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CAMEOS FROM ENGLISH HISTORY
FROM ROLLO TO EDWARD II.
By Charlotte Mary Yonge
1873
PREFACE.
The “Cameos” here put together are intended as a book for young people
just beyond the elementary histories of England, and able to enter in
some degree into the real spirit of events, and to be struck with
characters and scenes presented in some relief.
The endeavor has not been to chronicle facts, but to put together a
series of pictures of persons and events, so as to arrest the attention
and give some individuality and distinctness to the recollection, by
gathering together details at the most memorable moments. Begun many
years since, as the historical portion of a magazine, the earlier ones
of these Cameos have been collected and revised to serve for school-room
reading, and it is hoped that, if these are found useful, they may ere
long be followed up by a second volume, comprising the wars in France,
and those of the Roses.
_February 28th, 1868._
CONTENTS.
INTRODUCTION
CAMEO I. ROLF GANGER (900-932)
CAMEO II. WILLIAM LONGSWORD AND RICHARD THE FEARLESS (932-996)
CAMEO III. YOUTH OF THE CONQUEROR (1026-1066)
CAMEO IV. EARL GODWIN (1012-1052)
CAMEO V. THE TWO HAROLDS (1060-1066)
CAMEO VI. THE NORMAN INVASION (1066)
CAMEO VII. THE BATTLE OF HASTINGS (1066) CONTENTS.
CAMEO VIII. THE CAMP OF REFUGE (1067-1072)
CAMEO IX. THE LAST SAXON BISHOP (1008-1095)
CAMEO X. THE CONQUEROR (1066-1087)
CAMEO XI. THE CONQUEROR’S CHILDREN (1050-1087)
CAMEO XII. THE CROWN AND THE MITRE (1087-1107)
CAMEO XIII. THE FIRST CRUSADE (1095-1100)
CAMEO XIV. THE ETHELING FAMILY (1010-1159)
CAMEO XV. THE COUNTS OF ANJOU (888-1142)
CAMEO XVI. VISITORS OF HENRY I. (1120-1134)
CAMEO XVII. THE BATTLE OF THE STANDARD (1135-1138)
CAMEO XVIII. THE SNOWS OF OXFORD (1138-1154)
CAMEO XIX. YOUTH OF BECKET (1154-1162)
CAMEO XX. THE CONSTITUTIONS OF CLARENDON (1163-1172)
CAMEO XXI. DEATH OF BECKET (1166-1172)
CAMEO XXII. THE CONQUEST OF IRELAND (1172)
CAMEO XXIII. THE REBELLIOUS EAGLETS (1149-1183)
CAMEO XXIV. THE THIRD CRUSADE (1189-1193)
CAMEO XXV. ARTHUR OF BRITTANY (1187-1206)
CAMEO XXVI. THE INTERDICT (1207-1214)
CAMEO XXVII. MAGNA CHARTA (1214-1217)
CAMEO XXVIII. THE FIEF OP ROME (1217-1254)
CAMEO XXIX. THE LONGESPÉES IN THE EGYPTIAN CRUSADES (1219-1254)
CAMEO XXX. SIMON DE MONTFORT (1232-1266)
CAMEO XXXI. THE LAST OF THE CRUSADERS (1267-1291)
CAMEO XXXII. THE CYMRY (B.C. 66-A.D. 1269)
CAMEO XXXIII. THE ENGLISH JUSTINIAN (1272-1292)
CAMEO XXXIV. THE HAMMER OF THE SCOTS (1292-1305)
CAMEO XXXV. THE EVIL TOLL (1294-1305)
CAMEO XXXVI. ROBERT THE BRUCE (1305-1308)
CAMEO XXXVII. THE VICTIM OP BLACKLOW HILL (1307-1313)
CAMEO XXXVIII. BANNOCKBURN (1307-1313)
CAMEO XXXIX. THE KNIGHTS OF THE TEMPLE (1292-1316)
CAMEO XL. THE BARONS’ WARS (1310-1327)
CAMEO XLI. GOOD KING ROBERT’S TESTAMENT (1314-1329)
CAMEOS
OF
THE HISTORY OF ENGLAND
INTRODUCTION.
Young people learn the history of England by reading small books which
connect some memorable event that they can understand, and remember,
with the name of each king--such as Tyrrell’s arrow-shot with William
Rufus, or the wreck of the White Ship with Henry I. But when they begin
to grow a little beyond these stories, it becomes difficult to find a
history that will give details and enlarge their knowledge, without
being too lengthy. They can hardly be expected to remember or take an
interest in personages or events left, as it were, in the block. It was
the sense of this want that prompted the writing of the series that here
follows, in which the endeavor has been to take either individual
characters, or events bearing on our history, and work them out as fully
as materials permitted, so that each, taken by itself, might form an
individual Cameo, or gem in full relief, and thus become impressed upon
the mind.
The undertaking was first begun sixteen years ago, for a periodical for
young people. At that time, the view was to make the Cameos hang, as it
were, on the thread furnished by ordinary childish histories, so as to
leave out what might be considered as too well-known. However, as the
work made progress, this was found to be a mistake; the omissions
prevented the finished parts from fitting together, and the characters
were incomplete, without being shown in action. Thus, in preparing the
Cameos for separate publication, it has been found better to supply what
had previously been omitted, as well as to try to correct and alter the
other Cameos by the light of increasing information.
