“Revolving in his altered soul
The various turns of fate below.”
_Dryden._
The room is still pointed out in the roofless donjon keep of Falaise, in
which Arlotte, the tanner’s daughter, gave birth to William the
Conqueror. It is a small comfortless apartment. When the newborn babe
was laid upon the floor, he grasped the straw which covered it with a
vigour that induced the bystanders to predict that he would ere long
take a foremost place amongst the ambitious potentates of his age. In
the course of our worsted narrative we have followed our hero to a point
in which he is about to justify the correctness of these surmisings.
Harold, painfully conscious of the inferiority of his military
equipments, resolved to act on the defensive. He took up his position on
a round-topped hill, having on its summit a circular platform just
sufficient to contain his troops drawn up in close order. This hill was
anciently called Senlac; it afterwards became the site of the Abbey of
Battle. Harold further strengthened his position by earthen ramparts
crowned with palisades of wood. Wace, speaking of these precautions,
says, “They had built up a fence before them with their shields, and
with ash and other wood; and had well joined and wattled in their 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 in dishonour, either by hatchet
or bill, by club or other weapon.” In addition to these defences, Wace
tells us that Harold “made a fosse, which went across the field,
guarding one side of their army.” This was probably lower down the hill
than the position occupied by his camp, and was chiefly intended to
incommode the cavalry.
Harold further feeling that he had not the power to prevent the enemy’s
horse outflanking him, ordered “that all should be ranged with their
faces towards the enemy”--that they should front three sides at least of
the square. We see them (_Plate XIV._) sustaining an attack from
opposite quarters, and in both cases fronting the foe. He moreover
issued directions “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.” He planted his standard--the dragon of Wessex--on the most
elevated part of the hill, and there he resolved to defend it to the
last. Nobly Harold fulfilled his purpose--nothing could tempt him from
his post--and ere the Saxon ensign bowed to the banner blessed by the
Pope, his blood had drenched the soil.
Harold’s men consisted but in part of regularly trained troops. Amongst
them were many “villains called together from the villages, bearing such
arms as they found--clubs and great picks, iron forks and stakes.” These
undisciplined Saxons exhibited no lack of that indomitable energy for
which the English race is famous; but, as Harold’s brother, Gurth,
remarked, “a great gathering of vilanaille is worth little in battle.”
The numbers of the two armies have been variously stated. Probably Wace
is right in saying that they were nearly equal. He sets down the army of
William at sixty thousand, and speaks thus of his opponent’s: “Many and
many have said that Harold had but a small force, and that he fell on
that account. But many others say, and so do I, that he and the Duke had
man for man. The men of the Duke were not more numerous, but he had
certainly more barons, and the men were better. He had plenty of good
knights, and great plenty of good archers.”
The Norman forces, having finished their devotions by an early hour in
the morning, were ordered to form in three divisions, the Duke himself
commanding the centre, which consisted of Normans. William then
addressed his army, saying, “If I conquer, you will conquer; if I win
lands, you shall have lands”--telling them, at the same time, that he
came not merely to establish his own claims, but also to punish the
English for the massacre of the Danes, and other felonies which they had
committed against his people. Then they began to cry out, “You will not
see one coward; none here will fear to die for love of you if need be.”
And he answered them, “Strike hard at the beginning; stay not to take
spoil; all the booty shall be in common, and there will be plenty for
every one. There will be no safety in peace or flight. The English will
neither love nor spare Normans. Felons they were, and are; false they
were, and false they will be.”
William was continuing his speech, when Fitz-Osborne, who had been one
of his principal advisers in the whole business, interrupted him: “Sire,
said he, we tarry here too long; let us arm ourselves. _Allons!
Allons!_”
When William began to prepare for battle, 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 inadvertently turned it the
wrong way, with the back in front. He quickly changed it; but when he
saw that those who stood by him were sorely alarmed, he said, “I never
believed in omens, and I never will. I trust in God. The hauberk which
was turned wrong and then set right, signifies that I who have hitherto
been but duke, shall be changed into a king. Then he crossed himself,
and straightway took his hauberk, stooped his head, and put it on
aright; and laced his helmet and girt his sword, which a varlet brought
him.”
There is something poetical in the error which William made. He was too
good a general to be boastful--he had been too often in the field not to
know the difference between the putting on and the putting off of the
armour--he knew too well, moreover, the serious nature of the venture
which he had made to pay much attention to the duties of his military
toilet. His capacious mind
[Illustration: PLATE XII.]
was weighing the chances of victory or defeat, and for the last time
reviewing all the arrangements which he had made for either alternative.
