Either there is here a play on the words “ealdor” and “cild únweaxen,” or else the passage is a sign how utterly the word “ealdor” had lost its primitive sense.
Florence describes the disputed election very clearly;
“De rege eligendo magna inter regni primores oborta est dissensio; quidam namque regis filium Edwardum, quidam vero fratrem illius elegerunt Ægelredum. Quam ob caussam archipræsules Dunstanus et Oswaldus, cum coepiscopis, abbatibus, ducibusque quam plurimis, in unum convenerunt, et Eadwardum, ut pater suus præceperat, elegerunt; electum consecraverunt et in regem unxerunt.”
William of Malmesbury (ii. 161) makes Eadward be supported by Dunstan and certain Bishops in opposition to the Lady Ælfthryth and a party of the nobles; “contra voluntatem quorumdam, ut aiunt, optimatum et novercæ, quæ vixdum septem annorum puerulum Egelredum filium provehere conabatur, ut ipsa potius sub ejus nomine imperitaret.”
Osbern, the biographer of Dunstan (Anglia Sacra, ii. 113), speaks of Eadward as the heir, but says that some of the chief nobles objected to his election (“in cujus electione dum quidam principes palatini adquiescere nollent”) because of their fears from his supposed character (“existimantes juvenem regem inhumanum futurum, consilia sapientum non curaturum, sed pro libidine omnia acturum”). Eadmer, in his Life of Dunstan (Ang. Sac. ii. 220), makes them dread his severe justice (“quia morum illius severitatem, qua in suorum excessus acriter sævire consueverat, suspectam habebat”). They also object that he was not the son of a crowned King and his Lady (“quia matrem ejus, licet legaliter nuptam, in regnum tamen non magis quam patrem ejus dum eum genuit sacratam fuisse sciebant”). Waitz (iii. 65) remarks, when Pope Stephen anointed the sons of Pippin along with their father, “dass dies geschehen sei, um den vor der Wahl gebornen Söhnen das volle Erbrecht zu geben und die Möglichkeit zu entfernen, dass man etwa später gebornen Söhnen einen Vorrang beilege.” In both these accounts the matter is brought to an issue by the vigorous action of Dunstan.
One would like to know how far there is any truth in these statements of the objections brought against Eadward. One would have thought that there could not have been much to fear from either the virtues or the vices of a boy of his years. But the objection brought against him on the ground of his not being of kingly birth is much more likely to be a piece of genuine tradition. The difficulty about it is that, as Lappenberg remarks, it was an objection which told just as much against Æthelred as against Eadward. For the meaning can hardly be other than that Eadward was born before his father’s coronation at Bath in 974, which Æthelred was also. Otherwise the objection would really be a good one, and it was used long after on behalf of Henry the First against his elder brothers. (Cf. Herod. vii. 2–3.) Perhaps all that was meant was to deny that Eadward had any preference over his half-brother, so that the two boys might be candidates on equal terms.
I may add that the Bath coronation of Eadgar is to me one of the most puzzling things in our history. I should have taken it to be, according to one story, a mere taking again of the crown after the penance for the matter of Wulfthryth; only the Chronicles, which have hitherto freely called Eadgar King, in recording the coronation pointedly call him Ætheling.
Who was Ælfric, and how many Ælfrics were there? An Ælfric, son of Ælfhere of Mercia, had, as we have seen, succeeded his father in the government of that country, and had been banished five years before (see p. 268) the time which we have reached. An Ealdorman Ælfric died fighting for his country twenty-five years later (see p. 293). Most likely these are three distinct persons; but, as the Ælfric of whom we are now speaking was pardoned after crimes which might seem unpardonable, he might easily be thought to be the same as the already banished son of Ælfhere. At the same time it should be noticed that Florence in no way identifies the Ælfric of 991 with the banished Ælfric of 986, while he takes great pains to show that the Ælfric of 991 is the same as the traitor of 992 (“Alfricum cujus supra meminimus”) and of 1003 (“Alfricus dux supra memoratus”). The charters also seem to show that Ælfric the son of Ælfhere and the Ælfric of 991 are two distinct persons. In 983 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 196) we have the signatures of “Ælfhere dux,” “Ælfric dux.” In another charter of the same year we find these two signatures and also those of two persons called “Ælfric minister.” In 984 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 202) we find two signatures of “Ælfric dux” and one of “Ælfric minister.” In 984 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 203) we find “Ælfric ealdorman” addressed along with “ealle þa þegenas on Hámtúnscire.” A mention of Bishop Ælfheah in the charter shows that this means Hampshire and not Northamptonshire, and Ælfric the traitor seems to command the men of Hampshire in 1003 (see p. 318). In Cod. Dipl. iii. 292 we have mention of an “Ælfric ealdorman” who seems to have jurisdiction in Berkshire; his government may easily have taken in the two adjoining shires. I infer, then, that Ælfric the traitor was not Ealdorman of the Mercians, but of Hampshire and Berkshire, and that he was appointed in or before 983, when we find his signature along with that of Ælfhere. Ælfric the son of Ælfhere succeeded his father in Mercia in 983; in 984 therefore there were two Ealdormen of the name, and we find the signatures of both.
