<h2><SPAN name="page34"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>CHAPTER IV.<br/> <span class="GutSmall">THE REIGN OF WILLIAM IN NORMANDY.</span><br/> <span class="GutSmall">A.D. 1052–1063.</span></h2>
<p><span class="smcap">If</span> William came back from England
looking forward to a future crown, the thought might even then
flash across his mind that he was not likely to win that crown
without fighting for it. As yet his business was still to
fight for the duchy of Normandy. But he had now to fight,
not to win his duchy, but only to keep it. For five years
he had to strive both against rebellious subjects and against
invading enemies, among whom King Henry of Paris is again the
foremost. Whatever motives had led the French king to help
William at Val-ès-dunes had now passed away. He had
fallen back on his former state of abiding enmity towards
Normandy and her duke. But this short period definitely
fixed the position of Normandy and her duke in Gaul and in
Europe. At its beginning William is still the Bastard of
Falaise, who may or may not be able to keep himself in the ducal
chair, his right to which is still disputed. At the end of
it, if he is not yet the Conqueror and the Great, he has shown
all the gifts that were needed to win him either name. He
is the greatest vassal of the French crown, a vassal more
powerful than the overlord whose invasions of his duchy he has
had to drive back.</p>
<p>These invasions of Normandy by the King of the French and his
allies fall into two periods. At first Henry appears in
Normandy as the supporter of Normans in open revolt against their
duke. But revolts are personal and local; there is no
rebellion like that which was crushed at Val-ès-dunes,
spreading over a large part of the duchy. In the second
period, the invaders have no such starting-point. There are
still traitors; there are still rebels; but all that they can do
is to join the invaders after they have entered the land.
William is still only making his way to the universal good will
of his duchy: but he is fast making it.</p>
<p>There is, first of all, an obscure tale of a revolt of an
unfixed date, but which must have happened between 1048 and
1053. The rebel, William Busac of the house of Eu, is said
to have defended the castle of Eu against the duke and to have
gone into banishment in France. But the year that followed
William’s visit to England saw the far more memorable
revolt of William Count of Arques. He had drawn the
Duke’s suspicions on him, and he had to receive a ducal
garrison in his great fortress by Dieppe. But the garrison
betrayed the castle to its own master. Open revolt and
havoc followed, in which Count William was supported by the king
and by several other princes. Among them was Ingelram Count
of Ponthieu, husband of the duke’s sister Adelaide.
Another enemy was Guy Count of Gascony, afterwards Duke William
the Eighth of Aquitaine. What quarrel a prince in the
furthest corner of Gaul could have with the Duke of the Normans
does not appear; but neither Count William nor his allies could
withstand the loyal Normans and their prince. Count
Ingelram was killed; the other princes withdrew to devise greater
efforts against Normandy. Count William lost his castle and
part of his estates, and left the duchy of his free will.
The Duke’s politic forbearance at last won him the general
good will of his subjects. We hear of no more open revolts
till that of William’s own son many years after. But
the assaults of foreign enemies, helped sometimes by Norman
traitors, begin again the next year on a greater scale.</p>
<div class="gapspace"> </div>
<p>William the ruler and warrior had now a short
breathing-space. He had doubtless come back from England
more bent than ever on his marriage with Matilda of
Flanders. Notwithstanding the decree of a Pope and a
Council entitled to special respect, the marriage was celebrated,
not very long after William’s return to Normandy, in the
year of the revolt of William of Arques. In the course of
the year 1053 Count Baldwin brought his daughter to the Norman
frontier at Eu, and there she became the bride of William.
We know not what emboldened William to risk so daring a step at
this particular time, or what led Baldwin to consent to it.
