Walter Map and the Matter of Britain. Joshua Byron Smith
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whose nickname Map (junior) overtook his baptismal name. Yet such an interpretation remains puzzling given “Walter Map son of Walter Map of Wormsley,” since the entire point of Map was to distinguish father from son. Perhaps the meaning of Map was lost when it passed out of Welsh usage and into an Anglo-Norman context? In any case, even if it is not entirely certain that Map was a nickname bestowed upon those with Welsh affiliations, it does seem reasonable to understand the name as one of the many tokens of the cultural mélange of the Anglo-Welsh borderlands.
Indeed, although we have no sure evidence, Walter’s familiarity with the border strongly suggests that he was a native of the March. He twice refers to the Black Mountain, which straddles southwest Herefordshire and Powys.31 He also displays some detailed local knowledge of Ross, Wollaston, Beachley, Aust Cliff, and the Forest of Dean.32 Furthermore, some of the Welsh tales are set in the lordships immediately east of the Black Mountain.33 And he sets a short exemplum illustrating the hotheadedness of the Welsh at Hay-on-Wye, a strategic border town in the area.34 He also held land, at least later in his life, at Ullingswick in Herefordshire, about fifteen miles west of Offa’s Dyke. Moreover, the patronage of Gilbert Foliot may not have been the only factor in Walter’s election as a canon of Hereford, as the chapter had a strong preference for local sons.35 In light of these facts, the general critical impression has been that Walter’s homeland is “somewhere south of Hereford.”36
One possibility that deserves special consideration is Archenfield, or Ergyng in Welsh, the southwestern portion of Herefordshire, where Walter held the church of Westbury-on-Severn. Although Archenfield lay on the English side of the river Wye and although today it is a thoroughly anglicized part of Herefordshire, during Walter’s time Archenfield was starkly Welsh in character and overwhelmingly populated by Welshmen.37 Even late into the fifteenth century, the area was still regarded as a place “where the king’s writ could not be served.”38 Archenfield fits with all of the available facts of Walter’s life. Here, the Welsh would have definitely been his countrymen, yet he could claim without any evasion that he was born in England. If he did not call Archenfield home, he was nonetheless intimately familiar with the general area—much more so than with any other place mentioned in the De nugis curialium.
Certainly, not all border dwellers were the same, and, as far as can be inferred, Walter’s background differed from that of his colleague Gerald of Wales in a few important ways. In Walter’s case, the scale of English-Welsh identity is tipped toward the English side. Gerald’s birth in Wales and kinship with Welsh princes proved easy targets for his enemies, who managed to thwart his aspirations, in part by making his identity as a Marcher suspect.39 Walter never mentions any persecution of this sort. His royal patronage, it must be said, rested on surer footing. His parents had served Henry II, both before and after he took the throne, and so even if Walter did have some ancestral relationship with Wales, it did not cause unease in either Gilbert Foliot or the king, his two major patrons.40 But if Walter was part Welsh, at any remove, he never claimed it, as the De nugis curialium speaks with one voice in describing Walter as a Marcher, but not a Welshman. Walter never once uses the words Cambria and Cambrensis to refer to Wales and the Welsh, but rather the nonnative terms Wallia and Wallenses. (In this respect, however, Walter could merely be an early adopter, as the terms Wallia and Wallenses were being adopted by Welsh writers in the twelfth century.)41 Moreover, Walter calls the Welsh his “compatriots” (compatriote)—a remark that has at times led readers astray.42 But compatriota implies little about ethnicity or culture, meaning only someone from the same district, county, or country as oneself.43 Though he may have lived among the Welsh, he still considered England his country. In a particularly revealing passage, Walter speaks of a promising young man and boasts they are related (“de cuius cognacione glorior”).44 When his young relative passes overseas to serve Philip I, Count of Flanders, Walter says that “he left England, his mother and mine” (matrem nostram et suam Angliam exiuit).45 A clearer statement of national identity would be hard to find.
