Part 9

The night before a battle must be a season of peculiar solemnity and suspense. The shades of night, giving indistinctness to the landscape, harmonize too well with the doubts which becloud the mind as to the morrow’s destiny. He is a fool, not a hero, who would step from time into eternity without solemn thought.

The accounts which we have of the way in which the hosts spent the night before the battle are all to the disadvantage of the English. Had they been the winning instead of the losing party, the chroniclers would doubtless have been less severe. As it is, they tell us that the troops of Harold spent the night in eating and drinking and merriment--never lying down in their beds. If this be true, how we are we to account for the vigour with which they fought from nine o’clock in the morning until nightfall next day? The Normans and French, on the other hand, we are told, betook themselves to their orisons. “They made confession of their sins, accused themselves to the priests, and vowed that they would never more eat flesh on the Saturday” (the day of the battle). Many of them kept the vow!

At the dawn of day each party had completed its preparations. Before the sun should set, a battle was to be fought on which hung not merely the fate of an empire, but, as events have subsequently proved, the destinies of the civilized world to this hour.

THE BATTLE.

“Revolving in his altered soul The various turns of fate below.”

_Dryden._

The room is still pointed out in the roofless donjon keep of Falaise, in which Arlotte, the tanner’s daughter, gave birth to William the Conqueror. It is a small comfortless apartment. When the newborn babe was laid upon the floor, he grasped the straw which covered it with a vigour that induced the bystanders to predict that he would ere long take a foremost place amongst the ambitious potentates of his age. In the course of our worsted narrative we have followed our hero to a point in which he is about to justify the correctness of these surmisings.

Harold, painfully conscious of the inferiority of his military equipments, resolved to act on the defensive. He took up his position on a round-topped hill, having on its summit a circular platform just sufficient to contain his troops drawn up in close order. This hill was anciently called Senlac; it afterwards became the site of the Abbey of Battle. Harold further strengthened his position by earthen ramparts crowned with palisades of wood. Wace, speaking of these precautions, says, “They had built up a fence before them with their shields, and with ash and other wood; and had well joined and wattled in their whole work, so as not to leave even a crevice; and thus they had a barricade in their front, through which any Norman who would attack them must first pass. Being covered in this way by their shields and barricades, their aim was to defend themselves; and if they had remained steady for that purpose, they would not have been conquered that day; for every Norman who made his way in lost his life in dishonour, either by hatchet or bill, by club or other weapon.” In addition to these defences, Wace tells us that Harold “made a fosse, which went across the field, guarding one side of their army.” This was probably lower down the hill than the position occupied by his camp, and was chiefly intended to incommode the cavalry.

Harold further feeling that he had not the power to prevent the enemy’s horse outflanking him, ordered “that all should be ranged with their faces towards the enemy”--that they should front three sides at least of the square. We see them (_Plate XIV._) sustaining an attack from opposite quarters, and in both cases fronting the foe. He moreover issued directions “that no one should move from where he was; so that whoever came might find them ready; and that whatever any one, be he Norman or other, should do, each should do his best to defend his own place.” He planted his standard--the dragon of Wessex--on the most elevated part of the hill, and there he resolved to defend it to the last. Nobly Harold fulfilled his purpose--nothing could tempt him from his post--and ere the Saxon ensign bowed to the banner blessed by the Pope, his blood had drenched the soil.

Harold’s men consisted but in part of regularly trained troops. Amongst them were many “villains called together from the villages, bearing such arms as they found--clubs and great picks, iron forks and stakes.” These undisciplined Saxons exhibited no lack of that indomitable energy for which the English race is famous; but, as Harold’s brother, Gurth, remarked, “a great gathering of vilanaille is worth little in battle.”

The numbers of the two armies have been variously stated. Probably Wace is right in saying that they were nearly equal. He sets down the army of William at sixty thousand, and speaks thus of his opponent’s: “Many and many have said that Harold had but a small force, and that he fell on that account. But many others say, and so do I, that he and the Duke had man for man. The men of the Duke were not more numerous, but he had certainly more barons, and the men were better. He had plenty of good knights, and great plenty of good archers.”

