jwii i^|)i^^ P )i^ipp., ^^^ , .>t)t^i i ,,u.!4 P ^w g?ffapp|fip|i .-- r^-^-; U ■■ .■.,:... . *-.»1t.:mK-^ 19GS. A iiT-MTi i-Tia.rofl' raf e 14-2 SITCOUNIEB. :BEr,^7EEir A\TLT,TA7J THE CONQUEROR . ^J-TIjBI£ SOlTPvOBEB.!. ti^i-^ss m:^A iy:n.M^'M:Mrtm^n, ,^ TALES OP A GRANDFATHER, iTouvtii S^zxltH ; BEING STORIES TAKEN FROM THE HISTORY OF FRANCE. INSCRIBED TO MASTER JOHN HUGH LOCKHART. IN TWO VOLS. VOL. I. BY SIR WALTER SCOTT, AUTHOR OF " WAVERLEY," &C. &C. Sorter, M* 1§. PUBLISHED BY J. & B. WILLIAMS. 1833. TO MASTER JOHN HUGH LOCKHART. My Dear Boy, I MUST no longer treat you as a child ; so I now lay aside the pet appellation of Hugh Lit- tlejohn, Esq. and address you by your name. Heaven, at whose pleasure we receive good and evil — and we are bound to receive both with thanks and gratitude — has afflicted you from infancy with a delicacy of constitution. With this misfortune there are often connected tastes and habits the most valuable any man can ac- quire, but which are indispensable to those wha are liable, from indifferent health, to be occa- sionally confrned to the solitude of their own apartment. The hours you now employ in read- ing are passed happily, and render you inde- pendent of the society of others, but will yet prove far more valuable to you in futm-e life, since, if your studies are well directed, and earnestly pursued, there is nothing to prevent your rising to be at once an ornament and a benefit to society. It is with great pleasure, my dearest boy, that your parents remark in you Ofl^^p^. ^'^^OX^DO- early attention to your book, and a marked de- sire to profit by what you read ; nor can I, as one of the number, make a better use of a part of my leisure time than to dedicate it to your advantage and that of yom* contemporaries, who, I trust, will play the^ir parts honourably in the world, long after the generation to which your grandfather belongs has mouldered into earth. The volumes which I formerly inscribed re- lated to a part of Great Britain only : but it was to that portion which should be dear to us both, as the land of our fathers ; and I was therefore induced to descend more into particulars than I should have ventured upon in any other narra- tive. I have been assured from many quarters that the Tales from Scottish History have been found useful and interesting to the young per- sons to whom they were addressed, and that some even of those whose wild spirits and youth- ful years had hitherto left them little time or inclination to study, have been nevertheless cap- tivated by stories, which, w^hile they are ad- dressed to the imagination, are, at the same time, mstructive to the understanding. It would have been natural that I should next have adopted English history as my theme ; but there are so many excellent abridgments, that I willingly leave you to acquire a know^ledge of that important subject from other sources. The History of England, in Letters, said to be from a nobleman to his son, and sometimes called Lord Lyttelton's Letters, but in reality written or compiled by Dr. Oliver Goldsmith, gives the liveliest and best views of it ; to this you must, in due time, add the perusal of the many and interesting volumes which give a fuller account of the history of the more important part of our island of Britain. In the meantime, it is highly proper you should know something of the history of France, whose influence vipon the Continent of Europe has almost always been struggling and contend- ing with that of England herself, and with such obstinacy as to give rise to v/ars the most bloody by which the peace of the world has been at any period disturbed. I have, as you will observe, been occasionally called to interrupt the current of the work by remarks which the incidents demanded. Still, however, I have endeavoured to make amuse- ment the mode of introducing instruction ; re- membering always that I am no longer writing for the amusement of a child of five years, but composing a work to be submitted to the criti- cism of a young person who wears masculine garments, and will soon be nine years old. Un- der these increasing dilSiculties, it will give me pleasure to find that I still possess the power to interest and instruct you ; being, with warm regard, My dear John Hugh, Your very affectionate Grandfather, Walter Scott. Abbotsford, 29th July, 1830. 1* CONTENTS, P&ge CHAP. I. The most Patriotic States have been generally the most Ambitious — Aggressions of Rome upon the Indepen- dence of Foreign Nations — Gaul — its Description and Inhabitants — Their Religion — The Order of Druids — The Military Character of the Gauls — They invade Italy— and Greece — Their vicinity dangerous to Rome — Caesar appointed General in Gaul — Resolution of the Helvetiems to emigrate — The difficulties of their Route-.— Caesar blocks up the passage between Geneva and Mount Jm-a — Pursues the Helvetians as far as the Arar, and destroys their Rear-guard — At last, totally defeats them — The Germans cross the Rhine to invade Gaul — Their Character, Genius, and Manners — The Roman Soldiers mutiny, but are pacified by Caesar's Address — Ceesar de- feats Ariovistus and the Germans— Conquest of Gaul by Caesar, 11 CHAP. II. Policy of the Romans towards the Conquered Tribes — Human Sacrifice Forbidden — Polytheism introduced — Human Victims secretly sacrificed by the Druids — Plans of Insurrection agitated at these Solemnities — Combina- tion among the Gallic Provinces against Rome — Expedi- tion of Drusus—Insurreciion of Vindex in Nero's time — its Suppression^ — Persecution of Christians in Gaul in the reign of Severus — Origin of the Franks — Inroads of the Franks into the Roman Provinces in the time of Posthumus and GalUenus — The AUemanni defeated, and Peace for a time restored to Gaul, by Julian the Apostate — Radagaisus, King of the Goths, invades Italy, is taken Captive with part of his Army — the rest of his Forces invade and ravage Gaul, .... 30 CONTENTS. Vll Page CHAP. III. Successive Tribes of Barbarians by whom Europe was overrun — the Celts its original Settlers — Invasions of the Goths, Sarmatians, and Alani — Irruption of the Huns, who settle in the Eastern parts of Germany — Wars of Attila with the Eastern Empire — League be- tween ^tius, the Roman Patrician, and Theodoric, King of the Goths — Attila invades Gaul, and besieges Orleans — ^tius and Theodoric advance against him, and defeat his Army in the Battle of Chalons — the Vic- tors suffer the defeated Army to retreat, without molest- ation — Death of Attila — Extinction of the Western Em- pire — Erection of Italy into a Kingdom, . . .44 CHAP. IV. Conquests of Clovis — his Conversion to Christianity — War between him and Alaric, King of the Visigoths — Defeat of the Goths at Poitiers — Laws and Customs of the Franks — Death of Clovis — Division of his Empire among his Sons — The Saracens invade France, and are repulsed by Charles Martel — The Merovingian Race of Kmgs deposed by Pepin, Foimder of the Carlovingian Dynasty — Conquests of Charlemagne — Division of the Empire among his Successors — Invasion of the North- men, or Noimans — Charles the Gross deposed, . . 53 CHAP. V. Elevation of Eudes to the Throne of France — Disorders during the reign of Charles £he Simple — Encroachments of the Nobility — The Feudal System — its Advantages and Disadvantages — Invasion of Rollo, who obtains the Duchy of Normandy, and the Daughter of Charles the Simple in Marriage — Death of Charles — Reign of Louis d'Outremer — Descent of Hugo the Great, Ancestor of the Bourbons — Reign of Lothaire — War with Norman- dy, and with Germany — Dissatisfaction of the French on account of Lothaire's Treaty with Germany — Reign of Louis the Faineant, and the last of the Ceurlovingian Dynasty, 85 CHAP. VI. Causes which led to the Third Change of Dynasty — Ac- cession and Reign of Hugo Capet, son of Hugo the Vm CONTENTS. Page Great — Reign of Robert the Wise — Dissensions between Robert's Sons — Accession of Henry I. — Pilgrimage of Robert Duke of Normandy to the Holy Land — his Son William (afterwards the Conqueror of England) left at the Head of the Government of Normandy — War be- tween Normandy and France — Defeat of the French at Mortemart — Pacification between the two Countries — Death of Henry I., 101 CHAP. VII. Mmority of Philip — Origin of Cluvalry — Training of the Young Knights — Ceremony of conferring Knighthood — Duties of those who acquired that Honour — Devotion to the Fan- Sex — Wager of Battle — Tournaments — Chiv- alry took its Rise in France — its Institutions were speedily adopted by the Normans, who found a Field for the exercise of their Valour in the Wars of Italy — Bra- very and Conquests of the Guiscards — Battle of Du- razzo, 113 CHAP. VIII. fcaxon Conquest of England — Saxon Heptarchy — Court of Edward the Confessor — Dislike between the English and Normans — Death of Edward, and Accession of Ha- rold — Preparations of William of Normandy for inva- ding England — Invasion and Defeat of Hai'old of Nor- way — Battle of Hastings — Effects of the Norman Conquest — Forest La-vvs — Couvrefeu — The Language changed by the intermixture of Norman-French — Intro- duction of Chivalry — Connection with Continental Poli- tics, which was the consequence of England falling into the hands of the Duke of Normandy, . . . 126 CHAP. IX. Rebellion of Robert against his Father, William the Con- queror, instigated by Philip I. of France — Profligacy of Philip — Wise Conduct of Louis — Attempt of Philip's Concubine to Poison Louis — Death of Philip — Origin of the Crusades— Council of Clermont — Army of Crusa- ders led by Peter the Hermit — its Disasters — Crusade fitted out by the Four principal Monarchs of Europe — its Reception by the Greek Emperor — Capture of Nice — Battle of Dorylccum — Siege of Antioch — Siege and Capture of Jerusalem — Subjugation of Palestine — i^ec- tion of the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem, . . .141 CONTENTS. Page CHAP. X. Dissensions among the three sons of Robert Duke of Nor- mandy — The Kingdom of England and Dukedom of Normandy united in the person of Henry, the Youngest — War undertaken by Louis the Gross, in svipport of the Claim of William Clito, nephew of Henry, to Nor- mandy — Defeat of the French — Fortunes of William Clito — his Death — Death of Louis the Gross — Acces- ■ sion of Louis the Young, who undertakes a Crusade, in conjunction with Conrade, Emperor of Germany — they are accompanied by two bands of Females, the German Amazons under a Leader called the Golden- Footed, and the French under Clueen Eleanor — Disas- ters of the Crusade — Misconduct of Eleanor — Both Monarchs abandon the Enterprise, . . . 166 CHAP. XL Divorce of Louis and his Glueen, Eleanor — Marriage of Eleanor and Henry Plantagenet, by which her Posses- sions were added to those of a powerful Rival of Louis — Intrigues of Louis to weaken the Power of Henry — Ac- cession of Henry to the English Throne — Contract of Marriage between the Son of Henry and Daughter of Louis — Rupture between these Monarchs on Henry's asserting a Right to the Earldom of Toulouse — their Reconciliation — Schism concerning the Election of the Pope, in which the Kings of France and England espoused the side of Alexander III. — Odium incurred by Henry on account of the Murder of Thomas a Becket — League, with i_Tenees, and atforded, as you will presently see, most of the pretexts which the Republic brought forward for interfering with the affairs of Gaul. The protection of the Allobroges, and other states in the neighborhood of the province who had embraced the friendship of Rome, formed a perpetual apology for such intermeddling. Thus the conquest of Gaul, though undoubt- edly Caesar was encouraged in the attempt by the hope of adding to the power and renown of the Republic, and raising himself in the opinion of his fellow-citizens, was, in a certain degree, founded on state necessity. But, besides the ordinarv reasons for which Rome took up arms, grounds of serious political envy and hatred im- pelled the conquerors of {he world t<» make a war of subjection on a people who were always rest- less neighbours, and occasionally dangerous ene- mies. In Ccesar, the Romans enjoyed the advantage ofacreneral equally wise and skilful, and who, considerin£ his o\^'n ambitious views as insepara- bly connected with the conquest and final subjec- tion of Gaul, neglected no means of accomphsh- , ing an object so much desired by his countrymen, and so essential to his own fortunes. THE HELVETIANS RESOLVE 19 The principal circumstance which afforded ex- ercise for Julius Caesar's political sagacity, and a pretext at the same time for his military exploits, was the subdivision of this great country into a numberless variety of cities, governments, and states, trespassing almost always on each other, and engaged in endless and complicated feuds, which perpetually called for, or at least served to excuse, the interference of the Roman General, who, while he pretended to advocate the rights, and protect the cause, of such Gallic nations as were the allies of Rome, failed not to seize the opportunity of destroying one state by the arms of another, of which his Commentaries, as you are already aware, afford a most curious, as well as elegant narrative. A singular resolution on the part of the Helve- tians, a Gallic tribe of great numbers and brav- ery, afforded the Romans the first opportunity and apology for armed interference in the affairs of Gaul. This nation were the more hostile to the Romans, that they had, at no distant period, defeated a considerable army of the Republic, forced them to lay down their arms, and only spared their lives on condition of their passing beneath the yoke, accounted at the time an ac- knowledgment of the most abject surrender. One of Caesar's own relatives had shared in this de- gradation. The habit of emigration was then so general, that the spirit of local attachment, which is at this day one of the strongest principles of the modem Swiss, had no weight with the ancient Helvetians. "With the same impatience which had formerly induced their Celtic forefathers to change their 20 TO INVADE GAUL. position from one place to another, the Helve- tians determined to quit the barren mountains where they were born, and march forth in a body to establish, by fair means or by force, new settle- ments in other regions. After some feuds among themselves, which terminated in the death of a great chief, named Orgetorix, with whom the de- sign of emigration originated, the Helvetii set forth as a nation upon their adventurous expedition. Turning their backs, as they designed, forever, on their native valleys and mountains, they burnt their towns, twelve in number, with forty villages, and, with their wives and children, cattle and slaves, set out upon their extraordinary adventure. In our day, hardly any thing could be account- ed so strange as the resolution of a nation to leave its own familiar abode, and set forth on a vague expedition to settle in foreign parts. But, at the period I mention, fifty-eight years before the birth of our Saviour, this wandering people had little of what we now call love of their native land, and willingly undertook the labour and risk of such a journey, in the hardy confidence that they would easily find a country more pleasant and fertile than their own barren regions, and that they could scarcely be obliged to encounter, in defence of it, a nation of more bravery and war- like temper than they were conscious of bringing along with them. An incursion so bold as that which the Helve- tians proposed, the Romans had a fair pretencQ for resisting ; the more, as the Helvetians pro- posed to march into Gaul itself through the terri- tory of the AUobroges, whom we have already mentioned as allies of the Romans, and near INTERCEPTED BY CiESAR. 21 neighbours to the Roman province, and of course under the protection of the repubhc. At this extraordinary intelHgence, Caesar, who had been lately appointed Preetor, set off with the utmost speed from Rome, to look after the press- ing affairs of the Gallic province which had been committed to his charge. Here he defended the frontiers of the Allobroges by raising a long wall, flanked with towers, hastily erected indeed, but with such judgment that the Helvetians did not venture to attack it. The expatriated nation, being obliged to change their line of march, had only one road remaining, which led into Gaul through the territory of the Sequani, now called Burgundy. This road, run- ning among cliffs and torrents, was judged totally inaccessible without the consent of the Sequani themselves ; but, by the intercession of Dum- norix, a chief of the iEduans, a people whose ter- ritory lay near Autun, the Helvetians obtained permission to pass through the defiles of the Bur- gundians unopposed, so that they might after- wards march in a direction which should enable them to approach the ancient Tolosatium, now Toulouse. By this movement the Roman pro- vince was highly endangered. The iEduans, friends, if not allies of the Ro- mans, were mortal enemies of the Sequani, and be- sought assistance from Ceesar against the stream of Helvetians who were thus poured into their ter- ritory. Csesar hastened the motions of his army, for the purpose of intercepting the proposed march of the Helvetians, and preventing the threatened devastation of Gaul. So rapid were his movements, that finding the rear of their army, consisting of 22 C^SAR DEFEATS THE HELVETIANS. one-fourth of the whole, still encamped on the east- ern banks of the Arar, or Saone, though the other three-fourths had passed the river, he fell upon the rearmost division, thus separated from their main body, surprised and cut them to pieces, astonish- ing the invaders, not less with this unexpected blow, than with the activity with which he con- structed, in a single day, a bridge to pass his army across the Arar, although the task had occupied the barbarians twenty days. After he had crossed the river, Csesar detected the treachery of Dumno- rix, but forgave it, in consideration of the fidelity to the Romans exhibited by his brother Divitiacus. He then engaged in a decisive battle with the main body of the Helvetians, whom, after a severe contest, he defeated with much slaugh- ter. The Helvetians submitted to the conque- ror, and, by Caesar's order, returned to their an- cient possessions, excepting only one tribe, called the Boii, who, at the intercession of the Mdvd, were permitted by that tribe to settle in the terri- tory of Autun, their junction being considered as a decided advantage. Julius Caesar, having thus established the terror of his name, by the conquest, and almost annihi- lation, of the warlike Helvetians, was soon called to undertake a war, which, according to the belief of the Gauls, brought him in contact with adver- saries still more formidable. Of this he was in- formed in a private council held by the JEdui. They acquainted him, that, according to the cus- tom of the Gauls, who v/ere constantly divided among themselves, a long feud had existed be- tween them (the ^duans) on one hand, and on the other the Sequani, already frequently mention- CHARACTER OF THE GOTHIC TRIBES. 23 ed as well as another powerful tribe, called the Arverni, a people situated on the Loire, and who were united with the Sequani against the ^dui. Finding that their combined strength was unable to conquer the -3Edui, these tribes agreed to call to their assistance the warlike German nations which inhabited the opposite side of the Rhine, where that river bounded the country of the Gauls. I must here briefly remind you, that though a part of Germany had been originally settled by the Celtic tribes, yet the successors of these first colonists had been at a subsequent period subdu- ed, or banished, by a people so different in man- ners, language, religion, and even in form and countenance, as to present in their general ap- pearance all the qualities of a different race. This great and most important division of man- kind, finally constituted the grand source from which the modern nations of Europe have derived their principal materials of population, and the pe- culiarities of their several governments. They were generally termed Goths, having among them- selves a great variety of distinctive names. They spoke another language, differing from, and op- posed to that of the Celts, insomuch that some wri- ters have held them altogether different. They are found, however, by more accurate inquirers, so far connected as to warrant their being refer- red to a common source, at a period probably pre- vious to the remarkable event described in Scrip- ture as the Confusion of tongues. The Goths did not follow the religion of the Celtic tribes, nor were they acquainted with the order of the Druids, nei- ther did they acknowledge the existence or wor- ship of Esus, the one and only deity of the Gauls. 24 CHARACTER OF THE GOTHIC TRIBES. They worshipped the sun and the moon, to which they added several imaginary deities. They were much attached to the arts of divination, and as these were chiefly used by the matrons of the tribe, the females received, from this cause, as well as others presently to be mentioned, a degree of honour seldom paid to them by the males of barbarous tribes, who generally devolve on their women all labour save those of hunting and war. This race of Goths possessed some qualities, which, in the eyes of barbarians, are of high value. They were large-limbed, tall, and of great person- al strength, having generally red hair and blue eyes. Their chiefs only enjoyed command during the time of war, and a species of princes, called kings by the Romans, were elected as their judges during peace ; each of these magistrates had a coun- cil of one hundred persons supported by the pubhc. Their women, who held a high rank amongst them, were remarkable for their chaste and hon- ourable character ; and as no one was allowed to marry until he was one-and-twenty, at least, their young men looked forward with anxiety and hope to a period when they should undertake the duties and dignities of men, and in the meanwhile prac- tised those habits of patient restraint and subdued passions, which made them fit for the duties of manhood, when the period should arrive that they were permitted to assume the situation of a hus- band and a father. The women, on their part, finding themselves the universal objects of respect and attention, were anxious to assume a higher and more lofty charac- ter in society, than is usually assigned to females in the savage state. They partook in the toils and GOTHIC TRIBES OF GERMANY. 25 dangers of war, accompanied their husbands in their expeditions, and when the battle was irre- trievably lost, they often, by slaying themselves and their children, gave dreadful examples that they preferred death to slavery. The character of these Gothic tribes had some- thing superior even to that of the Gauls ; braver they could hardly be, but in war they were more steady, more persevering, could better endure the fatigues of a long and doubtful fight ; and if infe- rior to the Gauls and other Celtic nations in the fury of a headlong onset, they possessed powers of keeping their ground, and rallying, which ren- dered the event of the day doubtful, even after a long struggle. We can dimly perceive, by the history of ancient times, that the approach of these Goths from the east gradually overpowered and subdued the Celtic colonies who occupied Ger- many ; some penetrating northwards into Scan- dinavia, while others rolled their emigration rather to the south and east, till their course was check- ed by the mountainous regions of Switzerland and the Tyrol, and by the broad course of the Rhine. It followed, as a matter of course, that the fair regions of Gaul beyond this great river should become objects of covetousness to the Germans, whose crops were raised with difficulty, and who were as much strangers to wine as they were enamoured with the occasional use of it. It is not therefore wonderful, that the Germans, under the command of a powerful and haughty chief, named Ariovistus, should have willingly accepted the invitation of the Arverni and Sequani, to cross the Rhine, as I have told- you, to support them against the jSEdui ; nor was it surprising that VOL. I. 3 26 C^SAR DEFEATS ARiOVISTUS. Caesar, foreseeing the danger of permitting these martial people to establish settlements beyond the great river which had hitherto been their bar- rier, willingly inquired into the nature of their proceeding, with the purpose of putting a stop to it. He soon learned that Ariovistus and the Germans had already taken from the Sequani one- third of their temtory, and occupied the lands with his people, while he demanded a third more for the accommodation of reintorcements, which were about to join him from Germany. When Csesai' applied to Ariovistus to know why he assaulted and injured the allies of the Roman people, the German prince returned him the contemptuous answer, that he was yet to learn what pretence Csesar or the Romans could have for intertering ^vith his operations in Gaul. The Romans marched against this new enemy ; but the Gauls raised such exaggerated reports con- cerning the strength and ferocity of the Germans, that they spread a sort of panic even among the legionary troops themselves. Caesar, by his ad- dress and eloquence, put a stop to this mutiny of the troops. He declared that he himself would proceed on the expedition, though only the Tenth Legion should attend him. This select body of men were flattered by the praise and confidence of their general, while the rest called out to be led against the Germans. Ctesar then marched against Ariovistus, and after some manoeuvres, forced the German prince to come to an action, in which he routed his whole army with much slaughter, eighty thousand Ger- mans falling, and Ariovistus himself escapuig with great diinc-ilty across the Rhine. INSURRECTIONS OF THE GAULS. 2 7 By this decisive victory over the Germans, to whom the Gauls yielded the superiority in valour, the reputation of the Roman general was so highly raised, that it enabled him to assume the situation most convenient for reducing the whole country to obedience, which was the ultimate pur- pose to which he directed his schemes and inter- est. He became, or constituted himself, judge in the numerous quarrels which took place amid so many independent states. His decisions en- couraged v-ar-3 amongst them, which he so ma- ncLged that tlic victory always fell to the side on which the Roman eagles were ranked. The Belgae, a people of Gaul, who occupied modern Flanders, were the first to see in this supremacy of the Roman general the future seeds of absolute subjugation. This people, residing nearest to the Germans, and probably being rather of Ger- man than Gallic descent, were remarkable above the proper Gauls for their courage and skill in war. Yet their alliance against the Romans wels only the means of wealicning their country by re- peated invasions, and very bloody defeats, which increased the fame of Caesars arms, and rendered the other nations careful how they provoked a contest ^^'ith a people v/hose attacks the most powerful nations of Gaul had proved unequal to sustain. But although it was easy for Csesar to main- tain the office of a Governor of Gaul for a short time, yet the temper of that people, equally fierce and fickle, was scarcely subdued, or the country, as a R.oman would have said, half paci- fied, before they were again forming plans and alliances togjether for the ourposs of throwing off 28 END OP C^SAR S WARS IN GAUL. the yoke of Rome. Ten years of the active life of Caesar were spent in constant labour to reduce Gaul to the condition of a Roman province, but for a long time with very little success ; for no sooner did there appear a show of tranquillity, than it became the signal of wider combinations against the foreigners than had taken place before. It was in vain that Caesar laid aside the clemency which he practised, both from policy, and as most agreeable to his own temper. It was in vain, that in one action the river Aisne was so filled up and gorged with the dead bodies of the Gauls, that the corpses served as a bridge to their comrades who escaped from the slaughter. The victory only led to a more terribly obstinate struggle with the Nervii and other Belgic clans. Fifty thou- sand of a nation called Aduatici were sold at once for slaves. All these, and other severities, did not prevent a more powerful and almost uni- versal insurrection against the Romans, in which the ^dui themselves, the constant friends of Rome, wearied out by exactions of various kinds, did not refuse to join. The chief of the league, whose name was Yercingetorix, after many brave exploits, was at length made prisoner, and Csesar remained finally triumphant. The wars of Gaul, of which this is a very hasty and imperfect review, terminated by the storming of a very strong fortress, called Uxellodunum, where Csesar cruelly commanded the right hands of all the garrison who vvere fit to bear arms to be struck off. "The nature of the labours undergone by Csesar will best appear from Plutarch's catalogue of his victories. " In less than ten years, during the SUBJECT OF NEXT CHAPTER. 29 Gallic war," says that biographer, *' Caesar took more than eighty cities by storm, subdued three hundred states or communities, and fought upon different occasions with no less than thirteen mil- lions of men, one million of whom had fallen into captivity, and another had been taken captive and driven into slavery." The marvel in this report will be greatly diminished, if the reader recollects that Csesar seldom encountered one nation of Gauls without the aid of auxiliaries, money, and provisions from the others with whom he was in alliance at the time ; and thus, though it was the talents of the Roman general which conducted the campaign, yet, considering the actual charac- ter of the soldiers engaged, Gaul was principally overcome by the disunion of her own native forces. In the 49th year before the Christian era, Caesar returned to Rome to exercise, against the liberties of his own countrymen, those troops, and that discipline, which had been so admirably formed during ten years' wars against the Gauls. In this manner. Providence makes our own crimes the means of bringing on our punishment. The un- just ambition of the Romans was the proximate cause of their own loss of freedom. The effects produced upon Gaul by the conquest of the Ro- mans, will form the subject of the next volume, which will bring us down to the time when the reviving free spirit of Europe began to burst as- under, and cast from her, the fetters of Rome ; or rather, when Rome herself, who had deprived so many nations of their freedom, and who had so absolutely lost her own, found she had at the same time lost her hardihood, her discipline, and 3* 30 POLICY OF ROME. her powers of conflict, and lay exposed at the mercy of her own armies, Hke the fabled hunter to the attack of his own hounds. CHAP. II. When Rome seized upon the dominions of an independent state, she usually prevailed on the suffering party to rest satisfied with some mess of pottage, like Esau in the Scriptures, in place of what may be justly termed the most precious birthright of humanity, excepting that spiritual benediction which the eldest-born of Jacob so rashly exchanged for a dish of food. Rome professed to give to the conquered states her protection, her acknowledgment of the au- thority of their magistrates, with perhaps a golden diadem, a curule chair of ivory, or some other emblem of more show than use ; the true sense of which toys implied, that the laws, ordinances, and authorities of the once free country could not now be said to exist, unless in so far as they were ac- knowledged by Rome. The various cities, states, or provinces throughout Gaul, were ail subjected to Rome ; but the servile connexion they bore to her varied according to the circumstances of sur- render. Some cities or commonwealths were permit- ted to retain the name of freedom ; others were termed confederates of the Roman people ; while others were reduced to the condition of a province, HUMAN SACRIFICE FORBIDDEN. 31 to which a Roman governor was appointed, with full power over the property and persons of the unhappy natiyes. But in all those cases, whether the subjugated Gauls were mocked with the name of freemen or confederates, or called in plain terms subjects, the Roman legions alike occupied their strongholds. A capitation tax was levied for the benefit of the Republic, and the children of the soil, forcibly arrayed as soldiers, were made to serve in different countries, so that having lost their own freedom, they might be used as tools to deprive other nations of theirs. But the vain and imaginary distinctions com- prehended in these various orders of subjugation, were soon entirely melted down, and merged into sixteen grand divisions, called provinces, which, it is believed, was an arrangement made under the reign of Augustus ; for so short a time were the Romans disposed to abide by the veil of decency with which they themselves had in the commence- ment thought it necessary to disguise their con- quests. What, then, you may be tempted to ask, did the conquered Gauls obtain in exchange for the right of managing their own affairs, which the Romans had wrested from them ] In reply, it cannot be denied that the coin in which the Republic of Rome paid for her aggressions was not all false money. It was her boast to extend some degree of civilization among the prostrated vassals of her empire, and to impress on them a milder spe- cies of spiritual rites than that which had anima- ted them in their days of savage freedom. With this view, the abominable mode of wor- ship by human sacrifice was forbidden throughout 32 TEMPLES FIRST BUILT. the Gallic states, so soon as they had bent the knee to Rome. In aboHshing this wretched and barbarous cus- tom, whatever might be the intention of the Ro- mans, there can be no doubt that the morals of the people were proportionally amended. Nor, when it is considered what a species of priest- craft was exercised by the Druids, and how much they strove to keep their votaries in ignorance in order to increase their own power, can we blame the means by which the Romans endeavoured to diminish that power, although the actual cause of their doing so was the reiterated efforts of this peculiar priesthood to inflame their countrymen against the yoke of the conquerors. But if the injunctions of Rome were highly laudable in prohibiting the practice of human sac- rifices, and were in a great measure salutary, as they tried to loosen the fetters which an ambitious priesthood had fixed on the people, other innova- tions which they introduced upon the Gallic creed were of a different nature, and tended to deprive them of their primitive worship, which, although erroneous, was founded upon the grand system of acknowledging one sole divinity. The Druids re- sisted these innovations at first with tolerable suc- cess, for it is said that no temples were built in Gaul until the time of Tiberius, when a general tax, or census, over the whole country, was proposed at Rome, and only abandoned on the chiefs of Gaul consenting to erect a temple to the memory of Caesar, and for the adoration of Augustus. Thus, as associates in the throne of the single deity, Esus, in whom, no doubt, they recognised, though imperfectly, the unity and power of the Creator HUMAN SACRIFICE. 33 I uf all things, were placed that very Julius Csesar, who had been the invader and tyrant of their own country, and that Augustus himself, the cruelties of whose early life were combined with the brutal pollutions of his later years. Polytheism, or a variety of deities, being thus introduced into Gaul, that belief took root and throve among that people to a most wonderful de- gree. The rich exhausted themselves in building temples, some to the gods recognised by the Romans, but fancifully distinguished by other epithets and attributes ; and others to imaginary deities, whom they had sanctified according to their own wild fancy. Another melancholy part attending this perversion to the grossest errors of paganism, was, that whilst the Gauls imbibed all the superstitions of idolatry and polytheism, and renounced the approach which they had made to the grand truth, that the world was created and governed by one great being, they retained at the same time their custom of human sacrifice. These infernal, rites, the worst part of the ori- ginal worship of the Druidical system, the Gauls continued to practise in secret, in defiance of the edicts of the Emperors for abolishing it, thus per- versely retaining what was inhuman and cruel in their original system, and adopting, from that of their victors, the whole childish puerilities of a superstition which the Romans had been borrow- ing for so many centuries from every country, whenever any thing could be found to interweave into their own creed. But it must not be supposed - that the human victims of the Druidical system were, after the conquest of Gaul, executed in the temples which they had erected after the fashion 34 SACRIFICE OP HUMAN VICTIMS. of the Romans. It would appear that animals alone were sacrificed within these new places of worship ; nor is it natural to believe that the Gauls should transgress the edict of the conquerors, under the eye of their garrisons, or governors. The people, who, looking back to the days of their freedom, desired to worship as they had formerly worshipped, met by appointment in some dark recess of unfrequented woods, under the direction of the Druids, who resumed, at such se- cret conclaves, the power which they were no longer permitted to exercise in public. Bearing on their head the coronet of oak leaves, which they esteemed sacred — clad in white robes, as was their custom, the ancient priests then met the people in the deep forest, to adore in secrecy and silence, according to the bloody rites of their fore- fethers. The victim, who fell under the axe ot the sacrificing pontiff, or who, sometimes bound to a tree, was shot to death with arrows, was usually a criminal who had deserved death, or some individual of small account, who had been kidnapped and reserved for this inhuman purpose. At other times, it was a voluntary victim, who offered himself as an expiatory offering for the sins of the people, like the scapegoat of the Israelites. When an individual could be wrought up to such, a point of insane patriotism, the Druids announ- ced to him, as his reward, eternal happiness in the society of the Gods, to propitiate whom he consented to suffer death ; and the people, if cir- cumstances permitted, took care that he whose sacrifice was to be the price of the public pros- perity, should, for some time before his death, taste of as many of the pleasures of this life as PLANS OF INSURRECTION. 35 they had the means of procuiing him. His death then took place by the hand of the consecrated Druids. They observed every circumstance of his mortal agony ; the manner in which he fell ; the course of his blood down the rugged front of the sacred stone : and from these circumstances affected to divine how far the deity was propitious to their designs. It may be well believed that, at these secret meetings, the occasional return of the Gauls to the barbarous rites of their Celtic ancestors, the bards were also called in to assist, by music and melody, the impression which was made on the assistants by the eloquence and mystic predictions of the priests. The themes usually chosen were the ancient glory of Gaul and her inhabitants, who, having been long the terror of distant countries, were now found unable to protect their own against the Romans. The feelings of the hearers, a nation readily excited, passionately fond of fame, their prejudices easily acted upon by the gloomy fana- ticism of their priests, and their quick fierce tempers, resentful of the injuries received from the Romans, became much agitated by such solemnities, and it was not to be wondered at that general schemes of revolt were laid or extended at such meetings. Besides these internal plans of insurrection against the foreign yoke, the vicinity of the free Germans, and their incursions and conquests upon the Gallic territory, were another vexation which instigated the mhabitants to revolt. The Gauls had a right to complain, that while the Romans assumed the title of their masters, and drained the provinces of the youth with whom they could have 36 INSURRECTION OF VINDEX. maintained their own defence, they left them ex- posed to the inroads of a barbarous and formi- dable enemy. These dissensions produced very general con- \ailsions throughout Gaul, in the year 74 1 after the foundation of Rome. The various states and principalities of the whole sixteen subdivisions or provinces, communicated and combined together. Drusus, who was sent by the emperor to still these commotions, had art and authority sufficient to convoke all the Gallic chiefs and principal ma- gistrates at Lyons, under pretence of dedicating the temple to Augustus, which we have already noticed. Here by promises and actual benefits, he managed to disconcert the plot of the disaffect- ed. And as he proceeded across the Rhine, and repulsed the Germans, the time when the Gauls might have at least shaken off the Roman yoke passed away in inactivity. In the year of the Christian era 78, during the reign of the tyi^ant Nero, an opportunity occurred, when the Gauls, by the rise of an enterprising leader, were very near accomplishing their often meditated project of successful insurrection. The leader, according to Dion Cassius, named Caius Julius Vindex, was the son of a Romanized Gaul, whose father had become a Roman senator. He was descended from the line of one of the an- cient kings of Aquitaine, endowed with great strength of body, and wisdom ; above all, an ac- complished soldier. Availing himself of the cruel exactions with which the tyrant then oppressed Gaul, Yindex, who was governor of Celtic Gaul, ascended the tribunal, and in an animated oration denounced IN NERO'S TIME. 37 the vices of Nero, his cruelties, his infamies, the death of his mother by his orders, and the crimes which to this day cling to his memory, as one of the most depraved monsters that ever existed. He called upon his hearers, not to rise in insur- rection against the Roman empire, but to com- bine for the more limited purpose of removing Nero from the government. The people, being already greatly exasperated, took arms at this ex- hortation, and Vindex was soon at the head of one hundred thousand men. It is said that Nero was rather pleased than alarmed by this formidable in- surrection, conceiving it would afford his treasury great wealth from the forfeited estates of the in- surgents. He placed a reward of two hundred and fifty myriads of drachms upon the head of Yindex. When this was told to the daring leader, he repHed, " To whomsoever will deliver to me the head of Nero, I will be contented to resign my own life in return, for having destroyed so great an enemy to the human race." But of all Vindex's reproaches, Nero was most moved by that in which the Gallic insurgent called him a wretched fiddler. Leaving the topic of his mother's death, and similar horrors, he complain- ed bitterly to the Roman people of the eispersions thrown out against his taste and power as a musi- cal performer ; and, that the Romans might judge how little they were deserved, he - introduced a voluntary or two into the oration which he deliver- ed on that occasion. Meantime, Virgilius Rufus, a Roman general who commanded on the banks of the Rhine, ad- vanced against Vindex. It was thought the two commanders would have come to an understand- VOL. I. 4 38 PERSECUTION OF CHRISTIANS. ing ; but the armies approaching each other, skirmishes ensued, which led to a general action, in which Vindex was defeated, with the loss of twenty thousand men. Hurried on by a species of despair, of which the ancient Romans >vere but too susceptible, the defeated general killed him- self just before the time of Nero's dethronement and death. , After the death of Vindex, there is little worthy of notice in the history of Gaul, except that, like other provinces of the empire, it suffered the most severe and tyrannical exactions at the hands of the Roman governors ; and that the generals w^ho commanded there often assumed the purple, and gave place, by their ambition, to wars, of which Gaul became the scene. The Gauls were, for example, among the first to recognise as emperor the celebrated Septimius Severus, who, in begin- ning his career of ambition, was governor of the province of Lyons. The last scene of the civil wars which completed the elevation of Severus to the imperial throne, was the defeat of his rival Al- binus, at a place called Timurteum, about twenty leagues from Lyons. A severe, but local perse- cution of the Christians disturbed Gaul under the reign of this able emperor, who was indignant at a Christian soldier who refused to wear a crown or coronet, delivered to him as a donation, agree- ably to the command of his general, but which a religious dread of committing idolatry prohibited him from making use of. St. Irenaeus, the bishop of Lyons, fell, among other martyrs, about the year of God 202. As the Roman empire began now to totter to- wards its fall, different barbarous nations, whom ORIGIN OF THE FRANKS. 39 by force of arms she had first compelled to retire from her boundaries, began to thicken around her, in some instances with the purpose of mere ravage and plunder, in others, with the more re- solved intent of making conquests and settle- ments, within the iiAperial territory. Three of the nations or coalitions of tribes, who had re- garded Gaul as their natural conquest, require to be distinguished from each other. The most re- markable, from their becoming the corner-stone of the great monarchy to which they afforded a name, are the Franks, the undoubted founders of the present kingdom of France. From whence the people were derived, whose memory has been preserved by such distinction, has been the sub- ject of much discussion. In olden times, a fanciful origin was imagined for the Franks, which England had also adopted, namely, that they claimed their descent from the Trojans, of classical antiquity. At a later period, Pannonia and Gaul were fixed upon as the native country of the Franks. But a more probable opinion has gained ground in later days, which has been generally recommended by its simpli- city. The Germans, the most formidable enemies of Rome since the days of Caesar, repeatedly de- feated by the discipline of the Romans, but always resisting them, and often victorious in their turn, are supposed, about the middle of the third century, to have formed a new association or alliance among their eastern tribes, for the pur- pose of mutual defence, to which, in token of their love of liberty and their resolution to maintain it, they gave the name of Franks, or Freemen, 40 THE FRANKS RAVAGE GAUL. though each tribe was individually known from the others by its own name. In this confederacy, they at first acknowledged no supreme head, nor was authority assumed by any one state over the others. The purest equality, and the plan of acting for each other's mutual support, seem to have been at once the object and the conditions of the con- federacy. This formidable people commenced a set of furious incursions upon Gaul, which the Romans, under Gallienus and Posthumus, endea- voured to repel, in a long series of bloody wars, and in which both parties unquestionably sus- tained great losses. The province itself suffered greatly from the miHtary operations, being necessa- rily exposed to the ravages of both parties, whether Romans or Franks. Indeed, notwithstanding the opposition of Galli- enus and Posthumus, the south-eastern provinces of Gaul were so cruelly ravaged, that they afforded little spoil to the invaders ; so that latterly the Franks' only used them as a road to the Pyrenees, and from thence into Spain, which, unharassed as yet by shuilar invasions, contained a spoil far more tempting. They even seized upon vessels, and crossed to Africa, where they also found provinces plentiful of spoil, and colonies little acquainted with the art of war. The Franks, who thus laid waste by rapid excur sions the provinces of the Roman Empire, had yet a country which they called their own, where they resided, when they chose for a time to abide at rest. To their original settlements on the eastern or Ger- man side of the Rhine they had added a consider- able tract, called at that time Toxandria, which THE ALLEMANNI DEFEATED. 41 appears to have comprehended great part of the pre- sent province of Brabant, their habitations being in woods and morasses, or on the adjacent banks of lakes and rivers, as they could best surround them with rude fortifications, formed out of the trunks of trees. The Allemanni were another and separate asso- ciation, resembling that of the Franks, and insti- tuted upon similar principles. The Suevi formed the strength of this confederation ; a tribe so much esteemed for courage by the neighbouring nations, that the Germans told Caesar even the immortal gods could scarcely match them in fight. This brave people comprehended, besides, so many members, that they assumed the title of Allemanni, or All-men, to mark the comprehensive principle of general union on which their league rested. Besides making distant and extensive excursions, one of which brought them almost to the city of Rome itself, which was in great danger of falling into their hands, they, like the Franks, had a fixed abode. This second confederacy of the German tribes had their settlements on the eastern banks of the Upper Rhine ; and their vicinity was not less formidable to Gaul than that of the Franks. About the year 357, Julian, who, from his renouncing the Christian religion, obtained the hate- ful epithet of the Apostate, was sent, with very insufficient forces, to rescue Gaul from the ravages of the barbarians, and discharged his duty with un- expected success. He defeated the Allemanni in the battle of Strasburg, and after obtaining this vic- tory, he crossed the Rhine three times, and upon each occasion took forts, won battles, or gained other successes ; so that Gaul was for a time re- 4* 42 JULIAN THE APOSTATE. lieved from the incursions of these barbarous ene • mies, and, with the assistance of Julian, its towns were rebuilt, and its prosperity re-established. The historian Gibbon, who, from his enmity to the Christian religion, shows a great desire to make a hero out of Juhan, has not, it is true, said more than enough in praise of his talents. But though certainly a prince of lively parts, and great personal activity, we cannot attribute soundness of under- standing to the man of education, who should prefer the mysterious jargon of Plato's philosophy, and the coarse polytheism of the heathen religion, to the pure simplicity of the Gospel. The provinces of Gaul shared for some time the advantages procured by the active talents of Julian ; and it would seem, that although the Franks were celebrated for a rude and fickle temper, yet for a period of years they remained faithful to Rome ; a fidelity which was probably purchased by occasional subsidies. They even resisted the strong tempta- tion of an opportunity to break their alliance with the Romans, in the great invasion of Rhodagast, or Radagaisus, which may be said in its event alto- gether to have destroyed the very slight remains of the Roman empire, excepting in Italy itself. This barbarian prince had collected an immense army from the shores of the Baltic sea, in which so many were sprung of pure Gothic descent, that the name of King of the Goths was generally, though inaccurately, given to their commander. The Van- dals, the Suevi, the Burgundians, joined his stand- ard. But though the Western Emperor Honorius was a timid and inefficient prince, his minister, Sti- licho, a man of ambition, warlike skill, and political talent,^with an army, the last apparently which he THE GOTHS INVADE GAUL. 43 could raise, came upon the King of the Goths while he was engaged in the siege of Florence, and, by a hasty circumvallation, surrounded the besiegers, who, in their turn, were besieged, reduced to a starv- ing condition, and obhged to suiTcnder. But though Radagaisus and his host were made captive, yet two-thirds of his original forces, amount- ing to one hundred thousand men, were still in arms in the north of Italy. It is said that Stilicho insinu- ated to them the advice to attack Gaul, as perhaps the only means by which he could relieve Italy of such unwelcome guests. They took the hint ac- cordingly, and, ascending the Alps at different points, and approaching the Rhine on various quarters, ap- peared as invaders on the frontiers of Gaul. In this exploit, those who attacked Gaul from the Upper Rhine experienced neither assistance nor opposition from the Allemanni. But the Vandals, whose great numbers had enabled, or perhaps obli- ged, them to separate from the barbaric host, ap- proached the territories occupied by the Franks, on the lower part of the river. The Franks, faithful to their engagements with the Romans, advanced in arms to oppose them, and in the battle which ensued twenty thousand Vandals were slain. But the arri- val of the Alani, another nation of barbarians, who came up during the conflict, compelled the Franks to retreat, and to desist from the defence of the river, to which their numbers were unequal. Without further opposition, then, the roving bar- barians, consisting of several tribes, the remains of the army of Radagaisus, crossed the Rhine, which was then frozen, and carried fire and sword into the rich country, which had in a few years recovered from the devastations of the Franks and Allemanni. 44 THE FRANKS. and reduced it again to a smoking desert, never more to assume the name of a civilized province of Rome, but to remain the theatre in which contending races of barbarians were to exercise themselves against each other in bloody conflict. This inva- sion of Gaul took place in 407. CHAP. III. Gaul could be no longer considered as an ap- pendage to the Roman empire, if indeed the empire itself could be said still to exist. The province was filled with tribes of barbarians of Gothic or Celtic descent, carrying on desultory warfare with each other, which having neither a permanent result nor motive, becomes of as little consequence to history, as, to use an expression of Milton, the battles of the kites and the crov/s. The name of Rome was still used in these scenes of confusion ; iEtius, the minister and general of Yalentinian TIL, a man of courage, doubtless, but who had no means to follovv' up his attempts to re- claim the province of Gaul from the barbarous hordes by which it had been ravaged, save by the arms of others yet more barbarous than those by which Gaul was overrun and occupied, made, nevertheless, by the aid of such auxiliaries, a consi- derable stand. We are compelled to notice one or two of the more important nations, to whom some degree of settled government had given the appear- ance of a certain advancement in social life. THE GOTHS. 45 The Franks are in this case to be pecuUarly at- tended to, as in their descendants we must look for the origin of the powerful kingdom of France. We have already seen that they occupied both sides of the Rhine in its lower course, and at first opposed the remains of Radagaisus' army, till overpowered by the joint force of the Vandals and the other hordes. The Franks seem then to have resolved to seize upon a share of the prize which they could no longer defend. They advanced their banners accordingly, r-^^d nmidst the general confusion, found no difficulty in adding to their western frontier a large portion of territory, comprehending nearly two of the praetorian governments, into sixteen of which the Romans had divided Gaul. At this period they had established kingly govern- ment by hereditary descent in the Merovingian family. These princes allowed their hair to descend in long curls over their shoulders, while the rest of the Franks shaved the hair on the back part of the head, from whence the Merovingian dynasty were entitled the Long-haired Kings. Their dominions extended as far westward as the eastern bank of the Somme. The Goths, meaning that part of them called Visigoths, or Western Goths, had established them- selves in the province of Gascony, and the adjacent parts of Spain ; and their chief, Theodoric, a prince of great resolution, having been converted with his subjects to the Christian faith, had shown more wisdom and strength of mind than v/ere usually the attributes of barbaric princes. With Tlfeodoric, -SLtiuS, the Roman general, made war, as one by whose arms Gaul was most likely to be detached from the empire. But a common enemy was ap- 46 THE SARMATIANS. preaching, of a power so formidable as to compel both parties to unite in resisting him. The latter days of the Roman empire were mark- ed by many of those emigrations upon a great scale, by which the nations who were put in motion were precipitated upon such as remained quiet, with the impulse of a river in inundation, overwhelming or bearing before them the settlements of former ages, and sometimes destroying all memory of their exist- ence. Thus had one race succeeded another in Europe. The Celts had been its original settlers; the Goths, more strong, wise, and powerful, had driven this primitive people into the retreats of the mountains and valleys, where their remains are still to be found. The Sarmatian race also showed itself amid these successive revolutions ; and the Alani, sometimes the scourge, sometimes the protectors, of the Ro- man provinces, were of the third great family, who were distinguished by a language and manners con- siderably different from those of the Goths, and their predecessors the Celts. But this unhappy period, the fourth and fifth centuries, was yet to see and suffer the remorseless rage of a fourth division of mankind, a race yet different from those by whom they had hitherto suffered. It seemed the will of Heaven, to punish perhaps the wickedness of the Roman people, that so fast as one horde of barbarians had begun to settle into peaceful inhabitants of the regions which they had wasted, new bands were brought from the extremi- ties of the earth to renew the devastations, which had become more infrequent and between the fresh invaders and their precursors, there was so little of connection, or possibility of alliance, that they did INVASION OF THE HUNS. 47 not even understand eacli other's language. A re- markable feature of this extraordinary course of events, was the unexpected appearance of a count- less army of Asiatics on the borders of the still harassed Eastern Empire. This extraordinary emigration had arisen out of convulsions so far to the eastward as the Great Wall, by which the Chinese emperors endeavoured in vain to protect themselves against the Tartars of the desert. "Whatever was the original cause of communicating a movement so general, it must have been of a most formidable character, since it acted so widely upon the bosom of the Great De- sert. Myriads of the mounted Tartar tribes col- lected together, dragging or driving on each other, and poured on to the westward, as if directed by the instinct of the locust-swarm, which holds undevia- tingly upon its destined track to the country which it is called to ravage and destroy. Wherever this tide of armed emigration came, it struck universal terror. Their numbers were in themselves great, and the velocity with which their equestrian habits enabled them to move, magnified them into innumerable shoals. Nor was their ex- ternal appearance less terrible than their numerical force. The Gothic and German tribes had shown the astonished provincials a strength of limb, and a loftiness of stature, seemingly beyond the usual growth. On the other hand, the Huns, as these new invaders were called, were dwarfish in stature, and their limbs, though strongly formed, exhibited a disproportion to each other, which almost amounted to deformity. Their countenances were of the cast commonly called Chinese ; and their small sparkling eyes, 48 INVASIO N OF THE HUNS. , deep sunk beneath the skull, were placed at a dis- tance from each other on the extremities of an un- natural breadth of foreheaJ, v»hile a flat nose and a large mouth added peculiar hideousness to the wild and frightful expression of the face. Their manners were almost as horrible as their appearance. Under the arbitrary despotism of their chiefs, they became familiarized with ail the evils which despo- tism usually teaches its subjects to inflict, and to submit to. Their manners were altogether fero- cious and brutal, and if we could implicitly trust the accounts transmitted to us, few mortals could more resemble demons in features and actions, than did these hordes of Tartar savages, who appeared in Europe tov/ards the end of the fourth century. The Gothic tribes who inhabited the northern bank of the Danube, were the first to experiencf the furious attack of these new enemies, and were so much struck with terror, that, like one wave pur- sued by another, the body of the nation poured towards the banks of the Danube, and implored permission to cross that mighty barrier, and to take shelter under the protection of the Roman Emperor of the East, from the tide of barbarians which were pouring upon them from the deserts of Tartary. The Goths were incautiously admitted to take refuge within the limits of the empire ; but as at the same time, the venal lieutenants of the frontier treat- ed them with harshness and injustice, the incensed strangers became the most formidable enemies to its tranquillity. They never again left the territory of the Empire, but remained there, sometimes in the character of avowed enemies, and at others in that of doubtful auxiliaries and friends, changing their FIRST WARS OF ATTILA. 