CHAPTER IV.
Aqueduct at Jouy.
Sweet age of girlhood’s prime,
When glad, and gay, and free,
Loving and loved by all,
Life flows on joyously;
Ere yet earth’s cares have dimm’d
Eyes bright with happiness,
Or thrown a shade of gloom
Of coming life, which in
Dim future seems to shine,
Lit up by present hope
As jewels light the mine.
O fair Moselle! O sweetest Maid!
Who, dancing on midst sun and shade,
Hast left thy distant mountain home,
Through woods and valleys thus to roam;
May no sad shade thy life o’erspread,
No storm break o’er thy beauteous head,
But ever may thy fair wave glide
Peaceful, as when Meurthe’s sparkling tide
Flows in, and gently whispering its tale doth tell
To thee, O Queen of Rivers, radiant Moselle!
It is a rich green valley where these waters meet, where the Meurthe dies, and dying, gives her waters to increase those of her friend.
Bountifully watering the valley’s soil, our river flows through the department named after her, Moselle, and forms a large island, where the ancient Roman aqueduct formerly strode over.
Of this aqueduct sixteen arches and one column still remain on the right bank, at the village named Jouy aux Arches; from the gardens above, the river is seen glittering through the valley, which is framed into pictures by the huge arches.
Of course a legend exists that the Devil built this aqueduct. He had promised to do it, for some unknown consideration, before cock-crow; the cock, however, crowed too soon, and the Devil, irritated with the cock and himself, kicked down an unoffending arch: the uncompleted aqueduct soon became ruinous.
Another legend makes Azita (a daughter of Noah) the builder of these arches; she, being a cautious lady, erected them in order that, if another flood came, she might climb up and be safe.
This aqueduct, which was six leagues long, poured its waters into a vast bason, where representations of naval engagements were given by the Romans. It was already a ruin in the tenth century.
Jouy is about six miles from Metz, which is esteemed the strongest city in France, and is garrisoned by twelve thousand men. As we approach the town the beautiful cathedral is seen looming large above the other buildings; it was commenced in the eleventh century, and not completed until the sixteenth: it is elegant in its proportions and beautiful in its detail; another older church is incorporated into it, and its windows are filled with very beautiful stained glass.
Approaching the town, the river breaks into two branches, and another stream comes in, all helping to fortify the old capital of the Austrasians.
The history of Metz is one of the most interesting that can be studied; its first appearance in history is as the capital of the Mediomatrices, and early it became the see of a Christian Bishop.
In the fifth century, Attila with his Huns swept like a pestilence over Europe, and Metz was sacked and burnt; to the Romans, Attila was “the Scourge of God,” to his countrymen little less than a god himself. At length he was defeated by the allied Germans and Romans on the plains of Chalons, after losing two hundred thousand men; but even then his power was unbroken, and in a few months he was before Rome, which city he was induced to spare by the intercession of the Pontiff, Leo, who, arrayed in priestly robes and surrounded by his clergy chanting hymns, sought him in his camp. Soon after he retreated northwards, and was murdered by his wife, Criemhilda, who was of German origin: with him fell his vast empire, and the Huns disappeared beyond the Black Sea. This extraordinary century saw the rise and fall of three separate kings and tribes. First came Alaric, king of the Visigoths, who overran the Roman Empire and took Rome itself by storm, A.D. 410; but soon after, dying suddenly, his kingdom perished with him. His body, it is said, was laid in the bed of an Italian river, from which the stream had been diverted; an immense treasure was placed around him, and the stream returning to its natural course, the labourers were murdered, and thus the secret of his burial-place was hid for ever. After him came Attila; and lastly, Odoacer, sprung from the Heruli, became the King of Italy, dethroning Romulus Augustus, the last Roman Emperor: he perished too, being murdered in 493 by orders of Theodoric the Ostrogoth.
During all these wars, and midst the crash of falling empires, rose slowly the sun of Christianity, and soon its penetrating beams dispersed the night that had obscured earth since the Roman splendour had passed away. Now a king was baptized, and anon a martyr died, both events alike serving to spread the religion of peace; and on the ruins of Paganism is now built up the Church of Christ, and a new period of the world’s history begins with the downfall of the Roman Empire.
The history of Metz at this early period is the history of the Austrasian kingdom, of which it was the capital.
At the beginning of the fifth century, a nation called the Franks appeared upon the scene of history: this nation was a powerful confederacy of German tribes, and came from the north-western parts of Germany.
They took possession of the neighbouring lands as far as the Moselle, and, the half of them settling on that river, were called the Salii. Gaul soon after being abandoned by the Romans, the Salii became an entirely independent nation, and about A.D. 420, being emulous of the fame of the great Gothic King (Alaric), they for the first time elected a king over themselves, and composed the celebrated Salique law. This king is handed down to us under the name of Pharamond, but it is very doubtful whether such a person ever existed; he was succeeded by Clodion, whose successor, Merowig, was the founder of the Merovingian dynasty: his grandson, Clovis, was the real founder of the kingdom of the Franks; he died “leaving a kingdom more extensive than that of modern France.”
He divided his territories into four parts, but his son Clotaire reunited them. Clovis was baptized a Christian in A.D. 493; he was ever the champion of the Church against the great Arian heresy, and has received, therefore, from the Church’s hands, a meed of praise, certainly unwarranted, “as he had on all occasions shown himself a heartless ruffian, a greedy conqueror, and a bloodthirsty tyrant;” his great power was only attained by wading through a sea of blood, flowing not only from enemies, but also from his nearest relatives and friends.
Clotaire, who is recorded as having been “cruel and licentious, even for a Merovingian,” dying, the kingdom was again divided by his sons into four parts, Sigebert receiving Austrasia, with Metz for his capital.
He married the beautiful Brunhilda, daughter of Athanagildis, king of the Visigoths; and his brother, Chilperic, married her sister: this sister was murdered at the instigation of Fredegunda, to whom Chilperic was shortly after married. Then began a series of murders and bloodshed between the rivals Brunhilda and Fredegunda.
Never, says the historian, has one family amassed such a heritage of crime as King Clovis and his descendants,—the cruelties and murders of his sons were far exceeded by those of his grandsons, their wives, and successors. The history of this period is a chaos of murders, treachery, and license. The kings lived each with several wives and concubines, murdering each other and committing every crime; while the queens caused those who opposed their power to be assassinated, poisoned even their own sons, and sowed dissensions on all sides, leading as vile lives as their husbands. Thus the Merovingian race fell under the weight of its own crimes, and, long before its final extinction in 752, it possessed but the shadow of authority, the real power being in the hands of subjects, termed Mayors of the Palace, who, from being mere house-stewards, rose to be leaders of the armies and presidents of the councils of their effeminate monarchs.
It is curious to find this debased family, through all their misdeeds, crimes, and impotency, still regarded with affection and veneration by the mass of their subjects; and although mere puppets in the hands of the Mayors, the people must have been unaware of their loss of dignity, and their eyes must have been systematically blinded by a fictitious state being preserved round these nominal kings. The following legend of Theolinda will exemplify this; the Sigebert referred to is Sigebert III., son of Dagobert I., who was the last of the family that exercised anything like independent authority.