The Norman forces, having finished their devotions by an early hour in the morning, were ordered to form in three divisions, the Duke himself commanding the centre, which consisted of Normans. William then addressed his army, saying, “If I conquer, you will conquer; if I win lands, you shall have lands”--telling them, at the same time, that he came not merely to establish his own claims, but also to punish the English for the massacre of the Danes, and other felonies which they had committed against his people. Then they began to cry out, “You will not see one coward; none here will fear to die for love of you if need be.” And he answered them, “Strike hard at the beginning; stay not to take spoil; all the booty shall be in common, and there will be plenty for every one. There will be no safety in peace or flight. The English will neither love nor spare Normans. Felons they were, and are; false they were, and false they will be.”

William was continuing his speech, when Fitz-Osborne, who had been one of his principal advisers in the whole business, interrupted him: “Sire, said he, we tarry here too long; let us arm ourselves. _Allons! Allons!_”

When William began to prepare for battle, he called first for his good hauberk, and a man brought it on his arm and placed it before him; but, in putting his head in to get it on, he inadvertently turned it the wrong way, with the back in front. He quickly changed it; but when he saw that those who stood by him were sorely alarmed, he said, “I never believed in omens, and I never will. I trust in God. The hauberk which was turned wrong and then set right, signifies that I who have hitherto been but duke, shall be changed into a king. Then he crossed himself, and straightway took his hauberk, stooped his head, and put it on aright; and laced his helmet and girt his sword, which a varlet brought him.”

There is something poetical in the error which William made. He was too good a general to be boastful--he had been too often in the field not to know the difference between the putting on and the putting off of the armour--he knew too well, moreover, the serious nature of the venture which he had made to pay much attention to the duties of his military toilet. His capacious mind

was weighing the chances of victory or defeat, and for the last time reviewing all the arrangements which he had made for either alternative. The Norman Duke, notwithstanding his usual exemption from superstitious influences, did not consider his preparation for battle complete until he had strung around his neck a portion of the relics over which Harold had taken his faithless vow. William entrusted the standard which the Pope had given him to Turstin Fitz-Rou. His demeanour, rendered even more than usually commanding by the greatness of the occasion, seems to have attracted the attention of his companions in arms;--“Never (said the Viscount of Toarz), never have I seen a man so fairly armed, nor one who rode so gallantly, or bore his arms or became his hauberk so well; neither any one who bore his lance so gracefully, or sat his horse or manœuvred so nobly. There is no such knight under heaven! a fair knight he is, and a fair king he will be!”

We are now prepared for examining the Tapestry. Under the compartment inscribed HIC MILITES EXIERUNT DE HESTENGA--Here the soldiers have departed from Hastings--we see the Duke, armed cap-a-pie, preparing to mount his charger, which is brought him by an attendant. Next we have a well arranged group of horsemen, representing the whole Norman army, proceeding onward at a steady pace. Some scouts in advance scour the country, and guard against surprise. The inscription proceeds, ET VENERUNT AD PRELIUM CONTRA HAROLDUM REGEM--And march to battle against Harold the King.

The country between Hastings and Battle is of an undulating nature. The Duke had many defiles of a dangerous nature to pass, in which Harold might have harassed him if he had possessed cavalry, and if he had had troops to spare. As it was, he was allowed to proceed unmolested; nevertheless, both parties sent out scouts to watch each other’s movements. The horseman, Vitalis, seems to have been sent on this errand by William. In the Tapestry he is represented as galloping up to his chieftain with the news which he has gathered respecting the enemy, towards whom his spear is pointed. The group is labelled, HIC WILLELM: DUX INTERROGAT VITAL: SI VIDISSET EXERCITUM HAROLDI--Here Duke William asks Vitalis, whether he had seen Harold’s army.

