"And now tell me, father, am I not as wretched as King David when he
was pursued by Absalom? The Count of Champagne is my own wife's
brother."
"I have long known the crafty arts of the Imperial Court, and the skill
with which it has led away others in its train," replied Peter. "The
Count Henry has been tricked. He swore to execute a treaty whose
results he could not foresee. We must seek a way by which his oath to
Barbarossa may not be violated."
"Can you conceive of any other means of escape from this difficulty
than that of inviting the Pope to attend the council?"
"I perceive none other at present; I must reflect."
"But there is not a moment to be lost; who can tell whether my refusal
is not really what Frederic desired; if he will not gladly profit by
this opportunity of allying himself with Henry of England against
France? He is on our very frontiers, ready for the struggle."
"Unfortunately we must dread everything from one who persecutes the
Church."
"It is on this account, worthy prelate, that I implore you to go, as my
ambassador, to His Holiness; assure him of my respect, of my fidelity;
tell him that circumstances over which I have no control, and not my
own free will, have obliged me to invite him to the council."
"There is nothing in this invitation which can be blamed if it be
suitably presented," said the Archbishop, after a moment's reflection.
"There is no doubt of your Majesty's sentiments towards the Holy
Father, and I will gladly undertake to deliver your message.
"God be praised!" answered Louis, joyfully; "you have relieved my heart
of the heavy weight which oppressed it."
"Well," said the aged prelate, "inform the Emperor immediately, that,
in execution of the treaty, you have invited His Holiness to be present
at the council. I feel almost positive that Alexander cannot
consistently go there; but you have saved appearances; the Count of
Champagne will see that his promise has been complied with, and your
enemies will have no further pretext to seek your ruin."
"God speaks by your mouth, father, and I will follow your advice."
"I go to prepare for my journey; may God preserve your Majesty."
"Do not leave me thus; give me your blessing, father," said the King,
kneeling as he spoke.
The Archbishop, without manifesting the least emotion, raised his eyes
and hands to Heaven, prayed for a few moments in a low tone, then
stretching out his right hand, he said with a loud voice, "_Benedictio
Dei omnipotentis descendat super te et maneat semper_."
"_Amen_!" responded the King, who rose and accompanied the prelate to
the door of the apartment.
_CHAPTER XXXIX_.
_UNDER THE OAKS_.
On the day appointed for the interview between the two sovereigns,
Frederic ordered several magnificent tents to be pitched along the bank
of the river which was occupied by the German troops, while on the
French side, Louis and his suite merely sheltered themselves under a
clump of oak-trees.
The King wore a green hunting-dress, a plumed hat, and a short sword.
He had left the city under the pretext of hunting in a neighboring
forest; for he was anxious that the meeting should seem purely
accidental, at least, to the French people, who had a profound contempt
for the Antipope Victor, and were displeased with the alliance between
Louis VII. and the schismatic Barbarossa.
The annoyance caused him by this forced interview, was apparent on the
King's face, and his uneasiness increased as he gazed at the rows of
tents stretching far into the distance. Barbarossa, indeed, had come at
the head of a numerous army, in order the better to enforce his policy,
and all the princes of the Empire were ordered to rendezvous at Laon,
with their several contingents on a war-footing.
The King was accompanied by the Duke of Burgundy and the Counts of
Champagne and Nevers, the latter of whom was a bold and arrogant noble,
bitterly opposed to the papacy. A violent enemy of Alexander, he was
none the less so as regarded Victor, and if he favored an alliance
between Louis and the German Emperor, it was merely through a hope that
this would better enable him to enjoy the fruits of his robberies.
A little later the Primate of France, Peter of Tarantasia and Galdini
Sala, appeared near the bridge. The latter, since the fall of Milan,
had been residing at Alexander's court, and had now come with the
Archbishop of Tarantasia from Cluny, and had apparently been delegated
on some secret mission.
Louis breathed more freely as the time passed without any signs of
Barbarossa, for he began to hope that the Emperor would not come, and
the interview not take place.
"What think you, my lords?" he said. "His German Majesty seems to care
little for his promise. It is late now, and the hour fixed upon is long
since passed."
"Some unforeseen occurrence must have detained him," said Henry of
Champagne, who had observed his sovereign's secret satisfaction; "but
he cannot fail to be here soon."
"Would it not be well," remarked one of the nobles, "for your Majesty
to inform him of your arrival."
"No," answered Louis; "what use is there of this exchange of messages?
What is the King of France, after all? Perhaps the Emperor has already
forgotten this trifle."
"He has been detained by some state affairs," said the Count of Nevers.
"And I suppose, until these affairs are settled, the King of France
can wait. Very well indeed," replied Louis. "But we will wait no
longer--although there are some persons in France who desire our
humiliation, and perhaps even our dethronement!"
These words, intended for the Count of Champagne, were uttered with
some bitterness.
"Those men are nothing more than traitors!" said the Duke of Burgundy,
who was aware of the relations between Henry and the Emperor.
The Count scowled angrily at the speaker.
"I did not believe," added the King, "that in all France there was a
man base enough to sell his honor, even if there were any one capable
of paying him in false promises."
"The passions, and particularly covetousness," resumed the Duke,
"corrupt the heart and dispose it to the commission of evil deeds; but
it is positive that France does contain persons, who are ready to sell
their country."
"Are you perfectly assured of the existence of such persons?" asked
Champagne, who, with difficulty, restrained his anger.
"I have heard them spoken of," replied the Duke.
"A man of honor is cautious in accusing others."
"Each man knows whether or not he is a slave to Barbarossa," answered
the Burgundian. "I can only watch the traitors as long as they wear the
mask of loyalty; but if they ever venture to show their faces, they
shall pay dearly for their perfidy."
"Why this discussion, my lords?" said the Primate, who desired to
prevent a still more unfriendly retort from the King's brother-in-law.
"I am sure that, whenever France shall unfurl her _oriflamme_, Burgundy
and Champagne will fight side by side beneath its folds."
"I am always at the post to which my honor and my oath assign me!" said
the Count proudly.
"There can be no doubt on that point," added Louis; "you are united to
us by the double bond of vassalage and relationship."
The Count of Champagne made no reply; his pride forbade further
discussion. In ordinary circumstances, he would have mounted and ridden
away without a word of apology; but now he was obliged to yield, but he
did so with a firm resolution of revenging himself on the Burgundian
Duke, on the first favorable opportunity.
Louis appreciated the danger of a quarrel between his vassals, and he
hastened to change the subject.
"The hour has passed," he said, looking at the sun. "You, my lords, can
bear witness that it is not we who failed to appear."
"But the Emperor will certainly come; wait a little longer," urged the
Count Henry.
"No, Count; our self-respect forbids it, and I am tired of waiting.
Frederic shows clearly by his absence, that his consideration for your
sovereign is not excessive, and I am almost inclined to believe the
reports which attribute to him pretensions to supremacy over all the
princes of Christendom."
"As it may please you, Sire. However," continued Henry of Champagne,
"you may possibly regret the results of your too hasty departure."
"The results! What mean you?"
"The Count means to say," replied the Duke of Burgundy, "that the
enemies of France may profit by the opportunity to accuse you of
breaking your royal word, and to invade our frontiers."
"Let them come if they wish; we will meet them!"
Louis looked towards the German camp, and under the influence of
returning fears, was about to wait still longer, but the Duke opposed
him.
"You cannot, Sire, without compromising yourself. If the Emperor means
war, all your concessions will not prevent him from fixing a quarrel on
you."
"I commend France to the care of the Almighty," said the feeble
monarch; "but be kind enough, noble Duke, to ride over and salute the
Emperor in my name."
"Heaven preserve me from it! I never meet the enemies of France except
on the battle-field. It is at the head of my men-at-arms that I will
pay my respects to Barbarossa;" and the fiery soldier mounted his
charger.
"Since it is necessary, reverend father," said Louis to Peter of
Tarantasia, "that you bear the Pope's message to the Emperor, have the
kindness to explain to his Majesty that I have complied with all the
conditions agreed upon, and that I have waited beyond the hour
appointed."
"You may trust to me," said the pious Archbishop.
After another glance behind him, the King mounted, and rode with the
Duke of Burgundy towards Laon.
The Count of Champagne leaned with a gloomy air against a tree, and the
savage William of Nevers, smiling ironically, approached him.
"The Burgundian," he said, "speaks as though he meant to dispute
Barbarossa's claim to the Empire."
"You seem jovial, my lord," replied Henry.
"And why should I not be? The heroic soul of the Duke of Burgundy will
inspire the King. Our valiant sovereign will not keep his promise. As
Alexander will not come, Barbarossa will be obliged to bring Victor.
Ah! there is a worthy man for you; he thinks it no crime to rob a rich
convent! But, if Pope Alexander keeps his place, the devil! I will have
to do penance!"
Whilst the Count of Nevers was explaining the motives which attached
him to Frederic and Victor, the two ecclesiastics were conversing
privately.
