IHSP

Selected Sources Full Text Sources Saints' Lives Law Texts Maps Medieval Films Search Help

William of Newburgh: Book One

Book One | Book Two | Book Three | Book Four | Book Five | Introduction

Index:

• Prefatory Epistle
• Preface
• Chapter 1: Of William the Bastard, first Norman king of England
• Chapter 2: Of William Rufus, the second Norman king of England, and of the expedition to Jerusalem
• Chapter 3: Of Henry, the third Norman king of England, and of certain events which occurred during his reign
• Chapter 4: In what manner Stephen seized on England, in violation of his oath
• Chapter 5: Of the auspicious commencement of Stephen's Reign
• Chapter 6: Of Roger, bishop of Salisbury, and Alexander, bishop of Lincoln, and their capture by King Stephen
• Chapter 7: How Stephen lost his royal authority, together with Normandy
• Chapter 8: The capture of King Stephen at Lincoln
• Chapter 9: How King Stephen was liberated in consequences of the capture of the Earl of Gloucester
• Chapter 10: Of the flight of the Empress from Oxford, and of the council at London
• Chapter 11: Of the impious life and correspondent death of Geoffrey de Mandeville
• Chapter 12: Of Robert Marmiun, and his death
• Chapter 13: Of the various misfortunes which befell King Stephen
• Chapter 14: Of Thurstan, archbishop of York, and of the Foundation of the abbeys of Rievaulx and Fountains
• Chapter 15: Of the foundation of Byland
• Chapter 16: Of Gilbert of Sempringham, and of the order which he instituted
• Chapter 17: In what manner William, archbishop of York, was deposed, he not having received the pall, and how Henry succeeded
• Chapter 18: Of the cause of the Second Crusade to Jerusalem
• Chapter 19: Of the heresy of Eudo de Stella, and his death
• Chapter 20: How the emperor Conrad and king Louis led their forces into the East
• Chapter 21: Of Raymond, prince of Antioch; and of the capture of Ascalon
• Chapter 22: Of the unsettled state of domestic affairs under king Stephen
• Chapter 23: Of David, king of Scotland, and his son and grandchildren
• Chapter 24: Of bishop Wimund, his life unbecoming a bishop, and how he was deprived of his sight
• Chapter 25: Of Malcolm the most Christian king of the Scots
• Chapter 26: Of the appointment of Hugh, bishop of Durham, and the restoration of William of York, and his death
• Chapter 27: Of the Green Children
• Chapter 28: Of certain prodigies
• Chapter 29: Of the exploits of Henry II in England, during his dukedom
• Chapter 30: Of the treaty between king Stephen and prince Henry
• Chapter 31: Of the divorce of the king of France from his wife, and of her marriage with the future king of England
• Chapter 32: Of the council at London, and the death of king Stephen

THE HISTORY OF WILLIAM OF NEWBURGH

THE PREFATORY EPISTLE

A prefatory and apologetic Epistle to the ensuing work, addressed to the abbot of Rievaulx, by William, canon of Newburgh.

[1] To his reverend father and lord, Ernald, abbot of Rievaulx, William, the least of the servants of Christ, prayeth, that when the Prince of Shepherds shall appear, there may be given to him an unfading crown of glory.

[2] I have received the letters of your holiness, wherein you deign to assign to me the care and labor of writing (for the knowledge and instruction of posterity) a history of the memorable events which have so abundantly occurred in our own times; although there be so many of your own venerable fraternity better qualified to accomplish such a work, and that more elegantly; but this, I perceive, arises from your kind desire to spare, in this respect, the members of your own society, who are so fully occupied in the duties of monastic service, as well as to prevent the leisure hours kindly granted to my infirmity from being unemployed. Indeed, I am so devotedly bound by your kind regard to me, that, even were your commands more difficult, I should not venture to gainsay them; but since your cautious discrimination does not impose upon me any research into profound matters or mystical exposition, but merely to expatiate, for a time, on historic narrative, as it were for mental recreation only (so easy is the work), I have, consequently, no sufficient ground of refusal remaining. Wherefore, by the assistance of God and our Lord, in whose bands both of us and our words are, and relying on the prayers of yourself and your holy brotherhood, who have condescended to unite their repeated entreaties to the command of your holiness, I will attempt the labor you recommend; premising, however, some few necessary matters before I commence my history.

HERE ENDS THE EPISTLE. <to index>

THE PREFACE TO THE ENSUING HISTORY <to index>

[1] The history of our English nation has been written by the venerable Bede, a priest and monk, who, the more readily to gain the object he had in view, commenced his narrative at a very remote period, though he only glanced, with cautious brevity, at the more prominent actions of the Britons, who are known to have been the aborigines of our island. The Britons, however, had before him a historian of their own, from whose work Bede has inserted an extract; this fact I observed some years since, when I accidentally discovered a copy of the work of Gildas. His history, however, is rarely to be found, for few persons care either to transcribe or possess it, his style being so coarse and unpolished; his impartiality, however, is strong in developing truth, for he never spares even his own countrymen; he touches lightly upon their good qualities, and laments their numerous bad ones: there can be no suspicion that the truth is disguised, when a Briton, speaking of Britons, declares, that they were neither courageous in war, nor faithful in peace.

[2] For the purpose of washing out those stains from the character of the Britons, a writer in our times has started up and invented the most ridiculous fictions concerning them, and with unblushing effrontery, extols them far above the Macedonians and Romans. He is called Geoffrey, surnamed Arthur, from having given, in a Latin version, the fabulous exploits of Arthur, drawn from the traditional fictions of the Britons, with additions of his own, and endeavored to dignify them with the name of authentic history; moreover, he has unscrupulously promulgated the mendacious predictions of one Merlin, as if they were genuine prophecies, corroborated by indubitable truth, to which also he has himself considerably added during the process of translating them into Latin. He further declares that this Merlin was the issue of a demon and woman, and, as participating in his father's nature, attributes to him the most exact and extensive knowledge of futurity; whereas, we are rightly taught, by reason and the holy scriptures, that devils, being excluded from the light of God, can never by meditation arrive at the cognizance of future events; though by the means of some types, more evident to them than to us, they may predict events to come rather by conjecture than by certain knowledge. Moreover, even in their conjectures, subtle though they be, they often deceive themselves as well as others. Nevertheless, they impose on the ignorant by their feigned divinations, and arrogate to themselves a prescience which, in truth, they do not possess. The fallacies of Merlin's prophecies are, indeed, evident in circumstances which are known to have transpired in the kingdom of England after the death of Geoffrey himself, who translated these follies from the British language, to which, as is truly believed, he added much from his own invention.

[3] Besides, he so accommodated his prophetic fancies, as he easily might do, to circumstances occurring previous to, or during, his own times, that they might obtain a suitable interpretation. Moreover, no one but a person ignorant of ancient history, when he meets with that book which he calls the History of the Britons, can for a moment doubt how impertinently and impudently he falsifies in every respect. For he only who has not learnt the truth of history indiscreetly believes the absurdity of fable. I omit this man's inventions concerning the exploits of the Britons previous to the government of Julius Caesar, as well as the fictions of others which he has recorded, as if they were authentic. I make no mention of his fulsome praise of the Britons, in defiance of the truth of history, from the time of Julius Caesar, when they came under the dominion of the Romans, to that of Honorius, when the Romans voluntarily retired from Britain, on account of the more urgent necessities of their own state.