The Norman Duke, notwithstanding his usual exemption from superstitious
influences, did not consider his preparation for battle complete until
he had strung around his neck a portion of the relics over which Harold
had taken his faithless vow. William entrusted the standard which the
Pope had given him to Turstin Fitz-Rou. His demeanour, rendered even
more than usually commanding by the greatness of the occasion, seems to
have attracted the attention of his companions in arms;--“Never (said
the Viscount of Toarz), never have I seen a man so fairly armed, nor one
who rode 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 or
manœuvred so nobly. There is no such knight under heaven! a fair knight
he is, and a fair king he will be!”
We are now prepared for examining the Tapestry. Under the compartment
inscribed HIC MILITES EXIERUNT DE HESTENGA--Here the soldiers have
departed from Hastings--we see the Duke, armed cap-a-pie, preparing to
mount his charger, which is brought him by an attendant. Next we have a
well arranged group of horsemen, representing the whole Norman army,
proceeding onward at a steady pace. Some scouts in advance scour the
country, and guard against surprise. The inscription proceeds, ET
VENERUNT AD PRELIUM CONTRA HAROLDUM REGEM--And march to battle against
Harold the King.
The country between Hastings and Battle is of an undulating nature. The
Duke had many defiles of a dangerous nature to pass, in which Harold
might have harassed him if he had possessed cavalry, and if he had had
troops to spare. As it was, he was allowed to proceed unmolested;
nevertheless, both parties sent out scouts to watch each other’s
movements. The horseman, Vitalis, seems to have been sent on this errand
by William. In the Tapestry he is represented as galloping up to his
chieftain with the news which he has gathered respecting the enemy,
towards whom his spear is pointed. The group is labelled, HIC WILLELM:
DUX INTERROGAT VITAL: SI VIDISSET EXERCITUM HAROLDI--Here Duke William
asks Vitalis, whether he had seen Harold’s army.
Harold’s scout is next seen, on foot, endeavouring to obtain a glimpse
through the forests of the approaching foe; he then informs his king of
their advance. The legend is, ISTE NUNTIAT HAROLDUM REGEM DE EXERCITU
WILLELM: DUCIS--This man brings word to Harold the King respecting Duke
William’s army. “The line of the Normans’ march from the camp of
Hastings to the battle-field, must have lain on the south-western slope
of the elevated ridge of land extending from Fairlight to Battle; that
is, to the north of the village of Hollington, through what is now
Crowhurst Park, to the elevated spot called Hetheland, but now known as
Telham Hill.”[94] This hill is about a mile south of the one occupied by
Harold. Its ancient name seems to imply that it was covered with heath
rather than with wood; this circumstance, together with the fact of its
elevated position, would enable
[Illustration: PLATE XIII.]
William’s host for the first time clearly to descry their enemy from its
summit, and render it a fitting place on which to make the final
preparations for the onslaught. This spot, according to local tradition,
derived its name of Telham, or Telman Hill, from William’s having told
off his men before advancing to the fight.
We can readily conceive what would be the feelings of the two forces, as
on the morning of the 14th of October, 1066, they came in sight of each
other;--“Some with their colour rising, others turning pale; some making
ready their arms, others raising their shields; the brave man raising
himself to the fight, the coward trembling at the approaching danger.”
Who can stand upon the ground occupied by either party without
sympathizing, in part, with their fierce emotions? Happily, such
sympathy is vain. Not only have victor and vanquished long ceased to be
moved by earth’s concernments, but the descendants of each have long
been blended into one race, having common interests, common feelings.
Before commencing the onslaught, William again addressed his troops. He
is represented in the Tapestry (_Plate XIII._) beside a tree,
representing probably the edge of the forest, with the baton of command
in his right hand. The legend here is, HIC WILLELM: DUX ALLOQUITUR SUIS
MILITIBUS UT PREPARARENT SE VIRILITER ET SAPIENTER AD PRELIUM CONTRA
ANGLORUM EXERCITUM--Here Duke William exhorts his soldiers to prepare
manfully and prudently for battle against the army of the English. Wace
says that the battlecry of the Normans was _Dex aie!_ (God help!), that
of the English, _Ut!_ (out!--begone!)
