CHARLEMAGNE only took repose in order to give others an opportunity of resting. The chronicles tell us that he used to break off his slumbers four or five times during the night, rise, dress himself, and dispatch some matters of business. At Paderborn he occupied a chamber on the ground floor, and was often seized with the inclination to go down into the park, where, being alone with his thoughts, he used to allow himself to become lost in reverie.

One beautiful night in the spring he perceived in the heavens what seemed like an immense causeway, paved with stars, which commenced above the Gulf of Friesland and disappeared about the Galician frontier, passing over Germany, Aquitaine, Gascony, and Navarre.

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Little by little there seemed to him to glitter an unusual number of luminaries; they increased in size, changed their forms, and began to move all in the same direction from the northeast to the south-west, and presently he beheld, moving across the heavens, crowds of armed warriors. He had mistaken for stars the glint of the moon upon their armour. For a whole hour troop succeeded troop; the horses, excited to a mad ardour, galloped among the clouds, raising a dust of star-sparkles with their hoofs. Then all became motionless as at first. The night grew dark and silent, and Charles, lost in reflection, turned his eyes to earth. The sight he saw froze for some seconds the blood in his veins. It appeared like a moving light, which had assumed a human shape—a lingering sunbank forgotten by the twilight, and animated by some supernatural power. It advanced slowly, its outline showing clearly against the darkness of the park. At last the Emperor could distinguish a form more beautiful than is granted to the mortal inhabitants of the globe. The figure spoke, and the air became laden with odours. Its voice hushed the songs of the nightingales, who perched on the boughs to listen.

“My son, why have you forgotten me?”

“My lord, who are you?” inquired Charles.

“I am St. James, the apostle, the brother of St. John the Evangelist.”

The Emperor fell on his knees.

“You called upon me at the tournament of Fronsac, and promised me a chapel in exchange for Oliver’s life, and I heard you. Oliver lives, and nine years have passed and still my bones lie in Galicia, forgotten by Christians and given up to Saracens. You have led your legions to the Roman shores, to the ocean, and to the Gulf of Friesland. One part of Europe only have you omitted to visit: it is that where my bones are laid, and to which you swore to me to make an expedition in my honour. I am sent to you from above. If Heaven makes you the most powerful among the mighty ones of earth, it is that you may accomplish its designs. Arise, then; rescue my remains from profane hands, and open the route for pilgrims to my shrine. Arm your brave Franks, Lombards, Saxons, and Austrians, and march straight for the Saracens of Spain. I shall be with you in danger, and by-and-by you will find me ready to conduct you to Heaven.”

The vision vanished. Two hours later Eginhard, coming to seek Charlemagne, found him still upon his knees in the park praying, with tears in his eyes.

Original Size -- Medium-Size

Original Size -- Medium-Size