CHAPTER XI.

THE EMPERORS IN ITALY: FREDERICK BARBAROSSA.

[Sidenote: Frederick of Hohenstaufen, 1152-1189.]

The reign of Frederick the First, better known under his Italian

surname Barbarossa, is the most brilliant in the annals of the Empire.

Its territory had been wider under Charles, its strength perhaps

greater under Henry the Third, but it never appeared in such pervading

vivid activity, never shone with such lustre of chivalry, as under the

prince whom his countrymen have taken to be one of their national

heroes, and who is still, as the half-mythic type of Teutonic

character, honoured by picture and statue, in song and in legend,

through the breadth of the German lands. The reverential fondness of

his annalists and the whole tenour of his life go far to justify this

admiration, and dispose us to believe that nobler motives were joined

with personal ambition in urging him to assert so haughtily and carry

out so harshly those imperial rights in which he had such unbounded

confidence. Under his guidance the Transalpine power made its greatest

effort to subdue the two antagonists which then threatened and were

fated in the end to destroy it--Italian nationality and the Papacy.

[Sidenote: His relations to the Popedom.]

Even before Gregory VII's time it might have been predicted that two

such potentates as the Emperor and the Pope, closely bound together,

yet each with pretensions wide and undefined, must ere long come into

collision. The boldness of that great pontiff in enforcing, the

unflinching firmness of his successors in maintaining, the supremacy

of clerical authority, inspired their supporters with a zeal and

courage which more than compensated the advantages of the Emperor in

defending rights he had long enjoyed. On both sides the hatred was

soon very bitter. But even had men's passions permitted a

reconciliation, it would have been found difficult to bring into

harmony adverse principles, each irresistible, mutually destructive.

As the spiritual power, in itself purer, since exercised over the soul

and directed to the highest of all ends, eternal felicity, was

entitled to the obedience of all, laymen as well as clergy; so the

spiritual person, to whom, according to the view then universally

accepted, there had been imparted by ordination a mysterious sanctity,

could not without sin be subject to the lay magistrate, be installed

by him in office, be judged in his court, and render to him any

compulsory service. Yet it was no less true that civil government was

indispensable to the peace and advancement of society; and while it

continued to subsist, another jurisdiction could not be suffered to

interfere with its workings, nor one-half of the people be altogether

removed from its control. Thus the Emperor and the Pope were forced

into hostility as champions of opposite systems, however fully each

might admit the strength of his adversary's position, however bitterly

he might bewail the violence of his own partisans. There had also

arisen other causes of quarrel, less respectable but not less

dangerous. The pontiff demanded and the monarch refused the lands

which the Countess Matilda of Tuscany had bequeathed to the Holy See;

Frederick claiming them as feudal suzerain, the Pope eager by their

means to carry out those schemes of temporal dominion which

Constantine's donation sanctioned, and Lothar's seeming renunciation

of the sovereignty of Rome had done much to encourage. As feudal

superior of the Norman kings of Naples and Sicily, as protector of the

towns and barons of North Italy who feared the German yoke, the

successor of Peter wore already the air of an independent potentate.

[Sidenote: Contest with Hadrian IV.]

No man was less likely than Frederick to submit to these

encroachments. He was a sort of imperialist Hildebrand, strenuously

proclaiming the immediate dependence of his office on God's gift, and

holding it every whit as sacred as his rival's. On his first journey

to Rome, he refused to hold the Pope's stirrup[181], as Lothar had

done, till Pope Hadrian the Fourth's threat that he would withhold the

crown enforced compliance. Complaints arising not long after on some

other ground, the Pope exhorted Frederick by letter to shew himself

worthy of the kindness of his mother the Roman Church, who had given

him the imperial crown, and would confer on him, if dutiful, benefits

still greater. This word benefits--_beneficia_--understood in its

usual legal sense of 'fief,' and taken in connection with the picture

which had been set up at Rome to commemorate Lothar's homage, provoked

angry shouts from the nobles assembled in diet at Besançon; and when

the legate answered, 'From whom, then, if not from our Lord the Pope,

does your king hold the Empire?' his life was not safe from their

fury. On this occasion Frederick's vigour and the remonstrances of the

Transalpine prelates obliged Hadrian to explain away the obnoxious

word, and remove the picture. Soon after the quarrel was renewed by

other causes, and came to centre itself round the Pope's demand that

Rome should be left entirely to his government. Frederick, in reply,

appeals to the civil law, and closes with the words, 'Since by the

ordination of God I both am called and am Emperor of the Romans, in

nothing but name shall I appear to be ruler if the control of the

Roman city be wrested from my hands.' That such a claim should need

assertion marks the change since Henry III; how much more that it

could not be enforced. Hadrian's tone rises into defiance; he mingles

the threat of excommunication with references to the time when the

Germans had not yet the Empire. 'What were the Franks till Zacharias

welcomed Pipin? What is the Teutonic king now till consecrated at Rome

by holy hands? The chair of Peter has given, and can withdraw its

gifts.'

