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MEDIEVAL HISTORY LIBRARY |
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BOOK
V.
CONRAD IV—WILLIAM—RICHARD.
CHAPTER
VII.
MANFRED. [1265—1266
Provencal Arms in Italy — Ghibeline Treachery — Coronation
of Charles and Beatrice — Manfred's Preparations — Invasion
of Apulia — Treachery of Nobles — Passage of the Garigliano — Battle of
Benevento — Fate of Manfred — Treatment of his Family — of Prisoners in general
The Provençal host of crusaders and adventurers
took its way by Savoy, and, finding the Alpine passes open, poured down
into Piedmont, without having seen a shadow of the opposition which
Manfred hoped that he had provided. At Turin, where they arrived
unmolested, the Marquess of Saluzzo did homage for his marquesate to the triumphant representative of Charles, but whether as the Earl of
Provence, or as the future King of Sicily, who had solemnly abjured all
suzerainty over, or interference with, central and northern Italy, seems
uncertain. The towns that had professed neutrality, hastened to meet the
invader’s advance, with their submission. At Asti, the naturally
Ghibeline, Marquess of Montferrat, joined them with his troops; Vercelli
was taken by storm; the passage of the Sesia forced; and even the Lancias,
usually powerful in those parts, and of course zealous for their
royal nephew, deemed resistance in Piedmont, which one of the family
had gone thither to organize, hopeless. Upon the Ticino the invaders
halted to await the result of negotiations at Genoa and Milan.
The Provençal envoys despatched to Genoa were
commissioned, by large offers of participation in all expected conquests, to
purchase, if possible, her co-operation. But the Genoese, whose
forefathers had thus been duped by Henry VI, were unwilling to embroil
themselves with either party, and returned a
civil answer, declining the proposal, but
implying, if not promising neutrality; thus relieving
the dread of a formidable enemy in the rear. Milan still hesitated which
side to take, the Signor Perpetuo and the Archbishop alternately prevailing.
During eleven days the Provencal envoys vainly awaited their answer.
The southern French are, avowedly, the most impetuous
of the impetuous French nation. The invaders could control their impatience no
longer; and, reckless of what Milan might ultimately resolve, crossed the
Ticino, entered upon her territory, and advanced to the Oglio. The passage
of this river, Palavicino, in concert with Buoso da Doara, was prepared to
dispute, having collected for that purpose all the Ghibelines within
reach, in addition to Manfred’s troops. He had taken up his
position at Soncino, his right flank covered by Brescia, his left
by Cremona; and he hoped to defeat the enemy, how numerous soever, should
he attempt to force the bridge. The invaders paused, as shrinking from
this step, and Palavicino was strong in hope, but he had a traitor for his
colleague. Buoso da Doara is believed to have been corrupted by either the gold of
Charles—habitually employed rather to bribe enemies than to pay troops—or
by his large promises; and he damped the spirit of enterprise,
delaying every movement, whilst communicating every project to the
hostile leaders. Although delay is
usually the true policy of the invaded state, the peculiar
circumstances of the case reversed this maxim. The loss of time,
thus caused, enabled the Marquess of Este and the Legate to assemble
a large Guelph force at Mantua, upon Palavicino’s flank,
if not quite in his rear. The invaders, apprised of the position of their
friends, making a movement to their left, crossed the Oglio a little above
Soncino, where its defence was committed to Buoso,
who offered no opposition. Este advanced simultaneously; and
Palavicino, greatly outnumbered, and in danger of being
surrounded, was obliged to shelter his troops behind the walls
of Cremona. In the signory of this city, Buoso was his colleague; but of his colleague’s subsequently
detected treachery, he entertained no suspicion.
The hostile army now marched on unimpeded. To avoid
the resistance that must have been encountered in Tuscany, the
leaders—keeping clear of Venice—passed over to the eastern side of Italy,
where Guelph views were predominant, and the house of Este supreme. They
thus proceeded unopposed southwards, but did not
reach Rome till near Christmas. The army had, upon its march,
clearly discovered its character, and, its
purpose of living upon Italy, or, in modern phraseology, making the war
defray itself. The troops had treated the friendly country
through which the route, for the most part, lay, as though
hostile, everywhere levying oppressive contributions, and
ill-using the inhabitants, the clergy not excepted. At Cavrioli, where
the municipal authorities had executed a soldier for some act of marauding
violence, the whole population, men, women, and children, were, in
retaliation, put to the sword. On all sides complaints of intolerable
outrage resounded, and Clement addressed earnest remonstrances to
Charles, against his tolerance of a licentiousness, so unbecoming the character
of Crusaders, of Champions of the Church, or of Christians.
Remonstrances were necessarily unavailing. To the most
humane and most energetic of commanders, the task of maintaining strict
discipline amongst ill-paid troops has always proved difficult, if not
impossible; and Charles of Anjou was nearly as destitute of money, as of
humanity; whilst bis deputed commanders appear equally deficient
in energy and in authority—to him who was nominally supreme, Earl Robert,
little if any power being, as before said, intrusted. Accordingly, the
ravenous Provencal adventurers and French volunteer auxiliaries continued
to plunder and maltreat, not only in the Campagna, but in the Eternal
City itself as lawlessly as elsewhere. Thus, although to Charles, involved
in ever renewed dissensions with the Pope, upon questions relative both to
pecuniary concerns and to authority in the Papal capital, the arrival of
his army brought very material support and alleviation of embarrassments,
the relief was not without drawbacks.
