The vigorous manner in which William entered upon the preparations for his grand campaign excited the enthusiasm of his continental neighbours. “Reports,” says Ordericus Vitalis, “of the expedition drew many valiant men from the adjoining countries, who prepared their arms for battle. Thus the French and Bretons, the Poitevins and Burgundians, and other people on this side the Alps, flocked together for the war over the sea, and scenting the booty which the conquest of Britain offered, were prepared to undergo the various perils and chances, both by sea and land, attending the enterprise.” In the month of August William’s fleet assembled at the mouth of the river Dive,[87] in the vicinity of which it is probable most of his ships were built. Unfavourable weather detained it here for some time, and when it did move, it was not able to proceed further than St. Valery-sur-Somme. Adverse winds again prevailed for a month. “At this,” says Wace, “the barons were greatly wearied. Then they prayed the Convent to bring out the shrine of St. Valery, and set it on a carpet on the plain; and all came praying the holy relics that they might be allowed to pass over the sea. They offered so much money, that the relics were buried beneath it; and from that day forth they had good weather and a fair wind.”

The long detention of the Norman forces on the French coast was a fortunate circumstance for them. Harold had made ample provision for resisting the landing of his opponent. With a fleet which he had assembled at Harwich he sailed to the Isle of Wight, and there throughout the summer and autumn months awaited William’s arrival. He also kept a land force in suitable positions near the sea shore.[88] The same wind however which detained William at St. Valery brought Harold another foe which compelled him to withdraw his troops from the southern coast. On his departure the fleet was dispersed. Some of the chroniclers tell us that the seamen’s time of service had expired, others that they were short of provisions. Harold’s absence no doubt materially contributed to the demoralization of this important national safeguard.

Here we are again called upon to notice the vanity of man’s policy. Harold foreseeing that a struggle would ensue between William and himself, and being, consequently, desirous of promoting friendly alliances with some of the continental powers, encouraged his brother Tostig to marry a daughter of the Earl of Flanders. This Tostig did, and thereby became brother-in-law to William of Normandy. Tostig, during the life of the Confessor, was appointed to the earldom of Northumbria, but the people having risen in arms against him, probably on account of the harshness of his rule, he was removed, and Morcar appointed in his place. When Harold became king, Tostig expected to be reinstated, but so far from taking active measures in his favour, Harold married the sister of the earl who had supplanted him. Tostig, enraged at this treatment, conceived a violent hatred against his brother, and inflamed the minds of the Earl of Flanders and the Duke of Normandy against him. Receiving, moreover, the active support of Harold Hardrada, King of Norway, he landed with a hostile force in Yorkshire, and ravaged the country. Harold, while watching the proceedings of the Norman armada, heard of his brother’s attempt. Hastening northwards, he came upon him unawares, and slew both him and Hardrada, and scattered their forces. While Harold was engaged in these operations, William landed unopposed in Sussex!

It was on the night of the 29th September that the Norman expedition crossed the sea, and early next morning it reached the port of Pavensey. The Tapestry represents this important transaction. The Duke’s own ship is distinguished by the consecrated banner at its mast head. This vessel was called the Mora, and is stated to have been a present from the Duchess Matilda. The legend in this part of the Tapestry (Plate IX.) is, HIC WELELM: DUX IN MAGNO NAVIGIO MARE TRANSIVIT ET VENIT AD PEVENSÆ[89]—Here Duke William in a large ship crossed the sea, and arrived at Pevensey.

A glance at the map of Sussex will shew that Pevensey was a most fitting place at which to effect a landing. Beachy Head projecting considerably to the south, protects this ancient port from the swell occasioned by the wind which most violently affects the English Channel—the south-west. The beach, too, is of a nature well adapted for allowing ships such as William’s were being safely drawn up upon it. This was the port selected by the Conqueror for his embarkation when he returned to Normandy after his coronation. In all probability William’s fleet would line the shore for a considerable space on both sides of Pevensey in the manner which they are represented as doing in the Tapestry, (Plate X.) It is curious to observe, that the remains of a vessel, which Mr. Lower thinks is at least as old as the Conquest, has recently been discovered, imbedded in the gravel of the ancient beach of Pevensey. The nature of the position in which it is placed prevents its being excavated; we might otherwise, perchance, have the pleasure of looking upon one of the Conqueror’s own ships.