49 relations as often as caprice or desire of gain could afford a motive for doing so. The Huns, whose approach had impressed somuch terror on the Goths, and constrained that redoubted nation to advance upon the Roman Empire, did not themselves take the same direction with the fugi- tives. They took undisturbed possession of Hun- gary, to which they gave their name, and of great part of eastern Germany. These fertile regions seemed sufficient for their wants, and what incur- sions they might make upon the Empire of the East, were not of a grand or terrific character. It may be conjectured, that at this period the power of this wandering people was not combined under one ge- neral head, and that the thousand tribes of the Huns lived for the time each under the dominion of its own chief, in consequence of which the strength of the whole nation was not readily brought to exert itself. But in 433, we find the forces of the Huns ^433" again combined under the guidance of one well qualified to use a power so tremendous. This was Attila, or Etzell, as he is called by Ger- man tradition, surnamed by his terrified contempo- raries the Scourge of God. By the ferocious acti- vity of his followers actively seconding his own natural disposition, he was enabled to make good the inhuman boast, that grass never grew on the spot over which he passed. His first wars were with the Eastern Empire, from which he exacted a large yearly tribute, besides an extensive cession of terri- tory, and obliged Theodosius, then Emperor of the East, to submit to the most humiliating demands. His protection was eagerly sought after by ^tius, called the Patrician, already mentioned, who ob- tained, by the influence of the King of the Huns VOL. I. 5 50 ATTILA^S INVASION OF GAUL. the highest position of power and trust at the court of Theodosius. But ^tius forgot gratitude in the virtue of patriotism. Attila, after hesitating whether he should attack the Eastern or Western Empire, and after having insulted the weakness of both, determined at last to pour upon Gaul the terrors of a Tartar invasion. JEtius, so much was the pride of Rome fallen, could only attempt to defend the Roman province against the barbarians of the east, by forming an alliance with one of those nations of barbarians which issued from the north. I have already told you that the Visigoths, or Gothic tribes of the west, were in pos- session of Aquitaine, and had fixed their capital at Toulouse. This powerful nation was commanded by Theo« doric, the son of a king of the Goths called Alaric, and the policy of ^tius induced him to obtain the aid of the Gothic king for the defence of Gaul against the Huns. These Tartars advanced with all their tribes ; and Attila, whose policy, like that of most barbarians, consisted chiefly in cunning and dupUcity, flattered iEtius and Theodoric alternately with his friendship, and threatened them with his formidable enmity ; thus preventing them, for a time, from com- bining their forces for the common safety, by sug- gesting to each that the peril respected the other alone. While thus amusing Theodoric and -3Etius, Attila, by a march seldom equalled, passed from Hungary to Gaul, crossed the Rhine by a bridge of, boats, penetrated into the centre of the province of Gaul, which he wasted, and laid siege to the impor- tant town of Orleans. But mutual alarm had now accomplished that union between the Roman Patri- cian and the valiant Gothic monarch, which mutual BATTLE OF CHALONS. 51 distrust had so long impeded. Theodoric raised a powerful army, and appeared at their head ; -^tius called to arms the other barbarous people in Gaul, who still set some value on the name of Roman Confederates, and among them brought to the field Merovaeus, the long-haired king of the Franks, though Attila called that nation his allies. Having formed the plan of their campaign, the allies marched forward with such rapidity, that they well nigh surprised Attila while he was engaged in the attack on Orleans. On their approach, he was compelled to raise the siege, and, recrossing the river Seine, concentrated his immense clouds of cavalry near Chalons, in the province of Cham- paigne. The Goths, with the army of ^tius, ad- vanced against him, and the crisis seemed to ap- proach, in which the fate of battle was to decide to whom this fair portion of Europe was doomed to belong. Both were barbarians ; but the Goths, having received the Christian faith, had at the same time adopted some of the attendant doctrines of morality, which mitigated the ferocity of their natural manners. But even ere they enjoyed these inesti- mable advantages, they possessed as much superior- ity over the Tartars in the turn of their mind and manners, as in their stately and well-formed persons, which showed to such advantage, compared to their misshapen and fiendish looking enemies. They were a people accustomed to pride themselves in subduing and resisting the brutal impulses of their nature, without which power of restraint man is levelled with the beasts that perish. The Huns, on the contrary, wallowed in every pleasure that could gratify their animal instinct. The plurality of wives in which they indulged, produced among them all 52 BATTLE OF CHALONS. the usual consequences of degradation of the female sex, and indifference between the parents and the ^offspring. The battle of Chalons, therefore, was likely to de- termine whether the European or the Asiatic savage, alike in rude and ferocious courage, but differing in so many other qualities, was to predominate in the province of Gaul. This engagement, fought in the year 450, was disputed with an obstina- 4*50.* ^y ^^^ fury, befitting the great stake for which these fearless nations, on fire with rivalry, and each proud of its ancient name, pursued the bloody game of war. The aged, but valiant king of the Goths, Theodoric, was killed in the front of the bat- tle, but his place being bravely filled by his eldest son, Torrimond, the impetuous career of his follow- ers was not checked, and Attila himself was com- pelled, by the strength and fury of the Goths, to seek, after the Scythian custom, a retreat among his wagons, which were sometimes the means of trans- porting their families, and scmetimes their fortifica- tion against a prevailing enemy. The troops, which sustained the once formidable name of Romans, suffered greatly, and ^tius, their leader, was separated from his soldiers, and with difficulty found refuge in the camp of his allies. But such a battle was dreadful to the victors as well as the vanquished, and the Goths and Romans judg- ed it more prudent to sutler Attila to effect a sullen and slow retreat, watched by a part of their army, than to risk the glory of their hard-won victory, in an attempt to cut off the retreat of the Tartar prince. Attila arrived in the northern parts of Italy, without having, in his retreat, suffered any considerable abatement of power, or by liis defeat lost much ot CONQUESTS OF CLOVIS. 53 his renown. He died not long after, having com- pelled the Roman Emperor of the East to give to him, as one of his many wives, a beautiful daughter with an immense dowery. Shortly after this event the Western Empire was entirely extinguished, and a kingdom of Italy erected in its place. CHAPTER IV. I HAVE already fixed your attention upon the Franks as the people who were destined to become the founders of modern France. But the original extent of their dominions was small ; the increase of their power slow ; nor did they for a length of time bear much comparison with the Burgundians, who occupied the south-east of France, or with the still more numerous Visigoths, who repulsed the formidable host under Attila. We have already given some account of them and their long-haired kings, who were called after Merovajus, the ally of ^tius and of Theodoric, at the famous battle of Chalons. But in his time the Franks can only be said to have kept their ground. In the time of Clovis, (which is the same name with Louis, the chl of the Celtic tribes resembling the aspirated consonant /i/,) the power of the nation made great advances, rather by the address and abi- lity of the monarch, than by the superior valour of his followers, though the Franks were allowed to be among the bravest of the German tribes who in- vaded Gaul. 5* 54 coNguESTS of clovi s. ' Such of the GalUc colonists as still chose to re- tain the name of Romans, endeavom-ed to embody themselves under the command of one Syagrius, who established his head-quarters at Soissons. But Clovis, with his warlike Franks commenced his ca- reer of conquest by defeating him ; and ob- taining possession of his person, caused him to -J.- °* be beheaded, and seized upon his dominions, which added to the territories of the Franks the provinces of Gaul betwixt the Rhine and the Loire. Clovis afterwards conquered a king of Thuringia named Basin, and extended his sway over his coun- try, the inhabitants of which were the more severel}' treated, that they had formerly joined Attila, and committed frightful cruelties upon the Goths and Franks, after the battle of Chalons. But Clovis' destiny was principally determined by his adopting the Christian faith. The chief agent in his conver- sion, was his queen, Clotilda, daughter of Gundo- bald. King of Burgundy, his neighbour and ally. By her affectionate exhortations, the mind of her husband was disposed to Christianity, though he long hesitated to embrace a religion which imposed many restrictions. At length, in a battle with the Allemanni, often already mentioned as holding the upper part of the Rhine, Clovis, hard pressed, was induced to vow, that if he should obtain a victory, which seemed extremely doubtful, he would become a Chri'; lian. The King of the Allemanni wns slain, his r.ixiiy discomfited, and the acquisition of his do- minions greatly augmented the power of the Franks. After this conquest, Clovis adopted the Chris •^•^' tian faith, according to his vow, and was bapti- zed in the Cathedral of Rheims, wheie it has RE LIGION OF THE VISIGOTHS 65 been ever since the custom to crown and consecrate the monarchs of France. Burgundy, the country of his wife, was after- wards subjected by this ambitious King ; for Clovis was equally a dexterous politician, an accomplished soldier, and, we must add, an ambitious and unscru- pulous man : by such characters are kingdoms ac- quired, and their limits augmented. Gundobald was attacked and defeated, and after his death, his son Sigismond was taken, and put to death; the sons of Clovis causing him and his family to be thrown into a well. But, before the conquest of Burgundy was per- fected, a war broke out between Clovis and those Visigoths, who, in the time of Theodoric, had assisted in defeating Attila at the battle of Chalons. These Yisigoths were Arians, that is, they held certain opinions on the most abstruse and mysteri- ous doctrines of Christianity, taught by a clergyman called Arius, which are contrary to those accepted by the Catholic Church. Unhappily for both sides, the Christians of those early ages chose rather to make these differences in speculative opinion the means of persecuting each other, than listen to the great precept of the Gospel, which imposes on us the duty to love our neighbour as ourselves. The Visigoths were at this time governed by a prince called Alaric, who was stirred, doubtless, by the blood of his renowned ancestor of the same name, and jealous of the growing conquests of the Catholic Clovis. The two monarchs met as friends upon an island in the Loire, which now divided their dominions. But it is remarkable how seldom such interviews serve to prolong peace and good under- 56 DEFEAT OF THE GOTHS. standing betwixt princes. They feasted together, and parted in appearance as friends, but whh mu- tual rancour at heart. Clovis held a council of his barons ; — " Let not these Arian heretics," he said, " longer enjoy the choicest portion of Gaul !" He was answered by loud acclamations, and, to give evidence of his own zeal, rode to the front of his nobles, and darting his battle-axe forward with a strong arm and desperate aim, " Where my francisca alights," he said, (such was the name which the Franks gave to their war-axes,) " will I dedicate a church to the blessed St. Peter, Prince of the Apos- tles, and to his holy brethren !" The weapon lighted on the spot where Clovis erected the Great Church, now called that of St. Genevieve, formerly of St. Peter and St. Paul. Un- der these auspices, Clovis advanced against Alaric, who appeared at the head of an army of Goths, far superior to that of the Franks. In the anxiety of the moment, Clovis endeavoured to propitiate the saints by magnificent promises. St. Martin of Tours, who had been active in the general conversion of Gaul, was the principal object of his vows. He endeavour- ed to propitiate that saint with many promises, and particularly that of dedicating to him a favourite charger, which was perhaps the thing in the world which he loved most dearly. The King of Franks joined battle with Alaric, near Poitiers, where ^^' the usual good fortune of Clovis prevailed. He showed his personal gallantry in the pursuit, and, attaching himself to the person of Alaric, slew him with his own lance, while at the same time he made his escape with difficulty from two desperate Gothic champions, who united to avenge their mo- narch's death by that of his conqueror. CHARACTER OF CLOVIS. 57 The risk which Clovis had eluded by his own dexterity, and the excellent qualities of his approved charger, endeared the noble animal to him, and he endeavoured to repurchase him at the price of one hundred golden pieces, from the saint to whom the good horse had been pledged by the royal vow. But he was displeased to learn that St. Martin had vindicated his property, and that the steed would not stir from his stable till redeemed at a higher rate by his secular master. " An excellent friend in time of need, this St. Martin," said the king, somewhat fretted at the saint's tenacity ; " but rather difficult to transact business with." He continued, however, his at- tachment to the saint, and his bounty to the exist- ing clergy, which secured for the founder of the Frank monarchy a fairer character in the pages of the monkish historians than his crimes de- serve. Clovis' reputation as a conqueror was, in his latter years, somewhat tarnished by a defeat receiv- ed before Aries, from Theocoric the Great, King of the Ostrogoths, but it did not greatly affect his power. His religion, however, consisted chiefly in superstition, and his esteem for St. Martin never in- terrupted the course of unscrupulous ambition which, on every possible occasion, seized the opportunity of extending his dominions either by fraud or vio- lence. Such princes of the Merovingian race, whose interests seemed likely to interfere with his own family, he cut off without mercy. Of others, he shaved the long hair, and having thus rendered them incapable of assuming the established mark of regal sway, shut them up in cloisters. If he sus- pected them to be capable of reflecting that their 58 LAWS AND CUSTOM hair would grow again, he took sterner and more fatal means of shutting the paths of ambition against them. Yet, though stained with the blood of his own re- latives as well as others, Clo^^s, with many crimes as an individual, had great virtues as a monarch. He not only extended the power of his tribe, over what we must in future call France, combining into one strong monarchy the shattered and broken fragments of so many barbarous tribes, as well as the feeble remains of the Roman settlers in Gaul ; but he ruled them by equitable and humane laws, being the first of the barbarous conquerors of what had con- stituted the Roman empire, who tried to restore order in the dominions he acquired, and engaged himself in creating, as well as destroying, the social union. His code of laws were called the Salic and Ripu- arian, from having their origin on the banks of the Saal, and the eastern side of the Rhine ; and in their peculiar character they bore the stamp of the war- like freedom which distinguished the ancient Franks. The King of the Franks gave to his friends and fol- lowers the personal and temporary possession of benefices, fiefs, or farms, varying in extent and value, stipulating the service of the vassal, in peace or war, in return for abandoning to him the profits of the soil. Originally, these grants terminated at the will of the holder of the soil, at least at the death of the tenant ; but at last it became usual to renew the grant, as a matter of course, on the death of the vassal, and in favour of his eldest son, or nearest heir, who paid, or rendered, a certain acknowledg- ment for receiving this preference. The female inheritance of fiefs was prohibited by OF THE FRANKS. 59 the Salic law, and the consequence, by excluding the Kings of England from the throne of France, led to those long and bloody wars which perpetuate the remembrance of the original edict. In many respects, the Frank institutions were those of barbarians. Slaughter was only punished by a fine, which differed according to the arbitrary value at which the law rated the persons slain. Ordeals of various kinds were referred to, in which the Deity was expected to work a miracle, in order to make manifest the guilt or innocence of an ac- cused person, by protecting him from being burnt when walking barefoot among masses of hot iron ; and similar unreasonable appeals were admitted, for obtaining a special testimony of innocence, at the expense of a suspension of the laws of nature. But a mode of trial, far more suitable to the man- ners of these martial barbarians, was the referring the issue of a lawsuit, or dispute of any kind, to the encounter of two champions, espousing the different sides of the contest in the lists. This regulation was so well suited to the genius and disposition of the barbaric tribes, that it was soon generally intro- duced throughout Europe. Thus arose in France, the first germ of those institutions, called the feudal system, the trial by combat, and other peculiarities, which distinguished the jurisprudence of the Middle Ages. We can also trace, in the customs and laws of the Franks, the same rude marks of the Trial by Jury, which seem originally to have been formed among all the northern people, — though it is very worthy of your notice, that the British alone have been able to mould it into such a form as to adapt it to a civilized state. The jurymen were, in the days 60 TRIAL BY JURY. of the origin of lav/, called compurgators. They were little more than witnesses brought forward to give evidence in behalf of the character of an ac- cused person. " You have heard things alleged against me," said the accused, " but I will produce a certain number of compurgators, men that are well acquainted with me, and who will pledge their oath that I am incapable of what has been imputed to me." By steps which it is something curious to trace, the compurgators, limited to a convenient number, came to be the judges in the cause, listening to the proof adduced, whether in favour of guilt or inno- cence, and deciding by their verdict which of the two predominated. So that, from being witnesses in behalf of the accused, the opinion of the com- purgators became the means of deciding the truth or falsehood of the charge against him. The high and excessive preponderance which the Franks allowed to their own warlike habits, induced them to claim such superiority over the Gallic or Roman colonists, that it must have reduced the whole, as it doubtless did a very great part of thern^ into the condition of bondsmen and Helotes to their haughty conquerors, had not the more refined, but less gallant provincialists, found a retreat in the church, by which they were raised in general opinion above the condition of their conquerors, and, in their character as priests, dealt forth to them, as they pretended, the good and evil things of the next world, in consideration of being admitted to a large share of temporal wealth and power as a recompense in the present. As the clergy were men of information, and pos- sessed what learning still existed in Europe, their DEATH OF CLOVIS. ' 61 lot was gradually rendered better than at first was threatened, and the rude warriors were frequently, even to their own surprise, obliged to submit to the well-informed and wily priest. But when the op- pressed provincial of Roman or Gallic descent remained in a lay condition, he was considered as incalculably meaner and more worthless than the descendant of the Frank, or freeman, by whom he had been conquered, and the distinction betwixt him and the warlike barbarian remained long, and may be traced deep in the history and manners of the kingdom of France. Clovis having laid the foundation of a mighty state, which he extended by victory, and guarded by laAvs, died at Paris, which he had fixed upon for the 611? capital of his dominions, in the year of God 511. The monarchy which he founded, was not in all appearance likely to survive him ; for upon his death, it was divided among his four sons ; but it was the singular fortune of the French monarchy to be often put in danger of dismemberment by a division of territory, from which it repeatedly escaped, by the reunion of the detached portions, upon the first op- portunity. This spirit of individuality it perhaps received from the impulse of the institutions of Clo- vis, since those people who live under the same laws are predisposed to unite in the same govern- ment. But it is at least unnecessary to trace with accura- cy the minute actions, separations, and reunions of territory, during the sway of the kings of the First, or Merovingian race. They were never remarkable for family concord, and while their empire was di- vided into departments, they seem to have fallen into absolute anarchy. Their wars against their neifi;h- VOL. I. 6 &2 SUCCESSORS OF CLOVIS. hours and each other were conducted with the ut- most cruelty, and their social regulations seem to have been broken through by the general propensity to insubordination. One of Clovis' grandsons, Theodibert, King of Metz, passed the Alps into Italy ; and although that irruption, like all which the French have hither- to directed against their transalpine neighbours, was m the end nugatory, yet he might have revived it with greater advantage at the head of a more nu- merous army, had he not been slain at a hunting- match by a wild bull, no unfit opponent to a headlong conqueror. He left a son, but Clotaire, his uncle, had the ad- dress to seduce the allegiance of the people from the young heir of Metz, and prevail on them to ac- knowledge his own better right, as nearer to the blood of the great Clovis ; and in the end this prince succeeded, by one means or other, in uniting once more under his own sway all the dominions of that great conqueror and legislator. After the death of Clotaire, the Frank empire was again subdivided, and then again followed a succession of wars, mur- ders, and treacheries, which might be the stain of any kingdom, if the like could be foimd elsewhere. About this time, the punishment of the kings of the Merovingian race began to descend upon them in a manner which was the natural fruit of their of- fences. These princes had repeatedly neglected their kingly duties, to plunge themselves into sensu- al pleasures, and had used their regal power for the gratification of their own selfish wishes and desires, instead of applying it to the administration of justice among their subjects, or the maintenance of the laws. DEGENERACY OF MEROVINGIAN KINGS. 63 By a natural consequence, their powers of under- standing became limited to the petty subjects in which alone their own unworthy passions induced them to take interest, while the real exercise of au- thority, whether in time of peace or war, devolved upon a minister known by the name of Maire du Palais, or, as we would say, the high-steward of the royal household, who had the complete administra- tion in his own hand, to the total exclusion of the monarch. The kings, retiring into the interior of their palace, led a life so useless and so totally with- out object, tiiuL they attained the name of Rois Fai- neans, or Idiot Princes, while their Maires de Palais, or ministers, assumed the command of the armies, administered justice, invaded some provinces, and protected others, and made war and peace at pleas- ure, without even consulting the wish or inclination of the long-haired puppet who held the name of king. There are few countries which have not at some time or other been cursed by imbecile princes, who have let their power slip from their hands, and aban- doned themselves to the pleasures of luxurious indolence, while then- ministers discharge the duties of government. But at no time in Europe has the surrender been so complete, so absolute, and so en- during, as in the case of the Merovingian family. Pepin d'Heristhal, so called from chiefly residing in a castle of that name, upon the Meuse, was one of the most distinguished of those ministers whose increasing, and finally exclusive pov/er, prepared the way for the final extinction of the race of Me- rovoeus. Yet he still observed decency towards his supposed master. The unfortunate monarch was treated with such state as fully satisfied the popular regard, which still venerated the blood of Clovis. 64 DEATH OF PEPIN. This resort of parade was but of a coarse clumsy character, suitable to the rudeness of the age. The king, when exhibited to the people, was driven about the streets, like a show of modern days, in a large wagon drawn by oxen, surrounded by guards, who, under pretence of protecting his person, suffered no one to approach him ; and on public occasions, he kept aloof from his people, and was environed by the great officers of state. Thus, though an essential part of the ceremony, the king took as little interest in it as one of his own draught oxen. Every thing approaching to real bu- siness was settled by Pepin, who, to the title of Maire du Palais, expressive of the highest ministe- rial authority, added that of duke, or leader of the Franks ; and under these modest epithets disposed of the full power of the crov/n, preserving in his per- son a simplicity of manners and appearance which astonished all strangers, when contrasted with the idle pomp which attended on the king's person. Pepin d'Heristhal did i ct escape the dangers at- tendant on the actual poscss.lon of power. He was attacked and stabbed at his devotions, by the dag- ger of an emulous rival. He recovered, however, and his authority was so easily transmissible, that he named his son Theobald his successor, as Maire A. D. du Palais, though only six years old, and died 714. shortly after having done so. But the fortunes of this favoured child, though the only legitimate son of Pepin de Heristhal, gave way before those of the illegitimate offspring of the same minister. This was the famous Charles, call- ed Martel, or the Hammerer, from the resistless weight of the blows which he discharged on his enemies in battle. After various victories, improved INVASION OF THE SARACENS. 65 with talent, he found himself able to compel the king, Thierry of Chelles, who then supported the dignity of the long-haired and weak descendants of Clovis, to admit him to the dignity of Maire du Palais, that is, to the administration of the kingdom of France. Most fortunate that kingdom was, in possessing his abilities at the time, for an awful crisis was approaching, threatening more imminent danger to France than had menaced it since the great inroad of Attila. As in the days of that Scythian monarch, the rising kingdom was threatened with the invasion, to use the language of Scripture, of " a nation from far, whose tongue they did not understand," and who, in all the pride of victory, came with the Mos- lem form of faith in the one hand, and the sword in the other, to propound to the Christians of France the choice of apostacy or death. These were the Saracens, or descendants of the Arabian believers in Mahomet, who, having accept- ed the law of that impostor, had burst forth from their deserts, their natural ferocity and courage en- hanced by their fanaticism, to lay waste the world, and preach the Alcoran. From the extremity of Africa, they crossed into Spain, and de- ^713* stroyed, after a brief struggle, the kingdom which the Goths had erected there, and which they found under the government of a profligate and un- popular monarch : and now their arms were turned against France. Aquitaine, an independent dukedom, a remnant of what had been the empire of the Visigoths in that province, was first exposed to their inroads. It was governed by a prince named Eudo, who had hitherto been opposed to Charles Martel and his ^ 6* 66 DEFEAT OF THE SARACENS. family, but now implored his assistance against the common enemy of Christianity. As the kingdom of the Franks still preserved ex- tensive possessions on the east side of the Rhine, the Maire dii Palais levied in Germany a large body of troops, whose lofty size, massive strength, and fair complexion, were likely to inspire surprise and terror into the swarthy and slender Arabs. Charles Martel, having communicated his plans to Eudo, took his measures for the approaching cam- paign, where a defeat might have proved irrepara- ble, with a degree of caution which seemed foreign to his character. Permitting, and almost encour- aging, the numerous bands of the invaders to en- feeble their force by dispersing themselves through the country in search of plunder, he kept his own army strongly concentrated. The Saracens and the Christians at length en- countered near the city of Tours, and the contest, which lasted several days, seemed to endure with an obstinacy worthy of the object of debate, namely, to what religion, and whose government, this fair portion of the European world should in "^732/ future be subjected. While the battle continued desultory, which was the case during the first days of the strife, the Sara- cens, from the numbers and activity of their light squadrons, obtained some advantage over the Chris- tians. But this was lost when the light-armed Arabs came to mingle in close combat with the warriors of the north, who were so much stronger in their per- sons, mounted on more powerful horses, and, above all, accustomed to seek out and to sustain the dan- gers of close encounter. Thus the battalions of the Saracens were already DEFEAT OP THE SARACENS. 67 hard pressed, and beginning to give ground, when the cry of conflict was heard in their rear, and the in- fidels discovered that their camp was assaulted by Eudo, at the head of the people of Aquitaine, who had concerted with Charles Martel the time and manner of so seasonable an attack. The Saracens then gave way, and were defeated with an immense slaughter ; even if we decline believing that no less than three hundred and seventy-five thousand infi- dels, and only fifteen hundred Christians, were slain in the battle. This great victory decided the campaign, and the event of the war ; and Charles Martel pressed his success vigorously. The Saracens lost the footing they had gained beyond the Pyrenees, and Europe was saved from the imminent risk it had run of be- ing darkened by the religious dreams of the African prophet. Charles, planning yet more impor- tant achievements than he had executed, was 741/ removed by death. The clergy, notwithstand- ing his great services to Christianity, pretended that, his tomb being opened by accident, nothing was dis- covered but an ugly dragon, which, they boldly affirmed, was an explicit mark of his eternal reproba- tion. The truth is, hfe had offended the churchmen, by calling upon them, with an irresistible voice, to sur- render part of their weahh for the service of the state. Charles Martel was succeeded in his title of Duke and Prince of France, and guardian of its long-haired kings, by his sons, Carloman and Pe- pin, whilst a third son, Gripon, struggled hard to obtain a share of authority. Carloman early re- tired from the world into an Italian convent, and Gripon died, afler various attempts against Pepin, which had been repeatedly forgiven. 63 MEROVINGIAN KINGS. About this period, Pepin, who had been ^'.q' hitherto content to govern in the name of Childeric, the last of the Merovingian kings, to whom, as to his fathers, the empty honours of sovereignty had been paid, began at last to tire of the obstacle interposed betwixt him and the name of king, while he already possessed the power. The important question, whether the Faineant, or Simpleton, should continue to possess the royal title, rather than the active and effective minister who discharged the duties of the situation, was re- ferred to Pope Zacharias, then Bishop of Rome. This pontiff had already received the most im- portant services from Pepin, who had protected him against the arms of the Lombards, a nation of bar- barians who had usurped the command of Italy. He was, therefore, warmly disposed to favour Pepin in his present object, on account of the regard he had for one who had rendered him such services ; and at the same time, by assuming the office of ar- bitrator in a matter of such consequence, Zacharias established a precedent for the superb claims which the Popes of Home had already formed to become the general umpirx3S of the Christian world. He had no hesitation to declare his opinion, that, in a contract like that betwixt the kings of France and their people, if the former should totally neglect and retire from all the duties of a sovereign, they lost the right of exacting allegiance from their sub- jects. Founding on the award or sentence of the pon- tiff, and availing himself of the power which was entirely in his hands, Pepin held an assembly of the Frank nobles, and degraded Childeric HI., the last of the race of Merovteus. His lonoj hair was MEROVINGIAN KINGS- 69 shaved, to prevent him from again ascending the throne ; and for the same reason he was obhged to take religious vows, and retire into a monastery. Thus ended the First, or Merovingian race of the kings of France, in consequence of their total in- dolence and incapacity. You will hereafter see, that the family of Pepin did not themselves profit by the severe lesson imparted by their ancestor to his predecessors, and had in their turn their term of decay and degradation. Pepin, called by his historians Bi^ef, or the Short, to distinguish him from his ancestor Pepin d'Heris- thal, was elevated upon a buckler, after the ancient custom of the Franks, and declared king of the nation, of which he had been long the effectual ruler. He became the parent of the Carlovingian, or Second race of French kings, who, like the Me- rovingians, their predecessors, commenced their dynasty in glory and conquest, and declined into degeneracy, sloth, and effeminacy, until they were superseded by another royal family, as their ances- tor succeeded Childeric. At this period, what had been the fragments of the Roman empire, had been repeatedly conquered and divided by barbarians of different origin, but yet, like the animal called a polypus, the severed parts showed a disposition to frame new combina- tions of government. Pepin and his son Charles, who obtained the name of Charlemagne, or Charles the Great, made great progress in erecting a new Western Empire, differing widely from that which had formerly ex- isted under the name and authority of the Romans, both in laws and institutions, the more recent of which were in a great measure founded on those of 70 POWER OF THE POPE. the Franks, which we have since called the Feudal System. To give their power the venerable aspect of re- ligion, and the better to confirm their sway, both Pepin and Charlemagne engaged in repeated inva- sions of Italy, for the purpose of supporting the Bishops of Rome against the oppressions of the Lombards, a people already mentioned. This na- tion was finally conquered and annihilated by Char- lemagne. He was then not unmindful that the Popes, as they were called, had been the first to sanctify Pepin's assumption of the crown by a for- mal sentence, and began to study a recompense which should at once attest his gratitude and his de- votion. For this purpose, Charlemagne gave to the Bi- shops of Rome, who had hitherto been spiritual prelates only, a right of temporal dominion over their city and territories adjacent, which raised them to the rank of princes of this world. Future Popes were discontented that their power should be supposed to rest on the narrow basis of Charlemagne's grant, and asserted that they pos- sessed a right of the same tenor from Constantine the Great, not only more ancient, but more ample. But this pretended document is generally supposed to have been a forgery. At any rate, you must ob- serve, and remember, that it was by the grant of Charlemagne that the Pope first laid the foundation of his power as a temporal prince, as it was in the case of Pepin Bref that Pope Zacharias first exer- cised his authority in disposing, or authenticating the disposal, of the crown of France, as if he could have had any title either to depose the long-haired CONQUESTS OP CH ARLEMAGNE. TV Simpleton, or to elevate the Moire du Palais to the throne in his room. The Popes failed not to evince their gratitude to Charlemagne, from whom they had experienced so many favours. In return for having made the" Bishop of Rome a temporal prince, that prelate solemnly raised his benefactor, Charles, to the rank of Emperor. ■} The realms which were united under the sway of this victorious prince, might well be termed a re- newal of the Roman empire. As King of the Franks, he succeeded to their dominions both in France and Italy ; for when, under the long-haired kings, that people advanced their conquests in France, they still retained their original German possessions on the east of the Rhine, which had been the land of their fathers, when they first form- ed their association, or league of freemen. But Charlemagne greatly enlarged these German pos- sessions by overrunning Saxony. That province was inhabited by a fierce people, still heathens ; and it cost a war of thirty years, and upwards, ere they were conquered and converted. In Germany, Charlemagne also defeated the re- mains of the great nations of the Huns, or Tartars, and added to his limits the provinces of Bohemia and Pannonia, so as to reach the frontiers of the Eastern, or Grecian Empire. In Spain, he gained considerable advantages over the Saracens,^ until he extended his Christian power from the line of the Pyrenees, the natural boundary between France and Spain, to the banks of the Ebro, which river bounded his empire. It was especially in his bat- tles with the Saracens, that the romancers, who made the adventures of this great prince the sub- 72 BATTLE OF RONCESVALLES. ject of their poems, found materials for the numer- ous fables with which they altogether disguised and obscured his exploits. The battle of Roncesvalles, in which Charle- magne, though the chief of Christian and Euro- pean chivalry, suffered a terrible defeat, and lost a great part of his Paladins, a select band of re- nowned champions so called, is supposed to have taken place in a pass of the Pyrenees, descending from these mountains. The rear-guard of the Franks was attacked by the natives of Gascony, whom the Moors had bribed to assist on the occa- sion, and very many slain. The celebrated Or- lando, or Roland, of whom romance says so much, and history so little, fell on this occasion. But although the incidents of the reign of Char- lemagne have been made the theme of many fables or exaggerations, there can be no doubt that Charles, by his courage, constant activity, and fre- quent successes, deserved the title of Great, He ■was a legislator as well as a conqueror, and studied those arts by which society is cemented and bound together, as well as the rules of war, by which its frame is dissolved and burst asunder. It would be difficult to compute the consequences to the world at large, if Charlemagne could have transmitted his great and powerful empire to a sin- gle successor, as capable as himself of wielding the government. But the French diadem, it would seem, had something benumbing in its effect upon th-e wearer ; and the desire among the descendants of Charlemagne to divide the succession, each seizing upon independent portions of the empire, prevented this great experiment from being made. The Ger- man Empire, So much more feeble than that of the GOVERNMENT OF CHARLEMAGNE. 73 French, has subsisted, as a rickety and unhealthy child sometimes survives its more robust brother. Habit, in the one case, kept together a people accus- tomed to one language and the same system of laws. The Carlovingian Empire, on the other hand, fell to pieces for want of those principles of cohesion. Charlemagne indeed, transmitted great part of his dominions to his only surviving son Louis previously created King of Aquitaine, and associ- ated with his father in the empire. But in the course of two or three generations, the various de- scendants of the great Emperor Charles made war among themselves, and by treaties divided and sub- divided their empire into fragments. It had, indeed, required all the sagacity and activity of Charles, from whom they derived their descent, to keep to- gether a large empire, consisting of unconnected kingdoms, inhabited in most cases by distinct races of people, Huns, Alani, Allemanni, Lombards, and other tribes, who had in their turn laid waste the European world. Charlemagne endeavoured to give strength and unity to this mass, by assigning to vassals of warhke skill, and of distinction at his court, the government of different provinces, they always holding their au- thority from and under himself as superior of the whole ; and while a man of such wisdom and power was at the head of the empire, these governors were compelled to do their duty, and as but few of them had yet obtained hereditary rights to their offices, they were liable to lose them upon incurring the emperor^s displeasure. In the assemblies of the crown vassals, Charlemagne made, by the advice of his clergy and nobles, those laws which were called Capitulars, and which regulated his empire. In VOL. u 7 74 ANECDOTE OF CHARLEMAGNE. these general councils of the nation, there reigned among the hardy vassals, who composed them, a strong spirit of freedom, mingled with a deference to the will of their emperor, which was naturally founded on the wisdom and high talents of this great monarch, the extent of his power, and the number of his conquests. He had also a mode of giving advice to those around him on such occasions, in which mirth was joined with sober counsel, and a serious lesson given under the appearance of a jest. For example, although Charlemagne himself displayed upon pub- lic occasions a considerable degree of rude magni- ficence, yet it was merely for the support of his im- perial dignity in the public eye, and not from any pleasure which he received from the gratification of personal vanity. He dreaded, therefore, the intro- duction of luxury among his subjects. On one oc- casion, observing that his nobility and vassals had indulged to extravagance in silk dresses, lined with fur, he invited them, thus arrayed, to a royal hunting party, though the weather was the depth of winter, and the day rainy. He then, after they had been completely drenched in the forest, led them back to the royal hall, where the heat of the fire shrivelled up the wet furs. Charles on this gloried in his own plain sheepskin cloak, which had neither suffered by the storm nor by the heat, and exhorted the tattered crew by whom he was surrounded, to reserve silk and furs for days of ceremony, and to use in war and in the chase the plain but serviceable dress of their ancestors. In this anecdote there is more meaning than may be at first seen. In the decay of the Roman empire, the successive defeats sustained by the various war- LOUIS T HE DEBONNAIRE. J75 I like tribes, which, seizing on the provinces of that immense ruin, had become in their turn a prey to ! luxury and effeminacy, and sunk under the sway of i barbarians, who retained their wild courage and sim- I pie manners, there was a strong lesson to future ' conquerors. From this, Charlemagne was naturally led to foresee the degeneracy which might sap the foundations of his own throne, and bring down upon the Carlovingian race, of which he himself was the founder, a fate similar to that of the Merovmgian dynasty, which his father, Pepin Bref, had extm- guished. Neither were his apprehensions far re- moved from the truth. , . , , Charles was succeeded m his throne by %.f Louis, called the Debonnaire, from his obli- ging and gentle character. That character was, however, greatly too soft for the times in which he lived ; and the instructions with which his father had carefully imbued him, proved inadequate to form his courteous and yielding temper to encounter the difficulties of his situation. His sense of religion took an unhappy direction, and subjected him to un- due influence on the part of the prelates and clergy, who abused his weakness, and usurped the royal privileges. The near relations of the new emperor conspired against his crown and life, and he telt a degree of remorse at the necessity of punishmg them which increased the indirect authority of the priest- hood, and induced him to submit to the most de- grading penances. The Empress Judith, of the House of Guelf, obtained also a power over her husband's mind, which she used to pernicious pur- poses, persuading him to raise Charles, a son whom she bore to him, to a right of succession in the em- pire, and estates dependent thereon. This incensed 76 DEATH OF LO UIS THE DEBONNAIIlE. the sons whom Louis the Debomiairc had by his former marriage. Lothaire, Pepin, and Louis, en- gaged in an ungrateful and unnatural rebellion against the good-natured king. He even became prisoner to his insurgent ^835!* sons, and was solemnly degraded from his royal dignity, although he was afterwards recalled to the throne. This was only to be dis- turbed by fresh family intrigues, in which, embar- rassed by the solicitations of his young wife, '^g^J* and the pretensions of his adult sons, Louis the Debonnaire died broken-hearted, but left no part of his dominions to his son Louis, whom he considered as especially undutiful. " Yet you must forgive him as a Christian," was the suggestion of the Bishop of Mentz. " I forgive him with all my heart," said the dying Emperor ; " but let him be- seech God's forgiveness for bringing my gray hairs with sorrow to the ground." Thus died the Emperor Louis ie Debonnaire, son of the Great Charles, on whose tomb the adage might have been inscribed, that, *' Mere good nature is only a fool." Immediately upon the death of Louis, a general war ensued among his children ; and in a dreadful battle which took place near Fontenoy, upwards of one hundred thousand men of the Frank nation fell in defence of the pretensions of the various claim- ants. It was not till five years afterwards that this fraternal discord was terminated by a treaty, by which the dominions of Charlemagne were divided into three parts, and shared among the three bro- thers. The eldest, Lothaire, kept the title of Em- peror ; he also retained all Italy, with the city of Rome, and the whole tract of country lying betwixt the rivers Rhine, Rhone, Saone, Meuse, and INVASIONS OF THE NORMANS. ^ 77 Scheldt, which was from him called Lotharingia, the memory of which word survives in the word Lorrain, still applied to a part of what were Lothaire's dominions. Louis the Second, his brother, enjoyed all the dominions of Germany beyond the Rhine, and was thence called Louis the German. Charles, whose pretensions had, during his father's lifetime, given so much occasion for disturbance, was de- clared king of the third portion into which the empire of Charlemagne was divided. This compre- hended Aquitaine, and all the provinces lying between the Loire and the Meuse. Thus the empire of Charlemagne was once more partitioned among his descendants, and their civil quarrels ended for a season. But their unnatural and bloody war had reduced them to such a state of weakness, as encouraged enemies to rise against them on all sides. The Saracens, no longer restrained by such ge- nerals as Pepin, Charles Martel, or Charlemagne, again attempted to extend their incursions into Gaul by land, into Italy by sea, and afforded no rest to the afflicted provinces of Charlemagne's empire. A still more formidable people had taken up arms for the purpose of harassing the coasts of Europe, and at their pleasure filling their vessels with spoil, or landing and acquiring settlements by force. These new and powerful conquerors were the inhabitants of Norway, Sweden, and Denmark, called by the ancients Scandinavia. The fleets equipped by these people were ex- tremely numerous, and commanded by such chiefs as, either from hereditary descent or election, had aspired to authority. Undaunted courage was ne- cessary in the commander of a people, who scarcely 7* 78 INVASIONS OF THE NORMANS. knew even the name of fear, and made it their boast that they signaUzed their courage at the expense of all other people on earth. As they were very expert sailors, they, equipped numberless fleets, which rav- aged all the coasts of Britain, France, and Spain, and sometimes even entered the Mediterranean. Though of various nations, yet behig all of northern extraction, these pirates were known to the inhabi- tants of the south under the name of Noithmen or Normans, by which they became so formidable, that public prayers were put up to Heaven for delivery from their visitations. The people, too terrified to resist a nation whose profession was piracy, their rehgion heathenism, and their element war, endeavoured to pacify them by humble submission ; the kings attempted to bribe them by money. But though one squadron might be thus induced to relinquish their purpose for a season, the next summer was sure to bring fresh swarms of spoilers ; and the invasions of the Nor- mans upon the coasts of Southern Europe make the most remarkable feature of the ninth and tenth cen- turies. To this incalculable evil the coasts of France were exposed, while its interior was ravaged by the many evils which attend on the inability and dis- union of princes. The epithets bestowed by his- tory on the line of Charlemagne, are taken from personal imperfections ; and such nicknames as the Bald, the Simple, the Hammerer, and the Gross, could only be conferred on men who were without more worthy claims of distinction over the rest of mankind. It is impossible to suppose that these last descendants of Charlemagne possessed either mental energy or virtue, from which a distinction TREACHERY OF CHARLES. 79 could have been assigned to them. In the year 885, the disasters of France, from the misconduct of their princes, and the assaults of foreign enemies, seemed to approach a crisis which threatened its national existence. At this period Charles, called the Gross, or faly had, after the death of most of the direct descend- ants of Charlemagne, obtained the title of Emperor, with which he united for a time that of King of France. This prince had been formerly induced to consent to the settlement of a body of Normans in his province of Friezeland, hoping their presence and co-operation might protect the coast of the Netherlands against visitations from their country- men. Finding that the Normans continued their incursions, and that Godfrey, the king of the set- tlers, intrigued against him with Hugo, a bastard nephew, he resolved by a daring crime to redeem the consequences of a political error. Henry, Duke of Saxony, one of the Emperor's high officers, by the orders of his master, prevailed upon Godfrey to hold a friendly interview with him. To this interview Duke Henry brought one Count Berard, whom Godfrey had driven from his estate. The consequence was easily to be foreseen. Be- rard upbraided the Norman prince with his wrongs, and in the altercation killed him with his battle-axe. The Normans who attended their leader shared his fate. The emperor having, in like manner, treason- ably obtained possession of his nephew Hugo's person, caused his eyes to be put out, to render him incapable of reigning, and shut him up in the great convent of St. Gal, in Switzerland. The death of Godfrey was followed by the most alarming consequences. The furious Normans, 80 SIEGE OF PARIS justly incensed at the treacherous murder of their leader, assembled a fleet of seven hundred sail, small vessels certainly, since they came up the Seine, which is inaccessible to large barks, but having on board a great army of their countrymen. Their object was to attack the city of Paris, the capital of France since the time of Clovis. When assaulted by the Normans, the city gg?' occupied only what is still called the Isle of Paris, which was surrounded by the Seine on both sides, and accessible by two bridges, the ap- proaches to which were strongly fortified with tow- ers. In those times it held a high rank as a strong fortification, and was accounted one of the ran^parts of Christendom. To protect and defend these walls and towers, the city was filled with the best of the French warriors, who devoted themselves to its de- fence. The Normans, who had expected to carry the place by surprise, were in that respect disap- pointed. But although their habits did not render them peculiarly fit for undertaking regular sieges, they dis- embarked their numerous bands, and pressed the city both with a blockade, and also by repeated assaults at the sword-point. Much courage was shown in the attack and defence, and all the wea- pons of war then known were called into exercise. The bridges were defended by Eudes, an officer of courage and talent. Hugo the Abbot, so called from his possessing, though a layman, and a mili- tary leader, the revenues of some abbeys, threw himself into the city of Paris, of which he was count, and with Goselin, bishop of the diocese, ar- ranged its defence. Both distinguished themselves BY THE NORMANS. 81 by their conduct, and both died in the course of the siege. The Normans erected three moveable towers, each capable of sheltering sixty men, and mounted upon wheels, by which they attacked the defences of the bridges. But these towers were dashed to pieces hy the stones hurled on them, or consumed by com- bustibles discharged from engines for that purpose. Battering rams were also used by the Northmen^ with the like indifferent success, being broken by the weight of ctones hurled from the machines of the besieged. The historians of Paris still commemorate the courage of twelve warriors who defended to the last the tower of the Little Chatelet. Being separated from the rest of the fortification by a breach made by the river, they could receive no assistance. When they perceived the desperation of their situa- tion, they gave liberty to the hawks which each had along with him, and died in continuing an unavail- ing defence, with a resolution which would have surprised any people but the Normans, to whom such deeds of desperate valor were familiar. But though the defence of Paris was obstinate, the loss of men and scarcity of provisions began to be distressing. Sigefroy, the King of the Normans, having under him thirty thousand men of that war- like nation, did not confine himself to the operations of the siege, but spread his forces through France, laying waste the country, and collecting supj)lies for his army. His cavalry and chariots of war (which are then lor the last time mentioned in history) per- formed this duty so completely, that the Parisians despatched Eudcs, who had succeeded Hugo the Abbot in the coniiiiand of the place, to the Emperor 82 SIEGE OF PARIS. Charles the Gross, with an account of their situa- tion, and suppHcations for relief. Charles sent Henry, Duke of Saxony, the perfi- dious agent in the murder of Godfrey, to try if his courage could extinguish the flame which his trea- chery had kindled. But as the Duke led but few troops, he could only throw himself into the city with provisions and reinforcements. Shortly after- wards, in an attempt to reconnoitre the lines of the besiegers, this leader fell, horse and man, into a ditch covered with loose straw, laid upon shght hurdles, out of which he could not extricate himself, but was slain, and spoiled of his armour. Paris was now more exposed than ever, for the troops of Henry of Saxony disbanded after his death. Eudes was now, as we have said, count of Paris, and did what man could to animate the spirit of resistance. Another great danger was indeed approaching the Parisians. It was the heat of summer, and the river Seine became so low as to be fordable. Suddenly, at the hour of dinner, when the besieged kept but slender watch, the Normans rush- ed to the river side in one or two bodies, plunged in, and, gaining the opposite bank, began to ascend, by ladders, the low walls, with which, trusting to the usual depth of the water, its margin had been de- fended. A few gallant French champions rushed to arms, and made good the defence, till more came up, and drove back the besiegers, chiefly by the aid, according to the clergy, of the relics of St. Gene- vieve, which were displayed upon the rampart. The day after these extreme dangers, the banners of France appeared on the hill called Mont-Martre, which is hard by Paris, and the approach of the army of the Emperor diffusing the utmost joy and SIEGE OF PARIS RAISED. 83 hope among the citizens, obliged the Normans to retire within their own lines. Sigefroy was at bay, but he was a lion ; and Charles the Gross deserved his name too well to undertake such a risk, as his ancestor, Charlemagne, would have willingly ventured upon. So soon as the Emperor was convinced that the Normans would abide the event of battle, or prosecute their siege of Paris, even in his very sight, if he lay still to await the event, he resolved to end the war by treaty, which he became unwilling to peril upon the event of a battle. By a base composition, he agreed to purchase the retreat of the Normans (whom his own treachery had been the cause of bringing to Paris) for a sum of seven hundred pounds of silver, and consented that the foreigners should take up their winter quar- ters in Burgundy. For this purpose, the Normans desired to ascend the Seine, and Charles would have been wiUing to permit them to pass under the armed walls of Paris, which they had so often assaulted in vain. But the Parisians, who were conscious that they owed their escape from plunder, conflagration, and massacre, more to their own vigilance and bravery, than to the tardy aid of the Emperor, refused to permit the Normans to approach so near their ramparts, that a breach of faith might have endangered their city. Sigefroy and his Normans, therefore, had no other or convenient road to Burgundy, than to draw their light galleys over land, and again to launch them in the river Seine, at a certain distance above Paris ; and so loaded with spoil, they left the neighbourhood of the metropolis whose dignity they had so long insulted. 