[i]

HARVARD HISTORICAL STUDIES

PUBLISHED UNDER THE DIRECTION OF
THE DEPARTMENT OF HISTORY

FROM THE INCOME OF

THE HENRY WARREN TORREY FUND

VOLUME XXV

[ii]

[iii]

[iv]

ROBERT CURTHOSE
DUKE OF NORMANDY

BY
CHARLES WENDELL DAVID

ASSOCIATE PROFESSOR OF EUROPEAN HISTORY
IN BRYN MAWR COLLEGE

CAMBRIDGE
HARVARD UNIVERSITY PRESS
LONDON: HUMPHREY MILFORD
Oxford University Press
1920

[v]

COPYRIGHT, 1920
HARVARD UNIVERSITY PRESS

[vi]

TO
MY WIFE

[vii]

Robert Curthose, eldest son of William the Conqueror, had been dead but a few years when Abbot Suger set about rebuilding the great abbey church of Saint-Denis, which was dedicated with such pomp and ceremony in 1144. Among the scenes from the First Crusade which filled one of its famous stained-glass windows, there was one which portrayed Robert, mounted upon his charger, in the act of overthrowing a pagan warrior—“Robertus dux Normannorum Partum prosternit,” ran the inscription beneath it.[1] It was thus, as a hero of the Crusade, that the great Abbot Suger chose to recall him, and it was as such that his fame survived in after times. Robert was not a masterful character, and it cannot be said that as a ruler he made a deep impression upon his generation. Overshadowed by his great father, cheated of a kingdom by his more aggressive brothers, and finally defeated in battle, deprived of his duchy, and condemned to perpetual imprisonment, his misdirected life offers a melancholy contrast to the more brilliant careers of the abler members of his family. Yet, if he was himself lacking in greatness, he was closely associated with great names and great events; and his unmeasured generosity and irrepressible bonhomie gained him many friends in his lifetime, and made him a personality which is not without its attractions to the modern. It is hoped that a study of his career which attempts to set him in his true relation to the history of Normandy and England and of the Crusade may be of interest not only to the specialist but to the general reader.

It is now more than a generation since Gaston Le Hardy published Le dernier des ducs normands: étude de critique historique sur Robert Courte-Heuse (1882), the only monograph upon Robert which has hitherto appeared. In spite of its age, if this were the critical study which its title implies, the present essay need hardly[viii] have been undertaken. But it makes no use of documentary materials, and is unfortunately a work of violent parti pris, quite lacking in criticism according to modern standards. “J’ ai entrepris,” says the author in his preface, “à l’aide de quelques autres chroniqueurs, une lutte contre notre vieil Orderic Vital, essayant de lui arracher par lambeaux la vérité vraie sur un personnage dont il ne nous a donné que la caricature.” It may be granted that Ordericus Vitalis was a hostile critic, who sometimes did Robert scanty justice; but assuredly there is no occasion for polemics or for an apologia such as Le Hardy has given us, and I have no intention of following in his footsteps. My purpose is a more modest one, namely to set forth a full and true account of the life and character of Robert Curthose upon the basis of an independent and critical examination of all the sources. To any one acquainted with the state of the materials on which the investigator must perforce depend for any study of the late eleventh and early twelfth centuries, it will not be surprising that there are many gaps in our information concerning Robert’s life and many problems which must remain unsolved. I have tried at all times to make my own researches and to draw my own conclusions directly from the sources when the evidence permitted, and to refrain from drawing conclusions when it seemed inadequate. But my indebtedness to the secondary writers who have preceded me in the field is abundantly apparent in the index and in the footnotes, where full acknowledgments are made. The works of E. A. Freeman upon the Norman Conquest and upon the reign of William Rufus have proved especially helpful for Robert’s life as a whole, as have also various more recent monographs which bear upon his career at certain points. Among these are the works of Louis Halphen upon the county of Anjou, of Robert Latouche upon Maine, and of Augustin Fliche upon the reign of Philip I of France. For the chapter on the Crusade much use has been made of the detailed chronology of Heinrich Hagenmeyer and of the exhaustive notes in his well known editions of the sources for the First Crusade, as well as of the admirable monograph by Ferdinand Chalandon upon the reign of the Emperor Alexius I. The appendix De Iniusta Vexatione Willelmi Episcopi Primi has[ix] already been published in the English Historical Review, and is here reproduced by the kind permission of the editor.

It is more than a pleasure to acknowledge my obligations to those whose counsel and assistance have been constantly at my disposal in the preparation of this volume. By the librarians and their staffs in the libraries of Harvard University, the University of California, the University of Pennsylvania, and Bryn Mawr College I have been treated with a courtesy and helpfulness which are beyond praise. Mr. George W. Robinson, Secretary of the Graduate School of Arts and Sciences of Harvard University, has given me much valuable assistance in preparing the manuscript for the press and in the correction of the proof. Finally, I have to acknowledge a debt of gratitude which is deeper than can well be expressed in writing, that which I owe to my teachers. It was Professor Dana C. Munro, now of Princeton University, who first taught me to care greatly for the Middle Ages and awakened my interest in the Crusades. He has followed this volume with kindly interest while it has been in the making, and has given me much helpful criticism upon that part which relates to the First Crusade. But above all I am indebted to Professor Charles H. Haskins of Harvard University, at whose suggestion this work was first undertaken and without whose help and counsel it could hardly have been brought to completion. While the author must accept full responsibility for the statements and conclusions herein contained, it is proper to say that the documentary materials which Professor Haskins had collected, as well as the results of his own researches, were placed at my disposal in manuscript before their publication in his recent volume entitled Norman Institutions, that separate chapters as they have been prepared have passed through his hands for detailed criticism, and that his unfailing patience has extended even to the reading of the proof sheets.

Charles Wendell David.

Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania, September, 1919.

[x]

[xi]

[xiv]

[1]

[2]

[3]

William of Malmesbury, in his well known sketch of the life and character of Robert Curthose,[1] relates an interesting episode. He tells us that Robert, in the heat of youth, and spurred on by the fatuous counsels of his companions, went to his father, William the Conqueror, and demanded that the rule of Normandy be forthwith given over into his hands. William not only refused the rash request, but drove the lad away with the thunders of his terrific voice; whereupon Robert withdrew in a rage and began to pillage the countryside. At first the Conqueror was only convulsed with laughter at these youthful escapades, and said, emphasizing his words with a favorite oath: “By the resurrection of God! This little Robert Curthose will be a brave fellow.”[2]

Robert Curthose or ‘Short-Boots’ (Curta Ocrea), this was the curious nickname which his father had given him on account of his diminutive stature.[3] The name seemed appropriate and was taken up by the people. In time, however, William of Malmesbury goes on to explain, Robert’s acts of insubordination became far more serious, and ended by provoking the Conqueror to a truly Norman burst of wrath, a curse, and disinheritance.[4] But all this is a matter which must be deferred for later consideration.

[4]

Whether the episode just recounted be fact or legend,[5] the chronicler in his hurried sketch has, in any event, drawn the picture of an undutiful, graceless son, often harassing his father with wild acts of insubordination. This, too, is the impression which is to be gathered from a cursory reading of Ordericus Vitalis, by far the most voluminous contemporary writer upon the life and character of Robert Curthose, and it is the impression which has been preserved in the histories of later times.[6] A more careful reading of the sources may, however, lead to a somewhat different view of the character of the Norman duke who forms the subject of the present essay. It must be owned at the outset, however, that the sources, especially for Robert’s youth, are exceedingly meagre and fragmentary, and only a few details can be pieced together.

The date of Robert’s birth is nowhere stated by contemporary writers. We know that he was the firstborn child of William the Bastard, duke of Normandy, and of his wife Matilda, daughter of Count Baldwin V of Flanders.[7] But the date of the marriage of William and Matilda is also a matter of much uncertainty. It has been generally assigned by modern writers, but without any early authority, to the year 1053.[8] It certainly took place after October 1049, for in that year we find Pope Leo IX and the council[5] of Rheims forbidding it as an act then in contemplation.[9] It certainly had been performed in defiance of ecclesiastical authority by 1053, the year in which Countess Matilda first appears beside her husband among the witnesses of extant legal documents.[10] So, too, Robert’s birth has been assigned by modern writers to circa 1054,[11] but this again is conjectural and rests upon no early authority. Our knowledge of Robert’s later career makes it seem improbable that he was born later than 1054 and suggests the possibility that he may have been born a little earlier.[12]

[6]

Though the evidence is meagre and fragmentary, it is clear that William and Matilda were by no means careless about the education of their eldest son and prospective heir. In an early charter we meet with a certain “Raherius consiliarius infantis” and a “Tetboldus gramaticus.”[13] And among the witnesses of a charter by the youthful Robert himself—the earliest that we have of his—dated at Rouen in 1066, appears one “Hilgerius pedagogus Roberti filii comitis.”[14] Not improbably this is the same Ilger who, in April of the following year, attested a charter by William the Conqueror at Vaudreuil.[15] Robert, therefore, had tutors, or ‘counsellors’, who were charged with his education, and who formed part of the ducal entourage and made their way into the documents of the period.

That these educational efforts were not wholly vain, there is some reason to believe. Robert has not, like his youngest brother, Henry, received the flattering title of Beauclerc, and there is no direct evidence that he knew Latin. Yet some notable accomplishments he did have. Not to mention his affable manners, he was famed for his fluency of speech, or ‘eloquence’, especially in his native tongue.[16] And if towards the close of his unfortunate life he became the author, as has been supposed, of an extant poem in the Welsh language,[17] it may perhaps be allowed that in his youth he had acquired at least a taste and capacity for things literary.[18]

[7]

The hopes of William and Matilda were early centred upon their oldest son, and his initiation into the politics of his ambitious father was not long delayed. As the result of a revolution at Le Mans, the youthful Count Herbert II with his mother and his sister Margaret had been driven into exile, and the direct rule of Geoffrey Martel, count of Anjou, had been established in Maine.[19] William of Normandy, ever jealous of Angevin expansion, was not slow to realize what his policy should be in the light of these events. By giving support to the exiles he might hope to curb the ambition of Geoffrey Martel and to extend Norman influence, conceivably Norman domination, over Maine. Accordingly, at an undetermined date between 1055 and 1060—probably between 1058 and 1060[20]—he entered into a treaty of far-reaching significance with the exiled count. Herbert formally became Duke William’s vassal for the county of Maine, and agreed that, if he should die childless, the duke should succeed him in all his rights and possessions. And further, a double marriage alliance was arranged, according to which William promised the count one of his infant daughters, and Robert Curthose was affianced to Herbert’s sister, Margaret of Maine.[21] Thus Robert,[8] while still a mere child, was made a pawn in the ambitious game which his father was playing for the possession of a coveted county. Margaret, too, was young; but the duke brought her to Normandy, and, placing her in the ward of Stigand de Mézidon, made due provision for her honorable rearing until the children should arrive at an age suitable for marriage.[22]

Meanwhile, fortune set strongly in Duke William’s favor in Maine. Charters indicate that Herbert had made at least a partial recovery of his authority in the county[23]—through the assistance, it may be presumed, of his powerful Norman overlord. On 9 March 1062[24] Count Herbert died childless, and under the terms of the recent treaty the county should have passed immediately into the hands of Duke William. But the Manceaux, or at least an Angevin or anti-Norman party among them, had no disposition to submit themselves to the ‘Norman yoke’; and within a year after Count Herbert’s death they rose in revolt.[25] They chose as Count Herbert’s successor Walter of Mantes, count of the Vexin, a bitter enemy of the Normans, who had a claim upon Maine through his wife Biota, a daughter of Herbert Éveille-Chien.[26] They also obtained the aid of Geoffrey le Barbu, who[9] had succeeded to the county of Anjou upon the death of Geoffrey Martel in 1060.[27] Thus they were able to offer formidable opposition to Norman aggression. But Duke William was determined not to let slip so good an opportunity of extending his dominion over Maine, and he took up the challenge with his accustomed vigor. A single campaign sufficed to accomplish his purpose. Walter of the Vexin and Biota, his wife, were taken and imprisoned at Falaise; and soon after they died—it is reported, as the result of poisoning.[28] The Manceaux were quickly defeated and reduced to submission, and Duke William entered Le Mans in triumph.[29]

With Geoffrey le Barbu, however, William decided to make terms. The provisions of the treaty which was concluded between them have not been preserved; but, in any case, it is clear that Duke William recognized the Angevin suzerainty over Maine.[30] Doubtless this seemed to him the most effective way of consolidating his conquest and throwing over it the mantle of legality by which he always set such great store.[31] At a formal ceremony in the duke’s presence at Alençon, Robert Curthose and Margaret of Maine, his fiancée, were made to do homage and swear fealty to Geoffrey le Barbu for the inheritance of Count Herbert.[32]

[10]

This feudal ceremony at Alençon gave formal legal sanction to Robert’s position as count of Maine. Yet he was still a mere child, and Duke William clearly had no intention of actually setting him to rule the newly acquired territory. He could have had no hand in the warfare by which it had been won, and to impose a foreign yoke upon the Manceaux in the face of the ardent spirit of local patriotism was a task for stronger hands than his. Robert’s countship, for the time being at any rate, remained a purely formal one, and Duke William with the assistance of Norman administrators and a Norman garrison kept the government of the county in his own hands.[33] Nevertheless, the new legal status to which the young prince had been raised found at least occasional recognition in the documents of the period. In several early charters we meet with his attestation as count of Maine,[34] and one document of the year 1076 indicates that at that time he was regarded as an independent ruler of the county.[35]

Meanwhile, if he had grown to feel any affection for his prospective bride, the beautiful Countess Margaret,[36] his hopes were[11] doomed to early disappointment; for, before either of the children had reached a marriageable age, Margaret died at Fécamp, and was buried there in the monastery of La Trinité.[37] This, however, did not mean that the Norman plans with regard to Maine had seriously miscarried. Duke William continued to maintain his hold upon the county; and Robert continued to be called count[38] and to be designated as his father’s heir and successor in the government.

