which the Round Tower stands may or may not be pre-historic. The
slopes of the hill were inhabited, like nearly all our English sites,
by the Romans, and by the savages before and after the Romans; but the
welter of the Saxon dark ages did not use this abrupt elevation for a
stronghold. What military reasoning led William of Falaise to discern
it at once and there to build his keep?
In order to answer that question let us consider what other points in
the valley were at his disposal.
Reading we have discussed. The chalk spurs in the gorge by Goring and
Pangbourne are not isolated (as is that of Chateau Gaillard, for
instance), and are dominated by the neighbouring heights. The
escarpment opposite Henley offered a good site for an eleventh-century
castle--but the steep cliff of Windsor had this advantage beyond all
the others--that it was at exactly the right distance from London.
Windsor is the warden of the capital.
If the reader will look at a modern geological map, he will see from
Wallingford to Bray a great belt of chalk in which the trench of the
Thames is carved. Alluvials and gravels naturally flank the stream,
but chalk is the ground rock of the whole. To the west and to the east
of this belt he will notice two curious isolated patches, detached
from the main body of the chalk. That to the west forms the twin
height of the Sinodun Hills, rising abruptly out of the green sand;
that to the east is the knoll of Windsor, rising abruptly out of the
thick and damp clay. It is a singular and unique patch, almost exactly
round, and as a result of some process at which geology can hardly
guess the circle is bisected by the river. If ever the chalk of the
north bank rose high it has, in some manner, been worn down. That on
the south bank remains in a steep cliff with which everyone who uses
the river is familiar. It was the summit of this chalk hill piercing
through the clays that the Conqueror noted for his purpose, and he
was, to repeat, determined (we must presume) by the distance from
London.
The command of a great town, especially a metropolis, is but partially
effected by a fortress situated within its limits. In case of a
popular revolt, and still more in case the resources of the town are
held by an enemy, such a fortress will be penned in and find itself
suffering a siege far more rigorous than any that could be laid in an
open country-side. On this account the urban fortresses of the Middle
Ages are to be found (at least in large cities) lying upon an extreme
edge of the walls and reposing, as far as possible, upon uninhabited
land or upon water, or both. The two classic examples of this rule
are, of course, the Tower and the Louvre, each standing down stream,
just outside the wall, and each reposing on the river.
But in an active time even this precaution fails, and that for two
reasons. First, the growth of the town makes any possible garrison of
the fortress too small for the force with which it might have to cope;
and, secondly, this same growth physically overlaps the exterior
fortress; suburbs grow up beyond the wall, and the castle finds itself
at last embedded in the town. Thus within a hundred and fifty years of
its completion the Louvre was but a residence, wholly surrounded, save
upon the water front, by the packed houses within the new wall of
Marcel.
A tendency therefore arises, more or less early according to local
circumstance, to establish a fortified base within striking distance
of the civilian centre which it is proposed to command; and striking
distance is a day's march. The strict alliance between Paris and the
Crown forbade such an experiment to the Capetian Monarchy, but, even
in that case, the truth of the general military proposition involved
is proved by the power which Montlhéry possessed until the middle of
the twelfth century of doing mischief to Paris. In the case of London,
and of a population the wealthier of whom were probably for some years
hostile to the Conqueror, the immediate necessity for an exterior base
presented itself, and though the distance from London was indeed
considerable, Windsor, under the circumstances of that moment, proved
the most suitable point at which to establish the fortress.
Some centuries earlier or later the exact point for fortification
would have lain at _Staines_, and Windsor may be properly regarded as
a sort of second best to Staines.
The great Roman roads continued until the twelfth century to be the
main highways of the barbaric and mediæval armies. We know, for
instance, from a charter of Westminster's, that Oxford Street was
called, in the last years of the Saxon Dynasty, "Via Militaria," and
it was this road which was still in its continuation the marching road
upon London from the south and west: from Winchester, which was still
in a fashion the capital of England and the seat of the Treasury. Now
Staines marks the spot where this road crossed the river. It was a
"nodal point," commanding at once the main approach to London by land
and the main approach by water.
