The history of the Norman conquest of England, its causes and its results, Volume 1 (of 6) (part 6 of 7)

Appendix

NOTE A. p. 13. THE USE OF THE WORD “ENGLISH.”

My readers will doubtless have remarked—indeed I have, in the text, expressly called their attention to the fact—that, in speaking of the Teutonic inhabitants of Britain looked at as a whole, I always use the word “English,” never the words “Saxon” or “Anglo-Saxon,” which are more commonly in use. I do this advisedly, on more grounds than one. I hold it to be a sound rule to speak of a nation, as far as may be, by the name by which it called itself in the age of which we are speaking. This alone would be reason enough for using the word “English” and no other. But besides this, the common way of talking about “Saxons” and “Anglo-Saxons” leads to various confusions and misconceptions; it ought therefore to be avoided on that ground still more than on the other.

I am not aware of any instance in which a Teutonic inhabitant of Britain, living before the Norman Conquest, and speaking in his own tongue and in his own name of the whole nation formed by the union of the various Teutonic tribes in Britain, uses the word “Saxon.” “Engle,” “Angel-cyn,” are the words always used. The only exceptions, if we can call them exceptions, are certain charters in which the King of the English is called “King of the Anglo-Saxons.” Of these I shall presently speak (see below, p. 540, and Appendix B). But I am not aware that the word “Anglo-Saxon” is ever used in English writings except in the royal style, and even there it is excessively rare. It is quite certain that the word “Anglo-Saxon” was not used, any more than the word “Saxon,” as the ordinary name of the nation. An inhabitant of one of the real Saxon settlements might indeed call himself a Saxon as opposed to his Anglian or Jutish neighbours. But even in this case it is remarkable that we very seldom find the word “Saxon” used alone. It is almost always coupled with one of its geographical adjuncts, “West,” “East,” or “South.” Cuthred’s army at Burford (see pp. 38, 517) is not spoken of as the “Saxon” but as the “West-Saxon” host, even though its adversaries were Angles. But the word “Saxon” is never used, in the native tongue, to express either the whole nation or any part of it which was not strictly Saxon. On the other hand, the words “Engle” and “Angel-cyn” are constantly used to express, not only the whole nation, but particular parts of it which were not strictly Anglian. The Chronicles use the words in this sense from the very beginning. They expressly tell us that Hengest and Horsa were, in strictness, not Angles, but Jutes; yet their followers are called “Engle” (473), and the Teutonic settlers as a whole are called “Angel-cyn” (449). One single passage in the Chronicles (605), which has another look, I shall have presently to speak of as being most distinctly an exception which proves the rule. “Engle,” in short, in native speech, is the name of the whole nation, of which the “Seaxe” are a part.

On the other hand, for reasons which I have already stated (see p. 13), all the Teutonic settlers in Britain have always been known to their Celtic neighbours as “Saxons.” They were so in the fifth century; they are so still. In the Pictish Chronicle, for instance, Lothian is always “Saxonia.” On the continent too the word was sometimes used to describe the Teutonic settlers in Britain before they were fully consolidated into one kingdom. At the very beginning Prosper (see Appendix C) talks of Saxons, while Prokopios (see above, pp. 22, 31) talks of Ἄγγιλοι. As Gregory the Great calls the Jutish Æthelberht “Rex Anglorum” (Bæda, Hist. Eccl. i. 32), so Einhard speaks of certain Northumbrians, who therefore were strictly Angles, as Saxons. Ealhwine (Alcuin), who was certainly a Northumbrian, is called (Vita Karoli, 25) “Saxonici generis homo,” and one Ealdwulf, who seems also to have been a Northumbrian, appears (Annals, 808) as “de ipsa Britannia, natione Saxo.” But I suspect that this way of speaking was peculiar or nearly so to Einhard. A generation earlier, Paul Warnefrid has several passages which illustrate the uncertain way in which the Teutonic settlers in Britain were for a long time spoken of on the Continent. But though he uses the words “Angli” and “Saxones” as it might seem indiscriminately, there is no case in which it is clear that he applies the Saxon name to any but real Saxons, while he uses the Anglian name to take in those who were not real Angles. First of all, in ii. 6 the Saxons who joined in Alboin’s invasion of Italy are distinguished as “vetuli Saxones.” In iii. 25 he records the conversion of the English, how “Beatus Gregorius Augustinum, ... in Britanniam misit, eorumque prædicatione ad Christum Anglos convertit.” In v. 30 we read of the “ecclesiæ Anglorum;” but in c. 32 the banished prince Bertarid “ad Britanniam insulam Saxonumque regem properare disponit;” and in c. 33, “navem ascendit ut ad Britanniam insulam ad regnum Saxonum transmearet.” Here a West-Saxon King is doubtless meant. In vi. 28 we find two persons, seemingly Ine and his wife Æthelburh, described in the text as “duo reges Saxonum,” and in the heading as “duo Anglorum reges.” Lastly, in vi. 37 the fashion of pilgrimage is attributed to “multi Anglorum gentis nobiles et ignobiles;” and in the same chapter Saxones is used in its common meaning of Old-Saxons. Altogether, “Anglus” is the received and usual name even from the earliest times; it became more usual as time went on, and after the nation was consolidated, when the “Rex Anglorum” was known on the continent as a great potentate, any other way of speaking altogether died out, and foreign nations always spoke of us as we spoke of ourselves. The opposition between “Saxon” and “Norman,” so commonly made by modern writers when speaking of the days of the Conquest, is never found in any contemporary writer of any nation. The rule on this head during the period of the Conquest is very plain. In the English Chronicles, in Domesday and other legal documents, and in the Bayeux Tapestry, the opposition is made between “French” and “English.” “The King’s men, French and English,” form an exhaustive division. In Latin writers, especially those on the Norman side, the opposition is made between “Normans” and “English.” “Normans” and “Saxons” are not opposed till long after. The earliest instance that I know of the usage is in Robert of Gloucester, who opposes “Normans” and “Saxons” exactly as Thierry does, in verses which Thierry has not inappropriately chosen for the epilogue of his work;

“Of þe Normannes beþ þẏs hey men, þat beþ of þys lond, And þe lowe men of Saxons, as ẏch understonde.” (Vol. i. p. 363, ed. 1810.)

It is possibly owing to the comparative laxity of the foreign use of the words that even the native use is not quite so strict in Latin writings as it is in those which are composed in the native tongue. Native writers, when following, or translating from, Welsh authorities, often follow the Welsh usage, and use the word “Saxones” in positions where, if they had been speaking in their own persons, they would certainly have used the word “Angli.” There is one instance, and, as far as I know, one instance only, of this Welsh usage having made its way into the English speech. In the entry in the Chronicles under the year 605, the word “Saxon” does occur for once in the wider sense. But the word is not used by the Chronicler in his own person, nor is it put into the mouth of any Angle or Saxon. It is found in a speech of Augustine to the Welsh Bishops; “Gif Wealas nellað sibbe wið us, hy sculon æt Seaxena handa forwurðan,” a prediction which was accomplished by the invasion of the Anglian Æthelfrith. Here is a story, probably preserved by Welsh tradition, in which a Roman speaking to Welshmen is made to adopt a Welsh form of speech. The contrast between this passage and the ordinary language of the Chronicles makes the ordinary usage still more marked. In Latin the usage is more common. Asser, as a Welshman, naturally speaks of “Saxones,” and his so speaking is a strong proof of the genuineness of his work. Florence of Worcester therefore, in that part of his Chronicle in which he copies Asser, keeps Asser’s language, and speaks of “Saxones,” whereas, when speaking in his own words or translating from the English Chronicles, he speaks of “Angli” from the beginning. No doubt the subjects of Ælfred, the books, poems, &c. to which the name “Saxon” is thus applied, were strictly Saxon; but no West-Saxon, speaking in his own tongue, would have called them so. Ælfred calls his own tongue “English,” and nothing else; but Asser naturally called it “Saxon.” So Bæda, as long as he draws from Welsh sources or repeats Welsh traditions, uses the words “Angli” and “Saxones” almost indiscriminately (Hist. Eccl. i. 14, 15, 22); but, as soon as he begins fairly to speak in his own person, he always uses “Angli” (i. 23 et seqq.). Exactly the same distinction will be found in the use of the words by Æthelweard and Henry of Huntingdon, who constantly use the word “Saxones” in what we may call the Welsh stage of their histories. But Henry uses “Anglus” also from the beginning, and, when he gets fairly clear of Welsh matters, he uses it exclusively. It is most curious to see him, as in the Prologue to the fifth Book, fall back on the Welsh way of speaking when he has to make a summary of what has gone before. And as the Welsh way of speaking affected these writers, we find writers who had occasion to speak of Pictish matters affected in the like way by Pictish usage. Thus Æddi or Eddius, the biographer of Wilfrith (c. 19, 20), speaking of the relations between Picts and Northumbrians, uses the Pictish mode of speech; he speaks of “Saxones,” and says that the Picts “subjectionem Saxonum despiciebant.”

Besides these instances of Celtic influence on English speech, it is not uncommon to find in the charters the word “Saxonice” used as a definition of language, where the vernacular definition would undoubtedly have been “on Englisc.” In West-Saxon charters the usage is in truth no more than we might have looked for. The words and things spoken of were Saxon in the strict sense. Bæda too not uncommonly (iii. 7 et al.) uses “Saxon” as a description of language; but it is usually, if not always, when he is speaking of persons or places which are strictly Saxon. He may therefore mean “Saxon” as opposed to “Anglian.” But the usage certainly now and then passes these bounds, and we find the word Saxon and its derivatives applied to objects which were not strictly Saxon. Thus in a charter of Ecgfrith of Mercia in 796 (Cod. Dipl. i. 207), we find the words “celebri vico qui Saxonice vocatur æt Baðum.” Though even here it is worth remarking that the place spoken of, though at that time under Mercian rule, was in a district which was originally Saxon and which became Saxon again. So in a deed of Archbishop Oswald as late as 990 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 253) we read how a certain grant “in ista cartula Saxonicis sermonibus apparet.” But the land spoken of is in Worcestershire, also a district originally Saxon. It is more remarkable when in a charter of Archbishop Wulfred in 825 (Cod. Dipl. i. 280), the Synod of Clovesho is said to be “de diversis Saxoniæ partibus congregatum.” As the document chiefly relates to Mercian affairs, it is clear that “Saxonia” here means England generally. The word is used in the same sense at an earlier time in a petition of Wilfrith to Pope Agatho (Eddius, c. 29), in which he describes himself as “episcopus Saxoniæ.” So again in the letter—whether genuine or not, matters little—of Eleutherius of Winchester in William of Malmesbury (i. 30), he is described as “pontificatus Saxoniæ gubernacula regens.” In this passage “Saxonia” might mean Wessex; but Hwætberht, Abbot of Wearmouth (Bæda, Hist. Abb. Wiremuth, c. 14. p. 329 Hussey), also calls himself “Abbas cœnobii beatissimi apostolorum principis in Saxonia.” It should of course be remembered that these are letters addressed to foreigners, and in which a foreign mode of speech is naturally adopted. Still, when I have these examples before me, and when I remember how late it was before the names “Anglia” and “Englaland” became thoroughly established in use, I am inclined to think that “Saxonia” may be the older name of the two. We have seen (see p. 79) that the name Englaland dates only from the last period of the Danish wars; the earliest use of it that I have come across is not earlier than the reign of Æthelred, being found in the treaty with Olaf and Justin in 991 (see p. 79, and below, Note DD). Here the word Englaland, Ænglaland, is twice found. From the latter days of Æthelred and the reign of Cnut the territorial name becomes more and more commonly used. (It is needless to say that the entry in the Canterbury Chronicle for 876 and the long insertion at 995 are not contemporary.) It would seem then that the name of England was first used in opposition, not to Wales or Scotland, but to the Scandinavian lands. As opposed to the lands of the Scot and the Briton the strict territorial name was rather Saxony than England. It was only natural that it should be so. The part of Britain occupied by the Teutonic invaders, the English land as distinguished from the English people, would receive its first territorial name from the Celts of the island, and that name would naturally be, as we have seen in the case of Lothian, “Saxonia.” In dealing with foreigners, even Englishmen might, in the days of Wilfrith or Hwætberht, use the only territorial name which their country had as yet acquired, and, in the days of Wulfred, the same word might be now and then used as a rhetorical flourish. I am therefore inclined to think that there is really more authority for calling England, as a whole, “Saxony,” than there is for calling Englishmen, as a whole, “Saxons.” The Latin name Anglia is most likely older than the English Englaland. But it is hard to say when it came into contemporary use. It seems to be unknown to Bæda, but it is familiar to Æthelweard. A rarer form, “Angul-Saxonia,” “Anglo-Saxonia,” is now and then found, as in a charter of Eadward the Elder in Cod. Dipl. v. 165, and in a doubtful charter of Æthelred (see below, p. 557). So in a Frankish ecclesiastical writer in Duchesne, Rer. Franc. Scriptt. i. 665, Queen Balthild is said to come “de ultramarinis partibus Angli-Saxoniæ.” Still, whatever may have been the case in earlier times, all these usages had died out long before the time of the Norman Conquest. After all England and all Britain had been brought into subjection to a Saxon dynasty, we hear no more about “Saxons” or “Saxony.” The latest instance that I can remember of “Saxonice” being used for “on Englisc” is in a passage of Florence of Worcester (1002, see p. 306), where he says that the Norman Emma was “Saxonice Ælfgiva vocata.” The expression stands almost by itself; but it should be remembered that it is of the West-Saxon speech that it is used. During the period of the Conquest, as the people are always “Angli” and their land “Anglia,” so it is always the English language (“lingua Anglica or Anglicana”), never the Saxon, which contemporary writers oppose to the French.

The fact that the word “Saxon” is thus occasionally used in Latin, in cases where we always find “English” used in the native tongue, is, I think, mainly to be attributed to the tendency, one which has more or less influence on almost all Latin writings then and since, to use expressions which sounded in any way grander or more archaic than those which were in common use. I suspect that the occasional use of “Saxon” instead of “English” was very much of a piece with the use, not uncommon in the charters, of “Albion” to express Britain. To talk of “Saxonia,” “Saxonice,” &c. was doubtless one of the elegancies of the Kanzleistyl of those days. It is an archaism, just as when, in a charter of Eadwig (Cod. Dipl. ii. 324; cf. 391), we read of the “Gewissi,” a name which had passed out of use ages before. Once or twice we find “Teutonice” instead of either “Anglice” or “Saxonice.” The decrees of the Synod of Cealcyth in 787 (Labbe and Cossart, vi. 1873) were published “tam Latine quam Teutonice, quo omnes intelligere possent.” So in the Encomium Emmæ (ii. 18) we once find the word used where either English or Danish is intended, and the expression is an unusual and affected one as applied to either. In a most remarkable story told by Giraldus (Itin. Kamb. i. 6. p. 64 Dimock), a Welshman is said to speak to Henry the Second “quasi Teutonice,” and is presently answered “Anglice.” But Giraldus elsewhere (i. 8. p. 77), in his curious philological discussion, distinguishes “Anglice” and “Teutonice,” though his “Teutonice” does not seem to be High-Dutch. There can be no doubt that this use of “Teutonice” was simply an instance of “the grand style.” It is less clearly so when Fordun (ii. 9) says that in Scotland “duabus utuntur linguis, Scotica videlicet et Theuthonica.” For he writes at a time when men were just beginning to be unwilling to give the English name to the Teutonic speech of Scotland. But in earlier times we may be sure that, when men said either “Teutonice” or “Saxonice” instead of “Anglice,” the unusual word was chosen mainly as being finer. Still, in the great mass of instances, the use of the word “Saxon,” affected and archaistic as it is, is still accurate. It is rarely used out of the strictly Saxon districts, while “Anglus” and its derivatives are freely used out of the strictly Anglian districts. The title of “Rex Saxonum,” so common in the age of Ælfred, was, as I have elsewhere said (see p. 54), the most accurate which he could assume. Still it appears only as a Latin title; in his vernacular will and his vernacular laws he is only “King of the West-Saxons.” (See p. 52, and Cod. Dipl. ii. 114.) It might be thought to have an English equivalent in the Abingdon Chronicle under 867, where we read, “Her feng Æþered Æþelbryhtes broþor to Seaxna rice,” but as all the other copies have “West-Seaxna rice,” it is most likely a slip of the pen.

The name “Anglo-Saxon,” though rare, is a genuine and ancient description of the nation. There are some, though rare, vernacular examples of its use (see below, pp. 549, 556), to which I shall have to refer again. It is also used rather more commonly in Latin, as by Asser (M. H. B. 483 A), by Florence of Worcester (A. 1066), by Simeon of Durham (X Scriptt. 137). In the Latin charters, especially those of Eadwig, it is not uncommon (see the list in pp. 554–558). So in a charter of Eadward the Elder which has been quoted already (Cod. Dipl. v. 168, 169), as he calls the land “Angul-Saxonia,” so he twice calls himself “Angul-Saxonum rex.” The word is not uncommon in foreign writers; it occurs for instance in the singular passage of Lambert of Herzfeld (1066) in which Harold is called “Rex Angli-Saxonum.” To go back to earlier writers, it is found in Paul Warnefrid (iv. 23), where, describing the manners of the Lombards, he says, “Vestimenta eis erant laxa et maxime lintea, qualia Angli-Saxones habere solent.” In c. 37, “Cunibertus rex Hermilindam e Saxonum Anglorum genere duxit uxorem.” Here the name Eormenhild, cognate with the royal Kentish names Eormenred, Eormenburh, Eormengyth, and Eormengild, seems to show almost for certain from what part of England the Lombard King brought his wife. But presently in vi. 15 the West-Saxon Ceadwalla appears as “Cedoaldus rex Anglorum-Saxonum,” though in the heading he is “Theodebaldus rex Anglorum.” (These passages show how fast the Anglian name was spreading over the Saxon and Jutish districts.) The compound name is used also by Widukind in a very amusing passage (i. 8; cf. p. 567), where, having mentioned how certain Saxons settled in Britain, he adds, “Et quia illa insula in angulo quodam maris sita est, Anglisaxones usque hodie vocitantur.” So Prudentius of Troyes (Pertz, i. 449) calls Æthelwulf “Edilvulfus rex Anglorum-Saxonum.” Elsewhere (i. 451) he gives him his usual title of “Rex Occidentalium Saxonum.” In another passage (i. 452) he records how in 860 a Danish fleet sailed “ad Anglo-Saxones.” And in a third, under the year 844 (Pertz, i. 441), “Nortmanni Britanniam insulam ea quam maxime parte quam Angli-Saxones incolunt impetentes.” So in the Annals of Quedlinburg (Pertz, iii. 32), “Angli-Saxones in Britannia fidem percipiunt;” in those of Weissemburg, 1066 (Pertz, iii. 71), “Comes Willihelmus qui et Basthart (see vol. ii. p. 582) Anglos-Saxones et regem illorum occidit regnumque obtinuit.” In the Annales Altahenses, 1066 (Pertz, xx. 817), we hear of “Angli-Saxonici.” In the Life of Saint Boniface (Pertz, ii. 338) London or “Lundenwich” is so called “Anglorum Saxonumque vocabulo;” and in Aimon of Fleury (Pertz, ix. 375) Lewis the son of Charles the Simple flies “ad Anglo-Saxones.” All these passages remind us of the “Prisci Latini,” and all are in the plural. Orderic too once or twice uses expressions to the same effect. Thus he (666 A) makes certain Normans say “Saxones Anglos prostravimus.” Elsewhere he makes Wimund (525 B) speak of the original English conquerors as “Angli-Saxones.” Again, speaking in his own person (722 B), he recounts the Norman exploits, and adds, “Hoc Itali et Guinili Saxonesque Angli usque ad internecionem experti sunt.” And again in 887 B, where he is talking of Welsh matters and the prophecies of Merlin, he speaks of “Saxones Anglos, qui tunc pagani Christicolas Britones oppugnabant.” But these unusual phrases are clearly mere flourishes, just as when he calls the Byzantine Empire “Ionia” and its inhabitants “Danai” and “Pelasgi.” The passage reminds one of the comment of William of Poitiers (137), where, after describing the valour of the English at Senlac, he adds, “Gens equidem illa natura semper in ferrum prompta fuit, descendens ab antiqua Saxonum origine ferocissimorum hominum.” But he never calls the English of his own time “Saxons.”

“Anglo-Saxon” then, unlike “Saxon,” is a description which is fully justified by ancient authority. But it is quite clear that it is a description which never passed into common use. It is found mainly in charters and as a peculiarity of one or two writers, who doubtless thought that it had a grander or more learned sound than the usual name. The name by which our forefathers really knew themselves was “English” and none other. “Angli,” “Engle,” “Angel-cyn,” “Englisc,” are the true names by which the Teutons of Britain knew themselves and their language. The people are the English, their tongue is the English tongue, their King is the King of the English. The instances of any other use are to be found in a foreign language, and are easily accounted for by exceptional causes. And even these exceptional usages had quite died away before the stage of our history with which we are immediately concerned. The people whom William overcame at Senlac, and over whom he was crowned King at Westminster, knew themselves and were known to their conquerors by the name of ENGLISH and by the name of ENGLISH alone.

But it is sometimes argued that, though our forefathers confessedly called themselves English, yet we ought, in speaking of them, to call them something else; that, though Ælfred called his own tongue English, we ought to correct him and call it Saxon. Now the presumption is surely in favour of calling any people by the name by which they called themselves, especially when that name had gone on in uninterrupted use to our own days. Our national nomenclature has never changed for a thousand years. In the days of Ælfred, as now, the Englishman speaking in his own tongue called himself an Englishman. In the days of Ælfred, as now, his Celtic neighbour called him a Saxon. As we do not now speak of ourselves by the name by which Welshmen and Highlanders speak of us, some very strong reason indeed ought to be brought to show that we ought to speak of our forefathers, not as they spoke of themselves, but as Welshmen and Highlanders spoke of them. But the reason commonly given springs out of mere misconception and leads to further misconceptions. From some inscrutable cause, people fancy that the word English cannot be rightly applied to the nation, its language, or its institutions, till after the Norman element has been absorbed into it; that is, they fancy that nothing can be called English till it has become somewhat less English than it was at an earlier time. The tongue which Ælfred, in the days of its purity, called English, we must not venture to call English till the days when it had received a considerable infusion of French. This notion springs from an utterly wrong conception of the history of our nation. The refusal to call ourselves and our forefathers a thousand years back by the same name springs from a failure to take in the fact that our nation which exists now is the same nation as that which migrated from Germany to Britain in the fifth century. In the words of Sir Francis Palgrave, “I must needs here pause, and substitute henceforward the true and antient word English for the unhistorical and conventional term Anglo-Saxon, an expression conveying a most false idea in our civil history. It disguises the continuity of affairs, and substitutes the appearance of a new formation in the place of a progressive evolution.” (Normandy and England, iii. 596.) People talk of the “English” as a new nation which arose, in the thirteenth century perhaps, as a mixed race of which the “Saxons” or “Anglo-Saxons” were only one element among several. Now in a certain sense, we undoubtedly are a mixed race, but not in the sense in which popular language implies. We are a mixed race in the sense of being a people whose predominant blood and speech has incorporated and assimilated with itself more than one foreign infusion. But we are not what our High-Dutch kinsmen call a Mischvolk, a mere colluvies gentium, a mere jumble of races in which no one element is predominant. People run over the succession of the various occupants of Britain—Romans, Britons, Saxons, Danes, Normans—sometimes as if they were races each of which ate up the one before it, sometimes as if they were, each in the same sense, component elements of the modern English nation. The correct statement of the case is much clearer and simpler. A Low-Dutch people, which took as its national name the name of one of its tribes, namely the Angles, settled in Britain in the fifth and sixth centuries. It has occupied the greater part of Britain ever since. It has ever since kept its unbroken national being, its national language, its national name. But it has at different times assimilated several foreign elements. The conquered Welsh were, as far as might be, slaughtered or driven out; but a small Welsh infusion into our language, and therefore no doubt a small Welsh infusion into our blood, is owing to the fact that the women were largely spared. A small Welsh element was thus assimilated. The Danish element, far greater in extent than the Welsh, hardly needed assimilation; the ethnical difference between the Englishman and the Dane was hardly greater than the ethnical difference between one tribe of Englishmen and another. Lastly came the Norman, or rather French, element, which was also gradually assimilated, but not till it had poured a most important infusion, though still only an infusion, into our institutions and our language. Thus, besides the kindred Danes, we have assimilated two wholly foreign elements, British and French, what our forefathers called Bret-Welsh and Gal-Welsh. But these elements are not coequal with the original substance of the nation. In all these cases, the foreign element was simply incorporated and assimilated into the existing Low-Dutch stock. The small Welsh element, the large Danish and French elements, were absorbed in the predominant English mass. The Briton and the Norman gradually became Englishmen. The kindred Dane of course became an Englishman with far greater ease. All adopted the English name; all adopted, while to some extent they modified, the English tongue. If we confine the name “English” to the men, the speech, the laws, of the time after the last assimilation had become complete, if we talk of “Saxons” as only one coequal element among others, we completely misrepresent the true history of our nation and our language. Such a way of speaking cuts us off from our connexion with our forefathers; it wipes out the fact that we are the same people who came into this island fourteen hundred years back, and not another people. We have absorbed some very important elements from various quarters, but our true substance is still the same. We are like a Roman gens, some of whose members, by virtue of the law of adoption, were not Fabii or Cornelii by actual blood, but which none the less was the Fabian or Cornelian gens. If we allow ourselves to use, as people constantly do, the words “Saxon” or “Anglo-Saxon” as chronological terms, we altogether wipe out the fact of the unbroken life of our nation. People talk of “Saxons” and “Anglo-Saxons” as of races past and gone. Sometimes, especially in architectural disquisitions, they seem to fancy that all “the Saxons” lived at one time, forgetting that Harold is removed from Hengest by as many years as Charles the First is removed from Harold. A man, a word, a book, a building, earlier than 1066 is called “Saxon;” whether the same man, word, book, or building, after 1066 is “Norman,” I have never been able to find out. Waltheof, born before 1066, was of course a “Saxon;” what were the children whom he begot and the buildings which he built after 1066? This chronological use of the word “Saxon” implies one of two alternatives; either the “Saxons” were exterminated by the Normans, or else the “Saxons” turned into Normans. People talk of “the Saxon Period” and “the Norman Period,” as if they followed one another like the periods of geology, or like Hesiod’s races of men. The “Norman Period” is a phrase which may be admitted to express a time when Norman influences were politically predominant. We may speak of a Norman period, as we may speak of an Angevin period or an Hanoverian period. But, if we are to talk of a “Saxon period” at all, it is a period which began in 449 and which has not ended in 1877.

The most grotesque instance of this confused sort of nomenclature is to be found in the technical language of unscientific philologers. The gradual result of the Norman Conquest on the English language was twofold. The English language, like other languages, especially other Low-Dutch languages, was, at the time of the Conquest, already beginning to lose, in popular speech at least, the fulness and purity of its ancient inflexions. This process the Norman Conquest hastened and rendered more complete. It also brought in a great number of foreign words into the language, many of which supplanted native words. The result of these two processes is that the English of a thousand years back, like the Scandinavian or the High-Dutch of a thousand years back, is now unintelligible except to those who specially study it. But the English language has never either changed its name or lost its continuity. In the eyes of the scientific philologer, it is the same English tongue throughout all its modifications. But by unscientific philologers, the language, from some utterly mysterious cause, is not called English until the two processes of which I speak are accomplished. Before those processes begin, it is “Saxon” or “Anglo-Saxon;” while they are going on, it is “Semi-Saxon”—a name perhaps the most absurd to be found in the nomenclature of any human study. It is manifest that, with such a nomenclature as this, the true history of the English language and its relation to other Teutonic languages never can be understood.

One word as to the name “Anglo-Saxon.” I have shown that it is a real ancient name, used, though very rarely, in English documents, and somewhat more commonly in Latin ones. But it was always a mere formal description; it never became the familiar name of the nation. The meaning of the word also is commonly completely misconceived. In modern use “Anglo-” is a prefix which is used very freely, and which is certainly used in more than one meaning. We have heard of “Anglo-Saxons,” “Anglo-Normans,” “Anglo-Americans,” “Anglo-Indians,” “Anglo-Catholics.” I cannot presume to guess at the meaning of the prefix in the last formation; but I conceive “Anglo-Normans” to mean Normans settled in England, and “Anglo-Americans” to mean Englishmen settled in America. By “Anglo-Saxons,” I conceive, in the vulgar use of the word, is meant Saxons who settled in England (meaning of course in Britain), as opposed to the Old-Saxons who stayed in Germany. It is as when Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 708 C) inaccurately talks of an “adventus Saxonum in Angliam,” while the accurate Bæda (Hist. Eccl. i. 23) talks of the “adventus Anglorum in Brittaniam.” And it would seem that this really was the sense in which the compound name was used by some of the foreign writers. Indeed, as soon as the Teutonic part of Britain came to be commonly known by the name of “Anglia,” some such phrase as “Anglo-Saxones” would be, from a continental point of view, not an unnatural description of the Saxons of the island as distinguished from those of the mainland. It is plain that all remembrance of continental “Angli” must have passed away from the mind of Widukind when he made the grotesque derivation—one not all peculiar to himself—which was quoted in p. 541. But this is not the meaning of the word “Anglo-Saxon” as used by Asser, Florence, and King Æthelstan. “King of the Anglo-Saxons,” as a title of Æthelstan or Eadred, meant simply “King of the Angles and Saxons,” a way of describing him which was clearly more correct, though far less usual, than the common style of “Rex Anglorum.” In the ancient Coronation Service (see vol. iii. chap. xi. and Appendix E; Selden’s Titles of Honour, 116), in the same prayer we twice read “Anglorum vel (= et) Saxonum,” once “Anglo-Saxonum.” The latter form is clearly a mere abbreviation, perhaps a mere clerical error. That, under a purely Saxon dynasty, the title of “Rex Anglorum” became regular and universal, that “Rex Saxonum” died completely out, that “Rex Anglo-Saxonum” was always rare, is the most overwhelming proof that “English” was the real and only recognized name of the united nation. “Anglo-Saxon” then, in certain positions, is a perfectly correct description. But it is dangerous to use it, because it is so extremely liable to misconstruction. Again, its correct use is so very narrow, that the term becomes almost useless. It has no real meaning except in the plural. It is quite correct to call Æthelstan “King of the Anglo-Saxons,” but to call this or that subject of Æthelstan “an Anglo-Saxon” is simply nonsense. I have as yet only once lighted on the use of the word in the singular, namely in the Vita Alchuini, 11 (Jaffé, Monumenta Alcuiniana, p. 25), where a certain priest is described as “Engelsaxo.” See Mullinger, Schools of Charles the Great, 113. As a chronological term “Anglo-Saxon” is equally objectionable with “Saxon.” The “Anglo-Saxon period,” so far as there ever was one, is going on still.

I speak therefore of our forefathers, not as “Saxons” or even as “Anglo-Saxons,” but as they spoke of themselves, as Englishmen—“Angli,” “Engle,” “Angel-cyn.” I call their language, not “Saxon” or even “Anglo-Saxon,” but, as Ælfred called it, “English.” I thus keep to the custom of the time of which I speak, and I also avoid the misconception and confusion which must follow any other way of speaking. But the different shapes which names have taken in later times allow us to make an useful distinction between the two uses of the same word. In Latin it was necessary to use the single word “Anglus” to express both the whole nation and one particular part of it. But we can now speak of the whole nation as “English,” while we can speak of the tribe from which the nation borrowed its name as “Anglian.” When I wish pointedly to distinguish the men, the language, or the institutions of the time before 1066 from those of any time after 1066, I speak distinctively of “Old-English,” as our kinsmen speak of “Alt-Deutsch.”

I now leave the subject with a reference to the golden words of Sir Francis Palgrave, England and Normandy, iii. 630–2.

NOTE B. pp. 28, 133. THE BRETWALDADOM AND THE IMPERIAL TITLES.

It is almost impossible, after the connexion between them which Sir Francis Palgrave so earnestly strove to establish, to treat the question of the Bretwaldas apart from the question of the Imperial titles borne by the English Kings of the tenth and eleventh centuries. The unbroken connexion between the two is the very life and soul of his theory. And in discussing the matter we must never forget that it is to Sir Francis Palgrave, more than to any other scholar, that we owe the assertion of the great truth, without which all mediæval history is an insoluble puzzle, that the Roman Empire did not come to an end in the year 476, but that the Empire and Imperial ideas continued to be the very life of European politics for ages after. On this head I must refer my readers to Mr. Bryce’s brilliant Essay on the Holy Roman Empire, where the whole doctrine is drawn out with wonderful clearness and power. (See also Historical Essays, First Series, p. 126.) But Sir Francis Palgrave, as usual, made too much of his theory; his very learning and ingenuity carried him away. The Imperial doctrine itself, as put forth by him, was greatly exaggerated, and connecting, as he did, the Bretwaldadom with the later Imperial style, he was disposed to make as much as possible of the Bretwaldadom. Mr. Kemble, on the other hand, is equally disposed to make as little as possible of the Bretwaldadom, and I must say that he slurs over the question of the Imperial titles in a strange way. In both parts of the controversy, Sir Francis Palgrave may have given a wrong explanation; but he has at least given a very elaborate and ingenious explanation. Mr. Kemble leaves passages which must have some meaning without any explanation at all. For my own part, I cannot help adding that, years ago, when I first began these studies, I was altogether carried away by the fascination of Sir Francis Palgrave’s theories. I soon saw their exaggerated character, and how utterly unfounded a great part of them were. I was thus led to go too far the other way, and altogether to cast aside the notion of any Imperial sovereignty in our Kings. Later thought and study have at last brought me to an intermediate position, for which I trust that stronger grounds will be found than for either of the extremes.

The name Bretwalda comes from the well-known passage in the Chronicles under the year 827, where it is found only in the Winchester version, all the others having different spellings, Brytenwalda, Bretanenwealda, Brytenwealda, Brytenweald. The only other place that I know where any of these forms or anything like them occurs is in a charter of Æthelstan in 934, in which that King is described (Cod. Dipl. v. 218) as “Ongol-Saxna cyning and Brytænwalda eallæs ðyses iglandæs;” the Latin equivalent (p. 217) is “Angul-Saxonum necnon et totius Britanniæ rex, gratia Dei regni solio sublimatus.” Mr. Kemble (ii. 13, 20) argues that the reading Bretwalda is a false one, and that the meaning wielder, ruler, or Emperor of Britain, or of Britons, is altogether wrong. He takes the true reading to be Brytenwealda, which he derives from the adjective bryten, so as to mean wide ruler, quoting the word Bryten-cyning and other similar cognates as compound forms. As a piece of Teutonic scholarship Mr. Kemble is most likely right, but I doubt whether his correction of the etymology is of much strictly historical importance. When the entry in the Chronicles was made, the title must have been familiar, and it must have conveyed some meaning. And the forms Bretwalda and Bretanenwealda seem clearly to show that those who used those forms meant them, rightly or wrongly, to mean wielder of Britain. In the charter of Æthelstan again, though the Latin and the English do not exactly translate one another, I think it is plain that Britanniæ Rex was meant to be the equivalent to Brytænwalda. I have therefore no scruple in keeping to the more usual form and in attaching to it the commonly received meaning. Less correct as a matter of scholarship, I conceive it to be more correct as a matter of history.

But the passage in the Chronicles, as is well known, is founded on an equally well-known passage in Bæda (ii. 5). Bæda there reckons up seven Kings, Ælle of Sussex, Ceawlin of Wessex, Æthelberht of Kent, Rædwald of East-Anglia, Eadwine, Oswald, and Oswiu of Northumberland, as having a supremacy, if not over all Britain, yet at least beyond their own immediate kingdoms. This supremacy he first calls Imperium and then Ducatus. The latter somewhat lowly form may perhaps be a warning against attaching any exaggerated importance to the other. The Chroniclers translate the “Imperium hujusmodi” of Bæda by the words “þus micel rice.” They record Ecgberht’s conquest of Mercia, and say that “he wæs se eahteþa cyning se þe Bretwalda wæs.” They then give Bæda’s list of seven, with Ecgberht for the eighth. It is of course an obvious difficulty that several Kings, especially of Mercia, who seem to have been at least as powerful as any of those on the list, such as Penda and Offa, and Æthelbald, whom Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 728 D) speaks of as “rex regum,” are not found on the list. The writer of the entry, a subject of Ecgberht or one of his successors, no doubt simply copied Bæda’s list and added the name of Ecgberht, unwilling perhaps to record the glories of princes of the rival kingdom. Now this objection quite upsets the old notion with which Mr. Kemble makes himself so merry, of a regular Federal monarchy under an elective Emperor or Bretwalda; nor do I attempt to be wise above what is written or to define anything with precision as to the nature of a supremacy of which we have such slight records. Still the passages both in Bæda and the Chronicles must have a meaning. They show that those seven Kings did exercise a supremacy of some kind beyond the limits of their own kingdoms, which supremacy Ecgberht was held to have continued or to have revived. This supremacy is equally a fact whether those seven princes bore any special title or not. That the Bretwaldadom of Æthelberht carried with it some real dominion beyond the limits of Kent is shown by the ease with which Augustine went and held a synod in a distant part of England and a part still heathen. (See Bæda, ii. 2.) This could hardly be except by virtue of a safe conduct from the common over-lord. Indeed Bæda’s words are explicit—“adjutorio usus Ædilbercti regis.” The supremacy of Ecgberht needs no comment, and Mr. Kemble himself (ii. 19) calls attention to the fact that Ducatus, one of the words used by Bæda, is used by Ecgberht himself in three charters (Cod. Dipl. vi. 79, 81, 84), in which Ecgberht dates the year of his Ducatus ten years later than the beginning of his reign as King, exactly like the years of the Regnum and the Imperium of the later Emperors.

I believe then there was a real, though not an abiding or a very well defined, supremacy which was often, perhaps generally, held by some one of the Teutonic princes of Britain over as many of his neighbours, Celtic and Teutonic alike, as he could extend it over. I believe that this fact was remembered in the days of Ecgberht and of Æthelstan, and that Æthelstan probably looked on himself as the successor of Ceawlin in his wider no less than in his narrower dominion. What I cannot bring myself to believe is that Ceawlin looked on himself as the successor of Maximus and Carausius. Sir Francis Palgrave (i. 398) really seems to have believed that Ælle the South-Saxon, the first recorded Bretwalda, was called to the post of Emperor of Britain by the choice of the Welsh princes. Now it is not easy to see in what Ælle’s Bretwaldadom consisted. It is possible that the Jutes of Kent, and the settlers who had already begun to make the east coast of Britain a Teutonic land, may have invested him with some sort of general leadership for the better carrying on of the Conquest. It is possible that he may have brought under tribute some Welsh tribes which he did not root out, and that he may so far have presented a dim foreshadowing of the glories of Æthelstan and Eadgar. But the days of the Commendation had not yet come. It is utterly incredible that Ælle held any authority over any Welsh tribe, save such as he won and held at the point of the sword. It is utterly incredible that any Welsh congress ever assembled to make him Cæsar, Augustus, Tyrant, Bretwalda, or anything else. Cnut and William indeed were chosen Kings of the English by electors, many of whom must have shared as unwillingly in their work as any Welsh prince could have shared in the work of investing Ælle with an Imperial crown. But the times were utterly different; Cnut and William were not mere destroyers; they took possession of an established kingdom, and it was not their policy to destroy or to change one whit more than was absolutely necessary for their own purposes. But Ælle, who did to Anderida as Joshua did to Jericho and to Ai, was little likely indeed to receive an Imperial diadem at the hands of the surviving Gibeonites. The dream of a transmission of Imperial authority from the vanquished Briton to his Teutonic conqueror seems to me the vainest of all the dreams which ingenious men have indulged in.

What then was the Bretwaldadom? As we may fairly assert that the passages which I have already quoted imply a real supremacy of some kind, so, on the other hand, we may be equally sure that whatever they imply was something of purely English growth, something in no way connected with, or derived from, any older Welsh or Roman dominion. Nothing is proved by the fact that Æthelberht imitated the coinage of Carausius and put a wolf and twins on his money. Nothing was more common than for the Teutonic states everywhere, and for the Saracen states too, to imitate the coinage which supplied them with their most obvious models. But on a coin of Carausius the wolf and twins had a most speaking meaning; on a coin of Æthelberht they had no meaning at all. It may be that Eadwine assumed some ensigns of dignity in imitation of Roman pomp; the tufa may have the special meaning attached to it, or it may not; Eadwine, with the Roman Paulinus at his elbow, might well indulge in a certain Imperial show, without any need of traditions handed on from Maximus and Carausius. These are, I believe, the only attempts at evidence to prove that the Bretwaldadom had a Roman origin; and they prove about as much as King Ælfred’s notion (see his Laws, Thorpe, i. 58) that the immemorial Teutonic (or rather Aryan, see Il. ix. 629) practice of the wergild was introduced by Christian Bishops in imitation of the mild-heartedness of Christ. The title of Bretwalda, or Brytenwealda, as borne by Æthelstan, was most likely equivalent to Imperator or Basileus; but if it was used by Ælle or Ceawlin, I cannot think that it had any such meaning in their day.

It does not however seem that the supremacy of the early Bretwaldas necessarily reached over the whole of Britain or even over the whole of the Teutonic kingdoms in Britain. A marked predominance in the island, a distinct superiority over other states than his own, seems to have been enough to win for a prince a place on the list as given by Bæda and the Chronicler, though there might be other states over which his dominion did not reach. The supremacy of Ælle, and even that of Ceawlin, must have been very far from reaching over all Britain. The supremacy of Æthelberht is expressly limited by Bæda (ii. 5) to the English states south of the Humber; “Tertius in regibus gentis Anglorum cunctis australibus eorum provinciis quæ Humbræ fluvio et contiguis ei terminis sequestrantur a borealibus, imperavit.” This excludes all the Celts and also the Northumbrians. And it is worth noting that at least this same extent of dominion is elsewhere (v. 23) attributed by Bæda to Æthelbald of Mercia, whose name does not appear on his list; “Hæ omnes provinciæ [all England east of Severn and Hereford west of it] cæteræque australes ad confinium usque Hymbræ fluminis, cum suis quæque regibus, Merciorum regi Ædilbaldo subjectæ sunt.” On the other hand, the dominion of Eadwine is distinctly said not to have taken in Kent, and it seems implied that it did not take in the Picts and Scots; “Aeduini ... majore potentia cunctis qui Brittaniam incolunt, Anglorum pariter et Brettonum populis præfuit, præter Cantuariis tantum.” Sir Francis Palgrave indeed (ii. cccix.) attributes to Eadwine a dominion over the Picts and Scots. The words of Bæda however seem to me to exclude it; I understand him as attributing to Eadwine a dominion over the Britons only, that is the Welsh (probably of Strathclyde), as distinguished from the Picts and Scots. And the words which follow might seem to imply that Oswiu was the first to extend the power of Northumberland beyond the Forth. After describing the dominion of Eadwine he adds, “Sextus Oswald et ipse Nordanhymbrorum rex Christianissimus, iisdem finibus regnum tenuit; septimus Osuiu frater ejus, æqualibus pene terminis regnum nonnullo tempore coercens, Pictorum quoque atque Scottorum gentes, quæ septemtrionales Brittaniæ fines tenent, maxima ex parte perdomuit ac tributarias fecit.” So afterwards (iii. 24), “Osuiu ... qui gentem Pictorum maxima ex parte regno Anglorum subjecit.” Yet elsewhere (iii. 6) he attributes to Oswald also a dominion over Picts and Scots; “Denique omnes nationes et provincias Brittaniæ, quæ in quatuor linguas, id est Brettonum, Pictorum, Scottorum, et Anglorum, divisæ sunt, in ditione accepit.” It should be remembered that there was a family connexion between the Pictish royal family and that of Bernicia, and the words just quoted might imply a voluntary acceptance of Oswald on the part of the northern tribes. The peculiarity of Ecgberht’s position was that he had received a formal submission from all the English princes in Britain, and that he was able to do what no other Bretwalda had done, to hand on his power to his children. This dominion Eadward and Æthelstan won back and strengthened after the Danish invasion, and extended it over Scotland and Strathclyde. Now begins the use of the Imperial style, and I accordingly go on to give some examples of the various titles assumed by our Kings from Æthelstan to Cnut. One such instance, that in which Æthelstan uses the title of “Brytenwealda,” I have already quoted (see above, p. 367). Among the others I select such as either illustrate the use of the Latin Imperial titles, or which distinctly claim a dominion beyond the English kingdom, or which are remarkable on some other ground. I shall abstain from quoting those which present nothing beyond the mere use of the word Basileus, which is almost as common as Rex. Those which are found in charters marked by Mr. Kemble with an asterisk I mark with an asterisk also.

1. Ego Æðelstanus rex Anglorum per omnipatrantis dexteram totius Britaniæ regni solio sublimatus. Cod. Dipl. ii. 159; cf. v. 193.

*2. Quinto anno ex quo nobilissime gloriosus Rex Anglo-saxones regaliter gubernabat, tertioque postquam authentice Northanhumbrorum Cumbrorumque blanda mirifici conditoris benevolentia patrocinando sceptrinæ gubernaculum perceperat virgæ, ii. 160.

Ego Æþelstan rex et rector totius Britanniæ cæterarumque Deo concedente gubernator provinciarum. ii. 161; cf. v. 215.

*3. Ego Æðelstanus ipsius [altitonantis sc.] munificentia Basileus Anglorum, simul et Imperator regum et nationum infra fines Brittanniæ commorantium. ii. 164.

*4. Ego Æðelstanus divinæ dispensationis providentia tam super Britannicæ gentis quam super aliarum nationum huic subditarum imperium elevatus Rex. ii. 167.

5. Ego Æðelstanus florentis Brytaniæ monarchia præditus rex. ii. 173.

6. Ego Æðelstanus rex monarchus totius Bryttanniæ insulæ, flante Domino. ii. 204.

7. Ego Æþelstanus divina mihi adridente gratia rex Anglorum et curagulus totius Bryttanniæ. ii. 215.

8. Ego Æðelstanus Angulsaxonum rex non modica infulatus sublimatus dignitate. v. 187.

9. Ego Æðelstan, Christo conferente rex et primicerius totius Albionis, regni fastigium humili præsidens animo. v. 201, 204.

10. Ego Æðelstanus, omnicreantis disponente clementia Angligenarum omniumque gentium undique secus habitantium rex. v. 214.

11. Ego Æðelstanus ... favente superno numine Basileus industrius Anglorum cunctarumque gentium in circuitu persistentium. v. 229.

12. Æðelstanus, divina favente clementia, rex Anglorum et æque totius Britanniæ orbis curagulus. v. 231.

*13. Ego Eadmundus divina favente gratia Basyleos Anglorum cæterarumque provinciarum in circuitu persistentium primatum regalis regiminis obtinens. ii. 220.

14. Ego Eadmundus rex Anglorum necnon et Merciorum. ii. 265.

15. Eadmundi regis qui regimina regnorum Angulsaxna et Norðhymbra, Paganorum Brettonumque septem annorum intervallo regaliter gubernabat. ii. 268.

16. Hoc apparet proculdubio in rege Anglorum gloriosissimo beato Dei opere pretio Eadredo, quem Norðhymbra Paganorumque ceu cæterarum sceptro provinciarum rex regum Omnipotens sublimavit, quique præfatus Imperator semper Deo grates dignissimas largâ manu subministrat. ii. 292.

17. Ego Eadred rex divina gratia totius Albionis monarchus et primicerius. ii. 294.

18. Eadredus rex Anglorum, gloriosissimus rectorque, Norþanhymbra et Paganorum Imperator, Brittonumque propugnator, ii. 296.

19. En onomatos cyrion doxa. Al wísdóm ge for Gode ge for werolde is gestaðelad on ðæm hefonlícan goldhorde almæhtiges Godes per Jesum Christum, cooperante gratiâ Spiritûs Sancti. He hafað geweorðad mid cynedóme Angulseaxna Eádred cyning and cásere totius Britanniæ Deo gratias· for ðem weolegað and árað gehádade and lǽwede ða ðe mid rihte magon geærnian. &c., &c. ii. 303.

20. Ego Eadredus Basileos Anglorum hujusque insulæ barbarorum. ii. 305.

21. Ego Eadred gratia Dei Occidentalium Saxonum rex. v. 323.

22. Ego Eadwig industrius Anglorum rex cæterarumque gentium in circuitu persistentium gubernator et rector, primo anno imperii mei. ii. 308; cf. 329, 348.

23. Ego Eadwig divina dispositione gentis Angligenæ et diversarum nationum industrius rex. ii. 316.

24. Ego Eadwig egregius Angulsaxonum Basileus cæterarumque plebium hinc inde habitantium. ii. 318; cf. v. 344, 354.

25. Ego Eadwig totius Albionis insulæ illustrissimus archons. ii. 323; cf. iii. 24.

26. Eadwig numine cœlesti gentis Gewissorum, Orientaliumque necnon Occidentalium etiam Aquilonalium Saxonum archons. ii. 324; cf. v. 349.

27. Eadwi Rex, nutu Dei Angulsæxna et Norðanhumbrorum Imperator, Paganorum gubernator, Breotonumque propugnator, ii. 325.

*28. Anno secundo imperii Eadwiges totius Albionis insulæ imperantis. ii. 341.

29. Ego Eadwi rex omnium gentium huic insulæ cohærentium. v. 341.

30. Ego Eadwig non solum Angul-Saxonum Basileus, verum etiam totius Albionis insulæ gratia Dei sceptro fungens, v. 361.

31. Ego Eadwig imperiali Anglo-Saxonum diademate infulatus, v. 379.

32. Ego Eadwig rex Saxonum. v. 395.

33. Ego Eadgar Britanniæ Anglorum monarchus. ii. 374.

*34. Ego Eadgarus Anglorum Basileus, omniumque regum insularum oceani quæ Britanniam circumjacent, cunctarumque nationum quæ infra eum includuntur Imperator et dominus ... monarchiam totius Angliæ ... Anglorum imperio ... Ego Eadgar Basileus Anglorum et Imperator regum gentium. ii. 404–6.

35. Ic Eádgár cyning éac þurh his [Godes] gife ofer Engla þeóde nú úp árǽred, and he hæfð nú gewẏld tó minum anwealde Scottas and Cumbras and éac swylce Bryttas and eal ðǽt ðis igland him on innan hæfd. iii. 59.

36. Ego Eadgar divina allubescente gratia totius Albionis Imperator Augustus. iii. 64.

*37. Signum Eadgari et serenissimi Anglorum Imperatoris. iii. 109.

38. Ego Eadgar gratia Dei rex Merciorum cæterarumque circumquaque nationum. vi. 3.

39. Ego Eadgarus gentis Anglorum et barbarorum atque gentilium Rex ac prædux. vi. 69.

*40. Ego Æðelred Dei gratia Anglorum rex imperiosus. iii. 204.

*41. Ego Æðelredus famosus totius Brittannicæ insulæ Imperator. iii. 251.

42. Ego Æðelredus totius Albionis Dei providentia Imperator. iii. 290.

43. Ego Æþelred rex totius insulæ. Ego Æþelred rex et rector angul sexna. iii. 316, 317.

44. Ego Æðelred gentis gubernator Angligenæ totiusque insulæ corregulus Britannicæ et cæterarum insularum in circuitu adjacentium. iii. 323.

45. Ego Æðelredus ipsius [celsitonantis Dei] opitulante gratia Brittaniarum Rex. iii. 337.

*46. Ego Æðelredus Anglorum Induperator.

Ic Æðelred mid Godes gyfe Angelþeóde cyning and wealdend eác óðra iglanda ðe hér ábútan licgað. iii. 348.

*47. Ego gratia summi Tonantis Angligenûm, Orcadarum, necne in gyro jacentium monarchus Æðelredus. iii. 346.

*48. Ego Æðelredus totius Britanniæ Induperator. iii. 355.

49. Prædicta Augusta [Ælgifu-Emma]. iii. 358.

*50. Æðelred rex Anglo-Saxoniæ atque Norðhymbrensis gubernator monarchiæ, paganorumque propugnator, ac Bretonum cæterarumque provinciarum Imperator. vi. 166.

51. Æðelredus, gratia Dei sublimatus rex et monarchus totius Albionis. vi. 167.

52. Ego Cnut totius Britanniæ monarchus. vi. 179.

53. Ego Imperator Knuto, a Christo Rege regum regiminis Anglici in insula potitus. iv. 1.

54. Ego Knut telluris Britanniæ totius largiflua Dei gratia subpetente subthronizatus rex ac rector. iv. 7.

55. Ego Cnut Basileon Angelsaxonum disponente clementia creantis. iv. 18.

*56. Ic Cnut þurh Godes geve Ænglelandes kining and ealre ðáre eglande ðe ðǽrtó licgeð. iv. 23.

57. Ego Cnut rex totius Albionis cæterarumque gentium triviatim persistentium Basileus. iv. 35.

58. Ego Cnut, misericordia Dei Basileus, omnis Britaniæ regimen adeptus. iv. 45.

Of these forms, Nos. 10, 11, 13 are used over and over again with various slight changes. The forms “totius Britanniæ” or “Albionis rex” or “Basileus” occur constantly. They are distinctly more common than the simple “Anglorum rex.” “Anglorum Basileus” and forms to the like effect are also common. In fact a charter which does not in one way or the other assert a dominion beyond the simple royalty of the English nation is rather the exception. On the other hand we now and then, as in Nos. 21, 32, come upon forms which are startling from their very simplicity. No. 32, I suppose, belongs to the days when Eadwig was reduced to the kingdom of Wessex. Meanwhile Eadgar in his Mercian charter, No. 38, seems to claim, what doubtless was the case, the external dominion of the crown as belonging to himself rather than to his West-Saxon brother. Nos. 14, 15, 16, 18, 27, 50 are remarkable for the use of the word “Angli” and “Angulseaxe” in a sense excluding Northumberland. In No. 14 indeed “Angli” excludes the Mercians. It might be almost rendered “Saxons.” So completely had “Anglus” become the national name, even in the most purely Saxon parts of the country.

Some of these titles call for some special notice. Brytenwealda I have already spoken of. No. 19 is remarkable as the only one in which the title of Cæsar occurs in any shape. Casere is the regular English description of the continental Emperors, but I know no other instance of its application to an English King. (Perhaps the most striking instance of its use is where Alfred in his Boetius calls Odysseus “án cyning þæs nama Aulixes, se hæfde twa þioda under þam kasere ... and þæs kaseres nama wæs Agamemnon.”) This solitary English use of the word is a remarkable contrast to the fact that Kaiser altogether displaced König as the title of the German sovereign. In fact none of these titles ever came into common use, even in Latin, much less in English. Basileus, so common in charters, is very rare anywhere else. It occurs twice in Florence, once (975) where Eadgar is called “Anglici orbis Basileus,” and again (1016) where Eadric at Sherstone is made to talk of “dominus vester Eadmundus Basileus;” and once in the Ramsey History, c. 87, where the writer speaks of “Ædgari victoriosissimi Anglorum Basilei munificentia regalis.” Imperator, less rare than Cæsar, is less usual than Basileus. Prædux in No. 39 reminds one of the ducatus of Bæda and of Ecgberht’s charters (see above, p. 551). The oddest titles of all are Primicerius and Curagulus or Coregulus. Probably Curagulus means caretaker, but with the idea of Rex or Regulus floating in the mind of the scribe, which accounts for the spelling Coregulus. I am uncertain whether the words monarchus, monarchia, are to be reckoned as strictly Imperial. They are so used by Dante in his famous treatise “De Monarchia;” but it is clear that they have no such special meaning in the rhetoric of Dudo. They may have been used with equal vagueness in the kindred rhetoric of our charters. Thus for instance in a doubtful grant of Eadgar, dated 958, in possession of the Chapter of Wells, Eadgar is made to call himself “Rex Merciorum et Norðanhymbrorum atque Brettonum;” and afterwards, “divina favente gratia totius regni Merciorum monarchiam obtinens.”

That of these titles Casere, Basileus, and Imperator are meant to be Imperial in the strictest sense I have no doubt. If the title of Basileus stood alone, it might possibly be merely an instance of the prevalent fondness for Greek titles; the King might be called Basileus only in the same vague way in which his Ealdormen are called satrapæ and archontes. Yet even this would be unlikely; satrapa and archon were not established titles, assumed by a single potentate in a special sense, and which the diplomacy of the age confined to that potentate. But Basileus was simply Greek for Imperator. To be addressed as Imperator and Basileus by the ambassadors of Nikêphoros (Einhard, an. 812. “Laudes et dixerunt, Imperatorem eum et Basileum appellantes”) is reckoned among the most brilliant triumphs of Charles the Great. It was the formal acknowledgment of the claims of the Western Cæsar at the hands of his Eastern colleague or rival. So, later in the ninth century, the title of Basileus became the subject of a curious diplomatic controversy between the rival claimants of the dignity which it denoted, Basil of the New, and Lewis of the Old, Rome, and the Western disputant went very deep into the matter indeed. (See the letter of Lewis, “Imperator Augustus Romanorum,” to Basil, “æque Imperator Novæ Romæ,” in the Chronicle of Salerno, cap. 93 et seqq.; Muratori, t. ii. p. ii. p. 243. See Comparative Politics, 49, 353.) So Liudprand (Legatio, c. 2) complains that the Nikêphoros of his day refused the title to Otto; “Ipse enim vos non Imperatorem, id est βασιλέα sua lingua, sed ob indignationem ῥῆγα, id est Regem nostra vocabat.” So late as John Kinnamos, lib. v. 9 (pp. 228, 229, ed. Bonn), Frederick Barbarossa is only ῥὴξ Ἀλαμανῶν; the Eastern Emperor alone is βασιλεύς and αὐτοκράτωρ. That the titles Casere and Imperator are strictly Imperial hardly needs proof; the only question is whether we are to look for a strictly Imperial meaning in every instance of the use of the noun imperium and the verb imperare.

The use of Basileus seems more common in England than anywhere else; yet we find it in Abbo (i. 43) of Charles the Third;

“Urbs mandata fuit Karolo nobis Basileo, Imperio cujus regitur totus prope kosmus, Post Dominum, regem dominatoremque potentem.”

Imperator (see Ducange, in voc.) seems to have been used by several Kings of Castile, on precisely the same ground on which it was used in England, namely that they were Emperors, independent of Rome or Byzantium, but holding an Imperial power over princes within their own peninsula. So Robert de Monte, 1153 (Pertz, vi. 503), “Quia principatur regulis Arragonum et Galliciæ, Imperatorem Hispaniarum appellant.” The West-Frankish and French instances which Ducange quotes seem very doubtful. Charles the Bald, it must be remembered, really was Emperor in his last years. The oddest thing of all is the fact that the Saxon Kings Henry and Otto were saluted Imperator by their soldiers in the sense of the days of the Roman Republic. See Widukind, i. 39; iii. 49. Henry was “pater patriæ, rerum dominus et Imperator ab exercitu appellatus;” Otto “triumpho celebri rex factus gloriosus, ab exercitu pater patriæ Imperatorque appellatus est.” (See p. 143.) In this sense not only Cæsar, but Cicero also was Emperor. Perhaps the strangest description of all is that of Charles the Fat in Will. Malms. ii. 111, “Ego Karolus imperator, gratuito Dei dono rex Germanorum et patricius Romanorum, atque imperator Francorum.”

It is worth noticing that, though some of the most distinctly Imperial descriptions are found in charters whose genuineness is undoubted, yet the proportion of them which are found in doubtful or spurious charters is remarkably large. This fact in no way tells against the Imperial theory, but rather in its favour. A forger will naturally reproduce whatever he thinks most characteristic of the class of documents which he is imitating; but, in so doing, he is likely somewhat to overdo matters. A forger, thus attempting to copy the style of a charter of Eadgar or Æthelred, perhaps actually reproducing a genuine charter from memory, would naturally fill his composition with the most high-sounding of all the titles that he had ever seen in any genuine charter. The most purely Imperial style would thus find its way into forgeries in greater abundance than into genuine charters. Still the spurious documents are, in this way, evidence just as much as the genuine ones. The doubtful and spurious charters have therefore a certain value; their formulæ are part of the case, and I have not scrupled to add them to my list.

With regard to the assertion of the Imperial character of English royalty in later times, the doubtful title of “monarcha” or “monarches” still goes on. Thus in the charter of William Rufus to John of Tours, preserved in manuscript at Wells, the King is described as “Willelmus Willelmi regis filius, Dei dispositione monarches Britanniæ.” So, long after, in a letter from Henry the Sixth to James the Second of Scotland (correspondence of Thomas Bekynton, ii. 141), the English King is made to say, “verum et notorium est supremum jus et directum dominium regni Scotiæ ad regem Angliæ utpote totius Britanniæ monarcham de jure pertinere.” So in i. 119 of the same collection, where Henry the Sixth petitions Pope Eugenius the Fourth for the canonization of Ælfred, the West-Saxon King is described as “Sanctus et Deo devotissimus rex Aluredus, qui incliti regni Angliæ primus monarcha erat.” It was also held necessary at various times to deny any superiority of the continental Emperors over England. Thus it was declared in Edward the Second’s reign (1330), “Quod regnum Angliæ ab omni subjectione Imperiali sit liberrimum” (Selden, Titles of Honour, p. 21. b. i. c. 2). And in 1416 a renunciation of all supremacy was required from Sigismund, King of the Romans, before he was allowed to land in England (see Selden, u. s.; Lingard, iii. 505; Bryce, 207. But the account in Redman, p. 49, and Elmham, Liber. Metr. p. 133, is much less explicit). So late as Elizabeth’s reign, Sir Thomas Smith, in his Commonwealth of England (10), describing the union of the English kingdoms into one, goes on to explain that “neither anyone of those Kings, neither he who first had all, tooke any investiture at the hands of the Emperor of Rome, or of any other superiour or forraine Prince, but held of God to himselfe, and by his sword, his people, and crowne, acknowledging no Prince in earth his superiour, and so it is kept and holden at this day.” But beside this denial of all Imperial supremacy anywhere else, we also find the Imperial character of our sovereigns from Edward the First to Elizabeth from time to time directly asserted. Thus there are two cases in which the title of Emperor is given to Edward the First, in both cases with distinct reference to his supremacy over Scotland. The elder Robert Bruce (Palgrave, Documents, p. 29) claimed the kingdom from Edward the First as Emperor. “Sire Robert de Brus ... prie a nostre Seignur le Rey, come son sovereyn Seigneur e son Empeur.” So when the question is raised whether the controversy between the candidates for the Scottish crown should be judged by the Imperial law or by any other, one of the Prelates consulted (“episcopus Bibliensis,” perhaps a Bishop of Byblos in partibus) answers that the King of England must follow the law of his own realm because “he is Emperor here” (Rishanger, Riley, p. 255). “Dixit quod dominus rex secundum leges per quas judicat subjectos suos debet procedere in casu isto, quia hic censetur Imperator.” So Professor Stubbs (Const. Hist. ii. 491) quotes a statute of 1397 in which Richard the Second is described as “entier emperour de son roialme.” The title is also challenged for Henry the Fifth in a negociation at the siege of Rouen. In the riming Chronicle of John Page (Historical Collections of a Citizen of London, Camden Society, 1876) an English knight is made to say of his own King,

“And he ys kyng excellent, And unto non othyr obedyent, That levythe here in erthe be ryght, But only unto God almyght, With-yn hys owne Emperoure, And also kyng and conqueroure.”

In Henry the Eighth’s time the words “Empire” and “Imperial Crown” are constantly used in a way which cannot fail to be of set purpose. The Statute of Appeals of 1537, in renouncing all jurisdiction on the part of the Roman Pontiff, clothed the renunciation in words whose force can hardly be misunderstood, and which seem designed expressly to exclude the supremacy of the Roman Cæsar as well. The emphatic words run thus; “Whereas by divers and sundry old authentic histories and chronicles, it is manifestly declared and expressed that this realm of England is an Empire, and so hath been accepted in the world; governed by one supreme head and King, having the dignity and royal estate of the Imperial Crown of the same ... without restraint, or provocation to any foreign prince or potentate of the world.” So again, “to keep it from the annoyance as well of the See of Rome as from the authority of other foreign potentates attempting the diminution or violation thereof” (Selden, p. 18; Froude, Hist. Eng. i. 410–412). In an Irish Act of the same reign a further step is taken, and the King is distinctly spoken of as Emperor. As Selden (u. s.) puts it, “The Crown of England in other Parliaments of later times is titled the Imperial Crown; the Kings of England being also in the express words of an Irish Parliament titled Kings and Emperours of the Realm of England and of the Land of Ireland, and that before the title of Lord of Ireland was allied with King.” As for Elizabeth, at her coronation her herald formally proclaimed her as “most worthy Empress from the Orcade isles to the mountains Pyrenee.” (See Strickland’s Life of Elizabeth, p. 166, where a very strange interpretation is put on the words.) “The mountains Pyrenee” are a flourish which seems to have come from the days of Henry the Second, when Gilbert Foliot (Ralph of Diss, X Scriptt. 542) speaks of “dominationis suæ loca quæ ab boreali oceano Pirenæum usque porrecta sunt.” (So William of Newburgh, i. 94.) And the special mention of the “Orcade isles” might seem to come out of a charter of Æthelred (Cod. Dipl. iii. 346); “Angligenum, Orcadarum necne in gyro jacentium monarchus.” So in 1559, in the debate on restoring to the Crown the ecclesiastical jurisdiction surrendered under Mary, those who opposed Elizabeth’s spiritual claims still pointedly admitted her Imperial position in temporal matters. Archbishop Heath says, “She being our Sovereign Lord and Lady, our King and Queen, our Emperor and Empress, other Kings and Princes of duty ought to pay tribute unto her, she being free from them all” (Strype’s Annals, I. Append. No. 6). And in the first English translation of Camden’s Britannia (London, 1625), the title of the book is given as “The true and Royall history of the famous Empresse Elizabeth, Queen of England.”

