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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It was on a glowing morning of June, 1098, that the Crusading host,
Tancred first of all, came in sight of the object of all their
toils--the City set upon a Hill.

There it stood, four-square, on the steep, solid, fortification-like
rocks, rising from the rugged ravines, Kedron, Siloam, Jehoshaphat,
Gehenna, that form, as it were, a deep moat round the walls, and natural
defences, bulwarks planted by the Lord's own hand around His own City,
while He was still her Tower of Salvation, and had not left her to the
spoiler. There stood the double walls, the low-built, flat-roofed,
windowless houses, like so many great square blocks, here and there
interspersed with a few cypresses and aloes, the mighty Tower of David,
the Cross of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, and far above it, alas!
the dome of the Mosque of Omar, with its marble gates and porphyry
pillars, on the flat space on Mount Moriah, where the Temple had once
flashed back the sunlight from its golden roof.

Jerusalem, enslaved and profaned, but Jerusalem still; the Holy City,
the mountain whither all nations should turn to worship, the sacred name
that had been spoken with reverence in every holiest lesson, the term
of all the toils they had undergone. "Jerusalem! Jerusalem!" cried the
foremost ranks. Down fell on their knees--nay, even prostrate on their
faces--each cross-bearing warrior, prince and knight, page and soldier.
Some shouted for joy, some kissed the very ground as a sacred thing,
some wept aloud at the thought of the sins they had brought with them,
and the sight of the tokens of Zion's captivity--the Dome and the
Crescent. Then once more their war-cry rose as with one voice, and Mount
Zion and Mount Olivet echoed it back to them, "_Deus vult! Deus vult!_"
as to answer that the time was come.

But Jerusalem was only in sight--not yet won; and the Crusaders had much
to suffer, encamped on the soil of iron, beneath the sky of brass, which
is part of the doom of Judea. The vineyards, cornfields, and olive-trees
of ancient times had given place to aridity and desolation; and the
Christian host endured much from heat, thirst, and hunger, while their
assaults on the walls were again and again repelled. They pressed
forward their attacks as much as possible, since they could not long
exist where they were.

Three great wooden towers were erected, consisting of different stages
or stories, where the warriors stood, while they were wheeled up to the
walls. Godfrey, Raymond, and Tancred each had the direction of one of
these towers, and on the fourteenth of July the general assault began.
The Turks, on their side, showered on them arrows, heavy stones, and
Greek fire--an invention consisting of naphtha and other inflammable
materials, which, when once ignited, could not be quenched by water,
but only by vinegar. It was cast from hollow tubes, and penetrating the
armor of the Christians, caused frightful agonies.

Raymond's tower was broken down or burnt; Godfrey and Tancred fought
on, almost overpowered, their warriors falling round them, the enemy
shouting with joy and deriding them. At the moment when the Crusaders
were all but giving way, a horseman was seen on the Mount of Olives, his
radiant armor glittering in the sun, and raising on high a white shield
marked with the red Cross. "St. George! St. George!" cried Godfrey's
soldiers; "the Saints fight for us! _Deus vult! Deus vult!_" and on they
rushed again in an ecstasy of enthusiasm that nothing could resist. Some
broke through a half-opened breach, some dashed from the wooden towers,
some scaled the fortifications by their ladders, the crowd came over
the walls like a flood, and swept all before them with the fury of that
impulse.

There was a frightful slaughter; the Crusaders, brought up in a pitiless
age, looked on the Saracens as devoted to the sword, like the Canaanite
nations, and spared not woman or child. The streets streamed with blood,
and the more merciful chieftains had not power to restrain the carnage.
Raymond did indeed save those who had taken refuge in the Tower of
David, and Tancred sent three hundred in the Mosque of Omar his own
good pennon to protect them, but in vain; some of the other Crusaders
massacred them, to his extreme indignation, as he declared his knightly
word was compromised.

Godfrey had fought on as long as resistance lasted, then he threw
himself from his horse, laid aside his helmet and gauntlets, bared his
feet, and ascended the hill of Calvary. It was Friday, and the ninth
hour of the day, when the Christian chief entered the circular-vaulted
church, and descended, weeping at once for joy and for sorrow, into
the subterranean crypt, lighted with silver lamps--the Holy Sepulchre
itself, where his Lord had lain, and which he had delivered. Far
from the sound of tumult and carnage, there he knelt in humility and
thankfulness, and in time the rest of the chieftains gathered thither
also--Tancred guided by the chant of the Greek Christians who had taken
refuge in the church. Peter the Hermit sang mass at the altar, and thus
night sunk down on Jerusalem and the victorious Christians.

