CHAPTER XX

CHARLES THE GREAT—EARLY YEARS 768-785—CONQUEST OF LOMBARDY AND SAXONY.

Charles and Carloman—Final conquest of Aquitaine—Death of

Carloman—Character and habits of Charles—State of the Frankish

Empire—Charles interferes in Italy on behalf of the Pope—He subdues

the Lombard monarchy—His later expeditions into Italy—First conquest

of Saxony—Expedition to Spain—Rebellions of Saxony followed by its

reconquest and permanent subjection.

The moment that king Pippin had been laid beneath his marble slab near

the high altar of St. Denis, his two sons drew apart, and after retiring

a few leagues from the place of their father’s death hastily had

themselves saluted as kings by their counts and dukes, and anointed by

their bishops—Charles at Noyon, Carloman at Soissons (Oct. 9th, 768).

Now for the second time it appeared likely that the greatness of the

house of St. Arnulf might be wrecked by the old and evil Frankish custom

which prescribed the division of the kingdom among the sons of the king.

How that custom had worked under the Merovings we have already seen. At

the death of Charles Martel it had already threatened to break up the

power of his house, a danger which was only averted by the unexpected

abdication of the elder Carloman. Untaught by the experience of his own

youth Pippin the Short had committed the same mistake: old habit was too

much for him. On his deathbed, as we have seen, he divided his realm

between his two sons. He had, however, done his best to leave his

first-born so superior in strength to his brother, that the younger king

should not be able to compete with him. [Sidenote: Joint rule of Charles

and Carloman. 768-72.] Charles was left the warlike half of the kingdom,

all those Frankish lands, both Austrasian and Neustrian, from the Main

to the Channel, which supplied the chief fighting element in the

Frankish armies. In addition he obtained the western half of the

newly-conquered Aquitaine. Carloman’s share consisted of Burgundy, the

Suabian lands on both sides of the upper Rhine, and the whole

Mediterranean coast from the Maritime Alps to the border of Spain—the

old Provincia and Septimania. Moreover, he took the eastern half of

Aquitaine,—the country about Clermont, Rodez, Albi, and Toulouse. Though

well-nigh as large as the share of Charles, his kingdom was not nearly

so powerful, for the king who could command the swords of the Franks was

the one who could give law to the whole realm.

For reasons which we know not, Charles and Carloman had never been

friendly—perhaps the younger son as born after his father’s coronation

may have claimed some precedence over the elder, who was the son merely

of a Mayor of the Palace. We know at any rate that throughout the three

years of their joint reign they were always on the edge of a quarrel.

Nothing but the influence and advice of their worthy mother Bertha kept

them from an open rupture. Luckily for the realm both were good sons,

and listened to the maternal pleadings: still more luckily for the

Franks the life of the younger king was destined to be a short one. If

Carloman had been granted many days on earth, we may be sure that the

history of the last quarter of the ninth century would have repeated the

old fratricidal wars of the Merovings. The historians who wrote the life

of the great Charles are never tired of insisting on the many

provocations which his brother gave him. If Carloman had chanced to find

an apologist we might perhaps have learnt that Charles also gave

subjects for offence.

The commencement of the joint reign of the two kings was followed by the

prompt revolt of the newly subdued Aquitaine. Duke Waifer, the leader of

the Southerners in their long war with Pippin, being dead, his old

father Hunold emerged from his monastery to put himself at the head of

the insurrection. [Sidenote: Charles subdues Aquitaine 769.] The country

as far north as Angoulême—which was kept down by a Frankish garrison—at

once fell away to him, for the Gascons trusted that the two jealous

brothers would be too much occupied with their grievances against each

other to spare time for the reconquest of the south. Charles immediately

marched against the rebels, and invited Carloman to accompany him: the

younger king appeared for a moment, but only to hold an angry colloquy

with his senior and then to return to Burgundy. He did not, however,

take the opportunity to attack Charles, and the latter was able to

pursue, unaided but also unhindered, his campaign against the

Aquitanians. It was completely successful: he forced his way in arms as

far as Bordeaux, built a great fortified camp at Fronsac, which was

destined to remain as the central stronghold of the Garonne for many

generations, and so thoroughly beat Hunold that the old man fled for

refuge to Lupus, duke of the Gascons. But Lupus fearing the wrath of

Charles submitted to the conqueror, surrendered the fugitive, and asked

and obtained peace. Charles went home in triumph, replaced Hunold in a

cloister, and was henceforth undisputably king in Aquitaine. He divided

the country into countships on the usual Frankish system, and placed

these provinces in the hands not of natives, but of men from north of

the Loire whose fidelity he could trust. For the future Aquitaine gave

no trouble.

