shewed reluctance to his government, resolved to throw off all appearance of lenity, and to incapacitate them from future insurrections. His first step was, to order the county of Northumberland to be laid waste, the houses to be burnt, the instruments of husbandry to be destroyed, and the inhabitants to seek new habitations. By this order, it is said, that above one hundred thousand persons perished either by the sword or famine; and the country is supposed, even at this day, to bear the marks of its ancient depopulation. He next proceeded to confiscate all the estates of the English gentry, and to grant them liberally to his Norman followers. Thus all the ancient and honourable families were reduced to beggary, and the English found themselves entirely excluded from every road that led either to honour or preferment. They had the cruel mortification to find, that all his power only tended to their depression; and that the scheme of their subjection was attended with every circumstance of insult and indignity.

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

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

While he was thus employed in humbling the clergy, he was no less solicitous to repress many of those superstitious practices to which they had given countenance. He endeavoured to abolish trials by ordeal and campfight. The ordeal trial, which had been originally of pagan institution, and was still held in veneration by the Saxon Christians, was either by fire or water. It was used in criminal cases, where the suspicions were strong, but the proofs not evident. In that of fire, the person accused was brought into an open plain, and several red-hot ploughshares were placed at equal intervals before him; over these he was to walk blindfold; and, if he escaped unhurt, he was acquitted of the charge. In the trial by water, the person accused was thrown, bound hand and foot, into the water: if he sunk, he was declared innocent; if he swani, he was executed, as being thus miracu lously convicted. The trial by camp-fight was performed by single combat, in lists appointed for that purpose, between the accuser and the accused, He who, in such a case, came off victorious, was deemed innocent; and he who was conquered, if he survived his antagonist's resentment in the field, was sure to suffer as a malefactor some time after. Both these trials William abolished, as unchristian and unjust; and he reduced alt causes to the judgment of twelve men, of a rank nearly equal to that of the prisoner. This

method of trial by jury was common to the Saxons, as well as the Normans, long before; but it was now confirmed by him with all the sanction of undisputed authority.

While William was thus employed, in rewarding his associates, punishing the refractory, and giving laws for the benefit of all, he was threatened with an insurrection in his dominions on the continent, which he thought his presence necessary to suppress. [A. D. 1073.] Unwilling, however, to draw off bis Norman forces from England, he carried over a considerable army, composed almost entirely of English; and by those brave troops he soon reduced the revolters to submission. Thus we see a whimsical vicissitude of fortune: the inhabitants of Normandy brought over for the conquest of the English, and the English sent back to conquer the Normans. However, William had not time to enjoy his success unmolested; for accounts were quickly brought him from England, that a new conspiracy was formed, more dreadful, in being supported by the joint efforts of the Normans and the English. The adventurers who had followed the fortunes of William into England, had been bred in authority and independence at home, and were ill able to endure the absolute authority which this monarch had for some time assumed. The discontents were therefore become very general among these haughty nobles; and some wanted only the opportunity of his absence to break out into open rebellion. Among the number was Roger, earl of Hereford, son and heir to Fitz-Osborne, who had been the king's principal favourite. This nobleman had, either by way of compliment to the king, or in compliance with some obligation of the feudal law, solicited William's consent to permit the marriage of his sister with Ralph de Guader, earl of Norfolk; but he was flatly refused. Nevertheless, he proceeded to solemnize the nuptials with great magnificence, assembling all his friends, and those of Guader, upon the occasion. As the parents of the new-married couple were well acquainted with the character of William, whose resentment they had every reason to dread, they took the opportunity, while the company was heated with wine, to introduce that as a subject of conversation. They inveighed against the severity of his government; they observed, that, by means of his excessive impositions, he had taken with one hand what he had given with the other they affected to commiserate the English, whom he had reduced to beggary; and aggravated the defects in his disposition, which they represented as haughty and unforgiving. The guests were ready enough at any time to concur in their complaints; but now, warmed by the jollity of the entertainment, they put no bounds to their zeal. They unanimously entered into a conspiracy to shake off his yoke; and earl Waltheoff himself, whom we have already seen pardoned upon a former insurrection, was among the foremost on this occasion. But it was not without the greatest anxiety that he reflected, in his cooler intervals, upon an engagement made in the ardour of intoxication, big with the most fatal consequences both to himself and his country. In this state of perturbation he had recourse to his wife, the niece of the king, and unbosomed himself to her, as he had the most firm reliance on her fidelity. But he was deceived; for she was in love with another, and only wanted an opportunity of getting rid of her husband at any rate. She, therefore, instantly found means to communicate the whole affair to the king, taking care to represent her husband's conduct in the most disadvantageous point of view. In the mean time, Waltheoff himself gave way to his internal remorse, and confessed the whole conspiracy to Lanfranc, who exhorted him, by all means, to reveal it to the king; which he was at last persuaded to do! but it was not till the whole affair had been divulged by his faithless consort. William coolly thanked him for his fidelity; but the former account of his perfidy sunk deep into the king's mind, and he secretly resolved to punish it. During this interval, the conspirators being informed that Waltheoff was gone over to Normandy, justly concluded that their designs were betrayed, and flew to arms before their schemes were ripe for execution. The earl of Hereford was checked by Walter de Lacy, a great baron in the king's interest. The earl of Norfolk was defeated by Odo the king's brother; and the prisoners who were taken had each the right foot cut off, in order to deter others from a similitude of treason. The earl himself retired to Denmark;

