V. PREFACE…

V. PREFACE

Summoned by the progress of events, we have entered on the times of king Henry; to transmit whose actions to posterity, requires an abler hand than ours. For, were only those particulars recorded which have reached our knowledge, they would weary the most eloquent, and might overload a library. Who, then, will attempt to unfold in detail all his profound counsels, all his royal achievements? These are matters too deep for me, and require more leisure than I possess. Scarcely Cicero himself, whose eloquence is venerated by all the Western world, would attempt it in prose; and in verse, not even a rival of the Mantuan Bard. In addition to this, it is to be observed, that while I, who am a man of retired habits, and far from the secrets of a court, withhold my assent from doubtful relators, being ignorant of his greater achievements, I touch only on a few events. Wherefore, it is to be feared, that where my information falls beneath my wishes, the hero, whose numerous exploits I omit, may appear to suffer. However, for this, if it be a fault, I shall have a good excuse with him who shall recollect that I could not be acquainted with the whole of his transactions, nor ought I to relate even all that I did know. The insignificance of my condition effects the one; the disgust of my readers would be excited by the other. This fifth book, then, will display some few of his deeds, while fame, no doubt, will blazon the rest, and lasting memory transmit them to posterity. Nor will it deviate from the design of the preceding four, but particularise some things which happened during his time here and elsewhere, which perchance are either unrecorded, or unknown to many: they will occupy, indeed, a considerable portion of the volume, while I must claim the usual indulgence for long digressions, as well in this as in the others.

Of Henry the First. [A.D. 1100-1129.]

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1100.] HENRY I.]

Henry, the youngest son of William the Great, was born in England[462] the third year after his father’s arrival; a child, even at that time, fondly cherished by the joint good wishes of all, as being the only one of William’s sons born in royalty, and to whom the kingdom seemed to pertain. The early years of instruction he passed in liberal arts, and so thoroughly imbibed the sweets of learning, that no warlike commotions, no pressure of business, could ever erase them from his noble mind: although he neither read much openly, nor displayed his attainments except sparingly. His learning, however, to speak the truth, though obtained by snatches, assisted him much in the science of governing; according to that saying of Plato, “Happy would be the commonwealth, if philosophers governed, or kings would be philosophers.” Not slenderly tinctured by philosophy, then, by degrees, in process of time, he learned how to restrain the people with lenity; nor did he ever suffer his soldiers to engage but where he saw a pressing emergency. In this manner, by learning, he trained his early years to the hope of the kingdom; and often in his father’s hearing made use of the proverb, that “An illiterate king is a crowned ass.” They relate, too, that his father, observing his disposition, never omitted any means of cherishing his lively prudence; and that once, when he had been ill-used by one of his brothers, and was in tears, he spirited him up, by saying, “Weep not, my boy, you too will be a king.”

In the twenty-first year,[463] then, of his father’s reign, when he was nineteen years of age, he was knighted by him at Westminster during Pentecost; and then accompanying him to Normandy, was, shortly after, present at his funeral; the other brothers departing whither their hopes led them, as my former narrative has related. Wherefore, supported by the blessing of his father, together with his maternal inheritance and immense treasures, he paid little regard to the haughtiness of his brothers; assisting or opposing each of them as they merited. More attached, however, to Robert for his mildness, he took every means of stimulating his remissness by his own spirit. Robert, on the other hand, through blameable credulity, trusting to tale-bearers, injured his innocent brother in a way which it may not be irrelevant briefly to relate.

At the time when the nobility of England were rebelling against William the Second, while Robert was waiting a wind to sail over from Normandy, Henry had, by his command, departed into Brittany; when, eagerly seizing the opportunity, he expended on his troops all the large sum of money, amounting to three thousand marks, which had been bequeathed to the young man by the will of his father. Henry, on his return, though perhaps he endured this with difficulty, yet observed a cautious silence on the subject. However, hearing of the restoration of peace in England, the service was ended, and they laid aside their arms. The earl retired to his own territories: Henry to those which his brother had either given, or promised to give him. Indeed he placed his promises to account, retaining the tower of Rouen under fealty to Robert. But, by the accusation of some very infamous persons, his fidelity proved disadvantageous to him; and for no fault on his part, Henry was, in this very place, detained in free custody, lest he should escape the vigilance of his keepers. Released at the expiration of half a year, on the invitation of his brother William he offered him his services; but he, remunerating the young man no better, put him off, though in distress, with empty promises for more than a year. Wherefore, Robert, by his messengers, offering reparation for what had been done, he came to Normandy; having experienced attempts on his person from each of his brothers. For the king, angry at his departure, had in vain commanded him to be detained: and the earl, swayed by the arts of his accusers, had changed his intention; so that, when lured to him by soothing measures, he would not easily suffer him to depart. But he, escaping every danger by the providence of God and his own prudent caution, compelled his brother gladly to accede to peace, by seizing Avranches and some other castles. Soon after, William coming into Normandy to revenge himself on his brother Robert, Henry manifested his regard to the earl at Rouen. Finally, the king’s party coming thither in the day time, he spiritedly expelled them, when already, through the treachery of the citizens, they had over-run the whole city; sending a message to the earl, to oppose them in front, while he pressed upon their rear. In consequence of this transaction, one Conan was accused of treachery to the earl; who designed to cast him into chains: supposing that no greater calamity could be inflicted on the wretch, than dooming him to drag out a hated existence in prison. But Henry requested to have this Conan committed to his care; which being granted, he led him to the top of the tower at Rouen, and ordering him carefully to survey the surrounding territory from the heights of the citadel, ironically declaring it should all be his, he thrust him suddenly off the ramparts into the Seine below; protesting to his companions, who at the same time assisted him, that no respite was due to a traitor; that the injuries of a stranger might be endured in some manner or other; but that the punishment of a man who with an oath had done homage, when once convicted of perfidy, never should be deferred. This action weighed little with Robert, who was a man of changeable disposition, for he immediately became ungrateful, and compelled his deserving brother to retire from the city. This was the period in which, as has been before mentioned, Henry, as well for his security as for his fame, made a stand against both Robert and William at Mount St. Michael’s. Thus, though he had been faithful and serviceable to either brother, they, vouchsafing no establishment to the young man, trained him up, as he grew in years, to greater prudence, from the scantiness of his means.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1091.] HENRY ELECTED KING.]

But on the violent death of king William, as before related, after the solemnization of the royal funeral, he was elected king; though some trifling dissensions had first arisen among the nobility which were allayed chiefly through the exertions of Henry earl of Warwick, a man of unblemished integrity, with whom he had long been in the strictest intimacy. He immediately promulgated an edict throughout England, annulling the illegal ordinances[464] of his brother, and of Ranulph; he remitted taxes; released prisoners; drove the flagitious from court; restored the nightly use of lights within the palace, which had been omitted in his brother’s time;[465] and renewed the operation of the ancient laws,[466] confirming them with his own oath, and that of the nobility, that they might not be eluded. A joyful day then seemed to dawn on the people, when the light of fair promise shone forth after such repeated clouds of distress. And that nothing might be wanting to the aggregate of happiness, Ranulf, the dregs of iniquity, was cast into the gloom of a prison, and speedy messengers were despatched to recall Anselm. Wherefore, all vying in joyous acclamation, Henry was crowned king at London, on the nones of August, four days after his brother’s death. These acts were the more sedulously performed, lest the nobility should be induced to repent their choice; as a rumour prevailed, that Robert earl of Normandy, returning from Apulia, was just on the point of arriving. Soon after, his friends, and particularly the bishops, persuading him to give up meretricious pleasures and adopt legitimate wedlock, he married, on St. Martin’s day, Matilda,[467] daughter of Malcolm king of Scotland, to whom he had long been greatly attached; little regarding the marriage portion, provided he could possess her whom he so ardently desired. For though she was of noble descent, being grand-niece of king Edward, by his brother Edmund, yet she possessed but little fortune, being an orphan, destitute of either parent; of whom there will be more ample matter of relation hereafter.

In the meantime, Robert, arriving in Normandy, recovered his earldom without any opposition; on hearing which, almost all the nobility of this country violated the fealty which they had sworn to the king: some without any cause; some feigning slight pretences, because he would not readily give them such lands as they coveted. Robert Fitz-Haymon, and Richard de Rivers, and Roger Bigod, and Robert earl of Mellent, with his brother Henry, alone declared on the side of justice. But all the others either secretly sent for Robert to make him king, or openly branded their lord with sarcasms; calling him, Godric,[468] and his consort, Goddiva. Henry heard these taunts, and, with a terrific grin, deferring his anger, he repressed the contemptuous expressions cast on him by the madness of fools, by a studied silence; for he was a calm dissembler of his enmities, but, in due season, avenged them with fierceness. This tempest of the times was increased by the subtlety of Ranulf. For, concerting with his butler, he procured a rope to be sent him. The deceitful servant, who was water-bearer, carried him a very long one in a cask; by which he descended from the wall of the tower, but whether he hurt his arms, or grazed the skin off his hands, is a matter of no importance.[469] Escaping thence to Normandy, he stimulated the earl, already indignant and ripe for war, to come to England without a moment’s delay.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1101.] ROBERT LANDS AT PORTSMOUTH.]

In the second year, then, of Henry’s reign, in the month of August, arriving at Portsmouth, he landed, divided and posted his forces over the whole district. Nor did the king give way to indolence, but collected an innumerable army over against him, to assert his dignity, should it be necessary. For, though the nobility deserted him, yet was his party strong; being espoused by archbishop Anselm, with his brother bishops, and all the English. In consequence, grateful to the inhabitants for their fidelity, and anxious for their safety, he frequently went through the ranks, instructing them how to elude the ferocity of the cavalry by opposing their shields, and how to return their strokes. By this he made them voluntarily demand the fight, perfectly fearless of the Normans. Men, however, of sounder counsel interfering, who observed, that the laws of natural affection must be violated should brothers meet in battle, they shaped their minds to peace; reflecting, that, if one fell, the other would be the weaker, as there was no surviving brother. Besides, a promise of three thousand marks deceived the easy credulity of the earl; who imagined that, when he had disbanded his army, he might gratify his inclinations with such an immense sum of money: which, the very next year, he cheerfully surrendered to the queen’s pleasure, because she desired it.

The following year Robert de Belesme, eldest son of Roger de Montgomery, rebelled, fortifying the castles of Bridgenorth and Arundel against the king; carrying thither corn from all the district round Shrewsbury, and every necessary which war requires. The castle of Shrewsbury, too, joined the rebellion, the Welsh being inclined to evil on every occasion. In consequence, the king, firm in mind and bearing down every adverse circumstance by valour, collecting an army, laid siege to Bridgenorth, from whence Robert had already retired to Arundel; presuming from the plenty of provision and the courage of the soldiers, that the place was abundantly secure. But, after a few days, the townsmen, impelled by remorse of conscience and by the bravery of the king’s army, surrendered: on learning which, Arundel repressed its insolence; putting itself under the king’s protection, with this remarkable condition; that its lord, without personal injury, should be suffered to retire to Normandy. Moreover, the people of Shrewsbury sent the keys of the castle to the king by Ralph, at that time abbat of Sees, and afterwards archbishop of Canterbury, as tokens of present submission, and pledges of their future obedience. Thus, this fire of dissension which was expected to become excessive, wasted to ashes in the course of very few days; and the avidity of the revolters, perpetually panting after innovation, was repressed. Robert, with his brothers, Ernulph, who had obtained the surname of his father, and Roger the Poitevin, so called because he had married his wife from that country, abjured England for ever; but the strictness of this oath was qualified with a proviso, “unless he should satisfy the king on some future occasion, by his obedient conduct.”

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1102.] TROUBLES IN NORMANDY.]

The torch of war now lighted up in Normandy, receiving fresh fuel by the arrival of the traitors, blazed forth and seized every thing within its reach. Normandy, indeed, though not very wide in its extent, is a convenient and patient fosterer of the abandoned. Wherefore, for a long time, she well endures intestine broils; and on the restoration of peace, rises soon to a state more fruitful than before; at her pleasure ejecting her disturbers, when detected by the province, by an easy egress into France. Whereas England does not long endure the turbulent; but when once received to her bosom, either surrenders, or puts them to death; neither, when laid waste by tumult, does she again soon rear her recovering head. Belesme, then, arriving in Normandy, had, both at that time and afterwards, accomplices in his malignity, and lest this should seem too little, inciters also. Among others was William earl of Moreton, the son of Robert, the king’s uncle. He, from a boy, had been envious of Henry’s fame, and had, more especially, on the arrival of the Norman, manifested his evil disposition. For not content with the two earldoms, of Moreton in Normandy, and Cornwall in England, he demanded from the king the earldom of Kent, which Odo his uncle had held; so troublesome and presumptuous was he, that, with shameless arrogance, he vowed, that he would not put on his cloak till he could procure the inheritance derived to him from his uncle; for such was his expression. But even then the king, with his characteristic circumspection, beguiled him by the subtlety of an ambiguous answer. The tumult, however, being allayed and tranquillity restored, he not only refused assent to his demand, but persisted in recovering what he unjustly retained; though he did it with moderation, and the sanction of law, that none of his actions might appear illegal, or contrary to equity. William, ousted by the sentence of the law, retired, indignant and furious into Normandy. Here, in addition to his fruitless attacks upon the royal castles, he assailed Richard earl of Chester, the son of Hugh; invading, plundering, and destroying some places which formed part of his possessions: the earl himself being at that time a minor, and under the protection and guardianship of the king.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1102.] BATTLE AT TENERSEBREY.]

These two persons, then, the leaders of faction and fomenters of rebellion, in conjunction with others whom I am ashamed to particularize, harassed the country, far and wide, with their devastations. Complaints from the suffering inhabitants on the subject of their injuries, though frequent, were lavished upon the earl in vain. He was moved by them, it is true; but fearing on his own account, lest they should disturb his ease if offended, he dissembled his feelings. King Henry, however, felt deeply for his brother’s infamy, carried to the highest pitch by the sufferings of the country: aware, that it was the extreme of cruelty, and far from a good king’s duty, to suffer abandoned men to riot on the property of the poor. In consequence, he once admonished his brother, whom he had sent for into England, with fair words; but afterwards, arriving in Normandy, he severely reminded him, more than once, by arms, to act the prince rather than the monk. He also despoiled William, the instigator of these troubles, of every thing he had in England; razing his castles to the ground. But when he could, even thus, make no progress towards peace, the royal majesty long anxiously employed its thoughts, whether, regardless of fraternal affection, it should rescue the country from danger, or through blind regard, suffer it to continue in jeopardy. And indeed the common weal, and sense of right, would have yielded to motives of private affection, had not pope Paschal, as they say,[470] urged him, when hesitating, to the business by his letters: averring, with his powerful eloquence, that it would not be a civil war, but a signal benefit to a noble country. In consequence, passing over,[471] he, in a short time, took, or more properly speaking, received, the whole of Normandy; all flocking to his dominion, that he might provide, by his transcendent power, for the good of the exhausted province. Yet he achieved not this signal conquest without bloodshed; but lost many of his dearest associates. Among these was Roger of Gloucester, a tried soldier, who was struck on the head by a bolt from a cross-bow, at the siege of Falaise; and Robert Fitz-Haymon, who receiving a blow on the temple, with a lance, and losing his faculties, survived a considerable time, almost in a state of idiotcy.[472] They relate, that he was thus deservedly punished, because, for the sake of liberating him, king Henry had consumed the city of Bayeux, together with the principal church, with fire. Still, however, as we hope, they both atoned for it. For the king munificently repaired the damage of that church: and it is not easy to relate, how much Robert ennobled, by his favour, the monastery of Tewkesbury; where the splendour of the edifice, and the kindness of the monks, attract the eyes, and captivate the minds of the visitors. Fortune, however, to make up for the loss of these persons, put a finishing hand to the war, when at its height, and with little labour, gave his brother, when opposing him with no despicable force, together with William earl of Moreton, and Robert de Belesme, into his power. This battle was fought at Tenersebrey, a castle of the earl of Moreton’s, on Saturday the Vigil of St. Michael. It was the same day, on which, about forty years before, William had first landed at Hastings: doubtless by the wise dispensation of God, that Normandy should be subjected to England on the same day that the Norman power had formerly arrived to subjugate that kingdom. Here was taken the earl of Moreton, who came thither to fulfil his promise of strenuous assistance to the townsmen, as well as in the hope of avenging his injuries. But, made captive, as I have related, he passed the residue of his life in the gloom of a prison; meriting some credit from the vivacity of his mind, and the activity of his youth, but deserving an unhappy end, from his perfidy. Then, too, Belesme[473] escaped death by flight at the first onset; but when, afterwards, he had irritated the king by secret faction, he also was taken; and being involved in the same jeopardy with the others, he was confined in prison as long as he lived. He was a man intolerable from the barbarity of his manners, and inexorable to the faults of others; remarkable besides for cruelty; and, among other instances, on account of some trifling fault of its father, he blinded his godchild, who was his hostage, tearing out the little wretch’s eyes with his accursed nails: full of cunning and dissimulation, he used to deceive the credulous by the serenity of his countenance and the affability of his speech; though the same means terrified those who were acquainted with his malignity; as there was no greater proof of impending mischief, than his pretended mildness of address.

The king, thus splendidly successful, returned triumphant to his kingdom, having established such peace in Normandy as it had never known before; and such as even his father himself, with all his mighty pomp of words and actions, had never been able to accomplish. Rivalling his father also, in other respects, he restrained, by edict,[474] the exactions of the courtiers, thefts, rapine, and the violation of women; commanding the delinquents to be deprived of sight, as well as of their manhood. He also displayed singular diligence against the mintmasters, commonly called moneyers; suffering no counterfeiter, who had been convicted of deluding the ignorant by the practice of his roguery, to escape, without losing his hand.

Adopting the custom of his brother, he soothed the Scottish kings by his affability. For William made Duncan, the illegitimate son of Malcolm, a knight; and, on the death of his father, appointed him king of Scotland. When Duncan was taken off by the wickedness of his uncle Donald, he promoted Edgar to the kingdom; the above-mentioned Donald being despatched by the contrivance of David, the youngest brother, and the power of William. Edgar yielding to fate, Henry made affinity with Alexander, his successor, giving him his illegitimate daughter in marriage, by whom he had no issue that I know of; and when she died, he did not much lament her loss: for there was, as they affirm, some defect about the lady, either in correctness of manners, or elegance of person. Alexander resting with his ancestors, David the youngest of Malcolm’s sons, whom the king had made a knight and honoured with the marriage of a woman of quality, ascended the throne of Scotland. A youth more courtly than the rest, and who, polished, from a boy, by intercourse and familiarity with us, had rubbed off all the rust of Scottish barbarism. Finally, when he obtained the kingdom, he released from the payment of taxes, for three years, all such of his countrymen as would pay more attention to their dwellings, dress more elegantly, and feed more nicely. No history has ever recorded three kings, and at the same time brothers, who were of equal sanctity, or savoured so much of their mother’s piety; for independently of their abstemiousness, their extensive charity, and their frequency in prayer, they so completely subdued the domestic vice of kings, that no report, even, prevailed, that any entered their bed except their legitimate wives, or that either of them had ever been guilty of any unlawful intercourse. Edmund was the only degenerate son of Margaret, who, partaking in his uncle Donald’s crime, and bargaining for half his kingdom, had been accessary to his brother’s death. But being taken, and doomed to perpetual imprisonment, he sincerely repented; and, on his near approach to death, ordered himself to be buried in his chains: confessing that he suffered deservedly for the crime of fratricide.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1106.] HENRY’S EXPEDITION TO WALES.]

