NOTE CC. p. 363. The Details of the Battle of Stamfordbridge

Years ago, when I first began these studies, one of my greatest difficulties was that Harold of England is described, in all the ordinary histories, as furnished with a strong force of cavalry and archers at Stamfordbridge, while he was utterly destitute of both arms at Senlac. The haste of his march southwards would not of itself account for the difference; for if he could have collected cavalry and archers for the one campaign, he could doubtless have collected them again for the other. I soon saw that the only authority for the usual description of the fight at Stamfordbridge was the Saga of Harold Hardrada, and I gradually came to the conclusion that that part of the Saga was mythical. The whole conception of the English army was clearly taken from an English army of Snorro’s own age, of which horsemen and archers undoubtedly formed the most important part. That is to say, the English had by that time adopted the Norman tactics. Indeed some of the incidents in Snorro’s account of Stamfordbridge seem very much as if they had been transferred thither from Senlac. The defeat of the Norwegian army, just like that of the English army at Senlac, is owing to their breaking the line of the shield-wall, and Harold the son of Sigurd is killed by the chance shot of an arrow, just like Harold the son of Godwine. But though the account of the Battle of Stamfordbridge is clearly mythical, the like is not the case with the whole of the story. The writer shows a knowledge of the Yorkshire coast, and his narrative seems quite trustworthy up to the Battle of Fulford. His account of that battle quite agrees with the appearance of the site (see p. 350). He seemingly confounds Waltheof with Eadwine (see p. 351), but then he utterly confounds all English genealogies and personalities (see vol. ii. p. 553). It is only when he gets to Stamfordbridge that he begins wholly to break down. For instance (see p. 354) he fancies that place to be close under the walls of York, whereas it really is eight miles off. May not the difference in value between these two parts of his narrative be explained by the circumstances of the case? A division of the army remained at Riccall (see p. 348), and never went to Stamfordbridge at all. All the men of this division (see p. 375) went back safe to Norway, while hardly any fugitives escaped from Stamfordbridge. It was therefore only natural that the story of the former part of the campaign, taking in the Battle of Fulford, should be much better known in Norway than the details of the greater battle itself. The Saga-maker therefore had trustworthy tradition to go by for one part of his story, while for the other he had to draw largely on his imagination.

I have drawn my own ideas of this, as of other battles, from an examination of the ground compared with the accounts of the original writers. I have twice visited the field of Stamfordbridge, in July and in December 1867, the former time in company with Archdeacon Jones and Mr. J. R. Green, when I also examined the site of Fulford with the Archdeacon. In December I also visited Aldby and the ground between Aldby and Stamfordbridge. I have compared the impressions thus formed with the short accounts in the Chronicles, and with those in Henry of Huntingdon and William of Malmesbury. The narrative of Henry has a special value. As soon as he reaches the actual fight, his narrative, hitherto meagre and inaccurate, suddenly lights up, and becomes minute, poetical, and evidently founded on an accurate knowledge of the spot. That is to say, his description here, as in so many other cases, is founded on contemporary and local ballads, of whose words distinct traces may be recognized in his narrative. An English ballad of Stamfordbridge must have been absolutely contemporary with the event—made perhaps to be sung at King Harold’s feast of victory. Such a relic, did we possess it in full, would be almost more precious than the songs of Brunanburh and Maldon.

The accounts in Lappenberg, Thierry, and St. John seem to have been written without any knowledge of the ground. Lappenberg puts the single-handed defence of the bridge quite at the end of the battle. This is perhaps merely an attempt to patch on this incident to the account in the Saga, or it is perhaps because the story comes at the end of the Abingdon Chronicle. But it comes at the end of the Chronicle, simply because it is an addition by another hand, and the words in which the anecdote is told show that it did not take place at the end of the battle. Any one who compares the ground with the account in Henry of Huntingdon will easily see that the defence of the bridge was more than a mere incident after the battle was decided. It is, I feel sure, the central point of the whole fight. Henry’s account begins (M. H. B. 762 B);

“Pugna igitur incepta est, quâ gravior non fuerat. Coeuntes namque a summo mane usque ad meridiem, quum horribiliter ruentes utrimque perseverarent, maximus numerus Anglorum Norwagenses cedere sed non fugere compulit. Ultra flumen igitur repulsi, vivis super mortuos transeuntibus, magnanimiter restiterunt.”

