Danes, Saxons and Normans; or, Stories of our ancestors

XLV.
THE BURIAL AT CAEN

One Thursday the 10th of September, 1087, consternation and dismay pervaded the city of Rouen. Neither Granada after Boabdil's flight, nor Edinburgh after the death of King James at Flodden, presented such a scene of confusion as did the capital of Normandy on that morning when it became known that William the Conqueror had breathed his last. Fear fell upon all men who had anything to lose, and they ran wildly about, beating their breasts, tearing their hair, and imploring advice, as if a hostile army had been before the gates.

Meanwhile, within the convent of St. Gervase and the castle of Rouen were enacted such scenes as, when reflected on, make human beings blush for human nature. No sooner did William breathe his last than his physicians, and the attendants who had watched his couch during the night, hastily left the chamber of death, and mounting their horses, rode away to look after their property; and, when the news reached the castle, the servants carried off plate, armour, clothes, linen, and everything that was not too hot or too heavy, and fled from the place. It is even said that the body of the great warrior-statesman was left on the floor with scarcely a shred of covering, and that it remained in that position for several hours.

It is most discreditable, indeed, to the memory of William's two sons, Rufus and Beauclerc, that such should have been the case. But these young men were wholly intent on their own interests. Rufus was already on his way to England, and Beauclerc was busy receiving the five thousand pounds, seeing the silver carefully weighed, and depositing the treasure in a chest, fastened with bands of iron, and secured with strong locks. Never was there a more thorough display of intense selfishness. Even Curthose, with all his faults, would not have been guilty of such filial impiety.

It almost seemed as if the Conqueror was to be denied Christian burial. But William, Archbishop of Rouen, had the decency to think of the dead king, and ordered a procession to be arranged. Dressed in their habits, monks and priests, with cross, candles, and censers, repaired to the chamber to pray for the soul that had departed, and the archbishop gave orders that the corpse should be conveyed to Caen, and buried in the cathedral which William had built and dedicated to St. Stephen. But nobody showed the least inclination to take an active part in the obsequies.

At length a Norman knight, named Herluin, probably a kinsman of Arlette's husband, William's stepfather, volunteered to take the trouble and bear the expense. Having hired a hearse and men, Herluin removed the body to the banks of the Seine, and, having caused it to be placed in a boat, attended it, by the river and the sea, to Caen. On reaching that place the corpse was met by the Abbot of Caen, with all his monks, and by many other priests and laymen, among whom appeared Henry Beauclerc. But a fire suddenly breaking out in the town dissolved the procession, and the corpse, deserted by all but the monks of St. Stephen, was borne by them to the cathedral.

Between the altar and the choir of the Cathedral of Caen a tomb was prepared; and when the time appointed for the inhumation arrived all the bishops and abbots of Normandy assembled for the ceremony. Mass was then said; and the body, without a coffin, but clothed in royal robes, was about to be lowered, when suddenly a man, advancing from the crowd, stepped forward and interrupted the process.

"Priests and bishops," said he, in a loud voice, "this ground is mine. It was the site of my father's house. The man for whom you have now prayed took it from me by force to build his church upon it."

"It is true," said several voices.

"I have not sold my land," continued the man; "I have not pawned it – I have not forfeited it – I have not given it. Mine the ground is by right, and I demand it."

"Who art thou?" they asked.

"My name," he answered, "is Asselin Fitzarthur, and in God's name I forbid the body of the spoiler to be laid in this place. Here was the floor of my father's house – it was violently wrested from us; and I charge you, as ye shall answer for it before the face of God, not to cover this body with the earth of my inheritance."

"He hath the law of Normandy on his side," muttered those present.

Perceiving how the matter stood, the bishops caused Fitzarthur to approach, and a bargain was hastily struck. The bishops agreed to pay sixty pence for the immediate place of sepulture, and to give equitable recompence for the rest of the ground; and Fitzarthur, contented with their assurance, withdrew his protest. The body was then placed in its narrow receptacle, and, the ceremony having been hastily completed, the grave closed over the remains of William the Conqueror.

