when the Assembly or Parliament was to be held, and then dispersed
his troops according to the spies' report, and seized upon all the
deputies and these peasants who were giving oaths of allegiance to
their new commanders. Whether from design or from anger and prejudice
Raoul next treated his poor prisoners with terrible cruelty. He maimed
them in every way, putting out their eyes, cutting off their hands
or feet; he impaled them alive, and tortured them with melted lead.
Those who lived through their sufferings were sent home to be paraded
through the streets as a warning. So fear prevailed over even the
love of liberty in their brave hearts, for the association of Norman
peasants was broken up, and a sad resignation took the place, for
[Pg097] hundreds of years, of the ardor and courage which had been
lighted only to go out again so quickly.
There was another rebellion besides this, of which we have some
account, and one man instead of a whole class was the offender. One of
Richard's brothers, or half-brothers, the son of an unknown mother,
had received as his inheritance the county of Exmes, which held three
very rich and thriving towns. These were Exmes, Argentan, and Falaise
in which we have already learned that there was a colony of Flemings
settled, skilful, industrious weavers and leather-makers and workers
in cloth and metals. Falaise itself was already very old indeed, and
there remain yet the ruins of an old Roman camp, claimed to belong to
the time of Julius Cæsar, beside the earliest specimen of that square
gray tower which is really of earlier date though always associated
with Norman feudalism. The Falaise Fair, which was of such renown in
the days of the first dukes, is supposed to be the survival of some
pagan festival of vast antiquity. The name of Guibray, the suburb of
Falaise which gave its name to the Fair, is said to be derived from
the Gaulish word for mistletoe, and wherever we hear of mistletoe in
ancient history it reminds us, not of merry-makings and Christmas
holidays, but of the grim rites and customs of the Druids.
William, Duke Richard's brother, does not seem to have been grateful
for these rich possessions, and before long there is a complaint that
he fails to respond to the royal summons, and that he will not render
service or do homage in return for his holding. [Pg098] Raoul of Ivry
promptly counselled the Duke to take arms against the offender.
It was not long before William found himself a prisoner in the old
tower of Rolf at Rouen. He was treated with great severity, and only
avoided being hanged by making his escape in most romantic fashion. A
compassionate lady contrived to supply him with a rope, and he came
down from his high tower-window to the ground hand over hand. Luckily
he found none of his keepers waiting for him, and succeeded in getting
out of the country. Raoul had been hunting his partisans, and now he
had the pleasure of hunting William himself, by keeping spies on his
track and forcing him from one danger to another until he was tired
of his life, and boldly determined to go to his brother the Duke and
beg for mercy. He was very fortunate, for Richard not only listened
to him, and was not angry at being stopped on a day when he had gone
out to amuse himself with hunting, but he pardoned the suppliant and
pitied his trials and sufferings, and more than all, though he did not
give back the forfeited county of Exmes, he did give him the county of
Eu. We hear nothing of what Raoul thought of such a pleasant ending
to the troubles after he had shown such zeal himself in pursuing and
harassing the Duke's enemy.
We must take a quick look at the relations between Richard the Good
and Hugh Capet, Hugh of Paris's successor, and Robert of France, Hugh
Capet's son, who was trying to uphold the fading dignities and power
of the Carlovingian throne. Truly [Pg099] Charlemagne's glories were
almost spent, and the new glories of the great house of the Capets
were growing brighter and brighter. Our eyes already turn toward
England and the part that the Norman dukes must soon play there, but
there is something to say first about France.
Robert and Richard were great friends; they had many common interests,
and were bound by solemn oaths and formal covenants of loyalty toward
and protection of each other. Robert was a very honorable man; his
relation to his father was a most curious one, for they seem to have
been partners in royalty and to have reigned together over France.