Another argument to the same effect is supplied by two charters which evidently refer to the banishment of Ælfric the son of Ælfhere. One in Cod. Dipl. vi. 174, attributed to the year 993, granting certain lands to the monastery of Abingdon, says, “Has terrarum portiones Alfric cognomento puer a quadam vidua Eadfled appellata violenter abstraxit, ac deinde quum in ducatu suo contra me et contra omnem gentem meam reus exsisteret ... quando ad synodale concilium ad Cyrneceastre universi optimates mei simul in unum convenerunt, et eumdem Alfricum majestatis reum de hac patria profugum expulerunt.” The other charter, of 999 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 312, Hist. Abingdon. i. 373), states much the same of a person described as “comes vocitamine Ælfric.” This charter is signed by an “Ælfric dux,” that is, no doubt, Ælfric of Hampshire. “Alfricus cyld,” that is, of course, “cognomento puer,” is spoken of also in the Ely History (i. 12, Gale) as a man of importance, as the son of Ealdorman Ælfhere would be, before Æthelred was King (969–979). The description of the Witenagemót at Cirencester reads very like the banishment in 986.
As for the hero of Assandun, I can only say that the name Ælfric is exceedingly common, and that it is open to us to identify him with any of the men who sign as “Ælfric minister.”
I am thankful that I have only to deal with the lay Ælfrics. There is an ecclesiastical difficulty of the same kind which I cheerfully leave in the hands of Professor Stubbs.
The text of the Treaty is given in Thorpe, i. 284; Schmid, 204. It is drawn up between King Æthelred and his Witan on the one side and the invading army on the other. “Þis synd þâ frið-mâl and þâ forword, þe Æðelred cyng and ealle his witan wið þone here gedôn habbað, þe Anlaf and Justin and Guðmund Stegitan sunu mid wæ̂ron.” It must belong to this year, and, if so, it seems to prove that Olaf Tryggvesson was present, and also that he was not yet either King or catechumen. Had the document belonged to the later dealings with Olaf, he would hardly have been placed alongside with Justin and Guthmund, but some notice would have been taken both of his Christianity and of his royal rank. Compare the different language of the treaties of Ælfred with the first and of Eadward with the second Guthrum, Thorpe, i. 152, 166; Schmid, 106, 118. The treaty between Ælfred and Guthrum is drawn up between “Ælfred cynincg and Gŷðrûm cyning and ealles Angelcynnes witan and eal seô þeôd þe on Eâst-Englum beôð.” That between Eadward and the second Guthrum is between “Eadward cyng and Gûðrûm cyng,” and the Christianity of both sides is distinctly set forth. Schmid (p. li.) supposes, either that the Anlaf here spoken of was another person from Olaf Tryggvesson, or else that the name Anlaf is an interpolation in the text. But surely these suppositions are rather violent, when the matter can be explained without recourse to them.
By this treaty provision is made for wergilds, for the reception of merchants, and for various civil contingencies, which clearly imply that a long stay was expected on the part of the Northmen. Neither side is to receive the other’s thieves, foes, or Welshmen (Schmid, 208). “And þæt naðor ne hy ne we underfon oðres Wealh ne oðres þeof ne oðres gefan.” The Wealas of the Northmen must have been simply their prisoners or servants of any kind, many of them perhaps Englishmen. So completely had the word shared the fate of the word Slave, as is still more plainly the case with the feminine form Wylne.
On the use of the word Englaland in the treaty, see above, p. 538.
The English Chronicles, and also Florence, are silent as to any intercourse, whether friendly or hostile, between England and Normandy earlier than the marriage of Æthelred and Emma. The one passage which has been sometimes thought to refer to one of the events recorded in the text cannot possibly have that meaning. The entry in the Chronicles in the year 1000, “And se unfrið flota wæs ðæs sumeres gewend to Ricardes rice,” can refer only to the Danish fleet. “Unfrið flota” must be taken in the same sense as “unfrið here” in the year 1009. And so it is taken by Florence; “Danorum classis præfata hoc anno Nortmanniam petit.” We are thus left wholly to the testimony of inferior authorities, and we must get such an amount of truth out of them as we can.
I have, in my text, after some hesitation, described two disputes between Æthelred and the Norman Dukes. The first quarrel was with Richard the Fearless in 991, which was appeased by the intervention of Pope John the Fifteenth; the second was with Richard the Good in 1000, which led to open hostilities which are described as an English invasion of the Côtentin. The stories rest respectively on the authority of William of Malmesbury (ii. 165, 6), and of William of Jumièges (v. 4). It is open to any one to reject both stories. It is still more open to any one to reject the second story, the exaggerated character of which is manifest, and the chronology of which must be a year or two wrong. But I do not think that it is safe to take them, with Sir Francis Palgrave (England and Normandy, iii. 103), and Dr. Lappenberg (p. 421 of the original, ii. 154 Thorpe), as different versions of one event, still less to fix, with Sir Francis, that event to the later date of the two.