[Sidenote: With Pope Alexander III.]

The schism that followed Hadrian's death produced a second and more

momentous conflict. Frederick, as head of Christendom, proposed to

summon the bishops of Europe to a general council, over which he

should preside, like Justinian or Heraclius. Quoting the favourite

text of the two swords, 'On earth,' he continues, 'God has placed no

more than two powers: above there is but one God, so here one Pope and

one Emperor. The Divine Providence has specially appointed the Roman

Empire as a remedy against continued schism[182].' The plan failed;

and Frederick adopted the candidate whom his own faction had chosen,

while the rival claimant, Alexander III, appealed, with a confidence

which the issue justified, to the support of sound churchmen

throughout Europe. The keen and long doubtful strife of twenty years

that followed, while apparently a dispute between rival Popes, was in

substance an effort by the secular monarch to recover his command of

the priesthood; not less truly so than that contemporaneous conflict

of the English Henry II and St. Thomas of Canterbury, with which it

was constantly involved. Unsupported, not all Alexander's genius and

resolution could have saved him: by the aid of the Lombard cities,

whose league he had counselled and hallowed, and of the fevers of

Rome, by which the conquering German host was suddenly annihilated, he

won a triumph the more signal, that it was over a prince so wise and

so pious as Frederick. At Venice, who, inaccessible by her position,

maintained a sedulous neutrality, claiming to be independent of the

Empire, yet seldom led into war by sympathy with the Popes, the two

powers whose strife had roused all Europe were induced to meet by the

mediation of the doge Sebastian Ziani. Three slabs of red marble in

the porch of St. Mark's point out the spot where Frederick knelt in

sudden awe, and the Pope with tears of joy raised him, and gave the

kiss of peace. A later legend, to which poetry and painting have given

an undeserved currency[183], tells how the pontiff set his foot on the

neck of the prostrate king, with the words, 'The lion and the dragon

shalt thou trample under feet[184].' It needed not this exaggeration

to enhance the significance of that scene, even more full of meaning

for the future than it was solemn and affecting to the Venetian crowd

that thronged the church and the piazza. For it was the renunciation

by the mightiest prince of his time of the project to which his life

had been devoted: it was the abandonment by the secular power of a

contest in which it had twice been vanquished, and which it could not

renew under more favourable conditions.

[Sidenote: Revival of the study of the civil law.]

Authority maintained so long against the successor of Peter would be

far from indulgent to rebellious subjects. For it was in this light

that the Lombard cities appeared to a monarch bent on reviving all the

rights his predecessors had enjoyed: nay, all that the law of ancient

Rome gave her absolute ruler. It would be wrong to speak of a

re-discovery of the civil law. That system had never perished from

Gaul and Italy, had been the groundwork of some codes, and the whole

substance, modified only by the changes in society, of many others.

