FREDERICK II. AND POPE GREGORY IX.
Seven years elapsed before another attempt worthy of record was made for
the recapture of Palestine. Frederick II. (Hohenstaufen) of Germany was
its leader; hero it had none.
Frederick was one of the ablest men of the twelfth and thirteenth
centuries, though not meriting the title given him by an English
chronicler, “the Wonder of the World.” The grandson of Frederick
Barbarossa, son of Henry IV. and Constance of Sicily, he united in his
person the strongest traits of German and Italian stock. Born in 1194,
at two years of age he was elected king of the Romans, and in his fourth
year was crowned King of Sicily. Pope Innocent III. was the guardian of
his childhood, and well discharged his duty, if the rare education of
Frederick may be taken as evidence. The royal youth mastered Latin,
Greek, French, German, and knew something of Arabic and Hebrew; he was
creditably versed in Saracenic science and arts, as well as in Christian
philosophy and scholasticism; he wrote well on the habits of birds, and
shared with the Troubadours the joys of the poet’s art; he endowed
universities, patronized painters, and encouraged architects. In
government he deserves to rank among the empire-builders, for in a
narrow age he extended the scope of law for the toleration of Jews and
Mohammedans, for the emancipation of peasants from undue oppression at
the hands of the upper classes, and for the enlargement of international
commerce almost to the line of the modern theory of free trade. His
liberality towards Moslems brought him the accusation of harboring in
his heart a secret infidelity, which his severity with the Christian
schismatics could not entirely dispel.
At the age of eighteen Frederick entered into contest for the imperial
throne of Germany, and in 1215, at the age of twenty-one, won the crown
of Charlemagne. In order to accomplish this grand object, he had, as a
first step, secured the alliance of the Pope. This he did by pledging,
among other things, to lead a crusade; but the pressing emergencies of
his new crown caused delay from year to year. In 1225 he married
Iolante, the daughter of John of Brienne, King of Jerusalem. He at once
asserted that John held his crown only in virtue of being the husband of
Queen Mary, and this lady having died, her daughter, Iolante, was lawful
sovereign. Thus by marriage he annexed to his German title that of King
of Jerusalem, and was looked to by all for the defence of his new
dominion. But two years later (1227) he was still too busy unravelling
European complications to absent himself in the distant East.
In this year Gregory IX. ascended the papal throne. While this Pope
still retained the faculties and ambition of youth, he had developed
also the obstinacy and petulance of old age. By his unwise dealing with
the German emperor, and the impolitic assertion of his own capricious
will as of divine authority, he may be said to have started the
decadence of the papal throne, which in another generation was destined
to lose the prestige of the Hildebrandian policy and all prospect of
becoming the world monarchy.
On the day of his accession to power Gregory IX. issued a proclamation
for all the sovereigns of Christendom to unite in a new crusade, and
openly threatened Frederick with his ecclesiastical vengeance if he
longer postponed the fulfilment of his vow. He accused the emperor’s
delay with being due to luxury, if not sensuality, in living. The former
charge probably had in it a measure of truth, for Frederick’s court at
Palermo, where he spent more time than in his northern capital, was the
centre of gayety, not only among the Christians, but to a certain extent
for Mohammedans. Many of the fairest women of Asia and North Africa
graced his salons. It might also be imagined of Frederick that his faith
was not of that intense and credulous nature which foresaw a heavenly
crown awaiting his exploits in the Holy Land. Equally detrimental to his
repute for crusading zeal were the courtesies he was exchanging with
Malek-Kamel, Sultan of Egypt. It was even rumored that he had made
alliance with this sultan, pledging help against the rival Sultan of
Damascus, on condition of the restoration of Jerusalem.
But the sincerity of Frederick was proved by the gathering of his fleets
and the massing of his armaments at Otranto. The fame of his leadership
attracted the noblest of Germany. Among them was Ludwig, Landgrave of
Thuringia, noted for having won the hand of Elizabeth, daughter of
Andrew II. of Hungary, who in her girlhood had attained renown for her
asceticism and charities, and died (1231) at the age of twenty-four, to
be canonized as the fairest saint of the middle ages. From distant
England many came at Frederick’s call, and further impelled by visions
of the Saviour on the cross of fire which appeared in that northern sky.
The season was intensely hot, and gendered a fever fatal to the
crusaders who were gathered in southern Italy. Among its victims was
Ludwig, leaving his faithful spouse to keep his memory revered by her
refusal to marry any one of the numerous kings who were attracted to her
feet. Many bishops and thousands of pilgrims succumbed to this plague.
Frederick sailed, but only to return in three days, seeking hospital in
Otranto.
