NOTE K. p. 124.
Danegeld and Heregeld.
It can hardly be doubted that the original meaning of the word Denagyld must have been money paid to the Danes to buy them off, a practice of which I need not multiply instances during the reign of Æthelred. But it so happens that the word itself does not occur till much later times. As far as I know, the single appearance of the word in Domesday (336 b) is the earliest instance. It occurs also in the so-called Laws of Eadward, c. 11 (Schmid, 496), in the Laws of Henry the First, first in the Charter of London (Schmid, 434) and afterwards in c. 15 (Schmid, 446). There are also well known passages in Bromton (942, 957) and the Dialogus de Scaccario, (ap. Madox, Exchequer, p. 27). In all these passages, (except perhaps in that of Bromton, who calls it “tallagium datum Danis,”) the Danegeld is described as a tax levied, not to buy off Danes, but to hire mercenaries, whether Danes or others, to resist them. Thus in the “Laws of Eadward” the description given is as follows;
“Denegeldi redditio propter piratas primitùs statuta est. Patriam enim infestantes, vastationi ejus pro posse suo insistebant; sed ad eorum insolentiam reprimendam statutum est Denegeldum annuatim reddendum; i. e. duodecim denarios de unâque hidâ totius patriæ, ad conducendos eos, qui piratarum irruptioni resistendo obviarent.”
The description in the Laws of Henry (Schmid, 446) is more remarkable, as it distinctly connects the Danegeld with the famous force established by Cnut. “Denagildum, quod aliquando þingemannis dabatur.”
But it is plain, from the passage with which we are concerned in the text, and from the other passage in the Peterborough Chronicle (1040) describing the payment to Harthacnut’s fleet in 1041, that the formal name for a tax levied for the payment of soldiers or sailors was Heregyld, Heregeold, Heregeld. I conceive that Denagyld was a popular name of dislike, which was originally applied to the payments made to buy off the Danes, and which was thence transferred to these other payments made to Danish and other mercenary troops, from the time of Thurkill onwards. This would account for the name not occurring in any early Chronicle or document.
It is commonly assumed, with great probability but without direct proof, that the Danegeld of Domesday is the same as the “mycel gyld” recorded in the Peterborough Chronicle to have been laid on by William in the winter Gemót of 1083–1084. This is looked on as the revival of the tax now taken off by Eadward. Yet it would be strange if no taxes at all for the support of warlike forces of any kind were levied between 1051 and 1083. The Housecarls certainly continued; we hear of them by name, besides Florence’s mention of “stipendiarii et mercenarii” in 1066. Are we to infer that the Housecarls were henceforth maintained out of the ordinary royal revenues, or, what seems more likely, that the tax now remitted related wholly to the fleet?
While on the subject of Danegeld, I may mention that the Liber de Hydâ contains a document purporting to be the Will of King Eadred, which, if genuine, shows that the possibility of a payment to the Danes was contemplated even in his time. The document is given in Old-English, with a later English and a Latin translation; but it is curious enough that, in the two latter versions, the passage is left out. In the Old-English text it stands thus (p. 153);
“Þænne an he his sayla to anliesnesse, and his deodscipe to þearfe, sixtyne hund punda, to þan ðæt hi mege magan hu[n]gor, and hæþenne here him fram aceapian gif hie beþurfen.”
The language seems to be corrupt, but the meaning can hardly be doubted.
See also on Danegeld, Pegge’s Short Account of Danegeld (London 1756) and Ellis, i. 350, 351.
NOTE L. p. 131.
The Banishment of Godwine.
Of the events which led to the banishment of Godwine and his sons we have three original narratives. The Worcester and Peterborough Chronicles give accounts which at first sight seem to be widely different, and the Life of Eadward contains another account which seems to be still more widely different from either of the others. The narrative in Florence is mainly founded on that in the Worcester Chronicle, while William of Malmesbury, as in many other cases, plainly had the Peterborough Chronicle before him. These Latin writers serve in some cases to explain and illustrate their English originals, while in other places they have curiously mistaken their meaning. When, fifteen years back, I wrote my papers on the Life and Death of Godwine in the Archæological Journal (vol. xii. p. 48), I thought that there was a wide difference between the accounts of the two Chroniclers, and that a choice had to be made between them. I now think that there is little or no discrepancy as to the facts. The main difference is that in the Worcester narrative there are many omissions, which are supplied by the Peterborough writer. There is also, as usual, a marked difference in tone. The Peterborough writer is here, as ever, a devoted partizan of Godwine, and he carefully brings into prominence every circumstance which can tell in his favour. The Worcester writer, without showing the least feeling against the Earl, is not so strongly committed to his side. The curious result is that the Normannizing William of Malmesbury, following the Peterborough version, gives a more strongly Godwinist account than our English Florence. Also, since my former papers were written, the contemporary Life of Eadward has come to light. The Biographer’s account is very singular. As usual, his rhetorical way of dealing with everything, and the necessity under which he felt himself of justifying both Eadward and Godwine, hamper him a good deal in his story. He also gives an account of the origin of the dispute, which is quite different from that mentioned in the Chronicles, and which yet is in no way inconsistent with it. He agrees with the Chroniclers in the main facts as to places and persons, and he adds, especially towards the end, some of those minute touches which increase one’s confidence in the writer, as they seem to come from personal knowledge. The chief difference between him and the Chroniclers is the difference inevitably involved in their several positions. The Chroniclers were monks, writing in their monasteries for the edification of their brethren. They might err through ignorance, they might exaggerate through party spirit; but they had no temptation to win anybody’s favour by wilful omissions or perversions. The Biographer, with far better means of knowing the exact truth, laboured under all the difficulties of a courtier. He had to please one who was at once the daughter of Godwine, the widow of Eadward, the sister of Harold, and the favoured subject of William.
