WILLIAM'S REIGN IN NORMANDY.
A.D. 1040-1060
A lapse of twenty years.--Conspiracy of Guy of Burgundy.--The fool
or jester.--Meetings of the conspirators.--Final plans of the
conspirators.--Discovered by Galet.--Galet sets out in search of
William.--He finds him asleep.--William's flight.--His narrow
escape.--William is recognized.--Hubert's castle.--Hubert's
sons.--Pursuit of the conspirators.--Defeat of the rebels.--Their
punishment.--Curious incident.--Coats of armor.--Origin of
heraldry.--Rollo de Tesson.--Keeping both oaths.--Changing
sides.--Character of the ancient chieftains.--Their love of
war.--Ancient castles.--Their interior construction.--Nothing
respectable for the nobility but war.--Rebellions.--Insulting allusions
to William's birth.--The ambuscade.--Its failure.--Insults of the
garrison.--Indignation of William.--William's campaign in France.--His
popularity.--William's prowess.--True nature of courage.--An
ambuscade.--William's bravery.--William's victory.--Applause of the
French army.--William firmly seated on his throne.--His new projects.
From the time of William's obtaining quiet possession of his realm to
his invasion of England, a long period intervened. There was a lapse of
more than twenty years. During this long interval, William governed his
duchy, suppressed insurrections, built castles and towns, carried on
wars, regulated civil institutions, and, in fact, exercised, in a very
energetic and successful manner, all the functions of government--his
life being diversified all the time by the usual incidents which mark
the career of a great military ruler of an independent realm in the
Middle Ages. We will give in this chapter a description of some of these
incidents.
On one occasion a conspiracy was formed to take his life by secret
assassination. A great chieftain, named Guy of Burgundy, William's
uncle, was the leader of it, and a half-witted man, named Galet, who
occupied the place of jester or fool in William's court, was the means
of discovering and exposing it. These jesters, of whom there was always
one or more in the retinue of every great prince in those days, were
either very eccentric or very foolish, or half-insane men, who were
dressed fantastically, in gaudy colors and with cap and bells, and were
kept to make amusement for the court. The name of William's jester was
Galet.
Guy of Burgundy and his fellow-conspirators occupied certain gloomy
castles, built in remote and lonely situations on the confines of
Normandy. Here they were accustomed to assemble for the purpose
of concocting their plans, and gathering their men and their
resources--doing every thing in the most cunning and secret manner.
Before their scheme was fully ripe for execution, it happened that
William made a hunting excursion into the neighborhood of their
territory with a small band of followers--such as would be naturally got
together on such a party of pleasure. Galet, the fool, was among them.
As soon as Guy and his fellow-conspirators learned that William was so
near, they determined to precipitate the execution of their plan, and
waylay and assassinate him on his return.
They accordingly left their secret and lonely rendezvous among the
mountains one by one, in order to avoid attracting observation, and
went to a town called Bayeux, through which they supposed that William
would have to pass on his return. Here they held secret consultations,
and formed their final plans. They sent out a part of their number, in
small bands, into the region of country which William would have to
cross, to occupy the various roads and passes, and thus to cut off all
possibility of his escape. They made all these arrangements in the most
secret and cautious manner, and began to think that they were sure of
their prey.
It happened, however, that some of William's attendants, with Galet the
fool among them, had preceded William on his return, and had reached
Bayeux[F] at the time when the conspirators arrived there. The
townspeople did not observe the coming of the conspirators particularly,
as many horsemen and soldiers were coming and going at that time, and
they had no means of distinguishing the duke's friends from his enemies;
but Galet, as he sauntered about the town, noticed that there were many
soldiers and knights to be seen who were not of his master's party.
This attracted his attention; he began to watch the motions of these
strangers, and to listen, without seeming to listen, in order to catch
the words they spoke to each other as they talked in groups or passed
one another in the streets. He was soon satisfied that some mischief
was intended. He immediately threw aside his cap and bells, and his
fantastic dress, and, taking a staff in his hand, he set off on foot to
go back as fast as possible in search of the duke, and give him the
alarm. He found the duke at a village called Valonges. He arrived there
at night. He pressed forward hastily into his master's chamber, half
forcing his way through the attendants, who, accustomed to the liberties
which such a personage as he was accustomed to take on all occasions,
made only a feeble resistance to his wishes. He found the duke asleep,
and he called upon him with a very earnest voice to awake and arise
immediately, for his life was in danger.