But there is more than this in favour of Staines. I have already said
that a fortress commanding a civilian population--an ancient fortress,
at least--can do so with the best effect at the distance of an easy
march. Now Staines is not seventeen miles from Tyburn, and a good road
all the way: Windsor is over twenty, and for the last miles there was
no good, hard road in the time of its foundation.
But, though Staines had all these advantages, it was rejected from a
lack of position. Position was still of first importance, and remained
so till the seventeenth century. The new Castle, like so many hundred
others built by the genius of the same race, must stand on a steep
hill even if the choice of such a site involved a long, instead of a
reasonable, day's march. Windsor alone offered that opportunity, and,
standing isolated upon the chalk, beyond the tide, accessible by water
and by road, became to London what, a hundred years later, Chateau
Gaillard was to become for a brief space to Rouen.
The choice was made immediately after the Conquest. In the course of
the Dark Ages whatever Roman farms clustered here had dwindled, the
Roman cemetery was abandoned, the original name of the district
forgotten, and the Saxon "Winding Shore" grew up at Old Windsor, two
or three miles down stream. Old Windsor was not a borough, but it was
a very considerable village. It paid dues to its lords to the amount
of some twenty-five loads of corn and more--say 100 quarters--and it
had at least 100 houses, since that number is set down in Domesday,
and, as we have previously said, Domesday figures necessarily express
a minimum. We may take it that its population was something in the
neighbourhood of 1000.
This considerable place was under the lordship of the abbots of
Westminster. It had been a royal manor when Edward the Confessor came
to the throne; he gave it to his new great abbey. When the Conqueror
needed the whole neighbourhood for his new purpose he exchanged it
against land in Essex, which he conveyed to the abbey, and he added
(for the manorial system was still flexible) half a hide from Clewer
on the west side of the Windsor territory. This half-hide gave him his
approach to the platform of chalk on which he designed to build.
He began his work quickly. Within four years of Hastings, and long
before the conquest of the Saxon aristocracy was complete, he held his
Court at Windsor and summoned a synod there, and, though we do not
know when the keep was completed, we can conjecture, from the rapidity
with which all Norman work was done, that the walls were defensible
even at that time. Of his building perhaps nothing remains. The forest
to the south, with its opportunities for hunting, and the increasing
importance of London (which was rapidly becoming the capital of
England) made Windsor of greater value than ever in the eyes of his
son. Henry I. rebuilt or greatly enlarged the castle, lived in it, was
married in it, and accomplished in it the chief act of his life, when
he caused fealty to be sworn to his daughter, Matilda, and prepared
the advent of the Angevin. When the civil wars were over, and the
treaty between Henry II. and Stephen was signed, Windsor ("Mota de
Windsor"), though it does not seem to have stood a siege, was counted
the second fortress of the realm.
Of the exact place of Windsor in mediæval strategy, of its relations
to London and to Staines, and all we have just mentioned, as also of
the great importance of cavalry in the Middle Ages, no better example
can be quoted than the connected episode of April-June 1215, which may
be called--to give it a grandiose name--the Campaign of Magna Charta.
It further illustrates points which should never be forgotten in the
reading of early English history, though they are too particular for
the general purpose of this book--to wit, the way in which London
increased in military value throughout the twelfth and thirteenth
centuries; the strategic importance of the few old national roads as
late as the reign of John, and that power of the defensive, even in
the field, which made general and strategic, as opposed to tactical,
attack so cautious, decisive action so rare, and when it _was_
decisive, so thorough.
This book is no place wherein to develop a theme which history will
confirm with regard to the aristocratic revolt against the vice and
the genius of the third Plantagenet. The strategy of the quarrel alone
concerns us.