Clement waxed more and more wroth, his reproofs and
complaints more and more bitter; and the French prince, who, moreover, knew not
how long he might be able to keep his heterogeneous host together, judged
that it was time to quit Rome,—time,
notwithstanding the winter season, to prosecute his enterprise. But he
likewise judged the receiving investiture of the Sicilies from the Pope, as
Lord Paramount, indispensable, prior to invading the kingdom. Ever since
his arrival, he had been urging Clement to come to Rome and crown him, and
the Holy Father evading compliance with his entreaties, by alleging,
first, his fear of the insalubrity of Rome in summer, and, then his
reluctance to trust himself in the hands of the Romans: he was, perhaps,
yet more reluctant to incur the ridicule of crowning a pretender, who
came, apparently, single-handed, to conquer a kingdom. If this last, unavowed, objection were removed by the presence of
the army, another was created; the total want of discipline
amongst the champions of the papacy very decidedly increasing
the Pope’s reluctance to visit Rome; which his desire for an interview
with a selected vassal, whose whole conduct had hitherto been
dissatisfactory to him, could not counterbalance. He however acknowledged the
propriety of giving his public formal sanction to the invasion, by
the coronation of the chosen king; and refusing now more pertinaciously
than ever to risk a visit to Rome, amidst Crusaders and citizens, he
appointed five Cardinals as conjointly representing him, to officiate at
the ceremony. By these Cardinals, Charles and Beatrice—who had
joined him in September—were, in St. 'Peter’s Basilica,
solemnly crowned King and Queen of the Two Sicilies, upon the 6th of January, 1266. In gratitude for this decisive act, the
former spontaneously promised a yearly gift of 50 oz. of gold to the
Basilica of St. Peter, in addition to his yearly tribute.
It was the end of the month, before Charles, after
receiving from the Cardinals absolution for all past sins, quitted Rome to lead
his army against Manfred. The restored amity betwixt the priestly
protector and the royal protege was but ephemeral. During the last weeks
of Charles’s residence at; the Lateran, as well as upon his subsequent
march to the Apulian frontier, the total want of discipline in his army,
together with his own perfect indifference to the outrages committed by
his troops, and disregard of Clement’s complaints, remonstrances, and
injunctions, had thoroughly alienated him from the chosen champion of his
predecessor. So completely was he disgusted with Charles, that, even at the
risk of seeming to censure his predecessor, he, upon the 21st of February, proposed
to the consistory, as a question for discussion, whether it might not
still be best to treat with Manfred, making his solemn abjuration of
heresy, the single indispensable condition of his reconciliation with the
Church and recognition as King of the Sicilies. That this
more Christian idea of the line of conduct, beseeming the spiritual Head
of Christendom, even occurred to the Holy Father, may perhaps be allowed
some weight in considering the credit due to the accusations heaped
upon Manfred; that it occurred too late to be acted upon, was the
King’s misfortune, assuredly not his fault, for never had he relaxed his
endeavours to obtain relief from excommunication. Even during his rival’s
sojourn at Rome, he had envoys at the Papal court soliciting, as a favour,
a trial, and consequent relief from, or confirmation of the anathema
under which he lay. They were further commissioned to treat, if possible, with
the rival in person, and visited him at the Lateran for this purpose: but
the only answer they received from him, was: “Tell the Sultan of
Nocera, that I shall send him to hell or he me to heaven.”
When Manfred saw the many obstacles, by which he had
hoped to impede the invader’s progress through northern and central Italy,
sink before Charles’s craft and skill, he recalled his scattered troops
from the Pope’s dominions, and devoted his attention wholly to the
defence of his frontier. The mountain range, which, running from the
shore of the Adriatic to the western coast, severs the kingdom of the Two
Sicilies from the territory of the Church, formed a barrier insuperable,
save in a very few places, to an army. Of these few passes two only,
those of Tagliacozzo and Ceperano, were
conveniently situated for Charles. Both of these Manfred diligently fortified, but especially the latter, which he judged
the most likely to be attempted. Whilst these measures were in progress,
he established his headquarters at Benevento, as a point well suited
for the general superintendence of all necessary defensive operations; and
thither he summoned the great vassals of the kingdom, with deputies from
the provinces and towns, and the leaders of his German and
Italian mercenaries. When assembled, he is said to have harangued
them; showing the necessity of unanimity and combined exertion against the
invaders, by pointing out the consequences of their success: viz., the
improbability that an usurper should, when the monarch was overthrown,
leave the subjects in quiet possession of estates, which he must needs
want for the remuneration of the greedy adventurers, to whose swords he
would be indebted for his conquest; an improbability, converted into a
certainty, by the invader's own character, and that which his army was
displaying in the territories of friends; thus ending: “ Let us then, for
our common interest, our common rights, our common honour, manfully
resist insolent injustice; let us, upon this, their first attempt, scare
away from these madly rapacious Frenchmen, and scare away for ever, the notion
that they, at their will and pleasure, can enthrall the independent kings and states of our beautiful Italy."
These glowing words were answered with enthusiastic
cheers; and Manfred, relying upon the cordial co-operation of his people,
dismissed the assembly, to do, each man his own part, towards the defence
of his country, and the repulse of the invaders. But seldom have
appearances been more delusive. Letters, emissaries, promises, on
the part of Charles, on the Pope's, representations of Manfred's imputed
crimes, irreligion, usurpation, and disobedience to his liege Lord, had long been
at work amongst all classes, not least amongst the higher; and they
had not worked in vain. If in the majority of cheerers the enthusiasm was genuine, in few only was it efficient or enduring: in
too many nothing more than an evanescent reflexion of the eloquence of
passion, and in some altogether fictitious; a mask, behind which
lurked treason, self-justified by bigotry and superstition.
Manfred had fixed upon Capua, as the point upon which
the force of the kingdom should collect, as being a central position,
whence succours could be readily sent whithersoever needed. But very slowly the
troops congregated, some through sheer dilatory habits, some in
non-appreciation of a danger that seemed remote, as from Calabria and
Sicily; others through treachery, or the leaders’ fear of
committing themselves, in case of the worst. Nevertheless, body
after body of men gradually came in. Charles, meanwhile,
was advancing by Frosinone towards Ceperano.