"King Louis may be sincerely devoted to the Holy See," said Galdini
Sala; "but he will not go to war against Barbarossa. I have grave fears
for the Holy Father; he will be incarcerated in some lonely cloister,
and will stay there, strictly guarded, until his last hour. Meanwhile,
Victor, Frederic's devoted slave, will rule as the Emperor may dictate;
and the court prelates will follow his bidding, until the whole Church
falls into a deplorable condition."
"These fears are only human; but God's decrees are inscrutable, and
beyond the comprehension of mortal man," replied the Archbishop. "How
did Louis receive the news of the negotiations with the English King? I
know that your mission is to sound him on that subject. But here comes
the Emperor;" and he pointed to a cloud of dust in the distance.
The cavalcade advanced rapidly; the armor glittered in the sunlight.
Princely banners, and the sumptuous robes of the nobles, could be
distinguished; and at last the escort drew up before the tents.
_CHAPTER XL_.
_A TRUE BISHOP_.
Followed by Rinaldo and the French Counts, the Emperor entered his
tent, chafing angrily at the announcement that the King had gone.
"He imagines that he has acted royally," said Barbarossa; "is it not
ridiculous to think that peace is endangered, because one of us came to
the bridge a little later than the other? But how is it with the chief
article of the treaty? Will the Cardinal Roland be present at the
council?"
"The Archbishop of Tarantasia will give you every explanation on this
point, Sire," replied the Count of Champagne. "All that I know is, that
he refused the royal invitation."
"The invitation! What does this mean? Do you think that Roland can be
influenced by an invitation? You will be good enough to remember, my
Lord, that in our treaty, sworn to by you in the name of your King, it
was stipulated that Roland should be forced to appear before his
judges."
"Most certainly, Sire; and I will perform what I have promised; but I
cannot oblige the King to do as much."
"Still it is the only way to prevent him from violating his oath,"
added William of Nevers.
There was a pause, Frederic's brow darkened, and his eye cast a
threatening glance towards France.
"It is evident," he resumed, "that Louis hopes to deceive us, but we
will not permit it. The king of France will learn that no one can, with
impunity, baffle the plans of the mightiest nation of the earth!
Chosen, by the grace of God, to protect the Church, it is our duty to
establish order and even to punish kings! Count, you will freely
express to your sovereign our discontent.--We insist on his executing
every article of the treaty which he has sworn to.--Remember that you
have pledged yourself to bring the Cardinal Roland before the Council,
either with or without his consent. If the King of France desires, as
ardently as we do, to promote the peace and well-being of the Church,
he will spare neither entreaties nor threats to decide the French
bishops to take part in the Council. The non-observance of the most
insignificant clause, in a solemn treaty, will be looked upon by us as
a declaration of war. We will invade the country, and we will compel
the King not to leave the Church and his subjects in the hands of a few
bigoted fanatics. My lord Chancellor, order this message to be written
and sealed."
Dassel bowed and left the tent, well satisfied with his master's
energy.
"You will perfectly understand, my lords," said Barbarossa, suddenly
changing his tone, "that we receive the Archbishop as an envoy from the
King of France, and not as Roland's messenger."
The French nobles left, with Rinaldo, to be presented to the German
princes.
"What a mixture of weakness and bravado!" said the Emperor to himself.
"I shall regret a war, but, at any cost, France must cease to be the
protectress of the Pope."
His soliloquy was interrupted by the entrance of the Archbishop, whose
noble and saintly appearance produced a great impression upon the
monarch. Accustomed to see the prelates of his Court covered with
finery and sumptuous robes, he was surprised at the Archbishop's simple
and unpretending attire. Although well versed in the religious customs
of the day, and aware of the wide-spread reputation of Peter of
Tarantasia, Frederic was surprised at the inward emotion which he
experienced at their meeting. On the other hand, the prelate
appreciated the Emperor's position, and knew his hostile intentions
towards the Church,--but he gazed calmly upon him, as though he would
read his inmost thoughts.
"I am happy to be able to know you personally, worthy father," said
Barbarossa, as he invited the prelate to be seated. "I have heard so
much in your praise that I can only desire that all our prelates would
take you as their model. Allow me to say one word: I know that Roland
has refused our invitation. I should have been prepared for it; some
characters are emboldened rather than subdued by danger. Still I am
curious to learn the motives which have dictated his refusal."
"The motives were not invented by him, Sire. Our Holy Church teaches
that her chief cannot submit to any earthly tribunal."
"In this I recognize the Cardinal's pride!"
"The Holy Father implores you to persecute the Church no more; it
grieves him to see everywhere the laxity of morals, the universal
discord which has been produced by your fault. He complains, above all,
that you leave certain episcopal seats vacant, or else that you confer
them upon men who are under ecclesiastical censure."
"Naturally we do not choose Alexander's partisans for Bishops. This
would be only to warm the viper in our breast. But I am wrong in
excusing myself to one who is accused; it is contrary to reason. If we
were willing to apologize to Pope Alexander for all the insinuations
which he has made against us, our honor would not support the trial!"
Frederic spoke with much bitterness and rose to indicate that the
audience was at an end. The prelate remained quietly seated; he
understood Barbarossa's disposition perfectly, and he regretted to see
so influential a sovereign follow a course which could not but cause
great evils to Christendom. He deplored the fatal consequences which
were inevitable, and he endeavored to make them evident in terms the
novelty of which must have surprised the Emperor.
"Your Majesty is right in insisting upon the recognition of the
Imperial supremacy. But cannot the Holy Father solicit a similar favor;
that is, the acknowledgment of his spiritual independence?"
"Doubtless! We have no pretensions to interfere in any way with Papal
matters."
"Still, you do interfere with them in the most outrageous manner!
The vicar of Jesus Christ has scarcely place on earth to rest his
feet! Everything has become Imperial: we have Imperial bishops,
Imperial convents, Imperial abbots, and, in the schools, Imperial
instructions!--If that be just, what need is there for a Pope?"
This striking truth, uttered with perfect calmness, scarcely awakened a
memory in Frederic's soul.
"Your reasoning," he replied, "is false and unjust at the same time!
The whole earth belongs to the Pope, and he can cast his fisherman's
net where it may please him; we, the protector of the Church, will
certainly not hinder him."
"Yes, you will allow him to act so long as he is obedient to your
orders; but if the Pope should wish to be his own master, if he should
wish to reign independent of all human control, what would happen
then?"
"There is but one sovereign lord upon earth," said the Emperor,
proudly; "the laws are only the expression of his will, and all power
exists by it alone!"
"It may be so for earthly concerns; but for spiritual matters, God has
chosen another sovereign, the chief of religious unity, the supreme
shepherd of Christianity--the Pope!"
"The Emperor also belongs to the fold of the faithful," said Frederic,
quickly, "so that the Pope must be the Emperor's shepherd, his
spiritual father; am I not right?"
"Most certainly; God said to the first Pope, 'Feed my sheep;' he made
no exception to the Emperor."
"And yet the Roman Emperor bore the title of _pontifex maximus_! How do
you explain that, my lord Archbishop?"
"The Roman emperors were pagans."
"Be it so; I am and will be entirely a Roman emperor!"
"A pagan head on a Christian body!"
"No!" answered Barbarossa; "but go to Byzantium; examine the _Pandects_
of Justinian; you will see there that an alliance may exist between a
pagan on the throne and Christianity."
"You support yourself on Justinian? but what was Justinian's code? Was
it not the destruction of all liberty, the abrogation of every right of
humanity? Great God!" added the illustrious prelate, standing
sorrowfully before the Emperor, "what error! what peril! But the Pope
has not yet worn the yoke of slavery; the nations of the Christian
world will not permit it."
"Very well! But if, in case of disunion, the people leaned towards the
spiritual, it would be easy to lessen the Emperor's person, and
overthrow the tyrant."
"One moment, Sire; you give an incorrect interpretation to our meaning.
The father of the faithful ought to oppose all those who wish to
exercise tyranny and oppression. The Gospel delivered mankind from the
slavery imposed upon it by paganism. Believe me," added the old man, in
a prophetic tone, "the day that the Popes shall cease to protect
liberty, anarchy and revolution will convulse the world."
Barbarossa shook his head with an incredulous and discontented air.
"The Emperor of the East has no Pope," he replied, "and yet he reigns
peacefully."
"You are again in error, Sire! Mark attentively what is going on in
Byzantium. What do you see there? An exhausted and dying kingdom, a
weak and corrupt clergy, a host of ecclesiastics knowing no law but the
Imperial will; an effeminate people without morals, and puffed up with
vanity and servile ideas. Is this the state to which you would reduce
your brilliant Empire?"
"You exaggerate; matters are scarcely in so bad a state as that."
"Ah, Sire! they are in an infinitely worse condition. Great God! I see
it now; Salisbury was right!--I deplore it, but he was right."
