THE EMPIRE AS AN INTERNATIONAL POWER.
[Sidenote: Theory of the Roman Empire in the fourteenth and fifteenth
centuries.]
That the Roman Empire survived the seemingly mortal wound it had
received at the era of the Great Interregnum, and continued to put
forth pretensions which no one was likely to make good where the
Hohenstaufen had failed, has been attributed to its identification
with the German kingdom, in which some life was still left. But this
was far from being the only cause which saved it from extinction. It
had not ceased to be upheld in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries
by the same singular theory which had in the ninth and tenth been
strong enough to re-establish it in the West. The character of that
theory was indeed somewhat changed, for if not positively less
religious, it was less exclusively so. In the days of Charles and
Otto, the Empire, in so far as it was anything more than a tradition
from times gone by, rested solely upon the belief that with the
visible Church there must be coextensive a single Christian state
under one head and governor. But now that the Emperor's headship had
been repudiated by the Pope, and his interference in matters of
religion denounced as a repetition of the sin of Uzziah; now that the
memory of mutual injuries had kindled an unquenchable hatred between
the champions of the ecclesiastical and those of the civil power, it
was natural that the latter, while they urged, fervently as ever, the
divine sanction given to the imperial office, should at the same time
be led to seek some further basis whereon to establish its claims.
What that basis was, and how they were guided to it, will best appear
when a word or two has been said on the nature of the change that had
passed on Europe in the course of the three preceding centuries, and
the progress of the human mind during the same period.
[Sidenote: Revival of learning and literature, A.D. 1100-1400.]
Such has been the accumulated wealth of literature, and so rapid the
advances of science among us since the close of the Middle Ages, that
it is not now possible by any effort fully to enter into the feelings
with which the relics of antiquity were regarded by those who saw in
them their only possession. It is indeed true that modern art and
literature and philosophy have been produced by the working of new
minds upon old materials: that in thought, as in nature, we see no new
creation. But with us the old has been transformed and overlaid by the
new till its origin is forgotten: to them ancient books were the only
standard of taste, the only vehicle of truth, the only stimulus to
reflection. Hence it was that the most learned man was in those days
esteemed the greatest: hence the creative energy of an age was exactly
proportioned to its knowledge of and its reverence for the written
monuments of those that had gone before. For until they can look
forward, men must look back: till they should have reached the level
of the old civilization, the nations of mediæval Europe must continue
to live upon its memories. Over them, as over us, the common dream of
all mankind had power; but to them, as to the ancient world, that
golden age which seems now to glimmer on the horizon of the future was
shrouded in the clouds of the past. It is to the fifteenth and
sixteenth centuries that we are accustomed to assign that new birth of
the human spirit--if it ought not rather to be called a renewal of its
strength and quickening of its sluggish life--with which the modern
time begins. And the date is well chosen, for it was then first that
the transcendently powerful influence of Greek literature began to
work upon the world. But it must not be forgotten that for a long time
previous there had been in progress a great revival of learning, and
still more of zeal for learning, which being caused by and directed
towards the literature and institutions of Rome, might fitly be called
the Roman Renaissance. The twelfth century saw this revival begin with
that passionate study of the legislation of Justinian, whose influence
on the doctrines of imperial prerogative has been noticed already. The
thirteenth witnessed the rapid spread of the scholastic philosophy, a
body of systems most alien, both in subject and manner, to anything
that had arisen among the ancients, yet one to whose development Greek
metaphysics and the theology of the Latin fathers had largely
contributed, and the spirit of whose reasonings was far more free than
the presumed orthodoxy of its conclusions suffered to appear. In the
fourteenth century there arose in Italy the first great masters of
painting and song; and the literature of the new languages, springing
into the fulness of life in the Divina Commedia, adorned not long
after by the names of Petrarch and Chaucer, assumed at once its place
as a great and ever-growing power in the affairs of men.
[Sidenote: Growing freedom of spirit.]
[Sidenote: Influence of thought upon the arrangements of society.]