The two Chroniclers agree in making the outrages of Eustace at Dover the main cause of the dispute. The Peterborough writer adds, as a collateral cause, the misconduct of the Frenchmen in Herefordshire. There is here no inconsistency, but simply an omission on the part of the Worcester writer. And, after all, the Worcester writer, though he does not directly tell the Herefordshire story, yet incidentally shows his knowledge of it, both in his present narrative (see p. 142, note 5, where I have mentioned the singular mistake of Florence) and in his entry of the next year (see p. 311). The Biographer says nothing about either Eustace or Herefordshire; he speaks only of a revival of the old calumnies by Archbishop Robert. Of this last cause the Chroniclers say nothing. But there is no real inconsistency between these accounts. Nothing is more likely than that Robert would seize such an opportunity again to poison the King’s mind against Godwine. But these private dealings in the royal closet would be much more likely to be known, and to seem of great importance, to a courtier and royal chaplain than to men who were watching the course of public affairs from a distance. And we must not forget that, when the Biographer wrote, Robert was dead and had no one to speak for him, while Eustace and Osbern of Herefordshire were high in William’s, therefore probably in Eadgyth’s, favour. It might therefore be inconvenient to enlarge too fully on their misdeeds. The Biographer in short reports the intrigues of the court, while the Chroniclers record the history of the nation. I accept his account, not as an alternative, but as a supplement, to the account in the Chronicles, and I have accordingly worked in his details into my own narrative. As to the broad facts of the story, the meeting at Gloucester, the presence of the great Earls, and the adjournment to London, all our witnesses agree.
One great apparent discrepancy between the two Chroniclers at the very outset of the story, is, I am now convinced, merely apparent. As we read the tale in Florence (1051), the violent conduct of Eustace took place immediately upon his landing at Dover (“Eustatius ... paucis Doruverniam applicuit navibus; in quâ milites ejus ... unum è civibus peremerunt," &c.). Now it is impossible to reject the clear and detailed story of the Peterborough writer, according to which the affair took place, not on Eustace’s landing, but on his return from the court at Gloucester. It now seems to me that there is here simply an omission on the part of the Worcester writer, and that Florence was misled by his expression, “on þam ylcan geare com Eustatius up æt Doferan,” &c. Taken alone, this would certainly give one the idea which it seems to have given Florence, but, with the fuller light of the Peterborough narrative, we may fairly take it the other way. If this explanation be not accepted, there can be no doubt that the Peterborough story is the one to be followed. But it must be remembered that, if any one chooses to accept Florence’s story, the case of Godwine and his clients is thereby made still stronger. As Florence tells the tale, the men of Dover were not simply resisting an act of violence done within the Kingdom; they were resisting what would seem to them to be an actual foreign invasion.
In the narrative of the events in Gloucestershire each of the Chronicles fills up gaps in the other. The Worcester writer leaves out Eadward’s command, and Godwine’s refusal, to subject Dover to military chastisement. On this point the Peterborough writer is naturally emphatic, and this part of the story seems to have awakened a deep sympathy in his copyist William of Malmesbury. Worcester also leaves out the King’s summons to the Witan, so that Godwine seems to levy his forces at once, as soon as he hears of the behaviour of Eustace. A quite different colour is thus given to the story, but it is merely by omission, not by contradiction. On the other hand Peterborough leaves out, what we cannot doubt to be authentic, Godwine’s demand for the surrender of Eustace and the other Frenchmen, and his threat of war in case of refusal. In fact the Worcester writer seems to dwell as much as he can on the warlike, and the Peterborough writer on the peaceful, side of the story. But the particular facts on which each insists are in no way contradictory, and I accept both. The Biographer confirms the Peterborough statement of a summons to the Witan, only he leaves out all the warlike part, and tells us of Godwine’s offer to renew his compurgation. This last fact is not mentioned by either Chronicler, but it does not contradict either of them. The mediation on both sides is mentioned in both Chronicles; the personal intervention of Leofric comes from Florence, but it is eminently in character. I was puzzled fourteen years back at finding what appeared in one account as an Assembly of the Witan, described in the other as a gathering of armies. I did not then realize so well as I do now that in those days an army and a Witenagemót were very nearly the same thing.
