The World's Greatest Books - Volume 11 Part 27

But there were influences about Eadward which cut off all hope of a peaceful settlement of the matter. Eustace probably still lingered about the king, and there was another voice ever at the royal ear, ever ready to poison the royal mind against the people of England and their leader.

It was the voice of a foreign monk, Archbishop Robert. G.o.dwine and three other earls summoned their followers and demanded the surrender of Eustace, but the frightened king sent for the Northern Earls Siward, Leofric, and Ralph, bidding them bring a force strong enough to keep G.o.dwine in check. Thus the northern and southern sections were arrayed against each other.

There were, however, on the king's side, men who were not willing to see the country involved in civil war. Leofric, the good Earl of Mercia, stood forth as the champion of compromise and peace, and it was agreed that hostilities should be avoided and that the witenagemot should a.s.semble at Michaelmas in London.

Of this truce King Eadward and his foreign advisers took advantage to collect an army, at the head of which they appeared in London. G.o.dwine and his son Harold were summoned to the gemot, but refused to appear without a security for a safe conduct. The hostages and safe-conduct were refused. The refusal was announced by Bishop Stigand to the earl as he sat at his evening meal. The bishop wept; the earl sprang to his feet, overthrew the table, leaped on his horse, and, with his sons, rode for his life all that night. In the morning the king held his witenagemot, and by a vote of the king and his whole army, G.o.dwine and his sons were declared outlaws, but five days were allowed them to get out of the land. G.o.dwine, Swegen, Tostig, and Gyrth, together with Gytha and Judith, the newly-married wife of Tostig, set sail for Bruges in a s.h.i.+p laden with as much treasure as it would hold. They reached the court of Flanders in safety, were honourably received by the count, and pa.s.sed the whole winter with him.

Two of G.o.dwine's sons, however, sought another refuge. Harold and his younger brother Leofwine determined on resistance, and resolved to seek shelter among the Danish settlers in Ireland, where they were cordially received by King Diarmid. For the moment the overthrow of the patriotic leaders in England was complete, and the dominion of the foreigners over the feeble mind of the king was complete. It was while G.o.dwine dwelt as an exile at Bruges, and Harold was planning schemes of vengeance in the friendly court of Dublin, that William the b.a.s.t.a.r.d, afterwards known as William the Conqueror, paid his memorable visit to England, that visit which has already been referred to as a stage, and a most important one, among the immediate causes of the Norman Conquest.

Stirring events followed in quick succession. General regret was felt among all patriotic Englishmen at the absence of G.o.dwine. The common voice of England soon began to call for the return of the banished earl, who was looked to by all men as the father of his country. England now knew that in his fall a fatal blow had been dealt to her own welfare and freedom. And G.o.dwine, after sending many pet.i.tions to the king, vainly pet.i.tioning for a reconciliation, determined to return by force, satisfied that the great majority of Englishmen would be less likely to resist him than to join his banners.

Harold sailed from Ireland to meet his father by way of the English Channel. G.o.dwine sailed up the Thames, and London declared for him.

Panic reigned among the favourites of King Eadward. The foreigners took to flight, among the fugitives being Archbishop Robert and Bishop Ulf.

The gemot met and decreed the restoration of the earl and the outlawry of many Normans. The king yielded, and accorded to G.o.dwine the kiss of peace, and a revolution was accomplished of which England may well be proud.

But a tragedy soon followed, in the death of the most renowned Englishman of that generation. During a meal at the Easter festival G.o.dwine fell from his seat, and died after lying insensible for three days. Great was the grief of the nation. Harold, in the years that followed, became so increasingly popular that he was virtually chief ruler of England, even before the death of Eadward, which happened on January 5, 1066. His burial was followed by the coronation of Harold.

But the moment of struggle was now come. The English throne had become vacant, and the Norman duke knew how to represent himself as its lawful heir, and to brand the king of the nation's choice as an usurper. The days of debate were past, and the sword alone could decide between England and her enemy.

William found one Englishman willing to help him in all his schemes, in the person of Tostig, Harold's brother, who had been outlawed at the demand of the nation, owing to his unfitness to rule his province as Earl of Northumberland. He had sunk from bad to worse. Harold had done all he could for his fallen brother, but to restore him was impossible.

Tostig was at the Norman court, urging William to the invasion of England. At his own risk, he was allowed to make an incursion on the English coast. Entering the Humber, he burned several towns and slew many men. But after these ravages Tostig repaired to ask help of Harold Hardrada, whom he induced to prepare a great expedition.

