Chapter XVI: The Interregnum.1503

October 15–December 25, 1066.

[Sidenote: The throne vacant.]

England was thus again without a King. For the second time within this memorable year the throne had become vacant. But the vacancy of October differed widely in every way from the vacancy of January. Then a King had gone to his grave in peace, and the election of his successor could be made by the free voices of the English people. That successor had now given his life for England, and, as in the days of Swend and Cnut, a foreign invader was again in the land, claiming the votes of the Witan with a victorious army to back his [Sidenote: William not yet King.] claims. For we must remember that still, after the day of Senlac, William was only a candidate for the Crown. He claimed an exclusive right to become King, but he did not claim to be King as yet. One flatterer only[1504] ventures to give him the kingly title before his formal election and consecration. Till those ceremonies had been performed, William was not King _de jure_, and he was as yet very far from being King _de facto_. All that he had as yet was military possession of part of one shire. But [Sidenote: His success practically certain.] his work was practically over; he had now simply to bide his time and slowly to gather in his harvest. He had already in effect conquered England, for the one man was gone who could still have saved her from conquest. With Harold the true hope and strength of England had fallen.[1505]

[Sidenote: William’s expectation of immediate submission disappointed.]

No one knew this better than the Conqueror himself. His expectation was that all England would at once submit to him.[1506] And though he was mistaken in that expectation, the mistake was not one which carried him very far away from the truth. He simply expected that to happen at once, which was sure to happen before long, [Sidenote: No idea of submission among the English as yet.] and which did happen within two months. But for the moment no Englishman dreamed of submission.[1507] Men as little thought of acknowledging the Norman after a single victory as their fathers had thought of acknowledging the Dane in the like case. Ælfred and Eadmund had fought battle after battle with the invaders, and it was only after a long alternation of victory and defeat that Guthrum and Cnut had obtained a settlement, and after all only a partial settlement, in the land. No man therefore who was not actually within the reach of William’s hand thought, in the first days after the fight of Senlac, of submitting to the Conqueror. William had returned to his camp at Hastings, and he there tarried, ready to receive the allegiance of those whom he looked on as his lawful subjects. But not a single Englishman came to his camp to bow to him and become his man.[1508] The voice of Englishmen, the voice at least of all who were neither too far off to hear the news nor too near to be practically within William’s power, called for another King to lead them forth to another battle.

[Sidenote: The news reaches London.]

The news of the defeat of the English army and of the death of the King was brought to London by some of the fugitives from Senlac.[1509] Before long, the wounded Sheriff Esegar contrived to make his way thither from the hill of [Sidenote: Eadwine and Morkere hear the news, and hasten to London.] slaughter.[1510] Meanwhile the two Northern Earls were on their tardy march, waiting to see what course events might take. The news of Harold’s fall reached them on their way. They hastened to London,[1511] and, as their first [Sidenote: They send Ealdgyth to Chester.] measure of precaution, they sent their sister, the Lady Ealdgyth, to the distant city of Chester in the Earldom [Sidenote: Gemót in London for the election of a King.] of Eadwine.[1512] Men were now flocking together from the lands immediately threatened by William to seek for safety in the great city.[1513] It was therefore possible to hold an Assembly which might fairly represent the national will. The Witan, among whom the citizens of London and the sailors are specially mentioned, met to choose a King.[1514] The choice was far from being so easy in October as it [Sidenote: No qualified candidate forthcoming. Harold’s sons unqualified.] had been in January. There was now no one man who could, either by his birth or by his personal merits, command the unanimous vote of the nation. The late King had left sons, but they were not born Æthelings, sons of a crowned King; indeed they were most likely not even born in lawful wedlock.[1515] They had therefore no claim even to a constitutional preference, and young and undistinguished as they were, they could have no claim on the score of personal merit. We have no evidence that the names of Eadmund, Magnus, and Godwine, the three sons of Harold, were so much as mentioned[1516] in the debates of the Witan. The Crown thus passed away for ever from the newly [Sidenote: Loss of Gyrth and Leofwine.] chosen dynasty. Had Harold’s two brothers lived, things might have gone otherwise. One cannot doubt that Gyrth was in every way worthy to reign, and we can believe that the voice of Wessex and East-Anglia at least would have been raised in favour either of him or of Leofwine. But the two heroes had fallen with their King and brother; young Wulfnoth was personally undistinguished and was far away in the hands of the enemy; no candidate from [Sidenote: Waltheof not yet distinguished.] the House of Godwine was forthcoming. Looking to the other great Houses, there was one whose name was soon to become famous and honoured among Englishmen; but as yet Waltheof the son of Siward had not shown himself as a leader of men,[1517] and the Earldom which he ruled was the [Sidenote: Candidature of Eadwine and Morkere.] smallest in the Kingdom. In the House of Leofric indeed there was no lack of candidates. Eadwine and Morkere were open to receive any crowns that they could get. In their eyes no doubt the happy moment had come, when Mercian hands might grasp the sceptre, if possible of the whole realm, at any rate of its northern half. We do not hear what arrangements were to be made between the two brothers; but the two together were urgent with the men of London to raise one or other of them to the Imperial Crown.[1518] But their hopes were disappointed. There was in truth no general feeling to which they could appeal. The candidature of Eadwine or Morkere could have presented no sort of attraction to the men of London, [Sidenote: Election of the Ætheling Eadgar.] of Wessex, or of East-Anglia. In the absence then of any better qualified candidate, of any one leader on whom all could agree, the sentiment of hereditary descent prevailed. There was one in the land who, whatever else he was, was the grandson of Ironside, the heir of Ælfred and Ecgberht, the last male of the stock of Cerdic and Woden. To fill the vacancy caused by the death of Harold, the Witan of England called on the young Ætheling Eadgar to ascend the throne of his fathers.[1519]

[Sidenote: The choice bad, but unavoidable.]