Harold’s scout is next seen, on foot, endeavouring to obtain a glimpse through the forests of the approaching foe; he then informs his king of their advance. The legend is, ISTE NUNTIAT HAROLDUM REGEM DE EXERCITU WILLELM: DUCIS--This man brings word to Harold the King respecting Duke William’s army. “The line of the Normans’ march from the camp of Hastings to the battle-field, must have lain on the south-western slope of the elevated ridge of land extending from Fairlight to Battle; that is, to the north of the village of Hollington, through what is now Crowhurst Park, to the elevated spot called Hetheland, but now known as Telham Hill.”[94] This hill is about a mile south of the one occupied by Harold. Its ancient name seems to imply that it was covered with heath rather than with wood; this circumstance, together with the fact of its elevated position, would enable

William’s host for the first time clearly to descry their enemy from its summit, and render it a fitting place on which to make the final preparations for the onslaught. This spot, according to local tradition, derived its name of Telham, or Telman Hill, from William’s having told off his men before advancing to the fight.

We can readily conceive what would be the feelings of the two forces, as on the morning of the 14th of October, 1066, they came in sight of each other;--“Some with their colour rising, others turning pale; some making ready their arms, others raising their shields; the brave man raising himself to the fight, the coward trembling at the approaching danger.” Who can stand upon the ground occupied by either party without sympathizing, in part, with their fierce emotions? Happily, such sympathy is vain. Not only have victor and vanquished long ceased to be moved by earth’s concernments, but the descendants of each have long been blended into one race, having common interests, common feelings.

Before commencing the onslaught, William again addressed his troops. He is represented in the Tapestry (_Plate XIII._) beside a tree, representing probably the edge of the forest, with the baton of command in his right hand. The legend here is, HIC WILLELM: DUX ALLOQUITUR SUIS MILITIBUS UT PREPARARENT SE VIRILITER ET SAPIENTER AD PRELIUM CONTRA ANGLORUM EXERCITUM--Here Duke William exhorts his soldiers to prepare manfully and prudently for battle against the army of the English. Wace says that the battlecry of the Normans was _Dex aie!_ (God help!), that of the English, _Ut!_ (out!--begone!)

Harold was not less diligent than his antagonist in making preparations. “He ordered the men of Kent to go where the Normans were likely to make the attack; for they say that the men of Kent are entitled to strike first, and that whenever the king goes to battle, the first blow belongs to them. The right of the men of London is to guard the king’s body, to place themselves around him, and to guard his standard; and they were accordingly placed by the standard to watch and defend it.” “Each man had a hauberk on, with his sword girt, and his shield at his neck. Great hatchets were also slung at their necks, with which they expected to strike heavy blows. They were on foot in close ranks, and carried themselves right boldly. _Olicrosse_ (holy cross) they often cried, and many times repeated _Godamite_ (God Almighty).”[95] “And now behold! that battle was gathered whereof the fame is yet mighty.”

Nearly all the chroniclers tell us that the minstrel-warrior Taillefer was the first to begin the battle, and some of them inform us that as he approached the English lines, he produced a sort of panic amongst them by his juggling tricks. It says not a little for the correctness of the delineations of the Tapestry, and of the authenticity of the _Roman de Rou_, that neither of them refers to these improbable stories, however great the pictorial effect of them might have been. As, however, the verses of Gaimar, describing the

apocryphal exploits of Taillefer, possess considerable interest, it may be well to introduce them here in the garb in which they have been clothed by Mr. Amyot, in the _Archæologia_,[96]

“Foremost in the bands of France, Arm’d with hauberk and with lance, And helmet glittering in the air, As if a warrior-knight he were, Rushed forth the minstrel Taillefer.-- Borne on his courser swift and strong, He gaily bounded o’er the plain, And raised the heart-inspiring song (Loud echoed by the warlike throng) Of Roland and of Charlemagne, Of Oliver, brave peer of old, Untaught to fly, unknown to yield, And many a knight and vassal bold, Whose hallowed blood, in crimson flood, Dyed Roncevalles’ field.