Now, along with the literary revival, partly caused by, partly causing
it, there had been also a wonderful stirring and uprising in the mind
of Europe. The yoke of church authority still pressed heavily on the
souls of men; yet some had been found to shake it off, and many more
murmured in secret. The tendency was one which shewed itself in
various and sometimes apparently opposite directions. The revolt of
the Albigenses, the spread of the Cathari and other so-called
heretics, the excitement created by the writings of Wickliffe and
Huss, witnessed to the fearlessness wherewith it could assail the
dominant theology. It was present, however skilfully disguised, among
those scholastic doctors who busied themselves with proving by natural
reason the dogmas of the Church: for the power which can forge fetters
can also break them. It took a form more dangerous because of a more
direct application to facts, in the attacks, so often repeated from
Arnold of Brescia downwards, upon the wealth and corruptions of the
clergy, and above all of the papal court. For the agitation was not
merely speculative. There was beginning to be a direct and rational
interest in life, a power of applying thought to practical ends, which
had not been seen before. Man's life among his fellows was no longer a
mere wild beast struggle; man's soul no more, as it had been, the
victim of ungoverned passion, whether it was awed by supernatural
terrors or captivated by examples of surpassing holiness. Manners were
still rude, and governments unsettled; but society was learning to
organize itself upon fixed principles; to recognize, however faintly,
the value of order, industry, equality; to adapt means to ends, and
conceive of the common good as the proper end of its own existence. In
a word, Politics had begun to exist, and with them there had appeared
the first of a class of persons whom friends and enemies may both,
though with different meanings, call ideal politicians; men who,
however various have been the doctrines they have held, however
impracticable many of the plans they have advanced, have been
nevertheless alike in their devotion to the highest interests of
humanity, and have frequently been derided as theorists in their own
age to be honoured as the prophets and teachers of the next.
[Sidenote: Separation of the peoples of Europe into hostile kingdoms:
consequent need of an international power.]
Now it was towards the Roman Empire that the hopes and sympathies of
these political speculators as well as of the jurists and poets of the
fourteenth and fifteenth centuries were constantly directed. The cause
may be gathered from the circumstances of the time. The most
remarkable event in the history of the last three hundred years had
been the formation of nationalities, each distinguished by a peculiar
language and character, and by steadily increasing differences of
habits and institutions. And as upon this national basis there had
been in most cases established strong monarchies, Europe was broken up
into disconnected bodies, and the cherished scheme of a united
Christian state appeared less likely than ever to be realized. Nor was
this all. Sometimes through race-hatred, more often by the jealousy
and ambition of their sovereigns, these countries were constantly
involved in war with one another, violating on a larger scale and with
more destructive results than in time past the peace of the religious
community; while each of them was at the same time torn within by
frequent insurrections, and desolated by long and bloody civil wars.
The new nationalities were too fully formed to allow the hope that by
their extinction a remedy might be applied to these evils. They had
grown up in spite of the Empire and the Church, and were not likely to
yield in their strength what they had won in their weakness. But it
still appeared possible to soften, if not to overcome, their
antagonism. What might not be looked for from the erection of a
presiding power common to all Europe, a power which, while it should
oversee the internal concerns of each country, not dethroning the
king, but treating him as an hereditary viceroy, should be more
especially charged to prevent strife between kingdoms, and to maintain
the public order of Europe by being not only the fountain of
international law, but also the judge in its causes and the enforcer
of its sentences?
[Sidenote: The Popes as international Judges.]
To such a position had the Popes aspired. They were indeed excellently
fitted for it by the respect which the sacredness of their office
commanded; by their control of the tremendous weapons of
excommunication and interdict; above all, by their exemption from
those narrowing influences of place, or blood, or personal interest,
which it would be their chiefest duty to resist in others. And there
had been pontiffs whose fearlessness and justice were worthy of their
exalted office, and whose interference was gratefully remembered by
those who found no other helpers. Nevertheless, judging the Papacy by
its conduct as a whole, it had been tried and found wanting. Even when
its throne stood firmest and its purposes were most pure, one motive
had always biassed its decisions--a partiality to the most submissive.
