The Reign of William Rufus and the Accession of Henry the First, Volume 1 (of 2)

by Edward A. Freeman

CHAPTER IV.

THE PRIMACY OF ANSELM AND THE ACQUISITION OF NORMANDY.[903]
1093–1097.

THE Character of the early years of William Rufus. 1087–1092. story of the first five years of the Red King’s reign may be written with little, if any, forsaking of strict chronological order. The accession, the rebellion, the affairs of Normandy, the affairs of Scotland, follow one another in successive or nearly successive years, as the main subjects which challenge our attention. Chronological sequence of the history. One set of events leads to another. The rebellion followed naturally on the accession; the interference of Rufus in Normandy followed naturally on the rebellion; the Scottish invasion seems to have been the immediate occasion of the banishment of Eadgar from Normandy. But during the whole of the five years there is no great interlacing of different parts of the main story; at no stage are two distinct sets of events of equal moment going on at the same time; the historian is hardly called on to forsake the arrangement of the annalist. While the events recorded by the annalist were in doing, some of the greatest changes in English history were silently going on; but they were not changes of a kind which could be set down in the shape of annals. More complicated character of the next period. 1093–1098. From the end of the year which saw the restoration of Carlisle the nature of the story changes. Different scenes of the drama of equal importance are now acting at once. For the next five years we have three several lines of contemporary story, which are now and then intertwined, but which on the whole did not seriously affect one another. Three distinct sets of contemporary events. Each is best told by itself, with as little reference to either of the others as may be. And each begins in the year of which we have now reached the threshold. The sixth year of William Rufus saw the beginning of the primacy of Anselm, the beginning of the main dealings of the reign with Wales and Scotland, the beginning of renewed interference in the Norman duchy. Aspects of Rufus with regard to each. It will be well to keep these three lines of narrative as distinct as may be. They show the Red King in three different characters. In the first story he appears as the representative of the new form which the kingship of Primacy of Anselm.England has taken with reference both to temporal and to spiritual matters within the kingdom. In the second story we see him asserting the powers of the English crown beyond the kingdom of England, but within the island of Britain. Affairs of Scotland and Wales. And here, alongside of the affairs of Scotland, perhaps not very closely connected with them by any chain of cause and effect, but forming one general subject with them as distinguished alike from purely domestic and from continental affairs, will come the relations between England and Wales during the reign of William Rufus. Continental schemes. In the third story we see the beginning of the events which led to those wider schemes of continental policy which almost wholly occupy the last three years of the reign. Revolt of Robert of Mowbray. 1095. One event only of much moment stands apart from the general thread of any of the three stories. It stands by itself, as one of those events which might easily have led to great changes, but which, as a matter of fact, passed away without much result. This is the conspiracy and revolt of Robert of Mowbray and William of Eu, which may, dramatically at least, be connected with either the Scottish or the Norman story, but which, as a matter of actual English history, stands apart from all.

Relations between Rufus and Anselm. Of these three the first on the list must claim the precedence. The relations between Rufus and Anselm involve the whole civil and ecclesiastical policy of the reign. Working of the new ideas. The dispute between King and Primate was the outcome of all that had been working in silence while the Red King was winning castles in Normandy, receiving the homage of Scotland, and enlarging the bounds of England. During those years one side of the results of the Norman Conquest was put into formal shape. Between the fall of Rochester and the restoration of Carlisle, new ideas, new claims, had come to their full growth. New position of the King. Those ideas, those claims, had made the kingship of William the Red something marked by not a few points of difference from the kingship either of the Confessor or of the Conqueror. Ecclesiastical position of the Conqueror. Nowhere does the difference between the elder and the younger William stand forth more clearly than in their dealings with the spiritual power. No king, as I have often shown, was more truly Supreme Governor of the Church within his realm than was the Conqueror of England, her defender against the claims of Rome. William and Lanfranc. But William the Great sought and found his fellow-worker in all things in an archbishop likeminded with himself. We can hardly conceive the reign of the Conqueror without the primacy of Lanfranc. Opposite conduct of Rufus. But the great object of William the Red was to avoid the restraints which could not fail to be placed upon his self-will, if he had one standing at his side whose place it was to be at once the chief shepherd of the English Church and the tribune of the English people. Vacancy of the see of Canterbury. 1089–1093. For three years and more from the death of Lanfranc the see of Canterbury remained vacant. Such a vacancy was without precedent; but it was designed itself to become a precedent. It was by no accident, from no momentary cause, that William delayed the appointment of any successor to his old guardian and counsellor. Its policy. It was part of a deliberate policy affecting the whole ecclesiastical and civil institutions of the realm. Influence of Randolf Flambard. And that policy, there can be little doubt, was the device of a single subtle and malignant genius by whom the whole internal administration of the Red King’s reign was guided.

§ 1. The Administration of Randolf Flambard.
1089–1099.

The chief minister, if we may so call him, of William Rufus, during these years, and indeed to the end of his reign, was that Randolf Flambard or Passeflambard of whom we have already heard.[904] Early history of Flambard. His early history is not easy to trace, beyond the general fact that he rose to power by the same path by which so many others rose in his day, by service in the King’s chapel and chancery.[905] Said to have been settled in England T. R. E. It has been generally thought that he was settled in England as early as the days of Eadward; but it may be doubted whether the evidence bears out this belief. And the course of his life is certainly easier to understand, if we do not bring him into England so soon, or attribute to him so great a length of life, as we must do if we look on him as having been already a land-owner in England before the Conquest.[906] Said to have been in the service of Bishop Maurice [Bishop of London 1086–1107]. On the other hand, if we accept the story which makes him pass to the King’s service from the service of Maurice Bishop of London, he must have been the King’s clerk for so short a time before the death of the Conqueror as hardly to give room for the usual stages of official promotion. Another version places him in the King’s service from his earliest years.[907] Perhaps we may guess that the name of the Bishop of London is wrongly given, and that Flambard had really been in the service of one of Maurice’s predecessors, of Hugh of Orival or of the more famous William. Said to have held the deanery of Twinham. His reason for leaving his episcopal patron is said to have been that a deanery which he held was taken from him, a story which oddly connects itself with another, according to which he was at one time dean or other head of the canons of Twinham—​better known as Christchurch—​in Hampshire.[908] Preferments held by the clerks of kings and bishops. The story, true or false, like the earlier life of Thomas of London, illustrates the way in which the highest ecclesiastical preferments short of bishoprics and abbeys were held by these clerical servants of kings and bishops. Clerical they often were only in the widest sense; they were sometimes merely tonsured, and they seldom took priest’s orders till they were themselves promoted to bishoprics.[909] Flambard a priest. Randolf Flambard however was a priest;[910] he could therefore discharge the duties of his deanery in person, if he ever troubled himself to go near it. Character of Flambard. Otherwise there was very little of the churchman, or indeed of the Christian, about the future Bishop of Durham and builder of Saint Cuthberht’s nave. At all events it was wholly by his personal qualities, such as they were, that Randolf Flambard made his way to the highest places in Church and State. In his day the Church supplied the readiest opening for the service of the State, and service to the State was again rewarded by all but the highest honours of the Church.

His parents. The man who was practically to rule England had at least little advantage on the score of birth. He is set before us as the son of a low-born priest in the diocese of Bayeux and of a mother who bore the character of a witch, and who was reported to have lost an eye through the agency of the powers with which she was too familiar.[911] Handsome in person, ready of wit, free of speech and of hand, unlearned, loose of life, clever and unscrupulous in business of every kind, he made friends and he made enemies; but he rose. The name Flambard. The surname which cleaves to him in various shapes and spellings is said to have been given to him in the court of the Conqueror by the dispenser Robert, because he pushed himself on at the expense of his betters, like a burning flame.[912] His financial skill. But his genius lay most of all in the direction of finance, in days when finance meant to transfer, by whatever means, the greatest amount of the subject’s money into the coffers of the King. Mention of him in the Conqueror’s reign. One story describes him as sent on such an errand by the Conqueror into the lands of his future bishopric, and as smitten for his crime by the wonder-working hand of Saint Cuthberht himself.[913] There is every reason to believe that he had a hand in drawing up the Great Survey.[914] His share in Domesday. But, while William the Great lived, he seems not to have risen to any high place. Towards the end of his reign the Conqueror did begin to give away bishoprics to his own clerks,[915] but still hardly to such clerks as Randolf Flambard. Nor did the Conqueror need a minister, in the sense of needing one who should in some sort fill his place and exercise his powers. The elder William could rule his kingdom himself, or at most with the advice of the special counsellor whom ancient custom gave him in the person of Lanfranc. His rise under Rufus. But the younger William, sultan-like in his mood, needed, like other sultans, the help of a vizier. And he found the fittest of all viziers for his purpose in the supple clerk from the Bessin.

The reign of Flambard seems to have begun as soon as Lanfranc was gone. He thoroughly suited the Red King’s views. He was ready to gather in wealth for his master from every quarter; he knew how to squeeze the most out of rich and poor; when a tax of a certain amount was decreed, he knew how to make it bring in double its nominal value.[916] He alone thoroughly knew his art; no one else, said the laughing King, cared so little whose hatred he brought on himself, so that he only pleased his master.[917] His alleged new Domesday. He stands charged in one account of his deeds with declaring the Great Survey to be drawn up on principles not favourable enough to the royal hoard, and with causing it to be supplanted by a new inquisition which made the Red King richer than his father.[918] This story is very doubtful; but it is thoroughly in character. His official position. In any case Flambard rose to the highest measure both of power and of official dignity that was open to him. His office and its duties are described in various ways; in that age official titles and functions were less accurately distinguished than they were a little later.[919] He holds the Justiciarship. But there seems no doubt that Flambard, the lawyer whom none could withstand,[920] held the formal office of Justiciar. Till his time that post had not, as a distinct office, reached the full measure of its greatness. Growth of the office under him. It was Flambard himself who raised it to the height of power and dignity which accompanied it when it was held by Roger of Salisbury and Randolf of Glanville. He was to the post of Justiciar what Thomas of London two generations later was to the post of Chancellor; he was the man who knew how to magnify his office.[921] His “driving” of the Gemóts. In that office “he drave all the King’s gemóts over all England.”[922] The King’s thegns who had come to the local assembly on the King’s errand in the days of Æthelred and Cnut[923] had now grown into a mighty and terrible power. How Flambard drave the gemóts we learn elsewhere. He was fierce alike to the suppliant and to the rebel.[924] Suppliant and rebel alike were in his eyes useful only as means for further filling the mighty chest at Winchester. He loses his land for the New Forest. Strangely enough, he himself, clerk and Norman as he was, had found neither birth nor order protect him when the Conqueror had needed a part of his land for the creation of the New Forest.[925] His zeal for the King’s interests. On the principle that man is ever most ready to inflict on others the wrongs which he has borne himself, Flambard, who himself in some sort ranked among the disinherited, was of all ministers of the royal will the most eager to draw the heritage of every man, without respect to birth or order, into the hands of the master whom he served too faithfully.

But we shall altogether misunderstand both Flambard and his master, if we take either of them for vulgar spoilers, living as it were from hand to mouth, and casually grasping any sources of gain which chanced to be thrown in their way. His changes and exactions systematic. Whatever Flambard did he did according to rule and system; nay more, he did it according to the severest rules of logic. Amidst the vague declamations which set him before us as the general robber of all men, we light on particular facts and phrases which give us the clue to the real nature of his doings. His alleged spoliation of the rich. It is worth notice that, in more than one picture, the rich are enlarged on as the special victims of his extortions; in one the Ætheling Henry himself is spoken of as having suffered deeply at his hands.[926] His dealings with the Ætheling Henry. We may guess that this has some special reference to the way in which Henry was defrauded of the lands of his mother, a business in which Flambard is likely enough to have had a share.[927] These references to the wrongs done to the rich have their significance; they point to a cunningly devised system of Flambard’s, by which, the greater a man’s estate was, the more surely was he marked for extortion. The legislation of Flambard, if we can call that legislation which seems never to have been set down in any formal statute,[928] was not at all of the kind which catches the small flies and lets the large ones get through. Witness of the Chronicle. As we have seen in some other cases,[929] a seemingly casual expression of our native Chronicler is the best record of a matter of no small constitutional importance. The King to be every man’s heir. The Red King “would be ilk man’s heir, ordered and lewd.”[930] In those words lay the whole root of the matter. The great work of the Flambard’s lasting burthens and exactions.administration of Flambard, the great work of the reign of Rufus, was to put in order a system of rules by which the King might be the heir of every man. Those few words, which might seem to have dropped from the Chronicler in a moment of embittered sarcasm, do indeed set forth the formal beginning of a series of burthens and exactions under which Englishmen, and preeminently the rich and noble among Englishmen, groaned for not much less than six hundred years after Flambard’s days.

The Feudal Tenures. In short the “unrighteousness” ordained by William Rufus and Randolf Flambard[931] are no other than those Abolished 1660. feudal tenures and feudal burthens which even the Parliament which elected Charles the Second, in the midst of its self-abasement and betrayal of its own ancient rights, declared to have been “much more burthensome, grievous, and prejudicial to the kingdom than they have been beneficial to the king.”[932] Assuredly they were as burthensome, grievous, and prejudicial to the kingdom in the eleventh century as they were in the seventeenth; but assuredly they were found in the eleventh century to be highly beneficial to the King, or they would not have been ordained by Rufus and Flambard. Tenure in chivalry. We have reached the age of chivalry; and tenure in chivalry, with all its mean and pettifogging incidents, was put into a systematic form for the special benefit of the coffers of the king who was before all things the good knight, the preux chevalier, the probus miles. The King “would be the heir of ilk man, ordered and lewd.” Wardship. To that end the estate of the minor heir was to be made a prey; he was himself to be begged and granted and sold Marriage. like an ox or an ass;[933] the heiress, maid or widow, was in the like sort to be begged and granted, sold into unwilling wedlock, or else forced to pay the price which a chivalrous tenure demanded for the right either to remain unmarried or to marry according to her own will. Dealings with bishoprics and abbeys. The bishopric or the abbey was to be left without a pastor, and its lands were to be let to farm for the King’s profit, because the King would be the heir of the priest as well as of the layman. Agency of Flambard in systematizing the feudal tenures. That all this, in its fully developed and systematic form, was the work of Randolf Flambard, I hope I may now assume. I have argued the point at some length elsewhere,[934] and I need not now do more than pass lightly over some of the main points. The evidence. Certain tendencies, certain customs, of which, under the Conqueror and even before the Conqueror, Henry’s charters. we see the germs, but only the germs, appear at the accession of Henry the First as firmly established rules, which Henry does not promise wholly to abolish, while he does promise to redress their abuses. It follows that they had put on their systematic shape in the intermediate time, that is, during the reign of Rufus. One of these abuses, that which for obvious reasons was most largely dwelled on by our authorities, namely the new way of dealing with ecclesiastical property, is distinctly spoken of as a novelty, and a novelty of Flambard’s devising. The obvious inference is that the whole system, a system which logically hangs together in the most perfect way, was the device of the same subtle and malignant brain. Importance of seemingly casual phrases. And having got thus far, we are now enabled to see the full force of those seemingly casual expressions in the writers of the time of which I have already spoken. It was the royal claims of relief, of wardship, and marriage, systematically and mercilessly enforced, no less than the royal claim to enjoy the fruits of vacant ecclesiastical benefices, which are branded in Latin as the injustitiæ of Rufus and Flambard, and which in our own tongue take the shape of the King’s claim to be the heir of every man.

This last pithy phrase takes in all the new claims which were now set up over all lands, whether held by spiritual or temporal owners, and, in some cases at least, over personal property also. All the “unrighteousnesses,” all “the evil customs,” which the charter of Henry promises to reform[935] come under this one head. Flambard’s theory of land-holding. In Flambard’s system of tenure there could be no such thing as an ancient eðel or allod, held of no lord, and burthened only with such payments or duties as the law might lay upon its owner. With him all land was in the strictest sense loanland.[936] The owner had at most a life-interest in it; at his death it fell back to the king, for the king was to be the heir of every man. Relief and redemption. The king might grant it to the son of the last owner; but, if so, it was by a fresh grant,[937] for which the new grantee had to pay. And the terms of Henry’s charter imply that the payment was arbitrary and extortionate. Henry promises that the heir of a tenant-in-chief shall not be constrained to redeem—​to buy back—​his father’s lands as had been done in his brother’s time; he shall relieve them by a just and lawful relief.[938] Under Rufus then it was held that the land had, by the former holder’s death, actually passed to the king, as the common heir of all men, and that, if the son or other representative of the former holder wished to possess it, he must, in the strictest sense, buy it back from the king. Henry acknowledges the rights of the heir, while still maintaining the theory of the fresh grant. The heir is not to redeem—​to buy back—​his father’s land; he is merely to relieve it—​to take it up again, and he is to pay only the sum prescribed by legal custom, the equivalent of the ancient heriot or the modern succession-duty. So it is with personal property. Dealings with men’s wills. The Red King, it is plain, claimed to be the heir of men’s money, as well as of their land. For one of Henry’s promised reforms is that the wills of his barons and others his men shall stand good, that their money shall go to the purposes to which they may have bequeathed it, and that, if they die without wills, their wives, children, kinsfolk, or lawful men, shall dispose of it as they may think best for the dead man’s soul.[939] Such a reform could not have been needed unless William Rufus had been in the habit of interfering with men’s free right of bequest. Older theory of wills. And it might have been plausibly argued that the right of bequest was no natural right of man, that the most ancient legal doctrine both of Rome and of England was that a will was an exceptional act, which needed the confirmation of the sovereign power. If such a doctrine had anyhow come to the knowledge of Flambard, it would assuredly seem to him a natural inference that no such confirmation should be granted save at such a price as the king might see fit to demand.

Wardship. But of all the devices of Flambard, there was one which, it would seem, was specially his own, one which was at once the most oppressive of all and that which followed most logically from the nature of feudal tenure. This was the lord’s right of wardship. This claim starts from the undoubted doctrine that the fief is after all only a conditional possession of its holder, that he holds it only on the terms of discharging the military service which is due from it. Nothing was easier than to argue that, when the fief passed to an heir who was from his youth incapable of discharging that service, the fief should go back into the lord’s hands till the heir had reached the time of life when he could discharge it. The abuses and oppressions which such a right led to need hardly be dwelled on; they are written in every page of our legal history from the days of Rufus to the days of Charles the First. Nothing now enriches an estate like a long minority; in those times the heir, when at last he came into possession, found his estate impoverished in every way by the temporary occupation of the king or of the king’s favourite to whom the wardship had been granted or sold. Its logical character. Yet it cannot be denied that the argument by which the right of wardship was established was, as a piece of legal argument, quite unanswerable. And of all the feudal exactions certainly none was more profitable. Its oppressive working. The tenant-in-chief who died, perhaps fighting in the king’s cause, and who left an infant son behind him, had the comfort of thinking that his estate would, perhaps for the next twenty years, go to enrich the coffers of his sovereign. On this head Henry speaks less clearly than he speaks on some other points; but his words certainly seem to imply that the wardship of the tenant-in-chief was to go, not to the king, but to the mother or to some kinsman.[940] If so, either Henry himself or his successors thought better of the matter. The right of wardship, as a privilege of the king or other lord, appears in full force in the law-book of Randolf of Glanville.[941]

Extent of Flambard’s changes. When we attribute all these exactions and “unrighteousnesses” to the device of Flambard, it is of course not meant that they were altogether unheard of either before his day or beyond the lands over which his influence reached. Traces of these claims, or of some of them, are to be found wherever and whenever feudal notions about the tenure of land had crept in. All that is meant is that claims which were vaguely growing up were put by Flambard into a distinct and systematic shape. What William the Great did on occasion, for reasons of state, William the Red did as a matter of course, as an ordinary means of making money.[942] Wardship and marriage special to England and Normandy. And it is significant that two of the most oppressive of these claims, that of wardship and the kindred claim of marriage, were, in their fully developed shape, peculiar or nearly so to the lands where Rufus reigned and Flambard governed, to the English kingdom and the Norman duchy.[943] The two sides of feudalism. I have said elsewhere that, of the two sides of feudalism, our Norman kings carefully shut out the side which tended to weaken the royal power, and carefully fostered the side which tended to strengthen it.[944] Both sides of this process were busily at work during the reign of Rufus. The great law of the Conqueror, the law of Salisbury, which decreed that duty to the king should come before all other duties, was practically tried and practically confirmed in the struggle which showed that no man in England was strong enough to stand against the king.[945] England in what sense feudal. England was not to become feudal in the sense in which Germany and France became feudal. But in all those points where the doctrines of feudal tenure could be turned to the king’s enrichment, England became of all lands the most feudal. Flambard the lawgiver of English feudalism. Enactor of no statute, author of no code or law-book, Randolf Flambard was in effect the lawgiver of feudalism, so far as that misleading word has any meaning at all on English soil.

Flambard’s oppression falls most directly on the greatest estates. All this exactly falls in with those phrases in our authorities which speak of Flambard as the spoiler of the rich, the plunderer of the inheritances of other men. It also bears out what I have said already,[946] that there is no evidence to show that Rufus was a direct oppressor of the native English as such. No special oppression of the native English. The subtle devices of tyranny of which we have just spoken directly concerned those only who were the King’s tenants-in-chief. That is to say, they touched a class of estates which were far more largely in Norman than in English hands. Most likely, even in that reign, a numerical majority of the King’s tenants-in-chief would have been found to be of English blood. But such a majority would have been chiefly made up of the very smallest members of the class; the greater landowners, those whose wrongs, under such a system, would be, if not heavier, at least more conspicuous, were mainly the conquerors of Senlac or their sons. It was a form of oppression which would strike men as specially falling upon the rich. A special meaning is thus given to phrases which might otherwise be thought to be merely those common formulæ which, in speaking of any evil which affects all classes, join rich and poor together. The devices of Flambard were specially aimed at the rich. Indirect oppression of other classes. The great mass of the English people, and that large class of Normans who held their lands, not straight of the king but of some intermediate lord, were touched by them only when the lords who suffered by Flambard’s exactions tried to make good their own losses by exactions of the same kind on their own tenants. Dealings of the tenants-in-chief with their under-tenants. That they did so is shown by the reforming charter of Henry. When he promises to deal fairly and lawfully by his barons and his other men in the matters of relief and marriage, he demands that his barons shall deal fairly and lawfully by their men in the like cases.[947] But in the first instance it was mainly the rich, mainly the Normans, whom the feudal devices of Flambard touched. Strange submission of the nobles. And it is not the least strange thing in these times to see a race of warlike and high-spirited nobles, conquerors or sons of conquerors, submit to so galling a yoke, a yoke which must have been all the more galling when we think of the origin and position of the man by whom it was devised. Position of the king’s clerks. We cannot think that the king’s clerks were ever a popular body with any class, high or low, native or foreign. Their position appealed to no sentiment of any kind, military, religious, or national; their rule rather implied the treading under foot of all such sentiments. The military tenants must have looked on them with the dislike which men of the sword, specially in such an age, are apt to look on the rule of men of the pen. In the eyes of strict churchmen they must have passed for ungodly scorners of the decencies of their order. To the mass of the people they must have seemed foreign extortioners, and nothing more. They represented the power of the king, and nothing else. In some states of things the power of the king, even of a despotic king, may be welcomed as the representative of law against force. The reign of unlaw. But under Rufus the power of the king was before all things the representative of unlaw. Yet though all murmured, all submitted. General submission. The son of the poor priest of the Bessin, clothed with a power purely official, lorded it over all classes and orders. Earls, prelates, and people, were alike held down by the guide and minister of the royal will.

Position of Rufus favourable for his schemes. One cause of this general submission is doubtless to be found in the immediate circumstances of the time. The alliance of the King and the English people had for the moment broken the power of the Norman nobles. The ecclesiastical estate was left without a head by the death of Lanfranc. The popular estate was left without a head, as soon as the King turned away from the people who had given him his crown, and broke all the promises that he had made to them. There was no power of combination; the great days when nobles, clergy, and commons, could join together against the king, as three orders in one nation, were yet far distant. Each class had to bear its own grievances as it could; no class could get any help from any other class; and the King’s picked mercenaries, kept at the expense of all classes, were stronger than any one class by itself. Effect on national unity. Yet we cannot doubt that even the rule of Rufus and Flambard did something towards the great work of founding national unity. All the inhabitants of the land, if they had nothing else in common, had common grievances and a common oppressor. For a moment we can believe that the English people would feel a certain pleasure in seeing the men who had once conquered them and whom they had more lately conquered, brought under the yoke, and under such a yoke as that of Flambard. But such a feeling would be short-lived compared with the far deeper feeling of common grievances and common enmities.

Other forms of exaction. For the yoke of Flambard was one which, in different ways, pressed on all classes. If the native English, and the less wealthy men generally, were less directly touched by his feudal legislation than those who ranked above them, Flambard had no mind to let poor men, or native Englishmen, or any other class of men, go scot free. Working of the old laws. If his new devices pressed mainly on the great, he knew how to use the old forms of law so as to press on great and small alike. No one was too high, no one was too low, for the ministers of the King’s Exchequer to keep their eyes on him. No source of profit was deemed too small or too mean, if the coffers of a “Driving” of the Gemóts. chivalrous king could be filled by it. If Flambard sought to seize upon every man’s heritage, he also drave all the King’s gemóts over all England. We have no details; but it is easy to see how the ancient assemblies, and the judicial and administrative business which was done in them, might be turned into instruments of extortion. We have seen that the worst criminals could win their pardon by a bribe,[948] and means might easily be found, by false charges and by various tricks of the law, for wringing money out of the innocent as well as the guilty. Witness of Henry’s charter. We may again turn to Henry’s charter. It is a very speaking clause which forgives all “pleas” and debts due to his brother, except certain classes of them which were held to be due of lawful right.[949] In the days of Rufus and Flambard the presumption was that a demand made on behalf of the crown was unlawful.

Dealings with church property. But there is one form of the exactions of the Red King which, for obvious reasons, stands forth before all others in the pages of the writers of the time. When the King would be the heir of every man, he was fully minded to be the heir of the clerk or the monk as well as of the layman. And Flambard, priest and chaplain as he was, had no mind to sacrifice the interests of his master to the interests of his order. By his suggestion William began early in his reign, as soon as the influence of Lanfranc was withdrawn, to make himself in a special way the heir of deceased bishops and abbots. These great spiritual lords were among the chief land-owners of the kingdom. The kings therefore naturally claimed to have a voice in their appointment. Appointment and investiture of bishops and abbots. They invested the new prelate with his ring and staff; and this right, so fiercely denied to the successor of Augustus, was exercised without dispute by the successor of Cerdic and Rolf.[950] The new prelate received, by the king’s writ, as a grant from the king, the temporal possessions which were attached to the spiritual office.[951] We have seen that this action on the part of the king by no means wholly shut out action either on the part of the local ecclesiastical body or on the part of the great council of the kingdom.[952] Grant of the temporalities by the king. But it was from the king personally that the newly chosen or newly nominated prelate received the actual investiture of his office and its temporalities. The temporalities with which he was invested might have their special Church lands become fiefs. rights and privileges; but at least they were not exempt from the three burthens which no land could escape, among which was the duty of providing men for military service in case of need.[953] As feudal ideas grew, the inference was easy that lands granted by the king and charged with military service were a fief held of the king by a military tenure. We have seen signs of change in that direction in the days of the Conqueror;[954] in the days of Rufus the doctrine was fully established, and it was pushed to its logical results by the lawyer-like ingenuity of Flambard. Flambard’s inferences. If the lands held by a bishop or abbot were a fief held by military tenure, they must be liable to the same accidents as other fiefs of the same kind. Analogy between lay and ecclesiastical fiefs. When a bishop or abbot died, or otherwise vacated his office, the result was the same as when the lay holder of a fief died without leaving an heir of full age. There was the fief; but there was no one ready to perform the duties with which it was charged. The fief must therefore fall back to the lord till it should be granted afresh to some one who could discharge those duties. The king thus, in the words of the Chronicler, became the heir of the deceased bishop or abbot, even more thoroughly than he became the heir of the deceased baron or other lay tenant-in-chief. For in the latter case, except when the late holder’s family became extinct by his death, there was always some one person who had by all law and custom a right above all other men to succeed him. The son or other natural successor might be constrained to buy back the lands of the ancestor,[955] or, if a minor, he might be kept out of them till his time of wardship was over. Still even Flambard would have allowed that such a natural successor had, if he could pay the price demanded, a claim upon the land which was not shared by any one else. But on the lands of a deceased bishop or abbot no man, even of his own order, had any better claim than another till such a claim was created by election or nomination. Vacant prelacies held by the King. The king was the only heir; the lands and all the other property of the vacant office passed into his hands; and, as no election or nomination could hold good without his consent, it was in his power to prolong his possession as heir as long as he thought good. That is to say, by the new device of Flambard, when a bishop or abbot died, the king at once Power of prolonging the vacancy.entered on his lands, and kept them as long as the see or abbey remained vacant. And, as it rested with the king when the see or abbey should be filled, he could prolong the vacancy for any time that he thought good. And William Rufus commonly thought good to prolong the Sale of bishoprics and abbeys. vacancy till some one offered him such a price in ready money as made it worth his while to put an end to it.[956]

The result was that, in the words of the Chronicler, “God’s Church was brought low.”[957] The great ecclesiastical offices, as they fell vacant, were either kept vacant for the King’s profit, or else were sold for his profit to men who, by the very act of buying them, were shown to be unworthy to hold them.[958] Innovations of Rufus. We are distinctly told that this practice was an innovation of the days of Rufus, and that it was an innovation of which Flambard was the author.[959] The charge of simony, like all other charges of bribery and corruption, is often much easier to bring than to disprove; but it is not likely to be spoken of as a systematic practice, unless it undoubtedly happened in a good many cases. Earlier cases of simony. We have come across cases in our earlier history where it was at least suspected that ecclesiastical offices had been sold, or, what proves even more, that they were looked on as likely to be sold.[960] And that the practice was common among continental princes there can be little doubt. Not systematic before Rufus. But there is nothing to make us believe that it was at all systematic in England at any earlier time, and the Conqueror at all events was clear from all scandal of the kind. But the chain of reasoning devised by Flambard would make it as fair a source of profit for the king to take money on the grant of a bishopric as to take it on the grant of a lay fief. And there is no reason to doubt that Rufus systematically acted on this principle, and that, save at the moment of his temporary repentance, he seldom or never gave away a bishopric or abbey for nothing. The other point of the Treatment of vacant churches. charge, that bishoprics and abbeys were kept vacant while the king received the profits, was not a matter of surmise or suspicion, but a matter of fact open to all men. When a prelate died, one of the king’s clerks was sent to take down in writing a full account of all his possessions. All was taken into the king’s hands. Sometimes the king granted out the lands for money or on military tenure, in which case the new prelate, when one was appointed, might have some difficulty in getting them back.[961] In other cases the king kept the property in his own hands, letting it out at the highest rent that he could get, and, as his father did with the royal demesnes, at once making void his bargains if a higher price was offered.[962] In the case of the abbeys and of those churches of secular canons where the episcopal and capitular estates were not yet separated, the king took the whole property of the church, and allowed the monks or canons only a wretched pittance.[963] We have seen that, in one case where local gratitude has recorded that he did otherwise, it is marked as an exception to his usual practice.[964] Flambard the chief agent. And, in all these doings, Flambard, as he was the deviser of the system, was its chief administrator. The vacant prelacies were put under his management; he extorted, for his own profit and for the king’s, such sums both from the monks or clergy and from the tenants of the church lands that they all said that it was better to die than to live.[965]

The practice a new one. These doings on the part of Rufus are by the writers of the time put in marked contrast with the practice of earlier kings, and especially with the practice of his own father. As the old and inborn kings had done nothing of the kind, so neither had the Conqueror from beyond sea. The olden practice. In their days, when an abbot or bishop died, his spiritual superior, the bishop of the diocese or the archbishop of the province, administered the estates of his church during the vacancy, bestowing the income to pious and charitable uses, and handing the estates over to the new prelate on his appointment.[966] In later legal language, the guardian of the spiritualties was also the guardian of the temporalities. Tenure in frank-almoign. Bishoprics and abbeys were dealt with as smaller preferments have always been dealt with, as holdings in frank-almoign. The novelty lay, not in receiving the bishopric or abbey from the king, but in receiving it on the terms of a lay fief. Odo Abbot of Chertsey resigns, 1092. One prelate, Odo Abbot of Chertsey, the Norman successor of the English Wulfwold,[967] resigned his post rather than hold it on such terms.[968] For the rest of the reign of Rufus the estates of the abbey were left in the hands of Flambard. Restored by Henry, 1100. One of the earliest among the reforms of Henry and Anselm was the restoration of Odo.[969]

Vacancies longer in abbeys than in bishoprics. If we look more minutely into the chronology of this reign, it will appear that these long vacancies were more usual in the case of the abbeys than in that of the bishoprics. At the time of William’s death he had in his hands, besides the archbishopric of the absent Anselm, the two bishoprics of Winchester and Salisbury and eleven abbeys.[970] Walkelin dies. Jan. 3, 1098. Of these Winchester had been vacant rather more than two years and a half, Salisbury had been vacant only eight months. Osmund dies. Dec. 3, 1099. And the bishoprics which were filled in his reign had mostly been vacant one, two, or at most three years, shorter times than bishoprics were often kept vacant in much later times.[971] The reason for the difference seems clear. Differences between bishoprics and abbeys. The bishoprics, when they were filled, commonly went to the king’s clerks, to Flambard himself and his fellows. The great temporal position of a bishopric was acceptable to men of this class, and they found in the king’s service the means of making up a purse such as would tempt the king to end the vacancy in their favour[972] . A bishopric was therefore likely to be filled, unworthily filled doubtless, but still filled, before any very long time had passed. The abbeys, on the other hand, would have small attractions for the king’s servants, who in fact, as secular clerks, could not hold them. And the men for whom such a post would have attractions, the monks of the vacant abbey or the abbots or priors of lesser houses, would not have the same means as the king’s servants of making up a purse. The abbeys therefore were likely to remain vacant longer than the bishoprics. When they were filled, it was not without simony, or at least not without a payment of some kind to the King. Case of Peterborough. 1098. For it is rather harsh to apply the word simony to the payment by which the monks of Peterborough bought of the King the right to choose an abbot freely—​a free congé d’élire in short, without any letter missive.[973] Another thing may be noticed. The bishops appointed at this time all bear Norman names; Normans were the most likely men to English abbots. find their way into the King’s chapel and chancery. But the abbots are still not uncommonly English.[974] Rufus, who welcomed brave mercenaries from any quarter, also welcomed bribes from any quarter, with little of narrow prejudice for or against particular nations. An English monk was as likely as his Norman fellow to have, by some means quite inconsistent with his rule, scraped together money enough to purchase preferment. And when a body of monks bought the right of free election, they were likely to choose an Englishman rather than a stranger. At all times the kings interfered less with the elections to abbeys than they did with the elections to bishoprics.[975] And, if there is any truth, even as a legendary illustration, in a tale which is told both of Rufus and of other kings, there were moments when the Red King could prefer a practical joke to a bribe. Story of the appointment to an unnamed abbey. An abbey—​the name is not given—​is vacant; two of its monks come to the King, trying to outbid one another in offers of money for the vacant office. A third brother has come with them, and the King asks what he will give. He answers that he will not give anything; he has simply come to receive the new abbot, whoever he may be, and to take him home with all honour. Rufus at once bestows the abbey on him, as the only one of the party worthy of it.[976] The tale is not impossible; had it been placed in Normandy and not in England, we might have even said that it was not unlikely. For we shall see, as we go on, that, from whatever cause, Rufus dealt with ecclesiastical matters in Normandy in a different spirit from that in which he dealt with them in England.

Sees vacant in 1092. At the point which we have reached in our general story, the time of the restoration of Carlisle, two English sees only were vacant. Two had been filled during the year of the Norman campaign, and both of them by prelates of some personal mark. Ralph Luffa Bishop of Chichester. 1091–1123. Ralph Luffa, Bishop of Chichester, holds a high place in the history of his own church, as the founder alike of the existing fabric and of the existing constitution of its chapter.[977] He bears altogether so good a character that he is not likely to have come to a bishopric in the way which was usual in the days of Rufus. Did the King give him his staff in some passing better moment, like that in which he gave the staff to the worthy abbot at the nameless monastery? But the other episcopal appointment of the same year was one of the usual kind, as far as the motive of the appointment went, though the person to whom the bishopric was given or sold was not one of the class who in this reign commonly profited by such transactions. Death of William Bishop of Thetford. 1091. Bishop William of Thetford, the successor of the unlearned Herfast,[978] died in the year of negotiations, the year of the peace with Robert and the peace with Malcolm.[979] His bishopric was not long kept vacant; before the end of the year the church of Thetford had a new pastor, and one who plays no small part in local history. Herbert Losinga. This was the famous Herbert Losinga,[980] who, if we may trust such accounts of him as we have, made so bad a beginning and so good an ending. Norman by birth, an immediate countryman of the Conqueror, as sprung from the land of Hiesmes, a man of learning and Prior of Fécamp. evident energy, he became a monk of Fécamp and prior of that great house.[981] Early in the reign of Rufus or in the last days of the Conqueror, Abbot of Ramsey. 1087. he was raised to the abbey of Ramsey, when the long and varied life of Æthelsige came to an end.[982] He buys the see of Thetford. He now, on Bishop William’s death, at once bought for himself the see of Thetford for one thousand pounds.[983] Before the end of the year he was consecrated by Archbishop Thomas of York, making his profession to a future Archbishop of Canterbury.[984] At the same time he also bought preferment for his father Robert, who, it must be supposed, had embraced the monastic life. Three years’ vacancy of New Minster. 1088–1091. The New Minster of Winchester had now been for three years, since the death of its last Abbot Ralph, in the hands of Flambard.[985] Herbert now bought the abbacy for his father.[986] Robert Losinga Abbot. 1091–1093. This twofold simony naturally gave great offence, and formed a fertile subject for the eloquence of the time, both in prose and verse.[987] The reign of the father was short; two years later Flambard again held the wardship of New Minster.[988] The career of the son in his East-Anglian bishopric was longer and more varied, and we shall come across him again in the course of our story. Herbert repents and receives his bishopric again from the Pope, c. 1093. At present it is only needful to say that Herbert very soon repented of the shameful way by which he had climbed into the sheepfold, that he went to Rome, that he gave up his ill-gotten bishopric into the hands of Pope Urban, and received his staff from him again in what was deemed to be a more regular way.[989] Herbert’s repentance was to his credit; and, as things stood at the moment, there was perhaps no better way of making amends. But the course which he took was not only one which was sure to bring on him the displeasure of the Red King; it was in the teeth of all the customs of William the Great and of the kings before him. A journey to Rome, without the royal licence, and seemingly taken by stealth,[990] the submission to a Pope whom the King had not acknowledged,[991] the surrender to any Pope of the staff which he had received from the King of the English, were all of them offences, and the last act Novelty of Herbert’s act. was distinctly a novelty. Ulf, Ealdred, Thomas, Remigius, had all been deprived of their staves and had received them again;[992] but no English prelate of those times had of his own act made the Pope his judge in such a matter. When the holy Wulfstan was threatened with deposition, he had, even in the legend, given back his staff, not to the Pope who ruled at Rome, but to the King who slept at Westminster.[993] No wonder then that the Red King was moved to anger by a slight to his authority which his father could not have overlooked, and which might have stirred the Confessor himself to one of his passing fits of wrath. The return of Herbert from Rome forms part of a striking group of events to which we shall presently come.

The two bishoprics of Chichester and Thetford were thus filled soon after they became vacant. Vacancy of Lincoln. 1092–1094. In the year after the consecration of Ralph and Herbert, a third see, as we have seen, fell vacant by the death of Remigius of Lincoln.[994] That see was not filled so speedily as Chichester and Thetford had been; still it did not remain vacant so long as some of the abbeys. But a longer vacancy befell, a lasting vacancy seemed designed to befall, the mother church of all of them. Vacancy of Canterbury. 1089–1093. All this while the metropolitan throne of Canterbury remained empty. No successor to Lanfranc was chosen or nominated; it was the fixed purpose of the Red King to make no nomination himself, to allow no choice on the part of the ecclesiastical electors. Here at least the doctrines of Randolf Flambard were to be carried out in their fulness. It is the state of ecclesiastical matters during this memorable vacancy, and the memorable nomination which at last ended it, which call for our main attention at this stage of our story.

§ 2. The Vacancy of the Primacy and the Appointment of Anselm.
1089–1093.

Effects of the vacancy of the see of Canterbury. It needs some little effort of the imagination fully to take in all that is implied in a four years’ vacancy of the see of Canterbury in the eleventh century. For the King to keep any bishopric vacant in order to fill his coffers with its revenues was a new and an unrighteous thing, against which men cried out as at once new and unrighteous. Special position of the metropolitan see. But to deal in this way with the see of Canterbury was something which differed in kind from the like treatment of any other see. That the bishopric of Lincoln was vacant, that the Bishop of Durham was in banishment, was mainly a local grievance. The churches of Lincoln and Durham suffered; they were condemned to what, in the language of the times, was called a state of widowhood. The tenants of those churches suffered all that was implied in being handed over from a milder lord to a harsher one. The dioceses were defrauded of whatever advantages might have flowed from the episcopal superintendence of Robert Bloet or of William of Saint-Calais. But the general affairs of the Church and realm might go on much the same; there was one councillor less in the gemót or the synod, and that was all. It was another thing when the patriarchal throne was left vacant, when Church and realm were deprived of him who in a certain sense might be called the head of both. An Archbishop of Canterbury was something more than merely the first of English bishops. Setting aside his loftier ecclesiastical claims as the second Pontiff of a second world, he held within the realm of England itself a position which was wholly his own.[995] Its antiquity and dignity. He held an office older and more venerable than the crown itself. There were indeed kings in England before there were bishops; but there were Archbishops of Canterbury before there were Kings of the English. The successor of Augustine, the “head of Angle-kin,”[996] had been the embodiment of united English national life, in days when the land was still torn in pieces by the rivalry of the kings of this or that corner of it.[997] This lofty position survived the union of the kingdoms; it survived the transfer of the united kingdom to a foreign Conqueror. Lanfranc stood by the side of William, as Dunstan had stood by the side of Eadgar. Place of the Archbishop in the assembly. In every gathering of the Church and of the people, in every synod, in every gemót, the Archbishop of Canterbury held a place which had no equal or second, a place which was shared by no other bishop or earl or ætheling. If we reckon the King as the head of the assembly, the Archbishop is its first member. If we reckon the King as a power outside the assembly, the Archbishop is himself its head. His leadership of the nation. He is the personal counsellor of the King, the personal leader of the nation, in a way in which no other man in the realm could be said to be. As of old, under the Empire of Rome, each town had its defensor civitatis, so now, under the kingship of England, the successor of Augustine might be said to hold the place of defensor regni. The position which Lanfranc had held, and in which during these dreary years he had no successor, was a position wholly unlike that of the class of bishops to which we are now getting accustomed, royal officials who received bishoprics as the payment of their temporal services. It was equally unlike that of the statesman-bishops of later times, who might or might not forget the bishop in the statesman, but whose two characters, ecclesiastical and temporal, were quite distinct and in no way implied one another. An archbishop of those times was a statesman by virtue of his spiritual office; he was the moral guardian and moral mouth-piece of the nation. The ideal archbishop was at once saint, scholar, and statesman; of the long series from Augustine to Lanfranc, some had really united all those characters; none perhaps had been altogether lacking in all three. Appointments to the archbishopric. Hence the special care with which men were chosen for so great a place both before and for some time after the time with which we are dealing. The king’s clerks, his chancellor, his treasurer, even his larderer,[998] might beg or buy some bishopric of less account; but, seventy years after this time, the world was amazed when King Henry bethought him of placing Chancellor Thomas, Thomas of London. 1162. not in the seat of Randolf of Durham or Roger of Salisbury, but in the seat of Ælfheah, Anselm, and Theobald.[999] The King’s fixed purpose to keep the see vacant. The surprise which was then called forth by what was looked on as a new-fangled and wrongful nomination to the archbishopric of Canterbury may help us to judge of the surprise and horror and despair which came over the minds of men, as it became plain that the wish, perhaps the fixed purpose, of the Red King was to get rid of archbishops of Canterbury altogether.

The King’s motives. The motives of the King are plain. He sought something more than merely to get possession of the rich revenues of the archbishopric, though that was doubtless not a small matter in the policy of either Rufus or Flambard. The estates of the see. The estates of the see of Canterbury furnished a very perceptible addition to the royal income, and they gave the King a convenient means of rewarding some of his favourites, to whom he granted archiepiscopal lands on military tenure.[1000] Lanfranc himself had already done something like this;[1001] but the usual tendency of lands so granted to pass away from the Church would be greatly strengthened when it was not the Archbishop, but the King, at whose hands they had been received, and to whom the first homage had been paid. But all this was doubtless very secondary. Further motives. In the case of other sees it was a mere reckoning of profit; Rufus had no objection to fill them at once, if any one would make it worth his while to do so. But it is plain that he had a fixed determination to keep the archbishopric vacant, if possible, for ever, at all events as long as the patience of his kingdom would endure such a state of things. To Rufus, whether as man or as king, the appointment of an archbishop was the thing of all others which was least to be wished. To fill the see of Canterbury would be at once to set up a disagreeable monitor by his side, and to put some check on the reign of unright and unlaw, public and private. William doubtless remembered how, as long as Lanfranc lived, he had had to play an unwilling part, and to put a bridle on his worst and most cherished instincts. An archbishop of his own naming could not indeed have the personal authority of his ancient guardian; but any archbishop would have a charge to speak in the name of the Church and the nation in a way which could hardly be pleasing in his ears. The metropolitan see therefore remained unfilled till the day when William Rufus became for a short season another man.

