Chapter VI: The Loss of Normandy (1)

Duke Robert’s ambitious attempt to drive Henry I from the throne had ended in a signal failure. To be sure, he had gained the promise of an annual subsidy of 3000 marks of silver, and this must have seemed to him an important consideration. But he had also revealed his weakness and indecision; and Henry can hardly have looked upon the payment of the subsidy as more than a temporary measure which would serve his purpose until he was in a position to adopt a more aggressive course towards the duke. By accepting a money payment in lieu of his claim upon the English crown, Robert had inevitably been reduced from the offensive to the defensive; and his continued failure to give strong and effective government to Normandy was a standing invitation to Henry to attack him. The treaty of Alton marked the beginning of a path of disaster which was to lead the duke to the field of Tinchebray and the prison walls of Cardiff.

From a military standpoint there had been little of the heroic about Henry’s course in meeting the invasion. But he had won a diplomatic victory of the first importance, and he was not slow to take full advantage of his success. Regardless of the amnesty which had been provided by the recent treaty, he proceeded at once to take summary vengeance upon his enemies. Robert had not yet left the realm when the first blow fell upon William of Warenne and several others who were sent out of the kingdom with him, “disinherited for his sake.”[1] It soon appeared that a like fate was in store for others of the duke’s late supporters. King Henry did not proceed against them directly for calling in the invader—that presumably would have been a needless violation of the treaty—nor did he court disaster by attacking them all at once. But one by one, and upon various charges, he had them haled before his _curia_ and condemned.[2] Ivo of Grandmesnil, the crusader, attempted to engage in private war, a thing before almost unknown in England, and was made to pay for his presumption with a heavy fine. Covered with shame as he was, as a result of his cowardice at Antioch, and convinced that he would never be able to regain the king’s friendship, he found it advisable to extricate himself from his difficulties by departing a second time on crusade.[3] Robert Malet and Robert of Pontefract, son of Ilbert de Lacy, were also disinherited and made to quit the realm.[4]

Before proceeding against his more powerful enemies of the great house of Talvas, or Bellême, Henry made more careful preparations. For the best part of a year he set his secret agents to watch the terrible Robert, earl of Shrewsbury, and to gather information against him, which was all carefully reduced to writing.[5] Then suddenly, in 1102, the earl was summoned to appear before the _curia regis_,[6] accused upon forty-five separate counts of words spoken or acts committed against the king or his brother, the duke of Normandy. Tacitly admitting that his case was hopeless, the great earl fled to his strongholds without pleading, and was adjudged a public enemy.[7] War followed. One by one, the earl’s fortresses, Arundel, Tickhill, Bridgenorth, and Shrewsbury, were reduced; and before Michaelmas[8] Robert of Bellême was driven from England, an utterly defeated and disinherited outlaw. “Filled with grief and rage,” he went over sea and “spent his fury on the Normans.”[9]

It was not the king’s way to do things by halves. As soon as he had finished with Robert, he took action against other members of the Bellême family. Accusations were brought against Arnulf and Roger, Robert’s brothers, and they were condemned to the loss of their estates and driven from the realm.[10] But even then the king’s anger was not appeased or his appetite for plunder sated; and he proceeded to confiscate the lands which the nuns of the Norman monastery of Almenèches had received in England through the generosity of Roger of Montgomery.[11] Their sole offence lay in the fact that they happened to be presided over by Abbess Emma, a sister of Robert of Bellême.

While Henry was thus engaged in extirpating his enemies in England, Normandy under Duke Robert was increasingly a prey to confusion and anarchy. As we have noted, the death of William Rufus had been the signal for an outbreak of private war in the duchy. In the very week that the news of the king’s death was received, William of Évreux and Ralph of Conches made a hostile incursion into the territory of Beaumont and plundered the lands of Robert of Meulan. In a like spirit, others who had been held in check by the rigor of the Red King’s justice now took up arms and desolated the wretched country.[12] It is probable that the duke’s return from the Crusade and his attack upon England in some degree mitigated these conditions of disorder. The expedition against England could hardly have been fitted out and launched amid such anarchy as Ordericus describes. And as the turbulent barons prepared themselves for the foreign enterprise, their minds and hands must necessarily have been turned away from domestic feuds.

But for the same reason the failure of the attack upon England reacted disastrously upon Normandy, and brought on disorders hitherto unheard of. As Henry I expelled the outlaws from England, they invariably sought a refuge in Normandy and attempted to recoup their damaged fortunes by indulging in the worst excesses.[13] For a time Robert Curthose showed some spirit in dealing with the freebooters, though, if one accept the account of Ordericus Vitalis even with considerable reservations, his efforts did him little credit. When Henry embarked upon his great struggle with the house of Bellême in 1102, he appealed to Robert under the terms of the treaty of Alton to join him in the enterprise. And the duke so far responded to his call as to assemble the forces of Normandy and lay siege to the castle of Vignats, a Bellême stronghold, which was held by Gerard de Saint-Hilaire. It is reported that the garrison were ready and even eager to surrender, had a vigorous assault been made to give them a fair excuse. But the duke had little control over his undisciplined host, and Robert de Montfort and other traitors in the ranks fired the encampment and threw the whole army into a panic. The ducal forces fled in wild confusion with none pursuing, and the astonished garrison of Vignats shouted after them in derision.[14] Realizing now that they had nothing to fear, they issued from their stronghold and carried a devastating war throughout the Hiémois, and, so far as is recorded, the duke made no effort to repress them. Nothing remained but for the local lords of the district to defend themselves. Robert of Grandmesnil and his two brothers-in-law, Hugh de Montpinçon and Robert de Courcy, assembled their vassals and did what they could to check the freebooters. But their efforts met with small success. Other Bellême garrisons from Château-Gontier, Fourches, and Argentan joined with the plunderers from Vignats, and their raids were carried far and wide. Only the strong could defend themselves, and the homes of the unarmed peasantry were pillaged and given over to the flames.[15]