When John's admirable diplomacy had failed (as diplomacy will under
the test of arms), and when his Continental allies had been crushed at
Bouvines in the summer of 1214, the rebels in England found their
opportunity. The great lords, especially those of the north, took oath
in the autumn to combine. The accounts of this conspiracy are
imperfect, but its general truth may be accepted. John, who from this
moment lay perpetually behind walls, held a conference in the Temple
during the January of 1215--to be accurate, upon the Epiphany of that
year--and he struck a compact with the conspirators that there should
be a truce between their forces and those of the Crown until Low
Sunday--which fell that year upon the 26th of April. The great nobles,
mistrusting his faith with some justice (especially as he had taken
the Cross), gathered their army some ten days before the expiry of the
interval, but, as befitted men who claimed in especial to defend the
Catholic Church and its principles, they were scrupulous not to engage
in actual fighting before the appointed day. The size of this army we
cannot tell, but as it contained from 2000 to 3000 armed and mounted
gentlemen it must have counted at least double that tale of cavalry,
and perhaps five-, perhaps ten-fold the number of foot soldiers. A
force of 15,000 to 30,000 men in an England of some 5,000,000 (I more
than double the conventional figures) was prepared to enforce feudal
independence against the central government, even at the expense of
ceding vast territories to Scotland or of submitting to the nominal
rule of a foreign king. Against this army the King had a number of
mercenaries, mainly drawn from his Continental possessions, probably
excellent soldiers, but scattered among the numerous garrisons which
it was his titular office to defend.
In the last days of the truce the rebels marched to Brackley and
encamped there on Low Monday--the 27th April. The choice of the site
should be noted. It lies in a nexus of several old marching roads. The
Port Way, a Roman road from Dorchester northward, the Watling Street
all lay within half-an-hour's ride. The King was at Oxford, a day's
march away. They negotiated with him, and their claims were refused,
yet they did not attack him (though his force was small), partly
because the function of government was still with him and partly
because the defensive power of Oxford was great. They wisely preferred
the nearest of his small official garrisons-that holding the castle of
Northampton. They approached it up the Roman road through Towcester.
They failed before it after two weeks of effort, and marched on to the
next royal post at Bedford, which was by far the nearest of the
national garrisons. It was betrayed to them. When they were within the
gates they received a message from the wealthier citizens of London
(who were in practice one with the Feudal Oligarchy), begging them to
enter the capital.
What followed could only have been accomplished: by cavalry, by
cavalry in high training, by a force under excellent generalship, and
by one whose leaders appreciated the all-importance of London in the
coming struggle. The rebels left Bedford immediately, marched all that
day, all the succeeding night, and early on the Sunday morning, 24th
May, entered London, and by the northern gate. Their entry was not
even challenged.
From Bedford to St. Paul's is--as the crow flies--between forty and
fifty miles: whatever road a man may take would make it nearer fifty
than forty. Bearing, as did this army, towards the east until it
struck the Ermine Street, the whole march must have been well over
fifty miles.
This fine feat was not a barren one: it was well worth the effort and
loss which it must have cost. London could feed, recruit, and remount
an army of even this magnitude with ease. The Tower was held by a
royal garrison, but it could do nothing against so great a town.
From London, as though the name of the city had a sort of national
authority, the Barons, who now felt themselves to be hardly rebels but
almost co-equals in a civil war, issued letters of mandate to others
of their class and to their inferiors. These letters were obeyed, not
perhaps without some hesitation, but at any rate with a final
obedience which turned the scale against the King. John was now in a
very distinct inferiority, and even of his personal attendants a
considerable number left the Court on learning of the defection of
London. In all this long struggle nothing but the occupation of the
capital had proved enough to make John feign a compromise. As
excellent an intriguer as he was a fighter he asked nothing better
than to hear once more the terms of the Barons.
