Chapter XIX: Preface: Sidenote: A.D. 1066. BATTLE OF HASTINGS (3)

His daughters were five; first, Cecilia, abbess of Caen, who still survives: the second, Constantia, married to Alan Fergant, earl of Brittany, excited the inhabitants, by the severity of her justice, to administer a poisonous potion to her: the third, Adela, the wife of Stephen, earl of Blois, a lady celebrated for secular industry, lately took the veil at Marcigny. The names of the two others have escaped me.[334] One of these, as we have said, was betrothed to Harold, and died ere she was marriageable: the other was affianced, by messengers, to Alphonso, king of Gallicia, but obtained, from God, a virgin death. A hard substance, which proved the frequency of her prayers, was found upon her knees after her decease.

Honouring the memory of his father, by every practicable method, in the latter part of his life, he caused his bones, formerly interred at Nicea, to be taken up by means of a person sent for that purpose, in order to convey them elsewhere; who, successfully returning, stopped in Apulia, on hearing of the death of William, and there buried this illustrious man’s remains. He treated his mother, who, before the death of his father, had married one Herlewin de Conteville, a man of moderate wealth, with singular indulgence as long as she lived. William’s brothers, by this match, were Robert, a man of heavy, sluggish disposition, whom he made earl of Moreton; and Odo, whom, while he was earl, he made bishop of Bayeux; and when king, created him earl of Kent. Being of quicker talents than the other, he was governor of all England, under the king, after the death of William Fitz-Osberne. He had wonderful skill in accumulating treasure; possessed extreme craft in dissembling: so that, though absent, yet, stuffing the scrips of the pilgrims with letters and money, he had nearly purchased the Roman papacy from the citizens. But when, through the rumour of his intended journey, soldiers eagerly flocked to him from all parts of the kingdom, the king, taking offence, threw him into confinement; saying, that he did not seize the bishop of Bayeux, but the earl of Kent. His partisans being intimidated by threats, discovered such quantities of gold, that the heap of precious metal would surpass the belief of the present age; and, at last, many sackfuls of wrought gold were also taken out of the rivers, which he had secretly buried in certain places. When released, at the death of his brother, he joined Robert’s party, as he was averse to his nephew William: but then too matters turning out unfavourably, he was banished England, and went over to his nephew and his bishopric in Normandy. Afterwards, proceeding with him on his enterprize to Jerusalem, he died at Antioch while it was besieged by the Christians.

King William kindly admitted foreigners to his friendship; bestowed honours on them without distinction, and was attentive to almsgiving; he gave many possessions in England to foreign churches, and scarcely did his own munificence, or that of his nobility, leave any monastery unnoticed, more especially in Normandy, so that their poverty was mitigated by the riches of England. Thus, in his time, the monastic flock increased on every side; monasteries arose, ancient in their rule, but modern in building: but here I perceive the muttering of those who say, it would have been better that the old should have been preserved in their original state, than that new ones should have been erected from their plunder.

He was of just stature, extraordinary corpulence, fierce countenance; his forehead bare of hair: of such great strength of arm, that it was often matter of surprise, that no one was able to draw his bow, which himself could bend when his horse was on full gallop: he was majestic, whether sitting or standing, although the protuberance of his belly deformed his royal person: of excellent health, so that he was never confined with any dangerous disorder, except at the last: so given to the pleasures of the chase, that, as I have before said, ejecting the inhabitants, he let a space of many miles grow desolate, that, when at liberty from other avocations, he might there pursue his pleasures. He gave sumptuous and splendid entertainments, at the principal festivals; passing, during the years he could conveniently remain in England, Christmas at Gloucester; Easter at Winchester; Pentecost at Westminster. At these times a royal edict summoned thither all the principal persons of every order, that the ambassadors from foreign nations might admire the splendour of the assemblage, and the costliness of the banquets. Nor was he at any time more affable or indulgent; in order that the visitants might proclaim universally, that his generosity kept pace with his riches. This mode of banqueting was constantly observed by his first successor; the second omitted it.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1087.] WILLIAM’S LOVE OF MONEY.]

