[In the following essay, Williams describes Gerald's significance, accomplishments, and approach to history.]

The reader anxious to set Giraldus against the background of twelfth-century Wales is at a disadvantage, for in the main Giraldus himself must be his guide. Valuable and important as his writings thus become, they have to be approached with a caution that will be all the more marked the more attracted we are to the man. The amusing foibles, prejudices and weaknesses that make Giraldus a human, lovable figure are just the features most likely to rouse suspicions as to his impartiality. Before we can use him as an historical source, we have to come to an opinion about his qualifications as a writer, and to do him full justice it is to the historical works that we must go. The list of those works reveals deliberate planning, and an appreciation of his ideas and ambitions as an historical writer may well begin from that list. Apart from what he has to say of himself, his ecclesiastical writings, his lives of other men, and his survey of recent history given in the last two books of the De Principis Instructione, the historical writings of Giraldus are concerned with Ireland and Wales. In the Topographia Hibernica, the Expugnatio Hiberniae, the Itinerarium Cambriae, and the Descriptio Cambriae, we have segments of a deliberate ambitious enterprise. Taken together they show that he had definite opinions as to the nature of history, and that he worked them out along quite definite lines. He deserves praise for thinking out what he wanted to do, even though he did not quite succeed in achieving his aims. Nor was he lacking in originality in the plans which he devised.

He deserves in the first place high credit for his choice of subject. He broke new ground. He himself has told us of the quest he made before arriving at his decision.¹ Like many a writer since his day he found it hard to discover a subject which had not been attempted by writers in preceding generations. What indeed could his feeble and unexercised efforts add to the histories of the destruction of Thebes, Troy or Athens, or the conquest of the shores of Latium? What was the use of doing over again what others had already done so well? To address the eloquent in barren phrases or to set before the learned what everyone knows, is useless. What sort of sounds would the ‘cackling goose utter among tuneful swans’?² So, after long reflection, Giraldus was led to the discovery that there was one corner of the earth which, from its situation on the farthest bounds of the globe, had been neglected by other writers—namely Ireland. And having settled on Irish History as his first venture, he went on to dream of a like work for his native country, ‘hitherto almost wholly overlooked by strangers but interesting to my kinsmen and countrymen’. There are indications that he intended a similar work for Scotland.³ In a word, Giraldus set out to become the historian of the Celtic fringes, and by so doing he earns a place of no small importance among pioneers of medieval historical writing.

He had, too, considered opinions about the public he intended to reach. His books were written for the layman, for princes with little learning, who wanted a story told in easy, simple style. He was a popularizer. That he was not so successful in reaching his public as he had hoped may be gathered from stray hints. Thus, for example, in dedicating his revised version of the Expugnatio to John,⁴ he suggests that the King should employ some learned man, skilled in French, to translate it into that language, so that Giraldus might reap the fruits of his toil, which hitherto, under illiterate princes, had been lost, because there were so few to read his books. Who can blame him if he sought material rewards? As he shrewdly remarks, ‘poets and authors, indeed, crave after immortality, but do not reject any advantages that may offer’.

In his general conception of the nature of history Giraldus differed little from his contemporaries and immediate predecessors in England. For him, as for them, history was the most excellent of the sciences, because it instructs and is an inspiration and a guide for human effort. So he does not resist pointing the moral, and often goes out of the way to find it. It is usual to dismiss him as a credulous writer because, like others of his contemporaries, he fills his works with old wives' tales of marvels, monstrosities and miracles. Such a sweeping condemnation, however, is far from just. Not only ought we to make allowance for the standards of his time, we must also read him in the light of his views of the functions of the historian. He held that it was the duty of the historical writer to narrate what he discovered. In collecting his facts it was his duty to take reasonable care that what he was getting was the truth, but beyond that he had not far to go. He was not called upon to pass judgment on the facts; his responsibility ended when he had distinguished between what he knew at first hand and what he had heard from others. More than once he openly admits that his readers will find in his works many stories that will tax their credulity. He did not expect that everything he said would be accepted blindly as the truth, since he himself had doubts of the things he had heard.

