Chapter XXXV: Appendix (4)

I conceive that my notions about the Witenagemót do not differ essentially from those of Mr. Kemble. The process by which a primary Assembly in a large country naturally shrinks up into a small official or aristocratic body could not be better drawn out than they are in his chapter on the Witenagemót (Saxons in England, ii. 191 et seqq.). He winds up (p. 195) with the words; “At what exact period the change I have attempted to describe was effected, is neither very easy to determine nor very material. It was probably very gradual, and very partial; indeed it may never have been formally recognized, for here and there we find evident traces of the people’s being present at, and ratifying the decisions of the Witan.” In a note on the next page Mr. Kemble goes on to refute the strange notion of Sir Francis Palgrave (ii. ccclxxxvi.) that a property qualification was needed for a seat in the Witenagemót. In fact Mr. Kemble’s remarks are all that could be wished, if he had only brought forward more clearly some of those “evident traces” to which he cursorily alludes.

I will try, partly at least, to fill up the gap. Take for instance the very beginning of recorded English legislation, the Dooms of Æthelberht (Thorpe, i. 2); “Gif cyning his _leode_ to him gehated.” _Leode_ here surely means _people_ in the widest sense. So in the Preface to the Laws of Wihtræd (p. 36); “Ðær þa eadigan fundon _mid ealra gemedum_ þas domas.” The great men propose, the people accept, just as in the _concilia_ described by Tacitus. So the deposition of Sigeberht in 755 (of which more in the next Note) was, according to Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 729 C), who is clearly following some earlier writer, the act of the whole West-Saxon people; “Congregati sunt proceres et _populus totius regni_, et provida deliberatione et _unanimi consensu omnium_ expulsus est a regno. Kinewlf vero, juvenis egregius de regia stirpe oriundus, electus est in regem.” So the “Decretum Episcoporum et aliorum sapientum de Kancia,” addressed to Æthelstan (Thorpe, i. 216), whatever its exact bearing, is drawn up in the name of the “thaini, comites [eorlas], et _villani_ [ceorlas].” So the “Judicia Civitatis Lundoniæ” (p. 228, Schmid, 156) are confirmed by all, “ægder ge eorlisce ge ceorlisce,” in the Latin “comites et villani.” So in the Chronicles a popular element is often mentioned in the election of Kings and in other national acts. In 959 Eadgar was, according to Florence, “ab omni Anglorum populo electus.” In 1016 Eadmund is chosen by the Witan and the citizens (burhwaru) of London. So in 1036 Harold the First is chosen by most of the thegns north of Thames and by the _liðsmen_ or sailors of London. In 1041 “_all folk_ chose Eadward to King.” So in 1066 Harold took the kingdom “as _men_ chose him thereto.” So in 1048, when Godwine proposes to interfere in the wars of the North, “hit þuhte unræd _eallum folce_.” So too Godwine, on his return in 1052, makes his speech in the _Mycel Gemót_ “wið Eadward cyng his hlaford and wið _ealle landleodan_.” So with regard to a local body, in the account of a Scirgemót of Herefordshire in Cod. Dipl. iv. 54, though the thegns (“ealle ða þegnas on Herefordscíre”) are mentioned in a special way, yet the final judgement is given by the popular voice—“be _ealles ðæs folces_ leáfe and gewitnesse.” With regard to the action of the citizens of London, the case no doubt simply was that they, being on the spot, could assert this right, which others at a distance could not do. But it must be remembered that till the eleventh century the Witan did not commonly meet either in London or in any other of the chief towns. Possibly, when a Gemót was held at Winchester or Exeter, the citizens of those towns would hold the same position as the Londoners did when the Gemót was held in their city. Something of this kind seems to be referred to in a charter of Æthelstan (Cod. Dipl. ii. 194) of the year 934—a charter remarkable on other grounds from the vast number of signatures, including four vassal Kings, and evidently passed in what was indeed a _Mycel Gemót_. It is given “in civitate opinatissima [sic] quæ Winteceaster nuncupatur, tota populi generalitate sub alis regiæ dapsilitatis ovanti.” The citizens both of London and of Winchester seem to be mentioned as electors of Kings as late as the accession of Stephen. (See W. Malms., Hist. Nov. i. 11.) Even as late as 1461, Edward Earl of March was elected King by a tumultuous assembly of the citizens of London, and the citizens were foremost in the revolution which placed Richard the Third on the throne in 1483. These elections are fully described in Hall’s Chronicle, pp. 253, 372. (See Growth of English Constitution, 204.) And that of Edward comes out well in the Collections of a London Citizen (Camden Society), 215, where we read how the Earl of March “enteryed unto the cytte of London, and there he toke uppon hym the crowne of Inglond by the avysse of the lordys spyrytual and temporalle, and by the _elexyon of the comyns_. And so he be-gan hys rayne.” These are plainly the last traces of the right which the citizens had more regularly exercised in the elections of Eadmund Ironside and of Harold the son of Cnut.

These passages seem distinctly to imply that every freeman had a theoretical right to attend. Some of the expressions used might be applied without impropriety to a representative assembly; but they could not be applied to a body not representative, unless, in theory at least, it took in the whole nation. These passages prove also that some form of demanding the assent of the people at large was always retained. But the retention of some such usage is almost proved, without going any further, by the custom which still exists of presenting the King at his coronation for the acceptance of the people (see vol. iii. Appendix E). This is at once the last trace of our elective monarchy, and the last vestige of the ancient right of the Teutonic freeman to take a direct part in the affairs of the nation. We may see the working of the same process on the continent in what Waitz, iii. 56, says of the Frankish Assemblies under the Karlings; “Das Volk, oder die Grossen, welche auf den allgemeinen Versammlungen im Namen des Volkes handelten.” But in the quasi-official language of Einhard (Vita Kar. 1) it is “publicus populi sui conventus,” and the Continuator of Fredegar (117 a, 752) speaks of the change of dynasty as made “cum consilio omnium Francorum.”