Lastly, a pamphlet was published in 1706, when the Union with Scotland was under debate, headed, “The Queen an Empress, and her three kingdoms an Empire,” proposing a curious scheme for a British Empire, with subordinate Kings, Princes, and a Patriarch of London. It is of course an imitation of the constitution of the Empire, but the writer refers once or twice to the days of Eadgar for precedents.

The Imperial position of the English King seemed naturally (see p. 134) to carry with it the Papal position of the English Primate. Britain is another world, a world beyond the sea, distinct from the “orbis Romanus.” On this head I have collected a good many extracts in Comparative Politics, 351. So Eumenius Constantio, Pan. Vet. v. 11; “Quam Cæsar, ille auctor vestri nominis, eum Romanorum primus intrasset, alium se orbem terrarum scripsit reperisse, tantæ magnitudinis arbitratus, ut non circumfusa oceano sed complexa ipsum oceanum videretur.” (Cf. R. de Diceto, i. 438, ed. Stubbs.) As another world then, Britain is entitled to its own Cæsar, “mundi dominus” within his own four seas, and no less to its own Pontiff. As Florence (see above, p. 559) calls Eadgar “Anglici orbis Basileus,” and as in No. 12 of our extracts we heard of “totius Britanniæ orbis,” evidently in this sense, so Pope Urban (Eadmer, Vit. Ans. ii. c. 4) salutes Anselm with an analogous title, as “comparem vel ut alterius orbis apostolicum et patriarcham jure venerandum,” or as William of Malmesbury (Gest. Pont. ap. Scriptt. p. Bed. 127) puts it still more strongly, “Includamus hunc in orbe nostro, quasi alterius orbis papam.” The same idea, one degree less strongly expressed, is found in William of Jumièges’ (vi. 9) description of Lanfranc as “gentium transmarinarum summus pontifex.” This of course connects itself with the not uncommon description of England and the English King as “partes transmarinæ,” “rex transmarinus,” &c. See for instance Flodoard, A. 945. So, on the other side, in the Fulda Annals, 876 (Pertz, i. 389), “Karolus ... ablato regis nomine, se Imperatorem et Augustum omnium regem cis mare consistentium appellare præcepit.”

I have thus, I trust, brought together quite evidence enough to show what was the meaning and purpose of the Imperial style which was anciently adopted by our Kings, and distinct traces of which still survive in more than one familiar expression to this day. I do not doubt that other scholars, in their several lines of study, must often light on other passages bearing on the subject. I will wind up with one more, not the least remarkable of the number, that in which Abbot Baldric, the poetical panegyrist of the great men of his day, describes (Duchesne, Rer. Franc. Scriptt. iv. 257) the great William as one

“Qui dux Normannis, qui Cæsar præfuit Anglis.”

NOTE C. p. 30. THE EARLY RELATIONS BETWEEN ENGLAND AND THE CONTINENT.

The notices of Britain between the time of the English Conquest and the conversion of the English to Christianity are indeed few and far between. They are chiefly to be found in an episode of Prokopios (Bell. Goth. iv. 20), from which I have made two quotations in the text (pp. 22, 30). That the Brittia of Prokopios is Britain, and not, as Dr. Latham (Dict. Geog., art. Britannicæ Insulæ) fancies, Heligoland, Rugen, or some other island, I have no kind of doubt, and Mr. Kemble seems not to have entertained any. The difficulty is what his Brettania is. It strikes me that he had heard both of the continental and the insular Britannia, and that he fancied them to be two islands. His Brittia therefore is Britain and his Brettania is Britanny. (Cf. Zeuss, Die Deutschen, 362; “Βριττία, Britannia, und Βριταννία, Hibernia, wahrscheinlich durch Vermengung mit Britannia cismarina, Bretagne.”) John Kinnamos (ii. 12, p. 67 ed. Bonn), ranks Βρίττιοι καὶ Βρετανοί among the Crusaders. Allowing for the primary error of fancying Britanny to be an island, his geographical description is really not so monstrous as might be thought. His well-known story about the souls of the dead being ferried over to Brittia, and his confused and marvellous account of the Roman wall, show how strange and mysterious a land Britain had already become. But the two passages which I have quoted are distinct and intelligible. For an island inhabited by Angles, Frisians, and Britons we need not go far afield.

Prokopios tells us nothing of the process by which these three nations came into the island. There is, as far as I know, only one foreign notice of the English Conquest, which is however probably contemporary with one stage or another of it. This is in the Chronicon Imperiale of Prosper (see Dict. Biog. and Potthast’s Wegweiser in Prosper), written either in the fifth or in the sixth century. Here we have two entries (Duchesne, Rer. Franc. Scriptt. i. 198, 199; M. H. B. lxxxii.); the former saying that “hac tempestate [the time of Constantine the Tyrant, 407–411; cf. Zôsimos, vi. 5], præ valitudine Romanorum, vires funditus attenuatæ Britanniæ.” The other says that, some time before the death of Aëtius in 454, “Britanniæ usque ad hoc tempus variis cladibus eventibusque laceratæ, in ditionem Saxonum rediguntur.” I am however not sure that Prokopios has not a dark and confused allusion to the Armorican migration when he speaks of vast numbers of people coming from Britain to settle in the land of the Franks, on the strength of which it was that the Frankish Kings claimed the dominion of the island (τοσαύτη ἡ τῶνδε τῶν ἐθνῶν πολυανθρωπία φαίνεται οὖσα ὥστε ἀνὰ πᾶν ἔτος κατὰ πολλοὺς ἐνθένδε μετανιστάμενοι ξὺν γυναιξὶ καὶ παισὶν ἐς Φράγγους χωροῦσιν. οἱ δὲ αὐτοὺς ἐνοικίζουσιν ἐν γῆς τῆς σφετέρας τὴν ἐρημοτέραν δοκοῦσαν εἶναι, καὶ ἀπ’ αὐτοῦ τὴν νῆσον προσποιεῖσθαί φασιν). In an earlier passage Prokopios makes Belisarios (ii. 6) make the Goths the offer of Bretannia as an island much larger than Sicily. This is evidently in mockery, and it seems to imply that both Britain and Britanny were looked on as lands which had quite passed out of all practical reckoning on the part of the Empire.

Prokopios goes on, in the same chapter, to tell a long story, which is discussed by Mr. Kemble (Saxons in England, i. 23; cf. Zeuss, Die Deutschen, 362), of an English princess (παρθένου κόρης, γένους Βριττίας ... ἧσπερ ἀδελφὸς βασιλεὺς ἦν τότε Ἀγγίλων τοῦ ἔθνους), who was betrothed to Radiger, son of the King of the Varni, who, on his father’s death, instead of fulfilling his engagement, married his father’s widow, a sister of Theodberht, King of the Franks, who reigned from 534 to 537. The incestuous marriage, which was repeated in after days by Eadbald of Kent and Æthelbald of Wessex, is expressly said to have been contracted in obedience to the dying commands of Radiger’s father (cf. Soph. Trach. 1199–1207), by the advice of his chief men, and in conformity with the custom of the nation (καθάπερ ὁ πάτριος ἡμῖν ἐφίησι νόμος). The English princess however gathers a vast fleet and army, takes with her one of her brothers, not the King, as its commander, sails to the mouth of the Rhine, fights a battle, defeats Radiger, and compels him to send away his step-mother and marry her. The tale, which is told in great detail, is doubtless mythical in its details; but we may, with Mr. Kemble, accept it as pointing to the possibility of some intercourse, both peaceful and warlike, between the insular and the continental Teutons. But I cannot follow Mr. Kemble when he goes on (i. 25) to build up, on the expressions of a German ecclesiastical writer, a theory of insular Saxons aiding the Frank Theodoric in a war with the Thuringians. The author of the Translation of Saint Alexander (Pertz, ii. 674) is not speaking of any particular detachment of Saxons from Britain coming over to Germany to take a part in a particular war. By a strange perversion, this writer of the ninth century derives the continental Saxons, as a nation, from the English in Britain; “Saxonum gens, sicut tradit antiquitas, ab Anglis Britanniæ incolis egressa, per Oceanum navigans Germaniæ litoribus studio et necessitate quærendarum sedium appulsa est.” On this the editor remarks, “More solito traditio res gestas invertit, ita ut Saxones non e Saxonia Britanniam, sed ex Britannia Saxoniam appulisse dicantur.” The legend is no doubt a corruption of the legendary origin of the Saxons given by Widukind, i. 3–6. On the sense in which the English had a better right to the name of “Old-Saxons” than the Saxons on the continent, see Zeuss, Die Deutschen, 188.

It is worth remarking that Jordanes, though he devotes his second chapter to a description of Britain, simply gives an account patched up from Cæsar, Livy, Strabo, and Dio, and seems to describe the Britons as still the inhabitants of the island, without any reference to the settlement of the English. He makes another reference to Britain in his fifth chapter, but it is of a purely mythical kind.

I doubt whether there is any mention of England in Gregory of Tours, except in the two passages where he records the marriage of Æthelberht with the daughter of Chariberht. He does not use the words Saxon, Angle, or Britain, but he speaks of Kent as if the name were familiarly known. “Charibertus ... filiam habuit quæ postea in Cantiam, virum accipiens, est deducta” (iv. 26). So afterwards (ix. 26) he speaks of “filiam unicam quam in Cantia regis cujusdam filius matrimonio copulavit.”

Coming down later among continental writers, there is a well known passage in the Annals of Einhard (A. 786) in which he speaks of the English Conquest and of the Armorican migration as its consequence. Charles leads his army “in Brittanniam cismarinam,” and the Annalist goes on to explain; “Nam quum ab Anglis ac Saxonibus Brittannia insula fuisset invasa, magna pars incolarum ejus mare trajiciens in ultimis Galliæ finibus Venetorum et Coriosolitarum regiones occupavit.” There is another mention of the Armorican migration in Ermoldus Nigellus, iii. 11 (Pertz, ii. 490). Lantpreht (Lambert), whose command lies in Britanny, is thus described;

“Prævidet hic fines, quos olim gens inimica Trans mare lintre volans ceperat insidiis. Hic populus veniens supremo ex orbe Britanni, Quos modo Brittones Francica lingua vocat. Nam telluris egens, vento jactatus et imbri, Arva capit prorsus, atque tributa parat. Tempore nempe illo hoc rus quoque Gallus habebat, Quando idem populus fluctibus actus adest.”

On the whole it would seem that a certain amount of intercourse was kept up between the Franks in Gaul and the Southern English states, but that to the world in general Britain had become an unknown land about which any fables might be put forth.

NOTE D. p. 38. THE RELATIONS OF CHARLES THE GREAT WITH MERCIA AND NORTHUMBERLAND.

All the passages bearing on the relations of Charles the Great with Mercia, Northumberland, and Scotland are collected by Sir Francis Palgrave, English Commonwealth, i. 484 et seqq. The cream of the matter is contained in the account given by Einhard, A. 808; “Interea rex Nordanhumbrorum de Brittania insula, nomine Eardulf, regno et patria pulsus, ad Imperatorem dum adhuc Noviomagi moraretur venit, et patefacto adventûs sui negotio, Romam proficiscitur Romaque rediens, per legatos Romani pontificis et domni Imperatoris in regnum suum reducitur.” One of the legates was “Aldulfus diaconus de ipsa Brittania, natione Saxo,” spoken of in p. 534. That Eardwulf became the man of Charles there seems no doubt. Pope Leo says “vester semper fidelis exstitit.” The submission of the Scots is also mentioned by Einhard in the Life of Charles, c. 16; “Scotorum quoque reges sic habuit ad suam voluntatem per munificentiam inclinatos, ut eum numquam aliter nisi dominum, seque subditos et servos ejus, pronunciarent.” One would suppose that the Scots both of Ireland and of Britain are included. This mention of the Scots comes between the dealings of Charles with Alfonso of Gallicia and those with Haroun al Rashid. The relation both of the Scots and of the Northumbrians seems to have been a relation of commendation, a term on which I shall presently have much to say. The Scots doing homage to Charles on account of his gifts is not unlike the homage which we shall find done by certain French princes to Eadward the Confessor.

The relations between Charles and Offa, and their temporary difference, are also fully explained in the passages collected by Sir Francis Palgrave. A number of important letters will be found in Haddan and Stubbs, Councils and Ecclesiastical Documents, iii. 486 et seqq.; Jaffé, Monumenta Alcuiniana, 155, 167, 290, et al. There is a long mythical account of it in the Vita Offæ Secundi, pp. 13 et seqq. From thence Sir F. Palgrave quotes the story that Archbishop Janberht had promised to admit a Frankish army into England (Vita Offæ, 21). This is doubtless a good deal exaggerated, but notice should be taken of a very remarkable expression in the account given in Cod. Dipl. i. 281 of the relations between Offa’s successor Cenwulf and Archbishop Wulfred. It is plain that a deep impression had been made on the minds of Englishmen by the dealings of Charles in the matters of Eardwulf, Ealhwine, and Janberht; “Tunc in eodem concilio cum maxima districtione illi episcopo mandavit quod omnibus rebus quæ illius dominationis sunt dispoliatus debuisset fieri, omnique de patria ista esse profugus, et numquam nec verbis domni Papæ nec Cæsaris seu alterius alicujus gradu huc in patriam iterum recipisse.” Cenwulf clearly held that neither the Bishop of Rome nor the Emperor of Rome either had any jurisdiction in his realm of Mercia. The odd description of Offa as the Western and Charles as the Eastern potentate comes from a very suspicious source, namely the Life of Offa, p. 21; “Ego Karolus regum Christianorum orientalium potentissimus, vos, O Offane, regum occidentalium Christianorum potentissime, cupio lætificare,” &c. But the expression is singular enough to be worth quoting, if only on account of its very singularity, as it is the sort of thing which one can hardly fancy a forger inventing.

The influence of Charles in English affairs is strangely exaggerated in a passage of John of Wallingford (Gale, 529); “Rex Pipinus obiit regni ejus anno xii. Successitque Karolus filius ejus anno ab Incarnatione Domini DCCLXIX. Porro iste, sicut alia regna, sic et Angliam tempore hujus regis Offæ sibi subegit.”

The description of Offa in the Chronicle of Saint Wandrille (Pertz, ii. 291) as “Rex Anglorum sive Merciorum potentissimus” should be noticed.

NOTE E. p. 48. THE CHANGES IN NOMENCLATURE PRODUCED BY THE DANISH SETTLEMENT.

Mr. Kemble has gone (Saxons in England, i. 77–84) very minutely into the subject of the old divisions of England, and he has collected a great number of names, some of which can be easily identified, while others can only be guessed at and some are quite hopeless. But it is plain (see Kemble, i. 78, 79) that the West-Saxon names, Wilsætas, Sumorsætas, Dornsætas, are all older than Ælfred’s time, while the names of the present Mercian shires are later than Ælfred, and have supplanted earlier names, as appears from Mr. Kemble’s list of old Mercian shires (i. 81), some of which are quite unintelligible. One or two very obvious instances will be enough for my purpose. Thus the principality of the Hwiccas has long formed two whole shires, Worcester and Gloucester, and part of another, Warwick. The Magesætas seem to be divided between Herefordshire and Shropshire. Lincolnshire contains several principalities, Gainas, Lindisfaras, &c., but the traces of their original independence are not wholly lost even at the present day.

In Wessex most of the shires, Berkshire, Somerset, Dorset, Devonshire, are clearly not called from towns. Somerset and Dorset have cognate towns in Somerton and Dorchester; but they are merely cognate; the shire is not called after the town. But Hampshire, the County of Southampton, is simply Hamtunscír, from the town of Hampton. Hampshire was the first conquest; no doubt it had originally no local name like the other shires, but was simply Westseaxe or Westseaxnarice. When therefore it became a mere shire, it had to take a new name, and was named from the town. It may be asked why the shire which contained the capital was called from the town of Hampton and not from the royal city of Winchester. I can only suggest that some prerogative of the crown or some privilege of the citizens may have kept the capital more distant from the body of the shire than Hampton was.

Wiltshire is a case intermediate between Hampshire and Somerset. The Wilsætas are a tribe, and have their chief town Wilton. But the form Wiltunscír shows that the shire is immediately called from the town, whence the t in the modern form Wiltshire.

In Mercia, on the other hand, all the shires are now called from towns with one, perhaps two exceptions. Shropshire seems to be rather cognate with Shrewsbury than directly derived from it, and alongside of Scrobbesbyrigscír the Scrobsœtas continue to be heard of. Rutland, at once the smallest and the most modern of Mercian shires, is, oddly enough, the only one which has a distinct territorial name, not even cognate with that of any town. Rutland, as a distinct shire, is later than Domesday, where it appears, strangely enough, as a kind of appendage to Nottingham. How it gained the rank of a shire, while the adjoining and larger district of Holland did not, would be an interesting question for local antiquaries.

I have no doubt that the Mercian shires were mapped out afresh after the reconquest. That the redistribution was not made by the Danish invaders is plain from the fact that the boundary laid down between Guthrum and Ælfred is not attended to in marking out the divisions of the shires. We may conceive that the work was begun by Ælfred, or rather perhaps by Æthelred and Æthelflæd in that part of Mercia which was assigned to them by the peace with Guthrum, and that it was further carried on by Eadward the Elder after the recovery of Danish Mercia. In this we may see the groundwork of the legendary belief that Ælfred first divided England into shires and hundreds. With the shires within his own kingdom there was no need to meddle. Gneist (Englische Verwaltungsrecht, i. 56) enlarges on the share of Ælfred in this matter, but leaves out Eadward.

As for the nomenclature of towns and villages, it would seem that places were more commonly named directly after individuals in the course of the Danish Conquest than they had been by the earlier English occupiers. At least, among the names given during the English occupation, those which are formed from the proper name itself are less common than those which are formed from the patronymic ending in -ing. These last again raise the question, how far they are called after historical individuals and how far they are tribe-names called after some mythical patriarch. This last view will be found discussed at length by Kemble, Saxons in England, i. 59 and Appendix A. (See also Comparative Politics, 395.) Names like Toot_ing_, Bens_ing_ton, Gill_ing_ham, give the typical forms. On the other hand (see Kemble’s note, p. 60), it should be remembered that this familiar form ing, being so familiar, has often swallowed up others; thus Eth_an_dún, Æbb_an_dún, Hunt_an_dún, forms of quite different origin, have been corrupted into Ed_ing_ton, Ab_ing_don, Hunt_ing_don. Birm_ing_ham again has been thought to to be a corruption of Bromicham, but Mr. Kemble (i. 457) admits it as a genuine patronymic from the Beormingas. On the other hand, Glæst_inga_byrig, a genuine patronymic, has been corrupted into Glast_on_bury, and a wrong derivation given to the name.

An exact parallel to the Danish system of nomenclature is supplied by a later and less known, though very remarkable, settlement of the same kind, the Flemish occupation of Pembrokeshire in the twelfth century. The villages in the Teutonic part of that county bear names exactly analogous to those of Lincolnshire, only ending in the English ton instead of the Danish by. Such are Johnston, Williamston, Herbrandston, and a crowd of others.

NOTE F. p. 54. ÆTHELRED AND ÆTHELFLÆD OF MERCIA.

The Chronicles speak of Æthelred as Ealdorman of that part of Mercia which was kept by Ælfred, in 886, when London was entrusted to his keeping. See also the extract from Asser in Florence, where he is described as “Merciorum comes.” He married Ælfred’s daughter Æthelflæd, and he appears, even in the older state of things in Mercia, to have held a special position under Burhred, as in a charter in Cod. Dipl. ii. 99, confirmed by “Burhred rex Merciorum,” he describes himself as “Æðelred Deo adjuvante Merciorum dux,” a title which suggests those of “Francorum” and “Anglorum dux.” His reappointment by Ælfred must have been one of the King’s first acts after the peace with Guthrum, as we find a charter of his of the year 880 in Cod. Dipl. ii. 107, in which his style runs thus; “Ego Æðelred, gratia Domini largiflua concedente, dux et patricius gentis Merciorum cum licentia et impositione manûs Ælfredi regis, una cum testimonio et consensu seniorum ejusdem gentis episcoporum vel principum, pro redemptione animarum nostrarum et pro sospitate necnon et stabilitate regni Merciorum.” So in a charter of 883 (Cod. Dipl. ii. 110), which begins in Latin and goes on in English, and which even in the English part comes nearer than usual to the inflated style of the Latin documents; “Ic Æðelræd ealdorman inbyrdendre Godes gefe gewelegod and gewlenced mid sume dæle Mercna rices ... mid Ælfredes cyninges leafe and gewitnesse, and mid ealra Myrcna witena godcundra hada and woroldcundra.” The words “sume dæle” seem to mark Æthelred as holding a smaller territorial jurisdiction under Ælfred than he had held under Burhred, and the formula reminds one of Cnut’s style (Florence 1031); “Rex totius Angliæ et Denemarciæ et Norreganorum et partis Suanorum.” Mercia however is still a kingdom, like Ireland up to 1801, and Æthelred looks very like a Lord Lieutenant holding an Irish Parliament. Heming’s Worcester Cartulary (93) records another Mercian Gemót held by Æthelred; “Þa ðe gere gebeon Æðelred alderman alle Mercna weotan to somne to Gleaweceastre biscopas and aldermen and all his duguðe, and þæt dyde be Ælfredes cyninges gewitnesse and leafe.”

The position of Æthelred in Mercia is thus described by William of Malmesbury (ii. 125); “Ille [Elfredus] duo regna Merciorum et West-Saxonum conjunxerit, Merciorum nomine tenus, quippe commendatum duci Etheredo, tenens.” He had already said (ii. 121), “Londoniam, caput regni Merciorum [“caput regni, Merciorum”?] cuidam primario Etheredo in fidelitatem suam cum filia Ethelflædi concessit.” This use of “regnum” is like the use of the same word as applied to Bavaria under the Agilolfing Dukes. (See Waitz, iii. 302.)

It may perhaps be thought that Æthelred and the Lady felt themselves more nearly on an equality with their brother than they had done with their father; at least in a charter of 901 (Cod. Dipl. ii. 136) they seem to assume a more royal style; “Æðelred Æð[elflædque o]pitulante gratuita Dei gratia monarchiam Merciorum tenentes honorificeque gubernantes et defendentes.” And it may be a sign of a higher rank that Æthelred, who in Ælfred’s time (as in 886) is called only Ealdorman, in Eadward’s reign is twice called “Myrcna hlaford” in the Chronicles. One time is in 911, when his death is recorded (though he is called “Ealdorman” in other entries of the same event), and again in 919, when his daughter Ælfwyn is spoken of. Florence too in 912 calls him “dux et patricius, dominus et subregulus Merciorum;” and again in 919, “subregulus.” This last title he also gives him in Ælfred’s time in 894, but in 886 he is only “comes.” However this may be, in another charter of 904 (Cod. Dipl. ii. 148), granted to a subordinate Ealdorman Æthelfrith, the supremacy of Eadward is distinctly recognized; “prædictus dux rogavit Eaduuardum regem et Æðelredum quoque et Æðelflædam qui tunc principatum et potestatem gentis Merciorum sub prædicto rege tenuerunt, omnes etiam senatores Merciorum.”

As Æthelred is “Myrcna hlaford,” so Æthelflæd always appears in the Chronicles as “Myrcna hlæfdige,” and in Florence as “Merciorum domina.” Lady, I need hardly say, was in Wessex the highest female title, being reserved for the King’s wife. But in Mercia, as not being affected by the crime and punishment of Eadburh, the title of Queen seems to have gone on. In the Chronicles (888) we read of Ælfred’s sister, the widow of Burhred, as “Æðelswið cwén.” “Hlæfdige” therefore may perhaps have been meant as a title less distinctly royal; but in the Annales Cambriæ (917) we read, “Ælfled regina obiit.”

On the whole it seems plain that the position of Æthelred, and still more the position of his widow, was something above that of an ordinary Ealdorman. It should be remembered that he was the first Ealdorman of what had not long before been a mighty kingdom, and this quasi-royal position was a natural stage in the process of incorporation.

NOTE G. pp. 58, 119. THE COMMENDATION OF 924.

My narrative of the relations between England and Scotland, and my view of the dependence of the Scottish crown on the English Empire from 924 to 1328, are grounded on what I believe to be the sure witness of ancient authorities, read to a great extent under the guidance of Sir Francis Palgrave. All notion of any legal or permanent dependence such as I assert is cast aside by the late Mr. E. W. Robertson in his book entitled “Scotland under Early Kings.” That book is one which, though I hold many of its views to be erroneous, cannot be passed by without notice. It is a work of deep research and ability, and Mr. Robertson has the advantage of an acquaintance with Celtic literature to which I can make no pretensions. And I find with especial pleasure that, on several points where our theories do not clash, Mr. Robertson and myself have come independently to the same conclusions. Still on the points at issue I confess that, after reading Mr. Robertson’s arguments, I remain of the same opinion as I was before. He has thrown a certain amount of doubt on a few details which are not absolutely essential, but I think that he has utterly failed to upset those clear passages of the Chronicles on which the belief which I share with Sir Francis Palgrave mainly rests. Unluckily the scheme of my work does not allow me to grapple in detail with all Mr. Robertson’s arguments as to the earliest stages of the question. But I confess that I feel strongly inclined to enter minutely into them in some other shape. The subject is one excellently suited for a monograph. I have myself dealt with some parts of it somewhat more fully in my Historical Essays (First Series, p. 56). But I feel that the question is very far from being exhausted, and I trust that some other champion of the rights of Eadward and Æthelstan may be forthcoming.

The point which forms the immediate subject of this Note is the Commendation of Scotland to Eadward in 924, the most important point in the whole dispute. The choosing of Eadward as Father and Lord by the King of Scots and the whole people of the Scots is, both in the thirteenth and in the nineteenth century, the primary fact from which the English controversialist starts. William of Malmesbury, or even Florence of Worcester, may have blundered or exaggerated about Eadgar’s triumph at Chester or about any other point of detail, but, as long as the fact of the great Commendation is admitted, the case of the West-Saxon Emperors of Britain stands firm. That Commendation is recorded, as clearly as words can record it, not in a ballad or in a saga, not in the inflated rhetoric of a Latin charter, but in the honest English of the Winchester Chronicle. Than its words no words can be plainer; “And hine geces þa to fæder and to hlaforde Scotta cyning and eall Scotta þeod, and Rægnald and Eadulfes suna and ealle þa þe on Norþhymbrum, bugeaþ, ægþer ge Englisce, ge Denisce, ge Norþmen, ge oþre, and eac Stræcled Weala cyning, and ealle Stræcled Wealas.” I add the translation of Florence, who places the event in 921, not however as holding that it adds anything to the authority of the original record; “Eo tempore rex Scottorum cum tota gente sua, Reignoldus rex Danorum cum Anglis et Danis Northhymbriam incolentibus, rex etiam Streatcledwalorum cum suis, regem Eadwardum seniorem sibi in patrem et dominum elegerunt, firmumque cum eo fœdus pepigerunt.” Now if we are not to believe a fact on such evidence as this, there is nothing in those times which we can believe. It is strange that, in the obvious place for treating of the subject, in the text of his history at vol. i. p. 59, Mr. Robertson has not a word to say about the matter, but passes over the year 924 as if it were bare of events. But in an Appendix (vol. ii. p. 394) he discusses the matter at some length. To the truth of the famous record which I have quoted at pp. 58, 119 of my own text Mr. Robertson makes several objections.

First, he alleges that the Northumbrian Danes did not submit to Eadward. It is almost enough to answer that this passage is evidence that they did. If we are not to accept the distinct statements of the Chronicles, we are altogether at sea in the history of these times. Mr. Robertson’s reason for doubting the truth of the statement is that it is inconsistent with certain passages in other English writers—he might have added in the Chronicles themselves—which attribute the first annexation of Northumberland to Æthelstan in 926. But there is nothing irreconcileable in the two statements. I gave the explanation in the text of my first edition without having heard of Mr. Robertson’s objections; “Eadward’s immediate kingdom reached to the Humber, and his over-lordship extended over the whole island” (p. 58). But, from 926 onwards, the object of Æthelstan and his successors was to extend, not their over-lordship but their immediate sovereignty, over the whole of Northumberland. “Æthelstan cyning feng to Norðhymbra rice.” He became the immediate King of the country, whereas Eadward had been only Father and Lord to its Kings and people. After 926 Northumbrian Kings were often set up, but, except the lords of Bamburgh, of whom I shall speak in another Note, no Northumbrian prince was admitted by Æthelstan to vassalage. He asserted and maintained an immediate dominion over the country. This system was followed by his successors, except during the momentary recognition of Olaf and Rægnald by Eadmund in 943. There is therefore no contradiction. Eadward introduced one state of things in Northumberland and Æthelstan introduced another.

Secondly, Mr. Robertson objects that the Chronicles represent the Commendation to have been made at Bakewell in the Peakland, and that this is inconsistent “with the words which Simeon and Florence place in the mouth of Malcolm Ceanmore” in 1092 (it should be 1093), which “show that, in the opinion of that age, no Scottish King had ever met an Anglo-Saxon sovereign except upon their mutual [sic] frontiers.” Now, if there were any real inconsistency between the two statements, the direct statement of the Chronicle under the year 924 is surely much better authority for the events of the year 924 than an inference made by Mr. Robertson from a speech attributed to Malcolm in 1093. If Malcolm’s speech contradicts the facts of history, so much the worse for Malcolm and his speech. But there is really no inconsistency at all. The Chronicle in no way implies that the Commendation was made at Bakewell, and Malcolm in no way implies that it was not made at Bakewell. The Chronicler puts the Commendation of the King of Scots and the other princes in the same year as the building of the fortress of Bakewell; he may even imply that Eadward’s progress towards the North, of which the fortification of Bakewell was a part, had a share in bringing about the submission of all these Northern Kings. But he does not say that any of them came to Bakewell to make the Commendation. Malcolm says only that the Kings of Scots had been used to “do their duty” (rectitudinem facere) to the Kings of the English only on the confines of their dominions. The assertion may be true or false; but it is quite another thing from asserting that no King of Scots had ever met an English King anywhere but on the frontier. The first place of meeting need not have been the same as that which was usual 169 years later. There is in short nothing to show whether the Commendation took place at Bakewell or anywhere else.

Lastly, Mr. Robertson objects that Rægnald or Regenwald, who is described as one of the princes who submitted in 924, died in 921. I presume that, along with the Commendation of Rægnald in 924, Mr. Robertson sets aside his taking of York, which the Chronicles place in 923. This is asking us to give up a good deal out of deference to his Irish guides. But here again there is no necessary inconsistency. Mr. Robertson refers to the Annals of Ulster. Those Annals (Ant. Celt. Norm. p. 66) undoubtedly kill “Reginald O’Ivar,” not in 921 but in 920; but the name was a common one, and I see no evidence that the two Rægnalds need be the same. The Annals of Ulster themselves show that there was another person of the same name, “Reginald Mac Beolach,” living in the same part of the world in 917, and it would be worth inquiring whether any of these Rægnalds—the name is spelt in endless ways—can be the same as the Rægnald who figures at this time in the history of Gaul (see p. 163). I will not rely on the signatures of two charters of 930 by Regenwald or Reinwald (Cod. Dipl. ii. 168–171), because Mr. Kemble marks them as doubtful. Anyhow I see no proof of error in our Chronicles. There is no real contradiction between the English and Irish authorities; and if there be, I really do not see why the Englishman must needs go to the wall. But granting that Rægnald’s name was wrongly inserted, such a mistake would not touch the main fact of the Commendation. Such a fact as the Commendation of Scotland and Strathclyde is a thing about which there could be no mistake. It is either an historical truth or a barefaced lie. But in mentioning several minor princes who commended themselves at the same time, a wrong name might easily slip in without any evil intention. Several Northumbrian chiefs commended themselves; Rægnald was a famous Northumbrian name; a scribe might easily put Rægnald instead of some other name. The blunder would not be so bad as when Thietmar calls Ælfheah Dunstan (see Appendix OO), or as the utter confusion which the Scandinavian writers make of the names and order both of English Kings and of Norman Dukes.

I have examined this question in full, because it is the root of the whole matter. Other questions raised by Mr. Robertson I must pass by, or reserve for some other opportunity for discussion. I certainly think that the Commendation of 924 is in no way touched by Mr. Robertson’s objections, and I feel sure, from the acuteness which Mr. Robertson displays in other parts of his work, that he would never have satisfied himself with such futile arguments except under the influence of strong national partiality.

Another point, which I have briefly mentioned at pp. 131, 451, is worth notice. The fact that the people, as well as the King, choose Eadward as their lord does not seem to me to imply that he became lord to each particular man. In cases where the relation was much closer than between Scotland and England, the arrière vassal was not the man of the over-lord. Thus John of Joinville, as a vassal of the Count of Champagne, refused to do homage to the King of the French, because he was not his man. When Henry the Second exacted an oath of fealty from the vassals of William the Lion, the claim was a novelty, and it was given up by Richard the First, a renunciation which has been perverted into a renunciation of all superiority over Scotland.

But when we reach the final quarrel between Edward the First and John of Balliol, it turns on a question which looks very like a claim on the part of the King of England to jurisdiction in internal Scottish affairs. That is to say, Edward the First, as a feudal superior, received appeals from the courts of the King of Scots, exactly as the King of the French, Edward’s own feudal superior for the duchy of Aquitaine, received appeals from Edward’s courts in that duchy. We can hardly suppose that any such right was contemplated in the original Commendation; it is a notion essentially belonging to a later time. But it was no arbitrary invention of Edward; he did but receive the appeals which Scottish suitors brought before him of their own accord. The truth is that, when the commendatory relation had, in the ideas of both sides, changed into a strictly feudal one, the right of appeal would seem to follow as a matter of course, and neither side would stop to ask whether such a right was really implied in the ancient Commendation.

NOTE H. pp. 63, 125. THE GRANT OF CUMBERLAND.

Nothing can be plainer than the entry on this head in the Chronicles (945), “Her Eadmund cyning ofer hergode eal Cumbraland, and hit let eal to Malculme Scotta cyninge on þæt gerad þæt he wære his midwyrhta ægþer ge on sæ ge on lande.”

Florence simply translates, except that a slight tinge of the later feudalism is perhaps thrown in when he expresses the word “midwyrhta” by “fidelis.” Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 746 C), though bringing in some rather vague matter, is more literal in his version on this point; “Sequenti vero anno totam Cumberland, quia gentem provinciæ illius perfidam et legibus insolitam ad plenum domare nequibat, prædavit et contrivit et commendavit eam Malculmo regi Scotiæ hoc pacto, quod in auxilio sibi foret terra et mari.” William of Malmesbury (ii. 141) merely says, “Provincia quæ vocatur Cumberland regi Scottorum Malcolmo, sub fidelitate jurisjurandi commendata.” Roger of Wendover (ii. 398) adds the two important details, which he could hardly have invented, that Eadmund was helped in his expedition by Llywelyn of Dyfed, and that the sons of Dummail or Donald were blinded; “Eodem anno rex Eadmundus, adjutorio Leolini regis Demetiæ fretus, Cumbriam totam cunctis opibus spoliavit, ac duobus filiis Dummail, ejusdem provinciæ regis, oculorum luce privatis, regnum illud Malcolmo, Scotorum regi, de se tenendum concessit, ut aquilonales Angliæ partes terra marique ab hostium adventantium incursione tueretur.”

The Scottish writers, as I have said in the text, in no way deny the fact of the grant; they are indeed rather inclined, for obvious reasons, to make too much rather than too little of it. Fordun (iv. 24) is more explicit than any of the English writers, and uses the most distinctly feudal language; “Provinciam, quæ vocatur Cumbreland, regi Scotorum Malcolmo rex sub fidelitate jurisjurandi commendavit, hæc ille. Postmodum vero statim inter eos concordatum est, et amborum consilio decretum, ut in futurum, pro bono continuandæ pacis utriusque regni, Malcolmi regis proximus hæres Indulfus, cæterorumque regum Scotorum hæredes qui pro tempore fuerint, Edmundo regi suisque successoribus Anglis regibus homagium pro Cumbria facerent, ac fidelitatis sacramentum.” He goes on to say, in language which seems to come from the same source as the words of Henry of Huntingdon, that neither King was ever to take the Cumbrians, “barbaram aquilonis et perfidam gentem,” into his direct favour or homage, a promise which was afterwards broken on both sides.

The fact of the grant is also admitted in the book called “Extracta ex Cronicis Scocie,” pp. 49, 50, though the compiler vigorously asserts a former Scottish possession which was lost through the Scottish defeat at Brunanburh. Of King Gregory (875–892) we read (p. 46), “Hic etiam strenue totam subjugavit Hiberniam et pene totam Angliam.” Of Constantine (p. 47), “Hic rex xl annis regnavit, et quamvis contra eum bellabant reges Anglorum, Ead_winus_ [sic] et filius suus nothus Adelstanus successive regnantes, et contra Scotos cum Danis pactum et pacem inierunt, qui post iv annos rumpitur, et Angli a Scotis veniam precantes iterum Scotos sibi reconciliarunt. Quo toto tempore rex Constantinus Cumbriam et ceteras terras in Anglia possedit, et regni sui anno xvi dedit Eugenio filio Dovenaldi sperato successori dimidium regni Cumbri hereditarie possidendum.” It is curious to see the frame of mind in which he approaches the mention of Brunanburh; “Infaustus ille dies Scotis, nam quæque dominia temporibus Gregorii et hactenus conquesta, necnon liv annis possessa, quidam scribunt Constantinum regem hoc bello perdidisse.”

So we find it also in Hector Boece (218 b), by whose time the story had got further confused, and the grant, or rather treaty, is now attributed to Æthelstan instead of Eadmund; “Secundum legationem omnibus consentientibus fœdus inter Anglos Scotosque veteribus conditionibus est ictum, hac unica adjecta, ut Anglis Northumbria, Danico tum sanguine pene referto, cederent; Cumbria ac Vestmaria Scotis; ea lege, ut Scotorum princeps (ita eum qui secundum regem vita functum summum obiturus est magistratum, uti est significatum antea, vocant nostrates) in verba Anglorum regis ea pro regione juraret.” This passage is worth notice, as showing that the modern use of the word Prince, as equivalent to Ætheling, was coming into use in Boece’s time, but that it still needed explanation.

As to the fact and the nature of the grant to Malcolm there can, I think, be no doubt. It was probably the earliest instance in Britain of a fief in the strictest sense, as opposed to a case of commendation. But I wish to keep myself as clear as possible from all mazes as to the ever fluctuating boundaries of Strathclyde or Cumberland. On the whole matter, I would refer to Palgrave, English Commonwealth, i. 440 et seqq.

NOTE I. p. 65. THE CESSION OF LOTHIAN.

The question with regard to Lothian is briefly this. Was the cession of that part of Northumberland to the Scottish crown a grant from Eadgar to his faithful vassal Kenneth? Or was the district wrung by Malcolm from the fears of Eadwulf Cutel, or won by force of arms after the battle of Carham in 1018?

Mr. Robertson (Scotland under Early Kings, i. 96; ii. 390 et seqq., 426 et seqq.), consistently with his theory, strongly adopts the latter view, and maintains the former to be a mere “fabrication.” To me the question seems a very difficult one, about which it will be well to go minutely through all the authorities.

The Chronicles, Florence, William of Malmesbury, Simeon of Durham in his main history, are all silent as to any transfer of Lothian from English to Scottish dominion. And yet nothing is more certain than that Lothian was at one time English and that at a later time it became Scottish. The only question is as to the date of the change. The first beginnings of the Scottish occupation of Lothian are certainly older than either of the dates given above. Indulf, who reigned from 954 to 962, occupied Edinburgh, Eadwinesburh, the frontier fortress of the great Northumbrian Bretwalda, which ever after remained in the power of the Scots. This does not seem to have been a conquest made in war. The English forsook the post. “In hujus tempore,” says the Pictish Chronicler (Ant. Celt. Norm. p. 142), “oppidum Eden vacuatum est, ac relictum est Scottis usque in hodiernum diem.” Possibly Edinburgh was a grant made by Eadred on his final acquisition of Northumberland in 954. Eadred’s relations with Scotland were friendly. The Scots made full submission to him on his election in 946; they acted as his allies in his wars with the rebellious Northumbrians; Scots and English, “the men of Alba and the Saxons,” were, according to the Four Masters (vol. ii. p. 668), defeated by the “foreigners”—doubtless the Danes—in 951. If Eadred rewarded his Scottish ally with the grant of Edinburgh, the step would be very like the grant of Cumberland to Malcolm in 945. On the other hand, it is quite possible that the relinquishment of Edinburgh by the English may have been less wholly an act of free will than the grant of Cumberland; it may have been found difficult or useless to maintain so distant a fortress during the troubles of the reign of Eadwig. But on any showing, the event of Indulf’s reign was simply a relinquishment of the single fortress of Edinburgh, though such a relinquishment may well have been felt, especially on the Scottish side, to be merely a step towards the transfer of the whole province. For the date of the great cession our authorities are John of Wallingford (p. 544) and Roger of Wendover (i. 416), who give the earlier date, and Simeon of Durham in his Tract on the Northumbrian Earls (X Scriptt. 81), who gives the later.

According to John of Wallingford, Eadgar (see p. 266 and Appendix KK), in a meeting of the Northumbrian Witan at York (“barones Northumbrenses in concilium convocans apud Eboracum”), divided the ancient kingdom into two earldoms, giving Deira to Oslac and Bernicia (which John confusedly calls Deira) to Eadwulf “Evelchild.” The name of Eadwulf is seemingly due to some confusion with Oswulf, whom John fancies to be dead. But Lothian, the northern part of Bernicia, lying exposed to the incursions of the Scots, was little valued by the English Kings. The King of Scots moreover asserted a claim to it by hereditary right. Kenneth accordingly went to London, accompanied by the two Northumbrian Earls and by Ælfsige Bishop of Lindisfarne, to seek a conference with Eadgar. Eadgar received him friendly, and Kenneth opened his case, praying for Lothian as an ancient possession of the Scottish Kings. Eadgar referred the matter to his Witan (“caussam curiæ suæ intimavit”), by whose consent the province was granted in fief—I cannot avoid the terms of a later jurisprudence—to Kenneth, who did homage for it. Kenneth also promised that the ancient laws and customs of the country should be preserved and the English language retained, an engagement which was strictly carried out (“sub cautione multa promittens quod populo partis illius antiquas consuetudines non negaret, et sub nomine et lingua Anglicana permanerent. Quod usque hodie firmum manet”). Thus the old dispute about Lothian was settled, though new ones often arose (“sicque determinata est vetus querela de Louthion, et adhuc nova sæpe intentatur”).

Roger of Wendover is briefer. He tells how Earl Eadwulf—he does not mention Oslac—and Bishop Ælfsige took the Scottish King to the court of Eadgar; how the King of the English gave Kenneth many magnificent presents, and granted to him the whole land of Lothian. The tenure was that, each year, on the great feasts when the King wore his crown (see the Peterborough Chronicle under the year 1087), the King of Scots should come to his court with the other princes of his realm. Eadgar also assigned to his royal vassal and his successors several houses at different points of the road, at which they could be entertained on their way to the English court, which mansions the Kings of Scots retained down to the time of Henry the Second.

Simeon places the cession after the death of Uhtred in 1016 (see p. 448);

“Quo [Ucthredo] occiso, frater ipsius Eadulf cognomento Cudel, ignavus valde et timidus, et successit in comitatum. Timens autem ne Scotti mortem suorum quos frater ejus, ut supradictum est [see p. 329], occiderat, in se vindicarent, totum Lodoneium ob satisfactionem et firmam concordiam eis donavit. Hoc modo Lodoneium adjectum est regno Scottorum.”

Now, looking at our authorities in the abstract, there is no doubt as to the infinite superiority of Simeon, our very best authority for Northumbrian affairs, over two late and often inaccurate writers like John of Wallingford and Roger of Wendover. If there is an irreconcileable contradiction between the two stories, Simeon’s story is to be preferred without hesitation. I hold that Simeon’s statement distinctly proves that some cession of Lothian was made by Eadwulf, and, if so, we can hardly be wrong in setting down that cession as a result of the battle of Carham. The question is whether this can be admitted, and at the same time some kernel of truth be recognized in the story told by John and Roger. Let us first see what the witness of those writers is worth in itself.

I need hardly say that secondary writers of this sort, even the best of them, must be subjected to much severer tests than any that we apply to the Chronicles, to Florence, or even to William of Malmesbury. We accept nothing, strictly speaking, on their authority. We weigh their statements and judge what they are worth, both according to the laws of internal evidence and according to the way in which they may incidentally fall in with or incidentally contradict the statements of better writers. We put very little faith in their details, which are more likely than not to be romantic additions. Still in all cases we acknowledge the likelihood that there is some kernel of truth round which the romantic details have grown. John of Wallingford is undoubtedly a writer whom it is not safe to trust, unless his statements have some strong confirmation, internal or external. Of his way of dealing with matters, I have given some specimens in the course of this volume (see Note GG). Still he is not to be cast aside as wholly worthless. A few pages before the passage with which we are concerned (pp. 535, 540), he shows a good deal of critical acumen in pointing out the chronological impossibility of the tale which makes Rolf an ally of the great Æthelstan (see above, p. 165). Roger of Wendover is, on the whole, a more trustworthy writer than John, and when he comes nearer to his own time, he becomes a very valuable authority; but for times so far removed from their own days, John and Roger must be set down as writers belonging essentially to the same class. Now in comparing their two statements as to the cession of Lothian by Eadgar, we are at once struck by the fact that the two accounts seem quite independent of each other. There is no sign that either narrative is borrowed from the other, no sign that the two are borrowed from some common source. The two stories do not directly contradict one another; but they have nothing in common, except the bare facts that Kenneth received the province from Eadgar, and that Earl Eadwulf and Bishop Ælfsige had a hand in the business. They are two independent witnesses, pointing, as it seems to me, to two independent sources of tradition or lost record. And of the two, the narrative of John of Wallingford certainly has the clearer inherent signs of trustworthiness. If there is any ground to suspect fabrication with a motive—not necessarily in the historian himself, but in those whom he followed—it certainly appears in the narrative of Roger rather than in that of John. Roger gives no account of the circumstances of the grant, he assigns no intelligible political motive for it, he describes no intelligible tenure by which the fief was to be held; he dwells mainly on the magnificence of the presents made by Eadgar to Kenneth, and on points bearing on questions which, when he wrote, were matters of recent controversy and negotiation. The points brought out into the greatest prominence are the duty of the King of Scots to attend at the English court, and the signs at once of English munificence and of Scottish submission displayed in the preparations made for the due reception of the royal vassal. These were points of no small interest in the times when Roger was young, and which were not forgotten when he wrote. There is nothing of this kind in the narrative of John of Wallingford. He has undoubtedly made a false step on ground on which it is very easy to make a false step, namely in the succession of the Northumbrian Earls. Even the accurate Simeon, writing so much nearer to the place and to the time, has himself, in one case at least, done the like (see Note LLL). John’s Eadwulf Evelchild ought to be Oswulf, just as Simeon’s Uhtred, in the account of the battle of Carham, ought to be Eadwulf. But John’s main story fits in very well with the facts of the case. Mr. Robertson (ii. 391) objects that there was no “old quarrel about Lothian.” But the facts show that there was. Surely Lothian was an old Pictish possession which had been conquered by the Angles, and which was sometimes partially won back by its old owners. The wars of Æthelfrith (Bæda, i. 34) and of Ecgfrith (iv. 26) surely make up a very old “querela de Louthion,” but one not too old for Celtic memories to bear in mind. The acquisition of Edinburgh, however made, shows that the Scottish Kings in the tenth century were looking steadily in the direction of Lothian. Kenneth himself, friendly as he now was to Eadgar, had made at least one foray into the country. The Pictish Chronicle (Ant. Celt. Norm. 143) says, “Primo anno perrexit Cinadius et prædavit Saxoniam [Lothian] et traduxit filium regis Saxonum” (see p. 65). The captivity of an English Ætheling is a grotesque exaggeration; but we may accept the fact that Kenneth had some border skirmishes with the local Earl, who in 971, the first year of Kenneth, would be Oswulf. All this shows that the acquisition of Lothian was at this time a favourite object of Scottish ambition. And now that Eadgar and Kenneth were on friendly terms, a grant of the country, like the undoubted grant of Cumberland, like the probable grant of Edinburgh, might be an act of thoroughly good policy on the part of England. A distant province, which it was hard to keep as an integral part of the kingdom, might be prudently granted as a fief to the prince by whom it was claimed, and to whose incursions it lay open. That the conditions spoken of by John of Wallingford, the retention of the laws and language of Lothian, were strictly kept, is proved by the whole later history. The laws and language of Lothian became the laws and language of the historic Scotland.

The cession recorded by John of Wallingford seems therefore to be in itself highly probable. But is it inconsistent with the later, and undoubtedly better authenticated, cession recorded by Simeon of Durham? It does not seem to me to be so; neither did it to Sir Francis Palgrave (Engl. Comm. i. 474, 477) or to Dr. Lappenberg (ii. 141, 207, p. 473 of the original). It may be that the word Lothian, a somewhat vague name, has a slightly different meaning in the two passages; it may be that a cession was made to Kenneth by Eadgar, and a further cession by Eadwulf Cutel to Malcolm. It is less easy to believe, with Sir Francis Palgrave, that Eadwulf’s cession was a cession of the rights of the local Earl, reserved, or not formally surrendered, at the time of the earlier grant by the King. The simplest explanation is to suppose that Lothian was recovered by the English after the great victory of Uhtred in 1006, that it was occupied again by the Scots after their victory at Carham, and that then the cowardly Eadwulf gave up all claim to it. Cnut however, in 1031, if not before (see p. 450 and Note LLL), set matters straight. In that year at least, “Scotta cyng him to beah,” “and wearð his mann”—Malcolm then became the liegeman of the King of all England for Scotland and Lothian and all that he had.

This I believe to be the most probable explanation of this difficult question. The silence of the Chronicles proves nothing either way; it has to be accounted for equally on either view of the story. No transfer of Lothian at any time is mentioned in the Chronicles, yet we know that a transfer did take place at some time. The positive argument from the statement of the Chronicles is always the strongest that can be found; the negative argument from their silence is, under varying circumstances, of every degree of strength and weakness. Here it seems easily accounted for. The Chroniclers are at all times somewhat capricious in their mention or neglect of Scottish affairs. They mention neither the victory of Durham nor the defeat of Carham. And the reigns of Eadgar and Cnut, the periods with which we are immediately concerned, are periods in which the Chronicles are decidedly meagre, as compared with their minute narratives of the reigns of Æthelred and of Eadward the Confessor.

How thoroughly English Lothian was held to be long after either date assigned to the cession appears from the words of the Chronicler, 1091; “Melcolm ... for mid his fyrde ut of Scotlande into Loðene on Englaland.” Florence translates “Northymbriam invasit.” One would like to know whether the “xii. villæ quas in Anglia sub patre illius [Willelmi Rufi sc.] habuerat [Malcolmus]” (Flor. Wig. 1091) were in Lothian or where.

NOTE K. pp. 75, 117. EALDORMEN AND KINGS.

The description of the oldest Teutonic constitution given by Cæsar (Bell. Gall. vi. 23) tells us, “In pace nullus est communis magistratus; sed principes regionum atque pagorum inter suos jus dicunt.” This seems to imply a government by Ealdormen as distinguished from one by Kings. Pagus is the Gau or Shire. So Dio (lxxi. 11), describing the German embassies to Marcus, says, οἱ μὲν κατὰ γένη, οἱ δὲ καὶ κατὰ ἔθνη ἐπρεσβεύσαντο. But Tacitus (Germ. 25, 44) seems to distinguish the tribes “quæ regnantur” from others. So Arminius was suspected of aiming at royalty (Ann. ii. 88); “Regnum adfectans, libertatem popularium adversam habuit.” So Bæda (v. 10) describes the Old-Saxons at the end of the seventh century. They had no King, but Satraps, that is doubtless Ealdormen; in war-time one Satrap was chosen as a common commander, but his superiority ended with the conclusion of peace. “Non enim habent regem iidem Antiqui Saxones, sed satrapas plurimos suæ genti præpositos, qui ingruente belli articulo mittunt æqualiter sortes, et quemcumque sors ostenderit, hunc tempore belli ducem omnes sequuntur, huic obtemperant; peracto autem bello, rursum æqualis potentiæ omnes fiunt satrapæ.” I have collected some other analogous cases in the Growth of the English Constitution, 172–3 (3rd ed.), and Comparative Politics, 414. In Zosimos (iv. 34) Athanaric is ἄρχων and Frithgar ἡγεμών. We may compare the description of the Alemanni at the battle of Strassburg in Ammianus, xvi. 12. Chnodomarius, the Bretwalda, so to speak, comes first, then some other chiefs by name; “Hos sequebantur potestate proximi reges numero quinque, regalesque decem et optimatum series magna.” Are the regales Æthelings, or are they subreguli, undercyningas, ealdormen?

With regard to the Kentishmen and the West-Saxons, the case seems perfectly clear. We read of the Jutes in the Chronicles, 449, “Heora heretogan wæron twegen gebroðra, Hengest and Horsa.” Here heretogan translates the duces of Bæda, i. 15. And of the West-Saxons in 495, “Her comen twegen ealdormen on Brytene Cerdic and Cynric his súnu.” Afterwards in 519 we find nearly the same words applied to them as to Ida, “Her Cerdic and Cynric Westseaxena rice onfengon.” The word rice I take to mark the change from ealdormanship to kingship. Between the two dates, in 514, is placed the reinforcement under Stuf and Wihtgar. The temporary change from Kings back again to Ealdormen is distinctly asserted by Bæda, iv. 12; “Quumque mortuus esset Coinvalch ... acceperunt subreguli regnum gentis, et divisum inter se tenuerunt annis circiter decem.... Devictis atque amotis subregulis, Cædualla suscepit imperium.” The Chronicles however give an uninterrupted succession of Kings during this time. In 672 Cenwealh dies; his widow Sexburh succeeds—a most rare case of a female reign. Then follow Æscwine in 674, Centwine in 676, Ceadwalla in 685. The change from Ealdormen to Kings in Mercia and East-Anglia is also plainly marked in the remarkable passage of Henry of Huntingdon which I quoted in page 26. And we may with all likelihood, as I there said, assert much the same of Northumberland. But between the case of Wessex and the case of Mercia or Northumberland there would be this difference. In Mercia, and probably in Northumberland, a number of small but quite independent kingdoms or ealdormanships were brought in under the power of a single conqueror, while in Wessex, though there were several Kings at once, a certain national unity was never lost. The change therefore from Kings back again to Ealdormen was possible in Wessex, where it was merely a change in the form of government; in Mercia it would have been the utter dissolution of every tie between the different parts of the country.

The history of the Lombards affords in this respect a singular parallel to the history of the West-Saxons. According to Paul Warnefrid (Gest. Langob. i. 14, ap. Muratori, i. 413), they were at first governed by Dukes, but afterwards they chose a King; “Nolentes jam ultra Langobardi esse sub ducibus, regem sibi ad ceterarum instar gentium statuerunt.” There is no reason to doubt the fact, though it is placed in a mythical age, and though Paul the Deacon is evidently thinking of Saul and the Hebrews. Indeed the change from Judges and “Dukes” to Kings among the Hebrews and Edomites is only another instance of the same law. At a later time, after their settlement in Italy, the Lombards fell back again from Kings to Dukes or Ealdormen. Paul Warn. ii. 32; “Post cujus [Cleph] mortem, Langobardi per annos decem regem non habentes sub ducibus fuerunt. Unusquisque enim ducum [there were thirty of them] suam civitatem obtinebat.” (See Allen, Royal Prerogative, 165.) In comparing these Lombard revolutions with those of the West-Saxons and Old-Saxons, it should not be forgotten that a considerable body of Saxons is said (Paul Warn. ii. 6) to have taken a part in the Lombard invasion of Italy. But parallels may be found in very distant times and places. Compare the twelve Kings of Egypt in the second Book of Herodotus.

That Heretoga and Ealdorman express the same office in different aspects, there can, I think, be no doubt. See Kemble, Saxons in England, ii. 126. I do not however understand Mr. Kemble’s meaning when he says; “The word Heretoga is nowhere found in the Saxon Chronicle, and, to the best of my remembrance, but once in the Charters.” Besides the passage above quoted, it is found in the Chronicles under the years 794 (of Danish pirates), 993 (of English commanders), 1003 (in a proverb), 1121 (of a Duke of Lotharingia). I have not looked through all the Charters for the purpose, but it is used in three successive grants of Bishop Oswald (Cod. Dipl. iii. 259, 260, 262) to express an Ealdorman of the Mercians.

We have just seen Heretoga used in English to translate the High-Dutch Herzog; but the Dukes and Counts of Gaul commonly appear in the Chronicles as Eorlas. Eorl however, as the later equivalent of Ealdorman, is also equivalent to Heretoga. Ælfred uses Heretoga to translate the Latin Consul, just as, in return, Gaulish Counts and English Ealdormen are constantly spoken of as Consules.

On the use of Ealdor, Ealdorman, Yldestan þegnas, to express simply rank and office without any reference to actual age, and for analogous uses in other languages, see Kemble, ii. 128; Heywood’s Ranks of the People, 53; Schmid’s Glossary under Eald, Ealdorman, &c.; Comparative Politics, 366. We have Ealdorapostol, Ealdorbiscop, and even, if I mistake not, Ealdordeofol. Kemble compares the use of Senatus, γέρων, πρεσβύτερος, and the feudal use of Senior, Seigneur. Πρέσβυς in the sense of Ambassador may be added to the list, and the Latin Patres, Patricius, express the same general idea. In the same spirit the Ealdorman’s deputy is called his Younger; see Ælfred’s Laws, 38, § 2 (Schmid, 92); “gif þises hwæt beforan cyninges ealdormonnes gingran gelimpe, oððe cyninges preôste,” etc. So Lewis the Pious (Waitz, iv. 262, 368) speaks to his officials of “vos et juniores vestri, juniores et ministeriales vestri.”

Hlaford, as equivalent, or perhaps something more than equivalent, to Ealdorman, seems peculiar to Æthelred of Mercia (see above, p. 382), though of course the word may be applied to an Ealdorman, as it is to Brihtnoth in the Song of Maldon, with reference to those persons to whom he was personally hlaford. Eorl, I need hardly say, supplanted Ealdorman in later times. The older English meaning of the word Eorl has been already explained. The later special sense in which it is equivalent to Ealdorman came in with the Danes, whose leaders had always been called Jarls. The governors of Northumberland, after the incorporation under Eadred, certainly bore the Danish title. Urm, Andcol, Uhtred (the ancestor of a long line of Northumberland Earls), Grim, and Scule, all seemingly Northumbrian chiefs, sign a charter of Eadred in 949 (Cod. Dipl. ii. 292) with the title of Eorl. The same title is applied to Oslac both in the Chronicles under 975 (“Oslac se mæra eorl”), and in the laws of Eadgar (Thorpe, i. 278), where the Earl Oslac seems to be pointedly distinguished from the Ealdormen Ælfhere of Mercia and Æthelwine of East-Anglia. So in the Chronicles for 992 “Ælfric ealdorman” (the well-known Ælfric, of whom more in Note CC) is no less pointedly distinguished from “Þored eorl.” But when the word Eorl is found in this sense in the Chronicles at an earlier date, it is always a sign of later insertion. (See Earle, p. 38.) Whether the title was in use throughout the Denalagu is less clear. Brihtnoth is called Eorl in the poem of Maldon; but this may be a poetical use. He is also called Ealdor in the wide sense in the poem itself, as well as Ealdorman in various documents and in the Chronicles. On the other hand the Chronicles constantly speak of Ealdormen, even in Danish districts like Lindesey; but this may be an accommodation to Southern language, and they do so even when speaking of Northumberland. In the purely Saxon districts there can be no doubt that the ancient title of Ealdorman went on uninterruptedly, till, under Cnut, Eorl gradually supplanted it everywhere. See p. 407.

That birth was of less importance in the case of an Ealdorman than in the case of a King appears from the well-known words of Tacitus (Germ. 7), “Reges ex nobilitate, Duces ex virtute sumunt.” This is most curiously illustrated in the Song of Brunanburh, where seven earls of the Danes are killed and five young kings (“Fife lagon On ðæm campstede Ciningas geonge”). The King ruling “ex nobilitate” might be young; the Earl ruling “ex virtute” was likely to be old.

On this whole subject of the origin and growth of kingship see the Authorities and Illustrations to Allen on the Royal Prerogative.

NOTE L. p. 78. ORIGIN OF THE WORD KING.

It is enough for my purpose that the word Cyning is closely connected with the word Cyn. (See Allen, Royal Prerogative, 176; Kemble, i. 153.) That the two words are of the same origin, as is shown by a whole crowd of cognates, cynebarn, cynecyn, cynedom, cynehelm, cyne-hlaford (used in the Chronicles, a. 1014, as equivalent to gecynde hlaford), cynelice, cynerice, cynestol. (I copy from Mr. Earle’s Glossarial Index.) In all these words cyn has the meaning of royal. What little I venture to say on the remote Aryan affinities of the word I have said in Comparative Politics, 450, Growth of the English Constitution, 172.

The modern High-Dutch König is an odd corruption; but the elder form is Chuninc. The word has never had an English feminine; Queen is simply cwen, woman, wife, the same as the Greek γυνή, but in Wessex, from the days of Beorhtric to those of William, Cwen most rarely occurs (Chron. 855 and Chron. Petrib. 1043, though in both these passages it may simply mean wife); Hlæfdige (see above, p. 575) is the regular title.

Sir Francis Palgrave’s attempt (ii. cccxli.) to derive the word from a Celtic root Cen (head), to say nothing of other objections, could not account for the use of the word among the Teutonic nations on the Continent. Still more ludicrous is the notion of the King being the canning or cunning man, an idea which could have occurred only to a mind on which all Teutonic philology was thrown away. It is however as old as Sir Thomas Smith, who, in the Commonwealth of England (pp. 9, 10) says, “That which we cal in one sillable king in English, the old Englishmen, and the Saxons, from whom our tongue is derived, to this day call in two sillables, cyning, which whether it commeth of cen or ken, which betokeneth to know and understand, or can, which betokeneth to be able, or to have power, I cannot tel.”

The connexion of Cyning with Cyn is closely analogous to the connexion of the word Þeoden (the Gothic Þiudans) with Þeod (see Kemble, i. 152) and that of Drihten with Driht. In all these cases the ruler takes his name from those whom he rules.

The origin of the word is curiously illustrated in Cardinal Pole’s exposition of the nature of kingship, quoted in Froude’s History of England, iii. 34. “‘What is a king?’ he asks. ‘A king exists for the sake of his people; he is an outcome from Nature in labour [partus naturæ laborantis]; an institution for the defence of material and temporal interests.... In human society are three grades—the people—the priesthood, the head and husband of the people—the king, who is the child [populus enim regem procreat], the creature, and minister of the other two.’”

One can hardly suspect Pole of any Teutonic scholarship, but if he had not the true derivation of the word king before his eyes, the coincidence is remarkable. Not very unlike is the speech of Philip Pot, Great Seneschal of Burgundy in the States General of Tours in 1484. “La royauté est une dignité et non un héritage. Dans l’origine, le peuple souverain créa des rois pour son utilité.” De Cherrier, Histoire de Charles VIII. i. 76.

NOTE M. p. 78. KING OF ENGLAND OR KING OF THE ENGLISH?

It is most curious to see how very modern are those territorial titles which, for some centuries past, European Kings have thought good to assume. In Greek we always find a national sovereign described by the national style; it is always Λακεδαιμονίων, Μακεδόνων, even Περσῶν and Μήδων, βασιλεύς. In Livy (xxxi. 14, xxxv. 13) we no doubt read of “Antiochus rex Syriæ” and “Ptolemæus rex Ægypti.” But this is of course, because the kingship of the Ptolemies and Seleucidæ was so utterly unnational that any but a territorial description would have been absurd. In fact it is a description and not a title. As a description of this kind, the words “Rex Franciæ” actually occur as early as the tenth century. (Flodoard, A. 924.) But this is not a formal title; it is merely the annalist’s vague way of describing or pointing at a prince who had as yet no formal title. If one Rudolf is “Rex Franciæ,” in the very same year another Rudolf is “Cisalpinæ rex Galliæ,” which certainly never was the formal title of any man. The truth is that, throughout the ninth and tenth centuries, the various Frankish Kings had no formal title beyond the vague “Rex Francorum,” common to all of them. The Chroniclers had therefore to describe each King as they might, just as the sons of Charles the Great are indifferently called “Rex super Aquitaniam,” or “Italiam,” Ann. Laur. 781 (Pertz, i. 32); “Rex in Aquitania,” Ann. Egin. 781, and “Aquitaniæ Rex” (ib. 813). But when the French Kings adopted a formal title, Rex Francorum Christianissimus was the style down to the end of the line of Valois. Franciæ et Navarræ Rex came in with Henry of Bourbon. When the ancient style was revived in 1791, and again in 1830, many people seem to have thought it a strange innovation.

In both Empires, down to the last days of each, the style is always “Romanorum Imperator,” Ῥωμαίων βασιλεύς. It is only late in the thirteenth century, and when a prince has to be described by his dominions, that we find such a title as the Trapezuntine style πιστὸς βασιλεὺs καὶ αὐτοκράτωρ Ἀνατολής, Ἰβήρων, καὶ Περατείας. (Finlay, Mediæval Greece and Trebizond, 370.) In earlier days Charles the Great was “Patricius Romanorum.”

