(1121-1190)
It seems almost incredible that no history should exist of the childhood
and early life of an emperor of such note as "Barbarossa;" yet, in spite
of most diligent search, we have been compelled almost to renounce one
of the most pleasing tasks of a biographer, which consists in making
acquaintance with a hero in his infancy, and through childhood and youth
following his career to fame and glory. So far as we have been able to
discover, no trace, except a few dry data, exists of "Frederick of the
Red Beard," until we find him setting out with his uncle, Conrad III.,
in the spring of 1147, to join the second crusade against the Saracens.
The date of his birth is given as 1121, his father being Duke Frederick
of Hohenstauffen (surnamed "le Borgne") and his mother Judith, daughter
of Henry the Black, Duke of Bavaria; opinions are divided on the
subject of his birthplace, some writers mentioning the castle of
Veitsberg, near Ravensburg, others the town of Weiblingen, in Nuremburg;
but since the main interest of his history does not begin until his
succession to the paternal duchy of Swabia, and his departure for the
Holy Land in 1147; his marriage with Adelaide, daughter of Theobald,
Margrave of Vohburg, in 1149; and finally his accession to the imperial
throne in 1152, we must resign ourselves to silence on the subject of
his earlier years, and take up his history from the death of Conrad
III., and that monarch's choice of him as a successor, to the exclusion
of his own son.
[Illustration: Frederick Barbarossa.]
From every possible point of view, Frederick of Hohenstauffen justified
his uncle's choice: endowed with the most brilliant qualities of heart
and mind, he had already earned the suffrages of a great portion of his
new subjects by the manner in which he had distinguished himself during
the above-mentioned campaign in the Holy Land; moreover, as the son of
Frederick of Hohenstauffen and Judith, daughter of Henry the Black, Duke
of Bavaria, Ghibelline by his father and Guelph on his mother's side,
there seemed good ground for the hope that in him might terminate the
differences of the two contending factions. The election diet was
accordingly assembled at Frankfort, and it being there decided to
confirm Conrad's choice and to invest Frederick with the imperial
insignia, he was proclaimed King of the Romans and of Germany, and
anointed at Aix-la-Chapelle on March 5, 1152, the ceremony being
performed by Arnoul de Gueldre, Archbishop of Cologne. Not lightly or
eagerly did the new emperor accept these dignities, but after mature and
careful consideration of his capacity to undertake the responsibility of
guiding Germany through shoals and quicksands which had little by
little enveloped the fair countries won three hundred years before by
the valiant Charlemagne.
Tidings of ever-recurring disturbances determined Frederick to make an
expedition into Italy, as soon as affairs in Germany would admit of his
absence; but there was much to be done first--many princes to be dealt
with, who, from different motives viewing his election with
dissatisfaction, would take immediate advantage of his departure to
bring all the horrors of civil war into his dominions. Bavaria, for
example, had been wrested from Henry the Lion, Duke of Saxony, during
his minority, by Conrad III., and now he conjured Frederick, with tears
and threats, to restore it to him. This, by dint of much diplomacy,
Frederick effected, and the result was that for some years he gained a
stanch ally, instead of a designing enemy.
Having decided this quarrel and several others, into which we need not
enter, Frederick prepared for that first expedition into Italy which, as
we have seen, he had resolved on from the commencement of his reign.
At the head of a numerous army he passed into Switzerland, and encamped
near the lake of Constance; when, under the banner of Count von
Lenzburg, the inhabitants of the three "cents" or cantons of Schwyz,
Uri, and Unterwalden came to do homage and offer their feudal service in
the field. At the same time, and while still engaged in assembling the
forces with which to march into Italy, deputies from the city of Lodi
arrived, and throwing themselves at his feet, besought his interference
against the oppressions of the Milanese, who had declared for Adrian
IV., and whose town was indeed the very hot-bed of the papal faction.
The emperor instantly sent letters commanding the Milanese to make full
reparation to their unfortunate neighbors; but on perusal of his behests
they tore the missives in a thousand pieces, and flung them in the faces
of the messengers, sending back by them as their sole answer an open
defiance of his authority. Enraged at this insolence, Frederick crossed
the Alps, but, too prudent to risk an immediate attack on Milan,
strongly fortified and well garrisoned as it was, he sought rather to
weaken it through the other towns with which it was in league, and
accordingly besieged in turn Rosate, Cairo, and Asti, which all fell
into his hands, and ended with the total demolition of the city of
Tortona, which he reduced to ashes, afterward even levelling the ground
upon which it had stood. This last victory proved the accuracy of
Barbarossa's judgment, as regarded the remainder of the fifteen towns of
the so-called "Lombard League," most of which, intimidated by his
energetic measures, sent ambassadors to do homage on their account. He
now seized the iron crown of Lombardy; was crowned at Pavia and again at
Monza, after which he entered into negotiations with Adrian IV. for the
performance of the coronation ceremony at Rome.