The right of Robert Curthose to the coronal of Normandy was not disputed, and when that prince arrived at Rouen he quietly took possession of the dominions of Rollo. But the succession to the crown of England was a question which the Anglo-Norman barons deemed themselves entitled to decide. A council was accordingly held for that purpose; and at this assembly the majority of those present gave it as their opinion that crown and coronal should go together – that the two countries should have one and the same government – and that the crown of England should be placed where the coronal of Normandy already was, on the head of Duke Robert. But, in the midst of their deliberations, the dignity of the assembled barons was rudely shocked. News, in fact, came across the Channel which seemed to indicate that their wishes on the subject of the succession were not thought worthy even of being consulted, and which, by creating bitter animosities, was destined to produce an alarming and not altogether unimportant civil war.

XLVI.
THE RED KING

About the time when news that the Conqueror had commended his soul to the Virgin Mary and expired at the convent of St. Gervase was causing consternation and affright in the city of Rouen, there might have been seen, at the port of Wissant, near Calais, a thickset and rude-mannered man, of twenty-seven or thereabouts, who stammered in Norman French, swore "by the face of St. Luke," and went blustering about in the excess of his eagerness to embark for the shores of England.

The appearance of this person was the reverse of prepossessing. His stature was mean, his figure was ungraceful, his face florid, his forehead shaped like a window, his hair fiery red, and his countenance, which had not a redeeming feature, was deformed by a disagreeable defect in the eyes. It was William Rufus, the Conqueror's second son, on his way to seize the English throne.

On setting foot in England, Rufus hastened to Winchester, presented himself to the treasurer, and gained that officer over to his views. Having obtained the keys of the treasury, he found much silver and gold, and a quantity of jewels. Upon weighing these carefully, and taking an inventory, he succeeded in gaining the support of Lanfranc; and, having prevailed on the Norman barons then in England to recognise him as king, he was crowned by the archbishop in the cathedral of Winchester.

It would seem that at this stage Rufus apprehended some danger from the enmity of the Saxons. At all events, his first act of royal authority was directed against men of the vanquished race. In accordance with the Conqueror's dying command, four captives of high rank had been restored to liberty. These were Roger Fitzosborne, Odo of Bayeux, Wulnoth, brother of Harold, and Morkar, brother of Edwin. Of these, Rufus ordered Wulnoth and Morkar to be seized, and again committed to prison at Winchester.

Events soon occurred to convince the Red King that he had mistaken the quarter whence danger was to come. In fact, the Norman barons, who had assembled at Rouen, were furious at the intelligence of a coronation having taken place without their consent, and, ere long, they reached England, breathing defiance and threatening vengeance. Soon a party was formed with the avowed resolution of pulling Rufus from the throne, and placing the crown of England on Curthose's head.

At the head of this party figured Odo, the fierce and haughty Bishop of Bayeux, now released from prison. Owing Lanfranc an old grudge, and willing to pay the debt with interest, Odo exerted all his influence to destroy the settlement of which the archbishop was author, and proved so successful in his efforts that a formidable conspiracy was formed with that object. Day by day it was strengthened by the names of powerful nobles and influential churchmen. Hugh de Grantmesnil, Robert Mortain, Earl of Cornwall; Robert Montgomery, Earl of Shrewsbury; Robert Moubray, Earl of Northumberland; and William Carilif, Bishop of Durham, were among the many eminent personages who vowed to place Curthose on the Conqueror's throne. With the object of perplexing the movements of Rufus while awaiting the coming of Curthose, they fortified themselves in different parts of the country. Hugh de Grantmesnil fortified himself in Leicester; the Earl of Cornwall posted himself at Pevensey; the Earl of Shrewsbury held Norwich; the Earl of Northumberland seized Bristol; William Carilif occupied the castle of Durham; and Odo himself took possession of the castle of Rochester. The banners of the insurgents waved from hundreds of other strongholds; and they only awaited the arrival of Curthose to strike a decisive blow.

The position of Rufus appeared somewhat perilous. Left to his own resources he must have fallen from the throne he so unworthily occupied. But the circumstance of having a minister of such wisdom and experience as Lanfranc at his side considerably altered the case; and, acting under the auspices of the archbishop, Rufus took the only step likely to save him from impending ruin.

In passing through England, as it then was, foreigners were surprised, after passing the Norman fortresses, which on every height frowned with heavy, massive, and gloomy turrets, to come, ever and anon, on two-storied houses, quite unfortified, and standing in the midst of parks, through which, watched by the herdsmen, herds and flocks grazed in security. These were the seats of such Saxons of consideration as had escaped the Norman sword; not mighty chiefs, like Edwin or Cospatrick, but thanes who, perhaps, had been too proud to march under the banner of the son of Godwin; men who had not, for years, wandered out from the shadow of their paternal oaks; whom isolation had rendered eccentric, and whom oppression had rendered irascible.

