earthly lifetime, and dreary years they were. In 1087 William returned
to Normandy for the last time. The French king was making trouble;
some say that the quarrel began between the younger members of the
family, others that Philip demanded that William should do homage
for England. Ordericus Vitalis, the most truthful of the Norman
historians, declares that the dispute was about the proprietorship of
the French districts of the Vexin.
The Conqueror was an old man now, older than his years; he had never
quite recovered from his fall when Robert unhorsed him at the castle
of Gerberoi; besides he had suffered from other illness, and had grown
very stout, and the doctors at Rouen were taking him in charge. The
king of France joked insolently about his illness, and at the end of
July William started furiously on his last campaign, and no doubt
took vast pleasure in burning the city of Mantes. When the fire was
down he rode through the conquered town, his horse stepped among some
smouldering firebrands and reared, throwing his clumsy rider suddenly
forward against the high pommel of the saddle, a death-blow from
which he was never to recover. He was carried back to Rouen a worse
case for the doctors' skill than ever, and presently fever set in,
and torture followed torture for six long weeks. The burning fever,
the midsummer heat, the flattery or neglect of his [Pg338] paid
attendants; how they all reminded him and made him confess at last
his new understanding and sorrow for the misery he had caused to many
another human being! Yet we can but listen forgivingly as he says: "At
the time my father went of his own will into exile, leaving to me the
Duchy of Normandy, I was a mere child of eight years, and from that
day to this I have always borne the weight of arms."
The three sons, Rufus William, Robert Curt-hose, and Henry Beauclerc,
were all eager to claim their inheritance, but the king sends for
Anselm, the holy abbot, and puts them aside while he makes confession
of his sins and bravely meets the prospect of speedy death. He gives
directions concerning the affairs of England and Normandy, gives
money and treasure to poor people and the churches; he even says
that he wishes to rebuild the churches which were so lately burnt at
Mantes. Then he summons his sons to his bedside and directs those
barons and knights who were present to be seated, when, if we may
believe Ordericus the Chronicler, the Conqueror made an eloquent
address, reviewing his life and achievements and the career of many
of his companions. The chronicle writers had a habit of putting
extremely pious and proper long speeches into the mouths of dying
kings, and as we read these remarks in particular we cannot help a
suspicion that the old monk sat down in his cell some time afterward
and quietly composed a systematic summary of what William would
have said, or ought to have said if he could. Yet we may believe in
the [Pg339] truth of many sentences. We do not care for what he
expressed concerning Mauger or King Henry, the battle of Mortemer or
Val-ès-dunes, but when he speaks of his loyalty to the Church and his
friendship with Lanfranc, and Gerbert, and Anselm, of his having built
seventeen monasteries and six nunneries, "spiritual fortresses in
which mortals learn to combat the demons and lusts of the flesh"; when
he tells his sons to attach themselves to men of worth and wisdom and
to follow their advice, to follow justice in all things and spare no
effort to avoid wickedness, to assist the poor, infirm, and honest, to
curb and punish the proud and selfish, to prevent them from injuring
their neighbors, devoutly to attend holy church, to prefer the worship
of God to worldly wealth;—when he says these things we listen, and
believe that he was truly sorry at last for the starving homeless
Englishmen who owed him their death, for even the bitter resentment he
showed for the slaughter of a thousand of his brave knights within the
walls of Durham. He dares not give the ill-gotten kingdom of England
to anybody save to God, but if it be God's will he hopes that William
Rufus may be his successor. Robert may rule Normandy. Henry may take
five thousand pounds' weight of silver from the treasury. It is true
that he has no land to dwell in, but let him rest in patience and be
willing that his brothers should precede him. By and by he will be
heir of everything.
At last the king unwillingly gives permission for Odo's release
along with other prisoners of state. [Pg340] He prophesies that Odo
will again disturb the peace and cause the death of thousands, and
adds that the bishop does not conduct himself with that chastity and
modesty which become a minister of God. For a last act of clemency
he gives back to Baudri, the son of Nicolas, all his lands, "because
without permission he quitted my service and passed over into Spain.
