[Illustration: _The Return of the Crusaders_]
_Life Stories for Young People_
BARBAROSSA
_Translated from the German of
Franz Kühn_
BY
GEORGE P. UPTON
_Translator of “Memories,” etc._
WITH FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS
[Illustration: A. C. McCLURG & CO.]
CHICAGO
A. C. McCLURG & CO.
1906
Copyright
A. C. McClurg & Co.
1906
Published September 22, 1906
THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.
Translator’s Preface
From whatever point of view we consider Frederick I,—more familiarly
known as “Barbarossa,” because of his red beard,—whether as the greatest
of the sovereigns of the Holy Roman Empire, or as one of the most
gallant of the famous crusade leaders, the story of his life is one of
absorbing interest. This little volume includes a sketch of the events
which led up to his accession to the throne of Germany, of his various
campaigns in Italy after he had received the imperial crown, and of the
disastrous third Crusade, in which he took part with Richard the
Lion-hearted of England and Philip Augustus of France. The young reader
will probably feel most interested in Barbarossa as a Crusader,
particularly because in this connection appear the two young knights,
Raymond and Conrad, who became the _protégés_ of Barbarossa after the
death of their gallant father, Conrad of Feuchtwangen, on the
battlefield. Their brave exploits in battle, the adventurous ride of
Raymond when he carried to the Emperor the news of the danger of his
father and his little band in the valley, the capture of the brothers by
the fleeing Turks at Iconium, and the exciting description of the test
to which the Sultan exposed them, will appeal to the young from the
romantic side, while their noble qualities as Christian knights and
their high manly character should make an equally forcible appeal, in
these days when knighthood can hardly be said to be in flower.
In making this translation I have endeavored to retain the vigorous
descriptions as well as the healthy sentiment and charming simplicity of
the author’s moralizing by keeping as closely to the original as
possible. The only liberty I have taken with the text is the omission of
passages here and there,—without marring the context, however,—so as to
make the volume nearly uniform in size with the others in the series. I
have invariably characterized Frederick as Emperor, referring to him
thus as Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire rather than as King of Germany.
G. P. U.
Chicago, July 1, 1906.
Contents
I. Return of the Crusaders 11
II. Frederick Ascends the Throne 21
III. The Italian Campaigns 33
IV. The Mayence Festival and Tournament 45
V. Life in the Castle 52
VI. The Third Crusade 61
VII. Conrad’s Victory in the Valley 73
VIII. Raymond’s Heroic Ride 86
IX. Conrad’s Death 100
X. Capture of the Brothers 112
XI. The Brothers’ Ordeal 126
XII. The Emperor to the Rescue 138
XIII. Barbarossa’s Victory and Death 153
Appendix 167
Illustrations
The Return of the Crusaders _Frontispiece_
Raymond’s Ride 92
The Test 132
Redbeard and the Lion 156
Barbarossa
Chapter I
Return of the Crusaders
The second Crusade was ended.[1] Exploits as heroic as those in the
first Crusade, under Godfrey of Bouillon,[2] had been performed, but no
battles as glorious as those in the first had been fought. It was a
difficult task to wrest Palestine from the domination of the Turks.
Scarcely the tenth part of the stout champions who set out from the
various provinces of France and Germany returned, and of this little
remnant many were exhausted by marches, enfeebled by disease, and doomed
to speedy death. Most of the castles resounded with lamentations over
the death of their masters. Widows and orphans stood wringing their
hands around catafalques in front of the altars in the castle chapels,
as the chaplains prayed for the souls of the noble ones who had given
their lives for the Christian religion in the far distant wastes of
Asia. Every province mourned its dead, for in many cases the people had
lost their lord and protector, who had restrained cruelty and
lawlessness. Even in cases where these masters had ruled with an iron
hand and, in violation of their knightly and Christian duties, had
maltreated their inferiors, there was no rejoicing over their death; for
during the son’s minority the guardian came into absolute control and
might rob and plunder at will, while if there were no heir, the Emperor
had the power to place a stranger over them. “It is better to cling to
the old ways” was a German saying, even then.