Richard the Fearless had done much to establish the throne of the
Capets, and there was a firm bond between the second Richard and young
Robert, to whom he did homage. There were several powerful chiefs and
tributaries, but Richard the Good outranks them all, and takes his
place without question as the first peer of France. The golden lilies
of France are already in flower, and though history is almost silent
through the later years of Hugh Capet's life, there are signs of great
activity within the kingdom and of growing prosperity. There is an old
proverb: "Happy is that nation which has no history!" and whenever
we come to a time that the historians pass over or describe in a few
sentences, we take a long breath and imagine the people busy in their
homes and fields and shops, blest in the freedom from war and disorder.
Robert of France was a famous wit and liked to play tricks upon his
associates. He was a poet too, [Pg100] and wrote some beautiful
Latin rhymes which are still sung in the churches. There is a good
story about his being at Rome once at a solemn church festival. When
he approached the altar he held a chalice in his hands with great
reverence, and everybody could see that it held a roll of parchment.
There could be no doubt that the king meant to bestow a splendid gift
upon the church, perhaps, a duchy or even his whole kingdom; but after
the service was over, and the pope and cardinals, full of expectation,
hurried to see what prize was put into their keeping, behold! only a
copy of Robert's famous chant "/Cornelius Centurio!/" It was a sad
disappointment indeed when they looked at this unexpected offering!
But Robert was more than a good comrade, he was a remarkably good
king, as kings went; he kept order and was brave, decided, and
careful. It was true that he had fallen heir to a prosperous and
well-governed kingdom, but it takes constant effort and watchfulness
and ready strength to keep a kingdom or any lesser responsibilities
up to the right level. He had one great trial, for his wife Bertha,
being his first cousin, should not have been his wife according to the
laws of the Roman Church. For the first time there was a pope of Rome
who was from beyond the Alps, a German; and Robert and he were on bad
terms, which resulted in the excommunication of the king of France and
the queen, and at one time they were put so completely under the ban
that even their servants forsook them and the whole kingdom was thrown
into confusion. The misery became so [Pg101] great that the poor
queen presently had to be separated from her husband, and this was the
more grievous as she had no children, and so Robert was obliged to put
her away from him and marry again for the sake of having an heir to
the throne. Bertha's successor was very handsome, but very cross, and
in later years King Robert used to say: "There are plenty of chickens
in the nest, but my old hen pecks at me!"
In spite of the new queen's bad temper there are a good many things to
be said in her praise. She was much better educated than most women of
her day, and she had a great admiration for Robert's poetry, and these
things must have gone far to make up for her faults.
Duke Richard's marriage was a very fortunate one. His sister Hawisa,
of whom he was guardian, was asked in marriage by Duke Godfrey of
Brittany, and this was a very welcome alliance, since it bound the two
countries closer together than ever before, and made them forget the
rivalries which had sometimes caused serious trouble. Especially this
was true when a little later Richard himself married Godfrey's sister
Judith, who was distinguished for her wisdom. They had a most splendid
wedding at the Abbey of St. Michael's Mount, and in course of time one
of their daughters married the Count of Burgundy and one the Count of
Flanders.
In spite of much immorality and irregularity in those days, there was
enough that was proper and respectable in the alliances of the noble
families, and we catch many a glimpse of faithful lovers and [Pg102]
gallant love-making. It was often said that Normandy's daughters did
as much for the well-being of the country as her sons, and when we
read the lists of grand marriages we can understand that the dukes'
daughters won as many provinces by their beauty as the sons did by
their bravery in war.
It is hard to keep the fortunes of all these races and kingdoms clear
in our minds. We cannot help thinking of England, and looking at all
this early history of the Normans and their growth in relation to it.
Then we must keep track of the Danes and Northmen, who have by no
means outgrown their old traits and manners, though their cousins in
Normandy have given up privateering and the long ships. The history of
France makes a sort of background for Normandy and England both.
These marriages of which I have just told you greatly increased
the magnificence and the power of the Norman duchy and widened the
territory in every way. The Norman dukes could claim the right to
interfere in the affairs of those states to which they were allied,
and they improved their opportunities. But the most important of all
the alliances has not been spoken of at all—the marriage of Richard
the Fearless' daughter Emma to Æthelred the Unready of England.
