and beside the churches and palaces, for the tombs of the kings and
archbishops in San Rosario Cathedral. There lies Roger himself,
"mighty Duke and first King of Sicily." Mr. Symonds says[4]: "Very
sombre and stately are these porphyry resting-places of princes born
in the purple, assembled here from lands so distant, from the craggy
heights of Hohenstauffen, from the green orchards of Côtentin, from
the dry hills of Aragon. They sleep and the centuries pass by. Rude
hands break open the granite lids of their sepulchres to find tresses
of yellow hair, and fragments of imperial mantles embroidered with
the hawks and stags the royal hunter loved. The church in which they
lie changes with the change of taste in architecture and the manners
of successive ages. But the huge stone arks remain unmoved, guarding
their freight of mouldering dust beneath gloomy canopies of stone,
that tempers the sunlight as it streams from the chapel windows."
[4] "Studies in Southern Italy."
And again at Venosa, the little town where the poet Horace was born,
and where William de Hauteville with his brothers Drogo, Humphrey,
and [Pg147] Robert Guiscard are buried, we cannot do better than
quote the same charming writer:
"No chapter of history more resembles a romance than that which
records the sudden rise and brief splendor of the house of Hauteville.
In one generation the sons of Tancred de Hauteville passed from the
condition of squires in the Norman vale of Côtentin to Kinghood in
the richest island of the Southern Sea. The Norse adventurers became
sultans of an Oriental capital. The sea-robbers assumed, together
with the sceptre, the culture of an Arabian court ... lived to mate
their daughters with princes and to sway the politics of Europe with
gold.... What they wrought, whether wisely or not, for the ultimate
advantage of Italy, endures to this day, while the work of so many
emperors, republics, and princes, has passed and shifted like the
scenes in a pantomime. Through them the Greeks, the Lombards, and
the Moors were extinguished in the South. The Papacy was checked
in its attempt to found a province of St. Peter below the Tiber.
The republics of Naples, Caëta, Amalfi, which might have rivalled
perchance with Milan, Genoa, and Florence, were subdued to a master's
hand. In short, to the Norman, Italy owed that kingdom of the two
Sicilies, which formed one third of her political balance; and which
proved the cause of all her most serious revolutions."
Much has been lost of the detailed history of the Norman-Italian
states, and lost especially to English literature. If the development
of Southern Italy [Pg148] had gone steadily forward to this time,
with the eagerness and gathering force that might have been expected
from that vigorous impulse of the eleventh century, no doubt there
would have been a permanent factor in history rather than a limited
episode. The danger of the climate, to those born and reared in
Northern or Western Europe, was undoubtedly in the way of any
long-continued progress. To-day the Norman buildings look strangely
different from their surroundings, and are almost the only evidence
of the once brilliant and prosperous government of the Normans in the
South. One enthusiastic historian, who wrote before the glories of
the de Hautevilles had faded, would have us believe that "there was
more security in the thickets of Sicily than in the cities of other
kingdoms."
[Illustration]
[Pg149]
[Illustration]
VIII.
THE YOUTH OF WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR.
"One equal temper of heroic hearts
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."
—TENNYSON.
