 CHAPTER V. THE MARRIAGE One of the most important points which an hereditary potentate has to attend to in completing his political arrangements is the question of his marriage. Until he has a family and an heir, men's minds are unsettled in respect to the succession, and the various rival candidates and claimants to the throne are perpetually plotting and intriguing to put themselves into a position to spring at once into his place if sickness or a battle or any sudden accident should take him away. This evil was more formidable than usual in the case of William, for the men who were prepared to claim his place when he was dead were all secretly or openly maintaining that their right to it was superior to his while he was living. This gave a double intensity to the excitement with which the public was perpetually agitated in respect to the crown and kept the minds of the ambitious and the aspiring throughout William's dominions in a continual fever. It was obvious that a great part of the cause of this restless looking for change and consequent planning to promote it would be removed if William had a son. It became therefore an important matter of state policy that the Duke should be married. In fact, the barons and military chieftains who were friendly to him urged this measure upon him on account of the great effect which they perceived it would have in settling the minds of the people of the country and consolidating his power. William accordingly began to look around for a wife. It appeared, however, in the end that though policy was the main consideration which first led him to contemplate marriage, love very probably exercised an important influence in determining his choice of the lady. At all events the object of his choice was an object worthy of love. She was one of the most beautiful and accomplished princesses in Europe. She was the daughter of a great potentate who ruled over the country of Flanders. Flanders lies upon the coast east of Normandy, beyond the frontiers of France, and on the southern shore of the German Ocean. Her father's title was the Earl of Flanders. He governed his dominions, however, like a sovereign, and was at the head of a very effective military power. His family too occupied a very high rank and enjoyed great consideration among the other princes and potentates of Europe. It had intermarried with the royal family of England so that Matilda, the daughter of the Earl, whom William was disposed to make his bride, was found by the genealogists who took great interest in those days in tracing such connections to have descended in a direct line from the great English king, Alfred himself. This relationship, by making Matilda's birth the more illustrious, operated strongly in favor of the match, as a great part of the motive which William had in view, in his intended marriage, was to aggrandize and strengthen his own position by the connection which he was about to form. There was, however, another consanguinity in the case which had a contrary tendency. Matilda's father had been connected with the Norman as well as with the English line, and Matilda and William were in some remote sense cousins. This circumstance led, in the sequel, as will presently be seen, to serious difficulty and trouble. Matilda was seven years younger than William. She was brought up in her father's court and famed far and wide for her beauty and accomplishments. The accomplishments in which ladies of high rank sought to distinguish themselves in those days were to music and embroidery. The embroidery of tapestry was the great attainment, and in this art the young Matilda acquired great skill. The tapestry which was made in the Middle Ages was used to hang against the walls of some of the more ornamented rooms in royal palaces and castles, to hide the naked surface of the stones of which the building was constructed. The cloths thus suspended were at first plain. Afterward they began to be ornamented with embroidered borders or other decorations, and at length ladies learned to employ their own leisure hours and beguiled the tedium of the long confinement which many of them had to endure within their castles in embroidering various devices and designs on the hangings intended for their own chambers, or to execute such works as presents for their friends. Matilda's industry and skill in this kind of work were celebrated far and wide. The accomplishments which ladies take great pains to acquire in their early years are sometimes, it is said, laid almost entirely aside after their marriage. Not necessarily because they are less than desirous to please, but sometimes from the abundance of domestic duty which allows them little time, and sometimes from the pressure of their burdens of care or sorrow which leave them no heart for the occupations of amusement or gaiety. It seems not to have been so in Matilda's case, however. She resumed her needle often during the years of her wedded life, and after William had accomplished his conquest of England, she worked upon a long linen web with immense labour, a series of designs illustrating the various events and incidents of his campaign, and the work has been preserved to the present day. At least there is such a web now existing in the ancient town of Bayou in Normandy, which has been there from a period beyond the memory of men, and which traditions says was worked by Matilda. It would seem, however, that if she did it at all, she must have done it as Solomon built the temple, with a great deal of help. For this famous piece of embroidery, which has been celebrated among all the historians and scholars of the world for several hundred years by the name of the Bayou tapestry, is over four hundred feet long and nearly two feet wide. The web is of linen, while the embroidery is of woollen. It was all obviously executed with the needle, and was worked with infinite labour and care. The woollen thread which was used was of various colours, suited to represent the different objects in the design. Both these colours are, of course, now much tarnished and faded. The designs themselves are very simple and even rude, evincing very little knowledge of the principles of modern art. The specimens on the following page of engravings made from them will give some idea of the childish style of delineation which characterizes all Matilda's designs. Much, however, as such a style of drawing would be considered now, it seems to have been in Matilda's days very much praised and admired. We often have occasion to observe in watching the course of human affairs, the frailty and transitoriness of things apparently most durable and strong. In the case of this embroidery, on the contrary, we are struck with the durability and permanence of what would seem to be most frail and fleeting. William's conquest of England took place in 1066. This piece of tapestry, therefore, if Matilda really worked it, is about 800 years old. And when we consider how delicate, slender and frail is the fibre of a linen thread, and that the various elements of decay always busy in the work of corrupting and destroying the works of man, have proved themselves powerful enough to waste away and crumble into ruin the proudest structures which he has ever attempted to rear. We are amazed that these slender filaments have been able to resist their actions so long. The bayou tapestry has lasted nearly a thousand years. It will probably last for a thousand years to come. So that the vast and resistless power which destroyed Babylon and Troy, and is making visible progress in the work of destroying the pyramids, is foiled by the durability of a piece of needlework executed by the frail and delicate fingers of a woman. We may have occasion to advert to the bayou tapestry again when we come to narrate the exploits which it was the particular object of this historical embroidery to illustrate and adorn. In the meantime, we return to our story. The matrimonial negotiations of princes and princesses are always conducted in a formal and ceremonious manner, and through the intervention of legates, ambassadors and commissioners without number, who are, of course, interested in protracting the proceedings, so as to prolong as much as possible their own diplomatic importance and power. Besides these accidental and temporary difficulties, it soon appeared that there were, in this case, some real and very formidable obstacles which threatened for a time entirely to frustrate the scheme. Among these difficulties there was one which was not usually in such cases considered of much importance, but which in this instance seemed for a long time to put an effectual bar to William's wishes, and that was the aversion which the young princess herself felt for the match. She could have, one would suppose, no personal feeling of repugnance against William, for he was a tall and handsome cavalier, highly graceful and accomplished, and renowned for his bravery and success in war. He was in every respect such a personage as would be most likely to captivate the imagination of a maiden princess in those warlike times. Matilda, however, made objections to his birth. She could not consider him as the legitimate descendant and heir of the dukes of Normandy. It is true he was then in possession of the throne, but he was regarded by