If we have here a true account, Robert Curthose had proved unequal to the task of putting down an insignificant body of Bellême’s retainers and of keeping peace in the restricted territory of the Hiémois. He was soon called upon to deal with the arch-enemy of peace and order in person. It must have been in the autumn of 1102 that Robert of Bellême, utterly discomfited and overwhelmed in England, crossed over to Normandy and began to vent his fury upon those of his countrymen who had dared to join the duke in attacking his garrisons.[16]

The disorders of 1102 were but a prelude to those that followed in 1103. We have only a fragmentary account of the events, but the general impression of the picture is that of a war of unparalleled violence and cruelty. Villages were depopulated, and churches were burned down upon the men, women, and children who had taken refuge in them. “Almost all Normandy” arose as by common consent against the tyrant of Bellême. But the movement was rendered ineffective for want of a strong and persistent leader.[17] Robert of Bellême, on his side, possessed almost unlimited resources. He is said to have held thirty-four strong castles, all well stocked with provisions and ready for war. Disregarding the claims of his brothers Roger and Arnulf, who had suffered outlawry and exile on his account, he retained the whole family inheritance in his own hands. While this kept his resources intact, it cost him the support of his brothers. Roger retired from the conflict and spent the rest of his life upon his wife’s patrimony at Charroux. But Arnulf in high indignation deserted the family cause and threw in his lot with Robert Curthose, taking with him a considerable number of Bellême supporters. Having recently captured the castle of Almenèches, he turned it over to the duke, who assembled an army there and prepared to press his advantage.[18] With ‘almost all Normandy’ in arms against him, with one of his brothers in retirement, and the other actively supporting the duke, the cause of Robert of Bellême might well seem desperate. He even doubted the fidelity of his closest friends. Yet, undismayed, he rushed to Almenèches, and, without a moment’s hesitation, fired the nunnery and burned it to the ground.[19] Overwhelming the ducal forces, he captured Oliver de Fresnay and many others, and subjected not a few of them to horrible punishments. The duke, admitting his defeat, retired to Exmes.[20]

The necessity of crushing Robert of Bellême now became more imperative than ever, and for a time there seemed some prospect of success. His violence and oppression had stirred up against him not only the Normans, but some of his powerful neighbors across the border. Rotrou of Mortagne joined forces with William of Évreux and the men of the Hiémois. Robert of Saint-Céneri and Hugh de Nonant also joined the movement with their retainers. But even this swarm of enemies was unable to inflict a crushing defeat upon the lord of Bellême. They could injure him in numerous small engagements, but to overcome him, or inflict any condign punishment upon him, was beyond their power.[21]

Robert of Bellême’s future in Normandy was finally determined by a decisive battle with the duke, but the place and date of the engagement are not recorded. We are without information as to the duke’s movements after his retirement from Almenèches to Exmes, though it seems clear that he reassembled his troops and determined to renew the offensive against Robert of Bellême. But the lord of Bellême did not wait to be attacked. Drawing up his forces in battle order as the ducal army was approaching, he launched a furious onslaught which carried all before it. The duke was put to flight, and William of Conversano and many others of his supporters were captured. Then, laments the chronicler, “the proud Normans blushed for shame that they, who had been the conquerors of barbarous foreign nations, should now be vanquished and put to flight by one of their own sons in the very heart of their own country.” Robert of Bellême is said to have aspired to the conquest of the whole duchy. Many of the Normans who hitherto had resisted him now felt constrained to bow their necks beneath the yoke, and joined the tyrant for the sake of their own safety. Pressing his advantage home, he now gained possession of Exmes.[22] The discomfiture of the duke was complete, and he had no choice but to conclude a peace with his too powerful subject upon humiliating terms.[23]

Bishop Serlo of Séez and Ralph, abbot of Saint-Martin of Séez, unable any longer to bear the oppression of the tyrant, withdrew from their posts and crossed over to England, where they were cordially welcomed by Henry I.[24] They were to be of no small service to the king in the shaping of his future policy.

While the diocese of Séez was a prey to the indescribable confusion of the struggle with Robert of Bellême, the Évrecin was not spared the horrors of a private war. There the death of William of Breteuil[25] without legitimate issue,[26] and a consequent disputed succession, had reopened an ancient local feud.[27] While William was being buried at Lire, a natural son named Eustace seized his lands and occupied the strongholds.[28] But a nephew named Renaud, of the illustrious Burgundian house of Grancey, claimed the succession as legitimate heir. Many of the Normans preferred a fellow countryman, though a bastard, to a foreigner, and supported Eustace. But the ancient enemies of Breteuil rallied around the Burgundian. William of Évreux led the movement, and was promptly joined by Ralph of Conches, Amaury de Montfort, and Ascelin Goël.[29] But Eustace was supported by loyal and powerful vassals; and when he saw that he could not win single-handed, he appealed for aid to Henry I, who was quick to realize the advantages which the Breteuil succession controversy offered for the inauguration of a far-reaching policy of intervention in the internal affairs of Normandy. The king not only promised Eustace the desired assistance, but he gave him the hand of Juliana, one of his natural daughters, in marriage.[30] And further, he sent his able and trusted minister, Robert of Meulan—who as lord of Beaumont had special interests in the disturbed district—to Normandy to deal personally with the situation and to warn Robert Curthose and the Normans barons that unless they supported his son-in-law and drove out the foreign intruder, they would incur his royal displeasure. With such powerful backing, Eustace of Breteuil gradually got the better of his rival—who waged the war with such disgusting cruelty that he alienated many of his adherents—and finally made himself master of the whole of his father’s honor, and expelled the foreigner from the land.[31]

