did. They gathered unjust tolls, and many other unjust things they did,

which are hard to number.

And in the same year before harvest the holy minster of St. Paul, the bishop’s see in London, was burned, and many other minsters, and the greatest and fairest part of all that borough. So also, at the same time, wellnigh every chief town in all England was burned. Ah! a rueful and sorrowful time was that year, which brought forth so many misfortunes. Also in the same year before the Assumption of St. Mary (15 August) king William went from Normandy into France with a host and made war upon his own lord, Philip the king, and slew a great part of his men, and burned the borough of Mantes and all the holy monasteries that were within the borough; and two holy men, who served God dwelling in a hermitage, were there burned. This so done, king William turned again to Normandy. A rueful thing he did, and a more rueful thing befel him. How more rueful? He fell sick and was sorely stricken. What can I say? Sharp death that passes by neither mighty men nor humble, took him. He died in Normandy on the day next after the Nativity of St. Mary (9 September), and he was buried at Caen in the monastery of St. Stephen, which he had formerly built and afterwards richly endowed. Ah! how false and how unstable is the wealth of this world. He who was before a mighty king and lord of many a land had then of all his land but a seven foot strip, and he who was once decked with gold and with gems lay then covered over with mould....

If any one will know what sort of a man he was, or what worship he had, or of how many lands he was lord, then will we write of him as we understood him, who looked upon him and at another time dwelt in his court. King William, of whom we speak, was a very wise man and very mighty, and worthier and stronger than were any of his predecessors. He was gentle to the good men who loved God, and beyond all measure severe to the men who withstood his will. On the same spot where God granted to him that he should conquer England, he built a noble monastery and set monks there and well endowed it. In his days was built the noble monastery at Canterbury, and also full many others over all England. Yea! this land was filled with monks, and they lived their life after the rule of St. Benedict, and Christianity was such in his day that every man that would followed what belonged to his degree. Also he was full worshipful; thrice he bare his crown each year as oft as he was in England; at Easter he bare it in Winchester, on Whitsunday at Westminster, at Midwinter in Gloucester. And then there were with him all the mighty men over all England, archbishops and bishops, abbots and earls, thegns and knights. So also was he a full stern and cruel man, so that none durst do anything against his will. He had earls in his bonds who had done against his will; bishops he put away from their bishoprics, and abbots from their abbeys, and thegns he put in prison, and at last he spared not his own brother Odo. He was a very great bishop in Normandy, at Bayeux was his bishop’s see, and he was the foremost man beside the king. He had an earldom in England, and when the king was in Normandy, then was he the mightiest in this land; and him he put in prison.

Among other things is not to be forgotten the good peace that he made in this land, so that a man who himself were aught might fare unhurt throughout his realm with his bosom full of gold. And no man durst slay another man, how much evil soever he had done to the other.... He reigned over England and by his wisdom so well surveyed it, that there was not a hide of land in England that he knew not who had it, or what it was worth, and afterwards set it in his book. Wales was in his lordship, and he wrought castles therein and ruled over that race of men withal. So also he subdued Scotland to him by his great strength. The land of Normandy was his by heritage, and he ruled over the county called Maine, and if he might have lived yet two years more, he would have won Ireland by his valour, and without any weapons.

Truly in his time men had much hardship and full many troubles. He caused castles to be built and poor men to be sore oppressed. The king was so very stern and took from his subjects many a mark of gold and more hundred pounds of silver, which he took by weight and with much unright from his people for little need. He was fallen upon covetousness and greed he loved withal. He planted a great deer forest and laid down laws for the same that whosoever slew hart or hind should be blinded. He forbade that the harts and also the boars be slain; so much he loved the high deer, as he had been their father. Also he ordained for the hares, that they should go free. His mighty men grieved and the poor men murmured thereat, but he was so hard that he cared not for the hatred of them all, and they must follow the king’s will withal, if they would live or hold land or chattels, or even have his peace. Ah! that any man should be so haughty and lift himself up and count himself above all men. May God Almighty shew his soul lovingkindness and forgive him his sins. These things we have written of him, both the good and the evil, that good men may follow after the good and altogether eschew the evil, and go in the way that leads us to the kingdom of heaven.

FORESTS AND THE ROYAL LOVE OF HUNTING.

=Source.=--Richard, son of Nigel, _Dialogus de Scaccario_, ed. Hughes, Crump, and Johnson, p. 105.

_Master._ Forest procedure and the penalties or pardons of transgressors in forests, whether pecuniary or corporal, are kept apart from the other judgments of the realm and reserved for the decision of the king alone or of one of his intimate ministers specially deputed hereto. It subsists by its own laws, which are said to rest not upon the common law of the realm but on the personal will of the kings, so that anything that is done by forest-law is said to be not just absolutely, but just according to forest-law. The forests, moreover, are the kings’ sanctuaries and their highest delight, for to them they come to hunt when they lay aside the cares of state for a while, that they may be refreshed by a brief rest. There they put off at once their burdens and the inevitable turmoil of the court, and breathe for a space the blessed air of natural freedom; wherefore it follows that transgressors therein are subject only to the royal displeasure....

_Disciple._ ... Tell me at once what is a forest?...

_M._ The king’s forest is the safe abode of wild beasts, not of any species, but of woodland beasts, not in any kind of place, but in fixed and suitable places....

_D._ Is there a king’s forest in every county?

_M._ No, only in the wooded ones, which furnish the beasts with coverts and the richest feeding grounds; and it matters not who is the possessor of the woods, the king himself or the chief men of the realm, everywhere the beasts can range freely and unharmed.

THE TRAINING AND TEMPERAMENT OF WILLIAM RUFUS.

=Source.=--William of Malmesbury, _De gestis regum Anglorum_, ed. Stubbs, vol. ii., pp. 359, 366, 368. (Rolls Series.)

William the son of William was born in Normandy many years before his father came to England. He was brought up by his parents with great care, and, since he was endowed by nature with a mind fertile in great schemes, he climbed to the utmost summit of honour. He would have been without doubt a prince incomparable in our time, had not his father’s greatness eclipsed him, and had not destiny cut him off ere his prime, before riper years might correct faults which sprang from the licence of power and the rashness of youth. After his childhood, his early years were spent in military pursuits, in riding, in throwing the spear, in contending with his elders in service, and with those of his own age in duty. He counted it a reproach to his courage if another took arms before him in warfare, or if he were not the first to challenge the enemy, or, if challenged, to overthrow him. Loyal to his father in all things, he fought before his eyes in battle and stayed at his side in time of peace. With a gradually widening ambition, he was now eager to succeed to the throne, especially after the renunciation of his elder brother, though he was not without suspicion of his untried younger brother. So when his father, lying in his last illness, adopted him as his successor, he went in haste to take possession of the realm, before the king had breathed his last; and soon after was gladly received by the people and secured the keys of the treasury, by means whereof he subjected the whole of England to his will. Archbishop Lanfranc, the greatest power of the state, declared in favour of him, because he had educated him and made him a knight....

He was endowed with a high generosity of soul, which in the course of time was obscured by an excessive harshness, and vices crept into his heart in place of virtues so insensibly as to escape observation. For a long time men were in doubt whither his nature would carry and incline him. At first, during the life of archbishop Lanfranc, he shrank from any kind of crime, so that men hoped he would prove an unexampled mirror of royalty; and after Lanfranc’s death, he wavered for a time, poised between good and evil courses; but at length, in his last years, desire for good froze in him, and a crop of ills grew and ripened; his generosity became prodigality, his large-heartedness became pride, his severity became brutality.... Abroad and at gatherings of men he stood high and proud of aspect, fixing a threatening eye on bystanders, and repelling those who spoke with him with an assumed severity and fierce tones; as may be guessed, a fear of inadequate supplies and of others’ treachery made him unduly rapacious and stern. In private and at table with friends he was altogether easy and genial and full of jest. He was the wittiest of commentators on his own misdeeds, and strove to rid himself of the odium by an epigram....

He had no conception of making a bargain or valuing wares, and a trader could unload his goods on him at any price, and a soldier demand any pay. He wished the price of his clothes to be extravagant, and was disdainful of cheapness. One morning, when he was putting on new boots, he asked the chamberlain how much they had cost, and when he replied “Three shillings,” he shouted indignantly and angrily, “Bastard! how long has the king worn boots at that mean price? go and fetch me a pair worth a mark of silver.” He went, and bringing a much cheaper pair falsely said that they had cost as much as the king had commanded. “Ah!” said the king, “those are fit for the royal majesty.” So the chamberlain used afterwards to charge him what he pleased for his clothes, and bought many a thing for his own benefit.

THE REBELLION OF BISHOP ODO (1088).

=Source.=--William of Malmesbury, _De gestis regum Anglorum_, ed. Stubbs, vol. ii., p. 360. (Rolls Series.)

At the beginning of Spring the first struggle was against Odo, the king’s uncle, bishop of Bayeux. For when, as I have related, on his release from prison, he had established his nephew Robert in the duchy of Normandy, he came to England and received from the king the earldom of Kent; but seeing how all things in England were administered not according to his will as before (for the control of public affairs had been entrusted to William bishop of Durham), he was smitten with jealousy, and himself deserting the king, he intrigued also with many others, urging that Robert was of an easier disposition and had tempered his youthful excesses with great hardships, and therefore deserved the realm; William, on the other hand, carefully brought up as he was, and overbearing and brutal, as his face itself proved, would set at nought all right and justice; soon they would lose the honours so strenuously won; they would have gained nothing by the father’s death, if the son slew those whom the father had imprisoned. These complaints were first made in secret by him and Roger of Montgomery, and by Geoffrey bishop of Coutances, with his nephew Robert earl of Northumberland; afterwards they interchanged letters and plotted openly. Even William bishop of Durham, the king’s confidant, had joined in their treason; a source of grave concern to the king, it is said, because he at once lost a friend and was deprived of supplies from the distant provinces. Thereupon Odo conveyed booty of all kinds to Rochester, laying waste the king’s demesnes in Kent, and especially the lands of the archbishop, against whom he breathed an undying hatred, since, as he alleged, it was by the archbishop’s advice that his brother had cast him into prison. This charge was true enough, for when the elder William had complained to Lanfranc of his brother’s desertion, Lanfranc said, “Seize and imprison him!” “What!” he replied, “he is a clerk.” To which the archbishop rejoined, with playful wit, “weighing the objection with nice antitheses,” as Persius remarks, “You will not be laying hands on the bishop of Bayeux, you will be committing to prison the earl of Kent.” Bishop Geoffrey, with his nephew, ravaging Bath and Berkeley and part of Wiltshire, gathered his forces at Bristol. Roger of Montgomery, sending his troops with Welshmen from Shrewsbury plundered Worcestershire, and was now threatening Worcester, when the king’s knights who guarded the city, relying on the blessing of bishop Wulstan, to whom the keeping of the castle had been committed, few though they were, put to flight their numerous opponents, wounding and killing many, and taking some prisoners. At the same time Roger Bigod at Norwich and Hugh Grantmesnil at Leicester were ravaging each his own country. In vain, however, did the whole strength of rebellion rage against the king, who lacked neither wisdom nor good fortune. Seeing well-nigh all the Normans leagued together in one wild revolt, he summoned by letters of request such trusty and stout Englishmen as were still left, and complaining to them of his wrongs, bound them in fealty to him by promises of good laws, relief from taxation and the right of free chase. With equal skill he won over Roger of Montgomery, who, concealing his treachery, was riding with him. Taking him aside, he heaped reproaches upon him, saying he would gladly abdicate, if Roger and the others whom his father had left as his guardians thought fit; he failed to understand why they were so outrageous; if they wanted money, they might have what they chose; if an increase of their inheritances, be it so; indeed they might have what they wished. Only they must take care not to imperil the validity of his father’s decision; for if they chose to defy it in his case, they must beware of the precedent in their own case; for he who had made him king had made them earls. Stirred by these words and promises, the chief rebel, after Odo, was the first to fall away. So the king, marching at once against the traitors, stormed his uncle’s castles of Tonbridge and Pevensey, captured Odo in the latter and forced him to swear that he would leave England and give up Rochester. To accomplish the same he sent him in advance with a loyal guard, himself following slowly. Now at that time there was at Rochester almost the whole of the younger nobility of England and Normandy; three sons of earl Roger, the younger Eustace of Boulogne and many others whom I need not specify. The royal guards of the bishop were few and unarmed, for who would suspect treachery in his company? They leapt down before the walls, calling to the townsmen to open the gates; it was the will of the bishop, there with them; it was the command of the king, though absent. But they, seeing that the bishop’s aspect discountenanced the speaker’s words, suddenly opened the gates, rushed out, took horse and carried them all away bound, with the bishop. Reports of the event speedily reached the king, whose reverse stiffened his purpose; smothering his wrath, he summoned his Englishmen, and bade them gather all their countrymen for the siege, unless they would earn the name of “nithing” (that is, worthless). The English, who reckoned nothing more disgraceful than to be branded with this dishonourable term, flocked in multitudes to the king and made his host invincible. The townsmen could no longer avoid submission, realising that a band of men, however noble, however compact, could avail nothing against the king of England. Odo, taken a second time, abjured England for ever; the bishop of Durham of his own will crossed the sea, the king, out of regard for past friendship, suffering him to escape harmless; while the rest were all admitted to fealty.