There was one man, famous in history, who more than any other
Norman seemed to personify his race, to be the type of the Norman
progressiveness, firmness, and daring. He was not only remarkable
among his countrymen, but we are forced to call him one of the great
men and great rulers of the world. Nobody has been more masterful,
to use a good old Saxon word, and therefore he came to be master
of a powerful, venturesome race of people and gathered wealth and
widespread territory. Every thing would have slipped through his
fingers before he was grown to manhood if his grasp had not been like
steel and his quickness and bravery equal to every test. "He was born
to be resisted," says one writer;[5] "to excite men's jealousy and to
awaken their life-long animosity, only to rise triumphant above them
all, and to show to mankind the work that one man can do—one man of
fixed principles and resolute [Pg150] will, who marks out a certain
goal for himself, and will not be deterred, but marches steadily
towards it with firm and ruthless step. He was a man to be feared and
respected, but never to be loved; chosen, it would seem, by Providence
... to upset our foregone conclusions, and while opposing and crushing
popular heroes and national sympathies, to teach us that in the
progress of nations there is something required beyond popularity,
something beyond mere purity and beauty of character—namely, the mind
to conceive and the force of will to carry out great schemes and to
reorganize the failing institutions and political life of states. Born
a bastard, with no title to his dukedom but the will of his father;
left a minor with few friends and many enemies, with rival competition
at home and a jealous over-lord only too glad to see the power of his
proud vassal humbled, he gradually fights his way, gains his dukedom,
and overcomes competition at an age when most of us are still under
tutors and governors; extends his dominions far beyond the limits
transmitted to him by his forefathers, and then leaves his native soil
to seek other conquests, to win another kingdom, over which again
he has no claim but the stammering will of a weak king and his own
irresistible energy, and what is still more strange, securing the
moral support of the world in his aggression, and winning for himself
the position of an aggrieved person recovering his just and undoubted
rights. Truly the Normans could have no better representative of their
extraordinary power."
[5] Johnson: "The Normans in Europe."
William was only seven years old or a little more [Pg151] when his
father left him to go on pilgrimage. No condition could have appeared
more pitiable and desperate than his—even in his childhood we become
conscious of the dislike his character inspired. Often just and true
to his agreements, sometimes unexpectedly lenient, nothing in his
nature made him a winner and holder of friendship, though he was a
leader of men and a controller of them, and an inspirer of faithful
loyalty besides the service rendered him for fear's sake. His was
the rule of force indeed, but there is one thing to be particularly
noted—that in a licentious, immoral age he grew up pure and
self-controlled. That he did not do some bad things must not make us
call him good, for a good man is one who does do good things. But his
strict fashion of life kept his head clearer and his hands stronger,
and made him wide-awake when other men were stupid, and so again and
again he was able to seize an advantage and possess himself of the key
to success.
While his father lived, the barons paid the young heir unwilling
respect, and there was a grim acquiescence in what could not be
helped. Alan of Brittany was faithful to his trust, and always
able to check any dissensions and plots against his ward. The old
animosity between him and Robert was quite forgotten, apparently;
but at last Alan was poisoned. Robert's death was the signal for a
general uprising of the nobles, and William's life was in peril for
a dozen years. He never did homage to the king of France, but for a
long time nobody did homage to him either; the barons disdained any
such [Pg152] allegiance, and sometimes appear to have forgotten their
young duke altogether in their bitter quarrels, and murders of men of
their own rank. We trace William de Talvas, still the bastard's fierce
enemy, through many plots and quarrels;—it appears as if he were
determined that his curse should come true, and made it the purpose
of his life. The houses of Montgomery and Beaumont were linked with
him in anarchy and treachery; it was the Montgomeries' deadly mischief
to which the faithful Alan fell victim. William himself escaped
assassination by a chance, and several of his young followers were
not so fortunate. They were all in the strong castle of Vaudreuil, a
place familiar to the descendants of Longsword, since it was the home
of Sperling, the rich miller, whom Espriota married. The history of
the fortress had been a history of crime, but Duke Robert was ready to
risk the bad name for which it was famous, and trust his boy to its
shelter. There had never been a blacker deed done within those walls
than when William was only twelve years old, and one of his playmates,
who slept in his chamber, was stabbed as he lay asleep. No doubt the
Montgomery who struck the cruel blow thought that he had killed the
young duke, and went away well satisfied; but William was rescued, and
carried away and hidden in a peasant's cottage, while the butchery
of his friends and attendants still went on. The whole country
swarmed with his enemies. The population of the Côtentin, always more
Scandinavian than French, welcomed the possibility of independence,
and the worst side of feudalism began to assert itself [Pg153]
boldly. Man against man, high rank against low rank, farmer against
soldier,—the bloody quarrels increased more and more, and devastated
like some horrible epidemic.
[Illustration: A NORMAN PLOUGHMAN.]
