CROSSING THE CHANNEL.
A.D. 1066
The River Dive.--Final assembling of the fleet.--Map.--Brilliant and
magnificent scene.--Equinoctial gales.--The expedition detained
by them.--Injurious effects of the storm.--Discouragement of the
men.--Fears and forebodings.--Some of the vessels wrecked.--Favorable
change.--The fleet puts to sea.--Various delays.--Its effects.--Harold's
want of information.--He withdraws his troops.--Harold's vigilance.--He
sends spies into Normandy.--Harold's spies.--They are detected.--William
dismisses the spies.--His confidence in his cause.--Fears of William's
officers.--He reassures them.--Arrival of Matilda with the Mira.--A
present to William.--The squadron puts to sea again.--Its
appearance.--Fleetness of the Mira.--Leaves the fleet out of
sight.--William's unconcern.--Reappearance of the fleet.--The fleet
enters the Bay of Pevensey.--Disembarkation.--Landing of the
troops.--Anecdote.--The encampment.--Scouts sent out.--William's
supper.--The missing ships.--The Conqueror's Stone.--March of the
army.--Flight of the inhabitants.--The army encamps.--The town of
Hastings.--William's fortifications.--Approach of Harold.
The place for the final assembling of the fleet which was to convey the
expedition across the Channel was the mouth of a small river called the
Dive, which will be seen upon the following map, flowing from the
neighborhood of the castle of Falaise northward into the sea. The grand
gathering took place in the beginning of the month of September, in the
year 1066. This date, which marks the era of the Norman Conquest, is one
of the dates which students of history fix indelibly in the memory.
[Illustration: NORMANDY.]
The gathering of the fleet in the estuary of the Dive, and the
assembling of the troops on the beach along its shores, formed a very
grand and imposing spectacle. The fleets of galleys, ships, boats, and
barges covering the surface of the water--the long lines of tents under
the cliffs on the land--the horsemen, splendidly mounted, and glittering
with steel--the groups of soldiers, all busily engaged in transporting
provisions and stores to and fro, or making the preliminary arrangements
for the embarkation--the thousands of spectators who came and went
incessantly, and the duke himself, gorgeously dressed, and mounted on
his war-horse, with the guards and officers that attended him--these,
and the various other elements of martial parade and display usually
witnessed on such occasions, conspired to produce a very gay and
brilliant, as well as magnificent scene.
Of course, the assembling of so large a force of men and of vessels, and
the various preparations for the embarkation, consumed some time, and
when at length all was ready--which was early in September--the
equinoctial gales came on, and it was found impossible to leave the
port. There was, in fact, a continuance of heavy winds and seas, and
stormy skies, for several weeks. Short intervals, from time to time,
occurred, when the clouds would break away, and the sun appear; but
these intervals did not liberate the fleet from its confinement, for
they were not long enough in duration to allow the sea to go down. The
surf continued to come rolling and thundering in upon the shore, and
over the sand-bars at the mouth of the river, making destruction the
almost inevitable destiny of any ship which should undertake to brave
its fury. The state of the skies gradually robbed the scene of the gay
and brilliant colors which first it wore. The vessels furled their
sails, and drew in their banners, and rode at anchor, presenting their
heads doggedly to the storm. The men on the shore sought shelter in
their tents. The spectators retired to their homes, while the duke and
his officers watched the scudding clouds in the sky, day after day, with
great and increasing anxiety.
In fact, William had very serious cause for apprehension in respect to
the effect which this long-continued storm was to have on the success
of his enterprise. The delay was a very serious consideration in itself,
for the winter would soon be drawing near. In one month more it would
seem to be out of the question for such a vast armament to cross the
Channel at all. Then, when men are embarking in such dark and hazardous
undertakings as that in which William was now engaged, their spirits and
their energy rise and sink in great fluctuations, under the influence of
very slight and inadequate causes; and nothing has greater influence
over them at such times than the aspect of the skies. William found that
the ardor and enthusiasm of his army were fast disappearing under the
effects of chilling winds and driving rain. The feelings of discontent
and depression which the frowning expression of the heavens awakened in
their minds, were deepened and spread by the influence of sympathy. The
men had nothing to do, during the long and dreary hours of the day, but
to anticipate hardships and dangers, and to entertain one another, as
they watched the clouds driving along the cliffs, and the rolling of the
surges in the offing, with anticipations of shipwrecks, battles, and
defeats, and all the other gloomy forebodings which haunt the
imagination of a discouraged and discontented soldier.