I now restore them to him for the love of God; I do not believe that
there is a better knight under arms than he, but he is changeable and
prodigal, and fond of roving into foreign countries."
On the morning of the eighth of September the great soul took its
flight. The king was lying in restless, half-breathless sleep or
stupor when the cathedral bells began to ring, and he opened his eyes
and asked what time it was. They told him it was the hour of prime.
"Then he called upon God as far as his strength sufficed, and on our
holy lady, the blessed Mary, and so departed while yet speaking,
without any loss of his senses or change of speech."
"At the time when the king departed this world, many of his servants
were to be seen running up and down, some going in, others coming
out, carrying off the rich hangings and the tapestry, and whatever
they could lay their hands upon. A whole day passed before the corpse
was laid upon its bier, for they who were wont before to fear him now
left him lying alone. But when the news spread much people gathered
together, and bishops and barons came in long procession. The body was
well tended and carried to Caen as he had before commanded. There was
no bishop in the province, nor abbot, nor noble [Pg341] prince, who
did not go to the burying if he could, and there were besides many
monks, priests, and clerks."
So writes Master Wace in his long rhyme of the Conquest; but the rhyme
does not end as befits the Conqueror's fame. The chanting monks had
hardly set the body down within the church, at the end of its last
journey, when there was a cry of fire without, and all the people
ran away and left the church empty save for the few monks who stayed
beside the bier. When the crowd returned the service went on again,
but just as the grave was ready a vavasour named Ascelin, the son of
Arthur, pushed his way among the bishops and barons, and mounted a
stone to make himself the better heard—"Listen to me, ye lords and
clerks!" he cries; "ye shall not bury William in this spot. This
church of St. Stephen is built on land that he seized from me and my
house. By force he took it from me, and I claim judgment. I appeal to
him by name that he do me right."
"After he had said this he came down. Forthwith arose great clamor in
the church, and there was such tumult that no one could hear the other
speak. Some went, others came; and all marvelled that this great king,
who had conquered so much and won so many cities and so many castles,
could not call so much land his own as his body might be covered in
after death."
We cannot do better than end with reading the Saxon chronicle, which
is less likely to be flattering than the Norman records. [Pg342]
"Alas, how false and unresting is this earth's weal! He that erst was
a rich king, and lord of many lands; had then of all his lands but
seven feet space; and he that was once clad with gold and gems, lay
overspread with mold! If any one wish to know what manner of man he
was, or what worship he had, or of how many lands he was the lord,
then will we write of him as we have known him; for we looked on him
and somewhile dwelt in his herd.
"This King William that we speak about was a very wise man and very
rich; more worshipped, and stronger than any of his foregangers were.
He was mild to the good men that loved God, and beyond all metes stark
to those who withsaid his will. On that same ground where God gave him
that he should win England, he reared a noble minster and set monks
there and well endowed it.
"Eke he was very worshipful. Thrice he wore his king-helm (crown),
every year as oft as he was in England. At Easter he wore it at
Winchester; at Pentecost at Westminster; at midwinter at Gloucester,
and then were with him all the rich men over all England: archbishops
and diocesan bishops; abbots and earls; thanes and knights. Truly he
was so stark a man and wroth that no man durst do any thing against
his will. He had earls in his bonds who had done against his will.
Bishops he set off their bishoprics, and abbots off their abbacies,
and thanes in prison. And at last he did not spare his brother Odo;
him he set in prison. Betwixt other things we must not forget the good
peace that he [Pg343] made in this land, so that a man that was worth
aught might travel over the kingdom unhurt with his bosom full of
gold. And no man durst slay another man though he had suffered never
so mickle evil from the other.
"He ruled over England, and by his cunning he had so thoroughly
surveyed it, that there was never a hide of land in England that he
wist not both who had it and what its worth was, and he set it down in
his writ. Wales was under his weald, and therein he wrought castles;
and he wielded Manncynn withal. Scotland he subdued by his mickle
strength. Normandy was his by kin—and over the earldom that is called
Mans he ruled. And if he might have lived yet two years he had won
Ireland, and without any armament.