8-4 DEPOGiTION OF CIIAHLES. As Charles tlio Crross had made a great effort throughout all his dominions, to collect the army which he headed on this occasion, and, as very de* cisive and triumphant results had been anticipated, his subjects, were equally mortified and incensed at the paltry and dishonourable treaty, by which he bought what he might have gained by the sword. Domestic quarrels with his wife, arising out of jealousy, increased the pain, mortification, and dis- honour of his situation. His senses appear to have given way under these complicated distresses. He sunk into a kind of idiocy ; and it was only by the charity of the Bishop of Mentz, that he was saved from being in want of the most ordinary necessaries of life. Arnold, one of his nephews, was chosen emperor in his place ; and the terms in which Charles peti- tioned him for even a bare subsistence, seems to show that his mental disorder had lucid intervals, since he was able to draw so touching a picture of the uncertainty of human affairs. " You," says the deposed emperor, " are now ele- vated to the state from which I have lately fallen. I pray the AU-Powerful to confirm you in your place, and to grant you the protection which He has with- drawn from me. You are on the throne, and I am on the dung-hill which my misconduct has spread for myself. The advantages of mind are still at my command; and no king can grant, or take these away. But, for the support necessary to life, I must ask it from others ; and from none so naturally as from you, one of the race of my fathers, and holding the place from which I have fallen. Among so numerous a household, among so many knights and gentlemen, who share your bounty daily, the simple necessaries EUDES CnOSEfJ KING OF FRANCE. CiO of life bestowed on an old man will be no additional burden." The new emperor was touched by the petition of his humbled predecessor, and fixed upon him the rent of some villages for his maintenance. Charles the Gross did not long survive his humiliation, dying (as some say) by assassination, shortly gg^ after he was deposed. CHAPTER V. We have seen that Arnold, a prince of the blood of Charlemagne, was chosen emperor on the de- position of the unfortunate Charles the Gross. In that part of the deposed monarch's dominions, how- ever, which retained the name of France, the in- habitants appear to have determined to seek for the virtues and talents of Charlemagne elsewhere than in his line, where these fair qualities seem to have become extinct. Eudes, the valiant Count of Paris, ^'o distinguish- ed for his defence of that town, and dear to the people both for his own and his father's virtues, was elevated to the throne by the voice of the people. He showed himself worthy of their good opinion ; for when he proposed himself to the Emperor Ar- nold, as a candidate for the crown of France, he declared himself willing to resign his pretensions, rather than incur the guilt of causing a civil war. The emperor, struck with the generosity of Eudes, at once acknowledged his title ; and he en- VOL. I. 8 DEATH OF E-UDES. tered accordingly upon the government of France. But either the talents and courage of Eudes, though allowed to be great, were inadequate to the purpose of saving this distracted kingdom, or at least he had no opportunity of exercising them to that extent. The harassing and repeated encroachments of the Normans, and the rebellions among his own sub- jects, continued, although the courage of Eudes repressed the one, and subdued the other. He died, esteemed as a patriot monarch by the ggg* common people, whom he protected, but de- tested by the nobility, whom he endeavoured to sub- ject to the strict dependence on the crown, from which they were in the course of altogether freeing themselves. We shall hereafter see, that he was an ancestor of the royal family of Bourbon. Eudes left a son, Arnold ; but he did not succeed to the crown of thorns worn by his father, it being occupied by Charles, a prince of the Carlovingian race, being the son of one of this degenerate family, called Louis the Stammerer. This Charles want- ed neither courage nor good nature. Indeed, it seems to have been an excess of the last, joined to a great degree of indolence, which procured him the historical distinction of The Simple, which he does not seem otherwise to have deserved. Under the reign of so weak a prince, the disorders of the state, which had already risen to so great a pitch, had become general and systematic. To under- stand this, you have only to recollect, that in the time of Charlemagne, who held his sceptre with a firm hand, governments, offices, and even landed estates, were only granted for life to such individuals as the Emperor chose to distinguish. At the death of the person who held the benefice, as the subject THE FEUDAL SYSTEM. 87 of the grant was called, it passed again to the crown, and was conferred elsewhere. But in the declining state of the French monarchy, the great men who were in possession of offices or lands, were naturally desirous of perpetuating their authority in their offices, and their property in estates, to their families. Hence arose, at first in a few instances, and at length from general custom, the formidable novelty, that the vassal had a heredi- tary interest in the fief, and that, far from falling, on the death of the original holder, it was transmitted to his eldest son as a matter of right, he being of course obliged to perform the same services to which his ancestor had subjected himself by accept- ing the benefice in the first instance. Thus the nobles of the first rank, who now took the title indifferently of Duke, Marquis, Count, or the like, were no longer the mere delegates of the sovereign who had conferred the gift upon their pre- decessors, but in all respects, except the title, form- ed an order of petty kings, distributing justice in their own right, coining money, making laws and ordinances, and, except the deference and allegiance which they owed to their superior, the monarch who originally conferred the fief, acting as independent princes, each in his own province. In the courts of these petty princes or great vassals of the crown, the same form of feudal grants took place. The Duke, Count, or Marquis, assign- ed offices, connected with his own little court, and distributed lands to nobles of lower rank, on condi- tion of obtaining their assistance in war and their counsel in peace, being the services which the great vassal himself rendered to the sovereign. These tenures descended still lower. Thus, ii 88 THE FEUDAL SYSTEMc the great vassal had his officers of the household, and his soldiers, who gave him their service, and that of their followers in war, each of these persons had their own household arranged on the same footing, differing only as their vassals and dependants were fewer in number, and less liberally recompensed. The system descended so low, that even ptivate gentlemen had their domestic establishments upon a scale resembling that of the sovereign himself; and though he had only the rank of a vassal, while rendering his attendance on the court of the lord from whom he held his fief, each was, notwithstand- ing, himself a prince when seated in his own tower, and surrounded by his own dependants, bearing the pompous epithets of chief steward, chief butler, or gd'and huntsman, and distinguished as such by these duties at home and abroad. When this system of feudal dependence, from the highest to the lowest rank of society, began to as- sume the form of fixed and assured law, it produced an influence upon government and manners, which was, on several accounts, extremely advantageous, and on others very much the reverse. In the first point of view, it gave a high tone of in- dependence and courage to the nation, thus divided into vassals and superiors, each, from the private gentleman to the sovereign upon the throne, render- ing the same or similar service to his superior, which he received from his vassals, all jealous of their pri- vileges as freemen, tenaciously fond of their personal rights, and equally so of their military reputation. Each vassal paid to his superior that service and homage which his fief, in its pecuhav nature, requir- ed ; but that being once discharged, his obligation was ended, and he was as free a man a,'3 his superior LEODES AND SERFS. 89 himself. This proud reflection seemed the more justly founded, that those vassals who had divided and subdivided among them the province of Gaul, were almost all descended from the Franks, Bur- gundians, and other tribes of the barbarous but free conquerors of the Roman state, equal, therefore, from the beginning, as natives of the same tribe of freemen, who acknowledged no distinction. You will recollect that these conquerors seized upon two-thirds of the land, and apportioned it among themselves, assuming the title of Leodes, signifying freemen. i . . The Roman colonists, on the other hand, whom the barbarians had subdued, were permitted to cul- tivate the remaining third, which was left by the con- querors for their subsistence. It was by their hands that almost all the agriculture of the country was car- ried on, which necessary, though irksome task, the Leodes left to the charge of the serfs^ or bondsmen, for to that station were the unhappy Romans reduced, and by that disgraceful epithet were they known. Not only did their labours supply the country with corn, but such tribute as was levied in the province, was exclusively paid by this degraded class of the nation. The freeman hunted, fished, or went to war, at the call of his superior, or his own inchnation ; but he paid no tax, and put his hand to no labour. The pasturages were stocked with cattle, often the spoils of war, which were kept either by serfs or domestic slaves ; for both kinds of servitude were knov/n to the French, and the laws of war placed the captive at the pleasure of the conqueror, unless he was able to purchase his freedom by a ransom. It naturally followed, that the men who thus enjoyed independence, and escaped every species of toil 8* 90 INDEPENDENCE OF THE except that of Avarfare, -were a bold and high- spirited race, and that sensible of the value of their freedom, accustomed to connect their liberty with the feats of their ancestors, they were alive to every encroachment upon it, and always ready to vindicate what they held so dear, from the slightest attack of domestic oppression. Their nobles and gentry grew up a fine race, and were improved by such Normans as settled among them ; and you will presently see that the numbers of these were very great. They were ready warriors, generous, and true to their word, and in so far the character of the French nation was highly improved by the introduction of the feudal system. In other respects, the independence of the crown vassals on the king, and that of the barons of the second order upon the crown vassals, an indepen- dence which descended to the lowest link of the feudal chain, formed but a feeble system of govern- ment, and gave an insecurity to the ties which bound together the national compact. The whole king- dom, instead of a country havmg one interest and one government, seemed at first sight divided among the great vassals of the cro\ra, none of whom was disposed to admit the king to possess or exercise more power over him than the monarch was strictly entitled to by the rules of the feudal tenure. This sphit of resistance was the more awake, as these great feudatories considered the diminution of the king's influence as the ready mode of increasing their own, and many probably looked forward to the time when each grand vassal might altogether shake himself free from the feudal yoke, and possess his dukedom or county in his own right, as an indepen- dent prince. GREAT VASSALS. 91 Upon looking at the condition of the crown vas- sals more closely, it might be observed, that the same principle of disunion which induced them to encroach upon the rightful claims of the crown for obedience and support, was undermining their own, and that their vassals and dependants were frequent- ly disposed to refuse that service to them which they hesitated to grant to the crown. It was the result of both circumstances, that the unanimous power of the nation could not be easily exerted, while it was divided and torn asunder by so many subjects of dispute and hostility. To this disunion was also to be attributed the oppressive rights assumed by the feudal lords within their own territories, where the barons of inferior rank, without even the pretence of right or justice, oppressed and ruined the unhap- py serfs, and robbed, spoiled, and murdered without any check, save their own haughty pleasure. It could not be said, as an excuse for these abuses, that there was no king in France, buf it might have been well urged, that the crown, besides being placed on the head of the simple Charles, was divested in a great measure of that authority which prevents crimes, and the power which inflicts upon them condign punishment. Amid these internal disorders of the French, the repeated invasions of the Northmen assumed an aspect so formidable, that it was plain they were not made with the mere purpose of spoil, but in order to establish a lasting conquest either of the whole kingdom, or of some of its principal provinces. A large army and fleet of this brave and lawless people appeared at the mouth of the Seine, formi- dable from their unwonted degree of discipline, and the respect and obedience which they paid to their 92 INVASION OF ROLLO. prince. This was Hrolfe, or Rollo. By birth he was son of the King of Denmark, distinguished by his conduct in many expeditions both in Britain and France, and having in his personal character a re- spect for truth and iidehty to his word, which was not a usual characteristic of his countrymen. One large body of his forces sailed up the river Loire, and destroyed the cathedral of St. Martin of Tours, the same patron of whose rigid exactions Clovis for- merly complained, and whose shrine had been en- riched in proportion to his popularity. Another body, commanded by Rollo in person, ascended the Seine, took the city of Rouen, and treating the in- habitants with moderation, fixed their head-quarters there, and deposited within its walls the spoil which they accumulated from all parts of the province of Neustria, of which Rouen is the capital. Charles the Simple, though courageous enough in his person, was, according to the indolent habits of his race, desirous of putting a stop to this peril by composition rather than by battle. He made a truce with the Norman prince, in order, as he pre- tended, to give time for a more solid peace. But by the advice of Richard, Duke of Burgundy, Charles broke the truce he had himself made, and engaged in hostilities. Rollo was defeated near Chartres, owing, it is said, to the excitation given to the French by the appearance of the Bishop of Chartres, in front of the battle, in his episcopal robes, and holding in his hand the supposed veil of the Virgin. After the battle, the victors drew a circimivalla- . tion around a hill to which Rollo had retreated with the remainder of his army. But the Norman was not without his resource. He alarmed the caijip of ROLLO MADE DUKE OF NORMANDY. 93 the French by a charge blown near to their bulwarks at the dead of flight, and while the besiegers were running about in terror and disorder, the Norman prince cut his way through them, and his army be- ing greatly reinforced, soon found the means of making more merciless havoc than he had done be- fore the truce. Charles was now obliged to resume his negotia- tions with the Norman prince, \vith more good faith than formerly. Using the Bishop as an ambassa- dor, he suggested to Rollo, that if he consented to embrace the Christian religion, and assume the character of a loyal vassal, the king was willing to confer upon him as a fief the fertile province hither- to called Neustria. This princely district Charles proposed as the dowery of his daughter Gisele, who was to become the wife of Rollo, although she was only ten or twelve years old, and her redoubted bridegroom fifty years at least, Rollo accepted of these favourable terms, with the sole addition, that as Neustria, the name of which he changed to Normandy, was exhausted by his previous ravages, he rtipulated that part of Bre- tagne, or Brittany, should be assigned to him in the interim, for the more easy support of his army. Rollo adopted the Christian faith with sufficient de- cency, and at the font exchanged the heathen name of Rollo for that of Robert. But when the new- Duke was to receive investiture of Normandy from Charles, his pride was startled at the form, which required him, in acknowledgment of the favour be- stowed on him, to kneel to his liege lord, and kiss his foot. " My knee shall never bend to mortal," said the haughty Norman ; " and I will be, on no 94 -SETTLEMENT OF NORMANDY account, persuaded to kiss the foot of any one what- ever." The French counsellors present suggested that this difficulty might be surmounted by Rollo, or Ro- bert, appointing a deputy to kiss, in his name, the foot of Charles. Accordingly, the Duke command- ed a common soldier to perform the ceremony in his stead. The man showed the small value he at- tached to the ceremony, by the careless and disre- spectful manner in which he performed it. Instead of kneeling to salute the royal foot, he caught it up and performed the ceremony by lifting it to his mouth. In this awkward operation, the rude Nor- man well nigh overturned the simple king, throne and all, and exposed him to the laughter of all around. The essentials of the treaty were more satisfac- torily settled. Rollo entered upon his new domi- nions, and governed them with the strictest justice, becoming, from a fierce and lawless pirate, a wise and beneficent prince. He was so severe in the execution of robbers, the multitude of whom was one of the great abuses of his time, that at length, it is said, rings of gold w^ere exposed publicly in waste places, without incurring the least risk that any one should take them away. The very exclamation of the name of Raoul, or Rollo,* was, long after the good prince's death, ut- tered by persons who were sufl'ering what they con- ceived to be injustice. Hence the frequent repeti- tion of " Haro! and Well away !" as expressions of * Pronounced Haro, which shows, that the strict course of justice for which this Duke of Normandy was famous, had commenced before he had adopted the Christian name of Robert. Haro is the word still used in the courts of Jersey and Guernsey, when a iudsment is complained of, and an appeal entered. AS AN INDEPENDENT STATE. 95 sorrow, in our ancient authors. The Norman fol- lowers of Rollo were also converted to the Christian creed, and reclaimed from the errors of paganism. They abandoned the bloody ritual of their own an- cient faith, without losing any part of the dauntless courage and contempt of death which it inspired. They also received readily such ideas of honour as the French began to entertain, which afterwards led to the system of chivalry; and under. that process we shall soon see the Normans distinguished for the eagerness with which they tempered their cou- rage and contempt of danger with the high-minded metaphysics of Love and Honour. This is easily understood, if we consider, that the hardest pebbles are most fit to receive the highest polish. The state of Normandy, thus established in inde- pendence, save the uncertain allegiance of its Duke being a crown vassal to the sovereign of France, was destined, a century afterwards, to give a dynasty of kings to England, and has been rendered illus- trious by producing as many men of courage and gallantry as have ever adorned any country of the world. The unfortunate Charles the Simple was so sunk in indolence, that he added to his other weaknesses that of throwing himself and his affairs into the hands of a gentleman named Haganon, of moderate birth, and as moderate talents. To this obscure and unworthy favourite Charles was so obviously and extravagantly attached, that the Duke of Saxony said, " Surely these men are so much united, that by and by they will be equal in condition, either by Haganon becoming a king, hke Charles, or Charles a private gentleman, like Haganon." This unworthy attachment was the source of va- 96 DEATH Oi- CHARLES THE SIMPLE, rious rebellion?, in repressing which, Charles showed himself to advantage, as a man of action, killing with his ow^n hand one of his most formidable com- petitors. But in counsel he was as rash and impo- litic as ever. His reign was disturbed, not only by the invasion of bands of Normans, whom the Duke of Normandy's success had dravrn to the shores of France by shoals, but that of Hungarians, or Bul- garians, a people descended from the ancient Huns. These barbarians were guilty of great cruelty, leav- ing a terrible impression upon the minds of the French, which is said to survive in the nursery tales concerning the cannibals called Ogres, the origin of which is to be found in the atrocities of the Bulga- rians, or Huns, of the ninth and tenth centuries. At length, amidst these disasters, the simple King Charles intrusted himself in the power of a treach- erous subject, Hebert, Count of Yermandois, one of his overgrown! vassals, who, after a show of great respect, seized upon his person, and imprisoned him in the Castle of Peronne. Here he is at length supposed to have been murdered. Rodolph succeeded Charles, who, as regards the line of Charlemagne, may be termed a usurper, for he w^as not descended from that emperor. He filled the throne for fourteen years of perpetual war , and tumult, which his talents, though consi- ^ggg* derable, were unequal to subdue effectually. Charles the Simple had left a child, Louis by name, who, upon his fathers death, had been trans- ported to England by his mother, Ogene, or Thea- gine, who was an English woman, bom soon after Rodolph's death. He received encouragement fo return and assume the fhrone of Fiance, when he became distinguished bv the title of Louis d'Outre- DESCENT OF HUGO, 97 iner, or from beyond sea. Like his predecessors, he was involved in the quarrels and intrigues of the Dukes and Counts, who were too mighty subjects to endure the supremacy of the Crown, and whom he ^ could only rule by the policy of stirring up one against the other. Louis was called from the scene of dissension by his death, occasioned by his 95^" horse falling while at full speed, in pursuit of a wolf. It was now supposed that the Crown, or at least great part of its remaining authority, would be seiz- ed on by Hugo, the Duke of France, called the Great, who had been one of those potent vassals with whom Louis d'Outremer had been repeatedly at war during his life. It is certain that this peer, then the most powerful in France, was descended from Robert, called the Strong, who flourished in the ninth century. Flattery, for the gratification of his descendants, has invested several genealogies for this person, one of which connects him with Charlemagne, though by an illegitimate branch. It is more certain that his successors rose to great consequence. His eldest son, Eudes, distinguished at the siege of Paris, was afterwards chosen King of Aquitaine, and was proclaimed King of Western France, in 888 ; but his line was extinguished in the person of his son Rodolph. The second son of Robert the Strong was that Robert IL, Duke of France, who made war against Charles the Simple, and whom that monarch is said to have slain with his own hand.' The grandson of Robert I., and son of Robert II., was this Hugo, called the Great, Duke of France and -Burgundy, and Count of Paris. He had vari- YOL. I. 9 98 TREACHERY OF LOTHAIRE. ous disputes with Louis the Ultramarine, so that, as we have hinted, it was expected by many that at his death the Duke would have seized on the crown, which had been worn by his uncle Eudes. But Duke Hugo, as was prophesied of Banquo, was destined, though he never wore the crown himself, to be father of the powerful family of Bourbon, so distinguished in past ages for their power, and in our own for their misfortunes. The Duke Hugo, of whom we have spoken, fol- lowed the dictates of principle rather than ambition. He took up the cause of Louis' son Lothaire, a boy of about fourteen years old, and conducted him to Rheims, where he directed the ceremony of his coronation, and afterwards deported himself in every respect as a dutiful subject. He defeated the Count of Poitiers in a decisive battle, and gave a sharp les- son of submission to the great vassals who might be disposed to rebel against the king. In the subsequent year he died, leaving behind him four sons. The eldest, Hugo, was distinguish- ed from his father of the same name, by the sur- name of Capet, (or Caput,) but whether from the unusual size of his head, or the extent of his powers of understanding, is somewhat uncertain. The brothers of Hugo Capet were Otho, Eudes, and Henry, who were successively Dukes of Burgundy. For Hugo himself, fate reserved a fairer diadem. Lothaire, sensible of the father's merits, received the sons into favour, and acknowledged them as suc- cessors in the fiefs of the great Hugo. But he em- broiled himself in a quarrel vvith Duke Richard, of Normandy, the second successor of Rollo, or Ro- bert I., in that almost independent principality : and, by advice of Theobald, Count of Chartres, called WAR WITH GERMANY. 99 the Trickster, endeavoured to overreach him by in- viting him to an interview. Duke Richard complied with the invitation with- out hesitation, and set out on his journey to the place appointed. He was met by two knights of the Count of Chartres, who, pitying his unsuspicious loyalty, gave him indirect notice of the design against his person, by asking him, whether he was tired of his ducal coronet, and had a mind to become a shep- herd. Duke Richard, taking the hint which this question coiivcyed, rewarded the knights who gave it, bestowing on the one a gold chain which he wore, and on the other his sword. He instantly returned to Rouen, and took up arms against the treacherous king, obtaining such succours from his original coun- try of Denmark, as soon brought Lothaire to request a peace, which was made accordingly. Another vrar broke out between Lothaire, King of France, and Otho, Emperor of Germany. Lothaire showed, in the commencement, both spirit and acti- vity. He marched with such rapidity upon Aix- a. r>. la-Chapelle, that he had nearly made the Em- 9'^8. peror prisoner, who fled, leaving his dinner ready pre- pared and placed on the table. Otho, to revenge this insult, invaded France with sixty thousand men, and advanced to the gates of Paris, sending word to Hugh Capet, count of the city, that he would cause a mass to be sung on the summit of Mount Martre, by so many voices, that the count should hear the sound in the Isle of Paris. The King of France and Hugo Capet revenged this insult by a rapid movement to the relief of Paris, and defeated the Germans with very great slaugh- ter. A nephew of Otho, who had sworn (for oaths of chivalry were then becoming fashionable) to strike 100 DEATH OF LOUIS. his lance into the gate of Paris, was slain in the bat- tle. But Lothaire lost the fruit of this victory by acceding to a peace, which disappointed the hopes of his subjects, and especially to the army, elated by victory. Conscious of a loss of reputation, he en- deavoured to strengthen himself in the love and af- fection of his subjects, by raising to be the partner of his throne, his son Louis, known by the discredit- able title of the Faineant, or Foolish. But Lothaire was not permitted to receive any benefit,- if such could accrue, from such a stroke of policy,' as he died at Rheims immediately afterwa^rds, and •'^- ^• not without the suspicion of poison. Louis, called the Faineant, did nothing which could be termed inconsistent with his name. He quarrelled with the queen, and v/ell nigh engaged in a new war with Germany. But before he had reign- ed fourteen months, he died under the same suspi- cion of poison which attached to his father's demise. This weak and unhappy prince was the last of the Carlovingian race, vvhich had occupied the throne of France for upwards of two hundred and thirty years. 101 CHAPTER VI. You must keep in memory, that since the insti- tution of the government of France as a monarchy, two races of kings had existed. The long-haired monarchs, or kings of the Merovingian race, who sank under the rising fortunes of Pepin and Char- lemagne, were the first dynasty. The Carlovingian race, deriving the title from Charles the Great, which superseded that of Merovseus, and reigned in his stead, constituted the second. The third change of dynasty, which took place at the death of Louis le Faineant, may be attributed to causes which shall be shortly touched upon. J. Under neither of these dynasties was the right of hereditary succession so well defined and under- stood as it was latterly. The brother often suc- ceeded to a deceased monarch, instead of his son, without reference to the degree of propinquity to tbe last king. After the deposition of the Merovingian line, the Bull of Pope Zacharias, which assigned the royalty to the race of Pepin, enjoined the French in future, in choosing their emperor, to select him exclusively from the race of the chosen candidate, to whose family it stood limited. This limitation, however, did not establish a strict hereditary line of succession, for, as understood in practice, it was sufficiently adhered to, provided the candidate for sovereignty was of the race of Pepin or Charlemagne ; so that the empire lay open as an object of temptation to all who boasted a descent from the chosen family, however distant from the 9* 102 THE CARLOVINGIAN KINGS. right of succession in a direct line. The conse- quence was, that as the covetous eyes of so many princes were fixed on the same tempting object, the want of a regular and fixed rule of inheritance occasioned great disputes, which led to the repeated division and subdivision of the royal dominions, not only weakening the body of the empire, but often terminating in bloody civil wars, by wliich it was still farther torn to pieces. II. The empire of Charlemagne comprehended a huge mass of territory, extending from the Tiber to the Elbe, and from the Pyrenean mountains to the borders of Hungary, consisting of many nations, differing in descent, laws, language, and manners, whom chance and the abilities of one individual had united for a time under one government, but which had an internal propensity to fall asunder, so soon as the great mind w^hich held them together was removed. Hence, it was not long before the king- dom of France was separated from that of Italy, and from the empire, latterly so called, of Germany. III. The grants which were made to the great officers of state, and vassals of the crown, had their natural influence in impoverishing the moaarchs of France ; so that, during the reign of the tw"0 or three last monarchs of the Carlovingian line, almost every considerable city in the kingdom was in pos- session of some duke, count, or baron, who col- lected revenue from it, excepting only Laon and Rheims, and some family estates, which the kings possessed on the same footing, and managed in the same manner, as tliey would have beenadmmistered by private individuals. Vhe Carlovingian family being reduced to so low an ebb in point of power and wealth, it was not to be ACCESSION OF HUGO CAPET. 103 wondered at, if the nobility of France resolved to fill the throne with some more powerful prince. Charles Duke of Lorraine was, no doubt, the bro- ther of Lothaire, and the next heir, therefore, to Louis Faineant, his deceased nephew. But he was far inferior in talents to Hugo Capet, who had long been esteemed the first man of the kingdom in point of wealth, the second probably in point of rank, and the first in actual power. He was Duke of Burgundy and Aquitaine, Count of Paris and Orleans, and in addition to these dig- nities, bore even the title of Duke of France, though antiquaries do not fully state the import of this last title. He brought far more wealth to the crown of France, than he could inherit by succeed- ing to it, and he was known to his contemporaries as the best general and wisest statesman of his time. Hugo Capet availed himself so well of these advan- tages, that, on the death of Louis le Faineant, he assembled the states of the kingdom, con-'^gg^' sisting probably of the principal crown vassals, with the bishops and prelates, and by unanimous assent was chosen King of France. With a view, probably, to establish the security of the crown in his own family, Hugo Capet, who had already been successful against some of the lords who had refused him their allegiance, proposed to associate his son Ptobert in the same dignity, and obtained the assent of the States to that asso- ciation. Having thus, as far as human prudence could command the future, done his best to secure the crown in his family, Hugo Capet laid aside the royal state and kingly attire, and lived simply and mo- destly, as before his accession to the throne. Charks 104 WISE MEASURES OF HUGO CAPET. of Lorraine, the Carlovingian heir to the crown, attempted, though tardily, to vindicate the succes- sion, but was surprised and made prisoner by the elected monarch ; and being thrown into prison at Orleans, was detained there till his death. The son of Charles succeeded him in the Duchy of Lor- raine, but died without male issue ; and in his 991^'person, the legitimate succession of the re- nowned Charlemagne became extinct. The head of the new race of kings behaved with a wisdom and steadiness which tended to secure the succession of his family ; for though brave men may gain kingdoms, it is wise men only who can transmit them to their lineage. Hugo Capet bent his mmd to sooth all discontents, and to please every class of his subjects. He flattered and gra- tified the clergy by resigning to them such abbeys as he possessed, and induced many of his nobles to follow his example, for which he was highly lauded by the church. As a wise man, he saw the danger arising to the kingdom from the independent state of the turbu- lent nobility ; but he sa^v, also, that the evil was too great to be remedied, and was contented to confine himself to slow and temporizing measures. He de- manded little more from the crown vassals than the Ijomage, which, while he limited his claim to it, they had no interest to refuse, and while he encour- aged them to weaken each other by intestine wars, he determined silently to await the time, when by degrees the power of the crown should rise upon their ruins. The spirit of the present race of nobles was such as would have endured no control ; for when Audibert, Yicomte of Periguex, laid siege to the city of Tours, and the king wrote to him com- REIGN OF ROBERT. 105 manding hin\ to desist, asking him i aproachfnlly who had made him vicomte, the ieudai chief rephed with scorn, it was those who had made Capet king ; and persevered in his attack upon Tours, in defiance of the royal mandate. The monarch passed over an insult which he had not sufficient power to revenge. By a rare mixture of wisdom and firm.ness, this king transmitted to his family a throne to which he had no hereditary right, with little opposition, and almost without bloodshed. He died, leav- "^gg ' ing his dominions in perfect tranquillity, after a reign of eight years. Robert, son of Hugo Capet, long associated with his father, was now sole king. He followed in all respects the sagacious and prudent measures of his predecessor, who had bred him up to an intimate acquaintance with his far-sighted and calm policy. From the steadiness of his conduct, the new king acquired the distinction of The Wise. For securing the succession, in particular, Robert followed his Other's policy, which seems for some time to have been peculiar to the Capet family, at least to their earlier princes. He caused his son Hugh to be joined in the government, and he having died without issue, Robert's second son Henry, was crowned in the same manner, ten years after. By this provision, the chance of an alteration in the suc- cession was much diminished, since the lineal suc- cessor was placed in possession of the regal power before the death of his predecessor, and so might instantly assume the reins of government wdien that event took place. The peace of Robert was somewhat disturbed by. the political intrigues of his two successive queens, to whose ambition he appears to have given more 106 REIGN OF ROBERT. free course than consisted with the prudence of his character in other respects. He had also some trouble from the disobedience of his sons ; but these were only passing disturbances, -and soon appeased. The reputation of Robert for wisdom and justice stood so high, that the Emperor of Germany having some dispute with the Count of Flanders, and others of his vassals, both parties agreed to reter them to the decision of the King of France. Upon this business the two princes had a meeting on the banks of the Meuse. In these unhappy times, such meet- ings had, from intidelity on the one part or the other, often ended in assassination. The ministers on both sides had accordingly adjusted articles of meeting in person, by which it was proposed, that the two princes should leave the opposite sides of the river, and meet at the same moment in the middle. But the generous emperor, confident in the character of King Robert, set cere- mony and suspicion at defiance, and, crossing the Meuse without scruple, surprised the King of France with a visit in his camp. After thus dispensmg with all etiquette, the busmess in dependence was settled to the satisfaction of all parties. Two years after this interview, the good Emperor Henry died, and was succeeded in his German dominions by Conrade, Duke of "Worms. The Italian subjects of Henry by no means wished to share the same fate, and intimated their desire to submit themselves to the King of France, to whom accordingly they offered the imperial crown, and the kingdom of Italy. But Robert, though this acquisi- tion of another fair portion of Constantine's empire was a brilliant and tempting ofier, perceived at the DEATH OF ROBERT. 107 same time he should, by accepting it, be hurried into a German war, for the sake of a territory separated from France by the Hne of the Alps, and by no means likely to form either an obedient or a useful part of that kingdom. He, therefore, wisely rejected the dominion offered to him, considering it preferable to increase his influence by the improvement of his kingdom at home, than to expend its strength in the task of making himself master of imposing but useless and unprofitable acquisitions of foreign ter- ritories. - King Robert's domestic government was of the same judicious and moderate character which dis- tinguished his foreign politics. He used his royal power for the benefit of his subjects, and protected the lower and oppressed part of them, as much as the temper of the times permitted. His private charity was so extensive, that upwards of a thou- sand poor persons dined at his expense every day, and, in the excess of his royal humility, were, not- withstanding their disgusting rags and sores, permit- ted to approach his person. It is pretended he used to exercise upon them the supposed gift, claimed after- wards both by the kings of France and England, of curing the disease called the king's evil, by their touch and their prayers. King Robert I. of ^q^' France died universally regretted in 1031. Upon the death of Robert I., the line of Capet began to show some symptoms of the dissension which had brought to ruin those of Merovseus and of Charles the Great. The succession of Henry, the eldest son and rightful heir of Robert, was dis- puted by his younger brother Robert. He was encou- raged by his mother, who had always hated Henry, and by several powerful nobles, who were probably iOB ACCESSION OF HJJNRY I. unwilling tbat in another reign, resembling in mode- ration and firmness that of Robert I., the crown should again obtain the adva.ntage which such a tranquil period afforded the king over his nobihty. Robert took his measures so suddenly, and was so well supported, that Henry, with a retinue of only ten or eleven persons was fain to save himself from captivity, by flying to the country of Robert, then Duke of Normandy, for protection. He was received in the strong castle of Fescamp, and the duke, discharging the duty of a faithful vassal, raised all his forces in defence of his liege lord, against the traitorous attempts of his younger brother. The Duke of Normandy advanced into France with his forces, and ravaged the country with such extreme severity, that he obtained for himself the nickname of Robert h Diahle, or Robin the Devil, which gave rise to several fabulous legends, by which minstrels and romancers attempted to account for the origin of so strange an epithet. The two armies were on the point of engaging in a decisive conflict, when Robert, returning to a sense of duty, thought it better to submit to his elder bro- ther, than run the risk of so great a crime as that of slaying him. He submitted accordingly, and was rewarded \vith the Duchy of Burgundy, after which the brothers lived in concert together. Duke Ro- bert of Normandy was rewarded with a considerable accession of territory, so that the strife between the brothers, though brief, was attended by the usual consequences of weakening the crown. Henry I., however, did not lose any opportunity which events oflered of strengthening his throne. Disturbances arose concerning part of Burgundy, next to Mount Jura, which was separate from the REIGN OF IIENUY I. 109 portion assigned to the king's brother Robert, as above noticed. In the course of the wars which en- sued, many forfeitrres were made, and the reunion of the fiefs so forfeited with the crown, served to repair the losses it had sustained in the war between the brothers. Neither did Henry I. fail to avail himself of troubles which arose in Normandy, although he owed a great debt of gratitude to the duke, whose timely aid had, as we have seen, replaced him on the throne. This prince, advancing now in age, began to think of making amends for those violent actions which had in war procured him the title of Robin the Devil. For this purpose, as was the cus- tom of that superstitious period, he conceived no mode of penitence could be so effectual as to go on a pilgrimage to Palestine, called the Holy Land. The desire to see the scenes of miracles, and suf- ferings the most momentous which could be under- gone, was sufficiently rational, and they might no doubt be often visited with effectual advantage to the pilgrim, since we can never be so much dispo- sed to devotion as when we are placed in the very localities where such events have actually passed. But to forsake the moral duties which we are called to discharge, and to ramble over strange countries, neglecting the subjects, families, or whomsoever else have been designed by Providence to rely on our active exertions for support, is gross superstition, not rational religion. At this early period, however, the idea prevailed, that men obtained by their toils, in such a journey, not only pardon for past faults, but indulgence for such as they should commit in future. Duke Robert of Normandy, then, prepared for his YOL. I. 10 110 PILGRIMAGE TO THE HOLY LAND, pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Previous to his departure, he assembled a council of his prelates and high vas- sals ; for you cannot have forgotten, that, like all other feudatories of France, that prince had his own country divided among vassals, who held of him by the same tenure by which he held his duchy of the King of France. He placed before the assembly a son of his own, not born in lawful wedlock, but the child of a woman named Arlotta. This was the famous William, afterwards Conqueror of England. This youth was of so fair a person, and such pro- mising talents, that his father, notwithstanding his illegitimacy, desired he should succeed him as his heir in the dukedom. He prevailed on the states of Normandy to recognise William in this capacity, recommended him to the protection of Henry of France, and Alan Duke of Bretagne, and having thus provided for his succession, he set off upon his pilgrimage, from which he never returned. William, the future Conqueror of England, was thus early put in a conspicuous situation, and was thereby exposed to misfortunes and dangers, which undoubtedly contributed to mature and exercise those qualities which form the character of a great man. His feudal vassals, no longer restrained by the authority of the duke himself, took advantage of the minority of the sovereign to enter into feud with each other, to raise troops, fortify castles, and levy wars at their own pleasure, without awaiting the consent of William, or regarding his prohibition. On the other hand. King Henry, taking advan- tage of these troubles, invaded the Norman fron- tiers, burnt the town of Argenton, and demolished the Castle of Thilleres, under pretext that it ought not to have been fortified without his consent, as NSURREOTION SUFPRESSED. Ill liege lord and paramount. William, or rather those who acted in his behalf, beset with dangers on e very- side, thought it best to accommodate these quarrels with the King of France, even at some sacrifices ; and thus for a time secured the alliance and counte- nance of Henry I. It was tima, indeed, to acquire some effectual support, for a considerable number of malecontent Norman lords had formed a league against Duke William, and had raised an army amounting to twenty-five thousand men, having for its head, Guy of Franche Compte. The united forces of King Henry and the young Duke William, which together did not exceed three thousand men, marched against the insurgents. They engaged the opposing forces near Caen, at a place called Val de jQ^g] Dunes. King Henry was unhorsed by a Norman knight, and nearly slain ; he was rescued, however, and gained a decisive victory, in which very many of the insurgents were killed. William, whose subjects were completely reduced to obedi- ence, reaped all the advantage of this war. But Henry soon after engaged in other quarrels and discussions, by which new dissensions were created in Normandy. These disputes he wilfully fostered, with the view of diminishing the strength of this overgrown vassal, which he looked upon as dangerous to the crown. He was not deterred from this interference by the assistance faithfully and loy- ally rendered him by Duke William, in his quarrel with Stephen and Theobald, two sons and succes- sors of Eudes, Count of Champagne, or by the re- collection that the Duke of Normandy had involved himself in those quarrels, purely to serve him. On the contrary, Henry showed either an enmity against 112 HENRY DEFEATED AT MOirrEMART. William's person, or a jealousy of his power, which he took the following method to manifest :— First, he engaged William of Normandy in a quarrel with Godefroy Count of Anjou, called by the formidable name of Martel, and thus involved these two great feudatories in a war which must necessarily operate to the diminution of the strength of both. When the Duke of Normandy extricated himself from this struggle also wdth reputation and advan- tage, he became the object of the unconcealed jealousy and displeasure of the French king, who then publicly espoused the cause of William of Ar- ques, Count of Toulouse, who laid claim to the duchy of Normandy, as son of Duke Richard II., and, therefore, rightful heir to the crown, on account of WilUam's illegitimacy. Henry accordingly en- tered Normandy with a strong army, to dispossess the young friend, with whom he had been so lately in alliance. But William was now of an age to display his wisdom and courage. By a rapid and sudden 10^! ^ig^^ attack near Mortemart, and a severe bat- tle on the following day, he worsted the French army, with the loss often thousand men. This, fol- lowed by other severe checks, induced Henry to consent to peace. Cordiality, however, never was restored between William and the king ; and, in those mutual feuds, first began that enmity which cost so many bloody wars between the descendants of Henry, King of France, and of William, whose posterity succeeded him as Kings of England. After his pacification with the Duke of Norman- dy, Henry turned himself to that which was a favou- rite piece of policy in the House of Capet. We have already explained, that this was the association MINORITY OF PHILIP. 113 of a successor in the throne, in order to secure sta- bihty in the royal succession. Philip, the eldest of Henry's sons, was raised, at the early age of seven years, to share the throne of his father, who died in the same year, led,Ving his son under jQgJl the guardianship of Baldwin of Flanders, called, from his worth and religion, the Pious. Henry left behind him a tolerably fair character, except in regard to his Machiavellian intrigues to diminish the power of his great vassals. It is true, the precarious situation of the Kings of France had, for some time, suggested such a policy ; but in fol- lowing it, Henry I. trampled not only upon the vir- tue of justice, but of gratitude. CHAPTER VH. It is necessary to say little more of the minority of Philip, than that, for a country so disturbed as France, it passed with little interruption of the pub- lic peace. This was chiefly owing to the wise go- vernment of Count Baldwin, who remained always upon his guard against treachery from every quarter, taking care, at the same time, to give no pretence for such practices, by offending any of the ^-eat no- bles. The Gascons indeed, a people of a fiery and changeable disposition, at one period meditated a revolt. But the Count of Flanders, raising a con- siderable force, under pretence of threatened inva- sion by the Saracens, led an army so suddenly into Aquitaine, as to render their design abortive. 10* 114 ORIGIN OF CHIVALRY. But although France had, in its interior, little materials for history during this period, enterprises were undertaken by individuals who emigrated from thence during the reign of Henry I. and the mino- rity of Phihp, which strike the mind with astonish- ment, considering the important effects produced by the desperate courage of a few men. The ruling character of the agents, in the extraordinary efforts which I am about to relate to you, requires now to be stated. It was in many respects different from the principles by which mere barbarians are guided, but varied no less from those views and notions which direct civilized nations. On this account it becomes necessary, perhaps, to look far back into the commencement of society, to find the original germ of that system of chivahy, which occasioned so many marvellous actions during the middle ages, and, in some important par- ticulars, still preserves its effects upon our present manners. The origin of the institution of knighthood, being the basis of chivalry, may be easily traced. The warriors of the ancient Gallic tribes, who fought on horseback, and were more highly esteemed than the infantry, were termed, by the Romans, Equites, or Horsemen, a rank of soldiery possessing consider- able precedence over others. The Germans approached the modern ideas of knighthood more closely. The youth was not ac- counted fit for sharing the councils of his tribe, un- til the age of twenty-one years was attained, when, certain ceremonies being used, he was brought into the public assembly, invested with arms resembhng those of his elder brethren ; and, in short, admitted to all the privileges of an adult warrior. The period TRAINING OF KNIGHTS. 115 of his admission into the councils of the freemen and warriors of the nation, added, of consequence, to the young man's importance, and qualified him to act as a chief and principal in war, where his ser- vices hitherto had been only used as a private sol- dier and follower. These regulations led to the establishment of an order of champions among the Franks and other German nations, who had achieved settlements in Gaul, or France, as it was now called. Those who were ambitious to distinguish themselves by mili- tary fame, which comprehended, speaking generally, almost all who held fiefs, whether of the sovereign or subjects, or who were otherwise entitled to the name of freemen, were carefully educated in horse- manship, the use of the lance and sword, manage- ment of the horse, and other warlike exercises. During this training, the young men, who were for the time called pages, resided as a part of the house- hold of some king, noble, or man of rank, whose family was supposed to be a school of mihtary dis- cipline. When arrived at a certain age, the page, as able to support the duties of war, became an esquire, and waited immediately upon his lord in battle, or during travel, serving him as a close and confidential at- tendant, and always ready to peril his life for him. This, though a species of servitude,was not reckoned degrading ; but, on the contrary, the candidate for the highest honours of chivalry was not accounted worthy of them, until he had shown, by the patient obedience of years as a squire, that he was worthy to command others in the capacity of a knight. When he was esteemed fit for the rank, the can- didate was then dubbed knight. In the ceremony, 116 CEREMONY OF IVTAKING KNIGHTS. some things were taken from the ancient mode of receiving the youths into the councils of the war- riors, while their ancestors still inhabited the forests and swamps of Germany. A sword was girded around the aspirant's body ; spurs were bound upon his heels ; the person by whom the ceremony was performed, struck the acolyte of chivalry on the shoulders with the flat of his naked sword, and he was thus invested with a high military dignity, which, in a certain sense, placed him, however poor, upon a level with the wealthiest and most powerful no- bles ; for, in theory, all knights were equal, except in so far as they excelled each other in military fame. Other ceremonies were mingled with those we ■ have mentioned, which had been introduced by the churchmen, who naturally desired to attach to a solemnity so striking, something connected with the forms of religion. In many cases, accordingly, the young knight watched his arms for the night in some church or chapel, and occupied himself in watching and prayer. He also took a solemn oath to protect, at his utmost risk, the cause of the Catho- lic religion ; to redress by his valour such wrongs, and abolish such evil customs, as he might dis- cover ; an herculean task, at the time when almost every district groaned under the tyranny of some petty despot, who oppressed the poor without their having any one to appeal to. The protection of widows and orphans, and of the female sex in all ranks of society, was also enjoined. Lastly, fidelity to the king, chief, or lord, was sworn to by the young knight. By these means the order of knighthood was rendered in theory an association, DUTIES OF KNIGHTHOOD. 117 bound by oath to forward the discharge of all the social duties v/hich religion enjoined. It is not to be supposed that all, or many of the knights thus created, arrived even within a few points of the excellence which they were in this respect required to attain. Some, however, whose character in adhering to these vows, had recom- mended them to the age as very perfect examples of chivalry, obtained the general approbation of prince and people ; and he was most valued who exposed hiaiself to the most extravagant dangers in the support of his character for courage. It cannot be denied, that while the institutions of chivalry gave an air of romantic dignity and gran- deur to the manners of the age, while the system continued to flourish, stigmatizing all that was base and selfish, and encouraging the knights, who would be held desirous of public applause, to seek it by exhibiting the purest faith, and the most undaunted courage, without being seduced from their purpose by the prospect of advantage, or deterred from it by the most alarming dangers, there mixed, neverthe- less, with these generous maxims, much that was extravagant, wild, and sometimes absolutely ridicu- lous. Every knight, for example, was expected to devote his affections to some fair lady, v/hom he was to serve for years, and v/ith unaltered fide- lity, although, perhaps, neither her rank in life, noi her inclinations, entitled him to expect any return of her affections ; nay, although the lady, having con- ferred her hand on some other person, could return his supposed passion with no other regard than gratitude might permit. All the deeds of valour which he performed, were supposed to be owing to 118 TOURNAMENTS. the influence of this terrestrial goddess, and the champions wearied out their imaginations in outvy- ing each other in the feats of arms which they did, or proposed to do, in the name of their mistresses. The system of chivalry also involved the great error of intrusting the guardianship of almost all civil rights to the decision of the sword, so that it was scarcely possible for a man of low rank to ob- tain justice, unless he was prepared to fight for it in the lists, or had some champion willing to fight in his cause. The very sports of chivalry involved the risk of life. The military exercises of tilts and tourna- ments in which they encountered each other with lances, each endeavouring to keep his own saddle, and at the same time to unhorse his antagonist, were their favourite pastime. On this occasion, each knight supported the beauty and merit of some par- ticular lady, the influence of whose charms was supposed to stimulate him to victory, as her fame was, on the other hand, extended by his success. These warlike entertainments were the delight of the age, and though repeatedly prohibited by the church as inhuman and unchristian, were solemnly practised, nevertheless, at the courts of the different sovereigns of Europe, who displayed their magni- ficence in the splendour with which the feats of chi- valry were performed in their own presence, while the ladies looked on from the balconies, to grace the victors with their applause. The encounter pro- fessed to be a friendly one, an amicable trial in arms, and the combatants expressed the utmost regard for each other. But this did not prevent the lives of many brave champions being lost in the rough sport, which was rather a regular and modified kind of ORIGIN OF CHIVALRY IN FRANCE, 119 actual battle, than as it professed to be, a mere imitation of war. It is certain that, from the respect towards the female sex enjoined by the laws of chivalry, om- mo- dern times have derived that courteous deference and respect for women, which assigns to the ladies in the cultivated countries of Europe, an importance in society so different from the state of degradation to which they are reduced in other quarters of the world. But it is more difficult to imagine how this high and romantic tone had been breathed into the institutions of the Franks while a barbarous people. It is probable, that the origin may have been found in the institutions of the old Germans, which, as we before noticed, admitted the females of the tribe to a high degree of estimation ; and as they did not permit their youth to marry till twenty-one years complete, their young warriors were trained up in the habit of distant respect, awe, and venera- tion for those who were to *be companions of their future lives. There is no precise account of the origin of chi- valry ; but there can be no doubt, that, considered under a modern aspect, that remarkable system had its rise in France, to the natural manners of which country the gallantry and devotion to the fair sex which it dictated — not to mention a certain tone of national and personal vanity which it was well cal- culated to advance — were peculiarly congenial. In France, the young warrior, when admitted to the dignity of the new order, was called chevalier^ that is, horseman^ from cheval, a horse, the ancient name of eques, translated into the language of the country, being seized upon to express the newly in- augurated knight. In Germany, the equivalent 120 CHIVALRY ADOPTED BY TKC NORMANS. term of ritter, or rider, was made use of. The origin of the English word knight, which bears the same meaning, is more doubtful. In the Anglo-Saxon language, where the meaning must be sought, hnecht signifies a servant, and was applied, by way of distinction, to the select attend- ants on the prince (as we still call a soldier a ser- vant of the king) — a title readily transferred to the newly-dubbed cavalier, as expressing a chosen and trained warrior. The word does not, however, pre- sent the idea of the origin of the institution so accu- rately as either the French or German word. Nor, although the order of chivalry rose to the highest es- teem in Britain, do we suppose that it was, in a proper sense, known in that island, till, as you shall presently hear, it was brought thither by the Normans, who travelled in arms into various parts of Europe dur- ing the 11th century, overthrowing ancient king- doms, establishing new ones, and outdoing, if that were possible, all the wonders and marvels of chi- valrous romance, by the display they made of it in their own persons. The Normans, we have seen, had now, for a con- siderable time, been inhabitants of France, and es- tablished themselves in the province to which they gave their name. They had become softened, rather than corrupted or subdued, by the advantages and luxuries of their new settlements. They still retained unimpaired the daring and desperate courage with which their fathers had sallied from their frozen oceans to ravage and to conquer the domains of a milder climate ; but they exercised it with more hu- manity, inspired doubtless by their conversion to Christianity. The new institutions of chivalry were speedil/ WARS OF ITALY. 