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MEDIEVAL HISTORY LIBRARY |
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CONRAD IV—WILLIAM—RICHARD.
CHAPTER
IV.
WILLIAM—RICHARD. [11254—1260.
State of Germany — Death of William — Election of Richard,
of Cornwall — of Alfonso of Castile — Bavarian Tragedy — German Leagues — State of
Eastern Empire — of the Levant — End of Caliphate — State of
Lombardy — Papal Measures — End of the Romanos
Again has unwillingness to interrupt, by extraneous
incidents, the continuous narrative of a continuous struggle—in this
instance the Papal struggle to wrest the Sicilies from the orphan
heir—left the history of other lands in arrear.
This seemed the less important, because, after the death of Conrad IV, the
connexion of the Holy Roman Empire with the House of Swabia and its
other dominions, if still considerable, is less intimate.
Manfred, reigning in the Norman kingdom, not in virtue of
his father’s testamentary dispositions, but simply as elected King of
Sicily, professed to hold Conradin his proper heir, in preference to any
son of his own; but meanwhile advanced no pretension to the Empire. And
Conradin— whose right of succession, to all the crowns of both
his parents, the whole Ghibeline party deemed unquestionable—being an
infant, his champions, his nearest relations included, postponed all
assertion of his right, until he should be of age to head the movement. The
disorders of Germany must now be brought down to the epoch
of Manfred’s coronation.
At the moment of Conrad IV’s death, many circumstances in the
condition of that country favoured Innocent IV’s views; and his imperative
prohibition to think of a new election, comprehending his repeated, equally imperative
command to acknowledge King William, was generally obeyed. Even the Dukes
of Bavaria rejoiced that their nephew’s infancy, by deferring the
necessity of advancing his claims, enabled them, whilst engrossed
by their own affairs and dissensions, to submit, in appearance, to the
Pope’s injunctions.
William thus found himself relieved from the brand of
rebel and anti-king; but seems to have gained little more by his rival’s
death. The summons from Innocent, to receive the Imperial crown in Italy, he
perforce neglected, for he had neither money for the customarily expensive
coronation-progress, nor power to insure the
attendance of those formidable princes whose presence, as vassals
and electors, was indispensable. He remained during the year 1254,
powerless and inactive in Germany, amongst princes and great vassals, who,
having acknowledged him, either troubled themselves no further about him,
or rejoiced in his weakness. He attempted, indeed, to assume the Emperor, though not crowned such, naming the Bishop
of Spires and the Conte di Romaniola, Imperial Vicars in Italy;
nominally conferring fiefs and privileges upon the Earl of Savoy; and
denouncing the ban of the Empire against Ezzelino di Romano. South of the
Alps his gifts, dooms, and other acts, were completely ignored.
The following year, William was wholly occupied with
the affairs of his hereditary county, Holland; where he would fain have
compelled the ever republican and somewhat rude Frieselanders,
to receive the feudal system. Stubbornly they resisted, and the contest
was obstinate. The marshy nature of their country being one of
the defences upon which they relied for security, the King thought to
take advantage of the winter’s frost, crusting over every swamp, to
subjugate them, and planned his invasion accordingly, for the close of 1255. But, the winter did not fulfil the royal expectations.
Upon the 28th of the following January, hurrying forward, seemingly
unattended in advance of his army, he attempted to gallop across a frozen
morass; when the ice broke under his charger’s feet. Horse and rider alike
struggled desperately, but vainly, to extricate themselves. In this most
awkward and undignified predicament, William was surprised by the Frieselanders. He offered enormous sums for his ransom; but
they, who dreamt not that, in this enswamped knight-errant, they beheld the King, or even a great nobleman, laughed at
his offers as idle, and slew him.
A new election was now unavoidable, and Alexander
admonished the princes, to emulate the despatch with which the Princes of
the Church had given Innocent IV a successor, instead of leaving the
empire destitute of a head. He at the same time warned the Archbishops, on pain of excommunication, not to suffer
Conradin to be even mentioned as a candidate for the throne of his
ancestors. A Head really capable of controlling the
members, the Princes, who had now for years enjoyed
virtual independence, were little disposed to give themselves. Hence
the Swabian heir, as a child, was not undesirable; but to attain the
object aimed at, without offending the Pope, would be better. An idea that
the Germanic federation might dispense with a Head was thrown out;
but this was also contrary to the Pope’s commands, as well as to
established custom. The idea was rejected as too bold; and a weak Head,
dependent upon them for everything, easily controlled, and wholly unable
to control them, was deemed a sufficiently satisfactory change from the
powerful and energetic Swabian Emperors. But, how to insure such
weakness in the selected emperor was the embarrassment, since the pride of the
greater princes revolted from giving to an inferior, a petty prince, even
the name of their master. They shrank from renewing the
mortification they had felt when required to acknowledge the late antiking, a mere Earl of Holland, as their monarch.
The remedy that occurred was, to select as emperor a foreign prince,
whose other affairs must so distract his attention, as to leave Germany in
fact without a sovereign.
Whilst these difficulties were under discussion, a new
and most disgraceful measure was suggested; this was, in lieu of
chaffering with the candidate for the crown, for privileges and
prerogatives, to trust, in regard to these, to future opportunities of
usurpation, and fairly to sell the empire to the best bidder, among
suitable candidates; each elector putting his own price on his vote. This
base idea is believed to have originated with Gerhard von Eberstein, Archbishop
of Mainz; who, having been taken prisoner in an unjustifiable attack upon
the Duke of Brunswick, had not in his exhausted coffers wherewith to
ransom himself. But he, a helpless captive, could only suggest, it
was Conrad von Hochstetten, or Hochstaben, Archbishop of Cologne, who carried out his
suggestion. It is sad to lay unchristian ambition and shameless rapacity
to the charge of the last-named prelate, who, in his enlightened patronage
of the arts vied with Frederic II; and who, if he did not actually design
the splendid, still unfinished, Cathedral of Cologne, understanding,
approving, and accepting, the plan of an abler architect, had, A.D. 1248,
in the presence of the anti-king, William, laid the first stone. But
he it likewise was, who, after placing the Earl of Holland, as his
intended puppet on the throne, made anarchy permanent, by selling the empire to
a foreigner. He represented to his brother-electors that all the
requisites were found united in Richard, Earl of Cornwall, who had
immense wealth, with which to purchase their suffrages; together with
valour and talent, sufficient to justify their choice; whilst, being
without domains or vassals in Germany, he could not attempt to coerce any
prince, unless by the help of the others; who would, moreover, be much
required to England, by his extensive estates there, thus leaving the
German magnates completely their own masters: and who must surely be
acceptable to the Pope, both as a Crusader, and as uncle to the Prince he
had selected for King of Sicily; to the Guelphs, as a relation of the
Duke of Brunswick; whilst, to the Ghibelines, as a brother-in-law and
friend of the late Emperor, he could not be unacceptable.