In spite of Carloman’s denial of help during the war in the south,

Charles was ere long persuaded by his mother to be reconciled to his

brother. But he took measures to keep him in check for the future by

making alliance with the neighbours of Carloman to north and south. He

concluded a treaty with Tassilo, duke of Bavaria, whose dependence on

the Frankish realm had of late grown very loose, and allied himself yet

more closely with Desiderius, the king of the Lombards, by wedding his

daughter Desiderata. This marriage was concluded in spite of the most

undignified shrieks of wrath on the part of the Pope, who besought

Charles ‘not to mix the famous Frankish blood with the perfidious, foul,

and leprous Lombard stock—a truly diabolical coupling, which no true man

could call a marriage.’ The Papacy had learnt so well how to utilise the

distant monarch of the Gauls against the neighbouring lord of Pavia,

that Stephen III. looked upon an alliance between Frank and Lombard as

high treason against the Holy See. The marriage, however, was

consummated in spite of Stephen’s threats, whereupon, with more prudence

than consistency, he suddenly forgot his fundamental objections to the

Lombard race, and made his peace with king Desiderius, lest he should be

left unaided to feel the weight of the Lombard arm.

Within a year, however, Charles suddenly repudiated his wife, alleging

that she was sickly and barren. Whether this was his real motive, or

whether political causes also influenced his action, we cannot tell; but

as Charles wedded immediately after his divorce a fair Suabian lady,

named Hildegarde, we may suspect that his motives were possibly those

which guided Henry VIII. of England in a similar circumstance. Be this

as it may, he won by this divorce the unrelenting and not unjustifiable

hatred of Desiderata’s father, the king of the Lombards. Trouble was

soon in the air. There was again a rumour that war was about to break

out between Charles and Carloman, in which Desiderius would have taken

part. [Sidenote: Death of Carloman.] Just in time to prevent such an

outbreak, king Carloman died (December 771). He left an infant son, but

the nobles and bishops of Burgundy and Alamannia made no attempt to set

the child on his father’s throne. Wisely suppressing any particularist

yearnings, they betook themselves to Charles at Corbeny-sur-Aisne, and

there did homage to him as king of all the Frankish realms. Gerberga,

the widow of Carloman, fled with her child and a handful of followers to

Lombardy, where Desiderius was now in a state of mind which made him

glad to receive any enemy of Charles’s, and more especially one who had

such a plausible claim to a share in the Frankish kingdom.

Once more, then, all the lands between the mouth of the Rhine and the

mouth of the Rhone, and from the Main to the Bay of Biscay, were united

under a single king. [Sidenote: Character of Charles.] And this was a

king such as none of those realms had ever seen before—a heroic figure,

whose like we have not met in all the three centuries with which we have

had to deal. Theodoric the Ostrogoth alone deserves a mention by his

side, and Theodoric had a smaller task and less success than the great

Charles. For the first time since we began to tell the tale of the Dark

Ages we have come upon a man whose form and mind, whose plans and method

of life, have been so well recorded that we can build up for ourselves a

clear and tangible image of him. Charles the Hammer, king Pippin, Leo

the Isaurian, and even the good Theodoric himself, are but shadowy

figures, whose outlines we can but dimly seize, but Charles stands

before us firm and masterful, a living man, whom we can understand and

admire.

[Sidenote: Charles’s person and habits.] ‘He was tall and stoutly

built,’ writes his chronicler, Einhard; ‘his height just seven times the

length of his own foot. His head was round, his eyes large and lively,

his nose somewhat above the common size, his expression bright and

cheerful. Whether he stood or sat his form was full of dignity; for the

good proportion and grace of his body prevented the observer from

noticing that his neck was rather short and his person rather too

fleshy. His tread was firm, his aspect manly; his voice was clear, but

rather high-pitched for so splendid a body. His health was excellent;

only for the last four years of his life he suffered from intermittent

fever. To the very last he consulted his own goodwill rather than the

orders of his doctors, whom he detested, because they bade him give up

the roast meats that his soul loved.’

Charles was always of an active habit of body. He delighted in riding

and hunting, and was skilled in swimming above other men. One of the

chief reasons that induced him to make Aachen his capital was that he

loved to take his sport in the great swimming-bath that was supplied by

its hot springs.

He always used the Frankish costume, and loved not foreign apparel. Next

his skin he wore a linen shirt and drawers, over these a woollen tunic,

with a silk border, and breeches. He wrapped his calves and feet with

the linen bandages that were worn ere stockings were invented, and drew

high boots over them. In winter he wore a coat of the fur of otter or

ermine, and over that a bright blue cloak. A sword with a golden hilt

was always at his side. On great days of state he assumed a tunic and

cloak embroidered with gold and clasped with gold buckles, girt his head

with a jewelled crown, and carried a sword with a jewelled hilt. But for

every-day wear his clothes were not more splendid than those of his

courtiers.

