to a single effort of despair.  When the armies, charged with the decision of so mighty a contest, had approached each other, Harold paused awhile.  A great deal depended on his conduct at this critical time.  The most experienced in the council of war, who knew the condition of their troops, were of opinion that the engagement ought to be deferred,—­that the country ought to be wasted,—­that, as the winter approached, the Normans would in all probability be obliged to retire of themselves,—­that, if this should not happen, the Norman army was without resources, whilst the English would be every day considerably augmented, and might attack their enemy at a time and manner which might make their success certain.  To all these reasons nothing was opposed but a false point of honor and a mistaken courage in Harold, who urged his fate, and resolved on an engagement.  The Norman, as soon as he perceived that the English, were determined on a battle, left his camp to post himself in an advantageous situation, in which his whole army remained the night which preceded the action.

This night was spent in a manner which prognosticated the event of the following day.  On the part of the Normans it was spent in prayer, and in a cool and steady preparation for the engagement; on the side of the English, in riot and a vain confidence that neglected all the necessary preparations.  The two armies met in the morning; from seven to five the battle was fought with equal vigor, until at last the Norman army pretending to break in confusion, a stratagem to which they had been regularly formed, the English, elated with success, suffered that firm order in which their security consisted to dissipate, which when William observed, he gave the signal to his men to regain their former disposition, and fall upon the English, broken and dispersed.  Harold in this emergency did everything which became him, everything possible to collect his troops and to renew the engagement; but whilst he flew from place to place, and in all places restored the battle, an arrow pierced his brain, and he died a king, in a manner worthy of a warrior.  The English immediately fled; the rout was total, and the slaughter prodigious.

The consternation which this defeat and the death of Harold produced over the kingdom was more fatal than the defeat itself.  If William had marched directly to London, all contest had probably been at an end; but he judged it more prudent to secure the sea-coast, to make way for reinforcements, distrusting his fortune in his success more than he had done in his first attempts.  He marched to Dover, where the effect of his victory was such that the strong castle there surrendered without resistance.  Had this fortress made any tolerable defence, the English would have had leisure to rouse from their consternation, and plan some rational method for continuing the war; but now the conqueror was on full march to London, whilst the English were debating concerning the measures