In England it would seem that Cnut, and Cnut alone before the Norman Conquest, did call himself “King of England.” In the Preface to his Laws (Thorpe, i. 358; Schmid, 250) he is called “Cnut cyningc, ealles Englalandes cyningc, and Dena cyningc and Norðrigena cyningc.” In the letter from Rome in Florence (1031) he calls himself “Rex totius Angliæ et Denemarciæ et Norreganorum et partis Suanorum.” In a doubtful charter (Cod. Dipl. iv. 50) he is “Rex totius Angliæ regni atque Danorum;” “Cing ealles Englelandes and ealre Dene.” In two most doubtful charters (Cod. Dipl. iv. 25, 41) he is “Kining of Ænglelande,” and “Rex totius Angliæ et Danmarchiæ et Norwagiæ et magnæ partis Swavorum.” In other charters he is either “Rex Anglorum” (as Florence calls him when speaking in his own person) or else he assumes the Imperial style.

It has been suggested that Cnut took up his territorial style as being a conqueror of the land, not a native monarch of the people. But the above instances show that, though he fluctuates between the two forms, he makes no consistent distinction between his hereditary and his acquired kingdoms. Moreover Cnut, like William, was formally elected King, and he was even less likely than William to assume any title which would be offensive to his English subjects. This makes one inclined to look a little further. In the most authentic documents, Anglia, Englaland, does not occur without a qualification; the words are “totius Angliæ,” “ealles Englalandes.” Is this description so distinctly and unmistakeably territorial as the later forms, “Rex Angliæ,” “King of England”? The totius, the ealles, strikes me as making a difference. It may show that what is meant is, not “King of England” in the later sense, but “King over the whole land of the English,” as distinguished from Cnut’s earlier and narrower dominion while the kingdom was divided between him and Eadmund. But anyhow Cnut stands alone before the Norman Conquest in the use of this style. After the Conquest “Rex Angliæ” begins to creep in, but at first very rarely. William himself is all but invariably “Rex Anglorum.” Richard is the first King who is systematically “Rex Angliæ” in his charters, and even he is “Rex Anglorum” on his seal. And during his reign his mother stuck to the old style “Regina Anglorum.” The final innovation of “Rex Angliæ” on the seal is due to King John. See Allen, p. 51.

In everything, in short, belonging to our old days it is the people who stand forth and not the mere land. In fact, except in the case of old geographical names like Gaul and Britain, the land can hardly be said to have a being or a name apart from the people. The land is simply called by the name of the people, like Lokroi and Leontinoi in Greek geography, like Franken and Hessen in Germany. So in our Chronicles, in the year 774, we read “gefuhton Myrce and Cantwara,” where Myrce is clearly the people; but in 796 we read “hine læddon on Myrce,” where we must take Myrce for the country. On the use of the name Englaland I shall speak in Note T.

On this modern notion of “territorial sovereignty,” see Maine, Ancient Law, 103. He remarks that “territorial titles were not unknown, but they seem at first to have come into use only as a convenient mode of describing the ruler of a portion; the king of a whole tribe was king of his people, not of his people’s lands.” This is, I suppose, the “rex super Aquitaniam,” and the like.

NOTE N. pp. 91, 122. COMMENDATION.

On the subject of Commendation a good deal will be found in Hallam’s Middle Ages (i. 114, edition 1846), and still more in the Supplementary Notes (p. 118; and see specially Waitz, iv. 204). By the time of Æthelstan a lordless man seems to have become something exceptional, and to have needed special legislation (see Æthelstan’s Laws in Schmid, 132. “Be hlâfordleâsum mannum”). The passages from the Capitularies quoted by Hallam imply the necessity of every man seeking a lord, though they leave to him the right of choosing what lord he will seek. There is another remarkable Capitulary of Lewis the Pious in the year 815 (Baluz. i. 552), in which the Emperor grants the power of Commendation, as an accustomed right of his own subjects, to the Spanish Christians who had taken refuge within his dominions from the oppression of the Saracens; “Noverint tamen iidem Hispani sibi licentiam a nobis esse concessam ut se in vassaticum commitibus nostris more solito commendet. Et si beneficium aliquod quisquam eorum ab eo cui se commendavit fuerit consequutus, sciat se de illo tali obsequium seniori suo exhibere debere quale nostrates homines de simili beneficio senioribus suis exhibere solent.” This is remarkable as showing the distinction between the personal Commendation of a man to his lord and the grant of a feudal benefice by that lord. The grant is not necessarily implied, but it is looked on as something which is likely to follow. “Commendati homines” are often mentioned in Domesday, and there are numberless phrases which come to the same thing, though the exact words are not used. There is one very curious story in Hertfordshire (136 b), where a certain Godwine held lands for a life or lives of the church of Westminster, but after his death his widow illegally transferred the lordship of the lands to Eadgifu the Fair. “Hanc terram tenuit Godwinus de ecclesia Sancti Petri; non potuit vendere, sed post mortem ejus debebat ad ecclesiam redire, ut hundreda testatur; sed uxor ejus cum hac terra vertit se per vim ad Eddevam pulcram, et tenebat ea die qua Edwardus rex fuit vivus et mortuus.” This Godwine who could not sell his land is distinguished from various “homines” of Eadgifu “qui potuerunt vendere.” See more in vol. v. p. 885.

This process of seeking a lord we find described in the Laws of Ælfred (37, Schmid 90), where the proper formalities are described; “Gif mon wille of bold-getale in oðer bold-getæl hlâford sêcan, dô þæt mid þæs ealdormonnes gewitnesse þe he ǽr in his scire folgode.” And this phrase of seeking or choosing a lord is the very phrase which is used to express the international commendation of Wales and Scotland to the English King. In the Chronicles, 922, we read of Eadward, “and þa cyningas on Norþ Wealum, Howel and Cledauc and Ieoþwel, and eall Norþ Weallcyn hine sohton him to hlaforde.” And in the famous passage which describes the great commendation of 924 (see above, p. 576) the words are, “hine geces þa to fæder and to hlaforde Scotta cyning,” &c.

Of the use of the word as applied on an international scale there is an early instance in the letter of Pope Stephen to Pippin (Waitz, iii. 84; cf. 87), where he says, “tam ipsi Spoletani quamque etiam Beneventani omnes se commendare per nos a Deo servatæ excellentiæ tuæ cupiunt.” But the best setting forth of the doctrine between sovereign princes is to be found in the words which Dudo (128 D) puts into the mouth of Hugh the Great, when he explains to young Richard the need of seeking a lord; “Hugo vero Magnus intelligens animadvertisse utrumque affectum voluntatis suæ, aperta cordis sui intentione dicitur respondisse: ‘Non est quippe mos Franciæ, ut quislibet princeps duxve constipatus abundantius tanto milite perseveret cunctis diebus taliter in dominio ditionis suæ, ut non aut famulatu voluntatis suæ, aut coactus vi et potestate, incumbat acclivius Imperatori, vel regi, ducive: et si forte perseveraverit in temeritate audaciæ suæ, ut non famularetur alicui volenter præcopiosa ubertate sufficientiæ suæ; solent ei rixæ dissentionesque atque casus innumerabilis detrimenti sæpissime accidere. Quapropter si placuisset Richardo duci tuo nepoti seipsum flectere ut militaret mihi, vestro saluberrimo consilio sponte filiam meam connubio illi jungerem; et terræ, quam hereditario jure possidet, continuus defensor et adjutor contra omnes adessem.’”

NOTE O. p. 91. GROWTH OF THE THEGNHOOD.

I cannot forbear transcribing the passage in which Mr. Kemble (Saxons in England, i. 183) sums up the general results of the growth of the Thegnhood. “As the royal power steadily advanced by his assistance, and the old, national nobility of birth, as well as the old, landed freeman sunk into a lower rank, the gesið found himself rising in power and consideration proportioned to that of his chief: the offices which had passed from the election of the freemen to the gift of the crown, were now conferred upon him, and the ealdorman, duke, geréfa, judge, and even the bishop, were at length selected from the ranks of the comitatus. Finally, the nobles by birth themselves became absorbed in the ever-widening whirlpool; day by day the freemen, deprived of their old national defences, wringing with difficulty a precarious subsistence from incessant labour, sullenly yielded to a yoke which they could not shake off, and commended themselves (such was the phrase) to the protection of a lord; till a complete change having thus been operated in the opinions of men, and consequently in every relation of society, a new order of things was consummated, in which the honours and security of service became more anxiously desired than a needy and unsafe freedom; and the alods being finally surrendered, to be taken back as beneficia, under mediate lords, the foundations of the royal, feudal system were securely laid on every side.”

The supplanting of an older by a newer form of nobility has several parallels in history. The distinction between patricii and nobiles at Rome has some analogies to the distinction between eorlas and þegnas in England. The plebeian could not become patrician, but he could become noble; and this plebeian nobility, derived from the possession of curule magistracies, answered to our thegnhood in being a nobility of office, though in this case it was office conferred by the people and not by a King or other lord. See more in Comparative Politics, 246–270. On the growth of the official comitatus in the courts of the Frankish Kings and Emperors see the chapter of Waitz (iii. 410), “Der Hof und die Reichsversammlung.” He comments on the difference between this and the earlier comitatus; but both are instances of the same principle. See also iv. 278 of the same work, “Dabei wird immer auch auf Abstammung, Ansehn des Geschlechtes Werth gelegt; aber ein bestimmter rechtlicher Vorzug war damit nicht verbunden.” He has collected a great number of cases of the use of the word nobilis and other equivalent words in the Carolingian age, that is to say, just at the point when the old notion of nobility had come to an end and when the new one had not fully developed itself. In that immediate stage nobility means simply to have meant free birth, or at all events free birth combined with the possession of land.

NOTE P. p. 95. GRANTS OF FOLKLAND.

I hope to say something more in my fifth volume about the tenure of land in England. I will here only give one or two specimens of the form of these grants.

In 977 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 157) King Eadward makes a grant to Ælfric (which Ælfric?) in these terms; “Aliquam partem terræ juris mei perpetuali donatione libenter concedo cuidam fideli meo ministro [þegn] vocitato nomine Ælfric, ob illius amabile obsequium dignatus sum largiri.” He is to have it in full property, with the right of bequest, and to hold it free of all services “exceptis istis tribus, expeditione, pontis arcisve munitione.” So Æthelred in 982 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 188) grants “ruris quamdam sed communem portionem, quam hujus nationis indigenæ usitato æt Stoce nuncupant onomate, cuipiam mihi pisticâ [one thinks of the πιστοί in the Persians of Æschylus] devotione subnixo vocitamine Leofrico.” The grantee is to have full power of bequest, and to hold the land “ab omni terrenæ servitutis jugo liberum, excepta expeditione, pontis arcisve restauratione.” Fearful curses are imprecated on any one who shall disturb the grantees in their possessions.

Bishops make grants to their own thegns of Church lands to be held for one, two, or three lives, and then to revert to the Church. The Codex contains a great many grants of this kind made by Bishop Oswald, the grant being made by leave of the King and of the reigning Ealdorman of the Mercians. In one, in English, which immediately follows the grant to Ælfric (iii. 159), we find the trinoda necessitas duly excepted. “Sie hit ǽlces þinges freoh búton ferdfare and walgeworc and brygcgeworc and cyrcanláde.”

The consent of the Witan is marked in the grant to Leofric by the words “his testibus consentientibus quorum inferius nomina caraxantur.” So Eadgar (iii. 153) makes a grant “optimatum meorum utens consilio,” &c., &c.

The Codex Diplomaticus is of course the great storehouse of knowledge on this subject.

NOTE Q. p. 101. THE CONSTITUTION OF THE WITENAGEMÓT.

I conceive that my notions about the Witenagemót do not differ essentially from those of Mr. Kemble. The process by which a primary Assembly in a large country naturally shrinks up into a small official or aristocratic body could not be better drawn out than they are in his chapter on the Witenagemót (Saxons in England, ii. 191 et seqq.). He winds up (p. 195) with the words; “At what exact period the change I have attempted to describe was effected, is neither very easy to determine nor very material. It was probably very gradual, and very partial; indeed it may never have been formally recognized, for here and there we find evident traces of the people’s being present at, and ratifying the decisions of the Witan.” In a note on the next page Mr. Kemble goes on to refute the strange notion of Sir Francis Palgrave (ii. ccclxxxvi.) that a property qualification was needed for a seat in the Witenagemót. In fact Mr. Kemble’s remarks are all that could be wished, if he had only brought forward more clearly some of those “evident traces” to which he cursorily alludes.

I will try, partly at least, to fill up the gap. Take for instance the very beginning of recorded English legislation, the Dooms of Æthelberht (Thorpe, i. 2); “Gif cyning his leode to him gehated.” Leode here surely means people in the widest sense. So in the Preface to the Laws of Wihtræd (p. 36); “Ðær þa eadigan fundon mid ealra gemedum þas domas.” The great men propose, the people accept, just as in the concilia described by Tacitus. So the deposition of Sigeberht in 755 (of which more in the next Note) was, according to Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 729 C), who is clearly following some earlier writer, the act of the whole West-Saxon people; “Congregati sunt proceres et populus totius regni, et provida deliberatione et unanimi consensu omnium expulsus est a regno. Kinewlf vero, juvenis egregius de regia stirpe oriundus, electus est in regem.” So the “Decretum Episcoporum et aliorum sapientum de Kancia,” addressed to Æthelstan (Thorpe, i. 216), whatever its exact bearing, is drawn up in the name of the “thaini, comites [eorlas], et villani [ceorlas].” So the “Judicia Civitatis Lundoniæ” (p. 228, Schmid, 156) are confirmed by all, “ægder ge eorlisce ge ceorlisce,” in the Latin “comites et villani.” So in the Chronicles a popular element is often mentioned in the election of Kings and in other national acts. In 959 Eadgar was, according to Florence, “ab omni Anglorum populo electus.” In 1016 Eadmund is chosen by the Witan and the citizens (burhwaru) of London. So in 1036 Harold the First is chosen by most of the thegns north of Thames and by the liðsmen or sailors of London. In 1041 “all folk chose Eadward to King.” So in 1066 Harold took the kingdom “as men chose him thereto.” So in 1048, when Godwine proposes to interfere in the wars of the North, “hit þuhte unræd eallum folce.” So too Godwine, on his return in 1052, makes his speech in the Mycel Gemót “wið Eadward cyng his hlaford and wið ealle landleodan.” So with regard to a local body, in the account of a Scirgemót of Herefordshire in Cod. Dipl. iv. 54, though the thegns (“ealle ða þegnas on Herefordscíre”) are mentioned in a special way, yet the final judgement is given by the popular voice—“be ealles ðæs folces leáfe and gewitnesse.” With regard to the action of the citizens of London, the case no doubt simply was that they, being on the spot, could assert this right, which others at a distance could not do. But it must be remembered that till the eleventh century the Witan did not commonly meet either in London or in any other of the chief towns. Possibly, when a Gemót was held at Winchester or Exeter, the citizens of those towns would hold the same position as the Londoners did when the Gemót was held in their city. Something of this kind seems to be referred to in a charter of Æthelstan (Cod. Dipl. ii. 194) of the year 934—a charter remarkable on other grounds from the vast number of signatures, including four vassal Kings, and evidently passed in what was indeed a Mycel Gemót. It is given “in civitate opinatissima [sic] quæ Winteceaster nuncupatur, tota populi generalitate sub alis regiæ dapsilitatis ovanti.” The citizens both of London and of Winchester seem to be mentioned as electors of Kings as late as the accession of Stephen. (See W. Malms., Hist. Nov. i. 11.) Even as late as 1461, Edward Earl of March was elected King by a tumultuous assembly of the citizens of London, and the citizens were foremost in the revolution which placed Richard the Third on the throne in 1483. These elections are fully described in Hall’s Chronicle, pp. 253, 372. (See Growth of English Constitution, 204.) And that of Edward comes out well in the Collections of a London Citizen (Camden Society), 215, where we read how the Earl of March “enteryed unto the cytte of London, and there he toke uppon hym the crowne of Inglond by the avysse of the lordys spyrytual and temporalle, and by the elexyon of the comyns. And so he be-gan hys rayne.” These are plainly the last traces of the right which the citizens had more regularly exercised in the elections of Eadmund Ironside and of Harold the son of Cnut.

These passages seem distinctly to imply that every freeman had a theoretical right to attend. Some of the expressions used might be applied without impropriety to a representative assembly; but they could not be applied to a body not representative, unless, in theory at least, it took in the whole nation. These passages prove also that some form of demanding the assent of the people at large was always retained. But the retention of some such usage is almost proved, without going any further, by the custom which still exists of presenting the King at his coronation for the acceptance of the people (see vol. iii. Appendix E). This is at once the last trace of our elective monarchy, and the last vestige of the ancient right of the Teutonic freeman to take a direct part in the affairs of the nation. We may see the working of the same process on the continent in what Waitz, iii. 56, says of the Frankish Assemblies under the Karlings; “Das Volk, oder die Grossen, welche auf den allgemeinen Versammlungen im Namen des Volkes handelten.” But in the quasi-official language of Einhard (Vita Kar. 1) it is “publicus populi sui conventus,” and the Continuator of Fredegar (117 a, 752) speaks of the change of dynasty as made “cum consilio omnium Francorum.”

The charter of 934, which I have just quoted, starts a point of quite another kind, namely the question as to the attendance of the vassal Celtic princes in the English Witenagemót. On this I have said something in p. 132. The attendance of the Welsh Kings is not uncommon, especially in the reign of Æthelstan. They often sign charters with the titles of subregulus or undercyning. See the signatures, ranging from 930 to 956 (Cod. Dipl. ii. 170, 173, 193, 196, 203, 292, 304, 326, 413; v. 199, 208, 217), of the subreguli Howel, Morcant, Owen, Juthwal, Tudor, Syferth, Jacob, Jukil, and Wurgeat. The Cumbrian signatures are rarer, but we have those of Eugenius in 931 (v. 199) and 937 (ii. 203), and of Malcolm in 966 and 970 (ii. 413, iii. 59). The signature of Kenneth of Scotland is attached to three charters (Cod. Dipl. ii. 413, iii. 69; Palgrave, ii. ccli. cclii.), but the authenticity of all three has been suspected. Still his presence at the great ceremony at Chester shows that the appearance of the King of Scots in the Witenagemót was a thing that might be looked for. The treaty between Richard the First and William the Lion, by which the novel claims of Henry the Second were given up, contains elaborate rules for the reception of the King of Scots on his way to the King’s court as due of ancient custom (Palgrave, ii. cccxxxix.).

NOTE R. p. 106. THE RIGHT OF THE WITAN TO DEPOSE THE KING.

Mr. Kemble (ii. 219) formally reckons among the powers of the Witan that they “had the power to depose the King, if his government was not conducted for the benefit of the people.” He adds that “it is obvious that the very existence of this power would render its exercise an event of very rare occurrence.” He then goes on to discuss the case of Sigeberht at length, and adds, “I have little doubt that an equally formal, though hardly equally justifiable, proceeding severed Mercia from Eádwig’s kingdom, and reconstituted it as a separate state under Eádgár; and lastly from Simeon of Durham we learn that the Northumbrian Alchred was deposed and exiled, with the counsel and consent of all his people.”

This last Northumbrian case is worth notice, as showing that a perfectly legal proceeding may lurk under words which at first sight seem to imply mere violence. The two Chronicles, Worcester and Peterborough, which record the deposition of Ealhred in the year 774, use the words, “Her Norðhymbra fordrifon heora cyning Alchred of Eoforwic on Eastertid, and genamon Æþelred Molles sunu him to hlaforde.” So Florence, “Festi paschalis tempore Northymbrenses regem suum Alhredum, Molli regis successorem, Eboraco expulere, filiumque ejusdem regis Molli, Æthelberhtum, in regem levavere.” This might suggest the notion of a mere revolutionary act; but the words of Simeon bring out the legal character of the deposition much more strongly; “Alcredus rex, consilio et consensu suorum omnium, regiæ familiæ ac principum destitutus societate, exilio imperii mutavit majestatem.” With this new light before us, we better understand the force of the words of the Chronicles, “of Eoforwic on Eastertid.” It is plain that Ealhred was deposed by the Easter Gemót of his kingdom assembled in his capital. Simeon then goes on to speak of Æthelred as “tanto honore coronatus;” and it should be noticed that in 779, when he records the expulsion of Æthelred himself, richly deserved as it was by the treacherous murder of three of his Ealdormen, he does not use the same legal language; “Ethelredo expulso de regali solio et in exilio fugato, cogitur mœstos inire modos miserasque habere querelas. Elfwald vero filius Oswlfi, Ethelredo expulso, regnum Northanhymbrorum suscepit.” So in the Chronicles (778), “And þa feng Alfwold to rice and Æþeldred bedraf on lande.”

To turn to the case of Sigeberht, I have already quoted (see above, p. 400) the words of Henry of Huntingdon, in whose account the legal action of the nation stands out most clearly; but the consent of the Witan appears also in all the other accounts. In the Chronicles (755) we read, “Her Cynewulf benam Sigebryhte his mæge his rices and Wæst-seaxna witan for unrihtum dædum butan Hamtunscire.” So Florence, “Cynewlfus, de prosapia Cerdici regis oriundus, auxilium sibi ferentibus West-Saxonicis primatibus, regem illorum Sigebertum, ob multitudinem suorum iniquorum factorum, regno exterminavit, et loco ejus regnavit; unam tamen provinciam, quæ Hantunscire dicitur, eidem concessit.” And even Æthelweard (ii. 17), who seems to tell the story with a certain royalist leaning against Cynewulf, witnesses to the same facts; “Post decursum unius anni ex quo Sigebryht regnare cœperat, cujus regnum invadens Cynulf abstraxit ab eo, et sapientes totius partis occidentalis facietenus traxit cum eo propter inconditos actus supradicti regis; nec illi derelicta pars potestatis nisi provincia una quæ Hamtunscire nuncupatur.” In this case, as in the case of Ealhred, we may remark the different colourings given to the same action. The deposition of Sigeberht was clearly a legal act, but it might be spoken of as an “invasio,” just as equally legal acts later in our history could be also spoken of as “invasiones.”

With regard to the separation of Mercia from the kingdom of Eadwig, spoken of by Mr. Kemble, the whole of Eadwig’s reign is shrouded in such darkness that, as it forms no part of my immediate subject, I have rather avoided going into it. But at any rate that separation would present one point of difference from any of the other cases. As Eadgar seems to have been Under-king of the Mercians from the death of Eadred, the act by which the Mercians threw off the authority of Eadwig was rather the rejection of the supremacy of an over-lord than the deposition of an immediate sovereign.

Of the other cases which I have mentioned in the text, those which come within the range of my History I have discussed in their proper places. Among the later cases, some may have expected to see the names of Henry the Sixth and Charles the First. But neither of these Kings were, in strictness of speech, deposed. By deposition I understand an act by which a King, whose right to be King is acknowledged up to that time, is, by virtue of such act, declared to be no longer King. This was not exactly the case with Henry the Sixth. When Richard Duke of York claimed the crown in preference to Henry, a compromise was made, by which Henry was to keep the crown for life and Richard was to become his heir-apparent. It was therefore the Yorkist theory that Henry reigned by virtue of this agreement, and that, when he afterwards, as was alleged, broke the agreement, the Crown was thereby forfeited and the Duke became de jure King. (See Growth of the English Constitution, p. 149.) Yet, as we have seen, a kind of popular election was thought needful to confirm the rights of his son. Charles the First, it is still more clear, was not deposed. He was tried and executed being King, a process of which English history supplies no other example. The depositions of Edward the Second and Richard the Second are too plain to need comment. James the Second was clearly deposed in Scotland; whether the vote against him in England could be strictly called a vote of deposition is less clear. On the character of this famous vote, logically so absurd, yet practically so thoroughly adapted to all the circumstances of the time, see Macaulay, Hist. of Eng. ii. 623. So on the vote of the Scottish Estates, iii. 285.

I have spoken in the text of that milder form of deposition by which the King was removed from his authority without being formally removed from his office. Of this process the simpler forms of our early constitution will hardly supply an instance, unless we see an approach to it in the engagement (see p. 368) entered into by Æthelred on his restoration to rule in all things by the advice of his Witan. But it was done in the cases of Henry the Third, Edward the Second, and Richard the Second; in the two latter cases the act was a kind of forewarning of the severer punishment which was to follow.

It must be remembered that throughout this argument I am dealing with the legal right of deposition, not with the justice of its exercise in any particular case. As to Sigeberht, and as to Ealhred too, both of them clearly deserved their fate, but how far in either case the West-Saxon and Northumbrian Witan may have been influenced by any personal intrigues of Cynewulf or Æthelred, who play in the two stories respectively the part of Henry of Bolingbroke or William of Orange, is not to the purpose. So too with the later fates of the deposed Kings, with the certain murder of Edward, the all but certain murder of Richard, the constitutional question has nothing to do. The deposed prince was let off the most easily in the earliest case. Sigeberht, deposed from the kingdom of Wessex, was allowed to retain Hampshire as Under-king. Having murdered one of his Ealdormen, he was banished altogether by Cynewulf, the new head King, and he was afterwards killed by a private enemy.

For instances of deposition among other Teutonic nations see Kemble, ii. 221. The most famous case of all, the deposition of Childeric and election of Pippin, was somewhat spoiled by the application to the Bishop of Rome about a matter which it clearly lay within the power of the Frankish nation to settle without his interference.

NOTE S. p. 107. THE ELECTION OF KINGS.

Some passages bearing on the election of Kings by the Witan, that is in truth by the people, have been already quoted (see above, p. 602). At every stage of my history I shall have to call attention to the way in which the right of free election was carried out in practice. But it is worth while to point out how long the old Teutonic feeling survived, and at how late a time it was still formally put forth as a constitutional principle. Nowhere can a better exposition of the ancient doctrine as to the election of Kings be found than in the speech which Matthew Paris (Chronica Majora, ii. 454, ed. Luard) puts into the mouth of Archbishop Hubert at the election of King John. Whether the speech is Hubert’s or Matthew’s matters little; or rather, if it be Matthew’s own, it is the more valuable, as carrying on the ancient tradition still later. No one has any right to be King unless he be chosen by the whole people of the land on account of his merits (“nullus prævia ratione alii succedere habet regnum, nisi ab universitate regni unanimiter, invocata Spiritus gratia, electus”), but if any member of the royal family be worthy, he is to be preferred to any one else (“verum si quis ex stirpe regis defuncti aliis præpolleret, pronius et promptius in electionem ejus est consentiendum”). The preamble is excellent, but the practical inference is strange, namely that Duke John, for his many virtues, should be chosen King. With this speech, made by, or attributed to, an English Archbishop, we may compare the similar doctrine of elective monarchy laid down by a French Archbishop, Adalbero of Rheims, at the election of Hugh Capet in 987; “Non ignoramus Karolum fautores suos habere, qui eum dignum regno ex parentum collatione contendant. Sed si de hoc agitur, nec regnum jure hæreditario adquiritur, nec in regnum promovendus est nisi quem non solum corporis nobilitas, sed et animi sapientia illustrat, fides munit, magnanimitas firmat. Legimus in annalibus, clarissimi generis Imperatoribus ignavia ab dignitate præcipitatis, alios modo pares, modo impares successisse.” (Richer, iv. 11.) So again the combination of the elective and hereditary principles, as found in all the old Teutonic kingdoms, is well set forth by Rudolf Glaber, i. 3; “Totius regni primates elegerunt Ludovicum, filium videlicet prædicti regis Caroli, unguentes eum super se regem hæreditario jure regnaturum.” We shall find as nearly as possible the same words in an important passage of our Chronicles (A. 1042).

NOTE T. p. 151. NAMES OF KINGDOMS AND NATIONS.

It should be carefully borne in mind that, throughout the times with which we are dealing, two systems of geographical nomenclature were in use, we might say in rival use. The ancient names, Roman or ante-Roman, still survived, as many of them survive still, as purely geographical descriptions, and the new names, the names of states and kingdoms named after their inhabitants, were still only in process of forming. I have said something of this in an earlier Note (see above, p. 596) with regard to the nomenclature of our own island; the nomenclature of continental countries we shall find to be still more confused. But the two classes of names can be clearly distinguished. Gallia and Britannia were doubtless in their origin names derived from a people, no less than Francia and Anglia; but, in the times with which we have to deal, Gallia and Britannia had become purely geographical terms, simply expressing a certain extent of territory on the map, while Francia and Anglia (if the latter name was used at all) were political names, expressing the territory occupied or ruled by Franci and Angli. The shifting of names of this latter class are frequent and well known. The modern kingdom of Saxony, for instance, has not an inch of ground in common with the Saxony which was conquered by Charles the Great, and the various meanings of the word Burgundy have become a proverb among the learned and a touchstone to bewray the half-learned. Another cause of confusion is that the ancient geographical names were constantly used, not only in their straightforward geographical sense, but also by way of fine writing, in which case they are constantly used affectedly, and often inaccurately. This is especially the case with Richer. Take for instance the opening of his second book, where he describes the political parties of his own day in the geographical language of Cæsar, “Galli namque Celtæ cum Aquitanis Hugonem Rotberti regis filium, Belgæ vero Ludovicum Karoli sequebantur.” Here we get a real distinction of race and language. The Celtæ and Aquitani are the nations of the Romance tongues, the forerunners of the future French and the future Provençal, while the Belgæ mark the still Teutonic part of the kingdom, whose inhabitants Richer elsewhere (i. 47) distinctly calls Germani. But none would guess this from the antiquated phraseology which he chooses. A still more remarkable instance of Richers way of misusing antiquated terms will be found in a passage which seems to have misled Sir Francis Palgrave. Sir Francis, describing the campaign of 944 (see p. 225) says (ii. 543), “Among other vassals or dependants ... Otho was joined by Conrad ‘King of Geneva,’ under which style we might have some difficulty in recognizing the King of Burgundy, yet the title is not undeserving of notice, as embodying the very few remaining recollections of a kingdom practically effaced from historical memory.” This I do not understand. As Sir Francis gives no references, I cannot undertake to deny that Conrad may be called “King of Geneva” somewhere, but he certainly is not so called in any of the most obvious authorities for this campaign. Widukind does not mention him at all. In Flodoard (A. 946) he is, as usual, “Cisalpinæ Galliæ rex.” In Richer (ii. 53) he is “Rex Genaunorum.” (Did Sir Francis read “Genevanorum”?) It is strange geography of Richer to place the Genauni in Burgundy, but we find again in ii. 98, “urbem Vesontium, quæ est metropolis Genaunorum, cui etiam in Alpibus sitæ Aldis Dubis præterfluit.” The ecclesiastical province of Besançon answers almost exactly to Transjurane Burgundy. In iii. 86 the same Conrad is, still more wonderfully, made into “Rex Alemannorum.” Richer, in short, despised the geography of his own age, and used his obsolete names without much discretion.

But this affectation extends to better writers than Richer. Lambert himself constantly uses the word Galliæ in a vague sort of way, or rather as equivalent to Germany. Thus, for instance, we hear of the church of Fulda as one of the chief churches of the Gauls “illius monasterii opes usque ad id temporis florentissimæ erant cunctisque Galliarum ecclesiis eminebant.” A 1063), while Mainz (A. 1074) is “caput et princeps Gallicarum urbium.” And the word is used in the same sense in several other passages under those two years. So, as I have implied in discussing Richer’s description of Conrad, the name “Gallia Cisalpina,” as used by Flodoard, always, I cannot conceive why, means the kingdom of Burgundy or some part of it (see A. 924, 937, 939, 946). Of these the third is the passage referred to in p. 203. M. Gaudet in his note on Richer takes the “Hugo Cisalpinus” there spoken of for Hugh the Black, one of the Princes of the ducal Burgundy who is mentioned by Flodoard the next year. But there can be no doubt that the person meant is Hugh of Provence, the famous King of Italy.

But the great source, not so much of confusion as of vague and strange descriptions or rather indications of kingdoms and states, arises from the fact that none of the states formed by the division of the Carolingian Empire, none at least of those north of the Alps, had as yet won for itself a geographical name. There were old national names in abundance, Saxony, Bavaria, Aquitaine, Britanny, but there were no general names to express the kingdoms of Charles, Lothar, and Lewis, respectively. Each King was a King of the Franks; he reigned over so much of the old Frankish dominion as he could get hold of; he had no distinct and recognized national or territorial title; he and his kingdom had to be described, or rather pointed out, as they might be. We nowhere see this better than in the way in which our own Chronicles under the year 887 record the division of the Empire after the deposition of Charles the Third. The four kingdoms are clearly marked out, but not one of the four has a territorial name; the three which lie north of the Alps are simply pointed to geographically; “Earnulf wunode on þam lande be æstan Rine; and Hroðulf þa feng to þam middel rice, and Oda to þam west dæle, and Beorngar and Wiða to Langbeardna lande.” This is at least clearer than the description given by Erchempert (Hist. Langobardorum, 11; Pertz, iii. 245) of the earlier division between the sons of Lewis the Pious; “Ab hoc Francorum divisum est regnum, quoniam Lutharius Aquensem et Italicum, Ludoguicus [this form, with the gu for the w, is worth noting philologically] autem Baioarium, Karlus vero, ex alia ortus genitrice, Aquitaneum regebat imperium.” Here, in the hopelessness of finding a name for Lothar’s kingdom, we find an unique “regnum” or “imperium Aquense,” while Saxony and the rest of Germany are merged in Bavaria, and Neustria is merged in Aquitaine. Another way of distinguishing kingdoms and their inhabitants was to describe them by the names of their rulers, as in the passage of Widukind (i. 29) quoted in p. 155; “Unde usque hodie certamen est de regno Karolorum stirpi et posteris Odonis, concertatio quoque regibus Karolorum et Orientalium Francorum super regno Lotharii.” Here “regnum Lotharii” is of course Lotharingia, Lothringen, Lorraine, though it must be remembered that the name takes in a far wider territory than the modern duchy. So Gregory the Seventh (Jaffé, Mon. Greg. 465) speaks of “regnum Lotharii” and Bonitho (ib. 631) of “Lothariorum regnum.” And in the continuation of Regino (Pertz, i. 618) “Lothariensi regnum” is opposed to Gallia Romana. But it should also be noticed that the Western Kingdom also has no name; its Kings are “reges Karolorum;” it was quite a chance that France was not permanently called Carolingia to match Lotharingia. So in Widukind (iii. 2) the Western kingdom is “regnum Karoli,” though in the reign of a Lewis; so, still more distinctly, in the Gesta Episcoporum Cameracensium (i. 55, iii. 50; Pertz, vii. 421, 481) the inhabitants of France and Lotharingia are distinguished as “Karlenses” and “Lotharienses.” So in the same work (i. 116; Pertz, vii. 452) “Robertus rex Karlensium” is coupled with “Richardus rex Rotomagensium.” And strangest of all, in the Chronicle of the Counts of Flanders (Corp. Chron. Fland. i. 86) the Emperor Henry the Third is spoken of as “Rex Lothariensis, qui et Cæsar Imperator Augustus appellatus est.” (So in our own Chronicle, 1126, “þone kasere Heanri of Loherenge;” in the next year we hear of “ðes Caseres wif of Sexlande.”) This way of describing countries by their rulers is very common just at this time, when divisions were springing up for which there were no received geographical names. Thus Germany is sometimes “Terra Heinrici” (Flodoard, 933); Flanders and Normandy are, in our own Chronicles, “Baldwines land” and “Ricardes rice.” But Lotharingia, perhaps as the name of the most purely artificial division of all, is the only name of the class which has survived.

This same passage leads us to the way which (except in the case of Lotharingia, a kingdom which almost always bore the name of its founder) became more usual, that of distinguishing the kingdoms and their inhabitants by some distinctive epithet of race or language, or by some word which simply points to them geographically. The difficulty, as I have already hinted, arises from the still abiding notion of the existence of a single Frankish kingdom, however many might be the Kings among whom its administration was divided. None of the Kings, nor yet the subjects of any of the Kings, would give up their right to be at least one of the Kings of the Franks, to be at least part of the people of the Franks. While such a state of feeling was rife, it was impossible that any King or kingdom should bear any title distinctly and permanently recognized. A King most commonly describes himself simply as “Rex;” any more particular description might have been construed either as a surrender of his own rights or as an infringement of the rights of some other prince. Thus it has often been remarked that in the act of election (see Pertz, Legg. i. 547, cf. the election of Lewis at p. 558) by which Boso was raised to the kingship of Burgundy—the “middel rice” of our Chronicles—he is simply made King without any particular title, and without any particular geographical extent being traced out for his kingdom. It was not so while the Frankish dominions remained undivided. In the days of the early Karlings, the King had a title and his dominions had a name. His dominions were Francia; he himself was the Rex Francorum. In Einhard, Francia means the whole territory occupied or ruled by the Franks and their King. This comes out very strongly in the Life of Charles, c. 2; “Pater ejus [Pippini] Karolus, qui tyrannos per totam Franciam dominatum sibi vindicantes oppressit, et Sarracenos Galliam occupare tentantes duobus magnis prœliis, uno in Aquitania apud Pictavium civitatem, altero juxta Narbonam apud Birram fluvium devicit.” Here, with the strictest precision, Gallia is a part of Francia and Aquitania is a part of Gallia. And this will be found to be the common use throughout the Life and Annals. So the Monk of Saint Gallen (Gesta Karoli, i. 10; Pertz, ii. 735) defines Francia in the widest sense to take in “omnes Cis-alpinas provincias.” But the name Francia gradually came to be confined to two portions of the original Francia, one on each side of the Rhine, those where the name still survives alike in France and in Franken or Franconia. These two had therefore to be distinguished by various epithets. Thus we find “Francia Teutonica” opposed to “Francia Latina” and “Francia Orientalis” opposed to “Francia Occidentalis.” Sometimes “Francia” and “Gallia” are opposed, as in Ann. Xant. 877 (Pertz, ii. 234), and the use is not uncommon in the Annals of Fulda, as 880 (i. 393). See too specially Bruno, Bell. Sax. 36 (Pertz, v. 342), and Liudprand (Antapodosis, i. 14, 16), who talks of “Franciam quam Romanam dicunt,” and elsewhere (iii. 20) of “Francorum genus Teutonicorum.” See also Widukind, i. 16, 29; Wipo, Vit. Chuon. 1, 6, 27, and especially c. 2, where he describes the Rhine as the frontier of “Gallia” and “Germania,” and reckons up the nations in both countries which formed the kingdom of Conrad, among which are “Franci Orientales,” and “Franci qui supra Rhenum habitant,” an unusual distinction. See also Otto of Freising, Gest. Frid. i. 34, where he speaks of “Orientalis Francia,” and Ann. vii. 5, where he distinguishes “Franci Romani et Teutonici.” In the Annals of Saint Vedast, 887 (Pertz, ii. 203), we find “Franci Australes” and “inferiores;” but in those Annals “Franci” and “Francia” commonly mean the Western kingdom. The word is sometimes used in this sense in the phrases “rex Franciæ” and “regnum Franciæ” (see above, p. 595, and Dudo, 97 D). But Francia, as used by writers within the Western kingdom, commonly means the Parisian duchy, and it is only through the successive conquests of the Parisian Kings that the word France has gained that modern meaning which now takes in the old Western kingdom and something more. The ordinary meaning of the word Francia in Flodoard and Richer is plain from such passages as Flodoard, A. 923, 926. It means the dominion of the “Dux Francorum,” whether he be “Rex Francorum” as well or not. In the latter passage, we find a Danegeld levied “per Franciam et Burgundiam,” where Burgundia does not mean the kingdom of Boso, but the duchy which did homage to the West-Frankish King. So in the Vita Hludowici, 49, we find “Francia, Burgundia, Aquitania, et Germania.” Francia, in short, as used by these writers, excludes Lotharingia and all the Burgundies; it excludes Aquitaine, Normandy, and Britanny; and it has further to be distinguished as “Latina” or “Occidentalis” from the other Francia east of the Rhine.

In the like sort, we read in the Chronica Regum Francorum, ap. Pertz, iii. 214; “Hic [at the deposition of Charles the Third] divisio facta est inter Teutones Francos et Latinos Francos.” But it is remarkable to trace how early, especially within the Western Francia, the word Franci began to mean the Western as opposed to the Eastern Franks. Thus the Astronomer (ap. Pertz, ii. 617) speaks of Lewis the Pious as “monitus tam a Francis quamque a Germanis,” and again (p. 633), “diffidens Francis, magisque se credens Germanis.” So Liudprand (Antapod. i. 14, 17) uses “Rex Galliæ” and “Rex Francorum” as synonymous. And the word seems to be used in the same sense by Nithard, i. 5, ii. 3, in the former of which passages Francia seems to be opposed to “universi qui trans Renum morabantur.” So Wipo (31) distinguishes the Western kingdom as “Galliæ Francorum,” and Lambert (1073), unlike Bruno, allows the title of “Rex Francorum” to the Western potentate. Still in Germany Franci kept its natural meaning down to the days of Frederick Barbarossa. “Sic emitur a Francis Imperium,” says Otto of Freising (Gest. Frid. ii. 22). Yet elsewhere (i. 58) he speaks of “Rex Francorum” and “Rex Franciæ” in the other sense. So William of Malmesbury (i. 68), in a passage the whole of which is worth study, says, “Lotharingi et Alemanni, et cæteri Transrhenani populi qui Imperatori Teutonicorum subjecti sunt, magis proprie se Francos appellari jubent; et eos quos nos Francos putamus, Galwalas antiquo vocabulo [did William know the force of the walas?] quasi Gallos nuncupant. Quibus et ego assensum commodo,” &c. Elsewhere (iv. 360) he says, “Romanum Imperium prius ad Francos, post ad Teutones, declinavit;” he yet more strangely adds, “orientale apud Persas semper durat.”

In other cases the words Franci or Francia are altogether left out. “Occidentales” alone is used as equivalent to West-Frankish or French, and “Orientales” is used as equivalent to German. Perhaps the most remarkable case of this use is to be found in the treaty between Charles the Simple and Henry of Saxony in 921 (Pertz, Legg. i. 567). Here the two Kings of the Franks are geographically distinguished, as “Gloriosissimus rex Francorum Occidentalium, Karolus” and “Magnificentissimus rex Francorum Orientalium Heinricus.” But in the text of the treaty, where Charles speaks in his own person, he says, “Ego Karolus, divina propitiante clementia, rex Francorum Occidentalium, amodo ero huic amico meo regi Orientali Heinrico amicus.” We find the same use in Dudo, 130 B, and in a very remarkable passage of Richer (iv. 12, 13), where he gives two descriptions of the extent of the Western kingdom in the tenth century. Hugh Capet is made King over “Galli, Britanni, Dahi [doubtless Dani, i.e. the Normans], Aquitani, Gothi, Hispani [the county of Barcelona], Wascones.” He then associates his son Robert in the kingdom—“a Mosa fluvio usque Oceanum Occidentalibus regem præfecit et ordinavit.” So in the extract from Thietmar in p. 175, “Occiduæ partes” is the German writer’s description of the kingdom of Charles the Simple. In other passages a King is simply, as it were, pointed at. In Flodoard, 938, Otto is “Rex Transrhenensis,” in Richer, i. 20, his father is simply “Heinricus Transrhenensis,” and in Dudo, 130 B, where the Germans are still “Orientales,” their King is still “Rex Transrhenanus.” So “Rex Orientalis” is opposed to “Rex Galliæ,” Ann. Xant. 873 (Pertz, ii. 235). More curious still is the description of no less a person than Hugh the Great in Flodoard, A. 960; “Richardus, filius Willelmi Nortmannorum principis, filiam Hugonis trans Sequanam [or ‘Transsequani’] quondam principis, duxit uxorem.” So in 946 our Eadmund is “Edmundus rex transmarinus.” See above, p. 565. This way of describing suggests some of those curious mediæval verbs, “transfretare,” “transpadare,” and the like.

Germany in fact was longer than any of the other countries of which we have been speaking in getting a true territorial name for itself, and a true territorial title for its sovereign. We have seen several instances of the use of Germania; but then Germania, like Gallia, is a purely geographical name, and the Eastern kingdom took in a large part of Gallia. The kingdom itself is commonly “Regnum Teutonicum” (Lambert, 1073), a phrase which is the more remarkable when we find it coupled with the geographical name Italia, as in Gregory’s anathema in Muratori, iii. 336. Lewis the son of Lewis the Pious is repeatedly called “Rex Germanorum” by Prudentius of Troyes (Pertz, i. 441, 443), and “Rex Germaniæ” by Hincmar (Pertz, i. 458). So Henry is “Germaniæ princeps” in Flodoard, 928. But these are mere descriptions, and no such formal title seems to be found earlier than the days of Maximilian. Indeed the German kingdom was so soon swallowed up by the Roman Empire that a distinct title for its King was hardly needed. The kingdom of Boso, on the other hand, though he and his electors shrank from giving it a name, soon found one in common use. Liudprand (Ant. ii. 60) tells how “Rodulfus rex superbissimus Burgundionibus imperabat,” and Wipo speaks familiarly (15, 19) of “Rex Burgundiæ” and “Burgundionum.” Flodoard, however, besides his favourite flourish about Cisalpine Gaul, tells us of “Rex Jurensis” under the years 935 and 940.

Lastly, the Norman duchy, as I have once or twice implied in the text, was also slow in gaining for itself any distinct territorial name. There is no trace of any such name in Flodoard or in Richer. In Dudo’s time the country is beginning, but only beginning to have a name; it is sometimes “Northmannia,” sometimes only “Terra Northmannorum,” “Northmannica regio,” and the like. In the next century the people have become “Normanni,” and their land has become “Normannia,” “Normendie.” “Northmannia,” with Einhard, meant Denmark. In Adam of Bremen “Nortmannia” means distinctively Norway, though he also uses the word “Norvegia.” With him “Nortmanni” always means Norwegians, except in ii. 52, where Richard is described as “Comes Nortmannorum” and his duchy as “Nortmannia.” It is perhaps needless to add that in our own Northumbrian geography the local names Normanton and Normanby point to Northmen, not to Normans, just as the word “Norþmen” is used in our own Chronicles in describing the Commendation of 923.

NOTE V. p. 158. NOTICES OF LANGUAGE IN THE TENTH CENTURY.

The notices of language which we come across in our authors are often highly curious. The Romance languages are now just beginning to be felt to be really languages, and not mere vulgar dialects of Latin. We get perhaps our first glimpse of this feeling in Nithard’s description (iii. 5) of the famous oath of Strassburg in 842. The two languages, the parents of modern High-Dutch and modern French, are distinguished as “lingua Teudisca” and “lingua Romana.” Charles the Bald himself spoke Lingua Romana; Pertz, Legg. i. 472. “Romana,” Romance, is the usual description of the new language, as distinguished from the classical “Latina,” though we have seen (see p. 182) at least one instance where “Latinus sermo” means the popular Romance. In the course of the next century the language became nationalized, and in Richer (iv. 100) it appears as “lingua Gallica,” which becomes its usual later name. I leave to professed philologers to fix the exact relation of the “lingua Romana” of Nithard to French and to Provençal respectively. For my purpose it is enough that it is Romance, as distinguished both from Latin and from Teutonic.

We also in the course of the narratives of Flodoard and Richer come across several curious passages where the Romance and Teutonic languages are opposed to each other. Thus Charles the Simple has a conference at Worms with Henry of Saxony (“Heinricus Transrhenensis”), when (Richer, i. 20) “Germanorum Gallorumque juvenes, linguarum idiomate offensi, ut eorum mos est, cum multa animositate maledictis sese lacessire cœperunt.” In 948 Lewis and Otto attend a synod, where letters are read in Latin, and are translated “propter reges juxta Teutiscam linguam.” (Flod. in an.; Pertz, iii. 396.) Lewis therefore spoke German no less than Otto. Otto however (see Widukind, ii. 36) could speak French on occasion (“Romana lingua Slavanicaque loqui scit”), which makes the employment of German still more important. In 981 Hugh Capet and Otto the Second met. Otto spoke Latin, and a Bishop translated his speech to Hugh. (Richer, iii. 85.) Hugh therefore did not understand German, and the Romance which he spoke had departed so far from Latin that Latin needed an interpreter. In 996 certain Gaulish and German Bishops meet (Richer, iv. 100), and the Bishop of Verdun is chosen to speak “eo quod linguam Gallicam norat.” The Lotharingian prelate could doubtless speak both languages. These passages seem enough to make out the view which I have everywhere maintained, that throughout the tenth century the Carolingian Kings at Laon were a strictly German dynasty, speaking German as their mother-tongue, while the Dukes and Kings of Paris were already French.

Sir Francis Palgrave’s assertion (i. 72) that “the German Ritterschaft of Otho the Great raised the war-cry in French” is an evident misconception of the passage in Widukind (ii. 17) on which it seems to be grounded. The historian is clearly speaking of the Lotharingian borderers who spoke both languages. His words are simply, “Ex nostris etiam fuere, qui Gallica lingua ex parte loqui sciebant, qui clamore in altum Gallice levato, exhortati sunt adversarios ad fugam.”

Of the speed with which French displaced Danish as the language of Normandy, I have said something in p. 181. For the retention of the ancient speech at Bayeux, after it had been forgotten at Rouen, our chief authority is Dudo, 112 D; “Quoniam quidem Rotomagensis civitas Romana potius quam Dacisca utitur eloquentia, et Baiocacensis fruitur frequentius Dacisca lingua quam Romana; volo igitur ut ad Baiocacensia deferatur quantocius mœnia, et ibi volo ut sit, Botho, sub tua custodia, et enutriatur et educetur cum magna diligentia, fervens loquacitate Dacisca, tamque discens tenaci memoria, ut queat sermocinari profusius olim contra Dacigenas.” (“Contra sermocinari,” in Dudo’s language, is simply to converse with.) So Benoît, 11520;

“Si à Roem le faz garder E norir, gaires longement Il ne saura parlier neient Daneis, kar nul l’i parole. Si voil qu’il seit a tele escole Ou l’en le sache endoctriner Que as Daneis sache parler. Ci ne sevent riens fors romanz; Mais à Baiues en a tanz Qui ne sevent si Daneis non: E pur ceo, sire quens Boton, Voil que vos l’aiez ensemble od vos.”

Wace (Roman de Rou, 2502) says only

“Richart sout en Daneiz, en Normant parler.”

Here “Normant” can mean nothing but French, but it is less clear what he means by it in v. 2377, where we read,

“Cosne sout en Thioiz et en Normant parler.”

Wace probably meant French, but he seems to have misunderstood a passage of Dudo (99, 100) which contains a curious notice of the use of the Danish language, the force of which Dudo himself seems hardly to have understood. William is at a conference with Henry of Germany (really with Otto). Certain Lotharingians and Saxons talk to their own chief Cono; William, by his knowledge of Danish, understands them (“per Daciscam linguam quæ dicebant subsannantes, intelligendo subaudit”). The Saxon Duke Hermann afterwards speaks to William in Danish, and being asked how the Saxons came to understand that language, explains the fact by the constant incursions of the Northmen. Duke Hermann might very well understand Danish, and might speak Danish to William; but the Saxons and Lotharingians would not speak Danish to Cono. What the story seems to point to is that the Low-Dutch of Saxony and Lower Lorraine was so far intelligible to one who understood Danish that he could guess at the general meaning of what was said.

But the most remarkable notice of language at all is to be found in the Tours Chronicle in Duchesne, Rer. Franc. Scriptt. iii. 360, which records the homage of Rolf to Charles (see p. 168), and the traditional origin of the name Bigot as applied to the Normans. When Rolf is called on to kiss the King’s feet, “lingua Anglica respondit, Ne se bigoth, quod interpretatur, non per Deum, rex vero et sui illum deridentes, et sermonem ejus corrupte referentes, illum vocaverunt Bigoth. Unde Normanni adhuc Bigothi dicuntur” (see Wace, 9907, et seqq.). Here we read that this famous refusal of Rolf to abase himself was made in a language which by Frankish hearers was looked upon as English. That Rolf spoke English in any strict sense is most unlikely; the tongue in which he answered was doubtless his native Danish. Nor is it enough to say, with Sir F. Palgrave (i. 700), that any Teutonic speech was loosely called English by the French; for Rolf was speaking in the presence of a prince whose native speech was undoubtedly Teutonic. But Charles the Frank spoke High-Dutch; Rolf the Dane spoke a language which, in a wide sense of the words, might be called Low-Dutch. England was the most famous and most familiar country of the Low-Dutch speech, and the Scandinavian talk of Rolf was by his Frankish hearers accordingly set down as English.

NOTE W. pp. 168, 222. THE VASSALAGE OF NORMANDY.

That Rolf became in the strictest sense the “man” of King Charles, I have no doubt whatever. Against plain facts and probabilities we have nothing to set except the shirkings and twistings of Dudo’s rhetoric. Thus he tells us (83 D); “Dedit itaque [Karolus] filiam suam Gislam nomine uxorem illi Duci, terramque determinatam in alodo, et in fundo, a flumine Eptæ usque ad mare, totamque Britanniam, de qua posset vivere.” And again (84 A); “Ceterum Karolus rex, duxque Rotbertus, comitesque et proceres, præsules et abbates, juraverunt sacramento Catholicæ fidei patricio Rolloni vitam suam, et membra, et honorem totius regni, insuper terram denominatam,” &c. See Palgrave, ii. 361. And he is rather fond of speaking of Normandy as a kingdom or a monarchy; “Tenet sicuti rex monarchiam Northmannicæ regionis;” “Regnum Northmannicæ Britonicæque regionis.” (110 D; 128 B, C; 136 C.) Still the homage of Rolf is perfectly plain, and so is the homage of his son William Longsword. (See pp. 168, 196.) The testimony of Flodoard (927, cf. 933) is express; “Se filius Rollonis Karolo committit.” But whether Richard the Fearless ever did homage to Lewis or Lothar is not so clear. Richard may be included among the “cæteri regni primores” who (see p. 221) did homage to Lewis in 946. Dudo however (126 C) seems very anxious to except him; “Venit rex supra fluvium Eptæ contra Northmannos, cum magno duce Hugone.... Propriis verbis fecit securitatem regni quod suus avus Rollo vi ac potestate, armis et præliis sibi acquisivit. Ipseque et omnes episcopi, comites, et abbates reverendi, principesque Franciæ regni Richardo puero innocenti, ut teneat et possideat, et nullis nisi Deo servitium ipse et successio ejus reddat, et si quis perversæ invasionis rixatione contra eum congredi, vel alicujus rixationis congressione invadere regnum, maluerit, fidissimus adjutor in omni adversæ inopportunitatis necessitate per omnia exstiterit.” As for any homage to Lothar (see p. 232), I suspect that no such homage was ever rendered. The French writers do not mention it, though they would doubtless have been glad to mention it if it had happened. And Flodoard’s way of speaking of Richard is remarkable. William was “the Prince of the Normans;” Richard is only “the son of William Prince of the Normans” (“filius Willelmi Northmannorum principis;” see p. 232, note 3). But I have no doubt that the homage was lawfully due, and it was most likely its refusal which led to the differences between Lothar and Richard. On the other hand, the Commendation of Richard to Hugh the Great (see p. 222) seems to be quite authentic, and it is clear that it was renewed to Hugh’s son. This appears from a charter, which I am obliged to quote at secondhand from Lappenberg, Norman Kings, p. 30. Richard there uses the words, “cum assensu senioris mei, Hugonis, Francorum principis.” The date is 968; the lord therefore is Hugh Capet.

With regard to this matter a remarkable passage of Sir Francis Palgrave (ii. 494–5) must be quoted and commented on. His words are, “A perfect reciprocity was established between France and the ‘Norman Monarchy,’ ... That Dominion which Rollo the Grandsire had won by so many battles, Richard shall henceforward have and hold, owing service to none but God.... Should any enemy attempt to disturb the right of the Norman Sovereign, the King of France shall be his help and aid in all things.... No other service shall Normandy render unless the King should grant the Duke some Benefice within the Kingdom of France. Therefore, as it was explained in after-time, the Duke of Normandy doth no more than promise faith and homage to the King of France. In like manner doth the King of France render the same fealty to the Duke of Normandy; nor is there any other difference between them, save that the King of France doth not render homage to the Duke of Normandy like as the Duke of Normandy doth to the King.”

If I rightly understand Sir Francis Palgrave, his meaning is that the Duke of the Normans ceased from that time to be the man of the King of the French; that he merely entered into a treaty on equal terms with his former lord; that by voluntary commendation he became the man of the Duke of the French; that the later vassalage of Normandy to France was due, not to the kingdom of France but to the duchy, that it had its beginning in the homage done by Richard the Fearless to Duke Hugh, not in the homage done by Rolf to King Charles. I say, if I rightly understand Sir Francis, because I cannot quite reconcile his statements with one another. In one page there “is perfect reciprocity established between France and the Norman monarchy.” Richard has and holds his dominion, owing service to none but God,—yet directly afterwards it is allowed that “the Duke of Normandy promises fealty and homage to the King of France.” It is dangerous to dispute with Sir Francis Palgrave on a question of feudal law, and the more so, as the relations between Normandy and France at once awaken the whole controversy about “liege” and “simple” homage. But surely, even in a case of simple homage, there is not “perfect reciprocity” between him who pays and him who receives the homage; and certainly, in the tale as I read it, I see nothing but the simple relation of lord and man, only clouded over by the big words of Dudo. And as for reciprocity, surely reciprocity of a certain kind was the essence of the feudal relation. Lord and vassal were each to help and defend the other. No one denies that Henry the Second was the vassal of King Lewis the Seventh, if not for Normandy, at any rate for his other continental possessions, but an equal obligation is imposed, in their mutual oath, on Lewis to defend Henry “sicut fidelem suum” and on Henry to defend Lewis “dominum suum.” See Roger of Wendover, ii. 388.

The notion of the independence of Normandy on France comes out very strongly in the speech which Henry of Huntingdon puts into the mouth of William the Conqueror before the Battle of Senlac (M. H. B. 762 D). A much later instance will be found in William of Worcester’s Collections (Stevenson’s Wars in France, ii. 522), when the relations between Normandy and France had again begun to interest Englishmen. We there read of “Normandy, which ducdom, as yt ys sayde by auncyent wrytyng, holdeth of noone higher souverayn in chief but of God.”

The exact relations between Richard the Fearless and the two—if any one cares to reckon the last Lewis, the three—last Karlings I must be content to leave doubtful. When the Duke of the French—the undoubted over-lord of Normandy—became also King of the French the question ceased to be a practical one. As I have said in p. 246, the French King was the lord of the Norman Duke in some character, whether in that of Duke or of King it mattered little. The question was not likely to be stirred again till that change in the relations and mutual feelings between France and Normandy which marked the days of King Henry and Duke William.

NOTE X. p. 180. DANISH MARRIAGES.

The “mos Danicus” with regard to marriage or concubinage, or rather with regard to some third state between marriage and concubinage, is often mentioned in the Norman history of the time. And, though I do not remember the exact words being used in England, yet something of the same kind seems to have existed there also. The ease with which Earl Uhtred (see p. 329) parts with two successive wives, the relations between Cnut and his two Ælfgifus (see p. 411), perhaps the relation between Harold the son of Godwine and the East-Anglian Eadgyth Swanneshals (see vol. iii. Appendix NN), all seem to point to a practice of the same kind. Indeed we shall find (see below, Note SS) that it is by no means clear whether the first wife of Æthelred, the mother of his heroic son, was not in the same way cast aside to make room for the Norman Lady. Instances of the same sort might indeed be found very much later in German, in French, and in English history, and we find a relation essentially the same as far as we can go back in the history of the Aryan race. The “mos Danicus” might just as well be called “mos Achaicus;” the relation between Rolf and Popa at once reminds one of the relation of Briseis to Achilleus, or of Andromachê to Neoptolemos. Briseis is a captive; but she receives the honourable appellation of ἄλοχος (II. ix. 336, 340); she has hopes of becoming even κουριδίη ἄλοχος (II. xix. 298). Still Achilleus’ relation to her in no way hinders him from taking another wife (II. ix. 394), any more than it hinders Diomêdê (ib. 661) from taking her place during her constrained absence. In just the same way, Popa is put away to make room for King Charles’s daughter; but afterwards we read (Will. Gem. ii. 22), “Repudiatam Popam ... iterum repetens sibi copulavit.” (See more in detail, Benoît, v. 7954, and Roman de Rou, 2037.) The “mos Danicus” is opposed to the “mos Christianus.” The tardy bridal of Richard and Gunnor (see p. 253) was done Christian fashion; “Virginem [viraginem?] ... sibi in matrimonium Christiano more desponsavit.” So says William of Jumièges (iv. 18), and he even thinks it necessary to guarantee (v. 5) that the marriage of Alan of Britanny and Hadwisa the daughter of Richard the Good was celebrated “Christiano more.” The expressions used with regard to Sprota herself are many and various. She is in Dudo, 97 A, “conjux dilectissima;” in 110 D, “matrona venerabilis,” a description which, I need hardly say, proves nothing as to her age. In Flodoard, A. 943, her son is “natus de concubina Britanna.” King Lewis, if we may believe William of Jumièges (iv. 3), went a step further, and called young Richard “meretricis filium ultro virum alienum rapientis.” This is mere Billingsgate, as Richard was certainly born before William’s marriage with Liudgardis, though from the Roman de Rou (v. 2073, 2251) one might be led to think otherwise. Elsewhere (iii. 2), in announcing the birth of Richard, William calls her “nobilissima puella, Danico more sibi [William Longsword] juncta, nomine Sprota.” And so Benoît, 8872;

“Icele ama mult e tint chere; Mais à la Danesche manere La vout aveir, non autrement, Ce dit l’estorie qui ne ment.”

The last line is most likely meant as a compliment to William of Jumièges.

The essence of this kind of connexion seems to be that the woman is the man’s wife but that the man is not the woman’s husband. He can evidently leave her at pleasure, but there is no recorded instance of her leaving him. This difference may however be simply the result of the difference of rank between the parties in all the cases with which we have to deal. The wife or mistress of a prince is obviously less likely to forsake him than he is to forsake her. And from a modern Scandinavian writer I gather that Scandinavian manners, at a somewhat later time, allowed of a connexion of nearly the same kind, but one which put the sexes more on a level.

“The term fylgikona (literally companion-woman), which frequently occurs in the Sagas, must have originally meant the same as frilla. Later on, in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, it received a more honourable import, as it was applied to a free woman living with a man in connubial intercourse according to the terms of a formal contract, but without the observance of the usual wedding ceremonies, and especially without consecration by the Church. Connexions of this kind seem to have been rather common, especially in Iceland, and dated from the time when the Church began to lay greater hindrances in the way of obtaining a divorce than had formerly been the case. This connexion would be dissolved at the wish of either of the parties, or in accordance with the terms which had been previously agreed upon, without the intervention of the Church, a result which was not in accordance with Christian views, and could not be applied to marriages proper.... The fylgikona frequently occupied the position of house-wife.” Keyser’s Private Life of the Old Northmen, pp. 35, 36.

As for earlier Frankish laxity, among many strange examples I choose the strangest. “Luxuriæ supra modum deditus [Dagobertus] tres habebat ad instar Salomonis reginas, maxime et plurimas concubinas. Reginæ vero hæ erant, Nantechildis, Wlfegundis, et Berchildis. Nomina concubinarum, eo quod plures fuissent, increvit huic chronicæ inseri.” Fredegar, c. 60.

NOTE Y. p. 197. THE ELECTION OF LEWIS.

We have two main accounts of the election of Lewis. Flodoard (A. 936) tells the tale very briefly; Richer (ii. 1–4), as usual, is much fuller. But the longer version only expands, and in no way contradicts, the shorter one. The main points, that Hugh the Great was the chief mover in the business and that application had to be made to King Æthelstan in England, come out equally in both accounts. Flodoard tells us, in his dry annalistic way, “Hugo comes trans mare mittit pro accersiendo ad apicem regni suscipiendum Ludowico Karoli filio, quem rex Alstanus avunculus ipsius, accepto prius jurejurando a Francorum legatis, in Franciam cum quibusdam episcopis et aliis fidelibus suis dirigit.” We may here note how completely the words “trans mare” had got to mean England and nothing else, and also that Francia seems to be used in a wider sense than usual (see above, p. 614), though not necessarily in a sense taking in the whole of the Western kingdom. Lewis is met at Boulogne by Hugh and the other princes (“cæteri Francorum proceres”), who do homage to him on the sea-shore (“in ipsis litoreis arenis apud Bononiam sese committunt, ut erat utrimque depactum”). He then goes to Laon, and is crowned. Richer (ii. 1) first gives us that geographical distribution of parties which I have mentioned in the text, and of which I have also spoken in an earlier Note (see above, p. 609). He distinctly mentions Hugh’s unwillingness to assume the crown; “Quum Hugo patrem ob insolentiam periisse reminiscebatur, et ob hoc regnare formidaret” (cf. c. 73, where King Lewis says the same), and adds that, through the absence of Lewis and the unwillingness of Hugh, the choice of a King at least seemed freer than usual (“Galli itaque in regis promotione liberiores videri laborantes”). They meet under the presidency of Duke Hugh (“sub Hugone duce deliberaturi de rege creando collecti sunt”). The Duke makes a speech, which we may safely set down as the composition of the historian. Hugh, we cannot doubt, really had a superstitious feeling against taking the title of King, but he is not likely to have made the strong legitimist harangue which is put into his mouth by Richer. He deplores the sin of his father in reigning, even though he had been chosen to reign by the common voice of the nation; “Pater meus vestra quondam omnium voluntate rex creatus, non sine magno regnavit facinore, quum is cui soli jura regnandi debebantur viveret, et vivens carcere clauderetur. Quod credite Deo non acceptum fuisse. Unde et absit ut ego patris loco restituar.” He then goes on to speak of the reign of Rudolf as teaching the same lesson (“quum ejus tempore visum sit, quid nunc innasci possit, contemptus videlicet regis ac per hoc principum dissensus”). He therefore counsels a return to the lawful royal stock (“repetatur ergo interrupta paullulum regiæ generationis linea”). The rest agree, and the embassy is sent to England in the name of the Duke and the other princes (“Ducis benevolentia atque omnium qui in Galliis potiores sunt”).

