as proud as a peacock?" said Guido to his friends. "That is Count
Pandulph, of Capua, now Lord of Spoleto and Beneventum. He is
traitor to our Basileus--nay, the head of the traitors--and seeking
to win favor from the German Basileus. That gay Roman prince is
Crescentius of the Marble Horse, and by his side is the Count
Benedict of Palestrina and the rich and beautiful Stephania, the
senatrix. Now, watch that bishop on the mule in the train of the
king; notice his keen face, his subtle glances all round, his easy
smiles of welcome, how he fawns on the imperial officers, what airs
of importance he assumes as he waves his blessing to those who salute
him and thrusts aside those who impede his path.
"That is the Right Reverend Luitprand, the famous Bishop of
Cremona--Patriarch of Christendom, as he thinks himself, and Lord
High Parakeimomenos of his Frankish Majesty. Note him and listen to
him. He talks Greek, Latin, Frank, or Hebrew, I am told--even Arabic
at a pinch. He has the Cæsar's ear. We shall hear more of him."
As the Byzantine visitors made their way back to the city, their
guide from Bari was occupied in answering their questions and
satisfying their curiosity. "It looks as if the whole city had been
destroyed by Saracens," said Michael; "I see nothing but ruins
standing amid dunghills and rubbish heaps. And those huge towers of
brick, with battlements of stone, rising out of mud hovels and fetid
alleys. Are those the places of the Roman princes?"
"They look to me like the dens of robbers, piled up out of marble
ruins. See those Corinthian columns and those porphyry slabs,
awkwardly stuck into a huge barrack of bricks. These Romans use the
ancient temples of the old gods as lime-kilns, and the circus and
theatres of the Cæsars as so many quarries to make some gloomy
fortress," said Joannes.
"Woe, woe is Rome!" groaned Symeon; "thy glory is departed.
Desolation has made in thee its home!"
"Not only is the glory of Rome departed, but art, culture, letters,
and manners have gone, too," said Alexios, the artist. "They curse
the Vandals, Goths, Huns, and Lombards; but these Romans to-day are
just as savage themselves, even worse barbarians, for they mangle and
disfigure even their own ruins. All sense of beauty and all
traditions of art seem to have quitted Italy and taken refuge on the
Bosphorus or the shores of the Ægean. They could not decorate the
smallest chapel without our help."
Early on the morning of Christmas day the Byzantine visitors were
conducted into the Vatican Basilica to witness the crowning of the
young Otto with the imperial diadem, the ceremony by which the
politic emperor sought to fix the empire as hereditary in his house,
and instal it in effective control of the whole of Italy. They found
the German troopers strongly posted within and around the Castle of
the Archangel, the frowning bastile which overawed Rome, and rudely
thrusting back the unprivileged mob of sight-seers. From the Ælian
bridge over the Tiber they traversed the long colonnade which led to
the atrium of St. Peter's, with its fountain and the tombs of popes.
There they witnessed the pope, John XIII., and his cardinals receive
the imperial party on the thirty-five steps of the entrance. With
martial surroundings and sacerdotal pomp the mighty Otto, his wife
and son, were conducted into the basilica of Constantine, which had
then been the venerated temple of Rome for six centuries and a half.
The Vatican basilica of the tenth century was, of course, wholly
unlike the St. Peter's we see to-day. It was quite similar to the
restored church of St. Paul's _fuori la Mura_, as we now see it, but
it was some twenty feet longer and a little wider, and had five naves
divided off by four rows of vast monolith columns. There were
ninety-six in all, of various marbles, different in style and even in
size, for they had been the first hasty spoils of antique palaces and
temples. The walls, above the order of columns, were decorated with
mosaics, such as no Roman hand could then produce or even restore. A
grand arch, such as we see at the older basilicas to-day, enriched
with silver plates and adorned with mosaic, separated the nave from
the chancel, below which was the tribune, an inheritance from the
prætor's court of old. It now contained the high altar and the
sedile of the Vicar of Christ. Before the high altar stood the
Confession, the vault wherein lay the bones of St. Peter, with a
screen of silver such as the Greeks called _iconostasis_, crowded
with silver images of saints and virgins. And the whole was
illuminated by a gigantic candelabrum holding more than a thousand
lighted tapers.