[Footnote F: See map, chapter ix.]
William was at first inclined to disbelieve the story which Galet told
him, and to think that there was no cause to fear. He was, however, soon
convinced that Galet was right, and that there was reason for alarm. He
arose and dressed himself hastily; and, inasmuch as a monarch, in the
first moments of the discovery of a treasonable plot, knows not whom to
trust, William wisely concluded not to trust any body. He went himself
to the stables, saddled his horse with his own hand, mounted him, and
rode away. He had a very narrow escape; for, at the same time, while
Galet was hastening to Valonges to give his master warning of his
danger, the conspirators had been advancing to the same place, and had
completely surrounded it; and they were on the eve of making an attack
upon William's quarters at the very hour when he set out upon his
flight. William had accordingly proceeded only a little way on his route
before he heard the footsteps of galloping horses, and the clanking of
arms, on the road behind him. It was a troop of the conspirators coming,
who, finding that William had fled, had set off immediately in pursuit.
William rode hastily into a wood, and let them go by.
[Illustration: WILLIAM'S ESCAPE.]
He remained for some time in his hiding-place, and then cautiously
emerged from it to continue his way. He did not dare to keep the public
road, although it was night, but took a wild and circuitous route, in
lanes and bypaths, which conducted him, at length, to the vicinity of
the sea. Here, about day-break, he was passing a mansion, supposing that
no one would observe him at so early an hour, when, suddenly, he
perceived a man sitting at the gate, armed and equipped, and in an
attitude of waiting. He was waiting for his horse. He was a nobleman
named Hubert. He recognized William immediately as the duke, and
accosted him in a tone of astonishment, saying, "Why, my lord duke, is
it possible that this is you?" He was amazed to see the ruler of the
realm out at such an hour, in such a condition, alone, exhausted, his
dress all in disorder from the haste with which he had put it on, and
his steed breathless and covered with dust, and ready, apparently, to
drop down with fatigue and exhaustion.
William, finding that he was recognized, related his story. It appeared,
in the end, that Hubert held his own castle and village as a tenant of
one of the principal conspirators, and was bound, according to the
feudal ideas of the time, to espouse his landlord's cause. He told
William, however, that he had nothing to fear. "I will defend your
life," said he, "as if it were my own." So saying, he called his three
sons, who were all athletic and courageous young men, and commanded them
to mount their horses and get ready for a march. He took William into
his castle, and gave him the food and refreshment that he needed. Then
he brought him again into the court-yard of the house, where William
found the three young horsemen mounted and ready, and a strong and fleet
steed prepared for himself. He mounted. Hubert commanded his sons to
conduct the prince with all dispatch to Falaise, without traveling at
all upon the highway or entering a town. They took, accordingly, a
straight course across the country--which was probably then, as now,
nearly destitute of inclosures--and conducted William safely to his
castle at Falaise.
In the course of the morning, William's pursuers came to Hubert's
castle, and asked if the duke had been seen going by. Hubert replied in
the affirmative, and he mounted his steed with great readiness to go and
show them the road which the fugitive had taken. He urged them to ride
hard, in hopes of soon overtaking the object of their pursuit. They
drove on, accordingly, with great impetuosity and ardor, under Hubert's
guidance; but, as he had purposely taken a wrong road, he was only
leading them further and further astray. Finally they gave up the chase,
and Hubert returned with the disappointed pursuers to his fortress,
William having in the mean time arrived safely at Falaise.
The conspirators now found that it was useless any longer to attempt to
conceal their plans. In fact, they were already all exposed, and they
knew that William would immediately summon his troops and come out to
seize them. They must, therefore, either fly from the country or attempt
an open rebellion. They decided on the latter--the result was a civil
war. In the end, William was victorious. He took a large number of the
rebels prisoners, and he adopted the following very singular plan for
inflicting a suitable punishment upon them, and at the same time
erecting a permanent monument of his victory. He laid out a public road
across the country, on the line over which he had been conducted by the
sons of Hubert, and compelled the rebels to make it. A great part of
this country was low and marshy, and had been for this reason avoided by
the public road, which took a circuitous course around it. The rebel
prisoners were now, however, set at work to raise a terrace or
embankment, on a line surveyed by William's engineers, which followed
almost exactly the course of his retreat. The high road was then laid
out upon this terrace, and it became immediately a public thoroughfare
of great importance. It continued for several centuries one of the most
frequented highways in the realm, and was known by the name of the
Raised Road--_Terre levee_--throughout the kingdom. In fact, the remains
of it, appearing like the ruins of an ancient rail-road embankment,
exist to the present day.