It was one thing to expel the foreigner; it was quite another to overcome the local enemies of Breteuil who had rallied around the intruder for the sake of their own advantage. With these, Robert of Meulan undertook to deal, and he found them aggressive enemies, if more nearly bandits and robbers than warriors. Ascelin Goël, whose prison walls at Ivry had on a former occasion closed around William of Breteuil, ambushed and captured a certain John of Meulan, a rich burgess and usurer, when he was returning from a conference with his lord, the count of Beaumont. For four months the ‘avaricious usurer’ lay in Ascelin’s gaol. Doubtless the financial resources of the wealthy burgess were of no small concern to Robert of Meulan, and he made frantic efforts to procure his release. But try as he might, he could not extract him from the ‘wolf’s mouth.’ Finally he was obliged to conclude a peace with William of Évreux, betrothing his infant daughter Adelina to William’s nephew Amaury de Montfort. Ralph of Conches, Eustace of Breteuil, Ascelin Goël, and the other belligerent lords were included in the pacification, and John of Meulan, the usurer, was set at liberty.[32]

It is not recorded that Robert Curthose interfered in any way in this private war, or made any effort to suppress it. Perhaps he was at the time wholly occupied by the struggle with Robert of Bellême, or perhaps he may already have been on his way to England on a mission of intercession for a friend. But before following him again across the Channel, we must take some account of his domestic affairs.

The Norman heiress, Sibyl of Conversano, whom Robert brought back with him from Italy to be duchess of Normandy, has been universally praised for her surpassing beauty, refinement of manners, and excellent qualities.[33] Though she may have had a few private enemies, she enjoyed a great popularity; and Robert of Torigny affirms that at times during the duke’s absence she was entrusted with the administration of the duchy, and that in this capacity she was more successful than her husband.[34] But her beneficent career of usefulness was short indeed. Soon after the birth of her only child,[35] William the Clito, she died at Rouen,[36] and was buried, amid universal sorrow, in the cathedral church, Archbishop William Bonne-Ame performing the obsequies.[37]

The cause of Sibyl’s death is shrouded in mystery. William of Malmesbury reports simply that she died shortly after the birth of her son, as the result of foolish advice given by the midwife.[38] But Ordericus Vitalis does not spare us a dark scandal. According to him Agnes de Ribemont, sister of the distinguished crusader, had recently been left a widow by the death of her husband Walter Giffard, and, becoming infatuated with Robert Curthose, had entangled him in the snares of illicit love. By undertaking to gain for him the aid of her powerful family connections against his numerous enemies, she obtained from him a promise that, upon the death of his wife, he would marry her and intrust her with the administration of the duchy. Soon after, the beautiful Sibyl took to her bed and died of poison.[39] It seems almost incredible that this tale should be anything but a malicious libel got up by some of the duke’s unscrupulous enemies. Duchess Sibyl was probably already dead before Agnes de Ribemont became a widow. But in the chaotic chronology of the early chapters of the eleventh book of Ordericus Vitalis, it is impossible to speak with any assurance, and a dark saying of Robert of Torigny may possibly lend some color to the scandalous tale.[40]

It would seem that with domestic bereavement, and the distractions of rebellion and private war, Robert Curthose had enough to occupy him within the limits of his duchy. Yet it was apparently during this critical period that a foolish impulse of generosity towards a friend led him to embark upon an enterprise which resulted in further humiliation and disaster. William of Warenne, one of the barons who had been deprived of his possessions and honors in England after the failure of the invasion of 1101, came to the duke to complain that through loyalty to his cause he had lost the great earldom of Surrey with its annual revenue of 1000 pounds, and besought him to intercede with King Henry in order that he might regain the earldom and the royal favor. Apparently the duke had not yet realized the character of his unscrupulous brother, or the hostile plans which Henry was maturing against him, and he readily consented to William of Warenne’s request.[41]

It must have been towards the end of the year 1103 that Duke Robert crossed the Channel with a small suite of knights and squires and landed at Southampton.[42] Henry I was quick to realize the advantages of the situation, and with perfect unscrupulousness he determined to use them to the utmost. Feigning great indignation that Robert had presumed to enter his dominions without permission and a safe-conduct, he sent his agents—Robert of Meulan seems to have been chiefly charged with the enterprise[43]—to intimate to him that he was in grave danger of capture and imprisonment. The duke was taken completely by surprise. He had no armed force at his back. He was, in fact, at the king’s mercy, although the externals of an honorable reception were accorded him, and he was conducted to the royal court, where negotiations were carried on in private. Henry charged him with a violation of the treaty of Alton in that, instead of punishing traitors with the rigor befitting a prince, he had made peace with Robert of Bellême and had confirmed him in the possession of certain of their father’s domains. The duke, appreciating his helplessness in the situation in which he found himself, humbly promised to make amends; but the king now informed him that he desired something more than this—indeed, that he would not permit him to quit the realm until he had surrendered his claim to the annual subsidy of 3000 marks which was due him under the terms of the treaty of Alton. In order that this crowning humiliation might be cloaked in a garb of decency, the duke was allowed to see the queen, his god-daughter, and to relinquish the subsidy as if at her request.[44] But this clever play upon his chivalrous nature could not conceal the character of the transaction. Robert in his ineffable simplicity had been treacherously taken and robbed. According to William of Malmesbury, the king had even gone the length of inducing him to come to England by a special invitation.[45] However this may be, and whatever the uncertainty about the details of this episode, the sources are agreed as to the character of the part which the king had played in it.[46] Wace avers that it was only then that Robert began to realize that his brother hated him.[47]