He proceeded to _Windsor_, asked for a parley, issued a safeguard to
the emissaries of the Barons, and despatched this document upon the
8th June, giving it a validity of three days. His enemies waited
somewhat longer, perhaps in order to collect the more distant
contingents, and named Runnymede--a pasture upon the right bank of the
Thames just above _Staines_--as the place of meeting.
There are those who see in the derivation of the name "Runnymede" an
ancient use of the meadow as a place of council. This is, of course,
mere conjecture, but at any rate it was, at this season of the year, a
large, dry field, in which a considerable force could encamp. The
Barons marched along the old Roman military road, which is still the
high-road to Staines from London, crossed the river, and encamped on
Runnymede. Here the Charta was presented, and probably, though not
certainly, signed and sealed. The local tradition ascribes the site of
the actual signature to "Magna Charta" island--an eyot just up-stream
from the field, now called Runnymede, but neither in tradition nor in
recorded history can this detail be fixed with any exactitude. The
Charta is given as from Runnymede upon the 15th June, and for the
purpose of these pages what we have to note is that these two months
of marching and fighting had ended upon the strategic point of
Staines, and had clearly shown its relation to Windsor and to London.
In the short campaign that followed, during which John so very nearly
recovered his power, the capital importance of Windsor reappears.
Louis of France, to whom the Barons were willing to hand over what was
left of order in England, had occupied all the south and west,
including even Worcester, and, of course, London. In this occupation
the exception of Dover, which the French were actively besieging, must
be regarded as an isolated point, but _Windsor_, which John's men held
against the allies, threw an angle of defence right down into the
midst of the territory lost to the Crown. Windsor was, of course,
besieged; but John's garrison, holding out as it did, saved the
position. The King was at Wallingford at one moment during the siege;
his proximity tempted the enemy to raise the siege, to leave Windsor
in the hands of the royal garrison, and to advance against him, or
rather to cut him off in his advance eastward. They marched with the
utmost rapidity to Cambridge, but John was ahead of them: and before
they could return to the capture of Windsor he was rapidly confirming
his power in the north and the east.
It must not be forgotten in all this description that Windsor was
helped in its development as a fortress by the presence to the south
of the hill of a great space of waste lands.
These waste lands of Western Europe, which it was impossible or
unprofitable to cultivate, were, by a sound political tradition,
vested in the common authority, which was the Crown.
Indeed they still remain so vested in most European countries. The
Cantons of Switzerland, the Communes and the National Governments of
France, Italy, and Spain remain in possession of the waste. It is only
with us that wealthy private owners have been permitted to rob the
Commonwealth of so obvious an inheritance, a piece of theft which they
have accomplished with complete cynicism, and by specific acts whose
particular dates can be quoted, though historians are very naturally
careful to leave the process but vaguely analysed. Indeed, the last
and most valuable of these waste spaces, the New Forest itself, might
have entirely disappeared had not Charles I. (the last king in England
to attempt a repression of the landed class) so forcibly urged the
local engrosser to disgorge as to compel him, with Hampden and the
rest, to a burning zeal for political liberty.
This great waste space to the south of Windsor Hill became, after the
Conquest, the Forest, and apart from the hunting which it afforded to
the Royal palace, served a certain purpose on the military side as
well.
To develop a thought which has already been touched on in these pages,
mediæval fortification was dual in character: it had either a purely
strategical object, in which case the site was chosen with an eye to
its military value, whether inhabited or not, or the stronghold or
fortification was made to develop an already existing town or site of
importance. Of the second sort was Wallingford, but of the first sort,
as we have seen, was Windsor. Indeed the distinction is normal to all
fortification and exists upon the Continent to-day. For instance, the
first-class fortress Paris is an example of the second sort, the
first-class fortress Toul of the first. Again, all German fortresses,
without exception, are of the second sort, while all Swiss
fortification, what little of it exists, is of the first.
Now where the first category is concerned a waste space is of value,
though its dimensions will vary in military importance according to
the means of communication of the time. A stronghold may be said to
repose upon that side through which communications are most difficult.