None of them lay claim to being put together from original documents;
they are only the attempt at collecting, from large and often not easily
accessible histories, the more interesting or important scenes and
facts, and at arranging them so that they may best impress the
imagination and memory of the young, so as to prepare them for fuller
and deeper reading.
Our commencement is with the Dukes of Normandy. The elder England has
been so fully written of, and in such an engaging manner for
youthful readers, in the late Sir Francis Palgrave’s “History of the
Anglo-Saxons,” that it would have been superfluous to expand the very
scanty Cameos of that portion of our history. The present volume, then,
includes the history of the Norman race of sovereigns, from Rollo to
Edward of Carnarvon, with whose fate we shall pause, hoping in a second
volume to go through the French wars and the wars of the Roses. Nor have
we excluded the mythical or semi-romantic tales of our early history. It
is as needful to a person of education to be acquainted with them, as
if they were certain facts, and we shall content ourselves with marking
what come to us on doubtful authority.
CAMEO I. ROLF GANGER. (900-932.)
_Kings of England_.
901. Edward the Elder.
924. Athelstan.
_Kings of France_.
898. Charles
the Simple.
923. Rudolf.
_Emperors of Germany_.
899. Ludwig IV.
912. Konrad.
If we try to look back at history nine hundred years, we shall see a
world very unlike that in which we are now moving. Midway from the birth
of our Lord to the present era, the great struggle between the new and
old had not subsided, and the great European world of civilized nations
had not yet settled into their homes and characters.
Christianity had been accepted by the Roman Emperor six hundred years
previously, but the Empire was by that time too weak and corrupt to be
renewed, even by the fresh spirit infused into it; and, from the 4th
century onward, it had been breaking up under the force of the fierce
currents of nations that rushed from the north-east of Europe. The Greek
half of the Empire prolonged its existence in the Levant, but the Latin,
or Western portion, became a wreck before the 5th century was far
advanced. However, each conquering tribe that poured into the southern
dominions had been already so far impressed with the wisdom and dignity
of Rome, and the holiness of her religion, that they paused in their
violence, and gradually allowed themselves to be taught by her doctrine,
tamed by her manners, and governed by her laws. The Patriarch of
Rome--_Papa_, or Father--was acknowledged by them, as by the subjects of
Rome of old; they accepted the clergy, who had already formed dioceses
and parishes, and though much of horrible savagery remained to be
subdued in the general mass, yet there was a gradual work of
amelioration in progress.
This was especially the case with the Franks, who had overspread the
northern half of Gaul. Their first race of kings had become Christians
simultaneously with their conquest; and though these soon dwindled away
between crime and luxury, there had grown up under them a brave and
ambitious family, whose earlier members were among the most
distinguished persons in history.
Charles Martel turned back the Saracens at Tours, and saved Europe from
Mahometanism, and his grandson, Charles the Great, rescued the Pope from
the Lombards, and received from him in return the crown of a new Empire
of the West--the Holy Roman Empire, which was supposed to be the great
temporal power. As the Pope, or Patriarch, was deemed the head of all
bishops, so the Emperor was to be deemed the head of all kings of the
West, from the Danube and Baltic to the Atlantic Ocean--the whole
country that had once been held by Rome, and then had been wrested from
her by the various German or Teutonic races. The island of Great Britain
was a sort of exception to the general rule. Like Gaul, it had once been
wholly Keltic, but it had not been as entirely subdued by the Romans,
and the overflow of Teutons came very early thither, and while they were
yet so thoroughly Pagan that the old Keltic Church failed to convert
them, and the mission of St. Augustine was necessary from Rome.
A little later, when Charles the Great formed his empire of Franks,
Germans, Saxons, and Gauls, Egbert gathered, in like manner, the various
petty kingdoms of the Angles and Saxons under the one dominant realm of
Wessex, and thus became a sort of island Emperor.
It seems, however, to be a rule, that nations and families recently
emerged from barbarism soon fade and decay under the influence of high
civilization; and just as the first race of Frankish kings had withered
away on the throne, so the line of Charles the Great, though not
inactive, became less powerful and judicious, grew feeble in the very
next generation, and were little able to hold together the multitude of
nations that had formed the empire.
Soon the kingdom of France split away from the Empire; and while a fresh
and more able Emperor became the head of the West, the descendants of
the great Charles still struggled on, at their royal cities of Laon and
Soissons, with the terrible difficulties brought upon them by restless
subjects, and by the last and most vigorous swarm of all the Teutonic
invaders.
The wild rugged hills and coasts of Scandinavia, with their keen
climate, long nights, and many gulfs and bays, had contributed to nurse
the Teuton race in a vigor and perfection scarcely found elsewhere--or
not at least since the more southern races had yielded to the enervating
influences of their settled life. Some of these had indeed been tamed,
but more had been degraded. The English were degenerating into
clownishness, the Franks into effeminacy; and though Christianity
continually raised up most brilliant lights--now on the throne, now
in the cathedral, now in the cloister--yet the mass of the people lay
sluggish, dull, inert, selfish, and half savage.
They were in this state when the Norseman and the Dane fitted out their
long ships, and burst upon their coasts. By a peculiar law, common once
to all the Teuton nations, though by that time altered in the southern
ones, the land of a family was not divided among its members, but all
possessed an equal right in it; and thus, as it was seldom adequate to
maintain them all, the more enterprising used their right in it only to
fell trees enough to build a ship, and to demand corn enough to victual
their crew, which was formed of other young men whose family inheritance
could not furnish more than a sword or spear.