William landed with great caution. Wace thus describes the operation—“They arrived near Hastings, and there each ship was ranged by the other’s side. There you might see the good sailors, the sergeants, and squires, sally forth and unload the ships; cast the anchors, haul the ropes, bear out shields and saddles, and land the war-horses and palfreys. The archers came forth, and touched land the foremost; each with his bow bent, and his quiver full of arrows slung at his side. All were shaven and shorn, and all clad in short garments, ready to attack, to shoot, to wheel about, and

skirmish. All stood well equipped, and of good courage for the fight; and they scoured the whole shore, but found not an armed man there. After the archers had thus gone forth, the knights landed next, all armed, with their hauberks on, their shields slung at their necks, and their helmets laced. They formed together on the shore, each armed upon his war-horse. All had their swords girded on, and passed into the plain with their lances raised.”

Our picture-chronicle does not neglect these transactions. The inscription over them is, HIC EXEUNT CABALLI DE NAVIBUS ET HIC MILITES FESTINAVERUNT HASTINGA UT CIBUM RAPERENTUR[90]—Here the horses disembark, and here the soldiers hurry forward to Hastings to seize food.

An incident is told respecting the landing of William which is best related in the words of the Chronicler. “As the ships were drawn to shore, and the Duke first landed, he fell by chance upon his two hands. Forthwith all raised a loud cry of distress, ‘an evil sign’ said they, ‘is here.’ But he cried out lustily, ‘See seigniors, by the splendour of God! I have seized England with my two hands; without challenge no prize can be made; all is our own that is here; now we shall see who will be the bolder man.’ Then one of his men ran forward and put his hand on a hut, and took a handful of the thatch and turned to the Duke, saying heartily, ‘Sire, come forward and receive seizin; of this land I give you seizin; without doubt the country is yours.’ And the Duke said, ‘I accept it; may God be with us.’”[91]

The nature of the ground prevented William from proceeding directly up the country from Pevensey. So late as the days of Queen Elizabeth, the land inwards from this point was little better than a marsh. The Ordnance map of Sussex shows, in this direction, a remarkable absence of towns and villages, indicating pretty clearly what it must have been in former times. William went cautiously along the shore to Hastings, where he erected his fortifications, and refreshed his troops. In the Tapestry we see them seizing the sheep and cattle in the fields, cooking their food, and afterwards seating themselves at table. Wace says “Before evening had set in they had finished a fort. Then you might see them make their kitchens, light their fires, and cook their meat. The Duke sat down to eat, and the barons and knights had food in plenty; for they had brought ample store. All ate and drank enough, and were right glad that they were ashore.”

The culinary operations of the invading force require some notice. Although some huts have been erected on the shore, having been brought in frame with the fleet, the cooks discharge their duties in the open air.

The pot may have been a metallic vessel brought over from Normandy with the stores; its appearance, however, strongly reminds us of a plan which Froissart tells us the Scotch adopted in one of their incursions into England. Having seized an ox, they slaughtered it, and boiled its flesh in its skin, supporting the extemporaneously-made cauldron after the manner shown in the Tapestry. The rest of the cookery is done upon a hearth. A spit, on which the wood is placed, is thrust into the ground, so as to suspend the article to be cooked a short way above the fire. At the present day much of the cookery of Normandy is done by placing the food in earthenware vessels, which are brought into contact with the embers without the intervention of a grate. The food when cooked was usually, at this period, handed to the guests seated at the table, on the spits, who took it off with their fingers, assisted with a knife which they carried with them. Forks were comparatively unknown for some centuries after the Conquest.

In the Tapestry two tables are spread. The first of them seems to be formed of shields set upon a frame. The persons seated at it are probably some of William’s chief officers whose duty it is to arrange the entertainment, and taste the food and wine previous to its being set before the Duke. William sits at a table which was no doubt brought from Normandy. It is of classic form, being like that called by the Romans Sigma, from its resemblance to the Greek letter of that name, which in the time of the Roman Emperors was formed like our C. The guests sit at one side of it only, the inner or concave side being left open, to allow the servants more readily to approach. All the operations of the table are presented to us by the artist. Odo, with his thumb and two forefingers extended, is blessing the food and the drink. William has planted his hand upon the principal dish, as if to claim the lion’s share for himself. Another person is tearing a fish to pieces with his fingers, and conveying the morsels by the same medium to his mouth. An old man with a beard, probably William’s Nestor, who refused to comply with the tonsured fashion of the day, is drinking with his neighbour; both of them have uplifted bowls. A servant upon bended knee is presenting a covered dish to the party. These compartments are respectively described, HIC COQUITUR CARO ET HIC MINISTRAVERUNT MINISTRI—Here the food is being cooked and here the attendants have served up the viands: HIC FECERUNT PRANDIUM ET HIC EPISCOPUS CIBUM ET POTUM BENEDICIT—Here they have prepared the feast and here the bishop is blessing the meat and drink.