He was temperate in food and drink, more, however, in drink than in

food. No one ever saw him drink more than three cups at his dinner, and

he hated drunkenness, and chastised it among his suite. But eating he

loved in moderation, and would often say that church fasts were bad for

his health. There were never more than four dishes on his table, besides

a roast, which was brought him hot from the kitchen on its spit, and

this was his favourite food.

At dinner he used to listen to a reciter or a reader. He loved histories

and tales of the ancients, and also the works of St. Augustine, whose

_De Civitate Dei_ delighted him especially. He caused to be written out

and committed to memory the ancient Frankish epics about the deeds and

wars of the kings of old. He himself was well skilled in reading aloud

and singing to the harp, and took much pains in instructing others in

those accomplishments. All the liberal arts were dear to him, and he

loved learned men, and summoned them from all quarters of the world. To

study grammar he sent for the deacon Peter of Pisa. In most other arts

he had as his preceptor Alcuin, the Englishman, the most learned of all

men, with whom he studied rhetoric and dialectic, and spent much time in

acquiring a knowledge of astronomy; for he was curious about the times

and motions of the stars. He invented German names for the twelve months

of the year, and the twelve winds. He tried, too, to learn the art of

the scribe,[48] and used to keep paper and notebooks under his pillow in

bed, to practise his fingers at odd moments in forming the characters;

but he began too late in life to get very forward in this undertaking.

Moreover, he loved building, and designed the splendid cathedral of

Aachen, glorious with lamps and candlesticks of gold and silver, and

doors and railings of solid bronze. When he was erecting it, and could

not get marble columns near at hand, he had them brought all the way

from Ravenna and Rome. He was a great churchgoer, and always took care

that the service in his presence should be conducted with decorum. He

used to pray both in Frankish and in Latin, being equally skilled in

both tongues. For he had a great power of acquiring languages, and spoke

Latin excellently. Greek he learnt, but understood it better than he

spoke it. He had a free and fluent power of speech, and always expressed

his meaning in the clearest way.

Footnote 48:

We know that he could at least sign his name.

He slept lightly, and would often rise three or four times in the night.

When he was dressing for the work of the morning he would have not only

his friends in his chamber, but would bid the count of the palace bring

in litigants before him, and give a decision from his chair just as if

he was in a court of law.

Charles had one lamentable failing—he was too careless of the teachings

of Christianity about the relation of the sexes. He divorced his first

wife over-lightly, and when his third wife died he took to himself three

concubines at once, who bore him many bastard children. There were

scandals at his court, and two of his own daughters were known to be

living in open sin with two of his courtiers. Charles treated their

offence lightly, and never visited them with any rebuke. Not so his son,

Lewis the Pious, who regarded his sisters’ shame as so heinous that he

banished them when he came to the throne. It was the shortcomings of the

great king in respect of sexual morality which prevented the Church from

decreeing the beatification of its protector after his death. The spirit

of the times was well shown by the strange vision of the monk Wettin of

Reichenau, who, falling into a trance and wandering through the other

world, saw Charles in Purgatory, kept in purifying flames for a space,

till this sin should be purged from his soul.

So much do the chronicles tell us concerning the person and the manner

of life of Charles the Great; but there are other points which impress

us more than they did the contemporary observer. Considering that he was

so far in advance of his age in the cultivation of literature, art,

science, and architecture, that in administration and organisation of

his realm he so far surpassed all that had lived before him, and that he

rose in most of his conduct to such a high conception, alike of his

kingly office and of his personal responsibility for all his actions, it

is disappointing, though not surprising, to find that in some matters he

was not above the standard of his time. We have already alluded to his

loose living, but a worse failing was his occasional liability to

outbursts of inhumanity. The most savage of them was his massacre of

4500 unarmed prisoners of war at Verden, in 782. If the majority of his

wars were defensive, or at least necessary, there were a few—notably the

Lombard war—in which aggressive ambition was the main operating cause,

but this was a small failing in the unscrupulous eighth century. On the

whole we stand amazed at the magnanimity of the man, and are so much

struck with his splendid qualities, that we are perhaps in danger of

doing him wrong by judging him from our own moral standpoint. He rises

so far above that of the Dark Ages, that it scarcely occurs to the

historian to judge him by their low standard. Yet it is by remembering

what was the spirit of those times that his greatness is most readily

recognised.

We shall have to deal with Charles in three main aspects, as conqueror,

as organiser, and as the introducer of new theories of political life

into the mind of Christendom. It is difficult to keep the three lines of

activity clearly separate; for all through his reign, from first to

last, Charles was equally busy in each of these capacities. To make

clear the logical sequence of his doings it is sometimes necessary to

override their chronological order.