so that William, upon his arrival in England, found that nothing remained for him to do but to punish the criminals; which was performed with unusual severity. Many of the rebels were hanged, some had their eyes put out, and others their hands cut off. The unfortunate Waltheoff, who had imprudently entered into the conspiracy, but attempted to atone for his fault by an early confession, found no mercy. He was rich, and he was an Englishman; two faults that served to aggravate his guilt: he was accordingly tried, condemned, and executed. His infamous wife did not long enjoy the fruits of her perfidy; but falling some time after under the king's displeasure, was abandoned by the world, and passed the rest of her life in contempt, remorse, and misery. Some assert that this nobleman fell a sacrifice to the cruelty of Odo, not of William; but, however that may be, it is certain that Waltheoff, and Fitz-Aubert, a noble Norman, who was also beheaded on this occasion, were the only persons of note that were executed during the reign of William the Conqueror. Having thus re-established the peace of his government, and extinguished the last embers of rebellion with blood, William returned once more to the continent, in order to pursue Guader, who, escaping from England, had taken refuge with the count of Bretagne. Finding him, however, too powerfully protected by that prince, instead of prosecuting his vengeance, he wisely came to a treaty with the count, in which Guader was included.

William having thus secured the peace of his dominions, now expected rest from his labours; and finding none either willing or powerful enough to oppose him, he hoped that the end of his reign would be marked with prosperity and peace. But such is the blindness of human hope, that he found enemies where he least expected them, and such too as served to imbitter all the latter part of his life. His last troubles were excited by his own children, from the opposing of whom he could expect to reap neither glory nor gain. He had four sons, Robert, Richard, William, and Henry, besides several daughters. Robert, his eldest son, surnamed Curthose, from the shortness of his legs, was a prince who inherited all the bravery of his family and nation, but was rather bold than prudent, rather enterprising than politic. Earnest after fame, and even impatient that his father should stand in the way, he aspired to that independence to which his temper, as well as some circumstances in his situation, conspired to invite him. He had formerly been promised by his father the government of Maine, a province of France, which had submitted to William, and was also declared successor to the dukedom of Normandy. However, when he came to demand an execution of these engagements, he received an absolute denial; the king shrewdly observing, that it was not his custom to throw off his clothes till he went to bed. Robert openly declared his resentment, and was often heard to express his jealousy of his two surviving brothers, William and Henry; for Richard was killed in hunting, by a stag. These, by greater assiduity, had wrought upon the credulity and affections of the king, and consequently were the most obnoxious to Robert. A mind, therefore, so well prepared for resentment, soon found or made a cause for an open rupture. The princes were one day in sport together, and, in the idle petulance of play, took it into their heads to throw water upon their elder brother as he passed through the court on leaving their apartment. Robert, all alive to suspicion, quickly turned this idle frolic into a studied indignity; and having these jealousies inflamed by one of his favourites, he drew his sword, and ran up stairs with an intent to take revenge. The whole castle was quickly filled with tumult, and it was not without some difficulty that the king himself was able to appease it. But he could not allay the animosity, which, from that moment, ever after prevailed in his family. Robert, attended by several of his confederates, withdrew to Rouen that very night, hoping to surprise the castle; but his design was defeated by the governor.