No fear of a bad appointment. It is worth remarking that what might have seemed a very obvious way out of the difficulty clearly did not come into the head of the King or of any one else. The long vacancy of the archbishopric made men uneasy; they were grieved and amazed as to what might happen in so unusual a case; but they felt sure that the present distress must end some time, and they seem to have taken for granted that, when it did end, it would end by the appointment of some one worthy of the place. Men were troubled at the King’s failure to appoint any archbishop; they do not seem to have been at all troubled by fear that he might appoint a bad archbishop.[1002] Rufus himself seems never to have thought of granting or selling the metropolitan see to any of his own creatures, to Flambard for instance or to Robert Bloet. He might so deal with Lincoln or Durham; something within or without him kept him from so dealing with Canterbury. It is throughout taken for granted that the choice lay between a good archbishop or none at all. A good archbishop was the yoke-fellow of a good king, the reprover of an evil king. William Rufus wanted neither of those. But even William Rufus had not gone so far, his subjects did not suspect him of going so far, as to think of appointing an evil archbishop in order to be the tool of an evil king. Primates between Anselm and Thomas. The precedent of making the patriarchal throne of Britain the reward of merely temporal services[1003] did not come till it had been filled by four more primates, all taken from the regular orders, numbering among them at least one saint and one statesman, but no mere royal official. The first degradation of the archbishopric led to its greatest exaltation, in the person of Thomas of London. But Thomas of London, even in his most worldly days, was a very different person from Randolf Flambard.

Seemingly no thought of election. Another point to be remarked is how utterly the notion either of ecclesiastical election or of election in the Great Council of the realm seems to have passed away. There is nothing like an attempt at the choice of an archbishop, either by the monks of Christ Church, No action of the monks.the usual electors, or by the suffragan bishops, who afterwards claimed the right. It might have been too daring a step if the monks had done as they once had done in the days of King Eadward,[1004] if they had chosen an archbishop freely, and then asked for the King’s approval of their choice. Eadward had rejected the prelate so chosen; William Rufus might have done something more than reject him. But we do not hear of their even venturing to petition for leave to elect; they do not, like the monks of Peterborough,[1005] make such a petition, and enforce it by the strongest of arguments. No action of the Witan. Nor do bishops, earls, thegns, the nation at large, venture to act, any more than the monks. They murmur, and that is all. No action on the subject is recorded to have been taken in any of the gemóts till the vacancy had lasted nearly four years; and we shall see that the action which was at last taken showed more strongly than anything else that, as far as this world was concerned, Silent endurance of the action. it rested wholly with the King whether England should ever again have another primate or not. Through the whole time, the nation suffers, but it suffers in silence. We have already had to deal with a king on whose nod all things human and divine were held to hang;[1006] we are now dealing with a king who would have no petition made, no act ascribed, within his realm, to any God or man except himself.[1007]

Results, of the vacancy. The state of things during the time when William Rufus held firm to his purpose that no man should be archbishop but himself,[1008] and when the revenues of the archbishopric were paid into the hands of Randolf Flambard,[1009] was one of general corruption. Corruption of the clergy. It is immediately after recording the King’s way of dealing with bishoprics and abbeys that one of our chief guides breaks forth into his most vehement protest against the vices of the time, and specially against the corruption and degradation of the clergy.[1010] That they took to secular callings, that they became pleaders of causes and farmers of revenues, was not wonderful. Under the rule of Flambard there were endless openings for employments of this kind, employments for which, as in the case of Flambard himself, the clerk was commonly better fitted than the layman. Fiscal spirit of the time. And the general fiscal spirit of the time, the endless seeking after gold and silver of which the King set the example, naturally spread through all classes; every rich man, we are told, turned money-changer.[1011] The constant demands for actual coin, the large outlay of actual coin in the payment of the King’s mercenaries, must have led to an increased activity in the circulation of the precious metals. The newly-come Jews, strong in royal favour, doubtless found their account in this turn of things; but some classes of Christians seem to have found their account in it also. Effects of the lack of ecclesiastical discipline. But, besides all this, the writers of the time seem clearly to connect the frightful profligacy of the time, specially rife among the King’s immediate following, with the vacancy of the archbishopric. It is true that things were not much better in Normandy, where the good soul of Archbishop William must have been daily grieved at the unlawful deeds of almost every one around him. But an Archbishop of Rouen had never been held to have the same authority over either prince or people as an Archbishop of Canterbury. Whatever power, moral or formal, was at any time wielded by the ecclesiastical state for the reformation of manners was altogether in abeyance, now that there was no Primate either to call together a synod of the national Church or to speak with that personal authority which belonged to none of the chiefs of the national Church but himself. Even darker times were in store, when there was a Primate in the land, but when his authority was defied and his person insulted. But as yet the darkest times that men had known were the four years during which the sons of the English Church were left as sheep without a shepherd.

The shepherd was at last to come, like his immediate predecessor, in one sense from a distant land, in another sense from a land which was only too near. The house of Bec, the house of Herlwin, was for the second time to give a patriarch to the isle of Britain. Anselm. It had given us Lanfranc the statesman; it was now to give us Anselm the saint. Debt of England to foreigners. We may reckon it, not as the shame, but as the glory of our nation that we have so often won strangers, and even conquerors, to become our national leaders, and to take their place among the noblest worthies of the soil. Alongside of the lawgiver from Denmark, of the deliverer from France, we rank, as holding the same place among bishops which they hold among kings and earls, the holy man from the Prætorian Augusta.[1012] The annals of the eleventh and twelfth centuries are thick set with the names of foreign prelates holding English sees; and among them both Normandy and Lorraine, to say nothing of Pavia, had sent us some whom we might well be glad to welcome. The Burgundian saints. But the two whose names shine out above them all, the two from whose names all thought of their foreign birth passes away, the two whom we hail as our own by adoption and love, came from a more distant realm, and a realm which is well nigh forgotten. Hugh of Avalon. Hugh of Avalon and of Lincoln came from the more favoured and famous district where the Imperial Burgundy rises to the Alps and sinks again to the Rhone.[1013] Anselm of Aosta. Anselm of Aosta and of Canterbury came from that deep valley which, after all changes, is still Cisalpine Gaul. He came from that small outlying fragment of the Middle Kingdom which has not risen to the destiny of Unterwalden and Bern, of Lausanne and Geneva, but which has escaped the destiny of Bresse and Bugey, of Chablais and Nizza, of royal Arles and princely Orange, and of Hugh’s own home by the city of Gratian.[1014] The vale of Aosta, still Burgundian in its speech and buildings, the last remnant of the great Burgundian dominion of its lords, still gives a title to princes of the house of its earliest and of its latest Humbert. His parentage. The father of Anselm, no less than the father of Lanfranc, was of Lombard birth. But Gundulf had been fully adopted at Aosta, and his son, born on Burgundian soil, son of a Burgundian mother of lofty, perhaps of princely stock,[1015] must be reckoned as belonging to the Associations of his youth. Burgundy in which he was born and bred rather than to the Italy which in after days he visited as a stranger.[1016] There, in the last home of old Gaulish freedom, in an Augusta named after the first Augustus—​an Augusta which we doubt whether to call Prætorian from the conquerors or Salassian from the conquered—​in the long valley fenced in by the giant Alps on either side—​at the foot of the pass where local belief holds that Hannibal had crossed of old and where Buonaparte was to cross in days to come—​there where the square walls of the Roman town rise almost untouched above the rushing Dora—​where the street still bearing the name of Anselm leads from the Roman gate to the Roman arch of triumph, where the towers of Saint Gratus and Saint Urse, fellows of kindred towers at Verona and at Lincoln, at Schaffhausen and at Cambridge, rose fresh in all their squareness and sternness when Anselm lay as a babe beneath their shadow—​there, among the sublimest works of nature and among some of the most striking works of man, was born the teacher of Normandy, the shepherd of England, the man who dived deeper than any man before him into the most awful mysteries of the faith, but whom we have rather to deal with as one who ranks by adoption among the truest worthies of England, the man who stood forth as the champion of right against both political and moral wrong in the days when both political and moral wrong were at their darkest.

Comparison of Lanfranc and Anselm. I have already pointed out the contrast between the characters of Lanfranc and Anselm, in recording one memorable discourse between them, in which Anselm won Lanfranc over to a better mind in the matter of our English Ælfheah.[1017] The calling and the work of the two men were different; and the work of Anselm implied the earlier work of Lanfranc. Lanfranc was, after all, in some sort a conqueror of the English Church, and the character of a conqueror was one in which Anselm could never have shown himself. Lanfranc was a statesman, one whose policy could spread itself far beyond the bounds of this or that kingdom or nation, but whose very policy compelled him not to let the distinctions of kingdoms and nations slip out of his sight. To Anselm we could almost fancy that such distinctions were of small account. He was the servant of God and the friend of all God’s creatures; he perhaps hardly stopped to think whether those whose souls and bodies he was ever ready to help were Burgundian, Norman, or English. Anselm not preferred in England by the Conqueror. With such a spirit as this, he could not have done Lanfranc’s work; and it is worthy of remark that the Conqueror, who so greatly valued him, seems never to have thought of him for any preferment in England. Lanfranc had to carry out a policy, in some measure harsh and worldly, but which, granting his own position and that of his master, could not be avoided. Anselm fittingly came after him, at a time when national distinctions and national wrongs were almost forgotten in the universal reign of evil, to protest in the name of universal right, and in so doing to protest against particular and national wrongs. He would have been out of place in the first days of the Conquest; as a stranger, though only as a stranger, he would have been out of place in the days of our earlier freedom. Various sides of Anselm’s character. When he did come, he was thoroughly in place, as one who was before all things a preacher of righteousness, but who could, when need called for it, put on the mantle of the statesman and even that of the warrior. Like our own Wulfstan, in many things his fellow, we find him the friend and counsellor of men of a character most opposite to his own. And, as we have seen Wulfstan, if not commanding, at least directing, armies,[1018] so we shall see Anselm, if not waging war in his own person, at least hallowing more than one camp by his presence. And we can hardly blame him if, at some later stages of his career, he allowed himself to be swayed by scruples which he had never thought of at its beginning, if, in his zeal for eternal right, he allowed himself to sin against the ancient laws and customs of England. When England, Normandy, France, and the Empire, were as they all were in his day, we can forgive him for looking on the Roman Bishop as the one surviving embodiment of law and right, and for deeming that, when he spake, it was as when a man listened to the oracles of God.

Anselm and Eadmer. The tale of the early life of Anselm has been handed down to us by a loving companion, a man of our own nation, who was won in his youth by the kind words of the foreign saint when he came to England as a momentary visitor, and who in after times became the most faithful of disciples through all the changes of his fortunes. It is one of the marked features of the story that we know so little of Anselm, except from his own writings and from the narrative of Eadmer. Our own historians of the time speak of Anselm with the deepest reverence; References to Eadmer in other writers. but they say little of him beside the broad facts which lie on the surface of English history. Some of them directly refer to his special biographer for fuller accounts.[1019] In telling his story I find myself in the like case. Church’s Life of Anselm. I am tempted to refer once for all for the acts of Anselm to his Life as written in our own day by a master both of description and of comment.[1020] I could be well pleased to send my readers elsewhere to study Anselm the monk and abbot, and to concern myself only with his career as archbishop in our own land. But the earlier and the later career of Anselm hang together, and he has already made his appearance at more than one earlier stage of our own story. I must therefore attempt some general notice, though at less length than if the ground had not been thus forestalled, of the primate who came to us from Aosta, as his predecessor did from Pavia, and who, like his predecessor, made Bec a halting-place on the way to Canterbury.

Childhood of Anselm. In the life of Anselm a childhood and a manhood of eminent holiness are parted by a short time of youthful licence. The little child in his dream climbed his native mountains to seek for the palace of God on a Christian Olympos. He reported the idleness of the handmaids of his Lord; he sat at the feet of his Lord; he was refreshed by the steward of the divine household with a meal of the purest bread.[1021] The scholarly boy was so eager for the monastic life that he prayed for some sickness that might drive him into the cloister.[1022] His youthful licence. But the youth for a while cast aside his piety; he cast aside his learning; he gave himself to the thoughts and sports of the world; he even yielded to those temptations of the flesh which Wulfstan had withstood in the midst of his military exercises,[1023] and which Thomas withstood in the midst of his worldly business.[1024] But the love of his tender and pious mother kept him from wholly falling away. The yearning for a monastic life came He leaves Aosta. 1057.upon him again, though his wishes were greatly opposed by his father. At last, in his twenty-fourth year, Anselm left his own land. His sojourn at Avranches. After three years’ sojourn in Burgundy and France, he reached Normandy, and, in the steps of Lanfranc, first took up his abode at Avranches.[1025] But Lanfranc was now at Bec. He becomes a monk at Bec. 1060. Thither Anselm, fully bent on the monastic calling, followed the great scholar. He had doubted for a while between Bec and Clugny. We shall hardly think the worse of him for his frank confession of human feelings. He doubted, because at Clugny his human learning would be of no use, while at Bec it would be overshadowed by that of Lanfranc.[1026] In the end, by the advice of Lanfranc himself and of Archbishop Maurilius, he became a monk of Elected prior. 1063. Bec, and, when Lanfranc became Abbot of Saint Stephen’s, Anselm succeeded him in the office of prior.[1027]

Stories of him as prior. This first preferment Anselm seems to have taken willingly. A crowd of beautiful stories, setting forth his faith towards God and his kindliness towards all men, belong to this part of his career, the time when he was specially employed in writing his theological works. We admire the mixture of wisdom and kindness with which he reproved the abbot of another house who complained that the boys who were entrusted to his teaching got more and more unruly, even though they were whipped day and night.[1028] We are tempted to feel a slight grudge when he counsels a knight who seems to have been leading a good and devout life in the world to embrace the monastic calling.[1029] Much as that age needed men like Anselm, it still more needed men like Gulbert of Hugleville and Helias of La Flèche. But we note with some interest the comment of Eadmer, so curiously illustrating the common rivalry between one monastery and another. In such cases Anselm did not counsel profession at Bec rather than in any other house, and this particular convert took the cowl at Marmoutiers. Elected Abbot. 1078. At last, on the death of Herlwin, the unanimous choice of the convent called him to the place of abbot. His deep reluctance to accept so great a charge was overcome only by the express command of Archbishop Maurilius, who, on his election to the priorship, had bidden him by virtue of holy obedience to accept both that and any higher preferment which might come in his way.[1030] The election of Anselm to the abbacy marks a stage in our story. It was in his character of abbot that he was first brought into relations with England; in that character he paid his first visit to the land which was presently to make him her own.

Bec under Anselm. The fame of the new Abbot of Bec and of his house, great already, now grew still greater. Learning had shone at Bec ever since Lanfranc came thither; but hitherto it had shone only in the second rank. It now took the chief seat in the person of Abbot Anselm. He was sought by men from all parts as a friend, a teacher, a spiritual adviser. Of the open-handed hospitality of Bec it was not, we are told, for Norman neighbours to speak; those might speak who had found their way thither from the distant lands of Burgundy and Spain.[1031] His widespread fame. The whole Latin world drank in with eagerness the teaching of Anselm.[1032] Scholars of all lands came to sit at his feet. Noble ladies in their widowhood sought his neighbourhood and spiritual direction, and received the honourable title of mothers of the house.[1033] His correspondence. Like all the saints and scholars of his day, he had a crowd of correspondents of all classes; amongst them we see Countess Ida of Boulogne and the Conqueror’s renowned daughter Adela.[1034] Intercourse between Bec and England. And throughout his life and letters we see constant signs of the daily intercourse which, as naturally followed on the circumstances of the time, was ever going on between Normandy and England. The endless going to and fro between the two countries strikes us at every step.[1035] There was an interchange of men; if many Normans found their way to England, some Englishmen found their way to Normandy. Bec had already begun to give bishops to England. Lanfranc had placed two monks of his old house in the episcopal chair of Rochester.[1036] The second of them, the famous Gundulf, had been, when at Bec, the familiar friend of Anselm, who spoke little himself, but who listened to the great teacher, and wept at his touching words.[1037] On the other hand, in the house of Bec itself there were monks who were English of the Old-English stock, monks whom Lanfranc thought fit to call back to their own land and to the monastery of which he was the spiritual father.[1038]

Anselm had thus many ties of friendship and kindly association with England, even before he had any official connexion with the land or its inhabitants. And a strictly official connexion began long before he became archbishop. Lands of Bec in England. The Abbot of Bec had both temporal possessions and spiritual duties within our island. He was the lord of English estates and the spiritual father of brethren settled on English soil. The house of Bec appears in four places in Domesday as holder of lands in England; but one manor only was held in chief of the king. The church of Saint Mary of Bec held the lordship of Deverel in Wiltshire, once the possession of Brihtric, whether the son of Ælfgar or any less famous bearer of the name. This had been the gift of Queen Matilda, and it is worth noting that the value of the land had lessened in the few years between her death and the taking of the Survey.[1039] A smaller estate at Swinecombe in Oxfordshire, held of Miles Crispin, was more lucky; it had grown in value by one third.[1040] In Surrey the house held lands at Tooting and Streatham, the gift of Richard of Clare or of Tunbridge, him of whom we have so often heard. The possessions of Bec at Tooting, which had sunk to one fifth of their ancient value at the time of their grant to the abbey, had risen again to the value at which they were rated in the days of King Eadward.[1041] The business arising out of these lands, all seemingly held in demesne, with a mill, churls, slaves, and other dependents, must have called for some care on the part of the abbot or of those whom he employed for the purpose. And it would seem that, on the whole, the monastic body had been a careful husband of its English estates. In after times also Bec became the head of several alien priories in England; but one only of these can be carried back with certainty to Anselm’s day. This was the priory of Clare in Suffolk, afterwards moved to Stoke, which was founded as a cell to Bec while Anselm was abbot.[1042] The dependent priory of Clare. 1090. It was the gift of Gilbert of Clare, brother of Richard the other benefactor of the house, a house which seems to have had special attractions for the whole family of Count Gilbert.

Law-suits. Anselm was thus a land-owner on both sides of the sea, and, little as he loved temporal business, he could not wholly escape it. No man, no society of men, in either the Normandy or the England of those days, could hope to keep clear of law-suits. The house of Herlwin, new as it was and holy as it was, seems to have been entangled in not a few. Anselm’s desire to do justice. Anselm’s chief wish was that in these disputes justice should be done to all concerned. There were among the monks of Bec, as among the monks of other houses, men who knew the law and who were skilful in legal pleadings. The Abbot had sometimes to charge them to make no unfair use of their skill, and not to strive to win any advantage for the house but such as was strictly just.[1043] Otherwise, as far as he could, he entrusted mere worldly affairs—​the serving of tables—​to others.[1044] Yet he could not avoid journeys beyond sea on behalf of the house. He was thus more than once compelled to visit England. His first visit to England. 1078. He crossed the sea in the first year of his appointment as abbot. He came to Canterbury; he was received with mickle worship by Lanfranc and the monks of Christ Church.[1045] The first touch of English soil seems to have changed the Burgundian saint, the Norman abbot, into an Englishman and an English patriot. It was now that he made the memorable discourse in which he showed that English Ælfheah was a true martyr.[1046] His friendship with the monks of Christ Church. The Abbot of Bec did not scorn to be admitted into the brotherhood of the monks of Christ Church, and to dwell with them as one of themselves.[1047] It was the time when Lanfranc was doing his work of reform among them,[1048] a work which was doubtless helped by the sojourn and counsel of Anselm. With the more learned among them he lived familiarly, putting and answering questions, both in profane and sacred lore.[1049] And among them he made one friend, English by blood and name, whose memory is for ever entwined with his own. Eadmer. It was now that Eadmer, then a young monk of the house, won his deep regard, and attached himself for ever to the master whose acts he was in after times to record.[1050]

Anselm’s general popularity in England. But it was not only in the church which was one day to be his own, or among men of his own order only, that Anselm made friends in England. He made a kind of progress through the land, being welcomed everywhere, as well in the courts of nobles as in the houses of monks, nuns, and canons.[1051] Everywhere he scattered the good seed of his teaching, speaking to all according to their several callings, to men and women, married and unmarried, monks, clerks, laymen, making himself, as far as was lawful, all things to all men.[1052] Scholar and theologian as Anselm was, his teaching was specially popular; His preaching. he did not affect the grand style, but dealt largely in parables and instances which were easy to be understood.[1053] The laity therefore flocked eagerly to hear him, and every man rejoiced who could win the privilege of personal speech with the new apostle.[1054] The men of that age, stained as many of them were with great crimes—​perhaps all the more because their crimes were of a kind which they could not help feeling to be crimes—​commonly kept enough of conscience and good feeling to admire in others the virtues which they failed to practise themselves. William Rufus himself had moments when goodness awed him. It was only a few exceptional monsters like the fiend of Bellême whom no such feelings ever touched. His love for England. Anselm became the idol of all the inhabitants of England, without distinction of age or sex, of rank or race. The land became to him yet another home, a home which he loved to visit, and where he was ever welcome.[1055] His alleged miracles. Men sought to him for the cure of bodily as well as spiritual diseases; and we read of not a few cases of healing in which he was deemed to be the agent, cases in which modern times will most likely see the strong exercise of that power which, from one point of view, is called imagination, and from another faith.[1056] The highest in estate and power were the most eager of all to humble themselves before him. His friendship with the Conqueror; We have seen how the elder William, ever mild to good men, was specially mild to Anselm, how he craved his presence on his death-bed, and how Anselm, unable to help his master in life, was among those who did the last honours to him in death.[1057] We are told that there was not an earl or countess or great person of any kind in England, who did not seek the friendship of Anselm, who did not deem that his or her spiritual state was the worse if any opportunity had been lost of doing honour or service to the Abbot of Bec.[1058] Like some other saints of his own and of other times, he drew to himself the special regard of some whose characters were most unlike his own. with Earl Hugh. Earl Hugh of Chester, debauched, greedy, reckless, and cruel, beyond the average of the time, is recorded as being a special friend of the holy man.[1059] Hugh’s changes at Chester. He who rebuked kings doubtless rebuked earls also; but it would have been a better sign of reformation, if Hugh, under the teaching of Anselm, had learned to spare the eyes either of brother nobles or of British captives, than if he was merely led to place monks instead of canons at Saint Werburh’s, and in the end to take the cowl among them himself.

Feeling as to the vacancy of the archbishopric. 1092. But the planting of monks at Saint Werburh’s had no small effect on the destiny of Anselm and of England. In the course of the year which saw the annexation of Cumberland men began to be thoroughly wearied of the long vacancy of the archbishopric. It may be that the great gathering at Lincoln had brought home to every Vacancy of Lincoln.mind the great wrong under which the Church was suffering. The bishops of the land had come together to a great ecclesiastical rite; but they had come together as a body without a head. And they had parted under circumstances which made the state of things even worse than it had been when they met. The death of Remigius had handed over another bishopric to the wardship of Flambard. The land from the Thames to the Humber, the great diocese which took in nine shires, was to be left without a shepherd as long as Rufus and Flambard should think good. That is, it was to be left till some one among the King’s servants should be ready to do by Lincoln as Herbert Losinga had done by Thetford. Men began to say among themselves that such unlaw as this could not go on for ever; the land could not abide without a chief pastor; an archbishop must soon come somehow, whether the King and Flambard willed it or not. Anselm looked to as the coming archbishop. The feeling was universal; and with it another feeling was almost equally universal; when the archbishop should come, he could come only in the shape of the man who was of all men most worthy of the office, the man whom all England knew and loved as if his whole life had been spent within her seas, the holy Abbot of Bec.[1060] That such was the general feeling in England soon became known out of England; it became known at Bec as at other places; it was not hidden from the Abbot of Bec himself.

Earl Hugh seeks help from Anselm in his reforms. 1092. At the time which we have now reached Earl Hugh was planning his supposed reforms at Saint Werburh’s. Designing to fill the minster with monks, he would have his monks from the place where the monastic life was most perfectly practised; the men who were to kindle a new light at Chester must come from Bec.[1061] It was in the end from Bec that the first abbot Richard and his brethren came to wage that strife which we are told was so specially hard-fought in that region.[1062] But the founder further wished the work to be done under the eye of the Abbot of Bec himself; so, trusting in his old friendship, Earl Hugh prayed Anselm to come to him. His prayer was backed by that of other nobles of England;[1063] the monks of Bec too deemed that either the affairs of Saint Werburh’s or some other business of the monastery called for their abbot’s presence in England.[1064] Anselm refuses to go. But Anselm at first steadily refused to go; the general rumour had reached his own ears; he had been told that, if he went to England, he would certainly become Archbishop of Canterbury. His motives. He shrank from the acceptance of such an office; he shrank yet more from doing anything which might even have the look of seeking for such an office. It might be a question of casuistry whether the command of Maurilius to accept any preferment that might be offered could have any force beyond the life and the province of Maurilius; yet that command may have made Anselm yet more determined to keep out of the way of all danger of having the see of Canterbury offered to him. He refused to go to England, when it was possible that his object in going might be cruelly misconstrued.[1065] Hugh’s sickness and second message. Another message came, announcing that Earl Hugh was smitten with grievous sickness, and needed the spiritual help of his friend. Moreover Anselm need not be afraid; there was nothing in the rumours which he had heard; he stood in no danger of the archbishopric.[1066] In this Hugh most likely spoke the truth. Others had brought themselves to believe that there must soon be an archbishop, and that that archbishop must be Anselm. But they had no ground for thinking that anything of the kind would happen, except that it was the best thing that could happen. The Earl of Chester was as likely as any man except Flambard to know the King’s real mind; and what followed makes it plain that as yet Rufus had no thought of filling the archbishopric at all. The third message. Still Anselm would not go till a third message from the Earl appealed to another motive. It would not be for the soul’s health of Anselm himself if he stayed away when his friend so deeply needed his help.[1067] To this argument Anselm yielded; for the sake of friendship and of his friend’s spiritual welfare, he would go, let men say what they would about his motives for going.[1068]

He is bidden to go by his monks. But the invitation of Earl Hugh was not Anselm’s only motive for his journey. Another cause was added which a little startles us. The business of the abbey in England, business to be done with the King, still called for the abbot’s presence there. The monks sought to have the royal exactions on their English lands made less heavy.[1069] At this moment Anselm was not at Bec; he was spending some days at Boulogne with his friend and correspondent Countess Ida.[1070] While there, he received a message from Bec, bidding him, by virtue of the law of obedience, not to come back to the abbey till he had gone into England and looked after the matters about which he was needed there.[1071] Such a message as this from monks to their abbot sounds to us like a reversal of all monastic order; but it seems to have been held that, while each monk undoubtedly owed obedience to the abbot, the abbot himself owed obedience to the general vote of the convent. To these two influences, the law of obedience and care for Earl Hugh’s soul, Anselm at last yielded. He set sail from Boulogne or Whitsand, and landed at Dover. Anselm goes to England. He was now within what was presently to be his own province, his own diocese; and that province he was not again to leave till he sought shelter on the mainland in the character of archbishop and confessor.

The immediate business of Anselm led him to Chester, and to the place, wherever it was, where the King was to be found. We are told that he made the best of his way to his sick friend,[1072] who was so eager for Anselm’s coming that he despised all other spiritual help.[1073] But it is plain that he tarried on the road to see the King. From Dover his first stage was Canterbury. Anselm at Canterbury. September 8, 1092. There he was alarmed by the welcome given him by a crowd of monks and laymen who hailed him as their future archbishop. It was a high festival, the Nativity of our Lady; but Anselm, wishing to give no encouragement to such greetings as he had just received, declined to officiate at the celebration of the feast. He tarried but one night in the city, and left it early the next morning.[1074] His first interview with Rufus. He then went to the King. The reception which he met with showed that Rufus must have been for the moment in one of his better moods. Anselm indeed was a chosen friend of his father, and he had given him no personal offence. As soon as the approach of the Abbot of Bec was announced, the King arose, met him at the door, exchanged the kiss of peace, and led him by the hand to his seat.[1075] A friendly discourse followed. Perhaps the very friendliness of William’s greeting brought it more fully home to Anselm’s mind that it would be a failure of duty on his own part if he spoke only of the worldly affairs of his abbey. Anselm’s rebuke of the King. He must seize the moment to give a word of warning to a sinner whose evil deeds were so black, and who disgraced at the same time so lofty an office and such high natural gifts. Anselm asked that all others might withdraw; he wished for a private interview with the King. The affairs of the house of Bec were, for the moment at least, passed by; the welfare of the kingdom of England, and the soul’s health of its king, were objects which came first. Anselm told Rufus in plain words that the men of his kingdom, both secretly and openly, daily said things of him which in no way became his kingly office.[1076] From later appeals of Anselm to the conscience of Rufus, we may conceive that this general description took in at once the special wrongs done to the Church, the general abuses of William’s government, and the personal excesses of William’s own life. Anselm was not the man to hold his peace on any one of those three subjects; but we have no details of Anselm’s discourse from his own biographer, nor does he give us any notice of the way in which William received his rebuke.[1077] Yet it would seem that the milder mood of the Red King had not wholly passed away. If Anselm had been thrust aside with any violent or sarcastic answer, it would surely have passed into one of the stock anecdotes of the reign. Our only other description of the scene paints Rufus as held back from any disrespectful treatment of Anselm by a lingering reverence for the friend of his parents. He turned the matter off with a laugh. He could not hinder what men chose to say of him; but so holy a man as Anselm ought not to believe such stories.[1078] It is not even clear whether Anselm brought himself to speak at all on the particular business which had brought him to the King’s presence. Settlement of the affairs of Bec. King and Abbot parted; it would seem that nothing was done about the affairs of Bec for the present; but we may gather that, at some later time, the lands of the monastery were relieved from the burthens of which they complained.[1079]

Anselm at Chester. Anselm now went on to Chester, where he found his friend Earl Hugh restored to health. But the change in the foundation at Saint Werburh’s still needed his presence, and the special affairs of his own house had also to be looked to. Between these two sets of affairs, Anselm was kept in England for five months. The King refuses him leave to go back. February, 1093. He then wished to go back to Normandy; but the King’s leave, it seems, was needed, and the King’s leave was refused.[1080]

This refusal is worth notice. It does not seem to have been done in enmity; at least it was not followed by any kind of further wrong-doing on the King’s part towards Anselm. William’s feeling towards Anselm. It really looks as if William had, not indeed any fixed purpose of appointing Anselm to the archbishopric, but a kind of feeling that he might be driven to appoint him, a feeling that things might come to a stage in which he could not help naming some archbishop, and that, if it came to that stage, he could not help naming Anselm. It is plain from what follows that the thought of Anselm as a possible archbishop was in the King’s mind as well as in the minds of others. But certainly no offer or hint was at this stage made by William, nor was anything said to Anselm about the matter by any one else.[1081] Men no doubt knew Anselm’s feelings, and avoided the subject. But at one point during these five months the vacancy of the archbishopric was brought very strongly before Anselm’s mind, though Christmas Assembly, 1092–1093.not in a way which suggested his own appointment rather than that of anybody else. When the Midwinter Gemót of this year was held, the long vacancy, and the evils which flowed from it, The vacancy discussed by the Witan. became a matter of discussion among the assembled Witan. But they did not venture to attempt any election, or even to make any suggestion of their own; they did not even make any direct petition to the King to put an end to the vacancy. Petition of the Assembly to the King. A resolution was passed—​our contemporary guide doubted whether future ages would believe the fact—​that the King should be humbly petitioned to allow prayers to be put up throughout the churches of England craving that God would by his inspiration move the King’s heart to put an end to the wrongs of his head church and of all his other churches by the appointment of a worthy chief pastor.[1082] We thus see that the power of ending or prolonging the vacancy is acknowledged to rest only with the King; it is not for the Witan to constrain, but only for God to guide, the royal will. But we further see that the right of ordaining religious ceremonies is held to rest with the King and his Witan, just as it had rested in the days of Cnut.[1083] The unanimous petition of the Assembly was laid before the King. He was somewhat angry, but he took no violent step. He agreed to the matter of the address, but in a scornful shape. Prayers for the appointment of an archbishop. “Pray as you will; I shall do as I think good; no man’s prayers will do anything to shake my will.”[1084] To draw up a proper form of prayer was the natural business of the bishops; and they had among them one specially skilled in such matters in the person of Osmund of Salisbury. But they all agreed to consult the Abbot of Bec, and to ask him to draw up a prayer fitted for the purpose. Anselm draws up a form of prayer. Anselm, after much pressing, agreed; he drew up the prayer; it was laid before the Assembly, and his work was approved by all.[1085] The Gemót broke up, and prayers were offered throughout England, according to Anselm’s model, for the appointment of an archbishop, a prayer which on most lips doubtless meant the appointment of Anselm himself.[1086]

The year 1093. Before the Assembly broke up, a memorable year had begun. It is a year crowded with events, with the deaths of memorable men, with one death above all which led to most important results on the relations between the two great parts of the isle of Britain. With these events I shall deal in another chapter; we have now mainly to trace the ecclesiastical character of the year as the greatest of all stages in the career of Anselm. The Assembly had doubtless been held at Gloucester, and, after the session was over, the King tarried in the neighbourhood, at the royal house of Alvestone, once a lordship of Earl Harold.[1087] William’s sickness at Alvestone. There he was smitten with a heavy sickness. The tale has a legendary sound; yet there is nothing really incredible in the story that he fell sick directly after he had been guilty of a mocking speech about Anselm. Discourse about Anselm before the King. Some nobles were with the King at Alvestone, and one of them spoke of the virtues of the Abbot of Bec. He was a man who loved God only, and sought for none of the things of this world. The King says in mockery, “Not for the archbishopric of Canterbury?” The remark at least shows that Anselm and the archbishopric went together in the King’s thoughts as well as in the thoughts of other men.[1088] The King’s mockery. The lord who had spoken answered that, in his belief and in that of many others, the archbishopric was the very thing which Anselm least wished for.[1089] The King laughed again, and said that, if Anselm had any hope of the archbishopric, he would clap his hands and stamp with his feet, and run into the King’s arms. But he added, “By the face of Lucca, he and every other man who seeks the archbishopric may this time give way to me; for I will be archbishop myself.”[1090] He repeated the jest several times. He falls sick and is moved to Gloucester. Presently sickness came upon him, and, in a few hours, he took to his bed. He was carried in haste from Alvestone to the neighbouring city, where he could doubtless find better quarters and attendance.[1091] He lay sick during the whole of Lent; Ash Wednesday, March 2, 1093.but, unless his sickness began somewhat earlier, the whole of the events with which we have to deal must have been crowded into the first few days of the penitential season. At all events, during the first week of Lent, William Rufus was lying at Gloucester, sick of a sickness which both himself and others deemed to be unto death.[1092]

Repentance of Rufus. The heart of the Red King was not yet wholly hardened; with sickness came repentance. Believing himself to be at the gates of the next world, his conscience awoke, and he saw in their true light the deeds which he had been so long doing in this world. He no longer jested at his own crimes and vices; he bemoaned them and began to think of amendment. The great men of the realm, bishops, abbots, and lay nobles, pressed around his sick bed, looking for his speedy death, and urging him to make what atonement he could for his misdeeds, while he yet lived. Advice of the prelates and nobles. Let him throw open his prisons; let him set free his captives; let him loose those who were in chains; let him forgive his debtors—​it is again assumed that a debt to the Crown must be a wrongful debt—​let him provide pastors for the churches which he holds in his hands; above all, let him set free the head church of all, the church of Canterbury, whose bondage was the most crying wrong of his kingdom.[1093] All this they pressed, each to the best of his power, on the no longer unwilling mind of the King. It bethought them moreover that there was one not far off, who was more skilled than any of them in healing the diseases of the soul, and whose words would strike deeper into the heart of the penitent than the words of any other. Anselm sent for. The Abbot of Bec was still in England; he was even, knowing nothing of what was going on, tarrying at no great distance from Gloucester.[1094] A messenger was sent, bidding him come with all speed; the King was dying, and needed his spiritual help before all was over. Anselm and Rufus. Anselm came at once; he asked what had passed between the sick man and his directors, and he fully approved of all the counsel that they had given to the repentant sinner.[1095] The duties of confession, of amendment, of reparation, the full and speedy carrying out of all that his advisers had pressed upon him, was the only means, the only hope. By the general voice of all, Anselm was bidden to undertake the duty of making yet another exhortation to the royal penitent. Anselm spoke, and William hearkened. He more than hearkened; he answered, and for the moment he acted. Rufus promises amendment. He accepted all that Anselm told him; he promised to amend his ways, to rule his kingdom in mildness and righteousness. To this he pledged his faith; he made the bishops his sureties, and bade them renew the promise in his name to God before the altar.[1096] His proclamation. More practical still, a proclamation was put forth under the royal seal, promising to the people, in the old form, good laws, strict heed to right, strict examination into wrong. The vacant churches should be filled, and their revenues should be restored to them. The King would no longer sell them or set them to farm. All prisoners should be set free; all debts to the crown should be forgiven; all offences against the King should be pardoned, and all suits begun in the King’s name stopped.[1097] General satisfaction. Great was the joy through the land; a burst of loyal thankfulness was in every heart and on every mouth. The rule of King William was henceforth to be as the rule of the best of the kings who had gone before him. Thanksgivings went up to God through the whole land, and earnest prayers for the welfare of so great and so good a king.[1098]

This was the second time that the people of England had greedily swallowed the promises of the Red King. He had already deceived them once; but kings are easily trusted, and the awful circumstances under which reform was now promised might well lead men to believe that the promise was sincere. Beginnings of reform. Sincere for the moment it doubtless was; nor did the proclamation remain altogether a dead letter. The reforms were actually begun; some at least of the prisoners were set free. William also now made grants to some monasteries,[1099] and, what was more important than all, he filled the vacant bishoprics. He grants the bishopric of Lincoln to Robert Bloet. The fame of one of the two appointments so fills the pages of our guides that we might easily forget that it was now that the staff of Remigius was given to Robert Bloet.[1100] We have heard of him already as an old servant of William the Great, and as trusted by him with the weighty letter which ruled the succession of the crown on behalf of William the Red.[1101] He was now the King’s Chancellor. He bears a doubtful character; he was not a scholar, but he was a man skilful in all worldly business; he was not a saint, but he was perhaps not the extreme sinner which some have painted him.[1102] His consecration was put off for nearly a year; and we shall meet him again in the midst of a striking and busy scene when the next year has begun. For the present we need only remember that two bishops, and not one only, were invested, according to the ancient use of England, by the royal hand at the bedside of William Rufus.

We may take for granted that it took no such struggle to change the King’s Chancellor into the Bishop-elect of Lincoln as it took to change the man on whom all eyes were now fixed into an Archbishop-elect of Canterbury. March 6, 1093. It was now a Sunday, the first Sunday in Lent; a gathering of bishops and other chief men stood around the King who was believed to be dying. He had solemnly repented; he must now make restitution. The best men among those who stood around him pressed yet more strongly on his mind the duty of at once filling the metropolitan see. The sick man answered that such was his purpose. They asked whom he deemed worthy of such a post; none dared suggest any name; the choice rested wholly with the royal will.[1103] Rufus names Anselm to the archbishopric. The King made an effort; he sat up in his bed; he pointed out the Abbot of Bec among those who filled the room, and spake the words; “I choose this holy man Anselm.”[1104] The feeling which now bids men to listen in silence to the official utterances of royal lips was then unheard of; even the fear of danger to the sick man General delight. yielded to the universal joy; a loud shout of applause rang through the chamber which was soon, as men deemed, to be the chamber of death. One man alone joined not in the shout; one man grew pale and trembled in every limb. The moment so long dreaded had at last come; the burthen from which he shrank was at last to be forced on the shoulders of the struggling abbot. For in the case of Anselm the struggle was no metaphor. Unwillingness of Anselm. He was dragged to the King’s bedside to receive the investiture[1105]—​no thought of the elective rights of the monks of distant Christ Church seems to have come into the head of any man. Pouring out reasons against his own appointment, Anselm withstood by main force all efforts to drag him nearer to the King. The bishops at last succeeded in drawing him apart from the crowd, and began Arguments of the bishops. to argue with him more quietly.[1106] They warned him not to withstand the will of God, or to refuse the work to which he was called. He saw that Christianity had almost died out in England; everything had fallen into confusion; every abomination was rife. One bolder voice—​was it the voice of English Wulfstan or of Norman Gundulf?—​added words such as are not often uttered in the chamber of a king, and which even then perhaps were not meant to reach kingly ears. “By the tyranny of that man”[1107]—​pointing to the sick king on his bed—​“we and the churches which we ought to rule have fallen into danger of eternal death; wilt thou, when thou canst help us, scorn our petition?” The appeal went on; Anselm was told how the church of Canterbury, in whose oppression all were oppressed, called to him to raise up her and them; could he, casting aside all thought for her freedom, all thought for the help of his brethren, refuse to share their work, and seek only his own ease? Anselm pleaded at length; he was old; he was unused to worldly affairs. He prayed to be allowed to abide in the peaceful calling which he loved. The bishops all the more called on him to take the rule over them which was offered to him; let him guide them in the way of God; let him pray to God for them, and they would manage all worldly affairs for him.[1108] He then pleaded that he was the subject of another realm;[1109] he owed obedience to his own prince, to his own archbishop; he could not cast off his duty to them without their leave; nay, he could not, without the consent of his own monks, cast off the duties which he owed to them. The bishops told him that the consent of all concerned would be easily gained. He protested that all that they did, all that they purposed, was nought.[1110]

Anselm dragged to the King’s bedside. The bishops had certainly the better in the argument; they had also the better in the physical struggle; for they now dragged Anselm close to the King’s bedside. They set forth to Rufus what they called the obstinacy of the Abbot;[1111] it was for the King to try what his personal authority could do. The sick man, lately so proud and scornful, was stirred even to tears; he made a speech far longer than his wont, but which seems to carry with it the stamp of genuineness. He had raised himself to speak his formal choice with a voice of authority; he now spoke, in plaintive and beseeching words, in the ear of the holy man beside him. In the mind of Rufus at that moment it was his own personal salvation that was at stake. Pleadings of the King. “O Anselm,” he whispered, “why do you condemn me to eternal torments? Remember, I pray you, the faithful friendship which my father and my mother had to you and which you had to them; by that friendship I adjure you not to let their son perish both in body and soul. For I am sure that I shall perish if I die while I still have the archbishopric in my hands.[1112] Help me then, help me, lord and father; take the bishopric for the holding of which I am already greatly confounded, and fear that I shall be confounded for ever.” Still Anselm drew back and excused himself. Then the bishops again took up their parable in a stronger tone. Further pleadings of the bishops What madness had possessed him? He was harassing the King, almost killing him; his last moments were embittered by Anselm’s obstinacy.[1113] They gave him to know that whatever disturbances, oppressions, and crimes, might hereafter disturb England would all lie at his door, if he did not stop them that day by taking on him the pastoral care. Still—​so he himself witnessed afterwards—​wishing rather, if it were God’s will, to die than to take on him the archbishopric, he turned to two of his own monks who had come with him, Eustace and Baldwin of Tournay, and asked them to help him.[1114] Baldwin answered, and of his own monks. “If it be the will of God that it shall be so, who are we that we should withstand the will of God?” His words were followed by a flood of tears, his tears by a gush of blood from his nostrils. Anselm, surely half-smiling, said, “Alas, how soon is your staff broken.” The King then, seeing that nothing was gained, bade the bishops fall at Anselm’s feet and implore him to take the see. A like scene had been gone through at Bec when it was first sought to raise Anselm to the abbacy.[1115] The bishops fell at his feet, and implored; Anselm fell at their feet, and implored back again. There was nothing to be done save the last shift of, so to speak, investing him with the bishopric by physical force. He is invested by main force. A cry was raised for a pastoral staff; the staff was brought, and was placed in the sick king’s hand.[1116] The bishops seized the right arm of Anselm; some pushed; some pulled; he was forced close up to the Kings bed. The King held out the staff; the Abbot, though his arm was stretched out against his will, held his hand firmly clenched. The bishops strove to force open his fingers, till he shrieked with the pain. After much striving, they managed to raise his forefinger, to place the staff between that one finger and his still closed hand, and to keep it there with their own hands.[1117] This piece of sheer violence was held to be a lawful investiture. The assembled crowd—​we are still in the sick king’s room—​began to shout “Long live the Bishop.” The bishops and clergy began to sing Te Deum with a loud voice.[1118] He is installed in the church. Then the bishops, abbots, and nobles, seized Anselm, and carried rather than led him into a neighbouring church—​was it the great minster of Ealdred or its successor growing up under the hands of Serlo?[1119]—​while he still refused and struggled and protested that all that they did went for nothing.[1120] A looker-on, Anselm himself says, might have doubted whether a crowd in their right mind were dragging a single madman, or whether a crowd of madmen were dragging a single man who kept his right mind.[1121] Anyhow they reached the church and there went through the ceremonies which were usual on such occasions.[1122] Anselm was now deemed to have become, however much against his own will, Archbishop-elect of Canterbury.

