# Chronicle of the Kings of England/Book 2/Chapter 10

CHAP. X.
Of king Ethelred and king Edmund. [a.d. 979—1017.]
In the year of our Lord's incarnation 979, Ethelred, son of Edgar and Elfthrida, obtaining the kingdom, occupied, rather than governed it for thirty-seven years. The career of his life is said to have been cruel in the beginning, wretched in the middle, and disgraceful in the end. Thus, in the murder to which he gave his concurrence, he was cruel; base in his ​flight, and effeminacy; miserable in his death. Dunstan, indeed, had foretold his worthlessness, having discovered it by a very filthy token: for when quite an infant, the bishops standing round, as he was immersed in the baptismal font, he defiled the sacrament by a natural evacuation: at which Dunstan, being extremely angered, exclaimed, "By God, and his mother, this will be a sorry fellow." I have read, that when he was ten years of age, hearing it noised abroad that his brother was killed, he so irritated his furious mother by his weeping, that not having a whip at hand, she beat the little innocent with some candles she had snatched up: nor did she desist, till herself bedewed him, nearly lifeless, with her tears. On this account he dreaded candles during the rest of his life, to such a degree that he would never suffer the light of them to be brought into his presence. The nobility being assembled by the contrivance of his mother, and the day appointed for Dunstan, in right of his see, to crown him, he, though he might be ill-affected to them, forbore to resist, being a prelate of mature age, and long versed in secular matters. But, when placing the crown on his head he could not refrain from giving vent with a loud voice, to that prophetic spirit which he had so deeply imbibed. "Since," said he, "thou hast aspired to the kingdom by the death of thy brother, hear the word of God; thus saith the Lord God: the sin of thy abandoned mother, and of the accomplices of her base design, shall not be washed out but by much blood of the wretched inhabitants; and such evils shall come upon the English nation as they have never suffered from the time they came to England until then." Nor was it long after, that is, in his third year, that seven piratical vessels came to Southampton, a port near Winchester, and having ravaged the coast fled back to the sea: this I think right to mention because many reports are circulated among the English, concerning these vessels.
A quarrel between the king and the bishop of Rochester had arisen from some unknown cause; in consequence of which he led an army against that city. It was signified to him by the archbishop, that he should desist from his fury, and not irritate St. Andrew, under whose guardianship that bishopric was; for as he was ever ready to pardon, so was he equally formidable to avenge. This simple mes​sage being held in contempt, he graced the intimation with money, and sent him a hundred pounds, as a bribe, that he should raise the siege and retire. He therefore took the money, retreated, and dismissed his army. Dunstan, astonished at his avarice, sent messengers to him with the following words, "Since you have preferred silver to God, money to the apostle, and covetousness to me; the evils which God has pronounced will shortly come upon you; but they will not come while I live, for this also hath God spoken." Soon after the death of this holy man, which was in the tenth year of his reign, the predictions speedily began to be fulfilled, and the prophecies to have their consummation. For the Danes infested every port, and made descents on all sides with great activity, so that it was not known where they could be opposed. But Siric, the second archbishop after Dunstan, advised that money should repel those whom the sword could not: thus a payment of ten thousand pounds satisfied the avarice of the Danes. This was an infamous precedent, and totally unworthy the character of men, to redeem liberty, which no violence can ever extirpate from a noble mind, by money. They now indeed abstained a short time from their incursions; but as soon as their strength was recruited by rest, they returned to their old practices. Such extreme fear had seized the Enghsh, that there was no thought of resistance: if any indeed, mindful of their ancient glory, made an attempt to oppose, or engage them, they were unsuccessful, from the multitude of their enemies, and the desertion of their allies. The leader of revolt was one Elfric, whom the king had appointed to command the fleet: he, instead of trying his fortune, as he ought, in a naval conflict, went over, on the night preceding the battle, a base deserter to the enemy, whom he had apprised, by messengers, what preparations to make; and though the king, for this perfidious crime, ordered his son's eyes to be put out, yet he returned again, and again deserted. All Northumbria being laid waste, the enemy was met in battle and worsted. London was besieged, but honourably defended by its citizens. In consequence, the besiegers, after suffering severely and despairing of taking the city, retired; and devastating the whole province to the eastward, compelled the king to pay a sum of money, ​amounting to sixteen thousand pounds. Moreover, hostages being given, he caused their king Anlaf to come to him, stood for him at the font, and soothing him with royal munificence, bound him by an oath that he should never return into England again. The evil however was not thus put to rest. For they could never provide against their enemies from Denmark, springing up afresh, like the heads of the hydra. The province in the west of England, called Devonshire, was laid waste; the monasteries destroyed; and the city of Exeter set on fire: Kent was given up to plunder; the metropolitan city and seat of the patriarchs, burnt; the holy patriarch himself, the most reverend Elphege, carried away and bound in chains: and at last, when required to plunder his tenants in order to ransom himself, and refusing to do so, he was stoned, struck with a hatchet, and glorified heaven with his soul. After he was murdered, God exalted him; insomuch, that when the Danes, who had been instrumental to his death, saw that dead wood besmeared with his blood miraculously grew green again in one night, they ran eagerly to kiss his remains, and to bear them on their shoulders. Thus they abated their usual pride, and suffered his sacred corpse to be carried to London. There it was honorably buried; and when taken up, ten years afterwards, free from every taint of corruption, it conferred honour on his cathedral at Canterbury. To the present moment both its blood remains fresh, and its soundness unimpaired, and it is considered a miracle, that a carcass should be divested of life, and yet not decay. That I may not be tedious in mentioning severally all the provinces which the Danes laid waste, let it be briefly understood, that out of thirty-two counties, which are reckoned in England, they had already overrun sixteen; the names of which I forbear to enumerate on account of the harshness of the language. In the meantime, the king, admirably calculated for sleeping, did nothing but postpone and hesitate, and if ever he recovered his senses enough to raise himself upon his elbow, he quickly relapsed into his original wretchedness, either from the oppression of indolence, or the adverseness of fortune. His brother's ghost also, demanding dire expiation, tormented him. Who can tell how often he collected his ​army? how often he ordered ships to be built? how frequently he called out commanders from all quarters? and yet nothing was ever effected. For the army, destitute of a leader and ignorant of military discipline, either retreated before it came into action, or else was easily overcome. The presence of the leader is of much avail in battle; courage manifested by him avails also; experience, and more especially, discipline avail much; and as I have said, the want of these, in an army, must be an irreparable injury to its countrymen, as well as a pitiable object of contempt to an enemy. For soldiers are a kind of men, who, if not restrained before the battle, are eager to plunder; and if not animated during it, are prone to flight. When the ships, built for the defence of the sea-coast, were lying at anchor, a tempest suddenly arising dashed them together, and rendered them useless by the destruction of their tackling: a few, fitted from the wrecks of the others, were, by the attack of one Wulnod, whom the king had banished, either sunk, or burnt, and consequently disappointed the expectations of all England. The commanders, if ever they met to confer, immediately chose different sides, and rarely or never united in one good plan; for they gave more attention to private quarrels, than to public exigences: and, if in the midst of pressing danger, they had resolved on any eligible secret design, it was immediately communicated to the Danes by traitors. For besides Elfric, the successor of Elfere who had murdered the late king, there was one Edric, a man infamously skilled in such transactions, whom the king had made governor of the Mercians. This fellow was the refuse of mankind, the reproach of the English; an abandoned glutton, a cunning miscreant; who had become opulent, not by nobility, but by specious language and impudence. This artful dissembler, capable of feigning anytliing, was accustomed, by pretended fidelity, to scent out the king's designs, that he might treacherously divulge them. Often, when despatched to the enemy as the mediator of peace, he inflamed them to battle. His perfidy was sufiiciently conspicuous in this king's reign, but much more so in the next; of which I shall have occasion to speak