Then follows the defence of the bridge, as I have quoted the account in p. 370, and the narrative goes on thus;

“Transeuntes igitur Angli Haroldum Regem et Tosti occiderunt, et totam Norwagensium aciem vel armis straverunt vel igne deprehensos combusserunt.”

Here are two distinct acts of the battle, fought on opposite sides of the Derwent. As the English were coming from York, the first act must have been on the right bank of the river, and the second on the left. The crossing of the Derwent is the main point, and the crossing of the Derwent was for a while hindered by the valour of this single Northman. And the most hard-fought and decisive part of the battle is clearly placed on the left bank, after the defender of the bridge was slain. Up to that time the Northmen, in Henry’s words, “gave way, but did not fly.” It was after the crossing of the river that the great slaughter took place; but this was not a mere slaughter of flying men, but the most stoutly contested part of the battle. For it was then that Tostig and Harold Hardrada were slain, and they assuredly were not slain flying. There was fighting then on both sides of the river, but the great and decisive struggle took place on the left side, the further side from York. We must here take into account the statements of so many writers, from the Chroniclers onwards, that the English came on the Northmen “unawares,” that the Northmen were without their breast-plates, and the like (see p. 369). This has to be reconciled with the fact of the hard fight which was kept on for so many hours. When we once understand the topography, the explanation is easy. The events naturally arrange themselves as I have given them in the text. The Norwegian army is spread abroad on both sides of the river, Harold Hardrada and Tostig with their main strength being on the further side. The English come “unawares” on the unprepared division on the right side, and drive them back. The single hero defends the bridge, and gives time for the main army beyond it to form. Then comes the great fight in which the two leaders are slain and the whole Norwegian army is at last cut to pieces.

The only point on which I have any doubt is as to the hours of the day. Henry of Huntingdon makes the battle begin in the early morning, “summo mane;” the first fight lasts till noon; the defender of the bridge withstands the passage of the English till three in the afternoon. Then comes the second fight, and, after all this day’s work, Harold of England is back at York the same evening, and the same evening hears at dinner—or rather supper—of the landing of William (see p. 376). The reckoning of time is in itself suspicious, and it is clearly not without a reference to the sacred hours of the Church. The first and last reckonings can be shown to be wrong. It is possible that Harold may have returned to York on the night of the battle. But he certainly did not hear that evening of William’s landing, because William had not yet landed (see p. 400). Neither could the battle have begun very early in the morning. The English army got no further than Tadcaster on the Sunday evening (“com Harold ... on ðone Sunnandæg to Táða” Chron. Ab.). On Monday morning they marched from Tadcaster, through York, to Stamfordbridge (“fór þa on Monandæg þurh ut Eoferwic”). A march of about seventeen miles, with doubtless some, though not a very long, halt in the city, could not be accomplished so as to make the battle begin very early on a September morning. Then it is quite inconceivable that the resistance on the right side lasted from early morning till noon, and the defence of the bridge from noon till three o’clock. A three hours’ defence of the bridge by one man is impossible. The affair was probably an affair of minutes, though at such a moment minutes would seem like hours. Most likely the hours have got into the wrong places. From noon till three would be a very likely amount of time for the whole of the actual fighting. The march and the pursuit have to be added at each end to make up the whole day’s work.

But this mistake as to the mere reckoning of hours need not throw any doubt as to the main facts of the one intelligible and consistent account of the battle. Henry’s account also exactly agrees with the two accounts in the Abingdon Chronicle. These two accounts must not be read as a consecutive narrative. They come from two different hands (see p. 369), and they contain an apparent, though not a real, contradiction. The first tells the story in general terms;

“Ða com Harold Engla cyning heom ongean on unwaran begeondan þære brycge, and hi þær togædere fengon, and swyðe heardlice lange on ðæg feohtende wæron. And þær wæs Harold cyning of Norwegan and Tostig eorl ofslagen, and ungerim folces mid heom, ægðer ge Normana ge Englisca, and þa Normen flugon þa Englisca.”