[4] Indeed, the Britons, by the retreat of the Romans, becoming once more at their own disposal -- nay, left to themselves for their own destruction, and exposed to the depredation of the Picts and Scots -- are said to have had Vortigern for king, by whom the Saxons, or Angles, were invited over for the defense of the kingdom: they arrived in Britain under the conduct of Hengist, and repelled the irruptions of the barbarians for a time; but afterward, having discovered the fertility of the land, and the supineness of its inhabitants, they broke their treaty, and turned their arms against those by whom they bad been invited over, and confined the miserable remains of the people, now called the Welsh who had not been dispersed -- within inaccessible woods and mountains. The Saxons, moreover, had, in the course of succession, most valiant and powerful kings; among whom was Ethelberht, great-grandson of Hengist, who, having extended his empire from the Gallic ocean to the Humber, embraced the easy yoke of Christ at the preaching of Augustine. Alfred, too, king of Northumberland, subdued both the Britons and the Scots with excessive slaughter. Edwin, who succeeded Alfred, reigned at the same time over the Angles and Britons; Oswald, his successor, governed all the nations of Britain.

[5] Now, since it is evident that these facts are established with historical authenticity by the venerable Bede, it appears that whatever Geoffrey has written, subsequent to Vortigern, either of Arthur, or his successors, or predecessors, is a fiction, invented either by himself or by others, and promulgated either through an unchecked propensity to falsehood, or a desire to please the Britons, of whom vast numbers are said to be so stupid as to assert that Arthur is yet to come, and who cannot bear to hear of his death. Lastly, he makes Aurelius Ambrosius succeed to Vortigern (the Saxons whom he had sent for being conquered and expelled), and pretends that he governed all England superexcellently; he also mentions Utherpendragon, his brother, as his successor, whom, he pretends, reigned with equal power and glory, adding a vast deal from Merlin, out of his profuse addiction to lying. On the decease of Utherpendragon, he makes his son Arthur succeed to the kingdom of Britain -- the fourth in succession from Vortigern, in like manner as our Bede places Ethelberht, the patron of Augustine, fourth from Hengist in the government of the Angles. Therefore, the reign of Arthur, and the arrival of Augustine in England, ought to coincide.

[6] But how much plain historical truth outweighs concerted fiction may, in this particular, be perceived even by a purblind man through his mind's eye. Moreover, he depicts Arthur himself as great and powerful beyond all men, and as celebrated in his exploits as he chose to feign him. First, he makes him triumph, at pleasure, over Angles, Picts, and Scots; then, he subdues Ireland, the Orkneys, Gothland, Norway, Denmark, partly by war, partly by the single terror of his name. To these he adds Iceland, which, by some, is called the remotest Thule, in order that what a noble poet flatteringly said to the Roman Augustus, "The distant Thule shall confess thy sway," might apply to the British Arthur. Next, he makes him attack, and speedily triumph over, Gaul -- a nation which Julius Caesar, with infinite peril and labor, was scarcely able to subjugate in ten years -- as though the little finger of the British was more powerful than the loins of the mighty Caesar. After this, with numberless triumphs, he brings him back to England, where he celebrates his conquests with a splendid banquet with his subject-kings and princes, in the presence of the three archbishops of the Britons, that is London, Carleon, and York -- whereas, the Britons at that time never had an archbishop. Augustine, having received the pall from the Roman pontiff, was made the first archbishop in Britain; for the barbarous nations of Europe, though long since converted to the Christian faith, were content with bishops, and did not regard the prerogative of the pall. Lastly, the Irish, Norwegians, Danes, and Goths, though confessedly Christians, for a long while possessed only bishops, and had no archbishops until our own time.

[7] Next this fabler, to carry his Arthur to the highest summit, makes him declare war against the Romans, having, however, first vanquished a giant of surprising magnitude in single combat, though since the times of David we never read of giants. Then, with a wider license of fabrication, he brings all the kings of the world in league with the Romans against him; that is to say, the kings of Greece, Africa, Spain, Parthia, Media, Iturea, Libya, Egypt, Babylon, Bithynia, Phrygia, Syria, Boeotia, and Crete, and he relates that all of them were conquered by him in a single battle; whereas, even Alexander the Great, renowned throughout all ages, was engaged for twelve years in vanquishing only a few of the potentates of these mighty kingdoms. Indeed, he makes the little finger of his Arthur more powerful than the loins of Alexander the Great; more especially when, previous to the victory over so many kings, he introduces him relating to his comrades the subjugation of thirty kingdoms by his and their united efforts; whereas, in fact, this romancer will not find in the world so many kingdoms, in addition to those mentioned, which he had not yet subdued. Does he dream of another world possessing countless kingdoms, in which the circumstances he has related took place? Certainly, in our own orb no such events have happened. For how would the elder historians, who were ever anxious to omit nothing remarkable, and even recorded trivial circumstances, pass by unnoticed so incomparable a man, and such surpassing deeds? How could they, I repeat, by their silence, suppress Arthur, the British monarch (superior to Alexander the Great), and his deeds, or Merlin, the British prophet (the rival of Isaiah), and his prophecies? For what less in the knowledge of future events does he attribute to this Merlin than we do to Isaiah, except, indeed, that he durst not prefix to his productions, "Thus saith the Lord" and was ashamed to say, "Thus saith the Devil," though this had been best suited to a prophet the offspring of a demon.

[8] Since, therefore, the ancient historians make not the slightest mention of these matters, it is plain that whatever this man published of Arthur and of Merlin are mendacious fictions, invented to gratify the curiosity of the undiscerning. Moreover, it is to be noted that he subsequently relates that the same Arthur was mortally wounded in battle, and that, after having disposed of his kingdom he retired into the island of Avallon, according to the British fables, to be cured of his wounds; not daring, through fear of the Britons, to assert that he was dead -- he whom these truly silly Britons declare is still to come. Of the successors of Arthur he feigns, with similar effrontery, giving them the monarchy of Britain, even to the seventh generation, making those noble kings of the Angles (whom the venerable Bede declares to have been monarchs of Britain) their slaves and vassals.

[9] Therefore, let Bede, of whose wisdom and integrity none can doubt, possess our unbounded confidence, and let this fabler, with his fictions, be instantly rejected by all.

[10] There were not wanting, indeed, some writers after Bede, but none at all to be compared with him, who detailed from his days the series of times and events of our island until our own recollection; men deserving of praise for their zealous and faithful labors, though their narrative be homely. In our times, indeed, events so great and memorable have occurred, that, if they be not transmitted to lasting memory by written documents, the negligence of the moderns must be deservedly blamed. Perhaps a work of this kind is already begun, or even finished, by one or more persons, but, nevertheless, some venerable characters, to whom we owe obedience, have deigned to enjoin such a labor, even to so insignificant a person as myself, in order that I, who am unable to make my offerings with the rich, may yet be permitted, with the poor widow, to cast somewhat of my poverty into the treasury of the Lord: and, since we are aware that the series of English history has been brought down by some to the decease of king Henry the first, beginning at the arrival of the Normans in England, land, I shall succinctly describe the intermediate time, that, by the permission of God, I may give a more copious narrative from Stephen, Henry's successor, in whose first year I, William, the least of the servants of Christ, was born unto death in the first Adam, and born again unto life in the second.

HERE BEGINS THE FIRST BOOK

Chapter 1: Of William the Bastard, first Norman king of England. <to index>

[1] In the year one thousand and sixty-six from the fullness of time, in which the Word was made flesh and dwelt amongst us, William, surnamed the Bastard, duke of Normandy, either through a lawless desire of dominion, or a yearning to avenge the injuries which he had received, waged war against Harold, king of England. The latter falling by the chance of battle, and the English being defeated and subdued, William united the kingdom of England to the duchy of Normandy. On the completion of his victory -- as he abominated the name of an usurper, and was anxious to assume the character of a legitimate sovereign -- he commanded Stigand, at that time archbishop of Canterbury, to consecrate him king in due form. This prelate, however, would not by any means consent to lay hand's on a man who, to use his own expression, was stained with blood, and the invader of another's right. But Aldred, archbishop of York, a worthy and prudent man, wisely foreseeing the necessity of yielding to the times, and observing that God's appointment was not to be resisted, performed the office of consecration. By these means he conciliated William, who was still breathing threatenings and slaughter against the people, and bound him by a sacred oath to preserve and defend the civil and ecclesiastical government. After this, he regarded Aldred in such a parental light, that although he governed others, yet he calmly suffered himself to be ruled by him. Once, indeed, it happened that this pontiff, meeting with a repulse from the king relative to some petition which he had urged, angrily turned his back in retiring, and threatened him with a curse instead of a blessing. The king, unable to bear his displeasure, fell at his feet, entreating forgiveness, and promising amendment; and when the nobles, who stood by, besought the bishop to raise the prostrate monarch, he replied, "Let him lie at the feet of Peter." This circumstance plainly indicates the high respect which this ferocious prince entertained for the prelate, as well as the authority, aid ascendancy which Aldred possessed over him.

