_CHAPTER LI_.
_THE TRIBUNE_.
Whilst the deputies of the Lombard cities were travelling through theprovince and working at the organization of the league, Frederic andhis army were encamped before the walls of Rome. Informed of the stormwhich threatened from the North, he would have raised the siege andmarched at once against the rebels, but Dassel dissuaded him. It wasfirst necessary, the statesman urged, to expel Alexander from Rome, andplace Pascal upon the throne of Saint Peter.
Henry the Lion, the Duke of Austria, and nearly all the princes of notehad refused to send their contingents against Rome, and remainedquietly in their homes, for they had begun to foresee the designs ofthe Emperor.
The German and Italian bishops, however, eagerly took part in thesiege, and, clothed in armor, prepared to use the sword and lance tooverthrow the successor of St. Peter. For the monarch had at lasthumbled the pride of the prelates, who, for the most part, were hismere tools, whose consciences were fettered with golden shackles. Richand powerful, their ambition urged them to further the projects of theEmperor, which in abasing the Papacy lessened the power of the temporalprinces.
Frederic's army was numerous, brave, and accustomed to victory. Adivision commanded by the Archbishop of Mayence and Cologne, hadalready achieved some successes, but Rome still held out, and her fallseemed yet uncertain. Everything presaged a long struggle, much to thedissatisfaction of the Emperor, who had just learned the increasingdevelopment of the Lombard league and the advance of William of Naples,who was marching to the assistance of the eternal city.
"Your advice is replete with danger," said Barbarossa to hisChancellor; "the Lombards are rising _en masse_; they have decapitatedor hung my lieutenants, and are working diligently upon thefortifications of Milan, whilst we stand here idle. It is a mistake, anevident mistake."
Rinaldo merely smiled with the air of one who feels certain of success.
"When we can strike at the heart of our enemy it would be folly to tryonly to wound his foot," said he. "Rome is the heart; Alexander is thelife of the confederation. Let Alexander fall, the rest must die ofnecessity."
"Your arguments are good, but mere argument will not harm a hair ofRoland's head."
"Every precaution has been taken against contingencies," continuedDassel, without replying to the Emperor's observation. "The Pisan fleetguards the mouth of the Tiber, our Brabancon troops scour the country;in short, Roland's escape is impossible."
"It is most probable that he will not put your precautions to thetest."
"Within three days at the latest, my Emperor and Lord will hear in theChurch of St. Peter the solemn mass which I myself will celebrate as athanksgiving," said Dassel, calmly.
Frederic gazed at him in astonishment.
"My captains watch most diligently," resumed the statesman, "and Rolandwould need wings to get away again! If I had a hundred more gold piecesto spend, perhaps the worthy Romans would open their gates to usto-morrow. My promises, too, have a good deal of weight: abolition ofall taxes, re-establishment of the Senate, privilege of electing thePope!"
"Ah! you have promised all that?" said Frederic.
"Certainly! but when you are in the city, you can only keep as manypromises as it suits you; for, personally, you are pledged to nothing.I assure your Majesty that I have never seen a city which can be soeasily deceived as Rome: all that is necessary is to promise.Everything is false among the brave Romans."
"I know and appreciate them as they deserve," replied Frederic. "Allthat remains of their ancient glory is an overweening pride, which Imean to humble."
"Hark!" cried Dassel, "what is that noise?"
An extraordinary clamor was heard in the direction of the square of St.Peter, where an immense mob shouted and howled in such confusion thatit was impossible to understand their meaning.
A marble column stood in the centre of the square, but in place of theimage of the Holy Virgin, which it usually supported, it now served asa pedestal for the tailor Guerrazzi, while the sacred statue was laidupon the ground beside it, and a dense crowd pressed forward to listento the excited orator. The tailor laughed and wept alternately, wavedhis hands, beat his breast, and tore his hair, while his voice assumed,by turns, an expression of menace or of flattery, as the occasionrequired. Guerrazzi was a paid agent of the Chancellor, and it was hispockets which received the gold pieces of which the latter had spoken,and which were to be distributed among the conspirators. The Romanswere sharing the common lot of all those nations who are mad enough tosuppose that schemers have any other object in view than self-interest;they were deceived and sold by the very men whom they considered to betheir most devoted champions.