ROYAL PROCEDURE AGAINST A BISHOP[22] (1087).

=Source.=--Simeon of Durham, _De injusta vexatione Willelmi episcopi primi_, ed. Arnold, vol. i., p. 171. (Rolls Series.)

King William the younger disseised[23] the bishop of Durham of his own lands and the lands of his church on 4 March, and caused his men and all his goods to be taken, wherever he could; he also ordered the bishop to be taken, and laid many snares for him; but by God’s will the bishop escaped them, and coming to Durham, sent his messenger to the king with the following letter on the very day on which he entered Durham:

“To his lord, William, king of the English, William bishop of Durham, greeting and loyal service. Know, my lord, that your men of York and Lincoln detain my men under arrest, and have seized my lands, and would have taken me also, if they could; and they say that they have done all these things at your command. I request you, therefore, as my lord, to cause my men and my lands to be restored with my chattels to me, as your liege man, whom you have never appealed[24] of any crime, and who has never stood on his defence before you. If you will appeal me hereafter of any crime, I am ready to justify myself before you in your court at a convenient term, on receipt of a safe conduct. But I earnestly beg you not to treat me so basely and dishonourably, nor to disseise me unjustly, upon the advice of my enemies. For it is not every man who may judge bishops, and for my part, saving always my order, I undertake to offer you complete satisfaction; and if at the present you desire to have my service or the service of my men, I offer you the same at your pleasure.”

The king, however, on receiving and hearing the bishop’s letter, gave the bishop’s lands to his barons before the eyes of the messenger whom the bishop had sent, and again commanded the bishop to come to him, on the condition that if he should refuse to abide by the king’s will, he might return safely to Durham. But when the bishop, on hearing this answer, was ready to go to the king, he sent first to the sheriff of York, asking for a safe journey to the king’s presence. But Ralph Paynel, who was then sheriff, refused a conduct not only to the bishop but to all his messengers and men desiring to go to the king; he even seized the bishop’s monk who was returning from the king, and killed his horse, permitting him, however, to go on his way thereafter. Furthermore, on the king’s behalf, he commanded all the king’s men to do harm to the bishop wheresoever and howsoever they could. So, when the bishop was thus prevented from seeking the king either in person or by messenger, and had endured the destruction and devastation of his lands without any retaliation for seven weeks and more, the king at length sent to him the abbot of St. Augustine’s, commanding him, as he had before commanded, to come to his court with the abbot. The bishop, however, fearing the snares of his enemies and the king’s anger, answered that he could not come without a safe conduct, and sent his messengers in the abbot’s company with a letter to the king to that effect....

The king, on seeing this letter, sent the bishop a safe conduct, and assured him by letter that no hurt should be done him by the king himself or his men, until he should have left the king and reached Durham once more. The bishop, therefore, went to the king, and prayed to be put on his trial as a bishop. The king replied that he would consent to a trial only if the bishop would plead in a lay court and forego the safe conduct granted to him; if he should refuse so to plead, he must go back to Durham. The bishop then asked the archbishop of York and the bishops there present to advise him thereon. But the bishops replied that the king had forbidden them to advise him. Then the bishop pressed his archbishop to advise him, as a matter of right, due to his church and to himself. The archbishop therefore made request to the king thereon, but reported to the bishop that it was impossible. So the bishop himself prayed the king to allow him the advice of his archbishop and primate and the bishops, his peers, but the king summarily refused. The bishop then offered to purge himself of the charge of treason and disloyalty; the king, however, rejected the offer, and the bishop returned to Durham. Meanwhile the king had seized there more than 700 men and considerable booty.

Again therefore the bishop sent a letter to the king by one of his monks.... The king replied by seizing and imprisoning the monk who brought it, and sent his army against the bishop; and after the troops had laid waste the bishop’s lands with fire and plunder, the barons opened negotiations with the bishop, and both parties agreed to a solemn covenant....

On the strength of this, the plea was respited on both sides until 10 November, and on that day the bishop came to Salisbury.... The bishop rose in court and prayed the king to restore to him his bishopric, which he had long ago taken from him without a judgment. The king said nothing, but Lanfranc replied, “The king has taken away no part of your bishopric, nor has any other man at his command, nor have you seen his writ disseising you or commanding you to be disseised of your bishopric.” The bishop rejoined, “No, but I have seen Ralph Paynel, and I see him here; and he, by the king’s command, has disseised me of the whole of my bishopric in Yorkshire....” Lanfranc replied, “The king summons you to make your defence to him, and his barons have brought you here to that end; yet you ask that he first make his defence to you! First defend yourself, and then ask what you are now asking.” The bishop said in answer, “My lord archbishop, do you say that by way of advice or by way of judgment?” “By way of advice, of course,” said he, “but if the king will listen to me, he will make a judgment of it soon enough.” At these words of Lanfranc, the primate of all England, the lay barons were aroused and cried out against the bishop, asserting that it was contrary to right that the king should answer the bishop before the latter had justified himself to the king.

The lay barons gave utterance to this and many other statements, with much repetition, but when silence was restored, the bishop said, “My lords, barons and laymen, allow me, I beg you, to say what I have to say to the king, and to make my answer to the archbishops and bishops. I have nothing to say to you, and since I have not come here to receive your judgment, I reject it altogether; even if it had pleased our lord the king and the archbishops and bishops that you should meddle with this matter, it would not have befitted me to submit to such an indignity.” The king then said, “I trusted that the bishop would first answer me touching the charges I make against him; I am astonished that he asks for anything else.” Thereupon earl Alan and earl Roger said, “We have brought the bishop to justify himself to the king.” To which the bishop replied, “Robbed as I am, I am ready to answer, if I be tried canonically, for I will not go one step beyond the law of my order in this suit.” Roger Bigot then said to the king, “You should tell the bishop whereof you appeal him, and afterward, if he refuse to answer to us, cause him to be judged touching his answer; if not, do thereon what your barons advise you.” The bishop rejoined, “I have just said, and I say again, that I reject altogether the judgment of laymen, and anything that contravenes the canons. I accept no accusation, unless I be first invested with my bishopric, or unless it be awarded by a canonical judgment that I must be charged and make answer and be judged before such investiture.” Then Hugh de Beaumont rose by the king’s command and said to the bishop, “The king appeals you of this, that when he learned that his enemies were rising against him, and his men, to wit, the bishop of Bayeux and earl Roger and many others, were attempting to deprive him of his realm and crown, and he, by your advice, rode against them, he summoned you, in my presence, to ride with him, and you answered that you would willingly go with the seven knights whom you had there, and would send to your castle for more with all speed; and afterwards you fled from his court without his licence, taking with you some men of his household, and so failed him in his necessity. And now it is his will that you do thereon to him what his court shall award, and if need be, he will appeal you afterwards of more offences.” The bishop, however, replied to him, “Hugh, say what you like, but you I will not answer today....” Hugh de Beaumont rejoined, “If I today fail to judge you and your order, you or your order shall never judge me again....” The bishop went out with his men, and on his return, Thomas, archbishop of York, said to him, “My lord bishop, our lord archbishop and the king’s court awards that you do right to the king before he reinvest you with your fee....” The bishop said, “The judgment here given I reject, because it contravenes the canons and our law ... and since I am conscious that through the king’s hatred you are all against me, I appeal to the apostolic see, the holy church of Rome, to St. Peter and his vicar....” Thereupon archbishop Lanfranc replied, “We are not judging you touching your bishopric, but touching your fee, and in the same way we judged the bishop of Bayeux before this king’s father, touching his fee; in that suit the king did not summon him as a bishop, but as his brother and as an earl.” The bishop answered, “My lord archbishop, I have not said a word today about a fee, nor have I said that I had a fee; I complained, and I complain still, of the disseisin of my bishopric.” The archbishop rejoined, “I may not have heard you speak of a fee, but I know you had a great fee, and we have judged you thereon.” The bishop replied, “My lord archbishop, I gather now that you have ignored all that I have said, and judge me out of your own knowledge; but though by God’s grace you are exceeding wise and of great reputation, I perceive that in this your wisdom is so high that my humble intelligence cannot grasp it; but I wish to go to the apostolic see, to which of necessity I have appealed, by licence of the king and you.” “Leave us,” said the archbishop, “and the king, after taking counsel, will announce to you his will.” When the bishop had left the room and had been summoned back, Hugh de Beaumont rose and said to him, “My lord bishop, the king’s court and these barons adjudge as just, that since you refuse to answer touching the charge whereon the king through me has appealed you, but cite him on his plea to Rome, you thereby forfeit your fee.”

THE ILLNESS OF WILLIAM RUFUS, AND THE APPOINTMENT OF ANSELM AS ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY (1093).

=Source.=--Eadmer, _Historia Novorum in Anglia_, ed. Rule, p. 30. (Rolls Series.)

