[Sidenote: Edward, A.D. 975.]
[Sidenote: Ethelred, A.D. 979.]
Edgar had two wives, Elfleda and Elfrida. By the first he had a son called Edward; the second bore him one called Ethelred. On Edgar’s death, Edward, in the usual order of succession, was called to the throne; but Elfrida caballed in favor of her son, and finding it impossible to set him up in the life of his brother, she murdered him with her own hands in her castle of Corfe, whither he had retired to refresh himself, wearied with hunting. Ethelred, who by the crimes of his mother ascended a throne sprinkled with his brother’s blood, had a part to act which exceeded the capacity that could be expected in one of his youth and inexperience. The partisans of the secular clergy, who were kept down by the vigor of Edgar’s government, thought this a fit time to renew their pretensions. The monks defended themselves in their possession; there was no moderation on either side, and the whole nation joined in these parties. The murder of Edward threw an odious stain on the king, though he was wholly innocent of that crime. There was a general discontent, and every corner was full of murmurs and cabals. In this state of the kingdom, it was equally dangerous to exert the fulness of the sovereign authority or to suffer it to relax. The temper of the king was most inclined to the latter method, which is of all things the worst. A weak government, too easy, suffers evils to grow which often make the most rigorous and illegal proceedings necessary. Through an extreme lenity it is on some occasions tyrannical. This was the condition of Ethelred’s nobility, who, by being permitted everything, were never contented.