Indeed, the assigning of the countship of Maine to Robert was but part of a general plan which embraced all of Duke William’s dominions, and under which Robert was early marked out as his successor designate for the whole. In a charter of 29 June 1063—contemporary, therefore, with the Norman conquest of Maine[39]—the young prince appears after his parents with the following significant designation: “Roberti, eorum filii, quem elegerant ad gubernandum regnum post suum obitum.”[40] Clearly at this early date Robert had already been definitely chosen as the successor to his father’s rule.

With Duke William still in the prime vigor of manhood, and menaced by no particular dangers, such a provision seemed to[12] have no great immediate importance. But with the death of Edward the Confessor and the inception of the ambitious plan for the Norman conquest of England, Duke William’s future took on a far more uncertain aspect. Great and careful though the preparations were, almost anything might happen in such an enterprise. It was a grave moment for men with Norman interests as the duke stood upon the threshold of his great adventure. The prudent abbot of Marmoutier hastened to obtain from the youthful Robert a confirmation of all the gifts which his father had made to the abbey.[41] Duke William, too, felt the uncertainties of the hour and made careful provision against all eventualities. Summoning the great nobles around him, he solemnly proclaimed Robert his heir and successor, and had the barons do homage and swear fealty to him as their lord.[42] Unless the sources are misleading, King Philip of France, Duke William’s overlord, was present and gave his consent to the action.[43]

Robert, however, was evidently still too young and inexperienced to be entrusted with the actual administration of the duchy at such a critical moment; and the government during the[13] duke’s absence on the Conquest was placed in the hands of Countess Matilda and a council of regents.[44] But when in December 1067, after the successful launching of his great enterprise, the Conqueror found it necessary to go a second time to England, Robert was called to higher honors and responsibilities, and was definitely associated with his mother in the regency.[45] From this same year he begins to appear in occasional charters as ‘count of the Normans’;[46] and when in the following year Matilda was called to England for her coronation, there is some reason to believe that he was charged with full responsibility for the administration of Normandy.[47]

Whether this implied a like responsibility for the government of Maine is not clear. If it did, Robert certainly proved unequal to the task of maintaining Norman dominion in that turbulent county. Norman rule had from the beginning been unpopular in[14] Maine. The citizens of Le Mans were alert and rebellious, and Duke William’s preoccupation with the conquest of England offered them a unique opportunity to strike a blow for independence. Accordingly, in 1069, they rose in revolt[48] and overthrew the Norman domination more quickly even than it had been established by Duke William in 1063. During the following three years Maine passed through a turbulent era, which—interesting as it is for both local and general history—hardly concerns the life of Robert Curthose; since, so far as can be discovered, no effort was made during that period to reëstablish Norman authority in the county. The collapse of the Norman rule had been as complete as it was sudden.

By the spring of 1073, however, King William had returned to the Continent and was in a position to turn his attention to the reconquest of Maine. Assembling a great army composed of both Normans and English, he marched into the county, reduced Fresnay, Beaumont, and Sillé in quick succession, and arrived before Le Mans, which surrendered without a siege.[49] The authority of the Conqueror, perhaps we may even say the authority of Robert Curthose,[50] was fully reëstablished. The sources are silent as to the part which Robert played in these events or in the struggles of the succeeding years by which the Conqueror maintained the Norman domination in the face of the[15] jealous opposition of Fulk le Réchin, count of Anjou.[51] Robert certainly continued to enjoy the formal dignity of count of Maine.[52] Indeed, a charter of 25 August 1076 seems to indicate that he was at that time regarded as an independent ruler at Le Mans.[53]

Meanwhile, the Conqueror took occasion to reaffirm his intentions regarding the succession to his dominions. At some time after the conquest of England but before the outbreak of his unfortunate quarrels with his eldest son, he fell dangerously sick at Bonneville; and, fearing for his life, he summoned the barons around him, as he had done previously upon the eve of the Norman Conquest, and had them renew their homage and pledge of fealty to Robert as their lord.[54] Again Robert Curthose was formally designated as the heir of all his father’s dominions.

If, therefore, one looks back upon Robert’s life from about the year 1077, far from feeling surprise at the slowness of his development or at the lateness of his initiation into political and government affairs, one must rather wonder at the early age at which he became a pawn in the great game of politics, war, and diplomacy which his father was playing so shrewdly, and at the rapidity with which at least minor responsibilities were thrust upon him. Affianced to the prospective heiress of the county of Maine when little more than an infant, he was designated as his father’s heir and successor while still a mere child, and began to give his formal attestation to legal documents at about the same period. At the age of twelve, or thereabouts, he received the homage of the Norman barons as their lord and prospective ruler, and soon after was associated with his mother in the regency during the king’s absence from the duchy.

[16]

Down to the year 1077, there is no evidence of quarrels or disagreement between the Conqueror and his eldest son.[55] Indeed, the proof seems almost conclusive that there were no such quarrels until a relatively late date. Not only do the narrative sources upon careful analysis yield no evidence of disobedience or rebellion upon Robert’s part, but positive documentary evidence points strongly in the opposite direction. A series of charters scattered from 1063 to 1077 reveals Robert on repeated occasions in close association with his parents and his brothers, occupying an honored position, and attesting legal acts[56] almost as frequently as the queen, more frequently than his brothers. That the family harmony was not disturbed by domestic discord as late as the autumn of 1077 there is good reason to believe. For, in that year, Robert joined with his parents and his younger brother William in the imposing dedication ceremonies of Bishop Odo’s great cathedral church at Bayeux,[57] and again, 13 September, in the dedication of the abbey church of the Conqueror’s foundation in honor of St. Stephen at Caen.[58]

[17]

Down to the year 1077 the conduct of Robert Curthose towards the king had, so far as we can see, been exemplary. Even William of Malmesbury, while criticising his later insubordination, still pays tribute to his obedient youth.[1] But difficulties were now at hand. Robert was rapidly growing to manhood, and his character was unfolding. Reared among his father’s men-at-arms, residing much about the court, enjoying the privileged position and the social freedom of the king’s heir and successor designate, he had developed into a warrior of distinguished valor,[2] and into a chivalrous knight and courtier considerably in advance of the rude society of the eleventh century.[3] Short and thick-set, though probably the coarse full face and enormous paunch[4] of later years had not yet developed; fluent of speech, affable in bearing, and of a jovial disposition; generous to the point of prodigality, giving to all who asked with unstinting hand, and lavish of promises when more substantial rewards were lacking;[5] he had[18] become the centre of interest and attraction for the younger set about the Norman court, and from some points of view a serious rival of his father. His position was not unlike that of Henry Fitz Henry, the ‘Young King,’ who nearly a century later created such grave problems for Henry II. He had long borne the title of count and had enjoyed an official, or semi-official, position about the court. He had long since been formally recognized as his father’s heir and successor. The barons had twice done him homage and sworn fealty to him as their lord and future master. He was titular ruler of Maine. And if, as two charters seem to indicate, he was in some way formally invested with the Norman duchy in 1077 or 1078,[6] the resemblance between his position and that of the Young King after his coronation in 1170 is even more striking.

Yet, with all these honors, Robert enjoyed no real power and exercised no active part in affairs of government. It was not the way of the Conqueror to part with any of his prerogatives prematurely; and if, for reasons of state, he bestowed formal honors upon his son, it was still his firm intention to remain sole master until the last within his own dominions. But for the young prince to continue thus in idleness, surrounded by a crowd of restless hangers-on of the younger nobility, was both costly and dangerous. Robert not unnaturally wished for an independent establishment and an income of his own;[7] but these the king was[19] unwilling to provide. Robert, therefore, became dissatisfied; and the ambitious companions by whom he was surrounded were not slow to fan the embers of his growing discontent.[8] Apparently it was in the year 1078, or late in 1077,[9] that the unfortunate quarrel broke out which culminated in the siege of Gerberoy and a personal encounter between father and son upon the field of battle.

Upon the cause of the disagreement we are fortunate in having abundant testimony,[10] and it is possible to define the issue with some exactness. Prompted by the rash counsels of his time-serving companions, Robert went to the king and demanded that immediate charge of the government of Normandy and of Maine be committed forthwith into his hands. To Maine he based his claim upon his rights through Margaret, his deceased fiancée, to Normandy upon the twice repeated grant which his father had made to him, once before the Conquest, and afterwards at Bonneville, when the assembled barons had done him homage and pledged their fealty to him as their lord.[11]

If reliance may be placed upon the account of Ordericus Vitalis,[12] the Conqueror took some time to reflect upon his son’s[20] demands and endeavored to reason with him about them.[13] He urged Robert to put away the rash young men who had prompted him to such imprudence and to give ear to wiser counsels. He explained that his demands were improper. He, the king, held Normandy by hereditary right, and England by right of conquest; and it would be preposterous to expect him to give them up to another. If Robert would only be patient and show himself worthy, he would receive all in due course, with the willing assent of the people and with the blessing of God. Let him remember Absalom and what happened to him, and beware lest he follow in the path of Rehoboam! But to all these weighty arguments Robert turned a deaf ear, replying that he had not come to hear sermons: he had heard such “ad nauseam” from the grammarians. His determination was immovably fixed. He would no longer do service to anyone in Normandy in the mean condition of a dependent. The king’s resolution, however, was equally firm. Normandy, he declared, was his native land, and he wished all to understand that so long as he lived he would never let it slip from his grasp.[14] The argument thus came to a deadlock; yet, apparently, there was no immediate break.[15] Relations doubtless[21] continued strained, but Robert bided his time, perhaps seeking a more favorable opportunity for pressing his demands. At times he may even have appeared reconciled; yet no lasting settlement was possible so long as the cause of the discord remained.

The actual outbreak of open rebellion followed, it seems, directly upon a family broil among the king’s sons; and Ordericus Vitalis, with characteristic fondness for gossip, has not failed to relate the incident in great detail.[16] The Conqueror, so the story runs, was preparing an expedition against the Corbonnais and had stopped at Laigle in the house of a certain Gontier, while Robert Curthose had found lodgings nearby in the house of Roger of Caux. Meanwhile, Robert’s younger brothers, William and Henry, had taken umbrage at his pretensions and at the rash demands which he had made upon their father, and they were strongly supporting the king against him. While in this frame of mind they paid Robert a visit at his lodgings. Going into an upper room, they began dicing ‘as soldiers will’; and presently—doubtless after there had been drinking—they started a row and threw down water upon their host and his companions who were on the floor below. Robert was not unnaturally enraged at this insult, and with the support of his comrades[17] he rushed in upon the offenders, and a wild scuffle ensued, which was only terminated by the timely arrival of the king, who, upon hearing the clamor, came in haste from his lodgings and put a stop to the quarrel by his royal presence.[18]

Robert, however, remained sullen and offended; and that night, accompanied by his intimates, he withdrew secretly from the royal forces and departed. Riding straight for Rouen, he made the rash venture of attempting to seize the castle by a surprise attack, an action which seems almost incredible, except on the hypothesis that a conspiracy with wide ramifications was already under way. However this may be, the attack upon Rouen failed. Roger of Ivry, the king’s butler, who was guarding the castle, got word of the impending stroke, set the defences in order,[22] and sent messengers in hot haste to warn the king of the danger. William was furious at his son’s treason, and ordered a wholesale arrest of the malcontents, thus spreading consternation among them and breaking up their plans. Some were captured, but others escaped across the frontier.[19]

The rising now spread rapidly among the king’s enemies on both sides of the border. Hugh of Châteauneuf-en-Thymerais promptly opened the gates of his castles at Châteauneuf, Sorel, and Rémalard to the fugitives, and so furnished them with a secure base beyond the frontier from which to make incursions into Normandy. Robert of Bellême also joined the rebel cause. Perhaps, indeed, it was through his influence that Hugh of Châteauneuf was persuaded to give succor to the rebels; for Hugh was his brother-in-law, having married his sister Mabel. Ralph de Toeny, lord of Conches, also joined the rebellion, and many others, among them doubtless being Ivo and Alberic of Grandmesnil and Aimeric de Villeray.[20] The border war which followed did not long remain a local matter. It was an event fit to bring joy to all King William’s enemies; and it caused a great commotion, we are told, not only in the immediate neighborhood of the revolt, but also in distant parts among the French and Bretons and the men of Maine and Anjou.[21]

The king, however, met the rebellion with his accustomed vigor and decision. He confiscated the lands of the rebels and turned their rents to the employment of mercenaries to be used against them. Apparently he had been on his way to make war upon Rotrou of Mortagne in the Corbonnais when his plans had been interrupted by the disgraceful brawl among his sons at Laigle.[22] He now abandoned that enterprise, and, making peace[23] with Rotrou, took him and his troops into his own service. And thus raising a considerable army, he laid siege to the rebels in their stronghold at Rémalard.[23] But of the outcome of these operations we have no certain knowledge. One of the insurgents at least, Aimeric de Villeray, was slain, and his son Gulfer was so terrified by his father’s tragic fate that he made peace with the king and remained thereafter unshakably loyal.

