and seek justice from strangers, for here I will not remain as a subject." With these words he quitted the royal presence, and with a party of disaffected nobles, took refuge with Matilda's brother, Robert, earl of Flanders, surnamed "le Frison," from his having married the Countess of Friesland. From this uncle, Robert received very bad advice, and the king of France endeavoured by all the means in his power, to widen the breach between the undutiful heir of Normandy and his father. Encouraged by these evil counsellors, Robert busied himself in fomenting discontents and organizing a formidable faction in his father's dominions, whence he drew large sums in the shape of presents and loans, from many of the vassals of the ducal crown, who were willing to ingratiate themselves with the heir apparent, and to conciliate the favour of the queen-duchess, whose partial fondness for her eldest son was well known. The supplies thus obtained Robert improvidently lavished among his dissolute companions, both male and female. In consequence of this extravagance, he was occasionally reduced to the greatest inconvenience. When under the pressure of those pecuniary embarrassments, which could not fail to expose him to the contempt of the foreign princes who espoused his quarrel against his father, he was wont to apply to his too indulgent mother, Matilda, by whom he was so passionately beloved that she could refuse him nothing; from her private coffers she secretly supplied him with large sums of silver and gold, and when these resources were exhausted, she had the weakness to strip herself of her jewels and rich garments for the same purpose. This system continued even when Robert had taken up arms against his father and sovereign. Roger de Beaumont,—that faithful minister whom William had, previous to his first embarkation on the memorable expedition from St. Vallery, appointed as the premier of Normandy, and who had ever since assisted his royal mistress, not only with his counsels in the administration of affairs of state, but even in the education of her children,―felt it his duty to inform his sovereign of the underhand proceedings of Matilda in favour of her rebel son.3 William was in England when the startling intelligence reached him of the unnatural rebellion of his first-born, and the treachery of his beloved consort, in whom he had ever reposed the most unbounded confidence. He appears scarcely to have given credence to the representations of Roger de Beaumont relating to the conduct of his queen, till, on his return to Normandy, he intercepted one of Matilda's private agents, named Sampson, who was charged with communications from the queen to Robert, which left no doubt on William's mind by whom his undutiful son had been supplied with the means of carrying on his 1 Ord. Vit. 2 Wm. of Malms. Ord. Vit. 3 Wm. of Malms. 1079.] Conjugal reproaches and rejoinders. 55 plots and hostile measures against his government. There was a stern grandeur, not unmixed with tenderness, in the reproof which he addressed to his offending consort on this occasion. "The observation of a certain philosopher is true," said he, "and I have only too much cause to admit the force of his words,— • Naufragium rerum est mulier malefida marito :" "The woman who deceives her husband is the destruction of her own house.' Where in all the world could you have found a companion so faithful and devoted in his affection ?" continued he, passionately. “Behold my wife, she whom I have loved as my own soul, to whom I have confided the government of my realms, my treasure, and all that I possessed in the world of power and greatness,-she hath supported mine adversary against me, she hath strengthened and enriched him from the wealth which I confided to her keeping,-she hath secretly employed her zeal and subtlety in his cause, and done everything she could to encourage him against me!”2 Matilda's reply to this indignant but touching appeal, which her royal husband, more it should appear in sorrow than in anger, addressed to her is no less remarkable for its impassioned eloquence than the subtlety with which she evades the principal point on which she is pressed, and entrenches herself on the strong ground of maternal love. “My lord,” said she, "I pray you not to be surprised if I feel a mother's tenderness for my first-born son. By the virtue of the Most High, I protest, that if my son Robert were dead, and hidden far from the sight of the living, seven feet deep in the earth, and the price of my blood could restore him to life, I would cheerfully bid it flow. For his sake I would endure any suffering, yea, things from which, on any other occasion, the feebleness of my sex would shrink with terror. How, then, could you suppose that I could enjoy the pomp and luxuries with which I