121 adopted by a nation which possessed ah'eady so many points in common with them. So brave a race, imbued from infancy with the principle that death was preferable, not only to flight, but to the manifestation of the least symptom of fear, thought little of the dangers which might have terrified others in the exercise of chivalry. Like other nations of the north also, the Normans had practised, ere they left their own climate, that reverential and respect- ful conduct towards the female sex, which was another basis of chivalry. The tilt and tourney were, in the opinion of these warlike nations, only a variation of their own com- bats with clubs and swords, in which the pretence was sport, though often turned into earnest by the fury of the encounter. Above all, the more modern Normans united the utter carelessness of danger, and contempt of life, which characterized their ances- tors who fought under Rollo, with the gay valour and love of adventure, which was proper to the inhabitants of France, and which this race kept in practice, by the quarrels of their duke with his sove- reign of France, and with his compeers, the great vassals of the crown. Chivalry flourished in so fertile a soil, and the Norman knights held the first rank among those of Europe. Such being their character, a part of this brave nation found sudden exercise for their feats of arms in the wars of Italy, where they made conquests which flattered their vanity, and gratified their love of glory. To understand this, you must be informed, that, after the descendants of Charlemagne had degene- rated into feeble princes, the towns and coasts of Italy became divided between the Greeks (who re- VOL. I. 11 122 WARS OF ITALY. claimed the possession of that fine country as the original seat of the empire, which was removed to Constantinople by Constantine) and the Saracens. The various incursions of the latter people upon the Christian world had been set on foot for the pur- pose of conquering and converting the provinces which they invaded. They conquered Sicily, and colonized it. The dominions of the present king- dom of Naples next invited their arms, and a strong colony, for a long time maintained at Bari, placed the Adriatic gulf under the command of the naval power of the Saracens. Notwithstanding this, the Greeks, a politic and sagacious nation, contrived to recover Bari, and to establish their authority in a great part of the eastern half of Italy. Luxury, and its enervating consequences, had, however, rendered their armies very unfit to meet the eastern fanatics* But the Emperor of Constantinople still com- manded the services of experienced and cautious generals, and they supplied the deficiencies of their own troops by the daring courage of Franks, Lom- bards, and other barbarians, whom they engaged in their cause. They were also masters of the art of negotiation, and little scrupulous in keeping the terms which they had made, when an opportunity occurred of gaining an advantage, though at the ex pense of good faith. By such means the Greeks maintained a doubtful struggle with the Saracens, which of them should obtain the exclusive posses- sion of Italy. About this period the natives of Normandy, whose temper and habits we have described, began to think of amending their fortunes, by undertaking expedi- tions on their own account, to free the peninsula of Italy at once from the bondage of the Greeks and of NORMAN AUXILIARIES. 123 the Saracens. The former they considered as effeminate tyrants, heretics also, as the Greek church holds some tenets different from that of Rome. As to the Saracens, their character of infidels was suf- ficient to render war against them not only lawful, but a religious and meritorious task. The first attempts of these Norman adventurers were undertaken with too great inferiority of num- bers, to be decidedly successful. For a time they were only remarkable for their desperate courage, which displayed itself in behalf of Germans, Greeks, or even Saracens, who were best able to reward their exertions ; and it was observed that victory seemed to attend in every case the side on which they fought. Their numbers, however, were gra- dually increased by additional recruits from their own country of Normandy, and by some Italians, who joined their ranks, on the condition of observ- ing their customs, and emulating their valour. In the year 1029, the Normans in Italy assumed a more national appearance, and fixed their head- quarters at Aversa, a town conferred on them by the Duke of Naples. Here they lived under the govern- ment of counts, or chieftains, of their own election; and, joining their forces with those of the Greek emperor, did much to achieve the reconquest of Sicily. Being ungratefully requited by the Grecian general, Maniaces, the Normans took arms to punish the ingratitude of their allies. The Greeks assembled a large army, and, confident in their numbers, sent to the Normans to offer them either battle or a safe retreat. " To battle !" exclaimed the Normans, while one of their knights struck down with a blow of his fist the horse of the Gre- cian messenger. 124 WARS OF THE GREEKS AND NORMANS. The Greeks, notwithstanding their superiority in numbers, received a total defeat, and the Normans gained possession of a great part of their dominions in Apulia, a few strong places excepted. They now arrayed their forces under the command of twelve counts, the chief of whom took the title of Count of Apulia. The first who held this title of eminence, was a distinguished warrior named William Braccio di Fer, which means Iron-arm, from his irresistible strength, which he displayed at the expense of both the Greeks and Saracens. But his renown was eclipsed by that of the celebrated Robert Guiscard, a Norman, descended from a race of Vavasours, or petty nobles, who had originally their family seat at Haute ville in Normandy. Robert was the most distinguished among the family of Tancred de Hauteville, although consisting of twelve sons, all of whom, as they became severally of age, forsook their father's castle, and followed the steps of their elder brother, to seek glory or death in the wars of Italy. They were distinguished by their valour and skill in obscure warfare, until the convulsed state of the times permitted them to start forth as leaders and as heroes. Wherever any of these brethren appear- ed, it would seem that fortune attached herself to the standard under v.hich they fought. The great odds of numbers never prevented their obtaining victory ; the utmost severity of suffering or distress never effected the slightest change in their unyield- ing perseverance. The father of this heroic family raised himself from the rank of count to that ol duke, and, in fact, of sovereign prince of Apulia and Calabria. The valour of his brother, Roger, SUCCESSES OF THE GUISCARDS. 125 achieved the conquest of Sicily from the Saracens, and held the sovereignty with the title of count. Robert Guiscard himself waged open war on Atexius Comnenus, the Grecian Emperor, and in the celebrated combat of Durazzo, gained a bloody and well-disputed victory, which shook the very foundations of the imperial throne, although then occupied by a sovereign of peculiar sagacity and courage. But four years afterwards, Guis- toss' <^^^^' ^^^^ ^'^^ achieved so many wonders, died in his seventieth year, while still waging war against Alexius, and endeavouring, by improv- ing his old and devising new resources, to make up the loss he had sustained, rather by the inclemency of the elements than by the sword of the enemy. The male line of this daring adventurer became extinct, but that of Roger, Count of Sicily, survived, to represent the courage, the enterprise, and the ambition of the House of Guiscard. The exploits of the Normans in Italy, and in the East, abound with many interesting and highly chivalrous stories, which would attract your attention, and repay me for the trouble of compiling them, but their con- nection with the history of France is not so near as to permit them to enter into the present collection. As brilliant, and a much more durable effect, of the Norman valour, was produced by the conquest of England. 126 CHAPTER VIII. The Norman Conquest — a great event, which continues its effects even to our own day — w^as for many centuries the abundant source of wars as in- veterate and bloody as the world ever saw. Like other revolutions of that destructive period, it had its remote origin in the feeble and decayed state in which the Romans left the island of Britain, or at least its southern and more fertile moiety, when they withdrew their experienced legions from the defence of the colonists, and, having first deprived them of arms, and allowed their military habits to fall into disuse, left them, unaided, to protect them- selves against the unconquered barbarians of the northern parts of the island, then termed Scots and Picts. . Finding themselves exposed to the attacks of these fierce people, it is well known that the dis- pirited Britons summoned to their assistance the Saxons, a people inhabiting the north of Germany, and the southern shores of the Baltic. A nation thus imploring the defence of stranger tribes, ex- posed themselves of course to their rapacity. The Saxons repelled 'indeed the irruptions of the northern barbarians ; but summoning more of their brethren to share the conquest of a country which the natives could not defend, they gradually occu- pied the fertile lowlands of the island, which became from them first distinguished by the name of Eng- land, (land of the Anglo-Saxons,) and drove the SAXON HEPTARCHY. 127 natives, who continued their resistance, into the northern mountains of Westmoreland and Cumber- land, and the provinces now called Wales, — in which last country the remains of the primitive Gael or Celtic inhabitants of the island are still to be found. This Saxon conquest formed a nation not dissimilar in manners to that of the Franks, as the victors in some degree incorporated with their own nation the conquered Britons and Roman colonists. The Anglo-Saxons, like the Franks, had no very distinct notions of hereditary succession ; and to add to this great inconvenience, the invaders had been drav/n from separate tribes, each of whom ex- pected their portion of the spoil in settlements, and in the privilege of recognising an independent king or chieftain of their own. Hence the impolitic division of England into seven petty kingdoms, called the heptarchy, which existed, exclusive of the tract of country still possessed by the native British. A series of intrigues, and of bloody, though petty wars, was the natural consequence of the claims of the little tyrants of each state. During these con- tests, the country, as a whole, sufiered much, though for some time no one kinglet could obtain any decided advantage. Such small kingdoms have, nevertheless, the same propensities to unite with each other, as may be observed in drops of water which are running down the same plate of glass. By succession, by composition, by conquest, the petty states of the heptarchy were at length melted down into one monarchy, which suffered its full share in the dis- tresses inflicted upon Europe by the invasion of the Normans. Indeed, at that time, the Danes, being the nation of Northmen who chiefly harassed the 128 CHARACTER OF THE NORMANS. coasts of England, were able to establish a dynasty of kings on the English throne, a disgrace to which France had never stooped. On the death of Hardicanute, however, the last Danish prince, the Saxons were again enabled to restore the crown of England to their own royal family, by the election of Edward, called the Confessor, to that dignity. It was chiefly in this prince's reign that the increasing intercourse be- tween the kingdom of England and the Duchy of Normandy, prepared both countries for the impor- tant events which afterwards took place. The Normans, it must be remembered, were a race possessed of as much civilization as the times admitted, who valued themselves, and were prized in foreign nations, both on account of the elevated and ardent chivalry which they displayed in battle, and the lofty and somewhat fantastic manners, which were then accounted courtesy in civil life. In their architecture, their theory of feudal law, their habits of society, their rules of hunting, and their practice of military discipline, they affected a difference from, and a superiority over, the blunter manners of the unrefined Saxons, for whose institutions and habits the courtly and chivalrous Normans entertained a degree of contempt amounting to disgust. But England was a land in which estates were to be acquired, and the Normans, who were always of an emigrating and adventurous disposition, came in numbers to the court of Edward the Confessor, where they were courteously received, and liberally provided for. The king was himself Norman by the mother's side, being descended from Emma, a daughter of Richard I. Duke of Normemdy, grand- CHARACTER OF THE ENGLISH. 129 son of Rollo, or Robert, who founded the princi- pality. Besides, in his youth, the Saxon king had found refuge at the court of Normandy, during the tumults which agitated England, and had become attached to the people and their mode of life, which had in it something more agreeable to a youthful prince, than the blunt, hardy, and almost rude character, of the ancient English. Edward, in consequence of this partiality, introduced into his court the manners, customs, and language of the Normans. The latter was French, for the descendants of Rollo had long forgotten the Danish, or Norse language, spoken by their fathers. The Saxons of England saw, with great resent- ment, the preference given by the king to their Nor- man neighbours. They were jealous of the freedom of their own laws, unfettered by feudal dependence, which gave an assembly of their estates, called Wittenagemot, or the Convention of Wise Men, a wholesome control over the will of the sovereign, and provided for the protection of the lives and liberties of the subjects, affording the groundwork of that stubborn and steady independence of principle, which has distinguished the bulk of the English nation for so many ages. They laughed at and ridiculed the affected refine- ments of the Normans, and, confident in their own courage and their own weapons, were willing to bid defiance to those mail-clad strangers, armed as they were with bows and arrows, the artillery of the period, in which the Normans were held to excel. These missiles could not be totally unknown in Britain, but the archers of Normandy were disciplined, and acted in battle as a separate body. These mutual sub- 130 DEATH OF EDWARD. jects for scorn and jealousy, spread dislike and hatred between the English and their Norman visitors. At the head of the English, or rather Saxon in- terest, were the powerful Godwin, Earl of Kent, and his sons. Under their guidance, the Norman ahens were expelled from England, and the founda- tion of a lasting animosity laid between them and the Saxons, or English. Edward, the reigning mo- narch, retained, however, his partiality for his mo- ther's countrymen. The address and flattery of the Normans pleased a monarch who was not a man of strong mind, and their habits of civil deportment and feudal observances were acceptable to a prince, who objected to the rude remonstrances and homely manners of the Enghsh. Edward maintained an intimate correspondence with William, Duke of Normandy, and appears to have formed a plan of bequeathing to him his king- dom of England. This was, no doubt, a great infringement of the laws, which assigned the king only a life interest in his kingdom ; and besides, by such a bequest the reigning monarch did his utmost to disinherit the real heir of England, Edgar Atheling, in favour of an illegitimate Norman, who, though connected with the Confessor's Norman relations, (for Edward's mother Emma was aunt to Duke William's father,) yet had not a drop of Eng- lish blood in his veins. But the youth Edgar, who had the lawful title of succession to the crown, was absent in Hungary ; and the conduct of Edward, if not blameless, was at least excusable in a well- meaning, but weak monarch. Upon the death of Edward, Harold, one of i(m ^^® ^^^^ ^^ ■'^^^^ Godwin, conscious both of his own great power, extensive influence, and ACCESSION OF HAROLD. 131 known character for sagacity and courage, resolved to disregard alike the claim of Edgar Athehng, the lawful successor to the crown, and that which was preferred by a more formidable competitor, William Duke of Normandy. It is true, that Harold, being driven ashore on the coast of Normandy, had taken an oath to favour the pretensions of Duke William to the English throne, after the death of Edward the Confessor ; but he denied that such an oath was binding, having been, as he alleged, forcibly com- pelled to take it. He availed himself, therefore, of his extensive influence with the English nobles, obtained the office of king by a grant from the assembled nobility, assumed the crown, and was consecrated by the Archbishop of Canterbury. But the throne which Harold had thus taken pos- session of, was menaced from three powerful quar- ters. The first was his own brother Tosti ; the second was Harold Hardrada, King of Norway, a veteran warrior, who threatened instant invasion ; the third was William, Duke of Normandy, who founded his claim on the alleged bequest of Edward the Confessor, and on the oath of Harold to support it. Of these dangers, the third is best deserving oi consideration. William of Normandy, though an illegitimate son, had succeeded to the Dukedom of Normandy as the inheritance of his father, and had been engaged during his youth in so many disputes and wars, both with his own insurgent nobility, and with his liege lord, the King of France, that his understand- ing was matured and his authority confirmed, so as to give him confidence to embark in the daring ex- pedition which he meditated, being nothing less than the conquest of a kingdom, containing dominions 132 INVASION OF ENGLAND. far more extensive, and a population much more mmierous, than his own. He was encouraged in this daring attempt by the undaunted valour so pecuhar to his Norman sub- jects, and which they had displayed in such despe- rate adventures as those of Robert Guiscard and his brethren. If, he might argue, the sons of a simple knight, who led a petty band of ten lances, had, by their indomitable valour, rendered their small resources available to gain great battles, and establish fair principalities, v»hat effects might not be expected from an army composed entirely of Norman warriors, and headed by their duke him- self? Still, however, the forces of Normandy bore a fearful disproportion to those of the kingdom which he purposed to invade ; and Duke Willianr strove to balance the superiority by every means iit his power. For this purpose, he availed himself of his rela- tion to Baldwin, called the Pious, Count of Flan- ders, whose daughter he had married. Baldwin was Regent of France during the minority of Philip the First, and, by his license and management, the Duke of Normandy was permitted to publish throughout France proposals to all brave warriors,, who wished to gain honour or wealth, to join him in his present enterprise. A vast number of knights and warriors, from different parts of the kingdom, hastened to join an expedition of a character so peculiarly seductive to the imaginations of the age, and the army of Normandy was augmented, in point of numbers, by the addition of a large proportion of those in France who were ambitious of obtaining fame in chivalry. Count Baldwin has been, in his capacity of NORWEGIAN INVASION. _ 133 Guardian of France, censured for affording the faci lities which enabled a vassal of that kingdom, al- ready too powerful, to raise himself to a pitch of equality with his liege lord, as was the final conse- quence of this expedition. But the issue of so dubious an attempt might have fallen out otherwise, and then the power of Normandy, instead of being increased, must have been broken by the invasion of England. Besides, it must for ever remain a ques- tion, whether, in granting these means of augment- ing the army of William, Baldwin did not avert the risk of a war with Normandy, at the expense of assisting him in a distant and hazardous enter- prise, the brilliant success of which could not be foreseen. The army which the Duke assembled for his daring expedition, amounted to fifty thousand horse, and ten thousand infantry. These were all chosen men, and the disproportion between the cavalry and infantry showed William's superiority in the force which was then held the most effective part of an army. To transport this large body of men, William constructed, or assembled, a fleet of three thousand vessels ; and to sanctify his undertaking, he obtain- ed the benediction of the Pope, who appears to have had little to do with the quarrel. While this cloud was gathering on the coast of Normandy, the attention of Harold of England was withdrawn from its progress by a danger yet more imminent. His brother Tosti, after an attempt at insurrection which had been easily subdued, had fled to Harold Hardrada, King of Norway. This gi- gantic champion and valiant warrior united a large army with the followers of the insurgent Tosti, VOL. I. 12 134 BATTLE OF STAMFORD. sailed up the Humber, gained several advantages, and obtained possession of York. The attention of Harold the Saxon was imperi- ously summoned to this new enemy, against whom he instantly marched. "When he arrived in face of the invaders, he endeavoured, by offering terms to his brother Tosti, to induce him to v/ithdraw from his foreign ally. " But if I accept these condi- tions," said Tosti, " what shall be the compensa- tion to the King of Norway, my ally ]" — " Seven feet of English land," answered the envoy ; " or, as Hadrada is a giant, perhaps a little more." On these terms, the English and Norwegians loee! ^^^^^ off their conference, and a dreadful battle, at Stamford, near York, was the con- sequence. The armies fought with incredible valour, and there was much slaughter on both sides ; but Harold of Norway lost his life and the battle, while Harold of England, though enfeebled by the loss of many of his best troops, remained victorious. But he was instantly called upon to meet more formidable adversaries in William and his army, who had ar- rived at Pevensey. Unhappily for Harold, far too little respite was allowed him to recruit his forces after so bloody an action. Three days only inter- vened between the defeat of the Norwegian, and the arrival of William on the English coast. The Duke of Normandy was speedily apprized that Harold was approaching at the head of an army flushed with victory. William, who had no rein- forcements to expect, determined not to avoid a battle. Harold, though he might more prudently have delayed till he recruited his diminished army, determined to seek for an encounter without loss of BATTLE OF HASTINGS. 135 time. Both princes met on tiie fatal and memorable field of Hastings. Taillifer, a minstrel of eminence at the court of the Duke of Normandy, began the fight. He sung the war-song of Roland, composed on the victories of Charlemagne. As he advanced, he played tricks with his sword, which he brandished in the air, toss- ing it up, and again catching it with his hand, to mark, doubtless, his calm courage and self-posses- sion. In this manner, he rushed on the Saxon ranks, killed two men, and v/as himself slain by a third. The battle then joined with incredible fury. The Saxons, or English, were chiefly drawn up in one solid mass, impenetrable by cavalry. No effort of Duke William's brilliant chivalry, though led on by himself in person, had the least effect upon this unbroken phalanx. At length a military stratagem accomplished what mere force failed in. A body of a thousand Norman horse charged the English with apparent fury, but retreat- ing in well-dissembled panic, induced a considerable part of their enemies to quit their ranks in pursuit. Those who thus broke their array were cut off by the Norman main body, as, aware of the stratagem, they endeavoured to regain their ranks. But the encounter continued obstinate. In this dreadful battle, which was to decide the fate of England, the Normans derived great advantage from their skill in the long-bow. At length Duke William directed his archers, instead of shooting their arrows horizontally against the faces of the English, to discharge their volleys into the air, so that they might come down upon the heads of the Saxon phalanx with accumulated weight and effect. This species of annoyance did much 136 nor:ian conquests. mischief among the more distant ranks, on whom they descended Hke hail. One shaft, more fortu- nate than the rest, decided the obstinate battle, by striking Harold in the face, and piercing through his eye into the brain. The death of Harold terminated a conflict, one of the most obstinate, as it was the most important, in the annals of England. The immediate success of William's expedition was insured by the death of the English monarch ; for, by submission or force, the Conqueror annexed to his dominions the whole kingdom of England ; and though vexed by repeat- ed rebeUions among his new subjects, and even among the Normans themselves, disappointed with the share of spoil assigned them, he held, neverthe- less, with a firm grasp, the advantages which he had gained by his wisdom and courage. It is impossible to return to the history of France, from which this is a digression, without pausing to consider the effect of the Norman conquest, not only in its more immediate, but after consequences. The immediate consequence was, that the conquer- ed Saxons became, speaking generally, the serfs, or bondsmen, of the victorious Normans, and that the conqueror distributed his new acquisitions of territory among the valiant partners of his enter- prise. In many cases, some colour of right was given to this partition, as where a Saxon maiden, who had succeeded a father or brother slain at Has- tings, or elsewhere, in some large inheritance, was bestowed in marriage by the conqueror, on one of his fortunate and favored companions in arms. More frequently, the estates of Saxons of high birth and great property, were forfeited for alleged insur- rection against their now masters. FOREST LAWS. 137 Upon the whole, the system of feudal law was introduced into England by the conquest, and the Norman knights and nobles received grants of the richest manors and baronies of the crown, to be held of the king by military service. These they again granted in smaller portions, to be enjoyed by men chiefly of their own country, who should depend on them, as they upon the monarch. Such part of the land as the proprietors thought proper to retain for their own use, was cultivated for their advantage by the Saxon bondsmen, the haughty Norman disdain- ing to employ himself in any occupation save that of battle, tournament, or hunting. On the last subject, they introduced into England the severe and unjust laws of Normandy and France, which, under the highest and most disproportioned penalties, reserved the pleasure of pursuing the chase to the great vassals alone. William the Con- queror himself led the way in his extravagant pas- sion for such amusements ; and the ruthlessness with which he sacrificed to his love of silvan sport the comfort and happiness of his new people, is almost inconceivable. In the county of Hampshire alone, an immense woodland tract of sixty-three thousand acres, still termed the New Forest, was reduced to a mere waste, all towns and dwellings of man, as well as the churches intended for the wor- ship of God, being utterly destroyed, and the district reserved exclusively for the abode of wild animals, and the exercise of hunting. Other laws peculiarly vexatious to the lower orders of English, were introduced, instead of the mild government exercised by the native Saxon monarchs. The harassed natives were easily driven into rebellion, which answered so far the purpose 12* 139 ENGLISH LANGUAGE. of the Conqueror, as it gave pretence for new con- fiscations, by which he enriched his followers. At length threatened insurrections among the English were so general, and so much suspected, that the memorable lawof Cin/ezw or Couvyefeu, v/as enacted, by which all the lower classes were compelled to extinguish their fires or lights at the sound of a bell, which rung towards bed time. Numerous Norman garrisons, scattered over the country, at once secured to the victors undisturbed possession of the land, and enforced the subjection of the harassed inhabitants. In a word the whole kingdom of England was divided between the Normans, who were the lords and gentry, and the Saxons, who, with a few excep- tions, became the cultivators of the soil. These two races did not even enjoy the ordinary means of communicating together, for the Normans spoke French, as well as the king and courtiers ; the courts of law used the same language, and the common people alone used or understood the Saxon, which they employed in their own affairs. This separation of language lasted till about a hundred years after the Conquest, when the EngHsh language began to be used by all the inhabitants of the kingdom. The gentlemen were, in general, acquainted with French also, but every Englishman spoke the mixed language, which had been gradually formed between the Norman-French and the Anglo- Saxon. This is the language which has finally superseded the use of all others in England, the language of Newton and Bacon, the language of Milton and Shakspeare, in which wisdom and genius have achieved so much to instruct and delight man- kind. NORMAN CONaUEST. 139 The Norman Conquest had another beneficial consequence, though its effects operated slowly. We have already said, that the conquerors, when compared with the vanquished, were a race of a civi- lized and refined character, who affected the highest tone of chivalry, mingled as it was with much that was gallant, certainly, and that aspired to be lauda- ble. It is probable, that immediately after the battle of Hastings, this distinction in manners only ope- rated to the disadvantage of the humbled Saxons, whose rusticity afforded their conquerors an addi- tional reason for oppressing them, as beings of a lower grade, and beneath their regard. But in time the conquerors and the conquered began to mingle together and assimilate themselves to each other ; and there can be no doubt that the refinement of the chivalrous Normans extended its influence, in part at least, over the blunter and ruder Saxons, and introduced among them the spirit of unblemished honour and uncontaminated faith, which was taught by the doctrines of chivalry, if not always regularly practised. On the other hand, the blunt and resolute Anglo-Saxons preserved that sense of their rights, and jealousy of their independence, which has been so long the characteristic of the EngUsh people. It was, perhaps, less for the future advantage of Britain, that in becoming part of the dominions of the Duke of Normandy, the country was necessarily involved in the vortex of continental politics and continental quarrels, with which her insular situation left her naturally unconnected. It is not indeed unlikely that England, whenever she came to a feel- ing of her own strength, might have been induced to take an interest in the affairs of her neighbours ; 140 WARS ON THE CONTINENT. but it is not improbable that her eyes would have been first turned to make conquests within her own shores, in which case Scotland, in all human proba- bility, must have been completely and permanently subdued, and the crown of all Britain, as well per- haps as that of Ireland, established on the brow of the English monarchs, ere they engaged in more distant, more doubtful, and less politic hostihties with France. But it is in vain to speculate on what might have been. It is sufficiently evident, that the affairs of France must continue to interest the King of Eng- land, while he occupied the fair duchy of Normandy, with several feudal rights over Bretagne, which were granted to Rollo along with the dukedom itself, as part of the dowery of the French princess Gisele. And if the domestic security of England was dis- turbed, and its internal security shaken, by her being engaged in wars with which she had no real concern, it was some compensation that several brilliant pages were added to her chronicles, recording victories, which, though fruitless, and gained by great sacri- fices, contain noble proofs of EngUsh valour and magnanimity. 141 CHAPTER IX. Philip I. of France was not a little piqued and mortified to find, that by this happy attempt against England, his vassal the Duke of Normandy had started up king of a realm as ample and fair as his own, and which, though so recently acquired, and disquieted by insurrections, was, upon the whole, ruled by the Conqueror with more absolute sway than France itself by the descendant of Capet. Philip was determined to shake this new empire. He not only entered into a war with the King of England, but intrigued with his eldest son Robert, whom he encouraged to rebel against his father, William the Conqueror. The pretext assigned for the French hostilities, and the unnatural conduct of the son, was, that when William midertook his Eng- lish conquest, he engaged, in case of his being suc- cessful, that he would resign to his son his Norman dominions. It is probable, that, if such a promise was made, it was given only to allay the fears of the French court that William, by succeeding in his expedition, would become too powerful a vassal ; but the compact was agreed to without any serious intention of keeping it. At any rate, it had become impossible for the duke to yield up Normandy without incurring the risk of losing England also, since it was only in his power to defeat the insurrections of the English by the aid of the soldiery which he drew from his native dominions. 142 DEATH OF WILLIAM TH£ CONtiUEROR. Under the pretence, nevertheless, that WilHam the Conquerer had failed in this agreement to sur- render Normandy, his son Robert, a rash young man, and of fiery passions, though in his person brave and generous, actually rebelled against his father, and held out against him the small fortified place of Gerberoi, a station very convenient for the annoyance of Normandy, and where Philip placed his young ally for that very purpose. William of England, incensed at the rebellious conduct of his son, hastened to lay siege to the place of his re- treat. The garrison sallied? headed by Prince Robert in person. This leader, one of the bravest men of his time, singled out for his antagonist a knight who appeared in front of the besiegers, in armour, and having his face covered by the vizor of his helmet. The onset of the young and fiery prince bore down his antagonist, horse and man ; and Robert, placing his lance to the throat of the dismounted cavalier, would have taken his life, had he not recognised, by the accents in which the answer was returned, that he was in the act of slaying his own father. Shock- ed at this discovery, he flung himself from his horse, and, assisting his father to arise, held the stirrup to him till he mounted it in his stead. But notwithstanding an incident so touching at once and terrible, the reconciliation between the father and son was not perfected. Robert still ex- pected that his father would resign to him some part of the Norman territories, in fulfilment of the pro- mise said to have been made previous to his under- taking the invasion of England ; but he continued to expect in vain. The Conqueror answered the request in homely but intelligible phrase, that he PROFLIGACY OF PHILIP I. 143 was not willing to throw off his clothes before he went to bed, or part with his dominions before his death. An open war which ensued with France cost William his life. He caught an inflammatory com- plaint, by directing in person the conflagration of the town of Mantes, and the destruction of io87.* the country around. He did all in his power to punish his son Robert for his undutiful conduct, by bequeathing the crown of England to his second son William, called Rufus, or the Red. But although incensed against his eldest son, William the Con- querer left him the duchy of Normandy, chiefly, it is supposed, because he doubted whether the inha- bitants would submit to any other prince than Ro- bert, whom they loved for his liberality, good nature, and romantic courage. While these changes took place in the family and dominions of his formidable vassal and rival, Philip I. of France was engaged in petty wars, by means of which, while affecting to mediate between his dissatisfied peers, he contrived to weaken both the contending parties, and to strengthen the crown at their expense. The morals of this prince were not much more strict than his political conscience. He at length gave a shameful and public instance of profligacy, by seizing upon the wife of Falk, Count of Anjou, called Rechign^, or the Morose. To eiyoy her society, Philip parted with his own wife, who died of ill treatment, and during the latter years of his life, lived publicly with the beautiful Countess Bertrade, for such was her name. The court of Rome interfered in vain, and neither the admonitions of Pope or Council, though pro- mulgated under threat of excommunication, which 144 PH'LIP'S PREJUDICE. was at length actually pronounced, could deter the King of France from prosecutmg this amour. By such conduct, the authority of Philip became as much degraded as his personal character. He was neglected and despised even by his immediate vas- sals ; and the confusion which ensued was so great as to throw all France into disorder. At length, the king saw fit in some degree to appease these disturbances, by associating, in the ofiice and authority of Monarch of France, Louis, the remaining son whom he had by his lawful queen, by whose activity and judicious exertions, tranquil- lity was in some measure restored to the distracted kingdom. This active prince might be said to do all that his father had neglected. He kept always around him a body of determined men, with whom he marched with rapidity against the vassals of the crown, who were perpetually in insurrection, and thus gradually acquired general respect and popu- larity. Ber trade, in the meanwhile, was the only person to whom the young prince's conduct was unaccepta- ble. She exerted her unbounded influence over her royal lover to the prejudice of his son, on whose ex- ertions, rather than his own, the safe government of the kingdom depended. When Louis, conscious of his father's prejudice against him, withdrew for a while to visit the court of England, Philip was in- duced to write a letter to the king of that country, instigating him to murder or imprison the young prince. The advice was rejected with disdain by the King of England, who dismissed his guest with safety and honour. The dangers of Louis were increased on his re- turn to France, for poison was administered to him ATTEMPT TO POISON LOUIS. 145 by his father's concubine, which had so much effect on his constitution, that though he recovered his health in other respects, his complexion remain- ed ever afterwards a deadly pale. Louis, upon receiving this new injury, was well nigh provoked to break entirely with his father ; and it is probable that the cause of the son would have been adopted by the kingdom in general, had not Philip become aware of his danger. Overcome by his authority, or terrified for the consequences of Louis' resentment, Bertrade made the most humble submission to that Prince, suc- ceeded in a reconciliation, and entertained, or affect- ed, during her future life, the utmost deference, and even affection for Louis, to the extent of confiding to him the safety and support of two children whom she had borne to his father. King Philip. The troubles of France were in some degree allayed by the agreement between the father and son ; and the latter, after this period, took chiefly on himself the active administration of the government, while the father continued to indulge in the pleasures of luxury and retirement with Bertrade, on whom he doted. Latterly, indeed, he seems to have recon- ciled the church to his connection with her, since she receives, in the French annals, the title of queen, and her children are, at the same time, spoken of as legitimate. . The acquiescence of the Pope in this promotion of the divorced Countess of Anjou into a legitimate Queen of France, was but imperfectly expressed j aiid was purchased, moreover, by such humble sub- mission to the papal see, as degraded the king in the eyes of his own subjects. Philip died at ^-^ the age of sixty, leaving his son Louis, with VOL. I. 13 146 ORIGIN OF THE CRUSADES. diminished resources, to struggle with all the evils which his father's weak government, and the sacri- fice of his royal authority to his selfish love of plea- sure, had brought upon his country. In this age of wonderful events, not only did such revolutions as those produced by the success of Guiscard and his brothers, as before mentioned, and the conquest of England by William of Normandy, astonish the world, but the attention of all men was attracted by the Crusades, a species of war bearing, as was pretended, a religious character, and calling upon the Christian princes, as by a command from Heaven, to give up all private feuds and quai-rels among themselves, and move in a body to overwhelm the Asiatics. The origin of these extraordinary wars arose, as great events often do, from the efforts of a single individual, which happened in a remarka- ble degree to concur with the peculiar opinions and manners of the age. I have told you that the devotional journeys called pilgrimages, to the tombs of the religious persons mentioned in Scripture, or the places where they had wrought their miracles, were accounted in those times meritorious displays of piety, the performance of which, by the tenets of the Catholic Church, was held the surest and most acceptable mode of averting the wrath of Heaven for past transgressions, or ex- hibiting gratitude for mercies received. , Men who were in difficulties or in dangers, often made a vow, that in the event of their being extri- cated, they would make a journey to some sanctified shrine in Italy or in Palestine, and there testify thfeir sense of the protection of Heaven, by alms, prayers, and gifts to the church. The Holy Sepulchre itself, of which the site was handed down by tradition, was PILGRIMAGES TO THE HOLY LAND. 147 naturally a principal object of these religious voy- ages, as best entitled to the respect and adoration of mankind. While Palestine, or the Holy Land, remained a part of the Grecian empire, the approach of the European pilgrims to the holy places which they desired to visit, was naturally facilitated by every means in the power of the Christian governors of the provinces where they lay, and of the priests to whose keeping the places of sanctity were commit- ted. Their churches were enriched by the gifts which failed not to express the devotion of the pil- grims, and the vanity of the priests was flattered by the resort of so many persons of consequence from the most distant parts of Christendom, to worship at their peculiar shrines. Even when, in the course of the tenth century, the Holy Land fell under the power of the Saracens, that people, infidels as they were, felt their own interest in permitting, under payment of a certairi capitation tax, the concourse of European pilgrims to Jerusalem, and other places which they account- ed sacred. Stimulated by love of wealth, the Ma- hometan possessors of Palestine made the access tolerably easy to the devout men who desired to travel thither, so long as the pilgrims were not un- willing to pay the tolls with which it was guarded. In their intercourse with Christian princes of eminence, the Califs, or successors of Mahomet, derived a certain consequence from being masters of Jerusalem ; and Haroun Alraschid, one of the most important of those princes, found no more ac- ceptable compliment to conciliate Charlemagne, with whom he maintained a friendly intercourse, than to send to the Frank Emperor the keys of the 148 ORIGIN OF THE CRUSADES. Holy Sepulchre. But when the power of the Sara- cens was in a great measure divided or destroyed, and the Turks, also followers of Mahomet, but a far more rude and fanatical race, became masters of Jerusalem, the treatment of the Christians, whether natives of Palestine, or pilgrims who came to wor- ship there, was in every respect different. The Saracens, a civihzed and refined people compared with the Turks, had governed the country under fixed rules of tribute, and preferred the mode- rate, but secure profit, derived from the taxes imposed on the pilgrims, to that which might be at- tained by a system of robbery, plunder, and ill usage, by which the devotees were likely to be at length compelled to desist from their religious duties. But the Turks, a fiercer, more bigoted, and more short- sighted race, preferred the pleasure of insulting and maltreating Christians whom they contemned and hated, and not only harassed them by the most ex- orbitant exactions, which, when paid, did not secure freedom to the oppressed Frank to discharge his religious duty, but often added personal ill usage to the demand of extravagant tribute. In short, with or without the authority of their superiors, every paltry Turkish officer robbed, im- prisoned, and slew the Christians at his pleasure ; and an act of pilgrimage, in itself perilous and ex- pensive, was rendered frequently an introduction to martyrdom. The clergy of the Christians were in- sulted, stripped, and flung into dungeons ; nor was any circumstance omitted by the savage masters of the Holy Sepulchre, which could show the pilgrims a< how great hazard they must in future expect per mission to pay their homage there. These evils had been sufficiently felt by all who ORIGIN OF THE CRUSADES. 149 had visited the East, but at length they made so strong an impression on the spirit of one single than, that, like fire alighting among materials highly- combustible, the flame spread throughout all Eu- rope. The person who effected so strong a sensa- tion by so slight means, was Peter, called the Her- mit. He was, we are informed, of a slight and indifferent figure, which sometimes exposed him to be neglected ; but he was a powerful orator. He had himself been a pilgrim in Palestine, and pos- sessed the impressive requisite that he could bear testimony as an eye-witness to the atrocities of the Turks, and the sufferings of the Christians. He repaired from court to court, from castle to castle, from city to city, setting forth at each the shame done to Christendom, in leaving the holiest places connected with her religion in possession of a heathen and barbarous foe. He appealed to the religion of one sovereign, to the fears of another, to the spirit of chivalry professed by them all. Urban II., then Pope, saw the importance of uniting the European nations, soldiers by habit and inclination, in a task so honourable to religion, and so likely to give importance to the Roman See. At the council of Clermont, ambassadors from the Grecian emperor were introduced to the assem- bly, who, with humble deference, stated to the pre- lates and the lay chivalry of Europe the dangers to their Christian sovereign, arising from the increas- ing strength of the Moslem empire, by which he was surrounded, and, forgetting the wordy and assuming language which they were accustomed to use, sup- plicated, with humiUating earnestness, the advantage of some assistance from Europe. The pontiff" himself set forth the advantage, or 13* 160 COUNCIL or CLERMONT. rather necessity, of laying all meaner or more wordly tasks aside, until the holy sepulchre should be freed from the heathen usurpers, who were its tyrants. To all, however criminal, who should lend aid to this holy warfare. Urban promised a full remission of their sins here, and an indubitable portion of the joys of heaven hereafter. He then appealed to the temporal princes, with the enthusiastic quotation of such texts of Scripture as were most likely to in- flame their natural valour. " Gird on your swords," he said, " ye men of valour ; it is our part to pray, it is yours to fight. It is ours, with Moses, to hold up our hands unremittingly to God, it is yours to stretch out the sword against the children of Amalek. — So be it." The assembly answered, as to a summons blown by an archangel, — " It is the will of God— it is the will of God !" Thousands devoted themselves to the service of God, as they imagined, and to the recovery of Palestine, with its shrines, from the hands of the Turks. Each devoted himself to the prosecution of this holy undertaking, by cutting the form of a cross upon the shoulder of his cloak, being of a dif- ferent colour from that of the garment itself, which was the especial form by which these soldiers of Heaven announced their being enlisted in the Holy War. The undertaking was thence called a crusade, and those who joined its ranks were termed cru- saders. The eagerness with which all men assum- ed this holy symbol was such, that some of the princes cut their robes to pieces, to furnish crosses for the multitudes around. The extraordinary proceedings at the council of Clermont were circulated with such amazing celerity, as made those be believed who affii j.ned that the re- CRUSADERS LED BY PETER. 151 port of this general movement was heard and known among distant nations, even on the very evening of the day of council. But without listening to what is incredible, it is certain the news of the crusade was every where spread through the Christian world with unexampled speed, and every where received with the utmost interest and applause. The number who assumed the Cross, or, in other words, pledged themselves to the Holy War, amounted probably to half a -milhon of individuals at least. A very great proportion of this multitude were ignorant men, unaccustomed to warfare, and unacquainted with the slightest precautions either in the field of battle, or on the far more complicated subjects of marches and halts which were to be agreed on, and provisions, which were to be got in readiness. We may form some idea of the low rank from which these men were gathered, when we see, that although the strength of every army at the time consisted in cavalry, this miscellaneous rout, though composed of many thousand infantry, contained only eight horsemen. It is no wonder, says an historian, that a bird having wings so short, with a train of such dispro- portioned length, should not take a distant flight. The enthusiasm of these ignorant and rash plebeians, who formed a mob rather than a regular army, and observed no rule of warfare, was so great, that they accounted the slighest precaution not only unneces- sary, but even an actual insult to Heaven, as in- ferring a doubt that Providence would provide and protect the soldiers who had voluntarily enlisted themselves in this holy cause. This tumultuary rabble, accordingly, did not wait for the great princes and leaders who had engaged 152 MARCH OF THE CRUSADERS. in the same expedition, but resolved to set out on the journey by themselves. To insure divine protec- tion, they placed Peter the Hermit himself at their head. But neither his guidance, nor the military skill of his lieutenant, a valiant but needy knight, called Walter the Pennyless, owing to his ordinary state of poverty, were adequate to the management of a numerous and disorderly host, who rushed, so wretchedly provided, on a march of many thousand miles. These leading squadrons were followed by im- mense bands, composed of similar materials, as giddy in their expectations, as wild in their senti- ments, and as irregular in their discipline, as the host of the Hermit. Their leaders were, a barba- rous and ignorant man called Gotteschalk, a Ger- man monk, and Emmicho, a tyrannical Rhine-Graf, or count, who had demesnes on the Lower Rhine. Their followers were chiefly collected in the same countries, which have been found in latter times pe- culiarly accessible to enthusiasm. Some of them formed the unhappy idea, that, in order to expect success over the heathen in Pales- tine, it might be a good omen to begin with the destruction of the descendants of the Jews, the an- cient inhabitants of the Holy Land. They murder- ed many of these unhappy people, who were the merchants and factors, by whom, in these wild times, the necessary commerce between distant countries was conducted. Their wealth invited the murders and spoilation which their unbelief render- ed, in the eyes of the crusaders, not only venial, but meritorious. When this tumultuous army had traversed Ger- many, divided as it were into separate billows of the DISASTERS OF THE HERMIT's ARMY. l63 same advancing ocean, and committing in their pro- gress unheard of disorders, they at length reached Hungary, then inhabited by the remains of the Huns and Bulgarians. These fierce people, though pro- fessing the Christian faith, finding that the military pilgrims spoiled their villages, and seized their pro- visions, took arms against them without hesitation, and availing themselves of the swamps and difficult' passes of their country, destroyed so many of the crusaders, that only about one-third of the original host of the Hermit Peter escaped into the Greek territories. Here the Emperor Alexius, though somewhat surprised, doubtless, at the miserable appearance of this vanguard of his Western auxiliaries, relieved their wants, and endeavoured to prevail on them to wait for reinforcements from Europe. But when they had once attained the eastern side of the Bos- phorus, to which the policy of Alexius had hastily transported them, the enthusiasm of this tumultuous host again induced them to rush on their own de- struction. They entered Asia Minor, and SoHman, the sul- tan of Antioch, decoyed these ignorant warriors into the plains of Nice, where they fell beneath the arrows of the light armed Turks, and by diseases of the climate. In these tumultuary proceedings, three hundred thousand champions of the Cross lost their lives, before the kings and nobles of Europe, who had tak^n the same vows with these over-hasty de- votees, had been able to accomplish their prelimi- nary preparations. We are to suppose, naturally, that men of high rank, versed at least in the art of war, and in some degree acquainted with politics as they then existed, 154 CRUSADE OF EUROPEAN MONARCHS. if foolish enough to be forced into such an underta- king, which indeed the universal enthusiasm ren- dered it difficult for them to avoid, would not yet neglect the usual precautions to ensure success, nor expect that provisions, the means of transportation, or other absolute necessaries for the success of their expedition, would be furnished by a succession of miracles. Accordingly, when the storm of destruction had commenced among those disorderly bands which marched under Peter the Hermit, Gotteschalk, Emmicho, and other incapable persons, there re- mained behind a well disciplined host, selected out of the four principal nations of Europe, whose lead- ers may be briefly mentioned. I. The French chivalry took the Cross with all the eagerness of their national character, and are supposed to have sent as many adventurers as all Europe besides. Philip, their king, immersed in pleasures, and unable to separate himself from his favourite Bertrade, evaded taking the engagement ; but his best soldiers followed the steps of Hugo, called the Great, brother to Philip, and of Godfrey of Boulogne, called Duke of Brabant, who for his wisdom and bravery was afterwards chosen chief of the crusade. This last distinguished leader was accompanied by his brothers Baldwin and Eustace. Stephen, Earl of Blois, father to that Stephen who was after- wards King of England, Raymond, Earl of Tou- louse, Robert, Earl of Flanders, Hugh, Earl of Saint Paul, and Baldwin de Burgh, princes of high rank, and warriors of great fame, engaged in this expedi- tion with bands of followers becoming their birth and reputation. CRUSADE OF EUROPEAN MONARCHS. 155 II. Italy sent some distinguished soldiers ; among others Bohemund, prince of Tarentum, with his nephew Tancred, both worthy descendants of the Norman stock of Guiscard, put to sea at the head of twelve thousand men. The flower of the soldiers of the northern provinces of Italy also took the Cross. III. England sent many barons, who arrayed themselves under Robert, called Curthose, or Short-hose, the eldest son of William the Conque- ror, whom he had succeeded as the Duke of Nor- mandy. He also led a great part of the gallant Norman chivalry, to win fame or meet death, in the eastern deserts. Soldiers from Scotland, Ireland, and Wales, are supposed to have joined the Enghsh expedition, but in small numbers. IV. Of Germany we have already spoken, in giving an account of the bands of common men whom she sent to the war. Her noblemen did not take arms in the same proportion, and as the crusa- ders marched through that country, it is said they incurred the scorn and ridicule of the more solid part of the nation, who termed them fools for going on so idle an expedition. We will presently see that the Germans themselves afterwards caught the infection. Such was the composition of the first crusade, a formidable armament, the numbers of which are represented as almost incalculable. Its leaders adopted separate roads, for the more easy collecting of forage and provisions, anc the respective divi- sions performed their march wii. different degrees of security or danger, corresponding to the sagacity or rashness of their generals. Hugo, brother to the King of France, was defeated and made prisoner on the road by the Bulgarians, and sent captive to Con- 156 RECEPTION BY THE GRZF.K EMPEROR. stantinopie. The other divisions of the crusading army firrived safe under the walls of that city. It was the Greek Emperors turn to be astonished at the numbers and extent of a host assembled from all nations, and pouring v.ith frantic eagerness to- wards the land of Palestine ; so that, as Anna Comnena happily expresses it, all Europe seemed loosened from its foundations, and in the act of pre- cipitating itself upon Asia. Alexius, then the Emperor of Greece, and already described as a sagacious prince had expected that the auxiliary forces would extend to no more than a moderate body of men-at-arms, his confidence in whose valour might make amends for the smallness of their numbers, and who for the same reason could not propose to themselves the part of masters instead of allies, or dictate laws to the sovereign whom they had come to assist. Instead of such a moderate reinforcement, the subtle and suspicious Emperor of the East now saw himself begirt by armed legions from every corner of Europe, speaking unknown languages, sheathed in complete armour, — iron men, in short, compared to his effeminate Grecians, owning no common bond or tie, save that of their insane oath, each knight amidst their numbers holding the most undaunted confidence in his own courage, and the utmost con- tempt for ail opposition which could be offered to his most unreasonable wishes. The reflections and apprehensions of Alexius were natural enough ; but a generous mind would have subdued them, and rather trusted to the honor of the principal crusaders, than have undermined their strength by indirect practices, and offended their pride by showing a jealousy of their good faith. OATH OF FEALTY EXACTED. 