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William the Conqueror

by Jacob Abbott · English · Gutenberg #25848 · 347,159 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: William the Conqueror

Author: Jacob Abbott


        
Release date: June 20, 2008 [eBook #25848]
                Most recently updated: January 3, 2021

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR ***




Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)









 Makers of History

 William the Conqueror

 BY

 JACOB ABBOTT

 WITH ENGRAVINGS

 NEW YORK AND LONDON
 HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
 1902




 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand
 eight hundred and forty-nine, by

 HARPER & BROTHERS,

 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern District
 of New York.

 Copyright, 1877, by JACOB ABBOTT.




PREFACE.


In selecting the subjects for the successive volumes of this series, it
has been the object of the author to look for the names of those great
personages whose histories constitute useful, and not merely
entertaining, knowledge. There are certain names which are familiar, as
names, to all mankind; and every person who seeks for any degree of
mental cultivation, feels desirous of informing himself of the leading
outlines of their history, that he may know, in brief, what it was in
their characters or their doings which has given them so widely-extended
a fame. This knowledge, which it seems incumbent on every one to obtain
in respect to such personages as Hannibal, Alexander, Caesar, Cleopatra,
Darius, Xerxes, Alfred, William the Conqueror, Queen Elizabeth, and Mary
Queen of Scots, it is the design and object of these volumes to
communicate, in a faithful, and, at the same time, if possible, in an
attractive manner. Consequently, great historical names alone are
selected; and it has been the writer's aim to present the prominent and
leading traits in their characters, and all the important events in
their lives, in a bold and free manner, and yet in the plain and simple
language which is so obviously required in works which aim at permanent
and practical usefulness.




 CONTENTS.


 Chapter                                                    Page

    I. NORMANDY                                              13

   II. BIRTH OF WILLIAM                                      31

  III. THE ACCESSION                                         51

   IV. WILLIAM'S REIGN IN NORMANDY                           72

    V. THE MARRIAGE                                          96

   VI. THE LADY EMMA                                        119

  VII. KING HAROLD                                          142

 VIII. PREPARATIONS FOR THE INVASION                        164

   IX. CROSSING THE CHANNEL                                 189

    X. THE BATTLE OF HASTINGS                               212

   XI. PRINCE ROBERT'S REBELLION                            242

  XII. THE CONCLUSION                                       265




 ENGRAVINGS.


                                                            Page

 MAP--THE SITUATION OF NORMANDY                              14

 WILLIAM AND ARLOTTE                                         40

 WILLIAM'S ESCAPE                                            77

 THE BAYEUX TAPESTRY                                        102

 THE RESCUE                                                 127

 HAROLD'S INTERVIEW WITH EDWARD                             147

 WILLIAM RECEIVING TOSTIG'S TIDINGS                         166

 MAP--NORMANDY                                              190

 THE NORWEGIANS AT SCARBOROUGH                              218

 WILLIAM'S HORSE STEPPING ON THE EMBERS                     281




WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR.




CHAPTER I.

NORMANDY.

A.D. 870-912

The Norman Conquest.--Claim of William to the throne.--The right of the
strongest.--Map of Normandy.--The English Channel.--Nature of the French
coast.--Nature of the English coast.--Northmen and Danes.--Character
of the Northmen.--Their descendants.--The Dukes of Normandy.--The
first duke, Rollo.--History of Rollo.--His rendezvous on the Scottish
coast.--Expedition of Rollo.--His descent upon Flanders.--Difficulties
encountered.--Rollo passes the Straits of Dover.--Charles the
Simple.--Defeated by Rollo.--Treaty of peace.--Its conditions.--The
three ceremonies.--Rollo's pride.--Kissing the king's foot.--The baptism
and marriage.--Rollo's peaceful and prosperous reign.--Description
of Normandy.--Scenery.--Hamlets.--Chateaux.--Peasantry.--Public
roads.--Rouen.--Its situation.--The port of Rouen.--Its name of Le Havre
de Grace.--Intermingling of races.--Superiority of the Norman stock.


One of those great events in English history, which occur at distant
intervals, and form, respectively, a sort of bound or landmark, to which
all other events, preceding or following them for centuries, are
referred, is what is called the Norman Conquest. The Norman Conquest
was, in fact, the accession of William, duke of Normandy, to the English
throne. This accession was not altogether a matter of military force,
for William claimed a _right_ to the throne, which, if not altogether
perfect, was, as he maintained, at any rate superior to that of the
prince against whom he contended. The rightfulness of his claim was,
however, a matter of little consequence, except so far as the moral
influence of it aided him in gaining possession. The right to rule was,
in those days, rather more openly and nakedly, though not much more
really, than it is now, the right of the strongest.

Normandy, William's native land, is a very rich and beautiful province
in the north of France. The following map shows its situation:

[Illustration: MAP OF ENGLAND AND PART OF FRANCE, SHOWING THE SITUATION
OF NORMANDY.]

It lies, as will be seen upon the map, on the coast of France, adjoining
the English Channel. The Channel is here irregular in form, but may be,
perhaps, on the average, one hundred miles wide. The line of coast on
the southern side of the Channel, which forms, of course, the northern
border of Normandy, is a range of cliffs, which are almost perpendicular
toward the sea, and which frown forbiddingly upon every ship that sails
along the shore. Here and there, it is true, a river opens a passage for
itself among these cliffs from the interior, and these river mouths
would form harbors into which ships might enter from the offing, were it
not that the northwestern winds prevail so generally, and drive such a
continual swell of rolling surges in upon the shore, that they choke up
all these estuary openings, as well as every natural indentation of the
land, with shoals and bars of sand and shingle. The reverse is the case
with the northern, or English shore of this famous channel. There the
harbors formed by the mouths of the rivers, or by the sinuosities of the
shore, are open and accessible, and at the same time sheltered from the
winds and the sea. Thus, while the northern or English shore has been,
for many centuries, all the time enticing the seaman in and out over
the calm, deep, and sheltered waters which there penetrate the land, the
southern side has been an almost impassable barrier, consisting of a
long line of frowning cliffs, with every opening through it choked with
shoals and sand-banks, and guarded by the rolling and tumbling of surges
which scarcely ever rest.

It is in a great measure owing to these great physical differences
between the two shores, that the people who live upon the one side,
though of the same stock and origin with those who live upon the other,
have become so vastly superior to them in respect to naval exploits and
power. They are really of the same stock and origin, since both England
and the northern part of France were overrun and settled by what is
called the Scandinavian race, that is, people from Norway, Denmark, and
other countries on the Baltic. These people were called the _Northmen_
in the histories of those times. Those who landed in England are
generally termed _Danes_, though but a small portion of them came really
from Denmark. They were all, however, of the same parent stock, and
possessed the same qualities of courage, energy, and fearless love of
adventure and of danger which distinguish their descendants at the
present day. They came down in those early times in great military
hordes, and in fleets of piratical ships, through the German Ocean and
the various British seas, braving every hardship and every imaginable
danger, to find new regions to dwell in, more genial, and fertile, and
rich than their own native northern climes. In these days they evince
the same energy, and endure equal privations and hardships, in hunting
whales in the Pacific Ocean; in overrunning India, and seizing its
sources of wealth and power; or in sallying forth, whole fleets of
adventurers at a time, to go more than half round the globe, to dig for
gold in California. The times and circumstances have changed, but the
race and spirit are the same.

Normandy takes its name from the Northmen. It was the province of France
which the Northmen made peculiarly their own. They gained access to it
from the sea by the River Seine, which, as will be seen from the map,
flows, as it were, through the heart of the country. The lower part of
this river, and the sea around its mouth, are much choked up with sand
and gravel, which the waves have been for ages washing in. Their
incessant industry would result in closing up the passage entirely,
were it not that the waters of the river must have an outlet; and thus
the current, setting outward, wages perpetual war with the surf and
surges which are continually breaking in. The expeditions of the
Northmen, however, found their way through all these obstructions. They
ascended the river with their ships, and finally gained a permanent
settlement in the country. They had occupied the country for some
centuries at the time when our story begins--the province being governed
by a line of princes--almost, if not quite, independent
sovereigns--called the _Dukes of Normandy_.

The first Duke of Normandy, and the founder of the line--the chieftain
who originally invaded and conquered the country--was a wild and
half-savage hero from the north, named _Rollo_. He is often, in history,
called Rollo the Dane. Norway was his native land. He was a chieftain by
birth there, and, being of a wild and adventurous disposition, he
collected a band of followers, and committed with them so many piracies
and robberies, that at length the king of the country expelled him.

Rollo seems not to have considered this banishment as any very great
calamity, since, far from interrupting his career of piracy and
plunder, it only widened the field on which he was to pursue it. He
accordingly increased the equipment and the force of his fleet, enlisted
more followers, and set sail across the northern part of the German
Ocean toward the British shores.

Off the northwestern coast of Scotland there are some groups of
mountainous and gloomy islands, which have been, in many different
periods of the world, the refuge of fugitives and outlaws. Rollo made
these islands his rendezvous now; and he found collected there many
other similar spirits, who had fled to these lonely retreats, some on
account of political disturbances in which they had become involved, and
some on account of their crimes. Rollo's impetuous, ardent, and
self-confident character inspired them with new energy and zeal. They
gathered around him as their leader. Finding his strength thus
increasing, he formed a scheme of concentrating all the force that he
could command, so as to organize a grand expedition to proceed to the
southward, and endeavor to find some pleasant country which they could
seize and settle upon, and make their own. The desperate adventurers
around him were ready enough to enter into this scheme. The fleet was
refitted, provisioned, and equipped. The expedition was organized, arms
and munitions of war provided, and when all was ready they set sail.
They had no definite plan in respect to the place of their destination,
their intention being to make themselves a home on the first favorable
spot that they should find.

They moved southward, cruising at first along the coast of Scotland, and
then of England. They made several fruitless attempts to land on the
English shores, but were every where repulsed. The time when these
events took place was during the reign of Alfred the Great. Through
Alfred's wise and efficient measures the whole of his frontier had been
put into a perfect state of defense, and Rollo found that there was no
hope for him there. He accordingly moved on toward the Straits of Dover;
but, before passing them, he made a descent upon the coast of Flanders.
Here there was a country named Hainault. It was governed by a potentate
called the Count of Hainault. Rollo made war upon him, defeated him in
battle, took him prisoner, and then compelled the countess his wife to
raise and pay him an immense sum for his ransom. Thus he replenished
his treasury by an exploit which was considered in those days very
great and glorious. To perpetrate such a deed now, unless it were on a
_very_ great scale, would be to incur the universal reprobation of
mankind; but Rollo, by doing it then, not only enriched his coffers, but
acquired a very extended and honorable fame.

For some reason or other, Rollo did not attempt to take permanent
possession of Hainault, but, after receiving his ransom money, and
replenishing his ammunition and stores, he sailed away with his fleet,
and, turning westward, he passed through the Straits of Dover, and
cruised along the coast of France. He found that the country on the
French side of the channel, though equally rich and beautiful with the
opposite shore, was in a very different state of defense. He entered the
mouth of the Seine. He was embarrassed at first by the difficulties of
the navigation in entering the river; but as there was no efficient
enemy to oppose him, he soon triumphed over these difficulties, and,
once fairly in the river, he found no difficulty in ascending to
Rouen.[A]

[Footnote A: See the map at the commencement of this chapter.]

In the mean time, the King of France, whose name was Charles, and who
is generally designated in history as Charles the Simple, began to
collect an army to meet the invader. Rollo, however, had made himself
master of Rouen before Charles was able to offer him any effectual
opposition. Rouen was already a strong place, but Rollo made it
stronger. He enlarged and repaired the fortifications, built
store-houses, established a garrison, and, in a word, made all the
arrangements requisite for securing an impregnable position for himself
and his army.

A long and obstinate war followed between Rollo and Charles, Rollo being
almost uniformly victorious in the combats that took place. Rollo became
more and more proud and imperious in proportion to his success. He drove
the French king from port to port, and from field to field, until he
made himself master of a large part of the north of France, over which
he gradually established a regular government of his own. Charles
struggled in vain to resist these encroachments. Rollo continually
defeated him; and finally he shut him up and besieged him in Paris
itself. At length Charles was compelled to enter into negotiations for
peace. Rollo demanded that the large and rich tract on both sides of the
Seine, next the sea--the same, in fact, that now constitutes
Normandy--should be ceded to him and his followers for their permanent
possession. Charles was extremely unwilling thus to alienate a part of
his kingdom. He would not consent to cede it absolutely and entirely, so
as to make it an independent realm. It should be a _dukedom_, and not a
separate _kingdom_, so that it might continue still a part of his own
royal domains--Rollo to reign over it as a duke, and to acknowledge a
general allegiance to the French king. Rollo agreed to this. The war had
been now protracted so long that he began himself to desire repose. It
was more than thirty years since the time of his landing.

Charles had a daughter named Giselle, and it was a part of the treaty of
peace that she should become Rollo's wife. He also agreed to become a
Christian. Thus there were, in the execution of the treaty, three
ceremonies to be performed. First, Rollo was to _do homage_, as it was
called, for his duchy; for it was the custom in those days for
subordinate princes, who held their possessions of some higher and more
strictly sovereign power, to perform certain ceremonies in the presence
of their superior lord, which was called doing homage. These ceremonies
were of various kinds in different countries, though they were all
intended to express the submission of the dependent prince to the
superior authority and power of the higher potentate of whom he held his
lands. This act of homage was therefore to be performed, and next to the
homage was to come the baptism, and after the baptism, the marriage.

When, however, the time came for the performance of the first of these
ceremonies, and all the great chieftains and potentates of the
respective armies were assembled to witness it, Rollo, it was found,
would not submit to what the customs of the French monarchy required. He
ought to kneel before the king, and put his hands, clasped together,
between the king's hands, in token of submission, and then to kiss his
foot, which was covered with an elegantly fashioned slipper on such
occasions. Rollo would do all except the last; but that, no
remonstrances, urgencies, or persuasions would induce him to consent to.

And yet it was not a very unusual sign or token of political
subordination to sovereign power in those days. The pope had exacted it
even of an emperor a hundred years before; and it is continued by that
dignitary to the present day, on certain state occasions; though in the
case of the pope, there is embroidered on the slipper which the kneeling
suppliant kisses, a _cross_, so that he who humbles himself to this
ceremony may consider, if he pleases, that it is that sacred symbol of
the divine Redeemer's sufferings and death that he so reverently kisses,
and not the human foot by which it is covered.

Rollo could not be made to consent, himself, to kiss King Charles's
foot; and, finally, the difficulty was compromised by his agreeing to do
it by proxy. He ordered one of his courtiers to perform that part of the
ceremony. The courtier obeyed, but when he came to lift the foot, he did
it so rudely and lifted it so high as to turn the monarch over off his
seat. This made a laugh, but Rollo was too powerful for Charles to think
of resenting it.

A few days after this Rollo was baptized in the cathedral church at
Rouen, with great pomp and parade; and then, on the following week, he
was married to Giselle. The din of war in which he had lived for more
than thirty years was now changed into festivities and rejoicings. He
took full and peaceable possession of his dukedom, and governed it for
the remainder of his days with great wisdom, and lived in great
prosperity. He made it, in fact, one of the richest and most prosperous
realms in Europe, and laid the foundations of still higher degrees of
greatness and power, which were gradually developed after his death. And
this was the origin of Normandy.

It appears thus that this part of France was seized by Rollo and his
Northmen partly because it was nearest at hand to them, being accessible
from the English Channel through the River Seine, and partly on account
of its exceeding richness and fertility. It has been famous in every age
as the garden of France, and travelers at the present day gaze upon its
picturesque and beautiful scenery with the highest admiration and
pleasure. And yet the scenes which are there presented to the view are
wholly unlike those which constitute picturesque and beautiful rural
scenery in England and America. In Normandy, the land is not inclosed.
No hedges, fences, or walls break the continuity of the surface, but
vast tracts spread in every direction, divided into plots and squares,
of various sizes and forms, by the varieties of cultivation, like a vast
carpet of an irregular tesselated pattern, and varied in the color by a
thousand hues of brown and green. Here and there vast forests extend,
where countless thousands of trees, though ancient and venerable in
form, stand in rows, mathematically arranged, as they were planted
centuries ago. These are royal demesnes, and hunting grounds, and parks
connected with the country palaces of the kings or the chateaux of the
ancient nobility. The cultivators of the soil live, not, as in America,
in little farm-houses built along the road-sides and dotting the slopes
of the hills, but in compact villages, consisting of ancient dwellings
of brick or stone, densely packed together along a single street, from
which the laborers issue, in picturesque dresses, men and women
together, every morning, to go miles, perhaps, to the scene of their
daily toil. Except these villages, and the occasional appearance of an
ancient chateau, no habitations are seen. The country seems a vast
solitude, teeming everywhere, however, with fertility and beauty. The
roads which traverse these scenes are magnificent avenues, broad,
straight, continuing for many miles an undeviating course over the
undulations of the land, with nothing to separate them from the expanse
of cultivation and fruitfulness on either hand but rows of ancient and
venerable trees. Between these rows of trees the traveler sees an
interminable vista extending both before him and behind him. In England,
the public road winds beautifully between walls overhung with shrubbery,
or hedge-rows, with stiles or gateways here and there, revealing hamlets
or cottages, which appear and disappear in a rapid and endlessly varied
succession, as the road meanders, like a rivulet, between its beautiful
banks. In a word, the public highway in England is beautiful; in France
it is grand.

The greatest city in Normandy in modern times is Rouen, which is
situated, as will be seen by referring to the map at the commencement of
this chapter, on the Seine, half way between Paris and the sea. At the
mouth of the Seine, or, rather, on the northern shore of the estuary
which forms the mouth of the river, is a small inlet, which has been
found to afford, on the whole, the best facilities for a harbor that can
be found on the whole line of the coast. Even this little port, however,
is so filled up with sand, that when the water recedes at low tide it
leaves the shipping all aground. The inlet would, in fact, probably
become filled up entirely were it not for artificial means taken to
prevent it. There are locks and gateways built in such a manner as to
retain a large body of water until the tide is down, and then these
gates are opened, and the water is allowed to rush out all together,
carrying with it the mud and sand which had begun to accumulate. This
haven, being, on the whole, the best and most commodious on the coast,
was called _the_ harbor, or, as the French expressed it in their
language, _le havre_, the word _havre_ meaning harbor. In fact, the name
was in full _le havre de grace_, as if the Normans considered it a
matter of special good luck to have even such a chance of a harbor as
this at the mouth of their river. The English world have, however,
dropped all except the principal word from this long phrase of
designation, and call the port simply Havre.

       *       *       *       *       *

From Rollo the line of Dukes of Normandy continued in uninterrupted
succession down to the time of William, a period of about a hundred and
fifty years. The country increased all the time in wealth, in
population, and in prosperity. The original inhabitants were not,
however, expelled; they remained as peasants, herdsmen, and
agriculturists, while the Norman chieftains settled over them, holding
severally large estates of land which William granted them. The races
gradually became intermingled, though they continued for many centuries
to evince the superior spirit and energy which was infused into the
population by the Norman stock. In fact, it is thought by many observers
that that superiority continues to the present day.




CHAPTER II.

BIRTH OF WILLIAM.

