of
Geoffrey Malaterra that Hauteville was not so much called from the
height of any hill ("non quidem tantum pro excellentia alicuius montis
in quo sita sit"), but rather prophetically, from the height of power
and glory to which men who went from it should climb ("sed quoniam, ut
credimus, aliquo auspicio ad considerationem praenotantis eventum et
prosperos successus eiusdem villae futurorum haeredum, Dei adiutorio et
sua presenuitate gradatim altioris honoris culmen scandentium"). We look
then for a high place. It might be bold to expect to see the high place
crowned by any actual building of the days of Tancred; but it seems only
reasonable to argue that Hauteville must be _Hauteville_, that it must
stand high. We feel sure of finding, perhaps, if our hopes are very
daring, the eagle's nest on the top of the rock, or perhaps, what in
Norman scenery is far more likely, the mound, natural or artificial,
with its ditches, rivals, it may be, of Arques. And, where there is so
little chance of finding any building of Tancred's own day, we cherish
the hope that the site of his dwelling may stand wholly void, and may
not have been turned to support any other building of later times.

In this fairly hopeful frame of mind, we set forth from Coutances to the
north-east. The path at least is easy enough. After some miles of _route
nationale_, with a fine view of the towers of Coutances for those who
look backwards, we turn off into a _route departementale_. And all who
are used to French roads know well that a _route nationale_ is always
excellent, and that a _route departementale_ is always endurable and
something more. We have one or two gentle ups and downs; but we neither
see nor feel anything to suggest the presence or the neighbourhood of an
_alta villa_. Presently a gentle down rather than a gentle up brings us
to a small village, a church with a good example of the usual
saddle-back tower, and with a few houses around it. We are told, and the
ordnance map confirms the statement, that this is Hauteville,
Hauteville-la-Guichard. Here then is the home of the Norman gentleman of
the twelfth century, whose sons grew into counts and dukes in the
southern lands, and whose remoter descendants wore the crowns of
kingship and of Empire. With this knowledge, we are staggered to find
ourselves, if not actually in a hole, yet in something much nearer to a
hole than to a height, in a spot which, of the two, would seem to be
more fitti