a large portion of the most powerful chieftains in his realm as a usurper. He was liable at any time on some sudden change of fortune to be expelled from his dominions. His position in a word, though for the time being very exalted, was too precarious and unstable, and his personal claims to high social rank were too equivocal to justify her trusting her destiny in his hands. In a word Matilda's answer to William's proposal was an absolute refusal to become his wife. These ostensible grounds, however, on which Matilda based her refusal, plausible as they were, were not the real and true ones. The secret motive was another attachment which she had formed. Matilda had been sent to her father's court in Flanders, from the English king, a young Saxon ambassador, whose name was Britric. Britric remained some little time at the court in Flanders, and Matilda, who saw him often at the various entertainments, celebrations, and parties of pleasure which were arranged for his amusement, conceived a strong attachment to him. He was of a very fair complexion, and his features were expressive and beautiful. He was a noble of high position in England, though of course his rank was inferior to that of Matilda, as it would have been deemed hardly proper for him under the circumstances of the case to have aspired to the princess's hand, on account of the superiority of her social position, Matilda felt that it was her duty to make known her sentiments to him, and thus to open the way. She did so, but she found, unhappy maiden, that Britric did not feel himself the love which he had inspired in her, and all the efforts and arts to which she was impelled by the instinct of affection proved wholly on a valing to call it forth. Britric, after fulfilling the object of his mission, took leave of Matilda coldly, while her heart was almost breaking, and went away. As the sweetest wine transforms itself into the sharpest vinegar, so the warmest and most ardent love turns, when it turns at all, to the most bitter and inventum'd hate. Matilda gave place soon in Matilda's heart to indignation and indignation to a burning thirst for revenge. The intensity of the first excitement subsided, but Matilda never forgot and never forgave the disappointment and the indignity which she had endured. She had an opportunity long afterward to take terrible revenge on Britric in England by subjecting him to cruelties and hardships there which brought him to his grave. In the meantime, while her thoughts were so occupied with this attachment, she had, of course, no heart to listen favorably to William's proposals. Her friends would have attached no importance to the real cause of her aversion to the match, but they felt the force of the objections which could justly be advanced against William's rank and his real right to his throne. Then the consanguinity of the parties was a great source of embarrassment and trouble. Persons as nearly related to each other as they were were forbidden by the Roman Catholic rules to marry. There was such a thing as getting a dispensation from the Pope by which the marriage would be authorized. William accordingly sent ambassadors to Rome to negotiate this business. This of course opened a new field of difficulties and delays. The papal authorities were accustomed in such cases to exact as the price or rather as the condition of their dispensation some grant or beneficial conveyance from the parties interested to the church such as the foundation of an abbey or a monastery. The building of a chapel or the endowment of a charity by way as it were of making amends to the church by the benefit thus received for whatever injury the cause of religion and morality might sustain by the relaxation of a divine law. Of course this being the end in view, the tendency on the part of the authorities at Rome would be to protract the negotiations so as to obtain from the suitors and patients better terms in the end. The ambassadors and commissioners too on William's part would have no strong motive for hastening the proceedings. Rome was an agreeable place of residence and to live there as the ambassador of a royal duke of Normandy was to enjoy a high degree of consideration and to be surrounded continually by scenes of magnificence and splendor. Then again William himself was not always at leisure to urge the business forward by giving it his own close attention. For during the period while these negotiations were pending he was occupied from time to time with foreign wars or in the suppression of rebellions among his barons thus from one cause and another it seemed as if the business would never come to an end. In fact a less resolute and determined man than William would have given up in despair for it was seven years it is said before the affair was brought to a conclusion. One story is told of the impetuous energy which William manifested in this suit which seemed almost incredible. It was after the negotiations had been protracted for several years and at a time when the difficulties were principally those arising from Matilda's opposition that the occurrence took place. It was at an interview which William had with Matilda in the streets of Bruges, one of her father's cities. All that took place at the interview is not known but in the end of it William's resentment at Matilda's treatment of him lost all bounds. He struck her or pushed her so violently as to throw her down upon the ground it is said that he struck her repeatedly and then leaving her with her clothes all soiled and disheveled rode off in a rage. Love quarrels are often the means of bringing the contending parties nearer together than they were before but such a terrible love quarrel as this we hope is very rare. And as it was however it was followed by a perfect reconciliation and in the end all obstacles were removed and William and Matilda were married. The event took place in 1052. The marriage ceremony was performed at one of William's castles on the frontiers of Normandy as it is customary for princes and kings to be married always in their own dominions. Matilda was conducted there with great pomp and parade by her parents and was accompanied by a large train of attendants and friends. This company, mounted, both knights and ladies, on horses beautifully comparisoned, moved across the country like a little army on a march or rather like a triumphal procession escorting a queen. Matilda was received at the castle with distinguished honor and the marriage celebrations and the entertainments accompanying it were continued for several days. It was a scene of unusual festivity and rejoicing. The dress of both William and Matilda on this occasion was very specially splendid. She wore a mantle studded with the most costly jewels and in addition to the other splendors of his dress William too wore a mantle and a helmet both of which were richly adorned with the same costly decorations. So much importance was attached in those days to this outward show and so great was the public interest taken in it that these dresses of William and Matilda with all the jewelry that adorned them were deposited afterwards in the great church at Bayou where they remained a sort of public spectacle the property of the church for nearly five hundred years. From the castle of Augie where the marriage ceremonies were performed William proceeded after these first festivities and rejoicings were over to the great city of Rouen conducting his bride thither with great pomp and parade. Here the young couple established themselves living in the enjoyment of every species of luxury and splendor which were attainable in those days. As has already been said the interiors even of royal castles and palaces presented but few of the comforts and conveniences deemed essential to the happiness of a home in modern times. The European ladies of the present day delight in their suites of retired and well furnished apartments adorned with velvet carpets and silken curtains and luxuriant beds of down with sofas and couches adapted to every fancy which the caprice of fatigue or restlessness may assume and cabinets stored with treasures and libraries of embellished books. The whole scene illuminated by the splendor of gas lights whose brilliancy is reflected by mirrors and candelabras sparkling with a thousand hues. Matilda's feudal palace presented no such scenes as these. The cold stone floors were covered with mats of rushes. The walls, if the naked masonry was hidden at all, were screened by hangings of coarse tapestry ornamented with uncouth and hideous figures. The beds were miserable pallets, the windows were loopholes, and the castle itself had all the architectural characteristics of a prison. Still there was a species of luxury and splendor even then. Matilda had splendid horses to ride all magnificently comparison'd. She had dresses adorned most lavishly with gold and jewels. There were troops of valiant knights all glittering in armour of steel to escort her on her journeys and to accompany and wait upon her on her excursions of pleasure. And there were grand banquets and carousels from time to time in the long castle hall with tournaments and races and games and other military shows conducted with great parade and pageantry. Matilda thus commenced her married life in luxury and