Cameos from English History, from Rollo to Edward II

C >> Charlotte Mary Yonge >> Cameos from English History, from Rollo to Edward II

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No one cared for the corpse beneath the oak, and there it lay till
evening, when one Purkiss, a charcoal-burner of the forest hamlet of
Minestead, came by, lifted it up, and carried it on his rude cart, which
dripped with the blood flowing from the wound, to Winchester.

There the cathedral clergy buried it in a black stone coffin, ridged
like the roof of a house, beneath the tower of the cathedral, many
people looking on, but few grieving, and some deeming it shame that so
wicked a man should be allowed to lie within a church. These thought it
a judgment, when, next year, the tower fell down over the grave, and it
was rebuilt a little further westward with some of the treasure Bishop
Walkelyn had left. Never did any man's history more awfully show a
hardened, impenitent heart, going back again to sin after a great
warning, then cut off by an instantaneous death, in the full tide of
prosperity, in the very height of health and strength--for he was but in
his fortieth year.

A spur of William Rufus is still preserved at the forest town of
Lyndhurst; Purkiss's descendant still dwells at Minestead; part of the
way by which he travelled is called the King's Lane, and the oak long
remained at Stoney Cross to mark the spot where the King fell; and when,
in 1745, the remains of the wood mouldered away, a stone was set up in
its place; but the last of the posterity of William the Conqueror's
"high deer" were condemned in the course of the year 1831.

A Minestead churl, whose wonted trade
Was burning charcoal in the glade,
Outstretched amid the gorse
The monarch found: and in his wain
He raised, and to St. Swithin's fane
Conveyed the bleeding corse.

And still--so runs our forest creed--
Flourish the pious woodman's seed,
Even in the self-same spot:
One horse and cart, their little store,
Like their forefather's, neither more
Nor less, their children's lot.

And still in merry Tyndhurst hall
Red William's stirrup decks the wall;
Who lists, the sight may see.
And a fair stone in green Mai wood,
Informs the traveller where stood
The memorable tree.

Thus in those fields the Red King died,
His father wasted in his pride,
For it is God's command
Who doth another's birthright rive,
The curse unto his blood shall cleave,
And God's own word shall stand.

Who killed William Rufus? is a question to which the answer becomes more
doubtful in proportion to our knowledge of history. Suspicion attached
of course to Tyrrel, but he never owned that the shaft, either by design
or accident, came from his bow, and no one was there to bear witness.
Some think Henry Beauclerc might be guilty of the murder, and he was
both unscrupulous enough and prompt enough in taking advantage of the
circumstance, to give rise to the belief. Anselm was in Auvergne when he
heard of the King's death, and he is said to have wept at the tidings.
He soon received a message from Henry inviting him to return to England,
where he was received with due respect, and found that, outwardly at
least, order and regularity were restored in Church matters, and the
clergy possessed their proper influence. Great promises were made
to them and to the Saxons; and the hated favorite of William, Ralph
Flambard, was in prison in the Tower. However, he contrived to make his
escape by the help of two barrels, one containing wine, with which he
intoxicated his keepers, the other a rope, by which he let himself down
from the window. He went to Robert of Normandy, remained with him some
time, but at last made his peace with Henry, and in his old age was a
tolerably respectable Bishop of Durham.

Anselm was in favor at court, owing to the influence of the "good Queen
Maude," and he tried to bring about a reformation of the luxuries then
prevalent especially long curls, which had come into fashion with the
Normans of late. Like St. Wulstan, he carried a knife to clip them,
but without making much impression on the gay youths, till one of them
happened to dream that the devil was strangling him with his own long
hair, waked in a fright, cut it all off, and made all his friends do so
too.

As long as Henry was afraid of having his crown disputed by Robert,
he took care to remain on excellent terms with the Church, and Anselm
supported him with all his influence when Robert actually asserted his
rights; but when the danger was over, the strife between Church and
State began again. In 1103, Henry appointed four bishops, and required
Anselm to consecrate them, but as they all had received the staff and
ring from the King, and paid homage for their lands, he considered that
he could not do so, conformably with the decree of the Lateran Council
against lay investiture. Henry was much displeased, and ordered the
Archbishop of York to consecrate them; but two of them, convinced by
Anselm, returned the staff and ring, and would not be consecrated by any
one but their true primate.

