# Chronicle of the Kings of England/Book 2/Chapter 13

CHAP. XIII.
Of St. Edward, son of king Ethelred. [a.d. 1042—1066.]
In the year of our Lord's incarnation 1042, St. Edward, the son of Ethelred, assumed the sovereignty, and held it not quite twenty-four years; he was a man from the simplicity of his manners little calculated to govern; but devoted to God, and in consequence directed by him. For while he continued to reign, there arose no popular commotions, which were not immediately quelled; no foreign war; all was calm and peaceable both at home and abroad; which is the more an object of wonder, because he conducted himself so mildly, that he would not even utter a word of reproach to the meanest person. For when he had once gone out to hunt, and a countryman had overturned the standings by which the deer are driven into the toils, struck with noble indignation he exclaimed, "By God and his mother, I will serve you just such a turn, if ever it come in my way." Here was a noble mind, who forgot that he was a king, under such circumstances, and could not think himself allowed to injure a man even of the lowest condition. In the meantime, the regard ​his subjects entertained for him was extreme, as was also the fear of foreigners; for God assisted his simplicity, that he might be feared, for he knew not how to be angry. But however indolent or unassuming himself might be esteemed, he had nobles capable of elevating him to the highest pitch: for instance, Siward, earl of the Northumbrians; who, at his command, engaging with Macbeth, the Scottish king, deprived him both of life and of his kingdom, and placed on the throne Malcolm, who was the son of the king of Cumbria: again, Leofric, of Hereford; he, with liberal regard, defended him against the enmity of Godwin, who trusting to the consciousness of his own merits, paid little reverence to the king. Leofric and his wife Godifa, generous in their deeds towards God, built many monasteries, as, Coventry, St. Mary's at Stow, Wenlock, Leon, and some others; to the rest he gave ornaments and estates; to Coventry he consigned his body, with a very large donation of gold and silver. Harold too, of the West Saxons, the son of Godwin; who by his abilities destroyed two brothers, kings of the Welsh, Rees and Griffin; and reduced all that barbarous country to the state of a province under fealty to the king. Nevertheless, there were some things which obscured the glory of Edward's times: the monasteries were deprived of their monks; false sentences were passed by depraved men; his mother's property, at his command, was almost entirely taken from her. But the injustice of these transactions was extenuated by his favourers in the following manner: the ruin of the monasteries, and the iniquity of the judges, are said to have taken place without his knowledge, through the insolence of Godwin and his sons, who used to laugh at the easiness of the king: but afterwards, on being apprised of this, he severely avenged it by their banishment: his mother had for a long time mocked at the needy state of her son, nor ever assisted him; transferring her hereditary hatred of the father to the child; for she had both loved Canute more when living, and more commended him when dead: besides, accumulating money by every method, she had hoarded it, regardless of the poor, to whom she would give nothing, for fear of diminishing her heap. Wherefore that which had ​been so unjustly gathered together, was not improperly taken away, that it might be of service to the poor, and replenish the king's exchequer. Though much credit is to be attached to those who relate these circumstances, yet I find her to have been a religiously-disposed woman, and to have expended her property on ornaments for the church of Winchester, and probably upon others. But to return: Edward receiving the mournful intelligence of the death of Hardecanute, was lost in uncertainty what to do, or whither to betake himself. While he was revolving many things in his mind, it occurred as the better plan to submit his situation to the opinion of Godwin. To Godwin therefore he sent messengers, requesting, that he might in security have a conference with him. Godwin, though for a long time hesitating and reflecting, at length assented, and when Edward came to him and endeavoured to fall at his feet, he raised him up; and when relating the death of Hardecanute, and begging his assistance to effect his return to Normandy, Godwin made him the greatest promises. He said, it was better for him to live with credit in power, than to die ingloriously in exile: that he was the son of Ethelred, the grandson of Edgar: that the kingdom was his due: that he was come to mature age, disciplined by difficulties, conversant in the art of well-governing from his years, and knowing, from his former poverty, how to feel for the miseries of the people: if he thought fit to rely on him, there could be no obstacle; for his authority so preponderated in England, that wherever he inclined, there fortune was sure to favour: if he assisted him, none would dare to murmur; and just so was the contrary side of the question: let him then only covenant a firm friendship with himself; undiminished honours for his sons, and a marriage with his daughter, and he who was now shipwrecked almost of life and hope, and imploring the assistance of another, should shortly see himself a king.
There was nothing which Edward would not promise, from the exigency of the moment: so, pledging fidelity on both sides, he confirmed by oath every thing which was demanded. Soon after convening an assembly at Gillingham, Godwin, ​unfolding his reasons, caused him to be received as king, and homage was paid to him by all. He was a man of ready wit, and spoke fluently in the vernacular tongue; powerful in speech, powerful in bringing over the people to whatever he desired. Some yielded to his authority; some were influenced by presents; others admitted the right of Edward; and the few who resisted in defiance of justice and equity, were carefully marked, and afterwards driven out of England.
Edward was crowned with great pomp at Winchester, on Easter-day, and was instructed by Eadsine, the archbishop, in the sacred duties of governing. This, at the time, he treasured up with readiness in his memory, and afterwards displayed in the holiness of his conduct. The above-mentioned Eadsine, in the following year, falling into an incurable disease, appointed as his successor Siward, abbat of Abingdon; communicating his design only to the king and the earl, lest any improper person should aspire to so great an eminence, either by solicitation or by purchase. Shortly after the king took Edgitha. the daughter of Godwin, to wife; a woman whose bosom was the school of every liberal art, though little skilled in earthly matters: on seeing her, if you were amazed at her erudition, you must absolutely languish for the purity of her mind, and the beauty of her person. Both in her husband's life-time, and afterwards, she was not entirely free from suspicion of dishonour; but when dying, in the time of king William, she voluntarily satisfied the by-standers of her unimpaired chastity, by an oath. When she became his wife, the king acted towards her so delicately, that he neither removed her from his bed, nor knew her after the manner of men. I have not been able to discover, whether he acted thus from dislike to her family, which he prudently dissembled from the exigency of the times, or out of pure regard to chastity: yet it is most notoriously affirmed, that he never violated his purity by connexion with any woman.
But since I have gotten thus far, I wish to admonish my reader, that the track of my history is here but dubious, ​because the truth of the facts hangs in suspense. It is to be observed, that the king had sent for several Normans, who had formerly slightly ministered to his wants when in exile. Among these was Robert, whom, from being a monk of Jumièges, he had appointed bishop of London, and afterwards archbishop of Canterbury. The English of our times vilify this person, together with the rest, as being the impeacher of Godwin and his sons; the sower of discord; the purchaser of the archbishopric: they say too, that Godwin and his sons were men of liberal mind, the stedfast promoters and defenders of the government of Edward; and that it was not to be wondered at, if they were hurt at seeing men of yesterday, and strangers, preferred to themselves: still, that they never uttered even a harsh word against the king, whom they had formerly exalted to the throne. On the opposite hand the Normans thus defended themselves: they allege, that both himself and his sons acted with the greatest want of respect, as well as fidelity, to the king and his party; aiming at equal sovereignty with him; often ridiculing his simplicity; often hurling the shafts of their wit against him: that the Normans could not endure this, but endeavoured to weaken their power as much as possible; and that God manifested, at last, with what kind of purity Godwin had served him. For, after his piratical ravages, of which we shall speak hereafter, when he had been reinstated in his original favour, and was sitting with the king at table, the conversation turning on Alfred, the king's brother, "I perceive," said he, "O king, that on every recollection of your brother, you regard me with angry countenance; but God forbid that I should swallow this morsel, if I am conscious of any thing which might tend, either to his danger or your disadvantage." On saying this, he was choked with the piece he had put into his mouth, and closed his eyes in death: being dragged from under the table by Harold his son, who stood near the king, he was buried in the cathedral of Winchester.
On account of these feuds, as I have observed, my narrative labours under difficulties, for I cannot precisely ascertain the truth, by reason either of the natural dislike of these nations for each other, or because the English disdainfully bear with a superior, and the Normans cannot endure an ​equal. In the following book, however, when the opportunity occurs for relating the arrival of the Normans in England, I shall proceed to speak of their habits; at present I shall glance, with all possible truth, at the grudge of the king against Godwin and his sons.
Eustace, earl of Boulogne, the father of Godfrey and Baldwin, who, in our times, were kings of Jerusalem, had married the king's sister, Goda, who had borne a son, named Ralph, to her former husband, Walter of Mantes. This son, at that time earl of Hereford, was both indolent and cowardly; he had been beaten in battle by the Welsh, and left his county and the city, together with the bishop, to be consumed with fire by the enemy; the disgrace of which transaction was wiped off by the valour of Harold, who arrived opportunely. Eustace, therefore, crossing the channel, from Whitsand to Dover, went to king Edward on some unknown business. When the conference was over, and he had obtained his request, he was returning through Canterbury, where one of his harbingers, dealing too fiercely with a citizen, and demanding quarters with blows, rather than entreaty or remuneration, irritated him to such a degree, that he put him to death. Eustace, on being informed of the fact, proceeded with all his retinue to revenge the murder of his servant, and killed the perpetrator of the crime, together with eighteen others: but the citizens flying to arms, he lost twenty-one of his people, and had multitudes wounded; himself and one more with difficulty making their escape during the confusion. Thence returning to court and procuring a secret audience, he made the most of his own story, and excited the anger of the king against the English. Godwin, being summoned by messengers, arrived at the palace. ​When the business was related, and the king was dwelling more particularly on the insolence of the citizens of Canterbury, this intelligent man perceived that sentence ought not to be pronounced, since the allegations had only been heard on one side of the question. In consequence, though the king ordered him directly to proceed with an army into Kent, to take signal vengeance on the people of Canterbury, still he refused: both because he saw with displeasure, that all foreigners were gaining fast upon the favour of the king; and because he was desirous of evincing his regard to his countrymen. Besides, his opinion was more accordant, as it should seem, with equity, which was, that the principal people of that town should be mildly summoned to the king's court, on account of the tumult; if they could exculpate themselves, they should depart unhurt; but if they could not, they must make atonement, either by money, or by corporal punishment, to the king, whose peace they had broken, and to the earl, whom they had injured: moreover, that it appeared unjust to pass sentence on those people unheard, who had a more especial right to protection. After this the conference broke up; Godwin paying little attention to the indignation of the king, as merelymomentary. In consequence of this, the nobility of the whole kingdom were commanded to meet at Gloucester, that the business might there be canvassed in full assembly. Thither came those, at that time, most renowned Northumbrian earls, Siward and Leofric, and all the nobility of England. Godwin and his sons alone, who knew that they were suspected, not deeming it prudent to be present unarmed, halted with a strong force at Beverstone, giving out that they had assembled an army to restrain the Welsh, who, meditating independence on the king, had fortified a town in the county of Hereford, where Sweyn, one of the sons of Godwin, was at that time in command. The Welsh, however, who had come beforehand to the conference, had accused them of a conspiracy, and rendered them odious to the whole court; so that a rumour prevailed, that the king's army would attack them in that very place. Godwin, hearing this, sounded the alarm to his party; told them that they should not purposely withstand their sovereign lord; but if it came to hostilities, they should not retreat without avenging themselves. And, if better ​ounsels had not intervened, a dreadful scene of misery, and a worse than civil war, would have ensued. Some small share of tranquillity, however, being restored, it was ordered that the council should be again assembled at London; and that Svveyn, the son of Godwin, should appease the king's anger by withdrawing himself: that Godwin and Harold should come as speedily as possible to the council, with this condition: that they should be unarmed, bring with them only twelve men, and deliver up to the king the command of the troops which they had throughout England. This on the other hand they refused; observing, that they could not go to a party-meeting without sureties and pledges; that they would obey their lord in the surrender of the soldiers, as well as in every thing else, except risking their lives and reputation: should they come unarmed, the loss of life might be apprehended; if attended with few followers, it would detract from their glory. The king had made up his mind too firmly, to listen to the entreaties of those who interceded with him; wherefore an edict was published, that they should depart from England within five days. Godwin and Sweyn retired to Flanders, and Harold to Ireland. His earldom was given to Elgar, the son of Leofric, a man of active habits; who, receiving, governed it with ability, and readily restored it to him on his return; and afterwards, on the death of Godwin, when Harold had obtained the dukedom of his father, he boldly reclaimed it, though, by the accusation of his enemies, he was banished for a time. All the property of the queen was seized, and herself delivered into the custody of the king's sister at Wherwell, lest she alone should be void of care, whilst all her relations were sighing for their country.