In the hour of need, Rufus was reminded of these Saxon thanes, who had long been exclaiming over their cups against Norman tyranny, summoned them to his court, asked their counsels, and promised, in the event of their rendering aid, to restore to them the right of carrying arms, and the privileges of the chase. The simple Saxons fell into the snare, gave credit to his frank assurances, and issued to the natives a proclamation couched in the words to which the Saxons had been long accustomed.

"Let every man," such were the words – "let every man that is not a nothing, whether in the town or country, leave his house and come."

The appeal was not made in vain. At the time and place appointed thirty thousand Saxons rallied round the Red King's banner.

It was at the head of this body of men, who were mostly on foot, that William, with some Norman cavalry, marched towards Rochester, where Odo of Bayeux was strongly posted. The Saxons, to whom Odo was peculiarly odious, displayed great eagerness for the strife, vowed vengeance against the oppressors, and beleaguered Rochester on all sides. Closely pressed, the Bishop of Bayeux and his friends soon offered to yield, and to acknowledge Rufus as King, on condition of being allowed to retain their honours and their lands. Rufus, who was brave, though his courage somewhat resembled that of a wild beast, at first refused to listen to such terms. But the Normans in his army, having no mind to slaughter their friends and kinsmen, pressed him to accede.

"We, who have aided thee in this danger," said they, "pray thee to spare our countrymen and relatives, who are also thine, and who aided thy father to conquer England."

"Well," said Rufus, yielding to their representations, "I will grant them liberty to depart with arms and horses."

"But," said Odo, "we must stipulate that the king's military music shall not play in token of victory at our departure."

"By St. Luke's face!" exclaimed Rufus, fiercely, on hearing of this demand, "I will not make any such concession for a thousand gold marks."

Accordingly, when Odo and his friends left Rochester, with colours lowered, the royal trumpets sounded in token of victory; but far louder were the clamours that arose from the assembled Saxons.

"Bring us cords!" some cried; "we will hang this traitor bishop, with all his accomplices!"

"O king!" cried others, "why dost thou let him go free? He is not worthy to live – the traitor, the perjurer, the murderer of so many thousand men."

The war, after raging for some time longer, was terminated by a treaty. Curthose was bribed with a grant of land and with a promise of succeeding to the crown in the event of his surviving Rufus; while his adherents were pardoned and returned to their estates. But how did Rufus treat the Anglo-Saxons who had secured him victory? How did he fulfil the promises made to the Saxon chiefs who had brought their countrymen around him in the hour of need?

No sooner was the war at an end than Rufus became infinitely more tyrannical than ever his father had been. In vain Lanfranc, who had, as it were, stood sponsor, reminded the Red King of the pledges he had given.

"Remember your promises," said the venerable prelate.

"Tush!" stammered out Rufus; "how can a king keep all the promises he makes?"

Lanfranc was horrified. Dumb with amazement at the idea of solemn engagements, for which he had stood security, being thus repudiated, the archbishop retired into privacy, and soon after went the way of all flesh. The death of Lanfranc was regarded as a national calamity; and the Red King, freed from all restraint, and pursuing his career without scruple and without fear, lived like a scoundrel, and reigned like a tyrant.

Rufus seems to have had as little sympathy with the sentiments of that gallant French monarch who said that "society without ladies would be like the year without the spring; or, rather, like spring without the flowers," as with the sentiment of another French monarch, who said that, "if good faith were banished from all the rest of the world, it should still be found in the breasts of kings." No gentle wife had the Red King to exercise a softening influence on his harsh heart. From the first he was a confirmed bachelor, and his morals were dissolute in the extreme. It is true that at the court of Winchester no mediæval Diana of Poictiers or Madame Pompadour scandalized the grave and decorous by the spectacle of an abandoned woman, arrayed in purple and fine linen, enjoying a degree of royal favour not vouchsafed to a wedded wife. But Rufus indulged without restraint in amours with females too obscure to be mentioned by chroniclers; and such was the reputation of the king's court that, when he made progresses through England, women who had not discarded decency left their homes to save their honour, and took refuge in the depths of the forests.

At the same time the country through which the Red King passed was ruthlessly ravaged by his train. Goods and provisions were lawlessly seized; and such was the spirit of the courtiers that, when they found in the houses of the Saxons more than they could consume, they amused themselves by giving articles of food to the flames, and using wine to wash the feet of their horses.