The scheme was cordially approved, and Archbishop
Conrad despatched a confidential person to England, commissioned to
propose the purchase of the empire to the Earl of Cornwall. The Earl
judged this a more reasonable project than Innocent IV’s offer, of a kingdom
to be conquered; a kingdom too, which he had seen thriving and happy
under the lawful rulers, whilst Germany, oppressed amidst anarchy, offered
a field in which much good might be done. The prelate’s messenger
was, therefore, accompanied, on his return home, by an envoy of the
Earl’s, authorized to treat with the several princes for their votes. Bargains
were concluded, with the Archbishop of Cologne for 12,000 marks, with the
Archbishop of Mainz for 8000, of which the Duke of Brunswick was to
receive 5000, as the prelate’s ransom; and for the same sum of 8000 marks
with the Archbishop of Treves, the King of Bohemia, the Dukes of Saxony
and Bavaria, and the Margraves of Brandenburg; the Dukes of
Bavaria obtaining, in addition, a promise of the investiture of
the duchy of Swabia, for their nephew Conradin. And here it is to be
observed, that, in this dishonourable transaction, are, for the first
time, found distinctly specified as Electors, those seven princes to whom
the Golden Bull afterwards permanently assigned the title and high office;
to wit, the three Archbishops of Mainz, Treves, and Cologne,
the Palsgrave of the Rhine—really, although the Prince who held that
dignity appears under the older title of his own family—the Duke of
Saxony, the Margrave of Brandenburg, and the King of Bohemia. And, as if to
mark a change, they are stated to have consulted with the other princes,
a somewhat ironical compliment after selling their votes. It is further to
be observed, that the admissibility of the Duke of Bavaria’s claim to two
votes, one for the Rhine palatinate and one for the duchy, was,
seemingly, left undecided; as immaterial, perhaps, so long as
the duchy and the palatinate were held by one and the
same individual. The Electoral Diet, in which the Electors were to
earn the money promised them, was convoked to meet at Frankfort, in January, 1257.
But even the large sums promised by Earl Richard had
not secured unanimity in his cause. Arnold von Isenberg, Archbishop of Treves,
was jealous of the leading part, taken by the Archbishop of Cologne, in
the business; and not less so, of his having obtained for his own voice,
half as much more as his co-electors were to receive. Arnold of Treves, accordingly declared himself unsatisfied touching the
Earl of Cornwall’s fitness for a station so exalted as Head of the Holy
Roman Empire, recommending in his stead Alfonso X, King of Castile;
and that upon divers grounds. By his mother,
Beatrice, the youngest daughter of the murdered King Philip, Alfonso descended
from the Swabian dynasty of Emperors; he bore the honourable surname of
the Wise—the Learned, rather, then, however, deemed nearly synonymous;—and he would much more certainly be
detained in Spain by the affairs of his hereditary kingdom, than Richard
in England by pecuniary concerns and his brother’s civil wars.
This opposing prelate was the first of the Electors to
reach Frankfort, where the Duke of Saxony, bearing the conjoint proxy of
his cousins, the brother Margraves of Brandenburg, and an ambassador from
the King of Bohemia, successively joined him. By holding out the prospect of
larger bribes, he speedily prevailed upon the new comers to adopt his views; and when the Archbishop of Cologne and Duke Lewis of
Bavaria shortly afterwards presented themselves, they came attended by
trains so considerable, that he as easily persuaded the
Frankfort magistracy to believe their admission, en masse, fraught with peril to the liberties of the Free Imperial
City. The offended Princes refused to separate from their
escorts; and some far from satisfactory communications took
place between the colleagues within, and those without the walls.
The latter party first proceeded to action; and upon
Franconian soil, though not in Frankfort, they went through the forms of
election. Upon the 13th of January 1257, the Archbishop of
Cologne and the Rhine-Palsgrave-Duke of Bavaria, in their own names and in that
of the still captive Archbishop of Mainz, proclaimed Richard Earl of
Cornwall, duly elected King of Germany and of the Romans. But Archbishop
Arnold did not therefore hold himself beaten. To every elector who voted
for Philip’s grandson, the King of Castile, he, in the name of
this royal candidate, promised 20,000 marks; and the larger sum was,
by these trafficking princes, naturally preferred to the smaller. After
many weeks consumed in negotiation, he, nearly three months subsequent to the
election of Richard, upon the 1st of April, conjointly with the
Duke of Saxony, the ambassador of the King of Bohemia, and the
Margraves of Brandenburg by proxy, in the regular locality at Frankfort,
elected Alfonso X of Castile, King of Germany and of the Romans.
Whilst the Archbishop of Treves was still negotiating,
his Cologne rival had acted. Passing over into England with several
princes and prelates of his party, he had done homage to Richard, and
received handsome presents from him, together with a promise that he would
hasten to Germany; as well for his coronation, as to fulfil
the engagements made in his name. A deputation from the opposite
party repaired something later to Castile, to inform Alfonso X of his election,
and concert their future measures with him. But still the Cologner had the start of his antagonists. Whilst they
were consulting in Castile, Richard presented himself in Germany, bringing
with him twenty-two, or twenty-eight tons of hard cash, the contents
of which many of his Castilian rival’s partisans, amongst others King
Wenceslas, found irresistible. At Achen, upon the 13th of May, Richard
was, with all the rites and ceremonies, crowned by the two
Archbishops most connected with the solemnity, namely, those of Mainz
—Gerard being now ransomed—and of Cologne.
Alfonso, meanwhile, accepted the offered crown upon
the Archbishop’s terms. He confirmed the promises
made in his name, assumed the title of Emperor, and
exercised— nominally at least—some rights of Imperial
sovereignty, such as conferring lapsed or forfeited fiefs upon his
partisans. But, as he never, formally or informally, was crowned, and
never even visited Germany, he is not reckoned amongst her emperors or
kings. His grants were of no avail at the time; and no attention was paid,
either then or subsequently, to any of his acts as Emperor.
Richard, on the contrary, was crowned King of Germany and of
the Romans; and, how small soever his power, all his acts— including
his renunciation, at a Nuremberg Diet, of the right, already greatly
restricted by Frederic II, of interference in the marriage of heiresses—were
recognised as law by his successors. Both Princes sent envoys to
the Papal Court, where they strove hard to obtain the decision of the
Church in favour of their respective masters. But alike in vain! Alexander
would not risk offending either party, by sanctioning the pretensions of
the other; and was delighted to see the German monarch incapacitated for
interference with his schemes. He professed himself insufficiently informed as
to the merits of the case, and deferred his decision to a future day,
distant enough to allow time for investigation.
