Altogether, narrowly limited as were the legal powers of an ancient English king, his will, or lack of will, had the main influence on the destinies of the nation, and his personal character was of as much moment to the welfare of the State as the personal character of an absolute ruler.

BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE

Kemble, Saxons in England, Vol. II, chaps. i and vi, exaggerates the importance of the Witan. Stubbs, Constitutional History of England, chap. vi, based largely on Kemble. Chadwick, Studies in Anglo-Saxon Institutions (1905), chap. ix and Excursus IV.

PART II

FEUDALISM AND NATIONALISM

CHAPTER I

THE MEN OF LONDON AND THE CORONATION OF WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR

THE Norman Conquest is one of the most striking events in English history, and doubtless it constituted one of the greatest crises in that history, in so far as it brought England into closer contact with continental life and ecclesiastical polity and gave the nation a stronger and better-organized central government. It is difficult to determine, however, just what precise results are to be attributed to that Conquest. Life in town and country probably flowed along in the old course, and a strong king might have been evolved from among the contending princes after Edward the Confessor's death. Such speculation is nevertheless idle, as William of Normandy determined to secure the crown for himself, and, armed by the pope's sanction, he and his followers struck the first blow for the throne at the battle of Hastings. Not long afterwards the metropolis of the realm yielded to the conqueror. § I. The Conqueror's Preparations for the Capture of London1

The men of London, whose forefathers had beaten back Swegen 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 Roman walls, without at least meeting the invader in the field. William, master of Dover, Canterbury, and

1 Freeman, History of the Norman Conquest, Vol. III, chap. xvi. By permission of the Delegates of the Clarendon Press, Oxford,

Winchester, now directed his march along the old Roman road, directly on the great city. He marched on, ravaging, burning, and slaughtering as he went, 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 St. Peter's minster, and as beginning, or at least threatening, a formal siege of the city. 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 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. The pride of the citizens was supposed to be somewhat lowered by this twofold blow; 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 hillside of Senlac. He trusted to the gradual working of fear and of isolation even on the hearts of those valiant 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. 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 house-carls. But the stout heart of the Lord of Fifhide had ceased to beat; sheriff and house-carls 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 the invader. There is even reason to think that the chief man of the place, perhaps the sheriff of the neighboring shire of Oxford, Wiggod of Wallingford, favored the progress of the invader. He had been in high favor with Eadward, and was afterwards in high favor with William, and a son of his lived to die fighting for William in a more worthy cause. However this may be, William passed the great border stream unhindered, and for the first time set foot on Mercian soil. He was now on the old battle-ground of Bensington, whence Angle and Saxon, now being fast united in one common bondage, had in other days fought out their border quarrels. He passed

beneath the hills, so marked in the distance by their well-known clumps, where the Briton had, in 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 naught bishoplike. 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. 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 Thames. He followed out this plan till he reached Berkhampstead in Hertfordshire. 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.

2. London Negotiates with the Conqueror

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. But he is spoken of as being the soul of all the counsels taken by the defenders of London. The defection of the Northern earls had left him the layman of highest rank in the city, the natural protector and military adviser of the young king-elect. A tale is told of messages which are said to have gone to and fro between Esegar and 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. William, we are told, sent a secret message to Esegar. He asked only for a formal acknowledgment 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 MiddleSaxons. Esegar listens; he has no intention of yielding even thus far, but he thinks it prudent to dissemble. He summons an Assembly, among the members of which we may possibly discern the forerunners of the famous aldermen of London. He sets forth

the general sad state 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. The 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. William pretends to accept the proposals of Esegar, the exact details of which are not told us. But he wins over the messenger by crafty speeches, backed by gifts and by promises greater than the gifts. The messenger goes back to London to enlarge on the might, the wisdom, the just rights, and the various excellencies of William. The invader is one whom it is on every ground hopeless to resist. His intentions are friendly; he offers peace to the city; wisdom dictates one course only, that of immediate submission to such a candidate for the kingdom. 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, and to make their submission to the conquering duke.

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. 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. 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. They sware oaths to him and gave him hostages.

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