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EARLY CHRONICLERS OF EUROPE, 
 
 ENGLAN D. 
 
 / BY 
 JAMES GAIRDNER, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE LIFE AND REIGN OF RICHARD III. 
 "THE HOUSES OF LANCASTER AND YORK," ETC. 
 
 ■PUBLISHED UNDER THE DIRECTION OF THE COMMITTEE 
 
 OF GENERAL LITERATURE AND EDUCATION APPOINTED BY THE 
 
 SOCIETy FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE, 
 NORTHUMBERLAND AVENUE, CHARING CROSS, W.C. ; 
 43, queen victoria street, e.c. ; 
 26, st. george's place, hyde park corner, s.w. 
 
 BRIGHTON : 135, north street. 
 New York : E. & J. B. YOUNG AND CO. 
 

 2. osn 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 THIS volume is one of a series intended to 
 popularise the sources of mediaeval history, and 
 is specially devoted to the chronicles of our own 
 country. With such an object it is neither possible 
 nor desirable to give an exhaustive account of all 
 our early historians ; but a selection has been made 
 of those writers whose style is most characteristic 
 and whose works are best adapted for quotation. 
 It is for these qualities rather than for their intrinsic 
 value as original authorities that occasionally some 
 of the minor chronicles have been treated at con- 
 siderable length, while greater and more important 
 works have been barely mentioned or have even 
 been passed over in silence. No attempt, in fact, 
 has been made to preserve proportion as between 
 one writer and another ; but it is hoped that some 
 general idea both of the wealth of mediaeval 
 writings illustrative of English history and of their 
 
iv $wface. 
 
 great variety of character may be obtained from a 
 perusal of these pages. 
 
 It is almost needless to say that- this work does 
 not profess to be the fruit of great original research. 
 In such a large field it is impossible not to be 
 guided to a very considerable extent by the eyes of 
 others ; and in many instances it will be seen that 
 the author has acknowledged his obligations in the 
 text. No mention, however, has been made of one 
 modern writer to whose work he has been indebted 
 in some portion of Chapter III. ; and he takes this 
 opportunity of referring to Mr. Morison's valuable 
 Life and Times of St. Bernard. 
 
 A large number of the old English chronicles 
 have in our day been rendered very accessible in 
 the series of cheap English translations published 
 by Bohn. These versions are of unequal merit ; 
 but their publication is certainly a great boon to 
 that reading public who desire to be made better 
 acquainted with the chronicles of the Middle Ages. 
 The extracts in the present volume are occasionally 
 derived from Bohn's translations ; but in many 
 cases the author has thought it better to supply 
 a translation of his own. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 OUR EARLIEST HISTORIANS. 
 
 Gildas on the destruction of Britain — Bede's account of the 
 conversion of England to Christianity — Pope Gregory and 
 the English slaves at Rome — King Edwin's consultation 
 with his councillors about embracing Christianity — Paulinus 
 made Bishop of York —King Edwin's good government — 
 Abbey of Whitby — Story of Csedmon — Bede's other 
 writings — Account of his death — Supernatural stories in 
 Bede — Asser's Life of Alfred the Greats- Questions about 
 the text — Interpolations — The story of Alfred and the 
 cakes — How Alfred learned to read — How he divided 
 his time 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 RECORDS OF THE MONKS. 
 
 The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle — Influence of the Norman Conquest 
 — Chronicle of Battle Abbey — How monasteries fostered 
 literature and civilization — Plorence of Worcester — Ead- 
 
vi ©ontentg. 
 
 mer — His account of St Anselm — William of Malmesbury 
 — Extracts touching the effects of the Conquest — The First 
 Crusade — Robert of Normandy and Henry I. — The Gesta 
 Stephani — Early report of a debate in the king's council — 
 Extract touching Bristol and Bath — The Empress Maud — 
 Henry of Huntingdon — Ordericus Vitalis .... 49 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 NEW MONASTIC ORDERS — THE CRUSADES. 
 
 Religious revival in Europe — New orders of monks practising 
 austerity — The Cluniacs — Carthusians — Cistercians — St 
 Bernard — His love of nature — Richard of Devizes — 
 Massacre of the Jews at Richard I.'s coronation — Alleged 
 crucifixion of a boy by the Jews of Winchester — Crusade 
 of Richard L, and state of the kingdom in his absence — 
 Expulsion of the monks of Coventry by Bishop Hugh de 
 Nonant — Joceline of Brakeland's account of the monastery 
 of St. Edmundsbury under Abbot Sampson — Description 
 of the abbot — Disputes between the monastery and the 
 burgesses — Privileges claimed against the archbishop — 
 Abbot Sampson's journey to Rome — He holds his own 
 against the king— Customs and privileges of the monastery 
 — Dispute with the monks of Ely 109 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 IMAGINATIVE AND SOBER HISTORY — WELSH AND 
 NORTHERN WRITERS. 
 
 Robert of Gloucester's patronage of literature — Geoffrey of 
 Monmouth's History of the Kings of Britain — Its popularity 
 — Its apocryphal character and extraordinary legends— 
 Their acceptance as history — Clergymen more witty than 
 monks — William of Newburgh denounces Geoffrey's J7is- 
 tory — Giraldus Cambrensis also — Credulity of Giraldus — 
 His account of his birth-place — His family and personal 
 history— His election to St David's — Goes to Ireland 
 
@ontent& vii 
 
 PAGB 
 
 with Prince John — His Topographia Hibernuz — His Vatici- 
 nal History of the Conquest of Ireland. — Description of 
 Henry II. — Itinerary through Wales— Character of the 
 North of England historians — Simeon of Durham— Ailred 
 of Rievaulx — William of Newburgh— Roger of Hoveden — 
 Chronicle of Melrose— Walter Hemingburgh— The Chro- 
 nicle of Lanercost . » . , . . . .155 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 RECORDS OF THE FRIARS. 
 
 Actual results of the Crusades injurious to Christian faith and 
 morals — St. Dominic and the Preaching Friars — The 
 Albigenses — St. Francis — The Eastern leprosy — Devotion 
 of the Franciscans — Thomas of Eccleston's account of their 
 settlement in England — Anecdotes — Aquinas and the 
 Schoolmen — Trivet's Annales — Stubbs's Archbishops of 
 York — Franciscan Schoolmen — Roger Bacon, Scotus, 
 Occam . . 199 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE ST. ALBAN'S HISTORIANS AND LATER 
 MONASTIC CHRONICLES. 
 
 Diminution in the number of monastic chronicles — Com- 
 pensated at first by minuteness of detail — Position of St 
 Alban's as a centre of news — First formation of the scrip- 
 torium at St. Alban's — Roger of Wendover — Plan of his 
 chronicle — His account of the papal interdict — Matthew 
 Paris — His character as an historian — Extracts from his 
 chronicle — William Rishanger — Trivet's account of 
 Edward I. transcribed by him — Other continuators of 
 Matthew Paris — Thomas Walsingham — His account of 
 Wat Tyler's rebellion — Whethamstede's register — End 
 of the age of monastic chronicles — Higden's Polychronicon 
 — Trevisa — Caxton ...••••• 233 
 
viii ©onfcmtt. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 RECORDS OF THE CITY. 
 
 PAGF 
 
 The Liber de Antiquis Legibus — French Chronicle of London — 
 The Liber Albus — The Chronicle of London — Gregory's 
 Chronicle — Account of Jack Cade's rebellion — Adventures 
 of Margaret of Anjou — The Mayor of Bristol's Kalen-dar — 
 Fabyan's Concordance of Histories — More's History of 
 Richard III. — Extract — Shakespeare dramatized More's 
 works — Hardyng's Chronicle — Hall's Chronicle — Polydore 
 Vergil's History — Grafton's historical works — John Stow — 
 His Summary, his Chronicle, and his Survey of London — 
 Ireland — Holinshed's Chronicle— Sources of Shakespeare's 
 historical plays . . % > . . . 284 
 
EARLY CHRONICLERS OF EUROPE. 
 
 ENGLAND. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 OUR EARLIEST HISTORIANS. 
 
 Gildas on the destruction of Britain — Bede's account of the conver- 
 sion of England to Christianity — Pope Gregory and the English 
 slaves at Rome — King Edwin's consultation with his councillors 
 about embracing Christianity — Paulinus made Bishop of York — 
 King Edwin's good government — Abbey of Whitby — Story of 
 Csedmon — Bede's other writings — Account of his death — Super- 
 natural stories in Bede — Asser's Life of Alfred the Great — Ques- 
 tions about the text — Interpolations — The Story of Alfred and the 
 cakes — How Alfred learned to read — How he divided his time. 
 
 After the departure of the Romans from Britain, 
 the history of this island is for some time enveloped 
 in great obscurity, which is at the best but faintly 
 relieved by Welsh traditions and unsatisfactory 
 fragments of Welsh poetry. Left to themselves 
 the Britons manifested no native capacity for 
 ENG. B 
 
lEarlg ©fjromderg of iinglanfc. 
 
 government and relapsed into comparative barbar- 
 ism. Only about a century after the withdrawal 
 of the conquerors do we meet with a British writer 
 who tells us anything about the Britons ; and the 
 picture he gives of their decay and demoralization 
 is melancholy in the extreme. 
 
 Nor can it be said that even here our scanty 
 historical information rests on a basis altogether 
 free from controversy. Indeed, the doubts and 
 discussions to which the brief treatise of Gildas has 
 given rise are out of all proportion to its magnitude. 
 As to the personality of the writer it is unsatisfac- 
 tory to find two ancient biographies utterly incon- 
 sistent even with regard to his parentage and family, 
 and manifestly full of fabulous matter throughout. 
 In the absence of better information on this subject, 
 even his age and nationality have been called in 
 question ; and though his own testimony upon 
 these points, if trustworthy, is unmistakeable, one 
 daring critic suspects the work to be a forgery of a 
 somewhat later time. Speculations of this kind, 
 however, I shall for my part simply pass by ; and 
 as the work is, under any circumstances, anterior to 
 that of our next historian, the Venerable Bede, I 
 will endeavour to give the reader some account of 
 its general drift. 
 
 The title which it commonly bears — Liber que- 
 rulus de Excidio Britannia (a Book of Complaint 
 touching the Destruction of Britain) — may not have 
 been prefixed by the author himself, but indicates, 
 nevertheless, truly enough its general character. 
 
ffiilfeag. 3 
 
 The work, as it has come down to us, is divided 
 into three sections, the first of which is called " the 
 Preface," the second, " the History," and the third 
 " the Epistle." But it is greatly questioned whether 
 this division is the author's own, who, according to 
 his most recent editor, called the whole simply an 
 Epistle. In any case it is clear that "the History" 
 is only meant to lead up to " the Epistle," and that 
 the author's real aim was not to write a history at 
 all, but to show the fearful degeneracy of the times, 
 and to rebuke the rulers of the British nation for 
 the shameful perfidy with which they dishonoured 
 their Christian profession. In the opening words 
 of " the Epistle " the general state of matters is 
 described as follows : — 
 
 " Britain has kings, but they are tyrants ; she has judges, 
 but impious ones ; often engaged in plunder and rapine, but 
 preying upon the innocent ; avenging and protecting, indeed, 
 but only robbers and criminals. They have an abundance 
 of wives, yet are they addicted to fornication and adultery ; 
 they are ever ready to take oaths, and as often perjure them- 
 selves ; they make a vow and almost immediately act falsely ; 
 they make war, but their wars are against their country- 
 men, and are unjust ones ; they rigorously prosecute thieves 
 throughout the country, but those who sit at table with them 
 are robbers, and they not only cherish but reward them ; 
 they give alms plentifully, but on the other hand they heap 
 up an immense mountain of crimes ; they sit on the seat of 
 justice, but rarely seek for the rule of right judgment ; they 
 despise the innocent and the humble, but seize every occasion 
 of exalting to the utmost the bloody minded, the proud, 
 murderers, the combined and adulterers, enemies of God, 
 who ought to be utterly destroyed and their names forgotten." 
 
lEaily ©fironicfcrg of lEnglanti. 
 
 The turgid Latin in which all this is set forth is 
 certainly not to be commended as a model of literary 
 style. It is a sort of decayed Ciceronianism, in 
 which a great multiplicity of hard words is made 
 to do the duty of a few well-ordered and weighty 
 ones. But after all the style itself is only an addi- 
 tional illustration of that which is the main subject 
 of the book — the general decay of civilization, 
 culture, and morality, which had ensued since the 
 Romans left the island. The author is in dead 
 earnest, and uses a great array of heavy words in 
 the hope that some of them may take effect upon 
 the heavy and sluggish intellects of a demoralized 
 people. And from this general statement of the 
 case he proceeds to special instances, attacking the 
 different British princes by name, for their gross 
 immoralities, and finally addressing a general warn- 
 ing to them by examples from Old Testament 
 history, and from the words of the Prophets. 
 
 Such was the aim and object of this work of 
 Gildas ; and to treat him as an historian in the 
 ordinary sense of the word is not to do him justice. 
 He was an historian only so far as history lay in 
 his path towards another object ; and as an historian 
 he confesses that he labours under very great dis- 
 advantages. 
 
 " I will endeavour," he says, " to give an account both of 
 those evils which Britain suffered in the time of the Roman 
 emperors and of those which she inflicted on other citizens 
 afar off ; yet, so far as I shall be able to do it, it will not be 
 so much from the literature of this country or from the memo- 
 
CMltiag. 5 
 
 rials of its writers (because, if there ever were such, they have 
 either been destroyed by the fires of the enemy, or carried off 
 by the ships of citizens who went into exile), as from a narra- 
 tive [supplied to me] beyond sea, which, being interrupted by 
 frequent gaps, is not by any means satisfactory." 
 
 In fact, the information possessed by Gildas as to 
 what happened long before his own day was not 
 only scanty, but I must add not much to be relied 
 on. From the analysis of the apparent sources of 
 the work made by Sir Thomas Hardy, we may 
 presume that the earlier part, at least, of the narra- 
 tive obtained beyond sea consisted of fragments of 
 the writings of Eusebius and St. Jerome relating to 
 Britain, and perhaps of the ecclesiastical history of 
 Sulpicius Severus. If it extended much later it 
 could not have been very trustworthy ; for the 
 notions of Gildas, at least as to the order and suc- 
 cession of events, are exceedingly confused and 
 inaccurate, nor are they in harmony with well- 
 informed Greek and Roman writers as to the events 
 themselves. But from the early part of the fifth 
 century Greek and Roman writers tell us nothing 
 of the affairs of Britain, and Gildas is the original 
 authority used by Bede and succeeding writers as 
 the basis of our early English history.* It is he 
 who reports how the Britons, after their abandon- 
 ment by the Romans, being molested by the Picts 
 and Scots, invoked again their old conquerors 
 and rulers to save them from the barbarians, 
 
 * See Sir T. Hardy's remarks in his Descriptive Catalogue of 
 Materials relating to the History of Great Britain and Ireland, 
 vol. i. pp. 136, 137. 
 
Sadg ©Sronulotf of lEnglanl). 
 
 and wrote to Aetius the Consul the desponding 
 appeal, headed "the groans of the Britons." 
 The reader is doubtless familiar with the words of 
 that letter as translated by Hume : — " The bar- 
 barians, on the one hand, chase us into the sea ; 
 the sea, on the other, throws us back on the bar- 
 barians ; and we have only the hard choice left us 
 of perishing by the sword, or by the waves." It 
 is Gildas, also, who reports how, when the Romans 
 could no longer assist the islanders, the latter un- 
 wisely met the difficulty by calling in " the fierce 
 and impious Saxons — a race hateful both to God 
 and man, to repel the invasions of the northern 
 nations." On the extreme impolicy and wicked- 
 ness of this step our author makes severe reflec- 
 tions. " Nothing," he says, " was ever so pernicious 
 to our country." Its immediate result is described 
 as follows : — " Then a litter of whelps bursting 
 forth from the lair of the barbaric lioness in three 
 keels as they call them in their language, or long 
 ships as we should say in ours, with their sails 
 wafted by the wind, and with omens and prophecies 
 favourable, by which it was foretold that they 
 should occupy the country to which they were sail- 
 ing three hundred years, and half of that time, a 
 hundred and fifty years, should plunder and despoil 
 the same." They landed on the eastern side of the 
 island as allies of the southern natives ; but having 
 once obtained a footing they strengthened them- 
 selves by fomenting the internal dissensions of the 
 -(slanders. The author goes on to state, though 
 
ffitt&ajs. 7 
 
 in obscure and turgid language, that commotions 
 spread from sea to sea, even to the Western ocean, 
 which he regards as the vengeance of the Almighty 
 on the former sins of the inhabitants. But the pe- 
 culiar horror of these events was the overthrow of 
 Christianity and civilization, recalling the words of 
 the Psalmist, " O God, the heathen are come into 
 Thine inheritance ; Thy holy temple have they 
 defiled."* " They have cast fire into Thy sanc- 
 tuary ; they have defiled the dwelling-place of Thy 
 name." t 
 
 Then following up this figure of speech in a 
 passage which is very obscure, but which has been 
 translated as follows, he goes on to say — 
 
 " So that all the columns were levelled with the ground by 
 the frequent strokes of the battering ram, all the husbandmen 
 routed, together with their bishops, priests, and people, whilst 
 the sword gleamed and the flames crackled around them 
 on every side. Lamentable to behold, in the midst of the 
 streets lay the tops of lofty towers, tumbled to the ground, 
 stones of high walls, holy altars, fragments of human bodies 
 covered with livid clots of coagulated blood, looking as if 
 they had been squeezed together in a press, and with no 
 chance of being buried save in the ruins of the houses, or in 
 the ravening bellies of wild beasts and birds ; with reverence 
 be it spoken for their blessed souls, if, indeed, there were 
 many found who were carried at that time into the high 
 heaven by the holy angels. So entirely had the vintage, 
 once so fine, degenerated and become bitter, that in the 
 words of the prophet there was hardly a grape or ear of corn 
 to be seen where the husbandman had turned his back." 
 
 It is added that "of the miserable remnant," 
 
 * Ps. lxxix. I. f Ps- bcxiv. 7- 
 
8 ^arlg <&§tomlm of lEnglant). 
 
 some were taken in the mountains and murdered 
 with great slaughter ; others, oppressed by hunger, 
 gave themselves up as slaves, even at the risk of 
 being slain on the spot ; others escaped beyond 
 sea ; while others succeeded in preserving their 
 lives, though in constant fear and danger, among 
 the mountains, precipices, and forests. Nevertheless, 
 after a time, the islanders took arms under the 
 Roman General Ambrosius Aurelianus, who alone 
 of all that nation, it is said, " was by chance left 
 alive in the confusion of that troubled period," and 
 obtained some advantage over their persecutors. 
 The war continued then for some time with varied 
 success, till forty-four years after the landing of the 
 Saxons the islanders gained a decided victory at 
 the battle of Mount Badon, which was followed by 
 some other successes. It was at that time, Gildas 
 tells us, that he himself was born. Yet even to the 
 time at which he wrote the cities were not inhabited 
 as before ; and though the foreign foe had ceased 
 to give trouble civil wars still continued. It was 
 true the remembrance of that horrible desolation 
 and of their unexpected deliverance exercised for 
 a time a beneficial influence upon kings, magis- 
 trates, and people, who with their priests and clergy 
 led orderly and decent lives. But after that gene- 
 ration had passed away, the islanders, forgetting 
 everything but their present prosperity, abandoned 
 truth and justice and relapsed into every kind of 
 wickedness, all but a very small company ; so few, 
 says the writer, that our holy mother Church could 
 
(Effoajs. 9 
 
 hardly see them reposing in her bosom — by whose 
 prayers, nevertheless, as by pillars, the infirmity of 
 the nation was sustained. These things, the author 
 wishes us to understand, he writes not in anger but 
 in pure sorrow ; for it is needless to conceal what 
 foreign nations know and cast in our teeth. 
 
 Such is the tenor of this book of Gildas, be it 
 history, epistle, or what it may. A multitude of 
 questions rise up as to the sufficiency of his testi- 
 mony, the completeness of the Saxon conquest and 
 various other points in connection with it, which 
 we may here dismiss. But no one will doubt the 
 general truth to which this remarkable composition 
 bears witness — that the withdrawal of the Romans 
 and the settlement in the island of the pagan 
 Saxons led to something that might well be called 
 " the destruction of Britain ; " that the new comers 
 made havoc of civilization, and that the early 
 planted Christianity of the Britons, cut off from the 
 Christianity of Europe, became so degenerate and 
 corrupt that it had no influence whatever in miti- 
 gating the fury of the conquerors. The absence of 
 all other records on this point only confirms the 
 solitary testimony of Gildas ; for a civilized people 
 always preserves some evidences of its civilization. 
 But here we have no other contemporary docu- 
 ments — no other fruit of that doomed and decay- 
 ing nationality than this pitiful lament over its 
 decay. In another generation or two the Britons 
 will have ceased to exist as a nation altogether, or 
 ceased, at all events, to be any longer called by 
 that name. 
 
io lEarlg ®f)fomcfasS of 1Englant>. 
 
 The revival of civilization came again from 
 Rome ; not, as at first, by the subjugation of the 
 island by Roman arms, but by an influence still 
 more powerful and more humanizing. The tri- 
 umphant pagans who now possessed the land 
 learned the tidings of salvation from the preaching 
 of St. Augustine, and became more gentle than 
 the subject race had been in the days of their 
 independence. For the record of the mode in 
 which the change was wrought we are indebted to 
 Bede's Ecclesiastical History of the English Nation ; 
 and it is certainly the most interesting narrative to 
 be found in our early annals. We therefore present 
 it to the reader in the very words of the original 
 author, translated from the Latin : — 
 
 "In the year of our Lord 582, Maurice, the fifty-fourth from 
 Augustus, ascended the throne, and reigned twenty-one 
 years. In the tenth year of his reign, Gregory, a man con- 
 spicuous for his learning and ability, having attained the 
 pontificate of the Roman Apostolic See, ruled it for thirteen 
 years, six months, and ten days ; who, being warned by a 
 divine instinct, in the fourteenth year of the same emperor, 
 and about the one-hundred and fiftieth after the coming of 
 the English into Britain, sent the servant of God, Augustine, 
 and several others along with him, monks who feared the 
 Lord, to preach the word of God to the English nation. But 
 when in obedience to the Pope's commands they had begun 
 to take that work in hand, and had proceeded some way 
 upon the journey, they were seized with a sluggish fear, and 
 thought rather to return home than go to a barbarous, fierce, 
 and unbelieving nation, whose language even they did not 
 understand ; and this they all agreed was the safer course. 
 And straightway they sent home Augustine, whom he had 
 determined to appoint their bishop if they v/ere received by 
 
33cfce. i x 
 
 the English, to obtain leave of the blessed Gregory by humble 
 supplications, that they should not undertake so dangerous, 
 toilsome, and uncertain a journey. The pope sent them a 
 letter of exhortation persuading them to go forward in the 
 work, relying on the aid of the divine Word ; of which letter 
 the tenor was as follows : — 
 
 " ' Gregory, the servant of the servants of God. Forasmuch 
 as it had been better not to begin a good work than in 
 thought to desist from that which is begun, it behoves you, 
 my beloved sons, by all means to complete the good work 
 which with the Lord's aid you have entered upon. Let not 
 therefore the toil of the journey nor the tongues of men who 
 speak evil deter you ; but with all assiduity and fervour 
 accomplish the things which, prompted by God, you have 
 commenced, knowing that the glory of an eternal reward 
 follows a great labour. Obey in everything your chief 
 Augustine who is returning to you, and whom I appoint to 
 you as abbot, knowing that whatever shall be effected by 
 you according to his direction will be in every way for the 
 advantage of your souls. Almighty God protect you by His 
 grace, and grant that I may in the eternal country see the 
 fruit of your labour ; so that, although I cannot labour with 
 you, I shall be found along with you in the joy of the reward, 
 because at least I desire to labour. God keep you in safety, 
 my most beloved sons. Given on the loth of the kalends of 
 August (23rd July) in the fourteenth year of the reign of 
 our most pious and august lord, the Emperor Mauritius 
 Tiberius, the thirteenth year after the consulate of our said 
 lord, Indiction* xiv.' 
 
 "The same venerable Pope then sent also a letter to 
 ^Etherius, archbishop of Aries, that he should give a kind 
 reception to Augustine on his way to Britain ; of which letter 
 this was the tenor : — 
 
 * The Indictions were another mode of reckoning years. They 
 took in a cycle of fifteen years, the successive years being numbered 
 Indiction I., Indiction II., and so forth, to Indiction XV., after 
 which the numbers were repeated, begining again with Indiction I. 
 
12 lEarlg ©Jjtontcln'g of lEnglanD, 
 
 " ' To his most revere7id and most holy brother and fellow- 
 bishop AZtherius, Gregory servant of the servants of God. 
 
 " ' Although with priests who have the charity which is well 
 pleasing to God, religious men stand in need of no man's 
 recommendation, yet as a fitting opportunity of writing offers 
 itself, we have determined to send our letters to your brother- 
 hood, * intimating that we have sent thither for the good of 
 souls the bearer of these presents, Augustine, the servant of 
 God, of whose assiduity we are assured, with other servants 
 of God besides, whom it is needful that your holiness hasten 
 to assist with sacerdotal zeal and afford him comfort. And 
 that you may be the more ready to grant him assistance, we 
 have enjoined him particularly to relate to you the cause, 
 being assured that when it is fully known to you, you will 
 apply yourself for the love of God to grant him succour, for 
 the case requires it. We also commend to your charity in 
 all things Candidus the priest, our common son, whom we 
 have sent for the government of a small patrimony in our 
 church. God preserve thee in safety, most reverend brother. 
 Given on the ioth of the kalends of August (23rd July) in 
 the fourteenth year of the reign of our lord the Emperor 
 Mauritius Tiberius, the thirteenth year after the consulship 
 of the same lord, Indiction xiv.' 
 
 " Thus strengthened by the confirmation of the blessed 
 Father Gregory, Augustine, with the servants of Christ who 
 went along with him, returned to the work of the Word, and 
 arrived in Britain. At that time Ethelbert was king in Kent, 
 a most powerful sovereign who had extended his sway to the 
 confines of the great river Humber, by which the southern 
 and the northern peoples of the English are divided. On the 
 Eastern side of Kent is Thanet, an island not very small, — 
 that is to say of the magnitude of 600 families, according to 
 the customary computation of the English, — which is divided 
 
 * It will be observed that "your brotherhood" (a title which 
 sounds rather unconventional in English) and "your holiness" 
 were modes of address used at this time even by the chief bishop of 
 Christendom in addressing other bishops. 
 
from the mainland by the river Wantsum, about three furlongs 
 (stadia) in breadth* and fordable only in two places, for either 
 end of it runs into the sea. On this island landed Augustine, 
 the servant of God, and his companions, a company, it is 
 said, of nearly forty men. They had by order of the blessed 
 Pope Gregory taken interpreters of the nation of the Franks, 
 and sending to Ethelbert, Augustine informed him that he 
 had come from Rome, and brought the best possible of 
 tidings, which promised those who obeyed the message 
 eternal joy in heaven, and a kingdom that would be without 
 end with the living and true God. Hearing this he com- 
 manded them to remain in that island where they had landed, 
 and that all necessaries should be supplied to them, until he 
 should consider what to do with them ; for the fame of the 
 Christian religion had already reached him, as he had a 
 Christian wife of the nation of the Franks, by name Bertha, 
 whom he had received from her parents, on the condition 
 that she should be allowed to continue without interruption 
 the rite of her religion with a bishop whom they had given 
 her to assist her faith, whose name was Luidhard. Some 
 days later, accordingly, the king came to the island, and 
 sitting in the open air, commanded Augustine and his com- 
 panions to come and confer with him. For he had taken 
 the precaution that they should not come to him in any 
 house, lest according to an old superstition if they practised 
 any magical arts they might impose upon him, and so get the 
 better of him. But they came furnished with divine, not 
 with magic virtue, bearing a silver cross for a banner, and a 
 figure of our Lord and Saviour painted in a picture, and 
 singing litanies petitioned the Lord for the eternal salvation 
 alike of themselves and of those on whose account and to 
 whom they had come. And when at the king's command 
 they had sat down, and preached the Word of life to him and 
 all his attendants there present, he replied, ' Your words are 
 
 * The stream which divides Thanet from the rest of Kent is in 
 our day extremely narrow, and is called the Stour ; but in Bede's 
 time it formed a very broad channel, and was called the Wantsum. 
 
14 lEarlg ©fircmtckts of lEnglanO. 
 
 fair, and the promises you bring, but as they are new and 
 uncertain, I cannot give my assent to them and relinquish 
 the customs that I have so long observed along with the 
 whole English nation. But as you are travellers who have 
 come a long distance hither, and, as I believe I apprehend 
 your meaning, you are desirous to communicate to us the 
 things which you yourselves believe to be true and excellent, 
 we will not molest you, but rather give you favourable enter- 
 tainment and take care to supply you with things necessary 
 for your support ; nor do we forbid you to preach and gain 
 as many as you can to the faith of your religion.' He 
 accordingly gave them an abode in the city of Canterbury, 
 which was the capital of all his kingdom, and, as he had pro- 
 mised, along with the supply of temporal food did not refuse 
 them liberty of preaching. It is reported also that as they 
 drew near the city, after their manner, with the image of the 
 great king our Lord Jesus Christ, they sang in concert this 
 litany, J We beseech Thee, O Lord, in all Thy mercy, that 
 Thy fury and Thine anger be turned away from this city, 
 and from Thy holy house, for we have sinned. Hallelujah.' 
 
 " As soon as they entered the dwelling-place assigned to 
 them they began to imitate the apostolic life of the primitive 
 Church ; serving that is to say, with constant prayers, watch- 
 ings, and fastings ; preaching the wovd <>f life to whom they 
 could ; despising the things of this world as not their own, 
 accepting only the things which seemed necessary for susten- 
 ance from those whom they instructed ; living themselves in 
 all respects according to what they taught, and with a mind 
 prepared to suffer any adversity or even to die for the truth 
 they preached. In short, some believed and were baptized, 
 admiring the simplicity of their innocent life, and the sweet- 
 ness of their heavenly doctrine. Now there was near that 
 city, on the east side, a church raised of old in honour of St. 
 Martin, when the Romans as yet inhabited Britain, in which 
 the Queen, who, as we have already mentioned, was a 
 Christian, used to pray. In this, accordingly, they also first 
 began to meet, to sing, to pray, to say masses, to preach and 
 
3foUe. i s 
 
 to baptize, until, the king being converted to the faith, they 
 obtained a greater liberty of preaching everywhere and build- 
 ing or restoring churches. But when he also among others, 
 captivated by the unsullied life of the holy men and with 
 their most delightful promises, the truth of which they 
 confirmed by the exhibition of many miracles, believed and 
 was baptized, greater numbers began daily to pour in to hear 
 the word, and, forsaking their heathen rites, to associate them- 
 selves by believing to the unity of the Holy Church of Christ ; 
 whose faith and conversion the king so far encouraged, 
 as that he compelled none to embrace Christianity, but 
 only showed greater affection to believers as fellow-citizens 
 with him in the kingdom of heaven ; for he had learned 
 from his teachers and the authors of his salvation that the 
 service of Christ ought to be voluntary, not enforced. Nor 
 was it long before he gave those teachers a settled residence, 
 suitable to their degree, in Canterbury, his metropolis, with 
 at the same time necessary possessions of divers kinds." 
 
 A little later in his history, after recording the 
 death of Pope Gregory, Bede relates the familiar 
 tradition as to the circumstance which first inspired 
 him with the idea of Christianizing the Britons. 
 And though the histoiian is careful to give it only 
 as a tradition or popular belief, which cannot in 
 any case be considered so certain, or even so 
 worthily characteristic of the pope himself, as the 
 correspondence with St. Augustine, the story is 
 so full of graphic interest, that we reproduce it here 
 as it was originally told. 
 
 " Nor is the belief to be passed by in silence which has 
 come down to us by the tradition of our ancestors as to the 
 cause by which St. Gregory was moved to take such unre- 
 mitting interest in the salvation of our nation. They say that 
 one day certain merchants having lately arrived [at Rome], a 
 
1 6 JSarljj ©fttontcferg of lEnglanD, 
 
 quantity of goods was brought into the market for sale, and 
 many people had resorted thither to buy ; and, among the 
 rest, Gregory himself came and saw, together with other mer- 
 chandise, some boys exposed for sale, their bodies white, their 
 faces handsome, and their hair remarkably beautiful. And 
 having looked at them, he asked, as they say, from what 
 country or land they had been brought, and was told from 
 the island of Britain, whose inhabitants were of such appear- 
 ance. Again he asked whether the same islanders were 
 Christians or were still involved in pagan errors, and was told 
 that they were pagans. Then, fetching a deep sigh from the 
 bottom of his heart, ' Alas ! the pity,' said he, ' that the author 
 of darkness should possess men of so bright a countenance, 
 and that persons conspicuous for so much grace of aspect 
 should have minds void of inward grace !' He therefore 
 again asked what was the name of that nation. He was 
 answered that they were called Angles. ' That is well,' said 
 he, ' for they have angelic faces, and such men ought to be 
 co-heirs with the angels in heaven. What is the name,' he 
 said, ' of the province from which they have been brought ? ' 
 He was told that the people of that province were called 
 Deiri. ' That is well,' he said again, ' Deiri, withdrawn from 
 wrath {de ira) and called to the mercy of Christ. How is the 
 king of that province named ? ' The answer was that he was 
 called ^Ella; and he, alluding to the name, said 'Allelujah ! 
 the praise of God the Creator must be sung in those parts. 
 And repairing to the bishop of the Roman and Apostolic see 
 (for he himself had not yet been made pontiff) he asked him 
 to send into Britain to the nation of the Angles some ministers 
 of the Word, by whom they might be converted to Christ, 
 declaring himself ready to undertake the work with the Lord's 
 assistance if only the Pope were pleased that he should do so. 
 Which thing he was not for a while able to perform, because, 
 although the Pope was willing to grant him what he asked, 
 yet the citizens of Rome could not allow him to withdraw so 
 far from the city. Afterwards, when he was himself made 
 Pope, he achieved the work so long desired, sending other 
 
preachers, indeed, but himself aiding by his exhortations and 
 prayers that their preaching should bear fruit." 
 
 Thus by the efforts of Gregory and St. Augustine 
 not only were the seeds of true religion sown among 
 a barbarous people, but a hierarchy was established 
 in the land to preserve the fruits that had been sown. 
 For whatever may be said in favour of desultory 
 missionary efforts on which much zeal has undoubt- 
 edly been expended in modern times, it is clear 
 that the religion of Christ would have made little 
 progress among our ancestors without an organized 
 society, having intercourse with other societies 
 abroad, and receiving continual encouragement and 
 exhortation from an authority of considerable 
 weight at Rome. Even as it was, there were very 
 serious relapses into idolatry. After Ethelbert's 
 death his son remained for some time a pagan, and 
 became a persecutor, so that almost every minister 
 of Christianity was driven to take refuge abroad. 
 But Bede being a north countryman was specially 
 interested in the story of the conversion of Edwin, 
 king of Northumbria, which was effected partly by 
 the influence of his wife, Ethelberga, the daughter 
 of Ethelbert of Kent. The Pope, at least, wrote her 
 a letter to encourage her efforts in that direction ; 
 but the principal cause of his conversion, according 
 to the historian, was an angelic vision that he re- 
 membered having had before he became king, at a 
 time when his life was in great danger from his 
 enemies. In fulfilment of a vow which he then 
 made, Paulinus urged him to become a Christian, 
 
 ENG. C 
 
1 8 lEarlg ©firontclerg of lEnglanti. 
 
 and he expressed his willingness to do so after 
 hearing the advice of his councillors, whom he 
 accordingly convoked to discuss the question. In 
 their opinion the worship of the pagan gods was 
 utterly futile, and there seemed much to say for the 
 adoption of a new religion which promised more 
 solid comfort; so Edwin suffered himself to be 
 baptized. 
 
 The description of this council by the historian 
 contains some points of graphic interest, both as 
 regards the event itself, and as reflecting the mode 
 of life among our forefathers. The reader will 
 therefore doubtless be glad of the following extract. 
 After reporting the speech of one councillor, the 
 narrative goes on as follows : — 
 
 "To whose persuasion another of the king's chief men 
 giving his assent, added with prudent words — 'To me, O 
 king, the present life of man on earth appears in comparison 
 with that time which is unknown to us, even as when you sit 
 at supper in winter time with your commanders and ministers, 
 a fire being kindled in the midst and the room being warmed, 
 while wintry storms of rain or snow prevail out of doors, a 
 sparrow happens to come and fly swiftly through the house. 
 Scarcely has it entered at one door when it is out at the other. 
 And during the time that it is within it is not touched by the 
 winter storm ; but after a brief interval of calm, escaping for 
 a moment out of winter, it returns into winter again, and 
 vanishes from your eyes. So this life of man appears for a 
 short space, but what shall follow or what may have gone 
 before we are utterly ignorant. If, therefore, this new doctrine 
 has brought anything more certain, it seems well worth fol- 
 lowing.' 
 
 " The other elders and councillors of the king, divinely 
 admonished, spoke to the same effect. But Coin (mentioned 
 
33etif. 
 
 i9 
 
 before as the chief priest of the pagan worship) added that 
 he wished to hear more attentively Paulinus himself discours- 
 ing- of the God whom he preached ; and when the latter had 
 done so at the king's command, he exclaimed on hearing 
 his words, ' I have long since been sensible that what we 
 worshipped was nothing, because the more diligently I sought 
 for truth in that worship the less I found it. But now I 
 openly profess that in this preaching is manifest that truth 
 which is able to confer upon us the gift of eternal life, salva- 
 tion, and happiness. I therefore propose, O king, that we 
 forthwith give over to cursing and to fire the temples and 
 altars that we have consecrated without any fruit of useful- 
 ness.' 
 
 " In short the king openly gave his assent to the preaching 
 of the blessed Paulinus, and renouncing idolatry confessed 
 that he received the faith of Christ. And when he asked the 
 said priest of his former worship who ought first to profane 
 the altars and temples of the idols, with the enclosures by 
 which they were surrounded, he answered, ' I ; for who can, 
 more properly than myself, for an example to all men, destroy 
 the things which I worshipped in foolishness through the 
 wisdom given me by the true God ? ' " 
 
 The historian then tells us how Edwin was 
 baptised at York on Easter Day, being the 12th 
 April (which fixes the year as a.d. 627), " in the 
 Church of St. Peter the Apostle, which he himself 
 built of timber, hurrying on the work while he was 
 being catechised and instructed in order to receive 
 baptism." He appointed that city to be the see of 
 Paulinus, the bishop who instructed him, and after 
 his baptism built a larger and a finer church of 
 stone there, enclosing within its walls the original 
 wooden oratory. The king's example had a power- 
 ful effect upon the Northumbrians ; for Paulinus, 
 
20 lEarljj ©Jronfclerg of 3Englant>. 
 
 going once with the king and queen to a royal 
 country seat near Wooler, was occupied for thirty- 
 six whole days from morning to night in nothing 
 else than catechising and baptising converts in the 
 river Glen. The zeal of Edwin also persuaded the 
 king of the East Saxons to receive the faith, and 
 Paulinus carried his missionary efforts south of the 
 Humber into the province of Lindsey. The memory 
 of these things had not entirely faded at the time 
 Bede wrote. A priest well known to him had con- 
 versed with one of the original converts whom 
 Paulinus had baptised ; and by his report he was 
 tall in stature, a little bent, with black hair, lean 
 visage, and slender aquiline nose ; his aspect at 
 once venerable and inspiring. 
 
 Very remarkable is the story how Christianity 
 made its way when apparently it was all but ex- 
 tinguished ; how the pagan hordes of Mercia over- 
 threw and killed the good king Edwin in battle, yet 
 the son of the Mercian king became a Christian ; 
 how the kingdom of Northumbria was nearly 
 crushed, and how king Oswy, after vainly en- 
 deavouring to buy peace from his enemies, vowed 
 that in the event of victory he would dedicate his 
 daughter to the service of God, and give twelve 
 farms for the endowment of monasteries. The 
 battle was fought near Leeds, and king Oswy was 
 victorious ; on which his daughter became a nun 
 under the abbess Hilda, at Hartlepool, till two 
 years later she removed with the abbess to the 
 more magnificent foundation that Hilda had begun 
 
9SeDe . 2 1 
 
 at Whitby. Even so in another part of the island 
 the East Saxons returned to the faith that they 
 had once cast off; after which the South Saxons 
 were for the first time converted. But for these 
 things we must be content to refer the reader to 
 the pages of Bede himself. Neither can we afford 
 to dwell upon a number of very tempting and 
 beautiful stories, such as those of St. Hilda just 
 mentioned, who founded the abbey of Whitby, — of 
 Csedmon the poet, who could not sing at feasts 
 after the fashion of his countrymen till he was in- 
 spired with. the love of sacred subjects and entered 
 St. Hilda's monastery, — of St. Cuthbert, whose 
 bright and winning countenance induced all men 
 to unveil their hearts to him, — of Adamnan, abbot 
 of Iona, who brought the Irish to conform to the 
 Catholic rule of Easter, but could not prevail with 
 his own monastery to do the same. This contro- 
 versy about Easter occupies a very conspicuous 
 place in the history. It was settled in a great 
 council held at St. Hilda's monastery of Whitby. 
 
 At the end of his work Bede gives a complete 
 chronological summary of the events related, from 
 the invasion of Julius Caesar in the year B.C. 60, to 
 A.D. 731. He also adds a postscript, giving some 
 particulars about himself and his literary labours, 
 which convey a most astonishing impression of his 
 literary activity. His object in writing it, however, 
 seems to have been in the first place to authenticate 
 what he had said by showing the reader his own 
 devotion to letters, and enabling him to judge for 
 
lEarlg ©jjronfrlerg of lEnglanti. 
 
 himself what opportunities the writer had for 
 collecting information : — 
 
 " Thus much of the ecclesiastical history of the Britons, 
 and especially of the English nation, as far as I could learn, 
 either by the writings of the ancients, or from the tradition 
 of our ancestoi's, or by my own knowledge, I, Bede, a servant 
 of God and priest of the monastery of the blessed Apostles 
 Peter and Paul which is at Wearmouth and Jarrow, have 
 composed. And being born in the territory of that monas- 
 tery, when I was seven years old I was given to be educated 
 to the most reverend Abbot Benedict, and afterwards to 
 Ceolfrid ; and having spent my whole life since that time in 
 the same monastery, I have devoted myself entirely to the 
 study of Scripture, and at intervals between the observance 
 of regular discipline and the daily care of singing in church 
 [ always took delight in learning, or teaching, or writing. 
 In the nineteenth year of my life I received deacon's orders, 
 in the thirtieth those of the priesthood, both by the ministry 
 of the most reverend bishop John and by order of Abbot 
 Ceolfrid. From which time of my becoming a priest till the 
 fifty-ninth year of my age I have made it my business, for 
 the use of me and mine, to make brief notes on Holy Scrip- 
 ture from the writings of venerable fathers, or even to add 
 something to their interpretations in accordance with their 
 views, viz. : 
 
 " On the beginning of Genesis to the birth of Isaac, and 
 the choosing of Israel and rejection of Ishmael, three books. 
 
 " Of the tabernacle and its vessels, and the vestments of 
 the priests, three books. 
 
 " Also on the first part of Samuel, that is, to the death of 
 Saul, four books. 
 
 " Of the building of the temple, four books of allegorical 
 exposition, like the rest." 
 
 And so on. Altogether, he enumerates no less 
 than thirty-nine different subjects or headings, on 
 
2SdJc. 23 
 
 each of which he had written at least one book, but 
 more commonly two or three, and sometimes six or 
 seven. Nor were the subjects entirely scriptural ; 
 on the contrary, they embraced all the learning and 
 all the knowledge of the times. He had written a 
 book of letters in which one epistle was devoted to 
 an explanation of leap year and the equinox 
 according to Anatolius. He had written lives of 
 saints, a special life of St. Cuthbert, a history of 
 the abbots of his own monastery, a book of hymns, 
 a book of epigrams, a book of orthography, and a 
 book of poetry. A treatise that he wrote " On the 
 Nature of Things " became a text-book of science to 
 succeeding generations, in which, to use the words 
 of Professor Morley, he " condensed the knowledge 
 of his day, as modified by religion, on the subject 
 of the World and its Creation, the elements, the 
 firmament and heavens, the five circles of the 
 world (northern, solstitial, equinoctial, brumal, and 
 austral), the four quarters of the heavens, the stars, 
 the course and order of the planets, their apses, 
 their changes of colour, the zodiac and its signs, 
 the milky way, the sun, the moon, their courses and 
 eclipses, comets, air, winds, thunder and lightning, 
 the rainbow, clouds, showers, hail, snow, signs of 
 the weather, pestilence, fresh and salt water, tides, 
 the sea, the Red Sea, the Nile, the position of the 
 Earth, its form of a globe, its circle and dial 
 shadows, its movement, volcanic ^Etna, and the 
 great geographical divisions of the Earth." 
 
 His love of study was unbounded. It appears 
 
24 lEarlg <£f)toviidtv$ of fsnglanU. 
 
 from his book on poetry and other evidences that 
 he was familiar with Greek, and it is believed that 
 he knew something even of Hebrew. But nowhere 
 does his devotion to literature appear more strongly 
 than in the well-known account of his death 
 written by his pupil Cuthbert to a friend, which, 
 though it has been so often quoted by other writers 
 we cannot but transcribe and lay before the reader 
 in this place : — 
 
 "To his fellow reader Cuthwin, beloved in Christ, Cuthbert 
 his schoolfellow, health for ever in the Lord. I have received 
 with much pleasure the small present which you sent me, 
 and with much satisfaction read the letters of your devout 
 erudition ; wherein I found what I very much desired, that 
 masses and holy prayers are diligently celebrated by you for 
 our father and master, Bede, whom God loved. I am, there- 
 fore, all the better pleased, for the love of him (according to 
 my capacity), in a few words to relate in what manner he 
 departed this world, as I understand that you also desire and 
 ask the same. He was much troubled with shortness of 
 breath, yet without pain, before the day of our Lord's Resur- 
 rection, that is, for nearly a fortnight ; and thus he after- 
 wards passed his life, cheerful and rejoicing, giving thanks to 
 Almighty God every day and night, nay, every hour, till the 
 day our Lord's Ascension, that is, the seventh before the 
 kalends of June [26th of May], and daily read lessons to u£ 
 his disciples, and whatever remained of the day he spent iu 
 singing psalms. He also passed all the night awake, in jov 
 and thanksgiving, except so far as a very slight slumber pre- 
 vented it ; but he no sooner awoke than he presently repeated 
 his wonted exercises, and ceased not to give thanks to God 
 with uplifted hands. 
 
 " O truly happy man ! He chanted the sentence of St. 
 Paul the Apostle, ' It is dreadful to fall into the hands of the 
 living God,' and much more out of Holy Writ ; wherein also 
 
3Beati) of 33ctie. 
 
 he admonished us to think of our last hour, and to shake oft 
 the sleep of the soul ; and being learned in our poetry, he 
 said some things also in our tongue, for he said, putting the 
 same into English, 
 " ' For tham neod fere JEr his heonen-gange 
 
 Nenig wyrtheth Hwet his gaste 
 
 Thances snottra Godes oththe yveles 
 
 Thonne him thearf sy .<Efter deathe heonen 
 To gehiggene Demed wurthe.' 
 
 which means this : 
 
 " ' No man is wiser than is requisite, before the necessary 
 departure ; that is, to consider, before the soul departs hence, 
 what good or evil it hath done, and how it is to be judged 
 after its departure.' 
 
 " He also sang antiphons according to our custom and his 
 own, one of which is, ' O King of glory, Lord of all power, 
 who, triumphing this day, didst ascend above all the heavens ; 
 do not leave us orphans,* but send down upon us the spirit 
 of truth which was promised by the Father. Hallelujah ! 't 
 And when he came to that word, ' do not leave us orphans,' 
 he burst into tears and wept much, and an hour after he 
 began to repeat what he had commenced, and we, hearing it, 
 mourned with him. By turns we read, and by turns we wept, 
 nay, we wept always while we read. In such joy we passed 
 the period of fifty days (between Easter and Whit-Sunday), 
 till the aforesaid day ; and he rejoiced much and gave God 
 thanks because he had been thought worthy to be so weak- 
 ened. He often repeated 'that God scourgeth every son 
 whom He receiveth,' and much more out of Holy Scripture ; 
 as also this sentence from St. Ambrose, ' I have not lived so 
 as to be ashamed to live among you ; nor do I fear to die, 
 because we have a gracious God.' During these days he 
 
 * See St. John xiv. 18. The word translated "comfortless" 
 in our version is in the Greek bptyavovs. 
 
 t This is the antiphon for vespers on Ascension Day in the 
 Sarum breviary, and is now used with some modification in our 
 Church as the collect for the Sunday after. 
 
26 SEarlg ©ijronfckrs of lEnglantr. 
 
 laboured to compose two works well worthy to be remem- 
 bered, besides the lessons we had from him, and singing of 
 Psalms ; viz., he translated the Gospel of St. John into our 
 own tongue for the benefit of the church ; and some collec- 
 tions out of the book of Notes of Bishop Isidorus, saying, ' I 
 will not have my pupils read a falsehood, nor labour therein 
 without profit after my death.' When the Tuesday before 
 the Ascension of our Lord came, he began to suffer still 
 more in his breath, and a small swelling appeared in his feet ; 
 but he passed all that day and dictated cheerfully, and now 
 and then, among other things, said, ' Go on quickly, I know 
 not how long I shall hold out, and whether my Maker will 
 not soon take me away.' But to us he seemed very well to 
 know the time of his departure ; and so he spent the night 
 awake, in thanksgiving. 
 
 And when the morning appeared, that is Wednesday, 
 he ordered us to write with all speed what he had begun ; 
 and this done, we walked in procession with the relics 
 of the saints till the third hour as the custom of that day 
 was. There was one of us, however, with him, who said to 
 him, ' Most dear master, there is still one chapter wanting ; 
 do you think it troublesome to be asked any more ques- 
 tions?' He answered, 'It is no trouble. Take your pen, 
 and dip it and write fast' Which he did. But at the ninth 
 hour he said to me, ' I have some little articles of value in 
 my chest, such as pepper, napkins, and incense ; run quickly, 
 and bring the priests of our monastery to me, that I may 
 distribute among them the gifts which God has bestowed on 
 me. The rich in this world are bent on giving gold and 
 silver, and other precious things. But I, with much charity 
 and joy, will give my brothers that which God has given to 
 me.' He spoke to every one of them, admonishing and en- 
 treating them that they would carefully say masses and 
 prayers for him, which they readily promised ; but they all 
 mourned and wept, especially because he said that they 
 should no more see his face in this world. They rejoiced, 
 however, because he said, ' The time is come that I shall 
 
Wt&fy at 2foue. 
 
 return to Him who formed me out of nothing : I have lived 
 long ; my merciful Judge well foresaw my life for me ; the 
 time of my dissolution draws nigh ; for I desire to die and to 
 be with Christ.' Having said much more, he passed the day 
 joyfully till the evening ; and the boy above mentioned, said : 
 ' Dear master, there is yet one sentence not written.' He 
 answered, ' Write quickly.' Soon after, the boy said, ' The 
 sentence is now written.' He replied, ' It is well, you have 
 said the truth. It is ended. Receive my head into your 
 hands, for it is a great satisfaction to me to sit opposite my 
 holy place in which I was wont to pray, that I may also 
 sitting call upon my Father.' And thus on the pavement of 
 his little cell, singing ' Glory be to the Father, and to the 
 Son, and to the Holy Ghost,' when he had named the Holy 
 Ghost, he breathed his last, and so departed to the heavenly 
 kingdom. All who were present at the death of the blessed 
 father said they had never seen any other person expire with 
 so much devotion, and in so tranquil a frame of mind. For 
 as you have heard, so long as the soul animated his body, he 
 never ceased to give thanks to the true and living God, with 
 expanded hands, exclaiming, ' Glory be to the Father, and 
 to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost!' with other spiritual 
 ejaculations. But know this, dearest brother, that I could 
 say much concerning him, if my want of learning did not 
 cut short my discourse. Nevertheless, by the grace of God I 
 purpose shortly to write more concerning him, particularly of 
 those things which I saw with my own eyes, and heard with 
 my own ears." 
 
 It appears from this letter that Bede died on 
 Ascension Day, which in that particular year fell 
 on the 26th May. The date must therefore have 
 been in the year of our Lord 735 ; and as the 
 Ecclesiastical History terminates in the year 731, 
 it is clear that the author did not long survive the 
 
 completion of his greatest work. 
 
2 3 lEarlp ©Jjtomckrg of lEnglant). 
 
 From the first the Ecclesiastical History of Bede 
 has always been regarded as a work of the highest 
 interest. After the lapse of several centuries it was 
 still looked upon as the model of what a history 
 ought to be, and after which other histories ought 
 to be written. It was translated by the great king 
 Alfred into the vernacular English of his own day, 
 and it has been frequently translated since. No 
 one, indeed, can be indifferent to such a remarkable 
 record of the dawn of Christian civilization in this 
 country, written so near the time itself by one of 
 the most vigorous and many-sided intellects that 
 England ever produced. Much of the information 
 contained in it seems to have been derived from 
 the memory of persons living in Bede's own day. 
 A good deal more was supplied to him by corre- 
 spondents at London and at Canterbury. Some 
 part also is believed to have been founded on 
 native annals not now extant. It is evident that 
 the author sought eagerly for information wherever 
 it was to be found. 
 
 Nor can it be considered a reflection upon his 
 judgment, considering the slender means at his 
 disposal for the verification of many things, that 
 he has filled a considerable portion of the work 
 with miraculous stories which the modern reader 
 will at once dismiss as fabulous. It was the uni- 
 versal belief in those days that the power of work- 
 ing miracles, communicated by our Lord to His 
 apostles in the first instance, had never ceased to 
 be exercised by holy men in the Church, and the 
 
J&tracfcss in 3fa&e'g P?tetorg, 29 
 
 conviction that such things were possible, predis- 
 posed the mind to believe in them as facts. The 
 acknowledged rarity of the occurrences at the same 
 time prevented minute inquiry; for the power of 
 working miracles was esteemed an attribute of 
 peculiar saintliness, and if the immediate wit- 
 nesses were mistaken in what they saw, or about 
 the instrumentality through which it was effected, 
 there was no means by which the ablest writer 
 living at a distance, even if contemporary with the 
 facts, could easily correct their mistakes. But in 
 Bede's history it will be noted that marvels of this 
 sort abound most in reference to a period long 
 before his own day, and where it is otherwise there 
 is generally not much difficulty in explaining the 
 phenomenon in accordance with natural laws. 
 
 We must not, therefore, be surprised that even a 
 writer of such strong intelligence should tell us that 
 Germanus stilled a tempest in the channel while 
 going over to Britain to quell the Pelagian heresy ; 
 that he gave eyesight to a blind girl, and performed 
 a number of other miracles not recorded ; that a 
 fire at Canterbury, against which all human efforts 
 were unavailing, was quenched by the prayers of 
 the infirm and gouty Mellitus, who having ordered 
 himself to be carried to the place where it was 
 most vehement, caused the wind immediately to 
 change. Of stories like these there is great abun- 
 dance in Bede's history ; but all that they can be 
 justly considered to prove is that his intense and 
 vehement love of knowledge went far beyond the 
 
30 lEarig ©Jjroniclerg of lEnglanti. 
 
 means at his disposal for testing the accuracy of 
 his information. 
 
 We pass over an interval of nearly two hundred 
 years before we come to another historian of 
 real graphic power. Nor have we even then a 
 great historian, much less a man of anything like 
 Bede's comprehensiveness and universality of mind. 
 He is, in fact, not an historian at all, but only a 
 biographer ; his work is little more than a fragment, 
 of which a very small portion is original, and the 
 interest of it is mainly due to the genuine great- 
 ness of the man whom he describes to us. Never- 
 theless, Asser's Life of Alfred is by no means 
 contemptible, even as a literary composition ; and 
 if it is seldom studied in the original, some part of 
 its contents is known to all and related in other 
 language to children in the nursery at this day. 
 
 Although the place of his birth is nowhere 
 stated, there is little doubt that Asser was a 
 Welshman. Of his education we know from him- 
 self that he was brought up in the monastery of 
 St. David's, where he also received the tonsure and 
 was ordained a priest. It is the opinion of Sir 
 Thomas Hardy that he ultimately became head 
 of that house, if not bishop of the see ; for he 
 speaks of injustice done both to the see and to 
 the monastery by King Hemeyd of South Wales,- 
 and complains particularly of the expulsion of the 
 prelates, including himself and his kinsman Arch- 
 bishop Novis. It was this circumstance that made 
 him to some extent less regardful of local ties, and 
 
toer'* &tfe of SKw&. 31 
 
 caused him to yield the more easily to the per- 
 suasions of Alfred to spend some time in his king- 
 dom ; for he felt that by cultivating the frendship 
 of such a powerful prince, his own position, even in 
 Wales, would be materially strengthened. He is, 
 in fact, mentioned by later writers as successor to 
 Novis in the bishopric of St. David's ; and he him- 
 self states that he had possessions and jurisdiction 
 both westward and northward of the river Severn. 
 King Alfred, however, set a high value on his 
 friendship, and gave him the bishopric of Exeter, 
 and probably also that of Shirburn, the see of which 
 was in after times transferred to Salisbury, besides 
 some other promotions. Asser himself does not 
 mention both these bishoprics, but only that of 
 Exeter, and the monasteries of Amesbury and 
 Banwell, as having been given him by King Alfred ; 
 but as Asser's Life of Alfred is only a fragment 
 composed many years before the king's death, and 
 never completed by its author, it is quite possible 
 that he may have received Shirburn from the same 
 patron as his other English preferments. 
 
 Asser, however, wrote as a Welshman, and for 
 the use of Welshmen. The fact is apparent from 
 his speaking of the English as " Saxons," and 
 calling their country " Saxony," besides translating 
 English local names by Celtic ones ; as, for example, 
 Selwood, which he not only renders into Latin as 
 Silva Magna, but into British or Welsh as Coit- 
 mawr. It is remarkable, and to my mind not very 
 consistent with those theories held by some of the 
 
$2 lEarlg ©frrontcfcrg of lEnglanfc. 
 
 extermination of the original British inhabitants by 
 the Saxons, that a considerable number of places 
 throughout England, though they had by this time 
 received Saxon names from the most recent con- 
 querors of the island, were still known to the 
 ancient British races by the names in use before 
 the conquest. Just as at this day, in parts of Ire- 
 land and Scotland which a few generations ago 
 were far removed from intercourse with the English- 
 speaking race, a village, or a mountain, is known to 
 the world in general by an English name, but to the 
 original inhabitants by a Celtic one ; so it was in 
 the days of Asser in districts absolutely under the 
 dominion of the Saxon. Eaxanceastre, or Exeter, 
 we are told, was called in British Cairwisc, Ciren- 
 cester was called Cairceri, Snotingaham(or Notting- 
 ham) was called Tigguocobauc, or the House of 
 Caves, Thornsasta (or Dorset) was called Durngueis. 
 Even on the east coast of England the very island 
 on which the Saxon invaders first set foot, although 
 it had received from them the name which it still 
 retains of Thanet, was known to some in the days 
 of King Alfred by its old British name of Ruim. 
 
 For the earlier part of his work Asser appears to 
 have availed himself of the annals known as the 
 Saxon Chronicle, which he simply translated into 
 Latin with here and there a word of comment or 
 explanation. He begins, however, from the year 
 849, the date of Alfred's" birth, which he uses 
 throughout as an era ; and wherever, in translating 
 from the Chronicle, he has to mention the year 
 
teer'ss 3Ltfe of &lfret>. 33 
 
 of our Lord, he is always careful to add " which 
 was the third after the birth of King Alfred," 
 or, which was the twelfth, thirty-ninth, or whatever 
 it might be, of King Alfred's life. From the year 
 849 to 887 the work is in this way mainly derived 
 from the Chronicle, and relates even more to the 
 general history of the kingdom than to the life of 
 Alfred himself. But it is of course to the original 
 portion, containing those personal notices of the 
 king from which almost all our knowledge of him 
 is derived, that the work owes nearly all its value. 
 
 Here, however, as in the case of Gildas, the 
 critics will not let us rest. How much of Asser is 
 original ? Or how much of the received work is 
 really authentic ? There is no doubt, unfortunately, 
 that it has been much interpolated ; and the one 
 bold sceptic who impugns the authenticity of 
 Gildas ventures to insinuate here too that the whole 
 treatise is the production of a later age. This 
 theory, however, has not found general acceptance, 
 and we only mention it to show the reader how our 
 path is beset with difficulties. The question as to 
 the extent of the interpolations is more serious, for, 
 unfortunately, no ancient manuscripts of Asser now 
 remain. One ancient copy which appears to have 
 been used by Archbishop Parker, Asser's first 
 editor, perished in the disastrous fire which con- 
 sumed a portion of the Cottonian library in 173 1 ; 
 and it is perfectly certain that even Archbishop 
 Parker did not print the text exactly as it stood in 
 this manuscript. But the great antiquary, Camden, 
 
 ENG. D 
 
34 lEarlg <&\)XQmdex$ of lEnglant). 
 
 who printed a second edition of this treatise, took still 
 further liberties, and actually inserted, as if it were 
 part of Asser's work, a passage derived from a 
 totally different source, in which King Alfred is 
 absurdly represented as settling disputes at the 
 University of Oxford. Great scholars even in the 
 days of James I. could believe that the antiquity 
 of that venerable seat of learning actually reached 
 back to the days of King Alfred. 
 
 It is difficult to excuse such editing as this ; for, 
 whatever may be said to palliate the credulity 
 which in that age was disposed to accept the fact 
 related, there could be no justification of the course 
 Camden pursued in introducing foreign matter into 
 Asser's narrative. Archbishop Parker, it is true, 
 had done the same ; but the passages which he 
 introduced were from a work which he believed to 
 be by the same author, so that it may be said they 
 were inserted in good faith, though by no means 
 with good judgment. The Archbishop, in fact, 
 confounded together two totally different works, 
 which were both in that day attributed to Asser, 
 and supplied from a later treatise commonly called 
 Asser's Annals, a good deal of matter that he 
 found omitted in the Life of Alfred. Now, the 
 so-called Asser's Annals borrow a good deal of 
 their contents, either from the Life of Alfred, or 
 from the corresponding parts of the Saxon 
 Chronicle ; and where they contain more it might 
 very well have appeared that the manuscript of the 
 Life of Alfred was defective. But instead of being 
 
&**«'* Stfe of &lfret). 35 
 
 the real work of Asser it can be shown conclusively 
 that the Annals were written at least fourscore years 
 after Asser's death, and in all probability they are 
 a good deal later. 
 
 Now, the natural result of all this tampering with 
 Asser's text and the loss of the one ancient manu- 
 script which existed in the beginning of the last cen- 
 tury, is that we should be in considerable doubt as to 
 what Asser really said, and whether any part of the 
 text could really be relied on. And so, in fact, we 
 should have been, but that in 1722, just before the 
 fire in the Cottonian Library, an edition of Asser 
 was published by an editor named Wise, in which the 
 work was collated throughout with ail the manu- 
 scripts then known to exist. From this collation 
 we can now declare with certainty how much of the 
 received text was contained in the one only manu- 
 script which ought to have been regarded as of much 
 authority ; and even this manuscript, it would seem, 
 did not contain the text of Asser absolutely pure 
 and unadulterated. But the revelations made by 
 this examination are not a little instructive. We 
 shall give one example which should certainly 
 interest other people than bookworms. 
 