Æthelred himself was the black sheep of his illustrious family—a long
line of noble men they were for the most part. In that age much of the
character of a nation's history depended upon its monarch, and it is
almost impossible to tell the fortunes of a country except by giving
the biographies [Pg103] of the reigning king. This Æthelred seems
to have had energy enough, but he began many enterprises and never
ended them, and wasted a great deal of strength on long, needless
expeditions, and does not appear to have made effective resistance to
the enemies who came knocking at the very gates of England. He had
no tact and little bravery, and was given to putting his trust in
unworthy and treacherous followers. Æthelred was the descendant of
good King Ælfred and his noble successors, but his own kingdom was
ready to fall to pieces before he reigned over it very long, and his
reign of thirty-eight years came near to being the ruin of England.
There were two or three men who helped him in the evil work, who were
greater traitors at heart than Æthelred himself, and we can hardly
understand why they were restored to favor after their treason and
selfishness were discovered. As one historian says, if we could only
have a few of the private letters, of which we have such abundance two
or three centuries later, they would be the key to many difficulties.
The Danes were nibbling at the shores of England as rats would gnaw
at a biscuit. They grew more and more troublesome. Over in Normandy,
Richard the Good was treating these same Danes like friends, and
allowing them to come into his harbors to trade with the Norman
merchants. In the Côtentin country they found a people much like
themselves, preserving many old traditions, and something of the
northern speech. The Côtentin lands were poor and rocky, but the hills
were crowded [Pg104] with castles, well armed and well fortified, and
the men were brave soldiers and sailors, true descendants of the old
vikings. They sought their fortunes on the sea too, and we can trace
the names of these Côtentin barons and their followers through the
army of William the Conqueror to other castles in the broad English
lands that were won in less than a hundred years from Æthelred's time.
Very likely some of these Côtentin Normans were in league with the
northern Danes who made their head-quarters on the Norman shores, and
went plundering across the Channel. Soon Æthelred grew very angry,
which was to be expected, and he gathered his fleets at Portsmouth,
and announced that he should bring Duke Richard back a captive in
chains, and waste the whole offending country with fire, except the
holy St. Michael's Mount.
[Illustration: QUEEN EMMA OR ÆLFGIFU (FROM THE REGISTER OF HYDE
ABBEY).]
The fleet obeyed Æthelred's foolish orders, and went ashore at the
mouth of the river Barfleur, only to find the Normans assembled from
the whole surrounding country—not a trained army by any means, but an
enraged peasantry, men and women alike, armed with shepherds' crooks,
and reaping-hooks and flails, and in that bloody battle of Sanglac,
they completely routed the English. All the invaders who escaped
crowded into six of their vessels and abandoned the rest, and hurried
away as fast as they could go. This was a strong link in the chain
that by and by would be long enough to hold England fast, and put her
at the mercy of the Normans altogether. There was peace made before
very long, though the Normans considered themselves [Pg105] to have
been grievously insulted, and laughed at the English for being so well
whipped. Perpetual peace, the contract unwisely promises, and the pope
interfered between the combatants, to prevent the shedding of innocent
blood. After the promises were formally made, Æthelred tried to make
the alliance even closer. He had children already—one, the gallant
Eadmund Ironside, who might have saved the tottering kingdom if he had
only held the authority which was thrown away in his father's hands.
The name of Æthelred's first queen has been lost, but she was "a
noble lady, the daughter of Thored, an Ealdorman," and had been some
time dead, so with great diplomacy King Æthelred the Unready, "by the
grace of God Basileus of Albion, King and Monarch of all the British
Nations, of the Orkneys and the surrounding Islands," as he liked
to sign himself, came wooing to Normandy. Emma, the duke's sister,
married him and went to England.
Æthelred gave her a splendid wedding-present of [Pg106] wide domains
in the counties of Devon and Hants, part of which held the cathedral
cities of Winchester and Exeter, the pride and defence of Southern
Britain. Queen Emma gave the governorship of Exeter to her chief
adviser and officer, Hugh the Norman, and her new subjects called her
the Gem of Normandy, and treated her with great deference. She had the
beauty of her race and of Rolf's descendants, and her name was changed
to Ælfgifu, because this sounded more familiar to the English ears. At
least that is the explanation which has come down to us.
