“Et jam Argiva phalanx instructis navibus ibat.”
_Æn. II._, 254.
The vigorous manner in which William entered upon the preparations for
his grand campaign excited the enthusiasm of his continental neighbours.
“Reports,” says Ordericus Vitalis, “of the expedition drew many valiant
men from the adjoining countries, who prepared their arms for battle.
Thus the French and Bretons, the Poitevins and Burgundians, and other
people on this side the Alps, flocked together for the war over the sea,
and scenting the booty which the conquest of Britain offered, were
prepared to undergo the various perils and chances, both by sea and
land, attending the enterprise.” In the month of August William’s fleet
assembled at the mouth of the river Dive,[87] in the vicinity of which
it is probable most of his ships were built. Unfavourable weather
detained it here for some time, and when it did move, it was not able to
proceed further than St. Valery-sur-Somme. Adverse winds again prevailed
for a month. “At this,” says Wace, “the barons were greatly wearied.
Then they prayed the Convent to bring out the shrine of St. Valery, and
set it on a carpet on the plain; and all came praying the holy relics
that they might be allowed to pass over the sea. They offered so much
money, that the relics were buried beneath it; and from that day forth
they had good weather and a fair wind.”
The long detention of the Norman forces on the French coast was a
fortunate circumstance for them. Harold had made ample provision for
resisting the landing of his opponent. With a fleet which he had
assembled at Harwich he sailed to the Isle of Wight, and there
throughout the summer and autumn months awaited William’s arrival. He
also kept a land force in suitable positions near the sea shore.[88] The
same wind however which detained William at St. Valery brought Harold
another foe which compelled him to withdraw his troops from the southern
coast. On his departure the fleet was dispersed. Some of the chroniclers
tell us that the seamen’s time of service had expired, others that they
were short of provisions. Harold’s absence no doubt materially
contributed to the demoralization of this important national safeguard.
Here we are again called upon to notice the vanity of man’s policy.
Harold foreseeing that a struggle would ensue between William and
himself, and being, consequently, desirous of promoting friendly
alliances with some of the continental powers, encouraged his brother
Tostig to marry a daughter of the Earl of Flanders. This Tostig did, and
thereby became brother-in-law to William of Normandy. Tostig, during the
life of the Confessor, was appointed to the earldom of Northumbria, but
the people having risen in arms against him, probably on account of the
harshness of his rule, he was removed, and Morcar appointed in his
place. When Harold became king, Tostig expected to be reinstated, but so
far from taking active measures in his favour, Harold married the sister
of the earl who had supplanted him. Tostig, enraged at this treatment,
conceived a violent hatred against his brother, and inflamed the minds
of the Earl of Flanders and the Duke of Normandy against him. Receiving,
moreover, the active support of Harold Hardrada, King of Norway, he
landed with a hostile force in Yorkshire, and ravaged the country.
Harold, while watching the proceedings of the Norman armada, heard of
his brother’s attempt. Hastening northwards, he came upon him unawares,
and slew both him and Hardrada, and scattered their forces. While Harold
was engaged in these operations, William landed unopposed in Sussex!
It was on the night of the 29th September that the Norman expedition
crossed the sea, and early next morning it reached the port of Pavensey.
The Tapestry represents this important transaction. The Duke’s own ship
is distinguished by the consecrated banner at its mast head. This vessel
was called the Mora, and is stated to have been a present from the
Duchess Matilda. The legend in this part of the Tapestry (_Plate IX._)
is, HIC WELELM: DUX IN MAGNO NAVIGIO MARE TRANSIVIT ET VENIT AD
PEVENSÆ[89]--Here Duke William in a large ship crossed the sea, and
arrived at Pevensey.
A glance at the map of Sussex will shew that Pevensey was a most fitting
place at which to effect a landing. Beachy Head projecting considerably
to the south, protects this ancient port from the swell occasioned by
the wind which most violently affects the English Channel--the
south-west. The beach, too, is of a nature well adapted for allowing
ships such as William’s were being safely drawn up upon it. This was the
port selected by the Conqueror for his embarkation when he returned to
Normandy after his coronation. In all probability William’s fleet would
line the shore for a considerable space on both sides of Pevensey in the
manner which they are represented as doing in the Tapestry, (_Plate X._)
It is curious to observe, that the remains of a vessel, which Mr. Lower
thinks is at least as old as the Conquest, has recently been discovered,
imbedded in the gravel of the ancient beach of Pevensey. The nature of
the position in which it is placed prevents its being excavated; we
might otherwise, perchance, have the pleasure of looking upon one of the
Conqueror’s own ships.
William landed with great caution. Wace thus describes the
operation--“They arrived near Hastings, and there each ship was 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
foremost; each with his bow bent, and 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
[Illustration: PLATE X.]