Nor were these ideas of wrecks and destruction wholly imaginary.
Although the body of the fleet remained in the river, where it was
sheltered from the winds, yet there were many cases of single ships that
were from time to time exposed to them. These were detached vessels
coming in late to the rendezvous, or small squadrons sent out to some
neighboring port under some necessity connected with the preparations,
or strong galleys, whose commanders, more bold than the rest, were
willing, in cases _not_ of absolute necessity, to brave the danger. Many
of these vessels were wrecked. The fragments of them, with the bodies of
the drowned mariners, were driven to the shore. The ghastly spectacles
presented by these dead bodies, swollen and mangled, and half buried in
the sand, as if the sea had been endeavoring to hide the mischief it had
done, shocked and terrified the spectators who saw them. William gave
orders to have all these bodies gathered up and interred secretly, as
fast as they were found; still, exaggerated rumors of the number and
magnitude of these disasters were circulated in the camp, and the
discontent and apprehensions grew every day more and more alarming.
William resolved that he must put to sea at the very first possible
opportunity. The favorable occasion was not long wanting. The wind
changed. The storm appeared to cease. A breeze sprang up from the south,
which headed back the surges from the French shore. William gave orders
to embark. The tents were struck. The baggage of the soldiers was sent
on board the transport vessels. The men themselves, crowded into great
flat-bottomed boats, passed in masses to the ships from the shore. The
spectators reappeared, and covered the cliffs and promontories near, to
witness the final scene. The sails were hoisted, and the vast armament
moved out upon the sea.
The appearance of a favorable change in the weather proved fallacious
after all, for the clouds and storm returned, and after being driven, in
apprehension and danger, about a hundred miles to the northeast along
the coast, the fleet was compelled to seek refuge again in a harbor. The
port which received them was St. Valery, near Dieppe. The duke was
greatly disappointed at being obliged thus again to take the land.
Still, the attempt to advance had not been a labor wholly lost; for as
the French coast here trends to the northward, they had been gradually
narrowing the channel as they proceeded, and were, in fact, so far on
the way toward the English shores. Then there were, besides, some
reasons for touching here, before the final departure, to receive some
last re-enforcements and supplies. William had also one more opportunity
of communicating with his capital and with Matilda.
These delays, disastrous as they seemed to be, and ominous of evil, were
nevertheless attended with one good effect, of which, however, William
at the time was not aware. They led Harold, in England, to imagine that
the enterprise was abandoned, and so put him off his guard. There were
in those days, as has already been remarked, no regular and public modes
of intercommunication, by which intelligence of important movements and
events was spread every where, as now, with promptness and certainty.
Governments were obliged, accordingly, to rely for information, in
respect to what their enemies were doing, on rumors, or on the reports
of spies. Rumors had gone to England in August that William was
meditating an invasion, and Harold had made some extensive preparations
to meet and oppose him; but, finding that he did not come--that week
after week of September passed away, and no signs of an enemy appeared,
and gaining no certain information of the causes of the delay, he
concluded that the enterprise was abandoned, or else, perhaps, postponed
to the ensuing spring. Accordingly, as the winter was coming on, he
deemed it best to commence his preparations for sending his troops to
their winter quarters. He disbanded some of them, and sent others away,
distributing them in various castles and fortified towns, where they
would be sheltered from the rigors of the season, and saved from the
exposure and hardships of the camp, and yet, at the same time, remain
within reach of a summons in case of any sudden emergency which might
call for them. They were soon summoned, though not, in the first
instance, to meet Harold, as will presently appear.
While adopting these measures, however, which he thought the comfort and
safety of his army required, Harold did not relax his vigilance in
watching, as well as he could, the designs and movements of his enemy.
He kept his secret agents on the southern coast, ordering them to
observe closely every thing that transpired, and to gather and send to
him every item of intelligence which should find its way by any means
across the Channel. Of course, William would do all in his power to
intercept and cut off all communication, and he was, at this time, very
much aided in these efforts by the prevalence of the storms, which made
it almost impossible for the fishing and trading vessels of the coast to
venture out to sea, or attempt to cross the Channel. The agents of
Harold, therefore, on the southern coast of England, found that they
could obtain but very little information.
