NOTE PP. Vol. ii. p. 284.
The Voyage of William Rufus to Touques.
This story is told by a great many writers; but, as in the story of the interview of William Rufus and Helias, our two main versions are those of Orderic (775 A) and of William of Malmesbury (iv. 320). And, as in the case of that story, with which William of Malmesbury couples it, he tells it simply as an illustrative anecdote, while with Orderic it is part of his regular narrative. And again William throws one of the speeches into the form of a familiar classical quotation, and the curious apology quoted in the last note is made to apply to this story as well as to the other. At the same time there is no actual contradiction between the two versions. The messenger—Amalchis according to Orderic—reaches England and finds the King in the New Forest. He thus (775 A) describes the delivery of the message; “Ille mari transfretato Clarendonam venit, regi cum familiaribus suis in Novam Forestam equitanti obviavit, et alacriter inquirenti rumores, respondit, Cœnomannis per proditionem surrepta est. Verum dominus meus Balaonem custodit, et regalis familia omnes munitiones sibi assignatas sollerter observavit, auxiliumque regalis potentiæ vehementer desiderat, in hostile robur quod eos undique includit et impugnat.” William of Malmesbury (iv. 320) does not mention the place; “Venationi in quadam silva intentum nuntius detinuit ex transmarinis partibus, obsessam esse civitatem Cinomannis, quam nuper fratre profecto suæ potestati adjecerat.” This is a somewhat inadequate summary of the Cenomannian war.
Now comes the King’s answer, in which I have ventured in the text to bring in both the speeches which are attributed to Rufus on first hearing the news of the loss of Le Mans. In Orderic the story stands thus;
“His auditis, rex dixit, ‘Eamus trans mare, nostros adjuvare. Eodem momento inconsultis omnibus equum habenis regiravit, ipsumque calcaribus urgens ad pontum festinavit, et in quandam vetustam navim quam forte invenit, sine regio apparatu velut plebeius intravit et remigare protinus imperavit. Sic nimirum nec congruentem flatum nec socios nec alia quæ regiam dignitatem decebant exspectavit; sed omnis metus expers fortunæ et pelago sese commisit, et sequenti luce ad portum Tolchæ, Deo duce, salvus applicuit.’”
He then goes on with the graphic details of the landing at Touques and the ride to Bonneville, which find no place in William of Malmesbury. William’s version is as follows;
“Statim ergo ut expeditus erat retorsit equum, iter ad mare convertens. Admonentibus ducibus exercitum advocandum, paratos componendos, ‘Videbo,’ ait, ‘quis me sequetur; putatis me non habiturum homines? si cognovi juventutem meam, etiam naufragio ad me venisse volet.’ Hoc igitur modo pene solus ad mare pervenit. Erat tunc nubilus aer et ventus contrarius; flatus violentia terga maris verrebat. Illum statim transfretare volentem nautæ exorant ut pacem pelagi et ventorum clementiam operiatur. ‘Atqui,’ inquit rex, ‘numquam audivi regem naufragio interiisse.’ Quin potius solvite retinacula navium, videbitis elementa jam conspirata in meum obsequium. Ponto transito, obsessores, ejus audita fama, dissiliunt.”
Then follows the interview with Helias, quite out of place.
Here we have several separate details in each version; but they quite fit into one another. Of Rufus’ two speeches before he rides off, each seems to need the support of the other. The speech to the sailors lurks as it were in the words of Orderic, “remigare protinus imperavit,” and his other words, “fortunæ et pelago sese commisit,” suggest the same general idea which comes out in them. They suggest the well-known story of Cæsar which William of Malmesbury seems to have in his head, which is told by Florus (iv. ii. 37), Appian (Bell. Civ. ii. 57), and Plutarch (Cæsar, 38). The Latin writer says only “Quid times? Caesarem vehis?” while the two Greek writers bring in the word τύχη (Ἴθι, γενναῖε, τόλμα καὶ δέδιθι μηδέν. Καίσαρα φέρεις καὶ τὴν Καίσαρος τύχην συμπλέουσαν). Our writers are not likely to have read either of the Greek books, and there is enough about “Fortuna” in the passage of Lucan (v. 577–593) which William of Malmesbury at least must have had in his eye, and where the few words of Appian and the fewer of Florus grow into a speech of many lines. The odd thing however is that the actual words do not seem to come from anything in Lucan, but to be in a manner made up out of two passages of Claudian. We get the sentiment in one (De III Cons. Hon. 96);
But the actual words come nearer to the other (De IV Cons. Hon. 284);
Just as in the other story, we may suppose that Rufus said something which, in the course of improving into Latin, suggested the words of the two Latin poets. The saying that he had never heard of a king being drowned surely has the genuine stamp of the Red King about it. And it is to be remembered that there is a passage which evidently refers to the same story in a grave contemporary, who takes his quotations, not from heathen poets but from the New Testament. Eadmer (54) attributes to William Rufus, as a general privilege, something like what in our own day we have been used to call “Queen’s weather;”
“Ventus insuper et ipsum mare videbantur ei obtemperare. Verum dico, non mentior, quia quum de Anglia in Normanniam transire vel inde cursum prout ipsum voluntas sua ferebat, redire volebat, mox, illo adveniente, et mari appropinquante, omnis tempestas, quæ nonnunquam immane sæviebat, sedabatur, et transeunti mira tranquillitate famulabatur.”