Harold’s host he soon descried, Clustering on the hill’s steep side: Then, turned him back brave Taillefer, And thus to William urged his prayer: ‘Great Sire, it fits not me to tell How long I’ve served you, or how well; Yet if reward my lays may claim, Grant now the boon I dare to name: Minstrel no more, be mine the blow That first shall strike yon perjured foe.’ ‘Thy suit is gained,’ the Duke replied, ‘Our gallant minstrel be our guide.’ ‘Enough,’ he cried, ‘with joy I speed, Foremost to vanquish or to bleed.’

And still of Roland’s deeds he sung, While Norman shouts responsive rung, As high in air his lance he flung, With well directed might; Back came the lance into his hand, Like urchin’s ball, or juggler’s wand, And twice again, at his command, Whirled it’s unerring flight.-- While doubting whether skill or charm Had thus inspired the minstrel’s arm, The Saxons saw the wondrous dart Fixed in their standard-bearer’s heart.

Now thrice aloft his sword he threw, ’Midst sparkling sunbeams dancing, And downward thrice the weapon flew, Like meteor o’er the evening dew, From summer sky swift glancing: And while amazement gasped for breath, Another Saxon groaned in death.

More wonders yet!--on signal made, With mane erect, and eye-balls flashing, The well-taught courser rears his head, His teeth in ravenous fury gnashing; He snorts--he foams--and upward springs-- Plunging he fastens on the foe, And down his writhing victim flings, Crushed by the wily minstrel’s blow. Thus seems it to the hostile band Enchantment all, and fairy land.

Fain would I leave the rest unsung:-- The Saxon ranks, to madness stung, Headlong rushed with frenzied start, Hurling javelin, mace, and dart; No shelter from the iron shower Sought Taillefer in that sad hour; Yet still he beckoned to the field, ‘Frenchmen, come on.--the Saxons yield-- Strike quick--strike home--in Roland’s name-- For William’s glory--Harold’s shame.’ Then pierced with wounds, stretched side by side, The minstrel and his courser died.”

The charge of Taillefer roused the mettle of both parties. “Forthwith arose the noise and cry of war, and on either side the people put themselves in motion.” “Some were striking, others urging onwards; and all were bold, and cast aside fear.”

“Loud and far resounded the bray of the horns and the shocks of the lances; the mighty strokes of clubs, and the quick clashing of swords. One while the Englishmen rushed on, another while they fell back; one while the men from over the sea charged onwards, and again, at other times, retreated. Then came the cunning manœuvres, the rude shocks and strokes of the lance, and blows of the sword, among the sergeants and soldiers, both English and Norman. When the English fall the Normans shout. Each side taunts and defies the other, yet neither knoweth what the other saith; and the Normans say the English bark, because they understand not their speech.” In this way the struggle proceeded for several hours. The Saxons had an arduous part to sustain; for, as shewn in the Tapestry, they were attacked on all sides.

Early in the battle the brothers of Harold, Gurth and Leofwin fell. The fact is indicated by the superscription, HIC CECIDERUNT LEWINE ET GURTH FRATRES HAROLDI REGIS--Here fell Leofwin and Gurth, the brothers of Harold the King. Bravely had they sustained their brother in his efforts to resist the invader, and doubtless they had, in the excess of their zeal, needlessly hazarded their lives. According to Wace, they did not fall until after Harold had been slain. This is one of the points in which the worsted chronicle differs from the _Roman de Rou_. In a battle, where all is confusion--where few can obtain a general view of what passes--and where each is intensely occupied with his own foeman--it is exceedingly difficult for any one to give a just account of the whole scene, or to reconcile the conflicting statements of others. All our historians agree that both the brothers of Harold were slain in the battle of Hastings;--had it been otherwise William would not have been crowned at Westminister that Christmas.