Harold Hardrada and Tostig landed and marched towards York. A battle was fought between the Mercians and Norwegians at Fulford, in which the former were worsted, but Harold was marching northward. In the fearful battle of Stamford Bridge both Harold Hardrada and Tostig were slain, and the Viking host was shattered. The victorious English king was banqueting in celebration of the great victory, when a messenger appeared who had come at fleetest pace from the distant coast of Suss.e.x.

One blow had been warded off, but another still more terrible had fallen. Three days after the fight at Stamford Bridge, William, Duke of the Normans, once the peaceful guest of Edward, had again, but in quite another guise, made good his landing on the sh.o.r.es of England. It was in August 1066 that the Norman fleet had set sail on its great enterprise.

For several weeks a south wind had been waited for at the mouth of the River Dive, prayers and sacred rites of every kind being employed to move Heaven to send the propitious breeze. On September 28 the landing was effected at Pevensey, the ancient Anderida. There were neither, s.h.i.+ps nor men to resist the landing. The first armed man who set foot on English ground was Duke William himself, whose foot slipped, so that he fell with both hands on the ground.

A loud cry of grief was raised at the evil omen. But the ready wit of William failed him not. "By the splendour of G.o.d," he cried, "I have taken seizin of my kingdom; the earth of England is in my hands." The whole army landed in order, but only one day was spent at Pevensey. On the next day the army marched on eastward and came to Hastings, which was fixed on as the centre of the operations of the whole campaign.

It was a hard lot for the English king to be compelled to hasten southward to dislodge the new enemy, after scarcely a moment's rest from the toils and glories of Stamford Bridge. But the heart of Harold failed him not, and the heart of England beat in unison with the heart of her king. As soon as the news came, King Harold held a council of the leaders of Stamford Bridge, or perhaps an armed gemot. He told them of the landing of the enemy; he set before them the horrors which would come upon the land if the invader succeeded in his enterprise. A loud shout of a.s.sent rose from the whole a.s.sembly. Every man pledged his faith rather to die in arms than to acknowledge any king but Harold.

The king thanked his loyal followers, and at once ordered an immediate march to the south, an immediate muster of the forces of his kingdom.

London was the trysting-place. He himself pressed on at once with his immediate following. And throughout the land awoke a spirit in every English heart which has never died out to this day. The men from various s.h.i.+res flocked eagerly to the standard of their glorious king. Harold seems to have reached London on October 5, about ten days after the fight at Stamford Bridge, and a week after the Norman landing at Pevensey. Though his royal home was now at Westminster, he went, in order to seek divine help and succour, to pray at Waltham, the home of his earlier days, devoting one day to a pilgrimage to the Holy Cross which gave England her war-cry.

Harold and William were now both eager for the battle. The king set out from London on October 12. His consummate generals.h.i.+p is nowhere more plainly shown than in this memorable campaign. He formed his own plan, and he carried it out. He determined to give battle, but only on his own ground, and after his own fas.h.i.+on. The nature of the post shows that his real plan was to occupy a position where the Normans would have to attack him at a great disadvantage.

William constrained Harold to fight, but Harold, in his turn, constrained William to fight on ground of Harold's own choosing. The latter halted at a point distant about seven miles from the headquarters of the invaders, and pitched his camp upon the ever-memorable heights of Senlac. It was his policy not to attack. He occupied and fortified a post of great natural strength, which he speedily made into what is distinctly spoken of as a castle.

The hill of Senlac, now occupied by the abbey and town of Battle, commemorates in its later name the great event of which it was the scene.

The morning of the decisive day, Sat.u.r.day, October 14, at last had come.

The duke of the Normans heard ma.s.s, and received the communion in both kinds, and drew forth his troops for their march against the English post. Then in full armour, and seated on his n.o.ble Spanish war-horse, William led his host forth in three divisions. The Normans from the hill of Telham first caught sight of the English encamped on the opposite height of Senlac.

First in each of the three Norman divisions marched the archers, slingers, and cross-bow men, then the more heavily-armed infantry, lastly the hors.e.m.e.n. The reason of this arrangement is clear. The light-armed were to do what they could with their missiles to annoy the English; the heavy infantry were to strive to break down the palisades of the English camp, and so to make ready the way for the charge of the horse.