splendor. In luxury and splendor, but not in peace. William had an uncle whose name was Morgur. He was the Archbishop of Ruan and was a dignitary of great influence and power. Now it was, of course, the interest of William's relatives that he should not be married as every increase of probability that his crown would descend to direct heirs diminished their future chances of the succession and, of course, undermine their present importance. Morgur had been very much opposed to this match and had exerted himself in every way while the negotiations were pending to impede and delay them. The point which he most strenuously urged was the consanguinity of the parties, a point to which it was incumbent on him as he maintained, being the head of the church in Normandy, particularly to attend. It seemed that notwithstanding William's negotiations with the Pope to obtain a dispensation, the affair was not fully settled at Rome before the marriage, and very soon after the celebration of the nuptials, Morgur fulminated an edict of excommunication against both William and Matilda for intermarrying within the degrees of relationship which the cannons of the church prescribed. An excommunication in the Middle Ages was a terrible calamity. The person thus condemned was made so far as such a sentence could affect it an outcast from man and a wretch accursed of heaven. The most terrible denunciations were uttered against him, and in the case of a prince like that of William, his subjects were all absolved from their allegiance and forbidden to sucker or defend him. A powerful potentate like William could maintain himself for a time against the influence and effects of such a course, but it was pretty sure to work more and more strongly against him through the superstitions of the people, and to wear him out in the end. William resolved to appeal at once to the Pope, and to effect, by some means or other, the object of securing his dispensation. There was a certain monk, then obscure and unknown, but who afterwards became a very celebrated public character, named Lan Frank, whom, for some reason or other, William supposed to possess the necessary qualifications for this mission. He accordingly gave him his instructions and sent him away. Lan Frank proceeded to Rome, and there he managed the negotiations with the Pope so dexterously, as soon to bring it to a conclusion. The arrangement which he made was this. The Pope was to grant the dispensation and confirm the marriage, thus removing the sentence of excommunication which the Archbishop Morgan had pronounced, on condition that William should build and endow a hospital for a hundred poor persons, and also erect two abbeys, one to be built by himself, for monks, and one by Matilda, for nuns. Lan Frank agreed to these conditions on the part of William and Matilda, and they, when they came to be informed of them, accepted and confirmed them with great joy. The ban of excommunication was removed, all Normandy acquiesced in the marriage, and William and Matilda proceeded to form the plans and to superintend the construction of the abbeys. They selected the city of Kahn for the site. The place of this city will be seen marked upon the map near the northern coast of Normandy. It was situated in a broad and pleasant valley, at the confluence of two rivers, and was surrounded by beautiful and fertile meadows. It was strongly fortified, being surrounded by walls and towers, which William's ancestors, the dukes of Normandy, had built. William and Matilda took a strong interest in the plans and constructions connected with the building of the abbeys. Williams was a very extensive edifice, and contained within its enclosures a royal palace for himself, where in subsequent years himself and Matilda often resided. The principal buildings of these abbeys still stand, though the walls and fortifications of Kahn are gone. The buildings are used now for other purposes than those for which they were erected, but they retain the names originally given them, and are visited by great numbers of tourists being regarded with great interest as singular memorials of the past, twin monuments commemorating an ancient marriage. The marriage being thus finally confirmed and acquiesced in, William and Matilda enjoyed a long period of domestic peace. The oldest child was a son. He was born within a year of the marriage, and William named him Robert, that, as the reader will recollect, having been the name of William's father. There was in process of time a large family of children. Their names were Robert, William Rufus, Henry, Cecilia, Agatha, Constance, Adela, Adelaide, and Gundred. Matilda devoted herself with great maternal fidelity to the care and education of these children, and many of them became subsequently historical personages of the highest distinction. The object which it will be recollected was one of William's main inducements for contracting this alliance, namely, the strengthening of his power by thus connecting himself with the reigning family of Flanders, was in great measure accomplished. The two governments, leading together by this natural tie, strengthened each other's power, and often rendered each other essential assistance, though there was one occasion, subsequently, when William's reliance on this aid was disappointed. It was as follows. When he was planning his invasion of England, he sent to Matilda's brother Baldwin, who was then Count of Flanders, inviting him to raise a force and join him. Baldwin, who considered the enterprise as dangerous and quixotic, sent back word to inquire what share of the English territory William would give him if he would go and help him conquer it. William thought that this attempt to make a bargain beforehand for a division of spoil evinced a very mercenary and distrustful spirit on the part of his brother-in-law, a spirit which he was not at all disposed to encourage. He accordingly took a sheet of parchment and writing nothing within. He folded it in the form of a letter and wrote upon the outside the following rhyme. Which royal dystic might be translated thus? Your share, good brother, of the land we win, you'll find entitled and described within. William forwarded the empty missive by the hand of a messenger, who delivered it to Baldwin as if it were a dispatch of great consequence. Baldwin received it eagerly and opened it at once. He was surprised at finding nothing within, and after turning the parchment every way in vain search after the description of his share, he asked the messenger what it meant. It means, said he, that there is nothing writ within, so nothing you shall have. Notwithstanding this witticism, however, some arrangement seems afterward to have been made between the parties, for Flanders did in fact contribute an important share towards the force which William raised when preparing for the invasion. CHAPTER VI THE LADY EMMA It is not to be supposed that, even in the warlike times of which we are writing, such a potentate as a duke of Normandy would invade a country like England, so large and powerful in comparison to his own, without some pretext. William's pretext was that he himself was the legitimate successor to the English crown, and that the English king who possessed it at the time of his invasion was a usurper. In order that the reader may understand the nature and origin of this, his claim, it is necessary to relate somewhat in full the story of the lady Emma. By referring to the genealogy of the Norman line of dukes contained in the second chapter of this volume, it will be seen that Emma was the daughter of the first Richard. She was celebrated in her early years for her great personal beauty. They called her the Pearl of Normandy. She married at length one of the kings of England whose name was Ethelred. England was at that time distracted by civil wars, waged between the two antagonist races of Saxons and Danes. There were in fact two separate dynasties, or lines of kings, who were contending all the time for the mastery. In these contests sometimes the Danes would triumph for a time, and sometimes the Saxons, and sometimes both races would have a royal representative in the field, each claiming the throne, and reigning over separate portions of the island. Thus there were at certain periods two kingdoms in England, both covering the same territory and claiming the government of the same population, with two kings, two capitals, two administrations. While the wretched inhabitants were distracted and ruined by the terrible conflicts to which these hostile pretensions gave rise. Ethelred was of the Saxon line. He was a widower at the time of his marriage to Emma, nearly forty years old, and he had, among other children by his former wife, a son named Edmund, an active, energetic young man, who afterward became king. One mode of which he had in view in marrying Emma was to strengthen his position by securing the alliance of the Normans of Normandy. The Danes, his English enemies, were Normans. The government of Normandy would therefore be naturally inclined to take part with them. By this marriage, however, Ethelred hoped to detach the Normans of France from the cause of his enemies, and to unite them to his own. He would thus gain a double advantage, strengthening himself by an accession which weakened