A.D. 912-1033

Castle at Falaise.--Present ruins of the castle.--Scenery of the town
and castle.--Wall and buildings.--Watch-towers.--Sentinels.--Enchanting
prospect.--Chronological history of the Norman line.--Rollo.--William
I., second duke.--Richard I., third duke.--Richard II., fourth
duke.--Richard III., fifth duke.--Intrigues of Robert.--He becomes
the sixth duke.--Robert and Henry.--William's mother.--Robert's
first meeting with Arlotte.--He is captivated.--Robert sends
for Arlotte.--Scruples of her father.--Arlotte sent to the
castle.--Robert's affection for her.--Birth of William.--The nurse's
prediction.--William's childhood.--He is a universal favorite.--Robert
determines to visit the Holy Land.--Dangers of the journey.--He makes
William his heir.--Surprise of the assembly.--The nobles do homage to
William.--William is taken to Paris.--He is presented to the French
king.


Although Rouen is now very far before all the other cities of Normandy
in point of magnitude and importance, and though Rollo, in his conquest
of the country, made it his principal head-quarters and his main
stronghold, it did not continue exclusively the residence of the dukes
of Normandy in after years. The father of William the Conqueror was
Robert, who became subsequently the duke, the sixth in the line. He
resided, at the time when William was born, in a great castle at
Falaise. Falaise, as will be seen upon the map, is west of Rouen, and it
stands, like Rouen, at some distance from the sea. The castle was built
upon a hill, at a little distance from the town. It has long since
ceased to be habitable, but the ruins still remain, giving a picturesque
but mournful beauty to the eminence which they crown. They are often
visited by travelers, who go to see the place where the great hero and
conqueror was born.

The hill on which the old castle stands terminates, on one side, at the
foot of the castle walls, in a precipice of rocks, and on two other
sides, also, the ascent is too steep to be practicable for an enemy. On
the fourth side there is a more gradual declivity, up which the fortress
could be approached by means of a winding roadway. At the foot of this
roadway was the town. The access to the castle from the town was
defended by a ditch and draw-bridge, with strong towers on each side of
the gateway to defend the approach. There was a beautiful stream of
water which meandered along through the valley, near the town, and,
after passing it, it disappeared, winding around the foot of the
precipice which the castle crowned. The castle inclosures were shut in
with walls of stone of enormous thickness; so thick, in fact, they were,
that some of the apartments were built in the body of the wall. There
were various buildings within the inclosure. There was, in particular,
one large, square tower, several stories in height, built of white
stone. This tower, it is said, still stands in good preservation. There
was a chapel, also, and various other buildings and apartments within
the walls, for the use of the ducal family and their numerous retinue
of servants and attendants, for the storage of munitions of war, and for
the garrison. There were watch-towers on the corners of the walls, and
on various lofty projecting pinnacles, where solitary sentinels watched,
the livelong day and night, for any approaching danger. These sentinels
looked down on a broad expanse of richly-cultivated country, fields
beautified with groves of trees, and with the various colors presented
by the changing vegetation, while meandering streams gleamed with their
silvery radiance among them, and hamlets of laborers and peasantry were
scattered here and there, giving life and animation to the scene.

We have said that William's father was Robert, the sixth Duke of
Normandy, so that William himself, being his immediate successor, was
the seventh in the line. And as it is the design of these narratives not
merely to amuse the reader with what is entertaining as a tale, but to
impart substantial historical knowledge, we must prepare the way for the
account of William's birth, by presenting a brief chronological view of
the whole ducal line, extending from Rollo to William. We recommend to
the reader to examine with special attention this brief account of
William's ancestry, for the true causes which led to William's invasion
of England can not be fully appreciated without thoroughly understanding
certain important transactions in which some members of the family of
his ancestors were concerned before he was born. This is particularly
the case with the Lady Emma, who, as will be seen by the following
summary, was the sister of the third duke in the line. The extraordinary
and eventful history of her life is so intimately connected with the
subsequent exploits of William, that it is necessary to relate it in
full, and it becomes, accordingly, the subject of one of the subsequent
chapters of this volume.

_Chronological History of the Norman Line._

ROLLO, first Duke of Normandy.

From A.D. 912 to A.D. 917.

It was about 870 that Rollo was banished from Norway, and a few years
after that, at most, that he landed in France. It was not, however,
until 912 that he concluded his treaty of peace with Charles, so as to
be fully invested with the title of Duke of Normandy.

He was advanced in age at this time, and, after spending five years in
settling the affairs of his realm, he resigned his dukedom into the
hands of his son, that he might spend the remainder of his days in rest
and peace. He died in 922, five years after his resignation.

WILLIAM I., second Duke of Normandy.

From 917 to 942.

William was Rollo's son. He began to reign, of course, five years before
his father's death. He had a quiet and prosperous reign of about
twenty-five years, but he was assassinated at last by a political enemy,
in 942.

RICHARD I., third Duke of Normandy.

From 942 to 996.

He was only ten years old when his father was assassinated. He became
involved in long and arduous wars with the King of France, which
compelled him to call in the aid of more Northmen from the Baltic. His
new allies, in the end, gave him as much trouble as the old enemy, with
whom they came to help William contend; and he found it very hard to get
them away. He wanted, at length, to make peace with the French king, and
to have them leave his dominions; but they said, "That was not what they
came for."

Richard had a beautiful daughter, named Emma, who afterward became a
very important political personage, as will be seen more fully in a
subsequent chapter.

Richard died in 996, after reigning fifty-four years.

RICHARD II., fourth Duke of Normandy.

From 996 to 1026.

Richard II. was the son of Richard I., and as his father had been
engaged during his reign in contentions with his sovereign lord, the
King of France, he, in his turn, was harassed by long-continued
struggles with his vassals, the barons and nobles of his own realm. He,
too, sent for Northmen to come and assist him. During his reign there
was a great contest in England between the Saxons and the Danes, and
Ethelred, who was the Saxon claimant to the throne, came to Normandy,
and soon afterward married the Lady Emma, Richard's sister. The
particulars of this event, from which the most momentous consequences
were afterward seen to flow, will be given in full in a future chapter.
Richard died in 1026. He left two sons, Richard and Robert. William the
Conqueror was the son of the youngest, and was born two years before
this Richard II. died.

RICHARD III., fifth Duke of Normandy.

From 1026 to 1028.

He was the oldest brother, and, of course, succeeded to the dukedom. His
brother Robert was then only a baron--his son William, afterward the
Conqueror, being then about two years old. Robert was very ambitious and
aspiring, and eager to get possession of the dukedom himself. He adopted
every possible means to circumvent and supplant his brother, and, as is
supposed, shortened his days by the anxiety and vexation which he caused
him; for Richard died suddenly and mysteriously only two years after his
accession. It was supposed by some, in fact, that he was poisoned,
though there was never any satisfactory proof of this.

ROBERT, sixth Duke of Normandy.

From 1028 to 1035.

Robert, of course, succeeded his brother, and then, with the
characteristic inconsistency of selfishness and ambition, he employed
all the power of his realm in helping the King of France to subdue his
younger brother, who was evincing the same spirit of seditiousness and
insubmission that he had himself displayed. His assistance was of great
importance to King Henry; it, in fact, decided the contest in his favor;
and thus one younger brother was put down in the commencement of his
career of turbulence and rebellion, by another who had successfully
accomplished a precisely similar course of crime. King Henry was very
grateful for the service thus rendered, and was ready to do all in his
power, at all times, to co-operate with Robert in the plans which the
latter might form. Robert died in 1035, when William was about eleven
years old.

And here we close this brief summary of the history of the ducal line,
as we have already passed the period of William's birth; and we return,
accordingly, to give in detail some of the particulars of that event.

[Illustration: WILLIAM AND ARLOTTE.]

       *       *       *       *       *

Although the dukes of Normandy were very powerful potentates, reigning,
as they did, almost in the character of independent sovereigns, over one
of the richest and most populous territories of the globe, and though
William the Conqueror was the son of one of them, his birth was
nevertheless very ignoble. His mother was not the wife of Robert his
father, but a poor peasant girl, the daughter of an humble tanner of
Falaise; and, indeed, William's father, Robert, was not himself the duke
at this time, but a simple baron, as his father was still living. It
was not even certain that he ever would be the duke, as his older
brother, who, of course, would come before him, was also then alive.
Still, as the son and prospective heir of the reigning duke, his rank
was very high.

The circumstances of Robert's first acquaintance with the tanner's
daughter were these. He was one day returning home to the castle from
some expedition on which he had been sent by his father, when he saw a
group of peasant girls standing on the margin of the brook, washing
clothes. They were barefooted, and their dress was in other respects
disarranged. There was one named Arlotte,[B] the daughter of a tanner of
the town, whose countenance and figure seem to have captivated the young
baron. He gazed at her with admiration and pleasure as he rode along.
Her complexion was fair, her eyes full and blue, and the expression of
her countenance was frank, and open, and happy. She was talking joyously
and merrily with her companions as Robert passed, little dreaming of the
conspicuous place on the page of English history which she was to
occupy, in all future time, in connection with the gay horseman who was
riding by.

[Footnote B: Her name is spelled variously, Arlette, Arlotte, Harlotte,
and in other ways.]

The etiquette of royal and ducal palaces and castles in those days, as
now, forbade that a noble of such lofty rank should marry a peasant
girl. Robert could not, therefore, have Arlotte for his wife; but there
was nothing to prevent his proposing her coming to the castle and living
with him--that is, nothing but the law of God, and this was an authority
to which dukes and barons in the Middle Ages were accustomed to pay very
little regard. There was not even a public sentiment to forbid this, for
a nobility like that of England and France in the Middle Ages stands so
far above all the mass of society as to be scarcely amenable at all to
the ordinary restrictions and obligations of social life. And even to
the present day, in those countries where dukes exist, public sentiment
seems to tolerate pretty generally whatever dukes see fit to do.

Accordingly, as soon as Robert had arrived at the castle, he sent a
messenger from his retinue of attendants down to the village, to the
father of Arlotte, proposing that she should come to the castle. The
father seems to have had some hesitation in respect to his duty. It is
said that he had a brother who was a monk, or rather hermit, who lived
a life of reading, meditation and prayer, in a solitary place not far
from Falaise. Arlotte's father sent immediately to this religious
recluse for his spiritual counsel. The monk replied that it was right to
comply with the wishes of so great a man, whatever they might be. The
tanner, thus relieved of all conscientious scruples on the subject by
this high religious authority, and rejoicing in the opening tide of
prosperity and distinction which he foresaw for his family through the
baron's love, robed and decorated his daughter, like a lamb for the
sacrifice, and sent her to the castle.

Arlotte had one of the rooms assigned her, which was built in the
thickness of the wall. It communicated by a door with the other
apartments and inclosures within the area, and there were narrow windows
in the masonry without, through which she could look out over the broad
expanse of beautiful fields and meadows which were smiling below. Robert
seems to have loved her with sincere and strong affection, and to have
done all in his power to make her happy. Her room, however, could not
have been very sumptuously furnished, although she was the favorite in a
ducal castle--at least so far as we can judge from the few glimpses we
get of the interior through the ancient chroniclers' stories. One story
is, that when William was born, his first exploit was to grasp a handful
of straw, and to hold it so tenaciously in his little fist that the
nurse could scarcely take it away. The nurse was greatly delighted with
this infantile prowess; she considered it an omen, and predicted that
the babe would some day signalize himself by seizing and holding great
possessions. The prediction would have been forgotten if William had not
become the conqueror of England at a future day. As it was, it was
remembered and recorded; and it suggests to our imagination a very
different picture of the conveniences and comforts of Arlotte's chamber
from those presented to the eye in ducal palaces now, where carpets of
velvet silence the tread on marble floors, and favorites repose under
silken canopies on beds of down.

The babe was named William, and he was a great favorite with his father.
He was brought up at Falaise. Two years after his birth, Robert's father
died, and his oldest brother, Richard III., succeeded to the ducal
throne. In two years more, which years were spent in contention between
the brothers, Richard also died, and then Robert himself came into
possession of the castle in his own name, reigning there over all the
cities and domains of Normandy.

William was, of course, now about four years old. He was a bright and
beautiful boy, and he grew more and more engaging every year. His
father, instead of neglecting and disowning him, as it might have been
supposed he would do, took a great deal of pride and pleasure in
witnessing the gradual development of his powers and his increasing
attractiveness, and he openly acknowledged him as his son.

In fact, William was a universal favorite about the castle. When he was
five and six years old he was very fond of playing the soldier. He would
marshal the other boys of the castle, his playmates, into a little
troop, and train them around the castle inclosures, just as ardent and
aspiring boys do with their comrades now. He possessed a certain
vivacity and spirit too, which gave him, even then, a great ascendency
over his playfellows. He invented their plays; he led them in their
mischief; he settled their disputes. In a word, he possessed a
temperament and character which enabled him very easily and strongly to
hold the position which his rank as son of the lord of the castle so
naturally assigned him.

A few years thus passed away, when, at length, Robert conceived the
design of making a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. This was a plan, not of
humble-minded piety, but of ambition for fame. To make a pilgrimage to
the Holy Land was a romantic achievement that covered whoever
accomplished it with a sort of sombre glory, which, in the case of a
prince or potentate, mingled with, and hallowed and exalted, his
military renown. Robert determined on making the pilgrimage. It was a
distant and dangerous journey. In fact, the difficulties and dangers of
the way were perhaps what chiefly imparted to the enterprise its
romance, and gave it its charms. It was customary for kings and rulers,
before setting out, to arrange all the affairs of their kingdoms, to
provide a regency to govern during their absence, and to determine upon
their successors, so as to provide for the very probable contingency of
their not living to return.

As soon, therefore, as Robert announced his plan of a pilgrimage, men's
minds were immediately turned to the question of the succession. Robert
had never been married, and he had consequently no son who was entitled
to succeed him. He had two brothers, and also a cousin, and some other
relatives, who had claims to the succession. These all began to maneuver
among the chieftains and nobles, each endeavoring to prepare the way for
having his own claims advanced, while Robert himself was secretly
determining that the little William should be his heir. He said nothing
about this, however, but he took care to magnify the importance of his
little son in every way, and to bring him as much as possible into
public notice. William, on his part, possessed so much personal beauty,
and so many juvenile accomplishments, that he became a great favorite
with all the nobles, and chieftains, and knights who saw him, sometimes
at his father's castle, and sometimes away from home, in their own
fortresses or towns, where his father took him, from time to time, in
his train.

At length, when affairs were ripe for their consummation, Duke Robert
called together a grand council of all the subordinate dukes, and earls,
and barons of his realm, to make known to them the plan of his
pilgrimage. They came together from all parts of Normandy, each in a
splendid cavalcade, and attended by an armed retinue of retainers. When
the assembly had been convened, and the preliminary forms and
ceremonies had been disposed of, Robert announced his grand design.

As soon as he had concluded, one of the nobles, whose name and title was
Guy, count of Burgundy, rose and addressed the duke in reply. He was
sorry, he said, to hear that the duke, his cousin, entertained such a
plan. He feared for the safety of the realm when the chief ruler should
be gone. All the estates of the realm, he said, the barons, the knights,
the chieftains and soldiers of every degree, would be all without a
head.

"Not so," said Robert: "I will leave you a master in my place." Then,
pointing to the beautiful boy by his side, he added, "I have a little
fellow here, who, though he is little now, I acknowledge, will grow
bigger by and by, with God's grace, and I have great hopes that he will
become a brave and gallant man. I present him to you, and from this time
forth I give him _seizin_[C] of the Duchy of Normandy as my known and
acknowledged heir. And I appoint Alan, duke of Brittany, governor of
Normandy in my name until I shall return, and in case I shall not
return, in the name of William my son, until he shall become of manly
age."

[Footnote C: Seizin, an ancient feudal term denoting the inducting of a
party to a legal possession of his right.]

The assembly was taken wholly by surprise at this announcement. Alan,
duke of Brittany, who was one of the chief claimants to the succession,
was pleased with the honor conferred upon him in making him at once the
governor of the realm, and was inclined to prefer the present certainty
of governing at once in the name of others, to the remote contingency of
reigning in his own. The other claimants to the inheritance were
confounded by the suddenness of the emergency, and knew not what to say
or do. The rest of the assembly were pleased with the romance of having
the beautiful boy for their feudal sovereign. The duke saw at once that
every thing was favorable to the accomplishment of his design. He took
the lad in his arms, kissed him, and held him out in view of the
assembly. William gazed around upon the panoplied warriors before him
with a bright and beaming eye. They knelt down as by a common accord to
do him homage, and then took the oath of perpetual allegiance and
fidelity to his cause.

Robert thought, however, that it would not be quite prudent to leave his
son himself in the custody of these his rivals, so he took him with him
to Paris when he set out upon his pilgrimage, with view of establishing
him there, in the court of Henry, the French king, while he should
himself be gone. Young William was presented to the French king, on a
day set apart for the ceremony, with great pomp and parade. The king
held a special court to receive him. He seated himself on his throne
in a grand apartment of his palace, and was surrounded by his nobles
and officers of state, all magnificently dressed for the occasion. At
the proper time, Duke Robert came in, dressed in his pilgrim's garb,
and leading young William by the hand. His attendant pilgrim knights
accompanied him. Robert led the boy to the feet of their common
sovereign, and, kneeling there, ordered William to kneel too, to do
homage to the king. King Henry received him very graciously. He embraced
him, and promised to receive him into his court, and to take the best
possible care of him while his father was away. The courtiers were
very much struck with the beauty and noble bearing of the boy. His
countenance beamed with an animated, but yet very serious expression,
as he was somewhat awed by the splendor of the scene around him. He
was himself then nine years old.




CHAPTER III.

THE ACCESSION.

A.D. 1035-1040

Robert departs on his pilgrimage.--He visits Rome and
Constantinople.--Robert's illness.--Litter bearers.--Death of
Robert.--Claimants to the crown.--Theroulde.--William's military
education.--The Earl of Arques.--William proclaimed duke.--The
pilgrim knights.--They embrace William's cause.--Debates in the
council on the propriety of William's return.--William's return to
Normandy.--Its effects.--William's accomplishments.--Impression upon
the army.--Claimants in the field.--Iron rule of the nobles.--Almost
a quarrel.--Interview between William and Henry.--Henry's
demand.--William's indignation.--Henry destroys one of William's
castles.--Difficulties which followed.--War with Henry.--William rescues
Falaise.--William received with acclamations.--Punishment of the
governor.--The Earl of Arques.--Advance of Henry.--A dangerous
defile.--Henry's order of march.--William's ambuscade.--Its
success.--Pretended flight of the Normans.--Disarray of the
French.--Rout of the French.--William's embassage to Henry.--The
castle at Arques taken.--William crowned at Falaise.


After spending a little time at Paris, Robert took leave of the king,
and of William his son, and went forth, with a train of attendant
knights, on his pilgrimage. He had a great variety of adventures, which
can not be related here, as it is the history of the son, and not of the
father, which is the subject of this narrative. Though he traveled
strictly as a pilgrim, it was still with great pomp and parade. After
visiting Rome, and accomplishing various services and duties connected
with his pilgrimage there, he laid aside his pilgrim's garb, and,
assuming his proper rank as a great Norman chieftain, he went to
Constantinople, where he made a great display of his wealth and
magnificence. At the time of the grand procession, for example, by which
he entered the city of Constantinople, he rode a mule, which, besides
being gorgeously caparisoned, had shoes of gold instead of iron; and
these shoes were purposely attached so slightly to the hoofs, that they
were shaken off as the animal walked along, to be picked up by the
populace. This was to impress them with grand ideas of the rider's
wealth and splendor. After leaving Constantinople, Robert resumed his
pilgrim's garb, and went on toward the Holy Land.