Henry said that one archbishop must consecrate all or none, and the
whole Church was in confusion. Anselm, though now very old, offered to
go and consult the Pope, Paschal II., and the King consented; but when
Paschal decided that lay investiture was unlawful, Henry was so much
displeased that he forbade the archbishop to return to England.

The old man returned to his former Abbey of Bec, and thus remained in
exile till 1107, when a general adjustment of the whole question took
place. The bishops were to take from the altar the ring and staff,
emblems of spiritual power, and to pay homage to the king for their
temporal possessions. The election was to belong to the cathedral
clergy, subject to the King's approval. The usual course became that the
King should send to the chapter a _conge d'elire_, that is, permission
to elect, but accompanied by a recommendation of some particular person;
and this nominee of the crown was so constantly chosen, that the custom
of sending a _conge d'elire_ has become only a form, which, however, is
an assertion of the rights of the Church.

A similar arrangement with regard to the presentation of bishops was
accepted in 1122 by Henry V. of Germany, who married Matilda, the
daughter of Henry I.

After the arrangement in 1107, Anselm returned to England, and good
Queen Maude came to meet him and show him every honor. His last year was
spent at Canterbury, in a state of weakness and infirmity, terminated by
his death on the 21st of April, 1109.

A gentle, studious man was the pious Anselm, our second Italian
archbishop, thrust into the rude combat of the world against his will,
and maintaining his cause and the cause of the Church with untiring
meekness and quiet resolution.

CAMEO XIII.

THE FIRST CRUSADE.
(1095-1100.)

_King of England_.
William II.

_King of France_.
Philippe II.

_Emperor of Germany_.
Heinrich IV.

_Pope_.
Urban II.

In the November of 1095 was seen such a sight as the world never
afforded before nor since. The great plain of La Limagne, in Auvergne,
shut in by lofty volcanic mountains of every fantastic and rugged form,
with the mighty Puy de Dome rising royally above them, was scattered
from one boundary to the other with white tents, and each little village
was crowded with visitants. The town of Clermont, standing on an
elevation commanding the whole extent of the plain, was filled
to overflowing, and contained a guest before whom all bowed in
reverence--the Pope himself--Urban II., whom the nations of the West
were taught to call the Father of Christendom. Four hundred Bishops
and Abbots had met him there, other clergy to the amount of 4,000, and
princes, nobles, knights, and peasants, in numbers estimated at 30,000.
Every one's eye was, however, chiefly turned on a spare and sunburnt
man, of small stature, and rude, mean appearance, wearing a plain, dark
serge garment, girt by a cord round his waist, his head and feet bare,
and a crucifix in his hand. All looked on his austere face with the
veneration they would have shown to a saint, and with the curiosity with
which those are regarded who have dared many strange perils. He was
Peter the Hermit, of Picardy, who had travelled on pilgrimage to
Jerusalem; had there witnessed the dreadful profanities of the infidels,
and the sufferings they inflicted on the faithful; had conversed with
the venerable Patriarch Simeon; nay, it was said, while worshipping
at the Holy Sepulchre, had heard a voice calling on him to summon the
nations to the rescue of these holy spots. It was the tenth day of
the council at Clermont, and in spite of the severe cold, the clergy
assembled in the open air on the wide space in front of the dark stone
cathedral, then, as now, unfinished. There was need that all should
hear, and no building could contain the multitudes gathered at their
summons. A lofty seat had been raised for the Pope, and Peter the Hermit
stood by his side.

All was silence as the Hermit stood forth, and, crucifix in hand, poured
forth his description of the blasphemy of the infidels, the desolation
of the sacred places, and the misery of the Christians. He had seen the
very ministers of God insulted, beaten, even put to, death: he had seen
sacrilege, profanation, cruelty; and as he described them, his voice
became stifle, and his eyes streamed with tears.

When he ceased, Urban arose, and strengthened each word he had spoken,
till the whole assembly were weeping bitterly. "Yes, brethren," said
the Pope, "let us weep for our sins, which have provoked the anger of
heaven; let us weep for the captivity of Zion. But woe to us if our
barren pity leaves the inheritance of the Lord any longer in the hands
of his foes."

