Chapter XXVII: Appendix: NOTE A. Vol. i. p. 11 (7)

These words cannot come directly from Turgot himself, who was not there, but from the priest (see p. 27) who told him the story. Again, Turgot’s readers would most likely understand that by the church of the Holy Trinity was meant the church of Dunfermline. Otherwise one might easily read the passage as implying that Margaret was buried in the same place in which she died, though no name is given for either. It is from the other account (Fordun, v. 21) that we learn that the death happened at Edinburgh and the burial at Dunfermline. Here we get a picture of Donald at the head of the insurgents or patriots, or whatever we are to call them, entering Edinburgh by one gate, while the body of Margaret is carried out by the other. The story runs thus;

“Cum adhuc corpus sanctæ reginæ esset in castro [puellarum]
ubi illius felix anima ad Christum quem semper dilexerat
migravit, Donaldus Rufus vel Bane, frater regis, ejus audita
morte, regnum multorum manu vallatus invasit, et prædictum
castrum, ubi regis justos et legales sciebat heredes,
hostiliter obsedit. Sed quia locus ille natura sui in se
valde munitus est, portas solummodo credidit custodiendas,
eo quod introitus aut exitus aliunde non de facili pateat.
Quod intelligentes qui intus erant, docti a Deo, meritis, ut
credimus, sanctæ reginæ, per posticum ex occidentali plaga
sanctum corpus deferebant. Ferunt autem quidam, in toto
itinere illo nebulam subnubilam omnem familiam illam
circumdedisse, et ab omnibus aspectibus hostium miraculose
protexisse, ut nec itinerantibus terra vel mari nihil
obfuit, sed ad optatum prospere locum, ecclesiam scilicet de
Dunfermlyn, ubi nunc in Christo requiescit, sicut ipsa prius
jusserat, pervenientes deportarunt.”

In the story of the mist we may clearly see a natural phænomenon set down as a miracle (see Robertson, i. 156). But there seems no reason for doubting the general outline of the story, namely, that Margaret was unpopular with the party headed by Donald, and that they would have gladly disturbed her burial. By comparing this story with the Life we see how easy it is to leave out an important part of a tale without bringing in anything that contradicts it.

NOTE EE. Vol. ii. p. 31.

EADGYTH-MATILDA.

That the daughter of Malcolm and Margaret who afterwards became the wife of Henry the First by the well-known name of Matilda was baptized by the name of Eadgyth, rests wholly on the authority of Orderic, who mentions it twice. After recording the death of Malcolm (702 A), he gives an account of his daughters;

“Duas filias, Edith et Mariam, Christianæ, sorori suæ, quæ
Rumesiensis abbatiæ sanctimonialis erat, educandas,
sacrisque litteris imbuendas miserat. Illic diutius inter
monachas enutritæ sunt, et tam litteratoriam artem quam
bonorum observantiam morum edidicerunt, nubilemque ætatem
pertingentes, solatium Dei devotæ virgines præstolatæ sunt.”

And directly after he calls her “Mathildis quæ prius dicta est Edith.” It is a point on which Orderic was likely to be well informed, as he is always careful and scrupulous in matters of nomenclature, and often helps us to double names, as we have seen in the case of Mark Bohemond. And the name Eadgyth is much more in harmony than Matilda with the other names of Margaret’s children. Orderic however does not mention the implied change of name where one might have looked for it, namely where he records her marriage in 784 A. She is there only “generosa virgo nomine Mathildis;” but in recording her death (843 B), he again says “Mathildis regina, quæ in baptismate Edit dicta fuit.” M. Francisque Michel, in his note on Benoît, iii. 344, refers also to the Waverley Annals, 1086, for the earlier name; but there is nothing of the kind there. There is Eadward and Eadgar, but not Eadgyth. Is one English name held to be as good as another, even when a confusion of sex is involved?

In Eadmer, Hist. Nov. 56, where he describes the discussions which went on before the marriage of Henry the First, we get Eadgyth’s own story. She was brought up by her aunt Christina, of whom we have already heard (see N. C. vol. iv. p. 695, where I carelessly spoke of Christina as abbess), in the abbey of Wilton――it should surely be Romsey. She was not a nun, nor designed to be one, but she was compelled by her aunt to wear the veil to shelter her from the violence of the Normans. Whenever her aunt’s back was turned, she tore it from her head, and trampled upon it, for which the stern nun gave her niece a good deal of blows and bad language;

“Cum adolescentula essem, et sub amitæ meæ Christianæ, quam
tu [Anselmus sc.] bene nosti, virga paverem, illa servandi
corporis mei causa contra furentem et cujusque pudori ea
tempestate insidiantem Normannorum libidinem nigrum
panniculum capiti meo superponere, et me illum abjicientem
acris verberibus et nimis obscœnis verborum conviciis sæpe
cruciare simul et dehonestare solebat. Quem pannum in ipsius
quidem præsentia gemens ac tremebunda ferebam, sed mox ut me
conspectui ejus subtrahere poteram, arreptum in humum
jacere, pedibus proterere, et ita quo in odio fervebam,
quamvis insipienter, consueveram desævire.”

Then her father comes, sees her with the veil, tears it from her head, and says that he does not mean her to be a nun, but to be the wife of Count Alan (“Pater meus cum me, quemadmodum dixi, velatam forte vidisset, furore succensus, injecta manu velum arripuit, et dissipans illud, odium Dei imprecatus est ei qui mihi illud imposuit, contestans se comiti Alano me potius in uxorem quam in contubernium sanctimonialium prædestinasse”).