[Sidenote: Conquests of Charles.] At the first glance the most

extraordinary of the achievements of Charles appear to be his huge

additions to the territory of the Frankish realm by the annexation of

the Lombard kingdom, the Spanish march, Saxony, and the Slavonic lands

of the Elbe and the Drave to the inheritance that he had been left by

his father. These conquests represent a plan of operations deliberately

undertaken, carried out with an unswerving hand, and brought to a

successful finish. Charles had inherited from his father and grandfather

the duty, which they had undertaken, of protecting Christian Europe from

the Saracen, the Slav, and the heathen Saxon, the three enemies whom his

ancestors had driven back, but had not crushed. Closely connected with

this duty was the obligation to convert to Christianity the new subjects

whom he might subdue, to deal with Saxon and Slav as Charles Martel had

already dealt with Frisian and Thuringian, and so to push the outer

defences of Christendom into those parts of central Europe which had

hitherto been sunk in savagery and paganism. The Saracen alone it was

impossible to convert. He might be expelled, but then, as now, it was

found easier to exterminate the Moslem than to make him abandon Islam.

To these altogether useful and salutary tasks, which Charles inherited

from the great Mayors of the Palace, another was added, the less happy

plan of cementing a close union with the Papacy by crushing the nation

of the Lombards. Pippin had committed the Franks to this scheme, and

Charles did but carry out his father’s pledges. But by his action he

destroyed a healthy and vigorous Christian state, the possible base for

a strong Italian nationality, and committed the Frankish kingdom to a

profitless union, which was to bring forth seven centuries of discord.

What was worst of all, he firmly established the temporal power of the

Papacy, a curse to blast Italy for a thousand years. The gains which he

received in return,—the religious sanction bestowed on his royal power

by the Pope, and the imperial title, were but doubtful boons. It was to

be seen, ere the ninth century had expired, that the house of St.

Arnulf, like all the dynasties that succeeded it, lost more than it

gained by putting itself under obligations to the Roman See, and

consenting to accept from the Pope’s hands the style of emperor, and the

vague commission to protect the unity of Christendom,—a commission which

to the Roman pontiff meant little more than the duty of giving the

Church all that she chose to crave.

[Sidenote: Limits of Charles’s realm.] Before proceeding to relate the

earlier conquests of Charles the Great, it is necessary to explain the

boundaries of his realm as it stood at the moment of the death of his

brother Carloman. In Germany the border to north and south was held by

the two vassal peoples of Frisia and Bavaria, both now Christian, and

both reduced during the last fifty years to a more strict obedience to

the Franks than they had ever known before, but still possessing their

own native rulers, and not completely united to the monarchy. East of

Frisia lay the Saxons, the race whom the Merovings, and the great mayors

who succeeded them, had alike failed to tame. After three hundred years

of hard fighting the boundary of the Frank and Saxon remained where it

had stood in the year 500. To the east of Saxony lay races hardly yet

known to the Franks, the Slavonic tribes of the Abotrites, Wiltzes, and

Sorbs.

The duchy of Bavaria had as its eastern neighbours another group of

Slavonic peoples, the races who had once formed the ephemeral kingdom of

Samo,[49] Czechs and Moravians on the upper Elbe, Carentanians on the

Drave. Beyond these Slavs lay the realm of the Avar Chagan, now in a

state of decadence owing both to civil wars and to rebellions of its

Slavonic subjects.

Footnote 49:

See p. 177.

Between Frisia and Bavaria the frontier of the realm of Charles was held

by the Thuringians, now no longer under the rule of native princes, but

divided up into Frankish counties, as the adjacent Suabia had also been,

and forming like Suabia an integral part of Charles’s monarchy. The

neighbours of the Thuringians beyond the border were the Slavonic Sorbs.

The south-east frontier of the Frankish empire was formed by the main

chain of the Alps, beyond which lay the Lombard realm of king

Desiderius. Its south-western limit was the main chain of the Pyrenees,

beyond which lay the Saracens of Spain, over whom at this moment

Abderahman the Ommeyad had just succeeded in establishing his power, and

had formed a state independent of the Abbaside caliphate (755).

Of all the neighbours of king Charles, it was Desiderius the Lombard who

was first destined to feel the weight of the Frankish sword. He had not

only received Carloman’s widow Gerberga, when she fled from Burgundy,

but had shown some intention of proclaiming her son king of the Franks.