His anxiety for money is the only thing for which he can deservedly be blamed.[335] This he sought all opportunities of scraping together, he cared not how; he would say and do some things, and, indeed, almost any thing, unbecoming such great majesty, where the hope of money allured him. I have here no excuse whatever to offer, unless it be, as one has said, that, “Of necessity, he must fear many, whom many fear.” For, through dread of his enemies, he used to drain the country of money, with which he might retard or repel their attacks; very often, as it happens in human affairs, where strength failed, purchasing the forbearance of his enemies with gold. This disgraceful calamity is still prevalent, and every day increases; so that both towns and churches are subjected to contributions: nor is this done with firm-kept faith on the part of the imposers, but whoever offers more, carries the prize; all former agreements being disregarded.

Residing in his latter days in Normandy, when enmity had arisen between him and the king of France, he, for a short period, was confined to the house: Philip, scoffing at this forbearance, is reported to have said, “The king of England is lying-in at Rouen, and keeps his bed, like a woman after her delivery;” jesting on his belly, which he had been reducing by medicine. Cruelly hurt at this sarcasm, he replied, “When I go to mass, after my confinement, I will make him an offering of a hundred thousand candles.”[336] He swore this, “by the Resurrection and Glory of God:” for he was wont purposely to swear such oaths as, by the very form of his mouth, would strike terror into the minds of his hearers.

Not long after, in the end of the month of August, when the corn was ripe on the ground, the clusters on the vines, and the orchards laden with fruit in full abundance, collecting an army, he entered France in a hostile manner, trampling down, and laying every thing waste: nothing could assuage his irritated mind, so determined was he to revenge this injurious taunt at the expense of multitudes. At last he set fire to the city of Mantes, where the church of St. Mary was burnt, together with a recluse who did not think it justifiable to quit her cell even under such an emergency; and the whole property of the citizens was destroyed. Exhilarated by this success, while furiously commanding his people to add fuel to the conflagration, he approached too near the flames, and contracted a disorder from the violence of the fire and the intenseness of the autumnal heat. Some say, that his horse leaping over a dangerous ditch, ruptured his rider, where his belly projected over the front of the saddle. Injured by this accident, he sounded a retreat, and returning to Rouen, as the malady increased he took to his bed. His physicians, when consulted, affirmed, from an inspection of his urine, that death was inevitable. On hearing this, he filled the house with his lamentations, because death had suddenly seized him, before he could effect that reformation of life which he had long since meditated. Recovering his fortitude, however, he performed the duties of a Christian in confession and receiving the communion. Reluctantly, and by compulsion, he bestowed Normandy on Robert; to William he gave England; while Henry received his maternal possessions. He ordered all his prisoners to be released and pardoned: his treasures to be brought forth, and distributed to the churches: he gave also a certain sum of money to repair the church which had been burnt. Thus rightly ordering all things, he departed on the eighth of the ides of September, [Sept. 6,] in the fifty-ninth year of his age: the twenty-second of his reign: the fifty-second of his duchy: and in the year of our Lord 1087. This was the same year, in which Canute, king of Denmark, as we have before related, was killed; and in which the Spanish Saracens raging against the Christians, were shortly compelled to retire to their own territories by Alphonso, king of Gallicia; unwillingly evacuating even the cities they had formerly occupied.

The body, embalmed after royal custom, was brought down the river Seine to Caen, and there consigned to the earth, a large assembly of the clergy attending, but few of the laity. Here might be seen the wretchedness of earthly vicissitude; for that man who was formerly the glory of all Europe, and more powerful than any of his predecessors, could not find a place of everlasting rest, without contention. For a certain knight, to whose patrimony the place pertained, loudly exclaiming at the robbery, forbade his burial: saying, that the ground belonged to himself by paternal right; and that the king had no claim to rest in a place which he had forcibly invaded. Whereupon, at the desire of Henry, the only one of his sons who was present, a hundred pounds of silver[337] were paid to this brawler, and quieted his audacious claim: for at that time, Robert his elder born was in France, carrying on a war against his own country: William had sailed for England, ere the king had well breathed his last; thinking it more advantageous to look to his future benefit, than to be present at the funeral of his father. Moreover, in the dispersion of money, neither slow, nor sparing, he brought forth from its secret hoard, all that treasure which had been accumulated at Winchester, during a reign of so many years: to the monasteries he gave a piece of gold; to each parish church five shillings in silver: to every county a hundred pounds to be divided to each poor man severally. He also very splendidly adorned the tomb of his father, with a large mass of gold and silver and the refulgence of precious stones.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1087.] BERENGAR OF TOURS].