his foes. His plan succeeded so far as inducing Richard himself, the Duke of Normandy, to espouse his cause, but it did not enable Ethelred to triumph over his enemies. They on the contrary conquered him, and in the end drove him from the country altogether. He fled to Normandy for refuge with Emma his wife and his two young sons. Their names were Edward and Alfred. Edward II, Emma's brother, who was then the Duke of Normandy, received the unhappy fugitives with great kindness, although he at least, scarcely deserved it. It was not surprising that he was driven from his native realm, for he possessed none of those high qualities of mind which fit men to conquer or to govern. Like all other weak-minded tyrants, he substituted cruelty for wisdom and energy in his attempts to subjugate his foes. As soon as he was married to Emma, for instance, feeling elated and strong at the greatest session of power which he imagined he had obtained by this alliance, he planned a general massacre of the Danes, and executed it on a given day by means of private orders sent secretly throughout the kingdom. Vast numbers of the Danes were destroyed, and so great was the hatred of the two races for each other, that they who had these bloody orders to obey executed them with a savage cruelty that was absolutely horrible. In one instance they buried women to the waist, and then set dogs upon them to tear their naked flesh until they died in agony. It would be best in narrating history to suppress such horror details as these. Were it not that in a land like this, where so much depends upon the influence of every individual in determining whether the questions and discussions which are from time to time arising, and are hereafter to arise, shall be settled peacefully, or by a resort to violence and civil war, it is very important that we should all know what civil war is and to what horrible atrocities it inevitably leads. Alfred the Great, when he was contending with the Danes in England a century before this time, treated them so far as he gained advantage over them with generosity and kindness, and this policy wholly conquered them in the end. Ethelred, on the other hand, tried the effect of the most tyrannical cruelty, and the effect was only to arouse his enemies to a more determined and desperate resistance. It was the frenzy of vengeance and hate that these atrocities awakened, everywhere among the Danes, which nerve them with so much vigor and strength that they finally expelled him from the island. So that when he arrived in Normandy, a fugitive and an exile, he came in the character of a dethroned tyrant, execrated for his senseless and atrocious cruelties, and not in that of an unhappy prince driven from his home by the pressure of an unavoidable calamity. Nevertheless, Richard, the Duke of Normandy, received him, as we have already said, with kindness. He felt the obligation of receiving the exiled monarch in a hospitable manner if not on his own account, at least for the sake of Emma and the children. The origin and end of Emma's interest in Ethelred seems to have been merely ambition. The pearl of Normandy had given herself to this monster for the sake, apparently, of the glory of being the English Queen. Her subsequent conduct compels the readers of history to make this supposition, which otherwise would be uncharitable. She now mourned her disappointment in finding that, instead of being sustained by her husband in the lofty position to which she aspired, she was obliged to come back to her former home again, to be once more dependent and with the additional burden of her husband himself and her children upon her father's family. Her situation was rendered even still more humiliating in some degree by the circumstances that her father was no longer alive and that it was to her brother on whom her natural claim was far less strong that she had now to look for shelter and protection. Richard, however, received them all in a kind and generous manner. In the meantime the wars and commotions which had driven Ethelred away continued to rage in England, the Saxons gradually gaining ground against the Danes. At length the king of the Danes, who had seized the government when Ethelred was expelled, died. The Saxons then regained their former power and they sent commissioners to Ethelred to propose his return to England. At the same time they expressed their unwillingness to receive him unless they could bind him by a solemn treaty to take a very different course of conduct in the future management of his government from that which he had pursued before. Ethelred and Emma were eager to regain on any terms their loss thrown. They sent over ambassadors empowered to make, in Ethelred's name, any promises which the English nobles might demand. And shortly afterward the royal pair crossed the Channel and went to London. And Ethelred was acknowledged there by the Saxon portion of the population of the island, once more as king. The Danes, however, though weakened, were not yet disposed to submit. They declared their allegiance to Canute, who was the successor in the Danish line. Then followed a long war between Canute and Ethelred. Canute was a man of extraordinary sagacity and intelligence and also of great courage and energy. Ethelred, on the other hand, proved himself notwithstanding all his promises, incurably inefficient, cowardly and cruel. In fact, his son Prince Edmund, the son of his first wife, was far more efficient than his father in resisting Canute and the Danes. Edmund was active and fearless, and he soon acquired very extensive power. In fact, he seems to have held the authority of his father in very little respect. One striking instance of this insubordination occurred. Ethelred had taken offence, for some reason or other, at one of the nobles in his realm, and had put him to death and confiscated his estates. And in addition to this, with a cruelty characteristic of him, he shut off the unhappy widow of his victim, a young and beautiful woman, in a gloomy convent, as a prisoner. Edmund, his son, went to the convent, liberated the prisoner, and made her his own wife. With such unfriendly relations between the king and his son, who seems to have been the ableist general in his father's army, there could be little hope of making head against such an enemy as Canute the Dane. In fact, the course of public affairs went from bad to worse, Emma leading all the time a life of unceasing anxiety and alarm. At length, in ten sixteen, Ethelred died, and Emma's cup of disappointment and humiliation was now full. Her own sons, Edward and Alfred, had no claim to the crown, for Edmund, being the son by a former marriage, was older than they. They were too young to take personally an active part in the fierce contests of the day, and thus fight their way to importance and power. And then Edmund, who was now to become king, would of course feel no interest in advancing them or doing honor to her. A son who would thwart and counteract the plans and measures of a father, as Edmund had done, would be little likely to evince much deference or regard for a mother-in-law or for half-brothers, whom he would naturally consider as his rivals. In a word, Emma had reason to be alarmed at the situation of insignificance and danger in which she found herself suddenly placed. She fled a second time, in destitution and distress, to her brothers in Normandy. She was now, however, a widow, and her children were fatherless. It is difficult to decide whether to consider her situation as better or worse on this account than it was at her former exile. Her sons were lads, but little advanced beyond the period of childhood. And Edward, the eldest, on whom the duty of making exertions to advance the family interests would first evolve, was of a quiet and gentle spirit, giving little promise that he would soon be disposed to enter vigorously upon military campaigns. Edmund, on the other hand, who was now king, was in the prime of life and was a man of great spirit and energy. There was a reasonable prospect that he would live many years, and even if he were to be suddenly cut off, there seemed to be no hope of the restoration of Emma to importance or power. For Edmund was married and had two sons, one of whom would be entitled to succeed him in case of his decease. It seemed therefore to be Emma's destiny now to spend the remainder of her days with her children in neglect and obscurity. The case resulted differently, however, as we shall see in the end. Edmund, not withstanding his prospect of a long and prosperous career, was cut off suddenly after a stormy reign of one year. During his reign, Canute the Dane had been fast gaining ground in England, not withstanding the vigor and energy with which Edmund had opposed him. Finally the two monarchs assembled their armies and were about to fight a great final battle. Edmund sent a flag of truce to Canute's camp, proposing that, to save the effusion of blood, they should agree to decide the ease by single combat, and that he and Canute should be the champions and fight in presence of the armies. Canute declined this proposal. He was himself small and slender in form, while Edmund was distinguished for his personal development and muscular strength. Canute therefore declined the personal