Northumbrians to espouse his cause. At first his aims seemed to be favoured by fortune; but he was soon after killed in battle, and his death thus freed Edward from a very dangerous competitor. Nevertheless, the death of their leader was not sufficient to intimidate his turbulent adherents. During the whole of this prince's reign, there were few intervals free from the attempts and insurrections of the Northumbrian rebels. Many were the battles he fought, and the victories he won; so that though he might be deemed unequal to his father in the arts of peace, he did not fall short of him in the military virtues. He built several castles, and fortified different cities. He reduced Turketul, a Danish invader, and obliged him to retire with his followers. He subdued the East Angles, and acquired dominion over the Northumbrians themselves. He was assisted in these conquests by his sister Ethelfleda, the widow of Ethelred, earl of Mercia, who, after her husband's death, retained the government of that province. Thus, after Edward had reduced the whole kingdom to his obedience, and begun his endeavours to promote the happiness of his people, he was prevented by death from the completion of his designs.

To him succeeded Athelstan, his natural son, [A. D. 925.] the illegitimacy of his birth not being then deemed a sufficient obstacle to his inheriting the crown. To this prince, as to the former, there was some opposition made in the beginning. Alfred, a nobleman of his kindred, is said to have entered into a conspiracy against him, in favour of the legitimate sons of the deceased king, who were yet too young to be capable of governing themselves. Whatever his attempts might have been, he denied the charge, and offered to clear himself of it by oath before the pope. The proposal was accepted; and it is asserted, that he had scarce sworn himself innocent, when he fell into convulsions, and died three days after. This monarch received also some disturbance from the Northumbrian Danes, whom he compelled to surrender; and resenting the conduct of Constantine, king of Scotland, who had given them assistance, he ravaged that country with impunity, till at length he was appeased by the humble submissions of that monarch. These submissions, however, being extorted, were insincere. Soon after Athelstan had evacuated that kingdom, Constantine entered into a confederacy with a body of Danish pirates, and some Welsh princes who were jealous of Athelstan's growing greatness. A bloody battle was fought at Brunsburg, in Northumberland, in which the English monarch was again victorious. After this success, Athelstan enjoyed his crown in tranquillity; and he is regarded as one of the ablest and most active of the Saxon kings. During his reign the Bible was translated into the Saxon language; and some alliances also were formed by him with the princes of the continent. He died at Gloucester, after a reign of sixteen years; and was succeeded by his brother Edmund. [A.D. 941.] Edmund, like the rest of his predecessors, met with disturbance from the Northumbrians on his accession to the throne; but his activity soon defeated their attempts. The great end, therefore, which he aimed at, during his reign, was to curb the licentiousness of this people, who offered to embrace Christianity as an atonement for their offences. Among other schemes for the benefit of the people, he was the first monarch who, by law, instituted capital punishments in England. Remarking that fines and pecuniary mulcts were too gentle methods of treating robbers, who were, in general, men who had nothing to lose, he enacted, that in gangs of robbers, when taken, the oldest of them should be condemned to the gallows. This was reckoned a very severe law at the time it was enacted; for, among our early ancestors, all the penal laws were mild and merciful. The resentment this monarch bore to men of that desperate way of living, was the cause of his death. His virtues, abilities, wealth, and temperance, promised him a long and happy reign; when, on a certain day, as he was solemnizing a festival in Gloucestershire, he remarked that Leolf, a notorious robber, whom he had sentenced to banishment, had yet the boldness to enter the hall where he was dining, and to sit at the table among the royal attendants. Enraged at this insolence, he commanded him to leave the room; but, on his refusing to obey, the king, whose temper was naturally choleric, flew against him, and caught him by the hair. The ruffian, giving way to rage also on his side, drew a dagger, and lifting up his arm, with a furious blow stabbed the monarch to the heart, who

fell down on the bosom of his murderer. The death of the assassin, who was instantly cut in pieces, was but a small compensation for the loss of a king, loved by his subjects, and deserving their esteem.