Felseck was one of the few joyous castles. A great banner bearing the
colors of its master waived from the loftiest turret. Armed servitors
stood upon the ramparts and the guardians of his widely scattered
possessions awaited his coming at the gates and portcullises. From the
watchtower the warder scanned the plain, which stretched a long distance
from the castle heights, watching with experienced eye every cloud of
dust raised by each little passing troop. Many a time the heart of the
warder, who had grown gray in faithful service to his master, beat more
quickly as his keen glance recognized signs of an approaching company,
and repeatedly he brushed away a tear when he found himself deceived and
saw the company riding off in another direction, or not displaying the
colors of the house.
It was already past midday. Many a face was clouded with anxiety and
suspense, and some even feared that the report of the safe return of the
lord of the castle might be false, especially as so many reports had
proved untrue. Rather than have their joy turn to bitter grief, it would
have been less sorrowful tidings had they been told at once that Conrad
of Feuchtwangen was no longer among the living. It would have been a
crushing sorrow, but they could have submitted to the inevitable with
more courage than if they had had to realize that the hope of his
return, once aroused, must give place to life-long disappointment.
A cloud of dust appeared again, and the warder gave the signal. A
solitary knight was seen riding swiftly toward the castle. His colors
could not yet be made out, and the occupants of the castle, as well as
the people round about who were awaiting the arrival of the lord of the
manor, hovered between fear and hope. All watched the approaching
stranger anxiously; many insisted they could distinguish the colors of
the house, but others were in doubt. When it was certain that the former
were right, then all were eager to know whether he brought joyous or sad
tidings.
A trumpet signal was heard in the distance, to which the warder at once
replied. This interchange of calls announced the approach of a friend of
the house. Rushing forward to meet him, the people questioned the rider
and begged for information. They followed after his sweating steed and
exultantly surged forward to the castle gate. The nearer he came, the
bigger and more clamorous grew the multitude, and long before the gates
were opened to him, the people were confident he was the bearer of good
tidings.
Then the castle halls resounded with joyful acclamations which could be
restrained no longer, and which grew more exultant as another and louder
flourish of the trumpet was heard from the watchtower; all rushed out to
extend their welcome, for, rapidly as the little band approached, it was
all too slow for the impatient throng. The broad plain was soon covered
with the enthusiastic multitude. All were eager to witness the return of
their good master to his ancestral halls after the performance of such
glorious deeds in the face of such adverse circumstances.
Stout hands bore the consort of the returning knight in a litter at the
front; and by her side were her two lovely, fair-haired boys, images of
their father, who could not restrain their impatience and were doing
their utmost to keep up. At last they met the returning knights. Conrad
of Feuchtwangen quickly dismounted from his great war-horse, and in an
instant his faithful Gertrude was in his arms. The joy of seeing her
lord once more overcame her, and she clung helplessly to the strong man
who was again all her own after such long absence, and spared from the
dreadful dangers to which he had been exposed daily and almost hourly.
She had hardly recovered herself before she was greeted with passionate
embraces and expressions of joy, which the boys also shared. Frightened
at first by the stern, sun-browned face of their father and the pallor
of their mother, they soon regained their courage. They clung to him and
were loth to desist from hugging and kissing him and calling him the
tenderest of endearing names. Universal joy prevailed, and tears of
sympathy came to the eyes of many a bearded warrior at the sight of such
happiness. Good wishes and the heartiest of welcomes were extended on
all sides, and Knight Conrad cordially thanked all, both high and low.
When the first joyous outburst was over, they made their way to the
castle. Gertrude mounted a beautiful snow-white palfrey; the boys were
placed on their father’s war-horse, and supported by his strong arms
they passed through the joyous multitude, who followed after them. The
knight and his train entered the beautifully decorated castle halls,
while the armed servitors and the people could hardly find room in the
large courtyard. Evening came, but its cool air did not dampen the
enthusiasm. The courtyard glowed with the light of torches illuminating
the crowd, which was hilariously but harmlessly celebrating the occasion
with the contents of the castle cellars. Within, in his high ancestral
hall, Conrad sat with his family and friends at a richly furnished
table, and many a bumper of choice wine was drank in honor of the happy
home-coming. At intervals the cheerful strains of lutes were heard, and
the Minnesingers, inspired to do their best, sang many a long-drawn-out
story of the heroic deeds of the old German heroes, in majestic verse.
“We have had enough, noble sirs,” at last said Conrad. “Thanks for your
painstaking service. Now join us in celebrating this happy day. You must
be weary.”