It is vain to discuss the merits of the choice. It could be justified only by the sad truths that any King was better than no King at all, and that at that moment no better King was forthcoming. There may even have been a faint hope that William might be satisfied with the overthrow of his personal enemy, and that he would not press his claims against a boy who had never wronged him, a boy who might pass as the heir, who was certainly the next of kin, of the deceased King for whom he professed so deep a reverence. How far the choice was strictly [Sidenote: Eadwine and Morkere agree to the election.] unanimous we know not. There is no doubt that Eadwine and Morkere, seeing no hopes of their own elevation, gave a formal consent to the election of Eadgar.[1520] On the [Sidenote: Opposition of some of the Bishops.] other hand we find it hinted that the Bishops opposed the choice of the Ætheling.[1521] We know not how many of the English Bishops were at this time in London. It [Sidenote: The two Archbishops for Eadgar.] is certain that the two Primates, Stigand and Ealdred, were both present, and that both concurred in the election of Eadgar.[1522] It would appear also that Wulfstan of Worcester and Walter of Hereford were also in the city.[1523] [Sidenote: The opposition probably made by the foreign Bishops.] Now we may be sure that any influence which belonged to the Bishop of the Diocese, the Norman William, would be exerted to hinder the election of Eadgar. A Norman Prelate might now, without dishonour, recommend submission to the armed candidate of his own race. Even Wulfstan, the friend of Harold, might not feel himself equally bound to Eadgar, and his later conduct may perhaps show that, in face of the invasion of William, he was not unlikely to play the part of Jeremiah in face of the invasion of Nabuchodonosor. We may suspect too that the Lotharingian Prelate of Hereford, and his brethren of Wells and Sherborne, would not be specially zealous in the national cause. We need not suspect them of actual treason, but to exhort to submission to the Conqueror after the death of Harold would bear an aspect quite different from an attempt to weaken the national power of resistance while the King still lived. Even a national and patriotic writer, speaking with the experience of a few weeks later, argues that an early submission would have been the wisest course.[1524] The minds of foreign churchmen would be specially open to those spiritual influences which William had contrived to array on his side. Nothing could be easier than to argue that, in the great assize of Senlac, the judgement of God had been visibly given on behalf of the invader, and that those who continued to fight against him would incur the guilt of fighting against God.

[Sidenote: Eadgar seemingly not crowned.]

But such arguments, if used, were as yet of none effect. Young Eadgar was regularly elected King. Whether he was crowned we are not distinctly told. Every motive of policy would plead for a coronation as speedy as the coronation of Harold. But the election of Harold had taken place during one of the Church’s solemn seasons, and it was possible to perform the ceremony before the festival was over. But if the coronation of Eadgar was to take place on one of the days usually chosen for such solemnities, it would have to be delayed till the Feast [Sidenote: The coronation probably delayed till Christmas.] of Christmas. In all probability the rite was fixed for that festival, and, when the festival came, the rite had to be performed on another. Eadgar then never was full King, King crowned and anointed. But his authority was acknowledged, and he performed at least one kingly act. The Golden Borough of Saint Peter lacked an [Sidenote: Death of Abbot Leofric, November 1.] Abbot. The patriot Leofric, wounded in the great battle, had found his way home, and had died on the Festival of All Saints.[1525] The monks of his house forthwith chose [Sidenote: Brand elected Abbot, and confirmed by Eadgar.] their Provost Brand as his successor, and sent him to Eadgar for the royal confirmation.[1526] His reception was favourable; he received his staff from the hands of the Ætheling.[1527] But we shall see that this acknowledgement of the national candidate on the part of the monks of Peterborough was a crime in the eyes of the invader which called for a heavy atonement.

[Sidenote: The Londoners and others prepare for another battle.]

The nation had thus chosen a successor to the King who had died on Senlac. The cry of every patriotic heart was for a vigorous carrying on the war with the invader. The citizens of London, above all, were eager to hazard [Sidenote: Chances of resistance.] another battle.[1528] The chances of such an enterprise were still far from being hopeless. The slaughter of Fulford, of Stamfordbridge, and of Senlac had indeed been frightful, and, as ever, it had fallen most heavily on the best portions of the army, on the King’s Thegns and the Housecarls. Still the strength of England was far from being broken, and we may be sure that Ælfred or Eadmund would have been perfectly ready to risk a fourth battle. But there was no Ælfred or Eadmund now to lead the forces of England. The King-elect was young and inexperienced,[1529] and those whom England looked to as her leaders again [Sidenote: Eadwine and Morkere withdraw their forces.] proved faithless. Eadwine and Morkere had consented to the election of Eadgar, as nine months before they had consented to the election of Harold. But of giving loyal support to either prince they never dreamed. The forces of Northumberland were again refused to the defence of Wessex. For Wessex, for East-Anglia, Eadgar and William might strive as they would. William would perhaps be content with that portion of the realm which formed the immediate possession of the personal foe whom he had overthrown. With the House of Leofric, with the men of Northumberland, William had no quarrel. Perhaps he might be content not to attack them. At all events, the forces of Northumberland and North-western Mercia would be better reserved for the defence of their own homes. Eadwine and Morkere then, with the levies of their Earldoms, withdrew to Northumberland, and left Eadgar and England to their fate.[1530]

[Sidenote: Resistance hopeless after the defection of the Earls.]