One day one of the chief men of the realm, a favourite of the king, happened to say to him among other things in the course of conversation: “We have never known a man of holiness so great, we honestly believe, as Anselm abbot of Bec; he loves nothing beside God, and, as the whole of his work makes manifest, he covets nothing transitory.” The king rejoined with a sneer, “No, not even the archbishopric of Canterbury.” The other replied, “No, not even that has a very great attraction for him, in the opinion of myself and many others.” Whereupon the king swore that the abbot would rush to accept it with open arms, if he had the slightest hope of attaining to it, and added, “But, by the Holy Cross of Lucca,” as he was accustomed to swear, “neither he nor any other shall be archbishop at present, except myself.” He had scarcely spoken when he was seized by illness and took to his bed, growing daily worse until he was at the point of death. Why continue? All the chief men of the whole realm came together, bishops, abbots and all the nobles, looking for nothing but his death. The sick man was urged to take thought for the salvation of his soul, to open the prisons, to set free the prisoners, to unloose the bound, to pardon debts, to restore to liberty the churches still in bondage under his lordship, by setting pastors over them, and above all the church of Canterbury, “the oppression whereof,” they said, “lays a hateful burden upon the whole church of Christ in England.” Anselm at this time, in ignorance of this event, was staying in a town not far from Gloucester, where the king lay sick. He was commanded, therefore, to come to the king with all speed and by his presence to comfort and strengthen him on his deathbed. Hearing such news he made haste to come, and on his arrival came to the king, who asked him what he deemed the most wholesome counsel for a dying man; the abbot asked to be first informed what counsel had been given to the sick prince by those around him before his own coming. He heard and approved, adding: “It is written, ‘Begin by confession to the Lord’; wherefore it seems to me that he should first make a good confession of all that he knows himself to have done against God, and should promise without insincerity to amend all if he recover, and then should order to be performed without delay what you have advised him.” This precise counsel was approved, and the task of hearing the confession enjoined upon the abbot. The king was informed what Anselm had urged as the best means for the saving of his soul, and straightway he acquiesced and with a contrite heart promised to do everything which the abbot’s judgment decided, and to conduct the whole of his life in gentleness and justice. To this he pledged his faith, and made his bishops sureties between him and God, sending one of them in his stead to make this his vow to God upon the altar. The order was written and confirmed by the royal seal, that all prisoners in the whole of his dominion should be released, all debts irrevocably cancelled, and all offences committed hitherto consigned to everlasting oblivion. Moreover righteous and holy laws were promised to all people, the inviolable observance of justice, and a weighty and deterrent trial of abuses. All men rejoiced and God was blessed herein, and urgent prayers were offered for the salvation of so good and great a king.

Thereupon all good men entreated the king to release from her long widowhood the common mother of the whole realm by instituting a pastor thereto. He willingly consented and admitted that he had changed his mind. The question, therefore, was asked, who was most worthy to enjoy this honour, and while all were hanging on the king’s decision, he himself announced, amid the unanimous acclamation of all, that abbot Anselm was worthiest thereof. Anselm was alarmed at his words and grew pale; and when he was forced to approach the king to receive investiture of the archbishopric from his hand by the pastoral staff, he resisted with the whole of his strength, and declared that for many reasons it was altogether impossible.... He said: “I am the abbot of a monastery of another realm, having an archbishop to whom I owe obedience, an earthly prince to whom I owe submission, and monks to whom I owe the ministrations of counsel and assistance. To all these I am so bound that I can neither abandon the monks without their consent, nor loose myself from my prince’s lordship without his permission, nor disown obedience to my bishop without peril to my soul unless he absolve me.” The bishops rejoined, “That is a light matter, all will readily consent.” He replied, “Not so; what you purpose can never be.” Thereupon they dragged him to the sick king and set forth his obstinacy. The king was distressed almost to tears ... but recognising that the labour of all of them was in vain, he ordered them all to fall on their knees at his feet, to see if by that means he could be induced to consent. To what end? When they knelt, he knelt too before them and would not alter his first decision. They were angry with him, and blaming their own stupidity for the delay they had suffered by listening to his objections, they cried out “The pastoral staff, bring the pastoral staff hither.” Then, seizing his right hand, some dragged, others pushed the struggling abbot, and gradually they reached the sick man’s bedside. The king proffered him the staff, but he closed his hand against it and wholly refused to take it. The bishops struggled to unclasp his tightly clenched fingers, that the staff might be thrust into his hand. But after they had wasted their efforts for some time, and he groaned with the pain inflicted upon him, at last his forefinger was raised but bent backwards, the staff was laid against his closed hand and squeezed and held in it by the hands of the bishops. The whole throng cried out, “Long live the bishop,” the bishops and clergy lifted up their voices and began to sing “_Te deum laudamus_,” and carried rather than led the bishop elect to the nearest church, he resisting the while as well as he could, and saying: “It is all void, it is all void.” After they had performed the customary ritual in the church, Anselm was brought back to the king and said to him, “I tell you, my lord king, that you will not die of your illness, and I wish you to know this that you will be able to set right what has now been done with me, for I have not consented and do not consent to its ratification....” The king however ordered him to be invested without delay and diminution with all things belonging to the archbishopric within and without, and further that the city of Canterbury, which Lanfranc in his time held of the king as a fee, and the abbey of St. Albans, which not only Lanfranc but also his predecessors are known to have held, should pass as an alodiary[25] possession for ever to Christ Church, Canterbury, for the redemption of his soul.... The king recovered, as Anselm had foretold, and soon undid all the good that he had decreed in his illness, and ordered it to be annulled. The prisoners who had not yet been released he ordered to be kept more straitly than usual, those who had been released to be retaken if possible, old debts now pardoned to be exacted in full, pleas and offences to be recalled to their original standing, and to be tried and decided by the judgment of men who were concerned rather to subvert justice than to maintain and defend it, and interested rather in oppressing the wretched and in spoiling men of their wealth than in correcting any crime. Wherefore there grew throughout the realm so vast a woe and so woeful a waste that he who remembers it, I judge, remembers to have never seen the like in England. Indeed every evil that the king had done before his illness seemed a good thing in comparison with the evils he did after his return to health. And if any man will know the source from which they flowed, they can judge by his answer to the bishop of Rochester, when the latter in friendly conversation warned him after his recovery that he should in all things behave more circumspectly towards God: “Be sure, bishop,” he said, “by the Holy Cross of Lucca, that God shall never have me good because of the evil He has brought upon me.”

THE QUARREL OF WILLIAM RUFUS AND ANSELM (1093-94).

=Source.=--Eadmer, _Historia Novorum in Anglia_, ed. Rule, p. 47. (Rolls Series.)

At that time the king, straining with all his power to seize Normandy from his brother Robert, spent lavishly on this object a large sum of money collected from every possible quarter, so that he began to experience not a few difficulties which were thought incompatible with the king’s dignity. The new prelate was therefore recommended by his friends to offer to the king 500_l._ of silver, which he did, hoping and believing their promises that hereby he would secure thenceforward the king’s lasting favour, and would obtain his willing support for all godly works, and win peace and protection for the interests of the church within and without against all enemies. The king, hearing of this offer, expressed his thanks with the word “Excellent.” But certain evilminded folk, as usual, induced the king contemptuously to reject the money offered. They said, “Here is a man whom you have honoured, enriched and exalted above all the chief men of England; yet now, when he ought to give you 2000_l._ or at least 1000_l._, considering your necessity, in return for your lavish favours, he offers a miserable 500_l._ Do not put up with it, change your mind, and you will see that he will be influenced by the fear which others feel, and, to recover your goodwill, will be only too glad to double his offer of 500_l._” The king, in fact, pursued this plan with all his subjects; when any of them offered him any money, with the sole desire to gain his favour, he rejected the gift, unless the amount tallied with his desires, and refused to admit the donor to his continued favour, unless he would increase the gift to the king’s satisfaction. These grumblers, therefore, expected that Anselm would be moved by fear like the rest and driven forthwith to fulfil the king’s wishes by increasing the sum. So he was informed that the king had rejected his money, which amazed him. He went to the king and asked if the refusal was the king’s own act or not. Being told that it was so, he expostulated with him, saying, “My lord, I beg you not to do so; do not refuse to take what I now offer you; for though it be your archbishop’s first gift, it will not be the last. Indeed I maintain that it would be more profitable and more honourable to you to take little from me with affectionate freedom and at frequent intervals than to seize much by forcible exactions involving servility. Admit affectionate freedom, and you shall have at your service myself and my all; insist on servility, and you shall have neither.” The king was wroth, and said in a passion, “Mind your own affairs, and I will mind mine; away with you!” He rose and went, meditating, it may be, that it was not without significance that on the first day of his entry into his see the gospel had been, “No man can serve two masters.” Quickly recovering himself, he said, “Blessed be God Almighty, who of His mercy has preserved me from all evil report. For had the king graciously accepted what I offered him, verily the evil men who abound would have deemed it money promised beforehand for the bishopric, and now rendered under the cloak of a free gift. But now what shall I do? I will give the money intended for the king not to him but to Christ’s poor for the ransom of his soul, and will devoutly pray to Christ to pour down His grace upon him and defend me from all evil.” He afterwards sued for the king’s favour by messengers, but obtained it not because he would not double the money, and so after the festival (Christmas) he left the court, busying himself with the distribution of his offering to Christ’s poor, as he had determined....

Some days afterwards, by the king’s command, almost all the bishops assembled at Hastings with the chief men of England, the bishops to bless and the others to accompany the king on his intended passage to Normandy. And father Anselm came also to pray urgently for the protection of the king from the perils of the sea. The wind, however, was unfavourable for the king’s crossing, and king and barons were delayed there more than a month....

On one day he came to the king according to his wont, and sitting by him began to speak thus, “My lord king, you have resolved to cross the sea and subdue Normandy to your sovereignty. But in order that these and other your desires may turn out to your prosperity, I pray you, lend your aid and counsel to the restoration to this your realm of the Christian religion, which has now almost wholly perished in many ways.” He answered, “What aid, what counsel?” “Command,” said Anselm, “if it please you, that councils as of old be held, that things done amiss be discussed in common, and that discussion be followed by trial, trial by conviction and conviction by judgment. For no general council of bishops has been held in England since you became king and for many years before. In consequence many evils have grown up, and with none to check them, have waxed overstrong by the pernicious force of custom.” The king rejoined, “When I think fit, I will deal with these matters, and not at your will but at mine. The question shall be raised later.” And he added with a sneer, “As for you, what do you propose to talk about in a council?...” He replied, “There are many abbeys in the land destitute of their pastors, on account whereof the monks abandon their order for worldly indulgence and pass away without confession. Wherefore I counsel, I pray, I warn you to examine the matter carefully, and to institute abbots according to God’s will, that by the destruction of monasteries and the damnation of monks you yourself come not to perdition, which God forbid.” The king could restrain his anger no longer, but said, quite beside himself with passion, “What business is that of yours? Are not the abbeys mine? What? are you to do as you please with your towns, and not I with my abbeys?” He replied, “They are yours indeed, for you to defend and maintain as their guardian, but they are not yours for you to break into and lay them waste. We know they are God’s, that his ministers may live thereby, and not that your expeditions and wars may be undertaken from their revenues. You have many towns and the rents thereof for the ample administration of your affairs. May it please you to leave to the churches what is theirs?” “By heaven,” said the king, “your words are intolerable; your predecessor would never have dared to speak so to my father. I will do nothing for you.” Anselm realised that he was talking to the winds, and rose and left him.

Feeling, however, that the king’s former anger was manifest in such answers, and reflecting that, if the king’s heart were incensed, there would be no peace, for the sake of the general welfare, and to achieve more abundant results for God by securing the royal favour for himself, he humbly sued the king through the mouth of the bishops, freely to receive him into his friendship. “If he refuses,” he said, “let him say why; and if I have offended, I am ready to make amends.” This was reported to the king, who answered, “I have nothing to blame him for, but I will not extend my favour to him, for I hear no reason why I should.” When the bishops brought this answer, he was puzzled by the words “I hear no reason why I should.” They said, “The mystery is clear enough; if you want peace, you must offer him more money. Lately you proffered him 500_l._, and he refused to take it, because it was too little; if you will take our advice and do what we do in similar circumstances, give him now the same 500_l._ and promise him a like sum to be taken by you from your men; we are sure that he will restore you to favour and permit a peaceable fulfilment of your wishes. We can see no other way out of it, and in our own case, we have no other way in face of such obstacles.” He at once grasped the effect of this advice upon himself, and said “I cannot take that way. You say that though he brings no charge against me, he is yet so much enraged that he can be appeased only by 1000_l._; now if I, a new bishop, can appease him with such a gift, his anger will break out again habitually, demanding a like sop. Apart from that, after the death of Lanfranc, my predecessor, of venerable memory, my men were robbed and plundered; and shall I, before I have done anything to restore their estate, rob them, naked as they are, nay, break the hearts of men already stripped? God forbid....” They replied, “At least, we are sure, you will not refuse the 500_l._ you offered before.” He answered, “I will not give him even that, for when I offered, he rejected it, and besides, I have already given the greater part to the poor, as I promised.” The king was told, and ordered this reply to be brought to him: “Yesterday I hated him much; to-day I hate him more; let him know that to-morrow and after I shall hate him always worse and worse. I will count him no further as father or archbishop; I entirely abominate and curse his blessings and his sermons. He may go where he chooses; let him wait no longer to bless my passage.” So we[26] hastened away from the court and left him to his will. For his part, he crossed to Normandy, and though he spent enormous sums of money, he could by no means conquer it.

