Kitabı oku: «The Boys' Book of Rulers», sayfa 9

The Field of Mars had been chosen as the place for the funeral pile; but after the speech of Marc Antony in the Forum, where the body of Cæsar had been placed on a gilded bed covered with scarlet and cloth of gold, under a gorgeous canopy made in the form of a temple, the people in their wild outbursts of love for Cæsar, as they had then learned from his will, which Antony read aloud to them, of his munificent bequests to the Roman citizens, became ungovernable in their desires to do him reverence. As a crier, by Antony’s order, read the decrees of the Senate, in which all honors, human and divine, had been been ascribed to Cæsar, the gilded bed upon which he lay was lifted and borne out into the centre of the Forum; and two men, having forced their way through the crowd, with lighted torches set fire to the bed on which the body of Cæsar lay, and the multitudes with shouts of enthusiastic applause, seized everything within reach and placed them upon the funeral pile. The soldiers then threw on their lances and spears; musicians cast their instruments into the increasing flames; women tore off their jewels to add to the gorgeous pile, and all vied with each other to contribute something to enlarge the blazing funeral pile. So fierce were the flames that they spread to some of the neighboring buildings, and a terrible conflagration which would have given Cæsar the most majestic funeral pile in the annals of the world, for it would have been the blazing light from the burning city of Rome itself, was only prevented by the most strenuous efforts.

Some time after, Octavius Cæsar, the successor of Julius Cæsar, and Marc Antony, waged war with Cassius and Brutus; and at the battle of Philippi, where Cassius and Brutus were defeated, and while they were fleeing from the field, hopeless of further defence, they both killed themselves with their own swords.

Cæsar died at the age of fifty-six. The Roman people erected a column to his memory, on which they placed the inscription, “To the Father of His Country.” A figure of a star was placed upon the summit of this memorial shaft, and some time afterwards, while the people were celebrating some games in honor of Cæsar’s memory, a great comet blazed for seven nights in the sky, which they declared to be a sign that the soul of Cæsar was admitted among the gods.

CHARLEMAGNE
742-814 A.D

 
“To whom God will, there be the victory.”
 

Shakespeare.

THERE was great terror and dismay among the inhabitants of the city of Paris, called in those early days, Lutetia.

The Gauls, who dwelt in that part of the country, were now menaced by a foe even more terrible than the Roman soldiers led by the famous Julius Cæsar, who had invaded their land about 500 years before, and made their country a Roman province.

But now a fearful war-cry rings through the air; and as the frightened Gauls hastily arm themselves for resistance, a horde of Teutonic giants, with light complexions, long yellow hair waving in the wind, and eyes so bright and cat-like that they fairly shone with a green glare of animal-like ferocity, which was heightened by their clothing made of the skins of the bear, the boar, and the wolf, making them look in the distance like a herd of wild beasts, came rushing like an avalanche of destruction over the peaceful homes of the Gauls. These hordes advanced in a mighty wedge-like phalanx, formed of their bravest warriors, each man carrying in his right hand a long lance, and in the left a buckler, or skin-covered shield, while his girdle held a sharp two-edged axe, which became, with dexterous handling, a most dangerous weapon, and was hurled from a distance with marvellous aim. With mounted warriors protecting the wings of this invincible phalanx, on came this fierce, wild tribe, charging to battle with a terrible war-whoop, which they made more shrill by placing the edge of the buckler to the mouth.

In vain the Gauls looked to Rome for help. There was too much trouble in Italy for the Roman government to help any one. So these giant Franks came rushing unchecked on to Paris, while the frightened Gauls were powerless to resist them. The leader of this horde was called Hilperik, the son of Meerwig; and having taken possession of Paris, and several surrounding provinces, he founded the kingdom afterwards called France, from this tribe who were called Franks.

The story of kings is too often a story of blood and cruelty, and the kingdom which the great Charlemagne inherited had been the scene of fearful and continual conflicts.