This was the consummation of the manifold treasons of the sons of Ælfgar. An united England might yet have resisted; for a divided England there was no hope. A people who could not agree under any leader of their own race, became of necessity the prey of the stranger.[1531] But the fault rested wholly with the men who preferred their own selfish interests to the public welfare. The patriotic zeal of the men of London was thwarted by the base secession [Sidenote: No further general combination against William.] of the Northern traitors. By their act all was lost. After the day of Senlac William never again met Englishmen in a pitched battle. He experienced much gallant local resistance before his power was fully established over the whole land. But never again did he see the forces of all England, or even the forces of all Wessex, drawn out against him. Indeed it does not seem that any English weapon, save those of the great city itself, was again lifted against him till his formal investiture with the kingship of England enabled him to treat all further opposition as rebellion.

[Sidenote: William returns to Hastings. October 15.]

While England was thus betrayed and ruined within the walls of London, the Conqueror was, step by step, taking possession of the devoted land. He had returned, as we have seen, to Hastings, in the hope of receiving an immediate submission.[1532] In that hope he remained in his camp for five days.[1533] During that time he also received some reinforcements from Normandy to supply the serious losses which the battle had inflicted on his army.[1534] As no English homagers came in to him, he now thought it time to set [Sidenote: He does not march at once on London.] forth to follow up his great success by force of arms. But he had no intention of marching at once upon London. It again was William’s policy to bide his time. He no doubt fully understood the state of the case; he felt certain that the divided land, deprived of its one born leader, would never organize any general or effective resistance. He knew that in a short time he would either be able to overcome local resistance piecemeal, or else the English, unable to unite under a single native chief, would submit to him in sheer despair. It was therefore his policy not to hasten. But it was equally his policy not to remain idle. His policy in fact was much the same in England as it had been in Maine. Political and military reasons alike bade him to secure the south-eastern portions of England before he hazarded any attack on the great city. Six days therefore after the battle, William began his eastward march along the south coast.

[Sidenote: He marches to Romney. October 20,]

The first point which he reached was Romney, where he was within the borders of the ancient Kingdom of Kent. Romney was, in those days, no less than Pevensey, a famous haven, but the physical agencies which have wrought so much change along that whole line of coast, have destroyed the importance of the town by removing the sea from its immediate neighbourhood. Like most of the havens of this coast, it was endowed with special privileges, and in return for them it was expected to take its share in the naval defence of the land.[1535] The men of Romney had not been [Sidenote: Norman stragglers killed at Romney.] slack in the discharge of that duty. They had, as we have seen, at some time before the great battle,[1536] cut in pieces a body of Norman stragglers, for whose blood William now came to take vengeance. It was his policy now, as ever, to be harsh wherever he met with resistance and gentle to [Sidenote: William’s politic ravages.] all who submitted easily. The line of his march was marked by ceaseless ravage,[1537] ravage inflicted, no doubt, like the ravages before the battle, with a deliberate purpose. Before the battle, he had wished to provoke Harold to come to the rescue of his suffering subjects.[1538] He now wished to strike terror, and thereby to bring about submission. Harrying then as he went, William reached [Sidenote: His vengeance at Romney.] Romney. The words which describe his doings there are short, pithy, and terrible. “He took what vengeance he would for the slaughter of his men.”[1539]

The next point of his march was one where he might [Sidenote: He marches to Dover. October 21.] expect to be checked by an obstacle such as he would seldom meet with in any part of the land which he had entered.[1540] The famous cliff of Dover was already defended [Sidenote: Dover Castle.] by a castle before which William might have looked for a siege as long and as weary as those which he had gone through before Brionne, Domfront, and Arques. 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.[1541] 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 [Sidenote: Works of Harold at Dover.] 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.[1542] It may well be that the evil deed of Eustace had called special attention 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.[1543] [Sidenote: Strength of the fortress.] 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.[1544] 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.[1545]

[Sidenote: Dover surrenders without resistance.]

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.[1546] 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 probability 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.[1547] 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 [Sidenote: William’s clemency.] and castle were freely surrendered into his hands.[1548] 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.[1549] 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. [Sidenote: The town accidentally burned.] But some of the unruly soldiers of his army felt themselves defrauded of their expected plunder, and they had recourse to the usual 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 [Sidenote: William makes good the loss to the owners.] burned.[1550] But the politic liberality of the Duke made good their losses to the owners of the destroyed houses,[1551] and the offenders were only sheltered from punishment by their numbers and by the baseness of their condition.[1552] William [Sidenote: He strengthens the castle.] remained at Dover eight days. He further strengthened the fortifications of the castle,[1553] which now received that Norman garrison with which Harold had failed to people it. The sick, who were a numerous body, were left behind, and William marched on, ready to receive other surrenders or to subdue other opponents.[1554]

[Sidenote: The Kentish towns submit.]

