In the mean time, much had still to be negotiated between Frederic and
Adrian, before the latter felt satisfied to confer on the former the
imperial crown. Adrian was too well acquainted with the character of
Barbarossa, not to feel it a paramount duty to require every
guarantee, before adding to the power and greatness of a man who, like
him, thirsted for universal sway, under which not only the State, but
the Church also should bend; and who, in pursuit of his object allowed
no barrier, which he could throw down by fair means or by foul, to
stand against him. Thus it was that, although in his present
transactions with the pope, he made plenty of fair promises, he yet
would not pledge his word to them, lest by doing so he should commit
his plans of future ambition; plans which, though he felt he should
not hesitate to save, if driven to it at the cost of his honor, he yet
would prefer to forward, if possible, without so mortifying an
alternative. But, when after all his pains he found out that the pope
was not to be thrown off his guard, and that the transcendent stake at
issue was not to be won, except by confirming his word with an oath,
he submitted to take it; and, so, swore on the gospels and on the
cross, before his own and the papal ambassadors in his camp near
Viterbo, that he would neither injure the pope nor his cardinals; but
would protect their persons and rights against all aggression. [1]
Hereupon, Adrian felt confidence enough to leave Nepi, and repair to
meet Frederic at Sutri; to which spot the latter had, in the mean
time, advanced his camp. As Adrian drew near, he was encountered by a
splendid deputation of German princes and bishops, who conducted him
to the royal tent. As soon as the pope appeared before it, Frederic,--who
was waiting to receive him,--courteously advanced to assist his
Holiness in dismounting from his horse; but did not offer to render
the ancient homage, usual on such an occasion, of holding the pope's
stirrup. In vain did Adrian keep his seat in expectation that this
homage, would be paid; the king persisted in avoiding what his pride
could not brook. Terrified at such a bad omen, the cardinals of the
papal suite took to flight, and sought safety in the neighbouring
fortress of Castellano; leaving their lord to confront alone the
danger which seemed to threaten him. But Adrian retained his courage
and coolness intact. Alighting from his horse, he quietly sat down in
the episcopal chair, which had been prepared for him, and suffered
Frederic to approach and kiss his feet; but, when the king rose up to
receive the papal kiss of peace in return, Adrian refused it, and told
him that he would not give it, until the homage, due from the temporal
to the spiritual power, had been paid in full.
As Frederic denied, in vindication of his behaviour, the authenticity
of the homage in question, a hot controversy ensued between the
parties at issue; in which the king turned a deaf ear to every
argument and example that was adduced to prove his error, seeking to
evade their force, now by sophistical, now by threatening
representations, until the pope, disgusted at his disingenuous
conduct, and tired out with a dispute, which had lasted over the next
day, to no purpose, cut it short by abruptly quitting the camp.
Hereupon the king, perceiving that he must again offer sacrifice to
his policy, suffered the prelates, who surrounded him, and till this
critical moment had so vainly sought to convince him of the justice of
the pope's cause, to overrule him; and then set out for Nepi, whither
Adrian had returned. On his arrival, he no sooner beheld Adrian coming
forth to meet him, than, advancing reverently on foot, he held the
pontiff's stirrup; who, on touching the ground, directly enfolded the
king in his arms, amid the cheers of the spectators of both parties.