It is worth notice that the same idea is found, besides Lucan and Claudian, in a third Latin writer, who is much less likely to have been known to either Orderic or William of Malmesbury. This is in the Panegyric addressed by Eumenius to the elder Constantius (Pan. Vet. v. 14). He is describing the voyage of Constantius to Britain to put down Allectus, when, as in the cases of Cæsar and William Rufus, the weather was bad;
“Quis enim se, quamlibet iniquo mari, non auderet credere, te navigante? Omnium, ut dicitur, accepto nuntio navigationis tuæ, una vox et hortatio fuit; ‘Quid dubitamus? quid moramur? Ipse jam solvit, jam provehitur, jam fortasse pervenit. Experiamur omnia, per quoscumque fluctus eamus. Quid est, quod timere possimus? Cæsarem sequimur.’”
Eumenius of course had the story of the earlier Cæsar in his mind.
In all these versions the saying of William Rufus seems to be quoted as an instance of his pride and irreverence. Matthew Paris alone (Hist. Angl. i. 166) gives his speech an unexpectedly pious turn. To the shipman, who addresses him as “hominum audacissime” and asks “numquid tu ventis et mari poteris imperare?” he answers, “Non frequenter [no longer “never” but “hardly ever”] auditum est, reges Christianos Deum invocantes fluctibus fuisse submersos. Aliqui de oppressis et obsessis apud Cenomannem orant pro me, quos Deus, etsi non me, clementer exaudiet.” Matthew also makes the news be brought to the King, not when he is hunting, but when he is at a feast.
The story is found, in one shape or another, in all the riming chronicles. Wace (14908), who tells the whole story of Helias’ entry into Le Mans with great spirit, but utterly out of place, gives a vivid picture of the coming of the messenger;
The passage in its general effect, and to some extent in its actual words, recalls the better known description (10983; cf. N. C. vol. iii. p. 258) of the news of Eadward’s death and Harold’s election being brought to William the Great. It is perhaps to make the two scenes more completely tally that Rufus, who, in Orderic and William of Malmesbury, is already engaged in hunting, is in this version merely going out to hunt. Of his father it was said;
But the son,
This reminds us of the other passage (see above, p. 533) where “Normans” and “English” are made to help the fallen Rufus before Saint Michael’s Mount. And the question again presents itself; What did Wace exactly mean by Normans and English? We must remember his position. Wace was a writer locally Norman, the chronicler of the Norman Conquest, writing when, in England itself, the distinction of races had nearly died out. His way of thinking and speaking, as that of one accustomed to past times, would most likely be different both from that of the time of which he is writing and from that which would be familiar to either Normans or English—whether genere or natione—in his own time. In Rufus’ day “Normanz et Engleiz” would have meant “Normanni et Angli genere;” but it is not likely that many “Angli genere” would be in the immediate company of the King. In Wace’s own day, “Normanz et Engleiz” already meant “Normanni et Angli natione;” only there would hardly have been any occasion for using the phrase. Wace very likely used the phrase in a slightly different sense in the two passages. Before the Mount, in describing a warlike exploit, he most likely meant simply Norman and English natione. In the present passage his mind perhaps floated between the two meanings.
The King hears the news brought by the sergeant; he gives up his purpose of hunting that day, and swears his usual oath by the face of Lucca that those who have done him this damage shall pay for it;
He bids the messenger to cross the sea as fast as he can, to go to Le Mans and to tell his forces there that by God’s help he will be there to help them in eight days;
He then—being in England, it must be remembered—asks the nearest way to Le Mans. On the direct line which is shown him, there is a well-built house. He says that he will not for a hundred marks of silver turn a hundred feet out of the way. So he has the house pulled down, and rides over the site to Southampton—not alone, in this version, but with a following;
Absurd as this story is, and utterly irreconcileable with the earlier versions, there is still a ring of William Rufus about it. And we may safely accept Southampton as the haven from which he set out. But the zeal for taking the straightest road which was so strong on him by land seems to have passed away by sea, as he goes not to Touques but to Barfleur, certainly not the nearest point for getting from Southampton to Le Mans. The story of the voyage is told in much the same way as in William of Malmesbury, the speech to the sailors standing thus;
Geoffrey Gaimar (Chroniques Anglo-Normandes, i. 32) makes the messenger bring a letter, which the King seemingly gives to Randolf Flambard to read;
He sends the messenger back with a letter; he rides to Southampton, orders a force to be got together to follow him, and himself crosses with a company of twelve hundred rich knights. Otherwise the tale is essentially the same. But it is worth noticing that Geoffrey, when he gets among sea-faring folk, uses two English words (the steersman we have already met with in his English garb in Domesday; see N. C. vol. v. p. 763);
Benoît (v. 40379) gives no details peculiar to himself; but he is worth comparing with the others as a piece of language;
But the central speech about a king being drowned is in much the same words as in the other riming versions;
This writer does not mention Southampton, Touques, Barfleur, or any particular port.
The doctrine that kings were never drowned might seem to be contradicted by the popular interpretation of the fate of the Pharaoh of Exodus. But the text certainly does not imply that the Pharaoh himself was drowned. On the other hand, there is somewhere the story of an Irish king who, setting out with his fleet, was met by Noah’s flood—conceived seemingly as something like the bore in the Severn—and was drowned.
It is worth while comparing this story of William Rufus with the behaviour of our next king of the same name in a case somewhat like this, when he too was sailing from England to the land of his birth. When William the Third was in danger in an open boat off the isle of Goree, we read (Macaulay, Hist. Eng. iv. 2);
“The hardiest mariners showed signs of uneasiness. But William, through the whole night, was as composed as if he had been in the drawing-room at Kensington. ‘For shame,’ he said to one of the dismayed sailors: ‘are you afraid to die in my company?’”
The difference between the two speeches is characteristic. But the parallel of Cæsar was seized on in both cases. Among the pageants when William entered the Hague (iv. 5), when the events of his own life were represented, this scene was shown;
“There, too, was a boat amidst the ice and the breakers; and above it was most appropriately inscribed, in the majestic language of Rome, the saying of the great Roman, ‘What dost thou fear? Thou hast Cæsar on board.’”