In the account of the adjourned Gemót in London, or perhaps rather under its walls, there are a good many difficulties, but no distinct contradictions. The Peterborough narrative is still the fuller of the two, and that which seemingly pays more regard to the strict order of events. The Biographer tells the story from his own special point of view, and helps us to several valuable personal notices of Stigand, Robert, and Godwine himself. His great object is to represent Godwine, no doubt with a good deal of exaggeration, as a model of submissive loyalty towards Eadward. It is too much when he tells us (p. 402), how the Earl “legationes mittens petiit ne præjudicium innocentiæ suæ inferretur à Rege, agebatque se in omnibus modis paratum ad satisfaciendum Regi, et cum jure et ultra jus, ad nutum voluntatis suæ.” On one small point we find a good instance of the way in which one authority fills up gaps in another. The Worcester Chronicle tells us that, when the Gemót was summoned to London, Godwine went to Southwark. Why to Southwark? It is easy to answer that it was a convenient spot, as being at once in his own Earldom and yet close to the place appointed for holding the Gemót (on Southwark and its relation to Godwine as Earl, see Domesday, 32). But the Biographer helps us to a still closer connexion between Godwine and Southwark (p. 402); “Dux quoque insons et fidens de propriâ conscientiâ semper immuni à tanto scelere, è diverso adveniens cum suis, assederat extra civitatis ejusdem flumen Temesin, loco mansionis propriæ.” So it is from the Peterborough and Worcester Chronicles put together that we see that Eadward summoned forces of two kinds, both fyrd and here (see p. 147), to his help at the London Gemót. The Worcester Chronicler says, “And man bead þa folce þider ut ofer ealne þisne norð ende, on Siwardes eorldome and on Leofrices and eac elles gehwær.” Here is the fyrd of the Northern Earldoms and something else. The last words, not being very clear, are slurred over in the version of Florence; “Rex vero de totâ Merciâ et Northhymbriâ copiosiorem exercitum congregavit et secum Lundoniam duxit.” But Peterborough tells us more; “And het se cyning bannan út here, ægðer ge be suðan Temese ge be norðan eall þa æfre betst wæs.” The fyrd of the North came, and the King’s comitatus, the “best men,” were also summoned, in virtue of their personal obligations, even within Godwine’s Earldom. But the fyrd of Wessex was, at first at least, on the side of its own Earl; for the Worcester writer says that Godwine came to Southwark “and micel mænegeo mid heom of Westsæxum.” He also directly after calls the King’s force here; Godwine and his force come to meet the King “and þone here þe him mid wæs.”
The main difficulty in this part of the story arises from an expression of each Chronicler about the surrender to the King of certain Thegns who were in the hands of Godwine or Harold. The first stage of the discussion in the Worcester Chronicle stands thus, “And man borh fæste þam kyninge ealle þa þegnas þe wæron Haroldes Eorles his [Godwine’s] suna.” In the Peterborough account, Godwine first demands hostages and a safe-conduct; then follows, “Ða gyrnde se cyng ealra þæra þegna þe þa eorlas ær hæfdon, and hi letan hi ealle him to hande.” Then the King again summons Godwine to come with twelve companions only, and Godwine again demands hostages and a safe-conduct. One would think that the transactions spoken of in two Chronicles must be the same; but, if so, the Worcester writer must have placed the demand for these Thegns out of its proper order, as he makes it come before the renewed outlawry of Swegen, which it clearly followed. And who were these Thegns? I once thought, with Mr. Kemble (Saxons in England, ii. 231), that they were the hostages who had been given to Godwine at the Gloucester Gemót. This would give an excellent meaning. Godwine has already received hostages, as leader of one of the two great parties who are recognized as equally in the King’s favour. He now demands further hostages for his own personal safety. The King, instead of granting them, demands the restoration of the former hostages. But, had this been the meaning, they could hardly fail to have been spoken of by the regular name gislas. Who then were the Thegns spoken of? I can hardly fancy that Godwine and Harold surrendered all their own personal Thegns, the members of their own comitatus. This seems to have been the notion of William of Malmesbury, though his account is very confused. The Earls are bidden “ut duodecim solùm homines adducerent; servitium militum, quos per Angliam habebant, Regi contraderent.” (So Lappenberg, p. 509 of the German original, Thorpe, ii. 249.) But surely such a surrender is improbable in itself, and it is hardly consistent with the licence to bring twelve companions, which implies that, after the surrender, they had still some comitatus left. I am therefore driven to suppose that some of the King’s Thegns within the Earldoms of Godwine and Harold had, notwithstanding the King’s summons, followed the Earls, that these Thegns were now called on to join the King, and that the Earls put no hindrance in their way.
It is curious, after reading William of Malmesbury’s account of all these matters, grounded on the patriotic Peterborough Chronicle, to turn to the passage quoted in a former note (p. 543) where he speaks of Godwine and his sons as banished on account of their sacrilege and other wickedness.
NOTE M. p. 174.
The Surnames of William.
It has been pointed out by more writers than one that a certain amount of confusion is involved in the familiar description of the great King-Duke as William the Conqueror. He is not often called “Conquæstor” by writers of or near his own time. Moreover, “Conquæstor” hardly means “Conqueror” in the common use of that word, but rather “Acquirer,” or “Purchaser,” in the wider legal sense of the word “purchase.” A former colleague of mine in the Oxford Schools always made a point of describing him as “William the Purchaser.” But the title of William the Conqueror, even as commonly understood, is so familiar, so true, and so convenient, that I have not the least wish to interfere with its use.
