Chapter XXVIII: Appendix: NOTE A. Vol. i. p. 11 (8)

Our fuller accounts of the course of Magnus come from Orderic, from the Manx Chronicle, and from the Saga of Magnus Barefoot (Johnstone, 231; Laing, iii. 129). Orderic, as we have seen, looks upon the expedition as being directly designed against Ireland. The Norwegian writer mentions Ireland only quite incidentally. Magnus plunders in Ireland, as everywhere else, on his way to Man, but the object of the expedition is clearly marked as being Man and the other islands which were so closely connected with it, a connexion which is also most strongly set forth in the pompous words of Orderic (767 D). We can have little doubt in accepting the Manx writer’s version of the history of his own island, rather than that of the Norwegian writer, to whom the internal affairs of the island were of no great interest, or the wild statement of Orderic (see p. 141) that Man was at this moment a desert island. On the other hand, the Saga is the best authority for the actual voyage of Magnus, though it is the Manx writer who preserves the fact or legend of the irreverent dealings of Magnus towards his sainted kinsman. As to what happened in Anglesey, I have already quoted the accounts of the English and Welsh writers, and the Manx chronicler does not go into any greater detail;

“Ad Moiniam insulam Walliæ navigavit, et duos Hugones
comites invenit in ea; unum occidit, alterum fugavit, et
insulam sibi subjugavit. Wallenses vero multa munera ei
præbuerunt, et valedicens eis ad Manniam remeavit.”

The detailed accounts of the death of Earl Hugh come from the Saga and from Orderic. Orderic, it must be remembered, is writing on a subject of special interest to him, on account of his close connexion from childhood with the house of Montgomery. On the other hand, as we have seen (see p. 143), he does not well understand the geography, and seems to fancy that Dwyganwy was in Anglesey. But it will be at once seen that he conceives the death of Earl Hugh in a quite different way from the author of the Saga. In Orderic’s story, though there is a great deal of preparation for fighting, there is no actual fighting at all, except the one shot sent from the bow of the Norwegian King. His version stands thus;

“Quadam vero die, dum supra littus indigenæ turbati
discurrerent, seque contra Nordicos, quos in navibus suis
sævire contra Anglos videbant, præpararent, Hugo comes,
equum calcaribus urgens, cœtus suos congregabat, et contra
hostes, ne sparsim divisi invaderentur, principali rigore
coercebat. Interea barbarus Nordwigena, ut comitem agiliter
equitantem prospexit, instigante diabolo stridulum missile
subito direxit, egregiumque comitem, proh dolor! percussit.
Qui protinus corruit, et in fluctibus maris jam æstuantis
exspiravit. Unde dolor ingens exortus est.”

This really seems hardly possible, and the Welsh account, as well as the Norwegian, distinctly records fighting and shooting of arrows on both sides. The Saga gives us the details, both in prose and verse. The shooting of the King and the other archer is described in prose as I have told it in p. 144, and both the death of Earl Hugh and the general picture of the battle are given in vigorous verse from the minstrelsy of Biorn Cripplehand (Biörn inn Krepphendi). Besides the verses which Laing translates, the Saga gives others from another poet, Gisl, who vigorously describes the fight between the King and those whom he calls the _Welsh_ Earls (Valsea Jarla), meaning doubtless rather Gal-Welsh than Bret-Welsh;

“Margan hŏfdo
Magnuss lidar
Biortom oddi
Baugvang skotit.
Vard hortoga
Hlif at springa
Kapps vel skiput
Fyrer konongs darri.
Bodkenner skaut
Badom hŏndum
Allr va hilmis
Herr prudliga
Stucku af almi
Þeims iŏfr sueigdi
Hvitmylingar
Adr Hugi felli.”

The relations between Magnus and the Irish King Murtagh are very puzzling. Orderic must have made some mistake when he attributes the expedition of Magnus to a dispute with an Irish king whose daughter he marries and sends back again (767 C, D). This must surely be a confusion between Magnus himself and his son Sigurd, who, according to the Saga, did marry the Irish king’s daughter. But it is possible that Orderic’s story about the Irish princess being sent back again, because her father did not fulfil the marriage contract, may be true of Sigurd, though not of his father. We should thus better understand the transactions which go on a little later about the marriage of a daughter of Murtagh, seemingly the same, to Arnulf son of Earl Roger (see p. 442). The Manx writer has nothing to say about these marriages, but he fills up the space between this expedition of Magnus and that in which he fell with some very strange dealings between Magnus and Murtagh. Magnus sends his shoes to the Irish king, bidding him bear them on his shoulders in public as a sign of subjection to their owner (“Murecardo regi Yberniæ misit calceamenta sua, præcipiens ei ut ea super humeros suos in die natalis Domini per medium domus suæ portaret in conspectu nunciorum ejus, quatinus intelligeret se subjectum esse Magno regi”). The Irish are naturally angry; but their king takes matters more quietly. He would willingly not only carry the shoes but eat them, sooner than a single province of Ireland should be laid waste. So he did as he was bid (“rex, saniori consilio usus, non solum, inquit, calceamenta ejus portare, verum etiam manducare mallem, quam Magnus rex unam provinciam in Ybernia destrueret. Itaque complevit præceptum et nuncios honoravit”). The Irish writers of course know nothing about the shoes; but the Chronicon Scotorum records a year’s peace made in 1098 between Murtagh and Magnus (“Magnus ri Lochlainne”). The Manx chronicler also goes on to say that a treaty followed the ceremony of the shoes, but that the ambassadors of Magnus gave such a report of the charms of Ireland, that he determined to invade it again in breach of the treaty.

