had renounced all his pagan ideas, and been christened and received
into the Church. We might expect that he would have pushed his own
countrymen forward and all the Danish interests, but it was quite
the other way. At the beginning of his reign he had executed several
powerful English nobles whose influence and antagonism he had reason
to fear; but now he favored the English in a marked way, and even
ordered his ships and all the pirates and fighting men back to the
North. It seems very strange, now, that a king of England ever reigned
over Sweden and Denmark, and Norway beside, but it seems as if Cnut
were prouder of being king of England than of all his other powers
and dignities. He was not only very gracious and friendly with his
English subjects at home, but he sent them abroad to be bishops, and
displeased the Danish parishes by such arrangements.
We all know the story of the rising tide, and Cnut's reproof to his
courtiers on the sea-shore. As we read about him we are reminded
a little of Rolf the Ganger, and his growth from pirate fashions
to a more gentle and decent humanity. The two men were not so very
unlike after all, but I must confess that I think with a good deal of
sympathy [Pg182] of Cnut's decision to go on a pilgrimage to Rome. It
was expecting a good deal of the young sea-rover that he should stay
quietly at home to rule his kingdom. The spirit of adventure stirred
in his veins, and we may be sure that he enjoyed his long and perilous
overland journey to Italy. He made the road safer for his countrymen
who might also have a pious desire to worship at the famous foreign
shrines. He complained to the emperor and the priests at Rome about
the robber-chiefs who pounced down upon travellers from their castles
in the Alps, and they promised to keep better order. The merchants
and pilgrims were often laden with rich offerings for the churches,
besides goods which they wished to sell, and the robbers kept watch
for them. Their ruined fortresses are still perched along the Alpine
passes, and one cannot help hoping that Cnut had some exciting
disputes with his enemies, and a taste of useful fighting and proper
discipline among the bold marauders.
He wrote a famous letter about his pilgrimage, directed to the
archbishops, and bishops, the great men, and all the people. He tells
whom he saw in Rome—the Pope, and the German Emperor, and other great
lords of the earth; and says, with pride, that every one has treated
him handsomely, and what fine presents he has had given him to carry
home. He had come to Rome for the good of his people, and for the
salvation of his own soul, he tells them seriously; and one thing he
did for England was to complain of the heavy taxes the church had put
upon it, and the Pope promised that such injustice [Pg183] should
not happen any more. There is something very touching in the way
that he says he had made a great many good resolves about his future
life, and that he is not ashamed to own that he has done wrong over
and over again, but he means, by God's help, to amend entirely. He
vows to Heaven that he will govern his life rightly, and rule his
kingdom honestly and piously, and that neither rich nor poor shall be
oppressed or hardshipped. There never was a better letter, altogether,
and Cnut kept his promises so well that the old Anglo-Saxon chronicle,
which aches with stories of war and trouble, grows quite dull now in
the later years of his reign. There was nothing to tell any more, the
monks thought who kept the record; but we know, for that very reason,
that the English farms flourished, and the wheat fields waved in the
summer wind, the towns grew rich, and the merchants prosperous; and
when the English-Northman king died, it was a sad day for England.
Cnut was only forty years old, but that was a long time for a king to
live. His son, Harold Harefoot, reigned in his stead, and many of the
old troubles of the country sprang up at once, as if they had only
been asleep for a little while, and were by no means out-grown or
ended.
Harold Harefoot was not in the least pious, and behaved himself
with most unreasonable folly, and fortunately died at the close of
four years of insult and unworthiness. Then Harthacnut, the younger
brother, was made king, and he promptly demanded a Danegelt, the most
hateful of taxes, and did [Pg184] a great many things which only
reopened the breach between Dane and Englishman, though it had seemed
to be smoothed over somewhat in his father's time. Harold had done one
brutal thing that towered above all the rest. The two princes who had
been living in Normandy thought there might be some chance of their
gaining a right to the throne, and the younger one, Ælfred, had come
over to England with his knights and gentlemen. Harold seized them and
was most cruel; he first blinded his half-brother and then had him put
to death. This made a great noise in Normandy, and there is one good
thing to be said about Harthacnut, that he was bitterly angry with his
brother, and also with Earl Godwine, a famous nobleman, who was the
most powerful man in England next the king. He was Cnut's favorite and
chief adviser, but Harthacnut suspected that he had a hand in Ælfred's
murder. Nobody has ever been quite clear about the matter. Godwine
and all his lords swore that he was innocent, and gave the king a
magnificent ship with all sorts of splendors belonging to it, besides
nearly a hundred men in full armor, and gold bracelets to make them as
grand as could be. So the king accepted Godwine's oath in view of such
a polite attention, but he asked Eadward to leave the Norman court and
come over to live with him. Eadward came, and in two years he was king
of England, Harthacnut having died a wretched drunken death.
