CHAPTER VIII. -- THE BATTLE OF HASTINGS, 1066.

"Eis vos la Bataille assemblee,

Dunc encore est grant renomee."

ROMAN DE ROU, 1. 3183.

Arletta's pretty feet twinkling in the brook gained her a duke's love,

and gave us William the Conqueror. Had she not thus fascinated Duke

Robert, the Liberal, of Normandy, Harold would not have fallen at

Hastings, no Anglo-Norman dynasty could have arisen, no British empire.

The reflection is Sir Francis Palgrave's: [History of Normandy and

England, vol. i. p. 528.] and it is emphatically true. If any one should

write a history of "Decisive loves that; have materially influenced the

drama of the world in all its subsequent scenes," the daughter of the

tanner of Falaise would deserve a conspicuous place in his pages. But

it is her son, the victor of Hastings, who is now the object of our

attention; and no one, who appreciates the influence of England and her

empire upon the destinies of the world, will ever rank that victory as

one of secondary importance.

It is true that in the last century some writers of eminence on our

history and laws mentioned the Norman Conquest in terms, from which it

might be supposed that the battle of Hastings led to little more than

the substitution of one royal family for another on the throne of this

country, and to the garbling and changing of some of our laws through

the "cunning of the Norman lawyers." But, at least since the appearance

of the work of Augustin Thierry on the Norman Conquest, these forensic

fallacies have been exploded. Thierry made his readers keenly appreciate

the magnitude of that political and social catastrophe. He depicted

in vivid colours the atrocious cruelties of the conquerors, and the

sweeping and enduring innovations that they wrought, involving the

overthrow of the ancient constitution, as well as of the last of the

Saxon kings. In his pages we see new tribunals and tenures superseding

the old ones, new divisions of race and class introduced, whole

districts devastated to gratify the vengeance or the caprice of the new

tyrant, the greater part of the lands of the English confiscated

and divided among aliens, the very name of Englishmen turned into a

reproach, the English language rejected as servile and barbarous, and

all the high places in Church and State for upwards of a century filled

exclusively by men of foreign race.

No less true than eloquent is Thierry's summing up of the social effects

of the Norman Conquest on the generation that witnessed it, and on many

of their successors. He tells his reader that "if he would form a just

idea of England conquered by William of Normandy, he must figure to

himself, not a mere change of political rule, not the triumph of one

candidate over another candidate, of the man of one party over the man

of another party; but the intrusion of one people into the bosom of

another people, the violent placing of one society over another society,

which it came to destroy, and the scattered fragments of which it

retained only as personal property, or (to use the words of an old act)

as 'the clothing of the soil:' he must not picture to himself on the one

hand, William, a king and a despot--on the other, subjects of William's,

high and low, rich and poor, all inhabiting England, and consequently

all English; but he must imagine two nations, of one of which William

is a member and the chief--two nations which (if the term must be used)

were both subject to William, but as applied to which the word has quite

different senses, meaning in the one case subordinate, in the other

subjugated. He must consider that there are two countries, two soils,

included in the same geographical circumference; that of the Normans

rich and free, that of the Saxons poor and serving, vexed by RENT and

TAILLAGE; the former full of spacious mansions, and walled and moated

castles, the latter scattered over with huts and straw, and ruined

hovels; that peopled with the happy and the idle, with men of the army

and of the court, with knights and nobles,--this with men of pain

and labour, with farmers and artizans: on the one side, luxury and

insolence, on the other, misery and envy--not the envy of the poor at

the sight of opulence they cannot reach, but the envy of the despoiled

when in presence of the despoilers."

Perhaps the effect of Thierry's work has been to cast into the shade the

ultimate good effects on England of the Norman Conquest. Yet these are

as undeniable as are the miseries which that conquest inflicted on our

Saxon ancestors from the time of the battle of Hastings to the time of

the signing of the Great Charter at Runnymede. That last is the true

epoch of English nationality: it is the epoch when Anglo-Norman and

Anglo-Saxon ceased to keep aloof from each other, the one in haughty

scorn, the other in sullen abhorrence; and when all the free men of the

land; whether barons, knights, yeomen, or burghers, combined to lay the

foundations of English freedom.

Our Norman barons were the chiefs of that primary constitutional

movement; those "iron barons" whom Chatham has so nobly eulogized.

This alone should make England remember her obligations to the Norman

Conquest, which planted far and wide, as a dominant class in her land,

a martial nobility of the bravest and most energetic race that ever

existed.

It may sound paradoxical, but it is in reality no exaggeration to say,

with Guizot, [Essais sur l'Histoirs de France, p. 273, et seq.] that

England owes her liberties to her having been conquered by the Normans.

It is true that the Saxon institutions were the primitive cradle of

English liberty, but by their own intrinsic force they could never have

founded the enduring free English constitution. It was the Conquest that

infused into them a new virtue; and the political liberties of England

arose from the situation in which the Anglo-Saxon and the Anglo-Norman

populations and laws found themselves placed relatively to each other

in this island. The state of England under her last Anglo-Saxon kings

closely resembled the state of France under the last Carlovingian, and

the first Capetian princes. The crown was feeble, the great nobles were

strong and turbulent. And although there was more national unity

in Saxon England than in France; although the English local free

institutions had more reality and energy than was the case with anything

analogous to them on the Continent in the eleventh century, still the

probability is that the Saxon system of polity, if left to itself, would

have fallen into utter confusion, out of which would have arisen first

an aristocratic hierarchy like that which arose in France, next an

absolute monarchy, and finally a series of anarchical revolutions, such

as we now behold around, but not among us. [See Guizot, UT SUPRA.]

The latest conquerors of this island were also the bravest and the best.

I do not except even the Romans. And, in spite of our sympathies with

Harold and Hereward, and our abhorrence of the founder of the New

Forest, and the desolator of Yorkshire, we must confess the superiority

of the Normans to the Anglo-Saxons and Anglo-Danes, whom they met here

in 1066, as well as to the degenerate Frank noblesse and the crushed and

servile Romanesque provincials, from whom, in 912, they had wrested the

district in the north of Gaul which still bears the name of Normandy.

It was not merely by extreme valour and ready subordination or military

discipline, that the Normans were pre-eminent among all the conquering

races of the Gothic stock, but also by their instinctive faculty

of appreciating and adopting the superior civilizations which they

encountered. Thus Duke Rollo and his Scandinavian warriors readily

embraced the creed, the language, the laws, and the arts which France,

in those troubled and evil times with which the Capetian dynasty

commenced, still inherited from imperial Rome and imperial Charlemagne.

They adopted the customs, the duties, the obedience that the

capitularies of emperors and kings had established; but that which they

brought to the application of those laws, was the spirit of life, the

spirit of liberty--the habits also of military subordination, and the

aptness for a state politic, which could reconcile the security of all

with the independence of each. [Sismondi, Histoire des Francais,

vol. iii. p. 174.] So also in all chivalric feelings, in enthusiastic

religious zeal, in almost idolatrous respect to females of gentle birth,

in generous fondness for the nascent poetry of the time, in a keen

intellectual relish for subtle thought and disputation, in a taste for

architectural magnificence, and all courtly refinement and pageantry,

the Normans were the Paladins of the world. Their brilliant qualities

were sullied by many darker traits of pride, of merciless cruelty, and

of brutal contempt for the industry, the rights, and the feelings of all

whom they considered the lower classes of mankind.

Their gradual blending with the Saxons softened these harsh and evil

points of their national character, and in return they fired the duller

Saxon mass with a new spirit of animation and power. As Campbell boldly

expressed it, "THEY HIGH-METTLED THE BLOOD OF OUR VEINS." Small had been

the figure which England made in the world before the coming over of

the Normans; and without them she never would have emerged from

insignificance. The authority of Gibbon may be taken as decisive when he

pronounces that, "Assuredly England was a gainer by the Conquest." and

we may proudly adopt the comment of the Frenchman Rapin, who, writing of

the battle of Hastings more than a century ago, speaks of the revolution

effected by it, as "the first step by which England has arrived to that

height of grandeur and glory we behold it in at present." [Rapin, Hist.

England, p. 164. See also Sharon Turner, vol. iv. p. 72; and, above all,

Palgrave's Normandy and England.]

The interest of this eventful struggle, by which William of Normandy

became King of England, is materially enhanced by the high personal

characters of the competitors for our crown. They were three in number.

One was a foreign prince from the North. One was a foreign prince from

the South: and one was a native hero of the land. Harald Hardrada, the

strongest and the most chivalric of the kings of Norway, was the first;

[See in Snerre the Saga of Harald Hardrada.] Duke William of Normandy

was the second; and the Saxon Harold, the son of Earl Godwin, was the

third. Never was a nobler prize sought by nobler champions, or striven

for more gallantly. The Saxon triumphed over the Norwegian, and the

Norman triumphed over the Saxon: but Norse valour was never more

conspicuous than when Harald Hardrada and his host fought and fell at

Stamford Bridge; nor did Saxons ever face their foes more bravely than

our Harold and his men on the fatal day of Hastings.

