But what are the characteristic traits of the Norman as we find him in his early habitat in France? We are told by a contemporary observer—Geoffrey Malaterra—that the typical or "composite" Norman of his day was prodigiously astute, a passionate lover of litigation, an eloquent speaker, skilled in diplomacy, sagacious in council, convincing in debate; a son of the Church, but not too deferential to prelates nor too precise in the observance of ecclesiastical forms; a bold and tireless litigant, but not over-scrupulous in his methods of procedure and not always strictly judicial in his construction of the law. "If he was born a soldier," said Edward Freeman, "he was also a born lawyer." In spite of this pronounced legal penchant he was swift (if not restrained) to disregard and override the law; in the phrase of the old chronicler, the gens was effrenatissima—recklessly wild, unbridled and dangerous, nisi jugo justitiÆ prematur; daring, resolute, destructive in mutiny or revolt; seditious, piratical or even revolutionary, unless the reins of government were in strong and competent hands.

We had a notable mid-century exemplification of this "unbridled" quality of temper in the introductory razzia of Lopez at Cardenas. When the Kentuckians, whose unerring rifles had crumpled up the Spanish cavalry and successfully covered the slow retreat of Lopez to the sea, were followed by the pursuing warship Pizarro into the harbor of Key West, nothing daunted they coolly seized the United States fort, took possession of its batteries, and deliberately trained its guns upon the Spanish man-of-war. Gens effrenatissima, indeed. The fighting habits of the Liberators were notoriously loose (especially under tropical suns); but what is to be particularly noted in this instance is, that the reins of power in our highly civilized government were unpardonably lax. It is possible, however, that the reckless and "unbridled" conduct of the Kentuckians was due, in part, to the circumstance that the chaplain of the Expedition had been killed.

The subsequent official investigation showed to the entire satisfaction of our Anglo-Norman lawyers that practically everything had been done under "the forms of law."

The word effrenatus was almost overworked by Cicero. It perfectly described the Catilines of old Rome and the banded ruffians that wrought their will. But in his very lawlessness the Norman of Malaterra never forgot the law. He scrupulously observed its "forms." Even the Conquest of England was "justified" by a pronunciamento of legal assumptions subtly and elaborately drawn. The Norman was a shrewd and successful trafficker, and this tradition of commercial skill and thrift is current in Normandy to-day. When he settled on English soil or sailed in English ships he did not lose his inherited commercial instincts. He made England the trading nation that she is. An eminent Kentuckian, who bore the distinctive marks of Norman blood, once said to a group of keenly attentive listeners, "The meanest of all aristocracies is a commercial aristocracy." A like disparaging conception of a powerful adversary was implied in the remark attributed to Napoleon, that "the English were a nation of shop-keepers"—un peuple marchand. It was this same race of innocuous Anglo-Norman traffickers that crushed Napoleon's iron columns at Waterloo, and forever closed his conquering career. But the Norman, who was a soldier, a lawyer, a diplomatist, orator, hunter, horseman and trader, was also a successful cultivator of the soil, and the Norman agriculturist of to-day who reminds the tourist in his physical traits, hair, eyes, and complexion, and even in the intonations of his voice, of an English farmer of the Anglo-Norman type, bears a more striking resemblance to his English kinsman indeed than to his dark-visaged compatriot, the vigneron of Southern France. We must add, to complete the portraiture left us by Malaterra, that the Norman was a passionate lover of horses, of the breed immortalized by the genius of Bonheur; a bold equestrian, skilled in the use of arms; at home upon the sea, and literally reared in the lap of war. And he was also a brilliant orator, passionately fond of eloquent speech. From his early boyhood, says the chronicler, he assiduously cultivated his natural aptitude for that persuasive art, that power of ready and effective utterance which, though often profane, made him dominant in the councils of war and of peace; in the cabinets of diplomacy, and even in the chamber of the King. Gens astutissima beyond all doubt.

To return to our beginning—what think you was in the mind of Paul Du Chaillu as he stood that memorable evening before an audience of mid-century Kentuckians?—this philosophic thinker who had been for years a critical observer of "the most dramatic spectacle in history"—the sweeping, ceaseless, transcontinental march of the Anglo-Norman race—what did he think of the environing conditions as he stood in that old Courthouse which had resounded with the eloquence of Anglo-Norman orators; which had echoed and re-echoed generation after generation to the "Oyez!" "Oyez!" of Anglo-Norman sheriffs? and which was still standing, an impressive memorial of days when the ground upon which it was built was the camping-ground of the dominant figure in this Westward march—the Anglo-Norman leader Boone or "Bohun"—a name which in its very sound or utterance (mugitus boum) was in "dark and bloody" times a challenge to mortal combat—a deep bellowing defiance of "battle to the death"?

What were his thoughts as he looked with wondering eyes upon that charming Southern matron with her fair, delicate features and high-bred air? Was the vision a vivid reminder of blue-eyed "Scandinavian" maidens with faces as white as their native snows and locks with the softened shimmer of the midnight sun? One must acknowledge that the very exquisiteness of form and tint made this a rare type, even in Kentucky, but there were many interesting variations of it to be seen at our great mid-century "Fairs"—from the rich "auburn" of Marie Stuart to the "carroty" tresses of the Virgin Queen—framing lovely faces and crowning tall, willowy figures of queenly mold. But probably the prevailing tint of hair was that ascribed by the wizard romancer to the Lady Rowena—with her dash of Scandinavian blood—something between flaxen and brown; all in clear and brilliant contrast with a type that glowed with the superb brunette finish of Southern and Central France. Had Du Chaillu been with us in earlier days we could have shown him likewise figures of a striking masculine type—tall, soldierly figures that might have graced the "Viking age"—men who, after the fashion of early Norman days, would have been equally at home in camp or court. One of these gallant gentlemen, whom many of us remember, was in some respects a striking counterpart of a Scandinavian sailor that figures in a late romance, "Wolf Larsen"; like him even in the soubriquet prefixed to his Scandinavian name; of gigantic stature and strength; big-brained, passionate, strong-willed, energetic, proud, combative and sagacious, with a deep instinctive love of the sea. But his chronic irascibility of temper, often manifest on trifling provocation in unbridled bursts of Berserker rage, sadly marred the brilliancy of his military career, and engendered deep and implacable enmities which brought his career as a soldier to a speedy and tragical close.

In other respects he radically differed from Norsemen of the Wolf Larsen type. In his relations with his family and friends he was delicate, generous, and kind; the tenderest of sons, the kindest brother, the most devoted and loyal of friends: a lover of literature, music, and the finer pleasures of social life. Strangest of all, he was reverent and devout. He respected the forms of the Church, and every night, even in the rude environment of the camp, he knelt beside his soldier's couch and repeated the Lord's Prayer. But the soubriquet fastened upon him both by resentful enemies and admiring friends recalls his fictitious counterpart—Wolf Larsen. Whenever the name of the Federal commander came up for discussion during our great Civil War—whether in Confederate camp or by Kentucky firesides, or by the campfires of his own loyal division—he was invariably known, by reason of his huge figure, his big bovine head, his flaming black eyes, his fierce, tumultuous energies, his headlong courage and gigantic strength, by the soubriquet "Bull"—BULL NELSON—a sea-trained soldier with a bellowing soubriquet prefixed to an honored racial name—a mid-century Kentuckian, who in mediÆval battle might have swung the battle-axe of Front-de-Boeuf.

There were many others—Kentuckians of an ideal Anglo-Norman type—who would have brought to M. Du Chaillu the strongest confirmation of his philosophic views had he visited us during the cyclonic "sixties," or in that halcyon interlude "before the war."