During the greater part of the fourteenth century it was at Avignon
the willing tool of France: in the pursuit of a temporal principality
it had mingled in and been contaminated by the unhallowed politics of
Italy; its supreme council, the college of cardinals, was distracted
by the intrigues of two bitterly hostile factions. And while the power
of the Popes had declined steadily, though silently, since the days of
Boniface the Eighth, the insolence of the great prelates and the vices
of the inferior clergy had provoked throughout Western Christendom a
reaction against the pretensions of all sacerdotal authority. As there
is no theory at first sight more attractive than that which entrusts
all government to a supreme spiritual power, which, knowing what is
best for man, shall lead him to his true good by appealing to the
highest principles of his nature, so there is no disappointment more
bitter than that of those who find that the holiest office may be
polluted by the lusts and passions of its holder; that craft and
hypocrisy lead while fanaticism follows; that here too, as in so much
else, the corruption of the best is worst. Some such disappointment
there was in Europe now, and with it a certain disposition to look
with favour on the secular power: a wish to escape from the unhealthy
atmosphere of clerical despotism to the rule of positive law, harsher,
it might be, yet surely less corrupting. Espousing the cause of the
Roman Empire as the chief opponent of priestly claims, this tendency
found it, with shrunken territory and diminished resources, fitter in
some respects for the office of an international judge and mediator
than it had been as a great national power. For though far less widely
active, it was losing that local character which was fast gathering
round the Papacy. With feudal rights no longer enforcible, and
removed, except in his patrimonial lands, from direct contact with the
subject, the Emperor was not, as heretofore, conspicuously a German
and a feudal king, and occupied an ideal position far less marred by
the incongruous accidents of birth and training, of national and
dynastic interests.
[Sidenote: Duties attributed to the Empire by the developed theory.]
[Sidenote: Divine right of the Emperor.]
To that position three cardinal duties were attached. He who held it
must typify spiritual unity, must preserve peace, must be a fountain
of that by which alone among imperfect men peace is preserved and
restored, law and justice. The first of these three objects was sought
not only on religious grounds, but also from that longing for a wider
brotherhood of humanity towards which, ever since the barrier between
Jew and Gentile, Greek and barbarian, was broken down, the aspirations
of the higher minds of the world have been constantly directed. Placed
in the midst of Europe, the Emperor was to bind its tribes into one
body, reminding them of their common faith, their common blood, their
common interest in each other's welfare. And he was therefore above
all things, professing indeed to be upon earth the representative of
the Prince of Peace, bound to listen to complaints, and to redress the
injuries inflicted by sovereigns or people upon each other; to punish
offenders against the public order of Christendom; to maintain through
the world, looking down as from a serene height upon the schemes and
quarrels of meaner potentates, that supreme good without which neither
arts nor letters, nor the gentler virtues of life, can rise and
flourish. The mediæval Empire was in its essence what the modern
despotisms that mimic it profess themselves: the Empire was
peace[279]: the oldest and noblest title of its head was 'Imperator
pacificus[280].' And that he might be the peacemaker, he must be the
expounder of justice and the author of its concrete embodiment,
positive law; chief legislator and supreme judge of appeal, like his
predecessor the compiler of the Corpus Iuris, the one and only source
of all legitimate authority. In this sense, as governor and
administrator, not as owner, is he, in the words of the jurists, Lord
of the world; not that its soil belongs to him in the same sense in
which the soil of France or England belongs to their respective kings:
he is the steward of Him who has received the heathen for his
possession and the uttermost parts of the earth for his inheritance.
It is, therefore, by him alone that the idea of pure right, acquired
not by force but by legitimate devolution from those whom God himself
had set up, is visibly expressed upon earth. To find an external and
positive basis for that idea is a problem which it has at all times
been more easy to evade than to solve, and one peculiarly distressing
to those who could neither explain the phenomena of society by
reducing it to its original principles, nor inquire historically how
its existing arrangements had grown up. Hence the attempt to represent
human government as an emanation from divine: a view from which all
the similar but far less logically consistent doctrines of divine
right which have prevailed in later times are borrowed. As has been
said already, there is not a trace of the notion that the Emperor
reigns by an hereditary right of his own or by the will of the people,
for such a theory would have seemed to the men of the middle ages an
absurd and wicked perversion of the true order. Nor do his powers come
to him from those who choose him, but from God, who uses the electoral
princes as mere instruments of nomination. Having such an origin, his
rights exist irrespective of their actual exercise, and no voluntary
abandonment, not even an express grant, can impair them. Boniface the
Eighth[281] reminds the king of France, and imperialist lawyers till
the seventeenth century repeated the claim, that he, like other
princes, is of right and must ever remain subject to the Roman
Emperor. And the sovereigns of Europe long continued to address the
Emperor in language, and yield to him a precedence, which admitted the
inferiority of their own position[282].