Here we are not told how she came under her aunt’s care, nor what became of her after her father’s death. And there is something odd in the general reference to the “Normans,” unless it is meant as part of the outburst of special English feeling in the later months of the year 1100. Another version, instead of Normans in general, attributes the danger to a particular Norman whom we should hardly have looked for. This version is to be found in a most singular story, to which I have slightly referred in the text (see p. 32) and also in N. C. vol. v. p. 169, in the Narratio Restaurationis Abbatiæ S. Martini Tornacensis (D’Achery, ii. 893). The story is brought in at the same point at which it is brought in by Eadmer, at the time when Eadgyth――if that is to be her name――is sought in marriage by King Henry. The writer, Hermann, Abbot of Saint Martin’s, says that he had heard the story as a young man from Anselm himself. As Eadmer reports Eadgyth’s own statement, Hermann reports the statement of the abbess――“abbatissa in cujus monasterio puella illa fuerat nutrita.” If any trust can be put in the uncertified list of abbesses of Romsey in the Monasticon, ii. 507, the head of the sisterhood at that time would seem to have been an English Æthelflæd. The maiden herself also is without a name, and her brother is confounded with her father. She is “puella quædam, filia David regis Scotiæ.” The Abbess’s story is that the Scottish King entrusted his daughter to her care, not to become a nun, but simply for education (“Rex David pater ejus mihi eam commendavit, non ut sanctimonialis fieret, sed ut solummodo in ecclesia nostra propter cautelam cum ceteris puellis nostris coætancis suis nutriretur et literis erudiretur”). When the girl is about twelve years old (“cum jam adolevisset,” which is explained afterwards to mean “duodennis”), the Abbess hears that king William (defined as “rex Willelmus, domini mei regis Henrici germanus”) has come to see her (“propter eam videndam venisse”). In the case of any decent king such a visit would surely have been neither scandalous nor wonderful. The King is at the abbey-gate with his knights, and asks to have it opened. The Abbess fears that he may conceive some bad purpose towards the maiden, but hopes that he will respect her if she wears the monastic veil. She therefore persuades Eadgyth to wear the veil for the time;

“Hæc audiens, nimiumque perterrita, ne forte ille, ut
juvenis et rex indomitus, qui omne quod animo sibi
occurrisset illico facere volebat, visa pulcritudine puellæ
aliquam ei illicitam violentiam faceret, qui tam improvisus
et insperatus propter eam videndam advenisset, in secretius
cubiculum eam introduxi, rem ei sicut erat aperui, eaque
volente velum unum capiti ejus imposui, quatenus eo viso rex
ab illicito complexu revocaretur.”

The King goes into the cloister, as if to look at the flowers “quasi propter inspiciendas rosas et alias florentes herbas”). He sees Eadgyth with the veil, and goes away, showing, according to the Abbess, that his visit had been on her account only (“mox ut eam vidit cum ceteris puellis nostris velum capite gestantem, claustro exivit et ab ecclesia recessit, aperte ostendens se non nisi propter eam venisse”). Within a week King David came; seeing his daughter with the veil on her head, he was very angry; he tore it from her head, trampled it under-foot, and took his daughter away.

As the Abbot’s memory clearly failed him on one point, it may have failed him in others. This is, as far as I know, the only time in history or legend in which William Rufus is brought into connexion with the name of any woman. It may well be that Abbess Æthelflæd――if that was her name――did not know the secrets of the Red King’s court, and reckoned him among ordinary, instead of extraordinary, sinners.

* * * * *

The accounts of Orderic and Hermann assert, and that of Eadmer seems to imply, that Eadgyth at least, most likely Mary also, was sent to be brought up by their aunt when they were quite children. But there is something a little odd in the appearance of Malcolm both in Eadmer and in Hermann, where he is spoken of as if it were an every-day thing for a King of Scots to show himself at Romsey. We may here perhaps help ourselves to a date. The visit of Malcolm must surely have been when he was in England in 1093. Eadgyth then, according to Hermann, was about twelve years old. Now, it seems from William of Malmesbury (iv. 389) that she had a godfather whom we should hardly have looked for in the person of Duke Robert. When could Robert have been godfather to a daughter of Malcolm and Margaret? Surely when he was in Scotland in the autumn of 1080 (see N. C. vol. iv. p. 671). That was therefore the time of Eadgyth’s birth; she would then be under thirteen when her father came into England. (Since this note was printed, I see that M. Gaston Le Hardy, p. 41, takes this date for granted.)

The fact that Malcolm and Margaret themselves sent their daughters into England seems to dispose of the account in Fordun (v. 21; see p. 30), according to which their uncle Eadgar somehow contrived to bring them to England after the death of their parents. The only way in which the two versions could be reconciled would be by supposing that, when Malcolm, according to Hermann, took Eadgyth away from Romsey, he took her back to Scotland.

In Eadgyth’s own statement in Eadmer, she says that her father meant her to marry Count Alan. So Orderic (702 A) says;

“Alanus Rufus Britannorum comes Mathildem, quæ prius dicta
est Edith, in conjugem sibi a rege Rufo requisivit; sed
morte præventus non obtinuit.”

Mr. Robertson (i. 152) makes merry over this passage, and takes the opportunity to sneer at Orderic. How, he asks, could Alan, who outlived Eadgyth-Matilda and died in 1119――she died in 1118――have been prevented by his own death from marrying her? He objects also that Alan married the second time (see N. C. vol. iv. p. 647) in 1093, “before Matilda could have sought refuge in England.” He adds, “Alan, however, was once a suitor for the hand of Matilda, but to her own father Malcolm (according to her own words), not to Rufus,” and goes on to tell about Orderic’s “gossip,” “infinity of error,” and what not. But though Orderic has made a slight slip, Mr. Robertson’s own error is much greater. There can be little doubt that the Alan meant is not the Alan of Britanny who married first Constance the daughter of the Conqueror and then Ermengarde of Anjou, but Alan the Black the second lord of Richmond (see N. C. vol. iv. p. 294, and Mrs. Green, Princesses, i. 25), a much more likely husband for the Scottish King to think of for his daughter. Now this Alan died in 1093, just about the right time. Orderic has put _Rufus_ instead of _Niger_, which is about the extent of his offence――perhaps confounding Alan the Black with his brother Alan Fergeant, the first lord of Richmond. But Mr. Robertson quite forgot that Malcolm sent his daughters into England long before 1093. Thierry (ii. 152) saw clearly which Alan it was.

William of Malmesbury (v. 418) has a singular passage, where he tells us that “Matildis, filia regis Scotorum, a teneris annis inter sanctimoniales apud Wiltoniam et Rumesium educata, literis quoque fœmineum pectus exercuit. Unde, ut ignobiles nuptias respueret plusquam semel a patre oblatas, peplum sacratæ professionis index gestavit.”

But who could look on a marriage with Count Alan as “ignobilis”?

NOTE FF. Vol. ii. pp. 17, 47, 49, 53.

TYNEMOUTH AND BAMBURGH.

