and tearful sailor, to the pious priests of the chief church, that
Hasting, a Northman, lay sick unto death aboard his ship, and was
desirous to repent him of his sins and be baptized. This was promising
better things of the vikings, and the good bishop visited Hasting
readily, and ministered eagerly to his soul's distress. Next day
word came that the robber was dead, and his men brought him early
[Pg131] to the church in his coffin, following him in a defenceless,
miserable group. They gathered about the coffin, and the service
began; the priests stood in order to chant and pray, their faces bowed
low or lifted heavenward. Suddenly up goes the coffin-lid, out jumps
Hasting, and his men clutch at the shining knives hidden under their
cloaks. They strip the jewelled vestments from the priests' backs;
they shut the church doors and murder the poor men like sheep; they
climb the high altar, and rob it of its decorations and sacred cups
and candlesticks, and load themselves with wealth. The city has hardly
time to see them dash by to the harbor side, to hear the news and
give them angry chase, before the evil ships are standing out to sea
again, and the pirates laugh and shout as they tug at the flashing
oars. No more such crafty converts! the people cry, and lift their
dead and dying priests sorrowfully from the blood-stained floor. This
was the fashion of Italy's early acquaintance with the Northmen, whose
grandchildren were to conquer wide dominions in Apulia, in Sicily, and
all that pleasant country between the inland seas of Italy and Greece.
It must have seemed almost as bad to the Romans to suffer invasion of
this sort as it would to us to have a horde of furious Esquimaux come
down to attack our coasts. We only need to remember the luxury of the
Italian cities, to recall the great names of the day in literature
and art, in order to contrast the civilization and appearance of the
invader and the invaded. Yet war was a constant presence then, and
every nation had its bitter enemies born of race [Pg132] prejudice
and the resentment of conquest. To be a great soldier was to be great
indeed, and by the time of the third of the Norman dukes the relation
of the Northmen and Italians was much changed.
Yet there was not such a long time between the time of Hasting the
pirate, and that of Tancred de Hauteville and Robert Guiscard.
Normandy had taken her place as one of the formidable, respectable
European powers. The most powerful of the fiefs of France, she was
an enemy to be feared and honored, not despised. She was loyal to
the See of Rome; very pious and charitable toward all religious
establishments; no part of Southern Europe had been more diligent in
building churches, in going on pilgrimage, in maintaining the honor
of God and her own honor. Her knights prayed before they fought, and
they were praised already in chronicle and song. The troubadours sung
their noble deeds from hall to hall. The world looked on to see their
bravery and valor, and when they grew restless and went a-roving and
showed an increasing desire to extend their possessions and make
themselves lords of new acres, the rest of the world looked on with
envy and approval. Unless the Normans happened to come their way; that
of course was quite a different thing.
We cannot help thinking that the readiness of the Englishman of to-day
to form colonies and to adapt himself to every sort of climate and
condition of foreign life, was anticipated and foreboded in those
Norman settlements along the shores of the Mediterranean sea. Perhaps
we should say again that the Northmen of a much earlier date were the
true [Pg133] ancestors of all English colonists with their roving
spirit and love of adventure, but the Normandy of the early part of
the eleventh century was a type of the England of to-day. Its power
was consolidated and the territory became too narrow for so much
energy to be pent up in. The population increased enormously, and the
familiar love of conquest and of seeking new fortunes was waked again.
The bees send out new swarms when summer comes, and, like the bees,
both Normans and Englishmen must have a leader and centralization of
the general spirit, else there is scattering and waste of the common
force.
