I did not come across Mr. Robertson’s “Scotland under Early Kings” till the greater part of the first edition of my first volume was printed. I had therefore no opportunity, till towards the end of the volume, of making any use of his excellent note on the Danelage (ii. 430), which is one of the best parts of his work. The history of Northumberland from the ninth century onwards is there traced out with greater clearness and probability than I have ever seen it dealt with elsewhere. His great point, which he seems to me fully to establish, is, that at the great conquest of Northumberland in Ælfred’s time, Deira only was actually divided and occupied by the Danes, while Bernicia, into whatever degree of subjection it may have been brought to the Danish power, still remained occupied by Englishmen, and under the immediate government of English rulers. The local nomenclature, as Mr. Robertson shows, bears out this view, and it also explains the otherwise puzzling fact that that part of old Northumberland which is quite away from the Humber has kept the name of Northumberland to this day, an usage which certainly began as early as the eleventh century (see Chron. Wig. 1065 and Sim. Dun. 80). Indeed Simeon (147) distinguishes “Eboracum” and “Northimbri” as early as 883; but he is doubtless using the language of his own time, as he is not following the earlier Northumbrian Chronicle. With these Anglian rulers of Bernicia I have no concern till the Commendation of 924, when the “son of Eadwulf,” and again in 926 “Ealdred Eadulfing,” appears among the princes who submitted to Æthelstan. Ealdred’s son was Oswulf, who signs two charters of Eadred in 949 as lord of Bamburgh, “Osulf ad bebb. hehgr̃” (Cod. Dipl. ii. 292), and “Osulf bebb.” (ii. 296). The abbreviation “hehgr̃” stands, according to Mr. Robertson, for heah-gerefa. And I can certainly suggest nothing better, though it is strange to find so purely ministerial a title applied to one who seems to have been rather a vassal prince than a mere magistrate. In 954, on the final conquest of Northumberland by Eadred, Oswulf seems to have exchanged this infinitesimal kind of kingship for the earldom over both provinces. See Sim. Dun. 204, who goes on to mention the division of the two earldoms between Oswulf and Oslac; “Qui [Osulfus] postea regnante Eadgaro socium accepit Oslacum. Deinde Osulfus ad aquilonalem plagam Tinæ, Oslac vero super Eboracum et ejus fines curas administrabat.” The appointment of Oslac is noticed by three of the Chronicles in the year 966, and his banishment in 975 is recorded in prose and lamented in verse. The next Earl was Waltheof, who seems to have been a son of Oswulf, and I gather from the words of Simeon (204)—“His [Osulfo et Oslaco] successit “Walthef senior””—that he again held both earldoms. But they must have been again dismembered at some time before 993, when Ælfhelm, who had signed as “minister” in 985 (Cod. Dipl. vi. 121), begins to sign as “dux” (iii. 271). An earlier signature as “Comes” in 990 (iii. 251) is doubtful. Cf. iii. 253. In 997 (iii. 304) he signs as “Norðanhumbrensium provinciarum dux.” The only signature of Waltheof himself that I know of is one of “Wælðeof dux” in 994 (iii. 280). That Uhtred (p. 329) held both earldoms on the deposition of his father and the murder of Ælfhelm seems plain from the words of Simeon (80), “Rex Ethelredus, vocato ad se juvene præfato, vivente adhuc patre Waltheof, pro merito suæ strenuitatis et bello quod tam viriliter peregerat, dedit ei comitatum patris sui, adjungens etiam Eboracensem comitatum.” This last was evidently the earldom made void by the death of Ælfhelm.
The death of Uhtred and the bestowal of the Northumbrian earldom on Eric the Dane by Cnut I have mentioned at pp. 379, 524. Mr. Robertson (i. 95, ii. 442) seems to confine the Northumbrian government of Eric to Deira, while he extends his frontier southward as far as Watling-Street. But the fourfold division of England implies that Eric ruled over all Northumberland. On the other hand, Simeon (81), speaking in his own person (see Stubbs, Preface to R. Howden, i. xxx), in a marked way confines the government of Ealdred, the successor of Eadwulf, to Bernicia. “Aldredus, quem prædictus comes Ucthredus genuerat ex Ecfrida Alduni episcopi filia, ... solius Northumbriæ comitatum suscepit, patrisque sui interfectorem interfecit Turebrandum.” “Northumbria,” it will be seen, is here used in the most modern sense. The obvious inference is that Eadwulf ruled at first in Bernicia only and under the superiority of Eric, but that, on Eric’s banishment, he succeeded to the government of all Northumberland immediately under the King. Simeon gives us no dates, and Siward’s accession to Deira may have followed the death of Eadwulf Cutel. Everything looks as if the reign of Ealdred was very short.
One question remains as to Thored, who signs as “dux” in 979, 983, and 988 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 171, 198, 237), and in the Chronicles (992) is distinguished as “Þored eorl” from “Ælfric ealdorman.” He was therefore in all probability Earl of Deira or Yorkshire (see Robertson, ii. 441). He is doubtless the same as Thored the son of Gunner, who, according to the Chronicles, harried Westmorland in 966, and, according to some accounts (see below, Note SS), he was the father of Æthelred’s first wife. He was no doubt succeeded by Ælfhelm in 993, and he must himself have been appointed as early as 979. Mr. Robertson conjectures that he succeeded on the banishment of Oslac in 975. But we have seen that Waltheof then succeeded to both earldoms. My conjecture therefore is that the two earldoms were again separated on the accession of Æthelred, Deira being given to Thored. If Æthelred really married Thored’s daughter, this is still more likely.
There can be no doubt that Eorl (see p. 407) is the proper title of a governor of Deira (see Cod. Dipl. ii. 293, and the Laws of Eadgar, Schmid, 198). But the Chronicles do not always observe the distinction. The pointed marking out of Thored as “eorl” and Ælfric as “ealdorman” is an unusual piece of accuracy, and though Oslac, when his banishment in 975 is recorded, is called “se mæra eorl,” yet his appointment in 966 is expressed by the words “feng to ealdordome.”
The Abingdon and Peterborough Chronicles for 1008 have, “Hér bebead se cyng þæt mán sceolde ofer eall Angelcyn scypu fæstlice wyrcan; þæt is ðonne; of þrim hund hidum and óf tynum ænne scegð, and of viii hidum helm and byrnan.”
So Florence; “Rex Anglorum Ægelredus de cccx cassatis unam trierem, de novem vero loricam et cassidem fieri, et per totam Angliam naves intente præcepit fabricari.” So Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 753 A) and Lappenberg, ii. 170.
But the Worcester Chronicle (Cott. Tib. B. iv.) reads “of þrym hund scipum and x bé tynum anne scægð.” I quote Mr. Earle’s note, without confidently pledging myself to his interpretation, further than that I feel sure that the assessment must have been made by shires in some shape or other. If anything else were needed to prove it, the bequest of Ælfric so appositely quoted by Mr. Earle, and which I have not scrupled to mention in the text, would alone be enough.
“In this rating of land for raising a navy, the numbers are so unconformable to the statistical numbers preserved elsewhere, and so incommensurate with each other, that they must be received with suspicion. All the texts agree, except D [the Worcester Chronicle], which, of all extant texts, is probably the nearest to the source. In the confusion of the text of D, may possibly be found materials for a future emendation.
“But, taken at its worst, the annal is rich in interest. We learn the curious fact, that it was incumbent on each of the landed subdivisions, to provide the king with a ship and its armour. The government did not levy ship-money, but required each county to find its quota of ships. This would apply as well to the inland districts, as to those on the sea-board. And here we find the explanation of an otherwise inexplicable bequest of good Abp. Ælfric, who died two years before this date. He gave one ship to the folk of Kent, and one to Wiltshire. The will is in Cod. Dipl. 716 [iii. 351]. Doubtless, in each of the cases, the bequest was intended as an alleviation of the heavy imposts under which the people groaned. His gift being to the shire, is an argument that the assessment was by shires. It appears to me probable that each shire had to furnish one ship for every three Hundreds contained in the shire. Thus a shire containing thirty Hundreds would have to furnish ten ships. (Accordingly, D may be right: of þrym hund scipum: ? = of three Hundreds—Hundertschaften.) This burden would fall on the whole body of the people, according to their rating. But the wealthy landowners had a special burden besides. He who had property up to or over the extent of ten hides, would have to furnish a scegð—and every thane under ten hides, had to furnish a helmet and breastplate.”