During the reign of King Edward the Confessor over this land, the claims

of the Norwegian king to our Crown were little thought of; and though

Hardrada's predecessor, King Magnus of Norway had on one occasion

asserted that, by virtue of a compact with our former king, Hardicanute,

he was entitled to the English throne, no serious attempt had been made

to enforce his pretensions. But the rivalry of the Saxon Harold and

the Norman William was foreseen and bewailed by the Confessor, who was

believed to have predicted on his death-bed the calamities that were

pending over England. Duke William was King Edward's kinsman. Harold was

the head of the most powerful noble house, next to the royal blood, in

England; and personally, he was the bravest and most popular chieftain

in the land. King Edward was childless, and the nearest collateral heir

was a puny unpromising boy. England had suffered too severely during

royal minorities, to make the accession of Edgar Atheling desirable; and

long before King Edward's death, Earl Harold was the destined king of

the nation's choice, though the favour of the Confessor was believed to

lean towards the Norman duke.

A little time before the death of King Edward, Harold was in Normandy.

The causes of the voyage of the Saxon earl to the continent are

doubtful; but the fact of his having been, in 1065, at the ducal court,

and in the power of his rival, is indisputable. William made skilful

and unscrupulous use of the opportunity. Though Harold was treated

with outward courtesy and friendship, he was made fully aware that his

liberty and life depended on his compliance with the Duke's requests.

William said to him, in apparent confidence and cordiality, "When King

Edward and I once lived like brothers under the same roof, he promised

that if ever he became King of England, he would make me heir to his

throne. Harold, I wish that thou wouldst assist me to realize this

promise." Harold replied with expressions of assent: and further agreed,

at William's request, to marry William's daughter Adela, and to send

over his own sister to be married to one of William's barons. The crafty

Norman was not content with this extorted promise; he determined to bind

Harold by a more solemn pledge, which if broken, would be a weight on

the spirit of the gallant Saxon, and a discouragement to others from

adopting his cause. Before a full assembly of the Norman barons, Harold

was required to do homage to Duke William, as the heir-apparent of the

English crown. Kneeling down, Harold placed his hands between those of

the Duke, and repeated the solemn form, by which he acknowledged the

Duke as his lord, and promised to him fealty and true service. But

William exacted more. He had caused all the bones and relics of saints,

that were preserved in the Norman monasteries and churches, to be

collected into a chest, which was placed in the council-room, covered

over with a cloth of gold. On the chest of relics, which were thus

concealed, was laid a missal. The Duke then solemnly addressed his

titular guest and real captive, and said to him, "Harold, I require

thee, before this noble assembly, to confirm by oath the promises which

thou hast made me, to assist me in obtaining the crown of England after

King Edward's death, to marry my daughter Adela, and to send me thy

sister, that I may give her in marriage to one of my barons." Harold,

once more taken by surprise, and not able to deny his former words,

approached the missal, and laid his hand on it, not knowing that the

chest of relics was beneath. The old Norman chronicler, who describes

the scene most minutely, [Wace, Roman de Rou. I have nearly followed his

words.] says, when Harold placed his hand on it, the hand trembled, and

the flesh quivered; but he swore, and promised upon his oath, to

take Ele [Adela] to wife, and to deliver up England to the Duke, and

thereunto to do all in his power, according to his might and wit, after

the death of Edward, if he himself should live: so help him God. Many

cried, "God grant it!" and when Harold rose from his knees, the Duke

made him stand close to the chest, and took off the pall that had

covered it, and showed Harold upon what holy relics he had sworn; and

Harold was sorely alarmed at the sight.

Harold was soon, after this permitted to return to England; and, after a

short interval, during which he distinguished himself by the wisdom

and humanity with which he pacified some formidable tumults of the

Anglo-Danes in Northumbria, he found himself called on to decide whether

he would keep the oath which the Norman had obtained from him, or mount

the vacant throne of England in compliance with the nation's choice.

King Edward the Confessor died on the 5th of January, 1066, and on the

following day an assembly of the thanes and prelates present in London,

and of the citizens of-the metropolis, declared that Harold should be

their king. It was reported that the dying Edward had nominated him as

his successor; but the sense which his countrymen entertained of his

pre-eminent merit was the true foundation of his title to the crown.

Harold resolved to disregard the oath which he made in Normandy, as

violent and void, and on the 7th day of that January he was anointed

King of England, and received from the archbishop's hands the golden

crown and sceptre of England, and also an ancient national symbol, a

weighty battle-axe. He had deep and speedy need of this significant

part of the insignia of Saxon royalty.

A messenger from Normandy soon arrived to remind Harold of the oath

which he had sworn to the Duke "with his mouth, and his hand upon good

and holy relics." "It is true," replied the Saxon king, "that I took an

oath to William; but I took it under constraint: I promised what did

not belong to me--what I could not in any way hold: my royalty is not my

own; I could not lay it down against the will of the country, nor can I

against the will of the country take a foreign wife. As for my sister,

whom the Duke claims that he may marry her to one of his chiefs, she has

died within the year; would he have me send her corpse?"

William sent another message, which met with a similar answer; and then

the Duke published far and wide through Christendom what he termed the

perjury and bad faith of his rival; and proclaimed his intention of

asserting his rights by the sword before the year should expire, and

of pursuing and punishing the perjurer even in those places where he

thought he stood most strongly and most securely.

Before, however, he commenced hostilities, William, with deep laid

policy submitted his claims to the decision of the Pope. Harold refused

to acknowledge this tribunal, or to answer before an Italian priest for

his title as an English king. After a formal examination of William's

complaints by the Pope and the cardinals, it was solemnly adjudged at

Rome that England belonged to the Norman duke; and a banner was sent to

William from the holy see, which the Pope himself had consecrated and

blessed for the invasion of this island. The clergy throughout the

continent were now assiduous and energetic in preaching up William's

enterprise as undertaken in the cause of God. Besides these spiritual

arms (the effect of which in the eleventh century must not be measured

by the philosophy or the indifferentism of the nineteenth), the Norman

duke applied all the energies of his mind and body, all the resources of

his duchy, and all the influence he possessed among vassals or allies,

to the collection of "the most remarkable and formidable armament which

the Western nations had witnessed." [Sir James Mackintosh's History

of England, vol. i. p. 97.] All the adventurous spirits of Christendom

flocked to the holy banner, under which Duke William, the most renowned

knight and sagest general of the age, promised to lead them to glory

and wealth in the fair domains of England. His army was filled with

the chivalry of continental Europe, all eager to save their souls by

fighting at the Pope's bidding, ardent to signalise their valour in so

great an enterprise, and longing also for the pay and the plunder which

William liberally promised. But the Normans themselves were the pith

and the flower of the army; and William himself was the strongest, the

sagest, and fiercest spirit of them all.

Throughout the spring and summer of 1066, all the seaports of Normandy,

Picardy, and Brittany rang with the busy sound of preparation. On the

opposite side of the Channel, King Harold collected the army and the

fleet with which he hoped to crush the southern invaders. But the

unexpected attack of King Harald Hardrada of Norway upon another part

of England, disconcerted the skilful measures which the Saxon had taken

against the menacing armada of Duke William.

Harold's renegade brother, Earl Tostig, had excited the Norse king to

this enterprise, the importance of which has naturally been eclipsed

by the superior interest attached to the victorious expedition of Duke

William, but which was on a scale of grandeur which the Scandinavian

ports had rarely, if ever, before witnessed. Hardrada's fleet consisted

of two hundred war-ships, and three hundred other vessels, and all

the best warriors of Norway were in his host. He sailed first to the

Orkneys, where many of the islanders joined him, and then to Yorkshire.

After a severe conflict near York, he completely routed Earls Edwin and

Morcar, the governors of Northumbria. The city of York opened its gates,

and all the country, from the Tyne to the Humber, submitted to him. The

tidings of the defeat of Edwin and Morcar compelled Harold to leave

his position an the southern coast, and move instantly against the

Norwegians. By a remarkably rapid, march, he reached Yorkshire in

four days, and took the Norse king and his confederates by surprise.

Nevertheless, the battle which ensued, and which was fought near

Stamford Bridge, was desperate, and was long doubtful. Unable to break

the ranks of the Norwegian phalanx by force, Harold at length tempted

them to quit their close order by a pretended flight. Then the English

columns burst in among them, and a carnage ensued, the extent of which

may be judged of by the exhaustion and inactivity of Norway for a

quarter of a century afterwards. King Harald Hardrada, and all the

flower of his nobility, perished on the 25th of September, 1066, at

Stamford Bridge; a battle which was a Flodden to Norway.

Harold's victory was splendid; but he had bought it dearly by the fall

of many of his best officers and men; and still more dearly by the

opportunity which Duke William had gained of effecting an unopposed

landing on the Sussex coast. The whole of William's shipping had

assembled at the mouth of the Dive, a little river between the Seine

and the Orme, as early as the middle of August. The army which he had

collected, amounted to fifty thousand knights, and ten thousand soldiers

of inferior degree. Many of the knights were mounted, but many must have

served on foot; as it is hardly possible to believe that William could

have found transports for the conveyance of fifty thousand war-horses

across the Channel. For a long time the winds were adverse; and the Duke

employed the interval that passed before he could set sail in completing

the organization and in improving the discipline of his army; which he

seems to have brought into the same state of perfection, as was seven

centuries and a half afterwards the boast of another army assembled on

the same coast, and which Napoleon designed (but providentially in vain)

for a similar descent upon England.