 The old familiar story of Alfred allowing the 
 cakes to burn in a cowherd's cottage has been 
 generally related by historians on the authority of 
 Asser's Life of Alfred. On examination it turns 
 out that this is one of the interpolations of a later 
 date. This is not, we may remark, as much as to 
 say that the incident is entirely apocryphal ; for 
 
3 6 3Earlg ©IjrontckriS of lEnglanD. 
 
 a story preserved for some time by tradition may 
 be perfectly true, and in this case we pronounce no 
 opinion one way or other. But the fact is that it 
 formed no part whatever of Asser's work, but was 
 tagged on by the author of the so-called Annals of 
 Asser to a passage in the Life derived from the 
 Saxon Chronicle. To exhibit the whole process of 
 manufacture, we will first give the words of the 
 Saxon Chronicle: — 
 
 " Anno 878. This year, during mid-winter, the army [of the 
 Danes] stole away to Chippenham, and overran the land of 
 the West Saxons, and sat down there ; and many of the 
 people they drove beyond sea, and of the remainder the 
 greater part they subdued and forced to obey them, except 
 King Alfred ; and he, with a small band, with difficulty 
 retreated to the woods and to the fortresses of the moors." 
 
 This passage Asser translated, it may be a little 
 paraphrastically ; but even in the translation as it 
 now stands, we find an additional clause referring 
 to a life of St. Neot which could not have been part 
 of the original text, but was probably embodied in 
 it many years after Asser's death. So that the 
 latter part of the above passage reads as follows in 
 the Life : — 
 
 '-' At the same time, the above-named King Alfred, with a 
 few of his nobles and certain soldiers and vassals, used to 
 lead an unquiet life in great tribulation among the woodlands 
 and marshy districts of Somerset; for he had nothing to live 
 upon except what he could take by frequent forays, either 
 secretly or openly, from the Pagans, 01 even from the 
 Christians who had submitted to the Pagan rule ; and as we 
 read in the Life of St. Neot he [once took refuge] with one of 
 his cowherds." 
 
%Lmt'$ Me of &lfteD. 37 
 
 Here we have the first allusion to the cowherd, 
 but still there is nothing said about the burning of 
 the cakes ; nor did the one ancient manuscript con- 
 tain the story when it was unfortunately burned 
 in the Cottonian fire. But even in the earliest 
 edition of the work, which was printed by Parker 
 in 1574, the story occurs as an addition to the 
 preceding paragraph, and is related as follows. 
 We adopt the translation of Dr. Giles, who has 
 turned a Latin distich in the original in a very 
 spirited manner into verse in the Somersetshire 
 dialect : — 
 
 " But it happened on a certain day that the countrywoman, 
 wife of the cowherd, was preparing some loaves to bake, and 
 the king, sitting at the hearth, made ready his bow and 
 arrows and other warlike instruments. The unlucky woman 
 espying the cakes burning at the fire, ran up to remove them, 
 and rebuking the brave king, exclaimed — 
 ' Ca'sn thee mind the ke-aks, man, and doossen zee 'em burn ? 
 I'm boun' thee's eat 'em vast enough, az zoon az 'tiz the 
 turn.' 
 The blundering woman little thought that it was King Alfred, 
 who had fought so many battles against the Pagans, and 
 gained so many victories over them." 
 
 That this was a distinct addition to the original 
 text is shown by the fact that it was not contained 
 in the old Cottonian manuscript, but only in the 
 so-called Asser's Annals. And the reader will 
 observe that it also bears internal evidence of being 
 an interpolation in the fact that it is positively 
 inconsistent with what goes before. For the Lift 
 itself, following the authority of a Life of St. Neot, 
 
38 Icatly ©Svonidcrg of langlatxtj. 
 
 says the king took shelter with one of his own cow- 
 herds {apud quendam snum vaccarium), evidently a 
 trusty dependent who knew him personally ; while 
 the anecdote taken out of the Annals states that 
 the cowherd's wife did not know who her guest was. 
 It is impossible, surely, that a writer who intended 
 to tell such a story would previously have used the 
 expression " apud quendam suum vaccarium." 
 
 Indeed, the inconsistency is even more marked 
 if we look at the pseudo Annals of Asser them- 
 selves ; for it will be seen that in the second last 
 extract, which is taken from the Life of Alfred, we 
 have been obliged to bracket in three words — 
 "once took refuge" — to complete the sense and 
 make good grammar. This may have been a mere 
 accidental omission in the manuscript ; for even in 
 the Latin it cannot be said that the absence of a 
 verb in the sentence is consistent with good com- 
 position. But if we go to the pseudo Asser, from 
 which the writer was transcribing, we find the verb 
 supplied, and along with it an adverb, which 
 together make the sense very much stronger than 
 that of the three words we have bracketed. For the 
 statement there is, not that Alfred merely " once 
 took refuge," but that he " lay hid for a long time " 
 (din latebat) at the house of this cowherd ; so that 
 the idea that the cowherd's wife — his own dependent 
 — did not know who he was, becomes far more 
 improbable. At all events, if the writer of the 
 Annals had entertained this idea, he would pro- 
 bably have expressed it that his narrative might 
 not seem to suggest the contrary. 
 
<gLmx'$ M« of gUfreU. 39 
 
 It is true, these internal indications of different 
 authorship could hardly have been regarded if we 
 had not other evidence ; indeed, as it is, I am not 
 aware that they have been pointed out before now ; 
 but they are worth observing. 
 
 There is, however, a further means of testing the 
 accuracy of Asser's text which we have not yet 
 mentioned. Although there is now no ancient 
 manuscript of the Life of Alfred to which we can 
 appeal, a great part of it was transcribed word 
 for word by Florence of Worcester in the twelfth 
 century, and incorporated with other materials in 
 his chronicle. And Florence of Worcester in this 
 place not only omits altogether the story of the 
 cakes, but says nothing even of the king taking 
 refuge with a cowherd, and makes no allusion 
 whatever to the Life of St. Neot, from which that 
 statement is derived. Now, as we have shown 
 already that the allusion to the Life of St. Neot 
 could not have been a part of the original work, it 
 is clear that in this particular passage the text of 
 Asser exists in a less corrupt state in Florence of 
 Worcester than it does, or even than it did in the 
 beginning of the last century, in any manuscript 
 of the Life of Alfred itself. 
 
 Taking, this incident, therefore, as something 
 undoubtedly incorporated with the biography of 
 Alfred at a later period, it shows at least how 
 tradition loved to dwell upon his memory and to 
 preserve anecdotes of him which, even if they were 
 to some extent apocryphal, were still, we may 
 
4° lEaiclg ©^romckrg of lEnglant). 
 
 believe, highly characteristic of the man and of the 
 days in which he lived. Other anecdotes, scarcely 
 less graphic and interesting, would appear to be 
 part of Asser's genuine work ; and yet in some 
 cases they are rather difficult to harmonise, even 
 with the facts preserved by Asser himself. The 
 following, for instance, so far as external testimony 
 goes, would seem to be a genuine part of the story 
 written by the bishop who was Alfred's contem- 
 porary. After relating that although he showed 
 himself precocious from his cradle, yet "by the 
 unworthy neglect of his parents and nurses," the 
 boy remained illiterate till he was twelve years old 
 or more ; it is added : — ■ 
 
 " On a certain day, therefore, his mother was showing him 
 and his brother a Saxon book of poetry, which she held in 
 her hands, and said, e Whichever of you shall the soonest 
 learn this volume, shall have it for his own.' Stimulated by 
 these words, or rather by the Divine inspiration, and allured 
 by the beautifully illuminated letter at the beginning of the 
 volume, he spoke before all his brothers, who, though his 
 seniors in age, were not so in grace, and answered : ' Will you 
 really give that book to one of us, that is to say, to him who 
 can first understand and repeat it to you ? ' At this his 
 mother smiled with satisfaction, and confirmed what she had 
 before said. Upon which the boy took the book out of her 
 hand, and went to his master to read it, and in due time 
 brought it to his mother and recited." 
 
 This is an anecdote which, it must be universally 
 felt, one would not like to lose. But just in pro- 
 portion to that feeling must be the wish to under- 
 stand and appreciate it. From what goes before 
 
gLmt't 3Ltfe of &lfrrt>. 41 
 
 we should naturally presume that this occurrence 
 took place when he was about twelve years old ; 
 more especially as there is at the beginning a 
 "therefore," {ergo) which seems to connect it with 
 preceding statements. But Alfred's mother, As- 
 burgha, must have died soon after the year 853, in 
 which, as the biography itself tells us, the child 
 was sent by his father to Rome ; and at that date 
 he could have been little more than four years old. 
 Some are therefore led to the belief that the 
 "mother" referred to was his stepmother, Judith, 
 daughter of Charles the Bald, king of the Franks ; 
 but apart from the improbability of the word mater 
 being used instead of noverca, it is suggested as 
 very unlikely that this foreign princess, who was 
 married before she was thirteen, would have been 
 at much pains to teach Saxon poetry to grown-up 
 stepsons, some of whom were probably older than 
 herself. The most reasonable view seems to be 
 that Alfred's real mother was intended. The 
 passage in the midst of which the anecdote occurs 
 is a digression in which the author takes leave for 
 a time of the political history derived from the 
 Saxon Chronicle, in order to tell, as he himself 
 says, all that had come to his knowledge touching 
 the great king's infancy and boyhood. It must 
 also be understood that, although the Latin of the 
 above extract might be so construed, this story 
 does not refer to Alfred's learning to read ; for 
 that is recorded later, and the date at which he 
 acquired the art is stated to have been the thirty- 
 
42 lEarln <&§tomdtx$ of lEttglantJ. 
 
 ninth year of his age. The anecdote is only related 
 as an early manifestation of that intelligence and 
 love of letters of which he gave still more striking 
 evidence in his manhood as king of the West 
 Saxons and of England. 
 
 Farther on in the narrative it is related how in 
 those days he invited from Mercia four eminent 
 divines and scholars : Werefrith, bishop of Wor- 
 cester, who at his command translated the 
 Dialogues of Pope Gregory and his disciple Peter 
 into English ; Plegmund, whom he made arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury ; Ethelstan and Werewulf 
 whom he made his priests and chaplains. Not 
 content with this, he sent messengers beyond sea 
 to Gaul and invited over Grimbald, " priest and 
 monk, a venerable man and good singer, adorned 
 with every kind of ecclesiastical discipline and 
 good morals, and most learned in Holy Scripture ; " 
 also John, another priest and monk, who is de- 
 scribed as a man of great energy and learning, 
 and skilled in various arts. Such men he en- 
 riched and promoted to great honour. So also 
 he induced the author, bishop Asser himself, 
 to make his abode in his kingdom instead of 
 Wales. 
 
 " In these times I also, at the king's invitation, came into 
 Saxony out of the furthest coasts of Western Britain ; and 
 when I had proposed to go to him through many intervening 
 provinces, I arrived in the country of the Saxons, who live 
 on the right hand, which in Saxon is called Sussex, under the 
 guidance of some of that nation ; and there I first saw him 
 
tect'0 &[(* of SUfat). 43 
 
 in the royal vill, which is called Dene.* He received mc 
 with kindness, and among other familiar conversation, he 
 asked me eagerly to devote myself to his service, and become 
 his friend ; to leave everything which I possessed on the left, 
 or western, bank of the Severn, and he promised he would 
 give more than an equivalent for it in his own dominions. 
 I replied that I could not incautiously and rashly promise 
 such things ; for it seemed to me unjust that I should leave 
 those sacred places in which I had been bred, educated, and 
 crowned,+ and at last ordained, for the sake of any earthly 
 honour and power, unless by compulsion. Upon this he said, 
 ' If you cannot accede to this, at least let me have your ser- 
 vice in part. Spend six months of the year with me here, 
 and the other six in Britain. 5 To this I replied, ' I could not 
 even promise that, easily or hastily, without the advice of my 
 friends.' At length, however, when I perceived that he was 
 anxious for my services, though I knew not why, I promised 
 him that, if my life was spared, I would return to him after 
 six months, with such a reply as should be agreeable to him, 
 as well as advantageous to me and mine. With this answer 
 he was satisfied, and when I had given him a pledge to return 
 at the appointed time, on the fourth day we left him and 
 returned on horseback towards our own country. 
 
 " After our departure a violent fever seized me in the city 
 of Winchester, where I lay for twelve months and one week, 
 night and day without hope of recovery. At the appointed 
 time, therefore, I could not fulfil my promise of visiting him, 
 and he sent messages to hasten my journey, and to inquire 
 the cause of my delay. As I was unable to ride to him, 
 1 sent a second message to tell him the cause of my delay, 
 and assure him that, if I recovered from my infirmity, I 
 
 * East and West Dean are two villages near Chichester. There 
 are also two villages so named near Eastbourne, one of which, it 
 has been thought, may be the place in question. 
 
 "J" This expression alludes to the tonsure which was undergone by 
 those who became clerks. The crown of the head was shaved, 
 leaving a circle of hair round it. 
 
44 lEarlg @5ronicla# of lEnglant). 
 
 would fulfil what I had promised. My complaint left me 
 and by the advice and consent of all my friends, for the 
 benefit of that holy place, and of all who dwelt therein, I did 
 as I had promised to the king, and devoted myself to his 
 service, on the condition that I should remain with him six 
 months in every year, either continuously, if I could spend 
 six months with him at once, or alternately, three months in 
 Britain, and three in Saxony." 
 
 Afterwards the author tells us how he was in- 
 duced by the king's earnest solicitation to stay with 
 him eight months at the royal vill of Leonaford — 
 
 " During which I read to him whatever books he liked, and 
 such as he had at hand ; for this is his most usual custom, 
 both night and day, 'amid his many other occupations of 
 mind and body, either himself to read books, or to listen 
 whilst others read them." 
 
 The process by which he learned to read himself 
 may be described a little more briefly than in the 
 very words of his biographer. One day, as the 
 king and Asser were sitting together talking on 
 various subjects, the latter read to him a quotation 
 out of a certain book, with which Alfred was so 
 greatly pleased, that he desired him to write it 
 down in a book which he took out of his bosom, 
 containing the daily services, psalms, and prayers, 
 that he had been accustomed to recite in his youth. 
 The bishop gave thanks inwardly to God, who had 
 implanted such a love of wisdom in the king's 
 heart, but could find no vacant space in the book 
 to write the quotation in. He therefore asked if 
 the king would like him to write the quotation on 
 some leaf apart, as it was possible that other say- 
 
teer'ii %iiz of QLlixel}, 45 
 
 ings might occur to him hereafter which he would 
 like preserved in the same way. To this the king 
 willingly assented. Asser accordingly wrote the 
 quotation on a clean sheet, and, as he anticipated, 
 was desired to follow it up by three other quotations 
 that very day, so that the sheet soon became quite 
 full. " Thus," says his biographer, " like a most 
 industrious bee, he flew here and there, asking 
 questions as he went, until he had eagerly and un- 
 ceasingly collected many various flowers of Divine 
 Scriptures, with which he thickly stored the cells of 
 his mind." From the time that the first quotation 
 was copied he was at once eager to read, to translate 
 it into Saxon, and to teach it to others. He began 
 to study selections from the sacred writings, and to 
 put a number of them together in a book which he 
 called his Enchiridion, or Manual, because he con- 
 stantly kept it in hand, day and night. 
 
 Thus it was that the great king became a scholar. 
 It may be doubted whether more than two or three 
 of the kings of England after him, if even so many, 
 were able to read or write during the next five 
 hundred years or more. But Alfred not only set 
 himself to learn those accomplishments, but he 
 became an author, and translated a number of 
 valuable works from the Latin into his native 
 Anglo-Saxon, among others, as we have already 
 mentioned, the Ecclesiastical History of Bede. 
 
 His devoutness in dividing his revenues equally 
 between the service of God and secular uses, and 
 the methodical manner in which each half was 
 
46 iEfltlg Chroniclers of lisnglanti. 
 
 divided again, and apportioned to more specific 
 objects, are related by Asser with admiration. But 
 still more interesting is the mode in which he 
 divided his time. The stoiy, indeed, is very well 
 known, but may as well be related here from the 
 original authority : — 
 
 " He promised, as far as his infirmity and his means would 
 allow, to give up to God the half of his services, bodily and 
 mental, by night and by day, voluntarily and with all his 
 might ; but inasmuch as he could not equally distinguish the 
 lengths of the hours by night, on account of the darkness, 
 and ofttimes of the day, on account of the storms and clouds, 
 he began to consider by what means, and without any diffi- 
 culty, relying on the mercy of God, he might discharge the 
 promised tenor of his vow until his death. After long re- 
 flection on these things, he at length, by a useful and shrewd 
 invention, commanded his chaplains to supply wax in a suffi- 
 cient quantity, and he caused it to be weighed in such a 
 manner that when there was so much of it in the scales as 
 would equal the weight of seventy-two pence, he caused the 
 chaplains to make six candles thereof, each of equal length, 
 so that each candle might have twelve divisions marked 
 longitudinally upon it. By this plan, therefore, those six 
 candles burned for twenty-four hours — a night and a day — 
 without fail, before the sacred relics of many of God's elect, 
 which always accompanied him wherever he went ; but some- 
 times, when they would not continue burning a whole day 
 and night till the same hour that they were lighted the pre- 
 ceding evening, from the violence of the wind, which blew 
 day and night v/ithout intermission through the doors and 
 windows of the churches, the fissures of the divisions, the 
 plankings, or the wall, or the thin canvas of the tents, they 
 then unavoidably burned out, and finished their course before 
 tne appointed time. The king, therefore, considered by what 
 means he might shut out the wind ; and so, by a useful and 
 
SftStt'js 2ife of flLlfxeb 47 
 
 cunning invention, he ordered a lantern to be beautifully con- 
 structed of wood and white oxhorn, which, when skilfully 
 planed till it is thin, is no less transparent than a vessel of 
 glass. This lantern, therefore, was wonderfully made of wood 
 and horn, as we before said, and by night a candle was put 
 into it, which shone as brightly without as within, and was 
 not extinguished by the wind ; for the opening of the lantern 
 was also closed up, according to the king's command, by a 
 door made of horn. By this contrivance, then, six candles, 
 lighted in succession, lasted four and twenty hours, neither 
 more nor less, and when these were extinguished, others were 
 lighted." 
 
 Here we must close our notice of Asser, and of 
 historians prior to the Norman Conquest. It will 
 be observed that we have laid before the reader 
 three remarkable writers, each characteristic of his 
 time — writers of very unequal greatness, it is true, 
 but all alike necessary to be studied in connection 
 with their respective eras. Even in their very 
 nationality and surroundings they mark the state 
 of civilization each had before him, and who were 
 the favoured people of the day. The first is a 
 Briton, the second a northern Englishman, the 
 third a Briton again, but living at the court of a 
 southern Englishman, the first king of a united 
 England. In the first, we have a native writer 
 mourning over the destruction of his country, the 
 decay of Christianity, and the advance made by 
 a barbarous pagan enemy, who lay between his 
 countrymen and the civilization of Europe. In the 
 second, we find a descendant of the invaders, who 
 by this time have become Christian, telling the 
 
48 3Eatig ©ftrcmtcUrg ot ISnglanD. 
 
 glad story of the conversion of his ancestors, and 
 the spread of true religion among^ahis people. In 
 the time of the third writer, Britons and Englishmen 
 have become friends, and unite in Christian sym- 
 pathy against a new pagan invader — the Dane. 
 Such was the conflict of races in our island, and 
 such the struggle Christianity and civilization had 
 to pass through before the Norman Conquest. 
 

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 f f ^§SSk 
 
 iBE 
 
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 CHAPTER II. 
 
 RECORDS OF THE MONKS. 
 
 The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle — Influence of the Norman Conquest — 
 Chronicle of Battle Abbey — How monasteries fostered literature 
 and civilization — Florence of Worcester — Eadmer — His account 
 of St. Anselm — William of Malmesbury — Extracts touching the 
 effect of the Conquest — The First Crusade — Robert of Normandy 
 and Henry I. — The Gesta Stephani — Early report of a debate in 
 the king's council — Extract touching Bristol and Bath — The 
 Empress Maud — Henry of Huntingdon — Ordericus Vitalis. 
 
 IT -must be owned that the art of writing history- 
 languished after the days of Bede. For about 
 four centuries England scarcely produced any one 
 deserving the name of a historian. Yet during 
 that very period one remarkable record was pre- 
 served in the vernacular language, of all the im- 
 portant events from year to year ; and though for 
 the most part only a mere register of facts, it is 
 impossible to pass over in silence such a great 
 literary monument as the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. 
 Originated, as some believe, by King Alfred, and 
 certainly existing in his day, as indeed we have 
 ENG. E 
 
5<o lEarlg <&f)tomtht$ of lEnglanD, 
 
 had occasion to see already,* it was continued 
 from age to age by various hands till after the 
 death of Stephen. The mere language of the 
 different manuscripts affords an interesting study 
 to the philologist, the variations of the dialect in 
 different parts bearing witness to different degrees 
 of antiquity in the composition, and the existence 
 of concurrent texts in several places show that it 
 was transcribed and added to by different and 
 independent writers. The existing manuscripts 
 also come to an end at very different dates, and 
 special circumstances contained in particular texts 
 seem occasionally to indicate the monastery in 
 which a particular edition was composed. 
 
 Beginning with a description of the island of 
 Britain, and the races by whom it was originally in- 
 habited, which is simply an abridgment of Bede's 
 introductory chapter, followed by a brief notice of 
 the conquest by Julius Caesar, the text consists for 
 some time of a mere chronology of Roman and 
 Church history. The narrative becomes more 
 minute in the ninth century, when it records the 
 incursions of the Danes, especially during the time 
 of Alfred ; and the close agreement of all but one 
 of the existing manuscripts for the period of his 
 life has been noted as a strong presumption in 
 favour of the belief that it was by Alfred's order 
 the chronicle was originally compiled. After the 
 date of his death the variations in the text of the 
 different manuscripts become more frequent, and 
 
 * See p. 32. 
 
W)t j&axon ©fironfrle. 51 
 
 more material. The style, too, varies here and there 
 from the old type. The victories of Athelstan over 
 the Scots are recorded in verse ; and also the deeds 
 of King Edmund, King Edgar, the martyrdom of 
 King Edward, the death of Edward the Confessor, 
 and some other matters. But, on the whole, it 
 must be confessed that the contents of this chronicle 
 are very matter of fact ; and while the study of 
 it is indispensable to the historian, it can scarcely 
 be recommended as generally attractive reading. 
 Nevertheless there are passages in the latter part 
 which possess not a little graphic interest ; as, for 
 example, the following description of William the 
 Conqueror, written, as the extract shows, by one 
 who knew him personally : — 
 
 " If any would know what manner of man King William 
 was, the glory that he obtained, and of how many lands he was 
 lord, then will we describe him as we have known him, we, 
 who have looked upon him, and who once lived in his court. 
 This King William, of whom we are speaking, was a very wise 
 and a great man, and more honoured and more powerful than 
 any of his predecessors. He was mild to those good men who 
 loved God, but severe beyond measure towards those who 
 withstood his will. He founded a noble monastery on the spot 
 where God permitted him to conquer England, and he 
 established monks in it, and he made it very rich. In his 
 days the great monastery at Canterbury was built, and many 
 others also throughout England ; moreover, this land was 
 filled with monks, who lived after the rule of St. Benedict ; 
 and such was the state of religion in his days, that all that 
 would, might observe that which was prescribed by their 
 respective orders. King William was also held in much 
 reverence : he wore his crown three times a year, when he 
 
52 lEarlg ©Jjrontctog of lEnglanD. 
 
 was in England : at Easter he wore it at Winchester, at 
 Pentecost at Westminster, and at Christmas at Gloucester. 
 And at these times, all the men of England were with him, 
 archbishops, bishops, abbots and earls, thanes and knights. 
 So also was he a very stern and a wrathful man, so that 
 none durst do anything against his will, and he kept in 
 prison those earls who acted against his pleasure. He re- 
 moved bishops from their sees, and abbots from their offices, 
 and he imprisoned thanes, and at length he spared not his 
 own brother Odo. This Odo was a very powerful bishop 
 in Normandy, his see was that of Bayeux, and he was fore- 
 most to serve the king. He had an earldom in England, 
 and when William was in Normandy, he was the first man 
 in this country, and him did he cast into prison. Amongst 
 other things the good order that William established is not 
 to be forgotten ; it was such that any man who was himself 
 aught, might travel over the kingdom with a bosom-full of gold 
 unmolested ; and no man durst kill another, however great 
 the injury he might have received from him. He reigned 
 over England, and being sharp-sighted to his own interest, he 
 surveyed the kingdom so thoroughly that there was not a 
 single hide of land throughout the whole of which he knew 
 not the possessor, and how much it was worth, and this he 
 afterwards entered in his register.* The land of the Britons 
 {i.e. Wales) was under his sway, and he built castles therein ; 
 moreover he had full dominion over the Isle of Man (Angle- 
 sea). Scotland also was subject to him, from his great 
 strength ; the land of Normandy was his by inheritance, and 
 he possessed the earldom of Maine ; and had he lived two 
 years longer he would have subdued Ireland by his powers, 
 and that without a battle. Truly, there was much trouble 
 in these times, and very great distress ; he caused castles to 
 be built, and oppressed the poor. The king was also of great 
 sternness, and he took from his subjects many marks of gold, 
 and many hundred pounds of silver, and this either with or 
 without right, and with little need. He was given to avarice, 
 
 * This of course is the celebrated Domesday Book. 
 
©IK gbsxtm (Chronicle. 53 
 
 and greedily loved gain. He made large forests for the deer, 
 and enacted laws therewith, so that whoever killed a hart or 
 a hind should be blinded. As he forbade killing the deer 
 so also the boars ; and he loved the tall stags as if he were 
 their father. He also appointed concerning the hares that 
 they should go free. The rich complained, and the poor 
 murmured, but he was so sturdy that he recked nought of 
 them ; they must will all that the king willed, if they would 
 live, or would keep their lands, or would hold their posses- 
 sions, or would be maintained in their rights. Alas ! that 
 any man should so exalt himself, and carry himself in his 
 pride over all ! May Almighty God show mercy to his soul, 
 and grant him the forgivness of his sins. We have written 
 concerning him these things, good and bad, that virtuous 
 men might follow after the good and wholly avoid the evil, 
 and might go in the way that leadeth to the kingdom of 
 heaven." 
 
 From one passage in this extract it will be noted 
 that the Norman Conquest gave a considerable 
 impulse to the spread of monasticism in England. 
 It was politic in a king who desired to enforce order 
 and obedience to his own rule, to encourage the 
 establishment of communities which afforded a con- 
 spicuous example of discipline submitted to by the 
 general consent of the members. But William did 
 something more than encourage them. He himself 
 founded the magnificent abbey of Battle on the 
 scene of his great victory at Hastings ; and a 
 chronicle composed within the monastery itself 
 shows the remarkable interest he took both in the 
 original foundation and in its subsequent progress. 
 A few extracts from the substance of this chronicle 
 will exemplify his feeling on the subject. 
 
 William, it seems, had prosecuted his enterprise 
 
54 lEatlg ©fjronickrg of lEnglanti, 
 
 in spite of evil omens. On jumping ashore at 
 Hastings he fell upon his face, grasping the earth 
 with outstretched hands and making his nose bleed. 
 His followers whispered to each other their appre- 
 hensions. But the witty William Fitz Osbert, his 
 faithful sewer, met their objections with a clever 
 argument. " By my troth," he said, " it is a token 
 of prosperity, not of misfortune ; for, lo ! he hath 
 embraced England with both his hands and sealed 
 it to posterity with his own blood ; and thus by the 
 foreboding of divine Providence is he destined effec- 
 tually to win it!" His followers were equally dis- 
 mayed before the battle of Hastings itself when, as 
 they were helping each other on with their armour, 
 some one handed to Duke William a coat of mail, 
 with the wrong side foremost. The Duke, however, 
 quietly put it on ; said if he had any confidence in 
 omens or sorcery he would not that day go to 
 battle, but trusting himself only to his Creator, and 
 to encourage his followers, he made a vow that if 
 victorious he would erect a monastery on the field of 
 battle for the salvation of those who fought by his 
 side, and especially of those who fell. Among those 
 who heard the vow was one William, surnamed Faber, 
 or the Smith, a monk of Marmoutier in Normandy, 
 — so called because he had distinguished himself in 
 days before he was a monk, by manufacturing an 
 arrow at an emergency when he was one of a hunt- 
 ing party ; and after the victory, as time passed 
 away, and the king was continually occupied with 
 other matters, William the Smith still kept, the 
 
@5romcle of battle ®ftfag. 55 
 
 subject before him until steps were taken to execute 
 the design. At length William the Smith himself 
 was entrusted with its execution. He went over to 
 Marmoutier and brought back with him four monks 
 of that abbey to view the ground and make a com- 
 mencement. The four monks thought the battle- 
 field itself unsuitable. The ground was too high. 
 A little lower on the western slope of the hill would 
 be a more convenient site ; and there accordingly 
 they built some little dwellings. But the king, 
 inquiring about what they had done, was dissatisfied. 
 The monks told him the site he had prescribed was 
 on the top of a hill on a dry soil, and destitute of 
 water. William was angry and insisted that they 
 should build upon the very place where he had 
 gained the victory. " As for water," he said, " if God 
 spare my life I will so amply provide for this place 
 that wine shall be more abundant here than water in 
 any other great abbey ! " The monks then alleged 
 that no good stone could be found near about ; but 
 William, at his own expense, sent ships to Caen to 
 bring it. After a good deal of stone had been 
 imported, however, it was revealed — so went the 
 story — "to a certain religious matron that, upon 
 digging in the place indicated to her in a vision, 
 they would find plenty of stone for this purpose ;" 
 and on search being made accordingly an abundant 
 supply was discovered. 
 
 The work still went on slowly " on account of 
 some extortioners who sought their own things 
 rather than those of Jesus Christ, and laboured 
 
56 lEarlg ©ftronicletg of lEnglanti. 
 
 more in appearance than in truth. The brethren 
 too, were lukewarm, and built within the intended 
 circuit of the monastery mean dwellings of little 
 cost, for their own residence. And thus by an evil 
 example at first, things were put off from day to 
 day, and the royal treasures allotted for the further- 
 ance of the undertaking were improperly spent, and 
 many things conferred upon the place by the king's 
 devout liberality carelessly squandered." An abbot 
 was appointed who was accidentally drowned ; but 
 a successor was chosen in his place, under whom 
 both the buildings and the number of the brethren 
 increased. This abbot, by name Gausbert, was con- 
 secrated in the year 1076, just ten years after the 
 battle, by Stigand, bishop of Chichester. The bishop 
 at first insisted that the new abbot should come to 
 Chichester and have the rite performed there ; but 
 the abbot went to the king, who, zealous for the 
 honour of the monastery he himself had founded, 
 insisted that the bishop should go to Battle, and 
 consecrate him in the abbey church itself. Even 
 so, when abbot Gausbert some time afterwards paid 
 a visit for devotion's sake to the parent monastery 
 of Marmoutier where he himself had been a monk, 
 the abbot and convent of that monastery seized the 
 opportunity to establish their superiority over Battle. 
 
 " They endeavoured to cause the abbot to receive ordina- 
 tion in their chapter-house, and thenceforward to compel him 
 to go thither as often as they should summon him. But 
 Gausbert perceived their design, and when, after his return 
 to England, he was repeatedly summoned to Marmoutier, 
 
 
©jjtontck of battle ^fclieg. 57 
 
 refused to comply, but repaired to court and complained to 
 the king. Whereupon the king was angry, and ordered all 
 the monks of Marmoutier who were with him to be sent 
 away. He even threatened the abbot himself: c By the 
 splendour of God !' said he — for that was his accustomed 
 oath — ' if you cross the sea for such an object, or if you evei 
 go thither again, you shall never return to England to take 
 charge of my abbey.' The abbot obeyed, and thus quieted 
 all claims of this kind, and the king confirmed the abbey of 
 Battle in its freedom from all subjection to Marmoutier for 
 ever." 
 
 From passages like these we can form a pretty 
 good idea how even within the walls of monasteries 
 the influence of the Conqueror was felt in the en- 
 forcement of discipline and order. Monasticism 
 under the Saxon rule was always showing symp- 
 toms of decay. In the north of England it had 
 reached its highest state of development in the 
 eighth century. The foundation of Whitby abbey 
 by St. Hilda, and of the two monasteries of Wear- 
 mouth and Jarrow, in Durham, in the latter of 
 which Bede ended his days, had rendered con- 
 spicuous service both to literature and to devotion. 
 Both high and low took refuge from the world in 
 these seclusions. St. Hilda was herself of royal 
 blood ; and soon after the death of Bede even the 
 king of Northumbria, to whom he had dedicated 
 his history, abdicated the throne to assume the 
 cowl at Lindisfarne. Another revival took place in 
 the south of England under St. Dunstan, in the 
 tenth century, seconded by the efforts of King 
 Edgar and of Ethelwold bishop of Winchester. 
 
58 lEarlg ©frronkUrg of lEnglanD, 
 
 But with all this the number of Saxon monasteries 
 was small, and religious discipline had very much 
 declined before the invasion of the Normans. 
 
 Yet it was in these retreats that all the litera- 
 ture the age possessed was written, preserved, and 
 handed down to posterity. Literature, indeed, was 
 but one of several industries continually practised 
 by those communities ; for it was only by small 
 societies living in seclusion that the arts of peace 
 and civilization could make any progress in days of 
 violence and barbarism. Hard labour was the essen- 
 tial principle of their discipline ; nor would it have 
 been possible for the young communities to subsist 
 without it. Each brother had his appointed work, 
 whether it were in the field, in the garden, in the 
 kitchen, or in the library. The very buildings of 
 the monastery were the work of the monks' own 
 hands ; nor was there any kind of drudgery needful 
 to the general weal that was held in disrepute. 
 The "dignity of labour" did not require to be 
 vindicated to men who felt its holiness. The archi- 
 tect and the mason were not divided ; and we have 
 it on record that St. Hugh, bishop of Lincoln, 
 carried a hod, and laboured with his own hands at 
 the building of his own cathedral. 
 
 Among our Anglo-Saxon ancestors, although 
 discipline had relaxed considerably before the 
 conquest, these institutions had still produced very 
 important and salutary effects. It has been re- 
 marked that among them, as among the original 
 German races described by Tacitus, agriculture 
 
Saiiourg of t|K JWonitf, 59 
 
 was in disrepute, or at least very generally 
 neglected. The Saxon laws contain numerous 
 provisions as regards cattle and pasturage, but 
 comparatively few that relate to the enclosure and 
 cultivation of land, or the disposal of its produce. 
 But in every monastery the land was the principal 
 care. Each day after the service of prime the 
 monks assembled in their chapter-house, and the 
 prior assigned to each his particular labour for the 
 day. A few prayers were offered to ask a blessing 
 on their work, and the brethren marched, two and 
 two, in silence to their allotted task in the fields. 
 
 " From Easter till the beginning of October they were thus 
 occupied, from six o'clock in the morning, in some instances 
 until ten, in others until noon, the duration of the labour 
 being probably modified according to the locality of the 
 monastery, or the nature of the occupation. The more widely 
 the system was diffused, the more extensive were its benefits. 
 In addition to the monks, lay brethren and servants were 
 employed in considerable numbers, and as these received 
 payment in corn, their services in turn demanded the culti- 
 vation of an increased extent of arable land. When the 
 quantity thus broken up and brought into tillage so far 
 exceeded the immediate requirements of the monastery as to 
 permit some portion of it to be leased out, payment of rent 
 was made rather in labour and in produce than in money ; 
 and numerous privileges of various kinds were granted upon 
 the same conditions. Thus each monastery became the 
 central point of civilization." * 
 
 As to literary labour, that was only, like every 
 other industry, a great means of avoiding idleness, 
 
 * I have quoted these remarks from Mr. Stevenson's preface to 
 the second volume of his Chronicle of Abingdon, pp. xiv. — xvi. 
 
60 lEarlg ©fwonklcrg of lEnglano. 
 
 beneficial to the souls of those who practised it as 
 done for the benefit of others. Some discernment, 
 indeed, was used in the allotment of functions ; but 
 any monk might, at his abbot's desire, be called 
 upon for a time to work with the pen instead of 
 with the spade or the implements of cookery. For 
 monks as a rule were taught to write, but no one 
 was allowed to do so without the permission of his 
 abbot. All the transcribing, and all the original 
 composition, done in the monastery, was done in 
 the scriptorium, or writing chamber, by command of 
 the abbot and during the hours of daylight. No 
 one could enter or leave that chamber without 
 permission ; and no one was allowed to execute 
 any other work than the specific task assigned to 
 him. Strict silence was observed in that place of 
 study, and when it was necessary to communicate 
 with the armarius, or librarian, the message was 
 conveyed by signs. If the accuracy of a transcript 
 was to be tested by reading aloud, the work was 
 done in an adjoining chamber. 
 
 There was also a methodical division of labour. 
 The armarius portioned out the work by the 
 abbot's order ; and the writers who had charge of 
 the text left spaces for rubrics, ornamented capitals, 
 vignettes and other illustrations, which were after- 
 wards filled in by other hands. The armarius 
 bound up the books, when completed, in wooden 
 covers, inspected the whole library two or three 
 times a year, repaired injured volumes, and took 
 care that they were all properly classified and 
 
Safcourg of fye 0tonk&, 61 
 
 marked with their proper titles. He provided the 
 transcribers with parchment, ink, pens, penknives, 
 chalk, pumice-stone for rubbing the parchment, 
 knives to cut it with, awls to mark the lines, a 
 ruler and a plummet, which he himself also used 
 to note omissions in the margin, and a weight to 
 keep down the vellum. He also made contracts 
 with hired transcribers who were occasionally en- 
 gaged to work outside the monastery. 
 
 "The chief work done in the scriptorium" says Sir 
 Thomas Hardy,* to whose researches we are indebted for 
 the information we have just been communicating, " was the 
 transcribing of missals and other service books, not only for 
 the use of the house to which it appertained, but for that of 
 smaller religious houses not sufficiently wealthy to maintain 
 a scriptorium. If the writers were not employed on any 
 special work, and a large number of copies of some popular 
 treatise was required, a skilful transcriber, well versed in that 
 particular subject, read aloud, whilst the rest copied from his 
 dictation. To this practice may be attributed the great 
 variety of orthography observable in manuscripts written at 
 the same time and even in the same house. Great pains 
 were taken in copying the classics, the Latin fathers, and all 
 books of scholastic learning ; but comparatively little labour 
 seems to have been bestowed on the execution of books 
 relating to national or monastic histoiy, unless they were in- 
 tended for presents." 
 
 It was only in monasteries that literature could 
 then be produced, and the value of these institu- 
 tions in preserving records of the principal occur- 
 rences must have been recognized at a very early 
 
 * Descriptive Catalogue of Materials relating to the History of 
 Great Britain and Ireland, vol. iii., preface xviii. 
 
62 lEatlg <3%otttckr{S f lEnglatrti. 
 
 period. John Fordun, a late fourteenth century- 
 writer, is the earliest authority for a statement that 
 has been disputed by some — that special persons 
 were appointed in the greater abbeys to note events 
 and digest them into annals at the end of every 
 year. But there is ample evidence that in the days 
 of our early kings the monasteries, especially those 
 of royal foundation, were regarded as treasure- 
 houses of important facts and sometimes enjoined 
 to preserve among their own records public docu- 
 ments of high significance. An exemplification 
 of the Charter of Liberties granted by Henry I. 
 was sent to each of the principal abbeys through- 
 out the country. So also was the Magna Charta 
 of King John, which was never recorded in the 
 King's Chancery. So Edward I. in 1291, sent 
 orders by writ of privy seal to various monasteries 
 to search their chronicles and other records for 
 evidence as to the vassalage of Scotland ; and 
 when the sovereignty of that country was after- 
 wards claimed by the pope, he on summoning the 
 parliament at Lincoln in 1301, again ordered 
 similar investigations to be made, and commanded 
 the information found to be transmitted to himself 
 at the parliament. But the most distinct evidence 
 of the truth of Fordun's statement is found in the 
 fact that the historian Matthew Paris in the year 
 1247, three years before the completion of his 
 Flores Historiarum, being present by the king's 
 command at a celebration of the feast of Edward 
 the Confessor, was ordered to take his seat on the 
 
^Florence of S^otccgtcr. 63 
 
 middle step between the throne and the area of 
 the hall, and to write a full account of the pro- 
 ceedings that the facts might always stand on 
 record. It is clear, therefore, that Matthew Paris 
 was distinctly acknowledged as the historiographer 
 of St. Alban's monastery, long before the comple- 
 tion of his history.* 
 
 It was in monasteries, then, that past acts were 
 committed to writing ; and for a long time after 
 the days of Bede, they were recorded in annals the 
 most bald, dry, and matter-of-fact that could well 
 be imagined. Even after the conquest there was 
 no immediate change in the form of these compo- 
 sitions, nor even is their number very much 
 augmented ; for besides the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle 
 itself there is really but one native source of infor- 
 mation to be met with for a long time ; and 
 that is a writer in the monastery of Worcester, 
 commonly called Florence of Worcester, who is 
 believed to have translated largely from some copy 
 of the Anglo-Savon Chronicle not now extant. 
 
 The work of Florence, however, deserves men- 
 tion as the earliest example in this country of a 
 kind of composition of which there are many in 
 later times, — a universal chronicle beginning with 
 the creation of the world, and embracing, in due 
 sequence, the history of all nations both ancient 
 and modern. In recent editions of Florence of 
 Worcester, all the earlier portion of the work has 
 been omitted as containing nothing- of value to the 
 
 * Hardy's Catalogue iii., preface xvili., xx. 
 
64 lEarig ©Ijromclerg of lEnglatrt). 
 
 modern inquirer, and indeed nothing specially 
 characteristic of the author. The universal chronicle, 
 in fact, was not composed by Florence himself, 
 but was taken from that of Marianus Scotus, an 
 Irishman, who spent the latter half of his life 
 abroad and died at Mayence about the year 1082. 
 This work Florence adopted as his basis and ampli- 
 fied in the latter part with a large number of 
 notices of English affairs, about which Marianus is 
 almost entirely silent. So numerous, indeed, are 
 these interpolations that from the date of the 
 coming of the Saxons into England we almost lose 
 sight of foreign affairs, and of the text of Marianus 
 altogether. Yet the style is still the same as that 
 of the Saxon Chronicle, — plain, clear, dry, and 
 matter-of-fact, without either oratorical embellish- 
 ment or warmth of declamation. The text, in fact, 
 for a long period, is little more than a translation 
 of that Chronicle, incorporating also Asser's Life 
 of Alfred ; and how much is really original on the 
 part of Florence himself it is difficult to say. The 
 Chronicle is a most valuable store of facts, but it is 
 nothing more. Two continuations, added to it by 
 other hands, bring down the history to the days of 
 Edward I., and are on the whole somewhat mofe 
 interesting than the original work. 
 
 The latest manuscript of the Saxon Chronicle, 
 breaks off abruptly just after the accession of 
 Henry I. It would seem, therefore, that the new 
 literary influences at the court of Henry Beauclerc 
 at once extinguished a mode of recording events 
 
lEa&mer. 65 
 
 which was no longer necessary. A real Anglo- 
 Saxon literature could not long survive the exist- 
 ence of the Anglo-Saxon kingdom. After the 
 conquest it became more and more of an anachro- 
 nism. For a time the facts were recorded as 
 before in what was still the language of the people ; 
 but the increased communication with the conti- 
 nent, and with continental scholars in days when 
 every one who could read at all must have been 
 able to read Latin, made it ultimately impossible 
 to continue the practice. So the Saxon Chronicle 
 died, as it has been said, of pure exhaustion, and a 
 new race of historians continued the account of 
 this country's progress. 
 
 Of these new historians the first was Eadmer, a 
 monk of Canterbury, who wrote, not a universal 
 chronicle, but a history of his own time (Historia 
 Novorum, sive sui sceculi) in six books, which has 
 been four times printed. This Eadmer, who is 
 supposed to have been born about the year 1060 
 (in which case he must have been a child at the time 
 of the Norman Conquest) was a devoted friend of 
 Archbishop Anselm, and shared his exile on the 
 continent when William Rufus was displeased with 
 him. One of the main objects of his work is to 
 give an account of this dispute between the king 
 and the archbishop, which, as is well known, arose 
 on the question of investiture. On this subject, as 
 Sir Thomas Hardy remarks, Eadmer may be natur- 
 ally suspected of being a partial authority, but 
 that he states the arguments on either side with 
 
 ENCr. F 
 
66 iEarlg ©Urometers of lEnglarttJ. 
 
 apparently great fidelity. After Anselm's death 
 he also enjoyed the friendship of his successor, 
 Archbishop Radulf or Ralph (d'Escures) in whose 
 company he paid a visit to Rome. When he came 
 back he was elected bishop of St. Andrew's, but 
 having a dispute about his consecration with 
 Thurstan, Archbishop of York, he preferred to 
 give up his see and return to his old monastery. 
 He is supposed to have died about the year 1124.* 
 
 Eadmer was instigated to compose this work, as 
 he himself tells us in the preface, by the great 
 difficulty which he knew to be experienced by many 
 men in that day in obtaining knowledge of past 
 events ; which made him think that those who had 
 left behind them written accounts of their own 
 times had done a great thing for posterity. The 
 work, however, is more of an ecclesiastical than a 
 political history. Written with great clearness and 
 elegance, it briefly traces the history of the English 
 Church from the days of Edgar and St. Dunstan 
 to those of Lanfranc, and gives a pretty full 
 account of transactions under William Rufus and 
 Henry I. At first the author had intended to 
 conclude with the death of Anselm ; but after 
 completing so much of the history in four books 
 he was induced by the satisfaction the work had 
 given to a large number of readers to add two 
 books more. 
 
 As an example of the general character of the 
 work we give a slightly abridged translation of the 
 
 * Hardy, ii. 147. 
 
Satimer. 6 7 
 
 passages relating to the election of Anselrn to the 
 see of Canterbury : — 
 
 " On the death of William I., his son William II. promised 
 with the most solemn oaths to Archbishop Lan franc, without 
 whose assent he could not obtain the kingdom (for he feared 
 that the delay of his coronation would entail loss of the 
 coveted honour), that if he became king he would rule the 
 whole kingdom with justice, equity, and mercy, and defend 
 the Church against all who would invade her liberties. But 
 after he was crowned he little regarded this promise, and in 
 answer to the reproaches of Lanfranc he asked in anger, 
 'Who is there who can fulfil everything that he has 
 promised ? ' After Lanfranc's death he invaded Canterbury 
 cathedral, took an inventory of the property, taxed the living 
 of the monks, and, in effect, set the rest up to auction to the 
 highest bidder. The king's satellites invaded the cloisters, 
 demanding the king's money with threats, to the scandal of 
 religion. Some of the monks sought refuge in other monas- 
 teries, the rest endured many trials and outrages. The same 
 cruelty was practised in every monastery or cathedral, on the 
 death of the abbot or bishop, for nearly five years. 
 
 " In the fourth year Hugh, Earl of Chester, invited Anselm, 
 Abbot of Bee, into England, to inspect a church within his 
 domains which he intended to convert into a monastery. 
 Anselm declined ; for people had begun to talk about him in 
 private and say that if he came to England he would be 
 made Archbishop of Canterbury, which was quite against his 
 inclination ; indeed, he was firmly resolved not to undertake 
 such an office. The earl, however, fell ill and sent to 
 Anselm, entreating him for old friendship to come to him at 
 once for his spiritual consolation. After repeated messages 
 the earl warned him that if he still delayed to come to him 
 he would regret it through all eternity. Anselm was moved 
 to depart from his resolution. He had other causes, indeed, 
 relating to his own church, for wishing to go to England, but 
 had been restrained hitherto by that one fear of being made 
 
68 lEarlg ©ijromderg of 3EngIanfc. 
 
 archbishop. He crossed the Channel, landed at Dover, and 
 found the earl recovered from his illness. He was detained 
 in England nearly five months and nothing was said of his 
 promotion, so that he seemed to have escaped the danger he 
 so much apprehended ; but on desiring from the king a 
 licence to return, he was refused. Meanwhile the lords 
 assembled at the king's court at Christmas complained of 
 the delay in filling up the see, and urged the king (a thing 
 posterity will hardly credit) that he would allow prayers to be 
 put up in the churches throughout England that God would 
 inspire him with pity to allow a new pastor to be appointed 
 and relieve the Church from its oppression. The king, 
 though enraged, assented, saying whatever the Church 
 demanded he meant to have his own way in the end. 
 The bishops then consulted Anselm, who, though loth 
 to be preferred to them even in such a matter, drew up a 
 form of prayer for the occasion which was approved by the 
 whole nobility. 
 
 " Meanwhile, one of the principal lords happened one day 
 to remark to the king that he knew no man of such sanctity 
 as the Abbot of Bee, for he loved nothing but God, and in all 
 his doings cared for nothing transitory. ' For nothing, 
 replied the king, derisively, ' what, not even for the Arch- 
 bishopric of Canterbury ? ' The other replied, ' For that 
 least of all, in my opinion, and in that of many others.' The 
 king swore that Anselm would run to embrace him, if he had 
 any confidence he could by any means attain to it. And he 
 added, ' By the Holy Face of Lucca' (for so he was wont to 
 swear), 'neither he nor any one else but myself shall be arch- 
 bishop this time.' On saying this immediately a serious ill- 
 ness overtook him, and laid him on his bed till after some 
 days he seemed on the point of death. All the nobles and 
 councillors assembled, expecting his decease. He was 
 advised to think of the weal of his soul, open the prisons, 
 release the captives, forgive debts, and restore liberty to the 
 churches by allowing them pastors, especially Canterbury, as 
 the oppression to which it had been subjected was known 
 
lEaDmer. 69 
 
 throughout Christendom. At that time Anselm, ignorant of 
 all this, was staying not far from Gloucester, where the king 
 was ill. He was sent for to come to the king in all haste 
 and to fortify him in the hour of death by his presence. 
 Hearing the news, he makes speed and comes. He enters to 
 the king, is asked what counsel he judged most wholesome 
 for the dying man. He first desires to be informed what had 
 been thought best for the sick man by those about him in his 
 absence. He hears, approves, and adds, ' It is written, 
 " Begin to the Lord in confession ; " so it appears to me that 
 first of all he should make a pure confession what he knows 
 he has done against God, and promise that if he recover 
 health he will amend everything without feigning, and then 
 order those things which you advise to be done without delay.' 
 This advice is approved of, and the duty of receiving the 
 confession is committed to himself. It is reported to the 
 king what Anselm thought expedient for the welfare of his 
 soul. He immediately acquiesces, and with compunction of 
 heart promises to do everything that Anselm recommended, 
 and henceforth to lead a life of gentleness and uprightness. 
 To this he pledges his faith, and appoints his bishops as 
 sureties between himself and God, commissioning some of 
 them to make this vow upon the altar in his name. An edict 
 is written out and confirmed with the king's seal, by which 
 all captives in his dominion are released, all debts irrevocably 
 remitted, all offences heretofore perpetrated committed to 
 perpetual oblivion. The people are, moreover, promised 
 good and holy laws, inviolable observance of justice, and a 
 serious inquiry as to wrongdoings which should terrify others. 
 There was universal joy, and thanks were given to God with 
 prayers for the salvation of such and so great a king. 
 
 " Meanwhile the king is advised by some good men to re- 
 lease the common mother of the whole kingdom [the Church 
 of Canterbury] from her state of widowhood. He consents 
 willingly, and confesses he had this in his mind. It is asked, 
 therefore, who could be most worthy of this honour. But all 
 awaiting the king's reply he himself announced — and universal 
 
70 lEatlg ©fcrontclerg of 3Englan&. 
 
 applause followed the declaration — that the Abbot Anselm 
 was most worthy. Anselm at this was terror-struck and grew 
 pale ; and when he was taken to the king that he might 
 receive the archiepiscopal investiture from his hand, he 
 resisted with all his power and declared that for many causes 
 it could not be done. The bishops therefore take him apart 
 and say to him, ' What are you doing ? What do you mean ? 
 Why do you strive against God ? You see that almost all 
 Christianity has perished in England, everything has got into 
 confusion, all abominations have broken out, and everywhere 
 we ourselves and the churches we ought to rule have fallen 
 in danger of eternal death by the tyranny of this man ; and 
 you, when you have power to relieve us, scorn to do so.' He 
 answered, ' Bear with me, I pray you. I acknowledge it is 
 true, tribulations are many and have need of help. But con- 
 sider, I pray. I am old, and impatient of every earthly 
 labour. How then can I, who cannot labour for myself, 
 undertake the labour of th« whole Church throughout 
 England ? Moreover, my conscience bears me witness that 
 ever since I became a monk I have shunned secular affairs, 
 nor could I ever willingly apply myself to them, for I find 
 nothing in them to excite interest in me.' ' Well,' said they, 
 ' do not fear to take upon yourself the primacy of the Church, 
 and go before us in the way of God, giving orders what we 
 shall do and we pledge ourselves to obey you. Do you devote 
 yourself to God for us and we will attend to secular matters 
 for you.' ' Impossible,' he said ; ' I am abbot of a monastery 
 in another kingdom, having an archbishop over me and an 
 earthly prince to whom I owe subjection, and monks to whom 
 I am bound to afford counsel and aid. I cannot leave my 
 monks without their consent, nor forsake my allegiance with- 
 out my prince's permission, nor withdraw myself from obedi- 
 ence to my archbishop without his absolution.' 'But you 
 will easily gain the consent of them all,' said they. Anselm 
 remained obstinate, and was taken to the king, who being 
 told of his persistent refusal was distressed to tears, and said, 
 ' O Anselm, what is it that you do ? Why do you deliver me 
 
 
lEatimcr. 7 1 
 
 to eternal torments ? Remember, I pray you, the faithful 
 friendship my father and mother always bore to you and you 
 to them ; by it I conjure you not to allow their son to perish 
 both in soul and body. For I am sure that I shall so perish 
 if I die keeping the archbishopric in my hands. Help, there- 
 fore, good father, and accept the archbishopric, for the reten- 
 tion of which I shall be too much confounded and fear lest 
 I shall be further confounded to eternity.' The bystanders 
 were pricked at these words, and as Anselm still refused to 
 undertake such a charge they broke in, and said to him with 
 some indignation — ' What madness has taken possession of 
 you ? You annoy the king — you positively kill him. If you do 
 not fear to exasperate him by your obstinacy when he is 
 dying, be assured that all the troubles, oppressions, and 
 crimes which henceforth will press upon England will be 
 imputed to you if you do not obviate them now by accepting 
 the pastoral office.' Placed in these difficulties Anselm turns 
 to two monks that were with him, Baldwin and Eustace, and 
 said to them — ' Ah, brothers, why do you not help me ? ' He 
 said this (before God I lie not) in such a state of anxiety, as 
 he was wont to affirm, that if he had then been given his 
 choice, he would (but for reverence to the will of God) gladly 
 have preferred to die rather than be promoted to the arch- 
 bishopric. Baldwin therefore replied — ' If it be the will of 
 God that it should be so, shall we oppose His will ? ' These 
 words were followed by tears, and the tears by an effusion of 
 blood from his nostrils, showing plainly to every one from 
 what condition of heart the words proceeded. Hearing this 
 answer, Anselm said, l Alas, how soon your staff is broken ! ' 
 The king, therefore, perceiving that all his labour was in vain, 
 ordered them all to fall at his feet, if by any means they 
 could gain his consent. But when they fell, he fell too before 
 the king's feet, nor would he be moved from his first inten- 
 tion. But they being provoked at him, and accusing each 
 other of sloth for the delay which they had suffered in 
 meeting his objections, cried out, ' Bring the pastoral staff, 
 the pastoral staff ! ' And seizing his right arm, some 
 
72 3Ear!j) ®btowxhr,$ of lEngtanti. 
 
 dragged, some pushed him to the king's bed-side. The king 
 delivered the staff to him, but he clenched his hand and 
 refused to take it by any means. The bishops attempted to 
 raise his fingers, so as to get the staff put into his hand, but 
 having spent some time in vain in this effort, and he com- 
 plaining of the injury done him, at length they got the fore- 
 finger raised, which he immediately bent back again, and 
 the staff was placed in his closed hand, and was held down 
 and retained in it by the hands of the bishops. The multi- 
 tude exclaimed, ' Long live the bishop, long live the bishops 
 and clergy ! " They began to chant the Te Deum, and carried, 
 rather than led, the elect archbishop into the neighbouring 
 church, he resisting all that he could, and saying, ' It is naught 
 that you do, it is naught.' The usual ceremonies being per- 
 formed, Anselm returns to the king and says to him — ' I tell 
 you, lord king, that in this illness you will not die, and for 
 this reason I wish you to know how you may well correct 
 what has now been done about me, because I never granted, 
 nor do I grant, that it is valid.' This said, he turned back 
 and departed from him. But the bishops and all the nobility 
 leading him away, he passed out of the chamber. Then 
 turning to them, he broke out in these words : ' Do you 
 know what it is you attempt ? You propose to yoke an 
 untamed bull and an old and feeble sheep together in one 
 yoke to the plough. And what will come of it ? The un- 
 tameable fierceness of the bull will so tear the sheep, dragging 
 it hither and thither through thorns and brambles, that though 
 fruitful in wool, milk, and lambs, if it do not throw off the 
 yoke, it will be unable to yield any of these things, and will 
 be no longer of any service, either to itself or any one else. 
 You have acted unwisely. Have regard to the plough of the 
 Church, as the Apostle says (i Cor. iii. 9), "Ye are God's 
 husbandry, God's building." This plough in England two 
 specially strong oxen draw and govern, the king and the 
 Archbishop of Canterbury — the one in secular justice and 
 dominion, the other in divine teaching and authority. One 
 of these oxen, Archbishop Lanfranc, is dead ; the other, with 
 
 
lEalimcr. 73 
 
 the untameable ferocity of a bull, is now found in possession 
 of the plough, and you, instead of the dead ox, wish to yoke 
 me, an old feeble sheep, with the untamed bull ! ' With these 
 and other words, unable to disguise his grief of heart he burst 
 into tears and went to his own home." 
 
 I have been the more willing to quote this 
 
 remarkable passage at length, or with very slight 
 
 abridgment here and there, because it has never 
 
 been translated before, and the substance of the 
 
 facts it contains is known to the general reader 
 
 only through modern biographers of Anselm, who 
 
 interpret his conduct according to the bent of their 
 
 own minds. Taken in its simplicity, as I think it 
 
 ought to be, it certainly contains things that the 
 
 writer was justified in suspecting posterity would 
 
 hardly credit. But on the other hand, it surely 
 
 exhibits to us one of the most typical examples, 
 
 and reveals with peculiar distinctness the character 
 
 of the great struggle going on in that day between 
 
 temporal and spiritual authority. It was, in fact, the 
 
 struggle between power and conscience ; between 
 
 power, ever strongly desirous to assert itself, and 
 
 conscience anxious to decline, if possible, a very 
 
 unequal combat. It was an age when conscience 
 
 only seemed safe in the seclusion of a monastery 
 
 and by no means desired to be dragged from 
 
 thence by violence to do battle with the kings of 
 
 this world. Yet, somehow, as will happen in all 
 
 ages, even kings could not do altogether without 
 
 it ; and the recluse had to be brought forth into 
 
 the light of day to speak his mind before the rulers 
 
74 lEarlg ©Stontclerg of lEnglanti. 
 
 of the earth. Anselm's strong reluctance to assume 
 responsibility gave his words all the greater weight 
 when it was forced upon him ; and though driven 
 into exile afterwards for his integrity, he was 
 recalled by Henry I. on his accession, in a manner 
 which showed clearly that conscience had won the 
 victory. " I," wrote the new king to the refugee, 
 " I, by the will of God, elected by the clergy and 
 people of England, and, although unwillingly on 
 account of your absence, now consecrated king, 
 along with the whole people of England, beseech 
 you as a father that you will come as soon as 
 possible and give counsel to me your son, and to 
 the same people the care of whose souls is com- 
 mitted to you. Myself and the people of the whole 
 realm of England I commit to your counsel and to 
 that of those who ought to counsel me along with 
 you." 
 
 The seclusion of a monastery is not the kind of 
 influence which we should naturally expect to pro- 
 mote a knowledge of the world. Yet even in this 
 respect the monk of those days appears to advan- 
 tage in comparison with the rough warriors and 
 kings of whom he tells us. The seclusion, in fact, 
 as what we have related clearly shows, was by no 
 means so close as to prevent a very considerable 
 amount of contact with the outer world. Either in 
 the affairs of his house, or for some other reason, an 
 abbot found it occasionally necessary to go, or send 
 one of his brethren, into other countries — most fre- 
 quently to Rome; and in the case of Eadmer, we 
 
l£atim«r. 75 
 
 have a junior member of a monastic house accom- 
 panying an archbishop on that journey. At Rome, 
 the very centre of the world, the monk learned to 
 appreciate the politics of his own day in a way that 
 no one else could ; and he carried back into his 
 convent and imparted to his brethren a more or 
 less sagacious account of all that was going on. It 
 was impossible that the tyranny of his own king 
 should altogether tame him when escape to Rome 
 was at once a safety-valve and means of enlighten- 
 ment which enabled him to hold the king himself 
 in check. In the convent he could take counsel 
 with his brethren, men who probably knew far more 
 about European affairs, as well as the past history 
 of their own country, than the king's council itself. 
 It was in monasteries, therefore, that the great 
 statesmen of the day were educated ; and by their 
 influence even the selfish and capricious conduct of 
 tyrants was reduced to something like a practical 
 aim, and governed by an intelligible purpose. 
 
 At present, however, we are concerned with the 
 monk only in his capacity of historian. 
 
 Eadmer was avowedly the historian of his own 
 times only, and, as we have seen, his sole concern 
 is with ecclesiastical affairs. But he was immedi- 
 ately followed by other writers, who took a more 
 comprehensive view, tracing the whole course of 
 English history, alike in its ecclesiastical and in its 
 civil and political aspects, back from the days of 
 Bede, and adding very lively descriptions of what 
 was done in their own day. To these historians 
 we must now turn our attention. 
 
76 lEarlg ©ftrontclerg cf lEnglanD. 
 
 William of Malmesbury, as he himself informs 
 us,* was partly of English, and partly of Norman 
 parentage, — a circumstance from which, as he con- 
 sidered, and we have no doubt truly, he was able 
 to take a more dispassionate view of the acts of 
 William the Conqueror than was commonly done 
 in his day by either party. He was born appa- 
 rently about thirty years after the conquest, as it 
 appears by some of his writings that Henry I. was 
 dead when he attained his fortieth year, and he also 
 mentions having witnessed, when a boy, certain 
 things which took place at Malmesbury in the time 
 of Abbot Godfrey, who died in the year 1105. He 
 was probably placed at Malmesbury by his parents 
 for the sake of his education, in which he shows 
 that they both took very great interest. From his 
 childhood he took a delight in books, in which he 
 was encouraged by his father, and the love of lite- 
 rature grew with advancing years. " Indeed," he 
 says, " I was so instructed by my father that, had I 
 turned aside to other pursuits, I should have con- 
 sidered it as jeopardy to my soul and discredit to 
 my character." In due time he became a monk at 
 the place where he was brought up. He collected 
 books for the use of the monastery, and was made 
 their librarian, and afterwards precentor. In the 
 year 1 140, when the monastery, which had been 
 annexed by Roger, bishop of Salisbury, to his see, 
 obtained leave on his death to choose its own 
 abbots as formerly, William declined that very 
 
 , Gesta Regum, Book iii, preface. 
 
