_CHAPTER LII_.
_SEDITION_.
The Pontiff was watching the people from the summit of the castle. Hewas overwhelmed with sadness; for he had long known the fickleness ofthe Romans, and the ease with which they could be misled caused gravefears of an early defection from his cause. Still he gave no evidencesof discontent or ill humor; his sorrow was only that of a tender fathermourning over the errors of a loved, though wayward child.
Near him stood Conrad of Wittelsbach, the deposed Archbishop ofMayence, a prelate of grave and dignified demeanor, whose featuresindicated firmness and energy. His efforts to bring about areconciliation between Alexander and Frederic had been fruitless; theangry Emperor looked upon the Pope as the only obstacle to peace, andhis renunciation of the pontifical throne was the essential conditionon which he insisted.
"Poor misguided people; what a tumult!" said Alexander. "Hark how theycheer for the Emperor! What terrible ingratitude!"
"The Romans in this respect differ in no way from the rest of mankind,most Holy Father. To-day they cry Hosanna! to-morrow, Death! But itseems as though they were coming to see us," added Conrad; "the crowdis pressing in this direction."
In fact the mob, under the leadership of Guerrazzi and otherdemagogues, was moving towards the castle, and already the shouts of"Long live the Emperor!" were heard uttered with such violence thatthey even reached the Imperial camp. On the bridge the people stoppedand glared at the portcullis with an air of hatred and defiance.Frangipani the governor of Saint Angelo, at once repaired to thepresence of the Holy Father, to inquire if he would receive thetribunes of the Roman people.
"The tribunes of the Roman people?" repeated Alexander, with surprise.
"The designation appeared to me as extraordinary as it does to yourHoliness," replied the soldier; "but, however it may be, the so-calledtribunes of the Roman people desire an audience of your Holiness."
"Alas!" exclaimed the Pope, "their blindness is even greater thanI supposed. However, let them come, I will receive them in thecouncil-chamber."
A dense crowd entered the castle and were led by Frangipani to the roomwhich had been designated. The pontifical court had adjourned but a fewminutes before, and the cardinals' chairs were still around a longtable, at the upper end of which stood the throne of St. Peter. Alongthe walls were shelves covered with books and parchments, for thearchives of the Church had accompanied the Pope in his flight.
As soon as the last tribune had entered, the doors were closed andguarded by the soldiers, whose measured steps along the corridors,joined to the clank of their armor, produced a marked impression upontheir excited minds. They looked anxiously around as if in dread, butGuerrazzi, who perceived the general impression, hastened to reassurethem.
"Do not be in the least alarmed," he said, "we have nothing to fear.The people surround the Castle, and would not leave one stone uponanother, if any violence were offered to us. We possess theirconfidence, we must show ourselves worthy of our trust. Believe me,since the time of Romulus and Remus, no tribunes have ever been chosenwith so much promptness and discrimination as ourselves. Since, inspite of my unworthiness, the people have seen fit to elevate me to thedignity of the tribuneship, I intend, as certain as I can trace myorigin directly back to Romulus, to show myself worthy of the honor,and to defend the people's rights with all my energy."
At this moment the Pope, accompanied by Conrad of Mayence, entered thehall by a side-door.
Guerrazzi's colleagues, generally, belonged to the dregs of the people,and modelled their conduct upon his. Still, although the crafty tailorfelt persuaded of their devotion to his cause and their own ambitiousschemes, he felt that they were overawed by the calm majesty of thePontiff, before whom they preserved a silence which induced Alexanderto suppose, at first, that they had come to solicit his forgiveness forthe insurgents.
But Guerrazzi was not a vulgar rebel; he was a villain ready foranything, an accomplished scoundrel. Approaching the Pope withassurance, he drew himself up, threw back his head, and spoke thus:
"Sir Pope, we, the tribunes of the Roman people, wish you to understandthat the Emperor has offered us his friendship, and that we haveaccepted it. No harm shall be done to your person, but you must resignthe sovereign dignity, in order that the Roman people may, as is itsright, choose a Pope. As you are a pious and a holy man, you may,perhaps, hope that our choice will fall again upon yourself as a fitperson to occupy St. Peter's chair."
The demagogue was silent and awaited the Pontiff's answer, but therewas none; the arrogance and importance of the harangue rendered anyreply impossible.