Harold was not less diligent than his antagonist in making preparations.
“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.” “Each man
had a 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. They were on foot in close ranks, and carried
themselves right boldly. _Olicrosse_ (holy cross) they often cried, and
many times repeated _Godamite_ (God Almighty).”[95] “And now behold!
that battle was gathered whereof the fame is yet mighty.”
Nearly all the chroniclers tell us that the minstrel-warrior Taillefer
was the first to begin the battle, and some of them inform us that as he
approached the English lines, he produced a sort of panic amongst them
by his juggling tricks. It says not a little for the correctness of the
delineations of the Tapestry, and of the authenticity of the _Roman de
Rou_, that neither of them refers to these improbable stories, however
great the pictorial effect of them might have been. As, however, the
verses of Gaimar, describing the
[Illustration: PLATE XIV]
apocryphal exploits of Taillefer, possess considerable interest, it may
be well to introduce them here in the garb in which they have been
clothed by Mr. Amyot, in the _Archæologia_,[96]
“Foremost in the bands of France,
Arm’d with hauberk and with lance,
And helmet glittering in the air,
As if a warrior-knight he were,
Rushed forth the minstrel Taillefer.--
Borne on his courser swift and strong,
He gaily bounded o’er the plain,
And raised the heart-inspiring song
(Loud echoed by the warlike throng)
Of Roland and of Charlemagne,
Of Oliver, brave peer of old,
Untaught to fly, unknown to yield,
And many a knight and vassal bold,
Whose hallowed blood, in crimson flood,
Dyed Roncevalles’ field.
Harold’s host he soon descried,
Clustering on the hill’s steep side:
Then, turned him back brave Taillefer,
And thus to William urged his prayer:
‘Great Sire, it fits not me to tell
How long I’ve served you, or how well;
Yet if reward my lays may claim,
Grant now the boon I dare to name:
Minstrel no more, be mine the blow
That first shall strike yon perjured foe.’
‘Thy suit is gained,’ the Duke replied,
‘Our gallant minstrel be our guide.’
‘Enough,’ he cried, ‘with joy I speed,
Foremost to vanquish or to bleed.’
And still of Roland’s deeds he sung,
While Norman shouts responsive rung,
As high in air his lance he flung,
With well directed might;
Back came the lance into his hand,
Like urchin’s ball, or juggler’s wand,
And twice again, at his command,
Whirled it’s unerring flight.--
While doubting whether skill or charm
Had thus inspired the minstrel’s arm,
The Saxons saw the wondrous dart
Fixed in their standard-bearer’s heart.
Now thrice aloft his sword he threw,
’Midst sparkling sunbeams dancing,
And downward thrice the weapon flew,
Like meteor o’er the evening dew,
From summer sky swift glancing:
And while amazement gasped for breath,
Another Saxon groaned in death.
More wonders yet!--on signal made,
With mane erect, and eye-balls flashing,
The well-taught courser rears his head,
His teeth in ravenous fury gnashing;
He snorts--he foams--and upward springs--
Plunging he fastens on the foe,
And down his writhing victim flings,
Crushed by the wily minstrel’s blow.
Thus seems it to the hostile band
Enchantment all, and fairy land.
Fain would I leave the rest unsung:--
The Saxon ranks, to madness stung,
Headlong rushed with frenzied start,
Hurling javelin, mace, and dart;
No shelter from the iron shower
Sought Taillefer in that sad hour;
Yet still he beckoned to the field,
‘Frenchmen, come on.--the Saxons yield--
Strike quick--strike home--in Roland’s name--
For William’s glory--Harold’s shame.’
Then pierced with wounds, stretched side by side,
The minstrel and his courser died.”
The charge of Taillefer roused the mettle of both parties. “Forthwith
arose the noise and cry of war, and on either side the people put
themselves in motion.” “Some were striking, others urging onwards; and
all were bold, and cast aside fear.”
“Loud and far resounded the bray of the horns and the shocks of the
lances; the mighty strokes of clubs, 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. Then came the cunning manœuvres, the rude shocks and
strokes of the lance, and blows of the sword, 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.” In this way the struggle proceeded for
several hours. The Saxons had an arduous part to sustain; for, as shewn
in the Tapestry, they were attacked on all sides.