When we look at Giraldus's historical method, we can detect an independence of approach and a clearly defined conception of his function that was novel in his day. His interpretation of the meaning of history was wide. It included many things; above all there was a special emphasis placed on topography, geography and folk-lore as well as the narration of political events. His ideas can be judged from an examination of his achievements. We have seen that the first subject with which he dealt on a large scale was Ireland. Ignoring the severe censures aroused by that work, we may give Giraldus credit for approaching his subject in a thoroughly logical and enlightened way. He began his treatise with a study of the physical features, topography and natural history of the country. Only when this was done did he feel that he had laid foundations for his second work, the Expugnatio, which is history in a narrower sense of the word, the narrative of events in Ireland in his own day and in the period immediately preceding. He seems to have planned similar enterprises for Scotland and Wales. The former, if ever completed, has been lost; the latter was not worked out on the same scale.

His work on Wales sprang from the accident of events. In 1187 the capture of Jerusalem by the Turks had its repercussions in the West, and Henry II prepared to go on Crusade. He knew from the experience of his own campaigns, the value of the Welsh as soldiers, and wanted recruits for his army. So in 1188 Baldwin, Archbishop of Canterbury, set out to preach the Crusade in Wales, accompanied by Giraldus. Out of this visit came Giraldus's first book on Wales. The Itinerary is in the form of a diary of their tour, interspersed in Giraldus's inimitable manner, with fables, gossip, personal reminiscences, observations, and historical data, which indeed far out-bulk the story of the preaching. The work is not in any way the equivalent of the first book on Ireland, and may perhaps be regarded as the jottings from which such a work might be compiled. Even as a description of the actual journey it is very uneven. The route described was a circular tour of North and South Wales, but more time was spent in the south, and the greater part of the narrative is concerned with the journey to St. David's. A work bearing much more resemblance to the Topographia Hibernica was written three years later. The Descriptio Cambriae is a more connected treatise with much topographical and geographical information, an account of the genealogy of the ruling Welsh princely houses, a brief sketch of government, and a description of the habits and characteristics of the people. But unlike the Topographia, it had no successor.

These, then, are the main materials which Giraldus offers the student of twelfth-century Wales. What is its value? There is every reason for accepting it as an illuminating contribution. Giraldus was writing of a country, part of which he knew very well. A shrewd observer, he had enough of the Norman in him to enable him to stand aloof from Wales and the Welsh, while at the same time there was a strong enough Celtic strain in his nature to give him sympathy with the native population. The language in which he speaks of Manorbier, his birthplace, rings true with an intense love for that region, and is itself a very beautiful piece of prose, while in many of his observations of Welsh character, on the native love of music, or on the simple tastes, the hospitable ways, the independent characters of the Welsh people—not to mention the shrewd hits revealing his sure eye for the foibles and worse of his countrymen—Giraldus speaks as one showing in his own person some of those marked racial characteristics. Yet this Celtic strain in him must not be emphasized unduly. To depict Giraldus as a Welsh patriot, or even as a typical Welsh cleric of the period, would be to take too seriously his protestation of his affinities with the native Welsh. It would mean that we should miss the essential problem of his personality and his career. For the truth seems to be that, despite his family associations and anything he himself says to the contrary, Giraldus was not really at home in Wales. He was a foreigner, the child of a new culture that was finding its way into Welsh society and stirring up its age-old civilization into new life. It is a significant fact that there is no indication that any one of the eloquent orations he delivered during the itinerary was spoken in Welsh. That he had some knowledge of the language may be readily admitted, but at best it was only a colloquial knowledge. He was in truth an alien in the country that was so closely bound up with his ambitions. Here perhaps may be found the secret of his strange career. He was, moreover, an ‘original’, if ever there was one. Henry II's firm refusal to have him as head of a Welsh See was the consequence of that shrewd king's judgment of men. He knew an impulsive man of ideas when he saw one. It was his fear of Giraldus's independence of spirit that stood in the way of his promotion quite as much as the anti-Welsh prejudices ascribed to him by Giraldus.