This is a complete story by itself; then comes the supplement;

“Ða wæs þer an of Norwegan þe widstod þet Englisce folc, þet hí ne micte þa brigge oferstigan ne sige gerechen. Þa seite an Englisce mid anre flan, ac hít nactes ne widstod. And þa com an oþer under þere brigge, end hine þurðstang en únder þere brunie; þa com Harold Engla chinge ofer þere brigge, and hys furde forð mid hine, and þere michel wel geslogon, ge Norweis ge Flæming, and þes cyninges sunu Hetmundus let Harold faran ham to Norwéie mid alle þá scípe.”

This story is clearly the same as that of Henry of Huntingdon, and it even more distinctly sets forth that the victory was still uncertain when the single Northman defended the bridge. Up to that time the English had the better, but the victory was not complete, and the defence of the bridge hindered them for a while from making it complete (“ne sige gerechen”). That the fighting began on the York side, and ended on the further side, is manifest. But it might be thought from the words of the first account, “com Harold ... heom ongean on unwaran begeondan þære brycge,” that the surprise was made on the further side of the bridge; but this, in the case of an army coming from York, is impossible. We must therefore look on the expression as elliptical and in some measure inaccurate. The English came upon them unawares on the York side of the bridge, but the main fight took place “begeondan þære brycge.” In the brief language of the Chronicler these two ideas are run together.

The other accounts throw little light on the matter. The Worcester and Peterborough Chroniclers give no account of the details of the battle, though the Worcester writer becomes rather minute as to the fate of the Northmen after the battle (see p. 375). Florence follows Worcester. William of Malmesbury (ii. 228) gives no details except in his account of the defence of the bridge, which he introduces with the words, “Angli superiorem manum nacti, Noricos in fugam egerunt; sed tantorum et tot virorum victoriam (quod forsitan posteritas difficile credat) unus Noricus multâ horâ interpolavit.” This almost sounds as if William had read the two accounts in the Abingdon Chronicle as a consecutive narrative; his “in fugam egerunt” seems to come from the “Normen flugon þa Englisca,” followed by the account of the defence of the bridge. It is clear that it is from this account of William of Malmesbury that the idea arose that the defence of the bridge took place in the very last stage of the battle.

The three Kings whom Lambert (see above, p. 641) conceived to have been killed at Stamfordbridge must be Harold Hardrada, the Irish King (see p. 372), and, I suppose, Tostig, mistaken for a King.

I have in the text (see p. 354) suggested that the neighbourhood of Aldby may have been one of the attractions which led Harold Hardrada to Stamfordbridge. It may however be thought an objection that Aldby is on the York side of the river, while I conceive the main strength of the Norwegian army to have been on the other side. If however the bridge which now crosses the river at Aldby had a predecessor in those days, this difficulty is got rid of. But in any case I do not insist on the connexion with Aldby as any essential part of the story. It seems to me to have been a probable motive, but if it is thought inconsistent with the one intelligible view of the battle, it must be given up.

Let us now see how the great victory of Stamfordbridge looked in the eyes of Norman and Normannizing writers. It is universally looked on as a wicked fratricide. William of Poitiers (126) refers to the Northumbrian campaign only in an incidental way. William landed easily, because Harold “in Eboracensem pagum recesserat, cum fratre suo Tostillo et Heraldo, Noricorum Rege, dimicaturus.” This was a first-rate opportunity for reviling Harold, and he accordingly goes on with a fierce declamation, to some of the particular expressions of which I have already had to call attention (see above, p. 635, and vol. ii. p. 540);

“Nec mirere quod germanus permotus injuriis, invasi honoris æmulus, arma externa adduxit in Heraldum, quem germana quoque, illi moribus absimillima, quum armis non valeret, votis impugnabat et consilio, luxuriâ fœdum, truculentum homicidam, divite rapinâ superbum, adversarium æqui et boni.”