The charter of 934, which I have just quoted, starts a point of quite another kind, namely the question as to the attendance of the vassal Celtic princes in the English Witenagemót. On this I have said something in p. 132. The attendance of the Welsh Kings is not uncommon, especially in the reign of Æthelstan. They often sign charters with the titles of _subregulus_ or _undercyning_. See the signatures, ranging from 930 to 956 (Cod. Dipl. ii. 170, 173, 193, 196, 203, 292, 304, 326, 413; v. 199, 208, 217), of the _subreguli_ Howel, Morcant, Owen, Juthwal, Tudor, Syferth, Jacob, Jukil, and Wurgeat. The Cumbrian signatures are rarer, but we have those of Eugenius in 931 (v. 199) and 937 (ii. 203), and of Malcolm in 966 and 970 (ii. 413, iii. 59). The signature of Kenneth of Scotland is attached to three charters (Cod. Dipl. ii. 413, iii. 69; Palgrave, ii. ccli. cclii.), but the authenticity of all three has been suspected. Still his presence at the great ceremony at Chester shows that the appearance of the King of Scots in the Witenagemót was a thing that might be looked for. The treaty between Richard the First and William the Lion, by which the novel claims of Henry the Second were given up, contains elaborate rules for the reception of the King of Scots on his way to the King’s court as due of ancient custom (Palgrave, ii. cccxxxix.).

NOTE R. p. 106.
THE RIGHT OF THE WITAN TO DEPOSE THE KING.

Mr. Kemble (ii. 219) formally reckons among the powers of the Witan that they “had the power to depose the King, if his government was not conducted for the benefit of the people.” He adds that “it is obvious that the very existence of this power would render its exercise an event of very rare occurrence.” He then goes on to discuss the case of Sigeberht at length, and adds, “I have little doubt that an equally formal, though hardly equally justifiable, proceeding severed Mercia from Eádwig’s kingdom, and reconstituted it as a separate state under Eádgár; and lastly from Simeon of Durham we learn that the Northumbrian Alchred was deposed and exiled, with the counsel and consent of all his people.”

This last Northumbrian case is worth notice, as showing that a perfectly legal proceeding may lurk under words which at first sight seem to imply mere violence. The two Chronicles, Worcester and Peterborough, which record the deposition of Ealhred in the year 774, use the words, “Her Norðhymbra fordrifon heora cyning Alchred of Eoforwic on Eastertid, and genamon Æþelred Molles sunu him to hlaforde.” So Florence, “Festi paschalis tempore Northymbrenses regem suum Alhredum, Molli regis successorem, Eboraco expulere, filiumque ejusdem regis Molli, Æthelberhtum, in regem levavere.” This might suggest the notion of a mere revolutionary act; but the words of Simeon bring out the legal character of the deposition much more strongly; “Alcredus rex, consilio et consensu _suorum omnium_, regiæ familiæ ac principum destitutus societate, exilio imperii mutavit majestatem.” With this new light before us, we better understand the force of the words of the Chronicles, “of Eoforwic on Eastertid.” It is plain that Ealhred was deposed by the Easter Gemót of his kingdom assembled in his capital. Simeon then goes on to speak of Æthelred as “tanto honore coronatus;” and it should be noticed that in 779, when he records the expulsion of Æthelred himself, richly deserved as it was by the treacherous murder of three of his Ealdormen, he does not use the same legal language; “Ethelredo expulso de regali solio et in exilio fugato, cogitur mœstos inire modos miserasque habere querelas. Elfwald vero filius Oswlfi, Ethelredo expulso, regnum Northanhymbrorum suscepit.” So in the Chronicles (778), “And þa feng Alfwold to rice and Æþeldred bedraf on lande.”

To turn to the case of Sigeberht, I have already quoted (see above, p. 400) the words of Henry of Huntingdon, in whose account the legal action of the nation stands out most clearly; but the consent of the Witan appears also in all the other accounts. In the Chronicles (755) we read, “Her Cynewulf benam Sigebryhte his mæge his rices and Wæst-seaxna witan for unrihtum dædum butan Hamtunscire.” So Florence, “Cynewlfus, de prosapia Cerdici regis oriundus, auxilium sibi ferentibus West-Saxonicis primatibus, regem illorum Sigebertum, ob multitudinem suorum iniquorum factorum, regno exterminavit, et loco ejus regnavit; unam tamen provinciam, quæ Hantunscire dicitur, eidem concessit.” And even Æthelweard (ii. 17), who seems to tell the story with a certain royalist leaning against Cynewulf, witnesses to the same facts; “Post decursum unius anni ex quo Sigebryht regnare cœperat, cujus regnum invadens Cynulf abstraxit ab eo, et sapientes totius partis occidentalis facietenus traxit cum eo propter inconditos actus supradicti regis; nec illi derelicta pars potestatis nisi provincia una quæ Hamtunscire nuncupatur.” In this case, as in the case of Ealhred, we may remark the different colourings given to the same action. The deposition of Sigeberht was clearly a legal act, but it might be spoken of as an “invasio,” just as equally legal acts later in our history could be also spoken of as “invasiones.”

With regard to the separation of Mercia from the kingdom of Eadwig, spoken of by Mr. Kemble, the whole of Eadwig’s reign is shrouded in such darkness that, as it forms no part of my immediate subject, I have rather avoided going into it. But at any rate that separation would present one point of difference from any of the other cases. As Eadgar seems to have been Under-king of the Mercians from the death of Eadred, the act by which the Mercians threw off the authority of Eadwig was rather the rejection of the supremacy of an over-lord than the deposition of an immediate sovereign.

Of the other cases which I have mentioned in the text, those which come within the range of my History I have discussed in their proper places. Among the later cases, some may have expected to see the names of Henry the Sixth and Charles the First. But neither of these Kings were, in strictness of speech, deposed. By deposition I understand an act by which a King, whose right to be King is acknowledged up to that time, is, by virtue of such act, declared to be no longer King. This was not exactly the case with Henry the Sixth. When Richard Duke of York claimed the crown in preference to Henry, a compromise was made, by which Henry was to keep the crown for life and Richard was to become his heir-apparent. It was therefore the Yorkist theory that Henry reigned by virtue of this agreement, and that, when he afterwards, as was alleged, broke the agreement, the Crown was thereby forfeited and the Duke became _de jure_ King. (See Growth of the English Constitution, p. 149.) Yet, as we have seen, a kind of popular election was thought needful to confirm the rights of his son. Charles the First, it is still more clear, was not deposed. He was tried and executed _being King_, a process of which English history supplies no other example. The depositions of Edward the Second and Richard the Second are too plain to need comment. James the Second was clearly deposed in Scotland; whether the vote against him in England could be strictly called a vote of deposition is less clear. On the character of this famous vote, logically so absurd, yet practically so thoroughly adapted to all the circumstances of the time, see Macaulay, Hist. of Eng. ii. 623. So on the vote of the Scottish Estates, iii. 285.