At length the king, unwilling to remain any longer so entirely in the
dark, resolved on sending some messengers across the sea into Normandy
itself, to learn positively what the true state of the case might be.
Messengers going thus secretly into the enemy's territory, or into the
enemy's camp, become, by so doing, in martial law, _spies_, and incur,
if they are taken, the penalty of death. The undertaking, therefore, is
extremely hazardous; and as the death which is inflicted in cases of
detection is an ignominious one--spies being hung, not shot--most men
are very averse to encountering the danger. Still, desperate characters
are always to be found in camps and armies, who are ready to undertake
it on being promised very extraordinary pay.
Harold's spies contrived to make their way across the Channel, probably
at some point far to the east of Normandy, where the passage is narrow.
They then came along the shore, disguised as peasants of the country,
and they arrived at St. Valery while William's fleets were there. Here
they began to make their observations, scrutinizing every thing with
close attention and care, and yet studiously endeavoring to conceal
their interest in what they saw. Notwithstanding all their vigilance,
however, they were discovered, proved to be spies, and taken before
William to receive their sentence.
Instead of condemning them to death, which they undoubtedly supposed
would be their inevitable fate, William ordered them to be set at
liberty. "Go back," said he, "to King Harold, and tell him he might have
saved himself the expense of sending spies into Normandy to learn what I
am preparing for him. He will soon know by other means--much sooner, in
fact, than he imagines. Go and tell him from me that he may put himself,
if he pleases, in the safest place he can find in all his dominions,
and if he does not find my hand upon him before the year is out, he
never need fear me again as long as he lives."
Nor was this expression of confidence in the success of the measures
which he was taking a mere empty boast. William knew the power of
Harold, and he knew his own. The enterprise in which he had embarked was
not a rash adventure. It was a cool, deliberate, well-considered plan.
It appeared doubtful and dangerous in the eyes of mankind, for to mere
superficial observers it seemed simply an aggressive war waged by a duke
of Normandy, the ruler of a comparatively small and insignificant
province, against a king of England, the monarch of one of the greatest
and most powerful realms in the world. William, on the other hand,
regarded it as an effort on the part of the rightful heir to a throne to
dispossess a usurper. He felt confident of having the sympathy and
co-operation of a great part of the community, even in England, the
moment he could show them that he was able to maintain his rights; and
that he could show them that, by a very decisive demonstration, was
evident, visibly, before him, in the vast fleet which was riding at
anchor in the harbor, and in the long lines of tents, filled with
soldiery, which covered the land.
On one occasion, when some of his officers were expressing apprehensions
of Harold's power, and their fears in respect to their being able
successfully to cope with it, William replied, that the more formidable
Harold's power should prove to be, the better he should be pleased, as
the glory would be all the greater for them in having overcome it. "I
have no objection," said he, "that you should entertain exalted ideas of
his strength, though I wonder a little that you do not better appreciate
our own. I need be under no concern lest he, at such a distance, should
learn too much, by his spies, about the force which I am bringing
against him, when you, who are so near me, seem to know so little about
it. But do not give yourselves any concern. Trust to the justice of your
cause and to my foresight. Perform your parts like men, and you will
find that the result which I feel sure of, and you hope for, will
certainly be attained."
The storm at length entirely cleared away, and the army and the fleet
commenced their preparations for the final departure. In the midst of
this closing scene, the attention of all the vast crowds assembled on
board the ships and on the shores was one morning attracted by a
beautiful ship which came sailing into the harbor. It proved to be a
large and splendid vessel which the Duchess Matilda had built, at her
own expense, and was now bringing in, to offer to her husband as
her parting gift. She was herself on board, with her officers and
attendants, having come to witness her husband's departure, and to bid
him farewell. Her arrival, of course, under such circumstances, produced
universal excitement and enthusiasm. The ships in harbor and the shores
resounded with acclamations as the new arrival came gallantly in.
Matilda's vessel was finely built and splendidly decorated. The sails
were of different colors, which gave it a very gay appearance. Upon them
were painted, in various places, the three lions, which was the device
of the Norman ensign. At the bows of the ship was an effigy, or
figure-head, representing William and Matilda's second son shooting with
a bow. This was the accomplishment which, of all others, his father took
most interest in seeing his little son acquire. The arrow was drawn
nearly to its head, indicating great strength in the little arms which
were guiding it, and it was just ready to fly. The name of this vessel
was the Mira. William made it his flag ship. He hoisted upon its mast
head the consecrated banner which had been sent to him from Rome, and
went on board accompanied by his officers and guards, and with great
ceremony and parade.