Manfred, however disturbed at the smallness of the army that he could as yet bring into the field, and at his
consequent inability to encounter the far stronger foe, was under no
apprehension for that well-guarded as momentous pass. Of the two
fortresses that defended and commanded it, San Germano, protected by mountains
on one side, on the other by morasses, was abundantly
garrisoned, armed, and victualled; whilst Rocca d’Arce,
if less strong by nature, was equally well provided. The bridge
over the Garigliano he had committed, with the very flower of the
Apulian army, to his uncle, Conte Giordano Lancia, and his brother-in-law,
Ricciardo Conte di Caserta, whose large estates lay upon that frontier.
Could arrangements be better made, commanders for the
most critical post better chosen? It is asserted that a knowledge of the
King’s judicious measures, together with the aspect of the local and
physical difficulties presented by the high piled rocks, the deep and
rapid river, and the strongly guarded bridge, shook the confidence of
the adventurers. But even here had corruption been at work. Caserta
had given ear to the offers of Charles; he was in correspondence with him,
and coloured his treachery, even to himself, perhaps as to his seducer, by
professing jealousy of the warm affection subsisting between
Manfred and his sister Violante,—who for
seventeen years had been Countess of Caserta,—suspicions
that theirs was not a fraternal but a criminal affection. Had such
jealousy been suspected by the accused parties or their friends, or
Manfred been conscious of giving cause for resentment, Caserta would
hardly have been selected for so important a post, or trusted, as it will
be seen he was, by Lancia. But whether really jealous, or impelled to his
breach of trust solely by French gold and French promises, Caserta
certainly undertook to open the bridge to Charles; and made use of his
superior military reputation to delude his unsuspecting colleague, Lancia,
into acquiescence in the preliminary steps.
Upon the 6th of February, 1266, Caserta represented to
Lancia, that by merely guarding the bridge they could not even weaken the
enemy, whom they desired to annihilate; that they were merely protracting
the war, and, perhaps, giving Charles time to discover some other, less
securely defended, entrance into the kingdom; whilst by
suffering part of the hostile army to cross unopposed, and
then falling upon that detached portion, they could cut them off to a
man. Lancia yielded to the admitted strategy of a colleague, whose
fidelity he dreamt not of mistrusting. As corps after corps passed the
bridge, he vehemently urged Caserta to begin the slaughter; but for awhile was put off with the remark, that to effect their purpose they
must wait until so many should have crossed, as to make
their destruction a crippling blow to Charles. Then, when Lancia’s
patience was quite exhausted, suddenly exclaiming that the numbers on their
side of the river were an overmatch for their force, he fled with his
vassals and his division of the army. Lancia, thus deserted, felt himself
so really overmatched by those who had already crossed, that to attempt
resistance would be idly throwing away the lives of men, who might
elsewhere be efficiently useful. He therefore retreated in the best order
he could, to join Manfred. Charles made no pursuit; well satisfied to
be master of this, reputed inexpugnable, pass,
without the loss of a man; and well aware,
moreover, that the two fortresses must be taken ere he advanced another
step.
To these he now directed his attention and seized
Rocca d’Arce by surprise, inasmuch
as, relying upon the defence of the bridge, neither commandant nor
garrison thought precautions necessary against an enemy, believed to
be still beyond the Garigliano. The command of Rocca d’Arce Charles gave to a brother of the
Pope—whose family benefited apparently by his elevation to St.
Peter’s Chair, whether with or without his concurrence — and turned
to San Germano; but here he paused. His proximity was now known, and his
approach prepared for. The Governor proved as inaccessible to corruption,
as were his walls to assault, and doubt and hesitation prevailed in
the invader’s camp. But fortune favoured Charles, where bribery
failed him. Betwixt the Christians and Mohammedans in the mixed garrison,
dissensions had arisen from the moment of their being, shut up together;
which, if they did not lessen their common hatred and contempt for the
crusading enemies of their King, had probably much to do with the absence
of discipline, by which Charles profited. But of benefit from their
disorders, he saw little hope, since against him Christians and
Mohammedans were united. Scoffs and taunts were exchanged
betwixt those who manned the walls, and those who would fain
have scaled them, and the mutual exasperation thus produced was at
its height, when some horseboys of the Provençal army
were observed by the garrison, fetching water from the immediate vicinity
of the town. A sudden unauthorized sally was made by a handful of men to
capture them; the masters of the rash water-seekers saw the danger
of their servants, and hastened to protect them, whereupon more of
the garrison hurried out to support their comrades; until gradually, on either
side, considerable numbers were engaged in the affray. In the confusion of
this unpremeditated action, the gate by which the garrison
had sallied remained open and inadequately guarded. Vendome noticed the
neglect, and collecting a troop of bold fellows, rushed upon the weak
post, overpowered the guard, forced his way in, and whilst holding
possession of the gate, planted his banner on the wall directly above
it. The sight excited the besiegers as much as it dismayed the
besieged. More and more of the assailants poured
in through the mastered gate, and the struggle was now within,
instead of without the walls. All advantage of position was thus
heedlessly sacrificed, and though the Apulians,
especially the Saracens, fought most resolutely, they could not, without
such advantage, stand against the enormous disparity of numbers, a
garrison against an army. Upwards of 1000 of the besieged were slain,
ultimately more fled; and upon the 10th of February, four days after the
passage of the Garigliano, San Germano was lost.
Disasters so thoroughly unexpected spread alarm and
discouragement through the kingdom. The reputation of the French for
superior valour, already a cause of apprehension, was naturally heightened,
whilst the outrages committed by the victors, similar to those by which they had, for the moment, alienated so many Italian
Guelphs, increased the growing terror. Men, whom desperation should
have nerved to stubborn resistance, began to think of conciliating by
submission; and many places, the reputed impregnable Gaeta one, opened
their gates. Wherever this was done, Charles’s deputies received
the oath8 of allegiance to the vassal-King of the Roman See, and extorted heavy contributions for his service.