"Salisbury!" said Barbarossa, starting, for he had a great respect for
this illustrious scholar. "May I ask in what he was right?"
Peter sighed deeply.
"Why do you hesitate, my lord Archbishop? You know the opinion which a
wise man entertains of our actions; why then do you seek to conceal it
from us?"
"Salisbury occasionally writes to me, Sire," said Peter, with an
embarrassed manner.
"Well, what has he written about us?"
"I received his letter a few days since," replied the prelate, drawing
a parchment from his bosom; "it contains a dissertation upon the
present condition of the Church, and particularly upon your designs.
But it tells me no more than your Majesty himself has just stated,
still I was unwilling to believe it."
"Speak!"
"You will it so; make up your mind then to listen to some bitter
truths.--
"Led astray by the principles of the Justinian Code, Frederic dreams of
the renewal of the brilliant Roman empire in its complete and most
deceitful form. Either he does not understand the great Christian
Empire, or it is insufficient to gratify his pride. He has less desire
to be the protector of the Church than to be her master. The Pope must
steer St. Peter's boat according to the Emperor's will; the bishops
must be nothing but abbots of the Empire, and religion must be
subordinate to the ends which the Government proposes. As he has
destroyed the free life of the Church, so does he subvert the liberties
of the people. Instead of preserving the ancient manners and customs of
his people as is his duty, his plan contemplates the reorganizing of
everything. If this Emperor ever succeeds in his designs, it will be by
the abolition of all independence. Still, what prince could be compared
with Frederic before he became a tyrant, and from a Catholic Emperor
degenerated into a schismatic?'"
Frederic heard this discourse with marked astonishment, and more than
once was on the point of interrupting; at last, at the word schismatic,
he colored with anger, and exclaimed,--
"Enough! the letter of this learned personage is full of exaggerations!
The name of schismatic cast in our teeth seems to be looked upon as an
excuse for everything.--Because Victor's humility seemed to us more
worthy of the Holy See than Roland's pride, we are called the destroyer
of Church liberty!"
"Pardon me, Sire, it is my duty to say a few words in reply," remarked
Peter. "You speak of Victor's humility, but Victor is, after all, your
creature; a plaything which your breath sends whither it will; a puppet
which you have chosen to obey all your caprices:--And should Victor be
the supreme Head of Christendom?"
Barbarossa was confused by such language. The old man's frankness, his
calmness and dignity, obliged him to listen. There was no animation in
his manner, but his clear voice sorrowfully expressed his feeling of
duty.
Barbarossa looked at him in silence.
"You will acknowledge, Sire, that the Pope must be free and independent
to discharge his ministry. What would become of an enslaved Church,
dependent upon the will of a temporal ruler? Great God! to what
baseness would she not be obliged to descend; what infamous enormities
would she not have to sanction, under the pretext of State policy! A
religion which acts in the interest of human passions instead
of opposing their indulgence, could not aid in the salvation of
souls--Everything would be subverted; sin would invade the whole world,
and would extinguish Christ's holy light, and with it all faith, all
desire, all power of good!--And this," concluded the prelate, with
energy, "this is the state of degradation to which you would reduce a
Church which has existed for a thousand years!"
The Archbishop had risen, and stood before the Emperor like a prophet
of old.
"It is well! enough of this; we understand independence, but within
certain limits."
"It is not independence, but duty which dictated my words, Sire! May
this appeal of an aged prelate, ready to appear at the judgment-seat of
God, not be lost upon you! It is more difficult to speak the truth to
princes than to conceal it. I have told you naught but the truth. May
Heaven in its mercy enlighten your Majesty!"
The Archbishop bowed, and left the room.
"By my faith!" cried Barbarossa; "there goes a worthy man; one not
often met with! His words might have turned from its determination a
spirit less decided than mine!"
_CHAPTER XLI_.
_A HARDENED SINNER_.
The Duke of Austria had scarcely dismounted, when he was informed that
Galdini Sala requested an audience. At the time of the siege of Milan,
Galdini's name had been so often mentioned that the Duke felt almost a
sentiment of pride at being thus brought into personal relations with
one who had exercised so weighty an influence over the besieged.
Consequently, he hastened to the tent where Sala was awaiting him.
The Archdeacon held in his hand a roll of parchment to which a seal was
attached. This was the usual form of correspondence between persons of
distinction. "With a low bow, Galdini presented the letters, but
scarcely had Henry opened the roll and glanced at the seal, when his
face assumed an expression of astonishment.
"What do I see? a letter from His Holiness! to me!" he cried. "There
must be a mistake here; this letter must be for the Emperor, or the
King of France!"
"It is addressed to Henry, Duke of Austria, and is highly important,"
said Galdini, respectfully.
The Duke cut the silken thread, and to the great surprise of the
prelate, read over the Latin brief; for his studies in the Convent of
Fulva had enabled him to do without a secretary.
"Clemence at the Papal Court! I thought she was in Germany! His
Holiness is enraged at this criminal act--_scelus et flagitium_; yes,
it is indeed a crime," said the Duke, continuing to read, and
accompanying the reading with his own commentaries. "The divorce is
declared null and void. The Lion is excommunicated and banished. By my
faith, these are the words of a true Pope! I must speak to the Duke on
the subject. I fear it will be labor in vain!"
"Your Highness will be faithful to the voice of the Holy Father,"
replied Sala. "Your Highness alone, among all the princes in the
Imperial camp, is worthy of the Pope's confidence, and he charges you
to protest against this sinful deed. It should be the Emperor's duty to
protect the unhappy Duchess, but Frederic is not opposed to the
divorce!"
"It is most true; it is a miserable measure of political expediency in
the interest of territorial aggrandizement," said Henry, warmly. "The
Emperor's villainous Chancellor has directed the whole business. My
cousin's daughter lived on the best possible terms with her husband,
before the interference of that felon. Ah! princes will not see to what
their ambition leads them, until the halter is around their necks."
"What has all this to do with the divorce?"
"You do not understand the plot," resumed Henry; "the repudiation of
Clemence must make trouble between Saxony and her relations; the union
of those two houses would have thwarted all Frederic's designs against
the liberties of the people, the clergy and the nobility."
"Frederic evidently seeks to assure his supremacy," said Galdini,
endeavoring to excite the Duke to a fuller confession.
"There is no doubt about it. Why does he not assign incumbents to the
vacant fiefs? He keeps them for himself. He owns already all the
territory from Rottemburg to Besancon. He sows discord among the
nobles, adds the fiefs to the crown, and has organized in the Church an
army of corrupt Bishops! Tell me, is not that one way of assuring his
Imperial supremacy?"
"It seems so to me."
"That is not all. The Empire is to be divided according to the old
Eastern system. One of my followers, who was with Barbarossa during the
last crusade, has heard him express his admiration for the Byzantine
Empire. Barbarossa needs a capital, another Constantinople, and he has
already made his selection. It is Mayence! Wait until he returns to
Germany, and you will see whether this city be not deprived of all her
liberties, as a punishment for Arnold's murder, and if he does not make
her his capital!"
"But why do you aid him with your troops?"
"Because I am alone in my way of thinking! Besides, I have already
spoken frankly to the Emperor, and he is well aware that I will not
further his guilty projects. I have spoken frankly to you, that you may
repeat my words to the Holy Father. Alexander must not yield; he is the
only protector of right and liberty!--I am going to fulfil your
message, and that, too, in your presence."
The Duke raised the curtain, and left the tent; a moment afterwards he
returned with the Saxon prince.
"This is a messenger from His Holiness, Pope Alexander III.," said the
Austrian; "he has given me this letter."
And he began to read it off in German.
"This is perfectly useless," said the Lion; "neither you, my dear Duke,
nor Alexander, are called upon for an opinion; the sentence has been
pronounced; the affair is concluded."
"The sentence has been pronounced, and by whom?"
"By Pope Victor, the legitimate chief of Christendom."
"Is it Henry the Lion who speaks thus?" said the Duke of Austria, with
more dissatisfaction than surprise. "No one ever despised Victor more
than you have done! Who has ever called him the Imperial puppet as
often as you? and yet, to-day, he is for you the chief of Christendom!"
"The last reasons are often the best!"
"Because you need some excuse to justify your misdeeds!"
"Misdeeds? Duke, what does this mean!" said the Lion, with an air of
menace.
"Must I then call evil good, and good evil? No, Duke of Saxony, not
yet; not even in Frederic's camp! Do not misunderstand my frankness,
Henry; your divorce is a wrong, a crying injustice, a stain upon your
name."
"Your interference in my private affairs is insulting to me, my lord!"
said the Lion, sullenly.
"Is not Clemence my relative?"
"Too distant to warrant such excessive interest."
"The duty of every knight is to defend the rights of helpless woman,"
replied the Austrian. "Besides, I am fulfilling the Pope's mission. He
has excommunicated you; is that of no moment?"
"Very well! your message has been delivered; the rest is my own
business."