Kings and princes--of whom there were many--were exactly in the same
position as their subjects, and they too were wont to seek their
fortunes upon the high seas. Fleets coalesced under the command of
some chieftain of birth or note, and the Vikings, or pirates, sailed
fearlessly forth, to plunder the tempting regions to the south of them.
Fierce worshippers were they of the old gods, Odin, Frey, Thor; of the
third above all others, and their lengthy nights had led to their
working up those myths that had always been common to the whole race
into a beauty, poetry, and force, probably not found elsewhere; and that
nerved them both to fight vehemently for an entrance to Valhalla, the
hall of heroes, and to revenge the defection of the Christians who had
fallen from Odin. They plundered, they burnt, they slew; they specially
devastated churches and monasteries, and no coast was safe from them
from the Adriatic to the furthest north--even Rome saw their long ships,
and, “From the fury of the Northmen, good Lord deliver us,” was the
prayer in every Litany of the West.
England had been well-nigh undone by them, when the spirit of her
greatest king awoke, and by Alfred they were overcome: some were
permitted to settle down and were taught Christianity and civilization,
and the fresh invaders were driven from the coast. Alfred’s gallant son
and grandson held the same course, guarded their coasts, and made
their faith and themselves respected throughout the North. But in
France, the much-harassed house of Charles the Great, and the
ill-compacted bond of different nations, were little able to oppose
their fierce assaults, and ravage and devastation reigned from one end
of the country to another.
However, the Vikings, on returning to their native homes, sometimes
found their place filled up, and the family inheritance incapable of
supporting so many. Thus they began to think of winning not merely gold
and cattle, but lands and houses, on the coasts that they had pillaged.
In Scotland, the Hebrides, and Ireland, they settled by leave of nothing
but their swords; in England, by treaty with Alfred; and in France, half
by conquest, half by treaty, always, however, accepting Christianity as
a needful obligation when they accepted southern lands. Probably they
thought that Thor was only the god of the North, and that the “White
Christ,” as they called Him who was made known to them in these new
countries, was to be adored in what they deemed alone His territories.
Of all the sea-robbers who sailed from their rocky dwelling-places by
the fiords of Norway, none enjoyed higher renown than Rolf, called the
ganger, or walker, as tradition relates, because his stature was so
gigantic that, when clad in full armor, no horse could support his
weight, and he therefore always fought on foot.
Rolf’s lot had, however, fallen in what he doubtless considered as evil
days. No such burnings and plunderings as had hitherto wasted England,
and enriched Norway, fell to his share; for Alfred had made the bravest
Northman feel that his fleet and army were more than a match for theirs.
Ireland was exhausted by the former depredations of the pirates,
and, from a fertile and flourishing country, had become a scene of
desolation; Scotland and its isles were too barren to afford prey to
the spoiler; and worse than all, the King of Norway, Harald Harfagre,
desirous of being included among the civilized sovereigns of Europe,
strictly forbade his subjects to exercise their old trade of piracy on
his own coasts, or on those of his allies. Rolf, perhaps, considered
himself above this new law. His father, Earl Rognwald, as the chief
friend of the King, had been chosen to cut and comb the hair which
Harald had kept for ten years untrimmed, in fulfilment of a vow, that
his locks should never be clipped until the whole of Norway was under
his dominion. He had also been invested with the government of the great
Earldom of Möre, where the sons of Harald, jealous of the favor with
which he was regarded by their father, burnt him and sixty of his men,
in his own house. The vengeance taken by his sons had been signal, and
the King had replaced Thorer the Silent, one of their number, in his
father’s earldom.
Rolf, presuming on the favor shown to his family, while returning from
an expedition on the Baltic, made a descent on the coast of Viken, a
part of Norway, and carried off the cattle wanted by his crew. The King,
who happened at that time to be in that district, was highly displeased,
and, assembling a council, declared Rolf Ganger an outlaw. His mother,
Hilda, a dame of high lineage, in vain interceded for him, and closed
her entreaty with a warning in the wild extemporary poetry of the North:
“Bethink thee, monarch, it is ill
With such a wolf, at wolf to play,
Who, driven to the wild woods away,
May make the king’s best deer his prey.”
Harald listened not, and it was well; for through the marvellous
dealings of Providence, the outlawry of this “wolf” of Norway led to the
establishment of our royal line, and to that infusion of new spirit into
England to which her greatness appears to be chiefly owing.
The banished Rolf found a great number of companions, who, like himself,
were unwilling to submit to the strict rule of Harald Harfagre, and
setting sail with them, he first plundered and devastated the coast of
Flanders, and afterward turned toward France. In the spring of 896, the
citizens of Rouen, scarcely yet recovered from the miseries inflicted
upon them by the fierce Danish rover, Hasting, were dismayed by the
sight of a fleet of long low vessels with spreading sails, heads carved
like that of a serpent, and sterns finished like the tail of the
reptile, such as they well knew to be the keels of the dreaded Northmen,
the harbingers of destruction and desolation. Little hope of succor or
protection was there from King Charles the Simple; and, indeed, had
the sovereign been ever so warlike and energetic, it would little have
availed Rouen, which might have been destroyed twice over before a
messenger could reach Laon.