The Welsh, perpetually rebelling, were subjugated by the king in repeated expeditions, who, relying on a prudent expedient to quell their tumults, transported thither all the Flemings then resident in England. For that country contained such numbers of these people, who, in the time of his father, had come over from national relationship to his mother, that, from their numbers, they appeared burdensome to the kingdom. In consequence he settled them, with all their property and connexions, at Ross, a Welsh province, as in a common receptacle, both for the purpose of cleansing the kingdom, and repressing the brutal temerity of the enemy. Still, however, he did not neglect leading his expeditions thither, as circumstances required: in one of which, being privily aimed at with an arrow from a distance, though by whose audacity is unknown, he opportunely and fortunately escaped, by the interposition of his firmly mailed hauberk, and the counsel of God at the same time frustrating this treachery. But neither was the director of the arrow discovered at that time, nor could he ever after be detected, although the king immediately declared, that it was not let fly by a Welshman, but by a subject; swearing to it, by the death of our Lord, which was his customary oath when moved, either by excess of anger or the importance of the occasion. For at that very time the army was marching cautiously and slowly upon its own ground, not in an enemy’s territory, and therefore nothing less was to be expected than an hostile attack. But, nevertheless, he desisted not from his purpose through fear of intestine danger, until the Welsh appeased the commotion of the royal spirit, by giving the sons of their nobility as hostages, together with some money, and much of their substance.

By dint of gold, too, he brought the inhabitants of Brittany to his views, whom, when a young man, he had had as neighbours to his castles of Danfrunt and Mount St. Michael’s; for these are a race of people, poor at home, and seeking abroad to support a toilsome life by foreign service. Regardless of right and of affinity, they decline not even civil war, provided they are paid for it; and, in proportion to the remuneration, are ready to enter any service that may be offered. Aware of this custom, if, at any time he had need of stipendiary troops, he used to lavish money on these Bretons; thereby hiring the faith of a faithless nation.

In the beginning of his reign he offended Robert, earl of Flanders, from the following cause: Baldwin the Elder, the grandfather of this Robert, had powerfully assisted William, when going to England, by the wisdom of his councils, for which he was famed, and by a supply of soldiers. William had frequently made splendid returns for this; giving, every year, as they report, three hundred marks[475] of silver to his father-in-law, on account of his fidelity and affinity. This munificence was not diminished towards his son Baldwin; though it was dropped through the evil disposition of Robert Friso, as my history has already recorded. Moreover this Robert, the son of Friso, easily obtained the omitted largess from William the Second, because the one alleged his relationship, and the other possessed a boundless spirit in squandering money. But Henry giving the business deeper consideration, as a man who never desired to obtain money improperly, nor ever wantonly exhausted it when acquired, gave the following reply to Robert, on his return from Jerusalem, when imperiously making a demand, as it were, of three hundred marks of silver. He said, “that the kings of England were not accustomed to pay tribute to the Flemings; and that he would not tarnish the liberty of his ancestors by the stain of his cowardice; therefore, if he would trust to his generosity, he would willingly give him, as a kinsman and as a friend, whatever circumstances would permit; but if he thought proper to persist in his demand, he should refuse it altogether.” Confuted by this reasoning, he, for a long time, cherished his indignation against Henry; but getting little or nothing by his enmity, he bent his mind to milder measures; having discovered that the king might be wrought upon by intreaty, but not by imperious insolence. But now, the change of times had given his son, Baldwin, matter of offence against Henry; for, wishing to place William,[476] the son of Robert the Norman, in his inheritance, he voluntarily busied himself in the affairs of others, and frequently made unexpected attacks upon the king’s castles in Normandy. He threatened extreme trouble to the country, had the fates permitted; but engaging at Arques with a larger party of soldiers than he had apprehended, he accelerated his death; for his helmet being battered with repeated strokes, he received an injury in his brain. They relate, that his disorder was increased from having that day eaten garlic with goose, and that he did not even abstain from carnal intercourse at night. Here let posterity contemplate a noble specimen of royal attention; for the king sent a most skilful physician to the patient, bewailing, as we may believe, that person’s perishing by disease, whom, through admiration of his valour, he had rather seen survive. Charles, his successor, never annoyed the king; and first, with a doubtful, but afterwards, a formal treaty, embraced his friendship.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1119.] PHILIP, KING OF FRANCE.]

Philip, king of France, was neither friendly nor hostile to our king, being more intent on gluttony than business; neither were his dominions situated in the vicinity of Henry’s castles; for the few which he possessed at that time in Normandy were nearer to Brittany than France. Besides, as I have said before, Philip growing in years was oppressed by lust; and, allured by the beauty of the countess of Anjou, was enslaved to illicit passion for her. In consequence of his being excommunicated by the pope, no divine service could be celebrated in the town where he resided; but on his departure the chiming of the bells resounded on all sides, at which he expressed his stupid folly by laughter, saying, “You hear, my fair, how they drive us away.”[477] He was held in such contempt by all the bishops of his kingdom, that no one, except William,[478] archbishop of Rouen, would marry them: the rashness of which deed he atoned for by being many years interdicted, and was with difficulty, at last, restored to apostolical communion by archbishop Anselm. In the meanwhile, no space of time could give satiety to Philip’s mad excess, except that, in his last days, being seized with sickness, he took the monastic habit at Flory.[479] She acted with better grace and better success; as she sought the veil of a nun at Fontevrault, while yet possessed of strength and health, and undiminished beauty. Soon after she bade adieu to the present life: God, perhaps, foreseeing that the frame of a delicate woman could not endure the austerities of a monastery.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1119.] LEWIS, KING OF FRANCE.]

Lewis, the son of Philip, was very changeable; firmly attached to neither party. At first, extremely indignant against Robert, he instigated Henry to seize Normandy; seduced by what had been plundered from the English, and the vast wealth of the king. Not indeed, that the one offered it, but the other invited him; exhorting him, of his own accord, not to suffer the nerves of that once most flourishing country, to be crippled by his forbearance. But an enmity afterwards arose between them, on account of Theobald, earl of Blois, son of Stephen who fell at Ramula; Theobald being the son of Stephen by Adala, daughter of William the Great. For a considerable time, messengers on the part of the king wasted their labour, entreating that Lewis would condescend to satisfy Theobald. But he, paying little regard to entreaties, caused Theobald to be excommunicated by the pope, as arrogant and a rebel to God; who, in addition to the austerity of his manners, which seemed intolerable to all, was represented as depriving his lord of his hereditary possessions. Their quarrel being thus of long continuance, when, each swollen with pride, neither would vail his consequence to the other, Lewis entered Normandy, proudly devastating every thing with overbearing violence. These things were reported to the king, who shut himself up in Rouen until the common soldiers infested his ears, by saying, “That he ought to allow Lewis to be driven back; a man who formerly kept his bed through corpulency, but was now, by Henry’s forbearance, loading the very air with threats.” The king, mindful of his father’s example, rather preferred crushing the folly of the Frenchman by endurance, than repelling it by force. Moreover, he kindly soothed his soldiers, by addressing them to the following effect, “That they ought not to wonder if he avoided lavishing the blood of those whom he had proved to be faithful by repeated trials: that it would be impious, in achieving power to himself, to glory in the deaths of those persons who had devoted their lives to voluntary conflicts for his safety; that they were the adopted of his kingdom, the foster-children of his affection; wherefore he was anxious to follow the example of a good king, and by his own moderation to check the impetuosity of those whom he saw so ready to die for him.” At last, when he beheld his forbearance wrongly interpreted, and denominated cowardice, insomuch that Lewis burnt and plundered within four miles of Rouen; he called up the powers of his soul with greater effort, and, arraying his troops, gloriously conquered: compensating his past forbearance by a sanguinary victory. But, however, soon afterwards, peace was concluded, “Because there is a change in all things, and money, which is capable of persuading what it lists, extenuates every injury.” In consequence William, the son of our king, did homage to the king of France for Normandy, holding that province, in future, by legal right from him. This was the period when the same youth married the daughter of Fulco, earl of Anjou, and obtained, by the careful management of his father, that, through the mediation of money and of affinity, no tumults should affect the son.

At this time, pope Calixtus,[480] of whom I shall relate much hereafter, approached the confines of Normandy, where the king of England, entering into conference with him, compelled the Romans to admire and proclaim the ingenuity of the Normans. For he had come, as was reported, ill-disposed towards Henry; intending severely to expostulate with him, for keeping his brother, the pilgrim of the Holy Sepulchre, in confinement. But being pressed by the king’s answer, which was specious, and by his plausible arguments, he had little to reply. For even common topics may avail, through eloquence of speech; and, more especially, that oratory cannot be despised, which is seasoned with valuable presents. And that nothing might be wanting to the aggregate of glory, he provided some youths of noble family, the sons of the earl of Mellent, to dispute with the cardinals in logic. To whose inextricable sophisms, when, from the liveliness of their arguments, they could make no resistance, the cardinals were not ashamed to confess, that the Western climes flourished with greater literary eminence, than they had ever heard of, or imagined, while yet in their own country. Wherefore, the issue of this conference, was, that the pope declared, that nothing could be more just than the king of England’s cause; nothing more conspicuous than his prudence, or more copious than his eloquence.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1119.] ROBERT, EARL OF MELLENT.]

The father of these youths was Robert, earl of Mellent, as I observed, the son of Roger de Beaumont, who built the monastery of Preaux in Normandy; a man of primitive simplicity and sincerity, who, being frequently invited by William the First, to come to England, and receive, as a recompence, whatever possessions he chose, always declined; saying, that he wished to cultivate the inheritance of his forefathers, rather than covet or invade foreign possessions which did not belong to him. He had two sons, Robert, of whom we are speaking, and Henry. Henry earl of Warwick, a man of sweet and placid disposition, passed and ended his days, in occupations congenial to his habits. The other, more shrewd, and of a subtler character, in addition to his paternal inheritance in Normandy and large estates in England, purchased from the king of France a castle called Mellent, which Hugh the son of Gualeraun, his mother’s brother, had held. Conducted gradually by budding hope towards fame in the time of the former kings, he attained to its full bloom in Henry’s days; and his advice was regarded as though the oracle of God had been consulted: indeed he was deservedly esteemed to have obtained it, as he was of ripe age to counsel; the persuader of peace, the dissuader of strife, and capable of very speedily bringing about whatever he desired, from the powers of his eloquence. He possessed such mighty influence in England, as to change by his single example the long established modes of dress and of diet. Finally, the custom of one meal a day, is observed[481] in the palaces of all the nobility through his means; which he, adopting from Alexius, emperor of Constantinople, on the score of his health, spread, as I have observed, among the rest by his authority. He is blamed, as having done, and taught others to do this, more through want of liberality, than any fear of surfeit, or indigestion; but undeservedly: since no one, it is said, was more lavish in entertainments to others, or more moderate in himself. In law, he was the supporter of justice; in war, the insurer of victory: urging his lord the king to enforce the rigour of the statutes; himself not only following the existing, but proposing new ones: free himself from treachery towards the king, he was the avenger of it in others.[482]

Besides this personage king Henry had among his counsellors, Roger[483] bishop of Salisbury, on whose advice he principally relied. For, before his accession, he had made him regulator of his household, and on becoming king, having had proof of his abilities, appointed him first chancellor and then a bishop. The able discharge of his episcopal functions led to a hope that he might be deserving of a higher office. He therefore committed to his care the administration of the whole kingdom, whether he might be himself resident in England or absent in Normandy. The bishop refused to embroil himself in cares of such magnitude, until the three archbishops of Canterbury, Anselm, Ralph, William, and lastly the pope, enjoined him the duty of obedience. Henry was extremely eager to effect this, aware that Roger would faithfully perform every thing for his advantage. Nor did he deceive the royal expectation; but conducted himself with so much integrity and diligence, that not a spark of envy was kindled against him. Moreover, the king was frequently detained in Normandy, sometimes for three, sometimes four years, and sometimes for a longer period; and on his return to his kingdom, he gave credit to the chancellor’s discretion for finding little or nothing to distress him. Amid all these affairs, he did not neglect his ecclesiastical duties, but daily diligently transacted them in the morning, that he might be more ready and undisturbed for other business. He was a prelate of a great mind, and spared no expense towards completing his designs, especially in buildings, which may be seen in other places, but more particularly at Salisbury and at Malmesbury. For there he erected extensive edifices, at vast cost, and with surpassing beauty; the courses of stone being so correctly laid that the joint deceives the eye, and leads it to imagine that the whole wall is composed of a single block. He built anew the church of Salisbury, and beautified it in such a manner that it yields to none in England, but surpasses many, so that he had just cause to say, “Lord, I have loved the glory of thy house.”

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1119.] MURCARD, KING OF IRELAND.]

Murcard, king of Ireland, and his successors, whose names have not reached our notice, were so devotedly attached to our Henry that they wrote no letters but what tended to soothe him, and did nothing but what he commanded; although it may be observed that Murcard, from some unknown cause, acted, for a short time, rather superciliously towards the English; but soon after on the suspension of navigation and of foreign trade, his insolence subsided. For of what value could Ireland be if deprived of the merchandize of England? From poverty, or rather from the ignorance of the cultivators, the soil, unproductive of every good, engenders, without the cities, a rustic, filthy swarm of natives; but the English and French inhabit the cities in a greater degree of civilization through their mercantile traffic. Paul, earl of Orkney, though subject by hereditary right to the king of Norway, was so anxious to obtain the king’s friendship, that he was perpetually sending him presents; for he was extremely fond of the wonders of distant countries, begging with great delight, as I have observed, from foreign kings, lions, leopards, lynxes, or camels,--animals which England does not produce. He had a park called Woodstock, in which he used to foster his favourites of this kind. He had placed there also a creature called a porcupine, sent to him by William of Montpelier; of which animal, Pliny the Elder, in the eighth book of his Natural History, and Isodorus, on Etymologies, relate that there is such a creature in Africa, which the inhabitants call of the urchin kind, covered with bristly hairs, which it naturally darts against the dogs when pursuing it: moreover, these are, as I have seen, more than a span long, sharp at each extremity, like the quills of a goose where the feather ceases, but rather thicker, and speckled, as it were, with black and white.

What more particularly distinguished Henry was that though frequently and long absent from his kingdom on account of the commotions in Normandy, yet he so restrained the rebellious, by the terror of his name, that peace remained undisturbed in England. In consequence, foreigners willingly resorted thither, as to the only haven of secure tranquillity. Finally, Siward king of Norway, in his early years comparable to the bravest heroes, having entered on a voyage to Jerusalem, and asking the king’s permission, wintered in England. After expending vast sums upon the churches, as soon as the western breeze opened the gates of spring to soothe the ocean, he regained his vessels, and proceeding to sea, terrified the Balearic Isles, which are called Majorca and Minorca, by his arms, leaving them an easier conquest to the before-mentioned William of Montpelier. He thence proceeded to Jerusalem with all his ships in safety except one; she, while delaying to loose her cable from shore, was sucked into a tremendous whirlpool, which Paul[484] the historian of Lombardy describes as lying between the coasts of the Seine and Aquitaine, with such a force of water that its dashing may be heard at thirty miles’ distance. Arriving at Jerusalem he, for the advancement of the Christian cause, laid siege to, battered, and subdued the maritime cities of Tyre and Sidon. Changing his route, and entering Constantinople, he fixed a ship, beaked with golden dragons, as a trophy, on the church of Sancta Sophia. His men dying in numbers in this city, he discovered a remedy for the disorder, by making the survivors drink wine more sparingly, and diluted with water; and this with singular sagacity; for pouring wine on the liver of a hog, and finding that it presently dissolved by the acridity of the liquor, he immediately conjectured that the same effect took place in men, and afterwards dissecting a dead body, he had ocular proof of it. Wherefore the emperor contemplating his sagacity and courage, which promised something great, was inclined to detain him. But he adroitly deluded the expectation in which he was already devouring the Norwegian gold; for, obtaining permission to go to a neighbouring city, he deposited with him the chests of his treasures, filled with lead and sealed up, as pledges of a very speedy return; by which contrivance the emperor was deceived, and the other returned home by land.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1119.] CHARACTER OF HENRY I.]

But my narrative must now return to Henry. He was active in providing what would be beneficial to his empire;[485] firm in defending it; abstinent from war, as far as he could with honour; but when he had determined no longer to forbear, a most severe requiter of injuries, dissipating every opposing danger by the energy of his courage; constant in enmity or in affection towards all; giving too much indulgence to the tide of anger in the one, gratifying his royal magnanimity in the other; depressing his enemies indeed even to despair, and exalting his friends and dependants to an enviable condition. For philosophy propounds this to be the first or greatest concern of a good king,

“To spare the suppliant, but depress the proud.”[486]

Inflexible in the administration of justice, he ruled the people with moderation; the nobility with condescension. Seeking after robbers and counterfeiters with the greatest diligence, and punishing them when discovered; neither was he by any means negligent in matters of lesser importance. When he heard that the tradesmen refused broken money,[487] though of good silver, he commanded the whole of it to be broken, or cut in pieces. The measure of his own arm was applied to correct the false ell of the traders, and enjoined on all throughout England. He made a regulation for the followers of his court, at whichever of his possessions he might be resident, stating what they should accept without payment from the country-folks; and how much, and at what price, they should purchase; punishing the transgressors by a heavy pecuniary fine, or loss of life. In the beginning of his reign, that he might awe the delinquents by the terror of example, he was more inclined to punish by deprivation of limb; afterwards by mulct. Thus, in consequence of the rectitude of his conduct, as is natural to man, he was venerated by the nobility, and beloved by the common people. If at any time the better sort, regardless of their plighted oath, wandered from the path of fidelity, he immediately recalled them to the straight road by the wisdom of his plans, and his unceasing exertions; bringing back the refractory to soundness of mind by the wounds he inflicted on their bodies. Nor can I easily describe what perpetual labour he employed on such persons, while suffering nothing to go unpunished which the delinquents had committed repugnant to his dignity. Normandy, as I have said before, was the chief source of his wars, in which, though principally resident, yet he took especial care for England; none daring to rebel, from the consideration of his courage and of his prudence. Nor, indeed, was he ever singled out for the attack of treachery, by reason of the rebellion of any of his nobles, through means of his attendants, except once; the author of which was a certain chamberlain, born of a plebeian father, but of distinguished consequence, as being keeper of the king’s treasures; but, detected, and readily confessing his crime, he paid the severe penalty of his perfidy.[488] With this exception, secure during his whole life, the minds of all were restrained by fear, their conversation by regard for him.