As far as I can see, he was known to his contemporaries as William the Bastard, and was, after his death, distinguished from his successor by the name of William the Great. The title of Bastard indeed stuck so close to him that some writers, who could hardly have known what it meant, seem almost to have taken it for his real name. Even Adam of Bremen, who certainly knew its meaning, uses it almost as a proper name. He introduces William (iii. 51) as “Willehelmus, cui pro obliquo sanguine cognomen est Bastardus,” and goes on to speak of “Bastardus victor,” and (c. 53) to say how “inter Suein et Bastardum perpetua contentio de Angliâ fuit.” So Marianus Scotus, a. 1089 (Pertz, v. 559), talks of “Willihelmus, qui et Bastart;” Lambert of Saint Omer (Pertz, v. 65) says, “Terra Anglorum expugnata est a Willelmo Notho Bastart;” and most curiously of all, Lambert of Herzfeld, a. 1074 (Pertz, v. 216), calls him “Willehelmus, cognomento Bostar, Rex Anglorum.” In our own Worcester Chronicle, a. 1066, he appears as “Wyllelm Bastard,” and in Olaf Tryggwasson’s Saga (p. 263), as “Vilialmur Bastardur Rudu Jarl.” So in Orderic (663 C), “Guillelmus Nothus.” So in the Annales Formoselenses (Pertz, v. 36), “Willelmus Bastardus invasit regnum Anglorum.” One writer (Chron. Gaufredi Vosiensis, Labbe, iii. 284) for “Bastard” uses the equivalent word “Mamzer”—“Normannorum Ducis filius Mamzer Guillelmus.”
It has been often said that William himself used the description in formal documents. This assertion rests on very slight authority. There is a charter in Gale’s Registrum Honoris de Richmond, p. 225 (a reference for which I have to thank Professor Stubbs), beginning “Ego Willielmus, cognomento Bastardus, Rex Angliæ.” But it seems to me to be palpably spurious, and those who accept it allow it to be unique.
The other title may be seen growing from the vaguer form of “the great William” to the more distinct “William the Great.” We read in a charter of William Rufus (Rymer, i. 5), “Ego Willelmus, Dei gratiâ, Rex Anglorum, filius magni Regis Willelmi.” So Eadmer (lib. iii. 57. Selden), “quando ille magnus Willielmus hanc terram primò devicit:” so William of Jumièges (vii. 16; cf. his description of Robert, vii. 1; see vol. i. p. 529), “Willelmus Dux magnus:” so the Ely History (ii. 41), “deditio Wilhelmi Regis magni.” But we find more distinctly in Orderic (706 C), “Henricus Guillelmi Magni Regis Anglorum filius,” and still more distinctly in William of Malmesbury (Prol. in lib. iv.), “Willelmus filius Willelmi Magni,” and in Æthelred of Rievaux (X Scriptt. 393), “Vixit autem ad Willielmi Magni tempora.”
The earliest instance, as far as I know, of “Conquæstor” is in Orderic (603 A), who joins it with “Magnus”—“Guillelmus Magnus, id est Conquæstor, Rex Anglorum.” One of the foreign writers quoted above (Chron. Gaufredi Vosiensis, Labbe, iii. 293) comes still nearer to the modern idea. William Rufus is “Guillelmus filius magni Triumphatoris Guillelmi;” and elsewhere (284) he speaks of “Triumphator ille Guillelmus Mamzer.”
NOTE N. p. 177.
The Birth of William.
Several questions arise out of the narratives, historical and legendary, of the birth of the great William. No one doubts that he was the natural son of Duke Robert, or that he was born at Falaise; but there are several points open to doubt,—
I will discuss these questions in order.
I. I have mentioned in the text, as a curious illustration of English feeling, the story which made William’s mother a descendant of the royal house of England. It will be found at length, with some curious details, in the Winchester Annals of Thomas Rudborne, Anglia Sacra, i. 247. Rudborne professes to get the story from a book called “Chronica Danorum in Angliâ regnantium.” As a piece of chronology and genealogy, the tale is strange enough. The tanner is called Richard, which looks rather as if he were a Frenchman, and he bears the surname of “Saburpyr,” the meaning of which is far from clear. His wife is distinctly said to be a daughter of Eadmund and Ealdgyth. Now Eadmund married Ealdgyth in 1015 (see vol. i. p. 412), and he died before the end of 1016. There is therefore hardly room for the birth of a daughter besides the apparently twin (see vol. i. p. 455) Æthelings, Eadmund and Eadward. Such a daughter must have eloped with the tanner at about the same time of life as Hermês when he stole the cows, and, as the mother of the mother of William, who was born at the latest in 1028, she must have been a grandmother at the age of twelve. William must also, besides being a distant cousin of Eadward, have been also a distant nephew, a fact nowhere else alluded to. In this tale William’s mother is called Helen, perhaps through some similarity of letters with Herleva.
The trade of Herleva’s father seems to be agreed on at all hands. He was a burgess of Falaise and a tanner. So the Chronicle of Saint Maxentius (Labbe, ii. 202); “Robertus Willelmum genuit ex eâ quæ fuit filia pelletarii burgensis.” In the narrative of William of Jumièges, the bastardy of the Conqueror and the calling of his maternal grandfather dawn upon the reader by degrees. He first, when describing Robert’s nomination of William as his successor, simply calls him “Willelmum filium suum, quem unicum apud Falesiam genuerat” (vi. 12). When he speaks of the indignation of the Norman nobles at William’s accession, he is driven to mention his bastardy; “Willelmus enim, ex concubinâ Roberti Ducis, nomine Herlevâ, Fulberti cubicularii Ducis filiâ, natus, nobilibus indigenis, et maximè ex Richardorum prosapiâ natis, despectui erat utpote nothus” (vii. 3). The later dignity of the grandfather is here put forward as a sort of forlorn hope; but when it is necessary to explain the point of the insults offered to William at Alençon, the unsavoury trade of Fulbert at last unavoidably peeps out; “Parentes matris ejus pelliciarii exstiterant” (vii. 18).