The Goths, one of the fierce German nations, had conquered a large part of Gaul after it had become a Roman province, and in the year 451, the Huns, a more terrible nation still, whose chief was the famous Attila, who called himself the “Scourge of God,” invaded Gaul with his army, – horrible looking men, whose faces had been gashed by their savage parents in their infancy, that they might look more dreadful. The poor Gauls thought rightly, that it was more fearful to fall into their hands than into those of the Franks; but the Huns came no further than Orleans, where an army, composed of Gauls, Franks, Goths, Burgundians, all under the Roman general Ætius, attacked the Huns at Châlons-sur-Marne, beat them, and drove them back. Châlons was the last victory in Gaul, won under the Roman banners, and now the poor Gauls were obliged to meet their enemies alone. The chief tribes of those warlike races, who swarmed over Europe, both north and south, were the Goths who conquered Rome, and settled in Spain; the Longbeards or Lombards, who spread over the north of Italy; the Burgundians, or town-livers, who held all the country around the Alps; the Swabians and Germans, who stayed in the middle of Europe; the Saxons, who dwelt south of the Baltic, and finally conquered South Britain; the Northmen, who found a home in Scandinavia; and the Franks, who had been long settled on the rivers Sale, Meuse, and Rhine. Their name meant freemen, and they were noted for using an axe, called after them. Of the Franks there were two noted tribes, – the Salian, from the river Sale, and the Ripuarian. They were great horsemen, and the Salians had a family of kings, who were supposed to have descended from one of their warlike gods, called Odin. Although the Franks were a ferocious and sometimes cruel race, they were in some respects superior to the other barbaric tribes, and were liked better by the Gauls than any other of those various nations.

After Cæsar’s conquest many of the Romans had remained in Gaul, and had built and conquered cities, and lived under Roman laws. They taught the Gauls to speak Latin, and organized many schools and colleges among them. The Gauls adopted the Roman dress and religion. The religion of the ancient Gauls had been taught to the people by priests, called Druids. Druidism was a confusion of mingled ideas of Oriental dreams and traditions, borrowed from the mythologies of the East and the North; and although it was degraded by barbaric practices such as human sacrifices in honor of the gods or of the dead, it possessed one germ of truth, for the Druids believed in the immortality of the soul. Their priests were old and wise men, who had studied often for twenty years before they were considered wise enough to become “Men of the Oak,” as the chief Druids were called. They made laws for the people and settled questions of dispute. Once every year the Druids went out to look for the mistletoe, which they considered a sacred plant. When a mistletoe was found growing upon an oak, the people came from all parts of the country and stood around the tree. Then a Druid, clothed in white, climbed up the oak-tree, and cut off the sacred mistletoe with a golden sickle, and the much prized plant was caught by the other Druids below, in a white cloth, and was carried away to be preserved as a great treasure.

But the Gauls living in those provinces conquered by the Romans, had given up their old Druidical religion, and adopted that of their conquerors, which was no improvement, for it was also a paganism, and was such a mass of superstition and idolatry, derived from Grecian mythology and old traditions, that it did not even possess the vital force of the Druidical belief. For the Druids worshipped, as they thought, living deities, while the Græco-Roman paganism was a dead religion, with only dead gods, buried beneath their still standing altars. Such were the superstitions and false religions with which the Christians of the early centuries had to contend in laboring to convert the then known world to the worship of the one true and living God and His Son Jesus Christ, who had already lived his holy life upon this earth, and given himself a sacrifice for the salvation of mankind. Already the disciples of Christ had founded Christian churches in Asia Minor and Palestine, and many of them had died as martyrs for the faith. St. Paul had preached at Athens and at Rome, and having finished his glorious work he had received his crown of martyrdom. And all down these early centuries teachers had been sent out by the Christian churches, to endeavor to convert the heathen world around to a belief in the one true and only religion which could secure the salvation of the immortal soul. The Roman emperors had all persecuted the Christians and sought to uphold paganism. But when B.C. 312, the Emperor Constantine declared himself a Christian, “paganism fell, and Christianity mounted the throne.” Previous to the conquest of Gaul by the Franks, the Gauls had adopted Christianity, and when Hilperik, king of the Franks, conquered Paris and the surrounding country, and at his death left this kingdom to his son, named Hlodwig, or Clovis, there were many Christians and churches and monasteries in Gaul. Clovis conquered many of the surrounding provinces, and at last became the ruler of nearly the whole of Gaul. Clovis had married a Burgundian maiden, named Clothilda, and as she was a Christian he allowed her to worship God in the Christian churches. But in the great battle of Tolbiacum, which Clovis fought with the Germans, when it seemed as though the Franks would be defeated, Clovis took an oath that if the God of his wife would give him the victory he would become a Christian. The Franks were victorious, and Clovis was baptized with all his chief warriors.

