of course, the fall of Roland. In Janu-procured from her guardians, the fears ary, 1793, he had resigned a place which of the revolutionary tribunals lest her it had for some time been a dishonor to eloquent voice should be heard at the hold. But this was not enough to ap- trial of the Girondists, the fortitude with pease such enemies as Robespierre, Hé- which she bore the sharpest "slings and bert, and Marat. On or about the 31st arrows of outrageous fortune," the seof May, his arrest was decreed by the renity of mind that enabled her to write Revolutionary Committee, and he fled. her memoirs untroubled even in the His wife, who had something of the shadow of death, and, lastly, the high Roman in her composition, made no at- courage with which she went to the tempt to escape. scaffold. It was not a Christian end, for Madame Roland had long forsworn the faith of her early years; but it was an end of which a Roman or a Spartan might have been proud. Her husband, as she had prophesied, committed suicide on hearing of her fate. "I thought it quite right," says she, "that Roland should elude the popular fury and the talons of his enemies. As for me, their interest to do me harm could not be so great; to kill me would be an act so detestable that they would not care to incur its odium; to put me in prison would scarcely serve them, and would, as far as I was concerned, be no great misfortune. If they had some shame and went through the usual forms of interrogating me, etc., I should have no difficulty in confounding them; that might even serve to enlighten those who were really deceived with regard to Roland. If they actually instituted a new 2d of September [the date of the massacres], it could only be in the event of their having in their power all the upright deputies, and of all being lost in Paris. In that case I would rather die than be a witness of the ruin of my country; I should feel honored by being included among the glorious victims sacrificed to the rage of crime. The fury assuaged on me would be less violent against Roland, who, once safe from this crisis, might again render great services to some portions of France. Thus one of two things must happen: either I am only in danger of an imprisonment and of a judicial procedure which I shall be able to render useful to my country and to my husband, or, if I must die, it will only be in an extremity in which life will be hateful to me." To these reasons, as we shall have further occasion to show, must be added Madame Roland's love for one of the Girondist leaders. But such words, be it remembered, are not in her mouth mere empty gasconade. Nothing in her words or actions during the term of her imprisonment belies these sentiments. Never once did she stoop to beg any favor from her tormentors, or cease to speak to them with the contempt they deserved. But into the details of that imprisonment, and of her trial and death, we must forbear to enter. We will not describe the cruel farce of her release and recapture, the respect with which she inspired even the fallen women in the prison, the favors her gracious conduct There is, however, one point in Madame Roland's life and character to which we must revert, inasmuch as it forms the main feature of M. Dauban's interesting, though somewhat grandiloquent etude. It had always been suspected that, during the last year or two of her life, she had nourished for some one of the Girondist leaders a warmer affection than the cold friendship and esteem she felt for her husband. She herself had made no secret of the fact, adverting to it pretty openly in several passages of her memoirs; but these passages had nearly all been suppressed by the first editor, M. Bose, and are only now restored. In her "last thoughts," written when she had abandoned all hope and was contemplating suicide, after addressing her husband and her child, she exclaims: "And thou whom I dare not name! thou whom men will some day better appreciate, pitying our common sorrows, thou whom the most terrible of passions did not prevent from respecting the barriers of virtue, wouldst thou mourn to see me preceding thee to a place where we can love one another without wrong, where nothing will prevent our union? There all pernicious prejudices, all arbitrary exclusions, all hateful passions, and all kinds of tyranny are silent. I shall wait for thee there and rest.” The whole piece ends with these words: "Farewell. . . . No, from thee alone this is no separation; to quit the earth is to draw nearer to thee." Hitherto the name, and, owing to Bose's mutilations, even the existence of this Platonic though impassioned lover had remained doubtful. But towards the close of last year, an acciden tal treasure-trove of old papers cleared up the mystery. These papers contained several documents of great interest bearing on the fall of the Girondists, and, among others, some letters written by Madame Roland during her captivity to the proscribed Buzot, who had been one of the most ardent Girondist members of the Convention Nationale, and was then an exile and a fugitive vainly striving to rouse the provinces to resist the murderers of the capital. Four of these letters are printed in fac-simile by M. Dauban. The handwriting is neat and clear, and they are written almost without erasure. The sentiments are a mixt ure of patriotism, indignation, and intense personal tenderness. Her love for her correspondent and her determination to remain true to her husband create a conflict in her mind which finds expression in such passages as the following: "I scarcely dare to tell you, and you are the only one in the world who can understand, that I was not very sorry to be arrested. "They will be the