At this time lived Berengar, the heresiarch of Tours, who denied, that the bread and wine, when placed on the altar and consecrated by the priest, were, as the holy church affirms, the real and substantial body of the Lord. Already was the whole of Gaul infected with this his doctrine, disseminated by means of poor scholars, whom he allured by daily hire. On this account pope Leo, of holiest memory, alarmed for the catholic faith, calling a council against him at Vercelli, dispersed the darkness of this misty error, by the effulgence of evangelical testimony. But when, after his death, the poison of heresy again burst forth from the bosoms of some worthless people where it had long been nurtured, Hildebrand, in councils, when he was archdeacon, at Tours, and after, when pope, at Rome, compelled him, after being convicted, to the abjuration of his opinion; which matters, any person desirous of seeing will find recorded in their proper place. Archbishop Lanfranc and Guimund, the most eloquent man of our times, first monk of St. Leofrid, in Normandy, afterwards bishop of Aversa in Apulia, confuted him; but principally and most forcibly the latter. And, indeed, though Berengar disgraced the earlier part of his life by defending certain heresies, yet he came so much to his senses in riper age, that without hesitation, he was by some esteemed a saint; admired for innumerable good qualities, but especially for his humility and almsgiving: showing himself master of his large possessions, by dispersing, not their slave by hoarding and worshipping them. He was so guarded with respect to female beauty, that he would never suffer a woman to appear before him, lest he should seem to enjoy that beauty with his eye, which he did not desire in his heart. He was used neither to despise the poor nor flatter the rich: to live by nature’s rule, “and having food and raiment,” in the language of the apostle, “therewith to be content.” In consequence, Hildebert, bishop of Mans, a first-rate poet, highly commends him; whose words I have purposely inserted, that I may show this celebrated bishop’s regard to his master; and at the same time his opinion will serve for an example to posterity, how he thought a man ought to live: although, perhaps, from the strength of his affection, he may have exceeded the bounds of just commendation.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1087.] PANEGYRIC ON BERENGAR.]

Fame, which the world allows his due,
Shall Berengar, when dead, pursue:
Whom, plac’d on faith’s exalted height
The fifth day ravish’d with fell spite:
Sad was that day, and fatal too,
Where grief and loss united grew,
Wherein the church’s hope and pride,
The law, with its supporter, died.
What sages taught, or poets sung
Bow’d to his wit, and honey’d tongue.
Then holier wisdom’s path he trod,
And fill’d his heart and lips with God.
His soul, his voice, his action prov’d
The great Creator’s praise he lov’d,
So good, so wise, his growing fame
Shall soar above the greatest name:
Whose rank preserv’d his honours gain’d,
Preferr’d the poor to rich: maintain’d
The sternest justice. Wealth’s wide power
Ne’er gave to sloth, or waste, an hour,
Nor could repeated honours, high,
Seduce him from humility;
Who ne’er on money set his mind,
But griev’d he could no object find
Where he might give: and help’d the poor
Till poverty assail’d his door.
His life by nature’s laws to guide,
His mind from vice, his lips from pride,
Still was his care: to false, the true
Prefer, and nothing senseless do:
Evil to none, but good impart,
And banish lucre, hand and heart.
Whose dress was coarse, and temperance just
Awaited appetite’s keen gust:
Was chastity’s perpetual guest,
Nor let rank lust disturb his rest.
When nature form’d him, “See,” said she,
“While others fade, one born for me.”
Ere justice sought her place of rest
On high, he lock’d her in his breast.
A saint from boyhood, whose great name
Surpasses his exceeding fame,
Which, though the wide world it may fill,
Shall never reach his merit still.
Pious and grave, so humble yet,
That envy ne’er could him beset;
For envy weeps, whom still before
She hated, prone now to adore;
First for his life, but now his fate
She moans, laments his frail estate.
Man truly wise and truly blest!
Thy soul and body both at rest,
May I, when dead, abide with you,
And share the self-same portion too.

You may perceive in these verses, that the bishop exceeded the just measure of praise; but eloquence is apt to recommend itself in such wise; thus a brilliant style proceeds in graceful strain; thus

“Bewitching eloquence sheds purple flowers.”