I have spoken in the text of that milder form of deposition by which the King was removed from his authority without being formally removed from his office. Of this process the simpler forms of our early constitution will hardly supply an instance, unless we see an approach to it in the engagement (see p. 368) entered into by Æthelred on his restoration to rule in all things by the advice of his Witan. But it was done in the cases of Henry the Third, Edward the Second, and Richard the Second; in the two latter cases the act was a kind of forewarning of the severer punishment which was to follow.

It must be remembered that throughout this argument I am dealing with the legal right of deposition, not with the justice of its exercise in any particular case. As to Sigeberht, and as to Ealhred too, both of them clearly deserved their fate, but how far in either case the West-Saxon and Northumbrian Witan may have been influenced by any personal intrigues of Cynewulf or Æthelred, who play in the two stories respectively the part of Henry of Bolingbroke or William of Orange, is not to the purpose. So too with the later fates of the deposed Kings, with the certain murder of Edward, the all but certain murder of Richard, the constitutional question has nothing to do. The deposed prince was let off the most easily in the earliest case. Sigeberht, deposed from the kingdom of Wessex, was allowed to retain Hampshire as Under-king. Having murdered one of his Ealdormen, he was banished altogether by Cynewulf, the new head King, and he was afterwards killed by a private enemy.

For instances of deposition among other Teutonic nations see Kemble, ii. 221. The most famous case of all, the deposition of Childeric and election of Pippin, was somewhat spoiled by the application to the Bishop of Rome about a matter which it clearly lay within the power of the Frankish nation to settle without his interference.

NOTE S. p. 107.
THE ELECTION OF KINGS.

Some passages bearing on the election of Kings by the Witan, that is in truth by the people, have been already quoted (see above, p. 602). At every stage of my history I shall have to call attention to the way in which the right of free election was carried out in practice. But it is worth while to point out how long the old Teutonic feeling survived, and at how late a time it was still formally put forth as a constitutional principle. Nowhere can a better exposition of the ancient doctrine as to the election of Kings be found than in the speech which Matthew Paris (Chronica Majora, ii. 454, ed. Luard) puts into the mouth of Archbishop Hubert at the election of King John. Whether the speech is Hubert’s or Matthew’s matters little; or rather, if it be Matthew’s own, it is the more valuable, as carrying on the ancient tradition still later. No one has any right to be King unless he be chosen by the whole people of the land on account of his merits (“nullus prævia ratione alii succedere habet regnum, nisi ab _universitate regni_ unanimiter, invocata Spiritus gratia, electus”), but if any member of the royal family be worthy, he is to be preferred to any one else (“verum si quis ex stirpe regis defuncti aliis præpolleret, pronius et promptius in electionem ejus est consentiendum”). The preamble is excellent, but the practical inference is strange, namely that Duke John, for his many virtues, should be chosen King. With this speech, made by, or attributed to, an English Archbishop, we may compare the similar doctrine of elective monarchy laid down by a French Archbishop, Adalbero of Rheims, at the election of Hugh Capet in 987; “Non ignoramus Karolum fautores suos habere, qui eum dignum regno ex parentum collatione contendant. Sed si de hoc agitur, _nec regnum jure hæreditario adquiritur_, nec in regnum promovendus est nisi quem non solum corporis nobilitas, sed et animi sapientia illustrat, fides munit, magnanimitas firmat. Legimus in annalibus, clarissimi generis Imperatoribus ignavia ab dignitate præcipitatis, alios modo pares, modo impares successisse.” (Richer, iv. 11.) So again the combination of the elective and hereditary principles, as found in all the old Teutonic kingdoms, is well set forth by Rudolf Glaber, i. 3; “Totius regni primates _elegerunt_ Ludovicum, filium videlicet prædicti regis Caroli, unguentes eum super se regem _hæreditario jure_ regnaturum.” We shall find as nearly as possible the same words in an important passage of our Chronicles (A. 1042).

NOTE T. p. 151.
NAMES OF KINGDOMS AND NATIONS.

It should be carefully borne in mind that, throughout the times with which we are dealing, two systems of geographical nomenclature were in use, we might say in rival use. The ancient names, Roman or ante-Roman, still survived, as many of them survive still, as purely geographical descriptions, and the new names, the names of states and kingdoms named after their inhabitants, were still only in process of forming. I have said something of this in an earlier Note (see above, p. 596) with regard to the nomenclature of our own island; the nomenclature of continental countries we shall find to be still more confused. But the two classes of names can be clearly distinguished. _Gallia_ and _Britannia_ were doubtless in their origin names derived from a people, no less than _Francia_ and _Anglia_; but, in the times with which we have to deal, _Gallia_ and _Britannia_ had become purely geographical terms, simply expressing a certain extent of territory on the map, while _Francia_ and _Anglia_ (if the latter name was used at all) were political names, expressing the territory occupied or ruled by _Franci_ and _Angli_. The shifting of names of this latter class are frequent and well known. The modern kingdom of Saxony, for instance, has not an inch of ground in common with the Saxony which was conquered by Charles the Great, and the various meanings of the word Burgundy have become a proverb among the learned and a touchstone to bewray the half-learned. Another cause of confusion is that the ancient geographical names were constantly used, not only in their straightforward geographical sense, but also by way of fine writing, in which case they are constantly used affectedly, and often inaccurately. This is especially the case with Richer. Take for instance the opening of his second book, where he describes the political parties of his own day in the geographical language of Cæsar, “Galli namque Celtæ cum Aquitanis Hugonem Rotberti regis filium, Belgæ vero Ludovicum Karoli sequebantur.” Here we get a real distinction of race and language. The _Celtæ_ and _Aquitani_ are the nations of the Romance tongues, the forerunners of the future French and the future Provençal, while the _Belgæ_ mark the still Teutonic part of the kingdom, whose inhabitants Richer elsewhere (i. 47) distinctly calls _Germani_. But none would guess this from the antiquated phraseology which he chooses. A still more remarkable instance of Richers way of misusing antiquated terms will be found in a passage which seems to have misled Sir Francis Palgrave. Sir Francis, describing the campaign of 944 (see p. 225) says (ii. 543), “Among other vassals or dependants ... Otho was joined by Conrad ‘King of Geneva,’ under which style we might have some difficulty in recognizing the King of Burgundy, yet the title is not undeserving of notice, as embodying the very few remaining recollections of a kingdom practically effaced from historical memory.” This I do not understand. As Sir Francis gives no references, I cannot undertake to deny that Conrad may be called “King of Geneva” somewhere, but he certainly is not so called in any of the most obvious authorities for this campaign. Widukind does not mention him at all. In Flodoard (A. 946) he is, as usual, “Cisalpinæ Galliæ rex.” In Richer (ii. 53) he is “Rex Genaunorum.” (Did Sir Francis read “Genevanorum”?) It is strange geography of Richer to place the Genauni in Burgundy, but we find again in ii. 98, “urbem Vesontium, quæ est metropolis Genaunorum, cui etiam in Alpibus sitæ Aldis Dubis præterfluit.” The ecclesiastical province of Besançon answers almost exactly to _Transjurane_ Burgundy. In iii. 86 the same Conrad is, still more wonderfully, made into “Rex Alemannorum.” Richer, in short, despised the geography of his own age, and used his obsolete names without much discretion.