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 next, all
armed, with their hauberks on, their shields slung at their necks, and
their helmets laced. They formed together on the shore, each armed upon
his war-horse. All had their swords girded on, and passed into the plain
with their lances raised.”
Our picture-chronicle does not neglect these transactions. The
inscription over them is, HIC EXEUNT CABALLI DE NAVIBUS ET HIC MILITES
FESTINAVERUNT HASTINGA UT CIBUM RAPERENTUR[90]--Here the horses
disembark, and here the soldiers hurry forward to Hastings to seize
food.
An incident is told respecting the landing of William which is best
related in the words of the Chronicler. “As the ships were drawn to
shore, and the Duke first landed, he fell by chance 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 seigniors, by the splendour of
God! I have seized England with my two hands; without challenge no prize
can be made; all is our own that is here; now we shall see who will be
the bolder man.’ Then one of his men ran forward and put his hand on a
hut, and took a handful of the thatch and turned to the Duke, saying
heartily, ‘Sire, come forward and receive seizin; of this land I give
you seizin; without doubt the country is yours.’ And the Duke said, ‘I
accept it; may God be with us.’”[91]
The nature of the ground prevented William from proceeding directly up
the country from Pevensey. So late as the days of Queen Elizabeth, the
land inwards from this point was little better than a marsh. The
Ordnance map of Sussex shows, in this direction, a remarkable absence of
towns and villages, indicating pretty clearly what it must have been in
former times. William went cautiously along the shore to Hastings, where
he erected his fortifications, and refreshed his troops. In the Tapestry
we see them seizing the sheep and cattle in the fields, cooking their
food, and afterwards seating themselves at table. Wace says “Before
evening had set in they had finished a fort. Then you might see them
make their kitchens, light their fires, and cook their meat. The Duke
sat down to eat, and the barons and knights had food in plenty; for
they had brought ample store. All ate and drank enough, and were right
glad that they were ashore.”
The culinary operations of the invading force require some notice.
Although some huts have been erected on the shore, having been brought
in frame with the fleet, the cooks discharge their duties in the open
air.
“...... A kettle slung
Between two poles upon a stick transverse
Receives the morsel....”
The pot may have been a metallic vessel brought over from Normandy with
the stores; its appearance, however, strongly reminds us of a plan which
Froissart tells us the Scotch adopted in one of their incursions into
England. Having seized an ox, they slaughtered it, and boiled its flesh
in its skin, supporting the extemporaneously-made cauldron after the
manner shown in the Tapestry. The rest of the cookery is done upon a
hearth. A spit, on which the wood is placed, is thrust into the ground,
so as to suspend the article to be cooked a short way above the fire. At
the present day much of the cookery of Normandy is done by placing the
food in earthenware vessels, which are brought into contact with the
embers without the intervention of a grate. The food when cooked was
usually, at this period, handed to the guests seated at the table, on
the spits, who took it off with their fingers, assisted with a knife
which they carried with them. Forks were comparatively unknown for some
centuries after the Conquest.
In the Tapestry two tables are spread. The first of them seems to be
formed of shields set upon a frame. The persons seated at it are
probably some of William’s chief officers whose duty it is to arrange
the entertainment, and taste the food and wine previous to its being set
before the Duke. William sits at a table which was no doubt brought from
Normandy. It is of classic form, being like that called by the Romans
Sigma, from its resemblance to the Greek letter of that name, which in
the time of the Roman Emperors was formed like our C. The guests sit at
one side of it only, the inner or concave side being left open, to allow
the servants more readily to approach. All the operations of the table
are presented to us by the artist. Odo, with his thumb and two
forefingers extended, is blessing the food and the drink. William has
planted his hand upon the principal dish, as if to claim the lion’s
share for himself. Another person is tearing a fish to pieces with his
fingers, and conveying the morsels by the same medium to his mouth. An
old man with a beard, probably William’s Nestor, who refused to comply
with the tonsured fashion of the day, is drinking with his neighbour;
both of them have uplifted bowls. A servant upon bended knee is
presenting a covered dish to the party. These compartments are
respectively described, HIC COQUITUR CARO ET HIC MINISTRAVERUNT
MINISTRI--Here the food is being cooked and here the attendants have
served up the viands: HIC FECERUNT PRANDIUM ET HIC EPISCOPUS CIBUM ET
POTUM BENEDICIT--Here they have prepared the feast and here the bishop
is blessing the meat and drink.
[Illustration: PLATE XI.]
The meal must necessarily have been a hasty one. One of the guests has
already risen from his seat, and calls the attention of the Duke to
something that is passing without.
William was now fairly committed to a great and hazardous undertaking,
and retreat was not to be thought of; at the same time, the utmost
circumspection was necessary, and the Duke of Normandy was not the man
to neglect any precaution.