William of J&almegfeurg. 77 
 
 onerous office in favour of his colleague John, by 
 whom the house, as he states, was rescued from 
 thraldom.* In 1 141 he took part in the council at 
 Winchester against King Stephen ; and he prob- 
 ably died in or shortly after 1 142, the year in which 
 his latest work, the Historia Novella abruptly comes 
 to an end. 
 
 This is all that is known of the life of the man. 
 Of his intellectual capacity and literary powers his 
 works bear witness. His reputation as an author 
 in his own day was wide-spread, and he received 
 requests from various monasteries to write the 
 history of their communities or the lives of their 
 patron saints ; in compliance with which he wrote 
 for the monks of Glastonbury the lives of St. 
 Patrick and St. Dunstan, besides other treatises of 
 the miracles and martyrdoms of particular saints. 
 His industry appears to have been unflagging, and 
 in the composition of his principal works he seems 
 to have exhausted all the materials that were then 
 available. But what is more remarkable is the 
 clear and lucid style in which he has woven all 
 the information that he found into a connected 
 narrative. He is a genuine historian, not a dry 
 compiler of annals like the writers who preceded 
 him ; and he himself feels keenly the disgrace that 
 no one since the days of Bede had succeeded in 
 producing a readable history of English affairs. 
 
 Nor is his work less valuable in respect of the 
 
 * "Hardy's Descriptive Catalogue," ii. 155. W. Malm., Gesta 
 Reg. and Hist. Novella. 
 
73 lEarlg Chroniclers of lEnglanl). 
 
 judgment he displays in dealing with the informa- 
 tion handed down to him. In many instances, 
 recording a doubtful story, he is careful to state 
 that he reports it merely as it was given to him ; 
 and even in writing about the miracles of saints he 
 is generally anxious to make the first authors of 
 those legends responsible for their truth. His mind 
 had received a training in youth which evidently 
 had raised him greatly above the superstitions of 
 the time and made him an excellent judge of 
 evidences, both physical and moral. He tells us 
 himself of his early studies that he had devoted 
 himself to various branches of literature, though 
 not with equal ardour. In logic he had been 
 content merely to be a listener. Medicine he had 
 studied with somewhat more attention. " But 
 now," he says, " having scrupulously examined 
 the several branches of ethics, I bow down to its 
 majesty, because it spontaneously unveils itself to 
 those who study it, and directs their minds to moral 
 practice ; history more especially, which, by an 
 agreeable recapitulation of past events, excites its 
 readers by example to frame their lives to the 
 pursuit of good, or to aversion from evil. When, 
 therefore, at my own expense I had procured his- 
 torians of foreign nations, I proceeded during my 
 domestic leisure, to inquire if anything concerning 
 our own country could be found worthy of handing 
 down to posterity. Hence it arose that, not content 
 with the writings of ancient times, I began myself 
 to compose ; not, indeed to display any learning, 
 
2&UUam of J&almegfcttrg. 79 
 
 which is comparatively nothing, but to bring to 
 light events lying concealed in the confused mass 
 of antiquity. In consequence, rejecting vague 
 opinions, I have studiously sought for chronicles 
 far and near, though I confess I have scarcely 
 profited anything by this industry ; for perusing 
 them all, I still remained poor in information, 
 though I ceased not my researches as long as I 
 could find anything to read." 
 
 His two principal works are named " The Acts 
 of the English Kings" {Gesta Regum Anglorum), 
 and "The Acts of the English Bishops" {Gesta 
 Pontificum Anglorum). Another treatise giving an 
 account of the abbey of Glastonbury from its sup- 
 posed foundation by Joseph of Arimathsea, to the 
 author's own time, contains some particulars of 
 manners and customs. But the Acts of the Kings 
 is, as its name implies, his most important con- 
 tribution to the political history of England. 
 
 This work extends from the coming of the 
 Saxons into England to the twenty-eighth year 
 of King Henry I., or the year of our Lord 1128. 
 In some manuscripts it only comes down to the 
 year 1120, where it would seem the author himself 
 brought the work to a close ; but an examination 
 of the different manuscripts, shows that he issued at 
 least three editions of it, if not more. He moreover 
 afterwards added a continuation under the title of 
 Historia Novella, or Modern History, bringing the 
 narrative of events down to the year 1 142 ; and it 
 would seem he corrected the original work in some 
 
80 lEarlg ©jjronickrg of lEnglant). 
 
 places even after it was finally completed, of which 
 we have an interesting example at the end of the 
 fourth book. Speaking of the career of Robert 
 Curthose, of Normandy, the eldest son of the 
 Conqueror, and how he was finally deprived even 
 of the Duchy of Normandy, and shut up in prison 
 by his brother King Henry ; the author added, as 
 we find in one manuscript, " and whether he ever will 
 be set free is doubtful." But the reading in most of 
 the manuscripts is, " nor was he ever liberated till the 
 day of his death," showing clearly that the text was 
 amended several years after the conclusion of the 
 history, for Robert did not die till 1134. 
 
 The materials of the earlier portion of the work 
 are of course derived from other writers ; and 
 these, for the most part, can be pretty well iden- 
 tified. Bede and the Saxon Chronicle are among 
 the chief; but the writings of Alcuin, of Ethel- 
 werd, of Eadmer, of William of Poitiers and a 
 number of other authors, both native and foreign, 
 were certainly among his authorities. In short, 
 there was no available source of information of 
 which he did not make ample use. 
 
 The third book, leaving for a time the current 
 of- English history, begins with an account of the 
 career of William the Conqueror's father and of 
 himself in Normandy, and then describes the 
 battle of Hastings. The author's comments on 
 that great event are deeply significant of the 
 causes of the victory and the success of Norman 
 rule in England : — 
 
2&tlltam of iftalnKsfturg. 81 
 
 " This was a fatal day to England, a melancholy havoc 
 of our dear country, through its change of masters. For it 
 had long since adopted the manners of the Angles, which had 
 been very various according to the times ; for in the first year 
 of their arrival they were barbarians in their looks and man- 
 ners, warlike in their usages, heathens in their rules ; but, 
 after embracing the faith of Christ, by degrees, and in process 
 of time, from the peace they enjoyed, regarding arms only in 
 a secondary light, they gave their whole attention to religion. 
 I say nothing of the poor, the meanness of whose fortune 
 often restrains them from overstepping the bounds of justice. 
 I omit men of ecclesiastical rank, whom sometimes respect 
 to their profession and sometimes the fear of shame, suffer 
 not to deviate from the truth ; I speak of princes, who from 
 the greatness of their power might have full liberty to indulge 
 in pleasure ; some of whom in their own country, and others 
 at Rome, changing their habit, obtained a heavenly kingdom 
 and a saintly intercourse. Many during their whole lives in 
 outward appearance only embraced the present world, in order 
 that they might exhaust their treasures on the poor, or divide 
 them amongst monasteries. What shall I say of the multi- 
 tudes of bishops, hermits, and abbots ? Does not the whole 
 island blaze with such numerous relics of its natives that you 
 can scarcely pass a village of any consequence but you hear 
 the name of some new saint, besides the numbers of whom all 
 notices have perished through the want of records ? Never- 
 theless, in process of time, the desire after literature and 
 religion had decayed for several years before the arrival of 
 the Normans. The clergy, contented with a very slight degree 
 of learning, could hardly stammer out the words of the sacra- 
 ments ; and a person who understood grammar was an object 
 of wonder and astonishment. The monks mocked the rule of 
 their order by fine vestments and the use of every kind of 
 food. The nobility, given up to luxury and wantonness, went 
 not to church in the morning after the manner of Christians, 
 but merely, in a careless manner, heard matins and masses 
 from a hurrying priest in their chambers, amid the blandish- 
 ENG. G 
 
82 lEarlg ©Jironiclerjs of lEnglanD. 
 
 ments of their wives. The commonalty, left unprotected, 
 became a prey to the most powerful, who amassed fortunes 
 by either seizing on their property, or by selling their persons 
 into foreign countries ; although it be an innate quality of 
 this people to be more inclined to revelling than to the accu- 
 mulation of wealth. There was one custom, repugnant to 
 nature, which they adopted ; namely, to sell their female 
 servants when pregnant by them, and after they had satisfied 
 their lust, either to public prostitution, or foreign slavery. 
 Drinking in parties was a universal practice, in which occu- 
 pation they passed entire nights as well as days. They 
 consumed their whole substance in mean and despicable 
 houses ; unlike the Normans and French, who in noble and 
 splendid mansions lived with frugality. The vices attendant 
 on drunkenness, which enervate the human mind, followed ; 
 hence it arose that engaging William, more with rashness 
 and precipitate fury than military skill, they doomed them- 
 selves and their country to slavery by one, and that an easy, 
 victory. ( For nothing is less effective than rashness ; and 
 what begins with violence quickly ceases, or is repelled.' In 
 fine, the English at that time, wore short garments reaching 
 to the mid-knee ; they had their hair cropped, their beards 
 shaven, their arms laden with golden bracelets, their skin 
 adorned with punctured designs. They were accustomed to 
 eat till they became surfeited, and to drink till they were sick. 
 These latter qualities they imparted to their conquerors ; as 
 to the rest, they adopted their manners. I would not, how- 
 ever, have these bad propensities universally ascribed to the 
 English. I know that many of the clergy at that day, trod 
 the paths of sanctity, by a blameless life : I know that many 
 of the laity, of all ranks and conditions in this nation, were 
 well pleasing to God. Be injustice far from this account ; 
 the accusation does not involve the whole indiscriminately; 
 * But as in peace the mercy of God often cherishes the bad 
 and the good together, so equally does His severity some- 
 times include them both in captivity.' 
 " Moreover, the Normans, that I may speak of them also, 
 
32ltUtam of Jftalmegfiurg. 8$ 
 
 were at that time, and are even now, proudly apparelled; 
 delicate in their food, but not excessive. They are a race 
 inured to war, and can hardly live without it ; fierce in rush- 
 ing against the enemy ; and where strength fails of success, 
 ready to use stratagem, or to corrupt by bribery. As I have 
 related, they live in large edifices with economy ; envy their 
 equals ; wish to excel their superiors ; and plunder their 
 subjects, though they defend them from others ; they are 
 faithful to their bonds, though a slight offence renders them 
 perfidious. They weigh treachery by its chance of success, 
 and change their sentiments with money. They are, how- 
 ever, the kindest of nations, and they esteem strangers 
 worthy of equal honour with themselves. They also inter- 
 marry with their vassals. They revived, by their arrival, the 
 observances of religion, which were everywhere grown lifeless 
 in England. You might see churches rise in every village, 
 and monasteries in the towns and cities, built after a style 
 unknown before ; you might behold the country flourishing 
 with renovated rites ; so that each wealthy man accounted 
 that day lost to him, which he had neglected to signalize by 
 some magnificent action." 
 
 Book III., from which the above extract is taken, 
 is entirely occupied with the history of William the 
 Conqueror and his contemporaries. Book IV., in 
 like manner, is devoted to William Rufus and to 
 the first Crusade ; and nowhere do the vigour and 
 liveliness of the author appear to greater advantage 
 than in describing that great movement. No lan- 
 guage, indeed, could better enable us to realize an 
 age of enthusiasm than the following : — 
 
 " This ardent love not only inspired the continental 
 provinces, but even all who had heard the name of Christ, 
 whether in the most distant islands or savage countries. 
 The Welshman left his hunting, the Scot his fellowship with 
 
8 4 iEarlg ©frroniclerg of lEnglanD. 
 
 vermin, the Dane his drinking party, the Norwegian his raw 
 fish. Lands were deserted of their husbandmen ; houses of 
 their inhabitants ; even whole cities migrated. There was 
 no regard to relationship ; affection to their country was held 
 in little esteem : God alone was placed before their eyes. 
 "Whatever was stored in granaries, or hoarded in chambers, 
 to answer the hopes of the avaricious husbandman, or thecove- 
 tousness of the miser, all, all was deserted ; they hungered 
 and thirsted after Jerusalem alone. Joy attended such as 
 proceeded, while grief oppressed those who remained. But 
 why do I say remained ? You might see the husband depart- 
 ing with his wife, indeed with all his family ; you would smile 
 to see the whole household laden on a carriage, about to 
 proceed on their journey. The road was too narrow for the 
 passengers, the path too confined for the travellers, so thickly 
 were they thronged with endless multitudes. The number 
 surpassed all human imagination, though the itinerants were 
 estimated at six millions. Doubtless, never did so many 
 nations unite in one opinion ; never did so immense a popu- 
 lation subject their unruly passions to one, and almost to no 
 direction. For the strangest wonder to behold was, that 
 such a countless multitude marched gradually through various 
 Christian countries without plundering, though there was none 
 to restrain them. Mutual regard blazed forth in all ; so that 
 if any one found in his possession what he knew did not 
 belong to him, he exposed it everywhere for several days to 
 be owned ; and the desire of the finder was suspended till 
 perchance the wants of the loser might be repaired." 
 
 No one will say after reading passages like these 
 that literary art and descriptive power were un- 
 known among writers of the middle ages. William 
 of Malmesbury was essentially a pictorial writer, 
 and nothing can exceed the skill with which he 
 depicts events and incidents. We are thankful to 
 him not only for graphic accounts of the actions, 
 
MItam of J&ahtwsBurp. 85 
 
 but for personal notices of many of the leaders in 
 the Crusade, which are full of interest. We are 
 told how Godfrey of Boulogne, at the siege of 
 Antioch, " with a Lorrainian sword cut asunder a 
 Turk who had demanded single combat, and one- 
 half of the man lay panting on the ground while 
 the horse, at full speed, carried away the other, 
 so firmly the miscreant sat," adds the historian, 
 with an involuntary admiration of the fighting quali- 
 ties, even of an infidel, though he is firmly per- 
 suaded all along that the very same pertinacity and 
 valour which were glorious beyond measure ' in the 
 service of the Cross were the reverse of admirable 
 in its enemies. Robert of Normandy, son of 
 William the Conqueror, is described to the very 
 life with his short stature, projecting belly, his easy 
 good nature, improvidence, and fitful indignation. 
 We understand most perfectly the man who was 
 always throwing away his advantages, and can 
 almost sympathise with the feeling of the historian, 
 that his misfortunes were a punishment for that 
 ignoble love of ease which led him to reject the 
 kingdom of Jerusalem. He is altogether a remark- 
 able contrast to his brother Henry Beauclerc, whose 
 character is portrayed at even greater length. Born 
 in England after his fathers coming over, he was 
 cherished by all about him more than his elder 
 brothers, to all of whom, it seems to have been 
 thought, he would have been preferred in the 
 succession. The care bestowed on his education 
 bore good fruit. He used to say in his father's 
 
86 lEarlg €f)tonlcfajs of lEnglairt). 
 
 hearing that " an illiterate king is a crowned ass," 
 and when he came to the crown himself his learn- 
 ing, in William of Malmesbury's opinion, assisted 
 him much in the science of governing. This writer 
 extols highly the politic arts that he had learned 
 from philosophy, the energy and decision of his 
 character, the inflexible firmness with which he 
 administered justice. And in those days, it is to 
 be observed, justice was administered by the king 
 personally, sometimes in a very rough and primi- 
 tive fashion, which seems rather amusing. "The 
 measure of his own arm," says the chronicler, 
 " was applied to correct the false ell of the traders, 
 and enjoined for the followers of his court at which- 
 ever of his possessions he might be resident ; and 
 they were instructed what they should accept with- 
 out payment from the country folks, and how much, 
 and at what price they should purchase, the trans- 
 gressors being punished by a heavy fine or loss of 
 life." 
 
 Comparatively little is said in this book about 
 the political history of Henry's reign. There is an 
 interesting account of his first queen Matilda, and 
 of the unfortunate drowning of his son William. 
 There is also mention of the marriage of his 
 daughter Maud to the Emperor Henry V., and an 
 account of that Emperor's dispute with Pope 
 Paschal. But the religious revival of which the 
 foundation of Reading Abbey was one indication 
 appears to have made a deeper impression on the 
 author than the political events of his own day ; 
 
g&Uliam of J«almegburg. 87 
 
 and the work concludes with some notices of the 
 more remarkable churchmen or heads of religious 
 houses who had recently died in the odour of 
 sanctity. 
 
 The Historia Novella of William of Malmesbury, 
 though commonly regarded as a continuation of the 
 Gesta Regum, is really a separate work undertaken 
 at the request of Robert, Earl of Gloucester, natural 
 son of Henry I., for the express purpose of record- 
 ing certain very notable events which at the time 
 had recently taken place in England, as the author 
 says, " through the miraculous power of God." 
 The events thus alluded to were simply those of 
 the contest between King Stephen and the Empress 
 Maud, in which the Earl of Gloucester himself took 
 a very prominent part ; and it might, perhaps, be 
 considered from this that the treatise is somewhat 
 of a partisan character. But it is certainly written 
 in the style of an impartial historian, and has never 
 yet been taxed with unfairness. The author, in- 
 deed, does not confine himself merely to those 
 subjects which concern the civil war in England, 
 but in his introductory chapter gives some account 
 among other things of the double papal election 
 after the death of Honorius II. He also conde- 
 scends to notice matters characteristic of the times 
 which were by no means of such momentous con- 
 sequence ; and the reader will feel grateful for the 
 following anecdote which occurs in his brief sum- 
 mary of the later years of Henry I. : — 
 
83 I;arlg ©jjromclerg of Isnglanti. 
 
 " In his twenty-eighth year the king returned from Nor- 
 mandy ; in his twenty-ninth a circumstance occurred in 
 England which may seem surprising to our long-haired 
 gallants, who, forgetting what they were born, transform 
 themselves into the fashion of females by the length of their 
 locks. A certain English knight, who prided himself on the 
 luxuriancy of his tresses, being stung by conscience on the 
 subject, seemed to feel in a dream as though some person 
 strangled him with his ringlets. Awaking in a fright, he 
 immediately cut off all his superfluous hair. The example 
 spread throughout England ; and, as recent punishment is 
 apt to affect the mind, almost all military men allowed their 
 hair to be cropped in a proper manner, without reluctance. 
 But this decency was not of long continuance ; for scarcely 
 had a year expired ere all who thought themselves courtly 
 relapsed into their former vice ; they vied with women in 
 length of locks, and, wherever they were defective, put on 
 false tresses ; forgetful, or rather ignorant, of the saying of 
 the Apostle, ' If a man nurture his hair, it is a shame to 
 him. 
 
 It seems an extraordinary thing to hear of such 
 effeminate tastes in the turbulent times in which 
 our author wrote ; for it is clear from what he says 
 that it must have been a prevalent fashion even 
 after the death of Henry I., and during the civil 
 war in Stephen's time. 
 
 Of the reign of King Stephen we have two 
 original narratives besides that given in the Historia 
 Novella of Malmesbury. The first is an anonymous 
 fragment entitled the Gesta Stephani, derived, un- 
 fortunately, from one single manuscript in which 
 some passages are obliterated and the end entirely 
 lost. There is no doubt, however, that it is the 
 work of a contemporary who was an eye-witness of 
 
&cft$ of jBfrfixm. 89 
 
 some of the scenes he describes in it. The writer 
 also appears to have been a churchman — some have 
 supposed the king's confessor. It is not unreason- 
 able, at least, as remarked by his editor, Dr. Sewell, 
 to think that he was a Norman ; a friend, and 
 perhaps a connection of the king. Sir Thomas 
 Hardy, however, while agreeing that he was a 
 foreigner, thinks that he lived either in Hereford- 
 shire or Gloucestershire, as he notices those parts 
 of the kingdom more frequently than others ; and 
 if this conjecture be right, he could hardly have 
 been the king's confessor. Although he keeps to 
 the true order of events he never gives a date ; and 
 though his style has been criticised as being rather 
 florid and diffuse there is only one place in which 
 he has been suspected of exaggerating. This is 
 at the very beginning where he describes a state 
 of anarchy and confusion to have arisen on the 
 death of Henry I., in which even the brute creation 
 is described as having shared. The bonds of 
 government were relaxed, the ties even of relation- 
 ship were disregarded, war and riot broke loose 
 throughout the land. Even the wild animals 
 formerly preserved in parks were let loose and were 
 hunted freely by every one. " This, indeed," says 
 the writer, " was a minor calamity not much to be 
 complained of ; and yet it was wonderful how so 
 many myriads of wild animals, which in large 
 herds before plentifully stocked the country, sud- 
 denly disappeared, so that out of this vast number 
 scarcely two could now be found together. They 
 
<p lEatlg Chroniclers! of ISnglanti. 
 
 seemed to be entirely extirpated, insomuch that it 
 is reported a single bird v/as a rare sight, and a 
 stag was nowhere to be seen." 
 
 Unless this extermination of the beasts and birds 
 be an exaggeration, it is hard to say what else there 
 is in the author's picture of the time to which we 
 should be specially on our guard against giving 
 credit. The only reason given for distrust is that 
 Henry I. died on the 1st December, 1135, and that 
 Stephen immediately left Normandy and was 
 crowned on the 22nd of the same month. But 
 surely a vast deal of disorder may take place within 
 the period of three weeks, and it is evident even 
 from the narrative itself that the mere announce- 
 ment of Stephen's coronation throughout the land 
 did not suffice to restore tranquillity. It was one of 
 the things to which he pledged himself at his coro- 
 nation that he would do his utmost to pacify the 
 kingdom, and according to our author he thereupon 
 took up arms against the bands of robbers "who 
 ravaged that part of the kingdom " (that is to say 
 the southern part), and by successfully encounter- 
 ing them "he made his name great at the very 
 beginning of his reign." 
 
 His success in obtaining the crown was greatly 
 owing to his brother Henry of Blois, bishop of 
 Winchester and papal legate, who received him 
 before his coronation in his own cathedral city, 
 spoken of by our author as the second city of the 
 kingdom, and helped to put him in possession of 
 the late king's hoarded wealth. But the archbishop 
 
&ctg of jfctq>i)$tt. 91 
 
 of Canterbury refused to perform the rite of corona- 
 tion until the new king's title was sufficiently 
 cleared of objections : — 
 
 " For the king, he argued, is chosen for the purpose of 
 governing all, and that when elected he may enforce the 
 rights of his government on all ; so then it is plain that all 
 should make common agreement in confirming his election, 
 and that it should be determined by common consent whether 
 it shall be ratified or annulled. He added that king Henry 
 in his lifetime had bound all the principal men of the realm 
 by a most solemn oath not to acknowledge the title of any one 
 after his own death but his daughter, who was married to the 
 Count of Anjou, or, if he himself survived her, his daughter's 
 heir. Therefore there was great presumption in endeavouring 
 to set aside this engagement, the more especially as not only 
 was king Henry's daughter living, but she was favoured in 
 having heirs of her body. To this the king's partisans replied 
 with confidence, ' We do not deny that king Henry's policy 
 on the marriage of his daughter was wise, as it led to a firm 
 and stable peace between the people of Normandy and Anjou, 
 between whom there were frequent disturbances. With 
 respect to the succession, that imperious king, whom no one 
 could resist, with a voice of thunder compelled, rather than 
 persuaded, the great men of the kingdom to take the oath of 
 fealty ; for though he foresaw that an involuntary oath would 
 not be considered binding, still he wished, like Ezekiel, to 
 have peace in his days, and by the marriage of one woman 
 create a bond of union between countless multitudes. We 
 willingly admit that this thing was agreeable to him while he 
 lived, but we say that he would not have been satisfied that 
 it should be unalterable after his death ; for those who stood 
 round him when he was at the last extremity, and listened to 
 his true confession, heard him plainly express his repentance 
 for the oath which he had enforced on his barons. Since, 
 therefore, it is evident that an oath extracted by violence 
 from any man cannot subject him to the charge of perjury, 
 
93 lEarlg ©ijromclerg of lEnglant). 
 
 it is both allowable and acceptable that we should freely 
 acknowledge for king him whom the city of London, the 
 metropolis of the kingdom, received without opposition, and 
 who founds his claims on his lawful right, through his mother, 
 the late king's sister. We are also firmly convinced that by 
 acknowledging him and supporting him with all our power, 
 we shall confer the greatest benefit on the kingdom, which, 
 now torn, distracted, and trodden down, will in the very crisis 
 of its fate be restored to order, by the efforts of a man of 
 firmness and valour, who being exalted by the power of his 
 adherents and the wisdom of his brothers, whatever was 
 wanting in himself would be fully supplied by their aid.'" 
 
 This minute report of a debate in council suggests 
 strongly either that the writer was actually present, 
 or that he had very special means of information as 
 to what took place. It is true, historians of all ages 
 introduce occasionally into their works made-up 
 harangues and speeches ; but in this case we have a 
 set of arguments and counter-arguments which we 
 have no reason to doubt were actually advanced 
 on the one side and on the other, leading to an 
 ultimate decision in favour of the coronation of 
 Stephen. In substance, moreover, the proceedings 
 of this council are confirmed by other authorities ; 
 and ' the graphic touch about the impious king 
 Henry I. and his voice of thunder has a value of its 
 own not to be overlooked. We see, under any cir- 
 cumstances, how slender were the guarantees by 
 which the succession, even of the lineal heir, could 
 be secured in those days, and yet, how important it 
 was felt to be that the election of the new sovereign 
 should not be ratified by the religious rite of con-.. 
 
ftcte of j&tepljat. 93 
 
 secration without a full investigation of his preten- 
 sions and an assurance that no past pledges should 
 be violated. 
 
 The archbishop anointed and consecrated 
 Stephen, and almost all the great men of England 
 then did homage to him, notwithstanding the oath 
 they had taken to Maud in the lifetime of her 
 father. Even her half-brother Robert, Earl of 
 Gloucester, though he afterwards supported her 
 cause so warmly, took the oath and was received 
 into favour, and his submission was followed by 
 that of almost all the rest of England. The new 
 king, it would seem, began well. " In tranquillising 
 the kingdom and consolidating its peace, he was 
 courteous and obliging to all men ; he restored the 
 exiles to their estates ; in conferring ecclesiastical 
 dignities he was free from the sin of simony ; and 
 justice was administered without bribe or reward. 
 He treated with respect churchmen of all ages and 
 ranks ; and so kind and gentle was his demeanour 
 that, forgetful of his royal dignity, on many occa- 
 sions he gave way, in others he put himself on an 
 equality with, and sometimes even seemed to be 
 inferior to, his subjects." . But the pacification of 
 England proved to be no very easy matter. First, 
 the Welsh were troublesome, and he sent out an 
 ineffectual expedition against them. Then Baldwin 
 de Rivers rose at Exeter ; but the king laid siege to 
 the city, and after reducing it to the last extremities 
 at length allowed the emaciated garrison, dying of 
 thirst, to march out with arms and property and 
 
94 lEatlg ©jjromders of ISnglanti. 
 
 take service with whatever other lord they pleased. 
 Baldwin himself had meanwhile withdrawn into the 
 Isle of Wight, which was a part of his territories, 
 and fortified himself there in a castle, probably 
 Carisbrooke, which he had stocked with an abundant 
 supply of provisions. " But by the interposition of 
 Providence," says our author, " the springs had been 
 dried up by a sudden drought, and Baldwin and his 
 adherents, embarking in a fresh struggle with the 
 king, were utterly ruined." He was driven into 
 . exile, and took refuge with Henry, count of Anjou, 
 the son of the empress Maud. 
 
 The narrative here begins to speak of the king's 
 measures against Normandy, but owing to the 
 mutilation of the manuscript the account of his 
 recovery of that duchy is lost. The scene accord- 
 ingly shifts to the siege of Bedford, which is held 
 by Miles de Beauchamp against the king in 1 138, 
 but is reduced by famine. Then comes an account 
 of the irruption of the Scots, but another mutilation 
 deprives us of this author's account of the battle of 
 the Standard. The story is resumed with the 
 rebellion at Bristol, under Earl Robert of Gloucester, 
 and goes on to show how the king garrisoned Bath, 
 and after abandoning the intention of besieging 
 Bristol itself, reduced some other fortresses ; and 
 once more the manuscript breaks off abruptly. It 
 is worth noticing, however, at this part of the nar- 
 rative, that our author gives brief descriptions both 
 of Bristol and Bath, which are of considerable 
 interest ; and what he says of the former city will 
 
^CctsS of j&tepfjen. 95 
 
 enable us to realise the strength of Earl Robert's 
 position : — 
 
 " Bristol is the most opulent city of all those parts, as its 
 shipping brings merchandise to it from the neighbouring 
 coasts and from foreign parts. It is situated in the most 
 fertile part of England, and its position is stronger than that 
 of any other town. Like what we read of Brundusium, it 
 stands where a tongue of land, extending between two rivers 
 which wash it on both sides, forms a flat at the confluence 
 of the rivers, on which the city is built. The tide flows fresh 
 and strong from the sea every day and night, and draws back 
 the waters of the river on both sides of the city, forming a 
 basin in which a thousand ships can conveniently and safely 
 ride, and so encompassing the circuit of the town that it may 
 be said to float on the waters, and appears in every quarter 
 to touch the river banks. On one side, where it lies more 
 open to attack, the castle stands on a raised mound, fortified 
 with a wall, and outworks and towers, and furnished with 
 engines of various kinds to defend it against assaults." 
 
 Our author next recounts the story of the breach 
 between the king and the three bishops who had 
 been the leading ministers of Henry I., and how the 
 king laid hands on them and forced them to surren- 
 der their castles. A period of anarchy and violence 
 ensues, in the midst of which the Empress Maud, 
 or, as this writer invariably calls her, the Countess 
 of Anjou, lands with her brother Robert, Earl of 
 Gloucester, at Arundel. Various rebellious barons 
 are encouraged by the event ; and though the king 
 meets the danger with great intrepidity, his success 
 is only partial. While the king defeats the rebels 
 in some quarters, rebel forces besiege the king's 
 troops elsewhere, and capture garrisons. The 
 
9 5 lEarlg ©ftroniclerg of lEnglanD. 
 
 bishop of Ely takes arms against the king, and 
 attempts to hold against him the whole Isle of 
 Ely, at that time considered an impregnable for- 
 tress, as being accessible only by a narrow road 
 through the water, defended by a strong castle. 
 But one of the monks, as it was believed, played 
 traitor to the bishop, and suggested to the king 
 another mode by which the island might be entered. 
 A bridge of boats was formed where the current 
 seemed most slack ; and after the king's men had 
 crossed the main stream by this bridge, they forded 
 the adjoining marshes under the monk's guidance. 
 The traitor received his reward. " We saw him 
 afterwards," says our author, " thanks, not to St. 
 Peter's key but to Simon's, admitted into the 
 church and made abbot of Ramsey ; and we know 
 that afterwards he was subject to much trouble 
 and affliction, the Almighty justly punishing secret 
 offences on account of his unlawful intrusion into 
 the church." 
 
 The king is described as continually moving 
 about to meet his enemies, drawn at one time into 
 Cornwall, at another back into Lincoln. Nor do 
 his enemies constitute anything like a united 
 party. Individual nobles take castles for their own 
 benefit, and refuse to give them up to others, either 
 for king or empress. At Lincoln the king is taken 
 prisoner by Earl Robert, who carries him off to 
 Bristol. Maud is proclaimed queen in London, 
 but on her making exorbitant demands on the 
 citizens a plot is formed against her, and she makes 
 
&ctg of jjtepfjen. 97 
 
 a precipitate flight. Stephen's queen causes a 
 reaction in his favour, and even gains over his wary 
 and cautious brother, the bishop of Winchester ; 
 but not trusting him entirely she seizes the city of 
 Winchester herself, which is then besieged by 
 the Earl of Gloucester, and othe rs, while the queen 
 and the bishop bring men from all parts to harass 
 the besiegers. " All England," says the writer, " was 
 there in arms with a great conflux of foreigners." 
 The struggle is a critical one, and the besiegers 
 find it necessary to raise a fort at Wherwell, six 
 miles off, a place where there is a nunnery. But 
 while doing so they are attacked by the king's 
 party, and driven into the church, which is deserted 
 and set on fire. The king's enemies are forced to 
 surrender, unconditionally, while the flames burst 
 forth from the roof of the monastery, and the 
 nuns, compelled to turn out for their lives, fill the 
 air with shrieks and lamentations. The siege of 
 Winchester is abandoned, the besiegers driven away 
 in shameful rout, the earl of Gloucester taken 
 prisoner, and the king once more set at liberty. 
 
 Such is a brief outline of the contents of the 
 first book of this very spirited narrative. In the 
 second the story is carried down to the arrival of 
 Henry, afterwards Heniy II., in England ; so that, 
 but for the mutilation of the manuscript, this work 
 would have contained a complete account of nearly 
 the whole, or perhaps actually the whole reign of 
 Stephen. The most interesting incident in the 
 second part is the escape of Maud, when besieged 
 
 ENG. il 
 
93 lEadg ©fjtomcUcg of lEnglanfc. 
 
 at Oxford by the king, over the frozen Thames, 
 while the country was white with snow. 
 
 "What was very remarkable, and indeed truly miraculous, 
 she crossed dryshod, and without wetting her garments, the 
 very waters into which the king and his troops had plunged 
 up to their neck on their advance to attack the city ; she 
 passed too through the royal posts, while the silence of night 
 was broken all around by the clang of trumpets, and the 
 cries of the guard, without losing a single man of her escort, 
 and observed only by one man of the king's troops who had 
 been wrought with to favour her escape." 
 
 For historical purposes, as Dr. Sewell very justly 
 points out, the Historia Novella of William of 
 Malmesbury should be read along with the Gesta 
 Stephani, page by page. " Each," says Dr. Sewell, 
 " reflects light on the other, and, what is still more 
 extraordinary under such circumstances, each con- 
 firms the other." The partisan of Stephen and the 
 partisan of the Earl of Gloucester are at one on 
 almost every point as to matters of fact. And to 
 these two must be further added the account given 
 of Stephen's reign by Henry of Huntingdon, a writer 
 whose sympathies, like those of Malmesbury, are 
 on the side of that king's enemies. Still there is 
 on the whole a wonderful agreement as to facts ; 
 and even the moral judgments pronounced by 
 these different writers do not differ so greatly as 
 we should be naturally led to expect. 
 
 Henry of Huntingdon belongs properly to a 
 different class of writers from those of whom we 
 have been speaking ; for it would seem that he was 
 
P?*nrg of f^tmtmgfcon. 99 
 
 not a monk at all, and if we were to adhere strictly 
 to the subject of this chapter, he ought not to be 
 noticed here. But of course we are treating 
 generally of the historical literature of a period 
 when there were few but monkish authors, and it 
 is by no means certain that we have not already 
 met with an exception in the author of the Gesta 
 Stephani. In Huntingdon, however, the style itself 
 almost seems to betray a man of a different class — 
 a lover of liberty, not tied to strict rules of life, 
 and not accustomed, perhaps, to rigid accuracy of 
 thought, or of investigation. His easy, interesting, 
 and fluent narrative, breaking out occasionally into 
 poetry, differs certainly not a little in character, 
 even from the lively pages of William of Malmes- 
 bury. Yet it is equally characteristic of the new 
 era and of the revival of letters which began under 
 Henry Beauclerc. For with all his warmth of 
 colouring he is a true historian, who seems to have 
 weighed authorities in his own mind, moralises 
 upon events, and draws his own conclusions. Im- 
 pressed with a sense, that " there is nothing in this 
 world more excellent than accurately to investigate 
 and trace out the course of worldly affairs," he 
 remarks in his dedication to Alexander, bishop of 
 Lincoln — 
 
 " History brings the past to view as if it were piesent, and 
 enables us to judge of the future by picturing to ourselves the 
 past. Besides, the knowledge of former events has this 
 further preeminence, that it forms a main distinction between 
 brutes and rational creatures. For brutes, whether they be 
 men or beasts, neither know nor wish to know, whence they 
 
 L.ofC. 
 
lEarlg ©ftronickrg of lEnglant). 
 
 come, nor their own origin, nor the annals and revolutions 
 of the country they inhabit. Of the two, I consider men in 
 this brutal state to be the worst, because what is natural in 
 the case of beasts, is the lot of men from their want of sense ; 
 and what beasts could not acquire if they would, such men 
 will not though they could." 
 
 In such fashion does this author give utterance 
 to the thoughts that were in him. Even when he 
 descends from the abstract to the particular, the 
 freedom with which he comments upon men and 
 things is no less remarkable. He does not spare 
 criticism even of friends and patrons. In regard 
 to facts, however, he is generally careful, and 
 though with a warm and imaginative nature he has 
 perhaps laid himself open to the charge of exaggera- 
 tion here and there, it is impossible to question his 
 general fidelity. Of his judgment, moreover, as an 
 historian, we are led to think highly from his dis- 
 criminating use of Bede and the Anglo-Saxon 
 Chronicle, the authorities on which he mainly de- 
 pended for the earlier portion of his history. On 
 the whole, he gives none but the really important 
 facts, omitting nearly all the miraculous legends and 
 minor incidents, with which the pages of the former 
 historian abound. At the same time it must be 
 acknowledged that he amplifies very considerably 
 on his predecessors, and if he is not following in 
 some places the guidance of tradition or of 
 authorities not now extant he must certainly be 
 credited with some use of the inventive faculty. 
 His value, however, as an historian, is of course 
 
I^enrg of ^untmg&on. 101 
 
 chiefly in relation to his own period. But it is time 
 that we should say something of the man himself, 
 and his surroundings. 
 
 Henry of Huntingdon was the son of Nicholas, 
 a distinguished ecclesiastic and probably a dignitary 
 of the church at Lincoln. In England the celibacy 
 of the clergy was not at that time very rigidly 
 insisted on, and Henry himself avows his origin 
 without any show of sensitiveness on the subject. 
 The Roman custom, however, was then extending 
 itself, and in a synod held at London in 1 102 the 
 clergy were for the first time forbidden to live with 
 wives. Henry of Huntingdon himself remarks on 
 the novelty of the prohibition, and observes that 
 " some saw danger in a strictness which, requiring 
 a continence above their strength, might lead them 
 to disgrace their Christian profession." The ordi- 
 nance was enacted just eight years before his 
 father's death, when he himself was probably past 
 boyhood. There is some reason for supposing that 
 his father was his predecessor in the archdeaconry 
 of Huntingdon, which was conferred upon him by 
 Bishop Bloet, on the death of an archdeacon 
 Nicholas ; about which time, as the author tells us, 
 Cambridgeshire was separated from the see of 
 Lincoln, and attached to the new bishopric of Ely. 
 Now the see of Ely was erected in 1 109, and Henry 
 of Huntingdon tells us that his father died in 11 10, 
 so that the expression " about the time " would be 
 correct if he succeeded his father Nicholas. 
 
 As a child, he was placed for his education in 
 
'Eatlg ©ijrontcktg of lEngtanD. 
 
 the family of Robert Bloet, Bishop of Lincoln, of 
 whose magnificent household he gives a lively 
 picture in his "Letter to Walter," an old friend of 
 his youth, written when both he and Walter were 
 advanced in years. " I saw," he writes, " his retinue 
 of gallant knights and noble youths, his horses of 
 price, his vessels of gold or of silver gilt, the 
 splendid array of his plate, the gorgeousness of his 
 servitors, the fine linen and purple robes, and I 
 thought within myself that nothing could be more 
 blissful. When, moreover, all the world, even those 
 who had learnt in the schools the emptiness of such 
 things, were obsequious to him, and he was looked 
 up to as the father and lord of all, it was no wonder 
 that he valued highly his worldly advantages. If 
 at that time any one had told me that this splendour 
 which we all admired ought to be held in contempt, 
 with what face, in what temper, should I have heard 
 it ? I should have thought him more insensate 
 than Orestes, more querulous than Thersites. It 
 appeared to me that nothing could exceed happiness 
 so exalted. But when I became a man, and heard 
 the scurrilous language which was addressed to 
 him, I felt that I should have fainted if it had been 
 used to me, who had nothing, in such a presence. 
 Then I began to value less what I had before so 
 highly esteemed." 
 
 Henry appears to have remained in the bishop's 
 household till he reached manhood, and, it is said, 
 received from him, as his first preferment, a canonry 
 at Lincoln. He speaks, in one place, of a certain 
 
?^cnrg of ?^untingDon. 103 
 
 Albinus of Anjou as his " master," who, we may- 
 presume, directed his studies in the bishop's house- 
 hold. It is, probably, the same person whom he 
 mentions again as " Aldwine, my own master, who 
 was Abbot of Ramsey." During those years he 
 composed several books of epigrams, satires, sacred 
 hymns, and love poems, which he afterwards pub- 
 lished with his more important works. His own 
 talents, aided, perhaps, by the regard felt for his 
 father's memory, marked him out for early promo- 
 tion ; for he could not have been much over thirty 
 years old when he received the archdeaconry. 
 
 He continued in equal favour with Alexander de 
 Blois, the successor of Bishop Bloet in the see of 
 Lincoln, at whose request he undertook his History 
 of the English, and to whom he dedicated the work. 
 The extraordinary liberality of this prelate, when he 
 twice visited Rome, gained for him there the title 
 of " the Magnificent." Henry is said to have visited 
 Rome in his company, and Mr. Forester, to whose 
 biographical preface to Henry of Huntingdon we 
 are indebted for the substance of these remarks, 
 thinks he probably did so on both the occasions 
 when Bishop Alexander went thither. These were 
 in the years 1125 and 1 144. On the other hand, 
 Sir Thomas Hardy finds that he accompanied Arch- 
 bishop Theobald, of Canterbury, to Rome, in 11 39, 
 and on his way thither visited Bee, in Normandy, 
 where he first saw in the monastery the British 
 History of Geoffrey of Monmouth, of which work 
 he made an abridgment, and dedicated it to his 
 
io4 lEarlg ©Dromclerg of lEnglanfc. 
 
 friend Warin. We shall have something to say of 
 this famous work hereafter. 
 
 Mr. Forester considers that Henry of Hunting- 
 don's History of the English was probably com- 
 menced after Bishop Alexander's return from his 
 first journey. The first edition only came down to 
 the death of Henry I., before which time the book 
 really contains very little original matter. Thirteen 
 years later he continued it to the thirteenth year 
 of Stephen's reign ; and after the death of Stephen 
 he added another continuation to the accession of 
 Henry II. By that time he was probably about 
 seventy years old, and it may be presumed that he 
 did not live much longer ; for one manuscript of 
 the history ends, just after the. death of Stephen, 
 with the words, " The accession of a new king de- 
 mands a new book ; " but no further continuation, 
 relating to the reign of Henry II., is known to 
 exist. 
 
 Among the passages in Huntingdon's account of 
 Stephen's reign, which are specially valuable, may 
 be noticed his description of the battle of the 
 Standard, the details of which are not given so fully 
 by any other strictly contemporary writer. But 
 perhaps some of the more minute touches will give 
 a better notion of the interest of this veiy impartial 
 critic's remarks on the events of his own time. 
 The age, apparently, was beginning to despise a 
 number of superstitions, and our author rather 
 "ommends "the great resolution of King Stephen," 
 who wore his crown at Lincoln during- the season 
 
I^cnrg of l^unttngticn. 
 
 of Christmas. Although William the Conqueror 
 had done so at Gloucester, there seems to have been 
 some kind of prejudice against a king appearing 
 crowned at that particular time of year; but Stephen 
 was determined to show that he despised the feel- 
 ing, whatever it may have been, that to do so was 
 either irreverent or unlucky. At the same time, 
 our author relates, as facts, certain omens which 
 occurred to King Stephen just before the battle of 
 Lincoln ; but as they appear to have been reported 
 to him by his friend, Bishop Alexander, who was 
 present on the occasion, I think there is no good 
 reason to doubt that they did take place as related. 
 It was the morning of Candlemas Day, and Stephen 
 heard mass with great devotion, but sorely troubled 
 in mind, and anxious about the issue of the impend- 
 ing conflict. As he offered the usual mass taper to 
 the bishop, "it broke, betokening the rupture of 
 the kings. The pix also, which contained Christ's 
 body, snapped its fastening, and fell on the altar 
 while the bishop was celebrating — a sign of the 
 king's fall from power." The former incident is 
 confirmed by the independent authority of the 
 writer of the Gesta Stephani, and both occurrences 
 are natural enough results of the great anxiety and 
 trepidation which must have possessed both king 
 and bishop. 
 
 As contemporary historians, the writers of whom 
 we have just been speaking are the most interesting 
 of the age to which they belonged. In them we 
 meet with close and minute descriptions of what 
 
io6 lEarlg ©jjronickrg of lEnglanfc. 
 
 was taking place at the very time they wrote. A 
 much more voluminous historian was Ordericus 
 Vitalis, who wrote an elaborate work on the history 
 of Normandy and England, preceded by a general 
 history of Christendom, from the time of our Lord 
 to his own day. The order of this work, however, 
 is rather confused, the thirteen books, of which it 
 is composed, having been written at different times, 
 and not even consecutively, as they now stand. 
 Moreover, though an Englishman born, and an 
 ardent lover of his native land, he was sent abroad 
 in boyhood by his father, and spent the greater 
 part of his life in the Abbey of Ouche, in Normandy, 
 where he received his education. He must, how- 
 ever, have devoted a large part of his life to his- 
 torical investigation, and he paid several visits to 
 England for the purpose of collecting historical 
 materials. Still, his account of English affairs is, 
 on the whole, subordinate to the history of Nor- 
 mandy, and especially to ecclesiastical history, 
 which was his main object. Nevertheless, his work 
 is remarkably full of interest, as regards both 
 countries, and space alone forbids us to do it justice. 
 We must, therefore, content ourselves with saying 
 that the narrative is throughout wonderfully clear 
 and vivid, and is, perhaps, not the less interesting 
 for being a little discursive in style. The portraits 
 drawn of William the Conqueror, and of his sons, 
 are also wonderfully lifelike. Particularly striking 
 is what he says of that extraordinary character, 
 Robert Curthose, Duke of Normandy — a very 
 
©rOracug IXttalfe. 107 
 
 Esau for improvidence, who first sold a large part 
 of his birthright to his younger brother, and then 
 lost the remainder by utter carelessness and shame- 
 ful maladministration. It seems this strange pro- 
 digal, even when nominally reigning over Normandy, 
 so wasted his means that he absolutely sometimes 
 lay in bed till midday for want of clothes, of which 
 he was robbed by the profligate associates he 
 gathered round him. 
 
 It is, doubtless, a great defect in this work that 
 so little attention is paid by the author to chrono- 
 logy, or, indeed, to order, or systematic arrange- 
 ment of any kind. The work seems to have grown 
 upon the author while he was writing, and with 
 new information he reverted to an old subject with- 
 out caring to digest what he had already written 
 into a better order. But if such a mode of treat- 
 ment destroys to a great extent the claim of 
 Ordericus to be considered a systematic historian, 
 he is, perhaps, even the more attractive from the 
 very fact that he has not bestowed too much thought 
 on the art with which he tells his story. A chapter 
 is even cut short in consequence of the physical 
 discomfort under which the author laboured when 
 he was writing it, and the further treatment of the 
 subject is postponed to another day. Thus, after 
 a brief account of the disputes between Robert of 
 Normandy and his brothers, William Rufus and 
 Henry, he writes as follows : — 
 
 " The calamities which threaten the sons of earth are end- 
 less, and if they were all carefully committed to writing would 
 
ioS ^Eatlg ©JnfonicIerjJ of lEnglant. 
 
 fill large volumes. It is now winter, and I am suffering from 
 the severity of the cold, and propose to allow myself some 
 respite for other occupations, and, fatigued with my work, 
 shall here bring the present book to a close. When the re- 
 turning spring brings with it serener skies I will resume in 
 the sequel my narrative of matters which I have hitherto 
 treated cursorily, or which still remain to be told, and, by 
 God's help, employ my faithful pen in elucidating the causes 
 of peace and war among my countrymen." 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 NEW MONASTIC ORDERS — THE CRUSADES. 
 
 Religious revival in Europe — New orders of monks practising aus- 
 terity — The Cluniacs — Carthusians — Cistercians — St. Bernard — 
 His love of nature — Richard of Devizes — Massacre of the 
 Jews at Richard I.'s coronation — Alleged crucifixion of a boy by 
 the Jews of Winchester — Crusade of Richard I., and state of the 
 kingdom in his absence — Expulsion of the monks of Coventry 
 by Bishop Hugh de Nonant — Joceline of Brakelond's account 
 of the monastery of St. Edmundsbury under Abbot Sampson — 
 Description of the abbot — Disputes between the monastery and 
 the burgesses — Privileges claimed against the archbishop — 
 Abbot Sampson's journey to Rome — He holds his own against 
 the king — Customs and privileges of the monastery — Dispute 
 with the monks of Ely. 
 
 If English monasticism, as we have seen, derived 
 from the first a very great impulse from the 
 Norman Conquest, it was not long before new in- 
 fluences carried over from the continent came to 
 increase and continue the movement. The same 
 religious zeal which in one form aroused all Europe 
 and called the martial spirits of the age to rescue 
 Jerusalem from the hands of Pagans spoke less 
 obtrusively to many a quiet soul urging him to a 
 not less arduous warfare, whose aim was to subdue 
 
lEarlg ©ijronklerg of lEnglantJ. 
 
 the flesh by fasting and prayer in the company of 
 brethren endowed with a kindred zeal. 
 
 The monasteries of England in early times do 
 not appear to have been placed under any common 
 rule or order. It is probable that their discipline 
 was most effective in the north, where monasticism, 
 planted originally by Irish and Scottish mission- 
 aries, had been almost the only means of dissemin- 
 ating Christianity. In the south there was a strong 
 tendency to convert monastic settlements into 
 colleges of secular clergy. St. Dunstan introduced 
 the rule of St. Benedict, with modifications adapted 
 to the English climate and mode of life ; but his 
 work was very nearly overthrown even during his 
 own lifetime. The Benedictine rule, however, was 
 finally established, and the Normans at their 
 coming found it universally acknowledged. A new 
 rule, however, does not of itself beget the zeal to 
 promote its own observance ; and discipline had 
 greatly relaxed before the conquest, when Lanfranc 
 found it necessary to institute another reformation. 
 
 But now there rose up on the continent of 
 Europe new forms of religious life, which, after a 
 time found their way into England also. New 
 orders, all framed in the same spirit, invited men 
 to a life of labour and austerity, more truly in 
 accordance, as it was supposed, with the original 
 design of St. Benedict ; and monasteries began to 
 spring up, bearing such names as Cluniac, Cister- 
 cian, Carthusian, and the like, indicative of the 
 different forms of this religious revival. 
 
Jicfo Jftonagtic (QttotH, 
 
 It was far from true, however, that the sentiment 
 which gave birth to these new institutions was that 
 of the founder of the Benedictine rule. St. Bene- 
 dict intended his followers to labour hard, but not 
 to subject their bodies to an unnatural strain. He 
 allowed his monks a plentiful diet, restricted only 
 in quality and in the amount of animal food, with 
 a large discretion to the head of every monastery 
 to allow special indulgences even in that. He 
 prescribed no distinctive clothing, but left the vest- 
 ments to be regulated by the abbot according to 
 the climate and the custom of the country. Not 
 so the new orders which now began to be promul- 
 gated. Scanty meals, long hours of labour, and a 
 strict rule of dress were essential features of their 
 institution. 
 
 Of all these movements France (or at least the 
 region that we call France nowadays) was the 
 common parent. A warm but not relaxing climate 
 enabled zealous reformers to institute austerities 
 till then unknown and not easily to be maintained 
 in other regions. And France was assuredly in 
 this age the religious centre of Christendom. In it 
 was held the great council that first summoned 
 Europe to arms against the infidels, and no less 
 than four of the French kings were engaged per- 
 sonally in the Crusades. Whatever movement 
 stirred the thoughts of men in matters of religion, 
 whether it tended to heresy as in the case of the 
 Albigenses, or to new forms of observance in con- 
 nection with the Church Catholic, was sure at this 
 time to take its rise in France. 
 
3Earlg ©Ijromckrg of Hsnglant). 
 
 The oldest of these orders was the Cluniac, 
 which began in Burgundy in the beginning of the 
 tenth century, but was not introduced into England 
 till eleven years after the Conquest. It arose simply 
 from the efforts of successive Abbots of Clugny to 
 correct what was thought remiss in the keeping 
 of St. Benedict's rule. But as regards England 
 this order is of comparatively little importance. 
 The number of priories and cells in connection with 
 it was ultimately twenty-seven ; but they were all 
 subject to foreign houses, they had more French 
 than English inmates, their priors were elected by 
 foreigners, and almost every point in their govern- 
 ment was submitted to the decision of the foreign 
 abbots, who likewise were their visitors. 
 
 The Carthusians, though they had even fewer 
 houses in England, were of somewhat greater conse- 
 quence. Instituted about the year 1080, they were 
 first introduced into this country exactly a cen- 
 tury later. St. Bruno, their founder, had chosen an 
 abode for them at the Grande Chartreuse, in Dau- 
 phine, an almost inaccessible spot, high up among 
 the mountains, surrounded by cataracts, and fearful 
 precipices, now covered with thick forests. In this 
 truly awful seclusion their severely self-denying 
 rule forbade them even to eat flesh at all, and 
 compelled them to fast once a week on bread, 
 water, and salt, for a whole day. They wore a hair 
 shirt next the skin, and were only once a week 
 indulged in a walk round the grounds of the mon- 
 astery ; for beyond the precincts of his own house 
 
i&efo #tonagttc ©rberg. 113 
 
 no monk of this order was ever permitted to go, 
 except only the prior or proctor of the monastery, 
 and even these only on the necessary affairs of the 
 house itself. 
 
 The monks of this order wore a white habit 
 covered by a black cloak. Only nine Carthusian 
 houses were ever erected in England, the most 
 famous of which — the well-known Charterhouse of 
 London — was not founded till the end of Edward 
 the Third's reign. The English name Charterhouse 
 was a corruption of the French Chartreuse, and 
 was applied to all the monasteries of this order. 
 
 A more important, and far more numerous order 
 was that of the Cistercians, or White Monks, so 
 called from the white cassocks which they habitu- 
 ally wore, in marked opposition to the black habits 
 of the older orders. The parent house of this 
 order was at Cistertium or Citeaux in Burgundy, 
 founded in 1098, by one Robert, formerly abbot of 
 Moleme. But the order attained its fullest develop- 
 ment under St. Bernard, abbot of Clairvaux. This 
 wonderful enthusiast, when only twenty-two years 
 old, had knocked for admittance at the door of 
 Citeaux monastery, along with some thirty com- 
 panions, whom the power of his preaching had 
 induced to seek a religious life. The attractions 
 of Citeaux at that time, were, that the monks ate 
 but one meal a day, and that only twelve hours 
 after rising from their hard beds ; that they worked 
 hard in the fields, yet never tasted animal food, 
 not even fish, grease, or eggs ; and that milk was 
 ENG. I 
 
ii4 lEarlg ©fjrontclcrg of lEnglanD. 
 
 allowed them only as an occasional luxury. In 
 this hard warfare with the flesh they had at first 
 been cheered by the favour of the great. Two dukes 
 of Burgundy had successively patronized them, 
 and attended their services on great festivals. But 
 the abbot who now reigned — an Englishman, by 
 name Stephen Harding — considering the visits 
 of great men with their retinues as a discourage- 
 ment to devotion, had made it known that he 
 declined to receive them in future ; so the monks 
 were left to practice their austerities unregarded by 
 the world, except so far as a similar spirit could 
 prompt men like St. Bernard and his friends to 
 seek them out. 
 
 And truly, but for this accession of new zeal the 
 little community stood in danger of gradually 
 perishing off the face of the earth ; for the abbot 
 had taken what, humanly speaking, might be con- 
 sidered the best means to repel new-comers. St. 
 Bernard, however, was a fountain of enthusiasm in 
 himself. So earnestly had he preached, even 
 before coming to Citeaux, the advantages of a 
 monastic life, that wives and mothers had much 
 ado to prevent their families being broken up by 
 the influence of the young man's eloquence. And 
 now, having taken up his abode within that mon- 
 astery with thirty other novices, the fame of the 
 place spread so rapidly, and so many applicants 
 for admission followed his example, that Citeaux 
 could not contain them all. Two detachments had 
 to be sent off successively under the guidance of 
 
4fl«&> Jftomxsitic ©rUcrs. 
 
 older monks to found new monasteries elsewhere ; 
 and only two years after St. Bernard's arrival the 
 formation of a third colony had become absolutely 
 necessary. Abbot Stephen found no one so fit 
 to take the rule of this new community as this 
 young man of twenty-four ; and Bernard was sent 
 with twelve associates to found another monastery 
 in the valley of Clairvaux, not far from Chaumont. 
 There in the midst of dense and lonely woods the 
 little fellowship built with their own hands a rude 
 fabric, preserved for centuries after by the venera- 
 tion of St. Bernard's followers, in the state in which 
 he left it. It consisted of a chapel, dormitory, and 
 refectory, all under a single roof, the dormitory 
 being, in fact, a loft, reached by a ladder, over the 
 refectory. There was no floor but the bare earth ; 
 the windows were scarcely broader than a man's 
 hand ; the abbot's cell, at the top of the attic, was 
 a chamber in which no one could even sit upright. 
 
 To St. Bernard self-denial was a luxury ; and it 
 was certainly owing to the example of his energy 
 and fervour that the order soon attained its world- 
 wide popularity. In 1 129 the first Cistercian house 
 in this country was established at Waverley, in 
 Surrey. Two years later Tintern was founded on 
 the Wye, in Monmouthshire ; and in a very few 
 years after, Rievalle, Furness, Kirkstall, Fountains, 
 and a large number of others. The number of 
 houses of this order in England ultimately reached 
 one hundred and one. Their remains exist at this 
 day, the most interesting and the most beautiful 
 
13 6 lEarlg ©Ijrontckrg of lEnglant) 
 
 of all monastic ruins. It is not merely the grace and 
 lightness of the architecture that distinguish their 
 roofless fabrics above all others. The situation 
 and scenery around are generally more attractive. 
 Who is not lost in wonder at the loveliness of 
 Tintern in the midst of its charming valley, its 
 unglazed windows serving as framework to the 
 most exquisite of natural pictures ? Who has not 
 felt the fascination of Melrose to be enhanced by 
 the beauties of the Tweed ? The very names of 
 Furness, Kirkstall, Fountains, recall images of 
 natural scenery no less than of romantic ruins. 
 Rarely, indeed, does any one visit a Cistercian 
 abbey without being struck by the situation and 
 surroundings, as well as by the picturesque remains 
 themselves. 
 
 Nor is this a mere accident of fate. The love 
 of nature was strong in St. Bernard, and he com- 
 municated it to his followers. " Believe me," he 
 said to one of his pupils in a passage which Shak- 
 speare may almost be thought to have had in his 
 mind at one time, " you will find something far 
 greater in the woods than you will in books. 
 Stones and .trees will teach you that which you 
 will never learn from masters. Think you not you 
 can suck honey from the rock, and oil from the 
 flinty rock ? Do not the mountains drop sweet- 
 ness, the hills run with milk and honey, and the 
 valleys stand thick with corn ? " By this teaching 
 the Cistercians v/ere encouraged to take up their 
 abodes in solitary places far away from the haunts 
 
iBUfo J&onagttc ©rtorg. 117 
 
 of men. The old Benedictine monasteries had 
 generally been built just outside the walls of towns, 
 or had gathered towns about them ; but the 
 Cistercians were dependent on grants of land in 
 remote districts where human labour had not yet 
 developed the resources of the soil. To this day, 
 the vicinity of a Cistercian monastery is generally 
 somewhat secluded, though rich and beautiful with 
 a cultivation which the monks were the first to 
 introduce. 
 
 The love of nature in St. Bernard was not com- 
 bined with a love of art or literature. Against 
 these things he rather set his face, as out of keep- 
 ing with the work his followers had to do. The 
 magnificent fabrics of the order all belong to the 
 succeeding age, when prosperity had brought with 
 it tastes and sentiments rather at variance with 
 those in which the order originated. The main 
 object which it was sought to enforce was purity. 
 All their monasteries were dedicated to the Virgin 
 Mary. No meretricious ornaments, no rich paintings, 
 or stained glass, or sculptures were to allure the 
 eye. Nor was it desirable to form extensive 
 libraries ; the work of the Cistercians was not to 
 be in the cloister or the scriptorium, but in the 
 fields. 
 
 Early in their history, however, their popularity 
 began to decline. Slenderly endowed at first 
 with lands which had . not yet been turned to 
 good account, it was only by the exercise of the 
 strictest parsimony that they could live and keep 
 
1 1 8 lEarlg ©Ijronickrg of lEnglanl). 
 
 up hospitality. This made them a little more 
 eager than was becoming in soliciting new endow- 
 ments. " None were more greedy," says Mr. 
 Brewer, "in adding farm to farm ; none less scru- 
 pulous in obtaining grants of land from wealthy 
 patrons ; and, what was far worse, in appropriating 
 the tithes and endowments of parish churches, and 
 pulling down the sacred edifices to suit their own 
 interests." It was in vain that they attempted to 
 justify acts like these by a hospitality to strangers, 
 which contrasted strangely with their own abste- 
 mious life. The greed of the Cistercians became a 
 byword ; and as various causes besides contributed 
 to a relaxation of discipline, they became the mark 
 of bitter satire. 
 
 These were the principal orders of monks. But 
 it was not only monks, in the proper sense of the 
 word, that began at this time to adopt new rules 
 of life. The monks were laymen ; but the clergy 
 also began to form themselves into orders, and to 
 live together in monasteries. Even the men of 
 war had their military orders, and formed commu- 
 nities by themselves after the manner of the monks. 
 It is not necessary, however, to do more than men- 
 tion the names of the Augustinian and Premonstra- 
 tensian Canons, as examples of the former class ; 
 and of the two great military orders, the Knights 
 Templars and the Knights of St. John of Jeru- 
 salem, otherwise called the Knights Hospitallers. 
 These latter of course originated in the days of 
 the Crusades. The Augaistinian Canons were 
 
£leto J&onagtic ©rticrg. 119 
 
 founded just before, but even they did not come 
 to England till the reign of Henry I, 
 
 Thus it will be seen that for more than a century- 
 after the Conquest the religious life of Europe and 
 of England was continually seeking new forms of 
 manifestation. The fact has left its mark upon 
 the literature of the time, but perhaps indirectly 
 quite as much as otherwise. For the new orders 
 generally were not literary, certainly not so much 
 so, on the whole, as their predecessors, the Bene- 
 dictines. The great monasteries of St. Alban's, Dur- 
 ham, and Croyland, long after the rise of these new 
 orders, had their separate schools of historians ; 
 nor was William of Malmesbury without successors, 
 although anonymous ones, in his own house. No 
 such continuous writing of history is found to have 
 occupied the inmates of smaller and more modern 
 establishments. The very severities they practised 
 — among other things the revival of the old mo- 
 nastic rule of daily manual labour in the fields — 
 were unfavourable to literary activity. The old 
 monasteries, too, remained the great centres "of 
 intelligence, and had better opportunities of col- 
 lecting information, in the first instance, than the 
 men who occupied Cistercian or Carthusian cells. 
 Nevertheless, even the Cistercians made some con- 
 tributions to historical literature ; and the very 
 interesting chronicle of Richard of Devizes, though 
 not actually the work of a Carthusian, may almost 
 be considered as an offspring of Carthusian zeal. 
 