But this affectation extends to better writers than Richer. Lambert himself constantly uses the word _Galliæ_ in a vague sort of way, or rather as equivalent to Germany. Thus, for instance, we hear of the church of Fulda as one of the chief churches of the Gauls “illius monasterii opes usque ad id temporis florentissimæ erant cunctisque _Galliarum_ ecclesiis eminebant.” A 1063), while Mainz (A. 1074) is “caput et princeps _Gallicarum_ urbium.” And the word is used in the same sense in several other passages under those two years. So, as I have implied in discussing Richer’s description of Conrad, the name “Gallia Cisalpina,” as used by Flodoard, always, I cannot conceive why, means the kingdom of Burgundy or some part of it (see A. 924, 937, 939, 946). Of these the third is the passage referred to in p. 203. M. Gaudet in his note on Richer takes the “Hugo Cisalpinus” there spoken of for Hugh the Black, one of the Princes of the ducal Burgundy who is mentioned by Flodoard the next year. But there can be no doubt that the person meant is Hugh of Provence, the famous King of Italy.

But the great source, not so much of confusion as of vague and strange descriptions or rather indications of kingdoms and states, arises from the fact that none of the states formed by the division of the Carolingian Empire, none at least of those north of the Alps, had as yet won for itself a geographical name. There were old national names in abundance, Saxony, Bavaria, Aquitaine, Britanny, but there were no general names to express the kingdoms of Charles, Lothar, and Lewis, respectively. Each King was a King of the Franks; he reigned over so much of the old Frankish dominion as he could get hold of; he had no distinct and recognized national or territorial title; he and his kingdom had to be described, or rather pointed out, as they might be. We nowhere see this better than in the way in which our own Chronicles under the year 887 record the division of the Empire after the deposition of Charles the Third. The four kingdoms are clearly marked out, but not one of the four has a territorial name; the three which lie north of the Alps are simply pointed to geographically; “Earnulf wunode on þam lande be æstan Rine; and Hroðulf þa feng to þam middel rice, and Oda to þam west dæle, and Beorngar and Wiða to Langbeardna lande.” This is at least clearer than the description given by Erchempert (Hist. Langobardorum, 11; Pertz, iii. 245) of the earlier division between the sons of Lewis the Pious; “Ab hoc Francorum divisum est regnum, quoniam Lutharius Aquensem et Italicum, Ludoguicus [this form, with the _gu_ for the _w_, is worth noting philologically] autem Baioarium, Karlus vero, ex alia ortus genitrice, Aquitaneum regebat imperium.” Here, in the hopelessness of finding a name for Lothar’s kingdom, we find an unique “regnum” or “imperium Aquense,” while Saxony and the rest of Germany are merged in Bavaria, and Neustria is merged in Aquitaine. Another way of distinguishing kingdoms and their inhabitants was to describe them by the names of their rulers, as in the passage of Widukind (i. 29) quoted in p. 155; “Unde usque hodie certamen est de regno Karolorum stirpi et posteris Odonis, concertatio quoque regibus Karolorum et Orientalium Francorum super regno Lotharii.” Here “regnum Lotharii” is of course Lotharingia, Lothringen, Lorraine, though it must be remembered that the name takes in a far wider territory than the modern duchy. So Gregory the Seventh (Jaffé, Mon. Greg. 465) speaks of “regnum Lotharii” and Bonitho (ib. 631) of “Lothariorum regnum.” And in the continuation of Regino (Pertz, i. 618) “Lothariensi regnum” is opposed to Gallia Romana. But it should also be noticed that the Western Kingdom also has no name; its Kings are “reges Karolorum;” it was quite a chance that France was not permanently called _Carolingia_ to match _Lotharingia_. So in Widukind (iii. 2) the Western kingdom is “regnum Karoli,” though in the reign of a Lewis; so, still more distinctly, in the Gesta Episcoporum Cameracensium (i. 55, iii. 50; Pertz, vii. 421, 481) the inhabitants of France and Lotharingia are distinguished as “_Karlenses_” and “Lotharienses.” So in the same work (i. 116; Pertz, vii. 452) “Robertus rex _Karlensium_” is coupled with “Richardus rex Rotomagensium.” And strangest of all, in the Chronicle of the Counts of Flanders (Corp. Chron. Fland. i. 86) the Emperor Henry the Third is spoken of as “Rex Lothariensis, qui et Cæsar Imperator Augustus appellatus est.” (So in our own Chronicle, 1126, “þone kasere Heanri of Loherenge;” in the next year we hear of “ðes Caseres wif of Sexlande.”) This way of describing countries by their rulers is very common just at this time, when divisions were springing up for which there were no received geographical names. Thus Germany is sometimes “Terra Heinrici” (Flodoard, 933); Flanders and Normandy are, in our own Chronicles, “Baldwines land” and “Ricardes rice.” But Lotharingia, perhaps as the name of the most purely artificial division of all, is the only name of the class which has survived.