We might go on with this homely illustration of the bees to explain
the way in which smaller or larger groups of pilgrims, and adventurers
of a less pious inclination, had wandered southward and eastward,
toward the holy shrines of Jerusalem, or the rich harvest of Oriental
wealth and luxury. Not much result came from these enterprises, though
as early as 1026, we find the Duke of Naples allowing a company of
Norman wanderers to settle at Aversa, and even helping them to build
and fortify the town, and to hold it as a kind of out-post garrison
against his enemies in Capua. They were understood to be ready for
all sorts of enterprises, and the bitter flowers of strategy and
revolt appeared to yield the sweetest honey that any country-side
could offer. They loved a fight, and so they were often called in by
the different Italian princes and proved themselves most formidable
and trustworthy allies in case of sudden troubles. This is what an
historian of that time says about them: [Pg134]
"The Normans are a cunning and revengeful people; eloquence and
dissimulation appear to be their hereditary qualities. They can stoop
to flatter; but unless they are curbed by the restraint of law they
indulge the licentiousness of nature and passion, and in their eager
search for wealth and dominion they despise whatever they possess and
hope whatever they desire. Arms and horses, the luxury of dress, the
exercises of hawking and hunting, are the delight of the Normans; but
on pressing occasions they can endure with incredible patience the
inclemency of every climate, and the toil and abstinence of a military
life."
How we are reminded of the old vikings in this striking description!
and how we see certain changes that have overlaid the original Norse
and Danish nature. There are French traits now, like a not very thick
veneering of more delicate and polished wood upon the sturdy oak.
Aversa was quickly made of great importance to that part of the world.
The Norman colony did good missionary work, and Robert Guiscard, the
chief Norman adventurer and founder of the kingdom of Naples, was
leader and inspirer of great enterprises. In following the history of
the time through many volumes, it is very disappointing to find such
slight reference to this most interesting episode in the development
of Norman civilization.
In one of the green valleys of the Côtentin, near a small stream
that finds its way into the river Dove, there are still standing the
crumbling walls of an ancient Norman castle. The neighboring fields
still [Pg135] keep their old names of the Park, the Forest, and
the Dove-Cot; and in this way, if in no other, the remembrance is
preserved of an old feudal manor-house. Not long ago some huge oaks
were clustered in groups about the estate, and there was a little
church of very early date standing in the shade of a great cedar tree.
Its roof had a warlike-looking rampart, and a shapely tower with
double crosses lifted itself high against the sky.
In the early years of the eleventh century there lived in this quiet
place an old Norman gentleman who was one of Duke Richard the Good's
best soldiers. He had wandered far and wide in search of gain and
glory. The Duke had given him command of ten armed men who formed
his body-guard, and after a long service at court this elder Tancred
returned to his tranquil ancestral home to spend the rest of his
days. He was poor, and he had a very large family. His first wife,
Muriel, had left several children, and their good step-mother treated
them all with the same tenderness and wise helpfulness that she had
shown to her own flock. The young de Hautevilles had received such
education as gentlemen gave their children in those days, and, above
every thing else, were expert in the use of arms and of horses and the
pleasures of the chase. They trained their falcons, and grew up brave
and strong. There were twelve sons, all trained to arms. Three of the
elder family were named William, Drogo, and Humphrey, and the sixth,
their half-brother, was Robert, who early won for himself the surname
of Guiscard, or the Wise. Tall fellows they were, these [Pg136] sons
of the Chevalier de Hauteville. One of the old French historians tells
us that they had an air of dignity, and even in their youth great
things were expected of them; it was easy to prophesy their brilliant
future.
While they were still hardly more than boys, Serlon, their eldest
brother, who had already gone to court, killed one of Duke Robert's
gentlemen who had offered him some insult, and was banished to England
where he spent some time in the dreariness of exile, longing more
and more to get back to Normandy. This brought great sorrow to the
household in the Côtentin valley; it was most likely that a great
deal depended upon Serlon's success, and the eager boys at home were
looking to him for their own advancement. However, the disappointment
was not very long-lived, for at the time when Henry of France was
likely to lose his throne through the intrigues of his brother and his
mother, Constance of Provence, and came to the Duke of Normandy for
aid, Serlon came home again without being asked, and fought like a
tiger at the siege of Tillières. You remember that this siege lasted
a long time, and it gives us a good idea of the warfare of that age
to discover that every day there came out of the city gate an awesome
knight who challenged the conqueror to single combat. The son of brave
old Tancred was not frightened by even the sight of those unlucky
warriors who lay dead under the challenger's blows, and one morning
Serlon went to the gate at daybreak and called the knight out to fight
with him. [Pg137]
The terrible enemy did not wait; he presently appeared in glistening
armor and mounted upon a fiery steed. He asked Serlon who he was,
and as if he knew by instinct that he had met his match at last,
counselled the champion of Normandy to run away, and not try to fight
with him.