William of Malmesbury tells us very little in his own name. He says only that Richard the Fearless had provoked Æthelred in various ways (“vir eximius, qui etiam Edelredum sæpe injuriis pulsaverit”), and that Pope John, wishing to hinder war among Christians (“non passa sedes apostolica duos Christianos digladiari”), sent Leo Bishop of Trier into England to make peace. A document then follows, described as the “legationis epistola” of this prelate, which contains an account of his mission, and gives the terms of the peace between Æthelred and Richard, and the names of the plenipotentiaries on both sides. The document is very strange in point of form, as it begins in the name of the Pope, while the latter part clearly gives the actual words of the treaty. Sir Francis Palgrave (iii. 106) objects to the genuineness of the letter that its style is unusual, if not unparalleled, which it certainly is. It runs thus; “Johannes quintus decimus, sanctæ Romanæ ecclesiæ Papa, omnibus fidelibus.” Sir Francis does not mention another objection, namely, that neither in 991 nor in 1001 was the Archbishop of Trier named Leo. The reigning Archbishop in 991 was Eckebert; before 1000 he had been succeeded by Ludolf (Gesta Treverorum, ap. Pertz, viii. 169–171). But Sir Francis (iii. 107) adds, “While we reject the convention in the shape now presented, we accept its import.—The quarrel and the reconciliation are unquestionable verities.” But the quarrel and reconciliation recorded by William of Malmesbury are a quarrel and reconciliation between Æthelred and Richard the Fearless in a definite year 991. They cannot be turned into a quarrel and reconciliation between Æthelred and Richard the Good nine years later. The apparently wrong name of the papal legate is a difficulty either way, but it is not a very formidable one. Lappenberg (p. 422 of the original German) calls Leo “Vicebischof von Trier,” which Mr. Thorpe (ii. 154) translates simply “Bishop.” Lappenberg gives no reference for his description of Leo; but a fact in German history may be safely accepted on his authority, and the local history of Trier which I have just referred to contains a statement which curiously fits in with our story. Archbishop Eckebert (977–993), son of Theodoric, Count of Holland, was the son of an English mother, and he kept up a close connexion with England. It is therefore quite natural that either he or an officer of his church should enter with zeal into a scheme for the advantage of a country which Eckebert seems almost to have looked on as his own. The other names are accurately given. John the Fifteenth was Pope, and Æthelsige was Bishop of Sherborne, in 991. Both were dead in 1000. I think it follows that the account in William of Malmesbury cannot possibly refer to a transaction with Richard the Good in 1000. The story is definitely fixed to the year 991.
Is then William of Malmesbury’s account ground enough for accepting a quarrel between Æthelred and Richard the Fearless, and a reconciliation brought about by Pope John Fifteenth? On the whole, I think it is. It is not the kind of transaction which any one would invent, if nothing of the sort happened at all, and it is hard to see to what other transaction the account can refer. The story also, as it seems to me, fits in well with the circumstances of the times. The “legationis epistola” can hardly be genuine in its actual shape as a letter of the Pope, but it seems to be made out of two genuine documents, a letter of Pope John and the text of the treaty. The unusual style might be simply the bungling attempt of a compiler to show which of all the Popes named John was the one here meant. The treaty itself bears every sign of genuineness, and the names of the plenipotentiaries are distinctly in its favour. One of the Norman signatures is that of “Rogerus episcopus,” and there was a Roger Bishop of Lisieux from 990 to 1024. The lesser Norman plenipotentiaries I cannot identify, but on the English side, as the Bishop is right, the Thegns also are right. A mere forger would not have inserted such names as those of Leofstan and Æthelnoth. He would either have put in names quite at a venture, or else have picked out the names of some famous Ealdormen of the time. There could be no temptation for a forger to pitch on Leofstan and Æthelnoth, real contemporary men, but men of no special celebrity.
The reader has still to determine whether, accepting this account of Æthelred’s quarrel with the elder Richard, he will go on to admit a second quarrel with the younger Richard. The only question is whether the story in William of Jumièges is pure invention, or whether its manifestly exaggerated details contain some such kernel of truth as I have supposed in the text. It certainly seems to me that to set the whole affair down as a mere lie is attributing too much even to the Norman power of lying, which I certainly have no wish to underrate. The story, in its general outline, seems to fit in well with the position of things at the time, and even with the character of Æthelred. But if we accept it as thus far true, we must suppose that William of Jumièges transposed the invasion of the Côtentin and the marriage of Emma. He places the latter event first. Now the marriage would follow very naturally on the conclusion of peace, while the invasion would not be at all likely to follow the marriage. Sir Francis Palgrave silently transposes the two events in the same way that I have done. He also connects the invasion, as I have done, with the reception of Danish vessels in the Norman havens. If this was, as I suppose, a breach of the treaty of 991, the wrath of Æthelred becomes still more intelligible. In this view of the matter, looking at the entry in the Chronicles under the year 1000, we can hardly fail to fix the event in that year.
Lappenberg, whose note (p. 422) should be read in the original text, takes the opposite view to Sir Francis Palgrave. He accepts the account of the transaction in 991, but carries back the invasion of the Côtentin to that year. This is at least more probable than Sir Francis’ version, and perhaps some readers may be inclined to accept it rather than my notion of two distinct disputes. But the narrative of William of Jumièges connects the invasion in a marked way with the marriage of Emma, though he has clearly confounded the order of events.
Roger of Wendover (i. 427) boldly carries back the marriage of Emma to some date earlier than 990, and makes the quarrel between Æthelred and her father arise out of his ill-treatment of her. He was misled by William of Malmesbury’s characteristic contempt for chronological order.
