|842 to 844.|
When Hastings arrived off the coast, he divided his fleet into two squadrons. One ascended the Somme, set fire to the towns which lay on its banks, and murdered the inhabitants. The other proceeded to the mouth of the Loire, and committed the same depredations on its banks. Nantes was taken, and all who had sought refuge in the cathedral were put to death. Churches, monasteries, towns, hamlets,—everything which lay in the passage of the invaders, was destroyed. Proceeding to the south, they ravaged the coasts of Galicia, but were defeated by the king of Leon. This check forced them from Spain; but they spread their wild hordes over the south of France, from Thoulouse to the Pyrenees. As they had established a kind of wooden fortress on the Loire, they now erected one on the Garonne. But they were not satisfied with the failure of their arms against Spain; they were determined, by future successes, to blot out the memory of this disgrace; and, with a larger fleet, they returned to that peninsula. Lisbon, then an inconsiderable town, was plundered; passing to the south and east, the armament ascended the Guadalquivir, and assailed the important city of Seville, then in the power of the Mohammedans. Strange was the chance which thus brought the robbers of Scandinavia and those of the Arabian deserts into collision with each other. But the followers of Odin had the advantage over those of Mohammed; doubtless because the latter were few in number, and unprepared for the attack. From this city they made some predatory excursions into the neighbouring country; but the Arabs, by surprising a part of their fleet, counter-balanced the advantage they had just gained.[[283]]
|845 to 859.|
Whether Hastings was present in the expedition to Spain may be doubted. There were several chiefs of the pirates, from all parts of Scandinavia; and while one was laying waste the maritime coasts of the South, others were equally active on those of France. Hastings, however, was at the head of the party which, proceeding by way of Fescamp and Rouen, extended its ravages over most of Neustria and Bretagne, and even to the gates of Paris. All France was in consternation. The monks especially were surprised that their holy relics had no power to arrest the progress of the barbarians. St. Martin had saved Tours; but there was no saint to defend the magnificent religious houses which were now destroyed by the Northmen. When the enemy approached, the monks retired with the relics, heaping curses loud and deep on these “men of hell,” these “spawn of the devil.” But their curses were ineffectual as their relics, and the tide of destruction flowed on. Many were the presents which the Carlovingian kings made to the invaders to remove the scourge. As in England, the money was received, but the depredations were only transferred to some other part of the kingdom. But, so many were the armaments which every year arrived from the North, and so many the chiefs to be bribed, that the resources of the country were insufficient for the purpose. It was probably this circumstance which led Hastings into the Mediterranean. He had heard of Rome; and the glory no less than the advantage of sacking that celebrated city, led him to the shores of Italy. On his way, he plundered the coasts of Spain, of Africa, and those of the islands which he passed. Disembarking in Tuscany, he assailed Luna, which he is absurdly said to have mistaken for Rome; and failing in his attempt to carry it by storm, he recurred to an experiment which we have more than once read in the history of the north. He caused the inhabitants to be informed that he was disgusted with his manner of life; that he would repent; that he was the victim of an incurable disease; that he wished to be baptized before his death. The credulous ecclesiastics obtained a suspension of hostilities, and prepared for the ceremony which was “to wash this Ethiop white.” On the day appointed, he was carried in a litter to the cathedral; and he acted his part to admiration. He received the holy rite with much appearance of devotion; all must see that his days were drawing to their close; and he begged that his bones might be deposited in one of the vaults beneath the church. That was sacred ground; and when surrounded by the ashes of saints and martyrs, he might hope to escape the pursuits of the evil one. Who could refuse so humble a request? He was borne to his ship, which he was scarcely expected to see alive. No sooner was he on board, than he cast away his disease, and mentioned to his followers the plan which he had devised for the capture of the city. In a short time, a loud cry of grief was heard on board his vessel; the neophyte was dead, and preparations were made for the funeral. When the day appointed by the clergy arrived, the coffin, attended by all the chiefs, and a great number of warriors, was slowly borne from the ship to the cathedral. It was placed on a bier, near the choir of the church, and the funeral service was commenced. The congregation to witness the ceremony was great; it comprised the bishop, the clergy, the governor, the military, and the principal inhabitants. Mass was sung; the funeral hymns were chaunted; prayers for the requiem of the new-born soul were humbly offered; and the attendants advanced to the bier to lower the corpse into its last resting-place. At this moment, Hastings arose; his warriors drew their swords from beneath their long cloaks, which were at once thrown on the pavement; the doors were fastened; the work of carnage commenced, and every one present was laid dead in the place. The city was easily won; the inhabitants were massacred; the most precious effects borne to the ships, and the city consumed by fire. This may seem to be romance rather than history; but it is attested by so many writers, and is so conformable with the character of the pagan Scandinavians at once violent and treacherous that we dare not wholly reject it. The circumstances may be embellished; but the foundation of the story is probably true.[[284]]
|858 to 863.|