William of Warenne was now restored to the royal favor, and recovered his earldom. And the duke, having given full satisfaction in all that was demanded of him, was allowed to return to Normandy, a greater object of contempt than ever among his subjects.[48] It can hardly be doubted that from this moment the king had formed a deliberate project of depriving him of his duchy and of reuniting Normandy to England. Step by step Robert was paving the way to his own destruction, while Henry with equal sureness was preparing himself for the final triumph. Whatever prestige the duke had brought back with him from the Crusade must long since have been dissipated. He had failed lamentably in his attempt to gain the English crown, he had failed to oust an ever encroaching enemy from the strongholds of his duchy, he had failed to subdue his most powerful and lawless subject, Robert of Bellême. He had placed no check upon the anarchy of private war, he had wasted his fortune upon base associates and barren enterprises, and he had alienated the Norman church.

Since the duke’s return from the Crusade, government in Normandy seems to have been almost in abeyance. Nothing could more surely have lost Robert the support of the church than the unrestrained anarchy and disorder which prevailed. Yet there were other grounds on which he was found wanting by the clergy. While dissipating his treasure upon unworthy favorites and unscrupulous courtiers, he had few favors to bestow upon religious foundations. Only a single charter by the duke has survived from the period after his return from the Crusade, a grant of a fair and a market in the village of Cheux to the monks of Saint-Étienne of Caen.[49]

But the church had greater and more positive grievances against Robert Curthose. His peace and friendship with Robert of Bellême were an unpardonable offence; and by granting lucrative rights over the bishopric of Séez to this turbulent vassal,[50] the duke had aroused enemies whose influence against him was to prove disastrous in the crisis of 1105. As has already been explained,[51] Serlo, bishop of Séez, and Ralph, abbot of Saint-Martin of Séez, deemed it intolerable longer to endure the oppression of the tyrant; and going into voluntary exile, they sought an asylum in England, where they were warmly welcomed by Henry I.[52] The value which the king attached to the support and services of Abbot Ralph may perhaps be judged by the fact that he was promoted to the see of Rochester in 1108 and made archbishop of Canterbury in 1114; and it is no mere chance that it was Bishop Serlo who was to welcome King Henry and his invading army in Normandy in 1105, and to preach the sermon which was to stand as the public justification of the king’s action in dispossessing his brother of the duchy.[53]

But the duke had sinned further against the church through the practice of simony. A peculiarly flagrant case occurred in 1105 in connection with the abbey of Saint-Pierre-sur-Dives. Upon the death of Abbot Fulk, the duke sold the abbacy for one hundred and forty-five marks of silver to a certain Robert, a wicked monk of Saint-Denis, who like a devouring wolf drove out the monks, built a stronghold in the sacred precincts of the monastery, and garrisoned it with armed retainers whom he hired out of profits derived from the sale of ecclesiastical ornaments belonging to the abbey.[54]

More notorious still, and more fatal to the good name of the duke, was the situation which arose in the bishopric of Lisieux upon the death of Gilbert Maminot in August 1101. At first Ranulf Flambard, the notorious bishop of Durham, succeeded in gaining the vacant see for his brother Fulcher, who, in spite of his illiteracy, had some commendable qualities; and since he lived but a few months after his consecration, no active protest was raised against him.[55] But upon his death, Flambard resorted to a more scandalous measure and obtained the see for his son Thomas, a youth some twelve years of age.[56] The duke invested the boy with the sacred office, at the same time agreeing that, if he should die, another of Flambard’s sons, who was still younger, should succeed to the bishopric.[57] And meanwhile Flambard himself administered the affairs of the see, “not as bishop but as steward.”[58]

So matters stood for some three years, until in 1105 the great canonist and reformer, Ivo of Chartres, intervened, and through his immense influence elevated what had hitherto been but a flagrant local abuse into an affair of something like European importance. He wrote to the Norman bishops demanding that they put an end to such a scandal.[59] Meanwhile, the serious danger in which Robert Curthose stood of losing his duchy brought him for a moment to his senses, and, at the urgent warning of the archbishop of Rouen and of the bishop of Évreux, he had Flambard and his sons ejected from the see, and gave orders for a canonical election.[60] The choice of the clergy fell upon William, archdeacon of Évreux, a worthy man, who went at once to the metropolitan and demanded consecration;[61] and Ivo of Chartres wrote to congratulate the Norman bishops upon having purged the church of the ‘dirty boys’ who had been thrust into the sacred office.[62] But now new complications arose. It so happened that William Bonne-Ame, archbishop of Rouen, was then under sentence of excommunication, and therefore incompetent to install the new bishop elect. Accordingly, the latter wrote Bishop Ivo to inquire whether under the circumstances he might legitimately receive consecration from the suffragans of the excommunicated archbishop. Ivo confessed himself unable to answer the question, and referred the bishop elect to Rome to deal directly with the Holy See.[63]