THE FIRST CRUSADE (1095).

=Source.=--William of Malmesbury, _De gestis regum Anglorum_, ed. Stubbs, vol. ii., pp. 390, 393, 398. (Rolls Series.)

In the year 1095 after the Incarnation of Our Lord, Pope Urban II., who then filled the apostolic see, passed over the Alps and came to France. The ostensible cause of his coming was that after being driven from Rome by Guibert’s violence he might win over the churches north of the Alps to acknowledge him. His more secret purpose was less well known, to wit, by Bohemond’s counsel, to stir up wellnigh the whole of Europe for an expedition to Asia, so that amid so great a commotion in all countries mercenaries might easily be secured for Urban to attack Rome, and Bohemond Illyria and Macedonia.... However, whatever might have been the occasion of his journey, his coming was of great and glorious benefit to Christians. A council, then, was summoned at Clermont, the most famous city of Auvergne.... A clear and forcible sermon, as a priest’s sermon ought to be, was addressed to the people, touching an expedition of Christians against the Turks.... The audience was filled with enthusiasm, and shouted approval, delighted with the eloquence, and attracted to the pilgrimage; and forthwith, in the council, many of the nobility knelt before the Pope and consecrated themselves and theirs to God’s warfare; among them was Aymer, the mighty bishop of Puy, who afterwards commanded the host with wisdom and increased its numbers with his eloquence. So in the month of November, in which the council was held, all departed to their own homes; and forthwith the report of the good news spread throughout all the world and stirred the hearts of Christians with a pure emotion, which was so universally diffused, that there was no people so remote, so obscure, as not to contribute its proportion; for not only were the Mediterranean countries fired by the enthusiasm, but all who dwelt in the utmost islands or among savage nations and had heard the name of Christ. The Welshman left his forest-hunting, the Scotsman forsook his friendly lice, the Dane abandoned his endless drinking bouts, the Norwegian deserted his raw fish. The husbandmen left the fields, houses were emptied of their inmates, whole cities went abroad. There was no regard for ties, love of country was of small esteem, God alone held men’s vision. Stored up barns, hoarded treasures, all that might satisfy the tiller’s eager hopes or the miser’s greed, were abandoned; they hungered only after the journey to Jerusalem. Joy went with the travellers, grief oppressed those who stayed at home. Those who stayed at home? You might have seen husband and wife and all their children on the march; you would have laughed to see them, furniture and all, setting off in carts. The roads were too narrow, the ways too strait, for those who took the journey, so thick the multitudes jostled and thronged. The number surpassed men’s imagination, though the travellers were estimated at six millions. Never, beyond a doubt, did so many nations combine for one same purpose, never did a host so unorganized submit its undiscipline to one, nay, to no command. For most wonderful of all it was to see so vast a throng move slowly through all Christendom, yet never led to plunder, and none to restrain them. All were afire with mutual love, so that if any man found in his possession what he knew not to be his, he exposed it everywhere for many days to be claimed, and the finder’s desire meanwhile was checked, until the loser’s need might be satisfied.

THE PAWNING OF NORMANDY (1097).

=Source.=--Florence of Worcester, _Chronicon_, ed. Thorpe, vol. ii., p. 40.

After this Robert, duke of the Normans, having determined to set out with others to Jerusalem, sent envoys to England to request his brother king William to renew the peace between them and to lend him 10,000 marks of silver, receiving from him as security the duchy of Normandy. The king, anxious at once to satisfy his request, commanded the nobles of England, each of them according to his means, to advance him money with all speed. Therefore, bishops, abbots and abbesses broke up their gold and silver church-ornaments, and earls, barons and sheriffs despoiled their knights and villeins, and brought to the king a large sum of gold and silver. And he crossed the sea in the month of September, made peace with his brother, lent him 6,666_l._, and received Normandy from him as security.

THE JEWS UNDER WILLIAM RUFUS (1098).

=Source.=--Eadmer, _Historia Novorum in Anglia_, ed. Rule, p. 99. (Rolls Series.)

Over and above the deeds of which we knew the king to be constantly guilty, when we were living in England, news of some fresh atrocity was brought every day by those who came thence, wherein he was understood to be so hardened against God’s righteousness, that many of that country, men and women alike, cherished sentiments about him other than the Christian law teaches Christians to hold about a Christian. And hereon I have thought fit to digress a little, that my charges may not be thought bare assertion. I will set out simply what we heard, without affirming its truth or falsity. Those who came told us that almost at that very time, when the king was staying at Rouen, the Jews dwelling in that city came to him, complaining that some of their number had forsaken Judaism and recently become Christians, and asking the king to take money to force them to reject Christianity and return to Judaism. He consented, received the price of apostasy, and ordered the Jews concerned to be brought to him. What shall I add? Many of them were compelled by his threats and menaces to deny Christ and readopt their former error. Moreover there was at that time a young Jew, to whom one day, as he was walking along the road, another young man appeared, seemly in face and vesture. On being asked whence he came and who he was, he replied that of old he had been converted from Judaism to Christianity, and that he was Stephen, the first martyr. “And I have descended now from Heaven,” he said, “that you may reject the Jewish superstition, and, becoming a Christian, be baptized in Christ by my name.” He spoke and vanished out of sight. The young man was seized with fear and straightway went to a priest and clearly related what he had seen and heard, and confessing that he believed in Christ, forthwith received the grace of baptism. When his father discovered the fact, he was smitten to the heart with sharp grief, and amidst his anxious efforts to find means of restoring his son to his faith, learned that William, king of the English, for the sake of money, had lately given back such converts to Judaism. He went therefore to him and in plaintive tones set forth how he had lost his son. He prayed for his compassion and asked that the boy, whom he loved as an only son, might be restored to his father’s laws by the royal sanction. The king made no answer to his requests, not hearing a reason why he should meddle in such a matter. The Jew understood the secret of his silence and at once promised to give him 60 marks of silver if he would restore his son to Judaism. So the king ordered the young man to be brought before him and addressed him as follows: “Your father complains that you have become a Christian without his permission. If this is so, I command you to satisfy his desire and without any hesitation to return at once to Judaism.” The youth replied “My lord king, I suppose you are jesting.” He replied in a rage, “Jest with you, you guttersnipe? Be off and do at once what I bid you, else, by the Holy Cross of Lucca, I will have your eyes put out....” The young man was driven out and found his father at the door eagerly awaiting the outcome of the matter, and to him he said with anger, “Son of death, heir of eternal perdition, is not your own damnation enough, but you must drag me down with you. Christ has now become my father, and God forbid that I should ever recognize you for my father, for your father is the devil.” While he was speaking, at the king’s order the Jew was ushered into the king’s presence, and the king said to him, “I have done what you asked; pay me what you promised.” He replied, “My son is now more confirmed than ever in his confession of Christ, and has become more bitter against me than before, and yet you say ‘I have done what you asked, pay me what you promised.’ Rather finish first what you began and then discuss promises; for that was the covenant between us.” The king replied “I have done what I could; but, though I have not succeeded, I certainly shall not do something for nothing.” And the trembling Jew had much ado to secure his release from half the sum promised, on payment of the other half.

THE DEATH OF WILLIAM RUFUS (1100).

=Source.=--Florence of Worcester, _Chronicon_, ed. Thorpe, vol. ii., p. 44.

On 4 August ... William the younger, king of the English, while hunting in the New Forest, which is called Ytene in the language of the English, was struck by an arrow carelessly aimed by a Frenchman, Walter, surnamed Tyrel, and died; and his body was carried to Winchester and buried in the old minster in the church of St. Peter. His fate astonished none, for popular report affirmed it to proceed from the great strength and vengeance of God. For in ancient times, to wit, in the days of king Edward and other kings of England, his predecessors, the same district flourished exceedingly with God-fearing inhabitants and with churches; but, at the command of king William the elder, the men were driven away, the houses pulled down, the churches destroyed and the land given over to the habitation only of deer; and that was the cause, so folk believed, of the mischance. For Richard, brother of the same William the younger, had perished in the same forest some time before, and a little while afterward his nephew, Richard, son of Robert duke of the Normans, was struck, while hunting, by an arrow shot by one of his knights, and perished. In the place where the king fell a church had stood in former times, but, as we said before, it was destroyed in the time of his father.

In the days of the same king ... there were many portents in the sun, the moon and the stars; the sea, too, often overflowed the shore and drowned men and beasts, and swept away many towns and houses; in the county of Berkshire, before his death, blood flowed from a well for three weeks; the devil also showed himself to many Normans in horrible shape in the woods, and spoke with them touching the king and Ranulf (Flambard) and certain other persons. And no wonder, for in their time almost all legal justice was silenced, and in causes before the courts money alone swayed the powers that were. In truth at that time many obeyed the king’s will rather than justice, and Ranulf, contrary to ecclesiastical law and the rule of his order (for he was a priest), took from the king at farm first abbeys, and then bishoprics, the prelates whereof were lately dead, and paid to him yearly therefrom large sums of money. His ingenuity and shrewdness were so active and in a short time became so useful, that the king appointed him justiciar and collector of the whole realm. In the enjoyment of such wide powers, everywhere throughout England he exacted fines from the rich and wealthy, despoiling them of their possessions and lands; and incessantly burdened the poor with heavy and unjust taxes, and in many ways, both before he received his bishopric and after, oppressed great and small alike, and that too, until the king’s death.

THE CHARACTER OF THE REIGN OF WILLIAM RUFUS.

=Source.=--_The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle_, ed. Thorpe, vol. i., p. 364. (Rolls Series.)

He was very strong and stern over his land and his men and towards all his neighbours, and much to be feared; and through evil men’s counsels, that were ever comfortable to him, and through his own covetousness, he was ever tormenting this people with an army and unjust taxes, whereby in his days all right fell, and all unright in the sight of God and of the world uprose. God’s churches he brought down; and the bishoprics and the abbeys whereof the heads passed away in his days either he sold them all for money, or held them in his own hand and let them to farm, because he would be the heir of every man, ordained and lay; and so on the day that he died, he had in his own hand the archbishopric of Canterbury and the bishopric of Winchester and the bishopric of Salisbury, and eleven abbacies, all let to farm. And though I take long to tell it, all that was hateful to God and oppressive to men, it was all customary in this land in his times, and therefore he was hateful to well-nigh all his people and loathed of God, as his end bore witness, for he perished in the midst of his unrighteousness, without repentance and any atonement.

THE FOUNDATION OF THE CISTERCIAN ORDER BY STEPHEN HARDING.

=Source.=--William of Malmesbury, _De gestis regum Anglorum_, ed. Stubbs, vol. ii., p. 380. (Rolls Series.)

