NOTE OO. Vol. ii. p. 242.
The Interview between William Rufus and Helias.
We have two chief accounts of this remarkable interview, one in Orderic, 773 B, the other in William of Malmesbury, iv. 320. As with some of the other anecdotes of William Rufus, Orderic tells the story in its place as part of his regular narrative, while William of Malmesbury brings it in, along with the story of his crossing to Touques, as a mere anecdote, to illustrate the King’s “præclara magnanimitas.” And he tells the tale very distinctly out of its place, for he puts it after the voyage to Touques, that is in the campaign of 1099, whereas it is clear that it happened during the campaign of 1098. One’s feelings are a little shocked when he speaks of “auctor turbarum, Helias quidam,” which reminds one of the meeting between the Count’s earlier namesake and another tyrant (“venit Achab in occursum Eliæ. Et cum vidisset eum, ait; Tune es ille, qui conturbas Israël?” 3 Regg. xviii. 16). To be sure he does afterwards speak of the “alta nobilitas” of the Count of Maine.
There is a good deal of difference in the details of the dialogue in the two accounts. That in William of Malmesbury is much shorter, and consists wholly of an exchange of short and sharp sayings between the speakers, which are certainly very characteristic of William Rufus. There is nothing in this version of the offer of Helias to enter the King’s service, or of the counsel given by Robert of Meulan. In Orderic’s version Helias speaks first, with the offer of service, beginning “Rex inclute, mihi, quæso, subveni pro tua insigni strenuitate;” and we read, “Liberalis rex hoc facile annuere decrevit, sed Rodbertus Mellenticus comes pro felle livoris dissuasit.” Then, after speeches on both sides which are not given, comes the defiance of Helias, in these words;
“Libenter, domine rex, tibi servirem, si tibi placeret, gratiamque apud te invenirem. Amodo mihi, quæso, noli derogare, si aliud conabor perpetrare. Patienter ferre nequeo quod meam mihi ablatam hæreditatem perspicio. Ex violentia prævalente omnis mihi denegatur rectitudo. Quamobrem nemo miretur si calumniam fecero, si avitum honorem totis nisibus repetiero.”
All this is represented in William of Malmesbury by two sentences;
“Cui [Heliæ] ante se adducto rex ludibundus, ‘Habeo te, magister,’ dixit. At vero illius alta nobilitas quæ nesciret in tanto etiam periculo humilia sapere, humilia loqui; ‘Fortuitu,’ inquit, ‘me cepisti; sed si possem evadere, novi quid facerem.’”
This is very characteristic of Rufus; is it equally so of Helias? Surely the two speeches given to him by Orderic—allowing for a little improvement in the process of turning them into Latin—much better suit his character and position. And we can hardly fancy that Helias’ offer to enter William’s service, the King’s inclination to accept it, and the evil counsel given by Robert of Meulan—all likewise thoroughly characteristic—are all mere invention.
The last speech of Rufus is much fuller in William of Malmesbury than in Orderic. Orderic simply says, “Cui turgidus rex ait, ‘Vade, et age quidquid mihi potes agere.’” In the other version this becomes;
“Tum Willelmus, præ furore extra se positus, et obuncans Heliam, ‘Tu,’ inquit, ‘nebulo, tu, quid faceres? Discede, abi, fuge; concedo tibi ut facias quidquid poteris; et, per vultum de Luca, nihil, si me viceris, pro hac venia tecum paciscar.’”
He adds, without any mention of a regular safe-conduct,
“Nec inferius factum verbo fuit, sed continuo dimisit evadere, miratus potius quam insectatus fugientem.”
I have in the text followed the version of Orderic, venturing only to add the eminently characteristic words with which William of Malmesbury begins and ends. They in no way disturb the main dialogue as given by Orderic. But I must add that William of Malmesbury warns us against supposing that William Rufus, either in this speech or in his speech on the voyage to Touques, knowingly quoted Lucan. His words are curious;
“Quis talia de illiterato homine crederet? Et fortassis erit aliquis qui, Lucanum legens, falso opinetur Willelmum hæc exempla de Julio Cæsare mutuatum esse: sed non erat ei tantum studii vel otii ut literas unquam audiret; immo calor mentis ingenitus, et conscia virtus, eum talia exprimere cogebant. Et profecto, si Christianitas nostra pateretur, sicut olim anima Euforbii transisse dicta est in Pythagoram Samium, ita possit dici quod anima Julii Cæsaris transierit in regem Willelmum.”
That is to say, Cæsar and William Rufus, being the same kind of men, uttered the same kind of words. The passage of Lucan referred to is where Domitius (ii. 512) is brought before Cæsar at Corfinium;
That William Rufus should quote Lucan, as his brother Henry could most likely have done, was so very unlikely that William of Malmesbury need hardly have warned us against such a belief. At the same time it does not seem impossible that he might have heard of Cæsar without having read Lucan. But we must remember that whatever William Rufus said was said in French, and not in Latin. Without supposing either that Rufus had read Lucan or that the soul of Cæsar had passed into his body, we may believe that William of Malmesbury or his informant could not resist the temptation of translating his speech into the words of a really appropriate passage of a favourite author; then, when he had done this, the singular apology which I have quoted might seem needful.
It must be remembered that William of Malmesbury puts this story altogether out of place. It is put yet further out of its place by Wace (15106), who makes the capture of Helias follow the siege of Mayet (see p. 289). His version brings in some new details. Helias, having been taken prisoner, makes (15120) a boastful speech to his keepers, swearing by the patron saint of his city that, if he had not fallen by chance into an ambuscade, he would soon have driven the King of England out of all his lands beyond the sea (15120);
When this is told to the King, he causes Helias to be brought before him; he gives him a horse, and bids him mount and ride whither he will; only he had better take care that he is not caught again, as he will not be let out of prison a second time;
In this version the horse is something new, though not at all out of place, as Helias could not well get away without a horse, and he could not have had any horse at his command at the moment. We may note also that William is here made, whether seriously or in mockery, to give Helias the title of Count, “Dans quens.” But the story has very much come down from the level of either of the other versions. The boastful speech to the keepers is not at all in the style of Helias, and it is a poor substitute either for the dignified offer and defiance in Orderic or for the lively dialogue in William of Malmesbury. This last we should gladly have had in Wace’s version, as there would have been some faint chance of recovering a scrap or two more of the original French to match the “Dans quens,” which has a genuine ring on the one hand, as the “magister” and the “nebulo” of William of Malmesbury have on the other.
Geoffrey Gaimar too (Chroniques Anglo-Normandes, i. 37) has a version in which Helias, when a prisoner, makes a boastful speech to the effect that, if it had not been by an ambush, he would never have been taken;
He is brought before the King, to whom he says that he is much beloved in his land, and that, if he were only able to assemble his men, no king could subdue him in it. William lets him go to see what he can do, and gives up to him Le Mans and all the castles of the country;
Helias calls on his barons to help him in war with the King; but they decline, and advise him to give up the city and all the castles, and to become the King’s man. He does so; otherwise the poet says that the King would have thrown aside his friendship, and that he would have taken the castles and put all concerned to a vile death;
I need hardly stop to show how utterly unhistorical all this is. But the “bel amur,” the challenge, the release of the Count and the surrender of the city and the castles, the general looking on war as a kind of game, are all highly characteristic of the chivalrous King. The last words indeed give us the other side of chivalry; but I confess that they seem to me to be unfair to William Rufus, however well they might suit Robert of Bellême. Geoffrey Gaimar lived to see times when the doings of Robert of Bellême, exceptional in his own day, had become the general rule.