Anselm’s renewed protest. From the church Anselm went back to the King’s chamber. He there renewed his protest against the appointment, but he renewed it in the form of a prophecy. “My lord the King, I tell you that you will not die of this sickness; I would therefore have you know how easily you can undo what has been this day done with regard to me, as I never agreed, nor do I agree, that it shall be held valid.”[1123] He then left the sick room, and spoke to the bishops and nobles in some other place, perhaps the hall of the castle. Whether formally summoned as such or not, they were practically a Gemót of the realm.[1124] His parable to the prelates and nobles. Anselm spoke to them in a parable, founded on the apostolic figure which speaks of the Church as God’s husbandry.[1125] In England the plough of the Church ought to be drawn by two chief oxen of equal strength, each pulling with the same good will. These were the King and the Archbishop of Canterbury, one ruling by worldly justice and dominion, the other by divine doctrine and teaching. So, he implies, it had been in the days of William the Great and of Lanfranc his yoke-fellow.[1126] The figure is one which will bear much study. It is perhaps in England alone that it could have been used. Its special fitness in England. In the highest rank of all, used to the loftier metaphors of the two great lights of heaven and the two swords on earth, figures drawn from ploughs and oxen might have seemed unworthy of the supreme majesty of the Roman Emperor and the Roman Pontiff. In other lands the metaphor would have failed from another side. The Primate of Rheims or of Rouen could hardly be spoken of as in the same sort the yoke-fellow of the French King or the Norman Duke. In England the parable had more truth. It set forth at once the supreme ecclesiastical authority of the King, and the check which ancient custom put on that authority in the shape of an archiepiscopal tribune of the people. But the happy partnership of the two powers had come to an end. The strong ox Lanfranc was dead. His surviving yoke-fellow was a young and untameable wild bull.[1127] With him they wished to yoke an old and feeble sheep, who might perhaps furnish them with the wool and milk of the Lord’s word, and with lambs for His service,[1128] but who was utterly unequal to the task of pulling in fellowship with such a comrade. His weakness and the King’s fierceness could never work together. If they would only think over the matter, they would give up the attempt which they had begun. The joy with which they had hailed his nomination would be turned into sorrow. They talked of his raising up the Church from widowhood; if they insisted on forcing him into the see, the Church would be thrust down into a yet deeper widowhood, widowhood during the life of her pastor. He himself would be the first victim; none of them would dare to give him help, and then the King would trample them too under his feet at pleasure. He then burst into tears; he parted from the assembly, and went to his own quarters, whether in the city of Gloucester or at the unnamed place where he had before been staying.[1129] The King orders the restitution of the lands of the see. The King, foreseeing no further difficulties, gave orders that steps should be taken for investing him without delay with the temporal possessions of the see.[1130] But a whole train of unlooked-for hindrances appeared before Anselm could be put into possession of either the temporal or the spiritual powers of Lanfranc.

The royal right of investiture not questioned. At this first stage of the story, as at every other, as long as the scene is laid in England, we are struck in the strongest way by the fact that every one concerned takes the ancient customs of England for granted. If those customs have changed from what they may have been under Cnut or Eadward, they have at least not changed to the advantage of the Roman see, or indeed of the ecclesiastical power in any shape. Hildebrand has no followers either in England or in Normandy. No one has called in question the right either of the King of the English or of the Duke of the Normans to invest the prelates of his dominions with the pastoral staff. No scruples on the part of Anselm. There is not one word in the whole story implying that any one had any scruple on the subject. Anselm clearly had none. He had received the staff of Bec from the Duke; if he was not ready to receive the staff of Canterbury from the King, it was not because of any scruple as to the mode of appointment, but because he refused to accept the appointment itself, however made. Not a single English bishop has a word to say on the matter. We could not look for such scruples in Wulfstan who had received his staff from the holy Eadward; but neither do they trouble William of Saint-Calais, so lately the zealous champion of the rights of Rome. If anything, the bishops seem to attribute a kind of mystic and almost sacramental efficacy to the investiture by the King’s hand. No ecclesiastical election. Nor is there a word said as to the rights of any ecclesiastical electors, the monks of Christ Church or any other. It is taken for granted that the whole matter rests with the King. Anselm protests against the validity of the act, but not on any ground which assumed any other elector than the King. The nomination was invalid, because he did not consent to it himself, because the Duke of the Normans, the Archbishop of Rouen, and the monks of Bec, had not consented to it. Anselm is very careful as to the rights of all these three; he has not a word to say about the rights of the monks of Christ Church. Had he been a subject of the crown of England, a bishop or presbyter of the province of Canterbury, and himself willing to accept the archbishopric, there would clearly have been in his eyes nothing irregular in his accepting it in the form in which it was forced upon him, by the sole choice and sole investiture of the King. Later change in Anselm’s views. He afterwards learned to think otherwise; but it was neither at Canterbury nor at Bec nor at Aosta that he learned such scruples. He had to go beyond English, Norman, and Burgundian ground to look for them. At present he does at every stage, as an ordinary matter of course, something which his later lights would have led him to condemn. Gundulf’s letter to the monks of Bec. But it certainly does seem strange when Bishop Gundulf of Rochester, in a letter to his old companions the monks of Bec, tells them that the King had given the government of the church of Canterbury to their abbot Anselm, by the advice and request of his great men and by the petition and election of the clergy and people.[1131] We have often come across such phrases;[1132] and this case, where we know every detail, may help us to estimate their meaning in some other cases. That Anselm’s appointment had been the general wish of all classes before it was made, that it received the general approval of all classes after it was made, there is no manner of doubt. But there is no sign of any formal advice, petition, or election, by any class of men at any stage. It may be that the ceremony in the church at Gloucester was held to pass for an election by the clergy and people. But that was after the King had, by the delivery of the staff, given to Anselm the government of the church of Canterbury. Sole action of the King. Even in Gundulf’s formula, the advice, petition, and election are mere helps to guide the King’s choice; it is the King who actually bestows the see. And here again, of the rights of the monks of the metropolitan church there is not a word.

Several months passed after this amazing scene at Gloucester before Anselm was fully admitted to the full possession of the archbishopric. He had not yet given any consent himself, and the consents of the Norman Duke, the Norman Archbishop, and the Norman monks, on all of which Anselm laid such stress, were still to be sought for. Anselm tarries with Gundulf. The King sent messengers to all of them, and meanwhile Anselm was, by the King’s order, lodged on some of the archiepiscopal manors under the care of his old friend Bishop Gundulf.[1133] One may suspect that it was the influence of this prelate, a good man plainly, but not very stout-hearted, and more ready than Anselm to adapt himself to the ruling powers, which brought Anselm to the belief that he ought to give way to what he himself calls the choice of all England, and which he now allows to be the will of God. At any rate Anselm brought himself to write letters to the monks of Bec, asking their consent to his resignation of the abbey and acceptance of the archbishopric.[1134] Consent of the Duke, the Archbishop of Rouen, and the monks of Bec. For it was with the monks of Bec that the difficulty lay; Duke Robert and Archbishop William seem to have made no objection.[1135] It was, after much hesitation, and by a narrow majority only that the convent agreed to part with the abbot who had brought such honour upon their house.[1136] In the end all the needful consents were given. Anselm was free from all obligations beyond the sea. But he still had not given his own formal consent to the acceptance of the archbishopric. A long series of acts, temporal and spiritual, were needed to change the simple monk and presbyter, as he was now once more, into an Archbishop of Canterbury, clothed with the full powers and possessions of the Patriarch of all the nations beyond the sea. Those acts needed the consent, some of them needed the personal action, of the King. And King William the Red was now again quite another man from what he had been when he lay on his sick bed at Gloucester.

The King’s recovery. The King’s sickness is said to have lasted during the whole of Lent; but he seems to have been restored to health early enough to hold the Easter Gemót at Winchester.[1137] Anselm was there, in company with his guardian The Easter Gemót. 1093.Bishop Gundulf and his friend Baldwin the monk of Bec; but there is no mention of any business being done between him and the King. Doubtless the needful letters had not yet come from Normandy, even if Anselm had so soon brought himself to write those which were needful on his own part. By this time William was again in full health, and, with his former state of body, his former state of mind had also come back. William falls back into evil ways. He had repented of his repentance; he had fallen back into all his old evil courses with more eagerness than ever. All the wrong that he had done before he fell sick was deemed to be a small matter compared with the wrong which he did after he was restored to health.[1138] It is to this stage of his life that one of the most hideous of his blasphemous sayings is assigned. His renewed blasphemy. Instead of thankfulness for his renewed health, he looked on his sickness as a wrong done to him by his Maker, for which he would in some way have his revenge. It was now that he told Bishop Gundulf, whom we can fancy faintly exhorting him to keep in the good frame of mind which he had put on while he lay on his sick bed—​“God shall never see me a good man; I have suffered too much at his hands.”[1139] And his practice was such as became the fool who said that there was no God, or rather the deeper fool who said that there was a God, and yet defied him. He recalls his acts of mercy. He even went on to undo, as far as lay in his power, the good works which he had done during his momentary repentance. Some of the prisoners to whom he had promised deliverance were already set free, and some of those who were set free had taken themselves beyond his reach. But those who were still in safe-keeping were kept in yet harsher bondage than before; and of those who had been set free as many as could be laid hold of were sent back to their prisons. The pardons, the remissions of debts, which had been put forth were recalled. Every man who had been held liable before the King’s sickness was held liable again. His gifts to monasteries were also recalled.[1140] But one thing which William had promised to do he remained as fully minded to do as before. He keeps his purpose as to Anselm. At no stage did he show the slightest purpose of recalling his grant of the archbishopric to Anselm. This distinction is quite in harmony with the general character of William Rufus. The reforms which he had promised, and which he had partly carried out, were part of the ordinary duty of a man in that state of life to which William had been called, the state of a king. As such, they were reckoned by him among those promises which it was beyond his power to fulfil. But his engagement to Anselm was of another kind. To say nothing of Anselm being the old friend of his father, his engagement to him was strictly personal. If it was not exactly done in the character of a good knight, it was done as the act of a man to a man. It was like a safe-conduct; it touched, not so much William’s kingly duty as his personal honour. William’s honour did not keep him back from annoying and insulting Anselm, or from haggling with him about money in a manner worthy of the chivalrous Richard himself. But it did keep him back from any attempt to undo his own personal act and promise. He had prayed Anselm to take the archbishopric; he had forced the staff, as far as might be, into Anselm’s unwilling hand. From that act he would not draw back, though he was quite ready to get any advantage for himself that might be had in the way of carrying it out.

Events of March-December, 1093. But we must not fancy that the affairs of Anselm and of the see to which he had been so strangely called were the only matters which occupied the mind of England during this memorable year. The months which passed between the first nomination of Anselm and his consecration to the archbishopric, that is, the months from March to December, were a busy time in affairs of quite another kind than the appointment of pastors of the Church. The events of those months chiefly concerned the relations of England to the other parts of the island, Welsh and Scottish, and I shall speak of them at length in another chapter. Affairs of England and Wales. Here it is enough to say that the very week of the Easter Gemót was marked by striking events in Wales,[1141] and that during the whole time from March to August, negotiations were going on between William and Malcolm of Scotland. In August Dealings between William and Malcolm. Malcolm came personally to Gloucester, but William refused to see him. Malcolm then went home in wrath, and took his revenge in a fifth and last invasion of England, in the course of which he was killed near Alnwick in the month of November. By that time Anselm was already enthroned, but not yet consecrated. The main telling of the two stories must be kept apart; but it is well always to keep the joint chronology of the two in mind. In reading the Lives of Anselm, where secular affairs are mentioned only casually, we might sometimes forget how stirring a time the year of Anselm’s appointment was in other ways; while the general writers of the time, as I have already noticed,[1142] tell us less about Anselm than we should have looked for. The affairs of Scotland and the affairs of Anselm were going on at the same time; and along with them a third chain of affairs must have begun of which we shall hear much in the next year. Designs of Rufus on Normandy. Rufus was by this time already planning a second attack on his brother in Normandy. Except during the short season of his penitence, he was doubtless ready for such an enterprise at any moment. And this same year, seemingly in the course of its summer, a special tempter came over from beyond sea. Action of William of Eu. This was William of Eu, of whom we have already heard as the King’s enemy and of whom we shall hear again in the same character, but who just now appears as the King’s counsellor. As the owner of vast English estates, he had played a leading part in the first rebellion against William, with the object of uniting England and Normandy under a single prince.[1143] That object he still sought; but he now sought to gain it by other means. He had learned which of the brothers was the more useful master to serve. His divided allegiance. He was now, by the death of his father, Count of Eu, and Eu was among the parts of Normandy which Robert had yielded to William.[1144] For Eu then Count William was the man of King William; but he was still the man of Duke Robert for some other parts of his possessions. He suggests an attack on Normandy. He thought it his interest to serve one lord only; he accordingly threw off his allegiance to Robert, and came over to England to stir up William to take possession of the whole duchy.[1145] And it must surely have been in connexion with these affairs that, at some time between March and September, William and Robert Count of Flanders. William had an interview with Count Robert of Flanders at Dover. By this description we are doubtless to understand the elder Count Robert, the famous Frisian, of whom we have already heard as an enemy to the elder William,[1146] but who must now have been at least on terms of peace with his son. Death of Count Robert. October 4 or 13, 1093. He was drawing near the end of his life, a memorable life, nearly the last act of which had been honourable indeed. He had, several years before the preaching of the crusade, sent a body of the choicest warriors of Flanders to defend Eastern Christendom against the Turk.[1147] Robert died in October of this year, and was succeeded by his Robert of Jerusalem. son Robert of Jerusalem,[1148] a name which the father had an equal right to bear. The younger Robert had been associated by his father in the government of the county; but one may suppose that, when our guide speaks of Robert Count of Flanders, it is the elder Robert who is meant. He was the enemy of the elder William rather in his Norman than in his English character, and his enmity may have passed to his successor in the duchy and not to his successor in the kingdom. Relation between William and the Flemish Counts. One can hardly help thinking that this meeting of William of England and Robert of Flanders had some reference to joint operations designed against Robert of Normandy. But, if so, the alliance was put an end to by the death of Robert the Frisian, and, when the time for his Norman enterprise came, William had to carry it on without Flemish help.

Interview between Anselm and the King at Rochester. By this time Anselm had received the letters from Normandy which were to make him free to accept the archbishopric; but the letters to the King from the same parties had not yet come. At this stage then Anselm wished for an interview with the King, the first—​unless they met at Easter at Winchester—​since they had parted in the sick room at Gloucester. William was on his way back from his meeting with the Count of Flanders at Dover; he came to Rochester, where Anselm was then staying with Bishop Gundulf. There Anselm took the King aside, and laid the case before him as it then stood.

Anselm’s position. Anselm was at this moment, in his own view, a private man. He was no longer Abbot of Bec. His monks had released him from that office, and he had formally resigned it by sending back to them the pastoral staff.[1149] He was not yet Archbishop of Canterbury; he was not yet, in his own view, even Archbishop-elect; all that had been done at Gloucester he counted for null and void. But he was now free to accept the archbishopric, and, though he still did not wish for the post, he had got over the scruples which had before led him to refuse it. In such a case he deemed it his duty to be perfectly frank with the King, and to tell him on what terms only he would accept the primacy, if the King still persisted in offering it to him.

His conditions with the King. The conditions which Anselm now laid before William Rufus were three. The first of them had to do with the temporal estates of the archbishopric. I have elsewhere spoken of the light in which we ought to look at demands of this kind.[1150] Restoration of the estates of the see. We may be sure that Anselm would gladly have purchased the peace of the land, the friendship of the King, or anything that would profit the souls or bodies of other men, at the cost of any temporal possessions which were strictly his own to give up. But, if he became Archbishop of Canterbury, he would become a steward of the church of Canterbury, a trustee for his successors, the guardian of gifts which had been given to God, His saints, and His Church. In any of these characters, it would be a sin against his own soul and the souls of others, if he willingly allowed anything which had ever been given to his church to be taken from her or detained from her. If the King chose to keep the see vacant and to turn its revenues to his own use, that would be his sin and not Anselm’s; but Anselm would be a sharer in the sin, if he accepted the see without requiring full restitution of everything to which the see had a lawful claim. In the private conference at Rochester, he therefore demanded, as a condition of his accepting the see, that he should receive all that Lanfranc had held, without delay or dispute or process in any court. As for lands to which his church had an ancient claim, but which Lanfranc had been unable to win back, for those he demanded that the King should do him justice in his court.[1151] The second demand touched the ancient relations between the crown and the archbishopric. The sheep, about to be yoked with the wild bull, sought to make terms with his fierce comrade. He demands to be the King’s spiritual guide. Anselm demanded that, in all matters which touched God and Christianity, the King should take him as his counsellor before all other men; as he acknowledged in the King his earthly lord, so let the King acknowledge in him his ghostly father and the special guardian of his soul.[1152]

Acknowledgement of Popes. To these two requests Anselm added a third, one which touched a point on which the Red King seems to have been specially sensitive. It had been the rule of his father’s reign that no Pope should be acknowledged in England without his consent.[1153] William Rufus seems to have construed this rule in the same way in which he construed some others. From his right to nominate to bishoprics and abbeys he had inferred a right not to nominate to them; so, from his right to judge between contending popes, he inferred the right to do without acknowledging any pope at all. And, if the King acted in this way for his own ends, the country at large seems to have shown a remarkable indifference to the whole controversy. To Englishmen and to men settled in England it was clearly a much greater grievance to be kept without an Archbishop of Canterbury than it was to be left uncertain who was the lawful pope. Schism in the papacy. Victor the Third. 1086–1087. Urban the Second. 1088–1099. Urban and Clement. At this moment the Western Church was divided between the claims of Wibert or Clement, the Imperial anti-pope of the days of Hildebrand, and those of Urban, formerly Odo of Ostia, who, after the short reign of Victor, stepped into Hildebrand’s place. In the eyes of strict churchmen Urban was the true Vicar of Christ, and Wibert was a wicked intruder and schismatic. Yet it will be remembered that Lanfranc himself had, when the dispute lay between Wibert and Hildebrand, spoken with singular calmness and caution of a question which to more zealous minds seemed a matter of spiritual life and death.[1154] Our own Chronicler seems to have measured popes, as well as English feeling on the subject. kings and bishops, by the standard of possession; he found it hard to conceive a pope that “nothing had of the settle at Rome.”[1155] Even Anselm’s own biographer speaks very quietly on the point. Two rival candidates claimed the popedom; but which was the one rightly chosen no one in England, we are told, knew—​or seemingly cared.[1156] Another of our guides describes Urban and Clement as alike men of personal merit, and looks on the controversy as one in which there was much to be said on both sides. The chief argument for Urban was that his supporters seemed to increase in number; otherwise no one really knew on which side the divine right was. In England opinion was divided; but fear of the King—​so we are told—​made it lean on the whole to Clement.[1157] Earlier in the reign we have heard Bishop William of Durham talk a great deal about going to the Pope; but he had taken care not to say to which pope he meant to go, and in the end he had not gone to either.[1158] Anselm requires to be allowed to acknowledge Urban. With Anselm the matter was more serious. Urban was his pope. All the churches of Gaul had acknowledged him; Bec and the other churches of Normandy had acknowledged him along with the rest.[1159] From the obedience which he had thus plighted he could not fall back. He told the King that, though he, King William, had not acknowledged Urban, yet he, Anselm, must continue to acknowledge him and to yield him such obedience as was his due.[1160] To be allowed freely to do so must be one of the conditions of his accepting the archbishopric.

The King’s answer was unsatisfactory, but not openly hostile. The King’s counsellors; Count Robert and Bishop William. He was however beginning to be on his guard; he called to his side the two subtlest advisers that the Church and realm of England could supply. The one was Count Robert of Meulan, at home alike in England, Normandy, and France. The other was William Bishop of Durham, once the strong assertor of ecclesiastical claims, who had appealed to the Pope against the judgement of the King and his Witan. He had indeed both learned and forgotten something in his exile. The Bishop’s new policy. He had come back to be the special counsellor of Rufus, the special enemy of Anselm, the special assertor of the doctrine that it was for the King alone to judge as to the acknowledgement of Popes. The King, having listened to Anselm, sent for these two chosen advisers. He bade Anselm say over again in their hearing what he had before said privately. The King’s answer. He then, by their advice, answered that he would restore to the see everything that had been held by Lanfranc; on other points he would not as yet make any positive engagement.[1161]

The letters come from Normandy. Up to this time the King had not yet received his expected letters from Normandy. They presently came, and Rufus evidently thought that some step on his part ought to follow. He had asked the Duke, the Archbishop, and the monks of Bec, to set Anselm free to accept the archbishopric. They had done so at his request. Unless then he wished to make fools of himself and of everybody else, he could not help again offering the see to the man whom he had himself chosen, and who was now free to take it. He sent for Anselm to Windsor, where he now was; The King prays Anselm to take the archbishopric. he prayed him no longer to refuse the choice of the whole realm;[1162] but in so doing, he fell back somewhat from the one distinct promise which he had made at Rochester. When the estates of the see came into his hands on the death of Lanfranc, he had granted out parts of them on tenure of knight-service. He asks for the confirmation of grants made by him during the vacancy. These grants he asked Anselm, as a matter of friendship to himself, to allow.[1163] Was William merely seeking an excuse for backing altogether out of his offer of the archbishopric, or did he feel himself bound in honour to the men to whom he had made the grants? If so, his scruple of honour was met by Anselm’s scruple of conscience. Anselm refuses. Anselm would not be a party to any alienation of the goods of the Church; above all, he would not make any agreement about such matters before he was invested with any part of them.[1164] The point clearly is that so to do would be more than wasting the estates of the Church; it would be obtaining the archbishopric by a corrupt bargain. To agree to give up the estates of the see to the King’s grantees would be the same thing as obtaining the see by a bribe to the King. Anselm therefore refused to consent to the grants which the King had made during the vacancy. The whole matter thus came to a standstill. Rufus refused the investiture unless his grants were to stand good. Anselm went away rejoicing.

The whole case was set forth at length by Anselm in a letter to his friend Hugh Archbishop of Lyons, the head prelate of his native Burgundy.[1165] Anselm’s statement of the case. The alienation to which Anselm was asked to consent was called by the King a “voluntary justice,” a phrase which has a technical sound, but the meaning of which is not very clear.[1166] The King’s argument was that, before the Normans invaded England, the lands in question had been held of the archbishopric by English thegns, that those thegns had died without heirs, and that it was open to the King to give them what heirs he would.[1167] It was certainly strange, if, on the one hand, not one of these thegns had been constrained to make way for a Norman successor, and if, on the other hand, not one of them had left a son to succeed him. But we must take the fact as it is stated. Nature of the King’s grants. Rufus seems to mean that, during Lanfranc’s incumbency, the lands which these thegns had held of the see had fallen back to the lord for lack of heirs, and had become demesne lands of the archbishopric. The King asserts his right, during the vacancy of the see, to grant out such lands by knight-service, service to be paid of course to the King as long as the vacancy lasted, but seemingly to the Archbishop, as soon as there should be an archbishop in possession. If this was the argument, an argument which savours of the subtlety of Flambard, there is, from Flambard’s point of view, a good deal that is plausible about it. The King’s case. The King, as temporary lord, claims to deal with the land as any other lord might do, and, when his temporary lordship comes to an end, he calls on the incoming lord to respect his acts. The legal question would seem to be whether the new doctrine which gave the King the temporary profits of the archbishopric gave him any right to turn its demesne lands into fiefs. Anselm’s argument. Anselm’s argument seems to be that anyhow the possessions of the archbishopric were practically lessened, as they undoubtedly were. Experience showed that such a lordship as the see would keep over the lands so granted out would be both hard to enforce and of little value if enforced.[1168] Practically the grants were an alienation of the lands of the see. And to this Anselm could not consent. Open robbery from some quarter which owed no special duty to the archbishopric he might bear, and in such a case there would be more hope of gaining back what was lost by the help of the law.[1169] But for the King, the advocate of the see, and for himself, its guardian, to come to an agreement whereby the see would be damaged, was a thing to which Anselm would never consent.[1170] The King’s advocatio of the archbishopric. In this argument we hear the word advocate, the equivalent of the modern patron, in its elder sense. The advocatio, the advowson, of an ecclesiastical benefice carries with it, not only the right to name the incumbent of that benefice, but also the duty of acting as its protector.[1171] For the King, the advocate of the see of Canterbury, to do anything against its rights was a greater crime than if another man did the same. For the Archbishop to betray the rights of his church and his successors was a greater crime still. And if King and Archbishop agreed to any such spoliation, all other men would naturally hold that the act could not be questioned. On these grounds Anselm refused to consent to the King’s grants. He left the royal presence trusting that he was now free from the burthen of ecclesiastical rule in any shape. He had been set free from the abbatial rule of Bec; he had escaped being loaded with the primatial rule of Canterbury. He was, as he wished to be, a private man.[1172]

Public feeling since the nomination at Gloucester. But a private man Anselm was not to remain. After the scene in the sick room at Gloucester, neither William nor Anselm could act exactly as if that scene had never taken place. The momentary repentance of the King, and the acts done during the time of that repentance, had given a strength to public opinion which even William Rufus could not despise. The old abuses, the old oppressions, began again; but men were now less disposed to put up with them than they had been before. They would no longer go on without an archbishop, after an archbishop, and Anselm as that archbishop, had been more than promised, after he had been given to them. The general murmur became so loud that the King had to give way.[1173] He could no longer help giving the archbishopric to Anselm, and that on Anselm’s own terms. And what he did, he did in the most solemn and, as far as outward appearances went, the most thorough manner. Gemót at Winchester. An extraordinary Gemót of the kingdom—​for the season was neither Christmas, Easter, nor Pentecost—​was summoned to Winchester. The King renews his promises. In the presence of the assembled Witan, William Rufus, in full health, renewed the promises which he had made in his sickness. The wrongs done in his kingdom, above all, the wrongs done to the Church, were a second time to come to an end.[1174] Anselm receives the archbishopric, and does homage. Anselm was exhorted, and at last persuaded, to accept the archbishopric. He received it, seemingly without scruple, according to the ancient use of England; he became the man of the King.[1175] Anselm kneeling before Rufus, with his pure hands between the polluted hands of the King, pledging himself as the King’s man for all earthly worship, makes a scene which it is strange to think of.[1176] The deed was now done, and it could not be recalled. Bishop in the spiritual sense Anselm was not as yet; but he was the legal possessor of all the temporal estates and temporal jurisdiction of the see of Canterbury.

The King’s writ. The act which had just been done had now to be announced to the whole nation in the ancient form. The writ of King William went forth, announcing to all the King’s faithful men, French and English, that he had granted to Anselm the archbishopric of Canterbury, with all the rights, powers, and possessions—​rights, powers, and possessions, recited in the English tongue—​which belonged to the see, with all liberties over all his men, within boroughs and without. And words were added which seemed meant expressly to enforce Anselm’s view of the point last in dispute. The Archbishop’s thegns. The new archbishop was to have all these liberties over as many thegns as King Eadward the King’s kinsman had granted to the see of Christ Church. This can hardly mean anything except the annulling of the grants which the King had made during the vacancy.[1177] Anselm was to have all such temporal rights as had been lawfully held by Lanfranc, as had been before him unlawfully held by Stigand. Clauses in favour of the monks. The writ further contains provisions on behalf of the metropolitan monastery. The estates of the convent were distinct from those of the see; still, in such a time of unlaw, it is likely that some excuse had been found to do them some wrong also. To the monks of Christ Church therefore the King confirms all their rights and possessions, with all the tolls and dues from the haven of Sandwich; no man, French or English, should meddle with them or their servants.[1178] The city of Canterbury and abbey of Saint Alban’s. Our Canterbury guide speaks also of a renewed grant, on more favourable terms than before, of the city of Canterbury and of the abbey of Saint Alban’s.[1179] These possessions were at least not granted by the writ which announces the grant of the archbishopric. Anselm and Saint Alban’s. Of one of them the local patriotism of Saint Alban’s naturally knew nothing, though we hear of the friendship which Anselm showed to the house and to its abbot Paul. Death of Abbot Paul. 1093. This friendship could hardly have been shown in the character of archbishop, as Paul died during the year of Anselm’s appointment.[1180] And it is not wonderful that Anselm’s friendship for the abbey did not avail to save it from the usual fate. Vacancy of the abbey. For four years after the death of Paul, the church of Saint Alban remained without an abbot, while the King held the lands of the abbey, cut down its woods, and found many ingenious excuses, such as Flambard knew how to devise, for wringing money out of its tenants.[1181]

It would seem that, of the three points which had been insisted on by Anselm at Rochester, two were left out of sight in the public assembly at Winchester no less than in the private conference at Windsor. The question about the grants of the archiepiscopal lands was settled, at least in name and for the time, in favour of Anselm; The question as to the Pope left unsettled. but nothing was said either about William’s obligation to take Anselm as his spiritual guide or about the acknowledgement of Urban as Pope. The former of these two was in truth a matter for the King’s private conscience; it was hardly a matter to be discussed and legislated about in an assembly of the kingdom. And even the matter of the Pope did not touch Anselm’s conscience in exactly the same way as the question of the grants. If Anselm had allowed the grants, it would have been, in his view, an alienation of the rights of his see, and therefore a personal crime. But he might, without in any way giving up his position, receive the investiture No reference to the Pope in English episcopal appointments. without saying anything about the papal question at all. It was not yet held that the Bishop of Rome was entitled to any voice as to the election, investiture, or consecration, of any English bishop. In the case of a diocesan bishop, there was no need for any reference to the Pope at any stage; in the case of a metropolitan, the pallium had to be asked for; but it was not asked for till after consecration. Anselm had given fair warning to the King that he meant to acknowledge Urban. But at no stage of the business which had yet been reached was there any need for any formal acknowledgement of any Pope. Anselm might therefore fairly hold that his first warning was enough, and that he was not called upon to raise the question again, till the time came when it would be his duty to seek for the pallium from one Pope or the other. When that time came, he would be ready to do or suffer as the circumstances of that yet future day might dictate.

Order of episcopal appointments. Before the time for any dealings with Rome should come, there were still two more ceremonies to be done in England. The process of making a bishop was, then as now, a long one; but the order of the several stages was different then from what it now is. Anselm had done homage and had received restitution of the temporalities; but he was not yet enthroned, still less consecrated. The order then was, homage, enthronement, consecration. Opposite present practice. The present order is the exact opposite. The bishop-elect is consecrated; then he takes corporal possession of the see by enthronement; last of all, he does homage to the King and receives restitution of the temporalities. In the elder state of things the spiritual office was bestowed on one who was already full bishop for all temporal purposes. By the later rule the temporal rights are bestowed on one who is already full bishop for all spiritual purposes. Theories of the two systems. The difference in order seems to arise from the different theory of the episcopate which has prevailed since the restoration of ecclesiastical elections was fully established by the Great Charter. In the irregular practice of the eleventh century, the notion of investiture of a benefice by the king had come to the front. The king had in his hands a great fief, which he granted to whom he would; that fief was chargeable with certain spiritual duties. It was therefore for the Church, by her spiritual rite of consecration, to make the king’s nominee, already invested with his temporal rights, capable of discharging his spiritual duties. Such was clearly the established view of the days of Rufus, and the order of the process is in harmony with it. The office is treated as an appendage to the benefice. In the theory which is both earlier and later the benefice is treated as an appendage to the office. Present process. The order of the process is therefore reversed. The spiritual office is first filled by the three ecclesiastical processes of election, confirmation, consecration—​the last of course being needless when the person chosen is already a bishop. The bishop then takes personal possession of his church by installation or enthronement. The spiritual functions over, the bishop, now in full possession of his office, lastly receives the attached benefice by homage to the king and restitution of the temporalities at his hands. That elections were hardly ever really free at any time, that the royal leave was needed for the election, that kings recommended, that popes “provided,” that the later law requires the electors to choose only the king’s nominee and requires the metropolitan to confirm the person so chosen, makes no difference to the theory. The royal power is kept in the background; it is the ecclesiastical power which formally acts. The king’s hand pulls the wires of the ecclesiastical puppets; but the ecclesiastical puppets play their formal part. The whole is done according to a theory which naturally places the formal act of the temporal power last. In the days of Rufus the whole was done according to another theory which, as naturally, placed the formal act of the temporal power first of all.

The next stage then was for Anselm, still only a presbyter, but already invested with all the temporal powers and possessions of the archbishopric, to take personal possession of his see in the metropolitan church. It was the only time that such a rite was performed in the short eastern limb of the new church of Lanfranc. Anselm’s own later days were to see the removal of the patriarchal throne of Britain to be the centre of the more stately apse of Conrad, as later days saw it again removed to be the centre of the yet more stately apse of the two Williams. Enthronement of Anselm. September 25, 1093. On that throne, Anselm, chosen to be Pope of the island Empire, was placed on one of the later days of September in the presence of a rejoicing crowd of monks, clergy, and lay folk. Well might they rejoice; the Church had again a shepherd; the nation had again a defender. But even that day of joy did not pass without signs that the favour of the temporal lord of the island Empire was already turned away from its new pontiff. The King’s sense of personal honour required him to carry out the promise made at Gloucester, to allow, even to compel, Anselm to become archbishop. But he had no sense of Christian or kingly duty to keep him from insulting and harassing the man whom he had promoted, or to constrain him to keep the promises contained in his own proclamation. Those things had not been done in the character of probus miles, of knight and gentleman. It was quite consistent with chivalrous honour to send Flambard to disturb the joyful day of enthronement Flambard brings a suit against Anselm on the day of enthronement. by the announcement of a hostile suit against the new archbishop. We are not told what was its exact nature, only that it was something which, in the eyes of strict churchmen at least, wholly concerned the affairs of the Church, and with which the King’s court had nothing to do.[1182] In the older days of England such a distinction could hardly have been drawn; after the separation of the jurisdictions under the Conqueror, it may have been fair enough. Whatever the actual matter in dispute was, we can understand the general indignation at the choice of such a moment for the serving of the notice, at the malice which would not let even the first day of the Primate’s new dignity pass unmolested. We can also easily picture to ourselves the fierce swagger of Flambard, graphically as it is set before us.[1183] And we can listen also to the mild grief of Anselm, inferring from such treatment on the first day of his primacy what the troubles of his future life were likely to be.[1184]

Other events of the year. After the enthronement more than two months still passed before the final rite of consecration admitted Anselm to the fulness of his spiritual office. They were months of no small moment in the history of Britain. They beheld the last invasion of Malcolm, his death,[1185] the death of his saintly wife, the uprising of Scottish nationality against the foreign innovations or reforms which Malcolm and Margaret represented in the eyes of their native subjects. The affairs of Scotland, of Consecration of Anselm at Canterbury. December 4, 1093.Wales, of Normandy, were all on the Red King’s mind at the same moment, as well as the affairs of Anselm. But it is these last that we have to follow for the present. Early in December, on the second Sunday in Advent, the more part of the bishops of England came together at Canterbury for the consecration of the new metropolitan. At their head was the Archbishop of York, Thomas of Bayeux. Thomas of York. It was the privilege of his see—​so the loyal historian of the church of York takes care that we should know—​when Canterbury was without an archbishop, to consecrate bishops and to put the crown on the king’s head within the vacant province.[1186] Whether the one available suffragan of the northern province came along with Thomas, in the form of William of Durham, we are not distinctly told. Other bishops present. But of the bishops of the province of Canterbury eight must have been there. Robert Bloet was the elect of Lincoln; but he, like Anselm, was himself awaiting consecration. Of the rest three were absent, and among those three were the only two Absence of Herbert, who were English either by birth or by adoption, the two whom we could have most wished to have a share in the work. Herbert of Thetford must now have been on his penitential journey to Rome or on his way back.[1187] The holy Wulfstan, the one Englishman by descent Wulfstan, as well as by birth who was left among the bishops of England, the only one who had been a bishop in the old days of King Eadward, was still in the land, but was kept away by age or sickness. So was and Osbern. Osbern of Exeter, the only one of the foreign stock who had thoroughly made himself an Englishman by adoption. These two sent letters of consent instead of their personal presence.[1188] The others gathered round the high altar of Lanfranc’s rearing at Christ Church. Most of them are men with whose names we are familiar; Maurice of London, Walkelin of Winchester, Gundulf of Rochester, Osmund of Salisbury, Robert of Hereford, John who had moved from Wells to Bath, Robert of Lichfield or of Chester, who had moved in a fiercer sort to Earl Leofric’s Coventry. All of them, whatever they were in other ways, were mighty builders. If William of Durham, whose church had just begun to rise on the height above the Wear,[1189] was really in their company, there was indeed the master-builder of all, whose heart might already swell to think how the work which he had begun would surpass the work of Lanfranc under whose roof they were met. These eight came together in the new metropolitan church to perform the rite which should make Anselm at once their brother and their father.

But, before the rite could be gone through, an old question was stirred again, by no means for the last time. The leader of the episcopal band was fully minded that the rank to which they were about to admit the prelate elect should be clearly defined. Position of Thomas. Thomas of York had doubtless not forgotten the day when he had himself gone away unconsecrated from the spot where they were now met, because he could not bring himself to make such a submission to the higher dignity of Canterbury as Anselm’s predecessor had required of him.[1190] He now had his opportunity of raising his voice with greater success on behalf of the dignity of his own church. Before the consecrating prelates went on to the examination of the bishop-elect, it was the business of the Bishop of London to read the formal document declaring the cause why they had come together.[1191] Bishop Maurice handed over this duty to the Bishop of Winchester. Walkelin began to read how the church of Canterbury, the metropolitan church of all Britain, was widowed of its pastor. Thomas objects to the description of Anselm as “Metropolitan of Britain.” The Archbishop of York stopped him; “Metropolitan church of all Britain? Then the church of York, which all men know to be a metropolitan church, is not metropolitan. We all know that the church of Canterbury is the primatial church of all Britain; metropolitan church of all Britain it is not.”[1192] This was not a distinction without a difference. To allow the claim of Canterbury to be the metropolitan church of all Britain would have been to admit that the church of York was a mere suffragan see of Canterbury. The other form simply asserted the precedency of Canterbury as the higher in rank of the two metropolitan sees of Britain. So Anselm’s correspondent at Lyons was Primate of all the Gauls, without endangering the metropolitan rank of Rheims and Rouen. But William the Good Soul would have been stirred to wrath had it been hinted that Lyons was the metropolitan church of all Gaul, and Rouen simply its suffragan. A zealot for His objection admitted. the rights of Canterbury admits that the objection of Thomas was a good one.[1193] The wording of the document was at once changed;[1194] Anselm’s consecration. the rite went on, and Anselm was consecrated as Archbishop of Canterbury and Primate of all Britain. If the more northern suffragans of York had any objections to make, they were just then less likely than ever to be at Canterbury to make them.

The position of the newly-consecrated Primate within his own island was thus settled to the satisfaction of the man who thought that he had a special interest in the matter. Question of acknowledging the Pope. It was perhaps more difficult to settle his relation to the ecclesiastical powers beyond his own island. Anselm had warned the King that, if he became archbishop, he must yield obedience to Urban. But, as the King had not acknowledged Urban, it would have been deemed unlawful to speak of Urban as Pope in any public act. The difficulty seems to have been got over by Anselm making a profession of obedience to the Roman Church, without mentioning the name of any particular pontiff.[1195] Thus passed the day of the consecration; Thomas claims jurisdiction over Lincoln. but, on the morrow, Thomas of York, successful thus far, found yet another point to assert on behalf of the alleged rights of his church. He had, it will be remembered, striven to hinder Remigius from transferring the see of Dorchester to a spot which he deemed to be in his own province and diocese.[1196] Since that time, notwithstanding his remonstrances, the minster of Lincoln had arisen; but it remained unconsecrated, and its builder was dead. To the mind of Thomas these facts perhaps seemed to be signs as clear in their meaning as any which the Bishop of Hereford would find out from the lore of the stars.[1197] Thus emboldened, on the day after he had consecrated Anselm to the see of Canterbury, Thomas warned the new Primate against proceeding, as he had purposed, to consecrate Robert Bloet to the see of Lincoln. He might consecrate him, if he would, to the ancient see of Dorchester; but not to Lincoln or to any other place in that land of Lindesey which belonged to the jurisdiction of York.[1198] Robert Bloet’s consecration delayed. Anselm seems to have yielded; at least the matter remained unsettled, and the elect of Lincoln remained unconsecrated for two months longer.

Anselm now, after so many difficulties, was at last fully Archbishop. He remained in his metropolis for eight days only after his consecration. Christmas Gemót at Gloucester. 1093–1094. He then set forth for the Christmas Assembly of the realm, to be held at Gloucester.[1199] The prayer which he had drawn up at the assembly held there twelve months before had indeed been answered. The King’s heart had been stirred; the Archbishop had been appointed. Unhappily also the King’s heart had been stirred back again. William was again the king who had mockingly bidden his bishops to pray as they thought good, not the king who had passionately called on Anselm to step in between him and eternal death. The breach between King and Primate had begun before Anselm was fully Primate, when Flambard had insolently summoned him in his own church on the day of his enthronement. Whatever the matter of the summons was, Anselm was now ready in the King’s court to answer it. But of that dispute we hear no more. The Archbishop came to Gloucester, and was courteously and cheerfully received, Anselm received by the King. not only by the assembled nobles, but by the King himself.[1200] But the Witan were not to depart from the place of meeting till new grounds of quarrel had arisen between the two unequal yokefellows who were at last fully coupled together.

§ 3. The Assembly at Hastings and the Second Norman Campaign.
1094.

Events of the year 1094.The events of the year on which we have now entered consist partly of warlike movements in Normandy and Scotland, partly of matters directly touching ecclesiastical questions, above all touching Anselm. Of these, the affairs of Scotland and the affairs of Anselm have hardly any bearing on one another. Affairs of Normandy; their connexion with Anselm. But the affairs of Normandy and the affairs of Anselm have a close connexion. They were discussed in the same assemblies; and one ground of quarrel between King and Primate arose directly out of the discussion of Norman affairs. Some of the details of the two stories are so mixed up with one another that it would be hard to keep them apart. Again, the Scottish warfare of this year is part of a continuous series of Scottish events spread over several years. But the Norman warfare is a kind of episode. It is connected by the laws of cause and effect with things which went before and with things which came after; but, as a story, it stands by itself or is mixed up with the story of Anselm. It cannot be dealt with, like the King’s first Norman war, as a distinct chapter of our history. It will therefore be better, during the year which follows the consecration of Anselm, to keep Scottish affairs apart from the history of the ecclesiastical dispute, but to treat the Norman campaign as something filling up part of the time between two great stages in Anselm’s history.

Robert’s challenge of William. 1093–1094. The chief business of the assembly which now met at Gloucester was the reception of a hostile message from the Duke of the Normans. This fact makes us wish to know more in detail what Count William of Eu had suggested, and what King William of England had done. It is certain that King William needed no pressing to make him inclined for another attempt on his brother’s dominions; but it is clear that the coming of Count William had led to some special action which had given Duke Robert special ground of complaint. The Norman embassy came, and challenged one brother in the name of the other, almost as an earlier Norman embassy had challenged Harold in the name of the father of both of them.[1201] Form of the message. The diplomacy of those days was clear and outspoken. The bodes of Duke Robert seem to have spoken to King William in the midst of his Witan, much as the bodes of the Athenian commonwealth spoke, with a greater amount of personal deference, to King Philip on his throne. They told the King of the English that their master renounced all peace and treaty with him, unless he would do all that was set down in the treaty; they declared him forsworn and truthless, unless he would hold to the treaty, or would go and clear himself at the place where the treaty had been made and sworn to.[1202] Such a message as this was hardly wise in Robert, whatever it might have been in a prince who had the resources of his dominions more thoroughly at his command. It was in some sort an appeal to arbitration; but it was put in a shape which was sure to bring on war. War decreed. William had no doubt made up his mind for a Norman enterprise in any case; the message of Robert would really help him by turning a certain amount of public feeling to his side. An expedition was decreed; Normandy was to be a second time invaded by the Red King.