We hear, too, vaguely of a ‘dapifer’ of the king of France who was passing from castle to castle among the rebels.[24] What his business was we know not; but it seems not unlikely that King Philip was already negotiating with the insurgent leaders with a view to aiding and abetting their enterprise against his too powerful Norman vassal.[25] Philip had made peace with the Conqueror after the latter’s unsuccessful siege of Dol in 1076,[26] but the friendship of the two kings had not been lasting. Sound policy demanded that Philip spare no effort to curb the overweening power of his great Norman feudatory; and William had, therefore, to count upon his constant, if veiled, hostility.[27] The rebellion of Robert Curthose and his followers was Philip’s opportunity; and it seems not improbable that he looked upon the movement with favor and gave it encouragement from its inception. Clearly he made no effort to suppress it, though the fighting was going on within his own borders. And, in any case, before the end of 1078 he had definitely taken Robert Curthose under his protection and had assigned him the castle of Gerberoy in the[24] Beauvaisis, close to the Norman frontier.[28] There Robert was received with his followers by royal castellans and promised every possible aid and support.

But this evidently was some months, at least, after the outbreak of Robert’s rebellion. As to his movements in the meantime, we hear little more than uncertain rumors. The sources are silent concerning the part which he played in the border warfare which centred around the castles of Hugh of Châteauneuf. We have it on the express statement of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle that Robert fled to his uncle, Robert the Frisian, count of Flanders;[29] and in this the Chronicle is confirmed by Ordericus Vitalis, who adds that he also visited Odo, bishop of Treves.[30] Other writers indicate simply that he withdrew into France.[31] Ordericus indeed, represents him as wandering much farther, and visiting noble kinsmen, “dukes, counts, and powerful townsmen (oppidani) in Lorraine, Germany, Aquitaine, and Gascony,” wasting his substance in dissolute living and reduced to poverty and beggary, and to borrowing of foreign usurers.[32] But such wanderings, if they actually occurred, it seems more natural to assign—since we are reduced to conjecture—to Robert’s second exile.[33] One incident, however, which concerns his mother, the queen, who died in 1083, must be assigned to this period.

The singularly happy relations which existed between William and Matilda, their mutual love, devotion, and confidence, are of course famous. Once only during their long union were these happy relations seriously disturbed.[34] For Matilda’s heart was touched by the distresses of her son, and she did not sympathize[25] with the stern justice of the Conqueror in this domestic matter. Secretly she undertook to provide Robert out of her own revenues with funds for the maintenance of a military force. But the king soon detected her and interfered, declaring, in his wrath, that he had learned the truth of the adage, “A faithless woman is her husband’s bane.” He had loved her as his own soul and had intrusted her with his treasures and with jurisdiction throughout all his dominions, only to find her giving succor to enemies who were plotting against his life. But undaunted by this outburst, the queen sought to justify herself upon the ground of her great love for her eldest son. Though Robert were dead and buried seven feet under the earth, she declared, she would gladly die, if by so doing she could restore him to life. Respecting the spirit of his proud consort, the king turned to vent his rage upon Samson le Breton, the queen’s messenger, proposing to seize him and have him blinded. But Samson received timely warning and managed to escape to Saint-Évroul; and, at the queen’s request, Abbot Mainer received him into the monastery. There he dwelt in security and led an exemplary life for twenty-six years, no doubt well known to the chronicler of the house who records his tale.[35]

Whatever be the truth about Robert’s wanderings and the vicissitudes of his exile, in the end he returned to France and, as already noted, gained the support of King Philip, and was established with his followers in the castle of Gerberoy in the Beauvaisis. There a military force of considerable proportions began to gather around him in response to his lavish promises. Adventurers came from France; but in greater numbers came the malcontents from Normandy. Many who hitherto had kept the peace and had remained loyal to the king now deserted the royal cause and went over to swell the ranks of the rebels.[36] King William was now obliged to turn his attention to this hornet’s nest that was spreading terror among the peaceful and defenceless population on his northeastern frontier. Quartering troops in his strongholds opposite Gerberoy, he endeavored to forestall the destructive raids which the insurgents were making into his[26] territory.[37] But, vexed that his enemies should seem to dwell in security at a point so little removed from the borders of Normandy, he determined to carry the war beyond the frontier; and, though it was the inclement season, he assembled his forces and laid siege to Gerberoy itself for some three weeks soon after Christmas (1078-79).[38]

The operations which followed were enlivened in the fashion of the day by the frequent interchange of challenges and by numerous encounters between selected bodies of knights from each side,[39] until finally the besieged garrison brought the contest to an issue by a successful sortie and a pitched battle in the open before the castle.[40] In the general mêlée which ensued the Conqueror and Robert met in single combat, and the elderly king proved no match for his vigorous and skilful antagonist. He was wounded in the hand or arm, and his horse was shot from under him.[41] According to one, and perhaps the better, account, Tokig son of Wigod, a faithful Englishman, hurried to the king with another mount, only to be himself slain a moment later by a shaft from a crossbow.[42] According to another account, however, at the[27] supreme moment of his antagonist’s distress, Robert recognized his father’s voice—armor had hitherto disguised the king—and, leaping down from his own horse, he directed him to mount and allowed him to ride away.[43] Many of the king’s men were slain, others were captured, and many more were wounded, among them being Robert’s younger brother, William Rufus.[44] The discomfiture of the royal forces was complete, and they fled from the field.[45]

This unexpected defeat before the walls of Gerberoy was a deep humiliation to the Conqueror. William of Malmesbury speaks of it as the one outstanding misfortune of his long and brilliant career.[46] In the bitterness of his shame and of his indignation against the son who had not only rebelled against him, but had actually met him on the field of battle and wounded and unhorsed him, William is said to have laid on Robert a terrible curse, vowing to disinherit him forever.[47] Though the curse was soon lifted and grudging forgiveness granted, one might easily believe from the misfortunes of Robert’s later years that the baneful influence of this paternal malediction followed him to his grave more than half a century later beneath the pavement stones of Gloucester abbey.

The part played by the king of France in the border war around Gerberoy is puzzling. The narrative sources state specifically that King Philip had given his support to Robert and the Norman rebels and had deliberately established them at Gerberoy in order that they might harry the Norman border. Yet we have a charter of unquestioned validity by King Philip in favor of the church of Saint-Quentin of Beauvais, which bears the signatures of both William and Philip and a dating clause which[28] reveals the fact that it was drawn up at the siege which the two kings were conducting about Gerberoy in 1079.[48] The evidence is conclusive, therefore, that, though the French king had previously supported Robert and had actually established him at Gerberoy, he nevertheless joined with the Conqueror early in 1079 in besieging the Norman rebels in his own stronghold.[49] How King William had wrought this change of mind in his jealous overlord we have no means of knowing. But it is evident that, while meeting his son’s rebellion by force of arms, he had not been forgetful of his mastery of the diplomatic art.

The presence of so great an ally, however, could not disguise the fact of the Conqueror’s defeat; and before the struggle was allowed to go to further extremes, influences were brought to bear upon the king which led to a reconciliation. After his humiliating discomfiture William had retired to Rouen.[50] Robert is said to have gone to Flanders,[51] though this seems hardly likely in view of his decisive victory over the royal forces. In any case, intermediaries now began to pass back and forth between them. Robert was very willing to make peace and be reconciled with his father. The barons, too, had little mind for a continuation of this kind of warfare. Robert’s rebellion had divided many a family, and it was irksome to the nobles to have to fight against “sons, brothers, and kinsmen.” Accordingly, Roger of Montgomery, Hugh of Gournay, Hugh of Grandmesnil, and Roger of Beaumont and his sons Robert and Henry went to the king and besought him to be reconciled with his son. They explained that Robert had been led astray by the evil counsels of depraved youth—were the ‘depraved youth’ in question the ‘sons and brothers’ of our respectable negotiators?—that he now repented of his errors and acknowledged his fault and humbly implored the royal clemency. The king at first remained obdurate and complained bitterly against his son. His conduct, he declared,[29] had been infamous. He had stirred up civil war and led away the very flower of the young nobility. He had also brought in the foreign enemy; and, had it been in his power, he would have armed the whole human race against his father! The barons, however, persisted in their efforts. Conferences were renewed. Bishops and other men of religion, among them St. Simon of Crépy,[52] an old friend and companion of the Conqueror, intervened to soften the king’s heart. The queen, too, and ambassadors from the king of France, and neighboring nobles who had entered the Conqueror’s service all added their solicitations. And “at last the stern prince, giving way to the entreaties of so many persons of rank, and moved also by natural affection, was reconciled with his son and those who had been leagued with him.” With the consent of the assembled barons he renewed to Robert the grant of the succession to Normandy after his death, upon the same conditions as he had granted it on a former occasion at Bonneville.[53]

[30]

It is not clear over how long a period the foregoing negotiations had been drawn out, though it is not improbable that they were continued into the spring of 1080;[54] for on 8 May of that year Gregory VII wrote Robert a letter of fatherly counsel in which he referred to the reconciliation as good news which had but recently reached him. The Pope rejoiced that Robert had acquiesced in his father’s wishes and put away the society of base companions; while at the same time he solemnly warned him against a return to his evil courses in the future.[55]

Whether or not the Pope’s admonition had anything to do with it, Robert seems, for a time at least, to have made an earnest effort to acquiesce in his father’s wishes. The reconciliation was, so far as can be seen, complete and cordial. Again Robert’s name begins to appear frequently in the charters of the period, indicating a full and friendly coöperation with his parents and his brothers.[56] The king, too, seems so far to have had a change of[31] heart as to be willing for the first time in his life to intrust his son with important enterprises.

In the late summer of 1079, King Malcolm of Scotland had taken advantage of the Conqueror’s preoccupation with his continental dominions to harry Northumberland as far south as the Tyne,[57] and King William had been obliged for the moment to forego his vengeance. But in the late summer or autumn of 1080 he crossed over to England with Robert,[58] and prepared to square accounts with his Scottish adversary. Assembling a large force, which included Abbot Adelelm of Abingdon and a considerable number of the great barons of England, he placed Robert in command and sent him northward against the Scottish raider.[59] Advancing into Lothian,[60] Robert met Malcolm at Eccles,[61] but found him in no mood for fighting. Ready enough for raids and plundering when the English armies were at a safe distance, the Scottish king had no desire for the test of a decisive engagement. Unless the language of the Abingdon chronicle is misleading, he again recognized the English suzerainty over his kingdom and gave hostages for his good faith.[62] Thus enjoying an easy triumph, Robert turned back southward. Laying the foundations of ‘New Castle’ upon the Tyne[63] as he passed, he came again to his father and was duly rewarded for his achievement.[64]

[32]

Charters indicate that Robert remained in England throughout the following winter and spring;[65] but before the end of 1081 important events had taken place on the borders of Maine which called both the king and his son back in haste to the Continent.

Norman rule was always unpopular in Maine, and it created grave problems. As has already been explained, it had been temporarily overthrown during the critical years which followed the Norman conquest of England, and it had been reëstablished only by force of arms in 1073.[66] But the restoration of Norman domination in Maine was a serious check to the ambition of Fulk le Réchin, count of Anjou, who seized every opportunity to cause embarrassment to his Norman rival. Thus, in the autumn of 1076,[67] he assisted the beleaguered garrison at Dol and was at least in part responsible for the Conqueror’s discomfiture.[68] So, too, he made repeated attacks upon John of La Flèche, one of the most powerful supporters of the Norman interest in Maine.[69] Though the chronology and the details of these events are exceedingly obscure, there is reason to believe that Fulk’s movements were in some way connected with the rebellion of Robert Curthose.[70] And while it is impossible to be dogmatic, it is perhaps not a very hazardous conjecture that upon the outbreak of Robert’s rebellion, late in 1077, or in 1078, Fulk seized the opportunity of the king’s embarrassment and preoccupation on the eastern Norman frontier to launch an expedition against his hated enemy, John of La Flèche.[71] But Fulk’s hopes were sadly[33] disappointed; for John of La Flèche learned of the impending stroke in time to obtain reënforcements from Normandy,[72] and Fulk was obliged to retire, severely wounded, from the siege.[73] It was probably after these events that a truce was concluded between King William and Count Fulk at an unidentified place called “castellum Vallium,”[74] a truce which appears to have relieved the Conqueror from further difficulties in Maine until after his reconciliation with Robert Curthose. In 1081, however, taking advantage of the absence of the king and Robert in England, Fulk returned to the attack upon Maine; and this time his[34] efforts seem to have met with more success. Again laying siege to La Flèche, he took it and burned it.[75]

It was apparently this reverse sustained by the Norman supporters in Maine which caused the king and Robert to hasten back from England in 1081. Levying a great army—sixty thousand, according to Ordericus![76]—they hastened towards La Flèche to meet the victorious Angevins. But when the hostile armies were drawn up facing each other and the battle was about to begin,[77] an unnamed cardinal priest[78] and certain monks interposed their friendly offices in the interest of peace. William of Évreux and Roger of Montgomery ably seconded their efforts, and after much negotiation terms were finally agreed upon in the treaty of La Bruère or Blanchelande (1081). Fulk abandoned his pretensions to direct rule in Maine and recognized the rights of Robert Curthose. Robert, on the other hand, recognized the Angevin overlordship of Maine and formally did homage to Fulk for the fief. Further, a general amnesty was extended to the baronage on both sides. John of La Flèche and other Angevin nobles who had been fighting in the Norman interest were reconciled with Fulk, and the Manceaux who had supported the Angevin cause were received back into the good graces of the king.[79] Finally, there probably was an interchange of hostages as an assurance of good faith. The so-called Annals of Renaud,[35] at any rate, assert that the king’s half-brother and nephew, Robert of Mortain and his son, and many others were given as hostages to Fulk.[80]

With the conclusion of peace in 1081 the relations between the Conqueror and the count of Anjou with regard to Maine entered upon a happier era,[81] though difficulties between them were by no means at an end. The death of Arnold, bishop of Le Mans, for example, on 29 November 1081, gave rise to a long dispute as to the right of patronage over the see. Fulk strongly opposed Hoël, the Norman candidate, and it was not until 21 April 1085 that Hoël was finally consecrated by Archbishop William at Rouen and the Norman rights over the see of Le Mans definitely vindicated.[82] During this same period King William had also to contend with a very troublesome local insurrection among the Manceaux. Under the leadership of Hubert, vicomte of Maine, the rebels installed themselves in the impregnable fortress of Sainte-Suzanne and maintained themselves there for several years against all the king’s efforts to dislodge them. At last, in 1085, or early in 1086, he practically acknowledged his defeat, and received Hubert, the leader of the rebels, back into his favor.[83]

If Robert Curthose played any active part in the dispute with Count Fulk as to the right of patronage over the see of Le Mans, or in the siege of Sainte-Suzanne, or, indeed, if he had any actual share in the government of Maine during this period, the record of it has not been preserved. Whatever intention the king may have had of taking his son into a closer coöperation in the management of his affairs was evidently short-lived, and he continued to keep the exercise of all authority directly in his own hands.