Another kind of oppression was heavily felt by the vanquished race. The king deemed it necessary to construct a new wall round the Tower, to build a bridge over the Thames, and to add a great hall to the palace of Westminster. All around London men were taxed, and bands of labourers were forcibly compelled to take part in the works. Murmurs and complaints were frequent; but murmurs were useless and complaints unavailing.

In fact, under the government of the Red King, the affairs of England were conducted without the least reference to the feelings of those to whom he owed his throne. Deep, of course, was the discontent.

"Every year that passed," says the chronicler, "was heavy and full of sorrow, on account of the vexations without number, and the multiplied taxes."

XLVII.
RUFUS AND THE JEWS

AMONG the evils which the Saxons associated with the Norman Conquest, not the least was the introduction, by William the Conqueror, of a considerable number of Jews into England. Doubtless, ere that event, the fame of their wealth, and of the atrocious means by which it had been acquired, had preceded them. But their arrival from Rouen caused much dismay. Accounts of their usury, their traffic in human beings, and the insults offered by them to the Christian religion, were carried through the land, and so influenced the popular mind, that, of all the nations of modern Europe, the Anglo-Saxons learned most thoroughly to despise the degraded remnants of the chosen people. There was something about the appearance of men of Hebrew race which raised involuntary antipathy in the breasts of the inhabitants of England; and wherever the face of a Jew appeared, with the sensual lip, the sharp, hooked nose, and features the reverse of beautiful, hands instinctively clenched and lips curled with scorn.

The Red King did not share the prejudices of his Saxon subjects. Being an infidel, he could not think the worse of them because they were not Christians; and being a spendthrift, he was glad to avail himself of their wealth, without particularly inquiring into the nefarious means by which it had been acquired. In any case, Rufus gave the Jews considerable encouragement in matters of religion; and, whenever an opportunity occurred, he showed that he was not above pocketing their gold.

It appears that on one occasion the Red King even consented to a disputation being held in his presence between Jews and Christians. Before the arrival of the day appointed, the Jews came to Rufus, laid rich presents at his feet, and implored him to insure them a fair and impartial hearing.

"Doubtless," he answered; "and you must quit yourselves like men."

"Assuredly," said the Jews.

"And if you prevail in argument," exclaimed Rufus, "I swear by St. Luke's face that I myself will turn Jew, and be of your religion."

This disputation, like most disputations of the kind, came to nought, and Rufus was not called upon to redeem his pledge of becoming a convert. He did, however, contrive to turn the conversion of others to account. When a Jew happened to be brought to a knowledge of the truth, Rufus was quite ready, on certain terms, to lay his commands on the convert to return to Judaism. In this way, which ill became the king of a Christian people, he obtained considerable sums of money.

On one occasion a wealthy old Jew, whose son had seen the error of his ways, and embraced Christianity, appeared at the king's court, told his tale of woe, and entreated assistance.

"I am sore troubled," said the Hebrew; "I am bowed down with grief. O king," he continued, presenting Rufus with sixty marks, "command my son to return to the faith of his fathers."

"Ay," said Rufus, clutching the money; "bring your son to me, and I will bring him to reason."

The old Jew retired, and soon after returned with his son. The young Israelite, however, was unabashed as he entered the Red King's presence, conscious of the goodness of his cause.

"Young man," said Rufus, by way of settling the business in as few words as possible, "I command you, without delay, to return to the religion of your nation."

"King," said the young Israelite, in a tone of mournful reproach, "I marvel that you can give such advice. Being a Christian, you ought to feel it your duty rather to persuade me to remain steadfast to Christianity."

"Dog!" stammered out Rufus, in a loud tone; "get out of my sight without delay, or it will be the worse for thee."

The convert went his way, and the old Jew remained, deeply mortified at the result of the royal mediation, for which he had paid so high a price. But even at that instant his intense love of gold, prevailing over all considerations of propriety, prompted an attempt to recover his sixty marks.

"Since, O king," he said, "you have not persuaded my son to return to his religion, it would be but fair to restore to me the gold I gave to that end."

"Nay," answered the king, with his usual oath; "I have taken trouble enough, and have done work enough, for the gold, and more. And yet I would like to show you how kindly I can deal. Therefore you shall have one-half of the sixty marks, and in conscience you cannot deny me the other."