The politic severity of William at Romney and his no less politic lenity at Dover did their work effectually. There was no King, no national army, in the field; each town or district had to shift for itself and to defend itself how it could. The examples of Romney and Dover showed that, for each isolated place, submission was a safer course than [Sidenote: He marches towards Canterbury (October 29), and receives the submission of the city on the road.] resistance. The fear of William’s name fell upon all the towns and villages of Kent, and they were not slow in making their submission.[1555] First among them was the head of the ancient Kingdom, the famous metropolis of England.[1556] As William was on his march from Dover to Canterbury, messengers met him bearing the submission of the city. They brought hostages and the tribute due by custom from the citizens to the King.[1557] The example of the local capital was soon followed by the other towns of the shire. From all parts of Kent men came to do their homage to the Conqueror, to offer him gifts, and, as his own poet adds, to kiss his feet.[1558] At an unknown point in [Sidenote: He encamps at the Broken Tower. October 31.] the neighbourhood of Canterbury, known as the Broken Tower, William pitched his camp, and, like his rival earlier in the year,[1559] he was here somewhat checked in his progress by a severe sickness.[1560] Like Harold, he is said to have [Sidenote: His sickness.] struggled with all his power against the weakness of the flesh; but it is plain that his sickness acted as a real check to his advance, for he remained in the neighbourhood of the Kentish capital for a whole month.[1561] But even this time of constrained inaction was not wasted. Where William could not be present in the flesh, he could be present by the terror of his name and in the persons of his messengers. Kent and Sussex might now be looked on as conquered. [Sidenote: He sends an embassy to Winchester.] William now stretched forth his hands to the West, and sought for the submission of the ancient capital of the West-Saxon [Sidenote: Position of Eadgyth.] Kings. Winchester, the city of Ælfred and Cnut, once the morning-gift of Emma, was now again the morning-gift and the dwelling-place of the widowed Eadgyth.[1562] It was on every ground, political and military, a great object to obtain early possession of so important a city. It was also a manifest part of William’s policy to put himself into friendly relations with the widow of the King whose lawful successor he gave himself out to be. Out of deference, we are told, to the widowed Lady, he would not appear before the city in any military array; he simply sent messengers to the magistrates of Winchester asking for submission and tribute.[1563] Eadgyth, as we have seen, was perhaps actually William’s partizan; at all events she had no motive to run any risk either on behalf of the young Eadgar [Sidenote: Winchester submits.] or on behalf of the Mercian brothers. She took counsel with the chief men of her city, and the result of their debates was at once to offer their submission to the Duke, accompanied with gifts both from the Lady and from the citizens.[1564] William had not yet been two months in England; since his great victory he had had no occasion to strike a blow; and the strongest fortress in England, the ancient ecclesiastical metropolis, and the ancient temporal capital, were already in his hands.

[Sidenote: London still holds out.]

But there was one spot where another spirit reigned; there was one city which even now had no mind to bow to the invader. The men of London, whose forefathers had beaten back Swend and Cnut, whose brothers had died around the Standard of Harold, were not men to surrender their mighty city, defended by its broad river and its [Sidenote: William sets out for London, c. December 1.] Roman walls,[1565] without at least meeting the invader in the field. William, master of Dover, Canterbury, and Winchester, now directed his march along the old Roman road, directly on the great city.[1566] He marched on, ravaging, burning, and slaughtering as he went,[1567] and drew near to the southern bank of the river. One account seems to describe him as occupying Westminster—therefore as crossing the river—as planting his military engines by Saint Peter’s minster, and as beginning, or at least threatening, a formal siege of the city.[1568] But nothing in the whole story is plainer than that William did not cross the river till long after. A more credible version represents him as sending before him a body of five hundred knights, whether simply to reconnoitre or in the hope of gaining anything by a [Sidenote: Skirmish, and burning of Southwark.] sudden attack. The citizens sallied; a skirmish followed; the English were beaten back within the walls; the southern suburb of the city, Southwark, where Godwine had waited in his own house for the gathering of two memorable assemblies, was given to the flames.[1569] The pride of the citizens was supposed to be somewhat lowered by this twofold blow;[1570] but it is plain that William did not yet venture any direct attack on the city. His ships were far away, and the bridge of London would have been a spot even less suited for an onslaught of Norman cavalry than the hill-side of Senlac. He trusted to the gradual working of fear and of isolation even on the hearts of those valiant [Sidenote: He keeps on the right bank of the Thames, and marches to Wallingford.] citizens. He kept on the right bank of the Thames, harrying as he went, through Surrey, Hampshire, and Berkshire, till at Wallingford a ford and a bridge supplied safe and convenient means of crossing for his army.[1571] He was now in the shire of the brave Sheriff Godric, in a King’s town, part of which seems to have been set aside as a sort of special barrack or garrison for the King’s Housecarls.[1572] But the stout heart of the lord of Fifhide had ceased to beat; Sheriff and Housecarls alike had dealt their last blow for England on the far South-Saxon hill. No force was ready on the bridge of Wallingford to bar the approach of [Sidenote: He crosses the Thames into Mercia.] the invader. He passed the great border stream, and for the first time set foot on Mercian soil. He was now on the old battle-ground of Bensington, where Angle and Saxon, now being fast united in one common bondage, had in other days fought out their border quarrels.[1573] He passed beneath the hills, so marked in the distance by their well-known clumps, where the Briton had, in yet earlier days, bid defiance to the conquerors of the world. He was now within the Diocese whence the voice of England had driven his unworthy countryman, the Norman Ulf, the Bishop who did nought bishoplike.[1574] He was now within the Earldom which his own hand had made vacant, when he avenged the fall of his Spanish horse by the fall of a son of Godwine.[1575] [Sidenote: He still does not march on London; reason of his course.] But he still did not march straight upon London. His plan evidently was to surround the city with a wide circle of conquered and desolated country, till sheer isolation should compel its defenders to submit. South and west of London, he was master from Dover to Wallingford; his course was now to march on, keeping at some distance from the city, till the lands north and east of London should be as thoroughly wasted and subdued as the lands south of the [Sidenote: He reaches Berkhampstead.] Thames. He followed out this plan till he reached Berkhampstead in Hertfordshire.[1576] But by this time the spirit of London itself had failed. The blow which had been dealt at Senlac had at last reached the heart of England. At Berkhampstead the second act of William’s great work was played out. The Conquest there received the formal ratification of the conquered.[1577]