The following year, the exiles, each emerging from his station, were now cruising the British sea, infesting the coast with piracy, and carrying off rich booty from the substance of their countrymen. Against these, on the king's part, more than sixty sail lay at anchor. Earls Odo and Ralph, relations of the king, were commanders of the fleet. Nor did this emergency find Edward himself inactive; since he would pass the night on ship-board, and watch the sallies of the plunderers; diligently compensating, by the wisdom of his counsel, for that personal service which age and in​firmity denied. But when they had approached each other, and the conflict was on the eve of commencing, a very thick mist arose, which in a moment obscured the sight of the opponents, and repressed the pitiable audacity of men. At last Godwin and his companions were driven, by the impetuosity of the wind, to the port they had left; and not long after returning to their own country with pacific dispositions, they found the king at London, and were received by him on soliciting pardon. The old man, skilled in leading the minds of his audience by his reputation and his eloquence, dexterously exculpated himself from every thing laid to his charge; and in a short time prevailed so far, as to recover his honours, undiminished, for himself and for his children; to drive all the Normans, branded with ignominy, from England; and to get sentence passed on Robert, the archbishop, and his accomplices, for disturbing the order of the kingdom and stimulating the royal mind against his subjects. But he, not waiting for violent measures, had fled of his own accord while the peace was in agitation, and proceeding to Rome, and appealing to the apostolical see on his case, as he was returning through Jumièges, he died there, and was buried in the church of St. Mary, which he chiefly had built at vast expense. While he was yet living, Stigand, who was bishop of Winchester, forthwith invaded the archbishopric of Canterbury: a prelate of notorious ambition, who sought after honours too keenly, and who, through desire of a higher dignity, deserting the bishopric of the South Saxons, had occupied Winchester, which he held with the archbishopric. For this reason he was never honoured with the pall by the papal see, except that one Benedict, the usurper, as it were, of the papacy, sent him one; either corrupted by money to grant a thing of this kind, or else because bad people are pleased to gratify others of the same description. But he, through the zeal of the faithful, being expelled by Nicholas, who legally assumed the papacy from being bishop of Florence, laid aside the title he so little deserved. Stigand, moreover, in the time of king William, degraded by the Roman cardinals and condemned to perpetual imprisonment, could not fill up the measure of his insatiable avidity even in death. For on his decease, a small key was discovered among his secret recesses, which on being applied to ​the lock of a chamber-cabinet, gave evidence of papers, describing immense treasures, and in which were noted both the quality and the quantity of the precious metals which this greedy pilferer had hidden on all his estates: but of this hereafter: I shall now complete the history of Godwin which I had begun.
When he was a young man he had Canute's sister to wife, by whom he had a son, who in his early youth, while proudly curveting on a horse which his grandfather had given him, was carried into the Thames, and perished in the stream: his mother, too, paid the penalty of her cruelty; being killed by a stroke of lightning. For it is reported, that she was in the habit of purchasing companies of slaves in England, and sending them into Denmark; more especially girls, whose beauty and age rendered them more valuable, that she might accumulate money by this horrid traffic. After her death, he married another wife, whose descent I have not been able to trace; by her he had Harold, Sweyn, Wulnod, Tosty, Girth, and Leofwine. Harold became king for a few months after Edward; and being overcome by William at Hastings, there lost his life and kingdom, together with his two younger brothers. Wulnod, given by his father as an hostage, was sent over to Normandy by king Edward, where he remained all that king's time in inextricable captivity; and being sent back into England during William's reign, grew old in confinement at Salisbury: Sweyn being of an obstinate disposition, and faithless to the king, frequently revolted from his father, and his brother Harold, and turning pirate, tarnished the virtues of his forefathers, by his depredations on the coast: at last struck with remorse for the murder of Bruno, a relation, or as some say, his brother, he went to Jerusalem, and returning thence was surprised by the Saracens, and put to death: Tosty, after the death of Siward, was preferred to the earldom of Northumbria by king Ed​ward, and presided over that province for nearly ten years; at the end of which he impelled the Northumbrians to rebel, by the asperity of his manners. For finding him unattended, they drove him from the district; not deeming it proper to kill him, from respect to his dignity: but they put to death his attendants both English and Danes, appropriating to their own use, his horses, his arms, and his effects. As soon as this rumour, and the distracted state of the country reached the king, Harold set forward to avenge the outrage. The Northumbrians, though not inferior in point of numbers, yet preferring peace, excused themselves to him for the transaction; averring, that they were a people free-born, and freely educated, and unable to put up with the cruelty of any prince; that they had been taught by their ancestors either to be free, or to die; did the king wish them to be obedient, he should appoint Morcar, the son of Elgar, to preside over them, who would experience how cheerfully they could obey, provided they were treated with gentleness. On hearing this, Harold, who regarded the quiet of the country more than the advantage of his brother, recalled his army, and, after waiting on the king, settled the earldom on Morcar. Tosty, enraged against every one, retired with his wife and children to Flanders, and continued there till the death of Edward: but this I shall delay mentioning, while I record what, as I have learned from ancient men, happened in his time at Rome.
Pope Gregory the Sixth, first called Gratian, was a man of equal piety and strictness. He found the power of the Roman pontificate so reduced by the negligence of his predecessors, that, with the exception of a few neighbouring towns, and the offerings of the faithful, he had scarcely anything whereon to subsist. The cities and possessions at a distance, which were the property of the church, were forcibly seized by plunderers; the public roads and highways throughout all Italy were thronged with robbers to such a degree, that no pilgrim could pass in safety unless strongly ​guarded. Swarms of thieves beset every path, nor could the traveller devise any method of escaping them. Their rage was equally bent against the poor and the rich; entreaty or resistance were alike unavailing. The journey to Rome was discontinued by every nation, as each had much rather contribute his money to the churches in his own country, than feed a set of plunderers with the produce of his labours. And what was the state of that city which of old was the only dwelling-place of holiness? Why there an abandoned set of knaves and assassins thronged the very forum. If any one by stratagem eluded the people who lay in wait upon the road, from a desire even at the peril of destruction to see the church of the apostle; yet then, encountering these robbers, he was never able to return home without the loss either of property or of life. Even over the very bodies of the holy apostles and martyrs, even on the sacred altars were swords unsheathed, and the offerings of pilgrims, ere well laid out of their hands, were snatched away and consumed in drunkenness and fornication. By such evils was the papacy of Gregory beset. At first he began to deal gently with his subjects; and, as became a pontiff, rather by love than by terror; he repressed the delinquents more by words than by blows; he entreated the townsmen to abstain from the molestation of pilgrims, and the plunder of sacred offerings. The one, he said, was contrary to nature, that the man who breathed the common air could not enjoy the common peace; that Christians surely ought to have liberty of proceeding whither they pleased among Christians, since they were all of the same household, all united by the tie of the same blood, redeemed by the same price: the other, he said, was contrary to the command of God, who had ordained, that "they who served at the altar, should live by the altar;" moreover, that "the house of God ought to be the house of prayer, not a den of thieves," nor an assembly of gladiators; that they should allow the offerings to go to the use of the priests, or the support of the poor; that he would provide for those persons whom want had compelled to plunder, by giving them some honest employment to procure their subsistence; that such as were instigated by avaricious desire, should desist immediately for the love of God and the credit of the world. He invited, by mandates ​and epistles, those who had invaded the patrimony of the church, to restore what did not belong to them, or else to prove in the Roman senate, that they held it justly; if they would do neither, they must be told that they were no longer members of the church, since they opposed St. Peter, the head of the church, and his vicar. Perpetually haranguing to this effect, and little or nothing profiting by it, he endeavoured to cure the inveterate disorder by having recourse to harsher remedies. He then separated from the body of the church, by the brand of excommunication, all who were guilty of such practices, and even those who associated or conversed with the delinquents. Though he acted strictly according to his duty, yet his diligence in this business had well nigh proved his destruction; for as one says, "He who accuses a mocker, makes himself an enemy," so the abandoned crew began to kick against this gentle admonition; to utter their threats aloud; to clash their arms around the walls of the city, so as nearly even to kill the pope. Finding it now absolutely necessary to cut short the evil, he procured arms and horses from every side, and equipped troops of horse and foot. Taking possession, in the first place, of the church of St. Peter, he either killed or put to flight the plunderers of the oblations. As fortune appeared to favour his designs, he proceeded farther; and despatching all who dared resist, restored to their original jurisdiction all the estates and towns which had been for a considerable time lost. In this manner, peace, which had been long driven into banishment by the negligence of many, was restored to the country by the exertions of an individual. Pilgrims now began securely to travel on the public ways, which had been deserted; they feasted their eyes with pleasure on the ancient wonders within the city; and, having made their offerings, they returned home with songs of joy. In the meantime the common people of Rome, who had been accustomed to live by theft, began to call him sanguinary, and not worthy to offer sacrifice to God, since he was stained by so many murders; and, as it generally happens that the contagion of slander spreads universally, even the cardinals themselves joined in the sentiments of the people; so that, when this holy man was confined by the sickness which proved his death, they, after consulting among ​themselves, with matchless insolence recommended him not to think of ordering himself to be buried in the church of St. Peter with the rest of the popes, since he had polluted his office by being accessory to the death of so many men. Resuming spirit, however, and sternly regarding them, he addressed them in the following manner:
"If you possessed either a single spark of human reason, or of the knowledge of divine truth, you would hardly have approached your pontiff with so inconsiderate an address; for, throughout my whole life, I have dissipated my own patrimony for your advantage, and at last have sacrificed the applause of the world for your rescue. If any other persons were to allege what you urge in defamation of me, it would become you to silence them by explaining away the false opinions of fools. For whom, I pray you, have I laid up treasure? For myself perhaps? and yet I already possessed the treasures of my predecessors, which were enough for any man's covetousness. To whom have I restored safety and liberty? You will reply, to myself perhaps? And yet I was adored by the people, and did, without restraint, whatever I pleased; entire orations teemed with my praises; every day resounded my applause. These praises and these applauses have been lost to me, through my concern for your poverty. Towards you I turned my thoughts; and found that I must adopt severer measures. A sacrilegious robber fattened on the produce of your property, while your subsistence was only from day to day. He, from the offerings belonging to you, was clad in costly silk; while you, in mean and tattered clothing, absolutely grieved my sight. In consequence, when I could endure this no longer, I acted with hostility to others, that I might get credit for the clergy, though at the loss of the citizens. However, I now find I have lavished my favours on the ungrateful; for you publicly proclaim what others mutter only in secret. I approve, indeed, your freedom, but I look in vain for your affection. A dying parent is persecuted by his sons concerning his burial. Will you deny me the house common to all living? The harlot, the usurer, the robber, are not forbidden an entrance to the church, and do you refuse it to the pope? What signifies it whether the dead or the living enter the sanctuary, except it be, that the living is subject to many temptations, ​so that he cannot be free from spot even in the church; often finding matter of sin in the very place where he had come to wash it away; whereas the dead knows not how, nay, he who wants only his last sad office, has not the power to sin. What savage barbarity then is it to exclude from the house of God him in whom both the inclination and the power of sinning have ceased! Repent, then, my sons, of your precipitate boldness, if perchance God may forgive you this crime, for you have spoken both foolishly and bitterly even to this present hour. But that you may not suppose me to rest merely on my own authority, listen to reason. Every act of man ought to be considered according to the intention of his heart, that the examination of the deed may proceed to that point whence the design originated; I am deceived if the Truth does not say the same; 'If thine eye be simple thy whole body shall be full of light; if evil, all thy body shall be dark.' A wretched pauper hath often come to me to relieve his distress. As I knew not what was about to happen, I have presented him with divers pieces of money, and dismissed him. On his departure he has met with a thief on the public road, has incautiously fallen into conversation with him, proclaimed the kindness of the apostolical see, and, to prove the truth of his words, produced the purse. On their journey the way has been beguiled with various discourse, until the dissembler, loitering somewhat behind, has felled the stranger with a club, and immediately despatched him; and, after carrying off his money, has boasted of a murder which his thirst for plunder had excited. Can you, therefore, justly accuse me for giving that to a stranger which was the cause of his death? for even the most cruel person would not murder a man unless he hoped to fill his pockets with the money. What shall I say of civil and ecclesiastical laws? By these is not the selfsame fact both punished and approved under different circumstances? The thief is punished for murdering a man in secret, whereas the soldier is applauded who destroys his enemy in battle; the homicide, then, is ignominious in one and laudable in the other, as the latter committed it for the safety of his country, the former for the gratification of his desire for plunder. My predecessor Adrian the First, of renowned memory, was applauded for giving up the investiture of the churches to ​Charles the Great; so that no person elected could be consecrated by the bishop till the king had first dignified him with the ring and staff: on the other hand the pontiffs of our time have got credit for taking away these appointments from the princes. What at that time, then, might reasonably be granted, may at the present be reasonably taken away. But why so? Because the mind of Charles the Great was not assailable by avarice, nor could any person easily find access unless he entered by the door. Besides, at so vast a distance, it could not be required of the papal see to grant its consent to each person elected, so long as there was a king at hand who disposed of nothing through avarice, but always appointed religious persons to the churches, according to the sacred ordinances of the canons. At the present time luxury and ambition have beset every king's palace; wherefore the spouse of Christ deservedly asserts her liberty, lest a tyrant should prostitute to an ambitious usurper. Thus, on either side, may my cause be denied or affirmed; it is not the office of a bishop either himself to fight, or to command others to do so; but it belongs to a bishop's function, if he see innocence made shipwreck of, to oppose both hand and tongue. Ezekiel accuses the priests for not strongly opposing and holding forth a shield for the house of Israel in the day of the Lord. Now there are two persons in the church of God, appointed for the purpose of repressing crimes; one who can rebuke sharply; the other, who can wield the sword. I, as you can witness for me, have not neglected my part; as far as I saw it could profit, I did rebuke sharply. I sent a message to him whose business it was to bear the sword; he wrote me word back, that he was occupied in his war with the Vandals, entreating me not to spare my labour nor his expense in breaking up the meetings of the plunderers. If I had refused, what excuse could I offer to God after the emperor had delegated his office to me? Could I see the murder of the townspeople, the robbery of the pilgrims, and slumber on? But he who spares a thief, kills the innocent. Yet it will be objected that it is not the part of a priest to defile himself with the blood of any one: I grant it. But he does not defile himself, who frees the innocent by the destruction of the guilty. Blessed, truly blessed, are they who always keep judgment ​and do justice. Phineas and Mattathias were priests most renowned in fame, both crowned with the sacred mitre, and both habited in sacerdotal garb; and yet they both punished the wicked with their own hands. The one transfixed the guilty couple with a javelin: the other mingled the blood of the sacrificer with the sacrifice. If then those persons, regarding, as it were, the thick darkness of the law, were, through divine zeal, transported for mysteries, the shadows only of those which were to be; shall we, who see the truth with perfect clearness, suffer our sacred things to be profaned? Azarias the priest drove away king Ozias, when offering incense, and no doubt would have killed him, had he not quickly departed; the divine vengeance, however, anticipated the hand of the priest, for a leprosy preyed on the body of the man whose mind had coveted unlawful things; the devotion of a king was disturbed, and shall not the desires of a thief be so? It is not enough to excuse, I even applaud this my conduct; indeed I have conferred a benefit on the very persons I seem to have destroyed. I have diminished their punishment in accelerating their deaths. The longer a wicked man lives the more he will sin, unless he be such as God hath graciously reserved for a singular example. Death in general is good for all; for by it the just man finds repose in heaven,—the unjust ceases from his crimes,—the bad man puts an end to his guilt,—the good proceeds to his reward,—the saint approaches to the palm,—the sinner looks forward to pardon, because death has fixed a boundary to his transgressions. They then surely ought to thank me, who through my conduct have been exempted from so many sufferings. I have urged these matters in my own defence, and to invalidate your assertions: however, since both your reasoning and mine may be fallacious, let us commit all to the decision of God. Place my body, when laid out in the manner of my predecessors, before the gates of the church; and let them be secured with locks and bars. If God be willing that I should enter, you will hail a miracle; if not, do with my dead body according to your inclination."
Struck by this address, when he had breathed his last, they carried out the remains of the departed prelate before the doors, which were strongly fastened; and presently a ​whirlwind, sent by God, broke every opposing bolt, and drove the very doors, with the utmost violence, against the walls. The surrounding people applaud with joy, and the body of the pontiff was interred, with all due respect, by the side of the other popes.
At the same time something similar occurred in England, not by divine miracle, but by infernal craft; which when I shall have related, the credit of the narrative will not be shaken, though the minds of the hearers should be incredulous; for I have heard it from a man of such character, who swore he had seen it, that I should blush to disbelieve. There resided at Berkeley a woman addicted to witchcraft, as it afterwards appeared, and skilled in ancient augury: she was excessively gluttonous, perfectly lascivious, setting no bounds to her debaucheries, as she was not old, though fast declining in life. On a certain day, as she was regaling, a jack-daw, which was a very great favourite, chattered a little more loudly than usual. On hearing which the woman's knife fell from her hand, her countenance grew pale, and deeply groaning, "This day," said she, "my plough has completed its last furrow; to-day I shall hear of, and suffer, some dreadful calamity." While yet speaking, the messenger of her misfortunes arrived; and being asked, why he approached with so distressed an air? "I bring news," said he, "from that village," naming the place, "of the death of your son, and of the whole family, by a sudden accident." At this intelligence, the woman, sorely afflicted, immediately took to her bed, and perceiving the disorder rapidly approaching the vitals, she summoned her surviving children, a monk, and a nun, by hasty letters; and, when they arrived, with faltering voice, addressed them thus: "Formerly, my children, I constantly administered to my wretched circumstances by demoniacal arts: I have been the sink of every vice, the teacher of every allurement: yet, while practising these crimes, I was accustomed to soothe my hapless soul with the hope of your piety. Despairing of myself, I rested my expectations on you; I advanced you as my defenders against evil spirits, my safeguards against my strongest foes. Now, since I have approached the end of my life, and shall have those eager to punish, who lured me to sin, I entreat you by your mother's breasts, if you have any regard, any ​affection, at least to endeavour to alleviate my torments; and, although you cannot revoke the sentence already passed upon my soul, yet you may, perhaps, rescue my body, by these means: sew up my corpse in the skin of a stag; lay it on its back in a stone coffin; fasten down the lid with lead and iron; on this lay a stone, bound round with three iron chains of enormous weight; let there be psalms sung for fifty nights, and masses said for an equal number of days, to allay the ferocious attacks of my adversaries. If I lie thus secure for three nights, on the fourth day bury your mother in the ground; although I fear, lest the earth, which has been so often burdened with my crimes, should refuse to receive and cherish me in her bosom." They did their utmost to comply with her injunctions: but alas! vain were pious tears, vows, or entreaties; so great was the woman's guilt, so great the devil's violence. For on the first two nights, while the choir of priests was singing psalms around the body, the devils, one by one, with the utmost ease bursting open the door of the church, though closed with an immense bolt, broke asunder the two outer chains; the middle one being more laboriously wrought, remained entire. On the third night, about cock-crow, the whole monastery seemed to be overthrown from its very foundation, by the clamour of the approaching enemy. One devil, more terrible in appearance than the rest, and of loftier stature, broke the gates to shivers by the violence of his attack. The priests grew motionless with fear, their hair stood on end, and they became speechless. He proceeded, as it appeared, with haughty step towards the coffin, and calling on the woman by name, commanded her to rise. She replying that she could not on account of the chains: "You shall be loosed," said he, "and to your cost:" and directly he broke the chain, which had mocked the ferocity of the others, with as little exertion as though it had been made of flax. He also beat down the cover of the coffin with his foot, and taking her by the hand, before them all, he dragged her out of the church. At the doors appeared a black horse, proudly neighing, with iron hooks projecting over his whole back; on which the wretched creature was placed, and, immediately, with the whole party, vanished from the eyes of the ​beholders; her pitiable cries, however, for assistance, were heard for nearly the space of four miles. No person will deem this incredible, who has read St. Gregory's Dialogues; who tells, in his fourth book, of a wicked man that had been buried in a church, and was cast out of doors again by devils. Among the French also, what I am about to relate is frequently mentioned. Charles Martel, a man of renowned valour, who obliged the Saracens, when they had invaded France, to retire to Spain, was, at his death, buried in the church of St. Denys; but as he had seized much of the property of almost all the monasteries in France for the purpose of paying his soldiers, he was visibly taken away from his tomb by evil spirits, and has nowhere been seen to his day. At length this was revealed to the bishop of Orleans, and by him publicly made known.