hereafter. Ulfkytel, earl of the East Angles, was the only person who, at that time, resisted the invaders with any degree of spirit; inso​much that although the enemy had nominally the victory, yet the conquerors suffered much more than the conquered: nor were the barbarians ashamed to confess this truth, while they so frequently bewailed that victory. The valour of the earl was more conspicuously eminent, after the death of Ethelred, in that battle which mowed down the whole flower of the province; where, when he was surrounded from the rear, deeming it disgraceful to fly, he gave fresh confidence to the king by his blood; but this happened some time after. At this juncture, that the measure of king Ethelred's misery might be full, a famine ravaged all England, and those whom war had spared perished from want. The enemy over-ran the country with such freedom, that they would carry off their booty to their ships through a space of fifty miles, without fearing any resistance from the inhabitants. In the midst of these pressing evils, the expedient of buying off hostilities by money was again debated and adopted; for first twenty-four, and soon after, thirty thousand pounds were given to the Danes: with what advantage, succeeding times will show. To me, indeed, deeply reflecting upon the subject, it seems wonderful, how a man, as we have been taught to suppose, neither very foolish, nor excessively heartless, should pass his life in the wretched endurance of so many calamities. Should any one ask me the reason of this, I could not easily answer, except by saying, that the revolt of the generals proceeded from the haughtiness of the king. Their perfidy has been spoken of before: I now hasten to instances of his violence, which was so intolerable, that he spared not even his own relations. For, besides the English, whom he despoiled of their hereditary possessions without any cause, or defrauded of their property for supposititious crimes: besides the Danes, whom, from light suspicion only, he ordered to be all butchered on the same day throughout England; which was a dreadful spectacle to behold; each one compelled to betray his dearest guests, now become dearer from the tenderest connexions of ​affinity, and to cut sliort tlieir embraces with the sword: yet besides all this, I say, he was so inconstant towards his wife, that he scarcely deigned her his bed, and degraded the royal dignity by his intercourse with harlots. She too, a woman, conscious of her high descent, became indignant at her husband, as she found herself endeared to him neither by her blameless modesty nor her fruitfulness; for she had borne him two children, Elfred and Edward. She was the daughter of Richard, earl of Normandy, the son of William, who, after his father, presided over that earldom for fifty-two years, and died in the twenty-eighth year of this king. He lies at the monastery of Fescamp, which he augmented with certain revenues, and which he adorned with a monastic order, by means of William, formerly abbat of Dijon. Richard was a distinguished character, and had also often harassed Ethelred: which, when it became known at Rome, the holy see, not enduring that two Christians should be at enmity, sent Leo, bishop of Treves, into England, to restore peace: the epistle describing this legation was as follows:—
"John the fifteenth, pope of the holy Roman church, to all faithful people, health. Be it known to all the faithful of the holy mother church, and our children spiritual and secular, dispersed through the several climates of the world, that inasmuch as we had been informed by many of the enmity between Ethelred, king of the West-Saxons, and Richard the marquis, and were grieved sorely at this, on account of our spiritual chikben ; taking, therefore, wholesome counsel, we summoned one of our legates, Leo, bishop of the holy church of Treves, and sent him with our letters, admonishing them, that they should return from their ungodliness. He, passing vast spaces, at length crossed the sea, and, on the day of the Lord's nativity, came into the presence of the said king; whom, having saluted on our part, he delivered to him the letters we had sent. And all the faithful people of liis kingdom, and senators of either order, being summoned, he granted, for love and fear of God Almighty, and of St. Peter, the chief of the apostles, and on account of our paternal admonition, the firmest peace for all his sons and daughters, present and future, and all his faithful people, without deceit. On which account he sent Edelsin, prelate of the holy church of Sherborne, and Leofstan, son of Alf​wold, and Edelnoth, son of Wulstan, who passed the maritime boundaries, and came to Richard, the said marquis. He, peaceably receiving our admonitions, and hearing the determination of the said king, readily confirmed the peace for his sons and daughters, present and future, and for all his faithful people, with this reasonable condition, that if any of their subjects, or they themselves, should commit any injustice against each other, it should be duly redressed; and that peace should remain for ever unshaken and confirmed by the oath of both parties: on the part of king Ethelred, to wit, Edelsin, prelate of the holy church of Sherborne; Leofstan, the son of Alfwold; Edelnoth, the son of Wulstan. On the part of Richard, Roger, the bishop; Rodolph, son of Hugh; Truteno, the son of Thurgis.
"Done at Rouen, on the kalends of March, in the year of our Lord 991, the fourth of the indiction. Moreover, of the king's subjects, or of his enemies, let Richard receive none, nor the king of his, without their respective seals."
After the death of this John, Gregory succeeded; after whom came John XVI.; then Silvester, also called Gerbert, about whom it will not be absurd, in my opinion, if I commit to writing those facts which are generally related about him. Born in Gaul, from a lad he grew up a monk at Flory; afterwards, when he arrived at the double path of Pythagoras, either disgusted at a monastic life or seized by lust of glory, he fled by night into Spain, chiefly designing to learn astrology and other sciences of that description from the Saracens. Spain, formerly for many years possessed by the Romans, in the time of the emperor Honorius, fell under the power of the Goths. The Goths were Arians down to the days of St. Gregory, when that people were united to the Catholic church by Leander bishop of Seville, and by king Recared, brother of Hermengildus, whom his father ​slew on Easter night for professing the true faith. To Leander succeeded Isidore, celebrated for learning and sanctity, whose body purchased, for its weight in gold, Aldefonsus king of Gallicia in our times conveyed to Toledo. The Saracens, who had subjugated the Goths, being conquered in their turn by Charles the Great, lost Gallicia and Lusitania, the largest provinces of Spain; but to this day they possess the southern parts. As the Christians esteem Toledo, so do they hold Hispalis, which in common they call Seville, to be the capital of the kingdom; there practising divinations and incantations, after the usual mode of that nation. Gerbert then, as I have related, coming among these people, satisfied his desires. There he surpassed Ptolemy with the astrolabe, and Alcandraeus in astronomy, and Julius Firmicus in judicial astrology; there he learned what the singing and the flight of birds portended; there he acquired the art of calling up spirits from hell: in short, whatever, hurtful or salutary, human curiosity has discovered. There is no necessity to speak of his progress in the lawful sciences of arithmetic and astronomy, music and geometry, which he imbibed so thoroughly as to show they were beneath his talents, and which, with great perseverance, he revived in Gaul, here they had for a long time been wholly obsolete. Being certainly the first who seized on the abacus from the Saracens, ​he gave rules which are scarcely understood even by laborious computers. He resided with a certain philosopher of that sect, whose good will he had obtained, first by great liberality, and then by promises. The Saracen had no objection to sell his knowledge; he frequently associated with him; would talk with him of matters at times serious, at others trivial, and lend him books to transcribe. There was however one volume, containing the knowledge of his whole art, which he could never by any means entice him to lend. In consequence Gerbert was inflamed with anxious desire to obtain this book at any rate, "for we ever press more eagerly towards what is forbidden, and that which is denied is always esteemed most valuable." Trying, therefore, the effect of entreaty, he besought him for the love of God, and by his friendship; offered him many things, and promised him more. When this failed he tried a nocturnal stratagem. He plied him with wine, and, with the help of his daughter, who connived at the attempt through the intimacy which Gerbert's attentions had procured, stole the book from under his pillow and fled. Waking suddenly, the Saracen pursued the fugitive by the direction of the stars, in which art he was well versed. The fugitive too, looking back, and discovering his danger by means of the same art, hid himself under a wooden bridge which was near at hand; clinging to it, and hanging in such a manner as neither to touch earth nor water. In this manner the eagerness of the pursuer being eluded, he returned home. Gerbert, then quickening his pace, arrived at the sea-coast. Here, by his incantations, he called up the devil, and made an agreement with him to be under his dominion for ever, if he would defend him from the Saracen, who was again pursuing, and transport him to the opposite coast: this was accordingly done.