In his (William Rufus’) days was founded the Cistercian order, which is now believed and alleged to provide the surest path to Heaven. To speak of this here is not irrelevant to the work I have undertaken, since it is England’s glory to have bred the man who was at once the founder and the organizer of this rule. To us he belongs, and in our schools as a boy he passed his early years. Therefore, if we are without envy, we shall the more gratefully cherish his worth, the more intimately we learn of it; at the same time I am myself disposed to sing loud his praises, because it is a noble trait to approve in others those qualities, the lack of which in yourself you regret. Harding was his name among the English, and he was born of no very illustrious parentage. In early youth he was a monk at Sherborne, but when, as he grew up, worldly desires troubled him, disgusted with his cloth, he went first to Scotland and afterwards to France. There, after some years education in the humanities, he felt the prickings of the love of God, for, after his manhood had put away childish follies, he went to Rome with a clerk, his fellow-student; neither the length nor the difficulty of the journey, nor their poverty, could restrain them from chanting daily the whole psalter as they went and returned. Already, indeed, the renowned man was meditating at heart the purpose which by God’s grace he began to execute soon after; returning to Burgundy, he received the tonsure in Molesme, a new and great monastery, and readily acknowledged the first principles of the rule, as he had formerly seen them; but when other observances were proposed to him which he had neither read in the rule nor ever seen, he began to press for the reason of the same, humbly and as becomes a monk.... His opinions, spreading, as happens, from one to another, justly moved the hearts of such as feared God, lest perchance they should run or had run in vain. The question, therefore, was debated in many chapters, and ended in the agreement of the abbot himself that superfluous observances should be given up and only the essential principles followed. Thereupon two of the brethren were chosen, of equal learning and piety, to enquire by vicarious research touching the will of the founder of the rule, and to expound the results of their enquiry to the others. The abbot strove earnestly to obtain the consent of the whole convent, but it is difficult to uproot from men’s minds old habits of thought, since they are reluctant to eschew what they have earliest digested; so well-nigh all refused to accept the new doctrine, because they loved the old. Only eighteen, among whom was Harding (who is also called Stephen), persisted in their holy determination, and left the community with their abbot, declaring that the rule could not be observed in its purity in a place where the soul, in spite of struggle, was overwhelmed by wealth and gluttony. So they came to Cîteaux, a place once simple woodland, but now so marked by the abundant piety of monks, that it is deservedly held to be conscious of the divine presence itself. There, by the countenance of the archbishop of Vienne, now Pope, they entered upon a labour worthy of renown and reverence for all time.

Truly many of their rules seem severe, but these especially: they wear no fur or linen, nor that finely woven woollen cloth which we call _staminium_; they never have breeches, except when they are sent on a journey, and then they wash and give them up on their return; they have two gowns with hoods, but put on no added garment in winter; but in summer, if they choose, they lighten their clothing. They sleep robed and girt, and never return to their beds after matins, but they so order the hour of matins that it shall be light before the _laudes_; they are so careful of the rule that they deem no jot or tittle should be disregarded. Immediately after the _laudes_ they chant the prime, whereafter they go forth to work for stated hours. They accomplish all their labour and chanting for the day without any artificial light. None is ever absent from the daily services, none from compline, except the sick; the cellarer and hospitaller, after compline, serve the guests, observing however the strictest silence. The abbot allows himself nothing that is not allowed to others, and is everywhere present, everywhere tending his flock; only he eats not with the rest, since his table is always with pilgrims and the poor. None the less, wherever he be, he is sparing of speech and food, for neither for him nor for others are laid more than two courses; only the sick may have lard and meat. From 5 September to Easter, regarding no festival except Sundays, they break their fast but once a day. They never leave the cloister except to work, nor do they converse then, or at any time, except in turn to the abbot or prior. They observe unwearied the canonical hours, adding nothing foreign thereto, except a vigil for the dead. They use in divine offices the Ambrosian chants and hymns, so far as they could learn them at Milan. They bestow care on guests and the sick, but inflict intolerable crosses on their own bodies for the salvation of their souls.... In a word, the Cistercian monks are to-day a pattern for all monks, a mirror for the diligent, a spur to the slothful.

FASHIONS AT THE COURTS OF WILLIAM RUFUS AND HENRY I.

=Source.=--William of Malmesbury, _De gestis regum Anglorum_, ed. Stubbs, vol. ii., pp. 369, 530. (Rolls Series.)

Flowing hair was then in vogue, and extravagance of dress; and the fashion of shoes with curved points was then adopted; it was the ambition of the young gallants to rival women in suppleness of limb, in mincing gait, in easy gesture and uncovered bust. Effeminate and soft, they refused to be what birth had made them.

In the twenty-ninth year (of Henry I.) an event occurred in England which may appear strange to our long-haired dandies, who forget their sex and eagerly ape the fashions of women. An English knight, who was proud of his luxuriant hair, was terrified by the pricks of conscience into a dream, in which he thought a man was strangling him with his own locks. Shaken out of his sleep, he straightway cut off his too abundant curls. The fashion spread throughout England, and, since a recent shock commonly stirs the feelings, almost all knights tolerated without ado the reasonable cropping of their hair. But this decency did not last long; scarcely had a year passed, when all who claimed to be men of court lapsed to their earlier vice; they vied with women in the length of their hair, and when they had little, they wore false; forgetful, or rather ignorant, of the saying of the apostle, “If a man have long hair it is a shame unto him.”

THE CHARTER OF HENRY I. (1101).

=Source.=--Richard, Prior of Hexham, _De Gestis regis Stephani_, ed. Howlett, vol. iii., p. 142. (Rolls Series--Chronicles of Stephen, Henry II., and Richard I.)

Henry, by the grace of God king of the English, to all his faithful, as well French as English, of the whole of England, greeting.

Know ye that I, by the mercy of God and by the common counsel of the barons of the realm of England, have been crowned king of the same realm. And because the realm was oppressed by unjust exactions, I, out of reverence for God and out of the love which I have towards all of you, grant first that the Holy Church of God be free, so that I will neither sell it nor put it to farm, nor, upon the death of archbishop or bishop or abbot, will I take aught of the lordship of the church or of the men, until a successor enter therein. And all the evil customs, with which the realm of England was unjustly oppressed, will I remove therefrom. Which evil customs I set forth in part here.

If any of my barons or earls or others who hold of me shall die, his heir shall not redeem his land as he did in the time of my brother, but he shall relieve it with a lawful and just relief. In like manner the men of my barons shall relieve their lands from their lords by a lawful and just relief.

And if any of my barons or other men wish to give his daughter in marriage, or his sister or niece or kinswoman, he shall speak with me thereon. But neither will I take anything of his for licence herein, nor will I forbid him from giving her in marriage, unless he wish to unite her with my enemy. And if, upon the death of a baron or other man of mine, his daughter be left heir, I will give her in marriage with her land by the counsel of my barons. And if a husband die and his wife be left and she have no children, she shall have her dower and marriage, and I will not give her to a husband except according to her will; and if a wife be left with children, she also shall have her dower and marriage, so long as she live chastely, and I will not give her in marriage except according to her will; and the guardian of the children’s land shall be either the wife or another kinsman, who shall have the juster claim. And I command that my barons behave in like manner towards the sons or daughters or wives of their men.

The common moneyage which was taken by cities and by counties, which also was not taken in the time of king Edward, I wholly forbid henceforth. If any man be taken, whether moneyer or other man, with false money, right justice shall be done thereon.

All pleas and all debts which were due to my brother, I pardon, except my right farms, and except those which were agreed upon for the inheritances of others, or for those matters for which others were justly liable. And if any man have made any covenant for his own inheritance, I pardon it, and all reliefs which were agreed upon for right inheritances.

And if any of my barons or men shall fall sick, I grant that, as he shall give his money, or dispose it to be given, it shall be so given. But if he be prevented by battle or sickness and do not give his money or dispose it to be given, his wife or children or kinsfolk, and his lawful men, shall divide it for his soul as shall seem best to them.

And if any of my barons or men shall do amiss, he shall not pledge his money by way of mercy, as he did in the time of my father or my brother, but according to the manner of the fault, so shall he make amends, as he would have made amends before the time of my father in the time of other my predecessors. And if he be convicted of treason or crime, he shall make amends in like manner.

I pardon also all murder-fines incurred before the day on which I was crowned king. And for such as shall be made hereafter, amends shall be made justly, according to the law of king Edward.

By the common consent of my barons I have retained the forests in my hand as my father had them. Of my own gift I grant to the knights, who do service for their lands by hauberk, the lands of their demesne ploughs quit of all gelds and of all work, so that, as they have been relieved at so great a burden, they may so equip themselves well with horses and arms, that they may be prompt and ready for my service and for the defence of my realm.

I establish a firm peace in the whole of my realm and command it to be henceforth observed. I give back to you the law of king Edward, with those amendments by which my father amended it by the counsel of his barons.

If any man have taken aught of mine or of any other man since the death of king William, my brother, the whole shall be restored speedily without amends. And if any man shall retain aught thereof, he in whose possession it shall be found shall make heavy amends to me.

Witness: Maurice bishop of London, and William bishop-elect of Winchester, and Gerard bishop of Hereford, and Henry the earl, and Simon the earl, and Walter Giffard the earl, and R. de Muntfort, and Eudo the butler, and Roger Bigot. Fare ye well.

HENRY I.’S APOLOGY TO ANSELM FOR BEING CROWNED IN THE LATTER’S ABSENCE (1100).

=Source.=--_Epistolæ Anselmi._

Henry by the grace of God king of the English to his most pious spiritual father, Anselm archbishop of Canterbury, greeting and all affection.

Know, dear father, that my brother king William is dead, and that I, by the will of God, elected by the clergy and by the people of England, and now consecrated king, though reluctantly by reason of your absence, request you as my father, together with all the people of England, that as soon as you can you come to give your counsel to me, your son, and to the said people, the care of whose souls has been committed to you. I commit myself and the people of the whole realm of England to the counsel of you and of those who ought with you to give me counsel; and I pray you not to be vexed that I have received the blessing as king in your absence; for as touching that, I would have received it more gladly from you than from any other. But necessity compelled, for enemies wished to rise up against me and the people whom I have to govern, and therefore my barons and the same people refused to permit that it should be longer delayed; wherefore on that account I received it from your vicars. Indeed I would have sent to you certain from my side; by whom I would have also despatched some of my money to you, but by the death of my brother the whole world was so unsettled touching the kingdom of England, that they could not in any wise have come safely to you. Therefore I recommend and warn you not to come through Normandy but by Witsand, and I will cause my barons to meet you at Dover and money to be brought to you; and you shall find resources, God willing, wherefrom you shall be well able to repay any loan you have received. Therefore, my father, make haste to come, that our mother church of Canterbury, long troubled and desolate for your sake, suffer no longer the desolation of souls. Witness bishop Gerard, and William, bishop elect of Winchester, and William Warelwast, and earl Henry, and Robert FitzHamon, and Hamon the sewer,[27] and others as well my bishops as my barons. Farewell.

THE INVESTITURE CONTROVERSY (1100-1107).

=Source.=--Eadmer, _Historia Novorum in Anglia_, ed. Rule, pp. 119, 128, 131, 134. (Rolls Series.)