During this unexpected delay, Flambard executed another ‘tergiversation.’ He induced the duke, in return for a great sum, to confer the bishopric upon one of his clerks, a certain William de Pacy.[64] Again the venerable Ivo wrote to the archbishop of Rouen and the bishop of Évreux to protest against this new introduction of uncleanness into the church which they had so recently purged, and to warn them that unless they acted with vigor to correct this latest abuse, he would bring the “filthy, fetid rumor to the apostolic ears” to their no small disadvantage.[65] The threat was not without avail. William de Pacy was summoned to Rouen to answer before the metropolitan for his conduct, and was able to make no defence. He freely admitted that he had received the bishopric neither by election of clergy and people nor by the free gift of the duke. Judgment upon him, however, was suspended—perhaps because the archbishop was still under sentence of excommunication—and he was sent to Rome, there to be condemned for simony.[66] Bishop Ivo wrote to the Pope setting forth in detail the whole course of the disgraceful business.

But now Ivo of Chartres went a step farther. He had put the full weight of the great moral influence which he exerted in Europe upon the Norman bishops. He had laid the scandal of Lisieux before the Pope. He now turned his gaze across the English Channel. Writing to Robert of Meulan, King Henry’s trusted minister, he again protested against the disgraceful intrusion of Ranulf Flambard into the see of Lisieux. He urged him to use his well known influence with the king to induce him to do whatever he could for the liberation of the oppressed church, lest those who had welcomed Henry’s intervention in the affairs of Normandy, and had predicted that good would come of it, “should willy-nilly change the serenity of their praise into clouds of vituperation.” “For,” said he, “kings are not instituted that they may break the laws, but that, if the destroyers of laws cannot otherwise be corrected, they may strike them down with the sword.”[67] Could even a more scrupulous monarch than Henry I have resisted such a call to arms?[68]

As a returned crusader, Robert Curthose might possibly have looked to the Holy See for some support against his enemies. Indeed, he had done so. Before embarking upon the invasion of England in 1101, he had written to the Pope complaining that Henry had violated his oath in assuming the English crown; and Pascal had felt constrained to write Anselm a mild letter[69] in which he recognized the special obligations of the papacy to one who had labored “in the liberation of the church of Asia.” He asked Anselm to join with the legates he was sending in mediating between the warring brothers, ‘unless peace had already been made between them.’[70] But at best this was only a perfunctory and belated recognition of an inconvenient obligation, and Pascal can hardly have seriously expected to influence the situation in Duke Robert’s favor.

And as time elapsed, the attitude of Pascal did not become more favorable to the duke. In the summer of 1105 the relations between the papacy and Henry I suddenly improved greatly, and from that time rapid progress was made towards a definite settlement of the investiture controversy in England.[71] This removed the last possible consideration which might have induced the Pope to support the duke against the king in Normandy. Moreover, a fragment of Pascal’s correspondence with Robert Curthose, which has recently been brought to light,[72] reveals the fact that at this very time the Pope was engaged in an investiture struggle with the duke. We would gladly know more of this controversy, but this single surviving letter is enough to show that the Pope had complained that, contrary to the law of the church, Robert was performing investitures with staff and ring; that, treating the church not as the spouse of Christ but as a handmaiden, he was giving her over to be ruled by usurping enemies. Probably Pascal referred to the notorious scandals of Lisieux and of Saint-Pierre-sur-Dives. Something also of the duke’s reply may be gathered from the papal letter. Taking his stand upon the rights and customs of his ancestors, he had boldly claimed for himself the right of investiture. This was sound ducal policy, but it would not be accepted in Rome from such a prince as Robert Curthose. It could only serve to complete the breach between the ex-crusader and the Holy See and leave the duke without support in his hour of need.

Meanwhile, in what striking contrast with the weak and blundering policy of Robert Curthose, were the careful, methodical preparations which Henry I was making for the struggle upon which he had determined! With him all was wisdom, foresight, largeness of view, self-control.

The friendly relations between the courts of France and England, established at the beginning of Henry’s reign by the state visit of Louis, the king designate of France, have already been remarked upon.[73] Henry I took good care to preserve and cultivate this diplomatic cordiality during the critical years of his struggle for Normandy. And, as will appear in the sequel, his efforts were abundantly rewarded when Prince Louis officially recognized his conquest of the duchy shortly after it was completed.[74] In the same spirit the king prepared for all eventualities on the side of Flanders. In the archives of the English exchequer there has been preserved an original chirograph of a treaty which he concluded, apparently in 1103, with Count Robert of Flanders.[75] By its terms the count bound himself, in exchange for an annual subsidy of four hundred marks, to furnish the king with a force of a thousand knights—for service in Normandy, among other places, be it noted—and to do his utmost to dissuade the king of France from any attack upon the king of England. Further, as the decisive struggle approached, Henry entered into agreements with the princes of Maine, Anjou, and Brittany for contingents to be furnished from those regions to his army for the conquest of Normandy. The record of the negotiations has not been preserved; but we shall meet with these contingents rendering effective service in the campaigns of 1105 and 1106.[76]