But, if his subjects were discouraged, Manfred was
not. The line of the Garigliano being lost, he took up that of the
Volturno. He improved the fortifications of Capua, and of its bridge over
this river; whilst he drew, with all practicable despatch, fresh troops to
his new central, and now most important, point. Here there was no treason
to undermine strength of position; and Charles was assured, both by
his spies, and by the Apulian traitors, that to force the Capuan bridge
was impossible. But he was, unluckily, as able a general as Manfred, and
did not attempt to take the bull by the horns. He caused the whole
neighbouring district to be explored, whilst for some days he remained
quietly at San Germano. At length, at a spot high up amidst the mountains,
which the extraordinary mildness of the winter left just accessible,
by difficult tracks rather than paths, the river was
reported fordable. Upon the 15th, Charles received this report, and commenced his mountain march towards the ford of the Volturno, by which he
was to turn the King’s, otherwise inexpugnable,
position.
When Manfred learned this movement, at once seeing, he
prepared to baffle, his enemy’s design, by quitting Capua, and leading his
army forward to Benevento, upon Charles’s line of march. This he reached,
took up a new position, covering the city, and made his arrangements
for receiving the invaders. He had time to complete them; for the
circuitous inarch proved yet more difficult of execution than was anticipated.
The path, which in summer might have presented few obstacles, in the month
of February was just not impracticable. The way led amongst and over
mountains, by nearly impassable tracks, through a barren, thinly inhabited
district, affording food, at this season of the year, neither for man nor
for beast. Gradually all baggage was left behind; Charles lost
his horses, some literally starved to death for want of forage, others
killed for food by his half-famished soldiers. Nor could the weary, hungry
troops at night find shelter; but, during almost the whole of this
eleven-days’ march, slept in the open air, upon the bare ground. Had not
fortune again favoured Charles in the unwonted soft temperature of
this month of February, of 1266, Manfred would have had little to
apprehend from the hostile army at the end of its mountain march.
As it was, when, upon the 26th of February, the
invaders, after fatigues and hardships scarcely to be endured, reached, about
noon, the brow of the last ridge, and looked down upon the plain of
Benevento, which, amidst plenty and comfort, they thought to cross, they
beheld the Sicilian army awaiting them in battle-array.
Vehement dissensions now arose, amongst the Provençal and
French leaders, as to the expediency of instantly attacking, or of
affording rest to men and horses, by deferring the action until the
morrow. Those, who advocated delay, urged the folly of leading troops,
faint with hunger and fatigue, against a fresh, well-fed army, evidently
far more numerous than they had been taught to expect.
Their opponents replied, that if less weary on the morrow, the men
would be more hungry, since they had breakfasted this morning,
but had neither victuals left, nor means of procuring any; and the
Constable Le Brun, who—an honest bigot, perhaps the only one in
the army—really deemed himself the champion of the Church, exclaimed:
“Were I here alone, I would on the instant attack them, in the name of the
Holy Christian Church; and in that name should assuredly conquer”
The boldness of this extravagant fanaticism called
forth an answering enthusiastic burst; and Charles, seizing
the opportunity, is reported to have thus addressed his council of
leaders: “The long wished for day of battle has at last dawned, and we
must now conquer or die! Only because we are conquerors, do the towns and
states of Italy receive us with any show of respect; should we ever
be defeated, their ingrained hatred and wonted fickleness would break
out anew, and not one of us escape open attack or secret snares; not one
of us ever again behold his distant home. Better to die in battle,
honourably and together, than miserably, singly, in disgraceful
flight. Fear not your foes! At Ceperano, where a
handful might have withstood myriads, they fled like cowards; why
should they be bolder now? You are of a race whose renown for valour fills
the world with dread; our enemies are of different blood and country. We
fight, as good Christians, in a hallowed cause, and blessed by the
Church; they are of other creeds, bowed down to the earth by the
weight of their guilt, and doomed to eternal perdition.” Having thus spoken,
Charles gave directions touching the order of battle, and conferred
knighthood upon several aspirants to its honours, upon some in recompense
of past achievements, upon others as a spur to new ones. Then the Bishop
of Auxerre, as Legate, solemnly granted the whole army absolution of their
sins prospectively, or contingently, that is to say,
when they should have expiated them according to his injunction,
by gaining a complete victory over the enemy of the Church.
Similar dissensions as to attacking or awaiting attack
were held in the royal camp, upon the invader’s appearing in sight. Some
objected to giving battle before the junction of the reinforcements, daily
expected out of Sicily and Calabria, and even then to fighting an enemy who must needs die of hunger, if he could be detained
for a few days where he was. Others judged that to cut hungry,
weary, sickly troops to pieces would be child's play; and to endure
the devastation of their native land for another day, disgraceful. But it
is alleged that such arguments weighed little in the deliberation; the
advice to engage or to procrastinate being mainly determined by the
private designs of the several speakers; by their fidelity to
King and country, or their contemplated treachery. Some persons amongst
the latter seem scarcely to have disguised their criminal intentions,
since they are said to have insolently taunted Manfred with being governed
by an astrologer; declaring that they held it a more imperative duty to
protect their own domains, vassals, and families, than to share in
calamities caused by the King’s perverse policy, and disobedience to the
Holy See; some even telling the monarch that he had better give up
the contest and fly.