Nobody had recognized the banished man, who carefully kept the visor
of his helmet down over his face, and when the fight was over and the
enemy's head was off and borne at the head of his victorious lance,
he marched silently along the ranks of the Norman knights, who were
filled with pride and glory, but for all their cheering he was still
close-helmeted. Duke Robert heard the news of this famous deed, and
determined that such a valiant knight must not hide himself or escape,
so he sent a messenger to command the stranger to make himself known.
When he found that Serlon himself had been the hero, he ran to meet
him, and embraced him and held him to his heart, and still more, gave
back to him all the lands and treasures which had come to him by his
marriage and which had been confiscated when he was sent into exile.
All these glories of their elder brother made the other sons more
eager now than ever to show their prowess, but there was slight chance
in Normandy, for the war lasted but little longer. But when Robert
had put the French king on his throne again, he determined, as we
have seen already, to go on a pilgrimage. There was not much prospect
of winning great fame at home while young William the heir was so
unpopular and Alan of Brittany was his careful [Pg138] guardian.
The de Hautevilles were impatient at the prospect of years of petty
squabbles and treacherous intrigues; they longed for a broader field
for their energies. There was no such thing as staying at home and
training the falcons; their hungry young brothers and sisters were
pushing their way already, and the ancient patrimony was growing
less and less. So William and Drogo and Humphrey went away to seek
their fortunes like fairy-book princes, and hearing vague rumors of
Rainulf's invitation to his countrymen, and of his being made count of
the new possessions in Aversa, they turned their faces towards Italy.
We cannot help lingering a moment to fancy them as they ride away from
the door of their old home—the three brave young men together. The
old father looks after them wistfully, but his eyes are afire, and
he lives his own youth over again and wishes with all his heart that
he were going too. The little sisters cry, and the younger brothers
long for the day when their turn will come to go adventuring. The tame
falcons flutter and peck at their hoods, there where they stand on
their perches with fettered claws; the grass runs in long waves on the
green hill-sides and dazzles the eyes that look after the sons as they
ride towards the south; and the mother gives a little cry and goes
back into the dark hall and weeps there until she climbs the turret
stairs to see if she cannot catch one more look at the straight backs
and proud heads of the young knights, or even one little glint of
their horses' trappings as they ride away among the orchard leaves.
[Pg139]
They would have to fight their way as best they could, and when they
reached Apulia at last they still found work enough for their swords.
South of Rome were the territories of the independent counts of Naples
and the republic of Amalfi. South of these the Greek possessions of
Lombardy, which had its own governor and was the last remnant of the
Eastern empire.
The beautiful island of Sicily had been in the hands of the Moslems
and belonged to the African kingdom of Tunis. In 1038 the governor
of Lombardy believed he saw the chance that he had long been waiting
for, to add Sicily to his own dominions. The Arabs were fighting
among themselves and were split up already into several weak and
irreconcilable factions, and he begged the Normans to go and help his
own army to conquer them. After a while Sicily was conquered, but the
Normans were not given their share of the glory of the victories; on
the contrary, the Lombard governor was too avaricious and ungrateful
for his own good, and there was a grand quarrel when the spoils were
divided. Two years afterwards the indignant Normans came marching back
to attack Apulia, and defeated the Greeks at Cannæ so thoroughly that
they were only left in possession of a few towns.
This was in 1043, and we cannot help feeling a great satisfaction at
finding William de Hauteville president of the new republic of Apulia.
Had not the three brothers shown their bravery and ability? Perhaps
they had only remembered their old father's wise talk, and profited by
his advice, and warning [Pg140] lest they should spend their strength
by being great in little things instead of aiming at nobler pieces of
work. All the high hopes which filled their hearts as they rode away
from Normandy must have come true. They were already the leaders in
Apulia, and had been foremost in the organization of an aristocratic
republic. Twelve counts were elected by popular suffrage, and lived at
their capital of Melfi, and settled their affairs in military council.