"What! You will put yourself in opposition to the whole Church, you
will endanger your own soul, while you violate the rights of chivalry?"
"Enough of this; spare me these superfluous representations. At my own
formal request, the Holy Father has annulled my marriage; neither you,
nor any one, even Alexander, can make me reverse my decision."
As he spoke he turned his back upon the Duke, and hastily left the
tent.
"You see there a fair instance of the respect paid to one's conscience,
and the sanctity of marriage, in the Imperial court," said the Duke,
sadly. "Frederic set the first example of a divorce, and he will find
scores of imitators."
"Alas!" Galdini exclaimed.
"I am uneasy for Clemence's safety. The fate of the unfortunate Empress
Adelaide is still unknown; she has disappeared, and Clemence too might
be spirited away, if I did not prevent it. I will go to-day, and
solicit from the French King a strong escort to conduct her to her
relatives. The unfortunate princess will travel through Lorraine and
Bavaria to Austria under the protection of my troops. She will there be
able to end in peace her blighted existence; for, even should Henry
return to kinder sentiments, she can scarcely look for much happiness
in her husband's society."
Galdini Sala thanked the Duke, and they separated after the latter had
repeated his assurance of unalterable fidelity to Pope Alexander.
"Recommend me, my house, and my country to the blessing of His
Holiness--and comfort poor Clemence."
Whilst the archdeacon was on his way to the tent where the nobles were
assembled, Barbarossa was taking leave of the Count of Champagne, and
their parting was so affectionately cordial that Sala was astonished.
"I will soon make a visit to that beautiful castle of yours, of which
my cousin appears so fond," said Frederic to the Count, as he was
mounting on his horse.
"I thank your Majesty for the honor you will then favor me with," said
the Count, bowing respectfully and dashing off, followed by his
retinue.
Without a moment's loss of time, the Count of Champagne returned to his
castle, and Nevers presented the Imperial despatch to the King.
The same evening Manases and Champagne held a long and secret
interview. The Emperor's letter had greatly embarrassed Louis, for
Rinaldo had rather exaggerated Frederic's warlike language, so that it
differed little from a formal declaration of war. The King paced
uneasily in his room, cursing the Emperor, the Count of Champagne, and
the obstinacy of the Pope. At last he seemed to have made up his mind,
and sent for the Chancellor Manases, Alexander's most bitter enemy.
"This is my opinion," said the latter, after a perusal of the
communication; "if you continue to support Roland, war is inevitable;
besides, I have learned from another source, that an alliance is about
to be concluded between Frederic and the English King. We consequently
are in danger of being attacked on both sides at once."
The King's anxiety increased.
"We have fulfilled the duties of a Christian," he said. "I have
defended the Pope as far as I am able. No one can compel me to subject
my kingdom to all the horrors of a merciless war."
The wily courtier expected this conclusion, and it was decided to send
a message, couched in very emphatic language, to the Holy Father at
Cluny.
The Chancellor recommended that it should be intrusted to a partisan of
Alexander, and the Archbishop of Tarantasia was selected. It is
probable that some other choice had been made by Manases and the Count
of Champagne; for when the prelate arrived at Court, on the next day,
the Count announced boldly to the King that Peter neither would nor
could bear the despatch.
"Have I then no longer a right to choose my own ambassadors?" asked
Louis. "What have you against the Archbishop?"
"This holy man cannot suit you, Sire," he replied. "He will kiss
Alexander's hand and will address him, with every mark of respect, a
request which ought to be communicated as an order. The Pope will be
under a false impression; he will refuse to come, and war will break
out. Rather send a man in armor with a strong escort, that he may, if
needs be, enforce the execution of your orders."
"Employ violence!" exclaimed the King.
"Why are you astonished, Sire? gentle measures have been tried without
result, there is nothing left but compulsion."
"It would be an unheard of crime to drag the Chief of Christendom,
against his will, before a tribunal composed exclusively of his
enemies!" said Louis. "I will not permit it!"
"Very well; but in that case, the Count Henry of Troyes and Champagne
will keep his oath."
"One moment, Count, for the love of God! Do not be so hasty, cried the
terrified prince. I know your unfortunate oath, but you have scarcely
reflected that it would be treason!"
"My oath is an oath even when pledged to an enemy; and yet, Sire, you
would make me a perjurer and a felon? Either you will send a proper
message to Alexander, or I will go over to the Emperor."
"Since your Majesty cannot resist the Count's arguments," interrupted
Manases, "would it not be well to intrust him with this mission? The
situation is delicate; it is necessary not to render it still more
dangerous."
After a moment's hesitation, the King consented.
"Go, in God's name," he said; "but I adjure you, on your conscience,
respect the Pope, respect the Chief of Christendom."
_CHAPTER XLII_.
_THE ABBEY OF CLUNY_.
The Abbey of Cluny belonged to the most illustrious of the religious
orders, and controlled two thousand convents distributed throughout
Christendom and Palestine. It was not only a pious sanctuary, but also
a school, the renown of which extended beyond the seas. Unlike the
monks of the other orders who were chiefly engaged in agriculture and
field labors, the peaceful denizens of Cluny were entirely devoted to
study and the pursuit of science, and attached a greater value to their
manuscripts than to any material treasures. Many were constantly
occupied in transcribing the works of the Fathers of the Church, and
even those of the pagan writers of antiquity. The volumes intended for
the church service were richly illuminated in order to be more worthy
to appear upon the altar. The Church itself was enriched with pictures,
sculpture, and works of art. The dormitories, the halls, and the
refectory were filled with masterpieces, and resembled a vast museum
destined to defend the fine arts against the ravages of time.
The cathedral, which was the largest in the world, was a marvel of
Roman architecture, and everything in it so magnificent, that Saint
Bernard could not resist expressing his discontent.
"What use is there of this amazing height, this immense width and
endless length, of these sumptuous ornaments, which attract the gaze of
the faithful, but distract their attention?" he wrote to Peter, the
venerable Abbot of Cluny. "Why all these candelabras studded with
precious stones, these costly paintings and works of art? Is it through
honor to the Saints that you walk over their images and spit upon those
of the Holy Angels? Why these sublime representations on a pavement
which must be covered with dust?"
In the opinion of the austere monk of Citeaux, the study after the
beautiful was far inferior to that of godliness, and he imagined that
the former injured the latter. The most liberal hospitality was
lavished in the abbey on all travellers of every rank; women only were
excluded; and precise rules specified the manner of the reception of
strangers according to their rank and quality. At different times Cluny
had entertained Pope Innocent IV., twelve Cardinals, with their entire
suite, two patriarchs, three Archbishops, and eleven Bishops, and the
King of France, with his mother, brother, sister, and the whole court;
the Emperor of Constantinople, the heirs-apparent to the crowns of
Castile and Aragon, and several Dukes with their knights and retinues.
Still the good monks continued to live in rigorous asceticism; and
their liberality to others often reduced them to extremities of
privation. They watched over the poor of the neighborhood, and each
week the pious brothers sought out the sick and wretched, to administer
succor and consolation. On one occasion, during a famine, the Abbot
Odilon sold the church ornaments, even to a crown, which had been
presented to the monastery by the Emperor Henry II., in order to
relieve the wants of the suffering members of Jesus Christ.
Although hospitality was considered an obligation by all the cloisters
of the Catholic world, Rechberg was surprised at the scale on which it
was dispensed at Cluny; and the presence of the Pope increased the
concourse of travellers. Each day came and went messengers to and from
all parts of the world; and Erwin heard on all sides a perfect Babel of
the most different tongues. Pilgrims were arriving from Greece and
Spain, from Muscovy, England, and Arabia, to prostrate themselves
before the Apostolic throne. The Roman Empire alone was not represented
at Cluny, through fear of the powerful displeasure of the Emperor
Barbarossa.
Rechberg admired the learning, the energy, and the grave dignity of the
monks, and never before had he experienced so deeply the influence of
Catholicity. The Pope appeared to him to be the heart of Christendom,
uniting the two extremities; for Frederic's authority was as nothing
compared with that of the Holy Father. When he contrasted the Emperor's
creature, the false Pope Victor, with the venerable Pontiff, the Head
of the Church, he smiled with pity and contempt.
"My godfather will be obliged to subdue the universe," he said to
himself, "if he wishes to make the Holy Pope his vassal."
Erwin had resided in Cluny for about a fortnight; the novelty at first
amused him, but Antonio's words constantly recurred to his memory, and
although full of anxiety to ascertain their truth, a sentiment of duty
retained him at the abbey;--he could not desert the unfortunate
Clemence.
One day, upon leaving the princess, now more resigned and collected,
since she had ascertained with what paternal interest she was looked
upon by Alexander, Rechberg was met by the lay brother, a worthy man,
who hitherto had done him the honors of the monastery.
"Are you already at liberty, brother Severinus?" asked the Count. "I
scarcely thought it was yet time for vespers."