less furious, the less eager, in their pursuit of R.' [Roland], said I to my self; if they attempt any trial, I shall know how to conduct it in a manner that will be useful to his glory;' it seemed to me that I was then giving him an indemnity for his sorrows; but do you not also see that, in being alone, I live with you? Thus by my captivity, I sacrifice myself for my husband, and I keep myself to my friend; and I owe it to my tormentors to conciliate my duty with my love. Do not pity me! others admire my courage, but they do not know my enjoyments; you who must feel them likewise, oh, make them retain all their charms by the constancy of your courage." The feelings to which these words give utterance form the groundwork of the four letters letters strangely rescued from oblivion to shed a glare of light on the characters of these two actors in a drama now long played out. It is a phenomenon curiously illustrative of the manners of the time that neither Madame Roland nor Buzot, though both married, saw anything to be ashamed of in their mutual love. On the contrary, all the passages in their writings that relate to the subject tend to show that they were proud of it. M. Roland, the reader will not be surprised to hear, did not view the matter in the same light, and seems to have been deeply grieved. Doubtless, if Madame Buzot's opinion could also be obtained, it would be found equally unfavorable. But as regards the two lovers themselves, they appear to have thought that, so long as there was no actual violation of the marriage vow, their wife and husband respectively had no right to com plain if they loved somebody else. In extenuation of this monstrous proposition it must, however, be remembered that, during the last century, adultery was by no means a rare sin on the other side of the channel and that, therefore, so long as Buzot and Madame Roland stopped short of that offence they might have some excuse for thinking they had not strayed out of the paths of virtue. One word more respecting the memoirs, and another respecting the rival editions of M. Dauban and M. Faugère, and we have done. The memoirs, as we have already said, were written in the few months of Madame Roland's capin the face of great difficulties and dantivity. They were written and preserved gers, and a portion even perished in the flames. This sufficiently accounts for their fragmentary character. We may further state, for the benefit of such of our readers as may not be acquainted with them that they consist of a very interesting account of the authoress's own early life, of sketches of her husband's public career, and of descriptions. of many of the public characters with whom she had been brought into contact. The style, like that of most of her contemporaries, is pretentious, and wants naturalness and ease. It shows too many traces of Rousseau's influence. there is something in which Madame Roland's admiration for that great writer has led her even more seriously astray. For it is probably to the influence of the "Confessions" that we owe those passages in the memoirs which a pureminded woman ought never to have written, and for which a self-complacent determination to lay her whole heart bare to the public gaze is not a sufficient excuse. But Having spoken about herself with such absolute freedom, not to say license, Madame Roland doubtless thought she had every right to do the same concerning her child, her husband, and, indeed, any one she might have occasion to mention. It was, therefore, no wonder that, when, in 1795, two years after her death, M. Bose published the first edition of her memoirs, he should have suppressed many passages and altered others. In the two editions now before us, however, all these passages have very properly been restored. M. Faugère, who was on intimate terms with Madame Champagneux, the daughter of Madame Ronald, obtained a correct copy of the original MS. while it was in her possession; and that correct copy is the text of his edition. On her death, Madame Champagneux, at M. Faugère's suggestion, left the MS. to the Imperial Library, where it has been carefully consulted by M. Dauban. Thus, as regards accuracy, there is, probably, not much to choose between the two. Unfortunately, however, M. Faugère has not thought it necessary to indicate the restored passages, and there M. Dauban has the advantage of him. But then, on the other hand, M. Faugère's two volumes contain some useful and interesting appendices which are wanting in his rival's work. But then, again, in addition to his edition of the memoirs, M. Dauban has given us a valuable sketch of Madame Roland's career and three or four documents of capital importance towards a correct estimate of her char acter. British Quarterly. WILLIAM OF NORMANDY.* SANGUINARY as was this battle, and complete as was the victory, had Harold survived it might have ranked but as the first of a series of conflicts between Saxon and Norman power; but with the death of the leader, all hope of rallying the remains of his army, or of supplying new forces, vanished. Still, England was not as yet at the feet of the conqueror. His victory at most only gave him supremacy in Wessex. In Mercia were the powerful brothers Edwin and Morcar, supported by a large army; and it appears -although the details are very obscure that on their advancing to London one of them sought to obtain the throne. But Edgar the Atheling was there-a little child, indeed, but who, as the sole descendant of the line of Cerdic, had the * Concluded from page 114. sole hereditary claim to the crown, and "infant as he was, he was therefore proclaimed Basileus of England, by the au thority of the rectores and potentes then in the