It is possible that the word “indigenis” in the second of the extracts just made may be taken to confirm the story according to which Fulbert was not only of a low occupation, but of foreign birth. Besides the English legend, which may possibly contain this small grain of truth, there is a tale in the Chronicle of Alberic “Trium Fontium” (a. 1035, Leibnitz, Accessiones, ii. 66), which is told with great glee by Sir Francis Palgrave (iii. 144). According to this version, Herbert, as he is called, was not a native of Falaise, but came with his wife Doda or Duixa from some place, either Chaumont or Huy (Hoium), in the Bishoprick of Lüttich. This tale however does not represent the tanner’s daughter as the original object of the fancy of Robert. The Count sees the daughter of his provost or bailiff (præpositus) at Falaise dancing, and asks for her; but the lover is made the subject of a trick, and the daughter of the tanner takes the place of the daughter of the bailiff. Here is food for the Comparative Mythologists, as this tale is the same as the tale of Richard and Gunnor, and as one of the legends of our own Eadgar. See vol. i. p. 279.
II. The date of William’s birth has been discussed by M. Deville in the Memoires de la Société des Antiquaires de Normandie, 1837, vol. xi. p. 179, and, after him, by M. Florent Richomme, in a pamphlet published at Falaise under the title of La Naissance de Guillaume-le-Conquérant à Falaise. There is no doubt that William was born in 1027 or 1028; M. Deville endeavours to fix the exact date to June or July, 1027. William was seemingly between seven and eight when Robert set out on his pilgrimage. “Habebat tunc,” says William of Malmesbury (iii. 229), “filium septennem.” So Wace (14360);
The date of Robert’s departure seems to be fixed to January, 1035, by a charter quoted by M. Deville from the Departmental Archives at Rouen. It is granted by Robert on the Ides of January, “quo et Hierusalem petiturus ibi licentiam eundi à Deo et sanctis ejus petii.” But it is argued that William was full eight years old when the news of his father’s death reached Normandy, and when he was accordingly invested with the Duchy. William of Jumièges (vii. 44) calls him “fere sexagenarius, anno ducatûs in Normanniâ LII,” at his death in September, 1087. This puts his birth in 1027, and his accession in 1035. Orderic (459 D) says that, at his accession, “tunc octo annorum erat,” and again (656 C) William is made to call himself at that time, “tenellus puer, utpote octo annorum.” It is therefore inferred that William attained the full age of eight years at some time after his father’s departure, but before his death, or at least before his death was known in Normandy. For this purpose six months or thereabouts is allowed, and it is thus ruled that William was eight years old in June or July, 1035, and was therefore born in June or July, 1027.
I am not fully convinced by these arguments. The expression of William of Jumièges, “ferè sexagenarius,” would seem to imply that William was not fully sixty in September, 1087, and, if he succeeded in July, 1035, he would then be in the fifty-third and not in the fifty-second year of his reign. Orderic indeed (459 D) says that he reigned fifty-three years, but, succeeding in 1035 and dying in 1087, he certainly did not reign fifty-three years full. And Orderic’s chronology is very confused on the matter; in the passage (656 C) where William calls himself eight years old at his accession, he calls himself sixty-four years old at his death (“mala quæ feci per LX quatuor annos”). This would put his birth in 1023, quite contradicting Orderic’s other statement. Moreover the Chronicle of Saint Michael’s Mount (Labbe, i. 348) calls him “septennis” at the time of his accession. It seems to me therefore that it is not safe to attempt to fix the date of William’s birth so minutely as M. Deville does, but that it certainly happened in 1027 or 1028, and more probably in 1027.
M. Deville connects the birth of William with that siege of Falaise which made Robert submit to his brother Richard (see vol. i. p. 517). This, and the death of Richard, he places in August, 1027. But William of Jumièges (vi. 2) distinctly says that Richard died in 1028, after a reign of two years (see vol. i. p. 517). Orderic (459 D), by making Richard reign a year and a half, might agree with M. Deville. Most of the Chronicles however make Richard die in 1026, the year of his accession. See the Chronicles of Fécamp (Labbe, i. 326), of Rouen (i. 366; cf. Duchèsne, 1017 B), of Saint Michael’s Mount (i. 348). The authority of William of Jumièges is no doubt much the highest, but his chronology is inconsistent with M. Deville’s view.
M. Deville has however done good service in bringing prominently forward the fact, which is commonly forgotten, that Robert, at the time of his first amour with Herleva, was not yet Duke of the Normans, but only Count of the Hiesmois, in which character Falaise was his capital. He has also well pointed out his extreme youth. Robert was the second son of Richard and Judith. The marriage contract of Judith, dated in 1008, is given in Martène and Durand’s Thesaurus Novus, i. 123. Robert could therefore hardly have been born before 1010; he could have been only eighteen at the most at the time of the birth of William, and only twenty-five at the time of his pilgrimage and death. His brother Richard, the father of the monk Nicholas, must have been equally precocious. Edward the Third too was only eighteen years older than the Black Prince; but at any rate he was married.