The Church excepted, no agent did so much to keep alive the memory of

Roman institutions. The twelfth century now beheld the study

cultivated with a surprising increase of knowledge and ardour,

expended chiefly upon the Pandects. First in Italy and the schools of

the South, then in Paris and Oxford, they were expounded, commented

on, extolled as the perfection of human wisdom, the sole, true, and

eternal law. Vast as has been the labour and thought expended from

that time to this in the elucidation of the civil law, the most

competent authorities declare that in acuteness, in subtlety, in all

those branches of learning which can subsist without help from

historical criticism, these so-called Glossatores have been seldom

equalled and never surpassed by their successors. The teachers of the

canon law, who had not as yet become the rivals of the civilian, and

were accustomed to recur to his books where their own were silent,

spread through Europe the fame and influence of the Roman

jurisprudence; while its own professors were led both by their feeling

and their interest to give to all its maxims the greatest weight and

the fullest application. Men just emerging from barbarism, with minds

unaccustomed to create and blindly submissive to authority, viewed

written texts with an awe to us incomprehensible. All that the most

servile jurists of Rome had ever ascribed to their despotic princes

was directly transferred to the Cæsarean majesty who inherited their

name. He was 'Lord of the world,' absolute master of the lives and

property of all his subjects, that is, of all men; the sole fountain

of legislation, the embodiment of right and justice. These doctrines,

which the great Bolognese jurists, Bulgarus, Martinus, Hugolinus, and

others who constantly surrounded Frederick, taught and applied, as

matter of course, to a Teutonic, a feudal king, were by the rest of

the world not denied, were accepted in fervent faith by his German and

Italian partisans. 'To the Emperor belongs the protection of the whole

world,' says bishop Otto of Freysing. 'The Emperor is a living law

upon earth[185].' To Frederick, at Roncaglia, the archbishop of Milan

speaks for the assembled magnates of Lombardy: 'Do and ordain

whatsoever thou wilt, thy will is law; as it is written, "Quicquid

principi placuit legis habet vigorem, cum populus ei et in eum omne

suum imperium et potestatem concesserit[186]." The Hohenstaufen

himself was not slow to accept these magnificent ascriptions of

dignity, and though modestly professing his wish to govern according

to law rather than override the law, was doubtless roused by them to a

more vehement assertion of a prerogative so hallowed by age and by

what seemed a divine ordinance.

[Sidenote: Frederick in Italy.]

[Sidenote: Rome under Arnold of Brescia.]

That assertion was most loudly called for in Italy. The Emperors might

appear to consider it a conquered country without privileges to be

respected, for they did not summon its princes to the German diets,

and overawed its own assemblies at Pavia or Roncaglia by the

Transalpine host that followed them. Its crown, too, was theirs

whenever they crossed the Alps to claim it, while the elections on the

banks of the Rhine might be adorned but could not be influenced by the

presence of barons from the southern kingdom[187]. In practice,

however, the imperial power stood lower in Italy than in Germany, for

it had been from the first intermittent, depending on the personal

vigour and present armed support of each invader. The theoretic

sovereignty of the Emperor-king was nowise disputed: in the cities

toll and tax were of right his: he could issue edicts at the Diet, and

require the tenants in chief to appear with their vassals. But the

revival of a control never exercised since Henry IV's time, was felt

as an intolerable hardship by the great Lombard cities, proud of

riches and population equal to that of the duchies of Germany or the

kingdoms of the North, and accustomed for more than a century to a

turbulent independence. For republicanism and popular freedom

Frederick had little sympathy. At Rome the fervent Arnold of Brescia

had repeated, but with far different thoughts and hopes, the part of

Crescentius[188]. The city had thrown off the yoke of its bishop, and

a commonwealth under consuls and senate professed to emulate the

spirit while it renewed the forms of the primitive republic. Its

leaders had written to Conrad III[189], asking him to help them to

restore the Empire to its position under Constantine and Justinian;

but the German, warned by St. Bernard, had preferred the friendship of

the Pope. Filled with a vain conceit of their own importance, they

repeated their offers to Frederick when he sought the crown from

Hadrian the Fourth. A deputation, after dwelling in highflown language

on the dignity of the Roman people, and their kindness in bestowing

the sceptre on him, a Swabian and a stranger, proceeded, in a manner

hardly consistent, to demand a largess ere he should enter the city.

Frederick's anger did not hear them to the end: 'Is this your Roman

wisdom? Who are ye that usurp the name of Roman dignities? Your

honours and your authority are yours no longer; with us are consuls,

senate, soldiers. It was not you who chose us, but Charles and Otto

that rescued you from the Greek and the Lombard, and conquered by

their own might the imperial crown. That Frankish might is still the

same: wrench, if you can, the club from Hercules. It is not for the

people to give laws to the prince, but to obey his mandate[190].' This

was Frederick's version of the 'Translation of the Empire[191].'

[Sidenote: The Lombard Cities.]

He who had been so stern to his own capital was not likely to deal

more gently with the rebels of Milan and Tortona. In the contest by

which Frederick is chiefly known to history, he is commonly painted as

the foreign tyrant, the forerunner of the Austrian oppressor[192],

crushing under the hoofs of his cavalry the home of freedom and

industry. Such a view is unjust to a great man and his cause. To the

despot liberty is always licence; yet Frederick was the advocate of

admitted claims; the aggressions of Milan threatened her neighbours;

the refusal, where no actual oppression was alleged, to admit his

officers and allow his regalian rights, seemed a wanton breach of

oaths and engagements, treason against God no less than himself[193].

Nevertheless our sympathy must go with the cities, in whose victory we

recognize the triumph of freedom and civilization. Their resistance

was at first probably a mere aversion to unused control, and to the

enforcement of imposts less offensive in former days than now, and by

long dereliction apparently obsolete[194]. Republican principles were

not avowed, nor Italian nationality appealed to. But the progress of

the conflict developed new motives and feelings, and gave them clearer

notions of what they fought for. As the Emperor's antagonist, the Pope

was their natural ally: he blessed their arms, and called on the

barons of Romagna and Tuscany for aid; he made 'The Church' ere long

their watchword, and helped them to conclude that league of mutual

support by means whereof the party of the Italian Guelfs was formed.