The following days confirmed the conquest, and councils began to be held
on the means of securing it. A King was to be elected, and it is said
that the crown was offered to Robert of Normandy, and declined by him.
Afterward, by universal consent, Godfrey de Bouillon was chosen to be
King of Jerusalem.

He accepted the office, with all its toils and perils, but he would
neither bear the title nor crown. He chose to leave the title of King of
Jerusalem to Him to whom alone it belonged; he would not wear a crown of
gold where that King had Worn a crown of thorns, and he kept only his
knightly helmet, with the title of Defender and Baron of the Holy
Sepulchre.

Well did he fulfil his trust, ever active, and meeting the infidels with
increasing energy wherever they attacked him; but it was only for one
year. The climate undermined his health; he fell sick of a fever, and
died in July, 1100, just one year from the taking of Jerusalem. He lies
buried in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, beneath a stone bearing
these words: "Here lieth the victorious Duke Godfrey de Bouillon, who
won all this land to the Christian faith. May whose soul reign with
Christ." His good sword is also still kept in the same church, and was
long used to dub the Knights of the Holy Sepulchre.

CAMEO XIV.

THE ETHELING FAMILY.
(1010-1159.)

_Kings of England_.
Knute and his sons.
Edward.
Harold.
William I.
William II.
Henry I.

_Kings of France_.
Henry I.
Philippe I.
Louis VI.

When, in 1016, the stout-hearted Edmund Ironside was murdered by Edric
Streona, he left two infant sons, Edmund and Edward, who fell into the
power of Knute.

These children were placed, soon after, under the care of Olaf
Scotkonung, King of Sweden, who had been an ally of their grandfather's,
and had sent to England to request that teachers of the Gospel might
come to him. By these English clergy he had been baptized, and his
country converted, so that they probably induced him to intercede with
Knute for the orphan princes. Shortly after, a war broke out between
Denmark and Sweden, and Olaf, believing, perhaps, that the boys were
unsafe in the North, where Knute's power was so great, transferred them
to Buda, to the care of Stephen, King of Hungary.

It was a happy home for them. Stephen, the first king of Hungary, was
a most noble character, a conqueror and founder of a kingdom, humble,
devout, pious, and so charitable that he would go about in disguise,
seeking for distressed persons. He was a great lawgiver, and drew up an
admirable code, in which he was assisted by his equally excellent son
Emeric, and was the first person who in any degree civilized the Magyar
race. His son Emeric died before him, leaving no children; and, after
three years of illness, Stephen himself expired in 1038. His name has
ever since been held in high honor, and his arched crown, half-Roman,
half-Byzantine, was to the Hungarians what St. Edward's crown is to
us. After Hungary was joined to the German Empire, there was still a
separate coronation for it, and it was preserved in the castle of Buda,
under a guard of sixty-four soldiers, until the rebellion of 1848, when
it was stolen by the insurgents, and has never since been recovered.

After Stephen's death, there was a civil war between the heathen Magyars
and the Christians, ending in the victory of the latter, and the
establishment of Andrew in the kingdom. This was in 1051, and it was
probably the sister-in-law of this Andrew whom the Saxon prince Edward
married. All we are told about her is, that her name was Agatha, and
that she was learned and virtuous.

In 1058, Edward, the only survivor of the brothers, was invited by his
cousin, the childless Confessor, to return to England, and there be
owned as Etheling, or heir to the crown. He came, but after his forty
years' absence from his native country, his language, habits, and
manners were so unlike those of the English, that he was always known by
the name of Edward the Stranger.

After two years, both the Stranger and his wife Agatha died, leaving
three young children, Christina, Margaret, and Edgar, of whom the boy
was the youngest. His only inheritance, poor child, was his title of
Etheling, declaring a claim which was likely to be his greatest peril.
Edward the Confessor passed him entirely over in disposing of his
kingdom; and as he was but six, or, as some say, ten years old, Harold
seems to have feared no danger from him, but left him at liberty within
the city of London.