[Sidenote: Esegar chief in command in London.]

The chief military command in London was in the hands of the wounded Staller Esegar, the Sheriff of the Middle-Saxons. His wound was so severe that he could neither walk nor ride, but was carried about the city in a litter.[1578] But he is spoken of as being the soul of all the counsels taken by the defenders of London.[1579] The defection of the Northern Earls had left him the layman of highest rank in the city, the natural protector and military adviser of [Sidenote: Tale of his communications] the young King-elect. A tale is told of messages which are said to have gone to and fro between Esegar and [Sidenote: with William.] William. But it is hard to know how far we ought to believe a story which implies that London was besieged by William, which it certainly was not.[1580] William, we [Sidenote: William’s secret message.] are told, sent a secret message to Esegar. He asked only for a formal acknowledgement of his right. Let William have the name of King, and all things in the Kingdom should be ruled according to the bidding of the Sheriff of the Middle-Saxons.[1581] Esegar listens; he has no intention of yielding even thus far, but he thinks it prudent to dissemble. [Sidenote: Esegar summons an assembly, and proposes a feigned submission to William] He summons an Assembly, among the members of which we may possibly discern the forerunners of the famous Aldermen of London.[1582] He sets forth the general sad estate of the country and the special dangers of the besieged city. It would be prudent to send a cunning messenger who should entrap the invader with wily words. Let him offer a feigned submission, which might at least cause delay and stave off the immediate danger.[1583] The [Sidenote: Esegar’s messenger deceived by William.] messenger went; but to deceive William was found to be no such easy matter. The fox—it is his own poetical panegyrist who makes the comparison—is not to be caught in a trap laid in open day.[1584] William pretends to accept the proposals of Esegar, the exact details of which are not told us.[1585] But he wins over the messenger by crafty speeches, backed by gifts and by promises greater than the gifts.[1586] The messenger goes back to London to enlarge on the might, the wisdom, the just rights, and the various excellences of William.[1587] The invader is one whom it is on every ground hopeless to resist. His intentions are friendly; he offers peace to the city; wisdom [Sidenote: Submission to William agreed on.] dictates one course only, that of immediate submission to such a candidate for the Kingdom.[1588] The people applaud; the Senate approves; both orders—their distinct action is clearly marked—vote at once to forsake the cause of the young Ætheling,[1589] and to make their submission to the conquering Duke.

[Sidenote: Eadgar, Ealdred, and others submit to William at
Berkhampstead.]