There were causes enough for trouble in the state of feudalism itself
to account for most of the uproar and disorder, let alone the claim
of the unwelcome young heir to the dukedom. It is very interesting
to see how, in public sentiment, there was always an undertone of
resentment to the feudal system, and of loyalty to the idea, at least,
of hereditary monarchy. Even Hugh the Great, of France, was governed
by it in his indifference to his good chances for seizing the crown
years before this time; and though the great empire of Charlemagne had
long since tottered to its fall and dismemberment, there [Pg154] was
still much respect for the stability and order of an ideal monarchical
government.
The French people had already endured some terrible trials, but it was
not because of war and trouble alone that they hated their rulers,
for these sometimes leave better things behind them; war and trouble
are often the only way to peace and quietness. They feared the very
nature of feudalism and its political power. It seemed to hold them
fast, and make them slaves and prisoners with its tangled network and
clogging weights. The feudal lords were petty sovereigns and minor
despots, who had certain bonds and allegiances among themselves and
with each other, but they were, at the same time, absolute masters of
their own domain, and their subjects, whether few or many, were under
direct control and surveillance. Under the great absolute monarchies,
the very extent of the population and of the country would give a
greater security and less disturbance of the middle and lower classes,
for a large army could be drafted, and still there would be a certain
lack of responsibility for a large percentage of the subjects. Under
the feudal system there were no such chances; the lords were always
at war, and kept a painfully strict account of their resources. Every
field and every family must play a part in the enterprises of their
master, and a continual racking and robbing went on. Even if the lord
of a domain had no personal quarrel to settle, he was likely to be
called upon by his upholder and ally to take part with him against
another. In the government of a senate or an ecclesiastical council,
the common people [Pg155] were governed less capriciously; their
favor was often sought, even in those days, by the different factions
who had ends to gain, and were willing to grant favors in return; but
the feudal lords were quite independent, and could do as they pleased
without asking anybody's advice or consent.
This concerns the relation of the serfs to their lords, but among the
lords themselves affairs were quite different. From the intricate
formalities of obligation and dependence, from the necessity for
each feudal despot's vigilant watchfulness and careful preparation
and self-control and quick-sighted decision, arose a most active,
well-developed class of nobles. While the master of a feudal castle
(or robber-stronghold, whichever we choose to call it) was absent on
his forays, or more determined wars, his wife took his place, and
ruled her dependents and her household with ability. The Norman women
of the higher classes were already famous far and wide through Europe,
and, since we are dealing with the fortunes of Normandy, we like to
picture them in their castle-halls in all their dignity and authority,
and to imagine their spirited faces, and the beauty which is always a
power, and which some of them had learned already to make a power for
good.
No matter how much we deplore the condition of Normandy and the lower
classes of society, and sympathize with the wistfulness and enforced
patience of the peasantry; no matter how perplexed we are at the
slowness of development in certain directions, we are attracted and
delighted by other aspects. We turn our heads quickly at the sound
of [Pg156] martial music. The very blood thrills and leaps along
our veins as we watch the Norman knights ride by along the dusty
Roman roads. The spears shine in the sunlight, the horses prance, the
robber-castles clench their teeth and look down from the hills as if
they were grim stone monsters lying in wait for prey. The apple-trees
are in blossom, and the children scramble out of the horses' way;
the flower of chivalry is out parading, and in clanking armor, with
flaunting banners and crosses on their shields, the knights ride by
to the defence of Jerusalem. Knighthood was in its early prime, and
in this gay, romantic fashion, with tender songs to the ladies they
loved and gallantly defended, with a prayer to the Virgin Mary, their
patroness, because they reverenced the honor and purity of womanhood,
they fought through many a fierce fight, with the bitter, steadfast
courage of brave men whose heart is in their cause. It was an easy
step from their defiance of the foes of Normandy to the defence of
the Church of God. Religion itself was the suggester and promoter
of chivalry, and the Normans forgot their lesser quarrels and petty
grievances when the mother church held up her wrongs and sufferings
to their sympathy. It was to Christianity that the mediæval times
owed knighthood, and, while historians complain of the lawlessness of
the age, the crimes and violence, the social confusion and vulgarity,
still the poetry and austerity and real beauty of the knightly
traditions shine out all the brighter. Men had got hold of some new
suggestions; the best of them were examples of something better than
[Pg157] the world had ever known. As we glance over the list of rules
to which a knight was obliged to subscribe, we cannot help rejoicing
at the new ideal of christian manhood.