But Henry prepared himself against the duke not only by the careful manipulation of his relations with foreign powers; he spared no effort to undermine him in the duchy. His intervention in the war of the Breteuil succession and the marriage of his daughter Juliana to Eustace of Breteuil have already been alluded to.[77] A similar purpose must have prompted him to arrange the marriage of another of his natural daughters to Rotrou of Mortagne,[78] one of the chief enemies of Robert of Bellême, and an old companion in arms of Robert Curthose on the Crusade. Some hint, at least, of the nature of the pacification which Robert of Meulan was intended to make when he was sent to Normandy as the king’s special agent in 1103 may be gathered from the efforts which he made to procure the liberation of the ‘avaricious usurer,’ John of Meulan.[79] It can hardly be doubted that Henry was making free use of money in the corruption of the duke’s influential subjects and in the upbuilding of an English party in Normandy. And in this policy he was very successful. Not only were important Norman churchmen imploring his aid and working for his intervention; but many great nobles were either openly or secretly deserting the duke and offering their services to the English cause. The movement is well illustrated by the case of Ralph III of Conches. His father, Ralph II, had been among the Norman barons who upon the death of William Rufus had taken up arms and plundered the lands of Robert of Meulan at Beaumont.[80] He was certainly no friend of Henry I. But upon his death, probably in 1102,[81] his son saw new light. Crossing to England, he was cordially welcomed by the king, who granted him his father’s lands and the hand of an English heiress who was connected with the royal family.[82] Such a shining example was not lost upon other Norman barons who now deserted the duke and besought King Henry ‘with tears’ to come to the aid of the suffering church and of their wretched country.[83]

By the beginning of 1104, Henry I had acquired a strong party, both lay and ecclesiastical, in Normandy, which eagerly awaited his coming and stood ready to aid him in the overthrow of Robert Curthose and in the conquest of the duchy. He had never given up Domfront, and he apparently retained possession of certain strongholds in the Cotentin,[84] the treaty of Alton notwithstanding. Upon these he could rely as a secure base while his friends rallied around him after he had landed on Norman soil. Henry’s diplomacy, however, could not remove all enemies from his path, and he sometimes chose to defy them. William of Mortain, earl of Cornwall, had been among the duke’s most powerful supporters against the king in 1101. Yet, for some unexplained reason, he did not suffer the prompt banishment to which the Bellêmes and other traitors were condemned when the crisis of the invasion had passed. The king temporized and kept up at least an appearance of friendship. It is even intimated that in 1104 he sent the earl to Normandy to act on his behalf. However this may be, when William of Mortain arrived in Normandy, he worked against the king rather than for him, and, as a result, was promptly deprived of all his English honors.[85] The duke had gained at least one supporter who would not desert him.

The year 1104 was for Henry I a period of active preparation for an enterprise which he was not yet ready publicly to avow. His trusted agents were busy in Normandy preparing the way with English treasure. Gradually and quietly he was sending men and equipment to reënforce the garrisons of his Norman strongholds.[86] Indeed, if Ordericus Vitalis can be trusted,[87] Henry himself crossed the Channel with a fleet and paid a visit to Domfront and his castles in Normandy in great state, and was welcomed by Robert of Meulan, Richard earl of Chester, Stephen of Aumale, Henry of Eu, Rotrou of Mortagne, Robert Fitz Hamon, Robert de Montfort, Ralph de Mortimer, and many others who held estates in England and were ready to support him in an attack upon the duchy. The list shows strikingly the proportions to which the English party in Normandy had grown. Encouraged by his enthusiastic reception, the king is said to have taken a lofty tone in his dealings with the duke. He summoned him to a conference and lectured him upon his incompetence. Again, as the year before in England, he upbraided him for making peace with Robert of Bellême and for granting to him the domains of the Conqueror, contrary to their agreements. He charged him with abetting highwaymen and brigands, and with dissipating the wealth of his duchy upon the impudent scamps and hangers-on who surrounded him. He declared him neither a real prince nor a shepherd of his people, since he suffered the defenceless population to remain a prey to ravening wolves. This eloquent indictment, we are told, quite overwhelmed the duke. Though he placed the blame for his misdeeds upon his turbulent associates, he craved the king’s pardon and offered to compensate him by surrendering the homage of William of Évreux together with his county and his vassals. Henry accepted the offer, William of Évreux agreed, and a formal transfer of the homage was effected, the duke placing the count’s hands between the hands of the king. And with this reward for his pains, Henry returned to England “before winter,” doubtless more than ever convinced of the weakness of Robert Curthose and of the feasibility of his overthrow and of the conquest of the duchy.[88]

Henry’s visit had given a further shock to the duke’s prestige, and his return to England was followed by a renewed outbreak of anarchy and disorder in the duchy. Robert of Bellême and William of Mortain, in high indignation at the new advantages which the king had gained, began to attack his adherents, and such was the harrying and burning and wholesale murder which ensued that many of the unarmed peasants fled into France with their wives and children.[89] Robert Fitz Hamon, lord of Torigny and Creully, one of the duke’s chief supporters in 1101, had thrown in his lot with the king, and his treason against the duke had been of so black a character as to render him particularly odious among loyal subjects and to arouse intense indignation against him. He now took to plundering the countryside, and as he was harrying the Bessin, Gontier d’Aunay and Reginald of Warenne with the forces from Bayeux and Caen managed to cut him off and surround him in the village of Secqueville. He sought refuge in the church tower, but the sanctuary did not protect him; for the church was burned, and he was taken prisoner. As his captors led him away to Bayeux, they had great difficulty to keep him from the hands of the mob which crowded after them, shouting

La hart, la hart al traitor
Qui a guerpi son dreit seignor![90]

Such were the chaotic conditions in Normandy as they are depicted for us in the spring of 1105. Yet we should beware of exaggeration. They may not have been general. Indeed, they probably were not. Our evidence, at best, is but fragmentary, and it rests in the main upon the testimony of Ordericus Vitalis, who was no friend of Robert Curthose, and who dwelt in the debatable region of the south, where the lawless elements were most unbridled, and where the disturbing influence of English aggression had made most headway. Even though we accept at its face value the testimony concerning the diocese of Séez, the Bessin, and the Cotentin, it seems reasonable, in the absence of such evidence for other parts of the duchy, to conclude that conditions elsewhere were almost certainly better.