Yet it was not this machination against Charles that was the actual

cause of war, but the relations of the Papacy with Desiderius. Hadrian

I. had just been raised to the Papal throne. He was a Roman by birth,

and a great hater of the Lombards. [Sidenote: Quarrel of the Pope and

the Lombards.] He refused the friendship and alliance which Desiderius

proffered, and very shortly after he was consecrated began to pick a

quarrel with the unfortunate king. He demanded from him the important

towns of Ferrara and Faenza, as part of the Exarchate of Ravenna. They

had been promised to St. Peter, he said, in 757, while Desiderius was

struggling for the crown with king Ratchis, and must be handed over at

once. Desiderius, thinking that Charles would be too much occupied

beyond the Alps in settling the newly-annexed dominions of his brother

to allow of his appearance in Italy, replied to the Pope’s challenge by

sending a host into the Pentapolis, and seizing Sinigaglia and Urbino.

Shortly afterwards he raised the full force of the Lombard realm, and

marched against Rome. Hadrian had expected this. He fortified and

strongly garrisoned the city, and sent in haste to bid the lord of the

Franks to come to the help of St. Peter, and force the unrighteous

Lombards to carry out in full the treaty that king Pippin had imposed

upon them. The news of the despatch of this embassy seems to have

frightened Desiderius. He drew back to Viterbo, and, instead of pressing

the siege of Rome, sent an embassy to Charles, to explain that the

Pope’s charges were unfounded, as he was not keeping back anything that

really belonged to the Exarchate (772, autumn).

Desiderius, when he first attacked Rome, was not wrong in thinking that

Charles was already occupied in the affairs of his own kingdom. He had

that summer commenced the great undertaking of the conquest of Saxony, a

task which was to tax his energies for the next twenty years. In the

summer of 772 he had entered the land, compelled the Mid-Saxons or

Engrians to give him hostages, and cut down in token of triumph the

Irminsul, a holy tree reverenced by all the Saxon tribes, which stood in

a grove near Paderborn, and was adorned with many rich offerings. On his

return to Austrasia, Charles met the ambassadors of Hadrian and

Desiderius at Thionville. He did not swerve for a moment from his

father’s policy of supporting the Papacy through thick and thin. He sent

off ambassadors to bid Desiderius give up all the cities belonging to

the Holy See that he was unlawfully occupying, and told him to do

justice to St. Peter without delay. [Sidenote: Charles invades Lombardy,

773.] The Lombard king was far too angry at this interference to grant

the Frank’s demands. He swore that he would restore nothing. This drew

down Charles into Italy. Marching from Geneva he crossed Mont Cenis with

one division of his army, while his uncle Bernard with the rest followed

the route of the Great St. Bernard. Desiderius on their approach

fortified the Alpine gorges by Susa and Ivrea, and stood upon the

defensive. But a chosen band of Franks turned his position at Susa by

climbing over the hills, and when he saw himself outflanked, the Lombard

king abandoned his lines, and fell back on Pavia, exactly as his

predecessor Aistulf had done in the war with king Pippin. Charles

followed in haste, and laid siege to Pavia, which held out for many

months. Meanwhile Adelchis, the son of Desiderius, raised a second

Lombard army, and took post in front of Verona. Leaving part of his army

to maintain the blockade of Pavia, Charles marched against Adelchis,

compelled him to fly, and captured Verona, and afterwards Brescia and

Bergamo. The Lombard prince took to the sea, and sought Constantinople,

where he endeavoured to obtain help from Constantine Copronymus, then in

the midst of his Bulgarian war.

[Sidenote: Charles at Rome, 774.] As king Desiderius held out in Pavia

with the greatest obstinacy, and the siege was protracted for many

months, Charles resolved to spend the spring of 774 in visiting Rome,

and coming to a complete understanding with pope Hadrian. He reached the

city in Holy Week, and celebrated the Easter festivities with great

splendour: his communings with Hadrian ended in his confirming his

father’s grant to the Papacy of the whole Exarchate of Ravenna, from

Ferrara and Commachio on the north, to Osimo on the south, including all

the places that had been in dispute between the Pope and the Lombard

king. Later Roman writers pretended that Charles had even increased

Pippin’s liberal gift by adding to it north Tuscany, Parma and Modena,

Venice, and even the island of Corsica. But there is no trace of this in

contemporary authorities: the Frank never made over to the Pope the

sovereignty of Tuscany or Æmilia, much less of Venice—which was not his

to give,—or the distant island of Corsica.

[Sidenote: Fall of Pavia, 774.] On returning from Rome to the valley of

the Po, in the early summer of 774, Charles found Pavia ready to submit:

Desiderius and his men of war were wasted by famine and opened the gates

on condition that their lives should be spared. The king was sent as a

prisoner to Neustria, and died many years after as a monk in the abbey

of Corbey. His royal treasure was divided among the Frankish army.