It was not till the approach of the equinox that the wind veered from

the north-east to the west, and gave the Normans an opportunity of

quitting the weary shores of the Dive. They eagerly embarked, and set

sail; but the wind soon freshened to a gale, and drove them along

the French coast to St. Valery, where the greater part of them found

shelter; but many of their vessels were wrecked and the whole coast of

Normandy was strewn with the bodies of the drowned. William's army

began to grow discouraged and averse to the enterprise, which the very

elements thus seemed to fight against; though in reality the north-east

wind which had cooped them so long at the mouth of the Dive, and the

western gale which had forced them into St. Valery, were the best

possible friends to the invaders. They prevented the Normans from

crossing the Channel until the Saxon king and his army of defence had

been called away from the Sussex coast to encounter Harald Hardrada

in Yorkshire: and also until a formidable English fleet, which by

King Harold's orders had been cruising in the Channel to intercept the

Normans, had been obliged to disperse temporarily for the purpose of

refitting and taking in fresh stores of provisions.

Duke William used every expedient to re-animate the drooping spirits

of his men at St. Valery; and at last he caused the body of the patron

saint of the place to be exhumed and carried in solemn procession, while

the whole assemblage of soldiers, mariners, and appurtenant priests

implored the saint's intercession for a change of wind. That very night

the wind veered, and enabled the mediaeval Agamemnon to quit his Aulia.

With full sails, and a following southern breeze, the Norman armada

left the French shores and steered for England. The invaders crossed an

undefended sea, and found an undefended coast. It was in Pevensey Bay

in Sussex, at Bulverhithe, between the castle of Pevensey and Hastings,

that the last conquerors of this island landed, on the 29th of

September, 1066.

Harold was at York, rejoicing over his recent victory, which had

delivered England from her ancient Scandinavian foes, and resettling the

government of the counties which Harald Hardrada had overrun, when

the tidings reached him that Duke William of Normandy and his host had

landed on the Sussex shore. Harold instantly hurried southward to meet

this long-expected enemy. The severe loss which his army had sustained

in the battle with the Norwegians must have made it impossible for any

large number of veteran troops to accompany him in his forced march to

London, and thence to Sussex. He halted at the capital only six days;

and during that time gave orders for collecting forces from his southern

and midland counties, and also directed his fleet to reassemble off the

Sussex coast. Harold was well received in London, and his summons to

arms was promptly obeyed by citizen, by thane, by sokman, and by ceorl;

for he had shown himself during his brief reign a just and wise king,

affable to all men, active for the good of his country, and (in the

words of the old historian) sparing himself from no fatigue by land or

sea. [See Roger de Hoveden and William of Malmesbury, cited in Thierry,

book iii.] He might have gathered a much more numerous force than that

of William, but his recent victory had made, him over-confident, and

he was irritated by the reports of the country being ravaged by the

invaders. As soon therefore, as he had collected a small army in London,

he marched off towards the coast: pressing forward as rapidly as his

men could traverse Surrey and Sussex in the hope of taking the Normans

unawares, as he had recently by a similar forced march succeeded in

surprising the Norwegians. But he had now to deal with a foe equally

brave with Harald Hardrada, and far more skilful and wary.

The old Norman chroniclers describe the preparations of William on

his landing, with a graphic vigour, which would be wholly lost by

transfusing their racy Norman couplets and terse Latin prose into the

current style of modern history. It is best to follow them closely,

though at the expense of much quaintness and occasional uncouthness of

expression. They tell us how Duke William's own ship was the first

of the Norman fleet. "It was called the Mora, and was the gift of his

duchess, Matilda. On the head of the ship in the front, which mariners

call the prow, there was a brazen child bearing an arrow with a bended

bow. His face was turned towards England, and thither he looked, as

though he was about to shoot. The breeze became soft and sweet, and the

sea was smooth for their landing. The ships ran on dry land, and each

ranged by the other's side. There you might see the good sailors,

the sergeants, and squires sally forth and unload the ships; cast the

anchors, haul the ropes, bear out shields and saddles, and land the

war-horses and palfreys. The archers came forth, and touched land the

first, each with his bow strong and with his quiver full of arrows,

slung at his side. All were shaven and shorn; and all clad in short

garments, ready to attack, to shoot, to wheel about and skirmish. All

stood well equipped, and of good courage for the fight; and they scoured

the whole shore, but found not an armed man there. After the archers had

thus gone forth, the knights landed all armed, with their hauberks on,

their shields slung at their necks, and their helmets laced. They formed

together on the shore, each armed, and mounted on his war-horse: all

had their swords girded on, and rode forward into the country with their

lances raised. Then the carpenters landed, who had great axes in their

hands, and planes and adzes hung at their sides. They took counsel

together, and sought for a good spot to place a castle on. They had

brought with them in the fleet, three wooden castles from Normandy, in

pieces, all ready for framing together, and they took the materials of

one of these out of the ships, all shaped and pierced to receive the

pins which they had brought cut and ready in large barrels; and before

evening had set in, they had finished a good fort on the English ground,

and there they placed their stores. All then ate and drank enough, and

were right glad that they were ashore.

"When Duke William himself landed, as he stepped on the shore, he

slipped and fell forward upon his two hands. Forthwith all raised a loud

cry of distress. 'An evil sign,' said they, 'is here.' But he cried out

lustily, 'See, my lords! by the splendour of God, [William's customary

oath.] I have taken possession of England with both my hands. It is now

mine; and what is mine is yours.'

"The next day they marched along the sea-shore to Hastings. Near

that place the Duke fortified a camp, and set up the two other wooden

castles. The foragers, and those who looked out for booty, seized all

the clothing and provisions they could find, lest what had been brought

by the ships should fail them. And the English were to be seen fleeing

before them, driving off their cattle, and quitting their houses. Many

took shelter in burying-places, and even there they were in grievous

alarm."

Besides the marauders from the Norman camp, strong bodies of cavalry

were detached by William into the country, and these, when Harold and

his army made their rapid march from London southward, fell, back in

good order upon the main body of the Normans, and reported that the

Saxon king was rushing on like a madman. But Harold, when he found that

his hopes of surprising his adversary were vain changed his tactics, and

halted about seven miles from the Norman lines. He sent some spies, who

spoke the French language, to examine the number and preparations of the

enemy, who, on their return, related with astonishment that there were

more priests in William's camp than there were fighting men in the

English army. They had mistaken for priests all the Norman soldiers

who had short hair and shaven chins; for the English layman were then

accustomed to wear long hair and mustachios, Harold, who knew the Norman

usages, smiled at their words and said, "Those whom you have seen in

such numbers are not priests, but stout soldiers, as they will soon make

us feel."

Harold's army was far inferior in number to that of the Normans, and

some of his captains advised him to retreat upon London, and lay waste

the country, so as to starve down the strength, of the invaders. The

policy thus recommended was unquestionably the wisest; for the Saxon

fleet had now reassembled, and intercepted all William's communications

with Normandy; so that as soon as his stores of provisions were

exhausted he must have moved forward upon London; where Harold, at the

head of the full military strength of the kingdom, could have defied his

assault, and probably might have witnessed his rival's destruction by

famine and disease, without having to strike a single blow. But Harold's

bold blood was up, and his kindly heart could not endure to inflict

on his South Saxon subjects even the temporary misery of wasting the

country. "He would not burn houses and villages, neither would he take

away the substance of his people."

Harold's brothers, Gurth and Leofwine, were with him in the camp, and

Gurth endeavoured to persuade him to absent himself from the battle.

The incident shows how well devised had been William's scheme of binding

Harold by the oath on the holy relics. "My brother", said the young

Saxon prince, "thou canst not deny that either by force or free-will

thou hast made Duke William an oath on the bodies of saints. Why then

risk thyself in the battle with a perjury upon thee? To us, who have

sworn nothing, this is a holy and a just war, for we are fighting for

our country. Leave us then, alone to fight this battle, and he who has

the right will win." Harold replied that he would not look on while

others risked their lives for him. Men would hold him a coward, and

blame him for sending his best friends where he dared not go himself. He

resolved, therefore, to fight, and to fight in person: but he was still

too good a general to be the assailant in the action. He strengthened

his position on the hill where he had halted, by a palisade of stakes

interlaced with osier hurdles, and there, he said, he would defend

himself against whoever should seek him.

The ruins of Battle Abbey at this hour attest the place where Harold's

army was posted. The high altar of the abbey stood on the very spot

where Harold's own standard was planted during the fight, and where the

carnage was the thickest. Immediately after his victory William vowed to

build an abbey on the site; and a fair and stately pile soon rose there,

where for many ages the monks prayed, and said masses for the souls

of those who were slain in the battle, whence the abbey took its name.

Before that time the place was called Senlac. Little of the ancient

edifice now remains: but it is easy to trace among its relics and in the

neighbourhood the scenes of the chief incidents in the action; and it

is impossible to deny the generalship shown by Harold in stationing his

men; especially when we bear in mind that he was deficient in cavalry,

the arm in which his adversary's main strength consisted.

