The facts are few as they have come down to us. But we can learn something about the man. He was, to begin with, a visionary; now it is out of visionaries that martyrs, confessors, and enthusiasts are made. I know that he was a visionary from a little story related of him. He was one of those who took the cross and the vow when King Richard went on his crusade, and sailed in the fleet which contained the London and the Dartmouth Crusaders whose intention was to fight the Infidels. This fact points in the direction of an emotional temperament easily moved to enthusiasm. The fleet was becalmed in the Bay of Biscay. Thereupon, William FitzOsbert, with one Geoffrey, a goldsmith, prayed to St. Thomas à Becket—the newly canonised saint—already considered as the natural protector of London. St. Thomas, to the eyes of faith, answered their prayers in person. He appeared to them. He bade them be of good cheer; he promised a favourable breeze in the morning, after which they should accomplish their vows and return in safety. It must have been a visionary who would actually see the saint and receive his message. In the morning the promised breeze sprang up; the ships proceeded on their course and put in at a Portuguese port. Here they learned that the King of Portugal was in dire straits, being besieged by the Moors with a vast army. The Crusaders resolved upon going to his assistance; among them marched William FitzOsbert, rejoicing in the promise made him by St. Thomas à Becket, that he should perform his vows and should return. In these days he would have said that St. Thomas had need of him in his native town. The Moors being defeated, the London Crusaders thought they had done their duty in fighting the Infidel, and so returned home. After this crusade, William made the discovery above described. Now he was not of obscure birth, because he belonged to one of the great City families; his grandfather had been an Alderman, probably his father as well; he was a scholar—one Chronicler calls him a lawyer; he was a man of eloquence; he could persuade and carry with him the rude craftsmen of London, whom he gathered together at Paul’s Cross in the name of the old Folk Mote. He found out irregularities of all kinds on the part of the governing class. When there was neither audit nor scrutiny, irregularities were inevitable. He imparted these discoveries to the King, who listened with attention, and doubtless communicated his views on the subject to the Archbishop of Canterbury, then justiciary. It may be understood, also, that his communications rendered him peculiarly hateful to his own class, the governing body, whom he had deserted. His nickname, Longbeard, denotes his desertion of that class, which affected Norman customs, and either wore no beard or a very small beard. He himself went back to the old Saxon custom, which seems to have been retained by the craftsmen, and grew a long beard.