But to return to Rome: there was a citizen of this place, youthful, rich, and of senatorial rank, who had recently married; and, who calling together his companions, had made a plentiful entertainment. After the repast, when by moderate drinking they had excited hilarity, they went out into the field to promote digestion, either by leaping, or hurling, or some other exercise. The master of the banquet, who was leader of the game, called for a ball to play with, and in the meantime placed the wedding ring on the outstretched finger of a brazen statue which stood close at hand. But when almost all the others had attacked him alone, tired with the violence of the exercise, he left off playing first, and going to resume his ring, he saw the finger of the statue clenched fast in the palm. Finding, after many attempts, that he was unable either to force it off, or to break the finger, he retired in silence; concealing the matter from his companions, lest they should laugh at him at the moment, or deprive him of the ring when he was gone. Returning thither with some servants in the dead of night, he was surprised to find the finger again extended, and the ring taken away. Dissembling his loss, he was soothed by the blandishments of his bride. When the hour of rest arrived, and he had placed himself by the side of his spouse, he was conscious of something dense, and cloud-like, rolling between them, which might be felt, though not seen, ​and by this means was impeded in his embraces: he heard a voice too, saying, "Embrace me, since you wedded me today; I am Venus, on whose finger you put the ring; I have it, nor will I restore it." Terrified at such a prodigy, he had neither courage, nor ability to reply, and passed a sleepless night in silent reflection upon the matter. A considerable space of time elapsed in this way: as often as he was desirous of the embraces of his wife, the same circumstance ever occurred; though in other respects, he was perfectly equal to any avocation, civil or military. At length, urged by the complaints of his consort, he detailed the matter to her parents; who, after deliberating for a time, disclosed it to one Palumbus, a suburban priest. This man was skilled in necromancy, could raise up magical figures, terrify devils, and impel them to do anything he chose. Making an agreement, that he should fill his purse most plentifully, provided he succeeded in rendering the lovers happy, he called up all the powers of his art, and gave the young man a letter which he had prepared; saying, "Go, at such an hour of the night, into the high road, where it divides into four several ways, and stand there in silent expectation. There will pass by human figures of either sex, of every age, rank, and condition; some on horseback, some on foot; some with countenances dejected, others elated with full-swollen insolence; in short, you will perceive in their looks and gestures, every symptom both of joy and of grief: though these should address you, enter into conversation with none of them. This company will be followed by a person taller, and more corpulent than the rest, sitting in a chariot; to him you will, in silence, give the letter to read, and immediately your wish will be accomplished, provided you act with resolution." The young man took the road he was commanded; and, at night, standing in the open air, experienced the truth of the priest's assertion by everything which he saw; there was nothing but what was completed to a tittle. Among other passing figures, he beheld a woman, in meretricious garb, riding on a mule; her hair, which was bound above in a golden fillet, floated unconfined on her shoulders; in her hand was a golden wand, with which she directed the progress of her beast; she was so thinly clad, as to be almost naked, and her gestures were wonderfully indecent. But ​what need of more? At last came the chief, in appearance, who, from his chariot adorned with emeralds and pearls, fixing his eyes most sternly on the young man, demanded the cause of his presence. He made no reply, but stretching out his hand, gave him the letter. The demon, not daring to despise the well-known seal, read the epistle, and immediately, lifting up his hands to heaven, "Almighty God," said he, "in whose sight every transgression is as a noisome smell, how long wilt thou endure the crimes of the priest Palumbus?" The devil then directly sent some of those about him to take the ring by force from Venus, who restored it at last, though with great reluctance. The young man thus obtaining his object, became possessed of his long desired pleasures without farther obstacle; but Palumbus, on hearing of the devil's complaint to God concerning him, understood that the close of his days was predicted. In consequence, making a pitiable atonement by voluntarily cutting off all his limbs, he confessed unheard-of crimes to the pope in the presence of the Roman people.
At that time the body of Pallas, the son of Evander, of whom Virgil speaks, was found entire at Rome, to the great astonishment of all, for having escaped corruption so many ages. Such, however, is the nature of bodies embalmed, that, when the flesh decays, the skin preserves the nerves, and the nerves the bones. The gash which Turnus had made in the middle of his breast measured four feet and a half. His epitaph was found to this effect,
Which epitaph I should not think made at the time, though Carmentis the mother of Evander is reported to have discovered the Roman letters, but that it was composed by Ennius, or some other ancient poet. There was a burning lamp at his head, constructed by magical art; so that no ​violent blast, no dripping of water could extinguish it. While many were lost in admiration at this, one person, as there are always some people expert in mischief, made an aperture beneath the flame with an iron style, which introducing the air, the light vanished. The body, when set up against the wall, surpassed it in height, but some days afterwards, being drenched with the drip of the eves, it acknowledged the corruption common to mortals; the skin and the nerves dissolving.
At that time too, on the confines of Brittany and Normandy, a prodigy was seen in one, or more properly speaking, in two women: there were two heads, four arms, and every other part two-fold to the navel; beneath, were two legs, two feet, and all other parts single. While one was laughing, eating, or speaking, the other would cry, fast, or remain silent: though both mouths ate, yet the excrement was discharged by only one passage. At last, one dying, the other survived, and the living carried about the dead, for the space of three years, till she died also, through the fatigue of the weight, and the stench of the dead carcass. Many were of opinion, and some even have written, that these women represented England and Normandy, which, though separated by position, are yet united under one master. Whatever wealth these countries greedily absorb, flows into one common receptacle, which is either the covetousness of princes, or the ferocity of surrounding nations. England, yet vigorous, supports with her wealth Normandy now dead and almost decayed, until she herself perhaps shall fall through the violence of spoilers. Happy, if she shall ever again breathe that liberty, the mere shadow of which she has long pursued! She now mourns, borne down with calamity, and oppressed with exactions; the causes of which misery I shall relate, after I have despatched some things pertaining to my subject. For since I have hitherto recorded the civil and military transactions of the kings of England, I ​may be allowed to expatiate somewhat on the sanctity of certain of them; and at the same time to contemplate what splendour of divine love beamed on this people, from the first dawning of their faith: since I believe you can no where find the bodies of so many saints entire after death, typifying the state of final incorruption. I imagine this to have taken place by God's agency, in order that a nation, situated, as it were, almost out of the world, should more confidently embrace the hope of a resurrection from the contemplation of the incorruption of the saints. There are, altogether, five which I have known of, though the residents in many places boast of more; Saint Etheldrida, and Werburga, virgins; king Edmund; archbishop Elphege; Cuthbert the ancient father: who with skin and flesh unwasted, and their joints flexile, appear to have a certain vital warmth about them, and to be merely sleeping. Who can enumerate all the other saints, of different ranks and professions? whose names and lives, singly to describe, I have neither intention nor leisure: yet oh that I might hereafter have leisure! But I will be silent, lest I should seem to promise more than I can perform. In consequence, it is not necessary to mention any of the commonalty, but merely, not to go out of the path of my subject history, the male and female scions of the royal stock, most of them innocently murdered; and who have been consecrated martyrs, not by human conjecture, but by divine acknowledgment. Hence may be known how little indulgence they gave to the lust of pleasure, who inherited eternal glory by means of so easy a death.
In the former book, my history dwelt for some time on the praises of the most holy Oswald, king and martyr; among whose other marks of sanctity, was this, which, according to some copies, is related in the History of the Angles. In the monastery at Selsey, which Wilfrid of holy memory had ​filled with Northumbrian monks, a dreadful malady broke out, and destroyed numbers; the remainder endeavoured to avert the pestilence by a fast of three days. On the second day of the fast, the blessed apostles Peter and Paul, appearing to a youth who was sick with the disorder, animated him by observing: "That he should not fear approaching death, as it would be a termination of his present illness, and an entrance into eternal life; that no other person of that monastery would die of this disorder, because God had granted this to the merits of the noble king Oswald, who was that very day supplicating for his countrymen: for it was on this day that the king, murdered by the faithless, had in a moment ascended to the heavenly tribunal: that they should search, therefore, in the scroll, in which the names of the dead were written, and if they found it so, they should put an end to the fast, give loose to security and joy, and sing solemn masses to God, and to the holy king." This vision being quickly followed by the death of the boy, and the anniversary of the martyr being found in the martyrology, and at the same time the cessation of the disorder being attested by the whole province, the name of Oswald was from that period inserted among the martyrs, which before, on account of his recent death, had only been admitted into the list of the faithful. Deservedly, I say, then, deservedly is he to be celebrated, whose glory the divine approbation so signally manifested, as to order him to be dignified with masses, in a manner, as I think, not usual among men. The undoubted veracity of the historian precludes the possibility of supposing this matter to be false; as does also the blessed bishop Acca, who was the friend of the author.