The tailor had more skill and craftiness than the Holy Father. Peopleof elevated sentiments can never understand all the insincerity andbaseness of which vulgar minds are capable, and Alexander could notsuppose that the speaker only sought to lead him into a snare whichwould make him odious to the people.
"I am aware, Holy Father," he continued, "that you desire to put an endto the war. Many hundreds of Roman citizens are in the hands of theenemy: Frederic has promised their release if we throw open our gates;but he threatens to hang them and treat Rome as he has treated Milan,in case we persevere in our resistance. He will demolish ourfortifications, will put us to the sword or send us into exile, andwill turn this noble city into a heap of ruins. It is in your power toavert all this and save us from inevitable misery, by resigning thethrone and ordering the surrender of the city."
Despite the wickedness which appeared in the harangue, the Holy Fatherwas moved by the picture. He would gladly have gone into exile, or evento death itself, in the discharge of his duty, but the people seemedready to yield everything rather than persevere in the struggle.
"My son," said Alexander, after a moment's reflection, "you haveundertaken a matter which is beyond the scope of your abilities, andwhich is even contrary to justice; I will therefore make you no reply.It is to be deplored that the Romans are less disposed to do battle forGod and his Church, than to make arrangements with the Emperor, whoseonly object is the gratification of personal ambition. His intention isto destroy the Church of God in Rome."
"Allow me to say, Sir Pope, that the Emperor has not come here as adestroyer, but rather as a protector of our rights and liberties."
"You cannot believe that, poor misguided people that ye are!"
As if in answer to these words of the Pope, the yells of the infuriatedmob were heard before the fortress.
"Long live Barbarossa!--Election of the Pope!--Down with the governmentof the priests!--Hurrah for the Senate!"
These words, and others of a similar nature, showed the spirit whichanimated the populace.
"Listen to them, then, Holy Father! mark with what enthusiasm theyacclaim the Emperor!" said the tailor, insolently. "Barbarossa isreally a great man, an Emperor worthy of the name of Augustus. Irecollect well the time when he came to St. Peter's with Pope Adrian.Oh, the happy days! Why cannot you, too, become the Emperor's friend?Every difficulty would then be removed."
"You do not understand me, my son; personally, I have no dislike toFrederic, but it is my duty to oppose his perverse designs."
"Do you not admit that Pope Adrian was a wise and saintly Pontiff?--Thepeople have always so considered him."
"And they were right."
"Why then could he be the friend of Barbarossa, whilst you are not so?"
Among the rare qualities of Alexander III. must be counted the trulyChristian patience with which he listened to the reproaches of wickedmen, and the mildness which he employed in trying to convince them oftheir perversity. But the Holy Father was compelled to admit thehopeless impossibility of impressing upon this rabble the greatimportance of his contest with Frederic.
After a moment's reflection, he went towards the table and sought amongthe parchments.
"Here is a document," he said, "written by Pope Adrian. It will showyou that our predecessor was gravely annoyed by the Emperor's conductwhich
always was hostile to the independence of the Church. 'God bethanked,' he writes to the German bishops, 'that you have remainedfaithful! God be thanked for giving you the ability to judge,dispassionately, between Frederic and the Holy See! This schism whichhe has instigated will recoil upon his own head; it is like a dragon,which, wishing to fly to heaven, has fallen to the earth, and has beenswallowed up. He who would exalt himself, shall be abased. This foxseeks to lay waste the Lord's vineyard; this guilty son forgets allgratitude and all fear. He has fulfilled none of his promises, he hasdeceived us in everything; he deserves then to be treated as a rebel tohis God, as a heathen, as an outlaw.' You see then, my children, howseverely Adrian judged the Emperor. What would this saintly Pontiffwrite now; what sentence would he pass upon Frederic at the time whenhe is persecuting with still more virulence the Church of God?"
A savage yell, which seemed to approach the castle, interruptedAlexander, and Frangipani appeared.
"Holy Father," said the soldier, "I can no longer endure the presenceof these bandits; allow me to drive them away by force."
"By no means; let no blood be spilled! Tell them," he said, turning toGuerrazzi, "that there can be no alliance between Christians and theenemies of God; tell them, distinctly, that Rome has naught to fear, solong as she fights against the foes of the Church!"
