feudal chief of the tenth century. He died near Saumur, while besieging the castle of a refractory vassal, in the year 987.
His son Foulques was surnamed Nerra, an old form of Le Noir, or The Black. The name was derived from his complexion; but he merited it by his disposition, for he was the most wicked of all the counts of Anjou. He was very able, and, though little in stature, and lame, usually made his wars turn out much to his advantage. In personal prowess he by no means equalled his father; indeed, there was a Danish warrior, who guarded the town of Saumur for the Count de Blois, that he dreaded so much as always to gallop at full speed through the neighborhood, whenever he was obliged to pass that way. However, he was not backward to risk his person on occasion, and in a battle with the Count de Blois at Amboise was severely wounded, his standard taken, and his troops forced to retreat, when his vassal, the alert Herbert _Eveille chiens_, of Mans, came up with fresh troops, fell on the men of Blois as they were bathing and resting after the battle, cried the Angevin war-cry,' Rallie! rallie!' [Footnote: 'Go at then again!' evidently the origin of 'to rally.'] and taking them by surprise, turned the fortune of the day. This victory extended Foulques' domain to the bank of the Loire, and enabled him to lay siege to Saumur. The citizens were too few to defend both gates, and, by the advice of the monks of St. Florent, resolved to commit the defence of one to the relics of St. Doucelin, which had the reputation of working miracles. The reliquary was placed full before the eastern gate, in the hope that either the Augevins would be afraid to break through, or that some evil consequence might ensue on their attempting it, and the Saumurois went to protect their western gate. However, Foulques Nerra seldom let scruples interfere, and marched in without regard to the saint. He was very cruel to his prisoners, and with his own hand thrust out the eye of one who reproached him with his unworthy treatment. He built new walls round Saumur, for which he was obliged to destroy some buildings belonging to the monastery of St. Florent, and as he set fire to them with his own hand, he called out to the saint to beg his pardon, swearing to build him a much finer house.
It was the practice of Foulques Nerra to commit frightful crimes, and then to expect to atone for them by vehemence in penance and devotion. He was recklessly barbarous in his wars, and a cruel tyrant to his people, filling his castle with miserable prisoners. He married a lady named Hildegarde, a pious and gentle dame, whose influence had some effect in calming his fierce passions and lessening his cruelty; but their son Geoffrey Martel was as wild and violent as himself, though with more generosity. A quarrel broke out, Geoffrey rebelled, was conquered, and his father obliged him to come and ask pardon, crawling on all fours, with a saddle on his back.
'So, sir, you're tamed!' said the count, putting his foot on his neck.
'True! but by no one but my father,' the proud youth made answer. And Foulques was so pleased, that he took him into favor again.
Foulques Nerra was a great founder of churches and convents, and made no less than four pilgrimages to the Holy Land, in the third of which he travelled part of the way with another ancestor of our kings, Robert the Magnificent of Normandy. In the last, his penance exceeded all that had yet been seen at Jerusalem. He stripped himself to his waist, and went barefoot to the Holy Sepulchre, followed by two servants, whom he obliged to beat him with rods, while at each step he exclaimed, 'O Lord, have pity on the wretched, perjured traitor Foulques!'
Such violent penances are repugnant to all our ideas, and if these rude warriors believed that by them their crimes could be atoned, they were grievously mistaken: but at the same time it must be remembered that they were intended as tokens of repentance; and that, as we have seen in the humiliation of the rebellious son of the count himself, it was the fashion to punish the body, because the mind was too little cultivated to be alone addressed.
Foulques III. died at Metz, in the course of his return from this pilgrimage, in the year 1039. His son Geoffrey, called Martel, or the Hammer, was a great warrior. William the Conqueror was his chief enemy, and the curious challenge that once passed between them has been related. Indeed, Henry I. of France, who was in dread of both, promoted their quarrels by making a grant to William of all that he might be able to win from Anjou; and the Angevins had given bitter offence to the Duke of Normandy when he was besieging the town of Hambrieres, by hanging up hides over the walls, and shouting, '_A la pel! a la pel!_' (The hide! the hide!) in allusion to his mother being the daughter of a tanner.