The real importance of this speech, like that of many other speeches, consists in its setting forth the feelings of Richer, not the feelings of Duke Hugh. It points to a strong royalist tone as prevailing at Rheims when this part of Richer’s history was written, and it is curious to contrast his language now with the language which he uses after the revolution of 987. See p. 240.

William of Normandy is not mentioned in either of these accounts. Dudo (97 D) has quite another story, in which, as I hinted in the text, the first step is taken by Æthelstan, who prays Duke William to restore his nephew. “Audiens autem Alstemus, rex Anglorum pacificus, quod præcellebat Willelmus virtute et potentia Franciscæ nationis omnibus, misit ad eum legatos suos cum donis præmaximis et muneribus, deprecans ut Ludovicum nepotem suum, Karoli capti regis morte jam in captione præoccupati filium, revocaret ad Franciæ regnum,” &c., &c.

It is in recording this election of Lewis that Rudolf Glaber (i. 3) uses those expressions, so well setting forth the union of election and hereditary right, which I have quoted elsewhere (see above, p. 609). He does not mention Hugh at all, though he had just before enlarged on his share in the election of Rudolf.

NOTE Z. p. 205. THE DEATH OF WILLIAM LONGSWORD.

Our accounts of the circumstances which led to the death of William Longsword differ widely from each other. Flodoard (943) simply tells us that Arnulf invited him to a conference, and there caused him to be put to death. “Arnulfus comes Willelmum Nortmannorum principem ad colloquium evocatum dolo perimi fecit.” Thus much we may accept as certain; but the oldest French and Norman versions of the events immediately going before are remarkably unlike, and in later writers we find quite another version of the whole affair.

Richer (ii. 30 et seqq.) connects the murder of William with an insult offered by him to King Otto in the Council held by Otto and Lewis at Attigny. William, whether by accident or by design, was not admitted at the beginning of the meeting. After waiting for some time, he forced his way in in great wrath, and his indignation was further heightened at what he then saw. The two Kings were sitting on a raised couch, the Eastern King, the truer successor of Charles, taking the seat of honour. Below them, on two chairs, sat Hugh the Great and Arnulf. William had lately renewed his homage to Lewis, and was filled with zeal for the honour of his over-lord. He bade Lewis rise, and he himself took his seat immediately below Otto. It was not fit that the Western King should allow any man to sit above him (“ipse resedit, dixitque indecens esse regem inferiorem, alium vero quemlibet superiorem videri”). He then made Otto rise, and made Lewis take the seat left empty by Otto, he himself keeping the place immediately below Lewis, that where Lewis himself had been seated at first; “Quapropter oportere Ottonem inde amoliri, regique cedere. Otto pudore affectus surgit ac regi cedit. Rex itaque superior, at Wilelmus inferior consederunt.” William thus set forth his theory of precedence; the King of the West-Franks first, the Duke of the Normans second, the Teutonic King and the other princes of Gaul seemingly nowhere. Such a doctrine was naturally unacceptable alike to Otto, Hugh, and Arnulf. They dissembled their anger at the time; but, when the council had broken up, and when Lewis and William had gone away together, they met and discussed their wrongs privately. Otto in vague terms (c. 31) exhorted Hugh and Arnulf to vengeance against William; he who had not spared him, King Otto, would certainly not spare them (“qui sibi regi non indulsit, minus illis indulturum”). Richer however does not charge Otto with counselling the assassination of William, unless such a charge is implied in the words, “conceptum facinus variis verborum coloribus obvelat.” Hugh and Arnulf then met together and determined on the murder of William. His death was expedient, because it would enable them to get Lewis altogether into their power, whereas now William supported the King against them (“regem etiam ad quodcumque volent facilius inflexuros, si is solum pereat, quo rex fretus ad quæque flecti nequeat.” c. 32). The plot was laid; Arnulf invited William to the conference at Picquigny; the Norman Duke was there killed by some of the conspirators whose names are not given, but not in the presence or by the avowed orders of the Count of Flanders.

Dudo’s story (pp. 104 et seqq.) is quite different. He knows nothing of the Council of Attigny, nothing of King Otto as having even an involuntary share in William’s murder. With him the first deviser of the scheme is Arnulf, to whom all mischief is as naturally attributed at this stage of Norman history as, at a later stage of English history, it is attributed first to Ælfric and then to Eadric. Arnulf’s quarrel with William arises wholly out of the affair of Herlwin of Montreuil (see p. 201). But certain French princes who are not named join with Arnulf in the conspiracy; “Arnulfus dux Flandrensium supra memoratus, veneno vipereæ calliditatis nequiter repletus astuque diabolicæ fraudis exitialiter illectus, gentisque Franciscæ quorumdam principum subdolo consilio et malignitate atrociter exhortatus, cœpit meditari et tractare lugubrem mortem ejus Willelmi.” From this point the two tales are nearly the same; only Dudo of course throws Arnulf’s talk with William into a characteristic Dudonian shape. Arnulf is not only ready to make up his differences with Herlwin; he asks for William’s protection against King Lewis, Duke Hugh, and Count Herbert; he is ready to become William’s vassal during life, and to make him his successor at his death; “Quamdiu superstes fuero ero tibi tributarius, meique servient tibi ut domino servus. Post meæ resolutionis excessum, possidebis meæ ditionis regnum” (105 A). No one but Dudo could have thought of putting such words into Arnulf’s mouth, even by way of a blind. The assassination itself is described in much the same way as it is by Richer; Dudo also gives us the names of the actual murderers. They are Eric, Balzo, Robert, and Ridulf or Riulf.

Now these two versions, though at first sight so utterly different, do not formally contradict one another. It is quite possible that Arnulf may have been led to his crime by a combination of causes, of which Richer has enlarged on one part and Dudo on another, according to their several points of view. Arnulf may well have had a grudge against William, both on account of the wrong done to him in the matter of Montreuil and also on account of the insult offered to him at Attigny. And in fact the two narratives to a certain degree incidentally coincide. Richer (ii. 31) implies that Arnulf and his confederates already had a grudge against William before the meeting at Attigny; “Quæ oratio [Ottonis sc.] plurimam invidiam paravit, ac amicos in odium Wilelmi incitavit, quum et ipsi, quamvis latenter, ei admodum inviderent.” Dudo, as we have seen, speaks of a conspiracy of Arnulf with other princes of Gaul. It was not at all unnatural that the affair of Attigny should be of primary importance in the eyes of Richer, and that the affair of Montreuil should be of primary importance in the eyes of Dudo. Attigny lay quite beyond the reach of ordinary Norman vision, and William’s doings there might not seem very meritorious in Norman eyes. It was certainly something to have put an open affront upon the Eastern King; but it was perhaps hardly becoming in the independent lord of the Norman monarchy (see page 221, and above, p. 621) to show such ostentatious deference to the Western King. It is therefore quite possible to put together a very probable narrative, taking in the main statements both of Richer and of Dudo, but of course allowing for the rhetorical and exaggerated form into which both of them throw their details. This is very much what is done by Sir Francis Palgrave (Normandy and England, ii. 299 et seqq.), only in one or two places he gives the story a strange colouring of his own. I can find nothing about William being himself too late, either on purpose or by accident. The statement of Richer, as I read it, is simply that, whether by design or by accident, he was shut out of the council-chamber. Again, Sir Francis simply says that William “compelled King Otho to rise;” he says not a word about William’s motive for so doing or about the exaggerated loyalty which he displayed towards Lewis.

One can hardly doubt, on the authority of Flodoard and Richer, that William was really killed at Picquigny by the machinations of Arnulf. But there is quite another story, briefly alluded to by Sir Francis Palgrave in two places (pp. 298, 303), which transfers the scene of the murder from the Somme to the Seine. This version turns up in several shapes. We get it in Rudolf Glaber (iii. 9. Duchesne, vol. iv. p. 38), according to whom the chief criminal was Theobald of Chartres. Theobald the Tricker is the first to devise the plot, and he is also the actual murderer. In concert with Arnulf, William is invited by Theobald to a conference somewhere on the Seine. Rudolf is not clear whether the summons was sent in the name of the King or of the Duke of the French (“promittens se ex parte regis Francorum seu Hugonis Magni, qui fuerat filius Roberti regis, quem Otto dux Saxonum, postea vero Imperator Romanorum, Suessionis interfecit”); that is to say, Rudolf already failed to understand that there had been a time when the Rex Francorum was quite a different person from the lord of Paris and the Seine. The story of the murder then follows much as before, with the Seine for the Somme and Theobald for Arnulf; only Theobald kills William with his own hand.

In the Tours Chronicle (Duchesne, Rer. Franc, iii. 360) we find another version; “Guillelmus filius Rollonis ducis Normanniæ a Balzone Curto in medio Sequanæ occisus est, propter mortem Riulfi et filii sui Anchetilli.” Now we found Balzo in Dudo’s account as the name of one of William’s murderers, but we had no account of the man or of his motives. He here appears as the avenger of Riulf, doubtless the Riulf who headed the revolt against William in 932 (see p. 189). We then however heard nothing of Riulf’s death, the statement of Dudo (96 D) being that “Riulfus fugiendo evanuit.” But who is Anchetillus, Anquetil, Anscytel, a palpable Dane like our own Thurcytels and Ulfcytels? And why should Balzo avenge either Ancytel or Riulf? Here comes in the story of William of Malmesbury, which he first tells (ii. 145) as if he fully believed it, and then adds, as more trustworthy (“veraciores literæ dicunt”), an abridgement of Dudo’s story. Anscytel (Oscytel) is the son of Riulf, a Norman chief who had somehow incurred William Longsword’s displeasure, and who greatly troubled him with his revolts. But Anscytel is the faithful soldier of Duke William, and he carries his loyalty so far as to take his father prisoner and to hand him over to the Duke. He does however exact a promise that Riulf shall suffer no punishment worse than bonds. But, not long after, Anscytel is sent by Duke William to Pavia with a letter for a potentate described as the Duke of Italy, asking that the bearer may be put to death (“Comes Anschetillum in Papiam dirigit, epistolam de sua ipsius nece ad ducem Italiæ portantem”). This, I need hardly say, is a story as old as Bellerophontês (Il. vi. 168) and as modern as Godwine (see Note EEE). The Duke of Italy of course abhors the crime, and, equally of course, is in dread of the power of his brother of Normandy. A thousand horsemen are sent to attack Anscytel and his companions as soon as they are out of the city. Anscytel, like the Homeric Tydeus, was small in stature but valiant in war (“vir exigui corporis sed immanis fortitudinis”—μικρὸς ἔην δέμας, ἀλλὰ μαχητής· Il. v. 801), whence his surname Curtus. But, less successful than Tydeus (Il. iv. 387; v. 803 et seqq.) or Bellerophontês (Il. vi. 188), Anscytel and his comrades indeed slay all their enemies, but they are also all slain themselves, except Balzo. This sole survivor, unlike Othryadês (Herod, i. 82), does not kill himself, but at once accuses his immediate lord Duke William in the court of his over-lord the King. Besides the treachery practised against Anscytel, Riulf too, contrary to Duke William’s promise, had been blinded in prison. The Duke of the Normans is summoned by his over-lord to answer for the crime, and, somewhat strangely, the court of the Carolingian King of Laon is held at Paris. Thither Duke William humbly comes, and there he is, like Uhtred (see p. 379) and Eadwulf (see p. 527), killed by Balzo under the pretext of a conference.

I need hardly say that this tale, as it stands, is a mere romance; but it is an instructive romance, because it is so easy to trace out the mythical elements out of which it is made up. Still, like most other such stories, it most likely contains its kernel of truth. Balzo may have been one of Riulf’s followers in the Côtentin, who took an opportunity to revenge his chieftain’s defeat. More than this it would be rash to infer. So the story in Rudolf Glaber may justify us in adding Theobald of Chartres to the list of conspirators against William, and the same story falls in with the charge against Hugh brought by Richer. But there is no kind of need to breathe the least suspicion against King Lewis; William was just then his firm friend, and any mention of the King as having a hand in the business seems to be owing only to the fact that the later writers had forgotten what were the true relations between Laon and Paris in the days of William Longsword.

NOTE AA. p. 263. LEADING MEN IN ENGLAND AT THE DEATH OF EADGAR.

Ælfhere of Mercia is called by Florence (983) “Regis Anglorum Eadgari propinquus,” which most likely means kindred by the mother’s side. His name is affixed to most of the charters of the time, and many acts in Mercia are stated to be done by his consent. See, for instance, a charter of Bishop Oswald (Cod. Dipl. iii. 5), where he bears the title of “heretoga.” The Chronicles (A. 975), followed by Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 748 C), who calls him “consul nequissimus,” charge him with actually destroying monasteries. Florence speaks only of his bringing in married priests and their wives. In some cases it appears that former owners of lands then in monastic occupation laid legal claims to them as having been taken from them unjustly. See Hist. El. lib. i. c. 5, 8; Gale, pp. 465, 467. It is curious to find among these claimants against the monastery of Ely no less a person than Ealdorman Æthelwine himself (Hist. El. lib. i. c. 5). Æthelwine, worshipped at Ramsey, was thought much less highly of at Ely, just as we shall find Harold spoken of very differently at Wells and at Waltham.

Of the house of the Ealdormen of the East-Angles, of whom Æthelwine, who has just been mentioned, was the most famous, we can get a still more distinct idea. See Florence, A. 975, 991; Hist. Rams. 387, Gale. Æthelwine was the youngest son of Æthelstan, surnamed the Half-king (Hist. Rams., u. s.), Ealdorman of the East-Angles, who seems to have died about 967, when we find his last signature (Cod. Dipl. iii. 16). He married (Hist. El. ii. 8; Gale, p. 495) Æthelflæd, daughter of Brihthelm, and sister of the famous Ealdorman Brihtnoth, of whom we shall hear more presently. They had four sons, Æthelwold, Ælfwold, Æthelsige, and Æthelwine. Of these, the eldest and youngest were in turn joined with their father in the government of East-Anglia. Æthelwold, whose widow Ælfthryth married King Eadgar in 964 (when Florence calls him “gloriosus dux Orientalium Anglorum”), signs several charters as dux down to 962, probably the year of his death. From that year his youngest brother (see Florence, 992) Æthelwine takes his place. It is not easy to see why Ælfwold was excluded, as he lived on in a private station, and was on good terms with his brother the Ealdorman (Fl. Wig. A. 975). Æthelsige also, the third brother, signs many charters with the title of “minister,” that is, Thegn. Æthelwine died in 992 (Fl. Wig. 992). The portentous title of “totius [Orientalis?] Angliæ aldermannus,” said (see Hist. Rams. p. 462) to have been inscribed on his grave, is hardly credible, but it has its parallels in the title of “Dux Francorum,” borne by the contemporary Lords of Paris, in that of “Princeps Francorum” borne by the Mayors of the Palace in earlier days (Ann. Mett. 621; Pertz, i. 320, &c.), and in that of “Dux Anglorum” given by the Bayeux Tapestry to Harold when Earl of the West-Saxons. Who succeeded him in his earldom is not very clear. He had a son Æthelweard, who died at Assandun in 1016. Florence calls him “Æthelwardus dux, filius ducis East-Anglorum Æthelwini Dei amici,” but the Chronicles call him simply “Æþlweard Æþelwines sunu ealdormannes.” The testimony of Florence shows that “Æþelwines,” the reading of the Abingdon Chronicle, is the right one. Worcester has “Ælfwines,” Peterborough, more remarkably, “Æðelsiges.” The question as to the right of this Æthelweard to the title of “dux” at once leads us to the position of the famous Ulfcytel of East-Anglia, of whom see below, Note HH. With regard to Æthelsige, the question at once arises whether this is the Æthelsige of whom Æthelred speaks in a charter of 999 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 305) as having beguiled him into his spoliation of the see of Rochester. See above, p. 267. This Æthelsige, he complains, corrupted his innocent youth, and he draws a fearful picture of his evil deeds in various ways. He was at last punished by the loss of all his own honours and property. This is no doubt the Æthelsige who signs many of the earlier charters of Æthelred (Cod. Dipl. iii. 171, 190, 202, 212, 216, 222, 224, 228, 280); but it is not clear either whether this is our Æthelsige, or whether either of them is the same as the captain who ravaged South Wales in 991.

Of Brihtnoth, the uncle and ally of Æthelwine, we shall hear again as the hero of Maldon (see p. 270). Of the many ways of spelling his name and kindred names, Brihtric and the like, _Briht_noth is the one which I prefer. Beorht is the older, briht the later form of the word; so that Beorhtnoth and Brihtnoth are the correct earlier and later forms of the name. Byrhtnoth and other spellings are simply transitional and irregular.

Brihtnoth, we learn from the Song of Maldon, was the son of Brihthelm. I take him to be the same as Brihtnoth the Thegn, to whom a grant of land is made by Eadgar in 967 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 15), and who signs as “minister,” another man of the same name signing as “dux.” This elder Ealdorman Brithnoth can be traced back to the beginning of Eadgar’s reign. It is not easy to say to which of these two Brihtnoths the signatures of “Brihtnoth dux” in the latter years of Eadgar belong. Nor is it clear which of the two it is to whom Eadgar makes another grant of land in 967 (Cod. Dipl. vi. 82). But it is certain that our Brihtnoth had attained the rank of Ealdorman before the death of Eadgar in 975. In 991 he was an old man, “Hár hilderinc.” It should be noticed that Brihtnoth the Thegn gives the lands granted him by the King to the church of Worcester, an act eminently characteristic of our Brihtnoth.

There is another notice of Brihtnoth in a charter of Æthelred of 1005 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 339), which seems to contain a reference to a genuine will of his. In the confirmation charter of Eynsham abbey the King—“ego Eðelredus, multiplici Dei clementia indulgente, Angul-Saxonum antedictus rex, cæterarumque gentium longe lateque per circuitum gubernator et rector”—records among other gifts, “villam quæ Scipford dicitur dedit vir prædictus [the founder Æthelmar] ad monasterium antedictum, quam ei Leofwinus suus consanguineus spiritu in ultimo constitutus donavit, quam Birhtnoðus antea dux præclarus ab Eadgaro patre meo dignis præmium pro meritis accipere lætabatur; Micclantun similiter ad monasterium dedit, quam ille Birhtnoðus dux prædictus ultimo commisit dono ab Eadgaro quoque ei antea donatam et in cartula firmiter commendatam.” We here see the favour in which Brihtnoth stood with Eadgar.

Brihtnoth appears also in the will of Æthelflæd (recited in that of Ælflæd, Cod. Dipl. iii. 271), a document of the reign of Eadgar. Large bequests are made to the Ealdorman by Æthelflæd; but his death seems to have hindered their taking effect, as a different disposal of the property is made by Ælflæd. Mr. Thorpe (Dipl. Ang. 519) identifies this Æthelflæd with the widow of King Eadmund, but his reference to the Chronicles should be 946 instead of 925. Brihtnoth had married Æthelflæd’s sister. As his own widow bore the same name, was she a second wife, or were there two sisters both called Æthelflæd? We find another case of three Æthelflæds in one family, p. 521. In the alleged will of Brihtnoth himself in Palgrave, ii. ccxxiii., I put very little faith.

The accounts of Brihtnoth in the Histories of Ely and Ramsey seem to be mixed up with a good deal of fable. They both (Ramsey, c. lxxi.; Gale, p. 422; Ely, lib. ii. c. 6; Gale, p. 493) tell a story how the Ealdorman, on his march against the Danes, came to Ramsey and asked for food for his army. The niggardly Abbot Wulfsige was ready to entertain the Ealdorman and a few select companions, but he would not undertake to feed the whole host. Brihtnoth, like Alexander, will partake of nothing in which all his soldiers cannot share, and marches on to Ely, where Abbot Ælfsige receives the whole multitude. Brihtnoth accordingly gives to the abbey of Ely certain lands which he had intended for that of Ramsey. This is hardly history; we see too clearly the stories of Gideon and the elders of Succoth and of David and Abiathar the Priest. It is also hard to see how a march to Maldon from any part of Brihtnoth’s government could lead him by either Ramsey or Ely. The Ely History escapes this difficulty by making him Earl of the Northumbrians instead of the East-Saxons, and by making two battles of Maldon. Brihtnoth, victorious in the former, returns to Northumberland; the Danes land again; Brihtnoth comes from Northumberland, taking the two abbeys on his march; he then fights the second battle, in which, after fourteen days of combat, he is killed.

Of the three Thegns of Lindesey or Deira, who played such a cowardly part in 993 (see p. 283), two at least are known to us by the charters of Eadgar’s reign. The account of the affair in the Chronicles is simply, “Þa onstealdon þa heretogan ærest þone fleam· þæt wæs Fræna and Godwine and Friðegist.” Florence expands somewhat; “Duces exercitus, Frana videlicet, Frithogist, et Godwinus, quia ex paterno genere Danici fuerunt, suis insidiantes, auctores fugæ primitus exstiterunt.” The words “ex paterno genere” would imply that the earlier Danish settlers, like the followers of Cnut and of William afterwards, often took English wives. Also Florence translates “heretogan” by “duces exercitus,” lest “heretogan” should be taken to imply the permanent rank of Ealdorman. Neither Fræna nor Frithegist ever held that rank. They sign charters in abundance, from the days of Eadgar onwards, but never with any higher rank than that of “minister” or “miles.” Fræna signs a great many charters long after this. In 995 he signs two of Æscwig, Bishop of Dorchester (Cod. Dipl. iii. 286, 288), which probably implies that he belonged to Lindesey and not to Deira. Of Godwine we may suspect that he also was of Lindesey, that he reformed, and rose to the rank of Ealdorman. Godwine, Ealdorman of Lindesey, who died at Assandun in 1016, is most likely the man here spoken of; but Godwine is so common a name that it is impossible to say to whom all the signatures of “Godwine minister” belong. Sometimes two or more Godwines sign without further distinction.

These are the chief men of the days of Eadgar who are also heard of under Æthelred, with the exception of those who are connected with Northumberland, of whom I shall speak in a separate Note (KK). It would also be easy, by the help of the charters, to trace the succession and promotions of several men of less renown.

NOTE BB. p. 265. THE ELECTION OF EADWARD THE MARTYR.

The Chronicles do not, either in prose or in verse, say anything about the disputed election which is said to have followed the death of Eadgar, though three of them notice in verse that the crown passed to a minor. Eadgar dies,

“And feng his bearn syððan Tó cynerice, Cild únweaxen. Eorla ealdor; Þam wæs Eadweard nama.”

Either there is here a play on the words “ealdor” and “cild únweaxen,” or else the passage is a sign how utterly the word “ealdor” had lost its primitive sense.

Florence describes the disputed election very clearly;

“De rege eligendo magna inter regni primores oborta est dissensio; quidam namque regis filium Edwardum, quidam vero fratrem illius elegerunt Ægelredum. Quam ob caussam archipræsules Dunstanus et Oswaldus, cum coepiscopis, abbatibus, ducibusque quam plurimis, in unum convenerunt, et Eadwardum, ut pater suus præceperat, elegerunt; electum consecraverunt et in regem unxerunt.”

William of Malmesbury (ii. 161) makes Eadward be supported by Dunstan and certain Bishops in opposition to the Lady Ælfthryth and a party of the nobles; “contra voluntatem quorumdam, ut aiunt, optimatum et novercæ, quæ vixdum septem annorum puerulum Egelredum filium provehere conabatur, ut ipsa potius sub ejus nomine imperitaret.”

Osbern, the biographer of Dunstan (Anglia Sacra, ii. 113), speaks of Eadward as the heir, but says that some of the chief nobles objected to his election (“in cujus electione dum quidam principes palatini adquiescere nollent”) because of their fears from his supposed character (“existimantes juvenem regem inhumanum futurum, consilia sapientum non curaturum, sed pro libidine omnia acturum”). Eadmer, in his Life of Dunstan (Ang. Sac. ii. 220), makes them dread his severe justice (“quia morum illius severitatem, qua in suorum excessus acriter sævire consueverat, suspectam habebat”). They also object that he was not the son of a crowned King and his Lady (“quia matrem ejus, licet legaliter nuptam, in regnum tamen non magis quam patrem ejus dum eum genuit sacratam fuisse sciebant”). Waitz (iii. 65) remarks, when Pope Stephen anointed the sons of Pippin along with their father, “dass dies geschehen sei, um den vor der Wahl gebornen Söhnen das volle Erbrecht zu geben und die Möglichkeit zu entfernen, dass man etwa später gebornen Söhnen einen Vorrang beilege.” In both these accounts the matter is brought to an issue by the vigorous action of Dunstan.

One would like to know how far there is any truth in these statements of the objections brought against Eadward. One would have thought that there could not have been much to fear from either the virtues or the vices of a boy of his years. But the objection brought against him on the ground of his not being of kingly birth is much more likely to be a piece of genuine tradition. The difficulty about it is that, as Lappenberg remarks, it was an objection which told just as much against Æthelred as against Eadward. For the meaning can hardly be other than that Eadward was born before his father’s coronation at Bath in 974, which Æthelred was also. Otherwise the objection would really be a good one, and it was used long after on behalf of Henry the First against his elder brothers. (Cf. Herod. vii. 2–3.) Perhaps all that was meant was to deny that Eadward had any preference over his half-brother, so that the two boys might be candidates on equal terms.

I may add that the Bath coronation of Eadgar is to me one of the most puzzling things in our history. I should have taken it to be, according to one story, a mere taking again of the crown after the penance for the matter of Wulfthryth; only the Chronicles, which have hitherto freely called Eadgar King, in recording the coronation pointedly call him Ætheling.

NOTE CC. p. 278. THE TWO ÆLFRICS.

Who was Ælfric, and how many Ælfrics were there? An Ælfric, son of Ælfhere of Mercia, had, as we have seen, succeeded his father in the government of that country, and had been banished five years before (see p. 268) the time which we have reached. An Ealdorman Ælfric died fighting for his country twenty-five years later (see p. 293). Most likely these are three distinct persons; but, as the Ælfric of whom we are now speaking was pardoned after crimes which might seem unpardonable, he might easily be thought to be the same as the already banished son of Ælfhere. At the same time it should be noticed that Florence in no way identifies the Ælfric of 991 with the banished Ælfric of 986, while he takes great pains to show that the Ælfric of 991 is the same as the traitor of 992 (“Alfricum cujus supra meminimus”) and of 1003 (“Alfricus dux supra memoratus”). The charters also seem to show that Ælfric the son of Ælfhere and the Ælfric of 991 are two distinct persons. In 983 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 196) we have the signatures of “Ælfhere dux,” “Ælfric dux.” In another charter of the same year we find these two signatures and also those of two persons called “Ælfric minister.” In 984 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 202) we find two signatures of “Ælfric dux” and one of “Ælfric minister.” In 984 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 203) we find “Ælfric ealdorman” addressed along with “ealle þa þegenas on Hámtúnscire.” A mention of Bishop Ælfheah in the charter shows that this means Hampshire and not Northamptonshire, and Ælfric the traitor seems to command the men of Hampshire in 1003 (see p. 318). In Cod. Dipl. iii. 292 we have mention of an “Ælfric ealdorman” who seems to have jurisdiction in Berkshire; his government may easily have taken in the two adjoining shires. I infer, then, that Ælfric the traitor was not Ealdorman of the Mercians, but of Hampshire and Berkshire, and that he was appointed in or before 983, when we find his signature along with that of Ælfhere. Ælfric the son of Ælfhere succeeded his father in Mercia in 983; in 984 therefore there were two Ealdormen of the name, and we find the signatures of both.

Another argument to the same effect is supplied by two charters which evidently refer to the banishment of Ælfric the son of Ælfhere. One in Cod. Dipl. vi. 174, attributed to the year 993, granting certain lands to the monastery of Abingdon, says, “Has terrarum portiones Alfric cognomento puer a quadam vidua Eadfled appellata violenter abstraxit, ac deinde quum in ducatu suo contra me et contra omnem gentem meam reus exsisteret ... quando ad synodale concilium ad Cyrneceastre universi optimates mei simul in unum convenerunt, et eumdem Alfricum majestatis reum de hac patria profugum expulerunt.” The other charter, of 999 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 312, Hist. Abingdon. i. 373), states much the same of a person described as “comes vocitamine Ælfric.” This charter is signed by an “Ælfric dux,” that is, no doubt, Ælfric of Hampshire. “Alfricus cyld,” that is, of course, “cognomento puer,” is spoken of also in the Ely History (i. 12, Gale) as a man of importance, as the son of Ealdorman Ælfhere would be, before Æthelred was King (969–979). The description of the Witenagemót at Cirencester reads very like the banishment in 986.

As for the hero of Assandun, I can only say that the name Ælfric is exceedingly common, and that it is open to us to identify him with any of the men who sign as “Ælfric minister.”

I am thankful that I have only to deal with the lay Ælfrics. There is an ecclesiastical difficulty of the same kind which I cheerfully leave in the hands of Professor Stubbs.

NOTE DD. p. 279. THE TREATY WITH OLAF AND JUSTIN.

The text of the Treaty is given in Thorpe, i. 284; Schmid, 204. It is drawn up between King Æthelred and his Witan on the one side and the invading army on the other. “Þis synd þâ frið-mâl and þâ forword, þe Æðelred cyng and ealle his witan wið þone here gedôn habbað, þe Anlaf and Justin and Guðmund Stegitan sunu mid wæ̂ron.” It must belong to this year, and, if so, it seems to prove that Olaf Tryggvesson was present, and also that he was not yet either King or catechumen. Had the document belonged to the later dealings with Olaf, he would hardly have been placed alongside with Justin and Guthmund, but some notice would have been taken both of his Christianity and of his royal rank. Compare the different language of the treaties of Ælfred with the first and of Eadward with the second Guthrum, Thorpe, i. 152, 166; Schmid, 106, 118. The treaty between Ælfred and Guthrum is drawn up between “Ælfred cynincg and Gŷðrûm cyning and ealles Angelcynnes witan and eal seô þeôd þe on Eâst-Englum beôð.” That between Eadward and the second Guthrum is between “Eadward cyng and Gûðrûm cyng,” and the Christianity of both sides is distinctly set forth. Schmid (p. li.) supposes, either that the Anlaf here spoken of was another person from Olaf Tryggvesson, or else that the name Anlaf is an interpolation in the text. But surely these suppositions are rather violent, when the matter can be explained without recourse to them.

By this treaty provision is made for wergilds, for the reception of merchants, and for various civil contingencies, which clearly imply that a long stay was expected on the part of the Northmen. Neither side is to receive the other’s thieves, foes, or Welshmen (Schmid, 208). “And þæt naðor ne hy ne we underfon oðres Wealh ne oðres þeof ne oðres gefan.” The Wealas of the Northmen must have been simply their prisoners or servants of any kind, many of them perhaps Englishmen. So completely had the word shared the fate of the word Slave, as is still more plainly the case with the feminine form Wylne.

On the use of the word Englaland in the treaty, see above, p. 538.

NOTE EE. pp. 285, 302. THE RELATIONS OF ÆTHELRED WITH NORMANDY.

The English Chronicles, and also Florence, are silent as to any intercourse, whether friendly or hostile, between England and Normandy earlier than the marriage of Æthelred and Emma. The one passage which has been sometimes thought to refer to one of the events recorded in the text cannot possibly have that meaning. The entry in the Chronicles in the year 1000, “And se unfrið flota wæs ðæs sumeres gewend to Ricardes rice,” can refer only to the Danish fleet. “Unfrið flota” must be taken in the same sense as “unfrið here” in the year 1009. And so it is taken by Florence; “Danorum classis præfata hoc anno Nortmanniam petit.” We are thus left wholly to the testimony of inferior authorities, and we must get such an amount of truth out of them as we can.

I have, in my text, after some hesitation, described two disputes between Æthelred and the Norman Dukes. The first quarrel was with Richard the Fearless in 991, which was appeased by the intervention of Pope John the Fifteenth; the second was with Richard the Good in 1000, which led to open hostilities which are described as an English invasion of the Côtentin. The stories rest respectively on the authority of William of Malmesbury (ii. 165, 6), and of William of Jumièges (v. 4). It is open to any one to reject both stories. It is still more open to any one to reject the second story, the exaggerated character of which is manifest, and the chronology of which must be a year or two wrong. But I do not think that it is safe to take them, with Sir Francis Palgrave (England and Normandy, iii. 103), and Dr. Lappenberg (p. 421 of the original, ii. 154 Thorpe), as different versions of one event, still less to fix, with Sir Francis, that event to the later date of the two.

William of Malmesbury tells us very little in his own name. He says only that Richard the Fearless had provoked Æthelred in various ways (“vir eximius, qui etiam Edelredum sæpe injuriis pulsaverit”), and that Pope John, wishing to hinder war among Christians (“non passa sedes apostolica duos Christianos digladiari”), sent Leo Bishop of Trier into England to make peace. A document then follows, described as the “legationis epistola” of this prelate, which contains an account of his mission, and gives the terms of the peace between Æthelred and Richard, and the names of the plenipotentiaries on both sides. The document is very strange in point of form, as it begins in the name of the Pope, while the latter part clearly gives the actual words of the treaty. Sir Francis Palgrave (iii. 106) objects to the genuineness of the letter that its style is unusual, if not unparalleled, which it certainly is. It runs thus; “Johannes quintus decimus, sanctæ Romanæ ecclesiæ Papa, omnibus fidelibus.” Sir Francis does not mention another objection, namely, that neither in 991 nor in 1001 was the Archbishop of Trier named Leo. The reigning Archbishop in 991 was Eckebert; before 1000 he had been succeeded by Ludolf (Gesta Treverorum, ap. Pertz, viii. 169–171). But Sir Francis (iii. 107) adds, “While we reject the convention in the shape now presented, we accept its import.—The quarrel and the reconciliation are unquestionable verities.” But the quarrel and reconciliation recorded by William of Malmesbury are a quarrel and reconciliation between Æthelred and Richard the Fearless in a definite year 991. They cannot be turned into a quarrel and reconciliation between Æthelred and Richard the Good nine years later. The apparently wrong name of the papal legate is a difficulty either way, but it is not a very formidable one. Lappenberg (p. 422 of the original German) calls Leo “_Vice_bischof von Trier,” which Mr. Thorpe (ii. 154) translates simply “Bishop.” Lappenberg gives no reference for his description of Leo; but a fact in German history may be safely accepted on his authority, and the local history of Trier which I have just referred to contains a statement which curiously fits in with our story. Archbishop Eckebert (977–993), son of Theodoric, Count of Holland, was the son of an English mother, and he kept up a close connexion with England. It is therefore quite natural that either he or an officer of his church should enter with zeal into a scheme for the advantage of a country which Eckebert seems almost to have looked on as his own. The other names are accurately given. John the Fifteenth was Pope, and Æthelsige was Bishop of Sherborne, in 991. Both were dead in 1000. I think it follows that the account in William of Malmesbury cannot possibly refer to a transaction with Richard the Good in 1000. The story is definitely fixed to the year 991.

Is then William of Malmesbury’s account ground enough for accepting a quarrel between Æthelred and Richard the Fearless, and a reconciliation brought about by Pope John Fifteenth? On the whole, I think it is. It is not the kind of transaction which any one would invent, if nothing of the sort happened at all, and it is hard to see to what other transaction the account can refer. The story also, as it seems to me, fits in well with the circumstances of the times. The “legationis epistola” can hardly be genuine in its actual shape as a letter of the Pope, but it seems to be made out of two genuine documents, a letter of Pope John and the text of the treaty. The unusual style might be simply the bungling attempt of a compiler to show which of all the Popes named John was the one here meant. The treaty itself bears every sign of genuineness, and the names of the plenipotentiaries are distinctly in its favour. One of the Norman signatures is that of “Rogerus episcopus,” and there was a Roger Bishop of Lisieux from 990 to 1024. The lesser Norman plenipotentiaries I cannot identify, but on the English side, as the Bishop is right, the Thegns also are right. A mere forger would not have inserted such names as those of Leofstan and Æthelnoth. He would either have put in names quite at a venture, or else have picked out the names of some famous Ealdormen of the time. There could be no temptation for a forger to pitch on Leofstan and Æthelnoth, real contemporary men, but men of no special celebrity.

The reader has still to determine whether, accepting this account of Æthelred’s quarrel with the elder Richard, he will go on to admit a second quarrel with the younger Richard. The only question is whether the story in William of Jumièges is pure invention, or whether its manifestly exaggerated details contain some such kernel of truth as I have supposed in the text. It certainly seems to me that to set the whole affair down as a mere lie is attributing too much even to the Norman power of lying, which I certainly have no wish to underrate. The story, in its general outline, seems to fit in well with the position of things at the time, and even with the character of Æthelred. But if we accept it as thus far true, we must suppose that William of Jumièges transposed the invasion of the Côtentin and the marriage of Emma. He places the latter event first. Now the marriage would follow very naturally on the conclusion of peace, while the invasion would not be at all likely to follow the marriage. Sir Francis Palgrave silently transposes the two events in the same way that I have done. He also connects the invasion, as I have done, with the reception of Danish vessels in the Norman havens. If this was, as I suppose, a breach of the treaty of 991, the wrath of Æthelred becomes still more intelligible. In this view of the matter, looking at the entry in the Chronicles under the year 1000, we can hardly fail to fix the event in that year.

Lappenberg, whose note (p. 422) should be read in the original text, takes the opposite view to Sir Francis Palgrave. He accepts the account of the transaction in 991, but carries back the invasion of the Côtentin to that year. This is at least more probable than Sir Francis’ version, and perhaps some readers may be inclined to accept it rather than my notion of two distinct disputes. But the narrative of William of Jumièges connects the invasion in a marked way with the marriage of Emma, though he has clearly confounded the order of events.

Roger of Wendover (i. 427) boldly carries back the marriage of Emma to some date earlier than 990, and makes the quarrel between Æthelred and her father arise out of his ill-treatment of her. He was misled by William of Malmesbury’s characteristic contempt for chronological order.

NOTE FF. p. 300. ÆTHELRED’S INVASION OF CUMBERLAND.

The Chronicles, followed by Florence, state the fact of Æthelred’s expedition against Cumberland without any explanation of its motives; “Her on þisum geare se cyning ferde in to Cumerlande, and hit swiðe neah eall forheregode.” So Florence; “Rex Ægelredus terram Cumbrorum fere totam depopulatus est.” For the motive of this unusual piece of energy we have, in default of any better authority, to go to Fordun, iv. 35 (vol. i. p. 179 ed. Skene). He attributes it to Malcolm’s refusal to contribute to the Danegeld. Having spoken of several of the payments made to the Danes, he thus goes on;

“Unde rex Ethelredus regulo Cumbriæ supradicto Malcolmo scribens per nuntium mandavit quod suos Cumbrenses tributa solvere cogeret, sicut cæteri faciunt provinciales. Quod ille protinus contradicens rescripsit suos aliud nullatenus debere vectigal, præterquam ad edictum regium, quandocumque sibi placuerit, cum cæteris semper fore paratos ad bellandum.... Hac caussa quidem, et sicut rex in ira motus asseruit, eo quod regulus contra sacramentum sibi debitum Danis favebat, maximam ex Cumbria prædam arripuit. Postea tamen concordes per omnia statim effecti, pace firma de cætero convenerunt.”

This account seems so likely in itself that I have not scrupled to adopt it in the text. But it must be compared with an account given by Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 750 A), which at first sight sounds very different; “Exinde rex Edelred ivit in Cumberland cum exercitu gravissimo, ubi maxima mansio Dacorum erat, vicitque Dacos bello maximo, totamque fere Cumberland prædando vastavit.” Here is no mention of Malcolm, and the Danes are described as being actually in possession of the country, of which the other accounts give us no hint. But that Malcolm was reigning in Cumberland at this time there is no doubt, and if any Danes were settled there, they must have been settled by Malcolm’s consent, willing or constrained. It is of course possible that one ground of Æthelred’s wrath against Malcolm may have been that he had not only refused to pay Danegeld, but had allowed Danes to settle in his dominions. And it may be that we may here have lighted on the clew to the great puzzle of Cumbrian ethnology. That Cumberland and Westmoreland are to this day largely Scandinavian needs no proof. But we have no record of the process by which they became so. In Northumberland and East-Anglia we know when the Danes settled, and we know something of the dynasties which they founded. But the Scandinavian settlement in Cumberland—Norwegian no doubt rather than Danish—we know only by its results. We have no statement as to its date, and we know that no Scandinavian dynasty was founded there. The settlement must therefore have been more peaceful and more gradual than the settlements in Northumberland and East-Anglia, and the reign of Malcolm may have been the time when it happened.

As I understand the story about the ships, the fleet, which had doubtless been gathered in some of the southern ports, was to assemble at Chester, and thence to sail to support the King’s land-force in Cumberland. “His scypu,” say the Chronicles, “wendon ut abutan Lægceaster, and sceoldon cuman ongean hyne: ac hî ne meahton.” But to get to Chester they had to sail round Wales, which Florence expresses by the words “mandavit ut, circumnavigata septemtrionali Brytannia, in loco constituto sibi occurreret.” Lappenberg (430) takes “Monege” in the Chronicles to be Anglesey; his translator (ii. 162), rightly I think, substitutes Man, but he adds the strange assertion, of which there is no trace in the original, that the fleet “was ordered to sail round the north of the island,” as if “septemtrionalis Britannia” meant Caithness. See p. 41, and the Winchester Chronicle, 922.

NOTE GG. p. 315. THE MASSACRE OF SAINT BRICE.

The account of the massacre in the Chronicles stands thus; “On þam geare se cyng hét ofslean ealle þa Deniscan men þa on Angelcynne wæron. Ðis wæs gedon on Britius mæssedæg, forðam þam cynge wæs gecyd þæt hi woldon hine besyrewan æt his life, and siððan ealle his witan, and habban siððan þis rice.”

To this account I have in the present edition ventured to add one piece of local detail, namely the story of the Danes at Oxford who took refuge in Saint Frithswyth’s minster. This is recorded in the charter of Æthelred in Cod. Dipl. iii. 327, which is marked by Mr. Kemble as spurious or doubtful, but which I am now inclined to follow Mr. James Parker (Historical Notices of Oxford, p. 20) in accepting as at all events recording a real fact. The story runs thus; “Omnibus in hac patria degentibus sat constat fore notissimum, quoddam a me decretum cum concilio optimatum satrapumque meorum exivit ut cuncti Dani qui in hac insula, velut lolium inter triticum, pullulando emerserant justissima examinatione necarentur, hocque decretum morte tenus ad effectum perduceretur, ipsi quique in præfata urbe [Oxonefordæ] morabantur Dani mortem evadere nitentes, hoc Christi sacrarium, fractis per vim valvis et pessulis, intrantes, asylum sibi propugnaculumque contra urbanos suburbanosque ibi fieri decreverunt; sed cum populus omnis insequens, necessitate compulsus, eos ejicere niteretur nec valeret, igne tabulis injecto hanc ecclesiam, ut liquet, cum munimentis ac libris combusserunt.” I am now inclined to accept this story, and to hold that it has been wrongly transferred by William of Malmesbury to the time of the murder of Sigeferth and Morkere at Oxford in 1015. His story runs thus (ii. 179). After describing the murder of the two Thegns, much as in the Chronicle, but with some further details, he adds, “clientuli eorum, dominorum necem vindicare conantes, armis repulsi et in turrim ecclesiæ Sanctæ Frideswidæ coacti, unde dum ejici nequirent, incendio conflagrati. Sed mox regis pœnitentia, eliminata spurcitia, sacrarium reparatum; legi ego scriptum quod in archivo ejusdem ecclesiæ continetur index facti.” This certainly looks very much as if William had seen the original of the charter, which records the reparation of the church (“Dei adjutorio a me et a meis constat renovata”), and had put the story at a wrong time. That this is so is almost proved by the date. Æthelred could have had no time for church restoration between the Gemót of 1015 and his death in 1016. Between the massacre in 1002 and the date of the charter in 1004, though the state of things was not very favourable for such works, he had rather more time. The confusion between the two stories was easy. Sigeferth and Morkere and their followers, though not Danes in the same sense as the victims of Saint Brice, were almost certainly of Danish descent.

In Florence we get the first touch of amplification in the general story. The rest of the passage he merely translates, but the words “ealle þa Deniscan men þa on Angelcynne wæron” become “omnes Danos Angliam incolentes, majores et minores, utriusque sexus.” This is the first hint of any slaughter of women, and it is confined to Danish women.

William of Malmesbury directly mentions the massacre twice. The first time (ii. 165) it comes in almost incidentally, in a rhetorical passage about the character of Æthelred and the wretchedness of his reign. He speaks of “Danos, quos levibus suspicionibus omnes uno die in tota Anglia trucidari jusserat, ubi fuit videre miseriam, dum quisque carissimos hospites, quos etiam arctissima necessitudo dulciores effecerat, cogeretur prodere et amplexus gladio deturbare.” We begin here to get a dim vision of Danes possessed of English wives or mistresses. In the other passage (ii. 177) he describes the slaughter of Pallig, Gunhild, and their son, which is again brought in incidentally, as the moving cause of Swegen’s great invasion in 1013. Gunhild, “non illepidæ formæ virago,” had given herself as a hostage on the conclusion of peace with the Danes (“accepta Christianitate, obsidem se Danicæ pacis fecerat”). She was beheaded by order of Eadric (“eam cum cæteris Danis infaustus furor Edrici decapitari jusserat”), and, before her own death, she had to see her husband killed in some undescribed way, and her son, a promising lad, pierced with four spears (“occiso prius ante ora marito, et filio, commodæ indolis puero, quattuor lanceis forato”).

I suspect, as I said in the text, that the notion of a massacre of women, which we find even in Florence, arose out of this one tale of Gunhild. In William of Jumièges (v. 6) we get some soul-harrowing details;

“Edelredus, Anglorum rex, regnum, quod sub magna potentissimorum regum gloria diu floruerat, tanto nefariæ proditionis scelere regiminis sui tempore polluit, ut et pagani tam exsecrabile nefas horrendum judicarent. Nam Danos per omne regnum unanimi concordia secum cohabitantes, mortis periculum minime suspicantes, subito furore sub una die perimi, mulieres quoque alvo tenus terræ esse defossas, et ferocissimis canibus concitatis mamillas ab earum pectoribus crudeliter extorqueri, lactentes vero pueros ad domorum postes allisos excerebrari jussit, nullis criminum existentibus culpis.”

Here we have only Danish women and Danish children. In the Roman de Rou (6352 et seqq.) we get the first hint of a massacre of English women. It is not directly asserted, but it seems to be implied.

“En Engleterre erent Daneis Cumunément od li Engleis, Des Englesches fames perneient, Filz et filles asez aveient.” (vv. 6358–6361.)

Then we read an account of nearly the same horrors as in William of Jumièges, with some improvements. The details of the throat-cutting are given more minutely; we hear also of embowelling (“et as auquanz esbueloent”), and not only dogs but bears are employed to tear off the breasts of the women.

“Li dames è li dameseiles Enfoient tresk ’as mameles, Poiz amenoient li gainuns, Ors enchaenez è brohuns, Ki lur traient li cerveles E desrumpeient li mameles.” (vv. 6384–6389.)

In both accounts the destruction is all but complete; certain young men, two or more—“quidam juvenes” in William of Jumièges, “douz valez” in Wace—escape—according to William—in a ship which they found in the Thames, and carry the news to King Swegen in Denmark.

We now turn to John of Wallingford, who died in 1214, and who (Gale, ii. 547) knows much more about the matter. The Danes were far from being such comfortable neighbours to the English as they appear in the two Norman accounts. They held all the chief towns and did much mischief; “optima terræ municipia vel occupaverant vel præparaverant, et genti terræ multas molestias inferebant.” But the chief evil was the way in which they made themselves too agreeable to the English women. They took great care of their persons; they changed their clothes often, they combed their hair every day, and took a bath every Saturday; “habebant ex consuetudine patriæ unoquoque die comam pectere, sabbatis balneare, sæpe etiam vestituram mutare, et formam corporis multis talibus frivolis adjuvare.” The consequence was that many English matrons broke their marriage vows and many noble maidens became mistresses of Danes. Many wars and confusions arose out of these and the other evil deeds of the Danes, till it was settled that each province should get rid of its own Danes; “ut quælibet provincia suos Danos occideret.” They were accordingly all killed on Saturday, their bathing-day. John of Wallingford does not mention the day of Saint Brice, but in 1002 that festival would really fall on a Saturday. Here we get the destruction of women and children; but they are now distinctly the English women who had yielded to the seductions of the Danes and the children who were born of these unlawful unions; “ipsas mulieres suas, quæ luxuriæ eorum consenserant, et pueros, qui ex fœditate adulterii nati erant.” John of Wallingford does not employ either dogs or bears for the torture of the women; he is satisfied with cutting off their breasts; but those who had their breasts cut off and those who were put in the ground—in Italian phrase “planted”—now form two classes, while before there was only one; “mammas quarumdam absciderunt, alias vivas terræ infoderunt.” The number of young men who escape is raised to twelve.

I must now go back a generation or two to Henry of Huntingdon. He was living in 1154, yet he seems to profess to get his information from contemporaries—“de quo scelere in pueritia nostra quosdam vetustissimos loqui audivimus.” Æthelred, according to his account (M. H. B. 752 A), was puffed up with his marriage with Emma (“quo proventu rex Adelred in superbiam elatus”), and so massacred the Danes. He sent letters secretly to every town, ordering them to be put to death at one and the same hour, which was done on Saint Brice’s day. Some were slain with the sword, others were burned; “vel gladiis truncaverunt inpræmeditatos, vel igne simul cremaverunt subito comprehensos.” There is no mention of women, not even of Gunhild. This account of Henry of Huntingdon appears in an abridged form in Æthelred of Rievaux (Gen. Regg. X Scriptt. 362), who sarcastically adds that his royal namesake was “fortior solito,” though directly after he calls him, seemingly in earnest, “rex strenuissimus.”

Roger of Wendover (i. 444) transfers the story to the year 1012. In his version Swegen is present in England at the time of the death of Ælfheah; the tribute is paid; on its payment the Danes and English made a league of brotherhood to have but one heart and one soul; Swegen goes back to Denmark; then comes the massacre, on which Swegen comes back for his last invasion. The instigator of the massacre was “Huna quidam, regis Ethelredi militiæ princeps, vir strenuus et bellicosus.” The relations between Danes and English women are here, as in John of Wallingford, a chief ground of offence, but they take a somewhat different form; “Dani ... per totam Angliam adeo invaluerant, quod uxores virorum nobilium regni et filias violenter opprimere et ubique ludibrio tradere præsumpserunt.” We hear nothing of the Saturday bath and the other attractions of the Danes. Huna—a man who does not appear in history, but of whom we shall hear again in romance—complains of this state of things, and, by his advice, letters for a general massacre on Saint Brice’s day are sent to all parts, much as in Henry of Huntingdon. The Danes, “qui paullo ante cum Anglis, additio juramento, fuerant confœderati ut pacifice cum illis habitarent,” are massacred; the women too—what women we are not told—are killed with their children, but now both are killed by being dashed against door-posts; “mulieres cum parvulis ad postes domorum allisæ animas miserabiliter effuderunt.” Young men (“quidam juvenes”) take the news to Swegen as before.

Immediately after this, Roger goes on to tell the story of Gunhild in a form founded on that of William of Malmesbury, but with some improvements. Not only Gunhild herself, but her husband and son are hostages (“virago prudentissima, inter Danos et Anglos pacis mediatrix exsistens, obsidem sese cum viro et unico quem habebat filio, Ethelredo regi ad pacis securitatem dedit”), a thing plainly impossible in the case of Pallig. William of Malmesbury had mentioned Eadric in connexion with her death, probably because he looked on Eadric as the author of the whole scheme of massacre. But, as Huna fills that post in Roger’s story, Eadric becomes the special gaoler of Gunhild; “hæc quum fuisset a rege Eadrico duci”—which he was in 1012, though not in 1002—“ad custodiendum commissa.” Her death, by Eadric’s order, and that of Pallig and their son, follow much as in William of Malmesbury.

Here is a good case of the growth of legend, but the growth of legend is not all. It is easy to see from this last account that the massacre of Saint Brice got mixed up with quite different stories belonging to quite different dates, of which I shall have to speak again.

The massacre of Saint Brice may be compared with the two massacres of the Goths recorded by Ammianus, xxxi. 16; Zôsimos, iv. 26, 27, v. 35. The former, which was done “datis tectioribus litteris,” is distinctly approved by both historians; they speak of the “consilium prudens” and ἀγχινοία of Julius, the Eadric of the story, who took care that Theodosius, unlike Æthelred, should not know of his scheme. The second is a massacre of women and children.

NOTE HH. p. 322. ULFCYTEL OF EAST-ANGLIA.

I have some doubt as to the formal position of Ulfcytel. The Latin writers all give him titles equivalent to Earl or Ealdorman. In Florence (1004) he is “magnæ strenuitatis dux East-Anglorum Ulfketel.” So Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 752 C) calls him “Wlfketel dux illius provinciæ,” and William of Malmesbury (ii. 165) “comes Orientalium Anglorum Ulfkillus.” But the Chronicles introduce him at this point without any title, and though he signs several charters, as in this year in Cod. Dipl. iii. 334, in 1005 (iii. 346), and in 1012 (iii. 358), he uses no higher titles than “minister” and “miles.” On the other hand the Chronicles, in recording his death in 1016, seem to call him Ealdorman by implication; “Godwine ealdorman on Lindesige and Ulfcytel on East-Anglum.” And, as we find him gathering the forces of the earldom and summoning and consulting the local Witan, it is plain that he acted with the full authority of an Ealdorman. It has sometimes struck me that he may have been in some way a deputy of Æthelweard who died along with him at Assandun, the son of the former Ealdorman Æthelwine. See Appendix AA.

William of Malmesbury (u. s.) gives Ulfcytel the praise of being one who “solus ex omnibus ... impigre contra invasores restitit.” He evidently made a great impression on the Danes themselves. We see this, not only from the passage in our own Chronicles quoted in p. 321, but from the mention of him in the Sagas. They speak of him, as William of Malmesbury does, by the contracted form Ulfkill or Ulfkell, as Thurcytel becomes Thurkill. He bears the surname of Snilling, the Bold or Quick, and is described in the Knytlinga Saga, c. 15 (Johnstone, 138), as “mikill höfdingi.” His battle of Ringmere in 1010 (see p. 344) is there strangely transferred to the war of Cnut and Eadmund in 1016. He appears again in the Saga of Saint Olaf (Laing, ii. 11; Johnstone, 93), where the battle of Ringmere is mixed up with the apocryphal and unintelligible exploits of Olaf. It should be marked that East-Anglia is called “Ulfkelsland,” just as our Chronicles talk of “Ricardes rice” and “Baldwines land.” We meet him again in the Jomsvikinga Saga, c. 51 (Johnstone, 101), where he is described as ruler of the whole North of England, and as married to Wulfhild daughter of King Æthelred (“Nordr red fyrir Englandi Ulfkell Snillingr, hann átti Ulfhildi dottur Adalrads konungs”). See Appendix SS.

NOTE II. p. 326. THE RISE OF EADRIC.

I describe Eadric as I find him described in contemporary writers. I fully admit that there is much in his character, actions, and general position which is extremely puzzling; but I cannot undertake to be wise above what is written, or to put a theory of my own in the place of the unanimous witness of all our authorities. It has been ingeniously argued that Eadric was simply a forerunner of Leofric, that he represents a Mercian, therefore an intermediate, policy, which was misunderstood or misrepresented by West-Saxon writers. But all our authorities, West-Saxon as well as Mercian, agree in giving Leofric a very good character; all our authorities, Mercian as well as West-Saxon, agree in giving Eadric a very bad character. He has been called a “Trimmer,” and, as such, he has been likened, not only to the Leofric of the generation following his own, but to the Halifax of a much later age. The obvious answer is that neither Leofric nor Halifax was ever charged with going about murdering people in various parts of the kingdom. Now, as I have already said (see p. 417), many of the particular crimes laid to the charge of Eadric are open to much doubt; but the evident general belief that, whenever any mischief was done, Eadric must have been the doer of it, points to an universal estimate of his general character which cannot have been mistaken.

The first mention of Eadric in the Chronicles is on his appointment to the Ealdormanship of Mercia in 1007. He there comes in without any notice of his character or parentage, but the opinion which the Chroniclers had of him is shown plainly enough in other passages, as when the death of Sigeferth and Morkere is described in 1015 and the battle of Assandun in 1016. Florence first introduces him as “dolosus et perfidus Edricus Streona,” in 1006, when he records the murder of Ælfhelm. William of Malmesbury, as we have seen in the last Note, attributes to him the murder of Gunhild in 1002, and perhaps the whole plot for the destruction of the Danes. Florence gives a fuller character of him in 1007, when recording his appointment as Ealdorman. It runs as follows;

“Rex Edricum supra memoratum, Ægelrici filium, hominem humili quidem genere, sed cui lingua divitias ac nobilitatem comparaverat, callentem ingenio, suavem eloquio, et qui omnes id temporis mortales, tum invidia atque perfidia, tum superbia et crudelitate, superavit, Merciorum constituit ducem.”

These words of Florence seem to have been before William of Malmesbury, when, in his general picture of the reign of Æthelred (ii. 165), after speaking of the treasons of Ælfric, whom he confounds with the son of Ælfhere, he goes on,

“Erat in talibus improbe idoneus Edricus, quem rex comitatui Merciorum præfecerat; fæx hominum et dedecus Anglorum, flagitiosus helluo, versutus nebulo, cui non nobilitas opes pepererat, sed lingua et audacia comparaverat [“non” and “sed” are left out in some manuscripts, but they are clearly needed to make up the sense]. Hic dissimulare cautus, fingere paratus, consilia regis ut fidelis venabatur, ut proditor disseminabat. Sæpe, ad hostes missus pacis mediator, pugnam accendit. Cujus perfidia, quum crebro hujus regis tempore, tum vel maxime sequentis apparuit.”

Henry of Huntingdon too, whose authority is of the most varying degrees of value, but who always represents an independent tradition, says (M. H. B. 752 E), in recording Eadric’s appointment to the ealdormanship, “Dei providentia ad perniciem Anglorum factus est Edricus dux super Merce, proditor novus sed maximus.”

The surname of Streona comes, as we have just seen, from Florence. Eadric also appears as Heinrekr or Airekr Strióna in Snorro (Johnstone, 98), and in another Saga (101), where we are astounded at finding him made a brother of Emma. (The name Henry, in any of its forms, is hardly English, but we find in Cod. Dipl. iii. 87 a “Heanric minister,” perhaps one of the Old-Saxons favoured by Eadgar.) In Orderic too (506 B) a later Eadric is said to be “nepos Edrici pestiferi ducis cognomento Streone, id est acquisitoris.” The nickname evidently alludes to his great accumulations of property.

To trace Eadric and his father Æthelric by the charters is not easy, as neither name is uncommon. Thus we find in Cod. Dipl. iii. 304, a will of a certain Æthelric in Essex, made in 997, in which an Eadric is mentioned, who however seems not to be his son but his tenant. This Æthelric lay under suspicion of treasonable dealings with Swegen at the time of his first invasion in 994 (“ðam kincge wæs gesæd ðæt he wǽre on ðám unrǽde, ðæt man sceolde on Eást-Sexon Swegen underfón ða he ǽrest þyder mid flotan com”). See Cod. Dipl. iii. 314, a document which the combined signatures of Archbishop Ælfric (see p. 292) and Ealdorman Leofsige (see p. 313) fix to some date between 995 and 1002. Another Æthelric distinguished himself in quite an opposite way in the same part of the world, for he appears as one of the heroes of Maldon (see Thorpe, Analecta, p. 139). This last is probably the Æthelric “minister” and “miles,” who signs many charters from 987 to 1006 (see Cod. Dipl. iii. 228–351). In the last charter, if it be genuine, he describes himself as “the old”—“Æðelric ealda trywe gewitnys.” This is not unlikely to be the Æthelric who appears as a legatee in the will of Wulfric Spot, Cod. Dipl. vi. 148. Then there are one or more churchmen of the name, who, with the titles of “clericus,” “diaconus,” and “monachus” sign a vast number of documents of Archbishop Oswald and his successor Ealdwulf from 977 to 996 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 159–296), and one of whom possibly goes on till 1017 (see Cod. Dipl. vi. 177). I almost suspect that it is in one of these clerical Æthelrics that we are to look for the father of Eadric. It is certain that, among the many persons to whom Archbishop Oswald grants Church lands on the usual terms for three lives, three separate grants are made to a Thegn of his named Eadric. See Cod. Dipl. iii. 164, 216, 241. The dates are 977, 985, 988. May not these be the beginnings of the traitor? An Eadric also appears in Cod. Dipl. iii. 293, and another in vi. 127; but the latter at least is not our Eadric, as he was dead before 993.

The first signature which seems likely to be that of the future Ealdorman is one in 1001 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 317) as “Eadric minister.” He signs many charters by that title, including two (vi. 143) in company with a namesake of the same rank. In 1007 (vi. 157, 159) he of course begins to sign as “dux.” The charter of 1004 (vi. 151) where he appears as “dux” cannot be genuine, as King Æthelred, Archbishop Æthelnoth, and Ealdorman Brihtnoth are made to sign together. Lappenberg also (431, note 2. The passage is left out in Mr. Thorpe’s translation) quotes a charter of Eadgar in 970 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 56) as containing the signatures of Eadric and most of his brothers. But it is quite impossible that this can be our Eadric. Mr. Kemble marks the Latin version, in which alone the signatures occur, as spurious. The English version, which he accepts, has no signatures.

That Eadric rose to power by the fall of Wulfgeat is nowhere said in so many words; but the confiscation of the goods of Wulfgeat and the first mention of Eadric are put by Florence significantly near to one another. Wulfgeat signs a great many charters from 986 to 1005 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 224–345 and vi. 154). But he nowhere appears with any higher title than “minister,” except in one document of 996 (Cod. Dipl. vi. 136) where he appears as “dux.” I suspect that Wulfgeat, as well as Eadric, rose in the beginning through the favour of Archbishop Oswald. At least Oswald grants lands in Worcestershire to a knight of his of that name (“sumum cnihte ðám is Wulfgeat noma,” Cod. Dipl. iii. 259). This was in the reign of Eadward. The confiscation of Wulfgeat’s goods is recorded in the Chronicles for 1006 without remark; “And on þam ilcan geare wæs Wulfgeate eall his ár óngenumen.” Florence says, “Rex Ægelredus Wlfgeatum Leovecæ filium, quem pene omnibus plus dilexerat, propter injusta judicia et superba quæ gesserat opera, possessionibus omnique honore privavit.” There is also a charter of 1006 (Cod. Dipl. vi. 160), in which we find a notice of Wulfgeat as marrying one Ælfgifu the widow of Ælfgar (was this Ælfgar the son of Ælfric?) and as holding some lands which had been taken by Ælfgar from the monastery of Abingdon. His wife is described as sharing both in his crimes and in his fall; “Qui ambo crimine pessimo juste ab omni incusati sunt populo caussa suæ machinationis propriæ, de qua modo non est dicendum per singula, propter quam vero machinationem quæ injuste adquisierunt omnia juste perdiderunt.” Another charter of 1015 (Cod. Dipl. vi. 169) is more express. In this Æthelred grants to Brihtwold the Bishop of the diocese (who succeeded in the year of Wulfgeat’s disgrace), the lands of Wulfgeat at Chilton in Berkshire (“illo in loco ubi solicolæ appellativo usu Cildatun nominant”). Here we read, “Nam quidam minister Wulfget vulgari relatu nomine præfatam terram aliquando possederat; sed quia inimicis regis se in insidiis socium applicavit, et in facinore inficiendi etiam legis satisfactio ei defecit, ideo hæreditatis suberam penitus amisit, et ex ea prænominatus episcopus præscriptam villulam, me concedente, suscepit.” The estate was not given to the see, but to Brihtwold personally, with power to bequeath it. I cannot identify Wulfgeat’s father, which makes it the more probable that he was, like Eadric, a man of low birth.

The appointment of Eadric to the Mercian ealdormanship in 1007 is distinct in all the Chronicles and in Florence. His marriage with the King’s daughter Eadgyth took place before 1009, when Florence speaks of him as the Kings son-in-law, “gener ejus, habuit enim in conjugio filiam ejus Edgitham.” His elevation to the ealdormanship is the most natural date for the marriage. There may perhaps be some reference to this marriage in the wonderful declamation of Walter Map against Æthelred (De Nugis, 202). He charges him with systematically preferring slaves to freemen, and giving the daughters of nobles to “rustici,” that is, in the language of his day, villains. By “servi” and “rustici” he most likely means merely ceorls. “Superbus servi oculus et insatiabile cor in ipsius beneplacito ministrabat.”

NOTE KK. p. 329. THE SUCCESSION OF THE NORTHUMBRIAN EARLS.