The scegð, according to Mr. Earle and Dr. Schmid, seems to be a smaller kind of vessel. It is a pity that even Florence was so far carried away by the wish to appear classical as to talk about triremes, instead of using words which might express the different kinds of vessels spoken of.
On Mr. Earle’s showing, the special imposts laid on the great landowners would exactly answer to the Attic λειτουργίαι. But it tells somewhat against his interpretation that both Florence and Henry of Huntingdon follow the reading of the other manuscripts. In any case I must confess that I do not clearly understand about the helm and breastplate.
Most writers assume that “Wulfnoth Child the South-Saxon,” as he is called in all the Chronicles, was at once the nephew of Eadric and the father of Earl Godwine. These questions I shall discuss in a later Note, specially devoted to the origin of the Earl. I will only say here that it seems to me that, whoever was the father of Godwine, Florence did not intend to identify the Wulfnoth who, he says, was nephew to Eadric, with Child Wulfnoth the South-Saxon.
That Brihtric, the accuser of Wulfnoth, was a brother of Eadric rests on the authority of all the Chronicles. They all call him “Brihtric, Eadrices broðor ealdormannes.” Florence gives him the character of being “homo lubricus, ambitiosus, et superbus,” and adds that the accusation was unjust. He had also just before given the following list of the brothers of Eadric or sons of Æthelric; “cujus fratres exstiterunt Brihtricus, Ælfricus, Goda, Ægelwinus, Ægelwardus, Ægelmærus, pater Wlnothi, patris West-Saxonum ducis Godwini.” The charters are full—take for instance Cod. Dipl. iii. 355 and vi. 164, 166—of signatures which may be the signatures of those brothers. But all the names are common, except perhaps Goda, unless it be a short form of Godric or Godwine. For instance, one charter in Cod. Dipl. iii. 345, 346 is signed by three distinct Brihtrics, all with the rank of “minister.” In one place (iii. 351), if the document be genuine, “Byrhtríc cinges þegen gewitnys” signs between Eadric and one who may be their father (see above, p. 656). In vi. 155 we have a “Bríhtric reáda” in Dorsetshire, and in the Chronicles (1017) a “Brihtric Ælfehes suna on Defenascire,” who may be the same as the Brihtric of Dorset, but who is of course different from the brother of Eadric. Of Æthelweards we find several in the early days of Cnut. It seems in vain to try to make out anything more about the family; except that, according to Orderic (506 B), Eadric the Wild, so famous sixty years later, was Eadric’s nephew or grandson—“nepos Edrici pestiferi ducis.”
The title of “cild” or “child” given to Wulfnoth is a puzzling one. Florence translates it by “minister,” as if it were the same as Thegn; Henry of Huntingdon by “puer nobilis.” It is found in one other place only in the Chronicles, namely in 1074, where it is applied to the younger Eadgar, as if it were the same as Æðeling. We have seen it (see above, p. 641) as the title of one of the Ælfrics, who in English is “cild” and in Latin “cognomento Puer.” Several men bear the title in Domesday, as “Alnod cilt” (2 et al.), Eadwine, miscalled Godwine, Abbot of Westminster (146), Edward “cilt,” a man of Earl Harold (146, 148, 212, 336b, 340), and several others, Brixi, Eadwig, Leofric, Leofwine, and others, whom I do not profess to identify. See Ellis, ii. 68. In a deed of Bishop Ælfwold T. R. E. in Cod. Dipl. vi. 196, we find the signature of a “Dodda cild” (see vol. ii. Appendix G), seemingly a kinsman of Earl Odda. From all these examples, and from the later use of the word, “Childe Waters” and the like, one would think that “cild” was in some way or other a title of honour, though it is not at all easy to see exactly what it implied in the way of rank or office. On the other hand we find an Æthelric (Æilricus) “cild,” as also an Eadwine “cniht,” among the inferior tenants of Battle Abbey. Chron. de Bello, 14, 15.
The story of Wulfnoth, as well as his personality, is puzzling. We hear nothing of the nature of the charge against him or of the punishment which seems to have been designed for him. In the Chronicles we simply read that the accusation was brought and that Wulfnoth took to flight and began to plunder. Florence says “ne caperetur, mox fugam iniit.” Henry of Huntingdon, who does not mention the charge brought by Brihtric, says “Rex exsulaverat Wlnod.” So William of Malmesbury (ii. 165), who brings the story in only casually, in his general picture of the reign of Æthelred. He says nothing of the flight of Wulfnoth or the pursuit of Brihtric. He mentions the storm and adds, “Paucæ de reliquiis multarum factæ, impetu cujusdam Wulnodi, quem rex exlegatum ejecerat, submersæ vel incensæ.” Nor have we the least hint given as to whither Wulfnoth went, or what he did, after he had burned the hundred ships. He may have joined the Danes or have done anything else in the wiking line; I cannot believe that he went and lived quietly in Gloucestershire. In this uncertainty, modern writers seem to have thought that they had full licence to give play to their imaginations, and the results are remarkable. Mr. St. John for instance and M. de Bonnechose display a minute knowledge of the actions and motives of all parties which certainly cannot be got by the dull process of groping in the Chronicles. Let us hear Mr. St. John (Four Conquests, ii. 21);
“About the vicious and bewildered king, the earl of Mercia and his brethren clung like the fabled serpents about Laocoon. They were seven in all—Edric, Brihtric, Elfric, Goda, Ethelwine, Ethelward, and Ethelmere—and between them was incessantly carried on a reckless struggle for pre-eminence. Being all desirous of monopolizing the favour of Ethelred, they plotted against each other, and pursued their designs with relentless vindictiveness.
“Ethelmere, the youngest of the brothers, had a son, Wulfnoth, who for his courage and capacity had been made Childe of the South-Saxons, a post of great honour and distinction. This excited rancorous envy in the breast of his uncle Brihtric, who, in order to compass his overthrow, accused him of treason to the king. Familiar with the cruel and capricious temper of Ethelred, the young earl effected his escape from London.”
The French writer, M. Emile de Bonnechose (Quatre Conquêtes de l’Angleterre, ii. 17), is almost more remarkable than Mr. St. John. “De nouvelles défections anéantirent bientôt les forces navales des Anglo-Saxons: un de leurs chefs, nommé Wulnoth, père du fameux comte Godwin, prit la fuite avec vingt vaisseaux. Britric, commandant de la flotte, poursuivit le fugitif.” No hint whatever why Wulfnoth fled. Presently (ii. 56) we read of “le service que ce Wulnoth rendit au roi Sweyn en lui livrant une partie de la flotte qu’il commandait et en brûlant le reste,” events of which the Chronicles preserve no mention whatever. More amazing than all, Wulfnoth is elsewhere described (ii. 54) as “churl ou chef des Saxons du sud,” much as if one were to talk of a man being “Roturier or Duke of Montmorency.”
This name, like many others, appears in a fuller form in England than in Denmark. The English bearers of it, all doubtless of Danish descent, are always called Thurcytel. The famous Dane himself always appears, whether in Latin, English, or Danish, in a shortened form, Thurkill or something like it, in various spellings.
Our Thurkill comes before us in very different lights in different accounts. In the Chronicles we first hear of him as commanding the fleet which came in 1009. The three Chronicles all agree in saying that soon after Lammas an innumerable fleet came to Sandwich (“þá cóm sona æfter lafmæssam [“hlammessan,” Petrib.] se úngemætlica únfrið here to Sandwic”), but Abingdon alone adds “þe we heton Ðurkilles here.” Florence distinguishes the fleet of Thurkill from the fleet of Heming and Eglaf (“Danicus comes Turkillus sua cum classe ad Angliam venit: exinde mense Augusto alia classis Danorum innumerabilis, cui præerant duces Hemingus et Eglafus,” &c.). But the two fleets meet in Thanet and sail together to Sandwich. We then hear no more of Thurkill by name till 1013, but it is plain that all the ravages done up to Swegen’s invasion in that year were done by “Ðurkilles here.” In 1013 (see p. 360) we suddenly find him on the English side. He is in London with Æthelred (“forðan þær wæs inge sé cyng Æþelred and Þurcyl mid him”), and directly after (see p. 361) we find him and Æthelred together in the fleet in the Thames. This makes it plain that the forty-five ships which went over to Æthelred in 1012 (see p. 356) were Thurkill’s ships or a part of them. It was plainly then that he changed sides. We hear of his fleet again in 1014, when a Danegeld was paid to it (see p. 371); and again in 1015, when Eadric seduced “the forty ships from the King’s service” (“Eadric ealdorman aspeon þa fowertig scipa fram þam cyningc”). But Thurkill’s name is not mentioned again till 1017 (see p. 407) when Cnut gives him one of the four great Earldoms, namely East-Anglia. In 1020 (see p. 426) he appears along with Cnut at the consecration on Assandun; in 1021 (see p. 428) he is outlawed; in 1023 (see p. 429) he is reconciled to the King and seems to become his lieutenant in Denmark, but we hear no more of him in England.