This same passage leads us to the way which (except in the case of Lotharingia, a kingdom which almost always bore the name of its founder) became more usual, that of distinguishing the kingdoms and their inhabitants by some distinctive epithet of race or language, or by some word which simply points to them geographically. The difficulty, as I have already hinted, arises from the still abiding notion of the existence of a single Frankish kingdom, however many might be the Kings among whom its administration was divided. None of the Kings, nor yet the subjects of any of the Kings, would give up their right to be at least one of the Kings of the Franks, to be at least part of the people of the Franks. While such a state of feeling was rife, it was impossible that any King or kingdom should bear any title distinctly and permanently recognized. A King most commonly describes himself simply as “Rex;” any more particular description might have been construed either as a surrender of his own rights or as an infringement of the rights of some other prince. Thus it has often been remarked that in the act of election (see Pertz, Legg. i. 547, cf. the election of Lewis at p. 558) by which Boso was raised to the kingship of Burgundy—the “middel rice” of our Chronicles—he is simply made King without any particular title, and without any particular geographical extent being traced out for his kingdom. It was not so while the Frankish dominions remained undivided. In the days of the early Karlings, the King had a title and his dominions had a name. His dominions were _Francia_; he himself was the _Rex Francorum_. In Einhard, _Francia_ means the whole territory occupied or ruled by the Franks and their King. This comes out very strongly in the Life of Charles, c. 2; “Pater ejus [Pippini] Karolus, qui tyrannos per totam Franciam dominatum sibi vindicantes oppressit, et Sarracenos Galliam occupare tentantes duobus magnis prœliis, uno in Aquitania apud Pictavium civitatem, altero juxta Narbonam apud Birram fluvium devicit.” Here, with the strictest precision, _Gallia_ is a part of _Francia_ and _Aquitania_ is a part of _Gallia_. And this will be found to be the common use throughout the Life and Annals. So the Monk of Saint Gallen (Gesta Karoli, i. 10; Pertz, ii. 735) defines Francia in the widest sense to take in “omnes Cis-alpinas provincias.” But the name _Francia_ gradually came to be confined to two portions of the original _Francia_, one on each side of the Rhine, those where the name still survives alike in _France_ and in _Franken_ or _Franconia_. These two had therefore to be distinguished by various epithets. Thus we find “Francia Teutonica” opposed to “Francia Latina” and “Francia Orientalis” opposed to “Francia Occidentalis.” Sometimes “Francia” and “Gallia” are opposed, as in Ann. Xant. 877 (Pertz, ii. 234), and the use is not uncommon in the Annals of Fulda, as 880 (i. 393). See too specially Bruno, Bell. Sax. 36 (Pertz, v. 342), and Liudprand (Antapodosis, i. 14, 16), who talks of “Franciam quam Romanam dicunt,” and elsewhere (iii. 20) of “Francorum genus Teutonicorum.” See also Widukind, i. 16, 29; Wipo, Vit. Chuon. 1, 6, 27, and especially c. 2, where he describes the Rhine as the frontier of “Gallia” and “Germania,” and reckons up the nations in both countries which formed the kingdom of Conrad, among which are “Franci Orientales,” and “Franci qui supra Rhenum habitant,” an unusual distinction. See also Otto of Freising, Gest. Frid. i. 34, where he speaks of “Orientalis Francia,” and Ann. vii. 5, where he distinguishes “Franci Romani et Teutonici.” In the Annals of Saint Vedast, 887 (Pertz, ii. 203), we find “Franci Australes” and “inferiores;” but in those Annals “Franci” and “Francia” commonly mean the Western kingdom. The word is sometimes used in this sense in the phrases “rex Franciæ” and “regnum Franciæ” (see above, p. 595, and Dudo, 97 D). But _Francia_, as used by writers within the Western kingdom, commonly means the Parisian duchy, and it is only through the successive conquests of the Parisian Kings that the word _France_ has gained that modern meaning which now takes in the old Western kingdom and something more. The ordinary meaning of the word _Francia_ in Flodoard and Richer is plain from such passages as Flodoard, A. 923, 926. It means the dominion of the “Dux Francorum,” whether he be “Rex Francorum” as well or not. In the latter passage, we find a Danegeld levied “per Franciam et Burgundiam,” where _Burgundia_ does not mean the kingdom of Boso, but the duchy which did homage to the West-Frankish King. So in the Vita Hludowici, 49, we find “Francia, Burgundia, Aquitania, et Germania.” _Francia_, in short, as used by these writers, excludes Lotharingia and all the Burgundies; it excludes Aquitaine, Normandy, and Britanny; and it has further to be distinguished as “Latina” or “Occidentalis” from the other _Francia_ east of the Rhine.

In the like sort, we read in the Chronica Regum Francorum, ap. Pertz, iii. 214; “Hic [at the deposition of Charles the Third] divisio facta est inter Teutones Francos et Latinos Francos.” But it is remarkable to trace how early, especially within the Western _Francia_, the word _Franci_ began to mean the Western as opposed to the Eastern Franks. Thus the Astronomer (ap. Pertz, ii. 617) speaks of Lewis the Pious as “monitus tam a _Francis_ quamque a Germanis,” and again (p. 633), “diffidens _Francis_, magisque se credens Germanis.” So Liudprand (Antapod. i. 14, 17) uses “Rex Galliæ” and “Rex Francorum” as synonymous. And the word seems to be used in the same sense by Nithard, i. 5, ii. 3, in the former of which passages _Francia_ seems to be opposed to “universi qui trans Renum morabantur.” So Wipo (31) distinguishes the Western kingdom as “Galliæ Francorum,” and Lambert (1073), unlike Bruno, allows the title of “Rex Francorum” to the Western potentate. Still in Germany _Franci_ kept its natural meaning down to the days of Frederick Barbarossa. “Sic emitur a _Francis_ Imperium,” says Otto of Freising (Gest. Frid. ii. 22). Yet elsewhere (i. 58) he speaks of “Rex Francorum” and “Rex Franciæ” in the other sense. So William of Malmesbury (i. 68), in a passage the whole of which is worth study, says, “Lotharingi et Alemanni, et cæteri Transrhenani populi qui Imperatori Teutonicorum subjecti sunt, magis proprie se Francos appellari jubent; et eos quos nos Francos putamus, _Galwalas_ antiquo vocabulo [did William know the force of the _walas_?] quasi Gallos nuncupant. Quibus et ego assensum commodo,” &c. Elsewhere (iv. 360) he says, “Romanum Imperium prius ad Francos, post ad Teutones, declinavit;” he yet more strangely adds, “orientale apud Persas semper durat.”