Things were in a very bad way in England—the Anglo-Saxon rule of that
time was founded upon fraud and violence, and the heavy misfortunes
which assailed the English made them fear worse troubles later on. The
wisest among them tried to warn their countrymen, but the warnings
were apparently of little use. The make-believe rejoicings at Queen
Emma's coming were quickly over with, and soon we hear of her flight
to Normandy. Many reasons were given for this ominous act. Some say
that Æthelred disgusted her by his drunkenness and lawlessness, and
others that Hugh the Norman was treacherous, and betrayed his trust to
the Danes, and that the queen was a partner in the business. There is
still another story, that Æthelred was guilty of a shocking massacre,
and that Emma fled in the horror and confusion that it made. Yet later
she returned to England as the queen of Cnut the Dane.
Now we must change from England to France altogether for a few pages,
and see how steadily the [Pg107] power of the Normans was growing,
and how widely it made itself felt. We must see Richard the Good
as the ally of France in the warfare waged by King Robert against
Burgundy, which was the most important event of Robert's reign.
Old Hugh of Paris had carefully avoided any confusion between the
rights of Burgundy and the rights of France when he established the
foundation of his kingdom. He was a wise politician, and understood
that it would not do to conflict with such a power as Burgundy's,
which held the Low Countries, Spain, and Portugal and Italy within its
influence. Since his day Burgundy had been divided, but it was still
distinguished for its great piety and the number of its religious
institutions. Robert's uncle was Duke of Burgundy, and he was a very
old man; so Robert himself had high hopes of becoming his successor.
His chief rival was the representative of the Lombard kings in
Italy—Otho William, who was son of Adalbert, a pirate who had wandered
beyond the Alps, and Gerberga, the Count of Chalons' daughter. After
Adalbert died Gerberga married old Duke Henry of Burgundy, and
prevailed upon him to declare her son as his successor. This was
illegal, but Otho William was much admired and beloved, and the great
part of the Burgundians upheld his right.
Behold, then, Richard the Good and his Norman soldiery marching away
to the wars! Duke Henry was dead, and King Robert made haste to summon
his ally. Thirty thousand men were mustered under the Norman banner,
and the black raven of war went slowly inland. What an enterprise
it was to transport [Pg108] such a body of men and horses across
country! Supplies could not be hurried from point to point as readily
as in after-times, and the country itself must necessarily be almost
devastated as if a swarm of locusts had crept through it. Normandy was
overflowing with a military population anxious for something to do,
with a lingering love for piracy and plundering. They made a swift
journey, and Richard and his men were at the gates of the city of
Auxerre almost as soon as the venerable duke was in his grave.
There was a tremendous siege; Robert's rival had won the people's
hearts, and in the natural strongholds of the mountain slopes they
defended themselves successfully. Besides this brave opposition of
the Burgundians, the Normans were fought against in a more subtle way
by strange phenomena in the heavens. A fiery dragon shot across the
sky, and a thick fog and darkness overspread the face of the earth.
Auxerre was shrouded in night, and the Norman archers could not see
to shoot their arrows. Before long the leagued armies raised the
siege of the border city and marched on farther into the country up
among the bleak, rocky hills. Only one of the Burgundian nobles—Hugh,
Count of Chalons and Bishop of Auxerre—was loyal to the cause of
King Robert of France. Presently we shall see him again under very
surprising circumstances for a count, not to speak of a bishop! The
country was thoroughly ravaged, but some time passed before it was
finally conquered. At last there was a compromise, and Robert's son
was elected duke. His [Pg109] descendants gave France a vast amount
of trouble in later years, and so Burgundy revenged herself and Otho
William's lost cause.