He withdrew, and a few moments later, Guerrazzi was again upon hiscolumn, haranguing the rabble which pressed eagerly around him. Thetailor inveighed bitterly against the harshness of Alexander, who, heasserted, had no pity for the sufferings of the people, and wasdisposed to resist the Emperor at any cost.
"I represented everything to him," he said, "I reminded him of Milan,of your inevitable destruction if you rejected the proffered mercy! Ireminded him of our captive brothers who will certainly be hung, unlesswe stretch out our hand to Barbarossa. With tears in my eyes, Ibesought him to have pity upon us, upon our wives, upon our helplesschildren; my words would have touched a heart of stone, but they werepowerless to move this barbarian. Do you call such a one a holy man, afather?--He is a tyrant, a destroyer!"
Guerrazzi at last had carried his point; the crowd was rampant withsedition.
"Death to Alexander! Down with the tyrant!"
"Forward!" resumed the tailor, violently,--"brave people, rise in yourmight, break your chains, and go to meet your Augustus!"
He sprang to the ground, for his task was accomplished, and the fire ofsedition was spread rapidly through the masses. Rinaldo's emissariesurged on the revolt, and soon nothing was heard but wild panegyrics ofBarbarossa, and curses against the Pope.
Each day the excitement increased in Rome, where the Chancellor hadalready distributed large sums of money, and where the seditiousharangues of Guerrazzi, Bariso, and many others embroiled everything.
Alexander was denounced as a merciless savage.
"Soon, brothers, you will suffer all the pangs of hunger," said thetailor, always speaking from his favorite column. "You will be obligedto feed upon roots, and leather, and old shoes, and other things toodisgusting to mention. What does Alexander care for our sufferings, heis well provided with every luxury behind the walls of St. Angelo."
"The man of the castle has no heart!" cried Bariso, who had replacedGuerrazzi upon the pedestal; "if he had, would he compel us to bearthis misery, and submit to the misfortunes which ruined Milan? Yes, theEmperor has sworn to destroy everything with fire and sword, if we donot surrender within a week."
"Alexander will not resign the pontifical chair," said another voice."What does it signify to him if his obstinacy causes our destruction?Barbarossa desires to restore to Rome her ancient splendor and herliberty. Alexander has other intentions, he claims everything forhimself. He cares for neither our honor, nor our glory; he is plottingour ruin!"
Every day there were popular meetings in different quarters of thecity, and loud complaints were launched against Alexander, while someof the insurgents even went so far as to shout, through the loopholesin the walls, words of encouragement to the enemy.
At last Frederic stormed a portion of the works, and burned the churchof Santa Maria della Torre; the conflagration spread, and the vestibuleof the dome of Saint Peter was destroyed.
From the summit of St. Angelo, the Pope saw the flames surround thetomb of the prince of the Apostles; but although his face glowed withindignation, and his lips trembled with emotion at the sacrilege, heremained undaunted in his resolution to endure every trial in theinterest of the Church. He wept, and his tears were doubtless carriedto the foot of the eternal throne of God, where they pleaded for pityand forgiveness.
After the capture of the Vatican, Barbarossa attacked the castle of SanAngelo, but the assault failed. Several other positions were also inthe possession of the Papal troops, but a longer resistance seemed ofno avail. It was useless to remain in a city the people of which washostile.
Alexander saw the precarious condition of the desecrated Church, andresigning himself to his fate, determined to seek safety in flight. Butthe enemy had evidently foreseen the contingency, and every dispositionhad been made to prevent the escape of the Pontiff.
A cordon of troops was drawn around the citadel; these were doubledafter nightfall, and so great was the importance which the Emperorattached to the Pope's capture, that none but Germans were detailed onthe service, for Frederic had little confidence in his Italianmercenaries.
The gigantic castle of Saint Angelo rose towards heaven, and the gildedstatue of St. Michael glittered upon its summit. The helmeted sentinelsin full armor, their lances poised upon their shoulders, paced thebridge with measured tread. At times they looked towards the castle,then upon the river, and then towards the distant horizon; for theyknew that the Pope would seek to escape.
Further on, a strong detachment of soldiers were sleeping on theground, with their helmets and lances carefully piled near them. Amongthese might have been seen the knight Goswin and the tailor Guerrazzi,who were engaged in earnest conversation.