There he remained while the battles of Stamford Bridge and Hastings were
fought, and there, when the tidings came that the Normans had conquered,
the little child was led forth, while a proclamation was made before him
that Edgar was King of England. But it was only a few faithful
citizens that thus upheld the young descendant of Alfred. Some were
faint-hearted, others were ambitious; Edwin and Morkar said they would
support him if the bishops would; the bishops declared that the Pope
favored the Normans. The Conqueror was advancing, and from the walls of
London the glare of flame might be seen, as he burnt the villages of
Hertfordshire and Surrey, and soon the camp was set up without the
walls, and the Conqueror lodging in King Edward's own palace of
Westminster. The lame Alderman Ansgard was carried in his litter to hold
secret conference with him, and returned with promises of security for
lives and liberties, if the citizens would admit and acknowledge King
William. They dreaded the dangers of a seige, and gladly accepted his
proposal, threw open their gates, and came forth in procession to
Westminster to present him with the keys, basely carrying with them the
helpless boy whom they had a few weeks before owned as their king.

Edgar was a fair child, of the old Saxon stamp of beauty, with flaxen
hair and blue eyes; and the Duke of Normandy, harsh as he usually was,
received him affectionately. Perhaps he thought of his own orphanhood at
the same age, and the many perils through which he had been preserved,
and pitied the boy deprived of his kingdom, without one faithful hand
raised to protect him, and betrayed to his enemies. He took him in his
arms, kissed him, promised him favors and kindness, and never broke the
promise.

For the next two years Edgar remained at the court of William, until the
general spirit of hatred of the Normans began to incite the Saxons to
rise against them. Cospatric, Earl of Durham, thought it best to secure
the safety of the royal children, and, secretly withdrawing Edgar and
his two sisters from the court, he embarked with them for the Continent,
intending to take them to their mother's home in Hungary.

Contrary winds drove the ship to Scotland, and there the orphans were
brought to King Malcolm III. Never had an apparent misfortune been
in truth a greater blessing. Malcolm had but seven years before been
himself a wandering exile, sheltered in the court of Edward the
Confessor, after his father, the gracious Duncan, was murdered, and the
usurper Macbeth on the throne. He had venerated the saintly Confessor,
and remembered the untimely death of the Stranger, which had left these
children friendless in what was to them a foreign land; and he owed his
restoration to his throne to the Saxon army under old Siward Bjorn. Glad
to repay his obligations, he conducted the poor wanderers to his castle
of Dumfermline, treated them according to their rank, and promised to
assert Edgar's claim to the crown.

He accordingly advanced into England, where, in many places, partial
risings were being made on behalf of "England's darling," as the Saxon
ballads called young Edgar, after his ancestor Alfred. It was, however,
all in vain: Malcolm did not arrive till the English had been defeated
on the banks of the Tyne, and the Normans avenging their insurrection
by such cruel devastation, that nine years after the commissioners of
Domesday Book found no inhabitants nor cultivation to record between
York and Durham.

There is some confusion in both the English and Scottish histories
respecting Malcom's exertions in Edgar's cause; indeed, the Border
warfare was always going on, and now and then the King took part in
it. At length William and Malcolm, each at the head of an army, met
in Galloway, and after standing at bay for some days, entered into a
treaty. Malcolm paid homage to the English King for the two Lothians and
Cumberland, and at the same time secured the safety of Edgar Etheling.
The boy solemnly renounced all claim to the English crown, engaging
never to molest the Conqueror or his children in their possession of it;
while, on the other hand, he was endowed with estates in England, and a
pension of a mark of silver a day was settled upon him. He could not at
this time have been more than fourteen--there is more reason to think he
was but ten years old--but the oath that he then took he kept with the
most unshaken fidelity, in the midst of temptations, and of examples of
successful perjury.

He returned with his friend to Scotland, where, the next year, his
beautiful sister Margaret consented to become the wife of their
host, the King Malcolm; but Christina, the other sister, preferred a
conventual life, though she seems for the present to have continued with
Margaret at Dumfermline.

Gentle Margaret, bred in some quiet English convent; taught by her
mother to remember the Greek cultivation and holy learning of good King
Stephen's court; perhaps blessed by the tender hand of pious Edward the
Confessor, and trained by the sweet rose, Edith, sprung from the thorn,
Godwin; she must have felt desolate and astray among the rude, savage
Scots, wild chiefs of clans, owning no law, full of brawling crime and
violence, too strong to be kept in order by force, and their wives
almost as untamed and rude as themselves. Her husband was a rough,
untutored warrior, ruling by the main force of a strong hand, and asking
counsel of his own honest heart and ready wit, but perfectly ignorant,
and probably uncouth in his appearance, as his appellation of Cean Mohr
means Great-head.