And now came the question how ways and means were to be found for the new war. That some of the ways and means which were employed were unworthy of all kingly dignity[1203] is not wonderful in this reign. But the only one of which we distinctly hear seems in itself less unworthy than some others, though the particular form which it took is eminently characteristic of Rufus. The great men who had come together to the assembly made presents to the King, forerunners of the benevolences of later times. Contributions collected for the war. The great men of Normandy had, twenty-eight years before, made contributions of ships for the invasion of England.[1204] Now the great men of England, some of them the same persons, made contributions of money for the invasion of Normandy. This was at least less unworthy of the kingly dignity than some of the tricks by which Flambard wrung money out of more helpless victims. But the Red King’s way of dealing with such gifts shows the mixture of greed and pride which stands out in all his doings. If the sum offered was less than he thought it ought to be, he cast it aside with scorn; nor would he ever again admit the offerer to his friendship, unless he made amends by a second offer of such a sum as the King might think becoming.[1205] Anselm unwilling to contribute. To this custom Anselm now conformed, with the other nobles and prelates; but it was with some pains that his friends persuaded him to conform to it.[1206] With his usual fear of being misconstrued, he dreaded that if, so soon after his consecration, he gave the King any sum which the King would think worth taking, it might have the air of a simoniacal bargain.[1207] He might also hold that the goods of the Church ought not to be applied to worldly, least of all to warlike, uses; he might even feel some scruple in helping towards a war against a prince who had so lately been his own worldly lord. But he was won over by the argument that a gift in season might win the King’s favour for ever, and that he might be allowed to give his mind with less disturbance to the spiritual duties of his office.[1208] He gives five hundred pounds. He brought himself therefore to offer the King five hundred pounds of silver. William was satisfied with the amount, and received the gift with courteous thanks.[1209]

William persuaded to refuse the money. What followed showed that William Rufus had counsellors about him who were worse than himself, or who at any rate were not ashamed to play upon the worst parts of his character to obtain their own ends. In this case they are nameless. Are we to fill up the blank with the names of the Bishop of Durham and the Count of Meulan? Or is it safer to lay any evil deed the doer of which is not recorded on the broad back of Randolf Flambard? At any rate, some malignant persons, whoever they were, came about the King, and persuaded him that the gift of the Archbishop was a contemptible sum which he ought to reject. One whom he had exalted and enriched above the other great men of England ought, in such need as that in which the King found himself, to have given him two thousand pounds, or one thousand at the very least. To offer so little as five hundred was mere mockery. Let the King wait a little, let him change his face towards the Archbishop, and Anselm would presently come, delighted to win back the King’s favour with the gift of five hundred pounds more.[1210] Thus the Primate’s enemies, whoever they were, sought to frighten him, and to get more money out of him for the King’s use. But their schemes were disappointed.[1211] Anselm was presently surprised by a message to say that the King refused his gift—​the gift which he had already cheerfully accepted.[1212] Anselm prays Rufus to take the money. He then sought an audience, and asked the King whether such a message was really of his sending. Some tyrants might have seen in this question an escape from a difficulty. It would have been easy for Rufus to have denied his own act; but his pride was up, and direct lying was never in his vein. He avowed his message. Then Anselm prayed him not to refuse his gift; it was the first that he had offered; it should not be the last. It would be better for the King to receive a smaller sum from him as a friend, than to wring a larger sum from him as a slave.[1213] Of the alternative of increasing the amount of the gift he said not a word. One motive was that he could not raise a greater sum without doing wrong to his tenants—​the wrong which he had declared Ælfheah to be a true martyr for refusing to do.[1214] Rufus refuses it.The King was now in the mood for short and wrathful speeches. “Keep your money and your jaw to yourself; I have enough of my own. Get you gone.”[1215] Anselm obeyed, remembering that at his enthronement the Gospel had been read which said that no man could serve two masters. He rejoiced that no one now could deem that he had been guilty of any corrupt bargain with the King. Yet he tried once more through messengers to persuade the King to take his gift, but, as he steadily refused to double it, it was still thrust aside with scorn. The assembly broke up; the Archbishop, still in the King’s disfavour, went away, and the money which the King had despised was given to the poor.

This business over, Anselm had now a few weeks, but a few weeks only, to give to his immediate pastoral work. Even those weeks were disturbed by a dispute with one of his suffragans. Dispute with the Bishop of London. The point at issue was the right of the Archbishop to consecrate churches and do other episcopal acts in such of his manors as were locally in other dioceses. This right was denied by Bishop Maurice of London, who sent two of his canons to forbid the Archbishop to consecrate the newly built church of Harrow.[1216] The matter was settled by an appeal to one who knew the ancient laws of England better than either Maurice or Anselm. Judgement of Wulfstan. Wulfstan of Worcester, now “one and alone of the ancient fathers of the English,” wrote back his judgement in favour of the Primate’s right.[1217] The question was thus decided; Maurice did not dare to set up his judgement on such a matter against that of the venerable saint, the relic of a state of things which had passed away.[1218]

Those of the great men of England who had come to the Gemót at Gloucester from the more distant parts of the kingdom could hardly have reached their homes when they were again summoned to give the King the benefit of their counsels. William Rufus was so strong upon his throne that in his days assemblies were sure to be frequent. He was moreover planning a campaign beyond the sea, so that it was very doubtful whether he would be able this year to wear his crown in England at the usual times of Easter and Pentecost. Assembly at Hastings. February 2, 1094. The Easter Gemót was therefore in some sort forestalled. As the starting-point for his second invasion of Normandy the King had chosen the spot which had been his father’s head-quarters in the great invasion of England. At Pevensey he had once beaten back the invasion of his Norman brother; at Hastings he now gathered the force which was for the second time to avenge that wrong. The chief men of England were again brought together. We may perhaps see in this assembly a case of the military Gemót. Anselm and several other bishops were there; but it is said that their presence was required to give their blessing to the King and his army before they crossed the sea.[1219] The fleet delayed by the wind. But that final blessing could not be given till many weeks after the army or assembly first came together. When the younger William sought to invade Normandy, he was kept lingering at Hastings, as the elder William had been kept lingering at Saint Valery when he sought to invade England. For six weeks the north wind refused to blow. While thus kept back from warfare, the King seems to have amused himself with ecclesiastical business and ecclesiastical ceremonies, and he further brought on himself the sharpest of ecclesiastical rebukes.[1220]

But one of the ceremonies which filled up the time of enforced leisure must have been something more than a matter of amusement to William the Red. Whatever traces of good feeling lingered in his heart gathered round the memory of his parents. And he was now called on to join in a rite which was the crowning homage to his father’s name, the most speaking memorial of his father’s victory and his father’s bounty. Again was a William encamped at Hastings called on to make his way to the hill of Senlac. But this time he could make his way thither in peaceful guise. The The Abbey of Battle. place was no longer a wilderness or a camp, no longer the hill of the hoar apple-tree, no longer bristling with the thickset lines of battle, no longer heaped with the corpses of the conquerors and the conquered. The height which had once been fenced in by the palisade of the English host was now fenced in by the precinct wall of a vast monastery; its buildings, overhanging the hill side, covered the spot where Gyrth had fallen by the hand of William;[1221] its church, fresh from the hands of the craftsman, covered the ground which had beheld the last act of the day of slaughter; its high altar, blazing doubtless with all the skill of Otto and Theodoric,[1222] marked the spot where Harold, struck by the bolt from heaven, had fallen between the Dragon and the Standard. Completion of the building. After so many years had passed since the Conqueror had bidden that the memorial of the Conquest should rise on that spot and on no other, the minster of Saint Martin of the Place of Battle stood ready for consecration. Moved by the prayer of Abbot Gausbert, prompted too by his own reverence for the memory and the bidding of his father, William the younger bade that his father’s church should at once be hallowed in his own presence.[1223] Consecration of the church. February 11, 1094. On a Saturday then in the month of February, in the twenty-eighth year since the awful Saturday of Saint Calixtus, the two who were so unequally yoked together to draw the plough of the Church of England made their way to the place of Battle. A crowd of nobles and commons came together to the sight; and with them, besides the Primate, were seven Bishops present; Ralph of Coutances. bishops of three different provinces. There was Ralph of Chichester, bishop of the diocese, whose jurisdiction within the favoured abbey was so zealously denied by every monk of Battle.[1224] There were Walkelin of Winchester, Osmund of Salisbury, John of Bath, and Gundulf of Rochester. There was the Primate’s great northern enemy, William of Durham. And there too was a suffragan of Rouen, the immediate successor of one of the fierce prelates who had blessed the Conqueror’s host on the morning of the great battle.[1225] Death of Geoffrey Bishop of Coutances. February 3, 1093. Geoffrey of Mowbray, Bishop and once Earl, had died a year before, and the episcopal chair of Coutances was now filled by his successor Ralph.[1226] How, it may be asked, came a Norman bishop in the court, almost in the army, of a king who was about to invade Normandy? The answer is easy. The Côtentin was now again in the hands of Henry,[1227] and the presence of its bishop at the court of William was a sign of the good understanding which now reigned between the two younger sons of the Conqueror. William and Anselm at Battle. But on such a day as this all interest gathers round the two main figures in the assembly, the two of highest rank in their several orders. William the Red, strange assistant in any religious rite, seems less out of place than usual as assistant in the rite which was to dedicate the work of his father. And if prayers and offerings were to go up on that spot for those who had fallen there on the defeated as well as on the victorious side, there was no mouth in which we should more gladly put them than in the mouth of him who was the chief celebrant on that day. Anselm, standing at the head of his foreign suffragans—​English Wulfstan stood not by him—​before the altar of Saint Martin of the Place of Battle, seemed like a representative of universal Christendom, of universal peace and love. The holy man from Aosta sang his mass in honour of the holy man of Tours. And he sang it on the spot where Harold of England had stood by his standard in the morning, where William of Normandy had held the feast of victory in the evening, the morning and evening of the most memorable day in the history of our island since England became one kingdom.

The King at Hastings. From the hill of Battle William went back to the hill of Hastings, now crowned by the castle into which the hasty fortress of his father had grown.[1228] William of Saint-Calais. Six years earlier the Bishop of Durham, charged with treason, had in answer, pleaded that he had kept Hastings and its castle in the King’s obedience.[1229] Notwithstanding that answer, he had been banished; he had been recalled, and he now stood, with all his former authority, chief counsellor of the King, chief enemy of the Archbishop. Consecration of Robert Bloet to Lincoln. February 12, 1094. On the morrow of the dedication of Saint Martin’s, William of Saint-Calais joined with Anselm in the long-delayed consecration of the elect of Lincoln. The rite was done in the church of Our Lady within the castle of Hastings, by the hands of the same prelates who had the day before dedicated the church of Battle. It was to the see of Lincoln, not to the see of Dorchester, that Robert Bloet was consecrated. Thomas of Bayeux was not there to repeat his protest. He would have been there in vain. The bishop-elect had, in the course of his chancellorship, got together the means of settling such questions. His bishopric, granted at the time of the King’s repentance, had cost him nothing. It was now a matter of regret with Rufus that it had cost him nothing; Robert had therefore to pay all the more for the establishment of the rights of his see. Robert’s gift to the King. One who had the means of knowing says that he gave the King the great sum of five thousand pounds to decide the cause in favour of Lincoln.[1230] This was done, the York writer complains, without the consent of the Archbishop of York and without the knowledge of his chapter.[1231] The case must have been settled either at Gloucester or now at Hastings. It was most likely at Hastings, as we can hardly fancy Thomas keeping away from the great Christmas gathering. Our Canterbury guide tells us a not very intelligible story which may show us how the claim of Thomas was spoken of in the southern metropolis. The cause of York had found at least professing friends among the great men at Hastings, though it met with no favour from the King himself. Plot against Anselm. Not knowing perhaps with what weighty arguments the elect of Lincoln had proved his case, certain unnamed bishops and lords deemed that they would please the King by anything which could annoy or discredit Anselm. They therefore insidiously tried to persuade the Archbishop to consecrate Robert without his making due profession to the church of Canterbury.[1232] Anselm stood firm. The King, when he heard of the plot, took to his magnanimous vein. His personal quarrel with Anselm should never lead him to do anything against the dignity of the Church of Canterbury his mother.[1233] The King and Flambard perhaps enjoyed the joke together. But Robert Bloet made the needful profession, and was consecrated as Bishop of Lincoln by Anselm and the assembled prelates. Compromise with York. The controversy with York was at last formally settled, by a compromise which was announced in a royal charter. By this the Archbishop of York accepted the patronage of the new abbey of Selby in his own diocese, and that of the church of Saint Oswald at Worcester—​the city and diocese so long connected with York—​in exchange for his claims over Lindesey.[1234] The isle and city of Lindum has ever since remained an undisputed member of the southern province.

Character of Robert Bloet. The new Bishop of Lincoln, the first prelate consecrated to that see, has left a doubtful character behind him. He held his bishopric for thirty years, living on far into the reign of Henry, and keeping the royal favour till just before his death. His offices. Chancellor under both Williams, he, as usual, resigned that post on his consecration; but under Henry he ruled with great power in the higher office of Justiciar.[1235] Bountiful in his gifts to his see and to his church, the number of whose prebends he doubled, splendid and liberal in his manner of life, bountiful to the poor, winning the hearts of all around him, not himself a scholar, but a promoter of scholars, skilful in worldly business of every kind, he does not show us the best, but neither does he show us the worst type of the prelates of his day. He was charged with looseness of life; but his chief accuser found it wise to strike out the charge, and his son Simon, Dean of his own church, was born while he was Chancellor to the Conqueror, quite possibly in lawful wedlock. His death. 1123. His last days form a striking incident in the next reign; here he chiefly concerns us as being in some sort, however strangely, bracketted with Anselm, as the other bishop whom the Red King named during his short time of repentance.[1236] Local legends about him. Anyhow it was hard on him to tell in after days how his ghost hindered anybody from praying or giving alms near his tomb in the minster, and that only because he removed the monks of Stow to Eynsham, because he subjected his see to the gift of a precious mantle to the King, or because he agreed to the wise measure which lessened the extent of his vast diocese.

Return of Herbert of Thetford. Another bishop appeared at this gathering, whose coming was, for the time, less lucky for himself than that of Robert Bloet. Herbert of Thetford, struck with penitence for his simoniacal bargain, had, as it will be remembered, gone beyond sea on an errand which of all others was most offensive to the King. He had gone to receive again from the Pope—​doubtless from Urban—​the bishopric which he had already bought of the King.[1237] He is deprived by the King. For this offence William now took away his staff; that is, he deprived him of his bishopric. With whose advice or consent this was done, and what line Anselm took with regard to such a step, we are not told. At all events the King now deprived a bishop of his office on the ground of what he deemed to be treason done without the realm. This was the converse of the act by which, forty-two years before, the nation had deprived another bishop on the ground of what they deemed to be treason within the realm.[1238] William however did not set up any doubtful Stigand of his own in the church of Thetford. About a year later Herbert was again in possession of his see.[1239] How he was restored to the King’s favour we are not told. He may have deemed it no sin to win it by means which he had learned to look upon as sin when applied to the obtaining of a spiritual office. Next year he removed the seat of the East-Anglian bishopric once more. Herfast had moved it from Elmham to Thetford. With the good will and help of Roger Bigod Herbert now translated it to its final seat at Norwich. He there began the foundation of that vast church and monastery, the creation of which caused his name to be ever since held in at least local honour.

Meanwhile the north wind still refused to blow, and the King with his prelates, lords, and courtiers, still tarried at Hastings. Lent, 1094. Lent began before the fleet had a chance of sailing. The penitential season began with the usual ceremonies. The Archbishop said his mass and preached his sermon in the ears of the multitude who came together on the day of ashes, to receive, according to custom, the ashes of penitence from the hands of the Primate. Among them came the minions and young gallants of the court of Rufus, with their long combed and twined hair, their mincing gait, defying alike the commands of the Apostle and the dictates of common decency and manliness. Anselm rebukes the minions. The voice of Anselm rebuked them, as well he might, when the outward garb was but the sign of the deeper foulness within. Not a few were moved to repentance; they submitted to the loss of their flowing locks, and put on again the form of men.[1240] Others were stubborn; they received neither ashes nor absolution. In this battle with a foolish custom which was in truth far more than a foolish custom, Anselm had not a few forerunners or followers. Saint Wulfstan, Gundulf, Serlo of Seez, all preached and acted vigorously against the long hair which was the symbol of the crying vice of the time.[1241] Anselm deemed that the evil called for something more than a single act of discipline. The man of God felt called on to strike at the root of the mischief; he was moved to make a warning appeal to the conscience, if any conscience was left, of the chief sinner of them all, and he made it, after his wont, at once gently and vigorously.

We may guess that the King had not been present at the ceremonies of Ash-Wednesday; had he been there, his presence would surely have been dwelled upon. It seems that Anselm, though openly out of the King’s favour, still visited him from time to time. Anselm’s interview with the King. One day therefore he went and sat down beside him, and spoke what was in his heart.[1242] The King was setting forth to conquer Normandy. His silence about the war. It is to be noticed that Anselm does not say a word as to the right or wrong of the war. Perhaps, after the challenge of Robert, the cause of Rufus may have seemed, even to him, to be technically just. Perhaps he knew that anything that could be said on that subject would be fruitless. He may even have deemed, a view which had much to be said for it, that a conquest of Normandy by the Red King would be a good exchange for the rule of its present sovereign. And we must remember that wars of all kinds were in those days so constantly going on that they would seem like a necessary evil, a dark side of the economy of things, but one which could not be hindered. Even men like Anselm would come to look with less horror than one might expect on wars which were waged only by those whose whole business might seem to be warfare. Anyhow Anselm said nothing directly against the war, even though it was to be waged against the prince to whom he had lately owed allegiance and against the land which had been to him a second birth-place. He asks for help in his reforms. But he asked the King whether he had any right to look for success in that or any other enterprise, unless he did something to check the evils which had well nigh uprooted the religion of Christ in his realm. He called on William to give him the help of the royal authority in his own schemes of reform. The King asked what form his help was to take,[1243] and Anselm then put forth his views at length.

He asks leave to hold a synod. First and foremost, the King was to help in the work of reform by allowing Anselm to hold a synod of the realm. It will be remembered that, by the laws of the Conqueror, no synod could be held without the King’s licence, and the acts of the synod were of no force without the King’s confirmation.[1244] But under the Conqueror Lanfranc had, on the conditions thus laid down, held his synods without hindrance. That is to say, the elder William, in all causes and over all persons within his dominions supreme, used that supremacy as the chief ruler of the Church from within, while the younger William turned that same supremacy into a weapon wherewith to assault the Church as an enemy from without. It is plain from the earnestness of Anselm one way—​one might almost say, from the earnestness of Rufus the other way—​that the synod was a real instrument for the reformation of manners. Advantages of the synod. It is plain that the assembled bishops, when they came together in a body, could do more both for ecclesiastical discipline and for moral improvement than they could do, each one in his own diocese. One cause may have been that, in a synod, the assembled prelates might seem to be really speaking as fathers in God, while the exercise of their local jurisdiction was too much mixed up with the petty and not always creditable details of their courts, with those tricks and extortions of archdeacons and other officials of which we have often heard. Anyhow, as the Roman Senate had good enough left in it to call forth the hatred of Nero, so an ecclesiastical synod had good enough left in it to call forth the hatred of William Rufus. No synod held under Rufus. Not one synod had he allowed to be held during the whole time of his reign, now in its seventh year.[1245] Anselm earnestly prayed to be allowed to hold one for the restoration of discipline and the reformation of manners. The King answered; “I will see to this matter when I think good; I will act, not after your pleasure but after my own. And, pray,” added he mockingly, “when you have got your synod, what will you talk about in it?” Anselm’s appeal against the fashionable vices. The man of God did not shrink from going straight to the crying evil of the time. What weighed most on Anselm’s mind was not any mere breach of ecclesiastical rule—​such breaches he had to speak of, but he would not speak of them first;[1246] the burthen on his soul was the hideous moral corruption, a new thing on English ground, which had become rife throughout the land. Unless King and Primate, each in his own sphere, each with his own weapons, worked together to root out this plague, the kingdom of England might share the fate of the cities which it had come to resemble. A strict law was needed, the very hearing of which would make the guilty tremble.[1247] The words of Anselm were general; there was no personal charge against William; the Archbishop simply appealed to him as King to stop the sins of others. But all this makes us feel more strongly the wonderful character of such a scene, where two such men could be sitting side by side and exchanging their thoughts freely. But the heart of Rufus was hardened; he answered only by a sneer. “And what may come of this matter for you?” “For me nothing,” said Anselm; “for you and for God I hope much.”[1248]

There is so much of simple moral grandeur in this appeal of the righteous man against moral evil that we might almost have wished that Anselm’s discourse had ended at this point, and that he had not gone on to speak of matters which to us seem to have less of a moral and more of a technical nature. Ecclesiastical grievances. Yet Anselm would doubtless have thought himself faithless to his duty, if he had left the King’s presence without making a special appeal about the special grievances of ecclesiastical bodies. Moreover the wrongs of the bishoprics and abbeys were distinctly moral wrongs; the King’s doings involved breach of law, breach of trust; they were grievances on which the head of the ecclesiastical order was, as such, specially bound to enlarge. Wrongs of the church tenants. But they were also grievances which did not touch the ecclesiastical order only; the wrongs done to the tenants of the vacant churches are constantly dwelled on as one of the worst features of the system brought in by Rufus and Flambard. Anselm therefore deemed it his duty, before he parted from the King, to say a word on this matter also, a matter in which there could be no doubt that the King himself was the chief sinner. No bishopric was now vacant; but several abbeys, Saint Alban’s among them, were in the hands of Flambard. He prays the King to fill the vacant abbeys. Such a state of things called for his own care as Primate; he appealed to William to give him his help as King. In the monasteries which were left without rulers discipline became lax; the monks fell into evil courses; they died without confession. He prayed the King to allow the appointment of abbots to the vacant churches, lest he should draw on himself the judgement which must follow on the evils to which their vacancies gave cause.[1249] The King seems to have been less able to endure this rebuke than the other. The disorders of his courtiers and of his own private life he could not defend on any showing; but the demand that the abbeys should be filled touched what he looked on as one of his royal rights. Rufus burst forth in wrath. “Are not the abbeys mine? The abbeys in what sense the King’s. Tush, you do as you choose with your manors; shall not I do as I choose with my abbeys?”[1250] The answer of Anselm drew a distinction which was a very practical one in those days, and which affects our legal language still. To this day the King, the Bishop, the Chapter, all speak of any episcopal see as “our cathedral church,” and all speak, from their several points of view, with equal truth. Such a church is the king’s church by virtue of the fundatorial rights which he claims, in some cases by real historic succession, in all cases by a legal theory. By virtue of those fundatorial rights, he claims to be informed of every vacancy, and to give his consent to a new election. In this sense Anselm did not deny that the abbeys were the King’s abbeys; he did deny that they were the King’s in the further sense in which Rufus claimed them. “The abbeys are yours,” he said, “to defend and guard as an advocate; they are not yours to spoil and lay waste. They are God’s; they are given that his servants may live of them, not that you may make campaigns and battles at their cost.[1251] You have manors and revenues of many kinds, out of which you may carry on all that belongs to you. Leave, may it please you, the churches to have their own.” Hostile answer of Rufus. “Truly,” says the King, “you know that what you say is most unpleasing to me. Your predecessor would never have dared to speak so to my father. I will do nothing on your account.” When Anselm then saw that he was casting his words to the winds,[1252] he rose and went his way.

Lanfranc and Anselm. It may be that William Rufus spoke truly, and that Lanfranc would not, in any case, have dared to speak to the Conqueror as Anselm dared to speak to him. Lanfranc, with much that was great and good in him, was not a prophet of righteousness like Anselm. But it is far more certain that Lanfranc was never put to the test. The Conqueror never gave him any need to speak to him as Anselm had now need to speak to his son. What we blame in William the Great, what men like Wimund of Saint Leutfred dared to blame in him, Lanfranc could not blame. The position of Lanfranc in England involved the position of William. And, once granting that position, there was comparatively little to blame in the elder William. The beheading of Waltheof, the making of the New Forest, stand almost alone; and the beheading of Waltheof was at least no private murder; it was the judgement of what was in form a competent court. The harshness and greediness with which the Conqueror is justly charged was, after all, a small matter compared with the utter unlaw of his son’s reign. No need to rebuke the Conqueror on these points. And on the two subjects of Anselm’s present discourse, the elder William needed no rebuke at any time. His private life was at all times absolutely blameless, and, neither as Duke nor as King, did he ever turn his ecclesiastical supremacy into a source of gain. On both those points Lanfranc had as good a right to speak as Anselm; but on those points he was never called on to speak to his own master. Whether, in Anselm’s place, he would Estimate of Anselm’s conduct. have dared to speak as Anselm did, we cannot tell. But surely the holy boldness of Anselm cannot be looked on as in any way blameworthy, as either insolent or untimed. To him at least the time doubtless seemed most fitting. He called on the King, before he exposed himself to the dangers of a campaign beyond the sea, to do something to win God’s favour by correcting the two grossest of the evils which were rife in his kingdom. The Assembly was clearly not dissolved when Anselm spoke; William could at once have filled the abbeys, he could at once have put forth a law against the other class of offenders, in the most regular form, by the advice of his Wise Men. Anselm might even have held his synod while the wind was waiting. The synod in Lanfranc’s day followed on the Gemót, and it took up only three days.[1253] Most of the bishops were present at Hastings; those who were absent had doubtless been summoned and, by the rule of the Great Charter and of common sense, they would be bound by the acts of those who obeyed the summons.The Archbishop’s claim to the regency. Moreover, according to the precedents of the late reign, Anselm would be the sole or chief representative of the King during his absence. He might fairly ask to be clothed with every power, temporal and spiritual, which was needed for the fit discharge of kingly as well as pastoral duties.

Anselm attempts to recover the King’s favour. Anselm was deeply grieved at the ill success of his personal appeal to the King. He was now wholly out of the King’s favour, and he felt that, without some measure of support from the King, he could not carry out the reforms, ecclesiastical and moral, for which he longed.[1254] He was ready to do anything that could be done with a good conscience in order to win back the King’s good will. He sent the bishops to William, to crave that he might, of the King’s free grace, be again admitted to his friendship. If the King would not grant him his favour, let him at least say why he would not grant it; if Anselm had wronged him in any way, he was ready to make the wrong good.[1255] The bishops laid the prayer of their metropolitan before the King. The answer was characteristic. “I have no fault to find with the Archbishop; yet I will not grant him my favour, because I hear no reason given why I should.”[1256] What those words meant in the mouth of Rufus the bishops knew very well. Advice of the bishops to give more money. They went back to tell the Primate that the mystery was clear.[1257] The King’s favour was to be won only by money, and by money in no small store. Their counsel was that Anselm should at once give the King the five hundred pounds which he had before offered, and that he should promise him another gift of the same amount as soon as he could get it out of his men.[1258] On those terms they fully believed that the King would grant him his peace and friendship. They saw no other way for him; they were in the same strait themselves, and knew no other way out of it.[1259]

In the counsel thus given to Anselm by his suffragans we hear the words, not of utterly worldly and unscrupulous men, but of the ordinary prelates of the time, good men, many of them, in all that concerned their own personal lives and the ordinary administration of their churches, but not men disposed to risk or dare much, men disposed to go on as they best might in very bad times, without doing anything which might make things still worse. Anselm’s grounds for refusing. In the eyes of Anselm, on the other hand, things hardly could be made worse; if they could, it would be by consenting to them. By an unflinching assertion of principle things might be made better; in the worst case the assertor of principle would have delivered his own soul. In Anselm’s eyes the course which his suffragans suggested was sinful on every ground; moreover—​an argument which some of them might better understand—​it was utterly inexpedient. He refused to make his way out of his difficulties by the path which they proposed. The King allowed that he had no ground of complaint; he was simply angry because he could not get five hundred pounds out of him as the price of his favour. If now, while his appointment was still fresh, he should win the King’s favour at such a price, the King would get angry with him at any other time that might suit him, in order to have his wrath bought off in the same way. This last argument seems to show that Anselm was after all not so lacking in worldly wisdom as some have thought. He will not oppress his tenants. But his main argument was that he would not commit the crime of wringing any more money out of his tenants. They had been frightfully oppressed and robbed during the vacancy; he had not as yet been able to do anything to relieve them; he would not lay fresh burthens upon them; he would not flay alive those who were already stripped to their skins.[1260] Again, he would not deal with his lord the King as if his friendship was a thing to be bought and sold. He owed the King faith and honour, and it would be doing him dishonour to treat his favour like a horse or an ass to be paid for in vile money. He utterly refused to put such an insult upon his sovereign. His answer to the bishops. He told his suffragans that they should rather do their best to persuade the King to deal of his free grace as it was fit for him to deal with his archbishop and spiritual father. Then he, on his part, would strive to do all that he could and might do for his service and pleasure. This ideal view of the relation of King and Primate was doubtless above the heads of John of Bath, of Robert of Lincoln, of Robert of Chester, and of William of Durham in his present mood. It was surely one of them, rather than Osmund or Robert of Hereford, who answered; “But at least you will not refuse him the five hundred pounds which you once offered.” Anselm answered that he could not give that either; when the King refused it, he had promised it to the poor, and the more part of it had been given to them already. The bishops went back to the King on their unpromising errand. The King more hostile than ever. William bade them tell the Archbishop that he hated him much yesterday, that he hated him much to-day, and that he would hate him more and more to-morrow and every other day. He would never hold Anselm for father or archbishop; he cursed and eschewed his blessings and prayers. Let him go where he would; he need not stay any longer there at Hastings, if it was to bless him on his setting sail that he was waiting.[1261]

Anselm leaves Hastings. The Red King had thus cast aside another offer of grace. Our guide tells us; “We departed from the court with speed, and left him to his will.” The pronoun is emphatic. From that time, if not from an earlier time, English Eadmer was the inseparable companion of Anselm. Anselm and Eadmer then turned away, at what exact date we are not told. But the north wind seems not to have blown till more than half the month of March had passed. Then at last King William of England set sail from Hastings for the conquest of Normandy. He went without Anselm’s blessing; yet some of the ceremonies which had been gone through during his sojourn at Hastings must surely have dwelled in his mind. Fresh from the rite which in some sort marked the completion of his father’s work in England, the William crosses to Normandy. March 19, 1094.younger William set out so far to undo his father’s work as to bring Normandy into political subjection to England. At what Norman haven he landed we are not told; it was seemingly in some part of the lands of his earlier conquest, the lands on the right bank of the Seine. Before swords were drawn, an attempt was made to settle the dispute between the brothers.Vain attempts to settle the dispute. King and Duke met in person; what was their place of meeting we are not told; but no agreement could be come to.[1262] A second meeting took place, in which the guarantors of the former treaty were appealed to, much as Cnut had appealed to the witnesses of the treaty between him and Eadmund.[1263] Verdict of the guarantors against William. The guarantors, the twenty-four barons, twelve on each side, who had sworn to the treaty, agreed in a verdict which laid the whole blame upon the King. The words of our account—​it is the English Chronicler who speaks—​clearly imply that the guarantors on William’s side agreed in this verdict no less than those who swore on behalf of Robert.[1264] And he adds from himself that Rufus would neither allow that he was in fault nor abide by his former engagement.[1265] This meeting therefore was yet more fruitless than the former; the brothers parted in greater anger than ever.[1266] The Duke went back to Rouen; the King again took up his head-quarters at Eu.[1267]

Again on Norman soil, William began to practise the arts which had stood him in such stead in his former enterprise on the duchy. He hired mercenaries; he gave or promised money or lands to such of the chief men of Normandy as were willing to forsake the allegiance of Robert; he quartered his knights both in the castles which he had hitherto held, and in those which he won to himself by these means.[1268] Some of these last were very far from Eu. Castles held by the King. It shows how successful were the arts of Rufus, how wide was the disaffection against Robert, when we find castles, far away from one another, far away from the seat of William’s power in eastern Normandy, but hemming in the lands in the Duke’s obedience on two dangerous frontiers, garrisoned by the King’s troops. We are reminded of the revival of Henry’s power in the Côtentin when we read La Houlme. that the castle of La Houlme, at the junction of the two rivers Douve and Merderet, lying south-east from Valognes and nearly east from Saint Saviour, was now held for William.[1269] Argentan. So was another stronghold in quite another quarter, not far from the Cenomannian border, the castle of Argentan on the upper course of the Orne, to the south of the great forest of Gouffers. Two famous captains held these threatening posts. Argentan was commanded by Earl Roger’s son, Roger the Poitevin.[1270] La Houlme was held by William Peverel, the lord of Nottingham and the Peakland.[1271] Taking of Bures. But the first military exploit of the campaign was wrought in a land nearer to Eu. Bures—​whether still held or not by the faithful Helias we are not told—​was taken, and the garrison were made prisoners; some of them were kept in Normandy, others were sent by Rufus for better safe-keeping in his own kingdom.[1272]

Rufus thus pressed the war vigorously against his brother, with the full purpose of wholly depriving him of the duchy. Robert calls in King Philip. Robert, in his distress, again called on his over-lord, and this time with more effect than before.[1273] The French intervention was at least able to turn the balance for a while against Rufus. No object was more important for Robert than the recovery of the two strongholds which threatened him, one in the dangerous land on the upper Orne, the other in the no less dangerous Constantine peninsula. Siege of Argentan. A joint expedition of the new allies was agreed on, and King and Duke appeared side by side before Argentan. The castle stood on a height of no great elevation above the river, with the town, as usual, spreading down to its banks. The existing fragments show that the fortress and its precinct covered a vast space, but no architectural feature remains as a witness of the siege of Argentan by Philip and Robert. The town contains several attractive buildings of later date, ecclesiastical, civil, and military. There are churches, town-walls with their towers, the later château within the fortress; but of the stronghold which Roger of Poitou had to guard against the powers of Rouen and Paris but little can be traced. There are some massive and irregular pieces of wall, and part of a polygonal donjon, the latter at least far later than Roger’s day. But of the size and strength of the castle there can be no doubt. It is therefore with some little wonder that we read that the besiegers found its capture so easy a matter as they did, especially when its defender was one of the house of Montgomery and Bellême. Surrender of Argentan. On the very first day of the siege the castle surrendered without bloodshed. Roger of Poitou, with seven hundred knights and as many esquires—​a name which we are now beginning to come across—​and his whole garrison were made prisoners and were kept in ward till they were ransomed.[1274] Here we see the hand of Philip; we see, as in some other cases which we have come across already, the beginning of one of the institutions of chivalry. Ransom of prisoners. We shall presently see the custom of the ransom become a marked feature of the wars between France and England—​so we shall soon find ourselves obliged to call them—​in the eleventh century no less than in the fourteenth. But the bulky King of the French was for the present contented with this one exploit and with so valuable a stock of captives. Philip went back into France, and left his Norman vassal to go on with the campaign alone.[1275] Robert now drew some spirit from success. He marched westward, and attacked La Houlme. Robert takes La Houlme The castle surrendered; the lord of the Peak, with eight hundred men, became the prize of the Duke’s unusual display of vigour.[1276]

The war went on; each side burned the towns and took the men of the other side.[1277] But the tide had for the moment decidedly turned against the Red King. Difficulties of Rufus. The loss of Argentan and La Houlme, with their commanders and their large garrisons, was a serious military blow. The payment of their ransoms might be a still more serious financial blow. And the payment of a ransom, by which he only got back again what he had had before, would be less satisfactory to the mind of Rufus than the payment of bribes and wages by which he had a hope of gaining something fresh. The hoard at Winchester seems at last to have been running low; but when William Rufus was king and when he had Randolf Flambard to his minister, there could be no lack of ways and means to fill it again. Further taxation. Specially heavy were the gelds laid on England both in this year and in the following.[1278] And money was gained by one device which surely would have come into the head of no king and no minister save those by whom it actually was devised. A great levy was ordered; Levy of English soldiers. King William sent over his bidding that twenty thousand Englishmen should come over to help the King in Normandy.[1279] Englishmen had by this time got used to service beyond sea. Nothing is said of any difficulty in getting this great force together. The troops were gathered at Hastings, ready to set sail. Each man had brought with him ten shillings, the contribution of his shire for his maintenance in the King’s service. For the men who answered to Rufus’ bidding were no mercenaries, not even housecarls; they were the fyrd of England, summoned, by a perhaps unjustifiable but not very wonderful stretch of authority, to serve their king beyond the sea. But, when they were ready to sail, Flambard takes away the soldiers’ money. Flambard came, and by the King’s orders took away each man’s money, and bade them all go home again.[1280] One would like to know something of the feelings of the men who were thus strangely cheated; we should surely have heard if there had been any open resistance. Anyhow, by this amazing trick, the Red King had exchanged the arms of twenty thousand Englishmen for a sum of ten thousand pounds of English money. After all, the money might be of greater use than the men in a war with Philip of Paris.

If William thus reckoned, he was not deceived. He was still at Eu. Philip was again in arms; his forces joined those of Robert; again King and Duke marched side by side, this time with the purpose of besieging the King of the English in his Norman stronghold. Rufus buys off Philip. The ten thousand pounds now served William’s turn quite as well as the twenty thousand men could have served it. The combined French and Norman host had reached Longueville on the Scie, with streams and forests between them and Eu.[1281] Longueville was the last stage of their march. Thither Rufus sent those who knew how to bring his special arguments to bear on the mind of Philip. The King again went back to France, and the confederate army was broken up.[1282]

Contemporary notices of the campaign. There is something very singular in the way in which this second Norman war of William Rufus is dealt with by those who wrote at or near the time. Some make no mention of it at all; others speak of it only casually; our own Chronicler, who gives the fullest account of all, does not carry it on to any intelligible issue of success or of failure. In his pages, and in those of some others, the war drops out of notice, without coming to any real end of any kind.[1283] The monk of Saint Evroul, so lavish in local Norman details, seems to have had his head too full of the local strifes among the Norman nobles to tell us anything of a warfare which in our eyes comes so much nearer to the likeness of a national struggle. It must always be remembered that the local wars which tore every district of Normandy in pieces did not stop in the least because two hostile kings were encamped on Norman soil. Difference between England and Normandy. There cannot be a more speaking comment, at once on the difference between Robert and either of his brothers and on the essential difference between the ordinary state of Normandy and of England. With us private war was never lawful; we needed not the preaching of the Truce of God.[1284] William the Great, when his authority was fully established, kept England in peace; and in his later years the peace of Normandy itself, as distinguished from the border lands, was broken only by the rebellion of his own son. So in England there still were rebellions alike against Rufus and against Henry; but, when the rebellion was crushed, the land was at rest. Private wars go on in Normandy. In Normandy, as soon as the hand of the great ruler was taken away, things fell back into the state in which they had been during his own minority. And they remained in that state till William the Red in his later years again established order in the duchy. One can well understand that the endless ups and downs in the local struggles which went on close to every man’s door really drew to themselves far more of men’s thoughts than the strife of King William, King Philip, and Duke Robert himself. The two kings were but two more disputants added to the crowd, and they were disputants who really did much less harm to the land in general than was done by its own native chiefs. It is not very wonderful then that we hear so little of this war from the Norman side. It is not wonderful that, on the English side, when stirring events began again before long to happen in England, the Norman war dropped out of sight. And presently events in the world’s history were to come which made even the warfare of England and France seem trifles amid the general stir of “the world’s debate.”

Relations of Rufus and Henry. For the last events of Rufus’ second Norman war we have to go wholly to our one witness in our own tongue. It is plain that the King, even after his gold had turned Philip back, did not feel at all at ease in his Norman quarters. He seems to have distrusted two important personages at the other end of the duchy, his other brother and one of the mightiest of his own subjects. Henry, Ætheling and again Count, was safe in his castle of Domfront, among the people who had chosen him as their protector. At one period of this year, he is described as at war with both his brothers at once.[1285] We find him taking the part of the lord of Saint Cenery, Robert son of Geroy,[1286] against the common enemy, Robert of Bellême. Saint Cenery taken by Robert of Bellême. His help however did not hinder the cherished fortress from falling into the hands of the tyrant.[1287] We hear of him before the end of the war in a way which implies at least some suspicious feeling between himself and the King his brother. Henry and Hugh summoned to Eu. Besides Henry, Hugh of Chester—​rather Hugh of Avranches or Hugh of Saint-James—​was also in his own continental possessions. The King summoned both of them to come to him at Eu, and, as the state of the duchy did not allow them to come across Normandy by land, he sent ships to bring them.[1288] But Henry and Hugh, from whatever causes, did not choose to meet the King face to face. They go to Southampton. October 31, 1094.
They keep Christmas in London. Instead of sailing to Eu or its port, they made for Southampton, where they landed and seemingly stayed—​with what objects we are not told—​for some weeks.[1289] Thence they went to London, and kept Christmas there. King William was not this year wearing his crown either at Westminster or at Gloucester. But it is clear that the movements of his youngest brother had an effect upon his own. For the first three days of the holy twelve he stayed at Whitsand. The King comes to England. December 28, 1094. On the fourth day, the feast of the Innocents, the anniversary of the dedication of the West Minster, he crossed the sea and landed at Dover.[1290] Thence he seemingly came to London, where Henry was. Whatever quarrels or suspicions had sprung up between the King and the Ætheling were now made up. Henry was received into his brother’s fullest William and Henry reconciled. confidence. He stayed in England till Lent began, when he went to spend the penitential season in Normandy. But it was not to be an idle season; in the month between Epiphany and Lent, the Red King had made his preparations for a campaign in which Henry was to Henry goes to Normandy, c. Feb. 9, 1095. take his place. The Count of Coutances then went again beyond sea with great treasures to be used on the King’s behalf against his brother—​Earl Robert, as English lips called him. “And ofttimes upon the Earl he won, and to him mickle harm either on land and His warfare with Robert.on men did.”[1291] Here ends our story. We get no further details till William became master of all Normandy by quite another process. General results of the campaign. But though we get no details of the war from Norman sources, we do get a general picture of its results. The no-rule of Robert is once more set before us in speaking words. The soft Duke, who feared his subjects more than they feared him, was benumbed with softness and idleness.[1292] He is contrasted with both his brothers. Progress of Henry. Henry held his stronghold at Domfront, together with a large but undefined part of the duchy, including without doubt the more part of his old peninsular county. Some places he had won by arms; others, like Domfront itself, had sought his rule of their own free will.[1293] Within these bounds he yielded to his brother the Duke just so much service as he thought good,[1294] which at this particular moment would be little indeed. And the other brother who wore the diadem of England held more than twenty castles on Norman ground. He, unlike Robert, was a ruler whom men feared; and his gifts, and the fear of him together, kept many of the great men of the land, not only in his allegiance, but in his zealous service.[1295] If Normandy was not conquered, it was at least effectually dismembered.

Norman supporters of William. The list of the Norman nobles who joined the King from beyond sea takes in most of the names with which we are most at home. There is Ralph of Conches, Gerard of Gournay, Richard of Courcy. We hear now too of Philip of Braose, a name to become famous in more than one part of our island. And we find the names of men yet higher in power, and nearer to the ducal house. William of Eu.
Stephen of Aumale. There is the first author of the late troubles, Count William of Eu, for the present still an adherent of Rufus, before long to be heard of in quite another character. With him stands Count Stephen of Aumale, also before long to play a part in our story wholly different from that which we find him playing now. Robert of Meulan. And it is needless to say that Count Robert of Meulan was the Red King’s servant in his Norman, as well as in his English character.[1296] Walter Giffard. Nor do we wonder to find in the same list—​for he was Earl of Buckingham as well as lord of Longueville—​the name of Walter Giffard, him who appeared as an aged man forty years before.[1297] He still lived, while, during this very year, more than one of the elder generation of the famous men of Normandy passed away. Death of Roger of Beaumont. 1094. The father of the Count of Meulan, the old Roger of Beaumont, renowned so many years before alike in arms and in council,[1298] died on the Norman soil which he had guarded so well, and which he seems never to have left. He had for some years left the world, to become a monk in the monastery of Preaux of his father’s rearing.[1299] His estates had passed to his son at Meulan, the mighty vassal of three lords. Henry Earl of Warwick. His younger son Henry had his lot cast in England, where, perhaps before this time, the Red King bestowed on him the earldom of Warwick. And, in the same year as the lord of Beaumont, died, far away in England, another Roger, Death of Roger of Montgomery. 1094. like him a monk, but four days before a mighty earl, Roger of Montgomery, of Arundel, and of Shrewsbury, the youngest brother of the house beyond the Severn bridge of which he at least claimed to be the founder.[1300] His vast possessions were divided at his death. Robert of Bellême succeeds his father in Normandy, and Hugh in England. Robert of Bellême, already heir of his mother in the border-land, now became heir of his father in Normandy. The earldom of Shrewsbury and Roger’s other English estates passed to his second son Hugh, who bears the character of being the only one of the sons of Mabel who was mild and gentle[1301]—​mild and gentle, we must understand, to Normans, perhaps even to Englishmen, but certainly not to captive Britons. Of Hugh, as well as of Robert of Bellême and Roger of Poitou, as well as of Arnulf of Montgomery, a fourth son of the same fierce stock, we shall hear much as our tale goes on. Death of Hugh of Grantmesnil. In England too, perhaps within his sheriffdom of Leicester, died Hugh of Grantmesnil, of whom we have lately heard in the civil wars both of Normandy and of England, and whom his own shire and his neighbours of Northamptonshire had no reason to bless. His burial at Saint Evroul. His body, we need hardly say, found its way across the sea, to lie among his loyal bedesmen at Saint Evroul.[1302] These men all left the world in the year with which we are now dealing, Death of Walter Giffard. 1102. and left the hoary Earl of Buckingham to be for eight years longer the representative of an earlier day.[1303] The hands which eight and twenty years before had been too feeble to bear the banner of the Apostle[1304] were still, it would seem, ready to do whatever was still found for them to do in the service of the Red King. But the warfare of the King and his partisans is set down simply as one among the many ways in which Normandy was torn in pieces by her own children.[1305] Eadmer’s judgement of the campaign. An English writer meanwhile, on whose main subject the Norman campaigns of Rufus had but a very indirect bearing, speaks casually of this expedition as an undertaking on which a vast deal of money was spent, but by which very little was gained.[1306]

It is indeed to be borne in mind, as supplying at least a partial explanation of the way in which the second Norman expedition comes to an end without any end, that things in England were, just as they had been three years and a half before, in a state which urgently called for the presence of the King within his kingdom. Wretchedness of England. We know not whether it at all moved him that the heavy taxation which had been laid on his kingdom for the cost of his warfare had brought the land to the lowest pitch of wretchedness. Men, we are told, had ceased to till the ground; hunger followed; there were hardly left any who could tend the dying or bury the dead.[1307] These things might not have greatly stirred the heart of the Red King; but he may, like other tyrants, have felt that there was a bound beyond which oppression could not be safely carried. Causes for the King’s return. And there were political and military reasons which called him back. He could not afford to jeopard his undisputed possession of England for the sake of a few more castles in Normandy. He could hardly afford to jeopard for their sake the imperial supremacy of his crown over the whole isle of Britain, a supremacy which he was at that moment specially called on to assert. The year of the second Norman campaign was a year of special importance in the history both of Scotland and of Wales. Affairs of Scotland While the Red King was warring and bribing in Normandy, Scotland had, as in the days of Siward, received a king from England, and, what had not happened in the days of Siward, her people had slain the foreign nominee, and had again chosen a king of their own. The first reign of Donald, the momentary reign of Duncan, the beginning of the second reign of Donald, all of them events which were not mere changes of sovereign, but real revolutions in the state of the nation, had happened between the death of Malcolm and the return of William from Normandy thirteen months later. and Wales. Wales too had risen in a movement which had more than was usual of the character of real national insurrection, and the movement had called for all the energies of the new Earl of Shrewsbury and of the King himself on his return. Plots at home. And a plot yet nearer home, a plot to deprive the King of his crown and life, a plot devised by men who had been just now the foremost in supporting his cause, broke out soon after his return. It broke out so soon after it that one is tempted to think that it was already hatching, and that it was one of the causes which brought him back. The seeming break-down of the Red King’s second Norman campaign thus becomes more intelligible than some of the other cases where he began an undertaking and failed to finish it. William had plenty to do in Britain, both in camp and in council. As soon as he was assured of the adhesion of his brother Henry, he could afford, indeed he was driven, to leave him to do the work which had to be done in Normandy.