157 and at the same time a fear lor their numbers a.nd force. He at first altogether refused to let so great a body of armed men pass into his Asiatic dominions, even to attack his enemies the Turks. Nor did he at length grant the crusaders a free passage over the Bosphorous, which divides Europe from Asia, until they would consent to take an oath of fealty to him. Godfrey of Boulogne, and the other leaders of the crusade, consented at length to this unpleasant and jealous prel'minary, reconcihng themselves to a spe- cies of degradation, rather than multiply the difBcul- ties of their situation, or make an attack upon a Christian emperor the first warlike action of the crusade. It was, however, with infinite difHculty that the numerous and haughty chiefs were induced to take the oath of fealty. Robert of Flanders positively refused to undergo the ceremonial, and could by no means be brought to submit. Many of the chiefs of the crusaders were only induced to take the vow to the emperor by the large gifts which he dealt among them, thus purchasing an apparent submis- sion, to save appearances, and disguise the real de- bility of the empire. Nay, the manner in which the ceremonial was performed, showed the contempt which the crusa- ders entertained for the whole pageant. A French count, called Robert of Paris, appeared before the emperor to take the oath, with the others of his de- gree. He had no sooner performed the ceremony than he sate down on the same throne where the emperor reposed in state, exclaiming, — '' What churl is this who sits, when so many noble knights are standing in his presence ?" It may be believed that no officer of the emperor VOL. I. 14 158 ROBERT OF PARIS. dared interfere, but Baldwin, brother of Godfrey of Boulogne, took the count by the hand, and reproach- ing him tor his rudeness, obliged him to rise from the place he had taken. The emperor, preserving his composure, asked the name and quality of the war- rior who had taken so great a liberty. " I can but tell you this," answered the Frank, " that in my country there is an ancient church, to which those desirous of proving their valour repair, fully armed for battle, and, having gone through their devotions, remain there, to abide the attack of any adven- turous knight that may appear to encounter them. At that church, where three ways meet, have I my- self abode for a long space. But the man lives not in France who dared answer my challenge." The emperor confined his answer to the prudent observation, that if the count desired combat, he came to the place where he was sure to get enough of it, and proceeded to instruct the knight, who pro- bably cared but little for his advice, in the particular warfare of the Turks. This story is told by Anna Comnena, daughter of Alexius, who seems to have suffered severely v.hen she sav/ the august imperial dignity of her father so rudely infringed upon. After much time wasted, and many promises made and broken on the part of the emperor, re- specting supplies of provisions, wines, and other necessaries for the army, the first crusade, trans- ported by the Greek shipping to the shores of Asia, began seriously to enter upon their holy warfare. Nice, which was well garrisoned by the Turks, was taken after a siege, and surrendered to the emperor Alexius, to whom it v/as a valuable acquisition. Soliman, Sultan of the Turks, more offended than dismayed by the loss he had sustained, assembled a BATTLE OF DORYL^UM. 159 very numerous army, amounting to from 150,000 to 200,000 horsemen. These hung round the van- guard of the Christian host, and exhausted them by constant, but desultory attacks. The scorching sun greatly annoyed the northern people, whose com- plete coats-of-mail rendered the heat more intoler- able. The usual clang and barbarous sounds of the Turkish musical instruments disturbed the horses of the Christians ; and in the first general battle between the crusaders and the infidels, the former ran a great risk of defeat. The desperate exertions of the leaders, at length brought the infidels from desultory skirmishes to close action, in which armour of proof, with supe- rior size and strength of body, gave advantage to the Europeans. Bohemund, Count Hugo of France, and Robert of Normandy, did wonderful feats with their own hands. The latter slew three infidels of distinction, in the face of both armies. The Sultan Soliman fled from the bcttle, which was fought at Doryloeum, in Phrygia. The restoration of his ter- ritory, called Roum, io tha Emperor Alexius, as it formed a frontier country of importance, was the means of preserving the Greek empire for perlxaps a hundred years longer than it was otherwise likely to have subsisted. But Alexius did not make a politic use of his ad- vantages. Instead of assisting the Christians with good faith and sincerity, he took a more indirect course ; he tried to pursue his own interest by holding the balance betwixt the crusaders and their enemies the Turks, in the vain hope that he could make success turn to the one scale or the other, at his pleasure. The sieg-o of the celebrated city of Antioch, 160 CAPTURE OF a:;tiocii. accompanied with dearth of provisions, want of water, scorching heat, and contagious diseases, tried the patience of the mihtary pilgrims, and overcame that of many. But the crusaders were particularly scandalized at the defection of Peter the Hermit, who fled from the camp rather than share the severi- ties to which he had been the means of millions ex- posing themselves. The fugitive was brought back by force, the rather that the absence of this famous preacher and prophet was deemed an evil omen. Antioch was at length betrayed into the hands of the crusaders by a Christian within the city ; but, enraged at the hardships they had sustained, and thirsting for blood, the besiegers spared, in their rage, neither Christian nor Pagan. A very large host, chiefly of Persians, under an Emir called Kerboga, in vain advanced to re-take the place, and avenge the slaughtered Moslemah. Their blockade, indeed, reduced the late besiegers to the state of being themselves besieged. Disease followed famine, men and horses died in multitudes. A well-imagined and happily-timed discovery of a supposed relic of great sanctity, restored the enthu- siasm which had sunk under bad fortune and suffer- ings. The gates of Antioch were thrown open, the crusaders rushed out in full confidence of victory ; and, being seconded by a fancied apparition of Saint George, Saint Theodore, and Saint Maurice, they totally dispersed the army of the besieging general, which is described as almost innumerable. The strong and wealthy city of Antioch was assigned as the seat of a principality, to be adjudged to Bohe- mund, for Alexius declined to accept what he was conscious he had no force to preserve. The route to Palestine now lay open to the crusaders — that DEFEAT OF KERBOGA. 161 country for which they had abandoned all their other prospects in life. Besides the necessity of collecting reinforce- ments, and the difficulty of coming to a determined conclusion, in cases where so many opinions were to be consulted, the city of Jerusalem, the posses- sion of which was the principal object of the cru- sade, had of late changed masters, and returned from the possession of the Turks to that of the Saracens of Egypt, who were commanded by the Fatimite Califs. The Saracens, it must be remem- bered, had always afforded protection to the western pilgrims during the period when they held posses- sion of the Holy City. It was, therefore, with some reason that they endeavoured to persuade the cru- saders to put an end to the war, as being now with- out a motive. The Egyptian ambassadors stated to the assem- bled chiefs, that Jerusalem, which the Turks had made the scene of their oppressions, was now re- stored to its lawful possessors, the Saracens, who had always given, and would engage always to give hospitable reception, and free access to the objects of their devotion, to all peaceful pilgrims who should desire to approach them in moderate numbers, and without arms. The calif also offered great and splendid gifts to the chiefs .of the crusade, to induce them to make peace. The European leaders returned for answer, that their vows engaged them to rescue the Holy Land, and its capital, the city of Jerusalem, from infidels, of whatever denomination, whom they should find in possession of it ; that they were determined to re- cover the city accordingly, and would admit no treaty, whether with Turk or Saracen, or other Ma- 14* 162 SIEGE OF JERUSALEM. liometan whatsoever, which had not the absolute surrender of Jerusalen for its basis. At length the remains of this mighty crusade advanced on Palestine, and besieged the holy 1099" ^^^y ^^ Jerusalem, so long the object of their hopes, vows, and wishes. The place was naturally strong, and was defended by thick walls and bulwarks, as well as by rocks and eminences. The crusaders remaining fit tor service, out of a host which numbered its warriors by hundreds of thou- sands, did not amount to forty thousand men. Ala- din, lieutenant of the Egyptian calif, commanded nearly an equal number of defenders. The Christians had, therefore, a difficult task before them, especially as they were in want of water, tents, and military engines. They at first attempted to take the city by main force, and made a general assault on the walls within five days after they sat dov,ai before them ; but being unprepared for such service, they were beaten off v>'ith loss and dishonour. The siege was, however, pressed with vigour ; the chiefs endured their losses with firm- ness, and their experience discovered supplies for their wants. Two wooden turrets, constructed upon wheels, were formed by some Genoese workinen, to be advanced to the wall, for the purpose of command- ing the defences. The first, under command of Raymond Count of Toulouse, was set on fire, and consumed by the besieged. The second of these engines, under the immediate superintendence of Godfrey of Boulogne, vv-as, with better fortune, rolled up to the wails, where, as it overlooked the parapet, the arrows from the archers within it cleared the rampart of the defenders. A drawbridge thea KINGDOM Oi' JERUSALEM. 163 f — ^— _-_^__^_________________ dropped between the tower and the wall — the attack- ing party poured over it, and the besiegers obtained possession of the city. An indiscriminate massacre commenced, in which many thousand Mahometans were slain, although resistance was entirely at an end. When this pitiless slaughter (which lasted three days) was over, the victors, with a devotion strafigely con- tre^sted with their late cruelty, joined in a solemn pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulchre, where loud hymns of praise, and devout tears of penitence, were enthu- siastically poured forth as an acceptable offering to Heaven, by the very men whose hands were red with the blood spilt in an unprovoked m.assacre. The country of Palestine followed the fate of Jerusalem, and the Christian leaders resolved to consummate their victory by erecting a Latin king- dom there, whose swords should for ever defend the Holy Land, which the valour of the crusaders had now gained from, the iniidels. The crown of Pales- tine was refused by Robert of Normandy and Robert of Flanders, who might both have made pretensions to the sovereignty; the more ambitious Bohemund had already settled himself in Antioch, and Baldwin had, in like manner, established him- self at Edessa. A hero who, if only the equal of these princes in valour, and their inferior in power, far excelled them in moral qualifications, and in a true sense of reli- gion, was next offered the crown, by the unanimous consent of all who had been engaged in the expedi- tion. This was Godfrey of Boulogne, the foremost in obtaining possession of the city, of which he was now declared king. He would, however, only ac- cept the title of Defender and Baron of the. Holy 164 KINGDOM OF JERUSALEM. Sepulchre, and, from the same spirit of devout modesty, he assumed a crown of thorns, instead of gold, as the appropriate symbol of his authority. In about a fortnight the prince was called upon to defend his newly conquered metropolis against the Calif of Egypt, who was advancing in person to revenge its capture. They met in the valley of As- calon, where the Egyptians (inferior to the Turks, whom the Christians had hitherto encountered, in the knowledge and practice of war) received a total de- feat. Godfrey having thus established and enlarged his new kingdom, proceeded by the general assent of the most experienced persons who were present, to adjust a system of laws, called the Assize of Jerusa- lem, in which the constitution of the Latin kingdom, as it was called, was adapted to the purest feudal principles. In this manner was established, and thus was reg- ulated, the kingdom of Jerusalem, which endured for about a century after its establishment in the first crusade, till its destruction by Saladin in 1187. Dur- ing the short period of its turbulent existence, this state, composed of so many proud and independent barons, who often refused obedience to the king oi' their own choice, underwent so many civil convul- sions, as rendered their state peculiarly unfit to defend itself against the Mahometans, vv'ho were per- petually bent upon recovering a territory which they considered as their own property. Various attempts were, however, made to support the Christians in their defence. One was by the erection of two great societies, or communities of knights, who took upon them a vow of celibacy, of poverty, and of obedience to their spiritual superiors, but were, in other respects» sol- KNIGHTS TEMPLARS. 165 diers sworn to defend the Temple of Jerusalem against the Pagans. This order of military monks did great service in the protection of the Holy Land. But when these Templars, as they were called, became wealthy and powerful, it appears their manners became corrupted, and their morals dissolute ; they were also accused of meditating enterprises promising advantage to their own order, but threatening danger to lawful Christian monarchs, and to Christianity in general ; so that, under allegations partly proved, and partly alleged, the order, or association of Templars, was suppressed, about the year 1312, two hundred years after it had been erected. The other association of the same kind was called the Knights of Hospitallers of St. John of Jerusalem, whose first vow was the providing hospitality for pil- grims, though, like the Templars, they chiefly devoted themselyes to military exploits against the infidels. They did not rise to the eminence of the Templars, nor share in the odium attached to them : accordingly you will see that the Knights of St. John, under the title of the Knights of Malta, continued their sworn war against the Mahometans till a lato period. But besides the support of these two warlike fra- ternities formed for the preservation of the Holy Land, the same motives which had made the powers of Europe first engage in the original crusade, led to their forming similar expeditions from time to time, to the number of five, by which great armies passed into Asia, with the purpose to delay the fall of Pales- tine, or to recover it, when lost, to Christendom. These must be mentioned, more or less distinctly, in the course of our story. In the mean time, we may conclude our history of 166 IxNTRIGUES or VvILI.lAM RUFUS. the First Crusade, by mentioning the death of its hero, A. D. Godfrey of Boulogne, v.hose virtues and talents 1100. had succeeded in giving a temporary appear- ance of strength and consistency to the dominions conquered by his valour. This event took place within a year after the capture of the city. CHAPTER X. While the princes and barons of the first crusade were establishing in Palestine the little Latin king- dom of Jerusalem, various alterations took place in Europe, by which the rights of the absentees were materially affected. No one suffered more than Robert Duke of Normandy. To furnish himself forth for the crusade, this eldest son of William the Conqueror had imprudently pa\vned the duchy of Normandy, being the only part of his father's do- minions which had descended to him, to his brother WiUiam, called the Red, King of England, for a large sum of money. But while Robert was employed in cleaving Ma- hometan champions asunder, and exhibiting feats of the most romantic valour, William was privately engaged in securing and rendering permanent the temporary interest which the mortgage gave him in the fief of the duchy, and it soon became evident, that even if Robert should be able and desirous to redeem the territory, it was not likely that his more powerful brother would renounce the right he had acquired over it. But the death of William Rufus CHARACTER OF HENRY BEAUCLERK. 167 brought into play a third son of the Conqueror. This was Heniy, the youngest, whom his brothers, both Robert and WilHam, had treated with consider- able severity after their father's death, and refused him every appanage becoming his rank. Civil war ensued among the brothers, and on one memorable occasion, Henry was besieged by his two brethren, in the forti-ess of Mount Saint Michael, and reduced to the greatest extremity for want of water. His distress being communicated to Robert, who was always generous, he instantly sent him a supply. William, who was of a harder and more inflexible disposition, upbraided Robert with his imprudent generosity. " What else could I do 1" answered the generous Norman. " He is our brother. Had he died for lack of water, how were we to supply his loss ?" Upon the surrender of the fortress, however, Henry was reduced to the condition of a private individual, although his bravery was equal to that of either of his brothers ; his sagacity much superior, and his learning, which was uncommon in those days, so considerable, that he obtained the name of Beauclerk, or Admirable Scholar. William Rufus was killed accidentally with an arrow, while hunting in the New Forest, which had been so unscrupulously formed, or enlarged, by his father the Conqueror. Henry, being engaged in the same sport in a different part of the forest, and learning this accident as soon as it happened, rode in post-haste to London, and availed himself of Robert's absence to procure his own election to the crown of England, which was affirmed by Parlia- ment. Robert, whose elder right of inheritance was thus 168 rOPULAR:TV Ol" HENRY. a second time set aside, was at this time in Apulia, where his marriage with a wealthy heiress had sup- pUed him with the means of redeeming his Dukedom of Normandy. He even preferred a title to the crown of England, which was favoured by the Norman barons, the companions of the Conqueror. Henry's chief supporters were the English, who had been cruelly oppressed by the first William, and with less form and reason tyrannized over by Wil- liam the Red. Henry, on the contrary, attached the nation to his service and allegiance, by correct- ing the abuses of his father's and of his brother's administration, and by granting charters, settling the separate interests of the vassals and superiors in the fief, and thus placing both on a legal and equitable footing. This mitigation of feudal rights was peculiarly agreeable to the English, whose sufferings had been most intolerable, and accordingly secured to Henry the crown of that kingdom. The extension of freedom was at the same time acceptable to the Normans ; and Henry began to gain partisans even In his brother's dukedom. But the sudden return of Robert from Apulia, recalled to their allegiance the wavering faith of his vassals, and put the pru- dence of the great Norman barons to a hard alter- native ; for in the very probable event of war be- tween the brothers, as most of the followers of the Conqueror held land in both England and Nor- mandy, their English or their Norman fiefs must necessarily be exposed to confiscation, according as they should side with Robert or with Henry. It was soOn found, also, that Robert was rash and wasteful, while his brother was the wisest prince of his time. IMPRISONMENT OF ROBERT. 169 A short peace, or truce, did not prevent the brothers from engaging in a war, which was decided by the battle of Tenchebraie, in Normandy, in which Duke Robert was, in spite of the bravery he dis- played, defeated and made prisoner. He was thrown into perpetual imprisonment, but allowed in his cap- tivity all the pleasures of the table, as well as the amusement he could receive from minstrels and jugglers. He was pitied, but not regretted, by the people of his duchy, who thought w^ith the old chro- nicle, that " he was a prince of the most undaunted courage, and had done many famous things at the sieges of Antioch and Jerusalem ; but his simplicity rendered him unfit for governing, and induced him to listen to Hght and imprudent counsellors." The kingdom of England and the dukedom of Normandy being now united in the person of Henry, as they had been formerly in that of William the Conqueror, the former prince became as great an object of jealousy to the King of France, his supe- rior, as his father had formerly been. It was indeed contrary to the nature of feudal dependence, in a correct sense, that the state of vassalage should exist between two princes of equal power, because in such a case, instead of the holder of the fief considering it a benefit, the possession of which formed an indissoluble bond of gratitude between the grantor and the possessor, he was, on the contrary, apt to esteem himself more degraded than enriched by the tenure, and his imagination was eternally at work how he might shake off* even his nominal dependence on one whom he probably held his own inferior. There were, therefore, on account of their mutual jealousy, constant bicker- ings, and several actual wars, between Henry of VOL. I. 15 170 WAR BETWEEN ENGLAND AND FRANCE. England, and Louis, who, in his latter years, ac- quired the surname of the Gross, from the largeness of his size. The most formidable war which the latter mo- narch incited against the King of England, had for its pretext the interest of the youth, >\ illiam Clito. This was the only son of the captive Robert Duke of Normandy, in whose behalf the King of France not only took arms himself, but instigated several of the great vassals of the crown to engage in the same cause. A very great number of the barons and knights of Normandy were privately enlisted in the design of placing the ducal coronet, which had been his father's, upon the head of a deserving son. Henry passed over to Normandy to defend his rights in that fair duchy against William Clito, his nephew, and carried with him a gallant army of Knglish, as well as Normans. Louis, the French monarch, at the head of the forces of the confede- rates of young William, also known by the name of Longsword, from the weapon which he wielded, advanced towards Rouen, and found him&elf unex- pectedly in front of the English. Young Longsword, well worthy of his descent, and of the formidable epithet by which he was designated, charged the van of the English army so fiercely as to throw them into disorder. But Henry advanced with his own household troops, and resto- red the engagement. In those days the generals themselves always fought amongst the foremost. — W^illiam Crispin, a gallant knight, attacked King Henry personally, dealing him two strokes with the sword, which, though repelled by the temper of the royal helmet, yet beat the metal flat on his head by main force, and caused the blood to gush from nose PEACE BETWEEN FRANCE AND ENGLAND. 171 and mouth. Henry either received timely succour from a gallant Norman baron in his ranks, or else struck Crispin down with his own hand. The life of the brave knight was with difficulty saved. The French were coinpletely defeated in this action. As the combatants were, many of them, friends and neighbours, no great loss was sustained in the flight ; and even during the shock of battle, only three knights were slain, though many were taken. The King of France lost his horse and his standard. Henry ransomed them from the captors, and keeping the banner as an honourable trophy, returned the steed to his royal owner, together with that of Wil- liam Chto, which had been taken by his son. These courtesies led the way to a peace highly ^J20* advantageous and honourable to the King of England. Louis of I^ ranee, at this peace, conceded a point of great consequence to the King of England. — Henry had refused to pay homage for Normandy, as had been the custom of the successors of RoUo, and of his own father and brother, William the Con- queror, and William the Red, and as was, indeed, the just right of Louis to demand. Such rendering of homage, said the King of England, was unworthy of a royal person. Louis plainly saw where this pointed, and that it was the object of Henry to shake himself entirely free of his feudal obedience ; and this conscious- ness had made him more anxious to support the claims of William Clito, or Longsword. But now, finding the events of war turned against him, Louis reluctantly consented that William, the only son of Henry, should be invested with the fief of Normaa dy, and do homage for that fief, although aware, 172 iNSUIlRLCTiO.N Hi NOR.MANDY. doubtless, that by this transaction Henry would retain in his own hands all the power and wealth of the duchy, while he would escape the oaths and obliga- tions of the vassal, by the interposition of his son in this character. But the sudden turns of fate disturb the wisest plans of human policy. The young prince Wilham of England perished at sea ; with him died the pro- ject of an intermediate vassal in the fief of Nor- mandy ; and so the plan of accommodation fell to the ground. The King of France, tempted by the desolate situation of Henry, who was now without a son, renewed his intrigues with William Clito. He caused this young prince to be married to a daughter of the Count of Anjou with whom he received in dowery the county of Maine. Estabhshed thus in a powerful seigniory near the frontiers of Normandy, to which his birth gave him so strong a title, William Clito found it easy to form once more a great confederacy against Henry, among the nobles of that dukedom. The King of England's usual prudence, mixed with a shade of that good fortune vrhich prudence alone can render availing, gave Henry again the ascendency over his A. D. enemies. He obtained a complete and easy 1124. victory over the insurgent nobility, of whom some were made captives, and treated with rigour. Luke de Barre, a Norman knight of some talent, was an instance of this severity. He had been formerly made prisoner by Henry, and generously dismissed. Notwithstanding this lenity, he not only rebelled a second time against the King of England, but had composed satirical ballads in ridicule of him, and recited or sung them in public. Such affronts excite more bitter resentment than real injuries. INSURRECTION SUPPRESSED. 173 The unlucky poet, having fallen a second time into the hands of the irritated monarch, was condemned to lose his eyes. But he struggled so hard with the executioners who came to carry the sentence into force, that he dashed out his brains against the walls of his dungeon, and thus perished. Two other in- s«rgent nobles sustained the same doom of having their eyes put out, and others were imprisoned. Triumphant in Normandy, Henry now sought revenge on the King of France, and used for this pur- pose the assistance of Henry V., Emperor of Ger- many, to whom Matilda, the monarch of England's only remaining child, had been for some years mar- ried. The Emperor retained resentment against Louis, because he had permitted a bull, or writing, by which the Pope excommunicated the Emperor, to be published in his archiepiscopal city of Rheims. He assembled an army from the German states, and threatened to enter France, and burn Rheims, where he had sustained such an affront. But the in- vasion of France by a German army, was not viewed with indifference by the great vassals of the former country. Even the barons who had private quarrels with their monarch Louis, or private confederacies with Henry of England, acted as obedient vassals of France upon this occasion, and Louis found no difficulty in assembling during this emergency an army of two hundred thousand men. To give them additional ardour in this great national conflict, we hear, for the first time, in this war, of the Oriflamme, or Great Standard of France, being displayed. This was a flag of crimson, attached to a gilded lance, from which it drew its name, which implies a golden flame. The Emperor Henry, unprepared to encounter such an army, retired before the Ori» 15* 174 MATILDA CROn'NED. flamme, and the immense body of men assembled around it. Louis would then willingly have employed so gal- lant a host in driving the King of England out of Normandy, and settling William Clito in that pro- vince. But the great vassals of France, whose re- tainers formed the greater part of the army, refused to serve in a quarrel which they rather accounted personal to the king, than essential to the kingdom ; and were alarmed, moreover, lest the w^eight which success might give the crown in such an enterprise, might cause it to become too powerftd for the liberty of the vassals, of which they were strictly tenacious. The Emperor Henry V. died soon after this war, and Henry of England recalled to his ^{^^' own court the widowed Empress Matilda, his daughter, and formed the bold plan of appointing her the heir of his dominions, as the sole successor of his blood. This was an attempt of a novel and hardy kind, for the genius of the times was averse to female succession. It was with them a maxim, that, as it was only the male heir who could do battle or give counsel, so it was only he who could render service for the fief either in war, or in the courts of the superior where the vassals assembled. This feudal rule seemed to exclude the Empress Matilda from succeeding her father in the dukedom of Normandy, and in England the settlement of the crown on a woman was yet unheard of. Henry, however, by the high interest which he possessed among the English clergy and barons, induced the parliament of that country, after long dehberation, to agree that his daughter should succeed to the crown on his death. In Normandy, Matilda's succession to the duko- FORTUNES OF WILLIAM CLITO. 175 dom was rendered yet more precarious than in England, by the opposing claims of William 'C lite, to whose father, Duke Robert, the fief had lawfully belonged. Indeed, the fate of this high-spirited and high-born prince was chequered with strange alter- nations of fortune, which seemed frequently to promise to elevate him to the utmost height of his wishes, but as often disappointed his expectations. Thus, at one time, Henry's influence with the Pope, procured from the head of the church an un- expected decree of separation between William Clito and his wife Sybilla, in whose right he held the earldom of Maine, and once more reduced him to poverty and dependence. But on the other hand, Louis the Gross, partly with a view to traverse the measures of his antagonist King Henry, partly out of a generous compassion for a prince of exalted birth and distinguished merit, whom Fortune had defrauded of his birthright, promoted this friendless youth to a marriage as advantageous as that which the Pope had cancelled. The second wife of William Clito was a sister of the Queen of France, whose dowry was the province called the Vexin, with three adjacent towns. Shortly afterwards the young prince succeed- J^jg"' ed to the rich and important earldom of Flanders, on the murder of Charles, called the Good, who was killed while hearing mass, and even in the act of prostration, by some of his own rebellious subjects. The King of France hurried to Bruges, where the deed had been committed, and having taken the murderers after a long siege, caused them to be pre- cipitated from the ramparts. He then conferred the earldom of Flanders upon William Clito, whom he 176 FORTUNES OF WJLLIAM CLITO. had so long relieved and protected, and whom he now raised to a more hopeful state, with respect to dominion and revenue, than he had ever yet attain- ed. The new Earl of Flanders seems to have had a good right by blood to be the head of this impor- tant pro vince, being a great-grandson of Bald win YII. Henry, alarmed by seeing his nephew thus in possession of the wealthy and powerful earldom of Flanders, began to bethink himself by what means he might best strengthen the title of his daughter to Normandy, which, in case of his own decease, must needs experience risk and opposition from the power of William Chto. For this purpose, he resolved to accomplish a marriage betwixt Matilda and Geoffrey, the heir of Fulk, Earl of Anjou. This house of Anjou had obtained the family title of Plantagenet, because the above-mentioned Fulk, while fighting in the crusades at the head of an hundred knights^ whom he maintained in that holy warfare, had, in sign of humility, worn in his helmet a sprig of broom, (in Latin, humilis genista^) which circumstance somewhat inconsistently gave a name to one of the haughtiest families that ever wore a crown, and became the successors to that of England. Fulk, the reigning Earl of Anjou, received, at the time of his son's marriage with Matilda, an invitation to succeed Baldwin II. in the precarious dignity of King of Jerusalem. His sense of reli- gion, and love of fame, would not allow him to pre- fer the wealth and safety of his coronet as Earl of Anjou, to the dangers and difhculties of the crown of thorns. He surrendered to his son Geoffrey the possession of his ample dominions of Anjou, Tou- >aine, and Maine ; and having seen him united with rORTUNES OF WILLIAM CLITO. 177 the Empress Matilda, departed for the Holy Land. Henry I., fortitied by so strong an alliance, con- ceived himself now able to find his nephew William Clito occupation in his new earldom, so as to pre- vent his resuming his pretensions to Normandy. He therefore stirred up a German prince, Theodoric, Landgrave of Alsace, to prefer some claim to the county of Flanders, and to support it with arms. William Clito defended himself with equal skill and courage. A plot being formed to murder him, it was betrayed by a young v.'oman with whom he had an intrigue. The girl was engaged in washing her Jover's head, when by sighs and tears which escaped from her involuntarily, he conceived an alarm of his danger. Having extorted from the young woman the cause of her distress, he immediately provided for her safety by sending her to the cha,rge of the Duke of Aquitaine, his brother-at-arms. With the same alacrity "he armed himself, without even waiting to comb his hair, and attacked the conspirators so alertly as to force them to take shelter in the castle of Alost, where he besieged them. The Land- grave, his competitor, advancing to raise the siege, when the garrison was reduced to extremity, en- gaged in an action v/ith Longsword's forces, in which he was at first successful. But William Chto, in person, charged at the head of a body of reserved troops, and defeated his German opponent. With the same ahicrity the spirited prince returned to the gates of Alost, where a party of the besieged were in the act of sallying to the assistance of the Landgrave. They were instantly charged, and driven back. But in this slight rencontre, as the gallant young count endeavoured to parry with his 173 DEATH OF "WILLIAM CLITO. hand the thrust of a pike made by a private soldier, he was wounded in the fleshy part between the fore- finger and thumb. The appearance of the hurt was trifling, but his arm swelled, and the wound turned to a gangrene, of which he died in the space of five days. He was a prince resembling his father, Robert Curt-hose, in bravery and warlike fame, resembling him also in the continued evil fortune which pursued him ; but unlike his father in that respect, we can- not find that his misfortunes had any source in his own rashness, carelessness, or misconduct. It is said, that the aged and blind Duke Robert, still a miserable prisoner in England, started from his bed in a dream, in which a soldier appeared to him, who, wounding his arm with a pike, exclaimed that his son was slain. William Clito was much regretted by the King of France, whose faithful adherent he had been ever since he began to distinguish himself in the world, this firm union, as well as Clito's pre- tensions to Normandy, having afforded the readiest means of embarrassing Louis' formidable rival, King Henry. Amidst ceaseless though petty wars, and constant though fluctuating negotiations, Louis VI. became aged, and his corpulence, which constantly increased, and procured him the surname of the Gross, affected his alertness both of body and mind. He endea- voured, according to the custom of the house of Capet, to supply his own deficiencies, by asso- ciating with him on the throne his eldest son j jgg! Louis, a youth of great hopes. But his father did not long enjoy his assistance in the affairs of government, grown too weighty for his own ma- nagement. COROriATION OF LOUIS LE JEUNE. 179 Riding in the streets of Paris, not many months after his coronation, the strange accident of a black pig running among his horse's feet, cost li^^' the young king a severe fall, the consequence of which he did not survive many days. The clergy pretended, as usual, to see in the singular death of this prince a judgment of God upon his father for refusing some requests of the prelates ; and in par- ticular, for declining to grant the royal pardon, and to restore the efiects to one of their number who had been guilty of treason. Deprived of his eldest son, the King raised to the throne instead his second son, called Louis le Jeune, in order to distinguish him from his father. This prince was crowned at Rheims by Pope Innocent himself, who had at that time retired into France, to seek refuge from the resentment of the emperor, with whom he had many quarrels. After a short time, the old king, finding his health continue to decline, surrendered his power altogether to his son. As he delivered his signet to him for this purpose, he used these just and excellent words : " Take this symbol of my sovereign power ; but never for- get it is only a public trust, for the exercise of which you will hereafter be called to the most strict account before the King of kings." After this virtual resignation, he never again assumed the ornaments or pomp of royality. Yet he lived to witness an event in his family, of the deepest interest. This was the marriage of his son Louis with Eleanor, daughter of William X. Duke of Guienne and Aquitaine. This nobleman having died while engaged in a pilgrimage to the shrine of St. James ©f Compostella, his daughter succeeded to his exten- sive territories. On her marriage with Louis VII., ISO BURNING or THE C. T ir.DTlAL. she was crowned Queen of France. Shortly after- wards, L:>uis the Gros:3 died, his constitution a. d. yielding, it is said, to the extreme heat of the ^137. season. The reign of Louis the Young, as he was called, being eighteen years old at his father's death, com- menced, as was generally the case in the French monarchy, with violent commotions among the nobi- lity and great vassals of the crown. Having been imwillingly subjected to the authority of a prince like Louis VL, who, notwithstanding his corpulent habit of body, was perpetually in action, and at the head of his troops, these dignitaries now thought the minority of a young prince a convenient time to recover a part of their exorbitant power. Thibault, Earl of Champagne, one of the most artful intriguers and turbulent agitators of the period, engaged him- self in forming conspiracies among the nobility, for abridging the privileges, and diminishing the author- ity, of the crown. Enraged at the sinister intrigues of this factious nobleman, whose power was increased by his bro- ther, Stephen of Mortagne, having usurped the throne of England, from Matilda, daughter of Henry L, the king ravaged his country of Champagne with imprudent and unrelenting severity. The town of Vitry vras taken by assault : and the cathedral, con- taining thirteen hundred persons, who had fled thither as to an inviolable sanctuary, was delivered to the flames, with all who were within it. Louis was of a fiery, yet of a religious disposition. The cruel deed vv'as scarce done but it v.'as repented of; and, besides the massacre and conflagration of Vitry, Louis conceived that he had other sins to be penitent for. The conviction that he had commit- REMORSE OF LOUIS. 181 ted a great and most inhuman crime, was mingled with the reflection that he had offended the Pope, by refusing to receive, as Archbishop of Bourges, a priest called Pierre de la Chatre, chosen to that office by the chapter of the see, without the royal license. The consciousness of these two offences, one of a deep dye, and one founded in the supersti- tious prejudice of the age, distracted the mind of the young prince. He laid the state of his conscience before Ber- nard, Abbot of Clairvaux, (afterwards canonized as Saint Bernard,) a divine of strict morals, venerated for his good sense, learning, and probity, and inca- pable of substituting evil counsel for good, as far as his own comprehension of good and evil reached, but from the excess of his zeal, and his devotion to the service of the church, sufficiently apt to be mis- led by prejudices and passions.. This churchman, avaihng himself of the remorse which agitated the king's heart, both on account of his cruel action at Vitry, and his disobedience to the Papal See, took the opportunity to press upon the afflicted mind of Louis, that the best and only effectual atonement for his misdeeds, would be a crusade to the Holy Land, undertaken with a force strong enough to restore the Latin kingdom of Jerusalem, now press- ed on every side by the numerous nations of infidels amongst whom it held its precarious existence. Upon the earnest exhortations of St. Bernard, who pledged his word for the fortunate issue of the expe- dition, Louis le Jeune was induced to assume the Cross, and determine on an expedition to the relief of the Holy Land, with the whole strength of his kingdom. At a great parliament, or assembly of the representatives of the French nation, which was, VOL. I. 16 182 CRUSADE TO THE MOLY LAND. on account of the number who attended, held in the open air, Louis took from the hands of Bernard, a cross, which had been consecrated at Rome for his particular use. The Counts of Toulouse, of Flan- ders, of Nevres, of Ponthieu, and many others of the great vassals, followed the example of their sovereign. The gentry and nobility took arms in emulation of each other ; and those who assumed the cross, sent a distaff and scissors to such as chose the wiser part of remaining at home, as if to upbraid them with cowardice and effeminacy. The same spirit spread to the court of Conrade III., Emperor of Germany, where the martial spirit of the people favouring the zeal with which the clergy preached the crusade, that prince assembled an army of at least fifty thousand men-at-arms, without taking account of infantry and light cavalry. Among these was* a band of women^ armed like Amazons, riding in the fashion of men, and armed in hke manner. The female who led this band acquired, from her gilded spurs and rich buskins, the title of the golden-footed. It may be well imagined, that a band so composed might show the unbounded zeal of the nations that furnished the crusaders, but it could not add to the force, and still less improve the discipline, of the army. It was, indeed, the curse of these expeditions, though undertaken on a religious principle, to com- prehend among the adventurers they sent forth, not only a multitude who expected by such service to merit pardon for past offences, but many more of debauched and infamous habits, who looked for little besides the pleasure of practising, unpunished, the grossest vices, amidst the profligacy of an ill- regulated camp. CRUSADE TO THE HOLY LAND. 183 In the French host, the part of the golden-footed lady was performed by no less a personage than Eleanor herself, to whom Louis le Jeune had been married a short while before his father's death. She had an ample inheritance in her own right, as the heiress of her father, the Duke of Aquitaine, which, adding to the arrogance of a character naturally in- tractable, induced her to use her own pleasure in taking a personal share in this adventure, though her presence and behaviour seem to have acquired little credit either to her husband or herself. The Queen of France was attended by a large band of the youth of both sexes. Some gallant damsels were mounted on horseback, in masculine fashion, like the German Amazons, while a chosen band of the gayest and most noble young men of France assumed the title of Queen Eletmor's Guard. It may be easily supposed that pilgrims, of such an age and such manners, were more likely to promote the gaiety than the discipline of this pious undertaking. The expedition, however, excited the highest hopes throughout Christendom, which were doomed to meet with a woful reverse. Louis left his dominions during his absence to the care of his relative and favourite, the Earl of Ver- mandois, and that of Suger, Abbot of St. Dennis. The latter, though a churchman, entertained more clear political views than those of St. Bernard, of Clairvaux. Unlike the practice of his order, Suger distinguished himself by using every rational per- suasion to deter the king from the ruinous under- taking of the crusade. And although he failed to divert him from his purpose, Louis remained satis- lied that no man could be more fit to be employed 184 DISASTERS or THi: s::cond crusade. in the administration of France, durin^g^ the absence of the sovereign, than Abbot Suger. The crusade now began to set forward. The Germans were the first who advanced into Greece, and they were received by the reigning emperor, Manuel Comnenus, with as much apparent good will, and still more secret and active hostility, than his predecessor Alexius had nourished against the first crusade. This treacherous prince assigned the strangers false guides, by whom they were induced to take up their quarters on the banks of the un- wholesome Melas, a river which consists only of mud during summer, and forms a sea in the course of winter. Here the natural progress of disease, caused by swamps and 'inhealthy exhalations, was augmented by bad provisions, such as meal adulterated with lime, supplied to them by their treacherous allies. False and worthless coinage was also circulated amongst them, and no secret artifice spared, by which the formidable numbers of these simple de- votees might be diminished and wasted. This usage of the Emperor of Greece was the more atrocious, that he was connected with Conrade, whose forces he thus undermined and destroyed, in the character of a relative, as w-ell as ally, as they had married two sisters. The facts are, however, proved against the treach- erous Grecian by the evidence of Nicetas, a histo- rian of his own language and country. The object seems to have been, that, by aiding in the destruc tion of these large armies of crusaders, the Greeks hoped and expected to hold the balance betwixt them and the Saracens, and thus attain the superiority over both the powers whom they feared. It is even TREACHERY OP THE GREEK EMPEROR. 185 certain that Manuel Comnenus entertained a secret, but a close alliance with the Saracens, and that he transmitted to them intelligence of the motions of the enemy. The host of France, under its young and valiant monarch, now arrived in Asia, and by precaution or good fortune escaped a great number of the snares and dangers which had been spread for the Ger- mans, by the treachery of the Greeks. In the mean- time, Conrade, v/ho had proceeded under the con- duct of-false or ignorant guides, though he found no formal opposition, yet lost what remained of his forces in detail, by skirmishing with the light Turk- ish cavalry, who were perfectly acquainted with the country, and accustomed to endure the heat of the climate under which the Germans sank by squadrons at a time. At length, with forces totally discouraged, and greatly diminished, the German Emperor took the resolution of falling back on his friend and ally, the King of France, whose army as yet retained an ap- pearance of order. The two monarchs embraced with tears of sorrow, and remained for some time unable to give vent to their feelings. It was pro- posed they should proceed in company towards Pa- lestine. But the German troops were so much reduced, that it no longer became the dignity of the emperor to remain at their head ; and he took the resolution of returning to Constantinople, where he was more kindly received by Manuel, in his mis- fortunes, than he had been when in his prosperity. The route of the French army who proceeded in their undertaking, was now opposed by a serious obstacle. A large army of Turks, on the opposite bank of the Mseander, lay determined to defend the 16* 186 DISASTERS OF THE passage of that river. It was neither fordable, nor was there bridge, shipping, or other mode of cross- ing. At the command of the king, the vanguard of the French plunged gallantly into the stream, and fortunately finding it shallower than had been report- ed, half-swimming, half-dragging each other forward, they attained the opposite bank, when the Turks, too much astonished for resistance, sustained a de- cisive and bloody defeat. Yet in the future progress of the French, wherever the advantage of ground was on their opponent's side, the light-armed archers of the Turkish army wasted the Christians in many a bold skirmish ; so that, notwithstanding their ori- ginal numbers, the crusaders suffered extremely ere they made any effectual progress in Asia Minor. Indeed, the battle on the Mseander was the begin- ning, and well nigh the end, of the success of the Christians. The Saracens and the Turks had now become accustomed to the warfare of the Latins in the Holy Land, understood their mode of fighting better than in the days of Godfrey of Boulogne, an3 shunned all encounters with those iron warriors of the west and north, while they fatigued their unweildy strength by ambuscades, alarms, skirmishes, and all the vexatious harassing of light-armed-troops. These important advantages, derived from experi- ence, were entirely on the side of the Mahometans, for the soldiers of the second crusade were as heavily armed and as unacquainted with the Eastern mode of skirmishing as their predecessors of the first. The infidels, on the other hand, took advantage of every mistake, and on one occasion had nearly destroyed Louis and his whole army. The French marching in two divisions, in order SECOND CRUSADE. 187 to cross a ridge of mountains near Laodicea,- Louis, who conducted the rear-guard in person, di- rected the officer who led the van, to halt on the summit of the chain of hills, and abide there till the second division came up. But Geoffrey de Rangon, who commanded this division of the army, was tempted, by the supposed absence of the enemy, and the fertility of the plain beneath, to march down, leaving the summit of the ridge undefended, and giving the Turks, who were on the alert, an oppor- tunity of occupying the passes in great force. Thus Louis, when he had reached with the rear- guard the summit of the mountain, where he ex- pected to rejoin the vanguard of his army, found himself involved in a numerous ambuscade of the infidels, who attacked him unexpectedly, with those dreadful yells with which it is their custom to begin battle. The Christians, taken by surprise, were thrown into disorder, especially as the broken and craggy ground was totally unfit for the action of heavy armed cavalry, which were the flower of their army. The unfortunate Louis displayed great per- sonal courage, and rallied his forces by his own example. His exertions were at first in vain ; for, though he forced his way to the very summit of the hill, he was soon lefl almost alone, surrounded by the enemy, many of his bravest knights being slain at his feet. In this emergency, finding himself at the foot of a rock, Louis climbed up a tree, which grew slant- ing out of the face of the precipice. The Turks discharged their arrows against him in vain ; his armour of proof kept him safe, while he defended himself with his sword from the more close attack of such as attempted to climb into his place of re- 188 DISASTERS OF THE SECOND CRUSADE. fuge, lopping off their hands and heads with httle difficulty. The night becoming darker, he was at length left alone. In the morning he was extricated from his perilous situation by the countermarch of a part of his vanguard. But he had lost in this unfortu- nate encounter more than twenty thousand men, in slain, wounded, and prisoners. The day following this disastrous action, Louis proceeded to Attalia, (the capital city of Pamphylia,) amidst constant skirmishes and great hardships. The natives, who were Christians, though tributary to the Turks, dared neither oppose nor assist the invaders. In order to rid themselves of the crusa- ders, they offered to convey them to Antioch by sea. At Attalia, therefore, the king and his nobles and knights went on shipboard and set sail for the prin- cipality of Antioch, which Bohemund had founded at the time of the first crusade, but which was now ruled by Raymond de Poitiers, a Latin prince, who received the king with demonstrations of the utmost respect and kindness. Louis, however, regarded his attentions and civility with distrust, conceiving it to be Raymond's secret object to obtain the assistance of the French troops in protecting and enlarging his own territory of Antioch, and for that purpose to interrupt their journey to Palestine. While the choicest part of the French army which accompanied Louis himself had reached Antioch, those who were left behind at Attalia, made repeated attempts to rejoin their monarch, both by land and sea. They were successful by neither mode of passage ; and so unfortunate was their last march, so humbled the pride and resolution of the soldiers of the Cross, that three or four thousand of their number not only surrendered to the infidels, but em-^ QUARRELS OF LOUIS AND ELEANOR. 