I did not come across Mr. Robertson’s “Scotland under Early Kings” till the greater part of the first edition of my first volume was printed. I had therefore no opportunity, till towards the end of the volume, of making any use of his excellent note on the Danelage (ii. 430), which is one of the best parts of his work. The history of Northumberland from the ninth century onwards is there traced out with greater clearness and probability than I have ever seen it dealt with elsewhere. His great point, which he seems to me fully to establish, is, that at the great conquest of Northumberland in Ælfred’s time, Deira only was actually divided and occupied by the Danes, while Bernicia, into whatever degree of subjection it may have been brought to the Danish power, still remained occupied by Englishmen, and under the immediate government of English rulers. The local nomenclature, as Mr. Robertson shows, bears out this view, and it also explains the otherwise puzzling fact that that part of old Northumberland which is quite away from the Humber has kept the name of Northumberland to this day, an usage which certainly began as early as the eleventh century (see Chron. Wig. 1065 and Sim. Dun. 80). Indeed Simeon (147) distinguishes “Eboracum” and “Northimbri” as early as 883; but he is doubtless using the language of his own time, as he is not following the earlier Northumbrian Chronicle. With these Anglian rulers of Bernicia I have no concern till the Commendation of 924, when the “son of Eadwulf,” and again in 926 “Ealdred Eadulfing,” appears among the princes who submitted to Æthelstan. Ealdred’s son was Oswulf, who signs two charters of Eadred in 949 as lord of Bamburgh, “Osulf ad bebb. hehgr̃” (Cod. Dipl. ii. 292), and “Osulf bebb.” (ii. 296). The abbreviation “hehgr̃” stands, according to Mr. Robertson, for heah-gerefa. And I can certainly suggest nothing better, though it is strange to find so purely ministerial a title applied to one who seems to have been rather a vassal prince than a mere magistrate. In 954, on the final conquest of Northumberland by Eadred, Oswulf seems to have exchanged this infinitesimal kind of kingship for the earldom over both provinces. See Sim. Dun. 204, who goes on to mention the division of the two earldoms between Oswulf and Oslac; “Qui [Osulfus] postea regnante Eadgaro socium accepit Oslacum. Deinde Osulfus ad aquilonalem plagam Tinæ, Oslac vero super Eboracum et ejus fines curas administrabat.” The appointment of Oslac is noticed by three of the Chronicles in the year 966, and his banishment in 975 is recorded in prose and lamented in verse. The next Earl was Waltheof, who seems to have been a son of Oswulf, and I gather from the words of Simeon (204)—“His [Osulfo et Oslaco] successit “Walthef senior””—that he again held both earldoms. But they must have been again dismembered at some time before 993, when Ælfhelm, who had signed as “minister” in 985 (Cod. Dipl. vi. 121), begins to sign as “dux” (iii. 271). An earlier signature as “Comes” in 990 (iii. 251) is doubtful. Cf. iii. 253. In 997 (iii. 304) he signs as “Norðanhumbrensium provinciarum dux.” The only signature of Waltheof himself that I know of is one of “Wælðeof dux” in 994 (iii. 280). That Uhtred (p. 329) held both earldoms on the deposition of his father and the murder of Ælfhelm seems plain from the words of Simeon (80), “Rex Ethelredus, vocato ad se juvene præfato, vivente adhuc patre Waltheof, pro merito suæ strenuitatis et bello quod tam viriliter peregerat, dedit ei comitatum patris sui, adjungens etiam Eboracensem comitatum.” This last was evidently the earldom made void by the death of Ælfhelm.

The death of Uhtred and the bestowal of the Northumbrian earldom on Eric the Dane by Cnut I have mentioned at pp. 379, 524. Mr. Robertson (i. 95, ii. 442) seems to confine the Northumbrian government of Eric to Deira, while he extends his frontier southward as far as Watling-Street. But the fourfold division of England implies that Eric ruled over all Northumberland. On the other hand, Simeon (81), speaking in his own person (see Stubbs, Preface to R. Howden, i. xxx), in a marked way confines the government of Ealdred, the successor of Eadwulf, to Bernicia. “Aldredus, quem prædictus comes Ucthredus genuerat ex Ecfrida Alduni episcopi filia, ... solius Northumbriæ comitatum suscepit, patrisque sui interfectorem interfecit Turebrandum.” “Northumbria,” it will be seen, is here used in the most modern sense. The obvious inference is that Eadwulf ruled at first in Bernicia only and under the superiority of Eric, but that, on Eric’s banishment, he succeeded to the government of all Northumberland immediately under the King. Simeon gives us no dates, and Siward’s accession to Deira may have followed the death of Eadwulf Cutel. Everything looks as if the reign of Ealdred was very short.

One question remains as to Thored, who signs as “dux” in 979, 983, and 988 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 171, 198, 237), and in the Chronicles (992) is distinguished as “Þored eorl” from “Ælfric ealdorman.” He was therefore in all probability Earl of Deira or Yorkshire (see Robertson, ii. 441). He is doubtless the same as Thored the son of Gunner, who, according to the Chronicles, harried Westmorland in 966, and, according to some accounts (see below, Note SS), he was the father of Æthelred’s first wife. He was no doubt succeeded by Ælfhelm in 993, and he must himself have been appointed as early as 979. Mr. Robertson conjectures that he succeeded on the banishment of Oslac in 975. But we have seen that Waltheof then succeeded to both earldoms. My conjecture therefore is that the two earldoms were again separated on the accession of Æthelred, Deira being given to Thored. If Æthelred really married Thored’s daughter, this is still more likely.

There can be no doubt that Eorl (see p. 407) is the proper title of a governor of Deira (see Cod. Dipl. ii. 293, and the Laws of Eadgar, Schmid, 198). But the Chronicles do not always observe the distinction. The pointed marking out of Thored as “eorl” and Ælfric as “ealdorman” is an unusual piece of accuracy, and though Oslac, when his banishment in 975 is recorded, is called “se mæra eorl,” yet his appointment in 966 is expressed by the words “feng to ealdordome.”

NOTE LL. p. 339. THE ASSESSMENT OF 1008.

The Abingdon and Peterborough Chronicles for 1008 have, “Hér bebead se cyng þæt mán sceolde ofer eall Angelcyn scypu fæstlice wyrcan; þæt is ðonne; of þrim hund hidum and óf tynum ænne scegð, and of viii hidum helm and byrnan.”

So Florence; “Rex Anglorum Ægelredus de cccx cassatis unam trierem, de novem vero loricam et cassidem fieri, et per totam Angliam naves intente præcepit fabricari.” So Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 753 A) and Lappenberg, ii. 170.

But the Worcester Chronicle (Cott. Tib. B. iv.) reads “of þrym hund scipum and x bé tynum anne scægð.” I quote Mr. Earle’s note, without confidently pledging myself to his interpretation, further than that I feel sure that the assessment must have been made by shires in some shape or other. If anything else were needed to prove it, the bequest of Ælfric so appositely quoted by Mr. Earle, and which I have not scrupled to mention in the text, would alone be enough.

“In this rating of land for raising a navy, the numbers are so unconformable to the statistical numbers preserved elsewhere, and so incommensurate with each other, that they must be received with suspicion. All the texts agree, except D [the Worcester Chronicle], which, of all extant texts, is probably the nearest to the source. In the confusion of the text of D, may possibly be found materials for a future emendation.

“But, taken at its worst, the annal is rich in interest. We learn the curious fact, that it was incumbent on each of the landed subdivisions, to provide the king with a ship and its armour. The government did not levy ship-money, but required each county to find its quota of ships. This would apply as well to the inland districts, as to those on the sea-board. And here we find the explanation of an otherwise inexplicable bequest of good Abp. Ælfric, who died two years before this date. He gave one ship to the folk of Kent, and one to Wiltshire. The will is in Cod. Dipl. 716 [iii. 351]. Doubtless, in each of the cases, the bequest was intended as an alleviation of the heavy imposts under which the people groaned. His gift being to the shire, is an argument that the assessment was by shires. It appears to me probable that each shire had to furnish one ship for every three Hundreds contained in the shire. Thus a shire containing thirty Hundreds would have to furnish ten ships. (Accordingly, D may be right: of þrym hund scipum: ? = of three Hundreds—=Hundertschaften=.) This burden would fall on the whole body of the people, according to their rating. But the wealthy landowners had a special burden besides. He who had property up to or over the extent of ten hides, would have to furnish a scegð—and every thane under ten hides, had to furnish a helmet and breastplate.”

The scegð, according to Mr. Earle and Dr. Schmid, seems to be a smaller kind of vessel. It is a pity that even Florence was so far carried away by the wish to appear classical as to talk about triremes, instead of using words which might express the different kinds of vessels spoken of.

On Mr. Earle’s showing, the special imposts laid on the great landowners would exactly answer to the Attic λειτουργίαι. But it tells somewhat against his interpretation that both Florence and Henry of Huntingdon follow the reading of the other manuscripts. In any case I must confess that I do not clearly understand about the helm and breastplate.

NOTE MM. p. 343. WULFNOTH OF SUSSEX.

Most writers assume that “Wulfnoth Child the South-Saxon,” as he is called in all the Chronicles, was at once the nephew of Eadric and the father of Earl Godwine. These questions I shall discuss in a later Note, specially devoted to the origin of the Earl. I will only say here that it seems to me that, whoever was the father of Godwine, Florence did not intend to identify the Wulfnoth who, he says, was nephew to Eadric, with Child Wulfnoth the South-Saxon.

That Brihtric, the accuser of Wulfnoth, was a brother of Eadric rests on the authority of all the Chronicles. They all call him “Brihtric, Eadrices broðor ealdormannes.” Florence gives him the character of being “homo lubricus, ambitiosus, et superbus,” and adds that the accusation was unjust. He had also just before given the following list of the brothers of Eadric or sons of Æthelric; “cujus fratres exstiterunt Brihtricus, Ælfricus, Goda, Ægelwinus, Ægelwardus, Ægelmærus, pater Wlnothi, patris West-Saxonum ducis Godwini.” The charters are full—take for instance Cod. Dipl. iii. 355 and vi. 164, 166—of signatures which may be the signatures of those brothers. But all the names are common, except perhaps Goda, unless it be a short form of Godric or Godwine. For instance, one charter in Cod. Dipl. iii. 345, 346 is signed by three distinct Brihtrics, all with the rank of “minister.” In one place (iii. 351), if the document be genuine, “Byrhtríc cinges þegen gewitnys” signs between Eadric and one who may be their father (see above, p. 656). In vi. 155 we have a “Bríhtric reáda” in Dorsetshire, and in the Chronicles (1017) a “Brihtric Ælfehes suna on Defenascire,” who may be the same as the Brihtric of Dorset, but who is of course different from the brother of Eadric. Of Æthelweards we find several in the early days of Cnut. It seems in vain to try to make out anything more about the family; except that, according to Orderic (506 B), Eadric the Wild, so famous sixty years later, was Eadric’s nephew or grandson—“nepos Edrici pestiferi ducis.”

The title of “cild” or “child” given to Wulfnoth is a puzzling one. Florence translates it by “minister,” as if it were the same as Thegn; Henry of Huntingdon by “puer nobilis.” It is found in one other place only in the Chronicles, namely in 1074, where it is applied to the younger Eadgar, as if it were the same as Æðeling. We have seen it (see above, p. 641) as the title of one of the Ælfrics, who in English is “cild” and in Latin “cognomento Puer.” Several men bear the title in Domesday, as “Alnod cilt” (2 et al.), Eadwine, miscalled Godwine, Abbot of Westminster (146), Edward “cilt,” a man of Earl Harold (146, 148, 212, 336b, 340), and several others, Brixi, Eadwig, Leofric, Leofwine, and others, whom I do not profess to identify. See Ellis, ii. 68. In a deed of Bishop Ælfwold T. R. E. in Cod. Dipl. vi. 196, we find the signature of a “Dodda cild” (see vol. ii. Appendix G), seemingly a kinsman of Earl Odda. From all these examples, and from the later use of the word, “Childe Waters” and the like, one would think that “cild” was in some way or other a title of honour, though it is not at all easy to see exactly what it implied in the way of rank or office. On the other hand we find an Æthelric (Æilricus) “cild,” as also an Eadwine “cniht,” among the inferior tenants of Battle Abbey. Chron. de Bello, 14, 15.

The story of Wulfnoth, as well as his personality, is puzzling. We hear nothing of the nature of the charge against him or of the punishment which seems to have been designed for him. In the Chronicles we simply read that the accusation was brought and that Wulfnoth took to flight and began to plunder. Florence says “ne caperetur, mox fugam iniit.” Henry of Huntingdon, who does not mention the charge brought by Brihtric, says “Rex exsulaverat Wlnod.” So William of Malmesbury (ii. 165), who brings the story in only casually, in his general picture of the reign of Æthelred. He says nothing of the flight of Wulfnoth or the pursuit of Brihtric. He mentions the storm and adds, “Paucæ de reliquiis multarum factæ, impetu cujusdam Wulnodi, quem rex exlegatum ejecerat, submersæ vel incensæ.” Nor have we the least hint given as to whither Wulfnoth went, or what he did, after he had burned the hundred ships. He may have joined the Danes or have done anything else in the wiking line; I cannot believe that he went and lived quietly in Gloucestershire. In this uncertainty, modern writers seem to have thought that they had full licence to give play to their imaginations, and the results are remarkable. Mr. St. John for instance and M. de Bonnechose display a minute knowledge of the actions and motives of all parties which certainly cannot be got by the dull process of groping in the Chronicles. Let us hear Mr. St. John (Four Conquests, ii. 21);

“About the vicious and bewildered king, the earl of Mercia and his brethren clung like the fabled serpents about Laocoon. They were seven in all—Edric, Brihtric, Elfric, Goda, Ethelwine, Ethelward, and Ethelmere—and between them was incessantly carried on a reckless struggle for pre-eminence. Being all desirous of monopolizing the favour of Ethelred, they plotted against each other, and pursued their designs with relentless vindictiveness.

“Ethelmere, the youngest of the brothers, had a son, Wulfnoth, who for his courage and capacity had been made Childe of the South-Saxons, a post of great honour and distinction. This excited rancorous envy in the breast of his uncle Brihtric, who, in order to compass his overthrow, accused him of treason to the king. Familiar with the cruel and capricious temper of Ethelred, the young earl effected his escape from London.”

The French writer, M. Emile de Bonnechose (Quatre Conquêtes de l’Angleterre, ii. 17), is almost more remarkable than Mr. St. John. “De nouvelles défections anéantirent bientôt les forces navales des Anglo-Saxons: un de leurs chefs, nommé Wulnoth, père du fameux comte Godwin, prit la fuite avec vingt vaisseaux. Britric, commandant de la flotte, poursuivit le fugitif.” No hint whatever why Wulfnoth fled. Presently (ii. 56) we read of “le service que ce Wulnoth rendit au roi Sweyn en lui livrant une partie de la flotte qu’il commandait et en brûlant le reste,” events of which the Chronicles preserve no mention whatever. More amazing than all, Wulfnoth is elsewhere described (ii. 54) as “churl ou chef des Saxons du sud,” much as if one were to talk of a man being “Roturier or Duke of Montmorency.”

NOTE NN. p. 344. THURKILL THE DANE.

This name, like many others, appears in a fuller form in England than in Denmark. The English bearers of it, all doubtless of Danish descent, are always called Thurcytel. The famous Dane himself always appears, whether in Latin, English, or Danish, in a shortened form, Thurkill or something like it, in various spellings.

Our Thurkill comes before us in very different lights in different accounts. In the Chronicles we first hear of him as commanding the fleet which came in 1009. The three Chronicles all agree in saying that soon after Lammas an innumerable fleet came to Sandwich (“þá cóm sona æfter lafmæssam [“hlammessan,” Petrib.] se úngemætlica únfrið here to Sandwic”), but Abingdon alone adds “þe we heton Ðurkilles here.” Florence distinguishes the fleet of Thurkill from the fleet of Heming and Eglaf (“Danicus comes Turkillus sua cum classe ad Angliam venit: exinde mense Augusto alia classis Danorum innumerabilis, cui præerant duces Hemingus et Eglafus,” &c.). But the two fleets meet in Thanet and sail together to Sandwich. We then hear no more of Thurkill by name till 1013, but it is plain that all the ravages done up to Swegen’s invasion in that year were done by “Ðurkilles here.” In 1013 (see p. 360) we suddenly find him on the English side. He is in London with Æthelred (“forðan þær wæs inge sé cyng Æþelred and Þurcyl mid him”), and directly after (see p. 361) we find him and Æthelred together in the fleet in the Thames. This makes it plain that the forty-five ships which went over to Æthelred in 1012 (see p. 356) were Thurkill’s ships or a part of them. It was plainly then that he changed sides. We hear of his fleet again in 1014, when a Danegeld was paid to it (see p. 371); and again in 1015, when Eadric seduced “the forty ships from the King’s service” (“Eadric ealdorman aspeon þa fowertig scipa fram þam cyningc”). But Thurkill’s name is not mentioned again till 1017 (see p. 407) when Cnut gives him one of the four great Earldoms, namely East-Anglia. In 1020 (see p. 426) he appears along with Cnut at the consecration on Assandun; in 1021 (see p. 428) he is outlawed; in 1023 (see p. 429) he is reconciled to the King and seems to become his lieutenant in Denmark, but we hear no more of him in England.

Florence mentions Thurkill whenever he is mentioned in the Chronicles, except in the account of his reconciliation with Cnut, which appears in the Abingdon Chronicle only. He makes matters somewhat plainer about “the forty ships” in 1015, saying that Eadric “de regia classe xl naves, Danicis militibus instructas, sibi allexit.” He also, in recording Thurkill’s banishment in 1021, adds the name of his wife; “Canutus rex ... Turkillum supra dictum comitem cum uxore sua Edgitha expulit Anglia.” It should be noticed that neither in the Chronicles nor in Florence is there any mention of Thurkill during the wars of Cnut and Eadmund in 1016.

As for the charters we can hardly expect to find him signing during the reign of Æthelred. In Cnut’s time, 1018–1019, we find him signing as “dux” (Cod. Dipl. iv. 1, 3, 6, 9). His signature to the document of Healðegen Scearpa in 1026 (Cod. Dipl. iv. 32) is more puzzling, as it would imply a return of Thurkill to England, of which there is no other trace. But that document, though not marked doubtful or spurious by Mr. Kemble, seems to me most suspicious. Godwine signs as “þegen,” but before all the Earls, and the Earls who sign are Siward, Ælfgar, Thurkill, Leofric, Swegen, Tostig, and Eadred. I cannot identify any Earls Ælfgar and Swegen in the time of Cnut, and the Tostig of those days (see Note WWW) is a half-mythical person. It is very doubtful too (see Note CCC) whether Leofric was an Earl so early as 1026, and Siward seems not to have been an Earl till Harthacnut’s time. I cannot help thinking that an unskilful forger adapted the names from some charter of Eadward, and that Swegen and Tostig are the sons of Godwine moved out of their places. I do not think that we can bring Thurkill back to England without some better evidence than this. We must also take care to distinguish Earl Thurkill from several contemporary Thurkills of lesser degree. There is, for instance, a “Ðurkill minister” who signs in 1023 (iv. 27), and a Thurkill the White (“Ðurcil hwíta”) who figures in a private document at iv. 54. He goes into Herefordshire on the King’s errand along with Tofig the Proud. Of another Thurkill, or the same, there is a long story in the Ramsey History, c. 84.

William of Malmesbury seems to have a special dislike to Thurkill. He mentions him only twice (ii. 176, 181), and both times charges him with being the chief instigator of the murder of Ælfheah, which, from the better authority of Thietmar (see Note PP), we know that he tried to hinder. The first passage runs thus;

“Resederat in Anglia Turkillus Danus, qui fuerat incentor ut lapidaretur archiepiscopus, habebatque Orientales Anglos suæ voluntati parentes. Tam cæteri, dato ab Anglis octo millium librarum tributo, per urbes et agros, quo quisque commodius poterat, dilapsi: quindecim eorum naves cum hominibus regis fidem sequutæ. Turkillus interea regem patriæ suæ Suanum nuntiis accersit ut Angliam veniat.”

This is followed by a rhetorical description, put into Thurkill’s mouth, of the vices and weakness of Æthelred and of England. Here are several manifest misstatements; besides the misrepresentation as to the death of Ælfheah, nothing is plainer than that Thurkill, who stood by Æthelred to the last, did not invite Swegen into England. The only question is whether any trace of truth lurks in the words which seem to attribute to Thurkill a settlement in East-Anglia earlier than his investiture with that earldom by Cnut. The other passage is equally unfair. The removal of Thurkill from England is thus described; “Succedente tempore Turkillus et Iricius, ab Anglia captatis occasionibus eliminati, natale solum petierunt; quorum primus, qui incentor necis beati Elfegi fuerat, statim ut Danemarchiæ littus attigit a ducibus oppressus est.” This last statement is directly contradicted by the Chronicles; but it shows us where William of Malmesbury got his notion of Thurkill, namely from the two tracts of Osbern on the martyrdom of Ælfheah and his Translation. In the latter (Anglia Sacra, i. 144) we get a wonderful account of Thurkill. He is “male audax princeps malorum Thyrkyllus, pauco tempore prædo futurus, sed in æternum damnati spiritus præda mansurus”—a hard fate for the co-founder of Assandun and benefactor of Saint Eadmund’s. He remains in England after the death of Ælfheah, but presently Cnut comes, seemingly on the errand of getting rid of Thurkill and his followers (“Cnut ... diffidens ab illo propter quasdam res male ac perfide actas, quidquid residuum infandi populi esse poterat, sicut tabulæ stilo deleri solent, delevit, ipsumque ducem sex tantummodo navibus munitum in Danamarcam fugavit”). Thurkill goes to Denmark; being suspected of a design to stir up civil wars, he is hunted down and killed, and his body is left unburied (“ne intestina bella moliretur, statim per cuncta regionis illius loca agitatus, ad ultimum ab ignobili vulgo occisus, ferisque et avibus est miserabiliter projectus”). This is plainly the source whence William of Malmesbury got his account of Thurkill’s death; still he knew the history too well to accept Osbern’s introduction of Thurkill (ii. 131) as at first a joint commander with Swegen, and then, after Swegen’s death, his successor (“piratæ ... ducibus Swano et Thurkyllo, principibus Danorum fortissimis, nonnullam terræ Anglorum maculam intulerant. Sed Swano ab omnipotenti Deo terribiliter occiso, Thyrkillus malignæ hæreditatis principatum sortitus est”). Osbern evidently looked on Thurkill as the author of all evil, but he does not again mention him by name. It is worth thinking whether William of Malmesbury’s notion of Thurkill’s settlement in East-Anglia at this time arose from any confusion with the partition which, according to Osbern (see Note PP), was to be made between Eadric and the Danes.

William of Malmesbury’s statement that Thurkill invited Swegen into England probably comes from some confusion with the narrative of the Encomiast. This last writer makes (i. 2) Thurkill go to England by Swegen’s leave to avenge the death of a brother who had been killed there, perhaps in the massacre of Saint Brice. But, once in England, he goes over to the English side, and seemingly obtains some establishment in the country (“meridianam partem provinciæ victor obtinet”). One main object of Swegen’s expedition is said to be to win back, by force or persuasion, Thurkill himself and the forty ships of which he has defrauded his sovereign. We hear however nothing more of him till Swegen is dead. When Cnut goes back to Denmark, Thurkill stays in England (ii. 1). His motives are described at length. He then (ii. 3) goes to Cnut with nine ships, leaving thirty in England, to make his peace with him (“memor quod Sueino fecerat, et quod tunc in terra absque licentia domini sui Cnutonis inconsulte remanserat, cum novem navibus earumque exercitu dominum suum requisivit, ut ei patefaceret quia non contra ejus salutem se recedente remanserit”), and to exhort him to a renewed invasion of England. Cnut accordingly comes, and Thurkill is his right hand man throughout the war with Eadmund.

I do not know whether our Thurkill is the same as “Þorkell Hasi,” brother of Heming and son of Earl Strut-Harold, who accompanies Cnut to England in the Knytlinga Saga, c. 8 (Johnstone, 105). This may be the Heming of Florence, 1009.

The history of Thurkill in our Chronicles seems to hang very well together. Patching it up from Thietmar, I infer that he embraced Christianity before the death of Ælfheah, which he strove to hinder. He then took service under Æthelred, and served him faithfully against Swegen. But I do not know how to cast aside the assertion of the Encomiast that Thurkill was prominent on Cnut’s side during the war with Eadmund. Fabulous as are many of the details, this can hardly be mere invention. He may have changed sides when Eadric beguiled the Danes in the English service in 1015 (see above, p. 376), or after Æthelred’s death, at the Southampton election of Cnut.

Thurkill married (see Florence, 1021) an Englishwoman named Eadgyth. Lappenberg (ii. 197, 207) makes her the widow of Ulfcytel, therefore a daughter of Æthelred. But the name of Ulfcytel’s wife seems to have been Wulfhild (see above, p. 654, and Lappenberg, ii. 168), while Eadgyth the daughter of Æthelred was certainly the wife of Eadric. I suspect that it was Eadric’s widow whom Thurkill married. At the same time I cannot lay my hand on any authority for Thurkill’s wife being a daughter of Æthelred; but it is very likely, and such a connexion would account for Cnut’s jealousy of him (see p. 415).

NOTE OO. p. 347. WULFRIC SPOT.

Wulfric appears in the Chronicles simply as “Wulfric Leofwines sunu” without any further description. So in Florence he is simply “Wlfricus Leofwini filius.” He signs a charter of 1002 (Cod. Dipl. vi. 146) as “minister.” In the confirmation of his will by Æthelred (Cod. Dipl. iii. 332) he is described as “nobilis progeniei minister Wlfricus.” He and all the other men who were slain at Ringmere all come in the Chronicles under the head of “feala oðera godra þegna.” I should infer from this that he never held the rank of Ealdorman; but he is called “consul” by Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 753 C) and Bromton (X Scriptt. 888). So the Burton Chronicle printed in the Monasticon, iii. 47, calls him “illustris et præpotens consul ac comes Merciorum Wulfricus Spott regali propinquus prosapiæ.” The Burton Annals however (Luard, Ann. Mon. i. 183) are satisfied with calling him “quidam nobilis nomine Wlfricus cognomento Spot.” He cannot possibly have been Ealdorman of all Mercia, and if he were a subordinate Ealdorman of one of the shires in which his property lay, he could hardly fail to have been somewhere spoken of as “dux” or “comes.” Sir Francis Palgrave (ii. ccxciii.) suggests that he was Ealdorman of Lancaster, on the strength of his possession of lands between the Ribble and the Mersey. This comes from his will, which is printed in Cod. Dipl. vi. 147. But Lancashire, as a shire, is later than Domesday. The lands between Mersey and Ribble appear there as an appendage to Cheshire, while Lancaster is in Yorkshire. Wulfric’s lands between the Ribble and the Mersey are left to Ælfhelm and Wulfheah, no doubt the murdered Ealdorman and his son, to both of whom other bequests are made as well as to Ælfhelm’s other son Ufegeat. A little way on, he leaves lands “Ælfhelme mínan meáge,” and he afterwards speaks of “Ælfhelm mín bróðor.” This may raise some question as to whether he is speaking of one Ælfhelm or more.

Sir Francis Palgrave (ii. ccxci.) makes Wulfric the son of the person called Leofric the Second, brother of Ealdorman Leofwine and uncle of the famous Earl Leofric. But I do not find this even in the very mythical document on which his genealogical table is founded, and of which I shall have again to speak (see Appendix CCC). The Chronicles distinctly describe Wulfric as the son of Leofwine, that is, not the Ealdorman of that name, but one of the many Thegns who bore it. Thus in Cod. Dipl. iii. 322 (a charter signed by Wulfric himself), we have “Leofwine dux,” as distinguished from “Leofwine minister;” and the confirmation charter of Wulfric’s own foundation is signed by “Leofwine dux” and by two several men described as “Leofwine minister.” It would seem from what I have just quoted that Wulfric was a brother of Earl Ælfhelm, and the Burton Chronicle gives him another brother “dux Alwinus,” that is, Ælfwine or Æthelwine, two not uncommon names, both of which will be found among the signatures, as in Cod. Dipl. iii. 345–6, a document which, I may add, is signed by three Leofwines besides the Ealdorman. Wulfric also makes bequests to a daughter of Morkere and Ealdgyth who was his goddaughter (“ic geann mínre goddóhtor Mórcares and Ealdgyðe ðæt lande” etc.). He mentions only one child of his own, who is spoken of rather mysteriously, without any name, as “my poor daughter” (“ic gean mínre earman dehter”), with a hint that there was something wrong about her. She is to hold the land only while she deserves it (“hwile ðe heo hit geearnian cann”), and Ælfhelm is appointed guardian both of her and of the land. The name of Wulfric’s wife, according to the local Chronicle, was Ealhswith.

The foundation of Burton took place, according to the local Chronicles, in 1004, which is the year of the confirmation charter. Wulfric was buried within his own monastery, not however in the church, but in the cloister; “in claustro monasterii sui antedicti sub arcu lapideo juxta ostium ecclesiæ superioris” (Mon. iii. 47). Ealhswith, who seems to have died before him, as she is not mentioned in the will, was also buried in the cloister, “juxta ostium ecclesiæ inferioris.” It seems then that the cloister had one door into the choir and one door into the nave, that is to say, the ritual choir was west of the crossing. The first Abbot Wulfgeat and his monks came from Winchester; he is said to have lived till 1026, but I doubt whether he signs any charters.

NOTE PP. p. 352. THE TAKING OF CANTERBURY AND THE MARTYRDOM OF ÆLFHEAH.

Of the siege of Canterbury and the martyrdom of Ælfheah—the Alphege of hagiology—we have four distinct accounts. That in the Chronicles of course claims the first place. It was written before 1023, as it speaks of Ælfheah’s body being still at Saint Paul’s and working miracles there, whereas it was translated to Canterbury in 1023. The witness of the Chronicles I of course accept unhesitatingly. And next to it I am inclined to place the narrative in Thietmar of Merseburg, which he heard when it was fresh from the lips of an Englishman named Sewald. He gives a minute account of the martyrdom, which differs a good deal from the popular version, but which falls in very well with the account in the Chronicles, contradicting it in nothing, but explaining it on one or two points. But, oddly enough, Ælfheah is called Dunstan, a strange mistake to have been made by a contemporary, even though a foreigner, but one which shows how great was the fame of Dunstan, and how small the fame of Ælfheah, in Christendom generally. There is also the Life of Ælfheah by Osbern in Anglia Sacra, ii. 122. This is a mere piece of hagiology, in the common style of such lives, and it contains many statements which are untrue or impossible. It is in fact valuable only as affording practice in the art of unravelling the component elements of a romantic story. But the remarkable thing is that the fourth narrative, that of Florence, departs in several important points from the Chronicles and copies either from Osbern, or, what is more likely, from some third source from which Osbern also copied. Florence’s knowledge and good sense kept him from repeating any of Osbern’s grosser absurdities, but he has not improved his narrative by introducing several details which cannot be reconciled with the Chronicles. Simeon simply copies Florence; Henry of Huntingdon follows the Chronicles, with some slight touches from Florence.

The Chronicles (1011) describe the whole event in detail, but they give us only a picture of plunder and captivity, without any mention of slaughter. The Archbishop and the other persons spoken of and a further countless number of clerks and laymen, men and women, were made prisoners (“hi þær genamon inne ealle þa gehadodan men and weras and wif; þæt wæs unasecgendlic ænigum men hu micel þæs folces wǽs”). The word “genamon” which is applied to the mass of the people is the same word which is applied to the Archbishop, who was not put to death till long after, and to others who we know were not put to death at all. The Chronicles then go on to say how the Danes stayed in the city as long as they would, and when they had searched it thoroughly went to their ships (“ðá hí hæfdon þa buruh ealle asmeade, wendon him þá tó scypan”). Then follows a short poem lamenting the captivity of Ælfheah and the wretchedness of the city; but there is not a word to imply any general massacre. Neither is there anything to imply such a massacre in the shorter narrative of Thietmar. But in Osbern (Ang. Sacr. ii. 136, 137) and Florence we get a soul-harrowing account of every possible horror. Men are slaughtered, burned, thrown from the walls, tortured in horrible ways. Women are dragged by their hair and thrown into the fire. Children are tossed on spears or crushed under the wheels of waggons. The whole ends with a systematic decimation of the surviving adult males. By decimation is here meant the slaying, not of one out of ten, but of nine out of ten. This process leaves their lives to four monks and eight hundred laymen. If this is any clew to the population of Canterbury, the monks of the two minsters must have been fewer, and the general population much larger, than one would have expected. The metropolis of England must have gone down, relatively at least, since the eleventh century.

These stories cannot be accepted in the teeth of the speaking silence of the Chroniclers. The narrative of these last is so minute and so pathetic that they could hardly have failed to dwell on the massacre if any massacre had taken place. No doubt some lives were lost; a city was not likely to be taken, least of all by Danes in that age, without the loss of some lives. And here would be material enough for rhetorical hagiologists to work up into the picture given us by Osbern, into which they of course brought in all the horrors that they had ever heard of anywhere.

The reader will perhaps not be inclined to set much store by the authority of Osbern, if he knows the kind of story with which he (ii. 132) introduces the siege. One of the brothers of Eadric, a man “lubricus et superbus” like Brihtric, perhaps Brihtric himself, stirs up the wrath of the thegns of Kent by falsely accusing them to the King, and thereby procuring the confiscation of the estates of many of them. For these misdeeds they kill him and burn his house. Then Eadric, whom the King had made ruler over the whole realm (“totius imperii sui præfectum statuerat”), calls on the King to chastise them. The parts of Eadward and Godwine in a later story are thus transposed. Æthelred refuses to inflict any punishment on the Kentish thegns, affirming the wrong-doer to have been rightfully slain (“jure peremptum”). Eadric then takes the law into his own hands; he collects ten thousand men, who are described as being “optime armati,” and invades Kent at their head. The Kentishmen however resist valiantly, and the expedition fails. He then leagues himself with the Danes (“Danorum conciliabula expetit”) and exhorts them to attack, not Kent only, but the whole of Britain (“ad totius Britanniæ fines invadendos”). He describes the nakedness of the land, how the King—at the age of forty-two—was worn out with years, how the princes and people were all sunk in sloth and luxury. All this happens at a time when Swegen is already dead, and when Thurkill has seemingly succeeded to his power (see above, p. 654). So Eadric and Thurkill agree to divide the kingdom. Eadric is to take the East-Angles, seemingly in addition to his Mercian government, and the Danes are to take the North (“regnum post victoriam æqua sorte dividendum se Orientalibus Anglis principari, illos vero aquilone potiri”). Eadric now joins the Danes in the siege of Canterbury. Thurkill is not personally mentioned, but Eadric presently vanishes from the stage, without any explanation. It might not be hard to resolve this fable into its component parts; it is even possible that Eadric’s attack on the metropolitan city of England is really borrowed from his capture of the metropolitan city of Wales.

A point now arises as to the traitorous churchman who betrayed the city. It is not quite clear whether there were two Ælfmærs or one (see Hook, Lives of Archbishops, i. 466). The Chronicles seem to distinguish Ælfmær the traitor from Ælfmær the Abbot; and Florence distinguishes the traitor as “archidiaconus.” Yet if Ælfmær the Abbot was a different man from Ælfmær the traitor, why should the Danes let Abbot Ælfmær go free, when the Archbishop and the rest were seized? I can only suggest, as seems also to have occurred to Dr. Hook, that the story is the reverse story of that of Cinna the conspirator and Cinna the poet, that the Danes mistook one Ælfmær for the other, and let go the innocent one by mistake.

Abbot Ælfmær undoubtedly kept his abbey, and was afterwards raised to the bishopric of Dorset (W. Thorn, X Scriptt. 1782; Hist. St. Aug. 23, 24). Thorn gives two dates, 1017 and 1022, and makes him resign his see and return to his abbey. He signs various charters of Cnut as Bishop; he also appears as Abbot in a writ of Cnut (Cod. Dipl. iv. 9), addressed to him together with Archbishop Lyfing—therefore before 1020—and Bishop Godwine; also as a witness to the marriage settlement of another Godwine (Cod. Dipl. iv. 10) along with King Cnut and Archbishop Lyfing. We find him also in the doubtful charter of 1023, in Cod. Dipl. iv. 23, 25, where he signs in company with Æthelric, Bishop of Dorset, who otherwise seems to have left off signing in 1009. This Ælfmær must not be confounded with the contemporary Ælfmær, Bishop of the South-Saxons, whose signature also appears to the charter in iv. 25. The annals of his own abbey speak of Ælfmær with great reverence; and, though ordinary traitors might be advanced, a churchman who had had an indirect share in the martyrdom of a saint would hardly meet with any favour at the hands of Cnut or of any one else.

In describing the Archbishop’s martyrdom, I have given no heed to the mythical details in Osbern, but I have formed my narrative from the Chroniclers and Thietmar. There is no contradiction between the two accounts, but each fills up gaps in the other. Thus the statement that Ælfheah first promised a ransom and then refused to pay it comes from Thietmar; this explains the whole story, which otherwise is hardly intelligible. We thus see, what otherwise we do not clearly see, both why the Danes kept Ælfheah so long in bonds, and why they were so bitterly enraged against him when he finally refused to pay. And we can easily see why this part of the story should be left out, as tending somewhat to lessen the martyr’s glory, while it is not easy to see why any one should invent or imagine it. Florence makes the Danes demand a ransom of the Archbishop on one Saturday, and tell him that, if he does not pay it, he shall be killed on the next Saturday (“necem ejus usque ad aliud sabbatum protelant”). He seems to connect the demand with the late vote of the Witan rather than with any promise on the part of Ælfheah himself. The intercession of Thurkill comes from Thietmar; it falls in exactly with his conduct directly after. The words put into his mouth imply that he was already a Christian, which he certainly was, and a zealous one, before long. William of Malmesbury, the consistent persecutor of Thurkill, must be uttering mere calumnies when he says that he was “incentor ut lapidaretur archiepiscopus.” I accept from Florence the name and motive of the Dane Thrim or Thrum, who cleft the Archbishop’s head. The Chronicles simply mention the fact. “Ðrim miles,” “Ðrym dux,” “Ðrim eorl” is a signature attached to more than one charter of Cnut (Cod. Dipl. iv. 17, 23, 25). The documents are suspicious; the title of Earl is specially suspicious. But no one would have invented a signature of Thrim, unless he had seen it attached to some genuine document.

Lappenberg (ii. 177 Thorpe) has some good remarks on the impossibility of Osbern’s general story, though he accepts his account of the horrors at Canterbury. Mr. St. John (ii. 30) amusingly takes Lappenberg to task for “misinterpreting Florence and the Saxon Chronicle.” The truth is that Lappenberg did not misinterpret anything, but that Mr. St. John failed to consult Thietmar, though Lappenberg gave him the reference. Sir Francis Palgrave, when he wrote his small history (p. 297), swallowed the whole tale about Eadric and his brother. M. de Bonnechose (ii. 17) has much to tell us about “un chef farouche nommé Turchtill,” but he does not take him to Canterbury.

As Thietmar’s account of the martyrdom is well worth reading, and as his work is much less accessible than most of my authorities, I transcribe it in full;

“Percepi quoque a relatu prædicti hominis Sewaldi factum miserabile ac idcirco memorabile, quod perfida Northmannorum manus, duce ad hoc Thurkilo, Cantuariæ civitatis egregium antistitem, Dunsten nomine, cum cæteris caperent, et vinculis et inedia ac ineffabili pœna, more suo nefando, constringerent. Hic humana motus fragilitate, pecuniam eis promittit, et ad hanc impetrandam inducias posuit, ut si in his acceptabili redemptione mortem momentaneam evadere nequivisset, semet ipsum gemitibus crebris interim purgaret, hostiam Domino vivam ad immolandum. Transactis tunc omnibus designatis temporibus, vorax picarum charybdis Dei famulum evocat, et sibi promissum celeriter persolvi tributum minaciter postulat. Et ille, ut mitis agnus, ‘Præsto sum,’ inquit, ‘paratus ad omnia quæ in me nunc presumitis facere; ac Christi amore, ut suorum merear fieri exemplum servorum, non sum hodie turbatus. Quod vobis mendax videor, non mea voluntas, sed dira efficit mihi egestas. Corpus hoc meum, quod in hoc exsilio supra modum dilexi, vobis culpabile offero, et quid de eo faciatis in vestra esse potestate cognosco; animam autem meimet peccatricem Creatori omnium, vos non respicientem, supplex committo.’ Talia loquentem profanorum agmen vallavit, et diversa hunc ad interficiendum arma congerit. Quod quum eorum dux Thurcil a longe vidisset, celeriter accurrens: ‘Ne, quæso, sic faciatis!’ infit. ‘Aurum et argentum, et omne quod hic habeo vel ullo modo acquirere possum, excepta navi sola, ne in christum Domini peccetis libenti animo vobis omnibus trado.’ Tam dulci affatu infrenata sociorum ira, ferro et saxis durior, non mollitur, sed effuso innocenti sanguine placatur, quem communiter capitibus boum et imbribus lapidum atque lignorum infusione protinus effundunt. Inter tot frementium impetus potitus est cœlesti jucunditate, ut signi sequentis efficacia protinus testatur.” (Pertz, iii. 849.)

NOTE QQ. p. 360. THE KINGSHIP AND DEATH OF SWEGEN.

That Swegen was acknowledged as King over England seems to be beyond doubt. The Chronicles (1013) say, “And eall þeodscipe hine hæfde þa for fulne cyning.” So Florence; “Ab omni Anglorum populo rex, si jure queat rex vocari, qui fere cuncta tyrannice faciebat, et appellabatur et habebatur.” So Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 754 D); “Suain vero ab omni populo habebatur pro rege;” and again, “Suain jam rex Anglorum.” So, among later writers, Roger of Wendover (i. 447), “Regem Angliæ se jussit appellari;” and Bromton (X Scriptt. 892), “Swanus jam rex Anglorum factus.” William of Malmesbury (ii. 177) loses himself in fine writing; “tota jam Anglia in clientelam illius inclinata.”

On the other hand the English writers are specially fond of giving Swegen the name of Tyrant, a name, it must be remembered, which still keeps the meaning which became familiar in the third century (see p. 137), that of “usurper” or “pretender.” We have already seen Florence use the adverb “tyrannice,” and under the year 1014 he begins the account of Swegen’s death with the words, “Suanus tyrannus, post innumerabilia et crudelia mala, quæ vel in Anglia vel in aliis terris gesserat, ad cumulum suæ damnationis,” &c. So William of Malmesbury (ii. 179), rhetorically describing the evil case of England during Swegen’s occupation, says, “Hæsitabatur totis urbibus quid fieret; si pararetur rebellio, assertorem non haberent; si eligeretur subjectio, placido rectore carerent. Ita privatæ et publicæ opes ad naves cum obsidibus deportabantur, quod non esset ille dominus legitimus, sed tyrannus atrocissimus.” This is developed by Roger of Wendover (i. 448); “Swanus ... tyrannus nequissimus ... evidenter apparet ipsum naturalem non esse dominum [cyne-hlaford] sed tyrannum. Hæsitabat populus quid faceret, quia, si bellum quæreret, ductorem non haberet, si subjectionem eligeret, tyrannum rectorem haberet.” The technical and the rhetorical sense of the word are struggling throughout.

It will be seen at once that the former set of passages are much more distinct than the latter, which are intelligible only on the supposition that something happened, just as in the cases of Cnut and William, which at least passed for a regular election. Florence’s scruple about calling Swegen “rex” seems of itself to imply that he had some kind of formal claim to the title. But I imagine that he was never crowned. The remarkable words of the Chronicles that “all the people held him for full King” almost seem to imply that in strictness he was not full King. This would be exactly the position of a King elected but not crowned. No one hints at a coronation, except perhaps the Encomiast, who tells us (i. 5), “Ubi jam sæpedictus rex tota Anglorum patria est inthronizatus, et ubi jam pene illi nemo restitit, pauco supervixit tempore, sed tamen illud tantillum gloriose.” But if Swegen had been solemnly crowned and anointed, his panegyrist would hardly have contented himself with so vague a word as “inthronizatus.” Florence again (1013) mentions only Ealdormen and thegns as joining in the submission to Swegen, while in the election of Cnut in 1016 he distinctly speaks of Bishops and Abbots as taking a share. And their absence seems implied in a statement of William of Malmesbury (ii. 177), which, though his narrative is evidently inaccurate in many points, is worth notice. This is that Æthelred (p. 361), before he crossed into Normandy, held a meeting of Bishops and Abbots, as being the only people who still clave to him. “Abbates et episcopos, qui nec in tali necessitate dominum suum deserendum putarent, in hanc convenit sententiam.”

This at once brings us to the problem of Swegen’s religion. There seems no reason to doubt the account of his early baptism, his apostasy, his rebellion against his father. The English and German writers seem to know nothing of any reconversion. With Thietmar, for instance, a writer absolutely contemporary, who wrote while the events of 1016 were the last news of the day (see vii. 27, 28; Pertz, iii. 848), Swegen is to the end the “immitis Danorum rex” (vii. 26) and “Suennus persecutor” (28). But the Danish chroniclers assert a repentance and reconversion. So the Chronicle of Eric (Langebek, i. 158) mentions the baptism of Harold Blaatand and the parricidal war of Swegen, without however mentioning Swegen’s early baptism. Thus we read how Swegen “de regno expulsus, tandem ad Christi fidem conversus, baptizatus est et mox, Deo favente, regnum suum recepit.” So the Chronicle of Roskild (i. 376); “Christianis valde inimicus, quos etiam finibus suis expelli præcepit ... tandem Deum cognovit post flagella, quem cœpit quærere eique credere.” We then read how he founded churches and brought Bishop Bernhard from Norway into Scania. So Saxo first (186) describes his persecutions, and then (188) tells of his conversion, how he was “fortunæ sævitia ad amplectendam religionis caritatem adactus.” He too places Swegen’s baptism at this stage; “Quinetiam cunctis circa se rite peractis, lavacri usum promptissimo religionis tenore percepit.” He then, as well as the Roskild Chronicle, goes on to tell of the churches and bishoprics which he founded, and especially how he brought the English Bishop Bernhard from Norway to Lund. But Adam (ii. 53) attributes all this to Cnut. Saxo becomes (191) almost affecting on Swegen’s piety in his old age; “Sveno senilis animæ laboribus fessus, divinis rebus infatigabilem ultimi temporis curam tribuit,” &c. So the Encomiast (i. 5) tells us of the good and Christian advice, as well as the instructions in the art of government, which he gave to his son Cnut before his death; “Præsciens igitur dissolutionem sui corporis imminere, filium suum Cnutonem quem secum habuit advocat, sese viam universæ carnis ingrediendum indicat. Cui dum multa de regni gubernaculo multaque hortaretur de Christianitatis studio, Deo gratias, illi, virorum dignissimo sceptrum commisit regale.”

When we balance the two sets of authorities, I think we shall hardly be inclined to reject the implied witness of the German and English writers in favour either of a careless writer like Saxo or of an abandoned flatterer like the Encomiast. The English legend of his death implies a kind of half belief in the power of Saint Eadmund which is really not unlikely in such a case. It has a kind of parallel in a story of a Danish chief, perhaps the Guthrum-Æthelstan who was found making a vow to Saint Patrick. (See Dr. Todd’s Introduction to the Wars of the Gaedhill and the Gaill, lxiv, lxv, xciii.) We have the like contradictions as to Swegen’s death. The Encomiast goes on to tell us how he prayed his son that his body might be taken to Denmark, and makes incidentally an admission of some importance. Swegen would not be buried in England; “noverat enim quia pro invasione regni illis odiosus erat populis.” He then dies; “Nec multo post postrema naturæ persolvit debita, animam remittendo cœlestibus, terræ autem reddendo membra.” Saxo also (191) makes him die very quietly, perhaps in the odour of sanctity; “Omni humana concussione vacuus, in ipso perfectissimæ vitæ fulgore decessit.” The English story, as it is told by Florence, I have given in the text. The Chronicle records only that “he ended his days.” William of Malmesbury (ii. 179) had heard more stories than one; “pervasor ... ambiguum qua morte, vitam effudit.” He then goes on to tell the story in a form slightly different from that of Florence: Swegen seems to have reached Bury and to be actually harrying the lands of Saint Eadmund; “Dicitur quod terram Sancti Edmundi depopulanti martyr idem per visum apparuerit, leniterque de miseria conventum insolentiusque respondentem in capite perculerit, quo dolore tactum in proximo, ut prædictum est, obiisse.” The Knytlinga Saga, c. 6 (Johnstone, 89), makes Swegen’s death sudden, but says significantly that he died in his bed; “urdo þau tídindi þar, at Sveinn konungr Haralldsson vard bráddaudr um nott í ’reckio sinni.” The tale then goes on to speak of the legend as one told by Englishmen; “Oc er þat sögn Enskra manna, at Eadmundr hinn helgi hafi drepit hann, med þeima hætti sem hinn helgi Mercurius drap Julianum níding.” There is no mention of Saint Mercurius in Florence, but the comparison between Julian and Swegen, according to the English notion of Swegen, is obvious enough, and the name “níding” (= the English “niðing”) applied to Julian is worth notice. In after times Orderic (518 A) attributes the death of Swegen to Saint Eadmund, but without details; “A sancto Edmundo jussu Dei peremptus est.” In Orderic’s eyes Swegen is still “vesanus idololatra.” The same story is told of the Bulgarian King Kalojohannes, who died before Thessalonica in 1207. He was smitten by Saint Dêmêtrios, just as Swegen was by Saint Eadmund. See the Notes to Georgios Akropolites, p. 236 ed. Bonn, and Jireček, Geschichte der Bulgaren, p. 242. There is another tale of the same kind in p. 246.

As for Swegen’s body, Thietmar (vii. 28) says, in a marked but not very clear way; “hujus proles, multum in omnibus patrissantes, dilecti genitoris corpus delatum flebiliter suscipiunt et tumulant, et quidquid dedecoris patri suimet ingeri ab Anglis propositum est, paratis navibus ulcisci studebant.” This must be taken in connexion with the significant remark of the Encomiast quoted in the last paragraph. He presently goes on (ii. 3) to tell us how an English lady (“quædam matronarum Anglicarum”)—had Swegen found his Eadgyth Swanneshals in England?—dug up the body which had been buried in England (“assumpto corpore Sueini regis sua in patria sepulti”), embalmed it, and carried it in a ship to Denmark. She then summoned Cnut and Harold to come and bury their father in the place which he had himself appointed. They come accordingly and bury him honourably in the tomb which he had himself made in the minster of the Holy Trinity of his own rearing (“honorificentiusque illud in monasterio in honore sanctæ Trinitatis ab eodem rege constructo, in sepulcro quod sibi paraverat recondunt”). From the Saga of Olaf Tryggvesson (Johnstone, 101), which says nothing about the manner of Swegen’s death, we find that this minster is Roskild. “Sveirn konungr andadist í Englandi oc færdo Danir han til Danmerkur oc grofo þan í Hroiskeldo hia födr sinum.” The English lady is here left out.

NOTE RR. p. 369. THE SERMON OF WULFSTAN OR LUPUS.

There is, I suppose, no question that the person affectedly described as “Lupus” is really Archbishop Wulfstan. And I have little doubt in fixing the discourse to the year 1014. This is the date given in the heading of one of the manuscripts, while another has 1008. In an insertion in the text itself the discourse is said to have been delivered four years before the death of Æthelred. “Ðis wæs on Æþelredes cyningcs dagum gediht, feower geara fæce ær he forðferde.” This would at first sight look as if the right year were 1012. But the discourse itself contains a passage which shows that it must be later than Æthelred’s flight in 1013. The speaker says (p. 102) that the two most shameful deeds that can be done are to compass one’s lord’s death and to drive him out of the land. Each of these crimes, he says, has been done in England (“ægðer is geworden on ðysum earde”); Eadward has been murdered; we expect the speaker to add that Æthelred has been driven out; but either some words have been lost in the text or else Wulfstan left it to his hearers to fill up the gap for themselves. But in any case the passage would have no force or meaning at any time before Æthelred’s flight. And I am not sure that it is not possible, by a little chronological subtlety, to reconcile the date of 1014 with the other date of four years before the death of Æthelred. The year begins at different times in different reckonings. In a chronology which made the year begin at Lady-day, Æthelred’s death on April 23, 1016 would come in a year 1016–1017, while, if the sermon was preached before March 25, in a year 1013–1014, this might possibly be called the fourth year before the other. It may no doubt have been delivered just at the end of what we should call the year 1013, but the matter of the discourse agrees so well with the matter of the decrees of the Gemót of 1014 that one is strongly tempted to connect the two. It cannot in any case belong to 1012. See p. 361.

It is remarkable how little strictly historical information the speech gives us. Indeed the one historical fact which it mentions is wrong, as Wulfstan says that the body of Eadward the Martyr was burned (“Eadweard man forræde and syððan acwealde and æfter þam forbærnde”). But it is none the less valuable as a picture of the wretchedness of the times, a picture which goes very much into detail in its general descriptions, though without mentioning the names of persons or places. I have summed up most of the chief points in the text. Among the passages which are most worthy of notice are those which relate to the slave-trade. The orator first says (p. 100);

“Earme men syndon sare beswicene and hreowlice besyrwde and ut of þysum earde wide gesealde swyþe unforworhte fremdum to gewealde, and cradolcild geðeowode þurh wælhreowe unlaga for lytelre ðyfðe wide gynd ðas þeode. And freo riht fornumene and ðrælriht genyrwde and ælmesriht gewanode.”

The other passage (102) says;

“Eac we witan full georne hwær seo yrmð gewearð þæt fæder gesealde his bearn wið weorðe, and bearn his modor, and broðor sealde oðerne fremdum to gewealde ut of ðisse ðeode.”

Slavery also brought its own punishment in other ways. The slaves often joined the heathen invaders (“ðeh þræla hwylc hlaforde æthlæpe and of cristendome to wicinge weorðe”); sometimes a thegn’s slave led his own master into slavery (“and oft þræl ðæne ðegen ðe ær wæs his hlaford, cnyt swyðe fæste and wyrcð him to þræle, ðurh Godes yrre”). The lustful excesses of Englishmen, several of whom would hire a harlot in common (p. 102), were avenged by the outrages of the invaders on the wives and daughters of English thegns (“and oft tyne oððe twelfe, ælc after oðrum, scendað and tawiað to bismore micelum ðæs ðegenes cwenan, and hwilum his dohtor oððe nyd magan; þær he onlocað þa læte hine sylfne rancne and rincne and genoh godne ær þæt gewurðe.” p. 103. Cf. Herod, viii. 33). Two or three pirates drove all the people from sea to sea (“oft twegen sæmen oððe ðry hwilum drifað ða drafe Cristenra manna fram sæ to sæ ut ðurh ðæs ðeode gewelede togædere.” p. 103).

Lastly, there is an apparent allusion to the capture of Canterbury and captivity of Ælfheah and others, which certainly falls in better with my notion of that event than with the notion of a general massacre. “We hym gyldað singallice, and hy us hynað dæghwamlice: hy hergiað and hy bærnað, rypað and ræpiað and to scipe lædað.” (p. 103). This almost sounds like the poem in the Chronicles about Ælfheah. One might almost have thought that the speech was made during the time of Ælfheah’s imprisonment, but the manifest allusion to the flight of Æthelred forbids this.

NOTE SS. p. 372. THE CHILDREN OF ÆTHELRED.

The list of the children of Æthelred, among the genealogies given by Florence (i. 275, Thorpe), is manifestly imperfect. He is there said to have had by his first wife Ælfgifu, the daughter of Ealdorman Æthelberht, three sons, Eadmund, Eadwig, and Æthelstan, and one daughter, Eadgyth. He then mentions the two sons of Emma, Ælfred and Eadward, but does not mention Emma’s daughter Godgifu. This list is copied by R. Higden (270) and Knighton (2314), only changing Ælfgifu daughter of Æthelberht into Æthelgifu daughter of Ecgberht. The three sons of the first marriage here mentioned are those who survived to play a part in the history, but it appears from the charters that Ælfgifu, if that was her name, was the mother of several other sons. I quote the doubtful charters along with the genuine ones, as this is the kind of point in which one who either forged a charter or wrote down a lost charter from memory would be sure to reproduce what he had seen in genuine documents. Thus in a doubtful charter of 990 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 250) we have the signatures of Æthelstan, Ecgberht or Ecgbriht, Eadmund, Eadred, Eadwig, Eadgar, and Eadward. All sign with the title of “clito,” which is of course equivalent to Ætheling. In iii. 270, we have Æthelstan, Ecgbriht, Eadmund, and Eadred, all with the title of “regis filius.” At iii. 308, a seemingly genuine charter of 998, we have the “clitones” Æthelstan, Ecgbriht, Eadmund, Eadred, Eadwig. In iii. 314 (999) we have Æhelstan and Eadred. In iii. 321 (1001) Æthelstan, Ecgbriht, Eadmund, Eadred, Eadwig, and Eadgar; and the same list in iii. 325 (1002). At iii. 330, in a doubtful charter of 1004, Æthelstan, as the eldest son, signs on behalf of his brothers. In a genuine charter of the same year (iii. 334) we have the same list which I have already quoted with the omission of the name Eadred. In vi. 142 (1002) we have the same list with the name of Eadred. In another of the same year, vi. 146, the list stands, Æthelstan, Ecgbriht, Eadmund, Eadward, Eadwig, Eadgar. In vi. 153 (1005) the list is Æthelstan, Ecgbriht, Eadmund, Eadric, Eadwig, Eadgar, Eadward. In 1007 (vi. 156) it stands, Æthelstan, Eadmund, Eadred, Eadwig, Eadgar, Eadward. In another of the same year (vi. 159) Æthelstan signs on behalf of all his brothers (“Ego Æðelstanus filius regis cum fratribus meis clitonibus adplaudens consensi”). In a doubtful charter of 1013 (vi. 166) the signatures are Æthelstan, Eadmund, Eadward, Ælfred, and Eadwig, and in a genuine one of 1014 (vi. 169) we have Eadmund, Eadwig, Eadward, and Ælfred. Lastly, in 1015 (vi. 171) we have Eadmund and Eadward only.

From all this it seems certain that Æthelstan was the eldest son and Eadmund the third, the intermediate brother Ecgbriht dying, it would seem, about 1005. It now becomes an important point whether Æthelstan was alive at the time of his father’s death. This I shall discuss in another Note. His will (iii. 361), a very important document, of which I shall have to speak again, is witnessed by Eadmund, and contains bequests both to him and to Eadwig. We may perhaps also infer that Eadred was dead as well as Ecgbriht, and Eadric also, if the single signature of that name be not a mistake. But from the mention of “brothers” (“fratres”) of Eadmund as surviving him (see page 405) one might be inclined to think that one at least of Eadmund’s younger brothers, besides Eadwig, was alive at the beginning of 1017. For Cnut had much more reason to dread opposition from Eadmund’s brothers of the whole blood than from the sons of Emma. And if Æthelstan, Ecgbriht, and perhaps Eadred, were dead, Eadgar might be alive. There would also seem to have been an Eadward a son of the first marriage, as (to say nothing of the doubtful charter of 990, and of that of 984, mentioned below) Eadward the son of Emma could not have signed in 1002, though he might in 1005, if the pen was held in the child’s hand. If so, this elder Eadward doubtless died before the birth of his namesake.

Of the daughters of the first marriage Florence mentions only Eadgyth the wife of Eadric. But we seem to have evidence enough for Wulfhild the wife of Ulfeytel (see p. 654) and for Ælfgifu the wife of Uhtred (see p. 330). We also need a fourth daughter to account for the King’s son-in-law Æthelstan, who died in the battle of Ringmere (see p. 347).

The mother of these children, as I have said, is called by Florence Ælfgifu, the daughter of Ealdorman Æthelberht. I cannot however find any Ealdorman of that name. Æthelred of Rievaux (X Scriptt. 362, 372) calls her the daughter of Earl Thored (see p. 661). William of Malmesbury (ii. 179) professes ignorance of her name, and speaks of her birth as ignoble; “Erat iste Edmundus non ex Emma natus, sed ex quadam alia quam fama obscura recondit.” He then goes on to magnify Eadmund, saying that he was one “qui patris ignaviam, matris ignobilitatem, virtute sua probe premeret si Parcæ parcere nossent.” Roger of Wendover speaks nearly to the same effect in i. 451. I do not understand Lappenberg’s note (431, ii. 163 Thorpe), where he quotes the Scholiast on Adam of Bremen as calling her “Afficud,” which he takes to be Ælflæd. Mr. Thorpe (Dipl. Angl. 542) further identifies her with the Æthelflæd whose will he has there printed. But, at least in Pertz’ edition (ii. 51, Schol. 39), the name is “Afelrud,” and she is described as the step-mother of Eadward the son of Eadgar, that is, of course, Ælfthryth. I would rather identify her with the Ælfgifu whose will appears in Cod. Dipl. iii. 359. This cannot belong to Ælfgifu-Emma, as it speaks of her sister Ælfwaru and her brother’s wife Æthelflæd. (These three names again come together in the will of Wynflæd, Cod. Dipl. iii. 293.) It reads to me like the will of a King’s wife, yet it contains bequests not only to the Ætheling but to the Lady. Mr. Kemble gives it the date of 1012, and a bequest to Bishop Æthelwold (1006–1014) shows that it cannot be far from that date. Several questions arise out of this. Was Æthelred’s first wife divorced to make room for the Norman Lady? Or was she only a mistress or Danish wife? I do not think she is ever called “regina,” and Æthelred of Rievaux seems pointedly to contrast her with “regina Emma.” And again, were all these sons and daughters children of one mother? There is a very strange charter (Cod. Dipl. iii. 204) which must be spurious or at least wrongly dated, as Æthelred, born in 969, cannot have had six sons in 984; but the signatures are worth notice from their very strangeness. They run thus, “Æðelstan,” “Eadgar clito,” “Eadmund frater prædicti clitonis,” “Eadweard clito,” “Eadward filius regis,” “Eadwig frater clitonum.” This does not read like a list of sons of one mother. Lappenberg (u. s.) makes Æthelred marry in his seventeenth year, but I have not found his authority. At any rate his third son Eadmund cannot have been born, as Roger of Wendover (i. 422) tells us, in 981, when Æthelred was twelve years old.

It should again be noticed that in the will of Æthelstan (Cod. Dipl. iii. 363) there is no mention of his mother, living or dead, and that he speaks of his grandmother Ælfthryth as having reared him (“Ælfðryðe mínre ealdormódor ðe me áfédde”). Ælfthryth was living in 999, as appears by her signature in Cod. Dipl. iii. 314; perhaps later, as she (Cod. Dipl. iii. 353) addresses a writ to Archbishop Ælfric who lived to 1006. The young Æthelings and their grandmother are again spoken of in the will of Wynflæd (Cod. Dipl. iii. 292), which, as mentioning Archbishop Sigeric, comes between 990 and 994. But here again is no mention of their mother, unless she lurks among the cloud of witnesses, “Ælfwaru, Ælfgifu, and Æthelflæd,” names which we have just before seen in company.

I am afraid therefore that I must leave the first marriage of Æthelred shrouded in some obscurity. The Scandinavian writers cut the knot by giving all Æthelred’s children to Emma. Thus in the Knytlinga Saga (Johnstone, 130) Cnut is called Eadmund’s stepfather, and again (139) Emma is distinctly called the mother of Eadmund and his brothers. So Snorro (ib. 97), speaking of the Norman Dukes, says expressly that Emma, daughter of Richard and sister of Dukes William and Robert, whomever he may mean, married Æthelred, and was mother of Eadmund, Eadward the Good, Eadwig, and Eadgar (“Eadmundr oc Eadvardr hinn gódi, Eatvígr oc Eatgeir”). It is odd that the last two names should have been remembered.

So Thietmar (Pertz, vii. 28) mistakes Æthelstan and Eadmund for children of Emma. Walter Map, on the other hand (De Nugis, 203), confounds the sons of Emma with their nephews, the sons of Eadmund and Ealdgyth. At least Eadward and Ælfred reached Normandy (see p. 361) only by the help of the Hungarian King. Cnut, having married Emma, tries in vain to find her sons; “Rapuerat enim eos, ut præparavit Altissimus, a tumultu et turbine miles quidam, et clam in cymba positos in portum impulit, et regiis ornatos insigniis cum brevi cognitionis et cognationis eorum dispositioni divinæ supposuit. Illi autem in die secundo a mercatoribus Pannoniæ vagientes inventi sunt, et ab Hungarorum rege redempti, et ad avunculum suum ducem [Normannorum sc.] remissi.” This story is one of a whole class of tales of persons exposed in boats. See Historical Essays, First Series, p. 13.

NOTE TT. p. 381. THE ELECTIONS OF CNUT AND EADMUND.

