CHAPTER V.

At the time of the Anglo-Saxon invasion of England, and for three centuries later, the history of France and Germany were one and the same.

The Roman Empire, in its decrepitude, found it a difficult task to retain its dominion over Gaul, and so enlisted the Franks as allies. Thus was made a breach in the wall between the Kelt and the Teuton, through which in time flowed an irresistible German torrent, intermingling with the former population, and, by virtue of its superior strength, spreading itself over the land in permanent dominion; and when Clovis, their Frankish leader, drove out from Gaul the last remnant of Roman power, in 483 of our era, all connection with the expiring empire was severed. The loose confederation of tribes was gathered by the strong hand of the conquering Frank under one head, and Clovis was proclaimed king, with hereditary rights for his children.

With this event the doors close upon antiquity, and we are in the path which leads swiftly to modern history.

Clovis, the son of Merowig, gave his name to the dynasty thus founded. One of his first acts was the renouncing of paganism, through the influence of his wife, Clotilde, so that from their very birth France and Germany were Christian, while England lingered for centuries under pagan rule.

The grandchildren of Clovis and Clotilde, Siegfried and Brunhilde, were the heroes of the "Niebelungen Lied," and their adventures inspired not alone the great German epic, but have lent to the greatest music of modern times its majestic, heroic swing.

The real Brunhilde did not immolate herself upon her husband's funeral pile, as in the musical romance, but an end more tragic and vastly more terrible was hers. After being tortured for three days, her hair was tied to the tail of a fiery horse, spurs plunged into his sides, and the unhappy queen was ground to fragments upon the stones of the Rue St. Honoré, Paris, where this tragedy occurred about the year 600 A.D.

But the heroic strain in the Merovingian blood soon exhausted itself. The kings became effeminate, luxurious, and, after a time, too indolent even to govern, and finally gave entire control of state affairs to a royal steward, known as "maire du palais" or major domus, who was indeed king de facto, with authority supreme over the king himself.

Pepin was the last of these royal stewards. Conscious of his own superior fitness, he took the crown from the long, perfumed locks of the last Merovingian king and placed it upon his own head. What matter that he had no drop of royal blood in his veins? He held the sceptre with firm hand, by the divine right of ability, leaving it upon his death to his second son Charlemagne, who was destined to wield it by divine right of born conqueror and ruler of men.