Malcolm, the king of Scotland, had now come to the assistance of the insurgents. York was again taken and put to fire and sword. King William then carried his anger and his vengeance into all the counties of the North; not a village which was not burnt, not a domain which was not confiscated. The churches, and even the monasteries found no shelter against Norman rapacity. The inhabitants of Beverley had amassed their treasures in the church dedicated to St. John of Beverley, a Saxon like themselves, who owed them protection. This, however, had no effect on the Normans, and Toutain, one of the battle chiefs of William, penetrated on horseback into the church of the monastery, in pursuit of the fugitives who had taken refuge there. His horse slipped upon the marble pavement of the sanctuary and the horseman was killed. St. John of Beverley had protected his countrymen, and the Normans withdrew from his abbey. Edgar Atheling had taken refuge again in Scotland; but this time the insurrection had found a true chief. Hereward, lord of Born, a warrior celebrated by his adventures abroad, had intrenched himself in the isle of Ely, which he called the Camp of Refuge, and from all sides the oppressed English gathered around him. William ordered the Earls Edwin and Morcar, who had returned to his court, to be carefully watched. They were apprised of the fact and secretly fled. Edwin was overtaken and slain by the soldiers who pursued him; but Morcar succeeded in reaching the isle of Ely. Thence Hereward undertook expeditions into the surrounding country, and kept at bay all the troops which William sent against him. He even defied Yves Taillebois, one of the king's favorites, whom William had recently induced to marry Lucy, a sister to Edwin and Morcar, and whose intolerable tyranny contributed to maintain the insurrection in the Eastern counties. But King William caused the little isle to be invested, cutting off from it provisions and reinforcements. The monks of the monastery grew weary of that compulsory fast, and indicated to the Normans the points of attack. The Saxons were beaten: the Bishop of Durham and Earl Morcar were taken and cast into prison for the remainder of their lives. Hereward succeeded in escaping, and in maintaining an irregular warfare; but, won over at last by the proposals of William, who sincerely admired his indomitable courage, he consented to lay down his arms. He lived long afterwards upon his domains, which the Conqueror permitted him to enjoy.
The Camp of Refuge was destroyed, and the county of Northumberland was given by William to the Saxon Waltheof, a warrior esteemed by his countrymen, whom William had attached to him by giving him the hand of his niece Judith. Being called away into Normandy in consequence of a rising of the inhabitants of Maine, the king took with him an English army, which fought as valiantly for him as it had against him shortly before. During his sojourn on the Continent he received into favor Edgar Atheling, who had recently failed in a new attempt instigated by the king of France, Philippe I.; the descendant of King Alfred took up his abode at Rouen, where he passed eleven years of his life in amusing himself with his horses and dogs.
A fresh insurrection recalled William into England. On this occasion it was the Normans themselves who revolted against him. His faithful companion, William FitzOsbern, was dead, and his son Roger, earl of Hereford like his father, had contracted a marriage with the sister of Ralph de Waher, or Guader, a Breton knight, who had accompanied William, and had been created Earl of Norfolk. This union was distasteful to the king, who had endeavored to prevent it, for he did not like the Bretons. After the nuptials the party was excited: FitzOsbern and Waher spoke of the tyranny of King William, and proposed his overthrow. Waltheof, who was present, had listened, but without taking part in the conspiracy. He had merely promised secrecy; but the secret was betrayed by his wife, who disliked him, and desired to rid herself of her husband. Lanfranc, who had become Archbishop of Canterbury upon the deposition of Stigand, and who was invested with power in the absence of his master, despatched an army against the rebels. The latter had been obliged lo declare themselves before their preparations were completed. When the king recrossed the sea the insurrection was already almost suppressed. Waher was banished, together with a great number of Bretons; FitzOsbern was put in prison; the unfortunate Waltheof, who had not taken up arms, but who was a Saxon, son of the glorious Siward, and Earl of Northumbria, was executed, to the great indignation of his fellow-countrymen, who came in crowds to pray at his tomb, and attributed to him numerous miracles. William did not allow Judith to marry the man for whom she had sacrificed her husband. She, on her part, refused the marriage which he offered her; and the king, having stripped her of all her possessions, this wicked woman was reduced to wander sometimes in England, sometimes on the Continent, bearing with her everywhere tokens of her misery and shame.
Thus ended the great insurrection in England. William was master of the country, and the harsh repressive measures which he had employed at length bore their fruits. The Saxons murmured under the weight of their misfortunes, but no longer dared to revolt. The king, frequently called into Normandy by his quarrels with his eldest son, Robert Curthose, was able now to leave England without anxiety. When he arrived at manhood Robert had called on his father to divest himself in his favor of the duchy of Normandy.
Robert's Encounter With His Father.
"I am not accustomed to throw off my clothing before going to bed," replied William, and Robert irritated, had revolted against his father and endeavored to arouse against him embarrassments and enemies on all sides. In vain had his mother Matilda, who loved him tenderly, endeavored many times to reconcile him with his father. Robert could not endure the yoke of paternal authority. He journeyed about the Continent, expatiating on his grievances and squandering the money which his mother sent to him secretly, to the great vexation of William. He received assistance from the king of France, Philippe I., who detested his father, and who installed him in the fortress of Gerberoi, on the confines of Normandy, whence it was easy for him to pillage the neighboring territory. William besieged Gerberoi. During a sortie Robert found himself face to face with a knight of robust form, concealed by his armor, and having his vizor lowered, with whom he contended for some time. At length he unseated him, and was on the point of despatching his antagonist, when the wounded knight called his people to his aid, and Robert recognized the voice of his father. In spite of his vanity Robert's heart was accessible to generous sentiments. He threw himself on his knees before his prostrate father, entreated his pardon, raised him with his own hands and set him on his horse. A reconciliation followed, for Robert was softened and penitent. But a fresh quarrel soon hurried the son out of Normandy. He set forth bearing with him a malediction which his father never revoked.