Such a policy, however, was fatal to the good understanding that had been established after the siege of Gerberoy, and inevitably[36] led to further difficulties. Indeed, it is altogether possible that Robert was again in exile before the end of 1083. After the peace of La Bruère he can be traced in a number of charters of 1082 and 1083. On 24 June 1082, he was at Oissel in Normandy.[84] Once in the same year he was at Downton in England.[85] He was certainly back in Normandy in association with the king and queen and William Rufus as late as 18 July 1083.[86] And then he disappears from view until after the Conqueror’s death in 1087. Evidently another bitter quarrel had intervened and been followed by a second banishment.

It seems impossible from the confused narrative of Ordericus Vitalis and the meagre notices of other chroniclers to disentangle the details of this new controversy. It is clear that the points at issue had not changed materially since the earlier difficulties.[87][37] Robert, long since formally recognized as the Conqueror’s heir and successor designate, to whom the baronage had repeatedly done homage, could not remain content with the wholly subordinate position and with the limitations which the king imposed upon him. His youth, prospects, and affable manners, his generosity and unrestrained social propensities won him a numerous following among the younger nobility; and these ambitious companions in turn spurred him on to make importunate demands upon his father for larger powers and enjoyments. The king, on the other hand, could not bring himself to make the desired concessions. It was no part of the Conqueror’s nature to share his powers or prerogatives with anyone. Doubtless there was blame on both sides. Even Ordericus Vitalis hardly justifies the king. Robert, he says, refused to be obedient, and the king covered him with reproaches publicly.[88] And so the old controversy was renewed, and Robert again withdrew from Normandy. Knight errant that he was, he set out to seek his fortune in foreign parts—like Polynices the Theban in search of his Adrastus![89]

As to the period of these wanderings, we have no indication beyond the negative evidence of the charters, in which Robert does not appear after 1083. It may, perhaps, be conjectured that the death of the queen (2 November 1083), who had befriended him during his earlier difficulties with his father, had removed the support which made possible his continued residence at the court.[90]

Robert’s second exile was evidently longer than the first,[91] and less filled with active warfare on the frontiers of Normandy. It[38] seems natural, therefore, to suppose that the distant wanderings and vicissitudes of which we hear, ‘in Lorraine, Germany, Aquitaine, and Gascony,’[92] should be assigned to this period. Of more value, perhaps, than the vague indications of Ordericus Vitalis, and certainly of greater interest, if true, is the statement of William of Malmesbury that Robert made his way to Italy and sought the hand of the greatest heiress of the age, the famous Countess Matilda of Tuscany, desiring thus to gain support against his father. In this ambitious project, however, the courtly exile was doomed to disappointment, for Matilda rejected his proposal.[93]

Failing of his quest in Italy, Robert seems to have returned to France, and to the satisfaction of his desires among baser associates. Long banishment and vagabondage had brought on deterioration of character and led him into habits of loose living[94] from which the Conqueror was notably free. At some time during his long exile, he became the father of several illegitimate children. Ordericus Vitalis puts the story as baldly as possible, asserting that he became enamored of the handsome concubine of an aged priest somewhere on the borders of France and had two sons by her.[95] Both were destined to a tragic death before their father. One of them, Richard, fell a victim to the evil spell which lay upon the New Forest, being accidentally slain by an arrow while hunting there in the year 1100.[96] The other, William,[39] after his father’s final defeat at Tinchebray in 1106, went to Jerusalem and died fighting in the holy wars.[97] Robert also had an illegitimate daughter, who lived to become the wife of Helias of Saint-Saëns, most sturdy and loyal of all the supporters of Robert Curthose in the victorious days of Henry I.[98]

Whatever the field of Robert’s obscure wanderings and whatever the vicissitudes through which he passed, he returned eventually to France, where he enjoyed the friendship and support of King Philip.[99] The king of France had momentarily fought upon the side of the Conqueror at Gerberoy in 1079; but such an alliance was unnatural and could not last. Hostility between the two kings was inevitable; and almost the last act of the Conqueror’s life was a revival of the ancient feud and an attempt to take vengeance upon the hated overlord who had given asylum and succor to his rebellious son.[100]

The struggle this time raged over the debatable ground of the Vexin. In the late summer of 1087 King William assembled his forces and appeared suddenly before the gates of Mantes. The inhabitants and the garrison, scattered about the countryside, were taken completely by surprise; and as they fled in wild confusion back within the walls, the king and his men rushed in after them, plundered the town, and burned it to the ground.[101]

But from that day of vengeance and destruction the Conqueror returned to Rouen a dying man. There, lingering for some weeks[40] at the priory of Saint-Gervais outside the city, he made his final earthly dispositions. Robert, his undutiful son, was still in France and at war against him.[102] Whether from conviction of his incompetence or from resentment at his treason, the king had arrived at the unalterable decision that Robert, his firstborn, should not succeed him in England. For that honor he recommended William Rufus, his second son. Indeed, the dying king, it seems, would gladly have disinherited his eldest son altogether.[103] But there were grave difficulties in the way of such a course. Robert had been formally and repeatedly designated as his heir and successor.[104] In the last awful moments of his earthly existence the Conqueror recognized that he did not hold the English kingdom by hereditary right; he had received it through the favor of God and victorious battle with Harold.[105] Robert, his heir, therefore—so he is said to have reasoned—had no claim upon England. But Normandy he had definitely conceded to him; and Robert had received the homage of the baronage. The grant thus made and ratified he could not annul.[106] Moreover, there were men of weight and influence present at the royal bedside to plead the exile’s cause. Fearing lest their lord should die with wrath in his heart against the son who had injured him so deeply, the assembled prelates and barons, Archbishop William being their spokesman, endeavored to turn the king’s heart into the way of forgiveness. At first he was bitter and seemed to be recounting to himself the manifold injuries that Robert had done[41] him; he had sinned against him grievously and brought down his gray hairs to the grave. But finally, yielding to persuasion and making the supreme effort of self-conquest, the king called on God and the assembled magnates to witness that he forgave Robert all his offences and renewed to him the grant of Normandy[107] and Maine.[108] A messenger was despatched to France to bear to Robert the tidings of paternal forgiveness and of his succession to the duchy.[109] And with these and other final dispositions, William the Conqueror ended his career upon earth (9 September 1087). His undutiful and rebellious son was not present at the royal bedside at the end,[110] nor later at the burial in the church of St. Stephen at Caen.[111]

[42]

While William Rufus was hurrying to England to claim the royal crown, and the young Prince Henry was piously attending his father’s funeral at Caen, Robert Curthose, hearing the news of the Conqueror’s death, hastily returned from his long exile, and upon arriving at Rouen took possession of his inheritance without encountering any opposition.[1] At last the duchy of Normandy and the county of Maine, so long denied him by his imperious father, were within his grasp. No doubt the news of the king’s death was very welcome to the incorrigible exile; yet it is pleasant to learn that Robert, upon entering into his inheritance, was not neglectful of filial duty toward his father’s memory or of those charitable acts which were regarded as necessary for the weal of the departed soul. The Conqueror upon his deathbed had made provision for the distribution of his treasures[2] and for the release of prisoners from his gaols.[3] These dispositions the duke was careful to carry out, making bounteous distribution of such treasure as he found to monasteries and churches and to the poor; while two captives of royal descent—Wulf, son of King Harold, and Duncan, son of King Malcolm—he not only allowed to go their way in peace, but honored with the arms of knighthood.[4] Filial piety and the chivalrous impulses of Robert[43] Curthose were never more happily united. Some of the rare charters of the duke’s early reign are also indicative of a similar spirit. Thus we find him confirming to Saint-Étienne of Caen a grant of the manor of Vains which the Conqueror had made during his last illness.[5] Perhaps not quite the same motive, though assuredly no spirit of rancor, led him on 7 July 1088 to restore to La Trinité of Fécamp the lands which his father had taken away in his wrath.[6]

The news of the Conqueror’s death spread with incredible swiftness,[7] and the new duke can hardly have reached Rouen before a new era (nimia rerum mutatio) had dawned in Normandy.[8] The days of stern government, of enforced peace, of castles garrisoned and controlled by the duke had passed—at least until Normandy should again be brought under the heavy hand of an English king. Robert of Bellême was on his way to the royal bedside, and had got as far as Brionne, when the news of the king’s death reached him. Instantly he wheeled his horse, and, galloping back to Alençon, he took the royal garrison by surprise, drove it out, and established his own retainers in the castle. Then, pressing on, he repeated this performance at Bellême and at other of his strongholds. He also turned upon his weaker neighbors, and either expelled their garrisons and installed his own troops in their stead, or razed their castles to the ground in order that none might stand against him. So, too, William of Évreux, William of Breteuil, Ralph of Conches, and other lords—most of them old friends and supporters of Robert Curthose in rebellious days—expelled the garrisons of King William from their fortresses and took them into their own hands.[9] Already the stage was set for the private warfare, the pillage, and the[44] harrying that were to reduce Normandy to the verge of chaos. The monk of Saint-Évroul, whose house was unfortunately located amid the very worst dens of iniquity, sends up a wail of lamentation. Robert was duke of Normandy and prince of the Manceaux in name, indeed; but so sunk was he in sloth and idleness that his government knew neither virtue nor justice.[10] But to these things it will be necessary to recur in another connection. It was, in any event, clear from the beginning that the barons were to enjoy a position of influence, independence, and power under the new régime such as had been denied them by the Conqueror.

For some four years before the death of the late king, Bishop Odo of Bayeux had been held a royal prisoner in the castle of Rouen. Very reluctantly had the Conqueror, as he lay upon his deathbed, been prevailed upon to release him.[11] But under the new duke the fortunes of the bishop again rose rapidly. Not only did he enjoy freedom, but all his former possessions and honors in Normandy were restored to him, and he took his place among the duke’s chief counsellors.[12] Soon afterwards he crossed over to England, and was reëstablished in his former earldom of Kent.[13] And then, with vaulting ambition, he began to plot the overthrow of William Rufus and the reuniting of England and Normandy under the rule of Robert Curthose.

The position of Odo of Bayeux, with his broad holdings and honors on both sides of the Channel, was typical of that of many of the Anglo-Norman barons. They had been held by William the Conqueror under a tight rein, but at least they had had a single master. Now, however, the two realms were divided, and the service of two lords presented grave inconveniences. “If we do our duty to Robert, the duke of Normandy,” they said, “we shall offend his brother William, and so lose our great revenues and high honors in England. On the other hand, if we keep our[45] fealty to King William, Duke Robert will take from us our patrimonial estates in Normandy.”[14] Further, the accession of two young and inexperienced princes, after the stern rule and rigorous repression of the preceding reign, offered a peculiarly tempting opportunity for rebellion. And as between the two princes, there could be little doubt on which side the support of most of the barons would be thrown. Robert was affable, mild, and pliable—for the turbulent nobles of the eleventh century such a ruler as they most desired. William, on the other hand, was arrogant and terrible and likely to be a harsh, unbending master. Moreover, Robert, as the eldest son, was deemed to have the better right.[15] William Rufus had gained the kingdom largely by virtue of his own decisive action and the support of Archbishop Lanfranc. Though publicly acknowledged, his tenure of the English crown was by no means unreservedly accepted by the baronage in England.[16] Accordingly, late in 1087, or more probably early in the spring of 1088,[17] a conspiracy with wide ramifications was formed for his overthrow and for the transfer of the kingdom to Robert Curthose. “In this year,” says the Chronicler, “this land was much disturbed and filled with great treason, so that the most powerful Frenchmen that were in this land would betray their lord the king, and would have for king his brother Robert who was count of Normandy.”[18]

The beginnings of this treasonable enterprise are obscure, and it is impossible to say with certainty on which side of the Channel the plot was hatched.[19] Bishop Odo of Bayeux was unquestionably[46] its prime mover, and of his activities we have some knowledge. Having risen to honor and power in Normandy, he had crossed over to England before the end of 1087 and was in attendance at the king’s Christmas court,[20] apparently in the full enjoyment of his English earldom.[21] But he may even then have been contemplating treason. Certainly the inception of the great conspiracy both in England and in Normandy can hardly have been delayed long afterwards. During the early spring secret negotiations were active, and frequent messages must have been exchanged between England and the Continent.[22] One after another the great nobles and prelates were won over. Even William of Saint-Calais, bishop of Durham, who had been raised by William Rufus to the position of chief trust in the kingdom, was widely believed to have joined the conspiracy.[23] Before the close of Lent[24] the greater part of the Anglo-Norman baronage had strengthened the defences of their castles and broken into open revolt. The rebellion extended from the south coast to Northumberland[47] and from East Anglia to the Welsh border.[25] But the centre and heart of the movement, so far, at any rate, as it concerns the life of Robert Curthose, lay in the southeast of England, where Bishop Odo and his immediate supporters had established themselves in strategic positions in the strongholds of Rochester[26] and Pevensey.[27]