At length the squadron was ready to put to sea. At a given signal the
sails were hoisted, and the whole fleet began to move slowly out of the
harbor. There were four hundred ships of large size, if we may believe
the chronicles of the times, and more than a thousand transports. The
decks of all these vessels were covered with men; banners were streaming
from every mast and spar; and every salient point of the shore was
crowded with spectators. The sea was calm, the air serene, and the
mighty cloud of canvas which whitened the surface of the water moved
slowly on over the gentle swell of the waves, forming a spectacle which,
as a picture merely for the eye, was magnificent and grand, and, when
regarded in connection with the vast results to the human race which
were to flow from the success of the enterprise, must have been
considered sublime.
The splendidly decorated ship which Matilda had presented to her husband
proved itself, on trial, to be something more than a mere toy. It led
the van at the commencement, of course; and as all eyes watched its
progress, it soon became evident that it was slowly gaining upon the
rest of the squadron, so as continually to increase its distance from
those that were following it. William, pleased with the success of its
performance, ordered the sailing master to keep on, without regard to
those who were behind; and thus it happened that, when night came on,
the fleet was at very considerable distance in rear of the flag ship. Of
course, under these circumstances, the fleet disappeared from sight when
the sun went down, but all expected that it would come into view again
in the morning. When the morning came, however, to the surprise and
disappointment of every one on board the flag ship, no signs of the
fleet were to be seen. The seamen, and the officers on the deck, gazed
long and intently into the southern horizon as the increasing light of
the morning brought it gradually into view, but there was not a speck to
break its smooth and even line.
They felt anxious and uneasy, but William seemed to experience no
concern. He ordered the sails to be furled, and then sent a man to the
mast head to look out there. Nothing was to be seen. William, still
apparently unconcerned, ordered breakfast to be prepared in a very
sumptuous manner, loading the tables with wine and other delicacies,
that the minds of all on board might be cheered by the exhilarating
influence of a feast. At length the lookout was sent to the mast head
again. "What do you see now?" said William. "I see," said the man,
gazing very intently all the while toward the south, "four _very small
specks_ just in the horizon." The intense interest which this
announcement awakened on the deck was soon at the same time _heightened_
and _relieved_ by the cry, "I can see more and more--they are the
ships--yes, the whole squadron is coming into view."
The advancing fleet soon came up with the Mira, when the latter spread
her sails again, and all moved slowly on together toward the coast of
England.
The ships had directed their course so much to the eastward, that when
they made the land they were not very far from the Straits of Dover. As
they drew near to the English shore, they watched very narrowly for the
appearance of Harold's cruisers, which they naturally expected would
have been stationed at various points, to guard the coast; but none were
to be seen. There had been such cruisers, and there still were such off
the other harbors; but it happened, very fortunately for William, that
those which had been stationed to guard this part of the island had been
withdrawn a few days before, on account of their provisions being
exhausted. Thus, when William's fleet arrived, there was no enemy to
oppose their landing. There was a large and open bay, called the Bay of
Pevensey, which lay smiling before them, extending its arms as if
inviting them in. The fleet advanced to within the proper distance from
the land, and there the seamen cast their anchors, and all began to
prepare for the work of disembarkation.
A strong body of soldiery is of course landed first on such occasions.
In this instance the archers, William's favorite corps, were selected to
take the lead. William accompanied them. In his eagerness to get to the
shore, as he leaped from the boat, his foot slipped, and he fell. The
officers and men around him would have considered this an evil omen; but
he had presence of mind enough to extend his arms and grasp the ground,
pretending that his prostration was designed, and saying at the same
time, "Thus I seize this land; from this moment it is mine." As he
arose, one of his officers ran to a neighboring hut which stood near by
upon the shore, and breaking off a little of the thatch, carried it to
William, and, putting it into his hand, said that he thus gave him
_seizin_ of his new possessions. This was a customary form, in those
times, of putting a new owner into possession of lands which he had
purchased or acquired in any other way. The new proprietor would repair
to the ground, where the party whose province it was to deliver the
property would detach something from it, such as a piece of turf from a
bank, or a little of the thatch from a cottage, and offering it to him,
would say, "Thus I deliver thee _seizin_," that is, _possession_, "of
this land." This ceremony was necessary to complete the conveyance of
the estate.
