[127]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.) To a total want of eloquence he joined the most inveterate habit of stammering, so that, when angry, he could barely speak. His physical appearance, too, well harmonized with his moral and mental deformities. His description reads rather like that of a fiend than of a man. Possessing enormous strength, he was small, thick-set, and ill-shaped, having a large stomach. His face was redder than his hair, and his eyes of two different colours. His vices were, in fact, branded on his face. (Malmesbury, Ed. Hardy, tom. ii., lib. iv., sect. 321, p. 504, whom I have literally translated.)