Cnut may be said to have been three times elected to the crown. The first time is in 1014, on the death of his father Swegen (see p. 367), when the election was made wholly by the Danish fleet, and when the Witan of England passed their vote for the restoration of Æthelred. But on the death of Æthelred he seems to have been more regularly elected by a large portion at least of the English Witan. The fact is not stated in the Chronicles, but it is distinctly affirmed by Florence, and the words of the Chronicles (1016), if carefully studied, will perhaps be found to give the statement of Florence a negative confirmation. It is only the latest and least authoritative version of the Chronicles, the Canterbury manuscript, which states the election of Eadmund to have been an act of the Witan of all England; “And æfter his [Æðelredes] ende ealle Angelcynnes witan gecuron Eadmund to cinge.” The three other Chroniclers seem carefully to mark the act as more partial and local. They say only, “And þá æfter his ende ealle ða witan þá on Lundene wǽron and seo burhwaru gecuron Eadmund to cýninge.” When we remember that London was the only place which still held out, and that Wessex itself was in the power of Cnut, we shall probably have little difficulty in accepting the account in Florence. His words are as follows;

“Cujus [Ægelredi] post mortem, episcopi, abbates, duces, et quique nobiliores Angliæ, in unum congregati, pari consensu, in dominum et regem sibi Canutum elegere, et ad eum in Suthamtonia venientes, omnemque progeniem regis Ægelredi coram illo abnegando repudiantes, pacem cum eo composuere, et fidelitatem illi juravere; quibus et ille juravit quod, et secundum Deum et secundum seculum, fidelis esse vellet eis dominus. At cives Lundonienses, et pars nobilium, qui eo tempore consistebant Lundoniæ, clitonem Eadmundum unanimi consensu in regem levavere.”

I accept then the double election, and there can be no doubt that the election of Eadmund was the earlier of the two. The Witan of his party were on the spot, while those who chose Cnut had to come together from various places to Southampton. The election of Eadmund also seems to have been followed by a coronation, while the election of Cnut answered rather to the submission made to William at Berkhampstead, between which and his coronation at Westminster some little time passed. Florence seems pointedly to exclude a coronation of Cnut, while, though he does not distinctly affirm, he seems rather to imply the ceremony in the case of Eadmund. For he immediately adds, “qui solii regalis sublimatus culmine, intrepidus West-Saxoniam adiit sine cunctatione.” And Eadmund’s coronation in Saint Paul’s by Lyfing appears in three later, but two of them very respectable, authorities. Ralph de Diceto, in his series of Archbishops of Canterbury (Ang. Sacr. ii. 683), says of Lyfing, “Hic consecravit Edmundum Ferreum Latus, et postmodum Cnutonem regem Daciæ.” So Bromton (904), “Londonienses cum nonnulla parte procerum Edmundum filium regis Ethelredi in regem levaverunt, qui a Livingo Dorobernensi archiepiscopo apud Londonias consecratus est.” And in the list of coronations in the Rishanger volume (426) we read,

“Anno gratiæ millesimosexto-decimo, Londoniis, coronatio Edmundi Ferrei Lateris, filii regis Ethelredi, qui in eodem anno proditionaliter interfectus, Glastoniæ est sepultus.

“Anno gratiæ millesimo septimo-decimo, Londoniis, coronatio Cnutonis regis, filii David. Hic vicesimo regni anno mortuus, apud Wyntoniam est humatus.”

I have no notion whatever why Swegen or Otto should be called David; but these entries in Rishanger, though not contemporary, are not the obiter dicta of a man who is carelessly compiling a story, but the assertions of a man who is giving the results of his special inquiries into a special subject. As therefore there is no contemporary authority to set against them, and as they fit in with the slight indication in Florence, I accept them. Lyfing then was one of the Witan who were in London with Eadmund, and he performed the ceremony of Eadmund’s royal consecration at once on his election. But Cnut remained uncrowned till after his second or third election after the death of Eadmund. This was doubtless one reason among others why, in the agreement between Cnut and Eadmund, the Imperial dignity remained with the West-Saxon.

It is worth noticing that both candidates were most likely chosen over the heads of their own elder brothers. Cnut clearly was so chosen at his first election by the Danish fleet. In choosing a successor to Swegen in his conquered kingdom of England, Harold, who succeeded him in Denmark (see p. 366), was passed by in favour of his more promising brother. At the Southampton election Cnut was chosen on the same grounds on which William was afterwards chosen, because he was the conqueror, and a conqueror far more fully in possession of the conquered land than William was in December 1066. If Harold had any share in the war, he was altogether overshadowed by his brother. But was Eadmund the eldest surviving son of Æthelred? We have seen in the last Note that he had two elder brothers, Æthelstan and Ecgbriht. Of these there can be little doubt that Ecgbriht was dead, but the case is not so clear about Æthelstan. One story, which I shall have to examine in the next Note, seems to hint that he took a part in the war of Cnut and Eadmund and died during its course. His will, of which I have already spoken and shall have to speak again, was made during his father’s lifetime, but it does not follow that he died before his father. The point is an obscure one, but it is worth inquiring into, for to choose a younger brother over the head of an elder, though a perfectly legal measure, was a strong and unusual one. If it be the fact, it does equal honour to both brothers. The merits of Eadmund must have been great, if he was thus preferred to an elder brother, while no praise can be too great for the conduct of Æthelstan in quietly accepting and loyally serving a younger brother thus chosen over his own head.

Another question arises as to the ecclesiastical position of Cnut at the time of the Southampton election. It is not very clear when Cnut was baptized; our notices on this point have to be sought for in rather out of the way places. In the Aquitanian history of Ademar, iii. 55 (Pertz, iv. 140), we read, “Rex Canotus de Danamarcha paganus, mortuo Adalrado rege Anglorum, regnum ejus dolo cepit et reginam Anglorum in conjugium accepit, quæ erat soror comitis Rotomensis Richardi, et factus Christianus utraque regna tenuit, et quoscumque potuit ex paganis de Danamarcha ad fidem Christi pertraxit.” Another manuscript adds, “Pater ejus paganus nomine Asquec solum regnum de Danamarca tenuit.” “Asquec” as the name of Cnut’s father seems at first sight as incomprehensible as the name David, but Pertz is doubtless right in hinting that it is a corruption of his nickname Tveskiæg, “Fork-beard,” or, in plain English, Two-shag. The religion of Swegen, as we have seen, is a problem, but the chances are certainly against his son being baptized in his infancy. One Danish Chronicler, as we have already seen (see p. 375), makes Cnut be baptized by Unwan, Archbishop of Bremen, in the middle of his war with Æthelred; and this may seem to draw some confirmation from the statement of the Scholiast on Adam of Bremen, 38 (ii. 50); “Knut, filius Suein regis, abjecto nomine gentilitatis, in baptismo Lambertus nomen accepit. Unde scriptum est in libro fraternitatis nostræ Lambrecht rex Danorum, et Imma regina, et Knut filius eorum, devote se commendaverunt orationibus fratrum Bremensium.” If Cnut was baptized by the name of Lambert, he was none the less always called by his heathen name, just as his father was never known as Otto, nor Rolf as Robert. We also read in Osbern’s tract on the Translation of Saint Ælfheah (Ang. Sacr. ii. 144) that Archbishop Æthelnoth was “regi [Cnutoni] propterea quod illum sancto chrismate livisset valde acceptus.” This cannot refer to his coronation, which was not performed by Æthelnoth, and it can hardly refer to his baptism. I suspect therefore that it refers to confirmation, and that Cnut was confirmed at the time of the Southampton election. His case would thus be very like that of the elder Olaf (see above, p. 290), who was confirmed after a much earlier baptism at the time of his peace with Æthelred. The Christianity of Cnut at the time of that election is plainly implied in the words of the oath put into his mouth by Florence.

The final accession of Cnut after the death of Eadmund forms the first entry in each of the four Chronicles under the year 1017; “Hér on þissum geare feng Cnut kyning tó eallon Angelcynnes [Englalandes, Ab.] ryce.” The Winchester Chronicle alone, in one of its short and occasional entries, says, “Her Cnut wearð gecoren to kinge.” The expression in the other four is probably chosen advisedly; for, as Cnut succeeded by virtue of the terms of the Olney compact, there was no need of any formal election. Florence, whose fuller account I have followed in the text, uses the words expressive of election only in a sort of incidental way; “Ipse juraverunt illi quod eum regem sibi eligere vellent, eique humiliter obedire.” What he chiefly insists on is the examination of the witnesses—false witnesses, as he says they were—to show that Cnut really was entitled to succeed under the compact. Florence divides the details of Cnut’s accession between the two years 1016 and 1017; he might thus be thought to speak of two distinct assemblies; but as there is no trace of more than one in the Chronicles, I am disposed to think that the two accounts are merely two narratives of the proceedings of the same Gemót, perhaps rather unskilfully borrowed from two sources. Florence begins the year on the first of January, and the ordinary session of a Midwinter Gemót, taking in the twelve days of Christmas, would really extend into both years. The coronation of Cnut, like the coronation of Harold, most likely took place on the feast of the Epiphany. We have seen that there is every reason to believe that the ceremony was performed in Saint Paul’s by Archbishop Lyfing. The coronation, it must be remembered, would involve the ecclesiastical election by clergy and people. See vol. iii. p. 627.

How utterly the real story was forgotten, and above all how utterly the true position of Cnut at the time of his father’s death passed out of his mind, is nowhere better shown than in the version of Walter Map (De Nugis, 202). The English, according to him, especially the Londoners, were so tired of Æthelred that they sent for help to Cnut, who, it would seem, had already founded his Northern Empire. “Erat illa tempestate regum omnium ditissimus et strenuissimus Dacorum rex Chnutus. Hic ab optimatibus Angliæ vocatus, et frequentibus epistolis illectus, non invitis sed invitantibus Anglicis et cum gaudio suscipientibus, cum exercitu nimio in Danesiam illapsus est, quæ nunc usque dicitur a Dacis, ut aiunt, Danesia.” (Where is “Danesey”?) Presently, Cnut comes, “ab invitatoribus suis Londoniensibus susceptus.”

NOTE VV. p. 383. THE WAR OF CNUT AND EADMUND.

The English narratives of this great year of battles agree well together on the whole, and I see no difficulty in accepting the story as it is given in them. The part played by Eadric is indeed hard to understand, but so is his career throughout, and I can see no ground for casting aside the unanimous witness of our authorities and placing any arbitrary conjecture in its stead. We have first the narrative in the Chronicles. The three elder versions agree together, with only the smallest verbal differences; the later Canterbury Chronicle gives the story in an abridged shape; Florence, William of Malmesbury, and Henry of Huntingdon, tell essentially the same story. Their versions are plainly grounded on the history in the Chronicles, seemingly with some help from contemporary songs. This is especially plain in Henry of Huntingdon. His narrative of this campaign, like his narrative of the campaign of Stamfordbridge (see vol. iii. p. 733), is a mere meagre abridgement till he reaches the battle of Assandun, when he lights up and gives a spirited account, which evidently comes from a ballad. In all these accounts, whether coming from Chroniclers or from minstrels, the treason of Eadric stands out distinctly. And it stands out no less distinctly in the account given from the Danish side by the author of the Encomium Emmæ, of which I shall speak more presently.

I will now mention a few points in detail, in which the English writers differ from one another, or which call for attention on any other ground.

It is, I think, plain that Eadmund, on leaving London, was at once accepted by the West-Saxons, or such part of them as he had been able to reach before he was overtaken by Cnut at Penselwood. These would be the forces of Somerset, Dorset, Devonshire, and part of Wiltshire. This we gather from Florence’s account of the battle of Sherstone. The Chronicle says distinctly, “Eadmund cyng ... gerad þa Westsexon, and him beah eall folc tó.” So Florence more fully, “Intrepidus West-Saxoniam adiit sine cunctatione, et ab omni populo magna susceptus gratulatione, suæ ditioni subegit eam citissime; quibus auditis multi Anglorum populi magna cum festinatione illi se dederunt voluntarie.”

No doubt, as soon as Eadmund’s standard was once raised, volunteers would drop in from all parts which were not actually occupied by a Danish military force. The expressions of Florence implying something like a conquest, though of course a perfectly willing conquest, of Wessex by Eadmund will be understood if we remember that Cnut was actually the acknowledged King, by the choice of all the Witan who were not actually within the walls of London. I do not quite understand William of Malmesbury (ii. 180), who seems to think that Eadmund took a force with him from London (“oppidani Edmundum in regem conclamant. Ipse, mox congregato exercitu, apud Pennam juxta Gilingeham Danos fugavit”), and that the West-Saxons did not acknowledge him till after the battle of Sherstone—“quo facto West-Saxonum conversi animi dominum legitimum cognoverunt.”

I see no reason to doubt that the Sceorstan of the Chronicles is Sherstone in Wiltshire, and not Chimney in Oxfordshire, as suggested by Mr. Thorpe in his note on Florence. Mr. Thorpe objects that Florence places the battle “in Hwiccia,” and that Sherstone, as being in Wiltshire, does not answer that description. But Florence also places the battle of Pen “in Dorsetania,” which Pen Selwood is not, though Gillingham is. But both Sherstone and Pen Selwood are so near to the marches of their respective shires, that military operations may well have extended in both cases beyond the border.

As for the details of the battle of Sherstone, I have mainly followed Florence. The story of Eadric pretending that Eadmund was dead no doubt comes from a ballad, but I do not see that that makes it at all untrustworthy. A contemporary ballad, such as that of Maldon or the lost ballad on which Henry of Huntingdon must have founded his account of Stamfordbridge, is surely very good authority. But while Florence and William of Malmesbury place the story at Sherstone, Henry of Huntingdon transfers it to Assandun; he therefore leaves out the incident of Eadric’s striking off the man’s head or otherwise professing to have killed Eadmund, a story which was of course inconsistent with Eadric’s position at Assandun, where he held a command on Eadmund’s side. But this incident is surely an essential part of the story; it is not Florence and William who have added it, but Henry who has left it out. William of Malmesbury simply says that Eadric “gladium in manu tenens quem, in pugna quodam rustico impigre cæso, cruentarat, Fugite, inquit, miseri, fugite, ecce, Rex vester hoc ense occisus est.” Florence is fuller; “Siquidem quum pugna vehemens esset, et Anglos fortiores esse cerneret, cujusdam viri, regi Eadmundo facie capillisque simillimi, Osmeari nomine, capite amputato et in altum levato, exclamat Anglos frustra pugnare, dicens

‘Vos Dorsetenses, Domnani, Wiltonienses, Amisso capite præcipites fugite; En domini vestri caput Eadmundi Basilei Hic teneo manibus, cedite quantocius.’”

(The same stratagem is said to have been employed by an English soldier at the Battle of the Standard. See Æthelred of Rievaux, X Scriptt. 345; “Cujusdam prudentis viri figmento, qui caput unius occisi in altum erigens, regem clamabat occisum, revocati, vehementius solito irruunt in obstantes.” The story is told with great spirit by Peter of Langtoft, i. 480.)

The metrical character of the speech given by Florence was first remarked by Professor Stubbs (R. Howden, i. 82); but we may be sure that both this and the other longer speech are merely expansions of the vigorous little bit of English given us in Henry of Huntingdon, “Flet Engle, flet Engle, ded is Edmund,” which are likely enough to be Eadric’s real words. Still the speech in Florence is valuable (see above, p. 558). It helps us to the party divisions of Wessex at the moment of the battle. The Wilsætas are here reckoned among the followers of Eadmund, but Florence had just before said that Eadric, Ælfmær, and Ælfgar were there “cum Suthamtoniensibus et Wiltoniensibus provincialibus, innumeraque populi multitudine in parte Danorum.” It is plain then that the northern and southern parts of Wiltshire were arrayed on opposite sides. The incident of Eadmund taking off his helmet and hurling his spear at Eadric is found only in William of Malmesbury; “Fugissent continuo Angli, nisi rex, cognita re, in editum quemdam collem procederet, ablata galea caput suum commilitonibus ostentans.” I hope that this is not copied from the like story of William at Senlac; it is an incident which might easily repeat itself; and the notion of Eadmund getting on higher ground to show himself, falls in with the difference between a general fighting on foot like Eadmund and one fighting on horseback like William.

There is nothing in the English accounts which calls for special remark till we come to the battle of Assandun. All the accounts agree as to the treason of Eadric at Aylesford. But it is to be noticed that the remark made in p. 417 as to the two classes of treasons laid to the charge of Eadric applies here. The treasons reported at Sherstone and Assandun must be facts; the treason reported at Aylesford may have been only a general surmise. As to the order of events all agree, only Florence, in his reckoning, goes by the number of armies, Henry of Huntingdon by that of battles. The third army fought two battles, one under the walls of London, the other at Brentford.

As for the battle of Assandun, I have no doubt that the modern Ashington is the true site. In June, 1866, I went over the ground with Mr. Dawkins, Florence in hand. We found that the place exactly answered his description, and I afterwards compared it with the other authorities. Another spot which has been proposed is Ashdown in another part of Essex. I suppose its claims rest on the description of the Encomiast (ii. 9), “in Æsceneduno loco, quod nos Latini montem fraxinorum possimus interpretari.” But this only shows the foreign writer’s imperfect knowledge of English. Assandun is simply, as Florence has it, mons asini. Henry of Huntingdon’s form Esesdun may come from substituting the later genitive asses for the older assan, or from a confusion with Ælfred’s Æscesdun in 871, or possibly from a shrinking from so unheroic a meaning as mons asini. The modern form Assington or Ashington is due to the same corruption which has changed Abb_an_dun and Hunt_an_dun and Ælfred’s Eth_an_dun into Ab_ing_don, Hunt_ing_don, and Ed_ing_ton. The form in -ing is so common that it has swallowed up others which are less familiar. As for the other hill, Canewdon, the local explanation which connects it with the name of Cnut is certainly very tempting, though it is perhaps a little hard to get it out of Cnutesdún. But the Domesday form (ii. 44) Carendun is clearly corrupt, and the pronunciation Cánewdon is a very recent corruption, savouring of the schoolmaster. On the lips of the oldest inhabitant it is distinctly Caneẃdon, which brings us near, if not to Cnuto, at least to Canutus.

The battle of Assandun was distinctly a national struggle on the English side. In the words of the Chronicles, “Þær ahte Cnut sige, and gefeht him ealle Engla þeode.” So just before, Eadmund’s army is called “ealle Engla þeode,” and Florence says that he came “cum exercitu quem de tota Anglia contraxerat.” The presence of Ulfcytel and Godwine witnesses to the presence of the forces of such strongly Danish districts as East-Anglia and even distant Lindesey, while Eadric is distinctly marked in Florence as commanding, among other forces, the equally distant Magesætas; “cum Magesetensibus et exercitus parte cui præerat.”

My account of the battle comes from three sources. The strictly military part of it, the arrangements and intentions of the two generals, comes from Florence. The poetical part, the picture of the King by his Standard and his charge upon the enemy, comes from Henry of Huntingdon; I have even ventured to bring in a few touches from the Encomiast, whose account of this one battle seems to be historical. But it must be remembered that the stratagem of Eadric, which Florence and William of Malmesbury place at Sherstone, is by Henry of Huntingdon moved to Assandun. Eadmund, in his great charge, has nearly reached Cnut’s post in the Danish army, when Eadric cries out “Flet Engle,” &c., takes to flight himself, and the rest of the English army follow him. I hope that I have already shown that the story of Eadmund’s pretended death is in its place at Sherstone, and that its details have been changed to make it suit the circumstances of Assandun. It is also plain from the other accounts that, though the flight of Eadric greatly weakened the English forces, yet the battle went on long after.

I will now turn to the foreign accounts, beginning with the absolutely contemporary Thietmar. We have seen something of him when dealing with the accounts of the martyrdom of Ælfheah. Thietmar clearly took a deep interest in English affairs without fully understanding them. He wrote down the accounts which he heard at the time as well as he could make them out, but in so doing he often made havoc of his story. Still an author to whom the struggle of Cnut and Eadmund was the latest piece of foreign news must have his use; and we shall find that Thietmar here, as before, gives us some hints which, if used cautiously, may be of great value. His account is full of blunders, but there is nothing of perversion, romance, or colouring. His story (vii. 28, ap. Pertz, iii. 849) runs thus. After the death of Æthelred, Harold and Cnut the sons of Swegen, with their Earl Thurgut (“cum duce suimet Thurguto”), besiege London with 340 ships, each manned by eighty men. The city was defended by the Lady Emma—who is described as “tristis nece viri suimet et defensoris”—with her two sons Æthelstan and Eadmund—Æthelred’s first family being as usual mistaken for children of Emma—together with two Bishops and other chief men (“duobus episcopis ceterisque primatibus”). The siege lasted six months; at last the Lady, tired out (“bello defatigata assiduo”), asked for peace. The Danes demanded the surrender of the two Æthelings to be put to death, the payment of 15,000 pounds of silver as the Lady’s ransom, of 12,000 pounds as the ransom of the Bishops, the surrender of all the coats of mail in the city, 24,000 in number (“numerus incredibilis”), and of 300 hostages. If these terms are not agreed to, all would be put to death (“sin autem, omnes ter clamabant eos una gladio perituros”). The Lady (“venerabilis regina”—I need not say that this is a mere title of honour and has no reference to the age of the future bride of Cnut), after some hesitation, consents to these terms. The Æthelings escaped by night in a little boat, and forthwith begin to gather a force for the relief of their mother and of the city. Eadmund one day falls in with Thurgut, who was engaged in plundering. A drawn battle follows, in which both Thurgut and Eadmund are killed. The Danes go back to their ships, and hearing that Æthelstan is coming with a British force to the relief of the city (“intelligentes urbi solatium ab Æthelsteno superstite et Britannis venientibus afferri”), they raised the siege after killing or mutilating their hostages (“truncatis obsidibus”). The strictly contemporary character of the account is shown by the prayer with which the Bishop of Merseburg winds up his story; “Et destruat eos [Danos] atque disperdat protector in se sperantium Deus, ne umquam solito his vel aliis noceant fidelibus. In ereptione civitatis illius gaudeamus et in cetero lugeamus.”

This account sounds very wild, and it is easy to show that there are plenty of mistakes in it. But written as it was at the very time, while the final upshot of the war was still uncertain, it suggests some very important points. To mistake Æthelstan and Eadmund for sons of Emma was a common and easy blunder. But to suppose that Emma had come back to England with Æthelred, that she was now in London, that, with or without the consent of Eadmund, she entered into negotiations with Cnut, are statements which are not found in our Chronicles, but which do not contradict what is found there. They are statements which are perfectly possible; they may even throw light on the marriage of Cnut and Emma in the next year. The mention of the two Bishops again falls in with the fact, which we have got at in another way, that Archbishop Lyfing was in the city. Then, though it is quite certain that London did not stand a continuous siege of six months, beginning with July 1016, yet London must have been besieged off and on for about that time in the course of the year 1016. Then the death of Eadmund is of course wrongly given, and the death of Thurkill also, if by Thurgut we are to understand Thurkill. But this last point is by no means clear, as Thietmar goes on immediately to tell the story of Ælfheah, in which Thurkill, though not Ælfheah (see above, p. 677), appears with his right name. But the thing which is most remarkable in this account is the mention of Harold the brother of Cnut and of Æthelstan the brother of Eadmund. Harold and Æthelstan are men whose existence we know, but not much more about them. There was no temptation to bring them in, unless they had really played a part in the war. I think we may infer that Harold did accompany Cnut, and that Æthelstan had a share in the campaign—that is, that he did not die before his father (see above, p. 691). Moreover Thietmar, who called Ælfheah Dunstan, was quite capable of confounding the two brothers and transposing their names. Let us only read Eadmund for Æthelstan and Æthelstan for Eadmund, and we get a consistent and probable narrative. The tale was probably told Thietmar by some one who came from London and who did not enlarge on the western fights of Pen Selwood and Sherstone. He dwelt mainly on what happened in and near his own city. Æthelstan, it would seem, was killed, as is perfectly probable, in one of the battles near London or in some unrecorded skirmish. The Danes raise the siege, as we know that they twice did, before the armies of Eadmund. Those armies, levied mainly in the western shires, are by Thietmar called Britanni. This expression is one of the most remarkable in the whole story. It must have some special force; it is not Thietmar’s usual way of speaking of Englishmen. We can hardly doubt that Thietmar’s English informant, speaking of troops levied mainly within the shires of the old Wealhcyn, spoke of them as Brettas or Wealas. Altogether I look on this account as worthy of all heed. I have not ventured to insert the death of Æthelstan or the negotiation between Emma and Cnut in the text as thoroughly ascertained facts, but I certainly look upon both as highly probable.

I must now turn to a foreign writer of quite another character, the Encomiast of Emma. I have already mentioned (see above, p. 670) how he makes Thurkill bring Cnut into England. This is before the death of Æthelred. He now (ii. 6) goes on to tell us how, before Cnut himself landed, Thurkill determined to win Cnut’s favour by some great exploit. He therefore lands, in what part of England it is not said, with the crews of forty ships, and fights the battle of Sherstone (“ascendit cum suis e navibus dirigens aciem contra Anglorum impetum qui tunc in loco Scorastan dicto fuerat congregatus”) all by himself against an English force of more than double his numbers (“Danorum exercitus ... medietati hostium minime par fuerat”), over whom he of course gains a complete victory. Eric then (see p. 379), fired by the example of Thurkill, is allowed to go on another expedition, in which he fights several battles and wins much plunder. Cnut then, seemingly looking on the country as his own, forbids further ravages (“rex parcens patriæ, prohibuit ultra eam prædari”), but orders a strict siege to be laid to London, which is oddly called “metropolis terræ,” and which the writer seems half to fancy was on the sea (“undique enim mari quodammodo non pari vallatur flumine”). Just at this time Æthelred died, being removed, according to the Encomiast, by God’s special providence, in order that Cnut might enter the city and that both Danes and Englishmen might have a breathing-space; “Deus itaque qui omnes homines vult magis salvare quam perdere, intuens has gentes tanto periculo laborare, eum principem qui interius civitati præsidebat educens e corpore, junxit quieti sempiternæ, ut eo defuncto liber Cnutoni ingressus pateret, et utrique populo confecta pace paulisper respirare copia esset.” The citizens accordingly bury Æthelred and make a capitulation with Cnut, by which the city is surrendered to him. Cnut accordingly enters the city, and if not crowned, is at least enthroned; “Cnuto civitatem intravit, et in solio regni resedit.” But a part of the troops within the city disapprove of the agreement with Cnut, so on the night after his entrance they leave the city with a young man called Eadmund, a son of the late King; “cum filio defuncti principis egressi sunt civitatem;” so directly after “Ædmund, sic enim juvenis qui exercitum collegerat dictus est.” Eadmund easily gathers an army, because the English were more inclined to him than they were to Cnut; “nec quieverunt quousque omnes pene Anglos sibi magis adhuc adclines quam Cnutoni conglobarent.” Cnut is meanwhile in London, but finding that he cannot trust the Londoners, he first repairs his ships, and then leaves the city and winters in Sheppey, having declined an offer of single combat made to him by Eadmund. Eadmund enters London, where he is joyfully received, and spends the winter, having Eadric with him as his chief counsellor (“erat quoque ejus partis comes primus Edricus, consiliis pollens, sed tamen dolositate versipellis, quem sibi ad aurem posuerat Ædmund in omnibus negotiis”). The next Lent is spent by Eadmund in gathering a vast force with the intention of driving Cnut out of the country. The story now becomes more trustworthy, and we get a spirited account of the battle of Assandun, from which I have not scrupled to draw largely in the text. I need only mention here that the treacherous flight of Eadric is as distinctly asserted as in any English account. The only difference is that it is placed before the battle has actually begun. The words are,

“Ibique, nondum congressione facta, Edric, quem primum comitem Ædmundi diximus, hæc suis intulit affamina, ‘Fugiamus, O socii, vitamque subtrahamus morte imminenti, alioquin occumbemus illico, Danorum enim duritiam nosco.’ Et velato vexillo quod dextra gestabat, dans tergum hostibus, magnam partem militum bello fraudabat. Et, ut quidam aiunt, hoc non caussa egit timoris sed dolositatis, ut postea claruit; quia hoc eum clam Danis promisisse, nescio quo pro beneficio, assertio multorum dicit.”

The Scandinavian writers are, if possible, yet more wonderful. In the Saga of Olaf Haraldsson (Laing, i. 8; Johnstone, 89) we read how, when Æthelred came back from Normandy, or, according to this account, from Flanders, Olaf took service under him and joined in an attack on London, which was then held by the Danes. Olaf with his ships breaks down London bridge and takes Southwark, on which the Londoners surrender and receive Æthelred. Olaf passes the winter in England, and, strange to say, fights the battle of Ringmere in Ulfcytel’s land (p. 93); “Þá atto þeir orrosto micla á Hríngmaraheidi á Ulfkelslandi, þát ríki átti þá Ulfkell Snillingr.” (See above, p. 654.) By a yet more amazing confusion Olaf is next made to take Canterbury; he then has the general command of all England, where he stays three years. In the third year Æthelred dies, and is succeeded by his sons Eadmund and Eadward. Olaf now leaves England, and performs divers exploits in Valland or Gaul. Meanwhile Cnut and Eric come into England, where Eric fights a battle near London, in which Ulfcytel is killed. Cnut fights several battles with the sons of Æthelred with various success. He then marries Emma, by whom he has three children, Harold, Harthacnut, and Gunhild. He then divides the kingdom with Eadmund, who is presently killed by Eadric Streona. Cnut now drives all the sons of Æthelred out of England; they take refuge at Rouen in Valland, where Olaf joins them. They lay plans for recovering England from Cnut, Northumberland being promised to Olaf. Olaf sends over his foster-father Rana (see p. 404) into England, who spends a winter there, collecting forces. In the spring Olaf and the sons of Æthelred go over into England themselves, but after some fighting, the power of Cnut is found to be too strong for them, so Olaf goes into Norway and the sons of Æthelred return to Valland.

Not less amazing is the version in the Knytlinga Saga (c. 7–16; Johnstone, 103 et seqq.). Here again Æthelred is made to return after the death of Swegen with the help of Olaf. Cnut is only ten years old at his father’s death; still, as his brother Harold is dead, he succeeds in Denmark. After three years, it is thought good that he should assert his claims to England. So he sets sail with the Earls Eric and Ulf, and with Heming and Thurkill the Tall, the sons of Strut-Harold (see above, p. 670). They land in England at a place called Fliot; their first battle is fought in Lindesey. They then take the town of Hemingburgh (“Hemingaborg à Englandi”) and go on conquering towards the south. In the autumn Æthelred dies, Emma is just about to leave England, when Cnut stops her and persuades her to marry him (see Appendix ZZ). The English now (p. 129) choose four Kings, sons of Æthelred and Emma (“Eptir andlat Adalrads konungs voru til konunga teknir synir hans oc Emmu drotningar”). The eldest is Eadmund the Strong (“Jatmundr enn sterki”), the others Eadgar, Eadwig, and Eadward the Good (“Jatvardr enn godi,” see above, p. 688). The battle of Sherstone is now fought, but one is rather surprised to find it fought in Northumberland by the banks of the Tees. Eadmund and Cnut both fight on horseback, and meet face to face in the battle. On a report that Eadmund is killed the English take to flight. After this is placed the story of Godwine’s introduction to Ulf (see Note ZZ). Cnut next defeats the sons of Æthelred in a battle at Brentford, then comes (p. 134) the battle of Assundun, which is described as “Assatun to the north of the Daneswood” (“Knutr konungr atti ena þridu orrostu vid Adalradsyni, þar sem heita Assatun: vard þar en mikil orrosta: þat er nordr fra Danaskogum”). A fourth battle and a fourth defeat of the English follows at Norwich. Eadmund and his brothers then take shelter in London. Cnut sails up the river and besieges the city. The English come out to fight, and, while Cnut continues the siege, Eric, with some of the Thingmen, fights a battle against Ulfcytel (“Ulfkell Snillingr”) and puts him to flight. He then wins another battle at Ringmere. Cnut is still besieging Eadmund in London, when it is agreed that the kingdom shall be divided. Then follows the murder of Eadmund. (See Appendix WW.)

All this is wonderful enough, but it is hardly so wonderful as what we read, not in any saga, but in the sober Annals of Roskild (Langebek, i. 376); “Sven Angliam invasit, regem Adelradum expulit et Britanniæ fines potitus, vix tres menses supervixit. Post cujus mortem Edmundus filius Adelradi, quem Sveno expulit, Kanutum filium Suenonis et Olavum filium Olavi regis Norwegiæ, qui ibi obsides fuerant, in vincula conjecit (see p. 375).... Mortuo Edmundo rege Anglorum filius Adelradus in regnum successit. Quod audiens Kanutus, veteris injuriæ non immemor quam pater ejus sibi et Olavo intulerat, cum mille armatis navibus transfretavit, et immensis viribus Angliam invasit, triennium cum Adelrado certavit. Adelradus, fessus et bello et senio, quum obsideretur in Londonia civitate, obiit, relinquens filium Edwardum, quem suscepit ab Ymma regina, quæ fuit filia Rothberti comitis. Kanutus victor exsistens, ipsam Ymmam duxit uxorem, genuitque ex ea filium Hartheknud.”

It is hardly worth while examining these stories in detail, though it would not be hard to point out some of their confusions and transpositions. They should make us thankful for the priceless heritage of our own Chronicles.

NOTE WW. p. 395. THE CONFERENCE OF CNUT AND EADMUND.

The conference between Cnut and Eadmund has grown in the hands of many historians, from Henry of Huntingdon onwards, into a single combat between the two Kings, which, as Mr. Earle says (Saxon Chronicles Parallel, 340), “became in the course of time one of the established sensation scenes of history.” The Chronicles and Florence know nothing of the story. The Chronicles simply say, “And coman begen þa cyningas togædre æt Olanige,” and go on to mention the terms of the agreement. So Florence, who is a little fuller; “Dein uterque rex in insulam quæ Olanege appellatur, et est in ipsius fluminis medio sita, trabariis advehitur, ubi pace, amicitia, fraternitate, et pacto et sacramentis confirmata, regnum dividitur.” The Knytlinga Saga knows nothing of the story, and the Encomiast (ii. 12, 13) describes at great length the negotiation which led to the division of the kingdom, without any reference to a combat. Mr. Earle ingeniously suggests that the notion of the combat arose from a misunderstanding of the words of the Chronicles, as the words “coman togædre” might mean either a hostile meeting or a friendly conference,—the latter of course being their meaning here.

It is hardly worth while to go at length through all the later versions, but the utterly different accounts in William of Malmesbury and Henry of Huntingdon, and the strange tale of Walter Map, may well be compared together. According to William (ii. 180), Eadmund had already collected a new army in Gloucestershire, and the two armies are standing ready for battle, “quum infestis signis constitissent.” Then Eadmund, to spare further bloodshed (“ne duo homunculi propter ambitionem regnandi tot subjectorum sanguine culparentur”), proposes a single combat. This challenge Cnut refuses, on the ground that he would have no chance against a man so much bigger and stronger than himself as Eadmund was; “Abnuit prorsus, pronuncians animo se quidem excellere sed contra tam ingentis molis hominem corpusculo diffidere.” He proposes instead that, as each of them had a fair claim to a kingdom which had been held by his father (“quia ambo non indebite regnum efflagitent, quod patres amborum tenuerint”), instead of fighting for the kingdom, they should divide it between them. The armies on both sides agree, and the division is quietly carried out, though seemingly against the wishes of Eadmund, who is spoken of as “unanimi clamore omnium superatus.” In Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 756 C, D), when the armies are gathered together in Gloucestershire for the seventh time, the chief men (“proceres”), seemingly on both sides, agree that, instead of another battle, the two Kings shall decide the matter by single combat (“pugnent singulariter qui regnare student singulariter”). The Kings approve, and Henry adds, “nec enim mediocris erat rex Cnut probitatis.” They fight therefore in Olney (“positi igitur reges in Olanie duellum inceperunt”). Henry of Huntingdon seems to have been not quite clear whether he ought to describe a French tournament or a Scandinavian holmgang. There is no mention of horses, but we read of the lances being broken, and it is not till then that the champions draw their swords. Then the fight really begins. The people on each side behold and listen to the “horribiles tinnitus et igneas collisiones,” which most likely come from a ballad. The strength of Eadmund however has the better of it (“tandem vigor incomparabilis Edmundi fulminare cœpit.” See above, p. 392). Cnut resists manfully, but begins to fear for his life; he therefore proposes that they shall fight no longer, but divide the kingdom and become sworn brothers (“fratres adoptivi”). Eadmund agrees (“his verbis juvenis mens generosa delinita est”), and they exchange the kiss of peace. Walter Map (De Nugis, 204) has yet another version. The armies meet one another “apud Durherst in valle Gloucestriæ super Sabrinam.” The Danes have the larger host (“Chnutus dimidium Angliæ cum Dacis adduxerat”). Still the Danes are afraid, because of the valour of the English and their own unjust cause. They therefore demand that the matter shall be settled by a single combat of champions (“Fiat pro bello duellum, et victor pugil domino suo regnum obtineat cæteris in pace dimisis”). Eadmund determines to fight himself and not by a champion; so Cnut determines to do the same (“quatinus informis absit imparitas, par enim congressio regum et bene consona”). They meet in the island on horseback, their horses are killed, and they fight on foot. The personal description of the Kings is quite unlike any other (“Chnutus procerus et major et altus, Edmundum grandem et planum, i.e. mediocriter pinguem, tam probo tam improbo fatigavit assultu”). They exchange sarcasms and go on fighting, till the Danes, seeing Cnut in danger, demand that the Kings should make a treaty. They accordingly agree to divide the kingdom and to become sworn brothers (“Daci ... in fœdus eos hujusmodi multis coëgerunt precibus et lacrymis, quatinus æqualiter inter eos divisum possiderent tota vita sua regnum, et post mortem alterius succederet superstes in solidum, factique sunt ibi fratres et amici, fideque firmissima conglutinati”). Roger of Wendover (i. 457–459) tells the same story, but at much greater length and with a much greater display of eloquence. He attributes the first proposal of the single combat to Eadric (“iniquus dux Eadricus”). The fight and the proposal on the part of Cnut are essentially the same as in Henry of Huntingdon. Cnut makes a long speech, in which he sets forth the greatness of his own dominion in words which would have been somewhat beyond the truth some years later (“mihi Dacia servit, mihi Norwegia succumbit, mihi rex Suanorum manus dedit”). Besides the kiss of peace, the exchange of arms and clothes is described (“in signum pacis vestes mutantes et arma, fit Eadmundus Cnuto et Cnuto Eadmundus”). The exchange of garments is also mentioned by Florence in his account of the peaceful conference (“armis et vestibus mutatis ... ab invicem discesserunt”); but if the tradition followed by William of Malmesbury as to the personal stature of the two Kings be at all trustworthy, a judgement of Cyrus would presently have been needed to restore the clothes to their former owners.

The place of meeting, the island in the Severn called Olney, is placed near Deerhurst by the Worcester Chronicler, by Florence, and by Walter Map, all of whom had local knowledge; the other Chronicles do not mention its position. Mr. Earle (Parallel Chronicles, 341) places it close to Gloucester. I have not examined either place for the purpose, but I should be inclined to look on the witness of the Hwiccian writers as decisive.

As for the terms of the treaty, three of the Chronicles simply assign Wessex to Eadmund and Mercia to Cnut. It was perhaps held that Cnut was already King of the Northumbrians, and that his possession of that kingdom could not be called in question. The Worcester Chronicle says more exactly, “and feng þa Eadmund cyng to Westsexan and Cnut to þam norð dǽle.” Florence makes the important addition of East-Anglia, Essex, and London to the share of Eadmund. Henry of Huntingdon gives London to Cnut; “Edmundus regnum suscepit Westsexe, Cnut vero regnum Merce suscipiens reversus est Londoniam.” William of Malmesbury follows the three Chronicles. The Encomiast (ii. 13) talks simply of North and South. The English deputies say to Cnut, “Dominare in australi”—for which we must of course read “boreali”—“parte cum quiete, e regione autem sit noster Ædmundus in finibus meridianæ plagæ.” Walter Map (De Nugis, 206) gives quite another division; “Chnutus Lundoniam et illas trans Hichenild partes habebat, Edmundus alias.” This reads like an utter turning about of the whole geography; the Icknild way is an approach to the frontier as traced by Florence; only Cnut is placed in Wessex and East-Anglia, and Eadmund in the rest of the kingdom. I have no doubt as to accepting the line drawn by Florence. Ever since the extinction of the short-lived dynasty of Guthrum, we always find East-Anglia heartily throwing in its lot with Wessex, never with Mercia and Northumberland.

The distinct statement that the Imperial supremacy was reserved to Eadmund is found, oddly enough, only in Roger of Wendover. His text runs thus;

“Dividitur itaque regnum, Eadmundo dictante, inter duos, ita ut corona totius regni regi remaneat Eadmundo; cedunt ergo in usus ejus totam Angliam ad australem plagam Thamesis fluminis, cum Est-Sexia et Est Anglia et civitate Londoniarum, quæ caput est regni; Cnutone etiam aquilonales partes Angliæ obtinente.”

Roger would of course be by himself no authority on such a point; but it is plain that he is copying Florence. In the text of Florence there is a gap, which can be filled up only, as Mr. Thorpe has filled it, with the words of Roger;

“West-Saxoniam, East-Angliam, East-Saxoniam cum Lundonia [civitate, et totam terram ad australem plagam Tamesis fluminis obtinuit Eadmundus, Canuto aquilonares partes Angliæ obtinente; corona tamen] regni Eadmundo mansit.”

A certain superiority on the part of Eadmund appears also in the words of William of Malmesbury; “Edmundus ... concordiæ indulsit, fœdusque cum Cnutone percussit, sibi West-Saxoniam, illi concedens Merciam.” Henry of Huntingdon (756 C), on the other hand, falls into the mistake of supposing that Cnut occupied London after the battle of Assandun, perhaps that he was crowned then; “Rex Cnut, tanta fretus victoria, Londoniam et sceptra cepit regalia.” In the Encomiast Cnut naturally takes a lofty tone; the other King is to be his tributary. Such at least seems to be the meaning of the words, “Sed tamen vectigal etiam suæ partis vester rex, quicumque ille fuerit, exercitui dabit meo. Hoc enim illi debeo, ideoque aliter pactum non laudo.” It is hard to weigh the exact meaning of these rhetorical writers, but this sounds like something more lasting than the single Danegeld which was undoubtedly to be paid. This last is witnessed by the Chronicles. The Kings, among their other agreements, “þæt gyld setton wið þone here.” So Florence, “Tributo quod classicæ manui penderetur statuto.”

One point still remains. After the death of Eadmund, Cnut, according to the account in Florence, claimed his dominions by virtue of the Olney compact. He asks the witnesses whether any provision had been made for the succession of the brothers or sons of Eadmund, in case Eadmund died before Cnut; “Interrogavit ... qualiter ipse et Eadmundus de fratribus et filiis ejusdem inter se loquuti fuissent. Utrum fratribus et filiis ejus liceret in regno Occidentalium Saxonum post patrem eorum regnare, si Eadmundus moreretur vivente illo.” They made the answer which I have given in the text at p. 405; “Se proculdubio scire quod rex Eadmundus fratribus suis nullam portionem regni sui, nec se spirante neque moriente, commendasset; dixeruntque hoc se nosse, Eadmundum regem velle Canutum adjutorem et protectorem esse filiorum ejus, donec regnandi ætatem habuissent.” Florence goes on to say that their witness was false, and that the false witnesses were, when a convenient season came, characteristically put to death by Cnut. But an agreement that each King should succeed to the dominions of the other, that is, that the adoptive brother should be preferred to the brother by blood, is in every way likely. Such an agreement is directly asserted in the Knytlinga Saga, c. 16 (Johnstone, 139). Cnut and Eadmund divide the land and swear that, if either of them dies childless, he shall succeed to the dominions of the other (“sva, at skipta skylldi i helminga lanndi med þeim, oc hafa halft riki hvarr, medan þeir lifdi; enn ef annarrhvarr anndadiz barnlauss, þa skylldi sa taka allt rikit med frialsu, er eptir lifdi; oc var su sætt eidum bunndin”). In Saxo (192) the agreement between Cnut and Eadmund (whom he calls Eadward) is all on one side; Cnut is to have half the kingdom while Eadmund lives, and the whole at his death (“Edvardus ... pactum cum hoste conseruit, ut quoad ipse viveret, Canutum dimidii regni consortem haberet, extinctus omnium honorum hæredem relinqueret”). This would seem to shut out Eadmund’s children, which seems inconsistent with the account in Florence. But some agreement to exclude the brothers on each side was almost necessary. A claim on the part of one of the Æthelings to succeed Eadmund, a claim on the part of Harold of Denmark to succeed Cnut, would be almost sure to be put forward. And it might be thought to be on the whole for the common interest of both Kings to shut out such claims. The brothers on both sides were much more dangerous than the sons. Cnut most likely had no children as yet. And even if either of the doubtful brood of Ælfgifu of Northampton was already born, he must have still been in his cradle. So were the two little Æthelings, the “clitunculi” of Florence, the sons of Eadmund and Ealdgyth. The words of the witnesses clearly imply that these children were put in a different position from their uncles. The possibility of their coming to the crown is recognized; Cnut is to be their guardian till they are of age to reign. Of course this does not mean that he was to resign in their favour when they came of age; it means only that they were to be in the same position as other minor Æthelings, as the sons of Æthelred the First (see p. 109) or the sons of Eadmund the Magnificent (see p. 63). They were to be passed over for the present; at any future vacancy they might be elected or they might not. An arrangement of this kind seems to agree both with the words of the witnesses and with the circumstances of the case. I assume of course that, if Cnut was to succeed Eadmund, Eadmund was equally to succeed Cnut, just as in the agreement between Harthacnut and Magnus (see p. 508). No other terms would be possible in an agreement between two sworn brothers, in which whatever superiority there was to be on either side was reserved to Eadmund.

NOTE XX. p. 398. THE DEATH OF EADMUND.

The Chronicles are silent as to the manner and place of Eadmund’s death. All that they say is, “Þá to Sc̃e Andreas mæssan forðferde se kyning Eadmund.” Florence adds, “decessit Lundoniæ.” He mentions neither Cnut nor Eadric, and in a later passage he seems to exclude Eadric. At least when Cnut puts Eadric to death, the reason is said to be, “quia timebat insidiis ab eo aliquando circumveniri, sicut domini sui priores Ægelredus et Eadmundus frequenter sunt circumventi.” If Florence had thought that Eadmund was killed by Eadric, he would surely have said so more plainly. The treasons of Eadric towards Æthelred and towards Eadmund are put on a level, and no one ever charged Eadric with the death of Æthelred. Florence, as his whole narrative shows, was not slack at attributing crimes to Eadric, but that he had anything to do with the death of Eadmund he nowhere hints.

The language of the Encomiast (ii. 14) is obscure and mysterious, and his way of speaking of the Deity may be thought slightly anthropomorphic. God, in his wisdom, took away Eadmund, lest the contention for the crown should be renewed, and in order that Cnut might possess the whole kingdom peaceably. The whole passage is remarkable;

“Verumtamen Deus, memor suæ antiquæ doctrinæ, scilicet omne regnum in seipsum divisum diu permanere non posse, non longo post tempore Ædmundum eduxit e corpore, Anglorum misertus Imperii, ne forte, si uterque superviveret, neuter regnaret secure, et regnum diatim adnihilaretur renovata contentione.... Cujus rei gratia eum Deus jusserit obire, mox deinde patuit; quia universa regio illico Cnutonem sibi regem elegit, et cui ante omni conamine restitit, tunc sponte sua se illi et omnia sua subdidit.”

Adam of Bremen, who is not very well versed in English genealogy, says (ii. 51), “Frater Adelradi Emund, vir bellicosus, in gratiam victoris veneno sublatus est.” The murderer, whether Eadric or any one else, is not mentioned, and the words, though they might be taken as accusing Cnut, perhaps rather point to a version more like some of those which I shall presently mention.

We now come to the long string of English writers who accuse Eadric. William of Malmesbury (ii. 180) says that Eadmund died “ambiguum quo casu extinctus;” he then goes on to mention the charge against Eadric as a rumour;

“Fama Edricum infamat, quod favore alterius mortem ei per ministros porrexerit. Cubicularios regis fuisse duos, quibus omnem vitam suam commiserat, quos pollicitationibus illectos, et primo immanitatem flagitii exhorrentes, brevi complices suos effecisse. Ejus consilio ferreum uncum, ad naturæ requisita sedenti, in locis posterioribus adegisse.”

Here the deed is done by two chamberlains of Eadmund. In another version the actual murderer is a son of Eadric. The intention of this change is obvious. The son of Eadric is of course meant to be a son of Eadmund’s sister Eadgyth, so that we get the additional horror of a sisters son killing his uncle. It was either forgotten that a son of Eadric and Eadgyth would be a mere child, or else to kill Eadmund by the hand of a child was thought to be a further improvement. The scene is also placed at Oxford. In this shape we get the tale in Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 756 D);

“Edmundus rex post paucos exhinc dies proditione occisus est apud Oxineford. Sic autem occisus est. Quum rex hostibus suis terribilis et timendissimus in regno floreret, ivit nocte quadam in domum evacuationis ad requisita naturæ, ubi filius Edrici ducis in fovea secretaria delitescens consilio patris, regem inter celanda cultello his acuto percussit, et inter viscera ferrum figens, fugiens reliquit.”

Walter Map (De Nugis, 205–207) has a very strange story, in which, among other things, he takes care to keep the whole tale in his own part of England. He nowhere names Eadric, but, just as before in the case of Æthelred (see above, p. 658), he speaks of a “servus” whose relations to Eadmund would seem to have been somewhat the same as those of Chiffinch to Charles the Second. This man asks the King for the lands of Minsterworth in Gloucestershire, a parish of which Walter himself was parson, and which, according to his account of the division (see above, p. 708), would come within the share of Eadmund. The King does not refuse the gift, but delays it. The servant plans his death, and carries out his purpose at Minsterworth by much the same means as those described by William of Malmesbury and Henry of Huntingdon. The King, mortally wounded at Minsterworth, is carried to die at Ross.

Roger of Wendover (i. 459) tells the story in nearly the same words as Henry of Huntingdon, beginning with a panegyric on Eadmund which is essentially the same as the panegyrics on Godwine, Harold, and others (see vol. ii. c. vii. and above, p. 400); “Rex Anglorum Eadmundus, dum justis in regno appareret mansuetus et pius ac injustis terribilis et crudelis, invidit ejus bonitati dux et proditor Eadricus, Merciorum dominus, et qualiter eum perderet infatigabiliter cogitavit.” The opportunity comes when Eadmund is at Oxford, which is evidently looked on as a town within Eadric’s government. The title “Merciorum dominus” is odd. We have heard of nothing like it since Æthelred and Æthelflæd. See above, p. 574.

Bromton (X Scriptt. 906) gives three versions, that of Florence, that of Henry of Huntingdon, and a third. He decides in favour of that of Henry; “Verior aliis et authenticior habetur.” His other version contains quite a new story, but one which shows that the story of the murder of Ælfhelm was running in the heads of those who devised it. Nothing else could have suggested the description of Eadric as “Edricus perfidus comes Salopiæ semper proditor.” Eadmund and Eadric are now on good terms; the Earl asks the King to visit him at his house, seemingly either at Shrewsbury or at Oxford. After the evening meal, the King is led to his bedroom. He there finds a figure of an archer of wonderful workmanship, with his bow bent and an arrow ready to shoot. He examines and touches it; the arrow goes off, and pierces and kills Eadmund, that being the end for which the ingenious piece of mechanism was made. This introduction of a mechanical contrivance instead of the simpler forms of murder which we find in the earlier forms of the story may be paralleled with the other mechanical contrivance which appears in the later forms of the story of Eadric’s own death. See Note BBB.

Knighton (X Scriptt. 2316) brings in the death of Eadmund with a most amazing preface. Eadmund has reigned five years, and he is then put to death at Gloucester, seemingly by a vote of the Witan, on a charge of favouring the Danes, a precedent which seems not to have been remembered in 1649. It seems to be only the manner of his death which is left to the ingenuity of Eadric. The words run thus;

“Edmundus quinto anno regni sui apud Gloverniam, pro eo quod barones sui suspicabantur eum proditorem et subversorem communis profectus regni sui [“a tyrant, traitor, murderer, and public enemy”], eo quod nimis inclinatus fuit antedictis Danis et prætulit eorum consilium, consilio regiorum suorum juratorum fidelium, incurrit mortem infra scriptam. De morte ejus multæ sunt opiniones, sed sufficiat una pro omnibus, quum sit per proditionem occisum Edrici.”

He then tells the story of the archer, which he calls “unum tristegum cum imagine ad similitudinem unius sagittarii.” Ducange (in voce) is puzzled at the “tristegum,” which generally means a structure of three stages, whether a house or a moveable tower. Knighton then tells, as an alternative version, the story of Henry of Huntingdon, only making Eadric himself the actual murderer, but with a further alternative of the two chamberlains. He adds that Eadric at once went to the widowed Ealdgyth, took her two children from her, and carried them away to Cnut.

With regard to the place where all this happened, we have seen that the Chroniclers are silent, that Florence names London, that Henry of Huntingdon names Oxford, while other writers name various other places. Amidst all this contradiction it is safest to cleave to Florence. But Mr. James Parker (History of Oxford, p. 26 and Postscriptum 3) argues strongly on behalf of Oxford. His best argument is that Oxford lies on the road between Gloucester and London, and that it is the last place within the Mercian jurisdiction of Eadric. But this assumes that Eadric was at this moment Earl of the Mercians. He was so at an earlier and at a later time, and it is assumed in the version of Roger of Wendover that Oxford was at this time under his government. But the position of Eadric at this moment is quite uncertain, and a story of a murder done by Eadric in his own earldom, especially a murder done at Oxford, seems to connect this story with the stories of Ælfhelm, Morkere, and Sigeferth, the former husband of Eadmund’s wife Ealdgyth. The mention of Shrewsbury in the so-called Bromton clearly comes from the same mint, and it seems to me that the mention of either Oxford or Shrewsbury is a part of the mythopœic process. Those who put together this version most likely forgot that Oxford lay within Cnut’s share of the kingdom.

In none of these English versions is it hinted that Cnut had any share in the deed. Eadric, in a later stage of the story, pleads the murder of Eadmund as a merit towards Cnut, and that is all. It is only by Cnut’s own countrymen that he is directly charged with the crime. The Knytlinga Saga (c. 16; Johnstone, 139) calmly tells us that Eadric, the confident and foster-brother of Eadmund, killed him—we are not told how—on the receipt of a bribe from Cnut. “Heidrekr Striona het ein rikr madr, er fe tok til þess af Knuti konungi, et hann sviki Jatmund konung, oc dræpi hann med mordvigi, oc þetta var hans bani: Heidrekr var þo fostri Jatmundar konungs, oc trudi hann honom sem sialfun ser.” Saxo (192, 193) has a story how, seven years after the agreement with Eadmund, Cnut is saluted at supper by some nameless person as King of all England. The bearers of the news then say that they have killed Eadmund to win Cnut’s favour, on which Cnut puts them to death. This is of course one version of the death of Eadric. See Note BBB. Saxo then adds, “Memorant alii Edvardum [Edmundum, see above, p. 710] clandestino Canuti imperio occisum, ejusdemque jussu pœnam a maleficis gratia demendæ suspicionis exactam. Ut enim innocentiæ suæ fidem adstrueret, seque ei culpæ affinem fuisse negaret, gravius in sceleratos consulendum putavit. Ea tamen res primum regis apud domesticos favorem quassavit.” These last words are very remarkable. They seem to fall in with several hints from other sources, which seem to show that Cnut, at least in his later days, was much less popular in Denmark than in England.

Snorro, in the Saga of Saint Olaf (Laing, ii. 21; Johnstone, 98), simply says that Eadric killed Eadmund; “Á sama mánadi drap Heinrekr Striona Eadmund konung.” But he adds that Cnut at once drove all the sons of Æthelred out of England, and quotes the poet Sigvat, who is also quoted in the Knytlinga Saga, who says that Cnut either killed or banished all the sons of Æthelred.

“Oc senn sono Sló hvern oc þó Adalráds eda Utflæmdi Knutr.”

The allusion here must be either to Eadmund or to Eadwig (see the next Note), most likely to Eadmund.

Of the manner of Eadmund’s death there is no mention in any of these writers. But the singularly base form of murder which so many English writers attribute to Eadric or his emissaries was not without other examples in that age. The younger Dedi of Saxony was said to have been killed in this way in 1068, and Gozelo, Duke of Lotharingia, in 1078 (see Lambert in annis, pp. 74 and 221 of the lesser Pertz). And the great Countess herself is charged with doing the like to her husband “Gigo, Duke of Normandy,” (Vit. Mat. c. viii; Muratori, v. 393). It is also essentially the same as the way in which the defender of Stamfordbridge was killed (see Hen. Hunt. M. H. B. 762 B), and a large part of a German army is said to have been destroyed in nearly the same way when the Emperor Henry the Fifth invaded Poland in 1109. Dlugoss, Hist. Pol. lib. iv. vol. i. col. 378 (ed. Lips. 1711).

And now as to the truth of the story. I think we can hardly do more than say, with William of Malmesbury, “ambiguum quo casu extinctus.” Eadmund died at a moment most convenient for Cnut. Cnut therefore, whether he really had a hand in his death or not, was sure to be suspected of it. Eadric was held to be capable of every crime, and was popularly believed to be the actual doer of every crime that was done. Eadric therefore was sure to be suspected as well as Cnut. Eadric was doubtless capable of the crime; so, I fear, was Cnut also at this time of his life. But the direct evidence against either does not seem strong enough for a conviction. The silence of Florence, compared with his language elsewhere, tells in favour of Eadric. The silence of all the English writers tells in favour of Cnut. This silence could hardly be owing to his later popularity in England, which has thrown no veil over the other crimes of his early reign. Florence can hardly fail to have heard the charge both against Eadric and against Cnut, but, while speaking of their other crimes, he leaves this out. On the other hand, there is something which tells against Cnut in the studied obscurity and overdone piety of the special panegyrist of himself and his wife.

NOTE YY. p. 406. THE TWO EADWIGS.

Nothing can be plainer than that Eadwig King of the Churls is quite a different person from Eadwig the Ætheling. The two are confounded by Bromton (907), who says, “Consilio Edrici exlegavit Edwinum, Edmundi regis fratrem, qui ceorlesking, id est rex rusticorum, appellabatur; postmodum tamen dolose reconciliatus, factione secretariorum suorum fraudulenter occisus est.”

I can offer no guess as to the reason of the singular surname of “ceorla cyning,” which is found in the three Chronicles, Abingdon, Worcester, and Peterborough. Nor can I say anything as to Eadwig’s earlier history. An “Eadwig minister” signs a charter of Æthelred in 1005 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 345), and before that, in 996, land at Bensington had been granted by Æthelred (vi. 136) to three brothers, Eadric, Eadwig, and Ealdred. As to the fate of the King of the Churls, the Worcester and Peterborough Chronicles, followed by Florence, place his banishment in 1017, Florence adding, “vero sequenti tempore cum rege pacificatus est Eadwius.” The Abingdon Chronicle puts off his banishment to the Gemót at Cirencester in 1020. Possibly he was outlawed, reconciled, and outlawed again. We hear nothing of his death.

Of the Ætheling Eadwig, the Worcester and Peterborough Chronicles (1017) simply say, “Cnut cyning aflymde ut Eadwig æðeling.” Abingdon adds, “and eft hine hét ofslean.” Florence, under the years 1016 and 1017, has two stories which it is not very easy to reconcile with one another. I suspect however that they arose, like the other statements of Florence under the years 1016 and 1017, out of two different accounts of the acts of Cnut’s first Midwinter Gemót. The first version, under 1016, immediately follows the vote by which the sons and brothers of Eadmund were set aside. It was followed by a vote of banishment against the Ætheling Eadwig—“Eadwius egregius et reverendissimus regis Eadmundi germanus.” Then Cnut holds a conference with Eadric, and asks him if he can by any means beguile Eadwig to death (“quomodo decipere posset Eadwium, ut mortis subiret periculum”). Eadric answers that there is a man fitter for the purpose than himself, namely a nobleman named Æthelweard—which of all the Æthelweards it is hard to say, but he is described as being “ex nobilissimo genere Anglorum ortus.” Æthelweard, it seems, had better opportunities of familiar intercourse with the Ætheling than Eadric had. Cnut sends for Æthelweard and makes him the largest promises, if he will undertake the murder of Eadwig. “Bring me his head,” says Cnut, “and you shall be dearer to me than a brother.” Æthelweard undertakes the task, but, like Uhtred in the case of Thurbrand, without any intention of performing it. So Eadwig escapes, at least for one while.

Directly after, under 1017, as soon as Florence has recorded the fourfold division of England and the mutual oaths of Cnut and the English, he goes on to say that, by the advice of Eadric (“consilio perfidi ducis Eadrici”), Cnut banished both Eadwigs (“rex Canutus clitonem Eadwium, regis Eadmund igermanum, et Eadwium, qui rex appellabatur rusticorum, exlegavit”). He goes on to say that the King of the Churls was reconciled to Cnut, as I have already said, but that the Ætheling was treacherously murdered within the year by Cnut’s order (“Eadwius vero clito, deceptus illorum insidiis quos eotenus amicissimos habuit, jussu et petitione regis Canuti, eodem anno innocenter occiditur”). This account, which is perhaps really the same as the other, is of course founded on the Abingdon Chronicle.

William of Malmesbury (ii. 180) has quite another story, which recognizes the outlawry, but makes the Ætheling die a natural death. “Frater ejus [Edmundi] ex matre Edwius, non adspernandæ probitatis adolescens, per proditorem Edricum Anglia, jubente Cnutone, cessit; diu terris jactatus et alto, angore animi ut fit corpus infectus, dum furtivo reditu inter Anglos delitescit, defungitur, et apud Tavistokium tumulatur.”

Now we must choose between these stories. The authority of Florence, backed as to the main outline of the tale by the Abingdon Chronicle, is in itself much higher than that of William of Malmesbury. But Florence’s authority is in this case somewhat lessened by the confused way in which he tells the story twice over. Also tales of secret conferences and assassinations are always suspicious, and they are specially suspicious when they bring in the name of Eadric. If Eadwig died anyhow soon after his outlawry, people would be sure to say that he was made away with by Cnut and Eadric. But if he really was so made away with, it is hard to see how the story in William of Malmesbury could arise. Also, if Eadwig was outlawed, and therefore banished, it is hard to see how even Eadric would have the chance of murdering him, unless it is meant that he was treacherously pursued during his days of grace, as Godwine is said to have been (see vol. ii. c. vii). It can hardly mean that the hand of Eadric could reach banished men in foreign lands.

The character of Cnut, at this stage of his career, throws no light on the matter either way. But it is amusing to see Thierry turning the particular promise of Cnut to Æthelweard into a general advertisement for the heads of his enemies; “‘Qui m’apportera la tête d’un de mes ennemis,’ disait le roi danois avec la ferocité d’un pirate, ‘me sera plus cher que s’il était mon frère.’”

NOTE ZZ. p. 409. THE ORIGIN OF EARL GODWINE.

The prominent position of Godwine at the time of Cnut’s death is one of the most conspicuous facts of our history, and the combined evidence of the charters and of the Biographer of Eadward has enabled me to trace up his greatness to the earliest days of Cnut’s reign. But, when we ask for the birth and parentage of the man who became the greatest of English subjects, who so nearly became the father of a new line of English kings, we find ourselves involved in utter obscurity and contradiction. Was he the son of Child Wulfnoth the South-Saxon (see above, p. 663)? Was he the great-nephew of the arch-traitor Eadric? Or was he the son of a churl somewhere near Sherstone, introduced by the Dane Ulf to the favour of Cnut? Or is it possible that none of these accounts rests on any sure foundation, and that we must remain altogether in the dark as to the birth of Godwine and the events of his early life?

I will begin with the one fact which appears to be certain, that is the name of Godwine’s father. While the accounts of him agree in nothing else, all who mention his father at all agree in giving him the name of Wulfnoth. (It is hardly worth while to mention that Fordun, v. 11, makes Godwine a son of Eadric.) I have therefore not scrupled to speak in the text of Godwine the son of Wulfnoth. Still, as Godwine was one of the commonest names at the time, it is not safe to assume every Godwine, or even every Wulfnoth, whom we come across to be the Godwine and the Wulfnoth with whom we are concerned. But any case in which the two names come together is at least worthy of notice. There is absolutely no evidence whether any of the many signatures of various Godwines in the later days of Æthelred belong to the great Earl or not. But when the Ætheling Æthelstan, in his will (Cod. Dipl. iii. 363), makes bequests to two Godwines, and distinguishes one of them as the son of Wulfnoth, this raises a strong presumption, though it does not reach positive proof, that our Godwine is the Godwine intended. And, if the expressions of the bequest fall in with any circumstances in any of the accounts of Godwine, we reach, though still not quite positive proof, yet certainly the highest degree of probability.

What then is our available evidence on the subject? Our own historians, as far as direct statement goes, are silent. Godwine appears in the Chronicles as Earl of the West-Saxons and as chief supporter of Harthacnut, without any hint as to who he was. The writers who speak of his exploits in the time of Cnut are equally silent. Even his own panegyrist, the Biographer of Eadward, has nothing whatever to tell us as to his origin. The silence of the Chronicles is not wonderful; they commonly take people’s position for granted, and introduce them without any particular description. But the absence of any direct statement in all our authorities, good and bad, is certainly remarkable, and the silence of Godwine’s own special admirer, the Biographer of Eadward, is very remarkable indeed.