189 braced the Mahometan faith, and fought against the caiise they had left their country to defend. The few remnants of this part of the army which reach- ed Antioch, came as stragglers, unfit for military service. Meantime, besides the grief and mortification attending these losses and misfortunes, the mind of Louis had subject of domestic anxiety, or at least he thought so. The conduct of his queen, who, as we have noticed, accompanied the crusade, became such as to give great displeasure to her husband. They had, as we have already mentioned, been kind- ly received in the city of Antioch, of which Ray- mond de Poitiers was the sovereign. This prince was a near relative to the queen, and one of the handsomest and most accomplished persons of his time. He did his utmost to make himself agree- able to his royal guests, and the French authors say, that, with the queen at least, he succeeded too well. Being her uncle, and a married man, it is equally possible that the jealousy of Louis le Jeune may have imagined grounds of suspicion which had no real existence. Nevertheless, the king lett Antioch, and retreated to his own army, bearing his queen along with him, under such circumstances of haste and concealment, as argued much doubt of the loyalty of his host. Other historians say, that Louis entertained well- grounded jealousies of a Turk, whom they call Saladin, a man of low rank, a minstrel, and a jug- gler. It is at least certain that the king was jealous ; and that the queen, presumptuous and arrogant, was little disposed, in hor pride as a great heiress, to submit herself to his humour. Great animosity arose between th«m, and Eleanor began to desire a 190 SIEGE OF DAMASCUS. separation, for which she founded a plausible reason upon their relationship to each other, being vvithin the prohibited degrees, a pretext which the Catholic Church on many occasions sanctioned as a lawful cause for divorce, when the real cause was some- thing very different. Louis, a scrupulous and bigot- ed prince, was in some degree moved by the con- scientious motives which Eleanor seems only to have affected. The bad effects of these dissentions were for some time suspended, by the condition in which the royal pair were placed. The King of France had still around him the flower of his nobles and army, who had come with him by sea from Attalia, while the wretched residue was left to perish under the walls of that city, or in the adjacent deserts. The assistance of Raymond had enabled Louis to re- mount his chivalry, and he was desirous, even at this late hour, to do something which should make me- morable his expedition to Palestine. Having at length penetrated to Jerusalem, the French monarch resolved, with the assistance of the Christians of Palestine, and the military orders of the Temple and St. John, to besiege the city of Damascus, an object very far inferior to the grand schemes which inspired his hopes at the outset ; yet still a matter of consequence, and one which, even in his reduced state, the power of Louis was still adequate to achieve. But, by misconduct or trea- son, the Christians were induced to abandon the at- tack, which they had judiciously commenced on the weaker side of the city, and to remove their army to another post, where it was opposed to walls of greater strength, and where it was much more diffi- cult to supply the besiegers v/ith provisions. In RETURN FROM THE HOLY LAND. 191 short, the strength of the crusaders was wasted and misapplied ; success became impossible, and the siege of Damascus was raised, with no profit and little honotlr. Repeated disasters and disappointments had now subdued the hopes of the most sanguine of the cru- saders ; and all prepared to abandon an enterprise, to which, though undertaken in the name and cause of religion. Providence seemed to give no en- couragement. The Emperor Conrade and the remnant of his Germans first withdrew from the scene on which they were the first to enter, and reached their own country without farther disaster. Next, the French nobles began to retire individually, or, as it were, steal back one by one from the ill-omened enter- prise. King Louis alone seemed yet to nourish the lingering hope, that he might cover his retreat with some action of credit, and it was not till he was alarmed with tidings of commotions in France, that he resolved to desert Palestine, where he had been unable to acquire even a single hamlet or a foot of land. Upon this pressing summons, Louis returned to his kingdom with the wretched remains of his army, having his domestic relations embittered by the most dishonourable suspicions, both sources of distress flowing out of the same frenzy which dicta- ted his celebrated crusade. Yet, such was the infatuation with which the mind of Louis clung to that extravagant undertaking, that, when passing through Rome on his return from the Holy Land, he was earnest with the Pope that he should authorize St. Bernard of Clairvaux to preach a new crusade, which he offered to join in person with a large army, and thus to renew the un- 192 INTRIGUES OF THE COMTE DE DREUX. happy expedition in which he had suffered such loss of men and of reputation. From this proposal, we are led to suppose, either that the conflagration and massacre of Vitry had made an indelible impression on the mind of Louis, or that he was naturally of a character so perversely bigoted, as to shut his eyes even against that sort of experience which is bought by the most severe suffering. CHAPTER XI. The excellent administration of Suger, the Abbot of St. Dennis, had maintained the affairs of Louis le Jeune in a reasonably good condition at home, not- withstanding the absence of the king, with the great portion of his forces, which he had so imprudently led to the distant wars of Palestine. But when the news arrived that the whole, or almost the whole, of that huge army had perished, without a single feat of any kind which could add honour to their nation, excepting the single action of the Mseander, the general voice of the nation accused the king of incapacity ; and it was suggested, amid the burst of universal discontent, that, like some of his prede- cessors, the reigning monarch should be dethroned, and committed to a cloister. The Comte de Dreux, brother of King Louis, who had returned from the Holy Land a short time before him, had "-reatly contributed to the increase of the national displeasure, by intrigues which had for their object his brother's crown ; and it vv^as the aUARREL OF LOUIS AND ELEANOR, 193 rumour of such practices which recalled Louis from Syria, after a protracted stay in that country. These dissensions between the royal brothers were with some difficulty composed, so soon as the return of Louis had rendered the Comte de Dreux's plans desperate. But there remained the rooted quarrel between the king and his wealthy and haughty wife Queen Eleanor, which now began to assume the appearance of an open rupture. Without supposing, with the French historians, that Louis had actual grounds for his jealousy, it is certain he was an object of personal dislike to his wife, who declared that his rigid morals and ascetic devotion were those of a monk, not of a cavalier, and expressed for him an aversion mingled with contempt, which, on his part, was calculated to excite a strong suspicion that she entertained a preference for another. Louis seems also to have shared in the scruples, which Eleanor only affected, respecting their too near relationship, and both the royal consorts began to consider the dissolution of their marriage as desirable on many accounts. The sagacious Abbot of St. Dennis foresaw, that in gratifying his own and Eleanor's personal dislike, by consenting to a separation, Louis must inevitably subject himself to the necessity of restoring the ample dominions of ilquitaine, which the princess had inherited from her father ; and the far-sighted minister might also reasonably fear, that, once at liberty, she might confer them, along with her hand, on some one whose possession of so fair a portion of the territory of France might prove dangerous to the sovereign, and that the king must, therefore, act very imprudently in giving way to the restitution by consenting to the divorce. For these reasons, the VOL. I. 17 194 DIVORCE OF LEWIS AND ELEANOR. Abbot Suger bent the whole of his pohtical genius to accommodate matters between Louis and the queen, and although he was unable to accomplish the desired reconciliation, he found means to prevail on them to live together on decent terms, until death deprived Louis of his services. Soon after this event, the royal pair openly de- clared themselves desirous of a separation. In the motives alleged on the king's side, nothing was said of the reports against Eleanor's character. But in secret Louis justified his conduct to those who cen- sured him for parting with his wife, along with the unavoidable necessity of restoring the duchy of Aquitaine, by alleging the irregularity of her life, and dishonour of being connected with her. A council of the French national church held at Bau- gence, having taken cognisance of the scruples of conscience entertained, or affected, by the royal pair, and having considered their nearness of bJood, declared their marriage unlawful, though it had already subsisted more than sixteen , years, and although two daughters, who had been the fruit of the union, were by the sentence rendered illegiti- mate. The decree of the Council of Baugence was con- firmed by the Pope ; and the marriage between Louis and Eleanor was accordingly formally an- nulled. Louis had now ample time to remark, and perhaps to regret, the consequence of his impru- dence. Eleanor was reinvested as heiress to her father in Guienne, Gascony, Poitou, and other extensive territories belonging to his dukedom of Aquitaine. Nevertheless, though having once more the power of bestowing an ample property with her hand, MARRIAGE OF ELEANOR. 195 Louis flattered himself that her behaviour had been so scandalous, that there was not a gentleman in the kingdom so poor in fortune and spirit as to take her to wife, though sure thereby to become Duke of Aquitaine. He was much deceived ; for his late consort had, even before her divorce was concluded, secured for herself a second match, and that with a prince rich in present possessions, yet more so in future ex- pectations ; and, what must have been peculiarly gratifying to Eleanor's vindictive temper, to a prince, the increasing whose strength was, in fact, the diminishing that of Louis, to whom the object of her second choice was, by birth, a natural opponent. In a word, the person on whom she fixed her elec- tion was Henry Plantagenet, eldest son of Matilda, sole surviving child of Henry I., King of England, and heir to his mother's pretensions to his grand- father's kingdom. You cannot have forgotten that Henry had de- clared Matilda, the widow of the Emperor Henry V. of Germany, the heiress of his kingdom, and strengthened her right, by choosing for her second husband Geoffrey Plantagenet, Count of Anjou. But the object of Henry L was for some time thwarted by the ambition of Stephen, Earl of Mortagne, who forcibly set aside the rights of Matilda and her son, and intruded himself into the throne, where, for a period of sixteen years, he sup- ported himself by his own bravery, and the swords of a great body of barons, to whom the confusion of a civil war was more profitable than the good order and strict government of a lawful monarch and a profound peace. 196 MARRIAGE OF ELEANOR In 1146, the fortune of war had passed so ^* ^* much to Stephen's side, that the Empress Matilda, with her son Henry, who, though a mere youth, began to show strong symptoms of the wis- dom and courage which afterwards distinguished him, were compelled to retreat to Normandy, which Geoffrey, the husband of Matilda, and father of Henry, then ruled as duke, in right of his wife. Upon the proposal of the Earl of Anjou, that his wife and he should cede their right in Normandy to their son, the King of France was prevailed upon to admit young Henry as vassal into the duchy of Nor- mandy, on consideration of his surrendering a frontier district of that province, called the Vexin, which Louis considered as a cession of such importance, that, by way of acknowledgment, he aided s. d. Henry with a body of troops for putting him H^O. into possession of the rest of the fief. Louis had hardly received Henry Plantagenet as a new vassal in the duchy of Normandy, when he had a quarrel with Geoffrey, Earl of Anjou, that prince's father ; and repenting what he had done in Henry's behalf, he invited to Normandy, Eustace, son of King Stephen, promising to assist him in possessing himself of that same duchy, although he had so lately granted the investiture to Henry. The prudent advice of Suger, who then still lived, brought about an accommodation of these perplex- ed affairs. A suspension of arms was agreed to ; young Eustace was sent back to England, highly incensed at the usage received from Louis ; and Henry's right to Normandy was once again fully recognised. Presently after this accommodation, Geof- a. d. frey, Earl of Anjou, died. To Henry he left il6l. AND HENRY PLANTAGENET. 197 his earldoms of Anjou, Touraine, and Maine, under the condition, that in case he should obtain full possession of his royal mother's inheritance of England, he must become bound to cede the French dominions of Anjou to his second brother, named Geoffrey after his father. Thus, at the period of the divorce of Louis, when Eleanor cast her eyes upon Henry Plantagenet to be her second husband, he was, in actual possession, Duke of Normandy, Count of Anjou, Maine, and Touraine, and therefore no unfit mate for the heiress of Aquitaine. But the circumstances attending a diminution of rank from that which she held in her first marriage, were mortifying, to say the least. We cannot therefore doubt, that the brilliant pros^ pect of the crown of England, to which Henry had so just a claim, supported by a strong party of friends in that kingdom, had no slight share in recommending her second choice to the ambitious Eleanor. In other respects, there was some inequality. The bridegroom was only twenty years of age ; the bride had attained the riper period of thirty, and upwards. But, in the case of so wealthy an heiress, Henry did not let his taste for youth interfere with his sense of interest. As to the scandals propagated concerning Eleanor at the French court, Henry treated, or affected to treat, them with an indifference and contempt, which perhaps they justly deserved. By her union with Henry, Eleanor con- ferred on him the two duchies of Guienne and ^[^ Gascony, with the earldom of Poitou, and their extensive dependencies. His subjects in these new dominions regarded the choice of their duchess with applause, for the character of Henry, both for 17* 198 INVASION OF NORMANDY. courage and prudence, stood as high as that of any prince then living ; while the misfortunes of Louis in the crusade had tarnished his character ; and his simplicity in parting with Eleanor, and thus throwing so rich a prize into the hands of a hereditary rival, was so generally felt, that it is said by some his- torians, that the epithet of h Jeune, or the Young, was conferred on him for his want of prudence on this occasion, and not merely to distinguish him from his father. The scales fell from the eyes of Louis when he perceived to what a height of power Henry Planta- genet had been raised by this unexpected match. He became, of new, impatient to weaken, or rather to ruin him. For that purpose, the French King engaged in a league with his brother the Earl of Dreux, with Eustace, son of King Stephen, with the Earl of Blois, and with Geoffrey Plantagenet, Henry's own brother, for the purpose of despoiling the young Duke of Normandy of his dominions, and dividing them among themselves. But this iniquitous league had no better success than it deserved. Henry at once protected his own country of Normandy against the confederates by whom he was invaded, and extinguished an insur- rection which his brother Geoffrey had excited in Anjou. The latter prince, whose defection was equally unreasonable and unnatural, was compelled to make the most humble submission. To the admiration of all, Henry's conduct, notwithstanding his youth, was equally marked with the political wisdom and sagacity which prepare for success, and with the firmness and audacity, which seldom fail to command it. He endeavoured, by every degree of decent CIVIL WAR IN ENGLAND. 199 respect and becoming moderation, to give Louis a fair pretence of withdrawing from a war which had ah'eady disgusted him with its want of success. But, ere the negotiation between them was entirely conckided, a crisis arrived, which demanded the attention of the younger prince elsewhere : Henry received intelligence from England, that Walling- ford Castle, the most important of those fortresses which were yet held by his family partisans in that kingdom, was now closely besieged by King Stephen, while the governor, Brian Fitzcompte, sent word to Henry, demanding either relief, or permission to surrender the castle. Leaving the greater part of his forces to defend his French dominions, in case of any renewed attempt from the confederates, Henry embarked for England with three thousand infantry, and a hundred and fifty chosen knights. His presence, though with so small a body of forces, revived the spirits of his confederates. Malmesbury, Warwick, and thirty castles of inferior strength, surrendered to the son of Matilda, and grandson of Henry. The civil war was revived throughout England with fury, when it was suddenly put a stop to by the death of Eustace, son of Stephen. The death of this young man, for whose interests, as his successor, his father Stephen had maintained the contest, removed a great impediment to peace, which was accordingly concluded on moderate terms. Stephen, now aged and childless, was allowed to retain the crown during his lifetime, on condition that he adopted Henry for his son, heir, and successor. This arrangement having settled the succession of England in favour of Henry, he returned to the 200 ACCESSION OF HENRY II. continent with the same speed with which he had come from thence, in order to prepare against the attempts of Louis, who, always malevolent to his divorced wife's second husband, was threatening to renew the war in France to embarrass his treaty with Stephen. For this purpose, too, the French king excited commotions in Aquitaine. These were soon appeased by Henry, on his arrival, and he contrived, by some acceptable services performed to the King of France, in his quality of Duke of Normandy, to render even the suspicious Louis once more satisfied with his conduct as a dutiful vassal. Henry was soon after established on the English throne, by the sudden death which removed from that situation his competitor, Stephen, whose whole reign had been a continued civil war, which had its source in usurpation, and was carried on with much fury and bloodshed, as well as incalculable detriment to both the kingdoms. Thus possessed of as much real power, and of more wealth than the King of France, Hen- ry H., with a sagacity which overcame all desire to display his superiority, proposed a match betwixt his eldest son. Prince Henry, and Margaret, daughter of Louis le Jeune, by his second wife, Constantia, Princess of Castillo, whom he had married, after the declaration of the Council of Baugence had annulled his union with Eleanor of Aquitaine. The prince and princess were mere children : but it was customary in those days to arrange contracts of marriage betwixt persons of their station many years before the age of the contracting parties per- mitted them to be carried into effect. Henry, affect- ing to consider himself as the honoured party in this union, lavished valuable gifts on all about the French PRUDENT POLICY OF HENRY II. 201 court, whose good opinion or favourable sentiments couid forward his negotiation; His liberahty ex- tended itself even to the doctors of the university of Paris, the students, and the principal citizens. In every case of ceremony or etiquette, it was the policy of Henry to pay Louis the most ceremonious attention, and to disguise, under the observances of ^ respectful vassal, that formidable authority which must otherwise have rendered him an object of sus- picion and jealousy to his lord paramount. He even gratified Louis' passion for a holy war, engaging to assist that monarch with all his forces, in a crusade to be directed not against the infidels of the east, but for the purpose of driving the Moors out of Spain. Henry, however, who only meant to flatter the king of France, extricated himself from the execution of his engagement, by persuading Pope Adrian, with whom he had secret influence, to express disappro- bation of the undertaking. But while punctiliously accurate in rendering all respectful homage to Louis as his sovereign, the English monarch was cautiously enlarging his own territories, and adding to his real power. He exerted authoritatively his rights as lord paramount over Bretagne, which, since the time of Rollo, had been a feudal dependence on Normandy, and he negoti- ated for a fresh surrender of the Vexin, that district which his mother Matilda had yielded up to Louis as the price of his own first investiture of the duke- dom. This strong frontier he stipulated should be the dowery of the Princess Margaret. And in other ■cases where actual power could be attained, or a desirable object of ambition oftered itself, Henry never allowed this ceremonious deference to the will 202 HENRY LAYS CLAIM TO TOULOUSE^ of his superior to interfere for an instant with its gratification. Thus in 1159, the King of England resolved to assert a pretended right to the city and earldom of Toulouse, as a fief and dependency of the dukedom of Aquitaine, which had been pledged to the present earl by Queen Eleanor's father, and which, in qual- ity of her husband, he now set up a right to redeem. This claim, weak in point of justice, he resolved to make good with the arms of Normandy, Guienne, and England. Raymond, Count of Toulouse, the crown vassal, thus threatened, applied to the King of France, whose sister he had married, for protec- tion against a prince, whose forces he was unable to resist ; and Louis, on offering his interposition, was startled to find that Henry, so deferential and tracta- ble in matters of small importance, was pertinacious in ail equal degree in objects of magnitude. Louis had nearly been convinced of the real character of his vassal in a manner highly unpleasing. Determining to support Count Raymond against Henry, the King of France threw himself into the city of Toulouse, with a handful of soldiers, trusting that veneration for his person would withhold his vassal from any attempt on the city where he raised his own standard. Henry's forces were in readiness for the siege, and most likely he might, by a sudden attack, have made himself master of Toulouse, and of the person of Louis, thus imprudently hazard- ed within it. The question was debated in Henry's council, when some statesmen insisted on the sanc- timonious respect which was due to the lord para- mount. They were answered by the unscrupulous Becket, then chancellor, and a favourite minister of Henry : " Advance banners," said he, " my noble RECONCILIATION OF LOUIS AND HENRY. 203 liege ; the King of France laid aside his title to your obedience as a vassal, the instant he levelled a spear agains you." Henry listened with a longing disposition to fol- low the uncompromising advice of the daring states- man. But he reflected that he was himself at the head of an army assembled only by his feudal power, and that it would be perilous to show in his own per- son any contempt for that fealty to the superior, upon which his own authority rested. There was also to be considered the risk of offending all the crown vassals of France, who were likely to witness with resentment the imprisonment of their common liege lord the king, by one of their own number. Upon the whole, with that exquisite prudence which regu- lated Henry's conduct, he turned reluctantly aside A. D. from the siege of Toulouse, alleging as a motive ^159- the respect he entertained for the person of the lord paramount, who was within the city. Louis was flattered by his moderation, and peace was shortly afterwards made, on condition of Henry retaining considerable conquests, made at the ex- pense of the Count of Toulouse, to whom he granted, at the request, as he carefully stated, of the King of France, a truce for the short space only of one sin- gle year. The two monarchs were so thoroughly reconciled, as to admit of their acting in concert concerning a matter of great importance to Christianity. You are to understand, that the Emperor of Germany had down to this period always claimed the right of nominating, or, at least of confirming, the appoint- ment of the Popes to the Bishopric of Rome. This high privilege they exercised, as it descended to them with the empire of Charlemagne. It was 204 DISPUTED ELECTION OF POPE. often disputed by the Popes, who were extremely desh'ous to deprive a laic prince of a privilege which they alleged was inconsistent with the liberties of the church, and contended that the election of the Pope lay in the choice of the College of Cardi- nals. By their obstinate opposition, supported by many wars, the popes had deprived the emperor of almost all vestige of this privilege. But a double and dis- puted election having occurred in 1160, the Emperor Frederick Barbarossa took upon ^jgQ* him so far the right of his ancestors, as to summon a council of the church to determine which of the two candidates, Alexander III. or Victor I V^ was lawfully elected to the Holy See. Frederick declared in favour of Victor, which induced the- Kings of France and England, jealous of so higb an exertion of authority on the part of Germany, ta- espouse the cause of his opponent. Their favour- ed candidate Alexander came in person to France, where he found Henry and Louis in arms to defend his cause, in case the emperor should attempt to» support Victor by force. The two kings received him with the respect due to the head of the church, that is, with tokens of the utmost deference. They walked in person each by a stirrup of the pontiff's saddle, as he rode towards a magnificent tent, in which he was accommodated. " It was a sight," says the Catholic historian Baronius, " for God, angels, and men — a triumph such as had never before been seen in this world." Alexander afterwards held a great council of the church at the city of Tours. But the emperor, and the kings of the north of Europe, remained deter* mined in their election of Victor, and the schistn THOMAS A BECKET. 205 that arose from the dispute divided Christendom into two factions, and deluged Italy with blood. Alexander was so far grateful to his adherents, that he lent his intercession to place on a surer footing than it had yet assumed, the peace between the two kings. Hitherto there had been little sincerity in the apparent good understanding between Henry and Louis, and we have mentioned many wars between them, interrupted by truces, which, though the patience and prudence of Henry sometimes soothed Louis' suspicions for a time, never, or seldom, failed to be succeeded by new subjects of disagree- ment. In all these disputes, Henry, more prudent, more wealthy, above all, more fortunate, had, either by war or negotiation, or both, enlarged his own territories at the expense of those of Louis. But in the latter part of this great king's life, the clouds of adversity seemed to gather round him, and for- tune, as is frequently the case, turned from him when his hairs became gray. A very serious part of Henry II. 's misfortunes arose from his disputes with his ancient mmister and favourite, Thomas a Becket. This wily churchman had been able to conceal his real character from Henry, by appearing in an assumed one while serving as his chancellor, very nearly after the manner in which the English mo- narch himself had occasionally persuaded Louis that he was a faithful and devoted vassal to the French crown. At this period, as we have partly seen, the See of Rome was making the widest and most fatal encroachments upon the authority of the temporal princes of Europe, and Henry was natu- rally desirous of making the best stand he yet could YOt, I. 18 206 ELEVATION OF BECKET. against the extravagant claims of the Church of Rome. It was of the utmost consequence in this species of contes^j^ that the see of Canterbury should be filled by a prelate favourable to the monarch, and wilhng to countenance his interests in any discus- sions he might have with the Pope. Henry thought, therefore, that when the Archbishopric of Canter- bury became vacant by the death of the incumbent Theobald, he could not secure his own interest bet- ter, than by raising his chancellor, Becket, to that situation. This minister had always seemed to possess the manners of a soldier, a statesman, and a politician, rather than of a churchman. Wq have already seen, that he entertained no scruples in advising the king to bold and arbitrary measures against his lord paramount, Louis ; and, judging from his conduct before Toulouse, Henry expected from him no opposition to his will in matters where a more zealous primate might, perhaps, have given him trouble, by interference in any differences which might arise with the Pope. But no sooner had the king, with considerable difficulty, obtained the election of his favourite to the archbishopric, by the monks of Canterbury and the suffragen bishops of that see, than he was pre- sently satisfied what an unhappy choice he had made of the head of the Anglican church. Becket, who had hitherto concealed, under a cloak of appa- rent loyalty and devotion to his sovereign, as much ambition as ever animated the breast of a proud man, now affected an extremity of zeal for the rights and privileges of the Church of Rome, as the mode by which he intended to rise to the digni- ty, perhaps, of the papal tiara itself, and distin- MURDER OF BECKET. 207 guished himself by the audacity which he displayed on all possible questions in which he could assert the immunities of the church against the preroga- tive of the king. The particulars of their various and obstinate quarrels must be looked for in the History of Eng- land, where it forms an interesting page, and not in that of France, which we are now engaged with. Suffice it to say in this place, that Thomas a Becket having carried to the uttermost his opposition to the king's authority, Henry, whose temper was impa- tient and hasty, was at last induced to express him- self thus inconsiderately : — " Have I no faithful ser- vant who will rid me of this upstart and arrogant priest?" Four knights of his royal household, men habituated to blood and slaughter, caught at the hint contained, as they apprehended, in these rash words. They rode to Canterbury, and after some exchange of threatening language, slew the arch- bishop at the foot of the high altar, where he was officiating. Although the king had no concern in this rash and desperate action, excepting the blame of having spoken inadvertently the rarsh words by which it was occasioned, he suffered the whole evil consequences which could have attached to the voluntary author and instigator of such an impiety. The cruelty of the actors was compared with the courage of the sufferer, who, whether sustained by his personal courage, or by the sincere belief that he was acting in the faithful discharge of his duty, had displayed the most undaunted composure throughout the whole bloody transaction. wSuperstition added to the ter- rors of the deed, and Becket was pronounced not merely an innocent churchman, slain in defence of 203 LOUIS SEEKS A CAUSE OF the privileges of his order, but a pious saint, who had been murdered in the cause of Heaven and Christianity. The creduHty or the craft of the monks, his con- temporaries, saw in their late suffering brother a glorified martyr, at whose tomb, and at the place where he was slain, the sick were cured, the blind received sight, and the lame walked. All these gross exaggerations were believed at the time, and the king was overwhelmed by the torrent of odium which he suffered on account of Becket's death, insomuch that he was fain to yield up the honoura- ble, manly, and able defence, which he had hitherto made against the papal usurpations, in order to obtain a reconciliation with the church on the most unfa- vourable conditions. By these articles, the king was obliged to pay a large sum of money, and engage in a crusade against the infidels, either in Palestine or Spain ; above all, to permit, what he had hitherto strongly resisted, an appeal to the Pope in all things ecclesiastical. He became bound to restore the friends of Becket to Jiis favour, and finally, to discharge a most humilia- ting and disgraceful penance, in evidence of his sorrow for the rash words which proved the cause of the murder. Louis, King of France, was not idle during an interval when his ancient enemy's usual good fortune seemed to desert him, and when the boasted saga- city of Henry appeared entangled with embarrass- ments, from which it could not extricate him. The French king was neither slow in seeking out a just cause of quarrel, nor in the choice of means by which to prosecute it. He at first pretended dis- pleasure against Henry for having caused his eldest QUARREL WITH HENRY. 209 son to be crowned in England as successor to that kingdom,while the wife of that young prince, Margaret Princess of France, was still in her native country. But Henry deprived Louis of that pretence for a rupture, by expressing his willingness to repeat the ceremony of coronation. The King of France then adopted a more subtle, but certainly most unjustifiable mode of assailing an adversary who had proved too powerful for him while he followed the ordinary rules of open hostility. Louis requested the presence of his daughter and his son-in-law, the younger Henry, for some time at the French court. The English princes of the Nor- man race were never remarkable for domestic affec- tion ; and, from the time of the Conqueror down- ward, it had been no unusual thing in that house to see the son in arms against the father. Louis, there- fore, found no great difficulty in insinuating into the mind of the younger Henry, that his father kept the throne too long, and did not indulge him, though crowned, with a sufficient share of independent power. When the young prince returned to England, he instilled the same spirit of unnatural ambition into his brothers, Richard, (afterwards the renowned Coeur de Lion,) and Geoffrey. John, the fourth and youngest brother, was not of age to take a share in the family quarrel. But Queen Eleanor, the mother of the princes, had been for some time dissatisfied with the share which the king allowed to her in his councils and affections ; and, as we have already alluded to her arrogant and vindictive disposition, you must not wonder if she took all the means in her power to inflame the bad passions of her three elder 18* 210 CONFEDERACY AGAINST HENRY 11. sons, and induce them to unite in a league with the King of France against their father. The pretext used by Louis le Jeune for thus set- ting up the title of the son against the father, was, that when Henry, called the young king, was crown- ed, Henry H. was, by the same ceremony, deprived of the sovereign power, which was thereby transfer- red to his son. Yet Louis knew, that the corona- tion of a son during his father's litetime was by no means to be understood as inferring the vacation of the throne on the part of the latter, but only an acknowledgment of the son's right in the succession to the authority which the father continued to hold during his life. The King of Scotland was engaged in the same confederacy, and several of the great barons of England were ripe for rebellion. This formidable league was entered into at a time when Henry was on the worst terms with the Pope, and odious to all the priest-ridden part of his subjects, on account of the death of Becket. It was even thought, so gen- eral was the disaffection, that Henry IL would have had difficulty in raising an army among his feuda- tories. But he had been a prudent economist, and now made the treasures he had amassed the means of saving his throne at this conjunction, without trusting to those vassals who might have betrayed his cause. He hired a large body of German mer- cenaries, men who now for many years had gained a living by their swords, and who were ready to em- brace the cause of any prince in Europe who re- quired their services, and was willing to pay for them. At the head of these forces, and seconded by his own admirable rapidity of action, which was so great, PENANCE OF HENRY. 211 that his antagonist, Louis, confessed that the Eng- lish prince seemed rather to fly, than to sail or to march, Henry took the field. He opposed himself every where to his enemies, defeated the rebels, and, offering battle to the great head of the confederacy, had the pleasure to see Louis le Jeune retreat before him, with much abatement of honour. Henry brought his mind also, in the midst of these difficul- ties, to submit to the most degrading part of the penance inflicted on account of Becket's death; not, we may well suppose, that so wise a prince could really have entertained compunction for the very slight share which he had in the death of a rebellious and turbulent priest, but because he was aware of the interest he would gain in the hearts of his people, by their supposing him fully reconciled with Heaven, for what they considered a great crime. When the king came within sight of the tower 1174' of the Cathedral of Canterbury, he dismount- ed from horseback, and proceeded to the shrine of Becket, barefooted, over a flinty road, which he stained with his blood. When he kneeled before the tomb of his old enemy, whose life had cost him bo much trouble, and whose death had been yet a deeper source of embarrassment, he submitted to be publicly scourged by the monks of the convent, and by other churchmen present, from each of whom he received three or four stripes on his bare shoulders. In consequence of these, and other austere pen- ances, Henry incurred a short fit of illness. But he appears to have conceived that he had entirely recon- ciled himself with Thomas a Becket, for, as that per- son became rather a fashionable saint in foreign countries, Henry, on more than one occasion, accom- 212 POPULARITY OF BECKET S SHRINE. panied to the shrine several persons of high rank, who came from the continent to worship there ; acting thus as a sort of master of ceremonies to his former chan- cellor, whom, indeed, he had the principal hand in raising to his state of beatitude. Notwithstanding all this apparent submission, Henry retained in pri- vate his own opinion on Becket's conduct. A bishop having rashly and hastily excommunicated one of his nobles, the king advised his prelates to avoid precipitance on such occasions. " There may be more bishops killed for their arrogance," said the king, significantly, " than the calendar of saints can find room for." To Louis le Jeune, who was soon tired of wars, if long protracted and unsuccessful, it appeared that the good fortune of Henry was returning in its usual high tide, and it was consistent with his own charac- ter, to ascribe it to the reconciliation of his enemy with Thomas a Becket. It is certain that, a very few days after his penance, Henry received tidings of an action near Durham, in which William, King of Scotland, became prisoner to his northern barons ; and, in the very same year, Louis had himself a nearer instance of Henry's reviving good fortune, when the English monarch reUeved Rouen, then closely besieged, and compelled the joint armies of France and Flanders to retire from before it. This chain of events had a practical effect upon the king of France. He sent ambassadors to treat for peace, to which Henry, satisfied with his success, and conscious at what risk he had won it, willingly assented. He settled liberal appanages upon the three young princes, Henry, Richard, and Geoffrey, and endeavoured to secure their affections in future, PROPOSAL or A CPwUSADE. 2 IS by even profuse allowances of domains and re- venues. The greatest satisfaction which Louis received from a peace, in which all the objects for which the war was undertaken were relinquished, was the hope that Henry might be induced to join him in a mu- tual crusade ; so fondly was his imagination, though now that of an aged man, bent upon the subject which had occupied his youth. Henry, on his part, was under the necessity of apparently consenting to this wild proposal ; for it was a part of the penance enjoined him for the death of Becket, that he should take the cross and pass to the Holy Land, when- ever commanded to do so by the Pope. The Pontiff, therefore, having joined the solici- tation of Louis, it was not in the king of England's choice to evade the summons. Regulations were accordingly adopted between the two monarchs, for arranging their mutual relations, in the manner most suitable to the success of their undertaking. There is little doubt, however, that Henry, though the au- thority of the Pope was at present too great to be openly disputed, was secretly determined to take every opportunity, or pretext, that might occur, to postpone, and finally to evade, carrying into actual effect this useless and perilous expedition. The French King, on the contrary, was perfectly serious, in his idea of renewing, conjoined with Henry, the rash and ruinous attempt of his youth, and was determined to provide for the government of his kingdom in his absence, by crowning his son Philip, a youth of the highest expectations, as his associate and successor in the French throne. A singular circumstance prevented the ceremony : The young prince, Philip, who was to be the principal 214 CORONATION OF PHILIP actor in it, was separated from his attendants, while on a hunting party, in the Forest of Compeigne, lost his way among the wild and solitary woods, and wandered there all night. The youth was exhaust- ed by fatigue, and severely affected by the agony of mind which he had undergone. The consequence' was a dangerous illness. The remedies of Louis le Jeune, for every emergency, were always tinged with superstition ; and in the hope of aiding his son's recovery, he vowed a pilgrimage to the popular shrine of Thomas a Becket, where he paid his devo- tions with valuable offerings, and, among others, a grant to the convent of a hundred tons of French A. D. wine annually, — an acceptable provision, no 1179. doubt, for the comfort of the monks. He instantly returned to France, and was escorted by King Henry, as far as Dover. On reaching home, he found his son recovered, the renown of which greatly added to the resort of pilgrims to the tomb of Thomas a Becket. The sickness was, however, only transferred from the son to the father, for Louis himself was struck with a palsy. The coronation of Philip took place soon afterwards, though his father could not be pre- sent, and it was remarkable that Philip, weak from his late illness, being oppressed with the weight of the crown, Henry the younger, of England, lent his assistance to support it upon the young king's head. With what internal feelings he might perform this feudal service, may be at least doubtful ; for, in case of the death of this, the only son of Louis le Jeune, the same Prince Henry, if his wife, Margaret, should be found capable of succession, was next heir to the crown he sustained, at his brother-in-law's corona- tion. ACCESSION OP PHILIP. 215 In the next year, Louis le Jeune died. He a. d. was a prince of many excellent personal quali- 1180. ties, brave, well-meaning, temperate, and honest ; but he was neither a general nor a politician, and his devotion was of so superstitious a character, that, while his conscience scrupled to transgress the most trival forms, he could, on the first important occasion, if policy seemed to render it advantageous, break his faith without scruple, in matters of the most weighty moral obligation. CHAPTER Xn, Philip, the son of Louis le Jeune, was a prince possessing so many kingly qualities, that, in French history, he is distinguished from other monarchs of the same name, by the imperial title of Augustus ; and not unjustly, since it was chiefly by his means that the royal house of France recovered that influ- ence in their empire which, during the life of Louis, had been in a great measure overshaded by the pre- dominance of the house of Anjou, whose power, carefully augmented by the wisdom of Henry IL, had placed that monarch in the situation rather of a rival than a vassal of the King of France. On Phi- hp's accession to the throne, he was not yet fifteen years of age ; and it is probable he felt that his ex- treme youth, joined to the feebleness of his father's character, was likely to render the authority of the crown contemptible, unless respect was to be ensu- 216 DISPERSION OF MERCENARIES. red to it by the firmness and gravity of the prince who wore it. Accordingly, the first public measure of Philip was one of a more severe character than could have been expected from so young a monarch. All jes- ters, jugglers, and buffoons, whose idle occupation it was to encourage dissipation and misuse of time, were banished from the court by a solemn edict, which the king caused to be rigorously enforced. By this his people learned that their young king proposed to assume the masculine gravity of a more advanced age, and remove from about his person all incentives to the light taste and unprofitable follies of youth. In another of his early measures, Philip consulted, in an eminent degree, the advantage of his subjects and realm. The constant wars of France, a coun- try which seldom remained at rest for a year together, without the assembling of forces upon some pre- tence or other, had given occasion to the association of numerous vagrant bands of men, whose profession was arms, and who, without any regard to the cause in which they served, or the monarch to whom they rendered obedience, were ready to engage their skill and valour in behalf of any prince who was willing to employ them. They were, generally, experienced and approved soldiers, and piqued themselves on maintaining strict fidelity during the terms of they* engagement, and serving with loyalty the prince to whom they were hired. Such mercenaries, were, therefore, a needful but perilous resource during this time of constant war, and even the politic and sagacious Henry 11. , when hard pressed by the leauge formed against him by Louis le Jeune, found his safety in recruiting his DISPERSION OP MERCENARIES. 217 exhausted army with great numbers of these mer- cenary bands. But although a necessary, at least a prompt and useful resource to princes in time of war, nothing could be more oppressive to the people in the season of peace, than the existence of nume- rous bands of various nations leading an idle and dis- solute life, at the expense of the oppressed pea- santry, and breaking every law of regulated society, without a possibility of bringing them to justice ex- cept by a pitched battle. Where their depredations were withstood, they naturally drew their bands closer together, laid the country under contribution, and obliged the cities, on peril of assault and pillage, to pay large sums for their maintenance. These troops of lawless depre- dators were distinguished by the names of Cotte- raux, Brabangons, Routiers, and Tavardins. Philip commanded his soldiers to assist the burghers of the good towns against these disorderly freebooters, and he himself engaged and defeated them in one great action, in which nine thousand were slain in the bat- tle and flight. By these exertions, this wasting plague of the country was in a great measure check- ed and reformed, although it continued to be an ex- isting grievance until a much later period of French history. With the same attention to the public advantage, Phihp compelled the citizens of the large towns to pave their streets, and to surround their cities with walls and fortifications, so as to ensure the power of repulsing the attacks of these roving brigands. The burghers disliked the expense of labour and treasure laid out upon this important object. But the king in person made a circuit around the cities of his kingdom, to enforce the execution of his VOL, I. 19 218 CABALS OF HENRY II. 's CHILDREN. wholesome edicts, and at the same time reduced to order such of the nobility, as, avaihng themselves of the late king's illness, had been guilty of usurpa- tion upon each other, or encroachment on the au- thority of the sovereign. The measures he pursued for the public good, gave a favourable character to the reign of Philip Augustus. His intercourse with his contemporary princes was not so uniformly praiseworthy. It must be supposed, that Henry of England entertained no small apprehension of the increasing^ influence of a young prince, who, M'ith better judg- ment than his father Louis, entertained the same jealousy of the overgrown power of his vassal of Normandy. These apprehensions became yet more alarming, when the King of England found that his children, Henry, Richard, and Geoffirey, to whom John, the youngest of the brethren, now joined himself, were engaged in intrigues with the King of France, in order to obtain a portion of Henry's English dominions, as a reward for lending their assistance to Philip, to strip their father of the whole. Embarrassing as were these unnatural cabals, the manner in which the King of England was freed from them in the case of Henry, his eldest son, was yet more afflicting to the father. An express brought the news that his son had indeed repented of his filial ingratitude, but it was coupled with the tidings that the youth lay on his death-bed, and implored his father's blessing and forgiveness. So great was the king's suspicion of those about the younger Henry, that he was afraid to intrust his royal person in their hands, even on this pressing occasion. Controlling, therefore, his desire to fly to the sick 219 DEATH OP HIS ELDEST SON. bed of his son, the king sent him his pardon, his blessing, and a ring of gold, as a well-known token to assure him of both. The dying penitent, to show the sincerity of his repentance, tied a halter about his neck, arrayed himself in sackcloth, and com- manded himself to be stretched upon a layer a. d. of ashes, and in this manner expired. ll^^- The aged king swooned away three times upon hearing of the death of his son, and broke into the most unbounded lamentations. Besides the strength of natural affection, Henry, doubtless, considered his eldest son, when he should be recalled to the obedience he owed his father, as the most hkely to assert and maintain his high place as a vassal of the French crown. He had by no means the same confidence in the talents of his other sons, and was thus altogether inconsolable for the death of his eldest born. New wars and misunderstandings between France and England arose on a pretence not of an upright nature, on the part of Henry. Adelaide, sister to Philip, King of France, had been for some time residing at the court of England, under the paction that she was to be united to Richard, now the eldest surviving son of Henry II. But for some reasons, not now easily ascertained, the King of England repeatedly postponed the marriage, so as to bring himself under the suspicion that he entertained a passion for the young princess, neither agreeable to his understanding or years. King Philip now demanded at the sword's point the settlement of his sister's marriage. Other causes of discontent constantly arising between so powerful a superior and so haughty a vassal, exasperated the dispute on both sides ; nor did the talents of Henry, 220 WARS BETWEEN FRANCE AND ENGLAND. whom age had somev/hat deprived of his activity, preserve the same ascendency over the youthful PhiHp, which they had exercised over his father Louis le Jeune. The engagement by which both monarchs were bound to embark in a joint crusade, suspended the progress of their private wars. But, notwithstanding, a singular incident showed a. d. how inveterate was the quarrel between their 1188. subjects as well as themselves. The monarchs had met in a personal conference in a plain near Gisors, the frontier of their domi- nions, destitute of shade, except that of a single venerable elm tree, which grew on the Norman side of the boundary. The sun was burning hot ; but, instead of admittnig his liege sovereign, the King of France, to a share of the shadow of the elm tree, Henry, with less than his usual courtesy, protected himself and his party from the heat under the boughs, from which they excluded Philip and his followers. The French, incensed at this assumption of superi- ority, though in a matter so trifling, and further pro- voked by the raillery of Henry's attendants, suddenly charged the English sword in hand. Henry escaped with difficulty to the castle of Gisors, several of his attendants were slain in his defence, and Philip caused the elm to be cut down, in token of his vic- tory. In other actions, though of slight importance, PhiHp also gained some superiority, the rather that Richard, the son of Henry, desirous of being wedded to the Princess Adelaide, took part with the King of France against his father. Henry's youngest son, John, proved also disobedient, like his other chil- dren, but in a more unprovoked and unjustifiable degree. The king of England's health was inno- DEATH OF HENRY II. 221 vated upon by defeats and disgraces, to which his earlier years had been altogether strangers. His feelings were racked by the sense of his children's ingratitude, and his body at the same time attacked by a fever. On his death-bed, he declared that Geoftrey, his natural son, whom he had created chancellor, was the only one of his family who had acted towards him uniformly with filial respect and obedience. In this melancholy state, grief and mortification aided the progress of the fever which raged in his veins ; and the death of this great and intelligent prince removed from the growing and increasing power of Philip one of the greatest ob- stacles to the success of his reign. The King of France, relieved from one of his most constant enemies, now formed a close alliance with Richard, (called, from his courage, Coeur de Lion,) who, succeeding to King Henry's crown, and full of youthful love of adventure, made himself a voluntary party to the fatal expedition for the restoration of the fallen kingdom of Jerusalem, which his father had engaged in so unwilHngly, and so frequently postponed. Philip of France readily adopted him as brother and companion of his enter- prise. The characters of these kings had a near resem- blance to each other. Both were brave, skilful in war, ambitious, and highly desirous of honour. Both also appear to have been, upon religious prin- ciple, sincerely bent upon their romantic expedition. But the character of Richard united the most des- perate courage with the extremity of rashness and obstinacy, which reduced his feats of valour to the extravagant and useless exploits of an actual mad- man ; whereas Philip combined caution and policy 19* 222 POWER OF 3ULTAN SALADIN. with a high pitch of valour, and was by far a more able monarch than his rival, though displaying in a less degree the quajities of a knight of romance. The armies of the confederate princes rendez- voused at Lyons, where Philip took the road to Italy, by crossing the Alps, in order to embark at Genoa, while Richard, with his host, took shipping at Marseilles. At the time when the two most powerful nations of Christendom took arms for the rescue of Pales- tine, a country which their superstitions rendered so important to them, the fragments of the kingdom of Godfrey of Boulogne were fast disappearing from their sight. Saladin, King, or Sultan, of Egypt, a prince as brave, and far more cool-headed and sagacious than either of the Christian kings-errant who came to attack him, and rescue Palestine from his victorious sabre, had made an eminently suc- cessful war against the Latin kingdom of Jerusa- lem. His power had been by degrees accumulating, and the power of an Eastern despot must usually bear a proportion to his military talents. Saladin's, therefore, was considerable. He had made himself master of Egypt, and great part of Syria, and pre- texts could never be wanting to assail the kingdom of Jerusalem itself, since, besides the professed animosity between the followers of Christianity and of Mahometanism, Saladin had to complain of the aggressions of a freebooting Christian baron, named Reginald de Chatillon, who had seized a fortress on the verge of the desert, from v/hich ho pillaged the Eastern caravans, and interrupted the pious journey of the Mahometan pilgrims to the tomb of their Prophet at Mecca. STATE OF AFFAIRS IN PALESTINE. 223 Jerusalem, torn to pieces by intestine divisions, seemed to be tottering to its fall, when Saladin en- tered into Palestine at the head of eighty thousand men. Guy of Lusignan, a prince of no talents, had succeeded to the crown of thorns. He raised the whole force of the Holy Land to repel the invasion; but he permitted himself to be deluded by Count Raymond of Tripoli, who maintained a correspon- dence with Saladin. The renegade chief, or apostate, betrayed the Christian army into ground where the mail-clad knights of Europe fainted for want of water, and were overwhelmed by the arrows of the light- mounted infidels. Lusignan was made prisoner, with the loss of thirty thousand men. When, fainting with thirst and agony of mind, he was brought before Saladin, the Mahometan courte- ously presented him with his own cup of sherbet, cooled with ice. But when Lusignan passed the goblet in turn to Reginald de Chatillon, who had provoked the v/ar, Saladin instantly severed the freebooter's head from his body. " The king's cup," he said, " betokens mercy. Princes do not slaughter captive kings ; but robbers like this are punished with death." Many of the military orders of Hospitallers and Templars, v/ere also put to death. Jerusalem did not remain under the Christian power for a fortnight after the battle ^{gy* of Tiberias, and Saladin became master of the Holy City. The expulsion of the Christians from Palestine was not yet completed. The strong city of Tyre was valiantly defended by Conrade of Montferrat ; and the victorious Saladin was obliged to retire from before it, with considerable loss. 224 SIEGE OF ACRE. It could hardly be said whether the loss of Jeru- salem, or the siege of Acre, had most effect in rousing to arms the warlike nations of Europe who pressed forward in hosts to revenge King Guy of Lusignan, or gain glory or martyrdom under Con- rade of Montferrat. The multitude of adventurers from Europe enabled the king of Jerusalem, whom Saladin had not thought worth detaining in captivity, to form the siege of Ptolemais, or Acre, a strong place, possessing an excellent harbour, the occupa- tion of which might facilitate greatly the arrival of succours from Europe, which were promised on all sides. The siege of Acre had lasted till the spring of the second year. Saladin had pitched his camp, and lay with his numerous followers within a few leagues of the town, and daily skirmishes took place between the contending armies. In the meantime, the new crusade, under Philip and Richard, began to roll towards the east. The King of France appeared first on this event- ful scene, but proved unequal to decide the fate of Acre, though he tried to do so by a fierce and gene- ral assault. Richard came soon after, having lin- gered by the way to chastise Isaac, King of Cyprus, who had offended him, and was deprived of his dominions, by way of punishment. On the arrival of King Richard before Acre, (if old romances and tradition say true,) he led his troops to the assault in person, and broke down a postern door with his strong hand and weighty battle-axe. Leopold, Duke of Austria, also distinguished himself by his personal intrepidity, for which, as armorial bearings were then coming into use, the emperor is said to have assigned him a fesse argent, in a field gules, to express that his person had, in the assault, been JEALOUSY BETWEEN RICHARD AND PHILIP. 225 covered with blood from head to foot, except the place under his sword-belt. Saladin, who saw the fate of Acre could no longer be protracted, gave the citizens permisson to make the best terms for themselves they could, and on his part became bound to set all Christian cap- tives at liberty, and to restore to the crusaders the cross on which our Saviour suffered, — at least a relic which bore that reputation, and which had been taken by him at the battle of Tiberias. But Sala- din either could not, or did not, comply with these conditions. The impetuous Richard would hear of no delay, and put to death at once all his Mahome- tan prisoners, to the number of seven thousand men. On account of this rashness and cruelty, Richard sustained the just blame of having occa- sioned the death of an equal number of Christians, prisoners to the Sultan, whom Saladin slaughtered by the way of reprisal. While the fiu-ious Richard was thus incurring public censure, he had the mortification to see Philip acquire, at his cost, the praise of superior wisdom and moderation ; for, by protecting his Mahometan prisonei's alive, the French king was able to ex- change them for so many captive Christians, and thus avoided an useless v.tiste of life upon both sides. The difference between the calm, reason- able, and politic character of Philip, began to be remarked by the soldiers, and, though the common men preferred the rude, savage, and fearless charac- ter of the English monarch, the wise and experi- enced leaders saw higher personal qualities in his companion and rivnl, and accomplishments more 'beseeming in a prince who would make his people happy. The consciousness that they were thus 226 DISSENSIONS AMONG THE CRUSADERS. compared together, estimated, and preferred, ac- cording to men's judgment or their humour, had its usual effect of inspiring jealousy betwixt the French and English kings, nor had the common cause in which they were engaged influence enough to check their animosities. Another cause of discontent was occasioned by Richard's violence of temper at this celebrated siege, of which he had afterwards much personal occasion to rue the consequence. When the city of Acre surrendered, Leopold, Duke of Austria, assum- ing upon the merit, in virtue of which a new armo- rial cognizance had been assigned him, caused his own banner to be displayed from the principal tower. The fierce temper of the King of England caught fire at the Austrian's arrogance, and he commanded the banner to be pulled down, and thrown into the ditch of the place. The Duke felt the indignity offered to him, but forbore to manifest any resent- ment till time and circumstances put in his power ample means of revenging the indignity, though with little credit to his faith or manhood. These various heart-burnings gave rise to parties in the camp and council of the crusaders, where Richard attached himself to Guy de Lusignan, and Philip took the part of the gallant Conrade de Mont- ferrat, between whom there occurred many feuds and quarrels. These divisions were so notorious, that when Conrade was slain by the daggers of two of the tribe called Assassins, being the followers of the Scheik, or Old Man of the Mountain, it was reported that they had been suborned by Richard. Philip affected to give credit to a charge inconsistent with the manly, though violent character of his rival. The French monarch selected a new body-guard, PHILIP ABANDONS THE ENTERPRISE. 