The late king's sons were too young to succeed him in the direction of so difficult a government as that of England: his brother Edred was therefore appointed to succeed; and, like his predecessors, this monarch found himself at the head of a rebellious and refractory people. The Northumbrian Danes, as usual, made several attempts to shake off the English yoke; so that the king was at last obliged to place garrisons in their most considerable towns, and to appoint an English governor over them, who might suppress their insurrections on the first appearance. About this time, the monks, from being contented to govern in ecclesiastical matters, began to assume the direction in civil affairs; and, by artfully managing the superstitions and the fears of the people, erected an authority that was not shaken off by several succeeding centuries. Edred had blindly delivered over his conscience to the guidance of Dunstan, abbot of Glastonbury, who was afterwards canonized; and this man, under the appearance of sanctity, concealed the most boundless ambition. The monks had hitherto been a kind of secular priests, who, though they lived in communities, were neither separated from the rest of the world, nor useless to it. They were often married; they were assiduously employed in the education of youth, and subject to the commands of temporal superiors. The celibacy of the clergy, as being a measure that would contribute to their independence, and to the establishment of the papal power in Europe, was warmly recommended by the see of Rome to ecclesiastics in general, but to the monks in particular. An opportunity of carrying this measure in England arose from the superstitious character of Edred, and the furious zeal of Dunstan. Both lent it all the assistance in their power; and the order of Benedictine monks was established under the direction of Dunstan. Edred implicitly submitted to his directions, both in church and state; and the kingdom was in a fair way of being turned into a papal province by this zealous ecclesiastic, when he was checked in the midst of his career by the death of the king, who died of a quinsy, in the tenth year of his reign.

Edwy, his nephew, who ascended the throne, [A. D. 955.] his own sons being yet unfit to govern, was a prince of great personal accomplishments and martial disposition. But he was now come to the government of a kingdom in which he had an enemy to contend with, against whom all military virtues could be of little service. Dunstan, who had governed during the former reign, was resolved to remit nothing of his authority in this; and Edwy, immediately upon his accession, found himself involved in a quarrel with the monks, whose rage neither his accomplishments nor his virtues could mitigate. He seems to have been elected by the secular priests in opposition to the monks; so that their whole body, and Dunstan at their head, pursued him with implacable animosity while living, and even endeavoured to brand his character to posterity.

This Dunstan, who makes a greater figure in these times than even kings themselves, was born of noble parents in the West; but, being defamed as a man of licentious manners in his youth, he betook himself to the austerities of a monastic life, either to atone for his faults, or vindicate his reputation. He secluded himself entirely from the world, in a cell so small, that he could neither stand erect, nor lie along in it. It was in this retreat of constant mortification that his zeal grew furious, and his fancy teemed with visions of the most extravagant nature. His supposed illuminations were frequent; his temptations strong, but he always resisted with bravery. The devil, it was said, one day paid him a visit in the shape of a fine young woman; but Dunstan, knowing the deceit, and provoked at his importunity, seized him by the nose with a pair of red-hot pincers as he put his head into the cell; and he held him there till the malignant spirit made the whole neighbourhood resound with his bellowings. Nothing was too absurd for the monks to propagate in favour of their sect. Crucifixes, altars, and even horses, were heard to harangue in their defence against the secular clergy. Theso 'miracles, backed by their stronger assertions, prevailed with the people.

E

Dunstan was considered as the peculiar favourite of the Almighty, and appeared at court with an authority greater than that of kings; since theirs was conferred by men, but his allowed by Heaven itself. Being possessed of so much power, it may be easily supposed that Edwy could make but a feeble resistance; and that his first fault was likely to be attended with the most dangerous consequences. The monk found or made one on the very day of his coronation. There was a lady of the royal blood, named Elgiva, whose beauty had made a strong impression on this young monarch's heart. He had even ventured to marry her, contrary to the advice of his counsellors, as she was within the degrees of affinity prohibited by the canon law. On the day of his coronation, while his nobility were giving a loose to the more noisy pleasures of wine and festivity in the great hall, Edwy retired to his wife's apartment, where, in company with her mother, he enjoyed the more pleasing satisfaction of her conversation. Dunstan no sooner perceived his absence, than, conjecturing the reason, he rushed fiercely into the apartment, and upbraiding him with all the bitterness of ecclesiastical rancour, dragged him forth in the most outrageous manner. Dunstan, it seems, was not without his enemies; for the king was advised to punish this insult, by ordering him to account for the money with which he had been intrusted during the last reign. This account the haughty monk refused to give in; wherefore he was deprived of all the ecclesiastical and civil emoluments of which he had been in possession, and banished from the kingdom. His exile only served to increase the reputation of his sanctity among the people; and Odo, archbishop of Canterbury, was so far transported with the spirit of the party, that he pronounced a divorce between Edwy and Elgiva. Ecclesiastical censures were then attended with the most formidable effects. The king could no longer resist the indignation of the church, but consented to surrender his beautiful wife to its fury. Accordingly, Odo sent into the palace a party of soldiers, who seized the queer, and, by his orders, branded her on the face with a hot iron. Not contented with this cruel vengeance, they carried her by force into Ireland, and there commanded her to remain in perpetual exile. This injunction, however, was too distressing for that faithful woman to comply with; for, being cured of her wound, and having obliterated the marks which had been made to deface her beauty, she ventured to return to the king, whom she still regarded as her husband. But misfortune still continued to pursue her. She was taken prisoner by a party whom the archbishop had appointed to observe her conduct, and was put to death in the most cruel manner. The sinews of her legs being cut, and her body mangled, she was thus left to expire in dreadful agony. In the mean time, a secret revolt against Edwy became almost general; and, that it might not be doubted at whose instigation this revolt was undertaken, Dunstan returned to England, and put himself at the head of the party. The malcontents at last proceeded to open rebeliion; and having placed Edgar, the king's younger brother, a boy of thirteen years of age, at their head, they soon put him in possession of all the northern parts of the kingdom. Edwy's power, and the number of his adherents, every day declining, he was at last obliged to consent to a partition of the kingdom; but his death, which happened two years after, freed his enemies from all further inquietude, and gave Edgar peaceable possession of the government.