Pope Gregory IX. fulminated against Frederick all the terrors of his
personal scorn and ecclesiastical vengeance. From his pulpit he pictured
him “breaking all his promises, bursting every bond, trampling underfoot
the fear of God, despising all reverence for Jesus Christ, scorning the
censures of the church, deserting the Christian army, abandoning the
Holy Land to unbelievers, to his own disgrace and that of all
Christendom withdrawing to the luxury and wonted delights of his
kingdom, and seeking to palliate his offence by frivolous excuses of
simulated sickness.” Then, while the cathedral bells were clanging a
demoniacal accompaniment to what was transpiring beneath them, the
clergy stood with lighted torches around the altar. Gregory invoked the
eternal curse of God upon his imperial victim. The clergy dashed their
torches and extinguished them upon the floor, in token of the “blackness
of darkness forever” which should settle upon the emperor’s soul.
The news of this anathema excited the minds of the common people to such
a degree that they saw all sorts of signs of Heaven’s disapproval of the
crowned Judas; such as bloody crosses, on which the Saviour was dying
afresh, “as if laying a complaint before each and every Christian.”
Frederick made a quick retort to the papal fulmination, in which he
advised all temporal princes to beware of the unscrupulous domination of
the Roman hierarchy. He closed a letter to the princes of Europe with
these words of an old couplet:
“Give heed when neighboring houses burn,
For next, perhaps, may be your turn.”
The Pope, having generated a fresh supply of gall, discharged it in an
interdict by which all subjects of Frederick should be deprived of the
ministrations of religion.
The emperor, in order to prove the injustice of the Pope’s assault upon
him and the falsity of the accusation that he had feigned sickness,
prepared to resume the crusade, taking, however, his own time and way.
His armaments were repaired. He summoned all the dignitaries of his
kingdom to meet him at Baroli (April, 1228). There, in the presence of a
vast multitude, he declared his will regarding the succession in the
event of his not returning alive, and exhorted his people to live in
peace during his absence. The Pope now became not less violent in
denouncing the crusade than he had been previously in urging it, on the
ground that its leader was excommunicate. He refused to recognize it as
a holy war, and stigmatized it as an expedition of piracy.
With a small army of six hundred knights Frederick sailed for Acre
(September, 1228). Two Franciscan monks in a swift bark outsped him, and
aroused Palestine against the coming of such a champion. The partisans
of John of Brienne refused to recognize the kingship of his son-in-law.
Templars and Hospitallers were jealous of the new hand in affairs, and
refused to serve under him.
Frederick then pursued his old friendship with Malek-Kamel. Speaking
Arabic, he discussed with the emirs philosophy and astrology, and sent
difficult questions to the sultan, reminding the chroniclers of the
converse of Solomon and the Queen of Sheba. The ladies of the Christian
and Moslem courts mingled, say the papal apologists, to the mutual
disadvantage of the morals of both. The emperor desired to make a pious
pilgrimage to the Jordan. The Templars sent a letter to the sultan,
suggesting his capture. The sultan delivered the missive into the hands
of Frederick.
Such exchange of courtesies was only preliminary to a treaty by which
the astuteness of the emperor won the kingdom of Jerusalem without
drawing his sword. It was stipulated that Bethlehem, Nazareth, and the
Holy City, with the exception of the Temple Mount, which was occupied by
the mosque of Omar, should be given to the Christians for ten years. In
a letter to the King of England Frederick wrote how, “in a few days, by
a miracle rather than by strength, that business hath been brought to a
conclusion which for a length of time past many chiefs and rulers of the
world, among the multitude of nations, have never been able till now to
accomplish by force, however great, nor by fear.”
The fury of the papal party knew no bounds. That the Infidel should
retain a spot for worship was in their eyes a sacrilege; that a man
under papal displeasure should be recognized as king in Jerusalem was an
impiety which Heaven should punish. The city of Jerusalem was put under
the ban. Pilgrims were forbidden by the Holy Father to pray at the
sepulchre of our Lord, for which purpose, with the Pope’s encouragement,
they had left their homes, and in many cases sacrificed their earthly
all.
Frederick repaired in great state to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre
for his coronation (March 18, 1229). No priest ventured to celebrate the
mass or pronounce a blessing upon the accursed of the church; the
silence was unbroken except by the clang of armor; the images of the
apostles were veiled that they might not look upon the reprobate.
Frederick took the crown from the altar with his own hands and placed it
upon his head; then was read in his name a formal exculpation of the
Pope for his persecution, on the ground of the Holy Father’s ignorance
of his motives and conduct; he also announced his humiliation before God
and His vicar for his crown. With more catholicity he visited the same
day the mosque of Omar. A muezzin, whose station was near the emperor’s
house, by order of the kadi omitted the usual call to prayer, lest it
should give offence to his Christian Majesty. Frederick gently rebuked
the Moslem official: “You are wrong to neglect, on my account, your
duty, your law, and your religion. If you should visit my realm, you
would find no such respectful deference.” A priest had brought into the
mosque a copy of the Gospels. Frederick rebuked this as an insult to his
allies, saying, “Here we are all the servants of the sultan; it is he
that has restored to us our churches.” The emperor then retired to Acre.
