THEOLINDA.
On the banks of the Moselle, Theolinda was the fairest shepherdess; happy in love and beauty, she sat by the river’s bank, Alcidor’s arm around her. While sitting thus they were surprised by the approach of Sigebert and his Queen, who were passing a few days in a solitary castle which stood near the banks of the Moselle, surrounded by groves.
The King asked Alcidor if he would wish to serve in the army as a knight’s squire; and the Queen offered Theolinda to place her among her ladies, where she would be “as a rose among wild flowers.” Both humbly declined, urging that love was sufficient for them, but professed that they were ready to lay down their lives, if needful, for their King: he smiled and left them, assuring them of his protection and assistance, should they need it.
* * *
The hordes of the Vandals were threatening Austrasia, and Sigebert stood on the defensive, feeling his weakness; his general took up a strong position in the Vosges mountains, and there awaited the enemy.
The news of these events reached the quiet valleys of the Moselle, and Alcidor hastened to fulfil his promise to the King, and joined the army that was gathering in the forest of Ardennes; being known as a brave man, and perfectly acquainted with the intricacies of the forest, he was appointed to command a body of bowmen.
A battle ensued, and Alcidor, with his war-cry of “Theolinda,” drove all before him, but in the heat of the battle a javelin struck his heart; the battle was lost, and Theolinda heard the news from a grey-haired shepherd: she dropped senseless to the ground, but recovering, hastened to the royal camp.
The King was sitting in his council-chamber, surrounded by his courtiers, in the city of Metz, when a knight came in and said, “Gracious prince! while setting the watch a virgin approached me; she was majestically handsome and mild. First I took her for a divinity, but she addressed me in the following words,—’Permit me to speak to the General before the King quits the council-chamber.’”
“Admit her,” quoth the King.
And Theolinda entered, looking mildly and steadfastly around.
“Poor shepherdess!” said the King, “thy faithful lover hath fallen; his memory will ever be dear to us. What can I do for thee?”
“Oh, King,” replied Theolinda, “last night I saw him in my dreams, and he told me that by the decree of Heaven I am ordained to stop the career of the barbarian hordes. Wheresoever I cast my looks there shall the dark-red banner fail; the lilies shall advance carried by thy general, I preceding. Thus the white dove shall precede the army and victoriously soar aloft like the royal eagle; and I am come, my King, to lead thy warriors to victory.”
The King, without hesitation, exclaimed, “I feel the power of her words, and grant Theolinda’s request.”
Arrayed in glittering armour, and a white plume on her head, Theolinda preceded the King’s army: the King, on a fleet horse, flew from rank to rank encouraging, and victory crowned their efforts; the routed Vandals fled; and peace and prosperity returned to the banks of the Moselle.
Returning in triumph, the festive train proceeded to the Cathedral, and all being assembled within the sacred edifice, the King asked, “Where is the heroic maid that saved the country?”
At these words the ranks of the guards opened, and Theolinda appeared; her arms were bright as the morning-star, her eyes were clear and serious, roses adorned her floating hair. The King addressed her thus: “Be a member of the most noble order; Pharamond’s sword knights thee.”
The virgin humbly bent her knee, he touched her with his sword, and knights and people shouted, “Hail! all hail! blessed be the saviour of her country!”
One only request she made, which was, that at her death her ashes should be laid with those of the dead Alcidor; and then, heedless of remonstrance, departed to live the life of a hermit in the wilderness; and many suffering pilgrims wandered to her for consolation.
Many years in pious seclusion she lived; at length Alcidor again appeared to her in a dream, and said, “Thy time of probation is ended; follow me now to the regions of eternal bliss!” She inclined her head and died. They laid her, as she had requested, with Alcidor.
In many points of view this legend is curious and interesting; perhaps, could we tear the veil from history, we might find that these Merovingians were not so black as they are painted, or, at any rate, that it was owing to some redeeming points that they lived thus in their subjects’ hearts. Curious especially is this legend, inasmuch as in all probability it may have incited Joan of Arc to perform her deeds, the similarity of the two stories being remarkable; and there can be but little doubt that this legend was rife at Joan’s day in this district, near which she lived: in any case, the legend is touchingly simple and beautiful; it is given at great length in “Traditions of the Countries of the Rhine,” by Dr. Aloys Schreiber.
The Bishops of Metz early played an important part in history. Arnulph, who flourished about 622, was almost a king in power, and from him descended Charles Martel, whose son Pepin became in name, as his father had long been in fact, King of France.
Pepin’s son Charlemagne, we are told, held his court at Thionville (about twenty miles lower down the Moselle). Here he was accompanied by his seven beautiful daughters; all taught to work in wool, to ride, and to hunt, in order that they might not be corrupted by idleness: they all supped with him, and when he journeyed rode after him on horseback.
Charlemagne was said to have been seven feet high, and his arm was as mighty as his genius; wisdom and dignity sat on his brow; his seal was the handle of his sword, and he was wont to say, “With my sword I maintain all to which I affix my seal.” He died in 814, and was buried sitting upright as on a throne, and clothed in his imperial robes.
His successor, Louis, convoked the States at Thionville in 835; no less than eight Archbishops and thirty-five Bishops attended on this occasion, so numerous had become the Christian prelates. In 869 Charles the Bald was crowned at Metz, the Bishops of Metz and Toul being especially mentioned; and in his grandson’s reign we find a Bishop Wala, of Metz, killed before the gates of that city, while fighting bravely in its defence against the Norsemen, who at this period made frequent incursions into France and the adjoining countries. Bishops had ceased to be pastors, and become warriors and temporal princes.
The Bishops of Metz were long able to maintain their authority in the city, though often the citizens disputed it. In Henry the Fowler’s reign, Metz became a free imperial city; and in the twelfth century a Maître Echevin, with twelve councillors, was established, and for centuries this form of government was adhered to: thus the Bishops were superseded by a Republic. They still, however, enjoyed considerable power, being the principal parties in the election of the Maître and his council.
A curious legend of Metz is handed down to us from the beginning of the thirteenth century.