While the rebellions of his eldest son detained the Conqueror in his Norman domains, his brother Odo, bishop of Bayeux, whom he had created Earl of Kent, had made himself detested in England. A brave and able warrior, the bishop had often led to battle the soldiers of William; but he had taken advantage of his influence to oppress the poor Saxons, extorting from them enormous riches. His vast treasures, the grand position which his brother occupied, and the conquests of the Normans in Italy had awakened in the heart of the Bishop of Bayeux the hope of becoming Pope. He had bought a palace in Rome and had sent there a great deal of money; when he resolved to go himself into Italy, and began to make preparations for his journey, gathering around him a number of Norman pilgrims anxious to obtain pardon for their sins by that holy enterprise.
Scarcely, however, had William become cognizant of his brother's project, when he returned from Normandy, and meeting the prelate in the Isle of Wight, caused him to be immediately arrested. Then, reassembling his council, he enumerated before the barons his grievances against the Bishop of Bayeux, his cruelties, his extortions, his secret manœuvres. "What does such a brother deserve?" he asked in conclusion. No one replied. "Let him be arrested," said the king, "and I will see to him." The barons hesitated: William himself advanced towards his brother. "Thou hast not the right to touch me," exclaimed Odo, "I am a priest and a bishop; the Pope alone is empowered to condemn me." "I am not judging the Bishop of Bayeux, but the Earl of Kent," replied William; and having sent him across the sea into Normandy, he imprisoned his brother in a dungeon, to the great satisfaction of the English, who detested him.
William had lost his wife Queen Matilda in 1083; the only softening influence which had tempered that imperious will had disappeared. His two remaining sons, William and Henry, quarrelled with each other: the Danes were again threatening the shores of England, where they could easily have found support, and the English, sullen and subjected, nourished in their hearts a deep hatred towards the sovereign who had despoiled them, not only to enrich his Norman adherents, but in favor of the stags and deer, "whom (says the chronicle) he loved like his children," and for whose sake he had created or enlarged forests, while he had destroyed towns, villages, and monasteries which interfered with the preservation of game, or the pleasures of the chase, the passion for which he transmitted to his descendants.
It was during these years of doubtful repose that William caused to be compiled the Domesday Book, a complete record of the state of property in England, in repute to this day, and an indispensable labor after a conquest which had resulted in the transfer of nearly all the domains to other hands. William had divided the immense territories of which he had possessed himself into 60,215 fees of knights who had all sworn to him the oath of fidelity. Six hundred great vassals holding directly from the crown had also sworn to him faith and homage as their suzerain lord; and lest their united influence should become dangerous, the king had scattered their fiefs in different parts of the country among their enemies the Saxons. Perhaps unconsciously William had thus obviated the greater part of the inconveniences of the conquest. This was not like the case of a feeble and effeminate people exhausted by oppression as were the Gauls at the moment of the invasion of the Germans. In England, two nations of the same origin and the same religion, equally brave and obstinate, had found themselves face to face. The Saxons were strong enough to resist their conquerors step by step. The Normans could not completely oppress a people always ready to revolt, who had long possessed institutions fitted for developing individual liberty.
Thus compelled to reckon with the conquered, the Normans necessarily acquired by degrees a greater respect for liberty than they had felt under the Norman feudal régime. The persecuted Saxons remained united in order to preserve some power of resistance: the Normans triumphant, but few in number among their enemies, were in their turn compelled to agree together, that they might not be crushed. Governed by the feudal law, they owed to the king their lord feudal service and certain gifts or dues under definite conditions: the Saxons, who by degrees allied themselves with William, accepted the same conditions on receiving their fiefs, without, however, renouncing the laws peculiar to their race or the rural institutions which the conquerors did not use themselves, and did not always permit to be freely exercised. It was nevertheless to this assemblage of confused regulations, requiring long years to bring them into accord, that the two nations owed the preservation of their strength and their liberties during the fusion which was slowly in progress. In England, as on the Continent, the feudal lords were grand justiciaries upon their lands, but they had acquired the habit of summoning eight or ten of the principal inhabitants of the neighborhood in testimony to the truth of the facts alleged, according to the ancient Saxon custom, which is the origin of juries. When the criminal could not be found, the parish remained responsible for fines and costs. Thus the Saxons and the Normans came to perform themselves the duties of police and of maintaining order. Instead of succumbing, the liberties of England developed and fortified themselves by the conquest. It was a struggle, but not an oppression.
