Chapter XI: Part 11

"Then the Duke bade Walter Giffard bear the standard. But he was old and white-headed, and bade the Duke give the standard to some younger and stronger man to carry. Then the Duke said fiercely, 'By the splendor of God, my lords, I think you mean to betray and fail me in this great need.' 'Sire,' said Giffart, 'not so! we have done no treason, nor do I refuse from any felony toward you; but I have to lead a great chivalry, both hired men and the men of my fief. Never had I such good means of serving you as I now have; and, if God please, I will serve you; if need be I will die for you, and will give my own heart for yours.'

"'By my faith,' quoth the Duke, 'I always loved thee, and now I love thee more; if I survive this day, thou shalt be the better for it all thy days.' Then he called out a knight, whom he had heard much praised, Tosteins Fitz-Rou le Blanc by name, whose abode was at Bec-en-Caux. To him he delivered the standard; and Tosteins took it right cheerfully, and bowed low to him in thanks, and bore it gallantly and with good heart. His kindred still have quittance of all service for their inheritance on this account, and their heirs are entitled so to hold their inheritance forever.

"William sat on his war-horse, and called out Rogier, whom they call De Montgomeri. 'I rely much on you,' said he; 'lead your men thitherward and attack them from that side. William, the son of Osbern the seneschal, a right good vassal, shall go with you and help in the attack, and you shall have the men of Boilogne and Poix and all my soldiers. Alain Fergert and Ameri shall attack on the other side; they shall lead the Poitevins and the Bretons and all the barons of Maine; and I, with my own great men, my friends and kindred, will fight in the middle throng, where the battle shall be the hottest.'

"The barons and knights and men-at-arms were all now armed; the foot-soldiers were well equipped, each bearing bow and sword; on their heads were caps, and to their feet were bound buskins. Some had good hides which they had bound round their bodies; and many were clad in frocks, and had quivers and bows hung to their girdles. The knights had hauberks and swords, boots of steel, and shining helmets; shields at their necks, and in their hands lances. And all had their cognizances, so that each might know his fellow, and Norman might not strike Norman, nor Frenchman kill his countryman by mistake. Those on foot led the way, with serried ranks, bearing their bows. The knights rode next, supporting the archers from behind. Thus both horse and foot kept their course and order of march as they began, in close ranks at a gentle pace, that the one might not pass or separate from the other. All went firmly and compactly, bearing themselves gallantly.

"Harold had summoned his men, earls, barons, and vavasors, from the castles and the cities, from the ports, the villages and boroughs. The peasants were also called together from the villages, bearing such arms as they found; clubs and great picks, iron forks and stakes. The English had enclosed the place where Harold was with his friends and the barons of the country whom he had summoned and called together.

"Those of London had come at once, and those of Kent, of Hertfort, and of Essesse; those of Surée and Susesse, of St. Edmund and Sufoc; of Norwis and Norfoc; of Cantorbierre and Stanfort, Bedefort and Hundetone. The men of Northanton also came; and those of Eurowic and Bokinkeham, of Bed and Notinkeham, Lindesie and Nichole. There came also from the west all who heard the summons; and very many were to be seen coming from Salebiere and Dorset, from Bat and from Sumerset. Many came, too, from about Glocestre, and many from Wirecestre, from Wincestre, Hontesire and Brichesire; and many more from other counties that we have not named, and cannot, indeed, recount. All who could bear arms, and had learned the news of the Duke's arrival, came to defend the land. But none came from beyond Humbre, for they had other business upon their hands, the Danes and Tosti having much damaged and weakened them.

"Harold knew that the Normans would come and attack him hand to hand, so he had early enclosed the field in which he had placed his men. He made them arm early and range themselves for the battle, he himself having put on arms and equipments that became such a lord. The Duke, he said, ought to seek him, as he wanted to conquer England; and it became him to abide the attack who had to defend the land. He commanded the people, and counselled his barons to keep themselves all together and defend themselves in a body, for if they once separated, they would with difficulty recover themselves. 'The Normans,' said he, 'are good vassals, valiant on foot and on horseback; good knights are they on horseback and well used to battle; all is lost if they once penetrate our ranks. They have brought long lances and swords, but you have pointed lances and keen-edged bills; and I do not expect that their arms can stand against yours. Cleave whenever you can; it will be ill done if you spare aught.'

"The English had built up a fence before them with their shields and with ash and other wood, and had well joined and wattled in the 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 dishonor, either by hatchet or bill, by club or other weapon.

"They wore short and close hauberks, and helmets that hung over their garments. King Harold issued orders, and made proclamation round, that all should be ranged with their faces toward the enemy, and that no one should move from where he was, so that whoever came might find them ready; and that whatever anyone, be he Norman or other, should do, each should do his best to defend his own place. Then 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.

