That there was at that time but a single king “in Francia” is of course untrue; but nevertheless it seems highly probable, when taken in connection with the subsequent history, that the princes who reigned over the different Frankish tribes established in Gaul belonged, at this period, to one family. And this is the truth which appears to lie at the foundation of the story of this mythical personage.
[429-451 A.D.]
The next important and well-established historical fact which we meet with in this dreary waste of doubt and conjecture, is the conquest of Cameracum (Cambray) by Clodion, in 429 A.D. This acquisition forms the third stage in the progress of the Salian Franks towards the complete possession of Gaul.
The foremost among the kindred chiefs of the different Frankish tribes at this period was Clodion, whom some modern historians, and among them Gibbon,[d] have represented, on the slenderest foundation, as the father of Merovæus, and first of the race of long-haired kings. Gregory of Tours[o] gives no countenance to the statement thus boldly made; he does not know that Merovæus was the son of Clodion, nor has he anything to say about Merovæus himself. That the power of Clodion was considerable is evinced by the magnitude of his undertakings. The growing numbers of the Franks in Gaul, continually increased by fresh swarms of settlers from their ancient seats, made an extension of their territory not merely desirable, but even necessary to their existence. Clodion therefore boldly undertook the conquest of the Belgica Secunda, a part of which was still in possession of the Romans. Having sent forward spies to Cameracum, and learned from them that it was insufficiently defended, he advanced upon that city, and succeeded in taking it. After spending a few days within the walls of his new acquisition, he marched as far as the river Samara (Somme). His progress was checked by Aëtius and Majorian, who surprised him in the neighbourhood of Arras, at a place called Helena (Lens), while celebrating a marriage, and forced him to retire. Yet at the end of the war, the Franks remained in full possession of the country which Clodion had overrun; and the Samara became the boundary of the Salian land upon the southwest, as it continued to be until the time of Clovis.
Clodion died in 447 A.D., and was thus saved from the equally pernicious alliance or enmity of the ruthless conqueror Attila. This “Scourge of God,” as he delighted to be called, appeared in Gaul about the year 450 A.D. at the head of an innumerable host of mounted Huns; a race so singular in their aspect and habits as to seem scarcely human, and compared with whom the wildest Franks and Goths must have appeared rational and civilised beings.
The time of Attila’s descent upon the Rhine was well chosen for the prosecution of his scheme of universal dominion. Between the fragment of the Roman Empire, governed by Aëtius, and the Franks under the successors of Clodion, there was either open war or a hollow truce. The succession to the chief power in the Salian tribe was the subject of a violent dispute between two Frankish princes, the elder of whom is supposed by some to have been called Merovæus.
We have seen that there is some reason to doubt the existence of a prince of this name; and there is no evidence that either of the rival candidates was a son of Clodion. Whatever their parentage or name may have been, the one took part with Attila, and the other with the Roman Aëtius, on condition, no doubt, of having their respective claims allowed and supported by their allies. In the bloody and decisive battle of the Catalaunian Fields round Châlons, Franks, under the name of Leti and Ripuarii, served under the so-called Merovæus in the army of Aëtius, together with Theodoric and his Visigoths. Among the forces of Attila another body of Franks was arrayed, either by compulsion, or instigated to this unnatural course by the fierce hatred of party spirit. From the result of the battle of Châlons, we must suppose that the ally of Aëtius succeeded to the throne of Clodion (451).
[451-481 A.D.]
The effects of the invasion of Gaul by Attila were neither great nor lasting, and his retreat left the German and Roman parties in much the same condition as he found them. The Roman Empire indeed was at an end in that province, yet the valour and wisdom of Ægidius enabled him to maintain, as an independent chief, the authority which he had faithfully exercised as master-general of Gaul, under the noble and virtuous Majorian. The extent of his territory is not clearly defined, but it must have been, in part at least, identical with that of which his son and successor, Syagrius, was deprived by Clovis. Common opinion limits this to the country between the Oise, the Marne, and the Seine, to which some writers have added Auxerre and Troyes. The respect in which Ægidius was held by the Franks, as well as his own countrymen, enabled him to set at defiance the threats and machinations of the barbarian Ricimer, who virtually ruled at Rome, though in another’s name. The strongest proof of the high opinion they entertained of the merits of Ægidius, is said to have been given by the Salians in the reign of their next king. The prince, to whom the name Merovæus has been arbitrarily assigned, was succeeded by his son Childeric, in 458 A.D. The conduct of this licentious youth was such as to disgust and alienate his subjects, who had not yet ceased to value female honour, nor adopted the loose manners of the Romans and their Gallic imitators.
The authority of the Salian kings over their fierce warriors was held by a precarious tenure. The loyalty which distinguished the Franks in later times had not yet arisen in their minds, and they did not scruple to send the corrupter of their wives and daughters into ignominious exile. Childeric took refuge with Bissinus (or Bassinus), king of the Thuringians, a people dwelling on the river Unstrut. It was then that the Franks, according to the somewhat improbable account of Gregory,[o] unanimously chose Ægidius for their king, and actually submitted to his rule for the space of eight years. At the end of that period, returning affection for their native prince, the mere love of change, or the machinations of a party, induced the Franks to recall Childeric from exile, or, at all events, to allow him to return.