He was of middle stature, exceeding the diminutive, but exceeded by the very tall: his hair was black, but scanty near the forehead; his eyes mildly bright; his chest brawny; his body fleshy: he was facetious in proper season, nor did multiplicity of business cause him to be less pleasant when he mixed in society. Not prone to personal combat, he verified the saying of Scipio Africanus, “My mother bore me a commander, not a soldier;” wherefore he was inferior in wisdom to no king of modern time; and, as I may almost say, he clearly surpassed all his predecessors in England, and preferred contending by counsel, rather than by the sword. If he could, he conquered without bloodshed; if it was unavoidable, with as little as possible. He was free, during his whole life, from impure desires;[489] for, as we have learned from those who were well informed, he was led by female blandishments, not for the gratification of incontinency, but for the sake of issue; nor condescended to casual intercourse, unless where it might produce that effect; in this respect the master of his natural inclinations, not the passive slave of lust. He was plain in his diet, rather satisfying the calls of hunger, than surfeiting himself by variety of delicacies. He never drank but to allay thirst; execrating the least departure from temperance, both in himself and in those about him. He was heavy to sleep, which was interrupted by frequent snoring. His eloquence was rather unpremeditated than laboured; not rapid, but deliberate.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1119.] PIETY OF HENRY I.]

His piety towards God was laudable, for he built monasteries in England and in Normandy: but as he has not yet completed them, I, in the meantime, should suspend my judgment, did not my affection for the brotherhood at Reading forbid my silence. He built this monastery between the rivers Kennet and Thames, in a place calculated for the reception of almost all who might have occasion to travel to the more populous cities of England, where he placed monks of the Clugniac order, who are at this day a noble pattern of holiness, and an example of unwearied and delightful hospitality. Here may be seen what is peculiar to this place: for guests arriving every hour, consume more than the inmates themselves. Perhaps, some person may call me over-hasty and a flatterer, for so signally celebrating a congregation yet in its infancy; unconscious what future times may produce: but they, as I hope, will endeavour, by the grace of God, to continue in virtue; and I blush not at commending men of holiness, and admiring that excellence in others which I possess not myself. He yielded up the investiture[490] of the churches to God and St. Peter, after much controversy between him and archbishop Anselm, scarcely induced, even at last, to consent, through the manifold grace of God, by an inglorious victory over his brother. The tenor of these disputes Edmer has recorded at great length; I, to give a completer knowledge of the matter, shall subjoin the letters of the so-often-mentioned pope Paschal on the subject.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1119.] PASCHAL ON INVESTITURES.]

“Paschal the bishop to king Henry, health. From your letters, lately transmitted to us by your servant, our beloved son, William the clerk, we have been certified both of the safety of your person, and of those prosperous successes which the divine favour hath granted you in the subjugation of the adversaries of your kingdom. We have heard too, that you have had the male issue you so much desired, by your noble and religious consort. As we have derived pleasure from this, we think it a good opportunity to impress the commands and will of God more strongly upon you, at a time when you perceive yourself indebted to his kindness for such ample favours. We also are desirous of associating our kindness with the benefits of God towards you; but it is distressing, that you should seem to require what we cannot possibly grant. For if we consent, or suffer, that investitures be conferred by your excellence, no doubt it will be to the great detriment both of ourselves, and of you. In this matter we wish you to consider, what you lose by not performing, or gain by performing. For we, by such a prohibition, obtain no increase of influence, or patronage, over the churches; nor do we endeavour to take away any thing from your just power and right; but only that God’s anger may be diminished towards you, and thus every prosperity attend you. God, indeed, hath said, ‘Those that honour me, I will honour; and those that despise me, shall be lightly esteemed.’ You will say then, ‘It is my right;’ no truly, it is neither an imperial nor royal, but a divine right; it is His only, who has said, ‘I am the door:’ wherefore I entreat for his sake, whose due it is, that you would restore and concede it to him, to whose love you owe what you possess. But why should we oppose your pleasure, or run counter to your good will, unless we were aware, that in consenting to this matter, we should oppose the will of God, and lose his favour? Why should we deny you any thing, which might be granted to any man living, when we should receive greater favours in return? Consider, my dearest son, whether it be an honour, or a disgrace that Anselm, the wisest, and most religious of the Gallican bishops, on this account, fears to be familiar with you, or to continue in your kingdom. What will those persons think, who have hitherto had such favourable accounts of you? What will they say, when this gets noised abroad? The very people who, before your face, commend your excess, will, when out of your presence, be the first more loudly to vilify the transaction. Return then to your understanding, my dearest son, we entreat you, for the mercy of God, and the love of his Only-begotten Son: recall your pastor, recall your father; and if, what we do not imagine, he hath in anything conducted himself harshly towards you, and hath opposed the investitures, we will mediate according to your pleasure, as far as God permits: but nevertheless, remove from your person and your kingdom the infamy of such an expulsion. If you do this, even although you should ask very difficult matters of us; still if, with God’s permission, we can grant, you shall certainly obtain, them: and we will be careful to entreat the Lord for you, himself assisting, and will grant indulgence and absolution, as well to your sins, as to those of your consort, through the merits of the holy apostles. Moreover, we will, together with you, cherish the son whom you have begotten on your exemplary and noble consort; and who is, as we have heard, named after your excellent father, William, with such anxious care, that whosoever shall injure either you, or him, shall be regarded as having done injury to the church of Rome. Dated at the palace of Lateran, the ninth before the kalends of December.”

“Paschal to Anselm. We have received those most gratifying letters of your affection, written with the pen of charity. In these we recognise the fervency of your devotion, and considering the strength of your faith, and the earnestness of your pious care, we rejoice; because, by the grace of God, neither promises elevate, nor threats depress you. We lament, however, that after having kindly received our brother bishops, the ambassadors of the king of England, they should, on their return home, report what we never uttered, or even thought of. For, we have heard, that they said, if the king conducted himself well in other respects, we should neither prohibit the investiture of the churches, nor anathematize them, when conferred; but that we were unwilling thus to write, lest from this precedent other princes should exclaim. Wherefore we call Jesus, who trieth the hearts and reins, as witness to our soul, if ever such a horrid crime, even entered our imagination, since we assumed the care of this holy see.” And again below. “If, therefore, a lay hand present the staff, the sign of the shepherd’s office, or the ring, the emblem of faith, what have the bishops to do in the church? Moreover, those bishops who have changed the truth into a lie, that truth, which is God, being the criterion, we separate from the favour of St. Peter and our society, until they have made satisfaction to the church of Rome. Such, therefore, as have received the investiture,[491] or consecration, during the aforesaid truce,[492] we regard as aliens to our communion and to the church.”

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1119.] LETTER OF POPE PASCHAL.]

“Paschal to Anselm. Since the condescension of Almighty God hath inclined the heart of the king of England to obedience to the papal see, we give thanks to the same God of mercies, in whose hand are situated the hearts of kings. We believe it indeed to have been effected through favour to your charity, and the earnestness of your prayers, that in this respect the heavenly mercy hath regarded the people over whom your watchfulness presides. But whereas we so greatly condescend to the king and those who seem culpable, you must know that this has been done from kindness and compassion, that we may lift up those that are down. And you, also, reverend and dearest brother in Christ, we release from the prohibition or, as you conceive, excommunication, which, you understand, was denounced against investitures or homage by our predecessor of holy memory pope Urban. But do you, by the assistance of God, accept those persons who either receive investitures, or consecrate such as have received them, or do homage on making that satisfaction which we signify to you by our common legates William and Baldwin, faithful and true men, and absolve them by virtue of our authority. These you will either consecrate yourself, or command to be consecrated by such as you choose; unless perchance you should discover somewhat in them on account of which they ought to be deprived of their sacred honours. And if any, hereafter, in addition to the investitures of the churches, shall have accepted prelacies, even though they have done homage to the king, yet let them not, on this account, be denied the office of consecration, until by the grace of Almighty God, the heart of the king may be softened, by the dew of your preaching, to omit this. Moreover, against the bishops who have brought, as you know, a false report from us, our heart is more vehemently moved, because they have not only injured us, but have led astray the minds of many simple people, and impelled the king to want of charity for the papal see. Wherefore, by the help of God, we suffer not their crime to pass unpunished: but since the earnestness of our son the king unceasingly entreats for them, you will not deny, even them, the participation of your communion. Indeed, you will, according to our promise, absolve from their transgressions and from penance the king and his consort, and those nobles who for this business, together with the king, have by our command been under sentence, whose names you will learn from the information of the aforesaid William. We commit the cause of the bishop of Rouen to your consideration, and we grant to him whatsoever you may allow.”

In this manner acted Paschal the supreme pope, anxious for the liberty of the churches of God. The bishops whom he accuses of falsehood, were Girard archbishop of York, and Herbert of Norwich, whose errors were discovered by the more veracious legates, William afterwards bishop of Exeter, and Baldwin monk of Bec. Anselm[493] the archbishop was now again, in the time of this king, an exile at Lyons, resident with Hugh, archbishop of that city, when the first letter which I have inserted was despatched; for he himself possessed no desire to return, nor did the king, through the multitude of sycophants, suffer his animosity to be appeased. He deferred, therefore, for a long time, recalling him or complying with the papal admonition; not from desire of power, but through the advice of the nobility, and particularly of the earl of Mellent, who, in this affair, running counter to reason more from ancient custom than a sense of right, alleged that the king’s majesty must be much diminished if, disregarding the usage of his predecessors, he ceased to invest the elected person with the staff and ring. The king, however, considering more attentively what the clear reasoning of the epistles, and the bountiful gift of divine favours, plentifully showered down upon him, admonished, yielded up the investiture of the ring and staff for ever, retaining only the privilege of election and of the temporalities. A great council, therefore, of bishops, nobles, and abbats, being assembled at London, many points of ecclesiastical and secular business were settled, many differences adjusted. And not long after, five bishops were ordained in Kent, on the same day, by archbishop Anselm: William to the see of Winchester; Roger to Salisbury; William to Exeter; Reinald to Hereford; Urban to Glamorgan. In this manner a controversy, agitated by perpetual dissensions, and the cause of many a journey to and from Rome by Anselm, met with a commendable termination.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1107.] ACCOUNT OF QUEEN MATILDA.]

Henry’s queen, Matilda, descended from an ancient and illustrious race of kings, daughter of the king of Scotland, as I have said before, had also given her attention to literature, being educated, from her infancy, among the nuns at Wilton and Romsey. Wherefore, in order to have a colour for refusing an ignoble alliance, which was more than once offered by her father, she wore the garb indicative of the holy profession. This, when the king was about to advance her to his bed, became matter of controversy; nor could the archbishop be induced to consent to her marriage, but by the production of lawful witnesses, who swore that she had worn the veil on account of her suitors, but had never made her vow. Satisfied with a child of either sex, she ceased having issue, and enduring with complacency, when the king was elsewhere employed, the absence of the court, she continued many years at Westminster; yet was no part of royal magnificence wanting to her; but at all times crowds of visitants and talebearers were, in endless multitudes, entering and departing from her superb dwelling; for this the king’s liberality commanded; this her own kindness and affability attracted. She was singularly holy; by no means despicable in point of beauty; a rival of her mother’s piety; never committing any impropriety, as far as herself was concerned; and, with the exception of the king’s bed, completely chaste and uncontaminated even by suspicion. Clad in hair cloth beneath her royal habit, in Lent, she trod the thresholds of the churches barefoot. Nor was she disgusted at washing the feet of the diseased; handling their ulcers dripping with corruption, and, finally, pressing their hands, for a long time together to her lips, and decking their table. She had a singular pleasure in hearing the service of God; and on this account was thoughtlessly prodigal towards clerks of melodious voice; addressed them kindly, gave to them liberally, and promised still more abundantly. Her generosity becoming universally known, crowds of scholars, equally famed for verse and for singing, came over; and happy did he account himself who could soothe the ears of the queen by the novelty of his song. Nor on these only did she lavish money, but on all sorts of men, especially foreigners, that through her presents they might proclaim her celebrity abroad; for the desire of fame is so rooted in the human mind, that scarcely is any one contented with the precious fruits of a good conscience, but is fondly anxious, if he does any thing laudable, to have it generally known. Hence, it was justly observed, the disposition crept upon the queen to reward all the foreigners she could, while the others were kept in suspense, sometimes with effectual, but oftener with empty promises. Hence, too, it arose that she fell into the error of prodigal givers; bringing many claims on her tenantry, exposing them to injuries, and taking away their property; by which obtaining the credit of a liberal benefactress, she little regarded their sarcasms. But whoso shall judge rightly, will impute this to the designs of her servants, who, harpy-like, conveyed everything they could gripe into their purses or wasted it in riotous living. Her ears being infected with the base insinuations of these people, she induced this stain on her noble mind, holy and meritorious in every other respect. Amid these concerns she was snatched away from her country, to the great loss of the people, but to her own advantage; for her funeral being splendidly celebrated at Westminster, she entered into rest; and her spirit manifested, by no trivial indications, that she was a resident in heaven. She died, willingly leaving the throne, after a reign of seventeen years and six months, experiencing the fate of her family, who almost all departed in the flower of their age. To her, but not immediately, succeeded Adala,[494] daughter of the duke of Louvain, which is the principal town of Lorraine.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1116.] PRINCE WILLIAM DROWNED.]

By Matilda king Henry had a son named William, educated and destined to the succession,[495] with the fondest hope, and surpassing care. For to him, when scarcely twelve years of age, all the free men of England and Normandy, of every rank and condition, and under fealty to whatever lord, were obliged to submit themselves by homage, and by oath. When a boy, too, he was betrothed to and received in wedlock, the daughter of Fulco[496] earl of Anjou, who was herself scarcely marriageable; his father-in-law bestowing on him the county of Maine as her dower. Moreover, Fulco, proceeding to Jerusalem, committed his earldom to the king, to be restored, should he return, but otherwise, to go to his son-in-law. Many provinces, then, looked forward to the government of this boy: for it was supposed that the prediction of king Edward would be verified in him; and it was said, that now might it be expected, that the hopes of England, like the tree[497] cut down, would, through this youth, again blossom and bring forth fruit, and thus put an end to her sufferings: but God saw otherwise; for this illusion vanished into air, as an early day was hastening him to his fate. Indeed, by the exertions of his father-in-law, and of Theobald the son of Stephen, and of his aunt Adala, Lewis king of France conceded the legal possession of Normandy to the lad, on his doing him homage. The prudence of his truly careful father so arranged and contrived, that the homage, which he, from the extent of his empire, disdained to perform, should not be refused by his son, a youth of delicate habit, and not very likely to live. In discussing and peaceably settling these matters, the king spent the space of four years; continuing the whole of that time in Normandy. Nevertheless, the calm of this brilliant, and carefully concerted peace, this anxious, universal hope, was destroyed in an instant by the vicissitudes of human estate. For, giving orders for returning to England, the king set sail from Barfleur just before twilight on the seventh before the kalends of December; and the breeze which filled his sails conducted him safely to his kingdom and extensive fortunes. But the young man, who was now somewhat more than seventeen years of age, and, by his father’s indulgence, possessed everything but the name of king, commanded another vessel to be prepared for himself; almost all the young nobility flocking around him, from similarity of youthful pursuits. The sailors, too, immoderately filled with wine, with that seaman’s hilarity which their cups excited, exclaimed, that those who were now a-head must soon be left astern; for the ship was of the best construction, and recently fitted with new materials. When, therefore, it was now dark night, these imprudent youths, overwhelmed with liquor, launched the vessel from the shore. She flies swifter than the winged arrow, sweeping the rippling surface of the deep: but the carelessness of the intoxicated crew drove her on a rock, which rose above the waves not far from shore. In the greatest consternation, they immediately ran on deck, and with loud outcry got ready their boat-hooks, endeavouring, for a considerable time, to force the vessel off: but fortune resisted and frustrated every exertion. The oars, too, dashing, horribly crashed against the rock,[498] and her battered prow hung immoveably fixed. Now, too, the water washed some of the crew overboard, and, entering the chinks, drowned others; when the boat having been launched, the young prince was received into it, and might certainly have been saved by reaching the shore, had not his illegitimate sister, the countess of Perche, now struggling with death in the larger vessel, implored her brother’s assistance; shrieking out that he should not abandon her so barbarously. Touched with pity, he ordered the boat to return to the ship, that he might rescue his sister; and thus the unhappy youth met his death through excess of affection: for the skiff, overcharged by the multitudes who leaped into her, sank, and buried all indiscriminately in the deep. One rustic[499] alone escaped; who, floating all night upon the mast, related in the morning, the dismal catastrophe of this tragedy. No ship was ever productive of so much misery to England; none ever so widely celebrated throughout the world. Here also perished with William, Richard, another of the king’s sons, whom a woman of no rank had borne him, before his accession; a youth of intrepidity, and dear to his father from his obedience: Richard earl of Chester, and his brother Otuell, the tutor and preceptor of the king’s son: the countess of Perche, the king’s daughter, and his niece the countess of Chester, sister to Theobald: and indeed almost every person of consequence about court, whether knight, or chaplain, or young nobleman, training up to arms. For, as I have said, they eagerly hastened from all quarters, expecting no small addition to their reputation, if they could either amuse, or show their devotion to the young prince. The calamity was augmented by the difficulty of finding the bodies, which could not be discovered by the various persons who sought them along the shore; but delicate as they were, they became food for the monsters of the deep. The death of this youth being known, produced a wonderful change in existing circumstances. His father renounced the celibacy he had cherished since Matilda’s death, anxious for future heirs by a new consort: his father-in-law, returning home from Jerusalem, faithfully espoused the party of William, the son of Robert earl of Normandy, giving him his other daughter[500] in marriage, and the county of Maine; his indignation being excited against the king, by his daughter’s dowry being detained in England after the death of the prince.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1120.] PRINCESS MATILDA.]

