over his new subjects by converting them to Christianity in the
wholesale way in which this work was then usually performed. The Saxons
were baptized in large numbers, the proselyting method pursued being, as
we are told, that all prisoners of war _must_ be baptized, while of the
others all who were reasonable _would_ be baptized, and the inveterately
unreasonable might be _bribed_ to be baptized. Doubtless, as a historian
remarks, the Saxons found baptism a cool, cleanly, and agreeable
ceremony, while their immersion in the water had little effect in
washing out their old ideas and washing in new ones.
The exigencies of war in his vast empire now called Charlemagne to
Spain, where the Arabs had become troublesome and needed chastisement.
Not far had he marched away when Wittekind was again in Saxony, passing
from tribe to tribe through the forests of the land, and with fiery
eloquence calling upon his countrymen to rise against the invaders and
regain the freedom of which they had been deprived. Heedless of their
conversion, disregarding their oaths of allegiance, filled with the
free spirit which had so long inspired them, the chiefs and people
listened with approval to his burning words, seized their arms, and flew
again to war. The priests were expelled from the country, the churches
they had built demolished, the castles erected by the Frank monarch
taken and destroyed, and the country was laid waste up to the walls of
Cologne, its Christian inhabitants being exterminated.
But unyielding as Wittekind was, his great antagonist was equally
resolute and persistent. When he had finished his work with the Arabs,
he returned to Saxony with his whole army, fought a battle in 779 in the
dry bed of the Eder, and in 780 defeated Wittekind and his followers in
two great battles, completely disorganizing and discouraging the Saxon
bands, and again bringing the whole country under his control. This
accomplished, he stationed himself in their country, built numerous
fortresses upon the Elbe, and spent the summer of 780 in missionary
work, gaining a multitude of converts among the seemingly subdued
barbarians. The better to make them content with his rule he treated
them with great kindness and affability, and sent among them
missionaries of their own race, being the hostages whom he had taken in
previous years, and who had been educated in monasteries. All went well,
the Saxons were to all appearance in a state of peaceful satisfaction,
and Charles felicitated himself that he had finally added Saxony to his
empire.
He deceived himself sadly. He did not know the spirit of the free-born
Saxons, or the unyielding perseverance of their patriotic leader. In the
silent depths of their forests, and in the name of their ancient gods,
they vowed destruction to the invading Franks, and branded as traitors
all those who professed Christianity except as a stratagem to deceive
their powerful enemy. Entertaining no suspicion of the true state of
affairs, Charlemagne at length left the country, which he fancied to be
fully pacified and its people content. With complete confidence in his
new subjects, he commissioned his generals, Geil and Adalgis, to march
upon the Slavonians beyond the Elbe, who were threatening France with a
new barbarian invasion.
They soon learned that there was other work to do. In a brief time the
irrepressible Wittekind was in the field again, with a new levy of
Saxons at his back, and the tranquillity of the land, established at
such pains, was once more in peril. Theoderic, one of Charlemagne's
principal generals, hastily marched towards them with what men he could
raise, and on his way met the army sent to repel the Slavonians. They
approached the Saxon host where it lay encamped on the Weser, behind the
Sundel mountain, and laid plans to attack it on both sides at once. But
jealousy ruined these plans, as it has many other well-laid schemes. The
leaders of the Slavonian contingent, eager to rob Theoderic of glory,
marched in haste on the Saxons, attacked them in their camp, and were so
completely defeated and overthrown that but a moity of their army
escaped from the field. The appearance of these fugitives in the camp of
Theoderic was the first he knew of the treachery of his fellow generals
and their signal punishment.
The story of this dreadful event was in all haste borne to Charlemagne.
His army had been destroyed almost as completely as that of Varus on a
former occasion, and in nearly the same country. The distressing tidings
filled his soul with rage and a bitter thirst for revenge. He had done
his utmost to win over the Saxons by lenity and kindness, but this
course now seemed to him useless, if not worse than useless. He
determined to adopt opposite measures and try the effect of cruelty and
severe retribution. Calling together his forces until he had a great
army under his command, he marched into Saxony torch and sword in hand,
and swept the country with fire and steel. All who would not embrace
Christianity were pitilessly exterminated. Thousands were driven into
the rivers to be baptized or drowned. Carnage, desolation, and
destruction marked the path of the conqueror. Never had a country been
more frightfully devastated by the hand of war.