A few days after his return, Anselm came to the king at Salisbury and was welcomed by him; he accepted the king’s excuse for having assumed the royal dignity without waiting for the benediction of him whose right he knew it to be, and was thereupon required to do homage to the king according to the custom of his ancestors, and to receive the archbishopric from the king’s hand. He answered that in no wise either would he or could he consent so to do, and when asked why, he immediately set forth in plain words what he had agreed to on these and certain other matters in the council at Rome, saying in conclusion, “If the lord the king will accept these terms, and accepting, observe them, there shall surely be a firm peace between us; but if not, I do not see that my remaining in England will be either useful or honest; especially as, if he has granted any bishoprics or abbacies, I must altogether reject communion both with him and with those who have accepted them. I have not returned to England to dwell there, unless the king will obey the Pope of Rome. Therefore I beg that the king will make what order he will, that I may know which way to turn.” The king, on hearing this, was gravely disturbed. It seemed to him a serious matter to lose the investitures of churches and the homage of prelates, but not less serious to suffer Anselm to leave the realm before he himself was fully established on the throne. On the one hand he thought he would be losing as it were half the realm, and on the other he feared that Anselm would go to his brother Robert, who had by that time returned to Normandy from Jerusalem, and persuading him to submit to the apostolic see, which he knew to be a most easy thing to do, would make him king of England. A truce, therefore, from controversy on either side was asked for until Easter.... To this Anselm consented....

Not long after ... a friendly letter was sent by the king to him.... asking him to come to the king, who wished the matter to be settled and had another plan. Hoping to hear that God of his grace had touched the king’s heart, he went, as he was ordered, to Winchester. There the bishops and chief men of the realm were gathered together, and by their common assent Anselm agreed that ... envoys should be sent by both parties to Rome to explain to the Roman pontiff face to face that either he must abandon his original decision, or submit to the expulsion of Anselm and his party from England and lose the submission of the whole realm and the profits which he was accustomed to derive yearly from the same. Two monks therefore were sent by Anselm, to wit, Baldwin of Bec and Alexander of Canterbury, not indeed to urge the Roman pontiff in any way to abate the rigour of justice on Anselm’s behalf, but partly to bear testimony of the threats of the court which the Pope must straightway believe, and partly to bring back to Anselm a final decision from the apostolic see. To accomplish the same purpose the king sent three bishops, Gerard of Hereford, lately made archbishop of York, Herbert of Thetford and Robert of Chester....

The journey at length accomplished, the envoys reached Rome together, and announced the cause of their coming to the apostolic ears, each party presenting its own case, and humbly asked for the Pope’s counsel to put an end to the quarrel. He heard their story and found no words in which to express his amazement. But when he was urgently pressed by the bishops to consult his own interests and mitigate the strictness of his predecessor’s rigid decision, that peace might everywhere abound, he declared that he would not do it even to ransom his person. “Shall one man’s threats,” he asked with indignation, “drive me to annul the decrees and institutes of the holy fathers?” That was the end of the matter. Hereupon he sent letters to the king and Anselm, one to each ... which we set out before our readers’ eyes, the better to reveal their contents:

“Paschal the bishop, servant of the servants of God, to his dear son Henry, king of the English, greeting and apostolic benediction.

“We give thanks to the Lord, the King of kings, who by the grace of His goodwill has raised you to the throne, and by the grace of His goodwill and of His ineffable mercy has watched over you as a Christian king. We ask, therefore, that He may make the good beginnings of your reign grow to better things, and to the end watch over His gifts bestowed upon you. For you have repudiated the impiety of the king your brother, which, as you see, has been terribly avenged by the divine judgment; you have restored the churches to freedom, you have begun to honour the clergy and to reverence their heads, the bishops, and in them Christ the Lord. We are therefore confident that you will be equally wise to the end and persevere in the same excellence; except that there are men of perverse spirit who strive to prepare your royal heart for divine wrath through the investiture of bishops and abbots. Their counsels in this behalf should be shunned by you like poison, that you offend not Him by whom kings reign and the mighty decree justice. If you propitiate Him, of a truth your reign will be blessed, and you will win undisputed power and riches. But if, which God forbid, you offend Him, neither the counsels of barons, nor the aid of knights, nor arms nor riches will avail to help you when He shall begin to overthrow you. In the honour of God, in the liberty of the church, you shall have in us a friend and helper. Be sure that no man shall wrest you from our friendship, if you abstain from investitures, if you yield to the church due honour and preserve its freedom ordained by God. Indeed, by the judgment of the Holy Ghost, we prohibit kings and princes and all laymen alike from investitures of churches. It is not fit that a mother should be sold into slavery by a son, receiving a spouse whom she has not chosen. For her Spouse she has our King and Lord, and may He keep you of His mercy in power and piety, and lead you from an earthly to a heavenly kingdom. Amen.”

* * * * *

“Paschal the bishop, servant of the servants of God, to his venerable brother and fellow-bishop, Anselm, greeting and apostolic benediction.

“You are not ignorant that it is by the counsel of the divine will that your piety presides over the realm of England. For when, to avoid the hatred of a perverse king, you chose to withdraw and to dwell by yourself far from the turmoil of England, living unto God, Almighty God wrought an awful judgment upon the perverse king. But by the vehement demand of the whole people and by the wonderful devoutness of the new king, you have been recalled to the primacy which for God’s sake you abandoned. Thanks be to God that episcopal authority ever abides in you, and that though you are set among a barbarous folk, you cease not to proclaim truth in spite of the violence of tyrants and the favour of the mighty, in spite of the kindled fire and the outstretched hand. We ask therefore that what you are doing, you continue to do, that what you proclaim, you proclaim to the end. For the inspiration of Him, Who in the beginning was the Word, shall not be wanting to our words and works. Nor will we be wanting to Him Who is the power of God and the wisdom of God. For we believe that we have the same inspiration as our fathers, wherefore also we now speak.... In the truth thereof we will guard against the lies of men. Wherefore in the late Lateran council we re-enacted the famous decrees of our fathers, proclaiming and prohibiting that no clerk whatsoever accept churches or ecclesiastical gifts from the hand of a layman; for this is the root of the vice of simony, when fools strive to win the favour of secular persons in order to receive the honours of the church. Therefore the reverend majesty of holy councils has decreed that ecclesiastical elections shall be guarded from the power of secular princes, in order that, as through Christ only is the door of the church first opened to eternal life in baptism and at the last in death, so through Christ only shall be appointed the door-keeper of Christ’s fold, by whom Christ’s sheep, not for hire but for Christ, shall be led in and out to life eternal. These things, dear brother, might be treated at greater length both in speech and argument, but it is enough to have set forth a few considerations to your wisdom, which abounds in divine utterances and is familiar with ecclesiastical arguments. Teach these things, as you know befits your primacy, which, moreover, we confirm to you as fully and entirely as it was ever held by your predecessors, adding for ourselves that so long as the divine mercy shall preserve your piety in the realm of England, you shall not be subject to the judgment of any legate, but only of ourself.”

... On the return of the bishops and others who, as we have said, were sent to Rome, the king, summoning the chief men of the realm to London, called on Anselm by messenger according to wont, either no longer to oppose him and the customs of his predecessors, or to give up his primacy of the realm. He replied, “Let the king be pleased to permit examination of the letters which have been brought, and, saving my honour and my obedience to the apostolic see, I will do all in my power to submit to his will.” The king replied, “Let his own be examined, if he chooses, but mine shall certainly not be shown at present.” He answered, “When it shall please the king to show it at another time, he shall find me ready to meet his present demands.” The king rejoined, “I have no concern with letters, nor will I; let him say in plain speech whether he will obey my will in all things.” On hearing this many were filled with a great wonder, arguing that if the letter had coincided with the king’s wishes, he would have made the contents public of his own will, without any reference to Anselm. At that time they were not known to us, yet the more anxiously their secrecy was then preserved, the more openly were their contents known a few days later. When the letter to Anselm had been read and read again before all who would hear it, the bishops who had come from Rome asserted that they had received from the Pope at Rome a verbal assurance quite contrary to the tenour of that letter and even to the letter which they had brought to the king. Asked what it was, they declared on their word as bishops that the Pope himself had sent a message for the king’s private ears, that as long as he lived the life of a good prince in other ways, he would willingly bear with him on the matter of investitures of churches, and would refrain from imposing the ban of excommunication if he should invest religious persons by the gift of the pastoral staff. He had refused to entrust to writing the honour of a concession so great in case it should be brought to the knowledge of other princes, who might usurp the same privilege and despise the authority of the Roman pontiff....

On the first of August (1107) a council of the bishops, abbots and chief men of the realm was held at London in the king’s palace, and for three whole days the question of the investitures of churches was discussed by the king and the bishops in Anselm’s absence, some urging upon him to maintain the practice of his father and brother in defiance of the apostolic command. For the Pope, taking a firm stand upon the decree which had been published thereon, had conceded the homage which Pope Urban had prohibited equally with investitures, and thereby secured the king’s consent to his view of the investitures.... Afterwards, in the presence of Anselm, and the whole council standing, the king agreed and ordained that from that time forward no man should be invested in any bishopric or abbey by the king or the hand of any layman in England by the giving of the pastoral staff or ring, Anselm on his side granting that no man elected to be a prelate should be deprived of consecration to the dignity he had received, by reason of the homage which he should do to the king. Upon this settlement of the dispute, institutions were made by the king, without investiture of the pastoral staff or ring, by the counsel of Anselm and the chief men of the realm, to almost all the churches of England, so long bereft of their pastors.

OPPRESSIVE TAXATION UNDER HENRY I. (1105).

=Source.=--Eadmer, _Historia Novorum in Anglia_, ed. Rule, p. 184. (Rolls Series.)

The character and number of the burdens, under which the whole of England was crushed at this time, are difficult, I know, to describe. For the king, leaving Normandy because he could not conquer the whole of it by the means described above,[28] returned to England to collect larger supplies of money with which he might go back and subdue the remainder, disinheriting his brother. In the levying of this money the collectors showed no regard for pity or mercy, but all men suffered a ruthless and outrageous exaction, as those who came to us testified. Indeed you might have seen men who had nothing to give driven from their own homes, or the doors of their houses torn off and carried away, and themselves exposed to wholesale plunder; or they were reduced to extreme poverty, their mean furniture being seized, or at any rate persecuted and tortured in other shameful ways. Against those who were thought to have any wealth certain new and ingeniously devised penalties were charged, and so, when they dared not venture to implead the king for the defence of their land, their possessions were seized and themselves reduced to serious distress. But these measures perhaps will be deemed slight by some, because they were not peculiar to king Henry’s reign; many a like oppression had been committed under his brother, not to mention his father king William. Yet they were thought harder and more intolerable, because much less than usual was found to be extracted from a people already despoiled and exhausted. But further, in the council of London ... all priests and monks of England had been prohibited from marriage, and this prohibition, during Anselm’s exile, had been violated by many, who still retained or at least took back their wives. The king, refusing to allow this sin to go unpunished, ordered his ministers to implead the offenders and take fines from them to expiate their sin. But since many of them were found innocent of this offence, the money demanded for the king’s use amounted to a smaller sum than the collectors could have desired. Therefore they changed their plan, the innocent were involved with the guilty in a universal charge, and all parish churches were put in the king’s debt and every one ordered to be redeemed by the parson who served God therein. It was pitiful to behold. When the fury of this exaction was at its height, and some men, who either had nothing to give, or, in detestation of the outrageous measure, refused to give on such a ground, and were contemptuously robbed, imprisoned and tortured, the king chanced to come to London; there nearly two hundred priests assembled, it is said, robed in their albs and priestly stoles, and with naked feet approached the king on his way to the palace. But, as it happened, his thoughts were much occupied, and he was entirely unmoved to pity by their prayers, or at any rate deemed them unworthy of the honour of an answer, as if they were men destitute of all religion, and ordered them to be driven at once out of his sight. Their confusion thus worse confounded, they approached the queen and begged her to intercede; but though, it is said, she was moved by pity to tears, she was held back by fear from intervening.