Duke Robert’s connection with the great rebellion of 1088 in its early stages is by no means clear. According to one of the later writers, upon learning that his brother had gone to England to claim the royal crown, Robert had sworn a great oath by the angels of God, declaring that though he were in distant Alexandria, the English would await his coming and make him king.[28] Actually, however, he seems to have reconciled himself to the accomplished fact,[29] and not to have contemplated an attack upon England until the barons, taking the initiative, informed him of their plan for the overthrow of William Rufus.[30] Upon hearing this good news, however, he promptly approved the project and promised the conspirators every possible aid and support.[31] As an earnest of his intention, he sent Eustace of Boulogne and Robert of Bellême with their retainers on in advance to England, where they were installed by Bishop Odo in the great fortress of Rochester. Meanwhile, he undertook to collect a fleet and to prepare for an invasion in force.[32]

[48]

But the levy and equipment of an expedition for a second Norman conquest of England was an undertaking for which the resources of the duke were little able to provide. Careless, prodigal, incurably fond of good living, Robert was by nature impecunious. The unsettling transformation that had come over the duchy upon his accession was little likely to recruit his financial resources. The sudden increase in the power and independence of the nobility, the disturbed state of the country, the lavish grant of emoluments to all who asked, the charitable distribution of the Conqueror’s treasure to religious houses, all these things inevitably depleted the ducal resources. And further, under the terms of the late king’s will, 5000 livres had been paid out to make provision for Prince Henry.[33]

As compared with Robert, who had squandered his treasure in reckless extravagance, Prince Henry enjoyed a certain opulence. Pious attendance at the Conqueror’s obsequies had not prevented his having his treasure weighed out to the last farthing, “in order that nothing should be lacking,” and putting it in a place of security among friends upon whom he could rely.[34] Without land which he could call his own, and placed in a somewhat difficult position between the rival interests of his brothers, he had stood carefully upon his guard, frugally husbanding his resources, and holding himself in readiness to take sides with either of his brothers, or with neither, as his own interests should decide.[35] He was more drawn to Robert, however, because of his mildness and good nature,[36] and for a time he remained with him in Normandy.[37] To Henry, accordingly, Robert appealed in 1088 for[49] funds to be used in the invasion of England. But gifts without reward Henry would not give. Soon, however, fresh messengers from the duke brought the welcome news that Robert was willing to sell him a part of his lands; whereupon Henry became more pliable, and a bargain was soon struck. For 3000 livres the duke handed over to him the whole of the Cotentin, Avranches, and Mont-Saint-Michel, together with the great Norman lordship of Earl Hugh of Chester.[38] Thus Robert obtained a supply of ready cash to equip his forces for the invasion of England, though at the expense of alienating a part of his birthright. This was but the beginning of a policy of short-sighted expedients in lieu of effective government, which in the end was to prove fatal to his rule.

Meanwhile, the rebellion had taken a course which was disastrous for Robert’s cause in England. William Rufus, finding that the greater part of the Anglo-Norman baronage had deserted him, turned for support to his native English subjects, and his appeal to them was not made in vain.[39] Gathering together such forces as he could, he marched straight upon Tunbridge and took the place by storm. Then he pushed on towards Rochester, expecting to find Odo of Bayeux and the main body of the rebel forces. But the bishop had learned of his coming and had slipped out of Rochester and gone to Pevensey, where he joined Robert of Mortain in the defence of the castle, while they awaited the arrival of Robert Curthose with the expedition from Normandy. But the king was informed of the bishop’s movement, and, abandoning his proposed attack upon Rochester, he marched southward upon Pevensey and began a protracted siege of the castle.[40]

[50]

Meanwhile, the long expected fleet from Normandy did not appear. One writer complains that the duke dallied away his time with amusements ill befitting a man.[41] Indeed, so widespread was the English rebellion that the kingdom appeared to be almost within his grasp, if only he had bestirred himself to seize it.[42] Yet with William Rufus loyally supported by an English army and pushing his campaign with the utmost vigor, everything depended upon the promptness with which the duke could land troops in England to support the rebels. It was doubtless the knowledge of this pressing need which induced Robert to send forward a part of his forces in advance, while he himself remained in Normandy to make more extended preparations.[43] But the vanguard of the ducal fleet met with a disaster which proved fatal to the whole insurrectionary movement. While William Rufus himself maintained a close investment of Pevensey, he had sent his ships to sea to ward off the threatened attack. And as the Norman fleet approached the English coast, the rival forces joined in battle, and the invaders were overwhelmingly defeated. To add to the catastrophe, a sudden calm cut off every possibility of escape to the Norman forces. According to contemporary writers the multitude that perished was beyond all reckoning.[44]

Disaster followed hard upon disaster. Bishop Odo, the count of Mortain, and the garrison of Pevensey were reduced by starvation and obliged to surrender after a six weeks’ resistance.[45] The bishop gave himself up, and solemnly promised upon oath to procure the surrender of Rochester and then depart the kingdom forever. Upon this understanding the king, suspecting no ruse or[51] bad faith, sent him off with a small force to receive the submission of Rochester. But the great fortress, the chief stronghold of the rebels in southeastern England, was held by a strong garrison and able leaders whom the duke had sent from Normandy,[46] such warriors as Eustace of Boulogne and Robert of Bellême and two of his brothers, men of intrepid courage, who were unwilling to admit the hopelessness of their cause. And when Odo appeared before the castle with the royal troops and summoned them to surrender, they suddenly sallied forth, seized both the bishop and his captors, and carried the whole party within the walls.[47] Outwitted by this clever ruse, the king was again obliged to summon his English supporters[48] and lay siege to Rochester. But still no reënforcements arrived from Normandy, and again the royal arms enjoyed a triumph. The defenders of Rochester were obliged to surrender;[49] and the traitor bishop was now at last deprived of all his revenues and honors in England and driven over sea forever.[50] Doubtless other rebels were sent into exile with him.[51] But William Rufus with politic foresight tempered his animosity against many and admitted them to reconciliation.[52]

[52]

With the destruction of Duke Robert’s fleet, the reduction of Pevensey and Rochester, and the expulsion of Odo of Bayeux from England, the force of the rebellion had been broken. Whatever plans the duke may have had to follow with a greater fleet were perforce abandoned. Through his own weakness and procrastination, coupled with the vigor and resourcefulness of William Rufus and the loyalty of the native English, the attempt to place Robert Curthose upon the throne of England, at one time so promising, had ended in utter failure.

But Robert’s failure did not end the hostility between the two brothers. No peace negotiations intervened. William Rufus continued to nurse his indignation and to thirst for vengeance. He professed to fear some further mischief from the duke.[53] Robert, too, remained suspicious and apprehensive. Prince Henry, learning of the fall of Rochester, and eager to conciliate the victor, had hastened across the Channel to visit the king and crave from him “the lands of his mother” to which he laid claim.[54] The duke regarded this move with little favor; and when, soon after,[55] Henry had accomplished his mission and was returning to Normandy in company with Robert of Bellême, who had also been reconciled with William Rufus, the duke had him seized at the landing and placed in custody. Malicious enemies, we are told, had poisoned the duke’s mind with the belief that Henry and[53] Robert of Bellême had not only made their peace with the king, but had entered into a sworn agreement to his own hurt.[56] Henry was released from prison some six months later, at the solicitation of the Norman barons,[57] and the incident is not, perhaps, of great importance—for, if Henry and the king had arrived at any understanding, it must have been of short duration—yet it serves to illustrate the strained relations which continued to exist between Robert Curthose and William Rufus.

Meanwhile, the king, at last secure in his possession of the English throne, began to develop plans for taking vengeance upon the duke. If we can rely upon the unsupported statement of Ordericus Vitalis in such a matter, he held a formal assembly of his barons at Winchester, apparently in 1089,[58] and laid before them proposals for an attack upon Normandy. He harangued the assembled magnates upon the faithless conduct of his brother and upon the state of unchecked anarchy into which he had allowed his duchy to fall. The whole country, he declared, had become a prey to thieves and robbers, and the lamentations of the clergy had reached him from beyond the sea. It behooved him, therefore, as the son of his father, to send to Normandy for the succor of holy church, for the protection of widows and orphans, and for the just punishment of plunderers and assassins. Upon being asked their advice, the assembled nobles promptly approved the king’s project.[59] Perhaps some of the quondam[54] rebels reasoned that, since the two realms could not be reunited under the weak and pliable Robert, it would still be worth their while to attempt to bring about the desired union under his more masterful brother.[60]

The king’s plan evidently did not involve immediate open war upon Robert Curthose. It was not the way of William Rufus to attempt upon the field of battle that which might more expeditiously be accomplished through diplomacy. This was a form of attack which the impoverished duke was little qualified to combat. Choosing as the field of his activities the Norman lands lying north and east of the Seine, William Rufus began by winning over by bribery the garrison of Saint-Valery at the mouth of the Somme, thus gaining a strong castle and a commodious seaport in a position most advantageously located for the further prosecution of his design. It must have been at about the same time that Stephen of Aumale yielded to the same golden argument, and opened the gates of his stronghold to the soldiers of King William. From these convenient bases plundering raids were then carried into the surrounding country.[61] Soon the contagion spread farther. Gerard of Gournay placed his castles of Gournay, La Ferté-en-Bray, and Gaillefontaine at the disposal of the king, and actively devoted himself to the promotion of the English cause among his neighbors. His example was promptly followed by Robert of Eu and Walter Giffard, lord of Longueville, and by Ralph of Mortemer. In short, by an effective blending of bribery and diplomacy, William Rufus had succeeded in detaching the greater part of the Norman nobles dwelling upon the right bank of the Seine from their allegiance to the duke.[62]

[55]

The single notable exception appears to have been Helias of Saint-Saëns, to whom Robert had given his illegitimate daughter, and with her the castles of Arques and Bures and their appurtenant lands as a marriage portion. Firmly establishing his son-in-law at Saint-Saëns, Arques, and Bures, the duke intended that he should stand as a counterpoise to the rapidly growing English influence east of the Seine.[63] And his expectations were not disappointed. Through every adversity, Helias of Saint-Saëns remained staunchly loyal to the cause of Robert Curthose and of his son, long after the final triumph of Henry I at Tinchebray.

Of other measures taken by the duke to combat the insidious aggression of his more resourceful rival, we have only the most fragmentary knowledge. From one of Robert’s charters, it appears that he besieged and captured the castle of Eu in 1089.[64] This, it seems not improbable, was one of his early and successful efforts against the Norman traitors and their English ally. We know, too, that in his extreme need he appealed to his overlord, the king of France. Yet here again our information is discouragingly fragmentary. Of the relations between the duke and his overlord after the death of William the Conqueror we know nothing except that on 24 April 1089 Robert was at Vernon on the Seine frontier, engaged in some sort of hostile enterprise against France.[65] Certain it is, however, that before the close of[56] this year he had sought and obtained the aid of King Philip against his Anglo-Norman enemies in the lands east of the Seine.[66] Together they laid siege to La Ferté-en-Bray,[67] the castle of Gerard of Gournay. But again the golden diplomacy of William Rufus proved more than a match for the vanishing resources of the duke. “No small quantity of money having been transmitted secretly to King Philip,” he was readily induced to abandon the siege and return home.[68]

In 1090 difficulties continued to multiply around Duke Robert. In the city of Rouen itself William Rufus had contrived through bribery to gain a following, and had set himself to promote civic discord as a means of undermining the duke’s authority.[69] In November 1090 a factional conflict broke out in Rouen between two parties of the burghers, the Pilatenses and Calloenses. Of the latter we know no more than that they were the supporters of the duke and that they were the weaker of the two factions.[70] The Pilatenses were ably led by a certain Conan, son of Gilbert Pilatus, described as the wealthiest citizen of Rouen. His great riches enabled him to maintain a large household of retainers in opposition to the duke and to draw into his faction the greater part of the citizens. As a further resource, Conan had covenanted with William Rufus to deliver up to him the city. An insurrection was planned to take place on 3 November; and at the appointed hour the king’s hirelings were to come from Gournay and other neighboring fortresses to support the rising. Some of the king’s adherents[57] had already secretly been brought within the walls, ready to join the rebels at the appointed moment.[71]