When Clovis died, he left four sons, among whom he divided his kingdom. One was the king of Paris; another, king of Orleans; a third, king of Soissons; and the fourth, who reigned over that part of Gaul nearest Germany and the Rhine, was called king of Metz. In a battle with the Burgundians, the king of Orleans, Clodomir, was killed, leaving three young sons who were placed in the care of their grandmother Clothilda. At length the kings of Paris and Soissons became jealous of these children of their elder brother Clodomir, and sent for the children, under pretence of placing them upon the throne of their father. But as soon as they had them in their cruel power, they sent a pair of scissors and a sword to Clothilda, with a message, saying: “We wait thy wishes as to the three children; shall they be slain or shorn?” meaning, shall they be killed or shut up in monasteries? Clothilda, in despair, cried out: “Slain, rather than shorn!” and the messengers, not waiting to hear her further words, returned to the cruel kings, and announced that they had secured the consent of Clothilda for the shocking deed. The wicked kings then hastily entered the room where the three helpless boys were imprisoned, and having slain the eldest, the second one clung to the knees of his uncle Childebert, king of Paris, who was for a moment moved with pity, and asked his brother Clotaire to spare the boy. But the wicked Clotaire, king of Soissons, exclaimed in wrath, “Thrust him away or thou diest in his stead!” Whereupon, Childebert tried no more to save him, and Clotaire seized the poor boy, who was now shrieking with terror, and plunged a hunting-knife into his side, as he had his brother’s, and slew him. These murdered children were only ten and seven years old. The third brother was snatched up by some brave friends, and hidden away where the cruel uncles could not find him. He was afterwards placed in a monastery, and became a monk, and founded a monastery near Paris, called after him, St. Cloud. After the sons of Clovis there followed a line of kings in France called the Meerwings, or long-haired kings, known in history as the Merovingians; and only two of them are important enough to be mentioned, and those only on account of their crimes. One of the sons of Clovis left four sons; and two of these, named Hilperik and Siegbert, married the two daughters of the king of the Goths, in Spain. These sisters were called Galswinth and Brunehild. Hilperik loved a slave girl he owned, named Fredegond, and either with or without his consent, his wife Galswinth was found strangled in her bed, and he afterwards married the murderess, Fredegond, who, though most atrociously wicked, became a powerful queen. Brunehild persuaded her husband Siegbert to make war upon Hilperik, to avenge the death of her sister. Hilperik was defeated, but the Queen Fredegond contrived to have Siegbert murdered, and afterwards killed her husband’s other children, thus leaving her own son heir to the throne. She then ordered her husband also to be put to death, so that she could reign alone in the name of her infant son. The four kingdoms left by Clovis had been now merged into three, – Neustria, which is now the north of France; Austrasia, which is now the north-east corner of France, and part of Belgium, and part of the western side of Germany; and the third kingdom was called Burgundy. The Neustrians and the Austrasians were usually at war with each other, the Burgundians taking now one side of the quarrel and now the other. Queen Fredegond’s part of Gaul was Neustria, while Queen Brunehild governed Austrasia. But Brunehild quarrelled with the chiefs of the country; and after many years of wars, plots, and murders, she was at last brutally killed by the son of Fredegond, who became king of all the Franks; and in Neustria every one obeyed him; but in Austrasia the great chiefs and bishops were opposed to him. The bishops had by this time become rich and powerful, for a great amount of land had been left to the church by the wills of dying Christians, or as gifts from kings and chiefs. When Clotaire, son of Fredegond, died, he left two sons; one of them named Dagobert made himself master of Neustria and Austrasia, and gave his brother land in the south part of the country, which had not been visited before by a Frankish king. Dagobert took Paris for his chief town; he made himself a splendid court, took journeys through his kingdom, doing justice to his subjects, and encouraged the building of churches, and had copies of the old Frankish laws written out and sent throughout his kingdom. The people liked him; but the powerful chiefs and the bishops, who had become so worldly that they thought a great deal more about piling up riches than in turning the people to Christianity, were filled with dismay to have so wise and just a king, who was fast gaining a great power over the people. After ten years Dagobert died and left two sons; one was king of Austrasia; and the younger king of Neustria. After these, there followed three more kings in Neustria, and four in Austrasia, but they had no power, and were only called kings, while the government was really in the hands of a new set of men, from which line the illustrious Charlemagne sprang. The chief man next the king in these countries was called the Mayor of the Palace. He had the chief command in times of war, and at last became in truth the sovereign ruler; and they only put up one of their do-nothing kings as a figure-head. After the death of Dagobert, there was no other Frankish king of any importance in the line of the Merovingians. The Fainéants, or do-nothing kings, as they were called, sat on the throne and pretended to rule, but the mayor of the palace told them what they must say to the people and what they must do. This went on for nearly a hundred years. When Dagobert died, the mayor of the palace was named Pepin, and through several reigns he really governed both Austrasia and Neustria. He made war against the Germans, and sometimes when they were very troublesome he went with an army and subdued them; and at other times he sent monks to try and convert them to Christianity. When Pepin died, his son Karl became the mayor of the palace. Now Karl wished to secure money to give to his chiefs, so that they would fight for him, and so he took away from the bishops the rich lands which belonged to the church, and gave them to his warriors. Karl had first to fight the Saxons, whom he defeated, and then there appeared a new foe. The Arabs lived in Arabia, on the east side of the Red Sea, in Asia.