The Byzantine visitors were amazed to find the cathedral of old Rome
so utterly different from their own St. Sophia at home. It was
nearly one hundred feet longer and not much less in width. Its
mosaics, its monoliths, and its tribune resembled those of the great
temple of Justinian, but its flat roof, long aisles, rude
workmanship, and want of symmetry roused contempt and pity from the
cultivated taste of the Greek artist. The basilica of St. Peter's
was indeed but a crude adaptation of the law-courts of the Cæsars,
while the Church of the Holy Wisdom was one of the most original
creations in the whole record of human art.
Otto, Adelheida, and their son were conducted by a splendid
procession of nobles and prelates to their appointed places at the
foot of the Confession, where they prostrated themselves in worship,
and then passed on to their thrones. The emperor--for in Rome, at
any rate, Otto was indeed the sole "Augustus, crowned by God"--was
now not only master of Rome, of Northern and Central Italy, but
practically lord of the pope and sovereign in all causes civil or
ecclesiastical. Otto bore himself as in very deed the sovereign lord
of the holy Roman empire. He condescended to beam approval on the
act of his nominee, the holy father, when the pope raised the crown
of gold and placed it on the beautiful head of the imperial boy, whom
he pronounced to be Imperator Augustus, by the will of God. As these
sacramental words rang through the church, all hushed in profound
silence, the whole congregation burst forth into acclamations of
"Long life and victory!" Thrice the shout was repeated; and then the
choir broke forth with their "lauds"--reiterated and monotonous
chants to Christ, angels, apostles, martyrs, and virgins, to grant
the new Augustus the aid of Heaven to support him against all his
foes.
"An impudent travesty of the secular ceremonies at the crowning of
our Basileus, I say," Michael, the diplomatist, broke out, as the
great crowd followed the imperial cortège into the atrium. "They
copy our very phrases and words, as if that could make a barbarian
king a Roman Augustus."
"The Saxon savage seems to fancy himself another Carolus, who,
indeed, was a hero and a Cæsar. He, at any rate, felt some awe of
the empire, and sought to be a good friend to our Basileus and his
empire," said Joannes, the geometer, who knew history as well as
science.
"Nay," said Michael, "Charles once talked of marrying his eldest
daughter, Erythro, to our Basileus Constantine, and Irene, the
Basilissa, sent over the court eunuch, Elisha, to instruct the baby
Augusta in our language, literature, and deportment."
"Did not the pretender Charles, even after his mock coronation in the
Vatican, actually propose to marry the Basilissa Irene himself?" said
Joannes.
"Would that they would ask for a tutor, a professor, or a silentiary,
eunuch or not, to come over and teach them a little of art, letters,
and courtesy," said Alexios.
"Ah!" said Symeon, "if only that blessed alliance between the
Basileus of our house and a Basilissa of theirs, between a Saxon king
and an imperial princess, could be brought about, what tidings of
great joy would it not bring!--peace on earth and good-will among
men. The revered churches of Christ would come together again as
one. The Catholic and the Orthodox faith could then unite to make
Christ and His Cross prevail over the Hagarene, and convert the
pagans of the North and the East!"
The idea of some conciliation--at least some _modus vivendi_--between
the rival claimants to the Roman empire had long floated in the mind
of the politic spirits of the age, and it occupied especially the
designs of that far-seeing statesman Otto himself. The coronation of
his son and heir brought the problem to an acute stage. The
following day the emperor held a long and secret council in the
Vatican palace in which he was installed. The monarch was now in his
fifty-sixth year, his powerful form giving signs of his long career
of toil and of battle; his fair hair was grizzled with years, and his
majestic countenance deeply furrowed with thought and care. He sat
on a dais with his loved queen by his side, and the young Otto, now
imperial crown-prince, between them. The lad was auburn-haired, very
fair, bright, delicate, and small even for his years. He looked but
a puny successor for the mighty ruler of the West.
Otto had called to his council his very politic father, the pope, and
his trusty delegate, the wily Bishop of Verona. Pandulph, Count of
Capua, was there, and beside him the stout old chief, Duke Burckhard
of Swabia. One or two Italian counts and prelates held a lower place
at the board, and among them had been admitted a young Cluniac monk
whose learning, experience, and acuteness had already recommended him
to the pope and to the emperor. He was Gerbert of Aurillac, who was
yet but twenty-seven, but his studies in the schools of Cordova, his
lofty character and profound sagacity, had made him already a man of
mark. And we know that he was destined, under the name of Silvester
II., to prove himself to be one of the greatest of the popes and the
most politic brain in Europe.