Like the Normans, the English had risen early. The king, after exhorting his troops to stand firm, rode to the royal post; he there dismounted, took his place on foot, and prayed to G.o.d for help. The battle began at nine in the morning--one of the sacred hours of the church. The trumpet sounded, and a flight of arrows from all three Norman divisions--right, centre, and left,--was the prelude to the onslaught of the heavy-armed foot. The real struggle now began. The French infantry had to toil up the hill, and to break down the palisade, while a shower of stones and javelins disordered their approach, and while club, sword and axe greeted all who came within the reach of hand-strokes.

Both sides fought with unyielding valour. The war-cries rose on either side. The Normans shouted "G.o.d help us!" the English called on the "Holy Cross." The Norman infantry had soon done its best, but that best had been in vain. The choicest chivalry of Europe now pressed on to the attack. The knights of Normandy and of all lands from which men had flocked to William's standard, now pressed on, striving to make what impression they could with the whole strength of themselves and their horses on the impenetrable fortress of timber, s.h.i.+elds, and living warriors.

But all was in vain. The English had thus far stood their ground well and wisely, and the tactics of Harold had so far completely answered.

Not only had every attack failed, but the great ma.s.s of the French army altogether lost heart. The Bretons and the other auxiliaries on the left were the first to give way. Horse and foot alike, they turned and fled.

The whole of William's left wing was thrown into utter confusion.

The strong heart of William, however, failed him not, and by his single prowess and presence of mind he recalled the fleeing troops. Order was soon restored, and the Norman host pressed on to a second and more terrible attack. The duke himself, his relics round his neck, sought out Harold. A few moments more, and the two might have come face to face, but Gyrth, the n.o.ble brother of the English king, hurled a spear at William. The missile narrowly missed the duke, but slew the Spanish steed, the first of three that died under him that day. But William could not fight on foot as well as on horseback. He rose to his feet, pressed straight to seek the man who had so nearly slain him, and the earl fell, crushed beneath the blow of William's mace. Nor did he fall alone, for his brother, Earl Leofwine, was smitten to the earth by an unknown a.s.sailant.

The second attack, however, failed, for the English lines were as unyielding as ever. Direct attack was unavailing. In the Norman character fox and lion were equally blended, as William now showed. He ventured on the daring stratagem of ordering a pretended flight, and the unwary English rushed down the slope, pursuing the fugitive with shouts of delight. The error was fatal to England. The tide was turned; the duke's object was now gained; and the main end of Harold's skilful tactics was frustrated. The English were no longer entrenched, and the battle fell into a series of single combats. As twilight was coming on an arrow, falling like a bolt from heaven, pierced Harold's right eye, and he sank in agony at the foot of the standard. Round that standard the fight still raged, till the highest n.o.bility, the most valiant soldiery of England were slaughtered to a man.

Had Harold lived, had another like him been ready to take his place, we may well doubt whether, even after Senlac, England would have been conquered at all. As it was, from this moment her complete conquest was only a matter of time. From that day forward the Normans began to work the will of G.o.d upon the folk of England, till there were left in England no chiefs of the land of English blood, till all were brought down to bondage and sorrow, till it was a shame to be called an Englishman, and the men of England were no more a people.

JAMES ANTHONY FROUDE

History of England

James Anthony Froude was born at Darlington, England, April 23, 1818, and died on Oct. 20, 1894. He was educated at Westminster, and Oriel College, Oxford. Taking Holy Orders, he was, for a time, deeply influenced by Newman and the Tractarian movement, but soon underwent the radical revolution of thought revealed by his first treatise, the "Nemesis of Faith," which appeared in 1849, and created a sensation. Its tendency to skepticism cost him his fellows.h.i.+p, but its profound pathos, its accent of tenderness, and its fervour excited wide admiration. Permanent fame was secured by the appearance, in 1856, of the first two instalments of his magnificent work, "The History of England, from the Fall of Wolsey to the Defeat of the Armada," the last volume appearing in 1870. This treatise on the middle Tudor period is one of the most fascinating historical treatises in the whole range of literature. It is written in a vivid and graphic prose, and with rare command of the art of picturesque description.

Froude never accepted the doctrine that history should be treated as a science; rather he claimed that the historian should concern himself with the dramatic aspect of the period about which he writes. The student may disagree with many of Froude's points of view and portraitures, yet his men and women breathe with the life he endows them, and their motives are actuated by the forces he sets in motion. Of his voluminous works perhaps the most notable, with the exception of the "History," are his "History of Ireland in the Eighteenth Century," 1871-74, and his "Short Studies on Great Subjects," the latter aptly exhibiting Froude's gifts of masterful prose and glittering paradox.