The Pope’s procrastination, combined with the
selection of foreign monarchs, helped the double election to answer every
object of the German Princes, and of the Roman See. Alfonso was an
absolute nullity in Germany; the chief, if not the only results of his
election were filling the purses of his partisans, and weakening his
rival. Richard, if not quite as satisfactorily nugatory, found his
authority so impaired and hampered by the existence of a rival, to
whom many adhered, and was so incessantly recalled, by his own or his
brother’s affairs, to England, that his determination to be really a king
when present, did not counterbalance his tons of coin. But, whilst several
of Alfonso’s original partisans gradually came over to him, Richard alienated the
Dukes of Bavaria, by breaking his promise to invest Conradin with Swabia,
and, like his predecessor William, claiming the duchy as a lapsed fief,
through Conrad’s not having done homage for it, to that insurgent against
his father. Upon this question, he, however, secured the Swabian
great vassals to his side, by ratifying all William’s grants to them; and only
a few, holding ducal household offices, remained faithful to the son
and heir of their Dukes. Most of the considerable Swabian towns were,
by this time, Free Imperial Cities.
But, if alienated from Richard, Bavaria was rather
neutral than hostile. The power of the duchy, and the interest taken by Duke
Lewis in his nephew’s cause, appear to have been not a little, the one
diminished, the other chilled, by the consequences of the horrible tragedy, of which the Bavarian court had
recently been the theatre. Duke Lewis had, A.D. 1254, married
Mary of Brabant, granddaughter, or great granddaughter to King
Philip; a princess unanimously described as a model, not less of
feminine virtue than of courtly propriety, and devotedly attached to her
husband. The Duke’s Wildgraf or Raugraf— feudal
titles for the Head of the hunting establishment—Graf Conrad von Kirchberg,
being received into the society of the Duchess, and in the habit of
playing at chess with her, one day ventured to solicit, as a mark of
her favour, that she would address him in the familiar style of the second
person singular, instead of the second or third person plural; or, Sir
Toby like, to “thou him in German, dutzen, in
French, tutoyer. Mediaeval
social habits are too imperfectly known, to afford an accurate estimate of
the degree of presumption there might be in this request; but that none,
amounting to real impropriety, could be addressed to a Princess of
unblemished fame, in presence of her whole court, is self-evident. Hence,
the probable conjecture is, that such was the style in
which Princesses spoke to the great officers of their own household, as
did ladies to their domestics, which would make the Wildgraf’s petition, a prayer to be treated as if attached to her especial service;
or if it were for more, to be marked as her accepted knight, in all honour
and virtue. But, whatever the import, the Duchess appears to have
deemed it presumptuous; for she made no answer, and continued to say “you” as before.
Soon afterwards, Duke Lewis took the field in a feud
against the city of Augsburg, attended as usual by Kirchberg, and exposed
himself so recklessly, that the Duchess, informed of his temerity, wrote
to implore him to be more careful of a life in which hers was wrapt up. She learned that her entreaties were
disregarded; and, when addressing a second letter to him upon the same
subject, she, in her conjugal anxiety, wrote another to Graf Conrad, in
which she briefly said, that, if he could prevail upon her consort to
end the feud, and return home, she would grant his boon. Her messenger
being unable to read, she sealed the two letters with wax of different
colours, and explained to him which was for the Duke, which for the Earl. Unluckily, the man’s memory was
inadequate to supply the place of reading, and he delivered the wrong
letter to the Duke.
The unexplained promise awakened in the husband the
most insane jealousy. Having slain the blundering messenger on the spot, he
galloped off to Donauwerth, where, with his
widowed sister, the Empress or Queen Elizabeth, his Duchess held her
court. In the evening of the 18th of January 1256, he rushed into the
castle, loudly accusing his wife of adultery. The Seneschal, who
respectfully met him as he entered, he ran through the body with his sword,
as a negligent guardian of princely honour. One of the Duchess’s Maids of
Honour met him on the stairs and was stabbed to the heart as a pandar to the
guilt of her mistress. Four other ladies of her court he flung from
the battlements, with the same vituperative exclamation. He bade a servant
fetch the Duchess down to the castle yard, and there strike off her head.
His imperial sister fell at his feet, imploring justice for his wife, demanding
an investigation into her conduct, for the purity of which she pledged
herself. In vain! He was deaf with rage, and Mary of Brabant’s head fell.
Then, his thirst of vengeance slaked, the Duke cooled sufficiently to explain his enfrenzied jealousy, and listen to the explanations poured upon him.
His remorse was now as violent as his jealousy had been. It is said, that
Duke Lewis, then barely twenty-seven years old, came forth next
morning with the white hair of old age. As an expiatory penance, he built
and endowed the cloister of Fürstenberg; but that his penitence was not of
the kind which chastens and softens the character, teaching
the necessity of self-control, is apparent from much of
his subsequent conduct. One instance of this may be given from his
war with Ottocar of Bohemia, when he burnt a troop of fugitive Bohemians,
in the building where they had sought shelter. He seems never to have
regained the love and confidence of his vassals, which his
inhumanly precipitate and groundless vengeance, had forfeited.
To complete the tragedy, the fate of Kirchberg must, by anticipation, be
here added. Having fortunately escaped the first burst of the Duke’s fury, he everywhere zealously proclaimed the
innocence of the Duchess, and also of his own
suit. Nevertheless, long years afterwards, Mary’s son, Duke Rudolph, who
appears to have inherited his father’s violence, slew this champion of his
mother, as the cause, however unintentionally, of her death.
The Rhine League continued to flourish, increasing in
numbers and reputation throughout this period. King William had, indeed,
declined the invitation to become its head, more specifically than he
already was, as King; but professed much approbation of such a protective
federation, to which he showed all favour. Before William’s death, the League
comprised seventy cities, mostly on the Rhine, Maine, Necker, and Danube; but
even the remoter Nuremberg was one. And so useful did the League
prove, in repressing the marauding habits of Robber-knights and petty
nobles, that the Archbishops of Mainz, Treves, and Cologne, the
Rhine-Palsgrave, and the Landgravine of Hesse, avowed themselves its
protectors; many prelates and nobles, ranking next to these princes in
dignity, became members; and Graf von Waldeck accepted the headship declined by
the King. The Rhine League was now a more completely organized body than
the Lombard League had ever been; with quarterly meetings of deputies, in
a sort of Rhine-League Diet, held successively at Cologne, Mainz,
Worms, and Strasburg, for the regulation of federal proceedings. Upon
William’s death, the League exhorted the Princes not to distract the Empire by a double election; and when Richard was elected,
at once acknowledging, strenuously supported him; naturally they opposed
the subsequent election of the King of Castile.
