forced to take refuge with all his followers during the heat of summer, was the real cause of his death. But a few weeks before his decease Gregory wrote these words : Do not permit yourselves, ye faithful, to be cast down by the unfavourable appearances of the present moment; be neither depressed by misfortune, nor elated by prosperity; put your trust in God, and endure his trials with patience: the bark of Peter is for a time tossed by tempests and dashed against breakers; but soon it emerges unexpectedly from the foaming billows, and sails uninjured over the glassy surface.' The new pope, Celestine IV., elected under the terror of Frederick's successful arms, died sixteen days after his election: the cardinals, who had suffered every kind of privation, and dreaded the poisonous air of Rome, had taken the opportunity of flight, and nearly two years elapsed before the chair of St. Peter was filled again. Frederick himself was at length obliged to urge on the election. He was still under the ban of excommunication; none but a pope could cancel the anathema of a pope. Whatever advantages he may have derived from the want of a head to the opposite faction-whether, as M. von Raumer debates the question, he may have entertained some design of changing the constitution of the church from a papal monarchy into an aristocracy of the cardinals-the general voice of Christendom demanded, in language which could not be misunderstood and might not be opposed, the election of a new spiritual sovereign. The choice fell on a cardinal, once closely connected with the interests, and supposed to be attached to the person, of Frederick-Sinibald Fiesco, of the Genoese house of Lavagna. He assumed the name of Innocent IV.—a fatal omen that he in tended to tread in the steps of Innocent III. Frederick was congratulated on the accession of his declared partisan; he coldly and prophetically answered, I fear that in the cardinal I have lost a good friend, and in the pope shall find my worst enemy. No No pope can be a Ghibelline.' Negotiations commenced, but in vain. The pope demanded the liberation of the ecclesiastics of the opposite faction, whom Frederick had captured in an encounter by sea; and on all other points his tone was as high and as uncompromising as at the height of the papal power. Frederick, who was now at the summit of his glory-his fame untarnished by discomfiture-Italy prostrate at his feet-his hereditary dominions attached to him by love, the empire by respect and awe (for his rebellious son was by this time dead)-on his part demanded in the first place the repeal of the interdict. But the star of the Hohenstaufen had reached its height; it began to decline, to darken-and 2 A 2 its its fall was as rapid and precipitate as its rise had been slow and stately. The first sign of evil omen was the defection of Viterbo to the Guelphic party. Frederick was so enraged at the insulting behaviour of the insurgents that he declared, that if he had one foot in Paradise he would turn back to revenge himself on the Viterbans, for their ill-usage of his partisans and the razing of their houses.' But the obstinate and successful resistance of the rebellious town broke the charm by which victory seemed bound to his banners-city after city revolted; and the fatal intelligence arrived, that the pope, who, as long as he was environed by the imperial armies, was obliged to maintain at least some appearance of pacific intentions, had burst his toils and reached the shores of France. The Council of Lyons was speedily summoned; all the old charges against the emperor were renewed and aggravated -he was again, notwithstanding the bold and eloquent defence of his representative, Thaddeus of Suessa, excommunicated, deposed, and his subjects absolved from their allegiance. The solemn ceremonial of the interdict has been often described; never was it uttered against so noble a victim-never followed with more awful consequences: • When Innocent, without full investigation, without putting it to the vote, without any apparent participation of the Council of the Church, uttered so severe a sentence against the Emperor, the majority of the assembly were panic-struck; above all, the imperial ambassadors uttered their lamentations, beat their heads and their breasts in sorrow; and Thaddeus of Suessa cried aloud—“ This is a day of wrath, of tribulation, and of anguish!-Now will the heretics rejoice, the Charismians prevail, the race of the Moguls urge their irruptions!" "I have done my part," answered the Pope; "God must do the rest, and guide according to his will." Thereupon he began the "We magnify thee, O Lord God,"—and all his partisans lifted up their voices with him. At the end of the hymn followed a deep silence; then Innocent and the prelates held down their burning torches to the ground till they were extinguished," So be the glory and the fortune of the emperor extinguished upon earth!""" The spell of the magician began to work: everywhere was revolt, insurrection, mistrust, defeat, shame, sorrow. Germany elected a new king of the Romans: from one end of Lombardy to the other, the Guelphic faction predominated; the barons of Apulia rose in rebellion-the severest measures were necessary to repress the intrigues of the monks in Sicily itself the Franciscans and Dominicans were banished the realm-the clergy heavily taxed, and forced, as far as the emperor's power could reach, to perform the services of the church in defiance of the papal interdict. At the fatal battle of Fossalta, his favourite natural son, Enzius, was taken prisoner; and his heart was still more deeply wounded by a solemn vow of the Bolognese never to release the prisoner-a vow which they sternly maintained, notwithstanding the menaces and the most prodigal offers of ransom made by the disconsolate father. According to Sismondi, the loss of liberty was afterwards mitigated as far as possible by the attention and respect shown to their captive by the Bolognese nobility; according to M. von Raumer, it was aggravated by many petty vexations. We regret that we have not room for his romantic account of the attempt of Enzius to escape, after twenty years of captivity, when he contrived to conceal himself in a cask, but was betrayed by a lock of hair, too beautiful to belong to any one else but the royal prisoner. Only six years had elapsed since the flight of Innocent-and the gay and splendid monarch, who at the age of twenty-one had won the imperial crown, and worn it with greater dignity than any former sovereign; the crusader who had recovered the kingdom of Jerusalem by an honourable treaty; the master, but now, of the whole of Italy, whose fortunes had for so long defied even the papal anathema-Frederick II.