Chapter V · FAILURE TO GAIN THE ENGLISH CROWN

While Robert Curthose was loitering in southern Italy, enjoying the hospitality of Norman friends and kinsmen, events of immense importance for him were taking place beyond the Alps. On 2 August 1100 William Rufus was slain while hunting in the New Forest.[1] News of the tragedy quickly reached the ears of Henry Beauclerc, his younger brother, who was a member of the royal party; and without a moment’s delay he put spurs to his horse and galloped away to Winchester, the seat of the royal treasury, and as lawful heir (genuinus haeres) imperiously demanded the keys of the keepers. But the interests and the superior claims of Robert Curthose did not go undefended in that hour. William of Breteuil, son of William Fitz Osbern, had also been a member of the king’s hunting party; and foreseeing Henry’s design, he had ridden hard upon his heels to Winchester. Arriving upon the scene before Henry had gained possession of the treasure, he protested that Robert’s rights should be respected. Robert, he declared, was beyond a doubt the Conqueror’s eldest son; Henry had done him homage and sworn fealty to him as his lord; Robert had long labored in the Lord’s service on the Crusade; and now God was restoring to him, as if by miracle, the duchy which he had relinquished for the love of Heaven. But Henry was not to be balked in his purpose by any such scruples. The crowd which had gathered to witness the altercation clearly favored “the present heir who was claiming his right”; and with such encouragement, Henry drew his sword and exclaimed that he would never permit a “foreigner,” through “frivolous delays,” to anticipate him in grasping the sceptre of his father. Then friends and prudent counsellors intervened to allay the dissensions, and, without any serious rupture, the supporters of the duke gave way, and the castle and the royal hoard were handed over to Henry.[2] In that moment Robert Curthose lost a kingdom.

The rapidity with which events now moved forward, and the intelligence and sureness of judgment which were introduced into the direction of affairs, are highly indicative of the character and determination of the man who had grasped the helm. “On Thursday he [William Rufus] was slain, and on the morning after buried; and after he was buried, those of the council who were nigh at hand chose his brother Henry for king; and he straightways gave the bishopric of Winchester to William Giffard, and then went to London; and on the Sunday after, before the altar at Westminster, promised to God and all the people to put down all the injustices that were in his brother’s time; and to maintain the best laws that stood in any king’s day before him. And then, after that, the bishop of London, Maurice, hallowed him king; and all in this land submitted to him and swore oaths and became his men.”[3] “And that nothing might be wanting to the aggregate of happiness, Ranulf, the dregs of iniquity, was cast into the gloom of a prison, and speedy messengers were despatched to recall Anselm.”[4] The news of the king’s death had, it may be supposed, taken Henry entirely unawares. Yet within less than four days he had surmounted all the difficulties connected with the seizure of the kingdom and had sketched out the programme of a reign. To Robert’s claim of primogeniture he had opposed the fact that he alone had been born within the realm of England and the son of a king and queen.[5] The very real argument that Robert was still far away, and that his return could not be awaited without grave peril to the nation, was also doubtless used with telling effect.[6] The appointment of William Giffard to the vacant see of Winchester, the recall of Anselm, and the imprisonment of the infamous Ranulf Flambard, the chief oppressor of the late reign, were all measures calculated to announce in unmistakable terms to church and clergy that the evils from which they had suffered under William Rufus were at an end.[7] And the issue of the famous Charter of Liberties, in direct connection with the coronation, was a proclamation to the nation that better days were at hand.[8] Its publication in the counties must in some cases have brought almost the first news of the tyrant’s death and of the inauguration of the new reign. But not content with these measures, Henry took another step well calculated to strengthen his hold upon the affections of his English subjects. Giving up ‘meretricious pleasures,’ he married Matilda, “daughter of Malcolm, king of Scotland, and of the good queen Margaret, King Edward’s kinswoman, of the true royal line of England.”[9] The marriage was solemnized on Martinmas (11 November). At Christmas, Henry gained the tacit recognition of his royal title among the crowned heads of Europe. With King Philip’s full permission, Louis, the king designate of France, paid him a state visit with a distinguished suite, and was received with fitting honors at Westminster.[10] But this was not only an indication that Henry had been received into the society of kings, it was an earnest of the cordial relations which were to prevail between the French and English courts until the critical years of the new reign had passed. The triumph of Henry’s clear-cut, far-seeing policy could hardly have been more complete. There were rocks ahead, but at least he had made the vessel seaworthy, and with firm and careful steering he might hope to avoid all perils.