The duke learned late of the events that were impending and had barely time to call up reënforcements. Hasty summonses were sent to William of Évreux, Robert of Bellême, William of Breteuil, and Gilbert of Laigle. More important still, Prince Henry was induced to forget past wrongs and come to the duke’s assistance in this hour of need. These measures were taken barely in time to avert a disaster. Henry, apparently, was already within the city before the outbreak; but as Gilbert of Laigle with a troop of horse galloped across the bridge over the Seine and entered Rouen from the south, Reginald of Warenne with three hundred supporters of William Rufus was already battering at the western gate. Meanwhile, within the city the insurrection had broken out amid scenes of wild confusion. Robert and Henry issued from the citadel and began to attack the rebels upon front and rear. Robert was personally brave and a sturdy fighter, and on later occasions he proved himself an excellent leader in emergencies. But in the wild confusion and uncertainties of the Rouen insurrection, his friends became alarmed lest some serious mishap should befall him, and persuaded him to retire to a place of safety and not expose himself to such grave perils until the issue of the conflict should be decided. Accordingly, he withdrew by the eastern gate into the Faubourg Malpalu, and, there taking a boat across the Seine to Émendreville, he found shelter in the priory of Notre-Dame-du-Pré.[72] Meanwhile, within the city, Henry and Gilbert of Laigle and their supporters put down the insurrection with a great slaughter of the inhabitants. Conan and many other rebels were captured, and the hirelings of William Rufus were obliged to withdraw in confusion and seek the shelter of a neighboring wood, until under the cover of darkness they were able to make good their escape. With the triumph of his forces, the duke returned to the city, and, with his habitual mildness, was for throwing Conan into a dungeon and showing[58] clemency to the rest of the rebels. But his barons had other views, and insisted upon taking a savage vengeance upon the burghers who had been involved in the treason. William, son of Ansger, one of the richest men in the city, was led away into captivity by William of Breteuil and held for a ransom of 3000 livres. As for Conan, the archtraitor, Prince Henry craved leave of the duke to dispose of him in his own way. Taking him up to the upper story of the tower of Rouen, where a window commanded a view of the surrounding country, he called upon the wretch to view the beauties of the landscape as it stretched away across the Seine; and then, swearing by the soul of his mother that a traitor should not be admitted to ransom, he thrust him backwards through the window. The place, says Ordericus Vitalis, is known as Conan’s Leap “unto this day.”[73]

The failure of William Rufus to overthrow the authority of Robert Curthose in Rouen by stirring up an insurrection did not put a check upon his ambitious projects elsewhere. In this same month of November 1090 private war broke out between William of Évreux and Ralph of Conches. The latter appealed to the duke for aid, but got no encouragement; whereupon he turned to William Rufus, and found him altogether too alert to let slip so good an opportunity of extending his influence. The king promptly directed his Norman allies, Stephen of Aumale and Gerard of Gournay, to send reinforcements to Conches.[74] And so the English sphere of influence was extended to the left bank of the Seine. But William Rufus was now preparing for more direct action against the waning power of the duke. By long and patient diplomacy, coupled with a liberal expenditure of English treasure, he had succeeded in undermining his authority in a large portion of the duchy. At the close of January, or early in February 1091[75] he himself crossed to[59] Normandy with a considerable fleet and established his headquarters at Eu.[76]

The news of the king’s landing came like a thunderclap to the duke, who at the moment was engaged with Robert of Bellême in the siege of Courcy. The siege was immediately abandoned, but the barons, instead of standing with their own ruler against the invader, departed each to his own castle; and presently “almost all the great lords of Normandy” began paying their court to William Rufus, who received them with great cordiality and gave them handsome presents. But the movement in support of the English king was not confined to the barons of Normandy alone. Adventurers from Brittany, France, and Flanders also gathered at Eu to swell the royal forces.[77] Again, as in 1089, Robert in his extreme need appealed to his overlord, the king of France. And again King Philip responded to his call; and together they marched against the invaders at Eu.[78] But apparently there was no serious fighting. Whether William Rufus again contrived to weaken the king’s determination, as he had done on a similar occasion at La Ferté, with a fresh supply of English gold, we have no knowledge. In any case, a peace[79] was soon negotiated between[60] the brothers, apparently at Rouen[80] during the month of February.[81]

The sources are not in complete accord as to the terms of this pacification; but they seem to be mutually supplementary rather than contradictory. Apparently William Rufus smoothed the way for the negotiations with ingentia dona[82]—it always seems to have been beyond the power of Robert Curthose to resist the temptation of such ephemeral advantages—but it was the duke who made the fatal concessions. He gave up the abbey of Fécamp,[83] the counties of Eu and Aumale,[84] and the lands of Gerard of Gournay and Ralph of Conches, together with their strongholds (municipia) and the strongholds of their vassals (subjecti)[85]—in a word, all the lands which the king had won from the duke and had occupied with his adherents on both banks of the Seine in eastern Normandy.[86] Further, in the west the king was to have the important seaport of Cherbourg and the great abbey stronghold of Mont-Saint-Michel,[87] concessions[61] which looked ominous for Henry, count of the Cotentin. On his side, William Rufus pledged himself to help Robert recover the county of Maine,[88] then in revolt against Norman rule, and all Norman lands which the Conqueror had ever held and whose lords were then resisting the duke’s authority, except, of course, the lands just noted which by the terms of the present treaty were ceded to the king.[89] For the benefit of the barons on both sides who had treasonably supported the king or the duke in their recent quarrels, a general amnesty was added. The Norman barons whose defection had brought about the duke’s downfall and whose allegiance was now being transferred to the king, were to occupy their Norman fiefs in peace and to be held guiltless. And all the nobles who had been deprived of their English lands for supporting the duke were now to receive them back.[90] Further, an attempt was made to forestall a possible succession controversy by providing that if either of the brothers should die without a son born in lawful wedlock, the survivor should become sole heir of all his dominions.[91] And finally, in order to give the treaty the most solemn and binding character, it was formally confirmed by the oaths of twelve great barons on behalf of the king and of an equal number on behalf of the duke.[92]

It may, perhaps, be doubted whether William Rufus seriously intended to exert himself to carry out the provisions of this treaty, except in so far as his own interests dictated; although William of Malmesbury affirms that the king and the duke in pursuance of their agreement immediately took in hand the preparation of an expedition against Maine, and were only turned back from it by[62] the disconcerting action of their younger brother, Prince Henry.[93] The details of Henry’s movements after the death of the Conqueror are obscure and uncertain, though the main lines of his policy and conduct seem clear enough. His relations had not been uniformly harmonious with either of his brothers. As has already been pointed out, his early friendship with the duke and his acquisition of the Cotentin had been followed by a period of imprisonment.[94] Apparently, too, Duke Robert, after he had squandered the money which he had obtained from Henry in exchange for the Cotentin, had endeavored to dispossess the young prince of the lands he had granted him, and had only been prevented from so doing by a show of force.[95] It was only a temporary reconciliation which had gained for the duke the important services of Henry during the insurrection at Rouen in November 1090. Fresh misunderstandings soon followed, and Henry was again obliged to retire to his lands in the Cotentin,[96] where he gained the warm friendship of his father’s old vassals, Hugh of Avranches and Richard de Redvers, and devoted himself with energy to the strengthening of his castles at Avranches, Cherbourg, Coutances, and Gavray.[97] With William Rufus, too, he had a quarrel of long standing. The early hopes raised by his visit to the king after the fall of Rochester in 1088[98] had not been fulfilled. The English lands of Matilda to which he laid claim had been granted to Robert Fitz Hamon, and he had been able to obtain no redress.[99] It was even said that he had assisted the duke at Rouen out of a desire for vengeance upon the king.[100] Finally, the treaty of peace which William and Robert had[63] recently concluded was manifestly aimed directly against him. They had planned between themselves for an exclusive partition of all the Conqueror’s dominions, and for a recovery of ducal authority at all points where it was being defied. That obviously meant, among other places, in the Cotentin; and the clauses ceding Mont-Saint-Michel and Cherbourg to William Rufus were not likely to remain a dead letter. Henry realized the menace and protested vigorously against the injustice of a plan to deprive him of all share in the dominions of his glorious father.[101] He collected troops wherever he could find them in Brittany or Normandy, reënforced the defences of Coutances and Avranches with feverish energy, and prepared for war.[102]

Whatever the original destination of the expedition which the duke and the king had prepared, they suddenly turned it against their obstreperous brother who was presuming to resist them, and soon drove him to the last extremity.[103] Henry’s resistance was a forlorn hope from the beginning. Hugh of Avranches and other nobles who had previously been his enthusiastic supporters against the duke, but who had important holdings across the Channel, now prudently reflected that it would be unwise to incur the wrath of William Rufus, and in view of the meagreness of Henry’s resources they discreetly surrendered their strongholds.[104] Thus deserted and overwhelmed on every side, Henry was driven from the mainland; but by favor of some of the monks[105] he gained entrance to the monastery of Mont-Saint-Michel, and there in the famous abbey fortress he determined to make a last stand.

For two weeks, about the middle of Lent,[106] William Rufus and[64] Robert Curthose besieged him.[107] Stretching their forces about the bay of Mont-Saint-Michel from Genêts on the north past Ardevon to the Couesnon on the south, they completely invested the Mount upon the landward side, and, as Henry was without naval resources, this constituted an effective blockade. The duke had his headquarters at Genêts, while the king established himself at Avranches.[108] The scene was enlivened from day to day by the knightly joustings of the opposing forces upon the sandy beach.[109] William Rufus himself was once engaged in these feats of arms to his grave humiliation, being unhorsed by a simple knight.[110] Meanwhile, the besieged garrison was rapidly being reduced to desperate straits. Though the food supply was adequate, there was great lack of water. Manifestly a close maintenance of the blockade would quickly have forced a surrender. But Robert Curthose had too chivalrous a heart to let his brother suffer from thirst. He directed the guards to keep their watch a little carelessly in order that Henry’s servants might occasionally pass through the lines and fetch water.[111] Wace affirms that he even sent Henry a tun of wine.[112] Such chivalrous and impractical generosity was beyond the comprehension of William Rufus, who upbraided the duke and came near disrupting their alliance and withdrawing from the siege.[113] But Henry soon saw the hopelessness of his plight, and, “reflecting upon the changing fortunes[65] of mortals, determined to save himself for better times.” He offered to capitulate upon honorable terms, and William and Robert readily agreed to his proposals, and allowed him to march out with his garrison under arms.[114] Henry’s subsequent fortunes are obscure. Ordericus Vitalis recounts some heroic details of his wanderings and vicissitudes in exile.[115] But it is clear that some definite reconciliation was arranged with his brothers before the end of summer, for early in August we find him crossing with them to England to join in an expedition against the king of Scotland.[116]

Meanwhile, having disposed of the factious opposition of the would-be count of the Cotentin, the allied brothers turned their attention to other problems within the duchy. Ordericus Vitalis affirms that for almost two years after the siege of Mont-Saint-Michel Normandy was free from wars,[117] though it must be confessed that his own more detailed record on other pages does not bear him out in this general assertion. The mere fact, however, that William Rufus had changed from an insidious enemy into an active ally, present in the duchy, was in itself a guarantee of more vigorous government. But more convincing evidence that William and Robert had determined upon a programme of greater rigor in the enforcement of ducal rights, and upon a systematic recovery of the ducal prerogatives which had been usurped by the baronage during the recent disorders, has been preserved in a unique document which records the Norman Consuetudines et Iusticie as they existed under William the Conqueror. On 18 July 1091, the allied brothers assembled the bishops and lay barons at Caen and held a formal inquest into the ducal rights and customs which had prevailed in their father’s lifetime. The prohibition upon the building of adulterine castles, the ducal right to garrison private strongholds and take hostages of their[66] holders, the limitations upon private warfare, all these things and much besides, which had been firm custom in the Conqueror’s time, were now revived and carefully reduced to writing.[118] If these measures were not in exact pursuance of the provisions of the treaty of the previous spring, they certainly were in accord with its spirit. Manifestly a new régime was in contemplation.

Quite unexpectedly, however, these plans for a restoration of public order in Normandy were interrupted by the arrival of news from across the Channel which demanded the immediate presence of the king and his ally in England.[119] Serious disturbances had broken out on the Welsh border, and King Malcolm of Scotland had made a destructive raid into the north of England. The inquest at Caen had been held on 18 July. Early in August, or perhaps even before the end of July,[120] William and Robert, accompanied by Prince Henry,[121] departed for England. So unexpectedly had these changes of plan been made as to provoke general consternation.[122]

Of the king’s campaign against the Welsh we know nothing save that he met with small success,[123] and there is no evidence that Duke Robert played any part in it. It was the Scotch expedition, coming after it, which claimed the interest of contemporary[67] writers. Large preparations were made for a northern war both by land and by sea.[124] But the fleet which was sent northward in September was wrecked a few days before Michaelmas;[125] and the land forces led by the king and the duke were evidently still later in advancing. If we can trust our dating, they did not reach Durham till 14 November.[126] On that day the king formally reinstated William of Saint-Calais in the bishopric of Durham.[127] Then pushing on northward into Lothian,[128] he found that Malcolm had come to meet him with a formidable army. The situation was strikingly like that of eleven years earlier when Robert Curthose at the head of the Conqueror’s forces had crossed the Tweed to avenge King Malcolm’s raid of 1079.[129] The hostile armies stood facing each other, but again there was no battle. And again, as formerly, it was Robert Curthose who procured a peaceful renewal of the Scotch king’s homage. Supported by Edgar Atheling, scion of the old English royal line, who was then with Malcolm’s forces, he undertook negotiations.[130] Malcolm, we are told, was not unmindful of his old friendship for the duke, and even admitted that, at the Conqueror’s bidding, he had done homage to Robert as his eldest son and heir.[131] This obligation he would fully recognize; but to William Rufus, he declared, he owed nothing. This was shrewd diplomacy, but Robert, unmoved[68] by it, tactfully explained that the times had changed; and after some further parley, Malcolm consented to an interview with the English king and to the conclusion of a peace[132] upon the basis of the old agreement which had bound him to the Conqueror. To William Rufus he renewed his homage and received from him a regrant of all his English lands. Florence of Worcester adds that the English king undertook to pay him an annual pension of twelve marks of gold.[133] It was never the way of William Rufus to hazard in battle what he could more surely gain through a politic expenditure of English treasure.