[2] The king, moreover, being incensed (as it has been stated already) against Stigand, archbishop of Canterbury, on learning the informality of his consecration, and afterwards the immorality of his life, became desirous of taking fitting vengeance upon him; for this purpose, the legate of the apostolic see, being summoned by the king's letter to regulate the church of England, held a council in the kingdom, wherein the crimes of Stigand being in detected, the unfruitful tree was cut down with the axe of canonical censure, and his place was supplied by Lanfranc, formerly a monk of Bec, then abbot of Caen, a Lombard by nation, a man who, in addition to the purity of his religious life, was celebrated for literature, both secular and divine. When Aldred archbishop of York, was gathered to his fathers, he was succeeded by Thomas.

[3] William, however, after honorably holding for twenty-one years the kingdom which he had so bravely acquired, died; and in his last sickness he appointed his three sons to be his heirs. He willed, indeed, that his firstborn, Robert, in consequence of his want of filial duty, and his rebellious disposition, should be content with the duchy of Normandy; but to his son William, with whom he was better pleased, he bequeathed the kingdom of England. Further, he predicted every good thing of Henry, his younger son, whose disposition he fondly commended, and to whom he left a splendid fortune.

[4] Thus William slept with his fathers; a man from childhood enterprising in arms, great in mind, blessed with success, and the ornament of bastardy. He lies buried at Caen, in the monastery of the protomartyr Stephen, which he had entirely built, and splendidly endowed. I learn, moreover, from credible relation, that a remarkable occurrence took place at his funeral. For when the celebration of his obsequies was concluded, and the body was about to be consigned to its destined receptacle, a man approached, and terribly invoking the name of the Almighty, forbade his burial in that place. "That ground," he exclaimed, "is mine by ancestral right, which the king took from me by force, when he was building the monastery; and never afterwards has he made me any compensation for it." All present were astonished at the judgment of God, deeming it done as an express manifestation of the emptiness of transitory domination -- that this most potent prince, whose sway, during life, extended so far, could not, when dead, obtain quiet possession of ground enough for his own body. Finally, all were so moved by this claim, that they first satisfied this living dog, as the better of the two, according to his demands, and then performed all due solemnities to the dead lion. Indeed, whatever degree of glory among men this Christian man obtained, by attacking, in hostile manner, harmless Christians, and gaining to himself a kingdom by Christian blood, the same was his degree of guilt in the sight of God. A proof of this I have heard from credible witnesses. In the place where the vanquished English were slain, a noble monastery, called St. Martin of Battle, was built by the victors, to be a lasting monument, at once to man as a memorial of the Norman conquest, and also to God as a propitiation for the effusion of so much Christian blood. Finally, within this monastery, the spot where the greatest slaughter of the English was made, who were fighting for their country, after every gentle shower, there exudes real, and as it were recent, blood, as though it were evidently proclaiming by this circumstance, that the voice of so much Christian gore still cries to the Lord from the ground, which hath opened her mouth, and drunk in that blood at the hands of Christian brethren.

Chapter 2: Of William Rufus, the second Norman king of England, and of the expedition to Jerusalem <to index>

[1] In the year one thousand and eighty-seven from the fullness of time in which the Truth arose from the earth, Robert, the eldest son, succeeded his father in the duchy of Normandy, and William, surnamed Rufus, in the kingdom of England; this was in inverted order, it is true, but it was so ordained (as has already been said) by the last will of their father. In consequence of this, some of the nobility inclined to Robert, as the lawful heir, who was unjustly deprived, and thus they disturbed the tranquillity of the kingdom. At first, William governed but feebly, and with difficulty; but to conciliate the minds of his subjects, he conducted himself with modesty and mildness; the moment, however, that his empire was firmly established by the subjugation of his enemies, and the indolence of his brother, his heart was elevated. He appeared to be in prosperity (what in adversity he had carefully concealed) a man void of understanding, and inconstant in all his ways, impious towards God and grievous to the church; a disregarder of marriage, thoroughly wanton, draining the resources of the kingdom by the most lavish expenditure, and, when these failed, seizing on the property of his subjects for such like purposes. He was a model of the most consummate pride; and, in disgust at, or even in derision of, divine truth, altogether wallowed in the foulest sensuality of temporal glory.

[2] His elder brother, Robert (to whom, indeed, the succession to the crown pertained in natural order) was of a less haughty and ferocious disposition; but he proved, in the lesser administration of the duchy of Normandy, how incompetent he was for the management of an extensive monarchy. In arms, however, he was so conspicuous, that, in the great and famous expedition to Jerusalem, he was eminently distinguished for military glory among the noblest chieftains of the world. Henry, the younger born, a man of amiable disposition, engaged in war against his unnatural and faithless brothers -- for they, giving him nothing of their own, even defrauded him of what his father bad bequeathed him by will; and whilst they were envious of him, as he was gradually rising into notice, he prudently evaded stratagems, and secured his safety.

[3] About this time, Anselm, abbot of Bec, a holy man and mighty in the word of God, who also was a Lombard by nation, succeeded Lanfranc, archbishop of Canterbury, who now went the way of all flesh; he had formerly been his pupil. Gerard, too, succeeded to the archbishopric of York, on the death of Thomas.

[4] During this king's reign the Lord stirred up the spirit of the Christians against the Saracens, who had, by the hidden decree of God, so long possessed, as it were by hereditary right, the sanctuary of the Lord, that is to say, those holy places where our redemption was consummated. In consequence of this, a vast concourse of Christian people was gathered together by the pious labors of Urban, the Roman pontiff, and other servants of God. The most valiant princes, distinguished by the ensign of Christ, and accompanied by a numerous army, after a most toilsome march, penetrated to the kingdoms of the East; and by their pious and successful exertions, captured those magnificent cities, Nicea in Bithynia, and Antioch in Syria; and, ultimately, the Holy City itself; among those leaders, Robert, duke of Normandy, was signally conspicuous. When preparing for this expedition with the other Christian princes, he, finding his pecuniary resources insufficient, pledged Normandy to his brother William for a considerable sum. He then entered on this meritorious expedition with the other Christian princes, and having finished his career successfully, returned, after many years absence, to his own country.

[5] King William, however, prolonging his iniquitous course, and to his own destruction kicking against the pricks, could not endure the venerable Anselm, who reproved him with meekness, and endeavored to restrain the enormities which were committed either by himself or by his connivance, but expelled him from England, after having robbed him of nearly all his property, and branded him as a rebel. Thus, while matters were conducted valiantly and prosperously by our own princes in the East, the king, hurried on to his own destruction by his vices, met with an end suitable to his unbridled pride. For, while engaged in bunting, this most ferocious of men was struck, instead of a wild beast, by the arrow of a knight of his own, and verified the saying of the Psalmist, "I myself have seen the ungodly in great power, and flourishing like a green bay-tree. I went by, and, lo, he was gone; I sought him, but his place could nowhere be found." [Ps. 37:36, 37.]