Probably some may regard all this as a fiction, because the vulgar are used to undermine the fame of scholars, saying that the man who excels in any admirable science, holds converse with the devil. Of this, Boethius, in his book. On ​the Consolation of Philosophy, complains; and affirms, that he had the discredit of such practices on account of his ardent love of literature, as if he had polluted his knowledge by detestable arts for the sake of ambition. "It was hardly likely," says he, "that I, whom you dress up with such excellence as almost to make me like God, should catch at the protection of the vilest spirits ; but it is in this point that we approach nearest to a connection with them, in that we are instructed in your learning, and educated in your customs." So far Boethius. The singular choice of his death confirms me in the belief of liis league with the devil; else, when dying, as we shall relate hereafter, why should he, gladiator-like, maim his own person, unless conscious of some unusual crime? Accordingly, in an old volume, which accidentally fell into my hands, wherein the names and years of all the popes are entered, I found written to the following purport, "Silvester, who was also called Gerbert, ten months; this man made a shameful end."
Gerbert, returning into Gaul, became a public professor in the schools, and had as brother philosophers and companions of his studies, Constantine, abbat of the monastery of St. Maximin, near Orleans, to whom he addressed the Rules of the Abacus; and Ethelbald bishop, as they say, of Winteburg, who himself gave proof of ability, in a letter which he wrote to Gerbert, on a question concerning the diameter in Macrobius, and in some other points. He had as pupils, of exquisite talents and noble origin, Robert, son of Hugh surnamed Capet; and Otho, son of the emperor Otho. Robert, afterwards king of France, made a suitable return to his master, and appointed him archbishop of Rheims. In that church are still extant, as proofs of his science, a clock constructed on mechanical principles: and an hydraulic organ, in which the air escaping in a surprising manner, by the force of heated water, fills the cavity of the instrument, and the brazen pipes emit modulated tones through the multifarious apertures. The king himself, too, was well skilled in sacred music, and in this and many other respects, a liberal benefactor to the church: moreover, he composed that beautiful sequence, "The grace of the Holy Spirit be with ​us;" and the response, "He hath joined together Judah and Jerusalem;" together with more, which I should have pleasure in relating, were it not irksome to others to hear. Otho, emperor of Italy after his father, made Gerbert archbishop of Ravenna, and finally Roman pontiff. He followed up his fortune so successfully by the assistance of the devil, that he left nothing unexecuted which he had once conceived. The treasures formerly buried by the inhabitants, he discovered by the art of necromancy, and removing the rubbish, applied to his own lusts. Thus viciously disposed are the wicked towards God, and thus they abuse his patience, though he had rather that they repent than perish. At last, he found where his master would stop, and as the proverb says, "in the same manner as one crow picks out another crow's eyes," while endeavouring to oppose his attempts with art like his own.
There was a statue in the Campus Martius near Rome, I know not whether of brass or iron, having the forefinger of the right hand extended, and on the head was written, "Strike here." The men of former times supposing this should be understood as if they might find a treasure there, had battered the harmless statute by repeated strokes of a hatchet. But Gerbert convicted them of error by solving the problem in a very different manner. Marking where the shadow of the finger fell at noon-day, when the sun was on the meridian, he there placed a post; and at night proceeded thither, attended only by a servant carrying a lanthorn. The earth opening by means of his accustomed arts, displayed to them a spacious entrance. They see before them a vast palace with golden walls, golden roofs, every thing of gold; golden soldiers amusing themselves, as it were, with golden dice; a king of the same metal, at table with his queen; delicacies set before them, and servants waiting ; vessels of great weight and value, where the sculpture surpassed nature herself In the inmost part of the mansion, a carbuncle of the first quality, though small in appearance, dispelled the darkness of night. In the opposite corner stood a boy, holding a bow bent, and the arrow drawn to the head. While the exquisite art of every thing ravished the eyes of the spectators, there was nothing which might be handled though it might be seen: for immediately, if any one stretched forth his hand ​to touch any thing, all these figures appeared to rush forward and repel such presumption. Alarmed at this, Gerbert repressed his inclination: but not so the servant. He endeavoured to snatch off from a table, a knife of admirable workmanship; supposing that in a booty of such magnitude, so small a theft could hardly be discovered. In an instant, the figures all starting up with loud clamour, the boy let fly his arrow at the carbuncle, and in a moment all was in darkness; and if the servant had not, by the advice of his master, made the utmost despatch in throwing back the knife, they would have both suffered severely. In this manner, their boundless avarice unsatiated, they departed, the lantern directing their steps. That he performed such things by unlawful devices is the generally received opinion. Yet, however, if any one diligently investigate the truth, he will see that even Solomon, to whom God himself had given wisdom, was not ignorant of these arts: for, as Josephus relates, he, in conjunction with his father, buried vast treasures in coffers, which were hidden, as he says, in a kind of necromantic manner, under ground: neither was Hyrcanus, celebrated for his skill in prophecy and his valour; who, to ward off the distress of a siege, dug up, by the same art, three thousand talents of gold from the sepulchre of David, and gave part of them to the besiegers; with the remainder building an hospital for the reception of strangers. But Herod, who would make an attempt of the same kind, with more presumption than knowledge, lost in consequence many of his attendants, by an eruption of internal fire. Besides, when I hear the Lord Jesus saying, "My father worketh hitherto, and I work;" I believe, that He, who gave to Solomon power over demons to such a degree, as the same historian declares, that he relates there were men, even in his time, who could eject them from persons possessed, by applying to the nostrils of the patient a ring having the impression pointed out by Solomon: I believe, I say, that he could give, also, the same science to this man: but I do not affirm that he did give it.