§ 4. The Council of Rockingham.
December, 1094–March, 1095.

Notices of the year 1095. The year to which the last Christmas feast introduces us brings strongly home to us the singular way in which our general chroniclers follow one line of events, while the special biographer of the Archbishop follows another. There is no contradiction; but the gaps which have to be filled up in each narrative are remarkable. It is not perhaps wonderful that the biographer of Anselm should, even in a work which bears a general title, pass by events which in no way affected the history of Anselm. It is more remarkable that one of the most striking scenes in Anselm’s history should not have been thought worthy of notice by the more general annalists of our land. But so it is. Councils of the year. The year 1095 is a year of very stirring events, and it is preeminently a year of councils. But, with a single exception, our two authorities do not record the same events and the same councils. Both tell us of the pallium being brought to Anselm; but, while one tells us nothing of the most striking of the assemblies in which Anselm bore a part, the other tells us nothing of the conspiracy, the revolt, the war, which specially mark this year in the general story of England.

Alleged Welsh campaign. January 9, 1095? If our story is rightly told, the Christmas meeting of William and Henry, followed before long by a Norman campaign on the part of Henry, was followed yet more immediately by a Welsh campaign on the part of William. The King took the affairs of his own island into his own hands, and, for the present, he left those of the mainland to the Count of Coutances. A winter campaign in Wales does not sound very promising, and we are not surprised to hear that it did not add much to the glory of the Red King’s arms.[1308] At all events it must have been short, for, in the course of January and February we find him at points at a considerable distance from the Welsh border. Movements of William. January-February, 1095. In January he was at Cricklade in Wiltshire; in February he was at Gillingham in Dorset, near to Ælfred’s monastery of Shaftesbury, and itself the scene of the election of the Confessor.[1309] In both cases we hear of the King’s movements through incidental notices in our ecclesiastical story. The second is part of the story of Anselm; the first does not concern Anselm himself; it forms part of the tale of the holiest of his suffragans.

Death of Wulfstan. In this month of January the soul of the last surviving English bishop, the sainted Wulfstan of Worcester, passed away. In the eyes of one annalist his death was the great event of the year, and was announced by signs and wonders in the heavens. “There was a stir among the stars, and Wulfstan Bishop of Worcester died!”[1310] Sickness of Wulfstan. The health of the good old man had been for some time ailing; we have seen that he had latterly been unable to show himself in assemblies and ceremonies. At the Easter, 1094. Easter of the year before his death, while the King was in Normandy, he told his steward that on the day of the feast he meant to dine in state with “good men.” He dines with “good men.” The steward, mistaking the meaning of a phrase which is ambiguous in several languages and which was specially so in the English of his day,[1311] got together many of the rich men of the neighbourhood—​we are not told whether the Sheriff Urse was among them. The day came; the Bishop entered the hall with a large company of the poor, and ordered seats to be set for them among the other guests. The steward was displeased;[1312] but Wulfstan explained that those whom he brought with him were the men who had the true riches; he had rather sit down with such a company than sit down, as he had often done, with the King of the English.[1313] For Rufus, we are told, always received Wulfstan with honour; General respect for Wulfstan. we may doubt whether either knew enough of the other’s language for rebukes to be met by repartees. The great men of the realm did the like. Foreign princes, prelates, and potentates honoured him with gifts and asked for his prayers.[1314] His correspondence. Among his correspondents were the Pope—​doubtless Urban—​Malcolm and Margaret of Scotland, and the kings of Ireland. His increased sickness. Whitsuntide, 1094.To this list are added the Archbishop of Bari and the Patriarch of Jerusalem, which last name suggests correspondence on the common needs of Christendom. At Pentecost Wulfstan was very sick; he sent for his special friend Bishop Robert of Hereford, him whose skill had foretold that Remigius would never dedicate his minster.[1315] Wulfstan and Robert of Hereford. Robert came; the humble Wulfstan made his confession and submitted to the discipline.[1316] But he lived on during the rest of that year. Shortly after the beginning of the new year, he had another visit from Bishop Robert and two abbots of his diocese, Serlo of Gloucester and Gerald, abbot of the still unfinished house which Robert Fitz-hamon was raising at Tewkesbury.[1317] Wulfstan again confessed; he foretold his own death; he comforted his friends; he gave himself to religious exercises, causing his seat in his chamber to be so placed that he could see the altar in his chapel.[1318] Death of Wulfstan. January 18, 1095.
His appearance to Bishop Robert. At last, not many days after Robert’s visit, the one remaining bishop of the old stock passed away from his church and from the world. Men believed that he appeared in transitu to his friend Bishop Robert, who, as one who reconciled his episcopal virtues with skill in the affairs of the world, was now with the King at Cricklade.[1319] The vision bade Robert come to his friend’s burial; he came, and the ceremony took place four days after Wulfstan’s death, among a mighty gathering of those who had honoured His burial. Jan. 22.him in life. A generation later it was made a subject of complaint, a subject of rebuke to an age which, we are told, was loath to believe in signs and wonders, that so holy a man was not formally enrolled on the list of saints.[1320] Aftertimes made up for this neglect. Wulfstan became the chief object of local devotion, and no small object of devotion throughout the land. The saint whom Rufus had honoured in life became after death the special object of the devotion of King John, who hoped to be safer in the next world if his body lay in Wulfstan’s church under the shadow of Wulfstan’s shrine.

Another link with the past was thus snapped, and, what the King at least thought more of, another bishopric passed into the hands of Flambard. About a month after the shade of Wulfstan had appeared to Bishop Robert in the King’s court at Cricklade, the living Anselm showed himself to the King in person in his court at Gillingham.[1321] Notwithstanding the hatred which William had expressed towards him at Hastings, the Archbishop had reasons which urged him to seek another interview. Anselm and Urban. The errand on which he came was one at which he had hinted before he had been invested with the archbishopric. He had then fairly warned the King that, if he became archbishop, he must acknowledge Urban as Pope.[1322] He had as yet done nothing towards acknowledging him; he had taken no step which involved the acknowledgement of Urban or of any other pope. With Anselm moral questions came first. The points on which he had first striven to awaken the conscience of the King had been the moral corruption of his court and kingdom, and the synod which, in Anselm’s eyes at least, was the best means for its reformation. But William had so utterly refused his consent to the holding of a synod, he had so utterly refused to give Anselm any help in his schemes of moral reform, that Anselm perhaps thought it useless to press those subjects again upon him. The point which he still thought it his duty to press was one which to us seems of infinitely less importance than either, but with regard to which we must look at matters with the eyes of Anselm’s day and not with the eyes of our own. Anselm was full archbishop in all points spiritual and temporal, as far as the spiritual and temporal powers of England could make him so. Need of the pallium. But he still lacked one badge of metropolitan authority, without which his position would certainly be deemed imperfect anywhere out of England. He had not received the archiepiscopal pallium from Rome. He naturally wished for this final stage of his promotion, this sign of recognition, as he would deem it, on the part of the Universal Church and her chief pastor. Elder usage as to the pallium. Now this supposed need of the pallium was not, like some of the claims of the Roman see, anything new. English archbishops had gone to receive the pallium at Rome, or they had had the pallium sent to them from Rome, in the days of the elder William, in the days of Eadward, in the days of kings long before then.[1323] Lanfranc had gone to Rome for his pallium with the full good will of the Conqueror,[1324] and one of the chief ecclesiastical difficulties of the time immediately before the Conqueror’s coming was the belief that Stigand had received his pallium in an irregular way.[1325] The amount of dependence on the Roman see which was implied in the receipt of this badge of honour may perhaps be questioned. It would be differently understood at Rome and at Canterbury. It would be differently understood at Canterbury, according to the temper of different archbishops, or according to their English or foreign birth. The pallium not needful for the validity of archiepiscopal acts. But it is at least plain that the possession of the pallium was not at this time looked on as at all needful for the validity of any archiepiscopal act. Anselm, as yet unclothed with it, had consecrated a bishop and had proposed to hold a synod. Still for the new archbishop to go to Rome to receive that badge of his office which was still lacking was a simple matter of course. Doubtless the journey needed the formal leave of the king; but no king but William Rufus would have thought of refusing his leave for the purpose. William had indeed not acknowledged Urban; but Anselm had warned William that, if he became archbishop, he must continue to acknowledge Urban, and William had allowed him to become archbishop on those terms. The earlier conduct of William in such matters could not have led Anselm to think that he attached much real importance to the matter. William of Saint-Calais had put forth the loftiest views of papal authority in the hearing of William and Lanfranc, and they had been objected to on quite other grounds. King and Primate had rightly objected when the Bishop of Durham appealed from the King and his Witan to the Pope of Rome; they had not quarrelled with the Bishop of Durham simply because he had implied that there was a Pope of Rome. Character of William’s refusal. The refusal to allow Anselm to go for the pallium could have come only from a king who was determined to raise every point which could annoy the archbishop, above all to raise every point which could by any chance drive him to a resignation of the archbishopric. Or better still than all in the Red King’s eyes would it be to find some point which could anyhow lead to Anselm’s being deprived of the archbishopric. If such an end could be gained, it would matter not by what power or by what process it was done; it would matter not if it involved the forsaking on William’s own part of every position which he had taken up.

Anselm asks leave to go to Urban for the pallium.
William will acknowledge no pope. Anselm then came to Gillingham, and asked the King’s leave to go to the Pope to ask for his pallium. William at once asked to which Pope he meant to go.[1326] Anselm of course answered, To Urban. The King said that he had not yet acknowledged Urban as Pope, that it was neither his custom nor that of his father to allow any one in his kingdom so much as to call any one Pope without his leave. So precious was this right to him that to seek to take it from him was the same thing as to seek to take away his crown.[1327] Anselm’s argument. Anselm then set forth the case of the two contending Popes, and his own personal case in the matter. He reminded the King of what he had told him at Rochester before he took the archbishopric, that, as Abbot of Bec, he had acknowledged Urban, and that he could not withdraw from the obedience which he had pledged to him. William’s answer. The King, in great wrath, said that Anselm could not at once keep his faith towards himself and the obedience which without his leave he had promised to Urban.[1328] Position of Anselm towards Urban. Now, when Anselm pledged his obedience to Urban, he was not an English subject, and he needed no leave from the King of England for anything. He acknowledged Urban, as all the rest of Normandy acknowledged him. The obedience which he had thus pledged Anselm looked on as still personally binding on him, though his temporal allegiance was transferred to a kingdom where Urban was not acknowledged. William, not unnaturally, took no heed of Anselm’s personal obligations. Whatever the Abbot of Bec might have done, neither the Archbishop of Canterbury nor any other English subject could acknowledge any Pope without the King’s leave. After all, Anselm’s acknowledgement of Urban had not yet gone further than speaking of him as Pope. He had had no dealings with him of any kind. He indeed proposed to do an act which would have been the fullest acknowledgement of Urban’s claims. But he had proposed to do it only with the King’s leave. What he should do in case the King refused to give him leave to go, he had not said, very likely he had not settled in his own mind. He would do nothing contrary to his obedience to Urban; but as yet his obedience to Urban was wholly in theory. The King’s words now made it a practical question; any kind of adhesion to Urban was declared by the King’s own mouth to be inconsistent with the duties of one who was the man of the King of England.

Twofold duty of the Archbishop. Anselm, it is plain, was most anxious to do his duty alike as churchman and as subject. He saw no kind of inconsistency between the two. No such questions had been raised in the days of Lanfranc, and he had not done, or proposed to do, anything but what Lanfranc had done before him. Reasonably enough, he was not prepared to admit the King’s interpretation of the law which declared that he could not be the friend at once of Urban and of William. He asks for an assembly to discuss the question. And, in a thoroughly constitutional spirit, he demanded that the question should be referred to a lawful assembly of the kingdom. Let the bishops, abbots, and lay nobles come together, and let them decide whether the two duties were so inconsistent with each other as the King said they were.[1329] By their judgement on the point of law he would abide. Anselm’s purposes. If they ruled that it was as the King said, that obedience to Urban was inconsistent with allegiance to William, then he would shape his own course accordingly. He will leave the realm if he may not acknowledge Urban. If such should be their verdict, he could not abide in the land without either openly throwing off the obedience of Urban or else openly breaking his duty as subject and liegeman to William. He would do neither. In such a case he would leave the realm till such time as the King should acknowledge Urban.[1330] By that means he would avoid all breach of either duty. The case might well have been argued on another ground, whether it was not being righteous overmuch to bring back again, for the sake of a technical scruple of any kind, all the evils which would at once follow if the land were again left without an archbishop. Anselm’s answer would doubtless have been that he could not do evil that good might come. And it would be much clearer to the mind of Anselm than it would have been to the mind of any native Englishman that a withdrawal of obedience from Urban was the doing of evil. The feelings of Aosta, even the feelings of Bec, were not quite at home in the air of Gillingham. But the bringing in of foreign ideas, feelings, and scruples, was one of the necessary consequences of foreign conquest. Anselm obeyed his own conscience, and his conscience taught him as a conscience schooled at Aosta and Bec could not fail to teach him.

Frequency of assemblies under Rufus. To Anselm’s proposal for referring the matter to the Witan of the kingdom William made no objection. The Red King seems never to have had any objection to meeting either his great men or the general mass of his subjects. He was in truth so strong that every gathering of the kind became little more than a display of his power. But it is not easy to see why the question could not have been kept open till the ordinary Easter Gemót. Easter Gemót. March 25, 1095. That Gemót was held this year at Winchester, and, as we shall see in another chapter, matters of no small moment had to be treated in it. The King’s authority was beginning to be defied in northern England, and at this Easter it had to be asserted. A special meeting summoned. But, for whatever reason, it was determined that a special assembly should be summoned a fortnight before the regular meeting at Winchester, for the discussion of the particular point which had been raised between the King and the Archbishop. It illustrates the way in which the kings and great men of that time were always moving from place to place that a spot was chosen for the special meeting, far away from the spot where William and Anselm then were, far away from the place where the regular assembly was to be held so soon after. Gillingham and Winchester were comparatively near to each other; Assembly of Rockingham. March 11, 1095. but the assembly which was to give a legal judgement as to Anselm’s conflicting duties was summoned to meet on the second Sunday before Easter at the royal castle of Rockingham on the borders of Northamptonshire and Leicestershire, a place which had at least the merit of being one of the most central in England.

In the question which was now to be argued, there can be little doubt that the King was technically in the right, as the law was understood in his father’s time. The King technically right. By the custom of the Conqueror’s reign, no Pope could be acknowledged without the King’s leave; and, though Anselm had not taken any active or public step in acknowledgement of Urban, he had acknowledged him in words spoken to the King himself, and he had declared that he would not on any account withdraw his obedience from Urban. Moral estimate of his conduct. At the same time one can hardly conceive a more pettifogging way of interpreting the law, or a meaner way of abusing a legal power. There was no reasonable ground for refusing to acknowledge Urban, except on the theory that the deposition of Gregory and the election of Clement were valid. Urban represented the claims of Gregory; Clement still lived to assert his own claims. But though Lanfranc had used cautious language about the dispute,[1331] England and her King had never thought of acknowledging Clement or of withdrawing their allegiance from Gregory. Gregory had been the Conqueror’s Pope, as long as the two great ones both lived. Position of the rival Popes. And, if Clement’s election was void from the beginning, Gregory’s death could not make his right any better. Victor had succeeded Gregory, and Urban had succeeded Victor. There could be no excuse for objecting to Urban, except on a ground which William Rufus might have been glad to take up, but which he could not take up with any decency. He might, not unreasonably from his own point of view, have thrown himself into the Imperial cause, as the common cause of princes. But he could not do this without throwing blame on the conduct of his father. Or again, if he had tried, in any legal or regular way, either to limit the papal power like Henry the Second, or to cast it off altogether like Henry the Eighth, we at least, as we read the story, could not have blamed him. But it was not in the nature of William Rufus to do anything in a legal or regular way. It was not in him to take up any really intelligible counter position, either by getting rid of Popes altogether or by acknowledging the Imperial Pope. It is true that he might have found it hard to carry with him even his servile prelates, still harder to carry his lay nobles, in either of those courses. But then it was just as little in him honestly to take the third course which was open to him, by frankly acknowledging Urban. William’s treatment of the question. It pleased him better to play tricks with his claim to acknowledge popes, just as he played tricks with his claim to appoint bishops and abbots. To keep the question open, to give no reason on either side, but practically to hinder the acknowledgement of any pope, was a more marked exercise of his own arbitrary will than if he had ruled the disputed question either way. But, just as he was ready to fill up a bishopric as soon as he thought it worth his while in point of money, so he was quite ready to acknowledge a pope as soon as it seemed worth his while to do so, in point either of policy or of spite. No real objection to Urban on his part. All this while he had not the slightest real objection to acknowledge Urban. Either now or very soon after, he was actually intriguing with Urban, in hopes of carrying his point against Anselm by his means.

And now the Assembly came together which was to declare the law of England as to the point in dispute between Anselm and the King. Position of Rockingham. It was not gathered in any of the great cities, or under the shadow of any of the great minsters, of the realm. Nor yet was it gathered, as some councils were gathered before and after, in one of those spots which were simply the seats of the King’s silvan pleasures. Rockingham, placed on the edge of the forest which bears its name, the wooded ground between the sluggish streams of Nen and Welland, was preeminently a hunting-seat; but it was not merely a hunting-seat; it was also a fortress. History of the place. As in so many cases, the Norman, in this case the Conqueror himself, had seized and adapted to his own use the home and the works of the Englishman. On a height just within the borders of Northamptonshire, looking forth across the valley of the Welland over the Danish land to the north, the Englishman Bofig had in King Eadward’s days held sac and soc in his lordship of Rockingham. His dwelling-place, like those of other English thegns, crowned a mound on a site strong by nature, and which the skill of Norman engineers was to change into a site strong by art. In the havoc which fell upon Northampton, borough and shire, when William went forth to subdue the Mercian land,[1332] the home of Bofig had become waste; and on that waste spot the King The castle. ordered a castle to be built.[1333] At Rockingham, as almost everywhere else, we find works earlier and later than the time of our story, but nothing that we can positively assign to the days of either William. There is no keep, as at Bridgenorth and at Oxford, which we can assign to any of the known actors in our tale. The mound of Bofig is yoked on to a series of buildings of various dates, from the thirteenth century to the sixteenth. But we can still trace the line of the walls and ditches which the Conqueror or his successors added as new defences to the primitive mound and its primitive ditch. Art and nature together have made the site almost peninsular; but a considerable space, occupied by the parish church and by the town which has sunk to a village, lies between the castle and the stream that flows beneath the height. Description of the site. The site is a lordly one, and is almost the more striking because it commands no other great object such as those which are commanded by those castles which were raised to protect or to keep down a city. When the forest was still a forest in every sense of the word, the aspect of the castle of Rockingham, one of the wilder retreats of English kingship, must have been at once lonelier and busier than it is now.

Meeting of the Assembly. March 11, 1095. At Rockingham then the Assembly met, a fortnight before Easter. The immediate place of meeting was the church within the castle.[1334] The church has perished, but its probable site may be traced among the buildings to the north of the mound. But it is hard to understand Place of meeting; the castle-chapel.how the narrow space of a castle-chapel could hold the great gathering which came together at Rockingham. The King and his immediate counsellors sat apart in a separate chamber, while outside were a numerous body, The King’s inner council. which is also spoken of as a vast crowd of monks, clerks, and laymen.[1335] It may be that, according to an arrangement which is sometimes found elsewhere, but of which there is no present trace at Rockingham, the great hall opened into the chapel, so that, while the church was formally the place of meeting, the greater space of the hall would be open to receive the overflowing crowd.[1336] Early hours of the assembly. The time of meeting was the early morning; a midnight sitting of the Wise Men was an unknown thing in those days. The King sat within in the outer space, whatever was its nature, Anselm’s opening speech. Anselm addressed the assembly, calling forth the bishops and lords from the presence-chamber to hear him. We must remember that, in the absence of the King, he was the first man in the Assembly and its natural leader. He laid his case before his hearers. He had asked leave of the King to go to Pope Urban for his pallium. The King had told him that to acknowledge Urban or any one else as Pope without his leave was the same thing as trying to take his crown from him. The King had added that faith to him and obedience to Urban were two things which could not go together; Anselm could not practise both at once. It was this point which the Assembly had come together to decide; it was on this point that their counsel was needed. He states his case. He bade his hearers remember that he had not sought the archbishopric, that in truth he would gladly have been burned alive rather than take it.[1337] They had themselves forced him into the office—​the bishops certainly had in a literal and even physical sense. It was for them now to help him with their counsel, to lessen thereby the burthen which they themselves had laid on his shoulder.[1338] He appealed to all, he specially appealed to his brother bishops, to weigh the matter carefully, and to decide. Could he at once keep his plighted faith to the King and his plighted obedience to the Pope? It was a grave matter to sin against either duty. Could not both duties be observed without any breach of either?

The real point avoided on the King’s side. This was indeed the question which the Assembly was brought together to consider and to decide. The meeting had been called, at Anselm’s own request, to inform him on the point of law, whether he could acknowledge Urban without disloyalty to William. But during a long debate of two days, that real issue is never touched, till Anselm himself calls back men’s minds to the real object of their coming together. Assumption of the King’s party against Anselm. It is assumed throughout by the King and the King’s party that the point of law is already settled in the sense unfavourable to Anselm, that Anselm has done something contrary to his allegiance to the King, that He is treated as an accused person. he is there as an accused man for trial, almost as a convicted man for sentence. That he is a member of the Assembly, the highest subject in the Assembly, that the whole object of the meeting is to decide a question in which the King and his highest subject understand the law in different ways, seems not to come into the head of any of the King’s immediate counsellors. Conduct of the bishops. Least of all does it come into the heads of the bishops, the class of men who play the most prominent and the least creditable part in the story.

Answer of the bishops. To Anselm’s question then the bishops were the first to make answer. They are spoken of throughout as acting in a body; but they must have had some spokesman. That spokesman could not have been the Bishop of Durham, who must surely have been sitting with the King in his inner council. William of Saint-Calais comes on the scene afterwards, but no bishop is mentioned by name at this stage. The answer of the episcopal body was not cheering. The Archbishop had no need of their counsel. He was a man prudent in God and a lover of goodness, and could settle such points better than they could. If he would throw himself wholly on the King’s will, then they would give him their advice;[1339] or they would, if he wished, go in and report his words to the King. The meeting adjourned till Monday. They did so; and Rufus, with a scruple which one would rather have looked for from Anselm, ordered that, as the day was Sunday, the discussion should be adjourned to the morrow. Anselm was to go to his own quarters, and to appear again in the morning. One might like to know where, not only the Archbishop, but the whole host of visitors at times like this, found quarters. Unless they were all the King’s guests in the castle, and Meeting of Monday, March 12.filled its nooks and corners how they might, it must have been much harder to find lodgings at Rockingham than it was at Gloucester. Monday morning came; Anselm, with his faithful reporter Eadmer, went to the place of meeting. Anselm and the bishops. Sitting in the midst of the whole Assembly,[1340] he told the bishops, as it would seem, that he was ready to receive the advice which he had asked for yesterday. They counsel unreserved submission. They again answered that they had nothing to say but what they had said yesterday; they had no advice to give him, unless he was ready to throw himself wholly on the King’s will. If he drew distinctions and reservations, if he pleaded any call on behalf of God to do anything against the King’s will, they would give him no help.[1341] So low had the prelacy of England fallen under the administration of Rufus and Flambard. Position of the bishops. Neither as priests of God, nor as Witan of the realm, nor simply as freemen of the land, was there any strength or counsel in them. Their answer seems almost to imply that they cast aside the common decencies, not only of prelates but of Christian men, that they fully accepted the ruling of their sovereign, that the will of God was not to be put into comparison with the will of the King. Anselm makes no exclusive claims. Anselm is not doing like some before and after him, not even like his chief enemy in the present gathering. He is not asserting any special privilege for his order; he is not appealing from a court within the realm to any foreign jurisdiction. He asks for counsel how he may reconcile his duty to God with his duty to the King; and the answer he gets is that he has nothing to do but to submit to the King’s will; the law of God, and seemingly the law of England with it, are to go for nothing. But there was at least some shame left in them; when they had given their answer, they held their peace and hung down their heads, as if waiting for what Anselm might lay upon them.[1342] His second speech. Then the Primate spoke, seemingly not rising from his seat, but with uplifted eyes, with solemn voice, with a face all alive with feeling.[1343] He looked at the chiefs of Church and State, prelates and nobles, and told them that if they, shepherds and princes,[1344] could give no counsel save according to the will of one man, he must betake him to the Shepherd and Prince of all. That Shepherd and Prince had given a charge and authority to Peter first, and after him to the other Apostles, to the Vicar of Peter first and after him to all other bishops, a charge and authority which He had not given to any temporal prince, Count, Duke, King, or Emperor.[1345] His two duties. He owed a duty to his temporal prince, for the Lord had bidden him to render to Cæsar the things that were Cæsar’s. But he was bidden also to render to God the things that were God’s. He would, to the best of his power, obey both commands. He must give obedience to the Vicar of Peter in the things of God; in those things which belonged to the earthly dignity of his lord the King, he would ever give his lord his faithful counsel and help, according to the measure of his power.

Position of England towards the Popes. The words are calm and dignified, the words of a man who, forsaken by all, had no guide left but the light within him. There is indeed a ring about some of Anselm’s sayings which is not pleasing in English ears; we may doubt whether Dunstan would have drawn the distinction which was drawn by Anselm. And yet that distinction comes to no more than the undoubted truth that we should obey God rather than man. The only question was whether obedience to Pope Urban was a necessary part of obedience to God. The foreign clergy doubtless held stronger views of papal authority than had been known of old in England; but we may be sure that every man, native or foreign, held that the Bishop of Rome had some claim on his reverence, if not on his obedience. The ancient custom that an English archbishop should go to him for the pallium shows it of itself. The craven bishops themselves would, if secretly pressed by their consciences or their confessors, have spoken in all things as Anselm spoke. And there was one hard by, if not present in that company, yet within the wall of the same castle, who had gone many steps further Romeward than Anselm went. Anselm and William of Saint-Calais. Closeted with the King, caballing with him against the man of God, was Bishop William of Durham, the man who had openly appealed to the Pope from the sentence of an English court, the man who had openly refused to Cæsar what was most truly Cæsar’s, who had denied the right of the King and Witan of England to judge a bishop, even in the most purely temporal causes.[1346] Anselm had made no such appeal; he had made no such exclusive claims; it is needless to say that he did not, like William of Saint-Calais, take to the policy of obstruction, that he did not waste the time of the assembly by raising petty points of law, or subtle questions as to the befitting dress of its members.[1347] Anselm was a poor Papist, one might almost say a poor churchman, beside that still recent phase of the bishop who had now fully learned that the will of God was not to be thought of when it clashed with the will of the King. Anselm not the first to appeal to Rome. It was not Anselm, but the man who sought to supplant Anselm, who had taken the first and greatest step towards the establishment of foreign and usurped jurisdictions within the realm.

Answer of the bishops. The bishops heard the answer of their Primate. They rose troubled and angry; they talked confusedly to one another; they seemed as if they were pronouncing Anselm to be guilty of death.[1348] They turned to him in wrath; they told him that they would not carry to the King such a message as that, and they went out to the room where the King was. But it was right that the King should know what Anselm’s answer had been. Anselm had no one whom he could send on such an errand; it was not in his nature to thrust another into the mouth of the lion when he could brave the danger himself. Anselm goes in to the King. He went into the presence-chamber; he repeated his own words to the King, and at once withdrew. The wrath of William was kindled; he took counsel with the bishops and the nobles of his party, to see what answer he could make; but they found none. As in the hall at Lillebonne, when the Conqueror put forth his plan for the invasion of England,[1349] men were to be seen talking together by threes and fours, seeking for something to say which might at once soften the King’s wrath and at the same time not directly deny the doctrine set forth by Anselm.[1350] Anselm asleep. They were long over their discussion; the subject of their debates meanwhile sat leaning against the wall of the place of meeting, in a gentle sleep.[1351] He was awakened by the entrance of the bishops, accompanied by some of the lay nobles, charged with a message from the King. The King’s message. His lord the King bade him at once, laying aside all other words—​the words, one would think, of dreamland so cruelly broken in upon—​to hear, and to give his answer with all speed.[1352] Advice of the bishops. They had not as yet to announce any solemn judgement of the King and his Witan; their words still took the form of advice; but it was advice which was meant to be final and decisive.[1353] As for the matters which had been talked about between him and the King at Gillingham, the matter for whose decision he had sought the present adjournment, the matter at issue was plain and easy. The whole realm was complaining of the Archbishop, because he was striving to take away from the common lord of all of them his crown, the glory of his Empire. For he who seeks to take away the King’s dignities and customs seeks to take away his crown; the one cannot be without the other.[1354] Anselm to submit to the King in all things. They counselled Anselm at once to throw aside all obedience and submission to Urban, who could do him no good, and who, if he only made his peace with the King, could do him no harm. Let him be free, as an Archbishop of Canterbury should be in all his doings; as free, let him wait for the will and bidding of the King in all things.[1355] Let him, like a wise man, confess his fault and ask for pardon; then should his enemies who now mocked at his misfortunes, be put to shame as they saw him again lifted up in honour.[1356]

Such was the advice which the stranger bishops of England, with such of the stranger nobles as acted with them, gave to the stranger Primate. Such was their prayer, such was their counsel; such was the course which they insisted on as needful for Anselm and for all who held with him. Their definition of freedom. Among those was the true Englishman who wrote down their words, and who must have smiled over the definition of freedom which, even in their mouths, has a sound of sarcasm. Anselm will not reject Urban. Anselm said that, to speak of nothing else, he could not cast aside his obedience to the Pope. But it was evening; let there be an adjournment till the morrow; then he would speak as God should bid him.[1357] The bishops deemed either that he knew not what more to say or else that he was beginning to yield through fear.[1358] They went back to the King, and urged him that the adjournment should not be allowed, but that, as the matter had been discussed enough, if Anselm would not agree to their counsel, the formal judgement of the Assembly should be at once pronounced against him.[1359]

William of Saint-Calais. And now for the first time we come across a distinct mention of an individual actor, standing out with a marked personality from the general mass of the assembled Witan. Foremost on the King’s side, the chosen spokesman of his master, was the very man who had gone so far beyond Anselm, who had forestalled Thomas himself, in asserting the jurisdiction of the Bishop of Rome within this realm of England. William of Saint-Calais, who, when it suited his purpose, had appealed to the Pope, who had been so anxious to go to the Pope, but who, when he had the means of going, had never gone, stood now fully ready to carry out the Imperial teaching that what seems good to the prince has the force of law. His schemes against Anselm. This man, so ready of speech—​that we have seen long ago—​but, in Eadmer’s eyes at least, not rich in any true wisdom, was all this time stirring the King up to wrath against Anselm, and doing all that he could to widen the breach between them.[1360] He aspires to the archbishopric. Men believed, on Anselm’s side at least, that his object was to bring about the Archbishop’s deprivation or resignation by any means, in hopes that he might himself succeed him.[1361] Was this mere surmise, or had the Bishop of Durham any solid ground for looking forward to a translation to Canterbury? Had he the needful means? William of Saint-Calais was not a servant of the King’s to make a fortune in his service, like Randolf Flambard or Robert Bloet. He had risen, like Anselm himself, through the ranks of monk, prior, abbot, and bishop. But so too had Herbert Losinga, who had managed to buy a bishopric for himself and an abbey for his father. William of Saint-Calais had since his consecration spent three years in banishment while his bishopric was in the King’s hands. Still he may, during his two terms of possession before and after, have screwed enough out of the patrimony of Saint Cuthberht to pay even the vast price at which the archbishopric would doubtless be valued. Or he may have fondly dreamed that, if Anselm could be got rid of by his means, the service would be deemed so great as to entitle him to Anselm’s place as a free gift. Anyhow he worked diligently on the King’s behalf. We are told—​and the picture is not out of character—​that Objects of the King. Rufus wished to get rid of Anselm as the representative within his realm of another power than his own. He deemed himself to be no full king as long as there was any one who put the will of God before the will of the King, or who named the name of God as a power to which even the King must yield.[1362] In his hatred to Anselm, he hoped to carry one of two points. Either the Archbishop would abjure the Pope, and would abide in the land a dishonoured man who had given up the cause for which he strove. Or else, if he still clave to the Pope, the King would then have a reasonable excuse for driving him out of the kingdom.

To these intrigues of the blaspheming King the Bishop of Durham was not ashamed to lend himself. He recked nothing of the dishonour under which it was thought that Anselm would hardly bear to live. Bishop William’s promises to the King. He promised to the King that he would bring about one of two things; either the Archbishop should renounce the Pope, or else he should formally resign the archbishopric by restoring the ring and staff.[1363] Now seemingly was the time to press him, when he was weary with the day’s work and sought for a respite, when his enemies were beginning to hope that, either through fear or weariness, he would be driven to yield. So the bishops again went back from the King to the Archbishop, with him of Durham as their leader and spokesman. The time-server made his speech to the man of God. His speech to Anselm. “Hear the King’s complaint against you. He says that, as far as lies in your power, you have robbed him of his dignity by making Odo Bishop of Ostia”—​William of Saint-Calais had had other names for him in an earlier assembly—​“Pope in his England[1364] without his bidding. Having so robbed him, you ask for an adjournment that you may devise arguments to prove that that robbery is just. Rather, if you please, clothe him again with the dignify of his Empire,[1365] and then talk about an adjournment. Otherwise know that he will invoke the wrath of Almighty God upon himself, and we his liegemen will have to make ourselves sharers in the curse, if he grants you an adjournment of an hour. Wherefore at once make answer to the words of our lord, or else expect presently a judgement which shall chastise your presumption. Do not think that all this is a mere joke; we are driven on by the pricks of a heavy grievance.[1366] Nor is it wonderful. For that which your lord and ours claims as the chief thing in his whole dominion, that in which it is allowed that he surpasses all other kings,[1367] that you unjustly take away from him as far as lies in your power, and by taking it away you throw scorn on the oath which you have sworn to him, and plunge all his friends into this distress.”

William’s Imperial claim. Here are forms of words which may make us stop to study them. In this speech, and in the one which went before it, we see the ground on which William founded a claim to which he attached such special importance. It was not merely the King of the English, it was the Basileus of Britain, the Cæsar of the island world, whose dignity was deemed to be touched. To allow or to refuse the acknowledgement of Popes is here declared by William of Saint-Calais to be no part of the prerogative of a mere king; it is spoken of as the special attribute of Empire. He who, alone among Christian princes, knew no superior either in the elder or the younger Rome, was alone entitled to judge how far the claims of the Pontiff of one world should be acknowledged in another. This sole claim to Imperial power on behalf of the Monarch of all Britain[1368] might have been disputed in the last age in Bulgaria and in the next age in Castile; at that moment William of England was without a rival. He might even, if he chose to take up Anselm’s line of argument, bear himself as more truly Imperial than the German king whose Roman crown had been placed on his head by a schismatic pontiff. William and the vassal kingdoms. And yet at no moment since the day when Scot and Briton and Northman bowed to Eadward the Unconquered had the Emperor of the Isle of Albion been less of an Emperor than when Anselm met the Red King at Rockingham. The younger William had indeed fallen away from the dominion of the father who had received the homage at Abernethy and had made the pilgrimage to Saint David’s. The Welsh were in open and triumphant revolt; the Scots had driven out the king that he had given them. His ill-success at this moment. The Welsh had broken down his castles; the Scots had declared their land to be barred against all William’s subjects, French and English.[1369] True he was girding himself up for great efforts against both enemies; but those efforts had not yet been made. William was just then as far away as a man could be from deserving his father’s surnames of the Conqueror and the Great. At such a moment, we may really believe that he would feel special annoyance at anything which might be construed as casting doubt even in theory on claims which he found it so hard to assert in practice. In the moment of his first great success in England, there had been less to bring the wider and loftier side of his dominion before his mind. He had thought less of his right to allow or to refuse the acknowledgement of Popes in the days when the regale was asserted by Lanfranc and the pontificale by William of Saint-Calais, than he thought now that the regale was asserted by William of Saint-Calais and the pontificale by Anselm.

The shamelessness of the words of William of Saint-Calais in the mouth of William of Saint-Calais might have stirred even the meek Anselm to wrath. But he bore all with patience; he only seized, with all the skill of his scholastic training, on the palpable fallacy of the Bishop’s argument. The real question hitherto evaded. The Assembly had come together to discuss and settle a point of law. Was the duty which Anselm professed towards the Pope inconsistent or not with the duty which he no less fully acknowledged towards the King? On that point not only had no judgement been given, but no arguments either way had been heard. Messages had gone to and fro; Anselm had been implored, advised, threatened; but prayers, advice, and threats had all assumed that the point which they had all come there to discuss had already been ruled in the sense unfavourable to Anselm. William of Saint-Calais could talk faster than Anselm; but, as he had not Anselm’s principle, so neither had he Anselm’s logic. Anselm saw both his intellectual and his moral advantage. Anselm’s challenge. His answer to the Bishop of Durham took the shape of a challenge. “If there be any man who wishes to prove that, because I will not give up my obedience towards the venerable chief Pontiff of the holy Roman Church, I thereby break the faith and oath which I owe to my earthly King, let him stand forth, and, in the name of the Lord, he will find me ready to answer him where I ought and as I ought.” He states the real case. The real issue was thus at last stated; Anselm demanded that the thing should at last be done which the Assembly had been called for the very purpose of doing. The bishops were puzzled, as they well might be; they looked at one another, but no one had anything to say; so they went back to their lord.[1370] Our guide however puts thoughts into their hearts which Anselm had certainly not uttered, which his position in no way implied, and which one is tempted to think that both Anselm and Eadmer first heard of in later times when they came to talk with a pope face to face. New position of the bishops. The bishops, we are told, remembered, what they had not thought of before, that an Archbishop of Canterbury could not be judged on any charge by any judge except the Pope.[1371] This may be so far true as that William of Saint-Calais may have remembered the day when he had urged those very claims on behalf, not only of an Archbishop of Canterbury, but of a Bishop of Durham. If the other bishops had any such sudden enlightenment, they did well to keep their new light to themselves. The doctrine that no one but a Pope could judge the Archbishop, combined with the doctrine that there could be no Pope in England without the King’s leave, amounted, during the present state of things, to a full licence to the Archbishop to do anything that he might think good.

Meanwhile things were taking a new turn in the outer place of assembly. There a state of mind very unlike that of the King’s inner council began to show itself. There were those, as there will always be in every gathering of men, whose instinct led them to insult and trample on one who seemed to be falling. By such men threats, revilings, slanders of every kind, were hurled at the Archbishop, Anselm insulted. as he sat peacefully waking and sleeping, while William of Saint-Calais marched to and fro at the head of his episcopal troop. But threats and revilings were not the only voices that Anselm heard. Popular feeling on his side. The feeling of the great mass of the assembly was with him. Well might it be so. Englishmen still abiding on their own soil, Normans who on English soil were growing into Englishmen, men who had brought with them the spirit which had made the Conqueror himself pause on the day of Lillebonne, were not minded to see the assembly of the nation turned into a mere tool to carry out a despot’s will. They were not minded that the man whose cause they had come together to judge according to law should be judged without law by a time-serving cabal of the King’s creatures. English thegns, Norman knights, were wrought in another mould from the simoniacal bishops of William’s court. A spirit began to stir among them like the spirit of the old times, the spirit of the day which called back Godwine to his earldom and drove Robert of Jumièges from his archbishopric. When Anselm spoke and William of Saint-Calais stood abashed and speechless, the general feeling of the assembly went with the man who was ready to trust his cause to the event of a fair debate, against the man who could do nothing but take for granted over and over again the very question which they had come there to argue. There went through the hall that deep, low murmur which shows that the heart of a great assembly is stirring and that it will before long find some means of clearer utterance. But for a while no man dared to speak openly for fear—​it is Eadmer’s word—​of the tyrant.[1372] At last a spokesman was found. A knight—​we should gladly know his name and race and dwelling-place—​stepped Anselm and the knight. forth from the crowd and knelt at the feet of Anselm,[1373] with the words, “Father and lord, through me your suppliant children pray you not to let your heart be troubled at what you have heard; remember how the blessed Job vanquished the devil on his dunghill, and avenged Adam whom he had vanquished in paradise.” Anselm received his words with a pleased and cheerful look; for he now knew that the heart of the people was with him. “Vox populi vox Dei.” And his true companions rejoiced also, and grew calmer in their minds, knowing the scripture—​so our guide tells us—​that the voice of the people is the voice of God.[1374] Perplexity of the King. While a native English heart was thus carried back to the feelings of bygone times, the voice of the stranger King, to whom God was as a personal enemy, was speaking in another tone. His hopes had utterly broken down; his loyal bishops had made promises to him which they had been unable to fulfil. When he heard how popular feeling was turning towards Anselm, he was angered beyond measure, to the very rending asunder of his soul.[1375] His speech to the bishops. He turned to his bishops in wrath. “What is this? Did you not promise that you would deal with him altogether according to my will, that you would judge him, that you would condemn him?” William of Saint-Calais breaks down. The boasted wisdom, the very flow of speech, of their leader the Bishop of Durham now failed him; he spoke as one from whom all sense and reason had gone away.[1376] The assembly adjourned. All that he could say who had so lately with curses and threats refused Anselm’s plea for an adjournment was to propose an adjournment himself. It was night; let Anselm be bidden to go to his own quarters; they, the bishops, would spend the night in thinking over what Anselm had said, and in devising an answer on the King’s behalf.[1377] The assembly was accordingly prorogued till the next morning, and Anselm went to his own quarters, uncondemned, with his cause as yet unheard and unanswered, but comforted doubtless that he had put his enemies to silence, and that he had learned that the hearts of the people were with him.