Deeply must Manfred have felt this disloyalty, in
which he could hardly fail to see the fruit of his imperfect title to the
crown; of his one unjustifiable, if venial act, accepting the birthright
of his infant nephew. But whatever he felt, manfully and royally he
answered: “Rather may I die here, as befits a King, than wander, a
beggarly fugitive, through foreign lands!” And if, amongst his
counsellors, were found too many evil disposed, others there were
more worthy of their gallant Sovereign. The Lancias, the Roman, Tebaldo di Annibale, with a few congenial
spirits, stood forward, exclaiming: “Lord King, thy life is our life,
thy safety our safety. Without thee, nought but infamy and misery await us. For
thee will we fight, and this very hour conquer or die!” Enkindled by
their honest zeal, many re-echoed the cry, as did the fugitives from
San Germano and Ceperano, who felt that they had
a blot to efface from their names. And thus, by a burst of sentiment,
rather than upon any grounds of strategy or policy, did those, whose
interest almost invariably dictates avoidance of a pitched battle and wearying
out the enemy; namely the invaded, resolve to engage at once.
Manfred has been much blamed for assenting to this
injudicious resolution; and very possibly, disgust at the perfidy he
discovered around him, may have given impatience to have his fate decided, the
ascendency over his prudence, or he might fear that delay would
give time for such desertion, as must dishearten the whole nation.
According to contemporary chroniclers, having so assented* he thus, in a
sort of counterpart of Charles’s bombast, encouraged his troops: “At
length our enemies are before us, but where are their renowned
strength and beauty? How small and poor are their horses!
How easy must victory be, provided we leave them not
time to gain life and vigour in our fair and fertile land! Only the first
attack of the French is impetuous and formidable; when they unexpectedly
encounter steady resistance, their foolhardy temerity soon gives place to
incredible cowardice. And we—let us, as a worthy posterity,
recollect the deeds of our progenitors! We, whose ancestors so
often vanquished the Gauls, can we fear them as adversaries? We,
hitherto free and independent, shall we bow down our necks to their
tyranny? Shall we prolong a degraded existence with the alms of strangers?
Compared with such life, death were a gain; and
manfully will we wrest victory from them, or find liberty in death
Respecting the numbers on either side, there seems to
be no authentic account. Manfred’s were computed by the French, and by
Guelph writers, who, to enhance their victory, of course made the most of
them, at 5000 horse, and 10,000 Saracen archers; infantry, besides these
Saracens, is not named in any statement of the composition of the
army, though mention of infantry, apparently distinct from
them, occurs in the description of the engagement. The cavalry, whatever
the amount, Manfred divided into three battles, as such bodies were then
called. The first, consisted of his Germans, in whose fidelity he had full
confidence, and in whose ranks fought, it is said, as a friend and kinsman, his
father’s godson—the future Emperor,—Rudolph of Habsburg which, if true, is some presumption
that the circumstances, leading to Manfred’s acceptance of
his nephew’s crown, were generally thought much to palliate the deed;
since Rudolph as pious as he was chivalrous, would harldly,
upon his return from an expiatory crusade against the Prussians, have
volunteered offending the Pope, by such support to the treacherous
despoiler of his godfather’s lawful heir. The command of this body
Manfred gave to his uncle, Galvano Lancia. The second, comprising the
Lombard and Tuscan Ghibelines was under his uncle Giordano, who was on
fire to redeem the shame of having been so unfortunately duped upon the
Garigliano. Apulians and Saracens composed the
third, at whose head the King placed himself. The Saracen archers,
and whatever more infantry he had, seem to have been apportioned amongst
these three bodies of cavalry.
The highest Ghibeline estimate of Charles’s army at
this date, does not exceed 30,000 men, and this is generally thought an
exaggeration; but the Guelph accounts, that reduce it lowest still make the numbers very superior to Manfred’s. This army
likewise was divided into three, if not four battles; the first consisting
of French horse under the Marechal de Mirepoix; the second, of
Provencal horse, under Guy de Montfort; the third, of Flemings, Brabazons, Picards, and
Savoyards, under Earl Robert and his military tutor, the Constable Le
Brun; —their delegated supreme command of course ceasing when they
joined its delegator, Charles. The fourth battle, or detached corps, if
too inconsiderable for the former name, although to this body some Italian
writers give the chief, if not the whole credit of the victory was
formed solely of 400 Tuscans; those Florentine fuorusciti,
who—if become a Condottiere band—were, as such, now
fighting for the cause they naturally supported, and were commanded by
their natural leader, Conte Guido Guerra. The infantry, from the great
loss of horses, unusually numerous and important, was distributed amongst
the three battles.
Yet after all this circumstantial detail of
deliberation on both sides, of concurrent decision by both to engage
on the instant, and of consequent arrangements, the same authorities
make the fatal action, like that which resulted in the capture of San Germano,
altogether the work of accident. The French light infantry appear,
whilst awaiting their orders, to have indulged their hatred
and contempt for Mohammedans, by volunteering, as a pastime, an onslaught
upon the Saracen archers. The Saracens, excited by the advance of the foe, equally
without orders, hastened to meet them; and, being first-rate marksmen,
their arrows wrought such havoc amongst the assailants, as threw them into confusion.
Mirepoix saw the disarray and danger of his own infantry, and still
without orders from Charles, led his horse to their protection. The
archers’ shafts were powerless against plate or chain armour, and the
Saracens, in their turn, were giving way in disorder before a charge, then
generally esteemed irresistible, when Galvano Lancia observed the state of
affairs, and, again without orders, galloped forward with his Germans
to encounter the French cavalry, and avert imminent destruction from the
archers. This was the fourth spontaneous attack, and, like two of its
predecessors, was temporarily successful. Both French and
Germans were brave and practised knights, but the Germans were better
equipped, and both men and horses in better condition, than their antagonists.
The victory seemed already theirs, when Charles himself took part in the
combat. Whilst about to assail Manfred’s own corps with the Provencal
division, he saw the French chivalry, upon whom, himself a Frenchman, he
had mainly relied, all but defeated. Changing his purpose, he flew with
the Provençaux to their support. But even this,
reinforcement was insufficient to turn the scale in their favour; the Germans
were still victorious, when Charles, no scrupulous observer of the
laws of knightly etiquette, gave orders to kill the horses. This
unprecedented behest was obeyed; numbers of Germans fell with their slain
steeds; and could not, burthened as they were with armour, extricate
themselves from beneath the dead or wounded animals.
