Barbarossa; An Historical Novel of the XII Century.

"Alas!" Galdini exclaimed.

"I am uneasy for Clemence's safety. The fate of the unfortunate Empress Adelaide is still unknown; she has disappeared, and Clemence too might be spirited away, if I did not prevent it. I will go to-day, and solicit from the French King a strong escort to conduct her to her relatives. The unfortunate princess will travel through Lorraine and Bavaria to Austria under the protection of my troops. She will there be able to end in peace her blighted existence; for, even should Henry return to kinder sentiments, she can scarcely look for much happiness in her husband's society."

Galdini Sala thanked the Duke, and they separated after the latter had repeated his assurance of unalterable fidelity to Pope Alexander.

"Recommend me, my house, and my country to the blessing of His Holiness-and comfort poor Clemence."

Whilst the archdeacon was on his way to the tent where the nobles were assembled, Barbarossa was taking leave of the Count of Champagne, and their parting was so affectionately cordial that Sala was astonished.

"I will soon make a visit to that beautiful castle of yours, of which my cousin appears so fond," said Frederic to the Count, as he was mounting on his horse.

"I thank your Majesty for the honor you will then favor me with," said the Count, bowing respectfully and dashing off, followed by his retinue.

Without a moment's loss of time, the Count of Champagne returned to his castle, and Nevers presented the Imperial despatch to the King.

The same evening Manasés and Champagne held a long and secret interview. The Emperor's letter had greatly embarrassed Louis, for Rinaldo had rather exaggerated Frederic's warlike language, so that it differed little from a formal declaration of war. The King paced uneasily in his room, cursing the Emperor, the Count of Champagne, and the obstinacy of the Pope. At last he seemed to have made up his mind, and sent for the Chancellor Manasés, Alexander's most bitter enemy.

"This is my opinion," said the latter, after a perusal of the communication; "if you continue to support Roland, war is inevitable; besides, I have learned from another source, that an alliance is about to be concluded between Frederic and the English King. We consequently are in danger of being attacked on both sides at once."

The King's anxiety increased.

"We have fulfilled the duties of a Christian," he said. "I have defended the Pope as far as I am able. No one can compel me to subject my kingdom to all the horrors of a merciless war."

The wily courtier expected this conclusion, and it was decided to send a message, couched in very emphatic language, to the Holy Father at Cluny.

The Chancellor recommended that it should be intrusted to a partisan of Alexander, and the Archbishop of Tarantasia was selected. It is probable that some other choice had been made by Manasés and the Count of Champagne; for when the prelate arrived at Court, on the next day, the Count announced boldly to the King that Peter neither would nor could bear the despatch.

"Have I then no longer a right to choose my own ambassadors?" asked Louis. "What have you against the Archbishop?"

"This holy man cannot suit you, Sire," he replied. "He will kiss Alexander's hand and will address him, with every mark of respect, a request which ought to be communicated as an order. The Pope will be under a false impression; he will refuse to come, and war will break out. Rather send a man in armor with a strong escort, that he may, if needs be, enforce the execution of your orders."

"Employ violence!" exclaimed the King.

"Why are you astonished, Sire? gentle measures have been tried without result, there is nothing left but compulsion."

"It would be an unheard of crime to drag the Chief of Christendom, against his will, before a tribunal composed exclusively of his enemies!" said Louis. "I will not permit it!"

"Very well; but in that case, the Count Henry of Troyes and Champagne will keep his oath."

"One moment, Count, for the love of God! Do not be so hasty, cried the terrified prince. I know your unfortunate oath, but you have scarcely reflected that it would be treason!"

"My oath is an oath even when pledged to an enemy; and yet, Sire, you would make me a perjurer and a felon? Either you will send a proper message to Alexander, or I will go over to the Emperor."

"Since your Majesty cannot resist the Count's arguments," interrupted Manasés, "would it not be well to intrust him with this mission? The situation is delicate; it is necessary not to render it still more dangerous."

After a moment's hesitation, the King consented.

"Go, in God's name," he said; "but I adjure you, on your conscience, respect the Pope, respect the Chief of Christendom."