"The good fathers are about going to the choir, and we will take
advantage of their absence; you would lose a great deal, Count, if you
were to leave us without seeing the pictures in the refectory."
"I don't doubt it; let us go there now." As they were crossing the
court-yard, where crowds of strangers were walking beneath the shade of
the oak-trees, Rechberg suddenly perceived a man whose face appeared
familiar; he had seen him at Castellamare where he had been pointed out
by Hermengarde. It was Nigri's servant, Cocco Griffi, and our hero
stood still, watching his movements and hoping for an opportunity to
address him.
"There is no want of curiosities here," said brother Severinus,
remarking his guest's astonishment, "for we have every variety of
costume and language. Look at that Arab with his bright eyes and white
teeth; he and the grave and haughty Castilian by his side are envoys
from the King of Navarre." Just then Erwin lost sight of Cocco Griffi.
"Our painters often come here," resumed the monk, "to study faces and
details of which I know nothing; I saw the other day in one of the
artist's cells a representation of the devil, which was the living
image of a Moor who had been here;--I will show it to you."
Rechberg had not been mistaken. Cocco Grim, in company with a monk,
entered a two-storied house where persons of the middle class were
lodged. The monk mounted on the steps to examine the red marks traced
upon the wall, and then, turning towards Cocco,--
"It is here that Antonio lives," he said, "if you want him."
Griffi went in. The spy was waiting, and at first looked up as though
not well satisfied with the interruption; but as soon as he recognized
his visitor, he rose and went forward, cordially.
"Cocco! is that you? What good wind brings you here?"
"A miracle, my dear Antonio; when you know it you will be surprised,
and, it may be, somewhat provoked."
"I will wager that your master has been doing something absurd; is not
that the case?"
"Yes, you have guessed it. My master and the lady of Castellamare are
on their way to Cluny; I was sent ahead to announce to you this
masterpiece of diplomacy."
Antonio looked at Griffi with amazement, and then broke out, angrily.
"This is a beautiful piece of business, indeed! That ass never had any
brains! He will spoil everything! The young girl will come here; she
will meet the Count, and all my plans will be thwarted. What
imprudence! I suppose he has told her that Rechberg is here with the
Duchess, and that on his return he is to marry Richenza; is that it?
"Yes, all but the marriage."
"That's it; he concealed the only thing which he ought to have told."
"Oh, he talked of nothing but Erwin and Richenza, Richenza and Erwin."
"Well, what then?"
"Then! oh, Hermengarde asserted that she was under a vow to make a
pilgrimage to Cluny, and that she would no longer delay it."
"The pretext was a good one,"
"Then my master offered to accompany the young person."
"And she refused?"
"Two or three times, but Pietro insisted. They will be here to-morrow
at the latest, and my master promises to conduct the affair to your
entire satisfaction. You may count upon his gratitude."
Antonio smiled as he heard the last words, for he knew that Pietro
possessed immense wealth in Lombardy.
"The affair has miscarried," he said to himself, pacing the room. "But
Hermengarde cannot lodge in the cloister; she must stay in the village,
and as Cluny opens its gates but once a week to women, it will be a
mere chance if she and Rechberg meet."
He turned towards Griffi. "Where are you living?" he asked. "Near the
gate; one of the windows overlooks the street."
"Be on the lookout, and let me know as soon as they arrive."
_CHAPTER XLIII_.
_IN THE CLOISTER_.
Meanwhile Rechberg had reached the gate of the cloister; it was opened
at once, and, with his companion, he entered a small courtyard.
"It is too soon yet," said the porter, when the monk had informed him
of the object of their visit; "but you can wait here."
They stepped forward towards a low wall, festooned with creepers, which
shut off the garden, exclusively reserved for the brotherhood. Erwin
could see and admire their grave and dignified deportment, and remarked
their difference from the German monks, who were usually occupied in
out-door pursuits; whereas at Cluny they passed their lives in the
practice of interior virtues, and the advancement of science.
At this moment two lay brothers approached the wall, talking with an
earnestness which indicated the importance of their subject. They spoke
gravely and in measured tones, although Rechberg could not understand a
single word of their conversation, he imagined that it was probably a
discussion of some intricate problem of philosophy.
"What language is that?" he asked.
"Greek, Count," replied Severinus, in a low voice; "every known
language is spoken in our community; Latin and Greek, and Arabic and
Hebrew; they are perfectly familiar with all of them, and with
more still. I like to hear them talk Hebrew, it is such a strange
dialect,--so guttural, that it seems uttered rather by the throat than
by the tongue. I doubt, whether the Franks could articulate a single
syllable of it; but I think you will have a chance to judge for
yourself during our walk. Ah! here come two of your artists!--The very
ones of all whom I prefer, for they have heart and a soul; whereas some
learned men have nothing but intellect Look, how they argue. Let us go
a little nearer; I will wager that their discussion turns upon Homer,
Pindar, Apollo, or Horace."
Erwin listened.
"You deny then all value to pagan sciences, brother Odilon?"
"By no means. I simply remarked that religious faith was the true
domain of true science. The pagans had their own belief, and
consequently their own school of art; but a Christian's art is as far
superior to a pagan's as Christianity is to paganism."
"Do you think that our poetry is better than that of Horace?"
"Yes, inasmuch ours celebrates truth; his, only pagan errors. But,
brother Colomban, in all that relates to style, the pagans are our
masters, for Christian poetry is still in its infancy."
"We have admired together the statues lately received from Rome; do you
think we are capable of doing anything as perfect?"
"We must make a distinction here," replied Odilon. "The pagans attained
a rare perfection of form; but is the body the only, the real object of
art? No; the sculptor must give a spirituality to his work! The most
skilful pagan would never have been able to chisel out the pure image
of the Holy Virgin."
"I think I understand your meaning," said Colomban.
"It is the same with poetry. The fountain head of all sublimity, the
source of the beautiful is God; the nearer the poet approaches that,
the more truly artistic he becomes, and, in proportion as his ideas
diverge from the Divinity, so much farther is he from perfection."
The two monks disappeared at a turn of the path.
"Well, what think you? are not those men true lights of the faith?"
asked Severinus. "They have great privileges, they can go to Rome and
further, too, if they wish, and sometimes are excused from attendance
in the choir."
At this moment the bell rang; all conversation was immediately
suspended, and each monk took his place with a regularity which
surprised the young German, who could almost fancy that he was looking
at a well disciplined troop of soldiers, as they defiled before him in
stately procession.
The solemn strains of the organ were heard, and the chants began.
"Now, let us make good use of our time," said Severinus, hurrying
forward. "Let us see the refectory first; it is only a refectory, it is
true, but its equal does not exist in France or Germany."
They entered the hall, near the door of which was a large crucifix
artistically sculptured. At the upper end of the room was the Abbot's
chair placed so as to overlook everything, and his table, to which the
chief dignitaries of the monastery were often invited, stood upon a
raised platform. Long oaken tables, with richly carved supports, were
ranged methodically, and covered with a white cloth, at which, as
Severinus assured the Count, more than four hundred guests could be
seated; for Cluny counted at that time four hundred and eighty monks,
many of whom lived as hermits in the neighboring forest.
On one side stood a single table covered with black cloth.
"The _pulmenta defunctorum_ are served there," replied Severinus, to
Rechberg's curiosity. "This, is the place of the pious Duke of
Aquitain, the protector of our convent; that, is for his saintly wife
Ingeburge."
And so he went on enumerating the eighteen places.
"But all those of whom you speak are dead," said Erwin. "What is the
use of spreading a banquet every day, of which they cannot partake."
The monk looked at Erwin with astonishment.
"Do you not remember," he said, "that the Archangel Raphael assured the
young Tobias, that it was better to give alms than to build up pyramids
of gold and silver? It is for this that every day the deceased
benefactors of Cluny feed the poor. Do you not believe that the
blessings which they receive in Heaven are worth more than precious
stones?" Rechberg was too fervent a Catholic to doubt of the
correctness of this view of the subject; it was a praiseworthy and
pious custom.
His attention was directed to the pictures on the walls; many of them,
such as the hunt of Saint Eustace, and the fight between Saint George
and the Dragon, he recognized at once; but there were others so strange
in all their details, that he was obliged to ask for explanations.
On their way from the refectory to the artist's apartments, as they
crossed a long gallery, Rechberg stopped before a bronze statue, which
attracted his admiration.
"It is the image of our late Superior, Peter the Venerable," said
Severinus, very respectfully. "It was cast about two years since, and
those who knew him during his lifetime, affirm that the likeness is
striking. We will have it made in silver one of these days, when our
convent is richer."
The galleries were filled with statues of saints and holy men, in wood
and stone; some of recent date, others of ancient workmanship; so that
it would have been easy to trace, step by step, the progress of the
art. But the Count was little versed in such matters, and what was
more, he could not forget Cocco Griffi.