III. That William was born at Falaise all accounts agree; but there is not the faintest authority for placing his birth in the present donjon. M. Deville says that the tradition is a very modern one. A room is shown as that where William “fut engendré et nâquit,” and a sufficiently absurd inscription commemorates the supposed fact. But we have seen (see above, p. 176) that the existing keep is, in all probability, of a later date than William’s birth; and, if it did exist in Robert’s time, and if William were born in the castle at all, it is far more likely that Herleva would be lodged at such a time in some other part of the building, and not in the keep. The keep was not the common dwelling-place of the lord of a castle, but only his occasional place of defence. See Mr. G. T. Clark, Old London, pp. 14, 39, 43.
But there is another statement which, if it be trustworthy, as it seems to be, puts it beyond all doubt that William was not born in the castle at all, but elsewhere in the town of Falaise. The local historian of Falaise, M. Langevin (Recherches Historiques sur Falaise, 1814. p. 134), says, on the authority of “les anciens manuscrits extraits du chartier” of Trinity Church, Falaise, that William was born in 1027, in that parish, in a house belonging to him—that is, seemingly to his mother or her father—in the old market-place, and that he was baptized in Trinity Church. See Richomme, p. 12, who follows Langevin. One would like to have the exact extracts from the manuscripts, and to know something of their date; but in any case they are better authority than a romantic modern story, which seems not even to be a genuine tradition.
IV. Most writers state, or rather assume, that William was the only child of Robert and Herleva. The lioness was bound to bring forth only a single cub. But Mr. Stapleton, who pried into every corner in Norman matters, has, in a paper in the Archæologia (xxvi. 349 et seqq.), brought some strong arguments to show that William had a sister by the whole blood, Adelaide or Adeliza, wife of Enguerrand, Count of Ponthieu. This Adelaide was the mother of two daughters, one bearing her own name, who married Odo of Champagne, the other Judith, the too famous wife of our Earl Waltheof. The elder Countess Adelaide has been commonly taken to be only a half-sister of William, a daughter of Herleva by her husband Herlwin. She appears to have been so considered by the continuator of William of Jumièges (viii. 37), who calls the mother of Judith “soror uterina Willelmi Regis Anglorum senioris,” words which he would hardly use of a daughter of Robert. Still Mr. Stapleton’s case is very strong. It rests mainly on a charter, which Mr. Stapleton prints, granted to the College (afterwards Monastery) of Saint Martin of Auche (Alcis) near Aumale. Adelaide is there distinctly called the wife of Enguerrand and sister of William, and her daughters, Adelaide and Judith, are spoken of. After the death of her husband, she enriched the church of Saint Martin, and, while still young (“quum esset adhuc in juvenili ætate”), she had it hallowed by Archbishop Maurilius. Now Count Enguerrand died in 1053, and Maurilius was Archbishop of Rouen from 1055 to 1069. Mr. Stapleton thinks that these dates better suit a daughter of Robert and Herleva, who must have been born between 1028 and 1035, than a daughter of Herlwin and Herleva, who could not have been born before 1036. There are also two statements which, though erroneous as they stand, point to the parentage argued for by Mr. Stapleton as their groundwork. Thus Orderic (522 C) makes Odo of Champagne marry a sister of William and daughter of Duke Robert. The two Adelaides, mother and daughter, are here confounded, but the fact that Duke Robert had a daughter is preserved. So Robert de Monte, under the year 1026 (Pertz, vi. 478), preserves the name of Aeliz or Adelaide, daughter of Duke Robert, though he makes her the child of another mistress and not of Herleva. This is doubtless an attempt to reconcile the existence of Adelaide with the belief that William was an only child.
The Norman writers, it must be remembered, know nothing, or choose to say nothing, of the marriage of Robert with Cnut’s sister Estrith. See vol. i. p. 521. They look upon Herleva as Robert’s only consort, lawful or unlawful. So William of Malmesbury, iii. 229; “Unicè dilexit et aliquamdiù justæ uxoris loco habuit.” But no writer asserts any actual marriage, except the Tours Chronicler in Bouquet, x. 284. He marries Herleva to Robert soon after William’s birth (“Dux Robertus, nato dicto Guillelmo, in isto eodem anno matrem pueri, quam defloraverat, duxit in uxorem”). He also transfers the story of Herleva from Falaise to Rouen. Possibly also some notion of a marriage may have floated across the brain of our own Knighton, when he said (2339) that William was called “Bastardus,” “quod ante celebrationem matrimonii natus est.”