The Chronicles, followed by Florence, state the fact of Æthelred’s expedition against Cumberland without any explanation of its motives; “Her on þisum geare se cyning ferde in to Cumerlande, and hit swiðe neah eall forheregode.” So Florence; “Rex Ægelredus terram Cumbrorum fere totam depopulatus est.” For the motive of this unusual piece of energy we have, in default of any better authority, to go to Fordun, iv. 35 (vol. i. p. 179 ed. Skene). He attributes it to Malcolm’s refusal to contribute to the Danegeld. Having spoken of several of the payments made to the Danes, he thus goes on;
“Unde rex Ethelredus regulo Cumbriæ supradicto Malcolmo scribens per nuntium mandavit quod suos Cumbrenses tributa solvere cogeret, sicut cæteri faciunt provinciales. Quod ille protinus contradicens rescripsit suos aliud nullatenus debere vectigal, præterquam ad edictum regium, quandocumque sibi placuerit, cum cæteris semper fore paratos ad bellandum.... Hac caussa quidem, et sicut rex in ira motus asseruit, eo quod regulus contra sacramentum sibi debitum Danis favebat, maximam ex Cumbria prædam arripuit. Postea tamen concordes per omnia statim effecti, pace firma de cætero convenerunt.”
This account seems so likely in itself that I have not scrupled to adopt it in the text. But it must be compared with an account given by Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 750 A), which at first sight sounds very different; “Exinde rex Edelred ivit in Cumberland cum exercitu gravissimo, ubi maxima mansio Dacorum erat, vicitque Dacos bello maximo, totamque fere Cumberland prædando vastavit.” Here is no mention of Malcolm, and the Danes are described as being actually in possession of the country, of which the other accounts give us no hint. But that Malcolm was reigning in Cumberland at this time there is no doubt, and if any Danes were settled there, they must have been settled by Malcolm’s consent, willing or constrained. It is of course possible that one ground of Æthelred’s wrath against Malcolm may have been that he had not only refused to pay Danegeld, but had allowed Danes to settle in his dominions. And it may be that we may here have lighted on the clew to the great puzzle of Cumbrian ethnology. That Cumberland and Westmoreland are to this day largely Scandinavian needs no proof. But we have no record of the process by which they became so. In Northumberland and East-Anglia we know when the Danes settled, and we know something of the dynasties which they founded. But the Scandinavian settlement in Cumberland—Norwegian no doubt rather than Danish—we know only by its results. We have no statement as to its date, and we know that no Scandinavian dynasty was founded there. The settlement must therefore have been more peaceful and more gradual than the settlements in Northumberland and East-Anglia, and the reign of Malcolm may have been the time when it happened.
As I understand the story about the ships, the fleet, which had doubtless been gathered in some of the southern ports, was to assemble at Chester, and thence to sail to support the King’s land-force in Cumberland. “His scypu,” say the Chronicles, “wendon ut abutan Lægceaster, and sceoldon cuman ongean hyne: ac hî ne meahton.” But to get to Chester they had to sail round Wales, which Florence expresses by the words “mandavit ut, circumnavigata septemtrionali Brytannia, in loco constituto sibi occurreret.” Lappenberg (430) takes “Monege” in the Chronicles to be Anglesey; his translator (ii. 162), rightly I think, substitutes Man, but he adds the strange assertion, of which there is no trace in the original, that the fleet “was ordered to sail round the north of the island,” as if “septemtrionalis Britannia” meant Caithness. See p. 41, and the Winchester Chronicle, 922.
The account of the massacre in the Chronicles stands thus; “On þam geare se cyng hét ofslean ealle þa Deniscan men þa on Angelcynne wæron. Ðis wæs gedon on Britius mæssedæg, forðam þam cynge wæs gecyd þæt hi woldon hine besyrewan æt his life, and siððan ealle his witan, and habban siððan þis rice.”
To this account I have in the present edition ventured to add one piece of local detail, namely the story of the Danes at Oxford who took refuge in Saint Frithswyth’s minster. This is recorded in the charter of Æthelred in Cod. Dipl. iii. 327, which is marked by Mr. Kemble as spurious or doubtful, but which I am now inclined to follow Mr. James Parker (Historical Notices of Oxford, p. 20) in accepting as at all events recording a real fact. The story runs thus; “Omnibus in hac patria degentibus sat constat fore notissimum, quoddam a me decretum cum concilio optimatum satrapumque meorum exivit ut cuncti Dani qui in hac insula, velut lolium inter triticum, pullulando emerserant justissima examinatione necarentur, hocque decretum morte tenus ad effectum perduceretur, ipsi quique in præfata urbe [Oxonefordæ] morabantur Dani mortem evadere nitentes, hoc Christi sacrarium, fractis per vim valvis et pessulis, intrantes, asylum sibi propugnaculumque contra urbanos suburbanosque ibi fieri decreverunt; sed cum populus omnis insequens, necessitate compulsus, eos ejicere niteretur nec valeret, igne tabulis injecto hanc ecclesiam, ut liquet, cum munimentis ac libris combusserunt.” I am now inclined to accept this story, and to hold that it has been wrongly transferred by William of Malmesbury to the time of the murder of Sigeferth and Morkere at Oxford in 1015. His story runs thus (ii. 179). After describing the murder of the two Thegns, much as in the Chronicle, but with some further details, he adds, “clientuli eorum, dominorum necem vindicare conantes, armis repulsi et in turrim ecclesiæ Sanctæ Frideswidæ coacti, unde dum ejici nequirent, incendio conflagrati. Sed mox regis pœnitentia, eliminata spurcitia, sacrarium reparatum; legi ego scriptum quod in archivo ejusdem ecclesiæ continetur index facti.” This certainly looks very much as if William had seen the original of the charter, which records the reparation of the church (“Dei adjutorio a me et a meis constat renovata”), and had put the story at a wrong time. That this is so is almost proved by the date. Æthelred could have had no time for church restoration between the Gemót of 1015 and his death in 1016. Between the massacre in 1002 and the date of the charter in 1004, though the state of things was not very favourable for such works, he had rather more time. The confusion between the two stories was easy. Sigeferth and Morkere and their followers, though not Danes in the same sense as the victims of Saint Brice, were almost certainly of Danish descent.
