215. We may now return to the points of necessary history, having
our ideas fixed within accurate limits as to the meaning of the word
Liberty; and as to the relation of the passions which separated the
Guelph and Ghibelline to those of our own days.
The Lombard or Guelph league consisted, after the accession of Florence,
essentially of the three great cities--Milan, Bologna, and Florence; the
Imperial or Ghibelline league, of Verona, Pisa, and Siena. Venice and
Genoa, both nominally Guelph, are in furious contention always for sea
empire while Pisa and Genoa are in contention, not so much for empire,
as honour. Whether the trade of the East was to go up the Adriatic, or
round by the Gulf of Genoa, was essentially a mercantile question; but
whether, of the two ports in sight of each other, Pisa or Genoa was to
be the Queen of the Tyrrhene Sea, was no less distinctly a personal one
than which of two rival beauties shall preside at a tournament.
216. This personal rivalry, so far as it was separated from their
commercial interests, was indeed mortal, but not malignant. The quarrel
was to be decided to the death, but decided with honour; and each city
had four observers permittedly resident in the other, to give account of
all that was done there in naval invention and armament.
217. Observe, also, in the year 1251, when we quitted our history, we
left Florence not only Guelph, as against the Imperial power, (that is
to say, the body of her knights who favoured the Pope and Italians, in
dominion over those who favoured Manfred and the Germans), but we left
her also definitely with her apron thrown over her shield; and the
tradesmen and craftsmen in authority over the knight, whether German or
Italian, Papal or Imperial.
That is in 1251. Now in these last two lectures I must try to mark the
gist of the history of the next thirty years. The Thirty Years' War,
this, of the middle ages, infinitely important to all ages; first
observe, between Guelph and Ghibelline, ending in the humiliation of
the Ghibelline; and, secondly, between Shield and Apron, or, if you like
better, between Spear and Hammer, ending in the breaking of the Spear.
218. The first decision of battle, I say, is that between Guelph and
Ghibelline, headed by two men of precisely oppposite characters,
Charles of Anjou and Manfred of Suabia. That I may be able to define
the opposition of their characters intelligibly, I must first ask your
attention to some points of general scholarship. I said in my last
lecture that, in this one, it would be needful for us to consider what
piety was, if we happened not to know; or worse than that, it may be,
not instinctively to feel. Such want of feeling is indeed not likely in
you, being English-bred; yet as it is the modern cant to consider all
such sentiment as useless, or even shameful, we shall be in several ways
advantaged by some examination of its nature. Of all classical writers,
Horace is the one with whom English gentlemen have on the average most
sympathy; and I believe, therefore, we shall most simply and easily get
at our point by examining the piety of Horace.
219. You are perhaps, for the moment, surprised, whatever might have
been admitted of Æneas, to hear Horace spoken of as a pious person. But
of course when your attention is turned to the matter you will recollect
many lines in which the word 'pietas' occurs, of which you have only
hitherto failed to allow the force because you supposed Horace did not
mean what he said.
220. But Horace always and altogether means what he says. It is just
because--whatever his faults may have been--he was not a hypocrite, that
English gentlemen are so fond of him. "Here is a frank fellow, anyhow,"
they say, "and a witty one." Wise men know that he is also wise. True
men know that he is also true. But pious men, for want of attention, do
not always know that he is pious.
One great obstacle to your understanding of him is your having been
forced to construct Latin verses, with introduction of the word
'Jupiter' always, at need, when you were at a loss for a dactyl. You
always feel as if Horace only used it also when he wanted a dactyl.
221. Get quit of that notion wholly. All immortal writers speak out of
their hearts. Horace spoke out of the abundance of his heart, and tells
you precisely what he is, as frankly as Montaigne. Note then, first,
how modest he is: "Ne parva Tyrrhenum per aequor, vela darem;--Operosa
parvus, carmina fingo." Trust him in such words; he absolutely means
them; knows thoroughly that he cannot sail the Tyrrhene Sea,--knows that
he cannot float on the winds of Matinum,--can only murmur in the sunny
hollows of it among the heath.
But note, secondly, his pride: "Exegi monumentum sere perennius." He is
not the least afraid to say that. He did it; knew he had done it; said
he had done it; and feared no charge of arrogance.