CHAPTER XLII.

THE ABBEY OF CLUNY

The Abbey of Cluny belonged to the most illustrious of the religious orders, and controlled two thousand convents distributed throughout Christendom and Palestine. It was not only a pious sanctuary, but also a school, the renown of which extended beyond the seas. Unlike the monks of the other orders who were chiefly engaged in agriculture and field labors, the peaceful denizens of Cluny were entirely devoted to study and the pursuit of science, and attached a greater value to their manuscripts than to any material treasures. Many were constantly occupied in transcribing the works of the Fathers of the Church, and even those of the pagan writers of antiquity. The volumes intended for the church service were richly illuminated in order to be more worthy to appear upon the altar. The Church itself was enriched with pictures, sculpture, and works of art. The dormitories, the halls, and the refectory were filled with masterpieces, and resembled a vast museum destined to defend the fine arts against the ravages of time.

The cathedral, which was the largest in the world, was a marvel of Roman architecture, and everything in it so magnificent, that Saint Bernard could not resist expressing his discontent.

"What use is there of this amazing height, this immense width and endless length, of these sumptuous ornaments, which attract the gaze of the faithful, but distract their attention?" he wrote to Peter, the venerable Abbot of Cluny. "Why all these candelabras studded with precious stones, these costly paintings and works of art? Is it through honor to the Saints that you walk over their images and spit upon those of the Holy Angels? Why these sublime representations on a pavement which must be covered with dust?"

In the opinion of the austere monk of Citeaux, the study after the beautiful was far inferior to that of godliness, and he imagined that the former injured the latter. The most liberal hospitality was lavished in the abbey on all travellers of every rank; women only were excluded; and precise rules specified the manner of the reception of strangers according to their rank and quality. At different times Cluny had entertained Pope Innocent IV., twelve Cardinals, with their entire suite, two patriarchs, three Archbishops, and eleven Bishops, and the King of France, with his mother, brother, sister, and the whole court; the Emperor of Constantinople, the heirs-apparent to the crowns of Castile and Aragon, and several Dukes with their knights and retinues. Still the good monks continued to live in rigorous asceticism; and their liberality to others often reduced them to extremities of privation. They watched over the poor of the neighborhood, and each week the pious brothers sought out the sick and wretched, to administer succor and consolation. On one occasion, during a famine, the Abbot Odilon sold the church ornaments, even to a crown, which had been presented to the monastery by the Emperor Henry II., in order to relieve the wants of the suffering members of Jesus Christ.

Although hospitality was considered an obligation by all the cloisters of the Catholic world, Rechberg was surprised at the scale on which it was dispensed at Cluny; and the presence of the Pope increased the concourse of travellers. Each day came and went messengers to and from all parts of the world; and Erwin heard on all sides a perfect Babel of the most different tongues. Pilgrims were arriving from Greece and Spain, from Muscovy, England, and Arabia, to prostrate themselves before the Apostolic throne. The Roman Empire alone was not represented at Cluny, through fear of the powerful displeasure of the Emperor Barbarossa.

Rechberg admired the learning, the energy, and the grave dignity of the monks, and never before had he experienced so deeply the influence of Catholicity. The Pope appeared to him to be the heart of Christendom, uniting the two extremities; for Frederic's authority was as nothing compared with that of the Holy Father. When he contrasted the Emperor's creature, the false Pope Victor, with the venerable Pontiff, the Head of the Church, he smiled with pity and contempt.

"My godfather will be obliged to subdue the universe," he said to himself, "if he wishes to make the Holy Pope his vassal."

Erwin had resided in Cluny for about a fortnight; the novelty at first amused him, but Antonio's words constantly recurred to his memory, and although full of anxiety to ascertain their truth, a sentiment of duty retained him at the abbey; – he could not desert the unfortunate Clemence.

One day, upon leaving the princess, now more resigned and collected, since she had ascertained with what paternal interest she was looked upon by Alexander, Rechberg was met by the lay brother, a worthy man, who hitherto had done him the honors of the monastery.

"Are you already at liberty, brother Severinus?" asked the Count. "I scarcely thought it was yet time for vespers."