But leaving these matters to my readers, I shall relate what I recollect having heard, when I was a boy, from a certain monk of our house, a native of Aquitaine, a man in ​years, and a physician by profession. "When I was seven years old," said he, "despising the mean circumstances of my father, a poor citizen of Barcelona, I surmounted the snowy Alps, and went into Italy. There, as was to be expected in a boy of that age, having to seek my daily bread in great distress, I paid more attention to the food of my mind than of my body. As I grew up I eagerly viewed many of the wonders of that country and impressed them on my memory. Among others I saw a perforated mountain, beyond which the inhabitants supposed the treasures of Octavian were hidden. Many persons were reported to have entered into these caverns for the purpose of exploring them, and to have there perished, being bewildered by the intricacy of the ways. But, as hardly any apprehension can restrain avaricious minds from their intent, I, with my companions, about twelve in number, meditated an expedition of this nature, either for the sake of plunder, or through curiosity. Imitating therefore the ingenuity of Daedalus, who brought Theseus out of the labyrinth by a conducting clue, we, also carrying a large ball of thread, fixed a small post at the entrance. Tying the end of the thread to it, and lighting lanterns, lest darkness, as well as intricacy, should obstruct us, we unrolled the clue; and fixing a post at every mile, we proceeded on our journey along the caverns of the mountain, in the best manner we were able. Every thing was dark, and full of horrors; the bats, flitting from holes, assailed our eyes and faces: the path was narrow, and made dreadful on the left-hand by a precipice, with a river flowing beneath it. We saw the way strewed with bare bones: we wept over the carcasses of men yet in a state of putrefaction, who, induced by hopes similar to our own, had in vain attempted, after their entrance, to return. After some time, however, and many alarms, arriving at the farther outlet, we beheld a lake of softly murmuring waters, where the wave came gently rolling to the shores. A bridge of brass united the opposite banks. Beyond the bridge were seen golden horses of great size, mounted by golden riders, and all those other things which are related of Gerbert. The mid-day beams of Phoebus darting upon them, with redoubled splendour, dazzled the eyes of the beholders. Seeing these things at a distance, we should have been delighted with a nearer view, ​meaning, if fate would permit, to carry off some portion of the precious metal. Animating each other in turn, we prepared to pass over the lake. All our efforts, however, were vain: for as soon as one of the company, more forward than the rest, had put his foot on the hither edge of the bridge, immediately, wonderful to hear, it became depressed, and the farther edge was elevated, bringing forward a rustic of brass with a brazen club, with which, dashing the waters, he so clouded the air, as completely to obscure both the day and the heavens. The moment the foot was withdrawn, peace was restored. The same was tried by many of us, with exactly the same result. Despairing, then, of getting over, we stood there some little time; and, as long as we could, at least glutted our eyes with the gold. Soon after returning by the guidance of the thread, we found a silver dish, which being cut in pieces and distributed in morsels only irritated the thirst of our avidity without allaying it. Consulting together the next day, we went to a professor, of that time, who was said to know the unutterable name of God. When questioned, he did not deny his knowledge, adding, that, so great was the power of that name, that no magic, no witchcraft could resist it. Hiring him at a great price, fasting and confessed, he led us, prepared in the same manner, to a fountain. Taking up some water from it in a silver vessel, he silently traced the letters with his fingers, until we understood by our eyes, what was unutterable with our tongues. We then went confidently to the mountain, but we found the farther outlet beset, as I believe, with devils, hating, forsooth, the name of God because it was able to destroy their inventions. In the morning a Jew-necromancer came to me, excited by the report of our attempt; and, having inquired into the matter, when he heard of our want of enterprise, "You shall see," said he, venting his spleen with loud laughter, "how far the power of my art can prevail." And immediately entering the mountain, he soon after came out again, bringing, as a proof of his having passed the lake, many things which I had noted beyond it: indeed some of that most precious dust, which turned every thing that it touched into gold: not that it was really so, but only retained this appearance until washed with water; for nothing effected by necromancy can, when put into water, deceive the sight ​of the beholders. The truth of my assertion is confirmed by a circumstance which happened about the same time.
"There were in a public street leading to Rome, two old women, the most drunken and filthy beings that can be conceived; both living in the same hut, and both practising witchcraft. If any lone stranger happened to come in their way, they used to make him appear either a horse, or a sow, or some other animal; expose him for sale to dealers, and gluttonize with the money. By chance, on a certain night, taking in a lad to lodge who got his livelihood by stage-dancing, they turned him into an ass: and so possessed a creature extremely advantageous to their interests, who caught the eyes of such as passed by the strangeness of his postures. In whatever mode the old woman commanded, the ass began to dance, for he retained his understanding, though he had lost the power of speech. In this manner the women had accumulated much money; for there was, daily, a large concourse of people, from all parts, to see the tricks of the ass. The report of this induced a rich neighbour to purchase the quadruped for a considerable sum; and he was warned, that, if he would have him as a constant dancer, he must keep him from water. The person who had charge of him rigidly fulfilled his orders. A long time elapsed; the ass sometimes gratified his master by his reeling motions, and sometimes entertained his friends with his tricks. But, however, as in time all things surfeit, he began at length to be less cautiously observed. In consequence of this negligence, breaking his halter, he got loose, plunged into a pool hard by, and rolling for a long time in the water, recovered his human form. The keeper, inquiring of all he met, and pursuing him by the track of his feet, asked him if he had seen an ass; he replied that himself had been an ass, but was now a man: and related the whole transaction. The servant astonished told it to his master, and the master to pope Leo, the holiest man in our times. The old women were convicted, and confessed the fact. The pope doubting this, was assured by Peter Damian, a learned man, that it was not wonderful that such things should be done: he produced the example of Simon Magus, who caused Faustini​anus to assume the figure of Simon, and to become an object of terror to his sons, and thus rendered his holiness better skilled in such matters for the future."
I have inserted this narrative of the Aquitanian to the intent that what is reported of Gerbert should not seem wonderful to any person; which is, that he cast, for his own purposes, the head of a statue, by a certain inspection of the stars when all the planets were about to begin their courses, which spake not unless spoken to, but then pronounced the truth, either in the affirmative or negative. For instance, when Gerbert would say, "Shall I be pope?" the statute would reply, "Yes." "Am I to die, ere I sing mass at Jerusalem?" "No." They relate, that he was so much deceived by this ambiguity, that he thought nothing of repentance: for when would he think of going to Jerusalem, to accelerate his own death? Nor did he foresee that at Rome there is a church called Jerusalem, that is, "the vision of peace," because whoever flies thither finds safety, whatsoever crime he may be guilty of. We have heard, that this was called an asylum in the very infancy of the city, because Romulus, to increase the number of his subjects, had appointed it to be a refuge for the guilty of every description. The pope sings mass there on three Sundays, which are called "The station at Jerusalem." Wherefore upon one of those days Gerbert, preparing himself for mass, was suddenly struck with sickness; which increased so that he took to his bed: and consulting his statue, he became convinced of his delusion and of his approaching death. Calling, therefore, the cardinals together, he lamented his crimes for a long space of time. They, being struck with sudden fear were unable to make any reply, whereupon he began to rave, and losing his reason through excess of pain, commanded himself to be maimed, and cast forth piecemeal, saying, "Let him have the service of my limbs, who before sought their homage; for my mind never consented to that abominable oath."
And since I have wandered from my subject, I think it may not be unpleasant to relate what took place in Saxony ​in the time of this king, in the year of our Lord 1012, and is not so generally known. It is better to dilate on such matters than to dwell on Ethelred's indolence and calamities: and it will be more pleasing certainly, and nearer the truth, if I subjoin it in the original language of the person who was a sufferer, than if I had clothed it in my own words. Besides, I think it ornamental to a work, that the style should be occasionally varied.