There was in this theory nothing that was absurd, though much that was
impracticable. The ideas on which it rested are still unapproached in
grandeur and simplicity, still as far in advance of the average
thought of Europe, and as unlikely to find men or nations fit to apply
them, as when they were promulgated five hundred years ago. The
practical evil which the establishment of such a universal monarchy
was intended to meet, that of wars and hardly less ruinous
preparations for war between the states of Europe, remains what it was
then. The remedy which mediæval theory proposed has been in some
measure applied by the construction and reception of international
law; the greater difficulty of erecting a tribunal to arbitrate and
decide, with the power of enforcing its decisions, is as far from a
solution as ever.
[Sidenote: Roman Empire why an international power.]
It is easy to see how it was to the Roman Emperor, and to him only,
that the duties and privileges above mentioned could be attributed.
Being Roman, he was of no nation, and therefore fittest to judge
between contending states, and appease the animosities of race. His
was the imperial tongue of Rome, not only the vehicle of religion and
law, but also, since no other was understood everywhere in Europe, the
necessary medium of diplomatic intercourse. As there was no Church but
the Holy Roman Church, and he its temporal head, it was by him that
the communion of the saints in its outward form, its secular side, was
represented, and to his keeping that the sanctity of peace must be
entrusted. As direct heir of those who from Julius to Justinian had
shaped the existing law of Europe[283], he was, so to speak, legality
personified[284]; the only sovereign on earth who, being possessed of
power by an unimpeachable title, could by his grant confer upon others
rights equally valid. And as he claimed to perpetuate the greatest
political system the world had known, a system which still moves the
wonder of those who see before their eyes empires as much wider than
the Roman as they are less symmetrical, and whose vast and complex
machinery far surpassed anything the fourteenth century possessed or
could hope to establish, it was not strange that he and his government
(assuming them to be what they were entitled to be) should be taken as
the ideal of a perfect monarch and a perfect state.
[Sidenote: Illustrations.]
[Sidenote: Right of creating Kings.]
Of the many applications and illustrations of these doctrines which
mediæval documents furnish, it will suffice to adduce two or three. No
imperial privilege was prized more highly than the power of creating
kings, for there was none which raised the Emperor so much above them.
In this, as in other international concerns, the Pope soon began to
claim a jurisdiction, at first concurrent, then separate and
independent. But the older and more reasonable view assigned it, as
flowing from the possession of supreme secular authority, to the
Emperor; and it was from him that the rulers of Burgundy, Bohemia,
Hungary, perhaps Poland and Denmark, received the regal title[285].
The prerogative was his in the same manner in which that of conferring
titles is still held to belong to the sovereign in every modern
kingdom. And so when Charles the Bold, last duke of French Burgundy,
proposed to consolidate his wide dominions into a kingdom, it was from
Frederick III that he sought permission to do so. The Emperor,
however, was greedy and suspicious, the Duke uncompliant; and when
Frederick found that terms could not be arranged between them, he
stole away suddenly, and left Charles to carry back, with
ill-concealed mortification, the crown and sceptre which he had
brought ready-made to the place of interview.
[Sidenote: Chivalry.]
In the same manner, as representing what was common to and valid
throughout all Europe, nobility, and more particularly knighthood,
centred in the Empire. The great Orders of Chivalry were international
institutions, whose members, having consecrated themselves a military
priesthood, had no longer any country of their own, and could
therefore be subject to no one save the Emperor and the Pope. For
knighthood was constructed on the analogy of priesthood, and knights
were conceived of as being to the world in its secular aspect exactly
what priests, and more especially the monastic orders, were to it in
its religious aspect: to the one body was given the sword of the
flesh, to the other the sword of the spirit; each was universal, each
had its autocratic head[286]. Singularly, too, were these notions
brought into harmony with the feudal polity. Cæsar was lord paramount
of the world: its countries great fiefs whose kings were his tenants
in chief, the suitors of his court, owing to him homage, fealty, and
military service against the infidel.
[Sidenote: Persons eligible as Emperors.]
One illustration more of the way in which the empire was held to be
something of and for all mankind, cannot be omitted. Although from the
practical union of the imperial with the German throne none but
Germans were chosen to fill it[287], it remained in point of law
absolutely free from all restrictions of country or birth. In an age
of the most intense aristocratic exclusiveness, the highest office in
the world was the only secular one open to all Christians. The old
writers, after debating at length the qualifications that are or may
be desirable in an Emperor, and relating how in pagan times Gauls and
Spaniards, Moors and Pannonians, were thought worthy of the purple,
decide that two things, and no more, are required of the candidate for
Empire: he must be free-born, and he must be orthodox[288].
[Sidenote: The Empire and the new learning.]