"The good fathers are about going to the choir, and we will take advantage of their absence; you would lose a great deal, Count, if you were to leave us without seeing the pictures in the refectory."

"I don't doubt it; let us go there now." As they were crossing the court-yard, where crowds of strangers were walking beneath the shade of the oak-trees, Rechberg suddenly perceived a man whose face appeared familiar; he had seen him at Castellamare where he had been pointed out by Hermengarde. It was Nigri's servant, Cocco Griffi, and our hero stood still, watching his movements and hoping for an opportunity to address him.

"There is no want of curiosities here," said brother Severinus, remarking his guest's astonishment, "for we have every variety of costume and language. Look at that Arab with his bright eyes and white teeth; he and the grave and haughty Castilian by his side are envoys from the King of Navarre." Just then Erwin lost sight of Cocco Griffi.

"Our painters often come here," resumed the monk, "to study faces and details of which I know nothing; I saw the other day in one of the artist's cells a representation of the devil, which was the living image of a Moor who had been here; – I will show it to you."

Rechberg had not been mistaken. Cocco Grim, in company with a monk, entered a two-storied house where persons of the middle class were lodged. The monk mounted on the steps to examine the red marks traced upon the wall, and then, turning towards Cocco, -

"It is here that Antonio lives," he said, "if you want him."

Griffi went in. The spy was waiting, and at first looked up as though not well satisfied with the interruption; but as soon as he recognized his visitor, he rose and went forward, cordially.

"Cocco! is that you? What good wind brings you here?"

"A miracle, my dear Antonio; when you know it you will be surprised, and, it may be, somewhat provoked."

"I will wager that your master has been doing something absurd; is not that the case?"

"Yes, you have guessed it. My master and the lady of Castellamare are on their way to Cluny; I was sent ahead to announce to you this masterpiece of diplomacy."

Antonio looked at Griffi with amazement, and then broke out, angrily.

"This is a beautiful piece of business, indeed! That ass never had any brains! He will spoil everything! The young girl will come here; she will meet the Count, and all my plans will be thwarted. What imprudence! I suppose he has told her that Rechberg is here with the Duchess, and that on his return he is to marry Richenza; is that it?

"Yes, all but the marriage."

"That's it; he concealed the only thing which he ought to have told."

"Oh, he talked of nothing but Erwin and Richenza, Richenza and Erwin."

"Well, what then?"

"Then! oh, Hermengarde asserted that she was under a vow to make a pilgrimage to Cluny, and that she would no longer delay it."

"The pretext was a good one,"

"Then my master offered to accompany the young person."

"And she refused?"

"Two or three times, but Pietro insisted. They will be here to-morrow at the latest, and my master promises to conduct the affair to your entire satisfaction. You may count upon his gratitude."

Antonio smiled as he heard the last words, for he knew that Pietro possessed immense wealth in Lombardy.

"The affair has miscarried," he said to himself, pacing the room. "But Hermengarde cannot lodge in the cloister; she must stay in the village, and as Cluny opens its gates but once a week to women, it will be a mere chance if she and Rechberg meet."

He turned towards Griffi. "Where are you living?" he asked. "Near the gate; one of the windows overlooks the street."

"Be on the lookout, and let me know as soon as they arrive."

CHAPTER XLIII.

IN THE CLOISTER

Meanwhile Rechberg had reached the gate of the cloister; it was opened at once, and, with his companion, he entered a small courtyard.

"It is too soon yet," said the porter, when the monk had informed him of the object of their visit; "but you can wait here."

They stepped forward towards a low wall, festooned with creepers, which shut off the garden, exclusively reserved for the brotherhood. Erwin could see and admire their grave and dignified deportment, and remarked their difference from the German monks, who were usually occupied in out-door pursuits; whereas at Cluny they passed their lives in the practice of interior virtues, and the advancement of science.

At this moment two lay brothers approached the wall, talking with an earnestness which indicated the importance of their subject. They spoke gravely and in measured tones, although Rechberg could not understand a single word of their conversation, he imagined that it was probably a discussion of some intricate problem of philosophy.

"What language is that?" he asked.