In the course of the war with these rebels a curious incident occurred
at one of the battles, or, rather, is said to have occurred, by the
historians who tell the story, which, if true, illustrates very
strikingly the romantic and chivalrous ideas of the times. Just as the
battle was commencing, William perceived a strong and finely-equipped
body of horsemen preparing to charge upon the very spot where he
himself, surrounded by his officers, was standing. Now the armor worn by
knights in battle in those times covered and concealed the figure and
the face so fully, that it would have been impossible even for
acquaintances and friends to recognize each other, were it not that the
knights were all accustomed to wear certain devices upon some part of
their armor--painted, for instance, upon their shields, or embroidered
on little banners which they bore--by means of which they might be
known. These devices became at length hereditary in the great
families--sons being proud to wear, themselves, the emblems to which the
deeds of their fathers had imparted a trace of glory and renown. The
devices of different chieftains were combined, sometimes, in cases of
intermarriage, or were modified in various ways; and with these minor
changes they would descend from generation to generation as the family
coat of arms. And this was the origin of heraldry.
Now the body of horsemen that were advancing to the charge, as above
described, had each of them his device upon a little flag or banner
attached to their lances. As they were advancing, William scrutinized
them closely, and presently recognized in their leader a man who had
formerly been upon his side. His name was Rollo de Tesson. He was one of
those who had sworn fealty to him at the time when his father Robert
presented him to the council, when setting out upon his pilgrimage.
William accordingly exclaimed, with a loud voice, "Why, these are my
friends!" The officers and the soldiers of the body-guard who were with
him, taking up the cry, shouted "_Friends! friends!_" Rollo de Tesson
and the other knights, who were slowly coming up, preparing to charge
upon William's party, surprised at being thus accosted, paused in their
advance, and finally halted. Rollo said to the other knights, who
gathered around him, "I _was_ his friend. I gave my oath to his father
that I would stand by him and defend him with my life; and now I have
this morning sworn to the Count of Cotentin"--the Count of Cotentin was
the leader of the rebellion--"that I would seek out William on the
battle-field, and be the first to give him a blow. I know not what to
do." "Keep both oaths," replied one of his companions. "Go and strike
him a gentle blow, and then defend him with your life." The whole troop
seconded this proposal by acclamation. Rollo advanced, followed by the
other knights, with gestures and shouts denoting that they were friends.
He rode up to William, told him that he had that morning sworn to strike
him, and then dealt him a pretended blow upon his shoulder; but as both
the shoulder and the hand which struck it were armed with steel, the
clanking sound was all the effect that was produced. Rollo and his
troop--their sworn obligation to the Count of Cotentin being thus
fulfilled--turned now into the ranks of William's soldiery, and fought
valiantly all day upon his side.
Although William was generally victorious in the battles that he fought,
and succeeded in putting down one rebellion after another with
promptness and decision, still, new rebellions and new wars were
constantly breaking out, which kept his dominions in a continual state
of commotion. In fact, the chieftains, the nobles, and the knights,
constituting the only classes of society that exercised any influence,
or were regarded with any respect in those days, were never contented
except when actively employed in military campaigns. The excitements and
the glory of war were the only excitements and glory that they
understood, or had the means of enjoying. Their dwellings were great
fortresses, built on the summits of the rocks, which, however
picturesque and beautiful they appear as _ruins_ now, were very gloomy
and desolate as residences then. They were attractive enough when their
inmates were flying to them for refuge from an enemy, or were employed
within the walls in concentrating their forces and brightening up their
arms for some new expedition for vengeance or plunder, but they were
lonely and lifeless scenes of restlessness and discontent in times of
quietness and peace.