Early in the battle the brothers of Harold, Gurth and Leofwin fell. The
fact is indicated by the superscription, HIC CECIDERUNT LEWINE ET GURTH
FRATRES HAROLDI REGIS--Here fell Leofwin and Gurth, the brothers of
Harold the King. Bravely had they sustained their brother in his
efforts to resist the invader, and doubtless they had, in the excess of
their zeal, needlessly hazarded their lives. According to Wace, they did
not fall until after Harold had been slain. This is one of the points in
which the worsted chronicle differs from the _Roman de Rou_. In a
battle, where all is confusion--where few can obtain a general view of
what passes--and where each is intensely occupied with his own
foeman--it is exceedingly difficult for any one to give a just account
of the whole scene, or to reconcile the conflicting statements of
others. All our historians agree that both the brothers of Harold were
slain in the battle of Hastings;--had it been otherwise William would
not have been crowned at Westminister that Christmas.
Following, on the Tapestry, the death of Gurth and Leofwin (_Plate XV._)
is a scene thus labelled: HIC CECIDERUNT SIMUL ANGLI ET FRANCI IN
PRELIO. The scene is here most animated. Saxons and Normans are mingled
in a close encounter. Horses and men exhibit the frantic contortions of
dying agony. At the further end of the compartment a party of Saxons,
posted on a hill, exposed to the enemy on one side, but protected by a
forest (represented by a tree) on the other, seem to be making head
against their assailants. The Normans had attacked the Saxon encampment
with the utmost impetuosity in front and in flank. The Saxons maintained
their ground well, but some, through fear or misadventure, were
constrained to flee. The victorious Normans, strongly armed and well
mounted, pursued the flying footmen. In doing so, they left not only
their own army, but that of Harold in
[Illustration: PLATE XV.]
the rear. Soon a swampy valley was to be encountered. The retreating
English, climbing the opposite hill, paused, at once to take breath and
to examine their position. Finding the Normans struggling with the
difficulties of the morass, and conscious of the advantage which their
elevated position gave them, they wheeled about, and became the
attacking party. Their efforts were crowned with success; the invaders
were thrown into a state of confusion nearly inextricable. But it is
necessary now to refer to our authorities. The account given in the
_Roman de Rou_ of this important part of the events of that eventful day
is the following: “In the plain was a fosse, which the Normans now had
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 said they who saw the dead.” The account given in the
_Chronicle of Battle Abbey_ is similar. “There lay between the hostile
armies a certain dreadful precipice.... It was of considerable extent,
and being overgrown with bushes or brambles, was not very easily seen,
and great numbers of men, principally Normans in pursuit of the English,
were suffocated in it. For, ignorant of the danger, as they were running
in a disorderly manner, they fell into the chasm, and were fearfully
dashed to pieces and slain. And this pit, from this deplorable accident,
is still called _Malfosse_.” With these statements that of William of
Malmesbury agrees--“By frequently making a stand, they slaughtered their
pursuers in heaps; for, getting possession of an eminence, they drove
down the Normans, when roused with indignation and anxiously striving to
gain the higher ground, into the valley beneath, when, easily hurling
their javelins and rolling down stones on them as they stood below, they
destroyed them to a man.” With these descriptions the delineation of the
Tapestry agrees in a remarkable manner. The only point which remains for
us is to identify the scene of this skirmish with some locality in the
vicinity of Battle. This Mr. Lower enables us to do. “There is no place
near Battle which can, with a due regard to the proprieties of language,
be called a ‘dreadful precipice’ (_miserabile præceipitium vaste
patens_), though, by comparing Malmesbury with the Monk of Battle, I
think I have succeeded in identifying the locality of this ‘bad
ditch.’[97] From all the probabilities of the case, it would seem that
the flight and pursuit must have lain in a north-westerly direction,
through that part of the district known as Mountjoy. Assuming this, the
eminence alluded to must have been the ridge rising from Mount Street to
Caldbeck Hill, and the _Malfosse_ some part of the stream which, flowing
at its feet, runs in the direction of Watlington, and becomes a
tributary of the Rother. This rivulet occasionally overflows its banks,
and the primitive condition of the adjacent levels was doubtless that
of a morass, overgrown with flags, reeds, and similar bog vegetables.
Thanks, however, to good drainage, this ‘bad ditch’ no longer remains.
The name was corrupted, previously to 1279, to Manfosse, and a piece of
land called Wincestrecroft, in Manfosse, was ceded to the Abbey of
Battle in that year. Now Wincestrecroft is still well known, and lies in
the direction specified, west by north of the present town of
Battle.”[98]
The English, after having exterminated their pursuers, regained the
eminence on which the main body was encamped.