Egbert, king of Kent, the son of Erconbert, whom I have mentioned before, had some very near relations, descended from the royal hue; their names were Ethelred and Ethelbert, the sons of Ermenred his uncle. Apprehensive that they might grow up with notions of succeeding to the kingdom, and fearful for his safety, he kept them about him for some time, with very homely entertainment : and, at last, grudging them his regards, he removed them from his court ​Soon after, when they had been secretly despatched by one of his servants named Thunre, which signifies Thunder, he buried them under heaps of rubbish, thinking that a murder perpetrated in privacy would escape detection. The eye of God however, which no secrets of the heart can deceive, brought the innocents to light, vouchsafing many cures upon the spot; until the neighbours, being roused, dug up the unsightly heaps of turf and rubbish cast upon their bodies, and forming a trench after the manner of a sepulchre, they erected a small church over it. There they remained till the time of king Edgar, when they were taken up by St. Oswald, archbishop of Worcester, and conveyed to the monastery of Ramsey; from which period, granting the petitions of the suppliant, they have manifested themselves by many miracles.
Offa king of the Mercians murdered many persons of consequence for the security, as he supposed, of his kingdom, without any distinction of friend or foe; among these was king Ethelbert; thereby being guilty of an atrocious outrage against the suitor of his daughter. His unmerited death, however, is thought to have been amply avenged by the short reign of Offa's son. Indeed God signalised his sanctity by such evident tokens, that at this very day the episcopal church of Hereford is consecrated to his name. Nor should any thing appear idle or irrelevant, which our pious and religious ancestors have either tolerated by their silence, or confirmed by their authority.
What shall my pen here trace worthy of St. Kenelm, a youth of tender age? Kenulf, king of the Mercians, his father, had consigned him, when seven years old, to his sister Quendrida, for the purpose of education. But she, falsely entertaining hopes of the kingdom for herself, gave her little brother in charge to a servant of her household, with an order to despatch him. Taking out the innocent, under pretence of hunting for his amusement or recreation, he murdered and hid him in a thicket. But strange to tell, the crime which had been so secretly committed in England, gained publicity in Rome, by God's agency: for a dove, from heaven, bore a parchment scroll to the altar of St. Peter, containing an exact account both of his death and ​place of burial. As this was written in the English language it was vainly attempted to be read by the Romans and men of other nations who were present. Fortunately, however, and opportunely, an Englishman was at hand, who translated the writing to the Roman people, into Latin, and gave occasion to the pope to write a letter to the kings of England, acquainting them with the martyrdom of their countryman. In consequence of this the body of the innocent was taken up in presence of a numerous assembly, and removed to Winchcomb. The murderous woman was so indignant at the vocal chaunt of the priests and loud applause of the laity, that she thrust out her head from the window of the chamber where she was standing, and, by chance, having in her hands a psalter, she came in course of reading to the psalm "O God my praise," which, for I know not what charm, reading backwards, she endeavoured to drown the joy of the choristers. At that moment, her eyes, torn by divine vengeance from their hollow sockets, scattered blood upon the verse which runs, "This is the work of them who defame me to the Lord, and who speak evil against my soul." The marks of her blood are still extant, proving the cruelty of the woman, and the vengeance of God. The body of the little saint is very generally adored, and there is hardly any place in England more venerated, or where greater numbers of persons attend at the festival; and this arising from the long- continued belief of his sanctity, and the constant exhibition of miracles.
Nor shall my history be wanting in thy praise, Wistan, blessed youth, son of Wimund, son of Withlaf king of the Mercians, and of Elfleda, daughter of Ceolwulf, who was the uncle of Kenelm; I will not, I say, pass thee over in silence, whom Berfert thy relation so atrociously murdered. And let posterity know, if they deem this history worthy of perusal, that there was nothing earthly more praiseworthy than your disposition; at which a deadly assassin becoming irritated, despatched you: nor was there any thing more innocent than your purity towards God; invited by which, the secret Judge deemed it fitting to honour you: for a pillar of light, sent down from heaven, piercing the sable robe of night, ​revealed the wickedness of the deep cavern, and brought to view the crime of the murderer. In consequence, Wistan's venerable remains were taken up, and by the care of his relations conveyed to Rependun; at that time a famous monastery, now a villa belonging to the earl of Chester, and its glory grown obsolete with age; but at present thou dwellest at Evesham, kindly favouring the petitions of such as regard thee.
Bede has related many anecdotes of the sanctity of the kings of the East Saxons, and East Angles, whose genealogy I have in the first book of this work traced briefly; because I could no where find a complete history of the kings. I shall however, dilate somewhat on St. Edmund, who held dominion in East Anglia, and to whom the time of Bede did not extend. This province, on the south and east, is surrounded by the ocean; on the north, by deep lakes, and stagnant pools, which, stretching out a vast distance in length, with a breadth of two or three miles, afford abundance of fish for the use of the inhabitants; on the west it is continuous with the rest of the island, but defended by the earth's being thrown up in the form of a rampart. The soil is admirable for pasture, and for hunting; it is full of monasteries, and large bodies of monks are settled on the islands of these stagnant waters; the people are a merry, pleasant, jovial race, though apt to carry their jokes to excess. Here, then, reigned Edmund; a man devoted to God, ennobled by his descent from ancient kings, and though he presided over the province in peace for several years, yet never through the effeminacy of the times did he relax his virtue. Hingwar and Hubba, two leaders of the Danes, came over to depopulate the provinces of the Northumbrians and East Angles. The former of these seized the unresisting king, who had cast away his arms and was lying on the ground in prayer, and, after the infliction of tortures, beheaded him. On the death of this saintly man, the purity of his past life was evidenced by unheard-of miracles. The Danes had cast away the head, when severed from the body ​by the cruelty of the executioners, and it had been hidden in a thicket. While his subjects, who had tracked the footsteps of the enemy as they departed, were seeking it, intending to solemnize with due honour the funeral rites of their king, they were struck with the pleasing intervention of God: for the lifeless head uttered a voice, inviting all who were in search of it to approach. A wolf, a beast accustomed to prey upon dead carcasses, was holding it in its paws, and guarding it untouched; which animal also, after the manner of a tame creature, gently followed the bearers to the tomb, and neither did nor received any injury. The sacred body was then, for a time, committed to the earth; turf was placed over it, and a wooden chapel, of trifling cost, erected. The negligent natives, however, were soon made sensible of the virtue of the martyr, which excited their listless minds to reverence him, by the miracles which he performed. And though perhaps the first proof of his power may appear weak and trivial, yet nevertheless I shall subjoin it. He bound, with invisible bands, some thieves who had endeavoured to break into the church by night: this was done in the very attempt; a pleasant spectacle enough, to see the plunder hold fast the thief, so that he could neither desist from the enterprise, nor complete the design. In consequence, Theodred bishop of London, who lies at St. Paul's, removed the lasting disgrace of so mean a structure, by building a nobler edifice over those sacred limbs, which evidenced the glory of his unspotted soul, by surprising soundness, and a kind of milky whiteness. The head, which was formerly divided from the neck, is again united to the rest of the body showing only the sign of martyrdom by a purple seam. One circumstance indeed surpasses human miracles, which is, that the hair and nails of the dead man continue to grow: these, Oswen, a holy woman, used yearly to clip and cut, that they might be objects of veneration to posterity. Truly this was a holy temerity, for a woman to contemplate and handle limbs superior to the whole of this world. Not so Leofstan, a youth of bold and untamed insolence, who, with many impertinent threats, commanded the body of the martyr to be shown to him; for he was desirous, as he said, of settling the uncertainty of report by the testimony of his own eyesight. He paid dearly, however, for his audacious experi​ment; for he became insane, and shortly after, died, swarming with vermin. He felt indeed that Edmund was now capable of doing, what he before used to do; that is,
by which means he so completely engaged the inhabitants of all Britain to him, that every person looked upon himself as particularly happy, in contributing either money or gifts to St. Edmund's monastery: even kings themselves, who rule others, used to boast of being his servants, and sent him their royal crown; redeeming it, if they wished to use it, at a great price. The exactors of taxes also, who, in other places, gave loose to injustice, were there suppliant, and ceased their cavilling at St. Edmund's boundary, admonished thereto by the punishment of others who had presumed to overpass it.
My commendations shall also glance at the names of some maidens of the royal race, though I must claim indulgence for being brief upon the subject, not through fastidiousness, but because I am unacquainted with their miracles. Anna king of the East Angles had three daughters, Etheldrida, Ethelberga, and Sexberga. Etheldrida, though married to two husbands, yet by means of saintly continence, as Bede relates, without any diminution of modesty, without a single lustful inclination, triumphantly displayed to heaven the palm of perpetual virginity. Ethelberga, first a nun, and afterwards abbess, in a monastery in France called Brigis, was celebrated for unblemished chastity; and it is well worthy of remark, that as both sisters had subdued the lusts of the flesh while living, so, when dead, their bodies remained uncorrupt, the one in England, and the other in France; insomuch, that their sanctity, which is abundantly resplendent, may suffice
Sexberga was married to Erconbert king of Kent, and, after his death, took the veil in the same monastery where her sister Etheldrida was proclaimed a saint. She had two daughters by king Erconbert, Earcongota and Ermenhilda. ​Of Ercongota, such as wish for information will find it in Bede; Ermenhilda married Wulfhere, king of the Mercians, and had a daughter, Werburga, a most holy virgin. Both are saints: the mother, that is to say, St. Ermenhilda, rests at Ely, where she was abbess after her mother, Sexberga; and the daughter lies at Chester, in the monastery of that city, which Hugo earl of Chester, ejecting a few canons who resided there in a mean and irregular manner, has recently erected. The praises and miracles of both these women, and particularly of the younger, are there extolled and held in veneration; and though they are favourable to all petitions without delay, yet are they more especially kind and assistant to the supplications of women and youths.
Merewald the brother of Wulfhere, by Ermenburga, the daughter of Ermenred brother of Erconbert king of Kent, had two daughters: Mildritha and Milburga. Mildritha, dedicating herself to celibacy, ended her days in the Isle of Thanet in Kent, which king Egbert had given to her mother, to atone for the murder of her brothers, Ethelred and Ethelbert. In after times, being transferred to St. Augustine's monastery at Canterbury, she is there honoured by the marked attention of the monks, and celebrated equally for her kindness and affability to all, as her name implies. And although almost every corner of that monastery is filled with the bodies of saints of great name and merit, any one of which would be of itself sufficient to irradiate all England, yet no one is there more revered, more loved, or more gratefully remembered; and she, turning a deaf ear to none who love her, is present to them in the salvation of their souls.