In Florence we get the first touch of amplification in the general story. The rest of the passage he merely translates, but the words “ealle þa Deniscan men þa on Angelcynne wæron” become “omnes Danos Angliam incolentes, majores et minores, utriusque sexus.” This is the first hint of any slaughter of women, and it is confined to Danish women.
William of Malmesbury directly mentions the massacre twice. The first time (ii. 165) it comes in almost incidentally, in a rhetorical passage about the character of Æthelred and the wretchedness of his reign. He speaks of “Danos, quos levibus suspicionibus omnes uno die in tota Anglia trucidari jusserat, ubi fuit videre miseriam, dum quisque carissimos hospites, quos etiam arctissima necessitudo dulciores effecerat, cogeretur prodere et amplexus gladio deturbare.” We begin here to get a dim vision of Danes possessed of English wives or mistresses. In the other passage (ii. 177) he describes the slaughter of Pallig, Gunhild, and their son, which is again brought in incidentally, as the moving cause of Swegen’s great invasion in 1013. Gunhild, “non illepidæ formæ virago,” had given herself as a hostage on the conclusion of peace with the Danes (“accepta Christianitate, obsidem se Danicæ pacis fecerat”). She was beheaded by order of Eadric (“eam cum cæteris Danis infaustus furor Edrici decapitari jusserat”), and, before her own death, she had to see her husband killed in some undescribed way, and her son, a promising lad, pierced with four spears (“occiso prius ante ora marito, et filio, commodæ indolis puero, quattuor lanceis forato”).
I suspect, as I said in the text, that the notion of a massacre of women, which we find even in Florence, arose out of this one tale of Gunhild. In William of Jumièges (v. 6) we get some soul-harrowing details;
“Edelredus, Anglorum rex, regnum, quod sub magna potentissimorum regum gloria diu floruerat, tanto nefariæ proditionis scelere regiminis sui tempore polluit, ut et pagani tam exsecrabile nefas horrendum judicarent. Nam Danos per omne regnum unanimi concordia secum cohabitantes, mortis periculum minime suspicantes, subito furore sub una die perimi, mulieres quoque alvo tenus terræ esse defossas, et ferocissimis canibus concitatis mamillas ab earum pectoribus crudeliter extorqueri, lactentes vero pueros ad domorum postes allisos excerebrari jussit, nullis criminum existentibus culpis.”
Here we have only Danish women and Danish children. In the Roman de Rou (6352 et seqq.) we get the first hint of a massacre of English women. It is not directly asserted, but it seems to be implied.
Then we read an account of nearly the same horrors as in William of Jumièges, with some improvements. The details of the throat-cutting are given more minutely; we hear also of embowelling (“et as auquanz esbueloent”), and not only dogs but bears are employed to tear off the breasts of the women.
In both accounts the destruction is all but complete; certain young men, two or more—“quidam juvenes” in William of Jumièges, “douz valez” in Wace—escape—according to William—in a ship which they found in the Thames, and carry the news to King Swegen in Denmark.
We now turn to John of Wallingford, who died in 1214, and who (Gale, ii. 547) knows much more about the matter. The Danes were far from being such comfortable neighbours to the English as they appear in the two Norman accounts. They held all the chief towns and did much mischief; “optima terræ municipia vel occupaverant vel præparaverant, et genti terræ multas molestias inferebant.” But the chief evil was the way in which they made themselves too agreeable to the English women. They took great care of their persons; they changed their clothes often, they combed their hair every day, and took a bath every Saturday; “habebant ex consuetudine patriæ unoquoque die comam pectere, sabbatis balneare, sæpe etiam vestituram mutare, et formam corporis multis talibus frivolis adjuvare.” The consequence was that many English matrons broke their marriage vows and many noble maidens became mistresses of Danes. Many wars and confusions arose out of these and the other evil deeds of the Danes, till it was settled that each province should get rid of its own Danes; “ut quælibet provincia suos Danos occideret.” They were accordingly all killed on Saturday, their bathing-day. John of Wallingford does not mention the day of Saint Brice, but in 1002 that festival would really fall on a Saturday. Here we get the destruction of women and children; but they are now distinctly the English women who had yielded to the seductions of the Danes and the children who were born of these unlawful unions; “ipsas mulieres suas, quæ luxuriæ eorum consenserant, et pueros, qui ex fœditate adulterii nati erant.” John of Wallingford does not employ either dogs or bears for the torture of the women; he is satisfied with cutting off their breasts; but those who had their breasts cut off and those who were put in the ground—in Italian phrase “planted”—now form two classes, while before there was only one; “mammas quarumdam absciderunt, alias vivas terræ infoderunt.” The number of young men who escape is raised to twelve.