 This writer was, as a matter of fact, only a monk 
 
lEarlg ©jjrcntcleriS of lEnglanti. 
 
 of the old cathedral priory of St. Swithin's, Win- 
 chester, which, like other foundations of the same 
 kind, was of the Benedictine Order. But Robert, 
 prior of St. Swithin's, had caught the enthusiasm 
 of the times, and, giving up his priory at Win- 
 chester, had joined himself to the newly established 
 Charterhouse at Witham, in Somersetshire. It 
 was but ten years since this, the parent house of 
 the Carthusian order in England, had been founded 
 by virtue of a grant from Henry II., and great 
 was the anxiety of religious persons to be assured 
 of the success of the experiment. After the re- 
 tirement of Prior Robert from Winchester, three 
 monks of his old monastery went to visit him at 
 Witham ; and among the three was Richard of 
 Devizes. The visit inspired him with an ardent 
 wish to join the new community himself, and 
 having arrived at Witham, he would have stayed 
 there but for the persuasions of his two brother 
 monks, who insisted on his return. " I came," he 
 said, " and oh that I had come alone ! I went 
 thither, making the third, and those that were with 
 me were the cause of my return. My desire dis- 
 pleased them, and they caused my fervour, I will not 
 say my error, to grow cold. I saw in your establish- 
 ment that which I had not believed, and I could 
 not sufficiently admire. In each of your cells there 
 is one door, according to rule, which you are per- 
 mitted to open at pleasure ; but to go out by it is 
 not permitted, except so much as that one foot 
 should always remain in the cell within the thres- 
 
Mtcijarb of Debt^g. 
 
 hold. A brother may step out with one foot, which- 
 ever he pleases, so long as the other remains in the 
 cell. A great and solemn oath is to be taken that 
 the doors should be kept open, by which it is not 
 permitted to enter or depart." 
 
 These words are addressed by our author to his 
 former prior in dedicating to him a history of the 
 reign of Richard I., undertaken in obedience to his 
 request. For though Prior Robert had withdrawn 
 more completely from the world, he still had his 
 eye upon it, and took the strongest possible interest 
 in what was doing in it. Indeed, this fact seems 
 to have struck Richard of Devizes as not a little 
 noteworthy, both in him and in the brethren at 
 Witham generally. " I cannot but admire," he 
 observes, "that living to yourselves apart out of 
 society, and singly, you understand all the great 
 things achieved in the world as they happen, and 
 even sometimes you know them prior to their being 
 accomplished." But who could be so utter a re- 
 cluse as to fail to take an interest in the events of 
 Cceur de Lion's reign ? Even at home there was 
 a great revolution, " turning squares into circles," 
 as our author expresses it ; while abroad there was 
 the brilliant expedition of the crusading king, rich 
 in actions, which have all the charms of romance 
 even to the present day. 
 
 Richard of Devizes seems to have been asked 
 by his old prior to include in his history some 
 account of the family troubles of King Henry II., 
 and the dissensions between him and his sons ; but 
 
lEarlp Chronicler* of lEnglantJ. 
 
 he preferred to leave these great subjects to other 
 pens. " My narrative," he says, " serves only for 
 the living." He accordingly begins it with the 
 Coronation of Richard I. at Westminster. The 
 very first paragraph, which is painfully characteristic 
 of the spirit of the times, is perhaps the least agree- 
 able to read in the whole work : — 
 
 " Now, in the year of our Lord's Incarnation, 1 189, Richard, 
 the son of King Henry II., by Eleanor, brother of Henry 
 III.,* was consecrated king of the English by Baldwin, 
 Archbishop of Canterbury, at Westminster, on the third of 
 the runes of September (3 Sept,). On the very day of the 
 coronation, about that solemn hour in which the Son was 
 immolated to the Father, they began, in the city of London, 
 to immolate the Jews to their father, the devil, and so long 
 was the duration of this famous mystery that the holocaust 
 could scarcely be completed on the second day. The other 
 cities and towns of the kingdom emulated the faith of the 
 Londoners, and with a like devotion despatched their blood- 
 suckers with blood to hell. Something, although unequally, 
 was at that time prepared against these abandoned ones 
 everywhere throughout the realm. Winchester alone spared 
 its vermin. The people there are prudent and circumspect, 
 and the city, always acting mildly, has never done anything 
 over speedily ; fearing nothing more than to repent, it weighs 
 the issue of things before the commencement. Being un- 
 prepared, it was unwilling at its own peril to cast up violently 
 through the parts the indigestion by which it was oppressed, 
 and it was careful for its own bowels, in the mean time 
 modestly concealing its uneasiness, until it may be possible, 
 at a convenient time for cure, to cast out the whole cause of 
 the disease at once, and once for all." 
 
 * Henry, the eldest son of Henry II., who died before his father, 
 having been crowned as king during his father's lifetime, is frequently 
 styled Henry III. in the early chronicles. 
 
l&trijart) of 3Bebiie$. 123 
 
 That a Christian monk, anxious to find a rule 
 of life which should most effectually separate him 
 from the wickedness of the world, could have per- 
 mitted himself to write in such a fashion of a whole- 
 sale massacre of the Jews, is a fact full of shame 
 and sorrow to all real lovers of religion. But as 
 even the most devoted of our Lord's first followers 
 " knew not what spirit they were of," when they 
 thought themselves most zealous, so we must expect 
 to find it will be to the end of time. One age 
 may be more violent ; another, born under happier 
 influences, may be more gentle ; but as times of 
 trial arise there will be a continual danger even 
 among the most devout, of mistaking the spirit of 
 persecution for true devotion to the Cross. In the 
 present case it is not altogether difficult to under- 
 stand the popular indignation. The Jews, as it 
 would appear from the statements of other authori- 
 ties, had been a little too obtrusive at the time of 
 the coronation. And what had the enemies of the 
 faith to do with such a solemnity ? Here was a 
 king sworn before coming to the crown to take up 
 arms against the infidels of the East — a glorious 
 and unheard-of example ; and the infidels within 
 his own kingdom dared to press into his presence, 
 even at the sacred rite of inauguration. They too, 
 who, with their extortions had been turning the 
 holy cause to their own account in filthy lucre — 
 who had been lending money at enormous interest 
 to those who wanted it to equip them for the Holy 
 Land. How could any one bespeak mercy for 
 such caitiffs ? 
 
124 l&arlg ©tjrcmtclers of lEnglanD, 
 
 Richard of Devizes, at least, could not. It is 
 more than doubtful whether he admires what he 
 calls the prudence and foresight of his own city 
 of Winchester, in never joining in these out- 
 bursts of popular fury. Elsewhere he tells us 
 that the Winchester Jews rewarded the clemency 
 of the inhabitants by murdering a boy there. The 
 story will strike the ordinary reader as a mare's 
 nest ; but there is much in the way in which it is 
 told well worthy of observation, and some inci- 
 dental description of localities in England which is 
 exceedingly curious. 
 
 It was a common opinion, at this time, that the 
 Jews occasionally crucified Christian children ; and 
 of course this belief lent additional vehemence to 
 the persecution which from time to time was 
 directed against them. It was well for this unfor- 
 tunate race that however little sympathy they 
 met with from any class of Christians, they at least 
 had made themselves useful to the rulers of the 
 world, and casually received some slight degree of 
 protection in consequence. It is curious that our 
 author, after describing the great massacre of the 
 Jews at Richard's coronation, goes on to relate two 
 or three trivial accidents that occurred the same 
 day as so ominous of misfortune during the reign, 
 that men could only speak of them with bated 
 breath. The massacre itself, it would seem, led to 
 no such sinister forebodings. 
 
 Neither was any cause of apprehension discovered 
 in Richard's abandonment of his own kingdom, 
 
&id)ar& of 39ebtj«5, 125 
 
 and of his duties as king, for an object of quite a 
 different character. The fact, on the contrary, 
 seemed in the highest degree commendable. "A 
 king," says this writer, "worthy of the name of 
 king, who, in the first year of his reign, left the 
 kingdom of England for Christ, scarcely otherwise 
 than if he had departed never to return. So great 
 was the devotion of the man, so hastily, so quickly, 
 and so speedily did he run, yea fly, to avenge the 
 wrongs of Christ ! " Richard, however, took some 
 pains, though more for the sake of his expedition 
 than of his subjects, to leave matters in a satisfac- 
 tory condition at his departure. Having received 
 power from the Pope to withdraw the cross from 
 any of his subjects who had taken the vow, whom 
 he might find necessary for the government of his 
 kingdom, he appointed Hugh de Pusac or Pudsey, 
 bishop of Durham, chief justice of the whole king- 
 dom, and obtained from him ten thousand pounds 
 of silver as the price of his creation as earl of 
 Northumberland. It was the jest of the day, this 
 making a young earl, as it was said, out of an old 
 bishop, to the king's profit. Sheriffs were deprived 
 of their offices on being accused of any malversa- 
 tion, and were glad to compound for pardon by 
 enormous gifts. Whoever found his money a burden 
 to him was relieved with the greatest possible faci- 
 lity ; and when an old acquaintance rallied the king 
 on his mode of raising supplies, he replied, " I would 
 sell London if I could find a chapman." 
 
 However little devotion this shows to the interests 
 
i26 Icnrlg CTfiromtlerg of lEnglant). 
 
 of his kingdom, the king was undoubtedly politic 
 as regards the actual object that he had in view. 
 He was equally wise in his selection of the man 
 who was to bear the chief responsibility of affairs 
 at home in his absence. William de Longchamp, 
 whom he himself had appointed bishop of Ely, was 
 his chancellor, and was indeed a faithful servant. 
 But his devotion to his master's interests did not 
 help to make him popular; and notwithstanding 
 our author's great admiration of the king, he gives 
 his minister a very unpleasant character : — 
 
 " William, bishop of Ely, the king's chancellor, by nature 
 a second Jacob, although he did not wrestle with the angel, 
 a goodly person, making up in mind for his shortness in 
 stature, secure for his master's love, and presuming on his 
 favour because all power was, is, and will be, impatient of a 
 partner, expelled Hugh de Pusac from the Exchequer, and 
 scarcely leaving him even his sword with which he had been 
 invested as a knight by the king's hand, after a short time 
 deprived him of the honour of his earldom also. And lest 
 the bishop of Durham alone should bewail his misfortunes, 
 the villain, who was now more cruel than any wild beast, and 
 spared nobody, fell like a pest upon the bishop of Winchester 
 also. The custody of the castles and county is taken away 
 from him, nor is he even permitted to enjoy his own patri- 
 mony. The kingdom is disturbed, and the discontented are 
 charged with disaffection to the king. Everybody crosses the 
 sea to importune the king against the tyrant ; but he having 
 crossed first of all, briefly related before the king a partial 
 account of his entire proceeding and expulsion ; by whom 
 also he was fully instructed in all things to be done. He 
 thus foiled the adverse wishes of his rivals, and was on his 
 return before those who assailed him could obtain admission 
 to the king's presence. So he returns to the English not less 
 
i&tcfjarfc of 3Btbiie$. 1 2 7 
 
 powerful and prosperous than one who has accomplished all 
 things whatsoever he desired." 
 
 Nevertheless, his rival, the bishop of Durham, 
 was for some time under a belief that the king had 
 given him a commission which would enable him 
 to maintain his authority as justiciar. The result 
 was a collision, which Richard of Devizes goes on 
 to describe v/ith some of his favourite classical 
 allusions and quotations : — 
 
 " The bishop of Durham in haste proceeded direct to 
 London, but not being received by the barons of the ex- 
 chequer, he hastily, as if sure to triumph, pursues his v/ay 
 after the chancellor, who at that time had gone on an expe- 
 dition towards Lincoln ; whom, having overtaken, he saluted 
 in the king's name, not frankly nor without a frown, and then 
 questioned him with austerity concerning the affairs of state, 
 as if it were not lawful to do anything without his consent. 
 He put aside fine language and long words ; and while he 
 gloried too much in power not yet received, not understand- 
 ing with whom he was speaking, he poured out whatever he 
 ought to have kept secret. At the conclusion of his address, 
 the staff is put forth to silence talk, the king's solemn act 
 much to be reverenced is exhibited for recital. The moun- 
 tains travail, the silly mouse is born. The observance of 
 strict silence is enjoined during the king's mandate ; all were 
 hushed and held their faces attentive. An epistle is read 
 in public, which would have been much more to be feared if 
 it had not been read so soon ; the other, well able to conceal 
 his device, shrewdly deferred to answer what he had heard 
 till the seventh day, arranging a place of conference at Tick- 
 hill. On the day appointed the bishop of Durham comes to 
 the castle, and his attendants being commanded to wait for 
 him before the gates, he goes in to the chancellor quite alone ; 
 he who before had held his peace speaks first, and compels 
 
128 lEarlg ©Ijtontclerg of lEnglanD. 
 
 the deceived one to recite with his own mouth letters he had 
 obtained after the former against whatever he had hoped. 
 As he was preparing to answer, he added, ' The other day, 
 while you were speaking it was time for me to be silent ; 
 now, that you may discern why I have taken a time for 
 speaking, you being silent, as my lord the king lives, you 
 shall not depart hence until you have given me hostages for 
 all the castles which you hold being delivered up to me, for 
 I do not take you as a bishop a bishop, but as a chancellor a 
 chancellor ! ' The ensnared had neither the firmness nor 
 the opportunity to resist ; the hostages are given, and at the 
 term assigned the castles are given up for the restoring of 
 the hostages." 
 
 Shortly afterwards, Richard of Devizes tells us 
 of the struggle William de Longchamp had to 
 maintain King Richard's authority in his absence 
 against his rebellious brother John. But mean- 
 while the reader's attention is occupied by an inte- 
 resting description of the equipment of the king's 
 fleet, and of its union with that of the French king 
 at Messina : — 
 
 " The ships which the king found already prepared on the 
 shore were one hundred in number, and fourteen busses, 
 vessels of very great magnitude and admirable swiftness, 
 strong vessels and very sound, whereof this was the equipage 
 and appointment. The first of the ships had three spare 
 rudders, thirteen anchors, thirty oars, two sails, three sets 
 of ropes of all kinds, and besides these double whatever a 
 ship can want, except the mast and the ship's boat. There 
 is appointed to the ship's command a most experienced 
 steersman, and fourteen subordinate attendants picked for 
 the service are assigned him. The ship is freighted with 
 forty horses of value, trained to arms, and with arms of all 
 kinds for as many horsemen, and forty foot, and fifteen sailors, 
 
3ftu:$ar& of 3Beti}e$. 129 
 
 and with an entire year's provisions for as many men and 
 horses. There was one appointment for all the ships, but 
 each of the busses received a double appointment and freight. 
 The king's treasure, which was very great and inestimable, 
 was divided amongst the ships and busses, that if one part 
 should experience danger, the rest might be saved. All 
 things being thus arranged, the king himself, with a small 
 household, and the chief men of his army, with his atten- 
 dants, having quitted the shore, advanced before the fleet in 
 galleys, and being daily entertained by maritime towns, 
 taking along with them the larger ships and busses of that 
 sea, arrived prosperously at Messina. So great was the 
 splendour of the approaching armament, such the clashing 
 and brilliancy of their arms, so noble the sound of the 
 trumpets and clarions, that the city quaked and was greatly 
 astounded, and there came to meet the king a multitude of 
 all ages, people without number, wondering and proclaiming 
 with what exceeding glory and magnificence that king had 
 arrived, surpassing the King of France, who, with his forces, 
 had arrived seven days before. And forasmuch as the King 
 of France had been already received into the palace of 
 Tancred, King of Sicily, within the walls, the King of 
 England pitched his camp without the city. The same day, 
 the King of France, knowing of the arrival of his comrade 
 and brother, flies to his reception ; nor could their gestures 
 sufficiently express in embraces and kisses how much each 
 of them rejoiced in the other. The armies cheered one 
 another with mutual applause and intercourse, as if so many 
 thousand men had been all of one heart and one mind. In 
 such pastimes is the holiday spent until the evening, and 
 the weary kings departing, although not satiated, return 
 every one to his own quarters." 
 
 For all this, however, the difference in character 
 between the two kings, which made real co-opera- 
 tion impossible, displayed itself almost imme- 
 diately. As our author continues : — 
 
 ENG. K 
 
lEarlg @fitontckr*S of lEnglantJ, 
 
 " On the next day, the King of England presently caused 
 gibbets to be erected without the camp to hang thereon 
 thieves and robbers. The judges delegated spared neither 
 sex nor age ; the cause of the stranger and the native found 
 the like law and the like punishment. The King of France, 
 whatever transgression his people committed, or whatever 
 offence was committed against them, took no notice and 
 held his peace ; the King of England esteeming the country 
 of those implicated in guilt as a matter of no consequence, 
 considered every man his own, and left no transgression un- 
 punished ; wherefore the one was called a Lamb by the 
 Griffones, the other obtained the name of a Lion." 
 
 The Griffones, as they were called, a mongrel 
 race of Greeks and Saracens, the most powerful 
 and warlike people of that region, were particularly- 
 troublesome. They favoured the French, but con- 
 tinually broke faith with the English, and harassed 
 them, till Philip himself, who had been endeavour- 
 ing to arrange terms of amity, came to the tent of 
 the King of England to bear witness that he held 
 him blameless in taking up arms to punish them. 
 Richard accordingly proceeded to attack the city 
 of Messina : — 
 
 " The terrible standard of the dragon is borne in front 
 unfurled, while behind the king the sound of the trumpet 
 excites the army. The sun shone brightly on the golden 
 shields, and the mountains were resplendent in their glare ; 
 they marched cautiously and orderly, and the affair was 
 managed without show. The Griffones, on the contrary, the 
 city gates being closed, stood armed at the battlements of 
 the walls and towers, as yet fearing nothing, and incessantly 
 discharged their darts upon the enemy. The king, acquainted 
 with nothing better than to take cities by storm and batter 
 
&tri)ari) of Wzbiztz. 131 
 
 forts, let their quivers be emptied first, and then at length 
 made his first assault by his archers who preceded the army. 
 The sky is hidden by the shower of arrows, a thousand darts 
 pierce through the shields spread abroad on the ramparts ; 
 nothing could save the rebels against the force of the darts. 
 The walls are left without guard, because no one could look 
 out of doors but he would have an arrow in his eye before 
 he could shut it. In. the mean time the king, with his troops, 
 without repulse, freely, and as though with permission, ap- 
 proached the gates of the city, which, with the application 
 of the battering-ram, he forced in an instant, and, having 
 led in his army, took every hold in the city, even to Tancred's 
 palace and the lodgings of the French around their king's 
 quarters, which he spared in respect of the king, his lord. 
 The standards of the victors are planted on the towers 
 through the whole circuit of the city, and each of the sur- 
 rendered fortifications he entrusted to particular captains of 
 his army, and caused his nobles to take up their quarters in 
 the city." 
 
 This author passes lightly over, or rather omits 
 to mention, the quarrels which arose between 
 Richard and Philip, and the breaking off of Richard's 
 engagement to marry the French king's sister. He 
 also expresses himself rather mysteriously about 
 Richard's engagement with Berengaria of Navarre, 
 and the journey undertaken by his mother, Queen 
 Eleanor, to conduct the young lady to him in 
 Sicily : — 
 
 " Queen Eleanor, a matchless woman, beautiful and chaste, 
 powerful and modest, meek and eloquent, which is rarely 
 wont to be met with in a woman who was advanced in years 
 enough to have had two husbands and two sons crowned 
 kings, still indefatigable for every undertaking, whose power 
 was the admiration of her age, having taken with her the 
 
132 3Earlg ©firomclerjs of lEnglanO. 
 
 daughter of the King of the Navarrese, a maid more accom- 
 plished than beautiful, followed the king, her son, and 
 having overtaken him still abiding in Sicily, she came to 
 Pisa, a city full of every good, and convenient for her recep- 
 tion, there to await the king's pleasure, together with the 
 King of Navarre's ambassadors and the damsel. Many 
 knew what I wish that none of us had known. The same 
 queen, in the time of her former husband, Louis VII. of 
 France, went to Jerusalem. Let none speak more thereof. 
 I also know well. Be silent." 
 
 Some of the further adventures which befel the 
 expedition before it reached the Holy Land have 
 an additional interest nowadays on account of the 
 island which was the scene of them. 
 
 " The fleet of Richard, King of the English, put out to 
 sea, and proceeded in this order. In the forefront went three 
 ships only, in one of which was the Queen of Sicily and the 
 young damsel of Navarre, probably still a virgin ; in the 
 other two, a certain part of the king's treasure and arms ; in 
 each of the three marines and provisions. In the second 
 line there were, what with ships, and busses, and men-of-war, 
 thirteen ; in the third, fourteen ; in the fourth, twenty ; in the 
 fifth, thirty ; in the sixth, forty ; in the seventh, sixty ; in the 
 last, the king himself, followed with his galleys. There was 
 between the ships, and between their lines, a certain space 
 left by the sailors at such interval, that from one line to 
 another the sound of the trumpet, from one ship to another 
 the human voice, could be heard. This also was admirab^ 
 that the king was no less cheerful and healthy, strong and 
 mighty, light and gay, at sea, than he was wont to be by 
 land. I conclude, therefore, that there was not one man 
 more powerful than he in the world, either by land or sea. 
 
 "Now, as the ships were proceeding in the aforesaid 
 manner and order, some being before others, two of the three 
 first, driven by the violence of the winds, were broken on the 
 
&id)arti of Ueb{?eg. 133 
 
 rocks near the port of Cyprus ; the third, which was English, 
 more speedy than they, having turned back into the deep, 
 escaped the peril. Almost all the men of both ships got 
 away alive to land, many of whom the hostile Cypriotes slew, 
 some they took captive, some taking refuge in a certain 
 church, were besieged. Whatever also in the ships was cast 
 up by the sea, fell a prey to the Cypriotes. The prince also 
 of that island coming up, received for his share the gold and 
 the arms ; and he caused the shore to be guarded by all the 
 armed force he could summon together, that he might not 
 permit the fleet which followed to approach, lest the king 
 should take again what had been thus stolen from him. 
 Above the port was a strong city, and, upon a natural rock, 
 a high fortified castle. The whole of that nation was war- 
 like, and accustomed to live by theft. They placed beams 
 and planks at the entrance of the port, across the passage, 
 the gates, and entrances ; and the whole land, with one mind, 
 prepared themselves for a conflict against the English. God 
 so willed that the cursed people should receive the reward of 
 their evil deeds by the hands of one who would not spare. 
 The third English ship, in which were the women, having 
 cast out its anchors, rode out at sea, and watched all things 
 from opposite, to report the misfortune to the king, lest 
 haply, being ignorant of the loss and disgrace, he should 
 pass the place unrevenged. The next line of the king's ships 
 came up after the other, and they all stopped at the first. 
 A full report reached the king, who, sending heralds to the 
 lord of the island, and obtaining no satisfaction, commanded 
 his entire army to arm, from the first even to the last, and 
 to get out of the great ships into the galleys and boats, and 
 follow him to the shore. What he commanded was imme- 
 diately performed ; they came in arms to the port. The 
 king being armed, leaped first from his galley, and gave the 
 first blow in the war ; but before he was able to strike a 
 second, he had three thousand of his followers with him 
 striking away by his side. All the timber that had been 
 placed as a barricade in the port was cast down instantly, 
 
134 lEarlg ©Dtonicktg of lEnglani). 
 
 and the brave fellows went up into the city as ferocious as 
 lionesses are wont to be when robbed of their young. The 
 fight was carried on manfully against them, numbers fell 
 wounded on both sides, and the swords of both parties were 
 made drunk with blood. The Cypriotes are vanquished, the 
 city is taken, with the castle besides ; whatever the victors 
 choose is ransacked, and the lord of the island is himself 
 taken and brought to the king. He being taken, supplicates 
 and obtains pardon ; he offers homage to the king, and it is 
 received ; and he swears, though unasked, that henceforth 
 he will hold the island of him as his liege lord, and will open 
 all the castles of the land to him ; make satisfaction for the 
 damage already done ; and further, bring presents of his 
 own. On being dismissed after the oath, he is commanded 
 to fulfil the conditions in the morning." 
 
 Instead of doing so, however, the king of Cyprus 
 was found next day to have escaped. Richard is 
 joined at the same time by the king of Jerusalem, 
 who came to the island to salute him ; and the two 
 kings combine to pursue the fugitive, the one by 
 land and the other by water. Their forces reas- 
 sembled before a city in which he had taken refuge, 
 and a sharp battle is fought, in which the English 
 would have been beaten if they had been under 
 any other general but king Richard. They gain, 
 however, a dear-bought victory, and pursue the 
 king of the island to a third castle, where he sur- 
 renders on condition that he should not be put in 
 irons. Having learnt, apparently, some degree of 
 duplicity from his adversary, King Richard con- 
 sents, and causes shackles of silver to be made for 
 him. He then traverses the whole island, takes 
 all its castles, and appoints constables of his own 
 
3&id)art> of Mtbiiw. 135 
 
 to keep them ; assigning also sheriffs and justices 
 for the whole island, just as in England. He after- 
 wards sails to the siege of Acre, capturing on his 
 way a very large merchant ship destined by Saladin 
 for the relief of the besieged. His arrival at Acre, 
 we are told, "was welcomed by the besiegers with 
 as great joy as if it had been Christ that had come 
 again on earth to restore the kingdom of Israel." 
 The French king had got there before him, but his 
 lustre paled on Richard's arrival like that of the 
 moon before the rising sun. 
 
 Richard had brought with him from Sicily the 
 materials of a wooden fortress which he had set up 
 at Messina to overawe the Griffones. It was now 
 set up at Acre, and from its height men overlooked 
 the city. Archers were set upon it, who shot their 
 missiles at the Turks and Thracians, while engines 
 cast stones, and battering rams assailed the walls, 
 of which sappers also undermined the foundations. 
 The soldiers, at the same time protected by their 
 shields, planted scaling ladders and sought an 
 entrance over the ramparts. "The king himself 
 ran up and down through the ranks, directing some, 
 reproving some, and urging others, and thus was 
 he everywhere present with every one of them, so 
 that whatever they all did, ought properly to be 
 ascribed to him." Affairs grew desparate with the 
 besieged, and many of them, prior to surrender, 
 " made a purse of their stomachs," as our author 
 expresses it, swallowing a number of gold coins 
 that the victors might not profit by their wealth. 
 
136 lEarlg (Efirotucktg of ISnglanD. 
 
 So all of them came disarmed before the kings of 
 England and France outside the city and were 
 given into custody. 
 
 The causes which led the French king soon after 
 this to desert King Richard and abandon the ex- 
 pedition altogether, are described as follows. After 
 mentioning (certainly without a sign of disapproval) 
 that Richard beheaded all his captives except one 
 of the most distinguished, the writer says : — 
 
 " A certain marquess of Montferrat, a smooth-faced man, 
 had held Tyre, which he had seized on many years ago, to 
 whom the king of the French sold all his captives alive, and 
 promised the crown of the region which was not yet con- 
 quered ; but the king of the English withstood him to the 
 face. ' It is not proper,' said he, 'for a man of your reputa- 
 tion to bestow or promise what is not yet obtained ; but 
 further, if the cause of your journey be Christ, when at 
 length you have taken Jerusalem, the chief of the cities of 
 this region, from the hand of the enemy, you will, without 
 delay or condition, restore the kingdom to Guy, the legiti- 
 mate king of Jerusalem. For the rest, if you recollect, you 
 did not obtain Acre without a participator, so that neither 
 should that which is the property of two be dealt out by one 
 hand.' Oh, oh ! how fine for a goodly throat ! The mar- 
 quess, bereft of his blissful hope, returns to Tyre, and the 
 king of the French, who had greatly desired to strengthen 
 himself against his envied ally by means of the marquess, 
 now fell off daily ; and this added to the continual irritation 
 of his mind — that even the scullion of the king of the English 
 fared more sumptuously than the cupbearer of the French. 
 After some time, letters were forged in the tent of the king of 
 the French, by which, as if they had been sent by his nobles 
 out of France, the king was recalled to France. A cause is 
 invented which would necessarily be respected more than it 
 
Mtcfjart) of 3Bebiie$. 1.3 7 
 
 deserved ; his only son, after a long illness, was now des- 
 paired of by the physicians ; France exposed to be desolated, 
 if after the son's death, the father (as it might fall out) should 
 perish in a foreign land. So, frequent council being held 
 between the kings hereupon, as they were both great and 
 could not dwell together, Abraham remaining, Lot departed 
 from him. Moreover, the king of the French, by his chief 
 nobles, gave security by oath for himself and his vassals to 
 the king of the English, that he would observe every pledge 
 until he should return to his kingdom in peace." 
 
 But, after all, the story of the Crusade occupies 
 but a secondary place in this author's narrative. 
 Here and there it comes in by fragments, just as 
 the news from the East may be supposed to have 
 reached the monasteries of England, diverting 
 attention from time to time amid the troubles at 
 home. To the modern reader the domestic history 
 of England under Richard I. is of very inferior 
 interest ; the imagination is engrossed by his ad- 
 ventures in the Holy Land, and what befel him on 
 his way thither and back to his own kingdom. 
 But in the brief chronicle of Richard of Devizes 
 affairs wear their natural aspect, and the progress 
 of the Crusade, though watched with the deepest 
 interest, is thrown into the background. We follow 
 the acts of King Richard, not as in a romance, but 
 as in a journal, with the pride of contemporaries 
 and fellow-countrymen in achievements which have 
 made our king and nation distinguished above all 
 others. Yet with the greatest possible sympathy 
 on our part we cannot help feeling the more imme- 
 diate pressure of things at home, where Earl John 
 
138 lEarlg ©Drcmiclcrg of lEnglanti. 
 
 is gnashing his teeth with anger at the chancellor, 
 and the latter with all his astuteness is at length 
 unable to contend with him. We learn how the 
 chancellor, after in vain calling upon the city of 
 London to close its gates against the earl, throws 
 himself for his own safety into the Tower, and is 
 watched by the citizens that he may not escape ; 
 also, how Earl John comes to London, where a 
 great meeting is held and elects him chief justiciary 
 of the kingdom, ordering that all castles shall be 
 surrendered to such as he shall appoint ; how the 
 chancellor, placed at bay and without hope of 
 assistance, even then refuses to acknowledge him ; 
 how the Tower is more closely besieged in conse- 
 quence ; and how the chancellor at last quits the 
 fortress and goes to meet his accusers, promising 
 to submit to whatever should be determined, so 
 that he is compelled to surrender his castles, but 
 cannot be got even then to acknowledge himself in 
 the wrong, or yield up any office committed to him 
 by the king, till he has appealed by message to the 
 king himself. The heroism oC the chancellor, one 
 would think, might have excited some small share 
 of the admiration so freely bestowed upon the 
 heroism of King Richard ; but it meets with little 
 enough from Richard of Devizes. 
 
 The modern reader will, however, form his own 
 comment on various subjects quite apart from the 
 reflections in which our author is pleased to indulge. 
 For Richard of Devizes had not the gift of pro- 
 phecy, and could not discern the germ of great 
 
l&tdjarti of. Debueg. 139 
 
 future good in what seemed to him a mere result 
 of anarchy. Thus, just after the passage above 
 quoted about the parting of the French and English 
 kings, we are told of the first incorporation of the 
 city of London, which is recorded as follows : — 
 
 " On that day the commonalty of the Londoners was 
 granted and instituted, to which all the nobles of the king- 
 dom, and even the very bishops of that province, are com- 
 pelled to swear. Now for the first time London, its con- 
 spiracy being pardoned, found by experience that there was 
 no king in the kingdom, as neither king Richard himself, nor 
 his predecessor and father Henry, would have suffered this 
 to be done for one thousand thousand marks of silver. How 
 great evils forsooth may come forth of this conspiracy, may 
 be estimated by a definition, such as this. The commonalty 
 is the pride of the mob, the dread of the kingdom, the fer- 
 ment of the priesthood (tumor plebis, timor regni, tepor 
 sacerdotii?) 
 
 Another subject on which this Winchester monk 
 felt very strongly was the conduct of Hugh de 
 Nonant, bishop of Coventry, in removing monks 
 from his cathedral and filling their places with 
 secular canons. He and his monks seem to have 
 been on bad terms for some time, and in October, 
 1 190, when two new bishops were consecrated at 
 Westminster by Archbishop Baldwin, Hugh de 
 Nonant laid his complaint before the primate and 
 the other assembled bishops, that they had laid 
 violent hands on him and drawn his blood before 
 the altar. He had already, however, before com- 
 plaining, expelled the greater part of them, and 
 his object in laying the case before his brother 
 
140 lEarlg ©firomckrg of Isnglant). 
 
 prelates was to obtain their sanction to what he 
 had done. The bishops shared his feelings and 
 approved the act. Monks were laymen and apt to 
 be a little insubordinate now and then ; so the 
 bishops, although it is said they only yielded to 
 Hugh de Nonant's importunity, could not but sym- 
 pathise with what was done. Bishop Hugh accord- 
 ingly not only expelled the monks but broke down 
 all the workshops of the monastery, that secular 
 industry might no longer be carried on within its 
 walls. Nay, he removed the walls themselves, and 
 made use of the materials in finishing his own 
 cathedral, and employed freely the property of the 
 monastery in giving wages to masons and plas- 
 terers. Special delicacies from two of the chief 
 manors of the monks were always placed on his 
 table before him. With the rest of their revenues 
 he endowed prebends, some of which he placed for 
 ever at the disposal of the see of Rome for the 
 benefit of the cardinals, appointing certain cardinals 
 prebendaries from the very first. A fine row of 
 houses soon grew up for the accommodation of the 
 new canons, even of the absent ones, in case that 
 once in their lives they were ever tempted to visit 
 the place. Not one of the prebendaries kept 
 regular residence. 
 
 "'This, forsooth,' exclaims our monk with indignation, 
 ' this forsooth is true religion ; this should the Church imitate 
 and emulate.' It will be permitted the secular canon to be 
 absent from his church as long as he may please, and to 
 consume the patrimony of Christ where, and when, and in 
 
Jitcftarl) of HBtbiit$, 141 
 
 whatsoever luxuries he may list. Let them only provide this, 
 that a frequent vociferation be heard in the house of the 
 Lord. If the stranger should knock at the door of such, if 
 the poor should cry, he who lives before the door would 
 answer (he himself being a sufficiently needy vicar) ' Pass 
 on, and seek elsewhere for alms, for the master of the house 
 is not at home.' This is the glorious religion of the clergy, 
 for the sake of which the bishop of Chester, the first of men 
 that durst commit so great iniquity, expelled his monks from 
 Coventry. For the sake of clerks irregularly regular * — that 
 is to say, of canons, he capriciously turned out the monks ; 
 monks who, not with others', but with their own mouths 
 praised the Lord, who dwelt and walked in the house of the 
 Lord with unanimity all the days of their lives, who, beyond 
 their food and raiment knew nothing earthly, whose bread 
 was always for the poor, whose door was at all times open to 
 every traveller : yet they did not thus please the bishop, who 
 never loved either monks or their order. A man of bitter 
 jocularity, who even though he might occasionally spare some 
 one of them never ceased to worry the monks." 
 
 We must now take leave of Richard of Devizes, 
 a writer to whom, considering the brevity of his 
 chronicle we have perhaps devoted more attention 
 than our limits justly warranted. But as an expo- 
 nent of his own times he stands alone. A more 
 detailed and even a more interesting account ol 
 Richards I.'s expedition to the Holy Land has been 
 written by an actual eye-witness ; but it is devoted 
 to that subject alone. There are also other chro- 
 nicles which treat of the internal affairs of England, 
 but none with so much zest. Whoever really seeks 
 
 * This is a bitter sarcasm. Canons of the order of St. Austin 
 were called regular canons, because they lived under his rule. But 
 these were not even regular canons of St. Austin. 
 
142 lEarlg ©Ijrorackrg of ianglanD. 
 
 to comprehend the spirit of Cceur de Lion's age — 
 the spirit of the monk, of the crusader, and of the 
 politician, should read the chronicle of Richard of 
 Devizes before all others. His style is a little 
 artificial, owing to his extreme love of expressing 
 himself in the words of classical authors. His 
 pages are full of quotations, which are better evi- 
 dence of his extensive reading than of a highly 
 cultivated taste. But it must be admitted that his 
 powers of description were of no mean order, and 
 that the matter of his little treatise is of rare and 
 exceptional value. 
 
 A remarkable picture both of monastic and of 
 social life in England at the end of the twelfth 
 century, may be seen in the chronicle of Joceline of 
 Brakeland, monk of St. Edmundsbury,* giving an 
 account of the energetic government of Abbot 
 Sampson of that monastery. Sampson's prede- 
 cessor Hugh was old and feeble, and had got the 
 house into debt. The farms, forests, and manor 
 houses of the abbey were all going to decay, and 
 to keep up the dignity of the house he borrowed 
 money at interest. The debt of the monastery 
 had been regularly increasing for eight years before 
 the abbot's death ; and what was worse, every 
 minor official had a seal of his own and bound 
 himself in like manner, both to Jews and Chris- 
 tians. For these practices the cellarer had been 
 
 * Edited for the Camden Society, by John Gage Rokewode, in 
 1840 ; and afterwards translated by T. E. Tomlins, under the title 
 of Monastic and Social Life in the Twelfth Century. 
 
^Jocdine of . 3Srafcdant>. 143 
 
 deposed, and the old abbot was induced to make 
 master Sampson his subsacrist, who kept a very 
 strict survey over the workmen employed in the 
 monastery and took care " that no breach, chink, 
 crack, or flaw should be left unremedied so far as he 
 was able." After the abbot's death he was elected 
 to fill his place, not directly, but as the result of 
 various conferences between a deputation of monks 
 and the king. 
 
 Thoroughly imbued with the monastic spirit him- 
 self, he seems to have been in every way well fitted 
 to rule in such a community. The cause of his first 
 becoming a monk he had related himself to our 
 informant Joceline. When a child of nine he had 
 dreamed the devil appeared to him with out- 
 stretched arms before the gates of a monastery 
 and wanted to seize him, on which he screamed 
 out " St. Edmund, save me ! " and awoke calling 
 upon a saint whose name he verily believed he had 
 never heard before. His mother, hearing the 
 dream, very naturally took him to St. Edmund's 
 to pray ; and on coming near the monastery he 
 exclaimed to her, " See, mother, this is the very 
 place I saw in my dream ! " There could not be a 
 doubt what to do with such a child. 
 
 The following picture of the man is not a little 
 interesting : — 
 
 " The abbot Sampson was of middle stature, nearly bald, 
 having a face neither round nor yet long, a prominent nose, 
 thick lips, clear and very piercing eyes, ears of the nicest 
 sense of hearing, lofty eyebrows, and often shaved ; and he 
 
144 lEarlg ©fitoniclerg of lEnglant). 
 
 soon became hoarse from a short exposure to cold. On the 
 day of his election he was forty and seven years old, and had 
 been a monk seventeen years ; having a few grey hairs in a 
 reddish beard, with a few grey in a black head of hair which 
 somewhat curled ; but within fourteen years after his election, 
 it all became as white as snow ; a man remarkably temperate, 
 never slothful, well able and willing to ride or walk till old 
 age gained upon him and moderated such inclination ; who 
 on hearing the news of the cross being captive, and the loss 
 of Jerusalem, began to use under-garments of horse-hair and 
 a horse-hair shirt, and to abstain from flesh and flesh meats ; 
 nevertheless he desired that meats should be placed before 
 him while at table for the increase of the alms dish. Sweet 
 milk, honey and such like things he ate with greater appetite 
 than other food. He abhorred liars, drunkards, and talkative 
 folks ; for virtue ever is consistent with itself and rejects contra- 
 ries. He also much condemned persons given to murmur at 
 their meat or drink, and particularly monks who were dissatis- 
 fied therewith, himself adhering to the uniform course he had 
 practised when a monk. He had likewise this virtue in him- 
 self that he never changed the mess you set before him. 
 Once when I, then a novice, happened to serve in the refec- 
 tory, it came into my head to ascertain if this were true, and 
 I thought I would place before him a mess which would have 
 displeased any other but him, being served in a very black 
 and broken dish. But when he had looked at it, he was as 
 one that saw it not. Some delay taking place, I felt sorry 
 that I had so done ; and so, snatching away the dish I 
 changed the mess and the dish for a better, and brought it to 
 him ; but this substitution he took in ill part, and was angry 
 with me for it. An eloquent man was he both in French and 
 Latin, but intent more on the substance and method of what 
 was to be said than on the style of words. He could read 
 English manuscript very critically, and was wont to preach to 
 the people in English, as well as in the dialect of Norfolk, 
 where he was. born and bred ; wherefore he caused a pulpit to 
 be set up in the church for the ease of the hearers, and for 
 
3Jfocelm« of ^rafeelanti. 145 
 
 the ornament of the church. The abbot also seemed to 
 prefer an active life to one of contemplation, and rather com- 
 mended good officials than good monks ; and very seldom 
 approved of any one on account of his literary acquirements, 
 unless he also possessed sufficient knowledge of secular 
 matters ; and whenever he chanced to hear that any prelate 
 had resigned his pastoral care and become an anchorite, he 
 did not praise him for it. He never applauded men of too 
 complying a disposition, saying ' He who endeavours to 
 please all, ought to please none.' " 
 
 He himself was a man not to be trifled with. 
 Extravagance had been so long tolerated in the 
 office of the cellarer, that even with a change of 
 men it could not be altogether checked. Abbot 
 Sampson associated a clerk with the new cellarer 
 to act as his controller, and when even that measure 
 proved ineffectual, took the office into his own 
 hands. It was a very important office indeed ; for 
 the cellarer bought provisions for the convent, sold 
 their corn for them, and levied a number of diffe- 
 rent dues within the town. 
 
 But even Abbot Sampson himself failed occa- 
 sionally in securing the rights of his convent as 
 against the town. It was urged upon him that 
 the monastery had not its fair share in the increas- 
 ing prosperity of the country ; that while the 
 burgage rents of other towns in England were 
 enhanced, St. Edmund's only paid the abbot forty 
 pounds as it had done of yore. The burgesses had 
 been quietly allowed to ignore the rights of the 
 lord abbot. Many were the stalls and sheds and 
 shops they had set up in the market-place merely 
 
 ENG. L 
 
146 lEarlg Chroniclers of lEnglanD. 
 
 by agreement with the town bailiffs, without the 
 assent of the convent. The convent are of opinion 
 that it is high time to stop this sort of thing. The 
 burgesses are summoned to make answer and 
 appeal from the abbot's court to the king's ; they 
 claim that the town is free by charter in respect of 
 all tenements held for one year and a day in time 
 of peace without any claim being made upon them; 
 also they allege divers old customs which the 
 monastery do not admit. Our abbot, however, 
 thinks it will not do to disturb old possessors right 
 and left. He accepts as a compromise the payment 
 of one hundred shillings. The burgesses agree, 
 but are slack in paying even that, and offer a silken 
 hood of the same value every year on condition 
 of being quit of the tithes of their profits de- 
 manded by the sacrist ; and this being refused, we 
 lose both our silken hood and our hundred shillings. 
 A practical comment upon an old saw, thinks 
 Joceline, for — 
 
 " He that will not when he may, 
 When he will, he shall have nay." 
 
 But our abbot is much more spirited in vindi- 
 cating our spiritual rights against the Archbishop 
 of Canterbury, Hubert Walter, legate of the 
 apostolic see, who, coming home from the north, 
 sends two clerks to express his intention of paying 
 us a visit, and to know if we will receive him as a 
 legate is received elsewhere. On this we take 
 counsel, and come to the determination that we are 
 
3Jocclinc of IfoafulanD. 147 
 
 willing to receive him with all honour and reverence, 
 and we send messengers of our own along with his 
 to intimate the same. But " our intention was that 
 in the same way as we had done to the Bishop of 
 Ely and other legates, so, in like manner, should 
 we show him all possible honour, with a procession 
 and ringing of bells, and that we should receive him 
 with the other usual solemnities, until he should 
 come into the chapterhouse, perhaps with the inten- 
 tion of making his visitation, which, if he were to 
 proceed in doing, then all of us were to oppose him 
 might and main to his face, appealing to Rome 
 and standing upon our charters." Meanwhile, how- 
 ever, the archbishop is gratified by our reply ; but 
 we, for our part, lose no time in sending a messenger 
 to the Pope to know if we be accountable to any 
 legate except one sent by his Holiness a latere. 
 The Pope decides in our favour, and sends the 
 archbishop a prohibition against exercising juris- 
 diction over any exempt church like that of our 
 monastery. So the primate's purpose is defeated, 
 and our liberties are successfully maintained. 
 
 This process of sending to Rome was not always 
 free from difficulty. Abbot Sampson himself, in 
 former days, had gone on such a mission when the 
 times were full of danger : — 
 
 " It was reported to the abbot that the church of the 
 Woolpit was vacant, Walter of Coutances being chosen to 
 the bishopric of Lincoln. He presently convened the prior 
 and great part of the convent, and, taking up his story, thus 
 began : ' Ye well know what trouble I had in respect of the 
 
148 lEarlg ©firoiuckrg of fSnglanti. 
 
 church of Woolpit ; and, in order that it should be obtained 
 for your own use, I journeyed to Rome at your instance, at 
 the time of the schism between Pope Alexander and Octa- 
 vian ; and I passed through Italy at that time, when all 
 clerks bearing letters of our lord, the Pope. Alexander, were 
 taken, and some were imprisoned, and some hanged, and 
 some, with nose and lips cut off, were sent back to the Pope, 
 to his shame and confusion. I, however, pretended to be a 
 Scotchman ; and, putting on the garb of a Scotchman, I 
 often shook my staff in the manner they use that weapon 
 they call a gaveloc* at those who .mocked me, uttering 
 threatening language, after the manner of the Scotch. To 
 those who met and questioned me as to who I was, I an- 
 swered nothing but "Ride, ride Rome, tic7-n Canterbury P\ 
 This I did to conceal myself and my errand, and that I should 
 get to Rome safer under the guise of a Scotchman. Having 
 obtained letters from the Pope, even as I wished, on my 
 return I passed by a certain castle, as I was taking my way 
 from the city, and behold the officers thereof came about me, 
 laying hold upon me and saying, " This vagabond, who makes 
 himself out to be a Scotchman, is either a spy, or bears letters 
 from the false Pope Alexander." And while they examined 
 my ragged clothes, and my leggings, and my breeches, and 
 even the old shoes which I carried over my shoulders, after 
 the fashion of the Scotch, I thrust my hand into the little 
 wallet which I carried, wherein was contained the writing of 
 our lord the Pope, close by a little jug I had for drinking ; 
 and the Lord God and St. Edmund so permitting, I drew out 
 that writing together with the jug, so that, extending my arm 
 aloft, I held the writ underneath the jug. They could see the 
 jug plain enough, but they did not find the writ ; and so I 
 got clear out of their hands, in the name of the Lord. What- 
 
 * A javelin or pike. 
 
 f Intended probably to convey to his questioners the idea, "I 
 ride to Rome, and then return to Canterbury." In other words, 
 "I am a mere pilgrim, first going to Rome, and then to visit St. 
 Thomas a Becket's shrine." 
 
^ocelme of 33raManti. 149 
 
 ever money I had about me they took away ; therefore it 
 behoved me to beg from door to door, being at no charge, 
 until I arrived in England.'" 
 
 Of the good works done by Abbot Sampson 
 during his tenure of office, it is specially to be 
 noted that he bought stone houses in the town for 
 schools, endowed the hospital of Babwell for the 
 support of the poor with lands which he had pur- 
 chased from King Richard, and caused the guest- 
 house, larder, and various other portions of the 
 monastery, to be rebuilt, or roofed over with tiles 
 instead of thatch, to exclude all danger of fire. 
 A stone almshouse, too, is made to replace a 
 wooden one. The abbot is discouraged from be- 
 stowing costly gifts upon the church by the fact 
 that the silver table of the great altar, and other 
 precious ornaments, had to be given up for the 
 redemption of King Richard ; but he devotes his 
 principal efforts to making a crest to the shrine of 
 St. Edmund which no man hereafter shall dare to 
 lay hands on ; for though everything else that was 
 valuable all over England was taken for King 
 Richard's redemption, that shrine was left inviolate. 
 The question had, indeed, come before the justices 
 of the Exchequer, whether the shrine of St. Edmund 
 should not be, at least in part, stripped of its orna- 
 ments ; but the abbot answered firmly, " Be assured 
 that will never be done by me, nor can any man 
 compel me to assent to it. I will, however, open 
 the doors of the church ; let any man enter who 
 will, and let him come who dares." Then each of 
 
150 lEarlg ©frronidcrg of lEnglanti. 
 
 the justices answered with an oath, "Not I, not I. 
 St. Edmund is severe even upon the remote and 
 absent ; much more will he rage against those 
 present who attempt to carry off his tunic." So 
 the shrine is safe, it is believed, for after ages, " and 
 now plates of gold and silver resound between the 
 hammer and the anvil." 
 
 It is no wonder that in a case of this kind our 
 abbot resists the demands of the king's justices. 
 He can even resist the king himself. King Richard, 
 at the solicitation of some of his courtiers, desires 
 of him the wardship of the infant daughter of 
 Adam de Cokefeld. It is the feudal right of the 
 abbot himself, and he has already given it away. 
 He sends a messenger to the king to excuse him- 
 self. Richard storms at the refusal, and swears he 
 would be revenged on the proud abbot, were it not 
 for the reverence of St. Edmund, whom he fears. 
 On the return of the messenger, the abbot calmly 
 answers the king's threats : " Let the king send, if 
 he will, and seize the ward ; he has power to do 
 his own will, and carry off the whole abbey. I will 
 never bend to give my assent to what he asks, nor 
 shall it ever be done by me ; for it is to be feared 
 that such things will be drawn into precedents to 
 the prejudice of my successors. For this matter 
 I will never give money to the king. Let the Most 
 High see to it. I will patiently endure whatever 
 may befall." On this people expected that the 
 king would be still more deeply offended ; but, 
 instead of that, he wrote to the abbot in a friendly 
 
3}ocdme of 93t:aMan&. 151 
 
 tone, and desired of him only a present of some of 
 his dogs, which the abbot had the wisdom to send, 
 with some horses, and further gifts superadded. 
 The result was that the king publicly commended 
 the abbot's loyalty, and sent him a valuable ring 
 which he had received from Pope Innocent III., 
 the first gift sent to him by the new pontiff after 
 his consecration. 
 
 We have already made pretty considerable 
 extracts from a very brief chronicle, besides giving 
 the substance of other passages of great interest ; 
 but almost every page is full of matter that invites 
 quotation. Besides contentions with the towns- 
 men of St. Edmund's, the abbey has controversies 
 with the city of London and with other powerful 
 bodies elsewhere : — 
 
 " The merchants of London claimed to be quit of toll at 
 the fair of St. Edmund ; nevertheless, many paid it, un- 
 willingly, indeed, and under compulsion ; wherefore a great 
 tumult and commotion was made among the citizens of 
 London in their hustings. However, they came in a body 
 and informed the abbot, Sampson, that they were entitled to 
 be quit of toll throughout all England, by authority of the 
 charter which they had from King Henry the Second. 
 Whereto the abbot answered, that were it necessary he was 
 well able to vouch the king to warranty that he never granted 
 them any charter to the prejudice of our church, nor to the 
 prejudice of the liberties of St. Edmund, to whom St. Edward 
 had granted and confirmed toll and theam and all regalities 
 before the conquest of England ; and that King Henry had 
 done no more than give to the Londoners an exemption from 
 toll throughout his own lordships, and in places where he 
 was able to grant it ; but so far as concerned the town of 
 
i.52 lEarlg ©ijromckrg of lEngknD. 
 
 St. Edmund, he was not able so to do, for it was not his to 
 dispose of. The Londoners hearing this, ordered by common 
 council that no one of them should go to the fair of St. 
 Edmund ] and for two years they kept away, whereby our 
 fair sustained great loss, and the offering of the sacrist was 
 very much diminished indeed. At last, upon the mediation 
 of the Bishop of London and many others, it was settled 
 between us and them, that they should come to the fair, and 
 that some of them should pay toll, but that it should be forth- 
 with returned to them, that by such a colourable act the 
 privilege on both sides should be preserved. But in process 
 of time, when the abbot had made agreement with his 
 knights, and, as it were, slept in tranquility, behold again 
 ' the Philistines be upon thee, Sampson ! ' Lo, the London- 
 ers, with one voice, were threatening that they would lay 
 level with the earth the stone houses which the abbot had 
 built that very year, or that they would take distress by a 
 hundred-fold from the men of St. Edmund's, unless the abbot 
 forthwith redressed the wrong done them by the bailiffs of 
 the town of St. Edmund's who had taken fifteen pence from 
 the carts of the citizens of London, who, in their way from 
 Yarmouth, laden with herrings, had made passage through 
 our demesnes. Furthermore, the citizens of London said 
 that they were quit of toll in every market, and on every 
 occasion, and in every place throughout all England, from 
 the time when Rome was first founded, and that London 
 was founded at the very same time. Also that they ought to 
 have such an exemption throughout all England, as well by 
 reason of its being a privileged city, which was of old time 
 the metropolis and head of the kingdom, as by reason of its 
 antiquity. But the abbot sought reasonable imparlances 
 thereupon until the return of our lord, the King of England,* 
 that he might consult with him upon this ; and having taken 
 advice of the lawyers, he replevied to the claimants those 
 fifteen pence, without prejudice to the question of each party's 
 right." 
 
 * This was during King Richard's absence on the Crusade. 
 
3tocelme of 38raManD. 153 
 
 Another dispute of a similar nature led to pro- 
 ceedings of a more energetic character. It was 
 with the monks of Ely, who had set up a market 
 at Lakenheath, having obtained a charter from the 
 king. The monks of St Edmund's complain of 
 the infringement of their rights, but suggest a com- 
 promise. The monks of Ely refuse to give way ; 
 on which those of St, Edmund's procure an inquest 
 to be had,' and the king gives them a charter that 
 no market be henceforth held within the liberty 
 of St. Edmund, without the abbot's assent. The 
 steward of the hundred accordingly goes to inter- 
 dict its being held, but meets with so much abuse 
 and violence that he is driven to make good his 
 retreat. The abbot being then at London consults 
 with lawyers about it, and sends his bailiffs with a 
 company of men of St. Edmund's to interrupt the 
 market and carry off any buyers and sellers they 
 might find into custody. At dead of night six 
 hundred men, well armed, took the road from St 
 Edmund's to Lakenheath. Their approach was no 
 sooner observed than all who were at the market 
 ran hither and thither, so that not one of them 
 could be found. The prior of Ely had made 
 preparations with his bailiffs to defend the buyers 
 and sellers, but he was quite discomfited and dared 
 not stir out of his inn ; while the men of St. 
 Edmund's carried off shambles, stalls, and cattle, 
 the latter being given up by replevin shortly after. 
 It was a glorious victory ; but the bishop, it seems, 
 took proceedings afterwards for the outrage, and 
 the final result is not recorded. 
 
154 lEarlg ©Ijronickrg of lEnglanti. 
 
 Thus, even monastic life, we find, was not with- 
 out occasional excitement ; and we are thankful 
 to the pen which has described for us so vividly 
 what these excitements were. In this brief 
 chronicle of Joceline of Brakeland we realise many- 
 things for which we look in vain to more elaborate 
 compositions ; and for a social picture of the times 
 it is altogether unique. The monk, we can very- 
 well perceive, was by no means so cut off from the 
 world as to have lost all sympathy with what his 
 neighbours were doing out of doors. On the con- 
 trary, it is he more than others who is concerned in 
 all that passes. We can see distinctly how the 
 town itself is the mere foster-child of the monastery ; 
 how its markets, its fairs, and its customs all belong 
 to the abbot ; how the monastery provides for the 
 education of the district, and is the centre not 
 merely of the religious, but even of the social life 
 of the community. And surely the facts which 
 illustrate all this are quite as material to a true 
 conception of our history as anything related by 
 more voluminous writers concerning the great 
 events of the times in which they wrote. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 IMAGINATIVE AND-SOBER HISTORY- 
 NORTHERN WRITERS. 
 
 -WELSH AND 
 
 Robert of Gloucester's patronage of literature — Geoffrey of Mon- 
 mouth's History of the Kings of Britain — Its popularity — Its 
 apocryphal character and extraordinary legends — Their acceptance 
 as history — Clergymen more witty than monks — William of New- 
 burgh denounces Geoffrey's History — Giraldus Cambrensis also — 
 Credulity of Giraldus — His account of his birthplace — His family 
 and personal history — His election to St. David's — Goes to Ireland 
 with Prince John — His Topographia Hibernice — His Vaticinal 
 History of the Conquest of Ireland — Description of Henry II. 
 — Itinerary through Wales — Character of the North of England 
 historians — Simeon of Durham — Ailred of Rievaulx — William of 
 Newburgh — Roger of Hoveden — Chronicle of Melrose — Walter 
 Hemingburgh — The Chronicle of Lanercost. 
 
 At this stage in our narrative it seems right to 
 draw attention to some new influences which began 
 to tell upon historical literature under the Norman 
 kings, and prevailed a long time after. 
 
 The encouragement which learning had received 
 at the court of Henry I. of England, the king so 
 honourably known in history by the surname of 
 Beauclerc, continued to yield fruit for some time 
 
156 lEarlg ©Jjromckrg of lEnglanti. 
 
 after his death. His natural son Robert, Earl of 
 Gloucester, became the patron of letters in his 
 place; and it is a striking fact that through the 
 stormy period that ensued, authors looked up to 
 him as their friend and benefactor. To him 
 William of Malmesbury dedicated both his earlier 
 and his later history, and it was in compliance with 
 his request that the latter work was undertaken. 
 The terms in which William of Malmesbury ac- 
 knowledges the earl's patronage are honourable 
 alike to the writer and the person addressed. " You 
 condescend," he said, " to honour with your notice 
 those literary characters who are kept in obscurity, 
 either by the malevolence of fame, or the slender- 
 ness of their fortune. And, as our nature inclines 
 us not to condemn in others what we approve in 
 ourselves, therefore men of learning find in you 
 manners congenial to their own ; for, without the 
 slightest indication of moroseness, you regard them 
 with kindness, admit them with complacency, and 
 dismiss them with regret. Indeed, the greatness of 
 your fortune has made no difference in you, except 
 that your beneficence can now almost keep pace 
 with your inclination." 
 
 This was a truly graceful compliment ; but it 
 was exceeded by another veiy celebrated author, 
 who likewise dedicated his work to Earl Robert. 
 It cannot be doubted, however, that the language 
 used by Geoffrey of Monmouth in presenting to his 
 patron his History of the Kings of Britain, was 
 the result of artful and studied flattery. Geoffrey 
 
fficoffwg of JHonmoutfj. 157 
 
 of Monmouth modestly disclaims the honours of 
 original authorship. He is perhaps the first of 
 those ingenious romancers who profess to be only 
 translating out of some other language works really 
 composed by themselves. His friend Walter, 
 Archdeacon of Oxford, he says, had lent him a 
 very ancient book in the British tongue, containing 
 the whole early history of the British nation ; and 
 at the archdeacon's request, though he, Geoffrey, 
 had not made a study of fine language, he had 
 been induced to translate it into Latin. He had 
 not adorned it with rhetorical flourishes, which 
 might only have served to distract attention from 
 the history. But perhaps the work in consequence 
 was rather bald and unattractive. " To you, there- 
 fore," he says, " Robert, Earl of Gloucester, this 
 work humbly sues for the favour of being so cor- 
 rected by your advice that it may not be thought 
 to be the poor offspring of Geoffrey of Monmouth, 
 but when polished by your refined wit and judg- 
 ment, the production of him who had Henry, the 
 glorious King of England, for his father, and whom 
 we see an accomplished scholar and philosopher, as 
 well as a brave soldier and expert commander ; so 
 that Britain with joy acknowledges that in you she 
 possesses another Henry." 
 
 The History which Geoffrey thus succeeded 
 in palming off upon the world under such dis- 
 tinguished patronage, is in truth one of the most 
 extraordinary works of art that the Middle Ages 
 ever succeeded in producing. Of mythical tales 
 
158 lEarb ©Tjvontclers of lEnghntu 
 
 and curious legends there was certainly no lack in 
 those days ; but the fabrication of a long consecu- 
 tive history, to fill up a gap or form a prelude to 
 the authentic annals of a nation, was something 
 altogether new. Yet the story was so wonderfully 
 told, the invention was so admirable, and the 
 marvels related appealed so strongly to the imagi- 
 nation, that the world for ages after seems to have 
 been at a loss what to make of it. It was not easy, 
 even at the first, for a man of any judgment to be 
 a thorough believer ; but it required some boldness, 
 even after centuries had passed away, to dispute 
 the authority of fictions which owed their vitality in 
 the first instance to Geoffrey's imaginative pen. 
 
 Very soon after its first appearance the book 
 was translated into several languages. It was 
 versified by two popular poets in Norman French, 
 and by another in English. The stories of King 
 Arthur became renowned throughout Christendom, 
 and were augmented by continual additions. 
 Romances without end were woven upon the same 
 original text. " Indeed," as Sir Thomas Hardy 
 remarks, " it is hardly going beyond bounds to say 
 that there is scarcely an European tale of chivalry 
 down to the sixteenth century that is not derived, 
 directly or indirectly, from Geoffrey of Monmouth. 
 If he had never written, our literature would not, in 
 all probability, have been graced by the exquisite 
 dramas of Lear and Cymbeline ; and much of the 
 materials which he has woven into his work would 
 no doubt have perished." 
 
dfooffwg of J&onmour]}. 159 
 
 Geoffrey, it has been supposed, was a native of 
 the place after which he was called. That he was 
 so, however, is by no means certain, as the surname 
 is sufficiently accounted for by the fact that he was 
 Archdeacon of Monmouth. Very little is known 
 about his life, except that he held this dignity, and 
 that he was promoted in 1152 to the bishopric of 
 St. Asaph, which he could only have held for a 
 very brief period, as his successor was elected in 
 1 1 54- But it is quite clear from the nature of his 
 writings that he was a Welshman who sought to 
 invest the early history of his nation with a glory 
 and an interest far surpassing that of the Anglo- 
 Saxon annals. How far he was assisted in the 
 process by existing traditions and legends it is 
 perhaps in vain to speculate ; but it is not very easy 
 to regard his work as a mere collection, or even, as 
 what it professes to be, a mere translation from 
 a British original. 
 
 The truth evidently is that as the Welsh people 
 came more in contact with Norman civilization, the 
 Celtic imagination was fired with the thought of 
 their own proud position among the inhabitants of 
 Britain. They alone were the true descendants of 
 the race that had possessed the island before Julius 
 Caesar landed. They had their own princes, their 
 own laws, and their own legends, reaching far back 
 beyond the era of Roman history itself. The 
 Welsh to this day are great genealogists, who love 
 to trace their pedigrees back to a very remote 
 period. There are also among them great linguists, 
 
160 Icarlj) ©Drontckrg of lEnglanti. 
 
 who pursue the etymology of words with a zeal 
 perhaps even greater than the philologists of other 
 nations. It was, therefore, a problem for Welshmen 
 more than for any other people to discover the 
 origin of the name of Britain, and to tell how the 
 island was first peopled. The name of Britain was 
 derived from Brutus, and this Brutus was a great- 
 grandson of ^Eneas, the hero of Virgil's epic. The 
 adventures of Brutus, as recorded by Geoffrey, are 
 certainly not less wonderful than those of his 
 supposed ancestor in the ^Eneid. Driven, with a 
 little band of followers, out of Italy, Greece, and 
 Mauritania successively, notwithstanding prodigies 
 of valour performed in each of these countries, he 
 is directed by an oracle to seek out an island lying 
 beyond Gaul in the Western main, where he should 
 found a second Troy, and where his descendants 
 should be kings of the whole earth. He accordingly 
 passes through Aquitaine, ravaging the country, and 
 having various conflicts with native kings. At last 
 he sails into Britain, inhabited then by none but a 
 few giants, whom he and his companion, Corineus, 
 delighted to encounter ; and having gained com- 
 plete possession of the island, he founds his new 
 Troy on the banks of the Thames. It was by a 
 corruption of the original name, we are informed, 
 that new Troy became afterwards Trinovantum; 
 and, at a later date still, after it had been fortified 
 by King Lud, the brother of King Cassivelaunus, 
 who reigned in Britain when Julius Caesar landed, 
 it obtained from him the name of Kaer-Lud, or 
 
ffieoffreg of JWonmoutf). 161 
 
 Lud's-town, which, of course, the reader quite 
 understands to have been the original form of 
 London. 
 