His daughter Matilda, by Matilda, king Henry gave in marriage to Henry emperor of Germany,[501] son of that Henry mentioned in the third book. Henry was the fifth emperor of the Germans of this name; who, although he had been extremely incensed at his father for his outrages against the holy see, yet, in his own time, was the rigid follower of, and stickler for, the same sentiments. For when Paschal, a man possessed of every virtue, had succeeded pope Urban, the question again arose concerning the investiture of the churches, together with all the former contentions and animosities: as neither party would give way. The emperor had in his favour all the bishops and abbats of his kingdoms situated on this side of the mountains; because Charles the Great, to keep in check the ferocity of those nations, had conferred almost all the country on the churches: most wisely considering, that the clergy would not so soon cast off their fidelity to their lord as the laity; and, besides, if the laity were to rebel, they might be restrained by the authority of their excommunication, and the weight of their power. The pope had brought over to his side the churches beyond the mountains, and the cities of Italy scarcely acknowledged the dominion of Henry; thinking themselves exonerated from servitude after the death of his brother Conrad, who, being left by his father as king of Lombardy, had died at Arezzo. But Henry, rivalling the ancient Cæsars in every noble quality, after tranquillizing his German empire, extended his thoughts to his Italian kingdom: purposing to quell the revolt of the cities, and decide the question of investitures, according to his own pleasure. This progress to Rome, accomplished by great exertion of mind, and much painful labour of body, hath been described by David, bishop of Bangor, a Scot; though far more partially to the king than becomes an historian. Indeed he commends highly even his unheard-of violence in taking the pope captive, though he held him in free custody; citing the example of Jacob’s holding the angel fast till he extorted a blessing. Moreover, he labours to establish, that the saying of the apostle, “No servant of God embroils himself in worldly business,” is not repugnant to the desires of those bishops, who are invested by the laity, because the doing homage to a layman, by a clergyman, is not a secular business. How frivolous such arguments are, any person’s consideration may decide. In the meantime, that I may not seem to bear hard on a good man by my judgment, I determine to make allowances for him, since he has not written a history, but a panegyric. I will now therefore faithfully insert the grant and agreement extorted from the pope, by a forcible detention of three weeks; and I shall subjoin, in what manner they were soon after made of none effect, by a holier council.

“The sovereign pope Paschal will not molest the sovereign king, nor his empire nor kingdom, on account of the investiture of bishoprics and abbeys, nor concerning the injury suffered by himself and his party in person and in goods; nor will he return evil to him, or any other person, on this account; neither, on any consideration, will he publish an anathema against the person of king Henry; nor will the sovereign pope delay to crown him, according to the ritual; and he will assist him, as far as possible, by the aid of his office, to retain his kingdom and empire. And this the sovereign pope will fulfil without fraud or evil design.” These are the names of the bishops and cardinals who, at the command of the sovereign pope Paschal, confirmed by oath the grant to, and friendship with, the sovereign emperor Henry: Peter, bishop of Porto; Censius, bishop of Sabina; Robert, cardinal of St. Eusebius; Boniface, cardinal of St. Mark; Anastasius, cardinal of St. Clement; Gregory, cardinal of the apostles Peter and Paul; also Gregory, cardinal of St. Chrysogonus; John, cardinal of St. Potentiana; Risus, cardinal of St. Lawrence; Remerus, cardinal of Saints Marcellinus and Peter; Vitalis, cardinal of St. Balbina; Teuzo, cardinal of St. Mark; Theobald, cardinal of John and Paul; John, deacon in the Greek School;[502] Leo, dean of St. Vitalis; Albo, dean of Sergius and Bacchius.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1119.] OATH OF HENRY V.]

The king also made oath as follows: “I, Henry, the king, will, on the fourth or fifth day of the ensuing week, set at liberty the sovereign pope, and the bishops and cardinals, and all the captives and hostages, who were taken for him or with him; and I will cause them to be conducted, safely, within the gates of the city, beyond the Tiber;[503] nor will I hereafter seize, or suffer to be seized, such as remain under fealty to the lord Paschal: and with the Roman people, and the city beyond the Tiber, I will, as well by myself as by my people, preserve peace and security, that is, to such persons as shall keep peace with me. I will faithfully assist the sovereign pope, in retaining his papacy quietly and securely. I will restore the patrimony and possessions of the Roman church which I have taken away; and I will aid him in recovering and keeping every thing which he ought to have, after the manner of his predecessors, with true faith, and without fraud or evil design: and I will obey the sovereign pope, saving the honour of my kingdom and empire, as Catholic emperors ought to obey Catholic Roman pontiffs.” And they who swore on the part of the king are these: Frederic, archbishop of Cologne; Godebard, bishop of Trent; Bruno, bishop of Spires; Berengar, earl; Albert, chancellor; Herman, earl; Frederic, count palatine; Boniface, marquis; Albert, earl of Blandriac; Frederic, earl; Godfrid, earl; Warner, marquis.

This treaty being settled and confirmed by the oath of the aforesaid bishops and cardinals, and mutual embraces exchanged, the sovereign pope, on Sunday, the fourth before the ides of April, celebrated the mass, “As though just born,” in which, after his own communion, and that of the ministers at the altar, he gave the body and blood of our Lord to the emperor with these words: “This body of the Lord, which the truly holy church retains, born of the Virgin Mary, exalted on the cross for the redemption of mankind, we give to thee, my dearest son, for the remission of thy sins, and for the preservation of the peace and true friendship to be confirmed between me and thee, the empire and the priesthood.” Again, on the next day, the pope and the king met at the columns[504] which are in the Forum, guards being stationed wherever it was deemed necessary, that the consecration of the king might not be impeded. And at the Silver[505] gate he was received by the bishops and cardinals, and all the Roman clergy; and the prayer being begun, as contained in the ritual, by the bishop of Ostia, as the bishop of Albano, by whom it ought to have been said, had he been present, was absent, he was conducted to the middle of the Rota,[506] and there received the second prayer from the bishop of Porto, as the Roman ritual enjoins. After this they led him, with litanies, to the confessionary of the Apostles,[507] and there the bishop of Ostia anointed him between the shoulders and on the right arm. This being done he was conducted, by the sovereign pontiff, to the altar of the aforesaid apostles, and there the crown being placed on his head by the pope himself, he was consecrated emperor. After putting on the crown, the mass of the Resurrection of the Lord was celebrated, in which, before the communion, the sovereign pope, with his own hand, gave to the emperor the grant, in which he conceded to him and his kingdom what is underwritten; and in the same place confirmed it by the sanction of a curse.

“Pope Paschal, servant of the servants of God, sendeth health and his apostolical benediction, to his dearest son in Christ, Henry Augustus, by the grace of Almighty God, emperor of the Romans. The Divine disposal hath ordained, that your kingdom shall unite with the holy Roman church, since your predecessors, through valour and surpassing prudence, have obtained the crown and sovereignty of the Roman city; to the dignity of which crown and empire, the Divine Majesty, by the ministry of our priesthood, hath advanced your person, my dearest son Henry. That pre-eminence of dignity, then, which our predecessors have granted to yours, the Catholic emperors, and have confirmed in the volume of grants, we also concede to your affection, and in the scroll of this present grant confirm also, that you may confer the investiture of the staff and ring on the bishops or abbats of your kingdom, freely elected, without violence or simony: but, after their investiture, let them receive canonical consecration from the bishop to whom it pertains. But if any person shall be elected, either by the clergy or the people, against your consent, unless he be invested by you, let him be consecrated by no one; excepting such, indeed, as are accustomed to be at the disposal of the archbishops, or of the Roman pontiff. Moreover, let the archbishops or bishops have permission, canonically, to consecrate bishops or abbats invested by you. Your predecessors, indeed, so largely endowed the churches of their kingdom of their royalties, that it is fitting that kingdom should be especially strengthened by the power of bishops or abbats; and that popular dissensions, which often happen in all elections, should be checked by royal majesty. Wherefore, your prudence and authority ought to take more especial care to preserve the grandeur of the Roman church, and the safety of the rest, through God’s assistance, by your gifts and services. Therefore, if any ecclesiastical or secular person, knowing this document of our concession, shall rashly dare oppose it, let him be bound with the chain of an anathema, unless he recant, and hazard his honour and dignity. But may God’s mercy preserve such as keep it, and may he grant your person and authority to reign happily to his honour and glory.”

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1111.] HENRY V CONSECRATED EMPEROR.]

The whole ceremony of the consecration being completed, the pope and the emperor, joining their right hands, went with much state to the chamber which fronts the confessionary of St. Gregory, that the pope might there put off his pontifical, and the emperor his regal vestments. As the emperor retired from the chamber divested of his royal insignia, the Roman patricians met him with a golden circle, which they placed upon his head, and by it gave him the supreme patriciate[508] of the Roman city, with common consent and universal approbation.

All this parade of grants and consecration I have taken literally from the narrative of the aforesaid David, written, as I said, with too great partiality towards the king. In the following year, however, a council was assembled at Rome, rather by the connivance than the command of the pope, and the grant was nullified. The authors of its reversal, were, the archbishop of Vienne, who afterwards ruled the papal see;[509] and Girard, bishop of Angouleme: who stimulated their brother bishops, to make these concessions of none effect. The proceedings of that council were as follow.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1112.] COUNCIL AT ROME.]

“A.D. 1112, the fifth of the indiction, in the thirteenth year of the sovereign pope Paschal the second, in the month of March, on the fifteenth before the kalends of April, a council was held at Rome, at the Lateran, in the church of Constantine;[510] where, when pope Paschal, together with the archbishops, bishops, and cardinals and a mixed company of clergy and laity, had, on the last day of the council, taken his seat; making public profession of the Catholic faith, lest any one should doubt his orthodoxy, he said, “I embrace all the Holy Scripture of the Old and New Testament; the Law written by Moses, and by the holy prophets: I embrace the four Gospels; the seven canonical Epistles, the Epistles of the glorious preacher St. Paul, the apostle, the holy canons of the apostles; the four Universal councils, as the four gospels, the Nicene, Ephesian, Constantinopolitan, Chalcedonian: moreover the council of Antioch and the decrees of the holy fathers, the Roman pontiffs; and more especially the decrees of my lords pope Gregory the seventh, and pope Urban of blessed memory. What they have approved, I approve: what they held, I hold: what they have confirmed, I confirm: what they have condemned, I condemn: what they have opposed, I oppose: what they have interdicted, I interdict: what they have prohibited, I prohibit: I will persevere in the same in every thing and through every thing.” This being ended, Girard, bishop of Angouleme, legate in Aquitaine, rose up for all, and by the unanimous consent of pope Paschal and of all the council, read the following writing. “That grant which is no grant, but ought more properly to be called an abomination,[511] for the liberation of captives and of the church, extorted from the sovereign pope Paschal by the violence of king Henry, the whole of us in this holy council assembled, with the sovereign pope, condemn by canonical censure, and ecclesiastical authority, by the judgment of the Holy Spirit; and we adjudge it to be void, and altogether nullify it: and that it may have neither force nor efficacy, we interdict it altogether. And it is condemned, on this account; because in that abomination it is asserted, that a person canonically elected by the clergy and the people, shall not be consecrated by any one, unless first invested by the king; which is contrary to the Holy Spirit and to canonical institution.” This writing being read, the whole council, and all present, unanimously cried out Amen, Amen: So be it, so be it.

The archbishops there present with their suffragans were these: John, patriarch of Venice: Semies of Capua: Landulf of Benevento: Amalfi, Reggio, Otranto, Brindisi, Capsa, Cerenza;[512] and the Greeks, Rosanus, and the archbishop of St. Severina; the bishops were, Censius of Sabina, Peter of Porto, Leo of Ostia, Cono of Prænesti, Girard of Angouleme, Galo of Leon, legate for Berri and the archbishop of Vienne, Roger of Volaterra, Gaufrid of Sienna, Rolland of Populonia, Gregory of Tarracina, William of Turin,[513] William of Syracuse, legate for all the Sicilians, and near a hundred other bishops. Siwin, and John bishop of Tusculum, though at Rome, were not present on that day of the council; but they afterwards, on the reading of the condemnation of the grant, assented and approved of it.

These things gaining publicity, all France made no scruple of considering the emperor as accursed by the power of ecclesiastical zeal hurled against him. Roused at this, in the seventeenth[514] year of pope Paschal, he proceeded to Rome, to inflict signal vengeance on him. But he, by a blessed departure,[515] had avoided all earthly molestation, and from his place of repose on high, laughed at the threats of the angry emperor; who having heard of his death, quickened his journey, in order that ejecting John Gaitan, chancellor to the late pope, who had been already elected and called Gelasius, he might intrude Maurice,[516] bishop of Brague, surnamed Bourdin, on the See: but the following epistle of Gelasius will explain the business more fully.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1119.] EPISTLE OF GELASIUS.]

“Gelasius, servant of the servants of God to the archbishops, bishops, abbats, clergy, princes, and other faithful people throughout Gaul, health. As you are members of the church of Rome, we are anxious to signify to your affection what has there lately taken place. Shortly after our election, then, the sovereign emperor coming by stealth and with unexpected haste to Rome, compelled us to depart the city. He afterwards demanded peace by threats and intimidation, saying he would do all he might be able, unless we assured him of peace by oath. To which we replied thus: Concerning the controversy which exists between the church and the empire, we willingly agree to a meeting or to legal discussion, at proper time and place; that is to say, either at Milan or Cremona, on the next feast of St. Luke, at the discretion of our brethren, who, by God, are constituted judges in the church, and without whom this cause cannot be agitated. And since the sovereign emperor demands security from us, we promise such to him, by word and by writing, unless in the interim himself shall violate it: for otherwise to give security is dishonourable to the church, and contrary to custom. He, immediately, on the forty-fourth day after our election, intruded into the bosom of the church, the bishop of Brague, who, the preceding year had been excommunicated by our predecessor pope Paschal, in a council at Benevento; and who had also, when he formerly received the pall from our hands, sworn fidelity to the same pontiff, and his catholic successors, of whom I am the first. In this prodigious crime, however, thanks to God, the sovereign emperor had no single Roman associate; only the Guibertines, Romanus of St. Marcellus, Censius, who was called of St. Chrysogon; Teuzo, who for a long time was guilty of many excesses in Dacia; these alone transacted so shameless a deed. We command your wisdom, therefore, on the receipt of these presents, that, deliberating on these matters in common, by the grace of God, you be prepared, by his help, to avenge the mother church, as you are aware ought to be done by your joint assistance. Done at Gaeta on the seventeenth before the kalends of February.”

Gelasius after his expulsion, embarking at Salerno, came thence to Genoa, and afterwards proceeded by land to Clugny, where he died.[517] Then, that is A.D. 1119, the cardinals who had accompanied him, together with the whole Cisalpine church, elevating with great pomp Guido, archbishop of Vienne, to the papacy, called him Calixtus; hoping, from the consideration of his piety and energy, that through his power, as he possessed great influence, they might be able to withstand the force of the emperor. Nor did he deceive their confidence: for soon after calling a council at Rheims, he separated from the churches such as had been, or should be, invested by the laity, including the emperor also, unless he should recant. Thus continuing for some time in the hither districts, to strengthen his party, and having settled all affairs in Gaul, he came to Rome, and was gladly received by the citizens, as the emperor had now departed. Bourdin then, deserted, fled to Sutri, determining to nurture his power by many a pilgrim’s loss; but how he was ejected thence, the following epistle explains.

“Calixtus, the bishop, servant of the servants of God, to his beloved brethren, and sons, the archbishops, bishops, abbats, priors, and other faithful servants of St. Peter, clergy as well as laity, situated throughout Gaul, health and apostolical benediction. As the people have forsaken the law of the Lord, and walk not in his judgments, God visits their iniquities with a rod, and their sins with stripes: but retaining the bowels of paternal love, he does not desert such as trust in his mercy. For a long time indeed, their sins so requiring, the faithful of the church have been disturbed by Bourdin, that idol of the king of Germany; nay, some have been taken captive, others afflicted, through want in prison, even unto death. Lately, however, after celebrating the festival of Easter, when we could no longer endure the complaints of the pilgrims, and of the poor, we left the city with the faithful servants of the church, and laid siege to Sutri, until the Divine power delivered that Bourdin aforesaid, the enemy of the church, who had there made a nest for the devil, as well as the place itself, entirely into our power. We beg your brotherly love therefore, with us, to return thanks to the King of kings, for such great benefits, and to remain most firmly in obedience and duty to the catholic church, as you will receive from God Almighty, through his grace, due recompence for it, both here and hereafter. We beg, too, that these letters be made public, with all due diligence. Done at Sutri on the fifth before the kalends of May.”

How exquisite and refined a piece of wit, to call the man he hated, the idol of the king of Germany! for the emperor certainly held in high estimation Maurice’s skill in literature and politics. He was, as I have said, bishop of Brague, a city of Spain: a man whom any one might highly reverence, and almost venerate, for his active and unwearied assiduity; had he not been led to make himself conspicuous by so disgraceful an act: nor would he have hesitated to purchase the holy see, if he could have found as desperate a seller as he was a buyer. But being taken, and made a monk, he was sent to the Den,[518] for so is the monastery called.

The laudable magnanimity of the pope proceeded still farther in the promotion of justice, to the end that he might repress the boundless and innate cupidity of the Romans. In his time there were no snares laid for the traveller in the neighbourhood of Rome; no assaults on him when he arrived within the city. The offerings to St. Peter, which, through insolence, and for their lusts, the powerful used to pillage, basely injuring such preceding popes as dared to complain, Calixtus brought back to their proper use; that is to say, for the public service of the ruler of the holy see. Neither could the desire of amassing money, nor the love of it when collected, produce in his breast any thing repugnant to justice: so that he admonished the English pilgrims, on account of the length of the journey, rather to go to St. David’s[519] than to Rome; allowing the benefit of the same benediction to such as went twice to that place, as resulted to those who went once to Rome. Moreover that inveterate controversy between the empire and the priesthood, concerning investiture, which for more than fifty years had created commotions, to such a degree, that, when any favourer of this heresy was cut off by disease or death, immediately, like the hydra’s heads, many sprouted up afresh; this man by his diligence cut off, brought low, rooted out, or plucked up: beating down the crest of German fierceness by the vigorous stroke of the papal hatchet. This, the declaration of the emperor, and of the pope, will shew to the world in the following words:

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1119.] POPE CALIXTUS II.]

“I, Calixtus, bishop, servant of the servants of God, do grant unto you, my beloved son, Henry Augustus, by the grace of God, emperor of the Romans, that the election of bishops and abbats of the German empire, who pertain to the regality, shall take place in your presence without simony, or any violence: so that if any discord shall arise between the parties, you may give your assent, or aid, to the worthier side, by the counsel or judgment of the metropolitan or suffragans: but the elect shall receive the royalties from you, and do whatever, by these, he is lawfully bound to perform to you: but any one consecrated in the other parts of the empire, shall, within six months, receive his royalties from you, by your sceptre, and do whatever, by these, he is lawfully bound to perform to you; all things excepted which are known to belong to the Roman church. Moreover in those matters whereof you have complained, and demanded my assistance, I will afford you aid according to the duty of my office. I grant firm peace to you and to all, who are, or were aiding you at the time of this dispute. Farewell.”

