The town of Dover lies, like that of Hastings, between two heights. The easternmost of the two had been made a post of defence in the days of the ancient conquerors, and it had not been neglected either by the Kentish Kings or by the West-Saxon rulers who succeeded them. The tower of Roman work, the famous Pharos, is still there; there too is an ancient church, lately recovered from desecration, which dates from the earliest days of English Christianity. Few buildings in England show us so well how the first believers of our race strove, under the guidance of Roman missionaries, to reproduce the works of Roman skill in their lowlier temples. The eye of Earl Harold had marked the importance of the site, and the spot which lay so temptingly open to an invading enemy had
been made secure against all attack. It may well be that the evil deed of Eustace had caused special heed to be given to the necessity of strengthening the town. And Harold, the observant pilgrim and traveller, who had so carefully studied all that Gaul had to offer him, as he introduced the latest improvements of Norman ecclesiastical art into his church at Waltham, introduced also the latest improvements of Norman military art into his castle at Dover. A fortress arose, of whose strength, both from its position and from its defences, Norman writers speak with all respect; a fortress whose fame had crossed the sea, and whose surrender William was said to have specially demanded as being the surrender of one of the keys of England. The castle on the cliff was commonly deemed to be safe against all assailants, and a vast crowd of people from the surrounding country had sought for shelter within its precincts when the invading host drew nigh. That a fortress like this should have been surrendered without a blow not only moves our indignation, but moves our amazement also, when we think of the valour which
Englishmen had just before shown at Senlac and which they were again to show
at York and at Ely. Englishmen were undoubtedly far better used to fighting
pitched battles than they were to either the defence or the attack of fortified
places. And it has been conjectured with some likelihood that the garrison placed
to defend the castle against attack from the sea might, when the invader had
actually landed at another point, have joined the King's muster and have fought
and died along with the rest of his personal following. Whatever was the cause,
the fact is certain. Before William had thrown up a bank or shot an arrow against
the castle of Dover, town and castle were freely surrendered into his hands.
It was now as plainly his policy to show himself mild and debonair as it had
been his policy at Romney to show himself beyond measure stark. The men of Dover
were, according to William's code, rebels who had laid down their arms, and
who were therefore entitled to pardon. To do them any wanton harm was wholly
against his scheme of conduct. But some of the unruly soldiers of his army felt
themselves defrauded of their expected plunder, and they betook themselves to
the wonted Norman means of destruction. Fire was as freely used at Dover as
it had been at Mayenne or at Dinan, but this time it was used without any order
from Duke William for its use. A large part of the town was burned. But the
politic liberality of the Duke made good their losses to the owners of the destroyed
houses, and the offenders were only sheltered from punishment by their numbers
and by the baseness of their condition. William remained at Dover eight days.
He further strengthened the fortifications of the castle, which now received
that Norman garrison with which Harold had failed to people it. --Freeman