"My lord Count, you must visit the library, even if it is only for a
moment," said the monk, opening the door. A score of desks were
arranged in a half-circle around one of larger size, which Rechberg
perceived, at once, was a masterpiece of sculpture. This work of art
was ornamented with arabesques, and with flowers, birds, and animals of
every description; upon it was a book in Greek characters.
"They write the books here," said Severinus; "the reader is seated at
the upper desks, with the copyists in front and around him. You can
judge for yourself, (and he offered the manuscripts to Rechberg,) if
they know their business. And our fathers attend to everything! We have
twenty copies of the Holy Scriptures. Nearly all the works of the early
Fathers, and many of those written by pagan authors and priests are to
be found in our library. Every year some of the order go through France
and England, and even as far as Greece, in search of rare manuscripts,
of which four copies are immediately made."
After leaving the cloister, and crossing a vacant yard, they came to a
house with large windows. The rooms were filled with evidences of the
sculptor's art; figures and images of all sorts were standing there on
pedestals.
"Is not that a splendid angel's head?" said Severinus; "the features
are so sweet and delicate, and the folds of the robe so natural! And
that Holy Virgin! how beautiful and gracious she appears! I do not
think it possible to give more life to a work of stone."
But Rechberg was thinking of something else, and sympathized very
little with the artistic enthusiasm of his companion.
"It is a pity that we cannot go in," said Severinus, pointing to a
placard on which was written, _Porta clausa_. "The door is closed and
the painter is at work; but it is a great loss, Count."
"I cannot see everything in one day," replied Erwin, who was delighted.
"You would be obliged to stay at Cluny for months if you would do
justice to everything. The church alone, with all its pictures, and
portraits, and mosaics, would require a long examination."
"Whose dwelling is this?" asked Erwin, as they passed before a handsome
house.
"The Holy Father lives there. May God protect him! His enemies give him
no rest. He was forced to fly from Italy, and with difficulty can
obtain an asylum in France."
"With difficulty? Are the French, partisans of Pope Victor?"
"God preserve us from it!" said Severinus; "but we fear the fierce
Barbarossa, who has taken it into his head that Victor must be Pope,
whether or no!"
Erwin smiled at the dread which his godfather inspired,
"This Barbarossa is a cruel man, and they tell dreadful stories about
him," continued the monk. "It appears that he wants to be Pope and
Emperor at the same time, and this desire is unchristian. He is now on
the frontier with a mighty army, in order to force the king of France
to give up the Pope. Woe to us if this merciless sovereign comes here!
He will destroy our convent as he destroyed Milan."
"You have too bad an idea of the Emperor," said Rechberg; "why should
he cherish evil designs against your abbey? Is it because you show
hospitality to Alexander? I assure you that the Emperor is too
chivalrous to inflict a punishment for the accomplishment of a duty."
He spoke so warmly that Severinus almost regretted his frankness.
"I have never yet seen the Pope," continued Erwin. "Do you think it
possible?"
"It is difficult," was the reply. "The Holy Father takes but a few
moments' repose each day, when he comes to this garden. From morning
till night he works or receives visits and ambassadors or letters from
every part of the world. We are often compelled to refuse admittance to
persons of distinction."
As they reached the door which led to the enclosure reserved to the
brotherhood. Severinus drew a key from his girdle and took leave of
Erwin, who thanked him warmly, regretting that he would accept of no
gratuity for his trouble.
"Do not insist, Count," he said; "gold or silver would be useless to
me. The best reward for a monk is that which results from a
consciousness that he has done his duty."
Rechberg immediately proceeded to look for Antonio, for Cocco Griffi's
face had haunted him ever since they had met, and he began to imagine
that there must be some connection between Pietro's servant and the
fears which he entertained about the fate of Hermengarde.
_CHAPTER XLIV_.
_POPE ALEXANDER III_.
Two noblemen were on their way towards the modest dwelling of the Holy
Father: they were the Archbishop Peter of Tarantasia and Count
Dietrich, the envoy of the primate of France. Peter had been in Cluny
for the last two days. The message had been calmly received, but the
form did not deceive His Holiness for a moment as to its true import.
Alexander guessed everything; he knew that Louis would not dare to
resist Frederic, and that Peter had brought him not an invitation, but
an order. On the other hand, Count Dietrich conveyed to the Pope the
assurance of the entire and perfect devotion to him of the Archbishop
of Rheims.
As soon as the Primate had discovered the intentions of his royal
brother, and the orders given by him to the Count of Champagne, he
hastened to his presence, with the hope of effecting a change of
policy. But either through fear of Barbarossa's violence, or influenced
by the demands of his own vassals, Louis, instead of listening to his
brother's arguments and representations, broke out into bitter
accusations against the Pope. Convinced of the fruitlessness of his
attempts, the Primate at once dispatched Count Dietrich to Cluny, to
inform the Pontiff of the danger with which he was threatened.
They were received, upon their arrival, by a steward who showed them to
a room in the upper story, where they found the celebrated founder of
Notre Dame, the Archbishop Maurice of Paris, and three cardinals. While
the chamberlain repaired to Alexander's private apartment, the news was
communicated to the prelates, who were thunder-struck.
Alexander was standing before a desk covered with parchment, which he
was examining attentively; dictating at the same time to a deacon who
took down his words, for the Pope possessed the rare talent of being
able to do several things at once.
The Pontiff's exterior indicated the energy of his mind, and his strong
physical constitution enabled him to support the fatigues which the
cares of the Church rendered necessary. His features were strongly
marked and displayed great firmness tempered by benevolence. His eye
was calm and decided; a gracious smile was playing around his mouth;
but his brow was furrowed by the afflictions he had experienced. He had
been formerly a professor in the University of Bologna and shone, by
his great attainments, in all branches of learning. Although the
untiring champion of the rights and liberties of the Church, he was
personally humble and modest. He hated no one, not even Barbarossa, his
successful and implacable adversary.
Alexander's costume was of the most simple description: a long white
garment reached to his feet; above he wore a short red tunic, with full
sleeves, the dalmatica of that age: from his shoulders a white woollen
pallium, with a black cross, folded over on his breast, whence it hung
almost to the ground, after the manner of the ancient stole. On his
finger the Pontiff wore the pastoral ring, and his head was covered
with a round mitre ornamented with a number of small crosses.
As soon as he had been informed of the arrival of the French envoy, he
left his work and repaired to the hall of audience, where Count
Dietrich and the cardinals were in waiting.
All knelt at the entrance of the Head of Christendom, who advanced
towards the Count and extended to him his hand which the latter kissed
reverently, and then took his seat with the cardinals, on chairs placed
in a semicircle around the Papal throne.
"Most Holy Father," he said, "your devoted son, Henry, Archbishop of
Rheims and Primate of France, has sent me to give warning of the danger
which threatens your personal safety. A short time after the departure
of the Archbishop of Tarantasia, a partisan of the Emperor, the Count
Henry of Champagne presented himself before the king, and so alarmed
him that His Majesty has promised to abandon your holy cause in order
to avoid the danger of a quarrel with Barbarossa. The Count of
Champagne, uniting his forces with those of William of Nevers, the
Bishop of Orleans, and other enemies of your Holiness, is now marching
towards Cluny, with the intention of arresting your Holiness, and
giving you over to Barbarossa. My revered lord has sent me to you, now
to advise, that you avoid this captivity by seeking refuge on English
soil."
During this speech the features of the cardinals indicated their
consternation, but the Pope never lost his coolness for one instant,
although his face gave signs of the pain he inwardly experienced.
"I thank you, Count," said the Pontiff, calmly. "Be so kind as to
assure our worthy son, the primate of France, of our paternal and
sincere affection; but we cannot follow his advice. We shall remain
here, although we may be led into captivity, if such be the design of
God. It is not the first time that the head of the Church has been
forced to yield to violence. If God in his infinite wisdom; and in the
interest of His holy name, judges me worthy to suffer even death
itself, let His will be done."
"Permit me, Holy Father," said the cardinal, John of Naples; "your
resolution does not appear to me to be prudent. As soon as you have
fallen into the power of the tyrant, your enemies will drag you before
the council and throw you into a dungeon. Octavian, who styles himself
Victor, would then rule in the name and according to the wishes of the
Emperor, while the successor of St. Peter would be in a prison. Avoid
this peril and the whole Catholic world will rise to resist the
schismatical Emperor and his bishops. Did not St. Paul fly from danger
in order to be able to spread more widely the divine word?"
"Worthy brother," replied the Pope, "in this particular we have been
long a zealous disciple of St. Paul; we have fled from Rome, we have
fled from Genoa. Where, hereafter, could we hope to avoid the
inveterate pursuit of Barbarossa?"
"The Greek Emperor Manuel," replied John of Naples, "has, on several
occasions, offered you men and money to defend Rome and drive the
Germans from Italy!--Your Holiness cannot be ignorant of the fact that
Venice and other powerful cities will give strenuous aid to this
enterprise."
"But, my lord Cardinal, what conditions did Manuel exact in return,"
said Alexander.