The history of Tynemouth, and of Saint Oswine in relation to Tynemouth, comes largely from the Life of Saint Oswine in the Miscellanea Biographica published by the Surtees Society. This is the work of a monk of Saint Alban’s who went to Tynemouth in 1111. There are also several Saint Alban’s documents printed in the Monasticon, iii. 312. There is a large history of Tynemouth by Mr. W. S. Gibson, from which much may be learned, though the valuable facts and documents have largely to be dug out of a mass of irrelevant matter.

According to the Saint Alban’s writer, Eadwine built a wooden church at Tynemouth, and there his daughter _Rosella_ took the veil. The name is strange enough, but we may perhaps see a confused tradition of a _British_ name, when we read that “locus ubi nunc cœnobium Tinemuthense est, antiquitus a _Saxonibus_ dicebatur Penbalcrag, i.e. caput valli in rupe. Nam circa hunc locum finis erat valli Severiani.” This building must be the same as that which is referred to in the Life, p. 11; “Delatus est ad ostium Tynæ fluminis, locum videlicet ab incolis regionis ob imminentis rupis securitatem ab hostibus celebrius frequentatum. Sed ob reverentiam gloriosæ Virgini Mariæ inibi exhibitam tenerius amatum, ibique sepultus est in oratorio ejusdem Virginis, quod constructum erat ad aquilonem fluminis.” He goes on to tell how Oswald rebuilt the wooden church of stone, and how the monastery was more than once destroyed by the Danes. The Saint Alban’s writer (Mon. Angl. iii. 312) speaks more specially of the Danes. The biographer carries us at once to the time of Tostig;

“Memoria sancti martyris Oswini, obsoleta et penitus deleta,
funditus ab hominum notitia evanuit. Jacuitque per multa
annorum curricula gleba sancti corporis sub abjectiori
cespite tumulata et usque ad tempora Thostii comitis et
Ægelwini præsulis Dunelmi, incuriæ pariter et ignorantiæ
neglectu, debita veneratione est fraudata.”

The writer has a curious remark to account for the neglect of the saint; “Genti prædictæ nunc fideles, nunc infideles principabantur, et juxta principum instituta, varia divinus cultus in subjectarum plebium studiis sensit dispendia.” This is doubtless true of Deira, hardly so of Bernicia, where no heathen prince reigned, though passing heathens did a good deal of damage.

He then gives a long account of the invention of the saint’s body, which came about through the vision of a monk named Eadmund. Judith, according to the character which she bears elsewhere (see N. C. vol. ii. p. 391), appears as “devota Deo famula,” “præpotens et devota femina,” “veneranda comitissa.” Of Tostig we are told that he succeeded Siward, “non testamenti beneficio, sed sancti regis Ædwardi dono regio.” He is described as beginning the new church which the monks of Saint Alban’s afterwards finished (p. 15); “Cujus tamen fundamenti initia, ut dicitur, comes Thostius jecerat, a fundamentis ædificaverunt.” But his deposition and death seem to be looked upon as a judgement for not being present in person at the invention (“Quia prædixtus comes Thostius interesse sanctæ inventioni in ditione sua factæ noluit, eodem anno culpis suis exigentibus ab Anglorum regno expulsus,” &c.), the exact date of which is given, March 15, 1065. It is added, “Thostio comite proscripto, hæreditas ejus devoluta est ad fiscum regium.”

Simeon in his History of the Church of Durham, iv. 4, puts the acts of Tostig and of Waltheof together under the head of Northumbrian earls; “Ecclesiam sane sancti Oswini in Tinemuthe, jamdudum donantibus Northymbriæ comitibus, monachi cum adhuc essent in Gyrvum possederant, unde etiam ipsius sancti ossa ad se transferentes in ecclesia sancti Pauli secum non parvo tempore habuerunt, quæ postmodum ad priorem locum retulerunt.” He then goes on to record the confirmation by Earl Alberic, who “hoc donum renovavit, ipsamque ecclesiam cum suo presbitero ecclesiæ sancti Cuthberti perpetuo possidendam adjecit.”

It would seem that the fall of Tostig hindered the completion of his church, and that at the time of Waltheof’s grant it was still without a roof; for he goes on to say, “Quæ cum jam per quindecim annos velut deserta sine tecto durasset, eam monachi culmine imposito renovarunt, et per tres annos possederunt.” On receiving the confirmation of Alberic, a monk with a good Danish name was sent to put things in better order (Simeon, Gesta Regum, 1121); “Ex capituli totius sententia monachus noster _Turchillus_ illuc mittitur, qui renovato ecclesiæ ipsius culmine, per multum tempus habitavit ibidem.”

I have referred to the charter of Waltheof and to the entry in Simeon (Gesta Regum, 1080) in N. C. vol. iv. p. 666. It is printed, along with a charter of Bishop William confirming it, dated April 27, 1085, in the time of Earl Alberic, whose confirmation is recorded, in the Surtees book called Historiæ Dunelmensis Scriptores Tres, pp. xviii, xix. The signatures to both are nearly all English, with the single exception of two to the charter of Waltheof. These are Gilbert, the nephew (see N. C. vol. iv. p. 665) of Bishop Walcher, and an unknown Walter. We meet with several other men that we know, as Morkere’s father Ligulf and his brother Uhtred, and Leofwine, written “Leobwinus,” the Dean of Durham. We notice also “Ernan Biscope sune,” and three Englishmen with the knightly title “Alwinus miles,” “Wlstanus miles,” and “Kinewlfus miles,” but I do not understand “signum Aldredi comitis.” Earl Ealdred, the common grandfather of Waltheof and young Morkere, had been murdered long ago, as the sons of Carl found to their cost. The story is told again in Simeon, Gesta Regum, 1121.

