"
Harold put down the letter with a sigh. But he had little time to lament
over private troubles. The king was ill; he had not rallied from the state
of prostration that succeeded his outburst of passion when he found himself
powerless to put down the Northern insurrection by force, and to restore
his favourite Tostig to his earldom. Day succeeded day, but he did not
rally. In vain the monks most famous for their skill in medicine came from
Canterbury and Glastonbury; in vain prayers were offered up in all the
cathedrals, and especially in his own Abbey of Westminster, and soon the
report spread among the people that Edward, the king, was sick unto death,
and all felt that it was a misfortune for England.
Edward was in no sense of the word a great king. He was a monk rather than
a monarch. The greatest object of his life had been to rear an abbey that
in point of magnificence should rival the stateliest fane in England. To
that his chief care was devoted, and for many years he was well content to
leave the care of government to Harold. But after the monarchs who had
immediately preceded him, his merits, if of a passive kind, were warmly
appreciated by his subjects. His rule had been free from oppression, and he
had always desired that justice should be done to all. In the earlier part
of his reign he was Norman in tongue, in heart, and in education; but in
the latter years of his life he had become far more English in his
leanings, and there can be no doubt that he bitterly regretted the promise
he had rashly given to William of Normandy that he should succeed him.
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