It is true that this space lying to the south of Windsor was of no
very great dimensions, but such as it was, uninhabited and therefore
unprovided with stores of any kind, it prevented surprise from the
south.
The next point of strategic importance on the Thames, and the last, is
the Tower.
Though it is below bridges it must fall into the scheme of this book,
because its whole military history and connection with the story of
England is bound up with the inland and not with the estuarial river.
It was, as has already been pointed out, one long day's march from
Windsor--a march along the old Roman road from Staines. This land
passage more than halved the distance by river, it cut off not only
the numerous large turns which the Thames begins to take between
Middlesex and Surrey, but also the general sweep southward of the
river, and it avoided, what another road might have necessitated, the
further crossing of the stream.
Long as the march is, there was no fortification of importance between
one point and the other, and mediæval history is crammed with
instances of armies leaving the Tower to march to Windsor in one day,
or leaving Windsor to march to the Tower.
The position of the Tower we saw in an earlier page to be due to the
same geographical causes as had built up so many of the urban
strongholds of Europe. It was situated upon the very bank of the river
which fed the capital, it was down stream from the town, and it was
just outside the walls. In a word, it was the parallel of the Louvre.
Its remote origins are doubtful; some have imagined that they are
Roman, and that if not in the first part of the Roman occupation at
least towards the end of those wealthy and populous three centuries,
which are the foundation and the making of England, some fortification
was built on the brow of the little eminence which here slopes down to
the high-water mark.
I will quote the evidence, such as it is, and the reader will perceive
how difficult it is to arrive at a conclusion.
Of actual Roman remains all we have is a couple of coins of the end of
the fourth century (probably minted at Constantinople), a silver ingot
of the same period, and a funeral inscription. No indubitably Roman
work has been discovered.
On the other hand there has been no modern investigation of those
foundations of the White Tower where, if anywhere, Roman work might be
expected. This exhausts the direct evidence. In sciences such as
geology or the criticism of Sacred Books evidence to this extent would
be ample to overset the firmest traditions or the most self-evident
conclusion of common human experience. But history is bound to a
greater caution, and it must be reluctantly admitted that the two
coins, the ingot and the bit of stone are insufficient to prove the
existence of a Roman fortress.
Leaving such material and direct evidence we have the tradition, which
is a fairly strong one, of Roman fortification here, and we have the
analogy, so frequently occurring in space and time throughout the
history and the area of Western Europe, that Gaul reproduces Rome.
What the Conqueror saw (it might be vaguely argued) to be the
strategical position for London, that a Roman emperor would have seen.
But against this argument from tradition, which is fairly strong, and
that argument from analogy, which is weak, we have other and contrary
considerations.
Rome even in her decline did not build her citadels outside the walls:
that was a habit which grew up in the Dark and early Middle Ages, and
was attached to the differentiation between the civic and military
aspects of the State.
Again, Roman fortification of every kind is connected with earthworks.
So far as we can tell from recorded history the ditch round the Tower
was not dug till the end of the twelfth century. Finally, there is
this strong argument against the theory of a Roman origin to the Tower
that had such a Roman fortress existed an extension of the town would
almost certainly have gathered round it.
One of the features of the break-up of Roman society was the enormous
expansion of the towns. We have evidence of it on every side and
nowhere more than in Northern Africa. This expansion took place
everywhere, but especially and invariably in the presence of a
garrison, and indeed the military conditions of the fourth century,
with its cosmopolitan and partially hereditary army, fixed in
permanent garrisons and forming as it were a local caste, presupposed
a large dependent civilian population at the very gates of the camp or
stronghold. Thus you have the Palatine suburb to the south of Lutetia
right up against the camp, and Verecunda just outside Lamboesis. Now
there is nothing of the sort in the neighbourhood of the Tower. It
seems certain that from the earliest times London ended here cleanly
at the wall, and that except along the Great Eastern Road the
neighbourhood of the Tower was agricultural land.