The next stage in the story is the taking away of Tynemouth from the church of Durham. It is amusing to contrast the ways in which this story is told at Durham and at Saint Alban’s. Simeon, in the chapter just quoted, tells us that Earl Robert made the gift to Saint Alban’s “propter inimicitias quæ inter episcopum et ipsum agitabantur” (cf. Gesta Regum, 1121). The cause of their ill-will, a dispute about lands, comes out in the next chapter. Roger of Wendover (ii. 39), who is copied by Matthew Paris (Hist. Ang. i. 41, and Chron. Maj. ii. 31), tells us how Earl Robert――“vir quidem Deo devotus,” Matthew says――gave Tynemouth to Saint Alban’s “divina inspiratione tactus.” The Gesta Abbatum (i. 57) add that it was done “regis et archiepiscopi Lanfranci benevolentia.” It would seem that under Durham rule Tynemouth had been simply an impropriate church, while in the hands of Saint Alban’s it became a cell. The judgement on Abbot Paul is recorded in the Durham History, iv. 4. The Gesta Abbatum, which record much about him, both good and evil, say nothing about this. The Life of Oswine, p. 15, gives a full account of the ceremony of the translation of Saint Oswine, with the date. Bishop Randolf of Durham was there, Abbot Richard of Saint Alban’s, and “Abbas _Salesberiensis_ Hugo,” where we may see (see Mon. Angl. iii. 495) the old confusion (see N. C. vol. iv. p. 799) between Salisbury and Selby.

Tynemouth then, at the time when the revolt of Robert of Mowbray began (see p. 47), was already a monastery and a cell to Saint Alban’s, though the monks of Durham still held that they had been wrongfully deprived of it. But it appears from the narrative that, besides the monastery, there was also a castle. The account in the Chronicle is, “And þone castel æt Tinemuðan besæt oððet he hine gewann, and þæs eorles broðer þærinne and ealle þa þe him mid wæron.” Florence says, “Rex exercitu de tota Anglia congregato, castellum prædicti comitis Rotberti, ad ostium Tinæ fluminis situm, per duos menses obsedit; et interim, _quadam munitiuncula expugnata_, ferme omnes meliores comitis milites cepit, et in custodia posuit; dein obsessum castellum expugnavit, et fratrem comitis, et equites, quos intus inveniebat, custodiæ tradidit.” Florence seems to me to have confounded the sieges of Tynemouth and of the New Castle. By the “castellum ad ostium Tinæ” he would seem to mean the New Castle, and by his “munitiuncula” he would seem to mean the Earl’s fortress at Tynemouth. Now what was the relation between the castle and the monastery? As things now stand, castle and monastery are one. That is to say, the deserted church――or more strictly the two deserted churches, monastic and parochial, once under one roof (see Archæological Journal, vol. xxxvii. p. 250, No. 147, 1880)――standing on the northern promontory is now surrounded by military buildings and the great gate-house. I get my notion of the early arrangements of Tynemouth from several old plans collected by Mr. Gibson. There is one which seems to be of the sixteenth century, and, as the names are written in a curious mixture of English, Latin, and Italian, it struck me that it might be the work of an officer of those Italian mercenaries who were employed in the civil wars of Edward the Sixth. This is the only one which distinctly shows “the Castle,” on the southern promontory, though all mark that point as taken in within the lines of defence. It seems to me that the southern promontory must have been the site of the original castle, and that the name of _Castle_ has shifted to the great gate-house, which fairly deserves it.

* * * * *

With regard to the order of the sieges, Orderic, who gives us so full an account of the siege of Bamburgh, tells us nothing about the others. I gather from the words of the Chronicle that the New Castle, which we find in the King’s hands directly after, was the point which was first taken; “Sona þes þe he þider [to Norðhymbran] com, he manege and forneah ealle þa betste of þes eorles hirede innan anan fæstene gewann, and on hæftene gedyde.” Florence, as I have said, seems to have misunderstood the words of the Chronicler, and to have confounded Tynemouth and the New Castle. This last would surely be, as the Chronicle implies, the first point of attack after the army entered Northumberland in the sense which that word now bears. Next in the narrative of the Chronicle follows the siege and capture of Tynemouth, and then the great siege of Bamburgh. Of this famous fortress I found something to say long ago in N. C. vol. i. p. 410, where Bamburgh appears as marking one stage in the art of fortification. Bæda (iii. 16) witnesses that the place took its name “ex Bebbæ quondam reginæ vocabulo;” so also the Northumbrian writer copied by Simeon of Durham, 774;

“Bebba civitas urbs est munitissima, non admodum magna, sed
quasi duorum vel trium agrorum spatium, habens unum
introitum cavatum, et gradibus miro modo exaltatum. Habet in
summitate montis ecclesiam præpulcre factam, in qua est
scrinium speciosum et pretiosum. In quo involuta pallio
jacet dextera manus sancti Oswaldi regis incorrupta, sicut
narrat Beda historiographus hujus gentis.”

The reference here is to Bæda, iii. 6, where he tells the story of Oswald’s bounty and the prophecy of Aidan, and adds how his hand and arm, cut off after his death in the battle by Penda, “in urbe regia quæ a regina quondam vocabulo Bebba cognominatur, loculo inclusæ argenteo in ecclesia sancti Petri servantur, ac digno a cunctis honore venerantur.” So again, iii. 12, where Bamburgh is simply “regia civitas.” He goes on to speak of the well; “Est in occidente et in summitate ipsius civitatis fons miro cavatus opere, dulcis ad potandum et purissimus ad videndum.” Florence also refers to the origin of the name; with him it is “Bebbanbyrig, id est, Urbs Bebbæ reginæ;” and Orderic (704 A) draws a little picture of the spot; “Munitissimum castrum, quod Babbenburg dicitur, obsederunt. Et quoniam illa munitio inexpugnabilis erat, quia inaccessibilis videbatur propter paludes et aquas, et alia quædam itinerantibus contraria, quibus ambiebatur, rex novam munitionem ad defensionem provinciæ et coartationem hostium construxit, et militibus, armis, ac victualibus implevit.” This last fact, the making of the _Malvoisin_, is recorded by the Chronicler and Florence, both of whom give the name. The Chronicler says; “Ac þa þa se cyng geseah þæt he hine gewinnan ne mihte, þa het he makian ænne castel toforan Bebbaburh and hine _on his spæce_ Malueisin het, þæt is on Englisc yfel nehhebur, and hine swiðe mid his mannan gesætte, and syððan suðweard for.” So Florence; “Ante Bebbanbyrig in quam comes fugerat, castellum firmavit, id que Malveisin nominavit, et in illo militibus positis, in Suthymbriam rediit.” We may here note the way in which the Chronicler assumes French as the language of William Rufus, and also Florence’s somewhat archaic way of speaking of “Suthymbria,” where the Chronicler says simply “suðweard.” It is something like his mention of West-Saxonia in 1091 (see vol. i. p. 305).