It is difficult for us, at this day, to conceive how destitute of all
the ordinary means of comfort and enjoyment, in comparison with a modern
dwelling, the ancient feudal castles must have been. They were placed in
situations as nearly inaccessible as possible, and the natural
impediments of approach were increased by walls, and gates, and ditches,
and draw-bridges. The door of access was often a window in the wall, ten
or fifteen feet from the ground, to which the inmates or their friends
mounted by a ladder. The floors were of stone, the walls were naked, the
ceiling was a rudely-constructed series of arches. The apartments, too,
were ordinarily small, and were arranged one above another, in the
successive stories of a tower. Nor could these cell-like chambers be
enlivened by the wide and cheerful windows of modern times, which not
only admit the light to animate the scene within, but also afford to the
spectator there, wide-spread, and sometimes enchanting views of the
surrounding country. The castle windows of ancient days were, on the
contrary, narrow loop-holes, each at the bottom of a deep recess in the
thick wall. If they had been made wide they would have admitted too
easily the arrows and javelins of besiegers, as well as the wind and
rain of wintery storms. There were no books in these desolate dwellings,
no furniture but armor, no pleasures but drinking and carousals.
Nor could these noble and valiant knights and barons occupy themselves
in any useful employment. There was nothing which it was respectable for
them to do but to fight. They looked down with contempt upon all the
industrial pursuits of life. The cultivation of farms, the rearing of
flocks and herds, arts, manufactures, and commerce--every thing of this
sort, by which man can benefit his fellow-man, was entirely beneath
them. In fact, their descendants to the present day, even in England,
entertain the same ideas. Their younger sons can enter the army or the
navy, and spend their lives in killing and destroying, or in awaiting,
in idleness, dissipation, and vice, for orders to kill and destroy,
without dishonor; but to engage in any way in those vast and magnificent
operations of peaceful industry, on which the true greatness and glory
of England depend, would be perpetual and irretrievable disgrace. A
young nobleman can serve, in the most subordinate official capacity, on
board a man-of-war, and take pay for it, without degradation; but to
_build_ a man-of-war itself and take pay for it, would be to compel his
whole class to disown him.
It was in consequence of this state of feeling among the knights and
barons of William's day that peace was always tedious and irksome to
them, and they were never contented except when engaged in battles and
campaigns. It was this feeling, probably, quite as much as any settled
hostility to William's right to reign, that made his barons so eager to
engage in insurrections and rebellions. There was, however, after all,
a real and deep-seated opposition to William's right of succession,
founded in the ideas of the day. They could not well endure that one of
so humble and even ignominious birth, on the mother's side, should be
the heir of so illustrious a line as the great dukes of Normandy.
William's enemies were accustomed to designate him by opprobrious
epithets, derived from the circumstances of his birth. Though he was
patient and enduring, and often very generous in forgiving other
injuries, these insults to the memory of his mother always stung him
very deeply, and awakened the strongest emotions of resentment. One
instance of this was so conspicuous that it is recorded in almost all
the histories of William that have been written.
It was in the midst of one of the wars in which he was involved, that
he was advancing across the country to the attack of a strong castle,
which, in addition to the natural strength of its walls and
fortifications, was defended by a numerous and powerful garrison. So
confident, in fact, were the garrison in their numbers and power, that
when they heard that William was advancing to attack them, they sent out
a detachment to meet him. This detachment, however, were not intending
to give him open battle. Their plan was to lay in ambuscade, and attack
William's troops when they came to the spot, and while they were unaware
of the vicinity of an enemy, and off their guard.
William, however, they found, was not off his guard. He attacked the
ambuscade with so much vigor as to put the whole force immediately to
flight. Of course the fugitives directed their steps toward the castle.
William and his soldiers followed them in headlong pursuit. The end was,
that the detachment from the garrison had scarcely time, after making
good their own entrance, to raise the draw-bridges and secure the
gates, so as to keep their pursuers from entering too. They did,
however, succeed in doing this, and William, establishing his troops
about the castle, opened his lines and commenced a regular siege.
The garrison were very naturally vexed and irritated at the bad success
of their intended stratagem. To have the ambuscade not only fail of its
object, but to have also the men that formed it driven thus
ignominiously in, and so narrowly escaping, also, the danger of letting
in the whole troop of their enemies after them, was a great disgrace. To
retaliate upon William, and to throw back upon him the feelings of
mortification and chagrin which they felt themselves, they mounted the
walls and towers, and shouted out all sorts of reproaches and insults.
Finally, when they found that they could not make mere words
sufficiently stinging, they went and procured skins and hides, and
aprons of leather, and every thing else that they could find that was
connected with the trade of a tanner, and shook them at the troops of
their assailants from the towers and walls, with shouts of merriment and
derision.
