=Source.=--William of Malmesbury, _De gestis regum Anglorum_, ed.
Stubbs, vol. ii., pp. 359, 366, 368. (Rolls Series.)
William the son of William was born in Normandy many years before his
father came to England. He was brought up by his parents with great
care, and, since he was endowed by nature with a mind fertile in great
schemes, he climbed to the utmost summit of honour. He would have been
without doubt a prince incomparable in our time, had not his father’s
greatness eclipsed him, and had not destiny cut him off ere his prime,
before riper years might correct faults which sprang from the licence
of power and the rashness of youth. After his childhood, his early
years were spent in military pursuits, in riding, in throwing the
spear, in contending with his elders in service, and with those of his
own age in duty. He counted it a reproach to his courage if another
took arms before him in warfare, or if he were not the first to
challenge the enemy, or, if challenged, to overthrow him. Loyal to his
father in all things, he fought before his eyes in battle and stayed at
his side in time of peace. With a gradually widening ambition, he was
now eager to succeed to the throne, especially after the renunciation
of his elder brother, though he was not without suspicion of his
untried younger brother. So when his father, lying in his last illness,
adopted him as his successor, he went in haste to take possession of
the realm, before the king had breathed his last; and soon after was
gladly received by the people and secured the keys of the treasury, by
means whereof he subjected the whole of England to his will. Archbishop
Lanfranc, the greatest power of the state, declared in favour of him,
because he had educated him and made him a knight....
He was endowed with a high generosity of soul, which in the course of
time was obscured by an excessive harshness, and vices crept into his
heart in place of virtues so insensibly as to escape observation. For a
long time men were in doubt whither his nature would carry and incline
him. At first, during the life of archbishop Lanfranc, he shrank from
any kind of crime, so that men hoped he would prove an unexampled
mirror of royalty; and after Lanfranc’s death, he wavered for a time,
poised between good and evil courses; but at length, in his last years,
desire for good froze in him, and a crop of ills grew and ripened; his
generosity became prodigality, his large-heartedness became pride, his
severity became brutality.... Abroad and at gatherings of men he stood
high and proud of aspect, fixing a threatening eye on bystanders, and
repelling those who spoke with him with an assumed severity and fierce
tones; as may be guessed, a fear of inadequate supplies and of others’
treachery made him unduly rapacious and stern. In private and at table
with friends he was altogether easy and genial and full of jest. He was
the wittiest of commentators on his own misdeeds, and strove to rid
himself of the odium by an epigram....
He had no conception of making a bargain or valuing wares, and a
trader could unload his goods on him at any price, and a soldier demand
any pay. He wished the price of his clothes to be extravagant, and was
disdainful of cheapness. One morning, when he was putting on new boots,
he asked the chamberlain how much they had cost, and when he replied
“Three shillings,” he shouted indignantly and angrily, “Bastard! how
long has the king worn boots at that mean price? go and fetch me a pair
worth a mark of silver.” He went, and bringing a much cheaper pair
falsely said that they had cost as much as the king had commanded.
“Ah!” said the king, “those are fit for the royal majesty.” So the
chamberlain used afterwards to charge him what he pleased for his
clothes, and bought many a thing for his own benefit.