The frankness of the worthy German found little to sympathize with inthe crafty Italian; but Guerrazzi, who never lost the opportunity ofshowing his zeal for the Emperor, had offered to keep him company andshare the fatigues of the night-watch. Of course no fault could befound with this, but Goswin looked upon his companion much as a dogwould on a cat which fawned upon him. The German, it is true, had avery limited intellect, but his natural good sense taught him that theItalian was full of tricks and artifice.
At first he paid no attention whatever to Guerrazzi, as if to show himthat his presence was a matter of perfect indifference, and he walkedup and down the banks of the Tiber immersed in thought.
But Goswin was not a philosopher, and could not remain for hours at atime in a revery, so he very soon began to weary of the silence, andfinally approached Guerrazzi.
"A very fine evening!" said the knight, opening the conversation likeone who did not know what to say.
"We are in the month of July, noble sir, and at this season, I think,the custom ought to be to sleep all day and work at night."
"Sleep all day!--you?" said Goswin; "did I not see you on the square,haranguing the Romans, and working them up as a baker kneads softdough? And if I mistake not, you were at the allied camp beforedaybreak? Don't you sleep either day or night?"
"Not when there is anything to be done, my lord; and there will be, aslong as Rome is not entirely in the power of the Emperor!"
"What means that statue on the top of the tower?" asked Goswin,pointing to the castle.
"Ah! that is a strange story," replied the tailor, laughing. "They usedto call the fort, Adrian's Mausoleum, but ever since an angel lightedon it, it has been named the tower of Saint Angelo."
"An angel came there? This is a strange story."
"I will tell it to you in a few words. It happened one night whileGregory the Great occupied the throne of St. Peter, that a terriblepestilence had broken out in Rome. None knew whence the scourge came,nor what caused it, but he who was smitten fe
ll dead at once; the veryair was infected, and it is since then that it is customary to say whena man sneezes: God bless you!--that means: may God preserve you fromthe pestilence! Now, when the disease had reached its height, PopeGregory ordered a general fast and a procession through the city, toimplore God's pity. Nothing was of any avail, although the physiciansopposed the procession, on the ground that the concourse of so manypersons would necessarily tend to spread the contagion. Gregory,absorbed in pious meditations, mounted to the summit of that tower,precisely as Alexander has since done. The people marched slowlyonward, chanting the _miserere_; at every moment their ranks grewthinner, as a corpse fell to the ground. Suddenly the sky becameillumined, and an angel was seen upon the tower. He held in his hand afiery sword, which he brandished over the city, and then he seemed toreturn it to the scabbard. At the same instant the plague disappeared.It is for this that you see there the image of the blessed ArchangelSt. Michael, who protects us still, for since then the pestilence hasnever appeared among us."
"This is indeed a marvellous legend!" said Goswin. "The flaming swordin the hand of St. Michael clearly shows the punishment which Godintended for the Romans."
"There is no doubt about it," sneered Guerrazzi.
"You laugh?"
"Certainly; for I look upon the legend as an idle tale: old women oftensee miracles where our cool, good sense perceives nothing which is notentirely natural."
"But did not the plague cease?"
"Yes; but it would have disappeared all the same without St. Michael'sinterference."
The tailor's irony shocked the honest German, whose pious faith sawnothing astonishing in the visitation of the glorious archangel.
"If all the Romans thought as you do, they did not deserve St.Michael's assistance."
"Bah! the St. Michael of the mausoleum is not an article of the Creed!Although I may think the story of the apparition false, I am not apagan."
Goswin stared angrily at the tailor, and turned away.
Whilst this scene was passing upon the bridge, Alexander was hurriedlypreparing for his flight. The garrison was ignorant of the intentionsof his Holiness, but in the antechamber of the apartment, the bishopsand cardinals were kneeling, and reciting fervently the prayer for thesafety of travellers.
The door of the Pope's chamber was open, and through it might be seenthe Head of the Church and two ecclesiastics, all clothed as pilgrims,kneeling before the little altar, on which burned two candles before alarge crucifix.
The cardinals and bishops prayed with voices tremulous with emotion.
"Aid thy servants, who have faith in thee, O God! Send us assistancefrom thy holy place, and from Sion protect us! O Lord, be our strengthto resist the enemy, and let him not prevail against us! Praised be theLord! May he grant us a prosperous journey! Show us thy ways, anddirect us in thy paths. The crooked road shall be made straight, forGod has commanded his angels to protect thee on thy way. Lord, listento my prayer, and let the voice of my supplication come unto thee."