That this League acted most beneficially at the time,
protecting trade, and even agriculture, by repressing the Robber-knights,
there can be no question; in an historical point of view, however, it might be
more memorable, if it really had given birth, in addition to its undoubted
offspring of less note than itself, to the far more widely and permanently
important Hanse League. But the parentage of this last seems to be traced
with more certainty to an association of merchants of northern Germany,
who, under the designation of Communes Mercatores, had a
factory in Gothland; and, Brunswick being a sort of
emporium upon one line of traffic, between Venice and the German Ocean or
the Baltic, her princes took an especial interest in this Gothland factory. And accordingly Henry the Lion had always favoured the Communes Mercatores, and
granted them large privileges in his duchies, besides interfering in a
quarrel, and compelling their island hosts to do them justice. The Hanse
itself was, at the period under consideration, still in its infancy,
although as early as the year 1210, incipient, in the intimate
alliance then formed by Lubeck and Hamburgh, for the protection of
the trade of their respective citizens. This alliance became yet more intimate,
during the Danish civil wars betwixt Eric and Abel, when, A.D. 1241,
each city undertook the protection of the other’s subjects; and at the
epoch of the double election in Germany, a few towns upon the Baltic
had sought admission into this League, as had a few more in Flanders,
where the politic as haughty Margaret, favoured such federations for
mutual protection. In 1252, at the petition of two deputies, a Lubecker
and a Hamburgher, she granted the juvenile Hanse
considerable privileges, such as exemptions from tolls, &c., in her states.
The Westphalian League seems to have been in alliance
with the Hanse; whilst the Slavonian, or, more properly the Vend towns,
had an independent League of their own, of which, likewise, Lubeck was a
member. But, however efficient for self-preservation, such leagues were of
no avail to counteract the general anarchy. Unlike Gregory VII, who
wished to hold a powerful emperor in subjection to the Papacy, Alexander
IV, seemingly, exulted in the impotence to which the Popes had reduced their
spiritual children, albeit that impotence had not produced obedience to
the pontifical authority; papal legates appearing, amidst the continuous
disorders ensuing upon the double election of absent kings, to have been
ill-used by the princes upon the slightest cause of offence.
Baldwin was still struggling, almost hopelessly, to
defend his Constantinopolitan empire against Vatazes. For the moment,
indeed, the dissensions of the latter with the other Greek princes, and
with the dreaded enemy of Latin and Greek alike, the King of Bulgaria,
enabled him to preserve his crown; but it tottered upon his head.
The Mongols were tyrannizing over Russia, and
harassing Poland with incursions; but they no longer threatened as far west as
Germany. Their conquests were now confined to Asia, where Haithon,
King of Lesser Armenia, upon the strange, though then prevalent, idea,
that every enemy to the Mohammedans must needs be a friend to the
Christians, if not half a proselyte, had visited the Grand Khan, Mangu,
Genghis Khan’s grandson, to invite his co-operation against the Moslem
neighbours of Armenia. Mangu accepted the proffered alliance, and, in
1256, sent his brother Hulaku westward,
who, ravaging and devastating as he advanced, in 1258 destroyed the
chief seat of the Ismaelites (otherwise
the Assassins) in Irak, and presented himself
before Bagdad. Why he chose to employ treachery against a city, of which
he had but to walk in and take possession,—the Commander
of the Faithful, who once ruled half the then known world, having then
hardly troops enough to man, without attempting to defend, the walls of
his one, solitary city,—is not explained; but he
might be actuated by a barbarian’s pride in superior craft. The idolater Hulaku thought proper to profess great reverence for
the Caliph Moastasam, to whom he proffered friendship, and the
hand of a daughter of his own, for the Caliph’s son and successor.
Moastasam, too happy so easily to escape dangers against which he knew
himself unable to contend, gladly assented to the proposal; and when Hulaku, thereupon, invited him to the Mongol camp,
pledging his word for his safety there, the Caliph, willingly or not,
hastened thither, attended by his emirs and other chief officers. The
Khan received him with all the respectful friendliness that could be
desired, and after awhile requested him to order
the population of Bagdad to display the boasted immensity of their
numbers, by appearing without the city gates, and, to avert the
possibility of an accidental collision, by appearing unarmed. The
Commander of the Faithful might think the request idle, but, in the
Mongol camp, he was not to refuse compliance with the Khan’s
idlest fancies; the order was issued and obeyed. And then —Hulaku’s promise had been carefully worded:
the Mongols fell upon the defenceless people, massacring, to the
amount, it is said, of £00,000. The town was sacked during six weeks, and
treasures of Oriental art and Oriental learning were recklessly,
unconsciously destroyed by the ignorant barbarians. Hulaku still kept the “word of promise to the ear,” wofully “breaking it to the sense.” The Caliph, though imprisoned, was mocked with
a show of profound respect; his table served with numerous
dishes, but they contained only gold, and Moastasam,
the fifty-seventh and last Caliph, was literally starved to death.
In Egypt, the Mamelukes were undisputed masters. There
Chajahreldor, having, in a fit of conjugal jealousy, murdered her husband,
Asseddin, Bibars took the opportunity to get rid of her. He punished her crime
with death, and raised Kotuz; a young son of
Turanshah’s, to the Sultanship. In his name, Bibars was now
extending Mameluke domination northward, as if to meet the Mongols in
Palestine, where the constant broils and feuds of the Venetians and the
Genoese greatly enhanced the difficulties of the depressed and scarcely
struggling Syro-Franks.
To return to Europe, and that part of the Holy Roman
Empire, with which Manfred was more connected than with Germany, viz.,
those provinces of Italy, which did not acknowledge his authority. Milan,
beginning to tire of the unceasing struggles for supremacy of her nobles
and plebeians; or rather of the unceasing alternations of government from
one faction to the other; in the year 1256, resorted to the former
compromise, of each party naming a Podestà, conflictingly rather than
conjointly, to rule the republic: for their incessant attacks upon each
other must have been anticipated. In 1257, upon a nobleman’s murdering a
troublesome creditor, seemingly no uncommon mode of settling debts, both
parties flew to arms; when the plebeians, led by Martino della Torre, and,
so far, with justice on their side, triumphed: but then the Podestà
of the nobles was put to death, and the nobles, with the Archbishop at their head, were expelled. The city being
now weary of warring Podestas, it was proposed to reconcile
the adverse factions by Martino’s marrying a sister of Paolo di Soresina, the leader of the nobles, and the division of
all posts of authority betwixt the respective partisans of
the brothers-in-law. Alexander IV earnestly recommended this scheme,
with cordial reconciliation. The first steps were taken, but no cordial
reconciliation followed. A Pope had little real influence in Milan; Torre and
his democratic faction could no longer brook the equality they had
once demanded; and in a very few months, the nobles, with the
brother-in-law of the triumphant rival leader at their head, were again
expelled. Martino della Torre remained absolute master of Milan, though
bearing no higher title than Signore and
Capitano del Popolo. The dexterity with which he rendered his despotism
more than endurable, even agreeable to the people, may be inferred
from his mode of driving an obnoxious greedy legate out of Milan; and an
anecdote, so illustrative of the times, although something premature, may
be here admitted. In 1262, the Legate in question importuned the
Chapter of Milan to give, or sell him cheap, a valuable jewel, the
property of the Cathedral. The Chapter complained to Martino; he assembled the
people, made the Chapter’s complaint known, and led them to the
Legate’s door. Once there, he offered him neither violence nor even
remonstrance, but respectfully informed his Reverence, such was the
veneration the Milanese felt for him, that, since he was determined or
obliged to leave them, which all deeply deplored, they would not suffer
him to depart, save escorted by the whole population. The
Legate admired whilst detesting the politic device, making resistance
impossible, and, so escorted, sorely against his will departed.