was surrounded, when I knew that he was pining in want and misery? Far from my heart be such hardness, nor ought your authority to impose such insensibility on a mother.”3 William is reported to have turned pale with anger at this rejoinder. It was not, however, on Matilda, the object of his adoring and constant affection, that he prepared to inflict the measure of vengeance which her transgression against him had provoked. Sampson, the comparatively innocent agent whom she had employed in this transaction, was doomed to pay the dreadful penalty of the offence with the loss of sight, by the order of his enraged sovereign. In such cases it is usual for the instrument to be the sacrifice, and persons of the kind are generally yielded up as a sort of scape-goat, or expiatory victim. But Matilda did not abandon her terrified agent in his distress; she contrived to 1 Ord. Vit. 2 Ibid. 3 Ibid. 4 Ibid. convey a hasty intimation of his peril, and her desire of preserving him, to some of the persons who were devoted to her service; and Sampson, more fortunate than his illustrious namesake of yore, was enabled to escape the cruel sentence of his lord by taking sanctuary in the monastery of Ouche, of which Matilda was a munificent patroness. Nevertheless, as it was a serious thing to oppose the wrath of such a prince as William, the abbot Manier found no other way of securing the trembling fugitive from his vengeance, than that of causing him to be shorn, shaven, and professed a monk of Ouche the same day he entered the convent, "in happy hour both for his body and soul,” observes the contemporary chronicler who relates this circumstance.1 It does not appear that William's affection for Matilda suffered any material diminution in consequence of these transactions, neither would he permit any one to censure her conduct in his presence. She was the love of his youth, the solace of his meridian hours of life, and she preserved her empire over his mighty heart to the last hour of her life. But though the attachment of the Conqueror to his consort remained unaltered, the happiness of the royal pair was materially impaired. Robert, their first-born, was in arms against his father and sovereign, and at the head of a numerous army,-supported by the hostile power of France on the one hand, and the disaffected portion of William's subjects on the other. He had made a formidable attack on Rouen, and in several instances obtained successes which at first astonished his indignant parent, who had certainly greatly underrated the military talents of his heir. When, however, the Conqueror perceived that the filial foe who had thus audaciously displayed his rebel banner against him inherited the martial genius of his race, and was by no means unlikely to prove a match for himself in the art of war, he advanced with a mighty army to give him battle. The royal chiefs of Normandy met in hostile encounter on the plain of Gerberoi, near the castle of Gerburg. William Rufus, the Conqueror's favourite son, was in close attendance on his father's person that day. This prince had already received the honour of knighthood from Lanfranc, archbishop of Canterbury, his tutor, and he was eager to assist in humbling the pride of his elder brother, over whom the Conqueror anticipated a signal triumph.3 The battle was fought with no common fury on both sides; but Robert, who headed a choice body of cavalry, decided the fortune of the day by his impetuous charge upon the rearward of his foes, where his royal father commanded. It was in this charge that Robert, unconscious who the doughty champion was against whom he tilted, ran his father through the arm with his lance, and unhorsed him. This 3 Rog. Hov S. Dunelm. M. Paris. Polydore Vergil. Wm. of Malms. Rog. Hov. M. Paris. 1 Ord. Vit. 2 Ibid. 4 S. Dunelm. Matilda intercedes for Robert. 57 1079.] was the first time that William had ever been overcome in single combat, for he was one of the strongest men and most approved knights of the age in which he lived; and it is a singular fact that in all the battles in which he had been engaged, he had never lost a drop of blood, till it was in this field drawn by the lance of his firstborn. Transported with rage at the disgrace of the overthrow, he called so loudly and angrily for rescue, that Robert recognised him, either by his voice or some of his favourite expletives, and hastily alighting, raised him from the ground in his arms with much tenderness and respect, expressed the deepest concern at the unintentional crime of which he had been guilty, most humbly entreated his forgiveness, and then placing him on his own horse, he brought him safely out of the press.1 According to some of the historians of that period, William, instead of meeting this generous burst of feeling on the part of his