The _Malvoisin_ was clearly such a tower as we often hear of, temporary and of wood, but still not moveable, as is implied in Florence’s word “firmavit.” But the name seems afterwards to have been transferred to moveable towers; see Du Cange in Malveisin, where he refers to the passage about the siege of Dover in Roger of Wendover, iii. 380; “Misso prius ad patrem suum propter petrariam, quæ ‘Malveisine’ Gallice nuncupatur, qua cum machinis aliis Franci ante castrum locata muros acriter crebris ictibus verberabant.” In his account of the siege of Bamburgh (ii. 46) Roger says, “Cum castellum inexpugnabile advertit, ante castellum illud castellum aliud _ligneum_ construxit, quod Malveisin appellavit, in quo partem exercitus sui relinquens inde recessit.” Matthew Paris copies this in the Chronica Majora in the Historia Anglorum, i. 48; his words are, “Ante castellum illud aliud sed _ligneum_ construxit, ad præcludendum illis exitum, quod patria lingua _Maleveisine_ appellavit.” Viollet-le-Duc (Military Architecture of the Middle Ages, 24, Eng. trans.) seems to imply that moveable towers were known earlier than this time, but he seems (p. 30) to bring the petraria from the East.

As for the details of the siege, the Chronicler and Florence tell us nothing till we come to the escape of Robert from Bamburgh. It is Orderic who gives us the picture of the state of mind of Robert and his companions, which, if it belongs to any period of the siege, must belong to the time before the King went southward. We see the loyal troops busily working at the making of the _Malvoisin_;

“Conscii autem perfidiæ et fautores eorum detegi verentes
conticuerunt, et metu exsangues, quia conatus suos nihil
valere perpenderunt, regiis cohortibus immixti, ejus
servitium, cujus exitium optaverant, prompte aggressi sunt.
Interea, dum rex in armis cum agminibus suis ad bellum
promptus constaret, et chiliarchos ac centuriones, aliosque
proceres Albionis, cum subditis sibi plebibus, operi novæ
munitionis indesinenter insistere compelleret, Rodbertus de
propugnaculis suis contrarium sibi opus mœstus conspiciebat,
et complices suos alta voce nominatim compellebat, ac ut
jusjurandum de proditionis societate conservarent, palam
commonebat. Rex autem cum fidelibus suis hæc audiens
ridebat, et conscia reatus publicati mens conscios et
participes timore et verecundia torquebat.”

Then the King goes away; in Orderic’s phrase, “rege ad sua prospere remeante, et de moderamine regni cum suis amicis solerter tractante,” a rather odd description of the war in Wales. Now comes Robert’s escape from Bamburgh. Orderic, who seems to have no clear idea of any place except Bamburgh, merely says that Robert, “longæ obsidionis tædio nauseatus, noctu exilivit, et de castro in castrum migrare volens in manus inimicorum incidit.” The Chronicle is fuller; “Ða sona æfter þam þe se cyng wæs suð afaren feorde se eorl anre nihte ut of Bebbaburh towardes Tinemuðan, ac þa þe innan þam niwun castele wæron his gewær wurdon, and him æfter foran and onfuhton and hine gewundedon, and syððan gelæhton, and þa þe mid him wæron sume ofslogan sume lifes gefengon.” But it is from Florence that we get the detailed account. His story runs thus;

“Post cujus discessum, comiti Rotberto vigiles Novi Castelli
promisere in id se permissuros illum intrare, si veniret
occulte. Ille autem lætus effectus, quadam nocte cum xxx.
militibus ut id perageret exivit. Quo cognito, equites qui
castellum custodiebant illum insequentes, ejus exitum
custodibus Novi Castelli per nuntios intimaverunt. Quod ille
nesciens, die dominica tentavit peragere cœpta, sed
nequivit, deprehensus enim erat. Eapropter ad monasterium S.
Oswini regis et martyris fugit, ubi sexto die obsessionis
suæ graviter in crure est vulneratus dum suis adversariis
repugnaret, quorum multi perempti, multi sunt vulnerati, de
suis quoque nonnulli vulnerati, omnes sunt capti; ille vero
in ecclesiam fugit, de qua extractus, in custodia est
positus.”

Here now comes the obvious difficulty as to the way in which the Earl could have got into the monastery at Tynemouth after the castle had been taken. The Chronicler indeed does not necessarily imply that he got into Tynemouth at all. The fight which he describes might have happened somewhere else and not at Tynemouth. And if any one chooses to move the site of Robert’s resistance and capture from Tynemouth to some unknown spot, there is only the statement of Florence against him. That Robert was taken, and taken after a stout resistance, is plain.

With Robert’s capture, Orderic ends his story, as far as military operations are concerned. “Captus a satellitibus regis, Rodbertus finem belli fecit.” In a very general way this is not untrue; it was the capture of Robert which brought about the end of the war. But it is odd that he should have left out the striking story of the captive Earl being brought under frightful threats before the castle which his wife was defending. This stands out clearly in the Chronicle; “Ða þa se cyng ongean com, þa het he niman þone eorl Rotbeard of Norðymbram, and to Bæbbaburh lædan, and ægðer eage ut adon, buton þa þe þærinne wæron þone castel agyfan woldan. Hine heoldan his wif and Moreal, se wæs stiward and eac his mæg. Ðurh þis wearð se cartel þa agyfen.” Florence translates this.

* * * * *

Lastly comes the great difference of all as to Earl Robert’s last days. The Chronicler and Florence merely record his imprisonment at Windsor, without saying how long it lasted. Florence says only, “Comes forti custodiæ mancipandus ad Windlesoram est ductus,” followed by the passage about Morel quoted in p. 55. He says nothing about the many accusations brought by Morel, or about the special summons of all the tenants-in-chief to the trial, of which the Chronicler speaks (see p. 56). The Chronicler, after recording them, says; “And þone eorl Rotbert hét se cyng to Windlesoran lædan, and þær innan þam castele healdan.” This is consistent with any later destiny, with release and monastic profession or with lifelong imprisonment. This last is asserted by several authorities. Thus Orderic (704 A) says; “Rodbertus…. fere triginta annis in vinculis vixit, ibique scelerum suorum pœnas luens consenuit.” He then sets forth the sad state of his wife; “Mathildis uxor ejus, quæ cum eo vix unquam læta fuerat, quia in articulo perturbationis desponsata fuerat, et inter bellicas clades tribus tantum mensibus cum tremore viri thoro incubuerat, maritali consolatione cito caruit, multisque mœroribus afflicta diu gemuit.” The Continuator of William of Jumièges (viii. 8), who has nothing to say about Matilda, equally bears witness to Robert’s lifelong imprisonment; “Captus a militibus Willelmi regis, ipsoque jubente in ipsis vinculis diutius perseverans; regnante jam Henrico rege, tandem in ipso ergastulo deficiens mortuus est.” So William of Malmesbury, iv. 319; “Captus et æternis vinculis irretitus est.”