The other cities, both Lombard and Tuscan, were mostly
engaged in their wonted feuds, prosecuted with the wonted virulence, and
the wonted cruelty towards prisoners of war. The complete suspension of the
Imperial authority was most welcome to all, and so was the
double election in Germany. Richard or Alfonso was acknowledged, as
interest or caprice dictated; but neither was obeyed. Even the Ghibelines,
apparently, delighted in an emperor, whose impotence enabled them to
combine professed loyalty with virtual independence. Venice and Genoa were
engaged, A.D. 1258, not in their old habitual broils, but in the
first of their many regular wars of commercial rivalry; which, from the real
power possessed by these republican cities, had less the character of
civil war, than the feuds of the smaller towns. The Lombard League
was virtually dissolved, since there was no Emperor to dread; and the most
habitual of its noble members, the Marchese d’Este, at once acknowledging
Manfred as King of Sicily, made considerable, though fruitless
efforts, to accomplish his reconciliation with the Pope.
Palavicino lost his imperial vicarship by Conrad’s death, but was
still one of the chief Lombard nobles, and still professed himself a
Ghibeline, although, whether influenced by his Guelph connexion, Conte Guido
Guerra, or from some clashing of his ambition with Ezzelino’s, his
friendship with the house of Romano was broken, and he had allied himself,
instead, with Martino della Torre.
Ezzelino’s faults were still, it is said, increasing, and, what was politically worse, he was becoming
responsible for those of others, of which, personally, he was
guiltless. He had placed his nephews as Podestàs, in several
subject towns, and they, as such favoured holders of delegated power
too often will, indulged their passions and caprices, unrestrained by that
sense of accountableness to God, if not to man, rarely quite unfelt by
actual rulers. These nephews caricatured his worst qualities, being
destitute of the good, as of the great, that still adorned, at least,
his cruelty; one of them, Ansedisio di Guidotti,
superadding cowardice and treachery. The vengeful plots which
this tyranny produced may be imagined; their consequence was, that
every incautious word, which legions of spies were on the alert to catch,
perhaps to provoke, was punished with death, occasionally enhanced by previous
torture, by the horrid manner of infliction—burning or fastening to a
horse—then very general, or subsequent mangling of the senseless corpse.
And now the once admirable Ezzelino, if he knew what these nephews’
government was, did, indeed, merit his surname. He had been
excommunicated by Innocent IV, as an adherent of Conrad’s, and a protector
of heretics; he retaliated, and envenomed the hatred which the Pope bore
him, by plundering church property and persecuting ecclesiastics.
After Conrad’s death, Alberico di Romano, professing
unbounded devotion to the Church, severed himself from his excommunicated
brother, and made his submission to the Pope; whereupon he was not only relieved
from excommunication, but recompensed with a grant from King William of
all the Romano dominions. But neither could he take, nor could Pope and
King together give him, possession of his grant. Innocent negotiated an
alliance between the Lombard League and the Marquess of Este, against
the redoubted Ezzelino; and this proved equally impotent. The only result
of all these measures was that whilst one brother menaced the Pope and the
Guelphs with destruction, the other persecuted the Ghibelines, emulating
his ferocity; whilst a shrewd suspicion was entertained, that the fraternal
quarrel was a mere stratagem, to dupe, and thereby detect, secret enemies.
In 1258, Ezzelino besieged Mantua; when the prospect
of such an addition to his already formidable power alarming his politic
neighbours, the Venetians, a hope of their co-operation dawned upon his
enemies. The spirits and courage of Alexander IV, depressed by his
discomfiture in Sicily and Apulia, revived, and he proceeded to
action against this less potent adversary. He ordered a crusade to be
preached against the Signor di Romano, and gave the command of the forces
thus raised, comprising, as usual in papal hosts, the most ruthless
banditti, to the Archbishop of Ravenna, assisted by the once potent,
but long forgotten, and now utterly uninfluential, Fra Giovanni. They
laid siege to Padua, of which Ansedisio was Podesta; and Ezzelino being
still occupied with the siege of Mantua, which he hoped to take before the
crusaders could even attempt any important operation, the chief
command remained with him. Ansedisio represented to the Paduans, that
the crusading army was a mere rabble of banditti in search of plunder, led
by priests better versed in saying mass than in conducting a campaign or
controlling troops; and the Paduans, cordially as they hated their
Podesta, defended the town stoutly. But, presently, the
casual burning of one of the city gates dispiriting them, a principal
citizen proposed to capitulate. Ansedisio stabbed him; but the deed was
the impulse of passion, not the deliberate act of reckless determination;
for having committed the crime, he fled, deserting alike the post
intrusted to him by his uncle, and the interests of his family. Padua
surrendered, and found that Ansedisio, whatever his faults, had spoken but
too truly. The Archbishop was powerless, and Fra
Giovanni still more so, to prevent or check the sacking of the city, which
lasted through a whole week, reducing some of the wealthiest inhabitants
to beggary. But, if one of the most enthusiastic amongst modern
votaries of mediaeval liberty is to be implicitly trusted, the hundreds
upon hundreds of sufferers from the tyranny of either uncle or nephew,
whom the Crusaders’ victory released from prison, amply compensated the
impoverished, but disinterestedly Guelph Paduans for all their sufferings.
When Ezzelino learned the danger of Padua, he
instantly raised the siege of Mantua, and hastened to
the relief of perhaps the most important of his own cities. Upon
his road its loss was publicly announced to him, by a
messenger, whom, to obviate the disheartening influence of such disastrous
tidings upon his troops, he ordered to be instantly executed as a liar.
The terrible lesson effectually taught subsequent bearers of evil tidings,
to reserve their communications for a private audience. He now proposed
to recover the city, he had been too late to save; and, upon the 30th
of August, attempted to carry Padua by storm. But the citizens dreaded his
vengeance for their dastardly surrender, and hatred fired the released
prisoners to the most desperate resistance. More to this hatred and to
those terrors, than to the courage or prowess of the Crusaders, was
the success of Padua in ultimately baffling the efforts of her assailants,
probably due. Ezzelino reluctantly raised the siege, relieving his
mortification by the execution or mutilation of the Paduans in his army,
whom, upon the first intelligence of the city’s surrender, he had
imprisoned, to the amount, according to Guelph writers, of 11,000. An
incredible number to suffer themselves to be thus treated! But he is said,
by dividing them into classes, to have induced the dastardly majority
always, in the hope of thus atoning for their own offences, to sacrifice
the single class demanded. And these were the men, whom
the enthusiastic historian of the Italian Republics, and his school,
esteem worthy, esteem capable, of republican liberty! Ansedisio’s cowardly desertion of his post, his uncle punished with death.