Chapter 3: Of Henry, the third Norman king of England, and of certain events which occurred during his reign <to index>

[1] In the eleven hundredth year from the fullness of time in which God sent His Son into the world, king William being lamentably dead, Henry, his brother, succeeded to the throne. He was the last, in point of birth, of the sons of William the Great, but first in dignity; for while the others were born during the dukedom of their father, he alone was his offspring as king. Induced by this reason, and moreover captivated by his amiable disposition, the prelates and nobles of England determined solemnly to consecrate Henry as their king, whom they knew, by evident tokens, to be adequate to the discharge of the office, and not to wait for Robert, who was still occupied in the East, and whose incompetency to govern a kingdom had been manifested by the mal-administration of his duchy.

[2] Henry, following wholesome advice, quickly recalled the venerable Anselm from exile, abolished the pernicious practices which had obtained during his brother's administration, established laws for the preservation of peace and equity, as far as he was permitted, at the commencement of his reign, and for a time prudently connived at many things, lest his subjects should be terrified by sudden rigor. He wisely foresaw, as was really the case, that, whenever his brother Robert should return, there would be no lack of public disturbances: for his brother Robert, on his return from the Holy Land, with his wife, whom he had espoused by the way, recovered Normandy; and, at the instigation of some of the English nobles, to whom Henry had now become an object of alarm, he threatened his brother Henry with a war, unless he would resign the kingdom to him; moreover, he fitted out and commanded an armed fleet against England, which the revolters from the king quickly joined. This weak and irresolute man, however, being deluded by the prudence of his brother, returned to Normandy without effecting his purpose, and left the kingdom and its government unmolested. After some years residence in Normandy, which was being ruined through his own indolence, in not restraining, by the fear of public authority, those lawless persons who ravaged it at their pleasure, Henry, invited by the nobles of that province, proceeded thither, more out of kindness than enmity; and a great portion of it surrendering to him, he at length captured his brother, having routed his forces at Tinchebrai. Thus this man, great and renowned for valorous deeds in distant parts of the world, now betrayed by the malice of fortune, fell into the hands of his younger brother, whom he had formerly incensed, and, after acquiring surpassing fame in arms, spent the remainder of his life ingloriously in the custody of his brother, without experiencing much fraternal commiseration. Thus Henry, by uniting the duchy of Normandy to the kingdom of England, as his father had formerly united the kingdom of England to the duchy of Normandy, obtained a great and noble name among the mighty ones of the earth.

[3] Moreover, the venerable Anselm, archbishop of Canterbury, having returned to his see from exile in France, after some years, went the way of all flesh, and obtained a great name among the great who are in heaven. His successor was Ralph, abbot of Seez, a religious and prudent man. Gerard, archbishop of York, deceased, and was succeeded by Thomas the second, green in years, but, in gravity and simplicity of manners, very different from his predecessor. Indeed, this Gerard is allowed to have been an acute and learned man, but immoral in life, for he was skilled in levying contributions on his tenants on improper occasions; and, as many assert, he was also addicted to witchcraft, which made him hateful both to God and man; and this is evidenced by his fearful death, and the denial of pontifical obsequies to his corpse -- for while sleeping after dinner, in the open air, on his pillow in his garden, near his chamber at Southwell, he grew stiff in the sleep of death, while his clerks were amusing themselves close by. His body, accompanied by very few followers, was brought to York and irreverently interred without the church; neither the clergy nor going out to meet the funeral pomp, as was usual, while boys as it is reported, pelted the bier with stones.

[4] His successor, terrified by his example, washed his hands in the blood of this sinner, and conducted himself commendably in his office. He did not, however, live to an advanced age, but was snatched away, as I believe, lest wickedness should pervert his understanding. I learnt, from a person of unimpeachable veracity, a memorable incident connected with this man, which I cannot pass over. When confined by sickness, he was ordered by his physicians, as the sole means of removing his disorder, to partake of sexual intercourse. His friends pressed him to comply, alleging that God could not possibly be offended, as he did it merely as a remedy, and not for sensual gratification. He appeared to assent, that he might not distress them, and a woman of graceful appearance was admitted to his chamber. His physicians, however, afterwards declared, on inspecting his urine, that this compliance was feigned merely to satisfy his friends. On their reproaching him, as being in a measure accessory to his own death, in not obeying the prescription of his physicians, "Be silent," he said, "let no one insinuate the poison of such language to me any further, for I will not lose the immortal honor of chastity for the cure of perishable flesh." Thurstan, a good and prudent man, succeeded this person, who, it is believed, happily died of that disease, for the cure of which he would not offend God. Moreover, Ralph, archbishop of Canterbury, resting with his fathers William, who had been prior of the regular canons at Chiec, succeeded to his see. These were, we know, the successors of metropolitans under king Henry.

[5] This king had by Matilda, his religious queen, two children, a son and a daughter. His daughter (who was named after her mother) he affianced, when marriageable, to Henry the emperor of the Romans, who asked her in marriage. His son, however, who was regarded as his successor, and who was named after his grandfather, met with a melancholy accident when just arrived at manhood, and, with a party of young nobility, was given as a prey to the monsters of the deep.

[6] Matilda, having died, the king, in the hope of progeny, married the daughter of the duke of Lorraine, but had no issue by her; consequently, after the death of the emperor without heirs by his wife, he recalled his daughter from Germany, and gave her in marriage to Geoffrey, the illustrious count of Anjou, that he might have successors through her in his grandchildren. A conference being held, he made the bishops, earls, barons, and all persons of consequence, confirm by oath the kingdom of England, with the duchy of Normandy, to her, and to his grandchildren her issue. Thus Henry reigned, with great felicity and glory, thirty-five years and some months, at the expiration of which he slept with his fathers. He was a man adorned with many princely virtues, though he obscured them greatly by his concupiscence, in imitation of the lustfulness of Solomon. He was, also, immoderately attached to beasts of chase, and, from his ardent love of hunting, used little discrimination in his public punishments between deer killers and murderers. His body, after the extraction of the brains and intestines, was embalmed, sewed up in skins, and brought from Normandy to England, where it was interred at Reading, a monastery of which he had been the pious founder and munificent benefactor. The man, indeed, who had been hired, at great expense, to extract the brain, became infected, as it is said, from the intolerable stench, and died; and thus, as the body of the departed Elisha reanimated the dead, so Henry's dead body gave death to the living.

Chapter 4: In what manner Stephen seized on England, in violation of his oath <to index>

[1] In the one thousand one hundred and thirty-fifth year from the delivery of the Virgin, Henry, the most illustrious king of England, and duke of Normandy, being dead, but not yet buried, Stephen of Boulogne, his nephew on the sister's side, seized on the kingdom of England. Stephen the elder, count of Blois, had married the daughter of William the first, a noble lady, and had issue by her four sons. The count dying in the East, his widow, in her wisdom, setting aside her eldest born, as he was indolent, and appeared to be of degenerate nature, exalted her favorite son, Theobald, to the entire inheritance; she sent Stephen, yet a lad, to the king his uncle, to be educated and advanced; and that she might not seem to have borne children solely for secular purposes, she placed Henry, her fourth son, in the monastery at Cluny. In process of time, king Henry gave the only daughter of the count of Boulogne, to whom the inheritance pertained, to his nephew Stephen in marriage, bestowing upon him also large possessions in England. To his nephew Henry, a monk of Cluny, he gave the abbey of Glastonbury, and, after a time, advanced him to the bishopric of Winchester.