222. Note thirdly, then, his piety, and accept his assured speech of it:
"Dis pietas mea, et Musa, cordi est." He is perfectly certain of that
also; serenely tells you so; and you had better believe him. Well for
you, if you can believe him; for to believe him, you must understand
him first; and I can tell you, you won't arrive at that understanding
by looking out the word 'pietas' in your White-and-Riddle. If you do
you will find those tiresome contractions, Etym. Dub., stop your inquiry
very briefly, as you go back; if you go forward, through the Italian
pieta, you will arrive presently in another group of ideas, and end in
misericordia, mercy, and pity. You must not depend on the form of the
word; you must find out what it stands for in Horace's mind, and in
Virgil's. More than race to the Roman; more than power to the statesman;
yet helpless beside the grave,--"Non, Torquate, genus, non te facundia,
non te, Restitvet pietas."
Nay, also what it stands for as an attribute, not only of men, but of
gods; nor of those only as merciful, but also as avenging. Against Æneas
himself, Dido invokes the waves of the Tyrrhene Sea, "si quid pia numina
possunt." Be assured there is no getting at the matter by dictionary
or context. To know what love means, you must love; to know what piety
means, you must be pious.
223. Perhaps you dislike the word, now, from its vulgar use. You may
have another if you choose, a metaphorical one,--close enough it seems
to Christianity, and yet still absolutely distinct from it,--[Greek:
*christos*]. Suppose, as you watch the white bloom of the olives of Val
d'Arno and Val di Nievole, which modern piety and economy suppose
were grown by God only to supply you with fine Lucca oil, you were to
consider, instead, what answer you could make to the Socratio question,
[Greek: *pothen un tis tovto to chrisma labot*]. [1]
[Footnote 1: Xem. Conviv., ii.]
224. I spoke to you first of Horace's modesty. All piety begins in
modesty. You must feel that you are a very little creature, and that you
had better do as you are bid. You will then begin to think what you
are bid to do, and who bids it. And you will find, unless you are very
unhappy indeed, that there is always a quite clear notion of right
and wrong in your minds, which you can either obey or disobey, at your
pleasure. Obey it simply and resolutely; it will become clearer to you
every day: and in obedience to it, you will find a sense of being in
harmony with nature, and at peace with God, and all His creatures. You
will not understand how the peace comes, nor even in what it consists.
It is the peace that passes understanding;--it is just as visionary and
imaginative as love is, and just as real, and just as necessary to the
life of man. It is the only source of true cheerfulness, and of true
common sense; and whether you believe the Bible, or don't,--or believe
the Koran, or don't--or believe the Vedas, or don't--it will enable you
to believe in God, and please Him, and be such a part of the [Greek:
*eudokia*] of the universe as your nature fits you to be, in His sight,
faithful in awe to the powers that are above you, and gracious in regard
to the creatures that are around.
225. I will take leave on this head to read one more piece of Carlyle,
bearing much on present matters. "I hope also they will attack
earnestly, and at length extinguish and eradicate, this idle habit of
'accounting for the moral sense,' as they phrase it. A most singular
problem;--instead of bending every thought to have more, and ever more,
of 'moral sense,' and therewith to irradiate your own poor soul, and all
its work, into something of divineness, as the one thing needful to you
in this world! A very futile problem that other, my friends; futile,
idle, and far worse; leading to what moral ruin, you little dream of!
The moral sense, thank God, is a thing you never will 'account for;'
that, if you could think of it, is the perennial miracle of man; in all
times, visibly connecting poor transitory man, here on this bewildered
earth, with his Maker who is eternal in the heavens. By no greatest
happiness principle, greatest nobleness principle, or any principle
whatever, will you make that in the least clearer than it already
is;--forbear, I say, or you may darken it away from you altogether!
'Two things,' says the memorable Kant, deepest and most logical of
metaphysical thinkers, 'two things strike me dumb: the infinite starry
heavens; and the sense of right and wrong in man.' Visible infinites,
both; say nothing of them; don't try to 'account for them;' for you can
say nothing wise."