227 armed with iron maces, by whom he caused his person to be watched day and night. Neither were any strangers admitted to him ; precautions which necessarily impUed suspicions dishonourable to Cceur de Lion. With whatever views Philip of France had origi- nally undertaken the crusade, he quickly found that the enterprise was of a ruinous and desperate na- ture, and that even the barren laurels which must suffice as a reward for health, riches, and armies wasted in Palestine, would fall ni an undue share to his partner in the undertaking, whose reckless va- lour and insatiable desire of military renown, made Richard more fitted than his rival for the insane ad- venture in which they were engaged, and better qua- lified to meet the peculiar difficulties which they had to encounter. The arrogant and capricious character of the EogHsh king required also to be soothed and kept in temper with more attention and deference, than a monarch like Philip could find it agreeable to pay to a prince who was in some degree his inferior, in so far that he paid him homage for a large part of his dominions. Nor did it escape Philip's discernment, that if he made use at home of the troops and trea- sure which he was likely to expend in the fruitless prosecution of the purposes of the crusade, he might avail himself of the opportunity to annex to the crown of France the fiefs of some of those great vassals who were daily falling in the wars of Pales- tine. He might also urge his purpose of withdrawing from the Holy War, upon grounds which promised advantage to the prosecution of it. For as he and Richard, being in one point of view of equal rank. 228 Philip's return to France. ao-reed so very ill, and distracted the councils of the crusading powers by their rival pretensions and contradictory opinions, it seemed that Philip, by withdrawing from the enterprise, removed a source of disagreement which was a principal obstacle to their success. For these reasons, real or ostensible, the French king determined to return from Pales- tine to his own country ; and to silence the re- proaches of those who upbraided him with desert- ing the cause of Christendom, he left in Syria a strong division of ten thousand picked troops, with five hundred men-at-arms, to co-operate in the task of recovering the Holy Sepulchre. It was necessary also to satisfy, at least to stop, the complaints of Richard, who alleged, as a leading motive of Philip's return, his purpose of making war upon the English monarch in Normandy and his other French dominions. To escape this scan- dalous suspicion, the King of France, before his departure for Europe, pledged a solemn vow to King Richard, not to attack any of his dominions, nor dispossess any of his vassals, while he was absent in the crusade. Yet, when Philip passed through Rome on his return home, he made as much interest as he could with the reigning Pope, (Celestine III.,) that he might be absolved from the oath which he had pledged to Richard to the above effect. Philip, whose first wife had died during his ab- sence in the Holy Land, had no sooner returned to his own kingdom, than he resolved to marry for a second, Ingerberge, sister of Canute, King of Den- mark. With this princess, it vv'as his object to attain a transference of all the rights competent to her family, (descended of the famous Canute, King of England,) and obtain thereby a pretext for invading ACHIEVEMENTS OF RICHARD. 229 England, as if the throne of that kingdom had been unlawfully possessed by the dynasty of Anjou. But the Danish monarch did not choose to transfer his claims, for the purpose of affording Philip the pre- text he desired for attacking his late brother and companion in arms, while engaged in the religious warfare to which they had both been sworn. The plans of Philip were disconcerted by this refusal. The King of France, whose conduct on this occasion neither merits the epithet of Most Chris- tian, bestowed on the sovereigns of his race, nor that of August, given to distinguish him individually, sought a new and discreditable channel through which to strike at his enemy. He formed a close alliance with John, brother of Richard, and youngest son of Henry H. This prince, one of the worst men who afflicted these evil times, was as easily in- duced to make efforts to usurp the territories of a generous brother, as he had been formerly found ready to rebel against his indulgent father, and he seems readily to have agreed, that Philip should be at liberty to work his pleasure upon Richard's domi- nions in France, provided he was admitted to his share of the spoil. In the meantime, while his European dominions were thus exposed to an ungrateful brother and a faithless ally, Richard was rivalling in the Holy Land the imaginary actions of the champions of romance. He conquered Cesarea and Jaffa ; he drove Saladin before him for eleven days of contin- ued battle. He defied armies with a handful of men, and challenged to combat, in his own person, an extended line of thousands, not one of whom dared quit their ranks to encounter him. He even came within sight of Jerusalem, but declined to look upon VOL. I. 20 230 IMPRISONMENT OP RICHARD. ■ ' • the sepulchre, which he found himself not strong enough to gain by battle. In the midst of these wonders, Richard was recalled by the news of the intrigues of John and Philip. He embarked with precipitation, having patched up a hasty peace with Saladin, and leaving a name in the East, with which, long after, the Saracens were wont to upbraid a starting horse, demanding if he thought the bush was King Richard, that he sprang aside from it ! Richard's embarkation was the beginning of a series of calamities, which gave the King of France time to arrange his perfidious plans. The King of Eng- land was shipwrecked on the coast of Dalrnatia, and was betrayed into the hands of that very Duke of Austria, whom he had affronted, by displacing his standard at Acre. Leopold meanly seized the op- portunity of vengeance which chance afforded him^ and threw the unhappy prince into prison, charging him with many crimes alleged to have been commit- ted in Palestine. His place of confinement was for some time kept concealed, and the story how it was discovered, though well known, is worthy of mention. It was no part of Richard's character to be, like his rival Philip, a hater of music or minstrelsy. On the contrary, he was an admirer of what was, at that time, called the Gay Science^ and often practised the arts of song and music himself. Blondel de Nesle, a favourite minstrel, who had attended his person, devoted himself to discover the place of his confine- ment. He wandered in vain, from castle to palace, till he learned that a strong, and almost inaccessible fortress, upon the Danube, was watched with pecu- liar strictness, as containing some state prisoner of distinction. IMPRISONMENT OF RICHARD. 231 The minstrel took his harp, and approaching as near the castle as he durst, came so nigh the walls as to hear the melancholy captive soothing his im- prisonment with music. Blondel touched his harp ; the prisoner heard and was silent : upon this the minstrel played the first part of a tune, or lay, known to the captive, who instantly played the second part ; and thus the faithful servant obtained the certainty that the inmate of the castle was no other than his royal master. It is uncertain if Blondel carried news of Richard's imprisonment to the emperor, but such news reached him. The emperor compelled the Duke of Austria to surrender his person, and being a rough, ungenerous man, he seems only to have considered how much money he could extort by having in his power one of the richest, as well as most powerful sovereigns in Chi'istendom, the only cause of whose imprisonment was the misfortune that threw him on the coast. Philip, hearing of Richard's captivity in Germany, offered, it is said, a sum of money, provided the emperor would dehver Cceur de Lion into his hands. Perhaps the emperor thought it would be too detri- mental to his reputation, were he to make such a transference ; but although he refused so dishonour- able a treaty, he failed not, for some time, to lend a favourable ear to many specious reasons urged by Philip for detaining his late ally in close confine- ment. Meantime, the selfish King of France formed a fresh contract with Prince John, by which the unnatural brother was to do all in his power to assert a claim to the crown of England, while Richard's French territories in Normandy and elsewhere, were to fall to Philip's share ; and, that no form might be want- 232 LIBERATION OF RICHARD. ing, the French king dispatched a herald to denounce war against Richard, then a close prisoner. The forms of public faith are seldom observed with such rigid technicality, as when they are used as a cloak to carry into execution what is, in fact, flagrant injustice. Accordingly, Philip, after using this un- necessary and absurd form of defiance against a defenceless captive, assaulted, upon various pre- texts, the frontiers of Normandy, and made con- quests there, bestowing towns on his ally, John, or retaining them to himself, at his pleasure ; and explaining to such of his chivalry or allies as enter- tained, or affected, a disinclination to such unjust procedure, that he did not attack Richard in breach of his oath, but in consequence of old causes of quarrel about his sister's portion. While Philip was preparing for his imperial title of Augustus, by a sys- tem of spoliation resembling that of a Roman empe- ror, he received sudden intelligence, that the large ransom which the emperor's avarice had set on the freedom of Richard, had been at length defrayed by the loyalty of his subjects. He communicated the alarming news to his associate, John, in the expres- sive phrase, " Have a care of yourself — the devil is loose !" Whatever alarm these words might imply, Philip knew that no pause in his ambitious project would secure him from Richard's resentment, now that the captive lion had obtained his liberty. He therefore did not even attempt to disguise his enmity ; he openly invaded Noi-mandy, and besieged Verneuil. But the scene began to change, on the part of his unnatural ally. Richard's unexpected, arrival in England had entirely destroyed the treacherous schemes of the TREACHERY AND CRUELTY OF JOHN. 233 faithless John. That wicked prince saw now no means of security, except by taking some decisive step, which would demonstrate that he had cast off King Philip's favour, and thrown himself entirely upon his brother's clemency. The action by which he proposed to make these intentions manifest, was atrociously characteristic. He invited to the castle of Evreux, in which Philip had invested him, those Norman chiefs and officers most favourable to the schemes of the French king, and who had doubtless communicated with John himself, on the plans of plundering Richard, which he had nourished before his brother's return. Having welcomed these men hospitably, and feasted them royally, he surprised, seized upon, and murdered his guests, when unsus- picious of danger, and incapable of resistance. He cut off their heads to the number of three hundred, and arranged them upon pikes around the castle, in the fashion of a bloody garland. By this faithless and cruel action, John meant to break all terms with Philip, his late abettor in his rebellion against his brother ; but that king avenged this double treachery as the action deserved. He made a hasty march to Evreux, surprised John's English garrison, and put them to the sword, laying in ashes the town itself, as the scene of such treachery. Richard advanced in turn, and obtained some advantages, in which he took the whole chancery of the French king. But Richard was too much weakened by the rebellion of his vassals, and the impoverishment of his realm, to follow the war so promptly as his nature would have dictated. Truces, therefore, followed each other, which were as rapidly broken as they were formed, until at length both princes were brought, by the legate of 20* 234 DEATH OF RICHARD. the Pope, to entertain thoughts of a soHd and lasting peace. But, ere it was yet concluded, a paltry a. d. enterprise cost Richard Coeur de Lion that ^^^' life which he had risked in so many affairs of so much greater consequence. One of his vassals had found a treasure concealed in the earth upon his fief. Richard demanded possession of it, such discoveries being considered a part of the superior's interest in the benefice. It was refused, and the king flew to besiege the vassal's castle, an incon- siderable place. He soon reduced it to extremity , but an archer took aim from the walls with a cross- bow, and the bolt mortally wounded Cceur de Lion The castle was surrendered ere the king had died of his wound. Richard commanded the unlucky marksman to be brought before him, and demanded, why he had sought his life so earnestly ? " You slew," replied the archer, whose name was Bertram de Gurdun, " my father, and my brother, and you were seeking my own life ; had I not reason to prevent you, if I could, by taking yours ] " The dying king acknowledged that he had reason for his conduct, and, forgiving his offence against his person, generously commanded him to be dis- missed unharmed. But Richard was dying while he gave the command, and the injunctions of dying sovereigns are not always respected. The captain of a band of Richard's mercenaries put De Gurdun to death, by flaying him alive, as the most cruel mode of revenging their monarch's death which the ingenuity of these rude soldiers could devise. Coeur de Lion was succeeded in his throne by the tyrant John. There are not many portraits in history which display fewer redeeming qualities. Philip's designs upon England. 235 He was a bad father, a bad brother, a bad monarch, and a bad man ; yet he was preferred to the succes- sion, notwithstanding the existence of Arthur Duke of Bretagne, who was son to the deceased Geoffrey, the immediate younger brother of Richard, and the senior to John. Arthur's claim of inheriting a suc- cession which came by his father's elder brother, would be now perfectly understood as preferable to that of his uncle ; but, in the days of King John, the right of a brother was often preferred to that of a nephew, the son of an elder brother, from some idea then entertained, that in the former case, the brother was one step nearer in blood to the deceased person. But, notwithstanding John's becoming King of England, and Duke of Normandy, great discontent prevailed in his French dominions, as in Anjou, Maine, and other provinces, where the nobles and knights would have greatly preferred the sway of the young Prince Arthur, to that of his uncle. Philip King of France, whose career of ambition had been checked by the return, and formidable oppo- sition, of Richard Cceur de Lion, foresaw that the moment was arrived when he might safely, and with the consent of the vassals themselves, resume his labours to reunite, under the immediate sovereignty of the crown of France, the great fiefs of Normandy granted to Rollo, and the other provinces of which the late Henry II. of England had, by his marriage with Eleanor, the repudiated wife of Philip le Jeune, and other transactions, obtained possession. The character and conduct of John was so unpo- pular, that there was httle doubt that the barons and vassals of the English provinces lying in France, who might have thought it disgraceful to desert the standard of Richard, especially during his imprison- 236 Philip's aversion to his second wife. raent, would now eagerly transfer their allegiance to their lord paramount, Philip, in preference to the voluptuous tyrant who succeeded Coeur de Lion on the throne of England. But although this was a crisis so favourable and so important for extending the authority of France, Philip was, by some domes- tic embarrassments, prevented for a time from reaping the harvest which had ripened before him. The circumstances illustrate the manners of the age, and are worthy of your attention. Philip, like many other men, otherwise of high qualities, was greatly attached to women, and some- times sacrificed his policy to his pleasures. He lost his first wife in childbed, of twins, and as we have already hinted, took for his second wife, the Prin- cess Ingerberge of Denmark, with the purpose of obtaining, as part of her fortune, the cession of the pretensions of the descendants of Canute to the throne of England, which might give him a pretence to disturb the heirs of William the Conqueror, now in possession of that kingdom. His marriage took place ; but, disappointed at not succeeding in this intended purpose, or displeased with his new bride's person, and determined to annul the man-iage, Philip sent the Danish princess to a convent before she had resided two days in his palace. The king's aversion to the unfortunate Inger- berge was so great, that the simplicity of the times supposed that a sense of dislike so sudden and strong, could only arise from the effect of magic, — as if any magic could operate more powerfully than the caprices of a self-willed despot. With the same unjust fickleness, Philip employed some of the more subservient prelates about his court, to discover cause for a divorce which was easily found in the usual INTERDICT BY THE POPE. 237 pretext of too close alliance in blood between the wedded parties. A pedigree was drawn up to favour the plea, in consequence of which, a com- plaisant council of French bishops passed a sentence of divorce between Philip and Ingerberge, within three years after their separation. The king then proceeded to marry Agnes de Merania, daughter to the Duke of Dalma- i[^\ tia. The King of Denmark remonstrated at Rome, where his complaints found favourable hear- ing, against the injury and insult offered to his un- offending daughter. The legate of the Pope, having taken cognisance of this important case, declared formally that the marriage with Ingerberge remained binding, and admonished the king to put away her rival, Agnes, as one with whom he could have no legal tie. As Philip remained obstinate and impe- nitent, the Pope proceeded to lay his kingdom under an interdict, which, while it lasted, prohibited the performance of divine service of every kind, the administration of the sacraments, the reading the services for the dead; or for marriage or baptism, occasioning thereby an inexpressible confusion in the country where these divine rites were suspend- ed, and all civil affairs, of course, interrupted. Philip, enraged at the perseverance of the Pope, revenged himself on the clergy. He seized on their temporal effects, imprisoned the canons of the cathedrals, and raised heavy taxes on all classes, by which he maintained such large bodies of merce- nary soldiers, as made resistance impossible on the part of his vassals. At length, finding it difficult to remain in this state of violence, Philip made a com- promise with the Pope, agreeing that he would be- come amenable to the obedience of the church, 238 INTERDICT WITHDRAWN. '- providing his holiness would condescend once more to examine the question of the divorce and marriage. A council was accordingly held at Soissons, for the re-examination of an affair that was extremely sim- ple. Fifteen days were spent by churchmen and canonists in these subtle questions, which rather perplex than enlighten justice, when, suddenly, a young and unknown speaker took the side of the divorced queen, with such persuasive force of truth, that the churchmen conceived they heard themselves addressed by the voice of an angel. The king himself perceived his cause was inde- fensible, and resolved to take back the Danish princess, as if of his own accord, ere yet he should be compelled to do so by the order of the council. He therefore told the legate abruptly that he would settle the affair with his wives in his own way. He did so accordingly, with very little ceremony, instantly riding to the convent where the discarded Ingerberge resided, taking her up behind him on the same steed, and proceeding with her in that manner to Paris, where he publicly acknowledged her for his lawful wife. Ingerberge, with the same patient obedience which distinguished her while in the cloister, returned to the world, and lived and died blameless, if not beloved. The fate of Agnes de Merania was more melancholy ; she died of a broken heart at feeling herself reduced from the rank of a royal matron to that of a concubine. By an arrangement so simply produced, Philip gained the advantage of being restored from the condition of an interdicted and excommunicated prince, to that of a true and lawful sovereign, who might justly receive the complaints of the church, as well as of inferior persons, against his vassal INSURRECTION IN GUIENNE. 239 John, for certain enormities which were not very- distant in character from those for which Philip himself had been so lately laid under an interdict. John, whose only use of power was to forward his own pleasures, had, during a progress in Guienne become captivated with the charms of Isabel, the beautiful daughter of the Earl of Angouleme. This young beauty was betrothed to Hugh le Brun, Earl de la Marche, and had been delivered up to her be- trothed husband. But John, who was totally unac- customed to bridle his passions, was induced to banish a wife with whom he had eujoyed ten years of undis- turbed union, and, by tempting tne ambition of Aymar, Count of Angouleme, easily bribed him to accept a king for a son-in-law, instead of a simple count. This rash and hasty action incurred much censure. The Earl de la Marche, thus de- i2W)[ prived of his intended and betrothed bride, -and bent on revenge for so gross an injury, broke out, with his brother the Earl of Eu, and other con- federates in Guienne, into open rebellion. John, alarmed for the consequences — for he was well aware of his own unpopularity — summoned together his English vassals, in order to put an end to the insurrection ere it spread wider. But although the English barons had seldom hesitated to follow their kings td France, as a country where they were wont to acquire wealth and warlike fame, it was no part of their feudal obligation to serve the king be- yond the limits of Britain, unless with their own free consent. On this occasion, disliking the cause or the prince, the great English barons obeyed John's summons but slowly. John was attended, therefore, by too small an army to secure the impli- cit submission of his refractory nobles ; and while he 240 INSURRECTION IN GUIENNE, carried on a languid war against the disaffected, the insurrection gained new and formidable supporters. Arthur, son of Geoffrey, and nephew of John, began now to complain, that out of his uncle Richard's succession he had been only suffered to retain the dukedom of Bretagne ; which was the more unjust, as Richard, Vvhen he v. ent to the Holy Land, had designed Geoffrey his father, in whose right Arthur stood, as heir of all his French domi- nions. Incensed at this grievance, the young duke, who was scarcely sixteen years of age, entertained a secret correspondence with the discontented lords of Guienne ; and the whole conspiracy became ma- nifest, when Philip, claiming, as liege lord, the right of deciding between John and his dissatisfied vas- sals, declared himself the protector of the insur- gents of Guienne, and the assertor of the claims of Arthur. Both nations took arms, and on each side an ambitious and violent tempered woman urged the quarrel to extremity. Constance, the mother of Arthur, and widow of his deceased father Geoffrey, incited her son to war against his uncle John by every argument in her power; and, on the other hand, the dowager Queen Eleanor, that celebrated heiress, who transferred Aquitaine from Philip le Jeune to Henry II., was still alive, and violent in behalf of King John, whom she loved better than her other sons, because he resembled her more in disposition than any of his brothers. These two haughty and high-tempered ladies had personal animosities against each other, and inflamed the war by female taunts and female resentments. Our great dramatic poet Shakspeare has made their wrangling immortal, by intermixing it with the plot of his celebrated play of King John. CRUELTY OF JOHN. 241 In the year 1202 hostilities commenced. iio^ Young Arthur took the field in the west of France with two hundred knights, and gained some successes, but experienced on the following occasion, so far as the young prince was concerned, a woful and irrecoverable reverse. Having, on his march through Poitou, received information that the dowager Queen Eleanor, his own and his mother's personal enemy, was residing in the adjacent castle of Mirabel, Arthur flew to invest it, and make sure of her as a prisoner. The defence was vigorous, but at length the besiegers possessed themselves of the base court, and were well nigh carrying the great tower, or keep, of the castle. The arrival of King- John changed the scene ; he was at no great dis- tance with an army more numerous than that of his nephew, consisting chiefly of mercenaries. Arthur with his little band, marched to meet their unexpected foe, but was completely routed, and dri- ven back to the castle of Mirabel, where they were all either slain or made prisoners. Arthur himself, the Comte de la Marche, and two hundred knights, were among the latter ; and if John could have used a decisive victory with humanity and moderation, he might have preserved his French dominions, and averted a long and almost uninterrupted chain of well-deserved misfortunes. But neither humanity nor moderation were a part of his character ; and it may be remarked, that there is no surer road to ad- versity than misused prosperity. The fate of the prisoners taken in this skirmish of Mirabel, was atrociously cruel. That of Arthur was never exactly known ; but all authors agree that he was murdered at Rouen by his jealous uncle John — some allege, in his presence, and others affirm, VOL. I. 21 242 FORFEITURE OF NORMANDY. with his own hand. Of the young prince's allies and friends, twenty-five of the noblest and bravest were starved to death in Corfe Castle. The minds of all men revolted a.gainst the author of this disgraceful abuse of victory. The barons of Bretagne accused John at the footstool of Philip, their leige lord, of the crime of murdering their duke, and his own nephev/, in the person of the un- happy Arthur. As the king of England did not appear to answer to their charge, he vras pronounced guilty of felony and treason, and ail his dominions in Normandy were declared forfeited to his liege lord the King of France. Thus v;as the crisis ar- rived which Philip had long waited for. Over the extensive territories held for so fnany years by wise, warlike, and powerful princes, there was now placed a person, who, by tyranny and inhumanity, was sure to incur a just doom of forfeiture, and, by cowardice and indolence, was incapable of saving himself from the consequences, by a resolute defence. Accordingly, when Philip, at the head of his army, began to enforce the doom of forfeiture, or, in plain language, to conquer Normandy for his own, it was astonishing how rapidly the structure of feudal power, which had been raised by the sagacity of William the Conqueror, and his son and great- grandson, the first and second Henrys, and latterly defended by the iron arm of R,ichard Cceur de Lion, dissolved, when under the sway of the selfish, indo- lent, and irresolute John. Joined by the numerous barons who were disaffected to King John, Philip marched through Normandy, reducing the strong- holds at pleasure, and subjecting the country to his allegiance. ■ • John never even attempted to meet his enemiea JOHiN's FRENCH POSSESSIONS. 243 in the field, but remained in daily riot and revelry at Rouen, struck, as it were, with a judicial infatuation, which so much affected his courage and activity, that about the end of the year, finding the storm of war approach so near as to disturb his slumbers, he fairly fled to England, and left the dukedom of Normandy to its fate. This was not long protracted ; for, with- out much exertion, and with the good will of the countries, whose inhabitants had not forgotten they were by nature part of the kingdom of France, Normandy, with Anjou, Poitou, and Maine, except- ing a few places which remained faithful to the English king, became again annexed to the crown of France. Rouen itself, the capital of Normandy, being abandoned to its own resources, was forced to surrender, and once more became the property of the French kings, three hundred years after it had been conquered by Rollo, the Norman. The infatuated John threw the blame of losing so many fair possessions upon the desertion of the English barons, who would not follow him to France for the purpose of defending his Norman dominions. He more than once summoned his vassals, as if with the fixed purpose of invading the territories he had lost ; but the expedition vras ahvays deferred, under pretence that the musters v/ere not complete, until it became the conviction of every one, that the ar- maments were only intended to afford a pretext for levying fines on the vassals who neglected the royal summons. A single feeble attempt to cross the seas with an army, only served to show the imbecility of the English leader ; and retiring before Philip, and avoiding the combat which he offered, the degene- rate John did but prove his personal co'.vardice, and 244 Philip's designs upon England. ignorance as a commander. Thus, almost without opposition, did Phihp unite, under the French em- pire, those provinces so long separated from the kingdom to which they belonged as a natural part. The event was the most useful, as well as most bril- liant, of his reign, and must be reckoned the princi- pal cause for bestowing upon Philip the flattering name of Augustus. The extreme indolence and imbecility of John encouraged the King of France, who, through all his reign, evinced a high cast of ambition and po- licy, to extend his views even beyond the limits of the French dominions of the English prince ; and pushing his opportunity against one so inactive and impolitic, he resolved to attempt achieving a second conquest of England, while its crown was placed on so unworthy a head. The success of William the Conqueror, under circumstances much less favour- able, was doubtless called to mind, as an encoura- ging example. Some apology, or show of justice, was indeed wanting for such an invasion ; for Eng- land was no dependency of France, like Normandy or Anjou, nor had King Philip a right to declare that realm forfeited as a fief of his crown, whatever may have been the delinquencies of its tyrannical sove- reign. But it was John's ill luck, or misconduct, so to manage his affairs, as to afford, not Philip alone, but any Christian prince in Europe, as full right to make war upon and dispossess him of his English dominions, as the church of Rome, which then claim- ed the right of placing and dethroning monarchs, was competent to confer. The rash monarch of England laid himself open to this, by a dispute with the Pope, at any time a formidable opponent, but an DISPUTE BETWEEN JOHN AND THE POPE. 245 irresistible one to a sovereign so universally detest- ed as John. This dispute, so remarkable in its consequences, arose thus : In 1205, the right of electing an Archbishop ^205.' ^^ Canterbury was disputed between the monks of the cathedral, who made choice of their own sub-prior, Reginald, and the King of Eng- land, with the prelates of the province, who made choice of the Bishop of Norwich. Both sides ap- pealed to the Pope, who immediately began to take the dispute under his own management, with the purpose of so conducting the contest, as to augment the unhmited power which he claimed to exercise over Christendom. The Pontiff decided, in the first place, that the right of electing the archbishop lay exclusively in the monks. He next declared both elections to be vacant, and proceeding to fill the important situation with a creature of his own, commanded the monks of Canterbury, who had come to Rome to solicit the disputed election, to make a new choice for the office, indicating Stephen Langdon as the candidate whom they were to prefer. The monks pleaded the irregularity of such an election, and alleged vows which rendered it unlawful for them to hold such a course. The Pope answered their objections by his plenary power. He dispensed with the irregu- larity by his papal authority, annulled the obligations of the oaths of the monks, and compelled them, under penalty of the highest censure of the church, to proceed as he enjoined them. John with a spirit which he only showed when resistance was remote, remonstrated with Pope Innocent on such an irre- gular attempt to fix a primate on England. 21* 246 EXCOMMUNICATION OF JOHN. The Pope replied with equal warmth, calling on the king to submit to his authority, before whom every knee must bow. Finally, as King John continued refractory, the Pontiff proceeded to lay all his domi- nions under an interdict, of which the nature has been already explained to you. John endeavoured to avenge himself upon such of the clergy as were within his reach ; but although imprisoned, fined, and even personally punished, the zeal of the church- men for the cause of the Pope, made them dare the fate of martyrs or of confessors. In 1209, when the interdict had continued 1209 ^^^^ years, the Pope proceeded to pronounce sentence of excommunication against John personally, by which he was, so far as the curses of Rome could have effect, thrown out of the pale of the Christian church, his subjects released from their allegiance to him, and his kingdom delivered up to any one who should carry the doom of the Pontiff into execution. More especially, King Philip of France had the express charge of executing the sentence of deposition against his neighbour of Eng- land, and in reward of his expected exertions, was declared king of that country in his stead. Thus placed in the very position which he so earnestly desired to assume, by taking on himself the office of the Pope's champion, the politic Philip sac- rificed to his ambitious views upon England the common interest of princes, and assented to the dangerous doctrine, that the crowns of reigning sov- ereigns were held at the pleasure of the Roman pon- tiff. He assembled a large army near Boulogne, where he had provided no less than seventeen hun- dred vessels to transport them to England. But although dislike to the tyranny of John rendered maay John's submission .to the pope. 247 of his barons indiffereni to his fate, and although the minds of others were affected with superstitious dread of the Pope's anathema, there were yet many EngHshmen resolved to withstand the French inva- sion. The alarm that the kingdom was in danger from foreigners, drew together an immense array, from which it was easy for King John to select sixty thousand well armed and well appointed troops, to oppose the French king. Such were the preparations made to defend Eng- land from invasion, when John, by a secret treaty with Pandulph, the legate of the Pope, endeavoured to avert the danger of the struggle. In this he suc- ceeded — but it was only by an act of submission, the most ignominious of which the world had yet seen an example. By this agreement, the King of England made the most unreserved submission to the Pope concerning Stephen Langton's reception as Archbishop of Canterbury, which was the original dispute, professed penitence for his former refractory conduct, and, in evidence of his sincerity, resigned into the hands of the legate, as representing his holi- ness, his kingdoms of England and Ireland, enga- ging to hold them thereafter, in name of vassal to the Pope, for the tribute of one thousand merks yearly. The Pope was highly gratified with an accommo- dation which had taken a turn so favourable to the extension of the influence, as well as the wealth, of the church, and he issued his mandates in a tone of uncommon arrogance, commanding Philip to forbear any enterprise against John of England, who now had, though formerly a refractory son of the church, reconciled himself with the Pope, was become the vassal of the Holy See, a submissive, amiable, and 248 Philip's invasion of flanders. benign prince, peculiarly entitled to the Pontiff's pro- tection against all injuries. Philip remonstrated at the attempt to render him thus the passive tool of Rome, obliged as such to assume and lay aside his arms at her bidding. He thought it best, however, to com- ply, as he learned that his increasing power, aug- mented as it was with the spoils of John's French territories, was on the eve of exciting a confederacy against him among the crown vassals of France. For this reason, he turned the army designed for the invasion of England against Ferrand, Earl of Flan- ders, whose accession to such a league he had rea- son to apprehend. The great army of France, -with the king at its head, advanced into Flanders accordingly, taking some of the earl's towns, and menacing the subju- gation of his earldom. King John, on the entreaty of Earl Ferrand, sent to his assistance a great fleet, which he had got in readiness while the alarm of the French invasion of England impended, under the command of a natural son of Richard Coeur de Lion, called Longsword, Earl of Salisbury. The Eng- lish had already acquired that superiority at sea, which has been long one of their marked national characteristics. They defeated the French navy, though more numerous than their own, destroying one hundred vessels, taking one hundred more, and dispersing the rest of the fleet. Philip, who with his nobles had lost much valuable property on this occasion, was so much discouraged by an unexpect- ed blow fiom a quarter which he had been little accustomed to fear, that he desisted from his at- tempts against Ferrand, and retired into his own dominions. The alarm which was excited by King Philip's CONFEDERACY AGAINST PHILIP. 249 increasing power and extensive ambition, was far from subsiding on his retreat. On the contrary, the vassals of the crown of France, who had been en- gaged with other c ntinental princes in a confederacy against the crown, were bent on taking advantage of the gleam of success occasioned by the discom- fiture, and to establish, in the moment of victory, some counterbalance against the predominant author- ity of Philip. The confederacy assumed a consistent and alarm- ing appearance, and well deserved the king of France's peculiar attention, as it was like to require the whole strength of his kingdom to resist the com- bined assault of so many enemies. The Emperor Otho lent his active co-operation to the confederates the more readily, as being the nephew, by the mo- ther's side, of King John, whose French dominions Philip had confiscated with so little ceremony or scruple. The Earls of Flanders, Boulogne, Tou- louse, and Auvergne, also joined the enemies of Philip, and visited England in 1214, to arrange the plan of the ensuing campaign. It was agreed on this occasion, that France should be invaded on two sides, so as to find full employ- ment for the forces and skill of her monarch. It was farther determined, that the main attempt should be made by the Emperor Otho and the warlike Earls of Boulogne and Flanders, aided by an auxiliary body of English troops, under command of the cele- brated Longsword, Earl of Salisbury. They were destined to attack the eastern frontiers of France, with a powerful army. John himself, according to the same plan, was to cross the sea to Rochelle, where he was sure to be joined by several friends of the English interest, as well as by the Earls of Au- 250 ARMY OF PHILIP. vergne and Toulouse. Such were the preparations ; the object proposed v/as the dismemberment of the French territories, which were to be divided among the princes of this confederacy. The alUes, in accordance with the superstition of the times, consulted soothsayers on the issue of the war, and received for answer, " that the King of France should be overthrown, and trampled on by the horses' feet, and should not receive funeral rites ; and that Count Ferrand pf Flanders should enter Paris in great pomp after the engagement." The allies received as propitious an oracle, which af- terwards turned out to be of a different and ambiguous character; they accordingly advanced at the head of a numerous army, amounting, it is said, to one hundred and fifty thousand men. They assembled at PeroiMie, in Flanders, and moved south-westwards into France. The army of Philip was not nearly so numerous, but was composed of the flower of the French chiv- alry, with the great princes of the blood royal, and such of the vassals of the crown as were not in the confederacy. The monarch also enjoyed the advan- tage of the bravery and experience of a valiant knight hospitaller, called Guerin, who acted as quarter-master general. Philip, having determined to prevent the wasting of his own country by rava- ging that of the enemy, directed his course towards Hainault with that purpose. But in the course of their march, the French discovered the numerous squadrons of the Emperor, on the opposite side of the Meuse, near Bouvines. The river was crossed by a wooden bridge. The French noblesse on the one side, and the German on the other, rushed emulously to seize the passage But it was occupied by the former ; and the French BATTLE OF BOUVINES. 251 infantry, principally the militia of the towns, passed over under the Oriflamme, or banner of Saint Den- nis, and formed on the western side of the river. The king had stretched himself to repose under an ash tree, when he was roused by^the horsemen who came to apprise him that the battle had commenced. Philip arose with a cheerful countenance, and, step- ping into a church which was near, paid the brief devotions of a soldier. He then advanced to the front of his troops, and recollecting that there were many vassals in his own army who were likely to be secretly affected by the reports generally, and not unjustly, spread abroad concerning his own interested and ambitious dispo- sition, he caused his crown to be placed on a porta- ble altar, arranged in front of his line of battle. " My friends," he said, " it is for the crown of France you fight, and not for him who has of late worn it. If you can rescue it from these men, who are com- bined to degrade and destroy it, the soldier who shall bear him best in its defence, is, for my part, welcome to wear it as his own." This well conceived speech was answered with shouts of " Long live King Philip ! the crown can befit no brow so well as his own." The French army continued to defile across the bridge to sup- port their van, which had already passed over. The array of the allies continued to manoeuvre and extend their wings, for the purpose of surrounding Philip's inferior numbers. But by this manoeuvre they lost the opportunity of charging the French troops, when only a part of their army had passed over, and in taking up their new ground, they exposed their faces to the sun, — a great disadvantage, which they felt severely during the whole action. 252 BATTLE OF BOUVINES. The battle began with incredible fury, and proved one of the most obstinate, as it was certainly one of the most important, actions of those warUke times. The command of the right wing of the allies was entrusted to the Earl of Flanders, the left to the Count of Boulogne, the Emperor having his own place in the centre, under a banner displayed on a species of carriage, on which ensign was represent- ed the imperial eagle holding a dragon in his talons. On the side of France^the king himself, surrounded by the princes of the blood, heading the bravest of the young knights and nobles, and attended by the most distinguished of the prelates and clergy, com- manded the centre. The Duke of Burgundy com- manded the right wing, the Comte de St. Paul the left, and Guerin, the experienced knight hospitaller, arrayed the army, being, although a bishop elect, the most skilful leader in the field. The Comte de St. Paul, who had been unjustly suspected of intercourse with the enemy, said to Guerin, when the battle commenced, " Now, you shall see what manner of traitor I am !" At the onset, the allies had some advantage ; for a body of French light horse, which commenced the attack, were unable to withstand the weight and strength of the huge men and horses of the Flem- ish and German cavalry, to whom they were oppo- sed. One wing of the French army was disarranged in consequence of this check, as well as by the im- petuosity of an attack commanded by Ferrand, Earl of Flanders, who was one of the best warriors on the side of the allies. The emperor assailed with incredible fury and superior forces, the centre, in which Philip and his nobles were stationed. Philip made good the promise which he had given to his B4TTLE OF BOUVINES. 253 soldiers, and fought as desperately as any man in the field. He was at length borne out of his saddle, and wounded in the throat. Gulon de Montigni in vain waved the royal banner, to intimate the disas- ter that had taken place, and Phihp's wars would have ended on the spot, but for the devoted loyalty of some knights, who threw themselves betwixt him and the prevailing Germans. But, almost at the same moment, the Earl of Flanders, who had been at first victorious, was, after great resistance, made prisoner, and his Flemish forces defeated, giving an opportunity for a large body of French cavalry to press closely to the centre, where their assistance was so much required. A band of the nobles who thus came to Philip^ rescue, determined to attack the person of the Em- peror, disregarding meaner objects. They broke through his guard, overturned the chariot which bore his banner, and seized it. They then rushed on Otho's person. Peter de Mauvoisin seized his bri- dle, William des Barres grasped him round the body, and strove to pull him from his horse, Gerard de Trie attempted to strike him through with his sword, and the good corslet protecting the emperor from the blow, the Frenchman again struck with the edge of the sword, and killed Otho's horse. Yet a furious charge of some German men-at-arms relieved their emperor, who was remounted on a swift horse, and left the conflict in despair. " Let him go," said King Philip, who witnessed his enemy's flight, " you will see no more of him to-day than his back !" While the Earl of Flanders and the emperor were thus defeated, the Comte de Boulogne display- ed the greatest courage, by the mode in which he supported his division of the allies. He had esta- VOL. r 22 254 BATTLE OF BOUVINES. blished a strong reserve of foot in a triangular form, behind which, as covered by a fortress, he drew up his men-at-arms, and whence he salHed repeatedly with inexpressible fury. At length, he was pursued into his retreat by the French men-at-arms, who skirmished with him for some time, unable to beat down or despatch him, as horse and man were cover- ed with impenetrable armour, like the invulnerable champions of romance. At last, Pierre des Tourelles, a knight who chanced himself to be dismounted, raised the armour which covered the earl's horse with his hand, and stabbed the good charger. The Earl of Boulogne thus dismounted was added to the captives, who amounted to five earls of the highest name and power, twenty-five seigneurs, or nobles, bearing ban- ners, and nearly as many men of inferior rank as there were soldiers in the conquering army. Philip, considering his disparity of numbers, and satisfied with so complete a victory, would not permit his troops to follow the enemy far. Such was the celebrated battle of Bouvines, on the details of which the French historians dwell with national pride. It lasted from noon ^^u till five in the evening. The scruples of two ecclesiastics, which prohibited them from shedding blood, were on this occasion differently expressed, or rather evaded. Guerin the hospitaller, who was also bishop elect of Senlis, lent Philip the assist- ance of his military experience in drawing up his army, but would not engage personally in the action. Another prelate, Philip, Bishop of Beauvais, thought he sufficiently eluded the canon which prohibited churchmen from shedding blood, by fighting like the chaplain of the Cid, who used an iron mace instead DEATH OP THE COUNT OF BOULOGNE. 255 of a sword. With this, the scrupulous prelate had the honour to strike down and make prisoner the celebrated Longsword, Earl of Salisbury, who com- manded such English troops as were in the battle. After the victory, Philip caused the principal cap- tives to be conducted through Paris in a sort of tri- umph, and in this procession Renaud, Count of Boulogne, and Ferrand, Count of Flanders, were distinguished from the rest by being loaded with irons. The former being brought before Philip, the king upbraided him with his excommunication, (for- getting how lately he himself had been under the censure of the church, for the affair of his divorce.) He also charged him with personal ingratitude, and concluded by sending the captive earl to the castle of Peronne, where he was lodged in a dungeon, and his motions limited by a heavy chain, attached to a block of iron, so weighty that two men could not lift it. Here the unfortunate earl remained a close captive, until he heard that his ally Ferrand, Earl of Flanders, had been restored to freedom, (though under severe conditions,) at the supplication of his wife. On finding that similar clemency was not extended to him, the Count of Boulogne became desperate, and ended his misfortunes by depriving himself of existence. The second part of the plan of the allies, which was to have depended on the exertions of King John of England, proved as inefficient as all others which had been calculated upon the fortune and con- duct of that unlucky prince. John, no doubt, car- ried over an English army to Rochelle, and received the homage of many barons of Poitou and Nor- mandy, who had acceded to the league against Philip. He took Angers, the capital of Anjou, his 256 TRUCE GRANTED TO JOHN*. family fief, but, except wasting and spoiling the country, he did nothing further on his side which could materially favour the great attempt of the confederates. Philip having gained the battle of Bouvines, which might be said to secure the fate of the crown of France, by placing in his power the heads of so formidable a conspiracy, marched instantly into Poitou against John, yet showed no inclination to carry the war to extremity at present ; but, on re- ceiving a present of sixty thousand pounds sterling, j^e granted the King of England a truce for the space of five years. For this moderation, Philip has been censured by French writers, who are of opinion he should have continued the war, until he had subdued Rochelle and the few scattered French towns and forts which still acknowledged the domi- nion of England. But Philip, who was a prince of far-sighted poli- tical views, was aware that, in the battle of Bouvines, he had been obliged to rely too implicitly upon the assistance of his feudal vassals, and might think it imprudent to make them, at this moment, more sen- sible of their o^vn importance, by prosecuting new wars against John, in which their assistance would have been indispensable. A large sum of money being immediately received, he may be supposed to have calculated to have a sufficient number of mer- cenary forces, by help of which, at some convenient period, the wreck of John's French dominions might be gained, without the assistance of his feu- dal militia, and of troops which never could be pro- perly said to be under his own personal command. During this time, a remarkable series of transac- tions took place in France, the review of which I CRUSADES PROFITABLE TO THE POPE. 257 have reserved to this place, that I might not confuse them hi your memory with those which I have been thus recounting. The Popes, bent at once on increasing their finances, and extending their power, had found the utmost advantage in the practice of preaching the crusade, as the indispensable duty of all Christians, while, at the same time, they found it very conve- nient to accept of large sums of money from such princes, nobles, and individuals, as found it more convenient to purchase the privilege of remaining to look after their own affairs, than to assume the cross for distant enterprises. These holy expeditions were originally confined to the recovery of Palestine. But, since their effects were .found in every respect so profitable to the church, it occurred to the Popes that there might be great policy in extending the principles of the holy crusade not only to the extirpation of infidelity and heathenism, in foreign parts, but to that of heresy at home. Accordingly, as head of the Christian church, the Pontiffs assumed the privilege of com- manding all Christian people, under the threat of spiritual censures against those that should disobey, and with a corresponding remuneration to such as rendered spiritual obedience, to rise up in arms, and do execution on such people, or sects, as it had been the pleasure of the church to lay under the ban of excommunication for heretical opinions. It was in the exercise of a privilege so frightful, by which the Popes raised armies wherever they pleased, and employed them as they chose, that the south-west of France was subjected to a horrible war. A numerous party of dissenters from the faith of Rome, men professing, in most respects, thog© 22* 258 CHARACTER OF THE ALBIGENSES. doctrines which are now avowed by the Protestant churches, had gradually extended itself through the south of France, and were particularly numerous in the dominions of Raymond, Earl of Toulouse. The ecclesiastical writers of the period accuse these unfortunate sectaries of professing abominable and infamous license, which they are alleged to have practised even in their public worship ; but there is little reason to doubt that this was mere calumny, and that the Albigeois, or Albigenses, as they were termed, were a set of obscure, but sensible men, whose minds could not be reconciled to the extra- vagant tenets of the Roman Church. They did not exactly agree in doctrine amongst themselves, and probalily numbered among them the obscure descendants of the Paulicians, and other ancient Gothic churches, who had never em- braced the faith of Rome, or yielded to its extrava- gant pretensions of temporal authority. Raymond Count of Toulouse, within whose dominions these poor dissenters found refuge, was a prince of a comprehensive understanding, and, though himself professing no peculiarity of faith, was, nevertheless, willing to grant liberty of conscience to all who lived under his sway, and was well aware what temporal advantages might be derived from a government so professing complete toleration. Against these unfortunate Albigenses, and their protector Raymond, Pope Innocent III., at the in- stigation of Saint Dominic, and other furious inquis- itors of the monastic orders, proclaimed a crusade, enjoining those persons who should embrace so pious a labour, to convert by the sword, those who should fail to lend an ear to the preaching of the monks. A numerous host, great part of which was CRUSADE AGAINST THE ALBIGENSES. .269 levied among the military adventurers and hired mercenaries of the age, and whose character for license and cruelty was scarcely to be matched, was assembled, under the name of the Army of the Church. They were placed under the command of Simon de Montfort, a brave, but cruel leader, and a bigot to the faith of Rome. Under his command these crusaders indulged an indiscriminate thirst for slaughter and plunder amid the peaceful Albigenses, without accurately distinguishing the heretic from the orthodox, under the pretext that they were extir- pating evil and erroneous opinions, and thereby ren- dering acceptable service to God and the Christian Church. Philip of France gave way to proceedings which he dared not oppose. He did not himself embrace the crusade against the Albigenses ; but his soq, Prince Louis, came under the obligation, without his father's knowledge, and against his incHnation. Count Raymond defended himself till after the battle of Bouvines, by which time Simon de Montfort, with his crusaders, had attained such a superiority over the Albigenses, that he rather regarded the engagement of Louis in the crusade as matter of jealousy, than as affording a prospect of support and assistance. In such circumstances. Prince Louis was natu- rally called upon to rejoice, when he was summoned by his father to exchange the fruitless and oppressive persecution against these poor sectaries, for a more honourable warfare, which had for its object the conquest of England, and the utter destruction of King John's power. As King John's misconduct and losses became more and more conspicuous abroad, his tyranny 260 MAGNA CHARTA SIGNED BY JOHN. increased at home, and as his prerogative grew in fkct weaker, he enraged his subjects by attempting to extend its Hmits in the most obnoxious instances. He caused the forest laws, always vexatious, to be executed with more than usual severity, casting down the enclosures of the royal forests, so that the wild deer, and other animals of the chase, might have uncontrolled access to the crops of the hus- bandmen. The barons were equally discontented with the people by his violent and oppressive exac- tions and claims, and took the field against him in such force, as obliged King John to submit to their just demands ; on which occasion, he subscribed, at Runnamede, the celebrated grant of privileges, called Magna Charta, Vvhich the English still ac- count the bulwark of their liberties. As these privileges, however just and equitable in themselves, were extorted most unwillingly from the monarch, the perfidious king took the first opportu- nity to endeavour to recall them. He appealed for this purpose to the Pope, v»'hom he had created his lord paramount ; and the Pontiff', who received his claim of protection most favourably, expressed him- self as highly offended at some of the articles of the Great Charter, and swore he would not suffer a sovereign, who was now an obedient vassal of the church, to be dictated to by his subjects in such a manner. He, therefore, annulled the grant of the Great Charter, as extorted by force, and not long after fulminated excommunications against the allied barons, and all who favoured them. John received still more powerful assistance from a large army of mercenary soldiers, whom he landed at Hover, and with whom he took Rochester. By this reinforce- REBELLION OF THE ENGLISH BARONS. 261 ment, the king obtained a formidable advantage over the barons, who could not always keep their feudal followers under arms, since they had their land to cultivate and their crops to gather in, whereas the mercenaries could be kept prepared for war at all times, and ready to be in the field at a minute's warning. The barons in this emergency adopted the despe- rate alternative of throwing themselves into the hands of the King of France, rather than submit to the tyrant John. Two of their number were des- patched to the court of King Philip, offering to transfer their own allegiance, and the kingdom of England, to his eldest son Louis, on condition of his bringing an army to their assistance. The pre- tence of this interference on the part of France might be, that when the crown vassals were oppressed by their immediate lord, their lord paramount had a right to interfere for their redress. Even that excuse would not have justified in feudal law the substitution of the son in the fief, which, if forfeited at all, was an escheat to the father. But the case of the barons was desperate, and, con- scious of John's revengeful temper, they sought for aid in the only manner in which they saw a chance of obtaining it. Accordingly, the tempting offer of a crown prevailed on Philip and his son, the former in secret, and the latter openly, to accept eagerly the proposal of the barons, and to send an army of seven thousand men to reinforce the insurgent party in England, while Louis himself prepared a stronger expedition. On the 23d of May, Louis arrived before Sandwich, with a gallant navy of six hundred ^^jg* sail, disembarked a corresponding number of 262 EXCOMMUNICATLON OF LOUIS. land forces, marched towards London, and, having taken Rochester in his route, was welcomed with acclamations by the citizens. Here he received the homage of the barons who had invited him to their aid. Hitherto every thing had been in favour of the young Prince of France, and the affairs of John went to ruin on all sides. The legate of the Pope strove in vain to defend him by the fulminations of the church. These were addressed both against Philip and his son Louis ; but as the former mo- narch disavowed in public the proceedings of his son, the effectual excommunication fell only upon Louis himself, who, receiving from his father by underhand means the encouragement and the sup- plies which were openly refused to him, and being, moreover, at the head of a military force, set at de- fiance the consequences of the spiritual censures. Indeed, it may be observed, that, even during this period, (although that in which the Romish church had the greatest influence on the world at large,) the Pope's excommunication was effectual, or other- wise, according to the opinion entertained by the nation in general, of the justice of the sentence. Thus we have seen, that a sentence of the church reduced John to almost total ruin, from which he only saved himself by the most absolute submission, and the transference of his dominions to the Roman see. On the other hand, the curse of Rome did not greatly affect Prince Louis, while the barons of England continued to espouse his cause. And not long subsequent to this time, Robert Bruce of Scot- land, excommunicated as he was for the murder of Comyn, found the spiritual censure no great impe- diment to the recovery of his crown. So that it was SIEGE OF DOVER CASTLE. 