served to spread new confusion. The inhabitants for some time hesitated between their terrors and their loyalty; but, casting their eyes on every side, they saw no person of valour or authority sufficient to support them in their independence. Edgar Atheling, the right heir to the crown, was a weak and feeble prince, without courage or ambition; all their other leaders were either destroyed, or too remote to lend them assistance. The clergy, who had a large share in the deliberations, declared openly for a prince whose pretensions were acknowledged, and whose arms were blessed, by the holy see. Nothing remained, but to submit to the necessity of the times, and to acknowledge those claims which it was not in their power to oppose. As soon, therefore, as William passed the Thames at Wallingford, Stigand, the primate, made submissions to him in the name of the clergy; and before he came within sight of the city, the chief nobility, and Edgar Atheling himself, who just before had been created king, came into his camp, and declared an intention of yielding to his authority. William was glad of being thus peaceably put in possession of a throne, which several of his predecessors had not gained without repeated victories. He readily accepted the crown upon the terms that were offered him; which were, that he should govern according to the established customs of the country. William, though he had it in his power to dictate his own conditions rather than receive any, chose to have his election considered rather as a gift from his subjects than a measure extorted by him. He knew himself to be a conqueror, but was willing to be thought a legal king.

In order to give his invasion all the sanction possible, he was crowned at Westminster by the archbishop of York, and took the oath usual in the times of the Saxon and Danish kings; which was, to protect and defend the church, to observe the laws of the realm, and to govern the people with impartiality. Having thus given all possible satisfaction to the English, his next care was to reward the many brave adventurers who had followed his fortunes. He first divided the lands of the English barons who opposed him, among the Norman barons who had assisted his enterprise; and such as he could neither supply with money nor lands, he appointed to the vacant offices of the state. But, as there were still numbers unprovided for, he quartered them on the rich abbeys of the kingdom, until better means offered for their advancement. This, which gave no small umbrage to the clergy, was but little resented by the people, who were willing to see their own burthens lightened, by having a part of them laid upon shoulders that were at that time much better able to bear them.

But what gave them great umbrage was, to see him place all real power in the hands of his own countrymen, and still to give them possession of the sword, to which he owed all his authority. He disarmed the city of London, and other places which appeared most warlike and populous, and quartered Norman soldiers in all those places where he most dreaded an insurrection. Having thus secured

the government, and, by a mixture of vigour and lenity, brought the English to an entire submission, he resolved to return to the continent, there to enjoy the triumph and congratulation of his ancient subjects. Having no reason to apprehend any disturbance in his absence among the English, whose affection he had taken such pains to conciliate, he left the regency with his brother Odo bishop of Bayeux, and William Fitz-Osborne. To secure himself yet farther, he resolved to carry along with him all the English noblemen from whose power or inclination he could apprehend a revolt: and, pretending to take great pleasure in their conversation, he set sail with his honourable captives for Normandy, where he was received by his natural subjects with a mixture of admiration and joy. He resided for some time at the abbey of Feschamp, where he was visited by an ambassador from the king of France, sent to congratulate him on his success. William, naturally fond of splendour, received this embassy with great state and magnificence; while his English courtiers, willing to ingratiate themselves with their new sovereign, endeavoured to outshine each other, and made a display of riches which struck foreigners with astonishment. It was probably this foolish ostentation that excited the pride of the Normans to treat men with contempt who were apparently so much above them.