If it was suggested by the imprisonment of Pope Leo by
William’s countrymen in Italy, in the hope that a consent
to the marriage would be wrung out of the captive pontiff, that
hope was disappointed. The marriage raised much opposition
in Normandy. It was denounced by Archbishop Malger of
Rouen, the brother of the dispossessed Count of Arques. His
character certainly added no weight to his censures; but the same
act in a saint would have been set down as a sign of holy
boldness. Presently, whether for his faults or for his
merits, Malger was deposed in a synod of the Norman Church, and
William found him a worthier successor in the learned and holy
Maurilius. But a greater man than Malger also opposed the
marriage, and the controversy thus introduces us to one who fills
a place second only to that of William himself in the Norman and
English history of the time.</p>
<p>This was Lanfranc of Pavia, the lawyer, the scholar, the model
monk, the ecclesiastical statesman, who, as prior of the newly
founded abbey of Bec, was already one of the innermost
counsellors of the Duke. As duke and king, as prior, abbot,
and archbishop, William and Lanfranc ruled side by side, each
helping the work of the other till the end of their joint
lives. Once only, at this time, was their friendship broken
for a moment. Lanfranc spoke against the marriage, and
ventured to rebuke the Duke himself. William’s wrath
was kindled; he ordered Lanfranc into banishment and took a baser
revenge by laying waste part of the lands of the abbey. But
the quarrel was soon made up. Lanfranc presently left
Normandy, not as a banished man, but as the envoy of its
sovereign, commissioned to work for the confirmation of the
marriage at the papal court. He worked, and his work was
crowned with success, but not with speedy success. It was
not till six years after the marriage, not till the year 1059,
that Lanfranc obtained the wished for confirmation, not from Leo,
but from his remote successor Nicolas the Second. The sin
of those who had contracted the unlawful union was purged by
various good works, among which the foundation of the two stately
abbeys of Caen was conspicuous.</p>
<p>This story illustrates many points in the character of William
and of his time. His will is not to be thwarted, whether in
a matter of marriage or of any other. But he does not hurry
matters; he waits for a favourable opportunity. Something,
we know not what, must have made the year 1053 more favourable
than the year 1049. We mark also William’s relations
to the Church. He is at no time disposed to submit quietly
to the bidding of the spiritual power, when it interferes with
his rights or even when it crosses his will. Yet he is
really anxious for ecclesiastical reform; he promotes men like
Maurilius and Lanfranc; perhaps he is not displeased when the
exercise of ecclesiastical discipline, in the case of Malger,
frees him from a troublesome censor. But the worse side of
him also comes out. William could forgive rebels, but he
could not bear the personal rebuke even of his friend.
Under this feeling he punishes a whole body of men for the
offence of one. To lay waste the lands of Bec for the
rebuke of Lanfranc was like an ordinary prince of the time; it
was unlike William, if he had not been stirred up by a censure
which touched his wife as well as himself. But above all,
the bargain between William and Lanfranc is characteristic of the
man and the age. Lanfranc goes to Rome to support a
marriage which he had censured in Normandy. But there is no
formal inconsistency, no forsaking of any principle.
Lanfranc holds an uncanonical marriage to be a sin, and he
denounces it. He does not withdraw his judgement as to its
sinfulness. He simply uses his influence with a power that
can forgive the sin to get it forgiven.</p>
<p>While William’s marriage was debated at Rome, he had to
fight hard in Normandy. His warfare and his negotiations
ended about the same time, and the two things may have had their
bearing on one another. William had now to undergo a new
form of trial. The King of the French had never put forth
his full strength when he was simply backing Norman rebels.
William had now, in two successive invasions, to withstand the
whole power of the King, and of as many of his vassals as the
King could bring to his standard. In the first invasion, in
1054, the Norman writers speak rhetorically of warriors from
Burgundy, Auvergne, and Gascony; but it is hard to see any troops
from a greater distance than Bourges. The princes who
followed Henry seem to have been only the nearer vassals of the
Crown. Chief among them are Theobald Count of Chartres, of
a house of old hostile to Normandy, and Guy the new Count of
Ponthieu, to be often heard of again. If not Geoffrey of
Anjou himself, his subjects from Tours were also there.