Victory now as manifestly inclined to Charles, as
previously to Manfred, who, in his turn, prepared to afford his personal aid.
He was issuing preliminary orders for his whole force to bear down upon
the point, where the Germans were unhorsed by the unchivalrous proceeding
of the enemy, when he noticed, it is said, another of their divisions
approaching the scene of action, and asked: “Who are those, so superior in
horses and in armour?” He was told, the Tuscan Guelphs, who had joined the
Provencal army in Lombardy; and exclaimed: “Laudable fidelity! But
where are the Tuscan Ghibelines, whom I have so strenuously supported with
purse and blood? Why do they not render me the like service?” The
reported question and remarks—little consonant with one third of his
army’s consisting of those upbraided Ghibelines—rest upon Guelph
authority. So do the reported rejoinder: “We see Ghibelines, too, in the
enemy’s ranks;” and the King’s reproachful ejaculation: “Faithless ingrates!
They think thus, whoever be the victor, to secure themselves” It is more
certain, that, with his division, Manfred now rushed upon the enemy.
The weak and weary French horse were broken by the
charge, and this seasonable succour by clearing the ground, enabled the
fallen Germans to rise. The struggle was renewed, and again the fortune of
the day fluctuated. Impatiently, Manfred expected the supporting charge
of the remainder of his army, which he had ordered. But for this
critical moment had the traitorous or cowardly Apulian Barons waited, to
make their treason decisive; and suddenly one of Manfred’s knights cried:
“Oh! see, see, Lord King! What a body of your troops are passing over
to the enemy! Oh! what numbers are deserting like traitors!” As Manfred
turned to look, the royal cognisance, a silver eagle that adorned his
helmet, fell on to the pommel of his saddle, and the enlightened
Manfred was startled by the accident as ominous. Mournfully he said:
“This is a warning from God. Securely as with my own hands I had fastened
on the eagle, it could not have fallen naturally.” Then turning to an
elderly warlike noble, named Occursio, who had
been chief cup-bearer to Frederic II, he asked
counsel of him, in the name of his duty to the deceased Emperor. Angrily
as sadly, Occursio replied: “It is too late for
counsel to avail. Where are now your fiddlers and rhymesters, that you
loved better than knights or soldiers? Call them! Let them try
if Charles will dance to their music! But your life, Lord King, I
will redeem with my own!” So saying, he snatched
up the fallen eagle, affixed it to his own helmet, and galloped into the
thickest of the fight, to be slain for the King. Slain Occursio was, but his object was not thus accomplished. Manfred, surrounded by
treason and discontent, felt that for him life was not worth preservings the general’s part was over; a soldier’s
death, all that remained. He likewise, followed
only by the Roman, Tebaldo di Annibale, galloped
into the thickest of the fight, and was seen no more—alive.
The struggle had ceased the victory, the kingdom, were
the Earl of Anjou’s. Of Manfred’s best and bravest warriors, 3000 lay dead
upon the field; whilst, according to some authorities, the victors lost
but one man. An account not easily reconciled with the havoc wrought
at the first onset by the Saracen archers. Amongst the slain some
writers name Frederic of Antioch; whom others state to have died suddenly,
soon after Manfred’s coronation, and this is virtually confirmed by the
anonymous continuator of Jamsilla’s Chronicle;
who speaks of Frederic of Antioch’s son, Conrad, Conte d’Alba,
as already fatherless, when appointed by Manfred Captain of
the March. Amongst the prisoners were at least two Lancias, Giordano
and Bartolommeo, one of the Uberti, and numbers of gallant nobles from all
parts of Italy. But amongst them Manfred was not. Neither had he been
found amongst the slain; and Charles seems to have felt his victory
incomplete, even his final success still uncertain, if Manfred were alive
and at liberty. Hence, possibly, his gloomy answer to the congratulations
thronging around him; to wit: “To the valiant a world seems little;
what is it then to conquer one man?”
For nearly two days, the fate of the King remained
shrouded in mystery. Towards the close of the second, the captive Lancias,
who had secretly cherished a hope that their royal nephew might have
escaped, suddenly recognised his charger, ridden by a trooper of
Picardy. Anxiously they stopped him, to inquire how he had got the
horse, and what he knew of its rider in the battle. The man replied: “During
the heat of the battle that knight, with a single companion, burst into
our squadron, loudly calling his countrymen to follow him. Had they done
so and fought like him, in good sooth I tell you, the victory had been
yours. But they came not at his call; my spear wounded his horse; and
rearing, it fell back upon the rider, whom my comrades slew and plundered,
as he lay unable to defend himself. The steed and this belt were my share
of the booty.”
The dialogue, importing the death of the still dreaded
Manfred, had drawn the attention of the victors; and numbers eagerly
followed the Picard, to the site of the adventure he had described. There
lay two corpses, completely stripped. The exulting conquerors flung that, which
the Picard pointed out as the rider of his steed, across an ass, and, as
they drove the animal before them, one of them, in savage insolence of
exultation, set up a cry of “Who'll buy Manfred? Who'll buy Manfred?”
But a French baron, who had joined the party, chastised him on the
spot, and the body, without further insult, was borne to the presence of
Charles. When laid down, two mortal wounds appeared in the head and
breast; and the Sicilian vassals, prisoners and traitors alike, were
summoned, to say whether in this corpse they recognised their King. A
melancholy affirmative was the general answer; whilst Giordano Lancia,
sobbing out, “Oh my dear Lord and King,” covered his face with his hands,
and burst into a passion of tears, that awakened reverential
sympathy in the French chivalry; who could not, perhaps would
not, conceal their disgust, at the heartless indifference with which
Caserta identified the slain brother-in-law, whom he had betrayed to
destruction.