The journey, however, did not pass without the usual vicissitudes of so
long an absence and so distant a pilgrimage. At one time Robert was
sick, and, after lingering for some time in a fever, he so far recovered
his strength as to be borne on a litter by the strength of other men,
though he could not advance himself, either on horseback or on foot; and
as for traveling carriages, there had been no such invention in those
days. They made arrangements, therefore, for carrying the duke on a
litter. There were sixteen Moorish slaves employed to serve as his
bearers. This company was divided into sets, four in each, the several
sets taking the burden in rotation. Robert and his attendant knights
looked down with great contempt on these black pagan slaves. One day the
cavalcade was met by a Norman who was returning home to Normandy after
having accomplished his pilgrimage. He asked Duke Robert if he had any
message to send to his friends at home. "Yes," said he; "tell them you
saw me here, on my way to Paradise, carried by sixteen _demons_."

Robert reached Jerusalem, and set out on his return; and soon after
rumors came back to Paris that he had died on his way home. The accounts
of the manner of his death were contradictory and uncertain; but the
fact was soon made sure, and the news produced every where a great
sensation. It soon appeared that the brothers and cousins of Robert, who
had claimed the right to succeed him in preference to his son William,
had only suspended their claims--they had not abandoned them. They began
to gather their forces, each in his own separate domain, and to prepare
to take the field, if necessary, in vindication of what they considered
their rights to the inheritance. In a word, their oaths of fealty to
William were all forgotten, and each claimant was intent only on getting
possession himself of the ducal crown.

In the mean time, William himself was at Paris, and only eleven years of
age. He had been receiving a careful education there, and was a very
prepossessing and accomplished young prince. Still, he was yet but a
mere boy. He had been under the care of a military tutor, whose name
was Theroulde. Theroulde was a veteran soldier, who had long been in
the employ of the King of France. He took great interest in his young
pupil's progress. He taught him to ride and to practice all the
evolutions of horsemanship which were required by the tactics of those
days. He trained him, too, in the use of arms, the bow and arrow, the
javelin, the sword, the spear, and accustomed him to wear, and to
exercise in, the armor of steel with which warriors were used, in those
days, to load themselves in going into battle. Young princes like
William had suits of this armor made for them, of small size, which they
were accustomed to wear in private in their military exercises and
trainings, and to appear in, publicly, on great occasions of state.
These dresses of iron were of course very heavy and uncomfortable, but
the young princes and dukes were, nevertheless, very proud and happy to
wear them.

While William was thus engaged in pursuing his military education in
Paris, several competitors for his dukedom immediately appeared in
Normandy and took the field. The strongest and most prominent among them
was the Earl of Arques. His name was William too, but, to distinguish
him from the young duke, we shall call him Arques. He was a brother of
Robert, and maintained that, as Robert left no lawful heir, he was
indisputably entitled to succeed him. Arques assembled his forces and
prepared to take possession of the country.

It will be recollected that Robert, when he left Normandy in setting out
on his pilgrimage, had appointed a nobleman named Alan to act as regent,
or governor of the country, until he should return; or, in case he
should never return, until William should become of age. Alan had a
council of officers, called the council of regency, with whose aid he
managed the administration of the government. This council, with Alan at
their head, proclaimed young William duke, and immediately began to act
in his name. When they found that the Earl of Arques was preparing to
seize the government, they began to assemble their forces also, and thus
both sides prepared for war.

Before they actually commenced hostilities, however, the pilgrim knights
who had accompanied Robert on his pilgrimage, and who had been
journeying home slowly by themselves ever since their leader's death,
arrived in Normandy. These were chieftains and nobles of high rank and
influence, and each of the contending parties were eager to have them
join their side. Besides the actual addition of force which these men
could bring to the cause they should espouse, the moral support they
would give to it was a very important consideration. Their having been
on this long and dangerous pilgrimage invested them with a sort of
romantic and religious interest in the minds of all the people, who
looked up to them, in consequence of it, with a sort of veneration and
awe; and then, as they had been selected by Robert to accompany him on
his pilgrimage, and had gone on the long and dangerous journey with him,
continuing to attend upon him until he died, they were naturally
regarded as his most faithful and confidential friends. For these and
similar reasons, it was obvious that the cause which they should espouse
in the approaching contest would gain a large accession of moral power
by their adhesion.

As soon as they arrived in Normandy, rejecting all proposals from other
quarters, they joined young William's cause with the utmost promptitude
and decision. Alan received them at once into his councils. An assembly
was convened, and the question was discussed whether William should be
sent for to come to Normandy. Some argued that he was yet a mere boy,
incapable of rendering them any real service in the impending contest,
while he would be exposed, more perhaps than they themselves, to be
taken captive or slain. They thought it best, therefore, that he should
remain, for the present, in Paris, under the protection of the French
king.

Others, on the other hand, contended that the influence of William's
presence, boy as he was, would animate and inspire all his followers,
and awaken every where, throughout the country, a warm interest in his
cause; that his very tenderness and helplessness would appeal strongly
to every generous heart, and that his youthful accomplishments and
personal charms would enlist thousands in his favor, who would forget,
and perhaps abandon him, if he kept away. Besides, it was by no means
certain that he was so safe as some might suppose in King Henry's
custody and power. King Henry might himself lay claims to the vacant
duchy, with a view of bestowing it upon some favorite of his own, in
which case he might confine young William in one of his castles, in an
honorable, but still rigid and hopeless captivity, or treacherously
destroy his life by the secret administration of poison.

These latter counsels prevailed. Alan and the nobles who were with him
sent an embassage to the court of King Henry to bring William home.
Henry made objections and difficulties. This alarmed the nobles. They
feared that it would prove true that Henry himself had designs on
Normandy. They sent a new embassage, with demands more urgent than
before. Finally, after some time spent in negotiations and delays, King
Henry concluded to yield, and William set out on his return. He was now
about twelve or thirteen years old. His military tutor, Theroulde,
accompanied him, and he was attended likewise by the embassadors whom
Alan had sent for him, and by a strong escort for his protection by the
way. He arrived in safety at Alan's head-quarters.

William's presence in Normandy had the effect which had been anticipated
from it. It awakened every where a great deal of enthusiasm in his
favor. The soldiers were pleased to see how handsome their young
commander was in form, and how finely he could ride. He was, in fact, a
very superior equestrian for one so young. He was more fond, even, than
other boys of horses; and as, of course, the most graceful and the
fleetest horses which could be found were provided for him, and as
Theroulde had given him the best and most complete instruction, he made
a fine display as he rode swiftly through the camp, followed by veteran
nobles, splendidly dressed and mounted, and happy to be in his train,
while his own countenance beamed with a radiance in which native
intelligence and beauty were heightened by the animation and excitement
of pride and pleasure. In respect to the command of the army, of course
the real power remained in Alan's hands, but every thing was done in
William's name; and in respect to all external marks and symbols of
sovereignty, the beautiful boy seemed to possess the supreme command;
and as the sentiment of loyalty is always the strongest when the object
which calls for the exercise of it is most helpless or frail, Alan found
his power very much increased when he had this beautiful boy to exhibit
as the true and rightful heir, in whose name and for whose benefit all
his power was held.

Still, however, the country was very far from becoming settled. The Earl
of Arques kept the field, and other claimants, too, strengthened
themselves in their various castles and towns, as if preparing to
resist. In those days, every separate district of the country was almost
a separate realm, governed by its own baron, who lived, with his
retainers, within his own castle walls, and ruled the land around him
with a rod of iron. These barons were engaged in perpetual quarrels
among themselves, each plundering the dominions of the rest, or making
hostile incursions into the territories of a neighbor to revenge some
real or imaginary wrong. This turbulence and disorder prevailed every
where throughout Normandy at the time of William's return. In the
general confusion, William's government scarcely knew who were his
friends or his enemies. At one time, when a deputation was sent to some
of the barons in William's name, summoning them to come with their
forces and join his standard, as they were in duty bound to do, they
felt independent enough to send back word to him that they had "too much
to do in settling their own quarrels to be able to pay any attention to
his."

In the course of a year or two, moreover, and while his own realm
continued in this unsettled and distracted state, William became
involved in what was almost a quarrel with King Henry himself. When he
was fifteen years old, which was two or three years after his return
from Paris to Normandy, Henry sent directions to William to come to a
certain town, called Evreux, situated about half way between Falaise and
Paris, and just within the confines of Normandy,[D] to do homage to him
there for his duchy. There was some doubt among William's counselors
whether it would be most prudent to obey or disobey this command. They
finally concluded that it was best to obey. Grand preparations were
accordingly made for the expedition; and, when all was ready, the young
duke was conducted in great state, and with much pomp and parade, to
meet his sovereign.

[Footnote D: See map at the commencement of chapter ix.]

The interview between William and his sovereign, and the ceremonies
connected with it, lasted some days. In the course of this time, William
remained at Evreux, and was, in some sense, of course, in Henry's power.
William, having been so long in Henry's court as a mere boy, accustomed
all the time to look up to and obey Henry as a father, regarded him
somewhat in that light now, and approached him with great deference and
respect. Henry received him in a somewhat haughty and imperious manner,
as if he considered him still under the same subjection as heretofore.

William had a fortress or castle on the frontiers of his dukedom, toward
Henry's dominions. The name of the castle was Tellieres, and the
governor of it was a faithful old soldier named De Crespin. William's
father, Robert, had intrusted De Crespin with the command of the castle,
and given him a garrison to defend it. Henry now began to make complaint
to William in respect to this castle. The garrison, he said, were
continually making incursions into his dominions. William replied that
he was very sorry that there was cause for such a complaint. He would
inquire into it, and if the fact were really so, he would have the evil
immediately corrected. Henry replied that that was not sufficient. "You
must deliver up the castle to me," he said, "to be destroyed." William
was indignant at such a demand; but he was so accustomed to obey
implicitly whatever King Henry might require of him, that he sent the
order to have the castle surrendered.

When, however, the order came to De Crespin, the governor of the castle,
he refused to obey it. The fortress, he said, had been committed to his
charge by Robert, duke of Normandy, and he should not give it up to the
possession of any foreign power. When this answer was reported to
William and his counselors, it made them still more indignant than
before at the domineering tyranny of the command, and more disposed than
ever to refuse obedience to it. Still William was in a great measure in
the monarch's power. On cool reflection, they perceived that resistance
would then be vain. New and more authoritative orders were accordingly
issued for the surrender of the castle. De Crespin now obeyed. He gave
up the keys and withdrew with his garrison. William was then allowed to
leave Evreux and return home, and soon afterward the castle was razed to
the ground.

This affair produced, of course, a great deal of animosity and
irritation between the governments of France and Normandy; and where
such a state of feeling exists between two powers separated only by an
imaginary line running through a populous and fertile country,
aggressions from one side and from the other are sure to follow. These
are soon succeeded by acts of retaliation and revenge, leading, in the
end, to an open and general war. It was so now. Henry marched his
armies into Normandy, seized towns, destroyed castles, and, where he was
resisted by the people, he laid waste the country with fire and sword.
He finally laid siege to the very castle of Falaise.

William and his government were for a time nearly overwhelmed with the
tide of disaster and calamity. The tide turned, however, at length, and
the fortune of war inclined in their favor. William rescued the town and
castle of Falaise; it was in a very remarkable manner, too, that this
exploit was accomplished. The fortress was closely invested with Henry's
forces, and was on the very eve of being surrendered. The story is, that
Henry had offered bribes to the governor of the castle to give it up to
him, and that the governor had agreed to receive them and to betray his
trust. While he was preparing to do so, William arrived at the head of a
resolute and determined band of Normans. They came with so sudden an
onset upon the army of besiegers as to break up their camp and force
them to abandon the siege. The people of the town and the garrison of
the castle were extremely rejoiced to be thus rescued, and when they
came to learn through whose instrumentality they had been saved, and
saw the beautiful horseman whom they remembered as a gay and happy
child playing about the precincts of the castle, they were perfectly
intoxicated with delight. They filled the air with the wildest
acclamations, and welcomed William back to the home of his childhood
with manifestations of the most extravagant joy. As to the traitorous
governor, he was dealt with very leniently. Perhaps the general feeling
of joy awakened emotions of leniency and forgiveness in William's
mind--or perhaps the proof against the betrayer was incomplete. They did
not, therefore, take his life, which would have been justly forfeited,
according to the military ideas of the times, if he had been really
guilty. They deprived him of his command, confiscated his property, and
let him go free.

After this, William's forces continued for some time to make head
successfully against those of the King of France; but then, on the other
hand, the danger from his uncle, the Earl of Arques, increased. The earl
took advantage of the difficulty and danger in which William was
involved in his contests with King Henry, and began to organize his
forces again. He fortified himself in his castle at Arques,[E] and was
collecting a large force there. Arques was in the northeastern part of
Normandy, near the sea, where the ruins of the ancient castle still
remain. The earl built an almost impregnable tower for himself on the
summit of the rock on which the castle stood, in a situation so
inaccessible that he thought he could retreat to it in any emergency,
with a few chosen followers, and bid defiance to any assault. In and
around this castle the earl had got quite a large army together. William
advanced with his forces, and, encamping around them, shut them in. King
Henry, who was then in a distant part of Normandy, began to put his army
in motion to come to the rescue of Arques.

[Footnote E: See map, chapter ix.]

Things being in this state, William left a strong body of men to
continue the investment and siege of Arques, and went off himself, at
the head of the remainder of his force, to intercept Henry on his
advance. The result was a battle and a victory, gained under
circumstances so extraordinary, that William, young as he was, acquired
by his exploits a brilliant and universal renown.

It seems that Henry, in his progress to Arques, had to pass through a
long and gloomy valley, which was bounded on either side by precipitous
and forest-covered hills. Through this dangerous defile the long train
of Henry's army was advancing, arranged and marshaled in such an order
as seemed to afford the greatest hope of security in case of an attack.
First came the vanguard, a strong escort, formed of heavy bodies of
soldiery, armed with battle-axes and pikes, and other similar weapons,
the most efficient then known. Immediately after this vanguard came a
long train of baggage, the tents, the provisions, the stores, and all
the munitions of war. The baggage was followed by a great company of
servants--the cooks, the carters, the laborers, the camp followers of
every description--a throng of non-combatants, useless, of course, in a
battle, and a burden on a march, and yet the inseparable and
indispensable attendant of an army, whether at rest or in motion. After
this throng came the main body of the army, with the king, escorted by
his guard of honor, at the head of it. An active and efficient corps of
lancers and men-at-arms brought up the rear.

William conceived the design of drawing this cumbrous and unmanageable
body into an ambuscade. He selected, accordingly, the narrowest and most
dangerous part of the defile for the purpose, and stationed vast
numbers of Norman soldiers, armed with javelins and arrows, upon the
slopes of the hill on either side, concealing them all carefully among
the thickets and rocks. He then marshaled the remainder of his forces
in the valley, and sent them up the valley to meet Henry as he was
descending. This body of troops, which was to advance openly to meet the
king, as if they constituted the whole of William's force, were to fight
a pretended battle with the vanguard, and then to retreat, in hopes to
draw the whole train after them in a pursuit so eager as to throw them
into confusion; and then, when the column, thus disarranged, should
reach the place of ambuscade, the Normans were to come down upon them
suddenly from their hiding-places, and complete their discomfiture.

The plan was well laid, and wisely and bravely executed; and it was most
triumphantly successful in its result. The vanguard of Henry's army were
deceived by the pretended flight of the Norman detachment. They
supposed, too, that it constituted the whole body of their enemies. They
pressed forward, therefore, with great exultation and eagerness to
pursue them. News of the attack, and of the apparent repulse with which
the French soldiers had met it, passed rapidly along the valley,
producing every where the wildest excitement, and an eager desire to
press forward to the scene of conflict. The whole valley was filled with
shouts and outcries; baggage was abandoned, that those who had charge of
it might hurry on; men ran to and fro for tidings, or ascended eminences
to try to see. Horsemen drove at full speed from front to rear, and from
rear on to the front again; orders and counter orders were given, which
nobody would understand or attend to in the general confusion and din.
In fact, the universal attention seemed absorbed in one general and
eager desire to press forward with headlong impetuosity to the scene of
victory and pursuit which they supposed was enacting in the van.

The army pressed on in this confused and excited manner until they
reached the place of ambuscade. They went on, too, through this narrow
passage, as heedlessly as ever; and, when the densest and most powerful
portion of the column was crowding through, they were suddenly
thunderstruck by the issuing of a thousand weapons from the heights and
thickets above them on either hand--a dreadful shower of arrows,
javelins, and spears, which struck down hundreds in a moment, and
overwhelmed the rest with astonishment and terror. As soon as this first
discharge had been effected, the concealed enemy came pouring down the
sides of the mountain, springing out from a thousand hiding-places, as
if suddenly brought into being by some magic power. The discomfiture of
Henry's forces was complete and irremediable. The men fled every where
in utter dismay, trampling upon and destroying one another, as they
crowded back in terrified throngs to find some place of safety up the
valley. There, after a day or two, Henry got together the scattered
remains of his army, and established something like a camp.

It is a curious illustration of the feudal feelings of those times in
respect to the gradation of ranks, or else of the extraordinary modesty
and good sense of William's character, that he assumed no airs of
superiority over his sovereign, and showed no signs of extravagant
elation after this battle. He sent a respectful embassage to Henry,
recognizing his own acknowledged subjection to Henry as his sovereign,
and imploring his protection! He looked confidently to him, he said, for
aid and support against his rebellious subjects.

Though he thus professed, however, to rely on Henry, he really trusted
most, it seems, to his own right arm; for, as soon as this battle was
fairly over, and while the whole country was excited with the
astonishing brilliancy of the exploit performed by so young a man,
William mounted his horse, and calling upon those to follow him who
wished to do so, he rode at full speed, at the head of a small
cavalcade, to the castle at Arques. His sudden appearance here, with the
news of the victory, inspirited the besiegers to such a degree that the
castle was soon taken. He allowed the rebel earl to escape, and thus,
perhaps, all the more effectually put an end to the rebellion. He was
now in peaceable possession of his realm.

He went in triumph to Falaise, where he was solemnly crowned with great
ceremony and parade, and all Normandy was filled with congratulations
and rejoicings.




CHAPTER IV.

WILLIAM'S REIGN IN NORMANDY.

A.D. 1040-1060

A lapse of twenty years.--Conspiracy of Guy of Burgundy.--The fool
or jester.--Meetings of the conspirators.--Final plans of the
conspirators.--Discovered by Galet.--Galet sets out in search of
William.--He finds him asleep.--William's flight.--His narrow
escape.--William is recognized.--Hubert's castle.--Hubert's
sons.--Pursuit of the conspirators.--Defeat of the rebels.--Their
punishment.--Curious incident.--Coats of armor.--Origin of
heraldry.--Rollo de Tesson.--Keeping both oaths.--Changing
sides.--Character of the ancient chieftains.--Their love of
war.--Ancient castles.--Their interior construction.--Nothing
respectable for the nobility but war.--Rebellions.--Insulting allusions
to William's birth.--The ambuscade.--Its failure.--Insults of the
garrison.--Indignation of William.--William's campaign in France.--His
popularity.--William's prowess.--True nature of courage.--An
ambuscade.--William's bravery.--William's victory.--Applause of the
French army.--William firmly seated on his throne.--His new projects.


From the time of William's obtaining quiet possession of his realm to
his invasion of England, a long period intervened. There was a lapse of
more than twenty years. During this long interval, William governed his
duchy, suppressed insurrections, built castles and towns, carried on
wars, regulated civil institutions, and, in fact, exercised, in a very
energetic and successful manner, all the functions of government--his
life being diversified all the time by the usual incidents which mark
the career of a great military ruler of an independent realm in the
Middle Ages. We will give in this chapter a description of some of these
incidents.