Florence mentions Thurkill whenever he is mentioned in the Chronicles, except in the account of his reconciliation with Cnut, which appears in the Abingdon Chronicle only. He makes matters somewhat plainer about “the forty ships” in 1015, saying that Eadric “de regia classe xl naves, Danicis militibus instructas, sibi allexit.” He also, in recording Thurkill’s banishment in 1021, adds the name of his wife; “Canutus rex ... Turkillum supra dictum comitem cum uxore sua Edgitha expulit Anglia.” It should be noticed that neither in the Chronicles nor in Florence is there any mention of Thurkill during the wars of Cnut and Eadmund in 1016.
As for the charters we can hardly expect to find him signing during the reign of Æthelred. In Cnut’s time, 1018–1019, we find him signing as “dux” (Cod. Dipl. iv. 1, 3, 6, 9). His signature to the document of Healðegen Scearpa in 1026 (Cod. Dipl. iv. 32) is more puzzling, as it would imply a return of Thurkill to England, of which there is no other trace. But that document, though not marked doubtful or spurious by Mr. Kemble, seems to me most suspicious. Godwine signs as “þegen,” but before all the Earls, and the Earls who sign are Siward, Ælfgar, Thurkill, Leofric, Swegen, Tostig, and Eadred. I cannot identify any Earls Ælfgar and Swegen in the time of Cnut, and the Tostig of those days (see Note WWW) is a half-mythical person. It is very doubtful too (see Note CCC) whether Leofric was an Earl so early as 1026, and Siward seems not to have been an Earl till Harthacnut’s time. I cannot help thinking that an unskilful forger adapted the names from some charter of Eadward, and that Swegen and Tostig are the sons of Godwine moved out of their places. I do not think that we can bring Thurkill back to England without some better evidence than this. We must also take care to distinguish Earl Thurkill from several contemporary Thurkills of lesser degree. There is, for instance, a “Ðurkill minister” who signs in 1023 (iv. 27), and a Thurkill the White (“Ðurcil hwíta”) who figures in a private document at iv. 54. He goes into Herefordshire on the King’s errand along with Tofig the Proud. Of another Thurkill, or the same, there is a long story in the Ramsey History, c. 84.
William of Malmesbury seems to have a special dislike to Thurkill. He mentions him only twice (ii. 176, 181), and both times charges him with being the chief instigator of the murder of Ælfheah, which, from the better authority of Thietmar (see Note PP), we know that he tried to hinder. The first passage runs thus;
“Resederat in Anglia Turkillus Danus, qui fuerat incentor ut lapidaretur archiepiscopus, habebatque Orientales Anglos suæ voluntati parentes. Tam cæteri, dato ab Anglis octo millium librarum tributo, per urbes et agros, quo quisque commodius poterat, dilapsi: quindecim eorum naves cum hominibus regis fidem sequutæ. Turkillus interea regem patriæ suæ Suanum nuntiis accersit ut Angliam veniat.”
This is followed by a rhetorical description, put into Thurkill’s mouth, of the vices and weakness of Æthelred and of England. Here are several manifest misstatements; besides the misrepresentation as to the death of Ælfheah, nothing is plainer than that Thurkill, who stood by Æthelred to the last, did not invite Swegen into England. The only question is whether any trace of truth lurks in the words which seem to attribute to Thurkill a settlement in East-Anglia earlier than his investiture with that earldom by Cnut. The other passage is equally unfair. The removal of Thurkill from England is thus described; “Succedente tempore Turkillus et Iricius, ab Anglia captatis occasionibus eliminati, natale solum petierunt; quorum primus, qui incentor necis beati Elfegi fuerat, statim ut Danemarchiæ littus attigit a ducibus oppressus est.” This last statement is directly contradicted by the Chronicles; but it shows us where William of Malmesbury got his notion of Thurkill, namely from the two tracts of Osbern on the martyrdom of Ælfheah and his Translation. In the latter (Anglia Sacra, i. 144) we get a wonderful account of Thurkill. He is “male audax princeps malorum Thyrkyllus, pauco tempore prædo futurus, sed in æternum damnati spiritus præda mansurus”—a hard fate for the co-founder of Assandun and benefactor of Saint Eadmund’s. He remains in England after the death of Ælfheah, but presently Cnut comes, seemingly on the errand of getting rid of Thurkill and his followers (“Cnut ... diffidens ab illo propter quasdam res male ac perfide actas, quidquid residuum infandi populi esse poterat, sicut tabulæ stilo deleri solent, delevit, ipsumque ducem sex tantummodo navibus munitum in Danamarcam fugavit”). Thurkill goes to Denmark; being suspected of a design to stir up civil wars, he is hunted down and killed, and his body is left unburied (“ne intestina bella moliretur, statim per cuncta regionis illius loca agitatus, ad ultimum ab ignobili vulgo occisus, ferisque et avibus est miserabiliter projectus”). This is plainly the source whence William of Malmesbury got his account of Thurkill’s death; still he knew the history too well to accept Osbern’s introduction of Thurkill (ii. 131) as at first a joint commander with Swegen, and then, after Swegen’s death, his successor (“piratæ ... ducibus Swano et Thurkyllo, principibus Danorum fortissimis, nonnullam terræ Anglorum maculam intulerant. Sed Swano ab omnipotenti Deo terribiliter occiso, Thyrkillus malignæ hæreditatis principatum sortitus est”). Osbern evidently looked on Thurkill as the author of all evil, but he does not again mention him by name. It is worth thinking whether William of Malmesbury’s notion of Thurkill’s settlement in East-Anglia at this time arose from any confusion with the partition which, according to Osbern (see Note PP), was to be made between Eadric and the Danes.
William of Malmesbury’s statement that Thurkill invited Swegen into England probably comes from some confusion with the narrative of the Encomiast. This last writer makes (i. 2) Thurkill go to England by Swegen’s leave to avenge the death of a brother who had been killed there, perhaps in the massacre of Saint Brice. But, once in England, he goes over to the English side, and seemingly obtains some establishment in the country (“meridianam partem provinciæ victor obtinet”). One main object of Swegen’s expedition is said to be to win back, by force or persuasion, Thurkill himself and the forty ships of which he has defrauded his sovereign. We hear however nothing more of him till Swegen is dead. When Cnut goes back to Denmark, Thurkill stays in England (ii. 1). His motives are described at length. He then (ii. 3) goes to Cnut with nine ships, leaving thirty in England, to make his peace with him (“memor quod Sueino fecerat, et quod tunc in terra absque licentia domini sui Cnutonis inconsulte remanserat, cum novem navibus earumque exercitu dominum suum requisivit, ut ei patefaceret quia non contra ejus salutem se recedente remanserit”), and to exhort him to a renewed invasion of England. Cnut accordingly comes, and Thurkill is his right hand man throughout the war with Eadmund.
I do not know whether our Thurkill is the same as “Þorkell Hasi,” brother of Heming and son of Earl Strut-Harold, who accompanies Cnut to England in the Knytlinga Saga, c. 8 (Johnstone, 105). This may be the Heming of Florence, 1009.