The emperor opened the council thus: "Holy father, right reverend
prelates, noble counts, we have called you to this council to make
known our will and to consult you on the means of compassing it. In
the thirty years since we have worn the crown of our father, King
Henry, we have welded into a single realm the German and Italian
lands, and in these later years we have restored the empire of our
glorious predecessor, Charles, and revived the dignity of the Roman
name. The holy father has now conferred the imperial title on our
son, who in due time will have to maintain our office in this holy
Roman empire. It is true that your Otto is King of all German lands,
of Burgundy, Bohemia, Poland, Suzerain of Denmark and of Hungary. We
are King of Italy, and Roman Imperator Augustus; but our rule does
not extend, in fact, to the south of Italy, over Apulia and Calabria.
Those fair lands and ancient cities are still held by him who claims
the imperial name, who rejects our right to use it, by that sovereign
of the Greeks who are schismatics from the Holy Catholic Church, who
deny to our holy father the title of Vicar of Christ on earth, as
they deny us the right to call ourselves the representative of God
here on earth. And beyond the southern limits of Italy lies that
fair and rich island of Sicily, once a bright province of the Roman
empire, but now enslaved by the Saracens and Moors of Africa, who
cruelly ill-use the servants of Christ. It little boots if we rule
from the Baltic to the Bay of Naples, from the Rhine and the Rhone to
the Danube, if South Italy be not ours, if Sicily follow the False
Prophet, and if the Greek who still calls himself Roman emperor reign
within two days' march of Rome. Be it by arms or be it by policy, we
are bent on transmitting to our heir all Italy as his kingdom, and
the acknowledged title of sole Imperator Augustus. Right reverend
and most noble councillors, shall this be done by policy or by arms?"
A long silence ensued, for none knew to which course the emperor
inclined, and they hesitated to thwart his purpose. Otto looked
round and scanned the faces of the councillors.
"My Lord of Capua and Beneventum," he said, "you look like a man who
knows his own mind, and your fiefs lie next to those of the Greek.
What says the Count Pandulph?"
"My liege," blurted forth the impetuous "Iron Head," "my voice is for
war--open, sudden, and to the knife. These Greeks are crafty as
foxes and cowardly as sheep. Hold no parley with them. Give me the
order to march and twenty thousand lances, and we will sweep them
away to the Bay of Tarentum and the Strait of Messina."
"How say you, my lord bishop, you who speak their tongue and have
seen so much of their capital and court?" said Otto to Luitprand.
"My liege, as a civilian and a churchman, I am disposed to prefer the
ways of peace and of policy. The brave Count of Capua would prove
his valor against every enemy of your Imperial Majesty; but the
Lombard and the Calabrian themes of the Basileus are countries most
difficult to invade or to conquer. They abound in mountains,
defiles, and torrents; they are defended by strong forts securely
placed on rocks or on bays of the sea; what is worse is their
fever-breeding plains, which are certain death to the gallant
soldiers of the North. That which is even more important is this:
the Byzantine fleet dominates the sea; the immense coast line is at
its mercy; they can pour in endless supplies, provisions, arms, and
succor. My liege, I advise an embassy to Byzantium. Seek for your
son a daughter of their ruling house, and let the dowry of the Greek
princess be stipulated to be the lands they unjustly withhold from
the King of Italy, the Roman emperor."
"Can you induce their Basileus to yield so much?" asked Otto, with a
smile. "We fear they hold themselves to be at least our equals in
place."
"The fierce Armenian soldier who has married the widow of his
Basileus is proud enough, self-willed enough, and filled with the
ambition of a rebel angel. But they tell me he is losing favor both
with Church and with people. He is beset on the north and on the
east. Nicephorus is at death grapple with the caliph in Asia; he is
menaced by Bulgarians and by Russians; he has enemies and traitors in
his capital and his very palace. His people long for peace. They
are very rich, very politic, and careless of the honor of their name.
If well plied with persuasive words, they will yield. Demand the
hand of Theophano, the daughter of Romanus, with the Italian themes
as her dowry. The empire will regain two noble provinces, our
imperial prince will gain a lovely bride, and the grandson of your
Majesties, a third Otto that is to be, will wear the crown of a sole
and undivided empire, without a rival and without an enemy."
"You look gloomy, most noble duke," said the emperor, as he turned
with a keen eye to Burckhard at his side. "Does this splendid
prospect of our sagacious bishop not approve itself to your valor?"