[Sidenote: The doctrine of the Empire's rights and functions never
carried out in fact.]
It is not without a certain surprise that we see those who were
engaged in the study of ancient letters, or felt indirectly their
stimulus, embrace so fervently the cause of the Roman Empire. Still
more difficult is it to estimate the respective influence exerted by
each of the three revivals which it has been attempted to distinguish.
The spirit of the ancient world by which the men who led these
movements fancied themselves animated, was in truth a pagan, or at
least a strongly secular spirit, in many respects inconsistent with
the associations which had now gathered round the imperial office. And
this hostility did not fail to shew itself when at the beginning of
the sixteenth century, in the fulness of the Renaissance, a direct and
for the time irresistible sway was exercised by the art and literature
of Greece, when the mythology of Euripides and Ovid supplanted that
which had fired the imagination of Dante and peopled the visions of
St. Francis; when men forsook the image of the saint in the cathedral
for the statue of the nymph in the garden; when the uncouth jargon of
scholastic theology was equally distasteful to the scholars who formed
their style upon Cicero and the philosophers who drew their
inspiration from Plato. That meanwhile the admirers of antiquity did
ally themselves with the defenders of the Empire, was due partly
indeed to the false notions that were entertained regarding the early
Cæsars, yet still more to the common hostility of both sects to the
Papacy. It was as successor of old Rome, and by virtue of her
traditions, that the Holy See had established so wide a dominion; yet
no sooner did Arnold of Brescia and his republicans arise, claiming
liberty in the name of the ancient constitution of the republic, than
they found in the Popes their bitterest foes, and turned for help to
the secular monarch against the clergy. With similar aversion did the
Romish court view the revived study of the ancient jurisprudence, so
soon as it became, in the hands of the school of Bologna and
afterwards of the jurists of France, a power able to assert its
independence and resist ecclesiastical pretensions. In the ninth
century, Pope Nicholas the First had himself judged in the famous case
of Teutberga, wife of Lothar, according to the civil law: in the
thirteenth, his successors[289] forbade its study, and the canonists
strove to expel it from Europe[290]. And as the current of educated
opinion among the laity was beginning, however imperceptibly at first,
to set against sacerdotal tyranny, it followed that the Empire would
find sympathy in any effort it could make to regain its lost position.
Thus the Emperors became, or might have become had they seen the
greatness of the opportunity and been strong enough to improve it, the
exponents and guides of the political movement, the pioneers, in part
at least, of the Reformation. But the revival came too late to arrest,
if not to adorn, the decline of their office. The growth of a national
sentiment in the several countries of Europe, which had already gone
too far to be arrested, and was urged on by forces far stronger than
the theories of Catholic unity which opposed it, imprinted on the
resistance to papal usurpation, and even on the instincts of political
freedom, that form of narrowly local patriotism which they still
retain. It can hardly be said that upon any occasion, except the
gathering of the council of Constance by Sigismund, did the Emperor
appear filling a truly international place. For the most part he
exerted in the politics of Europe no influence greater than that of
other princes. In actual resources he stood below the kings of France
and England, far below his vassals the Visconti of Milan[291]. Yet
this helplessness, such was men's faith or their timidity, and such
their unwillingness to make prejudice bend to facts, did not prevent
his dignity from being extolled in the most sonorous language by
writers whose imaginations were enthralled by the halo of traditional
glory which surrounded it.
[Sidenote: Attitude of the men of letters.]
We are thus brought back to ask, What was the connection between
imperialism and the literary revival?
[Sidenote: Petrarch.]