[2] When, therefore, as already said, king Henry died, Stephen, violating the oath, which he had sworn to king Henry's daughter, of preserving his fidelity, seized upon the kingdom; and in this he was aided by the prelates and nobles who were bound by the same oath: William, archbishop of Canterbury, who had sworn first, then consecrated him king, with the help and assistance of Roger, bishop of Salisbury, who was the second who had sworn, and had, moreover, administered the oath to every other individual. The archbishop, however, died in the very year of his apostasy, as a just punishment for his perjury, as it is believed. The bishop, too, ended his life, some years after, by a miserable death, the king himself becoming the minister of God's vengeance against him, as will be more fully detailed in its place. Still, perhaps, they might suppose that they were rendering service to God, whilst providing for the advancement of the church and the state by a perjury; for which a dispensation might be obtained, and also because there were many things which greatly incurred their displeasure, both in the morals and actions of the deceased king; they imagined, possibly, that a monarch, created solely by their favor would the more readily amend such enormities. Stephen, therefore, in order that he might be elevated to the throne equally against right both human and divine -- transgressing the one by not being the legitimate heir, and the other by his perfidy -- promised everything which the prelates and nobles demanded: but his want of faith rendered all these of no avail; for by the judgments of God that good, for the attainment of which those wise and powerful men had resolved on the commission of such an atrocious crime, was not permitted to take effect.

Chapter 5: Of the auspicious commencement of Stephen's Reign <to index>

[1] The first two years, indeed, of king Stephen's reign appeared to be fortunate, as David, king of the Scots, who had made an irruption on Northumberland beyond the river Tyne, was repulsed and vanquished with his forces: Baldwin de Redvers, who had rebelled against him, was subjugated and banished -- his affairs in Normandy were also conducted with spirit and success; but in the third and fourth years of his reign, evils began to multiply upon this perjured man, this breaker of the promises made at his advancement. Many of the most powerful of his barons rebelled; and, having exhausted the treasures of his uncle, he became himself less powerful and efficient.

[2] These were but the beginnings of evils: for while he was unsuccessfully engaged, in the southern parts of England, against those who had revolted and were committing hostilities upon him, the fury of the Scots having revived, they burst forth and obtained possession of Northumberland, which they wasted with the most savage plundering. Having passed the Tyne, they advanced as far as the river Tees, sparing neither sex nor age; nor did they there fix the limit of their ferocity, but confidently hoped to take possession of the whole province of the Deiri, together with the city of York. The inhabitants, despairing of assistance from the king or the provinces beyond the Humber, and animated by the admonitions of archbishop Thurstan, of pious memory, determined to fight for their lives, their wives and their children. They unanimously assembled against a host formidable for its cruelty, and made a stand not far from the river Tees; and though they were very inferior indeed in point of numbers, yet they were greatly superior to their enemies by confidence in the goodness and justice of their cause. The Scots, setting fire to their camp early in the morning, passed the river, and, contemning the paucity of their opponents, rushed boldly to the conflict. The battle was not of long continuance, where little or nothing was done by the sword; for the light-armed troops, galled by arrows from a distance, soon turned their backs, and left the victory and the field to our countrymen. It is related that many thousands of the Scots were slain in the battle, or in the flight, and king David, accompanied by few soldiers, but with much disgrace, fled to his own country. This battle was, by the assistance of God, successfully fought against the Scots, in the month of August, in the fourth year of the reign of king Stephen.

[3] Some months afterward, Alberic, bishop of Ostia, legate of the apostolic see, celebrated a council at London; in which Theobald, abbot of Bec, with the royal assent, took possession of the see of Canterbury.

Chapter 6: Of Roger, bishop of Salisbury, and Alexander, bishop of Lincoln, and their capture by King Stephen <to index>

[1] After this, the king, residing at Oxford, became so depraved by evil counsel, that, through his greediness for money, he laid his impious hands on ecclesiastics, and, paying no deference to holy orders, sullied his royal character with an indelible stain. Although but a short time before he had received, with apparent kindness, Roger of Salisbury, and Alexander of Lincoln, at that time the most noble and powerful bishops in England, yet on a sudden, as though they had been the vilest characters, and guilty of the most heinous crimes, he seized them, shut them up, and confined them with chains, as well as despoiled them of their property and castles.

[2] As the opportunity has here presented itself, I shall relate a few matters connected with the rise and advancement of this Roger; in order that, in his most melancholy end, the depth of the divine counsels may be contemplated. In the reign of William the younger, he was an indigent priest, living by his office, as it is said, in the suburbs of Caen. At the time when Henry the younger was engaged in war against the king his brother, during a journey, he accidentally turned with his companions into the church where Roger was officiating, and entreated him to say mass for him. The priest, granting the request, was as ready to begin as he was quick in getting through the service; in both of which he so pleased the soldiers, that they declared such a suitable chaplain for the military was nowhere else to be found. And when the royal youth said, "Follow me," he stuck as closely to him as Peter formerly did to the Lord of heaven, when he uttered the like command. For, as Peter left his boat and followed the King of kings, so this man quitted his church and followed the noble youth; and, being made chaplain at pleasure to him and his troops, he became a blind leader of the blind; and though he was almost illiterate, yet he was so subtle by nature, that in a short time be became dear to his lord, and managed his most private concerns. Afterwards, when his master became king, he advanced him to the bishopric of Salisbury, as having deserved well of him, both before and during his reign; and, moreover, as to a person approved in many things, faithful and industrious, he entrusted him with the management of public affairs, that he might be not only distinguished in the church, but even the second person in the kingdom.

[3] At last, from his ecclesiastical and secular offices, having obtained ample opportunities for the exercise of his avarice, he accumulated immense wealth, not for the purpose of dispersing abroad and giving to the poor, but of applying it to the most vain-glorious uses. He built, at Devizes and Sherbourn, two noble castles of the costliest workmanship, ostentatiously anxious that they should be beyond comparison in the kingdom, He also obtained from the king, who denied him nothing, the see of Lincoln for his nephew Alexander. This man, being also of a lavish disposition, and emulating his uncle, erected two splendid castles,' at a most profuse expense; but since buildings of this nature seemed ill to accord with the episcopal character, in order to remove the odium incident to such erections, and, as it were, to obliterate the stain, he founded the same number of monasteries, and filled them with religious societies. And when the illustrious king Henry exacted from all the prelates and nobles of the realm the oath to observe fidelity to his daughter in the succession of the kingdom, the bishop of Salisbury (as it is mentioned above) not only readily took the oath himself, but, like a prudent man and second to the king, carefully explained it, as the king required him to do, for the information of those who were about to swear. But on the death of Henry, who had been the author of all his temporal grandeur, he was faithless towards his lawful heirs, in order that he might entice Stephen to join his party, who was bound in the same obligation; and thus not only was he fearless of committing perjury himself, but he gave a memorable example of it to others.

[4] On the advancement of Stephen to the throne, he conducted himself in such a manner towards him, as to prove, by his devotion to his cause, the singular confidence which he reposed in him. Stephen was, however, ungrateful for these benefits, and was appointed God's avenger against this very bishop, whose deeds were never consistent with his dignity; and so did he distress him, as though he had been a person of no importance, first by imprisonment, then by want of food, and lastly by the threat of inflicting punishment upon his nephew (who bad been the king's chancellor), that he gave up the two noble castles, in which his treasures were deposited. The poignancy of his grief at this occurrence manifested bow deeply the poison of worldly love bad infected his heart: for, according to that most just remark of St. Gregory, "The love of temporal things, when possessed, bears exact proportion to the grief which is suffered at their loss." At length, the aged bishop, worn down with grief and driven to madness, was induced both to do and to say things utterly unbecoming, excited thereto by the loss of those things in the building up and accumulating of which he had so extremely offended God; and he concluded a most conspicuous life by a most lamentable death, through divine appointment. Alexander, bishop of Lincoln, who had been made captive with him, was harassed by similar methods to resign the fortresses he had built; and on relinquishing them he was released, though not without difficulty. If he were wise, he must have revered the divine judgments inflicted on him, and resolved on more prudent occupations. These proceedings, however, did not produce favorable results to the king, though he had been the rod of God's fury against these memorable bishops; for, instigated either by personal hatred or anxiety after money, he paid very little deference to the, sacred orders, as the sequel will show.

