Note 127 — Chapter IX · MINESTEAD AND RUFUS’S STONE.

As I am not writing a History of England during this period, my space will not permit me to enter into those details which, when viewed collectively, carry so much weight in an argument; but at all events, it will be well for some of my readers to bear in mind the character of William II., who in a recent work has lately been elevated into a hero. Without any of his father’s ability or power of statesmanship, he inherited all his vices, which he so improved that they became rather his own. From having no occupation for his mind, he sank more and more into licentiousness and lust. (“Omni se immunditiâ deturpabat,” is the strong expression of John of Salisbury. Life of Anselm, part ii. ch. vii., in Wharton’s Anglia Sacra, tom. ii. p. 163. See, also, Suger, Vita Lud. Grossi Regis, cap. i., in Bouquet: Recueil des Historiens des Gaules et de la France, tom. xii. p. 12. D. E.) Being lustful, he naturally became cruel; not as his father was, on, at least, the plea of necessity, but that he might enjoy a cultivated pleasure in gloating over the sufferings of others. From being cruel, too, he became, in its worst sense, an infidel; not from any pious scruple or deep conviction, but simply that he might indulge his passions. (See that fearful story of the trial of forty Englishmen told in Eadmer: Hist. Nov., lib. ii., p. 48, Ed. 1633, which illustrates in a twofold manner both his cruelty and his atheism.)