William was desperately enraged at these insults. He organized an
assaulting party, and by means of the great exertions which the
exasperation of his men stimulated them to make, he carried some of the
outworks, and took a number of prisoners. These prisoners he cut to
pieces, and then caused their bloody and mangled limbs and members to
be thrown, by great slings, over the castle walls.
At one time during the period which is included within the limits of
this chapter, and in the course of one of those intervals of peace and
quietness within his own dominions which William sometimes enjoyed, the
King of France became involved in a war with one of his own rebellious
subjects, and William went, with an army of Normans, to render him aid.
King Henry was at first highly gratified at this prompt and effectual
succor, but he soon afterward began to feel jealous of the universal
popularity and renown which the young duke began soon to acquire.
William was at that time only about twenty-four years old, but he took
the direction of every thing--moved to and fro with the utmost
celerity--planned the campaigns--directed the sieges, and by his
personal accomplishments and his bravery, he won all hearts, and was the
subject of every body's praises. King Henry found himself supplanted,
in some measure, in the regard and honorable consideration of his
subjects, and he began to feel very envious and jealous of his rival.
Sometimes particular incidents would occur, in which William's feats
of prowess or dexterity would so excite the admiration of the army that
he would be overwhelmed with acclamations and applause. These were
generally exploits of combat on the field, or of escape from pursuers
when outnumbered, in which good fortune had often, perhaps, quite as
much to do in securing the result as strength or courage. But in those
days a soldier's good luck was perhaps as much the subject of applause
as his muscular force or his bravery; and, in fact, it was as deservedly
so; for the strength of arm, and the coolness, or, rather, the ferocity
of courage, which make a good combatant in personal contests on a
battle-field, are qualities of brutes rather than of men. We feel a
species of respect for them in the lion or tiger, but they deserve only
execration when exercised in the wantonness of hatred and revenge by man
against his brother man.
One of the instances of William's extraordinary success was the
following. He was reconnoitering the enemy on one occasion, accompanied
only by four or five knights, who acted as his attendants and
body-guard. The party were at a distance from the camp of the enemy, and
supposed they were not observed. They were observed, however, and
immediately a party of twelve chosen horsemen was formed, and ordered
to ride out and surprise them. This detachment concealed themselves in
an ambuscade, at a place where the reconnoitering party must pass, and
when the proper moment arrived, they burst out suddenly upon them and
summoned them to surrender. Twelve against six seemed to render both
flight and resistance equally vain. William, however, advanced
immediately to the attack of the ambuscaders. He poised his long lance,
and, riding on with it at full speed, he unhorsed and killed the
foremost of them at a blow. Then, just drawing back his weapon to gather
strength for another blow, he killed the second of his enemies in the
same manner. His followers were so much animated at this successful
onset, that they advanced very resolutely to the combat. In the mean
time, the shouts carried the alarm to William's camp, and a strong party
set off to rescue William and his companions. The others then turned to
fly, while William followed them so eagerly and closely, that he and
they who were with him overtook and disabled seven of them, and made
them prisoners. The rest escaped. William and his party then turned and
began to proceed toward their own camp, conveying their prisoners in
their train.
They were met by King Henry himself at the head of a detachment of three
hundred men, who, not knowing how much necessity there might be for
efficient aid, were hastening to the scene of action. The sight of
William coming home victorious, and the tales told by his companions of
the invincible strength and daring which he had displayed in the sudden
danger, awakened a universal enthusiasm, and the plaudits and encomiums
with which the whole camp resounded were doubtless as delicious and
intoxicating to him as they were bitter to the king.
It was by such deeds, and by such personal and mental characteristics as
these, that William, notwithstanding the untoward influences of his
birth, fought his way, during the twenty years of which we have been
speaking, into general favor, and established a universal renown. He
completely organized and arranged the internal affairs of his own
kingdom, and established himself firmly upon the ducal throne. His mind
had become mature, his resources were well developed, and his soul,
always ambitious and aspiring, began to reach forward to the grasping of
some grander objects of pursuit, and to the entering upon some wider
field of action than his duchy of Normandy could afford. During this
interval, however, he was married; and, as the circumstances of his
marriage were somewhat extraordinary, we must make that event the
subject of a separate chapter.