This was the most critical period of the day’s fight. The varlets who
had been set to guard the harness of the Normans, began to abandon it.
The priests who had confessed and blessed the army in the morning, and
had meanwhile retired to a neighbouring height, began to take themselves
off. In this extremity Odo interfered, and turned the fate of the
battle. The description in the _Roman de Rou_ precisely corresponds with
the drawing in the Tapestry. Wace says, “Then 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 it please God, 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 a hauberk on, over a white aube,
wide in the body, with the sleeves tight; and sat on a white horse, so
that all might recognize him. In his hand he held a mace, and wherever
he saw most need, he led up and stationed the knights, and often urged
them on to assault and strike the enemy.” With this description the
Tapestry exactly accords, except in the colour of the horse; it however
represents it as being sufficiently conspicuous.
The inscription is HIC ODO EPISCOPUS TENENS BACULUM CONFORTAT
PUEROS--Here Odo holding a staff exhorts the soldiers.[99] The staff
which Odo wields is, I suspect, the badge of command--the marshal’s
baton as it were--and not a weapon, as some writers suppose. William
himself, in the next group, is represented with a similar implement.
During the middle ages the priests of the sanctuary were not
unfrequently to be found in the battle-field. Some of them were much
more at home in the midst of the _melée_ than in guiding sin-stricken
souls to a Saviour. The bold Bishop of Durham, Anthony Beck, never left
the precincts of his castle but in magnificent military array. He fought
personally at the battle of Falkirk, and drew from a soldier, who felt
perhaps a superstitious dread at aiming a deadly blow at one invested
with the sacred office, the merited rebuke, “To your mass, O priest.”
Richard I., when at war with Philip of France, took a French Bishop
prisoner. The Pope sent to demand his liberation, claiming him as a son
of the church. Richard upon this sent the Bishop’s coat of mail to the
Pope, just as it was, besmeared with the blood of the slain, employing
the words of Jacob’s sons, “This have we found; know now whether it be
thy son’s coat or no.” The canon laws indeed forbade a priest to shed
blood; but this was evaded, it is said, by the use of a mace instead of
a sword. The warrior-priest did not stab a man; he only brained him. It
is on this ground that the baton held by Odo has been considered by some
writers to be a weapon.
In consequence of the confusion and panic which attended the disasters
in the Malfosse, a report was spread among the Normans that William was
dead. At the same time, too, according to one writer,[100] Eustace Count
of Boulogne strongly urged the Duke to withdraw his forces from the
field, considering the battle to be lost beyond recovery. A Saxon shaft
at that moment laid Eustace low, and delivered William from his
importunity. The Duke, nothing daunted by this disaster, rushed among
his troops, encouraged his men to maintain the combat, and to assure
them of the falsehood of the report of his death, raised his helmet and
exhibited himself to his people. This act is exhibited in the Tapestry
(_Plate XV._); at the same time, his standard-bearer, who never left him
throughout the day, draws attention to the circumstance. The group is
labelled, HIC EST DVX WILEL:--Here is Duke William. By these energetic
means the Normans returned to the onset.
The Tapestry shows us the fearful slaughter which took place on that
hard-fought field. The border is filled with dead men and horses lying
in every conceivable position; a head is not unfrequently deposited at
some distance from the body to which it once belonged. We can scarcely
look upon the drawing without being impressed with the idea that the
designer of the Tapestry had been the witness of some fight. It is said
that when a man receives a mortal wound, his body is thrown for the
moment into violent spasmodic action. So much is this the case, that you
may tell the effect of a death-bringing volley by noticing how many
unhappy wretches make a sudden leap. In the Tapestry something of this
spasmodic action is manifested, and some of the men are coming to the
ground in such a posture as they could only do after having sprung up
from it.[101]
The battle had now lasted the greater part of the day. “From nine
o’clock in the morning till three in the afternoon 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.... 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. 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 (_Plate XVI._) and threw it away, breaking it with his hands; and
the pain to his head was so great that he leaned upon his shield.” Still
the English did not yield, and Harold, though grievously hurt,
maintained his ground.
