CHAPTER XIV "O thou voice within my breast! LONGFELLOW. IN Italy there was one who, had she known of the straits to which her relative was reduced, would with generous and forgiving spirit have come to his aid. As the Great Countess had given a home to Conrad, the exiled heir to the German throne, so now her womanly sympathy would prompt her to offer a hospitable asylum to his father, who, by a strange retribution, had also been deprived of his crown. However unwilling the Tuscans would be to have in their midst the monarch who had caused them so much tribulation, for Matilda's sake they would pay to him that deference due to the rank of the humbled sovereign. She "whose whole life was one unvaried example of virtue, justice, benevolence and truth," by her well-earned influence with the Holy See, would have procured for him the solace of reconciliation with the Church, and the consolations of religion in his dying hours. Banished from the hollow pomps and vanities of Court life, his heart might even yet respond to his cousin's kindly administrations, and his painful history thus have had a happier ending. Matilda, however, was in ignorance of the extent of Henry's misfortunes, for although flying reports had reached her of his deposition, she could scarcely give credit to the wild rumours which were spread broadcast with regard to her unfortunate kinsman. In Germany, also, there yet remained a firm and faithful Matilda, Countess of Tuscany friend, of whom mention has not yet been made in this memoir, who, had he been aware of the King's poverty, would gladly have relieved him-one who had endeavoured by his counsels and warnings to restrain the sacrilegious hands which seized upon the Church's revenues. "When the seals and crosses of the deceased prelates and Abbots were delivered to the King, and by him sold to the highest bidder, this fearless monitor, himself above bribes, not only refused to sanction such proceedings, but openly denounced the sin of which the monarch was guilty." This was Otho, his Chancellor, who for years had stood by Henry's side and "laboured to bring his prince to sentiments of repentance and submission." In Otho, who was afterwards canonised, the King admired those virtues in which he himself was singularly deficient. "Resolved to make choice at least of one good Bishop," he nominated the Chancellor to the See of Bamburg in 1103. The offer, however, was not accepted by the prelate-elect until he had journeyed to Rome to have his consecration ratified and to receive the insignia of his office at the hands of Pope Pascal II. "Such is the power of meekness in disarming the fierce tyrant," continues the historian, "that Henry's successor to the throne and to his antagonism to the reigning Pontiffs also inherited his esteem for the good old Bishop who so fearlessly adhered to the Holy See." 1 The dethroned monarch, abandoned by his nobles and courtiers, appears to have retired to Flanders, where, according to report, he spent his time "in intriguing against the Pope, and in scheming plans by which to regain his throne." He died at length in poverty at Liège, at the age of fifty-six, with no friendly voice to soothe his passage to the grave, and unfortified by the consolations of his religion. His last act was a magnanimous one, and his last words 1 Alban Butler. were those of forgiveness to his son, "to whom he sent the sword and ring, which even in his days of direst poverty he still retained as a token of his love." No royal ceremonies were observed at his obsequies, nor did his unfilial child make even an outward show of sorrow and regret by attending the funeral of the parent he had dethroned. He was buried in a stone coffin in unconsecrated ground and without the rites of the Church from which he had separated himself by an impenetrable wall of pride and self-will. At the time of his death (7th August 1106) Henry had reigned nearly fifty years, thirty of which had been spent in conflict with Rome and Tuscany, struggles in which both the Church and Matilda remained masters of the field. Thus passed away the scion of a noble race of warriors, and the unworthy descendant of Charlemagne. Thus was laid low, by his own perfidy, a head which, but for his insensate folly, would have worn the imperial diadem. Let charity cast a veil over the closing scenes of a life replete with the faults peculiar to his nature, but which a judicious education might have checked if not entirely eradicated. "His virtues, which were few," says his biographer, "were his own, and his failings, which were many, were the result of his early training and belonged to the age in which he lived." Let us remember only the bravery and tenacity of purpose which he displayed in his campaigns, qualities which in a more civilised century might have made him one of the ablest monarchs of his race and a leader worthy of respect. Henry's was a contradictory character, and throughout his life he exemplified the force of his favourite saying: "Men have much and varied knowledge, but no one is thoroughly acquainted with himself." This axiom was proved by the courageous yet servile King, who though always disputing the authority of the Church never denied her tenets. "He believed, but lived as if he believed not, or as if he believed in a Gospel contrary to her teaching." From the little that was known of the proud and wilful character of Henry's successor, it was feared that he would adopt the same line of offensive policy towards the Holy See. From a son who deposed and imprisoned his own father the Church could not hope for filial reverence, and subsequent events proved that the Vicar of Christ was not wrong in his anticipations of evil. No sooner was the breath out of Henry's body than the prince, aware that his right to the throne was now incontestable, dispatched an embassy to the Pope, apprising him of his accession and demanding to be crowned Emperor at an early date. "I promise," writes the newly-made King, "to obey the Church as a Mother and the Pontiff as a well-beloved Father." These sentiments of piety and obedience would have been gladly hailed by Pascal had they proceeded from any other source. "But expressed at such a time, and following so quickly upon their author's cruel treatment of his father, they did not bear the impress of truth." All good feeling, however, was not dead within the breast of the young monarch. In his heart there beat a chivalrous respect for the character of the "Great Countess," which determined him to seek and secure her friendship. The envoys to the Pontiff, therefore, had instructions to stop at Canossa on their way to Rome. They were the trusted bearers of a special message to the princess, assuring her of their King's pacific intentions towards herself, and promising in his name to regard her marquisate as the territory of a friend and ally. While Henry was being sent forth into the world a solitary wanderer, deprived of his crown by the child of his affections, Matilda, happy amongst her people, " obeyed with respect and served with love," was making plans to secure the independence of her country. The downfall of her cousin, who with all his faults had been so dear to her mother, was a matter of no small grief to her. His death, so far from being considered as a relief, was, under the dis tressing circumstances in which it had taken place, a source of unfeigned sorrow to her pious heart. She trembled lest the prince who had commenced his reign by an act of rebellion should be driven by severity to follow the same path of blind self-will. Henry was now about the age his father had been when he first resisted the authority of the Church, and Matilda feared lest the anathema pronounced upon the father should descend upon the son. For his mother's sake, and in memory of the ill-fated Conrad, she yearned to be good friends with her young kinsman. While the ambassadors from Germany were on their way to Canossa, Pascal had already arrived at the castle, he having come thither on a short visit to the Countess; this was Matilda's opportunity to speak of the matter which lay so near her heart. As once before she had knelt to implore Gregory's forgiveness for the late King, so now again she bent her proud knee to Pascal, to beg that the sins of the father might not be visited upon the son. She prayed the Pontiff to look with lenient eye upon the errors of the youthful monarch, and to trust to time and experience to subdue the waywardness which had led to the ruin of his sire. Acting on the advice which she thus proffered in the form of a plea, Pascal not only promised to take no immediate action, but even in time to confer on him the imperial title, which Matilda prayed that he might merit. Like his predecessors, the Pope recognised the value of such a faithful adherent as the Countess. Like them, too, he placed unlimited reliance upon the stability of her opinions, and "referred to her in all questions affecting the civil government." His consultation with her prepared him to consider favourably Henry's impending claim to the imperial crown, and he assured her that on his return to Rome he would communicate with the King on the subject. The ambassadors from Germany arrived, however, ere he had left Canossa, and were enabled to present to him the credentials with which they were charged. They were agreeably sur |