But though Berengar himself changed his sentiments, yet was he unable to convert all whom he had infected throughout the world; “so dreadful a thing it is to seduce others from what is right, either by example or by word; as, perhaps, in consequence, you must bear the sins of others after having atoned for your own.” Fulbert, bishop of Chartres, whom Mary, the mother of our Lord, was seen to cure when sick, by the milk of her breasts, is said to have predicted this; for, when lying in the last extremity, he was visited by many persons, and the house was scarcely large enough to hold the company, he darted his eye through the throng, and endeavoured to drive away Berengar, with all the force he had remaining; protesting that an immense devil stood near him, and attempted to seduce many persons to follow him, by beckoning with his hand, and whispering some enticement. Moreover, Berengar himself, when about to expire on the day of the Epiphany, sadly sighing, at the recollection of the wretched people whom, when a very young man, in the heat of error, he had infected with his opinions, exclaimed, “To-day, in the day of his manifestation, my Lord Jesus Christ will appear to me, either to glorify me, as I hope, for my repentance; or to punish me, as I fear, for the heresy I have propagated on others.”

We indeed believe, that after ecclesiastical benediction, those mysteries are the very body and blood of the Saviour; induced to such an opinion, by the authority of the ancient church, and by many miracles recently manifested. Such as that which St. Gregory exhibited at Rome; and such as Paschasius relates to have taken place in Germany; that the priest Plegild visibly touched the form of a boy, upon the altar, and that after kissing him he partook of him, turned into the similitude of bread, after the custom of the church: which, they relate, Berengar used arrogantly to cavil at, and to say, that “it was the treacherous covenant of a scoundrel, to destroy with his teeth, him whom he had kissed with his mouth.” Such, too, is that concerning the Jewish boy, who by chance running playfully into a church, with a Christian of the same age, saw a child torn to pieces on the altar, and severally divided to the people; which when, with childish innocence, he related as truth to his parents, they placed him in a furnace, where the fire was burning and the door closed: whence, after many hours, he was snatched by the Christians, without injury to his person, clothes, or hair; and being asked how he could escape the devouring flames, he replied, “That beautiful woman whom I saw sitting in the chair, whose son was divided among the people, always stood at my right hand in the furnace, keeping off the threatening flames and fiery volumes with her garments.”

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1087.] THE TOMB OF WALWIN.]

At that time, in a province of Wales, called Ros, was found the sepulchre of Walwin, the noble nephew of Arthur; he reigned, a most renowned knight, in that part of Britain which is still named Walwerth; but was driven from his kingdom by the brother and nephew of Hengist, (of whom I have spoken in my first book,) though not without first making them pay dearly for his expulsion. He deservedly shared, with his uncle, the praise of retarding, for many years, the calamity of his falling country. The sepulchre of Arthur is no where to be seen, whence ancient ballads fable that he is still to come. But the tomb of the other, as I have suggested, was found in the time of king William, on the sea-coast, fourteen feet long: there, as some relate, he was wounded by his enemies, and suffered shipwreck; others say, he was killed by his subjects at a public entertainment. The truth consequently is doubtful; though neither of these men was inferior to the reputation they have acquired.

This, too, was the period in which Germany, for fifty years, bewailed the pitiable, and almost fatal government of Henry, of whom I have spoken in the history of William. He was neither unlearned nor indolent; but so singled out by fate for every person to attack, that whoever took up arms against him seemed, to himself, to be acting for the good of religion. He had two sons, Conrad and Henry: the first, not violating the rights of nature towards his father, having subjugated Italy, died at Arezzo, a city of Tuscany: the other, in his early age, attacking his parent when he was somewhat at rest from external molestation, compelled him to retire from the empire, and when he died shortly after, honoured him with an imperial funeral. He still survives, obstinately adhering to those very sentiments, on account of which he thought himself justified in persecuting his father; for he grants the investiture of churches by the staff and ring; and looks upon the pope as not legally elected without his concurrence; although Calixtus, who now presides over the papal see, has greatly restrained this man’s inordinate ambition: but let the reader wait my farther relation of these matters in their proper order.