Normandy was to be invaded on two sides, on both banks of the
Seine. The King and his allies sought to wrest from William
the western part of Normandy, the older and the more thoroughly
French part. No attack seems to have been designed on the
Bessin or the Côtentin. William was to be allowed to
keep those parts of his duchy, against which he had to fight when
the King was his ally at Val-ès-dunes.</p>
<p>The two armies entered Normandy; that which was to act on the
left of the Seine was led by the King, the other by his brother
Odo. Against the King William made ready to act himself;
eastern Normandy was left to its own loyal nobles. But all
Normandy was now loyal; the men of the Saxon and Danish lands
were as ready to fight for their duke against the King as they
had been to fight against King and Duke together. But
William avoided pitched battles; indeed pitched battles are rare
in the continental warfare of the time. War consists
largely in surprises, and still more in the attack and defence of
fortified places. The plan of William’s present
campaign was wholly defensive; provisions and cattle were to be
carried out of the French line of march; the Duke on his side,
the other Norman leaders on the other side, were to watch the
enemy and attack them at any favourable moment. The
commanders east of the Seine, Count Robert of Eu, Hugh of
Gournay, William Crispin, and Walter Giffard, found their
opportunity when the French had entered the unfortified town of
Mortemer and had given themselves up to revelry. Fire and
sword did the work. The whole French army was slain,
scattered, or taken prisoners. Ode escaped; Guy of Ponthieu
was taken. The Duke’s success was still easier.
The tale runs that the news from Mortemer, suddenly announced to
the King’s army in the dead of the night, struck them with
panic, and led to a hasty retreat out of the land.</p>
<p>This campaign is truly Norman; it is wholly unlike the simple
warfare of England. A traitorous Englishman did nothing or
helped the enemy; a patriotic Englishman gave battle to the enemy
the first time he had a chance. But no English commander of
the eleventh century was likely to lay so subtle a plan as this,
and, if he had laid such a plan, he would hardly have found an
English army able to carry it out. Harold, who refused to
lay waste a rood of English ground, would hardly have looked
quietly on while many roods of English ground were wasted by the
enemy. With all the valour of the Normans, what before all
things distinguished them from other nations was their
craft. William could indeed fight a pitched battle when a
pitched battle served his purpose; but he could control himself,
he could control his followers, even to the point of enduring to
look quietly on the havoc of their own land till the right
moment. He who could do this was indeed practising for his
calling as Conqueror. And if the details of the story,
details specially characteristic, are to be believed, William
showed something also of that grim pleasantry which was another
marked feature in the Norman character. The startling
message which struck the French army with panic was deliberately
sent with that end. The messenger sent climbs a tree or a
rock, and, with a voice as from another world, bids the French
awake; they are sleeping too long; let them go and bury their
friends who are lying dead at Mortemer. These touches bring
home to us the character of the man and the people with whom our
forefathers had presently to deal. William was the greatest
of his race, but he was essentially of his race; he was Norman to
the backbone.</p>
<p>Of the French army one division had been surprised and cut to
pieces, the other had left Normandy without striking a
blow. The war was not yet quite over; the French still kept
Tillières; William accordingly fortified the stronghold of
Breteuil as a cheek upon it. And he entrusted the command
to a man who will soon be memorable, his personal friend William,
son of his old guardian Osbern. King Henry was now glad to
conclude a peace on somewhat remarkable terms. William had
the king’s leave to take what he could from Count Geoffrey
of Anjou. He now annexed Cenomannian—that is just now
Angevin—territory at more points than one, but chiefly on
the line of his earlier advances to Domfront and
Ambrières. Ambrières had perhaps been lost;
for William now sent Geoffrey a challenge to come on the fortieth
day. He came on the fortieth day, and found
Ambrières strongly fortified and occupied by a Norman
garrison. With Geoffrey came the Breton prince Ode, and
William or Peter Duke of Aquitaine. They besieged the
castle; but Norman accounts add that they all fled on
William’s approach to relieve it.</p>
<div class="gapspace"> </div>