 Such is the beginning of this marvellous history, 
 which becomes even more marvellous as it pro- 
 ceeds ; and how it could ever have been regarded 
 as serious, especially since the days of printing, 
 when books have become more generally accessible, 
 is the greatest marvel of all. The circumstantial 
 account given of Brutus and all the long line of his 
 successors might indeed well deceive uncritical 
 readers in an age accustomed to believe in wonder- 
 ful and miraculous legends ; but apart altogether 
 from the extraordinary character of the things 
 related, there was always much to shake the faith 
 of any one who was tolerably well read in the 
 history of other nations. Not only does the native 
 king Cassivelaunus twice drive back Julius Cfesar 
 from the shores of Britain before the conquest of 
 the island is effected, but more than one British 
 king subdues continental countries, and among 
 others, the great King Arthur subdues Denmark, 
 Norway, Aquitaine, and Gaul, without leaving the 
 faintest traces of the achievement in the annals or 
 literature of any other nation. Grotesque attempts 
 are moreover made in some places to dovetail 
 Roman history into the narrative, or to modify it 
 in such a way as to augment the glory of the 
 Britons. Thus the story of Brennus, the Gaul, 
 who sacked the city of Rome, is turned to strange 
 account. Geoffrey claims this achievement for 
 
 ENG. M 
 
1 62 lEarlg ©fwntclerg of lEnglant). 
 
 Brennius, a British king, who had first conquered 
 Gaul, and he otherwise absurdly perverts the story 
 by making Porsena one of the Roman consuls who 
 sued to him for peace. 
 
 But how a people, possessed of such an ancient 
 history, preserved, as it would seem, by their own 
 historians, could have been aware of contemporary 
 events in distant regions in some of the remotest 
 periods, is perhaps the most wonderful thing of all. 
 For we are assured that of the successors of 
 Brutus, one was contemporary with the prophet 
 Samuel ; that Ebraucus built the city of York, or 
 Kaer-Ebrauc, " about the time that David reigned in 
 Judea and Sylvius Latinus in Italy, and that Gad, 
 Nathan, and Asaph prophesied in Israel ; " that 
 Bladud built the city of Bath, and made hot baths 
 in it about the time when Elijah prayed it might 
 not rain. This attempt to synchronise the fabulous 
 British history with the Biblical and other records 
 is, we need not say, as full of impossibilities as all 
 the rest. The whole narrative is, indeed, from 
 beginning to end, a tissue of absurdities. 
 
 That speculative etymologies had much to do 
 with its fabrication is clearly shown not only by 
 the instances of Brutus giving his name to Britain 
 and an equally mythical King Lud to London, but 
 by a good number of other cases. King Lud was 
 evidently invented to account for Ludgate rather 
 than for London, but his name only required a little 
 manipulation to make him godfather to the English 
 metropolis itself. Ebraucus in the same way founds 
 
(Seoffrqj of i&onmoutl). 163 
 
 Eboracum or York, Belinus erects Billingsgate, and 
 Leicester, which we are told was originally Leircestre, 
 owed its name and origin to Leir, the King Lear 
 whose story was dramatised by Shakespeare. But 
 these and other things, being introduced into the 
 narrative v/ith all seriousness, yet as mere incidental 
 facts, have such a very plausible appearance that 
 we are reminded somewhat of the description of 
 Laputa and the grave comments therein contained, 
 as to the origin and etymology of the name of the 
 island. 
 
 Nothing, indeed, more resembles the imaginative 
 creations of Dean Swift in the consistency with 
 which they are carried out through the details of a 
 long narrative than this British history of Geoffrey 
 of Monmouth. The Trojan fable is not merely the 
 starting point of the story. It reappears at in- 
 tervals throughout the narrative, and is boldly 
 placed in the light of a well-known fact recognized 
 in former days by the whole civilized world. Julius 
 Caesar pauses upon the Gallic coast before he 
 ventures on the invasion of Britain, and fixes his 
 eyes upon the ocean. The island is visible to him 
 in the distance across the Channel. " In truth," he 
 says, "we Romans and Britons have the same 
 origin, since both are descended from the Trojan 
 race. Our first father, after the destruction of 
 Troy, was ^Eneas ; theirs Brutus, whose father was 
 Sylvius, the son of Ascanius, the son of ^Eneas. 
 But I am deceived if they are not much degene- 
 rated from us," and so forth. The idea of Julius 
 
164 lEatlg CPIjrojuclerg of lEnglanli. 
 
 Caesar owning a common ancestry with the bar- 
 barians whom he invaded, and speaking of them 
 thus, as the kinsmen of his own people, has in it 
 something peculiarly ridiculous. 
 
 Yet such was the popularity of Geoffrey's 
 History, so widely was it read, so universally 
 talked about, and so credulously accepted by the 
 many, that from this time the Trojan origin of the 
 British people came to be regarded in the light of 
 an established fact. Ethnology had not yet become 
 a science, and if any one doubted the hypothesis, 
 no one, at least, was able to confute it. In course 
 of time Brutus fairly took his place among the 
 historical personages of antiquity. Learned monks 
 in their cloisters sat down to write the annals of 
 their country, and began, as a matter of course, 
 with Brutus. A whole series of chronicles of a 
 later age, copied one from another with variations, 
 derive from this the common epithet of The 
 Brute ; and long after the revival of letters and the 
 printing press had given the world better means of 
 judging, learned antiquaries were still found to 
 dispute with each other as to the reality of this 
 shadowy hero. 
 
 Thus it is impossible to do justice to the his- 
 torical literature of the Middle Ages without taking 
 into account the extraordinary influence which 
 Geoffrey's History exercised for a long time on 
 the historical imagination. In a more legitimate 
 sphere, indeed, its influence survives even at the 
 present day. From Geoffrey of Monmouth, as we 
 
(Seoffteg of J&onmoutJ). 165 
 
 have already indicated, Shakespeare obtained the 
 story of King Lear ; and from the same source are 
 derived the prophecies of Merlin, and the fabled 
 history of King Arthur, which have supplied poets 
 and romancers with endless materials for their art 
 from the days of Sir Thomas Malory to those of 
 Spenser, and from the days of Spenser to those of 
 Tennyson. 
 
 But this bold invasion of the province of history 
 by the genius of romance, was a thing at that time 
 so unprecedented, indeed so utterly inconceivable 
 to most readers, that there seemed no alternative 
 between accepting it for what it professed to be, 
 and denouncing it as an impudent fabrication. The 
 whole narrative stood in marked and violent contrast 
 to the sober histories penned by monastic annalists. 
 The very first words of the introduction were such 
 as would at once put a modern reader on his guard. 
 " Whilst occupied with many and various studies," 
 says the author, " I happened to light upon the 
 History of tlie Kings of Britain, and wondered 
 that in the account which Gildas and Bede, in their 
 elegant histories, had given of them, I found nothing 
 said of those kings who lived here before the Incarna- 
 tion of Christ, nor of Arthur, and many others who 
 succeeded after the Incarnation ; though their actions 
 deserved immortal fame, and were also celebrated 
 by many nations, being, as it weie, inscribed upon 
 their minds, and pleasantly reported from memory." 
 The whole thing was an attempt to supply from 
 imagination and legend a record of the pre-historic 
 
1 66 lEarlj) ©Jirontclcrg of lEnglant). 
 
 times that Bede and Gildas had left untouched. 
 Not that the entire narrative is to be regarded as 
 due to the invention of a single man ; for both 
 Brutus and Arthur had become popular heroes long 
 before, and Welsh bards had doubtless vied with 
 each other in producing life-like stories of the 
 mythical ancestors of recorded British kings, whose 
 descendants were yet looked upon as princes. But 
 Geoffrey had woven together with consummate art 
 a multitude of things, some part of which he had 
 extracted from the writings of an old author called 
 Nennius, some part he may have listened to with 
 eagerness from the lips of native Welshmen, and 
 some part he had himself invented in a similar 
 spirit. It was certainly a very different kind of 
 history, and gathered from quite a different region, 
 from the histories that had been penned in cloisters. 
 For Geoffrey, it must be remembered, was not a 
 monk ; he was an archdeacon. The age of pure 
 monastic history is now at an end, when the secular 
 clergy, as they are called, clergymen who live 
 habitually in the world, and have continual inter- 
 course with all classes of men, take up the pen and 
 write. Endowed with the same love of letters as 
 their monastic brethren, and compelled by social 
 intercourse to study the various humours of men 
 in a way for which the discipline of the convent 
 afforded no training whatever, the foremost eccle- 
 siastics of the day were distinguished by their wit 
 and sociable feeling quite as much as by their 
 learning. And these qualities shine remarkably in 
 
fficofrcg of J&onmoutf). 167 
 
 their writings. The monks recorded the actions of 
 men ; ecclesiastics painted their heroes to the very- 
 life. The dignity of archdeacon seems to have been 
 the most favourable position in the Church for the 
 cultivation of letters. Henry of Huntingdon was 
 an archdeacon ; so was Geoffrey of Monmouth. 
 The most lively writer of the succeeding age was 
 Giraldus Cambrensis, Archdeacon of Brecknock. 
 His witty friend Walter Mapes, author of many 
 humorous and satirical writings both in prose and 
 verse, and also, it would seem, of the earliest 
 Romances of the Round Table, was Archdeacon of 
 Oxford.* They were all admirable observers of 
 men, knew thoroughly what human nature was, 
 admired it, sympathized with it, and quizzed it in 
 a way which the recluse in his cell must have con- 
 sidered bordering upon levity. Never had ink 
 and parchment been lowered to such trivial uses. 
 
 Imagination has from this time more influence 
 over historical writing than it ever had before. But 
 it was not to be expected that the first great effort of 
 the imaginative school would be allowed in that age, 
 to pass altogether unrebuked. A northern monk, 
 named William of Newburgh, denounced with in- 
 dignation the mendacity of Geoffrey's History. 
 It was a great merit, he observed, in the work of 
 Gildas, notwithstanding the badness of his style 
 that he did not fear to speak the truth of his own 
 
 * Mapes, however, was probably an author long before he was 
 archdeacon. If the date given by Sir Thomas Hardy (Catalogue, ii. 
 488) be right, he was only made an archdeacon in 1196. 
 
r68 lEarlg ©ftroniclersJ of lEnglanD. 
 
 people, of whom he had little good to record. 
 According to Gildas, they were neither valiant in 
 war nor faithful in peace. " But now," he adds, 
 " a certain writer has appeared in our times, who, 
 to wipe away these blots on the character of the 
 Britons, composes ridiculous figments about them, 
 and with impudent vanity extols their valour above 
 that of the Macedonians and the Romans, This 
 man is named Geoffrey, with the surname of 
 Arthur, because he has dressed up in a Latin garb 
 with the honest name of history stories of Arthur, 
 derived from early British fables, and augmented 
 by his own ingenuity; and with still greater daring, 
 he has published as genuine and trustworthy 
 prophecies the most fallacious divinations of a 
 certain Merlin, to which also he has certainly added 
 very much of his own while translating them into 
 Latin." 
 
 Notwithstanding the popularity of Geoffrey's 
 History there cannot be a doubt that these 
 strictures were felt to be just by readers possessed 
 of any discrimination. On the other hand, they 
 have been attributed by later writers to a feeling 
 of spite against the Welsh people. Such a feeling, 
 however, could not have actuated Giraldus Cam- 
 brensis, himself a Welshman, though of Norman 
 descent, and in his own way possessed of quite as 
 lively an imagination as Geoffrey himself. And 
 not only does Giraldus, in the course of his writings, 
 distinctly speak of Geoffrey's History as fabulous, 
 and take pains to set aside some of his fancied 
 
 
(Kraltius ©amfcrenste. 169 
 
 etymologies, but he evidently agrees with William 
 of Newburgh in regarding the work as an impudent 
 imposture ; in proof of which he relates a singular 
 story of a Welshman named Melerius, who had an 
 extraordinary familiarity with unclean spirits. The 
 man used to see the spirits equipped as hunters, 
 with horns hung from their necks. He knew when 
 any one spoke falsely, for he saw the devil leaping 
 and exulting upon the liar's tongue. Although he 
 could not read, he could set his finger on a passage 
 in any book that contained a falsehood, and in walk- 
 ing through the dormitory of a religious house, he 
 could tell the bed of a monk who was not truly 
 devout. " If the evil spirits oppressed him too much, 
 the Gospel of St. John was placed on his bosom, 
 when, like birds, they immediately vanished ; but 
 when that book was removed, and the History of 
 the Britons, by Geoffrey Arthur, was substituted in 
 its place, they instantly reappeared in greater 
 numbers, and remained a longer time than usual 
 on his body and on the book." 
 
 There is nothing like confuting fictions by facts ; 
 but, somehow, even this remarkable manifestation 
 of its falsehood did not utterly destroy the credit 
 of Geoffrey's History. Perhaps, as the modern 
 reader will conjecture, the authority of Giraldus 
 could not be expected to carry much more weight 
 than that of the author whom he so condemned. 
 In point of fact, though in a different way, Giraldus 
 had often taxed the credulity of his readers every 
 whit as much as Geoffrey of Monmouth himself 
 
170 lEarlg ©ijromclerg of lEnglanti. 
 
 Giraldus, in fact, was, just like Geoffrey, a very- 
 imaginative Welshman, a lover of wonders, and a 
 retailer of extraordinary stories. For some of 
 these he had been seriously taken to task by a 
 contemporary, under whose criticisms he evidently 
 felt very uncomfortable. He had talked of a wolf 
 holding conversations with a priest, and giving 
 evidence that he was a man transformed into an 
 animal. He had spoken of an island in which men 
 never died, and of another in which no female 
 creature could live. He had described a great 
 many other things almost equally absurd. When, 
 pointing to instances such as these, his adversaries 
 attempted to cast discredit on his writings, Giraldus 
 quoted the example of Balaam's ass to show that 
 they were not beyond the limit of possibility ; but, 
 not much liking to rest on that defence, he added 
 that he did not vouch for all that he had reported 
 as if it was undoubted truth. He was not himself 
 such a firm believer as to entertain no sort of 
 misgivings, and he would neither maintain the 
 facts where they had not come within his know- 
 ledge, nor plainly admit that they were fictitious. 
 
 It seems a little curious that to such a man the 
 fictions in Geoffrey's History should have been so 
 unpalatable. But, in point of fact, they were not 
 so in all things. Giraldus himself believed that 
 Brutus was the ancestor of the Britons, and that 
 Loegria, the Welsh name of England, was derived 
 from Locrinus, the eldest son of Brutus. He believed 
 even in King Arthur. In all that tended to exalt 
 
(SxitalDug <£amfi«nste. 171 
 
 the antiquity of the Welsh nation and confer dis- 
 tinction upon their ancestry, he seems to have 
 acquiesced most readily ; but some of the deeds 
 related of King Arthur were just a little too much. 
 It would be hard to get well-educated men to 
 believe things so utterly at variance with received 
 history, and a scholar like Giraldus could not help 
 feeling sorely that they tended to bring his nation 
 into disrepute. 
 
 This Giraldus, however, has an interest for us on 
 his own account altogether apart from what he 
 says of Geoffrey of Monmouth. Having left us an 
 autobiography, we know more about him than we 
 do about most mediaeval historians ; and as his 
 personal history is very much interwoven with 
 everything else that he wrote, a brief sketch of 
 his life, in connection with his writings, will best 
 set forth what we have to say of him. 
 
 He was born in the year 1 147, at the Castle of 
 Manorbeer, in Pembrokeshire, pleasantly situated 
 on the coast, about five miles west of Tenby. He 
 himself gives a delightful picture of his birthplace, 
 which those who have seen it can easily believe 
 was not overdrawn. For the castle of Manorbeer 
 still stands, a very perfect ruin ; and, though the 
 orchard and the fishponds are gone, in which 
 Giraldus so delighted, the situation is still a charm- 
 ing one. The following is his description of the 
 place : — 
 
 . " The castle called Maenor Pyrr, that is the 
 mansion of Pyrrhus " — (Welsh etymology again, 
 
T/ 2 lEailg ©ijrontclerg of lEnglaui). 
 
 striving to work out a fabulous history !) — " is about 
 three miles distant from the castle of Pembroke. 
 It is conspicuous for its turrets and battlements, 
 and stands on the top of a hill, extending on the 
 western side towards a seaport. On the north side 
 is an excellent fishpond close to its walls, remark- 
 able for its extent and the depth of its waters ; and 
 on the same side a very beautiful orchard, shut in 
 here by the fishpond and there by a grove, remark- 
 able for the projection of its rocks and the height 
 of its hazel trees. On the right hand of the 
 promontory, between the castle and the church, 
 near the site of a very large pond and a mill, a 
 rivulet of never-failing water finds its way into a 
 valley, made sandy by the violence of the winds. 
 To the west, and at some distance from the castle, 
 the Severn, in a winding angle, enters the Irish 
 Sea ; and the southern rocks, if they bent a little 
 further towards the north, would form an admirable 
 harbour. From this point you may see almost all 
 the ships from Britain, driven by the east wind 
 towards Ireland, bravely daring the inconstancy of 
 the winds and the furious blind rage of the sea. 
 The country is well supplied with corn, with fish, 
 and with wine imported ; and, better than all, from 
 its nearness to Ireland, it enjoys a salubrious air. 
 Demetia, indeed, with its seven cantreds, is the 
 most beautiful as well as the most powerful district 
 of Wales ; Pembroke is the finest part of Demetia ; 
 and the place I have just described is the most 
 delightful part of Pembroke. It is evident, there- 
 
(£tral!)u# ©am&rengtg. 173 
 
 fore, that Maenor Pyrr is the pleasantest spot in 
 Wales ; and the author may be pardoned for saying 
 so much in praise of his native soil and his own 
 birthplace." 
 
 From the country of his birth Giraldus derived 
 the surname of Cambrensis, or the Welshman, by 
 which he is popularly known. By his enemies, on 
 the other hand, he was sometimes called Sylvester, 
 or the Savage. But his family name was De Barri, 
 indicating a Norman descent by the preposition 
 " de," though Barri was only the name of an island 
 in the Bristol Channel, a little way off the coast of 
 Wales. By the mother's side he was descended 
 from the celebrated Nesta, mistress of Henry I., 
 and daughter of Rhys ap Tudor, prince of South 
 W 7 ales. Nesta, by her marriage with Gerald de 
 Windsor, Castellan of Pembroke, became the 
 ancestor of the long line of the Fitzgeralds, and 
 also gave birth to a daughter named Angharad, 
 who married William de Barri, and was the mother 
 of Giraldus. He was the youngest son of that 
 family, named, no doubt, after his grandfather the 
 Castellan ; and being allied in blood with the first 
 conquerors of Ireland, a country which he himself 
 visited, he wrote a very admirable history of its 
 conquest, besides what he called a Topography of 
 the island, which, however, is more in the nature 
 of a general account of its natural history and 
 inhabitants, invaluable to historians of later times 
 as the only vivid picture of Ireland and the Irish 
 that the Middle Ages have left behind them. 
 
174 ^arfg ©&wn(clttjs of ?EnglanO. 
 
 His education was committed to his uncle, David 
 Fitzgerald, Bishop of St. David's, with whom he 
 remained till he reached his twentieth year. From 
 a child he seems to have displayed great partiality 
 for the Church, insomuch that his father was accus- 
 tomed to call him "the little bishop.''" He was 
 evidently precocious, and must have gained from 
 his earliest youth an acquaintance with Latin 
 authors, quite unusual in that age ; for his writings, 
 interlarded as they are with innumerable quota- 
 tions, show a very intimate and extensive familiarity 
 with the ancient classics. In his twentieth year he 
 was sent to pursue his studies at Paris, where he 
 attained high distinction. He returned to England 
 in 1 172, being then in his twenty-fifth year, soon 
 after the murder of Thomas a Becket. Four years 
 later an event occurred which may be called the 
 turning-point in his life. The see of St. David's 
 fell vacant by his uncle's death. Giraldus had 
 been meanwhile made Archdeacon of Brecknock, 
 an office in which he displayed unusual zeal in 
 supporting the bishop's authority, and punishing 
 irregularities. It was remembered by the Welsh 
 that St. David's had once been an archbishopric, 
 and they were anxious to restore its metropolitan 
 dignity, and make the Church in Wales once more 
 independent of the see of Canterbury. The 
 chapter fixed their eyes upon Giraldus, as a man 
 whose energy and abilities were likely to advance 
 this cause, and elected him without the king's con- 
 sent. Giraldus himself was alarmed at their 
 
(Etratous ©amfcrenste. 175 
 
 temerity, but the object was as dear to his heart as 
 to that of any Churchman of the principality ; 
 indeed, rather more so ; and though he would have 
 renounced the election as too hasty, he had already 
 drawn upon himself and the chapter the fierce 
 indignation and jealousy of an ever-watchful and 
 politic king. 
 
 The chapter soon were humbled, and made every 
 effort to appease the king's displeasure. The 
 election was cancelled, and Peter de Leia, prior of 
 Wenlock, was chosen in place of Giraldus, who now 
 returned to Paris, and gave himself up to the study 
 of civil and canon law. The martyrdom of Becket 
 had more than ever brought into prominence the 
 old, ever-recurring question of the jurisdiction of 
 Church and State, and Giraldus was full of it. He 
 lectured, according to his own account, to overflow- 
 ing audiences ; and we may well believe him. He 
 was a man full of fervour, and his after life showed 
 that he had the courage of his opinions. But owing 
 to the irregularity with which he received his 
 revenues, he returned to England in 1180. He 
 repaired to his archdeaconry, where his super- 
 abundant zeal brought him naturally into collision 
 with his diocesan, Peter de Leia, a prelate as lax in 
 enforcing needful discipline, as he was indifferent 
 about the claims of St. David's to the primacy of 
 Wales. Giraldus had no toleration for a bishop 
 who would not excommunicate the most notorious 
 offenders, lest he should find the tails of all his 
 cows cut off. "Let him sell his cows," said 
 
176 lEarlg ©JjromckrjS of lEttglant), 
 
 Giraldus, " or remove them to some safer spot, and 
 do that justice which it is his office to do." The 
 poor bishop was soon weary of remonstrances and 
 dropped the reins of government altogether. He 
 absented himself from his diocese, and appointed 
 Giraldus administrator of the see in his place ; but 
 ere long, some differences arising between him and 
 the chapter, he ventured in his absence to sus- 
 pend certain archdeacons and canons ; on which 
 Giraldus immediately threw up his appointment, 
 and, contrary to the principle which he was so 
 anxious to uphold, appealed to the Archbishop of 
 Canterbury against his diocesan. He was success- 
 ful, and the bishop's sentence was reversed. 
 
 In 1 1 84, Giraldus seems to have made a favour- 
 able impression upon the king, who invited him to 
 court, and made him one of his own chaplains. 
 Henry was glad to employ his services in the 
 pacification of Wales ; but for politic reasons he 
 left them poorly rewarded, and Giraldus bitterly 
 complained of the king's ingratitude. The king, 
 however, appointed him preceptor to his youngest 
 son, Prince John, with whom, in 1185, he went into 
 Ireland in the capacity of secretary. The young 
 man was only in his eighteenth year, and had not 
 yet fully developed that base and selfish character 
 which he afterwards left behind him as king ; so 
 that Giraldus had some hopes of him. Still, he 
 tells us that he was prone to vice, rude to monitors, 
 and placed no restraint whatever upon his passions. 
 The best that could be hoped was that, after sowing 
 
CSiraliJuis ©amfaengfe. 177 
 
 his wild oats, he would improve in maturer years ; 
 and Giraldus did entertain this hope most fer- 
 vently. 
 
 This visit of Giraldus to Ireland occasioned the 
 composition of his Topographia Hibemice, the 
 earliest, and perhaps the most attractive of all his 
 works. So, at least, the modern reader will pro- 
 bably regard it, though for some reason it met with 
 an unfavourable reception from many of his con- 
 temporaries. Readers were not in those days 
 students of nature, and the learned seem to have 
 thought it a waste of writing materials to describe 
 the rivers, lakes, and mountains, birds, beasts, 
 and fishes, and the almost equal brutal human 
 inhabitants of a barbarous island, their habits and 
 modes of life. Giraldus, however, who was never 
 deficient in self-confidence, felt sure that his book 
 would live. " He had devoted," he said, at intervals 
 of leisure, three years to his Topography, and two 
 years more to his Vaticinal History of the Conquest 
 of the Island, — "works which," as he quietly 
 observes, "will be read by posterity, although 
 they offend men of the present generation : and 
 though carped at now, will be profitable in future 
 times." 
 
 Giraldus, in truth, had a fine eye for nature, and 
 he was justified in believing that his observations 
 would be found valuable in after ages. The 
 singular thing is that so acute an observer should 
 have laid himself open, as we have seen, to the 
 attacks of his opponents by a credulity on some 
 
 ENG. N 
 
178 3E*tlg> ©IjrontcUrg of lEnglanD. 
 
 points altogether extraordinary ; for though he did 
 not think it necessary to attribute the absence of 
 noxious reptiles in Ireland to the achievements of 
 St. Patrick, there was apparently nothing of the 
 nature of a prodigy reported to him by others to 
 which he was not ready to attach some degree 
 of credit. Out of three " distinctions," or sections, 
 into which the work is divided, the second is entirely 
 devoted to things of this sort ; the common sense 
 of the author is confined to the other two. But the 
 natural history of Ireland, the miracles of Ireland, 
 and the people of Ireland, are the three great sub- 
 jects of the book, and it must be admitted that he 
 does full justice to them all. 
 
 We may, however, observe that superstitions, 
 though by no means a noble subject of contempla- 
 tion, are in themselves a matter of historical study, 
 which we cannot afford altogether to neglect. It 
 is not from the sober, unimaginative historian, that 
 we gain much light as to the real forces that 
 governed the spirits of men in the wars and tumults 
 and rebellions, of which history is full. But the 
 credulous writer is a transparent medium through 
 which we can discern things otherwise invisible. 
 Special incidents, too, which led to no material 
 results in the great drama of events, have occasion- 
 ally a historical significance in this respect by no 
 means to be despised. Take, for example, the 
 following instance from the Vaticinal History of 
 Giraldus. Henry II., on his return from Ireland, 
 landed at St. David's Bay. 
 
ffitrafoug ©amfcrengfe. 
 
 !79 
 
 " On landing he proceeded to St. David's with great de- 
 votion, in the guise of a pilgrim, on foot, and staff in hand, 
 and was met by the canons of the cathedral in solemn pro- 
 cession, who received him with due honour and reverence at 
 the White Gate. While the solemn procession was orderly- 
 passing onward, a Welsh woman suddenly threw herself at 
 the king's feet, and made some complaint against the bishop 
 of the diocese, which was explained to the king by an in- 
 terpreter. Receiving, however, no redress, the woman be- 
 came abusive, and raising her voice, and loudly clapping her 
 hands, she repeatedly shouted, in the presence of all the 
 company, ' Avenge us this day, Lechlawar, avenge our race 
 and nation on this man !' And being stopped and thrust 
 forth by the people of the country who understood British 
 {i.e. Welsh), she still continued to vociferate the same words 
 with increased violence, alluding to a certain prophecy of 
 Merlin's, which, though current among the vulgar, was not 
 authentic, to the purport that a king of England, returning 
 through St. David's after the conquest of Ireland, where he 
 had been wounded by a man with a bloody hand, should die 
 on Lechlawar. For this was the name given to a stone which 
 was placed across the stream, dividing the cemetery of 
 St. David's from the north side of the church, to form a 
 bridge. The stone was of beautiful marble, and the surface 
 was worn smooth by the feet of those who passed over it. 
 Its length was ten feet, its breadth six, and it was one foot 
 thick. In the British (Welsh) language the word Lechlawar 
 means ' the speaking stone ; ' for there is an ancient tradi- 
 tion that on some occasion when a corpse was carried over 
 it the stone spoke at that very moment, but in the effort 
 cracked in the middle, which crack is still to be seen. This 
 gave rise to a barbarous superstition, which from that time 
 to the present day forbids any dead bodies being carried to 
 their burial over the bridge. The king coming to the stone 
 paused for a moment, having, perhaps, heard the prophecy 
 mentioned ; but having glanced keenly at it, he summoned 
 up his resolution, and without further delay, walked across. 
 
iBo 1Earl;D ©j&romcfctg of lEnglanti. 
 
 Then turning back and looking at the stone, he said with 
 some indignation, ' Who now will have any faith in that liar, 
 Merlin? 5 " 
 
 Nothing, perhaps, requires greater intrepidity 
 than boldly and knowingly to confront a popular 
 superstition. It will be observed that Giraldus 
 himself, in this case, though he discredits the 
 prophecy, saves the credit of the supposed prophet 
 Merlin, by the remark that this prophecy was not 
 authentic. In another place where he tells the 
 same story, he adds, that one of the bystanders, in 
 answer to the king's imputation on Merlin's sooth- 
 saying, cried out, " Thou art not that king by whom 
 Ireland is to be conquered, or of whom Merlin pro- 
 phesied ! " Superstition certainly dies hard. 
 
 The Vaticinal History of the Conquest of Ire- 
 land, from which the above extract is taken, was 
 written, as we are informed by the author, two 
 years after the completion of the Topography. 
 The expedition to which it relates was one in which 
 Giraldus naturally took peculiar interest ; for a 
 large number of its captains and leaders were 
 kinsmen of his own. And it must be owned that a 
 more careful, accurate, and graphic history does not 
 exist. The whole story of the conquest is related 
 in the exact order of the events themselves, with a 
 vigour and clearness, and, generally speaking, with 
 a simplicity, that make the work both easy and 
 delightful reading, even at this day. The only 
 exceptions to simplicity consist in classical quota- 
 tions, and long imaginary speeches of Irish and 
 
€5tralDug @am5an#te. iSr 
 
 Norman chieftains, after the manner of Livy and 
 other historians. But to atone for these defects, 
 we have personal portraits of Strongbow, and of 
 almost all the principal leaders on either side, with 
 estimates of their characters which bring the men 
 vividly before us. In no other mediaeval historian, 
 certainly, do we find writing so animated or so 
 picturesque. 
 
 Irish chieftains and Norman barons, however, 
 cannot be expected to interest the general reader, 
 without some detailed account of their actions. As 
 a specimen, therefore, of this style of treatment in 
 Giraldus, we will give his portrait of King Henry II. 
 himself: — 
 
 "Henry II., king of England, had a reddish complexion, 
 rather dark, and a large round head. His eyes were grey, 
 bloodshot, and flashed in anger. He had a fiery counte- 
 nance, his voice was tremulous, and his neck a little bent 
 forward ; but his chest was broad, and his arms were muscular. 
 His body was fleshy, and he had an enormous paunch, rather 
 by the fault of nature than from gross feeding. For his diet 
 was temperate, and indeed in all things, considering he was 
 a prince, he was moderate and even parsimonious. In order 
 to reduce and cure, as far as possible, this natural tendency 
 and defect, he waged a continual war, so to speak, with his 
 own belly, by taking immoderate exercise. For in time of 
 war, in which he was almost always engaged, he took little 
 rest, even during the intervals of business and action. Times 
 of peace were no seasons of repose and indulgence to him, 
 for he was immoderately fond of the chase, and devoted him- 
 self to it with excessive ardour. At the first dawn of day he 
 would mount a fleet horse, and indefatigably spend the day 
 in riding through the woods, penetrating the depths of forests, 
 and crossing the ridges of hills. On his return home in the 
 
3EarIg ©hrcmtclerg of iEnglanD. 
 
 evening he was seldom seen to sit down, either before he took 
 his supper or after ; for notwithstanding his own great 
 fatigue, he would weary all his court by being constantly on 
 his legs. But it is one of the most useful rules in life, not to 
 have too much of any one thing, and even medicine is not 
 in itself perfect and always to be used. Even so it befol the 
 king ; for he had frequent swellings in his legs and feet, in- 
 creased much by his violent exercise on horseback, which 
 added to his other complaints, and if they did not bring on 
 serious disorders, at least hastened that which is the source 
 of all, old age. In stature he may be reckoned among men 
 of moderate height, which was not the case with either of his 
 sons ; the two eldest being somewhat above the middle 
 height, and the two youngest somewhat below. 
 
 " When his mind was undisturbed, and he was not in an 
 angry mood, he spoke with great eloquence, and, what was 
 remarkable in those days, he was well learned. He was also 
 affable, flexible, and facetious, and, however he smothered his 
 inward feelings, second to no one in courtesy. Withal, he 
 was so clement a prince, that when he had subdued his 
 enemies, he was overcome himself by his pity for them. 
 Resolute in war and provident in peace, he so much feared 
 the doubtful fortune of the former, that, as the comic poet 
 writes, he tried all courses before he resorted to arms. Those 
 whom he lost in battle he lamented with more than a prince's 
 sorrow, having a more humane feeling for the soldiers who 
 had fallen than for the survivors ; and bewailing the dead 
 more than he cared for the living. In troublesome times no 
 man was more courteous, and when all things were safe no 
 man more harsh. Severe to the unruly, but clement to the 
 humble ; hard towards his own household, but liberal to 
 strangers : profuse abroad, but sparing at home ; those whom 
 he once hated he would scarcely ever love, and from those 
 he loved he seldom withdrew his regard. He was inordi- 
 nately fond of hawking and hunting, whether his falcons 
 stooped on their prey, or his sagacious hounds, quick of 
 scent and swift of foot, pursued the chase. Would to God 
 
©traltutiS ©amrjrcngtg. 183 
 
 he had been as zealous in his devotions as he was in his 
 sports. 
 
 " It is said that after the grievous dissensions between him 
 and his sons, raised by their mother, he had no respect for 
 the obligations of the most solemn treaties. True it is that 
 from a certain natural inconstancy he often broke his word, 
 preferring rather, when driven to straits, to forfeit his promise 
 than depart from his purpose. In all his doings he was 
 provident and circumspect, and on this account he was some- 
 times slack in the administration of justice, and, to his people's 
 great cost, his decisions in all proceedings were dilatory. 
 Both God and right demand that justice should be ad- 
 ministered gratuitously ; yet all things were set to sale, and 
 brought great wealth both to the clergy and laity ; but their 
 end was like Gehazi's gains. 
 
 " He was a great maker of peace, and kept it himself; a 
 liberal almsgiver, and an especial benefactor to the Holy 
 Land. He loved the humble, curbed the nobility, and trod 
 down the proud ; filling the hungry with good things, and 
 sending the rich empty away ; exalting the meek, and putting 
 down the mighty from their seats. He ventured on many 
 detestable usurpations in things belonging to God, and 
 through a zeal for justice (but not according to knowledge), 
 he joined the rights of the Church to those of the Crown, and 
 therein confused them, in order to centre all in himself. 
 Although he was the son of the Church, and received his 
 crown from her hands, he either dissembled or forgot the 
 sacramental unction. He could scarcely spare an hour to 
 hear mass, and then he was more occupied in counsels and 
 conversation about affairs of state than in his devotions. 
 The revenues of the churches during their avoidance he drew 
 into his own treasury, laying hands on that which belonged 
 to Christ ; and he was always in fresh troubles and engaged 
 in mighty wars, he expended all the money he could get, and 
 lavished upon unrighteous soldiers what was due to the 
 priests. In, his great prudence he devised many plans, which, 
 nowever, did not all turn out according to his expectations ; 
 
1S4 lEarlg ©fironickrg of lEnglanl). 
 
 but no great mishap occurred which did not originate in some 
 trifling circumstance. 
 
 " He was the kindest of fathers to his legitimate children 
 during their childhood and youth, but as they advanced in 
 years looked on them with an evil eye, treating them worse 
 than a step-father ; and although he had such distinguished 
 and illustrious sons, whether it was that he would not have 
 them prosper too fast, or whether they were ill-deserving, he 
 could never bear to think of them as his successors. And as 
 human prosperity can neither be permanent nor perfect, such 
 was the exquisite malice of fortune against this king, that 
 where he should have received comfort he met with opposi- 
 tion ; where security, danger ; where peace, turmoil ; where 
 support, ingratitude ; where quiet and tranquillity, disquiet 
 and disturbance. Whether it happened from unhappy 
 marriages, or for the punishment of the father's sins, there 
 was never any good agreement either of the father with his 
 sons, or of the sons with their parent, or between themselves." 
 
 In no other mediaeval author do we meet with 
 such minute and careful painting of persons and 
 characters as this. 
 
 Prince John returned to England in the winter 
 of the same year in which he went to Ireland. 
 The ill success of his expedition was attributed 
 by Giraldus, not to the character of the commander, 
 but to the cool response of Henry II. to the invi- 
 tation of Heraclius, Patriarch of Jerusalem, to 
 undertake a crusade for the liberation of the Holy 
 City. It was a special honour, he thought, to the 
 King of England to be solicited before any other 
 prince to promote so noble an enterprise ; yet 
 Henry in effect allowed the enemies of Christ to 
 take possession of Jerusalem without raising a 
 
©irate ©amfirengfe. 185 
 
 hand against them. Giraldus, however, for his 
 part, had an opportunity of showing his own zeal 
 a few years later. Meanwhile, he remained in 
 Ireland collecting materials for his work for a few 
 months after Prince John had left, and returned to 
 Wales between Easter and Whitsuntide, 1186. 
 Next year, having completed his Topography of 
 Ireland, he gave a public reading of it before the 
 university of Oxford, on three successive days, 
 each section of the work (called in the scholastic 
 language of the times a " distinction ") occupying 
 a day to read. The reading was crowned each 
 day by a sumptuous entertainment, given at the 
 author's expense, — on the first day, to the poor 
 people of the town, on the second to the most 
 eminent doctors and students, on the third, to the 
 other scholars, knights, and burgesses. Various 
 are the ways by which authors in different ages 
 have climbed to the temple of Fame ; and this was 
 one of the ways seven hundred years ago. 
 
 In 1 188, the king appeared to have repented his 
 lukewarmness as to the fate of Jerusalem, and took 
 the cross at Gisors in Normandy. Many followed 
 his example, and Archbishop Baldwin was sent to 
 preach the Crusade in Wales, accompanied by 
 Ranulph de Glanville the Justiciary, and by Giraldus 
 — a journey as remarkable in its way, and within its 
 own sphere probably far more fruitful in results 
 than any expedition to the Holy Land itself. 
 Giraldus wrote an itinerary of the archbishop's 
 progress. His presence by the side of the metro- 
 
iS6 lEarlg ©Iironkterg of iERglantJ. 
 
 politan was doubtless itself a great means of 
 soothing ancient jealousies ; and though some of 
 the canons of St. David's appealed to Rhys ap 
 Griffith to prevent the archbishop visiting their 
 cathedral, the Welsh prince felt that he could not 
 interrupt a journey undertaken with such an object. 
 The progress began at New Radnor, where, after 
 a sermon by the archbishop, explained to the 
 Welsh by an interpreter, Giraldus himself first took 
 the cross, and was followed in so doing by the 
 Bishop of St. David's and by several Welsh princes 
 and notables. The journey was pursued through 
 Hay and Brecknock, Abergavenny, Usk and 
 Caerleon ; then by the southern districts along the 
 Bristol Channel to Pembroke and St. David's, and 
 from thence northwards through Cardigan, to 
 Carnarvon and Bangor. The Isle of Anglesea was 
 next visited, and the whole of North Wales was after- 
 wards traversed to Chester and Shrewsbury. Such 
 a progress was a thing altogether unprecedented, 
 and must have produced a deep impression. " It 
 requires no effort of imagination," says Mr. Brewer,* 
 "to conjure up the effects which an archbishop in 
 the twelfth century, clothed in the majestic insignia 
 of his high office, attended with the solemn and 
 striking ceremonial belonging to the highest dignity 
 in the hierarchy, fortified with papal bulls and regal 
 authority, would exercise over a simple and half- 
 civilized people, enthusiastic by nature, and re- 
 markable for their subservience to the visible 
 
 * Giraldi Cambrensis Opera, I. pref., p. xlix. 
 
SiraltiUiS @m\lxewi$. 1S7 
 
 emblems of the spiritual power. As the solemn 
 procession wended its way among the retired 
 valleys and romantic mountains of South Wales, 
 now with banner and crucifix emerging from some 
 woody glade or picturesque ravine, now encamping 
 on the bank of some fabled river, or skirting the 
 straggling hamlet, the sermon in the open air from 
 the patriarchal lips of the successor of St. Thomas, 
 the hymn floating and undulating like a cloud of 
 incense, the occasion, the motive, the tender 
 thought of Jerusalem in captivity, of the daughter 
 of Zion insulted by the Saracen, of Christ's living 
 members put to shame ; all these mingling in one 
 stream of pious enthusiasm, ardent faith, glory, 
 passion and adventure, might have roused an 
 imagination more callous and sluggish than that 
 of the Welsh." 
 
 To the little band engaged in the expedition 
 there were, of course, hardships and difficulties to 
 be encountered in so rugged a country ; but the 
 archbishop, who seems to have been a man of 
 considerable humour, made light of them. Having 
 on one occasion worked his way with great diffi- 
 culty through a steep valley and found a temporary 
 resting-place, he sat down upon an oak that had 
 been uprooted in a storm, and while he and all his 
 followers were out of breath with their exertions, 
 asked pleasantly if any one could kindly amuse 
 the company by whistling a tune ? In answer to 
 the general laugh he then bade them listen to the 
 sweet notes that some particular bird was pouring 
 
isarlg CDftronkleriS of lEnglanti. 
 
 forth in a wood close by. A little conversation 
 then arose about the melody of birds in which 
 some one remarked that the nightingale was never 
 heard in Wales. " The nightingale," remarked the 
 archbishop, " followed wise counsel and never came 
 into Wales. We, who have penetrated and gone 
 through it, have not been so well advised." It is 
 worth pages of more solid matter to learn from 
 these light touches of Giraldus how an archbishop 
 preaching a crusade could indulge his wit in 
 moments of relaxation. It was the innocent 
 humour of a very upright and earnest man of 
 whom Giraldus at the end of his work draws a very 
 pleasing and admirable portrait. 
 
 The Itinerary of Wales is discursive, and abounds 
 in matter similar in character to that of the 
 Topography of Ireland. Occasionally, indeed, the 
 author repeats what he has said in the previous 
 work, as in his remarkable and very accurate 
 description of the salmon's mode of leaping. In 
 another place, also, he gives a very interesting 
 account of the beaver, an animal which even at 
 that date had become rare in Wales, though it 
 still frequented the valley of the Teivy. Of 
 prodigies and miracles, too, the Itinerary contains 
 abundance, and some of such a transparent 
 character that the author's credulity becomes the 
 more amazing. Thus we are gravely told about a 
 stone in Anglesea resembling a human thigh, 
 which, when carried away from its place to what- 
 ever distance, always returned in the night-time of 
 
ffihraHiug ©amirengfe. 189 
 
 its own accord. But apparently the last time its 
 peculiar virtue had been tried was in the reign of 
 Henry I., when Hugh, Earl of Chester, having 
 gained possession of the island, ordered the stone 
 to be fastened with strong iron chains to a larger 
 stone and thrown into the sea. Next morning, of 
 course, so ran the legend, it was found in its 
 original position. " On which account," says 
 Giraldus, "the earl issued a public edict that no 
 one, from that time, should presume to move the 
 stone from its place." A singularly unnecessary 
 decree if the legend had been a true one ! 
 
 The Itinerary contains also many graphic touches 
 and incidental anecdotes, some of which have been 
 turned to good account by historians and romancers, 
 as the reader will doubtless remember in the fol- 
 lowing instance : — 
 
 " I have judged it proper to insert in this place an answer 
 which Richard, king of the English, made to Fulke, a good 
 and holy man, by whom God in these our days has wrought 
 many signs in the kingdom of France. This man had among 
 other things said to the king : ' You have three daughters, 
 namely, Pride, Luxury, and Avarice ; and as long as they 
 shall remain with you, you can never expect to be in favour 
 with God.' .To which the king, after a short pause, replied : 
 ' I have already given away those daughters in marriage : 
 Pride to the Templars, Luxury to the Black Monks, and 
 Avarice to the White.' " 
 
 In 1 1 89, to further the Crusade, Giraldus went 
 over with Henry II. into France, where the war 
 broke out between the king and his sons, and 
 Henry himself died broken-hearted the same year. 
 
igo "iSarljj ©frronickrg of lEnglant). 
 
 Richard I., succeeding, sent Giraldus back to Wales 
 to prevent disturbances arising from the change. 
 He was now less enthusiastic for the Crusade, and 
 obtained from the papal legate dispensations both 
 for himself and for the Bishop of St. David's to 
 stay at home. He was now rising in favour, and 
 within a few years was offered successively the 
 bishoprics of Bangor and Llandaff, both of which 
 he declined. No Welsh bishopric, except St. 
 David's, could tempt him to abandon literary 
 pursuits, to which he seems now to have been 
 more devoted than ever. In 1 192, he was on the 
 point of revisiting Paris when the war broke out 
 between Richard Cceur de Lion and Philip 
 Augustus, and compelled him to remain at home. 
 He took up his abode at Lincoln, renowned in 
 those days for its school of theology, and remained 
 there till the death of his old rival, Peter de Leia, 
 left the bishopric of St. David's once more vacant. 
 The object of his old ambition was now offered him 
 by the chapter without solicitation on his part. 
 But some adverse influence again crossed his path. 
 Hubert Walter, Archbishop of Canterbury, refused 
 to accept his nomination, and resolved that no 
 Welshman should be appointed. A weary con- 
 troversy arose, in which Giraldus three times 
 visited Rome to procure from Innocent III. a 
 recognition of the rights of the see of St. David's. 
 But in the end his election was set aside, as well 
 as that of a rival who had been uncanonically 
 elected in his place ; and the bishopric was finally 
 
Jiorrtjcrtt f^igtorfang. 
 
 conferred on a third person, not more favourable to 
 the independence of the see than Peter de Leia 
 had been. Giraldus was disgusted, but appealed 
 no more. He lived to see the bishopric again 
 vacant, and again offered to him in 1215 ; but he 
 had now learned wisdom by experience and refused 
 positively to accept it. He is supposed to have 
 died in 1223. 
 
 And now, taking leave of our Welsh friends 
 Geoffrey and Giraldus, we must devote a brief 
 space to another school of historians. No contrast 
 could well be greater than that between the writers 
 we have just been describing and those of the north 
 of England. We change at once from imagination 
 to realism, from amusing bombast, simple-minded 
 credulity and picturesque descriptions to the most 
 sober, the most accurate, and often the most prosaic 
 of mediaeval chronicles. In drawing attention to 
 their writings here, we do not purpose to treat of 
 them at a length at all proportionate to their real 
 importance. But it would be impossible to pass 
 over in silence the works of some of the most 
 weighty of our early historians ; and a very few 
 words may be enough to make them known to the 
 general reader. 
 
 It was in the north of England that monasticism' 
 from the first had taken the strongest hold. It is 
 in the north that we first meet with evidences of 
 native genius and a real native literature. The 
 foundation of Whitby Abbey by St. Hilda un- 
 sealed the lips of the poet Caedmon, and taught 
 
192 lEarlg ©fjromckrg of lEnglanfc. 
 
 him to pour out the story of Creation in Anglo- 
 Saxon verse. The two monasteries founded near 
 Durham by Benedict Biscop, were the school of 
 the Venerable Bede, and the teaching of Bede 
 himself must have done much to educate a new 
 race of thinkers and writers. At York, too, under 
 Archbishop Albert, in the middle of the eighth 
 century, was a great school of learning, from which 
 emanated the illustrious scholar, Alcuin, who turned 
 the court of Charlemagne into a university. No- 
 where in those early times was education more 
 advanced, nowhere was thought so active, as in the 
 north of England. 
 
 From the days of Bede a long succession of 
 chroniclers endeavoured, at however great a dis- 
 tance, to follow in his footsteps, and to continue 
 the annals of Northumbria from the date at which 
 he left off. Soon after the Conquest the inmates 
 of his old monastery at Jarrow removed to Durham ; 
 and Simeon of Durham, one of those who migrated 
 from the older establishment, carried down the 
 history to the year 1 1 29. The work, however, that 
 bears his name, though printed as one, is really 
 two separate treatises, and it is evident that the 
 earlier fragment was the production of earlier 
 writers in the north of England. Mr. Stubbs is 
 inclined to think that Alcuin may have had some 
 hand in it. The work of Simeon himself has 
 always stood in very high repute, and various 
 continuations were written to it in early times. 
 One separate line of continuators, all belonging to 
 
ilortStttt l^tetortanst. 193 
 
 the same monastery, brought it down even to the 
 days of the Reformation.* But it must be owned 
 that these give merely the dry bones of the history 
 of their own cathedral and of the bishops who ruled 
 there. Another and a more interesting continua- 
 tion was written in the monastery of Hexham by 
 John of Hexham, as he is called, the prior of that 
 house, who brought the narrative down to 11 54. 
 He, however, was preceded, as a historian, by Prior 
 Richard of the same monastery, who wrote a very 
 valuable history of the acts of King Stephen, 
 ending with an account of the Battle of the 
 Standard. Another account of that battle was 
 written by Ailred, abbot of the Cistercian monas- 
 tery of Rievaulx, in Yorkshire, who was led to un- 
 dertake the task out of regard for the founder of his 
 monastery, Sir Walter d'Espec. This is not by 
 any means such an important work as the other, 
 much space being taken up by speeches of the 
 different leaders before the battle, and especially 
 of Sir Walter d'Espec, who was one of those who 
 fought there. 
 
 A little later we have the Chronicle of Holyrood, 
 mainly devoted to Scotch affairs, and after it the 
 History of William of Newburgh, one of the best 
 original authorities for the reign of Henry II. This 
 writer, to whom we have already made reference as 
 the severe censor of the fictions of Geoffrey of 
 Monmouth, was a native of Bridlington, born in the 
 
 * See Histories Dunelmenis Scriptores Tres, published by the 
 Surtees Society. 
 
 ENG. O 
 
194 SEarlj) ©frroiutlerg of lEnglanfc, 
 
 year 1 1 36, and was known to his contemporaries as 
 William Petit or Parvus ; but he became an Austin 
 canon of the abbey of Newburgh, in Yorkshire, in 
 which he received his education. His history, 
 though commencing with the Conquest, may really 
 be considered contemporary, as the events prior to 
 the reign of Stephen are compressed into less than 
 a dozen pages. It is written in a very clear and 
 interesting style, after the model of Bede, and 
 generally with great judgment and common sense. 
 Roger of Hoveden (that is, of Howden, in York- 
 shire) set himself to the task of continuing Bede's 
 History down to his own day, with the aid of 
 several former compilations. He divided his 
 labours into two parts — a Pars Prior extending 
 to the death of King Stephen ; and a Pars 
 Posterior, from the accession of Henry II. to the 
 year 1201. Of Pars Prior, almost all except the 
 last seven years is borrowed from Simeon of 
 Durham, and Henry of Huntingdon ; and through- 
 out a considerable part of Pars Posterior he 
 either followed or worked in common with Benedict 
 of Peterborough, who has left us a chronicle of his 
 own ; so that how far he is an original author is 
 uncertain. But he is mentioned by Benedict 
 himself as one of King Henry's clerks, whom he 
 sent over from Poitou in 11 74, to persuade some 
 turbulent chieftains in Galloway, to become subjects 
 of the English crown. From this it is evident that 
 he enjoyed the confidence of a very able king on 
 political matters ; and the fact is quite in accord- 
 
Motti)txn f^tetotfang. 195 
 
 ance with the character of his history, which 
 though it professes to be merely annals, is alto- 
 gether unlike the bald chronicles left by many 
 other writers. It is, in fact, a very able political 
 survey of the reigns of Henry II. and Richard I., 
 including the commencement of King John's reign, 
 full of information, not only about the affairs of 
 England, but about those of France, and of 
 Flanders, of Germany, Italy, and almost every 
 other European country. 
 
 The Chronicle of Melrose is a compilation from 
 the northern writers who succeeded Bede, to the 
 beginning of the thirteenth century, but is continued 
 as an original narrative, relating to the affairs of 
 England and Scotland, as far as the year 1270, 
 when the only manuscript breaks off abruptly in 
 relating the attempt of a Saracen to assassinate 
 Prince Edward in the Holy Land. The informa- 
 tion contained in this chronicle gives it a very high 
 value to historians; but it is neither a philosophical 
 history nor in itself a very entertaining record of the 
 events it relates. 
 
 Walter Hemingburgh, a canon of the priory of 
 Gisborough in Yorkshire, wrote also a history com- 
 mencing with the Conquest, which he carried down 
 at first to the days of Edward I. He then added 
 a continuation into the reign of Edward II. ; " but 
 whether the latter part of this be lost," says his 
 editor, Mr. Hamilton, " or was never written has 
 not been ascertained. The History of Edward III. 
 seems to have been composed as information of 
 
196 lEarlg ©SronWctg of 1Englatit>. 
 
 passing events was procured ; and the abrupt, 
 termination of the work with a rubric of a new 
 section, De Bello inter Reges Anglics et Fr amice 
 apud Cressy Commisso, must be regarded either as 
 indicating that the health of the writer at this 
 period was such as to forbid further literary exer- 
 tion, or that he deceased while waiting for more 
 perfect information of the famous battle he intended 
 to record." 
 
 As an original authority on the reigns of the 
 three Edwards, Hemingburgh has always been 
 esteemed of the highest value. He is a writer of 
 clear judgment, and cultivated taste, whose accuracy 
 of statement is only equalled by the elegance of his 
 style. In the course of his narrative he quotes a 
 number of documents of high importance, such as 
 Edward I.'s confirmation of the Great Charter, and 
 the document commonly known as the statute de 
 tallagio 11011 concedendo. He also quotes at full 
 length a large number of original letters, especially 
 in the reign of Edward III., in which the text is 
 little more than a collection of what we might call 
 State papers, connected together by a slender 
 thread of historical explanatory narrative. 
 
 The Chronicle of Lanercost, which ends in the 
 same year as Hemingburgh, appears to have received 
 its name from a misapprehension as to the place 
 where it was compiled. It had long been known 
 as a very valuable record of Border history, but it 
 remained in manuscript till the year 1839, when it 
 was edited by Mr. Stevenson for the Bannatyne 
 
i&ortijent ^tetoriang. 197 
 
 and Maitland Clubs. Some of the passages, in 
 which the writer refers to the priory of Lanercost, in 
 Cumberland, are such as might easily have deceived 
 a cursory reader; but Mr. Stevenson has very 
 clearly shown that they by no means bear out the 
 theory that the work was composed in that priory, 
 while there is evidence scattered up and down the 
 whole chronicle tending to show that the writer 
 was a Minorite friar, most probably belonging to 
 the convent of Carlisle. He seems, however, to 
 have been at Berwick in the year 13 12, when he 
 saw and described the wonderful rope ladders by 
 which Bruce and his comrades almost succeeded in 
 scaling the walls of the castle, the attempt being 
 only defeated by the barking of a dog. The friars, 
 from their wandering habits, were great go-betweens 
 in time of war, and our author, although entirely 
 English in his sympathies, obtained a good deal of 
 information from the brethren of his own order in 
 Scotland. The immunities of the friars, however, 
 were sometimes found troublesome, and in 1333, 
 we find Edward III. commanding that all the 
 Scotch friars in the convent at Berwick should 
 leave the town, and that English friars should take 
 their places. It is rather amusing to read that, 
 when, in consequence of this order, two English 
 friars carne to the convent, some of their Scotch 
 brethren while preparing to depart entertained the 
 newcomers with much interesting conversation at 
 dinner time, while others, breaking into the library, 
 packed up all the books, chalices, and vestments, 
 
1 98 3sar(g Chroniclers of lEnglanD. 
 
 tied them up in silk cloths, and carried them off, 
 saying that they were articles lent by Patrick, Earl 
 of March, who at that time had just come over to 
 the English side. On the whole, the Chronicle of 
 Lanercost is one of the most interesting of these 
 northern records. 
 
i£te*3JKSi 
 
 ^asg*5JE<aKa«aKflg^El^^g^ 
 
 tte^mz&tzgjsz&z&szss&mz&r&sz&z 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 RECORDS OF THE FRIARS. 
 
 Actual results of the Crusades injurious to Christian faith and 
 morals — St. Dominic and the Preaching Friars — The Albigenses 
 ■ — St. Francis — The Eastern leprosy — Devotion of the Francis- 
 cans — Thomas of Eccleston's account of their settlement in 
 England — Anecdotes— Aquinas and the Schoolmen — Trivet's 
 Annales — Stubbs's Archbishops of York — Franciscan Schoolmen 
 — Roger Bacon, Scotus, Occam. 
 
 To many of those who are familiar with mediaeval 
 chronicles the title prefixed to this chapter may- 
 seem a strange one. The direct contributions of 
 the friars to historical literature are certainly few 
 in number, and so slender in amount as to seem 
 quite unworthy of notice beside the copious and 
 abundant supplies of the monastic chronicles. 
 Indeed, when one considers the amazing intellectual 
 activity of the men of whom we are now to speak, 
 their unproductiveness in the field of history is all 
 the more remarkable, and it might well seem that 
 in a work such as the present, it was hardly neces- 
 sary to make any special allusion to their labours 
 at all. But this would be to take a very contracted 
 
lEarlg ©ijrontckrij of lEnglanD. 
 
 view of a great subject. The historical literature of 
 a country is not a thing to be studied entirely by 
 itself; nor can the spirit of English chronicles be 
 appreciated without reference to the labours of 
 some who are not generally called by the name of 
 chroniclers. More particularly in studying an age 
 of great social revolution, when the fountains of 
 the great deep were broken up, is it necessary to 
 turn aside from the pages of the regular historian, 
 and systematic compiler of annals, to learn what 
 thoughts possessed the minds of the most pro- 
 found among the thinkers, and the most energetic 
 among the doers of the day. For this reason it is 
 that we must again call attention to the introduc- 
 tion of new religious orders, and bestow a few 
 words, however brief, upon the writings of the 
 friars and the schoolmen. 
 
 The Crusades had left their mark upon the 
 world —indeed a good many marks ; but no such 
 mark as their authors had intended. The Holy 
 Land had not been recovered from the Infidels; the 
 Saracens had not been converted. It had been 
 found practically impossible for Christians to treat 
 the Moslem in the way the children of Israel were 
 taught to treat the Canaanites — as men with whom 
 no peace was to be made. The Christians of that 
 day adopted too easily a very different principle 
 and regarded their enemies for some time as men 
 with whom no faith was to be kept. But even this 
 was a rule impossible to be maintained. Relations 
 necessarily grew up between the opposing com- 
 
lEffectg of tije ©ruga&eg. 201 
 
 batants ; and ere long the commercial cities of the 
 Mediterranean found the Infidel a very good cus- 
 tomer. The Crusades had opened up new channels 
 of commerce ; and with the material luxuries of 
 the East came also its intellectual wares, its vices, 
 and its horrible diseases. 
 
 Instead of the Christians converting the Moslem 
 it seemed rather that the faith of Christendom 
 itself was being undermined by Pagan, philosophy 
 and libertinism. While the Saracens still held the 
 Holy Land, the Moors still kept possession of 
 Spain. The science of the Arabians had gained 
 great influence at the universities, and freethinkers 
 were disposed to bow to the intellectual supremacy 
 of Islam. Manichean tendencies asserted them- 
 selves all over Europe — in the doctrines of the 
 Albigenses — in the open profligacy and epicurean- 
 ism of Frederick II. — in the secret practices im- 
 puted to the Templars. The Church itself was 
 grossly corrupt ; the law of priestly celibacy had 
 made things even worse. The priesthood were 
 thereby cut off from the social relations and every- 
 day life of the community, while the superior 
 sanctity attributed to their order only led to grosser 
 demoralisation. "It is no longer true," said St. 
 Bernard, " that the priests are as bad as the people ; 
 for the priests are worse than the people." In such 
 a state of matters, new agencies were absolutely 
 needed to cope with the spiritual, moral, and physi- 
 cal diseases of the times. 
 
 For the spiritual evils, the Spaniard, St. Dominic, 
 
202 HEarlg ©ftromclcriS of Isnglant). 
 
 believed the means of counteracting them was by 
 the establishment of a trained society of preachers. 
 He himself had the gift of eloquence in no common 
 measure, and had already distinguished himself 
 as a theologian at the universities of his native 
 country, when he left Spain to accompany the 
 bishop of Osma, his diocesan, whom Alfonso IX., 
 of Castile, had sent on a diplomatic mission to the 
 south of France. That mission accomplished, the 
 bishop and he obtained leave of the Pope to take 
 part in certain efforts which were then being made 
 for the conversion of the Albigenses. His energy 
 in this vocation soon became conspicuous and led 
 to the institution of the order of Preaching Friars 
 commonly called after him Dominicans. At first 
 they were only new communities of the Canons 
 Regular of St. Augustine; for the institution of 
 new orders was not looked upon with favour ; but 
 in the end their rule was confirmed by a bull of 
 Honorius III., in 1216, which conferred on them the 
 distinctive name of Fratres Prcedicantes. They 
 were popularly known in England as the Black 
 Friars. 
 
 Unhappily, mere preaching did not suffice to 
 convert the heretics, and St. Dominic obtained 
 papal authority to hold courts which formed an evil 
 precedent for the Inquisition of after days. Sus- 
 pected heretics were called before these tribunals 
 and questioned as to their belief. The object may 
 have been to reason with and convince the un- 
 learned ; the effect was only to confound them with 
 
©fje ^readjmg iFrtarg. 203 
 
 the subtleties of the schools. But the obstinate 
 were punished, even with the punishment of death. 
 This naturally did not tend to peace. Sharp 
 disputes arose, and a papal legate who had rebuked 
 to his face Count Raymond of Toulouse, was 
 murdered by one of the count's dependants, — not 
 indeed in cold blood, like Becket, but in an angry 
 altercation arising out of his former boldness. Still, 
 a papal envoy had died a martyr's death, and a 
 crusade was proclaimed by the Pope against the 
 unhappy heretics. Dominic himself, who had at 
 first been solicitous rather to persuade than to 
 persecute, was its principal instigator. Simon de 
 Montfort was the leader of the expedition ; and 
 after a war of ruthless indiscriminate slaughter the 
 unhappy Albigenses were in the end exterminated. 
 But though preaching to avowed heretics had 
 thus failed in its intended effect, the order of the 
 Preaching Friars became popular elsewhere. Their 
 oratory was attractive, and they had an abode in 
 every considerable town. Unlike the monks, whose 
 ordinary life was spent within the cloister, or the 
 clergy whose ordinary duties were discharged in 
 church, these men were continually abroad among 
 the people, preaching to them the duty of adhering 
 to the Church, and warning them against heresy 
 and schism. It added weight, moreover, to their 
 exhortations that in order to qualify themselves for 
 their mission, they had, in accordance with St. 
 Dominic's injunctions, to renounce all private 
 property, and depend for their subsistence upon 
 
204 lEarlg ©ijronlclettf of lEnglatxti. 
 
 charity. Their dwelling-house and church might 
 be sumptuous buildings ; but the friars themselves 
 were to share in the poverty, the toil, and the labour 
 of the classes to whom they principally addressed 
 themselves. 
 