A neck of hills trends inwards for nearly seven miles from the high

ground immediately to the north-east of Hastings. The line of this neck

of hills is from south-east to north-west, and the usual route from

Hastings to London must, in ancient as in modern times, have been along

its summits. At the distance from Hastings which has been mentioned, the

continuous chain of hills ceases. A valley must be crossed, and on the

other side of it, opposite to the last of the neck of hills, rises a

high ground of some extent, facing to the south-east. This high ground,

then termed Senlac, was occupied by Harold's army. It could not be

attacked in front without considerable disadvantage to the assailants,

and could hardly be turned without those engaged in the manoeuvre

exposing themselves to a fatal charge in flank, while they wound round

the base of the height, and underneath the ridges which project from

it on either side. There was a rough and thickly-wooded district in the

rear, which seemed to offer Harold great facilities for rallying his

men, and checking the progress of the enemy, if they should succeed in

forcing him back from his post. And it seemed scarcely possible that the

Normans, if they met with any repulse, could save themselves from utter

destruction. With such hopes and expectations (which cannot be termed

unreasonable, though "Successum Dea dira negavit,") King Harold bade his

standard be set up a little way down the slope of Senlac-hill, at the

point where the ascent from the valley was least steep, and on which the

fiercest attacks of the advancing enemy were sure to be directed.

The foundation-stones of the high altar of Battle Abbey have, during

late years, been discovered; and we may place our feet on the very spot

where Harold stood with England's banner waving over him; where, when

the battle was joined, he defended himself to the utmost; where the

fatal arrow came down on him; where he "leaned in agony on his shield;"

and where at last he was beaten to the earth, and with him the Saxon

banner was beaten down, like him never to rise again. The ruins of

the altar are a little to the west of the high road, which leads from

Hastings along the neck of hills already described, across the valley,

and through the modern town of Battle, towards London. Before a railway

was made along this valley, some of the old local features were more

easy than now to recognise. The eye then at once saw that the ascent

from the valley was least steep at the point which Harold selected

for his own post in the engagement. But this is still sufficiently

discernible; and we can fix the spot, a little lower down the slope,

immediately in front of the high altar, where the brave Kentish men

stood, "whose right it was to strike first when ever the king went to

battle," and who, therefore, were placed where the Normans would be most

likely to make their first charge. Round Harold himself, and where the

plantations wave which now surround the high altar's ruins, stood the

men of London, "whose privilege it was to guard the king's body, to

place themselves around it, and to guard his standard." On the right

and left were ranged the other warriors of central and southern

England, whose shires the old Norman chronicler distorts in his French

nomenclature. Looking thence in the direction of Hastings, we can

distinguish the "ridge of the rising ground over which the Normans

appeared advancing." It is the nearest of the neck of hills. It is along

that hill that Harold and his brothers saw approach in succession the

three divisions of the Norman army. The Normans came down that slope,

and then formed in the valley, so as to assault the whole front of the

English position. Duke William's own division, with "the best men and

greatest strength of the army," made the Norman centre, and charged the

English immediately in front of Harold's banner, as the nature of the

ground had led the Saxon king to anticipate.

There are few battles the localities of which can be more completely

traced; and the whole scene is fraught with associations of deep

interest: but the spot which, most of all, awakens our sympathy and

excites our feelings, is that where Harold himself fought and fell. The

crumbling fragments of the grey altar-stones, with the wild flowers that

cling around their base, seem fitting memorials of the brave Saxon who

there bowed his head in death; while the laurel-trees that are planted

near, and wave over the ruins, remind us of the Conqueror, who there, at

the close of that dreadful day, reared his victorious standard high over

the trampled banner of the Saxon, and held his triumphant carousal amid

the corses of the slain, with his Norman chivalry exulting around him.

When it was known in the invaders' camp at Hastings that King Harold had

marched southward with his power, but a brief interval ensued before the

two hosts met in decisive encounter.

William's only chance of safety lay in bringing on a general engagement;

and he joyfully advanced his army from their camp on the hill over

Hastings, nearer to the Saxon position. But he neglected no means of

weakening his opponent, and renewed his summonses and demands on Harold

with an ostentatious air of sanctity and moderation.

"A monk named Hugues Maigrot came in William's name to call upon the

Saxon king to do one of three things--either to resign his royalty in

favour of William, or to refer it to the arbitration of the Pope to

decide which of the two ought to be king, or to let it be determined

by the issue of a single combat. Harold abruptly replied, 'I will not

resign my title, I will not refer it to the Pope, nor will I accept the

single combat.' He was far from being deficient in bravery; but he was

no more at liberty to stake the crown which he had received from a whole

people on the chance of a duel, than to deposit it in the hands of an

Italian priest. William was not at all ruffled by the Saxon's refusal,

but steadily pursuing the course of his calculated measures, sent the

Norman monk again, after giving him these instructions:--'Go and tell

Harold, that if he will keep his former compact with me, I will leave

to him all the country which is beyond the Humber, and will give his

brother Gurth all the lands which Godwin held. If he still persist in

refusing my offers, then thou shalt tell him, before all his people,

that he is a perjurer and a liar; that he, and all who shall support

him, are excommunicated by the mouth of the Pope; and that the bull to

that effect is in my hands.'

"Hugues Maigrot delivered this message in a solemn tone; and the Norman

chronicle says that at the word EXCOMMUNICATION, the English chiefs

looked at one another as if some great danger were impending. One of

them then spoke as follows: 'We must fight, whatever may be the danger

to us; for what we have to consider is not whether we shall accept

and receive a new lord as if our king were dead: the case is quite

otherwise. The Norman has given our lands to his captains, to his

knights, to all his people, the greater part of whom have already done

homage to him for them; they will all look for their gift, if their

Duke become our king; and he himself is bound to deliver up to them our

goods, our wives, and our daughters: all is promised to them beforehand.

They come, not only to ruin us, but to ruin our descendants also, and to

take from us the country of our ancestors and what shall we do--whither

shall we go--when we have no longer a country?' The English promised by

a unanimous oath, to make neither peace, nor truce nor treaty, with the

invader, but to die, or drive away the Normans." [Thierry.]

The 13th of October was occupied in these negotiations; and at night the

Duke announced to his men that the next day would, be the day of

battle. That night is said to have been passed by the two armies in very

different manners. The Saxon soldiers spent it in joviality, singing

their national songs, and draining huge horns of ale and wine round

their camp-fires. The Normans, when they had looked to their arms and

horses, confessed themselves to the priests, with whom their camp was

thronged, and received the sacrament by thousands at a time.

On Saturday, the 14th of October, was fought the great battle.

It is not difficult to compose a narrative of its principal incidents,

from the historical information which we possess, especially if aided

by an examination of the ground. But it is far better to adopt the

spirit-stirring words of the old chroniclers, who wrote while the

recollections of the battle were yet fresh, and while the feelings and

prejudices of the combatants yet glowed in the bosoms of their near

descendants. Robert Wace, the Norman poet, who presented his "Roman de

Rou" to our Henry II., is the most picturesque and animated of the old

writers; and from him we can obtain a more vivid and full description of

the conflict, than even the most brilliant romance-writer of the present

time can supply. We have also an antique memorial of the battle, more to

be relied on than either chronicler or poet (and which confirms

Wace's narrative remarkably), in the celebrated Bayeux tapestry, which

represents the principal scenes of Duke William's expedition, and of the

circumstances connected with it, in minute though occasionally grotesque

details, and which was undoubtedly the production of the same age in

which the battle took place; whether we admit or reject the legend that

Queen Matilda and the ladies of her court wrought it with their own

hands in honour of the royal Conqueror.

Let us therefore suffer the old Norman chronicler to transport our

imaginations to the fair Sussex scenery, north-west of Hastings, with

its breezy uplands, its grassy slopes, and ridges of open down swelling

inland from the sparkling sea, its scattered copses, and its denser

glades of intervening forests, clad in all the varied tints of autumn,

as they appeared on the morning of the fourteenth of October, seven

hundred and eighty-five years ago. The Norman host is pouring forth

from its tents; and each troop, and each company, is forming fast under

the banner of its leader. The masses have been sung, which were finished

betimes in the morning; the barons have all assembled round Duke

William; and the Duke has ordered that the army shall be formed in three

divisions, so as to make the attack upon the Saxon position in three

places. The Duke stood on a hill where he could best see his men; the

barons surrounded him, and he spake to them proudly. He told them how he

trusted them, and how all that he gained should be theirs; and how sure

he felt of conquest, for in all the world there was not so brave an army

or such good men and true as were then forming around him. Then they

cheered him in turn, and cried out, "'You will not see one coward; none

here will fear to die for love of you, if need be.' And he answered

them, 'I thank you well. For God's sake spare not; strike hard at the

beginning; stay not to take spoil; all the booty shall be in common,

and there will be plenty for everyone. There will be no safety in asking

quarter or in fight: the English will never love or spare a Norman.

Felons they were, and felons they are; false they were, and false they

will be. Show no weakness towards them, for they will have no pity on

you. Neither the coward for running well, nor the bold man for smiting

well, will be the better liked by the English, nor will any be the more

spared on either account. You may fly to the sea, but you can fly no

further; you will find neither ships nor bridge there; there will be no

sailors to receive you; and the English will overtake you there and slay

you in your shame. More of you will die in flight than in the battle.