William of Jumièges (vii. 34) thus speaks of the battle, to which by the way he gives quite a wrong date;

“In quo conflictu prædictum fratrem suum peremit ac Heraldum regem Northwegæ qui Tosticum juvare venerat. Hæc pugna nonis Octobris in die Sabbati facta est in quâ penè totus Northwigenarum exercitus ab Anglis cæsus est. Inde victor Heraldus Lundoniam rediit, sed de fratricidio diu gaudere vel securus esse non potuit, quia legatus ei Normannos adesse mox nuntiavit.”

Two chapters on (vii. 36), when he describes the battle of Senlac, he says;

“In die Sabbati mulctavit [Omnipotens Deus] multa millia Anglorum, qui longè ante innocentem Aluredum injustè necaverunt, ac præcedenti Sabbato Heraldum Regem et Tosticum Comitem aliosque multos absque pietate trucidaverunt.”

Orderic too tells us (500 C) how “Anglicus Tyrannus, effuso fratris et hostis sanguine, lætus intumuit, et peractâ multiplici strage victor Lundoniam rediit.” Presently he uses the exact words of William of Jumièges about the “fratricidium.”

Guy of Amiens also (Giles, 129) makes his elegiacs as fierce as he can. I have already (p. 373) quoted two lines of him; the whole passage runs thus;

The Hyde writer has also his stone to fling at the fratricide. First we read (p. 291), “Haroldus, Rex Anglorum, in borealibus Angliæ partibus constitutus, atque apud Eboracum civitatem contra fratrem dimicans, fratricida infeliciter evasit.” Again (p. 293), “Haroldo itaque apud Eboracum constituto, et post multum laborem detestandumque fratricidium modicum respirante, fama Normannorum advolat.” Lastly, William of Malmesbury, who in his account of Stamfordbridge had spoken as an Englishman, turns about and muses in this fashion (iii. 239); “Interea Haroldus de pugnâ Noricorum revertebatur, suâ æstimatione felix quod vicerat; meo judicio contra, quod parricidio victoriam comparârat.”

The force of party prejudice can really not go further than this kind of talk. We can better forgive the Welsh writer who (Brut y Tywysogion, 1066) tells us how “Harold, King of Denmark, meditated the subjection of the Saxons; whom another Harold, the son of Earl Godwin, who was then King in England, surprised, unwarned and unarmed, and by sudden attack, aided by national treachery, struck to the ground and caused his death.” Still the Welshman’s notions of national treachery must have been strange, and this lament or invective is oddly thrust into the colourless narrative of the Annales Cambriæ. On the other hand Snorro is never carried away in this sort. His mythical details represent Harold as offering quarter to his brother and to his enemies over and over again. Thus even fable bears witness to the general character of our great King, and William of Malmesbury had himself once (ii. 228) praised Harold’s clemency in his dealings with his conquered enemies; “Rex Harvagre et Tostinus interempti; Regis filius cum omnibus navibus domum clementer remissus.”

And now, for the last time, we come back for a moment to our old companion, the Biographer of Eadward. His direct narrative has long since failed us, but in one of his poetical flights (p. 426) he has a very distinct allusion to the fight of Stamfordbridge. He thinks the whole thing very wicked, but the subject of William and laureate of Eadgyth takes care not to commit himself between Harold and Tostig personally. He spares the Lady’s feelings the details of the warfare between her brothers, but one or two of his expressions are remarkable;

Presently (p. 427) the Muse warns him;

The idea that the busses or keels could not pass for the dead bodies is the same poetical common-place which we have met with several times. See pp. 351, 369. We find it also, of all places, in Arrian, ii. II. 11; Λέγει Πτολεμαῖος ὁ Λάγου, ξυνεπισπόμενος τότε Ἀλεξάνδρῳ, τοὺς μετὰ σφῶν διώκοντας Δαρεῖον, ὡς ἐπὶ φάραγγί τινι ἐν τῇ διώξει ἐγένοντο, ἐπὶ τῶν νεκρῶν διαβῆναι τὴν φάραγγα. Cf. Polybios, xii. 20, where there is something like a discussion of the subject. Grote, Hist. Greece, xii. 167.