"Truly in his time men had mickle taxing and many hardships. He let
castles be built, and poor men were sorely taxed. The king" (we might
in justice read oftener the king's officers)—"The king was so very
stark, and he took from his subjects many marks of gold and many
hundred pounds of silver, and that he took of his people some by
right and some by mickle unright, for little need. He was fallen into
covetousness, and greediness he loved withal.
"The king and the head men loved much, and over much, the getting in
of gold and silver, and recked not how sinfully it was got so it but
came to them....
"He set many deer-friths and he made laws therewith, that whosoever
should slay hart or hind, him [Pg344] man should blind. And as he
kept to himself the slaying of the harts, so eke did he the boars. He
loved the high deer as much as if he were their father. Eke he set as
to the hares that they should go free. His rich men bemoaned, and his
poor men murmured, but he recked not the hatred of them all, and they
must follow the king's will if they would have lands or goods or his
favor.
"Wa-la-wa! that any man should be so moody, so to upheave himself
and think himself above all other men! May God Almighty have
mild-heartedness on his soul and give him forgiveness of his sins!
These things we have written of him both good and evil, that men may
choose the good after their goodness, and withal flee from evil, and
go on the way that leadeth all to heaven's kingdom."
[Illustration]
[Pg345]
[Illustration]
XVII.
KINGDOM AND DUKEDOM.
"Yes, while on earth a thousand discords ring,
Man's senseless uproar mingling with his toil,
Still do thy quiet ministers move on."
—MATTHEW ARNOLD.
William Rufus hurried away to claim the kingdom of England before his
father died. Robert was at Abbeville, some say, with his singers and
jesters, making merry over the prospect of getting the dukedom. Henry
had put his five thousand pounds of silver into a strong box and gone
his ways likewise. Normandy was in the confusion that always befell a
country in those days while one master had put off his crown and the
next had not put it on. There were masses being said in the Norman
churches for the good of the Conqueror's soul, and presently, as the
autumn days flew by and grew shorter and shorter, news was received
that the English had received William Rufus and made him king with
great rejoicing. There was always much to hope from the accession of a
new monarch; he was sure to make many promises, and nobody knew that
he would not keep every one of them.
But neither in England nor Normandy did the [Pg346] outlook promise
great security. Robert was made duke, and Robert had plenty of
friends, whose love and favor were sure to last as long as his money
held out. He had a better heart than his brothers, but he was not
fit for a governor. "Robert, my eldest-born, shall have Normandy
and Maine," the Conqueror had told his barons on his death-bed. "He
shall serve the king of France for the same. There are many brave men
in Normandy; I know none equal to them. They are noble and valiant
knights, conquering in all lands whither they go. If they have a good
captain, a company of them is made to be dreaded, but if they have not
a lord whom they fear, and who governs them severely, the service they
render will soon be but poor. The Normans are worth little without
strict justice; they must be bent and bowed to their ruler's will, and
whoso holds them always under his foot and curbs them tightly, may get
his business well done by them. Haughty are they and proud, boastful
and arrogant; difficult to govern, and needing to be at all times kept
under, so that Robert will have much to do and to provide in order to
manage such a people."
The dying king may have smiled grimly at the thought that Robert's
ambition knew not what it asked. The gay gentleman had given his
father trouble enough, but the weight of Normandy should be his to
carry. The red prince, William, had been a dutiful son, and he wished
him joy of England. He was order-loving, and had a head for governing.
"Poor lads!" the old father may have sighed more than once. It was
all very well to be princes and [Pg347] knights and gay riders and
courtiers, but the man who has a kingdom to govern must wend his ways
alone, with much hindrance and little help.