This double triumph, the capture, and subsequent
successful defence of Padua, inflated the arrogance of the Guelphs, and
convinced the Ghibeline leaders, that all private resentment against
Ezzelino must be sacrificed, to avert the common peril. Palavicino and Buoso da Doara renewed their interrupted, friendly
relations with him; and Alberico, alarmed by the dangers threatening
the House of Romano, forsook his Guelph patrons, from whom he had
derived little advantage, returning to his fraternal allegiance, and share
of despotic power. The reinforcements brought Ezzelino, by these recovered
allies, did not join in time to save Brescia; but with the capture of
this town ended the success of the Crusade. The Archbishop, elated
with his triumphs, which he ascribed wholly to his own military talent,
now fancied himself more than a match for Ezzelino in generalship;
therefore, when the Ghibeline army appeared before Brescia, despite
the diminution of his own force by the desertion of
Crusaders, hurrying home to secure their booty, despite the
warnings of more experienced warriors, leaving the shelter of
the city walls, he, upon the 1st of September, marched forth to give
battle. He was defeated, as might be expected, and taken prisoner, and a
prisoner he remained to the end of his days, the allies refusing—why, it were hard to say— to accept ransom for him. They are
reported to have generally treated him with courtesy, though not
always able to refrain from taunting him with his military
genius, with the discipline of his army, and with the frightful
sack of Padua.
In Tuscany, the determinedly Guelph Florence appeared
irresistibly predominant. In 1256, she had forced Pisa, so long her superior,
rather than rival, to make peace nearly upon her own terms, giving the use
of her seaports to Florentine commerce, for the importation and
exportation of merchandize, duty free; and only by a series of stratagems
could Pisa evade the actual cession of a seaport to this upstart republic,
previously too much disdained to awaken an idea of rivalry. In Florence
itself, the Guelphs had, ever since the death of the Emperor Frederic,
been tyrannizing over the Ghibelines; banishing some,
executing others with a mockery of judicial forms, demolishing
their mansions, the materials of which were used in repairing and strengthening
the city walls. Nay, so far was this petty spite carried, that the sites
of the ruined dwellings were ordered to lie permanently waste, and the
architect, Arnolfo de’ Lapi, employed to build a palace for the residence
of the little more than ephemeral magistracy, now the Palazzo
Vecchio, was compelled to alter, and greatly deteriorate his
plan, to avoid honouring part of the site of the demolished residence of
the Ghibeline Uberti, by placing thereon a corner of his building.
In the Papal dominions, the March of Ancona was
stubbornly contending against the authority of Alexander’s nephew, Annibale
Annibaldeschi, whom he had named Governor for the Church, and to whom he
was endeavouring to give that province. The towns of Romagna were striving
to break the papal yoke, whilst Rome half repented of having done so. The
inexorable justice with which Brancaleone punished malefactors, whether high or
low, exasperated nobles and populace alike. In the course of his three years’ rule he razed 140 urban fortresses, and hung many of their noble proprietors; his treatment of vulgar
criminals may be inferred. Nearly the whole population rose
against him, imprisoned, and but for the energetic activity of
his wife, would have slain him. She prevailed upon the Bolognese
magistrates to incarcerate the hostages and assure their friends, that all
should be executed, if a hair of the Conte di Casalecchio were touched.
Alexander, in his zeal to conciliate the Romans, cared little for the Senator’s danger,
and commanded the Bolognese to release the hostages. But the Bolognese,
preferring the safety of their distinguished countryman to the Pope’s
pleasure, instead of releasing the hostages, exerted themselves so happily
to increase their number, that they got hold of two kinsmen of the
pontiffs, whom they held as additional security for the Senator’s life.
The Romans, accordingly, contented themselves with keeping him a prisoner,
and naming Manuele Maggio, a Brescian, Senator
in his stead. The new Senator, like his predecessor, to the utmost of
his power, supported the Pope’s antagonist, Manfred, as Regent of the
Sicilies. But at home, Maggio favoured the nobles, and the popular party
forgot their old anger at Brancaleone, in the heat of their new anger at
his successor. They brought the deposed Senator from his
dungeon, reinstalling him in office, and his justice was even more inexorable
than before. He hung two of the Annibaldeschi, nephews
of Alexander IV; and open war now raged between the Pope and his most
especial flock, headed by their Senator, who immediately acknowledged
Manfred, as King of Sicily.
Manfred was no sooner crowned than he returned to
Apulia, to quench the few, still smouldering, embers of rebellion; and
this was speedily accomplished, everywhere, except at Aquila, where revolt
against one of the Swabian dynasty could least
have been anticipated. Aquila was a town built by Conrad IV, for the
protection of the Abruzzan frontier, made
independent, save of the Sovereign, and favoured to a degree that should have
insured grateful loyalty. Yet the inhabitants, forgetful of
their obligations to the late King, had declared that duty to
the Church must supersede the claims even of his family, and had
refused to acknowledge his son as king, or obey his brother as regent. But
the neighbouring Barons, whose power and consequence were impaired by the
rights and privileges Aquila enjoyed, gladly lent their aid to
humble such pretensions, and compel submission. The whole kingdom, on both
sides of the Strait, was now peaceful and loyal.
Still, however, the Pope claimed the kingdom for the
English Prince upon whom he had bestowed it, and was, consequently, still
at war with Manfred, although not a rebel remained in arms to support him.
Excommunication and sentence of forfeiture were the only weapons
left Alexander, with which further to wage this war; and Henry III
grew impatient of incurring all the odium of the flagrant extortion
practised by the legates upon the English clergy, without any
countervailing benefit to his son. Therefore, seeing Manfred in apparently
secure possession of the kingdom, nominally Edmund’s, he proposed to the
Pope to arrange a marriage between this son of his and Constance, the only
child of Manfred by his Savoyard wife—whom he seems to have early
lost— assuring to the young couple the succession to the crown. There
was nothing in this scheme to gratify papal hatred of Frederic II and his
descendants; and Alexander, already annoyed at the English monarch’s
supineness, in a matter so nearly concerning himself, began to
look around for another vassal-King of Sicily. Henry, alarmed at the
Pope’s displeasure, retracted the obnoxious proposal, and the negotiation fell
back into its former state.