In the meantime, the absence of the Conqueror produced, in England, the most fatal effects. His officers, being no longer controlled by his justice, thought this a fit opportunity for extortion; while the English no longer awed by his presence, thought it the happiest occasion for vindicating their freedom. The two governors he had left behind took all opportunities of oppressing the people; either desiring to provoke them to rebellion, in order to profit by confiscations, or, in case they submitted tamely to their impositions, to grow rich without slaughter. The inhabitants of Kent, who were more immediately exposed to these outrages, having repeated their complaints and remonstrances to no purpose, at length had recourse to Eustace, count of Boulogne, who assisted them in an attack upon the garrison of Dover. But the Normans were upon their guard, and having repulsed the assailants with some slaughter, took the nephew of count Eustace prisoner. This miscarriage did not deter Edric the Forester from repelling the depredations of the Normans, and, in his turn, from wasting their possessions. But though these open hostilities were not very considerable, the disaffection among the English was general, and the people began too late to perceive that strength will ever give laws to justice. A secret conspiracy was therefore formed for destroying all the Normans, as the Danes had been formerly cut off; and this was prosecuted with so much animosity, that the vassals of the earl Coxo put him to death, because he refused to head them against the invaders.

William, being informed of these commotions, hastened over to England, and arrived time enough to prevent the execution of this bloody enterprise. The conspirators had already taken the resolution and fixed the day for the intended massacre, which was to be on

Ash-Wednesday, during the time of divine service, when all the Normans would be unarmed, as penitents, according to the discipline of the times. But his presence quickly disconcerted all their schemes. Such of them as had been more open in their mutiny betrayed their guilt by flight; and this served to confirm the proofs of an accusation against those who remained.

From that time forward the king began to lose all confidence in his English subjects, and to regard them as inveterate and irreconcileable enemies. He had already raised such a number of fortresses in the kingdom, that he no longer dreaded the tumultuous or transient efforts of a discontented multitude; he determined to treat them as a conquered nation, to indulge his own avarice, and that of his followers, by numerous confiscations, and to secure his power by humbling all who were able to make any resistance. The first signal of his arbitrary power was manifested in renewing the odious tax of Danegeld, which had been abolished by Edward the Confessor. This measure produced remonstrances, complaints, and even insurrections, in different parts of the kingdom; but William, conscious of his power, marched against such as were most formidable, and soon compelled them to implore mercy. In this manner the inhabitants of Exeter and Cornwall excited his resentment, and experienced his lenity.

A. D.

1068.

But these insurrections were slight, compared to that in the North, which seemed to threaten the most important consequences. This was excited by the intrigues of Edwin and Morcar, the two most powerful noblemen of the English race, who, joined by Blethyn prince of North Wales, Malcolm king of Scotland, and Sweyn king of Denmark, resolved to make one great effort for the recovery of their ancient liberties. But the vigour and celerity of William destroyed their projects before they were ripe for execution; for, as he advanced towards them at the head of a powerful army, by forced marches, the two earls were so intimidated, that instead of opposing, they had recourse to his clemency, by submission. He did not think proper to reject their advances, but pardoned them without hesitation. A peace which he made with Malcolm, king of Scotland, shortly after, seemed to deprive them of all hopes of future assistance from without the kingdom.

But, whatever the successes of William might have been, the inhabitants, whether English or Normans, were at that time in a most dreadful situation. All the miseries that insolence on one hand, and hatred on the other; that tyranny and treason, suspicion and assassination, could bring upon a people; were there united. The Normans were seen to commit continual insults upon the English; and these vainly sought redress from their partial masters. Legal punishment being denied, they sought for private vengeance; and a day seldom passed but the bodies of assassinated Normans were found in the woods and highways, without any possibility of bringing the perpetrators to justice. Thus, at length, the conquerors themselves began again to wish for the tranquillity and security of

their native country; and several of them, though intrusted with great commands, desired to be dismissed from the service. In order to prevent these desertions, which William highly resented, he was obliged to allure others to stay, by the largeness of his bounties. These brought on fresh exactions, and new insurrections were the natural consequences.

The inhabitants of Northumberland, impatient of their yoke, attacked the Norman garrison in Durham, and taking advantage of the governor's negligence, put him, with seven hundred of his men, to the sword. The Norman governor of York shared the same fate; and the insurgents, being re-enforced by the Danes, and some leaders from Scotland, attacked the castle, which was defended by a garrison of three thousand men. Mallet, its governor, that he might the better provide for its defence, set fire to some houses which lay contiguous; but the fire spreading, the whole city was quickly in flames. This proved the cause of his destruction; for the enraged inhabitants, joining in the assault, entered the citadel sword in hand, and cut off the whole garrison, without mercy. This transient gleam of success seemed to spread a general spirit of insurrection. The counties of Somerset, Dorset, Cornwall, and Devon, united in the common cause, and determined to make one great effort for the recovery of their former freedom.