Chapter 7: How Stephen lost his royal authority, together with Normandy <to index>

After a few days had elapsed, the empress Matilda, daughter of king Henry, came into England, and excited the compunction of many of the nobility, when they remembered the oath of succession which they had formerly taken to her; while others, from their own feelings, had little dread at opposing king Stephen. Thus was the kingdom divided, some favoring and assisting the king, others the empress; and the divine saying was fulfilled "Every kingdom divided against itself is brought to desolation." [Luke 11:17] Thus England was by degrees so ravaged and wasted by hostile incursions on all sides, by rapine and by fire, that, from being the most flourishing, she now appeared the most desolate of kingdoms. All terror of regal dignity, all force of public discipline, had already vanished; and the fear of the law being removed, outrage and licentiousness roamed side by side. Evils were daily multiplying, the music of the church was turned into mourning, and the people bewailed their accumulated losses. Such being the posture of affairs in England, the count of Anjou overran Normandy with an army, and in a short space of time reduced it, in the name of his wife and son; no one opposing him who were competent to withstand his attacks. For he had wisely concerted with the king of France, who appeared to be in league with king Stephen, that no impediment on that side should arise to counteract the success of his designs.

Chapter 8: The capture of King Stephen at Lincoln <to index>

In the sixth year of his reign, king Stephen laid siege to the castle of Lincoln, which Ranulph, earl of Chester, had entered by stratagem, and still possessed; and the siege was protracted from Christmas to the Presentation of our Lord. To raise the siege, the earl brought with him the earl of Gloucester (natural son of king Henry), his father-in-law, and some other very intrepid nobles, with considerable forces, and announced to the king, that unless he should desist, they would attack him. The king, however, being aware of their arrival, had collected troops on all sides; and, disposing them without the city to receive their opponents, he prepared for the battle with perfect confidence; for he was himself a most courageous warrior, and was supported by superior numbers. In addition to this, the opposing army, wearied with a long winter's march, seemed more in need of rest to recruit its vigor, than calculated to encounter the perils of war. Still, however, though inferior in numbers and equipment, yet excelling in courage alone, and aware that, such a distance from home, there
could be no place of refuge in a hostile country, they rushed undauntedly to the conflict. Having dismounted, the king himself, with his company, ranged his cavalry in the vanguard, to give or to receive the first assault; but it being vanquished and put to flight by the first charge of the enemy's horse, the whole brunt of the battle fell upon the division in which was the king. Here the conflict raged most desperately, the king himself fighting very courageously amid the foremost; at length being captured, and his company dispersed, the victorious army triumphantly entered the city to plunder, while the royal captive was sent to the empress, and committed to custody at Bristol.

Chapter 9: How King Stephen was liberated in consequences of the capture of the Earl of Gloucester <to index>

[1] The defeat of the king becoming known, the empress gained the highest summit of power, and was honored with the favor of nearly the whole kingdom. But she showed herself to be unwise after she was advanced to that high pitch; for her recent successes made her so elevated in mind and haughty in speech, that, through her intolerable pride of sex, she incensed the yet-hesitating minds of the nobility against her. The citizens of London, also, although at first they had favorably received her, yet, disgusted at her pride, again rejected her. Irritated at this circumstance, she loaded the king with chains, who, by the judgment of God, had fallen into her hands, and had hitherto been indulgently treated; but by these very means she mitigated the severity of the divine dispensation concerning him, and (as appeared afterwards) accelerated his release. For, at the expiration of a few days, laying siege to the castle of the bishop of Winchester, with her uncle, the king of the Scots, and her brother Robert, she experienced the inconstancy of fortune; and, as her unbounded pride deserved, the loss of her former glory.

[2] At last the bishop, who was brother to the king, a man of great power in the kingdom, crafty and opulent beyond measure, and legate also of the apostolic see in England, sent for William of Sprees and the queen from Kent, which had alone remained unchanged by the king's calamity, and numbers out of other counties, who were irritated at the overbearing tyranny of the empress, to raise the siege. Now, when he had collected immense forces, for some days each army kept guard within their respective camps, and, with the exception of those who marched out for exercise, to make a show of their strength, appeared to be inactive. Vast forces, however, arriving from London, increased the party adverse to the empress to such a degree, that, unequal to the conflict, and leaving Winchester exposed to plunder, she made her escape by flight. In this retreat, her brother Robert, earl of Gloucester, with many others, was taken captive. David, king of Scotland, however, escaped from falling into the hands of his hostile pursuers by artifice; and, thanks to certain persons who conducted him cautiously through considerable alarms and perils, he arrived at his own country. Thus an interchange of those noble captives, the king and the earl, was effected; and hostilities still continuing, each was restored to his own party in exchange for the other.

Chapter 10: Of the flight of the Empress from Oxford, and of the council at London <to index>

[1] Perpetual discord still existed between the king and the empress; sometimes parties were equal, at another time one had the ascendancy; but this, in its turn, was subject to the uncertainty of fortune, as the sequel will disclose. For, in the following year, as king Stephen was building a fortress at Wilton, he was worsted by a sudden irruption of the enemy, and put to flight with considerable loss. In this affair William, surnamed Martel, the king's cup-bearer, was made prisoner, who afterwards purchased his liberation by resigning the noble castle of Shireburn. In the same year, by a change of fortune, the king besieged the empress, during some months, at Oxford. Wearied with the length of the siege, and meeting with an opportunity of escape, through the nature of the season, she took advantage of the darkness of the night, and of the whiteness of the snow, and in white garments crossed the river Thames, which was firmly frozen over, and passed to a place of greater security; and the king took possession of Oxford.

[2] By this success, which obliterated, in some measure, the disgrace of past events, after such multiplied proofs of God's chastening, or mercy, the king conducted himself, henceforward, more mildly towards the clergy; and was present, and affably granted his royal concurrence, at the council which was held the following year, at London, by Henry, bishop of Winchester, legate of the apostolic see, for the quiet and privileges of the clergy. For, as in consequence of the increase of evils in England, little deference was paid to the sacred order, and priest and people were nearly alike in every respect, it was ordained in this council, that whoever laid violent hands on an ecclesiastic, or a monk, should be solemnly excommunicated, and sent to the Roman pontiff for absolution. Before the completion of this year, the archbishop of Canterbury having ordinary jurisdiction over the bishop of Winchester, and the bishop of Winchester exercising the power of his legation from Rome over the archbishop, these two persons clashed against each other; and the peace of the churches being disturbed, they repaired to the Roman pontiff, bringing a question grateful to the Roman ear, in proportion to its weight. One of them, indeed, gained the cause; but neither returned with inexhausted purse.

Chapter 11: Of the impious life and correspondent death of Geoffrey de Mandeville <to index>

[1] At this time king Stephen, attending more to what was expedient than what was strictly honorable, seized Geoffrey de Mandeville, in his court at St. Albans, not quite fairly, indeed, and consistently with the law of nations, but according to his deserts and his own fear. For he was a most desperate character, and possessed of equal power and artifice. He was master of the celebrated Tower of London, together with two other considerable fortresses, and he aimed at great things by his consummate craft.

[2] As, therefore, from these circumstances, he was an object of terror to the king, Stephen cautiously dissembled the injury he had received from him, and eagerly watched a seasonable opportunity for revenge. The injury this abandoned man had done to the king was this: Stephen some years before, as I have before said, had seized on the treasures of the bishop of Salisbury, and transmitted a vast sum of the money to Louis, king of France, to whose sister, Constantia, he had affianced his son Eustace; purposing, by an affinity with so great a prince, to strengthen his succession against the count of Anjou and his sons. Constantia was at that time in London with the queen her mother-in-law, but when the queen was desirous of removing with her daughter-in-law to another place, Geoffrey de Mandeville, who at that time commanded the Tower, opposed her, and took the daughter from the protection of the mother; and though she resisted with all her might, yet he detained her, and suffered the queen to depart with ignominy. Afterwards, indeed, he reluctantly yielded up his noble prisoner to the king her father-in-law, who claimed her; and Stephen dissembled for a while his just indignation.