The French knights now surrounded Charles with urgent
petitions, to inter the gallant monarch with the rites and ceremonies due
to his high station and character; but he coldly answered, that an
excommunicated man could neither be borne to the grave with Christian
rites, nor lie in consecrated ground. By those who had loved and
honoured him, therefore, was Manfred obscurely buried, at the foot of a
bridge over the Calore, beside the battlefield. The last class, those who
honoured him, included well nigh the whole
French army. The soldiers were indignant at seeing the valiant King, their
heroic foe, consigned to an outcast’s grave, and they heaped
stones over his lowly resting place; whilst the native
peasantry, whom he had protected from feudal oppression,
planted rose-bushes around it, until the spot gained the name of the
Rock, or Field, of roses. Are not such regrets Manfred's best vindication
from Guelph accusations? The honours thus spontaneously paid to the dead
victim of papal inveteracy, exasperated his old rebel and enemy,
the Archbishop of Cosenza. He declared that the excommunicated tyrant must
not repose within his usurped kingdom, desecrating the property of the
Church; and ordered the corpse to be exhumed and re-buried just beyond the
frontier.
The second grave was situated in a remote, narrow
glen, near a lonely mill; but, even in that rude and sequestered mountain
ravine, tradition dwelt, and even to the present day, as is reported,
still dwells, upon the wisdom, the beauty, and the misfortunes of il Re
Manfredi.
To return to the field, and the day of battle. The
Sicilian fugitives sought shelter in Benevento, but finding none. For
Benevento, trusting that the Champion of the Church, came as a friend, to
take pacific possession, for the Pope, of the principality he had ceded to
the Roman See, threw open her gates to the victor, whom her
clergy hurried forth, to meet, in procession, and congratulate upon
his victory. But the Champion of the Church gave up Benevento, the
acknowledged property of his protector, to be sacked for a week, and
looked calmly on, whilst, during a whole week, Church Crusaders revelled
unchecked in robbery, murder, and atrocities of every kind.
These flagitious deeds are recorded in a letter from Clement
IV, which might almost be the answer to Charles’s announcement of his
victory. The Pope, after reproachfully observing, that the joy, inspired by the
victory at Benevento, was suddenly troubled by the continuous sacking of
the city, thus rebukes the conqueror, his chosen vassal: “Ye have
spared neither ecclesiastical* nor lay property, neither station, age, nor
sex! Crusaders, especially bound to protect churches and cloisters, have
stormed and plundered them, have burnt the effigies of saints, and perpetrated
the last outrage upon virgins consecrated to God. And these horrible
crimes, of all descriptions, robbery, murder, sacrilege, were not the mere
outbreak of violence in the intoxication of battle and of victory; they
were continuously committed, for eight whole days, under thine own
eyes, and not a step was taken to repress them. Yea, it is averred that
these things were of set purpose connived at, because the city was the
Pope’s property, not the King’s. Of a truth, never did the Emperor
Frederic II, as the enemy of the Church, act so nefariously.” Who can choose but
rejoice, at even this small degree of commending “the ingredients of the
poisoned chalice, to the papal lips,” though wishing that the airy chalice
had been more poisoned, and the lips those of Clement’s more guilty predecessor?
The contents had thus been tasted not vicariously, but by the individual
concoctor of the dose, though to him, perhaps, the pain had been less.
The fate of the royal family of Sicily may be briefly
told. Queen Helena, with her children and her sister-in-law, Anna, the widow of
Vatazes—who, upon his death, had sought her brother’s protection—had been
sent during the campaign to Luceria, as the place of greatest
security. The news of her consort’s death threw Helena into
a death-like swoon, and returning consciousness discovered to her the
desertion of courtiers and servants, who— “summer friends” indeed!—had hurried away to tender their submission to
the dreaded conqueror. But altogether forsaken the unhappy widow and
orphans were not. A loyal citizen of Trani, Munualdu by name, chanced to be at Luceria with his wife Amundilla, and they took
charge of the slain monarch’s desolate family. Deciding that the only
safe asylum for them was the court of Helena’s father, for which they must
embark at Trani, they sent to another worthy citizen of that town, to
provide a vessel for the sad fugitives, against their arrival. This was
done; but contrary winds so long prevented their sailing, that it
was thought prudent to forestall a discovery, in perhaps
hostile temper, by placing confidence in the Governor of the castle.
Here again Helena found the appearance at least of honest loyalty; the
Governor received his slain King’s widow, children and sister, with due
respect, and pledged himself to insure their escape. But still adverse
winds prevailed; to leave the harbour was still an impossibility; and
meanwhile a rumour of the whereabouts, as of the purposed flight of the
royal family, stole abroad. Some of the Mendicant Friars who had long been
obediently employed in stirring up rebellion against Manfred in every part of
the kingdom, hastened to Trani to prevent the escape of those, who might
hereafter become rivals to the Pope’s King. The Governor’s loyalty was not
proof against the art with which they worked upon his piety, and his
fears. He now detained his helpless royal guests; and, upon the 6tb
of March, delivered them up to the new King’s messengers. The Champion of
the Church, bearing a cross upon his shoulder in testimony of transcendent
Christianity, forthwith incarcerated the two widows, and the four orphans
in the Castello dell' Uovo, at
Naples, where the bereaved Queen is known to have presently sunk
under her sorrows, though the precise date of her decease is uncertain.
She left her children and her imperial sister-in-law to pine in hopeless
captivity.
The captive nobles, prisoners, Charles sent to his
French dominions, where they were thrown into dungeons, and treated with
the utmost barbarity, whilst the confiscation of their property deprived
them of all hope of ransoming themselves. At length, driven to despair, they
rose upon their jailers, overpowered them, broke out of prison, and fled.