Adelchis, the heir of the Lombard throne, had, as we have already

mentioned, escaped to the Byzantine court, and died there many years

afterwards as a ‘patrician.’

Instead of following Pippin’s example, and allowing Lombardy to survive

as a vassal state, Charles had himself proclaimed as king in Italy, and

compelled all the Lombard dukes and counts to do homage to him at Pavia.

Only Arichis of Benevento, the son-in-law of Desiderius, persisted in

maintaining his independence. For the future Charles styled himself

‘King of the Franks and Lombards, and Roman Patrician.’ Except that he

left a garrison in the capital, and handed over some of the more

important Italian cities to Frankish counts instead of leaving them in

the hands of their old Lombard governors, he made little change in the

administration of Italy. His rights of conquest were used with such

moderation, that Italy gave him very little trouble for the rest of his

reign. [Sidenote: Later expedition to Italy.] The only serious

disturbance that took place was in 776, when the dukes of Friuli,

Spoleto, and Benevento conspired to send for Adelchis from

Constantinople, and proclaim him as king of the Lombards. Hearing of

their plot, Charles descended upon Italy, slew the duke of Friuli in

battle, and compelled the duke of Spoleto to do him homage. Arichis of

Benevento was not subdued: he maintained his southern duchy intact,

though the Franks sent more than one expedition against him. Apparently

Charles regarded the homage of this distant state as too small a thing

to be worth his attention till 787, when he made another descent into

Italy in person, besieged Arichis in Salerno, and finally compelled him

to become his vassal. But in 792, Arichis being dead, his son Grimoald

shook off the Frankish yoke, and maintained a precarious

semi-independence for the future, though he was several times attacked,

and saw more than one of his chief towns stormed by the armies of

Charles. The great king himself, however, never entered Beneventan

territory again, and it was only his presence that could have sufficed

to subdue the unruly duke.

But we must return to the doings of Charles after his first conquest of

the Lombards in 774. During his absence the Saxons had once more taken

arms, and it was now high time to recommence the campaign against them,

which had been interrupted by the great expedition to Italy. The year

775 saw the first of the many subjections of Saxony which Charles was to

carry out during his long reign.

The Saxons were divided into four great divisions. Nearest the Frankish

frontier were the Westphalians, who dwelt on the Ems and Lippe, and

about the Teutoburger Wald. Beyond them to the east, the Engrians

occupied the valley of the Weser, from its mouth as far as the borders

of Hesse. East of the Engrians again, lay the Eastphalians, on the Aller

and Ocker and Elbe. The latter-named river separated them from the

Slavonic tribes of the Abotrites, who lived in the modern Mecklemburg.

[Sidenote: State of Saxony.] The fourth division of the Saxons were the

Nordalbingians, who dwelt in Holstein, beyond the Elbe, on the borders

of the Danes, and were the least accessible and most savage of their

race. Saxony was a land of wood, heath, and morass: only on its southern

border was there a hilly tract, the spurs of the Harz mountains. The

chief obstacle in the way of conquering the country was the fact that

the Saxons had no towns and very few fortified posts; they took refuge

in woods or swamps when the king’s army appeared, and came forth again

when he was gone. The land was quite roadless, so that the pursuit of

the flying tribes was very difficult. If surrounded and compelled to do

homage to Charles, they gave hostages, and paid great fines in cattle,

but the moment that the Franks had left their neighbourhood took arms

again. Nine times did one or other section of the Saxon race rebel, and

any will less strong than that of the inflexible Charles, would have

yielded before their intractable obstinacy. But he persevered to the end

in leading expedition after expedition against the rebels, punished

their revolts by fire and sword, transplanted incorrigible tribes across

the Rhine, built towns and castles all over the land, erected

bishoprics, and sent forth countless missionaries, till in the last ten

years of his life he had the satisfaction of seeing Saxony both

submissive and Christian.

[Illustration:

SAXONY

in the 9th century.

]

The expedition of 775 began by the invasion of Westphalia; after

dispersing its inhabitants, and storming their great entrenched camp at

Sigiburg, Charles passed on into Engria, defeated the Mid-Saxons and

crossed the Weser. This brought him into Eastphalia, which he ravaged as

far as the river Ocker. The Eastphalians, though the furthest of the

Saxons from the Frankish border, were the first to submit to Charles,

and their chief Hessi eagerly accepted Christianity, and did homage.

Soon after the Engrians also came in to the king’s camp, and gave up

hostages for their fidelity. [Sidenote: First conquest of Saxony. ] The

Westphalians held out last, and only submitted when Charles, on his

return towards Austrasia, ravaged their land from end to end, and made a

great slaughter of their warriors. The king left garrisons in two great

camps at Sigiburg and Eresburg, to hold down the Westphalians and

Engrians respectively. The hostages whom he brought back were mostly

boys of noble family, whom he sent to be brought up as Christians in

various Austrasian monasteries. Three-fourths of Saxony had thus done

homage to Charles, but their adhesion was of the most unstable sort.