 But the popularity of the Dominicans, especially 
 in England, was greatly exceeded by that of the 
 Franciscan order. 
 
 St. Dominic had addressed himself too exclu- 
 sively to the spiritual evils of the time. St. Francis, 
 a layman, set himself rather to the relief of its 
 physical ailments. His thoughts, like those of 
 other men, had been at one time directed towards 
 the Saracens, but he found work far more urgent 
 and pressing to be done among the neglected 
 population of the towns. Born at Assisi, in central 
 Italy, he had been brought up as factor for his 
 father, a wealthy merchant, and he had learned 
 through his commercial occupations the real wants 
 and miseries of the age. " He had to strip Christi- 
 anity, in the first instance," says Mr. Brewer, " of 
 the regal robe in which popes and prelates had 
 invested it ; to preach it as the gospel of the poor 
 and the oppressed. It was not to be a trap for 
 men's obedience ; it was not to demand a surrender 
 of that independence which the commons of the 
 towns had guarded so jealously, and purchased at 
 such costly sacrifices. He caught the poorest in 
 their poverty ; the subtle in their subtlety ; sending 
 among them preachers as ill-clad and as ill-fed, 
 but as deep thinkers in all respects as themselves. 
 
&t. jFrancfe. 205 
 
 . . . His followers are to visit the towns two and 
 two, in just so much clothing as the commonest 
 mendicant could purchase. They are to sleep at 
 nights under arches, or in the porches of desolate 
 and deserted churches, among idiots, lepers, and 
 outcasts ; to beg their bread from door to door ; to 
 set an example of piety and submission." 
 
 It is difficult to realise the condition of the towns 
 in those days. They were behind the country in 
 civilization. Monasteries afforded to the rural 
 population the means of education and supplied 
 their spiritual wants ; but the towns possessed no 
 such advantages. Least of all did the inhabitants 
 of the low and fetid suburbs, where the last 
 refugees from feudal tyranny took up their abode, 
 — least of all did these dregs of city life, packed 
 together in narrow lanes close upon the town ditch, 
 know anything of the humanities, or experience 
 any of the Christian charity of the times. It was 
 in these quarters that plague and pestilence com- 
 mitted the most fearful ravages. In these quarters 
 the Eastern leprosy took up its abode. 
 
 This loathsome and horrible disease completely 
 baffled the medical skill of the time. No method 
 was known by which to mitigate the scourge or 
 restore the afflicted man to health ; only, for the 
 sake of the community at large he must be turned 
 out of house and home and cut off from social 
 intercourse. St. Francis was the first who did 
 anything to relieve the lot of these miserable out- 
 casts ; but what a struggle with nature it required 
 
206 lEarlg ©Droniclerg of lEnglanfc. 
 
 in any one to attempt the task we may learn from 
 his words alone. " When I was in the bondage of 
 sin," he wrote, " it was bitter and loathsome to me 
 to see and look upon persons infected with leprosy ; 
 but that blessed Lord brought me among them, 
 and I did mercy with them, and I departing from 
 them, what before seemed bitter and loathsome 
 was turned and changed to me into great sweet- 
 ness and comfort both of body and soul." 
 
 In the Mirror of his Life {Speculum Vitce), com- 
 posed by some of his companions, we see how 
 deliberately he set himself to overcome this loath- 
 ing. On one occasion he fears he has given way 
 to it in such a manner as to hurt the feelings^ of 
 one of the unhappy sufferers. " Therefore," we are 
 told, " wishing to make satisfaction to God and the 
 leper, he confessed his guilt to Peter Cataneus, the 
 minister general, and begged him to confirm the 
 penance that he intended to impose upon himself. 
 Then, said St. Francis, this is my penance ; to eat 
 out of the same dish with this Christian brother. 
 When all were seated at table a single dish was 
 placed between St. Francis and the leper. He 
 was a leper all over, disgusting for his open ulcers, 
 especially as his fingers were covered with sores 
 and blood, insomuch that as he dipped his fingers 
 in the dish and carried the morsels to his mouth, 
 the gore and blood dropped into the dish. As the 
 friars looked on they were greatly grieved and 
 pained at the sight. But for the reverence they 
 bore him, not one dared utter a word. He that 
 
j&t. jFraitcfe. 207 
 
 saw these things bore record of them and wrote 
 them." 
 
 A still finer triumph of his Christian fortitude 
 and humility is recorded in the same work as 
 follows : — 
 
 " He appointed that the friars of his order, dispersed in 
 various parts of the world, should, for the love of Christ, 
 diligently attend the lepers wherever they could be found. 
 They followed this injunction with the greatest promptitude. 
 Now, there was in a certain place a leper so impatient, fro- 
 ward, and impious, that every one thought he was possessed 
 by an evil spirit. He abused all that served him with terrible 
 oaths and imprecations, often proceeding to blows. What 
 was still more fearful, he uttered the direst blasphemy against 
 Christ and His holy Mother, and the holy angels. The 
 friars endured this ill-usage patiently, but they could not 
 tolerate his blasphemies ; they felt they ought not, and there- 
 fore they resolved to abandon the leper to his fate, having 
 first taken counsel with St. Francis. Brother Francis visited 
 the leper, and upon entering the room said to him, in the 
 usual salutation : 'The Lord give thee peace, brother.' 
 'What peace,' exclaimed the leper, 'can I have, who am 
 entirely diseased ? ' ' Pains that torment the body,' replied 
 St. Francis, 'turn to the salvation of the soul if they are 
 borne patiently.' ' And how can I endure patiently,' rejoins 
 the leper, ' since my pains are without intermission night and 
 day ? Besides, my sufferings are increased by the vexation 
 I endure from the friars you have appointed to wait upon 
 me. There is not one of them who serves me as he ought.' 
 St. Francis perceived that the man was troubled by a malig- 
 nant spirit, and went away and prayed to God for him. 
 Then returning he said, ' Since others do not satisfy you, let 
 me try.' ' You may, if you like ; but what can you do more 
 than others ? ' 'I am ready to do whatever you please,' 
 replied St Francis. 'Then wash me,' replied the leper, 
 
208 ISaicla ©Ijronfrkrg of lEnglant). 
 
 ' because I cannot endure myself. The stink of my wounds 
 is intolerable.' Then St. Francis ordered water to be 
 warmed with sweet herbs, and, stripping the leper, began to 
 wash him with his own hands, whilst a friar standing by 
 poured water upon him." 
 
 Such were the duties that St. Francis undertook 
 himself and enjoined upon his followers. How 
 hard it seemed to comply with the severity of such 
 a rule we can well imagine. When he first appeared 
 before the Pope with a copy of the regulations 
 which he proposed to lay down, they seemed so 
 utterly repulsive and impracticable as only to excite 
 contempt. The reception he met with on this 
 occasion is recorded as follows by Roger of Wend- 
 over, a monk of St. Alban's, who was contemporary 
 with St. Francis himself : — 
 
 " The Pope gazed fixedly on the ill-favoured mien of the 
 aforesaid brother, his mournful countenance, lengthened 
 beard, his untrimmed hair, and his dirty, overhanging brow ; 
 and when he heard his petition read, which it was so difficult 
 and impracticable to carry out, despised him and said, ' Go, 
 brother, go to the pigs, to whom you are more fit to be com- 
 pared than to men, and roll with them, and to them preach 
 the rules you have so ably set forth.' Francis, on hearing 
 this, bowed his head and went away ; and having found 
 some pigs he rolled with them in the mud till he had covered 
 his body and clothes with dirt from head to foot ; he then, 
 returning to the consistory, showed himself to the Pope and 
 said, ; My lord, I have done as you ordered me ; grant me 
 now, I beseech you, my petition.' The Pope was astonished 
 when he saw what he had done, and felt sorry for having 
 treated him with contempt, at the same time giving orders 
 that he should wash himself and come back to him again. 
 
*&& dftanctgcan jFtiarg. 209 
 
 He therefore cleansed himself from his dirt, and returned 
 directly to the Pope. The Pope, being much moved, then 
 granted his petition, and, after confirming his office of preach- 
 ing as well as the order he applied for, by a privilege from 
 the Church of Rome, he dismissed him with a blessing." 
 
 Only by such indomitable perseverance could 
 St. Francis have attained his end. Willing to 
 undergo everything in a great cause himself, he 
 infused a like spirit into his followers. Attendance 
 upon lepers was required of all who joined his order. 
 The self-sacrifice involved was the more striking 
 because the new missionaries were not selected 
 from the lower ranks of society, but from the well- 
 educated and refined. A sound body and a good 
 understanding, with some amount of learning, were 
 insisted on as indispensable requisites for admis- 
 sion ; a bastard, a bondman, and a man in debt 
 were equally ineligible. Yet, whatever property a 
 man had he must absolutely renounce in order to 
 be a disciple of St. Francis. Henceforth he was 
 to possess nothing in the world but the coarse robe 
 and mantle about him, and, in some cases, shoes. 
 For his support, he was to beg his bread from door 
 to door. In this rigid poverty not even books were 
 allowed — not even a psalter or a breviary to aid 
 his devotions. And so strictly was the rule ob- 
 served that Roger Bacon, in the succeeding age, 
 told the Pope he could not put the results of his 
 researches in writing without a special dispensation 
 from his Holiness to allow him ink and parchment. 
 Debarred thus from literature and literary pur- 
 ENG. P 
 
210 lEarlg Chroniclers of iEnglanti. 
 
 suits, the Franciscan set himself more devotedly to 
 the work of tending the sick. This practical duty, 
 however, gave a new turn to thought, and led him 
 to study the remedial powers of nature. The very 
 casting aside of books, and, with books, of the 
 subtleties of philosophy and logic as studied at the 
 universities, threw him on the teaching of nature 
 itself and caused him to examine experimentally 
 the healing qualities of the different kinds of herbs. 
 Systematic researches paved the way for true 
 physical science ; physical studies paved the way 
 for metaphysical, and the very men who had begun 
 by renouncing the learning of the age became 
 themselves the greatest promoters of learning. 
 From their ranks arose the great schoolmen and 
 the philosophers of the succeeding age. 
 
 In thus briefly tracing the origin and history of 
 the Franciscans, we have merely followed and con- 
 densed what has been far more ably written of 
 them by the Rev. J. S. Brewer, in the preface to his 
 valuable collection of documents relating to the 
 order, entitled Monumenta Franciscana. We shall 
 now be indebted to the body of the same work 
 for a few pictures of these friars, and how they 
 lived at the time of their first settlement in this 
 country. First among the contents of the book is 
 a treatise by Thomas of Eccleston, " on the coming 
 of the Minorites into England," a very simple, 
 unadorned narrative of the history of that settle- 
 ment. The Franciscan order, it should be men- 
 tioned, were at first called Friars Minors, or 
 
®5c J^ancigcan dFtiarg. 
 
 Minorites, a name that was intended to impress 
 upon them the duties of humility, and to show the 
 essential character of their vocation. They were 
 to be the " Lesser Brethren " of all whom it was in 
 their power to benefit. In after times, however, 
 they were more commonly called after their 
 founder, Franciscans, and in England, from the 
 colour of their habit they were commonly known 
 as the Grey Friars, just as the Dominicans were 
 known as the Black. 
 
 Thomas of Eccleston would seem to have been 
 one of the second generation of English Grey Friars, 
 who had known and had much intercourse with 
 the original members of the order. He tells us 
 that he had been induced by the marvellous things 
 related of other orders to collect the accounts which 
 his fosterfathers and brethren among the Francis- 
 cans had related to him of his own during a period 
 of five and twenty years. His work is divided into 
 fourteen chapters, of which the first is the account 
 of the first arrival of Friars Minors in England in 
 1224, the same year that the rule of their founder 
 St. Francis was confirmed by Pope Honorius III. 
 In that year four clerks and five lay brethren of the 
 order landed at Dover on Tuesday, 10th Septem- 
 ber. Their names and some little personal descrip- 
 tion of each are given in the narrative. Their 
 superior was Brother Agnellus of Pisa, whom St. 
 Francis himself had appointed to be provincial 
 minister in England. The other three clerks were 
 Englishmen born, the third, by name William de 
 
2i2 lEarlg ©Sromclerg of lEnglanD. 
 
 Esseby, being still a novice and young in years. 
 Of him it is related, as an example of the obedient 
 spirit so strongly inculcated among the brethren, 
 that being asked by the provincial minister of 
 France if he wished to go into England, he replied 
 that he did not know ; and when the minister was 
 surprised at this answer, he explained to him that 
 the reason he did not know was because his will 
 was not his own ; whatever the English provincial 
 determined about it, he himself would wish. He 
 was a man of remarkable gentleness and suavity, 
 who, says the author, " led into the way of salvation 
 many fitting persons of various ranks, ages, and 
 conditions ; and he proved to the eyes of many 
 that the blessed Jesus knew how to do wonders 
 and by locusts to conquer giants." * 
 
 The brethren were taken across the Channel for 
 charity by the monks of Fecamp, in Normandy. 
 On reaching Canterbury they were entertained two 
 days by the monks at the priory of Holy Trinity ; 
 and then four went on to London, while the five 
 others turned to the priests' hospital and remained 
 there till they had provided a place for themselves. 
 
 " A small chamber in a school-house was granted to them, 
 where they sat, as it were, shut up from day to day. But 
 when the scholars returned home in the evening they entered 
 the house in which they sat, and there made themselves a 
 fire and sat about it ; and sometimes when they were going 
 to have a little supper, they set upon the fire a little pot with 
 
 * An allusion to Numbers xiii. 33. The locuste of the Vulgate are 
 "grasshoppers" in our version. 
 
, ®!)e dPtanctecan Jttarg. 213 
 
 the dregs of beer, and put a dish upon the pot and drank all 
 round ; and they each said some word of edification. And 
 by the testimony of one who was a partaker of this simple 
 fare, and made himself the companion and sharer of their 
 poverty, the beer was at times so thick that when the dishes 
 were to be heated they poured in water, and so drank with 
 joy. The like also happened frequently at Salisbury, where 
 the brethren at supper time drank mere dregs about the 
 kitchen fire with so much joy and hilarity that any one 
 esteemed himself happy who succeeded in snatching them 
 from another in a friendly fashion." 
 
 The strictness with which they followed the rule 
 of poverty in those days was such that they would 
 scarcely contract a debt even for their extreme 
 necessities. When Brother Agnellus, the provincial 
 minister of the order, visiting the warden of their 
 house at London, desired to hear from the friars 
 there how much they had spent within one term, 
 he was so shocked even at a very moderate expen- 
 diture, that he threw away their rolls and tallies, 
 and striking himself in the face, declared that from 
 thenceforth he would never audit any account what- 
 ever. It is also recorded that at one of their houses, 
 two strange brethren having arrived weary and 
 footsore, the house hardly knew how to entertain 
 them, as they had not a drop of beer. On a con- 
 sultation among the seniors, the warden determined 
 to borrow a pot of beer, but it was agreed that the 
 brethren of the convent should not drink them- 
 selves, but only pretend to drink along with the 
 strangers " propter caritatem." " In the convent at 
 London," adds the writer, " I have seen the friars 
 
2 t.j. lEarlg ©Jjronlclerg of lEnglattTj. 
 
 drink such sour beer that some would prefer water, 
 and eat bread which the people call a twist (tortd), 
 and even when bread failed they would persistently 
 eat other things in the presence of the minister and 
 guests." 
 
 The four friars who, leaving their brethren at, 
 Canterbury, went on to London and founded the 
 first settlement in the metropolis, were entertained 
 for a fortnight by the already established com- 
 munity of Black Friars. They then took a house 
 in Cornhill and made cells in it, filling up the 
 interstices with grass. They remained till the 
 following summer without a chapel, not having yet 
 obtained a faculty to erect altars and celebrate the 
 mass. Before many weeks were over, two of the 
 four started for Oxford, where again the Black 
 Friars gave them a kindly reception for eight days, 
 till they hired a house in the suburbs, in the parish 
 of St. Ebb's. After the community there had 
 received some accessions they sent forth an off- 
 shoot to Northampton, and in the same way new 
 communities were founded at Lincoln, Cambridge, 
 and other towns. Within thirty-two years from 
 their first arrival in England the number of Grey 
 Friars throughout the country had reached 1242, 
 and the number of their houses was forty-nine. 
 
 It must not be supposed, however, that the first 
 devotees who gave themselves up to this life of 
 poverty and hardship were spared, even in that age, 
 more than such men would be in our day, a severe 
 conflict with social prejudice. Brother Solomon, 
 
fflbe iFraimgcan .dfriarg. 215 
 
 one of the earliest novices, who was afterwards 
 warden of the London house, was appointed to 
 collect alms for the brethren, and went to the house 
 of his own sister with that object. She brought 
 him bread, but turned away her face exclaiming, 
 " Cursed be the hour in which I ever saw thee ! " 
 It was the first of Brother Solomon's trials. He 
 used to endure such cold in procuring faggots, or 
 meal and salt, or figs for a sick brother, that he 
 thought he should have died ; and the brethren 
 not having other means to warm him, gathered 
 round and pressed him to their bosoms " as is the 
 manner of pigs," says our author. He was ordained 
 as an acolyte by Archbishop Stephen Langton, 
 dined at the archbishop's table, and returned home 
 along with one of his seniors barefooted through 
 deep snow. The result was that he was lamed in 
 one foot, and could not stir for two years. Friar 
 Jordan, the superior of the Dominicans, visited 
 him in his infirmity, and said to him, " Brother, be 
 not ashamed if the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ 
 draw thee to him by the foot." His case grew so 
 bad that the surgeons advised amputation, an 
 operation which was then performed with an axe ; 
 but when the instrument was brought and the foot 
 uncovered matter issued from the sore, which gave 
 some hope of amendment. He was sent abroad to 
 visit the shrine of some foreign saint, and in time 
 recovered so completely as to officiate at the altar 
 and walk without a stick. But afterwards he broke 
 his spine, became humpbacked, and was afflicted 
 
2i6 lEarlg ©Jjromclerg of lEnglantu 
 
 with dropsy till his death. On the day before he 
 died he suffered an agony to which all his preceding 
 pains seemed as nothing ; but calling on three of 
 his more special friends to pray for him he had a 
 vision of Jesus Christ and St. Peter, in which our 
 Lord assured him of the forgiveness of his sins, 
 and his anguish at once departed. 
 
 Of visions and the like it is only right to expect 
 somewhat in these narratives, and our author goes 
 on to recount several others, of which the first will 
 be thought rather too much in keeping with the 
 squalor and filth with which the life of the friars 
 forced them to make acquaintance : — 
 
 " It is worthy of memory that when the brethren were in 
 their place at Cornhill, the Devil came visibly, and said to 
 Brother Gilbert de Vyz, when he was sitting alone, ' You think 
 you have escaped me? There, take that,' and threw upon 
 him a handful of lice, and vanished." 
 
 Our author then goes on to speak of their holi- 
 ness of life, their cheerfulness, and their assiduity, 
 in daily journeying barefooted to schools of theo- 
 logy. m spite of cold and mud, till they became 
 competent preachers. He then relates how, in the 
 first provincial chapter, at London, the whole of 
 England was divided into wardenries, and, in con- 
 nection with this part of their history, gives rather 
 an amusing story, He first tells how, at Oxford, 
 in the wardenship of Friar Peter, the brethren used 
 no pillows. And he adds : — 
 
 " Neither did the friars wear shoes unless they were sick 
 or ill, and then by special permission. It happened, more- 
 
®&s JFranrigcan dFrlarg. 217 
 
 over, that Friar Walter de Madeley, of happy memory, 
 found two shoes, and when he went to matins put them on. 
 He stood at matins accordingly, as it appeared to himself, in 
 better condition than usual. But afterwards, when he went 
 to bed, and was resting, it appeared to him that he had to go 
 through a dangerous pass between Oxford and Gloucester, 
 Boysalym (?), where there are usually robbers, and when he 
 was going down into a deep valley they ran up to him on 
 each side of the way, shouting, ' Kill him ! kill him !' Over- 
 powered with dread, he said he was a Friar Minor ; but they 
 said, ' You lie, for you do not walk barefooted.' He, be- 
 lieving himself to be, as usual, unshod, said, ' Yes, I do walk 
 barefooted/ and when he boldly put forth his foot, he found 
 himself before them shod with those shoes ; and in his ex- 
 cessive confusion he immediately awoke from sleep, and 
 pitched the shoes into the middle of the yard." 
 
 The author then shows how some difficulties 
 arose about the observance of their rule in the 
 matter of building, from the increased popularity 
 of the order causing a demand for increased ac- 
 commodation ; after which he speaks of the erec- 
 tion of schools by Brother Agnellus at Oxford, 
 in which he persuaded the celebrated Bishop 
 Grosseteste, of Lincoln, to deliver the first lectures. 
 The author himself was a student in these schools. 
 There were also readers at Cambridge belonging 
 to the order, of whom he has a word to say. 
 Several of the friars, who did not preach, were, 
 nevertheless, authorized to hear confessions, and 
 Brother Solomon, of London, was the general con- 
 fessor, both of the citizens and of the court. Two 
 chapters of the book are devoted to the history of 
 the successive general and provincial ministers of 
 
2i8 lEatlg ©ijronuto of SEnglant). 
 
 the order. With all their holiness we find that 
 the brethren were not without dissensions among 
 themselves, and that Brother Elias was deposed 
 from the office of minister-general after a sharp 
 and bitter discussion before the Pope. It seems 
 that he had never professed the rule of the order, 
 laid down in the Pope's bull, about not receiving 
 money, yet his adherents had succeeded in turning 
 out his predecessor, and getting him elected. In 
 the chapter on the provincial ministers we have 
 some pleasant anecdotes like the following of Friar 
 Albertus of Pisa : — 
 
 " In the aforesaid collation Friar Albertus told a parable 
 against the presumption of young men, saying that there 
 was a certain bull who diverted himself in the meadows and 
 fields just as he would, and when, one day, about prime or 
 terce, he turned aside to the ploughing, and saw that the old 
 oxen paced leisurely along the furrow, and had ploughed 
 very little, he blamed them, and said he would have done as 
 much at a start. And they begged him to help them. And 
 when he was placed in the yoke, he ran with too great force 
 to the middle of the furrow, and, being weary and out of 
 breath, he looked round, and said, ' What ! is it not all done?' 
 And the old oxen answered, ' Not yet,' and laughed at him. 
 Then the bull said he could go no further. They, on the 
 other hand, told him that they went more slowly for that very 
 reason, because they had to work continually, and not only 
 for a time." 
 
 Friar Albertus is described as a strict enough 
 disciplinarian, who ordered silence to be invariably 
 observed at table, except when they had Domini- 
 cans or friars of other provinces for their guests. 
 
Wife ifranrigcatt jFriar^. 219 
 
 He also desired that the friars would wear old 
 coats over new ones, both for the sake of humility 
 and for economy in wear. At the same time, he 
 did not encourage needless austerities calculated 
 to injure the health r — ■ 
 
 " He compelled Friar Eustace de Merc to eat fish contrary 
 to his custom, saying that the order lost many good persons 
 by their indiscretion. He said also that when he was staying 
 with St. Francis in a certain hospital, the saint compelled 
 him to double the daily portion of food that he had been 
 used to eat. He was also so liberal that he gravely rebuked 
 a certain warden, and likewise a Dominican, because they 
 had not provided more abundantly for the convent after 
 labour at a certain solemnity." 
 
 Thus St. Francis himself, it will be seen, though 
 he laid down a rule of severe self-denial, did not 
 imitate the spirit of the later monastic orders in 
 submitting the body to unnecessary constraint. 
 Except on ordinary vigils and fasts, he allowed his 
 followers to eat flesh or other food as they pleased, 
 saying, that the body was made for the soul, and 
 ought to be allowed no cause to complain that its 
 wants were unattended to. In like manner it is 
 recorded by Eccleston of Bishop Grosseteste, who 
 was a special friend of the Franciscans, that " he 
 enjoined on a certain melancholy friar that he 
 should drink a cupful of the best wine for penance, 
 and when he had drunk it up, though most un- 
 willingly, he said to him, ' Dearest brother, if you 
 had frequently such penance, you would certainly 
 have a better-ordered conscience.' " 
 
lEarlg @&rontckt# of lEnglanti.. 
 
 With this we may take leave of Thomas of 
 Eccleston's very interesting little treatise, one of 
 the very few contributions to historical literature 
 that came from the friars. From what has been 
 already said, it will not be thought wonderful that 
 their v/ritings were rare ; but it is all the more 
 valuable that we have in this case the record of a 
 social movement of first-rate importance, which 
 could not have been adequately described, except 
 by one of those who took part in it. 
 
 There were other orders of friars besides the 
 Black and the Grey, but these were the most im- 
 portant. Next to them were the Carmelites, or 
 White Friars, and the Augustinians, or Austin 
 Friars, who, with the former two, made up what 
 were continually spoken of as the Four Orders. 
 Thus it is said of the friar in Chaucer — 
 
 " In alle the Ordres Foure is noon that can 
 So moche of daliaunce and fair language." 
 
 The Carmelites, driven from their original abode 
 at Mount Carmel, in Palestine, settled in the dif- 
 ferent countries of Europe, and came to England 
 in 1240. The Austin Friars arrived in England 
 about ten years later. 
 
 The influence of all these new orders on the 
 thought of the time was marked and extraordinaiy. 
 Indeed, it would scarcely be an exaggeration to 
 say that during the latter half of the thirteenth 
 century the friars were the only thinkers. In theo- 
 logy, physics, and metaphysics, they reigned su- 
 
Bommtcan JSriJooImen. 221 
 
 preme ; and though for centuries their works have 
 been little read, the names of some of their great 
 thinkers are familiar to us still. 
 
 The Dominican order, instituted for the express 
 purpose of cultivating the art of preaching with a 
 view to the conversion of heretics, naturally was 
 the first to produce great theologians and scholars. 
 It was incumbent on them, in the pursuit of the 
 very object for which they were instituted, to popu- 
 larize their philosophy as much as possible. Theo- 
 logy was in that day a thing confined to the 
 universities, where it had become a trite, conven- 
 tional study. The whole science had been so sys- 
 tematized in the preceding century by the Master 
 of the Sentences, as he was called, Peter Lombard, 
 the disciple of Abelard, that the teachers believed 
 they had nothing to do but to read from what was, 
 indeed, a complete body of divinity. But extracts 
 from the Book of the Sentences, exhibiting the 
 opinions of the Fathers upon obscure and knotty 
 points of theology, were not likely to make a satis- 
 factory impression on the minds of those to whom 
 St. Dominic and his followers addressed themselves. 
 It was essential that they should grapple with the 
 heresies of the time, and meet them in the language 
 of the time. The Dominicans accordingly ad- 
 dressed themselves to the study and teaching of 
 divinity with a thoroughness which had not been 
 seen before. Following the methods of Aristotle, 
 whose study was now in the ascendant in spite of 
 papal efforts to brand it as pagan and provocative 
 
lEarlg ©Jromckrs of lEnglant). 
 
 of heresy, they soon arrived at a complete and 
 exhaustive philosophy of things both divine and 
 human. Albertus Magnus, the German philoso- 
 pher, drew up what was in effect an encyclopaedia 
 of all the sciences ; but the man whose name 
 chiefly resounded throughout Christendom — " the 
 Angelical Doctor," as he was called in the schools — 
 the brightest ornament of his own age, and the 
 leader of a great school of thought for many a 
 generation after him, was the Italian, Thomas 
 Aquinas, with his Summa Theologies, or complete 
 body and essence of divinity. He it was who was 
 deemed to have made the citadel of orthodoxy 
 logically impregnable, discussing every question 
 by turns, from the elementary one of the existence 
 of God Himself, and stating with a force and 
 clearness equal to that of the rationalists them- 
 selves every possible objection that could be taken 
 to the truth as it was maintained by the Church 
 Catholic. 
 
 Thomas Aquinas died in 1274; and that same 
 year the crown of England was placed on the head 
 of Edward I. by a Dominican friar, named Robert 
 Kilwardby, who had been promoted the year before 
 to the archbishopric of Canterbury. This fact is 
 in itself remarkably suggestive of the very high 
 estimation in which the order was held, and the 
 influence it had gained in less than sixty years 
 after its first institution. But in those sixty years 
 the intellectual achievements of the order had 
 reached their climax ; and its greatness now began 
 
Wxibet 223 
 
 to wane. Kilwardby himself was a very volum- 
 inous writer, but his fame did not even approach 
 that of " the Angelical Doctor," and not one of his 
 numerous treatises has yet found its way into 
 print. Indeed, there is scarcely a single English 
 Dominican whose literary productions can be ex- 
 pected to have much attraction for the modern 
 reader. The systematic studies of the order were 
 not of such a character as to awaken much 
 sympathy in after ages. Yet there are two English 
 Dominicans who deserve a passing notice here as 
 labourers in the field of history. 
 
 The first is Nicholas Trivet, the author of a 
 valuable set of annals, extending from the reign 
 of Stephen to the death of Edward I. He was 
 the son of Thomas Trivet, one of the justices in 
 eyre in the reign of Henry III., and had joined 
 the brotherhood of the Dominicans even in early 
 youth. Afterwards he studied at Oxford, and 
 also at Paris. He alludes to his studies at the 
 latter university in his preface to the annals above 
 mentioned ; and it appears that when there, he 
 devoted much attention to the history of the 
 French and the Normans, making careful extracts 
 of anything he met with relating to that of his 
 own country. The result of these researches, as 
 well as of further study, was embodied in his 
 Annates Sex Regum Anglice; and as evidence 
 of a systematic intellectual training, too seldom 
 applied to the study of historical events, it is of 
 peculiar interest. In clearness of narrative, and 
 
224 
 
 lEarlg ©ijromclatf of lEnglantJ. 
 
 distinctness of statement it exhibits a marked 
 advance upon the ordinary chronicles of the time. 
 The language, too, is polished and elegant, as is 
 commonly the case when a writer makes accuracy 
 and precision his chief aim. The record of each 
 year is headed by a title, showing first the year of 
 our Lord, and then in parallel columns that of the 
 reigning Pope, and of the emperor, and of the 
 French and English kings respectively, as follows : — 
 
 D. N. J. C. 
 
 P. ROMANORUM. R. 
 
 FRANCORUM. 
 
 ANGLORUM. 
 
 MCXXXVI. 
 
 Innocentii II. Lotharii IV. 
 6. 10. 
 
 Lodovici VI. 
 
 27. 
 
 Stephani 
 1. 
 
 This work constituted one of the original author- 
 ities for the reign of Edward I., being for that 
 period a contemporary history ; and as such we 
 may allude to it hereafter. 
 
 Trivet also wrote a general chronicle of the 
 world from Adam to the Incarnation, and another 
 in French, from the Creation to the thirteenth year 
 of Edward II., which he dedicated to the Princess 
 Mary, daughter of Edward I. But these works 
 still remain in manuscript, and have little interest, 
 even for the historian. 
 
 The other Dominican writer to whom we have 
 alluded, is Dr. Thomas Stubbs, the author of a 
 histcry of the archbishops of York, written to 
 vindicate the rights of that see against the primacy 
 of Canterbury. It begins with the first archbishop, 
 Paulinus, and is carried down to the fourty-fourth, 
 
^Franciscan j&djoolmen. 
 
 John Thuresby, who died in 1373. It appears 
 that Stubbs also wrote an account of the illustrious 
 men of his own order, and some treatises on church 
 law and morals which have never been printed. 
 He is by no means so interesting a writer as Trivet, 
 nor indeed so valuable. 
 
 The intellectual history of the Franciscan order 
 differs greatly from that of the Dominicans as the 
 work to which they applied themselves was dif- 
 ferent. We have seen already that St. Francis did 
 not encourage literature, or even allow the posses- 
 sion of books by his followers, who accordingly 
 found occupation for their minds in the study of 
 nature. The result was a race of physical philo- 
 sophers, unrivalled for the extent of their re- 
 searches, and for their penetrating judgment of 
 things. They were not, however, mere material 
 philosophers, but from the first bestowed much 
 pains upon theology; and from the contemplation 
 of God and nature they gradually extended their 
 investigations over the whole field of human 
 thought. They also attracted to themselves, in 
 some instances, men who had already distinguished 
 themselves in such studies. This was the case, 
 with our countryman, Alexander of Hales, sur- 
 named "the Irrefragable Doctor" (every one of 
 the great Schoolmen had his peculiar epithet), who 
 gave lectures at Paris, and became the teacher of 
 another great Franciscan schoolman, the Italian 
 Bonaventura, second in fame as a philosopher and 
 theologian only to his fellow-countryman Aquinas. 
 
 ENG. Q 
 
226 lEarlg ©Jjromclergi of lEnglanti. 
 
 Bonaventura was called by his disciples "the 
 Seraphic Doctor." His life was pure and beautiful, 
 his insight clear, and undimmed by passion. Of 
 some of his works it was said by Gerson, two 
 centuries later, that he had been reading them for 
 thirty years, and yet had scarcely attained to a 
 first taste of their sweets, which always presented 
 to him something fresh and delightful whenever he 
 recurred to them. Mr. Maurice * has analysed a 
 treatise of his, concerning "the reduction of arts 
 under theology," which contains a number of 
 very beautiful thoughts, touching the different 
 kinds of light, external and internal, which come 
 down, according to St. James's saying, from the 
 Father of lights in Heaven. It is light, according 
 to Bonaventura's view, which is the source of all 
 good gifts. 
 
 The name of " the Illuminated Doctor," however, 
 was reserved for another great foreign scholar of 
 this order, Raymond Lully, a native of Majorca, 
 whose personal history, varied and full of adven- 
 ture, is perhaps, of all biographies of the period, the 
 most characteristic of the times. A soldier, a 
 poet, and a libertine at the beginning of his career, 
 at the age of thirty he was conscience-smitten. 
 Influenced by visions, he renounced his lawless 
 life, gave all his goods to the poor, and became a 
 follower of St. Francis. His mind at the same 
 time appears to have been occupied with the 
 thought of a new moral philosophy, which was to 
 
 * Medieval Philosophy, 215-222 (Ed. 1870). 
 
dFrancigcan jcrijoolmat. 227 
 
 rescue sinners like himself, turn the heretic to 
 orthodoxy, and convert the heathen. With this 
 view he learned Arabic from a Saracen slave whom 
 he had bought for the very purpose ; and having 
 filled his mind with Arabian philosophy, produced 
 a much-admired treatise, called by himself Ars 
 Ltrfliana, and by his followers The Great Art, 
 which was intended to simplify the acquisition of 
 truth by a methodical classification of ideas. Not 
 content, however, with announcing the theory, he 
 eagerly sought leave to bring it to a practical trial. 
 He visited Rome, Paris, and Genoa, trying in vain 
 to impress upon the Pope and others, the import- 
 ance of establishing institutions for teaching Arabic, 
 and sending missionaries to the Mahometans. 
 Then, unable to influence others, he himself sailed 
 three times into Africa, exposing himself to the 
 greatest hardships and dangers in his zeal to 
 convert the Moslems. And after his third attempt 
 he died on the passage home from the sufferings 
 that he had endured. 
 
 The zeal of English Franciscans was more 
 tempered by discretion ; yet an element akin to 
 romance is traceable in some of the anecdotes of 
 their early history also. Thus the circumstances 
 attending the entrance of two illustrious English- 
 men into the order are related by Eccleston as 
 follows : — 
 
 " Master Adam of Oxford, who was famous throughout 
 the world, had made a vow that he would grant any request 
 that should be preferred to him in the name of the Blessed 
 
228 lEarlg ©fitcmWer-s of IHnglanD. 
 
 Mary ; and he told this to a certain recluse who was a friend 
 of his. She revealed the secret to her friends ; that is, to a 
 monk of Reading, tc another of the Cistercian order, and to 
 a friar preacher, telling them that they could gain such a man 
 in such a way ; not wishing that Adam should become a 
 Friar Minor. But the Blessed Virgin did not permit any one 
 in his presence to make the needful request, but deferred it 
 to another time. One night he had a dream that he had to 
 cross a bridge, where some men were throwing their nets 
 into the stream, endeavouring to catch him ; that he escaped 
 them with difficulty, and reached a peaceful spot. Now 
 when, by the divine will, he had escaped all others, he went 
 casually to visit the friars, and during the conversation, 
 William de Colville, the elder, a man of great sanctity, said 
 among other things to Adam, ' My dear master, enter our 
 order for the love of the Mother of God, and help our sim- 
 plicity.-' And Adam immediately consented to do so, as if he 
 had heard the words from the lips of the Mother of God. 
 He was at that time the attendant on Master Adam de 
 Marisco, wore his livery, and wisely induced him, by the 
 grace of God, not long after to enter the order. Now it 
 seemed to Adam de Marisco that on a certain night he and 
 his companion were going to visit a certain castle, and out- 
 side the gates there was a crucifix painted, and whoever 
 wished to enter must first kiss the cross. Friar Adam of 
 Oxford entered first, having kissed the cross, and imme- 
 diately afterwards the other Friar Adam followed, doing the 
 same. But the former, on finding the staircase, ascended 
 with so much rapidity, that he was soon out of the sight of 
 his companion, who followed him and cried aloud, ' More 
 slowly ! More slowly ! ' But the other was seen no more. 
 The meaning of this vision was soon after manifested to all 
 the brethren in England ; for Friar Adam, after his admission 
 visited Pope Gregory [IX], and obtaining the pope's assent to 
 preach to the Saracens, died before his companion at Barlete. 
 But Adam de Marisco entered at Worcester, through zeal of 
 greater poverty." 
 
riFraimgcan j^djoolmot. 229 
 
 The popularity of the Franciscans in England 
 was greater than in any other -country, and among 
 the distinguished men of the order the great ma- 
 jority were Englishmen. Besides the two English 
 schoolmen already named, Adam de Marisco and 
 Alexander of Hales, it is enough to mention Roger 
 Bacon, Duns Scotus, and Occam. No greater 
 names than these shine in the intellectual firma- 
 ment of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries ; and 
 though with regard to Scotus, Scotland and Ireland 
 contest with England the honour of having given 
 him birth, there is no doubt that England may 
 claim him as her own in a more essential point by 
 virtue of his Oxford education. Of Roger Bacon, 
 the greatest of mediaeval experimentalists, it is 
 unnecessary to say much. His was a mind that 
 could break through the bondage of mere authority 
 and raise up for itself a complete fabric of science 
 in almost every department of human knowledge. 
 But with science we are not here concerned. Duns 
 Scotus was " the Subtle Doctor " of the schools, who 
 dared to dispute the doctrines of Aquinas and drew to 
 Oxford, it was said, thirty thousand students to hear 
 his lectures. From Oxford he was called to Paris, 
 where his fame still increased, and he was afterwards 
 sent to found a new university at Cologne, where 
 the citizens went forth to meet him at his approach 
 and carried him into their city in a triumphal car. 
 At Paris he maintained in a public disputation the 
 doctrine of the Immaculate Conception of the 
 Virgin, and brought over the whole university to 
 
230 Icnrlg ©Dronklers of lEnglanti. 
 
 his view, which he defended by elaborate arguments 
 against two hundred objections. But his greatness 
 as a thinker is chiefly shown in the fact that for 
 centuries after him scholastic minds were divided 
 into the two rival sects of the Scotists and the 
 Thomists according as they favoured his philosophy 
 or that of Thomas Aquinas. 
 
 William Occam is said to have been the pupil of 
 Scotus, but he differed from his master in his doc- 
 trine of " universals " — that is to say, of general 
 terms, such as man, horse, or the like, used to indi- 
 cate genus or species. Scotus was what was called 
 a realist, — he considered abstractions to be realities, 
 holding that the idea of a horse, or of any other 
 species of object, was a real thing which existed 
 before any individual horse or object of the kind 
 was ever formed ; while Occam revived the old 
 philosophy of the nominalists, who considered that 
 generic names like this were names and nothing 
 more. More important, however, and certainly 
 more interesting to the modern reader, was the part 
 Occam took in argument against the Pope's inter- 
 ference with the dominion of temporal princes, 
 which formed the great question of the day. Pope 
 John XXII. was the object of his special invectives, 
 whom he charged with introducing new opinions 
 and heresies. It was a bold thing, of course, to 
 denounce the Pope himself as a heretic ; but Occam 
 did so and maintained that a heretical pope might 
 be tried by a general council whose decrees it would 
 be the duty of the emperor to enforce against him. 
 
jftancigcan j&cftoolnun. 231 
 
 Nearly a century later these views were acted upon 
 by the council of Constance which deposed another 
 Pope John ; but Occam had to take refuge from 
 the Pope John of his day, and put himself under 
 the protection of the duke of Bavaria. He died at 
 Munich in 1347. 
 
 The philosophy of Occam exercised undoubtedly 
 a very great influence on the age which suc- 
 ceeded him. He was "the Invincible Doctor," 
 whose arguments it was in vain to contest ; and to 
 him was largely due that growing spirit of resist- 
 ance to papal supremacy which was exhibited 
 among the nations of Europe, and most of all in 
 England, from the days of Wycliffe to the Reform- 
 ation. It was natural enough that the key-note of 
 that resistance should have been first sounded by a 
 Franciscan friar, who having himself, like the rest 
 of his order, abjured the possession of property, 
 looked upon the wealth of the Church as an abuse, 
 and desired to see the administration of temporal 
 things placed entirely in the hands of temporal 
 princes. It was the friars of the Middle Ages, and 
 not Wycliffe, who really were the first to shake the 
 dominion of the Pope of Rome. It was they who, 
 pointing to apostolic poverty, suggested how Chris- 
 tianity might be relieved of everything that was 
 superfluous and reduced once more to its essential 
 principles. In another age, indeed, they grew cor- 
 rupt and Wycliffe took up the theme that they had 
 dropped, showing no small dislike to the successors 
 
2.32 
 
 iEarlg ©Jjronfrlors of SEnglanti. 
 
 of the men who had urged it before ; but the spirit 
 of the great revolution which shook Europe in 
 the sixteenth century lives unmistakably in the 
 writings of Occam, who died two hundred years 
 before Luther had made himself conspicuous. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE ST. ALBANS HISTORIANS AND LATER 
 MONASTIC CHRONICLES. 
 
 Diminution in the number of monastic chronicles — Compensated at 
 first by minuteness of detail — Position of St. Albans as a centre 
 of news — First formation of the scriptorium at St. Alban's — Roger 
 of Wendover — Plan of his chronicle — His account of the papal 
 interdict — Matthew Paris — His characler as an historian — Ex- 
 tracts from his chronicle — William Rishanger — Trivet's account 
 of Edward I. transcribed by him — Other continuators of Matthew 
 Paris — Thomas Walsingham — His account of Wat Tyler's rebel- 
 lion — Whethamstede's Register — End of the age of monastic chro- 
 nicles — Higden's Polychronicon — Trevisa — Caxton. 
 
 It was not to be expected that the friars could 
 leave behind them anything like the voluminous 
 and careful histories which monastic chroniclers 
 have bequeathed to us. Of all pursuits in the 
 world, there is none which demands seclusion and 
 study so much as the writing of history ; and, on 
 the whole, the life of a friar was not one of seclu- 
 sion. While the monk was shut up within his cell, 
 having at his command a valuable library, with 
 which, and with the aid of borrowed books, he 
 could frame new histories of times gone by, the 
 
234 lEarlg ©grontclerg of lEnglatrtJ. 
 
 friar was abroad in the world, preaching, and 
 begging, and tending the sick. Such time as he 
 could afford to give to study at all was commonly 
 devoted to the congenial subjects of theology and 
 physics ; there was little inducement to spend it in 
 the investigation of past events. His library, even 
 after the brethren were allowed to have books at 
 all, was in all probability a scanty one, compiled 
 by the labour of his own fraternity, with little or 
 no aid from the archives of older institutions. 
 Hence the brief and scanty chronicles which these 
 men possessed were commonly to a great extent 
 original, and were often mainly devoted to the 
 history of their own respective orders. 
 
 Indeed, the new stimulus given to thought in 
 other directions by the labours of the friars and the 
 schoolmen was in itself no small bar to the writing 
 of history ; and soon after this we note a consider- 
 able falling off in the number of contemporary 
 chronicles, even of monastic origin. It is seldom 
 found that a great advance in science and scientific 
 modes of thinking is accompanied by an increased 
 study of the records of past times. On the con- 
 trary, it is precisely these things which most excite 
 the mind to speculation, and draw it furthest away 
 from those sober records which possess a human 
 interest to more unsophisticated natures. A pros- 
 pective imagination, whether bent on discovering 
 the philosopher's stone, or on verifying some new 
 theory of life, cannot easily train itself to look 
 back, and see if there is any wisdom to be learned 
 
from the experience of our forefathers in matters of 
 every-clay concern. But in the end the scientific 
 stimulus reaches history as well as other subjects, 
 and historical literature, too, bears the impress of 
 deeper and more careful thought. 
 
 So it was in those Middle Ages. Even in the 
 thirteenth century the number of monastic chroni- 
 cles had very considerably diminished, and it went 
 on diminishing still further for fully two hundred 
 years, when at length these compositions ceased 
 entirely and their place was supplied by writings 
 of another kind. But the diminution in the number 
 of contemporary histories was at first largely com- 
 pensated by improvement in quality and copious- 
 ness ; and perhaps no reign in English history, till 
 we come to the age of newspapers, has been more 
 minutely chronicled than that of Henry III. 
 
 It is to the writings of certain monks of St. 
 Alban's that we owe almost all our knowledge of 
 that very eventful period ; and the fact that the 
 great history of the time was composed within one 
 of the largest of English monasteries, is in itself 
 suggestive of the new conditions under which 
 history was now written. That the monasteries 
 were the great repositories of historical learning 
 had been for ages undisputed ; but it now appeared 
 that the resources of the largest establishments 
 could alone furnish satisfactory materials for the 
 composition of new histories. Moreover, there was 
 an advantage in being near the centre of affairs ; 
 St. Albans was not a very long day's ride from 
 
236 lEarlg ©iKomcIerg of lEnglano. 
 
 London, was frequently honoured by visits from 
 royalty, and was generally in communication with 
 the court. One of those admirable highways left 
 to us by the Romans, stretching out into the "centre 
 and north of England, connected the place with the 
 metropolis, so that pilgrims and wayfarers fronr 
 every quarter received the hospitality of the monks, 
 and brought them news of every thing that could 
 possibly be worth recording. It was known, too, 
 that within the abbey walls a faithful record was 
 continually kept up of all that was heard of doing 
 in the outside world ; and once, as we have re- 
 marked already, Matthew Paris, the official chroni- 
 cler of the house, was called upon by the king 
 himself to witness a solemnity and put it upon 
 record for future ages. 
 
 Matthew Paris, however, was not the first of 
 those monastic chroniclers whose personal relations 
 with the king and the leading men of the time gave 
 him special facilities for collecting information. 
 William of Malmesbury was intimate with the 
 court of Henry I., and enjoyed the patronage of 
 his son the earl of Gloucester. After him, too, 
 there had been no lack of historical writers familiar 
 with the court, but it is doubtful whether any of 
 them belonged to the monastic order. Henry 
 of Huntingdon certainly did not, and neither did 
 Giraldus Cambrensis. Roger of Hoveden was one 
 of King Richard's clerks, was sent by him on con- 
 fidential messages between England and the con- 
 tinent, and held a commission at one time as justice, 
 
3% j&t. mUn'$ y&i&toxiawi. 237 
 
 to hold pleas of the forest in Northumberland. But 
 all this shows that he was a clerical lawyer, not a 
 monk; and it seems as if, just at this particular 
 period, the art of narrating events was cultivated 
 more largely outside the cloister. Yet the monas- 
 teries had never ceased to be the special schools of 
 history ; and it would appear that the court had 
 begun to take note of the fact in a way it had not 
 done before. 
 
 It might even be surmised from the language of 
 Matthew Paris that he was occasionally admitted 
 to the king's council chamber on some such footing 
 as reporters for the press are now to the House of 
 Commons. At least, in the year 1236 he is careful 
 to tell us not only of a number of new laws approved 
 in council for the benefit of the realm, but also of 
 one proposed enactment which was discussed, and 
 which the king would not agree to. The whole 
 tenor of the different ordinances carried on this 
 occasion is so minutely recorded, together with the 
 substance of the rejected measure, that it is clear 
 the report must be regarded as in some sense an 
 official one. A great monastery was, in fact, from 
 one point of view a treasure-house, in which the 
 king himself and his council may have thought it 
 advantageous to deposit important documents, or 
 have them transcribed and interwoven with a nar- 
 rative of current history. That this was actually 
 the way in which Henry III. considered it, is more, 
 perhaps, than we are quite warranted in asserting 
 as a fact : but there is no doubt at all, from what 
 
238 IHarlg ©fjrontcUrjS of lEnglant). 
 
 Matthew Paris himself tells us, that he sometimes 
 admitted the monastic historian to friendly inter- 
 course, and even deigned to dispute with him con- 
 cerning affairs of state. Nor does it appear that 
 this great honour made the writer at all subser- 
 vient. On the contrary, he rebuked the king some- 
 times to his face, and recorded the rebuke after- 
 wards in the pages of his chronicle. 
 
 Facts like these undoubtedly indicate a man of 
 great personal weight and independence of judg- 
 ment. Yet it is probable that the official position 
 of the writer was at that time one of very consider- 
 able influence and power. For the St. Alban's 
 school of historians had already acquired a very 
 high celebrity ; and Matthew Paris himself, in the 
 work to which we have alluded — for he was the 
 author of several others — was only the continuator 
 of a history begun before his day within the walls 
 of the same abbey. It is therefore fitting, before 
 further reference to his labours, that we should 
 bestow a few words upon those of his predecessors. 
 
 It appears from ancient records long preserved 
 within the abbey itself that the original formation 
 of a scriptorium there was the work of Abbot Paul, 
 a Norman, related to Archbishop Lanfranc; that 
 two parts of the tithes of Hatfield were given for 
 its endowment by a Norman nobleman, who was 
 lord of that manor ; and that the abbot had at first 
 to hire scribes from other places, Lanfranc supply- 
 ing them with manuscripts to copy. Succeeding 
 abbots made various contributions of books, among 
 
*&& j&t. &l&an'0 i^fetonang. 239 
 
 which we hear of a missal bound in gold, and other 
 volumes of a similar character with golden illumina- 
 tions. Towards the close of the next century, one 
 Walter, who filled the offices of librarian and pre- 
 centor, is believed to have compiled a chronicle of 
 English affairs ending with the death of King 
 Stephen ; and this work must have been adapted 
 and added to by Roger of Wendover, who suc- 
 ceeded him as historiographer of the monastery. 
 On the death of Roger of Wendover, again, his 
 work was in like manner made use of by Matthew 
 Paris as the foundation of a larger and more 
 extensive chronicle carried down to later times. 
 But the chronicle of monk Walter no longer exists 
 as a separate composition ; whereas the work of 
 Roger of Wendover is still extant in its original 
 form, as well as the larger chronicle in which it was 
 incorporated by Matthew Paris. 
 
 The reader will, doubtless, remember one inter- 
 esting extract which we have made from Wen- 
 dover's chronicle already, giving an account of the 
 interviews St. Francis held with the Pope to induce 
 him to confirm his rule. From this alone some 
 estimate may be formed of the writer's power in 
 dealing with telling incidents. Roger of Wendover 
 liked a good story occasionally, and told it well. 
 But originality does not appear to have been his 
 aim. He only selected from the best authors what 
 seemed most valuable and interesting to put on 
 record. For this reason he entitled his work 
 Flowers of History ; and in his introduction he 
 
240 lEarlg ©Jjronkkrg of iEnglanlJ. 
 
 tells us why. " That which follows," he says, " has 
 been taken from the books of Catholic writers 
 worthy of credit, just as flowers of various colours 
 are gathered from various fields, to the end that 
 the very variety, noted in the diversity of the 
 colours, may be grateful to the various minds of 
 the readers, and, by presenting some which each 
 may relish, may suffice for the profit and enter- 
 tainment of all." 
 
 It was therefore not for what he wrote from his 
 own knowledge, but for what he borrowed from 
 other sources that Wendover chiefly claimed atten- 
 tion to his work ; and though the judgment of the 
 modern historian as to its value is certainly very 
 different, we must by no means overlook the plan 
 of the work itself. It is divided into two books, 
 the first of which is devoted to ancient history from 
 the beginning of the world to the Incarnation, 
 derived partly from the Old Testament and partly 
 from more modern writers, among whom was 
 Geoffrey of Monmouth. The second is a com- 
 pendium of modern history commencing at the 
 Christian era, in the form of annals carried down 
 to the author's own time. Not a single year is 
 passed by without notice ; and as the preface to 
 this part of the work informs us, it gives an account 
 of all the popes and emperors of Rome, of various 
 bishops, kings, and princes in different parts of the 
 world, and of their acts both good and evil. But 
 as the narrative comes down to more modern times, 
 it is almost exclusively occupied with English 
 
iftogcr of 22fontio&a?* 241 
 
 history, and the events in which England was very 
 largely concerned. It becomes also much more 
 full and elaborate ; and from the beginning of King 
 John's reign it may be regarded as an original 
 work. At the end of the year 1235, the author- 
 ship is shown by a note which says, "Thus far 
 extend the Chronicles of Master Roger de Wen- 
 do ver." 
 
 It appears that this author was at one time pre- 
 centor of St. Alban's Abbey, and was afterwards 
 appointed prior of the cell of Belvoir belonging to 
 that community, but being accused of extravagance 
 in his administration he was deposed and recalled 
 to St. Alban's. This is supposed to have been 
 about the year 123 1. His chronicle, or at all 
 events the latter part of it, must have been com- 
 posed during the next five years, and apparently 
 the later events must have been written down 
 almost immediately after they occurred ; for he 
 died on the 6th May, 1236, and his narrative comes 
 to an end at the close of the year preceding. As 
 an historian he is lucid and impartial. It is from 
 him we derive most of the information we possess 
 about the reign of King John ; and the straight- 
 forward simplicity with which he tells the tale, 
 denouncing wickedness and injustice where neces- 
 sary, without invective or high colouring of any 
 kind, is greatly commended by his editor, Mr. 
 Coxe. As a specimen of this quiet style we may 
 give an extract relating to one of the most inter- 
 esting events of the reign, the Papal Interdict : — 
 
 ENG. R 
 
242 lEatlg @§romclerg of lEnglanU. 
 
 " King John had now for nearly two years, as has been 
 said before, unceasingly continued throughout England, on 
 account of the interdict, a most severe persecution against 
 the clergy as well as some of the laity, and had entirely 
 destroyed all kind of hope in every one of any improvement 
 or satisfaction, and Pope Innocent could no longer put off 
 the punishment of his rebellion. Wherefore, by the advice 
 of his cardinals, he, in order to cut up by the root such an 
 insult to the Church, gave orders to the bishops of London, 
 Ely, and Winchester, to declare the said king excommunicated 
 by name, and solemnly to publish this sentence every Sunday 
 and feastday in all conventual churches throughout England, 
 that thus the king might be more strictly shunned by every 
 one. But after the aforesaid bishops had, by the apostolic 
 authority, entrusted the publication of this sentence to their 
 fellow bishops who had remained in England, and to the 
 other prelates of the Church ; they all, through fear of or 
 regard for the king, became like dumb dogs not daring to 
 bark, wherefore they put off fulfilling the duty enjoined on 
 them by the apostolic mandate, and failed to proceed accord- 
 ing to the usual course of justice. Nevertheless, in a short 
 time the decree became known to all in the roads and streets, 
 and even in the places of assembly of the people it afforded a 
 subject of secret conversation to all. Amongst others, as 
 Geoffrey, archdeacon of Norwich, was one day sitting in the 
 exchequer at Westminster, attending to the king's business, 
 he began to talk privately with his companions who sat with 
 him, of the decree which was sent forth against the king, and 
 said that it was not safe for beneficed persons to remain any 
 longer in their allegiance to an excommunicated king ; after 
 saying which he went to his own house without asking the 
 king's permission. This event coming soon after to the 
 knowledge of the king, he was not a little annoyed, and sent 
 William Talbot, a knight, with some soldiers, io seize the 
 archdeacon, and they, after he was taken, bound him in 
 chains and threw him into prison. After he had been there 
 a few days, by command of the said king, a cap of lead was 
 
Koger of 22font>oba:. 243 
 
 put on him, and at length, being overcome by want of food 
 as well as by the weight of the leaden cap, he departed to 
 the Lord." 
 
 From a story like this recorded by a contem- 
 porary pen we can realize better than by any other 
 means by what influence a despotic king was most 
 effectually held in check in the beginning of the 
 thirteenth century. As yet the voice of public 
 opinion in England itself was weak and had to be 
 supported by the public opinion of Christian 
 Europe uttered by the head of Christendom ; nor 
 was it by any means easy, even thus, to bring a 
 tyrant to account. But the wickedness and cruelty 
 of King John were surely working out a remedy 
 which all his wiliness could not ultimately with- 
 stand. The Church, and the barons, and a foreign 
 enemy besides, would all have combined against 
 him with irresistible force ; and though by his 
 abject submission to the papacy he succeeded in 
 dividing their powers and turning his most formid- 
 able opponent into a friend, he had still to reckon 
 with the Church at home united with the barons 
 in demanding Magna Charta. 
 
 The chronicle of Roger de Wendover was tran- 
 scribed, with some additions, by Matthew Paris, who 
 continued it from the year 1235, where his pre- 
 decessor left off. The name of this new writer, 
 properly Matthew of Paris, (Matthaeus Parisiensis), 
 has been supposed to imply that he was either born 
 or educated at the Fiench capital ; but so little is 
 known of his personal history that this is little 
 
244 lEarlg ©fjrontclerg of lEnglanD. 
 
 more than conjecture. The name of Paris is found 
 as an English patronymic in the thirteenth century. 
 Moreover, although our earliest friars came from 
 abroad, and even the English members of those 
 orders had often studied at that famous centre of 
 European scholarship, I believe that the inmates of 
 a monastery were commonly natives of the adjoin- 
 ing district, and had seldom received the advantages 
 of a foreign training. But Matthew Paris was 
 certainly a very exceptional monk, and his pecu- 
 liar qualities as an historian may well be supposed 
 due to an exceptional education. His remarkable 
 fluency of style, accompanied as it is by a breadth 
 of view and a comprehension of foreign affairs 
 rarely found in the untravelled Englishman of that 
 day, to which may be added the fact that he was 
 acquainted with French, and some evidence in his 
 writings of apparent familiarity with the French 
 capital, go far to'justify the speculation. At the 
 same time there is an evident endeavour in the 
 work which we are now considering to continue it 
 on the lines laid down by his predecessor, and con- 
 fine it for the most part to matters connected with 
 the history of England. All his other writings, 
 moreover, are equally limited in their scope. His 
 pen is recognized in biographies of the two Offas, 
 kings of Mercia, (the elder Offa was a mythical 
 personage, but they were both believed to have 
 been founders of St. Alban's) and of the first 
 twenty-three abbots of the monastery, from its 
 original foundation to the author's own day So 
 
J&attiKfo ^arte. 245 
 
 that it would seem, after all, that his affections 
 were entirely English and local unless we suppose 
 that they were governed by a sense of duty to the 
 establishment to which he belonged. 
 
 All we really know about him, however, is that 
 he made his profession as a monk of St. Alban's on 
 the 2 1st January, 12 17, and that nineteen years 
 afterwards, that is to say in 1236, he was appointed 
 to succeed Wendover as chronographer to the 
 abbey, in which capacity he must have been 
 busily occupied till his death, or at least for about 
 seventeen years, with one remarkable interruption. 
 In 1248 he was sent by the Pope on a special 
 mission to the monks of Holm, in Norway, but 
 returned after an absence of eighteen months and 
 resumed his duties in the abbey. His death must 
 have occurred between the years 1253 and 1259. 
 
 It is generally believed that besides being an 
 accomplished penman he was also a skilful artist 
 and illuminator of manuscripts, and moreover that 
 he was a notable worker in gold and silver and 
 other metals. Indeed there is very little doubt that 
 some of his works of art survive, especially drawings 
 in manuscripts ; but the attempt to identify them 
 seems to be very hazardous and has led to some 
 controversy in our day. Among other things he 
 is considered, though even this seems doubtful, to 
 have been the author of three curious drawings of 
 an elephant sent to England by Lewis IX. in 1255, 
 as a present to king Henry III. These are re- 
 markable enough in their way as showing the 
 
246 lEatlg @&ronlcIer$s of lEnglanti. 
 
 strong impression which the creature's dark, mas- 
 sive form had made upon the imagination of the 
 artist ; and though they may scarcely satisfy the 
 critical eye of a generation familiar with the Zoo- 
 logical Gardens, they must have been regarded as 
 very special treasures at a time when the animal 
 was so rarely seen in the West of Europe. If 
 they were really the work of Matthew's pencil they 
 display a vigour of execution not unworthy of their 
 author. 
 
 But whatever may have been the merits of 
 Matthew Paris as an artist, it cannot be said that 
 he greatly studies artistic effect in writing. His 
 narrative is plain, straightforward, and lucid, with 
 here and there a little bit of graphic description, 
 but it contains nothing that is highly coloured or 
 introduced as a mere embellishment. The whole 
 interest of the history arises simply out of the facts 
 themselves and the truthfulness with which they 
 are depicted. The writer was far too much inter- 
 ested in what he had to tell to adorn it with mere- 
 tricious graces. He was a politician who felt the 
 moral significance of all that took place in his day, 
 whether in England, at Rome, or in the distant 
 East ; and he expresses his judgment without the 
 least reserve, alike on the acts of his own sovereign, 
 of his countrymen, and of the court of Rome. He 
 is, in fact, the most distinctly political historian with 
 whom we have yet had to do. He has, no doubt, 
 his feelings as a monk, resenting the presumption, in 
 some cases, of these new orders of friars, though 
 
J&attiKfo $atfe. 247 
 
 even here his complaints seem very fair. But his 
 thoughts rise altogether above mere class and 
 party considerations. He is not so much a monk 
 as an English politician, and yet not English ex- 
 clusively, but cosmopolitan. His merits, even in 
 his own day, as a man of great judgment and 
 impartiality seem to have been renowned over 
 Europe, for it was at the request of the monks of 
 Holm, in Norway, that he was sent thither by the 
 Pope to restore discipline in the monastery and 
 secure it against the usurpations of the Archbishop 
 of Drontheim. 
 