Meanwhile William the Conqueror grew weary of his inaction. Gloomy and alone, he felt the need of the noise of combat and the excitement of war. Philippe I. had refused to yield up to him the town of Mantes, and a portion of the French Vexin over which he claimed to have right as duke of Normandy. Philippe had even encouraged his barons to make incursions into William's territory. Uniting his Norman barons and his English vassals, whose valor he knew, against his enemies, he crossed the sea in the latter days of the year 1086, to seize by force of arms what the King of France refused to yield to negotiations. On arriving in France, William had been taken ill, and it was not till the month of June that he was at length able to march against Mantes, which he captured and cruelly pillaged. While in the midst of the burning town he was encouraging his soldiers when his horse slipped. The king was an old man of heavy frame; he fell and was seriously injured. They carried him to Rouen, where he languished six weeks. Remorse now seized him; all the cruelties of his life rose up before him; he endeavored to expiate them by gifts to the poor and endowments of the churches. His two younger sons were there, anxious to know in what way the king was about to divide his heritage. In spite of his anger against Robert, the king would not deprive him of the duchy of Normandy, where he had been able to make friends. "I leave to no one the kingdom of England," he said, "for I did not receive it as a heritage, but won it by my sword, at the price of much bloodshed. I confide it therefore to the good-will of God, desiring nevertheless that it should go to my son William, who has always obeyed and served me in all things;" and he wrote to the Archbishop Lanfranc, to recommend him to crown his son.
Henry approached his father's bed. "And I?" said he. "Do you leave me nothing?" "Five thousand pounds' weight of silver from my treasury," replied the king, who was now dying. "And what shall I do with this silver if I have neither house nor land?" cried the young man. "Be patient, my son," said the king, "and thou shalt perhaps, be greater than all." Henry immediately obtained payment of the money and went his way, while his brother William set out for England in order to accomplish his father's wishes by being crowned as soon as possible. The Conqueror was left alone upon his death-bed.
It was the 9th of September, 1087. William was sleeping heavily when he was awakened by the sound of bells. "What is that?" he inquired. "The bells of St. Mary sounding the prime," was the answer. "I commend my soul to Our Lady, the sainted Mary, and to God," said the king, raising his hand towards heaven, and he expired. His sons had left him when dying: his attendants abandoned him when dead. A sudden stupor seized on the entire city upon the death of this powerful and terrible ruler. When the monks recovered themselves, and flocked into the royal palace to fulfil the duties of their office, they found the chamber stripped and the body of the Conqueror almost naked, stretched upon the ground. The king's sons troubled themselves no more with the funeral of their father than they had done with regard to his last moments. His body was conveyed to Caen, and it was a country gentleman named Herluin who undertook the expenses, from a kind disposition and for the love of God. At the church of St. Stephen of Caen, which the king had built and endowed, the body of the monarch was on the point of being placed in a grave, when a citizen of Caen, named Azelin, advanced from among the crowd and exclaimed, "Bishop, the man whom you have praised was a robber. The ground on which we stand is mine; it was the site of my father's house, which he took from me to build his church. I claim my right, and in the name of God I forbid you to inter him in my ground, or to cover his body with earth which is mine." It was necessary to pay to Azelin the just compensation which he claimed before the body was allowed to be deposited in the grave that awaited it. It was found to be too narrow, and they were compelled to place the coffin in it by force, to the great horror of the bystanders; and not till then was the Conqueror able to enjoy in peace the six feet of earth required for his last resting-place.
Azelin Forbidding The Burial Of William The Conqueror.
William Rufus had not yet set sail from Wissant, near Calais, when he received intelligence of the death of his father. He kept the news secret; and obtained possession of several important places on the pretext of orders which he had received from the deceased king. It was not until he had helped himself freely to the treasure of the Conqueror at Winchester, and had made arrangements with the Archbishop Lanfranc, that he proclaimed the death of his father and his own claim to the crown. The bishop had been careful to administer to the king an oath binding him to observe the laws before consenting to give him his support; but oaths cost little to William. Scarcely had he been declared king by a council of barons and prelates, hurriedly assembled on the 26th of September, 1087, than he violated his original engagements, and cast the Saxon prisoners, whom his father had liberated on his death-bed, again into prisons, together with his Norman captives.
The new monarch would have acted more wisely if he had decided on a directly opposite course. Scarcely had the Bishop of Bayeux and his companions in captivity been set at liberty than they placed themselves at the head of the malcontents. The great barons all possessed fiefs in Normandy and in England: the separation of the two States, therefore, displeased them. Many of them resolved to depose William in order to secure to Robert an undivided paternal inheritance. In consequence of their manœuvres a serious insurrection broke out simultaneously in several parts of England. Robert Curthose had promised to support his partisans with a Norman army, and already some small bodies of troops had put to sea, confident of meeting with no resistance on the part of the king, who was without a fleet. William Rufus took his measures, and called round him that English nation which his father had scarcely subjected. "Let him who is not a man of nothing, either in the towns or in the country, leave his home and come." Such was the proclamation in all the counties according to the ancient Saxon custom. The Saxons obeyed: thirty thousand men assembled round King William., while the merchant ships, already numerous, were cruising in the Channel and destroying, one after the other, the little flotillas which were bringing over the Normans. Bishop Odo had fortified himself in Rochester: the king attacked him there with his Saxon army, and would have compelled him to surrender at discretion, if the Normans who had remained faithful to William had not interceded on his behalf. "We assisted thee in the time of danger," said they; "we beg thee now to spare our fellow-countrymen; our relations, who are also thine, and who aided thy father to possess himself of England." The king consented to allow the garrison to march out with arms and baggage; but the arrogant prelate demanded that the trumpets should not celebrate his defeat. "I would not consent for a thousand marks of gold," exclaimed William angrily, and above the sound of the trumpets arose the cries of the Saxons. "Bring us a halter that we may hang this traitor bishop and his accomplices. O king, why do you allow him to retire thus safe and sound?"