Moreover, pope Hildebrand dying, as I have said, and Urban being elected by the cardinals, the emperor persisted in his intention of preferring Guibert, of proclaiming him pope, and of bringing him to Rome, by the expulsion of the other. The army, however, of the marchioness Matilda, a woman, who, forgetful of her sex, and comparable to the ancient Amazons, used to lead forth her hardy troops to battle, espoused the juster cause, as it seemed, by her assistance, in succeeding time, Urban obtaining the papal throne, held quiet possession of it for eleven years. After him Paschal was appointed by the Romans, who held Henry’s concurrence in contempt. Guibert yet burdened the earth with his existence, the only sower of sedition, who never, during his whole life, laid aside his obstinacy, nor conformed to justice; saying, that the decision of the emperor ought to be observed; not that of the assassins, or parchment-mongers of Rome.[338] In consequence, both of them being excommunicated in several councils, they treated the sentence with ridicule. Notwithstanding these circumstances, there were many things praiseworthy in the emperor: he was eloquent, of great abilities, well read, actively charitable; had many good qualities, both of mind and person: was ever prepared for war, insomuch that he was sixty-two times engaged in battle; was equitable in adjusting differences; and when matters were unsuccessful, he would prefer his griefs to heaven, and wait for redress from thence. Many of his enemies perished by untimely deaths.

I have heard a person of the utmost veracity relate, that one of his adversaries, a weak and factious man, while reclining at a banquet, was, on a sudden, so completely surrounded by mice, as to be unable to escape. So great was the number of these little animals, that there could scarcely be imagined more in a whole province. It was in vain, that they were attacked with clubs and fragments of the benches which were at hand: and though they were for a long time assailed by all, yet they wreaked their deputed curse on no one else; pursuing him only with their teeth, and with a kind of dreadful squeaking. And although he was carried out to sea about a javelin’s cast by the servants, yet he could not by these means escape their violence; for immediately so great a multitude of mice took to the water, that you would have sworn the sea was strewed with chaff. But when they began to gnaw the planks of the ship, and the water, rushing through the chinks, threatened inevitable shipwreck, the servants turned the vessel to the shore. The animals, then also swimming close to the ship, landed first. Thus the wretch, set on shore, and soon after entirely gnawed in pieces, satiated the dreadful hunger of the mice.

I deem this the less wonderful, because it is well known, that in Asia, if a leopard bite any person, a party of mice approach directly, to discharge their urine on the wounded man; and that a filthy deluge of their water attends his death; but if, by the care of servants driving them off, the destruction can be avoided during nine days; then medical assistance, if called in, may be of service. My informant had seen a person wounded after this manner, who, despairing of safety on shore, proceeded to sea, and lay at anchor; when immediately more than a thousand mice swam out, wonderful to relate, in the rinds of pomegranates, the insides of which they had eaten; but they were drowned through the loud shouting of the sailors. “For the Creator of all things has made nothing destitute of sagacity; nor any pest without its remedy.”

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1087.] OF MARIANUS SCOTUS.]

During this emperor’s reign flourished Marianus Scotus,[339] first a monk of Fulda, afterwards a recluse at Mentz, who, by renouncing the present life, secured the happiness of that which is to come. During his long continued leisure, he examined the writers on Chronology, and discovered the disagreement of the cycles of Dionysius the Little with the evangelical computation. Wherefore reckoning every year from the beginning of the world, he added twenty-two, which were wanting, to the above mentioned cycles; but he had few, or no followers of his opinion. Wherefore I am often led to wonder, why such unhappiness should attach to the learned of our time, that in so great a number of scholars and students, pale with watching, scarcely one can obtain unqualified commendation for knowledge. So much does ancient custom please, and so little encouragement, though deserved, is given to new discoveries, however consistent with truth. All are anxious to grovel in the old track, and everything modern is contemned; and therefore, as patronage alone can foster genius, when that is withheld, every exertion languishes.