“Oh, my lord, how could we ever tire of relating the great deeds of our
ancestors? Are they not the source of all the pleasures and sorrows of
the present and future? Do they not inspire emulation of noble actions,
and the exercise of knightly virtues?”
“Their remembrance is a treasure for all time,” said a knight of about
the same age as Conrad, “but we have also witnessed exploits worthy of
our ancestors, even if the outcome was not as fortunate.”
“Oh,” said Gertrude, and many joined in her request, “tell us of your
exploits in the Holy Land among the Turkish hordes, even though it may
temper our joy to hear the true account.”
“As you see,” replied the knight who was called Frederick of Swabia, “we
do not return as numerous or as imposing as when we set out. It was then
a goodly sight to look upon,—nigh seventy thousand heavily armored
knights, not including foot-soldiers, riding to the Holy War. Hungary
and Greece were astonished when they saw the array, and exulted over the
certain destruction of the Turkish army. Oh, the treachery of these
villains, who expected their deliverance at our hands and then placed
almost insurmountable obstacles in our way! They overcharged us in the
sale of supplies. Our hungry men were often obliged to procure
subsistence by force when they were out of money. This occasioned many
fatal quarrels, and we reached Asia Minor at last needy and sorely
troubled. It was there our real misfortunes began, for the Greeks
carried their knavery to the extreme. Sometimes when our army, which
unfortunately had chosen the shorter but more dangerous route, arrived
at cities, we were not allowed to enter. There was no way of obtaining
food except in baskets let down from the walls, for which extortionate
prices were demanded. It was ‘Money, or your life!’ Often, when the
money was sent up, the rope was not lowered again, and the unfortunate
one, who perhaps had parted with his last penny, was only laughed at.
Even when we obtained anything for our money it was wretched stuff,
barely fit to eat, and sometimes poisoned. In some cases lime was found
in the bread, which caused the death of several of our half-starved
warriors.”
“Terrible!” cried Gertrude, shuddering at the thought of such suffering,
“was that Christian-like?”
“The Greeks treated us even worse than the heathen Turks did, and it
will always be remembered to their shame. Their guides purposely led us
astray. More than once they disappeared at daybreak, when they were most
needed. Once, to our great surprise, we found ourselves well-nigh
delivered by those scoundrels into the hands of the Saracens. For
Turkish gold they led us into an arid waste, where the Turks suddenly
attacked us and, favored by the almost limitless stretch of level
country, surrounded us and used their fatal skill at fence so
dexterously that in a few days the greater part of the German army was
sacrificed. Hardly the tenth part of it returned to Byzantium. We were
among the fortunate ones, but our friendly reception at the hands of the
Greek Emperor was poor compensation for our misfortunes. Shame upon the
people of a country who would rather see their champions perish than aid
them against a dangerous foe!
“Little grateful for this hospitality, we continued our retreat as soon
as possible. At Nicea we met the French, who at the outset had as large
a force as our own, and who had met with similar misfortunes. The most
of them had been slaughtered by the Turks. An agreement was made to take
the remainder to Antioch, whither the King of France had gone by vessel.
Instead of keeping their word, however, the Greeks detained them in dark
hovels, and left them a prey to hunger and disease.”
“Horrible!” exclaimed all.
“But true,” said Frederick. “Will you believe me when I tell you that
thousands voluntarily surrendered to the Turks, for they expected and
received better treatment from them than from those of their own faith?”
These dreadful revelations brought tears of sorrow to the eyes of
Gertrude and many of the listeners.
“At last,” continued Frederick, “we reached Jerusalem, where also both
sovereigns came. Reduced in numbers and half-starved as we were, we
nevertheless ventured to besiege Damascus, but were baffled again by
these Eastern Christians, who, in consideration of Turkish gold, helped
the enemy and obstructed us.”
“So you see,” interrupted Conrad, “we came back rich in exploits, but
not crowned with victory.”
“That is not our fault,” replied Frederick, “and yet it is not just to
lay the blame upon Providence. It is just as unreasonable also to
reproach the Abbé Bernard of Clairvaux,[3] who advocated the Crusade, as
to charge us with responsibility for the failure of the movement which
he was certain would be successful. The highest human skill cannot avail
against treachery. The grand work of rescuing the Holy Sepulchre will
not succeed until all engaged in it are animated by Christian love and
harmony, and work together for the common purpose, allowing nothing to
divert them from its attainment.”