“In the name of the Holy and Undivided Trinity, I Henry Augustus, by the grace of God, emperor of the Romans, for the love of God, and of the holy Roman church, and of the sovereign pope Calixtus; and for the release of my soul, do grant unto God, and the holy apostles Peter and Paul, and to the holy catholic church, all investitures by the ring and staff, and do allow canonical election, and free consecration to take place, in all churches of my kingdom or empire. The possessions and regality of St. Peter, which, from the beginning of this dispute to the present day, have been taken away, either in my father’s or my own time, and which I now hold, I restore to the same holy Roman church: and such as I do not possess, I will faithfully assist her in recovering. And of the possessions of all other churches, princes, and others, clergy as well as lay, which have been forfeited in this contention by the advice of my princes, or by course of law, such as I have, I will restore; and such as I do not possess, I will faithfully assist in recovering. And I grant firm peace to the sovereign pope Calixtus, and to the holy Roman church, and to all, who are, or have been on her side: and I will faithfully assist her in every thing in which she requires assistance: and will afford her due justice in such matters whereof she shall have complained. All these affairs were transacted by the consent and counsel of the nobility, whose names are here subscribed. Albert, archbishop of Mentz: Frederic, archbishop of Cologne: the bishop of Ratisbon: the bishop of Bamburg: Bruno, bishop of Spires: the bishop of Augsburg: the bishop of Utrecht: the bishop of Constance: the abbat of Fulda: duke Herman: duke Frederic: Boniface the marquis: Theobald the marquis: Ernulf count palatine: Othbert count palatine: earl Berengar.”

The inveterate malady which had disturbed the church being thus cured, every true Christian greatly rejoiced that this emperor, who, in military glory trod fast upon the footsteps of Charles the Great, neither degenerated from his devotion to God: for, in addition to nobly quelling the rebellions of his German empire, he subdued his Italian dominions in such wise as none had done before. Entering Italy thrice, within the space of ten years, he restrained the pride of the cities: at his first coming he exterminated by fire, Novaria, Placentia, Arezzo: at the second, and third, Cremona, and Mantua; and quieted the sedition at Ravenna, by a siege of a few days’ continuance: for the Pisans and Pavians, with the people of Milan, embraced his friendship, rather than encounter the weight of his enmity. The daughter of the king of England, who, as I said before, was married to him, resembled her father in fortitude, and her mother in sanctity: piety and assiduity vied with each other in her character, nor was it easy to discern, which of her good qualities was most commendable.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1119.] WILLIAM, EARL OF POITOU.]

At that time lived William earl of Poitou; a giddy unsettled kind of man; who, after[520] he returned from Jerusalem, as the preceding book relates, wallowed as completely in the sty of vice, as though he had believed that all things were governed by chance, and not by Providence. Moreover, he rendered his absurdities pleasant, by a kind of satirical wit: exciting the loud laughter of his hearers. Finally he erected, near a castle called Niort, certain buildings after the form of a little monastery, and used to talk idly about placing therein an abbey of prostitutes, naming several of the most abandoned courtezans, one as abbess, another as prioress; and declaring that he would fill up the rest of the offices in like manner. Repudiating his lawful consort, he carried off the wife of a certain viscount, of whom he was so desperately enamoured, that he placed on his shield the figure of this woman; affirming, that he was desirous of bearing her in battle, in the same manner as she bore him at another time. Being reproved and excommunicated for this by Girard bishop of Angouleme, and ordered to renounce this illicit amour, “You shall curl with a comb,” said he, “the hair that has forsaken your forehead, ere I repudiate the viscountess;” thus taunting a man, whose scanty hair required no comb. Nor did he less when Peter bishop of Poitou, a man of noted sanctity, rebuked him still more freely; and, when contumacious, began to excommunicate him publicly: for, becoming furious, he seized the prelate by the hair, and flourishing his drawn sword: “You shall die this instant,” said he, “unless you give me absolution.” The bishop, then, counterfeiting alarm, and asking leave to speak, boldly completed the remainder of the form of excommunication; suspending the earl so entirely from all Christian intercourse, that he should neither dare to associate, nor speak with any one, unless he speedily recanted. Thus fulfilling his duty, as it appeared to him, and thirsting for the honour of martyrdom, he stretched out his neck, saying, “Strike, strike.” But William, becoming somewhat softened, regained his usual pleasantry, and said, “Certainly I hate you so cordially, that I will not dignify you by the effects of my anger, nor shall you ever enter heaven by the agency of my hand.” After a short time, however, tainted by the infectious insinuations of this abandoned woman, he drove the rebuker of his incest into banishment: who there, making a happy end, manifested to the world, by great and frequent miracles, how gloriously he survives in heaven. On hearing this, the earl abstained not from his inconsiderate speeches, openly declaring, that he was sorry he had not despatched him before; that so his pure soul might chiefly have to thank him, through whose violence he had acquired eternal happiness. The following verses are a tribute of applause to the life and death of Peter. It was said of him, when alive,--

Coarse food, his body: and the poor, his store Consum’d: while study morals gave, and lore. Virtues he rear’d, check’d faults, encouraged right, And law: in peace, not tumult, did delight. Help to the wretch, to sinners pardon gives, And, for his friend, his ardour ever lives. Busy for man was Martha; Mary’s heart, Intent on God, assumed the better part: So ’twas in him; for God his soul possess’d, Unmix’d: his friendless neighbour had the rest, Rachael he lov’d: nor Leah’s hopes depriv’d Of joy: another Jacob, doubly-wiv’d; Dotes on the one, for beauty’s matchless grace; Regards the other, for her numerous race.

And when dead, it was said of him,--

Poor and confin’d, and exiled from his see, The virtuous prelate bore each injury: Now rich, free, fix’d, his suff’rings are made even, For Christ he follows, and inherits heaven. His life, religion: and a judgment sound, His mind adorn’d; his works his fame resound, Reading his knowledge, and a golden mean His words, arrang’d: in his decisions seen Was law: severity his justice arm’d, And graceful beauty in his person charm’d: His breast was piety’s perpetual stand, The pastor’s crosier well-became his hand: The pope promotes him, but the earl deprives: Through Christ to joy eternal he survives.

The contemporaries and associates in religion of this Peter, were Robert de Arbrisil,[521] and Bernard[522] abbat of Tyron, the first of whom was the most celebrated and eloquent preacher of these times: so much did he excel, not in frothy, but honeyed diction, that from the gifts of persons vying with each other in making presents, he founded that noble monastery of nuns at Font-Evraud, in which every secular pleasure being extirpated, no other place possesses such multitudes of devout women, fervent in their obedience to God. For in addition to the rejection of other allurements, how great is this! that they never speak but in the chapter: the rule of constant silence being enjoined by the superior, because, when this is broken, women are prone to vain talk. The other, a noted admirer of poverty, leaving a most opulent monastery, retired with a few followers into a woody and sequestered place, and there, “As the light could not be hidden under a bushel,” vast numbers flocking to him, he founded a monastery, more celebrated for the piety and number of the monks, than for the splendour and extent of its riches.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1119.] SERLO, ABBAT OF GLOUCESTER.]

And, that England may not be supposed destitute of virtue, who can pass by Serlo, abbat of Gloucester, who advanced that place, almost from meanness and insignificance, to a glorious pitch? All England is acquainted with the considerate rule professed at Gloucester, which the weak may embrace, and the strong cannot despise. Their leader, Serlo’s axiom, was, “Moderation in all things.” Although mild to the good, he was fierce and terrific to the haughty; to corroborate which, I shall insert the verses of Godfrey the prior concerning him:--

The church’s bulwark fell, when Serlo died, Virtue’s sharp sword, and justice’s fond pride: Speaker of truth, no vain discourse he lov’d, And pleas’d the very princes he reprov’d: A hasty judgment, or disorder’d state Of life, or morals, were his utter hate. The third of March was the propitious day, When Serlo wing’d, through death, to life his way.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1119.] DEATH OF ST. LANZO.]

Who can in silence pass Lanzo, who flourished at that time, equal to any in sanctity? A monk of Clugny, and prior of St. Pancras[523] in England; who, by his worth, so ennobled that place with the grace of monastic reverence, that it might be justly declared the peculiar habitation of virtue. As nothing I can say will equal the merits of his life, I shall merely subjoin, in the language I found it, an account of his death; that it may plainly appear, how gloriously he had lived, who died so highly favoured.

“The affectionate Lord who scourges every son whom he receives,--who promises the just, that they shall be partakers of his sufferings as well as of his consolation; permitted Lanzo to approach his death by such bitter sickness, during three days, that if any spot from earthly intercourse had adhered to his pure soul, it must no doubt have been wiped away by that suffering. For, as that great apostle, who reclined on the breast of our Lord, says, ‘If we say that we have no sin we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us;’ and since Christ will judge every sin, either lightly here or more severely hereafter, he was unwilling that any offence should be in the way of him after death, whom he knew to have loved him with all his heart. Wherefore, if there was anything which he thought worthy of examination in Lanzo, he was desirous of consuming it in his lifetime. To this assertion his confidence in death bore witness. For when in full health, on the fifth day of the week before the passion of our Lord, having read the psalter, according to the daily custom of Lent, and being about to celebrate mass at the third hour, he had robed himself to the chasuble,[524] and had proceeded in the service till mass was on the eve of beginning, he was suddenly seized with such an acute disorder, that himself laying aside the garments he had put on, he left them not even folded up.[525] Departing from the oratory, he was afflicted for two days, without intermission, that is, till the Saturday, having no rest either sitting, walking, standing, lying, or sleeping. During the nights, however, he never spoke to his brethren, though entreating him to break silence; but to this he did not consent, beseeching them not to sully the purity of his vow; for since he had assumed the monastic habit, whenever he had gone out from complines, he had never spoken till primes of the ensuing day. But on the Saturday, though so convulsed as to expect dissolution every moment, he commanded the brethren, now rising for matins, to come and anoint him: and when he was anxious to kiss them, after being anointed, as is the custom, through excess of love he saluted them, not lying or sitting, but, though agonized to death, standing, supported in their arms. At dawn, being conducted to the chapter-house,[526] when he had taken his seat, he asked all the brethren to come before him, and giving them the paternal benediction and absolution, he entreated the like from them. He then instructed them what they were to do in case he died: and so, returning whence he came, he passed the rest of the day with the succeeding Sunday, rather more tranquilly; but, behold, after this, that is, after Sunday, signs of approaching death were discovered; and having his hands washed, and his hair combed, he entered the oratory to hear mass; and receiving the body and blood of the Lord retired to his bed. After a short time he became speechless, gave his benediction to the brethren singly as they came before him, and in like manner to the whole society. But lifting his eyes to heaven, he attempted with both hands to bless the abbat, with all committed to his charge. Being entreated by the fraternity to be mindful of them with the Lord, to whom he was going, he most kindly assented by an inclination of his head. After he had done thus, he beckoned for the cross to be presented to him, which, adoring with his head and indeed with his whole body, and embracing with his hands, he appeared to salute with joyful lips and to kiss with fond affection, when he distressed the standers-by with signs of departing, and, being caught up in their arms, was carried yet alive into the presbytery before the altar of St. Pancras. Here, surviving yet a time, and pleasing from the rosy hue of his countenance, he departed to Christ, pure, and freed eternally from every evil, at the same hour of the day on which, for his purification, he had been stricken with disease. And behold how wonderfully all things corresponded; the passion of the servant with the passion of the Lord; the hour of approaching sickness with the hour of approaching eternal happiness; the five days of illness which he endured for purifying the five senses of the body, through which none can avoid sin. Moreover, from his dying ere the completion of the fifth day, I think it is signified that he had never sinned in the last sense which is called the touch. And what else can the third hour of the day, in which he fell sick, and by dying entered into eternal life, signify, than that the same grace of the Holy Spirit, by which we know his whole life was regulated, was evidently present to him, both in his sickness and his death. Besides, we cannot doubt but that he equalled our fathers Odo and Odilo,[527] both in virtue and in its reward, as a remarkable circumstance granted to them was allowed to him also. For as the Lord permitted them to die on the octaves of those festivals which they loved beyond all other, (as St. Odo chiefly loved the feast of St. Martin, and St. Odilo the nativity of our Lord, and each died on the octaves of these tides), so to Lanzo, who beyond all of this age observed the rule of St. Benedict, and venerated the holy mother of God and her solemnities with singular regard, it happened that, as, according to his usual custom, both on the demise of St. Benedict, and on the festival of St. Mary, which is called the Annunciation, he celebrated high mass in the convent: so on the eighth from the aforesaid anniversary of St. Benedict, being stricken with sickness, he also on the eighth day from the annunciation departed to Christ. Wherefore, he who is unacquainted with the life of Lanzo, may learn from his death, how pleasing it was to God, and will believe with us that these things, which I have mentioned, did not happen after the common course of dying persons, as he was a man surpassed by none, in the present times, for the gifts of the Holy Spirit.”

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1119.] GODFREY, PRIOR OF WINTON.]

Nor ought the memory of Godfrey, prior of Winchester, to decay, who was celebrated in these times for his learning and his piety: his learning is attested by many works and epistles composed in his familiar and pleasing style, but principally by his epigrams, written after the manner of satires, and his verses in celebration of the chief personages of England.[528] Indeed he restored every divine office to its native grace, from the manner in which he treated it, though before it had become obsolete from antiquity. The laws of religion and of hospitality, already happily traced out, he strongly impressed on the monks, who to this day so closely follow the footsteps of the prior in both, that they deserve all or nearly all possible commendation; indeed in this house there is a place of entertainment to any extent, for travellers of every description by sea or land, with boundless expense and ceaseless attention. Among other things this holy man was noted for his humility, so that nothing but what savoured of modesty and sweetness proceeded from this singular depository of philosophy. How great indeed must this commendation seem? for there is hardly any one, even the least tinctured with learning, who does not appear to consider others beneath his dignity, by his haughty gestures and proud gait proclaiming the consciousness of his own erudition. However, that no perfection might be wanting to his pure soul, he kept his lowly bed for many years, equally consuming his vitals and his transgressions in the furnace of lasting sickness.

But why should I enlarge on such characters? There were, indeed, at that time in England many persons illustrious both for learning and for piety, whose virtue was the more commendable in proportion to its constancy and vigour in these degenerate times. By a blameless life, therefore, they gave credibility to ancient histories, and freed them from any suspicion of falsehood, as they produced modern example of the possibility of doing what was there recorded. Moreover, were there any prelates apparently degenerating from the sanctity of ancient times, that is to say, skilled in secular, indolent in spiritual matters? If there were such, I say, they endeavoured to shade their failings by costly ornaments for their cathedrals. Each of them erected new churches, and adorned the bodies of their saints with silver and gold; lavish of expense to secure the good opinion of the beholders. Among these is Ranulf before-mentioned, who, being made bishop of Durham, purchased some glory for his name, by new buildings for the monks, and by regard to St. Cuthbert. His fame is exalted by his translation of the holy body, which when taken from its resting-place he exhibited to all who wished to behold it. Radulf, at that time bishop of Sees, and afterwards archbishop of Canterbury, with fortunate temerity, handled and displayed the uncorrupted body; for it had become matter of doubt with certain persons whether the miracle of the incorruption of the corpse, which had formerly been reported, still had effect. About the same time, in the monastery of Ely, under abbat Richard, the virgin reliques of St. Etheldritha, subjects of amaze and reverence to the beholders, were seen entire. This monastery, lately changed by king Henry into a bishopric, had Hervey, as its first prelate; who, from the scantiness of its revenues, had deserted Bangor, where he had been enthroned. And that the bishop of Lincoln might not complain of the mutilation of his diocese, the king made up his loss, out of the possessions of Ely, and satisfied his claim. Indeed, whatever, in his time, was unjustly purloined, or violently taken, from the primacy of the two metropolitans of Canterbury and York, I will relate in its proper place. For having now ended the series of the kings, it seems incumbent on me, to speak of that of the bishops of all England: and here I wish I had abundant matter for relation, in order that such splendid luminaries of the country might no longer be lost in obscurity. Moreover, there will perhaps be many in different parts of England, who may say, that they have heard and read some things differently related from the mode in which I have recorded them: but if they judge candidly, they will not, on this account, brand me with censure: since, following the strict laws of history, I have asserted nothing but what I have learned either from relators, or writers, of veracity. But be these matters as they may, I especially congratulate myself on being, through Christ’s assistance, the only person, or at least the first, who, since Bede, have arranged a continued history of the English. Should any one, therefore, as I already hear it intimated, undertake, after me, a work of a similar nature, he may be indebted to me for having collected materials, though the selection from them must depend upon himself.[529]

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1119.] CONCLUSION, TO EARL ROBERT.]

Thus much then, my venerated lord, I have had to relate, concerning the history of the English, from their first arrival in this country, till the twentieth year of your father’s most happy reign: the remainder will occupy a separate volume, if you condescend a kind regard to these. For when I had finished this work, after contemplating many characters, I determined that it ought more especially to be dedicated to you: as, when I examine others, I observe nobility in one; in another military science; in a third learning; justice in a fourth; but munificence in few indeed. Thus, I admire some things in one, some in another; but in you the aggregate of all. For, if ever any man was truly noble, you certainly excel in that quality; being descended from the most glorious kings and earls, and resembling them in your disposition. From the Normans, therefore, you derive your military skill; from the Flemings your personal elegance; from the French your surpassing munificence. Of your activity in war, who can doubt, when your most excellent father himself looks up to it? For whenever any tumults are reported in Normandy, he despatches you before him, in order that, what is suspicious may be dispelled by your valour, and peace may be restored by your sagacity. When he returns to his kingdom, he brings you with him, as a safeguard to him abroad, a delight at home, and an ornament every where.

So devoted are you to literature, that though distracted by such a mass of business, you yet snatch some hours to yourself, for the purpose either of reading, or of hearing others. Justly do you regulate, indeed, your exalted rank in life, neither omitting the toils of war for literature, nor contemning literature, as some do, for military service. Here, also, the excess of your learning appears; for, whilst you love books, you manifest how deeply you have drunk of the stream. For many things, indeed, are eagerly desired when not possessed, but no person will love philosophy, who shall not have imbibed it thoroughly. The fame of your justice reaches even our parts; for a false sentence has never been extorted from you, either by elevation of rank, or by scantiness of fortune. The person who wishes to subvert justice, finds in your breast nothing conducive to his design, either by the offering of presents, or by the charm of favour. Your munificence and disregard of money, is amply shown by the monastery of Tewkesbury; from which, as I hear, you not only do not extort presents but even return its voluntary offerings. You must be well aware, how noble such a proceeding is, more especially at the present time; how much it redounds to your glory among men, how productive of the favour of God. Happy, then, according to Plato, is the republic whose ruler is a philosopher, whose sovereign delights not in gifts. More could I add on such subjects, did not the suspicion of flattery on my part, and commendable modesty on yours, restrain my tongue. In truth, my design was, not to pass by in silence the things I have uttered, in order that, by my agency, your worth might reach posterity; and that it may continue to proceed from virtue to virtue. Moreover, it was long since my intention, at the instance of certain persons, to subjoin to this work, whatever I may deem of importance, according to the successive years: but it appears advisable rather to form another volume of such matters, than to be perpetually adding to that already completed. Nor can any one say, that I engage in a superfluous work, if I record the transactions of the most celebrated among the kings of his time. Indeed my lowly condition is much indebted to his greatness, and will be still more so, were it for nothing else, than his being able to pride himself on such a son.[530] For, when he had most auspiciously begotten, he first commanded you to be instructed, not superficially, as plainly appears at the present day, in science; he next made you master of a most princely fortune; and, at this moment he reposes his paternal regards upon you. Let this volume then, whatever its merits or defects, be altogether dedicated to your fame; in the next my life and my history will terminate together. Farther, kindly accept this my offering, that I, whose judgment has not erred in its choice, may be gratified by the good wishes of my patron.