<p>Three years of peace now followed, but in 1058 King Henry,
this time in partnership with Geoffrey of Anjou, ventured another
invasion of Normandy. He might say that he had never been
fairly beaten in his former campaign, but that he had been simply
cheated out of the land by Norman wiles. This time he had a
second experience of Norman wiles and of Norman strength
too. King and Count entered the land and ravaged far and
wide. William, as before, allowed the enemy to waste the
land. He watched and followed them till he found a
favourable moment for attack. The people in general
zealously helped the Duke’s schemes, but some traitors of
rank were still leagued with the Count of Anjou. While
William bided his time, the invaders burned Caen. This
place, so famous in Norman history, was not one of the ancient
cities of the land. It was now merely growing into
importance, and it was as yet undefended by walls or
castle. But when the ravagers turned eastward, William
found the opportunity that he had waited for. As the French
were crossing the ford of Varaville on the Dive, near the mouth
of that river, he came suddenly on them, and slaughtered a large
part of the army under the eyes of the king who had already
crossed. The remnant marched out of Normandy.</p>
<p>Henry now made peace, and restored Tillières. Not
long after, in 1060, the King died, leaving his young son Philip,
who had been already crowned, as his successor, under the
guardianship of William’s father-in-law Baldwin.
Geoffrey of Anjou and William of Aquitaine also died, and the
Angevin power was weakened by the division of Geoffrey’s
dominions between his nephews. William’s position was
greatly strengthened, now that France, under the new regent, had
become friendly, while Anjou was no longer able to do
mischief. William had now nothing to fear from his
neighbours, and the way was soon opened for his great continental
conquest. But what effect had these events on
William’s views on England? About the time of the
second French invasion of Normandy Earl Harold became beyond
doubt the first man in England, and for the first time a chance
of the royal succession was opened to him. In 1057, the
year before Varaville, the Ætheling Edward, the
King’s selected successor, died soon after his coming to
England; in the same year died the King’s nephew Earl Ralph
and Leofric Earl of the Mercians, the only Englishmen whose
influence could at all compare with that of Harold.
Harold’s succession now became possible; it became even
likely, if Edward should die while Edgar the son of the
Ætheling was still under age. William had no shadow
of excuse for interfering, but he doubtless was watching the
internal affairs of England. Harold was certainly watching
the affairs of Gaul. About this time, most likely in the
year 1058, he made a pilgrimage to Rome, and on his way back he
looked diligently into the state of things among the various
vassals of the French crown. His exact purpose is veiled in
ambiguous language; but we can hardly doubt that his object was
to contract alliances with the continental enemies of
Normandy. Such views looked to the distant future, as
William had as yet been guilty of no unfriendly act towards
England. But it was well to come to an understanding with
King Henry, Count Geoffrey, and Duke William of Aquitaine, in
case a time should come when their interests and those of England
would be the same. But the deaths of all those princes must
have put an end to all hopes of common action between England and
any Gaulish power. The Emperor Henry also, the firm ally of
England, was dead. It was now clear that, if England should
ever have to withstand a Norman attack, she would have to
withstand it wholly by her own strength, or with such help as she
might find among the kindred powers of the North.</p>
<div class="gapspace"> </div>
<p>William’s great continental conquest is drawing nigh;
but between the campaign of Varaville and the campaign of Le Mans
came the tardy papal confirmation of William’s
marriage. The Duke and Duchess, now at last man and wife in
the eye of the Church, began to carry out the works of penance
which were allotted to them. The abbeys of Caen,
William’s Saint Stephen’s, Matilda’s Holy
Trinity, now began to arise. Yet, at this moment of
reparation, one or two facts seem to place William’s
government of his duchy in a less favourable light than
usual. The last French invasion was followed by
confiscations and banishments among the chief men of
Normandy. Roger of Montgomery and his wife Mabel, who
certainly was capable of any deed of blood or treachery, are
charged with acting as false accusers. We see also that, as
late as the day of Varaville, there were Norman traitors.