226. Very briefly, I must touch one or two further relative conditions
in this natural history of the soul. I have asked you to take the
metaphorical, but distinct, word '[Greek: *chrisma*]' rather than
the direct but obscure one 'piety'; mainly because the Master of your
religion chose the metaphorical epithet for the perpetual one of His own
life and person.
But if you will spend a thoughtful hour or two in reading the scripture,
which pious Greeks read, not indeed on daintily printed paper, but
on daintily painted clay,--if you will examine, that is to say, the
scriptures of the Athenian religion, on their Pan-Athenaic vases, in
their faithful days, you will find that the gift of the literal [Greek:
*chrisma*], or anointing oil, to the victor in the kingly and visible
contest of life, is signed always with the image of that spirit or
goddess of the air who was the source of their invisible life. And let
me, before quitting this part of my subject, give you one piece of what
you will find useful counsel. If ever from the right apothecary, or
[Greek: muropolaes]', you get any of that [Greek: *chrisma*],--don't be
careful, when you set it by, of looking for dead dragons or dead dogs in
it. But look out for the dead flies.
227. Again; remember, I only quote St. Paul as I quote Xenophon to you;
but I expect you to get some good from both. As I want you to think what
Xenophon means by '[Greek: *manteia*],' so I want you to consider also
what St. Paul means by '[Greek: *prophetia*].' He tells you to prove all
things,--to hold fast what is good, and not to despise 'prophesyings.'
228. Now it is quite literally probable, that this world, having now for
some five hundred years absolutely refused to do as it is plainly bid by
every prophet that ever spoke in any nation, and having reduced itself
therefore to Saul's condition, when he was answered neither by Urim
nor by prophets, may be now, while you sit there, receiving necromantic
answers from the witch of Endor. But with that possibility you have no
concern. There is a prophetic power in your own hearts, known to the
Greeks, known to the Jews, known to the Apostles, and knowable by you.
If it is now silent to you, do not despise it by tranquillity under that
privation; if it speaks to you, do not despise it by disobedience.
229. Now in this broad definition of Pietas, as reverence to sentimental
law, you will find I am supported by all classical authority and use of
this word. For the particular meaning of which I am next about to use
the word Religion, there is no such general authority, nor can there be,
for any limited or accurate meaning of it. The best authors use the
word in various senses; and you must interpret each writer by his
own context. I have myself continually used the term vaguely. I shall
endeavour, henceforward, to use it under limitations which, willing
always to accept, I shall only transgress by carelessness, or compliance
with some particular use of the word by others. The power in the word,
then, which I wish you now to notice, is in its employment with respect
to doctrinal divisions. You do not say that one man is of one piety,
and another of another; but you do, that one man is of one religion, and
another of another.
230. The religion of any man is thus properly to be interpreted, as the
feeling which binds him, irrationally, to the fulfilment of duties, or
acceptance of beliefs, peculiar to a certain company of which he forms
a member, as distinct from the rest of the world. 'Which binds him
_irrationally_,' I say;--by a feeling, at all events, apart from reason,
and often superior to it; such as that which brings back the bee to its
hive, and the bird to her nest.
A man's religion is the form of mental rest, or dwelling-place, which,
partly, his fathers have gained or built for him, and partly, by due
reverence to former custom, he has built for himself; consisting of
whatever imperfect knowledge may have been granted, up to that time, in
the land of his birth, of the Divine character, presence, and dealings;
modified by the circumstances of surrounding life.
It may be, that sudden accession of new knowledge may compel him to cast
his former idols to the moles and to the bats. But it must be some very
miraculous interposition indeed which can justify him in quitting
the religion of his forefathers; and, assuredly, it must be an unwise
interposition which provokes him to insult it.
231. On the other hand, the value of religious ceremonial, and the
virtue of religious truth, consist in the meek fulfilment of the one as
the fond habit of a family; and the meek acceptance of the other, as
the narrow knowledge of a child. And both are destroyed at once, and the
ceremonial or doctrinal prejudice becomes only an occasion of sin, if
they make us either wise in our own conceit, or violent in our methods
of proselytism. Of those who will compass sea and land to make one
proselyte, it is too generally true that they are themselves the
children of hell, and make their proselytes twofold more so.