"Greek, Count," replied Severinus, in a low voice; "every known language is spoken in our community; Latin and Greek, and Arabic and Hebrew; they are perfectly familiar with all of them, and with more still. I like to hear them talk Hebrew, it is such a strange dialect, – so guttural, that it seems uttered rather by the throat than by the tongue. I doubt, whether the Franks could articulate a single syllable of it; but I think you will have a chance to judge for yourself during our walk. Ah! here come two of your artists! – The very ones of all whom I prefer, for they have heart and a soul; whereas some learned men have nothing but intellect Look, how they argue. Let us go a little nearer; I will wager that their discussion turns upon Homer, Pindar, Apollo, or Horace."

Erwin listened.

"You deny then all value to pagan sciences, brother Odilon?"

"By no means. I simply remarked that religious faith was the true domain of true science. The pagans had their own belief, and consequently their own school of art; but a Christian's art is as far superior to a pagan's as Christianity is to paganism."

"Do you think that our poetry is better than that of Horace?"

"Yes, inasmuch ours celebrates truth; his, only pagan errors. But, brother Colomban, in all that relates to style, the pagans are our masters, for Christian poetry is still in its infancy."

"We have admired together the statues lately received from Rome; do you think we are capable of doing anything as perfect?"

"We must make a distinction here," replied Odilon. "The pagans attained a rare perfection of form; but is the body the only, the real object of art? No; the sculptor must give a spirituality to his work! The most skilful pagan would never have been able to chisel out the pure image of the Holy Virgin."

"I think I understand your meaning," said Colomban.

"It is the same with poetry. The fountain head of all sublimity, the source of the beautiful is God; the nearer the poet approaches that, the more truly artistic he becomes, and, in proportion as his ideas diverge from the Divinity, so much farther is he from perfection."

The two monks disappeared at a turn of the path.

"Well, what think you? are not those men true lights of the faith?" asked Severinus. "They have great privileges, they can go to Rome and further, too, if they wish, and sometimes are excused from attendance in the choir."

At this moment the bell rang; all conversation was immediately suspended, and each monk took his place with a regularity which surprised the young German, who could almost fancy that he was looking at a well disciplined troop of soldiers, as they defiled before him in stately procession.

The solemn strains of the organ were heard, and the chants began.

"Now, let us make good use of our time," said Severinus, hurrying forward. "Let us see the refectory first; it is only a refectory, it is true, but its equal does not exist in France or Germany."

They entered the hall, near the door of which was a large crucifix artistically sculptured. At the upper end of the room was the Abbot's chair placed so as to overlook everything, and his table, to which the chief dignitaries of the monastery were often invited, stood upon a raised platform. Long oaken tables, with richly carved supports, were ranged methodically, and covered with a white cloth, at which, as Severinus assured the Count, more than four hundred guests could be seated; for Cluny counted at that time four hundred and eighty monks, many of whom lived as hermits in the neighboring forest.

On one side stood a single table covered with black cloth.

"The pulmenta defunctorum are served there," replied Severinus, to Rechberg's curiosity. "This, is the place of the pious Duke of Aquitain, the protector of our convent; that, is for his saintly wife Ingeburge."

And so he went on enumerating the eighteen places.

"But all those of whom you speak are dead," said Erwin. "What is the use of spreading a banquet every day, of which they cannot partake."

The monk looked at Erwin with astonishment.

"Do you not remember," he said, "that the Archangel Raphael assured the young Tobias, that it was better to give alms than to build up pyramids of gold and silver? It is for this that every day the deceased benefactors of Cluny feed the poor. Do you not believe that the blessings which they receive in Heaven are worth more than precious stones?" Rechberg was too fervent a Catholic to doubt of the correctness of this view of the subject; it was a praiseworthy and pious custom.

His attention was directed to the pictures on the walls; many of them, such as the hunt of Saint Eustace, and the fight between Saint George and the Dragon, he recognized at once; but there were others so strange in all their details, that he was obliged to ask for explanations.

On their way from the refectory to the artist's apartments, as they crossed a long gallery, Rechberg stopped before a bronze statue, which attracted his admiration.