contest, but offered to leave the question to the decision of a council chosen from among the leading nobles on either side. This plan was finally adopted. The council convened, and after long deliberations, they framed a treaty by which the country was divided between the two potentates, and a sort of peace was restored. A very short period after this treaty was settled, Edmund was murdered. Canute immediately laid claim to the whole realm. He maintained that it was part of the treaty that the partition of the kingdom was to continue only during their joint lives, and that, on the death of either, the whole was to pass to the survivor of them. The Saxon leaders did not admit this, but they were in no condition very strenuously to oppose it. Ethelred's sons by Emma were too young to come forward as leaders yet, and as to Edmund's, they were mere children. There was therefore no one whom they could produce as an efficient representative of the Saxon line, and thus the Saxons were compelled to submit to Canute's pretensions, at least for a time. They would not wholly give up the claims of Edmund's children, but they consented to wave them for a season. They gave Canute the guardianship of the boys until they should become of age, and allowed him, in the meantime, to reign himself over the whole land. Canute exercised his power in a very discreet and judicious manner, seeming intent, in all his arrangements, to protect the rights and interests of the Saxons as well as of the Danes. It might be supposed that the lives of the young Saxon princes, Edmund's sons, would not have been safe in his hands, but the policy which he immediately resolved to pursue was to conciliate the Saxons, and not to intimidate and coerce them. He therefore did the young children no harm, but sent them away out of the country to Denmark, that they might, if possible, be gradually forgotten. Perhaps he thought that if the necessity should arise for it, they might there at any time be put secretly to death. There was another reason still to prevent Canute's destroying these children, which was that if they were removed, the claims of the Saxon line would not thereby be extinguished, but would only be transferred to Emma's children in Normandy, who being older were likely the sooner to be in a condition to give him trouble as rivals. It was therefore a very wise and sagacious policy which prompted him to keep the young children of Edmund alive, but to remove them to a safe distance out of the way. In respect to Emma's children, Canute conceived a different plan for guarding against any danger which came from their claims, and that was to propose to take their mother for his wife. By this plan her family would come into his power, and then her own influence and that of her Norman friends would be forever prevented from taking sides against him. He, accordingly, made the proposal. Emma was ambitious enough of again returning to her former position of greatness as English Queen to accept it eagerly. The world condemned her for being so ready to marry, for her second husband, the deadly enemy and rival of the first. But it was all one to her whether her husband was Saxon or Dane, provided that she could be Queen. The boys, or rather the young men, for they were now advancing to maturity, were very strongly opposed to this connection. They did all in their power to prevent its consummation, and they never forgave their mother for thus basely betraying their interests. They were the more incensed at this transaction because it was stipulated in the marriage articles between Canute and Emma that their future children, the offspring of the marriage then contracted, should succeed to the throne of England, to the exclusion of all previously born on either side. Thus Canute fancied that he had secured his title and that of his descendants to the crown forever, and Emma prepared to return to England as once more its Queen. The marriage was celebrated with great pomp and splendor, and Emma, bidding Normandy and her now-alienated children farewell, was conducted in state to the Royal Palace in London. We must now pass over, with a very few words, a long interval of twenty years. It was the period of Canute's reign which was prosperous and peaceful. During this period Emma's Norman sons continued in Normandy. She had another son in England a few years after her marriage who was named Canute after his father, but he is generally known in history by the name of Hardy Canute, the prefix being a Saxon word denoting energetic or strong. Canute had also a very celebrated minister in his government named Godwin. Godwin was a Saxon of a very humble origin, and the history of his life constitutes quite a romantic tale. He was a man of extraordinary talents and character, and at the time of Canute's death he was altogether the most powerful subject in the realm. When Canute found that he was about to die and began to consider what arrangements he should make for the succession, he concluded that it would not be safe for him to fulfill the agreement made in his marriage contract with Emma, that the children of that marriage should inherit the kingdom. For Hardy Canute, who was entitled to succeed under that covenant, was only about sixteen or seventeen years old and consequently too young to attempt to govern. He therefore made a will in which he left the kingdom to an older son named Harold, a son whom he had had before his marriage with Emma. This was the signal for a new struggle. The influence of the Saxons and of Emma's friends was of course in favor of Hardy Canute, while the Danes espoused the cause of Harold. Godwin at length taking sides with this last name party, Harold was established on the throne, and Emma and all her children, whether descended from Ethelred or Canute, were set aside and forgotten. Emma was not at all disposed to acquiesce in this change of fortune. She remained in England, but was secretly incensed at her second husband's breach of faith towards her. And as he had abandoned the child of his marriage with her for his former children, she now determined to abandon him for hers. She gave up Hardy Canute's cause, therefore, and began secretly to plot among the Saxon population for bringing forward her son Edward to the throne. When she thought that things were ripe for the execution of the plot, she wrote a letter to her children in Normandy, saying to them that the Saxon population were weary of the Danish line, and were ready, she believed, to rise in behalf of the ancient Saxon line, if the true representative of it would appear to lead them. She therefore invited them to come to London and consult with her on the subject. She directed them, however, to come, if they came at all, in a quiet and peaceful manner, and without any appearance of hostile intent, in as much as any thing which might seem like a foreign invasion would awaken universal jealousy and alarm. When this letter was received by the brothers in Normandy, the eldest, Edward, declined to go, but gave his consent that Alfred should undertake the expedition if he were disposed. Alfred accepted the proposal. In fact, the temperament and character of the two brothers were very different. Edward was sedate, serious, and timid. Alfred was ardent and aspiring. The younger therefore decided to take the risk of crossing the channel, while the elder preferred to remain at home. The result was very disastrous. Contrary to his mother's instructions, Alfred took with him quite a troop of Norman soldiers. He crossed the channel in safety and advanced across the country some distance toward London. Harold sent out a force to intercept him. He was surrounded, and he himself and all his followers were taken prisoners. He was sentenced to lose his eyes, and he died in a few days after the execution of this terrible sentence, from the mingled effects of fever and of mental anguish and despair. Emma fled to Flanders. Finally, Harold died, and Hardy Knute succeeded him. In a short time, Hardy Knute died, leaving no heirs, and now, of course, there was no one left to compete with Emma's oldest son, Edward, who had remained all the time quietly in Normandy. He was, accordingly, proclaimed king. This was in 1041. He reigned for twenty years, having commenced his reign about the time that William the Conqueror was established in the possession of his dominions as Duke of Normandy. Edward had known William intimately during his long residence in Normandy, and William came to visit him in England in the course of his reign. William, in fact, considered himself as Edward's heir, for as Edward, though married, had no children, the dukes of the Norman line were his nearest relatives. He obtained, he said, a promise from Edward that Edward would sanction and confirm his claim to the English crown in the event of his decease by bequeathing it to William in his will. Emma was now advanced in years. The ambition which had been the ruling principle of her life would seem to have been well satisfied, so far as it is possible to satisfy ambition, for she had had two husbands and two sons, all kings of England. But as she advanced to the close of her career, she found herself wretched and miserable. Her son Edward could not forgive her for her abandonment of him and his brother, to marry a man who