"When Harold had made all ready, and given his orders, he came into the midst of the English and dismounted by the side of the standard; Leofwine and Gurth, his brothers, were with him; and around him he had barons enough, as he stood by his standard, which was, in truth, a noble one, sparkling with gold and precious stones. After the victory William sent it to the Pope, to prove and commemorate his great conquest and glory. The English stood in close ranks, ready and eager for the fight; and they, moreover, made a fosse, which went across the field, guarding one side of their army.

"Meanwhile the Normans appeared advancing over the ridge of a rising ground, and the first division of their troops moved onward along the hill and across a valley. And presently another division, still larger, came in sight, close following upon the first, and they were led toward another part of the field, forming together as the first body had done. And while Harold saw and examined them, and was pointing them out to Gurth, a fresh company came in sight, covering all the plain; and in the midst of them was raised the standard that came from Rome.

"Near it was the Duke, and the best men and greatest strength of the army were there. The good knights, the good vassals, and brave warriors were there; and there were gathered together the gentle barons, the good archers, and the men-at-arms, whose duty it was to guard the Duke, and range themselves around him. The youths and common herd of the camp, whose business was not to join in the battle, but to take care of the harness and stores, moved off toward a rising ground. The priests and the clerks also ascended a hill, there to offer up prayers to God, and watch the event of the battle.

"The English stood firm on foot in close ranks, and carried themselves right boldly. Each man had his 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.

"The Normans brought on the three divisions of their army to attack at different places. They set out in three companies, and in three companies did they fight. The first and second had come up, and then advanced the third, which was the greatest; with that came the Duke with his own men, and all moved boldly forward.

"As soon as the two armies were in full view of each other, great noise and tumult arose. You might hear the sound of many trumpets, of bugles, and of horns; and then you might see men ranging themselves in line, lifting their shields, raising their lances, bending their bows, handling their arrows, ready for assault and defence.

"The English stood steady to their post, the Normans still moved on; and when they drew near, the English were to be seen stirring to and fro; were going and coming; troops ranging themselves in order; some with their color rising, others turning pale; some making ready their arms, others raising their shields; the brave man rousing himself to fight, the coward trembling at the approach of danger.

"Then Taillefer, who sang right well, rode, mounted on a swift horse, before the Duke, singing of Charlemagne and of Roland, of Oliver, and the peers who died in Roncesvalles. And when they drew nigh to the English,

"'A boon, sire!' cried Taillefer; 'I have long served you, and you owe me for all such service. To-day, so please you, you shall repay it. I ask as my guerdon, and beseech you for it earnestly, that you will allow me to strike the first blow in the battle!' And the Duke answered, 'I grant it.'

"Then Taillefer put his horse to a gallop, charging before all the rest, and struck an Englishman dead, driving his lance below the breast into his body, and stretching him upon the ground. Then he drew his sword, and struck another, crying out, 'Come on, come on! What do ye, sirs? lay on, lay on!' At the second blow he struck the English pushed forward, and surrounded, and slew him. Forthwith arose the noise and cry of war, and on either side the people put themselves in motion.

"The Normans moved on to the assault, and the English defended themselves well. Some were striking, others urging onward; all were bold and cast aside fear. And now, behold, that battle was gathered whereof the fame is yet mighty.

"Loud and far resounded the bray of the horns and the shocks of the lances, the mighty strokes of maces and the quick clashing of swords. One while the Englishmen rushed on, another while they fell back; one while the men from over sea charged onward, and again at other times retreated. The Normans shouted, '_Dex Aie_,' the English people, 'Out.' Then came the cunning manoeuvres, the rude shocks and strokes of the lance and blows of the swords, 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.

"Some wax strong, others weak: the brave exult, but the cowards tremble, as men who are sore dismayed. The Normans press on the assault, and the English defend their post well; they pierce the hauberks and cleave the shields, receive and return mighty blows. Again, some press forward, others yield; and thus, in various ways, the struggle proceeds. In the plain was a fosse, which the Normans had now 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 others, 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 those said who saw the dead.

"The varlets who were set to guard the harness began to abandon it as they saw the loss of the Frenchmen when thrown back upon the fosse without power to recover themselves. Being greatly alarmed at seeing the difficulty in restoring order, they began to quit the harness, and sought around, not knowing where to find shelter. Then Duke William's brother, Odo, the good priest, the Bishop of Bayeux, galloped up and said to them: 'Stand fast! stand fast! be quiet and move not! fear nothing; for, if God please, we shall conquer yet.' So they took courage and rested where they were; and Odo returned galloping back to where the battle was most fierce, and was of great service on that day. He had put a hauberk on over a white aube, wide in the body, with the sleeve tight, and sat on a white horse, so that all might recognize him. In his hand he held a mace, and wherever he saw most need he held up and stationed the knights, and often urged them on to assault and strike the enemy.