And William, as I have said, was president.
Presently from East and West envious eyes began to look at this
powerful young state. Europe knew well enough what had come from
giving these Normans foothold in Gaul not so very long ago, and the
Pope and the emperors of the West and East formed a league to chase
the builders of this new Normandy out of their settlements. The two
emperors, however, were obliged to hurry back to defend their own
strongholds, and Leo the Tenth was left to fight his neighbors alone,
with the aid of some German soldiers, a mere handful, whom Henry the
Third had left. The Normans proposed fair terms to his Holiness, but
he ventured to fight the battle of Civitella, and was overpowered
and beaten, and taken prisoner himself. Then the shrewd Normans said
how grieved they had been to fight against the Father of the Church,
and implored him, captive as he was, to receive Apulia as a fief of
the Holy See. This seems very puzzling, until we stop to think that
the Normans would gain an established position among the Italian
powers, and this amounted to an alliance with the power of the papal
interests. [Pg141]
William de Hauteville died, and the office of president, or first
count, passed to his next brother, Drogo, and after him to Humphrey.
One day, while Drogo was count, a troop of pilgrims appeared in
Amalfi, with their wallets and staves. This was no uncommon sight,
but at the head of the dusty company marched a young man somewhere
near twenty-five years of age, and of remarkable beauty. The high
spirit, the proud nobility in his face, the tone of his voice even,
showed him to be an uncommon man; his fresh color and the thickness
of his blond hair gave nobody a chance to think that he had come
from any of the Southern countries. Suddenly Drogo recognized one
of his step-brothers, whom he had left at home a slender boy—this
was Robert, already called Guiscard. He had gathered a respectable
little troop of followers—five knights and thirty men-at-arms made his
escort,—and they had been forced to put on some sort of disguise for
their journey, because the court of Rome, jealous of the growing power
of the Normans in Italy, did every thing to hinder their project, and
refused permission to cross their territories to those who were coming
from the North to join the new colony. Humbert de Hauteville was with
Robert—indeed the whole family, except Serlon, went to Italy sooner or
later after the old knight Tancred died; even the mother and sisters.
Robert arrived in time for the battle of Civitella, and distinguished
himself amazingly. Indeed he was the inspirer and leader of the Norman
successes in the South, and to him rather than to either of his
[Pg142] elder brothers belongs the glory of the new Normandy.
His frank, pleasant manners won friends and followers without
number, who loved him dearly, and rallied to his standard. He was
well furnished with that wiliness and diplomacy which were needed to
cope with Southern enemies, and his wild ambition led him on and on
without much check from feelings of pity, or even justice. Like many
other Normans, he was cruel, and his acts were those of a man who
sees his goal ahead, and marches straight toward it. While William
the Conqueror was getting ready to wear the crown of England, Robert
Guiscard was laying his plans for the kingdom of the two Sicilies.
After a while Drogo was assassinated, and then Humphrey was put in
his place, but he and Robert were always on bad terms with each other
apparently. Robert's faults were the faults of his time, and yet
his restlessness and ambition seem to have given his brother great
disquietude; perhaps Humphrey feared him as a rival, but at any rate
he seems to have kept him almost a prisoner of state. The Guiscard
gained the votes of the people before long, when the count died and
left only some young children, and in 1054 he was made Count of Apulia
and general of the republic. We need not be surprised to find his
title much lengthened a little later; he demanded the ducal title
itself from Pope Nicholas, and styles himself "by the grace of God
and St. Peter, Duke of Apulia, Calabria, and hereafter of Sicily."
The medical and philosophical schools of Salerno, long renowned in
Italy, added lustre to his kingdom, and [Pg143] the trade of Amalfi,
the earliest of the Italian commercial cities, extending to Africa,
Arabia, India, with affiliated colonies in Constantinople, Antioch,
Jerusalem, and Alexandria, enriched his ample domain. Excelling in
the art of navigation, Amalfi is said to have discovered the compass.