[3] This outrage had appeared to have long since been consigned to oblivion; but, behold, on a meeting of the nobility being summoned by the king's command at St. Albans, this freebooter made his appearance amongst the rest, and the king, seizing this opportunity for exercising his just indignation, threw him into confinement, and deprived him of the Tower of London, with the two other fortresses he possessed. Despoiled of his strongholds, but set at liberty, this restless man -- vast in design, and subtle beyond comparison, as well as wise beyond measure, for the perpetration of evil -- collecting a band of desperadoes, seized the monastery of Ramsey, and, without the least compunction at having expelled the monks, and made so celebrated and holy a place a den of thieves, and converted the sanctuary of God into the habitation of the devil, he infested the neighborhood with perpetual attacks and incursions. Then, gaining confidence from his success, he proceeded further, and harassed and alarmed king Stephen with the most daring aggressions; and, while he was thus continuing his mad career, God seemed to sleep, and to be regardless both of the affairs of men and His own; that is to say, of ecclesiastical affairs; then did the suffering righteous exclaim, "Up, Lord, why sleepest thou?" [Ps. 44:23] but, as the apostle remarks, after God had "endured, with much long-suffering, the vessels of wrath fitted for destruction," [Romans 9:23] then, as the prophet observes, "the Lord awaked as one out of sleep, and smote his enemies in the hinder parts " [Ps. 78:67] -- that is, at the conclusion of the business, although the former part had been successful.

[4] At length, just before the death of this wicked man, as it is asserted by the credible relation of many persons, the walls of the church which he had seized and of the adjoining cloister exuded real blood, by which, as it afterwards appeared, was signified, as well the heinousness of his crime as its impending punishment. Thus, whilst his abandoned partisans -- given up to a reprobate mind -- were in nowise terrified at such a tremendous omen, the wretch himself -- amidst the thickest of his troops -- attacking a fortress of the enemy, was struck on the head with an arrow by a common foot-soldier. Although this ferocious man at first disregarded his wound as trifling, yet he died in consequence of it a few days afterwards, and carried with him to hell the indissoluble bond of an ecclesiastical anathema. Two also of his most savage adherents, one the commander of the cavalry, and the other of the foot, are said to have perished by different accidents: the one died from a fall from his horse, by which his bead was dashed upon the ground, and his brains beat out; but the other, named Rainer, celebrated for destroying and burning churches, while in passing over the sea with his wife, by the weight of his iniquities, caused the ship, in which he had taken his passage, to become immovable in the midst of the sea. This causing the greatest astonishment to the seamen and the other passengers, they resorted to the ancient custom of casting lots, and the lot fell upon Rainer; and, lest this should seem to be the effect of chance, it was tried again, and even a third time, and being found invariable, the decision of God was manifest -- wherefore, lest all should perish with him, or on account of him, he was put into a small boat with his wife and ill-acquired, wealth, and the ship immediately regained her power of moving, and proceeded as usual; but the skiff sunk with the weight of the sinner, and was buried in the deep.

Chapter 12: Of Robert Marmiun, and his death <to index>

It was a notorious fact, that two other usurpers, similar to the above-mentioned, were also resident in England. Robert, surnamed Marmiun, who expelled the monks, and invaded and polluted the church of Coventry; and William Albemarle, who, excluding the regular canons, acted in like manner at Burlington. Robert was crushed by the weight of the divine judgment; but the other, led to repentance by God's mercy, expiated his enormity by munificent and frequent almsgiving to the poor and by the erection of no mean monasteries. Robert Marmiun was a man warlike and ferocious, crafty, bold, and almost without compeer in his day; at length, after gaining notoriety for his wide-extended successes, and profaning that noble church by the introduction of the servants of the devil, he harassed the earl of Chester, to whom he was more particularly inimical, with frequent and dreadful assaults, and went purposely to attack the earl as he was advancing with considerable forces; but while proudly riding on a fiery steed, in the sight of both of the contending parties, forgetful of his own stratagem -- for he had intersected the ground with ditches to keep off or annoy the enemy -- he unconsciously fell, by the judgment of God (I say), into the pitfall which his artifice and labor had made; and being incapable of extricating himself, in consequence of the fracture of his thigh, his head was cut off, in the presence of all, by an obscure soldier of the adverse party, nearly about the same time as the visitation of God overtook Geoffrey de Mandeville, and which was equally exemplified in the death of this man for a similar cause. Notwithstanding this, William de Albemarle was not intimidated by the manifest interposition of God in the death of these persons, and in a few years afterwards meditated a similar outrage; but, as I have said, being set apart for repentance and atonement, he received mercy, instead of punishment, at the hand of Almighty God.

Chapter 13: Of the various misfortunes which befell King Stephen <to index>

[1] In the ninth year of the reign of king Stephen, which was rendered remarkable by the death of these two miscreants, the king laid siege to the castle of Lincoln, which at that time was occupied by the earl of Chester. While the king was there erecting a fortress, the workmen were destroyed by a sudden irruption of the enemy, and the king retired discomfited.

[2] In the following year, however, he wiped out the disgrace of this affair; for when the earl of Gloucester, and others of the hostile party, had erected a fortress at Farringdon for their own advantage, and to annoy the enemy, the king hastily advancing thither with his own army, supported by the forces of the Londoners, the collected body of troops fiercely attacked the fort for some days, and at length got possession of it, by dint of great labor and bloodshed. Thus fortune shifted from side to side; and those upon whom she had lately smiled with success, she now deceived with adverse accidents.

[3] Again the catastrophes of his eleventh year obscured the success which appeared to counterbalance the calamities of the year preceding: for though Ranulph, earl of Chester, with whom he had ratified a truce, and who had become a faithful and attached friend, had rendered him powerful aid at Wallingford, yet the king, very soon after, forgetful of his royal majesty and honor, seized the earl, who was coming to him peaceably and securely, in the court at Northampton, and compelled him to resign the castle of Lincoln, with everything else which he appeared to have usurped. In consequence of this, the earl was liberated, and became the king's irreconcilable enemy ever after.

Chapter 14: Of Thurstan, archbishop of York, and of the Foundation of the abbeys of Rievaulx and Fountains <to index>

[1] While such events were occurring in the kingdom of England, Thurstan of holy memory, archbishop of York, after the laudable discharge of his duty for many years, and singular works of piety, finding the time of his warfare nearly accomplished, relinquished his dignity, and, excusing himself from its burdens, passed his last days with the Cluniac monks at Pontefract, and was gathered to his fathers in a good old age. Among his other commendable labors, the foundation and advancement of the noble monastery of Fountains is chiefly to be attributed to his pious care and holy industry; the cause of which memorable work is related to have been as follows.

[2] There were twelve or thirteen monks of the monastery at York, who were fervent in spirit, and, being of a scrupulous conscience, anxiously desired to lead a religious life, according to the Cluniac order, or some other similar regulations, not exactly according to the letter of the rule of St. Benedict, which they professed; but intending to embark in something better, and more strict; for the fame of the Cistercian order, recently instituted, had already become extremely celebrated. These men desired to quit their monastery. The venerable Thurstan, cherishing the design and zeal of these persons, paternally received them on their departure, fostered them on the bosom of maternal love, domesticated them for a time, until he could provide for them as he had intended; and, at length, he put them in a place of pasture. The situation was named Fountains; where, at that time and afterwards, so many drank of waters springing up to eternal life, as from the fountains of the Savior. Indeed, shortly before, the monks of Clairvaux, who had been invited by a nobleman named Walter Espec and sent by abbot Bernard, of blessed memory, had arrived in the province of York, and had accepted a residence in a place now called Rievaulx (though at that time a horrid and wild desert), a site presented to them by that noble person; and to them the venerable Thurstan extended his pastoral favor with paternal regard. Instigated by their example, and spirited to enter on a stricter life, the monks of York committed themselves to the direction of abbot Bernard, whose memory is blessed; and, though separated in place, yet united in heart, they began, with equal energy and zeal, to enter on the narrow path which leadeth unto life. God blessed them with the blessings of heaven above, and with the blessings of the deep that lieth under, with the blessings of fatness and fleeces; insomuch that they not only collected a copious multitude for the service of Almighty God, but had also very ample means of dispensing charity to the poor. That they served the Lord Christ, like exemplary bees, is known by their fruits; that is, by those numerous companies of saints which they sent out like swarms of wise bees, and dispersed them not only through the provinces of England, but even through barbarous nations.