"From nine o'clock in the morning, when the combat began, till three o'clock came, the battle was up and down, this way and that, and no one knew who would conquer and win the land. Both sides stood so firm and fought so well that no one could guess which would prevail. The Norman archers with their bows shot thickly upon the English; but they covered themselves with their shields, so that the arrows could not reach their bodies nor do any mischief, how true so ever was their aim or however well they shot. Then the Normans determined to shoot their arrows upward into the air, so that they might fall on their enemies' heads and strike their faces. The archers adopted this scheme and shot up into the air toward the English; and the arrows, in falling, struck their heads and faces and put out the eyes of many; and all feared to open their eyes or leave their faces unguarded.

"The arrows now flew thicker than rain before the wind; fast sped the shafts that the English call 'wibetes.' Then it was that an arrow, that had been thus shot upward, struck Harold above his right eye, and put it out. In his agony he drew the arrow and threw it away, breaking it with his hands; and the pain to his head was so great that he leaned upon his shield. So the English were wont to say, and still say to the French, that the arrow was well shot which was so sent up against their King, and that the archer won them great glory who thus put out Harold's eye.

"The Normans saw that the English defended themselves well, and were so strong in their position that they could do little against them. So they consulted together privily, and arranged to draw off, and pretend to flee, till the English should pursue and scatter themselves over the field; for they saw that if they could once get their enemies to break their ranks, they might be attacked and discomfited much more easily. As they had said, so they did. The Normans by little and little fled, the English following them. As the one fell back, the other pressed after; and when the Frenchmen retreated, the English thought and cried out that the men of France fled and would never return.

"Thus they were deceived by the pretended flight, and great mischief thereby befell them; for if they had not moved from their position, it is not likely that they would have been conquered at all; but, like fools, they broke their lines and pursued.

"The Normans were to be seen following up their stratagem, retreating slowly so as to draw the English farther on. As they still flee, the English pursue; they push out their lances and stretch forth their hatchets, following the Normans as they go, rejoicing in the success of their scheme, and scattering themselves over the plain. And the English meantime jeered and insulted their foes with words. 'Cowards,' they cried, 'you came hither in an evil hour, wanting our lands and seeking to seize our property; fools that ye were to come! Normandy is too far off, and you will not easily reach it. It is of little use to run back; unless you can cross the sea at a leap or can drink it dry, your sons and daughters are lost to you.'

"The Normans bore it all; but, in fact, they knew not what the English said: their language seemed like the baying of dogs, which they could not understand. At length they stopped and turned round, determined to recover their ranks; and the barons might be heard crying, '_Dex Aie_!' for a halt. Then the Normans resumed their former position, turning their faces toward the enemy; and their men were to be seen facing round and rushing onward to a fresh _mêlée_, the one party assaulting the other; this man striking, another pressing onward. One hits, another misses; one flies, another pursues; one is aiming a stroke, while another discharges his blow. Norman strives with Englishman again, and aims his blows afresh. One flies, another pursues swiftly: the combatants are many, the plain wide, the battle and the _mêlée_ fierce. On every hand they fight hard, the blows are heavy, and the struggle becomes fierce.

"The Normans were playing their part well, when an English knight came rushing up, having in his company a hundred men furnished with various arms. He wielded a northern hatchet with the blade a full foot long, and was well armed after his manner, being tall, bold, and of noble carriage. In the front of the battle, where the Normans thronged most, he came bounding on swifter than the stag, many Normans falling before him and his company.

"He rushed straight upon a Norman who was armed and riding on a war-horse, and tried with his hatchet of steel to cleave his helmet; but the blow miscarried, and the sharp blade glanced down before the saddle-bow, driving through the horse's neck down to the ground, so that both horse and master fell together to the earth. I know not whether the Englishman struck another blow; but the Normans who saw the stroke were astonished and about to abandon the assault, when Roger de Montgomeri came galloping up, with his lance set, and, heeding not the long-handled axe which the Englishman wielded aloft, struck him down and left him stretched on the ground. Then Roger cried out, 'Frenchmen, strike! the day is ours!' And again a fierce _mêlée_ was to be seen, with many a blow of lance and sword; the English still defending themselves, killing the horses and cleaving the shields.

"There was a French soldier of noble mien who sat his horse gallantly. He spied two Englishmen who were also carrying themselves boldly. They were both men of great worth and had become companions in arms and fought together, the one protecting the other. They bore two long and broad bills and did great mischief to the Normans, killing both horses and men.

"The French soldier looked at them and their bills and was sore alarmed, for he was afraid of losing his good horse, the best that he had, and would willingly have turned to some other quarter if it would not have looked like cowardice. He soon, however, recovered his courage, and, spurring his horse, gave him the bridle and galloped swiftly forward. Fearing the two bills, he raised his shield, and struck one of the Englishmen with his lance on the breast, so that the iron passed out at his back. At the moment that he fell the lance broke, and the Frenchman seized the mace that hung at his right side, and struck the other Englishman a blow that completely fractured his skull.