"I Ethelbert, a sinner, even were I desirous of concealing the divine judgment which overtook me, yet the tremor of my limbs would betray me; wherefore I shall relate circumstantially how this happened, that all may know the heavy punishment due to disobedience. We were, on the eve of our Lord's nativity, in a certain town of Saxony, in which was the church of Magnus the martyr, and a priest named Robert had begun the first mass. I was in the churchyard with eighteen companions, fifteen men and three women, dancing, and singing profane songs to such a degree that I interrupted the priest, and our voices resounded amid the sacred solemnity of the mass. Wherefore, having commanded us to be silent, and not being attended to, he cursed us in the following words, 'May it please God and St. Magnus, that you may remain singing in that manner for a whole year.' His words had their effect. The son of John the priest seized his sister who was singing with us, by the arm, and immediately tore it from her body; but not a drop of blood flowed out. She also remained a whole year with us, dancing and singing. The rain fell not upon us; nor did cold, nor heat, nor hunger, nor thirst, nor fatigue assail us: we neither wore our clothes nor shoes, but we kept on singing as though we had been insane. First we sank into the ground up to our knees: next to our thighs; a covering was at length, by the permission of God, built over us to keep off the rain. When a year had elapsed, Herbert, bishop of the city of Cologne, released us from the tie wherewith our hands were bound, and reconciled us before the altar of St. Magnus. The daughter of the priest, with the other two women, died immediately; the rest of us slept three whole days and nights: some died afterwards, and are famed for miracles: the remainder betray their punishment by the trembling of ​their limbs. This narrative was given to us by the lord Peregrine, the successor of Herbert, in the year of our Lord 1013."
In that city, which formerly was called Agrippina, from Agrippa the son-in-law of Augustus, but afterwards named Colonia by the emperor Trajan, because being there created emperor he founded in it a colony of Roman citizens; in this city, I repeat, there was a certain bishop, famed for piety, though to a degree hideous in his person; of whom I shall relate one miracle, which he predicted when dying, after having first recorded what a singular chance elevated him to such an eminent station. The emperor of that country going to hunt on Quinquagesima Sunday, came alone, for his corn-companions were dispersed, to the edge of a wood, where this rural priest, deformed and almost a monster, had a church. The emperor, feigning himself a soldier, humbly begs a mass, which the priest immediately begins. The other in the meantime was revolving in his mind why God, from whom all beautiful things proceed, should suffer so deformed a man to administer his sacraments. Presently, when that verse in the tract occurred, "Know ye that the Lord himself is God," the priest looked behind him, to chide the inattention of an assistant, and said with a louder voice, as if in reply to the emperor's thoughts, "He made us; and not we ourselves." Struck with this expression, the emperor esteeming him a prophet, exalted him, though unwilling and reluctant, to the archbishopric of Cologne, which, when he had once assumed, he dignified by his exemplary conduct; kindly encouraging those who did well, and branding with the stigma of excommunication such as did otherwise, without respect of persons. The inhabitants of that place proclaim a multitude of his impartial acts; one of which the reader will peruse in that abbreviated form which my work requires. In a monastery of nuns in that city, there was a certain virgin who had there grown up, more by the kindness of her parents than through any innate wish for a holy life: this girl, by the attraction of her beauty and her affable language to all, allured many lovers; but while others, through fear of God or the censure of the world, restrained their desires, there was one who, excited to wantonness by the extent of his wealth and the nobility of his descent, ​broke through the bounds of law and of justice, and despoiled her of her virginity; and carrying her off kept her as his lawful wife. Much time elapsed while the abbess entreated, and his friends admonished him not to persevere in so dreadful a crime. Turning a deaf ear, however, to his advisers, he continued as immoveable as a rock. By chance at this time the prelate was absent, occupied in business at Rome; but on his return the circumstance was related to him. He commands the sheep to be returned to the fold directly; and after much altercation the woman was restored to the monastery. Not long after, watching an opportunity when the bishop was absent, she was again carried away. Excommunication was then denounced against the delinquent, so that no person could speak to, or associate with him. This, however, he held in contempt, and retired to one of his estates afar off, not to put the command in force, but to elude its power: and there, a turbulent and powerful man, he lived in company with his excommunicated paramour. But when it pleased God to take the bishop to himself, and he was lying in extreme bodily pain upon his bed, the neighbours flocked around him that they might partake the final benediction of this holy man. The offender alone not daring to appear, prevailed on some persons to speak for him. The moment the bishop heard his name he groaned, and then, I add his very words, spoke to the following effect, "If that wretched man shall desert that accursed woman, he shall be absolved; but if he persist, let him be ready to give account before God, the following year, at the very day and hour on which I shall depart: moreover, you will see me expire when the bell shall proclaim the sixth hour." Nor were his words vain; for he departed at the time which he had predicted; and the other, together with his mistress, at the expiration of the year, on the same day, and at the same hour, was killed by a stroke of lightning.
But king Ethelred, after the martyrdom of Elphege, as we have related, gave his see to a bishop named Living. Moreover, Turkill, the Dane, who had been the chief cause of the archbishop's murder, had settled in England, and held the East Angles in subjection. For the other Danes, exacting ​from the English a tribute of eight thousand pounds, had distributed themselves, as best suited their convenience, in the towns, or in the country; and fifteen of their ships, with the crews, had entered into the king's service. In the meantime Thurkill sent messengers to Sweyn, king of Denmark, inviting him to come to England; telling him that the land was rich and fertile, but the king a driveller; and that, wholly given up to wine and women, his last thoughts were those of war: that in consequence he was hateful to his own people and contemptible to foreigners: that the commanders were jealous of each other, the people weak, and that they would fly the field, the moment the onset was sounded.
Sweyn was naturally cruel, nor did he require much persuasion; preparing his ships, therefore, he hastened his voyage. Sandwich was the port he made, principally designing to avenge his sister Gunhilda. This woman, who possessed considerable beauty, had come over to England with her husband Palling, a powerful nobleman, and by embracing Christianity, had made herself a pledge of the Danish peace. In his ill-fated fury, Edric had commanded her, though proclaiming that the shedding her blood would bring great evil on the whole kingdom, to be beheaded with the other Danes. She bore her death with fortitude; and she neither turned pale at the moment, nor, when dead, and her blood exhausted, did she lose her beauty; her husband was murdered before her face, and her son, a youth of amiable disposition, was transfixed with four spears. Sweyn then proceeding through East Anglia against the Northumbrians, received their submission without resistance: not indeed, that the native ardour of their minds, which brooked no master, had grown cool, but because Utred, their prince, was the first to give example of desertion. On their submission all the other people who inhabit England on the north, gave him tribute and hostages. Coming southward, he compelled those of Oxford and Winchester, to obey his commands; the Londoners alone, protecting their lawful sovereign within their walls, shut their ​gates against him. The Danes, on the other hand, assailing with greater ferocity, nurtured their fortitude with the hope of fame; the townsmen were ready to rush on death for freedom, thinking they ought never to be forgiven, should they desert their king, who had committed his life to their charge. While the conflict was raging fiercely on either side, victory befriended the juster cause; for the citizens made wonderful exertions, every one esteeming it glorious to show his unwearied alacrity to his prince, or even to die for him. Part of the enemy were destroyed, and part drowned in the river Thames, because in their headlong fury, they had not sought a bridge. With his shattered army Sweyn retreated to Bath, where Ethelmer, governor of the western district, with his followers, submitted to him. And, although all England was already bending to his dominion, yet not even now would the Londoners have yielded, had not Ethelred withdrawn his presence from among them. For being a man given up to indolence, and, through consciousness of his own misdeeds, supposing none could be faithful to him, and at the same time wishing to escape the difficulties of a battle and a siege, he by his departure left them to their own exertions. However, they applied the best remedy they could to their exigencies, and surrendered after the example of their countrymen. They were men laudable in the extreme, and such as Mars himself would not have disdained to encounter, had they possessed a competent leader. Even while they were supported by the mere shadow of one, they risked every chance of battle, nay even a siege of several months' continuance. He in the meantime giving fresh instance of his constitutional indolence, fled from the city, and by secret journeys came to Southampton, whence he passed over to the Isle of Wight. Here he addressed those abbats and bishops who, even in such difficulties, could not bring themselves to desert their master, to the following effect: "That they must perceive in what dreadful state his affairs, and those of his family were; that he was banished from his paternal throne by the treachery of his generals, and that he, in whose hands their safety was formerly vested, now required the assistance of others; that though lately a monarch and a potentate, he was now an outcast and a fugitive; a melancholy change for him, because it certainly is more toler​able never to have had power, than to have lost it when possessed; and more especially disgraceful to the English, as this instance of deserting their prince would be noised throughout the world; that through mere regard to him they had exposed their houses and property to plunderers, and, unprovided, taken to a voluntary flight; food was matter of difficulty to all; many had not even clothing; he commended their fidelity indeed, but still could find no security from it; the country was now so completely subdued, the coast so narrowly watched, that there was no escape inattended with danger: that they should, therefore, confer together, what was to be done: were they to remain, greater peril was to be apprehended from their countrymen, than from their enemies, for perhaps they might purchase the favour of their new master by joining to distress them; and certainly to be killed by an enemy was to be ascribed to fortune, to be betrayed by a fellow citizen was to be attributed to want of exertion; were they to fly to distant nations, it would be with the loss of honour; if to those who knew them, the dread would be, lest their dispositions should take a tinge from their reverse of fortune; for many great and illustrious men had been killed on similar occasions; but, however, he must make the experiment, and sound the inclinations of Richard, duke of Normandy, who, if he should kindly receive his sister and nephews, might probably not unwillingly afford him his protection. His favour shown to my wife and children," continued he, "will be the pledge of my own security. Should he oppose me, I am confident, nay fully confident, I shall not want spirit to die here with honour, in preference to hving there with ignominy. Wherefore this very month of August, while milder gales are soothing the ocean, let Emma make a voyage to her brother, and take our children, our common pledges, to be deposited with him. Let their companions be the bishop of Durham and the abbat of Peterborough; I myself will remain here till Christmas, and should he send back a favourable answer, I will follow directly."