They hated the Franks as ancestral enemies, and detested Christianity as

a Frankish device for subduing them body and soul. It was only the

presence of Charles and the fear of his return that kept them in order

for a moment.

No sooner had Charles started in the next year for his second invasion

of Italy, to put down the dukes of Friuli and Benevento, than the

Westphalians and Engrians at once took arms. They stormed the Frankish

camp at Eresburg, and slaughtered the garrison, but failed in a similar

attempt at Sigiburg. The moment that Charles heard of this rebellion, he

hastened back from Italy with such speed that he was already on the

Lippe before the Saxons suspected that he had crossed the Alps. So great

was their fear of him that the whole race at once asked for peace, and

sent their local chiefs to do him homage, ‘promising that they would all

be baptized, and hold their land as true vassals of the king.’

[Sidenote: Second conquest of Saxony, 776.] Only one chief, named

Witikind, refused to submit, and fled northward, to take refuge with the

Danes (776). Charles replaced his garrison in the fort of Eresburg, and

built another entrenched camp at Karlstadt. That winter he remained in

Austrasia, close to the Saxon border, in order to watch these

untrustworthy subjects. In the next spring he summoned the great

national council of the whole Frankish realm to meet at Paderborn, in

the heart of Engria, in order to mark the fact that Saxony had now

become an integral part of his dominions (777). ‘Then were a great

multitude of the Saxons baptized, and following their national custom,

they swore that they would forfeit their freedom and their lands if ever

they revolted again, according to their old habit, and unless they kept

their Christianity and their loyalty to king Charles and his heirs.’

To this great diet at Paderborn came some ambassadors from Spain,

bearing an unexpected offer of homage to the king. Abderahman, the

Ommeyad, had finally succeeded in conquering well-nigh the whole of the

Spanish peninsula from those of the Saracens who refused to accept him

as king. The last survivors of his opponents, in desperate straits, sent

to offer to become the vassals of Charles if he would preserve them from

the conqueror. These chiefs were Soliman Ibn-al-Arabi and Kasmin

Ibn-Yussuf, who were holding the towns of Barcelona, Gerona, and Huesca,

in the extreme north-east of Spain, on the Frankish border. Charles

determined to accept their offer, and so to thrust forward his frontier

beyond the Pyrenees, as to protect Septimania from Saracen raids by

interposing a new line of fortresses between it and the dominion of the

ruler of Cordova. He believed that Saxony was fully subdued, and might

be safely left alone to settle down into loyalty and Christian ways.

[Sidenote: Charles invades Spain, 778.] Accordingly, in 778, Charles led

his first great expedition into Spain. He himself crossed the Western

Pyrenees with the host of Neustria, while the levy of Austrasia,

Burgundy, and Lombardy, passed the Eastern Pyrenees. The two armies met

in front of Saragossa, and Charles there received the homage of the

rebel Saracen chiefs of Barcelona and Gerona. Saragossa, however, did

not fall, in spite of the great army that had been concentrated against

it, and Charles then wheeled about, and returned to Aquitaine by the

same way that he had come. His expedition had not proved a great

success. The Saracen rebels were untrustworthy vassals, nor was the only

other result of the campaign, the homage paid to Charles by the Spanish

Basques and Navarrese, after he had stormed their town of Pampeluna, a

more solid gain. Indeed, while the Frankish army was returning through

the passes of the Pyrenees, the Basques fell upon the king’s rearguard

and waggon-train, in the famous defile of Roncesvalles. They captured

much booty, and slew three great officials—Eggihard, the seneschal;

Anselm, the count of the palace; and Hruotland (Roland), the warden of

the Breton marches. The last-named, of whom history knows nothing save

his untimely fall at Roncesvalles, must have been a great man among the

Franks, for within a short time after his death he had become the hero

of many legends, which ultimately took shape in the famous _Chanson de

Roland_, wherein the Breton Margrave appears as second only to Charles

the Great among the hosts of Christendom (778).

The king had not long reached Aquitaine when the unwelcome news arrived

that the Saxons had broken their oaths, and were once more up in arms.