The history of Thurkill in our Chronicles seems to hang very well together. Patching it up from Thietmar, I infer that he embraced Christianity before the death of Ælfheah, which he strove to hinder. He then took service under Æthelred, and served him faithfully against Swegen. But I do not know how to cast aside the assertion of the Encomiast that Thurkill was prominent on Cnut’s side during the war with Eadmund. Fabulous as are many of the details, this can hardly be mere invention. He may have changed sides when Eadric beguiled the Danes in the English service in 1015 (see above, p. 376), or after Æthelred’s death, at the Southampton election of Cnut.
Thurkill married (see Florence, 1021) an Englishwoman named Eadgyth. Lappenberg (ii. 197, 207) makes her the widow of Ulfcytel, therefore a daughter of Æthelred. But the name of Ulfcytel’s wife seems to have been Wulfhild (see above, p. 654, and Lappenberg, ii. 168), while Eadgyth the daughter of Æthelred was certainly the wife of Eadric. I suspect that it was Eadric’s widow whom Thurkill married. At the same time I cannot lay my hand on any authority for Thurkill’s wife being a daughter of Æthelred; but it is very likely, and such a connexion would account for Cnut’s jealousy of him (see p. 415).
Wulfric appears in the Chronicles simply as “Wulfric Leofwines sunu” without any further description. So in Florence he is simply “Wlfricus Leofwini filius.” He signs a charter of 1002 (Cod. Dipl. vi. 146) as “minister.” In the confirmation of his will by Æthelred (Cod. Dipl. iii. 332) he is described as “nobilis progeniei minister Wlfricus.” He and all the other men who were slain at Ringmere all come in the Chronicles under the head of “feala oðera godra þegna.” I should infer from this that he never held the rank of Ealdorman; but he is called “consul” by Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 753 C) and Bromton (X Scriptt. 888). So the Burton Chronicle printed in the Monasticon, iii. 47, calls him “illustris et præpotens consul ac comes Merciorum Wulfricus Spott regali propinquus prosapiæ.” The Burton Annals however (Luard, Ann. Mon. i. 183) are satisfied with calling him “quidam nobilis nomine Wlfricus cognomento Spot.” He cannot possibly have been Ealdorman of all Mercia, and if he were a subordinate Ealdorman of one of the shires in which his property lay, he could hardly fail to have been somewhere spoken of as “dux” or “comes.” Sir Francis Palgrave (ii. ccxciii.) suggests that he was Ealdorman of Lancaster, on the strength of his possession of lands between the Ribble and the Mersey. This comes from his will, which is printed in Cod. Dipl. vi. 147. But Lancashire, as a shire, is later than Domesday. The lands between Mersey and Ribble appear there as an appendage to Cheshire, while Lancaster is in Yorkshire. Wulfric’s lands between the Ribble and the Mersey are left to Ælfhelm and Wulfheah, no doubt the murdered Ealdorman and his son, to both of whom other bequests are made as well as to Ælfhelm’s other son Ufegeat. A little way on, he leaves lands “Ælfhelme mínan meáge,” and he afterwards speaks of “Ælfhelm mín bróðor.” This may raise some question as to whether he is speaking of one Ælfhelm or more.
Sir Francis Palgrave (ii. ccxci.) makes Wulfric the son of the person called Leofric the Second, brother of Ealdorman Leofwine and uncle of the famous Earl Leofric. But I do not find this even in the very mythical document on which his genealogical table is founded, and of which I shall have again to speak (see Appendix CCC). The Chronicles distinctly describe Wulfric as the son of Leofwine, that is, not the Ealdorman of that name, but one of the many Thegns who bore it. Thus in Cod. Dipl. iii. 322 (a charter signed by Wulfric himself), we have “Leofwine dux,” as distinguished from “Leofwine minister;” and the confirmation charter of Wulfric’s own foundation is signed by “Leofwine dux” and by two several men described as “Leofwine minister.” It would seem from what I have just quoted that Wulfric was a brother of Earl Ælfhelm, and the Burton Chronicle gives him another brother “dux Alwinus,” that is, Ælfwine or Æthelwine, two not uncommon names, both of which will be found among the signatures, as in Cod. Dipl. iii. 345–6, a document which, I may add, is signed by three Leofwines besides the Ealdorman. Wulfric also makes bequests to a daughter of Morkere and Ealdgyth who was his goddaughter (“ic geann mínre goddóhtor Mórcares and Ealdgyðe ðæt lande” etc.). He mentions only one child of his own, who is spoken of rather mysteriously, without any name, as “my poor daughter” (“ic gean mínre earman dehter”), with a hint that there was something wrong about her. She is to hold the land only while she deserves it (“hwile ðe heo hit geearnian cann”), and Ælfhelm is appointed guardian both of her and of the land. The name of Wulfric’s wife, according to the local Chronicle, was Ealhswith.
The foundation of Burton took place, according to the local Chronicles, in 1004, which is the year of the confirmation charter. Wulfric was buried within his own monastery, not however in the church, but in the cloister; “in claustro monasterii sui antedicti sub arcu lapideo juxta ostium ecclesiæ superioris” (Mon. iii. 47). Ealhswith, who seems to have died before him, as she is not mentioned in the will, was also buried in the cloister, “juxta ostium ecclesiæ inferioris.” It seems then that the cloister had one door into the choir and one door into the nave, that is to say, the ritual choir was west of the crossing. The first Abbot Wulfgeat and his monks came from Winchester; he is said to have lived till 1026, but I doubt whether he signs any charters.
Of the siege of Canterbury and the martyrdom of Ælfheah—the Alphege of hagiology—we have four distinct accounts. That in the Chronicles of course claims the first place. It was written before 1023, as it speaks of Ælfheah’s body being still at Saint Paul’s and working miracles there, whereas it was translated to Canterbury in 1023. The witness of the Chronicles I of course accept unhesitatingly. And next to it I am inclined to place the narrative in Thietmar of Merseburg, which he heard when it was fresh from the lips of an Englishman named Sewald. He gives a minute account of the martyrdom, which differs a good deal from the popular version, but which falls in very well with the account in the Chronicles, contradicting it in nothing, but explaining it on one or two points. But, oddly enough, Ælfheah is called Dunstan, a strange mistake to have been made by a contemporary, even though a foreigner, but one which shows how great was the fame of Dunstan, and how small the fame of Ælfheah, in Christendom generally. There is also the Life of Ælfheah by Osbern in Anglia Sacra, ii. 122. This is a mere piece of hagiology, in the common style of such lives, and it contains many statements which are untrue or impossible. It is in fact valuable only as affording practice in the art of unravelling the component elements of a romantic story. But the remarkable thing is that the fourth narrative, that of Florence, departs in several important points from the Chronicles and copies either from Osbern, or, what is more likely, from some third source from which Osbern also copied. Florence’s knowledge and good sense kept him from repeating any of Osbern’s grosser absurdities, but he has not improved his narrative by introducing several details which cannot be reconciled with the Chronicles. Simeon simply copies Florence; Henry of Huntingdon follows the Chronicles, with some slight touches from Florence.
The Chronicles (1011) describe the whole event in detail, but they give us only a picture of plunder and captivity, without any mention of slaughter. The Archbishop and the other persons spoken of and a further countless number of clerks and laymen, men and women, were made prisoners (“hi þær genamon inne ealle þa gehadodan men and weras and wif; þæt wæs unasecgendlic ænigum men hu micel þæs folces wǽs”). The word “genamon” which is applied to the mass of the people is the same word which is applied to the Archbishop, who was not put to death till long after, and to others who we know were not put to death at all. The Chronicles then go on to say how the Danes stayed in the city as long as they would, and when they had searched it thoroughly went to their ships (“ðá hí hæfdon þa buruh ealle asmeade, wendon him þá tó scypan”). Then follows a short poem lamenting the captivity of Ælfheah and the wretchedness of the city; but there is not a word to imply any general massacre. Neither is there anything to imply such a massacre in the shorter narrative of Thietmar. But in Osbern (Ang. Sacr. ii. 136, 137) and Florence we get a soul-harrowing account of every possible horror. Men are slaughtered, burned, thrown from the walls, tortured in horrible ways. Women are dragged by their hair and thrown into the fire. Children are tossed on spears or crushed under the wheels of waggons. The whole ends with a systematic decimation of the surviving adult males. By decimation is here meant the slaying, not of one out of ten, but of nine out of ten. This process leaves their lives to four monks and eight hundred laymen. If this is any clew to the population of Canterbury, the monks of the two minsters must have been fewer, and the general population much larger, than one would have expected. The metropolis of England must have gone down, relatively at least, since the eleventh century.