At length the device was adopted which put victory into the hands of the
Normans. Harold, knowing William’s skill in strategy, exhorted his
troops at the beginning of the fight to keep their ground, and not
suffer themselves to be drawn into a pursuit. Had his troops been
well-trained men, to whom obedience is a second nature, that battle had
probably not been lost. Many of them however had been brought from the
fields, and were unable to resist the prospect of inflicting deserved
vengeance upon their adversaries. Harold’s troops were the more likely
to fall into the snare laid for them, in consequence of the success
which attended, in an earlier part of the day, the attack upon the
pursuing Normans in the Malfosse.
William’s army fled by little and little, 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. ‘Cowards,’ said they, ‘you came hither in an
evil hour, wanting our lands, and seeking to seize our property, fools
that you were to come! Normandy is too far off, and you will not easily
reach it ... your sons and daughters are lost to you!’ The Normans bore
these taunts very quietly, as indeed they easily might, for they did not
know what the English said.”
At length the time arrived for the assailants to come to a stand. The
English had broken rank; the valley, too, had been crossed, and the
Normans were now standing above the Saxons on the flank of the hill on
the top of which they had formed in the morning.
At the word of command, DEX AIE, the Normans halted, and turned their
faces towards the enemy. Now commenced the fiercest part of that bloody
day’s encounter. Neither party was wanting in courage. All the
chroniclers do justice to the contending forces. “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 _melée_ fierce.
On every hand they fight hard, the blows are heavy, and the struggle
becomes fierce.”
As neither the horrors nor the gallantry exhibited on a battle-field can
be comprehended by a general description, it may be well here to
introduce an account of one or two of the individual encounters
occurring at this period, with which Wace supplies us.
“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 a 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 a 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
Montgomery came galloping up, with his lance set, and heeding not the
long-handled axe which the Englishman 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 _melée_ 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 of them 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. Fearing the two bills, he
raised his shield by the ‘enarmes,’ and struck one of the Englishmen
with his lance on the breast, so that the iron passed out at the back.
At the moment that he fell, the lance broke, and the Frenchman seized
the mace that hung at his right side, and struck the other Englishman a
blow that completely fractured his scull.”
The slaughter at this period of the day must have been fearful. The
chronicler of Battle Abbey says, “Amid these miseries there was
exhibited a fearful spectacle: the fields were covered with dead bodies,
and on every hand nothing was to be seen but the red hue of blood. The
dales around sent forth a gory stream, which increased at a distance to
the size of a river! How great think you must have been the slaughter of
the conquered, when the conquerors’ is reported, upon the lowest
computation, to have exceeded ten thousand? Oh how vast a flood of human
gore was poured out in that place where these unfortunates fell and were
slain! What a dashing to pieces of arms, what a clashing of strokes;
what shrieks of dying men; what grief; what sighs were heard! How many
groans; how many bitter notes of direst calamity then sounded forth, who
can rightly calculate! What a wretched exhibition of human misery was
there to call forth astonishment! In the very contemplation of it our
heart fails us.”[102]
Notwithstanding the horrors of the scene, and the hopelessness of their
efforts, the courage of the Saxons failed not; sometimes fleeing, and
sometimes making a stand, they slaughtered their pursuers in heaps.
The place where this havoc took place is probably the southern front of
the eminence on which Battle Abbey was afterwards placed. The whole site
of the contest has sometimes been denominated “Sanguelac,” or the “Lake
of Blood,” but this designation properly belongs to that part in which
the street of the modern town of Battle called “the Lake” is situated.
Until a very recent period this place was supposed still occasionally to
reek with human gore. “Thereabout,” says Drayton, “is a place which
after rain always looks red, which some have attributed to a very bloody
sweat of the earth, as crying to heaven for revenge for so great a
slaughter.”
“ ... Asten once distained with native English blood;
Whose soil, when wet with any little rain,
Doth blush, as put in mind of those there sadly slain.”
The truth is “the redness of the water here, and at many other places in
the neighbourhood, is caused by the oxydation of the iron which abounds
in the soil of the Weald of Sussex.”[103]
To return to the battle, “Loud was now the clamour, and great the
slaughter; many a soul then quitted the body which 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
reached the English standard.” The Tapestry represents the eager advance
of a body of horsemen. The compartment is inscribed, HIC FRANCI PUGNANT
ET CECIDERUNT QUI ERANT CUM HAROLDO--Here the French are fighting, and
have slain the men who were with Harold. “There Harold had remained,
defending himself to the utmost; but he was sorely wounded in the eye by
the arrow, and suffered grievous pain by 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.” This is shown in the Tapestry (_Plate XVI._) Harold
first of all appears standing by his standard, contending with a
horseman who is making a rush at him; then he is shown pulling the arrow
out of his eye; and lastly he is seen, falling--
“With his back to the field, and his feet to the foe,”
--his battle axe has dropped from his nerveless grasp, and a Norman,
[Illustration: PLATE XVI.]