This brings us to the date of the last expedition of Magnus. The Chronicon Scotorum records the death of Magnus (“Magnus ri Lochlainne ocus na Ninnsit”) in 1099 in an attack on Ulster. But this date must be too early. The Norwegian account places the second expedition of Magnus nine years after his accession in Norway (Laing, iii. 143, Johnstone, 239). This would fix its date to 1102. This is the date commonly given, with 1103, as the year of his death. The Manx writer places the death of Magnus six years after his first expedition (“regnavit in regno insularum sex annis,” p. 7), which would put his death in 1104. But he gives 1102 as the date of his successor in the island kingdom, Olaf the son of Godred Crouan (see p. 137). He was, it seems, at the English court; “Quo [Magno] mortuo, miserunt principes insularum propter Olavum filium Godredi Crouan, de quo superius mentionem fecimus, qui tunc temporis degebat in curia Henrici regis Angliæ filii Willelmi, et adduxerunt eum.”

The date of 1102 exactly falls in with the account of the attempt of Robert of Bellême to obtain help from Magnus in that year (see p. 442). For this I have followed the account in the Brut (1100; that is 1102). But it would seem that the Welsh writer was mistaken in saying that Magnus “sent over to Ireland, and demanded the daughter of Murchath for his son; for that person was the chiefest of the Gwyddelians; which he joyfully obtained; and he set up that son to be king in the Isle of Man.” His death is recorded in the next year, 1101 (1103), when “Magnus King of Germany” (“Vagnus vrenhin Germania”) is made to invade Britain and be killed by the Britons, who are said to have come “from the mouths of the caves in multitudes like ants in pursuit of their spoils.” Another manuscript for “Prydein” reads “Llẏchljẏn,” that is Denmark, which does not make matters much better. The followers of Magnus are called in the one manuscript “Albanians” (“yr Albanóyr”), meaning doubtless Scots; in the other manuscript they are men of Denmark (“gwyr Denmarc”). The Annales Cambriæ do not mention the dealings between Robert of Bellême and Magnus; but there is an entry under 1103; “Magnus rex apud Dulin [Dublin?] occiditur.”

The death of Magnus in his second Irish expedition is told with great detail in the Saga (Johnstone, 239-244; Laing, iii. 143-147). Orderic also tells the story in p. 812. The Irish, according to this account, call in Arnulf of Montgomery to their help; but, when Magnus is killed, the Irish try to kill Arnulf and his Norman companions. Murtagh now takes away his daughter from Arnulf, and marries her, according to the irregular fashion of the country, to a kinsman (“ipsam petulantem cuidam consobrino suo illicite conjunxit”). But twenty years later, Arnulf, by that time an old man, is reconciled to Murtagh, marries his daughter, and dies the next day. This carries us beyond the range of my story, and I must leave Irish, Norwegian, and Norman enquirers to see to it. It concerns me more that it is now that Orderic mentions the great treasure which Magnus had left with a rich citizen of Lincoln. (See p. 134.) The Lincoln man seems to have thought that the death of the Norwegian king gave his banker a right to his money; but King Henry thought otherwise, and took the twenty thousand pounds to his own hoard.

NOTE KK. Vol. ii. pp. 196, 199, 211.

THE RELATIONS BETWEEN HILDEBERT AND HELIAS.

There is a remarkable difference of tone between Orderic and the Biographer of the Bishops of Le Mans in their way of speaking of Helias. That the Count should be blamed for making Bishop Howel a prisoner (see p. 198) is in no way wonderful; the thing to be noticed is the way in which he several times speaks of Helias during the episcopate of Hildebert; still more remarkable is the way in which Hildebert speaks himself. Orderic always puts the acts of Helias in the best light; the Biographer, during certain parts of his story at least, seems well-pleased to throw in any little insinuation against him. Perhaps the strangest case of all is the way in which he leaves out all mention of the double appointment to the see of Le Mans on the death of Howel (see p. 211), and of the action of Helias in that matter. One would have thought that, even from an ecclesiastical point of view, the story told more for Helias than against him. He put forth a claim which any other prince of his time would have equally put forward; he withdrew it in a way in which very few princes of his time would have withdrawn it. But the Biographer (see p. 297) lets us into the fact that there had been an opposition to Hildebert’s election in the Chapter itself. Could his enemies have been special partisans of Helias, and supporters of his candidate? If so, it is rather strange, though quite possible, that they should have been the accusers of Hildebert to Rufus, when the charge brought against him was that of being a confederate with Helias.

The Biographer is quite loyal to Helias during the campaign of 1098. He brings out prominently (see p. 213, note) the cause of the war, namely the election of Hildebert by the Chapter and his acceptance by the Count, without any regard to the alleged claims of the Norman Dukes. Helias was in fact fighting on behalf of Hildebert. When Helias is taken prisoner, he raises a wail――“proh dolor” (see above, p. 223)――which almost reminds us of Florence’s wail over the death-wound of Harold. He brings out strongly the Red King’s wrath against Hildebert, as shown in his ravages at Coulaines (see p. 234). He brings out also, what Orderic does not mention, the friendly relations between Hildebert and Helias which are shown in the negotiations which led to the Count’s release (see p. 238). We may perhaps infer that, during this stage, the friendship between the Count and the Bishop remained unbroken, and that the Biographer remains the Count’s friend so long as the Bishop does.