"On the other side was an Englishman who much annoyed the French, continually assaulting them with a keen-edged hatchet. He had a helmet made of wood, which he had fastened down to his coat and laced round his neck, so that no blows could reach his head. The ravage he was making was seen by a gallant Norman knight, who rode a horse that neither fire nor water could stop in its career when its master urged it on. The knight spurred, and his horse carried him on well till he charged the Englishman, striking him over the helmet so that it fell down over his eyes; and as he stretched out his hand to raise it and uncover his face, the Norman cut off his right hand, so that his hatchet fell to the ground. Another Norman sprang forward and eagerly seized the prize with both his hands, but he kept it little space and paid dearly for it, for as he stooped to pick up the hatchet an Englishman with his long-handled axe struck him over the back, breaking all his bones, so that his entrails and lungs gushed forth. The knight of the good horse meantime returned without injury; but on his way he met another Englishman and bore him down under his horse, wounding him grievously and trampling him altogether under foot.

"And now might be heard the loud clang and cry of battle and the clashing of lances. The English stood firm in their barricades, and shivered the lances, beating them into pieces with their bills and maces. The Normans drew their swords and hewed down the barricades, and the English, in great trouble, fell back upon their standard, where were collected the maimed and wounded.

"There were many knights of Chauz who jousted and made attacks. The English knew not how to joust, or bear arms on horseback, but fought with hatchets and bills. A man, when he wanted to strike with one of their hatchets, was obliged to hold it with both his hands, and could not at the same time, as it seems to me, both cover himself and strike with any freedom.

"The English fell back toward the standard, which was upon a rising ground, and the Normans followed them across the valley, attacking them on foot and horseback. Then Hue de Mortemer, with the Sires D'Auviler, D'Onebac, and St. Cler, rode up and charged, overthrowing many.

"Robert Fitz Erneis fixed his lance, took his shield, and, galloping toward the standard, with his keen-edged sword struck an Englishman who was in front, killed him, and then drawing back his sword, attacked many others, and pushed straight for the standard, trying to beat it down; but the English surrounded it and killed him with their bills. He was found on the spot, when they afterward sought for him, dead and lying at the standard's foot.

"Duke William pressed close upon the English with his lance, striving hard to reach the standard with the great troop he led, and seeking earnestly for Harold, on whose account the whole war was. The Normans follow their lord, and press around him; they ply their blows upon the English, and these defend themselves stoutly, striving hard with their enemies, returning blow for blow.

"One of them was a man of great strength, a wrestler, who did great mischief to the Normans with his hatchet; all feared him, for he struck down a great many Normans. The Duke spurred on his horse, and aimed a blow at him, but he stooped, and so escaped the stroke; then jumping on one side, he lifted his hatchet aloft, and as the Duke bent to avoid the blow, the Englishman boldly struck him on the head and beat in his helmet, though without doing much injury. He was very near falling, however; but, bearing on his stirrups, he recovered himself immediately; and when he thought to have revenged himself upon the churl by killing him, he had escaped, dreading the Duke's blow. He ran back in among the English, but he was not safe even there; for the Normans, seeing him, pursued and caught him, and having pierced him through and through with their lances, left him dead on the ground.

"Where the throng of the battle was greatest, the men of Kent and Essex fought wondrously well, and made the Normans again retreat, but without doing them much injury. And when the Duke saw his men fall back and the English triumphing over them, his spirit rose high, and he seized his shield and his lance, which a vassal handed to him, and took his post by his standard.

"Then those who kept close guard by him and rode where he rode, being about a thousand armed men, came and rushed with closed ranks upon the English, and, with the weight of their good horses, and the blows the knights gave, broke the press of the enemy, and scattered the crowd before them, the good Duke leading them on in front. Many pursued and many fled; many were the Englishmen who fell around, and were trampled under the horses, crawling upon the earth, and not able to rise. Many of the richest and noblest men fell in the rout, but still the English rallied in places, smote down those whom they reached, and maintained the combat the best they could, beating down the men and killing the horses. One Englishman watched the Duke, and plotted to kill him; he would have struck him with his lance, but he could not, for the Duke struck him first, and felled him to the earth.

"Loud was now the clamor and great the slaughter; many a soul then quitted the body it inhabited. The living marched over the heaps of dead, and each side was weary of striking. He charged on who could, and he who could no longer strike still pushed forward. The strong struggled with the strong; some failed, others triumphed; the cowards fell back, the brave pressed on; and sad was his fate who fell in the midst, for he had little chance of rising again; and many in truth fell who never rose at all, being crushed under the throng.

"And now the Normans had pressed on so far that at last they had reached the standard. There Harold had remained, defending himself to the utmost; but he was sorely wounded in his eye by the arrow, and suffered grievous pain from the blow. An armed man came in the throng of the battle, and struck him on the ventail of his helmet, and beat him to the ground; and as he sought to recover himself a knight beat him down again, striking him on the thick of his thigh, down to the bone.