In this emergency, Franco, the Archbishop, proposed to go forth to meet
the Northmen, and attempt to make terms for his flock. The offer was
gladly accepted by the trembling citizens, and the good Archbishop went,
bearing the keys of the town, to visit the camp which the Northmen had
begun to erect upon the bank of the river. They offered him no violence,
and he performed his errand safely. Rolf, the rude generosity of whose
character was touched by his fearless conduct, readily agreed to spare
the lives and property of the citizens, on condition that Rouen was
surrendered to him without resistance.
Entering the town, he there established his head-quarters, and spent a
whole year there and in the adjacent parts of the country, during which
time the Northmen so faithfully observed their promise, that they were
regarded by the Rouennais rather as friends than as conquerors; and
Rolf, or Rollo, as the French called him, was far more popular among
them than their real sovereign. Wherever he met with resistance, he
showed, indeed, the relentless cruelty of the heathen pirate; but
where he found submission, he was a kind master, and these qualities
contributed to gain for him an easy and rapid conquest of Neustria, as
the district of which Rouen was the capital was then called.
In the course of the following year, he advanced along the banks of the
Seine as far as its junction with the Eure. On the opposite side of the
river, there were visible a number of tents, where slept a numerous army
which Charles had at length collected to oppose this formidable enemy.
The Northmen also set up their camp, in expectation of a battle, and
darkness had just closed in on them when a shout was heard on the
opposite side of the river, and to their surprise a voice was heard
speaking in their own language, “Brave warriors, why come ye hither, and
what do ye seek?”
“We are Northmen, come hither to conquer France,” replied Rollo. “But
who art thou who speakest our tongue so well?”
“Heard ye never of Hasting?” was the reply.
Hasting was one of the most celebrated of the Sea-Kings. He had fought
with Alfred in England, had cruelly wasted France, and had even sailed
into the Mediterranean and made himself dreaded in Italy; but with him
it had been as with the old pirate in the poem:
“Time will rust the sharpest sword,
Time will consume the strongest cord;
That which moulders hemp and steel,
Mortal arm and nerve must feel.
Of the Danish band, whom ‘Earl Hasting’ led,
Many wax’d aged, and many were dead;
Himself found his armor full weighty to bear,
Wrinkled his brows grew, and hoary his hair;
He leaned on a staff when his step went abroad,
And patient his palfrey, when steed he bestrode.
As he grew feebler, his wildness ceased,
He made himself peace with prelate and priest;
He made himself peace, and stooping his head,
Patiently listen’d the counsel they said.
“‘Thou hast murder’d, robb’d, and spoil’d,
Time it is thy poor soul were assoil’d;
Priests didst thou slay and churches burn,
Time it is now to repentance to turn;
Fiends hast thou worshipp’d with fiendish rite,
Leave now the darkness and wend into light;
Oh, while life and space are given,
Turn thee yet, and think of heaven.’
“That stern old heathen, his head he raised,
And on the good prelate he steadfastly gazed,
‘Give me broad lands on the “Eure and the Seine,”
My faith I will leave, and I’ll cleave unto thine.’
Broad lands he gave him on ‘Seine and on Eure,’
To be held of the king by bridle and spear,
“For the ‘Frankish’ King was a sire in age,
Weak in battle, in council sage;
Peace of that heathen leader he sought,
Gifts he gave and quiet he bought;
And the Earl took upon him the peaceful renown,
Of a vassal and liegeman for ‘Chartres’ good town:
He abjured the gods of heathen race,
And he bent his head at the font of grace;
But such was the grizzly old proselyte’s look,
That the priest who baptized him grew pale and shook.”
Such had been the history of Hasting, now Count of Chartres, who without
doubt expected that his name and example would have a great effect upon
his countrymen; but the answer to his question, “Heard ye never of
Hasting?” met with no such answer as he anticipated.
“Yes,” returned Rollo; “he began well, but ended badly.”
“Will ye not, then,” continued the old pirate, “submit to my lord the
King? Will ye not hold of him lands and honors?”
“No!” replied the Northmen, disdainfully, “we will own no lord; we will
take no gift; but we will have what we ourselves can conquer by force.”
Here Hasting took his departure, and returning to the French camp,
strongly advised the commander not to hazard a battle; but his counsel
was overruled by a young standard-bearer, who, significantly observing,
“Wolves make not war on wolves,” so offended the old sea-king, that he
quitted the army that night, and never again appeared in France. The
wisdom of his advice was the next morning made evident, by the total
defeat of the French, and the advance of the Northmen, who in a short
space after appeared beneath the walls of Paris.
Failing in their attempt to take the city, they returned to Rouen, where
they fortified themselves, making it the capital of the territory they
had conquered.
Fifteen years passed away, the summers of which were spent in ravaging
the dominions of Charles the Simple, and the winters in the city of
Rouen, and in the meantime a change had come over their leader. He had
been insensibly softened and civilized by his intercourse with the good
Archbishop Franco; and finding, perhaps, that it was not quite so easy
as he had expected to conquer the whole kingdom of France, he declared
himself willing to follow the example which he had once despised, and to
become a vassal of the French crown for the duchy of Neustria.