So again there was a descendant of Ælfred the Great and the house of
Cerdic on the throne. Eadward was the last of the line, and in his
day began [Pg185] the most exciting and important chapter of English
history—the Norman Conquest.
We have come quickly along the line of Danish kings, and now it is
time to stop and take a more careful look at the state of manners and
customs in England, and make ourselves sure what the English people of
that time were like, how they lived in their houses, and what changes
had come to the country in general. There were certain hindrances to
civilization, and lacks of a fitting progress and true growth. Let
us see what these things were, and how the greater refinement of the
Normans, their superior gifts and graces, must come into play a little
later. There was some deep meaning in the fusion of the two peoples,
and more than one reason why they could form a greater nation together
than either Normans or Englishmen could alone.
First, the dwellers on English soil had shown a tendency, not
yet entirely outgrown, to fall back into a too great indulgence
in luxurious living. When the storm and strain of conquest, of
colonization, had spent itself, the Englishmen of Eadward's and Cnut's
time betook themselves to feasting and lawlessness, of the sort that
must undermine the vigor of any people. The fat of the land tempted
them in many ways, and they sank under such habits as quickly as they
had risen under the necessities that war makes for sacrifices and
temperance. They were suffering, too, from their insularity; they
were taken up with their own affairs, and had kept apart from the
progress of the rest of Europe. There was a new wave and impulse of
scholarship, which had not yet reached [Pg186] them. It was ebb-tide
in England in more ways than one; and time for those Normans to appear
who, to use the words of one of their historians, "borrow every thing
and make it their own, and their presence is chiefly felt in increased
activity and more rapid development of institutions, literature, and
art. Thus ... they perfect, they organize every thing, and everywhere
appear to be the master spirits of their age."
The English people had become so impatient of the misrule of Cnut's
sons, that the remembrance of Cnut's glories was set aside for the
time being, and no more Danish kings were desired. "All folk chose
Eadward to king," says the chronicle, and evidently the hearts of the
people were turned, full of hope and affection, to the exiled son of
Æthelred and Emma, who had been since his childhood at the Norman
court. His murdered brother Ælfred had been canonized by the romantic
sympathy of his English friends; he was remembered now as a saintly
young martyr to English patriotism, and the disreputable reign of
Cnut's sons had made the virtues of the ancient race of English kings
very bright by comparison. The new king must be of English blood and
a link with past prosperity. The son of Eadmund Ironside was an exile
also in the distant court of Hungary, but Eadward, a gentle, pious
man, was near at hand, and there were a thousand voices ready to shout
for him even while Harthacnut lay unburied in the royal robes and
trappings.
There was an opposition on the part of the Danes, who were naturally
disinclined to any such change, [Pg187] and when the formal election
and consecration of the new king took place, some months after this
popular vote, all Earl Godwine's power and influence were brought to
bear before certain important votes could be won. Indeed, at first
Eadward himself was apparently hard to persuade to accept his high
office. He seems to have been much more inclined to a religious
life than to statesmanship, but between much pushing from behind in
Normandy and the eager entreaties of his English friends, he was
forced to make his way again across the Channel. There are interesting
accounts, which may or may not be true, of his conversations with
Godwine; but the stronger man prevailed. The very promise he made
to uphold the new king's rights might make Eadward feel assured and
hopeful of some stability and quietness in his reign. England was
far behind Normandy in social or scholarly progress; to reign over
Englishmen did not appear the most rewarding or alluring career to
the fastidious, delicate, cloister-man. The rough-heartiness and
red-cheeked faces of his subjects must have contrasted poorly with his
Norman belongings, so much more refined and thoughtful, not to say
adroit and dissembling. England was still divided into four parts, as
Cnut had left it. His scheme of the four great earldoms had proved a
bad one enough, for it had only made the nation weaker, and kept up
continual rivalries and jealousies between the lords of Northumbria,
Mercia, East Anglia, and Wessex. The northern territory was chiefly
Danish in its traditions, and though there was a nominal subjection
to the king, Northumbria was [Pg188] almost wholly independent of
any over-rule. In Mercia, Lady Godiva and Earl Leofric were spending
their lives and their great wealth, chiefly in furthering all sorts of
religious houses and good works of the churches.
The greatest earl of all was Godwine of Wessex, the true leader of
the English and a most brave and loyal man. Cnut had trusted him, and
while there were enough jealous eyes to look at his kingly prosperity,
and malicious tongues ready to whisper about his knowledge of young
Ælfred's murder, or his favor and unrighteous advancement of his own
family to places of power, Godwine still held the confidence of a
great faction among the English people. His son Harold was earl of
East Anglia, and they were lawful governors, between them, of the
whole southern part of the kingdom. It was mainly through Godwine's
influence that Eadward was crowned king, and we may look to the same
cause for his marriage with the earl's daughter Edith, but the line
of English princes, of whom Godwine hoped to be ancestor, never
appeared, for the king was childless, and soon made an enemy of his
father-in-law. Some people say that Godwine did not treat his royal
son with much respect having once put him on the throne. Eadward too
never was able to forget the suspicion about Ælfred's murder, so
the breach between him and the great earl was widened year by year.