In other cases the words _Franci_ or _Francia_ are altogether left out. “Occidentales” alone is used as equivalent to West-Frankish or French, and “Orientales” is used as equivalent to German. Perhaps the most remarkable case of this use is to be found in the treaty between Charles the Simple and Henry of Saxony in 921 (Pertz, Legg. i. 567). Here the two Kings of the Franks are geographically distinguished, as “Gloriosissimus rex Francorum Occidentalium, Karolus” and “Magnificentissimus rex Francorum Orientalium Heinricus.” But in the text of the treaty, where Charles speaks in his own person, he says, “Ego Karolus, divina propitiante clementia, rex Francorum Occidentalium, amodo ero huic amico meo _regi Orientali_ Heinrico amicus.” We find the same use in Dudo, 130 B, and in a very remarkable passage of Richer (iv. 12, 13), where he gives two descriptions of the extent of the Western kingdom in the tenth century. Hugh Capet is made King over “Galli, Britanni, Dahi [doubtless _Dani_, i.e. the Normans], Aquitani, Gothi, Hispani [the county of Barcelona], Wascones.” He then associates his son Robert in the kingdom—“a Mosa fluvio usque Oceanum _Occidentalibus_ regem præfecit et ordinavit.” So in the extract from Thietmar in p. 175, “Occiduæ partes” is the German writer’s description of the kingdom of Charles the Simple. In other passages a King is simply, as it were, pointed at. In Flodoard, 938, Otto is “Rex Transrhenensis,” in Richer, i. 20, his father is simply “Heinricus Transrhenensis,” and in Dudo, 130 B, where the Germans are still “Orientales,” their King is still “Rex Transrhenanus.” So “Rex Orientalis” is opposed to “Rex Galliæ,” Ann. Xant. 873 (Pertz, ii. 235). More curious still is the description of no less a person than Hugh the Great in Flodoard, A. 960; “Richardus, filius Willelmi Nortmannorum principis, filiam Hugonis trans Sequanam [or ‘Transsequani’] quondam principis, duxit uxorem.” So in 946 our Eadmund is “Edmundus rex transmarinus.” See above, p. 565. This way of describing suggests some of those curious mediæval verbs, “transfretare,” “transpadare,” and the like.

Germany in fact was longer than any of the other countries of which we have been speaking in getting a true territorial name for itself, and a true territorial title for its sovereign. We have seen several instances of the use of _Germania_; but then _Germania_, like _Gallia_, is a purely geographical name, and the Eastern kingdom took in a large part of _Gallia_. The kingdom itself is commonly “Regnum Teutonicum” (Lambert, 1073), a phrase which is the more remarkable when we find it coupled with the geographical name _Italia_, as in Gregory’s anathema in Muratori, iii. 336. Lewis the son of Lewis the Pious is repeatedly called “Rex Germanorum” by Prudentius of Troyes (Pertz, i. 441, 443), and “Rex Germaniæ” by Hincmar (Pertz, i. 458). So Henry is “Germaniæ princeps” in Flodoard, 928. But these are mere descriptions, and no such formal title seems to be found earlier than the days of Maximilian. Indeed the German kingdom was so soon swallowed up by the Roman Empire that a distinct title for its King was hardly needed. The kingdom of Boso, on the other hand, though he and his electors shrank from giving it a name, soon found one in common use. Liudprand (Ant. ii. 60) tells how “Rodulfus rex superbissimus Burgundionibus imperabat,” and Wipo speaks familiarly (15, 19) of “Rex Burgundiæ” and “Burgundionum.” Flodoard, however, besides his favourite flourish about Cisalpine Gaul, tells us of “Rex Jurensis” under the years 935 and 940.

Lastly, the Norman duchy, as I have once or twice implied in the text, was also slow in gaining for itself any distinct territorial name. There is no trace of any such name in Flodoard or in Richer. In Dudo’s time the country is beginning, but only beginning to have a name; it is sometimes “Northmannia,” sometimes only “Terra Northmannorum,” “Northmannica regio,” and the like. In the next century the people have become “Normanni,” and their land has become “Normannia,” “Normendie.” “Northmannia,” with Einhard, meant Denmark. In Adam of Bremen “Nortmannia” means distinctively Norway, though he also uses the word “Norvegia.” With him “Nortmanni” always means Norwegians, except in ii. 52, where Richard is described as “Comes Nortmannorum” and his duchy as “Nortmannia.” It is perhaps needless to add that in our own Northumbrian geography the local names Normanton and Normanby point to Northmen, not to Normans, just as the word “Norþmen” is used in our own Chronicles in describing the Commendation of 923.

NOTE V. p. 158.
NOTICES OF LANGUAGE IN THE TENTH CENTURY.

The notices of language which we come across in our authors are often highly curious. The Romance languages are now just beginning to be felt to be really languages, and not mere vulgar dialects of Latin. We get perhaps our first glimpse of this feeling in Nithard’s description (iii. 5) of the famous oath of Strassburg in 842. The two languages, the parents of modern High-Dutch and modern French, are distinguished as “lingua Teudisca” and “lingua Romana.” Charles the Bald himself spoke Lingua Romana; Pertz, Legg. i. 472. “Romana,” _Romance_, is the usual description of the new language, as distinguished from the classical “Latina,” though we have seen (see p. 182) at least one instance where “Latinus sermo” means the popular Romance. In the course of the next century the language became nationalized, and in Richer (iv. 100) it appears as “lingua Gallica,” which becomes its usual later name. I leave to professed philologers to fix the exact relation of the “lingua Romana” of Nithard to French and to Provençal respectively. For my purpose it is enough that it is Romance, as distinguished both from Latin and from Teutonic.