During the campaign of 1099 the Biographer’s tone becomes quite different. He has not a word to say about the zeal of the citizens of Le Mans on behalf of Helias, which comes out so strongly in Orderic, and after him in Wace (see p. 279). He rather implies that they fought against him. The enemies who meet him at Pontlieue are “milites regis _cum populo_” (see p. 278, note 2). It is quite possible that, as the Normans had military possession of the city, its levies may have been made, even against their will, to take their place in the Norman ranks, and the presence of such unwilling allies may have very likely helped to bring about the Norman defeat. Still the insertion of the words without any comment or qualification gives the Biographer’s story a different turn from that of Orderic. Yet the Biographer himself after all allows that Helias entered Le Mans with the good-will of the citizens, when he allows (see p. 297) the accusers of Hildebert to say “quando Helias comes _consentientibus civibus_ civitatem occupavit.” He next leaves out the fact recorded by Orderic (see p. 297) that, before William Rufus had crossed the frontier, Hildebert met him and was received to his peace, on affirming that he had no share in the enterprise of Helias. There is nothing wonderful in this. It is a case which often happens. The original cause of a war is forgotten, and the fault of the original enemy is forgiven, when a new enemy has given fresh offence. William was so wroth at Helias for seizing Le Mans, that he forgot any quarrels of earlier date. If Hildebert was clear on that score, William could pass by all that had gone before. He was therefore at this moment ready to forgive Hildebert in his wrath against Helias. But the old enemies of Hildebert in the Chapter were ready, for the sake of the old grudge, to turn against Helias. The chances are that Hildebert had nothing to do with the return of Helias, but that the towers of the cathedral were turned by Helias to military uses. Hildebert most likely deemed――and, as events proved, more wisely than either the Count or the citizens――that the enterprise of Helias was rash, and therefore unjustifiable. This would turn him, at least for the time, into an enemy of Helias, if not into a partisan of Rufus. The Biographer takes up this tone. It may be with a little feeling of spite that he records (see p. 281) the way in which the loyalty of the citizens towards the Count not unnaturally cooled after the fire. There is certainly such a feeling in the passage (see p. 287) where he speaks of Helias as flying, “saluti suæ consulens,” while Orderic rather describes him as swept away in a general flight. But this tone lasts only through the year 1099. When Helias comes back in 1100, all seems to be made up again; we now hear (Vet. An. 309, 311) of the “liberalitas” of the “liberalis comes;” the Normans are “hostes” and Helias brings back peace. That is to say, as the story shows, the Count and the Bishop were again reconciled, and the Biographer follows the lead of the Bishop.

But we need not wonder at the tone of the Biographer, if we know the tone of the Bishop himself. In a letter printed in Duchèsne’s French collection, iv. 247, Hildebert speaks of a space of three years, “peractum triennium,” within which time Le Mans has had six counts, all of them enemies to peace (“tam modico tempore sex in urbe sustinuimus consules, quorum nullus pacificum prætendens ingressum, gladiis et igne curtam sibi vendicavit potestatem.” It is certainly very hard to reckon up six counts in three years, seemingly the years 1096-1099. In twelve years (1087-1099) not more than five counts――William the Great, Robert, Hugh, Helias, William Rufus――can be made out, unless Helias, with his two reigns, is reckoned twice over. Hildebert then goes on;

“Plebe coacta in favorem, tyrannum suscepit ex necessitate,
non ducem ex lege: in susceptum studia simulavit, non
exhibuit. Fidem reperit in ea, quia superior. Consul vero
tanto gravius dominatus est quanto brevius. Miles ejus
simulatis usus injuriis, eos scelerum judicavit expertes
quos rerum. Et quia non parcit populis regnum breve, finem
rapinis inopia posuit, non voluntas.”

This certainly reads most like a description of the reign of Hugh; but in what follows we surely see the events of 1098 and 1099;

“Ea clades usque ad sanctuarium Domini pervagata est, et
primo _quidquid extra muros nostræ fuerat potestatis_, vel
evanuit in favillas vel dissipatum est in rapinam. Deinde
similibus cecidere præjudiciis episcopales domus et ecclesiæ
non paucæ. In reliquis quibus ignis pepercit æque
periclitata est et facultas pauperum et reverentia
sacerdotum. Omnia confracta sunt, omnia direpta, omnia
contaminata. Nihil eorum manus evasit qui gratis ad
flagitium discurrunt, ad honestum nec pretio.”

To what does all this refer? It reads most like a description of the Red King’s harryings at Coulaines in 1098 (see p. 234); but no one is mentioned, whereas the “Rex Anglicus” and his “tyrannis” are openly spoken of further on in the letter. And it is strange, if in all this there is no reference to the fire of 1099. Did Hildebert attribute the fire to Helias, and does that account for any enmity towards him? Yet the version of the Biographer as clearly makes the fire the work of the Normans as the version of Orderic. Helias is not mentioned by name, nor is any recorded act of his distinctly mentioned. The passage is obscure, most likely purposely obscure. It might be so construed as to attribute all mischief to Helias; it might be so construed as not to lay any particular act to his charge. But in any case Helias would at least come under the general condemnation which is pronounced upon all the counts of Maine, be they six or fewer. No friend of Helias could have so spoken; and it is plain that, when Bishop Hildebert wrote the letter, he was――very naturally――not a little angry, if not with Helias in particular, yet at least with a class of men among whom Helias must be reckoned.

Of the rest of the letter I shall have to speak in another Note.

NOTE LL. Vol. ii. p. 238.

THE SURRENDER OF LE MANS TO WILLIAM RUFUS.

It is not very easy at first sight to reconcile our accounts of the negotiations which led to the surrender of Le Mans in August 1098. Yet there seems to be no direct contradiction of any moment. It seems not impossible that the difference is merely one of those cases where one writer gives prominence to some feature in the story which another writer leaves out.

According to all accounts, Le Mans was at this time in the possession of Fulk of Anjou. Orderic (see p. 237) makes him personally present in the city; the Biographer of the Bishops does not say whether he was there or not. But in any case the city had admitted his authority in May and had not yet thrown it off. Fulk was therefore fully in a position to negotiate with William, while Helias, who was a prisoner in William’s hands, was not strictly in a position to negotiate with anybody. Yet the Biographer makes no mention of Fulk as an actor or a party to the treaty, but only as one of whose devices Helias was afraid. In his version Bishop Hildebert and some of the chief men of Le Mans first, by the King’s leave, visit the captive Count, and agree on terms with him; then they draw up a treaty with the King according to those terms. The tale runs thus (Vet. An. 306);

“Helias timens ne Fulco comes proscriptioni ejus intenderet,
manduvit ad se episcopum et quosdam ex primoribus civitatis
ex consensu regis, et cœpit agere cum eis, eosque
suppliciter deprecari, quatenus casibus illius condolentes,
modis omnibus niterentur, qualiter civitatem regi traderent,
ipsumque a vinculis liberarent. Timebat enim quod Fulco
comes, regis deceptus muneribus, cum eo pacem faceret, atque
civitate tradita perpetuo damnaretur exsilio. Episcopus
autem et qui cum eo venerant, ejus angustias miserantes, cum
rege de ejus liberatione locuti, cum eo tale pactum
fecerunt, ut si eorum consilio atque ingenio sibi civitas
traderetur, ipse Heliam comitem quietum et liberum abire
permitteret.”

