So Salimbene passes on, both in his Chronicle and in his journey, but though his steps lead deviously through the cities of Provence, they bring him back once more to Hyères and Hugo, at whose feet he sits and listens for a season in rapt admiration.
After this happy season, Salimbene returned to Genoa, and from that time on spent his life among the Franciscan brotherhoods of Italy. Henceforth his Chronicle is chiefly occupied with those wretched unceasing wars of northern Italy, Imperialists against Papists, and city against city—and with the affairs of the Franciscan Order. The story is now less varied, yet not lacking in picturesque qualities; and through it all we still see the man himself, although the man, as life goes on, seems to become more of a Franciscan monk, and less of an observer of human life. But he continues naïve. Thus he tells that one time, with some companions, he came to Bobbio, that famous book-lovers’ foundation of St. Columban, in the mountains north of Genoa: “and there we saw one of those water-pots of the Lord, in which the Lord made wine from water at the marriage at Cana, for it is said to be one of those: whether it is, God knows, to whom all things are known and open and naked.”
And again, some one brings him news of the state of France in the year 1251, when King Louis was a captive in Africa;[647] and thus he tells it:
“In this year a countless crowd of shepherds came together in France, saying that they would cross the sea to kill the Saracens and free the King of France. Many followed from divers cities of France, and no one dared stop them. For their leader said it was revealed to him of God that he must lead that multitude across the sea to avenge the King of France. The common folk believed him, and were enraged against the religious, especially the Preachers, because they had preached the Crusade and had ‘crossed’ men who were sailing with the king. And the people were angry at Christ, so that they dared blaspheme His blessed name. And when the Minorites and Preachers came seeking alms in His name, they gnashed their teeth at them and in their sight turned and gave the sou to some other beggar, saying, ‘Take this in Mahomet’s name, who is stronger than Christ.’”[648]
Of those Italian wars—rather feuds, vengeances, and monstrosities of hate—Salimbene can tell enough. He gives a ghastly picture of the fate of Alberic da Romano, brother of Eccelino, and tyrant indeed of Treviso.
“There he lorded it for many years; and cruel and hard was his rule, as those know who experienced it. He was a limb of the devil and a son of iniquity, but he perished by an evil death with his wife and sons and daughters. For those who slew them tore off the legs and arms from their living bodies, in their parents’ sight, and with them struck the parents’ faces. Then they bound the wife and daughters to stakes, and burned them; they were noble, beautiful virgins, nor in any way in fault. But their innocence and beauty did not save them, because of the hatred for the father and mother. Terribly had these afflicted the people of Treviso. So they came upon Alberic with tongs and ——”—
the sentence is too horrid for translation. But the chronicler goes on to tell that they destroyed his body amid gibes and insults and torments.
“For he had killed a blood-relative of this one, and that one’s father, son or daughter. And he had laid such taxes and exactions on them, that they had to destroy their houses. The very walls and beams and chests and cupboards and wine-vats they put in boats and sent to Ferrara to sell them and redeem themselves. I saw those with my eyes. Alberic pretended to be at war with his brother Eccelino, so as to do his evil deeds more safely; and he did not hold his hand from the slaughter of citizens and subjects. One day he hanged twenty-five prominent men of Treviso, who had done him no ill; because he feared they would! And thirty noble women, mothers, wives and daughters of these, were brought there to see them hanging; and he had these women stripped half naked, that those who were hanging might see them so. The men were hanged quite close to the ground; and he forced these women to go so close that their faces were struck by the legs and feet of those who were dying in anguish.”[649]
Such was the kind of devil-madness that might walk abroad in Italy in the Middle Ages. Let us relieve our minds by a story our friend tells of a certain boy placed in a Franciscan convent in Bologna, to become a monk.
“When asleep he snored so mightily, that no one could have peace in the same house with him, so horribly did he disturb those who slept as well as those who were at their vigils. And they made him sleep in the shed where wood and staves were stored, but even then the brothers could not escape, so did that voice of malediction resound through the whole place. And all the priests and wiseacres among the brothers met in the director’s chamber, to eject him from the Order because of his insupportable offence: I was there. It was decided to return him to his mother, who had deceived the Order, since she had known his defect before letting him go. But he was not returned to his mother, for the Lord performed a miracle through Brother Nicolas [650]