The papal interdict upon all people among whom he should find abode
followed him. The churches of Acre were unopened; the sick were refused
consolation in their homes, and the dead were buried, without funeral
service, in the fields.
At this juncture news from Europe urged the emperor’s return home. John
of Brienne, his father-in-law, was ravaging the kingdom of Naples. The
Pope was filling all Christendom with denunciations, and plotting that
the imperial crown itself might be taken from the head of the man who,
by the treaty with the Moslems, had effected “reconciliation of Christ
and Belial.” The Moslem world simultaneously rang with as bitter
denunciation of the act of Malek-Kamel in surrendering the sacred city.
Thus, amid the universal confusion produced by his aim to establish
peace, Frederick returned to the West. With a popularity which the ban
of Rome could not destroy, after crushing his enemies in the field he
engaged in the work of giving to his people better laws, and stimulating
the new civilization which was everywhere appearing as the Dark Ages
were wearing away.
With the retirement of Frederick from Palestine the Christians were
reduced to utmost extremity. Notwithstanding the treaty, constant
collisions occurred between the Moslem and Christian bigots. The great
bell of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre often rang its alarm. The
pilgrims generally sought safety in the fortress of David, or in more
obscure retreats in the neighborhood of Jerusalem; their cries again
afflicted their brethren in Europe.
The Pope convoked an assembly at Spoleto, at which it was determined to
ignore Frederick’s truce with the Sultan of Cairo, and renew the war.
Special agents of the holy see visited the various courts; monks and
orators went everywhere, preaching the necessity of dyeing the cross
anew in the blood of unbelievers. The followers of St. Francis and St.
Dominic were diverted from their legitimate and honorable work of
charity to act as the collectors of a war fund. Troubadours, headed by
Thibaut V., King of Navarre, sang:
“Heaven is closed to those who will not cross the sea,”
and urged in rhythmic piety the exchange of earthly amours for the
service of the Virgin:
“My Lady lost, Lady, be thou my aid.”
The war upon the helpless Albigenses having come to an end from the
extermination of its victims, many soldiers were impatient of new
service to appease their sharply whetted appetite for blood. Thus a
multitude was enrolled for a new crusade.
But a diverting cry came from a different direction. The Latin empire at
Constantinople was falling. First Lascaris and then Vataces had for
years kept the Greeks well in hand, and they now assailed the walls of
the capital. John of Brienne was called to the tottering throne. As
everywhere during his long career, so now at the age of eighty years
this man showed splendid qualities on the field, but died without
effectually driving away the foe. His son-in-law, Baldwin, succeeded him
to a barren sceptre, and visited Europe in piteous entreaty for help.
This call would have been sufficient in itself to divert much of the
energy of the crusaders; but the Pope, now far gone in senility, further
embarrassed affairs by commanding the warriors to return to their homes.
This order went far towards depreciating the Pope in popular reverence.
Those assembled at Lyons replied to the papal message: “Whence arises
this fickleness in the Roman court? According to the promises of the
preachers we have prepared ourselves in God’s behalf; we have sold or
pledged our lands, taken leave of friends, sent our money to the Holy
Land in advance. Why do our pastors change their tone and rise against
us?” With difficulty were they restrained from doing violence to the
papal agents. The Pope, however, remained inexorable, and threatened all
who proceeded with the crusade that “they should not enjoy the
indulgence for their sins which had been granted them.” Some urged the
sacredness of their crusaders’ vow. This scruple the Pope readily turned
to the account of his treasury by absolving such from their pledge upon
payment of a sum of money equal to that required to provision themselves
for the voyage, whence “great scandal and schism arose among the
people.”
The Emperor Frederick also proposed that the expedition should be
postponed until, with the rallied forces of his empire, he might give it
better assurance of success. Pope and emperor revived their strifes, and
Italy was turned into pandemonium. A few of the more ardent managed to
escape the entanglements at home for more honorable adventures in the
East. The King of Navarre, the dukes of Brittany and Burgundy, reached
Syria (August, 1239) and performed exploits sufficient to more
thoroughly enrage, but not to awe, the Moslems. In 1240 Richard of
Cornwall, with a band of English, sailing in spite of the Pope’s
prohibition, landed at Acre, made several raids through Turkish
territory, and returned, having gained nothing but a continuance of the
truce with the sultan.