We also in the course of the narratives of Flodoard and Richer come across several curious passages where the Romance and Teutonic languages are opposed to each other. Thus Charles the Simple has a conference at Worms with Henry of Saxony (“Heinricus Transrhenensis”), when (Richer, i. 20) “Germanorum Gallorumque juvenes, linguarum idiomate offensi, ut eorum mos est, cum multa animositate maledictis sese lacessire cœperunt.” In 948 Lewis and Otto attend a synod, where letters are read in Latin, and are translated “propter reges juxta Teutiscam linguam.” (Flod. in an.; Pertz, iii. 396.) Lewis therefore spoke German no less than Otto. Otto however (see Widukind, ii. 36) could speak French on occasion (“Romana lingua Slavanicaque loqui scit”), which makes the employment of German still more important. In 981 Hugh Capet and Otto the Second met. Otto spoke Latin, and a Bishop translated his speech to Hugh. (Richer, iii. 85.) Hugh therefore did not understand German, and the Romance which he spoke had departed so far from Latin that Latin needed an interpreter. In 996 certain Gaulish and German Bishops meet (Richer, iv. 100), and the Bishop of Verdun is chosen to speak “eo quod linguam Gallicam norat.” The Lotharingian prelate could doubtless speak both languages. These passages seem enough to make out the view which I have everywhere maintained, that throughout the tenth century the Carolingian Kings at Laon were a strictly German dynasty, speaking German as their mother-tongue, while the Dukes and Kings of Paris were already French.

Sir Francis Palgrave’s assertion (i. 72) that “the German Ritterschaft of Otho the Great raised the war-cry in French” is an evident misconception of the passage in Widukind (ii. 17) on which it seems to be grounded. The historian is clearly speaking of the Lotharingian borderers who spoke both languages. His words are simply, “Ex nostris etiam fuere, qui Gallica lingua ex parte loqui sciebant, qui clamore in altum Gallice levato, exhortati sunt adversarios ad fugam.”

Of the speed with which French displaced Danish as the language of Normandy, I have said something in p. 181. For the retention of the ancient speech at Bayeux, after it had been forgotten at Rouen, our chief authority is Dudo, 112 D; “Quoniam quidem Rotomagensis civitas Romana potius quam Dacisca utitur eloquentia, et Baiocacensis fruitur frequentius Dacisca lingua quam Romana; volo igitur ut ad Baiocacensia deferatur quantocius mœnia, et ibi volo ut sit, Botho, sub tua custodia, et enutriatur et educetur cum magna diligentia, fervens loquacitate Dacisca, tamque discens tenaci memoria, ut queat sermocinari profusius olim contra Dacigenas.” (“Contra sermocinari,” in Dudo’s language, is simply to converse with.) So Benoît, 11520;

“Si à Roem le faz garder
E norir, gaires longement
Il ne saura parlier neient
Daneis, kar nul l’i parole.
Si voil qu’il seit a tele escole
Ou l’en le sache endoctriner
Que as Daneis sache parler.
Ci ne sevent riens fors romanz;
Mais à Baiues en a tanz
Qui ne sevent si Daneis non:
E pur ceo, sire quens Boton,
Voil que vos l’aiez ensemble od vos.”

Wace (Roman de Rou, 2502) says only

“Richart sout en Daneiz, en Normant parler.”

Here “Normant” can mean nothing but French, but it is less clear what he means by it in v. 2377, where we read,

“Cosne sout en Thioiz et en Normant parler.”

Wace probably meant French, but he seems to have misunderstood a passage of Dudo (99, 100) which contains a curious notice of the use of the Danish language, the force of which Dudo himself seems hardly to have understood. William is at a conference with Henry of Germany (really with Otto). Certain Lotharingians and Saxons talk to their own chief Cono; William, by his knowledge of Danish, understands them (“per Daciscam linguam quæ dicebant subsannantes, intelligendo subaudit”). The Saxon Duke Hermann afterwards speaks to William in Danish, and being asked how the Saxons came to understand that language, explains the fact by the constant incursions of the Northmen. Duke Hermann might very well understand Danish, and might speak Danish to William; but the Saxons and Lotharingians would not speak Danish to Cono. What the story seems to point to is that the Low-Dutch of Saxony and Lower Lorraine was so far intelligible to one who understood Danish that he could guess at the general meaning of what was said.

But the most remarkable notice of language at all is to be found in the Tours Chronicle in Duchesne, Rer. Franc. Scriptt. iii. 360, which records the homage of Rolf to Charles (see p. 168), and the traditional origin of the name _Bigot_ as applied to the Normans. When Rolf is called on to kiss the King’s feet, “lingua Anglica respondit, _Ne se bigoth_, quod interpretatur, non per Deum, rex vero et sui illum deridentes, et sermonem ejus corrupte referentes, illum vocaverunt Bigoth. Unde Normanni adhuc Bigothi dicuntur” (see Wace, 9907, et seqq.). Here we read that this famous refusal of Rolf to abase himself was made in a language which by Frankish hearers was looked upon as English. That Rolf spoke English in any strict sense is most unlikely; the tongue in which he answered was doubtless his native Danish. Nor is it enough to say, with Sir F. Palgrave (i. 700), that any Teutonic speech was loosely called English by the French; for Rolf was speaking in the presence of a prince whose native speech was undoubtedly Teutonic. But Charles the Frank spoke High-Dutch; Rolf the Dane spoke a language which, in a wide sense of the words, might be called Low-Dutch. England was the most famous and most familiar country of the Low-Dutch speech, and the Scandinavian talk of Rolf was by his Frankish hearers accordingly set down as English.

NOTE W. pp. 168, 222.
THE VASSALAGE OF NORMANDY.