was their own and their father's bitterest enemy. She had made a formal treaty in her marriage covenant to exclude them from the throne. She had treated them with neglect during all the time of Canute's reign while she was living with him in London in power and splendor. Edward accused her, also, of having connived at his brother Alfred's death. The story is that he caused her to be tried on this charge by the ordeal of fire. This method consisted of laying red hot irons upon the stone floor of a church at certain distances from each other and requiring the accused to walk over them with naked feet. If the accused was innocent, Providence, as they supposed, would so guide his footsteps that he should not touch the irons. Thus, if he was innocent, he would go over safely. If guilty, he would be burned. Emma, according to the story of the Times, was subjected to this test in the Cathedral of Winchester to determine whether she was cognizant of the murder of her son. Whether this is true or not, there is no doubt that Edward confined her, a prisoner in the monastery at Winchester, where she ended her days at last in neglect and wretchedness. When Edward himself drew near to the close of his life, his mind was greatly perplexed in respect to the succession. There was one descendant of his brother Edmund, whose children, it will be remembered, Knute had sent a way to Denmark in order to remove them out of the way, who was still living in Hungary. The name of this descendant was Edward. He was, in fact, the lawful heir to the crown. But he had spent his life in foreign countries and was now far away. And in the meantime, the Earl Godwin, who had been already mentioned as the great Saxon nobleman who rose from a very humble rank to the position of the most powerful subject in the realm, obtained such an influence and wielded so great a power that he seemed at one time stronger than the king himself. Godwin at length died, but his son Harold, who was as energetic and active as his father, inherited his power, and seemed, as Edward thought, to be aspiring to the future possession of the throne. Edward had hated Godwin and all his family, and was now extremely anxious to prevent the possibility of Harold's accession. He accordingly sent to Hungary to bring Edward his nephew home. Edward came bringing his family with him. He had a young son named Edgar. It was King Edward's plan to make arrangements for bringing this Prince Edward to the throne after his death, that Harold might be excluded. The plan was a very judicious one, but it was unfortunately frustrated by Prince Edward's death, which event took place soon after he arrived in England. The young Edgar, then a child, was of course his heir. The king was convinced that no government which could be organized in the name of Edgar would be able to resist the mighty power of Harold, and he turned his thoughts therefore again to the accession of William of Normandy, who was the nearest relative on his mother's side as the only means of saving the realm from falling into the hands of the usurper, Harold. A long and vexatious contest then ensued in which the leading powers and influence of the kingdom were divided and distracted by the plans, plots, maneuvers, and counter maneuvers of Harold to obtain the accession for himself and of Edward to secure it for William of Normandy. In this contest Harold conquered in the first instance, and Edward and William in the end. The son of the Earl of Godwin, who was maneuvering to gain possession of the English throne, and William of Normandy, though they lived on opposite sides of the English Channel, the one in France and the other in England, were still personally known to each other. For not only had William, as was stated in the last chapter, paid a visit to England, but Harold himself, on one occasion, made an excursion to Normandy. The circumstances of this expedition were, in some respects, quite extraordinary, and illustrate in a striking manner some of the peculiar ideas and customs of the times. They were as follows. During the life of Harold's father, Godwin, there was a very serious quarrel between him, that is, Godwin, and King Edward, in which both the king and his rebellious subject marshaled their forces, and for a time waged against each other in open and sangunary war. In this contest the power of Godwin had proved so formidable, and the military forces which he succeeded in marshalling under his banners was so great, that Edward's government was unable, effectively, to put him down. At length, after a long and terrible struggle, which involved a large part of the country and the horrors of a civil war, the beleaguers made a treaty with each other, which settled their quarrel by a sort of compromise. Godwin was to retain his high position and rank as a subject, and to continue in the government of certain portions of the island, which had long been under his jurisdiction. He, on his part, promising to dismiss his armies, and to make war upon the king no more. He bound himself to the faithful performance of these convents, but giving the king hostages. The hostages given up on such occasions were always near and dear relatives and friends, and the understanding was that if the party given them failed in fulfilling his obligations, the innocent and helpless hostages were to be entirely at the mercy of the other party into whose custody they had been given. The latter would, in such cases, imprison them, torture them, or put them to death, with a greater or less degree of severity in respect to the infliction of pain, according to the degree of exasperation which the real or fancied injury which he had received awakened in his mind. This cruel method of binding fierce and unprincipled men to the performance of their promises has been universally abandoned in modern times. Though in the rude and early stages of civilization, it has been practiced among all nations ancient and modern. The hostages chosen were often of young and tender years, and are always such as to render the separation which took place when they were torn from their friends most painful, as it was the very object of the selection to obtain those who were most beloved. They were delivered into the hands of those whom they had always regarded as their bitterest enemies, and who, of course, were objects of aversion and terror. They were sent away into places of confinement and seclusion, and kept in the custody of strangers, where they lived in perpetual fear that some new outbreak between the contending parties would occur, and consigned them to torture or death. The cruelty sometimes inflicted in such cases on the innocent hostages were awful. At one time, during the contensions between Ethelred and Canute, Canute being driven across the country to the sea coast, and there compelled to embark on board his ships to make his escape, was cruel enough to cut off the hands and the feet of some hostages, with Ethelred had previously given him, and leave them writhing in agony on the sands of the shore. The hostages, which were particularly named by historians as given by Godwin to King Edward, were his son and his grandson. Their names were Olnuth and Hakun. Olnuth, of course, was Harold's brother, and Hakun, his nephew. Edward, thinking that Godwin would contrive some means of getting these securities back into his possession again, if he attempted to keep them in England, decided to send them to Normandy, and to put them under the charge of William, the Duke for safe keeping. When Godwin died, Harold applied to Edward to give up the hostages, since, as he alleged, there was no longer any reason for detaining them. They had been given a security for Godwin's good behaviour, and now Godwin was no more. Edward could not well refuse to surrender them, and yet, as Harold succeeded to the power, and evidently possessed all the ambition of his father, it seemed to be politically, as necessary to retain the hostages now, as it had been before. Edward, therefore, without absolutely refusing to surrender them, postponed and evaded compliance with Harold's demand, on the ground that the hostages were in Normandy. He was going, he said, to send for them as soon as he could make the necessary arrangements for bringing them home in safety. Under these circumstances, Harold determined to go and bring them himself. He reposed this plan to Edward. Edward would not absolutely refuse his consent, but he did all in his power to discourage such an expedition. He told Harold that William of Normandy was a crafty and powerful man, that by going into his dominions he would put himself entirely into his power, and would be certain to involve himself in some serious difficulty. This interview between Harold and the King is commemorated in the Bayou tapestry, by the opposite uncouth design. What effect Edward's disapproval of the project produced upon Harold's mind is not certainly known. It is true that he went across the Channel, but the accounts of the crossing are confused and contradictory. Some of them stating that, while sailing for pleasure with a party of attendants and companions of the coast, he was blown off from the shore and driven across to France by a storm. The probability, however, is that this story was only a pretense. He was determined to go, but