Henry I had good reason for acting with precipitate haste in making sure his hold upon the English crown, for the rumor ran that his elder brother was returning from Italy, and was already close at hand. The king had well grounded fears that unless he made his position absolutely secure the English barons might repent of their decision and withdraw their allegiance.[11]

Robert Curthose was probably already on his way home from southern Italy when William Rufus came to his tragic end in the New Forest. Late in August, or early in September,[12] he arrived in Normandy with his newly won bride, the beautiful Sibyl of Conversano, and was joyfully welcomed by his subjects.[13] Without encountering any opposition, he entered into full possession of his duchy,[14] “except the castles which were occupied by King Henry’s men, against which he had many onsets and contests.”[15]

There were many reasons for the cordial welcome which Normandy extended her duke upon his return from the Crusade. The old evils and abuses of his earlier reign had doubtless largely been forgotten, while the rule of William Rufus, who had “trampled Normandy under his feet”[16] by reason of his warlike undertakings and the extreme rigor of his justice,[17] had prepared men’s minds for a milder régime. Robert’s long labors in the Holy War had brought him much prestige and made him a European figure. The charms of his fair Italian bride[18] struck the imagination of the people. Moreover, the death of the late king had been followed by a fresh outburst of private war in Normandy;[19] and the return of the legitimate duke, ‘as if by miracle,’ offered at least a hope of the restoration of peace and order. But most important of all, the critical state of English affairs left Henry I no time or resources to turn his attention to the Continent; and, except in so far as his garrisons might still hold out at Domfront and in the Cotentin, he was powerless to prevent the restoration.

If Robert’s absence during the critical days of early August had been fatal to his cause in England, the unexpected death of the late king had nevertheless been his rare good fortune, so far as the recovery of Normandy was concerned. Men saw in it the hand of God exercised on behalf of the crusader.[20] Probably William Rufus had never intended to restore the Norman duchy upon Robert’s return from the Crusade.[21] In any case, Robert could not have hoped to recover it except by repayment of the loan for which it had been pledged. Indeed, we know that while in Italy, by means of his wife’s dowry and through the gifts of friends, he had taken pains to provide himself with funds for the redemption of the duchy.[22] But the tragedy in the New Forest had obviated this unpleasant necessity. Joyfully welcomed home, the weary crusader entered into possession of his dominions without the repayment of a single penny.

Robert’s first acts upon his return to Normandy are eminently characteristic, and they contrast strangely with the unparallelled energy and decision with which Henry was pressing forward to his goal in England. Far from giving his undivided attention to the grave problems of his distracted state, he went with his wife on pilgrimage to Mont-Saint-Michel to render thanks to God and the archangel for his safe return from the Crusade.[23] Then, if Wace may be trusted, he went to Caen to visit his sister, Abbess Cecilia of La Trinité, and presented her church with a splendid Saracen banner which he had captured in the Holy War.[24]

While Robert was indulging in devotions and ceremonial and Henry was absorbed in the affairs of his kingdom, events in Maine were rapidly approaching a crisis which was to prove fatal to Norman dominion in the county. During Robert’s absence on the Crusade, William Rufus had reasserted with the utmost vigor, but with questionable success, the Norman claim to rule in Maine. Against him Helias of La Flèche had maintained a stubborn resistance. And although towards the end of the Red King’s reign he had been forced to retire beyond the frontier into his own strongholds farther south, no sooner did he receive word of the king’s death than he pushed forward again and recovered Le Mans. But the citadel with its Norman garrison still held out against him, and, obtaining reënforcements from Fulk le Réchin, his Angevin overlord, Helias began to besiege it.