The story of the Tours Chronicler cannot be true, as such a marriage would have legitimated William, and he then could not have been known as William the Bastard. But Herleva might seem from William of Malmesbury’s words to have been looked on as something more than an ordinary concubine. It is strange that he should be the only writer who makes Herleva marry Herlwin during Robert’s lifetime. His words (iii. 277) are, “Matrem, quantùm vixit, insigni indulgentiâ dignatus est, quæ, ante patris obitum, cuidam Herlewino de Comitisvillâ, mediocrium opum viro, nupserat.” But William of Jumièges (vii. 3) distinctly puts the marriage after Robert’s death; “Postquam Hierosolymitanus Dux obiit, Herluinus quidam probus miles Herlevam uxorem duxit, ex quâ duos filios, Odonem et Robertum, qui postmodùm præclaræ sublimitatis fuerunt, procreavit.” According to Orderic (660 B), Herleva was the second wife of Herlwin, whose son Ralph by a former marriage was also promoted by William. The honours shown by William to his mother seem to have struck writers at a distance. Besides William of Malmesbury just quoted, the Tours Chronicle in the French Duchèsne (iii. 361) says, “Matrem dum vixit honorificè habuit,” and the Limousin writer William Godell (Bouquet, xi. 235) says, “Guillelmus Rex matrem suam, quamvis esset inferiori genere orta, multùm honoravit.” He goes on to mention the promotion of her sons.
Of the sons of Herleva, Odo and Robert, I need not speak here; but I may mention that she had also a daughter by Herlwin, named Muriel, who has naturally been confounded with William’s other sister Adelaide. Wace says (Roman de Rou, 11145),
See Taylor’s note, p. 102.
One would have thought that the story of Robert and Herleva was one which could never have been forgotten. Yet later writers did not scruple to provide the Conqueror with new and strange mothers. Thomas Wikes, the royalist chronicler of the thirteenth century (Gale, ii. 22), gives William the following wonderful pedigree. He was “natus ex nobilissimâ muliere Matilde, quæ fuit filia strenuissimi militis Richardi dicti Sanz-peur, filii Willielmus [sic, at least in the printed text] Lungespeye, filii Rolandi, qui fuit primus Dux Normannorum.” And in an unpublished manuscript of the famous Sir John Fortescue of the fifteenth century (for a knowledge of which I have to thank the Right Hon. Chichester Fortescue), William is said to be Eadward’s “consanguineus germanus ex Gunhildâ amitâ suâ, sorore patris sui.” The confusion is delightful, but it preserves the fact that the kindred between William and Eadward had something to do with an aunt of one or other of them.
NOTE O. p. 254.
The Battle of Val-ès-dunes.
Since my account of the battle was written, I have received a small work by the Abbé Le Cointe, Curé of Cintheaux, called “Conspiration des Barons Normands contre Guillaume-le-Bâtard, Duc de Normandie, et Bataille du Val-des-dunes, 1047” (Caen, 1868). M. Le Cointe has examined the ground very carefully, both before and since my visit of last year, and the result of his researches is a most minute topographical account, full, accurate, and rich in local interest. I am glad to say that I do not find anything which calls upon me to alter my own shorter description. Since I was there, the foundations of the Chapel of Saint Lawrence have been brought to light, and many skeletons have been found there and in other parts of the field.
With regard to more strictly historical matters, M. Le Cointe, following in the main the same authorities as I do, gives essentially the same account. But he also makes use of a manuscript Chronicle of Normandy, which however seems not to be earlier than the fifteenth century, and whose mistakes he often stops to point out. Late writings of this kind are of course valuable only when there is reason to believe either that their authors had access to earlier written authorities now lost, or else that they embody trustworthy local traditions. The Chronicle in question contains two statements which, if true, are highly important, and the truth of which it would be most desirable to test. One is that the rebels were strengthened by a party of Angevins and Cenomannians, commanded by Enguerrand, nephew of Count Geoffrey Martel (Le Cointe, pp. 19, 35). The other is that the men of Caen—faithful among the faithless—took the side of the Duke (p. 18). It is quite possible that the influence of the local chieftains would be smaller in so considerable a city than it was at Coutances and Bayeux.
I would call particular attention to M. Le Cointe’s excellent remarks on the position of the rebel forces, in p. 25.
NOTE P. p. 274.
The Counts of Anjou and of Chartres.
With Geoffrey Grisegonelle, and still more with Fulk Nerra, we begin to get on firmer historical ground than we can find in the days of the earlier Counts. Fulk occupies an important place in the history of Rudolf Glaber, having two whole chapters (ii. 3, 4) pretty well to himself. And the exploits of Geoffrey derive more or less of corroborative testimony from several independent sources. The panegyrist of the family (Gest. Cons. 246) tells us that Geoffrey took an active part in resisting Otto’s invasion of France in 978 (see vol. i. p. 265). We learn from a distinct and contemporary authority that Geoffrey had before that taken a part in that wild raid against Aachen (see vol. i. p. 264) by which Lothar had provoked the German inroad. “Lotarius ... Lotharingiam calumniatus est. Cujus expeditionibus Gosfridus Comes Andegavorum, pater Fulconis ultimi, interfuit, nostræque ætatis multi viri” (Chron. S. Maxentii, Labbe, ii. 203). The words “Fulconis ultimi” could hardly have been used during the life of Fulk Nerra; it looks therefore as if the Chronicler wrote, in extreme old age, after Fulk’s death in 1040. These entries about Geoffrey’s attendance on Lothar fit in curiously with a Breton account (Chron. Brioc., Morice, p. 32), how Geoffrey seized on Guerech, the Breton Bishop and Count, on his return from the King’s Court, and forced him—setting a precedent for two more famous acts of his grandson—to surrender Nantes.