city." Meanwhile William proceeded against Romney, which he took; then to Dover, and from thence to Canterbury, which "gave the bad precedent of being the first community which had made a formal submission of their own free will, and unenforced by the sword." William now advanced till within a day's march of London, and here, just below the reach of Greenhithe, the memorable meeting with the Kentish men took place. "The poetry in this tradition must not induce us to reject its substantive truth. Indeed, taking the transactions at the wood of Swanscombe at their lowest value, they fully evidence the main fact, that the Kentish men, having awed the conqueror into an unwilling pacification, received from the beginning a greater share of indulgence." What might not have been the result had other parts of the kingdom stood out as firmly? London was next to be reduced, and a detachment of William's army was sent to begin the siege, while he passed across the country to Winchester, which, as the city assigned in dowry to Editha, the widow of the Confessor, he treated with respect, merely requiring the citizens to render fealty. The siege of London was now commenced in good earnest. Barking on the east, and the Palace of Westminster on the west, were the two stations occupied by his troops; and " catapult and balista cast their showers upon the dwellings; and the old Roman walls, ascribed to Julius Cæsar or to Constantine, shook before the repeated blows of the battering rams." But so strong was the city that it defied the attack; while the gallant troops within-side-not only the citizens, but "those men of renown, the northern thanes, the men of AngloDanish race"-would not speak of surrender. But William had other means at hand: he seems to have been ere long convinced that intrigue would answer better than open warfare; so he entered into negotiation with a citizen of great influence, one Ansgard, who, with fair words and fairer promises, so urged upon the fathers of the city the ills that would arise from an infant ruler, and the necessity of the supreme power being in the 66 are hands of one, "wise as Solomon, bounti- | his gifts, or the terror excited by his ful as Charlemagne, ready in fight as the power," was the motive of this appargreat Alexander," that all opposition ently most unworthy and slavish request. was withdrawn. Edwin and Morcar "Yet," asks Sir Francis Palgrave, were among the first to give in their ad- such representations correct? do they hesion; Aldred, Archbishop of York, not rather exhibit the prepossession of and Wolfstan, Bishop of Worcester, fol- the modern writer than the facts and the lowed; while the deputation appointed feelings of the eleventh century?" and to bear their homage and the keys of the he proceeds very suggestively to point city to their Norman ruler, bore with out the absolute importance of "the them more important pledge than all sworn king, the anointed king, the crownbesides the little Atheling, who had ed king," in those days. been so lately recognized as their king. "Our feeling with regard to the royal auLondon, on the whole, did well by this thority is very different to that which then submission. William was evidently most prevailed. With us, royalty is the realization anxious to obtain possession of the chief of a theory, with the Anglo-Saxons, royalty Mercian city; and he forthwith granted was a necessity. Without a king, the body that precious charter, so short but so politic was paralyzed. .. Rarely deleComprehensive-that little slip of parch-gating his powers to others, no veil of eti ment, which, "still perfect as on the day when the pen passed upon it, can lie within the palm of your hand, but contains within its brief compass all that the citizens could or can require." How few of the inhabitants of London are aware, that "they alone, of all the burgher communities in England, nay, of all the municipalities in Christendom," have retained until the present day all the rights and all the freedom which William the Conqueror secured to them eight hundred years ago! William, indeed, on many occasions seems to have treated the Londoners with marked favor. forms and ceremonies concealed the sovereign quette, no train of attendants, no mist of from his people. His hall was open; the king presided in his own court, listened to the complaints of his people, on the throne, at the gate, beneath the tree, commanded his own soldiers, pronounced sentence on the traitor, spoke out his favors, invested his prelates, opened his own purse with his own hands. All the active powers of the Com monwealth sprang from the very person of the king, as the visible centre of unity, the centre around which every sphere revolved. The closest approximation to the condition of the Anglo-Saxon commonwealth wanting a king, may be attained by considerEvening what would have been the state of England, if, upon the abdication of James, Wilsession of the throne; and Parliament repuliam of Orange had not proceeded to take posdiating the Stuarts yet not daring to supply the royal authority by any power of their own, or by any fiction of law, an absolute interregnum had ensued. What then would have been the state of England? All the branches of public and national administration and jurisdiction would have come to an end. It is well known how strongly the feeling in favor of a king prevailed in England during the Commonwealth and Protectorate, and how much they contributed towards the restoration of the monarchy. Had Cromwell boldly acceded to the humble petition and advice, England would never have seen Charles Stuart on the throne. ate was the opinion, that no republican lawyer, Daniel Axtell himself, could ever well