Charles, greatly rejoiced to find himself thus able to put a stop to
the dreadful devastations of the Northmen, readily agreed to the terms
proposed by Rollo, appointing the village of St. Clair-sur-Epte, on
the borders of Neustria, as the place of meeting for the purpose of
receiving his homage and oath of fealty. It was a strange meeting which
there took place between the degenerate and almost imbecile descendant
of the great Charles, with his array of courtly followers and his
splendor and luxury, and the gigantic warrior of the North, the founder
of a line of kings, in all the vigor of the uncivilized native of a cold
climate, and the unbending pride of a conqueror, surrounded by his tall
warriors, over whom his chieftainship had hitherto depended only on
their own consent, gained by his acknowledged superiority in wisdom in
council and prowess in battle.
The greatest difficulty to be overcome in this conference, was the
repugnance felt by the proud Northman to perform the customary act of
homage before any living man, especially one whom he held so cheap as
Charles the Simple. He consented, indeed, to swear allegiance, and
declare himself the “King’s man,” with his hands clasped between those
of Charles; but the remaining part of the ceremony, the kneeling to
kiss the foot of his liege lord, he absolutely refused, and was with
difficulty persuaded to permit one of his followers to perform it in his
name. The proxy, as proud as his master, instead of kneeling, took the
King’s foot in his hand, and lifted it to his mouth, while he stood
upright, thus overturning both monarch and throne, amid the rude
laughter of his companions, while the miserable Charles and his
courtiers felt such a dread of these new vassals that they did not dare
to resent the insult.
On his return to Rouen, Rollo was baptized, and, on leaving the
cathedral, celebrated his conversion by large grants to the different
churches and convents in his new duchy, making a fresh gift on each of
the days during which he wore the white robes of the newly baptized.
All of his warriors who chose to follow his example, and embrace the
Christian faith, received from him grants of land, to be held of him on
the same terms as those by which he held the dukedom from the King;
and the country, thus peopled by the Northmen, gradually assumed the
appellation of Normandy.
Applying themselves with all the ardor of their temper to their new way
of life, the Northmen quickly adopted the manners, language, and habits
which were recommended to them as connected with the holy faith which
they had just embraced, but without losing their own bold and vigorous
spirit. Soon the gallant and accomplished Norman knight could scarcely
have been recognized as the savage sea-robber, once too ferocious and
turbulent even for his own wild country in the far North, while, at the
same time, he bore as little resemblance to the cruel and voluptuous
French noble, at once violent and indolent. The new war-cry of _Dieu
aide_ was as triumphant as that of _Thor Hulfe_ had been of old, and the
Red Cross led to as many victories as the Raven standard.
It is said that the word “Exchequer” is derived from the court of
justice established by Rollo, so called from the word “_Schicken_”
signifying, in his native tongue, to send, because from it judges were
sent to try causes throughout the dukedom. It is also said that the
appeal from them to the Duke himself, made in these terms, “J’appelle a
Rou,” is the origin of the cry “_Haro_” by which, for centuries after
his descendants had passed away from Normandy, the injured always called
for justice. This was for many centuries believed in Normandy, but in
fact the word _Haro_ is only the same as our own “hurrah,” the beginning
of a shout. There is no doubt, however, that the keen, unsophisticated
vigor of Rollo, directed by his new religion, did great good in
Normandy, and that his justice was sharp, his discipline impartial,
so that of him is told the famous old story bestowed upon other just
princes, that a gold bracelet was left for three years untouched upon a
tree in a forest.
He had been married, as part of the treaty, to Gisèle, daughter of King
Charles the Simple, but he was an old grizzly warrior, and neither cared
for the other. A wife whom he had long before taken from Vermandois had
borne him a son, named William, to whom he left his dukedom in 932.
All this history of Rolf, or Rollo, is, however, very doubtful; and
nothing can be considered as absolutely established but that Neustria,
or Normandy, was by him and his Northmen settled under a grant from the
Frank king, Charles the Simple, and the French duke, Robert, Count of
Paris.
CAMEO II. WILLIAM LONGSWORD AND RICHARD THE FEARLESS. (932-996.)
_Kings of England_.
927. Athelstan.
940. Edmund I.
947. Edwy.
959. Edward.
959. Ethelred II.
_Kings of France_.
936. Louis IV.
954. Lothaire III.
986. Louis V.
987 Hugh Capet.
_Emperors of Germany_.
936. Otho I.
973. Otho II.
983. Otho III.
The Norman character was strongly marked. Their whole nature was strong
and keen, full of energy, and with none of the sluggish dulness that was
always growing over the faculties of the Frank and Saxon; and even to
this day the same energy prevails among their descendants, a certain
portion of the English nobility, and the population of Normandy and of
Yorkshire.
There was a deep sense of religion, always showing itself in action,
though not always consistently, and therewith a grand sense of honor
and generosity, coupled, however, with a curious shrewd astuteness. The
high-minded Norman was the flower of chivalry and honor, the low-minded
Norman the most successful of villains--and there has often been a
curious compound of both elements in the character of some of the most
distinguished Normans whom history has to show.