"It is the image of our late Superior, Peter the Venerable," said Severinus, very respectfully. "It was cast about two years since, and those who knew him during his lifetime, affirm that the likeness is striking. We will have it made in silver one of these days, when our convent is richer."

The galleries were filled with statues of saints and holy men, in wood and stone; some of recent date, others of ancient workmanship; so that it would have been easy to trace, step by step, the progress of the art. But the Count was little versed in such matters, and what was more, he could not forget Cocco Griffi.

"My lord Count, you must visit the library, even if it is only for a moment," said the monk, opening the door. A score of desks were arranged in a half-circle around one of larger size, which Rechberg perceived, at once, was a masterpiece of sculpture. This work of art was ornamented with arabesques, and with flowers, birds, and animals of every description; upon it was a book in Greek characters.

"They write the books here," said Severinus; "the reader is seated at the upper desks, with the copyists in front and around him. You can judge for yourself, (and he offered the manuscripts to Rechberg,) if they know their business. And our fathers attend to everything! We have twenty copies of the Holy Scriptures. Nearly all the works of the early Fathers, and many of those written by pagan authors and priests are to be found in our library. Every year some of the order go through France and England, and even as far as Greece, in search of rare manuscripts, of which four copies are immediately made."

After leaving the cloister, and crossing a vacant yard, they came to a house with large windows. The rooms were filled with evidences of the sculptor's art; figures and images of all sorts were standing there on pedestals.

"Is not that a splendid angel's head?" said Severinus; "the features are so sweet and delicate, and the folds of the robe so natural! And that Holy Virgin! how beautiful and gracious she appears! I do not think it possible to give more life to a work of stone."

But Rechberg was thinking of something else, and sympathized very little with the artistic enthusiasm of his companion.

"It is a pity that we cannot go in," said Severinus, pointing to a placard on which was written, Porta clausa. "The door is closed and the painter is at work; but it is a great loss, Count."

"I cannot see everything in one day," replied Erwin, who was delighted.

"You would be obliged to stay at Cluny for months if you would do justice to everything. The church alone, with all its pictures, and portraits, and mosaics, would require a long examination."

"Whose dwelling is this?" asked Erwin, as they passed before a handsome house.

"The Holy Father lives there. May God protect him! His enemies give him no rest. He was forced to fly from Italy, and with difficulty can obtain an asylum in France."

"With difficulty? Are the French, partisans of Pope Victor?"

"God preserve us from it!" said Severinus; "but we fear the fierce Barbarossa, who has taken it into his head that Victor must be Pope, whether or no!"

Erwin smiled at the dread which his godfather inspired,

"This Barbarossa is a cruel man, and they tell dreadful stories about him," continued the monk. "It appears that he wants to be Pope and Emperor at the same time, and this desire is unchristian. He is now on the frontier with a mighty army, in order to force the king of France to give up the Pope. Woe to us if this merciless sovereign comes here! He will destroy our convent as he destroyed Milan."

"You have too bad an idea of the Emperor," said Rechberg; "why should he cherish evil designs against your abbey? Is it because you show hospitality to Alexander? I assure you that the Emperor is too chivalrous to inflict a punishment for the accomplishment of a duty."

He spoke so warmly that Severinus almost regretted his frankness.

"I have never yet seen the Pope," continued Erwin. "Do you think it possible?"

"It is difficult," was the reply. "The Holy Father takes but a few moments' repose each day, when he comes to this garden. From morning till night he works or receives visits and ambassadors or letters from every part of the world. We are often compelled to refuse admittance to persons of distinction."

As they reached the door which led to the enclosure reserved to the brotherhood. Severinus drew a key from his girdle and took leave of Erwin, who thanked him warmly, regretting that he would accept of no gratuity for his trouble.

"Do not insist, Count," he said; "gold or silver would be useless to me. The best reward for a monk is that which results from a consciousness that he has done his duty."

Rechberg immediately proceeded to look for Antonio, for Cocco Griffi's face had haunted him ever since they had met, and he began to imagine that there must be some connection between Pietro's servant and the fears which he entertained about the fate of Hermengarde.