[Illustration: ARMING A KNIGHT.]
Rolf the Ganger had been proud rather than ashamed of his brutal
ferocity and selfishness. This new standard demands as good soldiery
as ever; in fact, a greater daring and utter absence of fear, but it
recognizes the rights of other people, and the single-heartedness and
tenderness of moral strength. It is a very high ideal.
A little later than the time of William the Conqueror's youth, there
were formal ceremonies at the making of a knight, and these united
so surprisingly the poet's imaginary knighthood and the customs of
military life and obligations of religious life, that we cannot wonder
at their influence. [Pg158]
The young man was first stripped of his clothes and put into a bath,
to wash all former contaminations from body and soul—a typical second
baptism, done by his own free will and desire. Afterward, he was
clothed first in a white tunic, to symbolize his purity; next in a red
robe, a sign of the blood he must be ready to shed in defending the
cause of Christ; and over these garments was put a tight black gown,
to represent the mystery of death which must be solved at last by him,
and every man.
Then the black-robed candidate was left alone to fast and pray for
twenty-four hours, and when evening came, they led him to the church
to pray all night long, either by himself, or with a priest and his
own knightly sponsors for companions. Next day he made confession;
then the priest gave him the sacrament, and afterward he went to hear
mass and a sermon about his new life and a knight's duties. When this
was over, a sword was hung around his neck and he went to the altar,
where the priest took off the sword, blessed it, and put it on again.
Then the candidate went to kneel before the lord who was to arm him,
and was questioned strictly about his reasons for becoming a knight,
and was warned that he must not desire to be rich or to take his ease,
or to gain honor from knighthood without doing it honor; at last the
young man solemnly promised to do his duty, and his over-lord to whom
he did homage granted his request to be made a knight.
After this the knights and ladies dressed him in his new garments, and
the spurs came first of all the armor, then the haubert or coat of
mail; next [Pg159] the cuirass, the armlets, and gauntlets, and, last
of all, the sword. Now he was ready for the /accolade/; the over-lord
rose and went to him and gave him three blows with the flat of the
sword on his shoulder or neck, and sometimes a blow with the hand on
his breast, and said: "In the name of God, of St. Michael and St.
George, I make thee knight. Be valiant and fearless and loyal."
Then his horse was led in, and a helmet was put on the new knight's
head, and he mounted quickly and flourished his lance and sword,
and went out of the church to show himself to the people gathered
outside, and there was a great cheering, and prancing of horses, and
so the outward ceremony was over, and he was a dubbed knight, as the
old phrase has it—adopted knight would mean the same thing to-day;
he belonged to the great Christian brotherhood of chivalry. We have
seen how large a part religion played in the rites and ceremonies,
but we can get even a closer look at the spirit of knighthood if we
read some of the oaths that were taken by these young men, who were
the guardians and scholars of whatever makes for peace, even while
they chose the ways of war and did such eager, devoted work with
their swords. M. Guizot, from whose "History of France" I have taken
the greater part of this description, goes on to give twenty-six
articles to which the knights swore, not that these made a single
ritual, but were gathered from the accounts of different epochs. They
are so interesting, as showing the steady growth and development of
better ideas and purposes, that I copy them here. [Pg160] Indeed
we can hardly understand the later Norman history, and the crusades
particularly, unless we make the knights as clear to ourselves as we
tried to make the vikings.
We must thank the clergymen of the tenth and eleventh centuries for
this new thought about the duties and relationships of humanity,—men
like Abelard and St. Anselm, and the best of their contemporaries.
It is most interesting to see how the church availed herself of the
feudal bonds and sympathies of men, and their warlike sentiment and
organization, to develop a better and more peaceful service of God.
