In the year of our Lord 946, Edred, Edward’s third son, assuming the government, reigned nine years and a half. He gave proof that he had not degenerated in greatness of soul from his father and his brothers; for he nearly exterminated the Northumbrians and the Scots, laying waste the whole province with sword and famine, because, having with little difficulty compelled them to swear fidelity to him, they broke their oath, and made Iricius their king. He for a long time kept Wulstan, archbishop of York, who, it was said, connived at the revolt of his countrymen, in chains, but afterwards, out of respect to his ecclesiastical dignity, released and pardoned him. In the meantime, the king himself, prostrate at the feet of the saints, devoted his life to God and to Dunstan, by whose admonition he endured with patience his frequent bodily pains,[178] prolonged his prayers, and made his palace altogether the school of virtue. He died accompanied with the utmost grief of men, but joy of angels; for Dunstan, learning by a messenger that he was sick, while urging his horse in order to see him, heard a voice thundering over his head, “Now king Edred sleeps in the Lord.” He lies buried in the cathedral at Winchester.
In the year of our Lord 955, Edwy, son of Edmund, the brother of Athelstan the former king, taking possession of the kingdom, retained it four years: a wanton youth, who abused the beauty of his person in illicit intercourse. Finally, taking a woman nearly related to him as his wife, he doated on her beauty, and despised the advice of his counsellors. On the very day he had been consecrated king, in full assembly of the nobility, when deliberating on affairs of importance and essential to the state, he burst suddenly from amongst them, darted wantonly into his chamber, and rioted in the embraces of the harlot. All were indignant of the shameless deed, and murmured among themselves. Dunstan alone, with that firmness which his name implies,[179] regardless of the royal indignation, violently dragged the lascivious boy from the chamber, and on the archbishop’s compelling him to repudiate the strumpet,[180] made him his enemy for ever. Soon after, upheld by most contemptible supporters, he afflicted with undeserved calamities all the members of the monastic order throughout England,--who were first despoiled of their property, and then driven into exile. He drove Dunstan himself, the chief of monks, into Flanders. At that time the face of monachism was sad and pitiable. Even the monastery of Malmesbury, which had been inhabited by monks for more than two hundred and seventy years, he made a sty for secular canons. But thou, O Lord Jesus, our creator and redeemer, gracious disposer, art abundantly able to remedy our defects by means of those irregular and vagabond men. Thou didst bring to light thy treasure, hidden for so many years--I mean the body of St. Aldhelm, which they took up and placed in a shrine. The royal generosity increased the fame of the canons; for the king bestowed on the saint an estate, very convenient both from its size and vicinity. But my recollection shudders even at this time, to think how cruel he was to other monasteries, equally on account of the giddiness of youth, and the pernicious counsel of his concubine, who was perpetually poisoning his uninformed mind. But let his soul, long since placed in rest by the interposition of Dunstan,[181] pardon my grief: grief, I say, compels me to condemn him, “because private advantage is not to be preferred to public loss, but rather public loss should outweigh private advantage.” He paid the penalty of his rash attempt even in this life, being despoiled of the greatest part of his kingdom;[182] shocked with which calamity, he died, and was buried in the new minster at Winchester.