Then he called on them to take up arms for the deliverance of the Holy
Land. "If you live," said he, "you will possess the kingdoms of the
East; if you die, you will be owned in heaven as the soldiers of
the Lord; Let no love of home detain you; behold only the shame and
sufferings of the Christians, hear only the groans of Jerusalem, and
remember that the Lord has said, 'He that loveth his father or mother
more than Me is not worthy of Me. Whoso shall leave house, or father, or
mother, or wife, or children, and all that he has, for My sake, shall
receive an hundredfold, and in the world to come eternal life.'"

"_Deus vult; Deus vult;_"--It is God's will--broke as with one voice
from the assembly, echoing from the hills around, and pealing with a
voice like thunder.

"Yes, it is God's will," again spoke Urban, "Let these words be your
war-cry, and keep you ever in mind that the Lord of Hosts is with you."
Then holding on high the Cross--"Our Lord himself presents you His own
Cross, the sign raised aloft to gather the dispersed of Israel. Bear it
on your shoulders and your breast; let it shine on your weapons and your
standards. It will be the pledge of victory or the palm of martyrdom,
and remind you, that, as your Saviour died for you, so you ought to die
for Him." Outcries of different kinds broke out, but all were for the
holy war. Adhemar de Monteil, Bishop of Puy, a neighboring See, first
asked for the Cross, and thousands pressed after him, till the numbers
of Crosses failed that had been provided, and the cardinals and other
principal persons tore up their robes to furnish more.

The crusading spirit spread like circles from a stone thrown into the
water, as the clergy of the council carried their own excitement to
their homes, and the hosts who took the Cross were beyond all reckoning.
On the right or wrong of the Crusades, it is useless as well as
impossible to attempt to decide. It was doubtless a spirit of religion,
and not of self-interest, that prompted them; they were positively the
best way of checking the progress of Mahometanism and the incursions of
its professors, and they were undertaken with far purer intentions than
those with which they were carried on. That they afterward turned to
great wickedness, is not to be denied; some of the degenerate Crusaders
of the latter days were among the wickedest of mankind, and the misuse
of the influence they gave the Popes became a source of some of the
worst practices of the Papacy. Already Pope Urban was taking on him to
declare that a man who perished in the Crusade was sure of salvation,
and his doctrine was still further perverted and falsified till it
occasioned endless evils.

Yet, in these early days, joined with many a germ of evil, was a
grandeur of thought, a self-devotion, and truly religious spirit, which
will hardly allow us to call the first Crusade other than a glorious and
a Holy War.

It was time, politically speaking, to carry the war into the enemy's
quarters, and repress the second wave of Mahometan conquest. Islam
[Footnote: Islam, meaning "the faith;" it is a barbarism to speak of
the faith of Islam.] has often been called the religion of the sword,
and Mahomet and his Arabic successors, under the first impulse,
conquered Syria, Persia, Northern Africa, and Spain, and met their first
check at Tours from Charles Martel. These, the Saracen Arabs, were a
generous race, no persecutors, and almost friendly to the Christians,
contenting themselves with placing them under restrictions, and exacting
from them a small tribute. After the first great overflow, the tide had
somewhat ebbed, and though a brave and cultivated people, they were
everywhere somewhat giving way on their orders before the steady
resistance of the Christians. Probably, if they had continued in
Palestine, there would have been no Crusades.

But some little time before the eleventh century, a second flood began
to rush from the East. A tribe of Tartars, called Turcomans, or Turks,
embraced Mahometanism, and its precepts of aggression, joining with the
warrior-spirit of the Tartar, impelled them forward.

They subdued and slaughtered the Saracens of Syria, made wide conquests
in Asia Minor, winning towns of the Greek Empire beyond where the
Saracens had ever penetrated, and began to threaten the borders of
Christendom. They were very different masters from the Arabs. Active
in body, but sluggish in mind, ignorant and cruel, they destroyed
and overthrew what the Saracens had spared, disregarded law, and
capriciously ill-treated and slaughtered their Christian subjects and
the pilgrims who fell into their hands. It was against these savage
Turks that the first Crusade was directed.

Peter the Hermit soon gathered together a confused multitude of
peasants, women, and children, with whom he set out, together with
a German knight named Walter, and called by his countrymen by the
expressive name _Habe Nichts_, translated into French, _Sans avoir_, and
less happily rendered in English, _The Penniless_. They were a poor,
ignorant, half-armed set, who so little knew what they were undertaking,
that at every town they came to they would ask if that was Jerusalem.
Peter must either have been beyond measure thoughtless, or have expected
a miracle to help him, for he set out to lead these poor creatures
the whole length of Europe without provisions. They marauded on the
inhabitants of the countries through which they passed; the inhabitants
revenged themselves and killed them, and the whole wretched host were
cut off, chiefly in Hungary and Bulgaria, and Peter himself seems to
have been the only man who escaped.