William, undaunted amidst this scene of confusion, assembled his forces, and led them towards the North, conscious that his presence alone would be sufficient to repress these rude efforts of unadvised indignation. Accordingly, wherever he appeared, the insurgents either submitted or retired. The Danes were content to return, without committing any further hostilities, into Denmark. Waltheoff, who long defended York castle, submitted to the victor's clemency, and was taken into favour. Edric, another nobleman, who commanded the Northumbrians, made his submission to the Conqueror, and obtained pardon; while the rest dispersed themselves, and left the Normans undisputed masters of the whole kingdom. Edgar Atheling, who had been drawn among the rest into this insurrection, sought a retreat in Scotland from the pursuit of his enemies. There he continued, till, by proper solicitation, he was again taken into favour by the king. From that time he remained in England in a private station, content with opulence and security; perhaps as happy, though not so splendid, as if he had succeeded in the career of his ambition.

William, being now acknowledged master of a people that more than once showed reluctance to his government, resolved to throw off all appearance of lenity, and to incapacitate them from future insurrections. His first step was, to order the county of Northumberland to be laid waste, the houses to be burnt, the instruments of husbandry to be destroyed, and the inhabitants to seek new habitations. By this order it is said that above one hundred thousand persons perished either by the sword or famine; and the country is supposed, even at this day, to bear the marks of its anci

ent depopulation. He next proceeded to confiscate all the estates of the English gentry, and to grant them liberally to his Norman followers. Thus all the ancient and honourable families were reduced to beggary, and the English found themselves entirely excluded from every road that led either to honour or preferment. They had the cruel mortification to find, that all his power only tended to their depression; and that the scheme of their subjection was attended with every circumstance of insult and indignity.

He was not yet, however, sufficiently arbitrary to change all the laws then in being for those of his own country. He only made several innovations, and ordered the law-pleas in the several courts to be made in the Norman language. Yet with all his endeavours to make the French the popular language, the English still gained ground; and, what deserves remark, it had adopted much more of the French idiom for two or three reigns before, than during the whole line of the Norman kings succeeding.

The feudal law had been before introduced into England by the Saxons; but this monarch reformed it according to the model of that practised in his native dominions. He divided all the lands of England, except the royal demesne, into baronies, and conferred those, upon certain military conditions, on the most considerable of his followers. These had a power of sharing their grants to inferior tenants, who were denominated knights or vassals, and who paid their lord the same duty that he paid the sovereign. To the first class of these baronies the English were not admitted; and the few who were permitted still to retain their landed property, were content to be received in the second. The barons exercised all kinds of jurisdiction within their own manors, and held courts in which they administered justice to their own vassals. This law extended not only to the laity, but also to the bishops and clergy. They had usurped a power, during the Saxon succession, of being governed within themselves; but William restrained them to the exercise of their ecclesiastical power only, and submitted them to a similitude of duties with the rest of their fellow-subjects. This they at first regarded as a grievous imposition; but the king's authority was established by a power that neither the clergy nor the pope could intimidate. But, to keep the clergy as much as possible in his interest, he appointed none but his own countrymen to the most considerable church-dignities, and even displaced Stigand, archbishop of Canterbury, upon some frivolous pretences. His real motive was, that such a dignity was too exalted for a native to possess.

While he was thus employed in humbling the clergy, he was no less solicitous to repress many of those superstitious practices to which they had given countenance. He endeavoured to abolish trials by ordeal and camp-fight. The ordeal trial, which had been originally of pagan institution, and was still held in veneration by the Saxon Christians, was either by fire or water. It was used in criminal cases, where the suspicions were strong, but the proofs not