Chapter 15: Of the foundation of Byland <to index>

[1] As I have made mention of Rievaulx and Fountains, two noble monasteries in our province of York, it is incumbent upon me also to relate the origin of Byland, better known to me from its propinquity, being only a mile distant from the church of Newburgh, where I was educated in Christ from a boy. However, I shall begin at an earlier period. There were, in foreign parts, as I have learnt from men of elder time, three great contemporaries, Robert, surnamed de Arbuscule, Bernard, and Vitalis. These men, not meanly instructed, and fervent in spirit, went through towns and villages, sowing, according to Isaiah, beside all waters, and, from the conversion of numbers, gathered abundant fruit; it being piously determined among them, that Robert should direct his attention more especially to the women who had been converted to a better life by their common labor, while Bernard and Vitalis should take greater concern for the men. In consequence, Robert erected the noble monastery of Fontevraud for females, and appointed there a regular discipline; whilst Bernard at Tyron, and Vitalis at Savigny, instituted regular monks, although each distinguished his own by some peculiar injunctions.

[2] When, from these three budding roots, the servants of God, male and female, sprang up in distant provinces, some of the monks of Savigny founded our Byland. Few in number, and poor at the outset, and seeking a proper situation, where, by the favor of God, they might settle so as to produce fruit, they accepted, from a nobleman named Roger de Mowbray, the founder of the church of Newburgh, a confined situation at first; whence, migrating from different causes, a second, third, and fourth time, they ultimately took root, under the same protection, at Byland. The Lord blessed them; and they advanced, from poverty to great opulence, under father Roger, a man of singular integrity, who still survives in a fruitful old age, having nearly completed the fifty-seventh year of his administration. The foundation of this monastery, however, did not take place until after the decease of the venerable Thurstan, when the before-mentioned abbeys of Rievaulx and Fountains were already in a flourishing condition. And since the monks of Savigny had many years before, at the pious instigation of one of their abbots, adopted the rites of the foundation at Clairvaux, these three monasteries, from the unity of their regular discipline, are also more closely united by the tie of sentiment; and, like the triple light of our province, they blaze forth by the preeminency of their holy religion. What else can be deemed of these and other religious places, which began more abundantly to be erected and to flourish in the days of king Stephen, but that they are the camps of God, where soldiers keep guard, and novices are trained against spiritual wickedness? For, about this time, when all the spirit of royal power had evaporated, the nobles, according to their several abilities, erected fortresses, either to defend their own territories, or infest those of their neighbors. Evils thus springing up, and multiplying from the indolence of king Stephen, or, rather, from the malice of the devil, that constant fomenter of discords, the wise and good providence of the King of kings abounded more and more, and was gloriously conspicuous; and, at that period more particularly, God is known to have erected such fortresses for Himself as became the King of peace, to subdue the prince of pride. Finally, it is remarkable that a much greater number of monasteries, for both sexes, were founded in England, during the short time that Stephen reigned, or, more properly speaking, obtained the title of king, than had been for a century preceding.

Chapter 16: Of Gilbert of Sempringham, and of the order which he instituted <to index>

[1] Neither is the venerable Gilbert to be passed over in silence, from whom the order of Sempringham took its rise, and proceeded rapidly to a flourishing condition. He was certainly an admirable character, and of singular address in the management of women. It is reported that, from his earliest manhood, he was by no means contented with having secured his own individual salvation, but was fired with zeal for gaining other souls to Christ, and began anxiously to stimulate the weaker sex with emulation towards God, grounding his pious purpose on the consciousness of his own chastity and in the confidence of heavenly grace. When the divine favor appeared to smile upon his undertaking, fearing lest he should run, or had run in vain, if he did not season unbridled zeal by sober knowledge, more especially when as yet he was little informed himself, by those who had preceded him, he had undertaken such an anxious task, he thought proper to visit the venerable Bernard, abbot of Clairvaux, celebrated for his character in wisdom and in holiness; instructed by whose sagacious counsels, and confirmed in his design, he prosecuted his pious purposes with equal fervency and confidence. His plans prospered; and, as it is said of the noble patriarch, waxed great and went forward [Gen. 26:13]; he became exceeding mighty, not only in a numerous company which had assembled for the service of the Almighty, but also in a supply of things temporal for the necessary support of the body, according to the divine precept, "Seek ye first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you." [Matt. 6:33]

[2] Lastly, he erected two noble monasteries for the male, and eight for the female, servants of God; and these he filled with numerous inmates, and established by fixed laws, according to the wisdom which was given him. He excelled much in the education of males; but, by the divine grace accorded to him, he far surpassed in his skill in training females to the service to God. In this respect, indeed, according to my judgment, he bears away the palm from all who have applied their religious labors to the education and discipline of women. After some years, laden with spiritual gains, and though infirm, yet the attendant on a heavenly bridegroom, he migrated to Christ. Moreover, the multitude of his sons and daughters yet remains; his seed is powerful upon earth, and his generation shall be blessed for ever.

Chapter 17: In what manner William, archbishop of York, was deposed, he not having received the pall, and how Henry succeeded <to index>

[1] On the decease of the venerable Thurstan, archbishop of York, William, the treasurer of that church, succeeded to the see. He was a man as truly noble, according to the flesh, as he was amiable from the gentleness of his manners. When he had dispatched competent representatives to the Holy See to obtain the pall, according to the usual custom, his adversaries came forward, alleging many things against him, and the honor was withheld. He was commanded to appear personally at Rome, as one being of sufficient age to answer for himself; but, in consequence of serious charges increasing, and his enemies prevailing, and as pope Eugenius, of pious memory, was implacably irritated against him, either justly or unjustly, he was ultimately deposed. On his return to England, he retired to Winchester, where he was honorably entertained and splendidly supported for nearly ten years, by Henry, who had consecrated him: here he lamented either his excesses or his misfortunes, and waited in silence a change of times.

[2] On his deposition, Henry, abbot of Fountains, succeeded to the church of York, chiefly through the exertions of the venerable Eugenius, who had formerly been his companion and fellow-student, under father Bernard at Clairvaux, and who was fully acquainted with his life, his morals, and his industry. Lastly, he most warmly favored his election; and, when he was duly consecrated, honored him with the prerogative of the pall. On his return to England, however, Stephen refused to receive him, unless he made oath to observe his fealty. In consequence, too, of the king's withholding his favor, the citizens of York, who were better disposed towards their deposed prelate, also refused to receive him. The city being placed under an interdict for this contumacy, and the functions of the church being suspended, Eustace, the king's son, came and ordered the celebration of divine service, and commanded such as did not yield to his threats to be put out of the city. The relations of the deposed prelate, inflamed equally by their own fury, and the countenance of the king, became hostile and terrible to all who had appeared to favor his disgrace; insomuch that they had no scruple in putting to death the senior archdeacon, who had accidentally fallen into their hands. However, after some years, the king was appeased, and then the citizens of York received their rightful prelate with joy; and thus the calm of anxiously-desired peace beamed forth after a long-continued discord.

Chapter 18: Of the Cause of the Second Crusade to Jerusalem <to index>