which fashion being first taken up by him, was then followed by all Normans."

Such in the force of his youth was the hero whose destiny it was to be the conqueror of England. He had long harboured the design, and the death of King Edward gave him what he thought was a good opportunity of invasion. It is not likely that he regarded seriously the claim which he made to the throne of England. The wealth and resources of England had tempted many an invader from the Romans downwards, and William cast an envious eye towards our shores, as the others had done before him. He was rather a pirate, eager to lay his hands upon a rich prey, than an exiled monarch, intent upon seizing a kingdom that he deemed his own. At the same time, he preferred to conduct his raid decently and in order. As soon as Harold was crowned, therefore, he sent a messenger to him, demanding that he should pay him a due allegiance, and that he might stand well with Rome he denounced Harold for a usurper to Alexander II., and humbly asked a papal blessing. The Pope replied by sending him a consecrated banner, and he began his preparations for the great event under the best auspices.

William was what would be called to-day an efficient organiser. He left nothing to chance. He allowed no difficulty to stand in the way of his success. He had made up his mind to invade England

upon such a scale as would have baffled any other of the sons of men, and he was not to be turned from his purpose. When the barons of Normandy were reluctant to help him, he went farther afield to find his warriors, and Brittany gave freely what Normandy had withheld. He did not make light of the problem which confronted him. He was determined that it should not remain insoluble. His army consisted of 5000 men, many of them mounted, and these, horses and all, he resolved to transport to England in open boats. Such a feat had never before been attempted, and more than seven hundred years later it defied the courage and enterprise of Napoleon himself. First of all, he set about building ships in every convenient place in Normandy, and by September 1066 his fleet was assembled at St Valery.

Here the good luck which seldom deserted him came to William's aid. The wind, which had been unfavourable, suddenly veered about, and William found himself and his fleet without mishap at Pevensey.

As he had never doubted that his fleet would pass safely to the English coast, so never for a moment did he fear defeat. No sooner had he landed his troops, and seen his trenches dug, than he sent his ships home again, "leaving to his soldiers no hope to save themselves but only by victory." This was done and said in the grand manner, as all things were done and said by him.

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From the very first he looked on his hold upon England as permanent. When he first set foot upon our shore, before he had drawn his sword in battle, he proclaimed that henceforth the land was his own. He forbade his soldiers to spoil the country. It were cruelty," said he, "to spoil them who in a short time would be his subjects." With this temper alert within him, how could he fail? And he faced Harold, who marched south with all speed to meet him, with a tranquil confidence.

The two kings began with the usual skirmishes of words. William sent a messenger to Harold demanding the kingdom in so fierce a manner that the messenger barely escaped with his life. Harold, in reply, bade William to make no stay in the country, but to leave it as quickly as he came thither. The night before the battle was spent, it is said, by the English in feasting, by the Normans in devotion. At daybreak both armies were ready for the fray. William put an edge upon the courage of his soldiers, if indeed it needed it, by telling them that they were in a country both hostile and unknown, before them the sword, the vast ocean behind, no place of retreat, no surety but in valour and in victory. The Normans responded joyously to his call, and rushed forward upon their enemy, singing a song of the gallant deeds of Roland. The battle was stoutly contested throughout the long day, and with varying fortune. At last the Norman

archers did their work, for the armour of the English

not proof against the arrows which the invaders

poured upon them. Nor was the lesson lost upon the English, who, willing to be taught by the enemy, adopted the bow as their own weapon, and presently used it with effect upon all comers. As night closed in, Harold, the king, was hit by an arrow in his left eye, an arrow shot by a bowman at a venture, and his loss brought the battle to an end. William set up his pavilion in the midst of the stricken field, and knew himself the Conqueror of England.

As he lost no time in winning the victory, so he lost no time in assuring the victory which he had won. He wished the English to be his willing subjects, and those who yielded to his sovereignty he treated with amiability, and even preferred to high positions of trust. As he was no coward, so he was rarely cruel, and he was eager to spare the English, whom he had defeated, if only they willingly accepted the easy yoke he laid upon them. No conquered country was ever treated in a milder spirit of conciliation. He came not to terrify but to appease. ing the whole of his government," says a biographer, “the kingdom received no unusual change, no loss or diminution of honour. For neither were the old inhabitants expelled, as were the Britons; neither was the kingdom subjected or annexed to a greater. . The

Thus, without delay and with no undue speed, William reduced this realm of England to order and prosperity. What he did he did not merely for his own lifetime, but for the centuries that lay ahead of him. Many of the customs which he established still survive in our midst. We no longer obey the curfew, and extinguish our fires and lights at its signal, but we may still hear it in certain corners of our land, and remember the wise foresight of our conqueror. The celebrated Domesday Book, in which is recorded an exact survey of nearly the whole land, remains the most precious record that we have of our realm and our wealth. And the beneficent influence of the conqueror's invasion is seen still in our life and art. In the law courts you may hear an echo of the wisdom of the Normans; you may listen to their ancient tongue in the ceremonies of Parliament. It

was from the Normans that we learned the marvellous art of building, which is seen in

and in many a ruined castle. Even our literature had taken another turning had not Norman French, the language of our Court, pointed out to it the better way, and influenced the first great poet of England, Chaucer himself. Wherefore whatever honour is done to William, the Duke of Normandy, in Falaise or in Rouen, should be repeated in our midst, in Westminster Abbey, where he was crowned at Christmas 1066, in other places which he distinguished by his presence, and especially at Hastings, where for good or evil his victory meant and means so much for us. "It is constantly affirmed," says the chronicler, "that the ground whereon the English and the Normans did combat doth show after every rain manifest marks of blood upon the grass, which if it was not a property of the soil before, it is now hard to assign, either from what natural cause it doth proceed, or what it should portend." It is hard indeed, and we would not attempt to answer the riddle. The mere fact that the legend is recalled is proof that the field of Hastings is still a place of wonder and surmise.