of the English army, who retreated under the conduct of Morcar and Edwin. These two thanes, who had firmly adhered to Harold, seeing he was slain, as well as Gurth and Leofwin, his brothers, submitted at length to circumstances, and retreated, having given undoubted proofs of valour during the day.
William, at the height of his wishes, gave orders for the whole army to fall on their knees, and return God thanks for so signal a victory; after which he caused his tent to be pitched in the field of battle, and spent the residue of the night among the slain. Nor less perhaps in gratitude for the past, than in the hope that such a work would procure him heavenly favour for the future, he solemnly vowed that he would erect a splendid abbey on the scene of this his first victory; and when this vow was accomplished, the altar of the abbey church stood on the spot where the standard of Harold had been planted. The holy house thus founded was called Battle Abbey (see page 96).
On the morrow, he ordered his own dead to be buried, and gave the English peasants leave to do the same office for the others; and the bodies of the king and his brothers being found, he sent them to Githa, their mother, who gave them as honourable a burial as the circumstances of the time would permit, in Waltham Abbey, founded by Harold before he was king.
Most of the English historians say that the body was given to his mother without ransom. An ancient manuscript in the Cottonian library, apparently written at Waltham Abbey about a hundred years after the battle, relates that two monks were deputed by William to search for the body of the king. Unable to distinguish it among the nameless dead by which it was surrounded, they sent for Harold's mistress, Editha, called "the swan-necked," whose eye of affection was not to be deceived.
There is a story related by Giraklus Cambrensis, that Harold, after receiving his wound, escaped from the field, and lived several years an anchorite in a cell near St. John's Church, in Chester. This account is, however, in the highest degree improbable, and there is no reason to doubt that the last of the Saxon kings died a soldier's death on the field of Hastings.
CHAPTER XXVII.
William I., Surnamed the Conqueror.
Great as were the disasters of Hastings, the English were still in a position to offer a powerful resistance, had they been united and firm. The population of London took up arms, and were still further strengthened by the arrival of the Earls Edwin and Morcar within their walls, with the remains of the routed army. An assembly of the nobles was convened, in which, as the brothers of Harold were both slain, and his sons too young to govern, Edgar Atheling, the grand-nephew of Edward the Confessor, the only descendant of Cerdic, was proclaimed king, chiefly through the influence of the primate Stigand, and Aldred, the Archbishop of York.
Although dear to the people on account of his birth, Edgar possessed no one quality necessary for the crisis which menaced his kingdom. So weak was his character, that it would have been difficult for him, under the most favourable circumstances, to have maintained himself upon the throne; and he was totally unfitted to cope with an adversary, who was not only the most warlike, but one of the ablest princes of his time.
William remained for some days quietly at Hastings after his victory, not doubting but the terrified inhabitants of London would send a deputation to his camp with offers of submission. Some writers have contended that he was detained by a violent dissension which broke out amongst the soldiers. This inactivity, however, was but of short duration. Finding that no one came to him with offers from the English, and learning that several vessels which his wife Matilda had sent to him with reinforcements from Normandy had been attacked and driven from the coast at Romney, the duke felt that it was time to act, but tempered his ardour with prudence.
His first care was to assure his communications with the continent, and establish a post to which he could retreat in case of a reverse. With this intention, he followed with his army the line of coast between Hastings and Dover, stopping by the way at Romney, which he pillaged and burnt.
The garrison of Dover Castle, a fortress at that time deemed impregnable, yielded without a blow, vanquished by the terror of his name; and was replaced by a force of Normans. Here William remained till he received fresh troops and supplies from Normandy; after which, he advanced with the flower of his army to London.
Finding the approaches to the city well defended, the Conqueror made no attempt to carry it by assault, but dispersed his troops in the neighbourhood, with orders to burn and plunder the villages, and to intercept all supplies to the capital. The two earls, Morcar and Edwin—refusing to yield obedience to the phantom of a king, which the ambitious prelates, who hoped to govern in his name, had caused to be elected—had retired to their respective governments. After their departure the military authority fell into the hands of Ansgar, who filled the office of esquire to the new king. Although deprived of the use of his limbs, he caused himself to be borne on his litter to every point of the city, examined the defences, and exercised the utmost vigilance and zeal for the general safety.
William, who had his spies within the walls, was soon aware of the credit of Ansgar with the people and his influence in the council of the nation, and sent a messenger to him, with secret offers, to bribe him to the Norman interests.
"My master," said the emissary, "merely demands the title of king—he will leave you to govern the kingdom in his name."
Ansgar neither accepted nor rejected these advances, but kept them a secret from the council, whom he persuaded to send au envoy to the duke to sound his intentions
No prince of his day equalled William either in ability or dissimulation; he quickly penetrated the designs of the messenger, whom he seduced, by magnificent promises and protestations.
On his return to the council, the envoy kept his promise to plead the cause of the duke. William, he proclaimed aloud, had not his equal, either in wisdom or courage, amongst the princes of the age: "in the first, he exceeds Solomon; and in the latter, Charlemagne: he demands your suffrages, that you confirm the donation of the kingdom made to him by Edward. The general safety depends upon submission."