On the other hand, there clearly was a story according to which Robert was released some time or other, and died a monk at Saint Alban’s. It is somewhat remarkable that there is no mention of this in any of the chief writings of Matthew Paris, neither in the Historia Major nor the Historia Anglorum, nor the Lives of the Abbots. But we find the story implied in the extract from his Additamenta in the Monasticon, iii. 312; “Ibidem [at Tynemouth] monachos congregavit de domo sancti Albani, tanquam ab electissima domo inter omnia cœnobia Angliæ, ubi etiam se vovit monasticum habitum suscepturum, et sepulturam in loco memorato. Quæ omnia, Deo sibi propitio, feliciter consummavit.” So in the Abbreviatio Chronicorum (Hist. Angl. iii. 175), a marginal note is added to the name of Earl Robert; “Sepultus est apud sanctum Albanum.” But, oddly enough, the most distinct statement that he became a monk comes, not from any Saint Alban’s writer, but from one manuscript of the “De Regibus Saxonum Libellus” at the end of the Surtees Simeon, p. 214. King Henry keeps Robert of Mowbray some while in prison; then “rogatu baronum suorum eundem resolvens, concessit illi mutare vitam habitumque sæcularem. Qui ingressus monasterium Sancti Albani sub professione monastica ibidem vitam finivit.”

The story about Matilda’s second marriage and divorce comes from Orderic. His story runs thus; “Vir ejus, ut dictum est, in carcere vivebat, nec ipsa, eo vivente, secundum legem Dei alteri nubere legitime valebat. Tandem, permissu Paschalis papæ, cui res a curiosis enucleata patuit, post multos dies Nigellus de Albineio ipsam uxorem accepit, et pro favore nobilium parentum ejus, aliquamdiu honorifice tenuit. Verum, defuncto Gisleberto de Aquila fratre ejus, vafer occasionem divortii exquisivit, eamque, quia consanguinei sui conjux fuerat, repudiavit, et Gundream, sororem Hugonis de Gornaco, uxorem duxit.” If all this happened at all, it must have happened between 1099 and 1118, the years which mark the reign of Paschal.

Matilda of Laigle could not well have been the sister of William the Chaplain to whom Bishop Herbert Losinga writes his third letter (Ep. Herberti, p. 5). He there says; “De matrimonio sororis vestræ non aliud respondeo vobis, quam id quod præsens ex ore meo audivistis, suo videlicet ut vivente viro, secundum evangelium et secundum sanctorum canonum usum, alii viro nubere non potest.” But the person spoken of could hardly have been thinking of such a marriage, unless she had some special excuse, like this of Matilda.

The second wife of Nigel appears both as “Gundrea” and as “Gundreda.” There is a great deal about her husband Nigel and her son Robert, the founder of Byland Abbey, in the Monasticon, v. 346-351. The marriage of Nigel and Gundreda took place after Tinchebrai, and as King Henry gave Nigel the castle of Mowbray, and much else in Normandy and England which had belonged to Earl Robert, their son Roger called himself Roger of Mowbray. Such a description was likely to lead to confusion, and it may have led some to fancy that later bearers of the name of Mowbray had something to do with the famous Bishop and Earl of our story. The artificial Percy is indeed connected with the real one by grandmothers; but the artificial Mowbray was purely artificial. This Roger of Mowbray appears also in the Continuator of William of Jumièges, viii. 8, who tells us that Nigel himself became a monk at Bec.

* * * * *

As Walknol has been casually mentioned in the text (p. 47) there may be some interest in a document in the Cartulary of Newminster published by the Surtees Society, p. 178. The date must be after 1137, the date of the foundation of Newminster. The number of English names, and specially the two bearers of scriptural names who are sons of English-named fathers, illustrate points of which I have often had to speak;

“De terra de Walknol in castro. Johannes filius Edwyni
fabri, salutem. Sciatis me concessisse, dedisse, et hac
præsenti carta mea confirmasse, Bartholomæo filio Edricii
illam terram totam quæ jacet in australi parte cimiterii
capellæ beati Michaelis, in longitudine a curtillo Eadmundi
clerici usque ad terram quæ fuit Johannis Stanhard, et in
latitudine a cimiterio capellæ beati Michaelis usque ad
antiquam communem viam subtus versus austrum. Habendum et
tenendum eidem Bartholomæo et hæredibus suis de me et
hæredibus meis et assignatis in perpetuum, libere, quiete,
et pacifice, pro duabus marcis arg. quas michi dedit idem
Bartholomæus in manu in mea magna necessitate.”

NOTE GG. Vol. ii. p. 79.

THE CONQUEST OF GLAMORGAN.

I gave a note to the conquest of Glamorgan in the Appendix to vol. v. of the Norman Conquest, p. 820. I look, as I did then, upon the account in what I find it convenient to call the later Brut as thoroughly legendary in its details, though I am perhaps inclined to put rather more faith in the general story than I was then. And I am not so much inclined as I was then to draw the same wide distinction as Mr. Floyd draws between the expeditions led by the King himself and those which partook more or less of the character of private adventure. There was doubtless a difference, when it was King William who called the whole force of England to his standard, and when it was only either Earl Hugh or Robert Fitz-hamon who set out on an expedition on his own account. But both processes were parts of the same general undertaking. Whatever individual lords conquered, they conquered with the King’s approval, to be held by them as his vassals and subjects. He himself stepped in only on great occasions, when the Welsh seemed to be getting too strong for the local lords. The same general work must have been going on all over the country. The only strange thing is that the conquest of Glamorgan, of whose general results there can be no doubt, and of which we have so very full a legendary account, is left out altogether in every really trustworthy history.