But, though none of our own historians introduces Godwine as the son or nephew of Wulfnoth, or of Eadric, or of any one else, yet we have, on authority which seems at first sight to be irresistible, two statements that a Wulfnoth was the father of Godwine, one statement that Eadric was the great-uncle of Godwine. Florence (anno 1007), in a passage which I have discussed in other Notes (see pp. 655, 663), says that one of Eadric’s brothers was named Æthelmær, and that Æthelmær was the father of Wulfnoth, the father of Earl Godwine. The Canterbury Chronicle (anno 1008) describes Child Wulfnoth the South-Saxon as “Godwines fæder eorles.” Most writers put these two statements together, and assume Godwine to be the son of Child Wulfnoth and Child Wulfnoth to be the nephew of Eadric. To me it seems that the two accounts are quite distinct, and that their statements are almost irreconcileable. Florence, who speaks of Godwine the son of Wulfnoth as the nephew of Eadric, does not say that Godwine was the son of Child Wulfnoth, nor does he in any way identify Child Wulfnoth with Wulfnoth the nephew of Eadric. The Canterbury Chronicler, who makes Godwine the son of Child Wulfnoth, is equally silent as to any kindred between Child Wulfnoth and Eadric. In fact, the way in which they write seems to shut out—perhaps is designedly meant to shut out—any such kindred either way. Florence speaks of “Wlnothus, pater West-Saxonum ducis Godwini;” directly afterwards he speaks of “Suth-Saxonicus minister Wlnothus.” This is the way in which a man would speak of two distinct Wulfnoths, not of the same. He says that “Brihtric, brother of Eadric, unjustly accused Child Wulfnoth.” This is not the way in which he would speak of a charge brought by one member of the family of which he had just given the pedigree against another member of the same family. Prima facie then, the Wulfnoth spoken of under 1007 and the Wulfnoth spoken of under 1008 are two different persons. Nor is it enough to say that, in the entry under 1008, Florence is translating the Worcester Chronicle, and that he keeps its language without trying to harmonize it with what he had himself just before said. Florence is here not merely translating, for he stops to put in a character of Brihtric of his own composition. It is certain that Florence cannot be quoted on behalf of the view that Godwine was the son of Child Wulfnoth; he seems indeed designedly to exclude any such parentage by distinguishing one Wulfnoth from the other.

The three elder Chronicles, Abingdon, Worcester, Peterborough, give us no information either way. Godwine’s name does not occur in any of them till after the death of Cnut. The Abingdon Chronicle, in describing Wulfnoth, calls him simply “Wulfnoð cild.” To this description the Worcester and Peterborough Chronicles add “þone Suðseaxscian;” the Canterbury Chronicler adds again, “Godwines fæder eorles.” All the Chroniclers knew, and they all thought it right to state, that Brihtric was the brother of Eadric; that he was the uncle of the man whom he was accusing, a fact surely quite as important, is not implied in any way. The combined evidence of all the Chronicles seems to me to go to distinguish Child Wulfnoth the South-Saxon from any Wulfnoth who was nephew to Eadric. The evidence of Florence goes the same way. As to the parentage of Godwine the three elder Chroniclers are silent. Florence affirms him to have been the son of Wulfnoth the nephew of Eadric; the Canterbury Chronicler affirms him to have been the son of Child Wulfnoth the South-Saxon. I do not say that these two statements are logically contradictory; but it certainly seems to me that, as a matter of historical evidence, they are very hard to reconcile.

Now which of these two accounts is the more probable? As far as authority goes, they are much on a level. Neither statement is strictly contemporary; indeed both of them are statements which in their own nature could not be contemporary; Wulfnoth, whoever he was, is described by a form which could not have been used till long after, when his son had become far more famous than himself. Each description is a mere insertion into an earlier text; each may be a mere hasty inference from likeness of name. The authority of Florence on such a matter is quite equal to that of the Canterbury Chronicle, the latest and least authoritative of the four. His statement too, as part of an insertion of some length, describing the character and family of Eadric, has more the air of a deliberately advised statement than the three words of the Canterbury Chronicler, which might have been inserted currente calamo. On the other hand, the statement of Florence is most unlikely in itself, while that of the Canterbury Chronicler has some external support of a very remarkable kind.

If we admit that Godwine was the great-nephew of Eadric, we are at once plunged into all kinds of chronological difficulties and into the strangest of family relations. Eadric was put to death in 1017; there is nothing to show that he was at all an aged man, rather the contrary. Godwine must have been at least a grown man in 1018, when he was already an Earl. Is it possible that Godwine was two generations younger than Eadric? Again, Eadric married Eadgyth the daughter of Æthelred; Eadward the son of Æthelred married Eadgyth the daughter of Godwine. Eadric may well have been a good deal older than his wife, who, as the daughter of a man who was born in 969, must have been young, and may have been almost a child, in 1007, the probable year of her marriage (see above, p. 658). Eadgyth again must have been some years older than her half-brother Eadward, who was born between 1002 and 1005 (see p. 686). Eadward again must have been much older than his wife Eadgyth, whose parents were married in 1019 (see p. 423). Still, allowing for all this, can we conceive a man marrying the great-great-niece of his own brother-in-law? The pedigree would stand thus;

Æthelric Æthelred | | +------+-----+ +------+-----+ | | | | Æthelmær Eadric = Eadgyth Eadward. | Wulfnoth | Godwine | Eadgyth.

Eadward may easily have been twenty years older than his wife, but can we believe that he belonged to the same generation as his wife’s great-grandfather?

This seems to me to be a strong objection to the statement of Florence. On the other hand, the statement of the Canterbury Chronicle curiously falls in with the bequest in the will of the Ætheling Æthelstan; “Ic gean Godwine Wulfnóðes suna ðes landes æt Cumtúne, ðe his feder ǽr áhte.” Why should Æthelstan leave Godwine the land which his father had? The bequest follows immediately on one in which the Ætheling leaves to one Ælfmær the land which had formerly been his own (“Ic gean Ælmére ðes landes æt Hamelande ðæ he ǽr áhte”). And this is followed by a very earnest prayer to his father to confirm the grant to Ælfmær (“Ic bidde minne feder for Godes ælmihtiges lufan and for minon, ðæt he ðes geunne ðe ic him geunnen hebbe”), which is not attached to any of his other bequests. Some special cause evidently lurks under such bequests as these. They naturally suggest the idea that the lands bequeathed were confiscated lands which Æthelstan thought it right to restore, in the one case to the former owner himself, in the other case to the former owner’s son. Now the lands of Child Wulfnoth would doubtless be confiscated after his doings in 1009, and a part of them might easily come into the possession of the Ætheling. For a possession of Child Wulfnoth the South-Saxon we naturally look in his own shire. And Domesday shows us two South-Saxon Comptons, one of them held by Harold (21), the other held by a tenant of Earl Godwine (24). Here is indeed no actual proof, but there is a remarkable series of undesigned coincidences in favour of the belief that Godwine was the son of Child Wulfnoth the South-Saxon, and therefore, as I think, against the belief that he was the great-nephew of Eadric.

This evidence, if it stood alone, would probably be thought quite conclusive; but there is another account of Godwine’s birth, which we could hardly, in any case, accept in its literal shape, but the existence of which is, in any case, a phænomenon to be accounted for, and which, when stripped of its romantic details, is in itself by no means devoid of likelihood. This is that Godwine was the son of a churl near the field of Sherstone or elsewhere.

This version appears in several places and in several forms, and it seems to come from more than one independent source of tradition. We hear of it alike in English, in Danish, and in Norman writers. Thus, while some Norman writers, as William of Jumièges (viii. 9), speak of Godwine’s nobility, Wace (Roman de Rou, 9809) expressly calls him

“Quens Gwine, Ki mult esteit de pute orine.”

Among English writers it is first found in a writer of Henry the First’s time, whose accounts of things, though often very strange, are always independent. This is the chronicler whose work is printed in Mr. Edwards’ Liber de Hyda. In his account of Godwine, against whom he is bitterly prejudiced, he says (p. 288), “Fuit nempe ex infimo Anglorum genere ... et licet per omnes fere Angliæ partes potestas ejus extenderetur, principalis tamen comitatus ejus Australis erat, regio quæ lingua eorum dicitur Sudsexia.” So Ralph the Black, a chronicler of no great value who wrote early in the thirteenth century, distinctly asserts the peasant origin of Godwine. His whole story is full of mythical elements, still it is of some importance, because some of the statements in it clearly do not come from the common sources. His story runs thus (p. 160); “Godwinus Comes filius bubulci fuit; in mensa regis Edwardi offa suffocatus est, et ab Haraldo filio sub mensa extractus. Hic Godwinus, a rege Cnutone nutritus, processu temporis in Daciam cum breve regis transmissus, callide duxit sororem Cnutonis.” (See Note EEE.)

One of the fullest accounts among those which assert Godwine’s lowly origin, and that which has met with most attention from modern writers, is the picturesque tale in the Knytlinga Saga (c. 11; Johnstone, p. 131). Earl Ulf, pursuing the flying English at Sherstone, loses his way. He meets a youth driving cattle, who tells him that his name is Godwine (Gudini), and whom he asks to show him his way to the Danish ships. Godwine speaks of the difficulty of so doing, when the whole country is so enraged against the Danes; he refuses the Earl’s offered gift of a gold ring, but says that he will do what he can for him, and that, if he succeeds, Ulf may reward him at his pleasure. He then takes the Earl to the house of his father Wulfnoth (Ulfnad), who is described as a rich yeoman (bondi), living in very comfortable style. The Earl is well entertained, especially with good drink; he is greatly pleased with the house and its inhabitants, old and young, and stays the whole of the next day there in great comfort. At night Ulf and Godwine are mounted on two good horses, well caparisoned. Wulfnoth and his wife remind Ulf of the dangerous errand on which they are sending their only son, and they trust to his gratitude for a recompense. The Earl is charmed with the handsome countenance and ready speech of the youth; they ride all night, and reach Cnut’s ships the next morning. Ulf treats Godwine as his son, places him by his side, gives him his sister Gytha in marriage, presents him to Cnut, and procures for him the dignity of Earl.

Here we have a story which, whatever else we say of it, at least fits in with the chronology of the time. It must be a confused or perverted shape of the same tradition when Walter Map (199) tells a story in which the part of Ulf is assigned to King Æthelred. The King loses his way in hunting, and comes alone at night to ask shelter in the house of his neat-herd (“ad domus cujusdam custodis vaccarum suarum”). The neat-herd’s son Godwine (“impiger filius custodis, puer nomine Godwinus, pulchrior et melior quam ipsi daret linea priorum”) does all kinds of services for the royal guest, and specially provides him with a supper which would seem to imply a boundless appetite on the part of the unready King. He thus wins the King’s heart, who presently promotes him in every way, makes him a knight, and gives him the earldom of Gloucester (“tulit ergo ipsum rex in thalamum suum, et processu temporis sublimavit super omnes principes regni, et cum cingulo militiæ comitatum ei Gloucestriæ contulit”). The “bubulci filius” shows all manner of natural gifts in his new elevation, and makes himself famous among both Christians and Saracens. He is above all things protector of the English coast, freeing it from pirates, and making England the terror of all nations, instead of being, as she had been before him, the common prey of all of them (“pererrabat omnes Angliæ portus, tum terra tum mari, piratas omnes destruens; et facta est Anglia per ejus operam timor omnium circum jacentium terrarum quæ fuerat earum direptio et præda”). Presently Cnut comes, invited, according to this writer’s story, by the English themselves (see above, p. 693). The story of the war is told with great confusion, but Godwine appears (204) as the chief supporter of Eadmund (“At in hac quid fecit Godwinus tempestate? Multa et valida manu militum collecta, Edmundum Edelredi filium advocavit, et properanti contra eos occurrunt Chnuto apud Durherst in valle Gloucestriæ super Sabrinam”). Then comes the story of the single combat of Cnut and Eadmund (see above, p. 706).

Now, what are we to make of these stories? The one which is most likely to be true in its main features is that in the Knytlinga Saga; but the saga is a saga, and I have given some specimens of its inaccuracies and confusions. In this very story it would be hard to reconcile the author’s conception of the battle of Sherstone with the truth of history; Godwine also was not the only son of his parents, as we shall in course of time hear of his brother (see Edwards, Introduction to Liber de Hyda, xxxvii.; Mon. Angl. ii. 428, 430); and it is more amazing still when the saga goes on to tell us that Godwine and Gytha were the parents, not only of Swegen, Harold, and Tostig, but also of Morkere and Waltheof. Such a tale is not history; the utmost amount of credit which I should ever think of giving it would be to admit it as evidence of a tradition that Godwine was not of illustrious birth, that he was by origin ceorl and not eorl, and that he was in some way connected with Earl Ulf. The details might be devised to account for an Englishman of lowly birth marrying the sister of the great Danish Earl. We may, I think, be sure that the real legend is that which attributes Godwine’s rise to a service done to Ulf, and that the story of Walter Map which puts Æthelred instead of Ulf is a later version. Nothing can be wilder than Walter’s general story, but we may be inclined to believe that he preserves a piece of genuine history when he speaks of Godwine’s services towards Æthelred and Eadmund. This agrees in a remarkable way with the bequest and the will of Æthelstan, if we take that as referring to Godwine the Earl. The account in Ralph the Black is most likely an abridgement of that in Walter Map, as both use the same words (“bubulci filius”), and both tell the same story of Godwine’s marriage (see below, p. 746), which is quite different from that in the Knytlinga Saga. Yet we may take Ralph’s words (“a rege Cnutone nutritus”) as a correction of Walter’s story about Æthelred. The account in the Hyde writer is remarkable on two grounds. It asserts Godwine to have been of low birth; it also, like the Canterbury Chronicle, specially connects him with Sussex, while most of the later writers specially connect him with Kent. On the other hand, if any one ventures to put any faith in the geography of the Knytlinga Saga, Godwine must have come from some place near the borders of Gloucestershire and Wiltshire. Walter Map does not mention any particular place, but, according to his usual practice of drawing everything to his own side of England, makes Godwine Earl, not of Kent or Sussex, but of Gloucester.

We have then a distinct tradition, turning up in several quarters, some of which at least seem to be independent of one another, which tradition asserts Godwine to have been a man of churlish birth. Taking the story in the Knytlinga Saga as the genuine form of the legend, the English writers and Wace exaggerate, as in such a case they were sure to do, the lowliness of Godwine’s origin. So do the only modern writers who adopt the story. These are Sharon Turner (Hist. Angl. Sax. ii. 494), who talks about “poverty,” “humble mansion,” &c., and Thierry (i. 160), who talks about a “cabane.” But the Wulfnoth of the saga is not a poor man; he is a ceorl and not a thegn; but he has everything good about him, good house, good drink, good horses. His treatment of Ulf seems to be his usual way of entertaining strangers, while the astonishing supper given to Æthelred in Walter Map’s version is a special effort for the purpose. In the Danish writer’s picture, Wulfnoth is, in modern phrase, not a labourer, not even a tenant farmer, but clearly a rich yeoman. Such a man might, in the England of those days, easily rise to thegn’s rank (see p. 90). Eadric had risen from such a rank, or very possibly from a lowlier one (see above, p. 655), to be Ealdorman of the Mercians and son-in-law of the King. Still the rise from the yeoman’s comfortable house to the earldom of the West-Saxons in one generation and to the throne of England in the next is not an every day event. How far is such an exaltation probable in the present case?

I assume that the story of the Knytlinga Saga is altogether irreconcileable with either of the others. Sharon Turner indeed, like Florence in some of his weaker moments, adopts all three stories at once. He accepts the pedigree given by Florence without hesitation, and seemingly without thinking it at all contradictory to the tale of Godwine’s lowly origin. That tale he adopts in its fulness, and he does his best to weave the two together. He even conceives Wulfnoth in his humble estate as probably remembering the high fortunes of his uncle Eadric, and hoping that a similar good luck may attend his own child. Somewhat earlier, in recording the story of Brihtric and Wulfnoth, Mr. Turner calls the latter “the father of Earl Godwine,” and, though he remarks in a note that the words are absent from some MSS. of the Chronicles, he does not appear to doubt Child Wulfnoth’s paternity. Now it would be remarkable if a nephew of the powerful Eadric remained in the condition of a herdsman or even in that of a yeoman, while Eadric himself had risen to such greatness, and had raised at least one of his brothers with him. Yet this, however unlikely, is at least possible. But possibility itself can hardly be stretched so far as to make Wulfnoth the naval commander of 1009 the same as Wulfnoth the yeoman of 1016. Doubtless princes and lords, under the frown of fortune, have before now lurked in much lowlier disguises; but one who, outlaw as he was, still had twenty ships at his bidding, was far more likely to take service under King Swegen or to go on with his doings as wiking on his own account, than to betake himself to the tilth of the ground in a western shire. I think we may safely assert that, if Godwine was the son of a West of England yeoman, he was certainly not the son of the South-Saxon naval captain, and was not likely to be the grand-nephew of Ealdorman Eadric.

And now, what is the measure of likelihood in the story itself? First of all, what is always of no small consequence in these questions, if we grant the truth of the tale in its main outlines, we can understand how the other tale arose, while the reverse process is by no means so easy. For, if the tale of the Knytlinga Saga be a fiction, it must be pure invention without motive. One does not see how any confusion or misconception can have led to it. The story of Godwine’s lowly birth is not introduced in the saga, whatever we say of Wace and the Hyde writer, with the least notion of depreciating him. One therefore hardly sees why any one should go out of his way to invent the tale. But if there were several contemporary Wulfnoths, especially if the real one was an obscure person, mere misconception might lead Florence or his informants to fasten the paternity upon the wrong Wulfnoth. Or, if falsification is supposed, its motives are much more obvious than in the other case. To connect Godwine either with Eadric or with Child Wulfnoth would suit foes who wish to brand one whom they called a traitor as the kinsman of earlier traitors. It might suit Danish friends to represent him as connected with one who had so great a share in setting up the Danish throne in England. And, as Eadric, with all his crimes, was clearly the leader of a powerful party, the invention might even suit some among Godwine’s English friends, who might still regard a connexion with Eadric as conferring more of honour than of shame.

Again, if we accept the legend in the saga, we can understand the rather mysterious way in which Godwine himself comes on the stage under the patronage of Cnut and Ulf, better than if we suppose him to have been a member of a powerful English family. We can especially understand the astonishing silence of his own panegyrist. If Godwine had been a scion of any eminent family, or had been of kin to any famous, or even infamous, men, we should surely, somewhere or other, find him described accordingly. But the mass of writers, as we have seen, are utterly silent; no one introduces him with any description at all; those who connect him with Eadric or with Child Wulfnoth do it backwards; they describe Wulfnoth as the father of Godwine, not Godwine as the son of Wulfnoth.

I think then that, if this story stood by itself, there would be little difficulty in accepting it. I mean of course in accepting the general outline of the tale, namely that Godwine was a yeoman’s son who had somehow attracted the favour of Ulf, and who was by him introduced to Cnut. Details are quite another matter. The whole narrative of the war of Cnut and Eadmund in the Knytlinga Saga is so utterly confused and unhistorical that nothing can be safely said as to time, place, or circumstance. And the story in Walter Map, as far as concerns the first rise of Godwine, is even wilder than the saga itself. But the tradition of Godwine’s churlish origin, taken by itself, would have much to be said for it. I am inclined to think that it might hold its ground against the version in Florence. But the statement of the Canterbury Chronicler, backed up by the will of Æthelstan, is a more formidable opponent. The two descriptions fit singularly well into one another, and the coincidence is, on the face of it, undesigned. It is of course possible that Godwine the son of Wulfnoth and legatee of Æthelstan may not have been the great Earl; it is possible that, being the great Earl, he may have been the son of some other Wulfnoth, and not of the South-Saxon Child. But when we put together the Canterbury Chronicle, the will of Æthelstan, and the entries in Domesday, their cumulative force is so great as to make such explanations mere possibilities and no more. If we accept the will as referring to the great Godwine, and if we further accept my conjecture as to the death of Æthelstan (see above, p. 700), we may look on Godwine as a brave young warrior, whose services had, even before the death of Æthelred, entitled him in the Ætheling’s opinion to a restitution of the lands forfeited by his father. This same conception of him, which might well be genuine tradition, appears in an exaggerated form in the version of Walter Map. This view of him is in no way inconsistent with the fact of the favour which he afterwards found with Ulf and Cnut. Neither is his favour with Ulf and Cnut inconsistent with the story of his yeoman origin, but quite the reverse. The main difficulty, one which I do not see the way to get over, is that Wulfnoth the churl and Child Wulfnoth the South-Saxon cannot be the same man.

The two stories thus become alternatives between which we must choose. Godwine was either the son of Child Wulfnoth, or the son of Wulfnoth the churl; in neither case do I believe him to have been the great-nephew of Eadric. I once inclined, of course with the necessary allowances, to the story in the Knytlinga Saga; I had not then weighed the arguments suggested by the will of Æthelstan and the entries in Domesday. On the strength of these last I now incline to the statement of the Canterbury Chronicler. But I leave the critical reader to decide.

NOTE AAA. pp. 409, 425. THE WEST-SAXON EARLDOM.

There is, I think, quite evidence to show that Godwine was raised to Earl’s rank very early in the reign of Cnut, but that he was not invested with the vast government of which we afterwards find him in possession till some years later.

I do not try to identify any of the signatures of “Godwine minister” in the later days of Æthelred. There are a good many of them, and some of them may be signatures of the great Earl; but the name Godwine is so common that it is utterly impossible to say anything either way. But Godwine undoubtedly signs as Earl from the very beginning of Cnut’s reign. The earliest charters of Cnut are of the year 1018, and Godwine signs one of these (Cod. Dipl. iv. 3) as “dux,” though seemingly, as one would expect, as the junior Earl. But, as Cnut kept Wessex in his own hands, while he appointed Earls over Northumberland and Mercia, Godwine could not have been Earl over all Wessex so early as this. He must have been simply the local Earl of some one shire. That shire may have been Kent. He is called Earl of Kent by Eadmer (“Cantiæ comes magnanimus,” p. 4), and it is his usual description in later accounts. But writers who did not take in the position of an Earl of the West-Saxons, and who did not understand that his jurisdiction took in Kent, may have called Godwine Earl of Kent simply because they found him acting as Earl at Dover in 1051. And, on the other hand, we have just seen (see above, p. 727) that there were other versions which call his first earldom Sussex, and even Gloucester. I do not pretend to settle the question, and it is of no great moment. The one important point is that Godwine was raised to high rank in the very beginning of Cnut’s reign, and was raised to higher rank still somewhat later.

That Godwine at a later time, under Harthacnut and Eadward, held an earldom which took in all Wessex—that is the old kingdoms of Wessex, Kent, and Sussex—there is no doubt. He appears as the immediate ruler of Wessex from the death of Cnut onward, and he is distinctly called “West-Saxonum dux” (Fl. Wig. 1041; cf. 1009). It might indeed be thought that his promotion to this greater government did not take place till after the death of Cnut, when Godwine acted as the minister of the absent Harthacnut. But it is clear from the Biographer of Eadward (392) that he was raised to some special rank by Cnut at the time which I have stated in the text. He attracted Cnut’s notice from the very beginning. “Ubi ... regnum cessit Cnuto regi vario eventu bellorum, inter novos adepti regni principes regio adscitos lateri, hic Godwinus ... probatus est.” This quite falls in with his signature as Earl in 1018. But after Cnut’s visit to Denmark in 1019, after Godwine’s exploits and his marriage (see pp. 422–424, and Note DDD), we read, “Quum repatriaret [Cnutus] in Angliam, feliciter actis omnibus, totius pene regni ab ipso constituitur dux et bajulus.” So in the next page we read, “Regnante supradicto Cnuto rege, floruit hic in ejus aula primus inter summos regni proceres; et agente æquitatis ratione, quod scribebat scriptum, quod delebat omnes censebant delendum. Et in hujus potentatus solio potenter viguit, donec et hunc regem et ejus totam stirpem Ille qui regna pro libitu suo transfert succidit.” That is, in plain words, Cnut on his return to England in 1020 invested Godwine with an office which made him the first man in the kingdom, and which he kept through the reigns of Cnut’s sons. It was therefore from Cnut and in 1020 that Godwine received the office which we find him holding under Harthacnut, that of “West-Saxonum dux.” The charters tell the same tale. From 1019 onwards (see Cod. Dipl. iv. 9 et seqq.; vi. 179 et seqq.) Godwine always signs before every other Englishman, while in 1018 (iv. 3) Æthelweard signed before him. For a while (iv. 9, 14, 17, 29) we find some of Cnut’s Danish Earls and kinsmen, Thurkill or Eric, signing before him, but Godwine always signs among them, and gradually, as Cnut’s government became more and more English, it became the established rule for Godwine to sign at the head of the laymen. That Godwine then was Earl of the West-Saxons uninterruptedly from 1020 to 1051 there can I think be no doubt. Of the nature of the office and the policy of the appointment I have spoken in the text. It is plain that it was something quite new, something quite different from the ordinary ealdormanship of a shire in Kent or elsewhere.

“Bajulus,” the word used by the Biographer here and afterwards in p. 401 to express Godwine’s position, exactly answers to the Eastern Vizier, and the title is specially common in Sicily and the Levant. But the word is the parent of all the various forms of bailiff, bail, and such like. See Ducange in Bajulus, and Roquefort, Glossaire de la Langue Romane, in Bailleul.

Thierry has an amusing glimmering of truth when he says (i. 168), “Après une grande victoire remportée sur les Norwégiens, Godwin obtint la dignité d’earl, ou chef politique de l’ancien royaume de West-Sex, reduit alors à l’état de province.” He saw by some happy instinct, for the Life of Eadward was not then published, that Godwine’s great promotion followed on his exploits in the North; but he turned Godwine’s enemies, who are in every account called either Swedes or Wends, into Norwegians, and he placed the appointment between 1030 and 1035, after Cnut’s conquest of Norway. Moreover, of all Cnut’s dominions Wessex was just the part which was the furthest from being reduced to the form of a province.

NOTE BBB. p. 410. THE MARRIAGE OF CNUT AND EMMA.

Cnut’s first wife or concubine is incidentally mentioned in the three principal Chronicles under 1035, in describing the accession of her supposed son Harold. According to Abingdon and Worcester, “Harold sæde þæt he Cnutes sunu wære and þære oðre Ælfgyfe [Ælfgyfe þære Hamtunisca. Wig.], þeh hit na soð nære.” Peterborough has, “Sume men sædon be Harolde þæt he wære Cnutes sunu cynges and Ælfgive Ælfelmes dohtor ealdormannes; ac hit þuhte swiðe ungeleaflic manegum mannum.” We thus learn that “the other Ælfgifu” was daughter of the murdered Ealdorman Ælfhelm and that she was known as Ælfgifu of Northampton. We also learn that the alleged parentage of her son Harold was generally doubted.

Florence (1035) in describing the succession of Swegen in Norway and of Harold in England, calls their supposed mother “Northamtunensis Alfgiva, filia videlicet Alfhelmi ducis et nobilis matronæ Wlfrunæ.” He goes on to mention the popular belief which I have mentioned in the text at p. 411. William of Malmesbury (ii. 188) says, “Haroldus, quem fama filium Cnutonis ex filia Elfelmi comitis loquebatur.”

There is in all this no hint that Ælfgifu of Northampton was in any sense Cnut’s wife; but Roger of Wendover, who elsewhere (i. 473) calls her “Algiva concubina,” says (i. 462), “Anno Domini MXVIII. obiit Algiva, Elfelmi Comitis filia et uxor regis Cnutonis, ex qua duos habuit filios, Suanum videlicet et Haroldum, licet alii dicant eos ex fornicatione generatos.” He then adds, “Misit ergo Cnuto in Normanniam ad ducem Ricardum propter Emmam sororem suam,” &c. The Chronica Regis Cnutonis in the Liber de Hyda (267), which is followed by Roger of Wendover with a good many changes, calls her “Elgiva uxor sua regina,” and directly after says, “defuncta uxore Cnutonis regis, Elfgiva nomine, idem rex misit in Normanniam,” as in Roger. Bromton too (906) first calls her “concubina,” and perverts her name into Ailena; but afterwards (934) she, for it must be the same, is Cnut’s “prima uxor sive amasia.”

In the Knytlinga Saga (c. 16) Swegen appears as the son of Cnut and “Alfifa,” as he also does in Snorro (Laing, ii. 344 et seqq.), according to whom Ælfgifu survived Cnut and governed Norway in the name of her son. So Saxo (196) calls Swegen “quem ex Alvina sustulerat.” He had before (192) spoken of her as the mistress, first of Saint Olaf, then of Cnut. “Eodem tempore Alvvinam ab Olavo adamatam, Canutus eximia matronæ specie delectatus, stupro petiit.” Olaf is thereby “concubinæ facibus spoliatus.” As far as one can make anything out of Saxo’s chronology, this is just after the battle of Assandun.

The Encomiast, in recording Emma’s care, before she marries Cnut, to secure the succession for her own children, says incidentally (ii. 16), “dicebatur enim ab alia quadam rex filios habuisse.” Again, in iii. 1, when recording the accession of Harold, he describes him as “quemdam Haroldum, quem esse filium æstimatione asseritur cujusdam ejusdem regis Cnutonis concubinæ; plurimorum vero assertio eumdem Haroldum perhibet furtim fuisse subreptum parturienti ancillæ, impositum autem cameræ languentis concubinæ. Quod veracius credi potest.”

Notwithstanding the pious care of Roger of Wendover and the Hyde writer to marry this Ælfgifu to Cnut, and to kill her off before his marriage with Emma, there can be no doubt that she was at most a Danish wife after the manner of Popa and Sprota (see pp. 206, 253), that she was alive at the time of Emma’s marriage, and that she survived Cnut. Moreover, if Cnut’s connexion with Ælfgifu began when Saxo says it did, one at least of her sons must have been born after Emma’s marriage. Cnut, it is to be supposed, reformed in these matters, as in others. The Ramsey historian (c. 80; Gale, p. 437) calls him “usus venerei parcus,” and in his Laws (51–57, Thorpe, i. 404–6) he is strict against all breaches of chastity.

And now for the marriage with Emma. There is indeed something very strange about the whole thing. William of Malmesbury (ii. 180) is uncertain whether Emma or her brother Richard was most disgraced by the marriage. “Ignores majore illius dedecore qui dederit, an feminæ quæ consenserit ut thalamo illius caleret qui virum infestaverit, filios effugaverit.” Not to enter into this delicate question, it is worth noticing that Cnut was now about twenty-two, while Emma, married in 1002, could not have been under thirty, and considering the ages of her parents, the daughter of Richard and Gunnor may have been much older. The Scandinavian writers are not startled at a much greater disparity of years, as they boldly make Emma the mother of all the children of Æthelred. (See above, p. 688.) According to the Knytlinga Saga (Johnstone, 129), Emma was in England at the moment of Æthelred’s death, upon which she prepared to leave the country, but Cnut persuaded her to stay and marry him. The war of Cnut and Eadmund is therefore, according to this view, war between a stepfather and a stepson. I need not go about to show that Eadmund was not the son of Emma, and it is equally certain that Cnut did not marry Emma till July 1017, eight months after the death of Eadmund, and that she was in Normandy at the time of Cnut’s proposal. But that she was in England at the time of Æthelred’s death (as is distinctly affirmed by R. Howden, ii. 240), and that Cnut saw her during the course of the war, is quite possible. See above, p. 700. As to her coming to England, there is something amusing in the form of words employed, with some slight variations, by all the English Chroniclers; “And þa toforan Kal. Augusti het se cyng feccean him þæs oðres kynges lafe Æðelredes him to wife, Ricardes dohtor.” She signs Cnut’s charters from this time, beginning in 1018, sometimes as Emma, but more commonly as Ælfgifu. In Cod. Dipl. iv. 9 she is “Ælfgive thoro consecrata regio.”

According to William of Malmesbury (ii. 196), Emma not only hated the memory of Æthelred, which is not very wonderful, but extended her dislike to her children by him; “hæreditario scilicet odio parentis in prolem, nam magis Cnutonem et amaverat vivum et laudabat defunctum.” This account receives a most singular confirmation from the language of her Encomiast, from which it is plain that she wished her first marriage to be utterly forgotten. Not a hint is allowed to escape the courtly panegyrist which might imply that Emma had any earlier connexion with England, or that she had ever been married to Æthelred or to any other man. Cnut, after he had established himself in England and had got rid of Eadric (“omnibus rite dispositis,” ii. 16, cf. c. 15), wanted a wife worthy to be the partner of his Empire (“ut inventam hanc legaliter adquireret et adeptam Imperii sui consortem faceret”). He sends and seeks through many kingdoms and cities, but no help-meet for him is found (“longe lateque quæsita, vix tandem digna reperitur”). At last the Imperial bride is found (“inventa est hæc Imperialis sponsa”) in Normandy; Cnut, we are told, specially preferred the Norman connexion, because the Normans were a victorious people who had established themselves in Gaul by force of arms (“pro hoc præcipue quod erat oriunda ex victrici gente, quæ sibi partem Galliæ vendicaverat invitis Francigenis et eorum principe”). An opportunity is of course seized on for a special “encomium” on the lady herself. Deputy-wooers (“proci”) are sent with gifts and promises; but the prudent Emma, hearing that Cnut had children by another woman, will have nothing to say to him till he swears that none but her own children shall succeed him in the kingdom; “Abnegat illa se umquam Chnutonis sponsam fieri, nisi illi jusjurando affirmaret, quod numquam alterius conjugis filium post se regnare faceret nisi ejus, si forte illi Deus ex eo filium dedisset. Dicebatur enim ab alia quadam rex filios habuisse, unde illa suis prudenter providens, scivit ipsis sagaci animo profutura præordinare.” Cnut agrees, and on these terms they marry. But, by a nearly unparalleled flight of daring (but compare the way in which Matilda is spoken of. See vol. iii. p. 655), the widow of Æthelred, the mother of Eadward, Ælfred, and Godgifu, is twice spoken of as a virgin; “Placuit ergo regi verbum virginis, et jusjurando facto virgini placuit voluntas regis.” Presently (c. 18) we hear of the birth of Harthacnut; and we are told that Cnut kept Harthacnut with him as the heir of his throne, while his other lawful sons were sent into Normandy for education (“alios liberales filios educandos direxerunt Normanniæ, istum hunc retinentes sibi utpote futurum hæredem regni”). Now we know that Cnut and Emma had no son except Harthacnut, and by comparing this passage with a later one (iii. 2) it is plain that the sons spoken of are Eadward and Ælfred, and that the intention of the writer is to pass them off as younger sons of Cnut and Emma. A more impudent case of courtly falsehood can hardly be found; but these daring statements of her contemporary flatterer show how little Emma loved either her elder sons or the memory of their father.

NOTE CCC. p. 414. THE FAMILY OF LEOFWINE OF MERCIA.

Of Leofwine himself, as far as I know, no single political action is recorded. But the important part played by his son Leofric and his children naturally awakens a certain interest in the whole family. Our curiosity as to their earlier history would be amply gratified if we could put any trust in a document which is printed in the Monasticon, iii. 192, and which is drawn out in a tabular shape by Sir Francis Palgrave, English Commonwealth, ii. ccxci. This is a complete pedigree of the family, which is attached to one of the manuscripts of Florence, but which its contents show to be not earlier than the reign of John. According to this document, Leofwine was the son of Leofric, the son of Ælfgar, the son of Ælfgar, the son of Leofric, who is placed in the days of Æthelbald of Mercia (716–757; see p. 38). Our Leofwine is made contemporary with Æthelstan, Eadmund, Eadwig, and Eadgar. Now Agêsilaos was the son of Archidamos, and Lewis the Twelfth was the son of the Duke of Orleans who was taken at Azincourt; still it would be amazing if a man who was not only born, but seemingly an Ealdorman, between 926 and 940 was succeeded by a son who himself lived till 1057, and whose widow, seemingly much of his own age, survived the Norman Conquest. Leofric also himself, the famous Earl of the days of Eadward, is made to flourish and to found monasteries for a space of about eighty-two years. He is described as “nobilis fundator multorum cœnobiorum, tempore Edwardi secundi, Ethelredi, Cnutonis, Haroldi, Hardicanuti, et Edwardi tertii regum Angliæ.” Such a document is self-convicted. It is simply of a piece with the wonderful stories of Harold and Gyrth surviving to a præternatural age.

We shall, as usual, come nearer to the truth by turning to the charters. We find a signature of “Leofwine dux” in 994 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 280), from which time his signatures, if they are all those of the same person, go on through the reign of Æthelred and into the reign of Cnut. From one signature in 997 (Cod. Dipl, iii. 304) he appears to have been Ealdorman of the Hwiccas (“Wicciarum provinciarum dux”), but as this charter is signed by two other Leofwines with the rank of thegn, it is of course possible that one of these may have been the Ealdorman of the days of Cnut. Considering the rarity of the name Northman, borne by one of Leofwine’s sons, I should be inclined to look for the father of our Leofwine in a “Norðman dux” who signs in 994 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 280); only, if so, the father signs after the son.

Leofwine, as I hold, succeeded Eadric in the head earldom of Mercia in 1017, and he was most likely succeeded by his son Leofric at some time between 1024 and 1032. The last signature of Leofwine comes between 1021 and 1024 (Cod. Dipl. iv. 29), and he was living and acting in 1023 (see Cod. Dipl. iv. 26). The first undoubted signature of Leofric as “dux” is in 1032 (Cod. Dipl. iv. 39). He therefore succeeded his father in some earldom at some time between those dates, and he was clearly head Earl of the Mercians in 1035 (see p. 482). The natural inference is that it was in the head earldom of the Mercians that he succeeded his father, and therefore that Leofwine, hitherto subordinate Ealdorman of the Hwiccas, was raised to the chief government of all Mercia when that post became vacant by the death of Eadric.

Florence, under 1017, in recording the execution of Northman, gives him the title of “dux” and calls him “filius Leofwini ducis, frater scilicet Leofrici comitis.” This distinction between “dux” and “comes” is unusual. I can only guess that it means that Leofwine and Northman had borne the title of Ealdorman under the old state of things, while Leofric was only Eorl under the new. And that this is the ground of the distinction seems the more likely, because, in a case where the distinction was purely local, where the Chronicles in 991 call Thored Eorl and Ælfric Ealdorman (see p. 279), Florence puts them together as duces. The Chronicles however do not mention Northman as an Ealdorman, but rather imply the contrary; “On þisum geare wæs Eadric ealdorman ofslagen, and Norðman Leofwines sunu ealdormannes.” Florence goes on to say that Leofric succeeded Northman in his government; “Leofricum, pro Nortmanno suo germano, rex constituit ducem, et eum postmodum valde carum habuit.” But I find no certain signature of Leofric as “dux” till 1032. His signature with that title is indeed put to the document in Cod. Dipl. iv. 32 which professes to belong to 1026, but of the doubtful nature of that document I have already spoken (see above, p. 667). But in 1023 (Cod. Dipl. iv. 27) he signs as “minister” a grant of Cnut to another man of his own name, Leofric son of Bonda; and in the last charter signed by Earl Leofwine his son seems to be pointedly distinguished from him, “Ego Leofwine dux. Ego Leofric.” I therefore cannot help suspecting that he did not become an Earl till his father’s death, and that Florence forestalled his appointment by confounding it with the elevation of his father. If he was appointed to a subordinate earldom in 1017, it was most likely that of Chester; at least he figures in later and spurious documents as “Leycestriæ comes.”

Besides Northman and Leofric, Leofwine had a son named Eadwine who died in the battle of Rhyd-y-Groes (see p. 506), and another son Godwine. Godwine had a son Æthelwine, who was given, probably as a child, as a hostage to Cnut, and had his hands cut off (“a Danis obses manibus truncatus est”) in the mutilation of the hostages in 1014 (see p. 371). This curious fact we learn from Heming’s Worcester Cartulary, 259, 260.

The relations of Cnut towards this family are singular. The father and one of his sons are high in his favour. A second son is put to death, and the son of a third son is cruelly mutilated. The difference is, I suspect, to be found in the gradual change of Cnut’s own character.

NOTE DDD. p. 415. THE DEATH OF EADRIC.

The accounts of the death of Eadric form an excellent example of the growth of a legend. Each writer knows more about it than the one immediately before him.

The three elder Chronicles, under the year 1017, simply record the execution of Eadric; “On þisum geare wæs Eadric ealdorman ofslagen.”

The Canterbury Chronicler adds the place, London, and volunteers his own conviction that the execution was righteous; “Eadric ealdorman wearð ofslagan on Lundene swyðe rihtlice.”

Florence adds that the execution happened at Christmas, in the palace, and that the body of Eadric was thrown over the wall of the city, and left unburied. He also tells us Cnut’s motive, namely fear lest Eadric should some day betray him, as he had betrayed his former lords Æthelred and Eadmund.

William of Malmesbury (ii. 181) knows Eadric’s fate after death; “Putidum spiritum dimisit ad inferos.” He has also more to tell us than his predecessors about his last sayings and doings in this world. Cnut and Eadric quarrelled, he does not know about what; but Eadric began to go through all his services, and to tell, amongst other things, how he first forsook Eadmund and then slew him for Cnut’s sake. Cnut waxes wroth, and says that Eadric must die, because he has slain his own lord and Cnut’s sworn brother. His blood shall be on his own head, because he has borne witness against himself that he has slain the Lord’s anointed. For fear of a tumult the King has Eadric at once stifled to death (“fauces elisus”) in the room where they were, namely Cnut’s own bed-chamber, and has the body thrown through the window into the Thames.

Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 756 E) makes Eadric come to Cnut directly after the murder of Eadmund and salute him as sole King. Cnut asks the meaning of the title, which Eadric explains, saying how he has brought about Eadmund’s death. Cnut answers that for so great a service he will set him higher than all the Witan of England. So he cuts off his head, and sets it on a pole on the highest tower in London.

Æthelred of Rievaux (X Scriptt. 365) has the same story with a few verbal changes. He sets the head on the highest gate of London. The gate and the tower may or may not be the same thing, but we have now clearly come to the beginning of the practice of exposing heads on Temple-Bar.

Walter Map (De Nugis, 207), who never names Eadric, tells nearly the same story of the anonymous servant of Eadmund of whom he has so much to tell us. After Eadmund’s death at Ross, the servant hastens to Cnut and tells him that he is now full King instead of half-King (“rex integer qui semirex heri fuisti”), and begs him to reward the man who had removed his enemy. Cnut (“licet tristissimus, placido vultu retulit”) asks who his friend is, as he will set him high above all his comrades (“faciam eum præcelsum præ consortibus suis”). The servant says it is himself, on which the King has him hanged on a lofty oak, a kind of death which looks as if Walter Map did not place the story in London.

Roger of Wendover (i. 460) tells William of Malmesbury’s story, only adding the subject of dispute between Cnut and Eadric, which William of Malmesbury could not tell us. Eadric complained of being deprived of his earldom of Mercia, a singular complaint, as Cnut had only that year confirmed him in it. He also tells Henry of Huntingdon’s story as an alternative.

Bromton (X Scriptt. 908) gives both versions with slight improvements on each. William’s version is enriched by the detail that Eadric’s hands and feet were tied when he was thrown out of the window. This was the mode of his death, for in this version we do not hear of his being stifled. To the other story the only addition is that, when his head was set on the gate, his body was thrown over the wall.

Lastly, Knighton (X Scriptt. 2318) follows William, but gives us Eadric’s speech at greater length and tells us that it was made before dinner. Also we now hear that he was thrown into the Thames from the window of a high tower; his hands and feet were tied, and he was thrown out by a machine—a sling or catapult.

These English versions seem to form a series of themselves, and to grow without foreign help. But in the Encomium Emmæ (ii. 15) we have a version older than any of these except perhaps that of the Chronicles, which shows how the intentional or careless perversion of a contemporary writer may depart as widely from the truth as any feat of the imagination of legend-makers. The Encomiast, as we have seen (see above, p. 711), leaves the death of Eadmund shrouded in mystery, and does not say a word implicating Eadric; he also leaves out Eadric’s appointment to the earldom of Mercia, because his object is to represent Cnut as immediately punishing all who had dealt in any way treacherously towards Eadmund. Eadric is therefore made to demand a reward for his treachery at Assandun (“Edricus qui a bello fugerat, quum prœmia pro hoc ipso a rege postularet, acsi hoc pro ejus victoria fecisset”). Cnut says that he who had been faithless to one lord will not be faithful to another, and he accordingly bids Earl Eric to cut off his head with his axe. “Ille vero nil moratus bipennem extulit, eique ictu valido caput amputavit, ut hoc exemplo discant milites regibus suis esse fideles, non infideles.”

In the English series the turning-point is when, in the version of William of Malmesbury, there comes in the first allusion to the Amalekite who slew Saul. When this parallel was once thought of, the true date of Eadric’s execution, namely the thirteenth month after Eadmund’s death, no longer suited the tale; the date of the story was therefore moved back, and Eadric was made to announce the murder of Eadmund and to be put to death at once. For the details, the writers at each stage of course drew on their imaginations.

NOTE EEE. p. 422. THE EXPLOITS AND MARRIAGE OF GODWINE.

I copy this tale from Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 757 B) in the belief that, though its details are most likely mythical, Godwine really rose higher in Cnut’s favour through some conspicuous warlike exploit during Cnut’s visit to Denmark in 1019. The Biographer of Eadward (392) distinctly asserts as much, and he makes both Godwine’s marriage with Gytha and his promotion to the West-Saxon earldom to be the rewards of the qualities which he showed on this journey. Cnut goes to Denmark to subdue certain rebels; “absenti enim rebellare paraverant collo effreni ejus abjicientes potentiam.” This may refer either to disturbances in Denmark itself, of which we get some slight hints elsewhere (see Note GGG, and above, p. 669), or to revolts on the parts of subject nations. Godwine goes with him—“adhæsit comes individuus per omnem viam.” Cnut remarks Godwine’s great qualities, not only his eloquence (“quam profundus eloquio”) but his military capacity; “Hic ejus prudentiam, hic laborum constantiam, hic virtutis militiam, hic attentius expertus est idem rex tanti principis valentiam.” He feels that such a man will be most useful to him in the government of his newly won kingdom of England. He therefore admits him to his most secret counsels and gives him his sister in marriage (“ponit eum sibi a secretis, dans illi in conjugem sororem suam”), and on his return to England he gives him the great promotion of which I have spoken in an earlier Note (see above, p. 731). If then Henry of Huntingdon’s tale of Godwine’s Northern exploit be historical, it must belong to this year, and it seems quite to fall in with the brief hints of the Biographer. He places it in the year 1019; “Tertio anno regni sui ivit in Daciam, ducens exercitum Anglorum et Dacorum in Wandalos.” He then tells the story, and adds, “Quamobrem summo honore deinceps Anglos habuit nec minori quam Dacos.” William of Malmesbury, however (ii. 181), transfers the story to the Swedish war of 1025, waged against Ulf and Eglaf. Cnut wins a victory mainly through the valour of Godwine and the English; “Promptissimis in ea pugna Anglis, hortante Godwino comite ut, pristinæ gloriæ memores, robur suum oculis novi domini assererent.” No details are given; but the English by their valour win fame for themselves and an earldom for their captain; “Angli ... victoriam consummantes comitatum duci, sibi laudem pararunt.” Roger of Wendover (i. 466) also transfers the story to the Swedish war. He tells the tale much as it is told in Henry of Huntingdon, adding, that Godwine took Ulf and Eglaf prisoners. He says nothing about any special reward to Godwine, but of the English in general he says, “ob hanc caussam Cnuto deinceps Anglos summo honore venerans, cum læta victoria ad Angliam navigavit.” But this version is clearly wrong, for in the Swedish war of 1025 Cnut was defeated (see p. 454, and Note MMM); but William of Malmesbury’s statement, that Godwine, already an Earl, received an earldom as the reward of his conduct in this war, is evidently the true version of Godwine’s appointment to the West-Saxon earldom moved to a wrong year.

The Biographer, as we have seen, distinctly makes Godwine’s marriage as well as his promotion to be part of his reward for his exploits in 1019. He marries him to a sister of Cnut himself, but most of the other authorities make Godwine’s wife Gytha to be the sister of Ulf and daughter of Thorgils Sprakaleg—the same epithet as the Homeric πόδας ὠκύς. So Florence (1049), Adam of Bremen (ii. 52—“dedit ejus Wolf sororem copulatam altero duci Guduino”), and Snorro (Laing, ii. 252). The Knytlinga Saga also (c. 11; Johnstone, 133), as we have seen (see above, p. 725), marries Godwine to Ulf’s sister, but seemingly at an earlier time. The words of Saxo (196) are not very clear; “Benevolentiam enim quam Canutus perfidis Ulvonis meritis denegavit, consanguineæ sibi prolis respectui tribuendam putavit. Quinetiam sororem Anglorum satrapæ Godewino nuptiis junxit, gentem genti animis atque affinitate conserere cupiens.” I used to think that this meant that Cnut gave Godwine Ulf’s sister, but it now strikes me that it rather means Cnut’s own sister. The marriage or alleged marriage of Godwine with the sister of Cnut forms the subject of a legend which is found in more than one English writer. Its fullest form is to be found in Walter Map (207). In this version, as soon as Eadmund’s servant (see above, pp. 713, 741) had announced the murder of his master to Cnut and had received his fitting reward, Cnut and his Danes are guilty of all kinds of oppressions and outrages in England. Godwine, having failed to persuade Cnut to act otherwise, revolts against him (“quod Godwinus Chnuto cum multis afferens lacrimis, ad nullam exauditus est populi sui liberationem, et factus est pietate suorum impius et immitis regis Dacorum hostis, restititque regiæ potestati viriliter, et in plurimis eum ipsi dicunt prævaluisse congressibus, pacem semper Anglicis et libertatem exorans”). Cnut, unable to overcome Godwine, makes a feigned reconciliation with him (“facti sunt amici superficie tenus, et libertas Angliæ restituta”). Cnut still goes on laying various plots against Godwine, and at last tells him that he wishes to send him into Denmark to settle things there. As his credentials, the King will give him a letter to his sister, who will presently call together the chief men of Denmark to receive Godwine’s commands. When he is going to sail, his chaplain Brand (“consilio Brandi capellani sui, quem optimum sciebat in subtilibus artificem”)—can this be meant for the Brand who was chosen Abbot of Peterborough late in 1066? (see vol. iii. p. 529; v. p. 224)—counsels him to open the letter; he does so, and finds that it contains an order for the Danes to put him to death (“non enim sum ipso superstite rex unicus Anglorum et Daciæ”). One expression in the alleged letter is singular (“quod comes Godwinus ... extorsit a me tam dolose quam violenter Daciæ regimen per triennium”). Godwine of course substitutes a forged letter, in which he is invested with the regency of Denmark and is promised the King’s sister in marriage. The description which Godwine is made to give of himself is strange enough. He is “Eboracensium comes, dominusque Lincolniæ, Notingam, Leicestriæ, Cestriæ, Huntendunæ, Northamtunæ, Gloucestriæ, quique nobis diu restitit Herefordiæ.” That is to say, Godwine is described as Earl of exactly those parts of England of which he never was Earl; things are turned about in much the same way as they are turned about by the same writer in his account of the division of the kingdom between Cnut and Eadmund (see above, p. 706). Yet the imaginary warfare of Godwine after the death of Eadmund may well be a confused remembrance of real warfare before the death of Eadmund, and one would like to know something about the alleged resistance of Hereford to Cnut, a point on which Walter Map might certainly preserve a genuine tradition. The story here breaks off; but in the romantic Life of Harold (Chroniques Anglo-Normandes, 153, 154) the tale goes on to its natural end. The letter is opened, and another is put in its place, by which the Danes are ordered to receive Godwine as regent, and to give him the King’s sister in marriage. All this is accordingly done, and Cnut then puts the best face upon the matter; he receives Godwine as a brother and gives him the rank of “consul” or Earl. The same story is alluded to in the Chronicle of Ralph the Black (160), who in his account of Godwine (see above, p. 725) tells us how “in Daciam cum breve regis transmissus callide duxit sororem Cnutonis.” The same story is told by Saxo (194) of the way in which Ulf obtained his own wife Estrith. We can further compare the stories of Bellerophontês, Uriah—an analogy which does not fail to present itself to the mind of Harold’s biographer—the messenger of Pausanias in Thucydides (i. 132), and the letter given by King Philip of Swabia to Otto of Wittelsbach, Chronicon Slavorum, vii. 14.

In weighing these counter-statements, there is no doubt that, for anything personal to Godwine, the Biographer’s authority is the highest of any. But his authority will hardly bear up against so many opposite witnesses, especially against the distinct, though implied, statement of Florence (1049). Earl Swegen is there described as “Godwini comitis et Gythæ filius,” and directly afterwards we read of “Beorn comes, filius avunculi sui Danici comitis Ulfi ... ac frater Suani Danorum regis.” Florence himself indeed goes wrong when in a later passage (1067, and again in the Genealogia, vol. i. p. 275) he calls Gytha “soror Suani regis Danorum;” but this is a slip between Swegen Estrithson’s aunt and his sister, and in no way brings Gytha nearer to Cnut. If Gytha had really been Cnut’s sister, it is inconceivable that any one would have turned her, especially in the elaborate and formal way in which it is done by Florence and Adam, into a sister of Ulf. But a sister of the King’s brother-in-law might be much more easily mistaken for the King’s own sister; perhaps she might be laxly called so. But in any case I accept the statements as to the parentage of Godwine’s wife as alternative statements, and I do not admit that Godwine married twice. It seems to me that, when Ulf’s sister had been mistaken for Cnut’s sister, and when two statements had thus arisen about her, the next stage was to cut her into two separate women. Thus William of Malmesbury (ii. 200) marries Godwine, first to a sister of Cnut, who bears one nameless son, and then to a nameless woman, who was the mother of his historical children. This is clearly an attempt to reconcile the statement that Godwine married Cnut’s sister with the fact that Godwine’s children are never spoken of as in any way of kin to Cnut. William’s account of Godwine’s first wife is an excellent specimen of Norman calumny. She gets great wealth by selling English slaves, especially beautiful girls, into Denmark. Her son, while still a boy, is drowned in the Thames, being carried into the stream by a horse given him by his grandfather—Swegen, Wulfnoth, or whom?—and she herself is killed by lightning for her misdeeds. Mr. Thorpe (Diplomatarium, 312) seemingly accepts this tale, as he takes the marriage settlement of a certain Godwine (Cod. Dipl. iv. 10), containing the names of three other Godwines, all alike unknown, to be a record of the imaginary second marriage of the great Earl. Bromton (934) and Knighton (2333) tell William’s story with improvements, making, with a fine perception of dates and ages, Godwine’s first wife to be a daughter of Cnut by Ælfgifu of Northampton. See above, p. 734.

I have no doubt that Godwine had but one wife, Gytha, daughter of Thorgils, sister of Ulf, and aunt of Swegen Estrithson, and that all his sons and daughters were her children.

NOTE FFF. p. 430. WYRTGEORN KING OF THE WENDS.

I cannot pretend to any special knowledge of Slavonic history, and I must confess that I am quite unable to identify this King Wyrtgeorn. There was however a very eminent Slavonic prince at this time, who was closely connected with Cnut, and who spent some time with him in England. I do not know whether the two can anyhow be the same, or whether there has been any confusion between them.

The person I mean is Godescalc the son of Uto or Pribignew the Obotrite, a Wendish prince whose exploits will be found recorded in the Chronica Sclavica, ap. Lindenbrog, capp. 13, 14 (Hamburg, 1706), in Helmold’s Chronicon Slavorum, i. 19–25 (Frankfurt, 1581), in three notices of Saxo, pp. 196, 204, 208, and in a variety of passages of Adam of Bremen, ii. 64, 75; iii. 18, 21, 45, 50, 70. In his youth he was sent as a student to Lüneburg, but, hearing of his father’s death at the hands of the neighbouring Saxons, he gave over his studies, renounced his faith, put himself at the head of his heathen countrymen, and carried on a fierce war with the Saxons of Holstein and Stormaria. The freemen of Thetmarsen alone withstood him. He was then brought to a better mind by a rebuke received from a Christian, which has a somewhat legendary sound. He was soon afterwards taken prisoner by Bernhard the Second, Duke of the Saxons (1010–1062), who after a while released him, seemingly on condition that he should leave the country. He then joined himself to Cnut, entered his service, seemingly as an officer of the Housecarls, served in his wars, and, according to the national Chronicle, was rewarded with the hand of his daughter—no doubt a mistake for sister—whose name is given as Demmyn. He was in England at the time of Cnut’s death. According to the Chronicle he then returned to his own country (“revertens ad patriam post mortem Kanuti,” c. 13), but according to Adam of Bremen (ii. 75) it was not till early in the reign of Eadward (“post mortem Chnut regis et filiorum ejus rediens ab Anglia”). In this case it is not unlikely (see vol. ii. p. 65) that he was banished from England. According to Saxo (20) he served some time under Swegen Estrithson in his war with Magnus, and married his natural daughter Siritha (Sigrid?). The two Swegens are clearly confounded, and Godescalc is much more likely to have married a daughter of the elder Swegen. But his main object was to win back his own inheritance, which after some fighting he regained, and devoted himself to the spread of Christianity among his countrymen. He not only built and endowed churches, but became personally a missionary, translating into the vulgar tongue what the clergy preached in Latin or German. He waged some wars in concert with Duke Bernhard, and his power seems to have been sensibly lessened after that prince’s death. At last, in 1066, he suffered martyrdom at the hands of his heathen subjects, at the instigation of his brother-in-law Blusso. With him suffered John, Bishop of Mecklenburg, who was sacrificed to the Slavonic god Radegast, and others of his companions, both clergy and laity. Godescalc’s wife, the Danish princess, was sent away naked; several of his sons were killed, but one, Henry, took refuge with his cousin Swegen in Denmark, and afterwards avenged his father’s death. On the death of Godescalc, the whole Wendish country fell back into heathenism.

The account of these things in the honest Nether-Dutch of Botho’s Picture Chronicle of Brunswick (Leibnitz, iii. 327) is worth reading. “In dussem sulven jare [1065, but the year of William’s coming to England] vorhoff sick ein grot mort van den Wenden, Gotschalckus wart dot geslagen binnen Lentzin, Answerus wart mit sinen moneken geschent binnen Rosseborge, bischopp Johannes to Mekelenborch de wart mit speten to hauwen in alle stucke, unde worpen sinen licham upp de strate in de goten, unde offerden sin hovet örem affgode Ridegaste. Des konighes dochter to Dennemarcke Gotschalckes wiff, de jageden se ut Mekelenborch naket mit anderen Cristen fruwen, se fenghen unde slogen de Cristen alle, unde to bespottinge se de crütze to hauweden, unde vorstorden gruntliken Hamborch, Sleswick, Mekelenborch unde Oldenborch dat se ane Bischopp stonden LXXX.”

Godescalc is so interesting a character that we should certainly be well pleased to connect him with England as closely as we can. But I do not know how far we are justified in making him the same as the Wyrtgeorn of Florence. There is also a single charter of 1026 (Cod. Dipl. iv. 33) which is signed (along with the Earls Godwine, Hakon, Hrani, and Sihtric) by an Earl Wrytesleof, whose name certainly has a very Slavonic sound.

NOTE GGG. p. 431. THE DEATH OF ULF.

Ulf, as we have seen, plays hardly any part in English history; there seems no doubt that he was put to death by order of Cnut, but the Danish and Norwegian accounts of his death differ very widely. According to Snorro’s Saga of Saint Olaf (Laing, ii. 244), Ulf had joined with Emma in a conspiracy to set Harthacnut on the throne of Denmark, of which kingdom Ulf had been left in command, as well as in charge of the kingly bairn. Cnut comes over into Denmark, and Ulf, finding himself forsaken of all men, asks for grace. This is just at the time of the joint Swedish and Norwegian invasion which led to the battle of the Helga. Cnut bids Ulf come with his men and ships, and they will talk of grace afterwards. Ulf joins the King’s muster and takes a part in the battle. Soon after, on Saint Michael’s Eve (252), Ulf entertains Cnut at Roskild. The Earl was in a good humour, and the King in a bad one. They quarrel over a game of chess, on which Ulf rises to leave the room. Cnut says, “Run away, Ulf the Fearful.” Ulf turns round and reminds him that he did not call him Ulf the Fearful when he himself ran away at the Helga and Ulf saved him. The next morning, as he is dressing, Cnut bids his page go and kill Ulf. The lad comes back, saying that he has not killed him because he has gone to the church of Saint Lucius. Cnut then bids his chamberlain Ivar the White go and kill him in the church, which was accordingly done, after which Cnut gives great wealth to the church of Roskild.

Saxo has quite another story. Ulf first (194) obtains Estrith in marriage by the stratagem which I have already mentioned. He then makes divers plots, takes refuge in Sweden, exhorts Olaf and Omund to an invasion of Denmark, and fights on their side at the Helga (195). Presently, on the birth of her son Swegen, Estrith obtains her husband’s pardon from her brother (196). Then in a feast at Roskild, seemingly at Christmas (“annuo feriarum circuitu repetito”), Ulf, being half drunk, something like Kleitos in the history of Alexander, enlarges on his own exploits, especially his exploits at the Helga against Cnut. He is therefore at once put to death, quite justly, according to Saxo’s declared opinion, though his language is so laboured that one might fancy that he had some doubts about it. He comments thus (197);

“Igitur Ulvo inter ipsa mensæ sacra ab adstantibus interfici jussus, præcipitis linguæ justa supplicia pependit. Ita dum aliena facta parum sobrie meminit, sua cecinit, siccatosque cupide calices proprii sanguinis liquore complevit. Merito enim ex tam petulanti ingenio amaritudinem potius quam voluptatem percipere debuit, quod gloriæ sibi loco arrogasset, ductu suo præcipuis regis viribus ultimam incessisse jacturam.”

Cnut then gives his sister two provinces as a sort of wérgild for her husband. She presently gives them, or a tithe of them, to the church of Roskild; “Quas eadem postmodum sacrosanctæ Trinitatis ædi, præcipua apud Roskildiam veneratione cultæ, decimarum nomine partiendas curavit.” See p. 472.

These stories, different as they are, have manifestly some elements in common. I do not pretend to decide between them. On Ulf’s presence at the Helga, see Note MMM.

NOTE HHH. p. 434. THE PILGRIMAGE OF CNUT.

The disputed date of Cnut’s journey to Rome is discussed by Lappenberg (476, ii. 211 Thorpe). The Chronicles place it in 1031. So does Florence, who adds that he went from Denmark, and describes his alms and his redemption of the tolls by which pilgrims were troubled at various points of the road. He also mentions his vow of amendment before the tomb of the Apostles, and gives a copy of the letter, which he says was sent to England by Lyfing, then Abbot of Tavistock, afterwards the famous Bishop, who had gone with him on his journey. Cnut himself went from Rome to Denmark, and thence to England. In the heading of the letter, Cnut describes himself as “Rex totius Angliæ, et Denemarciæ, et Norreganorum, et partis Suanorum.” The account given by William of Malmesbury is essentially the same, with some abridgements and verbal differences. The description of Cnut as King of the Norwegians seems to point to a time later than his conquest of Norway in 1027. The Encomiast (ii. 20) enlarges with much rhetoric on Cnut’s piety, and says that he himself saw him on his journey in the church of Saint Bertin at Saint Omer’s, where he was much edified by the King’s prayers and almsdeeds. He gives no date, but he seems to imply (19) that it was after Cnut had gained a right to be called Emperor of five kingdoms (see Note NNN). But with so rhetorical a writer, this can hardly be taken as a distinct chronological statement, and it is certain that the complete submission of Scotland, which, as well as Norway, is reckoned among the five, did not happen till after Cnut’s return from Rome (see p. 450). Adam of Bremen (ii. 60–65) seems to put the pilgrimage in the time of Archbishop Libentius, that is, between 1029 and 1032; but I am not clear that its mention at this point is more than incidental, and, at all events, the chronology is confused, as Adam places the pilgrimage after the marriage of Henry and Gunhild, which did not take place till after Cnut’s death (see p. 455, and Note NNN). His description is very odd; “Tempore illo Conradus Imperator filiam Chnut regis Heinrico filio accepit in matrimonium. Cum quibus statim regio fastu Italiam ingressus est ad faciendam regno justitiam, comitem habens itineris Chnut regem, potentia trium regnorum barbaris gentibus valde terribilem.” Cnut himself, in the letter, mentions his dealings with the Pope, the Emperor, and King Rudolf of Burgundy, by which English and Danish travellers, whether pilgrims or merchants, were released from various tolls and exactions, and English Archbishops from the great sums that they had to pay for the pallium. This was at a great meeting at Easter (“quia magna congregatio nobilium in ipsa paschali solemnitate ibi cum domino papa Johanne et Imperatore Cuonrado erat”), at which the concessions made to Cnut were witnessed by four Archbishops, twenty Bishops, and a countless multitude of Dukes and nobles. This leads us to the account of Wipo (Vita Chuonradi, 16), from which it appears that this great gathering was for no less a purpose than the Emperor’s coronation, at which he distinctly says that Cnut and Rudolf were present. He describes the Emperor’s election and coronation, and adds, “His ita peractis in duorum regum præsentia, Ruodolfi regis Burgundiæ et Chnutonis regis Anglorum, divino officio finito, Imperator duorum regum medius ad cubiculum suum honorifice ductus est.” But there is no doubt that the coronation of Conrad happened at the Easter not of 1031, but of 1027.

The Tours Chronicle, in Bouquet, x. 284, places the journey “anno Conradi II. et Roberti Regis XXX.” The thirtieth year of Robert, counting from his father’s death in 996, would be 1026 or 1027. The second year of Conrad means, oddly enough, neither the second year of his German reign, which would be 1025 (see Wipo, c. 2), nor that of his Imperial reign, which would be 1028, but the second year of his Italian reign, which would be 1027, as he was crowned at Milan in 1026. See Arnulf, Hist. Med. ii. 2, ap. Muratori, iv. 14; Sigonius de Regno Italiæ, 354; and cf. Wipo, capp. 11, 12. But the Aquitanian William Godell, who gives the account in nearly the same words as the Tours Chronicle, places it “anno Domini MXXX. et regni sui [Cnutonis] anno XV.” They go on to say, “Fortissimus rex Cnuto Romam perrexit, in eoque itinere tanta munificentia usus est, quanta nullus unquam regum usus fuisse reminiscitur. Ecclesiis enim, pauperibus et infirmantibus et carceratis multa largitus est. Vectigalia insuper sive pedagia itinerum, in ipso itinere aurum et argentum largiendo, vel ex parte minuit, vel ex toto redemit; ut merito transeuntes deinceps per viam illam in æternum dicant: Benedictio Domini super regem Anglorum Cnutonem, benediximus tibi in nomine Domini.”