On the breaking up of the conference, all obeyed; they set sail for Normandy, while he remained anxiously expecting a favourable report. Shortly after he learned from abroad, that Richard had received his sister with great affection, and ​that he invited the king also to condescend to become his inmate. Ethelred, therefore, going into Normandy, in the month of January, felt his distresses soothed by the attentions of his host. This Richard was son of Richard the first, and equalled his father in good fortune and good qualities; though he certainly surpassed him in heavenly concerns. He completed the monastery at Feschamp, which his father had begun. He was more intent on prayer and temperance, than you would require in any monk, or hermit. He was humble to excess, in order that he might subdue by his patience, the petulance of those who attacked him. Moreover it is reported, that at night, secretly escaping the observation of his servants, he was accustomed to go unattended to the matins of the monks, and to continue in prayer till day-light. Intent on this practice, one night in particular, at Feschamp, he was earlier than customary, and finding the door shut, he forced it open with unusual violence, and disturbed the sleep of the sacristan. He, astonished at the noise of a person knocking in the dead of night, got up, that he might see the author of so bold a deed; and finding only a countryman in appearance, clothed in rustic garb, he could not refrain from laying hands on him; and, moved with vehement indignation, he caught hold of his hair, and gave this illustrious man a number of severe blows, which he bore with incredible patience, and without uttering a syllable. The next day, Richard laid his complaint before the chapter, and with counterfeited anger, summoned the monk to meet him at the town of Argens, threatening that, "he would take such vengeance for the injury, so that all France should talk of it." On the day appointed, while the monk stood by, almost dead with fear, he detailed the matter to the nobility, largely exaggerating the enormity of the transaction, and keeping the culprit in suspense, by crafty objections to what he urged in mitigation. Finally, after he had been mercifully judged by the nobility, he pardoned him; and to make his forgiveness more acceptable, he annexed all that town, with its appurtenances, reported to be abundant in the best wine, to the office of this sacristan: saying, "That he was an admirable monk, who ​properly observed his appointed charge, and did not break silence, though roused with anger." In the twenty-eighth year of his dukedom, he died, having ordered his body to be buried at the door of the church, where it would be subjected to the feet of such as passed by, and to the spouts of water which streamed from above. In our time, however, William, third abbat of that place, regarding this as disgraceful, removed the long-continued reproach, and taking up the body, placed it before the high altar. He had a brother, Robert, whom he made archbishop of Rouen, though by this he tarnished his reputation. For he, cruelly abusing this honour, at first, committed many crimes and many atrocious acts; but growing in years, he certainly wiped off some of them by his very liberal almsgiving. After Richard, his son of the same name obtained the principality, but lived scarcely a year. A vague opinion indeed has prevailed, that, by the connivance of his brother Robert, whom Richard the second begat on Judith, daughter of Conan, earl of Brittany, a certain woman, skilled in poisons, took the young man off. In atonement for his privity to this transaction he departed for Jerusalem, after the seventh year of his earldom; venturing on an undertaking very meritorious at that time, by commencing, with few followers, a journey, exposed to incursions of barbarians, and strange, by reason of the customs of the Saracens. He persevered nevertheless, and did not stop, but safely completed the whole distance, and purchasing admission at a high price, with bare feet, and full of tears, he worshipped at that glory of the Christians, the sepulchre of our Lord. Conciliating the favour of God, as we believe, by this labour, on his return homewards he ended his days at Nice, a city of Bithynia; cut off, as it is said, by poison. This was administered by his servant Ralph, surnamed Mowin, who had wrought himself up to the commission of this crime, from a hope of obtaining the dukedom. But on his return to Normandy, the matter becoming known to all, he was detested as a monster, and retired to perpetual exile. To Robert succeeded William, his son, then a child, of whom as I shall have to speak hereafter, I shall now return to my narrative.
In the meantime Sweyn, as I have before related, oppressed England with rapine and with slaughter: the in​habitants were first plundered of their property, and then proscribed. In every city it was matter of doubt what should be done: if revolt was determined on, they had none to take the lead; if submission was made choice of, they would have a harsh ruler to deal with. Thus their public and private property, together with their hostages, was carried to the fleet; as he was not a lawful sovereign, but a most cruel tyrant. The Deity, however, was too kind to permit England to fluctuate long in such keen distress, for the invader died shortly after, on the purification of St. Mary, though it is uncertain by what death. It is reported, that while devastating the possessions of St. Edmund, king and martyr, he appeared to him in a vision, and gently addressed him on the misery of his people; that on Sweyn's replying insolently, he struck him on the head; and that, in consequence of the blow, he died, as has been said, immediately after. The Danes then elected Canute, the son of Sweyn, king; while the Angles, declaring that their natural sovereign was dearer to them, if he could conduct himself more royally than he had hitherto done, sent for king Ethelred out of Normandy. He despatched Edward, his son, first, to sound the fidelity of the higher orders and the inclination of the people, on the spot; who, when he saw the wishes of all tending in his favour, went back in full confidence for his father. The king returned, and, being flattered by the joyful plaudits of the Angles, that he might appear to have shaken off his constitutional indolence, he hastened to collect an army against Canute, who was at that time in Lindsey, where his father had left him with the ships and hostages, and was levying fresh troops and horses, that, mustering a sufficient force, he might make a vigorous attack upon his enemies unprepared: vowing most severe vengeance, as he used to say, on the deserters. But, circumvented by a contrivance similar to his own, he retreated. Escaping at that time with much difficulty, and putting to sea with his remaining forces, he coasted the British ocean from east to south, and landed at Sandwich. Here, setting all divine and human laws at defiance, he mutilated his hostages, who were young men of great nobility and elegance, by depriving them ​of their ears, and nostrils, and some even of their manhood. Thus tyrannizing over the innocent, and boasting of the feat, he returned to his own country. In the same year the sea-flood, which the Greeks call Euripus, and we Ledo, rose to so wonderful a height, that none like it was recollected in the memory of man, for it overflowed the villages, and destroyed their inhabitants, for many miles.