The flame being thus kindled, the popular character of the prince, and a sympathy of manners, engaged all the young nobility of Normandy and Maine, as well as of Anjou and Bretagne, to espouse his quarrel; [A. D. 1077.] even his mother, it is said, supported him by secret remittances, and aided him in this obstinate resistance by private encouragement. This unnatural contest

continued for several years to inflame the Norman state; and William was at last obliged to have recourse to England for supporting his authority against his son. Accordingly, drawing an army of Englishmen together, he led them over into Normandy; where he soon compelled Robert and his adherents to quit the field, and he was quickly reinstated in all his dominions. [A. D. 1079.] As for Robert, being no longer able to resist his father, he was obliged to take shelter in the castle of Gerberoy, which the king of France had provided for him, where he was shortly after besieged by his father. As the garrison was strong, and conscious of guilt, it made a most gallant defence; and many were the skirmishes and duels that were fought under its walls. In one of these, accident brought the king and his son together; but, being both concealed by their helmets, they attacked each other with mutual fury. A fierce and dreadful combat ensued between them, till at last the young prince wounded his father in the arm, and threw him from his horse. The next blow would, in all probability, have put an end to the king's life, had he not cried out for assistance. Robert then immediately recollected his father's voice; and at once stung with a consciousness of his crime, he leaped from his horse, and raised the fallen monarch from the ground. He then prostrated himself in his presence, and craved pardon for his offences, promising for the future a strict adherence to his duty. The resentment harboured by the king was not so easily appeased; perhaps his indignation at being overcome, added to his anger: instead, therefore, of pardoning his son, he gave him his malediction, and departed for his own camp on Robert's horse, which the prince had assisted him to mount. However, the conduct of the son served, after some recollection, to appease the father. As soon as William had returned to Rouen, he became reconciled to Robert, and carried him with him into England, where he was successfully employed in reta→ liating an invasion of Malcolm king of Scotland.

William, being thus freed from foreign and domestic enemies, began to have sufficient leisure for a more attentive application to the duties of peace. [A. D. 1081.] For this purpose the Domesday Book was compiled by his order, which contains a general survey of all the lands in the kingdom; their extent in each district; their proprietors, tenures, value, the quantity of meadow, pasture, wood, and arable land, which they contained; and in some counties, the number of tenants, cottagers, and people of all denominations, who lived upon them. This detail enabled him to regulate the taxations in such a manner, that all the inhabitants were compelled to bear their duties in proportion to their abilities.

He was no less careful of the methods of saving money than of accumulation. He reserved a very ample revenue for the crown; and in the general distribution of land among his followers, he kept possession of no less than fourteen hundred manors in different parts of the country. Such was his income, that it is justly said to have exceeded that of any English prince either before or since his time. No king of England was ever so opulent; none so able to support the splendour and magnificence of a court; none had so many places of trust and profit to bestow; and none, consequently, had his commands attended with such implicit obedience.

There was one pleasure to which William, as well as all the Normans and ancient Saxons, was addicted, which was hunting. To indulge this in its utmost extent, he depopulated the county of Hants for thirty miles, turning out the inhabitants, destroying all the villages, and making the wretched outcasts no compensation for such an injury. In the time of the Saxon kings, all noblemen without distinction had a right to hunt in the royal forests; but William appropriated all these, and published very severe laws to prohibit his subjects from encroaching on this part of his prerogative. The killing of a deer, a boar, or even a harc, was punished with the loss of the delinquent's eyes, at a time when the killing of a man might be atoned for by paying a moderate fine or composition.