From the meeting with Malcolm in Lothian the allied brothers moved back southward into Wessex.[134] Robert remained in England almost until Christmas. He had rendered important services in the negotiations with Malcolm, and he might justly look to William Rufus for continued friendly coöperation under the terms of the treaty which they had concluded in Normandy the previous spring. But he now discovered that the king’s friendship was “more feigned than real.”[135] William Rufus was no longer minded to abide by the terms of their alliance—probably, that is, he was not willing again to cross the Channel with Robert and assist him in the work of reëstablishing his authority in the lands of Normandy and Maine which had fallen away from their obedience. Accordingly, the duke withdrew in dudgeon, and, taking ship from the Isle of Wight, returned to Normandy, 23 December 1091.[136]

During the four years of Robert’s reign which we have so far passed in review, his attention had been in the main absorbed by his relations with William Rufus, first in an effort to overthrow him and obtain the English crown, then in a struggle to preserve[69] his own duchy from English conquest, and finally in an effort to coöperate with his brother in a friendly alliance which, after drawing him away on distant enterprises, had proved a hollow mockery. During this same period other problems had pressed upon the duke, in the solution of which he had met with little better success. Indeed, the county of Maine had already slipped entirely from his grasp.

The historian of the bishops of Le Mans records that the death of William the Conqueror produced a ferment throughout the whole of Maine;[137] and there is some reason for believing that very early in his reign Robert Curthose had led a Norman army against the Manceaux and had suppressed an incipient rebellion.[138] In the absence of convincing evidence, however, it seems more probable that Maine was not disturbed during the first year of Robert’s rule by more than local disorders, and that his first expedition into the county did not take place until the late summer of 1088. Upon the fall of Rochester and the failure of his attempted invasion of England, the duke—acting, it is said, upon the advice of Odo of Bayeux,[139] who had now returned to Normandy to pursue his restless ambition[140]—assembled an army and determined to march into Maine and assert his authority. Probably the expedition was intended primarily as a formal progress for receiving the homage of the lords of Maine, for the county was disturbed by no general revolt at that time. Robert’s garrison still held the castle of Le Mans securely, and Bishop Hoël and the clergy and people of the city were loyal.[141] Placing[70] Bishop Odo, William of Évreux, Ralph of Conches, and William of Breteuil at the head of his forces, the duke moved southward, apparently in August 1088, and, encountering no opposition, entered Le Mans, where he was received by the clergy and people with demonstrations of loyalty.[142] The great barons, Geoffrey of Mayenne, Robert the Burgundian, and Helias, son of John of La Flèche, whatever their secret feelings, came forward promptly with offers of loyal service.[143] Only Pain de Mondoubleau, collecting his retainers in the castle of Ballon, dared to offer resistance; and early in September[144] he was reduced to submission. Everywhere Robert’s authority appeared to be firmly established;[145] and as he returned to Normandy to wage war against the rebellious house of Talvas, he was able to recruit his army from the Manceaux as well as from the Normans.[146]

Yet the following year there appear to have been fresh disturbances in Maine. By this time Robert had his hands full with the hostile activity of William Rufus and with the growing defection of the Norman barons in the lands east of the Seine; and as he appealed to his overlord, King Philip, for aid in Normandy,[147] so he turned to his other overlord, Fulk le Réchin, for assistance against the Manceaux.[148] If we could accept the hardly credible account of Ordericus Vitalis,[149] Fulk came to visit Robert in Normandy, where he found him convalescing after a serious illness,[71] and revealed to him his passion for Bertrada de Montfort, niece and ward of Robert’s vassal, William of Évreux. If the duke would only gain for him the hand of the beautiful Bertrada, he, Fulk, would keep the Manceaux in obedience. Accordingly, so runs the account, Robert undertook the delicate negotiations for this famous amour. But William of Évreux was far from pliable, and not until the duke had made him enormous concessions[150] did he agree to the marriage of his ward to the notorious count of Anjou. But with such sacrifices the hand of Bertrada was won, and, true to his undertaking, Fulk prevented a revolt of the Manceaux for a year, “rather by prayers and promises than by force.”

In the year 1090, Robert by this time having become still more deeply involved in his struggle with William Rufus, new and far more serious troubles broke out in Maine.[151] Helias of La Flèche, grandson of Herbert Éveille-Chien through his daughter Paula, set up a claim to the county, and in furtherance of his ambition seized the castle of Ballon, which Duke Robert had besieged and taken two years before. Within the city of Le Mans, however, the cause of Helias made little progress, thanks mainly to Bishop Hoël, who remained staunchly loyal to Robert Curthose and used his great influence to keep the citizens true to their allegiance.[152] But when Helias perceived that the bishop was the chief obstacle to his plan of throwing off the Norman yoke, he did not scruple to seize him and hold him in captivity at La Flèche amid circumstances of great indignity. He could hardly have made a greater mistake. So great was Hoël’s popularity that the persecution provoked a remarkable popular demonstration in his favor. Within the city and the suburbs of Le Mans holy images and crosses were laid flat upon the ground, church doors were blockaded with brambles in sign of mourning, bells ceased to ring, and all the customary religious services and solemnities were[72] suspended. Before such a demonstration Helias yielded and set the bishop free.[153]

Meanwhile, Geoffrey of Mayenne and other revolutionaries had brought from Italy a third claimant to the county of Maine in the person of Hugh of Este, another grandson of Herbert Éveille-Chien.[154] And with his arrival, the rebellion made more rapid progress. Helias of La Flèche, forgetful for the moment of his own claims, joined with Geoffrey of Mayenne and other prominent Manceaux in welcoming the new count. Oaths of fealty to Robert Curthose weighed for nothing.[155]

But Bishop Hoël stood firmly against the revolution. His loyalty could not be shaken. Withdrawing from Le Mans, he hastened to Normandy and laid the whole state of affairs before the duke. But Robert was “sunk in sloth and given over to the pursuit of pleasure,” and showed himself little worthy of the bishop’s loyalty and devotion. The rebellion in Maine disturbed him little; and he showed no disposition to act with vigor for its suppression. It was enough, he thought, if he could preserve his right of patronage over the bishopric. He directed the bishop at all costs to avoid making any concessions to the rebels in the matter of patronage, and with no better satisfaction sent him away.[156] Returning to Le Mans, Hoël found Hugh in possession of the city and occupying the episcopal palace. Hugh opened negotiations and tried to persuade the bishop to receive the temporalities of his office as a grant from himself; but Hoël remained true to Duke Robert, and would make no concessions. An agreement proved impossible. Meanwhile Hugh had succeeded in stirring up a formidable faction against the bishop among the clergy. Soon the disorders became so aggravated that Hoël was obliged to retire from his diocese and seek asylum in England, where he[73] received a cordial welcome from William Rufus and remained for some four months.[157] But in the spring of the following year (1091) he returned to his diocese, and, after further controversy, was finally reconciled with Hugh and his enemies among the clergy, and welcomed back to Le Mans amid much ceremony and rejoicing (29-30 June).[158] Apparently he had at last come to regard Duke Robert and his rights with complete indifference.

[74]

But by this time the popularity of Count Hugh had vanished among the Manceaux, who had found him to be “without wealth, sense, or valor.”[159] And when the soft Italian learned that Robert Curthose and William Rufus had composed their difficulties and, as allies, were planning the reëstablishment of Norman rule in Maine,[160] he had no stomach for remaining longer to cope with the difficulties that were gathering around him. A few days after he had made peace with Bishop Hoël, he sold all his rights in Maine to Helias of La Flèche for 10,000 sous manceaux, and departed for Italy.[161] Count Helias now quickly gained the recognition and support of Hoël and of Fulk le Réchin,[162] and became henceforth the sole opponent of Norman rights in Maine. Hard fighting was yet in store for him against William Rufus, and only in the time of Henry I was he to obtain universal recognition; but for the time being his trials were at an end. The plans which William and Robert were maturing for a combined invasion of the county were, as has been seen,[163] suspended by their sudden departure for England in August 1091. And when Robert returned to the Continent, he made, so far as is known, no effort to recover his authority in Maine. Through weakness and inertia he had allowed a splendid territory, which the Conqueror had been at much pains to win, to slip from his hands without striking a blow. Indeed, without any formal abrogation of his rights he seems to have dropped all pretension to ruling in Maine. In four extant charters he bears the title of count or prince of the[75] Manceaux.[164] But they all belong to the early period of his reign (1087-91), and, so far as their evidence goes, it is not clear that he used the title after 1089.

It was not only in his dealings with William Rufus and in his government of Maine that Robert’s reign was one long record of weakness and failure. He showed himself equally incompetent to curb and control the feudal baronage within the duchy. We have already remarked the general expulsion of royal garrisons from baronial castles upon the death of the Conqueror.[165] It is not recorded that Robert made any protest against this, and his own reckless grants of castles to the barons aggravated a situation which had been dangerous from the first. He gave Ivry to William of Breteuil; and for recompense to Roger of Beaumont, who had previously had castle guard at Ivry, he gave Brionne, “a most powerful fortress in the very heart of his duchy.”[166] To William of Breteuil, he also gave Pont-Saint-Pierre, and to William of Évreux, Bavent, Noyon, Gacé, and Gravençon, apparently for no better reason than to gratify Fulk le Réchin in the matter of Bertrada de Montfort and gain his friendly support in Maine.[167] When Robert had reduced Saint-Céneri by a successful siege, he immediately gave it away to Robert Géré,[168] upon whom he later had to make war to compel the destruction of an adulterine castle.[169] He established Gilbert of Laigle at Exmes,[170] and to Helias of Saint-Saëns he granted several strongholds on the east bank of the Seine.[171] The almost independent establishment of Prince Henry in the Cotentin and the Avranchin has been noted elsewhere. Some of these favored barons, it is true, remained faithful to their trusts; but such reckless prodigality meant exhaustion[76] of resources, and too often it meant license for private war, plunder of the unarmed populace, and an open defiance of ducal authority.

Against rebellious barons, the duke could on occasion act with great vigor. In 1088 he threw Robert of Bellême into prison,[172] and accepted the challenge of Roger of Montgomery to a decisive contest. He laid siege to the impregnable stronghold of Saint-Céneri, and when he had reduced it by starvation, he blinded Robert Quarrel, the castellan, and had other members of the garrison condemned to mutilation by judgment of his curia.[173] He also imprisoned Robert of Meulan for factious opposition to the grant of Ivry to William of Breteuil; and, in the sequel of this controversy, between three in the afternoon and sunset, he took Brionne by assault, a great fortress which it had taken the Conqueror three years to reduce with the aid of the king of France.[174]

But with all this fitful energy, the duke’s love of ease and his desire ‘to sleep under a roof’ called him home too often in mid-campaign.[175] He lacked the resolution to carry a difficult and laborious enterprise through to the end. Seeking mere temporary advantages, he was prone to adopt the easy but fatal expedient of allying himself with the turbulent barons whose lawlessness it should have been his first concern to curb. Upon the fall of Saint-Céneri he seemed to be in mid-course of victory over the notorious house of Talvas. The shocking punishment visited upon the surrendered garrison had caused fear and consternation to spread among the supporters of Roger of Montgomery. The garrisons of Bellême and Alençon are said to have been ready to surrender at the mere approach of the ducal forces. Yet to the general amazement the war went no further. The duke suddenly[77] made peace with Roger and released Robert of Bellême from captivity.[176]

And the peace then made with the rebel was a lasting one. Not again, until after his return from the Crusade, did the duke fight against Robert of Bellême. Evidently he had decided that in his future difficulties it would be better to have the house of Talvas for him rather than against him. Not a check was placed hereafter by the duke upon this most notorious tyrant of the age. Robert of Bellême was “a subtle genius, crafty and deceitful.” His ability challenged admiration. But his cruelty, avarice, and lawlessness knew no bounds. Plundering and oppressing all over whom he had power, he came to be regarded by contemporaries as the veritable incarnation of Satan.[177] He built a castle in a dominating position at Fourches, and forcibly transferred the inhabitants of Vignats thither. He also erected Château-Gontier in a strong position on the Orne, and thus placed his yoke upon the district of Le Houlme.[178] Against Geoffrey of Mortagne he waged a war for the possession of Domfront.[179] He did not hesitate to besiege Gilbert of Laigle, the duke’s loyal vassal, at Exmes.[180] His intolerable violence drew down upon him a concerted attack by his neighbors in the Hiémois. But he was able to bring the duke to his aid and to besiege his enemies at Courcy, in January 1091.[181] Later he waged a successful war against Robert Géré of Saint-Céneri and a formidable combination of the lords of Maine. Again on this occasion he gained the assistance of the duke, and so compelled the destruction of a castle which Géré was attempting to fortify at Montaigu.[182] He was said to be the possessor of thirty-four strong castles,[183] and he was, perhaps, more powerful than the duke himself. Indeed, in his dealings with the duke the relation of lord and vassal seems at times almost to have been inverted, as when Robert Curthose acted as his ally in private warfare.