When all this has been said, it remains true that much is lacking in what Giraldus says of Wales, or, if not entirely lacking, is only to be read between the lines. For behind his vivid descriptions there lies at least one century and a quarter of very strenuous history. It is the clue to much that is otherwise inexplicable in the works of Giraldus. The state of Wales as he knew it was the result of forces at work over the whole of the period. Both the changes brought about and those that did not happen contributed to the making of twelfth-century Wales, and they must be briefly described. It will be best to begin with the changes that did not take place. Of these the most significant was the failure of the Normans and Angevins to alter materially the social structure and the economic life of the native Welsh. That they introduced some new elements is true, but fundamentally the Wales Giraldus knew remained very much what it had been before the coming of the Normans. Throughout the occupation the almost unintermittent efforts of Norman barons and English Kings had been directed towards the conquest and subjugation of the native race. Yet by the twelfth century the old conditions had not been radically altered. Marcher lords seeking to consolidate and increase their possessions in Wales, and strong Kings like Henry I or Henry II, had left their mark on the country, but they had not done that which was essential to complete conquest. They had not managed to break down the old tribal organization of Wales, nor had they fully reduced to submission the many Welsh chieftains and native princes. At the end of a long period of occupation the great tribal divisions of the country still remained. Gwynedd, Powys, Deheubarth, and Morgannwg (representing respectively what is now North Wales, Central Wales, South-West Wales, and the south-east corner between the rivers Tawe and Wye) existed as the main tribal divisions with their separate lines of princes, and the rivalries of their leaders provided the cross-currents of Welsh politics, and the incalculable elements with which the statecraft of English kings had to deal. For the student of Welsh history these territorial divisions provide the main clue to events; but these events are confusing, and the narrative of Welsh history as a whole is not easy to tell. Puzzling as are the politics of these main divisions, they are not the only ones which have to be considered. The longevity of Welsh institutions and the pertinacity with which they resisted the attack of the Norman invaders is further illustrated by the territorial subdivisions, the cantrefs and commotes, existing within the main tribal areas. The complex questions of the origins of these governmental units would be out of place in this sketch, but no reader of Giraldus can escape them any more than he would expect to read about twelfth-century England without coming into contact with the hundred and the shire. Even to list their names would be a lengthy task and far less profitable than a glance at the map of medieval Wales. For our purposes it will be sufficient if we recognize the cantref and the commote as distinct geographical areas representing the subdivision for governmental purposes of the old tribal areas. What is worth notice is that up to the twelfth century they had not been broken down by the Anglo-Norman inroads. Geographically, the changes due to the invasion affected those areas in the Marches and South Wales where Norman barons had settled, and those parts, especially in South Wales, which were dominated by royal castles. By the end of the twelfth century progress had been made, but nothing like domination had been achieved, and the Wales Giraldus knew was one in which native princes and Norman lords lived side by side in an uneasy peace under submission, often more nominal than real, to their overlord in England.

Another feature of the unchanged tribal organization also calls for notice. This was the fact that, as long as it lasted, it continued to provide the Welsh with able leaders. During the lifetime of Giraldus the most successful and sustained effort to conquer Wales was made by that great king, Henry II. He had matched against him two men worthy of his steel. The first, Owain Gwynedd, had served an apprenticeship in wars against Welshmen, Normans and Flemings before he became King of North Wales in 1137. The anarchy of Stephen's reign gave him the opportunity to extend his territory and power so that when Henry II faced the Welsh problem in the early years of his reign, he was right in beginning by an attack on Owain. In July 1157 he launched his first great expedition against North Wales. It was not successful, but Owain realized that he was dealing with a real force and came to terms. He did homage to Henry, and for a long time deemed it wisdom not to tempt Henry to make another attack upon him. Not even the activity of his nephew Rhys ap Gruffydd of South Wales roused him until 1164. Counting on Henry's difficulties at that time, Owain yielded to the schemes of the Lord Rhys and joined him in open resistance to Henry. It was a really dangerous movement, and Henry organized a very full expedition to meet it. Of Owain's pre-eminence in North Wales up to this time there can be no doubt. He figures in the pages of Giraldus as one of the great Welsh leaders, a prince to be admired for his wisdom, nobility and courage. In Welsh history his name stands high for the part he played in resisting the Norman advance, and his resistance did much to preserve the spirit of Welsh independence at a critical time.