Robert of Escalfoy had taken the Angevin side, and had defended
his castle against the Duke. He died in a strange way,
after snatching an apple from the hand of his own wife. His
nephew Arnold remained in rebellion three years, and was simply
required to go to the wars in Apulia. It is hard to believe
that the Duke had poisoned the apple, if poisoned it was; but
finding treason still at work among his nobles, he may have too
hastily listened to charges against men who had done him good
service, and who were to do him good service again.</p>
<p>Five years after the combat at Varaville, William really began
to deserve, though not as yet to receive, the name of
Conqueror. For he now did a work second only to the
conquest of England. He won the city of Le Mans and the
whole land of Maine. Between the tale of Maine and the tale
of England there is much of direct likeness. Both lands
were won against the will of their inhabitants; but both
conquests were made with an elaborate show of legal right.
William’s earlier conquests in Maine had been won, not from
any count of Maine, but from Geoffrey of Anjou, who had occupied
the country to the prejudice of two successive counts, Hugh and
Herbert. He had further imprisoned the Bishop of Le Mans,
Gervase of the house of Bellême, though the King of the
French had at his request granted to the Count of Anjou for life
royal rights over the bishopric of Le Mans. The bishops of
Le Mans, who thus, unlike the bishops of Normandy, held their
temporalities of the distant king and not of the local count,
held a very independent position. The citizens of Le Mans
too had large privileges and a high spirit to defend them; the
city was in a marked way the head of the district. Thus it
commonly carried with it the action of the whole country.
In Maine there were three rival powers, the prince, the Church,
and the people. The position of the counts was further
weakened by the claims to their homage made by the princes on
either side of them in Normandy and Anjou; the position of the
Bishop, vassal, till Gervase’s late act, of the King only,
was really a higher one. Geoffrey had been received at Le
Mans with the good will of the citizens, and both Bishop and
Count sought shelter with William. Gervase was removed from
the strife by promotion to the highest place in the French
kingdom, the archbishopric of Rheims. The young Count
Herbert, driven from his county, commended himself to
William. He became his man; he agreed to hold his dominions
of him, and to marry one of his daughters. If he died
childless, his father-in-law was to take the fief into his own
hands. But to unite the old and new dynasties,
Herbert’s youngest sister Margaret was to marry
William’s eldest son Robert. If female descent went
for anything, it is not clear why Herbert passed by the rights of
his two elder sisters, Gersendis, wife of Azo Marquess of
Liguria, and Paula, wife of John of La Flèche on the
borders of Maine and Anjou. And sons both of Gersendis and
of Paula did actually reign at Le Mans, while no child either of
Herbert or of Margaret ever came into being.</p>
<p>If Herbert ever actually got possession of his country, his
possession of it was short. He died in 1063 before either
of the contemplated marriages had been carried out. William
therefore stood towards Maine as he expected to stand with regard
to England. The sovereign of each country had made a formal
settlement of his dominions in his favour. It was to be
seen whether those who were most immediately concerned would
accept that settlement. Was the rule either of Maine or of
England to be handed over in this way, like a mere property,
without the people who were to be ruled speaking their minds on
the matter? What the people of England said to this
question in 1066 we shall hear presently; what the people of
Maine said in 1063 we hear now. We know not why they had
submitted to the Angevin count; they had now no mind to merge
their country in the dominions of the Norman duke. The
Bishop was neutral; but the nobles and the citizens of Le Mans
were of one mind in refusing William’s demand to be
received as count by virtue of the agreement with Herbert.