Odo returned to Normandy, Duke Robert negotiated with his brother, and the Saxons had already lost the advantages which William had accorded or promised to them in order to secure their co-operation. Lanfranc was dead: and the oppression had become more burdensome, the exactions more odious since his influence had disappeared. The king delayed long to appoint his successor, taking himself possession of the rich domains and revenues of the diocese of Canterbury in contempt of ecclesiastical pretensions. He had for minister and confidant a Norman priest, Ralph Flambard, whom he had made Bishop of Lincoln, and whose tyranny was so great that the inhabitants of his diocese, says the chronicle, "desired his death rather than live under his power." The hereditary passion of King William for the chase, and the rigor of the forest laws, were among the most frequent causes of persecution. "The guardian of the forests and the pastor of the wild beasts," as the Saxons called him, "took advantage of the least offence against his tyrannical ordinances to crush the thanes, who had preserved some remains of power." Fifty Saxons of considerable influence were accused of having taken, killed, and eaten deer. They denied the charge, and the Norman judges compelled them to undergo the ordeal of red hot iron; but their hands were untouched. When the fact was announced to the king he burst into laughter. "What matters that?" said he; "God is no good judge of such matters; it is I who am most concerned in such affairs, and I will judge these fellows." The chronicle does not say what became of the poor Saxons.
Several times war had broken out between William and his brother Robert. Rufus had conceived the hope of expelling Curthose from Normandy. He had numerous partisans on the Continent, and but for the support of the king of France, and the alliance with his brother Henry, Curthose must soon have succumbed. But in 1096, after a great insurrection in England, and at the moment when King William, triumphant over internal commotions, was probably about to renew his attacks upon Normandy, Duke Robert, seized with a passion for the Crusades, which were beginning then to agitate Christendom, suddenly proposed to his brother to mortgage his duchy for some years for a large sum of money which would enable him to equip troops and to set out with éclat for the East. The coffers of the king were no better filled than were those of the duke, but he was more skilful in replenishing them at the expense of his subjects. The monasteries and the churches were taxed like the Saxons. "Have you not coffers of gold and silver filled with the bones of the dead?" exclaimed Rufus, and he laid his hand upon the shrines containing the reliques. Robert received the sums agreed upon and set out joyfully for Palestine, while William crossed into Normandy, and without meeting resistance took possession of the duchy, where he already possessed numerous fortresses. Maine alone exhibited repugnance, and a revolt broke out there in 1100 while the Red King was enjoying the chase in England, in the hunting-grounds created by his father, which bear to this day the name of the New Forest. He set out instantly for the Continent. His nobles begged him to take time to assemble his forces. "No, no," replied Rufus, "I know the country and shall soon have men enough," and he jumped aboard the first vessel which he met with, in spite of the violence of the wind. "Did you ever hear of a king being drowned?" he said to the sailors who were hesitating to set sail; and he arrived safe and sound at Barfleur. The rumor of his coming terrified the lord of La Flêche, who was the leader of the insurrection; he abandoned the siege of Le Mans and took to flight. The domains of the enemy were soon ravaged, and Rufus returned to England.
Sinister rumors were circulating among the Saxons with regard to the royal forests. One of the sons of William the Conqueror had wounded himself mortally in chasing the deer in the New Forest. In the month of May, 1100, the son of Duke Robert, on a visit to his uncle, was killed there by an arrow. People said that Satan appeared to the Normans and announced the sinister end which awaited them; but the Red King continued to devote himself to the chase.
It was the 1st of August. He had passed the night at Malwood Keep, a castle used as a hunting-seat in the very heart of the forest. His brother Henry, with whom he had become reconciled, was with him. A numerous suite accompanied him, among whom was one of the private friends of William, a great hunter like himself, one Walter Tyrrel, a French nobleman, who possessed large estates in Poix and Ponthieu. During the night the king had been agitated by terrible dreams: he had been heard to invoke "the name of Our Lady, which was not his custom;" but he seemed to have forgotten all this and was preparing cheerfully for the fatigues and pleasures of the day. While he was putting on his buskins a workman approached and presented him with six new arrows. He examined them, and taking four for himself, gave the two others to Walter Tyrrel, with the remark, "The good marksman should have the good weapons." As he was breakfasting with a good appetite, one of the monks of the abbey of St. Peter at Gloucester brought him letters from his abbot. During the night one of the brethren had been tormented with dismal visions. He had seen Jesus Christ seated upon His throne, and at His feet a woman supplicating him on behalf of the human beings who were groaning under the yoke of William. The king laughed at the omen. "Do they take me for an Englishman," said he, "with their dreams? Do they think I am one of those idiots who abandon their course or their affairs because an old woman chances to dream or sneeze? Come, Walter de Poix! To horse!"
The hunting party had dispersed over the forest: Walter Tyrrel alone remained with the king. Their dogs hunted in company. Both were in search of prey when a great stag, disturbed by the commotion, unexpectedly passed between the king and his companion. William immediately drew his bow: the string of his weapon broke, and the arrow did not shoot. The stag had stopped, surprised by the noise, but not perceiving the hunters. The king had made a sign to Tyrrel, but he did not draw his bow. The king became angry. "Shoot, Walter!" he exclaimed; "Shoot, in the devil's name!" An arrow flew, no doubt that of Tyrrel; but instead of striking the stag it buried itself in the breast of the king. He fell without uttering a word. Walter ran to him and found him dead. Fear or remorse seized upon Tyrrel; he mounted his horse again and galloping to the sea coast, got aboard a vessel, passed into Normandy, and did not rest until he had taken refuge upon the territory of the king of France.
