Jacob Bell provides an updated translation of two of the most fascinating documentary witnesses, and drivers, of eleventh-century English politics: The Encomium Emmae Reginae (hereafter Encomium) and the Vita Ædwardi Regis qui apud Westmonasterium requiescit or The Life of Edward the king who rests in Westminster (hereafter VER). Neither of these texts has been revised since they were published in the mid-twentieth century. The VER first appeared in English edited and translated by Alistair Campbell in 1949 and the Encomium in 1962 by Frank Barlow. Both were reprinted in the 1990s but not revised. New editions and commentary of these crucial texts are especially welcome as one considers the significant developments of the discipline since that time: documentary culture, gender, the study of history writing. Timothy Bolton’s discovery in 2009 of a lost “Edwardian” ending to the Encomium (Copenhagen, Kongelige Bibliotek, MS Acc. 2011/5) is reason enough for a new edition. The particular value of Bell’s book is its accessibility to readers with little background in the oft-bewildering events of eleventh-century England. Bell frames these queenly texts thoughtfully; he provides detailed context for each but is careful not to overwhelm the general reader.
The book is divided into three parts: the commentary, the Encomium, and the VER. A short bibliography and index are supplied at the end. The scholarly apparatus of the book is certainly sufficient, but the author has consciously kept these elements spare and manageable for the student reader and a general audience. The translation itself, likewise, is only lightly footnoted. Bell’s stated aim is to make these works approachable; thus, the notes are kept to a minimum and offered in straightforward language.
The commentary is subdivided into a few sections. Bell first provides a short political history of England in the eleventh century that engages both its Scandinavian and Norman invasions. This section features a sampling of documentary sources that allows the reader to hear diverse voices from sermons, charters, Cnut’s letter of 1027, chronicles, and skaldic poetry. Bell then turns to the women at the heart of the story and sketches a brief outline of Emma and Edith’s lives. His attention to women’s patronage networks here is welcome. Bell then traces out the manuscript tradition of the Encomium and the VER. Notes on the translations complete Bell’s commentary.
One of the defining elements of Emma’s life is her marriage to Cnut in 1017. Bell spends some time on the circumstances surrounding the union and Emma’s degree of autonomy in the arrangements for her marriage, the subject of some scholarly debate. Her marriage to Cnut stood to enrich and empower her as queen and provide legitimacy for him. Sources are conflicting: Emma’s own perspective on the matter—written into the Encomium—portrays a negotiation between two relatively equal parties that culminates in a union that serves them both. Other sources grant her little agency. The most closely contemporary of these is William of Jumièges, who claimed she was forced into the marriage against her will as she was held captive in London. William was writing for Emma’s family and might be expected to use the trope of a helpless pawn as an apology for a marriage that was irregular at the very least and even scandalous. It still raises eyebrows with students. Late saga sources tend toward the salacious and describe her as little more than a slave, but these are famously unreliable. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle laconically states that Cnut took Emma as his wife. Bell’s review of the conflicting viewpoints gives perhaps more credence to late saga sources than is due. Emma’s recounting through the Encomium certainly enshrines the history she wanted us to read. Yet her position as consors imperii after her marriage and crowning alongside Cnut supports her version of events; Emma’s influence at court was significant and lasting. Her appearance in charters—always among the first attestors—is further evidence of her centrality. She was no powerless pawn. Indeed, the person who benefitted most from the marriage was Emma herself.
The life of Edith Godwinesdohter is less well-attested but the political intrigues surrounding her were no less dramatic. She was unable to carve a central place for herself as Emma did in her court, but after King Edward the Confessor’s death she did likewise serve as a link to a fallen English royal house. Like Emma, her feelings about her somewhat surprising role as an apologist for a new regime of invaders remains obscure, but her status and wealth were protected because of her willingness to accept the new Norman reality. Edith’s VER sits at the crossroads of multi-lingual textual traditions—classical, biblical, and Norse. The Encomium was also a source text for the VER.
Bell’s deft exploration of medieval manuscript culture through the queens’ texts deserves mention. Royal women stood at the head of “vast geographic networks that connected insular book culture to arc of medieval Europe” (50) in the much the same way as did Gunnor, Judith, and earlier aristocratic women. Bell uses their commissioning and creation of the two texts to explore scribal traditions, the weaponizing of books as statements of political power, and demonstrations of women’s cultural currency at the center of royal courts. Bell also engages the texts as objects in sophisticated ways. There are marked differences between the two documents: Emma’s stand-alone manuscript is a rarity in medieval documentary practice while Edith’s VER is sandwiched within a compilation of various records that date well into the seventeenth century. Emma’s Encomium was amended as the world changed after Harthacnut’s death in 1042, but not heavily glossed. The VER by contrast shows signs of significant intervention, including attempts at preservation probably from the seventeenth century. Most of the second chapter of the VER is missing or unreadable due to damage; sadly, a typical fate for medieval parchments. Bell uses the manuscripts to engage multiple elements of their physicality including targeted wear due to their use. Bell demonstrates that manuscripts were read aloud but also touched, kissed, shown around to audiences, and used liturgically.
The translations themselves are readable, clear and judiciously updated for a modern reader. Those of us who have assigned Campbell and Barlow’s editions in our courses and slowly led students through their prose will find that using Bell allows extra class time for discussion. Bell follows Campbell’s organization of the Encomium but adds the “Edwardian” ending. His translation of the VER follows Barlow in organization but leaves out the additions Barlow made from other manuscripts to make up the lost sections of chapter 2. Bell thus allows the reader to see and feel the fragmented nature of the book and, in Bell’s words, “sit with the incompleteness” (61).
Through The Documentary Politics of Conquered England’s Queens Bell makes important contributions to the field of eleventh-century English history. Bell makes accessible to a broad readership a glimpse of court politics, queenly performance of rulership, and the convergence of gender and documentary culture through the lens of queenly textual production. Bell’s work also engages scholarship on women’s power to demonstrate Emma and Edith’s position at court as part of a ruling collective. He accepts as patently obvious that both Emma and Edith could read the works they commissioned with such care and expense; a notion that, until recently, a surprising number of scholars resisted.
If there is one criticism this reviewer might level, it is the expense of the book. The $130 price tag (even for the eBook) is an obstacle; many of us would hesitate to assign it for a course. Yet it is precisely the sort of book that benefits student readers. One hopes a reasonably priced paperback version of Bell’s excellent work is forthcoming.