Whatever truth there may be in this story, it is certain that a resolution to the same effect as that described by the poet was actually come to within the walls of London. While William was at Berkhampstead, an embassy came to submit and to do homage to him, an embassy which might be fairly looked upon as having a right to speak in the name of at least Southern England. Thither came Eadgar, a King deposed before he was full King. Thither came the Metropolitan of York, perhaps also the Metropolitan of Canterbury. Thither came at least two other Bishops, Wulfstan of Worcester and Walter of Hereford, and with them came the best men of London, and many other of the chief men of England.[1590] And on a sad and shameful errand they came. They came to make their submission to the invader and to pray him to accept the Crown of England. The defection of the Northern Earls, the terror struck into men’s hearts by William’s ravages, had done their work. They bowed to him for need.[1591] Hard indeed the need was, but the need stared them in the face; men of cold wisdom even said that they ought to have bowed to William long before.[1592] They sware oaths to him [Sidenote: William’s promises and gracious reception of Eadgar.] and gave him hostages.[1593] William received his new subjects graciously; to the young rival who had so easily fallen before him he was specially gracious. The kiss of peace was given by the Conqueror to Eadgar and to his companions,[1594] and he pledged his word that he would be good Lord to them.[1595] Such a submission on the part of so many men of such lofty rank might of itself be deemed [Sidenote: William invited to accept crown.] equivalent to an election to the Crown. But a more direct requisition seems not to have been wanting. It was probably at Berkhampstead[1596] that William was, as we are told, prayed by the chief men of England, spiritual and temporal, to accept the vacant Crown. They needed a King; they had always been used to submit to a crowned King and to none other.[1597] Here we may clearly see the almost superstitious [Sidenote: Feelings of Englishmen at the moment.] importance which was then attached to the ceremony of coronation. The uncrowned Eadgar had been no full King, and he had been unable to defend his people. The armed candidate who was encamped at Berkhampstead [Sidenote: Policy of submission.] was no longer to be withstood by force of arms. The best course was to acknowledge and receive him at once, and by the mystic rite of consecration to change him from a [Sidenote: Example of Cnut.] foreign invader into an English King. We must bear in mind that men were living who could remember how an earlier foreign invader had been changed into an English King, into a King who had won his place among the noblest of England’s native worthies. England had accepted Cnut the Dane, and she had flourished under him as she had never flourished before or since. Men might hope that the like good luck would follow on their [Sidenote: Comparison between William and Cnut.] acceptance of William the Norman. William in truth promised better than Cnut in every way. Instead of a half-heathen Sea-king, he was the model prince of Europe, the valiant soldier, the wise ruler, the pious son of the Church, the prince who, among unparalleled difficulties, had raised his paternal Duchy to a state of prosperity and good government which made it the wonder and the envy of continental lands. The hopes of those who dreamed that William would prove a second Cnut were doomed to be woefully disappointed. But such hopes were at the time, if not reasonable, at all events plausible. It is easy to understand how men may have been led away by them. [Sidenote: Seeming judgement of God in William’s favour.] Men too, especially churchmen, might easily argue that the event had proved that it was God’s will that William should be received. Harold had appealed to God’s judgement upon the field of battle,[1598] and the verdict of God’s judgement had been given against him. Those who had fought under the banner of the Fighting Man against the banner of the Apostle were proved to have been in truth men fighting against God. All these arguments, backed by the presence in the land of William’s victorious army, would have their effect upon men’s minds. We can even understand that they might produce something more than a mere sullen submission to physical force. We can understand that men may have brought themselves to a belief, unwilling indeed, but not either absolutely compulsory or absolutely hypocritical, that the King who had been so visibly sent to them by the hand of God ought to be [Sidenote: Artificial frame of mind of Englishmen at the time.] frankly and loyally acknowledged. We can believe that the request made by so many Englishmen that the Conqueror would at once assume the English Crown was made in an artificial but not a dishonest frame of mind. It was made in that state of artificial hope, even of artificial eagerness, which is not uncommon in men who are striving to make the best of a bad bargain. For the moment they really wished for William as their King. But it was only for the moment that the wish lasted.

[Sidenote: William calls a Council of his officers.]

The Crown was thus offered to William, but we are told that it was by no means eagerly accepted by him. He summoned a Council of his chief officers and advisers[1599]—we are hardly to suppose a Norman military Gemót—and laid the matter before them. Possibly he merely wished to prove the minds of his friends and followers; possibly the arguments which they brought forward had real weight with him. [Sidenote: His professed unwillingness to accept the Crown at once.] Was it, he asked, expedient for him to take the Crown, while he was still so far from being in complete possession of the Kingdom?[1600] We must remember that though the Prelates of York, Worcester, and Hereford were in William’s camp, yet York, Worcester, and Hereford were not in [Sidenote: Extent of William’s actual authority in England.] William’s hands. William had actual possession only of the south-eastern shires. His authority reached westward as far as Winchester, northward as far as his plunderers could go from the spot where he was now encamped. Was it prudent then, he argued, so hastily to assume a kingship which, in the greater part of the land, would [Sidenote: He wishes his wife to be crowned with him.] still be kingship only in name? He wished moreover—and here we may believe that William spoke from the heart—that whenever he should be raised into a crowned King, his beloved and faithful Duchess might be there to share his honours.[1601] He asked then the opinion of the Assembly as to the immediate acceptance of the Crown which was pressed upon him.

The military Council was strongly in favour of William’s acceptance of the Crown, but the decisive answer was given, not by any of William’s native subjects, but by [Sidenote: Speech of Hamon of Thouars.] one of the most eminent of the foreign volunteers. Hamon, Viscount of Thouars, a man, we are told, as ready of speech as he was valiant in fight,[1602] had, on the height of Telham, been the first to hail the Duke as a future King.[1603] He was not unwilling that the words which had then fallen from him as an omen should now assume full shape and substance. The Aquitanian chief began in a courtly strain, by praising the condescension of the general who deigned to take the opinion of his soldiers on such a point. It was not, he said, a matter for much deliberation, when all were united in one wish. It was the desire of every man in William’s army to see his lord become a King as soon as might be.[1604] To make William a King was the very object for which all of them had crossed the sea, the object for which they had exposed themselves to the dangers of the deep and of the battle.[1605] As for England itself, the wisest men in England, the highest in rank and character, were there, offering the kingship of their land to William. They doubtless knew best what was for the good of their own country. They clearly saw in William a fit man to reign over them, one under whose rule themselves and their country would flourish.[1606] An offer thus pressed on him [Sidenote: William determines to accept the Crown at once.] from all sides it was clearly his duty to accept. William, we are told, weighed what was said, and determined at once to accept the Crown. He felt that, if he were once crowned King, the magic of the royal name would have its effect. It would do something to damp the spirit of resistance in the still unsubdued portions of the country. Men who were eager to fight against a mere foreign invader, would be less inclined to withstand a King formally chosen and consecrated according to the Laws of the Kingdom.[1607] The Duke of the Normans therefore signified to the English embassy his readiness at once to assume [Sidenote: The coronation fixed for Christmas.] the kingship of England. The day for the consecration of the King-elect was of course fixed for the great Festival of the Church which was drawing near. The Midwinter Feast was to be again held at Westminster by a crowned King. On the Feast of the Nativity, within less than a full year from the consecration of the minster itself, the church of Eadward was to behold another King crowned and anointed within its walls. Events had indeed followed fast on one another since the Christmas Gemót of the last year had been held by the last King of the House of Cerdic.