The news of this accident had become known in the forest; but no one gave a thought to the dead body of the king. Henry had hastened to Winchester, and had already put his hand upon the keys of the Royal Treasury when William of Breteuil joined him out of breath. "We have all," he said, "thou as well as I and the barons, sworn fidelity and homage to Duke Robert thy brother if the king should die first. Absent or present, right is right."
Death Of William Rufus.
A quarrel ensued, and it was with sword in hand that Henry possessed himself of the treasure and the royal jewels. Meanwhile a charcoal-burner, who had found the corpse of the monarch in the forest, was bringing it to Winchester wrapped in old linen, and leaving on the road behind the cart a long trail of blood.
The partisans of Robert in England were not numerous; they had no leader. The duke was returning from Palestine, but he had stopped on the way with the hospitable Normans, sons of Robert Guiscard, established in Calabria and in Sicily. He had even married there. Henry meantime had taken his measures and had caused himself to be proclaimed there by the barons assembled in London. The Archbishop of Canterbury, Anselm, had been expelled from England three years previously; the archbishopric of York was vacant. It was the custom of Rufus to delay as long as possible appointing to the sees, in order that he might himself enjoy their revenues. The Bishop of London crowned the new monarch. Henry Beau-Clerc, as he was called, because he was fond of books and of churchmen, became king under the title of Henry the First.
Henry was more popular among the Saxons than his two brothers had been. Born and bred in England, he was regarded as an Englishman, and his first care was to address himself to the English, who were more powerful than is generally believed, and who after all still formed the mass of the people of the country. "Friends and vassals," said he, "natives of the country in which I was born, you know that my brother has designs upon my kingdom. He is a proud man, who cannot live in peace: his only wish is to trample you under his feet. On the other hand I, as a mild and pacific sovereign, intend to maintain your ancient liberties and to govern you according to your own wishes with wisdom and moderation. I will give you, if you wish it, a record in my own hand. Stand firm for me; for while I am seconded by the valor of the English I have no fear of the foolish menaces of the Normans."
While the king was thus giving to the English a first charter, which proved of short duration, he determined to seal his promises by espousing a Saxon woman. He had cast his eyes on Matilda, daughter of Malcolm, king of Scotland, and of Margaret Atheling. Matilda had been reared in a convent in England by her aunt Christina Atheling, the abbess. The young girl hesitated: she had already been sought in marriage by several noblemen, and it was repugnant to her to unite herself with the enemy of her race and country. The Normans were irritated to see their king seeking support among their enemies, and they spread the report that Matilda had taken the vows as a nun in her infancy. It was necessary to convoke the Bishops to decide the question. Anselm, archbishop of Canterbury, (afterwards St. Anselm) had returned to England. He had always been just towards the Saxons. When his patron and friend Lanfranc was ridiculing in his presence the Saxon devotion to St. Alphege, the archbishop who was massacred by the Danes, Anselm had said, "For myself I regard that man as a martyr, and a true martyr. He preferred to face death rather than to do a wrong to his countrymen. He died for justice, as John died for the truth, and each alike for Christ, who is truth and justice." At the head of his bishops and on the personal testimony of Matilda, Anselm declared that she had never been consecrated to God, and the marriage took place. The queen was beautiful, charitable, and virtuous; but she exercised little influence over her husband, and was not able to prevent his often oppressing the people.
Henry had banished the favorites of his brother, who were odious to the Saxons, and Ralph Flambard, who had been a prisoner in the Tower, had scarcely escaped from that fortress, when he heard that Duke Robert had arrived in Normandy with his young wife Sibylla, daughter of the Count of Conversano. King Henry was greatly disquieted by the news. He had been careful to spread abroad the report that his brother had accepted the crown of Jerusalem, a worthy prize of his exploits in the Holy Land. The discontent of a certain number of Norman barons, and their disposition to offer their aid to Robert, compelled him more and more to depend upon the English as well as on the Church. He paid court to Anselm, and when Robert, encouraged by Ralph Flambard, published his declaration of war, the bishops and the common people of England were all on the side of King Henry. The Norman barons were divided, and the Saxon sailors, carried away no doubt by the fame which Robert had acquired in the Crusades, deserted with the fleet. It was in vessels constructed by his brother that Robert crossed with his army to English soil.
Duke Robert was undecided and wanting in settled character, but he was brave, and his affection for his family had resisted the disunion which had so long prevailed among these three brothers. Long before, when in company with William Rufus he was besieging their younger brother, now King Henry, but then only an adventurer without lands, who had seized upon Mont St. Michael, the supply of water had failed in the fortress, and the besieged prince sent to ask permission to obtain some. Robert consented, to the great vexation of William; he even sent to Henry wine for his table. "There is nothing now left to do but to send him provisions," said William moodily. "What!" exclaimed the duke, "ought I to let our brother die of thirst? and what other brother should we have if we lost him?"