not wishing to act openly into finance of the King's wishes, he contrived to be blown off, in order to make it seem that he went against his will. At all events the storm was real. Whether he being compelled to leave the English shores by the power of it was real or pretended, it carried him too, out of his course, driving him up the Channel to the eastward of Normandy, where he had intended to land, and at length throwing his galley, a wreck on the shore, not far from the mouth of the Somme. The galley itself was broken tip, but Harold and his company escaped to land. They found that they were in the dominions of a certain Prince, who held possessions on that coast, whose style and title was Guy, Count of Ponture. The law in those days was that wrecks became the property of the Lord of the Territory, on the shores of which they occurred, and not only were the ships and the goods which they contained thus confiscated in case of such a disaster, but the owners themselves became liable to be seized and held captive for a ransom. Harold, knowing his danger, was attempting to secrete himself on the coast, till he could get to Normandy. When a fisherman who saw him, and knew by his dress and appearance, and by the deference with which he was treated by the rest of the company, that he was a man of great consequence in his native land, went to the Count, and said that, for ten crowns, he would show him where there was a man who would be worth a thousand to him. The Count came down with his retinue to the coast, seized the unfortunate adventurers, took possession of all the goods and baggage that the waves had spared, and shut the men themselves up in his castle at Aberville, till they could pay their ransom. Harold remonstrated against this treatment. He said that he was on his way to Normandy, on business of great importance with the Duke, from the King of England, and that he could not be detained. But the Count was very decided in refusing to let him go on without his ransom. Harold then said word to William, acquitting him with his situation, and asking him to effect his release. William sent to the Count, demanding that he should give his prisoner up. All these things, however, only tended to elevate an enlarged account's ideas of the value and importance of the prize which he had been so fortunate to secure. He persisted and refused to give him up without ransom. Finally William paid the ransom, in the shape of a large sum of money, and the session in addition of a considerable territory. Harold and his companions in bondage were then delivered to William's messengers. And conducted by them in safety too were—tch—and conducted by them in safety too were when, where William was then residing. William received his distinguished guest with every possible mark of the most honourable consideration. He was escorted with great parade and ceremony into the palace, lodged in the most sumptuous manner, provided, provided with every necessary supply. And games and military spectacles and feasts and entertainments without number were arranged to celebrate his visit. William informed him that he was at liberty to return to England whenever he pleased, and that his brother and his nephew, the hostages that he'd come to seek, were at his disposal. He, however, urged him to not return immediately, but to remain a short time in Normandy with his companions. Harold accepted the invitation. All the sixuberance of hospitality had its origin, as the reader will readily divine. In the duke's joy in finding the only important rival likely to appear to contest his claims to the English crown, so fully in his power, and in the hope of which he entertained, so managing affairs at this visit as to divert Harold's mind, from the idea of becoming the king of England himself, and to induce him to plead himself to act in his, that is, William's favour. He took therefore all possible pains to make him enjoy his visit in Normandy. He exhibited to him the wealth and the resources of the country, conducting him from place to place to visit the castles, the abbeys and the towns, and finally he proposed that he should accompany him on a military expedition into Brittany. Harold pleaded with the honours conferred upon him, and with the novelty and magnificence of the scenes to which he was induced, entered hardly into all these plans, and his companions and attendants were no less pleased than he. William knighted many of these followers of Harold, and made them costly presents of horses and banners and suits of armour, and other such gifts were calculated to captivate the hearts of martial adventurers such as they. William soon gained an entire ascendancy over their minds, and when he invited them to accompany him on his expedition into Brittany, they were all eager to go. Brittany was west of Normandy, and on the frontiers of it, so the expedition was not a distant one, nor was it long protracted. It was, in fact, a sort of pleasure excursion. William taken his guests across the frontier into his neighbour's territory, on a marauding party, just as a nobleman in modern times, would take a party into a forest to hunt. William and Harold were on the most intimate and friendly terms possible during the continuance of this campaign. They occupied the same tent and ate at the same table. Harold invinced great military talents and much bravery in the various adventures which they met within Brittany. And William felt more than ever the desirableness of securing his influence on his, that is, William's side, or at least of preventing his becoming an open rival and enemy. On their return from Brittany into Normandy, he judged that the time had arrived for take in his measures. He accordingly resolved to come to an open understanding with Harold in respect to his plans and to seek his cooperation. He introduced the subject, the historians say, one day as they were riding along Homewood from their excursion, and had been for some time talking familiarly on the way, relating tales to one another of wars, battles, sieges, and hare-breaths escapes, and other such adventures as formed generally, the subjects of narrative conversation in those days. At length, William, finding Harold as he judged in a favourable mood for such a communication, introduced the subject of the English realm and the approaching demise of the Crown. He told him confidently that there had been an arrangement between him, William, and King Edward for some time, that Edward was to adopt him as his successor. William told Harold, moreover, that he should rely a great deal on his cooperation and assistance in getting peaceable possession of the kingdom, and promised to bestow upon him the very highest rewards and honours in return, if he would give him his aid. The only rival claimant, William, said, was the young child, Edgar, and he had no friends, no party, no military forces, and no means whatever for maintaining his pretenses. On the other hand he, William, and Harold, had obviously all the power in their own hands, and if they could only cooperate together on a common understanding, they would be sure to have the power and the honours of the English realm entirely at their disposal. Harold listened to all these suggestions, and pretended to be interested and pleased. He was in reality interested, but he was not pleased. He wished to secure the kingdom for himself, not merely to obtain a share, however large, of its power, and its honours as a subject of another. He wished to secure the kingdom for himself, not merely to obtain a share, however large, of its powers and its honours as a subject of another. He was, however, too wary to invent his displeasure. On the contrary he ascended to the plan, professed to enter into it with all his heart, and expressed his readiness to commence immediately the necessary preliminary measures for carrying it into execution. William was much gratified with the successful result of his negotiation, and the two chieftains wrote home to William's palace in Normandy, banded together apparently by very strong ties. In secret, however, Harold was resolving to effect his departure from Normandy as soon as possible, and to make immediate and most effectual measures for securing the kingdom of England to himself, without any regard to the promises that he had made to William. Nor must it be supposed that William himself placed any positive reliance on mere promises from Harold. He immediately began to form plans for binding him to the performance of his stipulations, by the Moes then commonly employed for securing the fulfilment of covenants made among princes. These methods were three, into marriages, the giving of hostages, and solemn oaths. William proposed two marriages as means of strengthening the alliance between himself and Harold. Harold was to give to William one of his daughters, that William might marry her to one of his Norman chieftains. This would be, of course, placing her in William's power, and making her a hostage all but in name. Harold, however, consented. The second marriage proposed was between William's daughter and Harold himself. But as his daughter was a child of only seven years of age, it could only be a betrothment that could take place at that time. Harold exceeded this proposal, too, and arrangements were