The year following a grand council of Danes and English, was assembled at Oxford, where the king commanded two of the noblest Danes, Sigeferth, and Morcar, accused of treachery to him by the impeachment of the traitor Edric, to be put to death. He had lured them, by his soothing expressions, into a chamber, and deprived them, when drunk to excess, of their lives, by his attendants who had been prepared for that purpose. The cause of their murder was said to be, his unjustifiable desire for their property. Their dependants, attempting to revenge the death of their lords by arms, were worsted, and driven into the tower of St. Frideswide's church at Oxford, where, as they could not be dislodged, they were consumed by fire: however, shortly after, the foul stain was wiped out by the king's penitence, and the sacred place repaired. I have read the history of this transaction, which is deposited in the archives of that church. The wife of Sigeferth, a woman remarkable for her rank and beauty, was carried prisoner to Malmesbury; on which account, Edmund, the king's son, dissembling his intention, took a journey into those parts. Seeing her, he became enamoured; and becoming enamoured, he made her his wife; cautiously keeping their union secret from his father, who was as much an object of contempt to his family as to strangers. This Edmund was not born of Emma, but of some other person, whom fame has left in obscurity. With that exception, he was a young man in every respect of noble disposition; of great strength both of mind and person, and, on this account, by the English, called "Ironside:" he would have shrouded the indolence of his father, and the meanness of his mother, by his own conspicuous virtue, could the fates have spared him. Soon after, at the instigation of his wife, he asked of his father the ​possessions of Sigeferth, which were of large extent among the Northumbrians, but could not obtain them; by his own exertions, however, he procured them at last, the inhabitants of that province willingly submitting to his power.
The same summer Canute, having settled his affairs in Denmark, and entered into alliance with the neighbouring kings, came to England, determined to subdue it or perish in the attempt. Proceeding from Sandwich into Kent, and thence into West Saxony, he laid every thing waste with fire and slaughter, while the king was lying sick at Cosham. Edmund indeed attempted to oppose him, but being thwarted by Edric, he placed his forces in a secure situation. Edric, however, thinking it unnecessary longer to dissemble, but that he might, now, openly throw off the mask, revolted to Canute with forty ships, and all West Saxony following his example, delivered hostages, and gave up their arms. Yet the Mercians repeatedly assembling stood forward to resist: and if the king would but come, and command whither they were to march, and bring with him the leading men of London, they were ready to shed their blood for their country. But he, accustomed to commit his safety to fortifications, and not to attack the enemy, remained in London; never venturing out, for fear, as he said, of traitors. On the contrary, Canute was gaining towns and villages over to his party; and was never unemployed; for he held consultations by night, and fought battles by day. Edmund, after long deliberation, esteeming it best, in such an emergency, to recover, if possible, the revolted cities by arms, brought over Utred, an earl, on the other side of the Humber, to the same sentiments. They imagined too, that such cities as were yet doubtful which side to take, would determine at once, if they would only inflict signal vengeance on those which had revolted. But Canute, possessed of equal penetration, circumvented them by a similiar contrivance. Giving over the West Saxons and that part of Mercia which he had subjugated, to the custody of his generals, he proceeded himself against the Northumbrians; and, by depopulating the country, compelled Utred to retire, to defend his own possessions; and notwithstanding he surrendered himself, yet with inhuman levity he ordered him to ​be put to death. His earldom was given to Eric, whom Canute afterwards expelled England, because he pretended to equal power with himself. Thus all being subdued, he ceased not pursuing Edmund, who was gradually retreating, till he heard that he was at London with his father. Canute then remained quiet till after Easter, that he might attack the city with all his forces. But the death of Ethelred preceded the attempt: for in the beginning of Lent, on St. Gregory's day, he breathed out a life destined only to labours and misery: he lies buried at St. Paul's in London. The citizens immediately proclaimed Edmund king, who, mustering an army, routed the Danes at Penn, near Gillingham, about Rogation-day. After the festival of St. John, engaging them again at Sceorstan, he retired from a drawn-battle. The English had begun to give way, at the instance of Edric; who being on the adversaries' side, and holding in his hand a sword stained with the blood of a fellow whom he had dexterously slain, exclaimed, "Fly. wretches! fly! behold, your king was slain by this sword!" The Angles would have fled immediately, had not the king, apprised of this circumstance, proceeded to an eminence, and taking off his helmet, shown his face to his comrades. Then brandishing a dart with all his forces, he launched it at Edric; but being seen, and avoided, it missed him, and struck a soldier standing near; and so great was its violence, that it even transfixed a second. Night put a stop to the battle, the hostile armies retreating as if by mutual consent, though the English had well-nigh obtained the victory.
After this the sentiments of the West Saxons changed, and they acknowledged their lawful sovereign. Edmund proceeded to London, that he might liberate those deserving citizens whom a party of the enemy had blocked up immediately after his departure; moreover they had surrounded the whole city, on the parts not washed by the river Thames, with a trench; and many men lost their lives on both sides in the skirmishes. Hearing of the king's approach, they ​precipitately took to flight; while he pursuing directly, and passing the ford called Brentford, routed them with great slaughter. The remaining multitude which were with Canute, while Edmund was relaxing a little and getting his affairs in order, again laid siege to London both on the land and river side; but being nobly repulsed by the citizens, they wreaked their anger on the neighbouring province of Mercia, laying waste the towns and villages, with plunder, fire, and slaughter. The best of the spoil was conveyed to their ships assembled in the Medway; which river flowing by the city of Rochester, washes its fair walls with a strong and rapid current. They were attacked and driven hence also by the king in person; who suddenly seizing the ford, which I have before mentioned at Brentford, dispersed them with signal loss.