THE MODERN HISTORY.

PREFACE,

ADDRESSED TO ROBERT, EARL OF GLOUCESTER.

To his most loving lord, Robert, son of king Henry, and earl of Gloucester, William, librarian of Malmesbury, wishes, after completing his victorious course on earth, eternal triumph in heaven. Many of the transactions of your father, of glorious memory, I have not omitted to record, both in the fifth book of my Regal History, and in those three smaller volumes, which I have intituled Chronicles.[531] Your highness is now desirous that those events which, through the miraculous power of God, have taken place in modern time, in England, should be transmitted to posterity: truly, like all your other desires, a most noble one. For what more concerns the advancement of virtue; what more conduces to justice; than to recognize the divine favour towards good men, and his vengeance upon the wicked? What, too, can be more grateful, than to commit to the page of history, the exploits of brave men, by whose example others may shake off their indolence, and take up arms in defence of their country? As this task is committed to my pen, I think the narrative will proceed with exacter order, if, going back a little, I trace the series of years from the return of the empress into England, after the death of her husband. First, therefore, invoking the help of God, as is fitting, and purposing to write the truth, without listening to enmity, or sacrificing to favour, I shall begin as follows.

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Book I

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1126.] THE EMPRESS MATILDA.]

In the twenty-sixth year of Henry king of England, which was A.D. 1126, Henry, emperor of Germany, to whom Matilda the aforesaid king’s daughter had been married, died[532] in the very bloom of his life and of his conquests. Our king was at that time residing in Normandy, to quell whatever tumults might arise in those parts. As soon as he heard of the death of his son-in-law, he recalled his daughter by honourable messengers despatched for that purpose. The empress, as they say, returned with reluctance, as she had become habituated to the country which was her dowry, and had large possessions there. It is well known, that several princes of Lorraine and Lombardy came, during succeeding years, repeatedly into England, to demand her as their sovereign; but they lost the fruit of their labours, the king designing, by the marriage of his daughter, to procure peace between himself and the earl of Anjou. He was certainly, in an extraordinary degree, the greatest of all kings in the memory either of ourselves, or of our fathers: and yet nevertheless, he ever, in some measure, dreaded the power of the earls of Anjou. Hence it arose, that he broke off and annulled the espousals which William, his nephew, afterwards earl of Flanders, was said to be about to contract with the daughter of Fulco, earl of Anjou, who was afterwards king of Jerusalem. Hence, too, it arose, that he united a daughter of the same earl to his son William, while yet a stripling; and hence it was, that he married his daughter, of whom we began to speak, after her imperial match, to a son of the same Fulco, as my narrative will proceed to disclose.

In the twenty-seventh year of his reign, in the month of September, king Henry came to England, bringing his daughter with him. But, at the ensuing Christmas, convening a great number of the clergy and nobility at London, he gave the county of Salop to his wife, the daughter of the earl of Louvain, whom he had married after the death of Matilda. Distressed that this lady had no issue, and fearing lest she should be perpetually childless, with well-founded anxiety, he turned his thoughts on a successor to the kingdom. On which subject, having held much previous and long-continued deliberation, he now at this council compelled all the nobility of England, as well as the bishops and abbats, to make oath, that, if he should die without male issue, they would, without delay or hesitation, accept his daughter Matilda, the late empress, as their sovereign: observing, how prejudicially to the country fate had snatched away his son William, to whom the kingdom by right had pertained: and, that his daughter still survived, to whom alone the legitimate succession belonged, from her grandfather, uncle, and father, who were kings; as well as from her maternal descent for many ages back: inasmuch as from Egbert, king of the West Saxons, who first subdued or expelled the other kings of the island, in the year of the incarnation 800,[533] through a line of fourteen kings, down to A.D. 1043, in which king Edward, who lies at Westminster, was elevated to the throne, the line of royal blood did never fail, nor falter in the succession.[534] Moreover, Edward, the last, and at the same time the most noble, of that stock, had united[535] Margaret, his grand-niece by his brother Edmund Ironside, to Malcolm, king of Scotland, whose daughter Matilda, as was well known, was the empress’s mother. All therefore, in this council, who were considered as persons of any note, took the oath: and first of all William, archbishop of Canterbury; next the other bishops, and the abbats in like manner. The first of the laity, who swore, was David, king of Scotland, uncle of the empress; then Stephen, earl of Moreton and Boulogne, nephew of king Henry by his sister Adala; then Robert, the king’s son, who was born to him before he came to the throne, and whom he had created earl of Gloucester,[536] bestowing on him in marriage Mabil, a noble and excellent woman; a lady devoted to her husband, and blessed in a numerous and beautiful offspring. There was a singular dispute, as they relate, between Robert and Stephen, contending with rival virtue, which of them should take the oath first; one alleging the privilege of a son, the other the dignity of a nephew. Thus all being bound by fealty and by oath, they, at that time, departed to their homes; but after Pentecost, the king sent his daughter into Normandy, ordering her to be betrothed,[537] by the archbishop of Rouen, to the son of Fulco aforesaid, a youth of high nobility and noted courage. Nor did he himself delay setting sail for Normandy, for the purpose of uniting them in wedlock. Which being completed, all declared prophetically, as it were, that, after his death, they would break their plighted oath. I have frequently heard Roger, bishop of Salisbury, say, that he was freed from the oath he had taken to the empress: for that he had sworn conditionally, that the king should not marry his daughter to any one out of the kingdom without his consent, or that of the rest of the nobility: that none of them advised the match, or indeed knew of it, except Robert, earl of Gloucester, and Brian Fitzcount, and the bishop of Louviers. Nor do I relate this merely because I believe the assertion of a man who knew how to accommodate himself to every varying time, as fortune ordered it; but, as an historian of veracity, I write the general belief of the people.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1128.] OF THE SUCCESSION.]

The remaining years of the life and reign of Henry, I must review briefly, in order that posterity may neither be defrauded of a knowledge of these events, nor that I may seem to dwell on topics little relevant to this history. In his twenty-eighth year, the king[538] returned from Normandy; in his twenty-ninth, a circumstance occurred in England which may seem surprising to our long-haired gallants, who, forgetting what they were born, transform themselves into the fashion of females, by the length of their locks. A certain English knight, who prided himself on the luxuriancy of his tresses, being stung by conscience on the subject, seemed to feel in a dream as though some person strangled him with his ringlets. Awaking in a fright, he immediately cut off all his superfluous hair. The example spread throughout England; and, as recent punishment is apt to affect the mind, almost all military men allowed their hair to be cropped in a proper manner, without reluctance. But this decency was not of long continuance; for scarcely had a year expired, ere all who thought themselves courtly, relapsed into their former vice: they vied with women in length of locks, and wherever they were defective, put on false tresses; forgetful, or rather ignorant, of the saying of the apostle, “If a man nurture his hair, it is a shame to him.”[539]

In his thirtieth year, king Henry went into Normandy. Pope Honorius dying in this year, the church of Rome was agitated by great contentions about electing his successor. There were, at that time, in the city, two very celebrated cardinals, Gregory, deacon of St. Angelo, and Peter, cardinal-priest, son of Leo, prince of the Romans; both noted for learning, and activity, nor could the people easily discern which of them more justly ought to be elected by the clergy. The party, however, which favoured Gregory took the lead, and ordaining him pope, called him Innocent. Moreover a rumour was disseminated among the people, that Honorius was still just alive, and had commanded this to be done. The promoters of this choice were, William, bishop of Præneste, Matthew of Albano, Conrad of Sabina, John of Ostia, Peter of Crema, cardinal of St. Chrysogonus, and Haimer the chancellor. But the other party, after Honorius was buried, at the instigation of Peter’s brothers, who were the most opulent and powerful of the Romans, having elected and consecrated him, gave him the name of Anaclet. The chief adviser and instigator to this ordination was Peter, bishop of Porto, whose letter, if I subjoin it, will disclose the whole controversy; although it inclines rather to Anaclet.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1130.] OF THE POPE’S ELECTION.]

“Peter, bishop of Porto, to the four bishops, William of Præneste, Matthew of Albano, Conrad of Sabina, John of Ostia. How great is the tribulation of my heart for you, he only knows, who knows all things; indeed, you would have already been acquainted with it, in part, by my letters, did not the sentence and the common authority of the church prohibit. Of the praise or dispraise of those persons, concerning whom various discourses are at present held, it is not of this world to judge: there is who may seek and judge. But if any be ready to accuse, one will be ready, and who is also bound, to reply; more especially when both in your and my sight, and in that of the whole church, each of them has lived discreetly and honestly; and has hitherto executed his office impartially. It rather concerns you to abstain from idle language and the words of haste. If the question be of report, the business is far different from what your letters to me declare. In addition to this, if you regard the accounts you have published, and the order of proceeding, with due reverence be it spoken, by what boldness, by what assurance, do you presume to call that usurpation of yours an election? Why do you call that man of yours ordained, when there was no order whatever in his case? Have you so learned to elect a pope? What, in a corner, in a hidden place, in darkness, and in the shadow of death? If you were desirous that a living should succeed to a dead pope, why would you give out that the deceased was still alive? It were much better, surely, to pay the last sad offices to the dead, and in this manner provide for the succour of the living: but, behold, while you seek succour for the living from the dead, you destroy both the living and the dead at the same time. Lastly, it was neither your office nor mine to elect; but rather to refuse, or to approve, when elected by the brethren. Since, therefore, in neglect of the ritual, contempt of the canon, and disregard of the very anathema, framed by yourselves; without consulting me, your superior, or your elder brethren and superiors, or even summoning, or waiting for them; when you were inexperienced, and but very few in number, you have presumed to do this; you must be sensible, from your own estimation of the case, that it must be considered void and of no avail whatever. The Lord, however, was quickly present to us, and pointed out a method whereby to obviate your error. For, indeed, your brethren the cardinals, who possess the chief power of electing, together with the whole clergy, at the request of the people, and with the consent of the nobility, openly, in the light of day, have unanimously, and heartily, elected the noble cardinal Peter, as Roman pontiff, by the title of Anaclet. I have witnessed this election canonically celebrated; and confirmed it by the authority of God. The church accepts and venerates him; and, by the grace of God, the bishops and abbats, chief princes and barons, some by themselves, and others by their delegates, acknowledge him in our presence. The robbery and cruelty you mention, I do not perceive: whoever goes to him for consultation, or on business, is kindly received, and still more kindly dismissed. Return, then, return to your understanding, do not make a schism in the church, to the perdition of souls: do not persist any farther; let the fear of God possess you, not worldly shame: does any sleep, will he not add, that he must rise again? Cease now from lies, in which the wicked put their hope. The lord Tiburtius hath testified by oath, in writing, that I have deemed the deacon of St. Angelo, the only fit person for the office of pope: let him look to what he hath said: I have spoken nothing in secret; no person hath ever heard such a word as this from my mouth. My opinion always was, that till the pope was buried no mention should be made of his successor. I have held, and will hold, the unity of the church; I will be careful to adhere to truth and justice; confidently hoping, that truth and justice will set me free.”

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1131.] DEATH OF ANACLET.]

After this manner wrote the aforesaid Peter, bishop of Porto, rather partial to Peter, the son of Leo. Nor did the other party at all give way; but called Peter himself a lion’s whelp,[540] and his partizans, the leaders of a faction. And they, indeed, acted variously among themselves, under these doubtful circumstances. Innocent, however, excluded from Rome, passed the Alps and went into France. Here he was immediately received by all the churches on this side the mountains; and moreover, even king Henry, who did not very well know how to be driven from an opinion he had once taken up, willingly acknowledged him at Chartres; and, at Rouen, condescended to honour him, not only with presents from himself, but also from the nobility, and even the Jews. Yet Innocent, though greatly assisted by the kings of England and France, and the emperor of Germany, could never enjoy peace so long as Anaclet occupied the see of Rome. However, Anaclet himself dying in the eighth year of his usurped papacy, as it was called, Innocent enjoys the papal dignity unmolested to the present time.[541]

In the thirty-first year of his reign, king Henry returned to England. The empress, too, in the same year, arrived on her native soil, and a full meeting of the nobility being held at Northampton, the oath of fidelity to her was renewed by such as had already sworn, and also taken by such as hitherto had not. In the same year[542] Lewis, king of France, growing aged and unwieldy through extreme corpulency, commanded his son to be crowned as successor to the kingdom; who dying soon after by the fall of his horse, he caused another of his sons to be consecrated king, by the hands of the Roman pontiff. He, as they relate, not degenerating from the ancient valour of the French, hath also acquired Aquitain, as the marriage portion of his wife, which, it is well known, the kings of France have never held in their own right since Lewis, son of Charles the Great.

In the thirty-first[543] [second] year of king Henry, a dreadful murrain among domestic animals extended over the whole of England. Entire herds of swine suddenly perished; whole stalls of oxen were swept off in a moment: the same contagion continued in the following years, so that no village throughout the kingdom was free from this calamity, or able to exult at the losses of its neighbours. At this time, too, the contention between Bernard, bishop of St. David’s, and Urban, of Landaff, on the rights of their dioceses, which Urban had illegally usurped, was finally put to rest. For, after being agitated by so many appeals to the court of Rome, so many expensive journeys, so many debates of lawyers, for a number of years, it was at last terminated, or rather cut short, by the death of Urban at Rome. The pope also, weighing the equity of the case, did justice to the piety and right of the bishop of St. David’s by a suitable judgment. In the same year William, archbishop of Canterbury, personally obtained the legation of England, through the indulgence of the see of Rome.

The day after the thirty-second[544] year of his reign was completed, Henry, on the nones of August, the very day on which he had formerly been crowned at Westminster, set sail for Normandy. This was the last, the fatal voyage of his reign. The providence of God, at that time, bore reference in a wonderful manner to human affairs: for instance, that he should embark, never to return alive, on that day on which he had originally been crowned, so long and prosperously to reign. It was then, as I have said, the nones of August; and, on the fourth day of the week, the elements manifested their sorrow at this great man’s last departure. For the sun on that day,[545] at the sixth hour, shrouded his glorious face, as the poets say, in hideous darkness, agitating the hearts of men by an eclipse: and on the sixth day of the week, early in the morning, there was so great an earthquake, that the ground appeared absolutely to sink down; a horrid sound being first heard from beneath the surface. During the eclipse I saw stars around the sun: and, at the time of the earthquake, the wall of the house in which I was sitting was lifted up by two shocks, and settled again with a third. The king, therefore, continued in Normandy for the space of three[546] whole years, and so much longer, as from the nones of August, on which day, as has been said, he crossed the sea, to the kalends of December, on which night he died. Doubtlessly he performed many things worthy of record while in Normandy, but it was my design to omit whatever did not come authenticated to my knowledge. Divers expectations of his return to England were all frustrated, by some adverse fate, or by the will of God.

He reigned, then, thirty-five years, and from the nones of August to the kalends of December, that is, four months, wanting four days. Engaged in hunting at Lihun, he was taken suddenly ill. His malady increasing, he summoned to him, Hugo, whom, from prior of Lewes, he had made abbat of Reading, and afterwards archbishop of Rouen, who was justly indebted to him and his heirs for such great favours. The report of his sickness quickly gathered the nobility around him. Robert, too, his son, the earl of Gloucester, was present; who, from his unblemished fidelity and matchless virtue, has deserved to be especially signalized throughout all ages. Being interrogated by these persons, as to his successor, he awarded all his territories, on either side of the sea, to his daughter, in legitimate and perpetual succession; being somewhat displeased with her husband, as he had irritated him both by threats and by certain injuries. Having passed the seventh day of his sickness, he yielded to nature about midnight. I waive describing his magnanimous character in this place, as I have been diffuse upon it in the fifth book of my Regal History. In how Christian a manner he departed, the following epistle of the aforesaid archbishop of Rouen, will testify.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1093.] DEATH OF HENRY I.]

“To his lord and father, pope Innocent, due obedience from his servant, Hugo, priest of Rouen. I have deemed it proper to write to your fatherly affection concerning the king my master, never to be remembered but with grief: for, being seized with sudden sickness, he wished for me to console his sufferings, and sent messengers as soon as possible for that purpose. I went, and passed three melancholy days with him. Agreeably to my suggestion, he confessed his sins, he beat his breast, and he laid aside all his animosities. Through the grace of God, and through our advice and that of the bishops, he promised to attend to the amendment of his life. Under this promise, according to our office, on the third day, and three days successively, we gave him absolution. He devoutly adored the cross of our Lord, received his body and blood; bestowed his alms thus; saying, ‘Let my debts be paid, let the wages[547] and stipends which I owe be discharged, let the remainder be distributed to the poor.’ I wish they who held, and do hold, his treasures had done thus. At last I earnestly stated to him our duty concerning the unction of the sick, which the church adopted from the apostle St. James, and, at his own devout request, I anointed him with holy oil. Thus he rested in peace; and may God grant him the peace he loved.” These circumstances relating to the faith of king Henry when dying, were truly attested by the aforesaid archbishop of Rouen.

The body, royally attended and borne by the nobility in turn, was brought to Rouen; where, in a certain retired part of the principal church, it was embowelled, lest, through time, becoming putrid, it should offend the senses of those who approached it. The intestines were buried in the monastery of St. Mary des Prees, near the city, which, as I hear, he had honoured with no mean presents, as it had been begun by his mother. His body was kept at Caen, till the season, which was then very boisterous, became more tranquil. In the meantime, Stephen earl of Moreton and Boulogne, nephew of king Henry, as I have before said, who, after the king of Scotland, was the first layman that had sworn fidelity to the empress, hastened his return into England by Whitsand. The empress, from certain causes, as well as her brother, Robert earl of Gloucester, and almost all the nobility, delayed returning to the kingdom. However, some castles in Normandy, the principal of which was Danfrunt, espoused the party of the heiress. Moreover, it is well known, that, on the day on which Stephen disembarked in England, there was, very early in the morning, contrary to the nature of winter in these countries, a terrible peal of thunder, with most dreadful lightning, so that the world seemed well-nigh about to be dissolved. He was received, however, as king, by the people of London and of Winchester, and gained over also Roger bishop of Salisbury, and William Pont de L’Arche, the keepers of the royal treasures. Yet, not to conceal the truth from posterity, all his attempts would have been vain, had not his brother, Henry bishop of Winchester, who is now legate of the papal see in England, granted him his entire support: allured indeed by the fullest expectation that Stephen would follow the example of his grandfather William in the management of the kingdom, and more especially in the strictness of ecclesiastical discipline. In consequence, when Stephen was bound by the rigorous oath which William archbishop of Canterbury required from him, concerning restoring and preserving the liberty of the church, the bishop of Winchester became his pledge and surety. The written tenor of this oath, I shall be careful hereafter to insert in its proper place.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1135.] STEPHEN, KING OF ENGLAND.]