"Gurth saw the English falling around, and that there was no remedy. He saw his race hastening to ruin, and despaired of any aid; he would have fled, but could not, for the throng continually increased. And the Duke pushed on till he reached him, and struck him with great force. Whether he died of that blow I know not, but it was said that he fell under it and rose no more.

"The standard was beaten down, the golden standard was taken, and Harold and the rest of his friends were slain; but there was so much eagerness, and throng of so many around, seeking to kill him, that I know not who it was that slew him.

"The English were in great trouble at having lost their King and at the Duke's having conquered and beat down the standard; but they still fought on, and defended themselves long, and in fact till the day drew to a close. Then it clearly appeared to all that the standard was lost, and the news had spread throughout the army that Harold, for certain, was dead; and all saw that there was no longer any hope, so they left the field, and those fled who could.

"William fought well; many an assault did he lead, many a blow did he give, and many receive, and many fell dead under his hand. Two horses were killed under him, and he took a third when necessary, so that he fell not to the ground and lost not a drop of blood. But whatever anyone did, and whoever lived or died, this is certain that William conquered and that many of the English fled from the field, and many died on the spot. Then he returned thanks to God, and in his pride ordered his standard to be brought and set up on high, where the English standard had stood; and that was the signal of his having conquered, and beaten down the standard. And he ordered his tent to be raised on the spot among the dead, and had his meat brought thither, and his supper prepared there.

"Then he took off his armor; and the barons and knights, pages and squires came, when he had unstrung his shield; and they took the helmet from his head and the hauberk from his back, and saw the heavy blows upon his shield and how his helmet was dinted in. And all greatly wondered and said: 'Such a baron (_ber_) never bestrode war-horse nor dealt such blows nor did such feats of arms; neither has there been on earth such a knight since Rollant and Oliver.'

"Thus they lauded and extolled him greatly and rejoiced in what they saw, but grieving also for their friends who were slain in the battle. And the Duke stood meanwhile among them, of noble stature and mien, and rendered thanks to the King of Glory, through whom he had the victory, and thanked the knights around him, mourning also frequently for the dead. And he ate and drank among the dead, and made his bed that night upon the field.

"The morrow was Sunday; and those who had slept upon the field of battle, keeping watch around and suffering great fatigue, bestirred themselves at break of day and sought out and buried such of the bodies of their dead friends as they might find. The noble ladies of the land also came, some to seek their husbands, and others their fathers, sons, or brothers. They bore the bodies to their villages and interred them at the churches; and the clerks and priests of the country were ready, and at the request of their friends took the bodies that were found, and prepared graves and lay them therein.

"King Harold was carried and buried at Varham; but I know not who it was that bore him thither, neither do I know who buried him. Many remained on the field, and many had fled in the night."

Such is a Norman account of the battle of Hastings, which does full justice to the valor of the Saxons as well as to the skill and bravery of the victors. It is indeed evident that the loss of the battle by the English was owing to the wound which Harold received in the afternoon, and which must have incapacitated him from effective command. When we remember that he had himself just won the battle of Stamford Bridge over Harald Hardrada by the manoeuvre of a feigned flight, it is impossible to suppose that he could be deceived by the same stratagem on the part of the Normans at Hastings. But his men, when deprived of his control, would very naturally be led by their inconsiderate ardor into the pursuit that proved so fatal to them. All the narratives of the battle, however much they vary as to the precise time and manner of Harold's fall, eulogize the generalship and the personal prowess which he displayed until the fatal arrow struck him. The skill with which he had posted his army was proved both by the slaughter which it cost the Normans to force the position, and also by the desperate rally which some of the Saxons made after the battle in the forest in the rear, in which they cut off a large number of the pursuing Normans. This circumstance is particularly mentioned by William of Poictiers, the Conqueror's own chaplain. Indeed, if Harold or either of his brothers had survived, the remains of the English army might have formed again in the wood, and could at least have effected an orderly retreat and prolonged the war. But both Gurth and Leofwine, and all the bravest thanes of Southern England, lay dead on Senlac, around their fallen King and the fallen standard of their country. The exact number that perished on the Saxons' side is unknown; but we read that, on the side of the victors, out of sixty thousand men who had been engaged, no less than a fourth perished; so well had the English billmen "plyed the ghastly blow," and so sternly had the Saxon battle-axe cloven Norman's casque and mail. The old historian Daniel justly as well as forcibly remarks: "Thus was tried, by the great assize of God's judgment in battle, the right of power between the English and Norman nations; a battle the most memorable of all others, and, however miserably lost, yet most nobly fought on the part of England."