Old Rollo caused his only son to be highly educated, and William of the
Long Sword grew up a prince to be proud of. His height was majestic, his
features beautiful, his complexion as pure and delicate as a maiden’s,
his strength gigantic, his prowess with all the weapons on foot and on
horseback unrivalled, and his wit and capacity of the brightest and most
powerful. Born since his father’s arrival in France, the tales of Thor
and Odin, the old giants, and the future Valhalla, wore things of the
dark old past to him, and he threw himself with his whole heart into
the new faith. So intensely devout was he, so fond of prayer and of the
rites of the Church, that Rollo called him fitter for a cloister than
a dukedom; but the choice was not open to him, an only son, with the
welfare of the Normans dependent on him; and while living in the world,
his saintly aspirations did not preserve him from a self-indulgent
life at home, or from unjust dealing abroad. But he had many fits of
devotion. Once when hunting on the banks of the Seine, he came on the
ruins of the Abbey of Jumièges; which had, many years before, been
destroyed by Hasting. Two old monks, who still survived, came forth to
meet him, told him their history, and invited him to partake of some of
their best fare. It was coarse barley bread, and the young duke, turning
from it in disgust, carelessly bestowed a rich alms upon them, and
eagerly pursued his sport. He had not ridden far before he roused a huge
wild boar, and, in the encounter with it, he broke his sword, was thrown
from his horse, and so severely injured, that his servants, on coming
up, found him stretched insensible upon the ground. Believing this
accident to be the just punishment of Heaven for his contempt for the
old brethren, William, as soon as he recovered his senses, desired to be
carried to Jumièges, and there humbly confessed his sinful feelings, and
entreated their pardon.
His first care, when his health was re-established, was for the
restoration of Jumièges, which he built with great splendor, and often
visited. His chief desire was to enter the abbey as a brother of the
order, but his wish was opposed by the excellent Abbot Martin, who
pointed out to him that he ought not to desert the station to which he
had been called by Heaven, nor quit the government till his son was old
enough to take the charge upon himself, and at the same time encouraged
him by the example of many a saint, whose heavenward road had lain
through the toils and cares of a secular life.
William yielded to the arguments of the good father, but his heart was
still in the peaceful abbey, and he practised in secret the devotions
and austerities of the cloister to the utmost of his power, longing
earnestly for the time when he might lay aside the weary load of cares
of war and of government, and retire to that holy brotherhood.
In Normandy, his strict, keen justice made him greatly honored
and loved, but the French greatly hated and abhorred him, and his
transactions with them were sometimes cunning, sometimes violent. He
had much of the old Northman about him, and had not entered into the
Church’s teachings of the sanctity of marriage. Like his father, he had
had a half-acknowledged wife, Espriota, who was the mother of his only
child, Richard, but he put her away in order to ally himself with one of
the great French families, and he had his child brought up at Bayeux,
among Norse-speaking nobles, as if he would rather see him a Norseman
than a, French prince.
The bold and devout but inconsistent William was the dread of all his
neighbors, and especially of Arnulf, Count of Flanders. William was in
alliance with Herluin, Count of Montreuil, against Arnulf; when, in
942, he was invited to a conference on a small island in the Somme, and
there, having contrived to separate him from his followers, at a given
signal one of the Flemings struck him down with an oar, and a number of
daggers were instantly plunged into his breast.
The Flemings made their escape in safety, leaving the bleeding corpse
upon the island, where the Normans, who had seen the murder, without
being able to prevent or revenge it, reverently took it up, and brought
it back to Rouen. Beneath the robes of state they found it dressed in
a hair-cloth shirt, and round the neck was a chain sustaining a golden
key, which was rightly judged to belong to the chest where he kept his
choicest treasure; but few would have guessed what was the treasure so
valued by the knightly duke of the martial name, and doubtless there
were many looks of wonder among the Norman barons, when the chest was
opened, and disclosed, instead of gold and jewels, the gown and hood,
the sandals and rosary, of a brother of the Benedictine order.
He was buried beside his father, in the cathedral of Rouen, amid the
universal lamentations of his vassals; and his greatest friend and
counsellor, Bernard the Dane, Count of Harcourt, fetched from Bayeux his
only child, Richard, only eight years old, to be solemnly invested with
the ducal sword and mantle, and to receive the homage of the Normans.
[Footnote: This is the Norman legend. The French Chronicles point to
Norman treachery.] The bitter hatred of the French to the Normans could
not but break out in the minority.
To the surprise of the Normans, Louis IV., king of France, suddenly
arrived at Rouen, to claim, as he said, the homage of his young vassal.
On the following day, Richard did not, as usual, appear beyond the walls
of the castle, and there were rumors that he was detained there by order
of the king. Assembling in great numbers, the Rouennais came before the
castle, shouting loudly for “Richard! Richard! our little Duke!” nor
could they be pacified till Louis appeared at the window, lifting young
Richard in his arms, and made them a speech upon the gratitude and
admiration which he pretended to feel for Duke William, to whom he said
he owed his restoration to the throne of his fathers, and whose son
he promised to regard as his own child.
On leaving Rouen, Louis claimed the right of taking Richard with him,
as the guardian of all crown vassals in their minority; and Bernard de
Harcourt, finding it impossible to resist, only stipulated that the
young Duke should never be separated from his Norman esquire, Osmond de
Centeville, who on his side promised to keep a careful watch over him.
Richard was accordingly conducted to Montleon, and made the companion of
the two young princes, Lothaire and Carloman, and for some time no more
was heard respecting him in Normandy. At last arrived a message from
Osmond de Centeville, sent in secret with considerable difficulty,
telling the Normans to pray that their young duke might be delivered out
of the hands of his enemies, for that he was convinced that evil was
intended, since he was closely watched; and one day when he had gone
down to the river to bathe, the queen had threatened him with cruel
punishments if he again left the place. Bernard immediately ordered a
three days’ fast, during which prayers for the safety of the little
duke were offered in every church in Normandy, and further tidings were
anxiously awaited.