The meal must necessarily have been a hasty one. One of the guests has already risen from his seat, and calls the attention of the Duke to something that is passing without.

William was now fairly committed to a great and hazardous undertaking, and retreat was not to be thought of; at the same time, the utmost circumspection was necessary, and the Duke of Normandy was not the man to neglect any precaution.

We accordingly next find him in solemn consultation with his two uterine brothers—Odo, Archbishop of Bayeux, and Robert, Count of Mortaine. William has his sword elevated, and Robert is in the act of drawing his from the scabbard—indications which strongly mark the nature of the attempt before them. The legend over this group (Plate XI.) is simply, ODO EPISCOPUS: ROBERTUS—Odo the Bishop: Robert.

As the result, probably, of the deliberations of the three brothers, it was resolved strongly to fortify the position occupied by William’s army. Such was the importance of this work, that William, with the consecrated banner in his hand, is seen personally superintending it. The spades of the workmen are worthy of observation. They are evidently made of wood, but shod with iron. They have a notch for the foot on one side only. That they were adapted not merely for turning up the soil, but for trenching the scull of an enemy, is evident not only from their size and form, but from the use to which they are put by two of the parties before us. The inscription over this part is, ISTE JUSSIT UT FODERETUR CASTELLUM AT HESTENGA[M]—He has ordered an intrenchment to be dug at Hastings; and over the castle itself is written, CEASTRA[92]—The camp.

The camp in question could not be the castle, the ruins of which now crown the heights of Hastings. However strong the position of Hastings castle, there is not space enough on the rocky platform on which it stands for the encampment of an army one fourth of the size of William’s; besides, we cannot suppose that William in his present circumstances would attempt the erection of a fort of solid masonry. The camp which William constructed was, as the Tapestry leads us to believe, formed of earth, strengthened with wooden palisades, the whole being commanded at intervals by towers which had been brought in frame from France. The phrase ut foderetur, that they might dig a castle, is express, and the men are seen throwing up the soil. This agrees with what Wace says, “They enclosed a fort and strengthened it round about with palisades and a fosse.” Some extensive entrenchments, still to be seen in the immediate vicinity of the railway station at Hastings, are probably the remains of the Duke’s encampment.[93]

An English knight, who had watched the landing of William, hastened to Harold with the alarming news. He found him rejoicing after the defeat of Tostig and Hardrada. “Foolish” says Wace, “is he who glorifies himself, for good fortune soon passeth away. The heart of man often rejoiceth when ruin is nigh.”

Bitterly did Harold grieve that he had not been at the spot when the Normans landed, that he might have driven them into the sea. “It is a sad mischance,” said he, “but thus it hath pleased our Heavenly King.”

Harold had, by the rapidity of his marches, surprised his brother Tostig, and come upon the troops of Hardrada unawares. He thought to adopt the same policy with William; and, without taking time to refresh or recruit his exhausted army, commenced his march southwards. In the course of a few days he was in the vicinity of his enemy. William, however, was not to be taken by surprise, and Harold was constrained to take up a position at Battle, distant about six miles from Hastings, where the Duke was encamped.

The next compartment in the Tapestry exhibits to us William giving audience to a messenger who announces to him the approach of Harold. The legend is, HIC NUNTIATUM EST WILLELMO DE HAROLD—Here news is brought to William respecting Harold.

Whilst these movements were going on, the inhabitants of the southern shore of Sussex were suffering severely. Not only were their cattle taken from the folds, and their recently replenished granaries emptied, but their dwellings were wantonly destroyed. Perhaps the Saxons may have provoked the vengeance of the foe, for they were not men to take quietly the spoiling of their goods. In the Tapestry we see a soldier setting fire to a house (one being the representative of many), from which a female and child are escaping—escaping from present destruction to be cast, with winter before them, houseless, friendless, and without food, upon the wide world. The sufferings of the battle field form but a small part of the horrors of war. This compartment of the work bears the inscription, HIC DOMUS INCENDITUR—Here a house is set fire to. Some outlined figures in the margin of this part of the work doubtless refer to those distressing immoralities which too often attend the march of armies.

Whilst the two armies lay within a few miles of each other several messages passed between the commanders. William was too good a soldier to risk a battle if he could avoid it. He therefore sent a tonsured monk to Harold, reminding him of his oath, and calling upon him to deliver up the kingdom. Harold, flushed with recent victory, was with difficulty restrained from cutting down the messenger; as it was, he sent him away with insults. When his rage had subsided he saw his folly, and sent an envoy, acquainted with the language of France, to duke William, offering to make him a pecuniary recompense if he would recross the sea, telling him however, if he did not, he would give him battle on the following Saturday.