It is impossible to form anything like a complete picture of the state of the defences of the duchy upon the eve of the English invasion. Robert of Bellême and William of Mortain, by far the most powerful of the duke’s supporters, were still in undisputed possession of their hereditary Norman dominions. Robert d’Estouteville had charge of the duke’s troops and castles in the pays de Caux.[91] Hugh de Nonant was in command at Rouen.[92] His nephew Gontier d’Aunay was charged with the defence of Bayeux;[93] and, apparently, Enguerran, son of Ilbert de Lacy, with that of Caen.[94] Others of the duke’s chief supporters were Reginald of Warenne,[95] brother of the earl of Surrey, and William of Conversano,[96] brother of the late Duchess Sibyl. The ducal forces were evidently too weak to offer effectual resistance in the open. Robert’s hope lay in the strength of his fortresses; and it appears that he made a spirited effort to put them in a state of defence, though his financial resources were near exhaustion. Wace is specific with regard to the works which were undertaken at Caen. In his day, it was still possible to trace one of the great trenches which had been dug

par la rue Meisine,
Qui a la porte Milet fine,

and which was connected with the waters of the Orne. So long as the duke could raise money by laying taxes upon the burgesses, he hired mercenaries, and for the rest he made promises. But his exactions only served to stir up the townsmen against him, without being in any way adequate to keep his forces together. In a steady stream they deserted to the king, and the helpless duke could only remark characteristically:

Laissiez aler!
Ne poon a toz estriver;
Laissiez aler, laissiez venir!
Ne poon pas toz retenir.[97]

Meanwhile, Henry I, having fitted out his expedition for the invasion of Normandy, crossed the Channel in Holy Week 1105,[98] and landed without opposition at Barfleur in the Cotentin; and on Easter eve he found quarters in the village of Carentan.[99]

Then, according to the account of Ordericus Vitalis, there followed an amazing piece of acting. The venerable Serlo, bishop of Séez, “first of the Normans to offer his services to the king,” came to Carentan to celebrate Easter in the royal presence. Clothing himself in his sacred vestments, he entered the church. And while he sat awaiting the assembling of the people and of the king’s followers before beginning the service, he observed that the church was filled with all sorts of chests and utensils and various kinds of gear which the peasants had brought in for protection from the war and anarchy which were devastating the Cotentin. It was probably in the main from pillage by the king’s forces that the frightened peasantry were seeking protection,[100] but this fact did not prevent the facile bishop from making the scene before him his point of departure for a ringing appeal to arms, and for a public justification of Henry’s attack upon Normandy. Observing the king with a group of his nobles seated humbly among the peasants’ panniers at the lower end of the church, Serlo heaved a deep sigh for the misery of the people and rose to speak.

The hearts of all the faithful, he said, should mourn for the distresses of the church and for the wretchedness of the people. The Cotentin was laid waste and depopulated. For lack of a governor all Normandy was a prey to thieves and robbers. The church of God, which ought to be a place of prayer, was now, for want of a righteous defender, turned into a storehouse for the peasants’ belongings. There was no room left in which to kneel reverently or to stand devoutly before the Divine Majesty because of the clutter of goods which the helpless rustics for fear of plunderers had brought into the Lord’s house. And so, where government failed, the church had perforce become the refuge of a defenceless people. Yet not even in the church was there security; for that very year, in Serlo’s own diocese of Séez, Robert of Bellême had burned the church of Tournay to the ground, and men and women to the number of forty-five had perished in it. Robert, the king’s brother, did not really possess the duchy or rule his people as a duke who walked in the path of justice. He was an indolent and an abandoned prince, who had made himself subservient to William of Conversano, Hugh de Nonant, and Gontier d’Aunay. He had dissipated the wealth of his fair duchy in vanity and upon trifles. Often he fasted till three in the afternoon for lack of bread. Often he dared not rise from bed and attend mass for want of trousers, stockings, and shoes; for the buffoons and harlots who infested his quarters had carried them off during the night while he lay snoring in drunkenness; and then they impudently boasted that they had robbed the duke. So, the head languishing, the whole body was sick, and a prince without understanding had placed the whole duchy in peril. Let the king arise, therefore, in God’s name, and obtain his paternal inheritance with the sword of justice. Let him snatch his ancestral possessions from the hands of base men. Let him give rein to his righteous anger, as did David of old, not from any worldly desire for territorial aggrandizement, but for the defence of his ‘native soil.’[101]

Moved by this stirring appeal, the king gravely arose. “In the Lord’s name,” he said, “I will rise to this labor for the sake of peace, and with your aid I will seek peace for the church.” Robert of Meulan and other barons present applauded the momentous decision.

