It was to the evil choice of his favourites during the early part of his reign that most of the misfortunes of his time were owing, and that a still more direct path was opened for the ambition of his Norman kinsman. In the latter part of his reign, either by happy accident or returning good sense, led him to a better choice. Without a guide he could not reign, but the good fortune of his later years gave him the wisest and noblest of all guides.
We have now reached the first appearance of the illustrious man round whom the main interest of this history will henceforth centre. The second son of Godwine lived to be the last of our kings, the hero and martyr of our native freedom. The few recorded actions of Harold, Earl of the East Angles, could hardly have enabled me to look forward to the glorious career of Harold, Earl of the West Saxons, King of the English.
Tall in stature, beautiful in countenance, of a bodily strength whose memory still lives in the rude pictorial art of his time, he was foremost alike in the active courage and in the passive endurance of the warrior. It is plain that in him, no less than in his more successful, and, therefore, more famous, rival, we have to admire not only the mere animal courage, but that true skill of the leader of armies which would have placed both Harold and William high among the captains of any age.
Great as Harold was in war, his character as a civil ruler is still more remarkable, still more worthy of admiration. The most prominent feature in his character is his singular gentleness and mercy. Never, either in warfare or in civil strife, do we find Harold bearing hardly upon an enemy. From the time of his advancement to the practical government of the kingdom there is not a single harsh or cruel action with which he can be charged.
Such was the man who, seemingly in the fourth year of Eadward, in the twenty-fourth of his own age, was invested with the rule of one of the great divisions of England, who, seven years later, became the virtual ruler of the kingdom; who, at last, twenty-one years from his first elevation, received, alone among English kings, the crown of England as the free gift of her people, and, alone among English kings, died axe in hand on her soil in the defence of England against foreign invaders.
William of Normandy bears a name which must for ever stand forth among the foremost of mankind. No man that ever trod this earth was endowed with greater natural gifts; to no man was it ever granted to accomplish greater things. No man ever did his work more effectually at the moment; no man ever left his work behind him as more truly an abiding possession for all time. In his character one feature stands out pre-eminently above all others. Throughout his career we admire in him the embodiment in the highest degree that human nature will allow of the fixed purpose and the unbending will.
We are too apt to look upon William as simply the conqueror of England. But so to do is to look at him only in his most splendid, but at the same time his least honourable, aspect. William learned to become the conqueror of England only by first becoming the conqueror of Normandy and the conqueror of France. He found means to conquer Normandy by the help of France, and to conquer France by the help of Normandy. He came to his duchy under every disadvantage. At once bastard and minor, with competitors for his coronet arising at every moment, he was throughout the whole of his early life beset by troubles, none of which were of his own making, and he came honourably out of all.
In 1052, William paid his memorable visit to England. At that time both Normandy and England were at rest, enjoying peace. Visits of mere friendship and courtesy among sovereign princes were rare in those days. Such visits as those which William and Eustace of Boulogne paid at this time to this country were altogether novelties, and unlikely to be acceptable to the English mind. We may be sure that every patriotic Englishman looked with an evil eye on any French-speaking prince who made his way to the English court.
William came with a great following; he tarried awhile in his cousin's company; he went away loaded with gifts and honours. And he can hardly doubt that he went away encouraged by some kind of promise of succeeding to the kingdom which he now visited as a stranger. Direct heirs were lacking to the royal house, and William was Eadward's kinsman. The moment was in every way favourable for suggesting to William on the one hand, to Eadward on the other, the idea of an arrangement by which William should succeed to the English crown on Eadward's death. The Norman writers are full of Eadward's promise to William, and also of some kind of oath that Harold swore to him. Had either the promise or the oath been a pure Norman invention, William could never have paraded both in the way that he did in the eyes of Europe. I admit, then, some promise of Eadward, some oath of Harold. But when the time came for Eadward the Confessor to make his final recommendation of a successor, he certainly changed his purpose; for his last will, so far as such an expression can be used, was undoubtedly in favour of Harold.
There is not the slightest sign of any intention on the part of Eadward during his later years to nominate William to the Witan as future king. The two streams of English and Norman history were joined together in the year when the two sovereigns met for the only time in their reigns. Those streams again diverged. England shook off the Norman influence to all outward appearance, and became once more the England of Æthelstan and Eadgar. But the effects of Eadgar's Norman tendencies were by no means wholly wiped away. Normans still remained in the land, and circumstances constituted secondary causes of the expedition of William.