In the meantime the faithful squire was devising a plan of escape. He
caused the young Richard to feign illness, and thus obtained a slight
relaxation of the vigilance with which his movements, were watched,
which enabled him to carry to the duke’s apartments a great bundle of
hay. At nightfall he rolled Richard up in the midst of it, and laying it
across his shoulders, he crossed the castle court to the stable, as if
he was going to feed his horse, and as soon as it was dark he mounted,
placing the boy before him, and galloped off to a castle on the borders
of Normandy, where the rescued prince was greeted with the greatest joy.
The escape of his ward was followed by an open declaration of war on the
part of Louis IV., upon which the Count de Harcourt sent to Denmark to
ask succor from King Harald Blue-tooth, who, mindful of Duke William’s
kindness, himself led a numerous force to Normandy. Bernard, pretending
to consider this as a piratical invasion, sent to ask Louis to assist
him in expelling the heathens. Louis entered Normandy, and came in
sight of the Danish host on the banks of the river Dives, where Harald
summoned him to leave the dukedom to its rightful owner. Louis desired
a conference, and a tent was pitched between the armies, where the two
kings met.
Bernard advised the King of France not to bring Herluin de Montreuil to
this meeting, since the Normans considered him as the occasion of their
duke’s death; but the French replied that no Dane should hinder their
king from taking with him whomsoever he pleased. While the two kings
were in the tent, Herluin, seeing a knight from the Cotentin, with whom
he was acquainted, went up to him and inquired after his health.
The Danes asked who he was, and the knight replied, “Count Herluin, who
caused Duke William’s death;” whereupon the wild Danes rushed upon him,
and killed him with their battle-axes.
A general conflict ensued; the French were put to flight, and by the
time the kings came out of the tent, the battle was decided. Louis
mounted his horse in order to rejoin his troops, but the animal ran with
him into the midst of the enemy, where Harald caught his bridle, made
him prisoner, and delivered him to four knights to keep. While, however,
they were engaged in plundering, he made his escape, and had ridden four
leagues when he met a soldier of Rouen, whom he bribed to hide him in an
island in the Seine, until he could find a fit opportunity of quitting
Normandy. Harald and Bernard, however, by making strict inquiries,
discovered that the soldier knew where he was, and seizing the man’s
wife and children, threatened to put them to death if he did not put the
king into their hands. Louis was accordingly delivered to them, but they
shortly after released him on receiving his two sons as hostages.
The younger of the two princes died shortly after his arrival in
Normandy; and anxiety for Lothaire, the remaining son, induced his
father to come to terms with the Normans; and, at St. Clair-sur-Epte,
Louis swore to leave Richard in undisturbed possession of his lands, and
to extend the limits of the duchy as far as the banks of the Epte, after
which the young duke paid him homage, and restored his son to him.
Richard then returned to Rouen, which he had not visited since he had
been carried to the French court, and was greeted with great joy by the
citizens, who were much delighted by his appearance, the height of his
figure, and the beauty of his countenance. The King of Denmark was also
received by them with great enthusiasm, who, after spending some time at
Rouen, returned home.
At the age of fourteen, Richard was betrothed to Emma, daughter of Hugh
the White, Count of Paris, a nobleman whose increasing power had long
been a subject of jealousy both to the court of Flanders and to the
King of France. On hearing of the intended connection between these two
mighty vassals, they united their forces to prevent it, and called in
the aid of Otho, Emperor of Germany, and Conrad, King of Burgundy.
While Louis and Conrad attacked the Count, Otho and Arnulf entered
Normandy, and laid siege to Rouen, but on the way thither were attacked
by an ambuscade under the command of the young Richard himself, who now
for the first time bore arms, and greatly signalized himself, putting
the Germans to flight, and killing the Emperor’s nephew with his own
hand.
Otho still advanced and invested Rouen. Wishing to know what resources
the city contained, he sent to ask Richard’s permission to enter it, in
order to pay his devotions at the shrine of St. Ouen. His request was
granted, and in passing through the streets he perceived that the city
was so well defended that he could not hope to take it. On his return to
the camp, he told his council that he intended to make his peace with
the Duke of Normandy, by delivering up to him the Count of Flanders, the
author of the expedition. His council, however, persuaded him that this
would be a disgraceful action; and Arnulf, receiving some hint of his
proposal, in the middle of the night quitted the camp with all his men,
and returned to Flanders. The noise of his departure awoke the Germans,
who, imagining themselves to be attacked by the besieged, armed
themselves in haste, and there was great confusion till morning, when,
perceiving The departure of the Flemings, they set fire to their camp,
and took the road to Germany. The Normans, sallying out of the town,
harassed the rear, killed a number of them, and took many prisoners, and
a great quantity of baggage.
In 954, Louis was killed by a fall from his horse, and was succeeded
by his son Lothaire, who inherited all his dislike to the Normans, and
especially hated the young duke, the companion of his boyhood, whose
fame had so far exceeded his own, both in feats of arms and skill in
government, and who, though only twenty-three, had been chosen by the
wise and great Count of Paris as the guardian of his children, and the
model on which his sons were to form themselves.