Milburga reposes at Wenlock; formerly well known to the neighbouring inhabitants; but for some time after the arrival of the Normans, through ignorance of the place of her burial, she was neglected. Lately, however, a convent of ​Clugniac monks being established there, while a new church was erecting, a certain boy running violently along the pavement, broke into the hollow of the vault, and discovered the body of the virgin; when a balsamic odour pervading the whole church, she was taken up, and performed so many miracles, that the people flocked thither in great multitudes. Large spreading plains could hardly contain the troops of pilgrims, while rich and poor came side by side, one common faith impelling all. Nor did the event deceive their expectations: for no one departed, without either a perfect cure, or considerable abatement of his malady, and some were even healed of the king's evil, by the merits of this virgin, when medical assistance was unavailing.
Edward the Elder, of whom I have before spoken at large, had by his wife Edgiva, several daughters. Among these was Eadburga, who, when she was scarcely three years old, gave a singular indication of her future sanctity. Her father was inclined to try whether the little girl was inclined to God, or to the world, and had placed in a chamber the symbols of diiferent professions; on one side a chalice, and the gospels; on the other, bracelets and necklaces. Hither the child was brought in the arms of her indulgent attendant, and, sitting on her father's knee, was desired to choose which she pleased. Rejecting the earthly ornaments with stern regard, she instantly fell prostrate before the chalice and the gospels, and worshipped them with infant adoration. The company present exclaimed aloud, and fondly hailed the prospect of the child's future sanctity; her father embraced the infant in a manner still more endearing. "Go," said he, "whither the Divinity calls thee; follow with prosperous steps the spouse whom thou hast chosen, and truly blessed shall my wife and myself be, if we are surpassed in holiness by our daughter." When clothed in the garb of a nun, she gained the affection of all her female companions, in the city of Winchester, by the marked attention she paid them. Nor did the greatness of her birth elevate her; as she esteemed it noble to stoop to the service of Christ. Her sanctity increased with her years, her humility kept pace with her growth; so that she used secretly to steal away the socks of the several nuns at night, and, carefully washing and anointing them, lay them again upon their beds. Wherefore, ​though God signalized her, while living, by many miracles, yet I more particularly bring forward this circumstance, to show that charity began all her works, and humility completed them: and finally, many miracles in her life-time, and since her death, confirm the devotion of her heart and the incorruptness of her body, which the attendants at her churches at Winchester and Pershore relate to such as are unacquainted with them.
St. Editha, the daughter of king Edgar, ennobles, with her relics, the monastery of Wilton, where she was buried, and cherishes that place with her regard, where, trained from her infancy in the school of the Lord, she gained his favour by unsullied virginity, and constant watchings: repressing the pride of her high birth by her humility. I have heard one circumstance of her, from persons of elder days, which greatly staggered the opinions of men: for she led them into false conclusions from the splendour of her costly dress; being always habited in richer garb than the sanctity of her profession seemed to require. On this account, being openly rebuked by St. Ethelwold, she is reported to have answered with equal point and wit, that the judgment of God was true and irrefragable, while that of man, alone, was fallible; for pride might exist even under the garb of wretchedness: wherefore, "I think," said she, "that a mind may be as pure beneath these vestments, as under your tattered furs." The bishop was deeply struck by this speech; admitting its truth by his silence, and blushing with pleasure that he had been chastised by the sparkling repartee of the lady, he held his peace. St. Dunstan had observed her, at the consecration of the church of St. Denys, which she had built out of affection to that martyr, frequently stretching out her right thumb, and making the sign of the cross upon her forehead; and being extremely delighted at it, "May this finger," he exclaimed, "never see corruption:" and immediately, while celebrating mass, he burst into such a flood of tears, that he alarmed with his faltering voice an assistant standing near him; who inquiring the reason of it, "Soon," said he, "shall this blooming rose wither; soon shall this beloved bird take its flight to God, after the expiration of six weeks from this time." The truth of the prelate's prophecy was very shortly fulfilled; for on the appointed day, this noble, firmly-minded ​lady, expired in her prime, at the age of twenty-three years. Soon after, the same saint saw, in a dream, St. Denys kindly taking the virgin by the hand, and strictly enjoining, by divine command, that she should be honoured by her servants on earth, in the same manner as she was venerated by her spouse and master in heaven. Miracles multiplying at her tomb, it was ordered, that her virgin body should be taken up, and exalted in a shrine; when the whole of it was found resolved into dust, except the finger, with the abdomen and parts adjacent. In consequence of which, some debate arising, the virgin herself appeared, in a dream, to one of those who had seen her remains, saying, "It was no wonder, if the other parts of the body had decayed, since it was customary for dead bodies to moulder to their native dust, and she, perhaps, as a girl, had sinned with those members; but it was highly just, that the abdomen should see no corruption which had never felt the sting of lust; as she had been entirely free from gluttony or carnal copulation."
Truly both these virgins support their respective monasteries by their merits; each of them being filled with large assemblies of nuns, who answer obediently to the call of their mistresses and patronesses, inviting them to virtue. Happy the man, who becomes partaker of those virgin orisons which the Lord Jesus favours with kind regard. For, as I have remarked of the nuns of Shaftesbury, all virtues have long since quitted the earth, and retired to heaven; or, if any where, (but this I must say with the permission of holy men,) are to be found only in the hearts of nuns; and surely those women are highly to be praised, who, regardless of the weakness of their sex, vie with each other in the preservation of their continence, and by such means ascend, triumphant, to heaven.
I think it of importance to have been acquainted with many of the royal family of either sex; as it may be gathered from thence that king Edward, concerning whom I was speaking before I digressed, by no means degenerated from the virtues of his ancestors. In fact he was famed both for miracles, and for the spirit of prophecy, as I shall hereafter relate. In the exaction of taxes he was sparing, and he abominated the insolence of collectors: in eating and drinking he was free from the voluptuousness which his ​state allowed: on the more solemn festivals, though dressed in robes intei-woven with gold, which the queen had most splendidly embroidered, yet still he had such forbearance, as to be sufficiently majestic, without being haughty; considering in such matters, rather the bounty of God, than the pomp of the world. There was one earthly enjoyment in which he chiefly delighted; which was, hunting with fleet hounds, whose opening in the woods he used with pleasure to encourage: and again, with the pouncing of birds, whose nature it is to prey on their kindred species. In these exercises, after hearing divine service in the morning, he employed himself whole days. In other respects he was a man by choice devoted to God, and lived the life of an angel in the administration of his kingdom. To the poor and to the stranger, more especially foreigners and men of religious orders, he was kind in invitation, munificent in his presents, and constantly exciting the monks of his own country to imitate their holiness. He was of a becoming stature; his beard and hair milk-white; his countenance florid; fair throughout his whole person; and his form of admirable proportion.
The happiness of his times had been revealed in a dream to Brithwin bishop of Wilton, who had made it public. For in the time of Canute, when, at Glastonbury, he was once intent on heavenly watchings, and the thought of the near extinction of the royal race of the Angles, which frequently distressed him, came into his mind, sleep stole upon him thus meditating; when behold! he was rapt on high, and saw Peter, the chief of the apostles, consecrating Edward, who at that time was an exile in Normandy, king; his chaste life too was pointed out, and the exact period of his reign, twenty-four years, determined; and, when inquiring about his posterity, it was answered, "The kingdom of the English belongs to God; after you he will provide a king according to his pleasure."
But now to speak of his miracles. A young woman had married a husband of her own age, but having no issue by the union, the humours collecting abundantly about her neck, she had contracted a sore disorder; the glands swelling in a dreadful manner. Admonished in a dream to have the part affected washed by the king, she entered the palace, and ​the king himself fulfilled this labour of love, by rubbing the woman's neck with his fingers dipped in water. Joyous health followed his healing hand: the lurid skin opened, so that worms flowed out with the purulent matter, and the tumour subsided. But as the orifice of the ulcers was large and unsightly, he commanded her to be supported at the royal expense till she should be perfectly cured. However, before a week was expired, a fair, new skin returned, and hid the scars so completely, that nothing of the original wound could be discovered: and within a year becoming the mother of twins, she increased the admiration of Edward's holiness. Those who knew him more intimately, affirm that he often cured this complaint in Normandy: whence appears how false is their notion, who in our times assert, that the cure of this disease does not proceed from personal sanctity, but from hereditary virtue in the royal line.
A certain man, blind from some unknown mischance, had persisted in asserting about the palace, that he should be cured, if he could touch his eyes with the water in which the king's hands had been washed. This was frequently related to Edward, who derided it, and looked angrily on the persons who mentioned it; confessing himself a sinner, and that the works of holy men did not belong to him. But the servants, thinking this a matter not to be neglected, tried the experiment when he was ignorant of it, and was praying in church. The instant the blind man was washed with the water, the long-enduring darkness fled from his eyes, and they were filled with joyful light; and the king, inquiring the cause of the grateful clamour of the by-standers, was informed of the fact. Presently afterwards, when, by thrusting his fingers towards the eyes of the man he had cured, and perceiving him draw back his head to avoid them, he had made proof of his sight, he, with uplifted hands, returned thanks to God. In the same way he cured a blind man at Lincoln, who survived him many years, a proof of the royal miracle.
That you may know the perfect virtue of this prince, in the power of healing more especially, I shall add something which will excite your wonder. Wulwin, surnamed Spillecorn, the son of Wulmar of Nutgareshale, was one day cutting timber in the wood of Bruelle, and indulging in a ​long sleep after his labour, lie lost his sight for seventeen years, from the blood, as I imagine, stagnating about his eyes: at the end of this time, he was admonished in a dream to go round to eighty-seven churches, and earnestly entreat a cure of his blindness from the saints. At last he came to the king's court, where he remained for a long time, in vain, in opposition to the attendants, at the vestibule of his chamber. He still continued importunate, however, without being deterred, till at last, after much difficulty, he was admitted by order of the king. When he had heard the dream, he mildly answered, "By my lady St. Mary, I shall be truly grateful, if God, through my means, shall choose to take pity upon a wretched creature." In consequence, though he had no confidence in himself, with respect to miracles, yet, at the instigation of his servants, he placed his hand, dipped in water, on the blind man. In a moment the blood dripped plentifully from his eyes, and the man, restored to sight, exclaimed with rapture, "I see you, king! I see you, O king!" In this recovered state, he had charge of the royal palace at Windsor, for there the cure had been performed, for a long time; surviving his restorer several years. On the same day, from the same water, three blind men, and a man with one eye, who were supported on the royal arms, received a cure; the servants administering the healing water with perfect confidence.