We accordingly next find him in solemn consultation with his two uterine
brothers--Odo, Archbishop of Bayeux, and Robert, Count of Mortaine.
William has his sword elevated, and Robert is in the act of drawing his
from the scabbard--indications which strongly mark the nature of the
attempt before them. The legend over this group (_Plate XI._) is simply,
ODO EPISCOPUS: ROBERTUS--Odo the Bishop: Robert.
As the result, probably, of the deliberations of the three brothers, it
was resolved strongly to fortify the position occupied by William’s
army. Such was the importance of this work, that William, with the
consecrated banner in his hand, is seen personally superintending it.
The spades of the workmen are worthy of observation. They are evidently
made of wood, but shod with iron. They have a notch for the foot on one
side only. That they were adapted not merely for turning up the soil,
but for trenching the scull of an enemy, is evident not only from their
size and form, but from the use to which they are put by two of the
parties before us. The inscription over this part is, ISTE JUSSIT UT
FODERETUR CASTELLUM AT HESTENGA[M]--He has ordered an intrenchment to
be dug at Hastings; and over the castle itself is written,
CEASTRA[92]--The camp.
The camp in question could not be the castle, the ruins of which now
crown the heights of Hastings. However strong the position of Hastings
castle, there is not space enough on the rocky platform on which it
stands for the encampment of an army one fourth of the size of
William’s; besides, we cannot suppose that William in his present
circumstances would attempt the erection of a fort of solid masonry. The
camp which William constructed was, as the Tapestry leads us to believe,
formed of earth, strengthened with wooden palisades, the whole being
commanded at intervals by towers which had been brought in frame from
France. The phrase _ut foderetur_, that they might _dig_ a castle, is
express, and the men are seen throwing up the soil. This agrees with
what Wace says, “They enclosed a fort and strengthened it round about
with palisades and a fosse.” Some extensive entrenchments, still to be
seen in the immediate vicinity of the railway station at Hastings, are
probably the remains of the Duke’s encampment.[93]
An English knight, who had watched the landing of William, hastened to
Harold with the alarming news. He found him rejoicing after the defeat
of Tostig and Hardrada. “Foolish” says Wace, “is he who glorifies
himself, for good fortune soon passeth away. The heart of man often
rejoiceth when ruin is nigh.”
Bitterly did Harold grieve that he had not been at the spot when the
Normans landed, that he might have driven them into the sea. “It is a
sad mischance,” said he, “but thus it hath pleased our Heavenly King.”
Harold had, by the rapidity of his marches, surprised his brother
Tostig, and come upon the troops of Hardrada unawares. He thought to
adopt the same policy with William; and, without taking time to refresh
or recruit his exhausted army, commenced his march southwards. In the
course of a few days he was in the vicinity of his enemy. William,
however, was not to be taken by surprise, and Harold was constrained to
take up a position at Battle, distant about six miles from Hastings,
where the Duke was encamped.
The next compartment in the Tapestry exhibits to us William giving
audience to a messenger who announces to him the approach of Harold. The
legend is, HIC NUNTIATUM EST WILLELMO DE HAROLD--Here news is brought to
William respecting Harold.
Whilst these movements were going on, the inhabitants of the southern
shore of Sussex were suffering severely. Not only were their cattle
taken from the folds, and their recently replenished granaries emptied,
but their dwellings were wantonly destroyed. Perhaps the Saxons may have
provoked the vengeance of the foe, for they were not men to take quietly
the spoiling of their goods. In the Tapestry we see a soldier setting
fire to a house (one being the representative of many), from which a
female and child are escaping--escaping from present destruction to be
cast, with winter before them, houseless, friendless, and without food,
upon the wide world. The sufferings of the battle field form but a small
part of the horrors of war. This compartment of the work bears the
inscription, HIC DOMUS INCENDITUR--Here a house is set fire to. Some
outlined figures in the margin of this part of the work doubtless refer
to those distressing immoralities which too often attend the march of
armies.
Whilst the two armies lay within a few miles of each other several
messages passed between the commanders. William was too good a soldier
to risk a battle if he could avoid it. He therefore sent a tonsured monk
to Harold, reminding him of his oath, and calling upon him to deliver up
the kingdom. Harold, flushed with recent victory, was with difficulty
restrained from cutting down the messenger; as it was, he sent him away
with insults. When his rage had subsided he saw his folly, and sent an
envoy, acquainted with the language of France, to duke William, offering
to make him a pecuniary recompense if he would recross the sea, telling
him however, if he did not, he would give him battle on the following
Saturday.