But Margaret was a true daughter of Alfred, and the traditions of the
Alfred of Hungary were fresh upon her, and, instead of sitting down to
cower alarmed amid the turmoils round her, she set herself to conquer
the evils in her own feminine way, by her performance of her queenly
duties. She was happy in her husband: Malcolm revered her saintly purity
even more than he loved her sweet, sunny, cheerful manner, or admired
her surpassing loveliness of person. He looked on her as something too
precious and tender for his wild, rugged court, and attended to her
slightest bidding with reverence, kissing her holy books which he could
not read, and interpreting her Saxon-spoken advice to his rude Celts.
She even made him help her to wash the feet of the poor, and aid her in
disgusting offices to the diseased, and his royal treasury was open to
her to take all that she desired for alms. Sometimes she would pretend
to take it by stealth, and Malcolm would catch her by the wrists and
carry her to her confessor, to ask if she was not a little thief who
deserved to be well punished. In his turn he would steal away her books,
and bring them back after a time, gilt and adorned with beautiful
illuminations.

The love and reverence with which so bold a warrior treated her,
together with her own grace and dignity, had its effect on the unruly
Scottish chieftains, and not one of them ventured to use a profane word,
or make an unseemly jest before her. They had a rude, ungodly practice
of starting away from table without waiting for grace, and this the
gentle queen reformed by sending, as an especial gift from herself, a
cup of wine to all who remained. In after times the last cup was called,
after her, St. Margaret's cup, or the grace-cup.

To improve the manners of the ladies, she gathered round her a number of
young girls, whom she brought up under her own eye, and she used to sit
in the midst of them, embroidering rich vestments for the service of
the Church, and permitting cheerful talk with the nobles whom she
admitted--all men of whose character she had a good opinion. She
endeavored to reform the Scottish Church which had become very sluggish,
and did little to contend with Highland savagery. There were only three
Bishops and those not with fixed sees. Margaret and her husband convened
a synod, when Margaret herself explained her views, and Malcolm
interpreted. It was not a usual order of things, but to themselves quite
satisfactory, and thenceforth the Scottish Church became assimilated
to the rest of the Western communion. It was a Saxon immigration: the
Lowlands became more English than England then was, and Scotch is still
more like Saxon than the tongue we speak. But the Celts bitterly hated
the change; and thenceforth the land was divided.

She was gay and playful; but her fasts and mortifications in secret were
very great. She cut off unnecessary food and sleep, and spent half the
night in prayer. She daily washed the feet of six poor people, and
washed, clothed, and fed nine orphan babes, besides relieving all who
came to ask her bounty, attending to the sick, and sending to ransom
captives, especially her own countrymen the English, lodging her rescued
prisoners in a hospital which she had founded, till they could be sent
to their own homes.

Leading this happy and holy life, Edgar left his sister about two years
after her marriage, upon an invitation from Philippe I. of France; but
he was shipwrecked on the coast of Normandy, and coming to Rouen, was
kindly received by William, and remained with him. A close friendship
sprung up between the disinherited Etheling and Robert the heir
of Normandy, who was only a year or two older. Both were brave,
open-hearted, and generous, and their love for each other endured, on
Edgar's side, through many a trial and trouble. Happy would it have been
for Robert had all his friends been like Edgar Adeling, as the Normans
called him. A few years more made Edgar a fine young man, expert in the
exercises of chivalry, and full of the spirit of enterprise: but he did
not join his friend in rebellion against his father; and after Robert
had quitted Rouen, never to return thither in his father's lifetime, he
obtained permission from William to go on pilgrimage, gave his pension
for a fine horse, and set off for Italy with two hundred knights, fought
there, or in Sicily, against the Saracens, for some time, and then
continued his pilgrimage.

He returned through Constantinople, where many of the English fugitives
were serving in the Varangian guard. The Emperor Alexius Comnenus was
much pleased with him, and offered him high preferment if he would
remain with him; but Edgar loved his own country too well, and proceeded
homeward.

He found a changed state of affairs on his arrival in Normandy. William
the Conqueror was dead, and Robert, with the aid of Henry Beauclerc,
just preparing to assert his right to the English crown against Red
William. Edgar Etheling offered his sword to assist his friend; but he
was shamefully treated. William came to Normandy, sought a conference
with Robert, cajoled or outwitted him into a treaty in which one of the
conditions was that he should withdraw his protection from both Edgar
and Henry, and deprive the former of all the lands in Normandy which
their father had given him.