On Easter-day, he was sitting at table at Westminster, with the crown on his head, and surrounded by a crowd of nobles. While the rest were greedily eating, and making up for the long fast of Lent by the newly provided viands, he, with mind abstracted from earthly things, was absorbed in the contemplation of some divine matter, when presently he excited the attention of the guests by bursting into profuse laughter: and as none presumed to inquire into the cause of his joy, he remained silent as before, till satiety had put an end to the banquet. After the tables were removed, and as he was unrobing in his chamber, three persons of rank followed him; of these earl Harold was one, the second was an abbat, and the third a bishop, who presuming on their intimacy asked the cause of his laughter, observing, that it seemed just matter of astonishment to see him, in such perfect tranquillity both of time and occupation, burst into a vulgar laugh, while ​all others were silent. "I saw something wonderful," said he, "and therefore I did not laugh without a cause." At this, as is the custom of mankind, they began to inquire and search into the matter more earnestly, entreating that he would condescend to disclose it to them. After much reluctance, he yielded to their persevering solicitations, and related the following wonderful circumstance, saying, that the Seven Sleepers in mount Coelius had now lain for two hundred years on their right side, but that, at the very hour of his laughter, they turned upon their left; that they would continue to lie in this manner for seventy-four years, which would be a dreadful omen to wretched mortals. For every thing would come to pass, in these seventy-four years, which the Lord had foretold to his disciples concerning the end of the world; nation would rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; earthquakes would be in divers places; pestilence and famine, terrors from heaven and great signs; changes in kingdoms; wars of the gentiles against the Christians, and also victories of the Christians over the pagans. Relating these matters to his wondering audience, he descanted on the passion of these sleepers, and the make of their bodies, though totally unnoticed in history, as readily as though he had lived in daily intercourse with them. On hearing this the earl sent a knight ; the bishop a clergyman; and the abbat a monk, to Maniches the Constantinopolitan emperor, to investigate the truth of his declaration; adding letters and presents from the king. After being kindly entertained, Maniches sent them to the bishop of Ephesus, giving them at the same time what is called a holy letter, that the martyr-relics of the Seven Sleepers should be shown to the delegates of the king of England. It fell out that ​the presage of king Edward was proved by all the Greeks, who could swear they had heard from their fathers that the men were lying on their right side; hut after the entrance of the English into the vault, they published the truth of the foreign prophecy to their countrymen. Nor was it long before the predicted evils came to pass; for the Hagarens, and Arabs, and Turks, nations averse to Christ, making havoc of the Christians, overran Syria, and Lycia, and Asia Minor altogether, devastating many cities too of Asia Major, among which was Ephesus, and even Jerusalem itself. At the same time, on the death of Maniches emperor of Constantinople, Diogenes, and Michaelius, and Bucinacius, and Alexius, in turn hurled each other headlong from the throne; the last of whom, continuing till our time, left for heir his son John more noted for cunning and deceit than worth. He contrived many hurtful plots against the pilgrims on their sacred journey; but venerating the fidelity of the English, he showed them every civility, and transmitted his regard for them to his son. In the next seven years were three popes, Victor, Stephen, Nicholas, who diminished the vigour of the papacy by their successive deaths. Almost immediately afterwards too died Henry, the pious emperor of the Romans, and had for successor Henry his son, who brought many calamities on the city of Rome by his folly and his wickedness. The same year Henry, king of France, a good and active warrior, died by poison. Soon after a comet, a star denoting, as they say, change in kingdoms, appeared trailing its extended and fiery train along the sky. Wherefore a certain monk of our monastery, by name Elmer, bowing down with terror at the sight of the brilliant star, wisely exclaimed, "Thou art come! a matter of lamentation to many a mother art thou come; I have seen ​thee long since; but I now behold thee much more terrible, threatening to hurl destruction on this country." He was a man of good learning for those times, of mature age, and in his early youth had hazarded an attempt of singular temerity. He had by some contrivance fastened wings to his hands and feet, in order that, looking upon the fable as true, he might fly like Dæedalus, and collecting the air on the summit of a tower, had flown for more than the distance of a furlong; but, agitated by the violence of the wind and the current of air, as well as by the consciousness of his rash attempt, he fell and broke his legs, and was lame ever after. He used to relate as the cause of his failure, his forgetting to provide himself a tail.
Another prophecy similar to this, Edward uttered when dying, which I shall here anticipate. When he had lain two days speechless, on the third, sadly and deeply sighing as he awoke from his torpor, "Almighty God," said he, "as this shall be a real vision, or a vain illusion, which I have seen, grant me the power of explaining it, or not, to the bystanders." Soon after speaking fluently, "I saw just now," continued he, "two monks near me, whom formerly, when a youth in Normandy, I knew both to have lived in a most religious manner, and to have died like perfect Christians. These men, announcing themselves as the messengers of God, spake to the following effect: 'Since the chiefs of England, the dukes, bishops, and abbats, are not the ministers of God, but of the devil, God, after your death, has delivered this kingdom for a year and a day, into the hand of the enemy, and devils shall wander over all the land.' And when I said that I would show these things to my people; and promised that they should liberate themselves by repentance, after the old example of the Ninevites; 'Neither of these,' said they, 'shall take place; for they will not repent, nor will God have mercy on them.' When then, said I, may cessation from such great calamities be hoped for? They replied, 'Whenever a green tree shall be cut through the middle, and the part cut off, being carried the space of three acres from the trunk, shall, without any assistance, become again united to its stem, bud out with flowers, and stretch forth its fruit, as before, from the sap again uniting; then may a cessation of such evils be at last expected.'" ​ Though others were apprehensive of the truth of this prediction, jet Stigand, at that time archbishop, received it with laughter; saying, that the old man doted through disease. We, however, find the truth of the presage experimentally ; for England is become the residence of foreigners, and the property of strangers: at the present time, there is no Englishman, either earl, bishop, or abbat; strangers all, they prey upon the riches and vitals of England; nor is there any hope of a termination to this misery. The cause of which evil, as I have long since promised, it is now high time that my narrative should endeavour briefly to disclose.
King Edward declining into years, as he had no children himself, and saw the sons of Godwin growing in power, despatched messengers to the king of Hungary, to send over Edward, the son of his brother Edmund, with all his family: intending, as he declared, that either he, or his sons, should succeed to the hereditary kingdom of England, and that his own want of issue should be supplied by that of his kindred. Edward came in consequence, but died almost immediately at St. Paul's in London: he was neither valiant, nor a man of abilities. He left three surviving children; that is to say, Edgar, who, after the death of Harold, was by some elected king; and who, after many revolutions of fortune, is now living wholly retired in the country, in extreme old age: Christina, who grew old at Romsey in the habit of a nun: Margaret, whom Malcolm king of the Scots espoused. Blessed with a numerous offspring, her sons were Edgar, and Alexander, who reigned in Scotland after their father in due succession: for the eldest, Edward, had fallen in battle with his father; the youngest, David, noted for his meekness and discretion, is at present king of Scotland. Her daughters were, Matilda, whom in our time king Henry has married, and Maria, whom Eustace the younger, earl of Boulogne, espoused. The king, in consequence of the death of his relation, losing his first hope of support, gave the succession of England to William earl of Normandy. He was well worthy of such a gift, being a young man of superior mind, who had raised himself to the highest eminence by his un​wearied exertion: moreover, he was his nearest relation by consanguinity, as he was the son of Robert, the son of Richard the second, whom we have repeatedly mentioned as the brother of Emma, Edward's mother. Some affirm that Harold himself was sent into Normandy by the king for this purpose: others, who knew Harold's more secret intentions, say, that being driven thither against his will, by the violence of the wind, he imagined this device, in order to extricate himself. This, as it appears nearest the truth, I shall relate. Harold being at his country-seat at Boseham, went for recreation on board a fishing boat, and, for the purpose of prolonging his sport, put out to sea; when a sudden tempest arising, he was driven with his companions on the coast of Ponthieu. The people of that district, as was their native custom, immediately assembled from all quarters; and Harold's company, unarmed and few in number, were, as it easily might be, quickly overpowered by an armed multitude, and bound hand and foot. Harold, craftily meditating a remedy for this mischance, sent a person, whom he had allured by very great promises, to William, to say, that he had been sent into Normandy by the king, for the purpose of expressly confirming, in person, the message which had been imperfectly delivered by people of less authority; but that he was detained in fetters by Guy earl of Ponthieu, and could not execute his embassy: that it was the barbarous and inveterate custom of the country, that such as had escaped destruction at sea, should meet with perils on shore: that it well became a man of his dignity, not to let this pass unpunished: that to suffer those to be laden with chains, who appealed to his protection, detracted somewhat from his own greatness: and that if his captivity must be terminated by money, he would gladly give it to earl William, but not to the contemptible Guy. By these means, Harold was liberated at William's command, and conducted to Normandy by Guy in person. The earl entertained him with much respect, both in banqueting and in vesture, according to the custom of his country; and the better to learn his disposition, and at the same time to try his courage, took him with him in an expedition he at that time led against Brittany. There, Harold, well proved both in ability and courage, won the ​heart of the Norman; and, still more to ingratiate himself, he of his own accord, confirmed to him by oath the castle of Dover, which was under his jurisdiction, and the kingdom of England, after the death of Edward. Wherefore, he was honoured both by having his daughter, then a child, betrothed to him, and by the confirmation of his ample patrimony, and was received into the strictest intimacy. Not long after his return home, the king was crowned at London on Christmas-day, and being there seized with the disorder of which he was sensible he should die, he commanded the church of Westminster to be dedicated on Innocents-day. Thus, full of years and of glory, he surrendered his pure spirit to heaven, and was buried on the day of the Epiphany, in the said church, which he, first in England, had erected after that kind of style which, now, almost all attempt to rival at enormous expense. The race of the West Saxons, which had reigned in Britain five hundred and seventy-one years, from the time of Cerdic, and two hundred and sixty-one from Egbert, in him ceased altogether to rule. For while the grief for the king's death was yet fresh, Harold, on the very day of the Epiphany, seized the diadem, and extorted from the nobles their consent; though the English say, that it was granted him by the king: but I conceive it alleged, more through regard to Harold, than through sound judgment, that Edward should transfer his inheritance to a man of whose power he had always been jealous. Still, not to conceal the truth, Harold would have governed the kingdom with prudence and with courage, in the character he had assumed, had he undertaken it lawfully. Indeed, during Edward's lifetime, he had quelled, by his valour, whatever wars were excited against him; wishing to signalize himself with his countrymen, and looking forward ​with anxious hope to the crown. He first vanquished Griffin king of the Welsh, as I have before related, in battle; and, afterwards, when he was again making formidable efforts to recover his power, deprived him of his head; appointing as his successors, two of his own adherents, that is, the brothers of this Griffin, Blegent and Rivallo, who had obtained liis favour by their submission. The same year Tosty arrived on the Humber, from Flanders, with a fleet of sixty ships, and infested with piratical depredations those parts which were adjacent to the mouth of the river; but being quickly driven from the province by the joint force of the brothers, Edwin and Morcar, he set sail towards Scotland; where meeting with Harold Harfager king of Norway, then meditating an attack on England with three hundred ships, he put himself under his command. Both, then, with united forces, laid waste the country beyond the Humber; and falling on the brothers, reposing after their recent victory and suspecting no attack of the land, they first routed, and then shut them up in York. Harold, on hearing this, proceeded thither with all his forces, and, each nation making every possible exertion, a bloody encounter followed: but the English obtained the advantage, and put the Norwegians to flight. Yet, however reluctantly posterity may believe it, one single Norwegian for a long time delayed the triumph of so many, and such great men. For standing on the entrance of the bridge, which is called Standford Brigge, after having killed several of our party, he prevented the whole from passing over. Being invited to surrender, with the assurance that a man of such courage should experience the amplest clemency from the English, he derided those who entreated him; and immediately, with stern countenance, reproached the set of cowards who were unable to resist an individual. No one approaching nearer, as they thought it unadvisable to come to close quarters with a man who had desperately rejected every means of safety, one of the king's followers aimed an iron javelin at him from a distance; and transfixed him as he was boastfully flourishing about, and too incautious from his security, so that he yielded the victory to the English. The army immediately ​passing over without opposition, destroyed the dispersed and flying Norwegians. King Harfager and Tosty were slain; the king's son, with all the ships, was kindly sent back to his own country. Harold, elated by his successful enterprise, vouchsafed no part of the spoil to his soldiers. Wherefore many, as they found opportunity, stealing away, deserted the king, as he was proceeding to the battle of Hastings. For with the exception of his stipendiary and mercenary soldiers, he had very few of the people with him; on which account, circumvented by a stratagem of William's, he was routed, with the army he headed, after possessing the kingdom nine months and some days. The effect of war in this affair was trifling; it was brought about by the secret and wonderful counsel of God: since the Angles never again, in any general battle, made a struggle for liberty, as if the whole strength of England had fallen with Harold, who certainly might and ought to pay the penalty of his perfidy, even though it were at the hands of the most unwarlike people. Nor in saying this, do I at all derogate from the valour of the Normans, to whom I am strongly bound, both by my descent, and for the privileges I enjoy. Still those persons appear to me to err, who augment the numbers of the English, and underrate their courage; who, while they design to extol the Normans, load them with ignominy. A mighty commendation indeed! that a very warlike nation should conquer a set of people who were obstructed by their multitude, and fearful through cowardice! On the contrary, they were few in number and brave in the extreme; and sacrificing every regard to their bodies, poured forth their spirit for their country. But, however, as these matters await a more detailed narrrative, I shall now put a period to my second book, that I may return to my composition, and my readers to the perusal of it, with fresh ardour.