232. And now I am able to state to you, in terms so accurately defined
that you cannot misunderstand them, that we are about to study the
results in Italy of the victory of an impious Christian over a pious
Infidel, in a contest which, if indeed principalities of evil spirit are
ever permitted to rule over the darkness of this world, was assuredly
by them wholly provoked, and by them finally decided. The war was not
actually ended until the battle of Tagliacozzo, fought in August, 1268;
but you need not recollect that irregular date, or remember it only as
three years after the great battle of Welcome, Benevento; which was the
decisive one. Recollect, therefore, securely:
1250. The First Trades Revolt in Florence.
1260. Battle of the Arbia.
1265. Battle of Welcome.
Then between the battle of Welcome and of Tagliacozzo, (which you might
almost English in the real meaning of it as the battle of Hart's Death:
'cozzo' is a butt or thrust with the horn, and you may well think of the
young Conradin as a wild hart or stag of the hills)--between those two
battles, in 1266, comes the second and central revolt of the trades in
Florence, of which I have to speak in next lecture.
233. The two German princes who perished in these two battles--Manfred
of Tarentum, and his nephew and ward Conradin--are the natural son,
and the legitimate grandson of Frederick II.: they are also the last
assertors of the infidel German power in south Italy against the Church;
and in alliance with the Saracens; such alliance having been maintained
faithfully ever since Frederick II.'s triumphal entry into Jerusalem,
and cornation as its king. Not only a great number of Manfred's forts
were commanded by Saracen governors, but he had them also appointed over
civil tribunals. My own impression is that he found the Saracens more
just and trustworthy than the Christians; but it is proper to remember
the allegations of the Church against the whole Suabian family; namely,
that Manfred had smothered his father Frederick under cushions at
Ferentino; and that, of Frederick's sons, Conrad had poisoned Henry,
and Manfred had poisoned Conrad. You will, however, I believe, find the
Prince Manfred one of the purest representatives of northern chivalry.
Against his nephew, educated in all knightly accomplishment by his
mother, Elizabeth of Bavaria, nothing could be alleged by his enemies,
even when resolved on his death, but the splendour of his spirit and the
brightness of his youth.
234. Of the character of their enemy, Charles of Anjou, there will
remain on your minds, after careful examination of his conduct, only
the doubt whether I am justified in speaking of him as Christian against
Infidel. But you will cease to doubt this when you have entirely entered
into the conditions of this nascent Christianity of the thirteenth
century. You will find that while men who desire to be virtuous receive
it as the mother of virtues, men who desire to be criminal receive it
as the forgiver of crimes; and that therefore, between Ghibelline or
Infidel cruelty, and Guelph or Christian cruelty, there is always this
difference,--that the Infidel cruelty is done in hot blood, and the
Christian's in cold. I hope (in future lectures on the architecture of
Pisa) to illustrate to you the opposition between the Ghibelline Conti,
counts, and the Guelphic Visconti, viscounts or "against counts," which
issues, for one thing, in that, by all men blamed as too deliberate,
death of the Count Ugolino della Gherardesca. The Count Ugolino was
a traitor, who entirely deserved death; but another Count of Pisa,
entirely faithful to the Ghibelline cause, was put to death by Charles
of Anjou, not only in cold blood, but with resolute infliction of
Ugolino's utmost grief;--not in the dungeon, but in the full light of
day--his son being first put to death before his eyes. And among the
pieces of heraldry most significant in the middle ages, the asp on the
shield of the Guelphic viscounts is to be much remembered by you as a
sign of this merciless cruelty of mistaken religion; mistaken, but not
in the least hypocritical. It has perfect confidence in itself, and
can answer with serenity for all its deeds. The serenity of heart never
appears in the guilty Infidels; they die in despair or gloom, greatly
satisfactory to adverse religious minds.
235. The French Pope, then, Urban of Troyes, had sent for Charles of
Anjou; who would not have answered his call, even with all the strength
of Anjou and Provence, had not Scylla of the Tyrrhene Sea been on his
side. Pisa, with eighty galleys (the Sicilian fleet added to her own),
watched and defended the coasts of Rome. An irresistible storm drove her
fleet to shelter; and Charles, in a single ship, reached the mouth of
the Tiber, and found lodgings at Rome in the convent of St. Paul. His
wife meanwhile spent her dowry in increasing his land army, and led it
across the Alps. How he had got his wife, and her dowry, we must hear in
Villani's words, as nearly as I can give their force in English, only,
instead of the English word pilgrim, I shall use the Italian 'romeo' for
the sake both of all English Juliets, and that you may better understand
the close of the sixth canto of the Paradise.