"My liege," said the duke, stoutly, his huge limbs writhing with
suppressed excitement, "your grace is a German king; I am a German
duke. Your realm, north of the Alps, is of vast extent, and in
perpetual peril of enemies, traitors, and conspiracies. Half of it
has only been won or pacified by your own invincible arm and your
unsleeping wisdom. Danes, Poles, Slavs, Hungarians, and Franks are
not finally crushed. They may pour in again. Not while you live, my
honored chief. But will this fair boy by your side wield the mighty
sword of his father? Will an unborn Otto be able to control the
brave, free, aspiring races of our fatherland? Will younger Ottos
curb the restless mob of Rome and the craft of these Italian barons?
My king, return to your German kingdom, and make that secure for your
house and your people. Let not the house of Henry the Saxon be
drowned in these Italian lagoons, and the blood of Saxon warriors
drench the pestilential plains of Italy. They are brave as men can
be, but they are not proof against the fevers and the wiles--and the
harlots--of this land of sin, of poison, and of ruin."
"The holy father will not admit this apocalyptic picture of the
Eternal City," said Otto, with a lofty smile; "and you forget, most
noble duke, that we are the Roman emperor, crowned of God by his
holiness here. We together are charged by Christ, the Son, with the
care of the Church Catholic and this holy empire, of which Italy is
the oldest and fairest part. What says his holiness?" the emperor
asked, calmly restraining the storm rising between his Teuton and his
Latin councillors.
"Our advice will be given in the private ear of your Imperial
Majesty, as is most meet for the servant of the servants of Christ.
But I will ask you now to listen to my young friend here, this
learned brother, who has seen so much of the courts of Spain, Gaul,
and Italy, whose observations may be useful to your grace."
Otto assented with a gracious smile, and the young monk Gerbert
stepped forward at the summons, his keen face lighted up with genius
and the play of Gallic eloquence dancing in his mobile lips.
"If I presume to speak in this august presence and in so eminent a
council, it is only that I have lived in the lands of the Franks and
in that of the caliph of Spain and have some knowledge of the powers
that lie to the west of the empire and of this Italian kingdom. The
wealth, the power, the science, and the arts possessed by the people
who obey the Ommayad caliph at Cordova are incredible--not easily to
be conceived by those who have not witnessed them. The so-called
Fatimite caliph of Africa has power and resources equally great. It
is he who holds in his grasp the rich island of Sicily. In Asia the
children of the False Prophet have been gaining for generations on
the people of Christ. To the north and to the east of the German
realm there lie Poles, Hungarians, Russians, and Slavonians, who are
hardly within the fold of the Church, who care little for our
sovereign lord, the emperor, and even less for our holy father, the
pope of Rome. It will be a tremendous task to make them Catholic and
Romans. If all this be so, the union of all Christian princes and of
all Christian churches is the one thing urgent and necessary. Let us
pray for the day when all Christian rulers and all Christian men may
go forth in a holy war against the unbelievers, to rescue the tomb of
Christ and of His blessed Mother, of the apostles and saints, and to
preserve the people of our Lord from the blasphemies of Mohammed. It
will soon need all the combined strength of Christendom to protect
the Church of Christ. That will be a most terrible day when
Christian princes and Christian churches are in death-grip with each
other. Would that our sovereign lord, the emperor, could make some
alliance with those who rule in Byzantium! Oh, that old Rome could
be led to stretch forth the hand of brotherly communion to new Rome!
Oh, that one day all those who claim the inheritance of Constantine
might do homage to an imperial descendant of our lord the emperor."
"May I speak, since this matter of state seems to touch so closely
myself?" said the imperial youth, with his sweet smile and bright
look to his father. "I long for such a bride as the bishop describes
the princess--lovely, graceful, brilliant, with all the charm of that
polished court and all the genius of old Greece. Her mother came,
they say, from Lacedæmon, and drew her race from the hero kings of
Sparta, of whom I have read with my tutor in old Plutarch."
"His imperial highness speaks the truth with his usual discernment,"
fawned the courtly bishop; "they who have not seen Byzantium cannot
imagine its splendor and the majesty of its state. An alliance with
the daughter of Romanus, the Basileus, granddaughter of the eighth
Constantine Born-in-the-Purple, as they boast so often, would give
fresh glory even to the son of Otto, to the grandson of Henry. The
empire of the mighty Charles has been sundered for a hundred years.