They had always been a poor, wandering people. But about one hundred and fifty years before this time, an Arab had appeared among his countrymen, claiming to be a mighty prophet, and teaching them a new religion. It was not the Christian religion; but this man, who was named Mohammed, claimed that he had been sent by God to teach the people; and so the religion he proclaimed was called Mohammedanism. Now the Arabs had never left their own country before, but they determined to go forth and conquer the world, and make all the nations Mohammedans. They conquered Persia, Egypt, Spain, and a part of Africa. When they overcame any nation, if the people would consent to become Mohammedans, the Arabs treated them with kindness; but if they refused, they made slaves of them, and sometimes put them to death. Having conquered Spain, the Arabs wished to become masters of France.

When they had passed the Pyrenees, Karl went forth to meet them. There was a great battle, known in history as the Battle of Tours, and at length Karl conquered the Mohammedans, and drove them out of France. Some accounts state that three hundred thousand Arabs were killed.

This mayor of the palace has been called Karl the Hammer, or in French, Charles Martel, in memory of the blows he inflicted upon these Mohammedan enemies. He was afterwards called the Duke of the Franks.

In the time of Charles Martel, several kings became monks. An English monk named Winfrid had been sent by the Pope and Charles Martel to preach to the Saxons. After persuading thousands of the people to be baptized, this monk was made bishop and then archbishop. But he thought more of converting the heathen than of wearing honors, and leaving his bishopric to another, he went forth into a wild part of the country to preach Christianity. When a large number of people had assembled to be baptized, an armed force of the heathen attacked them, killing Winfrid and all the Christian people. This good monk is called also St. Boniface.

After the death of Charles Martel his two sons ruled for six years together, and then one of them went into a monastery, leaving the younger, Pepin, who now became the only duke of the Franks.

The people began to think it absurd to have a useless set of lazy, do-nothing, Merovingian, or long-haired kings, who were only puppets in the hands of the reigning duke. So Pepin, also called Le Bref, or the Short, asked the Pope to make him king, instead of the figure-head who sat upon the throne, who at that time bore the name of Hilperik. The answer of the Pope was, “He who has the power ought also to have the name of king.”

As the Pope had thus consented to the change, all the Franks were delighted, and they took the useless king from his throne, cut off his long yellow hair, which was his sign of royalty, and shut him up in a monastery. He died two years afterwards, and was the last of the Merovingian kings.

Pepin was now crowned by St. Boniface, as this event preceded the death of that king, and thus he became the first of the Carlovingian kings, so called from Carolus, the Latin for Charles, which was the name of Pepin’s father, and his still greater son.

Pepin now aided the Pope by marching into Italy and fighting the Lombards; and having conquered them, he took their lands and gave them to the Pope, which property afterwards descended from one pope to another, so that the popes at last became masters of quite a kingdom in Italy. Pepin also besieged a town in Southern Gaul, belonging to the Arabs, and after seven years captured it, and drove the Arabs over the Pyrenees, into Spain. He reigned for sixteen years, and dying left his kingdom to his two sons Karl and Karloman, who divided it between them; but Karloman lived but three years, when Karl became the king of France.

While his Austrasian subjects, who spoke German, called him Karl, the Neustrians, whose language was a mingling of the Latin and the German, which has since become the French language, called him Charles; and after he became so famous, the Latin word magnus, meaning great, was added, and Charles-Magnus thus became the Charlemagne of history.