Many a pathetic legend was told in after years respecting the discovery and the burial of the corpse of our last Saxon King. The main circumstances, though they seem to vary, are perhaps reconcilable. Two of the monks of Waltham Abbey, which Harold had founded a little time before his election to the throne, had accompanied him to the battle. On the morning after the slaughter they begged and gained permission of the Conqueror to search for the body of their benefactor. The Norman soldiery and camp followers had stripped and gashed the slain, and the two monks vainly strove to recognize from among the mutilated and gory heaps around them the features of their former King. They sent for Harold's mistress, Edith, surnamed "the Fair," and "the Swan-necked," to aid them. The eye of love proved keener than the eye of gratitude, and the Saxon lady even in that Aceldama knew her Harold.

The King's mother now sought the victorious Norman, and begged the dead body of her son. But William at first answered, in his wrath and the hardness of his heart, that a man who had been false to his word and his religion should have no other sepulchre than the sand of the shore. He added, with a sneer: "Harold mounted guard on the coast while he was alive; he may continue his guard now he is dead." The taunt was an unintentional eulogy; and a grave washed by the spray of the Sussex waves would have been the noblest burial-place for the martyr of Saxon freedom. But Harold's mother was urgent in her lamentations and her prayers; the Conqueror relented: like Achilles, he gave up the dead body of his fallen foe to a parent's supplications, and the remains of King Harold were deposited with regal honors in Waltham Abbey.

On Christmas Day in the same year William the Conqueror was crowned, at London, King of England.

TRIUMPHS OF HILDEBRAND

"THE TURNING-POINT OF THE MIDDLE AGES:"

HENRY IV BEGS FOR MERCY AT CANOSSA

A.D. 1073-1085

ARTHUR R. PENNINGTON

ARTAUD DE MONTOR

(If during the pontificate of Innocent III [1198-1216] the papal power attained its greatest height, yet under one of his predecessors the chair of St. Peter became a throne of almost absolute supremacy. This mighty pontiff, Gregory VII, whose real name, Hildebrand, indicates his German descent, was born--the son of a carpenter--in Tuscany, about 1020. He became a monk of the Benedictine order, and was educated at the abbey of Cluny in France. In 1044 he went to Rome, called by a papal election, and there saw abuses which from that moment he fixed his mind upon striving to abolish. In 1048 he was again in Rome and soon rose to the rank of cardinal.

For many years Hildebrand was the real director of papal policy, and long before his election as pope, in 1073, he worked to accomplish the reforms that distinguish his pontificate, which continued till his death, in 1085.

As a part of the Holy Roman Empire, Italy held a dual relation to the emperor and the pope. Between the Roman pontiffs and the secular heads of the Empire the struggle for supremacy had been long and often bitter. At the time of Hildebrand's active appearance the papacy was in a state of degradation which demoralized the Church itself.

Long before his elevation to the papal chair Hildebrand's efforts had met with much success, and the power of the holy see was gradually increased. Independently of the Emperor, whose will had hitherto governed the papal elections, in 1058--chiefly through the influence of Hildebrand--Pope Nicholas II was chosen by a new method, and from that time the choice of popes has been made by the sacred college of cardinals.

Hildebrand reluctantly accepted the office of pope; but having entered upon the task which he knew to be so formidable, he pursued it with such energy, courage, and success as to make his pontificate one of the most memorable in the annals of the Church. Of his greatest contests within the ecclesiastical jurisdiction--over the celibacy of the clergy and simony--as well as of those with the Imperial power represented by Henry IV--the "War of Investitures"--the following account will be found to present the essential features with a clearness and comprehensiveness which are seldom seen in the relation of matter so complex and in a narrative so concise. The differing viewpoints are also instructive, as presented by Pennington of the Church of England, and Artaud, the standard Roman Catholic authority.)

ARTHUR R. PENNINGTON

The time had come when Hildebrand was to receive the reward of the important services which he had rendered to the holy see. He had been the ruling spirit under five popes--Leo, Victor, Stephen, Nicholas, and Alexander--four of whom were indebted to him for their election. But now he must himself be raised to the papal throne.

The clergy were assembled in the Lateran Church to celebrate the obsequies of Alexander. Hildebrand, as archdeacon, was performing the service. Suddenly, in the midst of the requiem for the departed, a shout was heard which seemed to come as if by inspiration from the assembled multitude: "Hildebrand is Pope! St. Peter chooses the archdeacon Hildebrand!"

From the funeral procession Hildebrand flew to the pulpit, and with impassioned gestures seemed to be imploring silence. The storm, however, did not cease till one of the cardinals, in the name of the sacred college, declared that they had unanimously elected him whom the people had chosen. Arrayed in scarlet robes, crowned with the papal tiara, Gregory VII ascended the chair of St. Peter.

The Pope very soon made known the course which he should pursue. He issued a prohibition against the marriage of the clergy, and in a council at Rome abolished the right of investiture.[27] He was determined to redress the wrongs of society. He had seen oppression laying waste the fairest provinces of Europe, he had seen many princes, goaded on by the revengeful passions of their nature, flinging wide their standard to the winds, and dipping their hands in the blood of those who, if Christianity be not a fable, were their very brothers. A magnificent vision rose up before him. He would rule the world by religion; he would be the caesar of the spiritual monarchy. He and a council of prelates, annually assembled at Rome, would constitute a tribunal from whose judgment there should be no appeal, empowered to hold the supreme mediation in matters relating to the interests of the body politic, to settle contested successions to kingdoms; and to compel men to cease from their dissensions.