Then, as flight will not secure you, fight, and you will conquer. I have

no doubt of the victory: we are come for glory, the victory is in our

hands, and we may make sure of obtaining it if we so please.' As the

Duke was speaking thus, and would yet have spoken more, William Fitz

Osber rode up with his horse all coated with iron: 'Sire,' said he, 'we

tarry here too long, let us all arm ourselves. ALLONS! ALLONS!'

"Then all went to their tents and armed themselves as they best might;

and the Duke was very busy, giving every one his orders; and he was

courteous to all the vassals, giving away many arms and horses to them.

When he prepared to arm himself, he called first for his good hauberk,

and a man brought it on his arm, and placed it before him, but in

putting his head in, to get it on, he unawares turned it the wrong way,

with the back part in front. He soon changed it, but when he saw that

those who stood by were sorely alarmed, he said, 'I have seen many a man

who, if such a thing had happened to him, would not have borne arms,

or entered the field the same day; but I never believed in omens, and I

never will. I trust in God, for He does in all things His pleasure, and

ordains what is to come to pass, according to His will. I have never

liked fortune-tellers, nor believed in diviners; but I commend myself to

our Lady. Let not this mischance give you trouble. The hauberk which

was turned wrong, and then set right by me, signifies that a change will

arise out of the matter which we are now stirring. You shall see the

name of duke changed into king. Yea, a king shall I be, who hitherto

have been but duke.' Then he crossed himself and straightway took his

hauberk, stooped his head, and put it on aright, and laced his helmet,

and girt on his sword, which a varlet brought him. Then the Duke called

for his good horse--a better could not be found. It had been sent him

by a king of Spain, out of very great friendship. Neither arms nor the

press of fighting men did it fear, if its lord spurred it on. Walter

Giffard brought it. The Duke stretched out his hand, took the reins, put

foot in stirrup, and mounted; and the good horse pawed, pranced, reared

himself up, and curvetted. The Viscount of Toarz saw how the Duke bore

himself in arms, and said to his people that were around him, 'Never

have I seen a man so fairly armed, nor one who rods so gallantly, or

bore his arms or became his hauberk so well; neither any one who bore

his lance so gracefully, or sat his horse and managed him so nobly.

There is no such knight under heaven! a fair count he is, and fair king

he will be. Let him fight, and he shall overcome: shame be to the man

who shall fail him.'

"Then the Duke called for the standard which the Pope had sent him, and

he who bore it having unfolded it, the Duke took it, and, called to Raol

de Conches. 'Bear my standard,' said he, 'for I would not but do you

right; by right and by ancestry your line are standard-bearers of

Normandy, and very good knights have they all been.' But Raol said that

he would serve the Duke that day in other guise, and would fight the

English with his hand as long as life should last. Then the Duke bade

Galtier Giffart bear the standard. But he was old and white-headed,

and bade the Duke give the standard to some younger and stronger man to

carry. Then the Duke said fiercely, 'By the splendour of God, my lords,

I think you mean to betray and fail me in this great need.'--'Sire,'

said Giffart, 'not so! we have done no treason, nor do I refuse from any

felony towards you; but I have to lead a great chivalry, both hired men

and the men of my fief. Never had I such good means of serving you as

I now have; and if God please, I will serve you; if need be, I will die

for you, and will give my own heart for yours.

"'By my faith,' quoth the Duke, 'I always loved thee, and now I love

thee more; if I survive this day, thou shalt be the better for it all

thy days.' Then he called out a knight, whom he had heard much praised,

Tosteins Fitz-Rou le Blanc by name, whose abode was at Bec-en-Caux. To

him he delivered the standard; and Tosteins took it right cheerfully,

and bowed low to him in thanks, and bore it gallantly, and with good

heart. His kindred still have quittance of all service for their

inheritance on that account, and their heirs are entitled so to hold

their inheritance for ever.

"William sat on his war-horse, and called on Rogier, whom they call De

Mongomeri. 'I rely much upon you,' said he: 'lead your men thitherward,

and attack them from that side. William, the son of Osber the seneschal,

a right good vassal, shall go with you and help in the attack, and you

shall have the men of Boulogne and Poix, and all my soldiers. Alain

Fergert and Ameri shall attack on the other side; they shall lead the

Poitevins and the Bretons, and all the Barons of Maine; and I, with my

own great men, my friends and kindred, will fight in the middle throng,

where the battle shall be the hottest.'

"The barons, and knights, and men-at-arms were all now armed; the

foot-soldiers were well equipped, each bearing bow and sword; on their

heads were caps, and to their feet were bound buskins. Some had good

hides which they had bound round their bodies; and many were clad in

frocks, and had quivers and bows hung to their girdles. The knights

had hauberks and swords, boots of steel and shining helmets; shields at

their necks, and in their hands lances. And all had their cognizances,

so that each might know his fellow, and Norman might not strike Norman,

nor Frenchman kill his countryman by mistake. Those on foot led the

way, with serried ranks, bearing their bows. The knights rode next,

supporting the archers from behind. Thus both horse and foot kept their

course and order of march as they began; in close ranks at a gentle

pace, that the one might not pass or separate from the other. All went

firmly and compactly, bearing themselves gallantly.

"Harold had summoned his men, earls, barons, and vavassours, from, the

castles and the cities; from the ports, the villages, and boroughs. The

peasants were also called together from the villages, bearing such arms

as they found; clubs and great picks, iron forge and stages. The English

had enclosed the place where Harold was, with his friends and the barons

of the country whom he had summoned and called together.

"Those of London had come at once, and those of Kent, Hartfort, and of

Essesse; those of Suree and Susesse, of St. Edmund and Sufoc; of Norwis

and Norfoc; of Cantorbierre and Stanfort Bedefort and Hundetone. The men

of Northanton also came; and those of Eurowic and Bokingkeham, of Bed

and Notinkeham, Lindesie and Nichole. There came also from the west

all, who heard the summons; and very many were to be seen coming from

Salebiere and Dorset, from Bat and from Somerset. Many came, too, from

about Glocestre, and many from Wirecestre, from Wincestre, Hontesire,

and Brichesire; and many more from other counties that we have not

named, and cannot indeed recount. All who could bear arms, and had

learnt the news of the Duke's arrival, came to defend the land. But none

came from beyond Humbre, for they had other business upon their hands;

the Danes and Tosti having much damaged and weakened them.

"Harold knew that the Normans would come and attack him hand to hand; so

he had early enclosed the field in which he placed his men. He made them

arm early, and range themselves for the battle; he himself having put on

arms and equipments that became such a lord. The Duke, he said, ought

to seek him, as he wanted to conquer England; and it became him to abide

the attack who had to defend the land. He commanded the people,

and counselled his barons to keep themselves altogether, and defend

themselves in a body; for if they once separated, they would with

difficulty recover themselves. 'The Normans,' he said, 'are good

vassals, valiant on foot and on horseback; good knights are they on

horseback, and well used to battle; all is lost if they once penetrate

our ranks. They have brought long lances and swords, but you have

pointed lances and keen-edged bills; and I do not expect that their arms

can stand against yours. Cleave wherever you can; it will be ill done if

you spare aught.'

"The English had built up a fence before them with their shields, and

with ash and other wood; and had well joined and wattled in the whole

work, so as not to leave even a crevice; and thus they had a barricade

in their front, through which any Norman who would attack them must

first pass. Being covered in this way by their shields and barricades,

their aim was to defend themselves: and if they had remained steady for

that purpose, they would not have been conquered that day; for every

Norman who made his way in, lost his life, either by hatchet, or bill,

by club, or other weapons. They wore short and close hauberks, and

helmets that hung over their garments. King Harold issued orders and

made proclamation round, that all should be ranged with their faces

towards the enemy; and that no one should move from where he was; so

that, whoever came, might find them ready; and that whatever any one, be

he Norman or other, should do, each should do his best to defend his

own place. Then he ordered the men of Kent to go where the Normans

were likely to make the attack; for they say that the men of Kent are

entitled to strike first; and that whenever the king goes to battle, the

first blow belongs to them. The right of the men of London is to guard

the king's body, to place themselves around him, and to guard his

standard; and they were accordingly placed by the standard to watch and

defend it.

"When Harold had made his reply, and given his orders, he came into

the midst of the English, and dismounted by the side of the standard:

Leofwin and Gurth, his brothers, were with him, and around him he had

barons enough, as he stood by his standard, which was in truth a noble

one, sparkling with gold and precious stones. After the victory, William

sent it to the Pope, to prove and commemorate his great conquest and

glory. The English stood in close ranks, ready and eager for the fight;

and they moreover made a fosse, which went across the field, guarding

one side of their army,

"Meanwhile the Normans appeared advancing over the ridge of a rising

ground; and the first division of their troops moved onwards along the

hill and across a vallley. And presently another division, still larger,

came in sight, close following upon the first, and they were led towards

another part of the field, forming together as the first body had done.