Eadward was not the sturdy English monarch for whom his people had
hoped; he was Norman at heart, as a man might well be who had learned
to speak in the foreign tongue, and had made the friendships of
his [Pg189] boyhood and manhood in the duke's court and cloisters.
Priestcraft was dearer to him than statecraft, and his name of The
Confessor showed what almost saintly renown he had won from those who
were his friends and upholders.
It did not suit very well that one Norman gentleman after another came
to London to fill some high official position. Eadward appeared to
wish to surround himself wholly with Normans, and the whole aspect of
the English court was changed little by little. The king proved his
own weakness in every way—he was as like Æthelred the Unready as a
good man could be like a bad one.
Godwine grew more and more angry, and his determination to show that
England could do without the crowds of interlopers who were having
every thing their own way worked him disaster for a time. There was
a party of the king's friends journeying homeward to Normandy, who
stopped overnight in the city of Dover and demanded its hospitality
in insolent fashion. The Dover men would not be treated like slaves,
and a fight followed in which the Frenchmen were either killed or
driven out of the town. Eadward of course sided with his friends,
and was very indignant; he sent orders to Earl Godwine, who was
governor of the region, to punish the offenders, but Godwine refused
squarely unless the men should have been fairly tried and given a
chance to speak for themselves. This ended in a serious quarrel, and
the king gained a victory without any battle either, for there was a
sudden shifting of public feeling in Eadward's favor—Godwine's own
men forsook him [Pg190] and were loyal to the crown, and the great
earl was banished for conscience sake, he and all his family, for the
king even sent away his own wife, though he kept all her lands and
treasures, which was not so saint-like and unworldly as one might
have expected. One of Godwine's sons had proved himself a very base
and treacherous man, and the earl had shielded him; this was one
reason why his defence of English liberty was so overlooked by his
countrymen, but the Normans had a great triumph over this defeat, and
praised the pious king and told long stories of his austere life, his
prayers, and holy life. After he was canonized these stories were
lengthened still more, but while he was yet without a halo some of his
contemporaries charge him with laziness and incapacity. He certainly
was lacking in kingly qualities, but he gained the respect and love
of many of his subjects, and was no doubt as good as so weak a man
could be. After his death Englishmen praised him the more because they
liked William the Conqueror the less, and as for the Normans they
liked anybody better than Harold, who had been a much more formidable
opponent in his claim to the English crown. Mr. Freeman says: "——————
The duties of secular government ... were ... always something which
went against the grain. His natural place was not on the throne of
England, but at the head of a Norman abbey.... For his virtues were
those of a monk; all the real man came out in his zeal for collecting
relics, in his visions, in his religious exercises, in his gifts to
churches and monasteries, in his desire to mark his [Pg191] reign as
its chief result, by the foundation of his great abbey of Saint Peter
at Westminster. In a prince of the manly piety of Ælfred things of
this sort form only a part, a pleasing and harmonious part, of the
general character. In Eadward they formed the whole man."
The chronicler who writes most flatteringly of him acknowledges that
he sometimes had shocking fits of bad temper, but that he was never
betrayed into unbecoming language. On some occasions he was hardly
held back by Godwine or Harold from civil war and massacre; though he
was conscientious within the limit of his intelligence, and had the
art of giving a gracious refusal and the habit of affability and good
manners. William of Malmesbury, the chronicler, tells us that he kept
his royal dignity, but that he took no pleasure in wearing his robes
of state, even though they were worked for him by his affectionate
queen. Like his father, he was ever under the dominion of favorites,
and this was quickly enough discovered and played upon by Norman
ecclesiastics and Norman and Breton gentlemen in search of adventure
and aggrandizement. It makes a great difference whether we read the
story of this time in English or in French records. Often the stories
are directly opposite to each other, and only the most careful steps
along the path keep one from wandering off one way or the other
into unjust partisanship. Especially is this true of Godwine, the
confessor's great contemporary. He seems, at any rate, to have been
a man much ahead of his time in knowledge of affairs and foresight
of the probable effects [Pg192] from the causes of his own day.