THE BATTLE OF TENCHEBRAI (1106).

=Source.=--Eadmer, _Historia Novorum in Anglia_, ed. Rule, p. 184. (Rolls Series.)

Meanwhile the king conquered Normandy in battle, and forthwith notified the fact to Anselm by the following letter:

“Henry, king of the English, to Anselm, archbishop of Canterbury, greeting and affection. We make known to your paternity and holiness that Robert duke of Normandy, with all the forces of knights and footmen which he could collect by prayer or for hire, on a day named and agreed on, fought a sharp fight with me at Tenchebrai; and at last by God’s mercy we defeated him, and that without much loss on our side. What more should I say? The divine mercy has given into our hands the duke of Normandy, the count of Moretuil, William Crispin, William de Ferrers and Robert de Stuteville the elder, and other knights to the number of four hundred, and ten thousand footmen, and Normandy itself. The number of those slain by the sword was not great. This victory, however, I attribute not to my own glory or vanity or strength, but to the blessing of divine providence. Wherefore, reverend father, humbly and devoutly I bow the knee to your holiness and beseech you to beseech the supreme Judge, whose award and pleasure has granted this triumph, so glorious and so profitable to me, that it may not turn to my loss and damage, but to the beginning of good works and the service of God, and to the maintenance and strengthening of the estate of God’s Holy Church in peace and tranquillity, that henceforth it may persist in freedom and not be shaken by any shock of battle.”

Many men therefore argued that the king had gained this victory because of his agreement with Anselm.

CONSOLIDATION OF THE POWER OF HENRY I. (1107).

=Source.=--Henry of Huntingdon, _Historia Anglorum_, ed. Arnold, p. 236. (Rolls Series.)

The Lord rendered to duke Robert his deserts, because, after He had granted him glory in the wars of Jerusalem, he refused the offer of the kingdom of Jerusalem, choosing rather to be enslaved by the peace and sloth of Normandy than to sweat in the Holy City for the King of kings. Therefore God condemned him to lasting inactivity and perpetual imprisonment. In proof hereof a comet had appeared in the same year, and on the day of the Lord’s Supper two full moons were seen, one in the east and the other in the west.

In the seventh year of his reign, king Henry, having now destroyed or conquered his enemies, disposed the affairs of Normandy at his pleasure and returned to England, casting into dark dungeons his brother, the illustrious duke, and the count of Moretuil. Victorious, and now for the first time undisputed king, he held his court at Easter in Windsor, where the barons both of England and Normandy assembled in fear and trembling. For before, both while he was young and after he became king, he had been held in the greatest contempt; but God, Who judges far otherwise than the sons of men, Who exalts the humble and puts down the mighty, deposed the famous Robert from the favour of all men, and commanded that the glory of the despised Henry should shine to the ends of the earth. Freely the Lord Almighty gave to him three gifts, wisdom, victory and riches, and herewith he prospered in all things and surpassed all his predecessors.

HENRY I.’S CHARTER OF LIBERTIES TO THE CITY OF LONDON.

=Source.=--Rymer, _Fædera_, vol. i., p. 11.

Henry by the grace of God king of the English to the archbishop of Canterbury and his bishops and abbots and earls and barons and justices and sheriffs and all his trusty men, French and English, of the whole of England, greeting. Know ye that I have granted to my citizens of London that they hold Middlesex at farm for 300_l._ at account, to them and their heirs, of me and my heirs, so that the citizens appoint as sheriff whom they choose from among themselves, and as justice whom they choose from among themselves, to keep the pleas of my crown and to hold the same pleas; and no other shall be justice over the same men of London. And the citizens shall not plead outside the walls for any plea, and they shall be quit of scot and of lot, of Danegeld and murder-fine, and none of them shall suffer trial by battle. And if any of the citizens be impleaded of pleas of the crown, a man of London shall make his proof by the oath that shall be adjudged in the city. And within the walls of the city no man shall be lodged either of my household or of another’s, unless lodging be delivered to him. And all men of London and all their possessions shall be quit and free, throughout the whole of England and throughout seaports, of toll and passage[29] and lastage[30] and all other customs. And the churches and the barons and the citizens shall have and hold their sokes[31] duly and peaceably with all customs, so that guests lodged in their sokes give their customs to none save to him whose soke it is, or to the minister whom he shall set there. And a man of London shall not be adjudged to a money penalty, except to his “wer,”[32] to wit, 100_s._; I speak of pleas to which a money penalty is attached. And there shall no longer be “miskenning”[33] in the husting or in the folkmoot or in other pleas within the city. And the husting shall sit once a week, to wit, on Monday. And I will cause my citizens to have their lands and wardmoot and debts within the city and without. And I will award them right by the law of the city touching the lands whereto they shall lay claim before me. And if any man take toll or custom from the citizens of London, the citizens of London shall take from the borough or town where the toll or custom was taken as much as the man of London gave by way of toll, and further he shall take his damages. And all debtors who owe debts to the citizens shall render the same to them or shall prove in London that they owe nothing. And if they refuse to render the debts or to bring it to proof, then the citizens to whom their debts are due shall take their pledges within the city or from the county in which the debtor dwells. And the citizens shall have their chaces for chasing as well and fully as their ancestors had the same, to wit, Ciltre and Middlesex and Surrey. Witnesses:--the bishop of Winchester, Robert son of Richer, and Hugh Bigot, and Alfred de Toteneis, and William Albini, and Hubert the king’s chamberlain, and William de Montfichet, and Hagulph de Tani, and John Belet, and Robert son of Siward. Given at Westminster.

SOCIAL EVILS AND DRASTIC PUNISHMENTS (1108).

=Source.=--Eadmer, _Historia Novorum in Anglia_, ed. Rule, p. 192. (Rolls Series.)

Meanwhile king Henry, noting that wellnigh the whole of the realm had sunk for many causes into deep misery, began to consider, by the advice of Anselm and the chief men of the realm, how to palliate in some way the evils by which especially the poor were weighed down. He wisely began this good work with his own court. In the time of the king, his brother, a great number of the company that followed his court were in the habit of destroying and plundering indiscriminately, and without any check or restraint, of wasting the whole of the land through which the king passed. Another evil supervened. Most of them, drunk with their own malice, when they could not altogether consume all that they found in the houses into which they forced their way, used to have the residue taken to the market place by the very possessors and sold for their private profit, or to light a fire and destroy it, or, if it were drink, to wash their horses’ feet with it and pour the remainder on the ground, or at any rate make away with it in some other manner.... For these causes all men, on hearing of the king’s coming, used to fly from their dwellings, in their anxiety for themselves and their households, and make for the woods or other places where they hoped to secure protection. King Henry, eager to do away with this curse, published a prohibition, and with stern and steady justice punished all who could be convicted of any of the practices I have spoken of, by causing their eyes to be plucked out, or their hands or feet or other members to be cut off. This justice was suffered by many and proved a visible deterrent to the rest from inflicting injury on others, if they would save whole their own persons.

THE SHIPWRECK OF WILLIAM, SON OF HENRY I. (1120).

=Source.=--William of Malmesbury, _De gestis regum Anglorum_, ed. Stubbs, vol. ii., p. 495. (Rolls Series.)

By Matilda king Henry had a son named William, trained and destined to the succession with tender hopes and great anxiety; he was hardly twelve years old before all freemen of England and Normandy, of every condition and rank, to what lords soever they owed fealty, were compelled to become his men by homage and oaths. As a boy he espoused and took to wife the daughter of Fulk count of Anjou, herself but a girl, receiving from his father-in-law the county of Maine for her dower; moreover, when Fulk was bent on his journey to Jerusalem, he commended his county to the king, if he should live, to go to his son-in-law if he should not return. Many countries, therefore, awaited the boy’s governance, and it was thought that he would fulfil the prophecy of king Edward, and it was said that the hope of England, cut down like a tree, would burst again into flower in his person, put forth fruit, and so might an end of evil be looked for. God willed otherwise. This hope was shattered, for he was destined to an untimely end. It happened that by the exertions of his father-in-law, and of Theobald son of Stephen and Adela his aunt, Louis king of France granted the lad Normandy, that after homage done he might hold it by lawful right; this was planned and brought to effect by the astuteness of his father, that the homage, which he disdained to do himself by reason of his high sovereignty, might be done by a tender child, who, it was supposed, was unlikely to live. The negotiations and peaceable settlement of these schemes occupied the king for a space of four years, during the whole of which he stayed in Normandy. And yet the peace, so brilliant, so carefully devised, and the hopes of all men, raised so high, were brought to confusion by the uncertainty of man’s lot. It was decided to return to England, and on the evening of the 24th of November the king set sail at Barfleur; a fair breeze filled his sails and brought him safe to his realm and noble heritage. But the young man, now seventeen years of age and a little more, endowed by his father’s bounty with every honour except the name of king, ordered another ship to be made ready for himself; and almost all the young nobility, sharing with him the pleasures of youth, flocked in his train. The sailors had drunk too freely, and the drink excited their seaman’s enthusiasm; they swore that those who had started first must speedily be left astern; for the ship was excellent and fresh-fitted with new planks and rivets. The night was now dark, when the young and inexperienced band, overcome with drink, pushed out from the shore. The ship flew swifter than the winged arrow, and cutting through the curling billows, by the crew’s drunken carelessness struck on a rock rising out of the sea not far from the shore. The wretched men jumped up and shouting wildly strove long to push the ship off the rock with their iron boat-hooks; but fortune was against them and all their efforts were useless. The oars also were dragged against the rock and snapped, and the forepart hung jambed and shattered; and now some were washed overboard, and others were drowned by the inrushing water, when the ship’s boat was at length pushed off, and the king’s son put in it; he could have reached the shore in safety, had not his sister, the countess of Perche, struggling with death in the larger vessel, with shrieks implored her brother’s help, and begged him not to abandon her so cruelly. He was moved with pity, ordered the skiff to be brought close to the ship to rescue his sister, and thus through tenderness of heart pitifully met his death; for at once a crowd of men jumped into the boat and upset it, and all alike sank to the bottom. Only one man, a rustic, escaped, and by clinging to the mast all night lived to tell the whole tragic story the next day. No ship ever brought on England misery so great, no ship was so notorious throughout the world. With William perished also Richard, another son of the king, the child of a woman without rank, born before his accession to the throne, a young man of excellent parts and dear to his father for his devoted service; also Richard earl of Chester and his brother Otwell, the tutor and guardian of the king’s son; also the king’s daughter, the countess of Perche, and his niece, the sister of Theobald, countess of Chester; and indeed almost the whole flower of the court, whether knight or chaplain, and the sons of the nobility in training for knighthood; for, as I have said, they flocked to him from all sides, hoping to gain no small glory from either amusing or serving the son of the king. The disaster was increased by the difficulty of recovering their bodies, which could not easily be found by the searchers scattered along the coast; their noble limbs became food for the cruel monsters of the deep.

The news of the prince’s death caused remarkable changes. His father abandoned the celibacy observed by him after Matilda’s death, scheming to beget heirs from a new queen. His father-in-law, on the other hand, on his return home from Jerusalem, faithlessly joined the party of William, son of Robert duke of Normandy, giving to him in marriage his second daughter and the county of Maine, his wrath being roused and sharpened against the king for keeping the dowry of his daughter in England after the prince’s death.

A NORMAN PRELATE.