They chose rulers for themselves. Passing by Gersendis and
Paula and their sons, they sent for Herbert’s aunt Biota
and her husband Walter Count of Mantes. Strangely enough,
Walter, son of Godgifu daughter of Æthelred, was a
possible, though not a likely, candidate for the rule of England
as well as of Maine. The people of Maine are not likely to
have thought of this bit of genealogy. But it was doubtless
present to the minds alike of William and of Harold.</p>
<p>William thus, for the first but not for the last time, claimed
the rule of a people who had no mind to have him as their
ruler. Yet, morally worthless as were his claims over
Maine, in the merely technical way of looking at things, he had
more to say than most princes have who annex the lands of their
neighbours. He had a perfectly good right by the terms of
the agreement with Herbert. And it might be argued by any
who admitted the Norman claim to the homage of Maine, that on the
failure of male heirs the country reverted to the overlord.
Yet female succession was now coming in. Anjou had passed
to the sons of Geoffrey’s sister; it had not fallen back to
the French king. There was thus a twofold answer to
William’s claim, that Herbert could not grant away even the
rights of his sisters, still less the rights of his people.
Still it was characteristic of William that he had a case that
might be plausibly argued. The people of Maine had fallen
back on the old Teutonic right. They had chosen a prince
connected with the old stock, but who was not the next heir
according to any rule of succession. Walter was hardly
worthy of such an exceptional honour; he showed no more energy in
Maine than his brother Ralph had shown in England. The city
was defended by Geoffrey, lord of Mayenne, a valiant man who
fills a large place in the local history. But no valour or
skill could withstand William’s plan of warfare. He
invaded Maine in much the same sort in which he had defended
Normandy. He gave out that he wished to win Maine without
shedding man’s blood. He fought no battles; he did
not attack the city, which he left to be the last spot that
should be devoured. He harried the open country, he
occupied the smaller posts, till the citizens were driven,
against Geoffrey’s will, to surrender. William
entered Le Mans; he was received, we are told, with joy.
When men make the best of a bad bargain, they sometimes persuade
themselves that they are really pleased. William, as ever,
shed no blood; he harmed none of the men who had become his
subjects; but Le Mans was to be bridled; its citizens needed a
castle and a Norman garrison to keep them in their new
allegiance. Walter and Biota surrendered their claims on
Maine and became William’s guests at Falaise.
Meanwhile Geoffrey of Mayenne refused to submit, and withstood
the new Count of Maine in his stronghold. William laid
siege to Mayenne, and took it by the favoured Norman argument of
fire. All Maine was now in the hands of the Conqueror.</p>
<p>William had now made a greater conquest than any Norman duke
had made before him. He had won a county and a noble city,
and he had won them, in the ideas of his own age, with
honour. Are we to believe that he sullied his conquest by
putting his late competitors, his present guests, to death by
poison? They died conveniently for him, and they died in
his own house. Such a death was strange; but strange things
do happen. William gradually came to shrink from no crime
for which he could find a technical defence; but no advocate
could have said anything on behalf of the poisoning of Walter and
Biota. Another member of the house of Maine, Margaret the
betrothed of his son Robert, died about the same time; and her at
least William had every motive to keep alive. One who was
more dangerous than Walter, if he suffered anything, only
suffered banishment. Of Geoffrey of Mayenne we hear no more
till William had again to fight for the possession of Maine.</p>
<div class="gapspace"> </div>
<p>William had thus, in the year 1063, reached the height of his
power and fame as a continental prince. In a conquest on
Gaulish soil he had rehearsed the greater conquest which he was
before long to make beyond sea. Three years, eventful in
England, outwardly uneventful in Normandy, still part us from
William’s second visit to our shores. But in the
course of these three years one event must have happened, which,
without a blow being struck or a treaty being signed, did more
for his hopes than any battle or any treaty. At some
unrecorded time, but at a time which must come within these
years, Harold Earl of the West-Saxons became the guest and the
man of William Duke of the Normans.</p>
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