But, in France, they had no friends to aid or shelter them, and
by far the greater number were retaken. Either in punishment of this attempt
at escape, or to prevent its repetition, Charles, declaring that their
lives were forfeited at their original capture, being taken in open
rebellion, ordered their eyes to be put out, and of each a hand and foot
to be cut off. From this state of misery the
mangled victims speedily, if sinfully, effected their escape. They
refused all nutriment, and starved themselves to
death. Of these wretched suicides, Bartolommeo Lancia was certainly
one; whether Giordano was, or was not, seems doubtful; in fact, some
strange confusion seems to exist upon this subject— Giordano is said to have
again appeared upon the political stage, and to have been taunted by
Charles as a prison breaker. On the other hand, it is said, that when
Galvano and Federigo Lancia, from Terracina, where they had found
refuge after the fatal defeat, concluded a treaty with a Marshal of
Charles’s, who guaranteed their lives, Charles refused to ratify it,
because Galvano was a fugitive from his French prison. Now this treaty,
and Charles’s refusal to be bound by it, are facts established by a
letter, in Martene’s Collection, from Clement IV to Charles, rebuking
him sharply for various acts of tyranny, especially for his non-observance
of this treaty. That historians have evidently confounded one brother with
the other, is obvious, since the capitulation of Federigo and
Galvano must needs have been long prior to the prison-breaking in
Provence or Anjou. The probability is, that Giordano was one of the
wretched suicides in Charles’s dungeons, although it is possible that some
of the prison-breakers, and he for one, might escape their pursuers.
Clement appears to have well-judged his protegé’s motive, in allowing his Crusaders to glut their
rapacity and brutality upon Benevento; for Capua, that
likewise opened its gates, but in fear only, not in even
professed loyalty, seems to have suffered nothing of the kind. Naples
followed the example of Capua, and into this capital of the continental
portion of the kingdom Charles, accompanied by Beatrice, made a
ceremoniously triumphal entry. The keys of the city were presented to the
conqueror by Francesco di Roffredo, with a harangue—in French!—and
the whole kingdom, on both sides of the Faro, without striking a second
blow, without an attempt at defence, submitted.
One exception to the general, dastardly non-resistance
there, however, was, in the person of Manfred’s Grand Admiral, Filippo Chinardi,—who so unhappily missed Charles upon his
passage—and his undeviating fidelity met with a return as cruel, as it was
unexpected. Chinardi thought to rescue his sovereign’s fleet from
the usurper’s grasp, and secure, for the royal children, the Greek
domains that Helena had brought Manfred as her portion, by at once making
sail for Epirus. There, the Queen’s father, Michael, received him with the
warmest expressions of gratitude, for such loyal exertions in behalf of his bereaved daughter and grandchildren;
giving him, in acknowledgment, a sister of his own wife in
marriage. But, having thus lulled him into perfect security,
he caused his new brother-in-law to be assassinated, thinking that
his taking possession of his widowed daughter’s portion, and his slain
son-in-law’s fleet, would then be unopposed; It is some consolation to add
to the relation of such sickening perfidy, that this heartlessly selfish
traitor did not gain the prize that had tempted him. The Italian
commanders on shore surrendered the province they could not save for the
right owners, to the Emperor Baldwin (if the continuator of Ville-Hardouin
may be relied upon), and those at sea, preferring the declared foe to the
false friend, acknowledged Charles.
The meanness, with which Apulians and Sicilians offered their necks to the yoke, Muratori would fain attribute
to hatred, provoked by the cruelties of Frederic and Conrad, and
inherited by Manfred; but he admits that fear of French prowess, hope of
favour from the conqueror, and love of change, contributed their share.
The French chivalry were disgusted; and the
French chronicler of Charles’s conquest writes: “It is the habit and
nature of the people of this country, that when need is, no
reliance can be placed upon them, and that they would have a
new master every day.” Strange, that the nation should have retained
this character even to the present day, notwithstanding the lesson Charles gave
them, and the early, bitter repentance, of their fickleness, attested,
even by Guelph writers, that the said lesson produced. Adulation and
meanness were unavailing, alike to the nation at large, and to the
individual officers in authority under Manfred. These last were, almost to
a man, dismissed, and their places filled, either by indigent as rapacious
French and Provençal adventurers, often of the lowest
grade— appointed, not like Frederic IPs low-born officers,
for talent, but because tyranny frequently prefers, as instruments, those
who, save as its creatures, are nothing—or by such Sicilians, as Caserta
and others, whose treason to their native, freely chosen sovereign had
previously secured its recompense.
The words, almost to a man, were advisedly used, for
one of those officers Charles retained. This was Gezelino di
Marra, Grand Chamberlain, with whose financial skill and knowledge he
could not for the moment dispense, and who, if not one of the previous
traitors, very promptly declared his willingness to surrender his late
sovereign’s treasure to his sovereign’s conqueror. The treasure
was so considerable,—Manfred having carefully
provided the means of carrying on a prolonged war against
inveterate enmity and actual invasion—that, when surrendered,
it dazzled the eyes of the avaricious Charles. The better to gloat
over such riches, he ordered the coffers of money to be emptied out on to
the floor, in the presence of himself, his Queen, and several knights; one of
whom he desired to take scales and weigh the gold. But the
good knight, Sir Hugues de Vaux, with a proper chivalrous disdain of
Mammon and Mammon-worshippers, cried: “What have I to do with weighing
your gold!” Then, kicking it into three heaps, he resumed: “There!
you can take one parcel, your Queen another, and your knights the
third.” The disrespect of this answer Charles certainly did not punish,
accepting, it may be presumed, de Vaux’s satisfactory principle of
division as compensation; but, whether he rewarded the
bold speaker with the county of Avellino, is a disputed point, being
asserted by some historians, and denied by others.
BOOK
V.
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