Their chief dispute was about the county of Maine-a name of evil omen to their descendants. The only daughter of Count Herbert _Eveille chiens_ (Wake-dog) was betrothed to Robert Courtheuse; and though she died before the marriage took place, William claimed the county for his son on Herbert's death. Geoffrey, who was the feudal lord of Maine, took the part of the next heir, and invaded Normandy. On the river Dive, Geoffrey, with his chief followers, was imprudent enough to cross by a narrow bridge, leaving the main body of the troops on the other side, where they were attacked by William. The bridge gave way, and the Angevin army was destroyed in the sight of its lord.
This disaster broke the spirit of Geoffrey Martel. He was still a young man, but he was worn out with disappointment. He had been twice married-the second time to a very learned lady, named Grecia, who is famous for having bought a book of homilies for two hundred sheep, twelve measures of cheese, as much barley and millet, besides eight marks of silver and some marten skins. Neither wife brought him any children: and at Whitsuntide, 1060, he sent for his two nephews, the sons of his sister Ermengarde, and divided his lands between them; giving Touraine and Landon to the eldest, Geoffrey the Bearded, and Anjou to Foulques, called _Le Rechin_, or The Quarrelsome, then only seventeen, whom he knighted. He died the next Martinmas, in the robes of a monk; and thenceforth Foulques proved his right to his surname by his perpetual wars and disputes with his brother. Geoffrey _le Barbu_ is famed for nothing but his misfortunes, and for a curious suit which he had with the monks of St. Florent respecting some woods on the banks of the Loire, which they declared to have been granted them by Foulques Nerra. They brought witnesses to support their claim, as they had no title-deeds; and Geoffrey agreed to have recourse to the judgment of Heaven, as a proof whether the testimony was true or false. The ordeal was to be by hot water. A great fire was lighted in the Church of St. Maurice, at St. Angers, and a cauldron of water placed on it, into which was plunged an old forester who had borne witness for the convent. Without appearing to suffer inconvenience from the heat, he repeated what he had formerly said and Geoffrey was obliged to abide by the result of the ordeal. The monks proceeded to cut down the woods, and supplied their place by the vineyards which have ever since been the pride of the Loire.
The strife respecting lay investiture was the ruin of the bearded Geoffrey; he claimed the investiture of the Abbot of Marmoutiers as a temporal baron, and thus caused himself to be excommunicated. His vassals fell from him and he became an easy prey to his brother Foulques, who threw him into the castle of Chinon, and kept him prisoner for thirty years.
Foulques IV., le Rechin, was a scholar, and wrote a Latin history of Anjou, of which, however, only a fragment is preserved. He was as wicked as most of the race, fierce, violent, and voluptuous. He was no longer a young man, and had been twice married and once divorced (one tradition says that he was the husband of the demon- countess), when, in 1089, he cast his eyes on the beautiful young Bertrade, daughter of the Count de Montfort, and promised Duke Robert of Normandy to make over to him the county of Maine, if he would use his influence with her parents to obtain her for him.
The Count de Montfort would not give up his daughter to the wicked old Angevin, till Robert, in his usual weak, good-natured fashion, had yielded up a number of his own frontier castles as her purchase. Foulques did indeed put Maine into his hands; but he did not keep it long, for Helie de la Fleche set up his claim, and maintained it as we have seen. Nor did Foulques gain much by his bargain; for Bertrade had no perfection but her beauty, and, in the fourth year of her marriage, abandoned him and her infant son, and went to the court of Philippe I. of France, who had lately grown weary of his queen Bertha, the mother of his four children, and had shut her up in the castle of Montreuil.
Philippe found some pretext for declaring that his first marriage and Bertrade's were both null and void; but not one French bishop could be found to solemnize the disgraceful union he desired. He was obliged to look beyond his own dominion, and it is said that it was the brother of the Conqueror, Odo, Bishop of Bayeux, who consented to pronounce a blessing over their marriage.
They were not, however, allowed to sin unmolested. Bertrade's husband made war on them on one side, Bertha's brother on the other. Philippe's son Louis fled to the protection of the English; and the Pope laid them under excommunication. For nine years, however, they persisted in their crime; but at last they made a show of penitence; the King pretended to renounce Bertrade, and they were absolved.
Bertrade had forsaken her child; but she was very anxious that he should succeed his father, instead of his