One might perhaps suppose that considerations of policy led the duke to adopt a conciliatory attitude towards Robert of Bellême,[78] his most powerful subject. But in his dealings with other barons Robert showed himself equally weak and vacillating. He made no effort to check the long and desperate war by which William of Breteuil was seeking to bring his rebellious vassal, Ascelin Goël, back to his allegiance.[184] Indeed, he sought rather to gain some temporary financial advantage from it. When Ascelin, in defiance of feudal right and honor, seized Ivry, the castle of his lord, Robert did not scruple to take it from him and to compel William of Breteuil to redeem it by a payment of 1500 livres.[185] And a little later he took the other side in the struggle, and, in exchange for ‘large sums’ joined with Robert of Bellême, King Philip of France, and other hirelings whom William of Breteuil was gathering from every quarter, in the overthrow of Ascelin at the siege of Bréval.[186] When a bitter feud broke out between William of Évreux and Ralph of Conches, Robert sought to avoid becoming involved in the struggle. But his failure to respond to the appeal of the lord of Conches merely drove the latter into the arms of William Rufus.[187]

The expulsion of Prince Henry from the Cotentin and the Avranchin after the siege of Mont-Saint-Michel had been no lasting victory for the duke. In 1092 Henry suddenly reappeared in western Normandy in secure possession of the town and castle of Domfront. The inhabitants had revolted against the intolerable oppression of Robert of Bellême, and, recalling Henry from exile, had accepted him as their lord.[188] Secure in the possession of this impregnable stronghold, Henry set himself to recover the lands from which he had been expelled and to establish himself in an independent position in the southwest. He defied Robert of Bellême,[189] and made war upon the duke with much burning, pillage, and violence.[190] With the aid of Earl[79] Hugh of Chester, to whom he gave the castle of Saint-James, and of Richard de Redvers, Roger de Mandeville, and others, he gradually won back the greater part of the Cotentin.[191]

The pages of Ordericus Vitalis are filled with lamentations over the evil times that had fallen upon the duchy. Through the indolence of a soft and careless duke all that the Conqueror had created by his vigor and ability was allowed to fall into decay and confusion. The whole province was in a state of dissolution. Bands of freebooters overran villages and country, and plundered the unarmed peasantry. The church’s possessions were wrung from her by force. Monasteries were filled with desolation, and the monks and nuns were reduced to penury. Adulterine castles arose on every hand to become the dens of robbers who ravaged the countryside with fire and sword. A depopulated country remained for years afterwards a silent witness to the evil day.[192]

That the indignant outbursts of Ordericus Vitalis are not mere rhetoric, is amply proved by a more prosaic narrative of the nuns of La Trinité of Caen.[193] In the cartulary of their abbey they have tersely recorded the long list of their injuries and losses in men and revenues and lands and cattle. “After the death of King William,” they say, “William, count of Évreux, took from Holy Trinity and from the abbess and the nuns seven arpents of vineyard and two horses and twenty sous of the coinage of Rouen and the salt pans at Écrammeville and twenty livres annually from Gacé and from Bavent. Richard, son of Herluin, took the two manors of Tassilly and Montbouin. William the chamberlain, son of Roger de Candos, took the tithe of Hainovilla. William Baivel took twenty oxen which he had seized at Auberville. Robert de Bonebos plundered the same manor …;” and so the complaint continues through a long list of some thirty offenders, among them such well known names as Richard de Courcy, William Bertran, and Robert Mowbray. Even Prince Henry takes his place in this remarkable catalogue of sinners. It is a[80] little startling to learn that in his government of the Cotentin he was not altogether worthy of the polite compliments which have been paid him by the chroniclers. The nuns complain that he “took toll (pedagium) from Quettehou and from all the Cotentin, and forced the men of Holy Trinity in the said vill and county to work upon the castles of his men.” It is significant that in this extraordinary entry in the Caen cartulary the record of violations of right stands alone. We hear nothing of suits for the recovery of the alienated lands and goods. The distressed nuns appear to have been patiently preserving the record of their grievances against the day when there should be a government and courts to which they could appeal with some prospect of obtaining redress.

Indeed, orderly government and the regular operation of courts of law seem to have been suspended almost entirely during Robert’s reign. With the exception of a fragment of a charter of donation in favor of Saint-Vincent of Le Mans,[194] no single record of an administrative or judicial act by the duke for Maine has been preserved. And for Normandy we have nothing but a few scattered references to the curia ducis[195] and one imperfect record of a suit before that court in 1093.[196] The study of Robert’s charters, which have now at last been collected and set in order,[197] reveals a state of disorder and of irregularity hardly conceivable so soon after the reign of the Conqueror. The duke had a chancellor and evidently some semblance of a centralized administration. Yet the chancery seems hardly ever to have performed the most common functions of such an office, viz., the issuing of ducal charters. Most of Robert’s acts were drawn up locally and according to the prevailing forms of the religious houses in whose favor they were issued. Evidence of any systematic taxation is wholly lacking; and the extent to which Robert was neglectful of ducal customs and rights of justice stands patently revealed by the inquest of Caen, held when, for a moment, with the assistance[81] of William Rufus, a more vigorous régime was in contemplation.[198] Rare occasions when the duke asserted himself to compel the destruction of an adulterine castle[199] or the submission of a refractory noble stand out as wholly exceptional in a reign of weakness, indifference, and indecision.[200]

It was, of course, the clergy who suffered most from this reign of lawlessness and who were at the same time able to make their woes articulate. The lamentful narrative of Ordericus Vitalis and the bare record of the nuns of Caen have already been sufficiently dwelt upon. Yet it should in justice be noted that Robert Curthose was not a wilful oppressor of the church. He was no impious tyrant such as William Rufus or Ranulf Flambard. His offences against the clergy were rather the sins of weakness than of malice. His sale of lay rights over the sees of Coutances and Avranches to Prince Henry[201] when he was preparing for the invasion of England was doubtless dictated by the sudden needs of the moment. So, too, in 1089 he granted the manor of Gisors, a property of the church of St. Mary of Rouen, to his overlord, King Philip, “non habens de proprio quod posset dare.”[202] On the other hand, the duke often acted in a perfectly just and cordial coöperation with the clergy. There is every indication of harmony in the relations between Robert and the bishops and abbots at the synod held at Rouen in June 1091, for the election of Serlo as bishop of Séez.[203] So, too, soon after, he gave his willing assent to the election of Roger du Sap as abbot of Saint-Évroul, and “committed to him by the pastoral staff the care of the monastery in worldly affairs.”[204] So, also, upon the election of Anselm, abbot of Bec, as archbishop of Canterbury, he gladly consented to his resignation of the abbey,[205] and afterwards entirely accommodated himself to Anselm’s wishes with regard to his successor at Bec. There is a note of real affection in[82] the words with which Anselm in a letter to the prior and monks of Bec refers to Robert on this occasion: “By the grace of God, our lord the prince of the Normans has sent me a most kindly letter asking pardon if his love of me and his sorrow at my loss have caused him to think or say of me anything unseemly because of my election to the archiepiscopate. In the same letter he has graciously sought my counsel concerning the appointment of an abbot for you, and has promised to accept it gladly not only in this matter but in other things as well.”[206]

Of the duke’s relations with the papacy in this period we know almost nothing, except that his attitude, on the whole, was one of obedience and accommodation. The violence which Robert had done to the property of St. Mary of Rouen in granting the manor of Gisors to King Philip caused Archbishop William to lay the whole province under an interdict. This, in turn, brought on a controversy between the archbishop and the abbey of Fécamp, and in the sequel the Pope suspended the metropolitan from the use of his pallium for having exceeded his authority. At this point the duke intervened, and at the expense of acknowledging himself subject to the jurisdiction of the apostolic see, “saving only the privileges of his ancestors,” he obtained for the archbishop at least a temporary restoration of his pallium, while further investigations were pending.[207] The church and clergy often suffered from Robert’s weakness, or his sudden temptation to gain some temporary advantage, but rarely, if ever, from his ill will.

Inexcusable weakness and the steady disintegration of ducal authority, either through his own rash grants, or through the[83] usurpations of his turbulent subjects, or through the insidious aggressions of William Rufus, these are the outstanding features of Duke Robert’s unfortunate reign.

Two days before Christmas, 1091, Robert had departed from England and returned to Normandy, feeling much vexed because the Red King would not abide by the terms of their alliance.[208] Yet an open breach between the brothers was long delayed. William Rufus had his hands full with domestic affairs in 1092 and 1093, and he had little opportunity either for advancing his own interests in Normandy or for aiding the duke against his enemies as he had agreed to do. Robert, on his part, so far as can be seen, did not fail in his obligations under the provisions of the treaty. In the reservation which he attached to a grant to the abbey of Bec in February 1092 he was careful to guard the rights of William Rufus as well as of himself.[209] The readiness with which he accommodated himself to the king’s wishes in releasing Anselm, abbot of Bec, to become archbishop of Canterbury in 1093 is indicative of a similar spirit of coöperation. But it appears that he sought in vain the king’s promised assistance in Normandy until his patience was exhausted; and when, finally, the rupture came between them, it was the duke who took the initiative in terminating an agreement from which he could no longer hope to derive any good. Towards the close of 1093, he addressed to William Rufus a formal defiance. “This year at Christmas,” says the Chronicler, “King William held his court at Gloucester; and there came messengers to him out of Normandy, from his brother Robert, and they said that his brother renounced all peace and compact if the king would not perform all that they had stipulated in the treaty; moreover they called him perjured and faithless unless he would perform the conditions, or would go to the place where the treaty had been concluded and sworn to, and there clear himself.”[210]

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In the spring of 1094, William Rufus took up this challenge and prepared for an invasion of Normandy. It is characteristic of the Red King that we hear more of the vast quantities of money which he gathered in from all sides than of the men whom he brought together for the expedition. The barons were called upon to contribute heavily to the expenses of the campaign, and strong pressure was put upon them in order to insure that their offerings should not be too sparing. Archbishop Anselm thought to make a contribution of five hundred pounds of silver, but the king rejected his offer as being too small.[211] On 2 February the forces were assembled at Hastings for the crossing.[212] But the winds were contrary and the expedition was delayed for more than a month,[213] and it did not succeed in sailing till Midlent.[214]

After the landing in Normandy, active hostilities were still further delayed by negotiations. William and Robert met in a conference, but a reconciliation proved impossible between them. Then a more formal meeting was held at an unidentified place called Campus Martius, and the dispute was laid before the great nobles who had confirmed the earlier treaty with their oaths. Unanimously they gave their decision in favor of the duke and laid the whole responsibility for the present discord upon the king. But William Rufus, ‘a fierce king,’ would have none of their condemnation. He would not accept responsibility for the breach, neither would he abide by the terms of the treaty. The conference was accordingly broken off, and the brothers separated in wrath, the king going to his headquarters at Eu, the duke to Rouen.[215]

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Then, or more likely even before this, William Rufus turned to that brand of diplomacy in which he was so eminently skilful and which had gained him such successes in his earlier Norman policy. With the treasure which he had brought from England, he began to collect great numbers of mercenaries; and also, by lavish expenditure of gold and silver, and by grants and promises of Norman lands, he succeeded in corrupting more of the Norman baronage and in winning them away from their allegiance to the duke. And as rapidly as he gained possession of their strongholds he filled them with garrisons upon whom he could rely.[216] But he was not content with mere diplomacy and bribery. He also took the field, and laying siege to Bures, a castle of Helias of Saint-Saëns, he reduced it, and took many of the duke’s men captive.[217]

But meanwhile, Robert had not been idle, and the success of his operations suggests that he had not ventured to defy William Rufus without making greater preparations than have been recorded by the contemporary writers. As he had done previously when confronted with an English invasion, he brought in his overlord, King Philip, and a French army.[218] Philip and Robert appear to have opened their campaign in the south and west of Normandy with two remarkable victories. Philip invested Argentan,[219] and, on the very first day of the siege, Roger le Poitevin[86] and an enormous garrison of seven hundred knights and fourteen hundred esquires surrendered without any blood being shed, and were held by the king to ransom. Soon after, the duke won a victory of almost equal importance by the reduction of Le Homme and the capture of William Peverel and a garrison of eight hundred knights.[220]

These reverses came as a staggering surprise to William Rufus. Immediately he sent off to England and ordered the assembling of a great army of English foot soldiers—some twenty thousand, it is said—for the invasion of Normandy. But when they came to Hastings for the crossing, Ranulf Flambard, at the king’s order, took from each of them the ten shillings that he had brought for maintenance during the campaign; and then sent them back home, while he forwarded the money to William Rufus in Normandy.[221] The king had need of this fresh supply of English treasure. For by this time Philip and Robert, after their double victory in the south and west, were advancing on William’s headquarters at Eu,[222] in the very heart of the district which he had controlled since 1089 or 1090. But at Longueville King Philip halted.[223] William Rufus had found a way to repeat the measure which had turned the French king back from La Ferté in 1089, if not from Eu in 1091. “There was the king of France turned back by craft, and all the expedition was afterwards dispersed.”[224] Again the resources of Duke Robert had proved unequal to the greater stores of English treasure which the Red King was able to command.[225]

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Yet the strength of Robert’s resistance was by no means broken. William Rufus sent to Domfront to call Prince Henry to his aid, and such was Robert’s strength that it proved impossible for Henry to make his way by land to Eu. The king sent ships to fetch him.[226] But instead of proceeding to Eu, he crossed the Channel, and, landing at Southampton at the end of October, he went to London for Christmas, evidently with a view to meeting the king upon his return from the Continent.[227] Meanwhile, William Rufus remained in Normandy almost to the end of the year. But clearly he met with no great success in his projects. He had spent vast sums of money, yet little or nothing had come of it—so ran the contemporary judgment: “Infecto itaque negotio, in Angliam reversus est.”[228] On 29 December he crossed from Wissant to Dover.[229]

The progress of the Norman war in 1095 is obscure in the extreme. The king’s whole attention was absorbed by pressing affairs within the limits of his own realm; and he seems to have committed his continental interests almost wholly to Prince Henry. Henry remained in England until Lent, and then crossed over to Normandy ‘with great treasure’; and during the months which followed, he waged war against Duke Robert.[230] But in what part of the duchy, or how, or with what success, we have no information.

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The close of the year 1095 saw Robert Curthose in a difficult situation, but the issue of the contest had not yet been decided. Meanwhile, the famous sermon of Pope Urban II before the council of Clermont had thrilled all Europe with a new impulse and turned the course of Robert’s life into a new and unexpected channel.