He adds, hurrying matters a little; “Quod negotium industria præsulis celerius quam sperabatur effectum, eodemque tempore et regi civitas et consuli abeundi libertas reddita est.”

Orderic, on the other hand (772 D), has a version in which there is no mention of any dealings with Helias, but which makes William and Fulk――the latter, it would seem, under some pressure――agree on terms substantially the same as those stated in the other account. His version runs thus;

“Andegavenses autem cum Cenomannis consiliati sunt, et sese
Normannis in omnibus inferiores compererunt, unde colloquium
inter regem et consulem procuraverunt. Ibi tunc, auxiliante
Deo, necessaria pax inter eos facta est, et inde multis pro
pluribus causis utriusque populi gaudium ingens exortum est.
Requisitum est et concessum ut Helias comes et omnes qui
capti fuerant ex utraque parte redderentur, et Cenomannis et
_omnia castra quæ Guillelmus rex habuerat Rufo filio ejus
subjugarentur_.”

The joy of which Orderic speaks clearly did not extend to Angers. The Chronicle of Saint Albinus (1098) puts things in quite another light; “Quam [Cenomanniam urbem] tribus mensibus retentam, Cenomanensibus, more suo, sibi fraudantibus et a se deficientibus, reddidit eam in amicitia præfato regi Anglorum, qui ipsam urbem _magis pecunia quam viribus impugnabat_ jamque pene possidebat.”

Here we have no mention of Helias or of any dealings with him, nothing of any agreement between Fulk and William. The citizens of Le Mans fall away from the Angevin Count and betray their city to the King. And they fall away through the temptation which the Red King knew well how to bring to bear upon his other enemies, but of which there is no recorded instance in the whole history of the war of Maine. See p. 290.

The tone and effect of these stories is very different, and yet they seem quite capable of being put together. It is simply that each writer enlarges on the persons and things which he cares most about. The Biographer of the Bishops of course enlarges on the part taken by Hildebert; next to Hildebert, he has to tell of Helias. A mission of Hildebert to Helias was a thing which he could not leave out; the fact that the terms were settled between his own Bishop and his own Count was more interesting to him than the fact that those terms were put in the form of a formal treaty between two foreign princes. He cannot leave out the Norman king, but he can and does leave out the Angevin count. He speaks of a treaty between William and Fulk as a thing which was likely to happen; he leaves out the fact that it actually did happen. The Angevin Chronicler is angry at the loss of Le Mans, and is glad to speak of its loss as due altogether to Cenomannian treason or fickleness. Orderic alone, who is, more strictly than either of the others, telling the history of the campaign, and who is less influenced by local passion one way or another, brings out the diplomatic fact that the treaty was formally agreed to in a meeting between King William and Count Fulk. It must have taken the shape of an agreement of some kind between them, unless Fulk and his troops had been driven out of Le Mans by force. But this in no way shuts out the possibility of the dealings between Hildebert and Helias which are described by the Biographer. The state of things would seem to be this. The people of Le Mans, tired of Fulk, unable to have Helias, think that the best thing is to submit to William, but on terms which will secure at least the personal freedom of their native prince. Hildebert and his companions are allowed by William to confer with Helias. The results of the conference are put into the shape of a treaty between William and Fulk. Fulk is in no condition to resist William and the Cenomannian people together; he therefore accepts the treaty, doubtless against his will. Thus the accounts of Orderic and the Biographer seem simply to fill up gaps in one another. The Angevin chronicler simply gives a short and snarling summary of the actual result.

NOTE MM. Vol. ii. p. 239.

THE FORTRESSES OF LE MANS.

A great deal about the walls and the castle of Le Mans, as well as about several other points in the county of Maine, will be found in M. Hucher’s book, _Études sur l’Histoire et les Monuments du Département de la Sarthe_ (Le Mans and Paris, 1856). M. Hucher however hardly carries his researches beyond the city itself; so that, while his remarks and the documents which he quotes tell us much about the “regia turris,” the castle close to the cathedral, he has but little to tell us about the fortress of Mont-Barbé, which is for our purpose of at least equal interest.

I have quoted elsewhere (N. C. iii. 207) some of the passages which record the building of at least two castles by the Conqueror, the royal tower and that of Mont-Barbé. In the extract from William of Jumièges for “_p_onte Barbato” we must read “_m_onte.” Benoît, oddly enough, knew the name of Mont-Barbé, but did not know that of the royal tower (35735);

“Por ce i ferma deus chasteaus
Hauz, defensables, forz e beaus;
Li uns en out non Monbarbé:
Mais que issi fu apelé
Ne sai retraire ne ne truis.”

Wace, on the other hand (15014), in his wild chronology of all Cenomannian matters, makes William Rufus build this castle in the expedition of 1099;

“Li Reis vint el Mans fièrement,
Son hostel prist vers Saint Vincent.
Por grever cels de la cité
Fist la mote devant Barbé.”

But this story, though utterly out of its place, may possibly preserve a fact. The royal tower was undoubtedly built by the Conqueror after he had taken Le Mans in 1063 in order to secure the possession of the city. But Mont Barbé looks rather like one of the besieging castles made in order to get possession. Nothing is now left but the mound. William may conceivably have found this mound ready made. If not, his building of 1063 must have been of wood, though it may very likely have had a stone successor. The mound, not far from Saint Vincent’s abbey, stands in a private garden, and the visitor to Le Mans, unless he has local guidance, may very likely fail to find it. I missed it at my first visit in 1868, which must be my excuse for the rather vague language in the third volume of the Norman Conquest. I saw it for the first time in 1876, through the kindness of M. Henri Chardon, and again in 1879 with Mr. Parker and Mr. Fowler.

