Page:St. Nicholas, vol. 40.1 (1912-1913).djvu/676



BY HILDEGARDE HAWTHORNE

makes one of his characters say that “there ’s nothing good or ill, but thinking makes it so.” At any rate, it has often happened in this world that one and the same man, judged from different standpoints, appears either as a villain or a hero. Each of these views will be quite sincere, and probably, to a certain degree, each will hold something of the truth. A man who does a good deal in the world and is conspicuous in men’s eyes, is particularly apt to arouse an extraordinary variety of comment and opinion; often it is difficult to get a clear idea of what he really was, so much has been asserted and contradicted regarding him, and, like, or , the more that is printed, the greater grows the tangle. At other times, as with our, the adverse voices die away into eternal silence, once party bitterness and private envy are dead, leaving the hero unharmed.

Back in the old times, where our story of England’s adventures begins, this was as true as it is to-day. And you get the clearest possible idea of these opposing points of view regarding the same man in the two books, “,” by Bulwer Lytton, and “,” by Charles Kingsley. In the first volume, Harold is shown in his hero aspect, as he was in the eyes of the men and women who loved him, and believed in him, and died for him. In the second story, we see Harold through the grim regard of his hereditary foes, the and the men of the, descendants of the wild Danes who had settled years before in England. Naturally, this double picture is an interesting thing, and one gets a far more complete notion of the state of things in those old days than either book could give alone.

In “Harold,” we are given more of the condition of affairs in England, especially in and around London, and of the direct conflict between the incoming Norman and the stubborn, yet gradually overborne, Saxon. himself is wonderfully portrayed. A giant in form, scheming and fierce of spirit, his influence on, a gentle, devout soul, to whom the duties of his kingly state were painful and oppressive, was excessive. He meant to have England from the first moment his eyes looked on her; Edward’s consent was, however, not enough for the Saxons were hardly the men to bow to the will of a weak king. With Edward, half-Norman, gone to his account, they rallied round their Saxon, and made him their king.

What he does, his love-story with the beautifu1 —called the “Fair” and the “Swan-necked”—and all the sad ending of the Saxon hope. Bulwer tells with the color, romance, and spirit that mark his historical novels. Not only the battles, but the home life, the love of brothers and sisters, the hunting and the feasting, are given to us with vivid touches. We ache in sympathy for Harold and for Edith, kept apart but loving so deeply and vainly. Fate is cruel to them both, but glorious is their story, and your hearts will beat with a martial joy as you read it, for there was nothing weak or cowardly or mean in the life or death of these ancient forerunners of our race.

You may be surprised, as you read, to find how much culture and luxury there was in those days, particularly among the Normans, whose manners and furnishings were being copied by the English nobility with a slavishness that aroused the wrath of the country at large. Harold goes to visit William at his court in, where he is impressed by the beauty, grace, and charm of the foreign life—and where much happens, and the tragedy begins, if, indeed, it had not begun long before.

If you want an exciting scene, read in this book how Harold withstood the Norman archers, including the giant William, unprotected save for his shield, and then how he swung his battle-ax, an ax that had come to him from. This was only in play—the time came when it was repeated in earnest, in the terrible battle of Hastings; and then it was William who won.

And afterward, in the silent night among the heaped-up dead, Edith, the Swan-necked, seeks for her hero and beloved, and finds him at last, and dies on his heart with a smile of joy, for they will be separated no more. And therewith the book ends.

But in “Hereward,” the is only an incident. For seven long years thereafter, the men of The withstood the Norman conqueror, until Hereward, too, and many with