We now come to the second marriage of our hero, when Beatrix, the only
child and heiress of Reinold of Burgundy, became his bride; and an echo
of the old romantic halo which surrounds that incident in Barbarossa's
life reaches us, even in this prosaic age, as we picture to ourselves
the gallant, handsome Frederick riding off with his trusty knights to
deliver the fair heiress of Count Reinold from the gloomy prison in
which her uncle, Count William, had confined her in order to appropriate
the rich domains of "Franche-Comté." Over hill and dale sped the
chivalrous band till the grim castle was reached; a halt was ordered,
and an envoy sent to summon Count William to yield both his fortress and
the fair prisoner. At first the count meditated resistance, but on
looking out and investigating the number of Frederick's followers, he
decided to submit, and congratulated himself on his determination when
Frederick's messenger said, on behalf of his master, that if the castle
were not given freely it would be taken by force, the fair Beatrix
released, and her gloomy prison walls be prevented from hiding any other
like iniquity by being razed to the ground. Prudence, we hear, is the
better part of valor, and evidently Count William shared in the opinion,
for we learn that he promptly let down the drawbridge, over which
Frederick and his followers passed, and whence they presently issued,
bearing in their midst the quondam prisoner, the lovely Beatrix, whose
eyes, moist with tears of gratitude, looked trustingly in the handsome
face of her deliverer. So now, away, away to the old church at
Wurtzburg! deck the streets, ring the bells, bid priests don their
vestments and burghers their best, and fall in merrily with the gay
procession that comes to do honor to Barbarossa and his fair bride!
Thus far the little romance of our emperor and Beatrix; now to return to
the sober and solemn statement of facts. During 1157 and the next year,
Frederick busied himself with a campaign against Poland, and compelled
Boleslaw, the king, to acknowledge the supremacy of the head of the
German Empire, and to take the oath of fealty, barefoot and with his
naked sword hung round his neck; after which he bestowed the kingdom
upon Wladislaw of Bohemia, whom he had appointed regent of the German
states during his absence, and whom he now took this opportunity to
reward. New disputes began to arise between Pope Adrian and Frederick;
and when at Besançon some indiscreet remarks of His Holiness as to
having "conferred the imperial crown" on, and "accorded it by favor" to
Frederick, were mentioned, that monarch waited no longer, but collected
a fresh army, and marched into Italy to chastise the pontiff, who, on
hearing of his approach, and scared at the prospect of such a calamity,
hastened to explain away his words as best he might. The emperor
accepted his excuses, but as he was so far on the road, determined to
attack Milan, whose inhabitants had increased the anger he already felt
for them by rebuilding Tortona (which, as we know, he had totally
destroyed), and expelling the inhabitants of Lodi from their dwellings
for having called him to mediate on the subject of their wrongs. With
100,000 men (for almost all of the Lombard cities had, either willingly
or by force, contributed their militia) and 15,000 cavalry, he advanced
toward Milan and laid siege to it. The inhabitants made a most obstinate
resistance, and were at length only vanquished by the impossibility of
finding food for the vast population within the walls. A capitulation
was effected, by which the emperor contented himself with very moderate
conditions, the most severe being that which condemned the city to the
loss of her privileges; but when the chief nobles came to deliver the
keys, barefooted and with every token of humility, he forgot their
former insolence, and only required, in return for his clemency, a
renewal of the oath of fealty and their promise to rebuild the town of
Lodi.
To put an end to these ever-recurring disputes Frederick called together
a diet at Roncaglia, to which each of the Italian towns was commanded to
send its representative; the four most learned jurists from the
university of Bologna being also requested to attend, for the purpose of
drawing up a document which should conclusively define the relations
between himself, as head of the empire, and the vassals and imperial
cities of Italy. But when the learned quartet had heard all the points
of dispute, and were in possession of the facts, their decision gave
such almost limitless power to Frederick that several of the towns, and
more especially Milan, refused to abide by it and prepared for further
resistance.
Frederick had not been idle all the time these schisms were raging; on
the contrary, he had made a third expedition to Italy, from which he had
been compelled to return, leaving the flower of his army lying dead,
stricken down with pestilence. The next six years were spent in settling
various disputes and complications which had arisen in Germany during
his absence; in causing his son Henry, a child of only five years of
age, to be crowned at Aix-la-Chapelle; and in keeping some sort of check
on his vassal, Henry the Lion, who, now that he had increased his power
by a marriage with Matilda, daughter of Henry II. of England, was no
unimportant person in the empire, and moreover one extremely liable to
become sulky and unmanageable if he had a chance, or the smallest
grievance to complain of.
The news now spread through Europe of the reconquest of Jerusalem by
Saladin. These tidings effaced every other thought; the new Pope, Urban,
forgot the thunders of the Church which he had been keeping, like a
second sword of Damocles, suspended over Frederick's head; the emperor
buried his resentment; a general peace was concluded, and Barbarossa,
then in his seventieth year, gave the regency of his dominions to his
son Henry, and joyfully taking up the cross--accompanied by his son
Frederick, the flower of German chivalry, and an army of 100,000
men--marched by way of Vienna to Presburg, and thence through Hungary,
Servia, and Roumelia.