Following, on the Tapestry, the death of Gurth and Leofwin (_Plate XV._) is a scene thus labelled: HIC CECIDERUNT SIMUL ANGLI ET FRANCI IN PRELIO. The scene is here most animated. Saxons and Normans are mingled in a close encounter. Horses and men exhibit the frantic contortions of dying agony. At the further end of the compartment a party of Saxons, posted on a hill, exposed to the enemy on one side, but protected by a forest (represented by a tree) on the other, seem to be making head against their assailants. The Normans had attacked the Saxon encampment with the utmost impetuosity in front and in flank. The Saxons maintained their ground well, but some, through fear or misadventure, were constrained to flee. The victorious Normans, strongly armed and well mounted, pursued the flying footmen. In doing so, they left not only their own army, but that of Harold in

the rear. Soon a swampy valley was to be encountered. The retreating English, climbing the opposite hill, paused, at once to take breath and to examine their position. Finding the Normans struggling with the difficulties of the morass, and conscious of the advantage which their elevated position gave them, they wheeled about, and became the attacking party. Their efforts were crowned with success; the invaders were thrown into a state of confusion nearly inextricable. But it is necessary now to refer to our authorities. The account given in the _Roman de Rou_ of this important part of the events of that eventful day is the following: “In the plain was a fosse, which the Normans now had behind them, _having passed it in the fight without regarding it_. But the English charged, and drove the Normans before them, till they made them fall back upon this fosse, overthrowing into it horses and men. Many were to be seen falling therein, rolling one over the other, with their faces to the earth, and unable to rise. Many of the English also, whom the Normans drew down along with them, died there. At no time during the day’s battle did so many Normans die as perished in that fosse. So said they who saw the dead.” The account given in the _Chronicle of Battle Abbey_ is similar. “There lay between the hostile armies a certain dreadful precipice.... It was of considerable extent, and being overgrown with bushes or brambles, was not very easily seen, and great numbers of men, principally Normans in pursuit of the English, were suffocated in it. For, ignorant of the danger, as they were running in a disorderly manner, they fell into the chasm, and were fearfully dashed to pieces and slain. And this pit, from this deplorable accident, is still called _Malfosse_.” With these statements that of William of Malmesbury agrees--“By frequently making a stand, they slaughtered their pursuers in heaps; for, getting possession of an eminence, they drove down the Normans, when roused with indignation and anxiously striving to gain the higher ground, into the valley beneath, when, easily hurling their javelins and rolling down stones on them as they stood below, they destroyed them to a man.” With these descriptions the delineation of the Tapestry agrees in a remarkable manner. The only point which remains for us is to identify the scene of this skirmish with some locality in the vicinity of Battle. This Mr. Lower enables us to do. “There is no place near Battle which can, with a due regard to the proprieties of language, be called a ‘dreadful precipice’ (_miserabile præceipitium vaste patens_), though, by comparing Malmesbury with the Monk of Battle, I think I have succeeded in identifying the locality of this ‘bad ditch.’[97] From all the probabilities of the case, it would seem that the flight and pursuit must have lain in a north-westerly direction, through that part of the district known as Mountjoy. Assuming this, the eminence alluded to must have been the ridge rising from Mount Street to Caldbeck Hill, and the _Malfosse_ some part of the stream which, flowing at its feet, runs in the direction of Watlington, and becomes a tributary of the Rother. This rivulet occasionally overflows its banks, and the primitive condition of the adjacent levels was doubtless that of a morass, overgrown with flags, reeds, and similar bog vegetables. Thanks, however, to good drainage, this ‘bad ditch’ no longer remains. The name was corrupted, previously to 1279, to Manfosse, and a piece of land called Wincestrecroft, in Manfosse, was ceded to the Abbey of Battle in that year. Now Wincestrecroft is still well known, and lies in the direction specified, west by north of the present town of Battle.”[98]

The English, after having exterminated their pursuers, regained the eminence on which the main body was encamped.