Stephen, therefore, was crowned king of England on Sunday the eleventh[548] before the kalends of January, the twenty-second day after the decease of his uncle, anno Dom. 1135, in the presence of three bishops, that is, the archbishop, and those of Winchester and Salisbury; but there were no abbats, and scarcely any of the nobility. He was a man of activity, but imprudent: strenuous in war; of great mind in attempting works of difficulty; mild and compassionate to his enemies, and affable to all. Kind, as far as promise went; but sure to disappoint in its truth and execution. Whence he soon afterwards neglected the advice of his brother, befriended by whose assistance, as I have said, he had supplanted his adversaries and obtained the kingdom.

In the year of our Lord 1135, on the prevalence of gentler gales, the body of king Henry was, immediately after Christmas, put on ship-board, and brought to England; and, in the presence of his successor in the kingdom, was buried at the monastery of Reading, which he had liberally endowed, and filled with an order of monks of singular piety. Shortly after, a little before Lent, king Stephen went into Northumberland, that he might have a conference with David king of Scotland, who was said to entertain hostile sentiments towards him. From David he readily obtained what he wished; because, being softened by the natural gentleness of his manners, or by the approach of old age, he willingly embraced the tranquillity of peace, real or pretended.

In the same year, after Easter, Robert earl of Gloucester, of whose prudence Stephen chiefly stood in awe, came to England. While he was yet resident in Normandy, he had most earnestly considered, what line of conduct he should determine upon in the present state of affairs. If he became subject to Stephen, it seemed contrary to the oath he had sworn to his sister; if he opposed him, he saw that he could nothing benefit her or his nephews, though he must grievously injure himself. For the king, as I said before, had an immense treasure, which his uncle had been accumulating for many years. His coin, and that of the best quality,[549] was estimated at a hundred thousand pounds; besides which, there were vessels of gold and silver, of great weight, and inestimable value, collected by the magnificence of preceding kings, and chiefly by Henry.[550] A man possessed of such boundless treasures, could not want supporters, more especially as he was profuse, and, what by no means becomes a prince, even prodigal. Soldiers of all kinds, and light-armed troops, were flocking to him, chiefly from Flanders and Brittany. These were a most rapacious and violent race of men; who made no scruple to violate church-yards,[551] or rob a church. Moreover, not only would they drag men of the religious order from their horses, but also make them captive: and this was done not merely by foreigners, but even by the native soldiers, who had abhorred the tranquillity of king Henry’s time, because it subjected them to a life of poverty. All these most readily resorted to the prince whom they could easily incline to their purposes, pushing their fortune at the expense of the people. Stephen, indeed, before he came to the throne, from his complacency of manners, and readiness to joke, and sit, and regale, even with low people, had gained so much on their affections, as is hardly to be conceived: and already had all the nobility of England willingly acknowledged him. The most prudent earl therefore was extremely desirous to convince them of their misconduct, and recall them to wiser sentiments by his presence; for, to oppose Stephen’s power, he was unable, from the causes aforesaid: indeed he had not the liberty of coming to England, unless, appearing as a partaker of their revolt, he dissembled for a time his secret intentions. He did homage to the king, therefore, under a certain condition; namely, so long as he should preserve his rank entire, and maintain his engagements to him; for having long since scrutinized Stephen’s disposition, he foresaw the instability of his faith.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1135.] KING STEPHEN’S CHARTER.]

In the same year, soon after the earl’s arrival, the bishops swore fidelity to the king, “so long as he should maintain the liberty of the church, and the vigour of its discipline.” He himself also swore according to the tenor of the following instrument.

“I Stephen, by the grace of God, elected king of England by the consent of the clergy and of the people, and consecrated by the lord William, archbishop of Canterbury and legate of the holy Roman church, and afterwards confirmed by Innocent, pope of the holy Roman see, through respect and love towards God, do grant the holy church to be free, and confirm to it all due reverence. I promise that I will neither do any thing simoniacally, nor permit it to be done, in the church, or in matters ecclesiastical. The jurisdiction and power over beneficed clergy, and over all persons in orders, and their property, and the distribution of effects of ecclesiastics, I admit to be in the hands of the bishops, and confirm it so to be. I grant and appoint, that the immunities of the churches, confirmed by their charters, and their customs observed from ancient usage, do remain inviolate. All the possessions of the churches, and the tenures which they held during the life, and at the death of my grandfather king William, I grant to them free, and discharged from the claim of all parties: but if the church shall hereafter claim any thing held, or possessed, before the death of the king, of which it is now deprived, I reserve such matter for discussion, or restitution at my will and pleasure. Moreover, whatever, since that king’s death, has been obtained by the liberality of kings, or the gift of princes; by offerings, or purchase, or by any exchange of the faithful, I confirm. I pledge myself to keep peace, and do justice to all, and to preserve them to my utmost ability. I reserve to myself the forests which king William, my grandfather, and William the Second, my uncle, have made and possessed: all the rest which king Henry added, I give and grant, without molestation, to the churches, and the kingdom. And if any bishop or abbat, or other ecclesiastical person, shall have severally distributed[552] his property before his death, or appointed such distribution, I allow it to remain good: but if he shall have been suddenly seized by death, before making a disposition, let the said distribution be made, at the discretion of the church, for the repose of his soul. Moreover, when the sees shall be vacant, let both them, and their whole possessions, be committed into the hands and custody of the clergy, or of lawful men of the same church, until a pastor be canonically appointed. I entirely do away all exactions, mischeningas,[553] and injustices, whether illegally introduced by the sheriffs, or any one else. I will observe the good and ancient laws, and just customs, in murders, pleas, and other causes, and I command and appoint them to be so observed. Done at Oxford, A.D. 1136, in the first year of my reign.”

The names of the witnesses, who were numerous, I disdain to particularize, because he as basely perverted almost every thing, as if he had sworn only that he might manifest himself a violator of his oath to the whole kingdom. This easy man must pardon me for speaking the truth; who, had he entered on the sovereignty lawfully, and not given a ready ear to the insinuations of the malevolent in the administration of it, would have wanted little in any princely quality. Under him, therefore, the treasures of several churches were pillaged, and their landed possessions given to laymen; the churches of the clergy were sold to foreigners; the bishops made captive, or forced to alienate their property; the abbeys given to improper persons, either through the influence of friendship, or for the discharge of debts. Still I think such transactions are not so much to be ascribed to him as to his advisers; who persuaded him, that, he ought never to want money, so long as the monasteries were stored with treasure.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1137.] THE KING LEAVES ENGLAND.]

In the year of our Lord 1137, in the beginning of Lent, the king crossed the sea. The earl, too, having thoroughly sounded, and discovered the inclinations of such as he knew to be tenacious of their plighted oath, and arranged what he conceived proper to be done afterwards, himself embarked on Easter-day, and prosperously reached the continent. Not long after, he had very nearly experienced the malignity of adverse fortune: for the king endeavoured to intercept him by treachery, at the instigation of one William de Ipres. The earl, however, informed of it by one of the accomplices, avoided the snare prepared for him, and absented himself from the palace, whither he was repeatedly invited, for several days. The king, troubled at having succeeded so little by his artifices, and thinking to effect his design by cunning, endeavoured, by a serene countenance and unrequired confession, to extenuate the enormity of his crime. He swore, in words framed at the earl’s pleasure, never again to give countenance to such an outrage: and still more to recover his good graces, he confirmed his oath, by Hugo, archbishop of Rouen, giving his hand to Robert. This he did, it is true; but he never bestowed his unreserved friendship on that man, of whose power he was ever apprehensive. Thus, in his presence he would pleasantly and affably call him “earl:” when he was absent, he would vilify him, and would deprive him, clandestinely, of such portions of his estates as he was able. Robert, too, artfully eluding his duplicity, disguised his feelings, and allowing the king to depart peaceably to his kingdom, continued in Normandy, intent on his own concerns. Wherefore while Stephen, perplexed by many commotions in England, and first attacking one, and then another, justly verified, what was said of Ishmael, “That the hands of all were against him, and his hand against all,” Robert passed that whole year in Normandy in perfect quiet. The king pointedly, as it is reported, used frequently to say of his rebellious subjects, “Since they have elected me king, why do they desert me? By the birth of God, I will never be called a fallen king!” Robert, placed, as it were, on an eminence, watched the event of circumstances, and earnestly revolved how he might escape, before God and man, the imputation of falsifying the oath he had sworn to his sister.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1139.] TROUBLES IN ENGLAND.]

In the year of our Lord 1138, England was shaken with intestine commotions. For many persons, emboldened to illegal acts, either by nobility of descent or by ambition, or rather by unbridled heat of youth, were not ashamed, some to demand castles, others estates, and indeed whatever came into their fancy, from the king. When he delayed complying with their requests, alleging the dismemberment of his kingdom, or that others would make similar claims, or were already in possession of them; they, becoming enraged immediately, fortified their castles against him, and drove away large booties from his lands. Nor, indeed, was his spirit at all broken by the revolt of any, but attacking them suddenly in different places, he always concluded matters more to his own disadvantage than to theirs; for, after many great but fruitless labours, he gained from them, by the grant of honours or castles, a peace, feigned only for a time. He created likewise many earls,[554] where there had been none before, appropriating to them possessions and rents, which rightfully belonged to the crown. They were the more greedy in asking, and he the more profuse in giving, because a rumour was pervading England, that Robert earl of Gloucester, who was in Normandy, would shortly espouse the cause of his sister, after first renouncing his fealty to the king. This report was in fact well-founded: for shortly after Pentecost, despatching some of his people to Stephen from Normandy, he, according to ancient usage, renounced his fealty and friendship, and disannulled his homage; assigning as a just reason for so doing, that the king had illegally aspired to the kingdom, and neglected his plighted faith to him, not to say absolutely belied it: and, moreover, that he himself had acted contrary to law; who, after the oath sworn to his sister, had not blushed to do homage to another, during her lifetime. Doubtless also his mind was biassed by the answers of many ecclesiastics, whom he had consulted upon the subject; who declared that he could by no means pass the present life without ignominy, nor deserve the happiness of the next, if he violated the oath made to paternal affection. In addition to this, he contemplated the tenor of the papal decree, commanding obedience to the oath taken in the presence of his father: a copy of which decree I shall be careful to give in my next book. Robert, who had imbibed knowledge by a copious draught from the fount of science, was aware that these things would be of great advantage to him hereafter. But the king, indignant at the spirit of the earl, deprived him, as far as he was able, of all his possessions in England; and levelled some of his castles to the ground. Bristol alone remained, which not only expelled the enemy, but even harassed the king by frequent incursions. But as it may suffice to have brought the first book of modern history, from the return of the empress to her father after the death of her husband, to this period, I shall now begin the second, from the year in which this heroine came to England, to assert her right against Stephen.

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Book II

In the year 1139, the venom of malice, which had long been nurtured in the breast of Stephen, at length openly burst forth. Rumours were prevalent in England, that earl Robert was on the very eve of coming from Normandy with his sister: and, when under such an expectation, many persons revolted from the king, not only in inclination but in deed, he avenged himself for this injury, at the cost of numbers. He, also, contrary to the royal character, seized many at court, through mere suspicion of hostility to him, and obliged them to surrender their castles, and accede to any conditions he prescribed. There were, at that time, two very powerful bishops, in England, Roger of Salisbury, and his fraternal nephew, Alexander of Lincoln. Alexander had built the castle of Newark, as he said, for the defence and dignity of the bishopric. Roger, who wished to manifest his magnificence by building, had erected extensive castles at Sherborne, and more especially at Devizes. At Malmesbury, even in the church-yard, and scarcely a stone’s throw from the principal church, he had begun a castle. He had gotten into his custody the castle of Salisbury, which being royal property, he had obtained from king Henry, and surrounded with a wall. Some powerful laymen, hurt at the probability of being surpassed by the clergy, in extent of riches and magnitude of their towns, took offence at this, and fostered the latent wound of envy in their bosoms. Wherefore they poured forth their imagined grievances to the king; observing, that the bishops, regardless of their order, were mad for erecting castles: that none could doubt, but that they were designed for the overthrow of the king; for, as soon as the empress should arrive, they would, induced doubtless by the recollection of her father’s kindness to them, immediately greet their sovereign with the surrender of their fortresses: that, therefore they ought to be prevented, and compelled to give up their strong holds; otherwise the king would repent too late, when he saw in the power of the enemy, that which, had he been wise, he might have applied to his own purpose. Such were the frequent insinuations of the nobility. The king, though far too partial to them, for some time pretended not to listen to what gratified his ear so much; assuaging the bitterness of delay, either by his respect for the piety of the bishops, or, as I rather think, from apprehension of the odium he might incur, by seizing their castles. Finally, he only postponed the execution of what the nobles had urged him to, till an opportunity presented itself for his purpose: which was as follows.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1139.] COUNCIL AT OXFORD.]

A great assembly of the nobles being held at Oxford about the eighth before the kalends of July, the prelates above-mentioned also repaired thither. The bishop of Salisbury set out on this expedition with great reluctance; for I heard him speaking to the following purport: “By my lady St. Mary, I know not why, but my heart revolts at this journey: this I am sure of, that I shall be of much the same service at court, as a foal is in battle:” thus did his mind forbode future evils. Here, as though fortune would seem subservient to the king’s wishes, a quarrel arose between the servants of the bishops and those of Alan, earl of Brittany, about a right to quarters, which had a melancholy termination; as the bishop of Salisbury’s retainers, then sitting at table, left their meal unfinished and rushed to the contest. At first, they contended with reproaches, afterwards with swords. The domestics of Alan were put to flight, and his nephew nearly killed: nor was the victory gained without bloodshed on the bishops’ side; for many were wounded, and one knight[555] even slain. The king, eagerly seizing the opportunity, ordered the bishops to be convened by his old instigators, that they might make satisfaction to his court, as their people had infringed his peace: that this satisfaction should be, the delivery of the keys of their castles, as pledges of their fidelity. Though prepared to make compensation, they hesitated at the surrender of their fortresses; and in consequence, lest they should depart, he ordered them into close confinement. He therefore conducted bishop Roger, unfettered, but the chancellor, the nephew, or as it was reported, more than the nephew,[556] of the bishop, in chains, to Devizes; a castle, erected at great and almost incalculable expense, not, as the prelate himself used to say, for the ornament, but as the real fact is, to the detriment of the church. At the first summons, the castles of Salisbury, Sherborne, and Malmesbury were yielded to the king. Devizes also surrendered at the end of three days, after the bishop had voluntarily enjoined himself abstinence from all food, that, by his personal sufferings, he might subdue the spirit of the bishop of Ely, who had taken possession[557] of it. Nor did the bishop of Lincoln act more perseveringly; for he purchased his liberty by the surrender of his castles of Newark and Sleaford.

This transaction of the king’s gave rise to the expression of many different opinions. Some observed, that the bishops were justly dispossessed of their castles, as they had built them in opposition to the injunction of the canons: they ought to be glad preachers of peace, not builders of houses which might be a refuge for the contrivers of evil. Such was the doctrine enforced with ampler reasons and discourses, by Hugo, archbishop of Rouen: as far as his eloquence extended, the strenuous champion of the king. Others took the opposite side of the question. This party was espoused by Henry, bishop of Winchester, legate of England from the papal see, and brother to king Stephen, as I have said before, whom no fraternal affection, no fear of danger, could turn aside from the path of truth. He spake to this effect: “If the bishops had in anything overpassed the bounds of justice, the judging them did not pertain to the king, but to the ecclesiastical canons: that they ought not to be deprived of any possession but by a public and ecclesiastical council: that the king had not acted from zealous regard to right, but with a view to his own advantage; as he had not restored the castles to the churches, at whose expense, and on whose land they were built, but had delivered them to laymen, and those by no means of religious character.” Though the legate made these declarations not only privately, but publicly also before the king, and urged him to the liberation and restitution of the bishops, yet, being entirely disregarded, he lost his labour. In consequence, deeming it proper to resort to canonical power, he summoned his brother, without delay, to be present at a council he intended to hold at Winchester, on the fourth before the kalends of September.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1139.] COUNCIL AT WINCHESTER.]

On the appointed day, almost all the bishops of England, with Theobald, archbishop of Canterbury, who had succeeded William, came to Winchester. Thurstan, archbishop of York, excused himself, on account of the malady with which he was afflicted; for he was so enfeebled, as to be hardly able to guide his steps: the others apologized for their absence, by letter, on account of the war. The bull of pope Innocent was first read in the council, whereby, even from the kalends of March, if I rightly remember, he had enjoined the administration of his anxious charge to the lord bishop of Winchester, as legate in England. This was received with much good-will, as the bishop had shown his forbearance by the lapse of time, and had not proclaimed himself legate with precipitate vanity. Next followed, in the council, his address, in the Latin tongue, directed to the learned, on the disgraceful detention of the bishops: “of whom the bishop of Salisbury had been seized in a chamber of the palace, Lincoln in his lodgings, and Ely, fearing a similar treatment, had escaped the calamity by a hasty retreat to Devizes:” he observed, “that it was a dreadful crime, that the king should be so led away by sinister persons, as to have ordered violent hands to be laid on his subjects, more especially bishops, in the security of his court: that, to the king’s disgrace was to be added the offence against God, in despoiling the churches of their possessions, under pretext of the criminality of the prelates: that, the king’s outrage against the law of God, was matter of such pain to him, that he had rather himself suffer grievous injury, both in person and property, than have the episcopal dignity so basely humiliated; moreover, that the king, being repeatedly admonished to amend his fault, had, at last, not refused that the council should be summoned: that therefore, the archbishop and the rest should deliberate what was proper to be done; and he would not be wanting to execute the sentence of the council, either through regard to the friendship of the king, who was his brother, or loss of property, or even danger of life.”

When he had gradually expatiated on these matters, the king, not distrusting his cause, sent certain[558]earls into the council to demand wherefore he was summoned. The legate briefly replied, “that, when he recollected he was in subjection to the faith of Christ, he ought not to be displeased, if, when guilty of a crime, such as the present age had never witnessed, he was required, by the ministers of Christ, to make satisfaction: that it was the act of heathen nations to imprison bishops, and divest them of their possessions: that they should tell his brother, therefore, that if he would deign a patient assent to his advice, he would give him such, by the authority of God, as neither the church of Rome, nor the French king’s court, nor even earl Theobald, their common brother, a man of surpassing sense and piety, could reasonably oppose; but such as they ought favourably to embrace: that, at present, the king would act advisedly, if he would either account for his conduct, or submit to canonical judgment: it was, moreover, a debt he owed, to favour the church, by whose fostering care, not by military force, he had been promoted to the kingdom.” The earls retiring after this speech, returned shortly with an answer prepared. They were accompanied by one Alberic de Ver, a man deeply versed in legal affairs. He related the king’s answer, and aggravated as much as possible the case of bishop Roger, for bishop Alexander had departed; but this he did with moderation, and without using opprobrious language, though some of the earls, standing by, repeatedly interrupted his harangue by casting reproaches on the bishop.