236. "Now the Count Raymond Berenger had for his inheritance all
Provence on this side Rhone; and he was a wise and courteous signor,
and of noble state, and virtuous; and in his time they did honourable
things; and to his court came by custom all the gentlemen of Provence,
and France, and Catalonia, for his courtesy and noble state; and there
they made many cobbled verses, and Provençal songs of great sentences."
237. I must stop to tell you that 'cobbled' or 'coupled' verses mean
rhymes, as opposed to the dull method of Latin verse; for we have now
got an ear for jingle, and know that dove rhymes to love. Also, "songs
of great sentences" mean didactic songs, containing much in little,
(like the new didactic Christian painting,) of which an example (though
of a later time) will give you a better idea than any description.
"Vraye foy de necessité,
Non tant seulement d'equité,
Nous fait de Dieu sept choses croire:
C'est sa doulce nativité,
Son baptesme d'humilité,
Et sa mort, digne de mémoire:
Son descens en la chartre noire,
Et sa resurrection, voire;
S'ascencion d'auctorité,
La venue judicatoire,
Ou ly bons seront mis en gloire,
Et ly mals en adversité."
238. "And while they were making these cobbled verses and harmonious
creeds, there came a romeo to court, returning from the shrine of St.
James." I must stop again just to say that he ought to have been
called a pellegrino, not a romeo, for the three kinds of wanderers
are,--Palmer, one who goes to the Holy Land; Pilgrim, one who goes to
Spain; and Romeo, one who goes to Rome. Probably this romeo had been to
both. "He stopped at Count Raymond's court, and was so wise and worthy
(valoroso), and so won the Count's grace, that he made him his master
and guide in all things. Who also, maintaining himself in honest and
religious customs of life, in a little time, by his industry and good
sense, doubled the Count's revenues three times over, maintaining always
a great and honoured court. Now the Count had four daughters, and no
son; and by the sense and provision of the good romeo--(I can do no
better than translate 'procaccio' provision, but it is only a makeshift
for the word derived from procax, meaning the general talent of prudent
impudence, in getting forward; 'forwardness,' has a good deal of the
true sense, only diluted;)--well, by the sense and--progressive
faculty, shall we say?--of the good pilgrim, he first married the eldest
daughter, by means of money, to the good King Louis of France, saying to
the Count, 'Let me alone,--Lascia-mi-fare--and never mind the expense,
for if you marry the first one well, I'll marry you all the others
cheaper, for her relationship."
239. "And so it fell out, sure enough; for incontinently the King of
England (Henry III.) because he was the King of France's relation, took
the next daughter, Eleanor, for very little money indeed; next, his
natural brother, elect King of the Romans, took the third; and, the
youngest still remaining unmarried,--says the good romeo, 'Now for this
one, I will you to have a strong man for son-in-law, who shall be thy
heir;'--and so he brought it to pass. For finding Charles, Count of
Anjou, brother of the King Louis, he said to Raymond, "'Give her now to
him, for his fate is to be the best man in the world,'--prophesying of
him. And so it was done. And after all this it came to pass, by envy
which ruins all good, that the barons of Provence became jealous of the
good romeo, and accused him to the Count of having ill-guided his goods,
and made Raymond demand account of them. Then the good romeo said,
'Count, I have served thee long, and have put thee from little state
into mighty, and for this, by false counsel of thy people, thou art
little grateful. I came into thy court a poor romeo; I have lived
honestly on thy means; now, make to be given to me my little mule and
my staff and my wallet, as I came, and I will make thee quit of all my
service.' The Count would not he should go; but for nothing would he
stay; and so he came, and so he departed, that no one ever knew whence
he had come, nor whither he went. It was the thought of many that he was
indeed a sacred spirit."