[Sidenote: Position of William.]

The Conqueror was thus King-elect. His plans had [Sidenote: Triumph of his policy.] answered. His arts and his arms had been alike successful. And the triumph of his subtlety had been specially his own. It was the chance shot of an arrow which had overcome the English King, but it was William’s own policy which had overcome the English people. King in truth only by the edge of the sword, he had so managed matters that he had now the formal right to call himself King, not only by the bequest of Eadward but by the election of the English people. But, having won this great success of his craft, he was not inclined to jeopard what he had won by the neglect of any needful military [Sidenote: He sends to fortify a post in London.] precaution. He did not trust himself in London till his position there was secured, till some steps had been taken towards holding the lofty spirit of the citizens in check. He sent on a detachment before him to prepare a fortress in or close to the city.[1608] This was doubtless one of those hasty structures of wood of which we have heard at Brionne[1609] and at Arques;[1610] but it was the germ which grew into the noblest work of Norman military art, the mighty Tower of Gundulf. Orders were also sent to make everything ready for the reception of the new King and for the great [Sidenote: Opposite accounts of William’s conduct.] ceremony of his inauguration. Of William’s conduct meanwhile two exactly opposite pictures are given us by the Norman and by the English writers. His panegyrist tells us that all was quiet and peaceful; as there were no longer any human foes to be slaughtered, William could carry on his favourite warfare with the denizens of the air and of the forest.[1611] The English writers, on the other hand, tell us how, notwithstanding the submission of his new subjects, notwithstanding his own promises to them, the King-elect still allowed his soldiers to harry the country and burn the towns.[1612] There is probably truth [Sidenote: Ravage probably not ordered, but much irregular damage done.] in both accounts. William had no longer any motive for systematic ravages, such as he had been guilty of before and after the battle. No records of any devastations in Hertfordshire remain, such as the records which we have seen of his devastations in Sussex.[1613] But we have seen also, from what happened at Dover,[1614] how hard it was to control men, many of whom doubtless thought that whatever was left to an Englishman was something taken from themselves. We have seen also that, from whatever cause, William, though he indemnified the sufferers, failed to punish the criminals. We may believe that something of the same sort took place now. Systematic ravages, carried on by the Duke’s order, doubtless stopped, but the excesses of his army, the amount of burning and plundering done without his order, but which he failed to check or to punish, was doubtless considerable.

[Sidenote: William marches to London.]

From Berkhampstead to London, whatever was the amount of damage done by the way, William marched on without opposition.[1615] When the preparations which were to keep the city in subjection were completed, William drew near in readiness for the great rite which was to change the Conqueror into a King. As to the place of the ceremony there could be no doubt. William was to be crowned in the church which had been reared by his kinsman and predecessor, and where his mortal remains, lifeless, yet undecayed, and already displaying their wonder-working powers, lay as it were to welcome him.[1616] William was thus to be consecrated within the same temple where Harold had been consecrated less than a year before. He was to be consecrated with the same [Sidenote: Alleged refusal of Stigand to consecrate William.] rites and by the same hand. I wish we could believe, on the report of some later English writers, that William sought for consecration at the hands of Stigand, and that the high-souled Primate refused to pour the holy unction on the head of an usurper and a man of blood.[1617] But had William offered to be crowned by Stigand, he would indeed have fallen away from his character as the reformer of English ecclesiastical discipline.[1618] The act too would have been equivalent to giving up one of his three counts against England;[1619] it would have been an acknowledgement that Archbishop Robert had been lawfully deposed. The scruple which had affected even the mind of Harold, would probably be really felt by William with ten times as great force; it would certainly be professed by him [Sidenote: Stigand not allowed to consecrate William.] with ten times as great ostentation. The special favourite and champion of Rome could not, in common consistency, ask for consecration at the hands of a Primate whom Rome had declared to be no Primate at all, and who had no pallium save that which he had received from an usurper of [Sidenote: Position of Stigand; his share in the ceremony.] the Holy See.[1620] Still Stigand, though not a lawful Primate, was at least an ordained Priest and a consecrated Bishop; he might perhaps even be recognized as the lawful occupant of the see of Winchester. He was also personally the first man in England, to whom it was William’s policy for the present to avoid giving any needless offence. He was therefore allowed to take a part in the ceremony second only to that of the actual celebrant. But the sacramental rite itself was to be performed by the hands [Sidenote: The actual consecration performed by Ealdred.] of Ealdred. The Northern Primate was the only canonical Metropolitan in the realm, and he was the man who, as having been the leader of the embassy at Berkhampstead, might be looked on as having been the first Englishman to take a formal part in making William King.[1621] The Primate of Northumberland had thus in one year to anoint two Kings, the champion of England and her Conqueror. He had to anoint both far away from his own province, and to anoint both at a time when he could in no way pledge himself that the willing consent of his province should confirm his own formal act.

