THE NORMAN CONQUEST: COMPLEX COMMINGLING OF FACETIOUS ACCORD AND IMPLACABLE DISCORD.

The Norman invasion was one of the most unpleasant features of this period. Harold had violated his oath to William, and many of his superstitious followers feared to assist him on that account. His brother advised him to wait a few years and permit the invader to die of exposure. Thus, excommunicated by the Pope and not feeling very well anyway, Harold went into the battle of Hastings, October 14, 1066. For nine hours they fought, the English using their celebrated squirt-guns filled with hot water and other fixed ammunition. Finally Harold, while straightening his sword across his knee, got an arrow in the eye, and abandoned the fight in order to investigate the surprises of a future state.

In this battle the contusions alone amounted to over ninety-seven, to say nothing of fractures, concussions, and abrasions.

Among other casualties, the nobility of the South of England was killed.

Harold’s body was buried by the sea-shore, but many years afterwards disinterred, and, all signs of vitality having disappeared, he was buried again in the church he had founded at Waltham.

The Anglo-Saxons thus yielded to the Normans the government of England.

In these days the common people were called churls, or anything else that happened to occur to the irritable and quick-witted nobility. The rich lived in great magnificence, with rushes on the floor, which were changed every few weeks. Beautiful tapestry similar to the rag-carpet of America adorned the walls and prevented ventilation.

Glass had been successfully made in France and introduced into England. A pane of glass indicated the abode of wealth, and a churl cleaning the window with alcohol by breathing heavily upon it, was a sign that Sir Reginald de Pamp, the pampered child of fortune, dwelt there.

To twang the lyre from time to time, or knock a few mellow plunks out of the harp, was regarded with much favor by the Anglo-Saxons, who were much given to feasting and merriment. In those pioneer times the “small and early” had not yet been introduced, but “the drunk and disorderly” was regarded with much favor.

Free coinage was now discussed, and mints established. Wool was the principal export, and fine cloths were taken in exchange from the Continent. Women spun for their own households, and the term spinster was introduced.

The monasteries carefully concealed everything in the way of education, and even the nobility could not have stood a civil service examination.

The clergy were skilled in music, painting, and sculpture, and loved to paint on china, or do sign-work and carriage painting for the nobility. St. Dunstan was quite an artist, and painted portraits which even now remind one strangely of human beings.

Edgar Atheling, the legal successor of Harold, saw at a glance that William the Conqueror had come to stay, and so he yielded to the Norman, as shown in the accompanying steel engraving copied from a piece of tapestry now in possession of the author, and which descended to him, through no fault of his own, from the Normans, who for years ruled England with great skill, and from whose loins he sprang.

William was crowned on Christmas Day at Westminster Abbey as the new sovereign. It was more difficult to change a sovereign in those days than at present, but that is neither here nor there.

The people were so glad over the coronation that they overdid it, and their ghoulish glee alarmed the regular Norman army, the impression getting out that the Anglo-Saxons were rebellious, when as a matter of fact they were merely exhilarated, having tanked too often with the tankard.

William the Conqueror now disarmed the city of London, and tipping a number of the nobles, got them to wait on him. He rewarded his Norman followers, however, with the contraband estates of the conquered, and thus kept up his conking for years after peace had been declared.

But the people did not forget that they were there first, and so, while William was in Normandy, in the year 1067 A.D., hostilities broke out. People who had been foreclosed and ejected from their lands united to shoot the Norman usurper, and it was not uncommon for a Norman, while busy usurping, to receive an arrow in some vital place, and have to give up sedentary pursuits, perhaps, for weeks afterwards.

In 1068 A.D., Edgar Atheling, Sweyn of Denmark, Malcolm of Scotland, and the sons of Harold banded together to drive out the Norman. Malcolm was a brave man, and had, it is said, captured so many Anglo-Saxons and brought them back to Scotland, that they had a very refining influence on that country, introducing the study of the yoke among other things with moderate success.

William hastily returned from Normandy, and made short work of the rebellion. The following year another outbreak occurring in Northumberland, William mischievously laid waste sixty miles of fertile country, and wilfully slaughtered one hundred thousand people, men, women, and children. And yet we have among us those who point with pride to their Norman lineage when they ought to be at work supporting their families.

In 1070 the Archbishop of Canterbury was degraded from his position, and a Milanese monk on his Milan knees succeeded him. The Saxons became serfs, and the Normans used the school tax to build large, repulsive castles in which to woo the handcuffed Anglo-Saxon maiden at their leisure. An Anglo-Saxon maiden without a rope ladder in the pocket of her basque was a rare sight. Many very thrilling stories are written of those days, and bring a good price.

William was passionately fond of hunting, and the penalty for killing a deer or boar without authority was greater than for killing a human being out of season.

In order to erect a new forest, he devastated thirty miles of farming country, and drove the people, homeless and foodless, to the swamps. He also introduced the curfew, which he had rung in the evening for his subjects in order to remind them that it was time to put out the lights, as well as the cat, and retire. This badge of servitude caused great annoyance among the people, who often wished to sit up and visit, or pass the tankard about and bid dull care begone.

William, however, was not entirely happy. While reigning, his children grew up without proper training. Robert, his son, unhorsed the old gentleman at one time, and would have killed him anonymously, each wearing at the time a galvanized iron dinner-pail over his features, but just at the fatal moment Robert heard his father’s well-known breath asserting itself, and withheld his hand.

William’s death was one of the most attractive features of his reign. It resulted from an injury received during an invasion of France.

Philip, the king of that country, had said something derogatory regarding William, so the latter, having business in France, decided to take his army with him and give his soldiers an outing. William captured the city of Mantes, and laid it in ashes at his feet. These ashes were still hot in places when the great conqueror rode through them, and his horse becoming restive, threw His Royal Altitoodleum on the pommel of his saddle, by reason of which he received a mortal hurt, and a few weeks later he died, filled with remorse and other stimulants, regretting his past life in such unmeasured terms that he could be heard all over the place.

The “feudal system” was now fully established in England, and lands descended from father to son, and were divided up among the dependants on condition of the performance of vassalage. In this way the common people were cheerily permitted the use of what atmosphere they needed for breathing purposes, on their solemn promise to return it, and at the close of life, if they had succeeded in winning the royal favor, they might contribute with their humble remains to the fertility of the royal vegetable garden.