Saturday, the 1st of October, was Harold’s birth day. He always regarded
it as his fortunate day; and he was anxious if he did enter into mortal
conflict with a desperate foe, that it should be when his propitious
star was in the ascendant. Like another of England’s heroes--Oliver
Cromwell--the day of his birth was to prove the day of his death.
A battle now being imminent, Gurth, the brother of Harold, was
exceedingly anxious that the king should retire from the host and give
the command to him. Gurth had taken no oath to William, and therefore
had not the punishment of perjury to fear. Besides, if he were slain,
England would still have her king; and army after army could be raised,
if need be, to resist the pretensions of any invader. Harold refused to
adopt the wise counsel of his brother. Though a brave man, he had not
the self-command of William, nor the same power of taking an enlarged
view of a subject.
The day before the battle, Harold and Gurth rode out early in the
morning to descry the enemy. “They rode on, viewing and examining the
ground, till, from a hill where they stood, they could see the Norman
host, who were near. They saw a great many huts made of branches of
trees, tents well equipped, pavilions, and gonfanons; and they heard
horses neighing, and beheld the glittering of armour. They stood a long
while without speaking”--and at length returned in silence to their
tent. They had seen enough to awaken their apprehensions, and to make
them anxious for further information. Harold, therefore, sent out two
spies to reconnoitre. They fell into the hands of the Normans, who
brought them to William. He used them well, and ordered them to be
conducted through the host. On their return they reported that the
Normans, whom they had noticed to be close shaven and cropt, were an
army of priests and mass-sayers rather than knights. Harold, who knew
the habits of the Normans, replied, “These are valiant knights, bold and
brave warriors, though they bear not beards and mustaches as we do.”
Notwithstanding the ill success of his former representations, William
persevered in negotiation. He lost no time by it, and if he did not
succeed in his immediate object, he induced his observers to believe,
that one who was so bent upon the investigation of his claims must have
right upon his side.
On the same day that he entertained the spies of Harold, he sent a monk,
learned and wise, offering Harold one of three things--that he should
resign the kingdom, that he should submit to the judgment of the Pope,
or meet him singly and fight body for body. Harold declined every
alternative.
Next day--the day before the battle--William attempted to obtain a
personal interview with Harold. Harold refused to meet him. By the
messenger who brought Harold’s negative to the proposal for a meeting,
William sent him word that if he would retire he would give him all
Northumberland, and whatever belonged to the kingdom beyond the Humber;
to his brother Gurth he promised the lands of Godwin their father.
Harold rejected this also: Northumberland was nothing worth; it was
chiefly peopled by Danes, and was liable to constant invasion. William,
when king, could not govern Northumberland. As a matter, not of feeling,
not of revenge, but of cool, calculating state policy, he swept it of
every living thing--he made it a desert, and such it continued for a
century after his time.
At the same time that William sent his last message, he charged the
clerk who took it, in case of refusal, to sow the seeds of terror and
dissatisfaction among the English. “Tell them,” said he, “that all who
come with Harold, or support him in this affair, are excommunicated by
the Apostle and his clergy.” This was a javelin skilfully thrown. “At
this excommunication the English were much troubled; they feared it
greatly, and the battle still more.”
Gurth, however, rallied them. He told them that their all was at stake,
that William had promised their lands to his followers, and that he had
already taken homage for them from many. “Defend yourselves then,” he
said, “and your children and all that belongs to you, while you may.”
At these words the English were aroused, and cried out that the Normans
had come on an evil day, and had embarked on a foolish matter.
“The Duke and his men tried no further negotiation, but returned to
their tents, sure of fighting on the morrow. Then men were to be seen on
every side straightening lances, fitting hauberks and helmets, making
ready the saddles and stirrups; filling the quivers, stringing the bows,
and making all ready for the battle.”
The night before a battle must be a season of peculiar solemnity and
suspense. The shades of night, giving indistinctness to the landscape,
harmonize too well with the doubts which becloud the mind as to the
morrow’s destiny. He is a fool, not a hero, who would step from time
into eternity without solemn thought.
The accounts which we have of the way in which the hosts spent the
night before the battle are all to the disadvantage of the English. Had
they been the winning instead of the losing party, the chroniclers would
doubtless have been less severe. As it is, they tell us that the troops
of Harold spent the night in eating and drinking and merriment--never
lying down in their beds. If this be true, how we are we to account for
the vigour with which they fought from nine o’clock in the morning until
nightfall next day? The Normans and French, on the other hand, we are
told, betook themselves to their orisons. “They made confession of their
sins, accused themselves to the priests, and vowed that they would never
more eat flesh on the Saturday” (the day of the battle). Many of them
kept the vow!
At the dawn of day each party had completed its preparations. Before the
sun should set, a battle was to be fought on which hung not merely the
fate of an empire, but, as events have subsequently proved, the
destinies of the civilized world to this hour.