While Edmund was preparing to pursue, and utterly destroy the last remains of these plunderers, he was prevented by the crafty and abandoned Edric, who had again insinuated himself into his good graces; for he had come over to Edmund, at the instigation of Canute, that he might betray his designs. Had the king only persevered, this would have been the last day for the Danes; but misled by the insinuations of a traitor, who affirmed that the enemy would make no farther attempt, he brought swift destruction upon himself, and the whole of England. Being thus allowed to escape, they again assembled; attacked the East Angles, and, at Assandun, compelled the king himself, who came to their assistance, to retreat. Here again, the person I am ashamed to mention so frequently, designedly gave the first example of flight. A small number, who, mindful of their former fame, and encouraging each other, had formed a compact body, were cut off to a man. On this field of battle Canute gained the kingdom; the glory of the Angles fell; and the whole flower of the country withered. Amongst these was Ulfkytel, earl of East Anglia, who had gained immortal honour in the time of Sweyn, when first attacking the pirates, he showed that they might be overcome: here ​fell, too, the chief men of the day, both bishops and abbats, Edmund flying hence almost alone, came to Gloucester, in order that he might there re-assemble his forces, and attack the enemy, indolent, as he supposed, from their recent victory. Nor was Canute wanting in courage to pursue the fugitive. When everything was ready for battle, Edmund demanded a single combat; that two individuals might not, for the lust of dominion, be stained with the blood of so many subjects, when they might try their fortune without the destruction of their faithful adherents: and observing, that it must redound greatly to the credit of either to have obtained so vast a dominion at his own personal peril. But Canute refused this proposition altogether; affirming that his courage was surpassing, but that he was apprehensive of trusting his diminutive person against so bulky an antagonist: wherefore, as both had equal pretensions to the kingdom, since the father of either of them had possessed it, it was consistent with prudence that they should lay aside their animosity, and divide England. This proposition was adopted by either army, and confirmed with much applause, both for its equity and its beneficent regard to the repose of the people who were worn out with continual suffering. In consequence, Edmund, overcome by the general clamour, made peace, and entered into treaty with Canute, retaining West Saxony himself and giving Mercia to the other. He died soon after on the festival of St. Andrew, though by what mischance is not known, and was buried at Glastonbury near his grandfather Edgar. Fame asperses Edric, as having, through regard for Canute, compassed his death by means of his servants: reporting that there were two attendants on the king to whom he had committed the entire care of his person, and, that Edric seducing them by promises, at length made them his accomplices, though at first they were struck with horror at the enormity of the crime; and that, at his suggestion, they drove an iron hook into his posteriors, as he was sitting down for a necessary ​purpose. Edwin, his brother on the mother's side, a youth of amiable disposition, was driven from England by Edric, at the command of Canute, and suffering extremely for a considerable time, "both by sea and land," his body, as is often the case, became affected by the anxiety of his mind, and he died in England, where he lay concealed after a clandestine return, and lies buried at Tavistock. His sons, Edwy and Edward, were sent to the king of Sweden to be put to death; but being preserved by his mercy, they went to the king of Hungary, where, after being kindly treated for a time, the elder died; and the younger married Agatha, the sister of the queen. His brothers by Emma, Alfred and Edward, lay securely concealed in Normandy for the whole time that Canute lived.
I find that their uncle Richard took no steps to restore them to their country: on the contrary, he married his sister Emma to the enemy and invader; and it may be difficult to say, whether to the greater ignominy of him who bestowed her, or of the woman who consented to share the nuptial couch of that man who had so cruelly molested her husband, and had driven her children into exile. Robert, however, whom we have so frequently before mentioned as having gone to Jerusalem, assembling a fleet and embarking soldiers, made ready an expedition, boasting that he would set the crown on the heads of his grand-nephews; and doubtlessly he would have made good his assertion, had not, as we have heard from our ancestors, an adverse wind constantly opposed him: but assuredly this was by the hidden counsel of God, in whose disposal are the powers of all kingdoms. The remains of the vessels, decayed through length of time, were still to be seen at Rouen in our days.
* ↑ The life of Elphege, by Osberne, is in the Anglia Sacra, ii. 122.
* ↑ Ulfkytel attacked the Danes near Thetford, a.d. 1004, and though compelled to retreat, yet occasioned so severe a loss to the enemy, that they are said to have acknowledged that they had never endured a more powerful attack. See Flor. Wigorn., and the Saxon Chronicle, a.d. 1004.
* ↑ At Assingdon in Essex, a.d. 1016.
* ↑ In several of the manuscripts there is an omission of several words which has made nonsense of the whole paragraph. Its restoration is due to Mr. Hardy, in whose edition of William of Malmesbury it is given correctly from MS. authority.
* ↑ That is, when he had attained that age when a man settles, or chooses his future line of conduct; or, to years of discretion. This Pythagoras represented by the form of the letter Y, or the Greek gamma.
* ↑ Hermenegild the eldest son of Leovigild. He was invested by his father with the royal diadem and the principality of Boetica, and contracted an alliance with Ingundis, daughter of Sigebert, king of Austrasia. Ingundis was persecuted, and at length killed by her husband's mother, on account of her Catholic faith. Leander, archbishop of Seville, easily persuaded Hermenegild to resent the treatment of his bride, and assisted him in an attempt to dethrone his father. Hermenegild was taken and sentenced to death for his rebellion. The inflexible constancy, with which he refused to accept the Arian communion, from which he had been converted by Leander, as the price of his safety, procured for him the honour of being enrolled among the saints of the Romish church.—Hardy.
* ↑ Isidore was bishop of Seville in the sixth century.
* ↑ An instrument for making celestial observations. The reader who is conversant with the Arabian Nights' Entertainments will remember its being frequently mentioned in that amusing book.
* ↑ The abacus was a counting table: here it seems used metaphorically for arithmetic, Gerbert having written a treatise on arithmetic with that title. The authors of the Hist. Litt. de la France, t. vi. understand him literally, as stealing a book containing the principles of the science, and then confound this supposed book with the conjuring treatise mentioned below. They also seem very much displeased with Malmesbury for relating these tales of their countryman, and attribute them to cardinal Benno; but there is nothing of this kind in his work published by Goldastus, and in Brown's Fasciculus, t. i.
* ↑ Ovid. Amor. iii. iv. 17.
* ↑ This was perhaps a necessary precaution, according to the rules of the necromantic art.
* ↑ His treatise so called.
* ↑ Macrob. in Somn. Scip. i. 20.
* ↑ Josephus Antiq. Jud. l. vii. c. 15. viii. 2.
* ↑ In the fabulous Itinerary of St. Peter, falsely attributed to Clemens Romanus, Simon is represented as causing Faustinianus to assume his countenance, by rubbing his face with a medicated unguent, to the great alarm of his sons, who mistook him for Simon, and fled until recalled by St. Peter.
* ↑ Other MSS. read Otbert.
* ↑ "Living, formerly called Elfstan, was translated from Wells to Canterbury in the year 1013; he died, 12th June, 1020."—Hardy.
* ↑ Malmesbury seems to have fallen into some confusion here. The murder of the Danes took place on St. Brice's day, a.d. 1002, and accordingly we find Sweyn infesting England in 1003 and the following year (see Saxon Chronicle): but this his second arrival took place, a.d. 1013: so that the avenging the murder of his sister Gunhilda could hardlv be the object of his present attack.
* ↑ Matins were sometimes performed shortly after midnight.
* ↑ It was customary to hold a chapter immediately after primes.
* ↑ Sweyn died Feb. 3, a.d. 1014.
* ↑ The monastery of St. Edmundbury.
* ↑ He here considers Ledo to imply the spring tide; but others say it means the neap, and express the former by Malina. See Du Cange.
* ↑ Corsham, in Wiltshire?
* ↑ March 12th, but the Saxon Chronicle says St. George's day, 23d April.
* ↑ In Somersetshire?
* ↑ Sceorstan is conjectured to be near Chipping Norton.—Sharp. Supposed to be a stone which divided the four counties of Oxford, Gloucester, Worcester and Warwick.—Hardy.
* ↑ He passed the Thames at Brentford, followed them into Kent, and defeated them at Aylesford. Saxon Chron.
* ↑ Thought to be either Assingdon, Ashdown in Essex, or Aston in Berkshire.
* ↑ Henry Huntingdon says they actually engaged, and that Canute finding himself likely to be worsted, proposed the division. — H. Hunt. l. 6.
* ↑ "Florence of Worcester and the Saxon Chronicle place his death on the 30th of November, 1016. Florence, however, adds the year of the indiction, which corresponds with a.d. 1017."—Hardy.