"He demands the guaranty of the Imperial crown to him and his
successors. Now, as this crown belongs to the Pope, he can dispose of
it as he pleases."
"Very true!" said Alexander; "but, in that case, would we not seem to
deprive the German princes of their rights in order to gratify our own
personal spite? The wisdom of our predecessors has for ages placed the
crown on German princes, and should we from purely personal motives
presume to abrogate the acts of their wisdom? No, my lord Cardinal! may
God preserve, keep, and enlighten the Emperor Frederic."
"Perhaps it would be well," said the Cardinal William of Pavia, "to
request aid from the English king. His Camp is only ten miles from
here, and a simple request from your Holiness will be sufficient to
have his troops put at your orders."
This proposal awakened the Pope's astonishment; his irritated glance
was fixed upon the Cardinal.
"We take refuge at the English Court!--we trust to a man who has
violated the bonds of matrimony, and whose cruelty never hesitates in
shedding innocent blood!--We put ourself in the power of one who
acknowledges no laws, who has nothing of human in his constitution, who
tramples underfoot divine and ecclesiastical laws and precepts!--But we
should be in a position still more degraded than that which poor Victor
occupies with the Emperor."
The Cardinal had nothing to reply to this and bent his head in silence.
"Perhaps Spain is the only country in which your Holiness can find an
asylum?" said Maurice of Pavia.
But Alexander interrupted him at once.
"Spain!---oh! poor Spain," said the Pope sadly. "You have not yet
learned, my dear brothers, the news which reached me yesterday. The
Moors have mustered all their forces; they have summoned from the
deserts of Africa their countless hordes of savage bandits, who will
throw themselves upon Spain like the sands of the desert. And to
think," continued the Pope, "that the Emperor, instead of fighting
against the Crescent, encourages the enemies of our holy religion by
his own impious struggles against the Apostolic See. My brethren, these
are bitter trials!--May God preserve the faithful from persecution,
prison, and death!--May Christendom be not divided by schism!--May we
remain at the helm to guide our bark through the troubled sea."
He was silent and with bent head forgot his own situation in reflecting
on that of the Church. On their part, the prelates remained speechless
with emotion.
At last Alexander raised his head, and his look was calm though
dejected, as he declared his unalterable determination not to seek to
escape by flight from the danger which now threatened him.
"You will be good enough, Cardinal," he said to William of Pavia, "to
take care that all the archbishops, bishops, and prelates whom we have
admitted to the reception of the royal envoy be invited to the reunion.
Our intention is, perhaps for the last time, to speak openly in order
to defend the rights and the liberties of the Church."
He rose as a signal that the audience was at an end. All who were
present knelt piously, received the Pontiff's blessing, and bowing
respectfully, left the room.
"Oh, my Lord and my God!" said Alexander to himself, as he sought the
little oratory in which he usually said mass.
He knelt devoutly before the altar, where a golden dove contained the
Body of his Redeemer. The vicar of Christ had come to implore the aid
of his divine Master. He prayed long and fervently; his features by
turns assumed the expression of grief, consolation, and resignation;
and when the rays of the setting sun shone through the red windows of
the chapel, they shed a halo of glory around the head of the still
kneeling Pope.
_CHAPTER XLV_.
_A KNAVE'S STRATAGEM_.
"In any case," thought Erwin, "Antonio must be aware of Griffi's
presence at Cluny."
He sent his faithful Gero to the Italian quarter to look for Antonio,
but he was not there. "He usually walks in the public square among the
strangers," said the squire; "but I don't know where he has hidden
himself to-day."
The day passed without any further result, but the next morning Antonio
was announced. The Count received him coldly.
"We can go to Laon at last, my lord Count. Henry the Lion persists in
his designs, even at the risk of being put under the ban of the Empire;
and the Duke of Austria has sent a strong escort to accompany the
Duchess to her home. It was a prudent measure; for the poor lady would
have fared badly if her husband had thought proper to use violence."
"Where did you receive these details?"
"From an old acquaintance who met the Pope's envoy, Galdini Sala, at
the camp."
"Have you no other news?"
"None."
"Did not Pietro Nigri's servant pay you a visit?"
Antonio started, but recovered himself promptly.
"Yes, Cocco Griffi came to see me; but I did not intend to speak of a
visit which was not a pleasant one for your Lordship."
"Speak freely; you have nothing to fear."
"I know that, but I dislike to wound those whom I esteem. Pietro Nigri
has sent to request me to meet him on a matter of great importance; for
you must know that we are intimate friends; this ought to suffice you."
"Not at all. Why this invitation, and what is this important business?"
"The accomplishment of a great design."
"Which has reference to Hermengarde?"
"Since you mention her name, I will confess that it has. But compose
yourself; nothing is lost yet; as we return to Laon to-morrow, we shall
have time enough to see your betrothed and remind her of her promises."
Erwin grew pale and red by turns, and then became very serious. Turning
his back upon the Italian, he walked towards the window to reflect.
"May I ask," inquired Antonio, after a brief pause, "whether you will
leave to-morrow?"
"Leave! and what for?" answered Rechberg, dreamily. "Ah! well,--yes,
to-morrow."
And he left Antonio, who soon after might have been seen upon the road
leading from Cluny to the neighboring village. Accustomed to pick up
information from every source, he approached a man who was going in the
same direction as himself.
"Do you know," said the stranger, "that they wish to capture the person
of His Holiness? The Count of Champagne is on his way with a strong
party of knights and varlets to seize and give him up to the Emperor,
who will put him to death."
"That is a very likely story, my good man!"
"You think it is an invention of mine, do you?--But I tell you that I
saw him and his daughter Richenza in the village last night."
"With his daughter?" repeated the Italian, looking with stupid
amazement at the stranger.
"Yes, with his daughter and a troop of his retainers; but I swear that
they shall not give the Pope up to Barbarossa. The people will rise in
his defence."
Without listening further to the conversation of the old man, Antonio
began to reflect over the fact of Richenza's presence at Cluny. It
seemed so strange, so unlikely, that he could attribute it only to the
designs of the Emperor to enforce the marriage with his cousin, as soon
as possible.
When he arrived at the village, Pietro hailed him from a window, and on
his entrance received him with every demonstration of friendship.
"Let me recover a little, my dear Pietro; it is all so extraordinary,
that my ideas are somewhat confused."
"What is the matter with you?"
Antonio made no answer.
"Are you mad, Antonio?--Look me in the face! Come!"
"I am undone! I cannot repair what you have compromised. And why did
you tell Hermengarde that Erwin was at Cluny? Your mistake has spoiled
everything."
"Enough, Antonio, enough! I know that I have made a mistake; why then
do you take pleasure in increasing my regrets for it."
"Let me console you, Pietro; the Count of Champagne is expected every
moment."
"What matters that to me?"
"His daughter Richenza is with him; I foresee that the Emperor has
designs on young Rechberg."
"Something may be made out of this circumstance," said Pietro.
"Do you think so? your eyes are at last opened to the light? You begin
to understand now why I was anxious? My plans have failed! It was
necessary for Erwin to leave to-morrow to avoid meeting Hermengarde;
but now he must remain!"
"What have you decided to do?"
"Ask me no questions, but do as I bid, for I have no confidence in you,
friend Pietro; did you speak of me to Hermengarde?"
"No; she only knows that a friend of mine, named Antonio, came here
with me."
"Very well! present me at once, for there is no time to be lost."
They entered a room where two of the retainers were seated at a
chess-board. Their armor hung upon the wall, and their lances stood in
a corner.
"Ubaldo, ask the waiting-woman if your mistress will receive my
friend?" said Pietro to one of the soldiers.
In a few moments the soldier returned with an affirmative reply.
They then proceeded to a sumptuously furnished apartment, where
Hermengarde was awaiting them. She rose as they entered, and greeted
Antonio with a friendly smile. As she resumed her seat, Hedwige placed
two chairs for the visitors.
"This is my friend Antonio, noble lady," said Pietro; "he accompanied
Count Rechberg to Cluny, and I had the good fortune to meet him in the
street."
"I am happy, my lord Pietro, to receive your friend. But what business
has brought Count Rechberg here?"
"He came with the Duchess of Saxony, who, divorced and banished by her
husband, has sought the Pope's protection.--It was a duty he owed to
chivalry," the Italian added, "and the more meritorious that Rechberg
travelled without, or rather against the consent of the Emperor."
"I hope that his generosity will not put him in disfavor with
Barbarossa?"
"I am unable to say anything positive on this point; but I imagine that
Frederic will endeavor to preserve the friendship of one who is about
to be allied to one of the most powerful houses of France."
Hermengarde started.
"From what Rechberg tells me," continued Antonio, "the Count of
Champagne is expected with his daughter to-day. It is possible that the
young Count will retire with the Countess to her father's estates."
"Can I not see the Count, Antonio?" asked Hermengarde; "he saved my
father's life, and we are under great obligations to him."