240. This pilgrim, you are to notice, is put by Dante in the orb of
justice, as a just servant; the Emperor Justinian being the image of a
just ruler. Justinian's law-making turned out well for England; but the
good romeo's match-making ended ill for it; and for Borne, and Naples
also. For Beatrice of Provence resolved to be a queen like her three
sisters, and was the prompting spirit of Charles's expedition to Italy.
She was crowned with him, Queen of Apulia and Sicily, on the day of the
Epiphany, 1265; she and her husband bringing gifts that day of magical
power enough; and Charles, as soon as the feast of coronation was over,
set out to give battle to Manfred and his Saracens. "And this Charles,"
says Villani, "was wise, and of sane counsel; and of prowess in arms,
and fierce, and much feared and redoubted by all the kings in the
world;--magnanimous and of high purposes; fearless in the carrying forth
of every great enterprise; firm in every adversity; a verifier of his
every word; speaking little,--doing much; and scarcely ever laughed,
and then but a little; sincere, and without flaw, as a religious and
catholic person; stern in justice, and fierce in look; tall and nervous
in person, olive coloured, and with a large nose, and well he appeared a
royal majesty more than other men. Much he watched, and little he slept;
and used to say that so much time as one slept, one lost; generous to
his men-at-arms, but covetous to acquire land, signory, and coin,
come how it would, to furnish his enterprises and wars: in courtiers,
servants of pleasure, or jocular persons, he delighted never."
241. To this newly crowned and resolute king, riding south from Rome,
Manfred, from his vale of Nocera under Mount St. Augelo, sends to offer
conditions of peace. Jehu the son of Nimshi is not swifter of answer
to Ahaziah's messenger than the fiery Christian king, in his 'What hast
thou to do with peace?' Charles answers the messengers with his own
lips: "Tell the Sultan of Nocera, this day I will put him in hell, or he
shall put me in paradise."
242. Do not think it the speech of a hypocrite. Charles was as fully
prepared for death that day as ever Scotch Covenanter fighting for his
Holy League; and as sure that death would find him, if it found, only
to glorify and bless. Balfour of Burley against Claverhouse is not more
convinced in heart that he draws the sword of the Lord and of Gideon.
But all the knightly pride of Claverhouse himself is knit together, in
Charles, with fearless faith, and religious wrath. "This Saracen scum,
led by a bastard German,--traitor to his creed, usurper among his
race,--dares it look me, a Christian knight, a prince of the house of
France, in the eyes? Tell the Sultan of Nocera, to-day I put him in
hell, or he puts me in paradise."
They are not passionate words neither; any more than hypocritical ones.
They are measured, resolute, and the fewest possible. He never wasted
words, nor showed his mind, but when he meant it should be known.
243. The messenger returned, thus answered; and the French king rode
on with his host. Manfred met him in the plain of Grandella, before
Benevento. I have translated the name of the fortress 'Welcome.' It was
altered, as you may remember, from Maleventum, for better omen;
perhaps, originally, only [Greek: *maloeis*]--a rock full of wild
goats?--associating it thus with the meaning of Tagliacozzo.
244. Charles divided his army into four companies. The captain of his
own was our English Guy de Montfort, on whom rested the power and the
fate of his grandfather, the pursuer of the Waldensian shepherds among
the rocks of the wild goats. The last, and it is said the goodliest,
troop was of the exiled Guelphs of Florence, under Guido Guerra, whose
name you already know. "These," said Manfred, as he watched them ride
into their ranks, "cannot lose to-day." He meant that if he himself was
the victor, he would restore these exiles to their city. The event
of the battle was decided by the treachery of the Count of Caserta,
Manfred's brother-in-law. At the end of the day only a few knights
remained with him, whom he led in the last charge. As he helmed himself,
the crest fell from his helmet. "Hoc est signum Dei," he said,--so
accepting what he saw to be the purpose of the Ruler of all things;
not claiming God as his friend. not asking anything of Him, as if His
purpose could be changed; not fearing Him as an enemy; but accepting
simply His sign that the appointed day of death was come. He rode into
the battle armed like a nameless soldier, and lay unknown among the
dead.
245. And in him died all southern Italy. Never, after that day's
treachery, did her nobles rise, or her people prosper.