On one occasion a conspiracy was formed to take his life by secret
assassination. A great chieftain, named Guy of Burgundy, William's
uncle, was the leader of it, and a half-witted man, named Galet, who
occupied the place of jester or fool in William's court, was the means
of discovering and exposing it. These jesters, of whom there was always
one or more in the retinue of every great prince in those days, were
either very eccentric or very foolish, or half-insane men, who were
dressed fantastically, in gaudy colors and with cap and bells, and were
kept to make amusement for the court. The name of William's jester was
Galet.

Guy of Burgundy and his fellow-conspirators occupied certain gloomy
castles, built in remote and lonely situations on the confines of
Normandy. Here they were accustomed to assemble for the purpose
of concocting their plans, and gathering their men and their
resources--doing every thing in the most cunning and secret manner.
Before their scheme was fully ripe for execution, it happened that
William made a hunting excursion into the neighborhood of their
territory with a small band of followers--such as would be naturally got
together on such a party of pleasure. Galet, the fool, was among them.

As soon as Guy and his fellow-conspirators learned that William was so
near, they determined to precipitate the execution of their plan, and
waylay and assassinate him on his return.

They accordingly left their secret and lonely rendezvous among the
mountains one by one, in order to avoid attracting observation, and
went to a town called Bayeux, through which they supposed that William
would have to pass on his return. Here they held secret consultations,
and formed their final plans. They sent out a part of their number, in
small bands, into the region of country which William would have to
cross, to occupy the various roads and passes, and thus to cut off all
possibility of his escape. They made all these arrangements in the most
secret and cautious manner, and began to think that they were sure of
their prey.

It happened, however, that some of William's attendants, with Galet the
fool among them, had preceded William on his return, and had reached
Bayeux[F] at the time when the conspirators arrived there. The
townspeople did not observe the coming of the conspirators particularly,
as many horsemen and soldiers were coming and going at that time, and
they had no means of distinguishing the duke's friends from his enemies;
but Galet, as he sauntered about the town, noticed that there were many
soldiers and knights to be seen who were not of his master's party.
This attracted his attention; he began to watch the motions of these
strangers, and to listen, without seeming to listen, in order to catch
the words they spoke to each other as they talked in groups or passed
one another in the streets. He was soon satisfied that some mischief
was intended. He immediately threw aside his cap and bells, and his
fantastic dress, and, taking a staff in his hand, he set off on foot to
go back as fast as possible in search of the duke, and give him the
alarm. He found the duke at a village called Valonges. He arrived there
at night. He pressed forward hastily into his master's chamber, half
forcing his way through the attendants, who, accustomed to the liberties
which such a personage as he was accustomed to take on all occasions,
made only a feeble resistance to his wishes. He found the duke asleep,
and he called upon him with a very earnest voice to awake and arise
immediately, for his life was in danger.

[Footnote F: See map, chapter ix.]

William was at first inclined to disbelieve the story which Galet told
him, and to think that there was no cause to fear. He was, however, soon
convinced that Galet was right, and that there was reason for alarm. He
arose and dressed himself hastily; and, inasmuch as a monarch, in the
first moments of the discovery of a treasonable plot, knows not whom to
trust, William wisely concluded not to trust any body. He went himself
to the stables, saddled his horse with his own hand, mounted him, and
rode away. He had a very narrow escape; for, at the same time, while
Galet was hastening to Valonges to give his master warning of his
danger, the conspirators had been advancing to the same place, and had
completely surrounded it; and they were on the eve of making an attack
upon William's quarters at the very hour when he set out upon his
flight. William had accordingly proceeded only a little way on his route
before he heard the footsteps of galloping horses, and the clanking of
arms, on the road behind him. It was a troop of the conspirators coming,
who, finding that William had fled, had set off immediately in pursuit.
William rode hastily into a wood, and let them go by.

[Illustration: WILLIAM'S ESCAPE.]

He remained for some time in his hiding-place, and then cautiously
emerged from it to continue his way. He did not dare to keep the public
road, although it was night, but took a wild and circuitous route, in
lanes and bypaths, which conducted him, at length, to the vicinity of
the sea. Here, about day-break, he was passing a mansion, supposing that
no one would observe him at so early an hour, when, suddenly, he
perceived a man sitting at the gate, armed and equipped, and in an
attitude of waiting. He was waiting for his horse. He was a nobleman
named Hubert. He recognized William immediately as the duke, and
accosted him in a tone of astonishment, saying, "Why, my lord duke, is
it possible that this is you?" He was amazed to see the ruler of the
realm out at such an hour, in such a condition, alone, exhausted, his
dress all in disorder from the haste with which he had put it on, and
his steed breathless and covered with dust, and ready, apparently, to
drop down with fatigue and exhaustion.

William, finding that he was recognized, related his story. It appeared,
in the end, that Hubert held his own castle and village as a tenant of
one of the principal conspirators, and was bound, according to the
feudal ideas of the time, to espouse his landlord's cause. He told
William, however, that he had nothing to fear. "I will defend your
life," said he, "as if it were my own." So saying, he called his three
sons, who were all athletic and courageous young men, and commanded them
to mount their horses and get ready for a march. He took William into
his castle, and gave him the food and refreshment that he needed. Then
he brought him again into the court-yard of the house, where William
found the three young horsemen mounted and ready, and a strong and fleet
steed prepared for himself. He mounted. Hubert commanded his sons to
conduct the prince with all dispatch to Falaise, without traveling at
all upon the highway or entering a town. They took, accordingly, a
straight course across the country--which was probably then, as now,
nearly destitute of inclosures--and conducted William safely to his
castle at Falaise.

In the course of the morning, William's pursuers came to Hubert's
castle, and asked if the duke had been seen going by. Hubert replied in
the affirmative, and he mounted his steed with great readiness to go and
show them the road which the fugitive had taken. He urged them to ride
hard, in hopes of soon overtaking the object of their pursuit. They
drove on, accordingly, with great impetuosity and ardor, under Hubert's
guidance; but, as he had purposely taken a wrong road, he was only
leading them further and further astray. Finally they gave up the chase,
and Hubert returned with the disappointed pursuers to his fortress,
William having in the mean time arrived safely at Falaise.

The conspirators now found that it was useless any longer to attempt to
conceal their plans. In fact, they were already all exposed, and they
knew that William would immediately summon his troops and come out to
seize them. They must, therefore, either fly from the country or attempt
an open rebellion. They decided on the latter--the result was a civil
war. In the end, William was victorious. He took a large number of the
rebels prisoners, and he adopted the following very singular plan for
inflicting a suitable punishment upon them, and at the same time
erecting a permanent monument of his victory. He laid out a public road
across the country, on the line over which he had been conducted by the
sons of Hubert, and compelled the rebels to make it. A great part of
this country was low and marshy, and had been for this reason avoided by
the public road, which took a circuitous course around it. The rebel
prisoners were now, however, set at work to raise a terrace or
embankment, on a line surveyed by William's engineers, which followed
almost exactly the course of his retreat. The high road was then laid
out upon this terrace, and it became immediately a public thoroughfare
of great importance. It continued for several centuries one of the most
frequented highways in the realm, and was known by the name of the
Raised Road--_Terre levee_--throughout the kingdom. In fact, the remains
of it, appearing like the ruins of an ancient rail-road embankment,
exist to the present day.

In the course of the war with these rebels a curious incident occurred
at one of the battles, or, rather, is said to have occurred, by the
historians who tell the story, which, if true, illustrates very
strikingly the romantic and chivalrous ideas of the times. Just as the
battle was commencing, William perceived a strong and finely-equipped
body of horsemen preparing to charge upon the very spot where he
himself, surrounded by his officers, was standing. Now the armor worn by
knights in battle in those times covered and concealed the figure and
the face so fully, that it would have been impossible even for
acquaintances and friends to recognize each other, were it not that the
knights were all accustomed to wear certain devices upon some part of
their armor--painted, for instance, upon their shields, or embroidered
on little banners which they bore--by means of which they might be
known. These devices became at length hereditary in the great
families--sons being proud to wear, themselves, the emblems to which the
deeds of their fathers had imparted a trace of glory and renown. The
devices of different chieftains were combined, sometimes, in cases of
intermarriage, or were modified in various ways; and with these minor
changes they would descend from generation to generation as the family
coat of arms. And this was the origin of heraldry.

Now the body of horsemen that were advancing to the charge, as above
described, had each of them his device upon a little flag or banner
attached to their lances. As they were advancing, William scrutinized
them closely, and presently recognized in their leader a man who had
formerly been upon his side. His name was Rollo de Tesson. He was one of
those who had sworn fealty to him at the time when his father Robert
presented him to the council, when setting out upon his pilgrimage.
William accordingly exclaimed, with a loud voice, "Why, these are my
friends!" The officers and the soldiers of the body-guard who were with
him, taking up the cry, shouted "_Friends! friends!_" Rollo de Tesson
and the other knights, who were slowly coming up, preparing to charge
upon William's party, surprised at being thus accosted, paused in their
advance, and finally halted. Rollo said to the other knights, who
gathered around him, "I _was_ his friend. I gave my oath to his father
that I would stand by him and defend him with my life; and now I have
this morning sworn to the Count of Cotentin"--the Count of Cotentin was
the leader of the rebellion--"that I would seek out William on the
battle-field, and be the first to give him a blow. I know not what to
do." "Keep both oaths," replied one of his companions. "Go and strike
him a gentle blow, and then defend him with your life." The whole troop
seconded this proposal by acclamation. Rollo advanced, followed by the
other knights, with gestures and shouts denoting that they were friends.
He rode up to William, told him that he had that morning sworn to strike
him, and then dealt him a pretended blow upon his shoulder; but as both
the shoulder and the hand which struck it were armed with steel, the
clanking sound was all the effect that was produced. Rollo and his
troop--their sworn obligation to the Count of Cotentin being thus
fulfilled--turned now into the ranks of William's soldiery, and fought
valiantly all day upon his side.

Although William was generally victorious in the battles that he fought,
and succeeded in putting down one rebellion after another with
promptness and decision, still, new rebellions and new wars were
constantly breaking out, which kept his dominions in a continual state
of commotion. In fact, the chieftains, the nobles, and the knights,
constituting the only classes of society that exercised any influence,
or were regarded with any respect in those days, were never contented
except when actively employed in military campaigns. The excitements and
the glory of war were the only excitements and glory that they
understood, or had the means of enjoying. Their dwellings were great
fortresses, built on the summits of the rocks, which, however
picturesque and beautiful they appear as _ruins_ now, were very gloomy
and desolate as residences then. They were attractive enough when their
inmates were flying to them for refuge from an enemy, or were employed
within the walls in concentrating their forces and brightening up their
arms for some new expedition for vengeance or plunder, but they were
lonely and lifeless scenes of restlessness and discontent in times of
quietness and peace.

It is difficult for us, at this day, to conceive how destitute of all
the ordinary means of comfort and enjoyment, in comparison with a modern
dwelling, the ancient feudal castles must have been. They were placed in
situations as nearly inaccessible as possible, and the natural
impediments of approach were increased by walls, and gates, and ditches,
and draw-bridges. The door of access was often a window in the wall, ten
or fifteen feet from the ground, to which the inmates or their friends
mounted by a ladder. The floors were of stone, the walls were naked, the
ceiling was a rudely-constructed series of arches. The apartments, too,
were ordinarily small, and were arranged one above another, in the
successive stories of a tower. Nor could these cell-like chambers be
enlivened by the wide and cheerful windows of modern times, which not
only admit the light to animate the scene within, but also afford to the
spectator there, wide-spread, and sometimes enchanting views of the
surrounding country. The castle windows of ancient days were, on the
contrary, narrow loop-holes, each at the bottom of a deep recess in the
thick wall. If they had been made wide they would have admitted too
easily the arrows and javelins of besiegers, as well as the wind and
rain of wintery storms. There were no books in these desolate dwellings,
no furniture but armor, no pleasures but drinking and carousals.

Nor could these noble and valiant knights and barons occupy themselves
in any useful employment. There was nothing which it was respectable for
them to do but to fight. They looked down with contempt upon all the
industrial pursuits of life. The cultivation of farms, the rearing of
flocks and herds, arts, manufactures, and commerce--every thing of this
sort, by which man can benefit his fellow-man, was entirely beneath
them. In fact, their descendants to the present day, even in England,
entertain the same ideas. Their younger sons can enter the army or the
navy, and spend their lives in killing and destroying, or in awaiting,
in idleness, dissipation, and vice, for orders to kill and destroy,
without dishonor; but to engage in any way in those vast and magnificent
operations of peaceful industry, on which the true greatness and glory
of England depend, would be perpetual and irretrievable disgrace. A
young nobleman can serve, in the most subordinate official capacity, on
board a man-of-war, and take pay for it, without degradation; but to
_build_ a man-of-war itself and take pay for it, would be to compel his
whole class to disown him.

It was in consequence of this state of feeling among the knights and
barons of William's day that peace was always tedious and irksome to
them, and they were never contented except when engaged in battles and
campaigns. It was this feeling, probably, quite as much as any settled
hostility to William's right to reign, that made his barons so eager to
engage in insurrections and rebellions. There was, however, after all,
a real and deep-seated opposition to William's right of succession,
founded in the ideas of the day. They could not well endure that one of
so humble and even ignominious birth, on the mother's side, should be
the heir of so illustrious a line as the great dukes of Normandy.
William's enemies were accustomed to designate him by opprobrious
epithets, derived from the circumstances of his birth. Though he was
patient and enduring, and often very generous in forgiving other
injuries, these insults to the memory of his mother always stung him
very deeply, and awakened the strongest emotions of resentment. One
instance of this was so conspicuous that it is recorded in almost all
the histories of William that have been written.

It was in the midst of one of the wars in which he was involved, that
he was advancing across the country to the attack of a strong castle,
which, in addition to the natural strength of its walls and
fortifications, was defended by a numerous and powerful garrison. So
confident, in fact, were the garrison in their numbers and power, that
when they heard that William was advancing to attack them, they sent out
a detachment to meet him. This detachment, however, were not intending
to give him open battle. Their plan was to lay in ambuscade, and attack
William's troops when they came to the spot, and while they were unaware
of the vicinity of an enemy, and off their guard.

William, however, they found, was not off his guard. He attacked the
ambuscade with so much vigor as to put the whole force immediately to
flight. Of course the fugitives directed their steps toward the castle.
William and his soldiers followed them in headlong pursuit. The end was,
that the detachment from the garrison had scarcely time, after making
good their own entrance, to raise the draw-bridges and secure the
gates, so as to keep their pursuers from entering too. They did,
however, succeed in doing this, and William, establishing his troops
about the castle, opened his lines and commenced a regular siege.

The garrison were very naturally vexed and irritated at the bad success
of their intended stratagem. To have the ambuscade not only fail of its
object, but to have also the men that formed it driven thus
ignominiously in, and so narrowly escaping, also, the danger of letting
in the whole troop of their enemies after them, was a great disgrace. To
retaliate upon William, and to throw back upon him the feelings of
mortification and chagrin which they felt themselves, they mounted the
walls and towers, and shouted out all sorts of reproaches and insults.
Finally, when they found that they could not make mere words
sufficiently stinging, they went and procured skins and hides, and
aprons of leather, and every thing else that they could find that was
connected with the trade of a tanner, and shook them at the troops of
their assailants from the towers and walls, with shouts of merriment and
derision.

William was desperately enraged at these insults. He organized an
assaulting party, and by means of the great exertions which the
exasperation of his men stimulated them to make, he carried some of the
outworks, and took a number of prisoners. These prisoners he cut to
pieces, and then caused their bloody and mangled limbs and members to
be thrown, by great slings, over the castle walls.

At one time during the period which is included within the limits of
this chapter, and in the course of one of those intervals of peace and
quietness within his own dominions which William sometimes enjoyed, the
King of France became involved in a war with one of his own rebellious
subjects, and William went, with an army of Normans, to render him aid.
King Henry was at first highly gratified at this prompt and effectual
succor, but he soon afterward began to feel jealous of the universal
popularity and renown which the young duke began soon to acquire.
William was at that time only about twenty-four years old, but he took
the direction of every thing--moved to and fro with the utmost
celerity--planned the campaigns--directed the sieges, and by his
personal accomplishments and his bravery, he won all hearts, and was the
subject of every body's praises. King Henry found himself supplanted,
in some measure, in the regard and honorable consideration of his
subjects, and he began to feel very envious and jealous of his rival.

Sometimes particular incidents would occur, in which William's feats
of prowess or dexterity would so excite the admiration of the army that
he would be overwhelmed with acclamations and applause. These were
generally exploits of combat on the field, or of escape from pursuers
when outnumbered, in which good fortune had often, perhaps, quite as
much to do in securing the result as strength or courage. But in those
days a soldier's good luck was perhaps as much the subject of applause
as his muscular force or his bravery; and, in fact, it was as deservedly
so; for the strength of arm, and the coolness, or, rather, the ferocity
of courage, which make a good combatant in personal contests on a
battle-field, are qualities of brutes rather than of men. We feel a
species of respect for them in the lion or tiger, but they deserve only
execration when exercised in the wantonness of hatred and revenge by man
against his brother man.

One of the instances of William's extraordinary success was the
following. He was reconnoitering the enemy on one occasion, accompanied
only by four or five knights, who acted as his attendants and
body-guard. The party were at a distance from the camp of the enemy, and
supposed they were not observed. They were observed, however, and
immediately a party of twelve chosen horsemen was formed, and ordered
to ride out and surprise them. This detachment concealed themselves in
an ambuscade, at a place where the reconnoitering party must pass, and
when the proper moment arrived, they burst out suddenly upon them and
summoned them to surrender. Twelve against six seemed to render both
flight and resistance equally vain. William, however, advanced
immediately to the attack of the ambuscaders. He poised his long lance,
and, riding on with it at full speed, he unhorsed and killed the
foremost of them at a blow. Then, just drawing back his weapon to gather
strength for another blow, he killed the second of his enemies in the
same manner. His followers were so much animated at this successful
onset, that they advanced very resolutely to the combat. In the mean
time, the shouts carried the alarm to William's camp, and a strong party
set off to rescue William and his companions. The others then turned to
fly, while William followed them so eagerly and closely, that he and
they who were with him overtook and disabled seven of them, and made
them prisoners. The rest escaped. William and his party then turned and
began to proceed toward their own camp, conveying their prisoners in
their train.

They were met by King Henry himself at the head of a detachment of three
hundred men, who, not knowing how much necessity there might be for
efficient aid, were hastening to the scene of action. The sight of
William coming home victorious, and the tales told by his companions of
the invincible strength and daring which he had displayed in the sudden
danger, awakened a universal enthusiasm, and the plaudits and encomiums
with which the whole camp resounded were doubtless as delicious and
intoxicating to him as they were bitter to the king.

It was by such deeds, and by such personal and mental characteristics as
these, that William, notwithstanding the untoward influences of his
birth, fought his way, during the twenty years of which we have been
speaking, into general favor, and established a universal renown. He
completely organized and arranged the internal affairs of his own
kingdom, and established himself firmly upon the ducal throne. His mind
had become mature, his resources were well developed, and his soul,
always ambitious and aspiring, began to reach forward to the grasping of
some grander objects of pursuit, and to the entering upon some wider
field of action than his duchy of Normandy could afford. During this
interval, however, he was married; and, as the circumstances of his
marriage were somewhat extraordinary, we must make that event the
subject of a separate chapter.




CHAPTER V.

THE MARRIAGE.