But as I have mentioned the monastery of Fulda, I will relate what a reverend man, Walker, prior of Malvern, whose words if any disbelieve he offends against holiness, told me had happened there. “Not more than fifteen years have elapsed,” said he, “since a contagious disease attacked the abbat of that place, and afterwards destroyed many of the monks. The survivors, at first, began each to fear for himself, and to pray, and give alms more abundantly than usual. In process of time, however, for such is the nature of man, their fear gradually subsiding, they began to omit them; the cellarer more especially: who publicly and absurdly exclaimed, that the stock of provision was not adequate to such a consumption; that he had lately hoped for some reduction of expense from so many funerals, but that his hopes were at an end, if the dead consumed what the living could not. It happened on a certain night, when, from some urgent business, he had deferred going to rest for a long time, that having at length despatched every concern, he went towards the dormitory. And now you shall hear a strange circumstance: he saw in the chapter-house, the abbat, and all who had died that year, sitting in the order they had departed: when affrighted and endeavouring to escape, he was detained by force. Being reproved and corrected, after the monastic manner, with a scourge, he heard the abbat speak precisely to the following effect: that it was foolish to look for advantage by another’s death, when all were subject to one common fate; that it was an impious thing, that a monk who had passed his whole life in the service of the church should be grudged the pittance of a single year after his death; that he himself should die very shortly, but that whatever others might do for him, should redound only to the advantage of those whom he had defrauded; that he might now go and correct, by his example, those whom he had corrupted by his expressions.” He departed, and demonstrated that he had seen nothing imaginary, as well by his recent stripes, as by his death, which shortly followed.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1087.] CANTERBURY AND YORK.]

In the meantime, while employed on other subjects, both matter and inclination have occurred for the relation of what was determined in William’s time, concerning the controversy still existing between the archbishops of Canterbury and York. And that posterity may be fully informed of this business, I will subjoin the opinions of the ancient fathers.

_Pope Gregory to Augustine, first archbishop of Canterbury._

“Let your jurisdiction not only extend over the bishops you shall have ordained, or such as have been ordained by the bishop of York, but also over all the priests of Britain, by the authority of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

_Boniface to Justus, archbishop of Canterbury._

“Far be it from every Christian, that anything concerning the city of Canterbury be diminished or changed, in present or future times, which was appointed by our predecessor pope Gregory, however human circumstances may be changed: but more especially, by the authority of St. Peter the prince of apostles, we command and ordain, that the city of Canterbury shall ever hereafter be esteemed the metropolitan see of all Britain; and we decree and appoint, immutably, that all the provinces of the kingdom of England shall be subject to the metropolitan church of the aforesaid see. And if any one attempt to injure this church, which is more especially under the power and protection of the holy Roman church, or to lessen the jurisdiction conceded to it, may God expunge him from the book of life; and let him know, that he is bound by the sentence of a curse.”

_Alexander to William, king of England._

“The cause of Alric, formerly called bishop of Chichester, we have entrusted to our brother bishop, Lanfranc, to be by him diligently reconsidered and determined. We have also commended to him the labour of deciding the dispute which has arisen between the archbishop of York, and the bishop of Dorchester, on matters belonging to their dioceses; strictly ordering him to examine this cause most diligently and bring it to a just termination. Besides, we have so fully committed to him the authority of our personal and pontifical power in considering and settling causes, that whatever he shall, according to justice, have determined, shall be regarded as firm and indissoluble hereafter, as though it had been adjudged in our presence.”

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1072] CANTERBURY AND YORK.]