The events which followed are a perfect illustration of the prevailing ideas of the feudal age. The commanders of the Norman garrison had been set to guard the castle of Le Mans by their lord, William Rufus, who was now dead. And there was a question as to who was his legitimate successor, and, therefore, as to whom they now owed allegiance. Obtaining a truce from Helias, they sent to both Robert and Henry to seek aid or instructions. Going first to Robert, their messenger found him “broken by the hardships of his long pilgrimage, and preferring the quiet of the couch to warlike exertions.” The plight of the Norman garrison at Le Mans and the prospective loss of a county moved him little. “I am wearied with long labor,” he is reported to have said, “and my duchy of Normandy is enough for me. Moreover, the barons of England are inviting me to cross the sea and are prepared to receive me as their king.” Robert, therefore, advised the commanders of the garrison to make an honorable peace. Getting no satisfaction from the duke, the envoy hastened to England to ask aid of the king. But Henry was engrossed in the affairs of his realm—which Robert’s return had rendered critical—and he prudently decided not to embark upon a hazardous foreign enterprise at that time. He thanked the Norman commanders at Le Mans for their loyalty and consideration, but sent their messenger away empty. And when they had thus “laudably proved their fidelity,” they surrendered the citadel to Helias of La Flèche, late in October, and marched out with the honors of war.[25]

So ended the Norman domination in Maine. Helias of La Flèche was now completely master of the county; and the betrothal of Eremburg, his only daughter, to the oldest son of Fulk le Réchin paved the way for its later union with Anjou. Not until an Angevin count should succeed to the Norman duchy were the two territories again to be brought under a single ruler.

It has been suggested that Henry I, while declining to aid the Norman garrison at Le Mans, was already secretly negotiating with Helias of La Flèche with a view to obtaining his aid against Robert Curthose.[26] But there is no evidence of any such negotiations; and since it is not until several years later that Maine and Anjou appear as active supporters of the king against the duke, this hypothesis seems unwarrantable. In the autumn of 1100, Henry was in no position to interfere in continental affairs. He showed his wisdom and his sense of proportion in allowing Maine to go its way, while he dealt with the more pressing problem of the investiture controversy with Anselm and the papacy and prepared to frustrate the projects of disaffected subjects who were already plotting his overthrow. The interests of Robert Curthose in Maine, on the other hand, were more immediate, and Ordericus Vitalis charges his inaction to his habitual indolence. But the real cause of his indifference, it seems, was the fact that visions of a second Norman conquest of England were already floating before his unstable mind. Within a few months he was fairly launched in preparations for an invasion of the island kingdom and an attempt to gain the English crown.

As soon as Robert’s return from the Crusade became known in England, “almost all the magnates of the land violated the fealty which they had sworn”[27] and entered into secret negotiations for his elevation to the English throne.[28] Robert of Bellême and his two brothers Roger and Arnulf, William of Warenne, Walter Giffard, Ivo of Grandmesnil, and Robert, son of Ilbert de Lacy, were the chief conspirators.[29] Accepting their proposals with alacrity, Robert Curthose promptly relapsed into all the old extravagant practices which had impoverished him and stripped him of his inherited dominions during his earlier reign. To Robert of Bellême he granted the castle of Argentan, the forest of Gouffern, and lucrative rights attaching to the bishopric of Séez.[30] Upon others he squandered the treasure which he had brought back with him from Italy, while to others still he made extravagant promises to be fulfilled out of the spoils of England.[31] Yet it is doubtless an exaggeration which pictures the king as deserted by ‘almost all the magnates of the land.’ Some of the ablest and most powerful of the barons remained loyal, among them Count Robert of Meulan and his brother Henry of Beaumont, earl of Warwick, Robert Fitz Hamon, Richard de Redvers, Roger Bigot,[32] and probably many others of less note.

During the autumn and winter the conspiracy smouldered, causing the king no small concern. In his letter to Anselm immediately after his coronation, Henry directed him in returning to England to avoid Normandy and travel by way of Wissant and Dover.[33] And in his negotiations with Anselm after his arrival in England (23 September 1100), he showed great anxiety lest the archbishop should go over to the support of Robert, from whom at that time it would have been easy to get full assurances on the question of investitures.[34] Clearly the king regarded the situation as critical; yet an invasion was hardly to be feared before the following spring or summer.