Manfred was unwilling to exasperate the Pope, and throughout
the year of his coronation the war languished; but still irritation was
accumulating on both sides. Manfred deemed himself justified by pontifical
example in making his clergy contribute towards the cost of his necessary
defensive measures, and now kept rectories and sees vacant, appropriating
the revenues to these purposes. Alexander renewed his excommunication,
extending it to all the loyal clergy, and especially, by name, to the
Archbishop of Agrigento, the Bishop of Sorrento, and the Abbot of
Montecassino. Manfred thereupon employed his Saracen troops to chastise
such of the cloisters and of the clergy, as the Pope’s promises had lured,
or his anathemas scared, into disloyalty.
Such proceedings naturally led to more active military
operations. In the spring of 1259, Manfred, secure at home, seems to have
indulged aspirations after the sovereignty, which his father had claimed
over the whole peninsula, and enjoyed nearly everywhere, save in the
Estates of the Church and the territories of the Lombard League.
That, only as Emperor, Frederic claimed this sovereignty, and that he
had little chance of obtaining the Imperial crown from Alexander IV or his
successors, he must have known; but may have looked to the Italian
Ghibelines’ need of a monarch’s support, and to the general Italian hatred
of transalpine domination, for facilitating the transfer of Italian
suzerainty to the Sicilian crown. He sent a distant relation of his
mother’s, the Conte di San Severino, as his Lieutenant into Tuscany,
apparently to lure the Tuscan Ghibelines into owning him as Lord
Paramount. A more stirring mission he committed to Percivalle dell’ Oria, whom, with the title of his Lieutenant, in the March
of Ancona, the duchy of Spoleto, and Romagna, he sent, at the head of
an army, to invade the Estates of the Church. Oria turned his arms first
against the March of Ancona. That province, as before said, was far from
thoroughly Guelph, or attached to the papal government, and at this time
inclined rather to accept Manfred’s authority than to oppose invasion in
arms. What the March really desired was independence;
but the harsh severity, with which Oria punished the first unsuccessful
resistance that he encountered, alienated the inhabitants, checking their
disposition to change their masters. The Pope, alarmed by the invasion,
offered bis discontented vassals large
concessions of rights and privileges; and the balance turned in
his favour; but the March long remained the theatre of desultory warfare.
There, Alexander, for the present, looked for nothing
beyond the prevention of any rapid success of the enemy. It was upon
northern Italy, where the power of his great adversary, Ezzelino da
Romano, was seriously threatened, that his hopes were fixed. There many of
the cities, subjugated by Ezzelino, had risen in confederation against the
oppression under which they groaned. Palavicino and Buoso da Doara, irritated by his usurpation of their shares of the common
conquests, had renewed their alliance with his hereditary foe, Azzo
d’Este, inviting Manfred to join their league. He declined, regarding
Ezzelino as his brother-in-law, and the faithful adherent of his father;
but the allies felt that, taking the opportunity of this insurrection,
they were strong enough, even without royal aid, to accomplish their
object. Ezzelino was aware of the enmity gathering around him; but he would not
ask assistance from Manfred, lest he should be betrayed into acknowledging a
suzerainty to which the King of Sicily had no right; he was now evidently
determined to hold his principality in absolute independence. He was even
brooding a scheme, which would have made him virtually monarch of all
northern Italy, thus raising him far above the reach of the antagonists
arrayed against him. The noble fuorusciti of
Milan had, it may be remembered, sought refuge under his protection:
through their instrumentality, he now meditated possessing himself of the
mighty capital of Lombardy; and this great adventure he thought
to achieve, before the allies could be prepared to act
against himself.
Those allies took the field earlier than the Signor di
Romano had anticipated; but this only necessitated some alteration in the
measures devised for the execution of his project, apparently rather
favourable than otherwise. He now proposed to turn the enemy’s positions
by a more distant, circuitous route, and surprise Milan,
defenceless, in the absence of the Milanese warriors.
The scheme was well conceived, and, all but successfully executed; for he crossed the Oglio and the Adda
undiscovered; but treachery then revealed his movement to the allies, and
his further advance was impeded by their numbers. To surprise Milan was now out
of the question, and, without a battle against a far superior force, he
could neither regain his own dominions, nor cover his magazines, keeping
his communication with them open. But from no act of boldness, even to
temerity, did Ezzelino know what it was to shrink, though his prudence was
ever exerted to lessen the hazard incurred. After much
skilful marching and counter-marching, the main
strategy seemingly of the age, he led his troops to attack the bridge
over the Adda at Cassano, and had carried it, when he was severely
wounded and fell from his horse. Such an accident seems in those days
invariably fatal. He was borne to the rear, and in the confusion, the
momentary discouragement that ensued, the confederates recovered
the bridge.
The next day found Ezzelino, wounded as he was, at the
head of his little army. The bridge being now strongly guarded, he crossed
the Adda by a ford at some distance, and though immediately encountered by
his enemies, arranged his far smaller force so judiciously, and fought
so valiantly, that he had nearly won the victory, when a body of his
men, the Brescians, who had been seduced by Palavicino,
and Buoso da Doara, deserted him, passing over
to the allies. They were as much re-animated by this accession of numbers,
as the yet faithful Romano warriors were dispirited, even more than by the
desertion, by the apprehension awakened of further treachery in their own
ranks. Still, however, the conflict was resolutely maintained,
until Ezzelino, fighting in the thickest of the battle, was again wounded,
stunned by a blow upon the head, and, whilst insensible, made prisoner.
Now all was indeed over, he himself being the whole strength of his party.
His army instantly broke and fled.
The Marquesses of Este and Palavicino protected their
important captive from ill-usage, and provided him
with all needful medical attendance. Nor were his spiritual wants
overlooked. Franciscans and Dominicans pressed into his prison, exhorting,
imploring him to confess his sins, do penance, and receive absolution. But
Ezzelino, whether in sheer obduracy, as his Guelph
contemporaries aver, or in self-delusion as to the character of his
cruelties, consonant with his already recorded view of his own acts, or really being calumniated^ replied: “I
have no sins to confess, save that I have taken insufficient
vengeance upon mine enemies, and have so far erred in the conduct of
my army, that I have suffered myself to be betrayed. Therefore am
I a prisoner—penance sufficient!” Having thus spoken, he remained
thenceforward deaf to their remonstrances, gloomily and invincibly silent.
He refused to take nourishment or medicine; but, growing impatient of so
tedious a form of suicide, during the tenth night of his
captivity, he tore the dressings from his wounds. The
following morning, the 27th of September, 1259,
he was found dead by his gaolers.
As the house of Romano now disappears from history,
the fate which, in the following year, befel Alberico
and his children, may as well be at once briefly recorded. He
had secured a fragment of his brother’s possessions, but not taken
warning from his brother’s catastrophe, to use his power more leniently.