Truthfulness and justice and purity were taught by the church's
influence, and licentiousness and brutality faded out as the new order
of things gained strength and brightness. Later the pendulum swung
backward, and the church used all the terrors of tyranny, fire, and
sword, to further her ends and emphasize her authority, instead of the
authority of God's truth and the peace of heavenly living. The church
became a name and cover for the ambitions of men.
Whatever the pretences and mockeries and rivalries and thefts of
authority may be on the part of unworthy churchmen, we hardly need to
remind ourselves that in every age the true church exists, and that
true saints are living their holy, helpful lives, however shadowed
and concealed. Even if the harvest of grain in any year is called a
total loss, and the country never suffered so much before from dearth,
there is always enough wheat or corn to plant the next spring, and
the fewer handfuls the more [Pg161] precious it is sure to seem. In
this eleventh century, a century which in many ways was so disorderly
and cruel, we are always conscious of the presence of the "blameless
knights" who went boldly to the fight; the priests and monks of God
who hid themselves and prayed in cell and cloister. "It was feudal
knighthood and Christianity together," says Guizot, "which produced
the two great and glorious events of that time—the Norman conquest of
England, and the Crusades."
These were the knight's promises and oaths as Guizot repeats them,
and we shall get no harm from reading them carefully and trying to
keep them ourselves, even though all our battles are of another sort
and much duller fights against temptations. It must be said that our
enemies often come riding down upon us in as fine a way and break a
lance with us in as magnificent a fashion as in the days of the old
tournaments. But our contests are apt to be more like the ancient
encounters with cruel treachery of wild beasts in desert places, than
like those at the gay jousts, with all the shining knights and ladies
looking on to admire and praise.
The candidates swore: "First, to fear, reverence, and serve God
religiously, to fight for the faith with all their might, and to die a
thousand deaths rather than renounce Christianity;
To serve their sovereign prince faithfully, and to fight for him and
fatherland right valiantly;
To uphold the rights of the weaker, such as widows, orphans, and
damsels, in fair quarrel, exposing themselves on that account
according as need [Pg162] might be, provided it were not against
their own honor or against their king or lawful princes.
That they would not injure any one maliciously, or take what was
another's, but would rather do battle with those who did so.
That greed, pay, gain, or profit should never constrain them to do any
deed, but only glory and virtue.
That they would fight for the good and advantage of the common weal.
That they would be bound by and obey the orders of their generals and
captains, who had a right to command them.
That they would guard the honor, rank, and order of their comrades,
and that they would, neither by arrogance nor by force, commit any
trespass against any one of them.
That they would never fight in companies against one, and that they
would eschew all tricks and artifices.
That they would wear but one sword, unless they had to fight against
two or more enemies.
That in tourney or other sportive contests, they would never use the
point of their swords.
That being taken prisoner in a tourney, they would be bound on their
faith and honor to perform in every point the conditions of capture,
besides being bound to give up to the victors their arms and horses,
if it seemed good to take them, being also disabled from fighting in
war or elsewhere without their victor's leave.
That they would keep faith inviolably with all the [Pg163] world, and
especially with their comrades, upholding their honor and advantage
wholly in their absence.
That they would love and honor one another, and aid and succor one
another whenever occasion offered.
That having made vow or promise to go on any quest or adventure, they
would never put off their arms save for the night's rest.
That in pursuit of their quest or adventure, they would not shun bad
and perilous passes, nor turn aside from the straight road for fear of
encountering powerful knights, or monsters, or wild beasts, or other
hindrance, such as the body and courage of a single man might tackle.
That they would never take wage or pay from any foreign prince.
That in command of troops or men-at-arms, they would live in the
utmost possible order and discipline, and especially in their own
country, where they would never suffer any harm or violence to be done.
That if they were bound to escort dame or damsel, they would serve,
protect, and save her from all danger and insult, or die in the
attempt.
That they would never offer violence to any dame or damsel, though
they had won her by deeds of arms.