 But it is, of course, as an English politician that 
 he is most interesting to ourselves ; and especially 
 so, considering the period at which he wrote. The 
 progress of the great constitutional struggle be- 
 tween the days of Magna Charta and the be- 
 ginning of our parliamentary system is a subject 
 which stood in special need of illustration from 
 such a clear-sighted and impartial spectator. As 
 yet, it must be remembered, there are no commons 
 to vote supplies ; the king is at the mercy of his 
 barons, even in money matters. He has inherited 
 a kingdom reduced and weakened by his father's 
 misconduct, — a kingdom at one time subjected to 
 the Pope, at another too much under the sway of 
 foreigners. He himself, having been a minor at his 
 accession remained long in tutelage, and was unable 
 when he came of age to assert any real indepen- 
 dence. His marriage is resented as increasing the 
 influence of foreigners; all that he does is con- 
 
248 lEarfg ©fjroniderg of lEnglanli. 
 
 trolled and sharply criticised ; he is driven hither 
 and thither by varying counsels and despised by 
 those on whose aid he is dependent. In this state 
 of matters we can appreciate a passage like the 
 following : — 
 
 " In the year of our Lord 1237, which was the twentieth 
 of the reign of King Henry the Third, he held his court, at 
 Christmas, at Winchester, whence he forthwith sent royal 
 warrants throughout all the English territories, ordering all 
 nobles belonging to the kingdom of England, namely, arch- 
 bishops, bishops, abbots, installed priors, earls and barons, 
 all to assemble without fail in the octaves of the Epiphany 
 at London, to arrange the royal business and matters con- 
 cerning the whole kingdom. The nobles, on hearing this, 
 immediately obeyed the king's summons, and accordingly, 
 on the day of St. Hilary, a countless multitude of nobles, 
 namely, the whole community of the kingdom, came to Lon- 
 don, and proceeded to the royal palace at "Westminster to 
 hear the king's pleasure. When they had all taken their 
 seats, there stood up in the midst of them one William de 
 Kaele, a clerk and familiar of the king's, a discreet man, and 
 well skilled in the laws of the land, who, acting as a sort of 
 mediator between the king and the nobles, disclosed to them 
 the king's pleasure and intentions. ' My lord the king,' he 
 said, ' informs you that, whatsoever he may have done here- 
 tofore, he now and henceforth will, without hesitation, submit 
 himself to the advice of all of you, as his faithful and natural 
 subjects. But those men who have till now, in the manage- 
 ment of his affairs, been in charge of his treasury, have 
 rendered him an incorrect account of the moneys received 
 by them, and owing to this the king is now destitute of 
 money, without which any king is indeed desolate ; he, 
 therefore, humbly demands assistance from you in money, 
 on the understanding that the money which may be raised 
 by your good will shall be kept to be expended for the 
 necessary uses of the kingdom, at the discretion of any of 
 
J&attfiefo 3Parte. 249 
 
 you elected for the purpose.' When the assembled nobles 
 heard this speech, they each and all, not expecting anything 
 of this sort, murmured greatly, and — 
 
 Alter in alterius jactantes lumina vultus. 
 [Each hearer, lost in dire amaze, 
 Turned on his neighbour's face his gaze.] 
 
 And they said to one another — 
 
 Fuderunt partum montes : en ridiculus mus. 
 [The labouring mountains shook the earth, 
 And to a paltry mouse gave birth.] 
 
 They then replied with indignation that they were oppressed 
 on all sides, so often promising and paying, now the twen- 
 tieth, now the thirtieth, and now the fiftieth part of their 
 property, and they declared that it would be unworthy of 
 them, and injurious to them, to allow a king so easily led 
 away, who had never repelled or even frightened one of the 
 enemies of the kingdom, even the least of them, and who 
 had never increased his territories, but rather lessened them, 
 and placed them under foreign yoke, to extort so much money 
 so often, and by so many arguments, from his natural sub- 
 jects, as if they were slaves of the lowest condition, to their 
 injury and for the benefit of foreigners. When the king 
 heard this, he wished to calm the general discontent, and 
 promised on oath that he would never again provoke or 
 annoy the nobles of the kingdom by injuring them in that 
 way, provided that the thirtieth part of all movable property 
 in England was granted and paid to him for his present use ; 
 because the large sum of money which he had, a little while 
 before, sent to the emperor (as he stated) for the marriage of 
 his sister, and also what he had spent at his own marriage, 
 had, in a great degree, exhausted his money. To this they 
 openly replied, that he, the king, had done all this without 
 the advice of his liege subjects, and they ought not to share 
 the punishment, as they were innocent of the crime. They, 
 however, withdrew to a private place to consult about obey- 
 ing the king's demand, and supplying his necessities, and to 
 
250 lEarlg ©!)rotttckrg of lEnglanfc. 
 
 discuss the kind and quantity of assistance which was de- 
 manded. As they were withdrawing for this purpose, Gilbert 
 Bassett said to the king, in the hearing of all, and with less 
 circumspection of speech than he ought, ' My lord king, send 
 some one of your friends to be present at the conference of 
 your barons.' He was when he said this, sitting on one side 
 of the king, with only a few persons between them ; and, in 
 reply to his speech, Richard Percy, who had been at the 
 conference of the nobles, and was, not without cause, angry 
 at it, said, f What is it, friend Gilbert, that you said ? Are 
 we, too, foreigners, and are we not amongst the number of 
 the king's friends?' And Gilbert felt himself rebuked by 
 this unpleasant and sudden speech. And thus, by a multi- 
 plicity of arguments, the conference was protracted for four 
 days." 
 
 At another time we find the king's demand of 
 money at a council or parliament of his nobles, so 
 strenuously resisted that he has recourse to craft 
 to attain his end : — 
 
 " He ordered them to wait till the following day to hear 
 his wishes concerning this and other matters ; and on the 
 morrow he summoned them one by one, at different times, 
 into his private chamber, like a priest summoning penitents 
 to confession, and, as he could not weaken their determina- 
 tion when all together, he cunningly endeavoured to weaken 
 them one by one by his arguments, and begged pecuniary 
 aid from them, saying, ' See what such an abbot has given 
 to aid me, and what such another has given me,' holding out 
 at the same time a list, on which he showed a written agree- 
 ment that such and such an abbot or prior had given so 
 much, or had, at least, promised to give so much, although 
 none of them had given their consent thereto, nor even knew 
 anything of it. By such false precedents and ensnaring 
 words, the king cunningly entrapped a great many ; many 
 others, however, stood firm, and would not in any way swerve 
 
J&attf)«fo ^arte. 251 
 
 from the reply they had agreed on in common, and had 
 sworn to abide by. To these the king angrily said, ' Shall I, 
 then, be a perjured man ? I have sworn an inviolable oath 
 that I would cross the sea, and, with extended arm, demand 
 restitution of my rights from the French king, and this I 
 cannot in any way effect without a large sum of money, 
 which your liberality ought to supply.' " 
 
 It is a wretched condition, certainly, into which 
 the crown of England has fallen. But Europe has 
 fallen into a wretched condition, too. The horrid 
 Tartars have made irruptions as far as Hungary 
 and the shores of the Baltic. Dreadful reports 
 are spread abroad of the Emperor Frederick II., 
 which Matthew Paris can hardly bring himself to 
 believe. It is said that he has been a long time in 
 alliance with the Saracens ; that he keeps a harem 
 of Saracen women ; that he utters blasphemies 
 about the Eucharist, and speaks of Moses, Jesus, 
 and Mahomet, in the same breath, as three con- 
 jurers who had bewitched the world. The crusa- 
 ding spirit has gone out, and the Pope now sells 
 absolution from crusading vows through the medium 
 of mendicant friars. The experiment is even 
 pushed a little further ; and the same friars first 
 preach remission of sins to all who assume the 
 cross for the liberation of the Holy Land, and a 
 few days after absolve the very men whom they 
 have prevailed upon to do so. The Pope practises 
 extortion, levying contributions on religious houses 
 in England by much the same arts as the king 
 employs with his barons. He also promises the 
 
252 lEarlg ©fjronfrlerg of lEnglanti. 
 
 Roman people English benefices for their sons and 
 relatives on condition of their aiding him against 
 the emperor. Such are a few of the indications of 
 general demoralisation depicted in the pages of 
 our chronicler. 
 
 Yet there is a real revival of the old crusading 
 spirit under the king's brother Richard, Earl of 
 Cornwall, afterwards King of the Romans, who, in 
 spite of a positive prohibition from the Pope, sails 
 from France into the East, and is able to send 
 home from Palestine good news of his success. 
 For he has made a treaty with the Sultan of Egypt 
 by which Jerusalem, with a large tract of territory 
 besides, is handed over to the Christians ; and the 
 monks of St. Alban's remember with pride that 
 before starting on his expedition he visited their 
 monastery, and desired the benefit of their prayers, 
 while the foreign ecclesiastics, sent from Rome to 
 collect money in England, regarded his zeal with 
 cold indifference. On his return he is received 
 with joy by the emperor, who had married his 
 sister. Games and festivities of various kinds are 
 held in his honour, among which displays he is 
 particularly attracted by the performances of two 
 handsome Saracen girls, who glided along the 
 floor, each on a pair of rolling balls. " They walked 
 backwards and forwards," says the chronicler, 
 " clapping their hands, moving at pleasure on these 
 revolving globes, gesticulating with their arms, sing- 
 ing various tunes, and twisting their bodies accord- 
 ing to the tune, beating cymbals or castanets 
 
J&att&efo parte. 253 
 
 together with their hands, and putting their bodies 
 into various amusing postures, affording, with the 
 other jugglers, an admirable spectacle to the 
 lookers-on." The French king shows even higher 
 respect for the deliverer of the Holy Land by 
 allowing him to negotiate a truce for Henry III. 
 at a time when, owing to the king's indiscretion, the 
 English army was in danger of being all taken 
 prisoners. Only at Rome was Earl Richard re- 
 ceived with coldness when he went thither from 
 the emperor's court to plead the cause of hi.s 
 brother-in-law. 
 
 Of facts like these Matthew Paris appreciates the 
 significance, after the fashion of a modern English- 
 man, rather than a monk. To us in the present 
 day, who perhaps have visited the continent our- 
 selves, and who are accustomed every morning to 
 read disquisitions on the affairs of other countries, 
 as well as of our own, it seems natural enough to 
 take a deep interest in the state of Europe gener- 
 ally. But no other monk before the days of 
 Matthew Paris, and no other writer for a long time 
 after him, shows such a clear appreciation of the 
 intimate connection between the history of his own 
 country and that of other nations. His foreign 
 intelligence, moreover, is remarkably good. His 
 vivid description of the Tartars, whose irruptions 
 spread so much consternation over Europe is 
 scarcely inferior to that of Gibbon. "These 
 people," he says, "have very large heads, by no 
 means proportionate to their bodies, and feed on 
 
254 lEarlg ©fjtonlclerg of lEnglant). 
 
 raw flesh, and even on human beings ; they are in- 
 comparable archers, and cross any rivers in portable 
 boats made of hides ; of robust strength and large 
 in their bodies, impious and inexorable men ; and 
 their language is unknown to all within reach of 
 our knowledge. They abound in flocks, herds, and 
 breeds of horses; the horses are 'very swift, and 
 able to perform a journey of three days in one ; 
 the men are well armed in front, but not behind, 
 that they may not take to flight ; and their chief 
 is a most ferocious man, named the Khan." In 
 the year 1238, when they threatened Gothland and 
 Friesland we are told that the people of those 
 countries did not, as usual, send to Yarmouth for 
 herring, and that commodity consequently became 
 a drug in the market. One slight drawback, how- 
 ever, in this chronicle in point of literary art is that 
 the writer occasionally repeats himself a little ; and 
 this is the case to some extent in his account of the 
 Tartars, to whose doings he is obliged to return 
 more than once in the course of his narrative. 
 
 Meanwhile, amid all the disorders of the times, 
 we see how England was gradually making her way 
 towards a fixed constitution. The king's repeated 
 applications to the nobles for money require some 
 check to be administered. In 1244, they are con- 
 voked in council, and meet in the refectory of 
 Westminster Abbey, where the king in person 
 urges the great expenses he has incurred in an 
 expedition to Gascony, undertaken, as he alleges, 
 by their advice. He says nothing of an intended 
 
Jttattfcfo $arfe. 255 
 
 expedition against Scotland, as to which, apparently, 
 their advice was not desired. After the nobles had 
 left the refectory, the bishops, abbots, and priors 
 took counsel together in a place by themselves, 
 and afterwards asked the earls and barons if they 
 would agree to their advice in giving an answer. 
 The latter replied that they would do nothing 
 except by joint consent of all. Four bishops, four 
 earls, and four barons were then appointed as 
 delegates for the different orders of the peerage, 
 whose determination was to be binding on the 
 whole body. It was accordingly agreed first to 
 demand the redemption of some old pledges, and 
 the appointment of a justiciary and a chancellor, as 
 serious abuses had grown up for want of such 
 officials. The king, to avoid the appearance of 
 acting on compulsion, refused the petition, but 
 promised some amendment of the matters com- 
 plained of, and desired the council to meet again 
 at a later date. The nobles then declared that if 
 the king would elect such councillors as they should 
 approve, and would permit his expenditure to be 
 controlled by the twelve delegates, they were will- 
 ing to grant supplies. The answer was unaccept- 
 able. The king endeavoured to temporize, and, to 
 win over the clergy to his will, showed a brief that 
 he had procured from the Pope, not without a 
 handsome douceur to his Holiness in reward for so 
 great a favour, requiring them to make a liberal 
 contribution to his necessities. When the bishops 
 met together to consider the Pope's letter, the king 
 
256 lEarlg ©ijronklcrs of 3EnglanD, 
 
 sent to them Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester 
 (who at this time acted with him), and some other 
 of his friends, to urge their compliance ; after which 
 he came himself to protest that their honour was 
 as dear to him as his own, and that he expected 
 his would be dear to them likewise. But they only- 
 persisted in the reply that they would consider the 
 matter ; and after he had left them, Grosseteste, 
 Bishop of Lincoln, made answer to those who were 
 in favour of concession, " Let us not be divided 
 from the common counsel ; for it is written, if we 
 be divided, we shall all die forthwith." 
 
 Matthew Paris did not live to record the result 
 of this long struggle between the king and his 
 barons, which, it is well known, culminated in civil 
 war some years later. It seems a little uncertain 
 when he laid down the pen. The history which he 
 began was continued by other hands to the death 
 of Henry III., and there is no satisfactory evidence 
 of the place at which a change of authorship first 
 took place. We only know that it could not have 
 been later than the year 1259. Matthew's own 
 original intention had been to stop at the end of 
 1250, the year of Jubilee, where he distinctly winds 
 up the narrative with a few Latin rhymes, intimat- 
 ing that the time required rest, and that he will 
 not inquire what things the coming age may bring 
 forth. It is absolutely certain, however, that he 
 resumed his functions of historiographer, and con- 
 tinued the work to at least as late a date as the 
 year 1259, as in this portion of the narrative he 
 
Jftattljtfo $atfe. 257 
 
 twice speaks of himself by name ; nor is there any- 
 very perceptible change of style till we reach the 
 year 1259. But, to judge from internal evidence, 
 the work at that date must have been for some 
 time discontinued, and when it was resumed by 
 another pen, the inmates of the monastery must 
 have forgotten how far Matthew Paris had pro- 
 ceeded with it before his death. For in the year 
 above mentioned, we meet with a remarkable 
 rubric which, though it might read as if it had 
 been inserted by a still later transcriber, is in all 
 probability the work of the continuator himself, 
 written in a spirit of humility as the preface to his 
 own labours. " It is to be understood," says the 
 note in question, " that thus far the venerable man, 
 brother Matthew of Paris, is the writer, and though 
 the handwriting may vary, yet, as the same style 
 of composition is preserved throughout, the whole 
 is ascribed to him. But w r hat is hereafter added is 
 to be attributed to another brother, who, presuming 
 to take in hand hereafter unworthily to continue 
 the work of so great a predecessor, although he 
 was not worthy to unloose the latchet of his shoe, 
 has not deserved to have his name inscribed upon 
 the page." 
 
 The writer's name, however, is generally believed 
 to have been William Rishanger, who was also the 
 author of an independent chronicle of the war be- 
 tween Henry III. and his barons. This opinion 
 has not passed altogether without question ; for 
 although it is admitted on all hands that William 
 
 ENG. S 
 
258 lEarlg ©Srontckrg of lEnglanti. 
 
 Rishanger was one of the long line of writers who 
 continued the St. A /dan's Chronicles, there is no 
 very distinct evidence that he was the immediate 
 successor of Matthew Paris. We have a memoran- 
 dum written by himself, in which he calls himself 
 " Cronigraphus," or a writer of chronicles, very 
 precisely dated on the day of the Invention 
 of the Holy Cross, A.D. 13 12, the fifth year of King 
 Edward II. ; and at that date he says that" he had 
 been forty-one years a monk, and was sixty-two 
 years old. It follows that he was born in the year 
 1250 ; and if he was the first monk of St. Alban's 
 who took up the pen where Matthew Paris left off, 
 the writing of chronicles in that house must cer- 
 tainly have been for a long time discontinued. Yet 
 it is not at all incredible that Rishanger had to go 
 back to a time when he was only nine years of 
 age. A period of civil war had intervened, which 
 spread alarm even within the seclusion of St. Alban's 
 Abbey ; and, as we have seen, the rubric of the 
 anonymous continuator (whoever he may have 
 been) greatly favours the supposition that the 
 writing of chronicles had been suspended for a very 
 considerable time. 
 
 Moreover, it is certain, from the separate treatise 
 written by Rishanger on the war between Henry 
 III. and his barons, which bears his name at the 
 commencement, that he actually had bestowed a 
 good deal of thought and study on the history of 
 the very momentous events which had taken place 
 in England in his youth. And it is rather strongly 
 
&fefjanger':s ©fjronkle. 259 
 
 suggested, by the language he uses at the com- 
 mencement, that the work of writing annals and 
 investigating historical facts had fallen a good deal 
 into disrepute in his day. So that from this cir- 
 cumstance also we may quite well believe that the 
 task of continuing the chronicle of Matthew Paris 
 had been left till his time in abeyance. The fol- 
 lowing are the words with which he introduces the 
 subject of this treatise : — 
 
 "It has grown a custom, not to be commended, with very 
 many who care little about written chronicles, to despise 
 books of history, and acts of princes, and, treating those who 
 study them with derision, they regard them all as frivolities 
 and falsehoods. For whom it is expedient to incline their 
 ears, not without shame, to wholesome admonition, that they 
 may take care to put a check upon their scurrility, lest, if by 
 chance they censure too severely the simplicity of others, un- 
 mindful of their own frailty, they be found guilty of denying 
 what is true, especially when we see such things declared to 
 the knowledge of many persons by holy and catholic men. 
 And if any one refuses to submit to this admonition, of what 
 great rebuke is he deserving ! Let him hear what is written : — 
 ' Whatever is most wholesome, whatever commends thee most 
 to God, and excites thee to greatest devotion, meditate the 
 same, and put it in practice, and study always to follow and 
 embrace it.' For that meditation is blessed which is followed 
 by fruitful contrition of heart, directing the mind's eye to the 
 light of celestial contemplation ; which commonly takes place 
 when it is remembered how all the nobility and power of 
 mortals passes away with a momentary vanity. For it 
 happens not unfrequently that from the remembrance of 
 those who have gone before, the mind of a reader is kindled 
 with the love of the heavenly country. Since, therefore, some 
 of our contemporaries who have devoted much attention to 
 
25o lEarlg <£l)ronkIa;g of lEnglanfc. 
 
 the investigation of past events are also strengthened in their 
 difficulties when they consider how ancient fathers, like gold 
 tried by the fire, after being proved by various persecutions, 
 have happily passed away hence to the joy above, we, be- 
 lieving that our successors are detained meanwhile with like 
 employment, have thought good to put in writing those won- 
 derful and displeasing events which God has permitted to be 
 stirred up in our time for the chastisement of the English 
 nation, the sins of the people deserving it ; so that, consider- 
 ing how we, with our troubles and our joys alike, have passed 
 away like a shadow, they may not only fear the less those 
 evils which before the consummation of this age will come 
 upon the whole world, according to the Gospel promise, but 
 even rise to meet them joyfully, strengthened by the patience 
 of God." 
 
 This chronicle, then, was written a generation 
 later than the events that it records. The writer, 
 who became a monk of St. Alban's in the year 
 1 27 1, could not certainly have become the official 
 chronicler of the abbey till many years later, though 
 it is possible that he was admitted to that office 
 some time before 13 12, the year in which he ex- 
 pressly styles himself " Cronigraphus." The chro- 
 nicle is, therefore, the work of an old, or, at least, 
 middle-aged man, relating for the benefit of poste- 
 rity the story of what had happened in England in 
 the days of his own youth. It is, in fact, the most 
 full and complete account of those events which 
 we possess, or rather, would have been, if it had 
 come down to us entire ; but it is fragmentary 
 towards the close, and, by some gross confusion on 
 the part of the scribe (for only one manuscript of 
 the work has come down to us), the matter has 
 
Jfttgfmngetr'jJ ©Jjroitfcle. 2 5 1 
 
 been copied in some places in a wrong order. Still, 
 the story is told with not a little zest, and with 
 great sympathy for the popular hero, Simon de 
 Montfort, of whom the author gives us a very high 
 character. In the course of the narrative, some 
 Latin rhymes are quoted, which, as an expres- 
 sion of the popular feeling on the struggle then 
 going on, I have endeavoured to translate into 
 English verse, of somewhat the same character, as 
 follows :— 
 
 " O mourn and weep, sad England, for, full of heavy woe, 
 Thou but beholdest miseries which daily bring thee low. 
 If Christ do not regard thee now, as He is wont to do, 
 Thy name will be a mockery to every haughty foe. 
 
 " Full many a pledge thy sons have given to keep thee safe 
 
 and free, 
 But now too little they regard the word they swore to thee ; 
 For some who well could aid thee reck not what thy 
 
 dangers be, 
 And some evade their promise and escape beyond the sea. 
 
 " Hence others have begun to raise contention in the land, 
 And those take sides who ought to join together, hand in 
 
 hand ; 
 Nor seek they peace and concord, but against each other 
 
 band ; 
 But how to end the things begun they cannot understand. 
 
 " So languishes our common weal, the land is desolate, 
 And foreigners grow mighty on the ruin of our state. 
 Our native Englishmen are scorned as men of low estate, 
 And still must bear with injuries that no tongue dare 
 relate. 
 
?62 Icatlg ©fircmckrg of 1EngIant». 
 
 " The soldier and the churchman both are dumb as any stone ; 
 The right of speaking freely is for foreigners alone. 
 Not two among a hundred of us English hold our own, 
 And all that we attain is grief and shame and bitter moan. 
 
 " O Gloucester's Earl, it is for thee the noble work to achieve 
 Which was thine own beginning ; else thou many shalt 
 
 deceive. 
 Go, manfully redeem thy pledge, and let us still believe 
 The cause which took its source from thee shall strong 
 
 support receive. 
 
 " Or if (which God forbid !) thy hand, thou seek now to with- 
 draw, 
 A traitor to thy own loved land as never England saw,* 
 
 " Earl Simon, too, of Montfort, thou powerful man and brave, 
 Bring up thy strong battalions thy country now to save. 
 Be not dismayed by menaces or terror of the grave. 
 Defend with might the public cause ; naught else thine own 
 needs crave. 
 
 " And thou, Earl Bigod, keep thy word, and lend a helping 
 hand, 
 As thou a doughty-soldier art, well fitted to command. 
 'Tis but a petty rout of dogs in turmoil keeps the land. 
 Drive out or quell the cursed race with thy victorious band. 
 
 " Great nobles who have pledged your faith, as ye are English 
 
 lords, 
 Keep firmly to your plighted troth, defend it with your 
 
 swords. 
 If aught the land may profit by your counsels and accords, 
 Let that be done and quickly which ye have ordained in 
 
 words. 
 
 * The third line of this stanza is lost, having been omitted by 
 the transcriber, so that it is impossible to complete it in translation. 
 
Mtefjanger'si ©Dronfcle. 263 
 
 " If that which ye have now begun ye steadfastly maintain, 
 The object ye so much desire ye surely may obtain. 
 Of long deliberation unless an end ye gain, 
 It truly may be said of you, your labour was in vain. 
 
 " To you the highest honour will redound, when all his o'er, 
 If, bearing your devices, England freely breathe once 
 
 moie. 
 And may God Almighty's mercy from the plague she suffers 
 
 sore 
 Soon redeem our wretched country, and sweet peace to her 
 restore." 
 
 There is certainly much in common between this 
 undoubted chronicle of Rishanger and the con- 
 tinuation of Matthew Paris during the same period, 
 though the order in which the subjects are treated 
 is a little different. At the same time, each has 
 some things which the other leaves out. And, to 
 refer now to the continuation, we may quote an 
 incident related just after the account of the battle 
 of Lewes, which, as being in itself of mere local 
 interest, may, perhaps, enable us to realize to our 
 imaginations the effect of these miserable dissen- 
 sions over the whole of England : — 
 
 " At this time, the town of St. Alban's was so carefully 
 fortified, and the gates were so strongly secured with locks 
 and bolts for fear of war, that all access was denied to those 
 who wished to pass through it, especially mounted horsemen. 
 At that time Gregory de Stoke, Constable of Hertford, piqued 
 at the spirit displayed by the people of St. Alban's, boasted 
 that he would enter the town with three attendants, notwith- 
 standing the bolts and bars, and would seize and carry off 
 with him to Hertford four of the better class of townsmen. 
 To carry out his purpose he entered the town and made 
 
264 lEarlg (S&ronickrs of lEwglanli. 
 
 foolish excursions everywhere, looking about now this way 
 now that, as if he was going to perpetrate some great thing. 
 At length he said to the lads accompanying him, ' You see 
 how the wind stands ? ' Presently a certain butcher, thinking 
 he meant to burn the town, said, ' I will teach you how the 
 wind stands,' and gave him a blow on the face with such 
 violence that he fell at his feet upon the ground. The people 
 then seized him and his lads and bound them with iron rings 
 and fetters ; and in the morning their heads were cut off by 
 the butchers, and were fixed upon long stakes and placed at 
 the four ends of the town. But the king, when he heard of 
 it, fined the town a hundred marks, which was immediately 
 paid." 
 
 Whether we are right or wrong in our conjecture 
 that the work of Matthew Paris was only continued 
 by Rishanger after a long interval, it is certain, at 
 least, that Rishanger and succeeding writers made 
 the narrative complete, and carried it on without 
 a break-down to the death of Henry V. on the 
 same plan. Through the whole of that period the 
 fullest original account we possess of all that took 
 place in England is to be found in the series of the 
 St. A Ibaris Chronicles ; and even if not in all parts 
 written at the date of the events themselves, it is 
 in the form of annals such as those which Matthew 
 Paris, there can be little doubt, wrote down while 
 the news of all that occurred was fresh in the 
 mouths of every one. At the end of each year, 
 also, these writers systematically gave an account 
 of its meteorological and other characteristics, 
 showing whether it had been a good year, or the 
 reverse, for corn and fruits ; whether there had 
 
{Eribst'ss (JDJjronick Iftarrofocb. 265 
 
 been violent storms, floods, or famines, and whether 
 there had been any other special causes affecting 
 the general happiness of the people. During the 
 whole period, from the reign of Henry III. to that 
 of Henry V., such an annual register will be found 
 in the St. A /dan's Chronicles. 
 
 How far Rishanger's contribution to this series 
 was an original composition, it is difficult to say ; 
 for during the whole reign of Edward I., in which 
 we might expect him to take his place as a con- 
 temporary writer, the account of events in the St. 
 Alban's Chronicles seems to be borrowed, almost 
 word for word, with the exception of the meteoro- 
 logical register just referred to, from the chronicle 
 of the Dominican Friar, Nicholas Trivet, of which 
 we made some mention in the last chapter. In 
 one place, indeed, where the St. Alban's writer 
 abridges the catalogue of the works of Thomas 
 Aquinas, given by Trivet, he expressly refers to 
 that writer's chronicle by name. So that there 
 seems very little doubt that it is the St. Alban's 
 writer who has borrowed all along from Trivet, not 
 Trivet from the St. Alban's writer. We will there- 
 fore take the opportunity in this place of giving 
 the reader a specimen of the style of the pains- 
 taking and accurate Dominican, which we refrained 
 from doing before to avoid chronological confusion. 
 The following is Trivet's personal description of 
 King Edward : — 
 
 " Edward, King of the English, the eldestborn of Henry III. 
 by Eleanor, daughter of the Count of Provence, had completed 
 
266 ^arlg ©Ijrotucferg of ^nglant). 
 
 thirty-three years and five months of his age on the day he 
 was about to succeed * his deceased father in the kingdom. 
 He was a man of proved foresight in the conduct of affairs, 
 devoted to the exercise of arms from his boyhood, by which 
 he acquired for himself in divers regions that fame in which 
 he singularly outshone the princes of all the Christian world 
 in his day. He was of handsome figure, of majestic stature, 
 in which he overtopped ordinary people from the shoulder 
 upwards. His hair in boyhood, from a colour almost silvery, 
 bordering upon yellow, but in youth changing to black, adorned 
 his old age with locks of a swan-like whiteness. His forehead 
 was broad, and the rest of his face likewise, except that the 
 drooping eyelid of his left eye betrayed a resemblance to his 
 father's glance. With a stammering tongue he yet had no 
 lack of eloquence to persuade when there was any occasion 
 for oratory. In proportion to his body his arms were long 
 and supple ; there were no arms to match them for nervous 
 vigour and skill in sword fence. His breast was more 
 prominent than his belly, and the length of his thighs when 
 his charger reared and galloped, prevented the rider from 
 ever losing his seat. 
 
 When not engaged in warfare he indulged both in hunting 
 and fowling, but especially in the hunting of stags, which he 
 was wont to pursue with swift horses, and to transfix when 
 taken, with a sword instead of a hunting-spear. That he 
 lived under the special protection of the Most High God 
 might be very well known, not merely because when a youth 
 engaged at chess with a certain knight in a chamber with 
 a vaulted roof, he suddenly rose and departed in the middle 
 of the game without any occasion being offered, and a stone 
 of enormous size, which would have crushed him, fell in the 
 very place where he had been sitting ; but also from the 
 fortunate issue of various other dangers which he frequently 
 
 * It must be remembered that the legal maxim, " The king never 
 dies " did not hold good in those days. The successor of a deceased 
 king was not accounted as actually king till he was crowned. 
 
%vibtt , $ @t)ro.niek 2Sortofort). 267 
 
 incurred, as the studious reader may note later on in our 
 narrative. There was in him a noble spirit, impatient of 
 injuries and forgetful of dangers while he sought for vengeance, 
 yet capable of being easily softened by a show of humility. 
 For once, while engaged in hawking near a river, he chid 
 one of his attendants on the other side of the stream for 
 having carelessly allowed a falcon to fly at a duck among 
 some willows ; and on finding, as it seemed, no attention 
 paid to his rebuke, he added threats. The other, perceiving 
 that there was neither bridge nor ford near at hand, replied 
 promptly it was enough for him that the river divided them 
 from each other ; on which the king's son, enraged, plunged 
 into the water without knowing its depth, and swimming his 
 horse, crossed the stream. Then ascending with difficulty a 
 bank, made hollow by the course of the river's channel, he 
 drew his sword and pursued the other, who, having now 
 mounted his horse, was flying before him ; but, despairing 
 of escape, turned back, and, with bared head, put forth his 
 neck and submitted himself to Edward's will. On this the 
 king's son, checked in nis fury, replaced his sword in the 
 scabbard, and they both returned in peace to see to the 
 neglected falcon." 
 
 After Rishanger the St. Alban's Chronicles were 
 continued by two writers, named John de Trokelowe 
 and Henry de Blaneforde, down to the middle of the 
 reign of Edward II. In that of Edward HI. there is 
 not much evidence of the work having been carried 
 on by any contemporary pen within the walls of the 
 abbey. But Thomas Walsingham, who was pre- 
 centor and " scriptorarius," or principal scribe, at 
 St. Alban's in the reign of Richard II., recast the 
 work of Trokelowe and Blaneforde, with some 
 additions from other sources, and carried it down 
 to his own times. This fact is certain ; but how 
 
268 ^arlg ©fjroniclerg of sEnglanD. 
 
 far he carried it down in his own time is another 
 question. We know that he lived till at least very- 
 near the end of Henry V.'s reign, and that he dedi- 
 cated to that king-, after the conquest of Normandy, 
 a work of very similar character to his English 
 history which he called Ypodigma Neustrics. More- 
 over, the English History itself, which goes by his 
 name, comes down all the way to the death of 
 Henry V., in 1422, and a considerable portion of 
 the later narrative, as far as the year 14 19, is word 
 for word the same as in the Ypodigma. Yet Mr. 
 Riley, Walsingham's most recent editor, has, 
 strangely enough, found reasons for thinking that 
 the English History is not really Walsingham's 
 own composition after the year 1392 ; and that, 
 although he was an original writer in the time 
 of Richard II., he adopted as his own in the 
 Ypodigma the work of some one else who had 
 written a history of current events in the two 
 succeeding reigns. 
 
 This is not the place for controversy, but I must 
 simply say that the evidences adduced for this 
 extraordinary opinion seem to me singularly weak. 
 It is quite true that one manuscript of th history 
 terminates in the year 1392, and that "ter that 
 date the narrative is for some years les? full and 
 satisfactory. But a sufficient explanatk i of this 
 may, I think, be found in the personal history of 
 the author, who was removed from the monastery 
 of St. Alban's in 1394, and made prior of Wymond- 
 ham in Norfolk. In 1400 he ceased to be prior of 
 
tWjomag 22JaIgtngSam. 269 
 
 Wymondham, and in all probability returned to 
 St. Alban's, where he would naturally resume 
 those literary labours which had been interrupted 
 by other duties elsewhere. Nor is there anything 
 that I can see of the nature of internal evidence 
 to create a doubt that the writer of the history 
 during the reigns of Henry IV. and Henry V. is 
 the same as the writer of the history in Richard 
 II.'s time. On the contrary, the style is the same 
 throughout. 
 
 Walsingham is stated by ail writers to have been 
 a native of the county of Norfolk ; and his name, 
 in that case, probably indicates the exact place of 
 his birth — Thomas of Walsingham. He appears 
 to have been educated at Oxford, and, in speaking 
 of Wycliffe, laments sadly the favour shown to 
 heresy by his Alma Mater. " How greatly," he 
 says, " the modern proctors or rulers of that univer- 
 sity have degenerated from the prudence or wisdom 
 of their predecessors may be easily conjectured 
 from this — that, on hearing of the cause of the 
 coming of the said papal nuncio " (meaning one 
 who had brought a bull of Gregory XI. against 
 Wycliffnt, "they were, for a long time, undecided 
 whether mey ought to receive the papal bull with 
 honour, i? altogether reject it with disgrace. Oh, 
 general s eudy of Oxford, with what a heavy lapse 
 thou hast fallen from the summit of wisdom and 
 learning ! For, whereas thou wast formerly wont to 
 unravel the doubts and perplexities of the whole 
 world, now, darkened by a cloud of ignorance, thou 
 
270 lEarlg Chroniclers of lEnglanl). 
 
 dost not fear to doubt the things which it does 
 not become any one to doubt, even among lay- 
 Christians. I am ashamed to remember such im- 
 prudence, and therefore avoid dwelling on this 
 subject, lest I may seem to wound with my teeth 
 those maternal breasts which used to give milk, 
 and nourish with the beverage of knowledge." 
 
 Walsingham is a very important writer. It is 
 from him, although a hostile critic, that we learn a 
 great part of what we know about Wycliffe. From 
 him, too, comes most of our information about Wat 
 Tyler's insurrection, about the Wonderful Parlia- 
 ment, and generally speaking about the reigns of 
 Richard II., and of the Fourth and Fifth Henry. 
 In connection with the subject of Wat Tyler's in- 
 surrection, he gives us a pretty complete account of 
 the preaching of one whom he very unjustly regards 
 as Wycliffe's true disciple — the incendiary priest, 
 John Balle, who addressed the multitude at Black- 
 heath on the well-known theme : — 
 
 " Whan Adam dalf and TLvb span 
 Wo was thanne a gentilman ? " 
 
 Although the terror inspired by Tyler's insurrec- 
 tion was greatest in the metropolis, the monastery 
 of St. Alban's had no small share in the alarm. 
 The townsmen, tenants of the abbey in villenage, 
 went up to London to join the revolt, and consult 
 with their fellow-bondmen and Wat Tyler himself 
 how to free themselves from all the restrictions 
 imposed by their special tenure. They returned, 
 
©Ijoraass S&algmgtmnu 271 
 
 threatening to set fire to the abbey if their demands 
 were not conceded, and the prior and four of the 
 monks whom they specially denounced fled for 
 their lives to their northern cell at Tynemouth. 
 The abbey was besieged by an army of serfs, 
 clamouring for the surrender of certain ancient 
 charters which they had been taught to believe 
 ought to have freed them long ago from bondage. 
 Nothing of the kind existed, but the abbot was 
 obliged to concede to them whatever charters they 
 demanded. They burst into the abbot's parlour 
 and carried away some millstones which had been 
 placed as a pavement at the door in memory of an 
 ancient law-suit gained by the abbey against the 
 town. They broke these stones into fragments, and 
 gave each man a piece, "as blessed bread on Sundays 
 is divided and given in parish churches," says our 
 historian. Thus, every one was able to preserve 
 a memorial that they had taken vengeance in that 
 matter on the monastery. But these things are as 
 nothing to what is recorded of the wild doings in 
 London ; how the mob broke into the Tower and 
 beheaded the Archbishop of Canterbury and the 
 lord treasurer, and every one who did not promise 
 to join their party. " I have learned from a trust- 
 worthy reporter," says Walsingham, " that thirteen 
 Flemings were violently dragged out of the church 
 of the Austin Friars in London, and beheaded in 
 the public streets ; and from another parish church 
 in the same city seventeen ; all of whom, without 
 reverence of sanctuary or fear of God (for at the 
 
272 lEarlg ©ftsomclerg of lEnglant). 
 
 time that accursed crowd had no respect for man), 
 were murdered by the same process of decapita- 
 tion." Altogether, the picture drawn of this one 
 great socialistic movement of the Middle Ages is 
 truly most appalling. Nothing more horrible, it 
 may be safely said, has ever taken place on Eng- 
 lish ground. 
 
 In the later portion of Walsingham's chronicle, 
 the principal subject of interest is of course the 
 story of Henry V.'s campaigns in France. But the 
 narrative is more remarkable for fullness of infor- 
 mation than for liveliness or vigour of description. 
 For it must be owned Walsingham had very little 
 of the graphic power of his great predecessor, 
 Matthew Paris, though he framed his work on the 
 same model ; nor does he group his facts together 
 in such a masterly way. It is hardly fair, however, 
 to expect military ardour in a monk. Though he 
 followed Henry's progress in France with that 
 interest which it could not fail to excite in every 
 Englishman, there were subjects at home, such 
 as Oldcastle and the Lollards, on which he dis- 
 plays a still greater amount of feeling ; and without 
 sympathising with what he says on these matters 
 we feel that his account of them is even more sig- 
 nificant than any description of military achieve- 
 ments could be. For they tell us what was passing 
 in the very hearts of men, not merely what they 
 were doing in the world. 
 
 With Walsingham the regular sequence of chron- 
 icles in continuation of Matthew Paris comes to an 
 
Wt)ttf)sim$UW& &egfeter. 273 
 
 end. For about thirty years after the death of 
 Henry V. no record of the events of English history 
 seems to have been kept at St. Alban's, or, if kept, 
 has been preserved. But in the year 1451, John 
 Whethamstede, who had already been abbot of St. 
 Alban's once before and resigned the dignity, was 
 again elected abbot, and one of his first acts seems 
 to have been to institute a register of the things 
 done under his second prelacy. This register, when 
 it was commenced, had probably no other object 
 than to record transactions relating to the affairs of 
 the abbey ; but it was not long before political 
 events of the highest magnitude were related along 
 with them. For in the year 1455 the fires of civil 
 war, which had long been smouldering, at length 
 burst into a flame, and the first battle between the 
 Red Rose and the White was fought in the streets 
 of St. Alban's under the very walls, one might say, 
 of the monastery. This fact leads the writer to a 
 review of the causes of the war, and from that date 
 to the close of the register in 14.61, after the battle 
 of Towton and the attainder of the Lancastrians 
 under Edward IV., there are a number of very 
 valuable notices of the events of that troubled 
 period. 
 
 The age of monastic chronicles had now really 
 passed away. Only one composition of the kind — 
 the Chronicle of Croyland with its four continua- 
 tions — went beyond the history of Walsingham 
 and dragged on a fitful existence to the accession 
 of King Henry VII. That, too, is an important 
 
 ENG. T 
 
274 lEarlj! ©Stoniclerg of lEnglant). 
 
 source of history, but mainly for the times of 
 Edward IV. and Richard III. To whatever cause 
 we may attribute the fact — relaxation of discipline, 
 the growth of commerce, or the use of other agen- 
 cies — monasticism had even now lost considerablyits 
 hold upon the world. Amid the political confusions 
 of the times the writing of current history seems 
 to have been forgotten. One part of England, 
 very probably, knew little of what was doing some- 
 where else, and there were no longer monkish 
 scribes in direct communication with the court, 
 who could not only collect but weigh the value 
 of intelligence from every quarter of the world. 
 Moreover, as to the history of past times, one very 
 celebrated chronicle of which we have yet to speak 
 had so completely superseded all former efforts of 
 the kind that it seemed utterly unnecessary to do 
 more in this respect than multiply copies of the 
 Polychronicon. 
 
 This was the work of Ralph Higden, a monk in 
 the wealthy abbey of St. Werburgh, Chester, who, 
 in the reign of Edward III., formed a grander design 
 of a universal history than the world had yet seen 
 realised. The library of St. Werburgh's was well 
 stocked with books, not only on history but on 
 geography, topography, natural history, and every 
 department of human knowledge. Higden himself 
 was a literary glutton who devoured all kinds of 
 literature, and he laid all the stores of ancient and 
 modern learning under contribution for a com- 
 plete history of the world. He lived to a good old 
 
^gtien'g ^olgdjronucm. 275 
 
 age and was able to complete his extraordinary 
 undertaking; but beyond these facts we hardly 
 know anything whatever of his personal history. 
 He was born, it is said, somewhere in the west of 
 England, but in what precise year we have no 
 means of ascertaining. He is believed to have 
 taken monastic vows in or about the year 1299, 
 and according to a note in an early manuscript he 
 died in 1363.* From his own writings it appears 
 that he had travelled so far as to be familiar with 
 Derbyshire, Shropshire, and Lancashire ; but there 
 is no satisfactory evidence that he ever visited 
 foreign countries. All the information he possessed 
 about them was derived from books alone. 
 
 The title that he gave to his work is explained 
 by himself to mean that it is a history of many 
 periods or ages. It was undertaken at the request 
 of his fellow monks, to whom his comprehensive 
 intellect and his peculiar fitness for the task of an 
 historian must have been well known. He himself 
 had at first proposed to compile from various 
 sources a history of his native country, but he 
 was encouraged to enlarge the scope of the work 
 and make it a universal history. He divided the 
 whole into seven books, after the example, he says, 
 of the First Worker, who made everything in six 
 
 * Which probably means 1364 by our modern computation, as 
 the time of year, according to Bale, was about the feast of St. 
 Gregory, i.e. about March 12. This point has been overlooked by 
 Professor Babington in his interesting introduction to the Polychro- 
 nicon. 
 
276 lEarlg ©fjronute of lEnglanfc. 
 
 days and rested on the seventh. He also aimed at 
 a more perfect system of chronology, noting the 
 dates of events according to more than one com- 
 putation of years ; and he points out in an early 
 chapter some of the errors of former systems. He 
 begins by explaining the plan of the work and 
 giving a catalogue of his authorities. He also warns 
 the reader that certainty in historical matters is not 
 always to be looked for, and that he cannot abso- 
 lutely guarantee the truth of everything he relates. 
 For even the Apostle, he observes, does not say, 
 " Whatsoever things were written are necessarily 
 true," but only "Whatsoever things were written 
 were written for our learning." (Rom. xv. 4.) At 
 the same time it would be wrong to reject every- 
 thing wonderful as if it were on that very account 
 incredible. He will therefore simply reproduce in 
 his own words the information derived from other 
 writers, shielding himself against responsibility by 
 naming the authors he has followed at the head of 
 every chapter ; and any observations of his own 
 that he may think fit to introduce he will distin- 
 guish by an initial R. 
 
 With these and some other preliminary remarks 
 he begins first an account of the dimensions of the 
 habitable world, derived from Ptolemy and a writer 
 called Priscianus, by which he is led to infer that 
 the circumference of the whole earth is 20,040 
 miles, giving a diameter of nearly 6500 miles, or 
 more exactly, 6491 ; so that from the centre of 
 the earth to the surface should be 3245 miles and 
 
P^igton'ss $3oIgri)rcmicoit, 277 
 
 a fraction of a mile over. And this, if the current 
 belief was true as to the position of hell, must be 
 the distance of that world of woe from the surface 
 of our earth. He then goes on to describe from 
 St. Augustine, Bede, Pliny, and others, the bounda- 
 ries and extent of Europe, Asia, and Africa, their 
 climates and their populations, the Mediterranean 
 Sea, and the ocean which encircled the world, the 
 different provinces of the earth, and the physical 
 geography of each. In the course of this survey 
 he is led to a disquisition concerning the situation 
 of Paradise, which, following the opinion of the 
 French divine, Petrus Comestor, he considers 
 not to have been submerged with the rest of the 
 world in Noah's flood. In his account of India, 
 along with much fabulous matter about extraordi- 
 nary dragons and the battles of pigmies and cranes, 
 men with the heads of dogs, and other monsters, 
 he speaks of the institutions of caste and widow- 
 burning. He then devotes a chapter to the wonders 
 of ancient and modern Rome, and another to the 
 institutions of the ancient Romans. Then follows 
 a lengthened description of the countries of modern 
 Europe, their inhabitants, and their principal pro- 
 ducts. The chapters devoted to this part of the 
 work are of very unequal interest ; but as a speci- 
 men of the facts contained in them, it is mentioned 
 that Brabant was then famous for the dyeing of 
 wool, which it received from England and trans- 
 mitted to other countries. Although England pro- 
 duced the best of wools, it had not water suitable 
 
27S leads ©fjrontclerg of lEnglanti. 
 
 for dyeing. There was, however, a well at London, 
 and a particular place in the river which passed 
 through Lincoln, which enabled the dyers to pro- 
 duce a very beautiful scarlet. 
 
 After his account of the different countries on 
 the continent of Europe, and of the islands of 
 the Mediterranean and the Atlantic Ocean, he 
 devotes four chapters to Ireland, the information 
 in which is derived from Giraldus Cambrensis, one 
 to Scotland, and one to Wales. At last he comes 
 to his own country, and concludes the first of his 
 seven books with twenty-two chapters upon the 
 geography, climate, physical characteristics, and 
 natural wealth of England, its political and eccle- 
 siastical divisions, its original inhabitants, and the 
 language and manners of the natives. 
 
 It is unnecessary to describe the other six books 
 at so much length. The really historical part of 
 the work commences with the second, which con- 
 tains a history of the world, from the Creation to 
 the destruction of the Temple at Jerusalem by 
 Nebuchadnezzar. The third extends from the 
 Babylonish captivity to the birth of Christ. The 
 fourth ends with the coming of the Saxons into 
 England. The fifth continues the narrative to the 
 invasion of the Danes. The sixth concludes with 
 the Norman Conquest. And the seventh carries 
 down the story to Higden's own time, the middle 
 of the reign of Edward III. But the work is of 
 no great value, even in the latter part, as an original 
 authority, and little reference has been made to it 
 
3Jo5n fflxitUzs. 279 
 
 by any of our modern historians. Its real interest 
 lies in the view it affords of the historical, geo- 
 graphic, and scientific knowledge of the age in 
 which it appeared. No work was ever so wonder- 
 fully popular. No such voluminous, exhaustive, 
 and interesting history, had ever yet been written. 
 It was reproduced certainly by more than a hun* 
 dred copyists within a century after its publication. 
 It was translated into English by more than one 
 person. An epitome of it issued from Caxton's 
 press as early as 1480. Two years later, Caxton 
 published the work itself in Trevisa's English 
 translation. Another edition appeared in 1483 ; 
 and later editions still were issued by Wynkyn de 
 Worde and others in the end of the fifteenth and 
 early part of the following century. 
 
 John Trevisa, Higden's translator, was a Cornish 
 man, who had studied at Oxford, and was a fellow 
 of Queen's College there. He was vicar of 
 Berkeley, in Gloucestershire, and canon of the 
 collegiate church of Westbury, but whether this 
 was Westbury in Gloucestershire, or the place of 
 the same name in Wiltshire is uncertain. He had 
 travelled in foreign countries ; and in a treatise 
 which he wrote on the hot springs of Bath he 
 speaks of having bathed in those of Aix la 
 Chapelies, and Aix in Savoy, the former of which 
 places he calls Akon, and the latter Egges. He 
 seems to have devoted much time to literary 
 pursuits, and translation of good works was his 
 special delight. Among his original writings is a 
 
ISarlg ©Ijronfrfrrg of 1£n<jlanti. 
 
 dialogue on translation between a lord and a clerk, 
 who are to be understood as representing his patron, 
 Lord Berkeley, and himself. Caxton says that he 
 also made a translation of the Bible ; of which no 
 manuscript is known to exist, though one, perhaps, 
 may be at this day in the Vatican at Rome. He 
 translated Occam's celebrated dialogue between 
 a soldier and a clergyman, concerning the limits of 
 papal and imperial power. He also translated a 
 sermon preached by Fitzralph, archbishop of 
 Armagh, at Oxford, in 1 357, against the mendicant 
 friars. He dedicated his translation of the Poly- 
 chronicon to his patron, Thomas, Lord Berkeley, 
 whose chaplain he styles himself. It was finished, 
 as he particularly informs us, on Thursday, the 
 1 8th day of April, 1387, being the tenth year of 
 Richard II., and "the yere of my lordes age, Sir 
 Thomas, lord of Berkeley, that made me make this 
 translacion, fyve and thyrtty." By some strange 
 error, Caxton, who printed the work a century 
 later, misread the date 1387 as 1357, and to make 
 the rest correspond, corrected the tenth year of 
 Richard II. into the thirty-first of Edward III. 
 He was misled, apparently, by the fact that 1357 
 is the last year mentioned in the narrative ; but 
 the events actually recorded come down as late 
 as 1360. Caxton, however, printed the work, not 
 exactly as he found it, but, as he tells us, " a lytel 
 embelysshed fro th'olde makyng," and added a 
 continuation to the accession of Edward IV. In 
 the course of little more than a century it seems 
 
3JoJjn Ztebizs. 
 
 Trevisa's language had become so antiquated that 
 Caxton felt it necessary to change "the rude and 
 old Englyssh, that is to wete, certayn wordes which 
 in these days be neither usyd ne understanden." 
 It is a curious fact in the history of our language 
 that English of the time of Chaucer had already 
 become to a great extent unintelligible in the days 
 of Edward IV. 
 
 It cannot be said that either the work of Trevisa, 
 or the continuation of it by Caxton is of much 
 value or interest now-a-days, except in a philo- 
 logical point of view. Even as a translation the 
 former possesses no great merit ; for Trevisa was 
 not a man of much scholarship, and he himself 
 makes the very candid confession, " Though I can 
 speke, rede, and understande Latyn, there is moche 
 Latyn in these books of Cronykes that I cannot 
 understonde, nether thou, without studyeng, avise- 
 ment, and lokyng of other bookes." This is the 
 more remarkable, as Higden's Latin is really very 
 good, and not by any means difficult of compre- 
 hension. If it had been more like the Latin of the 
 mass-book, or the ordinary Latin of the cloister, 
 doubtless Trevisa would have understood it better ; 
 but a solitary country clergyman in those days 
 could not be expected to be familiar with classical 
 models, or to have many opportunities for the 
 " lokyng of other books." 
 
 We have thus carried the records of the monks, 
 down to the era of printing ; and we may note 
 it as a symptom of the decline of the monastic 
 
lEarlg ©Ijromefcrg of lEnglanb. 
 
 chronicle that even before that date there seems 
 to have been a large demand for histories written 
 in English instead of Latin. It is a remarkable 
 fact that while so many editions of Trevisa's 
 translation of Higden issued from the press of 
 Caxton and his immediate successors the Latin 
 text of the Polychronico?i has never to this day- 
 been printed in its entirety.* If monkish litera- 
 ture had not already received its death blow, the 
 appearance of the printing press must inevitably 
 have sealed its fate. And yet it perhaps speaks 
 something for the life of monasticism, only sixty 
 years before its final extinction, that the father of 
 English printing was encouraged to set up his press 
 within the precincts of Westminster Abbey. He was, 
 it is true, only the abbot's tenant, living in the 
 aimonry outside the abbey gates. When he talks 
 of his works being printed " in the abbey," he only 
 means, within the abbey precincts. But it is 
 highly probable that his labours met with cheerful 
 recognition and encouragement from a community 
 in which the work of the copyist was now plainly 
 superseded. That, indeed, was dreary work at the 
 best, and hosts of clerical errors in some of their 
 productions bear witness how it dulled the brain ; 
 so that we need not wonder if the monks at West- 
 minster were tired of it. Apparently even the 
 deciphering of earlier writings was not much 
 
 * An edition of the Latin text accompanied by Trevisa's and 
 another old English translation is at this time in process of publica- 
 tion in the Rolls series. 
 
STOtam ©aiton. 283 
 
 practised among them then, and Caxton's services 
 were sometimes called to help in it. " My lord 
 abbot of Westmynster," he tells us in his preface 
 to the Eneydos, " did do shewe to me late certayn 
 evydences wryten in old Englisshe, for to reduce it 
 into our Englisshe now usid."* 
 
 Caxton, therefore, may in one point of view be 
 considered the successor of the monastic scribe 
 and copyist. And not only did he multiply by 
 his press the copies of Trevisds Higden ; but he 
 also published in the very same year, a chronicle 
 of his own, founded on the old Chronicle of the 
 Brute, which he continued to the accession of 
 Edward IV. and the battle of Towton in 1461. 
 The first printer, therefore, at once took the place 
 not only of the monastic scribe but also of the 
 monastic chronicler. 
 
 * Quoted by Mr. Blades in Biography of Caxton, 74. (ed. 1S77.) 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 RECORDS OF THE CITY. 
 
 The Liber de Antiquis Legibus — French Chronicle of London — The 
 Liber Albus — The Chronicle of Londoit — Gregory's Chronicle — 
 Account of Jack Cade's rebellion — Adventures of Margaret of 
 Anjou — The Mayor of Bristol's Kalendar — Fabyan's Concord- 
 ance of Llistories — M ore's History of Richard III. — Extract — 
 Shakespeare dramatised More's works — Harding's Chronicle — 
 Hall's Chronicle — Polydore Vergil's History — Grafton's historical 
 works — John Stow — His Summary, his Chronicle, and his Survey 
 of London — Ireland — Holinsheds Chronicle — Sources of Shakes- 
 peare's historical plays. 
 
 In the record room of the Guildhall of London 
 is an ancient manuscript, known as the Liber 
 de Antiquis Legibus. It is a folio volume of 
 very miscellaneous contents, compiled, however, 
 as we may reasonably judge, for the purpose 
 indicated by its title — to preserve a record of the 
 laws, privileges, and liberties of the city. The 
 date of its composition appears to have been at 
 the commencement of the reign of Edward I., 
 when the contents were systematically divided 
 into chapters, with an index prefixed. But the 
 first chapter and three others in the body of the 
 manuscript were left blank by the compiler, 
 
SoniJon ©i)?cmteleg. 285 
 
 and the space allotted to them was used at 
 a later date for the insertion of other matters. 
 Only two of the chapters properly constitute that 
 book of ancient laws from which the volume derives 
 its name. But among the other matters, are ex- 
 tracts from the English history of William ol 
 Malmesbury, and a later Chronicle * of the mayors 
 and sheriffs of London, with the events which 
 occurred in each mayoralty, from the first year of 
 Richard Cceur de Lion, when the city was incor- 
 porated, to the year 1274, where the record ends 
 with an account of the preparations for Edward 
 the First's coronation. 
 
 This is the earliest of a number of city chronicles, 
 which continued for centuries to be composed in the 
 same form, or nearly so. They were drawn up in 
 the shape of annals, with the names of the mayor 
 and sheriffs for each year at the head of the record 
 of that year's transactions. This earliest chronicle, 
 however, differs slightly from its successors, in 
 exhibiting only the sheriffs' names at the head ot 
 the year, and mentioning the names of the mayor 
 elected in the text. It is devoted also, for the 
 most part, to civic events, which, however, are 
 of course in some cases of considerable political 
 importance. At the commencement, indeed, the 
 record of many years is left blank, and nothing but 
 the names of the sheriffs is given. But in the 
 
 * Published by the Camden Society. Edited by Thomas Staple- 
 ton, Esq. 
 
286 lEatlg ©ftronickrg of lEnglant). 
 
 reign of Henry III. the annals become of more 
 general interest, owing to the important part taken 
 by the city of London in the struggle between the 
 king and his barons ; and besides a summary of 
 events, a number of royal letters and other docu- 
 ments are quoted in the text. 
 
 A French Chronicle of London, published like 
 the preceding by the Camden Society,* extends 
 from the forty- fourth year of Henry III., to the 
 seventeenth of Edward III. French was at that 
 time the language of the king's court, and of the 
 courts of law. This chronicle seems to be quite 
 independent of the preceding. It is difficult to say 
 from what sources the earlier part was compiled, 
 in which we find the insults offered by the citizens 
 to Eleanor of Provence, the queen of Henry III., 
 attributed to their resentment of her cruelly having 
 put to death the fair Rosamond ! A slight con- 
 fusion this between the reign of Henry III., and 
 that of Henry II., each of whom happened to 
 have a queen named Eleanor. Nevertheless, this 
 chronicle seems to have been composed with care, 
 and its statements are generally accurate. 
 
 The preservation of such records must have been 
 important to the civic authorities for the protection 
 and maintenance of municipal rights. The city 
 liberties were on various pretences repeatedly seized 
 by King Henry III., and King Edward I., who 
 imprisoned the mayor and other leading citizens, 
 and placed the city under the control of a custos 
 
 * Edited by George James Aungier. 
 
Sontion ©Srontcfess. 287 
 
 or warden. Yet these things were not done with- 
 out strong remonstrances and appeals to ancient 
 custom. The city had its own officers, its own laws, 
 and its own system of jurisprudence — all parts 
 of an unwritten constitution, founded upon the 
 charters of several kings, beginning with the 
 Conqueror. No complete account of its laws 
 and usages seems to have been compiled till the 
 beginning of the fifteenth century. But the two 
 great pestilences which visited England in the 
 reign of Edward III. suggested strongly the ex- 
 pediency that such a work should be undertaken ; 
 for all the old and experienced men were then cut 
 off, and those who succeeded them in the govern- 
 ment of the city were often at a loss for want of 
 written directions and precedents how to act. Still 
 the labour was an arduous one, and was long 
 delayed. But at length, in the year 1419, in the 
 third mayoralty of the celebrated Richard Whit- 
 tington, what is called the Liber Aldus of the 
 city of London was composed by the town clerk, 
 John Carpenter ; and from its pages we derive a 
 very remarkable mass of information, not only as 
 to the rights and liberties of the city, but also as to 
 its ancient social condition and customs. The sub- 
 stance of these revelations is given by Mr. Riley, 
 who edited this volume for the Master of the Rolls, 
 in an introduction of considerable length. 
 
 After this we meet with chronicles of the city of 
 London written in English, on the same model as 
 those earlier ones in Latin and in French. One of 
 
288 lEarlg ©JEjronulerg of lEngTanD. 
 
 these, published by Sir Harris Nicolas in 1827, 
 under the title The Chronicle of London, appears 
 to have been compiled in the reign of Henry VI., 
 and afterwards continued to the death of Edward 
 IV. Another *, derived from much the same 
 materials as far as the reign of Richard II., appears 
 to have been the work of William Gregory, skinner, 
 who was made lord mayor in 145 1, the year after 
 Jack Cade's rebellion ; but it was continued by 
 another hand, at least half way through the reign 
 of Edward IV., and the only known manuscript 
 of it which we possess, ends abruptly in 1469, in the 
 middle of a sentence, some leaves being lost. Both 
 the part written by Gregory and the continuation 
 are very interesting. We may give as a specimen 
 of the former, a brief extract from the account of 
 Cade's insurrection, of which the writer must have 
 been an eye-witness ; reducing it as far as possible 
 to modern spelling, for the sake of clearness : — 
 
 "And upon the morrow he came with a great host into 
 Southwark, and at the White Hart he took his lodging. 
 And upon the morrow, that was the Friday, against even, 
 they smote asunder the ropes of the drawbridge and fought 
 sore and manly, and many a man was murdered and killed 
 in that conflict, I wot not what to name it for the multitude 
 of riff-raff. And then they entered into the city of London 
 as men that had been half beside their wits ; and in that 
 fury-ness they went, as they said, for the common weal of the 
 realm of England, even straight into a merchant's place 
 y-named Philip Malpas. of London. If it were true as they 
 
 * Edited by myself for the Camden Society, in a volume entitled 
 The Historical Collections of a London Citizen. 
 
Sontion ©Ijronicfeg. 289 
 
 surmised after their doing I remit me to ink and paper. — 
 Dens scit, et ego non. But well I wot that every ill beginning 
 most commonly hath an ill ending, and every good beginning 
 hath very good ending (Proverbium : — Felix firincipium 
 finem facit esse beatuni). And that Philip Malpas was 
 alderman, and thev spoiled him, and bare away much good of 
 his, and in special much money, both of silver and gold, the 
 value of a notable sum, and in special of merchandise, as of tin, 
 wood, madder, and alum, with great quantity of woollen cloth 
 and many rich jewels, with other notable stuff of feather beds, 
 bedding, napery, and many a rich cloth of arras to the value 
 of a notable sum — Nescio, sed Deus omnia scit. And in the 
 evening they went with their simple captain to his lodgings. 
 But a certain (a few) of his simpler and rude many abode 
 there all the night, weening to them that they had wit and 
 wisdom for to have guided or put in guiding all England, all 
 so soon as they had got the city of London by a mishap of 
 cutting of two sorry cords that now be altered and made two 
 strong chains of iron unto the drawbridge of London. But 
 they had other men with them, as well of London as of their 
 own party ; and by them of one part and of that other part 
 they left nothing unsought, and they searched all that night. 
 
 " And in the morn he came again, that sorry and simple 
 and rebellious captain, with his many. That was Saturday ; 
 and it was also St. Martin's Day, the dedication of St. Martin 
 in the Vintry, the 4th day of July. And then divers guests 
 were y-summoned at the Guildhall ; and there Robert Home, 
 being alderman, was arrested and brought into Newgate. 
 And that same day William Crowmer, squire and sheriff of 
 Kent, was beheaded in the field without Aldgate, at the Mile's 
 end, beside Clopton's place ; and another man, that was 
 named John Bayle, was beheaded at the White Chapel. And 
 the same day afternoon was beheaded in Cheap, afore the 
 the Standard, Sir James Fynes, being at that time the lord 
 Saye and great treasurer of England ; the which was brought 
 out of the Tower of London unto the Guildhall, and there of 
 divers treasons he was examined, of which he acknowledged 
 
 ENG. U 
 
290 3EarIg ©ftrontcletg of lEnglatrt). 
 
 the death of that notable and famous prince, the duke of 
 Gloucester.* And then they brought him unto the Standard, 
 in Cheap, and there he received his jewys (dues i) and his 
 death. And so forth all the three heads that day smitten off 
 were set upon the bridge of London, and the two other heads 
 taken down that stood upon the London Bridge before." 
 