Another cry, too, began to be heard, hardly less inspiriting than the

last, the cry of freedom and municipal self-government--freedom little

understood and terribly abused, self-government which the cities who

claimed it for themselves refused to their subject allies, yet both of

them, through their divine power of stimulating effort and quickening

sympathy, as much nobler than the harsh and sterile system of a feudal

monarchy as the citizen of republican Athens rose above the slavish

Asiatic or the brutal Macedonian. Nor was the fact that Italians were

resisting a Transalpine invader without its effect; there was as yet

no distinct national feeling, for half Lombardy, towns as well as

rural nobles, fought under Frederick; but events made the cause of

liberty always more clearly the cause of patriotism, and increased

that fear and hate of the Tedescan for which Italy has had such bitter

justification.

[Sidenote: Temporary success of Frederick.]

The Emperor was for a time successful: Tortona was taken, Milan razed

to the ground, her name apparently lost: greater obstacles had been

overcome, and a fuller authority was now exercised than in the days of

the Ottos or the Henrys. The glories of the first Frankish conqueror

were triumphantly recalled, and Frederick was compared by his admirers

to the hero whose canonization he had procured, and whom he strove in

all things to imitate[195]. 'He was esteemed,' says one, 'second only

to Charles in piety and justice.' 'We ordain this,' says a decree: 'Ut

ad Caroli imitationem ius ecclesiarum statum reipublicæ et legum

integritatem per totum imperium nostrum servaremus[196].' But the hold

the name of Charles had on the minds of the people, and the way in

which he had become, so to speak, an eponym of Empire, has better

witnesses than grave documents. A rhyming poet sings[197]:--

'Quanta sit potentia vel laus Friderici

Cum sit patens omnibus, non est opus dici;

Qui rebelles lancea fodiens ultrici

Repræsentat Karolum dextera victrici.'

The diet at Roncaglia was a chorus of gratulations over the

re-establishment of order by the destruction of the dens of unruly

burghers.

[Sidenote: Victory of the Lombard league.]

This fair sky was soon clouded. From her quenchless ashes uprose

Milan; Cremona, scorning old jealousies, helped to rebuild what she

had destroyed, and the confederates, committed to an all but hopeless

strife, clung faithfully together till on the field of Legnano the

Empire's banner went down before the carroccio[198] of the free city.

Times were changed since Aistulf and Desiderius trembled at the

distant tramp of the Frankish hosts. A new nation had arisen, slowly

reared through suffering into strength, now at last by heroic deeds

conscious of itself. The power of Charles had overleaped boundaries of

nature and language that were too strong for his successor, and that

grew henceforth ever firmer, till they made the Empire itself a

delusive name. Frederick, though harsh in war, and now balked of his

most cherished hopes, could honestly accept a state of things it was

beyond his power to change: he signed cheerfully and kept dutifully

the peace of Constance, which left him little but a titular supremacy

over the Lombard towns.

[Sidenote: Frederick as German king.]

At home no Emperor since Henry III had been so much respected and so

generally prosperous. Uniting in his person the Saxon and Swabian

families, he healed the long feud of Welf and Waiblingen: his prelates

were faithful to him, even against Rome: no turbulent rebel disturbed

the public peace. Germany was proud of a hero who maintained her

dignity so well abroad, and he crowned a glorious life with a happy

death, leading the van of Christian chivalry against the Mussulman.

Frederick, the greatest of the Crusaders, is the noblest type of

mediæval character in many of its shadows, in all its lights.

[Sidenote: The German cities.]

Legal in form, in practice sometimes almost absolute, the government

of Germany was, like that of other feudal kingdoms, restrained chiefly

by the difficulty of coercing refractory vassals. All depended on the

monarch's character, and one so vigorous and popular as Frederick

could generally lead the majority with him and terrify the rest. A

false impression of the real strength of his prerogative might be

formed from the readiness with which he was obeyed. He repaired the

finances of the kingdom, controlled the dukes, introduced a more

splendid ceremonial, endeavoured to exalt the central power by

multiplying the nobles of the second rank, afterwards the 'college of

princes,' and by trying to substitute the civil law and Lombard feudal

code for the old Teutonic customs, different in every province. If not

successful in this project, he fared better with another. Since Henry

the Fowler's day towns had been growing up through Southern and

Western Germany, especially where rivers offered facilities for trade.