When Owain died in 1176 the place of command in Welsh affairs fell to the Lord Rhys of South Wales. He had been steadily growing in importance from the beginning of Henry II's reign. By the time Giraldus was writing his Itinerary, Rhys was the dominating figure in Welsh politics and we catch glimpses of him in the course of the autobiography. There seems to have been something in him which attracted Henry II, for we find Henry far more anxious to win him for a dependant than to crush him out of existence. The links between them were forged slowly, and in the years between 1158 and 1177 Henry could never be certain of Rhys. After that date they came closer together, and in Giraldus's time their relations were good.

The reign of Henry II was an important landmark in Welsh history, and by the time of Giraldus the grip of the English king upon Wales was firmer than it had been earlier. All the same the Norman and the Angevin period had not materially altered the institutional framework of Wales. Nor—as Giraldus plainly shows—had it done much to alter the character of the native Welsh or change the social and economic background. That new elements had been introduced need not be denied. It was especially true in South Wales where geographical factors made penetration easier and more permanent. Yet even in those parts where contacts with England were most close, the invaders had as yet made little impression on the native population, who still retained their primitive characteristics, and were little disposed to the settled existence of the agriculturist. Giraldus and others show them as a simple folk, bred to the use of arms, great lovers of their own liberty, independent, ready to fight on the slightest provocation and quick to seize the chance of harrying the foreigner in their midst. They were noted also for their hospitality, their bravery and their devotion to their family and tribal leaders. If Giraldus is to be credited, they had likewise many of the defects that often accompany these qualities, and their love of plunder, their quarrelsomeness, their adherence to tribal feuds were some of the reasons he adduced to explain their failure to unite against the invader.

If in many ways the Norman invasion left Wales and its people almost unchanged, there were on the other hand some striking effects of the coming of Norman rule. Nowhere can the traces of Norman activity be seen more clearly than in the transformation that was accomplished within the Welsh Church, a fact which is of special concern to the reader of Giraldus, since the prime interest of his career lies in the gallant fight he made for what he regarded as the rights and privileges of the See of St. David's.

Our sketch of what took place may well begin with the years following the Norman conquest; for as in so many other ways, that movement profoundly influenced the organization and government of the Church in Wales. The break with pre-Conquest religious history was in Wales so definite, that for our present purposes, we need recall nothing from the earlier period save the framework of the organization existing when Norman influence began to be felt. Just as in political affairs the old tribal divisions of the country remained despite Norman attacks, so the territorial divisions of the Church were carried over into the new period. Corresponding to the tribal principalities of Gwynedd, Powys, Dyfed and Morgannwg there were the Bishoprics of Bangor, St. Asaph, St. David's, and Llandaff. So much is certain. What is less easy to discover is the exact relationship of the four Sees to each other, and more important, their place in relation to the English Church. On the whole, it appears safe to say that in relation to each other the four Sees were independent and autonomous, and that in the pre-Conquest period the question that was later to cause such controversy, namely, the primacy of St. David's over the other three, was non-existent. With regard to the even more important question of the relationship of those bishoprics to the See of Canterbury, it is less easy to dogmatize. Some historians have tried to make use of dubious and confused references to prove that, in the century prior to the Norman Conquest, Welsh Bishops were, in certain instances, consecrated by the Archbishop of Canterbury. But the best modern opinion declines to put much trust in such evidence and tends to the view that before the Norman Conquest the Welsh Bishops had not generally recognized the authority of Canterbury. These two questions were to be the main threads of ecclesiastical history after the Conquest.