I must now go back a generation or two to Henry of Huntingdon. He was living in 1154, yet he seems to profess to get his information from contemporaries—“de quo scelere in pueritia nostra quosdam vetustissimos loqui audivimus.” Æthelred, according to his account (M. H. B. 752 A), was puffed up with his marriage with Emma (“quo proventu rex Adelred in superbiam elatus”), and so massacred the Danes. He sent letters secretly to every town, ordering them to be put to death at one and the same hour, which was done on Saint Brice’s day. Some were slain with the sword, others were burned; “vel gladiis truncaverunt inpræmeditatos, vel igne simul cremaverunt subito comprehensos.” There is no mention of women, not even of Gunhild. This account of Henry of Huntingdon appears in an abridged form in Æthelred of Rievaux (Gen. Regg. X Scriptt. 362), who sarcastically adds that his royal namesake was “fortior solito,” though directly after he calls him, seemingly in earnest, “rex strenuissimus.”
Roger of Wendover (i. 444) transfers the story to the year 1012. In his version Swegen is present in England at the time of the death of Ælfheah; the tribute is paid; on its payment the Danes and English made a league of brotherhood to have but one heart and one soul; Swegen goes back to Denmark; then comes the massacre, on which Swegen comes back for his last invasion. The instigator of the massacre was “Huna quidam, regis Ethelredi militiæ princeps, vir strenuus et bellicosus.” The relations between Danes and English women are here, as in John of Wallingford, a chief ground of offence, but they take a somewhat different form; “Dani ... per totam Angliam adeo invaluerant, quod uxores virorum nobilium regni et filias violenter opprimere et ubique ludibrio tradere præsumpserunt.” We hear nothing of the Saturday bath and the other attractions of the Danes. Huna—a man who does not appear in history, but of whom we shall hear again in romance—complains of this state of things, and, by his advice, letters for a general massacre on Saint Brice’s day are sent to all parts, much as in Henry of Huntingdon. The Danes, “qui paullo ante cum Anglis, additio juramento, fuerant confœderati ut pacifice cum illis habitarent,” are massacred; the women too—what women we are not told—are killed with their children, but now both are killed by being dashed against door-posts; “mulieres cum parvulis ad postes domorum allisæ animas miserabiliter effuderunt.” Young men (“quidam juvenes”) take the news to Swegen as before.
Immediately after this, Roger goes on to tell the story of Gunhild in a form founded on that of William of Malmesbury, but with some improvements. Not only Gunhild herself, but her husband and son are hostages (“virago prudentissima, inter Danos et Anglos pacis mediatrix exsistens, obsidem sese cum viro et unico quem habebat filio, Ethelredo regi ad pacis securitatem dedit”), a thing plainly impossible in the case of Pallig. William of Malmesbury had mentioned Eadric in connexion with her death, probably because he looked on Eadric as the author of the whole scheme of massacre. But, as Huna fills that post in Roger’s story, Eadric becomes the special gaoler of Gunhild; “hæc quum fuisset a rege Eadrico duci”—which he was in 1012, though not in 1002—“ad custodiendum commissa.” Her death, by Eadric’s order, and that of Pallig and their son, follow much as in William of Malmesbury.
Here is a good case of the growth of legend, but the growth of legend is not all. It is easy to see from this last account that the massacre of Saint Brice got mixed up with quite different stories belonging to quite different dates, of which I shall have to speak again.
The massacre of Saint Brice may be compared with the two massacres of the Goths recorded by Ammianus, xxxi. 16; Zôsimos, iv. 26, 27, v. 35. The former, which was done “datis tectioribus litteris,” is distinctly approved by both historians; they speak of the “consilium prudens” and ἀγχινοία of Julius, the Eadric of the story, who took care that Theodosius, unlike Æthelred, should not know of his scheme. The second is a massacre of women and children.
I have some doubt as to the formal position of Ulfcytel. The Latin writers all give him titles equivalent to Earl or Ealdorman. In Florence (1004) he is “magnæ strenuitatis dux East-Anglorum Ulfketel.” So Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 752 C) calls him “Wlfketel dux illius provinciæ,” and William of Malmesbury (ii. 165) “comes Orientalium Anglorum Ulfkillus.” But the Chronicles introduce him at this point without any title, and though he signs several charters, as in this year in Cod. Dipl. iii. 334, in 1005 (iii. 346), and in 1012 (iii. 358), he uses no higher titles than “minister” and “miles.” On the other hand the Chronicles, in recording his death in 1016, seem to call him Ealdorman by implication; “Godwine ealdorman on Lindesige and Ulfcytel on East-Anglum.” And, as we find him gathering the forces of the earldom and summoning and consulting the local Witan, it is plain that he acted with the full authority of an Ealdorman. It has sometimes struck me that he may have been in some way a deputy of Æthelweard who died along with him at Assandun, the son of the former Ealdorman Æthelwine. See Appendix AA.