It was in the spring that an untoward incident occurred, which contributed not a little to bring the conspiracy to a head and to precipitate the invasion. On 2 February 1101, Ranulf Flambard, ‘the dregs of iniquity,’ escaped from the Tower of London and fled to Normandy.[35] Going straight to the duke, he was received with favor, and, if we may rely upon Ordericus Vitalis, he was charged with the administration of the duchy.[36] Henceforth, the sources picture him as the chief instigator of the attack upon England. Doubtless his well known talents were turned to good account in the equipment of a fleet and in the assembling of the “no small multitude of knights, archers, and foot soldiers” which was gathered at Tréport ready for the crossing.[37]

Meanwhile, in England, the Pentecostal court (9 June) was thrown into consternation by the news of an imminent invasion.[38] The curia was honeycombed with treason, and king and magnates regarded one another with mutual suspicion. Not knowing how far the conspiracy had spread, Henry was in terror of a general desertion by the barons. They, on the other hand, feared an increase of royal power and the summary vengeance that would fall upon them as traitors after the restoration of peace. At this juncture, all discussion of the investiture controversy was set aside, and king and barons alike turned to Archbishop Anselm as the one man whose character commanded universal confidence and who, by his position as primate of England, was constitutionally qualified to act as mediator in such a crisis. Apparently the nobles and people renewed their allegiance by a general oath; and the king, on his part, extending his hand to the archbishop as the representative of his subjects, “promised that so long as he lived he would govern the realm with just and holy laws.”[39]

When this mutual exchange of assurances had somewhat cleared the air, already thick with treason, the king proceeded with his accustomed vigor to take measures to thwart the impending attack. He sent ships to sea to head off the hostile fleet. He gathered an army from all parts of the realm, and, marching to Pevensey “at midsummer,” he pitched a permanent camp there and awaited the invasion.[40] Anselm joined the levy with the knights due from his fief;[41] but the archbishop’s services were mainly moral rather than military.

As the duke’s forces for the invasion were being assembled at Tréport, not far from Saint-Valery—the port from which the Conqueror’s fleet had sailed in 1066—it was but natural to expect that a landing would again be attempted at Pevensey. A different plan, however, was adopted. Buscarls whom Henry had sent to sea to head off the invasion were corrupted—through the contrivance of Ranulf Flambard, it is said[42]—and, deserting the royal cause, accepted service with the duke as pilots of his fleet.[43] With such guides the invaders easily avoided the ships which the king had sent out against them, and sailing past Pevensey, where the royal forces were awaiting them, they landed safely at Portsmouth (21 July),[44] and were welcomed by their confederates within the kingdom.[45] Sending a defiance to the king,[46] Robert advanced upon Winchester, the seat of the royal treasury and the chief administrative centre of the realm, and pitched his camp in a strong position. Apparently he meant to attack the city;[47] but such a plan, if entertained, was quickly abandoned, and Robert turned towards London and advanced as far as the forest of Alton.[48]

It was a trying moment for the king, and the chroniclers describe in moving terms the terrors which he suffered.[49] Almost despairing of his kingdom, they declare, he feared even for his life.[50] The successful landing of the invaders had given the signal for further desertions among the disaffected barons.[51] Many who until this moment had maintained the appearance of loyalty now openly aligned themselves with the duke, seeking to cloak their infamous conduct by demanding unjust and impossible concessions from the king. To this number belong Robert of Bellême and William of Warenne,[52] who clearly had been among the chief conspirators from the beginning, and probably also William of Mortain, earl of Cornwall.[53] Robert of Meulan, who on every occasion remained faithful to the king, was for paying these base traitors in their own coin. He urged the king to conciliate them, “to indulge them as a father indulges his children,” to grant all their requests, even though they demanded London and York. When the storm had been weathered, he insinuated, the king might visit condign punishment upon them and reclaim the domains which they had wrung from him in his hour of need.[54]

But in this dire hour Henry found a more powerful supporter in Anselm. As treason thickened around the king, he placed his trust in almost no one except the archbishop.[55] Their quarrel over investitures was no longer allowed to stand between them. Eadmer affirms that Henry gave up his whole contention in that matter, and promised henceforth to obey the decrees and commands of the apostolic see.[56] And with such assurances Anselm threw himself heart and soul into the royal cause. Privately he undertook to inspire the disloyal barons whom the king brought before him with a holy fear of violating their plighted faith.[57] But he went further. Mounting a pulpit in the midst of the host, he harangued the forces upon their obligation to abide by their sworn allegiance. His voice was like the blast of a trumpet calling the multitude to arms. Raising their voices, they pledged their goods and their loyalty to the king, upon condition that he put away the evil customs which had come in with William Rufus and that he keep good laws.[58]

Thus the church and the English people stood firmly behind the king,[59] and many of the barons who at first had contemplated desertion seem to have been held back by the strong personal influence of the archbishop. And, with such support, Henry moved forward to intercept the invaders,[60] and came face to face with them at Alton.[61] Yet no battle ensued:

In this happy couplet Wace has described the situation exactly. In spite of a very fortunate beginning, resolution failed the duke and his supporters when it came to pressing their advantage home.[63] The king, too, notwithstanding the disaffection among his barons, had been able to muster a formidable army. Probably the desertions from the royal cause had been less numerous than Robert and his supporters had anticipated.[64] The battle, if joined, would certainly be a bloody one. And, on his side, the king was in no position to force the issue: the loyalty of a considerable portion of his army was too doubtful. Moreover, it was no part of Henry’s character to seek by arms what he could achieve by diplomacy, a sphere in which he enjoyed a far greater superiority. The chief supporters of both sides also hesitated. A fratricidal war was as little attractive to the barons, whose families were divided between the two opposing forces, as it was to the two brothers who were the principals in the contest.[65] And so saner counsels prevailed, and leading barons from each side opened negotiations for peace.[66]

The text of the treaty which resulted has not come down to us in documentary form, but it is possible to reconstruct its terms with some fulness from the narrative sources. Robert gave up all claim to the English crown, released Henry from the homage which he had done him on an earlier occasion—probably upon the receipt of the Cotentin in 1088—and recognized his royal title and dignity.[67] It was not considered fitting that an English king should remain the vassal of a Norman duke. On his side, the king undertook to pay Robert an annual subsidy of 3000 marks of silver[68] and to surrender all his holdings in Normandy except the great stronghold of Domfront.[69] Long years before, when Henry had been a wandering exile, his fortunes at their lowest, the men of Domfront had voluntarily called him in and made him their lord; and on taking possession of their town and castle he had solemnly sworn never to abandon them. The binding force of this oath was now invoked as a pretext for the king’s retention of a solitary outpost in Robert’s dominions. An amnesty provision was added for the benefit of the barons with holdings on both sides of the Channel who by supporting one of the brothers had jeopardized their interests with the other. Robert undertook to restore all Norman honors which he had taken from the king’s supporters;[70] and Henry promised the restoration of all English lands which he had seized from partisans of the duke.[71] A special clause, of which we would gladly know the full significance, provided that Count Eustace of Boulogne should have “his paternal lands in England.”[72] Further, it was agreed that, if either of the brothers should die before the other and leave no lawful heir, the survivor should succeed to his dominions whether in England or in Normandy.[73]

So far the provisions of the treaty seem reasonably certain. The remainder are more doubtful. Ordericus Vitalis asserts—and his whole defence of Henry’s dealings with Robert down to the latter’s overthrow at Tinchebray, and after, is founded upon the assertion—that Robert and Henry entered into a sworn agreement to recover all of the Conqueror’s domains which had been lost since his death and to visit condign punishment upon the wicked men who had fomented discord between them.[74] Wace adds that each undertook, in case the other should be at war, to furnish him with one hundred knights so long as the war lasted.[75] According to the Annals of Winchester, Ranulf Flambard gave up his bishopric of Durham.[76]

The treaty, as finally agreed upon, was duly confirmed in accordance with a custom of the period by the oaths of twelve great barons on each side.[77]

Thus ended Robert’s last and greatest effort to gain the English throne. The royal army was disbanded and sent home. A part of the ducal forces were sent back to Normandy.[78] But with the rest, Robert remained in England for several months upon terms of peace and friendship with his brother.[79] May he possibly have been awaiting the first instalment of the English subsidy? The Chronicler does not fail to raise a characteristic lament, though he makes no reference to oppressive gelds: “and his men incessantly did much harm as they went, the while that the count continued here in the country.” About Michaelmas Duke Robert returned to Normandy.[80]

The treaty of Alton has been described as “the most ill considered step in the whole of Robert’s long career of folly.”[81] It can hardly prove a surprise, however, to one who has followed Robert’s course through that long career. The real folly lay not so much in the making of the treaty as in the whole project of overthrowing Henry I., once he had got fairly seated on the English throne. It is hard to believe that the crown was within the duke’s grasp as the two armies stood facing each other at Alton. Henry had the support of the church and of the mass of his English subjects. Only a faction of the nobles was against him. And a single victory gained by the ducal forces would, it seems, hardly have resulted in disaster for the royal cause. Robert had undertaken a task which was beyond his power and his resources, a fact which the king’s momentary weakness cannot disguise.

FOOTNOTES