The question remains, Was there a Mons _Barbatulus_ as well as a Mons _Barbatus_? The passages quoted from Orderic and William of Jumièges (N. C. vol. iii. p. 207) seem to imply it; only the odd thing is that the words of William of Jumièges seem to leave out the royal tower, and to speak of _Barbatus_ and _Barbatulus_ only. And one might take the words of Wace, “La mote _devant_ Barbé,” to mean _Barbatulus_ rather than _Barbatus_; only it would be hard to find another _mota_. _Barbatulus_ is conjecturally, but with every likelihood, placed on the site of the present Lyceum, between _Barbatus_ and the city.

The royal tower was built just outside the Roman wall, two of whose bastions, known as _La Tour Margot_――after Margaret, the promised bride of Robert?――and _La Tour du Cavalier_, were taken into its precinct. All these must be distinguished from the palace of the Counts (see N. C. vol. iii. p. 205) which stands on the Roman wall, almost in a line with the east end of the cathedral. It contains a window of the twelfth century, of great width, a feature characteristic of Le Mans. In this palace was the _sainte chapelle_ of the Counts.

NOTE NN. Vol. ii. p. 240.

THE DATES OF THE BUILDING OF LE MANS CATHEDRAL.

I have more than once, in the History of the Norman Conquest, had to speak of the dates of the various parts of the church of Saint Julian at Le Mans. The subject is so closely connected with so many names which appear in our story that an inquiry of this kind can hardly be thought out of place. My later visits to Le Mans have enabled me to examine and consider several points again; and I am now inclined to think that there is very little, if anything, standing in the present church of an earlier date than William the Conqueror’s first taking of Le Mans in 1063. I have got some help from a local book, called “Recherches sur la Cathédrale du Mans. Par L’Abbé….” (Le Mans, 1872); but its architectural criticism is not of a high order. Another local book, “L’Ancien Chapitre Cathédral du Mans, par Armand Bellée, Archiviste de la Sarthe” (Le Mans, 1875), is a very thorough piece of capitular history, but it throws little light on the architecture.

The earliest church of which we have any certain account was a basilica of the ninth century. Saint Aldric, bishop from 832 to 856, rebuilt the cathedral church, of which he consecrated the eastern part in 834 and the rest in 835. I have for these dates to trust the author of the “Recherches sur la Cathédrale du Mans,” who quotes from a manuscript life of Aldric in the library at Le Mans. (I have seen the volume, and I could wish that it was in print.) The time allowed for the building is wonderfully short; but Aldric, if he did all that is attributed to him by the Biographer of the Bishops (Vet. An. 276), must have been a man of wonderful energy. There is nothing said directly of his works at Saint Julian’s; but they might almost be taken for granted when we hear of the many churches which he built and restored (“Ædificia quæ prædictus pontifex multipliciter a novo operatus est, et ecclesias sive nonnulla monasteria quæ a novo fundavit atque perficere et ornare studuit, necnon et restaurationes aliorum monasteriorum et ceterarum ecclesiarum,” &c. &c. &c). In the days of the next Bishop Robert (856-885) Le Mans was sacked by the Northmen and the church burned. We are of course met by the usual difficulty as to the amount of destruction which is implied in words of this kind; but it naturally led to a restoration, and to a new dedication, on which last point however it seems to have been thought needful to consult the Pope (“Matrem ecclesiam, a paganis incensam, diligenti studio renovavit, et ex consilio Romani antistitis jam denuo celeberrime consecravit;” 287*). We hear again (296*) of a dedication under Bishop Mainard (940-960); but not of any rebuilding, just as in some of the intermediate episcopates (Vet. An. 288* et seqq.) we hear a good deal about havoc and desecration, but nothing about actual destruction. The church of Aldric, allowing for the restorations of Robert and any later repairs, seems plainly to have stood till the days of Vulgrin (1055-1067), the earliest Bishop of Le Mans who has even an indirect share in the building of the present church. No work of his, unless possibly the merest fragments, seems to be now standing; but he was the beginner of a great work of rebuilding which gave us what we now see.

In the Life of Vulgrin (Vet. An. 312*) we are simply told that in 1060 he began the foundations of a new church on a greater scale (“Quinto ordinationis suæ anno fundamenta matris ecclesiæ ampliora quam fuerant, inchoavit, sed morte inopina superveniente perficere non potuit”). His foundations were badly laid and his work was unskilful; so that, while attempts were making under his successor Arnold (1067-1082) to prop it up, it fell down. Arnold accordingly destroyed the whole work of Vulgrin, and began again from a new foundation. The extent of his work is clearly marked. He finished the eastern limb, as far as its walls and outer roof were concerned; its internal adornments he left for his successor. Of the transepts with their towers he merely laid the foundations;

“Fabrica novæ ecclesiæ quam præsul Vulgrinus inchoaverat,
fundamentorum mobilitate atque lapidum debilitate corrupta,
innumera crepidine ruinam suam cœpit terribiliter minitari;
quam dum artifices fulcire conantur, repentino fragore
nocturno tempore collapsa est…. Inde … episcopus totam cœpti
operis fabricam usque ad ima fundamenta destruens, denuo
ipsam ecclesiam fundamento firmiori et solidiori lapide
construere cœpit, et parti superiori quæ vulgo cancellum
nominatur etiam tectum imposuit, membrorum quoque quæ cruces
vocantur atque turrium solidissima fundamenta antequam
moreretur instituens” (313*).

That he added only the outer roof is plain from what we read of his successor Howel (Vet. An. 289). As Howel adorned the “cancellum” with a pavement and stained glass windows, he also added a painted ceiling;

“Cancellum quod ejus antecessor construxerat pavimento
decoravit et cœlo, vitreas quoque per ipsum cancellum, per
quod cruces circum quoque laudabili sed sumptuosa nimium
artis varietate disponens.”