The exile Witikind had returned from Denmark, and called the turbulent

youth of Saxony into the field. The greater number of the tribes had

risen at his call, and a great Saxon host had stormed the new fort of

Karlstadt, and harried Hesse and the right bank of the Rhine, as far as

Deutz and the mouth of the Moselle, burning churches, and slaying the

peasantry of the country-side in revenge for the destruction of the

Irminsul and the ravages of Charles in 775-76. On receiving this

disturbing news the king made his way to Austrasia, sent out some troops

to clear the Rhine-bank of the Saxon plunderers, but put off the general

muster of the hosts of the Franks for a third conquest of Saxony till

next year. In the summer of 779, however, he again started on his

endless task, and marched through Westphalia with fire and sword. The

Westphalians once more surrendered, after a defeat in the open field;

the Engrians and Eastphalians yielded without fighting. [Sidenote:

Fourth conquest of Saxony.] In the next spring he returned again, held a

great diet at the headwaters of the Lippe, and divided all Saxony into

missionary districts, each to be worked by a colony of monks from

Austrasia, the first step towards the partition of the land into the

later bishoprics. This activity was rewarded by the conversion and

baptism of many thousand pagans. Charles assisted in person on more than

one occasion, when whole thousands of Saxons were simultaneously passed

through the waters of the Ocker and the Elbe (780).

He then turned off towards Italy. For the first time his departure was

not followed by an immediate outbreak of rebellion. The land remained

quiet for more than two years (780-82), and when he next passed that way

Charles thought it had advanced so far in the paths of peace that he

divided it up into countships, after the model of the rest of his

empire, and gave the charge of many of them to native Saxon chiefs, whom

he honoured with the title of count; the rest were placed under officers

of Frankish blood. He also published a code of laws for Saxony, in which

the harshest punishments were denounced against all those who still

clung to paganism. Such offences as sacrificing to Woden, burning

instead of burying the dead, openly deriding church ceremonies, or

robbing a church, were to be punished with instant death. Even those who

obstinately refused baptism, or who after baptism refused to fast in

Lent, and conform to church discipline, were threatened with capital

punishment.

It was perhaps in consequence of the issue of this cruel code that the

Saxons once more flew to arms in the autumn of 782. The rebel Witikind

returned from Denmark to put himself at their head, and most of the

northern tribes rose at his call. The news quickly brought Charles back

into the country. Once more he came in overwhelming force, and many of

the Saxons at once laid down their arms and submitted. But now for the

first time the king showed signs of violent wrath against the unruly

race. He could not pardon them for slaying priests, burning churches,

and washing off in mockery their marks of baptism. He bade each tribe

send to him in bonds those men who had been most prominent in casting

off Christianity and fomenting the last rising. [Sidenote: Massacre of

Verden.] Four thousand five hundred captives were brought before him by

their submissive countrymen in his camp at Verden, on the Aller.

Yielding to an impulse of revenge, Charles had the whole of this great

body of helpless prisoners beheaded. But, instead of cowing the Saxons,

this cruel execution only roused them to wild wrath. Every man in the

nation had lost some friend or relative in the great massacre, and even

the tribes which had hitherto been most submissive flew to arms. There

followed more than two years of unbroken fighting (783-85). Charles

marched twice through the land, burning and slaughtering over the face

of every Saxon _gau_, from the Ems to the Elbe, but the infuriated

rebels closed in behind him after he had passed, and still held out in

the woods and marshes. But the king only hardened his heart. He refused

to quit the land, and wintered, with all his army, near Minden, in the

heart of Saxony. At last, in the spring of 785, the perseverance of the

rebels began to quail; it was impossible to drive off the inflexible

king of the Franks, and they once more bethought them of submission.

[Sidenote: Fifth conquest of Saxony, 785.] The rebel chief Witikind

obtained a promise of his life if he would surrender and be baptized,

and, when he, with his chosen warriors, submitted, the great rising was

at last at an end. Once more the counts received charge of their old

districts, the missionaries returned to rebuild their ruined churches,

and the surviving Saxons submitted in despair to the yoke of the

Frankish warrior and the Frankish priest.

It was seven years before any further trouble arose in Saxony, though

there were to be four more partial risings between 792 and 804. But none

of these threatened seriously to shake Charles’s domination; they were

merely the last throes of Saxon despair, and cannot be compared to the

great struggle of 783-85, in which the fate of Saxon independence and

Saxon heathendom was really settled.

[Sidenote: Annexation of Bavaria.] It was shortly after the final

annexation of the Germans of the Elbe and Weser that Charles fully

incorporated the Germans of the upper Danube with his empire. His

vassal, Tassilo, duke of Bavaria, had been a somewhat unruly and

disobedient subject. He was pardoned for more than one outburst of

disloyalty, but when he was treated with kindness and consideration he

behaved no better than before. At last, in 788, he was deprived of his

duchy, which was cut up into countships and put under Frankish

governors, while he himself was sent to end his days in the Neustrian

monastery of Jumiéges.

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The Dark Ages, 476-918 · 第 20 / 29 章