Edgar, being placed on the throne by the influence of the monks, [A. D. 959.] affected to be entirely guided by their directions in all his succeeding transactions. There has ever been some popular cry, some darling prejudice amongst the English; and he who has taken the advantage of it, has always found it of excellent assistance in his government. The sanctity of the monks was the cry at that time; and Edgar, chiming in with the people, at once promoted their happiness and his own glory. Few English monarchs-have reigned with more fortune or more splendour than he. He not only quieted all domestic insurrections, but repressed all foreign invasions; and his power was so well established, and so widely extended, that he is said to have been rowed in his barge by eight tributary kings upon the river Dee. The monks whom he promoted are loud in his praise; yet the example of his continence was in no way corresponding with that chastity and forbearance on which they

chiefly founded their superior pretensions to sanctity. It is, indeed, somewhat extraordinary, that one should have been extolled for his virtues by the monks, whose irregularities were so peculiarly opposite to the tenets they enforced. His first transgression of this kind, was the breaking into a convent, carrying off Editha, a nun, by force, and even committing violence on her person. For this act of sacrilege and barbarity, no other penance was enjoined than that he should abstain from wearing his crown for seven years. As for the lady herself, he was permitted to continue his intercourse with her without scandal. There was another mistress of Edgar's, named Elfleda the Fair, with whom he formed a connexion by a kind of accident; for being at the house of one of his nobles, and fixing his affectons on the nobleman's daughter, he privately requested that the young lady should pass that very night with him. The lady's mother, knowing his power, and the impetuosity of his temper, prevailed upon her daughter seemingly to comply with his request; but, in the mean time, substituted a beautiful domestic in the young lady's place. In the morning, when the king perceived the deceit, instead of being displeased at the stratagem, he expressed pleasure in the adventure; and transferring his love to Elfleda, as the damsel was called, she became his favourite mistress, and maintained an ascendency over him till his marriage with Elfrida. The following story is too remarkable to be passed over in silence.

Edgar had long heard of the beauty of a young lady, whose name was Elfrida, daughter to the carl of Devonshire: but unwilling to credit common fame in this particular, he sent Athelwold, his favourite friend, to see, and inform him if Elfrida was indeed that incomparable woman report had described her. Athelwold, arriving at the earl's castle, had no sooner cast his eyes upon that nobleman's daughter, than he became desperately enamoured of her himself. Such was the violence of his passion, that forgetting his master's intentions, he solicited only his own interests, and demanded for himself the beautiful Elfrida from her father in marriage. The favourite of a king was not likely to find a refusal; the earl gave his consent, and their nuptials were performed in private. Upon his return to court, which was shortly after, he assured the king that her riches alone, and her high quality, had been the causes of her admiration; and he appeared amazed how the world could talk so much, and so unjustly, of her charms. The king was satisfied, and no longer felt any curiosity, while Athelwold secretly triumphed in his address. When he had, by this deceit, weaned the king from his purpose, he took an opportunity, after some time, of turning the conversation on Elfrida, representing, that though the fortune of a daughter of the earl of Devonshire would be a trifle to a king, yet it would be an immense acquisition to a needy subject. He, therefore, humbly entreated permission to pay his addresses to her, as she was the richest heiress in the kingdom. A request so seemingly reasonable was readily complied with: Athelwold returned to his wife, and their nuptials were solemnized in public. His greatest care, however, was employed in keeping her from court; and he took every precaution to prevent her appearing before a king so susceptible of love, whilst he was so capable of inspiring that passion. But it was impossible to keep his treachery long concealed. Favourites are never without private enemies, who watch every opportunity of rising upon their ruin. Edgar was soon informed of the whole transaction; but dissembling his resentment, he took occasion to visit that part of the country where this miracle of beauty was detained, accompanied by Athelwold, who reluctantly attended him thither. Upon coming near the lady's habitation, he told him that he had a curiosity to see his wife, of whom he had formerly heard so much, and desired to be introduced as his acquaintance. Athelwold, thunderstruck at the proposal, did all in his power, but in vain, to dissuade him. All he could obtain, was permission to go before, on pretence of preparing for the king's reception. On his arrival, he fell at his wife's feet, confessing what he had done to be possessed of her charms, and conjuring her to conceal, as much as possible, her beauty from the king, who was but too susceptible of its power. Elfrida, little obliged to him for a passion that had deprived her of a crown, promised compliance; but, prompted either by vanity or revenge, adorned her person