All who were concerned in the rebellion were seized, so far as Charles
could lay hands on them. When questioned, they lay all the blame on
Wittekind. He was the culprit, they but his instruments. But Wittekind
had vanished, the protesting chiefs and people were in the conqueror's
hands, and, bent on making an awful example, he had no less than four
thousand five hundred of them beheaded in one day. It was a frightful
act of vengeance, which has ever since remained an ineradicable blot on
the memory of the great king.
[Illustration: THE BAPTISM OF WITTEKIND.]
Its effect was what might have been anticipated. Instead of filling the
Saxons with terror, it inspired them with revengeful fury. They rose as
one man, Wittekind and Alboin at their head, and attacked the French
with a fury such as they had never before displayed. The remorseless
cruelty with which they had been treated was repaid in the blood of the
invaders, and in the many petty combats that took place the hardy and
infuriated barbarians proved invincible against their opponents. Even in
a pitched battle, fought at Detmold, in which Wittekind led the Saxons
against the superior forces of Charlemagne, they held their own against
all his strength and generalship, and the victory remained undecided.
But they were again brought to battle upon the Hase, and now the
superior skill and more numerous army of the great conqueror prevailed.
The Saxons were defeated with great slaughter, and the French advanced
as far as the Elbe. The war continued during the succeeding year, by the
end of which the Saxons had become so reduced in strength that further
efforts at resistance would have been madness.
The cruelty which Charlemagne had displayed, and which had proved so
signally useless, was now replaced by a mildness much more in conformity
with his general character; and the Saxons, exhausted with their
struggles, and attracted by the gentleness with which he treated them,
showed a general disposition to submit. But Wittekind and his
fellow-chieftain Alboin were still at large, and the astute conqueror
well knew that there was no security in his new conquest unless they
could be brought over. He accordingly opened negotiations with them,
requesting a personal conference, and pledging his royal word that they
should be dealt with in all faith and honesty. The Saxon chiefs,
however, were not inclined to put themselves in the power of a king
against whom they had so long and desperately fought without stronger
pledge than his bare word. They demanded hostages. Charlemagne, who
fully appreciated the value of their friendship and submission, freely
acceded to their terms, sent hostages, and was gratified by having the
indomitable chiefs enter his palace at Paderborn.
Wittekind was well aware that his mission as a Saxon leader was at an
end. The country was subdued, its warriors slain, terrorized, or won
over, and his single hand could not keep up the war with France. He,
therefore, swore fealty to Charlemagne, freely consented to become a
Christian, and was, with his companion, baptized at Attigny in France.
The emperor stood his sponsor in baptism, received him out of the font,
loaded him with royal gifts, and sent him back with the title of Duke of
Saxony, which he held as a vassal of France. Henceforward he seems to
have observed good faith to Charlemagne, for his name now vanishes from
history, silence in this case being a pledge of honor and peacefulness.
But if history here lays him down, legend takes him up, and yields us a
number of stories concerning him not one of which has any evidence to
sustain it, but which are curious enough to be worth repeating. It gives
us, for instance, a far more romantic account of his conversion than
that above told. This relates that, in the Easter season of 785,--the
year of his conversion,--Wittekind stole into the French camp in the
garb of a minstrel or a mendicant, and, while cautiously traversing it,
bent on spying out its weaknesses, was attracted to a large tent within
which Charlemagne was attending the service of the mass. Led by an
irresistible impulse, the pagan entered the tent, and stood gazing in
spellbound wonder at the ceremony, marvelling what the strange and
impressive performance meant. As the priest elevated the host, the
chief, with astounded eyes, beheld in it the image of a child, of
dazzling and unearthly beauty. He could not conceal his surprise from
those around him, some of whom recognized in the seeming beggar the
great Saxon leader, and took him to the emperor. Wittekind told
Charlemagne of his vision, begged to be made a Christian, and brought
over many of his countrymen to the fold of the true church by the
shining example of his conversion.