His tyranny provoked a rebellion, quickly so successful that he was driven
to take refuge with his family in the castle of San Zeno, which,
being built upon the nearly inaccessible summit of a rock, and amply
provided with all necessaries, was deemed an impregnable fortress. He was
besieged there by the conquerors of Ezzelino, whom his own revolted subjects
had joined; but he laughed at the vain attempts
of the assailants, until treason opened gates, inexpugnable by force. Alberico had just time to secure himself with those belonging to
him in the dungeon-keep, which again appears to have defied assault. But
this tower had not been independently victualled for a separate siege, and by
the end of three days, hunger and thirst rendered further
resistance impossible.
Alberico now authorized his people to purchase their
own liberty by delivering himself and his family up to the besiegers,
merely stipulating that they should remind the Marquess of Este, that his,
Alberico’s daughter, was the widow of the Marquess’s son, the mother of his
grandson and heir, praying him to protect the maternal kindred
of that grandson from personal ill-usage. Rinaldo d’Este having died
whilst detained in Apulia as a hostage, the Emperor had sent his widow, with her orphan boy back to the Marquess. But, either
the remaining followers of the erst mighty house of Romano were too
much absorbed in securing themselves, to heed their master’s message
or fate, or Azzo, gloating over the fall of the last of the rival house,
cared little for the feelings of his son’s widow—for, that absence
prevented him from protecting her parents, brothers, and sisters can
hardly be supposed, since Alberico’s message implies his knowledge of Azzo’a presence with the besiegers. Thus Alberico,
with his wife and children, fell unprotected into
the hands of his enemies; and sickening is the bare idea of the treatment
they underwent. But still must it be remembered, that,
only through knowledge of such frequent atrocities, can the strangely
mixed character of the times be understood, or the men of those times
justly appreciated. Henry VI and Ezzelino were not the prodigies of
cruelty that modern writers often represent them; but simply a little
more reckless of human suffering, than their contemporaries. In very
truth, the study of the past provokes a painful, hardly to be repressed,
suspicion, that humanity is not, as its name imports, an integral element
of human nature, but a sheer product of civilization.
The first act of the drama of vengeance took the form
deemed sportive. Marco Badoero, Podesta of Treviso, ordered a horse’s bit
to be put into Alberico’s mouth, in token of subjection, when the inferior
rebels completed the jest, by throwing him down upon his hands and
knees, bestriding him, and with whips, goads, and spurs, forcing him
to crawl about upon all-fours, bearing a man upon his back. When satiated
with insults to the master at whose frown they had recently trembled,
they, with a mockery of judicial forms, tried his six sons, sentenced them
to death, and literally tore them to pieces before the eyes of
their father, whose cheeks they buffeted with the dissevered
and mangled limbs of his children. Next, his wife, and his two, still
unmarried, beautiful daughters were completely stripped, and thus exposed
to the polluting gaze of a licentious rabble of all classes; then bound to
a stake, and actually burnt alive. When
vengeance, maliciously savage, was glutted with the mental tortures
endured by the husband and father, the exulting victors proceeded
to the infliction of bodily anguish. His flesh was tom off with red
hot pincers, till his tormentors grew weary of the amusement; when, to
make an end, he was tied to the tail of a horse, and the animal driven
wildly forth to drag him along the ground whilst any spark of life,
or vestige of the human form, remained. This brutally atrocious scene was
enacted in August, 1260.
If Alexander was not disappointed in his hopes of
Ezzelino’s overthrow, he was grievously so in the results of the
catastrophe. Of the power and possessions of the House of Romano he gained
nothing. Palavicino and Buoso da Doara, staunch
Ghibelines as ever, appropriated far more of the conquests than could Azzo
d’Este. The largest share fell to Palavicino, whom Manfred found it
expedient to appoint his Lieutenant in Lombardy, in the eastern portion
of which the Ghibeline party still preponderated. The towns that had freed
themselves from the Romano yoke, remained unconnected with Lombard League
or Guelph lords, intent only upon recovering their right of choosing
their despot, in a podesta, and, if he displeased them, punishing him at
their own discretion. They elected those Podestas from amongst themselves,
unheeding either counsel or recommendation of legates. At
Verona, Martino della Scala was raised to that office, being
the first appearance upon the stage of public life of this
great Ghibeline family, which really did, ere long, succeed to much
of the Romanos’ power. The booty, collected in the war against the extinguished
race, the conquerors divided amongst themselves; no restitution appearing
to have been made to any of those, for plundering whom the
brothers had been excommunicated and overthrown; not even churches
and cloisters recovered anything.
But, if those times were characterized by ruthless
cruelty, so were they by passionately deep religious feelings; and even
whilst the worse than butchery of the last of the Romanos was
perpetrating, this intense devotion burst forth in a new guise. At this
very time, appeared at Perugia a long procession of men and women, their faces
un-discoverably muffled up in hoods, but uncovered
from the neck to the hips, scourging their naked bodies, till
the blood flowed, and chaunting or shouting: “Blessed Mary, mother of
God, have mercy upon us, and entreat thy son, Jesus Christ, to pardon us!”
Admiration of this splendid, self-imposed penance was universal; sympathy
with the Flagellants, as they called themselves, equally so, and the example
was everywhere followed. From Italy, this penitential mania spread through
France and Germany, even into Hungary and Poland. High and low mingled,
undistinguished as undistinguishable, in the procession, and everywhere
thousands of Flagellants were to be seen, proceeding, as if upon a pilgrimage,
from town to town, headed, sometimes by priests, but oftener by hermits,
all bearing crucifixes or censers, and marking their path with the
blood that streamed from their self-lacerated flesh. In this burst of
remorseful piety, scenes, analogous to those produced by the preaching of
Fra Giovanni, occurred. Not only did ordinary sinners vow amendment, usurers are said to have restored their unlawful gains,
and robbers their booty, to those whom, after their several
fashions, they had plundered; whilst the wrong-doer presented his sword to the injured, who, in lieu of taking the
offered revenge, fell upon the neck of his pardoned oppressor.
Gradually, however, the genuine repentance, that had
originally given birth to this moral phenomenon, was superseded by pride, in
the spontaneous atonement, which their extraordinary penance offered. The
Flagellants began to scoff at the customary rites of religion, as tame,
puerile, worthless, in comparison with their public
self-scourging. This arrogance called forth the censures of the
Church; and, at the very time that princes who laboured under
excommunication, as Manfred, the Duke of Bavaria, and Marchese Palavicino,
were taking repressive measures, in regard to these penitents, fearing
that their collective numbers might be easily made available, to Alexander’s
purposes, against themselves; the very Pope who had excommunicated them, was
denouncing such self-imposed penances as heretical, because undertaken
without ecclesiastical
sanction. His censure checked the admiration that
supported the Flagellants under their voluntary sufferings; and the passion for
this description of masquerading martyrdom, died of inanition. After the lapse
of a few months, not a single Flagellant was to be seen, and crime
and cruelty prevailed as before.
BOOK
V.
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