Rudolf Glaber is very full on the war between Geoffrey and Conan, and the battle of Conquereux (Concretus in Rudolf, Conquerentium in the Angevin, Concruz in the Breton, Chronicles) in the County of Nantes. The Bretons mention two battles on the same spot, one in 982, the other in 992 (v Kal Julii), when Conan was killed (Chron. Bret. ap. Morice, i. et seqq.); the Angevin writer (Labbe, i. 275) speaks of the latter only. In the battle recorded by Rudolf, Conan seems not to be killed, but only “truncatus dexterâ” (ii. 3). Conan, according to Rudolf, had taken the title of King, like several of his predecessors. This assumption may not have been unconnected with the great revolution of 987. Rudolf’s account of the Bretons (ii. 3) is amusing. Their land, “finitimum ac perinde vilissimum, Cornu Galliæ nuncupatur.” This vile country “habitatur diutiùs à gente Brittonum, quorum solæ divitiæ primitùs fuere libertas fisci publici et lactis copia, qui omni prorsùs urbanitate vacui, suntque illis mores inculti ac levis ira et stulta garrulitas.” Rudolf indeed is just now so full on Angevin matters that the local panegyrist is often content to copy him.
As for the Counts of Chartres, I was in vol. i. pp. 508, 509, misled by a passage of William of Jumièges (v. 10) into confounding the first and the second Odo. Odo the First died in 995, and was succeeded by his son Theobald, who was followed in 1004 by Odo the Second. It was this second Odo who waged the war about Tillières. In D’Achery, iii. 386, there is a charter of Richard the Good, restoring to the Church of Chartres lands which had been alienated from it, doubtless in the war of Tillières.
Rudolf Glaber (iii. 2) calls the younger Odo, “secundus Odo, filius scilicet prioris Odonis, qui quantò potentior, tantò fraudulentior ceteris.” He goes on to say, “Fuit etiam juge litigium et bella frequentia inter ipsum Odonem et Fulconem Andegavorum Comitem, quoniam uterque tumidus superbiâ, idcirco et pacis refuga.” The Angevin Chronicles, on the other hand, charge King Robert with leaving Fulk to fight their common battles all by himself. This first war, especially the battle of Pontlevois, will be found narrated in most of the Chronicles of the time. See Gest. Cons. 253. Chronn. Andeg. (Labbe, i. 275, 286, 287) 1016, 1025, 1026, 1027. Chron. S. Maxent. (Labbe, ii. 206) 1016, 1026. Chron. S. Florentii, ap. Morice, 122. The most striking piece of detail, the intervention of Aldebert of Perigeux in 990, comes from Ademar (iii. 34, ap. Pertz, iv. 131); “Urbem quoque Turonis obsidione affectam in deditionem accepit et Fulchoni Comiti Andegavensi donavit. Sed ille ingenio doloso civium amisit post paullulum, et iterum Odo Campanensis eam recuperavit.” Odo is prematurely called “Campanensis,” as he did not become Count of Champagne till 1019.
Odo’s last war (see p. 277) is described, among French writers, by Rudolf Glaber, iii. 9; in Gest. Cons. 254; and Chron. S. Petri Senonensis (D’Achery, ii. 475), where the date is given as 1046. It is described also by all the German writers, whom the matter more immediately concerned. See the authorities collected by Struvius, Hist. Germ. i. 342, to which may be added the very brief notices of Lambert under the years 1033 and 1037. The Kingdom of Burgundy, which came to an end in 1032 by the death of King Rudolf (see vol. i. p. 479), was claimed by Odo as well as by the Emperor Conrad, both being sisters’ sons to Rudolf. Odo obtained some advantages in Burgundy, and he is said to have received an offer of the Crown of Italy. He then contemplated a restoration of the Lotharingian Kingdom and a coronation at Aachen. In Germany he was clearly looked upon as the representative of French aggression. While one manuscript of Hermann calls him “Princeps Gallicæ Campaniæ,” another calls him “Princeps Carlingorum” (see Pertz, v. 121, and the old edition of Pistorius, p. 137). On this very remarkable expression, see vol. i. p. 172.
But still more remarkable is the sort of echo of these distant events which reached Ireland. In the Annals of Ulster, a. 1038 (O’Conor, Rer. Hib. Scriptt. iv. 324), we read of “Prœlium inter Cuana Regem ferorum Saxonum et Othonem Regem Francorum, in quo cæsi sunt millia plurima.” So in Tigernach, under the same year (O’Conor, i. 287), “Prœlium inter Cuanum Regem Saxonum et Otam Regem Francorum, in quo occisi sunt mille cum Otâ.” “Cuana” reminds us of “Cona” in our own Chronicles (1056), where however Henry is meant. It is also to be noticed that Conrad the Frank is called King of the Saxons. Not only is the Imperial dignity forgotten, but the memory of the great Saxon dynasty seems to extend itself over all succeeding Kings and Emperors. Then Odo, a French Count, striving after the Kingdom of Burgundy, or in truth after any Kingdom that he could get, is magnified into a King of the French. Lastly, “feri” seems to be a standing epithet for all Saxons, whether continental or insular. The Ulster Annals (O’Conor, iv. 326) in the very next year record the death of “Haraldus Rex Saxonum ferorum,” that is, Harold the son of Cnut.