Very little can be learned regarding the early life of Charlemagne. One of the old writers, named Eginhard, who afterwards became the secretary of Charlemagne, records that neither he himself, nor any one then living, knew anything about the birth of this prince, nor about his infancy, nor even youth. His father, King Pepin, had his two sons associated with himself, when he received the title of king from the Bishop of Rome; but neither of them received any separate government during their father’s life. They were taught, with the other young nobles, by Peter of Pisa, whom Pepin retained at his court for this purpose. It is supposed that King Pepin took the young princes with him in his Italian expeditions, and that Charlemagne accompanied his father in the Aquitanian war. When King Pepin died, his eldest son was twenty-six years and a half old, while the younger was barely nineteen. Both were already married to wives of the Frank race. Charles, or Charlemagne, to Himiltrude, and Carloman to Gerberge.

The first battle in which Charlemagne engaged was soon after his father’s death, with the Aquitanians, who were the people living in the south-west part of France. The brother-kings raised troops to meet them, but Carloman through jealousy withdrew his forces, leaving Charlemagne to carry on the war alone. He was victorious, and the Aquitanians submitted. The queen-mother Bertrada now used her influence to secure a permanent alliance between the Lombards and the Franks, and persuaded Charlemagne to divorce his wife and marry Desiderata, the daughter of Didier the Lombard king. This Charlemagne consented to do, even against the advice of the Pope, and he suffered for his folly, or wickedness; for so it was, even though his mother did sanction it, for he was so unhappy with Desiderata, that in about a year he put her away and married Hildegarde. In those days kings married and divorced their wives as often as they pleased, and Charlemagne, with all his greatness and his aid to Christianity, was in this particular very culpable, and his domestic life was not at all in keeping with the majesty, and goodness, and uprightness of his public life. After the death of Hildegarde, he married two other wives. One Fastrada, an Austrasian, was a very wicked woman, and caused him much trouble. The last one, whom he loved the most, was named Luitgarda. She was kind and gentle, and her influence over Charlemagne was very beneficial after the wicked Fastrada had led him into so much trouble. The French have an old legend, which relates that the evil influence which Fastrada exercised over the strong mind of the great king, leading him to acts of injustice and tyranny, which alienated the affections of his nobles, was due to the magic spell of a ring which she wore. On her death, the ring came into possession of a bishop, for whom Charlemagne immediately showed such admiration, that the bishop found it unpleasant, and cast the ring into a neighboring lake. Here it also exercised its magic charm, and the king would sit for hours gazing into the waters of the lake, as though spell-bound. But this legend cannot disguise the weak side of Charlemagne’s character, and we can only turn from it and fix our attention upon his great career.

He was one of the wisest and most powerful of kings. His life was one of constant war. He fought the Saxons for thirty-three years, but at last he conquered Witikind, the great Saxon leader, in 785, and persuaded him to be baptized. Charlemagne made him Duke of Saxony, and he lived in good faith to the new vows he had taken. Notwithstanding this victory over the Saxons, Charlemagne foresaw the evils which should come upon Europe through the formidable Northmen. The monk of St. Gall relates this incident: “Charlemagne arrived unexpectedly in a certain town of Narbonnese Gaul. Whilst he was at dinner, and was as yet unrecognized of any, some corsairs of the Northmen came to ply their piracies in the very port. When their vessels were descried, they were supposed to be Jewish traders according to some, African according to others, and British in the opinion of others; but the gifted monarch perceiving by the build and lightness of the craft that they bare not merchandise, but foes, said to his own folk, ‘These vessels be not laden with merchandise, but manned with cruel foes.’ At these words, all the Franks, in rivalry one with another, ran to their ships, but uselessly, for the Northmen, indeed, hearing that yonder was he whom it was still their wont to call Charles the Hammer, feared lest all their fleet should be taken or destroyed in the port, and they avoided by a flight of inconceivable rapidity not only the blows, but even the eyes of those who were pursuing them.

“Pious Charles, however, a prey to well-grounded fear, rose up from table, stationed himself at a window looking eastward, and there remained a long while, and his eyes were filled with tears. As none durst question him, this warlike prince explained to the grandees who were about his person the cause of his movement and of his tears. ‘Know ye, my lieges, wherefore I weep so bitterly? Of a surety I fear not lest these fellows should succeed in injuring me by their miserable piracies; but it grieveth me deeply that whilst I live, they should have been nigh to touching at this shore, and I am a prey to violent sorrow when I foresee what evils they will heap upon my descendants and their people.’”