Jestin ap Gwrgan must be accepted as a real man, on the strength of his real sons and grandsons (for his sons see N. C. vol. v. p. 821); but that is all that can be said of him. We can hardly carry our faith so far as Mr. John Williams ab Ithel, the Editor of the Brut in the Chronicles and Memorials, who asks us (xxiii) to “consider the great age of the prince of Glamorgan when he died. He is said to have married his first wife A.D. 994”――it is perhaps prudent to mention the æra――“and to have died at the age of 111, according to others 129.” We Saxons do not venture to believe in the kindred tales of our own Harold and Gyrth. But we learn from Mr. Williams himself, at the very beginning of his Preface, that “the voice of Tradition would not lead us to suppose that the ancient Britons paid any very particular attention to the study of chronology previous to the era of Prydain, son of Aedd the Great, which is variously dated from the year 1780 to 480 before the nativity of Christ.” If centuries went for so little in the days of Prydain, it is not wonderful that decades did not go for much in the days of Jestin. Nor are we surprised to find that Mr. Williams knew the exact number of the descendants of Jestin, who were, like those of Attila, “pene populus.” All that we can say of Jestin’s story, in relation to Robert Fitz-hamon and his companions, is that there is no trustworthy evidence either for or against the story of his invitation to the Norman knights, but that the tale has a legendary sound, and that the date is in any case wrong. If we should be inclined, according to one or two indications (see p. 84), to place the conquest of Glamorgan several years earlier, perhaps even before the death of the Conqueror, we are only carried away yet further from the perfectly certain date of the death of Rhys ap Tewdwr. All that we can say is that the general story may be true, but that the list of settlers given in the later Brut (72 to 75) is largely due to family vanity. The Stradling family, for instance, had nothing to do with the original conquest.

The best account of the whole matter is to be found in Mr. Clark’s first paper on “The Land of Morgan,” in the Archæological Journal, xxxiv. 11. I cannot however admit with him (p. 18) that “it seems probable that to the early Vikings, and not to the later settlements of Flemings or English, is due the Teutonic element which prevails in the topography of lower Pembroke and Gower.” I am quite ready (see p. 95) to admit a certain Scandinavian element; but the Flemish settlement in Pembrokeshire is undoubtedly historical (see N. C. vol. v. p. 855), while we have fair legendary evidence for making the settlement in Gower West-Saxon (see p. 103). The name of _Worm’s Head_ given to the great promontory of Gower, in marked distinction to the Scandinavian _Orm’s Head_ in North Wales, goes a long way to show that the Teutonic settlers in Gower were either Flemish or Saxon, and not Scandinavian.

NOTE HH. Vol. ii. p. 115.

GODWINE OF WINCHESTER AND HIS SON ROBERT.

I gave a short note to the history of Robert son of Godwine in N. C. vol. v. p. 819. On going again more minutely through the story, I am even more struck than before by the singular way in which different notices of Robert and Godwine hang together. It is one of the best cases that I know of the argument from undesigned coincidences. Besides the interest of the story in itself, it teaches us, like many other stories, how, if we work with a proper caution, we may dig truth out of quarters where we should hardly have looked for it, and it may specially suggest matter for thought as to the value of those pieces of Scottish history which one hardly knows whether to call the writings of Turgot or Fordun, or of any one else. I suspect that, if we simply read the story of Godwine and Robert as it stands in Fordun, we should be inclined to cast it aside altogether. The story undoubtedly has a legendary air, and the details of the single combat are likely enough to have received some legendary colouring even at the time. Some might even be a little startled at the appearance of Englishmen of knightly rank at the court of William Rufus. But we see from Domesday on the one hand, and from William of Malmesbury on the other, that Godwine and Robert were real men, and we see that the part which they play in Fordun’s story is exactly in accordance with their real position.

I have mentioned elsewhere (see N. C. vol. iv. p. 571; vol. v. p. 819) that there was a Godwine holding lands in Hertfordshire of the Ætheling Eadgar. We also have in two places in William of Malmesbury (iii. 251; iv. 384) notices of “Robertus Anglus,” “Robertus filius Godwini miles audacissimus,” who goes to the crusade with the Ætheling, and who does the exploits which I have spoken of in p. 122. Now if circumstantial evidence is ever good for anything, one can hardly doubt that the Godwine of Domesday is the same as the Godwine of William of Malmesbury and as the Godwine of Fordun, and that the Robert son of Godwine in Fordun is the same as the Robert son of Godwine in William of Malmesbury. The three accounts are wholly independent, but all bring Godwine and Robert into connexion with Eadgar. It is almost inconceivable that Fordun’s story should be mere invention, when it makes men of whom so little is known act exactly in character with the little that is known of them.

In the account in Fordun (ii. 22, Surtees Simeon 263), Ordgar, “Orgarus,” is described in the one text as “miles degener Anglicus,” in the other as “miles de genere Anglico,” which is clearly the better reading.

The name of Ordgar appears only twice in Domesday. In Oxfordshire, 161, Ordgar, a king’s thegn, holds two hides of the worth of forty shillings. He had two slaves on his domain, and half a carucate was held by two villains or churls. We then read, “Godwinus libere tenuit.” This is pretty sure to be our Ordgar, and it may very well be our Godwine, though we can say nothing for certain about so common a name. If they are the same, here is great likelihood, though no proof, that Godwine may have had other ground for willingness to fight Ordgar, besides his loyalty to the Ætheling. Ordgar, on the other hand, appears in Somerset, 93, as holding a hide which had passed to Robert of Courcelles, and which, with a good deal more, was held by Anschitil. Ordgar was not the only Englishman who, among the endless forfeitures and grants――to say nothing of ordinary sales, bequests, and exchanges, which went on T. R. W. as well as T. R. E.――lost in one part of England and gained in another.

In Fordun’s story Eadgar is described as “clito Eadgarus, viz. genere gloriosus, nam sic ipsum nominabant.” “De genere gloriosus,” it will be marked, is a more literal translation of “Clito” than it is of “Ætheling.” William is inclined to hearken to Ordgar, “quia Eadgarus de regia stirpe fuerat progenitus, et regno, jure Anglico, proximus.” We then read, “nec incerta de Eadgaro jam poterat esse sententia, si crimen impositum probari potuisset.” Eadgar is in great trouble for fear of not finding a champion, when Godwine steps forward; “Miles de Wintonia, Anglicus natione, genere non ignobilis, nomine Godwinus, veteris parentelæ ipsius non immemor, opem se præstiturum in hac re tam difficili compromisit.”