Legend goes on to tell us that he became a Christian of such hot zeal
as to exact a bloody atonement from the Frisians for their murder of
Boniface and his fellow-priests a generation before. It further tells us
that he founded a church at Enger, in Westphalia, was murdered by
Gerold, Duke of Swabia, and was buried in the church he had founded, and
in which his tomb was long shown. In truth, the people came to honor him
as a saint, and though there is no record of his canonization, a saint's
day, January 7, is given him, and we are told of miracles performed at
his tomb.
So much for the dealings of Christian legend with this somewhat
unsaintly personage. Secular legend, for it is probably little more, has
contented itself with tracing his posterity, several families of Germany
deriving their descent from him, while he is held to have been the
ancestor of the imperial house of the Othos. Some French genealogists go
so far as to trace the descent of Hugh Capet to this hero of the Saxon
woods. In truth, he has been made to some extent the Roland or the
Arthur of Saxony, though fancy has not gone so far in his case as in
that of the French paladin and the Welsh hero of knight-errantry, for,
though he and his predecessor Hermann became favorite characters in
German ballad and legend, the romance heroes of that land continued to
be the mythical Siegfried and his partly fabulous, partly historical
companions of the epical song of the Nibelung.
_THE RAIDS OF THE SEA-ROVERS._
While Central and Southern Europe was actively engaged in wars by land,
Scandinavia, that nest of pirates, was as actively engaged in wars by
sea, sending its armed galleys far to the south, to plunder and burn
wherever they could find footing on shore. Not content with plundering
the coasts, they made their way up the streams, and often suddenly
appeared far inland before an alarm could be given. Wherever they went,
heaps of the dead and the smoking ruins of habitations marked their
ruthless course. They did not hesitate to attack fortified cities,
several of which fell into their hands and were destroyed. They always
fought on foot, but such was their strength, boldness, and activity that
the heavy-armed cavalry of France and Germany seemed unable to endure
their assault, and was frequently put to flight. If defeated, or in
danger of defeat, they hastened back to their ships, from which they
rarely ventured far and rowed away with such speed that pursuit was in
vain. For a long period they kept the Atlantic and Mediterranean coasts
of Europe in such terror that prayers were publicly read in the churches
for deliverance from them, and the sight of their dragon beaked ships
filled the land with terror.
In 845 a party of them assailed and took Paris, from which they were
bought off by the cowardly and ineffective method of ransom, seven
thousand pounds of silver being paid them. In 853 another expedition,
led by a leader named Hasting, one of the most dreaded of the Norsemen,
again took Paris, marched into Burgundy, laying waste the country as he
advanced, and finally took Tours, to which city much treasure had been
carried for safe-keeping. Charles the Bald, who had bought off the
former expedition with silver, bought off this one with gold, offering
the bold adventurer a bribe of six hundred and eighty-five pounds of the
precious metal, to which he added a ton and a half of silver, to leave
the country.
From France, Hasting set sail for Italy, where his ferocity was aided by
a cunning which gives us a deeper insight into his character. Rome, a
famous but mystical city to the northern pagans, whose imaginations
invested it with untold wealth and splendor, was the proposed goal of
the enterprising Norseman, who hoped to make himself fabulously wealthy
from its plunder. With a hundred ships, filled with hardy Norse pirates,
he swept through the Strait of Gibraltar and along the coasts of Spain
and France, plundering as he went till he reached the harbor of Lucca,
Italy.
As to where and what Rome was, the unlettered heathen had but the
dimmest conception. Here before him lay what seemed a great and rich
city, strongly fortified and thickly peopled. This must be Rome, he told
himself; behind those lofty walls lay the wealth which he so earnestly
craved; but how could it be obtained? Assault on those strong
fortifications would waste time, and perhaps end in defeat. If the city
could be won by stratagem, so much the better for himself and his men.
The shrewd Norseman quickly devised a promising plan within the depths
of his astute brain. It was the Christmas season, and the inhabitants
were engaged in the celebration of the Christmas festival, though,
doubtless, sorely troubled in mind by that swarm of strange-shaped
vessels in their harbor, with their stalwart crews of blue-eyed
plunderers.