Saturday, the 1st of October, was Harold’s birth day. He always regarded it as his fortunate day; and he was anxious if he did enter into mortal conflict with a desperate foe, that it should be when his propitious star was in the ascendant. Like another of England’s heroes—Oliver Cromwell—the day of his birth was to prove the day of his death.

A battle now being imminent, Gurth, the brother of Harold, was exceedingly anxious that the king should retire from the host and give the command to him. Gurth had taken no oath to William, and therefore had not the punishment of perjury to fear. Besides, if he were slain, England would still have her king; and army after army could be raised, if need be, to resist the pretensions of any invader. Harold refused to adopt the wise counsel of his brother. Though a brave man, he had not the self-command of William, nor the same power of taking an enlarged view of a subject.

The day before the battle, Harold and Gurth rode out early in the morning to descry the enemy. “They rode on, viewing and examining the ground, till, from a hill where they stood, they could see the Norman host, who were near. They saw a great many huts made of branches of trees, tents well equipped, pavilions, and gonfanons; and they heard horses neighing, and beheld the glittering of armour. They stood a long while without speaking”—and at length returned in silence to their tent. They had seen enough to awaken their apprehensions, and to make them anxious for further information. Harold, therefore, sent out two spies to reconnoitre. They fell into the hands of the Normans, who brought them to William. He used them well, and ordered them to be conducted through the host. On their return they reported that the Normans, whom they had noticed to be close shaven and cropt, were an army of priests and mass-sayers rather than knights. Harold, who knew the habits of the Normans, replied, “These are valiant knights, bold and brave warriors, though they bear not beards and mustaches as we do.”

Notwithstanding the ill success of his former representations, William persevered in negotiation. He lost no time by it, and if he did not succeed in his immediate object, he induced his observers to believe, that one who was so bent upon the investigation of his claims must have right upon his side.

On the same day that he entertained the spies of Harold, he sent a monk, learned and wise, offering Harold one of three things—that he should resign the kingdom, that he should submit to the judgment of the Pope, or meet him singly and fight body for body. Harold declined every alternative.

Next day—the day before the battle—William attempted to obtain a personal interview with Harold. Harold refused to meet him. By the messenger who brought Harold’s negative to the proposal for a meeting, William sent him word that if he would retire he would give him all Northumberland, and whatever belonged to the kingdom beyond the Humber; to his brother Gurth he promised the lands of Godwin their father. Harold rejected this also: Northumberland was nothing worth; it was chiefly peopled by Danes, and was liable to constant invasion. William, when king, could not govern Northumberland. As a matter, not of feeling, not of revenge, but of cool, calculating state policy, he swept it of every living thing—he made it a desert, and such it continued for a century after his time.

At the same time that William sent his last message, he charged the clerk who took it, in case of refusal, to sow the seeds of terror and dissatisfaction among the English. “Tell them,” said he, “that all who come with Harold, or support him in this affair, are excommunicated by the Apostle and his clergy.” This was a javelin skilfully thrown. “At this excommunication the English were much troubled; they feared it greatly, and the battle still more.”

Gurth, however, rallied them. He told them that their all was at stake, that William had promised their lands to his followers, and that he had already taken homage for them from many. “Defend yourselves then,” he said, “and your children and all that belongs to you, while you may.”

At these words the English were aroused, and cried out that the Normans had come on an evil day, and had embarked on a foolish matter.

“The Duke and his men tried no further negotiation, but returned to their tents, sure of fighting on the morrow. Then men were to be seen on every side straightening lances, fitting hauberks and helmets, making ready the saddles and stirrups; filling the quivers, stringing the bows, and making all ready for the battle.”

The night before a battle must be a season of peculiar solemnity and suspense. The shades of night, giving indistinctness to the landscape, harmonize too well with the doubts which becloud the mind as to the morrow’s destiny. He is a fool, not a hero, who would step from time into eternity without solemn thought.

The accounts which we have of the way in which the hosts spent the night before the battle are all to the disadvantage of the English. Had they been the winning instead of the losing party, the chroniclers would doubtless have been less severe. As it is, they tell us that the troops of Harold spent the night in eating and drinking and merriment—never lying down in their beds. If this be true, how we are we to account for the vigour with which they fought from nine o’clock in the morning until nightfall next day? The Normans and French, on the other hand, we are told, betook themselves to their orisons. “They made confession of their sins, accused themselves to the priests, and vowed that they would never more eat flesh on the Saturday” (the day of the battle). Many of them kept the vow!

At the dawn of day each party had completed its preparations. Before the sun should set, a battle was to be fought on which hung not merely the fate of an empire, but, as events have subsequently proved, the destinies of the civilized world to this hour.