The two courts bore little likeness to the Conqueror's as time went
on, and there was endless dissension among the knights. In England
the Normans complained greatly of the division of the kingdom and
the duchy. Odo, who had regained his earldom of Kent, was full of
mischievous, treacherous plans, and had no trouble in persuading other
men that they stood no chance of holding their lands or keeping their
rights under Rufus; it would be much better to overthrow him and to do
homage to Robert of Normandy in the old fashion. Robert was careless
and easy, and William was strong and self-willed. Robert was ready to
favor this party at once, and after a while William discovered what
was going on, and found the rebels under Odo were fortifying their
castles and winning troops of followers to their side—in fact, England
was all ready for civil war. The king besieged Odo forthwith in the
city of Rochester, and there was a terrible end to the revolt. Robert
had been too lazy or too inefficient to keep his promise of coming
to the aid of his allies, and disease broke out in the garrison and
raged until Odo sent messengers to ask forgiveness, and to promise
all manner of loyalty and penitence. The king was in a state of fury,
and meant to hang the leaders of the insurrection and put the rest
to death by the most ingenious tortures that could be invented. At
last, however, his own barons and officers made piteous pleas for the
lives [Pg348] of their friends and relatives, and in the end they
were driven out and deprived of their English estates, and Odo was
altogether banished from the country. No longer an earl, he went back
much humbled to his bishopric of Bayeux, which Robert had been foolish
enough to restore to him. But the intrigues went on. The Norman
barons in England were separated from their hereditary possessions
in Normandy, and William Rufus owed the safety of his crown to the
upholding of the English. Presently he went over to Normandy, where
things were getting worse and worse under Robert's rule, and announced
his intention of seizing the silly duke's dominions. Robert had
already sold the Côtentin to Henry for a part of the five thousand
pounds in the strong box, and after a good deal of dissension, and a
prospect of a long and bloody war, which the nobles on both sides did
every thing they could to prevent, the brothers made up their quarrel.
They signed an agreement that the one who outlived the other should
inherit all the lands and wealth, and then they made a league to go
and fight Henry Beauclerc, who was living peaceably enough on his
honestly-got Côtentin possessions. They chased him out of the country
to the French Vexin, where he spent a forlorn year or two; but he
could afford to wait for his inheritance, as the Conqueror had told
him long before.
William Rufus went back to England, and in the course of time there
was a war with the Scotch, who were defeated again and again and
finally made quiet. Then the Welsh rebelled in their turn and [Pg349]
were much harder to subdue. Robert got the king of France to join
forces with him soon afterward, and that war was only avoided by the
payment to France by Rufus of an enormous sum of money.
All this time William Rufus was doing some good things for his
kingdom and a great many more bad ones that there is not time to
describe. After Lanfranc's death the king grew worse and worse; he
was apparently without any religious principle, and there was always
a quarrel between him and the priests about the church money, which
both of them wanted. When bishops and abbots died the king would
not appoint their successors, and took all the tithes for himself.
His chief favorite was a low-born, crafty, wicked man named Ralph
Flambard, and the two were well matched. William Rufus had little of
the gift for business that made his father such a practical statesman
and organizer, and, in fact, his boisterous, lawless, indecent manner
of living shocked even the less orderly of his subjects. He had the
lower and less respectable of the Norman qualities, and something of
the rudeness of the worst of his more remote ancestry crops out in
his conduct. Once when he was very ill and was afraid that he was
going to die with all his sins on his head, he sent for Anselm, the
holy prior, his father's friend and counsellor, and appointed him to
the archbishopric of Canterbury, which had been vacant ever since
Lanfranc's death four years before. Rufus' guilty conscience was
quieted, and the people of England were deeply thankful for such a
prelate, but before long the king and Anselm naturally did not find
[Pg350] each other harmonious, and after a brave fight for what he
believed to be the right, Anselm appealed to Rome and left England
with orders never to return.