“In the year of our Lord Jesus Christ’s incarnation 1072, of the pontificate of pope Alexander the eleventh, and of the reign of William, glorious king of England, and duke of Normandy, the sixth; by the command of the said pope Alexander, and permission of the same king, in presence of himself, his bishops, and abbats, the question was agitated concerning the primacy which Lanfranc,[340] archbishop of Canterbury, claimed in right of his church, over that of York; and concerning the ordination of certain bishops, of which it was not clearly evident, to whom they especially pertained; and at length, after some time it was proved and shown by the distinct authority of various writings, that the church of York ought to be subject to that of Canterbury, and to be obedient to the appointments of its archbishop, as primate of all England, in all such matters as pertained to the Christian religion. But the homage of the bishop of Durham, that is of Lindisfarne, and of all the countries beyond the limits of the bishop of Lichfield, and the great river Humber, to the farthest boundaries of Scotland, and whatever on this side of the aforesaid river justly pertains to the diocese of the church of York, the metropolitan of Canterbury allowed for ever to belong to the archbishop of York and his successors: in such sort, that if the archbishop of Canterbury chose to call a council, wherever he deemed fit, the archbishop of York was bound to be present at his command, with all his suffragan bishops, and be obedient to his canonical injunctions. And Lanfranc the archbishop proved from the ancient custom of his predecessors, that the archbishop of York was bound to make profession, even with an oath, to the archbishop of Canterbury; but through regard to the king, he dispensed with the oath from Thomas, archbishop of York; and received his written profession only: but not forming a precedent for his successors who might choose to exact the oath, together with the profession, from Thomas’s successors. If the archbishop of Canterbury should die, the archbishop of York shall come to Canterbury; and, with the other bishops of the church aforesaid, duly consecrate the person elect as his lawful primate. But if the archbishop of York shall die, his successor, accepting the gift of the archbishopric from the king, shall come to Canterbury, or where the archbishop of Canterbury shall appoint, and shall from him receive canonical ordination. To this ordinance consented the king aforesaid, and the archbishops, Lanfranc of Canterbury, and Thomas of York; and Hubert subdeacon of the holy Roman church, and legate of the aforesaid pope Alexander; and the other bishops and abbats present. This cause was first agitated at the festival of Easter in the city of Winchester, in the royal chapel, situated in the castle; afterwards in the royal town called Windsor, where it received its termination, in the presence of the king, the bishops, and abbats of different orders, who were assembled at the king’s court on the festival of Pentecost.

“The signature of William the king: the signature of Matilda the queen.

“I Hubert, subdeacon of the holy Roman church, and legate from pope Alexander, have signed.

“I Lanfranc, archbishop of Canterbury, have signed.

“I Thomas, archbishop of York, have signed.

“I William, bishop of London, have assented.

“I Herman, bishop of Sherborne, have signed.

“I Wulstan, bishop of Worcester, have signed.

“I Walter, bishop of Hereford, have assented.

“I Giso, bishop of Wells, have assented.

“I Remigius, bishop of Dorchester, have signed.

“I Walkelin, bishop of Winchester, have signed.

“I Herefast, bishop of Helmham, have signed.

“I Stigand, bishop of Chichester, have assented.

“I Siward, bishop of Rochester, have assented.

“I Osberne, bishop of Exeter, have assented.

“I Odo, bishop of Bayeux and earl of Kent, have assented.

“I Gosfrith, bishop of Coutances and one of the nobles of England, have assented.

“I Scotland, abbat of St. Augustine’s monastery, have assented.

“I Thurstan, abbat of the monastery which is situated in the isle of Ely, have assented.

“I Ailnoth, abbat of Glastonbury, have assented.

“I Elfwin, abbat of the monastery of Ramsey, have assented.

“I Wulnoth, abbat of Chertsey, have assented.

“I Ailwyn, abbat of Evesham, have assented.

“I Frederic, abbat of St. Alban’s, have assented.

“I Goffrid, abbat of the monastery of St. Peter, near London, have assented.

“I Baldwin, abbat of St. Edmund’s monastery, have assented.

“I Turald, abbat of Burgh, have assented.

“I Adelelm, abbat of Abingdon, have assented.

“I Ruald, abbat of the New minster at Winchester, have assented.

“It becomes every Christian to be subject to Christian laws, and by no means to run counter to those things which have been wholesomely enacted by the holy fathers. For hence arise strifes, dissensions, envyings, contentions, and other things, which plunge the lovers of them into eternal punishment. And the more exalted the rank of any person is, so much the more exact should be his obedience to divine commands: wherefore I Thomas, now ordained metropolitan bishop of the church of York, hearing and knowing your authorities, make unlimited profession of canonical obedience to you, Lanfranc, archbishop of Canterbury, and your successors; and I promise to observe whatever shall be canonically enjoined me, either by you or them. Of this matter I was doubtful, while I was yet about to be ordained by you: wherefore I promised obedience unconditionally to you, but conditionally to your successors.”

The archbishop of Canterbury, as I remember to have observed in my first book, originally had subject to him, these bishops: London, Winchester, Rochester, Sherborne, Worcester, Hereford, Lichfield, Selsey, Leicester, Helmham, Sidnacester, Dunwich; in the time of king Edward the Elder were added, Cornwall, Crediton, Wells in West Saxony, and Dorchester in Mercia, as I noticed in my second book.

[Sidenote: [A.D. 1072.] PRIVILEGES OF THE ARCHBISHOP OF YORK.]