The orator pointed proudly towards a circular tower, which stood infront of him, commanding the square, with which it communicated by abridge and a wide street. This building, whose lofty walls overlookedthe whole city, was the mausoleum of Adrian, afterwards called thecastle of Saint Angelo, and at present the Pope's last refuge.
"Look there!" cried the tailor, who was trying to flatter the nationalpride of his audience by recalling the mighty deeds of their ancestors;"look there at Adrian's mausoleum! there stands a memento of Romangrandeur. How magnificent it still is! I see before me the sons of theGracchi, of the Scipios, of Brutus, the descendants of the masters ofthe world. But what are we to-day? We are mere pigmies in comparisonwith our progenitors. Ah!" said he, weeping, "there was a time whenRome dictated laws to the world, and all nations paid tribute toher majesty. Then our Senate, like a council of gods, sat in theCapitol!--And now?--But who has robbed us of this greatness? Whogoverns the universe after despoiling the Roman people of itspower?--The Pope!"--and the angry tailor paused.
"It is true!--It is true!"
"Well said!"
"What wisdom!"
And the crowd burst out in frantic applause.
"Romans!" continued the orator, "fellow-citizens! the Popes are thesuccessors of that Saint Peter who thrice denied his master; butmany of them seem to take as their model the thief, the traitorJudas!--Consequently, all the Popes are great men, but"--(here hepaused and pointed to the castle)--"all the Popes are not saints!"
Again the mob applauded, but the wily orator, seeing at once that hetrod on dangerous ground, made a skilful diversion.
"No one will dispute the fact that our Holy Father Alexander is one ofthe greatest of the Popes!" and his voice rang out loudly, as though toprevent all denial. "But although Alexander is a great and holypersonage, will he restore to the Romans those privileges of which theyhave been deprived? No, fellow-citizens, he will not, because hecannot! He swore to hand down the spoils intact upon the day that heassumed the triple crown. But be comforted, fellow-citizens; we have apowerful protector, and that protector is the Emperor! Yes, the Emperorwill bring back to Rome her pristine splendor; he will give her oncemore all that was hers, for he glories in being the defender of rightand justice! Again you will have a Senate seated in the Capitol, forthe power of priestcraft has had its day. Your ancestors had the rightto elect the Pope; this right will again be restored to you. And do youknow why Barbarossa refuses to acknowledge Alexander? Solely because hewas not elected by the Roman people!"
A murmur of approbation and pleasure ran through the crowd.
"Neither Alexander nor Pascal will sit upon the pontifical throne; youcan choose for Pope whom you please. Such is the Emperor's will." Theorator was fast gaining his point, for if the Romans no longerpossessed the energy of their ancestors, at least they had their pride.
"Rome will again reign supreme; all her liberties, all her privilegeswill be restored, and she will once more rule the world as before theusurpation of the Popes. The Emperor has promised it, and Barbarossakeeps his word. But, you will ask, what does he require in exchange?Nothing, nothing except to receive from your hands the dignity of Romanpatrician, nothing but the privilege of nominating the Pope of your ownchoice! Will you accept the hand str
etched out to you by the nobleEmperor, or will you close your gates against the defender of yourliberties?"
"Long live the Emperor! Long live Barbarossa!" was shouted on allsides.
"Long live Frederic and the Rome of Augustus!" And the cries of thepopulace rent the air.
"Rejoice, O Rome! mistress of the world," cried the excited tailor,"thou wilt once more see thy Senate, thy Capitol, the tribunes of thypeople!
"Romans," he added, with increasing energy, "to your work withoutdelay, every moment is of value: Elect your tribunes, send themimmediately to the Emperor; tell him that you confer on him the titleof Roman patrician, and that you wish to choose a Pope who will defendyour rights and liberties!"
Guerrazzi descended from the rostrum, and the election of the tribunesbegan.
Barbarossa; An Historical Novel of the XII Century. Page 53