It seems impossible to withstand this evidence for the year 1027, a year which the Chronicles leave quite blank, and in which Florence mentions only Cnut’s intrigues in Norway, which is quite consistent with a journey from Denmark to Rome. We must therefore accept the date of 1027, and suppose with Lappenberg that the Chroniclers were misled by mistaking a date of MXXVI. for MXXXI., and that the titles in Florence and William of Malmesbury are simply a careless insertion of Florence himself or of some one from whom he copied the letter.

It is worth noticing that though the kingdom of Burgundy was now in its last days, Cnut speaks of Rudolf as a prince of importance through his command of the passes of the Alps; “Rodulphus rex, qui maxime ipsarum clausurarum dominatur.”

NOTE III. p. 434. THE LAWS OF CNUT.

Cnut’s code will be found in Thorpe’s Laws and Institutes (i. 358) and in Schmid’s Gesetze der Angelsachsen (250). The exact date is uncertain. The heading itself tells us only that the laws were enacted by the authority of the Witan (“mid his witena geþeahte,” “venerando ejus sapientum consilio”) in a midwinter Gemót at Winchester. Kemble (ii. 259) refers them to some Gemót between 1016 and 1020. Lappenberg (467, ii. 202 Thorpe) argues, from the fact that Cnut in the heading calls himself King of the Norwegians, and also from the mention of Peter’s pence (c. 9. about “Romfeoh.” Cf. in the letter “denarii quos Romæ ad sanctum Petrum debemus”), that they must be later than the pilgrimage to Rome and the conquest of Norway, that is later than 1028. Schmid in his Preface (lv.), on the ground that Cnut never uses his Danish or Norwegian titles in his English charters, looks on them as an interpolation here. The Norwegian title is absent in one manuscript, and Schmid also quotes a text which contains the words, “And þæt was gewordon sóna swá Cnut cyngc, mid his witena geþeaht, frið and freóndscipe betweox Denum and Englum fullice gefæstnode and heora ǽrran saca getwǽmde.” He therefore holds that the midwinter Gemót spoken of in the heading was one which immediately followed the Oxford Gemót of 1018 (see p. 419). I follow Lappenberg in placing the laws late in Cnut’s reign, because they seem to me to breathe the spirit of that part of his life, the same spirit which we find expressed in the Roman letter. It strikes me that the scribe quoted by Schmid confounded these laws with the renewal of Eadgar’s Law, from which they are evidently distinct.

The hunting code to which I have referred in p. 436 seems to me to carry its own confutation with it. What can be made of such a division of society as we find there? (Thorpe, i. 426; Schmid, 318). First we hear (c. 2) of “mediocres homines, quos Angli ‘les þegenes’ (or ‘læs-þegnas,’ see Schmid’s note) nuncupant, Dani vero ‘yoongmen vocant;’” then (c. 3) of “liberales quos Dani (sic) ‘ealdermen’ appellant;” then (c. 4) of “minuti homines quos ‘tineman’ Angli dicunt;” lastly (c. 12) of “liberalis homo, i. e. þegen.” Schmid (lvi.) seems by no means clear of its genuineness. Kemble however (ii. 80) seems to have no doubt, and he conjectures that the clause (c. 30) in which the right of every freeman to hunt on his own ground is asserted as strongly as it is in the undoubted laws was forced upon Cnut by the Witan. This is going rather far in the way of conjecture.

After reading Cnut’s laws, and comparing them with the testimonies already quoted from Florence and William of Malmesbury (see p. 437, cf. 441), the following declamation of John of Wallingford (Gale, 549) seems strange indeed; “Successitque ei [Eadmundo] ex prædictæ concordiæ conditione Cnuto Danus et hostis potius Anglorum quam regnator, immutavitque statim statuta et leges scriptas patriæ, et consuetudines, et populum, qui sub omni honore et libertate tempore suorum regum exstiterat, sub gravi jugo coëgit, nihilque de Ælfredi boni regis et justi, qui ab undique bonas consuetudines collegerat et scripserat, audire noluit statutis. Sed et omnia quæ vel ipse vel successores legitime sanxerant, ad suam studuit reducere voluntatem. Sicque factum, ut prædia et possessiones et antiqua præclarorum virorum tenementa suæ adscriberet ditioni. Porro quot et quanta sub pallio ejus protectionis facta fuerint injusta, non est scriptura quæ possit explicare.”

NOTE KKK. p. 444. THE HOUSECARLS.

There is no distinct mention in the Chronicles of the institution of the Thingmen or Housecarls, nor does their name occur in any of the English Laws, but the incidental mention of them by the name of Housecarls, or by the equivalent name of Hiredmen (familiares, members of the hired, court or family), is common in the Chronicles, while grants to housecarls and signatures of housecarls are common in the Charters, and they are mentioned several times in Domesday. The subject is discussed by Lappenberg (467, i. 202 Thorpe), and by Kemble (ii. 118, 124), to whom I owe the remark that the institution was only a revival of the comitatus. The “Leges Castrenses” or “Witherlags Ret” are described at length by Saxo (p. 197), and they are drawn out in a tabular form in a separate work by Swegen Aggesson (ap. Langebek, iii. 141). A Danish text follows at p. 159. This however dates only from the reign of Cnut the Sixth, who reigned from 1185 to 1202. In the Chronicle of King Eric (Langebek, i. 159) they are, by a somewhat grotesque mistake, attributed, with several other actions of the great Cnut, to his son Harthacnut. It is not easy to make out from the confused narrative of Saxo when he conceived the force to have been established. According to Swegen (146), the laws were enacted in England after the settlement of the country (“quum in Anglia, omni exercitu suo collecto, Kanutus rex defessa bellicis operibus membra quietis tranquillitate recrearet”) by the advice of Opo, a Dane from Zealand, who is also mentioned by Saxo (197), and his son Eskill. I think that there is little doubt that the date which I have suggested in the text must be the right one. Lappenberg also places the enactment of the “Witherlags Ret” early in Cnut’s reign.

The force was made up of men of all nations. So says Swegen (145); “Tanti regis exercitus, utpote ex variis collectus nationibus, universis videlicet regnis ditioni suæ subjugatis.” It is clear then that, among Cnut’s other subjects, Englishmen might find their way into the force. So Saxo, 197; “Quos quum rex natione, linguis, ingeniis, quam maxime dissidentes animadverteret.” Saxo (196) fixes the number at six thousand; he calls them “clientelam suam sex millium numerum explentem.” (“Clientela,” as used by Saxo, is a technical word, and quite recalls the old comitatus.) But Swegen (144) reckons them only at three thousand; “Cujus summa, tria millia militum selectorum explevit. Quam catervam suo idiomate thinglith nuncupari placuit.” I know of no statement as to their numbers in later times, but the force was one which was likely to grow. The “stippendiarii et mercenarii” formed the core of the English army at Senlac, and we find Earls keeping housecarls as well as Kings.

That Cnut did lay down strict laws for the government of the force there is no reason to doubt; but I confess that in the Leges Castrenses, as we have them, there is much that has a mythical sound. Traitors for instance (Saxo, 199; Swegen, iii. 162) were expelled and declared to be “Nithing.” They had the choice of departing by land or by sea. He who chose the sea was put alone into a boat, with oars, food, &c.; but if any chance brought him to shore, he was put to death. This sounds to me very much of a piece with various mythical and romantic tales about people being exposed in boats, of which that of the Ætheling Eadwine in the reign of Æthelstan is the most famous (see above, p. 689). Then again, though no doubt, in Cnut’s army as in other armies, purely military offences would be judged by purely military tribunals, I confess to stumbling at one passage in the Witherlags Ret (Swegen, iii. 149), which sets before us the military assembly as judging among its own members even in causes of real property; “Constitutione etiam generali cautum est, ut omnis inter commilitones orta controversia de fundis prædiis, et agris, vel etiam de mansionis deprædatione ... in jam dicto colloquio agitaretur. Tum vero is, cui commilitonum judicium jus venditionis adjudicabit, cum sex sortitis in suo cœtu, ... territorii sui continuatam possessionem sibi vendicare debet, præscriptionemque lege assignata tuebitur.” If Cnut’s courts martial really exercised this kind of jurisdiction, it was a clear violation of the constitutional rights of Ealdormen, Bishops, earls, churls, everybody; still it need not have interfered with the personal rights of any but members of the guild. I confess however that I should like some better evidence of the fact. It is also rather too great a demand on our faith when we are told that these laws never were broken (save in one famous case) till the reign of Nicolas of Denmark (1101–1130), and when the authority cited for the statement is Bo or Boethius the Wend, an old soldier of Cnut who shared the longevity of the legendary Harold and Gyrth, and was alive in the time of Nicolas (Swegen, iii. 154, 163). The one offender in earlier times was Cnut himself, who in a fit of passion killed one of his comrades. The assembly was perplexed as to the way of dealing with such a culprit, and the King settled the matter by adjudging himself to a ninefold wérgild. Saxo, pp. 199, 200. So Swegen, somewhat differently, iii. 151.

There are strict regulations (see Swegen, iii. 147) about the horses of the Thingmen; but these were of course only horses on which they rode to battle (see p. 271), not horses to be used in actual fight.

As for the behaviour of the housecarls to the mass of the people and the feeling with which they were looked at by the mass of the people, we can say very little in the absence of any direct evidence. They were a standing army in days when a standing army was a new thing, and a standing army, as long as it is a new thing, is never a popular institution. And the housecarls at first were not only a standing army, but a standing army largely made up of foreigners and conquerors. Still everything both in the reign of Cnut and in the reign of Eadward would tend to make the force grow more and more national and popular. The time when it was likely to be abused, as we know that it was abused, was in the days of Cnut’s sons. Still, even under Harold the son of Godwine, we can perhaps discern a certain tinge of ill-will in the words “stippendiarii” and “mercenarii,” which seem to breathe the same spirit as the manifest dislike to Danegelds and heregelds, perhaps one might say to taxes of every kind. But I see no sign of any strong ill-will between the housecarls and the people at any time. I can find no evidence for the highly-coloured picture given by Mr. St. John (ii. 99) of their insolence in Cnut’s days, though it is likely enough that such things sometimes happened. But the reference which he gives to the Ramsey History (c. lxxxv. p. 441) is only a legend about Bishop Æthelric making a Danish thegn—married, by the way, to an Englishwoman—drunk, and so getting a grant of lands out of him. As for Bromton’s tales about Englishmen having to stand on bridges while the Danes passed, having to bow to the Danes, and the like (X Scriptt. 934), they prove very little indeed. They are parts of an historical confusion which I shall presently have to mention, and they seem to be placed in the time of Cnut’s sons rather than in that of Cnut himself.

One point more remains with regard to the relations of the housecarls to the people at large. Though there is no mention of the force in the genuine English laws, yet in the so-called Laws of Eadward the Confessor (Thorpe, i. 449) and in Bracton (iii. 15. 2, 3) the legal process of “Murdrum,” and in Bracton the Presentment of Englishry also, is traced up to the institutions of Cnut. When Cnut, we are told, sent away the mass of his Danish troops, at the request of the Witan (“rogatu baronum Anglorum,” “precatu baronum de terra”), the Witan pledged themselves that the rest should be safe in life and limb (“firmam pacem haberent”), and that any Englishman who killed any of them should suffer punishment. If the murderer could not be discovered, the township or hundred was fined. Out of this, we are told by Bracton, grew the doctrine, continued under the Norman Kings, that an unknown corpse was presumed to be that of a Frenchman—in Cnut’s time, doubtless, that of a Dane—and that the “Englishry” of a slain person had to be proved. The “Laws of Eadward” of course contain no notice of “Englishry” as opposed to Frenchry—if I may coin such a word; but neither do they mention it as opposed to Danishry. They simply record the promise of the Witan—not an unreasonable one—that Cnut’s soldiers should be under the protection of the law. This is likely enough; anything more is the mere carrying back of Norman institutions into earlier times. In the Dialogus de Scaccario (i. 10) there is no hint of the “Murdrum” and “Englishry” being older than the Norman Conquest. See vol. v. pp. 443, 444.

We shall as we go on come across many passages in which the housecarls both of the King and of the great Earls are spoken of. Among the charters of Eadward are several (Cod. Dipl. iv. 201, 204, 221, cf. 200) containing grants to the King’s housecarls. The three grantees spoken of are called Thurstan, Urk, and Wulfnoth—the last at all events being an Englishman, perhaps a kinsman of Godwine. The two latter writs are addressed to Earl Harold. In the oldest (201), a Middlesex writ, addressed to Bishop Robert, Osgod Clapa, and Ulf the Sheriff, Thurstan is described in the English copy as “Ðurstan min huskarll,” in the Latin as “præfectus meus palatinus Ðurstanus.” As Mr. Kemble says (ii. 123), such a description could not apply to every man in so large a body; so we may infer that Thurstan stood high in the service. There is also the will of Wulfwig, Bishop of Dorchester (Cod. Dipl. iv. 290), which is witnessed by a crowd of people, great and small, from the King and the Lady downwards, including some signatures of large bodies of men; “On eallra ðæs kynges húscarlan and on his mæsse-préostan ... and on eallra ðára burhwara gewitnesse on Lincolne and on eallra ðæra manna ðe seceað gearmorkett tó Stowe.” This immediately follows on the signatures of the Stallers Ansgar, Ralph, and Lyfing, from which Mr. Kemble (ii. 122) infers that the Stallers were the special commanders of the force. Housecarls are also mentioned several times in Domesday (see Ellis, i. 91; ii. 151; Kelham, 238), and in Simeon of Durham (Gest. Regg. 1071; see vol. iv. pp. 304, 513) we find a housecarl not only reckoned among the “principales viri” of Northumberland, but high in personal favour with William; “Eilaf huscarl apud regem præpollens honore.”

NOTE LLL. p. 448. CNUT’S RELATIONS WITH SCOTLAND.

I. The authorities for the Battle of Carham are the Melrose Chronicle (in anno), and two entries of Simeon of Durham, one in his general History (Gest. Regg. in anno), the other in his History of the Church of Durham (iii. 5; ap. X Scriptt. 30). The Melrose writer (p. 155) simply says, “Ingens bellum inter Anglos et Scottos apud Carham geritur.” This entry seems an abridgement of that in Simeon’s Annals; “Ingens bellum apud Carrum gestum est inter Scottos et Anglos, inter Huctredum filium Waldef comitem Northymbrorum, et Malcolmum filium Cyneth regem Scottorum, cum quo fuit in bello Eugenius Calvus rex Lutinensium.” From neither of these accounts should we learn which side was victorious. But in the Durham History Simeon becomes explicit, if not exaggerated; “Universus a flumine Tesa usque Twedam populus, dum contra infinitam Scottorum multitudinem apud Carrum dimicaret, pene totus cum natu majoribus suis interiit.” In the Durham Annals (Pertz, xviii. 507) there is a further notice; “Fuit apud Carrum illud famosum bellum inter Northanhymbros et Scottos, ubi pene totus sancti Cuthberti populos interiit, inter quos etiam xviii sacerdotes, qui inconsulte se intermiscuerant bello; quo audito præscriptus episcopus dolorem et vitam morte finivit.” It is not clear whether this is the event referred to by Fordun (iv. 40), where he tells us that Duncan was sent by Malcolm to meet the Danes and Northumbrians (“qui tunc velut una gens coierant”), who were on their march to ravage Cumberland. He met them and defeated them with great slaughter. Fordun seems to place this before the death of Æthelred; in so confused a writer the chronological difficulty is of no great consequence; it is of more importance that a Northumbrian army, marching to invade any part of Cumberland, would hardly pass by Carham.

There are several points to be noticed here. First, the event of 1018, like the event of 1066, was ushered in by a comet which, though it is not mentioned by our national Chroniclers, seems to have deeply affected local imaginations. “Northanimbrorum populis,” says Simeon in his local work, “per xxx. noctes cometa apparuit, quæ terribili præsagio futuram provinciæ cladem præmonstravit. Siquidem paullo post, id est post triginta dies,” &c. Then follows the account of the battle.

Secondly, Simeon, accurate as he commonly is, has gone wrong—who could feel certain of not going wrong?—among the Earls of his own land. His Uhtred ought (see above, p. 587) to be Eadwulf. It was he, “ignavus valde et timidus,” who now, according to one view (see above, p. 585), ceded Lothian to the victorious Malcolm.

Thirdly, for “Lutinensium” in Simeon we should, according to Mr. Robertson (i. 99), read “Clutinensium.”

Fourthly, the extent of the district from which the English army came should be noticed. It came from the land between Tees and Tweed, that is from old Bernicia, without Lothian. This suggests the question why Lothian, if it was not ceded for the first time till after the battle, did not take a part in the war as well as the rest of the earldom.

Fifthly, the “natu majores” of Simeon are doubtless the “yldestan” of our English Chronicles. See p. 591, and below, p. 777. On this slaughter of the nobility, compare the same result at Assandun, p. 392.

II. With regard to Cnut’s later relations with Scotland, our own Chronicles contain no entries on Scottish affairs earlier than the great submission of 1031. So far as the sagas can be relied upon, they certainly represent Cnut as exercising lordship in Scotland at an earlier time. In Snorro’s Saga of Olaf Haraldsson (Laing, ii. 195) we read how Cnut “reigned over Denmark and England and had conquered for himself a great part of Scotland.” And again we read (Laing, ii. 196; Johnstone, 148), both in prose and verse, how two Kings came to Cnut from Scotland out of Fife, and how he received them to favour, restored their lands, and gave them fresh gifts (“til hans komo tveir konungar nordan af Skotlandi, af Fifi, oc gaf hann þeim upp reídi sína, oc lönd þau öll, er þeir höfdo ádr átt, oc þar med stórar vingiafir”). This is placed while Cnut is still only intriguing, and not yet fighting, against Olaf, that is, at some time before the battle of the Helga in 1025. This story may be merely a transfer to a wrong date of the submission of 1031, or it may be a record of some earlier submission. If the sagas are extremely confused in their chronology, our Chronicles are during this reign extremely meagre in their entries. The Knytlinga Saga also (c. 17; Johnstone, 144) not only makes Cnut subdue a large part of Scotland, but sets his son Harold over it as Under-king, as Swegen was in Norway and Harthacnut in Denmark (see below, p. 775). This seems to be put before the Roman pilgrimage, but the chronology is very confused. The Roman pilgrimage seems to be put after the conquest of Norway. And of a reign of Harold in Scotland nothing, as far as I know, is mentioned elsewhere.

There is also the account in Fordun (iv. 41) of Cnut’s relations with Cumberland, to which I have referred in the text (see p. 449). This story may be true in itself; but the prominence which is given to it certainly looks like an attempt to evade the fact of the submission of Scotland itself. Fordun places the Cumbrian expedition after the Roman pilgrimage, and that he places (iv. 40) in the eighth year of Conrad, meaning seemingly 1032. The refusal of Duncan to do homage is thus described; “Non enim hactenus Anglorum regi Cnutoni, quia regnum invaserat, pro Cumbria Duncanus, quamquam iterum et iterum ab eo submonitus, homagium fecerat, quia non inde sibi de jure, sed regibus Angligenis fidem deberi rex rescripsit.” Cnut then marches against him; that it was with the intention of incorporating Cumberland with the English kingdom, of dealing with the dominions of the recusant as being, in feudal language, a forfeited fief, I infer from the words “Cumbriam suo subdendam dominio pedetentim advenit.” The terms on which peace was finally made are thus described; “Ut regis [Scottorum sc.] nepos Duncanus Cumbriæ dominio libere, sicut predecessorum aliquis liberius tenuit, de cetero gaudeat in futurum, dum tamen ipse futurorumque regum hæredes qui pro tempore fuerint regi Cnutoni ceterisque suis successoribus Anglorum regibus fidem consuetam faciant.” There is nothing unlikely in all this, except perhaps in the extreme loyalty towards the house of Cerdic which is attributed to the Cumbrian Under-king; but we must always remember the strong tendency of Scottish writers to make too much rather than too little of the vassalage of Cumberland to England.

III. We now come to the undoubted submission of Scotland to Cnut in 1031, as recorded in our own Chronicles. I do not understand Mr. Burton (i. 368), when, after quoting Mr. Thorpe’s translation (ii. 128), which is certainly made up confusedly from the Worcester and Peterborough Chronicles, he says that “in only one of the four accepted versions of the original is there anything resembling this.” The Abingdon Chronicle is certainly silent, but Worcester and Peterborough both record the submission, though in different words, and Canterbury follows Peterborough. The Worcester entry runs thus; “Þa fór he [Cnut] to Scotlande, and Scotta cyng eode him on hand and wearð his mann; ac he þæt lytle hwile heold.” Peterborough says, “he [Cnut] for to Scotlande, and Scotta cyng him to beah Mælcolm, and twegen oðre cyningas, Mælbæþe and Iehmarc.” Mr. Robertson (i. 97, ii. 400) seems unable to identify Jehmarc. Mr. Skene (Celtic Scotland, i. 397) makes him the same as Imergi, from whom Somerled, who was killed in 1166, was fourth in descent, and places him in Airergaidhel or Argyll, the old Scottish land of Dalriada. His companion, “Mælbæþa,” “Mealbæaðe,” must be the same as the “Macbeoðe” of the Worcester Chronicle in 1054, that is the Machabæus of Fordun, the Macbeth of Shakespere. The words of the Worcester Chronicler, “ac he þæt lytle hwile heold,” may refer to Malcolm’s death soon after in 1033. Scotland soon fell into confusion, and before long England also.

The submission recorded by our two Chroniclers is not to be doubted; but I confess that I am not quite clear about the date. Both Chroniclers pointedly connect the Scottish expedition with Cnut’s return from Rome (“sona swa he ham com þa fór he to Scotlande,” Wig. “Þy ilcan geare he for to Scotlande,” Petrib.); so it is possible that the true date may be 1027 or 1028 instead of 1031.

Lastly, there is the curious account of Rudulf Glaber (ii. 2) which I have referred to in the text (see p. 450), and which comes in a passage which I shall have to refer to again. In the year 996 a whale as big as an island came out of the North towards Gaul and portended the troubles which were to come upon Gaul and Britain. In Britain especially there was frightful confusion; various Kings were striving and wasting the land, till in the end one got the better of them all; “Viso ... Oceani portento exorsus est bellicus tumultus in universali occidentali orbis plaga, videlicet tam in regionibus Galliarum quam in transmarinis Oceani insulis, Anglorum videlicet atque Brittonum necnon et Scotorum. Siquidem, ut plerumque solet contingere, propter delicta infimi populi, versi in dissensionem illorum reges ac cæteri principes, statimque exardescentes in subjectæ plebis depopulationem scilicet usque dum perducuntur ad suimet sanguinis effusionem. Quod videlicet tamdiu patratum est in prædictis insulis, quousque unus regum earumdem vi solus potiretur regiminis ceterarum.” This lucky King of course is Cnut, who is conceived to be King of the West-Saxons. He seizes the kingdom of Æthelred, who is conceived, it would seem, to be King of one of the British islands called Denmark. “Denique mortuo rege Adalrado, in regno scilicet illorum qui Danimarches cognominantur, qui etiam duxerat uxorem sororem Ricardi Rotomagorum ducis, invasit regnum illius rex videlicet Canuc Occidentalium Anglorum, qui etiam post crebra bellorum molimina ac patriæ depopulationes, pactum cum Ricardo stabiliens ejusque germanam, Adalradi videlicet uxorem, in matrimonium ducens, utriusque regni tenuit monarchiam.” It might be refining too much to hint that this wonderful turning about of the dominions of Cnut and Æthelred had anything to do with the strangely reversed state of geographical parties in 1015–1016 (see p. 377). Then follows the account of the Scottish expedition, as follows;

“Post hæc quoque idem Canuc cum plurimo exercitu egressus, ut subjugaret sibi gentem Scotorum, quorum videlicet rex Melculo vocabatur, viribus et armis validus et, quod potissimum erat, fide atque opere Christianissimus. Ut autem cognovit quoniam Canuc audacter illius quæreret invadere regnum, congregans omnem sui gentis exercitum, potenter ei ne valeret restitit. Ac diu multumque talibus procaciter Canuc inserviens jurgiis, ad postremum tantum prædicti Ricardi Rotomagorum ducis ejusque sororis persuasionibus, pro Dei amore, omni prorsus deposita feritate, mitis effectus, in pace deguit. Insuper etiam et Scotorum regem amicitiæ gratia diligens, illiusque filium de sacro baptismatis fonte excepit.” One does not quite see why either Emma or Duke Richard or Rudolf Glaber should be seized with such a sudden fit of interest in the affairs of Scotland. Still Rudolf’s account is less wonderful than that of a contemporary German writer, Ekkehard the historian of Saint Gallen, who boldly carries Cnut back into the tenth century, and sends Otto the Great over into England to fight against him (Pertz, ii. 119); “Ottone apud Anglos cum Adaltage, rege ipsorum, socero suo, aliquamdiu agente, ut junctis viribus Chnutonem Danorum debellaret regem.” Yet Ekkehard was born in 980 and died in 1036.

NOTE MMM. p. 454. THE BATTLE AT THE HELGA.

This battle is not mentioned in the Abingdon and Worcester Chronicles. Peterborough, followed by Canterbury, places it in 1025. No enemies but Swedes are spoken of, and their commanders are called Ulf and Eglaf. “Þær comon ongean Ulf and Eglaf and swiðe mycel here, ægðer ge landhere ge sciphere of Swaðeode.” Many of Cnut’s men, both Danish and English, are killed, “and þa Sweon hæfdon weallstowe geweald.” As for the place of the battle, Cnut is said to go “to Denmearcon mid scipon to þam Holme æt ea þære halgan.” See Earle, Parallel Chronicles, p. 342; only I do not understand how the “Helge-Aa” could be “then the boundary between Sweden and the Danish possessions,” as the old frontier of Sweden and Scania lies some way to the north of that river.

Ulf and Eglaf are doubtless the sons of Rognvald and Ingebiorg, of whom Snorro speaks in the Saga of Saint Olaf, c. 95 (Laing, ii. 119). At any rate the Ulf spoken of cannot be Ulf the son of Thorgils and brother of Gytha (see above, Note FFF), nor can Eglaf be the Eglaf whom we have already heard of (see p. 447). But both Snorro in c. 159 (Laing, ii. 246) and Saxo (194, 195) agree in making no mention of the sons of Rognvald, and in making Cnut fight the battle against the two Kings Olaf of Norway and Omund of Sweden. They also agree in bringing in Ulf the son of Thorgils; only they bring him in in quite different characters. Saxo makes him a traitor who has invited the combined Swedish and Norwegian invasion, while Snorro makes him redeem former misdeeds by saving Cnut when in great danger. In the Annales Islandorum (Langebek, iii. 40) the date is given as 1027 and the death of Ulf Thorgilsson is placed in the same year.

We can hardly be wrong in accepting the presence of Omund and Olaf on the combined witness of all the Scandinavian writers. But the two Ulfs and Eglaf are puzzling. It has sometimes struck me that “Ulf and Eglaf” in our Chroniclers may be a mistake for “Ulf and Olaf,” taking of course Saxo’s view of the conduct of Ulf Thorgilsson. The Peterborough writer might very easily get wrong in his Ulfs, but he was hardly likely to mistake Saint Olaf, whose history he knew very well, for a man of such small renown as Eglaf Rognvaldsson.

It must not be forgotten that it is to this battle that William of Malmesbury and other writers have, with an utter misconception of the result of the battle, transferred Godwine’s exploit of 1019. See above, p. 743. Henry of Huntingdon translates the Peterborough Chronicle. Florence, following Abingdon and Worcester, is silent.

NOTE NNN. p. 455. CNUT’S RELATIONS WITH THE EMPIRE.

Cnut, according to Saxo (196), was lord of six kingdoms; “sex præpollentium regnorum possessor effectus.” But he does not give their names. His commentator Stephanius (p. 212) says, “nempe Daniæ, Sveciæ, Norvegiæ, Angliæ, Sclaviæ, Sembiæ” [Semba or Samland in Eastern Prussia?]. The Encomiast (ii. 19) says, “Quum rex Cnuto solum imprimis Danorum obtineret regimen, quinque regnorum, scilicet Danomarchiæ, Angliæ, Britanniæ, Scotiæ, Nordwegæ, vendicato dominio, Imperator exstitit.” Swegen Aggesson (c. 5; Lang. i. 54) outdoes them all. Cnut’s empire extends over the adjoining realms (“circumjacentia regna suo aggregavit Imperio”) from Thule to the Byzantine frontier (“ab ultima Thyle usque ad Græcorum ferme Imperium”), taking in, seemingly, not five or six, but ten kingdoms; “quippe Hyberniam, Angliam, Galliam, Italiam, Longobardiam, Teotoniam, Norwagiam, Sclaviam, cum Sambia sibi subjugavit.” Swegen clearly believes in three Empires, Greek, German, and Scandinavian. His exaggerations may be compared with the exaggerations of Dudo and Rudolf Glaber with regard to the Norman Dukes. On the other hand, Prior Godfrey (Satirical Poets, ii. 148) allows Cnut only three kingdoms, the three most obvious,

“Sic insigne caput trino diademate cingit, Dum Danos, Anglos, Northigenasque regit.”

The Danish writers thus paint Cnut as at least the equal of Conrad; but I am not quite sure that Wipo, in a passage already quoted (see p. 752), where he describes Conrad at his Imperial coronation as walking between the two Kings Cnut and Rudolf, has not a lurking wish to imply that Cnut stood in much the same relation to Conrad that Rudolf did. And the circumstances of the visit, the sight of Pope and Cæsar in all their glory in the old home of both, would be very likely to impress the mind of the still newly-converted lord of Northern Europe, and to make him feel somewhat less Imperial than he felt either at Winchester or at Roskild. But even in Wipo’s account there is nothing to make us think that Cnut did more than yield to Conrad the formal precedence to which he was certainly entitled, and above all at such a moment.

As to the marriage of Gunhild to King Henry there is no kind of doubt; but the plain fact has been clouded over with many fables. That the betrothal took place during the reign of Cnut I infer from the account of Adam of Bremen (ii. 54), who after talking largely of Cnut, Archbishop Unwan of Hamburg, and the Emperor Conrad, goes on to say; “Cum rege Danorum sive Anglorum, mediante archiepiscopo [Unwan], fecit pacem. Cujus etiam filiam Imperator filio suo deposcens uxorem, dedit ei civitatem Sliaswig cum marcha quæ trans Egdoram est, in fœdus amicitiæ; et ex eo tempore fuit regum Daniæ.” But there is no doubt that the marriage was not celebrated till 1036, when Cnut was dead. See Wipo, c. 35, who calls the bride Cunehildis, and the Hildesheim Annals in anno (Pertz, iii. 100), where we read that “regina Cunihild nomine ... in natali Apostolorum regalem coronam accepit et mutato nomine in benedictione Cunigund dicta est.” See also Hepidanni Annales in anno (ap. Duchesne, Rer. Franc. Scriptt. iii. 479). William of Malmesbury (ii. 188) is so far accurate as to place the marriage after Cnut’s death, but he tells the story with great confusion. He grows specially eloquent on the splendour of the bride’s progress, just as Roger of Wendover (iv. 332 et seqq.) does over the marriage of Isabella, daughter of John, with Frederick the Second; but William makes Harthacnut send his sister from England, though Harthacnut certainly was not there in 1036, and he seems to place the marriage after the trial and acquittal of Godwine in 1041. It was probably this confusion which led him to speak of Henry as “Imperator Alemannorum,” for though Henry did not become Emperor till 1046, yet his father died in 1039, leaving to Henry, as Wipo (c. 39) says, “regni rem, Imperii autem spem, bene locatam.” Wace also (Roman de Rou, 6552) tells us;

“Gunnil fu à Rome menée, Et à Rome fu mariée; Fame fu à l’Emperéor; Ne pout aveir plus halt seignor.”

Besides that Henry was not yet Emperor, the marriage was (see the Hildesheim Annals, u. s.) not celebrated at Rome but at Nimwegen. Gunhild died July 18th, 1038, “quasi in limine vitæ,” as Wipo (c. 37) says, before the death of Conrad. There is another inaccurate account of the marriage in Heming’s Worcester Cartulary, 267 (Monasticon, i. 596), where the bridegroom is described as “Imperator Cono” and Brihtheah, Bishop of Worcester, appears as one of the bride’s suite; “Idem vero episcopus Brihtegus quodam in tempore ad Saxoniam Gunnildæ, Cnuti regis filiæ, ductor exstitit, quum eam Imperator Cono uxorem duceret, et quemdam ministrum sibi valde carum, Hearlewinum nomine, socium itineris secus habuit.” But the mistakes of all these writers seem pardonable when we turn to the wonderful romance which some of the Scandinavian writers have devised by rolling together the Roman pilgrimage of Cnut, the marriage of Gunhild, and seemingly also the Italian expedition of Conrad and Henry, which happened (see Wipo, c. 35) soon after Henry’s marriage. Saxo (196) is comparatively brief. After the description of Cnut as lord of six kingdoms, he tells us how he married Gunhild to Henry and then went and restored the authority of his son-in-law over certain rebels in Italy. “Canutus ... eximio sui fulgore etiam Romanum illustravit Imperium. Enimvero ejus principi Henrico filiam Gunnildam nuptum tradidit, eumdemque paullo post Italica consternatione perculsum auxilio prosequutus, pristinæ fortunæ, pressa rebellium conspiratione, restituit.” Swegen Aggesson (c. 5; Langebek, i. 54) is much fuller. Henry, already Emperor, marries Gunhild; he is driven from Rome by a sedition, and comes to crave help of his father-in-law (“quem quum Romani tumultuaria seditione a regio pepulissent solio, socerum adiens ejus auxilium imploravit”). Cnut, seemingly glad of the chance (“nactus occasionem illustris ille præcluisque Kanutus”), sets out to avenge his wrongs. On the road, seemingly by way of pastime, he ravages Gaul (“assumpto exercitu suo, primo Galliam depopulando invasit”); he then harries Lombardy and Italy, which, it will be remembered, Swegen had already reckoned as separate kingdoms, and compels the Romans to receive their Emperor back again (“multimoda virtute compulit Romanos civitatem sibi resignare, tandemque Imperatorem et generum throno suo restituit”). He then goes to France, which is seemingly looked on as something different from Gaul; yet most certainly Latin and not Teutonic Francia is intended, for Cnut goes to Tours (“cum ingenti tripudio ad Franciam usque commeavit, Turonisque profectus,” &c.) and carries off thence (“potenter secum asportavit”) the relics of Saint Martin, which he translates to Rouen, on account of his great love for that city; “eo quod illam [Rothomagum] præ ceteris specialem diligeret.” This wild talk about Rouen must be compared with another equally wild tale which I shall have to mention presently about Cnut dying before Rouen.

It is no wonder that Swegen’s editor says, “Mirum est Suenonem et in hoc et in plurimis historiæ Canuti M. momentis adeo hallucinatum esse.” Swegen wrote about 1186, in the days of Frederick Barbarossa and Henry the Sixth, and it is worth noting how thoroughly both he and his elder contemporary Wace look on the Roman Emperor as the local sovereign of Rome, in opposition to William of Malmesbury’s slipshod talk about “Imperator Alemannorum.”

About Gunhild, William of Malmesbury has a legend which is the same as that of Sir Aldingar and Queen Eleanor in Percy’s Reliques. The King’s name in both tales is Henry. Gunhild left a daughter, Beatrice, Abbess of Quedlingburg (see Struvius, i. 355). The only English princess, Matilda daughter of Henry the Second, who was the mother of an Emperor, was not the wife of an Emperor or even of a King.

On the cession of Sleswick, Adam, as quoted in the text, seems quite explicit. On the Eider as the boundary of the Carolingian Empire, see the Annals of Einhard, 808, 811, 815, 828, and the Annals of Fulda (Pertz, i. 355 et seqq.), 811, 857, 873. Nothing can be plainer than the last passage, “fluvium nomine Egidoram, qui illos [Danos] et Saxones dirimit.” In saying that it remained the boundary till 1866, I should perhaps except the time of confusion, 1806–1814, when the Roman Empire had been dissolved and when the German Confederation had not yet been founded. During these years Holstein, the “Transalbiana Saxonia” of Einhard, was united to the kingdom of Denmark by an act as regular as any act of that irregular time.

NOTE OOO. p. 469. ÆLFRED THE GIANT.

Ælfred is a name so purely English that the presumption in favour of the English birth of any one bearing it in this generation is extremely strong. There is no doubt that Ælfred is the name intended. The giant is “Alvredus cognomento gigas” in William of Jumièges, and “Alvredus” is the name by which he calls the English Ætheling Ælfred. In the Roman de Rou he is “Auvere,” “Alverei,” “Alvere;” the Ætheling is “Auvered” and “Alvred.” So in Mary of France (see Roquefort, ii. 34 and vol. iii. p. 572, iv. p. 796, v. p. 594) Ælfred appears as “Auvert,” “Auvres,” “Alurez,” “Affrus.” The only chance against Ælfred being an Englishman is the chance—a somewhat faint one, I think—that the name may also have been in use among the Saxons of Bayeux. M. Pluquet (Roman de Rou, ii. 17) says that the name is still common in the district, seemingly under the form of “Auvray.” But “Auvray” may be “Alberic;” and we shall find that Ælfred and Eadward were just the two English names which we shall find that a later generation of Normans did adopt.

I have a note, but I cannot lay my hand on the reference, of a charter of Hugh Capet in 967 signed by “Alfredus monachus;” and “Alfridus abbas Sancti Vulmari” signs in 1026 (Chron. Sithiense, p. 175) a charter of Baldwin, Bishop of Terouanne. These two can hardly be the same man, but both may be Englishmen. It is more singular to find the name in Italy. Yet we read in Donizo’s Life of the Countess Matilda (Murat. v. 372),

“Ac Mons Alfredi capitur certamine freni.”

Was the mount called from any English pilgrim, the great King himself perhaps, or did any cognate name exist among Goths or Lombards? The elfish names are mainly English; yet Elberich is said to be the same as Ælfric, and Alboin as Ælfwine. See Miss Yonge’s Christian Names, ii. 346, 347.

Our Ælfred signs two charters with the title of “vicecomes,” one in 1025 and one in 1027. He afterwards became a monk at Cerisy. Roman de Rou, 8717 et seqq. He seems (see Neustria Pia, 660) to have left a son William and a daughter who bears the odd-sounding name of Athselinoc. Can this be a corruption of any English name beginning with æðel?

NOTE PPP. p. 473. CNUT’S RELATIONS WITH NORMANDY.

The Norman and English writers do not mention the marriage of Robert and Estrith. It is asserted by Saxo, Adam of Bremen, and Rudolf Glaber. But the two former tell the story with much confusion, making Estrith marry, not Robert, but Richard. They both connect this marriage with Cnut’s own marriage with Emma. Saxo’s words (p. 193) are; “Quum Anglorum rebus obtentis nectendam cum finitimis amicitiam decrevisset, Normanniæ præfecti [an odd title] Roberti filiam Immam matrimonio duxit, ejusque fratri Rikardo sororem Estritham conjugio potiendam permisit.” The utter confusion of Saxo’s ideas about the Norman Dukes is manifest. Adam (ii. 52) says; “Chnud regnum Adalradi accepit uxoremque ejus Immam nomine, quæ fuit soror comitis Nortmannorum Rikardi. Cui rex Danorum suam dedit germanam Margaretam pro fœdere. Quam deinde Chnut, repudiatam a comite, Wolf duci Angliæ dedit.... Et Rikardus quidem comes, declinans iram Chnut, Jherosolimam profectus, ibidem obiit, relinquens filium in Nortmannia nomine Rodbertum, cujus filius est iste Willelmus quem Franci Bastardum vocant.” Here we get a little light. The marriages of Richard the Good with Judith and Papia are well ascertained, and there is no room left for a marriage with Estrith. But, as Lappenberg remarks (479. Eng. Tr. ii. 217), Adam’s mention of the pilgrimage to Jerusalem shows that Robert is the person really meant among all this confusion. Lastly, Rudolf Glaber, a better authority on such a point than Saxo or even than Adam, steps in to settle the matter. He describes (iv. 6. p. 47) Robert’s pilgrimage to Jerusalem and his death without lawful issue, “quamlibet sororem Anglorum regis Canuc manifestum est duxisse uxorem, quam odiendo divortium fecerat.” This seems to put the fact of a marriage between Robert and Estrith on firm ground. Among the Danish annalists, the Esrom Annals (Lang. i. 236) simply copy Adam of Bremen; those of Roskild (Lang. i. 377) tell the same tale in different words; “Kanutus victor exsistens, ipsam Ymmam duxit uxorem, genuitque ex ea filium Hartheknud. Kanutus Ricardo suam dedit sororem nomine Estrid. Quæ ab illo repudiata duci Ulf sine fratris consensu [cf. Saxo’s tale quoted in p. 746] est conjuncta.” The name Margaret given by Adam to the Danish princess is remarkable. Estrith might possibly, like Emma and Eadgyth the daughter of Malcolm, have been required to take a Norman name on her marriage. But the name of Margaret, which became popular only through Eadgyth’s mother, is rare throughout the century, and this would perhaps be the first instance of it in the West.

As for the date of the marriage, see Lappenberg, ii. 217, and Pertz’s note to Adam, ii. 52. A dispute between Robert and Cnut which could be connected, even mythically, with Cnut’s death and Robert’s pilgrimage must be placed quite late in their reigns. And as the offender is always looked on as the reigning Duke, 1028, or (if we take the reckoning of Florence under 1026 and the Peterborough Chronicle under 1024) 1026, is the earliest year to which the transaction can be referred. Ulf was killed in 1025. William the Bastard was born in 1027 or 1028. As for Estrith’s dowry, Saxo tells us that Cnut, before her marriage with Ulf, “sororem Sialandiæ redditam regiarum partium functione donavit” (p. 194). After Ulf’s death, execution, or murder, “Canutus violatæ necessitudinis injuriam, ac sororis viduitatem, duarum provinciarum attributione pensavit” (p. 197). He adds that she gave them to the Church of Roskild. The Roskild Annals (Lang. i. 377) makes her rebuild the church with stone, it having before been of wood; “Honorifice sepelivit, ecclesiamque lapideam in loco ligneæ construxit, quam multis modis ditavit.”

I need hardly say that Cnut’s expedition to Normandy is quite mythical. We have already seen (see above, p. 768) a legendary account of a campaign of Cnut in Gaul, including a visit to Rouen, which seems to have grown out of his Roman pilgrimage. The present legend seems further to mingle up with this the pilgrimage of Robert to Jerusalem and the beginning of the Norman exploits in Sicily and Apulia. Saxo, so far as anything can be made out of his chronology, seems to make two Norman expeditions on the part of Cnut. The first (p. 194) seems to be early in his reign; “Rikardum, acerrimum uxoris osorem effectum, patria exegit.” Afterwards (pp. 200, 201) we have the story of his great expedition and death before Rouen. Richard is still Duke, but, for fear of Cnut, he flees to Sicily; “Cujus [Canuti] impetum Richardus Siciliam petens, fuga præcurrere maturavit.” The mention of Sicily is of course suggested by the exploits of the Normans in those regions. Adam, as we have seen, makes Richard flee to Jerusalem. His scholiast adds that the conquest of Apulia was begun by forty of his comrades on their return. The source of confusion is obvious.

This wild story of Cnut’s death before Rouen seems peculiar to Saxo. Several of the other Danish writers distinctly assert his death in England. Chron. Esrom. ap. Langebek, i. 236 (which makes him die in 1037); Chron. Rosk. i. 377. The attempt of Robert against England is described by William of Jumièges (vi. 10, 11) and Wace (Roman de Rou, 7897 et seqq.). I have followed their account in the text. Only two English writers mention it, William of Malmesbury (ii. 180) and John of Wallingford (Gale, 549–550). William mentions only the intended invasion, and says nothing of the embassies before and after it. John of Wallingford tells the story much as William of Jumièges does, only, with the usual confusion, he talks of Richard instead of Robert. But it is plain from the two Williams that Robert was the Duke concerned, so that John of Wallingford is clearly wrong when he places the story in the first years of Cnut—“in primordiis regni sui.”

William of Jumièges (vi. 10) thus describes the message sent by Robert to Cnut; “Mandavit Chunuto regi ut jamjamque satiatus eorum [the Æthelings] exterminio illis parceret, et sua eis vel sero pro sui amoris obtentu redderet.” So John of Wallingford; “Venerunt legati a Normannia ... qui cum Cnutone de regni jure disceptantes juvenibus prædictis regnum postulabant.”

William of Jumièges, it should be mentioned, distinctly implies the personal presence of Robert on board the fleet, but says nothing of that of the Ætheling. Wace (7941) speaks of both Robert and Eadward.

NOTE QQQ. p. 480. THE DIVISION OF CNUT’S DOMINIONS.

That Cnut, like Charles, established a system of under-kingdoms, to be held by his sons in subordination to his own Imperial authority, is distinctly asserted by Saxo (196). “Inde [from Rome, see p. 768] reversus, Haraldum natu majorem Angliæ, Daniæ Canutum, Norvagiæ Suenonem, quem ex Alvina sustulerat, absque ulla majestatis suæ diminutione præfecit. Nam etsi tres provincias totidem filiorum regimini tradidit, nihilominus commune sibi trium imperium reservavit, neque summam penes alium consistere voluit. Præterea teneris adhuc ducibus in officiorum tutelam fortissimorum præsidia sociavit.” The Knytlinga Saga (c. 17; Johnstone, 144) gives a similar account, only instead of England, it makes Harold Under-king over part of Scotland (see above, p. 761); “Knutr konungr hafdi oc til forrada mikinn hlut af Skotlandi, oc setti hann þar Haralld son sinn konung ysir: enn þo var Knutr konungr ysir-konungr [overkonge] allra þeirra.” Now this statement that Cnut established his sons as Under-kings under the guardianship of some of his chief men falls in exactly with the statement in our own Chronicles that Thurkill was established in Denmark as guardian to one of Cnut’s sons (see p. 429). The words of the passage (1023) are, “And he betæhte Þurcille Denemearcan and his sunu to healdenne;” but the details of this arrangement, as described both in Saxo and in the saga, seem open to much doubt. There is not a shadow of evidence that Harold ever reigned as Under-king in England, and the statement that he reigned in Scotland, though very remarkable, is hardly to be accepted without better authority than that of the Knytlinga Saga. The further question arises, who was the son whom Cnut left in Denmark? Not Harthacnut, who succeeded him there, for that kingly bairn was with his mother in England (see Chron. Wig. in anno). It must have been one of the two doubtful sons, Swegen and Harold, whom it may have been convenient to remove from England, together with their mother, “the other Ælfgifu.” She and Swegen, it is well known, were afterwards quartered in Norway, and this looks as if Harold were now, in the like sort, quartered in Denmark. This would prove a change of purpose on Cnut’s part as to the succession of his children, as it was Harthacnut who actually succeeded him in Denmark.

On Swegen’s reign in Norway under the guardianship of his mother, see Saxo, 196; Snorro, c. 252; Laing, ii. 344. I suspect that Saxo conceived the three sons as having been Under-kings in the several kingdoms to which they actually succeeded; but if it be true, as seems likely, that Harold was first quartered as Under-king in Denmark and afterwards displaced to make way for Harthacnut, the fact becomes of importance with reference to the disputed election which followed his death.

As to the division on Cnut’s death there seems no doubt at all. The account given by Adam (ii. 72) runs thus; “Post cujus mortem, ut ipse disposuit, succedunt in regnum filii ejus, Haroldus in Angliam, Svein in Nortmanniam, Hardechnut autem in Daniam.... Suein et Harold a concubina geniti erant; qui, ut mos est barbaris, æquam tunc inter liberos Chnut sortiti sunt partem hæreditatis.” This is copied by the Esrom Chronicle, Lang. i. 237; cf. Chron. Rosk. p. 377; Chron. Erici, p. 159. As Harold actually succeeded in England, foreign writers seem to have taken for granted that his succession was in accordance with Cnut’s will; but it is evident that Cnut latterly intended England for Harthacnut.

On the expulsion of Swegen and Ælfgifu from Norway, see Snorro, Saga of Magnus, c. 4; Laing, ii. 363.

NOTE RRR. p. 482. THE CANDIDATURE OF HAROLD AND HARTHACNUT.

I have gathered my account of this disputed election wholly from our own Chronicles, which are the only trustworthy guides. The cause of all the difficulties and contradictions with which the subject is involved, is the fact that the division of the kingdom between Harold and Harthacnut proved a mere ephemeral arrangement, and was set aside within two years. It seems therefore to have quite passed out of mind, except with the very few writers with whom minute accuracy was really an object. No one would find out the fact from Adam of Bremen, from the Encomiast, or even from William of Malmesbury. Of the Danish writers it is needless to speak. The Encomiast (iii. 1 et seqq.) sees, so does William of Malmesbury (ii. 188) still more plainly, that a strong opposition was made to the election of Harold; they do not see that that opposition was so far successful that a temporary sovereignty over a part of the kingdom was secured to Harthacnut. Even Florence, seemingly hesitating, as he sometimes does, between two versions of a story, tells the tale with some confusion. But on comparing the Abingdon, Worcester, and Peterborough Chronicles, the matter becomes much clearer. The Peterborough Chronicle is the primary authority for the division of parties in the Witenagemót, for the division of the kingdom between the two competitors, for the regency of Emma and Godwine on behalf of Harthacnut. Its statements are copied, with more or less of confusion and misconception, by the Canterbury Chronicle, Florence, and William of Malmesbury. The Abingdon and Worcester Chronicles do not distinctly mention the division of the kingdom under the year 1035; but they imply it under 1037, in the words, “Hér man geceas Harald ofer eall to cinge, and forsoc Harðacnut,” which, unless Harthacnut had before possessed part of the kingdom, would be meaningless. Oddly enough, the Peterborough Chronicler does not distinctly mention this second election of Harold, though he perhaps alludes to it in the words, “And he [Harold] wæs þæh full cyng ofer eall Englaland.” Thus the two accounts in the Chronicles fill up gaps in each other, and between the two we get a full and consistent narrative.

I believe the controversy to have lain wholly between the two sons of Cnut, Harold and Harthacnut. That there was a party in favour of one of the sons of Æthelred (see p. 476) is asserted by William of Malmesbury (ii. 188); “Angli diu obstiterunt, magis unum ex filiis Ethelredi, qui in Normannia morabantur, vel Hardecnutum filium Cnutonis ex Emma, qui tunc in Danemarchia erat, regem habere volentes.” But in the Chronicles, where the proceedings in the Witenagemót are described, we hear nothing of any voices being raised on the side of the Æthelings, and William himself says (u. s.) of a time a little later; “Filii Ethelredi jam fere omnibus despectui erant, magis propter paternæ socordiæ memoriam, quam propter Danorum potentiam.” These last words are at least a witness to the freedom of election on this occasion.

The geographical division of parties is clearly marked in the Peterborough Chronicle, which is also the only one which notices the share taken by London in the election. We now hear only of the “liðsmen,” not, as in the election of 1016, of the “burhwaru.” The proposal for a division I understand to come from Harold’s supporters, most likely from Leofric, the natural mediator between the two extreme parties. I do not see what else can be the meaning of the expression in the Peterborough Chronicle that Leofric and others chose Harold and Harthacnut (“Leofric eorl and mæst ealle þa þegenas be norðan Temese and þa liðsmen on Lunden gecuron Harold to healdes Englelandes; him and his broðer Hardacnute, þe wæs on Denemearcon”). This proposal—namely the division—Godwine and the West-Saxons resist (“and Godwine eorl and ealle þa yldestan menn on West-Seaxon lagon ongean, swa hi lengost mihton; ac hi ne mihton nan þing ongean wealcan”); that is, they claim the whole kingdom for Harthacnut. At last they are obliged to consent to the division and the regency (“and man gerædde þa þæt Ælfgifu Hardacnutes modor sæte on Winceastre mid þæs cynges huscarlum hyra suna, and heoldan ealle West-Seaxan him to handa; and Godwine eorl was heora healdest man”). Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 758 B) translates this account, but he was evidently puzzled by the words about electing Harold and Harthacnut, as he says, “elegerunt Haraldum, ut conservaret regnum fratri suo Hardecnut”—a most unlikely story. The last clause he translates; “Consilium ergo inierunt quod Emma regina cum regis defuncti familia [huscarlum?] conservaret Westsexe apud Wincestre in opus filii sui, Godwinus vero consul dux eis esset in re militari.” Henry says nothing of the second election of Harold in 1037. William of Malmesbury (ii. 188), though telling the story in a most confused way, seems quite to take in the position of Godwine; “Maximus tum justitiæ propugnator fuit Godwinus comes, qui etiam pupillorum [his notion about the sons of Æthelred, as well as Harthacnut, here comes in] se tutorem professus, reginam Emmam et regias gazas custodiens, resistentes umbone nominis sui aliquamdiu dispulit; sed tandem, vi et numero impar, cessit violentiæ.” Mr. St. John (Four Conquests, ii. 106, 107) makes Godwine first assert the rights of the Æthelings, which I suppose is his interpretation of the words of William, and then himself propose the compromise in favour of Harthacnut. For this he refers us to Simeon; but Simeon (X Scriptt. 179) only copies the narrative of Florence, and that narrative, as well as that of the “Saxon Chronicle” [Abingdon as opposed to Peterborough?], Mr. St. John had just before cast aside as “confusing the whole subject.”

I see that the idea of the Imperial supremacy being reserved to Harold has also occurred to Mr. St. John (ii. 110). It was suggested to me by the words of the Peterborough Chronicle (evidently misunderstood by the Canterbury Chronicler), “And he [Harold] wæs þæh full cyng ofer eall Englaland.” This however, as I remarked just above, may perhaps refer to Harold’s second election in 1037. The same idea might also lurk in the other words of the Peterborough Chronicler, quoted in the last page, “gecuron Harold to healdes ealles Englelandes; him and his broðer Hardacnute,” &c. But an Imperial supremacy on the part of Harold seems quite consistent with the general tenor of events, and such a supposition may perhaps render the account of the fate of the Ætheling Ælfred one degree less obscure.

The story of Æthelnoth’s refusal to crown Harold comes wholly from the Encomium Emmæ, iii. 1. But it is possible that the tale, if true, may belong to the second election of Harold in 1037, and may have been thrust back in the confused chronology of the Encomiast. A coronation, sooner or later, seems quite certain. It is asserted by Ralph de Diceto, ii. 238, ed. Stubbs; “Haroldus filius Cnutonis regnavit annis iii. consecratus ab Ethelnodo Dorobernensi archiepiscopo apud Lundonias.” So Roger of Wendover (i. 473); “Prævaluit pars Haroldi, et regni Angliæ illum diademate insignivit.” According to Bromton (X Scriptt. 932), Harold was “ab Ethelnodo Dorobernensi archiepiscopo apud Lundonias consecratus.” But the higher authority of the list of coronations in Rishanger (427) places it at Oxford, which seems to have been Harold’s capital. Believers in the false Ingulf may also entertain themselves with a story about Harold’s coronation robe, and a great deal more about which authentic history is silent. See St. John, ii. 107–110.

NOTE SSS. p. 489. THE DEATH OF THE ÆTHELING ÆLFRED.

I have stated in the text the chief versions as to the death of Ælfred. The different statements may be grouped under two main heads, those which put the event at its right date under the reign of Harold, and those which move it to some other time. It is the former class whose statements we must weigh against other; the latter are useful mainly as illustrating particular points, and as examples of the way in which legends grow.

The earliest English account is that which is found, in different shapes, in the Abingdon and Worcester Chronicles. Peterborough is silent about the whole matter. The story, except a few lines at the beginning, takes the form of a ballad, as it appears in Mr. Earle’s Parallel Chronicles. It is astonishing that Mr. Thorpe should have printed it as plain prose, when it plainly is, not only, like the songs of Brunanburh and Maldon, in rhythm, but actually in rime. This was seen long ago by Dr. Ingram, who not only printed it as verse, but attempted a riming version of his own in modern English. I have in the text analysed the account thus given. The remarkable point is that the Abingdon Chronicle distinctly accuses Godwine, while the Worcester version leaves out his name. In the prose introduction, Ælfred the innocent (“unsceððiga”) Ætheling lands and wishes to go to his mother, who sat at Winchester. Then says Abingdon, “Ac hit him ne geþafode Godwine eorl ne éc oþre men þe mycel mihton wealdan: forþan hit hleoðrode þa, swiðe toward Haraldes, þeh hit unriht wære.” But in Worcester it stands, “Ac þæt ne geþafodon þa þe micel weoldon on þisan lande; forþan hit hleoþrade þa swiðe to Harolde, þeah hit unriht wære.” So the beginning of the ballad stands in Abingdon,

“Ac Godwine hine þa gelette, And hine on hæft sette;”

while in the Worcester version it runs,

“Ða let he [Harold] hine on hæft settan.”

There can be no doubt that here the Abingdon version is the original, and that the Worcester text, which destroys rhythm and rime, was altered by an admirer of Godwine. But as to the prose introduction the case is far less clear; the words “Godwine eorl ne éc oþre men” might just as well be an interpolation. So in Florence the mention of Godwine comes in very awkwardly; “Quod indigne graviterque ferebant potentes nonnulli, quia, licet injustum esset, Haroldo multo devotiores exstitere quam illis, maxime, ut fertur, comes Godwinus.”

Florence’s version is made up by modifying the account in the Chronicles, with some touches from other quarters. He makes both brothers come, changing the words “Ælfred se unsceððiga æþeling” into “innocentes clitones Ælfredus et Eadwardus.” While in the Chronicles Ælfred simply wishes to go to his mother (“wolde to his moder þe on Wincestre sæt”), and is hindered by certain men, Godwine or others, in this account both the Æthelings actually visit their mother (“ad suæ matris colloquium, quæ morabatur Wintoniæ, venere”), and Godwine and the other powerful men are simply displeased at their coming (“indigne graviterque ferebant,” as above). Then comes the strangest part of his statement; that Godwine seized and imprisoned Ælfred is simply translated from the ballad, but Florence now introduces the almost incomprehensible assertion that Ælfred, when he was seized, was going to London for a conference with Harold; “Hic quidem [Godwinus] Ælfredum, quum versus Lundoniam, ad regis Haroldi colloquium, ut mandarat, properaret, retinuit, et arcta in custodia posuit [‘hine þa gelette and hine on hæft sette’].” The companions of Ælfred, to the number of six hundred, are sold, killed, or tortured at Guildford; the place is not mentioned in the Chronicles. Emma then sends back her son Eadward, who had stayed with her (“qui secum remansit”) and had not set out with his brother, with all haste to Normandy. Then, at the bidding of Godwine and certain others (“Godwini et quorumdam aliorum jussione”), Ælfred is taken to Ely, and the rest of the story follows as in the ballad.

It is plain that Florence in writing this had one or both of the Chronicles before him, and tried to work in details from other sources which were really inconsistent with the account which the Chronicles gave. One change is of special importance. The ballad simply mentions the companions (“geferan”) of Ælfred without any account of their number or who they were. Florence makes them six hundred, and adds the very important statement that they were Norman knights or soldiers. The Æthelings come, “multis Normannicis militibus secum assumptis, in Angliam paucis transvecti navibus.” This touch clearly comes from the Norman version, which represents the first attempt of the Æthelings as an actual invasion, an idea which the Chronicles do not suggest. It is also plainly from the same source that he got the idea that Eadward had any share in the business.

The ballad in the two Chronicles has about it something of that vagueness which is natural in a poem which is rather a pious lamentation than a narrative. The Norman account, true or false, is at least fuller and clearer. It first appears in William of Poitiers, the Conqueror’s chaplain, the extant part of whose narrative begins at this point. He is followed by William of Jumièges (vii. 8, 9), who is followed by Wace (Roman de Rou, 9759 et seqq.). I have given the substance of their story in the text, and I do not know that there is anything to remark, except that at the end of his tale William of Poitiers turns round and reviles Godwine in an address in the second person, much as at a later stage of his narrative he reviles Harold.

We now come to the version of the Encomiast. He is a perplexing writer to deal with; one knows not what to make of an historian who was either so easily imposed upon or else so utterly reckless as to truth. A contemporary writer who wipes out Emma’s marriage with Æthelred, who looks on the Æthelings as sons of Cnut, who is ignorant that his heroine was actually Queen-regent over Wessex, is really somewhat of a curiosity. His astounding statement (ii. 18) that Eadward and Ælfred were the sons of Cnut I have already spoken of in Note BBB. In his present account (iii. 1) Emma remained in England after the death of Cnut, grieving for the death of her husband and the absence of her sons (“sollicita pro filiorum absentia”). He then goes on; “Namque unus eorum, Hardecnuto scilicet, quem pater regem Danorum constituit, suo morabatur in regno; duo vero alii in Normanniæ finibus ad nutriendum traditi, cum propinquo suo degebant Rotberto.” These last are the sons of whom one, Ælfred, the younger of the two (“Alfridus minor natu,” iii. 4), is the victim of the present story. It is plain therefore that the “liberales filii” of Cnut, spoken of in the former passage, are meant to be the same as the Æthelings. All three brothers being absent, “factum est,” he goes on to say, “ut quidam Anglorum, pietatem regis sui jam defuncti obliti, mallent regnum suum dedecorare quam ornare, relinquentes nobiles filios insignis reginæ Emmæ, et eligentes sibi in regem quemdam Haroldum,” &c., &c. (see above, p. 775). He then goes on with Æthelnoth’s refusal to crown Harold (see above, p. 487), and with Harold’s ungodly manner of life (see p. 504). Then comes the forged letter and the rest of the story, as I have told it in the text. The piece of detail most worthy of notice is the writer’s remarks (iii. 5) on the decimation of Ælfred’s companions (on the alleged decimation at Canterbury in 1012, see above, p. 674);

“Traditi sunt carnificibus, quibus etiam jussum ut nemini parcerent nisi quem sors decima offerret. Tunc tortores vinctos ordinatim sedere fecerunt, satis supraque eis insultantes, illius interfectoris Thebææ legionis exemplo usi sunt, qui decimavit primum innocentes multo his mitius. Ille enim rex paganissimus Christianorum novem pepercit, occiso decimo: at hi profanissimi falsissimique Christiani bonorum Christianorum novem perimerunt, decimo dimisso.”

Now when a writer, whether through ignorance or through design, goes so utterly wrong about the birth of his hero, about the position of his heroine and the general condition of the kingdom, one hardly knows how to accept anything that he tells us. Yet his account, if used with caution, seems to supply some useful hints. His account is the only one which, while consistent with Godwine’s innocence, explains the origin of the belief as to his guilt. If we accept his account of what happened between Godwine and Ælfred, the various statements become intelligible; we see how the opposite stories could arise, which in any other way it is hard to see. The tale of the forged letter has a very odd sound, and the details may easily be mythical. Yet something of the kind would fill up the gap in the Chronicles, in which Ælfred comes over to England without any particular reason for his coming, better than William of Poitiers’ wild tale of a Norman invasion, which is most likely a mere repetition of the attempt of Robert.

The Encomiast seems to have had no notion that Emma was at Winchester, but rather to have fancied that she was in London. Ælfred, before he has landed, is recognized by his enemies, who wish to seize him (“volebant eum adgredi,” iii. 4), but he escapes, lands elsewhere, and sets out to go to his mother (“matrem parabat adire”). When he has got near to her (“ubi jam erat proximus”), he is met by Godwine, who persuades him not to go to London, and takes him to Guildford (“devians eum a Londonia, induxit eum in villa Gildefordia nuncupata”). The mistake is remarkable, for to quarter Emma in London instead of at Winchester implies utter ignorance as to her real position. But it seems quite plain that the Encomiast did not mean to identify Godwine either with the “adversarii” of Ælfred whom he had mentioned just before, nor yet with the “complices Haroldi infandissimi tyranni” (iii. 5), who are spoken of afterwards. And he expressly shuts out the story of invasion and battle which appears in William of Poitiers. The companions of Ælfred are indeed called “commilitones” (iii. 4), but, when Baldwin offers him the help of an armed force, he declines it (“cum marchione Balduino moratus, et ab eo rogatus ut aliquam partem suæ militiæ secum duceret propter insidias hostium”). This seems to forbid the notion of a force such as the Norman writers speak of, a force which could dream of the conquest of England or even of Wessex.

The only other independent witness is the strong partizan of Godwine, the Biographer of Eadward (Vita Eadw. 401). He perhaps shows some wish to slur the story over; but his account of the time between the death of Cnut and the election of Eadward is throughout confused and meagre. He brings in the story of Ælfred only incidentally, not in its chronological place, but much later, when describing the attempts of the Norman Archbishop Robert to sow dissensions between King Eadward and the Earl. He merely says that Ælfred, incautiously entering the country with some French companions, was seized and put to death by torture by order of Harold, his comrades being killed, sold, and so forth. As Godwine was still, under Harold as under Cnut, the chief counsellor of the King (“eo quoque tempore, ut superius, regalium consiliorum erat bajalus.” See above, p. 733), the slanderer Robert took occasion to affirm that the deed was done by Godwine’s advice; but the Biographer strongly asserts the Earl’s innocence.

Spotted a typo or a problem in this chapter? Tell us