understand how it was possible to arrest John Doe unless by the king's writ of capias, or to imprison the petty larcener unless the offence was duly laid in the indictment, as a breach of the king's peace and against his crown and dignity." when building the Tower of London, "it is remarkable that, yielding either to respect for the rights of that powerful and unruly and jealous community, or to apprehension of the indignation which he might excite by their infringement, he encroached as little as possible upon the city ground;" and thus, while on the Middlesex side the authority of the royal constable extended over all the adjoining hamlets, his jurisdiction on the city side does not extend beyond the very gates. The Castle of Falaise, where William was born, was, it appears, the model for the White Tower, the only portion of the structure which was erected in his time. Wessex was now subdued, Mercia, in the name of her chief city, had proffered fealty it remained now but for William to be crowned to become de jure Edward the Confessor's successor. This recommendation certainly proceeded first from his Saxon subjects, and it has been questioned whether "the corruption of So innate and inveter But more important still, the Anglo Saxon king, like all his successors, was a responsible functionary." No notion had our Saxon forefathers of "the right divine of kings;" and thus in calling upon William to take the crown, they actually called upon him to pledge himself that he would rule according to the established laws of the kingdom-in effect, to exchange his position as the victor of Hastings, for that of the monarch sworn on the Holy Gospels, "to hold true peace, and forbid stoutrife and injustice to all." William, it is said, hesitated; if so, it was merely after the "nolo episcopari" form, for his hesitation soon gave way. His Norman barons vehemently urged him, for shrewd reasoners were they. William had promised them land and fee in England. "If he made his grants to them without any definition of his own authority, without any certain law, they would have no law to defend them. Duke William was almost a despot in Normandy; what would he be if ruling as victor in England?" The coronation took place at Christmas, the same year, in the Abbey of Westminster. Aldred, Archbishop of York, performed the office; but when presenting William to the multitude, and asking them, in their own English tongue, after the customary form, if they acknowledged him as their king, loud shouts burst forth. The Norman soldiery withoutside, ignorant of their import, or purposely misconstruing them, assumed they were the tokens of insurrection, and fired the adjoining buildings. The flames were quickly seen within the Abbey; the crowd rushed out; but still, amidst this alarm the service proceeded. William was anointed with the holy oil, he kissed the golden cross, and laid his hand on the gospel book-that very book which may still be seen in the British Museum; but it was with a faltering voice he pronounced the threefold oath, for "William himself, who never before had known apprehension, now trembled with very fear; and thus was the diadem placed upon his head by Aldred. The victor of Hastings was agued with terror when receiving his prize." We have no account of a coronation feast, for William seems to have quitted Westminster at once for Barking; and there, pursuing "the tall deer" in the wide forest of Essex, and in superintend ing the foundations of the Tower, he sought to forget the evil omen that had accompanied his recognition as king. But the tale spread through the length and breadth of the land, and deep were the curses breathed against Norman fraud and cruelty, and stern were the vows of revenge. The unhappy mischance was accepted as a prophecy of evil, and "it was permitted to work its accomplishment." But William had other anxieties. His rapacious followers had been promised lands or gifts; but how should he reward them all? He was not now the successful invader, able to divide the conquered land at his will, but the king of the land, sworn to do justice, and to see justice done. And then Denmark had sent a message of defiance, bidding him do homage for his lately - gained kingdom; and well did he know that all along the eastern coast there was a Danish population ready to take part with the invaders, while even in the midland counties few of the cities had proffered even a reluctant submission. Truly William, even thus early, was doomed to pay the penalty of his ambition. Quickly perceiving that want of ener gy had been the fatal error of the AngloSaxon kings, William determined to show his new subjects the benefits of a vigorous rule. He, therefore, in the spring, made his first progress," extending from Oxford to the Humber, but yet including large districts which retained a species of virtual independence; " and all along his line of march his soldiery were restrained from all violence-not even food being allowed to be taken from the householders against their will. All law-breakers were sternly dealt with, robbers especially; and according to the testimony of the Saxons themselves, the Watling street and Ikenild street could offer the same security as that enjoyed by the mythic Irish damsel, when, with gems "rich and rare," and a bright gold ring, she journeyed safely along. William, at the same time, began the custom of celebrating the three great church festivals in the three chief cities of his threefold kingdom, Wessex, Mercia, and Danelagh, and of then solemnly wearing his crown." Nor was this a mere matter of state, for, according to the Anglo-Saxon constitution, all remedial jurisdiction was annexed to the person of the king. Thus |