To moderns who think of the Roman Empire as the heathen persecuting
power, it is strange to find it depicted as the model of a Christian
commonwealth. It is stranger still that the study of antiquity should
have made men advocates of arbitrary power. Democratic Athens,
oligarchic Rome, suggest to us Pericles and Brutus: the moderns who
have striven to catch their spirit have been men like Algernon Sidney,
and Vergniaud, and Shelley. The explanation is the same in both
cases[292]. The ancient world was known to the earlier middle ages by
tradition, freshest for what was latest, and by the authors of the
Empire. Both presented to them the picture of a mighty despotism and a
civilization brilliant far beyond their own. Writings of the fourth
and fifth centuries, unfamiliar to us, were to them authorities as
high as Tacitus or Livy; yet Virgil and Horace too had sung the
praises of the first and wisest of the Emperors. To the enthusiasts of
poetry and law, Rome meant universal monarchy[293]; to those of
religion, her name called up the undimmed radiance of the Church under
Sylvester and Constantine. Petrarch, the apostle of the dawning
Renaissance, is excited by the least attempt to revive even the shadow
of imperial greatness: as he had hailed Rienzi, he welcomes Charles IV
into Italy, and execrates his departure. The following passage is
taken from his letter to the Roman people asking them to receive back
Rienzi:--'When was there ever such peace, such tranquillity, such
justice, such honour paid to virtue, such rewards distributed to the
good and punishments to the bad, when was ever the state so wisely
guided, as in the time when the world had obtained one head, and that
head Rome; the very time wherein God deigned to be born of a virgin
and dwell upon earth. To every single body there has been given a
head; the whole world therefore also, which is called by the poet a
great body, ought to be content with one temporal head. For every
two-headed animal is monstrous; how much more horrible and hideous a
portent must be a creature with a thousand different heads, biting and
fighting against one another! If, however, it is necessary that there
be more heads than one, it is nevertheless evident that there ought to
be one to restrain all and preside over all, that so the peace of the
whole body may abide unshaken. Assuredly both in heaven and in earth
the sovereignty of one has always been best.'
[Sidenote: Dante.]
His passion for the heroism of Roman conquest and the ordered peace to
which it brought the world, is the centre of Dante's political hopes:
he is no more an exiled Ghibeline, but a patriot whose fervid
imagination sees a nation arise regenerate at the touch of its
rightful lord. Italy, the spoil of so many Teutonic conquerors, is the
garden of the Empire which Henry is to redeem: Rome the mourning
widow, whom Albert is denounced for neglecting[294]. Passing through
purgatory, the poet sees Rudolf of Hapsburg seated gloomily apart,
mourning his sin in that he left unhealed the wounds of Italy[295]. In
the deepest pit of hell's ninth circle lies Lucifer, huge,
three-headed; in each mouth a sinner whom he crunches between his
teeth, in one mouth Iscariot the traitor to Christ, in the others the
two traitors to the first Emperor of Rome, Brutus and Cassius[296]. To
multiply illustrations from other parts of the poem would be an
endless task; for the idea is ever present in Dante's mind, and
displays itself in a hundred unexpected forms. Virgil himself is
selected to be the guide of the pilgrim through hell and purgatory,
not so much as being the great poet of antiquity, as because he 'was
born under Julius and lived beneath the good Augustus;' because he was
divinely charged to sing of the Empire's earliest and brightest
glories. Strange, that the shame of one age should be the glory of
another. For Virgil's melancholy panegyrics upon the destroyer of the
republic are no more like Dante's appeals to the coming saviour of
Italy than is Cæsar Octavianus to Henry count of Luxemburg.
[Sidenote: Attitude of the Jurists.]
The visionary zeal of the man of letters was seconded by the more
sober devotion of the lawyer. Conqueror, theologian, and jurist,
Justinian is a hero greater than either Julius or Constantine, for his
enduring work bears him witness. Absolutism was the civilian's
creed[297]: the phrases 'legibus solutus,' 'lex regia,' whatever else
tended in the same direction, were taken to express the prerogative of
him whose official style of Augustus, as well as the vernacular name
of 'Kaiser,' designated the legitimate successor of the compiler of
the Corpus Juris. Since it was upon that legitimacy that his claim to
be the fountain of law rested, no pains were spared to seek out and
observe every custom and precedent by which old Rome seemed to be
connected with her representative.
[Sidenote: Imitations of old Rome.]
Of the many instances that might be collected, it would be tedious to
enumerate more than a few. The offices of the imperial household,
instituted by Constantine the Great, were attached to the noblest
families of Germany. The Emperor and Empress, before their coronation
at Rome, were lodged in the chambers called those of Augustus and
Livia[298]; a bare sword was borne before them by the prætorian
prefect; their processions were adorned by the standards, eagles,
wolves and dragons, which had figured in the train of Hadrian or
Theodosius[299]. The constant title of the Emperor himself, according
to the style introduced by Probus, was 'semper Augustus,' or
'perpetuus Augustus,' which erring etymology translated 'at all times
increaser of the Empire[300].' Edicts issued by a Franconian or
Swabian sovereign were inserted as Novels[301] in the Corpus Juris, in
the latest editions of which custom still allows them a place. The
_pontificatus maximus_ of his pagan predecessors was supposed to be
preserved by the admission of each Emperor as a canon of St. Peter's
at Rome and St. Mary's at Aachen[302]. Sometimes we even find him
talking of his consulship[303]. Annalists invariably number the place
of each sovereign from Augustus downwards[304]. The notion of an
uninterrupted succession, which moves the stranger's wondering smile
as he sees ranged round the magnificent Golden Hall of Augsburg the
portraits of the Cæsars, laurelled, helmeted, and periwigged, from
Julius the conqueror of Gaul to Joseph the partitioner of Poland, was
to those generations not an article of faith only because its denial
was inconceivable.