Cologne, Treves, Mentz, Worms, Speyer, Nürnberg, Ulm, Regensburg,

Augsburg, were already considerable cities, not afraid to beard their

lord or their bishop, and promising before long to counterbalance the

power of the territorial oligarchy. Policy or instinct led Frederick

to attach them to the throne, enfranchising many, granting, with

municipal institutions, an independent jurisdiction, conferring

various exemptions and privileges; while receiving in turn their

good-will and loyal aid, in money always, in men when need should

come. His immediate successors trode in his steps, and thus there

arose in the state a third order, the firmest bulwark, had it been

rightly used, of imperial authority; an order whose members, the Free

Cities, were through many ages the centres of German intellect and

freedom, the only haven from the storms of civil war, the surest hope

of future peace and union. In them national congresses to this day

sometimes meet: from them aspiring spirits strive to diffuse those

ideas of Germanic unity and self-government, which they alone have

kept alive. Out of so many flourishing commonwealths, four[199] have

been spared by foreign conquerors and faithless princes. To the

primitive order of German freemen, scarcely existing out of the towns,

except in Swabia and Switzerland, Frederick further commended himself

by allowing them to be admitted to knighthood, by restraining the

licence of the nobles, imposing a public peace, making justice in

every way more accessible and impartial. To the south-west of the

green plain that girdles in the rock of Salzburg, the gigantic mass of

the Untersberg frowns over the road which winds up a long defile to

the glen and lake of Berchtesgaden. There, far up among its limestone

crags, in a spot scarcely accessible to human foot, the peasants of

the valley point out to the traveller the black mouth of a cavern, and

tell him that within Barbarossa lies amid his knights in an enchanted

sleep[200], waiting the hour when the ravens shall cease to hover

round the peak, and the pear-tree blossom in the valley, to descend

with his Crusaders and bring back to Germany the golden age of peace

and strength and unity. Often in the evil days that followed the fall

of Frederick's house, often when tyranny seemed unendurable and

anarchy endless, men thought on that cavern, and sighed for the day

when the long sleep of the just Emperor should be broken, and his

shield be hung aloft again as of old in the camp's midst, a sign of

help to the poor and the oppressed.

FOOTNOTES:

[181] A great deal of importance seems to have been attached to this

symbolic act of courtesy. See Art. I of the Sachsenspiegel.

[182] Letter to the German bishops in Radewic; Mur., _S. R. I._, t.

vi. p. 833.

[183] A picture in the great hall of the ducal palace (the Sala del

Maggio Consiglio) represents the scene. See Rogers' Italy.

[184] Psalm xci.

[185] Document of 1230, quoted by Von Raumer, v. p. 81.

[186] Speech of archbishop of Milan, in Radewic; Mur. vi.

[187] Frederick's election (at Frankfort) was made 'non sine quibusdam

Italiæ baronibus.'--Otto Fris. i. But this was the exception.

[188] See also _post_, Chapter XVI.

[189] 'Senatus Populusque Romanus urbis et orbis totius domino

Conrado.'

[190] Otto of Freysing.

[191] Later in his reign, Frederick condescended to negotiate with

these Roman magistrates against a hostile Pope, and entered into a

sort of treaty by which they were declared exempt from all

jurisdiction but his own.

[192] See the first note to Shelley's _Hellas_. Sismondi is mainly

answerable for this conception of Barbarossa's position.

[193] They say rebelliously, says Frederick, 'Nolumus hunc regnare

super nos ... at nos maluimus honestam mortem quam ut,' &c.--Letter in

Pertz. _M. G. H._ legg. ii.

[194]

'De tributo Cæsaris nemo cogitabat;

Omnes erant Cæsares, nemo censum dabat;

Civitas Ambrosii, velut Troia, stabat,

Deos parum, homines minus formidabat.'

Poems relating to the Emperor Frederick of Hohenstaufen, published by

Grimm.

[195] Charles the Great was canonized by Frederick's anti-pope and

confirmed afterwards.

[196] _Acta Concil. Hartzhem._ iii., quoted by Von Raumer, ii. 6.

[197] Poems relating to Frederick I, _ut supra_.

[198] The carroccio was a waggon with a flagstaff planted on it, which

served the Lombards for a rallying-point in battle.

[199] Lübeck, Hamburg, Bremen, and Frankfort.

[Since this was first written Frankfort has been annexed by Prussia,

and her three surviving sisters have, by their entrance into the North

German confederation, lost something of their independence.]

[200] The legend is one which appears under various forms in many

countries.

The Holy Roman Empire · 第 11 / 21 章