Scarcely had Robert set foot in England when those among the Normans who were averse to war interposed between the two brothers. Once more Robert renounced his pretensions to the kingdom conquered by his father. Henry ceded to him the fortresses which he still held in Normandy, and promised to pay him a pension of 3000 marks of silver. A general amnesty was agreed upon on both sides.
Treaties, however, were scarcely more effectual than charters in binding King Henry. By degrees the barons who had taken the side of Robert were expelled from their domains and banished from England. The chief of all, Robert of Belesme, earl of Shrewsbury, had given ground of dissatisfaction by raising his standard when he had been called on to appear before the royal tribunal. Besieged in Bridgnorth, he had friends in the royal camp who sought to reconcile him with the king. "Do not listen to them. King Henry," cried the English infantry, "they are desirous of drawing you into a snare. We arc here and will aid thee, and will assault the town for thee. Make no peace with the traitor till you secure him alive or dead." Henry pushed on with the siege; Bridgnorth was taken, and Robert of Belesme, an exile, passed over into Normandy, where he possessed thirty castles and vast domains, which Duke Robert, faithful to the treaty, had begun to ravage as soon as he saw the Earl of Shrewsbury in revolt against his sovereign. In his chagrin at seeing the amnesty promised in his name to the barons violated, Robert went himself to England, placing himself defenceless in the hands of his brother in order to intercede for his friends. He even made a present to Queen Matilda of 1000 marks of silver a year, part of the 3000 marks which her husband had engaged to pay him. He obtained only vague promises, and from the year 1104 the resolution of King Henry to possess himself of Normandy began again to show itself clearly.
Robert had lost his wife, and disorder reigned in his court. He was still in want of money; affairs were unsettled, and Normandy was suffering all the evils of a weak and capricious government. Henry openly declared himself the protector of the duchy against the maladministration of his brother. "I will give thee money," he wrote to him, "but yield to me the land. Thou hast the title of chief, but in reality thou rulest no longer, for those who owe thee obedience ridicule thee." Robert refused this proposal with indignation, and Henry began his preparations for invading Normandy with an armed force.
The wars were always a cruel burden for the people; the levies of money necessary for the equipment of soldiers were ruinous to the poor citizens and the unfortunate peasants. Before the departure of Henry for Normandy crowds of country people presented themselves on the road by which the king passed, casting at his feet their ploughshares in token of distress. Nevertheless the king set out and met his brother at Tinchebrai, not far from Mortagne. The struggle was fierce. The military talents of Robert were much superior to those of his brother, but his army was less considerable, and there were traitors in the camp. In the very heat of the contest Robert of Belesme took to flight with his division. The duke was made prisoner, and his forces were completely defeated. Henry at the same time seized Edgar Atheling, once the legitimate pretender to the crown, the uncle of Queen Matilda. In consideration of these facts he was allowed his liberty in England, and received from the king a small pension, which enabled him to end his days in such complete obscurity that we are even ignorant of the date of his death.
Duke Robert was not fated to enjoy a captivity so mild. He had suffered defeat on the 14th of October, 1106, the anniversary of the day when forty years previously his father had won the battle of Hastings. "God thus disposing," says the Chronicle, "that Normandy became subject to England on the same day that England had become subject to Normandy." Ralph Flambard had regained his bishopric of Durham by giving up to the king the town and fortress of Lisieux; but Robert had been conveyed to England, and lodged in the castle of Cardiff, in Wales, which had recently been conquered by the Normans. He enjoyed there a certain amount of liberty, and hunted in the surrounding forest. One day he leaped upon his horse and took to flight. He was not well acquainted with the way; his horse sank into a bog. He was captured and taken back to his prison. When the king was acquainted with this attempt at escape, he ordered that the prisoner's eyes should be burnt out by means of a bason of red-hot iron. The captivity of the unhappy duke became complete; but his robust constitution withstood all these misfortunes. He lived twenty-eight years in his prison, blind and alone, without news of the son whom he had left a child in Normandy, and preserving to the last the dignified pride of his race. One day some new clothes were brought to him from the king; Robert handled them and discovered that one of them was unript at the seam. He was told that Henry had tried on the doublet and had found it too small for him. The duke threw all the clothes to a distance, exclaiming, "So then my brother, or rather my traitor, that cowardly clerk who has dismembered and deprived me of sight, holds me now in such contempt—I who was once held in such honor and renown—that he makes me alms of his old clothes as to a valet!"
Robert was nearly eighty years of age when he died in 1135, some months before his brother, King Henry. He had survived in his captivity and suffering almost all the chief warriors with whom he had fought before Jerusalem.
Robert had, however, a son, William Cliton, or as they soon afterwards called him, William of Normandy; but the boy was only seven years old when his uncle, finding himself in possession of the whole of Normandy, began to besiege Valaise, where he was under guard. No one thought of declaring himself in favor of the little prince. He was taken and conducted to the king. The child cried and asked for mercy; he had reason to tremble, for his life was a great obstacle to the repose of his uncle. But making a violent effort to banish evil thoughts, the king desired to remove the little William from his presence, and he confided him to a faithful servant of his household, Helie of St. Saen. Sometime afterwards the king had changed his mind and desired to take back the little prince, but Helie carried him off secretly, and both took refuge at the court of the king of France, Louis the Fat. He was there growing up when King Henry was marrying his daughter Matilda, aged eight years, to Henry III., Emperor of Germany. The marriage of an eldest daughter was one of those occasions which gave the right to the feudal lord to levy taxes from their vassals, and King Henry used this right in such a way that the whole English people groaned under the burden. The splendor of the retinue which accompanied the little princess on her departure from England was soon forgotten; but when she returned to her native land people still remembered the tears which her marriage had cost.