But during all the years of the Saxon wars, Charlemagne had been carrying on various campaigns elsewhere. The Lombards were again at war with the Popes, and the king of Lombards, Didier, whose daughter Charlemagne had married and so soon divorced, had now become his bitter foe. The new Pope, Adrian I., sought the aid of Charlemagne in this war with the Lombards, and he prepared for this Italian expedition. He raised two armies, – one to cross the Valais and descend upon Lombardy by Mount St. Bernard, and the other, to be led by Charlemagne, was to go by the way of Mount Cenis. Didier had with him a famous Dane, named Ogier, who had quarrelled with Charlemagne and taken refuge in Lombardy. One of the monks of that time thus describes Charlemagne’s arrival before Pavia, where Didier and the Dane Ogier had shut themselves up, as it was the strongest place in Lombardy.

“When Didier and Ogger (for so the monk calls him) heard that the dread monarch was coming, they ascended a tower of vast height, whence they could watch his arrival from afar off and from every quarter. They saw, first of all, engines of wars, such as must have been necessary for the armies of Darius or Julius Cæsar. ‘Is not Charles,’ asked Didier of Ogger, ‘with this great army?’ But the other answered, ‘No.’ The Lombard, seeing afterwards an immense body of soldiery gathered from all quarters of the vast empire, said to Ogger, ‘Certes, Charles advanceth in triumph in the midst of this throng.’ ‘No, not yet; he will not appear so soon,’ was the answer. ‘What should we do, then,’ rejoined Didier, who began to be perturbed, ‘should he come accompanied by a larger band of warriors?’ ‘You will see what he is when he comes,’ replied Ogger; ‘but as to what will become of us I know nothing.’ As they were thus parleying appeared the body of guards that knew no repose, and at this sight the Lombard, overcome with dread, cried, ‘This time ’tis surely Charles.’ ‘No,’ answered Ogger, ‘not yet.’ In their wake came the bishops, the abbots, the ordinaries of the chapels royal, and the counts; and then Didier, no longer able to bear the light of day or to face death, cried out with groans, ‘Let us descend and hide ourselves in the bowels of the earth, far from the face and the fury of so terrible a foe.’ Trembling the while, Ogger, who knew by experience what were the power and might of Charles, and who had learned the lesson by long usage in better days, then said, ‘When ye shall behold the crops shaking for fear in the fields, and the gloomy Po and the Ticino overflowing the walls of the city with their waves blackened with steel (iron), then may ye think that Charles is coming.’ He had not ended these words when there began to be seen in the west, as it were, a black cloud, raised by the north-west wind or by Boreas, which turned the brightest day into awful shadows. But as the emperor drew nearer and nearer, the gleam of arms caused to shine on the people shut up within the city a day more gloomy than any kind of night. And then appeared Charles himself, that man of steel, with his head encased in a helmet of steel, his hands garnished with gauntlets of steel, his heart of steel and his shoulders of marble protected by a cuirass of steel, and his left hand armed with a lance of steel which he held aloft in the air, for as to his right hand, he kept that continually on the hilt of his invincible sword. The outside of his thighs, which the rest for their greater ease in mounting a horseback were wont to leave unshackled even by straps, he wore encircled by plates of steel. What shall I say concerning his boots? All the army were wont to have them invariably of steel; on his buckler there was nought to be seen but steel; his horse was of the color and the strength of steel. All those who went before the monarch, all those who marched at his side, all those who followed after, even the whole mass of the army, had armor of the like sort, so far as the means of each permitted. The fields and the highways were covered with steel; the points of steel reflected the rays of the sun; and this steel, so hard, was borne by a people with hearts still harder. The flash of steel spread terror throughout the streets of the city. ‘What steel! alack, what steel!’ Such were the bewildered cries the citizens raised. The firmness of manhood and of youth gave way at sight of the steel, and the steel paralyzed the wisdom of the gray beards. That which I, poor tale-teller, mumbling and toothless, have attempted to depict in a long description, Ogger perceived at one rapid glance, and said to Didier, ‘Here is what ye have so anxiously sought’; and whilst uttering these words he fell down almost lifeless.”