March 13, 1095. Tuesday morning came, and Anselm and his companions took their seats in the accustomed place,[1378] awaiting the King’s bidding. That bidding was slow in coming. The debates in the King’s closet were perplexed. Debates in the inner council. The King and his inner counsellors were working hard to find some excuse for the condemnation of Anselm. The King asked the Bishop of Durham how he had passed the night;[1379] but the night thoughts of William of Saint-Calais, sleeping or waking, did not bring much help to the royal cause. He confessed that he could find no way to answer Anselm’s argument, all the more because it rested on holy writ and the authority of Saint Peter. We must always remember that the texts which Anselm quoted, and the interpretation which he put upon them, were in no way special to himself. Every one acknowledged them; William of Saint-Calais recommends force. William of Saint-Calais had appealed to them when it suited his purpose to do so. But the bishop who had once laid the lands of northern England waste could recommend force when reason failed. He whose dealings towards the King in whose cause he was now working had been likened to the deed of Judas was now ready to play Judas over again towards the Patriarch of all the nations beyond the sea. “My counsel,” he said in plain words, “is that he be put down by force;[1380] if he will not consent to the King’s will, let the ring and staff be taken from him, and let him be driven from the kingdom.” The lay nobles refuse. This short way of dealing with the Archbishop, proposed by the man who had once argued that none but the Pope could judge any bishop, suited the temper of the King; it did not suit the temper of the lay nobles. Many of them had great crimes of their own to repent of; but they could see what was right when others were to practise it. Besides Anselm was in one way their own chief; if they were great feudatories of the kingdom, so was he, the highest in rank among them. The doctrine that the first vassal of the kingdom was to be stripped of his fief at the King’s pleasure might be dangerous to earls as well as to bishops. The lay nobles refused their consent to the violent scheme of the Bishop of Durham. Speech of the King. The King turned fiercely on them. “If this does not please you, what does please you? While I live, I will not put up with an equal in my kingdom.” Speaking confusedly, it would seem, to bishops and barons alike, he asked, “If you knew that he had such strong grounds for his cause, why did you let me begin the suit against him? Go, consult, for, by God’s face, if you do not condemn him according to my will, I will condemn you.”[1381] The common spokesman was found in him whose counsel was held to be as the oracle of God.[1382] Speech of Robert of Meulan. Count Robert of Meulan spoke, and his speech was certainly a contrast to that of Bishop William, though both alike, these two special counsellors, confessed that Anselm had been too much for them. “All day long were we putting together counsels with all our might, and consulting how our counsels might hang together, and meanwhile he, thinking no evil back again, sleeps, and, when our devices are brought out, with one touch of his lips he breaks them like a spider’s web.”[1383]

The King and the bishops. When the temporal lords, the subtlest of counsellors among them, thus failed him, the King again turned to his lords spiritual. “And you, my bishops, what do you say?” They answered, but their spokesman this time is not mentioned; Bishop William, it would seem, had tried and had failed. They were grieved that they could not satisfy the pleasure of their lord. Anselm was Primate, not only of the kingdom of England, but of Scotland, Ireland, and the neighbouring islands—​lands to which William’s power most certainly did not reach at that moment. They were his suffragans;[1384] they could not with any reason judge or condemn him, even if any crime could be shown against him, and now no crime could be shown. “What then,” asks William, “can be done?” The king bids the bishops withdraw their obedience from Anselm. The question was answered by a suggestion of his own, one which sounds as if it really were his own, and not the device of Bishop William or Count Robert. If the bishops could not judge him, could they not withdraw from him all obedience and brotherly friendship? This, they said, if he commanded it, they could do. It is not clear by what right they could withdraw their obedience from a superior whom they could not judge; but both king and bishops were satisfied. The bishops were to go and do the business at once; when Anselm saw that he was left alone, he would be ashamed, and would groan that he had ever forsaken his lord to follow Urban.[1385] He withdraws his protection. And, that they might do this the more safely, the King added that he now withdrew from Anselm all protection throughout his Empire, that he would not listen to or acknowledge him in any cause,[1386] that he would no longer hold him for his archbishop or ghostly father. Though the King’s commandment was urgent, the bishops still stayed to devise other devices against Anselm; yet found they none. The bishops and abbots carry the message. At last the bishops, now taking with them the abbots, a class of whom we have not hitherto heard in the story, went out and announced to Anselm at once their own withdrawal of obedience and friendship and the King’s withdrawal of protection. The Archbishop’s answer was a mild one. They did wrong to withdraw their obedience and friendship where it was due, merely because he would not withdraw his where it was also due. But he would not deal by them as they dealt by him. Anselm’s answer. He would still show them the love of a brother and a father; he would do what he could for them, as brethren and sons of the church of Canterbury, to bring them back from their error into the right way. And whereas the King withdrew from him all protection and would no longer acknowledge him as father and archbishop, he would still discharge to the King every earthly duty that lay upon him, and, so far as the King would let him,[1387] he would still do his duty for the care of the King’s soul. Only he would, for God’s service, still keep the name, power, and office, of Archbishop of Canterbury, whatever might be the oppression in outward things that it might bring upon him.

The King turns again to the lay lords. His words were reported to the King.[1388] We are again admitted to witness the scene in the presence-chamber. The bishops had proved broken reeds; William would make one more appeal to the lay nobles. “Everything that he says,” began the King, “is against my pleasure, and no one shall be my man who chooses to be his.[1389] Wherefore, you who are the great men of my kingdom, do you, as the bishops have done, withdraw from him all faith and friendship, that he may know how little he gains by the faith which he keeps to the Apostolic See in defiance of my will.” But the lay lords were not like the bishops; one would like to know by what mouth they made their calm and logical answer. They drew a clear distinction between spiritual and temporal allegiance. The King had told them that no one could be his man and the Archbishop’s at once, and he had bidden them to withdraw their faith—​clearly using the word in the feudal sense—​from the Archbishop. The lay lords support Anselm. They answered that they were not the Archbishop’s men, that they could not withdraw from him a fealty which they had never paid to him. This of course was true of the lay nobles as a body, whatever questions there might be about Tunbridge castle or any other particular fief. But they went on to say that, though Anselm was not their lord, yet he was their archbishop, that it was he who had to “govern Christianity” in the land; that, as Christian men, they could not, while in that land, decline his mastership, all the more as there was no spot of offence in him which should make the King treat him in any other way.[1390] The King’s difficulties. Such an answer naturally stirred up William’s wrath; but the earls and great barons of his kingdom were a body with whom even he could not dare to trifle. He was stronger than any one among them; he might not be stronger than all of them together, backed as they now were, as the events of the day before had shown, by popular feeling. He had once beaten the Norman nobles at the head of the English people; he might not be able to beat the Norman nobles and the English people together. He therefore made an effort, and kept down any open outburst of the wrath that was in him.[1391] But the bishops were covered with confusion;Shame of the bishops. they felt that all eyes were turned on them, and that their apostasy was loathed of all.[1392] This and that bishop was greeted, seemingly by this or that earl or baron, with the names usual in such cases, Judas, Pilate, and Herod.[1393] The King further examines the bishops. Then the King put the trembling bishops through another examination. Had they abjured all obedience to Anselm, or only such obedience as he claimed by the authority of the Roman Pontiff?[1394] The question was hard to answer. Anselm does not seem to have claimed any obedience by virtue of the authority of the Pope; he had simply refused to withdraw his own obedience from the Pope. Some therefore answered one way, some another. But it was soon plain which way the King wished them to answer. The real question in William’s mind had nothing to do with the Pope; any subtlety about acknowledging this or that Pope was a mere excuse. It was Anselm himself, as the servant of God, the man who spake of righteousness and temperance and judgement to come, that Rufus loathed and sought to crush. Those bishops therefore who said that they had abjured Anselm’s obedience utterly and without condition were at once bidden to sit down as his friends in seats of honour.[1395] His treatment of them. Those who said that they had abjured only such obedience as was claimed by the Pope’s authority, were sent, like naughty children, into a corner of the room, to wait, as traitors and enemies, for their sentence of condemnation.[1396] But they debated among themselves in their corner, and soon found the means of winning back the royal favour. A heavy bribe, paid at once or soon after, wiped out even the crime of drawing distinctions while withdrawing their obedience from a metropolitan whom the King hated.[1397]

Anselm wishes to leave England. While his suffragans were undergoing this singular experience of the strength of the secular arm, Anselm sent a message to the King. He now asked that, as all protection within the kingdom was withdrawn from him, the King would give him and his companions a safe-conduct to one of his havens, that he might go out of the realm till such a time as God might be pleased to put an end to the present distress.[1398] Perplexity of the King. The King was much troubled and perplexed. He wished of all things for Anselm to leave the kingdom; but he feared the greater scandal which would arise if he left the kingdom while still in possession of the archbishopric, while he saw no way of depriving him of it.[1399] He again took counsel; but this time he did not trouble the bishops for their advice. Of them he had had enough; it was their counsel which had brought him into his present strait.[1400] He once more turned to the lay lords. Another adjournment. They advised yet another adjournment. The Archbishop should go back to his own quarters in the King’s full peace,[1401] and should come again in the morning to hear the King’s answer to his petition. Many of the King’s immediate courtiers were troubled; they groaned at the thought of Anselm’s leaving the land.[1402] But he himself went gladly and cheerfully to his lodgings, hoping to cross the sea and to cast off all his troubles and all the burthens of the world.[1403]

Wednesday, March 14, 1095.
Anselm summoned to the King’s presence. The fourth day of the meeting came, and the way in which its business opened marks how the tide was turning in Anselm’s favour. A body of the nobles came straight from the King, asking the Primate to come to the royal presence.[1404] Anselm was tossed to and fro between the hope of leaving the kingdom and the fear of staying in it. Eadmer was eager to know what would be the end of the whole matter.[1405] They set forth and reached the castle. They were not however, at first at least, admitted to the presence-chamber, but sat in their wonted place. Before long the lay nobles, accompanied by some of the bishops, came to Anselm. They were grieved, they said, as old friends of his, that there had been any dispute between him and the King. The lay lords propose a “truce.” Their object was to heal the breach, and they held that the best means towards that object was to agree to an adjournment—​a truce, a peace[1406]—​till a fixed day, during which time both sides should agree to do nothing which could be counted as a breach of the peace. Anselm agreed, though he said that he knew what kind of peace it would be.[1407] But it should not be said of him that he preferred his own judgement to that of others. To all that his lord the King and they might appoint in the name of God he would agree,[1408] saving only his obedience to Pope Urban. Adjournment till May 20. The lords approved; the King agreed; he pledged his honour to the observance of the peace till the appointed day, the octave of Pentecost. The day seems to have been chosen in order that the other business of the Whitsun Gemót might be got over before the particular case of Anselm came on. If matters had not been brought to an agreement before that time, the case was to begin again exactly at the stage in which it had left off at Rockingham.[1409] It is not clear whether, even at this last moment, William and Anselm again met face to face. But the Archbishop, by the King’s leave, went to Canterbury, knowing that the truce was but an idle and momentary veiling of hatred and of oppression that was to come.[1410]

Importance of the meeting at Rockingham. So it soon proved; yet the scene at Rockingham was a victory, not only for a moment but for ever. No slight step had been taken in the great march of English freedom, when Anselm, whom the King had sought to condemn without trial or indictment, went back, with his own immediate case indeed unsolved, but free, uncondemned, untried, with the voice of the people loud in his favour, while the barons of the realm declared him free from every crime. It was no mean day in English history when a king, a Norman king, the proudest and fiercest of Norman kings, was taught that there were limits to his will. It is like a foreshadowing of brighter days to come when the Primate of all England, backed by the barons and people of England—​for on that day the very strangers and conquerors deserved that name—​overcame the Red King and his time-serving bishops. The day of Rockingham has the fullest right to be marked with white in the kalendar in which we enter the day of Runnymede and the day of Lewes.

The honour of the chivalrous King was pledged to the peace with Anselm. But the honour of the chivalrous King was construed after a truly chivalrous fashion. William keeps faith to Anselm personally. William doubtless thought that he was doing all that a true knight could be expected to do, if he kept himself from any personal injury to the man to whom he had personally pledged his faith. Anselm was unhurt; he was free; he went whither he would; he discharged the ordinary duties of his office undisturbed; it does not appear that he was in any way personally molested, or that any of the property of his see was taken into the King’s hands. But William knew full well how to wreak his malice upon Anselm without breaking the letter of the faith which he had pledged. He knew how to grieve Anselm’s loving heart far more deeply than it could be grieved by any wrong done to himself. He oppresses his friends. The honour of the good knight was pledged to Anselm personally; it was not pledged to Anselm’s friends and tenants. Towards them he might, without breach of honour, play the greedy and merciless king. A few days after Anselm had reached Canterbury, Rufus sent to drive out of England the Archbishop’s cherished friend and counsellor the monk Baldwin of Tournay,[1411] and two of his clerks. Their only crime was standing by their master in the trial which still stood adjourned.[1412] The Archbishop’s chamberlain was seized in his master’s chamber before his master’s eyes; false charges were brought against his tenants, unjust imposts were laid upon them, and other wrongs of many kinds done to them.[1413] The church of Canterbury, it was said, began to doubt whether it had not been better off during the vacancy than now that the archbishopric was full.[1414] And all this while, heavy as William professed to deem the crime of so much as giving Urban the title of Pope, William’s own dealings with Urban were neither slight nor unfriendly.

§ 5. The Mission of Cardinal Walter.
1095.

Events of the months of truce, March-May, 1095. The months of truce between the King and the Archbishop were, as our next chapter will show, busy months in other ways. William Rufus was all this time engaged in another dispute with a subject of a rank but little below that of the Primate, a dispute in which, at least in its early stages, the King appears to much greater advantage than he commonly does. A conspiracy against William’s throne and life was plotting; Robert of Mowbray was making ready for revolt, and his refusal to appear, when summoned, at the Easter and Whitsun assemblies of this year was the first overt act of his rebellion. Assemblies of the year. We may conceive that Anselm did not attend either of those gatherings; that of Whitsuntide we know that he did not. It might be more consistent with the notion of the truce that he should keep away from the King’s presence and court till the time which had been fixed for the controversy formally to begin again. At Easter and for some time after, Anselm seems to have stayed at Canterbury, and, while he was there, the metropolitan city received an unexpected visitor, who did not allow himself to be treated as a guest.

Position of Urban. The year which we have reached was one of the most memorable in the history of the papacy. Urban, though not in full possession of Rome, had kept his Christmas there a year before, and his cause was decidedly in the ascendant throughout the year of the Red King’s second Norman campaign.[1415] At the beginning of the next year, after keeping Christmas in Tuscany, Urban went on into Lombardy, where the Emperor still was, though his rebel son Conrad, crowned and largely acknowledged as King of Italy, was far more powerful than his father.[1416] Council of Piacenza. May 1–7. Almost on the same days as those which in England were given to the council of Rockingham, Urban held his great council of Piacenza, a council so great that no building could hold its numbers; the business of the assembly was therefore done, as we have seen it done in our own land, in the open fields.[1417] Its decrees. There the Empress Praxedes told her tale of sorrow and shame; there the cry of Eastern Christendom, set forth in the letters of the Emperor Alexios, was heard and heeded; there the heresy of Berengar, already smitten by Lanfranc,[1418] was again condemned; there a new set of anathemas were hurled at the married clergy,[1419] and a more righteous curse was denounced against the adulterous King of the French. No mention of English affairs. But no mention seems to have been made of English affairs; one is a little surprized at the small amount of heed which the dispute between the King and the Archbishop seems to have drawn to itself in foreign lands. Yet, next to the ups and downs of the Emperor himself, one would have thought that no change could have so deeply affected the Roman see as the change from William the Great to William the Red. It is part of the same general difficulty which attaches to the Red King’s career, the strange fact that the worst of all crowned sinners, the foulest in life, the most open in blasphemy, the most utter scorner of the ecclesiastical power, never felt the weight of any of those ecclesiastical censures which so often lighted on offenders of a less deep dye. But if Urban was not thinking about William, William was certainly thinking about Urban. It was at this stage that we light on the curious picture which we have before seen, showing us England in a state of uncertainty, and seemingly of indifference, between the rival Pontiffs.[1420] William’s fresh schemes to turn the Pope against Anselm. But just now it suited William to acknowledge some Pope, because he thought that his only chance of carrying out his purposes against Anselm was by the help of a Pope. He had found that no class of men in his kingdom, except perhaps some of the bishops, would support him in any attempt to deprive the Primate of his own arbitrary will. Mere violence of course was open to him; but his Witan would not agree to any step against Anselm which made any pretence to legal form, and, with public feeling so strongly on Anselm’s side, with a dangerous rebellion brewing in the realm, the King might well shrink from mere violence towards the first of his subjects. His new device was to acknowledge a Pope, and then to try, by his usual arts, arts which Rome commonly appreciated, to get the Pope whom he acknowledged to act against the Archbishop. To see Anselm deprived, or in any way humbled, by an exercise of ecclesiastical power, would be to wound Anselm in a much tenderer point, and would therefore be a much keener satisfaction to his own spite, than anything that he could himself do with the high hand.

Mission of Gerard and William of Warelwast. As soon therefore as William found, by the issue of the meeting at Rockingham, that Anselm could not be bent to his will, and that he could practically do nothing against Anselm, he sent two trusty clerks of his chapel and chancery on a secret and delicate errand. They were men of the usual stamp, both of whom afterwards rose to those high places of the Church which were just then commonly reserved for men of their stamp. They were Gerard, afterwards Bishop of Hereford and Archbishop of York, and William of Warelwast, afterwards Bishop of Exeter. Their commission. As we read our account of their commission, it would almost seem as if they were empowered to go to Rome, to examine into the state of things, and to acknowledge whichever seemed to be the true Pope, or rather whichever Pope was most likely to suit their master’s purpose. They are practically sent to acknowledge Urban. But practically they had no choice but to acknowledge Urban. Local English feeling might indeed set little store by one who simply “hight Pope, though he nothing had of the settle at Rome;”[1421] but Urban was plainly the stronger Pope, the Pope acknowledged by all who were not in the immediate interest of the Emperor. And, what was more, Urban was the only Pope who could carry out William’s purpose. A censure from Urban would be a real blow to Anselm and to Anselm’s partisans; a censure from Clement would in their eyes go for nothing, or rather it would be reckoned as another witness in their favour. Practically Gerard and William of Warelwast went to acknowledge Urban, and to see what they could make of him. They went secretly. Anselm knew nothing of their going. Most likely nothing was known of their errand by any man beyond the innermost cabal of the King’s special counsellors.[1422]

Their mission is said to have been to Rome; but the name Rome must be taken in a conventional sense for any place where the Pope might be. It is not likely that they really reached the Eternal City. Urban at Cremona. April 10, 1095. In the former part of April Urban was at Cremona, and was received there with great state by the rebel King Conrad.[1423] The momentary effort of Henry which followed, his vain attempt on Nogara, only raised the position of Urban and the Great Countess yet higher.[1424] Dealings of Gerard and William with Urban.It was most likely at Cremona that the ministers from England met Urban. They were to try, if possible, to win over the Pontiff, by gifts, by promises, by any means, to send a pallium to England for the King to bestow on the Archbishop of Canterbury, without mentioning the name of Anselm. The Sicilian “Monarchy.” They were, it seems, to try to obtain for the King a legatine authority like that which, then or later, had been granted to the Norman princes of Sicily.[1425] A Norman king of England was surely as worthy of such powers as a Norman Great Count of Sicily; and throughout these disputes we ever and anon see the vision of the “Sicilian Monarchy,” as something at which kings of England were aiming, and which strict churchmen condemned, whether in Sicily or in England.[1426] It is even possible that Gerard and William of Warelwast may have discussed the matter with some members of the Sicilian embassy which about this time brought the daughter of Count Roger to Pisa as the bride of King Conrad.[1427] Relations between England and Sicily. Close intercourse between the Norman princes of the great Oceanic and the great Mediterranean island is now beginning to be no small element in European politics. Some commission of this kind from the Pope was what William’s heart was set upon; he thought he had good right to it; he thought that his hope of it could not be doomed to disappointment.[1428] Did the proudest of men look forward, as an addition to royal and imperial power, to a day when he might fill a throne in the mother church of England, looking down on the patriarchal chair, as the empty thrones of later Williams still look down on the lowlier metropolitan seats of Palermo and Monreale?

Gerard and William come back, The dates show that the journeys must have been hasty, and that the business was got through with all speed. The two clerks could not have left England before the middle of March, and May was not far advanced before they were in England again, and a papal Legate with them. and bring Cardinal Walter as Legate. This was the Cardinal Walter, Bishop of Albano, whose good life is witnessed by our own Chronicler.[1429] His Italian subtlety showed itself quite equal to the work of outwitting the King and his counsellors whenever he chose; but his Roman greediness could not always withstand their bribes. He brings a pallium. He came, bringing with him a pallium, but the whole affair was, by the King’s orders, shrouded in the deepest mystery. Not a word was said about the pallium; indeed the Legate was not allowed to have any private discourse with any man. Secrecy of his errand. His two keepers, Gerard and William, watched him carefully; they passed in silence through Canterbury, and took care not to meet the Archbishop.[1430] His interview with the King. A few days before Whitsuntide, Cardinal Walter had an interview with the King. He spoke so that William understood him to be willing to abet all his purposes. Some special privilege was granted to William, which amounted at the least to this, that no legate should be sent into England but one of the King’s own choosing.[1431] Not a word did Cardinal Walter say on behalf of Anselm, not a word that could make peace between him and the King, not a word that could give Anselm any comfort among all the troubles that he was enduring on behalf of the Christian religion and of the authority of the Holy See.[1432] Many who had looked for great good from the Legate’s coming began to murmur, and to say, as Englishmen had learned to say already and as they had often to say again, that at Rome gold went for more than righteousness.[1433] To King William everything seemed to be going as he wished it to go. William acknowledges Urban. Fully satisfied, he put out a proclamation that throughout his Empire—​through the whole patriarchate of Anselm—​Urban should be acknowledged as Pope and that obedience should be yielded to him as the successor of Saint Peter.[1434] Walter had now gained his point; William fancied that he had gained his. He at once asked that Anselm might be deprived of his archbishopric by the authority of the Pope whom he had just acknowledged. He offered a vast yearly payment to the Roman See, if the Cardinal would only serve his turn in this matter.[1435] Walter refuses to depose Anselm. But Walter stood firm; he had done the work for which he had come; England was under the obedience of Urban. And, much as gold might count for at Rome, neither the Pope nor his Legate had sunk to the infamy of taking money to oppress an innocent man and a faithful adherent. Anselm was indeed treated by them as Englishmen, whether by race, by birth, or by adoption, whether Edmund, Thomas, or Anselm, commonly were treated by Popes. He was made a tool of, and he got no effectual support; but Urban was not prepared for such active wickedness as the Red King asked of him.

William and his counsellors outwitted by the Legate. William was now thoroughly beaten at his own weapons. The craft and subtlety of Randolf Flambard, of William of Saint-Calais, of the Achitophel of Meulan himself, had proved of no strength before the sharper wit of Walter of Albano. The King complained with good right that he had gained nothing by acknowledging Urban.[1436] In truth he had lost a great deal. He had lost every decent excuse for any further attack upon Anselm. The whole complaint against Anselm was that he had acknowledged Urban. But the King had now himself acknowledged Urban, and he could not go on persecuting Anselm for simply forestalling his own act. In legal technicality doubtless, if it was a crime to acknowledge Urban when the King had not yet acknowledged him, that crime was not purged by the King’s later acknowledgement of him. Rufus himself might have been shameless enough to press so pettifogging a point; but he had learned at Rockingham that no man in the land, save perhaps a few servile bishops, would support him in so doing. He is driven to a reconciliation with Anselm. There was nothing to be done but for William to make up his quarrel with Anselm, to make it up, that is, as far as appearances went, to make it up till another opportunity for a quarrel could be found. But till such opportunity was found, Anselm must be openly and formally received into the King’s favour.[1437] The thing had to be done; only if some money could be squeezed out of Anselm in the process of doing it, the chivalrous King would be the better pleased.

Whitsun Gemót at Windsor. May 13, 1095. The feast of Pentecost came, and with it the second of the assemblies at which the rebellious Earl of Northumberland refused to show himself. The King and his Witan were at Windsor; the Archbishop was keeping the feast at his manor of Mortlake. On the octave he was himself, according to the truce made at Rockingham, to appear at Windsor. The King’s message to Anselm. In the course of the Whitsun-week a message was brought to him from the King, bidding him go to Hayes, another of his manors nearer to Windsor, in order that messages might more easily go to and fro between him and the King.[1438] He went, and Eadmer went with him. The next day nearly all the bishops came to him; some of them, it will be remembered, had kept the King’s favour throughout, and the others who had lost it had bought it again. Their object was to try to persuade the Archbishop to give money to the King for the restoration of his favour. Anselm answered stoutly, as before, that he would not so dishonour his lord as to treat his friendship as something which could be bought and sold.[1439] He would faithfully discharge every temporal duty to his lord, on the one condition of being allowed to keep his obedience to Pope Urban. If that was not allowed, he would again ask for a safe-conduct to leave the kingdom. The Legate’s coming revealed to Anselm. They then told him—​the secret must have been still kept, though Urban was acknowledged—​that the Bishop of Albano had brought a pallium from the Pope; they did not scruple to add that he had, at the King’s request, brought it for Anselm.[1440] Would not the Archbishop pay something for so great a benefit?[1441] Would he not at least, now that the pallium had come to him instead of his going for the pallium, pay the sum which the journey to Rome would otherwise have cost him?[1442] Anselm will not pay for the pallium. Anselm would pay nothing. The King had thus to make the best of a bad bargain. As Anselm would not pay for either friendship or pallium, there was nothing to be done but to let him have both friendship and pallium without paying. Anselm and William reconciled. The King once more consulted his lay nobles, and, by their advice,[1443] he restored Anselm to his full favour, he cancelled all former causes of quarrel, he received him as archbishop and ghostly father, and gave him the fullest licence to exercise his office throughout the realm. One condition only seems to have been made; Anselm was to promise that he would observe the laws and customs of the realm and would defend them against all men.[1444] The promise was made, but with the express or implied reservation of duty to God.[1445] That was indeed the reservation which William most hated; but in his present frame of mind he may have brought himself to consent to it. Anselm came to Windsor, and was admitted by Their friendly discourse. the King to his most familiar converse in the sight of the lords and of the whole multitude that had come together.[1446] Cardinal Walter came in at the lucky moment, and was edified by the sight. He quoted the scripture, “Behold, how good and joyful it is brethren to dwell together in unity.” He sat down beside the friendly pair; he quoted other scriptures, and expressed his sorrow that he himself had not had any hand in the good work of bringing them together.

The wild bull and the feeble sheep thus seemed for a moment to pull together as friendly yokefellows. But a Norman king did not, in his character of wild bull, any more than in his character of lion, altogether cast aside his other character of fox. He, or Count Robert for him, had one shift left. Or it might almost seem that it was not the King’s own shift, but merely the device of flatterers who wished to win the royal favour by proposing it. Anselm asked to take the pallium from the King. Would not the Archbishop, for the honour of the King’s majesty, take the pallium from the King’s hand?[1447] Anselm had made no objection to receiving the staff from the King’s hand, for such was the ancient custom of England. But with the pallium the King had nothing to do; it belonged wholly to the authority of Saint Peter and his successor.[1448] He refuses. Anselm therefore refused to take the pallium from the King. The refusal was so clearly according to all precedent, the proposal the other way was such a manifest novelty, that nothing more was said about the matter. It was settled that, on a fixed day, the pallium should be laid on the altar of Christ in the metropolitan church, and that Anselm should take it thence, as from the hand of Saint Peter himself.[1449] The expression used is remarkable, as showing that the popular character of these assemblies had not utterly died out. Assent of the Assembly. “The whole multitude agreed.”[1450] They agreed most likely by a shout of Yea, Yea, rather than by any more formal vote; but in any case it was that voice of the people which Eadmer at least knew to be the voice of God.

Anselm absolves two repentant bishops. The Archbishop and his faithful comrade now set out for Canterbury. But he was called on to do some archiepiscopal acts by the way. They had hardly left Windsor when two bishops came to express their repentance for the crime of denying their metropolitan at Rockingham.[1451] Robert and Osmund. These were the ritualist Osmund of Salisbury, and Robert of Hereford, the friend of Wulfstan. It was believed that, besides the visit at the moment of his departure, the saint of Worcester had again appeared to Bishop Robert. He had warned him of divers faults in his life and in the administration of his diocese, giving him however good hopes if he mended his ways.[1452] Notwithstanding this voice from the dead, Robert had consented to the counsel and deed of them at Rockingham; he now came with Osmund to ask pardon. Anselm turned into a little church by the wayside, and gave them absolution. Then and there too he did another act of archiepiscopal clemency to a more distant suffragan. Wilfrith of Saint David’s restored. Wilfrith Bishop of Saint David’s had been—​we are not told when—​suspended for some fault—​we are not told what. Anselm now restored him to his episcopal office.[1453]

Anselm receives the pallium at Canterbury. June 10, 1095. The Archbishop went on to Canterbury, and there awaited the coming of the Roman Cardinal. On the appointed day, a Sunday in June, Bishop Walter came. He was met with all worship by the convents of the two monasteries, Christ Church and Saint Augustine’s, by a great body of clergy, and by a vast crowd of layfolk of both sexes. The Bishop of Albano bore the precious gift in a silver casket. As they drew near to Christ Church, Anselm, with bare feet, but in the full dress of his office, supported on either side by the suffragans who had come to the ceremony, met the procession. The pallium was laid on the altar; it was taken thence by the hand of Anselm, and reverently kissed by those who were near him.[1454] The Archbishop was then clothed with his new badge of honour; nothing was now wanting to his position. Already invested, consecrated, clothed with full temporal and spiritual powers within his own province by the King and the bishops of England, he now received the solemn recognition of the rest of the Western Church, in the person of its chief Pontiff.[1455] Anselm and England were again in full fellowship with the lawful occupier of the apostolic throne. Nothing now was wanting. The Archbishop, clad in his pallium, sang the mass. But, as at his consecration, men found an evil omen in part of the words of the service. The gospel of the day told of the man who made a great supper and bade many, but whose unthankful guests began to make excuse.[1456]

The reception of the pallium by Anselm was the last great ceremony done in the metropolitan church during this his first primacy; it was one of the very few great ceremonies done in the unaltered church of Lanfranc. Death of Bishop Robert of Hereford. June 26, 1095.And, if we are to understand that all the suffragans of Canterbury were present, one of them was soon taken away. Not many days after Anselm first put on the pallium, his late penitent, Bishop Robert of Hereford, left the world, to join for ever, as the charity of Worcester believed, the saintly friend whom he had twice wonderfully seen.[1457] The Legate stays in England. Cardinal Walter meanwhile stayed in England during the greater part of that year, and according to some accounts for some months of the year which followed. Notwithstanding the good life for which the Chronicler gives him credit, he seems, like other Romans, to have been open to the King’s special means of influence, and a foreign writer who had good means of knowing seems to speak of his general conduct in England as having greatly tended to bring his office into discredit.[1458] His commission from Pope Urban was a large one. Objects of Walter’s mission. Among other things, he had to look to the better payment of the Romescot,[1459] which, it will be remembered, had not always flowed regularly into the papal coffers even in the days of the Conqueror,[1460] and which of course did not flow at all in the days when no Pope was acknowledged in England. He had also to enquire generally into the state of things in England, and to consult with Anselm as to the means of reform. His dealings with Anselm. It is plain however from most independent testimonies that the Archbishop and the Cardinal were by no means suited to work together. Two letters from Anselm to Walter throw a singular light on some points in the story which are not recorded in any narrative. The personal intercourse of the two prelates was interfered with by a cause which we should hardly have looked for, namely, the occupation of Anselm in the duties of a military command. But it is plain that Anselm did not look for much good from any special intercourse between himself and the Cardinal. He writes that private conferences between the two were of no use; they could do nothing without the King’s consent and help.[1461] But Anselm seems to have taken a more constitutional view of the way by which the King’s consent and help was to be got than the Roman Legate was likely to take. Anselm says that they would meet to no purpose, except when the King, the bishops, and the nobles, were all near to be referred to.[1462] This reads very much as if Anselm was aware of some underhand practices between the King and the Legate, and had no mind to meet the emissary of Rome except when he himself would have the constitutional voice of the nation to back him. But as things stood at the moment, circumstances seem to have hindered the meeting for which Walter seems to have wished and Anselm not to have wished.

The King’s northern march. We are now in the thick of the revolt of Earl Robert of Mowbray, the tale of which will be told in full in the next chapter. The King was on his march northward to put down the revolt. King, Archbishop, and Legate, had parted as if the Legate at least was not to see either of the other two again in England.[1463] At such a time the desired conference could not be held; and Anselm himself was bound for the time within a very narrow local range. Anselm entrusted with the defence of Canterbury. While the King marched on towards Northumberland, the Archbishop was entrusted with the care of Canterbury, perhaps of Kent generally, against an expected Norman invasion.[1464] If Anselm’s conscience would have allowed him to take part in actual warfare, we can hardly fancy that he would have proved a captain to the liking of the Red King. Yet it does sometimes happen that a simple sense of duty will carry a man with credit through business the most opposite to his own temper and habits. It is more likely however that the duty really laid upon Anselm, as upon Wulfstan at Worcester, was rather to keep the minds of the King’s forces up to the mark by stirring exhortations, while the task of personally fighting and personally commanding was given to others. Still he was, both by the King’s word of mouth and by his writ and seal, entrusted with the care of the district,[1465] and he deemed it his duty not to leave Canterbury, except to go to any point that might be immediately threatened.[1466] Why Walter could not have come to Canterbury is not clear. Letters between Anselm and Walter. Anyhow personal communication was hindered, and to that hindrance we owe a letter which gives us a further insight into the almost incredible shamelessness of the King’s courtly bishops. Walter, it is plain, had been rebuking them for their conduct towards Anselm. Position of the bishops. They were open to ecclesiastical censure for denying their archbishop, and he blames Anselm himself for too great lenity towards them.[1467] Anselm pleads that they had returned to him and had promised obedience for the future.[1468] The others, it would seem, had followed the example of the Bishops of Hereford and Salisbury. But it comes out in the letter that some of these undutiful suffragans had taken up the strangest and most self-condemning line of defence. These men, cringing slaves of the King, who had carried every mean and insulting message from the King to the Primate, who had laid down the rule that neither bishops nor other men had anything to do but to follow the King’s will in all things, The bishops object to Anselm’s position. were not ashamed to plead that Anselm was no lawful archbishop, that he could claim no duty from them, simply because he had done what they had themselves done in a far greater degree. These faithful servants of King William were not ashamed to urge that their master and his kingdom had been in a state of schism, cut off from the Catholic Church and its lawful head, and that Anselm had been a partaker in the schism. He had received investiture from a schismatic King; he had done homage to that schismatic King, and had received consecration from schismatic bishops. In other words, they plead that Anselm is no lawful archbishop, because he had been consecrated by themselves.

A more shameless plea than this could hardly be thought of, but Anselm does not seem stirred by its shamelessness. His answer. He simply answers the doubt which was cast on his own appointment and consecration as calmly as if it had been started by some impartial outsider.[1469] Those who consecrated him were not schismatics; no judgement had cut them off from the communion of the Church. They had not cast off their allegiance to the Roman Pontiff; they all professed obedience to the Roman See; they had not in any way denied that Urban was the lawful Pope; they had simply, in the midst of the controversy which was going on, doubted whether it was their clear duty to receive him as such.[1470] That his own position was perfectly good was shown by the conduct of the Pope himself. Urban knew all that had happened between him and the King, together with all the circumstances of his consecration. So knowing, he had treated him as lawfully consecrated, and had sent him the pallium by Walter’s own hands.[1471] If such objections had any force, why had not Walter spoken of them before he, Anselm, had received the pallium?[1472] Question about the monks of Christ Church. Another passage in this letter would seem to imply that some complaint had been made as to Anselm’s dealings with the monks of his own church. The Cardinal asks Anselm to leave them in free possession of their goods.[1473] Anselm answers that he earnestly desires the peace and advantage of his monks, and with God’s help he will do all that lies in his power to settle everything for their advantage.[1474] Anselm and his monks seem to have been commonly on the best of terms. Still we seem here to see the beginnings of those disputes which grew into such terrible storms a hundred years later. The lands of the monks had, as we have seen,[1476] not been spared during the vacancy of the archbishopric. And it may be that some wrong had been again done to them when the King was molesting the Archbishop’s men during the time of truce. We heard not long ago of great complaints going up during that time; some of them may have taken the formal shape of an appeal to the Cardinal. Anselm’s reeves may have been no more scrupulous than the reeves of other men. Indeed we find a curious witness that it was so. The question was raised why Anselm, a monk and a special lover of monks, did not always live at Canterbury, among his monks.[1475] Several answers are given. Anselm and his tenants. The most remarkable is that his presence in his manors was needed to protect his poorer tenants from the oppression of his reeves.[1476] When such care was needed on behalf of the tenants, it is quite possible that the reeves might sometimes meddle wrongfully with the possessions of the monks also.

A time of peace for Anselm followed, though hardly a time of peace for England. Before the year was out the King had put down the revolt in Northumberland; Earl Robert of Mowbray was his prisoner. An expedition against the Welsh was less successful, and Scotland still remained under the king of her own choice. Gemót of Windsor and Salisbury. Christmas, 1095–1096. The Christmas Gemót, of which we shall have presently to speak at length, was a famous, and, what was not usual in our early assemblies, a bloody gathering. It was held at Windsor and was then adjourned to Salisbury; at the former place at least Anselm was present, and he had an opportunity of showing Christian charity to an enemy. Anselm attends the Bishop of Durham on his death-bed. January, 1096. At Windsor Bishop William of Durham sickened and died. His latter days are so closely connected with the fall of Earl Robert that they will be better spoken of elsewhere. It is enough to say here that his last hours were cheered by the ghostly help of the holy man against whom he had so deeply sinned. Meanwhile Anselm, comforted by the recall of his friend Baldwin,[1477] was doing his duty in peace; ruling, writing, exhorting, showing love to every living creature,[1478] ever and anon called on to discharge the special duties of his office. Consecration of bishops. In this interval he consecrated two bishops to sees within the realm. The churches of Worcester and Hereford were vacant by the deaths of the two friends Wulfstan and Robert. Both sees were filled in the year after they fell vacant. Were they filled after the usual fashion of the Red King’s day, or was Anselm, now, outwardly at least, in William’s full favour, able during this interval of peace to bring about some relaxation of the crying evil of this reign? There is no direct statement either way; we can judge only by what we know of the characters of the two men appointed. Neither of them, one would think, was altogether to the mind of Anselm. Samson Bishop of Worcester. In the place of the holy Wulfstan, the diocese of Worcester received as its bishop, and the monks of Worcester received as their abbot, a canon of Bayeux, Samson by name, a brother of Archbishop Thomas of York. The influence of the Northern Primate may perhaps be seen in the appointment of his kinsman to a see so closely connected with his own. Samson was one of the school of learned men with whom Odo—​it was his one redeeming merit—​had filled his church of Bayeux.[1479] He was as yet only in deacon’s orders, and he was possibly married, at least he is said to have been the father of the second archbishop Thomas of York.[1480] He seems to have been one of those prelates, who, without any claim to special saintship, went through their course at least decently. He was bountiful to all; to the monks of Worcester he did no harm—​some harm seems to have been looked for from a secular—​beyond suppressing their dependent monastery of Westbury.[1481] Of the new Bishop of Hereford we know more. Gerard Bishop of Hereford, Archbishop of York 1100. He was that Gerard who had helped to bring Cardinal Walter to England, one of the King’s clerks, not even in deacon’s orders, and a thorough time-server.[1482] We cannot help suspecting that his bishopric was not granted for nothing, whatever may have been the case with Samson at Worcester. Consecration of Gerard and Samson. June 6, 1096. The bishops-elect came to Anselm for consecration. He was then with his friend Gundulf at Lambeth, then a manor of the see of Rochester. In the chapel of the manor Anselm ordained them priests.[1483] The next day he consecrated them in the cathedral church of London, with the help of four of his suffragans, three of whom, Thomas of York, Maurice of London, and Gundulf of Rochester, had in different ways a special interest in the ceremony. The fourth was Herbert, described as of Thetford or Norwich. It was in the course of this year that he began his great work in his last-named see.[1484]

Anselm consecrates Irish bishops. This year too Anselm was able to show that his style of Patriarch of all the nations beyond the sea was not an empty title. It was now that he consecrated two bishops to sees in Ireland, Samuel of Dublin and Malchus of Waterford. They were both Irish by birth, but monks of English monasteries, Samuel of Saint Alban’s, Malchus of Winchester. They came with letters from the clergy and people of their sees, and from King Murtagh or Murchard, of whom we shall hear again, and who takes to himself the sounding title of King of Ireland. Both were consecrated by Anselm, Samuel at Winchester, Malchus at Canterbury.[1485] It was no new claim; two predecessors of Samuel had already been consecrated by Lanfranc.

§ 6. The Crusade and the Mortgage of Normandy.
November, 1095-March, 1097.

We must now for a while again turn our eyes to Normandy, but to Normandy mainly as affected by the most stirring scenes in the history of the world. Council of Piacenza. March 7, 1095. We have seen Urban at Piacenza; we have heard him there make his appeal to Western Christendom on behalf of the oppressed churches and nations of the East. Their cry came up then, as it has come up in our own ears; and it was answered in those days as one only among Christian nations has been found to answer it in ours. In those days the bulwark and queen of the Eastern lands still Appeal of the Emperor Alexios. stood untouched. The New Rome had not then to be won back for Christendom; it had simply to be preserved. By the prince who still kept on the unbroken succession of Constantine and Diocletian and Augustus the appeal was made which stirred the hearts of nations Council of Clermont. November 18, 1095.as the heart of one man. The letters of Alexios had been read at Piacenza; the great call from the mouth of the Western Pontiff was made in the ears of a vaster multitude still in the memorable assembly of Clermont. The first Crusade. But the tale of the first Crusade needs not to be told here. The writers of the time were naturally called away from what might seem the smaller affairs of their own lands to tell of the great struggle of two worlds. Some of the fullest accounts of the gathering and march of the crusaders are to be found in the writings to which we are in the habit of turning in every page for the history of England and Normandy.[1486] Our native Chronicler can spare only a few words, but those are most pithy words, to set forth the great stirring of the nations.[1487] Bearing of the crusade on our story. And in our present tale the holy war directly comes home to us, chiefly because so many men whom we have already heard of took a part in it. Above all, it places two of our chief actors before us in parts eminently characteristic of the two. We see how Duke Robert of Normandy went forth to show himself among the foremost and the worthiest in the struggle, and how King William of England took occasion of his brother’s zeal to gain his duchy by money wrung from English households and English churches. I have noticed elsewhere,[1488] as has been often noticed before, that the work of the first crusade was strictly the work of the nations, and of princes of the second rank. No king engaged in the first crusade. Dukes and counts there were many in the crusading army, but no king of the West joined in its march. The Western Emperor was at open war with the Pope who preached the crusade. The kings of Spain had their own crusade to wage. The kings of England and France were of all men in their kingdoms the least likely to join in the enterprise.The crusades a Latin movement. The kingdoms of the North were as yet hardly stirred by the voice of Urban. It is indeed plain that the whole movement was primarily a Latin movement. It is with a true instinct that the people of the East have from those days onward Name of Franks. given the name of Franks to all the Christians of the West. It is a curious speculation, and one at which I have already hinted elsewhere, what would have been the share of England in the crusades, if there had been no Norman Conquest.[1489] As it was, the part of the Teutonic nations in the crusades is undoubtedly secondary to that of the Latin nations. Germany takes no leading part till a later stage; Scandinavia takes no leading part at all; England is brought into the scene as an appendage to Normandy. Share of Normandy and Flanders. The English crusaders served under the banner of the Norman Duke.[1490] Among the secondary powers Flanders indeed appears among the foremost; but Flanders, a fief of the crown of Paris, was, as a power, though not as a people, more Latin than Teutonic. The elder Count Robert had won the honour of forestalling the crusade by sending help to the Eastern Emperor on his own account.[1491] Place chosen for the council. It was fittingly in a Latin city, in a Gaulish city, that Urban, himself by birth a Frenchman in the stricter sense,[1492] called the nations of the West to arms. But it was equally fitting that it should not be within the immediate dominion of a king who had no heart for the enterprise, of a king whose own moral offences it was one of the duties of the Pontiff and his council to denounce. Not in the dominions of any king, not in the dominions of any of the great dukes and counts who were in power on a level with kings, but in the land of the lowlier counts, not as yet dauphins, of Auvergne, the assembly met whose acts were to lead to the winning back of the Holy City for Christendom, but with which we are more directly concerned as causing William the Red to reign at Rouen as well as at Winchester.

Decrees of the council. The preaching of the crusade was not the only business of the great assembly at Clermont. A crowd of canons of the usual kind were passed against the usual abuses. Those abuses were not confined to England and Normandy. We are told that in all the lands on our side of the Alps—​and we may venture to doubt whether things were likely to be much better on the other side—​simony prevailed among all classes of the clergy, while the laity had taken to put away their wives and to take to themselves the wives of other men.[1493] The great example of this last fault was certainly King Philip of France, whose marriage or pretended marriage with Bertrada of Montfort, the wife of Count Fulk of Anjou, was one of the subjects of discussion at the council. All abuses of all these kinds were again denounced, Lay investiture forbidden. as they had often been denounced before, and were often to be denounced again. But what concerns us more immediately is the decree that no bishop, abbot, or clerk of any rank, should receive any ecclesiastical benefice from the hand of any prince or other layman.[1494] This struck straight at the ancient use both of England and of Normandy. It forbad what Gregory the Seventh had, if not allowed, at least winked at, during his whole reign, in the case of the common sovereign of those two lands.[1495] This decree, we cannot doubt, had an important bearing on the future position of Anselm. Sentences against Clement and the Emperor; against Philip and Bertrada. Wibert, calling himself Clement, was of course excommunicated afresh, along with the Emperor as his supporter. So were the King of the French and his pretended queen, for their adulterous marriage. So were all who should call them King and Queen or Lord and Lady, or should so much as speak to either of them for any other purpose except to rebuke their offences.[1496] The thunders of the Church could have found only one more fitting object than the reformation of this great moral scandal. But we see to what a height ecclesiastical claims had grown, when the council took on itself to declare the offenders deprived of their royal dignity and their feudal rights. Then followed the great discourse which called men to the Holy War. Urban preaches the crusades; his geography. Urban told how, of the three parts of the world, the infidels had rent away two from Christendom; how Asia and Africa were theirs—​a saying wholly true of Africa, and which, when the Turk held Nikaia, seemed even more true of Asia than it really was. Europe alone was left, our little portion. Of that, Spain had been lost—​the Almoravids had come in since our last glimpse of Spanish matters[1497]—​while most of the northern parts of Europe itself were still shrouded in heathen darkness. It needs some little effort to remember how true to the letter Urban’s religious geography was. The south-western peninsula was then, what the south-eastern is now, the land of Christian nations slowly winning back their own from infidel masters. And, before Swedish kings had crossed the Baltic, before Sword-brothers and Teutonic knights had arisen, before Russia had made her way northward, southward, and eastward, all north-eastern Europe was still heathen, while Scandinavia, Poland, and Hungary, were still recent conquests for the faith. Into the central strip of Christian land which lay between the heathen of the north and the Turks and Saracens of the south, east, and west, the enemy was now ready to cross. Urban called on his hearers to go forth and stop the way; and not a few of the men whose names have been famous, some whose names have been infamous, in our own story were among the foremost to go forth on the holy errand to which the voice of the Pontiff called them.