A.D. 1045-1052

Political importance of a royal marriage.--William's views in regard
to his marriage.--His choice.--Matilda's genealogy.--Her relationship
to William.--Matilda's accomplishments.--Her embroidery.--Matilda's
industry.--The Bayeux tapestry.--The designs.--Uncouth
drawing.--Preservation.--Elements of decay.--Great age of the Bayeux
tapestry.--Specimens of the designs of the Bayeux tapestry.--Marriage
negotiations.--Matilda's objections.--Matilda's refusal.--Her attachment
to Brihtric.--Matilda's attachment not reciprocated.--Her thirst for
revenge.--William and Matilda's consanguinity.--An obstacle to their
marriage.--Negotiations with the pope.--Causes of delay.--William's
quarrel with Matilda.--The reconciliation.--The marriage.--Rejoicings
and festivities.--Residence at Rouen.--Ancient castles and
palaces.--Matilda's palace.--Luxury and splendor.--Mauger, archbishop of
Rouen.--William and Matilda excommunicated.--Lanfranc sent to negotiate
with the pope.--His success.--Conditions of Lanfranc's treaty.--Their
fulfillment.--William and Matilda's children.--Matilda's domestic
character.--Objects of William's marriage.--Baldwin, Count of
Flanders.--The blank letter.--Baldwin's surprise.


One of the most important points which an hereditary potentate has to
attend to, in completing his political arrangements, is the question of
his marriage. Until he has a family and an heir, men's minds are
unsettled in respect to the succession, and the various rival candidates
and claimants to the throne are perpetually plotting and intriguing to
put themselves into a position to spring at once into his place if
sickness, or a battle, or any sudden accident should take him away. This
evil was more formidable than usual in the case of William, for the men
who were prepared to claim his place when he was dead were all secretly
or openly maintaining that their right to it was superior to his while
he was living. This gave a double intensity to the excitement with which
the public was perpetually agitated in respect to the crown, and kept
the minds of the ambitious and the aspiring, throughout William's
dominions, in a continual fever. It was obvious that a great part of
the cause of this restless looking for change and consequent planning to
promote it would be removed if William had a son.

It became, therefore, an important matter of state policy that the duke
should be married. In fact, the barons and military chieftains who were
friendly to him urged this measure upon him, on account of the great
effect which they perceived it would have in settling the minds of the
people of the country and consolidating his power. William accordingly
began to look around for a wife. It appeared, however, in the end, that,
though policy was the main consideration which first led him to
contemplate marriage, love very probably exercised an important
influence in determining his choice of the lady; at all events, the
object of his choice was an object worthy of love. She was one of the
most beautiful and accomplished princesses in Europe.

She was the daughter of a great potentate who ruled over the country of
Flanders. Flanders lies upon the coast, east of Normandy, beyond the
frontiers of France, and on the southern shore of the German Ocean. Her
father's title was the Earl of Flanders. He governed his dominions,
however, like a sovereign, and was at the head of a very effective
military power. His family, too, occupied a very high rank, and enjoyed
great consideration among the other princes and potentates of Europe. It
had intermarried with the royal family of England, so that Matilda, the
daughter of the earl, whom William was disposed to make his bride, was
found, by the genealogists, who took great interest in those days in
tracing such connections, to have descended in a direct line from the
great English king, Alfred himself.

This relationship, by making Matilda's birth the more illustrious,
operated strongly in favor of the match, as a great part of the motive
which William had in view, in his intended marriage, was to aggrandize
and strengthen his own position, by the connection which he was about to
form. There was, however, another consanguinity in the case which had a
contrary tendency. Matilda's father had been connected with the Norman
as well as with the English line, and Matilda and William were in some
remote sense cousins. This circumstance led, in the sequel, as will
presently be seen, to serious difficulty and trouble.

Matilda was seven years younger than William. She was brought up
in her father's court, and famed far and wide for her beauty and
accomplishments. The accomplishments in which ladies of high rank sought
to distinguish themselves in those days were two, music and embroidery.
The embroidery of tapestry was the great attainment, and in this art the
young Matilda acquired great skill. The tapestry which was made in the
Middle Ages was used to hang against the walls of some of the more
ornamented rooms in royal palaces and castles, to hide the naked surface
of the stones of which the building was constructed. The cloths thus
suspended were at first plain, afterward they began to be ornamented
with embroidered borders or other decorations, and at length ladies
learned to employ their own leisure hours, and beguile the tedium of the
long confinement which many of them had to endure within their castles,
in embroidering various devices and designs on the hangings intended for
their own chambers, or to execute such work as presents for their
friends. Matilda's industry and skill in this kind of work were
celebrated far and wide.

The accomplishments which ladies take great pains to acquire in their
early years are sometimes, it is said, laid almost entirely aside after
their marriage; not necessarily because they are then less desirous to
please, but sometimes from the abundance of domestic duty, which allows
them little time, and sometimes from the pressure of their burdens of
care or sorrow, which leave them no heart for the occupations of
amusement or gayety. It seems not to have been so in Matilda's case,
however. She resumed her needle often during the years of her wedded
life, and after William had accomplished his conquest of England, she
worked upon a long linen web, with immense labor, a series of designs
illustrating the various events and incidents of his campaign, and the
work has been preserved to the present day.

At least there is such a web now existing in the ancient town of Bayeux,
in Normandy, which has been there from a period beyond the memory of
men, and which tradition says was worked by Matilda. It would seem,
however, that if she did it at all, she must have done it "as Solomon
built the temple--with a great deal of help;" for this famous piece of
embroidery, which has been celebrated among all the historians and
scholars of the world for several hundred years by the name of the
_Bayeux Tapestry_, is over four hundred feet long, and nearly two feet
wide. The wet is of linen, while the embroidery is of woolen. It was all
obviously executed with the needle, and was worked with infinite labor
and care. The woolen thread which was used was of various colors, suited
to represent the different objects in the design, though these colors
are, of course, now much tarnished and faded.

The designs themselves are very simple and even rude, evincing very
little knowledge of the principles of modern art. The specimens on the
following page, of engravings made from them, will give some idea of the
childish style of delineation which characterizes all Matilda's designs.
Childish, however, as such a style of drawing would be considered now,
it seems to have been, in Matilda's days, very much praised and admired.

[Illustration: PLOWING. From the Bayeux tapestry.]

[Illustration: SOWING. From the Bayeux tapestry.]

We often have occasion to observe, in watching the course of human
affairs, the frailty and transitoriness of things apparently most
durable and strong. In the case of this embroidery, on the contrary, we
are struck with the durability and permanence of what would seem to be
most frail and fleeting. William's conquest of England took place in
1066. This piece of tapestry, therefore, if Matilda really worked it,
is about eight hundred years old. And when we consider how delicate,
slender, and frail is the fibre of a linen thread, and that the various
elements of decay, always busy in the work of corrupting and destroying
the works of man, have proved themselves powerful enough to waste away
and crumble into ruin the proudest structures which he has ever
attempted to rear, we are amazed that these slender filaments have been
able to resist their action so long. The Bayeux tapestry has lasted
nearly a thousand years. It will probably last for a thousand years to
come. So that the vast and resistless power, which destroyed Babylon and
Troy, and is making visible progress in the work of destroying the
Pyramids, is foiled by the durability of a piece of needle-work,
executed by the frail and delicate fingers of a woman.

We may have occasion to advert to the Bayeux tapestry again, when we
come to narrate the exploits which it was the particular object of this
historical embroidery to illustrate and adorn. In the mean time, we
return to our story.

The matrimonial negotiations of princes and princesses are always
conducted in a formal and ceremonious manner, and through the
intervention of legates, embassadors, and commissioners without number,
who are, of course, interested in protracting the proceedings, so as to
prolong, as much as possible, their own diplomatic importance and power.
Besides these accidental and temporary difficulties, it soon appeared
that there were, in this case, some real and very formidable obstacles,
which threatened for a time entirely to frustrate the scheme.

Among these difficulties there was one which was not usually, in such
cases, considered of much importance, but which, in this instance,
seemed for a long time to put an effectual bar to William's wishes, and
that was the aversion which the young princess herself felt for the
match. She could have, one would suppose, no personal feeling of
repugnance against William, for he was a tall and handsome cavalier,
highly graceful and accomplished, and renowned for his bravery and
success in war. He was, in every respect, such a personage as would be
most likely to captivate the imagination of a maiden princess in those
warlike times. Matilda, however, made objections to his birth. She could
not consider him as the legitimate descendant and heir of the dukes of
Normandy. It is true, he was then in possession of the throne, but he
was regarded by a large portion of the most powerful chieftains in his
realm as a usurper. He was liable, at any time, on some sudden change of
fortune, to be expelled from his dominions. His position, in a word,
though for the time being very exalted, was too precarious and unstable,
and his personal claims to high social rank were too equivocal, to
justify her trusting her destiny in his hands. In a word, Matilda's
answer to William's proposals was an absolute refusal to become his
wife.

These ostensible grounds, however, on which Matilda based her refusal,
plausible as they were, were not the real and true ones. The secret
motive was another attachment which she had formed. There had been sent
to her father's court in Flanders, from the English king, a young Saxon
embassador, whose name was Brihtric. Brihtric remained some little time
at the court in Flanders, and Matilda, who saw him often at the various
entertainments, celebrations, and parties of pleasure which were
arranged for his amusement, conceived a strong attachment to him. He was
of a very fair complexion, and his features were expressive and
beautiful. He was a noble of high position in England, though, of
course, his rank was inferior to that of Matilda. As it would have been
deemed hardly proper for him, under the circumstances of the case, to
have aspired to the princess's hand, on account of the superiority of
her social position, Matilda felt that it was her duty to make known her
sentiments to him, and thus to open the way. She did so; but she found,
unhappy maiden, that Brihtric did not feel, himself, the love which he
had inspired in her, and all the efforts and arts to which she was
impelled by the instinct of affection proved wholly unavailing to call
it forth. Brihtric, after fulfilling the object of his mission, took
leave of Matilda coldly, while _her_ heart was almost breaking, and went
away.

As the sweetest wine transforms itself into the sharpest vinegar, so the
warmest and most ardent love turns, when it turns at all, to the most
bitter and envenomed hate. Love gave place soon in Matilda's heart to
indignation, and indignation to a burning thirst for revenge. The
intensity of the first excitement subsided; but Matilda never forgot and
never forgave the disappointment and the indignity which she had
endured. She had an opportunity long afterward to take terrible revenge
on Brihtric in England, by subjecting him to cruelties and hardships
there which brought him to his grave.

In the mean time, while her thoughts were so occupied with this
attachment, she had, of course, no heart to listen favorably to
William's proposals. Her friends would have attached no importance to
the real cause of her aversion to the match, but they felt the force of
the objections which could justly be advanced against William's rank,
and his real right to his throne. Then the consanguinity of the parties
was a great source of embarrassment and trouble. Persons as nearly
related to each other as they were, were forbidden by the Roman Catholic
rules to marry. There was such a thing as getting a dispensation from
the pope, by which the marriage would be authorized. William accordingly
sent embassadors to Rome to negotiate this business. This, of course,
opened a new field for difficulties and delays.

The papal authorities were accustomed, in such cases, to exact as the
price, or, rather, as the condition of their dispensation, some grant or
beneficial conveyance from the parties interested, to the Church, such
as the foundation of an abbey or a monastery, the building of a chapel,
or the endowment of a charity, by way as it were, of making amends to
the Church, by the benefit thus received, for whatever injury the cause
of religion and morality might sustain by the relaxation of a divine
law. Of course, this being the end in view, the tendency on the part of
the authorities at Rome would be to protract the negotiations, so as
to obtain from the suitor's impatience better terms in the end. The
embassadors and commissioners, too, on William's part, would have no
strong motive for hastening the proceedings. Rome was an agreeable
place of residence, and to live there as the embassador of a royal duke
of Normandy was to enjoy a high degree of consideration, and to be
surrounded continually by scenes of magnificence and splendor. Then,
again, William himself was not always at leisure to urge the business
forward by giving it his own close attention; for, during the period
while these negotiations were pending, he was occupied, from time to
time, with foreign wars, or in the suppression of rebellions among his
barons. Thus, from one cause and another, it seemed as if the business
would never come to an end.

In fact, a less resolute and determined man than William would have
given up in despair, for it was seven years, it is said, before the
affair was brought to a conclusion. One story is told of the impetuous
energy which William manifested in this suit, which seems almost
incredible.

It was after the negotiations had been protracted for several years,
and at a time when the difficulties were principally those arising
from Matilda's opposition, that the occurrence took place. It was at
an interview which William had with Matilda in the streets of Bruges,
one of her father's cities. All that took place at the interview is not
known, but in the end of it William's resentment at Matilda's treatment
of him lost all bounds. He struck her or pushed her so violently as
to throw her down upon the ground. It is said that he struck her
repeatedly, and then, leaving her with her clothes all soiled and
disheveled, rode off in a rage. Love quarrels are often the means of
bringing the contending parties nearer together than they were before,
but such a terrible love quarrel as this, we hope, is very rare.

Violent as it was, however, it was followed by a perfect reconciliation,
and in the end all obstacles were removed, and William and Matilda were
married. The event took place in 1052.

The marriage ceremony was performed at one of William's castles, on the
frontiers of Normandy, as it is customary for princes and kings to be
married always in their own dominions. Matilda was conducted there with
great pomp and parade by her parents, and was accompanied by a large
train of attendants and friends. This company, mounted--both knights and
ladies--on horses beautifully caparisoned, moved across the country like
a little army on a march, or rather like a triumphal procession
escorting a queen. Matilda was received at the castle with distinguished
honor, and the marriage celebrations, and the entertainments
accompanying it, were continued for several days. It was a scene of
unusual festivity and rejoicing.

The dress both of William and Matilda, on this occasion, was very
specially splendid. She wore a mantle studded with the most costly
jewels; and, in addition to the other splendors of his dress, William
too wore a mantle and a helmet, both of which were richly adorned with
the same costly decorations. So much importance was attached, in those
days, to this outward show, and so great was the public interest taken
in it, that these dresses of William and Matilda, with all the jewelry
that adorned them, were deposited afterward in the great church at
Bayeux, where they remained a sort of public spectacle, the property of
the Church, for nearly five hundred years.

From the castle of Augi, where the marriage ceremonies were performed,
William proceeded, after these first festivities and rejoicings were
over, to the great city of Rouen, conducting his bride thither with
great pomp and parade. Here the young couple established themselves,
living in the enjoyment of every species of luxury and splendor which
were attainable in those days. As has already been said, the interiors,
even of royal castles and palaces, presented but few of the comforts and
conveniences deemed essential to the happiness of a home in modern
times. The European ladies of the present day delight in their suites of
retired and well-furnished apartments, adorned with velvet carpets, and
silken curtains, and luxuriant beds of down, with sofas and couches
adapted to every fancy which the caprice of fatigue or restlessness may
assume, and cabinets stored with treasures, and libraries of embellished
books--the whole scene illuminated by the splendor of gas-lights, whose
brilliancy is reflected by mirrors and candelabras, sparkling with a
thousand hues. Matilda's feudal palace presented no such scenes as
these. The cold stone floors were covered with mats of rushes. The
walls--if the naked masonry was hidden at all--were screened by hangings
of coarse tapestry, ornamented with uncouth and hideous figures. The
beds were miserable pallets, the windows were loop-holes, and the castle
itself had all the architectural characteristics of a prison.

Still, there was a species of luxury and splendor even then. Matilda had
splendid horses to ride, all magnificently caparisoned. She had dresses
adorned most lavishly with gold and jewels. There were troops of valiant
knights, all glittering in armor of steel, to escort her on her
journeys, and accompany and wait upon her on her excursions of pleasure;
and there were grand banquets and carousals, from time to time, in the
long castle hall, with tournaments, and races, and games, and other
military shows, conducted with great parade and pageantry. Matilda thus
commenced her married life in luxury and splendor.

In luxury and splendor, but not in peace. William had an uncle, whose
name was Mauger. He was the Archbishop of Rouen, and was a dignitary
of great influence and power. Now it was, of course, the interest of
William's relatives that he should not be married, as every increase of
probability that his crown would descend to direct heirs diminished
their future chances of the succession, and of course undermined their
present importance. Mauger had been very much opposed to this match,
and had exerted himself in every way, while the negotiations were
pending, to impede and delay them. The point which he most strenuously
urged was the consanguinity of the parties, a point to which it was
incumbent on him, as he maintained--being the head of the Church in
Normandy--particularly to attend. It seems that, notwithstanding
William's negotiations with the pope to obtain a dispensation, the
affair was not fully settled at Rome before the marriage; and very soon
after the celebration of the nuptials, Mauger fulminated an edict of
excommunication against both William and Matilda, for intermarrying
within the degrees of relationship which the canons of the Church
proscribed.

An excommunication, in the Middle Ages, was a terrible calamity. The
person thus condemned was made, so far as such a sentence could effect
it, an outcast from man, and a wretch accursed of Heaven. The most
terrible denunciations were uttered against him, and in the case of a
prince, like that of William, his subjects were all absolved from their
allegiance, and forbidden to succor or defend him. A powerful potentate
like William could maintain himself for a time against the influence and
effects of such a course, but it was pretty sure to work more and more
strongly against him through the superstitions of the people, and to
wear him out in the end.

William resolved to appeal at once to the pope, and to effect, by some
means or other, the object of securing his dispensation. There was a
certain monk, then obscure and unknown, but who afterward became a very
celebrated public character, named Lanfranc, whom, for some reason or
other, William supposed to possess the necessary qualifications for this
mission. He accordingly gave him his instructions and sent him away.
Lanfranc proceeded to Rome, and there he managed the negotiation with
the pope so dexterously as soon to bring it to a conclusion.

The arrangement which he made was this. The pope was to grant the
dispensation and confirm the marriage, thus removing the sentence of
excommunication which the Archbishop Mauger had pronounced, on
condition that William should build and endow a hospital for a hundred
poor persons, and also erect two abbeys, one to be built by himself, for
monks, and one by Matilda, for nuns. Lanfranc agreed to these conditions
on the part of William and Matilda, and they, when they came to be
informed of them, accepted and confirmed them with great joy. The ban of
excommunication was removed; all Normandy acquiesced in the marriage,
and William and Matilda proceeded to form the plans and to superintend
the construction of the abbeys.

They selected the city of Caen for the site. The place of this city will
be seen marked upon the map near the northern coast of Normandy.[G] It
was situated in a broad and pleasant valley, at the confluence of two
rivers, and was surrounded by beautiful and fertile meadows. It was
strongly fortified, being surrounded by walls and towers, which
William's ancestors, the dukes of Normandy, had built. William and
Matilda took a strong interest in the plans and constructions connected
with the building of the abbeys. William's was a very extensive edifice,
and contained within its inclosures a royal palace for himself, where,
in subsequent years, himself and Matilda often resided.

[Footnote G: See map, chapter ix.]

The principal buildings of these abbeys still stand, though the walls
and fortifications of Caen are gone. The buildings are used now for
other purposes than those for which they were erected, but they retain
the names originally given them, and are visited by great numbers of
tourists, being regarded with great interest as singular memorials of
the past--twin monuments commemorating an ancient marriage.

The marriage being thus finally confirmed and acquiesced in, William and
Matilda enjoyed a long period of domestic peace. The oldest child was a
son. He was born within a year of the marriage, and William named him
Robert, that, as the reader will recollect, having been the name of
William's father. There was, in process of time, a large family of
children. Their names were Robert, William Rufus, Henry, Cecilia,
Agatha, Constance, Adela, Adelaide, and Gundred. Matilda devoted herself
with great maternal fidelity to the care and education of these
children, and many of them became subsequently historical personages of
the highest distinction.