And while Harold saw and examined them, and was pointing them out to

Gurth, a fresh company came in sight, covering all the plain; and in the

midst of them was raised the standard that came from Rome. Near it was

the Duke, and the best men and greatest strength of the army were there.

The good knights, the good vassals, and brave warriors were there; and

there were gathered together the gentle barons, the good archers,

and the men-at-arms, whose duty it was to guard the Duke, and range

themselves around him. The youths and common herd of the camp, whose

business was not to join in the battle, but to take care of the harness

and stores, moved on towards a rising ground. The priests and the clerks

also ascended a hill, there to offer up prayers to God, and watch the

event of the battle.

"The English stood firm on foot in close ranks, and carried themselves

right boldly. Each man had his hauberk on, with his sword girt, and his

shield at his neck. Great hatchets were also slung at their necks, with

which they expected to strike heavy blows.

"The Normans brought on the three divisions of their army to attack

at different places. They set out in three companies, and in three

companies did they fight. The first and second had come up, and then

advanced the third, which was the greatest; with that came the Duke with

his own men, and all moved boldly forward.

"As soon as the two armies were in full view of each other, great noise

and tumult arose. You might hear the sound of many trumpets, of bugles,

and of horns: and then you might see men ranging themselves in line,

lifting their shields, raising their lances, bending their bows,

handling their arrows, ready for assault and defence.

"The English stood ready to their post, the Normans still moved on; and

when they drew near, the English were to be seen stirring to and fro;

were going and coming; troops ranging themselves in order; some with

their colour rising, others turning pale; some making ready their arms,

others raising their shields; the brave man rousing himself to fight,

the coward trembling at the approach of danger.

"Then Taillefer, who sang right well, rode mounted on a swift horse,

before the Duke, singing of Charlemagne and of Roland, of Olivier and

the Peers who died in Roncesvalles, and when they drew nigh to the

English, 'A boon, sire!' cried Taillefer; 'I have long served you, and

you owe me for all such service. To-day, so please you, you shall repay

it. I ask as my guerdon, and beseech you for it earnestly, that you will

allow me to strike the first blow in the battle!' And the Duke answered,

'I grant it.' Then Taillefer put his horse to a gallop, charging before

all the rest, and struck an Englishman dead, driving his lance below the

breast into his body, and stretching him upon the ground. Then he drew

his sword, and struck another, crying out, 'Come on, come on! What do

ye, sirs! lay on, lay on!' At the second blow he struck, the English

pushed forward, and surrounded and slew him. Forthwith arose the noise

and cry of war, and on either side the people put themselves in motion.

"The Normans moved on to the assault, and the English defended

themselves well. Some were striking, others urging onwards; all were

bold, and cast aside fear. And now, behold, that battle was gathered,

whereof the fame is yet mighty.

"Loud and far resounded the bray of the horns; and the shocks of the

lances, the mighty strokes of maces, and the quick clashing of swords.

One while the Englishmen rushed on, another while they fell back; one

while the men from over the sea charged onwards, and again at other

times retreated. The Normans shouted 'Dex aie,' the English people

'Out.' Then came the cunning manoeuvres, the rude shocks and strokes

of the lance and blows of the swords, among the sergeants and soldiers,

both English and Norman.

"When the English fall, the Normans shout. Each side taunts and defies

the other, yet neither knoweth what the other saith; and the Normans say

the English bark, because they understand not their speech.

"Some wax strong, others weak: the brave exult, but the cowards tremble,

as men who are sore dismayed. The Normans press on the assault, and the

English defend their post well: they pierce the hauberks, and cleave the

shields, receive and return mighty blows. Again, some press forwards,

others yield; and thus in various ways the struggle proceeds. In the

plain was a fosse, which the Normans had now behind them, having passed

it in the fight without regarding it. But the English charged, and drove

the Normans before them till they made them fall back upon this fosse,

overthrowing into it horses and men. Many were to be seen falling

therein, rolling one over the other, with their faces to the earth, and

unable to rise. Many of the English, also, whom the Normans drew down

along with them, died there. At no time during the day's battle did so

many Normans die as perished in that fosse. So those said who saw the

dead.

"The varlets who were set to guard the harness began to abandon it as

they saw the loss of the Frenchmen, when thrown back upon the fosse

without power to recover themselves. Being greatly alarmed at seeing

the difficulty in restoring order, they began to quit the harness, and

sought around, not knowing where to find shelter. Then Duke William's

brother, Odo, the good priest, the Bishop of Bayeux, galloped up, and

said to them, 'Stand fast! stand fast! be quiet and move not! fear

nothing, for if God please, we shall conquer yet.' So they took courage,

and rested where they were; and Odo returned galloping back to where the

battle was most fierce, and was of great service on that day. He had put

hauberk on, over a white aube, wide in the body, with the sleeve tight;

and sat on a white horse, so that all might recognise him. In his hand

he held a mace, and wherever he saw most need he held up and stationed

the knights, and often urged them on to assault and strike the enemy.

"From nine o'clock in the morning, when the combat began, till three

o'clock came, the battle was up and down, this way and that, and no one

knew who would conquer and win the land. Both sides stood so firm and

fought so well, that no one could guess which would prevail. The Norman

archers with their bows shot thickly upon the English; but they covered

themselves with their shields, so that the arrows could not reach their

bodies, nor do any mischief, how true soever was their aim, or however

well they shot. Then the Normans determined to shoot their arrows

upwards into the air, so that they might fall on their enemies' heads,

and strike their faces. The archers adopted this scheme, and shot up

into the air towards the English; and the arrows in falling struck their

heads and faces, and put out the eyes of many; and all feared to open

their eyes, or leave their faces unguarded.

"The arrows now flew thicker than rain before the wind; fast sped the

shafts that the English called 'wibetes.' Then it was that an arrow,

that had been thus shot upwards, struck Harold above his right eye and

put it out. In his agony he drew the arrow and threw it away, breaking

it with his hands; and the pain to his head was so great, that he leaned

upon his shield. So the English were wont to say, and still say to the

French, that the arrow was well shot which was so sent up against

their king; and that the archer won them great glory, who thus put out

Harold's eye.

"The Normans saw that the English defended themselves well, and were so

strong in their position that they could do little against them. So they

consulted together privily, and arranged to draw off, and pretend to

flee, till the English should pursue and scatter themselves over the

field; for they saw that if they could once get their enemies to break:

their ranks, they might be attacked and discomfited much more easily. As

they had said, so they did. The Normans by little and little fled, the

English following them. As the one fell back, the other pressed after;

and when the Frenchmen retreated, the English thought and cried out that

the men of France fled, and would never return.

"Thus they were deceived by the pretended flight, and great mischief

thereby befell them; for if they had not moved from their position, it

is not likely that they would have been conquered at all; but like fools

they broke their lines and pursued.

"The Normans were to be seen following up their stratagem, retreating

slowly so as to draw the English further on. As they still flee, the

English pursue; they push out their lances and stretch forth their

hatchets: following the Normans, as they go rejoicing in the success of

their scheme, and scattering themselves over the plain. And the English

meantime jeered and insulted their foes with words. 'Cowards,' they

cried, 'you came hither in an evil hour, wanting our lands, and seeking

to seize our property, fools that ye were to come! Normandy is too far

off and you will not easily reach it. It is of little use to run back;

unless you can cross the sea at a leap, or can drink it dry, your sons

and daughters are lost to you.

"The Normans bore it all, but in fact they knew not what the English

said: their language seemed like the baying of dogs, which they could

not understand. At length they stopped and turned round, determined to

recover their ranks; and the barons might be heard crying 'Dex aie!' for

a halt. Then the Normans resumed their former position, turning their

faces towards the enemy; and their men were to be seen facing round and

rushing onwards to a fresh MELEE; the one party assaulting the other;

this man striking, another pressing onwards. One hits, another misses;

one flies, another pursues; one is aiming a stroke, while another

discharges his blow. Norman strives with Englishman again, and aims his

blows afresh. One flies, another pursues swiftly: the combatants are

many, the plain wide, the battle and the MELEE fierce. On every hand

they fight hard, the blows are heavy, and the struggle becomes fierce.

"The Normans were playing their part well, when an English knight came

rushing up, having in his company a hundred men, furnished with various

arms. He wielded a northern hatchet, with the blade a full foot long;

and was well armed after his manner, being tall, bold, and of noble

carriage. In the front of the battle where the Normans thronged most, he

came bounding on swifter than the stag, many Normans falling before

him and his company. He rushed straight upon a Norman who was armed and

riding on a war-horse, and tried with, his hatchet of steel to cleave

his helmet; but the blow miscarried and the sharp blade glanced down

before the saddle-bow, driving through the horse's neck down to the

ground, so that both horse and master fell together to the earth. I know

not whether the Englishman struck another blow; but the Normans who saw

the stroke were astonished and about to abandon the assault, when Roger

de Mongomeri came galloping up, with his lance set, and heeding not the

long-handled axe, which the English-man wielded aloft, struck him

down, and left him stretched upon the ground. Then Roger cried out,

'Frenchmen, strike! the day is ours!' and again a fierce MELEE was to be

seen, with many a blow of lance and sword; the English still defending

themselves, killing the horses and cleaving the shields.

"There was a French soldier of noble mien, who sat his horse gallantly.