That Rolf became in the strictest sense the “man” of King Charles, I have no doubt whatever. Against plain facts and probabilities we have nothing to set except the shirkings and twistings of Dudo’s rhetoric. Thus he tells us (83 D); “Dedit itaque [Karolus] filiam suam Gislam nomine uxorem illi Duci, terramque determinatam _in alodo, et in fundo_, a flumine Eptæ usque ad mare, totamque Britanniam, de qua posset vivere.” And again (84 A); “Ceterum Karolus rex, duxque Rotbertus, comitesque et proceres, præsules et abbates, juraverunt sacramento Catholicæ fidei patricio Rolloni vitam suam, et membra, et _honorem totius regni_, insuper terram denominatam,” &c. See Palgrave, ii. 361. And he is rather fond of speaking of Normandy as a kingdom or a monarchy; “Tenet sicuti rex monarchiam Northmannicæ regionis;” “Regnum Northmannicæ Britonicæque regionis.” (110 D; 128 B, C; 136 C.) Still the homage of Rolf is perfectly plain, and so is the homage of his son William Longsword. (See pp. 168, 196.) The testimony of Flodoard (927, cf. 933) is express; “Se filius Rollonis Karolo committit.” But whether Richard the Fearless ever did homage to Lewis or Lothar is not so clear. Richard may be included among the “cæteri regni primores” who (see p. 221) did homage to Lewis in 946. Dudo however (126 C) seems very anxious to except him; “Venit rex supra fluvium Eptæ contra Northmannos, cum magno duce Hugone.... Propriis verbis fecit securitatem _regni_ quod suus avus Rollo vi ac potestate, armis et præliis sibi acquisivit. Ipseque et omnes episcopi, comites, et abbates reverendi, principesque Franciæ regni Richardo puero innocenti, ut teneat et possideat, et _nullis nisi Deo servitium ipse et successio ejus reddat_, et si quis perversæ invasionis rixatione contra eum congredi, vel alicujus rixationis congressione invadere _regnum_, maluerit, fidissimus adjutor in omni adversæ inopportunitatis necessitate per omnia exstiterit.” As for any homage to Lothar (see p. 232), I suspect that no such homage was ever rendered. The French writers do not mention it, though they would doubtless have been glad to mention it if it had happened. And Flodoard’s way of speaking of Richard is remarkable. William was “the Prince of the Normans;” Richard is only “the son of William Prince of the Normans” (“filius Willelmi Northmannorum principis;” see p. 232, note 3). But I have no doubt that the homage was lawfully due, and it was most likely its refusal which led to the differences between Lothar and Richard. On the other hand, the Commendation of Richard to Hugh the Great (see p. 222) seems to be quite authentic, and it is clear that it was renewed to Hugh’s son. This appears from a charter, which I am obliged to quote at secondhand from Lappenberg, Norman Kings, p. 30. Richard there uses the words, “cum assensu _senioris mei_, Hugonis, Francorum principis.” The date is 968; the lord therefore is Hugh Capet.

With regard to this matter a remarkable passage of Sir Francis Palgrave (ii. 494–5) must be quoted and commented on. His words are, “A perfect reciprocity was established between France and the ‘Norman Monarchy,’ ... That Dominion which Rollo the Grandsire had won by so many battles, Richard shall henceforward have and hold, owing service to none but God.... Should any enemy attempt to disturb the right of the Norman Sovereign, the King of France shall be his help and aid in all things.... No other service shall Normandy render unless the King should grant the Duke some Benefice within the Kingdom of France. Therefore, as it was explained in after-time, the Duke of Normandy doth no more than promise faith and homage to the King of France. In like manner doth the King of France render the same fealty to the Duke of Normandy; nor is there any other difference between them, save that the King of France doth not render homage to the Duke of Normandy like as the Duke of Normandy doth to the King.”

If I rightly understand Sir Francis Palgrave, his meaning is that the Duke of the Normans ceased from that time to be the man of the _King_ of the French; that he merely entered into a treaty on equal terms with his former lord; that by voluntary commendation he became the man of the _Duke_ of the French; that the later vassalage of Normandy to France was due, not to the kingdom of France but to the duchy, that it had its beginning in the homage done by Richard the Fearless to Duke Hugh, not in the homage done by Rolf to King Charles. I say, if I rightly understand Sir Francis, because I cannot quite reconcile his statements with one another. In one page there “is perfect reciprocity established between France and the Norman monarchy.” Richard has and holds his dominion, owing service to none but God,—yet directly afterwards it is allowed that “the Duke of Normandy promises fealty and homage to the King of France.” It is dangerous to dispute with Sir Francis Palgrave on a question of feudal law, and the more so, as the relations between Normandy and France at once awaken the whole controversy about “liege” and “simple” homage. But surely, even in a case of simple homage, there is not “perfect reciprocity” between him who pays and him who receives the homage; and certainly, in the tale as I read it, I see nothing but the simple relation of lord and man, only clouded over by the big words of Dudo. And as for reciprocity, surely reciprocity of a certain kind was the essence of the feudal relation. Lord and vassal were each to help and defend the other. No one denies that Henry the Second was the vassal of King Lewis the Seventh, if not for Normandy, at any rate for his other continental possessions, but an equal obligation is imposed, in their mutual oath, on Lewis to defend Henry “sicut fidelem suum” and on Henry to defend Lewis “dominum suum.” See Roger of Wendover, ii. 388.

The notion of the independence of Normandy on France comes out very strongly in the speech which Henry of Huntingdon puts into the mouth of William the Conqueror before the Battle of Senlac (M. H. B. 762 D). A much later instance will be found in William of Worcester’s Collections (Stevenson’s Wars in France, ii. 522), when the relations between Normandy and France had again begun to interest Englishmen. We there read of “Normandy, which ducdom, as yt ys sayde by auncyent wrytyng, holdeth of noone higher souverayn in chief but of God.”

The exact relations between Richard the Fearless and the two—if any one cares to reckon the last Lewis, the three—last Karlings I must be content to leave doubtful. When the Duke of the French—the undoubted over-lord of Normandy—became also King of the French the question ceased to be a practical one. As I have said in p. 246, the French King was the lord of the Norman Duke in some character, whether in that of Duke or of King it mattered little. The question was not likely to be stirred again till that change in the relations and mutual feelings between France and Normandy which marked the days of King Henry and Duke William.

NOTE X. p. 180.
DANISH MARRIAGES.