stooping from his horse, inflicts a wound upon his thigh. The group is
superscribed, HIC HAROLD REX INTERFECTUS EST--Here Harold the King is
slain.[104]
“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 now that there was no longer any hope, so they left
the field and those fled who could.” Ingulph tells us that all the
nobles that were in Harold’s army were slain;[105] we are hence led to
infer that it was the untrained peasantry only who betook themselves to
flight. The Tapestry is in consistency with this. The last compartment
represents a group of men unprotected by body armour, and supplied only
with a mace or club, retreating before a party of fully equipped
horsemen. The inscription is, ET FUGA VERTERUNT ANGLI--And the English
betake themselves to flight.
Happily the exact spot on which the final struggle of the day took place
is clearly ascertained. The writer of the _Battle Abbey Chronicle_
tells us, that the King having resolved to commemorate his victory by
the erection of a Christian temple, the high altar was placed upon the
precise spot where the standard was observed to fall.[106] Long after
all traces of the Abbey Church had been obliterated, the finger of
tradition faithfully pointed to the spot so interesting to all
Englishmen. In the year 1817, the proprietor of the soil, anxious to
test the truth of the popular belief, made the necessary excavations,
and in the very place indicated, at the depth of several feet below the
surface, found the remains of an altar in the easternmost recess of the
crypt of the church.[107]
William on that day fought well--as well he might, for he had engaged in
a desperate venture--“many a blow did he give, and many receive, and
many fell dead under his hand.” Two horses were killed under him. After
the English had been exterminated, or had forsaken the field, the Duke
returned thanks to God, and ordered his gonfanon to be erected where
Harold’s standard had stood. Here, too, he raised his tent. Amidst the
dying and the dead he partook of his evening meal and passed the night.
The next morning which dawned upon that sad battle field was the
Sabbath. On that first day of the week no heavenly choir sang of peace
on earth and good will toward men. The human family was exhibited in
its most painful aspect, “hateful and hating one another”--that field
but recently covered over with the golden sheaves of harvest, now bore
upon its surface the gory fruits of man’s ambition.
“When William called over the muster-roll, which he had prepared before
he left the opposite coast, many a knight, who on the day when he
sailed, had proudly answered to his name, was then numbered with the
dead. The land which he had done homage for was useless to him
now.”[108] He had come to win large domains and baronial honours--six
feet of common earth was all he got. “The Conqueror had lost more than
one-fourth of his army.”[109] Both parties spent the day in burying the
dead. “The noble ladies of the land also came, some to seek their
husbands, and others their fathers, sons, or brothers.”
The account given by Ordericus of the disposal of Harold’s body is the
following: “Harold could not be discovered by his features, but was
recognized by other tokens, and his corpse being borne to the Duke’s
camp, was, by order of the Conqueror, delivered to William Mallet for
interment near the sea-shore, which had long been guarded by his
arms.”[110] William of Poictiers gives a similar statement. Later
writers say that his body was interred with regal honours in Waltham
Abbey. This tradition, which probably had its origin in the wish of the
monks to attract visitors to the shrine at Waltham, cannot be
entertained, in opposition to the express statements of contemporaries.
Some venture, too, to assert that, though sorely wounded at Hastings, he
was not killed, and that, on escaping from the field, he first fled to
the continent, and afterwards led the life of a recluse at Chester. This
is a statement which may at once be rejected.
The difficulty in discovering the body to which Ordericus refers was, it
is generally believed, overcome by Edith, surnamed, from her beauty, the
Fair. The keen eye of affection discerned his mangled form amidst heaps
of dead, which appeared to common observers an undistinguishable mass.
What will not woman’s love accomplish!
Many writers have done great dishonour to this lady by stating that she
was the mistress of Harold. Sir Henry Ellis, in his _Introduction to
Domesday Book_, has proved that she was his Queen; “Aldith, Algiva or
Eddeva, being names which are all synonymous.” Unhappy Elfgyva, how
different her feelings now from what they were when the clerk announced
to her, in his own familiar way, the rescue of Harold from the capture
of Guy!