Isaac Angelus, the Greek emperor, who had promised to furnish the German
troops with provisions and assist Frederick in all ways, with the
proverbial duplicity of his nation, broke his word, harassed him on his
march, and threw Count von Diez, his ambassador, into prison; which
treachery greatly incensed the emperor, and caused him to give
permission to his soldiers to plunder; the results being that the
country soon bore sad traces of their passage, and that the two
important towns of Manioava and Philippopolis were completely destroyed.
This reduced Isaac, professedly, to a state of contrition; and when
Barbarossa advanced toward Constantinople, the Greek emperor, anxious to
conciliate him, placed his entire fleet at his disposal for the
transport of the German army. Scarcely had they entered Asia Minor
before Isaac's good resolutions abandoned him, and leaguing himself with
another faithless ally of Frederick, the Sultan of Iconium, they beset
the German troops, and did everything they possibly could to make the
march more difficult; however, though they tried both fair means and
foul, their evil practices resulted in their own defeat, and the
Oriental Christians soon found they had every reason to congratulate
themselves upon the arrival of such a champion.
The fanaticism of a Turkish prisoner, who, acting as guide, wilfully
sacrificed his life in order to mislead Frederick's army, involved the
Germans in almost endless troubles by taking them amidst pathless
mountains, where the horrors of starvation and the entire lack of water
added yet more miseries to their condition. Brave where all were
despairing, encouraging his men with cheering words and hopeful looks,
their gallant old leader rode on, and footsore, half-starved, thirsty,
and wretched as they were, the men tried, though tears of agony filled
their eyes, to raise the notes of their Swabian war-song to please him.
Frederick, Duke of Swabia, hastened forward with half the remaining
army, and gaining a victory over a body of Turks, pushed on till he came
to the town of Iconium; when, scattering the enemy before him, he put
the inhabitants to the sword, gained a great booty, and, more than all,
food, drink, and rest for his weary men.
A body of Turks had meanwhile crept round the town, and surrounded the
columns which were advancing under Barbarossa; worn out with sorrow,
hunger, and thirst, even his courage gave way for one moment, as he
thought that this band of Turks had only, in all probability, reached
him by passing over the dead bodies of his brave son and the gallant
Swabians; the aged monarch bowed his head, and the scorching tears of
rage ran down his cheeks; then dashing his hand across his eyes, he
cried: "Christ still lives! Christ conquers!" and shouting to his
followers, they fell on the Turks like lions; Barbarossa with his own
hand sending many a one to his last sleep. Then they marched forward to
Iconium, where rest and plenty awaited them, and where the old emperor
doubtless found much cause for thankfulness when he threw himself into
the arms of his brave son.
At Iconium the army stayed for some time, the soldiers being in sad need
of repose; and then starting afresh, continued as far as the little
river Saleph; when, the road being encumbered with cattle, and the
emperor impatient of delay, he commanded his men to cross the stream and
plunged into the water. Here this hero of many combats, this brave and
wise king, was destined to end his long life in an obscure river, of
which he had probably never heard; the current was too strong for his
horse, and, nobly as the animal battled against it, both rider and steed
were drowned.
The Germans, almost frantic with grief and dismay, made frenzied efforts
to regain the body of their leader; and, when at last they succeeded,
they conveyed it with much loving care to Antioch, where it was buried
in St. Peter's Church.
With the history of the crusade after the death of our hero, we have
nothing to do further than to say that his son, Frederick, took the
chief command and led the brave followers of his gallant father until a
pestilence occasioned his death at Acre, in the following year, when the
remnant of the once formidable army returned to Germany.
[Illustration: The Death of Barbarossa.]
How Barbarossa still lingers in the hearts of his people even now, when
all these hundreds of years divide his time from theirs, is shown by
a dozen legends. Most of these profess an utter disbelief in the death
of their loved emperor; one of them tells how, in a rocky cleft of the
Klyfhaüser Mountains, Barbarossa still sleeps calmly and peacefully; he
sits before a marble table into which and through which his red beard
has grown; his head is bowed on his folded hands, and though he from
time to time lifts it and opens his eyes, it is but to shut them again
quickly, for the right time of his awakening is not come; he has seen
the ravens flying round the mountain, and his long sleep will only end
when their black forms are no longer visible, when he will step forth
and avenge the wrongs of the oppressed.
Another story says that he is lying in the Untersberg near Salzburg, and
that when the dead pear-tree which, thrice cut down, plants itself
afresh, shall bud forth and blossom, the gallant "Rothbart" will come
out into the bright daylight, hang his shield on the pink-flowered
bough, throw down his gauntlet as a gage to all evil-doers, and, aided
by the good and chivalrous few who will still be inhabitants of this bad
world, will vanquish cruelty and wickedness, and realize the dream of a
golden age they have for so long anticipated.