These stories cannot be accepted in the teeth of the speaking silence of the Chroniclers. The narrative of these last is so minute and so pathetic that they could hardly have failed to dwell on the massacre if any massacre had taken place. No doubt some lives were lost; a city was not likely to be taken, least of all by Danes in that age, without the loss of some lives. And here would be material enough for rhetorical hagiologists to work up into the picture given us by Osbern, into which they of course brought in all the horrors that they had ever heard of anywhere.
The reader will perhaps not be inclined to set much store by the authority of Osbern, if he knows the kind of story with which he (ii. 132) introduces the siege. One of the brothers of Eadric, a man “lubricus et superbus” like Brihtric, perhaps Brihtric himself, stirs up the wrath of the thegns of Kent by falsely accusing them to the King, and thereby procuring the confiscation of the estates of many of them. For these misdeeds they kill him and burn his house. Then Eadric, whom the King had made ruler over the whole realm (“totius imperii sui præfectum statuerat”), calls on the King to chastise them. The parts of Eadward and Godwine in a later story are thus transposed. Æthelred refuses to inflict any punishment on the Kentish thegns, affirming the wrong-doer to have been rightfully slain (“jure peremptum”). Eadric then takes the law into his own hands; he collects ten thousand men, who are described as being “optime armati,” and invades Kent at their head. The Kentishmen however resist valiantly, and the expedition fails. He then leagues himself with the Danes (“Danorum conciliabula expetit”) and exhorts them to attack, not Kent only, but the whole of Britain (“ad totius Britanniæ fines invadendos”). He describes the nakedness of the land, how the King—at the age of forty-two—was worn out with years, how the princes and people were all sunk in sloth and luxury. All this happens at a time when Swegen is already dead, and when Thurkill has seemingly succeeded to his power (see above, p. 654). So Eadric and Thurkill agree to divide the kingdom. Eadric is to take the East-Angles, seemingly in addition to his Mercian government, and the Danes are to take the North (“regnum post victoriam æqua sorte dividendum se Orientalibus Anglis principari, illos vero aquilone potiri”). Eadric now joins the Danes in the siege of Canterbury. Thurkill is not personally mentioned, but Eadric presently vanishes from the stage, without any explanation. It might not be hard to resolve this fable into its component parts; it is even possible that Eadric’s attack on the metropolitan city of England is really borrowed from his capture of the metropolitan city of Wales.
A point now arises as to the traitorous churchman who betrayed the city. It is not quite clear whether there were two Ælfmærs or one (see Hook, Lives of Archbishops, i. 466). The Chronicles seem to distinguish Ælfmær the traitor from Ælfmær the Abbot; and Florence distinguishes the traitor as “archidiaconus.” Yet if Ælfmær the Abbot was a different man from Ælfmær the traitor, why should the Danes let Abbot Ælfmær go free, when the Archbishop and the rest were seized? I can only suggest, as seems also to have occurred to Dr. Hook, that the story is the reverse story of that of Cinna the conspirator and Cinna the poet, that the Danes mistook one Ælfmær for the other, and let go the innocent one by mistake.
Abbot Ælfmær undoubtedly kept his abbey, and was afterwards raised to the bishopric of Dorset (W. Thorn, X Scriptt. 1782; Hist. St. Aug. 23, 24). Thorn gives two dates, 1017 and 1022, and makes him resign his see and return to his abbey. He signs various charters of Cnut as Bishop; he also appears as Abbot in a writ of Cnut (Cod. Dipl. iv. 9), addressed to him together with Archbishop Lyfing—therefore before 1020—and Bishop Godwine; also as a witness to the marriage settlement of another Godwine (Cod. Dipl. iv. 10) along with King Cnut and Archbishop Lyfing. We find him also in the doubtful charter of 1023, in Cod. Dipl. iv. 23, 25, where he signs in company with Æthelric, Bishop of Dorset, who otherwise seems to have left off signing in 1009. This Ælfmær must not be confounded with the contemporary Ælfmær, Bishop of the South-Saxons, whose signature also appears to the charter in iv. 25. The annals of his own abbey speak of Ælfmær with great reverence; and, though ordinary traitors might be advanced, a churchman who had had an indirect share in the martyrdom of a saint would hardly meet with any favour at the hands of Cnut or of any one else.
In describing the Archbishop’s martyrdom, I have given no heed to the mythical details in Osbern, but I have formed my narrative from the Chroniclers and Thietmar. There is no contradiction between the two accounts, but each fills up gaps in the other. Thus the statement that Ælfheah first promised a ransom and then refused to pay it comes from Thietmar; this explains the whole story, which otherwise is hardly intelligible. We thus see, what otherwise we do not clearly see, both why the Danes kept Ælfheah so long in bonds, and why they were so bitterly enraged against him when he finally refused to pay. And we can easily see why this part of the story should be left out, as tending somewhat to lessen the martyr’s glory, while it is not easy to see why any one should invent or imagine it. Florence makes the Danes demand a ransom of the Archbishop on one Saturday, and tell him that, if he does not pay it, he shall be killed on the next Saturday (“necem ejus usque ad aliud sabbatum protelant”). He seems to connect the demand with the late vote of the Witan rather than with any promise on the part of Ælfheah himself. The intercession of Thurkill comes from Thietmar; it falls in exactly with his conduct directly after. The words put into his mouth imply that he was already a Christian, which he certainly was, and a zealous one, before long. William of Malmesbury, the consistent persecutor of Thurkill, must be uttering mere calumnies when he says that he was “incentor ut lapidaretur archiepiscopus.” I accept from Florence the name and motive of the Dane Thrim or Thrum, who cleft the Archbishop’s head. The Chronicles simply mention the fact. “Ðrim miles,” “Ðrym dux,” “Ðrim eorl” is a signature attached to more than one charter of Cnut (Cod. Dipl. iv. 17, 23, 25). The documents are suspicious; the title of Earl is specially suspicious. But no one would have invented a signature of Thrim, unless he had seen it attached to some genuine document.
Lappenberg (ii. 177 Thorpe) has some good remarks on the impossibility of Osbern’s general story, though he accepts his account of the horrors at Canterbury. Mr. St. John (ii. 30) amusingly takes Lappenberg to task for “misinterpreting Florence and the Saxon Chronicle.” The truth is that Lappenberg did not misinterpret anything, but that Mr. St. John failed to consult Thietmar, though Lappenberg gave him the reference. Sir Francis Palgrave, when he wrote his small history (p. 297), swallowed the whole tale about Eadric and his brother. M. de Bonnechose (ii. 17) has much to tell us about “un chef farouche nommé Turchtill,” but he does not take him to Canterbury.
As Thietmar’s account of the martyrdom is well worth reading, and as his work is much less accessible than most of my authorities, I transcribe it in full;
“Percepi quoque a relatu prædicti hominis Sewaldi factum miserabile ac idcirco memorabile, quod perfida Northmannorum manus, duce ad hoc Thurkilo, Cantuariæ civitatis egregium antistitem, Dunsten nomine, cum cæteris caperent, et vinculis et inedia ac ineffabili pœna, more suo nefando, constringerent. Hic humana motus fragilitate, pecuniam eis promittit, et ad hanc impetrandam inducias posuit, ut si in his acceptabili redemptione mortem momentaneam evadere nequivisset, semet ipsum gemitibus crebris interim purgaret, hostiam Domino vivam ad immolandum. Transactis tunc omnibus designatis temporibus, vorax picarum charybdis Dei famulum evocat, et sibi promissum celeriter persolvi tributum minaciter postulat. Et ille, ut mitis agnus, ‘Præsto sum,’ inquit, ‘paratus ad omnia quæ in me nunc presumitis facere; ac Christi amore, ut suorum merear fieri exemplum servorum, non sum hodie turbatus. Quod vobis mendax videor, non mea voluntas, sed dira efficit mihi egestas. Corpus hoc meum, quod in hoc exsilio supra modum dilexi, vobis culpabile offero, et quid de eo faciatis in vestra esse potestate cognosco; animam autem meimet peccatricem Creatori omnium, vos non respicientem, supplex committo.’ Talia loquentem profanorum agmen vallavit, et diversa hunc ad interficiendum arma congerit. Quod quum eorum dux Thurcil a longe vidisset, celeriter accurrens: ‘Ne, quæso, sic faciatis!’ infit. ‘Aurum et argentum, et omne quod hic habeo vel ullo modo acquirere possum, excepta navi sola, ne in christum Domini peccetis libenti animo vobis omnibus trado.’ Tam dulci affatu infrenata sociorum ira, ferro et saxis durior, non mollitur, sed effuso innocenti sanguine placatur, quem communiter capitibus boum et imbribus lapidum atque lignorum infusione protinus effundunt. Inter tot frementium impetus potitus est cœlesti jucunditate, ut signi sequentis efficacia protinus testatur.” (Pertz, iii. 849.)