All these proceedings,--and the latter one, in particular,--have been
held up, by many writers, as setting in the strongest light the
arrogance and tyranny of the church in the middle ages. From our point
of view, at this day, for estimating the relative importance of Church
and State, no doubt, the result of the dispute between Adrian and
Frederic was wrong; because it ought to have proved diametrically the
reverse to be right. In the 12th century, however, the profound
conviction of Christendom was this: that the pope literally
represented on earth, in the character of vicar or vicegerent, our
Saviour in heaven; and, as it may be taken for granted, that, were the
Redeemer to reappear among men now, as he appeared 1800 years ago, the
proudest monarch of Christendom, in the 19th century, persuaded of the
fact, would,--whether catholic or protestant,--certainly not hesitate
to show this honor to our Divine Lord, on receiving his visit: so the
sovereigns of the middle ages did actually deem it right and honorable
to pay that homage to Christ, in the person of the pope, in whom they
acknowledged, from the bottom of their souls, our Lord's Regent on
earth, and as such their immeasurable Superior. In requiring Frederic
Barbarossa to pay him the typical homage of holding his stirrup,
Adrian did plainly nothing but what was entirely in accordance with
the spirit of the age, and, at the same time, with traditional usage,
as then received by Christian princes. [2] But Frederic did do what
was contrary to both in his refusal; and that, too, while professing
to be imbued with the very faith out of which the homage in question
sprang. Thus, it is no wonder that Adrian should view such an
inconsistency as most inauspicious for the liberties of the
church,--with which those of society were then so closely bound up,--and
should, therefore, feel it imperative to pursue a line of conduct,
which at first glance may appear so arrogantly exacting; but which,
found, on closer examination, to have involved the assertion of the
most sacred interests against a man, who was known to respect none in
promotion of his ends, assumes a character calculated rather to
conciliate our approval than to confirm our censure.
As soon as the friendly relations between the pope and the king had
been thus far restored, they set out, for Rome, to celebrate the
coronation.
In the mean time, the senate, though deeply offended at not having
been consulted on so momentous an affair, sent forward an embassy to
congratulate Frederic as he drew near. This it did in fulsome and
arrogant terms, informing him, moreover, that the 'Queen of the
world'--as the city was styled by the orator,--felt graciously
disposed to confer on him, of her own good pleasure, the diadem of
empire, if he, on his part, would promise to abolish the papal
government, restore the ancient Republic, and make a present of 5000
silver crowns to the officers of the state. But Frederic no sooner
perceived this drift of the speech,--whose tone from the beginning had
greatly irritated him,--than he cut it short by an outburst of
indignant sarcasm on men, who, sunk to the lowest pitch of national
degeneracy, yet thought to beard with the shadow of their past, the
substance of his present greatness, and to dictate terms to a prince,
who came not as their servant but as their master. After having
delivered himself further in the same caustic style, he asked them
what answer they had to give; and, on being informed that they could
give none till they had reported their reception to the senate, he
haughtily bid them begone and do so.
Aware that such conduct would highly incense the Romans, and very
likely urge them to revenge it by throwing obstacles in the way of his
coronation, Frederic consulted the pope as to what had best be done;
who advised him to send without delay a body of picked troops to
occupy St. Peter's, and the Leontine quarter of the city, in which
that church stood, promising that the papal guards on the spot should
support the movement.
Frederic accordingly despatched during the night 1000 men on this
service, which they successfully performed.
The next morning, June 18th, 1155, by sun-rise, he himself set out,
preceded by the pope, for the city, and passed into it by the golden
gate, before which his whole army in compact and resplendent array,
drew up. At St. Peter's he was received by the pope, who, surrounded
by his cardinals and prelates, awaited the king's arrival on the steps
of the great door. The pontifical high mass was then sung, and, on its
termination, Frederic, enthroned amidst the princes and dignitaries of
the empire, was solemnly crowned Emperor by the hands of the Pope, the
whole congregation bursting out, at so stirring and eventful a
spectacle, into acclamations of joy and triumph. [3]
In the mean time, a squadron of imperial troops took possession of the
bridge near the Castle of Crescentius--now St. Angelo--over which the
road into the heart of the town led; and, by so doing, shut out the
ill disposed citizens on the right bank of the Tiber, from
interrupting the ceremony. When all was over at St. Peter's, Frederic
issued out of the church with the crown on his head, and mounting his
horse, while his suite continued on foot, rode back through the'
golden gate, to celebrate in his tent, erected against the city walls,
the coronation banquet.
As to Pope Adrian, he retired to his palace near St. Peter's. So far
everything had turned out well. But a new scene was now to be acted.
For as the emperor and his soldiers, divested of their armour on
account of the great heat, were carousing under the cool shade of
their tents, in honor of the day, their toasts and songs were suddenly
interrupted by the alarm that the Romans had risen, and were advancing
over the Tiber to attack the camp.
The truth was, that the senate and citizens, exasperated beyond
measure at Frederic's treatment of their ambassadors, and at his
superior generalship in occupying the city and effecting his
coronation in their teeth, had met at the Capitol while he was at St.