William of Malmesbury (u. s.) gives Ulfcytel the praise of being one who “solus ex omnibus ... impigre contra invasores restitit.” He evidently made a great impression on the Danes themselves. We see this, not only from the passage in our own Chronicles quoted in p. 321, but from the mention of him in the Sagas. They speak of him, as William of Malmesbury does, by the contracted form Ulfkill or Ulfkell, as Thurcytel becomes Thurkill. He bears the surname of Snilling, the Bold or Quick, and is described in the Knytlinga Saga, c. 15 (Johnstone, 138), as “mikill höfdingi.” His battle of Ringmere in 1010 (see p. 344) is there strangely transferred to the war of Cnut and Eadmund in 1016. He appears again in the Saga of Saint Olaf (Laing, ii. 11; Johnstone, 93), where the battle of Ringmere is mixed up with the apocryphal and unintelligible exploits of Olaf. It should be marked that East-Anglia is called “Ulfkelsland,” just as our Chronicles talk of “Ricardes rice” and “Baldwines land.” We meet him again in the Jomsvikinga Saga, c. 51 (Johnstone, 101), where he is described as ruler of the whole North of England, and as married to Wulfhild daughter of King Æthelred (“Nordr red fyrir Englandi Ulfkell Snillingr, hann átti Ulfhildi dottur Adalrads konungs”). See Appendix SS.
I describe Eadric as I find him described in contemporary writers. I fully admit that there is much in his character, actions, and general position which is extremely puzzling; but I cannot undertake to be wise above what is written, or to put a theory of my own in the place of the unanimous witness of all our authorities. It has been ingeniously argued that Eadric was simply a forerunner of Leofric, that he represents a Mercian, therefore an intermediate, policy, which was misunderstood or misrepresented by West-Saxon writers. But all our authorities, West-Saxon as well as Mercian, agree in giving Leofric a very good character; all our authorities, Mercian as well as West-Saxon, agree in giving Eadric a very bad character. He has been called a “Trimmer,” and, as such, he has been likened, not only to the Leofric of the generation following his own, but to the Halifax of a much later age. The obvious answer is that neither Leofric nor Halifax was ever charged with going about murdering people in various parts of the kingdom. Now, as I have already said (see p. 417), many of the particular crimes laid to the charge of Eadric are open to much doubt; but the evident general belief that, whenever any mischief was done, Eadric must have been the doer of it, points to an universal estimate of his general character which cannot have been mistaken.
The first mention of Eadric in the Chronicles is on his appointment to the Ealdormanship of Mercia in 1007. He there comes in without any notice of his character or parentage, but the opinion which the Chroniclers had of him is shown plainly enough in other passages, as when the death of Sigeferth and Morkere is described in 1015 and the battle of Assandun in 1016. Florence first introduces him as “dolosus et perfidus Edricus Streona,” in 1006, when he records the murder of Ælfhelm. William of Malmesbury, as we have seen in the last Note, attributes to him the murder of Gunhild in 1002, and perhaps the whole plot for the destruction of the Danes. Florence gives a fuller character of him in 1007, when recording his appointment as Ealdorman. It runs as follows;
“Rex Edricum supra memoratum, Ægelrici filium, hominem humili quidem genere, sed cui lingua divitias ac nobilitatem comparaverat, callentem ingenio, suavem eloquio, et qui omnes id temporis mortales, tum invidia atque perfidia, tum superbia et crudelitate, superavit, Merciorum constituit ducem.”
These words of Florence seem to have been before William of Malmesbury, when, in his general picture of the reign of Æthelred (ii. 165), after speaking of the treasons of Ælfric, whom he confounds with the son of Ælfhere, he goes on,
“Erat in talibus improbe idoneus Edricus, quem rex comitatui Merciorum præfecerat; fæx hominum et dedecus Anglorum, flagitiosus helluo, versutus nebulo, cui non nobilitas opes pepererat, sed lingua et audacia comparaverat [“non” and “sed” are left out in some manuscripts, but they are clearly needed to make up the sense]. Hic dissimulare cautus, fingere paratus, consilia regis ut fidelis venabatur, ut proditor disseminabat. Sæpe, ad hostes missus pacis mediator, pugnam accendit. Cujus perfidia, quum crebro hujus regis tempore, tum vel maxime sequentis apparuit.”
Henry of Huntingdon too, whose authority is of the most varying degrees of value, but who always represents an independent tradition, says (M. H. B. 752 E), in recording Eadric’s appointment to the ealdormanship, “Dei providentia ad perniciem Anglorum factus est Edricus dux super Merce, proditor novus sed maximus.”
The surname of Streona comes, as we have just seen, from Florence. Eadric also appears as Heinrekr or Airekr Strióna in Snorro (Johnstone, 98), and in another Saga (101), where we are astounded at finding him made a brother of Emma. (The name Henry, in any of its forms, is hardly English, but we find in Cod. Dipl. iii. 87 a “Heanric minister,” perhaps one of the Old-Saxons favoured by Eadgar.) In Orderic too (506 B) a later Eadric is said to be “nepos Edrici pestiferi ducis cognomento Streone, id est acquisitoris.” The nickname evidently alludes to his great accumulations of property.