That Swegen was acknowledged as King over England seems to be beyond doubt. The Chronicles (1013) say, “And eall þeodscipe hine hæfde þa for fulne cyning.” So Florence; “Ab omni Anglorum populo rex, si jure queat rex vocari, qui fere cuncta tyrannice faciebat, et appellabatur et habebatur.” So Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 754 D); “Suain vero ab omni populo habebatur pro rege;” and again, “Suain jam rex Anglorum.” So, among later writers, Roger of Wendover (i. 447), “Regem Angliæ se jussit appellari;” and Bromton (X Scriptt. 892), “Swanus jam rex Anglorum factus.” William of Malmesbury (ii. 177) loses himself in fine writing; “tota jam Anglia in clientelam illius inclinata.”
On the other hand the English writers are specially fond of giving Swegen the name of Tyrant, a name, it must be remembered, which still keeps the meaning which became familiar in the third century (see p. 137), that of “usurper” or “pretender.” We have already seen Florence use the adverb “tyrannice,” and under the year 1014 he begins the account of Swegen’s death with the words, “Suanus tyrannus, post innumerabilia et crudelia mala, quæ vel in Anglia vel in aliis terris gesserat, ad cumulum suæ damnationis,” &c. So William of Malmesbury (ii. 179), rhetorically describing the evil case of England during Swegen’s occupation, says, “Hæsitabatur totis urbibus quid fieret; si pararetur rebellio, assertorem non haberent; si eligeretur subjectio, placido rectore carerent. Ita privatæ et publicæ opes ad naves cum obsidibus deportabantur, quod non esset ille dominus legitimus, sed tyrannus atrocissimus.” This is developed by Roger of Wendover (i. 448); “Swanus ... tyrannus nequissimus ... evidenter apparet ipsum naturalem non esse dominum [cyne-hlaford] sed tyrannum. Hæsitabat populus quid faceret, quia, si bellum quæreret, ductorem non haberet, si subjectionem eligeret, tyrannum rectorem haberet.” The technical and the rhetorical sense of the word are struggling throughout.
It will be seen at once that the former set of passages are much more distinct than the latter, which are intelligible only on the supposition that something happened, just as in the cases of Cnut and William, which at least passed for a regular election. Florence’s scruple about calling Swegen “rex” seems of itself to imply that he had some kind of formal claim to the title. But I imagine that he was never crowned. The remarkable words of the Chronicles that “all the people held him for full King” almost seem to imply that in strictness he was not full King. This would be exactly the position of a King elected but not crowned. No one hints at a coronation, except perhaps the Encomiast, who tells us (i. 5), “Ubi jam sæpedictus rex tota Anglorum patria est inthronizatus, et ubi jam pene illi nemo restitit, pauco supervixit tempore, sed tamen illud tantillum gloriose.” But if Swegen had been solemnly crowned and anointed, his panegyrist would hardly have contented himself with so vague a word as “inthronizatus.” Florence again (1013) mentions only Ealdormen and thegns as joining in the submission to Swegen, while in the election of Cnut in 1016 he distinctly speaks of Bishops and Abbots as taking a share. And their absence seems implied in a statement of William of Malmesbury (ii. 177), which, though his narrative is evidently inaccurate in many points, is worth notice. This is that Æthelred (p. 361), before he crossed into Normandy, held a meeting of Bishops and Abbots, as being the only people who still clave to him. “Abbates et episcopos, qui nec in tali necessitate dominum suum deserendum putarent, in hanc convenit sententiam.”
This at once brings us to the problem of Swegen’s religion. There seems no reason to doubt the account of his early baptism, his apostasy, his rebellion against his father. The English and German writers seem to know nothing of any reconversion. With Thietmar, for instance, a writer absolutely contemporary, who wrote while the events of 1016 were the last news of the day (see vii. 27, 28; Pertz, iii. 848), Swegen is to the end the “immitis Danorum rex” (vii. 26) and “Suennus persecutor” (28). But the Danish chroniclers assert a repentance and reconversion. So the Chronicle of Eric (Langebek, i. 158) mentions the baptism of Harold Blaatand and the parricidal war of Swegen, without however mentioning Swegen’s early baptism. Thus we read how Swegen “de regno expulsus, tandem ad Christi fidem conversus, baptizatus est et mox, Deo favente, regnum suum recepit.” So the Chronicle of Roskild (i. 376); “Christianis valde inimicus, quos etiam finibus suis expelli præcepit ... tandem Deum cognovit post flagella, quem cœpit quærere eique credere.” We then read how he founded churches and brought Bishop Bernhard from Norway into Scania. So Saxo first (186) describes his persecutions, and then (188) tells of his conversion, how he was “fortunæ sævitia ad amplectendam religionis caritatem adactus.” He too places Swegen’s baptism at this stage; “Quinetiam cunctis circa se rite peractis, lavacri usum promptissimo religionis tenore percepit.” He then, as well as the Roskild Chronicle, goes on to tell of the churches and bishoprics which he founded, and especially how he brought the English Bishop Bernhard from Norway to Lund. But Adam (ii. 53) attributes all this to Cnut. Saxo becomes (191) almost affecting on Swegen’s piety in his old age; “Sveno senilis animæ laboribus fessus, divinis rebus infatigabilem ultimi temporis curam tribuit,” &c. So the Encomiast (i. 5) tells us of the good and Christian advice, as well as the instructions in the art of government, which he gave to his son Cnut before his death; “Præsciens igitur dissolutionem sui corporis imminere, filium suum Cnutonem quem secum habuit advocat, sese viam universæ carnis ingrediendum indicat. Cui dum multa de regni gubernaculo multaque hortaretur de Christianitatis studio, Deo gratias, illi, virorum dignissimo sceptrum commisit regale.”
When we balance the two sets of authorities, I think we shall hardly be inclined to reject the implied witness of the German and English writers in favour either of a careless writer like Saxo or of an abandoned flatterer like the Encomiast. The English legend of his death implies a kind of half belief in the power of Saint Eadmund which is really not unlikely in such a case. It has a kind of parallel in a story of a Danish chief, perhaps the Guthrum-Æthelstan who was found making a vow to Saint Patrick. (See Dr. Todd’s Introduction to the Wars of the Gaedhill and the Gaill, lxiv, lxv, xciii.) We have the like contradictions as to Swegen’s death. The Encomiast goes on to tell us how he prayed his son that his body might be taken to Denmark, and makes incidentally an admission of some importance. Swegen would not be buried in England; “noverat enim quia pro invasione regni illis odiosus erat populis.” He then dies; “Nec multo post postrema naturæ persolvit debita, animam remittendo cœlestibus, terræ autem reddendo membra.” Saxo also (191) makes him die very quietly, perhaps in the odour of sanctity; “Omni humana concussione vacuus, in ipso perfectissimæ vitæ fulgore decessit.” The English story, as it is told by Florence, I have given in the text. The Chronicle records only that “he ended his days.” William of Malmesbury (ii. 179) had heard more stories than one; “pervasor ... ambiguum qua morte, vitam effudit.” He then goes on to tell the story in a form slightly different from that of Florence: Swegen seems to have reached Bury and to be actually harrying the lands of Saint Eadmund; “Dicitur quod terram Sancti Edmundi depopulanti martyr idem per visum apparuerit, leniterque de miseria conventum insolentiusque respondentem in capite perculerit, quo dolore tactum in proximo, ut prædictum est, obiisse.” The Knytlinga Saga, c. 6 (Johnstone, 89), makes Swegen’s death sudden, but says significantly that he died in his bed; “urdo þau tídindi þar, at Sveinn konungr Haralldsson vard bráddaudr um nott í ’reckio sinni.” The tale then goes on to speak of the legend as one told by Englishmen; “Oc er þat sögn Enskra manna, at Eadmundr hinn helgi hafi drepit hann, med þeima hætti sem hinn helgi Mercurius drap Julianum níding.” There is no mention of Saint Mercurius in Florence, but the comparison between Julian and Swegen, according to the English notion of Swegen, is obvious enough, and the name “níding” (= the English “niðing”) applied to Julian is worth notice. In after times Orderic (518 A) attributes the death of Swegen to Saint Eadmund, but without details; “A sancto Edmundo jussu Dei peremptus est.” In Orderic’s eyes Swegen is still “vesanus idololatra.” The same story is told of the Bulgarian King Kalojohannes, who died before Thessalonica in 1207. He was smitten by Saint Dêmêtrios, just as Swegen was by Saint Eadmund. See the Notes to Georgios Akropolites, p. 236 ed. Bonn, and Jireček, Geschichte der Bulgaren, p. 242. There is another tale of the same kind in p. 246.