Robert was the same careless man that he had been in his youth;
through war and peace, danger and security, he lived as if there
were no to-morrow to provide for and no future to be dreaded. I have
sketched the course of affairs as briefly as possible in both England
and Normandy, as if the only men within their borders were these two
incompetent brothers who so ill became the Conqueror's "kingly helm,"
as Master Wace loves to call the crown. But the church builders were
still at work like ants busy with their grains of sand, towers were
rising, knights were fighting and parading, ladies were ordering their
households, the country men and women were tilling the green fields
of both countries and gathering in their harvests year by year. There
had been trouble now and then, as we have just seen, between the
kingdom and the duchy, between both of them and their border foes, but
almost ten years went by, and the children who had played with their
toys and sighed over their horn books the summer that William the
Conqueror died were now men and women grown. It would not seem like
the old Normandy if the news of some new great enterprise did not run
like wildfire through the towns and country lanes. The blood of the
Northmen was kindled with the blood of all Christendom at the story
of the Turks' capture of the Holy Sepulchre and the blessed city of
Jerusalem. The knights of Sicily were already on their journey by sea
and shore; the mother church [Pg351] at Rome called to her children
in every land to defend her holiest shrines against the insolence of
the heathen.
Duke Robert was most zealous. To go on pilgrimage had been many a
knight's ambition, but this was the greatest pilgrimage of all.
Robert, as usual, had no money, but to his joy he succeeded in making
a bargain with his more thrifty English brother, and pledged Normandy
to William Rufus for five years for the sum of something less than
seven thousand pounds. Away he went with his lords and gentlemen;
they wore white crosses on their right shoulders, and sang hymns as
they marched along. Not only lords and gentlemen made up this huge
procession of thousands and thousands, but men of every station—from
the poor cottages and stately halls alike. If any better persuasion
had been needed than the simple announcement that the Turks had taken
Jerusalem, it had come by way of Peter the Hermit's preaching. This
had created a religious frenzy that the world had never known; from
town to town the great preacher had gone with an inexhaustible living
stream of persuasive eloquence always at his lips. Women wept and
prayed and gave their jewels and rich garments, and men set their
teeth and clenched their hands, armed themselves and followed him.
England did not listen at first, and William Rufus chuckled over his
good bargain, and taxed his unwilling subjects more heavily than ever
to get the money to pay his crusader brother. England would listen by
and by, but in this first crusade she took [Pg352] little part, while
the Normans and Frenchmen and all their neighbors spent three years of
fearful suffering and hardship in the strange countries of the East;
at last they won the Holy Sepulchre. The Turks were still fighting to
win it back again; they were dangerous enemies, and the Christian host
was dwindling fast. The cry was sent again through Europe for more
soldiers of the Holy Cross.
Here we come face to face again with the old viking spirit: under all
the fast-increasing luxury that threatened to sap and dull the life of
Normandy, the love of adventure and fierce energy of character were
only sleeping. The most sentimental and pleasure loving of Robert's
knights could lightly throw off his ribbons and gay trappings, and
buckle on his armor when the summons came. Quickly they marched and
fiercely they fought in the holy wars, and so it came about that the
Norman banners were planted at the gates of Jerusalem and Antioch, and
new kingdoms were planted in the East. This is not the place to follow
the Crusaders' fortunes, or the part that the Norman Sicilians played
in the great enterprise of the Middle Ages. At least it must make but
an incident in my scheme of the Story of the Normans.
* * * * *
There is a familiar modern sound in the bewailings of our old
chroniclers over their taxes. Resentment and pathos were blended then
as they are now in such complaints, but though William Rufus was not
the least of such extortionate offenders, he gave much of the money
back in fine buildings; the [Pg353] famous Great Hall of Westminster
was built in his day, and the stout wall that surrounded his father's
Tower of London, besides a noble bridge across the Thames.
When people expected unfailing generosity and gold thrown to the
crowd oftener than in these days, it is difficult to see how the king
could satisfy popular expectation without preliminary taxation. Yet
the wails of the chroniclers go up like the chirp of the grasshopper.
There was one mistaken scheme of benevolence in the endowment of
charities, which have borne bitter fruit of pauperism ever since, for
which taxation might well have been spared.