[Footnote 27: That is, the right of the civil power to grant church offices at will, and to invest ecclesiastics with symbols of their offices and receive their oaths of fealty.]

The civil power was to pledge itself to be prompt in the execution of their decrees against those who despised their authority. But if the decisions of those judges were to carry weight, they must be men of unblemished integrity. The purity of their ermine must be altogether unsullied. The sale of the highest spiritual offices by the prince, who had deprived the clergy and people of their right to elect them, which had stained the hands of the Church and undermined its power, must be altogether forbidden. Elections must be free. The custom of investiture by sovereigns with the ring and crozier, which had rendered the hierarchy and clergy the creatures of their will, must be forbidden.

The clergy must possess an absolute exemption from the criminal justice of the state. They must recognize but one ruler, the pope, who disposed of them indirectly through the bishops or directly in cases of exemption, and used them as tools for the execution of his behests. In fact, they were to constitute a vast army, exclusively devoted to the service of an ecclesiastical monarch.

They must be unconnected by marriage with the world around them, that they might be bound more closely to one another and to their head; that they might be saved from the temptation of restless projects for the advancement of their families, which have caused so much scandal in the world; and that they might give an exalted idea of their sanctity, inasmuch as, in order that they might give themselves to prayer and the ministry of the Word, they would forego that connubial bliss, the portion of those,

"The happiest of their kind,
Whom gentler stars unite and in one fate Their hearts, their fortunes,
and their beings blend."

The marriage of the clergy was everywhere more or less repugnant to the general feeling of Christendom. The rise and progress of asceticism in the Church had their source in human nature, and its growth was quickened by a reaction from the immorality of paganism. The general effect on the position of the clergy was to compel them to keep progress with the prevailing movement. Men consecrated to the service of Jehovah must rise superior to the common herd of their fellow-creatures.

By a decree of Pope Siricius at the end of the fourth century marriage was interdicted to all priests and deacons. This decree was, however, very imperfectly observed during the following centuries. The general feeling was, however, at this time very strongly against the married clergy. But throughout the spiritual realm of Hildebrand in Italy, from Calabria to the Alps, the clergy had risen up in rebellion against him and the popes his predecessors when they attempted to coerce them into celibacy. We believe that this opposition, much more than the strife as to investitures, was the cause of the strong feeling, almost unprecedented, which existed against Gregory VII.

We must now show that Gregory enforced his views as to investitures. This part of our subject is important, because it gave occasion for the assertion that the pope could depose the Holy Roman emperor and the king of Italy, if he should find him morally or physically disqualified for fulfilling the condition on which his appointment depended--that he should defend him from his enemies. Henry IV, at the beginning of his reign only ten years of age, was at this time Emperor.[28]

[Footnote 28: That is, Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire, which included the German-speaking people of Europe, and also, in theory at least, Italy.]

One day, as he was standing by the Rhine, a galley with silken streamers appeared, into which he was invited to enter. After he had been gliding for some time down the stream, he found that he was a prisoner. The archbishops of Milan and Cologne, with other powerful lords, having consigned him to a degrading captivity, administered, in his name, the government of the empire. By affording him every means of vicious indulgence, they were only too successful in corrupting a noble and generous nature. Very soon he was guilty of crimes, and plunged into excesses which seemed to cry aloud for vengeance.

The Pope saw that the time had come for the execution of his designs. Henry had been guilty of the grossest simony. The spiritual dignities had been openly sold to the highest bidder. He saw also that, while the clergy took the oath of fealty to the monarch and were invested by him with the ring and crozier, he could not establish the superiority of the spiritual to the temporal jurisdiction. He therefore summoned a council at the Lateran (1075), which issued a decree against lay investitures. The Pope, having thus declared war against the Emperor, proceeded to fill up certain vacant bishoprics, and to suspend bishops, both in Germany and Italy, who had been guilty of simony. He also cited Henry before him to answer for his simony, crimes, and excesses.

This citation is alleged to have given occasion for an attempted crime, supposed to have been sanctioned by Henry, which may show us that while the Pope was asserting a right to rule over the nations, he could not rule in his own city. On Christmas Eve, 1075, the city of Rome was visited with a violent tempest. Darkness brooded over the land. The inhabitants thought that the day of judgment was at hand. In the midst of this war of the elements two processions were seen advancing toward the Church of Santa Maria Maggiore. At the head of one of them was Hildebrand, leading his priests to worship at a shrine. At the head of the other was Cencius, a Roman noble. In one of the pauses in the roar of the tempest, when the Pope was heard blessing his flock, the arm of Cencius grasped his person, and the sword of a ruffian inflicted a wound on his forehead. Bound with cords, the Pope was removed to a mansion in the city, from which he was the next day to be removed to exile or to death. A sword was aimed at the Pontiff's bosom, when the cries of a fierce multitude, threatening to burn down the house, arrested the arm of the assassin. An arrow, discharged from below, reached and slew the latter. Cencius fell at the Pope's feet, a suppliant for pardon and for life. The Pontiff immediately pardoned him. Then, amid the acclamations of the Roman people, Gregory proceeded to complete the interrupted solemnities at Santa Maria Maggiore.