Richard of Normandy had kept his army well drilled in this long
Burgundian campaign, but before his reign was over he had another war
to fight with the Count of Dreux. The lands of Dreux were originally
in the grant made to Rolf, but later they were held by a line of
counts, whose last representative disappeared in Richard the Fearless'
reign. We find the country in Richard's possession without any record
of war, so it had probably fallen to the crown by right. There was a
great Roman road through the territory like the Watling Street that
ran from Dover to Chester through England, and this was well defended
as the old Roman roads always were. Chartres was joined to Dreux by
this road, and Chartres was not at peace with Normandy. So a new fort
and a town sprung up on the banks of the river to keep Chartres in
check: Tillières, or the Tileries, which we might call the ancestor of
the famous Tuileries of modern Paris.
There were several fierce battles, and sometimes gaining and sometimes
losing, the Normans found themselves presently in a hard place. We
are rather startled to hear of the appearance of king Olaf of Norway
and the king of the Swedes as Richard's allies. The French people had
not wholly outgrown their hatred—or fear and distrust either—of the
pirates, and when the news came that bands of Northmen were landing
in Brittany there was a wild excitement. Richard and the Chartres
chieftain were making [Pg110] altogether too much of their quarrel,
and King Robert, as preserver of the public peace, was obliged to
interfere. After this episode everybody was more afraid of Normandy
than ever, and Chartres was the gainer by the town of Dreux, with
its forest and castle, that being the king's award. We cannot help
wondering why Richard was persuaded to yield so easily, with all his
Northmen eager enough to fight—but they disappear for the time being,
and many stories were told of their treacherous warfare in Brittany;
of the pitfalls covered with branches into which they tempted their
mounted enemies on the battle-field of Dôl. All this seems to have
been a little private diversion on their way to the Norman capital,
where they were bidden for the business with Chartres.
Then there was a fight with the bishopric of Chalons, which interests
us chiefly because Richard's son and namesake first makes his
appearance. Renaud, the son of Otho William, who had lost the dukedom
of Burgundy, had married a Norman damsel belonging to the royal family
of Rolf. This Renaud was defeated and captured by the Count-Bishop
of Chalons, of whom we know something already. He was loyal to King
Robert of France, you remember, in the war with Burgundy, and now
he treated Renaud with terrible severity, and had broken his vows,
moreover, by getting married.
King Robert gave the Normans permission to march through his
dominions, and seems to have turned his back upon the Count-Bishop.
There was a succession of sieges, and the army burned and [Pg111]
destroyed on every side as it went through Burgundy, and finally
made great havoc in one of the chief towns, called Mirmande in the
chronicles, though no Mirmande can be heard of now in that part of
the world, and perhaps the angry Normans determined to leave no trace
of it for antiquarians and geographers to discover. The Count-Bishop
flees for his life to Chalons, and when he was assailed there, he was
so frightened that he put an old saddle on his back and came out of
the city gates in that fashion to beg for mercy. The merry historian
who describes this scene adds that he offered Richard a ride and
that he rolled on the ground at the young duke's feet in complete
humiliation. One might reasonably say that the count made a donkey of
himself in good earnest, and that his count's helmet and his priestly,
shaven crown did not go very well together.
The third Richard covered himself with glory in this campaign,
however, and went back to Normandy triumphant, to give his old father
great pleasure by his valor. But Richard the Good was very feeble now,
and knew that he was going to die; so, like Richard the Fearless, he
went to Fécamp to spend his last days.
When he had confessed to the bishops, he called for his faithful
barons, and made his will. Richard was to be his successor, and his
courage and honesty deserved it; but the old father appears to have
had a presentiment that all would not go well, for he begged the
barons to be loyal to the good youth. Robert, the second son, fell
heir to the county of Exmes, upon the condition that he should be
faithful [Pg112] to his brother. There was another son, Mauger, a
bad fellow, who had no friends or reputation, even at that early day.
He was a monk, and a very low-minded one; but later he appears, to
our astonishment, as Archbishop of Rouen. No mention is made of his
receiving any gift from his father; and soon Richard the Good died and
was buried in the Fécamp Abbey. In after years the bones of Richard
the Fearless were taken from the sarcophagus outside the abbey door,
and father and son were laid in a new tomb near the high altar.