Yet for all that, Walter shows a deeper familiarity, and even understanding, of the Welsh than might be expected of someone who calls England his mother. He uses a few Welsh terms: brycan (cloth; blanket) and brenhin (king).46 And he has some decent knowledge of southeastern Wales, gained through personal experience, oral culture, and literary sources.47 While many of his Welsh stories are tailor-made for relating Welsh stereotypes, others show a more nuanced interest in Welsh history and culture. Walter even knows a bit about Welsh law.48 Further testimony of Walter’s knowledge of Welsh culture is found in Gerald’s nomination of Walter for the bishop of St. Davids. When the archbishop of Canterbury asked him to put forward the names of suitable candidates who were born in England (“de Anglia oriundus”), Gerald begrudgingly suggested John of Brancaster and Walter Map in 1203.49 John, according to Gerald, is learned and knows Welsh (“linguae nostrae non inscium”).50 Walter, whom Gerald celebrates for his eloquence and wit, has knowledge of the mores of both the Welsh and the English in Wales (morumque gentis utriusque terrae), because they are his neighbors (vicinitate locorum) and because he has had repeated dealings with them (frequentia).51 Since Gerald showed an interest in language surprising for his age, his silence on Walter’s ability to speak Welsh, especially after he has just praised John of Brancaster for knowing it, strongly implies that Walter would not have been able to converse with many residents of his diocese had he become bishop.52 Still, Walter was familiar enough with the area’s mores, a term that for Gerald meant the distinctive social practices of a people, though it also could encompass psychological traits.53 Gerald’s description of Walter agrees with the portrait that emerges from the De nugis curialium: familiar with the Welsh, yet born in England; unable to speak Welsh, yet able to catch a few words here and there; a purveyor of Welsh anecdotes; an amateur Welsh historian—all of which fit perfectly with Walter’s own description as a Marcher.
A Welsh Specialist
On one occasion, Walter baldly states that he is “a Marcher to the Welsh” (marchio sum Walensibus).54 We are lucky to have such a clear statement of self-identification, but we are even luckier that its immediate context has been preserved, allowing us a glimpse into how Walter deployed his status as a border dweller at court. The remark follows Walter’s discussion of the exceptional welcome Edward the Confessor received from King Llywelyn, who displayed admirable courtesy and humility in greeting his enemy. Walter reports that peace did not last; it was broken soon thereafter, as the Welsh are wont to do (more Walensium).55 Llywelyn’s fickleness allows Walter the opportunity to reflect upon a conversation he once had with Thomas Becket during his tenure as royal chancellor (1155–62). The two may have met in Paris, and, if Walter is to be believed, Thomas may well have been contemplating the Welsh campaign of 1157 and approached Walter for advice about how to best deal with the Welsh.56 At any rate, he sought out Walter presumably because he, as a Marcher, had some special insight. Walter implies as much: “he asked me, a Marcher to the Welsh, what is their faithfulness and how they can be trusted.”57 Walter does not disappoint him, either, as he gives Becket a lively parable (parabolam) in response: Franco, a German knight in exile in France, happens upon King Louis, whose attendants have left him alone to guard a felled stag, after they rush off in pursuit of another. Franco asks to speak to the king, but Louis keeps his identity concealed, saying that he will return shortly. King Louis then helps the knight dismount, and, as he holds the saddle, he spies Franco’s large sword. Taken by the size and the beauty of the sword, the king asks to examine it, and Franco complies. While holding the sword, the king forgets he is in disguise, and in a royal manner orders Franco to bring him a stone to sit on. Fearing the sword, Franco complies, but when he receives the sword back, he tells the king: “Take that stone back to its place!”58 The king, likewise fearing the sword, does as he is told. Walter explains this parable to Becket: “And from this incident, I can demonstrate to you the faithfulness of the Welsh: as long as you hold the sword, they will submit; when they hold it, they will command.”59 The very threat of violence can move rocks and men.
Walter’s