"It appears to me rather difficult, noble lady. Women are admitted
within the convent only once a week, and I doubt that the Count will
tarry here long; still, if you so desire, I will inform him of your
wishes."
"I beg you to do so, sir, and as soon as possible."
"I am entirely at your orders, noble lady. But if I mistake not, here
comes the Count of Champagne."
The blast of a trumpet and the clatter of horses, resounded in the
street. The Count and a numerous retinue was passing along the road,
and at a few paces in his rear, Richenza was riding along in a showy
costume.
Hermengarde stood motionless, as though her strength was about to fail
her, but, with a violent effort, she recovered herself, and dismissed
her visitors.
"Be kind enough to remember my request, knight," she said to Antonio;
"perhaps you can bring me the Count's answer this evening?"
"I repeat, madam, that I am entirely at your command," replied the
Italian, bowing himself out of the room.
"I say, my friend, you don't mean to tell him anything, do you?" said
Nigri to the other.
"What are you thinking about? I will tell her tomorrow, that the Count
will neither come to her, nor receive her visit. We shall see then what
will happen. It is a capital joke after all, to lead people about by
the nose in this way! But we must be prepared for everything; suppose
that Hermengarde meets the German?"
"Then I will put an end to the joke with a single blow!" said Pietro,
sullenly.
"Well, that is your lookout, not mine. Expect me here to-morrow," said
Antonio.
_CHAPTER XLVI_.
_THE SERMON_.
Stephen, prior of Cluny, entered the Pope's chamber; the Abbot Hugo had
been deposed the same day by the Chapter, on account of his
schismatical tendencies, and the prior had just been informed that the
Count of Champagne had placed guards at all the doors of the cloister.
"The Count is much interested in our affairs," said Alexander. "You
perceive how faithful he is to his master; why then should we be less
so to ours? Is every thing ready for the council?"
"Your orders have been executed, Holy Father."
"I will administer the holy sacrament, and then receive the Count of
Champagne. Is there anything else, my son?" asked the Pope, seeing that
Stephen still waited with a restless and uneasy expression on his
features.
"Holy Father, are you then decided to allow yourself to be made
prisoner by these impious men?" asked the good prior, with an emotion
which touched his hearer. "All the doors are guarded, but you can get
out in the disguise of a monk and escape! I have prepared everything."
"Stephen," answered the Pope, in a tone of reproach, "you have been
busy about many things, when there was but one important;" then, with a
milder voice, he continued: "The hour is at hand, my son; take care
that everything be ready."
"The hour is at hand!" repeated the prior as he withdrew; "our blessed
Redeemer said those words when they came to lay hands on him. Woe is
me! Cluny has become a Mount of Olives, and the Holy Father will leave
it to go to prison, and perhaps to death."
As has already been observed, the church of Cluny was the largest in
the world. The roof was supported by gigantic columns, measuring eight
feet each in circumference; the whole building was ornamented with
pictures and sculpture; a magnificent mosaic pavement covered the floor
of the choir, and the walls were hung with invaluable works of art,
representing the life of Jesus Christ and the Saints, and scenes from
the Old Testament. Gold and silver candlesticks stood upon the altar,
and in front hung a chandelier of four branches, wrought in solid
silver, with lanterns studded with precious stones.
As soon as Stephen had ascertained that Alexander's orders had been
carried out, he proceeded to the cloister, where the Count of Champagne
and thirty men-at-arms had just entered.
Without vouchsafing a glance at the works of art around them, these
advanced boldly into the very house of God, and drew up in line before
the pulpit at the entrance to the chancel. With helmets on, clothed in
complete mail, and their swords drawn, they resembled the horde of
barbarians who had come to pursue Christ in the holy temple of God.
The moment fixed upon by Alexander was approaching. The door of the
sacristy opened, and the procession entered the chancel. At the head
walked the monks and lay brothers, robed in white; then came the
abbots, bishops, and cardinals, in rich costumes, wearing the mitre,
and with cross in hand; last of all, the Pope, in red vestments, and
all the pomp of solemn ceremony.
"Red! the color of the holy martyrs," thought Stephen, as he remarked
the color which had been selected by the Pontiff; "and there are the
executioners!" he added, looking at the soldiers. The holy sacrifice
began. The Pope, entirely absorbed in his devotions, thought of nothing
which was going on around him. The prelates were kneeling upon scarlet
cushions; the monks and lay brothers upon the pavement.
As soon as the office was terminated, and without laying aside his
pontifical robes, the Pope entered the chancel and ascended his throne,
around which were seated the cardinals, bishops, and abbots. The monks
stood in line waiting, with anxious faces, for the end. About three
paces in front stood a table, covered with parchments, at which two
clerks were seated, in order to copy the proceedings. The men-at-arms,
led by Henry of Champagne and the fierce Count of Nevers, advanced
boldly towards the Pontiff.
"Sir Pope," said Henry, "we have been sent to invite you, in the name
of our sovereign lord and king, to appear before an ecclesiastical
council, which is to meet at an early day in Besancon. We can take no
excuse, as your refusal might plunge France and Germany into a bloody
war. Our king has pledged himself by oath that you will be present at
the assembly, and he means to keep his word. You must, then, accept the
invitation graciously, if you do not wish to compel us to resort to
violence."
This harangue, so devoid of all courtesy, excited the openly expressed
disapproval of the audience.
"Count of Champagne!" exclaimed the pious but impetuous Maurice,
Archbishop of Paris; "you not only act contrary to all custom, but you
are also wanting in the respect which you owe to the Head of the
Church. How can you dare to address such words to the Vicar of Christ
in the very temple of God? Would you have us to suppose that the great
vassals of the French crown surpass in irreligion the slaves of the
schismatic Barbarossa?"
Maurice would have continued, but Alexander III. interfered.
"My lord Count," he said, "it is not obstinacy, but duty, which
dictates our refusal to this invitation. We will certainly repair to
Besancon, but not as a culprit. Who convoked the assembly? Men who are
forgetful of their duties, and almost without exception under the ban
of ecclesiastical censure. We cannot submit our cause to any earthly
tribunal, least of all to one acting only under the orders of the
Emperor. Frederic has violated all laws, human and divine, in placing
the Council above the Pope, and the Emperor above the Council. We
rebuke this injustice, and we are ready, in the discharge of our duty,
to suffer every torture, and even death itself."
Alexander paused, and then rose from his seat with an expression of
such majesty upon his features that even Count William himself was
impressed.
The Vicar of Jesus Christ resumed, with a calm, dignified energy which
carried conviction to the minds of all.
"My dear brethren," he said, turning towards the prelates, "it is most
probable that we are about to be again called to tread the road on
which our Lord and Saviour has preceded us, and in which many of our
predecessors have followed Him to martyrdom! Yes, the way of the Cross
alone leads to victory, and to a better world! You have long known the
drift of the Emperor's designs. Misled by the false glitter of Pagan
Imperialism, Frederic aims at ruling over both Church and State. The
Head of Christendom is for him a mere instrument of his own will, and
our holy religion only a means of attaining his ends. We are amazed
that such ideas should have taken possession of a prince whom God has
gifted with so many noble qualities. You are aware, my brethren, that
the Emperor has nominated to all the vacant Sees of his Empire, men who
are unworthy of such positions, without either the learning which is
indispensable, or the spirit of piety which should animate the
shepherds of God's flock. And yet the Apostle has said, 'For a bishop
must be without crime, not proud, not subject to anger, not given to
wine, no striker, nor greedy of filthy lucre; but given to hospitality,
gentle, sober, just, holy, continent.' And yet, he would make the
bishops nothing but the Emperor's slaves! We feel grievously afflicted
at the sight of such grave misconduct. What misfortunes are they not
preparing for the Church! The ecclesiastical spirit is less and less
valued every day; the liberty of the Church no longer exists except in
name, and her property is at the mercy of impious hands. But in the
midst of this deluge of injustice, the Holy See has been established,
by divine Providence, like the rock of order, against which storms and
tempests will spend their fury in vain. So, we solemnly announce to
you, in the name of God, that the Cardinal Octavian, falsely styled
Pope Victor, is excommunicated and put under the ban of ecclesiastical
censure. We declare, in advance, all the proceedings and resolutions of
the Council of Besancon to be null and void. If, until to-day, we have
refrained from launching the thunders of the Church against the scourge
of Christendom, it is because our Lord Jesus Christ has taught us to
pardon. And, although the time for speaking has come at last, we still
pardon the Emperor for all the misery and pain which he has caused us.
You will repeat this discourse, my brethren, in the pulpits of all your
parishes, and you will circulate it, by every possible means, in order
that the Christian world may not be misled into error. As regards
ourselves, we pray God ceaselessly, that he may prevent the success of
the enemies of the Holy Church; may He protect her with His mighty arm!
May he lead to repentance and contrition the souls which have strayed
from her fold!"
"_Amen_, _amen_!" repeated the prelates.
"_Amen_, _amen_!" said the witnesses.