A better-appointed army, consisting of the very flower of chivalry of
Europe, had in the meantime assembled to follow the same path, though in
a different manner.

First in name and honor was Godfrey de Bouillon, Duke of Lorraine, one
of the most noble characters whom history records. He was pure in life,
devotedly pious, merciful, gentle, and a perfect observer of his word,
at the same time that his talents and wisdom were very considerable;
he was a finished warrior, expert in every exercise of chivalry, of
gigantic strength, and highly renowned as a leader. He had been loyal
to the Emperor Henry IV. through the war which had taken place in
consequence of his excommunication by Gregory VII. He had killed in
battle the rebellious competitor for the imperial crown, who, when dying
from a wound by which he had lost his right hand, exclaimed, "With this
hand I swore fealty to Henry; cursed be they who led me to break my
oath." Godfrey had likewise been the first to scale the walls of Rome,
when Henry IV. besieged Gregory there; but he, in common with many
others of the besieging force, soon after suffered severely from malaria
fever--the surest way in which modern Rome chastises her invaders; and
thinking his illness a judgment for having taken part against the Pope,
he vowed to make a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Soon after, the Crusade was
preached, and Godfrey was glad to fulfil his vow with his good sword in
his hand, while Pope and princes wisely agreed that such a chieftain was
the best they could choose for their expedition.

Many another great name was there: Raymond, the wise Count of Toulouse;
the crafty Boemond, one of the Normans of Sicily; his gallant cousin,
Tancred, a mirror of chivalry, the Achilles of the Crusade; but our
limits will only allow us to dwell on those through whom the Crusade is
connected with English history.

The Anglo-Normans had not been so forward in the Crusade as their
enterprising nature would have rendered probable, but the fact was,
that, with such a master as William Rufus, no one felt that he could
leave his home in anything like security. Helie de la Fleche, Count de
Maine, [Footnote: Robert of Normandy had been betrothed in his childhood
to the heiress of Maine, but she died before she was old enough for the
marriage to take place. In right of this intended marriage, the Norman
Kings claimed Maine, though Helie was the next heir.] took the Cross,
and asked William for some guarantee that his lands should not be
molested. "You may go where you like," said William; "I mean to have
your city. What my father had, I will have."

"It is mine by right," said Helie; "I will plead it with you."

"I will plead, too." said William; "but my lawyers will be spears and
arrows."

"I have taken the Cross; my land is under Christ's own protection."

"I only warn you," said William, "that if you go, I shall pay the good
town of Mans a visit, with a thousand lances at my heel."

So Helie stayed at home, and in two years' time was made a prisoner when
in a wood with only seven knights. Mans was seized, and he was brought
before the King. "I have you now, my master," said William.

"By chance," said Helie; "but if I were free, I know what I would do."

"What would you do, you knave?" said William. "Hence, go, fly, I give
you leave to do all you can; and if you catch me, I ask nothing in
return."

Helie was set at liberty, and the next year, while William was absent
in England, managed to retake Mans. The Red King was hunting in the
New Forest when he heard the tidings; he turned his horse's head and
galloped away, as his father had once done, with the words, "He who
loves me, will follow." He threw himself into a ship, and ordered the
sails to be set, though the wind was so boisterous that the sailors
begged him to wait. "Fools," he said, "did you ever hear of a drowned
king?" He cruelly ravaged Maine, but could not take the city, and,
having been slightly wounded, returned to meet his fate in the New
Forest.

After this story, no one could wonder that it required a great deal of
enthusiasm to persuade a man to leave his inheritance exposed to the
grasp of the Red King, who, unlike other princes, set at nought the
anathemas by which the Pope guarded the lands of absent Crusaders.
Stephen, Count de Blois, the husband of William's sister Adela, took the
Cross. He was wise in counsel, and learned, and a letter which he wrote
to his wife is one of the chief authorities for the early part of the
expedition; but his health was delicate, and it was also said that his
personal courage was not unimpeachable; at any rate, he soon returned
home.