As for Swegen’s body, Thietmar (vii. 28) says, in a marked but not very clear way; “hujus proles, multum in omnibus patrissantes, dilecti genitoris corpus delatum flebiliter suscipiunt et tumulant, et quidquid dedecoris patri suimet ingeri ab Anglis propositum est, paratis navibus ulcisci studebant.” This must be taken in connexion with the significant remark of the Encomiast quoted in the last paragraph. He presently goes on (ii. 3) to tell us how an English lady (“quædam matronarum Anglicarum”)—had Swegen found his Eadgyth Swanneshals in England?—dug up the body which had been buried in England (“assumpto corpore Sueini regis sua in patria sepulti”), embalmed it, and carried it in a ship to Denmark. She then summoned Cnut and Harold to come and bury their father in the place which he had himself appointed. They come accordingly and bury him honourably in the tomb which he had himself made in the minster of the Holy Trinity of his own rearing (“honorificentiusque illud in monasterio in honore sanctæ Trinitatis ab eodem rege constructo, in sepulcro quod sibi paraverat recondunt”). From the Saga of Olaf Tryggvesson (Johnstone, 101), which says nothing about the manner of Swegen’s death, we find that this minster is Roskild. “Sveirn konungr andadist í Englandi oc færdo Danir han til Danmerkur oc grofo þan í Hroiskeldo hia födr sinum.” The English lady is here left out.
There is, I suppose, no question that the person affectedly described as “Lupus” is really Archbishop Wulfstan. And I have little doubt in fixing the discourse to the year 1014. This is the date given in the heading of one of the manuscripts, while another has 1008. In an insertion in the text itself the discourse is said to have been delivered four years before the death of Æthelred. “Ðis wæs on Æþelredes cyningcs dagum gediht, feower geara fæce ær he forðferde.” This would at first sight look as if the right year were 1012. But the discourse itself contains a passage which shows that it must be later than Æthelred’s flight in 1013. The speaker says (p. 102) that the two most shameful deeds that can be done are to compass one’s lord’s death and to drive him out of the land. Each of these crimes, he says, has been done in England (“ægðer is geworden on ðysum earde”); Eadward has been murdered; we expect the speaker to add that Æthelred has been driven out; but either some words have been lost in the text or else Wulfstan left it to his hearers to fill up the gap for themselves. But in any case the passage would have no force or meaning at any time before Æthelred’s flight. And I am not sure that it is not possible, by a little chronological subtlety, to reconcile the date of 1014 with the other date of four years before the death of Æthelred. The year begins at different times in different reckonings. In a chronology which made the year begin at Lady-day, Æthelred’s death on April 23, 1016 would come in a year 1016–1017, while, if the sermon was preached before March 25, in a year 1013–1014, this might possibly be called the fourth year before the other. It may no doubt have been delivered just at the end of what we should call the year 1013, but the matter of the discourse agrees so well with the matter of the decrees of the Gemót of 1014 that one is strongly tempted to connect the two. It cannot in any case belong to 1012. See p. 361.
It is remarkable how little strictly historical information the speech gives us. Indeed the one historical fact which it mentions is wrong, as Wulfstan says that the body of Eadward the Martyr was burned (“Eadweard man forræde and syððan acwealde and æfter þam forbærnde”). But it is none the less valuable as a picture of the wretchedness of the times, a picture which goes very much into detail in its general descriptions, though without mentioning the names of persons or places. I have summed up most of the chief points in the text. Among the passages which are most worthy of notice are those which relate to the slave-trade. The orator first says (p. 100);
“Earme men syndon sare beswicene and hreowlice besyrwde and ut of þysum earde wide gesealde swyþe unforworhte fremdum to gewealde, and cradolcild geðeowode þurh wælhreowe unlaga for lytelre ðyfðe wide gynd ðas þeode. And freo riht fornumene and ðrælriht genyrwde and ælmesriht gewanode.”
The other passage (102) says;
“Eac we witan full georne hwær seo yrmð gewearð þæt fæder gesealde his bearn wið weorðe, and bearn his modor, and broðor sealde oðerne fremdum to gewealde ut of ðisse ðeode.”
Slavery also brought its own punishment in other ways. The slaves often joined the heathen invaders (“ðeh þræla hwylc hlaforde æthlæpe and of cristendome to wicinge weorðe”); sometimes a thegn’s slave led his own master into slavery (“and oft þræl ðæne ðegen ðe ær wæs his hlaford, cnyt swyðe fæste and wyrcð him to þræle, ðurh Godes yrre”). The lustful excesses of Englishmen, several of whom would hire a harlot in common (p. 102), were avenged by the outrages of the invaders on the wives and daughters of English thegns (“and oft tyne oððe twelfe, ælc after oðrum, scendað and tawiað to bismore micelum ðæs ðegenes cwenan, and hwilum his dohtor oððe nyd magan; þær he onlocað þa læte hine sylfne rancne and rincne and genoh godne ær þæt gewurðe.” p. 103. Cf. Herod, viii. 33). Two or three pirates drove all the people from sea to sea (“oft twegen sæmen oððe ðry hwilum drifað ða drafe Cristenra manna fram sæ to sæ ut ðurh ðæs ðeode gewelede togædere.” p. 103).
Lastly, there is an apparent allusion to the capture of Canterbury and captivity of Ælfheah and others, which certainly falls in better with my notion of that event than with the notion of a general massacre. “We hym gyldað singallice, and hy us hynað dæghwamlice: hy hergiað and hy bærnað, rypað and ræpiað and to scipe lædað.” (p. 103). This almost sounds like the poem in the Chronicles about Ælfheah. One might almost have thought that the speech was made during the time of Ælfheah’s imprisonment, but the manifest allusion to the flight of Æthelred forbids this.