King Louis VI. had promised William Cliton the investiture of Normandy, when in 1113 war again broke out between France and England. It lasted for two years, and all the castles on the frontiers were captured from Henry. His able diplomacy procured him in 1115 an advantageous treaty, which assured to prince William of England the hand of Matilda of Anjou, daughter of the Count Fulke. No one thought of reserving the rights of William Cliton over Normandy, and when the great Norman barons were convoked in 1117 to take the oath of allegiance to Prince William, no claim was advanced in favor of the exile. His uncle had made an attempt to entice him into England, promising him the gift of three large counties; but the young man was not willing to trust himself to his father's jailor, and we meet with him again in 1119 at the head of a confederation formed on the Continent against King Henry. At the battle of Brenville, which preceded by some years the close of a war of mingled success and disaster, William Cliton, or FitzRobert as he was often called, penetrated into the presence of his uncle; but his knights were repulsed, and the marriage of Prince William with Matilda of Anjou, celebrated sumptuously in 1120, destroyed the hopes which his cousin had conceived. King Louis accepted the homage of Normandy represented by the son of the king of England, thus sparing the regal pride of Henry. The policy of this prince prevailed: he resolved to return in triumph to England, and on the 25th of November, 1120, he prepared to set sail from the little port of Barfleur, when a mariner well known upon that coast advanced towards him, presenting a mark of gold. "Stephen, son of Erard, my father served yours on the sea," said he, "and it was he who steered the vessel aboard which your father sailed for the conquest. Sire king, I entreat you to grant me in fief the same office. I have a vessel called the Blanchenef, well fitted out."
The king's ship was already prepared; he promised Stephen to give him as passengers the Prince William and his sister, Lady Mary, countess of Perche. The Blanchenef was a large vessel. Three hundred persons went aboard her as he set sail. The king had preceded them on the sea, but Thomas FitzStephen was proud of the fast sailing of his vessel, and made no haste to depart, thinking to overtake the squadron without difficulty. There was dancing and drinking upon the poop of the vessel: all the company were excited when at length they set out. Night had come on; the moon had risen; the wind was fresh. They advanced rapidly, for the sailors lent aid with the oars. They were coasting, when suddenly the ship struck upon a rock at the level of the water, then called the Raz de Catte, now the Raz de Catteville. The Blanchenef's planks were opened by the shock, and she began to fill with water. The cry of terror which arose from those aboard reached the vessel of the king, sailing at a considerable distance; but no one understood the cause of the noise. Henry disembarked quietly. His children had launched a boat on the sea; and Prince William had entered it with some of his companions, but the cries of his sister, the Lady Mary, induced him to return to the foundering vessel; he had nearly rescued her when the other passengers, driven wild with despair, sprang in a mass into the feeble skiff, which immediately disappeared with all its occupants. The vessel sank almost at the same instant. Two men only clung to the mast, a butcher of Rouen and a young nobleman named Gilbert de Laigle. For a moment the head of Thomas FitzStephen appeared above the waves. "What has become of the king's son?" he cried to the two survivors. "He has disappeared with his sister, and every one with him," they replied. "Unhappy me!" exclaimed the pilot, as he plunged again into the waves. Gilbert's hands were frozen; he relaxed his hold of the mast which supported him and was drowned before the eyes of his companion, who was well wrapped in his sheepskin and hardened against the effects of rough weather. He held out until the morning, and was rescued by some fishermen on the coast. From his lips they learned the news of the disaster which had befallen the Blanchenef's. In England they did not dare to apprise King Henry, who was awaiting the arrival of his children. At length a boy presented himself before him and cast himself at his feet. Henry assisted him to rise, and the child related the story of the wreck of the Norman vessel. "And from that time the king was never seen to smile," say the chroniclers, without, however, expending any more tenderness over the fate of Prince William, whose pride and harshness had caused apprehensions in England. "If I ever come to reign over these miserable Saxons," he was accustomed to say, "I will compel them to draw the plough like oxen." "So he perished on a quiet night and in calm weather," repeated the Saxons; "and it came to pass that his head, instead of being encircled by a crown of gold, was broken upon the rocks. It was God himself who decreed that the son of the Norman should not behold England again."
King Henry had no male heir, although he had married again with the daughter of the duke of Louvain. Many of the barons seemed inclined to rally round William FitzRobert, who had lately excited another revolt. Henry resolved to settle the crown upon his daughter, the Empress Maud, who had lately become a widow. All the ability of the king could not prevent at first a feeling of repugnance among the great nobles: but the royal power had become very great, supported as it was by the antagonism of two hostile races between whom the king alone held the balance. The Normans yielded. On Christmas Day, 1126, the Empress Maud was declared heiress to the kingdom, and six months later she married Geoffrey Plantagenet, [Footnote 2] son of Fulke, count of Anjou, whose father had transferred to him his domains on setting out for the Holy Land. Maud had for some time resisted the plans of her father for her marriage, which had been kept so secret that the barons protested, maintaining that the king had not the right to dispose without their approval of their future sovereign. The nuptial festivities lasted three weeks. Heralds, armed and in magnificent costume, traversed the streets and squares of Rouen, crying aloud, "In the name of King Henry, let no man here present, inhabitant or stranger, dare to absent himself from the royal rejoicings; for whosoever shall not take part in the amusements and games shall be deemed guilty of offence towards his lord the king."