The soldiers, as soon as they were landed, began immediately to form an
encampment, and to make such military arrangements as were necessary to
guard against an attack, or the sudden appearance of an enemy. While
this was going on, the boats continued to pass to and fro,
accomplishing, as fast as possible, the work of disembarkation. In
addition to those regularly attached to the army, there was a vast
company of workmen of all kinds, engineers, pioneers, carpenters,
masons, and laborers, to be landed; and there were three towers, or
rather forts, built of timber, which had been framed and fashioned in
Normandy, ready to be put up on arriving: these had now to be landed,
piece by piece, on the strand. These forts were to be erected as soon as
the army should have chosen a position for a permanent encampment, and
were intended as a means of protection for the provisions and stores.
The circumstance shows that the plan of transporting buildings ready
made, across the seas, has not been invented anew by our emigrants to
California.
While these operations were going on, William dispatched small squadrons
of horse as reconnoitering parties, to explore the country around, to
see if there were any indications that Harold was near. These parties
returned, one after another, after having gone some miles into the
country in all directions, and reported that there were no signs of an
enemy to be seen. Things were now getting settled, too, in the camp,
and William gave directions that the army should kindle their camp fires
for the night, and prepare and eat their suppers. His own supper, or
dinner, as perhaps it might be called, was also served, which he
partook, with his officers, in his own tent. His mind was in a state of
great contentment and satisfaction at the successful accomplishment of
the landing, and at finding himself thus safely established, at the head
of a vast force, within the realm of England.
Every circumstance of the transit had been favorable excepting one, and
that was, that two of the ships belonging to the fleet were missing.
William inquired at supper if any tidings of them had been received.
They told him, in reply, that the missing vessels had been heard from;
they had, in some way or other, been run upon the rocks and lost. There
was a certain astrologer, who had made a great parade, before the
expedition left Normandy, of predicting its result. He had found, by
consulting the stars, that William would be successful, and would meet
with no opposition from Harold. This astrologer had been on board one of
the missing ships, and was drowned. William remarked, on receiving this
information, "What an idiot a man must be, to think that he can predict,
by means of the stars, the future fate of others, when it is so plain
that he can not foresee his own!"
It is said that William's dinner on this occasion was served on a large
stone instead of a table. The stone still remains on the spot, and is
called "the Conqueror's Stone" to this day.
The next day after the landing, the army was put in motion, and advanced
along the coast toward the eastward. There was no armed enemy to contend
against them there or to oppose their march; the people of the country,
through which the army moved, far from attempting to resist them, were
filled with terror and dismay. This terror was heightened, in fact, by
some excesses of which some parties of the soldiers were guilty. The
inhabitants of the hamlets and villages, overwhelmed with consternation
at the sudden descent upon their shores of such a vast horde of wild and
desperate foreigners, fled in all directions. Some made their escape
into the interior; others, taking with them the helpless members of
their households, and such valuables as they could carry, sought refuge
in monasteries and churches, supposing that such sanctuaries as those,
not even soldiers, unless they were pagans, would dare to violate.
Others, still, attempted to conceal themselves in thickets and fens till
the vast throng which was sweeping onward like a tornado should have
passed. Though William afterward always evinced a decided disposition to
protect the peaceful inhabitants of the country from all aggressions on
the part of his troops, he had no time to attend to that subject now. He
was intent on pressing forward to a place of safety.
William reached at length a position which seemed to him suitable for a
permanent encampment. It was an elevated land, near the sea. To the
westward of it was a valley formed by a sort of recess opened in the
range of chalky cliffs which here form the shore of England. In the
bottom of this valley, down upon the beach, was a small town, then of no
great consequence or power, but whose name, which was Hastings, has
since been immortalized by the battle which was fought in its vicinity a
few days after William's arrival. The position which William selected
for his encampment was on high land in the vicinity of the town. The
lines of the encampment were marked out, and the forts or castles which
had been brought from Normandy were set up within the inclosures. Vast
multitudes of laborers were soon at work, throwing up embankments, and
building redoubts and bastions, while others were transporting the arms,
the provisions, and the munitions of war, and storing them in security
within the lines. The encampment was soon completed, and the long line
of tents were set up in streets and squares within it. By the time,
however, that the work was done, some of William's agents and spies came
into camp from the north, saying that in four days Harold would be upon
him at the head of a hundred thousand men.