French and other crusaders. Those among the recorded crusaders whose names come more immediately home to Englishmen did not join the holy war till a later time. But not a few names which have been long familiar to us are to be found in the list of those who joined in the first regular expedition 1096. which set forth in the course of the year which followed the assembly at Clermont. Hugh brother of King Philip. Beyond the bounds of England and Normandy we may mark the names of Hugh surnamed the Great, the brother of King Philip, Count of Vermandois, Count of Valois in succession to the holy Simon,[1498] but who appears in our chief list of crusaders by the lowlier title of the Count of Crêpy. He went to the work, leaving his fiefs to his sons. His daughter Isabel or Elizabeth he gave in marriage to Count Robert of Meulan, by this time no very youthful bridegroom.[1499] Robert of Meulan marries his daughter. Among princes of greater power, but of less lofty birth, the foreign allies of the Norman house were represented by the younger Count Robert of Flanders, nephew of the Conqueror’s queen, and by Stephen Count of Chartres and Blois, husband of Robert of Flanders and Stephen of Chartres. the Conqueror’s noblest child, and father of a king of England and of a bishop of an English see more personally eminent than his royal brother. Rotrou of Mortagne and Walter of Saint Valery went from the border lands so closely connected with Norman history. In Everard of Puiset we hear the name of a house which was in the next century to become famous in England on the throne of Saint Cuthberht, the throne at that moment empty and widowed by the death of William of Saint-Calais. The brothers from Boulogne; And from a house most hateful to England, but which had received no small share of the spoils of England, went forth three brethren, one of whom was to show himself the worthiest, and to be placed the highest, in the crusading host. Eustace, Eustace of Boulogne, a prince beyond the sea but in England lord of lands scattered from Mendip to the Kentish and East-Saxon shores,[1500] marched with his two brothers, both of whom were to reign as kings in the Holy City. Baldwin, The part of Baldwin in the enterprise had been already foreshadowed in visions told in the hall of Conches.[1501] Visions were hardly needed to foretell the Godfrey of Lorraine. greatness of Godfrey of Lorraine, who had won his duchy as the prize of faithful service to the Emperor, but who was none the less ready to discharge the duties of a higher allegiance at the bidding of the Pontiff. From Normandy itself went, among a crowd of others, some of that younger generation which is beginning to supply the chief actors in our tale. Norman crusaders. Philip, the son of the lately deceased Roger of Montgomery, Ivo and Alberic the sons of the lately deceased Hugh of Grantmesnil,[1502] all went forth; so did Gerard of Gournay and his wife Eadgyth, he to die, she to come back for another marriage.[1503] And with them went another married pair whose names carry us back to earlier times. Ralph of Wader. The double traitor, Ralph of Wader, traitor to England, traitor to William, went forth with his valiant Emma, to do something to wipe out his old crimes by good service beneath the walls of Nikaia, and to leave his bones and hers in lands where his memory was not a memory of shame.[1504]

Duke Robert. We may be sure that among the crowd of men of every rank who were stirred by the voice of Urban none took up the cross with a more single mind than the Duke of the Normans. It was an appeal which spoke at once to the better side of him, an appeal which took him away from that land of his birth and dominion which was to him a land of such utter failure. As a son and a ruler, he had much to repent of; as a warrior, a worthy object of warfare was for the first time opened to him. His need of money. But how was he to go, at least how was he to go as became the prince of a duchy which under other princes had been so great? His hoard was empty; half his barons were in practical rebellion; his brothers held no small part of his duchy. He is driven to apply to William. He had no resource but one, to seek help, at whatever cost, from the brother who could command the wealth of England, even though the price should be nothing short of yielding the whole of Normandy to him who already held a part. It is needless to say that King William of England had no thought of going on the crusade himself. Position of William. He was not indeed hindered, as the Emperor and the King of the French were hindered, by actually lying under the censures of the Church. But he was as little likely as either of them to gird on his sword in the great quarrel. The voice which stirred the heart of Robert to the quick found no kindred chord to strike on in the mocking soul of Rufus. The enemy of God felt no call to march in the cause of God. He was not likely to spend his treasures or to display his chivalry in warfare which could not bring him any direct increase of wealth or power. It was rather for him to stay at home, and to reap what he could in the way of either wealth or power at the cost of those whose madness led them on errands which could bring in neither. Palestine was far away and hard to win. Normandy, so much as was left of Normandy, so much as was not already his own, was near and was easy to win with his own special arms. William Rufus was not at all likely to turn aside from any offer of the kind which Robert might make to him.

Mission of Abbot Jeronto. The brothers were however at war, and the services of a mediator were needed to open negotiations between them. The Pope becomingly undertook the office, and sent a prelate from the more distant parts of Gaul, Jeronto, Abbot of Saint Benignus at Dijon, to make peace between the King and the Duke. We are told that Walter of Albano’s greediness and subserviency to the King had brought the name of Legate, and of Rome itself, into discredit. Jeronto was therefore trusted with a commission to make an appeal to William, such as Walter had clearly never made, about the evils which were allowed to go on under his government.[1505] Of the two branches of this commission one prospered better than the other. Jeronto rebukes William. At first, we are told, the Abbot’s righteous boldness and plainness of speech seemed to have made an effect on the King, while it raised general hopes of reform among the nation.[1506] But the King or his counsellors knew how to deal, if not with Abbot Jeronto, at least with those in greater authority. He had, so the story runs, sent a messenger of his own to the Pope—​most likely during his sojourn in northern Gaul, of which we shall hear again—​carrying with him the weighty argument of ten marks of the purest gold.[1507] Trusting to this means of gaining his end, the King kept the Abbot of Dijon with him, till the Easter of the next year. The Pope sends his nephew. Easter, April 13, 1096. By that time the King’s messenger came back, bringing with him a commissioner from the Pope, a layman, the sister’s son of Urban, by whose word of mouth it would seem the Abbot’s commission was cancelled and all questions were adjourned till the next Christmas.[1508] When the next Christmas came, the King was not in England, to attend to ecclesiastical reform or to anything else.

Peace between Robert and William. The other object for which Jeronto came to England was fully carried out, whether Jeronto himself had any real hand in bringing it about or not. Peace was made between the Duke of the Normans and the King of the English. Normandy pledged to William. 1096. In order that Robert might have money to go to the crusade, the duchy of Normandy was pledged to his brother for a sum of ten thousand marks. The transaction was not a cession or a sale; it was a mere pledge. The duchy was to pass to William merely for a season, for three years, or for so long a time as Robert should be away. If the Duke should come back, and should find himself able to pay the money, the duchy was to be his again.[1509] Still William’s possession seemed likely to be a lasting one. There seemed but small chance of Robert’s ever coming back, and smaller still of his coming back with ten thousand marks to spare out of the spoils of the infidels. If he ever did come so laden, William Rufus doubtless trusted that, by some means either of force or of fraud, his brother’s restoration to his duchy might be either evaded or withstood.

The price not large. The price for which Normandy was thus handed over does not, when compared with other payments of the time, seem a large one. It was not very much higher than the sums which Herbert Losinga was said to have paid for a bishopric for himself and an abbey for his father.[1510] The price to be paid for at least a three years’ possession of all Normandy was not much more than three times the sum which courtiers at least had looked on as a reasonable contribution for an Archbishop of Canterbury to make towards a single Norman expedition.[1511] Heavy taxation to raise the money. Yet the sum which was now to be paid is spoken of as a drain upon the whole kingdom. Rufus had no thought of paying the money out of any rightful revenues of the crown or out of any stores which he had already wrung from his people. Something was to be wrung from them yet again for the special object of the moment. The time would seem to have been the summer of the year which followed the gathering at Clermont, the year which in England began with the death of Bishop William of Durham and the frightful punishment of Count William of Eu. Whitsun Assembly, 1096. The matter may have been discussed at the Whitsun Assembly of that year, of which we have no record. At any rate a heavy tax was laid on the whole kingdom; we may be sure that the Red King took the occasion to wring more out of the land than the actual sum which he had to pay to his brother. Otherwise, except on the view that everything had been taken already, the payment of a sum less than seven thousand pounds could hardly have weighed on the whole kingdom as this benevolence is said to have weighed. Extortion of the benevolence. For a benevolence it was, at least in form; men were invited to give or to lend; but we gather that some more stringent means was found for those who failed to give or to lend willingly.[1512] The English Chronicler sends up his wail for the heavy time that it was by reason of the manifold gelds, and he tells us how, as so often happened, hunger followed in the wake of the extortioner.[1513] Other writers describe the King as demanding loans and gifts from his prelates, earls, and other great men. Oppression of tenants. The great lay lords, we are told, raised their share by the plunder of the knights who held fiefs of them and of the churls who tilled their demesne lands.[1514] It is the cry of these last that we hear through the voice of the Chronicler. Protest of the prelates. The bishops and abbots are said to have made a protest, a thing which almost passes belief on the part of the bishops of the Red King’s day. When called on for their shares, they are said to have answered, in the spirit, or at least in the words, of Ælfheah, that they could not raise the money by any means save the oppression of the wretched tillers of the earth.[1515] Judged by the conduct of the two classes at Rockingham, the prelates and the lay barons seem to have changed places. Comparison of the prelates and the lay lords. It is the churchmen now who have the conscientious scruple. Yet the difference is not wonderful. The barons were used to general havoc and violence of every kind; what they scrupled at was the deliberate perversion of formal justice to crush a single man who claimed their reverence on every ground, official and personal. The prelates, on the other hand, might be ready for any amount of cringing and cowardice, and might yet shrink from being made the agents of direct oppression in their own persons. Anyhow another means of payment was suggested by the cunning agents of the impious King. It may have been the future Bishop of Durham who answered, “Have ye not chests full of the bones of dead men, but wrought about with gold and silver?”[1516] Plunder of the churches.In this strait the churchmen took the sacrilegious hint. The most sacred objects were not spared; books of the gospels, shrines, crucifixes, were spoiled of their precious ornaments, chalices were melted down, all the gifts of the bounty of the old time were seized on, not to relieve the poor, but to fill the coffers of the King with the money that was needed for his ambitious schemes.[1517]

In all this we have learned to suspect some exaggeration; extreme measures taken at some particular places must have been spoken of as if they had been universal throughout the land. In one case, and that the case of the highest personal interest, we get the details, and they are a good deal less frightful than the general picture. Contribution of Anselm. Among the other great men of the land, the Archbishop of Canterbury was called on for his contribution. His friends advised compliance with the request, and he himself did not complain of it as unreasonable.[1518] But Anselm had no great store of money in hand. He consulted the Bishops of Winchester and Rochester, Walkelin and Gundulf, and by their advice he borrowed a sum of money from the hoard of his monks, who seem to have been better provided than himself. He mortgages the manor of Peckham to his monks. The convent, by a vote of the majority, agreed to help the Archbishop with a present sum of two hundred pounds, in return for which Anselm made over to them for seven years his manor of Peckham, which brought in thirty pounds yearly. The money supplied by the monks, together with what Anselm could raise himself, made up a sum which seems to have satisfied the King; at least no complaint or dispute is recorded.[1519]

The ten thousand marks were raised and paid. We may well believe that more than the ten thousand marks were raised; but we may be sure that not a penny more than his bargain entitled him to found its way into the hands of Duke Robert. In September the whole business was finished. Conference between William and Robert. King William crossed the sea, and met his brother in a conference held under the mediation of the King of the French, at some point of the border-land of the Vexin, at Pontoise or at Chaumont, places of which we shall have to speak again.[1520] The money was paid to the Duke; the duchy was handed over to the King, Robert sets forth on the Crusade. September, 1096.
His companions, Robert, Stephen, and Odo. and Robert of Normandy set forth for the holy war. He went in company with his cousin the Count of Flanders and his brother-in-law the Count of Chartres. And with them went a kinsman of an elder generation, whose long history, though not specially long life, is now drawing to an end. Bishop Odo of Bayeux could not bear to stay in Normandy again to become a subject of the nephew to whom he had surrendered himself at Rochester.[1521] He joined the forces of his elder nephew, and with him went the eloquent Bishop of Evreux, Gilbert, who had preached the funeral sermon of the Conqueror.[1522] Conduct of Robert.The Duke on his armed pilgrimage showed new powers. He could now, often but not always, overcome his love of idleness and pleasure, and whenever the moment of real danger came, he was ever foremost, not only in the mere daring of the soldier, but in the skill and counsel of the commander.[1523] Another hand has traced his course with all vividness, but with less sympathy than one could have wished for the general objects of the holy war.[1524] A few points in Robert’s eastern career are all that need now be touched on. He and his companions passed by Lucca, and there received the blessing of the orthodox Pope Urban.[1525] Robert at Rome. They went on to what should have been Urban’s see, and found how truly the English Chronicler spoke when he said that Urban nothing had of the settle at Rome. When they went to pay their devotions in the basilica of Saint Peter, they met with much such entertainment from the followers of the schismatic Clement as the monks of Glastonbury had met with from their abbot Thurstan.[1526] His reception by Roger of Apulia. They reached southern Italy, now a duchy of the house of Hauteville, and the reigning Duke Roger, son of the renowned Wiscard, is said to have welcomed his natural lord in the head of the ducal house of his ancestral land.[1527]

At the time of their coming, Duke Roger, his uncle Count Roger of Sicily, who had won back a realm for Christendom, and his brother Bohemond—​Mark Bohemond we find him accurately called[1528]—​were warring Siege of Amalfi. against the famous merchant town of Amalfi,[1529] rebellious in their eyes against the Norman Duke, in its own eyes loyal to the Eastern Emperor. Bohemond takes the cross. At the coming of the crusaders Bohemond took the cross, and rent up a goodly cloak into crosses for his followers.[1530] Count Roger was left almost alone to besiege Amalfi, and he went back to his own island. The crusaders winter in Apulia. 1096–1097. Yet, after this outburst of pious zeal, those who were highest in rank among the warriors of the cross tarried to spend a merry winter in that pleasant land, while many of the lower sort, already weary of the work, turned aside and went back to their homes.[1531] The Norman prelates, from whatever motives, crossed to the great island of the Mediterranean, a trophy of Norman victory only second to the yet greater island of the Ocean. There, under the rule of the Great Count of Sicily, the whilom Earl of Kent might see how conquerors of his own blood could deal with the men of conquered lands after another sort from that in which he had dealt with the men of his English earldom. There, in the happy city of the threefold speech,[1532] the Bishop of Bayeux might mark, in the great temple of Palermo, once church, then mosque, and now church once more, those forms of art of the Greek and the Saracen, which had lost in grace, if they had gained in strength, in taking the shapes which he had himself followed in his great work in his own Saxon city. Odo dies at Palermo. February, 1097. There the Earl and Bishop at last ended a career of which Kent and Bayeux could tell so different a tale. Gilbert of Evreux discharged the last corporal work of mercy for his fiercer brother; and the tomb of Odo of Bayeux arose within the walls of the great church of Palermo, soon to boast itself the head of the Sicilian realm.[1533] And, after all the changes of later days, amid the small remains which the barbarians of the Renaissance have left us of the church of English Walter, we may, even beside the tomb of the Wonder of the World, stop for a moment to remember that the brother of our Conqueror, the scourge of our land, found his last resting-place so far away alike from Bayeux, from Senlac, and from Rochester.

Duke Robert crosses to Dyrrhachion. The Bishop went no further than Palermo; the Duke went on by the course which the warfare of the Apulian Normans had lately made familiar. They entered the Eastern world at Dyrrhachion, where the valour of Normans and Englishmen had been lately proved.[1534] Use of the Bulgarian name. They passed, in the geography of our authors, through Bulgaria;[1535] that is, they passed through those Illyrian and Macedonian lands where the rule of Byzantium had again displaced the rule of Ochrida, but to which the name of the people whom Samuel had made terrible still clave, as in the language of fact, though not of diplomacy, it cleaves still. They reached Thessalonica, they reached Constantinople, and wondered at the glories of the New Rome.[1536] Robert does homage to Alexios. There, as in duty bound, they pledged their faith to the truest heir of the Roman majesty, whose lost lands they were to win back from the misbelievers. Before the throne of Alexios Robert the Norman knelt; he placed his hands between the Imperial hands, and arose the sworn liegeman of Augustus.[1537] The homage of Harold to Robert’s father was not more binding than the homage of Robert to Alexios; but an English earl and a Norman crusader were measured in those days by different standards. The host passed on; at Nikaia, at Antioch, at Jerusalem, Robert was ever foremost in fight and in council. Yet the old spirit was not wholly cast out. Robert at Laodikeia. When the English Warangians at Laodikeia hailed their joint leaders in the son of their Conqueror and in the heir of their ancient kings,[1538] the pleasures of Asia, like the pleasures of Apulia, were too much for the Duke, and it needed the anathemas of the Church to call him back from his luxurious holiday to the stern work that was before him.[1539] Before the walls of Jerusalem he found a strange ally. Hugh of Jaugy joins the crusades. Hugh of Jaugy, one of the murderers of Mabel, after his long sojourn among the infidels, greeted his natural prince, returned to his allegiance, and by his knowledge of the tongue and ways of those whom he forsook, did useful, if not honourable, service.[1540] A worthier comrade was a noble and valiant Turk, who of his own accord came to seek for baptism and for admission to share the perils of the pilgrims.[1541] The Norman Duke ever appears as the fellow-soldier of his kinsman and namesake of Flanders; the two Roberts are always side by side. The “rope-dancers” at Antioch. It is needless to say that neither of them shared in that shameful descent from the walls of Antioch which gained for some of the heroes of Normandy the mocking surname of the rope-dancers.[1542] It is hard to find any absolutely contemporary authority for the statement which was very soon afloat, Robert said to have refused the crown of Jerusalem. that the crown of Jerusalem was offered to Robert and was refused by him.[1543] Robert could not have been as Godfrey; but we can believe that his career would have been more honourable in a Syrian than in a Norman dominion. He was at least one of the first to stand on the rescued walls of the Holy City;[1544] and in the fight for the newly-won realm against the Fatimite Caliph, it was not merely by cutting down the Saracen standard-bearer with his own hand, but by a display of really skilful tactics, that Robert did much to win the day for Christendom.[1545] His return. He then turned his face towards Constantinople and towards Apulia, and we shall meet him again in his own land.

William takes possession of Normandy. As soon as Robert had set forth for Jerusalem, William took possession of the duchy of Normandy—​in modern phrase, he took upon him its administration—​without opposition from any side. There was indeed no side, except the side of mere anarchy, from which opposition could come. It was perhaps a little humiliating for a great duchy to be handed over from one prince to another by a personal bargain, like a house or a field. But there was no practical ground for opposing William’s entry. All classes, save mere robbers, lordly or vulgar, must have had enough of Robert. And now Robert was gone, and in going, he had handed them over to the prince for whom many of them had fought or intrigued, and who already held some of the most important points of the country. Whether it was good or bad for England and Normandy to have the same ruler, it was clearly a gain for all Normandy to have only one ruler. In one sense indeed this object was not even now attained. William’s first step was to dismember the duchy which he had bought. Grants to Henry. Henry, it will be remembered, had been left in Normandy a year and a half before, and had been, perhaps ever since, acting in William’s interests against Robert. He now received the reward of his services in a noble fief indeed. He became again acknowledged Count of the whole Côtentin. And to his peninsular dominion he was allowed to add the whole Bessin, except the city of Bayeux and the castle and town of Caen.[1546] The spot which contained the foundations of his parents, the tombs of his parents, William Rufus could not bring himself to give up, even to reward the faithful service of a brother.

But for Henry, in full friendship with his brother, to hold a corner of Normandy as a fief of his brother was a partition of Normandy of quite another kind from such a partition as had been when William, as Robert’s enemy, hemmed in Robert in his capital. Rule of William in Normandy. There can be no doubt that the exchange from Robert to William was an unspeakable gain to the duchy. During the remainder of the life of Rufus Normandy had a stern master; but, after the anarchy of Robert, what the land most needed was a master of almost any kind. Synod of Rouen. 1096. The kind of work which was needed is shown in the acts of a synod which had been gathered at Rouen by Archbishop William, while Robert still nominally ruled, almost immediately after the greater gathering at Clermont. Three Norman bishops had been at Clermont in person, Odo of Bayeux, Gilbert of Evreux, and Serlo of Seez. They brought back the decrees of the council to their brethren, who forthwith assembled to accept and enforce in their own province all that had been ordered at Clermont for the Church and the world in general. Truce of God confirmed. They confirmed the Truce of God[1547] with all its enactments on behalf of the more useful and helpless members of society. They drew up an oath to be taken under pain of anathema by all men, which bound them to observe the Truce in their own persons, and to give the help of the temporal arm to the efforts of the ecclesiastical powers against those who should break it.[1548] In those days at least peace could be had only through war, and the Truce of God itself became the occasion of more fighting against those who scorned its wholesome checks. Other decrees. Other anathemas were pronounced against robbers, false moneyers, and buyers of stolen goods, against those who gathered themselves together in castles for purposes of plunder, and against the lords who sheltered such men in their castles. Such castles were put under an interdict; no Christian rite might be done in them.[1549] In going on to pronounce further anathemas against the invaders of ecclesiastical rights, against the unlawful occupiers of Church lands, against laymen who claimed to have a right in tithes and other Church dues,[1550] the synod uses a formula which shows how keenly Normandy felt the difference between the great William and his eldest son. The days of King William. What the days of the Confessor were in England, the days of the Conqueror were in his own duchy. The synod decreed that all churches should enjoy their goods and customs as they had been in the time of King William, and that no burthens should be laid upon them but such as King William had allowed.[1551]

It would be too much to think that William the Red at once brought back the Norman duchy to the state in which it had been in those golden days of William the Great. And it is still less needful to stop to prove that even the days of William the Great would not have seemed golden days as compared with the state of any well-governed land in our own time. But there can be no doubt that the coming of the new ruler wrought a real reform. And a reform was grievously needed. Small results of the synod. We read that very little came of the well-intentioned decrees of the synod. The bishops, Odo among them, did what they could—​it is Odo’s last recorded act in the lands with which we have to deal, and it is something that he leaves us in the shape of a reformer and not in that of an oppressor. But very little came of the efforts of the prelates. The Duke did nothing to help them—​his mind was perhaps too full of the crusade—​and things were at the moment of William’s coming in almost greater confusion than ever.[1552] William’s rule in Normandy. He at least gave the land the advantage of a strong rule; he kept the luxury of oppression to himself. The lesser scourges of mankind were thoroughly put down. We hear no more of that private warfare which had torn the land in pieces in the days of Robert. William recalled many of the lavish grants of Robert; what his father had held, he would hold.[1553] Even in ecclesiastical matters Rufus is not painted in such dark colours in Normandy as he is in England. His appointments to prelacies. He is not charged with keeping ecclesiastical benefices vacant in order that he might enjoy their revenues. He found two great abbeys vacant, those of Jumièges and Saint Peter-on-Dives; and he at once supplied them with abbots. They were abbots of his own choosing, but it is not said that they bought their places.[1554] Tancard Abbot of Jumièges. 1096–1101. Tancard, the new abbot of Jumièges, may lie under some suspicion, as a few years after he was deposed on account of a shameful quarrel with his monks.[1555] Saint Peter’s was vacant, not by the death, but by the deposition and banishment—​unjust we are told—​of its abbot Fulk. Etard Abbot of Saint Peter’s. 1096–1107. William appointed a monk of Jumièges called Etard or Walter, who ruled well, we are told, for eleven years, till Fulk came back with letters from the Pope, on which his successor cheerfully made way for him again.[1556] No Norman bishopric was vacant at the time of William’s entry, nor did any become vacant for more than a year. February, 1098. Then in the midst of events which are to be told hereafter, the news came that the throne of Bayeux was vacant by the death of Odo far away at Palermo. William at once bestowed the staff on Turold the brother of Hugh of Evermouth, seemingly the same Hugh who figures in the legend of Hereward as his son-in-law and successor.[1557] Turold Bishop of Bayeux. 1098–1195. This prelate sat for seven years, and then, for reasons of his own, gave up his see, and became a monk at Bec.[1558]

§ 7. The Last Dispute between William and Anselm.
1097.

Christmas, 1096–1097. The year which followed William’s acquisition of Normandy was a busy year in many ways. The King passed the winter in the duchy; the greater part of the year he spent in England. He was largely occupied with the affairs of Wales and Scotland, and in this year came the last dispute between the King and the Archbishop, and the first departure of Anselm from England. Since their reconciliation at Windsor two years before, there had been no open breach between them. State of Wales at the end of 1096. The first difference arose out of the events of the Welsh war. At the end of the year which saw William master of Normandy, he seemed to have wholly lost his hold on Wales. Except Glamorgan and the one isolated castle of Pembroke, the Britons seemed to have won back their whole land.[1559] The affairs of Wales brought the King Easter, April 5, 1097.
William comes to England. back from Normandy, and he designed to hold the Easter Gemót in its usual place at Winchester. Stress of weather however hindered him from reaching England in time for the festival. He landed at Arundel on Easter eve, and thence went to Windsor, where the Assembly Assembly of Windsor.was therefore held, somewhat later than the usual time.[1560] The meeting was followed by a great expedition into Wales, Seeming conquest of Wales.and by a submission of the country which events a few months later proved to be very nominal indeed.[1561] But there was at last an apparent success. William seemed to be greater than ever; he had, by whatever means, won Normandy and recovered Wales. And, more than this, the beginnings of his Norman government had been good; he had thus far shown himself a better nursing-father of the Church in his duchy than his brother Robert had done. Good hopes for the future. A hope therefore arose in many minds that the days of victory and peace might be days of reformed government in England also, and that King and Primate might be able to join in some great measure for the improvement of discipline and manners.[1562] In this hope they were disappointed, as they were likely to be, especially if they reckoned on any long time of peace with the Britons. But the first renewed breach between the King and the Archbishop arose from quite a new cause. William complains of Anselm’s contingent to the Welsh war. When the King came back from the Welsh war, he sent a letter to Anselm, angrily complaining of the nature of the Archbishop’s military contingent to his army. The knights whom Anselm had sent had been so badly equipped and so useless in war that he owed him no thanks for them but rather the contrary.[1563] This story is commonly told as if Anselm had been the colonel of a regiment whose men were, through his fault, utterly unfit for service. Anselm had indeed, as we have seen, once held somewhat of a warlike command, but it had been of a passive kind; Estimate of the complaint. he was certainly not expected to go to the Welsh war himself. In truth the complaint is against knights; doubtless, if the knights were bad, their followers would be worse; but it is of knights that the King speaks. Position of the Archbishop’s knights. If I rightly understand the relation between the Archbishop and his military tenants, these knights were men who held lands of the archbishopric by the tenure of discharging all the military service to which the whole estates of the archbishopric were bound.[1564] It was doubtless the business of their lord to see that the service was paid, that the proper number of knights, each with his proper number of followers, went to the royal standard. But one can hardly think that it was part of the Archbishop’s business to look into every military detail, as if he had been their commanding officer. It was not Anselm’s business to find their arms and accoutrements; they held their lands by the tenure of finding such things for themselves. The King was dissatisfied with the archiepiscopal contingent, and, from his point of view, most likely not without reason. Anselm’s troops might be expected to be among the least serviceable parts of the army. Gentlemen and yeomen of Kent—​we may begin to use those familiar names—​could have had no great experience of warfare; there were no private wars to keep their hands in practice; they could not be so well fitted for war in general or specially for Welsh war, either as the picked mercenaries of the King or as the tried followers of the Earl of Chester and the Lord of Glamorgan. William, as a military commander, might naturally be annoyed at the poor figure cut by the Archbishop’s knights; but there is every reason to think that, in point of law, his complaint against the Archbishop was unjust. It seems to be shown to be so by the fact that the charge which the King brought against Anselm on this account was one which in the end he found it better to drop. Anselm summoned to the King’s court. But he now bade Anselm to be ready to do right to him, according to the judgement of his court, whenever he should think fit to summon him for that end.[1565]

Anselm’s distress. Anselm seems to have been thoroughly disheartened by this fresh blow. And yet it was no more than what he had been looking for. Over and over again he had said that between him and William there could be no lasting peace, that under such a king as William there could be no real reform.[1566] And the new grievance was a personal one; whether the charge was right or wrong, it had nothing to do with the interests of the Church or with good morals; it simply touched his relations to the King as his temporal lord. Since the meeting at Windsor two years before, though William had given Anselm no kind of help in his plans, he does not seem to have openly thwarted them, except, as seems implied throughout, by still refusing his leave for the holding of a synod. His weariness of England. At the same time there had been quite enough to make Anselm thoroughly weary of England and her King and of everything to do with her. And the visits of the Cardinal of Albano and the Abbot of Saint Benignus had done Anselm no good. Change in Anselm’s feelings. From this time we mark the beginning of a certain change in him which, without in any way morally blaming him, we must call a change for the worse. Left to himself, he seems not to have had the faintest scruple as to the customs which were established alike in England and in Normandy. He was unwilling to accept the metropolitan office at all; but he made no objection to the particular way of receiving it which was the use of England and of Normandy. He had, without scruple or protest, received the staff of Canterbury from the son as he had received the staff of Bec from the father. His wish to go to Rome to receive the pallium was fully according to precedent, and it was only the petty captiousness of the King that turned it into a matter of offence. His yearnings towards Rome. But the mere talking about Rome and the Pope which the discussion had led to was not wholesome; and everything that had since happened had tended to put Rome and the Pope more and more into Anselm’s head. The coming of the Legate, the rebukes of the Legate, even the base insinuations of his undutiful suffragans against the validity of his appointment, would all help to bring about a certain morbid frame of mind, a craving after Rome and its Bishop as the one centre of shelter and comfort among his troubles. The very failure of Walter’s mission, the unworthy greediness and subserviency into which the Legate had fallen, the utter break-down of the later mission of Abbot Jeronto, would all tend the same way. Anselm would hold, not that the Pope was corrupt, but that none but the Pope in his own person could be trusted. He would have nothing more to do with his unfaithful agents; he would go himself to the fountain-head which could not fail him. And he to whom he would go was not simply the Pope, any Pope; it was Urban the Second, the reformer, the preacher of the crusade. Personal position of Urban. Since Anselm’s work had begun, the world had been filled with the personal fame of the Pontiff in whose cause he had striven. In the same council which had stirred the common heart of Christendom Urban had denounced those customs of England to which Anselm had conformed in his own appointment and which he had promised to defend against all men. The rules laid down at Clermont against the acceptance of ecclesiastical benefices from lay hands not only condemned his own appointment, made before those decrees were issued; it condemned also the consecrations to the sees of Hereford and Worcester which he had himself performed since they had been issued. Amid the reign of unlaw, amid the constant breaches of discipline, the frightful sins against moral right, which he had daily to behold and which he was kept back from duly censuring, with none to support him outwardly, none but a few chosen ones to understand his inward thoughts, it is not wonderful if distant Rome seemed to him a blessed haven of rest from the troubles and sorrows of England. Let him flee thither at any cost, and have peace. Let him seek the counsel of the ghostly superior to whom he looked up in faith, and to whom he had been so faithful; to him he would open his soul; from him he would receive guidance, perhaps strength, in a course which was beset with so many difficulties on all sides. Ideal aspect of Rome. Rome, seen far away, looked pure and holy; its Pontiff seemed the one embodiment of right and law, the one shadow of God left upon earth, in a world of force and falsehood and foulness of life, a world where the civil sword was left in the hands of kings like William and Philip, and where an Emperor like Henry still wielded it in defiance of anathemas. At such a distance he would not see that the policy of Popes had already learned to be even more worldly and crooked than that of kings and emperors. He had not learned, what Englishmen had already learned, that gold was as powerful in the counsels of the Holy See as ever it was in the closet of the Red King. The Pope’s agents and messengers might take bribes; the Pope himself, the holy College around him, would never sink to such shame. The majestic and attractive side of the Roman system was all that would present itself to his eyes. He would flee to the blessed shelter and be at peace. He had had enough of the world of kings and courts, the world where men of God were called on to send men to fight the battles of this life, and were called in question if swords were not sharp enough or if horses were not duly trained and caparisoned. Weary and sick at heart, he would turn away from such a scene and from its thankless duties; he would, for a while at least, leave the potsherds of the earth to strive with the potsherds of the earth; he would go where he might perhaps win leave to throw aside his burthen, or where, failing that, he might receive renewed strength to bear it.

New position taken by Anselm. In all this we can thoroughly enter into Anselm’s feelings, nor are we called upon to pronounce any censure upon either his feelings or his conduct. But it is plain that he was now taking up a wholly different position from that which he had taken at Rockingham, a position in which he could not expect to meet with, and in which he did not meet with, the same support which he had met with at Rockingham. At Gillingham and at Rockingham Anselm did nothing which could be fairly construed as a defiance of the law or an appeal to the Pope against any lawful authority of the King. All that he did was to ask the King’s leave to go for the pallium, that is to do what all his predecessors had done, to obey what might be as fairly called a custom of the realm as any other. Aspect of his conduct. In the discussions which now began, his conduct would, to say the least, have, in the eyes of any but the most friendly judges, another look. He was asking leave to go to Rome, not to discharge an established duty, but, as it might be not unfairly argued, simply to gratify a caprice of his own. He might rightly ask for such leave; but it rested with the King’s discretion to grant or to refuse it, and no formal wrong would be done to him by refusing it. And to ask leave to go and consult the Pope, not because of any meddling with his spiritual office, not on account of any religious or ecclesiastical difficulty, but because the King had threatened him with a suit, just or unjust, in a purely temporal matter, had very much the air of appealing from the King’s authority to the Pope. We must remember throughout that Anselm nowhere makes the claim which Odo and William of Saint-Calais made before him, which Thomas of London made after him, to be exempt from temporal jurisdiction on the ground of his order. As such claims had no foundation in English law, neither was it at all in the spirit of Anselm to press them. All that he wanted was to be allowed to seek help in his troubles in the only quarter where he believed that help might be found. Causes of his loss of general support. But the petition for leave to seek it was put in a form and under circumstances which might well have awakened some distrust, some unwillingness, in minds far better disposed towards him than that of the Red King. We may not for a moment doubt the perfect singlemindedness of Anselm, his perfect righteousness from the point of view of his own conscience. But we cannot wonder that, in the new controversy, he failed to have the barons and people of England at his side, as he had had them on the day of trial at Rockingham and on the day of peace-making at Windsor.

The belief that the supposed season of peace might be a season of reform had been shared by Anselm himself. Anselm’s continued demands of reform. He had more than once urged the King on the subject; but William had always answered that he was too busy dealing with his many enemies to think about such matters.[1567] Such an answer was a mere put-off; yet a more discouraging one might have been given. Anselm had therefore fully made up his mind to make the most of this special opportunity, and to make yet one more urgent appeal to the King to help him in his work.[1568] He determines not to answer the new summons.And now, at the meeting where he trusted to make this attempt, he was summoned to appear as defendant on a purely temporal charge. To that charge he determined to make no answer. But surely the reason which is given is rather the reason of Eadmer afterwards than of Anselm at the time. Working of the King’s court. Anselm is made to say that in the King’s court everything depended on the King’s nod, and that his cause would be examined in that court, without law, without equity, without reason.[1569] He had not found it so at Rockingham, nor did he find it so now. But we can quite understand that, with his mind full of so much greater matters, he might think it better to let his judges settle matters as they might, for or against him, in questions as to horses and weapons and military training. The worst that could happen would be another payment of money.[1570] Anselm believed that the charge was a mere pretence, devised simply to hinder him from making the appeal to the King which he designed.[1571] He therefore made up his mind to make no answer to the summons, and to let the law, if there was any law in the matter, take its course.[1572] When he looked around at the spoliation of the Church, at the evils of all kinds which had crept in through lack of discipline, he feared the judgement of God on himself, if he did not make one last effort.[1573] His heart indeed sank when he saw that, of all the evil that was done, the King either was himself the doer or took pleasure in them that did it. He determines on a last effort. But he would strive once more; if his last effort failed, he would appeal to a higher spiritual power than his own; he would see what the authority and judgement of the Apostolic See could do.[1574]

Whitsun Gemót. May 24, 1097. The Whitsun festival came, and Anselm went to the Assembly. The place of meeting is not mentioned; according to usage it would be Westminster. Though the suit was hanging over Anselm, he went, not as a defendant in a suit, but as a chief member of the Gemót. He seems to have been graciously received by the King; Anselm favourably received; his last appeal. at least we hear of him at the royal table, and he had opportunities of private access to the royal ear. Of these chances he did not fail to take advantage for his purpose; but all was in vain; nothing at all tending to reform was to be got out of William Rufus.[1575] In this way the earlier days of meeting, the days of the actual festival, were spent. Then, as usual, the various matters of business which had to be dealt with by the King and his Witan were brought forward.[1576] Surmises as to the charge against Anselm. Among other questions men were eagerly asking what would become of the charge against the Archbishop as to the bad equipment of his knights in the late Welsh campaign. Would he have to pay some huge sum of money, or would he have to pray for mercy, and be thereby so humbled that he could never lift up his head again?[1577] Anselm’s thoughts meanwhile were set upon quite other matters. He had made his last attempt on the King’s conscience, and he had failed. There was nothing more to be done by his own unaided powers. He determines to ask leave to go to Rome. He must seek for the counsel and help of one greater than himself. He called together a body of nobles of his own choice, those doubtless in whom he could put most trust, and he bade them carry a message from him to the King, to say that he was driven by the He declares his purpose to a chosen body. utmost need to ask his leave to go to Rome.[1578] We ask why he who had been on such intimate terms with the King during the earlier days of the meeting, was now forced to send a message instead of speaking to the King face to face. We may suppose that the arrangement was the same as at Rockingham, that there was an outer and an inner chamber, and that, while the suit against the Archbishop was pending, he was not allowed to take his natural place among the King’s counsellors. During the days of festival, he had been a guest and a friend; now that the days of business had come, he had changed into a defendant. We are not told what the lords of his choice said or thought of the message which he put into their hands. Aspect of the demand. Unless it was accompanied by a rather full explanation, it must have been startling. With the help of Eadmer we can follow the workings of Anselm’s mind; but to one who heard the request suddenly it must have had a strange sound. Did the Archbishop wish to complain to the Pope because the King was displeased with the trim and conduct of his military contingent? The King at least, when the message was taken to him, was utterly amazed. But William was not in one of his worst moods; he was sarcastic, but not wrathful. He refused the licence. The King’s answer. There could be no need for Anselm to go to the Pope. He would never believe that Anselm had committed any sin so black that none but the Pope could absolve him. And as for counsel, Anselm was much better fitted to give it to the Pope than the Pope was to give it to Anselm. Anselm took the refusal meekly. “Power is in his hands; he says what pleases him. What he refuses now he may perhaps grant another day. I will multiply my prayers.”[1579] Anselm had therefore to stay in England. The charge against Anselm withdrawn. But the formal charge against him was withdrawn. Perhaps the King had merely made it in a fit of ill humour, and had long given up any serious thought of pressing it. And, if he really wished to annoy Anselm, he had now a way in which he might annoy him far more thoroughly and with much greater advantage than by any mere temporal suit.

Affairs of Wales. June-August, 1097. This year was a year of gatherings, alike for counsel and for warfare. The seeming submission of Wales was soon found to be utterly hollow. From Midsummer till August William was engaged in another British expedition, one which brought nothing but immediate toil and trouble, but of whose more distant results we shall have again to speak. Another assembly. On his return he summoned, perhaps not a general Gemót, but at any rate a council of prelates and lords, to discuss grave matters touching the state of the kingdom.[1580] We would fain hear something of their debates on other affairs than those of Anselm; but that privilege is denied us. Anselm’s request again refused. We only know that, when the council was about to break up, when all its members were eager to get to their homes, Anselm earnestly craved that his request to go to Rome might be granted, and that the King again refused.[1581]

William Rufus seems never to have been happy save when he was himself moving and keeping everybody else in motion. It must have been in his days as in the days of Constantius, when the means of getting from place to place broke down through the multitude of bishops who were going to and fro for the endless councils.[1582] In the month of October the bishops and great lords at least, if no one else, were brought together for the fourth time this year. Assembly at Winchester. October 14, 1097. This time the place of meeting was Winchester; the day was the day of Saint Calixtus, the thirty-first anniversary of the great battle. We hear nothing of any other business, but only of the renewed petition of Anselm. It is clear that the idea of going to the Pope had seized on Anselm’s mind to an unhealthy degree. He could not help pressing it in season and out of season, clearly to the weakening both of his influence and of his position. Anselm renews his request. He made his request to the King both with his own lips—​this time he was no defendant—​and by the lips of others. The King was now thoroughly tired of the subject; he was now not sarcastic, but thoroughly annoyed and angry. He was weary of Anselm’s endlessly pressing a request which he must by this time know would not be granted. Anselm had wearied him too much; he now directly commanded that he should cease from his importunity, that he should submit to the judgement of the court and pay a fine for the annoyance which he had given to his sovereign.[1583] The King had an undoubted right to refuse the licence; but it is hard to see why the Archbishop was to be fined for asking for it. Anselm again impleaded. By this turn Anselm was again made a defendant. Anselm now offers to give good reasons, such as the King could not gainsay, for the course which he took. Alternative given to Anselm. The King refuses to hear any reasons, and, with a mixture of licence, threat, and defiance, he gives the Archbishop a kind of alternative. Anselm must understand that, if he goes, the King will seize the archbishopric into his own hands, and will never again receive him as archbishop.[1584] There was some free expression of feeling in these assemblies; for this announcement of the King’s will was met by a storm of shouts on different sides, some cheering the King and some the Archbishop.[1585] The meeting adjourned. Some at last, the moderate party perhaps, proposed and carried an adjournment till the morrow, hoping meanwhile to settle matters in some other way.[1586]

Thursday, October 15, 1097. The next morning came; as so often before, Anselm and his friends sat waiting the royal pleasure. Some bishops and lords came out and asked Anselm what his purpose now was about the affair of yesterday. He had not, he answered, agreed to the adjournment Anselm and the bishops and lords. because he had any doubt as to his own purpose, but only lest he should seem to set no store by the opinion of others. He was in the same mind in which he had been yesterday; he would again crave the King’s leave to go. Go he must, for the sake of his own soul’s health, for the sake of the Christian religion, for the King’s own honour and profit, if he would only believe it.[1587] The bishops and lords asked if he had anything else to say; as for leave to go to Rome, it was no use talking; the King would not grant it. Anselm answers that, if the King will not grant it, he must follow the scripture and obey God rather than man. We here see that Anselm had brooded over his griefs till he had reached the verge of fanaticism. Such language would have been exaggerated, had it been used when he was forbidden to go for the pallium according to ancient custom; it was utterly out of place when no clear duty of any kind, no law of eternal right, no positive law of the Church, bade him to go to Rome in defiance of the King’s orders.

Speech of Bishop Walkelin. At this stage we again meet a personal spokesman on the other side; Bishop Walkelin of Winchester speaks where doubtless William of Saint-Calais would have spoken, had he still lived. Walkelin’s argument was one hardly suited to the mind of Anselm. The King and his lords knew the Archbishop’s ways; they knew that he was a man not easily turned from his purpose; but it was not easy to believe that he would be firm in his purpose of casting aside the honour and wealth of the great office which he held, merely for the sake of going to Rome.[1588] Anselm’s face lighted up, and he fixed his keen eyes on Walkelin, with the words, “Truly I shall be firm.” This answer was taken to the King, and was debated for a long while in the inner council. Anselm and the bishops. At last Anselm bethinks him that his suffragans ought rather to be advising him than advising the King; he sends and bids them to come to him. Three of them come at the summons, Walkelin, the ritualist Osmund, the cunning leech John of Bath. They sat down on each side of their metropolitan. Anselm called on them, as bishops and prelates in the Church of God. If they were really willing to guard the right and the justice of God as they were ready to guard the laws and usages of a mortal man,[1589] they will let him tell them in full his reason for the course which he is taking, and they will then give him their counsel in God’s name.[1590] The three bishops chose first to confer with their brethren; Walkelin and Robert were then sent in to the King, and the whole body of bishops came once more to Anselm. The bishops’ portrait of themselves. We now see the portrait of the prelates of the Red King’s day, as it is drawn by their own spokesman. Anselm they knew to be a devout and holy man who had his conversation in heaven. But they were hindered by the kinsfolk whom they sustained, by the manifold affairs of the world which they loved; they could not rise to the loftiness of Anselm’s life or trample on this world as he did.[1591] But if he would come down to them, and would walk in their way,[1592] then they would consult for him as they would consult for themselves, and would help him in his affairs as if they were their own. If he would persist in standing alone and referring everything to God,[1593] they would not go beyond the fealty which they owed to the King. This was plain speaking enough; the doctrine of interest against right has seldom, even in these later times, been more openly set forth. One would think that the bishops simply meant to strengthen Anselm’s fixed purpose; they could not hope to move him with arguments which certainly did not do justice to their own case. Anselm’s answer. Anselm’s scholastic training always enabled him to seize an advantage in argument. “You have spoken well,” he answered; “go to your lord; I will cleave to God.”[1594] They did as he bade them; they went, and Anselm was left almost alone; the few friends who clave to him sat apart at his bidding, and prayed to God to bring the matter to a good ending.[1595]

In all these debates it is the bishops who play the worst part. They seem to say in calm earnest the same kind of things which the King said in wrath or in jest. Part of the lay lords. After a short delay, they come back, accompanied by some lay barons, and the tone of their discourse is at once raised. Anselm has no longer the laity on his side, as he had at Rockingham; nor can we wonder at the change. The speech which is now made is harsh, perhaps captious; but at all events the stand is now taken on direct legal grounds, no longer on the base motives confessed to by the bishops. The King sent word that Anselm had troubled him, embittered him, tortured him, by his complaints.[1596] Anselm’s promise to obey the customs. The Archbishop is reminded that, after the suit at Rockingham and the reconciliation which followed at Windsor—​a reconciliation which is now attributed to the earnest prayers of Anselm’s friends[1597]—​he had sworn to obey the laws and customs of the realm, and to defend them against all men.[1598] After this promise the King had believed that Anselm would give him no more trouble.[1599] But he had already broken his oath—​the charge is delicately worded—​when He is charged with breach of promise. he threatened to go to Rome without the King’s leave.[1600] For any of the great men of the realm so to do was utterly unheard of; for him most of all. Anselm’s enemies had now the advantage of him; he certainly had uttered words which might be not unfairly construed as an intended breach of the law. They therefore called on him to make oath that he would never appeal to the Holy See in any shape in any matter which the King might lay upon him; Alternative given to him. otherwise he must leave the kingdom with all speed, on what conditions he already knew. And if he chose to stay and take the oath, he must submit to be fined at the judgement of the court for having troubled the King so much about a matter in which he had after all not stuck firm to his own purpose.[1601] This last condition seems hard measure; there was surely no treason in making a request to the King which it rested with the King to grant or to refuse. With regard to the alleged breach of promise they undoubtedly stood on firmer ground.