He spied two Englishmen who were also carrying themselves boldly. They

were both men of great worth, and had become companions in arms and

fought together, the one protecting the other. They bore two long and

broad bills, and did great mischief to the Normans, killing both horses

and men. The French soldier looked at them and their bills, and was sore

alarmed, for he was afraid of losing his good horse, the best that he

had; and would willingly have turned to some other quarter, if it would

not have looked like cowardice. He soon, however, recovered his courage,

and spurring his horse gave him the bridle, and galloped swiftly

forward. Fearing the two bills, he raised his shield, and struck one of

the Englishmen with his lance on the breast, so that the iron passed

out at his back; at the moment that he fell the lance broke, and the

Frenchmen seized the mace that hung at his right side, and struck the

other Englishman a blow that completely broke his skull.

"On the other side was an Englishman who much annoyed the French,

continually assaulting them with a keen-edged hatchet. He had a helmet

made of wood, which he had fastened down to his coat, and laced round

his neck, so that no blows could reach his head. The ravage he was

making was seen by a gallant Norman knight, who rode a horse that

neither fire nor water could stop in its career, when its master urged

it on. The knight spurred, and his horse carried him on well till he

charged the Englishman, striking him over the helmet, so that it fell

down over his eyes; and as he stretched out his hand to raise it and

uncover the face, the Norman cut off his right hand, so that his hatchet

fell to the ground. Another Norman sprang forward and eagerly seized the

prize with both his hands, but he kept it little space, and paid dearly

for it, for as he stooped to pick up the hatchet, an Englishman with his

long-handled axe struck him over the back, breaking all his bones, so

that his entrails and lungs gushed forth. The knight of the good

horse meantime returned without injury; but on his way he met another

Englishman, and bore him down under his his horse, wounding him

grievously, and trampling him altogether under foot.

"And now might be heard the loud clang and cry of battle, and the

clashing of lances. The English stood firm in their barricades, and

shivered the lances, beating them into pieces with their bills and

maces. The Normans drew their swords, and hewed down the barricades, and

the English in great trouble fell back upon their standard, where were

collected the maimed and wounded.

"There were many knights of Chauz, who jousted and made attacks. The

English knew not how to joust, or bear arms on horseback but fought with

hatchets and bills. A man when he wanted to strike with one of their

hatchets, was obliged to hold it with both his hands, and could not at

the same time, as it seems to me, both cover himself and strike with any

freedom.

"The English fell back towards the standard, which was upon a rising

ground, and the Normans followed them across the valley, attacking them

on foot and horseback. Then Hue de Mortemer, with the sires D'Auviler,

D'Onebac, and St. Cler, rode up and charged, overthrowing many.

"Robert Fitz Erneis fixed his lance, took his shield, and, galloping

towards the standard, with his keen-edged sword struck an Englishman who

was in front, killed him, and then drawing back his sword, attacked many

others, and pushed straight for the standard, trying to beat it down,

but the English surrounded it, and killed him with their bills. He was

found on the spot, when they afterwards sought for him, dead, and lying

at the standard's foot.

"Duke William pressed close upon the English with his lance; striving

hard to reach the standard with the great troop he led; and seeking

earnestly for Harold, on whose account the whole war was. The Normans

follow their lord, and press around him; they ply their blows upon the

English; and these defend themselves stoutly, striving hard with their

enemies, returning blow for blow.

"One of them was a man of great strength, a wrestler, who did great

mischief to the Normans with his hatchet; all feared him, for he struck

down a great many Normans. The Duke spurred on his horse, and aimed a

blow at him, but he stooped, and so escaped the stroke; then jumping on

one side, he lifted his hatchet aloft, and as the Duke bent to avoid

the blow the Englishman boldly struck him on the head, and beat in his

helmet, though without doing much injury. He was very near falling,

however, but bearing on his stirrups he recovered himself immediately;

and when he thought to have revenged himself upon the churl by killing

him, he had escaped, dreading the Duke's blow. He ran back in among the

English, but he was not safe even there; for the Normans seeing him,

pursued and caught him; and having pierced him through and through with

their lances, left him dead on the ground.

"Where the throng of the battle was greatest, the men of Kent and Essex

fought wondrously well, and made the Normans again retreat, but without

doing them much injury. And when the Duke saw his men fall back and the

English triumphing over them, his spirit rose high, and he seized his

shield and his lance, which a vassal handed to him, and took his post by

his standard.

"Then those who kept close guard by him and rode where he rode, being

about a thousand armed men, came and rushed with closed ranks upon the

English; and with the weight of their good horses, and the blows the

knights gave, broke the press of the enemy, and scattered the crowd

before them, the good Duke leading them on in front. Many pursued and

many fled; many were the Englishmen who fell around, and were trampled

under the horses, crawling upon the earth, and not able to rise. Many

of the richest and noblest men fell in that rout, but the English still

rallied in places; smote down those whom they reached, and maintained

the combat the best they could; beating down the men and killing the

horses. One Englishman watched the Duke, and plotted to kill him; he

would have struck him with his lance, but he could not, for the Duke

struck him first, and felled him to the earth.

"Loud was now the clamour, and great the slaughter; many a soul then

quitted the body it inhabited. The living marched over the heaps of

dead, and each side was weary of striking. He charged on who could, and

he who could no longer strike still pushed forward. The strong struggled

with the strong; some failed, others triumphed; the cowards fell back,

the brave pressed on; and sad was his fate who fell in the midst, for

he had little chance of rising again; and many in truth fell, who never

rose at all, being crushed under the throng.

"And now the Normans pressed on so far, that at last they had reached

the standard. There Harold had remained, defending himself to the

utmost; but he was sorely wounded in his eye by the arrow, and suffered

grievous pain from the blow. An armed man came in the throng of the

battle, and struck him on the ventaille of his helmet, and beat him to

the ground; and as he sought to recover himself, a knight beat him down

again, striking him on the thick of his thigh, down to the bone.

"Gurth saw the English falling around, and that there was no remedy. He

saw his race hastening to ruin, and despaired of any aid; he would have

fled but could not, for the throng continually increased and the Duke

pushed on till he reached him, and struck him with great force. Whether

he died of that blow I know not, but it was said that he fell under it,

and rose no more.

"The standard was beaten down, the golden standard was taken, and Harold

and the best of his friends were slain; but there was so much eagerness,

and throng of so many around, seeking to kill him, that I know not who

it was that slew him.

"The English were in great trouble at having lost their king, and at

the Duke's having conquered and beat down the standard; but they still

fought on, and defended themselves long, and in fact till the day drew

to a close. Then it clearly appeared to all that the standard was lost,

and the news had spread throughout the army that Harold for certain was

dead; and all saw that there was no longer any hope, so they left the

field, and those fled who could.

"William fought well; many an assault did he lead, many a blow did he

give, and many receive, and many fell dead under his hand. Two horses

were killed under him, and he took a third at time of need, so that he

fell not to the ground; and he lost not a drop of blood. But whatever

any one did, and whoever lived or died, this is certain, that William

conquered, and that many of the English fled from the field, and many

died on the spot. Then he returned thanks to God, and in his pride

ordered his standard to be brought and set up on high where the English

standard had stood; and that was the signal of his having conquered and

beaten down the foe. And he ordered his tent to be raised on the

spot among the dead, and had his meat brought thither, and his supper

prepared there.

"Then he took off his armour; and the barons and knights, pages and

squires came, when he had unstrung his shield: and they took the helmet

from his head, and the hauberk from his back, and saw the heavy blows

upon his shield, and how his helmet was dinted in. And all greatly

wondered, and said, 'Such a baron never bestrode war-horse, or dealt

such blows, or did such feats of arms; neither has there been on earth

such a knight since Rollant and Olivier.'

"Thus they lauded and extolled him greatly, and rejoiced in what they

saw; but grieving also for their friends who were slain in the battle.

And the Duke stood meanwhile among them of noble stature and mien; and

rendered thanks to the King of Glory, through whom he had the victory;

and thanked the knights around him, mourning also frequently for the

dead. And he ate and drank among the dead, and made his bed that night

upon the field.

"The morrow was Sunday; and those who had slept upon the field of

battle, keeping watch around, and suffering great fatigue, bestirred

themselves at break of day and sought out and buried such of the bodies

of their dead friends as they might find. The noble ladies of the land

also came, some to seek their husbands, and others their fathers, sons,

or brothers. They bore the bodies to their villages, and interred them

at the churches; and the clerks and priests of the country were ready,

and at the request of their friends, took the bodies that were found,

and prepared graves and laid them therein.

"King Harold was carried and buried at Varham; but I know not who it was

that bore him thither, neither do I know who buried him. Many remained

on the field, and many had fled in the night."