So again, p. 299;

“Cœpit … superiores partes ejusdem basilicæ diligenti
sollicitudine laborare, oratorium scilicet quod chorum
vocitant sedemque pontificalem, altaria congrua dimensione
disponere, pavimenta substernere, columnas ac laquearia
gratissima varietate depingere, parietes per circuitum
dealbare.”

Howel also finished the transepts and towers of which Arnold had merely laid the foundations (Vet. An. 289);

“Fabricam novæ ecclesiæ … tanto studio aggressus est
consummare ut cruces atque turres, quarum antecessor ipsius
… jecerat fundamenta brevi tempore ad effectum perduxit.”

We see then what the work of Vulgrin and Arnold was. It touched the eastern part only; Aldric’s nave was left alone. The original church was a basilica, most likely with three apses, but without transepts. The new design was to rebuild the eastern part on a greater scale with transepts, transept towers (like Geneva and Exeter), and a choir ending in an apse with a surrounding aisle and chapels――as is shown by the mention of many altars. The arrangement was that of the two other great churches of Le Mans, _La Couture_ and Saint Julian in the Meadow, with the single exception of the towers, which do not appear in either of those churches. Arnold built the choir, and began the transepts and towers; Howel adorned the choir and finished the transepts and towers. There is nothing to imply that either of them touched the nave. The arcades of Aldric’s basilica were therefore still standing when William the Great came in 1063 and again in 1073. The work of Vulgrin in the eastern part was doubtless going on at the earlier of those two dates, and that of Arnold at the later.

It must be plain to every one who has seen the building that the work of these bishops in the eastern part of the church has given way to the later choir and transepts. The choir was built between 1218 and 1254, and its great extension to the east involved, as at Lincoln, the destruction of part of the Roman wall. The transepts were built at several times from 1303 to 1424. They are among the very noblest works of the architecture of those centuries; but we may be allowed to rejoice that, as the works of Vulgrin and Arnold left Aldric’s nave standing, so the great works of the thirteenth century and later have left the nave which succeeded that of Aldric. With all its artistic loveliness, the work of the later day cannot share the historic interest of the works of the times of William and Howel, of Helias and Hildebert.

In the present nave it is plain at the first glance that there are two dates of Romanesque; a further examination may perhaps lead to the belief that there are more than two. It is easy to see outside that the aisles and the clerestory are of different dates. The masonry of the aisles is of that Roman type which, in places like Le Mans, where Roman models were abundant, remained in use far into the middle ages, and which in some places can hardly be said to have ever gone out of use at all. The masonry of the clerestory is ashlar. The difference is equally clear between the plain single windows of the aisles and the highly finished coupled windows of the clerestory. Inside, the eye soon sees that the design has undergone a singular change. Without the pulling down of any part, the church put on a new character. Columns supporting round arches after the manner of a basilica were changed into a series of alternate columns and square piers supporting obtusely pointed arches. Each pair of arches therefore forms a couplet, and answers to a single bay of the pointed vaulting and a single pair of windows in the clerestory. The object clearly was to give the building as nearly the air of an Angevin nave, like that of La Couture (see N. C. vol. v. p. 619), as could be given where there were real piers and arches. Now this reconstruction, one which brings in the pointed arch, cannot possibly be earlier than the episcopate of William of Passavant, Bishop from 1143 to 1187. He was a great builder; he translated the body of Saint Julian (Vet. An. 366); he celebrated a dedication of the church (Ib. 370), which my local book fixes, seemingly from manuscripts, to 1158, a date a little early perhaps for such advanced work, but not impossible. To William of Passavant then we must attribute the recasting of the nave, and whatever else seems to be of the same date. To this last head belongs the great south porch, and, I should be inclined to add, the lower part of the southern, the only remaining, tower, though some assign it to Hildebert. The question now comes, What was the nave which William of Passavant recast in this fashion, and whose work was it?

We have seen that we cannot attribute any work in the nave to any prelate earlier than Howel. He must have found the nave of the ninth century still standing. Did he do anything in that part of the church? He performed a ceremony of dedication in 1093 (Vet. An. 300); but that would be fully accounted for by his works in the eastern part. On the other hand, Hildebert celebrated in 1120 (Vet. An. 320) a specially solemn dedication, and the words used seem to imply that the church was now complete in all its parts. The words of Orderic (531 D) seem express. Howel began to build the church (“episcopalem basilicam … condere cœpit”); Hildebert finished it (“basilicam episcopii quam prædecessor ejus inchoaverat, consummavit, et cum ingenti populorum tripudio veneranter dedicavit”). It is doubtless not strictly true that Howel began the church, words which shut out the work of Vulgrin and Arnold; but the time when Orderic wrote makes him a better authority for Hildebert’s finishing than for Howel’s beginning, and the expression might easily be used if Howel began that particular work, namely the nave, which Hildebert finished. I do not think that we need infer from certain expressions of the Biographer that Hildebert left the nave, or any essential part of the building, unfinished. He says indeed (Vet. An. 320);

“Hildebertus opus ecclesiæ, quod per longa tempora
protractum fuerat, suo tempore insistens consummare,
dedicationem ultra quam res exposcebat accelerans, multa
inibi necessaria inexpleta præteriit.”

Comparing this with the words of Orderic, this surely need not mean more than that, though the fabric was perfect, yet much of the ornamental work was left unfinished. Hildebert, in short, left the nave much as Arnold left the choir. At least the nave was in this case when he dedicated the church. For he had time after the dedication to make good anything that was imperfect.

We should then infer from Orderic that the nave which William of Passavant recast was begun by Howel and finished by Hildebert. This may give us the key to a passage in the Biographer on which we might otherwise be inclined to put another meaning. After describing Howel’s building of the transepts in the words quoted above in p. 635, he goes on (289);

“Eisque [crucibus] celeriter culmen imponens, exteriores
etiam parietes, quos alas vocant, per circuitum
consummavit.”