The two knights now go forth, as I have described in the text, and we have a significant comment on the lack of English patriotism shown by Ordgar;

“Hinc etiam calumniatorem cum justa animadversione increpat,
qui Anglicus genere existens naturæ videretur impugnator,
quem enim ut dominum venerari debuerat, utpote de jure
generis existens cui se et omnia sua debuisset.”

Then come the details of the combat. We hear no more of Godwine after his victory and reward, which last is thus told; “Superati hostis terras et possessiones hereditario jure rex ei concederet possidendas.” “Hereditario jure” most likely simply means, as usual, that the land was to go on to Godwine’s heirs. It need not refer to the probable fact that part at least of Ordgar’s lands had once belonged to Godwine.

Robert first appears in Fordun, v. 25, on the march to Scotland (see p. 119). He is introduced as “quidam miles, Anglicus genere, Robertus nomine, filius antedicti Godwini, paternæ probitatis imitator et hæres.” Then come his exploits and adventures in Britain, as I have told them in the text. Afterwards must come his crusading exploits as described by William of Malmesbury. In the earlier of his two accounts (see p. 122) one might almost have thought that King Baldwin had no companion except Robert. The second passage, which gives them four other companions, has therefore the force of a correction; “Rex … quinque militibus comitatus, in montana rependo, insidiantes elusit. Militum fuit unus Robertus Anglus, ut superius dixi; cæteros notitiæ nostræ fama tam longinqua occubuit. Ille cum tribus comprehensus est; unus evasit cum rege.” Another point which is worth notice is that the period of the crusade at which Robert is brought in exactly agrees with the story of his doings in Scotland and Northumberland. A man who had difficulties with Flambard after he became bishop in 1099 could not have been with the first crusaders at Antioch and Jerusalem; he might have been quite in time to help Baldwin at Rama.

* * * * *

It would be worth the while of some Hertfordshire antiquary to see whether anything can be made out as to the descent of the lands held by Godwine, or as to any descendants of him and Robert. But I saw a little time back a newly published history of that county, which was eloquent about the grandmothers of various obscure persons of our own time, but which had not a word to say about the champion of Eadgar or the comrade of Baldwin.

NOTE II. Vol. ii. p. 133.

THE EXPEDITION OF MAGNUS.

The expedition of Magnus, which, by leading him to the shores of Anglesey, had a not unimportant bearing on English affairs, is not spoken of at any great length by our own writers. The Chronicler does not name the Norwegian king; but he does not fail to mention the death of Earl Hugh of Shrewsbury, and, what was practically its most important result, the succession of his brother Robert. His words are; “And Hugo eorl wearð ofslagen innan Anglesege fram ut wikingan and his broðer Rodbert wearð his yrfenuma, swa swa he hit æt þam cynge ofeode.” Florence is fuller;

“Eo tempore rex Norreganorum Magnus, filius regis Olavi,
filii regis Haroldi Harvagri, Orcadas et Mevanias insulas
cum suo adjecisset imperio, paucis navibus advectus illuc
venit. At cum ad terram rates appellere vellet comes Hugo de
Scrobbesbyria, multis armatis militibus in ipsa maris ripa
illi occurrit, et, ut fertur, mox ab ipso rege sagitta
percussus … interiit.”

Florence, it will be seen, here makes the same confusion between the names _Hardrada_ and _Harfagra_ which he made in 1066, and which so many others made beside him. To the account in William of Malmesbury, iv. 329, I have referred in p. 134. He alone it is who mentions the presence of the younger Harold in the fleet of Magnus. His words, which I quoted in p. 124, seem to come from the same source as the account in Florence; but he gives the story a different turn by distinctly making Magnus design an attack on England;

“Jam Angliam per Anglesiam obstinatus petebat; sed
occurrerunt ei comites, Hugo Cestrensis et Hugo
Scrobesbiriensis; et antequam continentem ingrederetur,
armis eum expulerunt. Cecidit ibi Hugo Scrobesbiriensis,
eminus ferreo hastili perfossus.”

Henry of Huntingdon would seem to translate the Chronicle; but he makes a confusion as to the persons by whom Earl Hugh was slain; “Hugo consul Salopscyre occisus est ab Hibernensibus. Cui successit Robertus de Belem frater ejus.”

If we could suppose that the Archdeacon of Huntingdon had paid so much attention to British affairs, we might fancy that he confounded the fleet of Magnus with the wikings from Ireland whom Cadwgan and Gruffydd hired a little time before. See p. 128.

The Welsh writers naturally tell the tale as part of their own history. The Earls have come into Anglesey; then comes Magnus. There are two different accounts in two manuscripts of the Annales Cambriæ; that which the editor follows in the text runs thus;

“Francis in insula morantibus, Magnus rex Germaniæ cum
exercitu venit in insulam volens. Sed ei nolenti Franci ei
occurrentes se invicem sagittis salutaverunt, hi de terra,
illi de mari, alter comes sagitta in facie percussus
occubuit. Quo facto, Magnus abivit.”

The other manuscript reads;

“Francis in insula morantibus, Magnus rex Germaniæ ad
insulam Mon venit et prœlium cum consulibus commisit; sed
alter consulum vulneratus in facie cecidit; alter vero cum
majoribus insulam dereliquit. Postea vero Magnus rex insulam
Mon repente reliquit.”

The Brut says;

“The French entered the island, and killed some of the men
of the island. And whilst they tarried there, Magnus, King
of Germany, came, accompanied by some of his ships, as far
as Mona, hoping to be enabled to take possession of the
countries of the Britons. And when King Magnus had heard of
the frequent designs of the French to devastate the whole
country, and to reduce it to nothing, he hastened to attack
them. And as they were mutually shooting, the one party from
the sea, and the other party from the land, Earl Hugh was
wounded in the face, by the hand of the King himself. And
then King Magnus, with sudden determination, left the
borders of the country.”

It will be seen that both versions of the Annals call Magnus “rex Germaniæ.” In the text of the Brut he is “Magnus brenhin Germania.” Another manuscript, worse informed as to his name, better informed as to his kingdom, calls him “Maurus brenhin Norwei.” This odd description of a Norwegian king as king of Germany has been met with before in the Brut, 1056; but it is not found in the Annals for that year. But it must have been by a kindred flight that the annalist in 1066 called Harold Hardrada “rex Gothorum.”

* * * * *