Under her Norman dukes, she held the position of the queen of Italian
commerce, until the rise of the more famous cities of Pisa, Genoa, and
Venice.[3]
[3] A. H. Johnson: "The Normans in Europe."
Roger de Hauteville, the youngest brother of all, who was much like
Robert in every way, was the conqueror of Sicily, and the expedition
was piously called a crusade against the unbelievers. It was thirty
years before the rich island was added to the jurisdiction of Rome,
from which the Mussulmans had taken it. Roger was given the title
of count, but his dominion was on a feudal basis instead of being a
republic. This success induced Robert to make a campaign against the
Eastern empire, and the invasions continued as long as he lived. They
were not very successful in themselves, but they were influential in
bringing about great changes. The first crusade was an outcome of
these plans of Robert's, and all the altered relations of the East and
West for years afterward.
We must go far ahead of the slow pace of our story of the Normans
in Normandy and England to give this brief sketch of the Southern
dukedoms. The story of the de Hautevilles is only another example
of Norman daring and enterprise. The spirit of adventure, of
conquest, of government, of chivalry, and personal [Pg144] ambition
shines in every page of it, and as time goes on we watch with joy
a partial fading out of the worse characteristics of cruelty and
avarice and trickery, of vanity and jealous revenge. "Progress in
good government," says Mr. Green in his preface to A Short History
of England, "is the result of social developments." The more we all
think about that, the better for us and for our country. No doubt the
traditions of Hasting the Northman and his barbarous piracies had
hardly died out before the later Normans came, first in scattered
groups, and then in legions, to settle in Italy. One cannot help
feeling that they did much to make amends for the bad deeds of their
ancestors. The south of Italy and the Sicilian kingdom of Roger were
under a wiser and more tolerant rule than any government of their
day, and Greeks, Normans, and Italians lived together in harmony and
peace that was elsewhere unknown. The people were industrious, and all
sorts of trades flourished, especially the silk manufacture. Perhaps
the soft air and easy, luxurious fashion of life quieted the Norman
restlessness a little. Who can tell?
Yet we get a hint of a better explanation of the prosperity of the two
Sicilies in this passage from an old chronicle about King Roger: "He
was a lover of justice and most severe avenger of crime. He abhorred
lying; did every thing by rule, and never promised what he did not
mean to perform. He never persecuted his private enemies, and in war
endeavored on all occasions to gain his point without shedding of
blood. Justice and peace were universally observed throughout his
dominions." [Pg145]
A more detailed account of the reigns of the De Hautevilles will be
found in the "Story of Sicily," but before this brief review of their
conquests is ended, it is only fair to notice the existing monuments
of Norman rule. The remains of Norman architecture, dating back to
their time, may still be seen in Palermo and other cities, and give
them a romantic interest. There are ruins of monasteries and convents
almost without number, and many churches still exist, though sometimes
more or less defaced by modern additions and ignorant restoration. The
Normans raised the standard of Western forms of architecture here as
they did elsewhere, and their simpler buildings make an interesting
contrast with Eastern types left by the Saracens. Outside the large
cities almost every little town has at least some fragments of Norman
masonry, and in Aderno—to note only one instance of the sort—there is
a fine Norman castle in excellent preservation, which is used as a
prison now. At Troina, a dreary mountain fortress, there is a belfry
and part of the wall of a cathedral that Roger I. built in 1078. It
was in Troina that he and his wife bravely established their court
fifteen years earlier, and withstood a four months' siege from the
Saracens. Galfridus, an old chronicler, tells sadly that the young
rulers only had one cloak between them, and grew very hungry and
miserable; but Eremburga, the wife, was uncomplaining and patient.
At last the count was so distressed by the sight of her pallor and
evident suffering, that he rallied his men and made a desperate
charge upon his foes, and was happily [Pg146] victorious. Galfridus
says of that day: "The single hand of Roger, with God's help, did
such execution that the corpses of the enemy lay around him on every
side like the branches of trees in a thick forest when strewn by a
tempest." Once afterward, when Roger was away fighting in Calabria,
Eremburga was formally left in command, and used to make the round
with the sentinels on the walls every night.