One might have been tempted to take this of transept aisles; but, weighing one thing with another, it seems to be best understood as meaning that Howel rebuilt the whole of the outer walls of the nave and its aisles. This would give to him the whole extent of the _quasi_-Roman work of the aisles, together with the great western doorway. The interior work of the aisles seems also to agree with his date. We must therefore suppose that Howel rebuilt the nave aisles only, still leaving the arches of Aldric’s basilica. Then Hildebert rebuilt or thoroughly restored the nave itself, with the columns and arches and whatever they carried in the way of triforium and clerestory. We may therefore suppose that the existing columns, as distinguished from the square piers, are his work, though the splendid capitals of many of them must have been added or carved out of the block in the recasting by William of Passavant.

There is however one fragment of the nave arcades which is older than Hildebert, very likely older than Howel. This is to be seen in the first pier from the east. I need not say that the eastern bay of a nave often belongs to an older work than the rest, being in truth part of the eastern limb continued so far――perhaps for constructive reasons, to act as a buttress――perhaps for ritual reasons, to mark the ritual choir――very often for both reasons combined. One of the best examples is that small part of the nave of Durham abbey which belongs to the work of William of Saint-Calais (see N. C. vol. v. p. 631). At this point then in the nave of Le Mans, we find half columns with capitals and bases of a strangely rude kind, more like Primitive Romanesque (see N. C. vol. v. pp. 613, 618, 628) than anything either Norman or Angevin. These are assuredly not the work of Hildebert. There is one argument for assigning them to Howel, namely that something of the same kind is to be found in the remains of the northern tower of which I shall speak in another Note (see below, Note RR). But if any one holds them to be the work of Arnold or of Vulgrin, or even looks on them as a surviving fragment of the basilica of the days of Lewis the Pious, I shall not dispute against him.

I must add however that, between Hildebert and William of Passavant, we have, according to the use of Le Mans, to account for two fires――“solita civitatis incendia,” as the Biographer (Vet. An. 349) calls them――and their consequences. In 1134 there was a fire which, according to the Biographer (350), was more fearful than any which had ever happened at Le Mans since the city was built, not even excepting the great one of 1098. Everything perished. “Tota Cenomannensis civitas cum omnibus ecclesiis quæ intra muros continebantur, evanuit in favillas.” We read of the “matris ecclesiæ destructio” and “combustio,” all the more lamentable because of its beauty――“ipsa enim tam venustate sui quam claritate tunc temporis vicinis et remotis excellebat ecclesiis.” So Orderic (899 B); “Tunc Cenomannis episcopalis basilica, quæ pulcherrima erat, concremata est.” The then Bishop, Guy of Étampes (1126-1136), spent two hundred pounds in trying to repair the damage; “Ad cujus restaurationem cc. libras Cenomannenses dedit, sine mora contulit, et omnibus modis desudavit quomodo ipsa ad perpetuitatem decenter potuisset restaurari.” Under the next Bishop, Hugh of Saint-Calais (1146-1153), there was another fire, the account of which is very curious (Vet. An. 349);

“Ignis circa meridiem a vico sancti Vincentii prosiliens,
sibi opposita usque ad muros civitatis et domos episcopales,
tegmenque sacelli beati Juliani adhuc stramineum, cum
fenestris vitreis concremavit et macerias, et in summis
imagines sculptas lapidibus deturbavit.”

The people break open the shrine of Saint Julian in order to save his body, which they carry to the place where the Bishop was. The Bishop seems to have repaired the episcopal buildings before he touched the church, and the details have some interest in the history of domestic architecture (“domum petrinam ex parte sancti Audoëni positam, decenti solariorum interpositu numerosas fenestras habentium cum sua camera continuavit”). Presently we read;

“Beatissimum patrem nostrum Julianum ipso die a lignea
basilica in occidentali membro ecclesiæ intra macerias
facta, post incendium in qua fere triennio requieverat, in
redivivam sollenniter, clero cantibus insultante, populo
congaudente, transtulerunt ecclesiam.”

We do not hear of any more building, but there is a long list (Vet. An. 354) of the ornaments which Bishop Hugh gave to the Church.

Some of the expressions used in these passages are very odd. “Sacellum beati Juliani” is a strange phrase for the cathedral church, and yet the thatched roof and the glass windows must be spoken of a building and not of a mere shrine. It is Saint Julian’s church itself whose roof and windows are spoken of. But the phrase “lignea basilica,” which makes one think of Glastonbury, must not lead us to think that any wooden church of early days was then standing at Le Mans. The whole story seems quite intelligible, without supposing any really architectural work between Hildebert and William of Passavant. The language of the Biographer in describing the fire of 1134 is, as so often happens, very much exaggerated. His own account shows that the walls of the church were left standing. It looks on the whole as if the roof was destroyed in 1134. It was hastily repaired with thatch. It was burned again, and the clerestory (“fenestræ vitreæ”) with it, at the next fire in 1146-1153. The whole church perhaps remained for a while unfit for divine service. Then some wooden structure (“lignea basilica”) was raised within the walls of the nave (“in occidentali membro ecclesiæ intra macerias facta”). Meanwhile Bishop Hugh repaired the choir (“rediviva ecclesia”), seemingly doing nothing to the nave. Bishop William, finding things in this state, rebuilt the clerestory and vaulted it Angevin fashion. So to do required that every alternate column of the nave should be built up into a square pier. This again required a change in the line of the arches, and, according to the fashion just coming in, they were made obtusely pointed. If any one thinks that the superb foliage of the nave capitals must be later than 1158, he may hold that they were cut out afterwards, or he may even hold that Bishop William’s dedication in that year belongs only to the eastern parts――where something was clearly done in his time or thereabouts――and that the whole recasting of the nave came later in his long episcopate.