His brother earls were jealous of him; the Church complained of his
lack of generosity; even his acknowledged eloquence was listened to
incredulously; and his good government of his own provinces, praised
though it was, did not gain him steady power. His good government
made him, perhaps more than any thing else, the foremost Englishman
of his time, and presently we shall see how deep a feeling there
was for him in England, and how much confidence and affection were
shown in his welcome back from exile, though he had been allowed to
go away with such sullen disapproval. Godwine's wife, Gytha, was a
Danish woman, which was probably a closer link with that faction in
the northern earldom than can be clearly understood at this late day.
Lord Lytton's novel, called "Harold," makes this famous household seem
to live before our eyes, and the brief recital of its fortunes and
conditions here cannot be more than a hint of the real romance and
picturesqueness of the story.
The absence of Godwine in Flanders—a whole year's absence—had taught
his countrymen what it was to be without him. They were sadly annoyed
and troubled by the king's continued appointment of Normans to every
place of high honor that fell vacant. Bishoprics and waste lands alike
were pounced upon by the hangers-on at court, and castles were lifting
their ugly walls within sight of each other almost, here and there in
the quiet English fields. Even in London itself the great White Tower
was already setting its strong foundations; [Pg193] a citadel for the
town, a fort to keep the borderers and Danes at bay were necessary
enough to a country, but England was being turned into another
Normandy and Brittany, with these new houses that were built for war,
as if every man's neighbor were his enemy. The square high towers were
no fit places for men to live in who tilled the soil and tended their
flocks and herds. There were too many dark dungeons provided among the
foundation stones beside, and the English farmers whispered together
about their new townsfolk and petty lords, and feared the evil days
that were to come.
The ruined Roman houses and strange tall stones of the Druid temples
were alike thrown down and used to build these new castles. Men who
had strayed as far as the Norman coasts had stories enough to tell;
what landmarks of oppression these same castles were in their own
country, and how the young Duke William had levelled many of them to
the ground in quarrelsome Normandy. There was no English word for this
awesome new word—/castles!/ The free and open halls of the English
thanes were a strange contrast to the new order of dwelling-places.
Robert of Jumièges had been made Archbishop of Canterbury, and a
host of his countrymen surrounded the king more and more closely and
threatened to deprive the English of their just rights. It was this
monk Robert who had "beat into the king's head" that his brother
Ælfred had come to his death through Earl Godwine.
It is very easy to tell the story of the Normans from the English
side. Let us cross the Channel again [Pg194] to Rouen and see what
effect the condition of English affairs was having upon the young
duke. It would not be strange if his imagination were busy with some
idea of enlarging his horizon by a look at his neighbors. Eadward
had no heir, they had talked together oftentimes, perhaps, about
the possibility of making one noble great kingdom by the joining of
England and Normandy. Every day more stories reached his ears of the
wealth and fruitfulness of the Confessor's kingdom.
[Illustration]
[Pg195]
[Illustration]
X.
THE BATTLE OF VAL-ÈS-DUNES.
"Who stood with head erect and shining eyes,
As if the beacon of some promised land
Caught his strong vision, and entranced it there."
—A. F.
The Viking's grandchildren had by no means lost their love for
journeying by land or sea. As in old Norway one may still find bits of
coral and rudely shaped precious stones set in the quaintly wrought
silver ornaments made by the peasants, so in Normandy there are pieces
of Spanish leather and treasures from the east and from the south,
relics of the plundering of a later generation. Roger de Toesny, one
of William's fiercest enemies, does not become well-known to us until
we trace out something of his history as a wanderer before he came to
join Talvas in a well-planned rebellion.
In Duke Richard the Good's time there was a restless spirit of
adventure stirring in Norman hearts, and the foundations were laid of
the Southern kingdoms which made such a change in Europe. A Norman
invasion of Spain came to nothing in comparison with those more
important settlements, but in 1018 Roger de Toesny carried the Norman
[Pg196] arms into the Spanish peninsula. A long time before this
Richard the Fearless had persuaded a large company of his Scandinavian
subjects to wander that way, being pagan to the heart's-core and
hopelessly inharmonious. Roger followed them on a grand crusade
against the infidel Saracen, and also hoped to gain a kingdom for
himself. He was of the noblest blood in Normandy, of Rolf the Ganger's
own family, and well upheld the warlike honor of his house in his
daring fights with the infidel. Almost unbelievable stories are told
of his cannibal-like savagery with his captives, but the very same
stories are told of another man, so we will not stop to moralize upon
Roger's wickedness. He married the Spanish countess of Barcelona, who
did homage to the king of France, and every thing looked prosperous at
one time for his dominion, but it never really took root after all,
and de Toesny went back again to Normandy, and blazed out instantly
with tremendous wrath at the pretentions of William the Bastard. He
could not believe that the proud Norman barons and knights would ever
submit to such a degradation. De Talvas was only too glad to greet so
sympathetic an ally, and the opposition to the young duke took a more
formidable shape than ever before.