The archbishop of York had all the bishops on the farther side of the Humber subject to him, as Ripon, Hexham, Lindisfarne, Candida Casa, which is now called Whitherne; and all the bishops of Scotland and the Orkneys; as the archbishop of Canterbury had those of Ireland and Wales. The bishoprics of Ripon and Hexham have long since perished by hostile ravages; Leicester, Sidnacester, and Dunwich, by means that I cannot account for; and, in the time of king Edward the Simple, Cornwall and Crediton were united, and the bishopric translated to Exeter. In king William’s time, at this council, it was determined that, according to the decrees of the canons, the bishops should quit the villages, and fix their abode in the cities of their dioceses; Lichfield therefore migrated to Chester, which was anciently called the City of Legions; Selsey to Chichester; Helmham first to Thetford, and now, by bishop Herbert, to Norwich; Sherborne to Salisbury; Dorchester to Lincoln. For Lindisfarne had long before passed to Durham, and lately Wells to Bath.

In this assembly Lanfranc, who was yet uninstructed in English matters, inquired of the elder bishops, what was the order of sitting in council, as originally appointed. They, alleging the difficulty of the question, deferred their answer till the next day; when, carefully calling circumstances to mind, they asserted that they had seen the arrangement as follows: that the archbishop of Canterbury, presiding at the council, should have, on the right hand, the archbishop of York, and next him the bishop of Winchester; and on his left, the bishop of London. But should it ever happen, through necessity, that the primate of Canterbury should be absent, or should he be dead, the archbishop of York, presiding at the council, should have the bishops of London on his right hand, and of Winchester on his left; and the rest should take their seats according to the time of their ordination.

At that time, too, the claim of the archbishop of York on the see of Worcester and Dorchester was decided and set at rest. For he said that they ought to be subject to his jurisdiction; which, after having pondered for some time in secret, when he proceeded to Rome with Lanfranc to receive their palls from the pope, he brought publicly before the Roman court. Lanfranc, though for the most part unmoved by injury, could not help betraying, by his countenance, his emotion at such a wanton and unheard-of attack, though he for some time refrained from speaking. But pope Alexander, who felt much for Lanfranc’s distress, for he had even condescendingly risen from his seat when he approached, professing that he paid him this mark of respect, not from honour to the archbishop but regard to his learning, removed from himself the unpleasant task of deciding, and referred the adjudication of it to an English council. In consequence, as I have related, the matter, after deep investigation, came to this termination in the present council; that, as these bishops were on this side of the Humber, they should belong to Canterbury, but all beyond that river to York.

Here the pious simplicity of St. Wulstan, bishop of Worcester, and his noble confidence in God, demand praise and approbation. For when called in question as well concerning this business, as on his slender attainments in learning, he had retired to consider more carefully what answer he should make, his mind undisturbed by tumult: “Believe me,” said he, “we have not yet sung the service for the sixth hour: let us sing the service therefore.” And, on his companions suggesting the necessity of first expediting the business they had met upon; that there was ample time for singing, and that the king and the nobility would laugh at them, if they heard of it: “Truly,” said he, “let us first do our duty towards God, and afterwards settle the disputes of men.” Having sung the service, he directly proceeded towards the council-chamber, without devising any subterfuge, or any attempt to disguise the truth. To his dependents, who were desirous of withholding him, and who could not be persuaded but their cause was in danger, he said, “Know for certain, that I here visibly perceive those holy archbishops, Dunstan of Canterbury, and Oswald of York; who, defending me this day with their prayers, will darken the understandings of my gainsayers.” Then giving his benediction to a monk, a man of little eloquence, but somewhat acquainted with the Norman language, on summing up his cause, he obtained that he, who was before thought unworthy of the management of his own diocese, should be humbly entreated by the archbishop of York, to condescend to visit those parts of his province, which himself, through dread of enemies, or ignorance of the language, had refrained from approaching. But I will no longer torture the patience of my readers, who perhaps do not regard this matter with pleasure, as they are in expectation of the history of William’s successors; though, if I am not too partial to myself, a variety of anecdote can be displeasing to no one, unless he be morose enough to rival the superciliousness of Cato. But whoever is so inclined, will find such other matters in the fourth and fifth book, for here the third shall terminate.[341]