[Footnote 2: So named because he was accustomed to wear in his hat a branch of genet or broom (Planta genista) in blossom.]
Henry had obtained the oaths of all the barons, but he had too much sense and knowledge of human nature not to be aware how precarious the future situation of his daughter must be if his nephew, William FitzRobert, should live to dispute the throne. The young prince appeared, indeed, to be destined to a brilliant future. King Louis had brought about a marriage between him and the sister of his wife, a princess of Savoy, and he had given to her for a portion Pontoise, Chaumont, and the Vexin. Soon afterwards Charles the Good, count of Flanders, was assassinated in the church at the foot of the altar. Louis entered Flanders for the purpose of punishing the murderers, and the count not having left any children, Louis conferred his domains upon William FitzRobert, great grandson of the old Count Baldwin. The young count, who remained in his new territory, had soon a cause of quarrel with a certain number of his subjects, who called the king of England to their aid. The latter supported, as a rival to his nephew, the landgrave Thierry of Alsace, who soon made himself master of Lille, of Ghent, and other important places. The son of Robert Curthose, however, had inherited the military talents of his father and grandfather: he completely defeated his adversary under the walls of Alost; but he had received a wound in the hand from a pike, and this injury, at first regarded as of little importance, turned to gangrene. William was carried to the monastery of St. Omer, where he died on the 27th of July, 1128. He was not yet twenty-six years of age, and he left no issue. His last care had been to recommend to the clemency of his uncle the Norman barons who had served his cause. The king willingly pardoned them, so rejoiced was he to be delivered from the anxieties which his nephew caused him. Duke Robert was still living; but these successes had no more effect than the death of his son upon the dreary captivity of the unfortunate blind prisoner.
The Empress Maud and her husband often gave trouble to King Henry by their quarrels. The birth of their eldest son in 1133 for a moment appeased their dissensions. The child was christened Henry, after his grandfather, and the Normans called him Henry FitzEmpress, to distinguish him from the king, whom they called Henry FitzWilliam Conqueror. Two other sons were born to Count Geoffrey Plantagenet, and the quarrels recommenced. The count claimed Normandy, which the king had promised to relinquish in his favor; but Henry still refused. He was no more disposed than his father had been "to strip himself of his clothing before bedtime." His strength, however, was declining: he was dejected. On the 25th of November, 1135, anxious to dispel his low spirits, he set out for the forest of Lion-la-Forèt, in Normandy. When he returned he was hungry, and at supper he ate greedily of a dish of lampreys, which his physician regarded as unwholesome. His digestion was disordered: he fell ill and died on the 1st of December, at the age of sixty-six, leaving all his domains on both sides of the sea to his daughter Maud and her descendants. He had reigned thirty-five years; and, with the exception of some unimportant expeditions against the French, England had enjoyed peace under his sway. This great blessing had been sullied by many crimes. Neither plighted faith nor natural feeling had ever impeded Henry I. in his ambitious projects; but he had placed the dominion of the Norman race in England on such solid foundations that the troubles which followed upon his death could not shake it; and if success were the test of moral worth Henry FitzWilliam Conqueror might be regarded as a great king.
All his efforts and all his precautions, however, had not enabled him to secure the succession to his daughter. Scarcely had he breathed his last when his nephew Stephen, son of the Count of Blois and of Adela, daughter of William the Conqueror, set sail immediately for England. The king had always treated his nephew with particular favor; he had given him vast fiefs in England. The Count Stephen was very popular among the Normans and the Saxons. His wife, Maud, niece of Matilda, first wife of Henry I., even belonged to the royal Saxon family. Stephen boldly laid claim to the throne, which could not, he said, belong to a woman. He was descended like her from William the Conqueror, and in the same degree. England was not a property which could be bequeathed at pleasure and without respect for the wishes of the people. Many barons were of Stephen's opinion, and the treasure of King Henry, which his brother the Bishop of Winchester yielded up to him, secured to him other adherents. The chief minister of the deceased king, Roger, Bishop of Salisbury, whom Henry had originally remarked and attached to his person as "the readiest priest at saying a mass whom he had ever met with," allowed himself to be won by money. William Corbois, Archbishop of Canterbury, was more scrupulous, but was persuaded that the king, irritated by the conduct of his daughter, had adopted his nephew on his death-bed. Stephen was elected by the barons and prelates, who considered themselves absolved from their oath towards the empress because she had married without their consent; and the coronation took place at Westminster, on the 26th of December, St. Stephen's Day. The pope confirmed the election with the more readiness because Stephen had accepted the oath of the clergy, under the condition imposed by the bishops, of respect for the liberties and discipline of the Church. The barons had obtained new fiefs, with permission to fortify their castles and to construct new ones. Those who were greedy for gain received money, and King Stephen was in such high favor on both sides of the sea that when Geoffrey Plantagenet entered Normandy to claim the rights of his wife, the natural animosity of the Normans against the Angevins broke forth with violence. The count was compelled to retire, and to conclude with Stephen a truce for two years, in consideration of a pension of 3000 marks of silver. The king crossed over into Normandy, and received there the homage of the barons; and Louis VII., surnamed the Young, then king of France, betrothed his young sister, Constance, to the little Eustace, son of Stephen, granting to the child the investiture of Normandy.