made for having the faith of the parties pledged to one another in the most solemn manner. A great assembly of all the knights, nobles, and ladies of the court was convened, unless they were pledging the troth between the fierce warrior and the gentle and wandering child was performed with as much pomp and parade as if it had been an actual wedding. The name of the girl was Adela. In respect to hostages, William determined to detain one of those whom Harold, as will be recollected, had come into Normandy to recover. He told him, therefore, that he might take with him his nephew Hakun, but that Olnoth, his brother, should remain, and William would bring him over himself when he came to take possession of the kingdom. Harold was extremely unwilling to leave his brother thus in William's power. But as he knew very well that his being allowed to return to England himself would depend upon his not invincing any reluctance to give William security, while manifesting any other indication that he was not intended to keep his plighted faith, he readily consented. And it was thus settled that Olnoth should remain. Finally, in order to hold Harold to the fulfilment of his promises, by every possible form of obligation, William proposed that he should take a public and solemn oath in the presence of a large assembly of all the great potentates and chieftains of the realm, by which he should bind himself under the most awful sanctions to keep his word. Harold made no objections to this either. He considered himself as, in fact, injurious, and his actions as not free. He was in William's power, and was influenced in all he did by a desire to escape from Normandy, and once more recover his liberty. He accordingly decided in his own mind that whatever oaths he might take he should afterwards consider as forced upon him, and consequently as null and void, and was ready, therefore, to take any that William might propose. The great assembly was accordingly convened. In the middle of the council hall there was placed a great chair of state, which was covered with a cloth of gold. Upon this cloth, and raised considerably above the seat, was the missile, that is, the book of the services of the Catholic Church, written on parchment and splendidly illuminated. The book was opened at a passage from one of the Evandalists, the Evandalist being a portion of the Holy Scriptures, which was, in those days, supposed to invest an oath with the most solemn sanctions. Harold felt some slight misgivings, as he advanced in the midst of such an imposing scene as the great assembly of knights and ladies presented in the council hall. To repeat his promises in the very presence of God, and implicate with retributive curses of the Almighty on the violation of them, which he was deliberately and fully determined to incur. He had, however, gone too far to retreat now. He advanced, therefore, to the open missile, latest hand upon the book, and, repeating the words which William dictated to him from his throne, he took his threefold oath required, namely, to aid William to the utmost of his power in his attempt to secure the succession to the English crown, to marry William's daughter Adela, as soon as she should arrive at a suitable age, and to send over forthwith from England his own daughter, that she might be espoused to one of William's nobles. As soon as the oath was thus taken, William caused the missile and the cloth of gold to be removed, and there appeared beneath it, on the chair of state, a chest containing the sacred relics of the church, which William had secretly collected from the abbeys and monasteries of the dominions, and placed in this concealment that, without Harold's being conscious of it, their dreadful sanction might be added to that which the holy evangelist imposed. These relics were fragments of bones setting caskets and frames, and portions of blood. Relics is the monk's alleged of apostles or of the saviour, and small pieces of wood, similarly preserved, which had been portions of the cross of Christ or his own thorny crown. These things were treasured with great solemnity in the monastic establishments, and in the churches of these early times, and were regarded with veneration and awe, of which it is almost beyond our power even to conceive. Harold trembled when he saw what he had unwittingly done. He was terrified to think how much more dreadful was the force of the implications that he had uttered than he had imagined while uttering them. That it was too late to undo what he had done. The assembly was finally dismissed. William thought he had the conscience of his new ally firmly secured, and Harold began to prepare for leaving Normandy. He continued on excellent terms with William, until his departure. William accompanied him to the seashore, when the time of his embarkation arrived, and dismissed him at last with many farewells, and dismissed him at last with many farewell honours, and a profusion of presence. Harold set sail, and, crossing the channel in safety, he landed in England. He commenced immediately an energetic system of measures to strengthen his own cause, and prepared the way for his own accession. He organised his party, collected arms and munitions of war, and did all that he could to integrate himself the most powerful and wealthy nobles. He sought the favour of the King too, and endeavoured to persuade him to discard William. The King was now old and infirm, and was growing more and more inert and gloomy as he advanced in age. His mind was occupied altogether in ecclesical rights and observances, or plunged in a torpid and lifeless melancholy, which made him averse to giving any thought to the course which the affairs of his kingdom were to take after he was gone. He did not care whether Harold or William took the crown when he laid to decide, provided they would allow him to die in peace. He had had, a few years previous to this time, a plan of making a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, but had finally made an arrangement with the Pope, allowing him to build a cathedral church to be dedicated to St Peter, a few miles west of London in lieu of his pilgrimage. There was already a cathedral church or minster in the heart of London, which was dedicated to St Paul. The new one was afterwards called, to distinguish it from the other, the West Minster, which designation, West Minster, became afterwards its regular name. It was in this spot, where Westminster Abbey now stands, that Edward's church was to be built. It was just completed at the time of which we are speaking, and the King was preparing for the dedication of it. He summoned an assembly of all the prelates and great ecclesiastical dignitaries of the land to convene at London, in order to dedicate the new cathedral. Before they were ready for the service, the King was taken suddenly sick. They placed him upon his couch in his palace chamber, where he lay restless and moaning in pain, and repeating incessantly half in sleep and half in delirium, the gloomy and threatening texts of scripture which seemed to haunt his mind. He was eager to have the dedication go on, and they hastened the service in order to gratify him by having it performed before he died. The next day he was obviously failing. Harold and his friends were very earnest to have the departing monarch declare in his favour before he died, and their coming and going and their loud discussions, rude soldiers as they were, disturbed his dying hours. He sent them word to choose whom they would for King Joucaul. It was indifferent to him, and thus expired. Harold had made his arrangements so well, and had managed so effectually to secure the influence of all the powerful nobles of the kingdom, that they immediately convened and offered him the crown. Edgar was in the court of Edward at the time, but he was too young to make any effort to advance his claims. He was in fact a foreigner, though in the English royal line. He had been brought up on the continent of Europe, and could not even speak the English tongue. He acquiesced therefore without complaint in each proceedings, and was even present as a consenting spectator on the occasion of Harold's coronation, which ceremony was performed with great pomp and parade at St Paul's in London, very soon after King Edward's death. Harold rewarded Edgar for his complacence and discretion by conferring upon him the honour of knighthood immediately after the coronation, and in the church where the ceremony was performed. He also conferred similar distinctions and honours upon many other aspiring and ambitious men whom he wished to secure to his side. He thus seemed to have secured and settled possession of the throne. Previously to this time Harold had married a young lady of England, a sister of two very powerful noblemen, and the richest heiress in the realm. This married greatly strengthened his influence in England, and helped to repair the way for his accession to the supreme power. The tidings of it, however, when they crossed the channel and reached the ears of William of Normandy, as the act was an open and deliberate violation of one of the convenants which Harold had made with William, convinced the latter that none of these convenants would be kept, and prepared him to expect all that afterward followed.