While Hastings was in Italy, Biorn was pursuing the work of destruction in France. In vain did Charles the Bald endeavour to expel him from the kingdom. Arms being ineffectual, negotiation was tried, and for a large sum Biorn consented to leave France. On his return, feeling that he was indisposed, he landed on the coast, and there died. While the French were congratulating themselves on this unexpected deliverance, they were thrown into consternation by the news that Hastings was just returned from Italy, and renewing his ravages. A misfortune which he had sustained on the passage—that of being compelled through the violence of the storm to throw overboard his numerous captives and most precious effects—made him the more eager to repair his fortunes. Entering the Rhone, and forming another entrenchment, he sent or headed detachments, which plundered Arles, Nismes, and most of the towns between the Alps and the Pyrenees. While thus occupied, another formidable body in the Seine, which had not shared in the treaty made by Biorn, ravaged the country to the gates of Paris. A third soon landed from the north, and commenced its career by the destruction of Amiens; while a fourth was equally mischievous in Flanders. Charles had, as before, recourse to negotiation. To the party which had destroyed Amiens he engaged to pay three thousand pounds weight of fine gold—an immense sum, and surely an exaggeration. It is, however, certain that a heavy tax was levied on the whole kingdom, and that in twelve months it was not wholly collected. But while the negotiation was pending, other armaments arrived, and even the king began to perceive that to purchase the retreat of one while so many others were left to pursue their depredations, was great folly. The negotiation, consequently, assumed a new character: and the pirates were now to be paid, not for leaving the kingdom, but for assisting to expel other bodies of their countrymen from it. Accordingly, there followed some desultory hostilities between these kindred robbers: but while they were thus occupied, other bands were carrying their depredations into the heart of France. In the end, however, two of the armaments were persuaded to leave the shores—probably to join in the conquest of England, now governed by the feeble brothers of Alfred. But two yet remained that of Hastings, and one stationed in the Loire. As the former was so dreaded, his neutrality, at least, was to be purchased on any terms. The abbot of St. Denis repaired to the head quarters of the chief, and with some difficulty prevailed on him to accept the royal offers. These were, a large sum of money, and the fief of Chartres with the title of count, on the condition of his embracing Christianity, and, as a French vassal, of aiding his liege superior against all enemies. The conditions were accepted, and the fierce pirate of the Baltic became one of the noblest peers of France.[[285]]
|863 to 876.|
There now remained one piratical band only,—that on the Loire. As Paris had been more than once menaced, king Charles caused to be constructed on the Seine, below that city, a bridge, which was intended to arrest the progress of the hostile vessels, by its inability to admit the high masts. The writers of that period are minute in describing the excesses of these men, whom they accompany step by step. But the detail is tedious: in general they have more sympathy for churches and abbeys, than for the peasantry; and much louder is their cry when a solitary priest is massacred at the altar, or a sacred relic borne away, than when a town is put to the sword. No church, no monastery, no village or town was spared,—nothing which had not the means of self-defence. In 867 the robbers appeared in the vicinity of Paris: the bridge prevented their arriving under the walls; and they established their head quarters at the abbey of St. Denis. From thence they spread into the neighbouring country, and acquired immense booty. But a contagious disease appearing among them, and reducing their numbers, they slowly descended the river to wait for reinforcements, which were constantly arriving on the coast. But these reinforcements were now smaller than they had lately been: three fourths of all the pirates that swept the seas were in England, preparing to drive Alfred from the throne; and though those who remained in France effected great mischief, they would have been unable to resist any considerable body. They were not, however, inured to open campaigns: their hostilities were undertaken on a smaller scale,—were generally directed against some town or religious edifice where there was less danger of resistance; and when assailed (as was sometimes the case) by a much superior force, they retired into their fortified places. Angers, which they captured in 873, was one of these. On this occasion Charles the Bald exhibited an energy to which he was usually a stranger. He raised an army, marched to Angers, compelled the Northmen to evacuate it, and retire to their island entrenchments on the Loire. From this place their predatory excursions were resumed. But they are beneath the notice of history: they were undertaken, not for conquest, but for booty. The period, however, is arrived when we must accompany the exploits of one who did conquer, and who laid the foundation of a state powerful enough to effect the greatest revolutions in Europe.[[286]]
Rognevald was one of the jarls of Harald the Fair-haired. After serving his monarch in many difficult and dangerous enterprises, he fell in battle. Of his sons, one, Einar, became jarl of the Orkneys. Einar was an ambitious man. When Halfdan, a son of Harald, expelled him from their island, he obtained reinforcements in Scotland, returned to the charge, and deprived Halfdan of authority and life. Harald sailed to avenge the death of his son; but Einar was left in possession of the government. Not inferior to Einar in ambition or valour, was Hrolf, or Rollo,—the Rou of the Norman writers,—another son of Rognevald. According to the Icelandic sagas, he was so tall and so robust that no horse could carry him: hence his appellation of Hrolf Gangr, or the Walker. Like his ancestors, he passed his time on the deep, and enriched himself by his depredations on the shores of the Baltic. The death of his father, and the rebellion of his elder brother, made him probably less attached to the interests of Harald, or less obedient to his commands. It is certain that he ventured to do what had been so rigorously forbidden,—to make a piratical descent on the Norwegian coast. The monarch was in the town which Rollo endeavoured to sack; and his indignation at the attempt led him to banish the pirate for ever. Whether this could be much punishment to one whose life had been passed far from Norway may be doubted. Collecting as great a number of vessels as were willing to join him,—and the dignity of his family no less than his own prowess made him a popular chief,—he sailed for France. In his way he appears to have made some piratical descents on the Scottish and English coasts; and though he could not make much impression on either, he did what, in his present circumstances, was quite as advantageous—he loaded his ships with booty. Dudo of St. Quentin, and Wace, determined that the founder of the Norman dynasty shall be a favourite of heaven, introduce some visions and other miscellaneous appearances, which the historian must leave to the monastic chronicler. These are harmless, and may be despised; but when, to dignify the chief of some great family, history is perverted, a severer censure is necessary. Thus, Dudo (who is followed by many Norman writers) informs us that Rollo was powerful enough to become the ally and friend of Alfred; that by the Saxon monarch he was provided with a fleet to make war on the French king; that in gratitude for this aid he afterwards assisted Alfred—whom his subjects or the Danes had dethroned—to reascend the throne. How living writers could fall into the absurdity of receiving such statements, which are contrary to the unanimous voices of contemporary history, is surprising.[[287]]
|876 to 888.|