=Source.=--Henry of Huntingdon, _Epistola de Contemptu Mundi_, ed. Arnold, p. 299. (Rolls Series.)

Experience of evil is a fatal hook to catch at men’s hearts and enslave them to riches and transitory pleasures. This I have learned from my own life. For when I was a child, a boy and a young man, I used to see the glory of Robert, our bishop, his gallant knights, his noble pages, his costly horses, his vessels of gold and silver gilt, his store of plate, his gorgeous waiting-men, his purple robes and fine linen, and I thought there could be no happier condition. And when all men, even they who lectured in the schools on the vanity of the world, were obsequious to him, and he himself, honoured as the father and god of all, loved and valued the world overmuch, with what countenance, with what temper would I have regarded any man who should have told me then that this splendour, which all admired, was contemptible? I would have judged him more mad than Orestes, more querulous than Thersites. I thought there could be no flaw in the exalted happiness of so exalted a man. But when I became a man, I heard stories of the vilest abuse being levelled at him, and felt that I would have fainted if the same words had been spoken to me, who possess nothing, before the same high audience. I began therefore to deem of less account that inestimable happiness.

But since many worldly folk commonly experience the bitterest reverses before their death, I will relate what befel him before his end. He who had been justiciar of the whole of England and greatly feared by all men, was twice impleaded by the king at the end of his life before a justice of low birth, and twice condemned with disgrace in the heaviest damages; whereby his anguish of heart so affected him, that when I, now his archdeacon, sat by him at dinner, I saw that he had been moved to tears. I asked the cause, and he replied, “At one time my attendants were sumptuously clothed; now the fines exacted by the king, whose favour I have always sought, have reduced them to sheepskins.” After this his despair of winning the king’s friendship was so great that when the high praise lavished on him by the king in his absence was reported to him, he said with a sigh, “The king only praises a subject whom he has determined utterly to ruin.” For king Henry, if one may dare to say so, exercised consummate duplicity and possessed an inscrutable mind. A few days afterwards, at Woodstock, where the king had appointed a hunt, while conversing with the king and the bishop of Salisbury, who were the highest in the kingdom, our bishop was struck with apoplexy. Alive, but speechless, he was carried into his house, and soon afterwards died in the king’s presence. The great king, whom he had always served, whom he had loved much and feared much, whom he held in such honour, whom he trusted so entirely, no more availed him in his last necessity than a beggar. Note therefore that it was not said in vain, “Cursed be he that trusteth in man and maketh flesh his arm.” When therefore the child or the boy or the young man regards the prosperous, let him take thought of the uncertainty of their end, and remember that even in this world they may be doomed to suffer a decline full of misery. Bishop Robert was gentle and humble, advancing many and crushing none, the father of orphans, beloved by his household; yet this was the end of him.

THE ORGANISATION OF THE EXCHEQUER.

=Source.=--Richard, son of Nigel, _Dialogus de Scaccario_, ed. Hughes, Crump, and Johnson, p. 60.

_What the Exchequer[34] is, and what is the reason of this term?_

_Disciple._ What is the Exchequer?

_Master._ The Exchequer is a rectangular board about ten feet in length and five in breadth, set like a table for those who sit round it, and on every side it has an edge about four fingers high, that nothing set thereon may fall off. Over the top of the Exchequer is placed a cloth, bought in the Easter term, not any sort of cloth, but black marked with stripes, which are separated from each other by the space either of a foot or of a hand’s breadth. And in the spaces there are counters placed according to their value.... Now, though such a board is called the Exchequer, yet this term is transferred also to the court itself, when the Exchequer is sitting; so that if any man obtain aught by an award, or anything be decreed by common counsel, it is said to have been done at the Exchequer of this or that year. And where men say to-day “at the Exchequer,” they used to say “at the tallies.”

_D._ What is the reason of this term?

_M._ No better one occurs to me at present than that its shape is like that of a chessboard.

_D._ Would the wisdom of the ancients ever have so called it for its shape only, when for a like reason it might have been called “the Board?”

_M._ I was right in calling you particular. There is another but a less obvious reason. As in a game of chess there are certain ranks of combatants, which advance or stand still by certain rules or limitations, some presiding and others preceding: so here some preside and others assist by reason of their office, and none is free to transgress the established rules.... Moreover, as in chess the battle is fought between kings, so here it is mainly between two that the war is waged and the battle fought, to wit, the treasurer, and the sheriff who sits there to render account; the others sitting by as judges, to look on and give judgment.

THE DEVELOPMENT OF EXCHEQUER PROCEDURE IN RELATION TO ROYAL REVENUE.

=Source.=--Richard, son of Nigel, _Dialogus de Scaccario_, ed. Hughes, Crump, and Johnson, p. 89.

_By whom and for what cause the testing of silver was instituted?_

_D._ By whom and for what cause was the testing or combustion instituted?

_M._ In order that this may be clear to you, we must go back a little further. In the original condition of the realm after the Conquest, as we have learned from our fathers, only victuals were paid to the kings from their lands, and not gold or silver by weight, and from such payments were supplied the necessaries for the daily use of the royal household; and those who had been appointed for this purpose knew certainly how much came from each estate. But for the payments or gifts to the knights and for other necessary things, money by tale[35] accrued from the pleas of the realm and from covenants,[36] and from the cities or castles where agriculture was not pursued. This practice, then, continued during the whole time of king William I., and as late as the times of king Henry his son; in fact, I myself have seen people who saw victuals brought at stated times from the royal estates to the court; and the officials of the royal household knew precisely from which counties wheat, and from which different kinds of meat or fodder for horses or any other necessaries, were due. Upon payment of these supplies according to the established amount of each, the royal officials put them to the sheriff’s account, reducing them to a sum of money; to wit, for a measure of wheat sufficient to make bread for a hundred men, 1_s._; for the carcase of a fattened ox, 1_s._; for a ram or a sheep, 4_d._; and for the fodder of twenty horses, also 4_d._ But as time went on, when the same king was occupied beyond seas and in remote parts, repressing the tumult of war, it came to pass that the sum necessary to meet these operations was paid to him in money by tale. Meanwhile a grumbling multitude of husbandmen used to flock to the king’s court, or, what he thought worse, often used to press about him as he passed by, offering their ploughs as a sign of the decay of agriculture, for they were oppressed by innumerable hardships on account of the victuals, which they brought from their homes through all parts of the realm. The king listened to their complaints, and after taking counsel with the nobles, sent throughout the realm the wisest and most discreet men whom he knew for the purpose. They went about surveying the several estates with their own eyes, and, valuing the victuals paid from them, reduced the same to a sum of money. They decreed, further, that for the sum total of the amounts arising from all the estates in one county the sheriff of that county should be holden at the Exchequer; adding that he should pay by scale, that is, 6_d._ on each pound by tale. For they thought that in course of time it might well happen that the money, then good, might deteriorate. In this opinion they proved right. So they were forced to decree that the farm of manors should be paid not only by scale but by weight, which could only be done by making considerable additions. This rule of payment was observed for many years at the Exchequer, and so in the old yearly rolls of that king you will often find written “in the treasury 100_l._ by scale,” or, “in the treasury 100_l._ by weight.” Meanwhile an able man arose, farseeing in counsel, eloquent in speech, and by God’s grace preeminent in his immediate grasp of the deepest matters; you would say that he fulfilled what is written, “the grace of the Holy Ghost knows not slow movements.” He was summoned to the court by the king, obscure but not without nobility, and taught by his example “how extreme poverty is the school of men.” Increasing in favour with the king, the clergy and the people, he was made bishop of Salisbury, enjoyed the highest offices and honours in the realm, and possessed a consummate knowledge of the Exchequer. As to this there is no room for doubt, for the rolls themselves prove clearly that the Exchequer prospered exceedingly under him. And it is from his stores that the little knowledge we possess has trickled down. On this subject I refrain at present from speaking at length, since owing to the position which he filled, he has left behind him a lasting memorial of his high genius. Afterwards by the king’s order he came to the Exchequer; and after having sat there for some years, he found that the method of payment described above failed to satisfy the treasury to the full; for though it appeared to obtain its dues by tale and by weight, it was defrauded in actual substance. For it did not follow that if a man had paid for a pound 20_s._ by tale, even if the shillings corresponded to a pound in weight, he had therefore paid a pound of silver; for the money paid by him might have been mixed with copper or any ore, since no test was applied. In order, therefore, that the royal and the public advantage might at the same time be provided for, it was decreed, after consultation with the king himself, that the combustion or testing of the farm should be made in the aforesaid manner.

_D._ Why do you say “the public advantage?”

_M._ Because the sheriff, feeling aggrieved by the combustion of the debased money, when he is about to pay his farm, takes careful heed that the moneyers set under him do not transgress the established law; and when offenders are caught, they are so punished that others may be deterred by the example made of them.

THE OATH OF THE BARONS TO SUPPORT THE SUCCESSION OF MATILDA THE EMPRESS (1126).

=Source.=--William of Malmesbury, _De gestis regum Anglorum_, ed. Stubbs, vol. ii., p. 528. (Rolls Series.)

In the twenty-seventh year of his reign, king Henry came to England in the month of September, bringing his daughter with him; and at Christmas following he summoned to London a large number of the clergy and the barons, and there gave the county of Salop to his wife, the daughter of the Count of Louvain, whom he had wedded after Matilda’s death; grieved that she had no issue, and fearing that she would remain childless, he was meditating, with well-founded anxiety, the question of his successor to the throne. This matter had already been debated at length, and at this council he constrained and bound with an oath all the barons of the whole realm, and bishops and abbots also, to accept as their lady his daughter Matilda, formerly empress, without any delay or hesitation, if he should die without heir male. He pointed out how disastrous to the country had been the loss of his son, William, to whom the realm of right belonged; now there survived his daughter, in whom alone inhered the lawful succession, from her grandfather, her uncle and her father, all kings, and on her mother’s side, for centuries past....

So all who were thought to be of weight in this council, took the oath; first, William, archbishop of Canterbury, then the rest of the bishops, and the abbots also. The first of the laity to take the oath was David, king of Scotland, the empress’s uncle; then Stephen, count of Mortain and Boulogne, nephew of king Henry by his sister Adela; then Robert, the king’s son, born before he came to the throne, whom he had created earl of Gloucester.... There was, it is said, a remarkable dispute between Robert and Stephen, who strove in generous rivalry to be the first to take the oath, the one alleging the son’s privilege, the other the nephew’s rank. Thus all the barons were bound by fealty and oath, whereupon each departed to his own home. After Whitsuntide, however, the king sent his daughter to Normandy, ordering the archbishop of Rouen to betroth her to the son of Fulk (count of Anjou), a prince of great nobility and famous courage; the king himself made no delay in taking ship to Normandy and uniting them in marriage. Whereupon all men foretold prophetically that after his death they would break their oath. I have myself often heard Roger, bishop of Salisbury, say that he was loosed from the oath made to the empress, for he had sworn it on condition that the king would not give his daughter in marriage out of the realm without the advice of him and the rest of the baronage; and that no one authorized, no one had knowledge of the marriage except Robert, earl of Gloucester, Brian Fitz Count, and the bishop of Louviers. I do not relate this because I believe to be true the words of a man who knew how to adapt himself to every change of fickle fortune, but as a credible historian I set in writing common opinion.

THE DISPUTED ELECTION OF AN ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY (1123).

=Source.=--_The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle_, ed. Thorpe, vol. i., p. 374. (Rolls Series.)

Then ... the king sent his writ over all England and bade his bishops and his abbots and all his thegns that they should come to his council on Candlemas Day (2 February) at Gloucester to meet him, and so they