Of the finding of the body of Manfred, and its casting forth, accursed,
you may read, if you will, the story in Dante. I trace for you
to-day rapidly only the acts of Charles after this victory, and its
consummation, three years later, by the defeat of Conradin.
The town of Benevento had offered no resistance to Charles, but he
gave it up to pillage, and massacred its inhabitants. The slaughter,
indiscriminate, continued for eight days; the women and children were
slain with the men, being of Saracen blood. Manfred's wife, Sybil of
Epirus, his children, and all his barons, died, or were put to death,
in the prisons of Provence. With the young Conrad, all the faithful
Ghibel-line knights of Pisa were put to death. The son of Frederick of
Antioch, who drove the Guelphs from Florence, had his eyes torn out, and
was hanged, he being the last child of the house of Suabia. Twenty-four
of the barons of Calabria were executed at Gallipoli, and at
Home. Charles cut off the feet of those who had fought for Conrad;
then--fearful lest they should be pitied--shut them into a house
of wood, and burned them. His lieutenant in Sicily, William of the
Standard, besieged the town of Augusta, which defended itself with some
fortitude, but was betrayed, and all its inhabitants, (who must have
been more than three thousand, for there were a thousand able to bear
arms,) massacred in cold blood; the last of them searched for in their
hiding-places, when the streets were empty, dragged to the sea-shore,
then beheaded, and their bodies thrown into the sea. Throughout Calabria
the Christian judges of Charles thus forgave his enemies. And the
Mohammedan power and heresy ended in Italy, and she became secure in her
Catholic creed.
246. Not altogether secure under French dominion. After fourteen years
of misery, Sicily sang her angry vespers, and a Calabrian admiral burnt
the fleet of Charles before his eyes, where Scylla rules her barking
Salamis. But the French king died in prayerful peace, receiving the
sacrament with these words of perfectly honest faith, as he reviewed his
past life: "Lord God, as I truly believe that you are my Saviour, so I
pray you to have mercy on my soul; and as I truly made the conquest of
Sicily more to serve the Holy Church than for my own covetousness, so I
pray you to pardon my sins."
247. You are to note the two clauses of this prayer. He prays absolute
mercy, on account of his faith in Christ; but remission of purgatory, in
proportion to the quantity of good work he has done, or meant to do,
as against evil. You are so much wiser in these days, you think, not
believing in purgatory; and so much more benevolent,--not massacring
women and children. But we must not be too proud of not believing in
purgatory, unless we are quite sure of our real desire to be purified:
and as to our not massacring children, it is true that an English
gentleman will not now himself willingly put a knife into the throat
either of a child or a lamb; but he will kill any quantity of children
by disease in order to increase his rents, as unconcernedly as he
will eat any quantity of mutton. And as to absolute massacre, I do not
suppose a child feels so much pain in being killed as a full-grown man,
and its life is of less value to it. No pain either of body or thought
through which you could put an infant, would be comparable to that of
a good son, or a faithful lover, dying slowly of a painful wound at a
distance from a family dependent upon him, or a mistress devoted to him.
But the victories of Charles, and the massacres, taken in sum, would not
give a muster-roll of more than twenty thousand dead; men, women, and
children counted all together. On the plains of France, since I first
began to speak to you on the subject of the arts of peace, at least five
hundred thousand men, in the prime of life, have been massacred by
the folly of one Christian emperor, the insolence of another, and the
mingling of mean rapacity with meaner vanity, which Christian nations
now call 'patriotism.'
248. But that the Crusaders, (whether led by St. Louis or by his
brother,) who habitually lived by robbery, and might be swiftly enraged
to murder, were still too savage to conceive the spirit or the character
of this Christ whose cross they wear, I have again and again alleged to
you; not, I imagine, without question from many who have been accustomed
to look to these earlier ages as authoritative in doctrine, if not in
example. We alike err in supposing them more spiritual or more dark,
than our own. They had not yet attained to the knowledge which we have
despised, nor dispersed from their faith the shadows with which we have
again overclouded ours.
Their passions, tumultuous and merciless as the Tyrrhene Sea, raged
indeed with the danger, but also with the uses, of naturally appointed
storm; while ours, pacific in corruption, languish in vague maremma of
misguided pools; and are pestilential most surely as they retire.