Word was sent to the authorities of the city that the fleet had come
thither from no hostile intent, and that all the mariners wished was to
obtain the favor of an honorable burial-place for their chieftain, who
had just died. If the citizens would grant them this, they would engage
to depart after the funeral without injury to their courteous and
benevolent friends. The message--probably not expressed in quite the
above phrase--was received in good faith by the unsuspecting Lombards,
who were glad enough to get rid of their dangerous visitors on such
cheap terms, and gratified to learn that these fierce pagans wished
Christian burial for their chief. Word was accordingly sent to the ships
that the authorities granted their request, and were pleased with the
opportunity to oblige the mourning crews.
Not long afterwards a solemn procession left the fleet, a coffin, draped
in solemn black, at its head, borne by strong carriers. As mourners
there followed a large deputation of stalwart Norsemen, seemingly
unarmed, and to all appearance lost in grief. With slow steps they
entered the gates and moved through the streets of the city, chanting
the death-song of the great Hasting, until the church was reached, and
they had advanced along its crowded aisle to the altar, where stood the
priests ready to officiate at the obsequies of the expired freebooter.
The coffin was set upon the floor, and the priests were about to break
into the solemn chant for the dead, when suddenly, to the surprise and
horror of the worshippers, the supposed corpse sprang to life, leaped up
sword in hand, and with a fierce and deadly blow struck the officiating
bishop to the heart. Instantly the seeming mourners, who had been chosen
from the best warriors of the fleet, flung aside their cloaks and
grasped their arms, and a carnival of death began in that crowded
church.
It was not slaughter, however, that Hasting wanted, but plunder. Rushing
from the church, the Norsemen assailed the city, looting with free hand,
and cutting down all who came in their way. No long time was needed by
the skilful freebooters for this task, and before the citizens could
recover from the mortal terror into which they had been thrown, the
pagan plunderers were off again for their ships, laden with spoil, and
taking with them as captives a throng of women and maidens, the most
beautiful they could find.
This daring affair had a barbarous sequel. A storm arising which
threatened the loss of his ships, the brutal Hasting gave orders that
the vessels should be lightened by throwing overboard plunder and
captives alike. Saved by this radical method, the sea-rovers quickly
repaid themselves for their losses by sailing up the Rhone, and laying
the country waste through many miles of Southern France.
The end of this phase of Hasting's career was a singular one. In the
year 860 he consented to be baptized as a Christian, and to swear
allegiance to Charles the Bald of France, on condition of receiving the
title of Count of Chartres, with a suitable domain. It was a wiser
method of disarming a redoubtable enemy than that of ransoming the land,
which Charles had practised with Hasting on a previous occasion. He had
converted a foe into a subject, upon whom he might count for defence
against those fierce heathen whom he had so often led to battle.
While France, England, and the Mediterranean regions formed the favorite
visiting ground of the Norsemen, they did not fail to pay their respects
in some measure to Germany, and during the ninth century, their period
of most destructive activity, the latter country suffered considerably
from their piratical ravages. Two German warriors who undertook to guard
the coasts against their incursions are worthy of mention. One of these,
Baldwin of the Iron Arm, Count of Flanders, distinguished himself by
seducing Judith, daughter of Charles the Bald of France, who, young as
she was, was already the widow of two English kings, Ethelwolf and his
son Ethelbold. Charles was at first greatly enraged, but afterwards
accepted Baldwin as his son-in-law, and made him lord of the district.
The second was Robert the Strong, Count of Maine, a valiant defender of
the country against the sea-kings. He was slain in a bloody battle with
them, near Anvers, in 866. This distinguished warrior was the ancestor
of Hugh Capet, afterwards king of France.
For some time after his death the Norsemen avoided Germany, paying their
attentions to England, where Alfred the Great was on the throne. About
880 their incursions began again, and though they were several times
defeated with severe slaughter, new swarms followed the old ones, and
year by year fresh fleets invaded the land, leaving ruin in their paths.
Up the rivers they sailed, as in France, taking cities, devastating the
country, doing more damage each year than could be repaired in a decade.