263 the force of public opinion, which added much to the effectual weight of the anathema of the church. But the affairs of Louis were deranged by cir- cumstances different from, and independent of, the Pope's sentence of excommunication, although, as the scale turned, that sentence acquired weight which it had not when first pronounced. In the space of the first two months Louis marched suc- cessfully through England, and reduced the whole southern parts of that kingdom to his obedience. But he met a check before the castle of Dover, which was defended with obstinacy and success by Hubert de Burgh, and a select garrison. The most formidable military engine of the French was in vain pointed against the walls of a place strong by nature, and fortified with all the skill of the period. Although success seemed almost impossible, Louis continued the siege with unavailing obstinacy, and the tim.e which he wasted before Dover, gave John leisure once more to collect his forces, and afforded opportunity for dissensions to spring up among the allies of Prince Louis. Windsor Castle was besieged by the prince with the same ill success as Dover. John was once more at the head of a formidable army, and what was still more ominous to the cause of Louis, the English barons began to draw off from his side, on discerning that he treated his countrymen with undue partiality, and afforded little countenance to the lords of England who had joined him. A report was spread, that the discount of Melun had, on his death-bed, confessed a pur- pose on the part of Louis to put to death the barons who had joined his party, as traitors to their natural monarch. Whether the report was founded in truth or not, it was certainly believed, insomuch, that 264 DEATH OF KING JOHN. ^ several nobles of distinction deserted the cause of Louis, and returned to their original allegiance. Many or most others were only withheld from doing the same, from a dread of the false and vin- dictive character of John, when, at this critical period, an event took place which fortunately saved England from the dreadful alternative of a foreign yoke, or a bloody civil war. King John delivered the country from the extremity to which he had re- duced it, by his sudden death, the only thing which could have relieved it. This prince, whose tyranny had occasioned the evils of his kingdom, and the general apprehension of whose perfidy prevented their being removed, died at Newark-upon- Trent, at the yet robust age of forty-nine J^2i6* years, on 19th October, 1216. This opportune event changed the scene, for the revolted barons, already inclined to return to their allegiance, had now to treat with a young prince of the native family of their own kings, instead of a foreigner, whose faith they had some reason to dis- trust, or the tyrant John, whose treachery and cruel- ty were alike to be dreaded. Henry III., the eldest son and successor of John, was only in his tenth year, so that the assistance of a guardian, or protector, was absolutely necessary. The Earl of Pembroke, a wise and brave nobleman, was chosen to this eminent but difficult office. Loyal to the young prince, he was, at the same time, friendly to the hberties of the subject, and his first act was, as a voluntary grant on the part of the crown, to renew the Great Charter of the Liberties which John had granted with so much formality, and afterwards endeavoured to retract. This open and manly measure served as an assurance that, in the DEFEAT OF THE FRENCH. 265 new reign, the regal power was to be administered with due respect to the freedom of the subject ; and in consequence, the EngHsh barons, who could have no cause of personal complaint against the young king, began, upon this favourable prospect, to throng back to his standard, and to desert that of Louis of France. Louis, who had received considerable reinforce- ments from his father, and was naturally reluctant to abandon what was once so hopeful an enterprise, still imprudently persevered in his attempts on Dover Castle, without being able to overcome the resis- tance of Hubert de Burgh. Other indecisive sieges and skirmishes took place, until at length, in the be- ginning of the summer 1217, the French army, under the Earl of Perche, was totally ^^u defeated under the walls of Lincoln, and in the streets of the town. This disaster closed the struggle, and a treaty of peace was concluded be- twixt Louis and the Lord Protector, Pembroke, by which the former honourably stipulated for the in- demnity of such English barons as adhered to his party, and for the freedom, without ransom, of the numerous French prisoners taken at the battle of Lincoln. Under these conditions, Louis resigned his pre- tensions to the crown of England, and engaged to use his intercession with his father for the restora- tion of the fief of Normandy, and others conquered from King John by Philip ; and if his intercession should prove ineffectual, the prince further bound himself to restore these foreign dominions to Eng- land, when he himself should accede to the throne of France. Prince Louis accordingly withdrew to France with all his forces, leaving the young prince VOL. I. 23 266 LOUIS AVITHDRAWS FROM ENGLAND. Henry, peacefully seated upon the throne. Thus terminated an important crisis, which threatened in the commencement to make England a province of France, as a fair and fertile part of France had, in the time of the kings succeeding the Conquest, been fiefs of England, until taken from John, who ac- quired from his loss of territory the dishonourable title of Lack-land, or landless. Louis, the Prince of France, having left one field of strife in England, found in his own country another, which was almost equally unsuccessful. This was the renewed war against the unfortunate heretics in the south of France, called the Albigen^ ses. These unhappy people had been treated with much oppression and cruelty by Simon de Montfort^ who came against them at the head of the dissolute and disorderly bands who were called crusaders, conquered them, and had been created their earl, or count. But he continued to persecute the heretics with such unrelenting severity, and so oppressed them, that, being able to endure their sufferings no longer, they rushed to arms, restored their old Count Raymond to the government of his fief, and became again formidable. Simon de Montfort hastened once more to form the siege of Toulouse ; but the cause of the oppressed was victorious, and this cruel and tyrannical leader fell before the city, while his wife and family remained the prisoners of the Albi- genses. The Pope, alarmed at the success of. these heretics, as he termed them, became urgent with King Philip to be active against them, while an assembly of the church, held at Mantes, again determined on preaching the crusade against the Albigenses. Philip, although he himself had gone ClltJSAftE AGAINST THE ALBIGENSES. 26T to Palestine, in his memorable crusade with King Richard, was by no means a favourer of these im- politic expeditions. On the other hand, he dared not refuse the request of the Pope and clergy, and reluctantly permitted his son Louis, with an army of fifteen thousand men, again to take the cross against the heretics in the south of France. But the prince prosecuted the war with so much coldness, that it was supposed Louis was either indifferent in the cause himself, 6r had private instructions from his father not to conduct it with activity. At length he was recalled from the enterprise entirely, by his father's command. The pretext was, the necessity of the prince's attendance on a grand council, to be held at Mantes, for considering an offer made by Amaury, son of Simon de Montfort. This young man, the heir of the title which his fe-ther had acquired over Toulouse by his first con- quest, thought he perceived the reason why France was so cold in recovering these possessions. He therefore proposed to cede to the crown of France his own right to the earldom, that Philip and his son might have a deep personal interest in carrying on the war with vigour. This would probably have given more activity to the movements of Philip Augustus against the Albigenses. But he did not survive to accept of the cession offered by De Montfort, as he died of a fever at Mantes, in ^ ^ July, 1223. 1223.* He was incomparably the greatest prince that had held the French throne since the days of Charle- magne. At his death, he left the proper dominions of France nearly doubled in extent, by his valour and prudence, and greatly improved in wealth, strength, and convenience, by the formation of roads, 268 DISPUTES BETWEEN HENRY AND LOUIS. the fortification of defenceless towns, the creation of public works, and other national improvements, arising from his wise administration. He was in general successful in his military exploits, as much owing to the sagacity with which he planned, as to the bravery with which he executed them. The battle of Bouvines, in particular, was one of those decisive contests upon which the fate of nations depends ; and had Philip been defeated, it is certain that France would have been divided by Otho and the confederates, and doubtful, to say the least, whether it could have been again united into one single kingdom of the first rank. CHAPTER Xm. Philip Augustus was succeeded in his throne by his eldest son, Louis VHI., whose unsuccessful wars in England we have already noticed. He was called by the surname of the Lion, from his personal courage, doubtless, rather than from his success in arms, of which last he had not much to boast. He had scarcely assumed the throne, when he was greeted by an ambassador from Henry HI., demanding the restoration of the provinces which the English monarch's ancestors had held in France, in terms of the treaty made and sworn to when he left England in 1217. Louis was, how- ever, determined on no account to comply with this article, the fulfilment of which would have occasion- ed the revival of the EngUsh power in France, WAR AGAINST THE ENGLISH. 269 which had been so serious a subject of annoyance and apprehension to his predecessors. In vindica- tion of the breach of his oath, he alleged that the Eng- lish, on their part, had not fulfilled the treaty of 1217, that some of the English barons of his party had met with usage contrary to the promise of indemnity pledged in their behalf, and that some French pri- soners, made at the battle of Lincoln, instead of being set at liberty in terms of the compact, had been compelled to ransom themselves. Taking upon him, therefore, the character of one who had sustained and not inflicted a wrong, King Louis, instead of restoring Normandy, proceeded, in imitation of his father's policy, to invade and be- siege those towns which the English still possessed in Poitou ; and Niort, Saint Jean d'Angeli, and finally Rochelle itself, fell into his hands, after a valiant defence. Bourdeaux, and the country beyond the Garonne, was the only part of the ample dominions within France, once acknowledging the English authority, which still remained subject to that power. This territory would probably have followed the fate of the other forfeited or reconquer- ed fiefs ; but Henry IIL , now a young man, sent an expedition, commanded by his brother Richard, Earl of Cornwall, and consisting of a considerable num- ber of troops, to its relief. At the same time he created Richard Count of Poitou. The Gascons were favourable to the English, with whom they maintained a profitable traffic. They were also flattered by the proposal to place them immediately under the command of a prince of the English blood royal, and prepared to resist the invasion of Louis so obstinately, that the King a- d. of France thought it judicious to consent to a * 23* 270 CRUSADE AGAINST THE ALBIGENSES. truce for three years. He had indeed still upon his hands the civil war with the Albigenses ; and though he has been blamed for granting the English a truce, it may be supposed he acted wisely in undertaking only one of these formidable enter- prises at a time. He was urged to renew the crusade against the southern heretics, by the legate of the Pope, but in consenting to do so, failed not to secure such per- sonal interest in the adventure, as might ensure to himself the principal advantage of its success. For this purpose, Louis renewed the treaty which his father had commenced with Amaury de Montfort, and promising to that count the post of High Con- stable of France, when a vacancy should occur, he accepted from him the cession of all rights he in- herited from his father, the Count of Toulouse. Having thus provided for his own interest in the undertaking, the kmg assembled an army of fifty thousand men, consisting of the best and boldest of his vassals, at the head of their followers. With this large force he first besieged Avignon, where the citi- zens were at first disposed to open their gates, but refused to receive any person within them, except the king with his ordinary train. But unlimited access was demanded, and the townsmen, afraid too justly of pillage and massacre, shut their gates, and stood on their defence. They fought with the utmost obstinacy, and the besiegers lost above two thou- sand men, amongst whom was that celebrated Comte de Saint Paul, who had acquired so much honour at the battle of Bouvines. At length the citizens of Avignon were compelled to Submit to a capitulation, the terms of which were uncommonly severe. The establishment of the DEATH OF LOUIS THE LION. 271 Roman Catholic religion was exclusively provided for ; and two hundred hostages were given to that effect, sons of the most wealthy inhabitants. Some of those who had conducted the defence were hang- ed, or otherwise punished ; the fortifications were dismantled ; the ditches filled up ; and three hun- dred of the best houses were levelled with the ground, to complete the humiliation of the city. After Avignon had surrendered, it was the object of Louis to march against Toulouse, and inflict a similar vengeance on that town, the metropolis of the revolted provinces. But his army had suffered so severely from want of provisions, from the sword, and from pestilential disease, that the king was com- pelled to grant them some relaxation from military duty, which they were not at the time capable of discharo;ino-. But Louis had himself performed before Avignon his last campaign. On retiring to Monpensier, he was seized with a fever, of which he died, 12th 1226. November, having reigned only four years, and being in the very prime of his manhood. He was succeeded by his only son, who bore his own name, and was afterwards distinguished in the royal catalogue by the title of Saint Louis. The epithet of Saint, in those superstitious times, inferred at least as much weakness as virtue ; and we shall see that Louis, while he was an honour to the cha- racter in the higher virtues, was not without the im- perfections usually attending a reputation for sanc- tity, comprehending, of course, much devotion to the Pope, and great liberality to the church. The Queen Blanche, relict of the deceased ilfion- arch, acted as regent for her son. She was eldest daughter of Alphonso, King of Castile, by his wife 272 CONSPIRACY OF THE CROWN VASSALS. Eleanor, daughter of that celebrated Eleanor of Aquitaine, by her second marriage with Henry 11. of England. The character of Blanche, during the life of her husbaod, had not been called forth to any remarkable display; but Louis YIII., who had great confidence in her wisdom, had named her in his set- tlement the regent of France, until his son should attain the years of majority. She had, therefore, an arduous duty to discharge, especially as very many of the crown vassals of the highest rank, dissatisfied with the power attained by the king during the last two reigns, had formed a league together, upon the principle of that which was adopted by the confede- rates, previous to the battle of Bouvines, and the purpose of which, Philip's victory in that battle had for the time disconcerted. The opportune occurrence of a minority, during which the crown's authority was to be administered by a female, and a foreigner, seemed, to various of the petty princes, who were ambitious of rivalling the king in all but the name, a time highly fitted for recovering by force, if necessary, that degree of in- dependence of which they had been deprived by the policy and success of Philip Augustus and his short- lived son, Louis the Lion. The still existing insur- rection of the Albigenses was a great encourage- ment to the confederates, and Raymond of Toulouse was one of the most zealous of their number. He was one who could be easily justified ; for, while the others became rebels and conspirators, for ob- jects of personal power and ambition, to which they had a very doubtful claim, Raymond was a prince unjustly deprived of his territories, which he was naturally desirous to recover. The other nobles engaged in the conspiracy AJ>DIt£SS OP aUEEN BLANCHE. 273 against the queen regent were, Philip, Count of Boulogne, the brother of the late king, who claimed the regency as of right appertaining to him by de- scent ; the powerful Earls or Counts Thibault, of Champagne, Hugh de la Marche, Hugh de Saint Paul, Simon de Ponthieu ; there was, besides, Peter, Duke of Bretagne ; all princes of the first rank for wealth and power, which it was their object to hold with no greater degree of dependence on the crown of France, than they might find indispensable. In fact, it was their object to deprive the king of all power, beyond what might become a president of the cour pleniere, and general of the armies of the kingdom. Alone, or nearly so, a stranger and a woman, oppo- sed to so many powerful nobles, Blanche conducted herself with great courage and ability. Ere the con- federates had matured their plan of hostilities, she suddenly attacked Raymond of Toulouse, reduced him to ask terms by which he became bound to renounce the heretical opinions of the Albigenses, and to give his daughter and heiress in marriage to Alphonso, her own fourth son by the late king, and thus secured the final reversion of these rich terri- tories to the royal family. The next part of her undertaking was the sub- jugation of the confederates, who laid aside the mask, and began to show their real purpose ; and here her female power, extreme beauty and corres- ponding address, were of the greatest service. Thi- bault, Count of Champagne, a prince of great pos- sessions, was renowned alike as a good knight, and as an excellent troubadour, or poet, in which capa- city he had even during the life of her husband, Louis Vni., selected as the theme of his praise, and 274 Blanche's influence over the sovereign mistress of his affections, no other than Blanche herself. The adoration of a poet, in those times, had in it nothing that was necessarily hurtful to a lady's reputation : nevertheless, it was said the queen had expressed resentment at the liberty which the Count of Champagne had taken in fixing his affections so high, and in making his ad- miration so public. It is even surmised, that the severity with which the queen treated the enamoured poet, was so highly resented by him, that his mortification was the cause of his joining the confederates. But a woman of address and beauty knows well how to recover the affections of an offended lover ; and if her admirer should be of a romantic and poetical temperament, he is still more easily recalled to his allegiance. It cost the queen but artfully throwing out a hint, that she would be pleased to see Thibault at court ; and the faithful lover was at her feet, and at her command. On two important occasions, the enamoured troubadour disconcerted the plans of his ■political confederates, like a faithful knight, in obe- dience to the commands of the lady of his affections. Upon one of these occasions, Count Thibault gave private intimation of a project of the male- contents to seize the person of the queen, on a jour- ney from Orleans to Paris. Their purpose, being once known, was easily defeated, by the queen- mother throwing herself and her son into a strong fortress, till a suitable escort was collected to ensure their passage in safety to the capital. On another occasion, the king having called an assembly of his nobles to oppose Peter of Bretagne, who had ap- peared in open arms, the conspiring nobles agreed to bring each to the rendezvous a party of follow- THE COUNT OF CHAMPAGNE, 275 ers, in apparent obedience to the royal command, which, though it should seem but moderate, in regard to each individual prince's retinue, should, when united, form a preponderating force. But this stra- tagem was also disconcerted by the troubadour Earl of Champagne, who, to please his royal mistress, brought a stronger attendance than all the others put together, so that, as none of the other great vassals dared to take the part of Peter of Bretagne, he was obliged to submit to the royal authority. The Count of Champagne had like to have dearly bought his compliance with the pleasure of his lady- love, instead of pursuing the line of politics of the confederates. He was attacked by the whole con- federacy, who, enraged at his tergiversation, agreed to expel him from his country, and confer Cham- pagne upon the Queen of Cyprus, who had some claim to it as heiress of Thibault's elder brother. Blanche was so far grateful to her devoted lover, that she caused her son to march to his succour, and repel the attack on his territories. Yet she sought to gain something for the crown, by this act of kindness, and therefore intimated to the count, that, to defray the expenses of the war, and compensate the claims of his niece, it would be expedient that he should sell to the young king his territories of Blois, Chartres, Cnateaudun, and San- sevre. The count murmured forth some remon- strances, in being required to part with so valuable a portion of his estates. But so soon as Blanche, with a displeased look, reproached him with his dis- obedience and ingratitude, he fetched a deep sigh, as he replied, " By my faith, madam, my heart, my body, my life, my land, are all at your absolute dis- 276 THE CONSPIRACY AMONG THE NOBLES posal !" The crown of France acquired the terri- tory accordingly. It does not appear that the devotions of this infatuated lover were offensive to Queen Blanche herself, who, as a woman, might be proud of her absolute influence over a man of talents, and, as a politician, might judge it desirable to preserve that influence over a powerful nobleman, when it was maintained at the cheap price of an obliging word, or glance. But some of the French courtiers grew impatient of the absurd pretensions of Thibault to the queen's favour. They instigated Robert of Artois, one of the sons of Louis VIII., who was little beyond childhood, to put an affront upon the Count of Champagne, by throwing a soft crearn- cheese in his face. Enthusiasm of every kind is peculiarly sensible to ridicule. Thibault became aware that he was? laughed at, and as the rank and youth of the culprit prevented the prince being the subject of revenge, the Count of Champagne retired from the court for ever, and in his feudal dominions endeavoured to find consolation in the favour of the muses, for the rigour, and perhaps the duplicity, of his royal mis- tress. This troubadour monarch afterwards became King of Navarre, and his extravagant devotion to beauty and poetry did not prevent his being held, in those days, a sagacious as well as accomplished sovereign. Other intrigues the queen-mother was able to dis- concert, by timely largesses bestowed upon the needy among the conspirators, while some she sub- dued by force of arms. In the latter case, she com- mitted the conduct of the royal forces to Ferrand,. Earl of Flanders, the same who was taken prisoner SUPPRESSED BY THE QUEEN REGENT. 277 at the battle of Bouvines, who conducted himself with all the fidelity and intelligence she could have desired. And, in short, by patience, courage, poli- cy, and well-used opportunity. Queen Blanche not only preserved that degree of authority which was attached to the throne when she was called to the administration of affairs, but consolidated and aug- mented it considerably. It may be that the wars and intrigues of the Queen of France would have ended less fortunately, if the weight of England had been thrown into the opposite scale ; and you may wonder that this was not the case, since no time could have occurred more suitable than the minority of Saint Louis, for the recovery of those French territories which the skill and conduct of Philip Augustus won from the imbecility of his contemporary, King John. In- deed, at the accession of Louis YIIL, when the period was less favourable, Henry III., or his coun- sellors, had, as we observed, made a formal demand that Normandy, and the other provinces claimed by England, should be restored. But although many of the barons of the provinces once attached to England offered their assistance eagerly ; although the possession of Bourdeaux ren- dered a descent easy ; although the Duke of Bre- tagne, whom we have mentioned as a chief of the league against the crown of France, endeavoured to urge the court of England to an invasion, which he pledged himself to support with his utmost force ; yet the character of Henry III. of England v/as totally unfit for such an undertaking. He had some of his father John's faults, being, though less cruel than he, fully as timid in his person, and as rash in his attempts. He was extravagantly expensive, and VOL. I. 24 278 henry's invasion of France. notoriously faithless ; an encroacher upon the rights of his subjects, and repeatedly guilty of the breach of his n)(tst solemn promises and engagements to them. Henry was also, like his father, an indolent and wretched conductor of an undertaking requiring activity and resolution. In 1229, Henry did indeed attempt his long- 1229 threatened invasion of France ; but with so little precaution, that, when his army was as- eembled, it was found there had been no care taken to provide an adequate number of vessels. They passed to St. Maloes, however, and were joined by the Duke of Bretagne, with all his forces ; but in- stead of leading the army to action, Henry spent the money which had been provided for their support in mere lavish and expensive follies, and returned to England after three or four months' idle and useless stay in France, almost without having broken a lance in the cause which had induced him to leave his kingdom. On returning to England, this impru- dent prince became engaged in those intestine divi- sions with his people which were called the Barons* Wars, and which left him no time, if he had had inclination, to trouble himself about the affairs of France. Meantime, the Duke of Bretagne, deserted by his ally, was hard pressed by the royal forces, and demanded a respite only till he should make appli- cation to Henry for relief. On receiving a refusal, the unfortunate duke saw himself obliged to present himself before his sovereign, the King of France, with a halter around his neck, and solicit mercy in the most humiliating terms. The disgrace of this pageant lay with the English king, whose neglect to support his ally had rendered this scene of abject Blanche's ascendancy over st. louis. 279 submission the only road to safety which the desert- ed prince could pursue. England being thus occupied with her internal quarrels, the Queen-mother Blanche met with no interruption from that quarter, while she extended the power of her son over the discontented vassals whose object it had been to restrict it. But with her grandmother Eleanor of Aquitaine's mascuhne energies of disposition, Blanche possessed no small share of her ambition. She was in no hurry to surrender to her son the supreme power which she had administered so well ; nor did the dutiful Louis, though now approaching his twenty-first year, seem impatient to take upon himself the character of go- vernor. On the contrary, although he assumed the name of sovereign, yet he continued to yield to the queen-mother, at least in a great measure, the actual power of administration. It was said, that this deference to maternal autho- rity, more implicit than was becoming for him to yield, or his mother to exact, arose from his having been educated more like a monk, to whom strict obedience is one great duty enjoined, that like a sovereign, v/ho was not only to think for himself, but to decide upon the actions of others. Signs of this monastic education were to be seen in the bigot- ed attachment with which the future saint regarded every thing either really religious, or affecting to be so ; and the narrowness of his mode of thinking in this respect led to the principal misfortunes of his reign. It is possible, however, that committing his education almost entirely to churchmen, might be a measure adopted as much from the queen-mother's own superstitious feeUngs, as from a desire to keep her son in the back ground. 280 Blanche's jealousy. Blanche's jealousy of those of her own sex who approached her son, and sought to please hira, was not, perhaps^ an extraordinary, though an inconve- nient excess of maternal fondness. But she was singularly unreasonable in extending her jealousy to her son's wife, a beautiful woman, Margaret, one of the daughters of Raymond Berenger, Count of Pro- vence. The servants of the household had orders, when the king and queen were in private together, to whip the dogs which were about the royal apart- ment, so that the cries of the animals might give the queen-mother a hint to burst in on the retirement and privacy of her son and his wife. The young queen reproached her mother-in-law with this jea- lous vigilance ; and when Blanche caused Louis to remove from the apartment in which his wife was about to be confined, " You will not let me speak with my husband," said Margaret, " whether living or dying." The docility of the son, in a case where he had a reasonable excuse for resistance, seems to have been carried to an amiable excess. Yet, it is cer- tain, that, whether her conduct in this particular arose out of policy or mistaken fondness, the love of Blanche for her son was equally sincere and mater- nal. In the bias, however, which his mind had taken towards a strict interpretation of his duties in morality and religion, tinged as the latter was with the superstition of his age, it was plain that the first impulse which Louis might consider as a direction from heaven, would induce him to fall into the pre- vailing error of the time, by assuming the cross, and departing for the Holy Land. Accordingly a sudden illness, in which he remain- ed insensible for the space of twenty-four hours LOUIS ASSUMES THE CROSS. 281 struck the young king with such alarm, that he took the cross from the hands of the Archbishop of Paris, and made a solemn vow to march in person against the infidels with a royal army. It was in vain that the wisest of his ministers pointed out to Louis the disasters which his predecessors had sustained by- such imprudent and ill-fated engagements. Even his mother, though his departure must restore her to full power as regent, in name as well as authority, dis- suaded her son from this fatal enterprise. In reply, the king maintained, that as he had con- tinued to recover hourly since his vow was taken, the purport of it must of course have been agreeable to the divine will ; and he would only promise that he would endeavour to arrange the preparations for his enterprise, at full leisure, and with as much pre- caution as should secure its success, and the safety of his dominions during his absence. He obtained from the church a grant of the tenth of their revenues, to sustain the expense of his undertaking. Gradu- ally, too, he prevailed upon many of the nobihty, and among these the Count of Marche and the Duke of Bertagne, two of the most powerful and turbulent of their number, to follow his example, and accom- pany him to the East. The motions of the future saint were arrested during his preparations, by the arrival at his court of Richard, King of the Romans, brother of Henry III. of England, with an embassy from that power. " Sir King of France," said this distinguished envoy, " you cannot undertake to wage a holy war against the infidels, until you do justice to your brother of ]*>ngland, bereft as he has been by your father of the provinces belonging to him in France." The King of France was so much startled at this 24* 282 CAPTURE OF DAMIETTA. objection to his purpose, that he referred the case, as a scruple of conscience, to a conclave of Norman bishops ; and it was not till they formally gave their opinion that no restitution should be made, that Louis declined the request of the King of the Ro- mans. King Louis now prepared for his crusade, and departed, carrying with him his young wife, although the instance of Philip le Jeune was a bad example to recommend such a policy. Robert and Charles, his two brothers, also accompanied the king in his adventurous expedition. Passing down the Rhone from Lyons, he embarked from the shores of the Mediterranean, and landed at Cyprus ou the 25th September, 1274. It was his purpose to ^274] proceed from thence in the spring, in order to invade the kingdom of Egypt ; for experience had made it obvious, that, although Palestine might be conquered for a season, it could never be effectually protected or defended, as an independent Christian state, until the infidels should be deprived of the populous and rich kingdom of Egypt, which lay so near the Holy Land. The number of his army amounted to about fifty thousand men, of which it was computed there were ten thousand cavalry ; and they disembarked in safety, as they had proposed, before the town of Damietta. Here Louis, who, with all his superstition, dis- played a great fund of personal worth and bravery, sprung into the sea in complete armour, waded ashore among the foremost, with the Oriflamme dis- played, and made good his landing in spite of twenty thousand men, by whom the shore and city of Da- mietta were defended. The invaders seized upon, and garrisoned the city, which was opulent, exten- CAPTURE OF DAMIETTA. 283 sive, and well fortified. Louis, with wise precau- tion, took into his custody the magazines which they had acquired in the storm which followed the cap- ture ; but the subordinate leaders of the crusade were dissatisfied, contending that, on such occasions, the share of the commander-in-chief was limited to one-third of the spoil, and that the rest belonged to his associates. This introduced dissatisfaction and insubordination among the feudal lords, and greatly affected Louis' authority. Want of discipline being thus introduced, it was speedily perceived that the army of Saint Louis was not of better morals than those of other crusaders, and the utmost licentiousness was practised, under the countenance of some of the courtiers, within a stone's cast of the king's own paviHon. In the mean- time, the crusaders remained in Damietta, waiting, first for the abatement of the inundation of the Nile, and thereafter for the arrival of Alphonso, Count of Poitiers, who had been separated from his bro- ther by stress of weather, or, as others say, had been later than Louis in setting out from France. This prince arrived at length ; and Louis resolved to sally from the city, for the purpose of marching to Grand Cairo, which the invaders termed Babylon. But the river Nile, which the Christians believed to come from the terrestrial Paradise, was at that time still in flood, and interrupted their march on every side. One broad canal, in particular, opposed their passage. As they had neither boats nor bridges, the crusaders attempted to cross the canal by means of a mound — an awkward contrivance, in which they totally failed. While engaged in this fruitless labour, the Chris- tians were opposed at every turn by the light-armed 284 DEATH OF THE COUNT OF ARTOIS. Saracens, who attached the military engines by which they endeavoured to cover their passage, with balls of Greek fire, a species of inflammable matter shot from the artillery then in use, extremely difficult to quench, and which flew through the air, resembling in appearance a fiery dragon. Saint Louis himself seems rather to have sought refuge in his- tears and devotions, than in attempting to stop the conflagration. The crusaders were obliged to renew the engines which had been destroyed, with such part of the ships as could be dismantled for that purpose. The Count of Artois, with impru- dent valour, found at length the means of passing the canal at a dangerous ford ; and, instead of halt- ing till he was supported, rushed on with two thou- sand horse, and forced his way into the village of Massoura, where the Saracens gave themselves up for lost. But their troops being raUied by a valiant soldier, who was afterwards raised to the rank of sove- reignty, the advanced party of the Count of Artois were enclosed within the village. The inhabitants poured on them stones, javelins, arrows, scalding water, and all sorts of missiles, from the roofs of the houses, which were flat, and well adapted to this species of defence. Most of the Christians were slain ; and the Count of Artois, after having for some time defended himself in one of the houses of the village, at length fell lighting valiantly. The king, to whom his brother's death was re- ported, wept bitterly for the loss he had sustained ; and was much grieved when he heard that the chief of the Saracens displayed the coat of armour of the fallen prince, as if it had been that of the king him- self. Although the French had the worst in this CARNAGE IN THE FIELD OF BATTLE. 285 unequal and confused battle, their chivalry main- tained the reputation which it had in Europe. Louis, surrounded by several Saracens, defended himself against them all ; and when six of the principal Mamelukes took shelter behind a heap of stones, from the shot of the French cross-bows, to which they replied with arrows and Greek fire, a stout priest called John de Waysy, clad in his cuirass and head-piece, and armed with his two-handed sword, rushed on them so suddenly, that, astonished at his resolution, they dispersed themselves and fled. But notwithstanding these, and many other feats of arms highly honourable to the crusaders, the losses of the Saracens were easily replaced ; whereas every sol- dier that fell on the part of the French, was an irre- parable loss. A subsequent action, in which the Greek fire was showered upon the Christians, so that it covered even Louis' own horse, and burnt whatever was opposed to it, both men and military engines, com- pleted the disasters of this unfortunate army. The invaders were now reduced to a defensive warfare ; and this was sustained at the greatest disadvantage. A dreary duty remained, after these battles were over. The king, says his historian Joinville, hired a hundred labourers to separate the bodies of the Christians from those of the pagans ; the former were interred ; the Saracens were thrust under the bridge, and floated down to the sea. " God knows," says the gallant knight, " how noisome was the smell, and how miserable it was to see the bodies of such noble and worthy persons lie exposed. I witnessed the chamberlain of the late Count of Artois seeking the body of his master, and many more bunting after tiiose of their friends ; but 286 RETREAT OF THE FRENCH ARMV. none who were exposed to the infectious smell, while engaged in this office, ever recovered their health. Fatal diseases in consequence broke out in the army ; their limbs were dried up and destroyed, and almost all were seized with a complaint in the mouth, from which many never recovered." The scurvy, which is intimated by this last disease, made fright- ful ravages Among the crusaders, a part of whom were now cooped up in Damietta, or under its walls. The Saracens dragged their armed galleys across the land, and launched them in the Nile, beneath the city, which was thus blockaded by land and water. Provisions were extremely scarce, and the eels of the river, which fed upon the numberless dead bodies, became the principal subsistence of the French army, and increased the pestilential disease. The condition of the Christians became now so desperate, that Louis resolved to retreat to Da- mietta, and call in all the outposts and vanguard of his army, which were on their march to Cairo. The king himself might have made his retreat in safety by water ; but it was no part of his plan to desert his army. He himself quitted his own battalion, and, with Sir Geoffiey de Sergines, joined the rear divi- sion, thus continuing his countermarch as far as the town of Casel. In the latter part of his retreat, the Turks came so close upon him, that Sir Geoffrey was obliged to drive them off with strokes of the blade and point of his sword ; at length, the unfortunate prince was reduced to such a state, that he was obliged to lie down with his head in the lap of a fe- male, who had come from Paris ; he expected every moment to die in that posture. Walter de Chatillon, with the constancy of a gal- lant knight, planted himself alone at the door of the LOUIS AND HIS ARMY TAKEN CAPTIVE. 287 house in which the king lay, attacked every infidel who passed, and put them repeatedly to flight. The king, who saw him rush to the attack alone, bran- dishing his sword, and rising in his stirrups, exclaim- ed, in his hour of distress, " Ha, Chatillon ! gallant knight, where are all our good companions ?" The faithful knight was at length overpowered by num- bers, and his fate made known by the condition of his horse, which was seen covered with blood in the possession of a Saracen, who claimed the merit of having slain its gallant master. In the meantime, most of those who had fled, rather than retreated, towards Damietta, had already been slaughtered by the Saracens, or had delivered themselves up to captivity. Scarcely even the de- plorable catastrophe of Louis le Jeune was more unfortunate in its consequences, than the termina- tion of the last crusade but one, prepared for with so much care, and ending with so much wretchedness. The king, his remaining brother, many princes of the blood royal and high noblesse, and the wreck of his noble army, fell as captives into the hands of the infidels, and were treated with the most atrocious severity. Upon the first surrender of the prisoners, the only choice assigned them was that of embracing the Moslem faith, or submitting to instant death ; and by far the greater part adopted the choice of martyr- dom. When, however, it began to be discovered that most of the prisoners had the means of paying a high ransom, the barbarians, into whose hands they fell, became more desirous of lucre than of bloodshed, and exchanged for ransom most of those who were able to comply with their demands. The Sultan of Egypt began also to reflect that Damietta 288 MERCENARIES IN THE was Still garrisoned by the Christians, and might safely apprehend their retaining it, till succours should come from Europe. These considerations made him desirous of an accomodation, by which he should rid Egypt of its troublesome visitors. But the nature of the government to which that country was now subjected, rendered the fate of the prisoners extremely uncertain, and precarious ; but to enable you to understand the circumstances in which they were placed, it is necessary to explain what the nature of that government was. Touran Shah, the reigning sultan of Egypt, was a great-grandson of the brother of the famous Saladin, whom we have seen the opponent of Richard Coeur de Lion ; but the followers of these sultans had been rendered effeminate by the pleasures of a rich coun- try, and were no longer capable of engaging in bat- tle, or attaining victory over such rugged opponents, as King Louis and his Franks. To supply this general deficiency of courage and spirit in their sol- diers, the preceding Sultans of Egypt had been ac- customed to levy chosen troops from the numerous bands of slaves, which they bought on the verge of Tartary, or in other foreign countries. These, chief- ly Georgians, Circassians, and the like, were select- ed while children, for their form and strength, care- fully educated in martial exercises, and taught to understand from early years that their distinctions in life must depend upon the undaunted use which they should learn to make of their spears and scimi- tars. They were allowed high pay and great privi- leges, and those who distinguished themselves were raised to the rank of officers over the others. From these chosen troops the sultan selected his viziers, generals, lieutenants, and governors. SERVICE OF THE SULTAN. 239 As has been always found the case in similar instances, this body of mercenary soldiers became dangerous even to the prince in whose service they were enrolled, and frequently assumed the right of disposing of the crown, which they were engaged to defend, as well as the life of him that wore it. It was they who, with such determined valour, had interrupted the advance, and followed up the retreat, of the valiant Franks ; and, filled with a high idea of their own prowess, and a contempt of the native troops of the country, they thought that Touran Shah was not sufficiently grateful to them for the victory which he had obtained by their support, or that he manifested some intention of laying them aside for a more docile soldiery. Of this unfortunate sultan we know little ; but he appears neither to have been destitute of the bravery nor the generosity which became a successor of Saladin. The valiant Sieur de Joinville saw him in the front of battle, taller by the shoulders than those around him, and wielding with courage the German sword which he bore in his hand. Hia gilded helmet was placed proudly on his head ; " and I never," says the historian, " saw a more gallant man under arms." Nor was his conduct less princely than his appearance. At first, indeed, the French in their captivity were threatened with a terrific death by torture, unless they would renounce the Christian faith to ensure their personal safety. Such a proposal, under such tremendous threats, was made to the king himself. But when Saint Louis showed by his firmness that he held such menaces in scorn, the Saracen prince sent a mes- sage in a milder tone, demanding to know what ransom the captive monarch was willing to pay, io VOL. I. 25 290 NEGOTIATIONS FOR RANSOM addition to the surrender of Damietta, which was stipulated as one indispensable condition of his freedom. The King of France rephod, that if a reasonable ransom was demanded, he would write to the queen, who was still enclosed within the walls of Damietta, to pay it for him and for his army. The Saracens, whose manners permitted of no admission of wo- men to their councils, asked with surprise to what purpose the queen should be consulted in such an affair. " Have I not reason 1" answered the simple- mannered and gallant-hearted Louis ; " is she not my wife and my companion]" A second message informed the captive monarch that his ransom was fixed by the sultan at a million of golden bezants — equul, says Joinville, to five hundred thousand livres. At once, and without attempting farther to chaffer upon the bargain, " I will cheerfully give," said Louis, " five hundred thousand livres for ransom of my army ; and for my own I will surrender the town of Damietta to the sultan ; for my rank is too high to be valued in money." The sultan was seized with a generous emulation. " He is a right gene- rous Frank," said Touran Shah, " who does not cheapen our first offer like a merchant or pedler ; tell him I abate my demand in one-fifth, and that four himdred thousand livres shall be a most suffi- cient ransom." He also sent garments for the king's use, and seemed disposed to part with him upon liberal terms. But while Touran Shah was disposing of the fate of another, he little knew how near he approached to his own. The discontent of his body-guard of slaves, then called Haleuca, and the same which are MURDER OF THE SULTAN. 2f)l now distinguished by the well known name of Ma- melukes, had risen to the highest. They broke out into insurrection, attacked the unfortunate Touran Shah, set fire to his pavilion, and cut that unfortu- nate prince to pieces. Having committed this murder, they came before the king and the French captives, with their bloody battle-axes and sabres in their hands. " What will you give me," said the foremost assassin, who was yet streaming with the blood of Touran Shah, " who have slain the enemy that sought thy life?' To this Saint Louis returned no answer. The French knights confessed themselves to each other, expecting to be immediately massacred. Yet in the very flushed moment of their king's murder, and while seeming still greedy of more blood, the con- spirators felt restraint from the dignified demeanour of their disarmed prisoner. They also remembered that Damietta still held a Christian garrison, which might give them trouble. Under such impressions, they showed indeed a disposition sufficiently mis- chievous, yet they entered into new conditions, somewhat similar to those that had been prescribed by the murdered Touran Shah, but stipulating that the king should take an oath, binding him to re- nounce his baptism and his faith, with the inesti- mable privileges purchased by them, in case he did not comply with all the articles of the treaty. Louis constantly and magnanimously answered, " he would rather die a good Christian, than live by taking the impious and sinful oath which they would force upon him." The Patriarch of Jerusalem, who was present at the moment, was immediately seized by the soldiers, and tied to a post, so tightly, that the blood sprung from his hands, while the old man 292 RANSOM OF LOUIS AGREED TO. in agony called upon the king to swear boldly what- ever the infidels chose, since he w oiild take the sin upon his own soul, rather than endure this horrid torture. But whether the oath was taken or not, Joinville declares he cannot tell. In the meantime the scene suddenly changed, as was not unnatural among such fickle and barbarous men. A mirthful sound of trumpets and kettle- drums was heard before the tent, and King Louis was presented with an invitation from the chiefs of the late conspiracy, to become their sultan and sove- reign, in room of the murdered Touran Shah. That such a proposal should be started, among other v\^ild plans, by men in the condition of the Mamelukes, slaves, strangers, and foreigners, indifferent to the Mahometan religion, and impressed by the undaunt- ed bravery of their royal captive, was not perhaps so unnatural as if it had been made elsewhere, or by others. But it does not seem to have been generally embraced, or seriously insisted on. On the con- trary, some of the leading emirs were of opinion, that, to atone for the treasonable slaughter of Tou- ran Shah, a good Mahometan, by their hands, it was their duty to put to death Saint Louis and his fol- lowers, the mortal enemies of Mahomet and his religion. At length, however, the proposition for mercy prevailed, and a treaty for ransom was carried into execution. While these strange negotiations, if indeed they can be called such, were proceeding in this wild and uncertain manner, Joinville informs us of other cir- cumstances respecting the Queen of France, who, as I before informed you, having accompanied her husband in this calamitous expedition, was enclosed with the remnant of the crusaders that held out DISTRESS OP THE ^UEEN. 293 Damietta. She was at that time with child ; a cir- cumstance adding much to the distress of her situa- tion, during her husband's captivity, aggravated by the probability that she herself might fall into the hands of the victorious infidels. Her period of confinement was now close approaching. " Three days before she was brought to bed," says the faithful chronicler of the expedition, " she was informed that the good king her husband had been made prisoner, which so troubled her mind, that she seemed continually to see her chamber filled with Saracens, ready to slay her ; and she incessantly kept crying, ' Help, help !' when there was not a soul near her. For fear the fruit of her womb should perish, she made a knight watch at the foot of her bed all night without sleeping. This person was very old, not less than eighty years, or perhaps more ; and every time she screamed, he held her hands, and said, * Madam, do not be thus alarmed ; I am with you ; quit these fears.' " Before the good lady was brought to bed, she ordered every person to leave her chamber, except this ancient knight, when she cast herself out of bed on her knees before him, and requested that he would grant her a boon. The knight, with an oath, promised compliance. The queen then said, ' Sir knight, I request, on the oath you have sworn, that, should the Saracens storm this town and take it, you will cut off" my head before they seize my per- son.' The knight replied, that he would cheerfully do so, and that he had before thought of it, in case such an event should happen. The queen was, shortly after, delivered of a son in the town of Damietta, whose name was John, and his surname 25* 994 LOUI8 ARRIVES AT ACRE. Tristan, (*'. e. the Sarf,) because he had been born in misery and poverty. " The day he was born, it was told the queen that the Pisans, the Genoese, and all the poorer Euro- pean commonalty, (sailors,) that were in the town, were about to fly with their vessels, and leave the king. The queen sent for them. ' Gentlemen,' she said, ' I beg of you, for the love of God, that you will not think of quitting this town ; for you well know, if you do, that my lord the king and his whole army will be ruined. At iQast, if such be your fixed determination, have pity on this wretched person who now lies in pain, and wait until she be recovered, before you put it in execution.' " To carry her solicitations into effect, the queen was obliged to purchase- provisions to feed these wretched mariners, who complained that they must otherwise perish by hunger ; and the sum so ex- pended amounted to two hundred and sixty thousand livres, the difficulty of finding which was an aug- mentation of her distress. In this manner, after suffering repeated hardships, Louis, his queen, and his lords, were at length per- mitted to embark for Acre, at the head of the rem- nant of his army. When he had thus arrived on ground where he might consider himself as perfectly free, King Louis again became inspired with the rash Quixotry of persisting in his crusade. The Christians, or Latins, of Syria, found it their interest to foster this enthusiasm, by holding out remote and fanciful prospects of his receiving assistance. Louis was amused with wild stories of the Scheik, or Chief, of the Assassins, who was supposed pe- culiarly friendly to the King of France, and of an imaginary prince, a Christian by profession, and :i DISORDERS IN FRANCE. 295 Tartar by birth, whom these times termed Prester John, and from whose ideal assistance LQuis waa taught to expect tho means of retrieving his affairs. It was still less, however, such fallacious hopes of foreign and eastern assistance, than a sense of mor- tification as a devotee, and dishonour as a true knight, which rendered Louis reluctant to return to his own kingdom, without having distinguished his arms in some victory against the Mahometans. To pave the way for this much desired object, Louis displayed great ability and diligence in allay- ing quarrels among the Christians in Palestine, for which he was admirably fitted by the native justice and benevolence of his character, and also in forti- fying Acre, Csesarea, Joppa, and other places of importance, and in preparing for a new war in Syria. The immediate result of his labours was highly useful to Syria, insomuch that the king obtained the honourable title of Father of the Christians. But in acting towards these eastern Latins with wisdom and benevolence, Louis forgot that he owed a still more pressing duty to his own kingdom, where general confusion prevailed. For, while Louis thus pleased his fancy by providing for battles in Pales- tine that were never to be fought, the disorders occasioned by the news of his captivity had thrown all France into dismay. His mother, Queen Blanche, who acted as regent, had lost in some degree that strength and altertness of mind which distinguished her during her son's minority. Upon his departure from Marseilles, she fainted on bidding him adieu, and could scarcely be recalled to life, — showing plainly that she felt her son's absence more deeply than she was gratified by her own elevation to authority. Finally, receiving 296 DEATH OF THE QUEEN REGENT the melancholy tidings of his defeat and imprison- ment, her sorrow seems to have weakened her understanding. She suffered a wretched monk, somewhat resem- bling one of those bigots who led the first expedition under Peter the Hermit, to gather together a rabble of the lowest rank, to whom he tried to preach a new crusade, for the purpose of effecting the liberation of the king. The disorderly vagabonds, thus as- sembled, who lived at first upon alms, became soon guiUy of plunder, and gave rise to a civil war, in which they were at length defeated and extirpated by the forces of the government, but not without much loss and confusion. This intestine disorder was likely to be increased by a war with England, upon the expiry of the truce between these countries. In the meantime Queen Blanche, the regent- mother, became altogether broken-hearted on hear- ing of her son's misfortunes, and retired into a convent, where she died of m.elancholy. Her death was naturally a subject of afHiction to King Louis : but the young Queen Margaret, considering the terms on which she stood with her mother-in-law, could scarcely be supposed to share deeply in his affliction. On receiving these tidings, Louis yielded to necessity, and prepared to return to France with the remains of his army. During his voyage from Syria, the king showed many marks of sorrow and dejection, the conse- quences no doubt of the unsatisfactory issue of his crusade ; his temper also became austere, and even gloomy, of Vvhich the following is an instance. At one time he inquired for his brother, whom he ac- cused of having avoided his presence, although they were both in the same galley. LOUIS ARRIVES IN FRANCE. 297 When Louis at length discovered the Comte d* Anjou in the act of playing at tables with Sir Walter de Nemours, he staggered towards them, though scarcely able to stand from severe illness, seized the dice and tables, which he flung into the sea, and severely rebuked his brother for engaging in this trifling amusement, forgetful of the death of their brother, the Comte d'Artois, and of the extreme danger from which they had been providentially ex- tricated. " But," says De Joinville, with some naYvete, " Sir Walter de Nemours suffered the most, for the king flung all the money that lay on the tables after them into the sea." When Louis arrived, after a voyage often weeks, upon the coast of Provence, he was persuaded with difficulty to land at Hieres, because that port was not his own property. He yielded, however, in consideration of the illness of the ladies, and once more, with diminished forces, and somewhat of a tarnished reputation, resumed possession of his own kingdom. His melancholy countenance, in which he bore the deep marks of dejection, and the plainness of his dress, in which he never assumed royal splendour, implied how much he had suffered since his departure, both in mind and body. END Oy VOLUME I. 3 1158 01168 8867 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY I B 000 002 335 8