"The Lord be with you," said the Pope at the altar.
"And with thy Spirit," answered the cardinals.
"Let us pray," added the Pope. "O God! thou who hast caused the sea tobe crossed as the dry land, thou who hast guided the magi by thy holystar, grant to us a prosperous journey; and may we, under thy graciousprotection, arrive in safety at the goal to which we direct our steps.
"_Amen_!" answered the cardinals.
There was a profound silence, which was broken by the entrance ofFrangipani, who in full armor stood motionless before the door. Thebishops and cardinals remained seated, but the tears were coursing downtheir cheeks, for as they looked upon the Pope, they trembled for hissafety.
Without, was heard the measured tramp of the sentinels, then soon allagain was still.
Alexander knelt once more at the foot of the altar, and raising hiseyes to the crucifix,
"O my God! my Saviour!" said he with emotion, "protect the flock whichI am compelled to abandon! Be merciful to thy deluded people, for theyknow not what they do."
He paused and bent his head; then suddenly looking up, he exclaimed ina loud voice:
"O Almighty God of justice, look upon thy Church: turn thine eyestowards thy spouse. See her misery, her forlorn condition, herpersecution, her danger! How far wilt thou allow this wickedness totriumph, O Lord? O Lord, if thou hast pity on our misfortunes and ourgriefs, come to the aid of thy Church! Awake, O Almighty God, bare thyavenging arm! O Sweet Jesus, deign to save thy holy Church."
Alexander's voice became stronger, and his features more animated, asthough he had seen a vision. His words also had a supernaturalexpression, and the Pontiff seemed to have received, directly from theAlmighty, the power to bless and curse.
At this critical moment, the representative of God upon earth hadrepassed in his mind all the circumstances by the aid of which he hadstruggled so long for the holy cause which had just been overthrown.The giant grasp of the Emperor had clutched on the Church, and Godalone could compel him to leave his prey. The Pope felt all this, andconsequently it was to God that he looked for assistance, to him thathe addressed his prayers.
The cardinals and bishops remained kneeling in deep emotion, as thePope, rising with the air of one who had confided everything tofaithful hands, bestowed upon them his solemn benediction. Then he tookhis pilgrim's hat and staff, and, followed by his companions, descendedthe steps of the altar.
Frangipani had got all his men under arms in order to cover the Pope'sflight by a vigorous sortie, in case it was noticed by the besiegers.Goswin had just lain down upon the ground and had begun to doze.
The sentinel stood upon the bridge, his head bent forward upon hisbreast, scarcely awake. A heavy cloud veiled the moon and threw longshadows upon the city; a few doubtful rays glided upon the surface ofthe stream and played here and there upon the armors. Suddenly a smallpostern was cautiously opened and three persons came out from thecastle.
Goswin was seated upon the ground, his face towards the river, his backagainst a stone. The fatigues of the day forced Rinaldo's spy tostruggle against sleep, and he was scarcely conscious of what he saw,everything was dim and indistinct before him. But the sense of hearinghad become more acute in proportion as the other faculties of thetailor had diminished.
An almost imperceptible noise came from the tower, and in a momentGuerrazzi was on his feet peering eagerly into the night. He fanciedthat he perceived human forms moving away under cover of the darkness,and he hastily gave the alarm.
"Halloa! up! look yonder; they are escaping from the castle."
The drowsy soldiers heard a fall, a shout, and then a splashing in thewater.
"What is the matter with you? what are you shouting about?" askedGoswin. "Halloa! there he is again; ah! he has sunk a second time,"said the soldier, pointing with his lance towards the water. "Theidiot! why did he jump into the river if he did not know how to swim?"
"Who has jumped into the river?" asked the sentinel.
"The Italian; I don't know what was the matter; he suddenly cried outthat some one was leaving the castle, and then sprang into the Tiber.Did you see anything?"
"Nothing at all; everything was quiet; the idiot was dreaming, Isuppose."
"All this comes because of his want of respect for St. Michael," saidGoswin. "The devil has blinded him so that he took the water to be thesolid ground. I should have liked to save him, but it is not possibleto fish in the dark."
The soldiers crowded around the bridge and gazed at the water, whichwas carrying the villain's body away.
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