Aix-la-Chapelle, the imperial city of the mighty Charlemagne, fell into
their hands, and the palace of the great Charles, in little more than
half a century after his death, was converted by these marauders into a
stable. Well might the far-seeing emperor have predicted sorrow and
trouble for the land from these sea-rovers, as he is said to have done,
on seeing their many-oared ships from a distance. Yet even his foresight
could scarcely have imagined that, before he was seventy years in the
grave, the vikings of the north would be stabling their horses in the
most splendid of his palaces.
The rovers attacked Metz, and Bishop Wala fell while bravely fighting
them before its gates. City after city on the Rhine was taken and burned
to the ground. The whole country between Liège, Cologne, and Mayence was
so ravaged as to be almost converted into a desert. The besom of
destruction, in the hands of the sea-kings, threatened to sweep Germany
from end to end, as it had swept the greater part of France.
The impunity with which they raided the country was due in great part to
the indolent character of the monarch. Charles the Fat, as he was
entitled, who had the ambitious project of restoring the empire of
Charlemagne, and succeeded in combining France and Germany under his
sceptre, proved unable to protect his realm from the pirate rovers. Like
his predecessor, Charles the Bald of France, he tried the magic power of
gold and silver, as a more effective argument than sharpened steel, to
rid him of these marauders. Siegfried, their principal leader, was
bought off with two thousand pounds of gold and twelve thousand pounds
of silver, to raise which sum Charles seized all the treasures of the
churches. In consideration of this great bribe the sea-rover consented
to a truce for twelve years. His brother Gottfried was bought off in a
different method, being made Duke of Friesland and vassal of the
emperor.
These concessions, however, did not put an end to the depredations of
the Norsemen. There were other leaders than the two formidable brothers,
and other pirates than those under their control, and the country was
soon again invaded, a strong party advancing as far as the Moselle,
where they took and destroyed the city of Treves. This marauding band,
however, dearly paid for its depredations. While advancing through the
forest of Ardennes, it was ambushed and assailed by a furious multitude
of peasants and charcoal-burners, before whose weapons ten thousand of
the Norsemen fell in death.
This revengeful act of the peasantry was followed by a treacherous deed
of the emperor, which brought renewed trouble upon the land. Eager to
rid himself of his powerful and troublesome vassal in Friesland, Charles
invited Gottfried to a meeting, at which he had the Norsemen
treacherously murdered, while his brother-in-law Hugo was deprived of
his sight. It was an act sure to bring a bloody reprisal. No sooner had
news of it reached the Scandinavian north than a fire of revengeful rage
swept through the land, and from every port a throng of oared galleys
put to sea, bent upon bloody retribution. Soon in immense hordes they
fell upon the imperial realm, forcing their way in mighty hosts up the
Rhine, the Maese, and the Seine, and washing out the memory of
Gottfried's murder in torrents of blood, while the brand spread ruin far
and wide.
The chief attack was made on Paris, which the Norsemen invested and
besieged for a year and a half. The march upon Paris was made by sea and
land, the marauders making Rouen their place of rendezvous. From this
centre of operations Rollo--the future conqueror and Duke of Normandy,
now a formidable sea-king--led an overland force towards the French
capital, and on his way was met by an envoy from the emperor, no less a
personage than the Count of Chartres, the once redoubtable Hasting, now
a noble of the empire.
"Valiant sirs," he said to Rollo and his chiefs, "who are you that come
hither, and why have you come?"
"We are Danes," answered Rollo, proudly; "all of us equals, no man the
lord of any other, but lords of all besides. We are come to punish these
people and take their lands. And you, by what name are you called?"
"Have you not heard of a certain Hasting," was the reply, "a sea-king
who left your land with a multitude of ships, and turned into a desert a
great part of this fair land of France?"
"We have heard of him," said Rollo, curtly. "He began well and ended
badly."
"Will you submit to King Charles?" asked the envoy, deeming it wise,
perhaps, to change the subject.
"We will submit to no one, king or chieftain. All that we gain by the
sword we are masters and lords of. This you may tell to the king who has
sent you. The lords of the sea know no masters on land."