_I.--The Condition of England_

In periods like the present, when knowledge is every day extending, and the habits and thoughts of mankind are perpetually changing under the influence of new discoveries, it is no easy matter to throw ourselves back into a time in which for centuries the European world grew upon a single type, in which the forms of the father's thoughts were the forms of the son's, and the late descendant was occupied in treading into paths the footprints of his ancestors.

So absolutely has change become the law of our present condition, that to cease to change is to lose place in the great race. Looking back over history, we see times of change and progress alternating with other times when life and thought have settled into permanent forms. Such was the condition of the Greeks through many ages before the Persian wars, and such, again, became the condition of Europe when the Northern nations grafted religion and the laws of the Western empire on their own hardy natures.

A condition of things differing alike both inwardly and outwardly from that into which a happier fortune has introduced ourselves, is necessarily obscure to us. In the alteration of our own characters we have lost the key which would interpret the characters of our fathers.

But some broad conclusions as to what they were are, however, at least possible to us. A rough census taken at the time of the Armada shows that it was something under five millions.

The feudal system, though practically modified, was still the organising principle of the nation, and the owner of land was bound to military service at home whenever occasion required. All land was held upon a strictly military principle. The state of the working cla.s.ses can best be determined by a comparison of their wages with the price of food.

Both were as far as possible regulated by Act of Parliament. Wheat in the fourteenth century averaged 10d. the bushel; beef and pork were 1/2d. a pound; mutton was 3/4d. The best pig or goose could be bought for 4d.; a good capon for 3d.; a chicken for 1d.; a hen for 2d.

Strong-beer, which now costs 1s. 6d. a gallon, was then a 1d. a gallon, and table beer was less than 1/2d.

A penny at the time of which we write must have been nearly equal in the reign of Henry VIII. to the present s.h.i.+lling. For a penny the labourer could buy as much bread, beef, beer, and wine as the labourer of to-day can for a s.h.i.+lling. Turning then to the question of wages, by the 3d of the 6th of Henry VIII., it was enacted that the master, carpenters, masons, bricklayers, tilers, plumbers, glaziers, joiners, and others, employers of skilled workmen should give to each of their journeymen, if no meat and drink was allowed, sixpence a day for the half year, fivepence a day for the other half; or fivepence-half penny for the yearly average. The common labourers were to receive fourpence a day for the half year; for the remaining half, threepence.

The day labourer received what was equivalent to something near twenty s.h.i.+llings a week, the wages at present paid in English colonies; and this is far from being a full account of his advantages. The agricultural labourer held land in connection with his house, while in most parishes there were large ranges of common and unenclosed forest land, which furnished fuel to him gratis, where pigs might range, and ducks and geese, and where, if he could afford a cow, he was in no danger of being unable to feed it; and so important was this privilege considered, that when the commons began to be largely enclosed, Parliament insisted that the working man should not be without some piece of ground on which he could employ his own and his family's industry.

By the 7th of the 31st of Elizabeth it was ordered that no cottage should be built for residence without four acres of land at lowest being attached to it for the sole use of the occupants of such cottage.

The incomes of the great n.o.bles cannot be determined for they varied probably as much as they do now. Under Henry IV. the average income of an earl was estimated at 2,000 a year. Under Henry VIII. the great Duke of Buckingham, the wealthiest English peer, had 6,000. And the income of the Archbishop of Canterbury was rated at the same amount. But the establishments of such men were enormous. Their retinues in time of peace consisted of several hundred persons, and in time of war a large share of the expenses was paid often out of private purses.

Pa.s.sing down to the body of the people, we find that 20 a year and heavy duties to do for it, represented the condition of the squire of the parish. By the 2nd of Henry V. "the wages" of a parish priest were limited to 5 6s. 8d., except in cases where there was a special license from the bishop, when they might be raised as high as 6. Both squire and priest had sufficient for comfort. Neither was able to establish any steep difference between himself and the commons among whom he lived, so far as concerned outward advantages.

The habits of all cla.s.ses were free, open, and liberal. In frank style the people lived in "merry England," displaying the "glory of hospitality," England's pre-eminent boast, by the rules according to which all tables were open to all comers without reserve. To every man, according to his degree, who chose to ask for it, there was free fare and free lodging. The people hated three things with all their hearts--idleness, want, and cowardice.