As the king's wealth and power were so great, it may be easily supposed that the riches of his ministers were in proportion. Those of his uterine brother Odo, bishop of Bayeux, were so great, that he resolved to purchase the papacy. For this purpose, taking the opportunity of William's absence, he

equipped a vessel at the Isle of Wight, on board of which he sent immense treasures, and prepared for his embarkation; but he was unfortunately detained by contrary winds. In the mean time, William, having had intimation of his design, resolved to prevent the exportation of so much wealth from his dominions. Accordingly, returning from Normandy, where he was then employed, be came into England at the very instant his brother was stepping on board, and immediately ordered him to be made a prisoner. His attendants, however, respecting the immunities of the church, scrupled to execute his commands; so that the king himself was obliged with his own hands to seize him. Odo, disconcerted at so unexpected an intervention, appealed to the pope; who, he alleged, was the only person upon earth to try a bishop. To this the king replied, that he did not seize him as Bishop of Bayeux, but as the earl of Kent; and in that capacity he expected, and would have, an account of his administration. He was, therefore, sent prisoner into Normandy; and notwithstanding all the remonstrances and threats of Gregory, he was detained in custody during the remainder of William's reign.

William had scarcely put an end to this transaction, when he felt a very severe blow in the death of Matilda, his queen; and, as misfortunes generally come together, he received information of a general insurrection in Maine, the nobility of which had been always averse from the Norman government. Upon his arrival on the continent, he found that the insurgents had been secretly assisted and excited by the king of France, whose policy consisted in thus lessening the Norman power, by creating dissensions among the nobles of its different provinces. William's displeasure was not a little increased by the account he received of some railleries which that monarch had thrown out against him. It seems that William, who was become corpulent, had been detained in bed some time by sickness; and Philip was heard to say, that he only lay-in of a big-belly. This so provoked the English monarch, that he sent him word he should soon be up, and would, at his churching, present such a number of tapers as would set the kingdom of France in a flame.

In order to perform this promise, he levied a strong army, and, entering the Isle of France, destroyed and burnt all the villages and houses without opposition. [A. D. 1087.] He took the town of Mante, which he reduced to ashes. But the progress of these hostilities was stopped by an accident, which shortly after put an end to William's life. His horse chancing to place his fore-feet on some hot ashes, plunged so violently, that the rider was thrown forward, and bruised upon the pommel of the saddle to such a degree, that he suffered a relapse, and was obliged to return to Rouen. Finding his illness increase, and being sensible of the approach of death, he began to turn his eyes to a future state, from which the pursuit of ambition had long averted them. He was now struck with remorse for all his cruelties and depredations: he endeavoured to atone for his former offences by large presents to churches and monasteries, and by giving liberty to many prisoners, whom he had unjustly detained. He was even prevailed on, though not without reluctance, to consent, with his dying breath, to the deliverance of his brother Odo, against whom he was extremely incensed. He then bequeathed Normandy and Maine to his eldest son Robert, whom he never loved; to Henry he left five thousand pounds and his mother's jointure, without the smallest territory; and though he would not pretend to establish the succession of the crown of England, to which he now began to perceive that he had no title, he expressed his wish that it might devolve to his favourite son William, whom he immediately despatched with letters to the archbishop of Canterbury, desiring his assistance. Having thus regulated his temporal affairs, he was conveyed in a litter to a little village near Rouen, where he might settle the concerns of his soul without noise or interruption. It was there that he died, in the sixty-fifth year of his age, after having reigned fifty-three years in Normandy, and almost twenty-one in England. His body was interred in the church at Caen, which he himself had founded: but his interment was attended with a remarkable circumstance. As the body was carrying to the grave, the prelates and priests attending with the most awful silence, a man, who stood upon an eminence, was heard to cry out