penitent son with answering emotions of paternal tenderness, was so infuriated at the humiliation he had received, that he uttered a malediction against him, which all the after submissions of Robert could not induce him to retract; while others equally deserving of credit, assert that he was so moved with the proof of Robert's dutiful reverence for his person, and the anxiety he had manifested for his safety, that he presently forgave him, and ever after held him in better respect. Both accounts may be true in part; for it is very possible, that when the conqueror of England found himself defeated by his rebel subjects on his native soil, and his hitherto invincible arm overcome by the prowess of his son (whose person he had been accustomed to mention with a contemptuous allusion to his inferiority in stature), he might, while the smart of his wound lasted, have indulged in a strong ebullition of wrathful reproach, not unmixed with execrations, of which it appears that he, in common with all Normans of that era, had an evil habit. But after his passion was abated, it is certain that he did, in compliance with the entreaties of his queen, consent to receive the submission of his victorious but penitent son.2 In this battle William Rufus was severely wounded, as well as his father, and there was a considerable slaughter of the English troops, of which the Conqueror's army was chiefly composed; for Robert had stolen the hearts of the Normans while associated in the regency with his mother Matilda, and his father considered it unsafe to oppose him with his native troops. As it was, Robert remained the master of the field, having that day given indubitable proofs of able generalship and great personal valour; but the perilous chance that had nearly rendered him the murderer of his father made so deep an impression on his mind, that he remained for a time conscience-stricken, which caused him to endeavour, by employing the intercession of his mother, to obtain a reconciliation with his offended sire.1 Matilda had suffered greatly in mind during the unnatural warfare between her husband and her first-born, especially after the frightful circumstance of their personal encounter in the field of Gerberoi. Some feelings of self-reproach might possibly mingle with her uneasiness on this occasion. Her health began to decline, and William was at length moved by her incessant pleading, and the sight of her tears, to write a letter with his own hand to Robert, inviting him "to repair to Rouen, and receive a full pardon for his late rebellion, promising at the same time to grant him everything that he could expect from the affection of a father, consistently with the duty of a king." On the receipt of this welcome letter, Robert delayed not a moment to obey the summons. He came to Rouen, attended only by three servants; he was received by his parents in the most affectionate manner, and a temporary reconciliation was effected between him and his brethren.2 Matilda did not long enjoy the society of this beloved son; for the Conqueror's affairs in England demanding his presence, he thought proper to carry Robert with him, under the pretence that he required his services in a military capacity, to defend the northern counties against the aggression of Malcolm, king of Scotland, who had once more violated the treaty of peace. William considered Matilda was too much devoted to the interest of her first-born to render it expedient for him to remain with her in Normandy. Meantime commissioners were appointed to make the great national survey, which was instituted by the Conqueror for the purpose of ascertaining the precise nature of the lands and tangible property throughout England; so that, says Ingulphus, "there was not a hide of land, water, or waste, but he knew the valuation, the owners and possessors, together with the rents and profits thereof; as also of all cities, towns, villages, hamlets, monasteries, and religious houses; causing, also, all the people in England to be numbered, their names to be taken, with notice what any one might dispend by the year; their substance, money, and bondmen recorded, with their cattle, and what service they owed to him who held of him in fee: all which was certified upon the oaths of commissioners."4 The proceedings of the commissioners were inquisitorial enough, no doubt, since they extended to ascertaining how much money every man had in his house, and what was owing to him. That in some instances, too, they were partial in their returns is evident, by the acknowledg ment of Ingulphus, when, speaking of his own monastery of Croyland, not fully completed till 1086.-Tindal's Notes on Rapin. 1 Ord. Vit. 2 Ibid. Henderson. 3 According to some historians, the survey was not generally begun till 1080. It was 4 Ingulph. |