* * * * *

I am not writing an architectural history of the church of Saint Julian, and I have perhaps, as it is, gone more into detail than my subject called for. I think that any one who has been at Le Mans will forgive me. But there are many architectural points in this wonderful church on which I have not entered. There is much also in the other two minsters of Le Mans which throws much light on the work at Saint Julian’s. I have merely tried in a general way to assign to their most probable dates and founders the different parts of a church which so often meets us in our present history.

NOTE OO. Vol. ii. p. 242.

THE INTERVIEW BETWEEN WILLIAM RUFUS AND HELIAS.

We have two chief accounts of this remarkable interview, one in Orderic, 773 B, the other in William of Malmesbury, iv. 320. As with some of the other anecdotes of William Rufus, Orderic tells the story in its place as part of his regular narrative, while William of Malmesbury brings it in, along with the story of his crossing to Touques, as a mere anecdote, to illustrate the King’s “præclara magnanimitas.” And he tells the tale very distinctly out of its place, for he puts it after the voyage to Touques, that is in the campaign of 1099, whereas it is clear that it happened during the campaign of 1098. One’s feelings are a little shocked when he speaks of “auctor turbarum, Helias _quidam_,” which reminds one of the meeting between the Count’s earlier namesake and another tyrant (“venit Achab in occursum Eliæ. Et cum vidisset eum, ait; Tune es ille, qui conturbas Israël?” 3 Regg. xviii. 16). To be sure he does afterwards speak of the “alta nobilitas” of the Count of Maine.

There is a good deal of difference in the details of the dialogue in the two accounts. That in William of Malmesbury is much shorter, and consists wholly of an exchange of short and sharp sayings between the speakers, which are certainly very characteristic of William Rufus. There is nothing in this version of the offer of Helias to enter the King’s service, or of the counsel given by Robert of Meulan. In Orderic’s version Helias speaks first, with the offer of service, beginning “Rex inclute, mihi, quæso, subveni pro tua insigni strenuitate;” and we read, “Liberalis rex hoc facile annuere decrevit, sed Rodbertus Mellenticus comes pro felle livoris dissuasit.” Then, after speeches on both sides which are not given, comes the defiance of Helias, in these words;

“Libenter, domine rex, tibi servirem, si tibi placeret,
gratiamque apud te invenirem. Amodo mihi, quæso, noli
derogare, si aliud conabor perpetrare. Patienter ferre
nequeo quod meam mihi ablatam hæreditatem perspicio. Ex
violentia prævalente omnis mihi denegatur rectitudo.
Quamobrem nemo miretur si calumniam fecero, si avitum
honorem totis nisibus repetiero.”

All this is represented in William of Malmesbury by two sentences;

“Cui [Heliæ] ante se adducto rex ludibundus, ‘Habeo te,
magister,’ dixit. At vero illius alta nobilitas quæ nesciret
in tanto etiam periculo humilia sapere, humilia loqui;
‘Fortuitu,’ inquit, ‘me cepisti; sed si possem evadere, novi
quid facerem.’”

This is very characteristic of Rufus; is it equally so of Helias? Surely the two speeches given to him by Orderic――allowing for a little improvement in the process of turning them into Latin――much better suit his character and position. And we can hardly fancy that Helias’ offer to enter William’s service, the King’s inclination to accept it, and the evil counsel given by Robert of Meulan――all likewise thoroughly characteristic――are all mere invention.

The last speech of Rufus is much fuller in William of Malmesbury than in Orderic. Orderic simply says, “Cui turgidus rex ait, ‘Vade, et age quidquid mihi potes agere.’” In the other version this becomes;

“Tum Willelmus, præ furore extra se positus, et obuncans
Heliam, ‘Tu,’ inquit, ‘nebulo, tu, quid faceres? Discede,
abi, fuge; concedo tibi ut facias quidquid poteris; et, per
vultum de Luca, nihil, si me viceris, pro hac venia tecum
paciscar.’”

He adds, without any mention of a regular safe-conduct,

“Nec inferius factum verbo fuit, sed continuo dimisit
evadere, miratus potius quam insectatus fugientem.”

* * * * *

I have in the text followed the version of Orderic, venturing only to add the eminently characteristic words with which William of Malmesbury begins and ends. They in no way disturb the main dialogue as given by Orderic. But I must add that William of Malmesbury warns us against supposing that William Rufus, either in this speech or in his speech on the voyage to Touques, knowingly quoted Lucan. His words are curious;

“Quis talia de illiterato homine crederet? Et fortassis erit
aliquis qui, Lucanum legens, falso opinetur Willelmum hæc
exempla de Julio Cæsare mutuatum esse: sed non erat ei
tantum studii vel otii ut literas unquam audiret; immo calor
mentis ingenitus, et conscia virtus, eum talia exprimere
cogebant. Et profecto, si Christianitas nostra pateretur,
sicut olim anima Euforbii transisse dicta est in Pythagoram
Samium, ita possit dici quod anima Julii Cæsaris transierit
in regem Willelmum.”

That is to say, Cæsar and William Rufus, being the same kind of men, uttered the same kind of words. The passage of Lucan referred to is where Domitius (ii. 512) is brought before Cæsar at Corfinium;

“Vive, licet nolis, et nostro munere, dixit,
Cerne diem, victis jam spes bona partibus esto,
Exemplumque mei: vel, si libet, arma retenta,
Et nihil hac venia, si viceris ipse, paciscor.”

That William Rufus should quote Lucan, as his brother Henry could most likely have done, was so very unlikely that William of Malmesbury need hardly have warned us against such a belief. At the same time it does not seem impossible that he might have heard of Cæsar without having read Lucan. But we must remember that whatever William Rufus said was said in French, and not in Latin. Without supposing either that Rufus had read Lucan or that the soul of Cæsar had passed into his body, we may believe that William of Malmesbury or his informant could not resist the temptation of translating his speech into the words of a really appropriate passage of a favourite author; then, when he had done this, the singular apology which I have quoted might seem needful.

* * * * *