The object which, it will be recollected, was one of William's main
inducements for contracting this alliance, namely, the strengthening of
his power by thus connecting himself with the reigning family of
Flanders, was, in a great measure, accomplished. The two governments,
leagued together by this natural tie, strengthened each other's power,
and often rendered each other essential assistance, though there was one
occasion, subsequently, when William's reliance on this aid was
disappointed. It was as follows:

When he was planning his invasion of England, he sent to Matilda's
brother, Baldwin, who was then Count of Flanders, inviting him to raise
a force and join him. Baldwin, who considered the enterprise as
dangerous and Quixotic, sent back word to inquire what share of the
English territory William would give him if he would go and help him
conquer it. William thought that this attempt to make a bargain
beforehand, for a division of spoil, evinced a very mercenary and
distrustful spirit on the part of his brother-in-law--a spirit which he
was not at all disposed to encourage. He accordingly took a sheet of
parchment, and writing nothing within, he folded it in the form of a
letter, and wrote upon the outside the following rhyme:

     "Beau frere, en Angleterre vous aures
     Ce qui dedans escript, vous trouveres."

Which royal distich might be translated thus:

     "Your share, good brother, of the land we win,
     You'll find entitled and described within."

William forwarded the empty missive by the hand of a messenger, who
delivered it to Baldwin as if it were a dispatch of great consequence.
Baldwin received it eagerly, and opened it at once. He was surprised at
finding nothing within; and after turning the parchment every way, in
vain search after the description of his share, he asked the messenger
what it meant. "It means," said he, "that as there is nothing writ
within, so nothing you shall have."

Notwithstanding this witticism, however, some arrangement seems
afterward to have been made between the parties, for Flanders did, in
fact, contribute an important share toward the force which William
raised when preparing for the invasion.




CHAPTER VI.

THE LADY EMMA.

A.D. 1002-1052

William's claims to the English throne.--The Lady Emma.--Claimants
to the English throne.--Ethelred.--Ethelred subdued.--He flies to
Normandy.--Massacre of the Danes.--Horrors of civil war.--Ethelred's
tyranny.--Emma's policy.--Emma's humiliation.--Ethelred invited to
return.--Restoration of Ethelred and Emma.--War with Canute.--Ethelred's
death.--Situation of Emma.--Her children.--War with Canute.--Treaty
between Edmund and Canute.--Death of Edmund.--Accession of
Canute.--Canute's wise policy.--His treatment of Edmund's
children.--Canute marries Emma.--Opposition of her sons.--Emma again
queen of England.--The Earl Godwin.--Canute's death.--He bequeaths
the kingdom to Harold.--Emma's plots for her children.--Her
letter to them.--Disastrous issue of Alfred's expedition.--His
terrible sentence.--Edward's accession.--Emma wretched and
miserable.--Accusations against Emma.--Her wretched end.--Edmund's
children.--Godwin.--Harold.--Plans of Edward.--Plots and counterplots.


It is not to be supposed that, even in the warlike times of which we are
writing, such a potentate as a duke of Normandy would invade a country
like England, so large and powerful in comparison to his own, without
some pretext. William's pretext was, that he himself was the legitimate
successor to the English crown, and that the English king who possessed
it at the time of his invasion was a usurper. In order that the reader
may understand the nature and origin of this his claim, it is necessary
to relate somewhat in full the story of the Lady Emma.

By referring to the genealogy of the Norman line of dukes contained in
the second chapter of this volume, it will be seen that Emma was the
daughter of the first Richard. She was celebrated in her early years for
her great personal beauty. They called her _the Pearl of Normandy_.

She married, at length, one of the kings of England, whose name was
Ethelred. England was at that time distracted by civil wars, waged
between the two antagonist races of Saxons and Danes. There were, in
fact, two separate dynasties or lines of kings, who were contending, all
the time, for the mastery. In these contests, sometimes the Danes would
triumph for a time, and sometimes the Saxons; and sometimes both races
would have a royal representative in the field, each claiming the
throne, and reigning over separate portions of the island. Thus there
were, at certain periods, two kingdoms in England, both covering the
same territory, and claiming the government of the same population--with
two kings, two capitals, two administrations--while the wretched
inhabitants were distracted and ruined by the terrible conflicts to
which these hostile pretensions gave rise.

Ethelred was of the Saxon line. He was a widower at the time of his
marriage to Emma, nearly forty years old, and he had, among other
children by his former wife, a son named Edmund, an active, energetic
young man, who afterward became king. One motive which he had in view in
marrying Emma was to strengthen his position by securing the alliance of
the Normans of Normandy. The Danes, his English enemies, were Normans.
The government of Normandy would therefore be naturally inclined to
take part with them. By this marriage, however, Ethelred hoped to detach
the Normans of France from the cause of his enemies, and to unite them
to his own. He would thus gain a double advantage, strengthening himself
by an accession which weakened his foes.

His plan succeeded so far as inducing Richard himself, the Duke of
Normandy, to espouse his cause, but it did not enable Ethelred to
triumph over his enemies. They, on the contrary, conquered _him_, and,
in the end, drove him from the country altogether. He fled to Normandy
for refuge, with Emma his wife, and his two young sons. Their names were
Edward and Alfred.

Richard II., Emma's brother, who was then the Duke of Normandy, received
the unhappy fugitives with great kindness, although _he_, at least,
scarcely deserved it. It was not surprising that he was driven from his
native realm, for he possessed none of those high qualities of mind
which fit men to conquer or to govern. Like all other weak-minded
tyrants, he substituted cruelty for wisdom and energy in his attempts to
subjugate his foes. As soon as he was married to Emma, for instance,
feeling elated and strong at the great accession of power which he
imagined he had obtained by this alliance, he planned a general massacre
of the Danes, and executed it on a given day, by means of private
orders, sent secretly throughout the kingdom. Vast numbers of the Danes
were destroyed; and so great was the hatred of the two races for each
other, that they who had these bloody orders to obey executed them with
a savage cruelty that was absolutely horrible. In one instance they
buried women to the waist, and then set dogs upon them, to tear their
naked flesh until they died in agony. It would be best, in narrating
history, to suppress such horrid details as these, were it not that in
a land like this, where so much depends upon the influence of every
individual in determining whether the questions and discussions which
are from time to time arising, and are hereafter to arise, shall be
settled peacefully, or by a resort to violence and civil war, it is very
important that we should all know what civil war is, and to what
horrible atrocities it inevitably leads.

Alfred the Great, when he was contending with the Danes in England, a
century before this time, treated them, so far as he gained advantages
over them, with generosity and kindness; and this policy wholly
conquered them in the end. Ethelred, on the other hand, tried the
effect of the most tyrannical cruelty, and the effect was only to arouse
his enemies to a more determined and desperate resistance. It was the
phrensy of vengeance and hate that these atrocities awakened every where
among the Danes, which nerved them with so much vigor and strength that
they finally expelled him from the island; so that, when he arrived in
Normandy, a fugitive and an exile, he came in the character of a
dethroned tyrant, execrated for his senseless and atrocious cruelties,
and not in that of an unhappy prince driven from his home by the
pressure of unavoidable calamity. Nevertheless, Richard, the Duke of
Normandy, received him, as we have already said, with kindness. He felt
the obligation of receiving the exiled monarch in a hospitable manner,
if not on his own account, at least for the sake of Emma and the
children.

The origin and end of Emma's interest in Ethelred seems to have been
merely ambition. The "Pearl of Normandy" had given herself to this
monster for the sake, apparently, of the glory of being the English
queen. Her subsequent conduct compels the readers of history to make
this supposition, which otherwise would be uncharitable. She now
mourned her disappointment in finding that, instead of being sustained
by her husband in the lofty position to which she aspired, she was
obliged to come back to her former home again, to be once more
dependent, and with the additional burden of her husband himself, and
her children, upon her father's family. Her situation was rendered even
still more humiliating, in some degree, by the circumstances that her
father was no longer alive, and that it was to her brother, on whom her
natural claim was far less strong, that she had now to look for shelter
and protection. Richard, however, received them all in a kind and
generous manner.

In the mean time, the wars and commotions which had driven Ethelred
away continued to rage in England, the Saxons gradually gaining
ground against the Danes. At length the king of the Danes, who had
seized the government when Ethelred was expelled, died. The Saxons then
regained their former power, and they sent commissioners to Ethelred to
propose his return to England. At the same time, they expressed their
unwillingness to receive him, unless they could bind him, by a solemn
treaty, to take a very different course of conduct, in the future
management of his government, from that which he had pursued before.
Ethelred and Emma were eager to regain, on any terms, their lost throne.
They sent over embassadors empowered to make, in Ethelred's name, any
promises which the English nobles might demand; and shortly afterward
the royal pair crossed the Channel and went to London, and Ethelred was
acknowledged there by the _Saxon_ portion of the population of the
island once more as king.

The _Danes_, however, though weakened, were not yet disposed to submit.
They declared their allegiance to _Canute_, who was the successor in the
_Danish_ line. Then followed a long war between Canute and Ethelred.
Canute was a man of extraordinary sagacity and intelligence, and also of
great courage and energy. Ethelred, on the other hand, proved himself,
notwithstanding all his promises, incurably inefficient, cowardly, and
cruel. In fact, his son Prince Edmund, the son of his first wife, was
far more efficient than his father in resisting Canute and the Danes.
Edmund was active and fearless, and he soon acquired very extensive
power. In fact, he seems to have held the authority of his father in
very little respect. One striking instance of this insubordination
occurred. Ethelred had taken offense, for some reason or other, at one
of the nobles in his realm, and had put him to death, and confiscated
his estates; and, in addition to this, with a cruelty characteristic of
him, he shut up the unhappy widow of his victim, a young and beautiful
woman, in a gloomy convent, as a prisoner. Edmund, his son, went to the
convent, liberated the prisoner, and made her his own wife.

[Illustration: THE RESCUE.]

With such unfriendly relations between the king and his son, who seems
to have been the ablest general in his father's army, there could be
little hope of making head against such an enemy as Canute the Dane.
In fact, the course of public affairs went on from bad to worse, Emma
leading all the time a life of unceasing anxiety and alarm. At length,
in 1016, Ethelred died, and Emma's cup of disappointment and humiliation
was now full. Her own sons, Edward and Alfred, had no claims to the
crown; for Edmund, being the son by a former marriage, was older than
they. They were too young to take personally an active part in the
fierce contests of the day, and thus fight their way to importance and
power. And then Edmund, who was now to become king, would, of course,
feel no interest in advancing _them_, or doing honor to _her_. A son
who would thwart and counteract the plans and measures of a father, as
Edmund had done, would be little likely to evince much deference or
regard for a mother-in-law, or for half brothers, whom he would
naturally consider as his rivals. In a word, Emma had reason to be
alarmed at the situation of insignificance and danger in which she found
herself suddenly placed. She fled a second time, in destitution and
distress, to her brother's in Normandy. She was now, however, a widow,
and her children were fatherless. It is difficult to decide whether to
consider her situation as better or worse on this account, than it was
at her former exile.

Her sons were lads, but little advanced beyond the period of childhood;
and Edward, the eldest, on whom the duty of making exertions to advance
the family interests would first devolve, was of a quiet and gentle
spirit, giving little promise that he would soon be disposed to enter
vigorously upon military campaigns. Edmund, on the other hand, who was
now king, was in the prime of life, and was a man of great spirit and
energy. There was a reasonable prospect that he would live many years;
and even if he were to be suddenly cut off, there seemed to be no hope
of the restoration of Emma to importance or power; for Edmund was
married and had two sons, one of whom would be entitled to succeed him
in case of his decease. It seemed, therefore, to be Emma's destiny now,
to spend the remainder of her days with her children in neglect and
obscurity. The case resulted differently, however, as we shall see in
the end.

Edmund, notwithstanding his prospect of a long and prosperous career,
was cut off suddenly, after a stormy reign of one year. During his
reign, Canute the Dane had been fast gaining ground in England,
notwithstanding the vigor and energy with which Edmund had opposed him.
Finally, the two monarchs assembled their armies, and were about to
fight a great final battle. Edmund sent a flag of truce to Canute's
camp, proposing that, to save the effusion of blood, they should agree
to decide the case by single combat, and that he and Canute should be
the champions, and fight in presence of the armies. Canute declined this
proposal. He was himself small and slender in form, while Edmund was
distinguished for his personal development and muscular strength. Canute
therefore declined the personal contest, but offered to leave the
question to the decision of a council chosen from among the leading
nobles on either side. This plan was finally adopted. The council
convened, and, after long deliberations, they framed a treaty by which
the country was divided between the two potentates, and a sort of peace
was restored. A very short period after this treaty was settled, Edmund
was murdered.

Canute immediately laid claim to the whole realm. He maintained that
it was a part of the treaty that the partition of the kingdom was to
continue only during their joint lives, and that, on the death of
either, the whole was to pass to the survivor of them. The Saxon leaders
did not admit this, but they were in no condition very strenuously to
oppose it. Ethelred's sons by Emma were too young to come forward as
leaders yet; and as to Edmund's, they were mere children. There was,
therefore, no one whom they could produce as an efficient representative
of the Saxon line, and thus the Saxons were compelled to submit to
Canute's pretensions, at least for a time. They would not wholly give up
the claims of Edmund's children, but they consented to waive them for a
season. They gave Canute the guardianship of the boys until they should
become of age, and allowed him, in the mean time, to reign, himself,
over the whole land.

Canute exercised his power in a very discreet and judicious manner,
seeming intent, in all his arrangements, to protect the rights and
interests of the Saxons as well as of the Danes. It might be supposed
that the lives of the young Saxon princes, Edmund's sons, would not have
been safe in his hands; but the policy which he immediately resolved to
pursue was to conciliate the Saxons, and not to intimidate and coerce
them. He therefore did the young children no harm, but sent them away
out of the country to Denmark, that they might, if possible, be
gradually forgotten. Perhaps he thought that, if the necessity should
arise for it, they might there, at any time, be put secretly to death.

There was another reason still to prevent Canute's destroying these
children, which was, that if _they_ were removed, the claims of the
Saxon line would not thereby be extinguished, but would only be
transferred to Emma's children in Normandy, who, being older, were
likely the sooner to be in a condition to give him trouble as rivals. It
was therefore a very wise and sagacious policy which prompted him to
keep the young children of Edmund alive, but to remove them to a safe
distance out of the way.

In respect to Emma's children, Canute conceived a different plan for
guarding against any danger which came from their claims, and that was,
to propose to take their mother for his wife. By this plan her family
would come into his power, and then her own influence and that of her
Norman friends would be forever prevented from taking sides against him.
He accordingly made the proposal. Emma was ambitious enough of again
returning to her former position of greatness as English queen to accept
it eagerly. The world condemned her for being so ready to marry, for her
second husband, the deadly enemy and rival of the first; but it was all
one to her whether her husband was Saxon or Dane, provided that she
could be queen.

The boys, or, rather, the young men, for they were now advancing to
maturity, were very strongly opposed to this connection. They did all in
their power to prevent its consummation, and they never forgave their
mother for thus basely betraying their interests. They were the more
incensed at this transaction, because it was stipulated in the marriage
articles between Canute and Emma that their _future_ children--the
offspring of the marriage then contracted--should succeed to the throne
of England, to the exclusion of all previously born on either side. Thus
Canute fancied that he had secured his title, and that of his
descendants, to the crown forever, and Emma prepared to return to
England as once more its queen. The marriage was celebrated with great
pomp and splendor, and Emma, bidding Normandy and her now alienated
children farewell, was conducted in state to the royal palace in London.

We must now pass over, with a very few words, a long interval of twenty
years. It was the period of Canute's reign, which was prosperous and
peaceful. During this period Emma's Norman sons continued in Normandy.
She had another son in England a few years after her marriage, who was
named Canute, after his father, but he is generally known in history by
the name of Hardicanute, the prefix being a Saxon word denoting
energetic or strong. Canute had also a very celebrated minister in his
government named Godwin. Godwin was a Saxon of a very humble origin, and
the history of his life constitutes quite a romantic tale.[H] He was a
man of extraordinary talents and character, and at the time of Canute's
death he was altogether the most powerful subject in the realm.

[Footnote H: It is given at length in the last chapter of our history of
Alfred the Great.]

When Canute found that he was about to die, and began to consider what
arrangements he should make for the succession, he concluded that it
would not be safe for him to fulfill the agreement made in his marriage
contract with Emma, that the children of that marriage should inherit
the kingdom; for Hardicanute, who was entitled to succeed under that
covenant, was only about sixteen or seventeen years old, and
consequently too young to attempt to govern. He therefore made a will,
in which he left the kingdom to an older son, named Harold--a son whom
he had had before his marriage with Emma. This was the signal for a new
struggle. The influence of the Saxons and of Emma's friends was of
course in favor of Hardicanute, while the Danes espoused the cause of
Harold. Godwin at length taking sides with this last-named party, Harold
was established on the throne, and Emma and all her children, whether
descended from Ethelred or Canute, were set aside and forgotten.

Emma was not at all disposed to acquiesce in this change of fortune.
She remained in England, but was secretly incensed at her second
husband's breach of faith toward her; and as he had abandoned the child
of his marriage with her for _his_ former children, she now determined
to abandon him for _hers_. She gave up Hardicanute's cause, therefore,
and began secretly to plot among the Saxon population for bringing
forward her son Edward to the throne. When she thought that things were
ripe for the execution of the plot, she wrote a letter to her children
in Normandy, saying to them that the Saxon population were weary of the
Danish line, and were ready, she believed, to rise in behalf of the
ancient Saxon line, if the true representative of it would appear to
lead them. She therefore invited them to come to London and consult with
her on the subject. She directed them, however, to come, if they came at
all, in a quiet and peaceful manner, and without any appearance of
hostile intent, inasmuch as any thing which might seem like a foreign
invasion would awaken universal jealousy and alarm.

When this letter was received by the brothers in Normandy, the eldest,
Edward, declined to go, but gave his consent that Alfred should
undertake the expedition if he were disposed. Alfred accepted the
proposal. In fact, the temperament and character of the two brothers
were very different. Edward was sedate, serious, and timid. Alfred was
ardent and aspiring. The younger, therefore, decided to take the risk of
crossing the Channel, while the elder preferred to remain at home.

The result was very disastrous. Contrary to his mother's instructions,
Alfred took with him quite a troop of Norman soldiers. He crossed the
Channel in safety, and advanced across the country some distance toward
London. Harold sent out a force to intercept him. He was surrounded, and
he himself and all his followers were taken prisoners. He was sentenced
to lose his eyes, and he died in a few days after the execution of this
terrible sentence, from the mingled effects of fever and of mental
anguish and despair. Emma fled to Flanders.

Finally Harold died, and Hardicanute succeeded him. In a short time
Hardicanute died, leaving no heirs, and now, of course, there was no one
left[I] to compete with Emma's oldest son Edward, who had remained all
this time quietly in Normandy. He was accordingly proclaimed king. This
was in 1041. He reigned for twenty years, having commenced his reign
about the time that William the Conqueror was established in the
possession of his dominions as Duke of Normandy. Edward had known
William intimately during his long residence in Normandy, and William
came to visit him in England in the course of his reign. William, in
fact, considered himself as Edward's heir; for as Edward, though
married, had no children, the dukes of the Norman line were his nearest
relatives. He obtained, he said, a promise from Edward that Edward would
sanction and confirm his claim to the English crown, in the event of his
decease, by bequeathing it to William in his will.

[Footnote I: The children of Ethelred's oldest son, Edmund, were in
Hungary at this time, and seem to have been wellnigh forgotten.]