The war between Henry and the Pope continued. Henry summoned a synod at Worms in January, 1076, which decreed the deposition of the Pope. The envoy charged to convey this sentence appeared in the council chamber of the Lateran in February, before an assembly consisting of the mightiest in the land, whom the Pope had summoned to sit in judgment on Henry. With flashing eyes and in a voice of thunder he directed the Pope to descend from the chair of St. Peter. Cries of indignation rang through the hall, and a hundred swords were seen leaping from their scabbards to inflict vengeance on the daring intruder. The Pope, with difficulty, stilled the angry tumult. Then, rising with calm dignity, amid the breathless silence of the assembled multitude, he uttered that dread anathema which "shuts paradise and opens hell," and absolved the subjects of Henry from their allegiance.

The inhabitants of Europe were struck dumb with amazement when they witnessed this exercise of papal prerogative. They thought that the powerful arm of Henry would have been raised to smite down the audacious Hildebrand. The Pope, however, well knew that Henry had by his excesses alienated from himself the affections of his subjects. The sentence gave a pretext to many of his nobility to withdraw from their allegiance. Awed by spiritual terrors, his attendants fell away from him as if he had been smitten by a leprosy. An assembly was now summoned at Trebur, in obedience to a requisition from the Pope, at which it was decreed that, if the Emperor continued excommunicate on the 23d of February, 1077, his crown should be given to another. The theory of the Holy Roman Empire had thus become a practical reality. The vassal of Otho had reduced the successor of Otho to vassalage. A great pope had wrung from the superstition and reverence of mankind a spiritual empire, which, it was hoped, would extend its sway to earth's remotest boundaries.

ARTAUD DE MONTOR

Gregory made it an invariable rule to act at the outset with gentleness. "No one," says he, "reaches the highest rank at a single spring; great edifices rise gradually." Certain of his strength, he chose to employ conciliation. He especially sought to convince Henry, but the excesses in which that prince wallowed were so abominable that his subjects in all parts, and especially the great, revolted against him. In 1076, Gregory assembled a council, which pronounced the excommunication of the King, with all the terrible consequences attendant upon it.

History shows several emperors of the East excommunicated by preceding popes: Arcadius, by Innocent I; Anastasius, by Saint Symmachus; and Leo the Isaurian, by Gregory II and Gregory III.

The decree of the same council set forth that the throne vacated by Henry was adjudged to Rudolph, duke of Swabia, already created king of Germany by the electors of the empire.

Before the election of Rudolph, Gregory had declared that he would repair to Germany. King Henry, on his part, promised to come into Italy. The Pope left Rome with an escort furnished by the countess of Tuscany, daughter of Boniface, marquis of Tuscany. The march of Gregory was a triumph. Amidst that escort he reached Vercelli. It was feared by some that Henry would make his appearance at the head of an army, but he had not that intention. The Pope, nevertheless, deemed it best to retire into the fortress of Canossa, belonging to the Countess Matilda, in order that he might be secure from all violence.

Henry had spent nearly two months at Spires in a profound and melancholy solitude. The weight of the excommunication oppressed him with a thousand griefs. Weary of that state of uncertainty, and still, as ever, tricky and hypocritical, he conceived the idea of winning over the Pope by an apparent piety, and of satisfying his requirements by a brief humiliation; moreover, the decree of excommunication declared that it should be withdrawn if the King appeared before the Pope within a year from the date of the decree. The winter was severe. After running a thousand dangers, the King and his queen arrived at Turin, and proceeded to Placentia. Thence the prince announced that he would proceed to Canossa, by way of Reggio.

The Countess Matilda met him with Hugo, Bishop of Cluny. She wished to restore harmony between the Pope and the King. Gregory seemed to desire that Henry should return to Augsburg, to be judged by the Diet. The envoys of the King at Canossa replied: "Henry does not fear being judged; he knows that the Pope will protect innocence and justice; but the anniversary of the excommunication is at hand, and if the excommunication be not removed, the King, _according to the laws of the land_, will lose his right to the crown. The prince humbly requests the Holy Father to raise the interdict, and to restore him to the communion of the Church. He is ready to give every satisfaction that the Pope shall require; to present himself at such place and at such time as the Pope shall order; to meet his accusers, and to commit himself entirely to the decision of the head of the Church."