One of the foremost of the Crusaders was, however, our own Norman
Prince, Robert Courtheuse. Every one knows the deep stain of
disobedience on Robert's early life; and yet so superior was he to his
brothers in every point of character, that it is impossible not to
regard him with a sort of affection, though the motto of his whole
career might be, "Unstable as water, thou shalt not excel."

Never was man more completely the tool of every villain who gained
his ready ear. It was the whisper of evil counsellors that fired his
jealousy of his young brothers, and drove him into rebellion against his
father; the evil counsel of William led him to persecute Henry, loving
him all the time: and when in possession of his dukedom, his careless,
profuse habits kept him in constant poverty, while his idle good-nature
left unpunished the enormities of the barons who made his country
miserable.

But in generosity he never failed; he heartily loved his brothers, while
duped and injured by them again and again; he always meant to be true
and faithful, and never failed, except from hastiness and weakness; and
while William was infidel, and Henry hypocritical, he was devout and
sincere in faith, though miserably defective in practice.

The Crusade was the happiest and most respectable period of his life,
and no doubt he never was more light-hearted than when he delivered over
to William the mortgage of his dukedom, with all its load of care, and
received in return the sum of money squeezed by his brother from all
the unfortunate convents in England, but which Robert used to equip his
brave knights and men-at-arms, assisted by some of the treasures of
his uncle, Bishop Odo, who had taken the Cross, but was too feeble and
infirm to commence the expedition.

The Crusaders were not sufficiently advanced in the knowledge of
navigation to attempt to enter Palestine by sea, and they therefore
traversed Germany, Hungary, and the Greek Empire, trusting to the
Emperor Alexis Comnenus to give them the means of crossing the
Hellespont. Alexis was in great dread of his warlike guests; the schism
between the Greek and Roman Churches caused continual heart-burnings;
and at the same time he considered, very naturally, that all the lands
in the East at present occupied by the Mahometans were his right. He
would not, therefore, ferry over the Crusaders to Asia till they had
sworn allegiance to him for all that they might conquer, and it was a
long time before Godfrey would comply. At last, however, on condition
that the Greeks would furnish them with guides and reinforcements, they
took the oaths; but as Alexis did not fulfil his part of the engagement,
they did not consider themselves bound to him.

At Nicea, the Crusading army, of nineteen different nations, of whom
100,000 were horse and 500,000 infantry, came in sight of the Turks,
and, after a long siege and several hotly-contested battles, won
the town. They continued their march, but with much suffering and
difficulty; Raymond of Toulouse had an illness which almost brought him
to the grave, and Godfrey himself was seriously injured by a bear, which
he had attacked to save the life of a poor soldier who was in danger
from its hug. He killed the bear, but his thigh was much torn, and he
was a long time recovering from the effects of his encounter.

At the siege of Antioch were their chief disasters; they suffered from
hunger, disease, inundations of the Orontes, attacks of the enemy, until
the living were hardly enough to bury the dead. The courage of many gave
way; Robert of Normandy retired to Laodicea, and did not return till he
had been three times summoned in the name of the Christian Faith; and
Peter the Hermit himself, a man of more enthusiasm than steadiness,
began to despair, and secretly fled from the camp in the night. As his
defection would have done infinite harm to the cause, Tancred pursued
him and brought him back to the camp, and Godfrey obliged him to swear
that he would not again leave them. In the spring of 1098 a great battle
took place, in which Godfrey, Robert, and Tancred each performed feats
of the highest prowess. In the midst of the battle, Tancred made his
esquire swear never to reveal his exploits, probably as a mortification
of his own vanity in hearing them extolled. After a siege of more than
seven months, Boemond effected an entrance by means of an understanding
with some of the Eastern Christians within the town. It was taken, with
great slaughter, and became a principality ruled by the Sicilian Norman.

Another great victory opened the way to Palestine, and the Crusaders
advanced, though still very slowly. During the march, one of the
knights, named Geoffroi de la Tour, is said to have had a curious
adventure. He was hunting in a forest, when he came upon a lion
struggling in the folds of a huge serpent; he killed the serpent, and
released the lion, which immediately fawned upon him and caressed him.
It followed him affectionately throughout the Crusade, but when he
embarked to return to Europe, the sailors refused to admit the lion into
their vessel. The faithful creature plunged into the sea to follow its
master, swam till its strength was exhausted, and then sank and was
drowned. [Footnote: Michaud's _Histoire des Croisades_ gives this story
from two authorities.]