To trace Eadric and his father Æthelric by the charters is not easy, as neither name is uncommon. Thus we find in Cod. Dipl. iii. 304, a will of a certain Æthelric in Essex, made in 997, in which an Eadric is mentioned, who however seems not to be his son but his tenant. This Æthelric lay under suspicion of treasonable dealings with Swegen at the time of his first invasion in 994 (“ðam kincge wæs gesæd ðæt he wǽre on ðám unrǽde, ðæt man sceolde on Eást-Sexon Swegen underfón ða he ǽrest þyder mid flotan com”). See Cod. Dipl. iii. 314, a document which the combined signatures of Archbishop Ælfric (see p. 292) and Ealdorman Leofsige (see p. 313) fix to some date between 995 and 1002. Another Æthelric distinguished himself in quite an opposite way in the same part of the world, for he appears as one of the heroes of Maldon (see Thorpe, Analecta, p. 139). This last is probably the Æthelric “minister” and “miles,” who signs many charters from 987 to 1006 (see Cod. Dipl. iii. 228–351). In the last charter, if it be genuine, he describes himself as “the old”—“Æðelric ealda trywe gewitnys.” This is not unlikely to be the Æthelric who appears as a legatee in the will of Wulfric Spot, Cod. Dipl. vi. 148. Then there are one or more churchmen of the name, who, with the titles of “clericus,” “diaconus,” and “monachus” sign a vast number of documents of Archbishop Oswald and his successor Ealdwulf from 977 to 996 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 159–296), and one of whom possibly goes on till 1017 (see Cod. Dipl. vi. 177). I almost suspect that it is in one of these clerical Æthelrics that we are to look for the father of Eadric. It is certain that, among the many persons to whom Archbishop Oswald grants Church lands on the usual terms for three lives, three separate grants are made to a Thegn of his named Eadric. See Cod. Dipl. iii. 164, 216, 241. The dates are 977, 985, 988. May not these be the beginnings of the traitor? An Eadric also appears in Cod. Dipl. iii. 293, and another in vi. 127; but the latter at least is not our Eadric, as he was dead before 993.
The first signature which seems likely to be that of the future Ealdorman is one in 1001 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 317) as “Eadric minister.” He signs many charters by that title, including two (vi. 143) in company with a namesake of the same rank. In 1007 (vi. 157, 159) he of course begins to sign as “dux.” The charter of 1004 (vi. 151) where he appears as “dux” cannot be genuine, as King Æthelred, Archbishop Æthelnoth, and Ealdorman Brihtnoth are made to sign together. Lappenberg also (431, note 2. The passage is left out in Mr. Thorpe’s translation) quotes a charter of Eadgar in 970 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 56) as containing the signatures of Eadric and most of his brothers. But it is quite impossible that this can be our Eadric. Mr. Kemble marks the Latin version, in which alone the signatures occur, as spurious. The English version, which he accepts, has no signatures.
That Eadric rose to power by the fall of Wulfgeat is nowhere said in so many words; but the confiscation of the goods of Wulfgeat and the first mention of Eadric are put by Florence significantly near to one another. Wulfgeat signs a great many charters from 986 to 1005 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 224–345 and vi. 154). But he nowhere appears with any higher title than “minister,” except in one document of 996 (Cod. Dipl. vi. 136) where he appears as “dux.” I suspect that Wulfgeat, as well as Eadric, rose in the beginning through the favour of Archbishop Oswald. At least Oswald grants lands in Worcestershire to a knight of his of that name (“sumum cnihte ðám is Wulfgeat noma,” Cod. Dipl. iii. 259). This was in the reign of Eadward. The confiscation of Wulfgeat’s goods is recorded in the Chronicles for 1006 without remark; “And on þam ilcan geare wæs Wulfgeate eall his ár óngenumen.” Florence says, “Rex Ægelredus Wlfgeatum Leovecæ filium, quem pene omnibus plus dilexerat, propter injusta judicia et superba quæ gesserat opera, possessionibus omnique honore privavit.” There is also a charter of 1006 (Cod. Dipl. vi. 160), in which we find a notice of Wulfgeat as marrying one Ælfgifu the widow of Ælfgar (was this Ælfgar the son of Ælfric?) and as holding some lands which had been taken by Ælfgar from the monastery of Abingdon. His wife is described as sharing both in his crimes and in his fall; “Qui ambo crimine pessimo juste ab omni incusati sunt populo caussa suæ machinationis propriæ, de qua modo non est dicendum per singula, propter quam vero machinationem quæ injuste adquisierunt omnia juste perdiderunt.” Another charter of 1015 (Cod. Dipl. vi. 169) is more express. In this Æthelred grants to Brihtwold the Bishop of the diocese (who succeeded in the year of Wulfgeat’s disgrace), the lands of Wulfgeat at Chilton in Berkshire (“illo in loco ubi solicolæ appellativo usu Cildatun nominant”). Here we read, “Nam quidam minister Wulfget vulgari relatu nomine præfatam terram aliquando possederat; sed quia inimicis regis se in insidiis socium applicavit, et in facinore inficiendi etiam legis satisfactio ei defecit, ideo hæreditatis suberam penitus amisit, et ex ea prænominatus episcopus præscriptam villulam, me concedente, suscepit.” The estate was not given to the see, but to Brihtwold personally, with power to bequeath it. I cannot identify Wulfgeat’s father, which makes it the more probable that he was, like Eadric, a man of low birth.
The appointment of Eadric to the Mercian ealdormanship in 1007 is distinct in all the Chronicles and in Florence. His marriage with the King’s daughter Eadgyth took place before 1009, when Florence speaks of him as the Kings son-in-law, “gener ejus, habuit enim in conjugio filiam ejus Edgitham.” His elevation to the ealdormanship is the most natural date for the marriage. There may perhaps be some reference to this marriage in the wonderful declamation of Walter Map against Æthelred (De Nugis, 202). He charges him with systematically preferring slaves to freemen, and giving the daughters of nobles to “rustici,” that is, in the language of his day, villains. By “servi” and “rustici” he most likely means merely ceorls. “Superbus servi oculus et insatiabile cor in ipsius beneplacito ministrabat.”