Edgar retired to Scotland to his sister Margaret, whom he found the
mother of nine children, continuing the same peaceful, active life in
which he had left her, and her holy influence telling more and more upon
her court. Many Saxons had come to live in the lowlands of Scotland,
and the habits and manners of the court of Dumfermline were being fast
modelled on those of Westminster in the time of Edward and Edith.

Malcolm and William Rufus were at war, and Edgar accompanied his
brother-in-law to the banks of the Tyne, where they were met by William
and Robert. No battle took place; but Edgar and Robert, meeting on
behalf of the two kings, arranged a treaty of peace. In return for this
service, William permitted Edgar to return to England, being perhaps
persuaded by Robert and Malcolm that the English prince was a man of his
word, though to his own hindrance.

The peace, thus effected did not last long, most unhappily for Scotland.
Malcolm, with his two eldest sons, Edward and Edmund, invaded England,
and laid siege to Alnwick Castle, leaving the Queen at Edinburgh,
seriously ill. At Alnwick the Scottish army was routed, and Malcolm and
Edward were slain. The tradition is, that one of the garrison pretended
to surrender the castle, by giving the keys, through a window, on the
point of a lance; [Footnote: Curiously in accordance with this story we
find, in the Bayeux tapestry, the surrender of Dinan represented by the
delivery of the keys in this manner to William the Conqueror.] but that
he treacherously thrust the weapon into the eye of Malcolm, and thus
killed him. The story adds that thus the soldier acquired the name of
Pierce-eye, or Percy; which is evidently incorrect, since the Percys of
Alnwick trace their origin to William de Albini, who married Henry
Beauclerc's second queen, Alice of Louvain.

An instant disturbance prevailed on the King's death. His army fled in
dismay; his corpse was left on the ground, till a peasant carried it to
Tynemouth; his men were dispersed, slain, or drowned in their flight;
his young son Edmund, a stripling of eighteen or nineteen, just
contrived to escape to Edinburgh Castle. The first tidings that met him
there were, that his mother was dying; that she lay on her bed in great
anxiety for her husband and sons, and finding no solace except in holding
a fragment of the true Cross pressed to her lips, and repeating the
fifty-first Psalm.

The poor youth, escaped from a lost battle, and bearing such dreadful
tidings, was led to her presence at once.

"How fares it with your father and brother?" said she.

He feared to tell her all, and tried to answer, "Well;" but she
perceived how it was too plainly, and holding out the Holy Cross,
commanded him to speak the truth. "They are slain, mother--both slain!"

Margaret's thoughts must have rushed back to the twenty-three years of
uninterrupted affection she had enjoyed with her lord, to her gallant
son, slain in his first battle, and onward to the unprotected state of
the seven orphans she left in the wild kingdom. Agony indeed it was; but
she blessed Him who sent it. "All praise be to Thee, everlasting God,
who hast made me to suffer such anguish in my death."

She lingered on a few hours longer, while storms raged around. The wild
Celts hated Malcolm's improvements and Saxon arts of peace, and his
brother Donald was placing himself at their head to deprive his lawful
brothers of their heritage. A troop of Highlanders were on their way to
besiege Edinburgh Castle, even when the holy Queen drew her last breath;
and her friends had barely time to admire the sweet peacefulness that
had spread over her wasted features, before they were forced to carry
her remains away in haste and secrecy, attended by her weeping,
trembling children, to Dumfermline Abbey, where she was buried.

Her children, seven in number (for Ethelred, the eldest, had died in
infancy), were left unprotected. Edmund was only eighteen, and timid
and gentle. Donald seized the crown; and the orphans remained in great
danger, till their brave uncle, Edgar Etheling, learnt the fatal
tidings, and, coming from England, fetched them all home with him,
giving the two girls, Edith and Mary, into the care of their aunt
Christina, who was now Abbess of Wilton. It was at some danger to
himself that he took the desolate children under his protection. A man
named Orgar accused him to William Rufus of intending to raise his
nephews to the English crown. A knight, named Goodwin, no doubt of Saxon
blood, no sooner heard the aspersion, than he answered by avowing the
honor and faithfulness of his Etheling, threw down his glove, and defied
Orgar to single combat--"God show the right." It was shown; Orgar fell,
and Saxons and Normans both rejoiced, for the Etheling had made himself
much beloved.