* ↑ This brief allusion to Macbeth rather disproves the historical accuracy of Shakespere. See the Saxon Chronicle.
* ↑ This seems the foundation of the fable of Emma and the Plough-shares: as the first apparent promulgator of it was a constant reader and amplifier of Malmesbury. See Ric. Divisiensis, MS. C. C. C. Cant. No. 339.
* ↑ "Eadsine was translated from Winchester to Canterbury in 1038. The Saxon Chronicle (p. 416) states, that he consecrated Edward, at Winchester, on Easter day, and before all people well admonished him."—Hardy.
* ↑ Eustace II, sumamed Aux Grenons. He succeeded his father, Eustace I, in 1049; and married, in 1050, Goda, daughter of king Ethelbert, and widow of Gauthier comte de Mantes, by whom he had no issue; but by his wife Ida he left three sons; Eustace, who succeeded him, Godefroi, created, in 1076, marquis d'Anvers by the emperor Henry IV, and afterwards due de Bouillon, was elected king of Jerusalem in 1099, (23rd July); and, dying 18th July, 1100, was succeeded by his brother Baudouin, comte d'Edesse.—Hardy.
* ↑ He means Dover; according to the Saxon Chronicle, from which he borrows the account. Eustace stopped at Canterbury to refresh himself, and his people, and afterwards set out for Dover.—Sax. Chron. page 421.
* ↑ Earl Godwin's second wife's name was Gytha. (Saxon Chron. and Flor. Wigorn.)–Hardy.
* ↑ Sweyn had debauched an abbess, and being enraged that he was not allowed to retain her as his wife, he fled to Flanders. Shortly after he returned, and intreated Bruno or Beorn to accompany him to the king, and to intercede for his pardon: but it should seem this was a mere pretence; as he forced him on ship-board, and then put him to death. V. Flor. Wigorn, a.d. 1049. Chron. Sax. a.d.. 1046, p. 419.
* ↑ "Pagi places the commencement of Gregory's papacy in May 1044, but Ughelli cites a charter in which the month of August, 1045, is stated to be in the first year of his pontificate. He was deposed at a council held at Sutri, on Christmas-day, a.d. 1046, for having obtained the holy see by simony. Mr. Sharpe remarks that Malmesbury's character of this pope is considered as apocryphal. Compare Rodul Glaber, lib. v. c. 5."—Hardy.
* ↑ "Steteruntque comæ, et vox faucibus hæsit."—Virgil, Æneid iii. 48.
* ↑ There are various stories of this kind in Gregory's Dialogues.
* ↑ The original is as follows: Filius Evandri Pallas, quern lancea Turni Militis occidit, more suo jacet hic. I am unable to say who was the author of this epigram, but it is not too hazardous to assert that it was not composed either by Ennius or by any other ancient poet.
* ↑ There seems no reason to doubt the truth of this circumstance, since the exhibition of the Siamese twins, the most extraordinary lusus naturæ that has occurred in the nineteenth century. Medical science, aided by comparative anatomy, has ascertained that the bodies of both man and the brute creation are susceptible of combinations—not usually occurring in the course of nature,—which in former times were thought impossible, and as such were universally disbelieve.
* ↑ Sometimes called St. Audry. She was abbess of Ely monastery. St. Werburga was patroness of Chester monastery.
* ↑ Archbishop of Canterbury, from a.d. 1006 to 1012. See Sax. Chronicle, pp. 402, 403.
* ↑ Bede, book iv, chap. 14. There are some MSS. which want this chapter. The former editor of Bede accounts for it very satisfactorily; stating that a very ancient MS. in the Cotton Collection has a note marking that a leaf was here wanting; and that those which want the chapter were transcripts of this imperfect MS.
* ↑ Acca, bishop of Hexham, a.d. 710, and a great friend of venerable Bede, who inscribed to him many of his works.
* ↑ Or Elbert. See b.i.c.i, p. 15.
* ↑ He was at the same time bishop of Worcester, and archbishop of York.
* ↑ See b.i.c.4, p. 78.
* ↑ Concerning St. Wistan, consult MSS. Harl. 2253. De Martyrio S. Wistani."—Hardy.
* ↑ Repton.
* ↑ Thought to be the Devil's Dyke, on Newmarket Heath.
* ↑ He was tied to a tree, and shot to death with arrows. Abbo Floriacensis.
* ↑ This boundary is said to have been formed by Canute, in consequence of his father Sweyn having been killed by St. Edmund in a vision for attempting to plunder his territory. See Malm, de Gest. Pontif. lib. ii. f. 136, b. edit. Lond.
* ↑ Faremoutier in Brie.
* ↑ Hist. Eccl. b. iii. c. 8, p. 122.
* ↑ In b.i.c.1, p. 15, it is said the compensation for their murder was made to their mother; but here she is called their sister, which is the general account. When it was left to her to estimate this compensation (i. e. their weregild), she asked as much land as her stag should compass, at one course, in the Isle of Thanet; where she founded the monastery of Minster. Vide W. Thorn, col. 1910, and Natale S. Mildrythæ (Saxonice), MS. Cott. Calig. A. xiv. 4.
* ↑ "Mild" gentle.
* ↑ In Shropshire.
* ↑ The Seven Sleepers were inhabitants of Ephesus; six were persons of some consequence, the seventh their servant. During the Decian persecution they retired to a cave, whence they despatched their attendant occasionally to purchase food for them. Decius, hearing this, ordered the mouth of the cave to be stopped up while the fugitives were sleeping. After a lapse of some hundred years, a part of the masonry at the mouth of the cave falling, the light flowing in awakened them. Thinking they had enjoyed a good night's rest, they despatched their servant to buy provision. He finds all appear strange in Ephesus, and a whimsical dialogue takes place, the citizens accusing him of having found hidden treasure, he persisting that he offered the current coin of the empire. At length the attention of the emperor is excited, and he goes in company with the bishop to visit them. They relate their story and shortly after expire. In consequence of the miracle they were considered as martyrs. See Capgrave, Legenda Nova.
* ↑ On the Norman conquest many English fled to Constantinople, where they were eagerly received by Alexius, and opposed to the Normans under Robert Guiscard. Orderic. Vitalis, p. 508.
* ↑ Victor II. succeeded Leo IX. in 1056, and died in 1057. Stephen or Frederic, brother of duke Godefroi, succeeded Victor II. on the second of August, 1057, and Nicolaus became pope in 1059.
* ↑ That is, of Malmesbury. This Elmer is not to be confoimded with Elmer or Ailmer prior of Canterbury.
* ↑ Died and was buried at St. Paul's. Sax. Chron. A. 1057.
* ↑ It is hardly necessary to observe, that the succession of William is one of the most obscure points in our history.
* ↑ Near Chichester.
* ↑ It was customary for the king to wear his crown on the solemn festivals of Easter, Whitsuntide, and Christmas: it being placed on his head in due form by the archbishop.
* ↑ "Westminster Abbey was consecrated on the 28th of December, 1065. Ailred of Rievaulx, in his Life of Edward, states that the church had been commenced some years before, in performance of a vow the king had made to go to Rome; but being dissuaded from it, he sent to the pope to obtain his dispensation from that journey; the pope granted it, on condition that Edward should, with the money he would have spent in that voyage, build a monastery in honour of St. Peter."—Hardy.
* ↑ The battle of Stanford-bridge was fought on the 25th of September, 1066. See Saxon. Chron. p. 440.
* ↑ What Malmesbury here relates is highly probable, from the shortness of the time which elapsed from William's landing, to the battle of Hastings,—only fifteen days. In this period, therefore, the intelligence was to be conveyed to York, and Harold's march into Sussex to be completed; of course few could accompany him, but such as were mounted.
* ↑ Will. Pictaviensis, to whom he seems here to allude, asserts that Harold had collected immense forces from all parts of England; and that Denmark had supplied him with auxiliaries also. But the circumstances mentioned in the preceding note show the absurdity of this statement.