The King’s messengers did not wait for an answer. Anselm therefore rose; followed by his companions, he went in to the King, and, according to custom, sat down beside him.[1602] He asked whether the message which he had just heard had really come from the King, and he received for answer that it had. Anselm and the King. Anselm then said that he had undoubtedly made the promise to observe the laws, but that he made it only in God’s name, and so far as the laws were according to right, and could be obeyed in God’s name.[1603] Qualifications and distinctions. The King and his lords answered that in the promise there had been no mention of God or of right.[1604] We should be well pleased to have the actual words of the promise; but we need not suppose any direct misstatement of fact on either side; the forms of oaths and promises are commonly capable of more than one interpretation. Words which one side looks on as surplusage another side looks on as the root of the whole matter. But the form of the answer gave Anselm, if not a logical, at least a rhetorical, advantage. If there was no mention of God or right, what was there mention of? No Christian man could be bound to observe laws which were contrary to God and right. We have here reached the beginning of those distinctions and qualifications which play so great a part in the debates of the next century; but with Anselm the appeal is simply to God and right; there is not a word about the privileges of his order. His hearers murmured and wagged their heads, but said nothing openly.[1605] Anselm’s discourse; duty to God always excepted. So the Primate went on to lay down at some length the doctrine that every promise of earthly duty involved in its own nature a saving of duty to God. Faith was pledged in earthly matters according to the faith due to God; faith to God was therefore excepted by the very terms of the promise.[1606] The argument is doubtless sound, as regards the individual conscience; it leaves out of sight, and any argument of that age would probably have left out of sight, the truth that men may differ as to what is duty towards God, and that no lawgiver or administrator of the law can possibly listen to every scruple which may be urged on such grounds in favour of disobedience. To Anselm’s mind the case was clear. A custom which hindered him from going to consult the Vicar of Saint Peter for his own soul’s health and for the good of the Church was a custom contrary to God and right, a custom which ought to be cast aside and disobeyed. No man who feared God would hinder him from going to the head of Christendom on God’s service. He ended with a parable. The King would not think himself well served if any powerful vassal of his should by terrors and threatenings hinder any other of his subjects from doing his duty and service to him.

Answer of Count Robert. It was perhaps not wholly in enmity that the Count of Meulan, who at Rockingham had frankly professed his admiration of Anselm, joined the King at this stage in trying to turn off the matter with a jest. The Primate, he said, was preaching them a sermon; but prudent people could not admit his line of argument.[1607] And certainly Anselm’s present line of argument, the assertion of individual conscience against established law, could not be admitted by any legislative or judicial assembly. The barons against Anselm. A disturbance followed; the barons who had stood by the Archbishop when he lay under a manifestly unjust charge joined in the clamour against him when he declared that the law of the land was something to be despised and disobeyed. But Anselm’s conscience was not disturbed; he sat quiet and silent, with his face towards the ground, till the clamour wore itself out.[1608] He then finished his sermon, as Count Robert called it. He ends his discourse. No Christian man ought to demand of him that he would never appeal to the blessed Peter or his Vicar. So to swear would be to abjure Peter, and to abjure Peter would be to abjure Christ who had set Peter as the chief over his Church. He then turned to the King with a kind of gentle defiance; “When I deny Christ, O King, for your sake, then will I not be slow to pay a fine at the judgement of your court for my sin in asking your leave.” Half in anger, half in mockery, Count Robert said, “You will present yourself to Peter and the Pope; but no Pope shall get the better of us, to our knowledge.”[1609] “God knows,” answered Anselm, “what may be in store for you; He will be able, if He thinks good, to guide me to the threshold of his apostles.” With these words the Archbishop rose, and went again into the outer chamber.

The King and his counsellors seem to have been moved by the calm resolution of Anselm, even when the letter of the law was on their own side. Either Rufus was not in his most savage mood, or his wily Achitophel contrived to keep him in some restraint. Nothing could be gained by keeping Anselm in the kingdom. He had already had the choice set before him. Anselm to be allowed to go, but the archbishopric to be seized if he went. He might go; but, if he went, the archbishopric would be seized into the King’s hands. He had made his choice, and he should be allowed to carry it out without hindrance; only he knew on what conditions. The decision was on the whole not altogether unfair; but the inherent pettiness of the magnanimous King could not help throwing in an insult or two by the way. If Anselm chose to go, all that he had, in Rufus’ version of the law, at once passed to the King. Anselm allowed to go, but the archbishopric to be seized. He was therefore told, in the message which was sent out to him, that he might go, but that he might take nothing with him which belonged to the King.[1610] Anselm did not, like William of Saint-Calais, bargain for the means of crossing in state with dogs, hawks, and servants.[1611] He seems tacitly to raise a point of law. The lands of the archbishopric might pass to the King; but that could not take from him his mere personal goods. “I have,” he said, “horses, clothes, furniture, which perhaps somebody may say are the King’s. But I will go naked and on foot, rather than give up my purpose.” When these words were reported to Rufus, for a moment he felt a slight sense of shame.[1612] He did not wish the Archbishop to go naked and barefoot. But within eleven days he must be ready at the haven to cross the sea, and a messenger from the King would be there to tell him what he and his companions would be allowed to take with them. The King’s bidding was announced to the Archbishop, and Anselm’s companions wished, now the matter seemed to be settled, to go at once to their own quarters. But Anselm would not leave the man who was his earthly lord, who had once been, in form at least, his friend, to whom he held himself to stand in so close an official and personal relation, without one word face to face. Anselm’s last interview with the King. He entered the presence-chamber, and once more the saint sat down side by side with the foulest of sinners. “My lord,” said Anselm, “I am going. If I could have gone with your good will, it would have better become you, and it would have been more pleasing to every good man. But since things are turned another way, though it grieves me as regards you, as regards myself I will, according to my power, bear it with a calm mind. And not even for this will I, by the Lord’s help, withdraw myself from the love of your soul’s health. Now therefore, not knowing when I may again see you, I commend you to God, and, as a ghostly father speaking to a beloved son, as an Archbishop of Canterbury speaking to a King of England, I would, before I go, give you my blessing, if you do not refuse it.” For a moment Rufus was touched; his good angel perhaps spoke to him then for the last time. He blesses Rufus. “I refuse not your blessing,” was his answer. The man of God arose; the King bowed his head, and Anselm made the sign of the cross over it. He then went forth, leaving the King and all that were with him wondering at the ready cheerfulness with which he spoke and went.[1613]

Anselm at Canterbury. Rufus and Anselm never met again. From Winchester the Archbishop went to his own home at Canterbury.[1614] The day after he came there, he gathered together his monks, and addressed them in a farewell discourse.[1615] He takes the pilgrim’s staff. Then, in the sight of a crowd of monks, clerks, and lay folk, he took the staff and scrip of a pilgrim before the altar. He commended all present to Christ, and set forth amidst their tears and wailings. The same day he and his comrades reached Dover. There he found that the passing current of better feeling which had touched the King’s heart as he bowed his head for Anselm’s blessing had been but for a moment. Rufus had gone back to his old mind, to the spirit of petty insult and petty gain. William of Warelwast at Dover. The King’s obedient clerk, William of Warelwast, one day to be the builder of the twin towers of Exeter, was there already. For fifteen days Anselm and his companions were kept at Dover, waiting for a favourable wind. Meanwhile William of Warelwast went in and out with Anselm; he ate at his table, and said not a word of the purpose which had brought him.[1616] On the fifteenth day the wind changed, and the sailors urged the Archbishop’s party to cross at once. When they were on the shore ready to start, William stopped the Archbishop as if he had been a runaway slave or a criminal escaping from justice,[1617] and in the King’s name forbade him to cross, till he had declared everything that he had in his baggage. In hope of finding money, all Anselm’s bags and trunks were opened and ransacked, in the sight of a vast crowd that stood by wondering at so unheard of a deed, and cursing those who did it.[1618] The bags were opened and ransacked in vain. Nothing was found that the King’s faithful clerk thought worth his master’s taking. Anselm crosses to Whitsand. The Archbishop, with Baldwin and Eadmer, was then allowed to set sail, and they landed safely at Whitsand.

The archbishopric seized by the King. As soon as the King heard that Anselm was out of the kingdom, he did as he had said that he would do; he again seized all the estates of the archbishopric into his own hands. This was only what was to be looked for; it was fully in accordance with the doctrines of Flambard, and better kings than William Rufus would have done the like in the like case. But Rufus or his agents went much further. Our guide implies that he acted as if Anselm had been an intruder in the archbishopric. Anselm’s acts declared null. All the acts and orders of Anselm during his four years’ primacy—​that is, we must suppose, all leases, grants, and legal transactions of every kind—​were declared null and void.[1619] Much loss and wrong must have been thus caused to many persons. A man who had, in the old phrase, bought land of the archbishopric for a term or for lives[1620] would lose his land, and, we may be sure, would not get back his money. A clerk collated by the Archbishop might be turned out of his living to make room for a nominee of the King. It is no wonder then that the wrongs which were done now were said to be greater than the wrongs which had been done when the archiepiscopal estates had before been seized after the death of Lanfranc.[1621] For at any rate the acts of Lanfranc were not reversed. One feels a certain desire to know what became of the Archbishop’s knights whose array had so displeased the King earlier in the year. But we hear nothing of them or of any particular class; all is quite general. In one case indeed it is quite certain that the rule that all Anselm’s acts should be treated as invalid was not carried out. The monks keep Peckham. The monks of Christ Church clearly kept their temporary possession of the manor of Peckham. For they spent the whole income of it on great architectural works which Anselm himself had begun. The metropolitan church, so lately rebuilt by Lanfranc, had already become small in the eyes of a younger generation, as indeed it was smaller than many minsters of the same date. The church of Lanfranc had followed the usual Norman plan; the short eastern limb, the monks’ choir, was under the tower.[1622] Rebuilding of the choir of Christ Church. The arrangements of the minster were now recast after a new pattern which did not commonly prevail till many years later. The eastern limb was rebuilt on a far greater scale, itself forming as it were a cruciform church, with its own transepts, its own towers, one of which in after days received the name of Anselm. Ernulf Prior 1096? Abbot of Peterborough, 1107; Bishop of Rochester, 1115. This work, begun by Anselm before his banishment, was carried on in his absence by the prior of his appointment, Ernulf—​Earnwulf—​a monk of his old house of Bec, but perhaps of English birth, who rose afterwards to be Abbot of Peterborough and Bishop of Rochester.[1623] In marked contrast to the speed with which Lanfranc had carried through his work, the choir begun by Ernulf and carried on by his successor Prior Conrad was not consecrated till late in the days of Henry.[1624]

Comparison of the trials of William of Saint-Calais, Anselm, and Thomas. After reading the accounts of these two great debates or trials, at Rockingham and at Winchester, it is impossible to avoid looking both backwards and forwards. The story of these proceedings must be told, as I have throughout tried to tell it, with an eye to the earlier proceedings against William of Saint-Calais, to the later proceedings against Thomas of London. The three stories supply an instructive contrast. In each case a bishop is arraigned before a civil tribunal; in each case the bishop appeals to the Pope; but beyond that the three men have little in common. Comparison of the men. William and Thomas were both of them, though in widely different senses, playing a part; it is Anselm alone who is throughout perfectly simple and unconscious. Through the whole of Anselm’s life, we feel that he never could have acted otherwise than as he did act. He never stopped to think what was the right thing for a saintly archbishop to do; he simply did at all times what his conscience told him that he ought to do. Position of Thomas; Thomas, perfectly sincere, thoroughly bent on doing his duty, was still following a conscious ideal of duty; he was always thinking what a saintly archbishop ought to do; above all things, we may be sure, he was thinking what Anselm, in the like case, would have done. Thus, while Anselm acts quite singly, Thomas is, consciously though sincerely, playing a part. of William of Saint-Calais. William of Saint-Calais is playing a part in a far baser sense; he appeals to the Pope, he appeals to ecclesiastical privileges in general, simply to serve his own personal ends. He appealed to those privileges more loudly than anybody else, when he thought that by that appeal he might himself escape condemnation. He trampled them under foot more scornfully than anybody else, when he thought that by so doing he might bring about the condemnation of Anselm and his own promotion. But it is curious to see how in some points the sincere acting of Thomas and the insincere acting of William agree as distinguished from the pure single-mindedness of Anselm. Both William and Thomas distinctly appeal to the Pope from the sentence of the highest court in their own land. Anselm does not strictly appeal to the Pope. We cannot say that Anselm did this; he does not refuse the sentence of the King’s court; he does not ask the Pope to set aside the sentence of the King’s court; the utmost that he does is to say that it is his duty to obey God rather than man, and that his duty to God obliges him to go to the Pope. To the Pope therefore he will go, even though the King forbids him; but he is ready at the same time to bear patiently the spoiling of his goods as the penalty of going. This is assuredly not an appeal to the Pope in the same sense as the appeals made by William and Thomas.

Among the marks of difference in the cases is that both William and Thomas strongly assert the privileges of their order; none but the Pope may judge a bishop. Anselm does not assert clerical privileges. Anselm never once, during his whole dispute with William Rufus, makes the slightest claim to any such privilege; he never breathes a word about the rights of the clerical order. The doctrine that none but the Pope may judge the Archbishop of Canterbury—​nothing is said about other priests or other bishops—​is heard of only once during the whole story.[1625] And then it is not put forth by Anselm; it is not openly put forth by anybody; it is merely mentioned by Eadmer as something which came into the minds of the undutiful bishops as a kind of after-thought. This most likely means that it was not really thought of at the time, either by the bishops or by anybody else, but that Eadmer, writing by fresh lights learned at Rome and at Bari, could no longer understand a state of things in which it was not thought of by somebody. The truth doubtless is that in Anselm’s day the doctrine of clerical exemption from temporal jurisdiction was a novelty which was creeping in. It was well known enough for Odo and William of Saint-Calais to catch at it to serve their own ends; it was not so fully established that it was at all a matter of conscience with Anselm to assert it. By the time of Thomas every doctrine of the kind had so grown that its assertion had become a point of conscience with every strict churchman. Question of observing the customs. But there is another point in which the case of Anselm and the case of Thomas agree as distinguished from the case of William of Saint-Calais. In this last case nothing turned on any promise of the Bishop to obey the customs of the realm. Much in the case of Anselm, much more in the case of Thomas, turned on such a promise. In each case the Archbishop pleads a certain reservation expressed or understood; but there is a wide difference between the reservation made by Anselm and the reservation made by Thomas. The favourite formula with Thomas, the formula which he proposes, the formula which he is at Clarendon with difficulty persuaded to withdraw and on which he again falls back,[1626] is “saving my order.” Anselm has nothing to say about his order; he is not fighting for the privileges of any special body of men; he is simply a righteous man clothed with a certain office, the duties of which office he must discharge. It is not his order that he reserves; he reserves only the higher and more abiding names of God and right.

Nature of our reports of the trials. As for the cases themselves and the tribunals before which they were heard, we must always remember that our reports, though very full, are not official. Their authors therefore use technical or non-technical language at pleasure. They assume familiarity with the nature of the court and its mode of procedure; they do not stop to explain many things which we should be very glad if they had stopped to explain. But it is clear that the nature of the proceedings was not exactly the same in the three cases. Comparison of the proceedings in each case. And it is singular that, in point of mere procedure, there seems more likeness between the case of Anselm and the case of Thomas than there is between either and the case of William of Saint-Calais. William William and Thomas summoned to answer a charge. of Saint-Calais and Thomas were both of them, in the strictest sense, summoned before a court to answer a charge. The charges were indeed of quite different kinds in the two cases. William of Saint-Calais was charged with high treason. Thomas, besides a number of demands about money, was charged only with failing to appear in the King’s court in answer to an earlier summons. Anselm seeks advice on a point of law. Anselm, on the other hand, cannot be said to have been really charged with anything, though the King and his party tried to treat him as though he had been. The assembly at Rockingham was gathered at Anselm’s own request, to inform him on a point of law. The King and his bishops tried to treat Anselm as a criminal; but they found that the general feeling of the assembly would not allow them to do so. At Winchester again, Anselm was not summoned to answer any charge, for the charge about the troops in the Welsh war had been dropped at Windsor. The charges, such as they are, which are brought against him turn up as it were casually in the course of the proceedings. Yet the order of things seems much the same in the case of Anselm and in the case of Thomas, while in the case of William of Saint-Calais it seems to be different. Proceedings in the case of William of Saint-Calais. In the case of William of Saint-Calais everything is done in the King’s presence. The Bishop himself has more than once to leave the place of meeting, while particular points are discussed; but there is not that endless going to and fro which there is in the other two cases. In the case of Thomas, as in the case of Anselm, we see plainly the inner room where the King sits with his immediate counsellors, while the Archbishop waits in an outer place with the general body of the assembly. Architectural arrangements. At Northampton we see the architectural arrangement more clearly than either at Rockingham or at Winchester. Thomas enters the great hall, and goes no further, while the King’s inner council is held in the solar.[1627] Constitution of the several assemblies. It is possible, as indeed I have already hinted,[1628] that there was a difference in the nature of the assembly in the case of William of Saint-Calais and in the two cases of Anselm and Thomas. We must remember that in the reign of William Rufus the judicial and administrative system was still only forming itself, and that many things were then vague and irregular, both in fact and in name, which had taken a definite shape in the time of Henry the Second. Between the case of Anselm and the case of Thomas came the justiciarship of Roger of Salisbury and the chancellorship of Thomas himself. The Witenagemót; I am inclined to think that, at Rockingham, at Winchester, at Northampton, the assembly was strictly the great assembly of the nation, the ancient Witenagemót, with such changes in its working as had taken place between the days of the Confessor and the days of William Rufus, and again between the days of William Rufus and the days of Henry the Second. its constitution becomes gradually less popular. Each of these periods of change would of course do something towards taking away from the old popular character of the assembly. At Rockingham that popular character is by no means lost. We are not told where the line, if any, was drawn; but a multitude of monks, clerks, and laymen were there.[1629] At Northampton we hear of no class below the lesser barons; and they, with the sheriffs, wait in the outer hall, till they are specially summoned to the King’s presence. Lessened freedom of speech. At Rockingham too and at Winchester there seems much greater freedom of speech than there is at Northampton. The whole assembly shouts and cheers as it pleases, and a simple knight steps forth to speak and to speak boldly.[1630] At Northampton, as at Rockingham and at Winchester, the Archbishop is allowed the company of his personal followers. William Fitz-Stephen and Herbert of Bosham sit at the feet of Thomas, as Eadmer and Baldwin sit at the feet of Anselm. But at Northampton the disciples are roughly checked in speaking to their master, in a way of which there is no sign in the earlier assemblies. At Rockingham and Winchester again, though the Archbishop stays for the most part outside in the hall, yet he more than once goes unbidden into the presence-chamber, and is even followed thither by his faithful monks. At Northampton Thomas is never admitted to the King’s presence, and no one seems to go into the inner room who is not specially summoned. This may be merely because, as is likely enough, strictness of rule, form, and etiquette had greatly advanced between William Rufus and Henry the Second. Or it may have been because Thomas was strictly summoned to answer a charge, while Anselm was really under no charge at all, but came as a member of the assembly.

The inner and outer council; Another point here arises. I cannot but think that in these great assemblies, consisting of an inner and an outer body, we must see the same kind of distinction which we saw on the great day of Salisbury between the Witan and the landsitting men. foreshadowing of lords and commons. That is, I see in the inner and outer bodies the foreshadowing of Lords and Commons. To this day there is one chamber in which the King’s throne is set; there is another chamber whose occupants do not enter the presence of that throne, except by special summons. I am inclined therefore to see, both in the case of Anselm and in the case of Thomas, a true gathering of the Witan of the realm. Thomas tried before the Witan; Thomas comes, like Strafford or Hastings, to answer a charge before the Court of our Lord the King in Parliament,[1631] that court, which from an assembly of the whole nation, gradually shrank up into an assembly of the present peerage. In the case of Anselm I see the same body acting, not strictly as a court, but rather as the great inquest of the nation, but at the same time fluctuating somewhat, as was but natural in that age, between its judicial and its legislative functions. William before the Thening-mannagemót. But in the tribunal which sat on William of Saint-Calais I am, as I have already said, inclined to see, not the Mickle Gemót of the whole nation, but rather the King’s court in a narrower sense, the representative of the ancient Theningmannagemót, the more strictly official body.[1632] Here we have no division of chambers; the proceedings are strictly those of a court trying a charge, and the King, as chief judge, is present throughout.

Estimate of the three cases. As for the matter of the three cases, the trial of William of Saint-Calais was in itself the perfectly fair trial of a rebel who, in the end, after the custom of the age, came off very lightly for his rebellion. Behaviour of Rufus; There really seems nothing to blame William Rufus for in that matter—​William Rufus, that is, still largely guided by Lanfranc—​except some characteristic pettinesses just towards the end of the story.[1633] Towards Anselm William appears—​save under one or two momentary touches of better feeling—​simply as the power of evil striving, by whatever means, to crush the power of good. He seems none the less so, even when on particular points his own case is technically right. of Henry the Second. Henry the Second, acting honestly for the good of his kingdom, both technically and morally right in his main quarrel, stoops to the base and foolish course of trying to crush his adversary by a crowd of charges in which the King seems to have been both morally and technically wrong, and which certainly would never have been brought if the Archbishop had not given offence on other grounds. William Rufus again, and Henry the Second also, each forsook his own position by calling in, when it suited their momentary purposes, the very power which their main position bade them to control and to keep out of their kingdom. Comparison with Henry the First. Not so the great king who came between them. The Lion of Justice knew, and he alone in those days seems to have known, how to carry on a controversy of principle, without ever forsaking his own position, without ever losing his temper or lowering his dignity, without any breach of personal respect and friendship towards the holy man whom his kingly office made it his duty to withstand.

The three years of Anselm’s first sojourn beyond sea concern us for the most part only indirectly. Effect on Anselm of his foreign sojourn. Of their most important aspect, as concerns us, I have spoken elsewhere,[1634] and we shall again see their fruit before the present work is ended. In his journeyings to Lyons, to Rome, to Bari, Anselm learned a new doctrine which he had never found out either at Bec or at Canterbury. It was not for his good that he, who had, like the Primates who had gone before him, received his staff from the King’s hands, and placed his own hands in homage between them, should hear the anathema pronounced against the prince who should bestow or the clerk who should receive any ecclesiastical benefice in such sort as no prince had scrupled to give them, as no clerk had scrupled to receive them, in the days of King Eadward and in the days of King William.[1635] When Anselm came back to England, he came, as we shall see, the same Anselm as of old in every personal quality, in every personal virtue. Change in him. But in all things which touched the relations of popes, kings, and bishops, he came back another man.

His journey. But in the course of Anselm’s adventures, in his foreign journeys, there are details here and there which no Englishman can read without interest. We come across constant signs of the place which England and her Primate held in the minds of men of other lands. Alleged scheme of Odo Duke of Burgundy [1078–1102] against Anselm. We read how no less a prince than Odo Duke of Burgundy, already a crusader in Spain and afterwards a crusader in Palestine, was tempted by the report of the wealth of the great English see to sink into a common robber, and to set forth for the purpose of plundering the Primate as he passed through his land. We read how he was turned from his purpose, when he saw the white hair, the gentle and venerable look, of the Archbishop, the look which won all hearts. Instead of harming him, Odo received his kiss and sought his blessing, and sent him under a safe guard to the borders of his duchy.[1636] We read how the likeness of that venerable face had been painted by cunning limners in the interest of Clement, that the robbers who were sent to seize the faithful follower of Urban might better know their intended victim. Anselm at Rome. We read with some national pride how, at his first interview with Urban, when Anselm bowed himself at the Pontiff’s feet, he was raised, received to his kiss, and seated by him as one of equal rank, the Pope and Patriarch of another world. Council of Lateran. We read how, in the great gathering in the head church of the city and of the world, when no man knew what was the fitting place in a Roman council for a guest such as none had ever seen before, the English Archbishop was placed at the papal bidding in a seat of special honour. Anselm took his seat in that apse which was spared when papal barbarism defaced the long arcades of Constantine, when the patriarchal throne of the world was cast forth as an useless thing,[1637] but which the more relentless havoc of our own day, eager, it would seem, to get rid of all that is older than the dogmas of modern Rome, has ruthlessly swept away. We read how visitors and pilgrims from England bowed to kiss the feet of Anselm, as they would have kissed those of Urban himself, and how the humble saint ever refused such unbecoming worship.[1638] And we are most touched of all to hear how, among all these honours, Anselm was commonly spoken of in Rome, not by his name, not by the titles of his office, but simply as “the holy man.”[1639] At Rome, that name might have a special meaning. It was well deserved by the one suitor at the Roman throne who abstained from the use of Rome’s most convincing argument.

But in the record of Anselm’s wanderings there is one tale which comes home more than any other to the hearts of Englishmen, a tale which carries us back, if not strictly to the days of English freedom, at least to the days when we had a conqueror whom we had made our own. Council of Bari. The fathers are gathered at Bari, in the great minster of the Lykian Nicolas, where the arts of northern and southern Christendom, the massiveness of the Norman, the finer grace of the Greek, are so strangely blended in the pile which was then fresh from the craftsman’s hand. There, in his humility, the pilgrim from Canterbury takes to himself a modest place amongst the other bishops, with the faithful Eadmer sitting at his feet.[1640] The Pope calls on his father and master, Anselm Archbishop of the English, to arise and speak. There, in the city so lately torn away from Eastern Christendom, Anselm is bidden to justify the change which Latin theology had made in that creed of the East which changeth not. The Pope harangues on the sufferings of the Church in various lands, and, above all, on the evil deeds of the tyrant of England. The assembled fathers agree with one voice that the sword of Peter must be drawn, and that such a sinner must be smitten in the face of the whole world. Anselm pleads for Rufus. Then Anselm kneels at the feet of Urban, and craves that no such blow may be dealt on the man who had so deeply wronged him.[1641] But, while these high debates were going on, the curious eye of Eadmer had lighted on an object which spoke straight to his heart as an Englishman and a monk of Christ Church. The cope of Beneventum. Among the assembled prelates the Archbishop of Beneventum appeared clad in a cope of surpassing richness. Eadmer knew at once whence it came; he knew that it had once been one of the glories of Canterbury, worn by Primates of England before England had bowed either to the Norman or to the Dane. Eadmer, brought up from his childhood in the cloister of Christ Church, had been taught as a boy by aged monks who could remember the days of Cnut and Emma. Dealings between Canterbury and Beneventum. Those elders of the house, Eadwig and Blæcman and Farman, had told him how in those days there had been a mighty famine in the land of Apulia, how the then Archbishop of Beneventum had travelled through foreign lands to seek help for his starving flock, how he brought with him a precious relic, the arm of the apostle Bartholomew, and how, having passed through Italy and Gaul, he was led to cross the sea by the fame of the wealth of England and of the piety and bounty of Emma its Lady. She gave him plenteous gifts for his people, and he asked whether she would not give yet more as the price of the precious relic. Emma buys the arm of Saint Bartholomew. The genuineness of the treasure was solemnly sworn to;[1642] a great price was paid for it by the Lady, and, by the special order of King Cnut, it was added as a precious gift to the treasures of the metropolitan church. For in those days, says Eadmer, it was the manner of the English to set the patronage of the saints before all the wealth of this world. Æthelnoth’s gift of the cope. The Archbishop of Beneventum went back, loaded with the alms of England, and bearing with him, among other gifts from his brother Primate Æthelnoth, this very cope richly embroidered with gold with all the skill of English hands. Eadmer, taught by the tradition of his elders, knew the vestment as he saw it in that far land on the shoulders of the successor of the prelate who had come to our island for help in his day of need. Eadmer recognises the cope. He saw it with joy; he pointed it out to Father Anselm, and, feigning ignorance, he asked the Beneventan Archbishop the history of the splendid cope which he wore. He was pleased to find that the tradition of Beneventum was the same as the tradition of Canterbury.[1643] Now that we have made our way into other times and other lands, it is pleasing to look back for a moment, with our faithful Eadmer, to days when England still was England, even though she had already learned to bow to a foreign King and a foreign Lady.

More important in a general view than the details of Anselm’s journey are the negotiations which went on during this time between William, Urban, and Anselm. The Red King’s day of grace was now over. Position of Rufus. The last touch of feeling recorded of him is when he bowed his head to receive Anselm’s blessing. Henceforth he stands out, in a more marked way than ever, in the character which distinguishes him from other kings and from other men. We have had evil kings before and after him; but we have had none other who openly chose evil to be his good, none other who declared himself in plain words to be the personal enemy of the Almighty. Yet, as we have already noticed, the bolts of the Church never lighted on Possible effect of excommunication on him.the head of this worst of royal sinners. We have just seen how once at least he was spared by the merciful intercession of his own victim. We are tempted to stop and think how a formal excommunication would have worked on such an one as William Rufus had now become. Papal excommunications not yet despised. We must remember that the weight of papal excommunications of princes had not yet been lowered, as it came to be lowered afterwards, either by their frequency or by their manifest injustice. The cases which were then fresh in men’s minds were all striking and weighty. The Emperor Henry. The excommunication of the Emperor was, from the papal point of view, a natural stage of the great struggle which was still raging. Philip of France. Philip of France had been excommunicated for a moral offence which seemed the darker because it involved the mockery of an ecclesiastical sacrament. Boleslaus of Poland. 1079. And no man could wonder or blame when, in the days of Hildebrand, Boleslaus of Poland was put out of the communion of the faithful for slaying with his own hands before the altar the bishop who had rebuked him for his sins.[1644] The case most akin to the wanton excommunications of later times had been when Alexander the The case of Harold. Second in form, when Hildebrand in truth, had denounced Harold without a hearing for no crime but that of accepting the crown which his people gave him. But men are so apt to judge by results that the fall of Harold and of England may by this time, even among Englishmen, have begun to be looked on as a witness to the power of the Church’s thunders. In the days of Rufus a papal excommunication was still a real and fearful thing at which men stood aghast. It might not have turned the heart of Rufus; it might even have hardened his heart yet further. Probable effect of an excommunication on the people. But among his people, even among his own courtiers, the effect would doubtless have been such that he must in the end, like Philip, have formally given way. As it was, the bolt never fell; the hand of Anselm stopped it once; other causes, as we shall soon see, stopped it afterwards. And, instead of the formal excommunication of Rome, there came that more striking excommunication by the voice of the English people, when, by a common instinct, they declared William the Red to have no true part in that communion of the faithful from which he had never been formally cut off.

Anselm writes to the Pope from Lyons. The negotiations, if we may so call them, which followed the departure of Anselm may be looked on as beginning with a letter written by Anselm to the Pope from Lyons.[1645] The Archbishop, once out of England, seems to take up a new tone. His new tone. His language with regard to the King’s doings is still singularly mild;[1646] but he now begins to speak, not only of God and right, but of the canons of the Church and the authority of the Pope, as something to which the arbitrary customs of England must give way.[1647] To those customs he cannot agree without perilling his own soul and the souls of his successors. He comes to the Apostolic See for help and counsel.[1648] Anselm at Rome. When he had reached Rome, he again set forth his case more fully, as it had been set forth in the letter from Lyons. Letters to the King. Letters both from Anselm and from the Pope were sent to the King by the same messenger, letters which unluckily are not preserved. The summary of the papal letter seems to point to a lofty tone on the part of the Pontiff. He moves, he exhorts, he at last commands, King William, to leave the goods of the Archbishop free, and to restore everything to him.[1649] Anselm’s own letter was doubtless in a milder strain. The messenger came back, to find both Urban and Anselm again at Rome after the synod at Bari. His reception of the letters. The letter from Urban had been received, though ungraciously; the letter from Anselm was sent back. As soon as the King knew that the bearer was a man of the Archbishop’s, he had sworn by the face of Lucca that, unless the messenger speedily got him away out of his lands, he would have his eyes torn out without fail.[1650]

Mission of William of Warelwast. The Pope however could hardly be left wholly without some answer, however scornfully William might deal with the letter of his own subject. But the answer was not speedy in coming. Its bearer was the trusty clerk William of Warelwast, of whom we have already heard more than once. The King’s business did not now call for the same haste as it had done when the same man was sent to find out who was the true Pope.[1651] Much happened before he came. Amongst other things, not a few travellers came from England and Normandy, bringing with them fresh and fresh reports of the evil doings of the King, some of which we have already heard of. William on the continent. November, 1097-April, 1099. William was now in Normandy. He crossed at Martinmas,[1652] and spent the whole of the next year in the wars of France and Maine. He did not come back to England till the Easter of the year following that.[1653] It was now that he played at Rouen the part of a missionary of the creed of Moses.[1654] But he kept his eye upon England also; for to this time is assigned the story of the fifty Englishmen who so enraged the blaspheming King by proving their innocence by the ordeal.[1655] Nor was it merely rumours of William’s doings at home which found their way into Italy from Normandy and England. While the King was devising his answer to the Pope, his emissaries were busy in other parts of the peninsula. Affairs of Southern Italy. The affairs of the Normans in their two great settlements are always joining in one stream. While Bohemund and Tancred were on their Eastern march, the reigning princes of their house, Roger of Apulia and Roger of Sicily, were carrying on their schemes of advancement west of Hadria. Siege of Capua. Their armies now lay before Capua. Meanwhile Anselm had withdrawn with John Abbot of Telesia to seek quiet in a town of the Abbot’s on the upper Vulturnus, Anselm at Schiavia. whose name of Schiavia may suggest some ethnological questions.[1656] Our guide specially marks that this journey was a journey into Samnium; he may not have fully taken in how truly Telesia was the heart of Samnium, alike in the days of the Pontius of the Caudine Forks and in the days of the Pontius of the Colline Gate.[1657] He writes “Cur Deus Homo.” Here, in his Samnite retreat, Anselm was moulding the theology of all later times by his treatise which told why God became Man.[1658] Meanwhile William of England, at war with righteousness in all its forms, held Helias in his prison at Bayeux,[1659] and plotted against Anselm in his hermitage at Schiavia. When Duke Roger’s army was so near, the master of Normandy deemed that something might be done for his purpose by Norman arms or Norman craft. He sent letters—​his letters could go speedily when speed was needed—​to stir up Duke Roger to do some mischief to the man whom he hated.[1660] The plot was in vain. Anselm and Urban before Capua. Anselm was invited to the Duke’s camp; he was received there with all honour during a sojourn of some time, as he was at every other point of the Duke’s dominions to which he went.[1661] The Pope and Anselm, patriarchs of two worlds, were Duke Roger’s guests at the same time. But only the rich dared to present themselves in the presence of the Pope of the mainland, while the shepherd of the nations beyond the sea welcomed men of all kinds lovingly.[1662] Anselm and the Saracens. The very Saracens whom Count Roger had brought from Sicily to the help of his nephew pressed to visit the holy man of another faith, to be received and fed at his cost, to kiss his hands, and to cover him with prayers and blessings. Not a few of them were even ready to embrace Anselm’s creed;[1663] but proselytism among his soldiers formed no part of the policy of the conqueror of Sicily. Count Roger was ready enough to extend the territorial bounds of Christendom by his sword; Count Roger forbids conversions. but he found, as his great-grandson found after him, that in war no followers were to be trusted like the misbelievers. Once enlisted in his service, they had no motive to forsake him for any other Christian leader, while they had no hope of restoring the supremacy of their own faith. With them too neither Clement nor Urban, nor any votary of Clement or Urban, had any weight. So useful a class of warriors was not to be lessened in number. Whatever might be his missionary zeal at Palermo or Syracuse, Count Roger allowed no conversions in the camp before Capua. The men who were ready to hearken to Anselm’s teaching had to turn away at the bidding of their temporal lord, and the father of Christian theology was forbidden the rare glory of winning willing proselytes to the Christian faith among the votaries of Islam.[1664]

Anselm wishes to resign the archbishopric. Meanwhile the tales of William’s misdoings in Normandy and England were brought in day by day. The heart of Anselm was moved ever more and more; he saw that, come what might, he and such a king could never agree; the only course for him was to cast aside the grievous burthen and responsibility of his archbishopric. He earnestly craved the Pontiff’s leave to resign it into his hands.[1665] Urban was far too wary for this. Urban forbids him. He enjoined Anselm, by virtue of holy obedience, to do no such thing. The King, in his tyranny, might seize his temporalities and might keep him out of the land; but in the eye of the Church he remained none the less the Archbishop of the English kingdom, with his power of binding and loosing as strong as ever.[1666] Anselm was not only not to give up his office; he was to make a point of always appearing with the full badges of his office.[1667] Even now Anselm seems to have been in some difficulties how to reconcile his two duties to God and to Cæsar, difficulties which he would doubtless have got rid of altogether by resigning the archbishopric.[1668] But he submits to the Pontiff’s will, and he is bidden to meet him again at Bari, where judgement will be given in the matter of the King of the English and of all others who interfere with the liberties of the Church.[1669]

Council of Bari. October 1, 1098. Then came the meeting at Bari, the disputation against the Greeks, the excommunication of Rufus stopped by Anselm’s intercession.[1670] That Anselm was playing an arranged part we cannot believe for a moment; but we may believe, without breach of charity, that Urban threatened the excommunication of Rufus in the full belief that Anselm would intercede for him. Anselm at Rome. Urban and Anselm then went back to Rome; and thither presently came the messenger from Normandy, who had to tell of the King’s frightful threats towards himself. William of Warelwast and Urban. Soon after came William of Warelwast, with a message from the King to the Pope. The diplomacy of the future bishop of Exeter was at least straightforward. “My lord the King sends you word that he wonders not a little how it can have come into your mind to address him for the restitution of the goods of Anselm.” He added, “If you ask the reason, here it is. When Anselm wished to depart from his land, the King openly threatened him that, if he went, he should take the whole archbishopric into his demesne. Since Anselm then would not, even when thus threatened, give up his purpose of going, the King deems that his own acts were right, and that he is now wrongfully blamed.”[1671] The Pope asked whether the King had any other charge against Anselm. “None,” answered the envoy. Urban had gained an advantage. Urban’s answer. He poured forth his wonder at a thing so unheard of in all time as that a king should spoil the primate of his kingdom of all his goods merely because he would not refrain from visiting the Roman Church, the mother of all churches.[1672] Excommunication threatened. William of Warelwast might go back to his master, and might tell him that the Pope meant to hold a council at Rome in the April 12, 1099. Easter-week next to come, and that, if by that time Anselm was not restored to all that he had lost, the sentence of excommunication should go forth.[1673]

Brave words were these of Pope Urban, but William the Red knew how to deal with mere bravery of words, even in the Pope whom he had acknowledged. Walter of Albano had once outwitted William and his counsellors; but Walter of Albano had in the end yielded to William’s most powerful argument. William of Warelwast’s secret dealings with Urban. William of Warelwast was not the least likely to outwit Urban; but he had it in commission from his master to overcome the Pope by the same logic by which his Legate had been overcome. We may copy the words of our own Chronicler four-and-twenty years later; “That overcame Rome that overcometh all the world, that is gold and silver.”[1674] To Urban’s well conceived speech the answer of William of Warelwast was pithy and practical; “Before I go The excommunication respited. away, I will have some dealings with you more in private.”[1675] He went to work prudently, as the Red King’s clerks knew how to do; he made friends here and there; the Pope’s advisers were blinded; the Pope himself was blinded; April-September, 1099. a respite from Easter to Michaelmas was granted to King William of England.[1676]

Position of Anselm. This adjournment was a heavy blow for Anselm. He had in no way stirred up the Pope to any action against the prince whom he still acknowledged as his sovereign. At Bari, when no answer had as yet been received from the King, Anselm had pleaded for him; it was indeed only common justice to give him that one more chance. But, when the answer had come, and had proved to be of such a kind as we have seen, Anselm most likely thought that the time for action had come. He might indeed fairly deem that the excommunication would in truth be an act of kindness towards William. All other means of reclaiming the sinner had failed; that final and most awful means might at last succeed. At all events, Anselm’s soul was grieved to the quick at the thought that the Pope’s sentence, whatever it might be, could be changed or delayed by the power of filthy lucre. Urban’s treatment of Anselm. He had borne every kind of grief, he had borne insults and banishment and the spoiling of his goods, for the sake of Rome and the Pope, and he had now found out what Rome and the Pope were. He had found that the master was no better than his servants. He had found Rome to be what Rome was ever found to be by every English bishop, by every Englishman by birth or adoption, who ever trusted in her. Urban proved the same broken reed to Anselm which Alexander in after days proved to Thomas. Anselm had gone through much in order to have the counsel and help of the Pope. But no counsel or help had he found in him.[1677] Anselm made to stay for the Council of Lateran, April 12, 1099. He craved leave to depart from Rome, and again to tarry at Lyons with a friend in whom he could better trust, the Primate of all the Gauls.[1678] The request was refused. Urban had still to make use of Anselm for his own purposes. He had to show his guest and the Church’s confessor—​the guest and confessor whom he had sold for William’s gold—​to the whole world in his Lateran Council. The special honours which were there paid to Anselm must have been felt by him as little more than a mockery. Protest of Reingar of Lucca. It may have been a preconcerted scene, it may have been a burst of honest indignation, when Reingar, Bishop of Lucca, bore an emphatic witness on Anselm’s side. Reingar, chosen on account of his lofty stature and sounding voice to announce the decrees of the Council, broke forth in words of his own declaring the holiness and the wrongs of the Archbishop of the English, and thrice smote his staff on the floor with quivering lips and teeth gnashed together.[1679] The Pope checked him; Reingar protested, and renewed his protest. Anselm simply wondered; he had never said a word to the Bishop of Lucca on any such matter, nor did he believe that any of his faithful followers had done so either.[1680]

End of the Council. The council broke up. The great general anathema was pronounced which would take in William along with the other princes of the earth;[1681] but nothing was said or done directly for Anselm or his cause.[1682] Anselm goes to Lyons. Anselm now at last left Rome for Lyons. He there heard of the deaths both of him who was to issue the excommunication and of him against whom it was to be issued. Death of Urban. July. 29, 1099. Urban did not live to hear how his preaching at Clermont was crowned by the deliverance of the Holy City. Yet the work was done while he still lived. Fourteen days after the storm of Jerusalem, seven days after the election William’s words on his death. of King Godfrey, Pope Urban died. The news of his death was brought to William while he was in the midst of his last warfare for Le Mans. Let God’s hate, he answered, be upon him who cares whether he be dead or alive.[1683] Battle of Ascalon. August 12, 1099. Fourteen days after Urban’s death, the hosts of Egypt were smitten at Ascalon; and the city which had just been won was again made safe. The next day a fresh Pope was chosen, Paschal, who, in the course of a long reign, had to strive alike with a Henry of Germany and Paschal the Second, Pope. August 13, 1099-January 21, 1118.with a Henry of England. The news of his election was brought to William, and he asked what manner of man the new Pope might be. He was told that he was a man in many things like Archbishop Anselm. “Then by God’s face,” said the Red King, “if he be such an one, he is no good.” But William felt that his wished for time was now William’s words on Paschal’s election.come. Now at least there should be no trouble about acknowledging Popes against his will. “Let the Pope be what he will, he and his popedom shall not this time come over me by little and little. I have got my freedom again, and I will use it.”[1684] The time fixed for the excommunication passed unmarked over the head of the living Rufus. But before a full year had passed from Paschal’s election, the dead Rufus was excommunicated by the voice of his own kingdom.

We leave Anselm at Lyons; we shall meet him again when he comes back in all honour to crown and to marry a king and a queen who filled the English throne by the free call of the English people. Meanwhile we must take up the thread of our story, and see more fully what has been happening in the other lands which come within the Red King’s world, while Anselm was so long and so wearily striving for righteousness. The tale of Normandy, the tale of Jerusalem, so far as it concerned us to tell it, could hardly be kept apart from the tale of Anselm. But we have still to tell the tale of Scotland, of Northumberland, of Wales, of France, above all the tale of Maine and its noble Count, during the years through which we have tracked the history of Anselm. We have to go back to the beginning of the story through which we have just passed, and to begin afresh while Rufus in his short day of penitence lies on his sick-bed at Gloucester.