In the new period there is a tightening of authority, and the policy of Normanization that was being attempted in politics was also applied in ecclesiastical affairs. To assist in the establishment of royal authority in Wales the Norman kings adopted a policy of granting the higher ecclesiastical offices in Wales to Norman clerics, while the new masters of Welsh territory did not scruple to appropriate lands belonging to the Church. Norman Bishops proved amenable to royal authority and in many cases undermined the previous independence of the Sees by recognition of the spiritual supremacy of Canterbury. To illustrate these tendencies a brief summary of what happened at St. David's between the conquest and 1176 may be given. It is a prelude to the vital problem in Giraldus's career.

Pre-Conquest conditions seem to have continued at St. Davids until 1115. Wilfred, Bishop from 1085-1115 was apparently consecrated without reference to Canterbury; but Anselm, who was firm in his dealings with the Welsh clergy seems to have suspended him temporarily because—it is said—of his alienation of Church property. Not much is known of Wilfred's rule, though the general impression is that it was a period of comparative quiet, due possibly to some agreement at which he arrived with Anselm.

Trouble began in 1115, when his successor had to be chosen. The Welsh clergy at St. David's would have liked to choose Daniel, son of an earlier and very famous Bishop (Julian—1011-91); but Henry I had a definite policy for the appointment, and intended that the See should be governed by someone certain to be friendly to himself. Thus, then, he forced on the Welsh clergy a royal chaplain, Bernard, who held the See for thirty-three years (1115-48). Bernard was ordained priest at Southwark (September 18th, 1115) and next day was consecrated. He made complete obedience to Canterbury; but strange as it may seem, the royal favourite, courtier and diplomat ended by being the first Bishop of St. David's to make the claim that his See was the Metropolitan See of Wales, and that he as Archbishop was of equal rank and authority with the Archbishops of Canterbury and York. Whether the claims were put forward during the lifetime of Henry I has been doubted; but it seems clear that by the pontificate of Innocent II (1130-43) such claims were being formulated. According to some accounts Bernard seems to have won his point for a time, but in 1147 the whole question was fought out between Theobald Archbishop of Canterbury and Bernard, before Pope Eugenius III at Meaux. There were two questions at issue; firstly whether Bernard was independent of the authority of Canterbury, and secondly, whether the See itself was independent. The first question was decided against Bernard, since at his consecration he had sworn complete obedience. The second question was more difficult, and Eugenius gave permission for it to be argued in the ensuing year. But Bernard died before the appointed date, leaving the question still unsettled.

Archbishop Theobald took steps to prevent the recurrence of the controversy, by persuading the clergy of St. David's to elect as Bernard's successor one of themselves, David FitzGerald, Canon of St. David's and Archdeacon of Canterbury. The Archbishop's choice is the less surprising, when it is remembered that he was the son of the Norman castellan of Pembroke, Gerald of Windsor. From him it was easy to obtain not merely a profession of canonical obedience, but also an oath promising never to revive the claim of Metropolitan rank for the See. David was Bishop for twenty-seven years. During that time he had many quarrels with the cathedral clergy, was a shameless nepotist and so unscrupulous in his manipulation of the temporal possessions of his See that even his nephew, Giraldus, could not wholly whitewash him. All the same he did not break his oath. In 1175, however, during a quarrel with his clergy, the latter forced his hand, once more raising the question of the independence of St. David's. From that time forth the story is best told by Giraldus himself.

Notes

1. See his Prefaces to all four works.

2. Preface to Topographia. Cp. Virg. Ecl. 9, 36.

3. Top. Hib. i. 26; iii, 16.

4. Rolls Series, vol. v, pp. 405 ff.