Emma was now advanced in years. The ambition which had been the ruling
principle of her life would seem to have been well satisfied, so far as
it is possible to satisfy ambition, for she had had two husbands and two
sons, all kings of England. But as she advanced toward the close of her
career, she found herself wretched and miserable. Her son Edward could
not forgive her for her abandonment of himself and his brother, to
marry a man who was their own and their father's bitterest enemy. She
had made a formal treaty in her marriage covenant to exclude them from
the throne. She had treated them with neglect during all the time of
Canute's reign, while she was living with him in London in power and
splendor. Edward accused her, also, of having connived at his brother
Alfred's death. The story is, that he caused her to be tried on this
charge by the ordeal of fire. This method consisted of laying red-hot
irons upon the stone floor of a church, at certain distances from each
other, and requiring the accused to walk over them with naked feet. If
the accused was innocent, Providence, as they supposed, would so guide
his footsteps that he should not touch the irons. Thus, if he was
innocent, he would go over safely; if guilty, he would be burned. Emma,
according to the story of the times, was subjected to this test, in the
Cathedral of Winchester, to determine whether she was cognizant of the
murder of her son. Whether this is true or not, there is no doubt that
Edward confined her a prisoner in the monastery at Winchester, where she
ended her days at last in neglect and wretchedness.

When Edward himself drew near to the close of his life, his mind was
greatly perplexed in respect to the succession. There was one descendant
of his brother Edmund--whose children, it will be remembered, Canute had
sent away to Denmark, in order to remove them out of the way--who was
still living in Hungary. The name of this descendant was Edward. He was,
in fact, the lawful heir to the crown. But he had spent his life in
foreign countries, and was now far away; and, in the mean time, the Earl
Godwin, who has been already mentioned as the great Saxon nobleman who
rose from a very humble rank to the position of the most powerful
subject in the realm, obtained such an influence, and wielded so great a
power, that he seemed at one time stronger than the king himself. Godwin
at length died, but his son Harold, who was as energetic and active as
his father, inherited his power, and seemed, as Edward thought, to be
aspiring to the future possession of the throne. Edward had hated Godwin
and all his family, and was now extremely anxious to prevent the
possibility of Harold's accession. He accordingly sent to Hungary to
bring Edward, his nephew, home. Edward came, bringing his family with
him. He had a young son named Edgar. It was King Edward's plan to make
arrangements for bringing this Prince Edward to the throne after his
death, that Harold might be excluded.

The plan was a very judicious one, but it was unfortunately frustrated
by Prince Edward's death, which event took place soon after he arrived
in England. The young Edgar, then a child, was, of course, his heir. The
king was convinced that no government which could be organized in the
name of Edgar would be able to resist the mighty power of Harold, and he
turned his thoughts, therefore, again to the accession of William of
Normandy, who was the nearest relative on his mother's side, as the only
means of saving the realm from falling into the hands of the usurper
Harold. A long and vexatious contest then ensued, in which the leading
powers and influences of the kingdom were divided and distracted by the
plans, plots, maneuvers, and counter maneuvers of Harold to obtain the
accession for himself, and of Edward to secure it for William of
Normandy. In this contest Harold conquered in the first instance, and
Edward and William in the end.




CHAPTER VII.

KING HAROLD.

A.D. 1063-1066

Harold and William.--Quarrel between Godwin and Edward.--Treaty between
Godwin and Edward.--Hostages.--The giving of hostages now
abandoned.--Cruelties inflicted.--Canute's hostages.--Godwin's
hostages.--Edward declines to give up the hostages.--Harold goes to
Normandy.--Harold's interview with Edward.--The storm.--Harold
shipwrecked.--Guy, count of Ponthieu.--Harold a prisoner.--He is
ransomed by William.--William's hospitality.--His policy in
this.--William's treatment of his guests.--William's policy.--William
makes known to Harold his claims to the English crown.--Harold's
dissimulation.--William's precautions.--The betrothment.--William
retains a hostage.--Harold's apparent acquiescence.--The public
oath.--The great assembly of knights and nobles.--The threefold
oath.--William's precaution.--The sacred relics.--Harold's
departure.--His measures to secure the throne.--Age and infirmities of
Edward.--Westminster.--Edward's death.--The crown offered to
Harold.--Harold's coronation.--He knights Edgar.--Harold violates his
plighted faith to William.


Harold, the son of the Earl Godwin, who was maneuvering to gain
possession of the English throne, and William of Normandy, though they
lived on opposite sides of the English Channel, the one in France and
the other in England, were still personally known to each other; for not
only had William, as was stated in the last chapter, paid a visit to
England, but Harold himself, on one occasion, made an excursion to
Normandy. The circumstances of this expedition were, in some respects,
quite extraordinary, and illustrate in a striking manner some of the
peculiar ideas and customs of the times. They were as follows:

During the life of Harold's father Godwin, there was a very serious
quarrel between him, that is, Godwin, and King Edward, in which both the
king and his rebellious subject marshaled their forces, and for a time
waged against each other an open and sanguinary war. In this contest the
power of Godwin had proved so formidable, and the military forces which
he succeeded in marshaling under his banners were so great, that
Edward's government was unable effectually to put him down. At length,
after a long and terrible struggle, which involved a large part of the
country in the horrors of a civil war, the belligerents made a treaty
with each other, which settled their quarrel by a sort of compromise.
Godwin was to retain his high position and rank as a subject, and to
continue in the government of certain portions of the island which had
long been under his jurisdiction; he, on his part, promising to dismiss
his armies, and to make war upon the king no more. He bound himself to
the faithful performance of these covenants by giving the king
_hostages_.

The hostages given up on such occasions were always near and dear
relatives and friends, and the understanding was, that if the party
giving them failed in fulfilling his obligations, the innocent and
helpless hostages were to be entirely at the mercy of the other party
into whose custody they had been given. The latter would, in such cases,
imprison them, torture them, or put them to death, with a greater or
less degree of severity in respect to the infliction of pain, according
to the degree of exasperation which the real or fancied injury which he
had received awakened in his mind.

This cruel method of binding fierce and unprincipled men to the
performance of their promises has been universally abandoned in modern
times, though in the rude and early stages of civilization it has been
practiced among all nations, ancient and modern. The hostages chosen
were often of young and tender years, and were always such as to render
the separation which took place when they were torn from their friends
most painful, as it was the very object of the selection to obtain those
who were most beloved. They were delivered into the hands of those whom
they had always regarded as their bitterest enemies, and who, of course,
were objects of aversion and terror. They were sent away into places of
confinement and seclusion, and kept in the custody of strangers, where
they lived in perpetual fear that some new outbreak between the
contending parties would occur, and consign them to torture or death.
The cruelties sometimes inflicted, in such cases, on the innocent
hostages, were awful. At one time, during the contentions between
Ethelred and Canute, Canute, being driven across the country to the
sea-coast, and there compelled to embark on board his ships to make his
escape, was cruel enough to cut off the hands and the feet of some
hostages which Ethelred had previously given him, and leave them
writhing in agony on the sands of the shore.

The hostages which are particularly named by historians as given by
Godwin to King Edward were his son and his grandson. Their names were
Ulnoth and Hacune. Ulnoth, of course, was Harold's brother, and Hacune
his nephew. Edward, thinking that Godwin would contrive some means of
getting these securities back into his possession again if he attempted
to keep them in England, decided to send them to Normandy, and to put
them under the charge of William the duke for safe keeping. When Godwin
died, Harold applied to Edward to give up the hostages, since, as he
alleged, there was no longer any reason for detaining them. They had
been given as security for _Godwin's_ good behavior, and now Godwin was
no more.

Edward could not well refuse to surrender them, and yet, as Harold
succeeded to the power, and evidently possessed all the ambition of his
father, it seemed to be, politically, as necessary to retain the
hostages now as it had been before. Edward, therefore, without
absolutely refusing to surrender them, postponed and evaded compliance
with Harold's demand, on the ground that the hostages were in Normandy.
He was going, he said, to send for them as soon as he could make the
necessary arrangements for bringing them home in safety.

Under these circumstances, Harold determined to go and bring them
himself. He proposed this plan to Edward. Edward would not absolutely
refuse his consent, but he did all in his power to discourage such an
expedition. He told Harold that William of Normandy was a crafty and
powerful man; that by going into his dominions he would put himself
entirely into his power, and would be certain to involve himself in some
serious difficulty. This interview between Harold and the king is
commemorated on the Bayeux tapestry by the opposite uncouth design.

What effect Edward's disapproval of the project produced upon Harold's
mind is not certainly known. It is true that he went across the Channel,
but the accounts of the crossing are confused and contradictory, some of
them stating that, while sailing for pleasure with a party of attendants
and companions on the coast, he was blown off from the shore and driven
across to France by a storm. The probability, however, is, that this
story was only a pretense. He was determined to go, but not wishing to
act openly in defiance of the king's wishes, he contrived to be blown
off, in order to make it seem that he went against his will.

[Illustration: HAROLD'S INTERVIEW WITH EDWARD.]

At all events, the _storm_ was real, whether his being compelled to
leave the English shores by the power of it was real or pretended. It
carried him, too, out of his course, driving him up the Channel to the
eastward of Normandy, where he had intended to land, and at length
throwing his galley, a wreck, on the shore, not far from the mouth of
the Somme. The galley itself was broken up, but Harold and his company
escaped to land. They found that they were in the dominions of a certain
prince who held possessions on that coast, whose style and title was
Guy, count of Ponthieu.

The law in those days was, that wrecks became the property of the lord
of the territory on the shores of which they occurred; and not only were
the ships and the goods which they contained thus confiscated in case of
such a disaster, but the owners themselves became liable to be seized
and held captive for a ransom. Harold, knowing his danger, was
attempting to secrete himself on the coast till he could get to
Normandy, when a fisherman who saw him, and knew by his dress and
appearance, and by the deference with which he was treated by the rest
of the company, that he was a man of great consequence in his native
land, went to the count, and said that for ten crowns he would show him
where there was a man who would be worth a thousand to him. The count
came down with his retinue to the coast, seized the unfortunate
adventurers, took possession of all the goods and baggage that the waves
had spared, and shut the men themselves up in his castle at Abbeville
till they could pay their ransom.

Harold remonstrated against this treatment. He said that he was on his
way to Normandy on business of great importance with the duke, from the
King of England, and that he could not be detained. But the count was
very decided in refusing to let him go without his ransom. Harold then
sent word to William, acquainting him with his situation, and asking him
to effect his release. William sent to the count, demanding that he
should give his prisoner up. All these things, however, only tended to
elevate and enlarge the count's ideas of the value and importance of the
prize which he had been so fortunate to secure. He persisted in refusing
to give him up without ransom. Finally William paid the ransom, in the
shape of a large sum of money, and the cession, in addition, of a
considerable territory. Harold and his companions in bondage were then
delivered to William's messengers, and conducted by them in safety to
Rouen, where William was then residing.

William received his distinguished guest with every possible mark of the
most honorable consideration. He was escorted with great parade and
ceremony into the palace, lodged in the most sumptuous manner, provided
with every necessary supply, and games, and military spectacles, and
feasts and entertainments without number, were arranged to celebrate his
visit. William informed him that he was at liberty to return to England
whenever he pleased, and that his brother and his nephew, the hostages
that he had come to seek, were at his disposal. He, however, urged him
not to return immediately, but to remain a short time in Normandy with
his companions. Harold accepted the invitation.

All this exuberance of hospitality had its origin, as the reader will
readily divine, in the duke's joy in finding the only important rival
likely to appear to contest his claims to the English crown so fully in
his power, and in the hope which he entertained of so managing affairs
at this visit as to divert Harold's mind from the idea of becoming the
King of England himself, and to induce him to pledge himself to act in
his, that is, William's favor. He took, therefore, all possible pains to
make him enjoy his visit in Normandy; he exhibited to him the wealth
and the resources of the country--conducting him from place to place to
visit the castles, the abbeys, and the towns--and, finally, he proposed
that he should accompany him on a military expedition into Brittany.

Harold, pleased with the honors conferred upon him, and with the novelty
and magnificence of the scenes to which he was introduced, entered
heartily into all these plans, and his companions and attendants were no
less pleased than he. William knighted many of these followers of
Harold, and made them costly presents of horses, and banners, and suits
of armor, and other such gifts as were calculated to captivate the
hearts of martial adventurers such as they. William soon gained an
entire ascendency over their minds, and when he invited them to
accompany him on his expedition into Brittany, they were all eager to
go.

Brittany was west of Normandy, and on the frontiers of it, so that the
expedition was not a distant one. Nor was it long protracted. It was, in
fact, a sort of pleasure excursion, William taking his guest across the
frontier into his neighbor's territory, on a marauding party, just as a
nobleman, in modern times, would take a party into a forest to hunt.
William and Harold were on the most intimate and friendly terms possible
during the continuance of this campaign. They occupied the same tent,
and ate at the same table. Harold evinced great military talents and
much bravery in the various adventures which they met with in Brittany,
and William felt more than ever the desirableness of securing his
influence on his, that is, William's side, or, at least, of preventing
his becoming an open rival and enemy. On their return from Brittany into
Normandy, he judged that the time had arrived for taking his measures.
He accordingly resolved to come to an open understanding with Harold in
respect to his plans, and to seek his co-operation.

He introduced the subject, the historians say, one day as they were
riding along homeward from their excursion, and had been for some time
talking familiarly on the way, relating tales to one another of wars,
battles, sieges, and hair-breadth escapes, and other such adventures as
formed, generally, the subjects of narrative conversation in those days.
At length William, finding Harold, as he judged, in a favorable mood for
such a communication, introduced the subject of the English realm and
the approaching demise of the crown. He told him, confidentially, that
there had been an arrangement between him, William, and King Edward, for
some time, that Edward was to _adopt_ him as his successor. William told
Harold, moreover, that he should rely a great deal on his co-operation
and assistance in getting peaceable possession of the kingdom, and
promised to bestow upon him the very highest rewards and honors in
return if he would give him his aid. The only rival claimant, William
said, was the young child Edgar, and he had no friends, no party, no
military forces, and no means whatever for maintaining his pretensions.
On the other hand, he, William, and Harold, had obviously all the power
in their own hands, and if they could only co-operate together on a
common understanding, they would be sure to have the power and the
honors of the English realm entirely at their disposal.

Harold listened to all these suggestions, and pretended to be interested
and pleased. He was, in reality, interested, but he was not pleased. He
wished to secure the kingdom for himself, not merely to obtain a share,
however large, of its power and its honors as the subject of another. He
was, however, too wary to evince his displeasure. On the contrary, he
assented to the plan, professed to enter into it with all his heart, and
expressed his readiness to commence, immediately, the necessary
preliminary measures for carrying it into execution. William was much
gratified with the successful result of his negotiation, and the two
chieftains rode home to William's palace in Normandy, banded together,
apparently, by very strong ties. In secret, however, Harold was
resolving to effect his departure from Normandy as soon as possible, and
to make immediate and most effectual measures for securing the kingdom
of England to himself, without any regard to the promises that he had
made to William.

Nor must it be supposed that William himself placed any positive
reliance on mere promises from Harold. He immediately began to form
plans for binding him to the performance of his stipulations, by the
modes then commonly employed for securing the fulfillment of covenants
made among princes. These methods were three--intermarriages, the giving
of hostages, and solemn oaths.

William proposed two marriages as means of strengthening the alliance
between himself and Harold. Harold was to give to William one of his
daughters, that William might marry her to one of his Norman chieftains.
This would be, of course, placing her in William's power, and making her
a hostage all but in name. Harold, however, consented. The second
marriage proposed was between William's daughter and Harold himself; but
as his daughter was a child of only seven years of age, it could only be
a betrothment that could take place at that time. Harold acceded to this
proposal too, and arrangements were made for having the faith of the
parties pledged to one another in the most solemn manner. A great
assembly of all the knights, nobles, and ladies of the court was
convened, and the ceremony of pledging the troth between the fierce
warrior and the gentle and wondering child was performed with as much
pomp and parade as if it had been an actual wedding. The name of the
girl was Adela.

In respect to hostages, William determined to detain one of those whom
Harold, as will be recollected, had come into Normandy to recover. He
told him, therefore, that he might take with him his nephew Hacune, but
that Ulnoth, his brother, should remain, and William would bring him
over himself when he came to take possession of the kingdom. Harold was
extremely unwilling to leave his brother thus in William's power; but as
he knew very well that his being allowed to return to England himself
would depend upon his not evincing any reluctance to giving William
security, or manifesting any other indication that he was not intending
to keep his plighted faith, he readily consented, and it was thus
settled that Ulnoth should remain.

Finally, in order to hold Harold to the fulfillment of his promises by
every possible form of obligation, William proposed that he should take
a public and solemn oath, in the presence of a large assembly of all the
great potentates and chieftains of the realm, by which he should bind
himself, under the most awful sanctions, to keep his word. Harold made
no objection to this either. He considered himself as, in fact, in
duress, and his actions as not free. He was in William's power, and was
influenced in all he did by a desire to escape from Normandy, and once
more recover his liberty. He accordingly decided, in his own mind, that
whatever oaths he might take he should afterward consider as forced upon
him, and consequently as null and void, and was ready, therefore, to
take any that William might propose.

The great assembly was accordingly convened. In the middle of the
council hall there was placed a great chair of state, which was covered
with a cloth of gold. Upon this cloth, and raised considerably above the
seat, was the _missal_, that is, the book of service of the Catholic
Church, written on parchment and splendidly illuminated. The book was
open at a passage from one of the Evangelists--the Evangelists being a
portion of the Holy Scriptures which was, in those days, supposed to
invest an oath with the most solemn sanctions.

Harold felt some slight misgivings as he advanced in the midst of such
an imposing scene as the great assembly of knights and ladies presented
in the council hall, to repeat his promises in the very presence of God,
and to imprecate the retributive curses of the Almighty on the violation
of them, which he was deliberately and fully determined to incur. He
had, however, gone too far to retreat now. He advanced, therefore, to
the open missal, laid his hand upon the book, and, repeating the words
which William dictated to him from his throne, he took the threefold
oath required, namely, to aid William to the utmost of his power in his
attempt to secure the succession to the English crown, to marry
William's daughter Adela as soon as she should arrive at a suitable age,
and to send over forthwith from England his own daughter, that she might
be espoused to one of William's nobles.

As soon as the oath was thus taken, William caused the missal and the
cloth of gold to be removed, and there appeared beneath it, on the chair
of state, a chest, containing the sacred relics of the Church, which
William had secretly collected from the abbeys and monasteries of his
dominions, and placed in this concealment, that, without Harold's being
conscious of it, their dreadful sanction might be added to that which
the Holy Evangelists imposed. These relics were fragments of bones set
in caskets and frames, and portions of blood--relics, as the monks
alleged, of apostles or of the Savior--and small pieces of wood,
similarly preserved, which had been portions of the cross of Christ or
of his thorny crown. These things were treasured up with great solemnity
in the monastic establishments and in the churches of these early times,
and were regarded with a veneration and awe, of which it is almost
beyond our power even to conceive. Harold trembled when he saw what he
had unwittingly done. He was terrified to think how much more dreadful
was the force of the imprecations that he had uttered than he had
imagined while uttering them. But it was too late to undo what he had
done. The assembly was finally dismissed. William thought he had the
conscience of his new ally firmly secured, and Harold began to prepare
for leaving Normandy.

He continued on excellent terms with William until his departure.
William accompanied him to the sea-shore when the time of his
embarkation arrived, and dismissed him at last with many farewell
honors, and a profusion of presents. Harold set sail, and, crossing the
Channel in safety, he landed in England.