-lay expiring in the castle of Fiorentino, near Luceria, leaving to his son no more than the crown of Naples, and that endangered by the hostility of the pope. Sorrows even heavier than approaching death loaded the mind of the failing monarch. His favourite son lay pining in hopeless imprisonment. Of his most faithful followers, one, the bold Thaddeus of Suessa, who had maintained his cause with such intrepidity before the council of Lyons, had been cut off by a barbarous death. He had been taken prisoner by the insurgents of Parma. When captured, he was almost expiring from loss of blood; the Parmesans, considering him the adviser of the severe measures which had been put in force against their city, literally hewed him in pieces. The other, Peter of Vinea, his brother poet, who had shared his festive enjoyments in Palermo and Naples-to whose judicial integrity and consummate statesmanship he had intrusted his most secret affairs-his confidential counsellor in all his exigencies in the touching language of Scripture, his dear familiar friend'-had, it seems, taken counsel against him. Much obscurity still hangs over the fate of Peter de Vinea. M. von Raumer does not entirely disbélieve that circumstantial narrative of Matthew Paris, which has been rejected by many writers. According to this account, while Frederick lay ill, the confidential physician of Peter had prescribed for him, and prepared his medicine. The Emperor, who had received a private warning, said, 566 My friend, I put my full trustin you. But take care, I entreat you, that poison is not administered to me instead of physic." Peter answered," Sire, how often has my physician prepared for you whole some some medicine! why are you now afraid?" Frederick, with a darkening brow, said to the physician, Drink thou half of it, and give me the rest.' The physician, conscious of his guilt, pretended to stumble, and spilled the draught. A little remained in the cup, but that little caused death in some malefactors who were forced to drink it. • When the treason appeared so manifest to the emperor, he was seized with inconceivable and inconsolable anguish of mind; it was heartrending to see one of such lofty rank on earth, so far advanced in age, and till this time unshaken by calamity, bitterly weeping and wringing his hands, and crying,-" Woe is me! when my nearest friends are thus incensed against me, whom can I trust? Where can I now be secure how can I ever again be happy ?"' Peter, however, either conscious of the enormous guilt, or desperate because he had no means of proving his innocence, ran, as he was led to prison, with his head against the wall, and died. M. von Raumer thinks, that this story may be true, yet that only the physician, not Peter de Vinea, might be guilty of the design to poison. He is not, however, inclined altogether to acquit the chancellor of tampering in the papal intrigues. It is fair, perhaps, at least it is a temptation we cannot resist, to quote the exculpation of Dante, whom the injured spirit intreats to rescue his memory from disgrace: Comforti la memoria mia, che giace Ancor del colpo, che' invidia le diede.' The following is the language attributed by the Ghibelline poet to Peter de Vinea : I' son colui, che tenni ambo le chiavi Che dal segreto suo quasi ogni uom tolsi; Tanto ch'i' ne perde le vene è polsi: Di Cesare non torse gli occhi putti, Vi giuro, che giammai non ruppi fede As As Mr. Cary's version of the passage appears particularly happy, we subjoin it. 'I it was who held Both keys to Frederick's heart, and turn'd the wards, By the new roots, which fix this stem, I swear Who merited such honour.' 6 Frederick did not long survive. On the 7th of December, 1250, the great antagonist of the papacy died, at the age of fifty-six. He confessed his sins, and received absolution from the archbishop of Palermo. His remains were buried in that city which he had embellished so long with his court; and on the opening of the royal cemetery in 1783, his body was found in perfect preservation, and in imperial attire. Thus, after above five centuries, were two of the calumnies relating to his death refuted, that his body had rotted while he was alive, and that he had, dying, put on the weeds' of the Cistercian order. We share in M. von Raumur's indignation, that the remains of this extraordinary man were not treated with respect-two other bodies were thrown into his coffin. Those who would wish to obtain a just opinion of Frederick, in those parts of his distinguished character which we have been unable to notice, particularly as a legislator, a patron of learning, and founder of universities, will do well to consult the volumes of M. von Raumer. We hasten to the last scene of our tragic drama. At the age of twenty-five died Conrad, the son of Frederick, leaving only the illfated Conradin, with no aid, save in the valour and ability of Manfred, the natural son of the emperor, to protect the throne of Naples against the inexorable hostility of the pope. The usurpation of the throne by this very Manfred-the crusade excited against him by the pope-the avarice of Charles VIII.—the fatal battle near Benevento, in which Manfred lost his kingdom and |