Such is a Norman account of the battle of Hastings, which does full

justice to the valour of the Saxons, as well as to the skill and bravery

of the victors. [In the preceding pages, I have woven together the

"purpureos pannos" of the old chronicler. In so doing, I have largely

availed myself of Mr. Edgar Taylor's version of that part of the "Roman

de Rou" which describes the conquest. By giving engravings from the

Bayeux Tapestry, and excellent notes, Mr. Taylor has added much to the

value and interest of his volume.] It is indeed evident that the loss of

the battle to the English was owing to the wound which Harold received

in the afternoon, and which must have incapacitated him from effective

command. When we remember that he had himself just won the battle of

Stamford Bridge over Harald Hardrada by the manoeuvre of a feigned

flight, it is impossible to suppose that he could be deceived by the

same stratagem on the part of the Normans at Hastings. But his men,

when deprived of his control would very naturally be led by their

inconsiderate ardour into the pursuit that proved so fatal to them.

All the narratives of the battle, however much they may vary as to the

precise time and manner of Harold's fall, eulogise the generalship and

the personal prowess which he displayed, until the fatal arrow struck

him. The skill with which he had posted his army was proved, both by the

slaughter which it cost the Normans to force the position, and also by

the desperate rally which some of the Saxons made, after the battle,

in the forest in the rear, in which they cut off a large number of the

pursuing Normans. This circumstance is particularly mentioned by William

of Poictiers, the Conqueror's own chaplain. Indeed, if Harold, or either

of his brothers, had survived, the remains of the English army might

have formed again in the wood, and could at least have effected an

orderly retreat, and prolonged the war. But both Gurth and Leofwine, and

all the bravest thanes of Southern England, lay dead on Senlac, around

their fallen king and the fallen standard of their country. The exact

number of the slain on the Saxon side is unknown; but we read that on

the side of the victors, out of sixty thousand men who had been engaged,

no less than a fourth perished: so well had the English bill-men "plied

the ghastly blow" and so sternly had the Saxon battle-axe cloven Norman

casque and mail. [The Conqueror's chaplain calls the Saxon battle-axes

"saevissimas secures."] The old historian Daniel justly as well as

forcibly remarks, [As cited in the "Pictorial History."] "Thus was

tried, by the great assize of God's judgment in battle, the right

of power between the English and Norman nations; a battle the most

memorable of all others; and, however miserably lost, yet most nobly

fought on the part of England."

Many a pathetic legend was told in after years respecting the

discovery and the burial of the corpse of our last Saxon king. The main

circumstances, though they seem to vary, are perhaps reconcilable. [See

them collected in Lingard, vol. i p. 452, ET SEQ.; Thierry, vol i.

p. 299; Sharon Turner, Vol. i. p. 82; and Histoire de Normandie par

Lieguet, p. 242.] Two of the monks of Waltham abbey, which Harold had

founded a little time before his election to the throne, had accompanied

him to the battle. On the morning after the slaughter they begged and

gained permission of the Conqueror to search for the body of their

benefactor. The Norman soldiery and camp-followers had stripped and

gashed the slain; and the two monks vainly strove to recognise from

among the mutilated and gory heaps around them the features of their

former king. They sent for Harold's mistress, Edith, surnamed "the Fair"

and the "Swan-necked," to aid them. The eye of love proved keener than

the eye of gratitude, and the Saxon lady, even in that Aceldama, knew

her Harold.

The king's mother now sought the victorious Norman, and begged the dead

body of her son. But William at first answered in his wrath, and in the

hardness of his heart, that a man who had been false to his word and his

religion should have no other sepulchre than the sand of the shore. He

added, with a sneer, "Harold mounted guard on the coast while he was

alive; he may continue his guard now he is dead." The taunt was an

unintentional eulogy; and a grave washed by the spray of the Sussex

waves would have been the noblest burial-place for the martyr of Saxon

freedom. But Harold's mother was urgent in her lamentations and her

prayers: the Conqueror relented: like Achilles, he gave up the dead body

of his fallen foe to a parent's supplications; and the remains of King

Harold were deposited with regal honours in Waltham Abbey.

On Christmas day of the same year, William the Conqueror was crowned at

London, King of England.

SYNOPSIS OF EVENTS BETWEEN THE BATTLE OF HASTINGS, A.D. 1066, AND JOAN

OF ARC'S VICTORY AT ORLEANS, 1429.

A.D. 1066-1087. Reign of William the Conqueror. Frequent risings of the

English against him, which are quelled with merciless rigour.

1096. The first Crusade.

1112. Commencement of the disputes about investitures between the

emperors and the popes.

1140. Foundation of the city of Lubeck, whence originated the Hanseatic

League. Commencement of the feuds in Italy between the Guelphs and

Ghibellines.

1146. The second Crusade.

1154. Henry II. becomes King of England. Under him Thomas a Becket is

made Archbishop of Canterbury: the first instance of any man of the

Saxon race being raised to high office in Church or State since the

Conquest.

1170. Strongbow, earl of Pembroke, lands with an English army in

Ireland.

1189. Richard Coeur de Lion becomes King of England. He and King Philip

Augustus of France join in the third Crusade.

1199-1204. On the death of King Richard, his brother John claims

and makes himself master of England and Normandy and the other large

continental possessions of the early Plantagenet princes. Philip

Augustus asserts the cause of Prince Arthur, John's nephew, against him.

Arthur is murdered, but the French king continues the war against John,

and conquers from him Normandy, Brittany, Anjou, Maine, Touraine, and

Poictiers.

1216. The barons, the freeholders, the citizens, and the yeomen of

England rise against the tyranny of John and his foreign favourites.

They compel him to sign Magna Charta. This is the commencement of our

nationality: for our history from this time forth is the history of a

national life, then complete, and still in being. All English history

before this period is a mere history of elements, of their collisions,

and of the processes of their fusion. For upwards of a century after the

Conquest, Anglo-Norman and Anglo-Saxon had kept aloof from each other:

the one in haughty scorn, the other in sullen abhorrence. They were two

peoples, though living in the same land. It is not until the thirteenth

century, the period of the reigns of John and his son and grandson, that

we can perceive the existence of any feeling of common patriotism among

them. But in studying the history of these reigns, we read of the old

dissensions no longer. The Saxon no more appears in civil war against

the Norman; the Norman no longer scorns the language of the Saxon, or

refuses to bear together with him the name of Englishman. No part of the

community think themselves foreigners to another part. They feel that

they are all one people, and they have learned to unite their efforts

for the common purpose of protecting the rights and promoting the

welfare of all. The fortunate loss of the Duchy of Normandy in John's

reign greatly promoted these new feelings. Thenceforth our barons' only

homes were in England. One language had, in the reign of Henry III.,

become the language of the land; and that, also, had then assumed the

form in which we still possess it. One law, in the eye of which all

freemen are equal without distinction of race, was modelled, and

steadily enforced, and still continues to form the groundwork of our

judicial system. [Creasy's Text-book of the Constitution, p. 4.]

1273. Rudolph of Hapsburg chosen Emperor of Germany.

1283. Edward I. conquers Wales.

1346. Edward III. invades France, and gains the battle of Cressy.

1356. Battle of Poictiers.

1360. Treaty of Bretigny between England and France. By it Edward III.

renounces his pretensions to the French crown. The treaty is ill kept,

and indecisive hostilities continue between the forces of the two

countries.

1414. Henry V. of England claims the crown of France, and resolves to

invade and conquer that kingdom. At this time France was in the most

deplorable state of weakness and suffering, from the factions that

raged among her nobility, and from the cruel oppressions which the

rival nobles practised on the mass of the community. "The people were

exhausted by taxes, civil wars, and military executions; and they had

fallen into that worst of all states of mind, when the independence of

one's country is thought no longer a paramount and sacred object. 'What

can the English do to us worse than the things we suffer at the hands

of our own princes?' was a common exclamation among the poor people of

France." [Pictorial Hist. of England, vol. i. p. 28.]

1415. Henry invades France, takes Harfleur, and wins the great battle of

Agincourt.

1417-1419. Henry conquers Normandy. The French Dauphin assassinates the

Duke of Burgundy, the most powerful of the French nobles, at Montereau.

The successor of the murdered duke becomes the active ally of the

English.

1420. The Treaty of Troyes is concluded between Henry V. of England and

Charles VI. of France, and Philip, duke of Burgundy. By this treaty it

was stipulated that Henry should marry the Princess Catherine of France;

that King Charles, during his life-time, should keep the title and

dignity of King of France, but that Henry should succeed him, and should

at once be entrusted with the administration of the government, and

that the French crown should descend to Henry's heirs; that France

and England should for ever be united under one king, but should still

retain their several usages, customs, and privileges; that all the

princes, peers, vassals, and communities of France should swear

allegiance to Henry as their future king, and should pay him present

obedience as regent; that Henry should unite his arms to those of King

Charles and the Duke of Burgundy, in order to subdue the adherents of

Charles, the pretended dauphin; and that these three princes should make

no truce or peace with the Dauphin, but by the common consent of all

three.

1421. Henry V. gains several victories over the French, who refuse to

acknowledge the treaty of Troyes. His son, afterwards Henry VI., is

born.

1422. Henry V. and Charles VI. of France die. Henry VI. is proclaimed at

Paris, King of England and France. The followers of the French Dauphin

proclaim him Charles VII., King of France. The Duke of Bedford, the

English Regent in France, defeats the army of the Dauphin at Crevant.

1424. The Duke of Bedford gains the great victory of Verneuil over the

French partizans of the Dauphin, and their Scotch auxiliaries.

1428. The English begin the siege of Orleans.