And now, behold another wonder! King Henry had become the defender of the church. In order that his virtue might appear the more transcendent, he was now to join the ranks of the reformers of morals. The venerable Serlo, resuming his discourse, proceeded to harangue the king and his suite upon the evils of the outlandish fashions which had recently been taken up in high society, to the great scandal of the clergy and of decent Christians. Like obdurate sons of Belial, the men of fashion had taken to dressing their hair like women and to wearing things like scorpion’s tails at the extremities of their feet, so that they resembled women because of their effeminacy, and serpents by reason of their pointed fangs. This kind of men had been foretold a thousand years before by St. John the Divine, under the figure of locusts. Let the king offer his subjects a laudable example, in order that they might see in his person a model by which to regulate their own.

Again Henry was convinced by episcopal eloquence and readily assented to Serlo’s proposal. The bishop had come prepared. Amid a general consternation which may well be imagined, he drew shears from his wallet and proceeded to crop the royal locks. Robert of Meulan was the next victim to be sacrificed to the bishop’s reforming zeal. And by this time the rest of the royal household and the congregation, anticipating a positive order from the king, began to vie with one another as to which should be shorn first; and soon they were trampling under foot as vile refuse the locks which a few moments before they had cherished as their most precious possessions.[102]

The reader may, perhaps, be left to judge for himself as to the amount of credibility to be attached to the highly colored and obviously strongly prejudiced narrative of Ordericus Vitalis which has here been paraphrased. It clearly has a significance of its own, quite apart from the question of strict historical veracity. The speech of Bishop Serlo, as we have it, is, of course, not his at all, but a literary creation of the monk of Saint-Évroul. Yet it must pretty faithfully represent the contemporary point of view of the Norman clergy and of royal apologists generally. It sets forth the king’s ‘platform,’ to borrow a very modern term, and contains the grounds on which contemporaries attempted to justify what was in reality an unjustifiable act of aggression. Moreover, in spite of much imaginary coloring, there must be a certain residuum of truth in Ordericus’s narrative, which illustrates again in a striking manner the extreme care and almost endless detail with which Henry I prepared his way for the conquest of Normandy. In spite of the mediaeval trappings, there is something almost modern about this elaborate attempt to manipulate public opinion and to crystallize a party. Further, it is not a little significant that the Easter scene at Carentan could have been enacted at all. That Henry should have been able to land an invading army at Barfleur, advance without opposition to an unprotected village, and there delay at will in all security, is a striking proof of the defenceless condition of the duchy. The duke’s sole reliance was in his strongholds. There is no evidence that he had any force assembled to oppose the invader in the open.

King Henry had no need to hurry. While he delayed at Carentan, his supporters in Normandy rallied around him, and his forces gained greatly in strength. His landing at Barfleur had been the signal for further desertions among the duke’s vassals. English gold and silver were all-powerful.[103] Wace says the king had ‘bushels’ of the precious treasure. He carried it about with him in ‘hogsheads’ loaded upon carts, and by its judicious distribution among barons, castellans, and doughty warriors, he readily persuaded them to desert their lord the duke.[104] Meanwhile, Henry sent envoys to King Philip of France,[105] and summoned his allies, Geoffrey Martel and Helias of La Flèche, to join him with their Angevins and Manceaux.[106]

The military events of the campaign which followed are obscure, and can be traced with little chronological certainty. We hear of some sort of hostile encounter at Maromme near Rouen shortly after Easter, but we know nothing about it, save that a certain knight in the service of Robert d’Estouteville was slain.[107] The chief military undertaking of the campaign was undoubtedly the siege of Bayeux. Against Bayeux and its commander, Gontier d’Aunay, the king had a particular grievance because of the capture and imprisonment of his supporter Robert Fitz Hamon.[108] Accordingly, he assembled all his forces, including his allies from Maine and Anjou, and laid siege to Bayeux.[109] Gontier d’Aunay went out to meet him and promptly handed over his prisoner, Robert Fitz Hamon. He declined, however, to make any further concessions, and Henry refused to raise the siege.[110] But the garrison failed to justify the confidence which their commander had placed in them,[111] and, in an assault, Henry managed to fire the city.[112] A high wind carried the flames from roof to roof, and soon the whole place was swept by the conflagration. Bishop Odo’s beautiful cathedral and several other churches, the house of the canons attached to the cathedral, the house of a distinguished citizen named Conan, almost all the buildings in the town, in fact, except a few poor huts, were destroyed. Many of the inhabitants, who in their terror had fled to the cathedral, perished in the flames. The place was given over to be plundered by the Manceaux and the Angevins, and Gontier d’Aunay and many of the garrison were taken captive.[113]

Caen was the next important place to fall into Henry’s hands; but here no siege was necessary. The fate of Bayeux had spread consternation throughout the duchy, and served as a terrible warning of what might be expected, if resistance proved unsuccessful; and the burgesses of Caen had little love for the duke, who had made them feel the weight of his exactions. Accordingly, a conspiracy was formed among certain of the leading citizens, Enguerran de Lacy and the ducal garrison were expelled, and the town was basely surrendered to the English, to the intense indignation of the common people, among whom the duke appears to have been popular.[114] Robert Curthose was himself in Caen at the time, and, learning of the plot at the last moment, he fled headlong to the Hiémois. His attendants, who followed closely after him, were held up at the gate, and his baggage was rifled.[115] In grateful appreciation of this easy conquest, the king conferred the manor of Dallington, in England, upon the wealthy burgesses who had betrayed the second town of Normandy into his hands.[116]