If it were merged by marriage in the race of Constantine, it would
shine forth again like the sun risen after a gloomy night."
"What says our empress?" asked Otto. "For this touches her deeply,
too, and must move a mother's heart."
"My lord," said Adelheida, still beautiful, thoughtful, and loving,
devoted to the hero of her young dreams, "a Greek princess, graceful,
accomplished, and intelligent, would add fresh lustre and culture
even to your throne, mighty as it is."
"But will our advances be well received by him who occupies the
golden palace of Justinian?" said Otto.
"Nicephorus Phocas," said the bishop, positively, "is between the
devil and the deep sea, as our Lombard proverb runs; he has no
choice. He will grasp your offer. He has restless Bulgarians on his
northern border and fierce Saracens on his eastern frontier.
Byzantine churchmen and officials now in Rome here tell me that the
people and the Church are weary of him. The army has a new favorite.
The widow whom he married cares for him no more. Nicephorus will
yield, if he be pressed by an envoy of superior culture, who knows
how to handle an uncouth soldier."
"We will consider of this embassy and project of alliance," said Otto
as he broke up the council. "Mother and son, churchmen and
civilians, are for peace, love, and friendship. My lord of the Iron
Head and of the Iron Hand, with his gallant men-at-arms, is all for
war. It may not be impossible to try them both, and see which of the
two our friend the Basileus prefers. My lords and reverend sirs, we
thank you."
XXVII
Old Rome and New Rome--Rivals in Empire
The mighty Otto, after long consideration of the two plans proposed
in council, committed the fatal error of alternately resorting to
both, and, for the first time in his long and splendid career, met
with mortifying rebuffs in negotiation as in war. Adopting at first
the advice of the politic bishop, the emperor advanced to Naples and
there received the envoys of Nicephorus in state. The Basileus, who
sought only to gain time while he poured reinforcements and stores
into his stronghold of Bari, lured on the Germans with hopes of
obtaining the hand of the princess and the Italian themes as her
dower. In the mean time he doubled the defences of Bari and
despatched his trusty lord warden to take command of the provinces in
Italy and to defend them to the last drop of his blood.
Otto, at last, finding himself baffled with hollow promises, listened
to the advice of Count Pandulph of the Iron Head and of Count Gisulph
of Salerno, and, securing his rear at Beneventum, he suddenly,
without warning, dashed down upon Bari with a picked body of his
Lombardic and German veterans. In his thirty years of reign Otto had
swept his enemies before him from the Baltic to the Tiber, and he
looked for an easy victory in the Lombard theme. He had made the
expedition an imperial progress, with the empress and their son in
his camp, and the flower of his Saxon, Swabian, and Italian troops.
But he was too late. The gallant warden had provided at every point
for a desperate defence. The fortifications of Bari stretched from
sea to sea. A powerful fleet secured the coast and poured in
provisions and arms; and the population, bound by long tradition and
commercial interest in loyalty to the Byzantine empire, served with
zeal in the defence of their city. To the summons of the Saxon to
surrender the fort, Basil Digenes returned as proud a defiance. Otto
had dashed upon it without the means of a regular siege, at the
instance of Count Pandulph the Iron Head and his brother Landulph,
who intended to make it their own. After weeks of bootless attacks,
which the lord warden repelled at every point, the emperor retired in
disgust and flung himself into the arms of the wily bishop, whom he
sent on a new embassy to Byzantium.
It was a lowering day of June, 968, when the learned and eminent
Bishop of Cremona found himself at the Golden Gate of the
fortifications of Constantinople, as the ambassador plenipotentiary
of the Augustus, crowned of God, the Emperor Otto. The suite of his
eminence consisted of secretaries, chamberlains, and attendants, and
a select band of men-at-arms, gigantic swashbucklers from Pomerania,
"bravos" in reality, who were familiarly known as the "lions." The
party were mounted on their own horses, and ceremoniously challenged
the guard to open the Golden Gate to the representative of his
Imperial Majesty. But no gate was opened. The sky was now overcast
and the rain descended in torrents, but it did not cool the wrath of
the pompous bishop and his people. Hour after hour they waited in
the storm, in spite of all their appeals and demands, the bishop
pouring out Ciceronian philippics at the barbarism of his hosts, and
his officials importuning the stolid guard of the gate with
remonstrances that were neither understood nor answered.