Chapter LI · THE TRIBUNE.

Whilst the deputies of the Lombard cities were travelling through the province and working at the organization of the league, Frederic and his army were encamped before the walls of Rome. Informed of the storm which threatened from the North, he would have raised the siege and marched at once against the rebels, but Dassel dissuaded him. It was first necessary, the statesman urged, to expel Alexander from Rome, and place Pascal upon the throne of Saint Peter.

Henry the Lion, the Duke of Austria, and nearly all the princes of note had refused to send their contingents against Rome, and remained quietly in their homes, for they had begun to foresee the designs of the Emperor.

The German and Italian bishops, however, eagerly took part in the siege, and, clothed in armor, prepared to use the sword and lance to overthrow the successor of St. Peter. For the monarch had at last humbled the pride of the prelates, who, for the most part, were his mere tools, whose consciences were fettered with golden shackles. Rich and powerful, their ambition urged them to further the projects of the Emperor, which in abasing the Papacy lessened the power of the temporal princes.

Frederic's army was numerous, brave, and accustomed to victory. A division commanded by the Archbishop of Mayence and Cologne, had already achieved some successes, but Rome still held out, and her fall seemed yet uncertain. Everything presaged a long struggle, much to the dissatisfaction of the Emperor, who had just learned the increasing development 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 his Chancellor; "the Lombards are rising en masse; they have decapitated or hung my lieutenants, and are working diligently upon the fortifications of Milan, whilst we stand here idle. It is a mistake, an evident 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 try only to wound his foot," said he. "Rome is the heart; Alexander is the life of the confederation. Let Alexander fall, the rest must die of necessity."

"Your arguments are good, but mere argument will not harm a hair of Roland's head."

"Every precaution has been taken against contingencies," continued Dassel, without replying to the Emperor's observation. "The Pisan fleet guards the mouth of the Tiber, our Brabançon troops scour the country; in short, Roland's escape is impossible."

"It is most probable that he will not put your precautions to the test."

"Within three days at the latest, my Emperor and Lord will hear in the Church of St. Peter the solemn mass which I myself will celebrate as a thanksgiving," said Dassel, calmly.

Frederic gazed at him in astonishment.

"My captains watch most diligently," resumed the statesman, "and Roland would need wings to get away again! If I had a hundred more gold pieces to spend, perhaps the worthy Romans would open their gates to us to-morrow. My promises, too, have a good deal of weight: abolition of all taxes, re-establishment of the Senate, privilege of electing the Pope!"

"Ah! you have promised all that?" said Frederic.

"Certainly! but when you are in the city, you can only keep as many promises 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 so easily 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. "All that remains of their ancient glory is an overweening pride, which I mean 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 that it was impossible to understand their meaning.

A marble column stood in the centre of the square, but in place of the image of the Holy Virgin, which it usually supported, it now served as a pedestal for the tailor Guerrazzi, while the sacred statue was laid upon the ground beside it, and a dense crowd pressed forward to listen to the excited orator. The tailor laughed and wept alternately, waved his hands, beat his breast, and tore his hair, while his voice assumed, by turns, an expression of menace or of flattery, as the occasion required. Guerrazzi was a paid agent of the Chancellor, and it was his pockets which received the gold pieces of which the latter had spoken, and which were to be distributed among the conspirators. The Romans were sharing the common lot of all those nations who are mad enough to suppose that schemers have any other object in view than self-interest; they were deceived and sold by the very men whom they considered to be their most devoted champions.

The orator pointed proudly towards a circular tower, which stood in front of him, commanding the square, with which it communicated by a bridge and a wide street. This building, whose lofty walls overlooked the whole city, was the mausoleum of Adrian, afterwards called the castle of Saint Angelo, and at present the Pope's last refuge.

"Look there!" cried the tailor, who was trying to flatter the national pride of his audience by recalling the mighty deeds of their ancestors; "look there at Adrian's mausoleum! there stands a memento of Roman grandeur. How magnificent it still is! I see before me the sons of the Gracchi, of the Scipios, of Brutus, the descendants of the masters of the world. But what are we to-day? We are mere pigmies in comparison with our progenitors. Ah!" said he, weeping, "there was a time when Rome dictated laws to the world, and all nations paid tribute to her majesty. Then our Senate, like a council of gods, sat in the Capitol!--And now?--But who has robbed us of this greatness? Who governs the universe after despoiling the Roman people of its power?--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 the successors of that Saint Peter who thrice denied his master; but many of them seem to take as their model the thief, the traitor Judas!--Consequently, all the Popes are great men, but"--(here he paused and pointed to the castle)--"all the Popes are not saints!"

Again the mob applauded, but the wily orator, seeing at once that he trod on dangerous ground, made a skilful diversion.

"No one will dispute the fact that our Holy Father Alexander is one of the greatest of the Popes!" and his voice rang out loudly, as though to prevent all denial. "But although Alexander is a great and holy personage, will he restore to the Romans those privileges of which they have been deprived? No, fellow-citizens, he will not, because he cannot! He swore to hand down the spoils intact upon the day that he assumed the triple crown. But be comforted, fellow-citizens; we have a powerful protector, and that protector is the Emperor! Yes, the Emperor will bring back to Rome her pristine splendor; he will give her once more all that was hers, for he glories in being the defender of right and justice! Again you will have a Senate seated in the Capitol, for the power of priestcraft has had its day. Your ancestors had the right to elect the Pope; this right will again be restored to you. And do you know why Barbarossa refuses to acknowledge Alexander? Solely because he was 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; you can choose for Pope whom you please. Such is the Emperor's will." The orator was fast gaining his point, for if the Romans no longer possessed the energy of their ancestors, at least they had their pride.

"Rome will again reign supreme; all her liberties, all her privileges will be restored, and she will once more rule the world as before the usurpation of the Popes. The Emperor has promised it, and Barbarossa keeps his word. But, you will ask, what does he require in exchange? Nothing, nothing except to receive from your hands the dignity of Roman patrician, nothing but the privilege of nominating the Pope of your own choice! Will you accept the hand stretched out to you by the noble Emperor, or will you close your gates against the defender of your liberties?"

"Long live the Emperor! Long live Barbarossa!" was shouted on all sides.

"Long live Frederic and the Rome of Augustus!" And the cries of the populace 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 thy people!

"Romans," he added, with increasing energy, "to your work without delay, every moment is of value: Elect your tribunes, send them immediately to the Emperor; tell him that you confer on him the title of Roman patrician, and that you wish to choose a Pope who will defend your rights and liberties!"

Guerrazzi descended from the rostrum, and the election of the tribunes began.