with the most exquisite art, and called up all her beauty on the occasion. The event answered her expectations: the king no sooner saw than he loved her, and instantly resolved to obtain her. The better to effect his intentions, he concealed his passion from the husband, and took leave with a seeming indifference: but his revenge was not the less certain and fatal. Athelwold was some time after sent into Northumberland, upon pretence of urgent affairs, and was found murdered in a wood by the way. Some say he was stabbed by the king's own hand; some, that he only commanded the assassination: however this be, Elfrida was invited soon after to court, by the king's own order, and their nuptials were performed with the usual solemnity.

Such was the criminal passion of a monarch whom the monks have thought proper to represent as the most perfect of mankind. His reign was successful, because it was founded upon a compliance with the prejudices of the people; but it produced very sensible evils, and these fell upon his successor. He died after a reign of sixteen years, in the thirty-second year of his age, being succeeded by his son Edward, whom he had by his first marriage with the daughter of earl Ordmer.

Edward, surnamed the Martyr, was made king by the interest of the monks, [A. D. 975.] and lived but four years after his accession. In his reign there is nothing remarkable, if we except his tragical and memorable end. Though this young monarch had been from the beginning opposed by Elfrida, his step-mother, who seems to have united the greatest deformity of mind with the highest graces of person, yet he ever shewed her marks of the strongest regard, and even expressed, on all occasions, the most tender affection for her son, his brother. Hunting one day near Corfe-castle, were Elfrida resided, he thought it his duty to pay her a visit, although he was not attended by any of his retinue. There desiring some liquor to be brought him, as he was thirsty, while he was yet holding the cup to his head, one of Elfrida's domestics, instructed for that purpose, stabbed him in the back. The king, finding himself wounded, put spurs to his horse; but fainting with the loss of blood, he fell from the saddle, and his foot sticking in the stirrup, he was dragged along by his horse till he was killed. Being tracked by the blood, his body was found, and privately interred at Wareham by his servants.

Ethelred the Second, the son of Edgar and Elfrida, succeeded; [A. D. 979.] a weak and irresolute monarch, incapable of governing the kingdom, or providing for its safety. After a train of dissensions, follies, and vices, which seem to have marked some of the former reigns, it is not surprising that the country was weakened, or that the people, taught to rely entirely on preternatural assistance, were rendered incapable of defending themselves. During this period, therefore, their old and terrible enemies, the Danes, who seem not to have been loaded with the same accumulation of vice and folly, were daily gaining ground. The weakness and the inexperience of Ethelred appeared to give a favourable opportunity for renewing their depredations; and accordingly they landed on several parts of the coasts, spreading their usual terror and devastation. The English, ill-provided to oppose such an enemy, made but a feeble resistance; endeavouring, by treachery and submission, to avert the storm they had not spirit to oppose.

The northern invaders, now well acquainted with the defenceless condition of England, made a powerful descent, under the command of Sweyn king of Denmark, and Olave king of Norway, who, sailing up the Humber, committed on all sides their destructive ravages. The English opposed them with a formidable army, but were repulsed with great slaughter. The Danes, encouraged by this success, marched boldly into the heart of the kingdom, filling all places with the marks of horrid cruelty. Ethelred had, upon a former invasion of these pirates, bought them off with money: and he now resolved to put the same expedient in practice once more. He sent ambassadors, therefore, to the two kings, and offered them subsistence and tribute, provided they would restrain their ravages, and depart the kingdom. It has often been remarked, that buying off an invasion only serves to strengthen the enemy, and to invite a repetition of hostilities. Such it happened upon this occasion: [A. D. 994.] Sweyn and Olave agreed to the terms, and peaceably took up their quarters at Southampton, where the sum of sixteen thousand