He commenced immediately an energetic system of measures to strengthen
his own cause, and prepare the way for his own accession. He organized
his party, collected arms and munitions of war, and did all that he
could to ingratiate himself with the most powerful and wealthy nobles.
He sought the favor of the king, too, and endeavored to persuade him to
discard William. The king was now old and infirm, and was growing more
and more inert and gloomy as he advanced in age. His mind was occupied
altogether in ecclesiastical rites and observances, or plunged in a
torpid and lifeless melancholy, which made him averse to giving any
thought to the course which the affairs of his kingdom were to take
after he was gone. He did not care whether Harold or William took the
crown when he laid it aside, provided they would allow him to die in
peace.

He had had, a few years previous to this time, a plan of making a
pilgrimage to Jerusalem, but had finally made an arrangement with the
pope, allowing him to build a Cathedral church, to be dedicated to St.
Peter, a few miles west of London, in lieu of his pilgrimage. There was
already a Cathedral church or _minster_ in the heart of London which was
dedicated to St. Paul. The new one was afterward often called, to
distinguish it from the other, the _west_ minster, which designation,
Westminster, became afterward its regular name. It was on this spot,
where Westminster Abbey now stands, that Edward's church was to be
built. It was just completed at the time of which we are speaking, and
the king was preparing for the dedication of it. He summoned an assembly
of all the prelates and great ecclesiastical dignitaries of the land to
convene at London, in order to dedicate the new Cathedral. Before they
were ready for the service, the king was taken suddenly sick. They
placed him upon his couch in his palace chamber, where he lay, restless,
and moaning in pain, and repeating incessantly, half in sleep and half
in delirium, the gloomy and threatening texts of Scripture which seemed
to haunt his mind. He was eager to have the dedication go on, and they
hastened the service in order to gratify him by having it performed
before he died. The next day he was obviously failing. Harold and his
friends were very earnest to have the departing monarch declare in _his_
favor before he died, and their coming and going, and their loud
discussions, rude soldiers as they were, disturbed his dying hours. He
sent them word to choose whom they would for king, duke or earl, it was
indifferent to him, and thus expired.

Harold had made his arrangements so well, and had managed so effectually
to secure the influence of all the powerful nobles of the kingdom, that
they immediately convened and offered him the crown. Edgar was in the
court of Edward at the time, but he was too young to make any effort to
advance his claims. He was, in fact, a foreigner, though in the English
royal line. He had been brought up on the Continent of Europe, and
could not even speak the English tongue. He acquiesced, therefore,
without complaint, in these proceedings, and was even present as a
consenting spectator on the occasion of Harold's coronation, which
ceremony was performed with great pomp and parade, at St. Paul's, in
London, very soon after King Edward's death. Harold rewarded Edgar for
his complaisance and discretion by conferring upon him the honor of
knighthood immediately after the coronation, and in the church where the
ceremony was performed. He also conferred similar distinctions and
honors upon many other aspiring and ambitious men whom he wished to
secure to his side. He thus seemed to have secure and settled possession
of the throne.

Previously to this time, Harold had married a young lady of England, a
sister of two very powerful noblemen, and the richest heiress in the
realm. This marriage greatly strengthened his influence in England, and
helped to prepare the way for his accession to the supreme power. The
tidings of it, however, when they crossed the Channel and reached the
ears of William of Normandy, as the act was an open and deliberate
violation of one of the covenants which Harold had made with William,
convinced the latter that none of these covenants would be kept, and
prepared him to expect all that afterward followed.




CHAPTER VIII.

THE PREPARATIONS.

A.D. 1066

Harold's brother Tostig.--He brings intelligence of Harold's
accession.--William's strength and dexterity.--His
surprise.--Fitzosborne.--His interview with William.--The great council
of state.--The embassy to Harold.--Harold reminded of his promises.--His
replies.--Return of the messenger.--William prepares for war.--William
calls a general council.--Want of funds.--Means of raising
money.--Adverse views.--Various opinions.--Confusion and disorder.--Plan
of Fitzosborne.--It is adopted by William.--Success of Fitzosborne's
plan.--Supplies flow in liberally.--Embassage to the pope.--Its
success.--Reasons why the pope favored William's claims.--The banner
and the ring.--Excitement produced by their reception.--William's
proclamations.--Their effects.--William's promises.--Naval
preparations.--Philip, king of France.--William's visit to
him.--William's interview with Philip.--Philip opposes his
plans.--Council of nobles.--Result of their deliberations.--William's
return.--Final preparations.--Matilda made duchess regent.--William's
motives.--Republican sentiments.--Hereditary sovereigns.--Enthusiasm of
the people.--The two-tailed comet.


The messenger who brought William the tidings of Harold's accession to
the throne was a man named Tostig, Harold's brother. Though he was
Harold's brother, he was still his bitterest enemy. Brothers are seldom
friends in families where there is a crown to be contended for. There
were, of course, no public modes of communicating intelligence in those
days, and Tostig had learned the facts of Edward's death and Harold's
coronation through spies which he had stationed at certain points on the
coast. He was himself, at that time, on the Continent. He rode with all
speed to Rouen to communicate the news to William, eager to incite him
to commence hostilities against his brother.

[Illustration: WILLIAM RECEIVING TOSTIG'S TIDINGS.]

When Tostig arrived at Rouen, William was in a park which lay in the
vicinity of the city, trying a new bow that had been recently made for
him. William was a man of prodigious muscular strength, and they gave
him the credit of being able to use easily a bow which nobody else
could bend. A part of this credit was doubtless due to the etiquette
which, in royal palaces and grounds, leads all sensible courtiers to
take good care never to succeed in attempts to excel the king. But,
notwithstanding this consideration, there is no doubt that the duke
really merited a great portion of the commendation that he received for
his strength and dexterity in the use of the bow. It was a weapon in
which he took great interest. A new one had been made for him, of great
elasticity and strength, and he had gone out into his park, with his
officers, to try its powers, when Tostig arrived. Tostig followed him to
the place, and there advancing to his side, communicated the tidings to
him privately.

William was greatly moved by the intelligence. His arrow dropped upon
the ground. He gave the bow to an attendant. He stood for a time
speechless, tying and untying the cordon of his cloak in his
abstraction. Presently he began slowly to move away from the place, and
to return toward the city. His attendants followed him in silence,
wondering what the exciting tidings could be which had produced so
sudden and powerful an effect.

William went into the castle hall, and walked to and fro a long time,
thoughtful, and evidently agitated. His attendants waited in silence,
afraid to speak to him. Rumors began at length to circulate among them
in respect to the nature of the intelligence which had been received. At
length a great officer of state, named Fitzosborne, arrived at the
castle. As he passed through the court-yard and gates, the attendants
and the people, knowing that he possessed in a great degree the
confidence of his sovereign, asked him what the tidings were that had
made such an impression. "I know nothing certain about it," said he,
"but I will soon learn." So saying, he advanced toward William, and
accosted him by saying, "Why should you conceal from us your news? It is
reported in the city that the King of England is dead, and that Harold
has violated his oaths to you, and has seized the kingdom. Is that
true?"

William acknowledged that that was the intelligence by which he had been
so vexed and chagrined. Fitzosborne urged the duke not to allow such
events to depress or dispirit him. "As for the death of Edward," said
he, "that is an event past and sure, and can not be recalled; but
Harold's usurpation and treachery admits of a very easy remedy. You
have the right to the throne, and you have the soldiers necessary to
enforce that right. Undertake the enterprise boldly. You will be sure to
succeed."

William revolved the subject in his mind for a few days, during which
the exasperation and anger which the first receipt of the intelligence
had produced upon him was succeeded by calm but indignant deliberation,
in respect to the course which he should pursue. He concluded to call a
great council of state, and to lay the case before them--not for the
purpose of obtaining their advice, but to call their attention to the
crisis in a formal and solemn manner, and to prepare them to act in
concert in the subsequent measures to be pursued. The result of the
deliberations of this council, guided, doubtless, by William's own
designs, was, that the first step should be to send an embassy to Harold
to demand of him the fulfillment of his promises.

The messenger was accordingly dispatched. He proceeded to London, and
laid before Harold the communication with which he had been intrusted.
This communication recounted the three promises which Harold had made,
namely, to send his daughter to Normandy to be married to one of
William's generals; to marry William's daughter himself; and to maintain
William's claims to the English crown on the death of Edward. He was to
remind Harold, also, of the solemnity with which he had bound himself to
fulfill these obligations, by oaths taken in the presence of the most
sacred relics of the Church, and in the most public and deliberate
manner.

Harold replied,

1. That as to sending over his daughter to be married to one of
William's generals, he could not do it, for his daughter was dead. He
presumed, he said, that William did not wish him to send the corpse.

2. In respect to marrying William's daughter, to whom he had been
affianced in Normandy, he was sorry to say that that was also out of
his power, as he could not take a foreign wife without the consent of
his people, which he was confident would never be given; besides, he
was already married, he said, to a Saxon lady of his own dominions.

3. In regard to the kingdom: it did not depend upon him, he said, to
decide who should rule over England as Edward's successor, but upon the
will of Edward himself, and upon the English people. The English barons
and nobles had decided, with Edward's concurrence, that he, Harold, was
their legitimate and proper sovereign, and that it was not for him to
controvert their will. However much he might be disposed to comply with
William's wishes, and to keep his promise, it was plain that it was out
of his power, for in promising him the English crown, he had promised
what did not belong to him to give.

4. As to his oaths, he said that, notwithstanding the secret presence of
the sacred relics under the cloth of gold, he considered them as of no
binding force upon his conscience, for he was constrained to take them
as the only means of escaping from the duress in which he was virtually
held in Normandy. Promises, and oaths even, when extorted by necessity,
were null and void.

The messenger returned to Normandy with these replies, and William
immediately began to prepare for war.

His first measure was to call a council of his most confidential friends
and advisers, and to lay the subject before them. They cordially
approved of the plan of an invasion of England, and promised to
co-operate in the accomplishment of it to the utmost of their power.

The next step was to call a general council of all the chieftains and
nobles of the land, and also the _notables_, as they were called, or
principal officers and municipal authorities of the _towns_. The main
point of interest for the consideration of this assembly was, whether
the country would submit to the necessary taxation for raising the
necessary funds. William had ample power, as duke, to decide upon the
invasion and to undertake it. He could also, without much difficulty,
raise the necessary number of men; for every baron in his realm was
bound, by the feudal conditions on which he held his land, to furnish
his quota of men for any military enterprise in which his sovereign
might see fit to engage. But for so distant and vast an undertaking as
this, William needed a much larger supply of _funds_ than were usually
required in the wars of those days. For raising such large supplies, the
political institutions of the Middle Ages had not made any adequate
provision. Governments then had no power of taxation, like that so
freely exercised in modern times; and even now, taxes in France and
England take the form of _grants_ from the people to the kings. And as
to the contrivance, so exceedingly ingenious, by which inexhaustible
resources are opened to governments at the present day--that is, the
plan of borrowing the money, and leaving posterity to pay or repudiate
the debt, as they please, no minister of finance had, in William's day,
been brilliant enough to discover it. Thus each ruler had to rely, then,
mainly on the rents and income from his own lands, and other private
resources, for the comparatively small amount of money that he needed in
his brief campaigns. But now William perceived that ships must be built
and equipped, and great stores of provisions accumulated, and arms and
munitions of war provided, all which would require a considerable
outlay; and how was this money to be obtained?

The general assembly which he convened were greatly distracted by the
discussion of the question. The quiet and peaceful citizens who
inhabited the towns, the artisans and tradesmen, who wished for nothing
but to be allowed to go on in their industrial pursuits in peace, were
opposed to the whole project. They thought it unreasonable and absurd
that they should be required to contribute from their earnings to enable
their lord and master to go off on so distant and desperate an
undertaking, from which, even if successful, they could derive no
benefit whatever. Many of the barons, too, were opposed to the scheme.
They thought it very likely to end in disaster and defeat; and they
denied that their feudal obligation to furnish men for their sovereign's
wars was binding to the extent of requiring them to go out of the
country, and beyond the sea, to prosecute his claims to the throne of
another kingdom.

Others, on the other hand, among the members of William's assembly, were
strongly disposed to favor the plan. They were more ardent or more
courageous than the rest, or perhaps their position and circumstances
were such that they had more to hope from the success of the enterprise
than they, or less to fear from its failure. Thus there was great
diversity of opinion; and as the parliamentary system of rules, by which
a body of turbulent men, in modern times, are kept in some semblance of
organization and order during a debate, had not then been developed, the
meeting of these Norman deliberators was, for a time, a scene of uproar
and confusion. The members gathered in groups, each speaker getting
around him as many as he could obtain to listen to his harangue; the
more quiet and passive portion of the assembly moving to and fro, from
group to group, as they were attracted by the earnestness and eloquence
of the different speakers, or by their approval of the sentiments which
they heard them expressing. The scene, in fact, was like that presented
in exciting times by a political caucus in America, before it is called
to order by the chairman.

Fitzosborne, the confidential friend and counselor, who has already been
mentioned as the one who ventured to accost the duke at the time when
the tidings of Edward's death and of Harold's accession first reached
him, now seeing that any thing like definite and harmonious action on
the part of this tumultuous assembly was out of the question, went to
the duke, and proposed to him to give up the assembly as such, and make
the best terms and arrangements that he could with the constituent
elements of it, individually and severally. He would himself, he
said, furnish forty ships, manned, equipped, and provisioned; and he
recommended to the duke to call each of the others into his presence,
and ask them what they were individually willing to do. The duke adopted
this plan, and it was wonderfully successful. Those who were first
invited made large offers, and their offers were immediately registered
in form by the proper officers. Each one who followed was emulous of the
example of those who had preceded him, and desirous of evincing as much
zeal and generosity as they. Then, besides, the duke received these
vassals with so much condescension and urbanity, and treated them with
so much consideration and respect, as greatly to flatter their vanity,
and raise them in their own estimation, by exalting their ideas of the
importance of the services which they could render in carrying so vast
an enterprise to a successful result. In a word, the tide turned like a
flood in favor of granting liberal supplies. The nobles and knights
promised freely men, money, ships, arms, provisions--every thing, in
short, that was required; and when the work of receiving and registering
the offers was completed, and the officers summed up the aggregate
amount, William found, to his extreme satisfaction, that his wants were
abundantly supplied.

There was another very important point, which William adopted immediate
measures to secure, and that was obtaining the _Pope's_ approval of his
intended expedition. The moral influence of having the Roman pontiff on
his side, would, he knew, be of incalculable advantage to him. He sent
an embassage, accordingly, to Rome, to lay the whole subject before his
holiness, and to pray that the pope would declare that he was justly
entitled to the English crown, and authorize him to proceed and take
possession of it by force of arms. Lanfranc was the messenger whom he
employed--the same Lanfranc who had been so successful, some years
before, in the negotiations at Rome connected with the confirmation of
William and Matilda's marriage.

Lanfranc was equally successful now. The pope, after examining William's
claims, pronounced them valid. He decided that William was entitled to
the rank and honors of King of England. He caused a formal diploma to be
made out to this effect. The diploma was elegantly executed, signed with
the cross, according to the pontifical custom, and sealed with a round
leaden seal.[J]

[Footnote J: The Latin name for such a seal was _bulla_. It is on
account of this sort of seal, which is customarily affixed to them, that
papal edicts have received the name of _bulls_.]

It was, in fact, very natural that the Roman authorities should take a
favorable view of William's enterprise, and feel an interest in its
success, as it was undoubtedly for the interest of the Church that
William, rather than Harold, should reign over England, as the accession
of William would bring the English realm far more fully under the
influence of the Roman Church. William had always been very submissive
to the pontifical authority, as was shown in his conduct in respect to
the question of his marriage. He himself, and also Matilda his wife, had
always taken a warm interest in the welfare and prosperity of the
abbeys, the monasteries, the churches, and the other religious
establishments of the times. Then the very circumstance that he sent his
embassador to Rome to submit his claims to the pontiff's adjudication,
while Harold did not do so, indicated a greater deference for the
authority of the Church, and made it probable that he would be a far
more obedient and submissive son of the Church, in his manner of ruling
his realm, if he should succeed in gaining possession of it, than Harold
his rival. The pope and his counselors at Rome thought it proper to take
all these things into the account in deciding between William and
Harold, as they honestly believed, without doubt, that it was their
first and highest duty to exalt and aggrandize, by every possible means,
the spiritual authority of the sacred institution over which they were
called to preside.

The pope and his cardinals, accordingly, espoused William's cause very
warmly. In addition to the diploma which gave William formal authority
to take possession of the English crown, the pope sent him a banner and
a ring. The banner was of costly and elegant workmanship; its value,
however, did not consist in its elegance or its cost, but in a solemn
benediction which his holiness pronounced over it, by which it was
rendered sacred and inviolable. The banner, thus blessed, was forwarded
to William by Lanfranc with great care.

It was accompanied by the ring. The ring was of gold, and it contained a
diamond of great value. The gold and the diamond both, however, served
only as settings to preserve and honor something of far greater value
than they. This choice treasure was a hair from the head of the Apostle
Peter! a sacred relic of miraculous virtue and of inestimable value.

When the edict with its leaden seal, and the banner and the ring arrived
in Normandy, they produced a great and universal excitement. To have
bestowed upon the enterprise thus emphatically the solemn sanction of
the great spiritual head of the Church, to whom the great mass of the
people looked up with an awe and a reverence almost divine, was to seal
indissolubly the rightfulness of the enterprise, and to insure its
success. There was thenceforward no difficulty in procuring men or
means. Every body was eager to share in the glory, and to obtain the
rewards, of an enterprise thus commended by an authority duly
commissioned to express, in all such cases, the judgment of Heaven.

Finding that the current was thus fairly setting in his favor, William
sent proclamations into all the countries surrounding Normandy, inviting
knights, and soldiers, and adventurers of every degree to join him
in his projected enterprise. These proclamations awakened universal
attention. Great numbers of adventurous men determined to enter
William's service. Horses, arms, and accoutrements were everywhere in
great demand. The invasion of England and the question of joining it
were the universal topics of conversation. The roads were covered with
knights and soldiers, some on horseback and alone, others in bands,
large or small, all proceeding to Normandy to tender their services.
William received them all, and made liberal promises to bestow rewards
and honors upon them in England, in the event of his success. To some
he offered pay in money; to others, booty; to others, office and power.
Every one had his price. Even the priests and dignitaries of the Church
shared the general enthusiasm. One of them furnished a ship and twenty
armed men, under an agreement to be appointed bishop of a certain
valuable English diocese when William should be established on his
throne.

While all these movements were going on in the interior of the country,
all the sea-ports and towns along the coast of Normandy presented a very
busy scene of naval preparation. Naval architects were employed in great
numbers in building and fitting out vessels. Some were constructed and
furnished for the transportation of men, others for conveying provisions
and munitions of war; and lighters and boats were built for ascending
the rivers, and for aiding in landing troops upon shelving shores.
Smiths and armorers were occupied incessantly in manufacturing spears,
and swords, and coats of mail; while vast numbers of laboring men and
beasts of burden were employed in conveying arms and materials to and
from the manufactories to the ships, and from one point of embarkation
to another.

As soon as William had put all these busy agencies thus in successful
operation, he considered that there was one more point which it was
necessary for him to secure before finally embarking, and that was the
co-operation and aid of the French king, whose name at this time was
Philip. In his character of Duke of Normandy the King of France was
his liege lord, and he was bound to act, in some degree, under an
acknowledgment of his superior authority. In his new capacity, that is,
as King of England, or, rather, as heir to the English kingdom, he was,
of course, wholly independent of Philip, an

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