[Sidenote: Coronation of William. December 25.]

The Christmas morn at last came; and once more, as on the day of the Epiphany, a King-elect entered the portals of the West Minster to receive his Crown. But [Sidenote: The approach to the church guarded by Norman horseman.] now, unlike the day of the Epiphany, the approach to the church was kept by a guard of Norman horsemen.[1622] Otherwise all was peaceful. Within the church all was in readiness; a new crown, rich with gems,[1623] was ready for the ceremony; a crowd of spectators of both nations [Sidenote: The Coronation procession.] filled the minster. The great procession then swept on.[1624] A crowd of clergy bearing crosses marched first; then followed the Bishops; lastly, surrounded by the chief men of his own land and of his new Kingdom, came the renowned Duke himself, with Ealdred and Stigand on either side of him.[1625] Amid the shouts of the people, William the Conqueror passed on to the royal seat before the high altar, there to go through the same solemn rites which had so lately been gone through on the same spot by his fallen rival. The Te Deum which had been sung [Sidenote: William elected before the altar.] over Harold was now again sung over William. And now again, in ancient form, the crowd that thronged the minster was asked whether they would that the candidate who stood before them should be crowned King over the land. But now a new thing, unknown to the coronation of Eadward or of Harold, had to mark the coronation of William. A King was to be crowned who spake not our ancient tongue, and, with him, many who knew not the speech of England stood there to behold the rite. It was therefore not enough for Ealdred to demand in his native tongue whether the assembled crowd consented to the consecration of the Duke of the Normans. The question had to be put a second time in French by Geoffrey, Bishop of Coutances, one of the Prelates who had borne his part in those rites in the camp at Hastings which had ushered in the day of Saint Calixtus.[1626] The assent of the assembled multitude of both nations was given in ancient form. The voices which on the Epiphany had shouted “Yea, yea, King Harold,” shouted at Christmas with equal apparent zeal, “Yea, yea, King William.” Men’s hearts had not changed, but they had learned, through the events of that awful year, to submit as cheerfully as might be to the doom which could not be escaped.[1627] The shout rang loud through the minster; it reached the ears of the Norman horsemen who kept watch around the building. They had doubtless never before heard the mighty voice of an assembled people. They deemed, or professed to deem, that some evil was being done to the [Sidenote: The Norman horsemen fire the houses near the church.] newly chosen sovereign. Instead however of rushing in to his help, they hastened, with the strange instinct of their nation, to set fire to the buildings around the minster.[1628] [Sidenote: Scene of utter confusion; William and the clergy left alone in the church.] At once all was confusion; the glare was seen, the noise was heard, within the walls of the church. Men and women of all ranks rushed forth to quench the flames or to save their goods, some, it is said, to seek for their chance of plunder in such a scene of terror.[1629] The King-elect, with the officiating Prelates and clergy and the monks of the Abbey, alone remained before the altar. They trembled, and, perhaps for the first and the last time in his life, William trembled also.[1630] His heart had never failed him either in council or in battle, but here was a scene the like of which William [Sidenote: William’s coronation oath.] himself was not prepared to brave. But the rite went on; the trembling Duke took the oaths of an English King, the oaths to do justice and mercy to all within his realm, and a special oath, devised seemingly to meet the case of a foreign King, an oath that, if his people proved loyal to him, he would rule them as well as the best of the Kings who had gone before him.[1631] The prayers and litanies and hymns went on; the rite, hurried and maimed of its splendour, lacked nothing of sacramental virtue or of ecclesiastical [Sidenote: William crowned and anointed King.] significance. All was done in order; while the flames were raging around, amid the uproar and the shouts which surrounded the holy place, Ealdred could still nerve himself to pour the holy oil upon the royal head, to place the rod and the sceptre in the royal hands. In the presence of that small band of monks and Bishops the great rite was brought to its close, and the royal diadem with all its gleaming gems rested firmly on the brow of William, King of the English.

[Sidenote: Summary.]

The work of the Conquest was now formally completed; the Conqueror sat in the royal seat of England. He had claimed the Crown of his kinsman; he had set forth his claim in the ears of Europe; he had maintained it on the field of battle, and now it had been formally acknowledged by the nation over which he sought to rule. As far as words and outward rites went, nothing was now wanting; William was King, chosen, crowned, and anointed. But how far he still was from being in truth ruler over the whole land, the tale which is yet in store will set before us. We have yet to see how gradually William won, how sternly yet how wisely, he ruled, the land which he had conquered. We have to see how, one by one, the native chiefs of England were subdued, won over, or cut off, and how the highest offices and the richest lands of England were parted out among strangers. We have to see the Conqueror in all his might; we have to see him too in those later and gloomier years, when home-bred sorrows gathered thickly around him, and when victory at last ceased to wait upon his banners. At last, by a cycle as strange as any in the whole range of history, we shall follow him to his burial as we have followed him to his crowning, and we shall see the body of the Conqueror lowered to his grave, in the land of his birth and in the minster of his own rearing, amid a scene as wild and awful as that of the day which witnessed his investiture with the royalty of England.