 This is not the work of a cultivated author, but 
 it is the writing of a man who has evidently him- 
 self witnessed the scenes he describes, and writes 
 from personal knowledge. Equally interesting, in 
 some parts, is the work of the continuator, whose 
 information is generally quite as good, though 
 perhaps he is not quite so frequently an eye-witness. 
 Take, for example, the following account of some 
 of the less known passages in the life of Margaret 
 of Anjou — her adventures after the defeat of her 
 party at the battle of Northampton : — 
 
 " And then, the queen hearing this, she voided unto Wales ; 
 but she was met with beside the castle of Malpas ; and a 
 servant of her own, that she had made both yeoman and 
 gentleman, and after appointed for to be in office with her 
 son, the prince, spoiled her and robbed her, and put her so 
 in doubt of her life and son's life also. And then she came 
 to the castle of Hardelowe (Harlech), in Wales ; and she 
 had many great gifts and [was] greatly comforted, for she 
 had need thereof, for she had a full easy many {i.e. a very 
 small company) about her, the number of four persons. And 
 most commonly she rode behind a young, poor gentleman 
 of fourteen years' age ; his name was John Combe, y-born 
 at Amesbury, in Wiltshire. And there hence she removed 
 privily unto the Lord Jasper, lord and earl of Pembroke, 
 for she durst not abide in no place that [was] open, but in 
 
 * Popularly called "the good duke Humphrey." 
 
% Bristol Chronicle. 291 
 
 private. The cause was that counterfeit tokens were sent 
 unto her as though that they had come from her most 
 dread lord, the king, Harry the Sixth ; but it was not of his 
 sending, neither of [his] doing, but forged things. For 
 they that brought the tokens were of the king's house, and 
 some of the prince's house, and some of her own house, and 
 bade her beware of the tokens, that she gave no credence 
 thereto ; for at the king's departing fro Coventry toward 
 the field of Northampton, he kissed her and blessed the 
 prince, and commanded her that she should not come unto 
 him till that [he] sent a special token unto her that no man 
 knew but the king and she. For the lords would fain [have] 
 had her unto London, for they knew well that all the 
 workings that were done grew by her ; for she was more 
 wittier than the king, and that appeareth by his deeds, etc." 
 
 Of city chronicles like these there seem to have 
 been several, both in London and elsewhere, to- 
 wards the end of the fifteenth century. Bristol, 
 we know, had its chronicle, called the Mayor of 
 Bristol's Kalendar* compiled in the same form 
 as London Chronicles by Robert Ricart, town clerk 
 of Bristol, in the reign of Edward IV. This work 
 was continued by other hands, even to the reign of 
 James I., and desultory entries added as late as the 
 close of the seventeenth century. Almost ail of 
 these chronicles, however, are mere dry records of 
 events under the several years, seldom containing 
 anything so interesting as the two extracts we 
 have quoted from Gregory. And so long as the 
 city chronicle adhered to the old form of annals 
 little more was to be expected from it. Although 
 the city had become in the course of centuries 
 
 * Edited by Miss Toulmin Smith for the Camden Society. 
 
292 lEarlg ©Jjtontckrg of icnojant). 
 
 more and more of a political centre, although the 
 spread of education had lessened the disparity in 
 literary power between monk and layman — yet 
 the decline in the old monastic history was certainly 
 not compensated by an equal gain in the civic 
 chronicle till the Middle Ages had fairly passed 
 away. One work of the kind, however, towards the 
 close of this period, is of wider scope and of some- 
 what greater literary pretensions than its fellows. 
 
 Robert Fabyan, alderman of London, a member 
 of the Drapers' company conceived a grander 
 design than a mere collection of city annals. His 
 object was to compose what he called a Concorda7tce 
 of Histories, which, though mainly devoted to the 
 affairs of England, had sections entirely occupied 
 with those of France. The work begins with the 
 arrival of Brutus, and is divided into seven parts ; 
 but the first four parts are exceedingly brief, and 
 even the fifth, which is longer, only comes down 
 to Cadwallader, and the sixth to the Battle of 
 Hastings ; so that the whole history of England 
 and of other countries from William the Con- 
 queror to the days of the Tudors is contained in 
 the seventh part. It was an elaborate work, com- 
 piled with very great care, from a great variety 
 of authors, both English and French. Original 
 verses also were inserted in various places, many 
 of them being merely addressed to the Virgin at 
 the beginning or end of a part, but some, like 
 the complaint of King Edward II., having real 
 reference to the history. No one, however, will 
 
ifaftgan'g ©Jjtontcle. 293 
 
 greatly" commend these as poetry. But in the 
 main he based the part of his narrative devoted 
 to English history upon city annals of an earlier 
 date like those of Gregory, and preserved the 
 same form, heading the record of each year with 
 the names of the mayor and sheriffs of that year. 
 
 Of the personal history of Fabyan very little is 
 known, but it is believed he was of a good Essex 
 family, though he himself is said to have been born 
 in London. He was made sheriff of London in 
 1493, and three years later was appointed one of 
 a deputation from the city to petition the king 
 for redress of certain new impositions levied on 
 English cloth in the Low Countries. In 1497 he 
 was one of those commissioned to keep the city 
 gates in case the Cornish rebels should march on 
 London. In 1502 he resigned his alderman's gown 
 on the pretext of poverty, though he seems to 
 have been in very good circumstances, to avoid 
 taking upon himself the office of mayor. He died 
 on the 28th February, 15 13, and his will was proved 
 in July following. 
 
 His chronicle was named by himself The Con- 
 cordance of Histories, but was first printed by 
 Pynson, in 15 16, with the title The New Chronicles 
 of England and France. This first edition is very 
 rare. Many copies, it is said, were burnt by 
 Cardinal Wolsey's order as reflecting on the ex- 
 cessive wealth of the clergy ; but the statement 
 is not very well attested. This edition brings 
 down the English history to the battle of Bosworth 
 
294 lEarlg ©Jrontderg of lEnglanti. 
 
 in 1485, and the French to the year 1495, with a 
 notice of the death of Henry VII. in 1509 upon 
 a separate leaf. A second edition, printed by 
 Rastell, in 1533, contains the whole reign of 
 Henry VII., which there is some reason to believe, 
 notwithstanding its former omission, is by Fabyan 
 himself. But later editions contained continuations 
 by other hands into the reigns of Henry VIII. and 
 Queen Elizabeth. 
 
 Still, the city chronicle had not yet attained any 
 high degree of literary merit ; nor, indeed, did it 
 ever do so while it retained the form of a city 
 chronicle at all. But within a few months after 
 Fabyan's death the great Sir Thomas More, then 
 under-sheriff of London, wrote in Latin and in 
 English a brief history of Richard III.* which, 
 though he left it, after all, a mere unfinished frag- 
 ment, was adopted and incorporated with their 
 works by all succeeding chroniclers for more than 
 a hundred years, as the only adequate account 
 of that extraordinary usurper. This is, indeed, 
 the fountain-head of a great deal of our informa- 
 tion, not exactly about the reign of Richard III., 
 for it is carried little further than his coronation 
 
 * It is said to have been written in the year 15 13, when More was 
 under-sheriff of London. If the statement means that it was 
 completed in that year, we must understand it according to the old 
 computation by which the year 15 13 ended on the 24th March of 
 what we should call the year 15 14. For in the beginning of the 
 work More speaks of Thomas, Lord Howard, as "afterwards earl of 
 Surrey," who was so created on the 1st February, 1514, for his 
 services at Flodden Field. 
 
fttamf* Mtc&arti III. 295 
 
 and the murder of the princes, but about the 
 manner in which he paved his way to the throne. 
 The story is told with consummate art, and it 
 must certainly have been owing either to great 
 indifference to his own literary reputation or to the 
 pressure of occupations of a different nature that 
 the author never completed a work of such remark- 
 able merit. 
 
 That More's account of this monster in human 
 shape is somewhat highly coloured, might be 
 admitted without prejudice to the literary character 
 of the work. The very characteristics which, in 
 one point of view, are a proof of genius, may some- 
 times detract from the character of an author as 
 a judicious and impartial historian. And it must 
 be acknowledged that not only does More's History 
 contain statements here and there which are not 
 severely accurate, but his exaggerations are 
 occasionally tinged with the superstition of the 
 age to an extent we should hardly have expected 
 in a man of so much wisdom. This will be apparent 
 in the passage we are about to quote, containing 
 a personal portrait of Richard himself. Yet it 
 may be observed, that while the calm judicial mind 
 seeks always to estimate each statement at its 
 proper value, the narrative of a true historian ought 
 undoubtedly to reflect the follies and superstitions 
 of the time quite as much as the mature judgment 
 of the author. Nay, these things are even more 
 important, it may be said, than an absolutely 
 correct view of the facts. More's History of 
 
296 lEarlg ©Jiromckrs of UnglanD. 
 
 Richard III. is, from this point of view, all the 
 more perfect a work of art because it contains 
 stories of omens and suggestions of monstrous 
 physical combinations not altogether discredited 
 by the author himself, besides imputations of 
 witchcraft put into the mouth of the leading 
 personage at the council table. It is in these 
 touches more than anywhere else that we discern 
 symptoms of the intellectual and moral degradation 
 of an age of civil war, usurpation, and anarchy. 
 
 The following is More's picture of the usurper. 
 After a notice of the duke of York his father, and 
 of his two elder brothers Edward IV. and the 
 duke of Clarence, the writer goes on to say — 
 
 " Richard, the third son, of whom we now entreat, was in 
 wit and courage equal with either of them ; in body and 
 prowess, far under them both ; little of stature, ill-featured of 
 limbs, crook-backed, his left shoulder much higher than 
 his right, hard favoured of visage, and such as is in states * 
 called warly, in other men otherwise. He was malicious, 
 wrathful, envious, and from before his birth ever froward. 
 It is for truth reported that the duchess, his mother, had 
 so much ado in her travail that she could not be delivered 
 of him uncut ; and that he came into the world with 
 the feet forward, as men be borne outward, and (as the 
 fame runneth) also not untoothed ; whether men, of hatred, 
 report above the truth, or else that nature changed her 
 course in his beginning, who in the course of his life many 
 things unnaturally committed. None evil captain was he 
 in the war, as to which his disposition was more metely 
 than for peace. Sundry victories had he, and sometimes 
 overthrows, but never in default of his own person, either of 
 hardiness or of politic order. Free was he called of dispence, 
 
 * Men of high position. 
 
iHfow'ss KtcfcarD Itt 297 
 
 and somewhat above his power liberal ; with large gifts he 
 gat him unsteadfast friendship, for which he was fain to pill 
 and spoil in other places, and get him steadfast hatred. He 
 was close and secret, a deep dissembler, lowly of countenance, 
 arrogant of heart, outwardly companionable where he in- 
 wardly hated, not letting to kiss whom he thought to kill ; 
 dispiteous and cruel, not for evil will alway, but after (? ofter) 
 for ambition, and either for the surety or increase of his 
 estate. Friend and foe was muchwhat indifferent where his 
 advantage grew ; he spared no man's death whose life with- 
 stood his purpose." 
 
 Such vigorous writing as this naturally gave a 
 new turn to history. The figure of Richard III., 
 in all its moral and physical deformity, was from 
 that time indelibly stamped upon literature ; and 
 so were its dark surroundings of legend, witchcraft, 
 and superstition. No other picture of the man, no 
 other account of his extraordinary usurpation, was 
 known to the reading public. Shakespeare himself 
 could do no more than dramatise what More had 
 depicted so vividly in words. And how entirely 
 Shakespeare followed the guidance of Sir Thomas 
 is evident on the most cursory perusal of the 
 history and the play. Perhaps the best example of 
 this will be found in the celebrated scene in council 
 at the Tower, in which the Protector orders Hastings 
 to be beheaded. Here in the history we have the 
 very same scene in all its details. The lords are 
 first assembled in council, " devising the honour- 
 able solemnity of the king's coronation." The 
 Protector comes in among them about nine o'clock, 
 " excusing himself that he had been from them so 
 
298 laarlg ©Jjtcmiclfrg of lEnglanfc. 
 
 long, saying merrily that he had been asleep that 
 day." He compliments the Bishop of Ely on his 
 fine strawberries at Holborn, and requests him to 
 send for some. He then gets the lords into con- 
 versation with each other, and praying them to 
 spare him for a little while, leaves the council. He 
 returns with an altered countenance, knitting his 
 brows and biting his lips. He asks "what were 
 they worthy to have that compass the destruction of 
 me, being so near of blood unto the king ? " He is 
 answered by Hastings, " who, for the love between 
 them, thought he might be boldest with him." He 
 shows his withered arm, imputing its condition to 
 witchcraft practised by the queen and Jane Shore. 
 Hastings answers with an "if," as in the play, and 
 the catastrophe follows. 
 
 Moreover, after recording the execution of Hast- 
 ings, More goes on to moralize on some tokens of 
 his coming fate, by which he might have taken 
 warning ; and the dramatist puts into the mouth of 
 Hastings himself a last utterance regretting that he 
 had not taken note of them. Lord Stanley had 
 dreamed about a boar that had attacked them both 
 till the blood ran about their shoulders — a signifi- 
 cant dream, for the boar was King Richard's cog- 
 nizance. Hastings himself, too, had been rallied 
 by a knight on conversing with a priest that morn- 
 ing on his way to the Tower, the knight saying with 
 a jest, "you have no need of a priest yet," as if to 
 intimate " you shall have soon." Yet at the Tower 
 wharf he met with a pursuivant to whom he 
 
JWow** &tcijarti HI. 299 
 
 enigmatically boasted of a triumph he was soon to 
 have over his enemies of the queen's kindred when 
 the axe hung over his own head. All these 
 incidents, recounted by More at considerable length, 
 are condensed by Shakespeare into a few lines. 
 
 The history of Richard III. was first published 
 in the year 1543, not as a separate work, but as 
 part of a prose continuation to the rhyming 
 chronicle of Harding, by Richard Grafton, an 
 industrious printer and collecter of chronicles in the 
 reign of Henry VIII. Grafton afterwards printed 
 it again in his publication of what is commonly 
 called Hall's Chronicle, and again in a chronicle 
 known by his own name. But although the debt 
 of the compiler to Sir Thomas More was acknow- 
 ledged in each of these cases by marginal notes, 
 the language was a good deal altered in parts, and 
 the genuine text was only printed for the first time 
 with More's other English works in 1557. We 
 must now, however, part company with this in- 
 teresting little fragment, and speak of the works 
 with which it was incorporated. 
 
 Hardyng's Chronicle is little more than a literary 
 curiosity. The author, John Hardyng, was a north 
 countryman of good family, who was brought .up 
 in the household of Harry Percy, the celebrated 
 Hotspur, and was with him at the battle of Shrews- 
 bury, when he fell in fighting against Henry IV. 
 He afterwards received a pardon for his share in 
 the rebellion, took service under Sir Robert Umfra- 
 ville, and was made constable ofWarkworth Castle, 
 
300 lEarlg Chroniclers cf lEnglantJ. 
 
 in Northumberland. He took part in the Agin- 
 court campaign of Henry V., and was sent on a 
 secret mission into Scotland, which was attended 
 with considerable danger. He came back maimed, 
 and composed in limping stanzas a rhyming 
 chronicle of English history, which appears to have 
 been written during the minority of Henry VI. 
 Many years afterwards he re-wrote it for Richard, 
 duke of York, the father of Edward IV., and just 
 after the accession of that king, he presented it to 
 Edward himself. The account he gives of the 
 Agincourt campaign is of some interest, but on the 
 whole the work is of little historical value and still 
 less poetical merit. 
 
 Of far greater importance is the chronicle of 
 Edward Hall, a citizen of London in the reign of 
 Henry VIII. The son of a Shropshire gentleman, 
 he himself was born in London, and was sent for 
 his education first to Eton, then to Cambridge, and 
 afterwards, some say, to Oxford. He then entered 
 at Gray's Inn, was called to the bar, became one of 
 the common Serjeants, and afterwards one of the 
 under-sheriffs of the city. In 1533, he was ap- 
 pointed summer reader of Gray's Inn, and in 1540, 
 double reader in Lent, and one of the judges of the 
 sheriff's court. He died in 1547, the year of 
 Henry VIII.'s death. Next year his work was 
 printed by Grafton from the manuscript he had 
 left behind him, with a title which described its 
 objects and scope very completely. It was as 
 follows : — 
 
?i?air:3 ©fironicle. 301 
 
 " The union of the two noble and illustre families of 
 Lancaster and York, being long in continual dissension for 
 the crown of this noble realm ; with all the acts done in 
 both the times of the princes, both of the one lineage and 
 of the other, beginning at the time of King Henry the 
 Fourth, the first author of this division, and so successively 
 proceeding to the reign of the high and prudent prince, King 
 Henry the Eighth, the indubitate flower and very heir of both 
 the said lineages." 
 
 From these words we can very well appreciate 
 the feeling to which the work owed its origin. To 
 men of peaceful disposition in the reign of Henry 
 VIII., it was a matter of profound satisfaction 
 that their country had at length been emancipated 
 from the bitterness of a century of internal strife 
 and turmoil. The stories repeated from father 
 to son during all that period of the days in which 
 they lived must have had a mournful fascination, — 
 days of intermittent rebellion, of sudden revolu- 
 lution, of government paralysed at times by 
 popular insurrection. No time was ever more full 
 of stirring incident, pleasing to recall when once 
 the danger was past, but suggestive of anxiety to 
 every one so long as the old cause of trouble 
 remained unabated. After so much stormy weather 
 men were glad of the comparative dulness of the 
 reign of Henry VII., with the promise of peace 
 implied in his marriage ; and when that promise 
 was fulfilled by the accession of his son, he was 
 welcomed with a single-minded loyalty such as 
 no English sovereign had before experienced, and 
 few have experienced since. He was, besides, a 
 
3^2 lEarlg ®f)totadtx$ of lEttgiartf). 
 
 king of many captivating qualities, which, together 
 with the blessing of an undisputed succession 
 rendered him the idol of the multitude, and dis- 
 posed even good men to shut their eyes, as far as 
 possible, to his vices. 
 
 It was certainly so with Edward Hall. Lawyers, 
 perhaps, more than any other class of the com- 
 munity, were anxious to preach the duty of loyal 
 obedience to a sovereign whose hereditary right 
 was clear, and who, with all his faults, invariably 
 paid great deference to the forms of the constitu- 
 tion. Even if he unjustly put away his wife, it 
 was by a legal process ; and if he abolished that 
 papal jurisdiction to which men had been accus- 
 tomed to appeal from time immemorial as a 
 supreme tribunal in spiritual matters, in that, too, 
 he had plausible reasons for pretending, at least, 
 that the court was not impartial, and that the 
 unbiassed opinions of learned men throughout 
 Christendom favoured a demand which the Roman 
 pontiff evaded rather than refused. So carefully 
 did Henry consider the law in all he did that he 
 bound the whole body of the lawyers of England 
 to his side as special pleaders — all but the great 
 and good Sir Thomas More ; nor would even he 
 have uttered a word in dissent if he might have 
 been allowed to hold his peace. To the rest sup- 
 port of the king's acts and authority in all things 
 seemed only a religious and loyal duty. 
 
 Hence arose the somewhat excessive vehemence 
 of Hall's Protestantism, his far too devoted vindi- 
 
P?alPg ©frronule. 303 
 
 cation of Henry VIII.'s proceedings, and his painful 
 want of sympathy with martyrs who suffered for 
 conscience' sake. Nevertheless, as a contemporary 
 account of events in the reign of Henry VIII., his 
 chronicle is in every other respect most admirable. 
 In it we often meet with descriptions most minute 
 and graphic, especially of pageants and processions, 
 which occupied a prominent place in the beginning 
 of the reign. Here, too, we have the only original 
 account of the rising of the 'prentices against aliens 
 on Evil May-day ; of the conferences of Cardinal 
 Wolsey with the mayor and aldermen of London 
 to raise money for the king, and of many other 
 things which, it is clear, are described by an eye- 
 witness. As to the antecedent history from the 
 days of Henry IV., it is carefully compiled from 
 the best available authorities, English, French, and 
 German. The style is clear and vigorous. The 
 narrative never halts, but is highly readable 
 throughout. To the modern reader there may 
 seem a slight redundance of words, with Latinisms 
 which have long grown out of date ; and now and 
 then the language is a trifle pompous, as in the 
 opening sentences, in which the author sets forth 
 the object of his work : — 
 
 " What mischief hath insurged in realms by intestine 
 division — what depopulation hath ensued in countries by 
 civil dissension — what detestable murder hath been com- 
 mitted in cities by separate factions — and what calamity hath 
 ensued in famous regions by domestical discord and un- 
 natural controversy — Rome hath felt, Italy can testify, France 
 
304 3Earl5 ©fjromclerg of Hsnglanti, 
 
 can bear witness, Beame (Bohemia) can tell, Scotland may- 
 write, Denmark can show, and especially this noble realm of 
 England can apparently declare and make demonstration." 
 
 But we must remember that the capacities of 
 the English language as a literary medium had as 
 yet been very imperfectly developed. Writing 
 like this was an imitation of classic oratory in 
 which the powers of our vernacular tongue were 
 put to an early trial. It was certainly, in its day, 
 a wonderful example of what might be done in 
 English prose ; nor can we refuse to accord it a 
 certain meed of admiration even now. There has 
 certainly been much pompous English since Hall's 
 day without half so much weight of matter. 
 
 It is not unlikely that Hall was animated to the 
 task of writing his chronicle by the work of an 
 Italian named Polydore Vergil, then living in 
 England, who had composed in very polished Latin 
 a complete history of the country from the earliest 
 times to the death of Henry VII. Throughout the 
 whole course of Hall's narrative occur passages 
 which are simply translated from Polydore, espe- 
 cially during the reign of Henry VII., in which the 
 one work is little more than an English version of 
 the other. Polydore's history was, in fact, a work 
 that could not but have made a marked impression 
 upon the literary world of that day. It was the 
 first fruit of the revival of letters in the field of 
 English history ; and the clearness of the narrative' 
 and classic elegance of the diction were alone suffi-. 
 cient to recommend it to every scholar. But it 
 
^otgDorc Etegtl. 305 
 
 was also a work of really great research. Origin- 
 ally undertaken at the request of Henry VII., the 
 author had devoted very many years to its compo- 
 sition, and it was finally dedicated to Henry VIII. 
 in I533- What was more, it exhibited English 
 affairs from quite a new point of view — that of the 
 intelligent and clear-judging foreigner. To the 
 dismay of English antiquaries, Polydore not only 
 reproduced William of Newburgh's strong judgment 
 as to the absurdity of Geoffrey of Monmouth's 
 history, and the mythical character of Brutus, 
 but backed it up by other arguments of his own 
 from the silence of classical authors and the revela- 
 tions of Gildas as to the non-existence in his day 
 of any native memorials of the past history of the 
 island ; so that the argument really might have 
 seemed absolute and conclusive. Nor was this the 
 only evidence he gave of a vigour of thought and 
 independence of judgment to which the reader of 
 chronicles had for some time been unaccustomed ; 
 but throughout the whole narrative it was apparent 
 that he had not only studied all the available 
 original evidences, but that he had duly weighed 
 their value, and formed his own conclusions. 
 
 His history, however, was most valuable in the 
 latter portion, in which he treated of the events of 
 his own day, and especially of the affairs of Eng- 
 land since he himself had known the country and 
 lived in it. His account of the reign of Henry 
 VII. is the fullest original narrative of the period 
 that we possess ; and so little could the native 
 
 ENG. X 
 
5o6 liarlj! Chroniclers of lEnglantJ. 
 
 historian add to its details that Hall, as we have 
 said, in this portion of his chronicle, was content 
 merely to translate it into English without inter- 
 polating almost a single word of his own or of 
 matter from any other source. 
 
 Polydore Vergil, in fact, was the only contem- 
 porary writer who can be said to have given us 
 anything like an adequate history of the reign of 
 Henry VII. at all. That such a task should have 
 been left to a foreigner is remarkable enough ; but 
 the fact is not altogether unaccountable. Not 
 only had the art of writing history in any form 
 ceased to be cultivated as in former days, but the 
 change of times on the accession of the Tudor 
 dynasty must have been a great discouragement 
 to those who would otherwise have undertaken it. 
 The latest of monastic histories — the Chronicle of 
 Croyland — ends at the accession of Henry VII. with 
 some lame excuses for not continuing further a 
 record of the acts of living men ; but no such 
 scruples seemed to have troubled former chroniclers 
 or even the same writer in the earlier part of his 
 narrative. There v/as certainly something in the 
 new condition of things that produced a feeling 
 of constraint ; and the dull intellects of native 
 writers, accustomed only to record external events, 
 which the contentions of feudal nobles and rival 
 dynasties had produced in unwelcome abundance, 
 could not be expected to penetrate the veil of 
 subtle statesmanship, by which a politic and peace- 
 ful, but watchful and suspicious king, was putting 
 
^olgtiore Vettfl. 307 
 
 an end to the long reign of violence. It required 
 the brain of an Italian to gather the acts of such 
 a reign into a regular narrative, and make their 
 real significance apparent. 
 
 Polydore Vergil was a native of the duchy of 
 Urbino. He had been sent to England by the 
 Pope as sub-collector of Peter's Pence under 
 another Italian, Cardinal Hadrian de Castello, in 
 or shortly before the year 1 503. He was in holy 
 orders, and made himself so acceptable in the 
 country to which he was sent, that he resolved 
 to make it his home. He was appointed Arch- 
 deacon of Wells, and had other English benefices 
 also conferred on him. Besides English history 
 he had written treatises on prodigies, proverbs, 
 inventions, and on moral and theological subjects. 
 He was a friend of the great scholar Erasmus, 
 whom he frequently saw in England, though their 
 friendship seems to have begun in a little soreness 
 on his part, owing to a nearly simultaneous pub- 
 lication by each of a work on Proverbs, in which 
 he at first suspected plagiary. But it must be 
 owned that, except in a literary point of view, his 
 character does not stand high. In the beginning 
 of Henry VIII. 's reign he incurred the displeasure 
 of Cardinal Wolsey, lost his office of sub-collector, 
 and was thrown into the Tower for some libellous 
 insinuations that he had written in letters to Rome. 
 From his place of confinement he wrote to the 
 great cardinal, entreating his mercy in terms the 
 most abject, and blasphemously besought an op- 
 
^arlg €f)ronickr$$ of lEnglanD. 
 
 portunity of paying him adoration "as his God 
 and Saviour." At the Pope's intercession he was 
 liberated ; but long after Wolsey's death, when 
 composing an additional book to his history re- 
 lating to the reign of Henry VI II., he again 
 poured out the venom he had so long suppressed, 
 and assailed the great cardinal's memory with 
 every possible slander. 
 
 Richard Grafton, after he had printed Hall's 
 Chronicle in 1548, composed an Abridgement of the 
 Chronicles of England, which was printed by Tottyl 
 in 1562, and republished two or three times during 
 the next few years. But in this sort of work he 
 had a formidable rival in the famous antiquary 
 Stow, who, in 1 565, brought out his Summary of 
 English Chronicles ; and in the spirit of rivalry he 
 immediately issued an abridgement of his own. 
 abridgement, entitled, A Manual of the Chronicles 
 of England. This book he dedicated "to the 
 Master and Wardens of the company of the most 
 excellent art and science of Imprinting," hoping, 
 as he avows, that by their patronage it would 
 become the standard work upon the subject, and 
 that they would take such order "that there be 
 no brief abridgment or manuals of chronicles here- 
 after imprinted but only this little book." Grafton's 
 mind was not a very generous one, and in one edition 
 he sneers at the work of his rival as containing 
 " the memories of superstitious foundations, fables, 
 and lies foolishly Stowed together." Nor, it must 
 be owned, did Stow bear these attacks with perfect 
 
(Grafton's ©Ijrontcle. 309 
 
 equanimity, but retaliated with charges against 
 Grafton, one of which — that of falsifying Hardyng's 
 Chronicle — appears to have been founded in igno- 
 rance that Hardyng himself had re-written and 
 altered his work. 
 
 - But that which is called Graf toil s Chronicle did 
 not appear till the year 1569.* His motive for 
 compiling it is explained by himself, in the dedi- 
 cation to Sir William Cecil. Although many 
 writers had produced works of a kindred nature, 
 no one had yet, in his opinion, published " any full, 
 playne, and meere Englishe historic" Some were 
 only short annals called abridgments, which showed 
 what was done, but not the manner of doing it. 
 Others mingled foreign affairs with English, to a 
 needless extent. Others, especially by foreigners, 
 had followed unjust and malicious reports in the 
 matter of religion. For Grafton, like Hall, was a 
 very zealous Protestant, and did not think that the 
 history of his country had been written from a 
 sufficiently Protestant point of view. He had been 
 imprisoned in Henry VIU's time, for printing the 
 Bible, and he had suffered a second imprisonment 
 under Mary. He had been the king's printer under 
 Edward VI., and lost his office after that king's 
 death, for having printed a proclamation of Lady 
 Jane Grey, as queen. His work, however, was so 
 far from being " meere Englishe historie," that it 
 began in the old style with Creation, and the story 
 
 * The second volume, which seems to have been completed before 
 the first, bears date 1568. 
 
310 lEarlg ©fjrontdcrg of lEnglant). 
 
 of Adam and Eve. The reason for this, as he 
 informs the reader, was because this island had the 
 same time of creation as all the rest of the earth. 
 The first vclume comes down in seven ages, or 
 parts, to the time of William the Conqueror. And 
 in this first volume even Brutus does not make his 
 appearance earlier than the fourth age, in which he 
 is contemporary with the kings of Israel. The 
 first volume, however, is of comparatively slender 
 dimensions. The second is about eight times its 
 bulk, and its contents are, indeed, much more like 
 " meere Englishe historic" They are compiled from 
 various sources, but from the accession of Henry 
 IV. the work is little more than a reprint of Hall's 
 Chronicle, almost word for word, with a continuation, 
 to the beginniug of the reign of Queen Elizabeth. 
 On the whole, though highly esteemed in its own 
 day, it is not a work of very great Vcdue to the 
 modern student of history. 
 
 The antiquary, John Stow, was born in London, 
 in the parish of St. Michael, Cornhili, in the year 
 1525. Ke was eleven years old when Henry VIII. 
 began to suppress the monasteries ; and there is 
 little doubt that he was much impressed by the 
 change which then came over tne world. " It was," 
 he says, speaking of the religious houses, in his 
 chronicle, "a pitiful thing to hear the lamentation 
 that the people in the country made for them ; for 
 there was great hospitality kept among them, and, 
 as it was thought, more than ten thousand persons, 
 masters and servants, had lost their livings by the 
 
jotofo'jj ©jjronlcfe. 311 
 
 putting down of those houses at that time." Never- 
 theless, he is neither a zealous advocate of the 
 Reformation, like Hall and Grafton, nor a believer 
 in the Pope's authority, but records everything that 
 took place in a very impartial manner. He was 
 doubtless a studious antiquary from a very early 
 period. His father was a member of the Merchant 
 Tailors' company, and he himself is designated a 
 tailor in contemporary documents. But about his 
 fortieth year he gave up his business, and devoted 
 himself entirely to the study of antiquities. He 
 produced a summary of English history, which was 
 published in 1565, and went through numerous 
 editions. But a much more important work was 
 his annals, now commonly spoken of as Stows 
 Chronicle, which first appeared in 1580, and was 
 afterwards considerably enlarged. Two editions of 
 it were published after his death by Edmund 
 Howes, the latter of which, bringing down the 
 history to the year of publication, 163 1, is that most 
 commonly referred to. 
 
 The industry of Stow was indefatigable. Besides 
 the chronicle, or annals, and the summary above 
 mentioned, he was the author of a very elaborate 
 topographical work, entitled A Survey of the Cities of 
 London mid Westminster. He also left behind him a 
 vast quantity of manuscript notes and copies from 
 old chronicles in his own hand. He died in 1605, 
 two years after the accession of James I., and, it is 
 melancholy to record, in extreme poverty. After 
 devoting a long life to the investigation of historical 
 
3i2 Hiarls ©fwomclettf of lEnglanfc. 
 
 truth, he found himself, in his eightieth year, 
 absolutely reduced to beg his bread. He received 
 letters patent from King James, acknowledging the 
 great services he had done at his own great cost, and 
 with neglect of ordinary means of maintenance, in 
 the publication of "divers necessary books and 
 chronicles ; " on which account he was authorised 
 to solicit voluntary contributions for his support, 
 the king setting the example. Such was the 
 reward of his long untiring zeal, and single-minded 
 devotion to historic truth ! 
 
 The remarkable industry shown by so many 
 different workers at this period in the compilation 
 of chronicles, was undoubtedly due in great part to 
 the dissolution of the monasteries in the reign of 
 Henry VIII. The ancient storehouses of literature 
 were now destroyed ; their treasures, intellectual or 
 other, had been carried off ; their ancient chronicles 
 and richly illuminated manuscripts had been confis- 
 cated like all their other goods. The records of the 
 monks had thus become the property of the Crown, 
 hereafter to be studied and utilized in the city, not 
 in the country. And though some could not but 
 lament the disturbance, the change was eminently 
 beneficial and suited to the character of the new era, 
 days when learning no longer withdrew itself to the 
 cloister, but frequented the courts of princes and 
 invigorated the life of cities. 
 
 But even before the suppression of the monas- 
 teries, a considerable amount of interest seems to 
 have been felt regarding their historical manuscripts. 
 
&clanVi3 ©olkctfoitjS. 313 
 
 Henry VIII. had commissioned his librarian, John 
 Leland, who was designated the king's antiquary, 
 to travel up and down the country and draw up a 
 topographical account of the whole kingdom and 
 its antiquities. Under this commission, Leland 
 was empowered to examine the libraries of cathe- 
 drals, monasteries, and colleges, and to report upon 
 their contents. He spent six years in the work, 
 and the information he collected was very valuable. 
 Besides a great mass of curious notes upon the 
 different localities, he described particularly all the 
 more remarkable manuscripts he met with in the 
 monasteries. His collections, however, remained 
 unprinted till the beginning of the eighteenth cen- 
 tury, when some of them were edited by the anti- 
 quary, Thomas Hearne. They had, in fact, rather 
 an unfortunate history. Edward VI. committed 
 them to the keeping of Sir John Cheke, who find- 
 ing himself obliged to leave the country in Mary's 
 reign, gave some volumes to Humphrey Purefoy 
 which are now in the Bodleian library. The rest 
 came to the hands of Lord Paget and Sir William 
 Cecil, secretaries of state ; but whether in their 
 keeping or in Cheke's they were so sadly neglected 
 as even for some time to be exposed to the 
 weather. 
 
 Early in the reign of Elizabeth, Reginald Wolfe, 
 the queen's printer, by birth a German, had planned 
 the publication of a very magnificent work, which 
 was to contain a universal cosmography, with par- 
 ticular histories of every known nation. He spent 
 
314 lEarlg @i)romclatf of lEnglatrti. 
 
 five-and-twenty years in preparing for this grand 
 project, but died before he could give it to the 
 world. Raphael Holinshed whom he had engaged 
 to collect the materials for it, was then applied to 
 by his executors to see the work through the press. 
 The bulk of it, however, alarmed those who were 
 to bear the expense of publication, and it was 
 resolved to limit the design in the first instance to 
 the histories of England, Scotland, and Ireland 
 with a general description of each country prefixed. 
 Accordingly, in the year 1577, there appeared in 
 two thick folio volumes, the first edition of the work 
 called Holinshed 's Chronicle, containing the three 
 histories and descriptions just mentioned, illustrated 
 by numerous spirited woodcuts. This was three 
 years before Stouts Chronicle was published. But 
 the first edition of Holinshed's work is now very 
 rare, and the second edition is that which is 
 commonly referred to. This was published ten 
 years later without woodcuts and with some omis- 
 sions besides, but with important additions con- 
 tributed by Stow and several others, who were 
 among the best antiquarians of the time. 
 
 Little is known of Raphael Holinshed, the 
 principal author of this work, except that he be- 
 longed to a Cheshire family, and that, according 
 to Anthony a Wood, he was educated at one of 
 the universities, and was a minister of God's word. 
 He is also believed to have been, in later life, 
 steward to Thomas Burdet, of Bromcote, in War- 
 wickshire, an employment quite compatible with 
 
?I?oItn0f>rti'js ©SrcRttle. 315 
 
 that of a clergyman in those days, though the 
 point seems to have raised a difficulty with some 
 critics. He died at Bromcote about three or four 
 years after the first publication of his chronicle, 
 the second edition of which was issued after his 
 death. 
 
 His chief assistant in the work was William 
 Harrison, a native of London, who received his 
 education first at Westminster School, under the 
 celebrated divine, Alexander Nowell, and after- 
 wards at Oxford and Cambridge. He was chaplain 
 to William Brooke, Lord Cobham, warden of the 
 Cinque Ports, who presented him to two livings 
 in Essex, and to whom he dedicated his own part 
 of Holinshed's publication, the Description of 
 Britain and of England prefixed to the whole. 
 This is a very elaborate account of its topography, 
 inhabitants, languages, manners, laws, and insti- 
 tutions, which, as he informs us, he composed 
 at the request of his friends during one Trinity 
 term when he was compelled to stay in London. 
 The conditions under which he achieved the task 
 would certainly appear to have been very unpro- 
 pitious ; for, as he tells us, he was then parted 
 from his books by a distance of forty miles, and 
 so little had he travelled even in his own country, 
 except in visits to the universities or to Lord 
 Cobham, in Kent, he had never, till recently, gone 
 a forty miles' journey in his life. Nevertheless, 
 by careful study of the valuable manuscripts of 
 Leland (though they had been sadly injured by 
 
31 6 lEarlg @§rottula:g of lEnglant). 
 
 wet and weather, and several of the volumes were 
 missing), and by information derived from letters 
 and from personal conversation with friends, he 
 succeeded in producing a treatise altogether unique 
 in its day, and certainly of no small interest to 
 students of antiquity in later times. 
 
 John Hooker, otherwise called Vowell, of Exeter, 
 uncle of "the Judicious Hooker," contributed the 
 history of the conquest of Ireland translated from 
 Giraldus Cambrensis, and some further articles 
 relating to the affairs of that country. Holinshed 
 himself, however, wrote the continuation of Irish 
 history from where Giraldus left off, as far as the 
 year 1509, to which, in the second edition, a 
 further continuation to 1586 was added by Richard 
 Stanihurst, a native of Dublin, who afterwards 
 wrote a Latin history of the country, and a trans- 
 lation of Virgil's JEneid into English hexameters. 
 
 In the second edition also, the history of Scot- 
 land, which Holinshed had brought down to 1571, 
 was continued by Francis Botevile, alias Thin, 
 Lancaster herald, a man of great learning and 
 ability ; and a number of valuable notes throughout 
 the whole work were contributed by Abraham 
 Fleming, rector of St. Pancras, Soper Lane, in the 
 city of London. 
 
 In the second edition of Holinshed 1 s Chronicle 
 several sheets were cancelled by order of the Privy 
 Council, as containing objectionable matter in re- 
 ference to certain delicate subjects in the reign of 
 queen Elizabeth. But these castrations were in 
 
j&ftafogpmc'g i^igtomg. 317 
 
 the last century collected and published by them- 
 selves in black letter, similar to the original edition 
 with which they are now often bound up. 
 
 It was from the pages of Holinshed, and of his 
 predecessor Hall, that Shakespeare derived the 
 materials of his dramatized histories. And it may 
 be remarked that, besides the play of King John, 
 which stands by itself, those dramas form a regular 
 sequence, covering exactly the same period as 
 Hall's Chronicle— -from Richard II. to Henry VIII. 
 — broken only by the dark mysterious interval of 
 Henry VII.'s reign, which afforded no good sub- 
 ject for representation on the stage. With this 
 exception the whole period was full of action, and 
 the wonderful pathos of its great catastrophes — 
 a pathos which deeply touched the nation's heart, 
 and is strongly marked in the narrative of Hall — 
 was exemplified as it could have been by no other 
 pen. Poets, indeed, had been labouring at the 
 theme, even in the days of Queen Mary, and the 
 Mirror for Magistrates, which first saw the light 
 in the very beginning of Elizabeth's reign, bore 
 testimony by its popularity to the depth and 
 universality of the sentiment. It was the work of 
 several hands, framed on the model of Lydgate'-s 
 Falls of Princes ; and as edition after edition 
 appeared throughout the whole reign of Elizabeth, 
 the public seemed never tired of reading mono- 
 logues put into the mouths of unfortunate great 
 men who had come to a tragic end in the midst of 
 their prosperity. But though the poetry was far 
 
3i 8 lEarlg <&f)foniclcYjE of iEnglanto. 
 
 from being contemptible (Sackville, Lord Buck- 
 hurst contributed some of his most polished verses), 
 and though the subjects were taken from English 
 history since the days of Richard II., such a mode 
 of treatment could not compare for a moment with 
 dramatic representations of the same facts by the 
 hand of the great master. It is from the dramas 
 of Shakespeare that most of us derive, even at this 
 day, our chief impressions of English history ; and 
 those dramas were undoubtedly composed from a 
 very careful study of the writings of Hall and 
 Holinshed. 
 
 The Tudor era, with all its despotism, was on 
 the whole a period of national prosperity and 
 happiness. It contained, certainly, enough of the 
 evils of past times — enough of cruelty, oppression, 
 and wrong-doing, to impress men with awe and 
 with lively sympathy for the victims of state 
 tyranny. But, at- least, the wrong-doing was no 
 longer capricious ; feudalism was at an end ; the 
 country, from one extremity to the other, was 
 under a single rule and government, no longer 
 liable to be disturbed by the ascendancy of some 
 new faction among a turbulent nobility. The im- 
 provement was so great that men could look back 
 upon the past with a sense of devout thankfulness ; 
 they could collect its annals, moralize upon them, 
 dramatize them. And in the altered conditions 
 of literature, what they had to say was all the 
 more significant of popular feeling. For though 
 the monasteries were gone — those secure retreats 
 
literature ©entraKjeJj. 319 
 
 in which the deeds of despotic kings had once 
 been freely canvassed, both in speech and writing 
 — their extinction only contributed still more to 
 that unity of national life and sentiment which the 
 extinction of feudalism had done so much to effect. 
 The records of the monks were now centralized 
 in the city ; the facts of history were discussed in 
 a larger atmosphere. Local traditions and recorded 
 incidents, known hitherto within narrower limits, 
 had become the talk of men in streets and taverns. 
 It was in London alone that men could gather all 
 the knowledge that was to be obtained about the 
 past. It was there that the contrast between new 
 and old times was best understood, and the value 
 of a stable government best appreciated. It was 
 there, too, that literature was now domiciled ; the 
 printing press had made ic dependent on commerce 
 in a way it had never been before. And it was 
 in the earliest period of its new career — in the 
 days of the Tudors and the Stuarts — that litera- 
 ture produced the most elaborate of English 
 histories, and the most historically-minded of 
 English poets. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 A. 
 
 Adam de Marisco, 228, 229. 
 
 Adamnan, abbot of Iona, 21. 
 
 Aetius the Consul, his assistance invoked by the Britons against the 
 
 Picts and Scots, 5. 
 Ailred of Rievaulx, 193. 
 Albertus Magnus, 222. 
 Alcuin, 192. 
 
 Alexander of Hales, 225, 229. 
 Alfred, King, Asser's Life of, 30-47. 
 Ambrosius Aurelianus, the Roman general, aids the Britons against 
 
 the Saxons, 8. 
 Anglo-Saxon, or Saxon, Chronicle. See Saxon Chronicle. 
 Anselm, Eadmer's account of him, 67-73. 
 Antiquis Legibus, Liber de, 284. 
 Aquinas, Thomas, 222. 
 
 Arthur, King, stories of, in Geoffrey of Monmouth, 158. 
 Asser, Bishop, facts relating to, 30, 31. His Life of Alfred, 30-47 ; 
 
 incorporated in Florence of Worcester's Chronicle, 39, 64. 
 
 Annals attributed to Asser, 34, 37, 38. 
 Augustine, St., his mission to England, 10-17. 
 Augustinian Canons, 118. 
 Augustinian Friars, 220. 
 Austin Canons. See Augustinian. 
 
 ENG. V 
 
322 Intoex. 
 
 B. 
 
 Bacon, Roger, 229. 
 
 Battle Abbey, founded by William the Conqueror, 51, 53. Chronicle 
 
 of, 53-57- 
 Bede, the Venerable. His Ecclesiastical History, 10-22, 28. His 
 
 other works, 22, 23. Cuthbert's account of his death, 24-27. 
 
 Miracles related by him, 28, 29. 
 Benedict of Peterborough, 194. 
 Bernard, St., 113-115. 
 Black Friars, the, 202. 
 Blaneforde, Henry de, 267. 
 Bonaventura, 225, 226. 
 
 Botevile, or Thin, Francis, his contribution to Holinshed, 3 1 6. 
 Brakeland, Joceline of, his Chronicle, 142-154. 
 Bristol chronicle, a (the Mayor of BristoFs Calendar), 291. 
 Britain, Gildas on the Destruction of, 2-9. 
 Britons, Groans of the, 6. 
 Brute, Chronicles of the, 164, 283. 
 Bury St. Edmund's (or St. Edmundsbury), monastery of. Account 
 
 of the rule of Abbot Sampson there, 142-154. 
 
 Cade's insurrection described by Gregory, 288-290. 
 
 C^dmon, the poet, 21. 
 
 Carmelite Friars, 220. 
 
 Carthusian Order, 1 12, 113. 
 
 Caxton, William, 283. 
 
 Chester, St. Werburgh's, Higden, a monk of, 274, 
 
 Cistercian Order, 1 13- 118. 
 
 Cluniac Order, 112. 
 
 Coventiy, monks replaced by secular canons at, 139-141. 
 
 Croyland, Chronicle of, 273. 
 
 Crusade, the first, described by William of Malmesbury, 83, 84. 
 
 Cuthbert's account of the death of Bede, 24-27. 
 
 D. 
 
 Devizes, Richard of, his Chronicle, 119-141. 
 
InDex. 323 
 
 Dominic, St., founds the Dominican Order, 201-204. 
 
 Duns Scotus, 229, 230. 
 
 Dunstan, St., reforms the monastic rule in the south of England, 
 
 57- 
 Durham, Simeon of, 192. 
 
 E. 
 
 Eadmer's history of his own time, 65-75. 
 
 Eccleston's history of the arrival of the Franciscans in England, 
 
 311-219. 
 Edwin, king of Northumbria, his conversion to Christianity, 17-20. 
 Etiwin I., Trivet's description of, 265-267. 
 
 Ethelbert, king of Kent, receives St. Augustine in England, 12-14. 
 Ethelstan, a priest invited to King Alfred's court, 42. 
 Eusebius, 5. 
 
 F. 
 
 Fabyan, Robert, his Chronicle, 292-294. 
 Fleming, Abraham, his contributions to Holinshed, 316. 
 Florence of Worcester, 63. 
 
 Francis, St., founds the Franciscan Order of Friars, 204-209. 
 Eccleston's history of their arrival in England, 211-219. 
 
 Geoffrey of Monmouth. See Monmouth, Geoffrey of. 
 
 Gildas, doubts as to his age and nationality, 2. His book on the 
 
 Destruction of Britain, 2- 9. 
 Giraldus Cambrensis, 168-171. His birthplace, 171-173. His 
 
 family, 173 ; life and works of, 174-19 1. 
 Gloucester, Robert Earl of, son of Henry I. , 95 ; patron of William 
 
 of Malmesbury, 87, 156; and of Geoffrey of Monmouth, 156- 
 
 157. 
 Grafton, Richard, his minor historical works, 308, 309 ; his 
 
 Chronicle, 309, 310. 
 Gregory, William, his Chronicle, 288-291. 
 Gregory, St., Pope, sends St. Augustine into England, 10. 
 
 Writes letters in his behalf, 11, 12. Story of his seeing British 
 
 slaves at Rome, 15, 16. 
 
3 2 ; InDex. 
 
 Grey Friars, the, 211. 
 
 Grimbald, a monk invited by Alfred from Gaul, 42. 
 
 Grosseteste, Bishop, 217. 
 
 H. 
 
 Hales, Alexander of, 225, 229. 
 
 Hall's Chronicle, 299-304. 
 
 Hardyngs Chronicle, 299, 300. 
 
 Harrison, William, his Description of Britain, in Holinshed, 315. 
 
 Hastings, battle of, its results described by William of Malmesbury, 
 
 81-83. 
 Hemingburgh, Walter, History of, 195, 196. 
 Henry I. (Beauclerc), described by William of Malmesbury, 85, 86. 
 
 His encouragement of learning, 155. 
 Henry II., incident on his landing at St. David's, 179 ; personal 
 
 description of, by Giraldus, 181-184. 
 Hexham, John of, 193. 
 Hexham, Richard of, 193. 
 Higden, Ralph, his Polychronicon, 274-279. 
 Hilda, St., founds the Abbey of Whitby, 20, 21, 57. 
 Holinshed, Raphael, his Chronicle, 314-317. 
 Holy rood, Chronicle of, 193. 
 
 Hooker (or Vowell), John, his contributions to Holinshed, 316. 
 Hoveden, Roger of, his History, 194. 
 Huntingdon, Henry of, 98-100; personal account of, 101-103; his 
 
 History of the English, 104, 105. 
 
 J- 
 Jews massacred at the coronation of Richard I., 122 ; supposed 
 
 crucifixion of children by, 124. 
 John, Prince, afterwards King, 176, 184 
 John of Hexham, 193. 
 
 K. 
 
 Kilwardby, Robert, 
 
 Knights Templars and Knights of St. John, 118. 
 
InUcx. 325 
 
 Lanercost, Chronicle of, 196-198. 
 
 Leland, John, his collections, 313. 
 
 Liber de Antiquis Legibus, 284. 
 
 Liber Albus of the City of London, 287. 
 
 Lombard, Peter, 221. 
 
 London, incorporation of the city, 139. Chronicles of, 285-291. 
 
 Longchamp, William de, bishop of Ely, described by Richard of 
 
 Devizes, 126. 
 Lully, Raymond, 226,227. 
 
 M. 
 
 Malmesbury, William of, account of, 76 ; character as an historian, 
 77, 78 ; his Gesta Regum, 79-86 ; his Historia Novella, 87, 88. 
 
 Margaret of Anjou, her adventures described by Gregory, 290-291. 
 
 Marianus Scotus, 64. 
 
 Matthew Paris, 62, 6$, 236-239, 243-246 ; his History, 247-257. 
 
 Maud, the Empress, 96 ; her escape from Oxford described, 97, 98. 
 
 Melrose, Chronicle of, 195. 
 
 Minorite Friars, 210, 211. 
 
 Mirror for Magistrates, the, 317. 
 
 Monasteries, decline of discipline in, under the Saxons, 57. 
 Labours of the monks, agricultural, 58, 59 j literary, 59-61. 
 Office of historiographer in monasteries, 62, 63. Reforms of 
 St. Dunstan and Lanfranc, 1 10. New monastic orders, 1 10, 1 1 1. 
 The Cluniacs, 112; Carthusians, 112,113 I Cistercians, 113-118. 
 
 Monmouth, Geoffrey of, his History of the Kings of Britain, 156- 
 168. 
 
 Mount Badon, 8. 
 
 N. 
 
 Newburgh, William of, denounces the fictions of Geoffrey of Mon- 
 mouth, 167; his History, 193,194. 
 
 Nonant, Hugh de, bishop of Coventry, expels the monks and puts 
 secular canons in their place, 139-141. 
 
 Northern historians, 1 91-198. 
 
326 Bitex. 
 
 o. 
 
 Occam, William, 230-232, 280. 
 Ordericus Vitalis, 106-108. 
 
 Oswy, king of Northumbria, being victorious in battle, makes his 
 daughter a nun, 20. 
 
 r. 
 
 Paris, Matthew, 62, 63, 236-239, 243-246 ; his History, 247-257. 
 Paulinus, bishop of York, converts Edwin, king of Northumbria, to 
 
 Christianity, 17, 19 ; his missionary efforts north and south ot 
 
 Humber, 20. 
 Peterborough, Benedict of, 194. 
 Picts and Scots oppress the Britons, 5. 
 Plegmund, invited to King Alfred's court, 42. 
 Polychronicon, Higden's, 274-279. 
 Polydore, Vergil. See Vergil, P. 
 Preaching Friars, the, 202. 
 Premonstratensian Canons, 118. 
 Pusac, or Pudsey, Hugh de, bishop of Durham, story of, in Richard 
 
 of Devizes, 127, 1 28. 
 
 Richard I., massacre of the Jews at his coronation, 122. His 
 expedition to the Holy Land, 125, 128-137, 141. 
 
 Richard III., More's History of, 294-299. 
 
 Richard of Devizes, Chronicle of, 119-141. 
 
 Richard of Hexham, 193. 
 
 Rishanger, William, Chronicles of, 257-264. 
 
 Robert of Normandy, son of William the Conqueror, described by 
 William of Malmesbury, 85 ; by Ordericus Vitalis, 106, 107. 
 
 Robert Earl of Gloucester. See Gloucester, Robert Earl of. 
 
 Roger of Wendover, his Flowers 0/ History, 239-243. 
 
 St. Alban's, historical school of, 235-273 ; battle of, 273. 
 St. Edmundsbury. See Bury St. Edmunds. 
 
Xntttx* 327 
 
 St Jerome, 5. 
 
 St. Mot, Life of, 37, 39. 
 
 Sampson, abbot of Bury St. Edmund's, his rule over the monastery, 
 142, 143 ; personal description of, 143-145 ; protects his juris- 
 diction from interference by the archbishop, 146, 147 ; his journey 
 to Rome before he was abbot, 147 ; establishes schools and 
 hospitals, etc., 149; refuses a request of King Richard, 150; 
 maintains the rights of his monastery against the city of 
 London, 151, 152 ; and against the monks of Ely, 153, 154. 
 
 Saxon, or Anglo-Saxon, Chronicle, the, 32, 34, 36, 49-53, 64, 65. 
 
 Scots and Picts oppress the Britons, 5. 
 
 Shakespeare's Historical Plays, 317, 318. 
 
 Simeon of Durham, 192. 
 
 Standard, battle of the, described by Henry of Huntingdon, I04J 
 by Richard of Hexham, 193 ; by Ailred of Rievaulx, ib. 
 
 Stanihurst, Richard, his contributions to Holinshed, 316. 
 
 Stephen, King, History of, by William of Malmesbury, 87 ; by an 
 anonymous writer, 88-98 ; by Henry of Huntingdon, 98, 104, 
 105. 
 
 Stow, John, 308, 310 ; his Chronicle, and other works, 311, 312. 
 
 Stubbs, Dr. Thomas, his History of the Archbishops of York, 
 224, 225. 
 
 Sulpicius Severus, Ecclesiastical History of, 5. 
 
 Thin, Francis. See Botevile. 
 
 Thomas Aquinas, 222. 
 
 Trevisa, John, translator of Higden's Polychronicon, 279-282. 
 
 Trivet, Nicholas, his Annals, 223, 224, 265-267. 
 
 Trokelowe, John de, 267. 
 
 Tyler, "Wat, his rebellion, 270-272. 
 
 V. 
 
 Vergil, Polydore, his History of England, 304-308. 
 Vowell, John. See Hooker. 
 
328 Iitfjex. 
 
 w. 
 
 Walsingham, Thomas, his English History, 267-272 ; his Ypodigma 
 
 Neustrice, 268. 
 Walter Hemingburgh, his History, 195, 196. 
 
 Werefrith, bishop of Worcester, invited to King Alfred's court, 42. 
 Werewulf, a priest, invited to King Alfred's court, 42. 
 Whethamstede, John, Abbot of St. Alban's, his Register, 2"J2- 
 Whitby Abbey founded by St. Hilda, 20, 21, 57 ; council held at, 
 
 determines the rule of Easter in Britain, 21. 
 William the Conqueror, description of, in the Saxon Chronicle, 
 
 51-53- 
 William II., his relations with Anselm described by Eadmer, 
 
 67-73- 
 William of Malmesbury. See Malmesbury, William of. 
 William of Newburgh. See Newburgh, William of. 
 Wolfe, Reginald, 313. 
 Worcester, Florence of, 63. 
 Wycliffe, 231, 270 ; favour shown to him at Oxford, 269. 
 
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PUBLICATIONS OF THE SOCIETY. 
 
 UNIFORM LIBRARY EDITION OF 
 MRS. EWING'S WORKS. 
 
 Crown Svo, halfcloth> 2S. 6d, eachj or complete in a case, 48s. 
 
 Vol.1, contains — "Melchior's Dream," and other Tales, "The 
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 Vol. III. contains—" Old-fashioned Fairy Tales." 
 
 Vol. IV. contains — "A Flat Iron for a Farthing." 
 
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 Vol. IX. contains — Verses for Children, Songs for Music, and 
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 Vol. X. contains— " The Peace Egg," "A Christmas Mumming 
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 Vol. XI. contains — "A Great Emergency," and other Tales, "A 
 very Ill-tempered Family," "Our Field," "Madam Liberality." 
 
 Vol. XII. contains— " Brothers of Pity," and other Tales of Beasts 
 and Men, "Father Hedge-hog and his Neighbours," "Toots 
 and Boots," " The Hens of Hencastle," etc. 
 
 Vol. XIII. contains— "We and the World," Part I. 
 Vol. XIV. contains—" We and the World," Part II. 
 VoL XV. contains — "Jackanapes," "Daddy Darwin's Dovecote," 
 "The Story of a Short Life." 
 
 Vol. XVI. contains — " Mary's Meadow," and other Tales of Fields 
 and Flowers. 
 
 Vol. XVII. contains — Miscellanea, including "The Mystery of the 
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 Vol. XVIII. contains — "Juliana Horatia Ewing and her Books," 
 with a Selection from Mrs. Ewing's Letters. 
 
PUBLICATIONS OF THE SOCIETY. 
 
 MRS. EWING'S WORKS. 
 
 SNAPDRAGONS: a Tale of Christmas Eve; and OLD FATHER 
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 THE PEACE EGG, AND A CHRISTMAS MUMMING PLAY. 
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 MARY'S MEADOW, AND LETTERS FROM A LITTLE GARDEN. 
 
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 LOB LIE-BY-THE-FIRE ; or, The Luck of Lingborough. Illus- 
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 STORY OF A SHORT LIFE (THE). Illustrated by Gordon 
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 DADDY DARWIN'3 DOVECOT : a Country Tale. Illustrated by 
 the late R. Caldecott. Small 4to, paper boards, is. 
 
 DANDELION CLOCKS, AND OTHER TALES. Illustrated by 
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 JACKANAPES. With Seventeen Illustrations by the late Ran- 
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 BROTHERS OF PITY; and other Tales of Beasts and Men. 
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 OLD-FASHIONED FAIRY TALES. Foolscap 4to, with numerous 
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 Library Edition of "Jackanapes," "Daddy Darwin's Dovecot," 
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 JULIANA HORATIA EWING AND HER BOOKS. By HoratiA 
 K. F. Gattv. With a Portrait by George Reid, R.S.A. 
 Illustrated by facsimiles from Mrs. Ewing's Sketches, and a 
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PUBLICATIONS OF THE SOCIETY. 7 
 
 BY G. MANVILLE PENN. 
 
 Crown 8vo. With Five page Woodcuts. Cloth boards^ 
 
 $s. each. 
 FRANK AND SAXON: A Tale of the Days of Good Queen Bess. 
 CROWN AND SCEPTRE : A West Country Story. 
 GIL THE GTTNNEE ; or, The Youngest Officer in the East 
 JACK AT SEA ; or, All Work and no Play made him a Dull Boy. 
 MASS' GEORGE ; or, A Boy's Adventures in the Old Savannahs. 
 PLANTER JACK; or, The Cinnamon Garden. 
 SAIL HO ! or, A Boy at Sea. 
 
 THE VAST ABYSS. Being the Story of Tom Blount, his Uncles 
 and his Cousin Sam. 
 
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 BY GORDON STABLES, M.D., CM., R.N. 
 
 Crown 8vo. Illustrated. Cloth Boards. 
 
 BORN TO COMMAND. A Tale of the Sea and of Sailors. $s. 
 
 CAPTAIN JAPP ; or, The Strange Adventures of Willie Gordon. 5*. 
 
 CHILDREN OF THE MOUNTAINS. A Story of Life in Scottish 
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 "FROM GREENLAND'S ICY MOUNTAINS." A Tale of the 
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 HARRY WILDE A Tale of the Brine and the Breeze. 3J. 
 
 IN TOUCH WITH NATURE. Tales and Sketches from the Life. 2s. 
 
 ROCKED IN THE CRADLE OF THE DEEP. A Tale of the Salt, 
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8 PUBLICATIONS OF THE SOCIETY. 
 
 BY THE LATE W. H. G. KINGSTON. 
 
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 MICHAEL PENGUYNE; or, Fisher Life on the Cornish Coast 
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 MOUNTAIN MOGGY; or, The Stoning of the Witch. Post 
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 NED GARTH ; or, Made Prisoner in Africa. A Tale of the Slave 
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 OWEN HAETLEY; or, Ups and Downs. Crown 8vo, 2s. 6d. 
 
 BOB NIXON, THE OLD WHITE TBA.PPEB. A Tale of Central 
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 SUNSHINE BILL. Crown 8vo, is. 6d. 
 
 THE CBUISE OF THE •« DAINTY." Crown 8vo, is. 6J. 
 
 THE LILY OP LEYDEN. Post 8vo, is. 
 
 THE FBONTIEB POET; or, Stirring Times in the North-West 
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PUBLICATIONS OF THE SOCIETY. 
 
 BY MRS. MOLESWOETH. 
 
 A CHARGE FULFILLED. With Three page Illustrations. Crown 
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 A HOUSE TO LET. With Coloured Illustrations. Small 4to, 
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 OPPOSITE NEIGHB0UR3, AND OTHER STORIES. With Coloured 
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 THE MAN WITH THE PAN-PIPES, &c. With Coloured Illus- 
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 THE THIRTEEN LITTLE BLACK PIGS, AND OTHER STORIES. 
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 TWELVE TINY TALES. With Coloured Illustrations. Smalt 
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PUBLICATIONS OF THE SOCIETY. 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 ft 4 
 
 ALONE AMONG THE ZULUS. By a Plain Woman. The 
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 ANIMAL CREATION (THE). A Popular Introduction to 
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 ANOTHER MAN'S BURDEN. A Tale of Love and Duty. 
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 ART TEACHING OF THE PRIMITIVE CHURCH (THE). 
 
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 AUSTRALIA'S HEROES : being a slight Sketch of the most 
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 BEHIND THE CLOUDS: a Story of Village Life. By 
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 BELFRY OF ST. JUDE (THE): a Story. By Esme 
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PUBLICATIONS OP THE SOCIETY. 
 
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 BIBLE PLACES ; or, The Topography of the Holy Land. 
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 BY LANTERN LIGHT: a Tale of the Cornish Coast. 
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 CAN SHE FORGIVE! By E. S. Curry. With Three 
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 CHEMISTRY OF CREATION (THE) : being a Sketch of the 
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 CHILDREN OF THE MOUNTAINS : a Story of Life in 
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PUBLICATIONS OF THE SOCIETY. 
 
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PUBLICATIONS OF THE SOCIETY. M 
 
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 HERE AND ELSEWHERE. The Fortunes of George 
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 HEROES OF THE ARCTIC AND THEIR ADVENTURES 
 
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 HISTORY OE INDIA, from the Earliest Times to the 
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*4 PUBLICATIONS OF THE SOCIETY, 
 
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 OCEAN (THE). By P. H. GOSSE, F.R.S. With Fifty one 
 
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