The sum of what Alberic had to allege, was as follows: “That bishop Roger had greatly injured king Stephen; that he seldom came to court, but his people, presuming on his power, excited tumults; that they had, frequently at other places and very lately at Oxford, attacked the attendants, and even the very nephew of earl Alan, as well as the servants of Hervey de Lyons, a man of such high nobility, and so extremely haughty, that he had never deigned to visit England though king Henry had invited him; that the injury, therefore, of such violence having been offered him, doubly recoiled on king Stephen, through respect to whom he had come hither; that the bishop of Lincoln had been the author of the tumult excited by his followers from ancient enmity to Alan; that the bishop of Salisbury secretly favoured the king’s enemies, though he disguised his subtlety for the moment; that the king had discovered this beyond all doubt, from many circumstances, more especially, however, from the said bishop’s having refused permission to Roger de Mortimer with the king’s soldiers whom he was conducting, when under the greatest apprehensions from the garrison of Bristol, to continue even a single night at Malmesbury; that it was in every person’s mouth, that, as soon as the empress should arrive, he would join her party, with his nephews and their castles; that Roger, in consequence, was made captive, not as a bishop but as the king’s servant who had administered his affairs and received his wages; that the king had not taken their castles by violence, but that both bishops had surrendered them voluntarily to escape the punishment due to the disturbance they had excited in the court; that the king had found some trifling sums of money in the castles which must lawfully belong to himself, as bishop Roger had collected it from the revenues of the exchequer in the times of his uncle and predecessor king Henry; that the bishop had readily relinquished this money as well as the castles through consciousness of his offences, of which the king did not want for witnesses; that, therefore, he was willing that the conditions entered into by himself and the bishops should remain in force.”

It was rejoined by bishop Roger, in opposition to the speech of Alberic, that he had never been the minister of king Stephen; nor had he received his wages. This spirited man, too, who blushed at being cast down by adversity, threatened, that if he could not have justice for the property which had been wrested from him, in that council, he would seek it in the audience of a higher court. The legate mildly, as usual, observed that every allegation against the bishops ought to be made and the truth of it inquired into in an ecclesiastical court, before passing sentence, contrary to the canons, on innocent persons; that the king ought therefore to do as was incumbent in civil courts, that is, re-invest the bishops with their own property, otherwise, being disseized, by the law of nations, they will not plead.

Many arguments of this kind being used on both sides, the cause, at the king’s request, was adjourned to the next day; then, on the morrow, prolonged still a day farther till the arrival of the archbishop of Rouen.

When he came, while all were anxious to hear what he had to allege, he said he was willing to allow the bishops their castles if they could prove by the canons that they ought justly to possess them; but as they were not able to do this it was the height of impudence to contend against the canons. “And admitting,” said he, “that it be just for them to possess castles, yet most assuredly, as the times are eventful, all chiefs, after the custom of other nations, ought to deliver up the keys of their fortifications to the will of the king, who is bound to wage war for the common security.” Thus the whole plea of the bishops was shaken: for, either according to the decrees of the canons, it was unjust for them to have castles, or, if that were allowed by the king’s indulgence, they ought to yield to the emergency of the times, and give up the keys.

To this, the aforesaid pleader Alberic added that it had been signified to the king that the bishops muttered among themselves, and had even made preparation for some of their party to proceed to Rome against him. “And this,” said he, “the king advises that none of you presume to do; for if any person shall go from England to any place, in opposition to him and to the dignity of his kingdom, perhaps his return may not be so easy. Moreover, he, as he sees himself aggrieved, of his own accord summons you to Rome.” When the king had sent such a message, partly advising and partly threatening, it was perceived what was his design. In consequence the council broke up, as he would not submit to canonical censure; and the bishops deemed it unadvisable to enforce it against him for two reasons: first, because it was a rash act to excommunicate the king without the knowledge of the pope; secondly, because they understood, or some of them even saw, that swords were unsheathed around them. The contention was no longer of mere words, but nearly for life and for blood. The legate and the archbishop still, however, were anxiously observant of their duty. They humbly prostrated themselves before the king in his chamber, entreating him to take pity on the church, and to consider his soul and his reputation, and that he would not suffer a schism to be made between the empire and the priesthood. Although he in some measure removed the odium of his former conduct, by condescendingly rising to them, yet, prevented by ill advice, he carried none of his fair promises into effect.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1139.] ARRIVAL OF EARL ROBERT.]

The council broke up on the kalends of September; and on the day previous to the kalends of October, earl Robert, having at length surmounted every cause of delay, arrived with the empress his sister in England, relying on the protection of God and the observance of his lawful oath; but with a much smaller military force than any other person would have required for so perilous an enterprise; for he had not with him, at that time, more than one hundred and forty horsemen. My assertion is supported by persons of veracity; and did it not look like flattery, I would say that he was not inferior to Julius Cæsar, at least in resolution, whom Livy[559] relates to have had but five cohorts when he began the civil war, with which he attacked the world; though the comparison between Julius and Robert is invidious. For Julius, an alien to the true faith, reposed his hope on his good fortune, as he used to say, and the valour of his legions; Robert, celebrated for Christian piety, relied only on the assistance of the Holy Spirit and the lady St. Mary. The former had partizans in Gaul, in part of Germany, and Brittany, and had attached to him by means of presents all the Roman people with the exception of the senate; the latter, bating a very few who regarded their plighted oath, found the nobility in England either opposing or affording him no assistance. He landed, then, at Arundel, and for a time delivered his sister into the safe keeping, as he supposed, of her mother-in-law, whom Henry, as I have before related, had taken to his bed on the death of the empress’s mother. Himself proceeded through the hostile country to Bristol, accompanied, as I have heard, by scarcely twelve horsemen, and was joined in the midst of his journey by Brian Fitz-Count of Wallingford. Nor was it long ere he learned that his sister had quitted Arundel; for her mother-in-law, through female inconstancy, had broken the faith she had repeatedly pledged by messages sent into Normandy. The earl, therefore, committed the empress to Henry bishop of Winchester and Waleran earl of Mellent for safe conduct, a favour never denied to the most inveterate enemy by honourable soldiers. Waleran, indeed, declined going farther than Calne, but the bishop continued his route. The earl, therefore, quickly collecting his troops, came to the boundary appointed by the king, and placed his sister in safe quarters at Bristol. She was afterwards received into Gloucester by Milo, who held the castle of that city under the earl in the time of king Henry, doing him homage and swearing fidelity to him; for this is the chief city of his county.

On the nones of October one Robert Fitz-Hubert, a savage barbarian, by night clandestinely entering the castle of Malmesbury, which bishop Rochester had inauspiciously founded, and burning the town, boasted of the deed, as though he had gained a great triumph. But, within a fortnight, his joy was at an end, being put to flight by the king. Stephen, in the meantime, commanded possession to be kept of the castle, until, on the restoration of peace, it might be destroyed. The king, moreover, before he came to Malmesbury, had occupied, and placed a garrison in a small fortress called Cerney, belonging to the aforesaid Milo. In consequence, thinking he should be equally successful elsewhere, as at that place and at Malmesbury, he assailed a castle called Trowbridge, belonging to Humphrey de Bohun, who was of the empress’s party, but he departed without success.

The whole country then around Gloucester to the extremity of Wales, partly by force, and partly by favour, in the course of the remaining months of that year, gradually espoused the party of their sovereign the empress. The owners of certain castles, securing themselves within their fastnesses, waited the issue of events. The city of Hereford was taken without difficulty; and a few soldiers, who determined on resistance, had thrown themselves into the castle, were blocked up. The king drew nigh, if possible, to devise means for their assistance; but frustrated in his wishes, he retired with disgrace. He also approached Bristol, and going beyond it, burnt the neighbourhood around Dunstore, leaving nothing, as far as he was able, which could minister food to his enemies, or advantage to any one.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1139.] BISHOP OF SALISBURY’S DEATH.]

On the third before the ides of December, Roger bishop of Salisbury, by the kindness of death, escaped the quartan ague which had long afflicted him. They assert that his sickness was brought upon him through grief at the severe and repeated injuries he had received from king Stephen. To me it appears, that God exhibited him to the wealthy as an example of the mutability of fortune, in order that they should not trust in uncertain riches, which, as the apostle says, “while some have coveted, concerning faith have made shipwreck.” He first ingratiated himself with prince Henry, who became afterwards king, by his prudence in the management of domestic matters, and by restraining the excesses of his household. For, before his accession, Henry had been careful and economical in his expenses, compelled thereto by the scantiness of his resources, and the illiberal treatment of his brothers, William and Robert. Knowing his disposition this way, Roger had deserved so well of him in his time of need, that, when he came to the throne, he denied him scarcely any thing he thought proper to ask; gave him estates, churches, prebends, entire abbeys of monks, and, lastly, committed even the kingdom to his fidelity: made him chancellor, in the beginning of his reign, and not long after, bishop of Salisbury. Roger, therefore decided causes; he regulated the expenditure; he had charge of the treasury. Such were his occupations when the king was in England: such, without associate or inspector, when he resided in Normandy; which took place repeatedly, and for a long time together. And not only the king, but the nobility, even those who were secretly stung with envy at his good fortune, and more especially the ministers and debtors of the king, gave him almost whatever he could fancy. Was there any thing contiguous to his property which might be advantageous to him, he would directly extort it, either by entreaty or purchase; or, if that failed, by force. With unrivalled magnificence in their construction, as our times may recollect, he erected splendid mansions on all his estates; in merely maintaining which, the labour of his successors shall toil in vain. His cathedral he dignified to the utmost with matchless ornaments and buildings on which no expense was spared. It was truly wonderful to behold in this man, what abundant power attended him in every kind of dignity, and flowed as it were to his hand. How great was the glory, indeed, what could exceed it, that he should have made his two nephews, by virtue of his education, men of noted learning and industry, bishops; and, not of mean sees; but of Lincoln and Ely, than which, I know not whether there be more opulent in England? He was sensible of his power, and, somewhat more harshly than became such a character, abused the favours of heaven. Lastly, as a certain poet observes of a rich man,[560]

“He builds, destroys, and changes square for round,”

so Roger attempted to turn abbeys into bishoprics, and bishoprics into abbeys. The most ancient monasteries of Malmesbury and Abbotsbury, he annexed, as far as he was able, to his see. He changed the priory of Sherborne, which is subject to the bishop of Salisbury, into an abbey; and the abbey of Hortun was forthwith dissolved and united to it. These events took place in the time of king Henry, under whom, as I have observed, his prosperity reached its zenith: for under Stephen, as I have before related, it began to decline; except that in the beginning of his reign, he obtained for one of his nephews, the chancellorship; for the other the office of treasurer; and for himself the town of Malmesbury; the king repeating often to his companions, “By the birth of God, I would give him half England, if he asked for it: till the time be ripe, he shall tire of asking, ere I tire of giving.” But fortune, who, in former times, had flattered him so long and so transcendently, at last cruelly pierced him with scorpion-sting. Such was that instance, when he saw those whom he dearly regarded, wounded; and his most favoured knight killed before his face; the next day, himself, and, as I said before, his nephews, very powerful bishops, the one compelled to fly, the other detained, and the third, a young man to whom he was greatly attached, bound with chains: on the surrender of his castles, his treasures pillaged, and himself afterwards, in the council, loaded with the most disgraceful reproaches. Finally, as he was nearly breathing his latest sigh, at Salisbury, the residue of his money and utensils, which he had placed upon the altar for the purpose of completing the church, was carried off against his will. The height of his calamity, was, I think, a circumstance which even I cannot help commiserating; that, though he appeared wretched to many, yet there were very few who pitied him: so much envy and hatred had his excessive power drawn on him, and undeservedly, too, from some of those very persons whom he had advanced to honour.

In the year of the Incarnate Word 1140, the monks of those abbeys which Roger had unjustifiably usurped, waiting on the king, were permitted to enjoy their ancient privileges, and abbats, as formerly. John, a monk of that place, a man highly celebrated for the affability of his manners and the liberality of his mind, was elected abbat of Malmesbury by the monks, according to the tenor of the privilege which St. Aldhelm had obtained from pope Sergius four hundred and sixty-six years before, and had caused to be confirmed by the kings, Ina of the West Saxons, and Ethelred of the Mercians. The legate approved the claim, but disapproved of the person: for he could not be induced to believe that the king had consented to the election but by a gift in money. And, indeed, a small sum had been promised, on the score of liberating the church, not for the election of the person. Wherefore John, though taken off by a premature death within the year, still left a lasting and laudable memory of himself to all succeeding ages. For no monk of that place, I confess the truth, would have pursued a task of such difficulty, had not John begun it. Wherefore let his successors be praised, if they shall preserve the liberty of that church; he certainly rescued it from thraldom.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1140.] DISTRESSED STATE OF ENGLAND.]

The whole of this year was embittered by the horrors of war. There were many castles throughout England, each defending their neighbourhood, but, more properly speaking, laying it waste. The garrisons drove off from the fields, both sheep and cattle, nor did they abstain either from churches or church-yards. Seizing such of the country vavassours[561] as were reputed to be possessed of money, they compelled them, by extreme torture, to promise whatever they thought fit. Plundering the houses of the wretched husbandmen, even to their very beds, they cast them into prison; nor did they liberate them, but on their giving every thing they possessed or could by any means scrape together, for their release. Many calmly expired in the midst of torments inflicted to compel them to ransom themselves, bewailing, which was all they could do, their miseries to God. And, indeed, at the instance of the earl, the legate, with the bishops, repeatedly excommunicated all violators of church-yards and plunderers of churches, and those who laid violent hands on men in holy or monastic orders, or their servants: but this his attention profited but little. It was distressing, therefore, to see England, once the fondest cherisher of peace and the single receptacle of tranquillity, reduced to such a pitch of misery, that, not even the bishops, nor monks, could pass in safety from one town to another. Under king Henry, many foreigners, who had been driven from home by the commotions of their native land, were accustomed to resort to England, and rest in quiet under his fostering protection: in Stephen’s time, numbers of freebooters from Flanders and Brittany flocked to England, in expectation of rich pillage. Meanwhile, the earl of Gloucester conducted himself with caution, and his most earnest endeavours were directed to gaining conquests with the smaller loss to his adherents. Such of the English nobility as he could not prevail upon to regard the obligation of their oath, he held it sufficient if he could so restrain, that, if they did not assist, they would not injure the cause: being willing, according to the saying of the comic writer, “To do what he could, when he could not do what he would.” But when he saw the opportunity present itself, he strenuously performed the duty both of soldier and of general; more especially, he valiantly subdued those strong holds, which were of signal detriment to the cause he had espoused; that is to say, Harpetrey, which king Stephen had taken from certain soldiers of the earl before he came to England, and many others; Sudley, Cerney, which the king had garrisoned, as I have said; and the castle which Stephen had fortified over against Wallingford, he levelled to the ground. He also, in these difficult times, created his brother Rainald, earl of Cornwall. Nor indeed did the king show less spirit in performing the duties of his station; for he omitted no occasion of repeatedly beating off his adversaries, and defending his own possessions. But he failed of success, and all things declined, for lack of justice. Dearth of provisions, too, increased by degrees, and the scarcity of good money was so great, from its being counterfeited, that, sometimes out of ten or more shillings, hardly a dozen pence would be received. The king himself was reported to have ordered the weight of the penny, as established in king Henry’s time, to be reduced, because, having exhausted the vast treasures of his predecessor, he was unable to provide for the expense of so many soldiers. All things, then, became venal in England; and churches and abbeys were no longer secretly, but even publicly exposed to sale.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1140.] ROBERT FITZ-HUBERT.]

During this year, in Lent, on the thirteenth before the kalends of April, at the ninth hour of the fourth day of the week, there was an eclipse, throughout England, as I have heard. With us, indeed, and with all our neighbours, the obscuration of the sun was so remarkable, that persons sitting at table, as it then happened almost every where, for it was Lent, at first feared that chaos was come again: afterwards learning its cause, they went out, and beheld the stars around the sun. It was thought and said by many, not untruly, that the king would not continue a year in the government.

In the following week, that is, during the time of the Passion, on the seventh before the kalends of April, the forementioned barbarian, Robert Fitz-Hubert, a character well calculated for the stratagems of war, surprised the castle of Devizes:[562] a man, by far the most cruel of any within the circle of this age’s memory: blasphemous, also, towards God. He used voluntarily to boast of having been present at a place where twenty-four monks were burnt, together with the church, declaring, that he too would frequently do the like in England, and grieve God, by the plunder of the church of Wilton; and the destruction of Malmesbury, with the slaughter of all its monks: that he would return them this good office, because they had admitted the king, to his disadvantage: for of this he accused them, though without foundation. I myself have heard, when, at any time, which was extremely rare indeed, he liberated his captives without torture, and they thanked him for it, on the part of God, I have heard him, I say, reply; “never let God owe me any thanks.” He used to expose his prisoners, naked and rubbed with honey, to the burning heat of the sun; thereby exciting flies, and other insects of that kind, to sting them. But, having now got possession of Devizes, he hesitated not to boast, that, he should gain, by means of this castle, the whole district from Winchester to London; and that he would send to Flanders for soldiers to defend him. While meditating, however, such a scheme, divine vengeance overtook him through the agency of one John Fitz-Gilbert, a man of surprising subtlety, who had a castle at Marlborough. For being thrown into chains by him, because he refused to surrender Devizes to his sovereign, the empress, he was hanged, like a common thief. Wonderful was the judgment of God on this sacrilegious wretch, that he should meet with such an ignominious end, not from the king, to whom he was inimical, but from the very persons he appeared to favour. The authors of his death ought worthily to be extolled, for having freed the country from such a pest, and justly despatched an intestine enemy.

In the same year, during Pentecost, the king resided at London, in the Tower, attended only by the bishop of Sees, for the others disdained, or feared, to come thither. Some little time after, by the mediation of the legate, a conference was appointed between the empress and the king, that, if possible, by the inspiration of God, peace might be restored. To this conference, near Bath, were sent on the part of the empress, her brother Robert, and others of her friends: on the king’s, the legate, the archbishop, and also the queen. But they wasted words and time, to no purpose, and departed without being able to conclude a peace. Nor was the ground of separation equal on both sides, as the empress, more inclined to justice, had declared, that she was not averse to the decision of the church: but the king most cautiously avoided this; fondly trusting to the counsels of those persons who loved nothing less than peace, so long as they could make their ascendency over him answer their own purposes. In the latter end of September, the legate, who knew that it was the especial duty of his office to restore peace, undertaking the toil of a foreign voyage for its accomplishment, hastened to sail over to France. Here, a long and anxious discussion, for tranquillizing England, taking place, between the king of France, earl Theobald, and many of the clergy, he returned, nearly at the end of November, bringing back counsels wholesome for the country, could they have been carried into effect. And indeed the empress and the earl assented to them immediately, but the king delayed from day to day, and finally rejected them altogether. Upon this, at last, the legate discontinued his exertions, waiting, like the rest, for the issue of events: for what avails it to swim against the stream? and, as some one observes, “To seek odium only by one’s labours is the height of madness.”

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