Peter's; and passed the resolution not to let so mortifying a day pass
over without striking a blow in revenge.
Wherefore, as soon as the coronation was finished, and the scene
clear, the furious populace burst over the Tiber; and, after first
butchering what few German soldiers still lingered imprudently at St.
Peter's, rushed on to the grand attack.
Frederic no sooner heard this unwelcome news, than he started from
table, gave the word to arm, and sallied out to encounter the enemy.
The battle that ensued was maintained on both sides with unflinching
courage and varied fortunes: now the Romans drove the Germans beyond
their lines; now the Germans pursued the Romans into the heart of the
city. Such was the hatred which each party felt against the other,
that not only the men but the women joined in the struggle. When it
had thus lasted till sunset, victory declared for the Germans. The
Romans fled on all sides with a loss of more than 1000 killed or
drowned, and 200 captured. The emperor, as Otto of Frisingen asserts,
[4] had the extraordinary good fortune to lose in such an obstinate
and bitter combat only two men,--one killed and one made prisoner.
"Such!" cried Frederic, as he beheld the defeat of the enemy, and
recollected the terms of the senate the day before, "Such, O! Rome, is
the price which thy Prince pays for thy crown; such the way in which
we Germans buy our empire!" [5]
On the morrow he turned over his prisoners to Peter, the prefect of
Rome; who executed some, as notorious ringleaders, on the spot; and
allowed others to ransom themselves at exorbitant rates. Indeed, that
stern functionary would have put the whole of them to death, had not
Adrian, in whose breast this unfortunate outbreak had produced the
liveliest regret, interfered in their behalf, so that it was
reluctantly resolved to set them free.
Notwithstanding his victory, as no market for provisions could be
opened for his army, by reason of the animosity of the Roman
peasantry, Frederic was obliged to raise his camp, and seek a more
friendly and fruitful neighbourhood, where the soldiers might enjoy
repose after so trying a campaign. The spot he removed to was near
Tivoli. Here he halted for several days, and received a visit in his
quarters from Pope Adrian, who kept with the emperor the feast of SS.
Peter and Paul. Both sovereigns appeared at high mass on this occasion
wearing their insignia of state. After the service, Adrian solemnly
absolved the emperor's troops from all guilt which the slaughter they
had made of the Romans in the late conflict might appear to lay them
under; the maxim adopted being that "he who fights out of obedience to
his prince against the enemy of the state, must not be deemed a
murderer but an avenger." [6]
And yet Frederic did not hesitate to seize an opportunity which now
offered of breaking his oaths, and of repaying the pope's good offices
by invading his rights. For, on the citizens of Tivoli offering him,
at his secret instigation, the sovereignty of their city, which
belonged to the Holy See, he accepted it; and only on Adrian's
determined opposition to such an usurpation, affected to restore it
with reservation of his imperial prerogatives over the
place;--prerogatives which he could not define, and which meant in fact
nothing more than the renewal of his aggression at the next more
favourable opportunity. For now the complaints of his army, worn out
by fatigue, exposed, moreover, to every vexation, through the ever
increasing animosity of the Italians, and hence doubly impatient to
return into Germany, from which it had been absent much longer than
the terms of feudal service required, obliged Frederic to think of
finishing his campaign, and marching home directly, if he did not mean
to be left alone in the heart of a hostile country; a predicament into
which the desertion of his men was already beginning to betray him. He
accordingly took the road back into Germany soon after he had made
restitution to the pope as above described; and after running many
perils in his progress through regions so justly hostile to him,
regained his own states beyond the Alps, not so much gratified by the
acquisition of the imperial crown, as embittered by what he had gone
through in pursuit of it, and resolved not to delay longer than he
could help a second invasion of Italy, which should compensate the
mishaps and mortifications of the first.
[1] Muratori, Storia d' Italia, vol. 7. p. 135. Leipsic, 1748.
[2] Muratori, Dissertazione sopra le Antichita Italiane, dissert. 4.
[3] Otto Frisingensis, lib. 1. cap. 23.
[4] Otto Frisingensis, ibid.
[5] Ibid.
[6] Otto Frisingensis, ibid.