The list of the children of Æthelred, among the genealogies given by Florence (i. 275, Thorpe), is manifestly imperfect. He is there said to have had by his first wife Ælfgifu, the daughter of Ealdorman Æthelberht, three sons, Eadmund, Eadwig, and Æthelstan, and one daughter, Eadgyth. He then mentions the two sons of Emma, Ælfred and Eadward, but does not mention Emma’s daughter Godgifu. This list is copied by R. Higden (270) and Knighton (2314), only changing Ælfgifu daughter of Æthelberht into Æthelgifu daughter of Ecgberht. The three sons of the first marriage here mentioned are those who survived to play a part in the history, but it appears from the charters that Ælfgifu, if that was her name, was the mother of several other sons. I quote the doubtful charters along with the genuine ones, as this is the kind of point in which one who either forged a charter or wrote down a lost charter from memory would be sure to reproduce what he had seen in genuine documents. Thus in a doubtful charter of 990 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 250) we have the signatures of Æthelstan, Ecgberht or Ecgbriht, Eadmund, Eadred, Eadwig, Eadgar, and Eadward. All sign with the title of “clito,” which is of course equivalent to Ætheling. In iii. 270, we have Æthelstan, Ecgbriht, Eadmund, and Eadred, all with the title of “regis filius.” At iii. 308, a seemingly genuine charter of 998, we have the “clitones” Æthelstan, Ecgbriht, Eadmund, Eadred, Eadwig. In iii. 314 (999) we have Æhelstan and Eadred. In iii. 321 (1001) Æthelstan, Ecgbriht, Eadmund, Eadred, Eadwig, and Eadgar; and the same list in iii. 325 (1002). At iii. 330, in a doubtful charter of 1004, Æthelstan, as the eldest son, signs on behalf of his brothers. In a genuine charter of the same year (iii. 334) we have the same list which I have already quoted with the omission of the name Eadred. In vi. 142 (1002) we have the same list with the name of Eadred. In another of the same year, vi. 146, the list stands, Æthelstan, Ecgbriht, Eadmund, Eadward, Eadwig, Eadgar. In vi. 153 (1005) the list is Æthelstan, Ecgbriht, Eadmund, Eadric, Eadwig, Eadgar, Eadward. In 1007 (vi. 156) it stands, Æthelstan, Eadmund, Eadred, Eadwig, Eadgar, Eadward. In another of the same year (vi. 159) Æthelstan signs on behalf of all his brothers (“Ego Æðelstanus filius regis cum fratribus meis clitonibus adplaudens consensi”). In a doubtful charter of 1013 (vi. 166) the signatures are Æthelstan, Eadmund, Eadward, Ælfred, and Eadwig, and in a genuine one of 1014 (vi. 169) we have Eadmund, Eadwig, Eadward, and Ælfred. Lastly, in 1015 (vi. 171) we have Eadmund and Eadward only.
From all this it seems certain that Æthelstan was the eldest son and Eadmund the third, the intermediate brother Ecgbriht dying, it would seem, about 1005. It now becomes an important point whether Æthelstan was alive at the time of his father’s death. This I shall discuss in another Note. His will (iii. 361), a very important document, of which I shall have to speak again, is witnessed by Eadmund, and contains bequests both to him and to Eadwig. We may perhaps also infer that Eadred was dead as well as Ecgbriht, and Eadric also, if the single signature of that name be not a mistake. But from the mention of “brothers” (“fratres”) of Eadmund as surviving him (see page 405) one might be inclined to think that one at least of Eadmund’s younger brothers, besides Eadwig, was alive at the beginning of 1017. For Cnut had much more reason to dread opposition from Eadmund’s brothers of the whole blood than from the sons of Emma. And if Æthelstan, Ecgbriht, and perhaps Eadred, were dead, Eadgar might be alive. There would also seem to have been an Eadward a son of the first marriage, as (to say nothing of the doubtful charter of 990, and of that of 984, mentioned below) Eadward the son of Emma could not have signed in 1002, though he might in 1005, if the pen was held in the child’s hand. If so, this elder Eadward doubtless died before the birth of his namesake.
Of the daughters of the first marriage Florence mentions only Eadgyth the wife of Eadric. But we seem to have evidence enough for Wulfhild the wife of Ulfeytel (see p. 654) and for Ælfgifu the wife of Uhtred (see p. 330). We also need a fourth daughter to account for the King’s son-in-law Æthelstan, who died in the battle of Ringmere (see p. 347).
The mother of these children, as I have said, is called by Florence Ælfgifu, the daughter of Ealdorman Æthelberht. I cannot however find any Ealdorman of that name. Æthelred of Rievaux (X Scriptt. 362, 372) calls her the daughter of Earl Thored (see p. 661). William of Malmesbury (ii. 179) professes ignorance of her name, and speaks of her birth as ignoble; “Erat iste Edmundus non ex Emma natus, sed ex quadam alia quam fama obscura recondit.” He then goes on to magnify Eadmund, saying that he was one “qui patris ignaviam, matris ignobilitatem, virtute sua probe premeret si Parcæ parcere nossent.” Roger of Wendover speaks nearly to the same effect in i. 451. I do not understand Lappenberg’s note (431, ii. 163 Thorpe), where he quotes the Scholiast on Adam of Bremen as calling her “Afficud,” which he takes to be Ælflæd. Mr. Thorpe (Dipl. Angl. 542) further identifies her with the Æthelflæd whose will he has there printed. But, at least in Pertz’ edition (ii. 51, Schol. 39), the name is “Afelrud,” and she is described as the step-mother of Eadward the son of Eadgar, that is, of course, Ælfthryth. I would rather identify her with the Ælfgifu whose will appears in Cod. Dipl. iii. 359. This cannot belong to Ælfgifu-Emma, as it speaks of her sister Ælfwaru and her brother’s wife Æthelflæd. (These three names again come together in the will of Wynflæd, Cod. Dipl. iii. 293.) It reads to me like the will of a King’s wife, yet it contains bequests not only to the Ætheling but to the Lady. Mr. Kemble gives it the date of 1012, and a bequest to Bishop Æthelwold (1006–1014) shows that it cannot be far from that date. Several questions arise out of this. Was Æthelred’s first wife divorced to make room for the Norman Lady? Or was she only a mistress or Danish wife? I do not think she is ever called “regina,” and Æthelred of Rievaux seems pointedly to contrast her with “regina Emma.” And again, were all these sons and daughters children of one mother? There is a very strange charter (Cod. Dipl. iii. 204) which must be spurious or at least wrongly dated, as Æthelred, born in 969, cannot have had six sons in 984; but the signatures are worth notice from their very strangeness. They run thus, “Æðelstan,” “Eadgar clito,” “Eadmund frater prædicti clitonis,” “Eadweard clito,” “Eadward filius regis,” “Eadwig frater clitonum.” This does not read like a list of sons of one mother. Lappenberg (u. s.) makes Æthelred marry in his seventeenth year, but I have not found his authority. At any rate his third son Eadmund cannot have been born, as Roger of Wendover (i. 422) tells us, in 981, when Æthelred was twelve years old.
It should again be noticed that in the will of Æthelstan (Cod. Dipl. iii. 363) there is no mention of his mother, living or dead, and that he speaks of his grandmother Ælfthryth as having reared him (“Ælfðryðe mínre ealdormódor ðe me áfédde”). Ælfthryth was living in 999, as appears by her signature in Cod. Dipl. iii. 314; perhaps later, as she (Cod. Dipl. iii. 353) addresses a writ to Archbishop Ælfric who lived to 1006. The young Æthelings and their grandmother are again spoken of in the will of Wynflæd (Cod. Dipl. iii. 292), which, as mentioning Archbishop Sigeric, comes between 990 and 994. But here again is no mention of their mother, unless she lurks among the cloud of witnesses, “Ælfwaru, Ælfgifu, and Æthelflæd,” names which we have just before seen in company.
I am afraid therefore that I must leave the first marriage of Æthelred shrouded in some obscurity. The Scandinavian writers cut the knot by giving all Æthelred’s children to Emma. Thus in the Knytlinga Saga (Johnstone, 130) Cnut is called Eadmund’s stepfather, and again (139) Emma is distinctly called the mother of Eadmund and his brothers. So Snorro (ib. 97), speaking of the Norman Dukes, says expressly that Emma, daughter of Richard and sister of Dukes William and Robert, whomever he may mean, married Æthelred, and was mother of Eadmund, Eadward the Good, Eadwig, and Eadgar (“Eadmundr oc Eadvardr hinn gódi, Eatvígr oc Eatgeir”). It is odd that the last two names should have been remembered.
So Thietmar (Pertz, vii. 28) mistakes Æthelstan and Eadmund for children of Emma. Walter Map, on the other hand (De Nugis, 203), confounds the sons of Emma with their nephews, the sons of Eadmund and Ealdgyth. At least Eadward and Ælfred reached Normandy (see p. 361) only by the help of the Hungarian King. Cnut, having married Emma, tries in vain to find her sons; “Rapuerat enim eos, ut præparavit Altissimus, a tumultu et turbine miles quidam, et clam in cymba positos in portum impulit, et regiis ornatos insigniis cum brevi cognitionis et cognationis eorum dispositioni divinæ supposuit. Illi autem in die secundo a mercatoribus Pannoniæ vagientes inventi sunt, et ab Hungarorum rege redempti, et ad avunculum suum ducem [Normannorum sc.] remissi.” This story is one of a whole class of tales of persons exposed in boats. See Historical Essays, First Series, p. 13.