Twice did Lothaire, in conjunction with Count Thibaut de Chartres, a
young nobleman who envied the fame of Richard, attempt to assassinate
him at a conference; and the former, despairing of ridding himself of
him by treachery, assembled an army of fifty thousand men, entered
Normandy, and besieged Rouen. Here Richard, in a sudden night-attack on
his camp, dispersed his forces, and took a great number of prisoners,
all of whom he released without a ransom. Then, pursuing his advantage,
he entered the county of Chartres, but he was obliged to return to his
duchy, to defend it against a powerful league of all the neighboring
princes, formed by the king.
Fearing to be crushed by so mighty a force, he sent to ask succor from
his old friend, the king of Denmark, who, though too aged and infirm to
come himself to Normandy, equipped a numerous fleet, and sent his best
warriors to Richard.
The ravages which they committed compelled the king to send the Bishop
of Chartres to sue for peace, but he would not venture into the camp
without an escort from the duke, lest, as he said, “the Danish wolves
should devour him on the way.”
On his arrival, he implored Richard to have compassion on the French,
who suffered dreadful miseries from the Danes; and the duke, always
desirous of peace, willingly engaged to treat with the king, and
withdrew his forces into Normandy, to the great disappointment of the
Danes, who had expected to dethrone Lothaire, and to place the gallant
Richard on his throne. They were much surprised at the moderation of the
demands which he, a conqueror, made to the humiliated Lothaire, only
desiring to be left in quiet possession of his inheritance, and that
a pardon should be granted for all injuries committed on either side
during the war.
Lothaire gladly agreed to these terms, and the remainder of Richard’s
life was spent in peace. Such of the latter’s subjects as had been
trained to arms in the constant wars during his minority, found
employment in combats with the Greeks and Saracens in Italy, where the
twelve sons of a Norman knight, named Tancred de Hauteville, laid the
foundation of the kingdoms of the Two Sicilies. Their place was supplied
by the Danish allies, who, full of admiration for the Fearless
Duke, were desirous of embracing his religion, and living under his
government. Thibaut de Chartres came to Normandy to implore his pardon,
and was received with such kindness that he was overcome with shame at
his former conduct.
Richard was a stern but honorable man, and the courage and ability which
he displayed throughout these wars made a great impression on his Danish
allies, who were induced, in great numbers, to adopt the religion of the
Fearless Duke, and to live under his government.
How the truly great man takes his revenge, was indeed shown by Richard
the Fearless, the last time he took any part in the affairs of the
nation. It was when Hugh Capet, Count of Paris, once his ward, had been
raised to the throne of France by the authority of the Pope, and having
received the homage of every crown vassal excepting Arnulf of Flanders,
proceeded to ravage his county and seize his towns. Arnulf, completely
reduced, saw no hope for himself except in throwing himself on the mercy
of Duke Richard, the very man whose father he had murdered, and whom
he had pursued with the most unrelenting hatred from his earliest
childhood. Richard had but to allow royal justice to take its course,
and he would have been fully avenged; but he who daily knelt before the
altar of the Church of Fescamp, had learnt far other lessons. He went
to Hugh Capet, and so pleaded with him, that he not only obtained the
pardon of Arnulf, but the restoration of the whole of his county, and
of both his cities. Thus, without doubt, would the saintly William
Longsword have desired to be revenged by his only son.
Richard Sans Peur lived nine years after this, spending his time,
for the most part, in the Abbey of Fescamp, in devotion and works of
charity, and leaving the government to his eldest son, Richard the Good.
He is thus described by a Norman chronicler who knew him well in his old
age: “He was tall and well-proportioned, his countenance was noble, his
beard was long, and his head covered with white hair. He was a pious
benefactor to the monks, supplied the wants of the clergy, despised the
proud, loved the humble, aided the poor, the widow and the orphan, and
delighted in ransoming prisoners.”
He caused a stone coffin to be made for himself in his lifetime, and
placed in the Church of Fescamp, where, every Friday, he filled it with
wheat, which was afterwards distributed among the poor. In this Abbey he
died in 996, desiring to be buried outside the church, close beneath the
eaves, “where,” said he, “the droppings of water from the roof may fall
on me, and wear away the stains of earthly corruption.”
His daughter Emma is often mentioned in English history as the wife of
Ethelred the Unready, and afterward of Knut. She has often been much
blamed for this second marriage with the enemy of her country, but it
should be remembered how nearly the Northmen and Danes were connected,
and that Knut was the grandson of her father’s ally, Harald Blue-tooth.
The great event of Richard’s time was the above-mentioned recognition
of Hugh Capet as King of France. The Caroline race were Franks, chiefly
German in blood, and had never fully amalgamated with the race called
French, a mixture of Roman and Gallic, with only an upper stratum of the
true Frank. When the Counts of Paris obtained the throne, and the line
of Charlemagne retired into the little German county of Lotharingia, or
Lorraine, then France became really France, and a nation with a national
sovereign. Still it was a very small domain. Provence was part of the
German Empire, so was Burgundy; Anjou, Normandy, and Brittany were
almost independent, though owning a sort of allegiance to the king who
reigned at Paris.
CAMEO III. YOUTH OF THE CONQUEROR. (1036-1066.)
_Kings of England_.
1016. Knut.
1036. Harold I.
1039. Harthaknut.
1041. Edward the
Confessor.
_Kings of France_.
1031. Henry IV.
1039. Philip I.
_Emperors of Germany_.
1021. Conrad II.
1039. Henry III.
1055. Henry IV.
Richard, called the Good, son of Richard Sans Peur, does not seem to
have been in all respects equal to his father, nor did much that is
worthy of note occur in his time.