[Sidenote: Reverence for ancient forms and phrases in the Middle
Ages.]
[Sidenote: Absence of the idea of change or progress.]
And all this historical antiquarianism, as one might call it, which
gathers round the Empire, is but one instance, though the most
striking, of that eager wish to cling to the old forms, use the old
phrases, and preserve the old institutions to which the annals of
mediæval Europe bear witness. It appears even in trivial expressions,
as when a monkish chronicler says of evil bishops deposed, _Tribu moti
sunt_, or talks of the 'senate and people of the Franks,' when he
means a council of chiefs surrounded by a crowd of half-naked
warriors. So throughout Europe charters and edicts were drawn up on
Roman precedents; the trade-guilds, though often traceable to a
different source, represented the old _collegia_; villenage was the
offspring of the system of _coloni_ under the later Empire. Even in
remote Britain, the Teutonic invaders used Roman ensigns, and stamped
their coins with Roman devices; called themselves 'Basileis' and
'Augusti[305].' Especially did the cities perpetuate Rome through her
most lasting boon to the conquered, municipal self-government; those
of later origin emulating in their adherence to antique style others
who, like Nismes and Cologne, Zürich and Augsburg, could trace back
their institutions to the _coloniæ_ and _municipia_ of the first
centuries. On the walls and gates of hoary Nürnberg[306] the traveller
still sees emblazoned the imperial eagle, with the words 'Senatus
populusque Norimbergensis,' and is borne in thought from the quiet
provincial town of to-day to the stirring republic of the middle ages:
thence to the Forum and the Capitol of her greater prototype. For, in
truth, through all that period which we call the Dark and Middle Ages,
men's minds were possessed by the belief that all things continued as
they were from the beginning, that no chasm never to be recrossed lay
between them and that ancient world to which they had not ceased to
look back. We who are centuries removed can see that there had passed
a great and wonderful change upon thought, and art, and literature,
and politics, and society itself: a change whose best illustration is
to be found in the process whereby there arose out of the primitive
basilica the Romanesque cathedral, and from it in turn the endless
varieties of Gothic. But so gradual was the change that each
generation felt it passing over them no more than a man feels that
perpetual transformation by which his body is renewed from year to
year; while the few who had learning enough to study antiquity through
its contemporary records, were prevented by the utter want of
criticism and of that which we call historical feeling, from seeing
how prodigious was the contrast between themselves and those whom they
admired. There is nothing more modern than the critical spirit which
dwells upon the difference between the minds of men in one age and in
another; which endeavours to make each age its own interpreter, and
judge what it did or produced by a relative standard. Such a spirit
was, before the last century or two, wholly foreign to art as well as
to metaphysics. The converse and the parallel of the fashion of
calling mediæval offices by Roman names, and supposing them therefore
the same, is to be found in those old German pictures of the siege of
Carthage or the battle between Porus and Alexander, where in the
foreground two armies of knights, mailed and mounted, are charging
each other like Crusaders, lance, in rest, while behind, through the
smoke of cannon, loom out the Gothic spires and towers of the
beleaguered city. And thus, when we remember that the notion of
progress and development, and of change as the necessary condition
thereof, was unwelcome or unknown in mediæval times, we may better
understand, though we do not cease to wonder, how men, never doubting
that the political system of antiquity had descended to them, modified
indeed, yet in substance the same, should have believed that the
Frank, the Saxon, and the Swabian ruled all Europe by a right which
seems to us not less fantastic than that fabled charter whereby
Alexander the Great[307] bequeathed his empire to the Slavic race for
the love of Roxolana.
It is a part of that perpetual contradiction of which the history of
the Middle Ages is full, that this belief had hardly any influence on
practical politics. The more abjectly helpless the Emperor becomes, so
much the more sonorous is the language in which the dignity of his
crown is described. His power, we are told, is eternal, the provinces
having resumed their allegiance after the barbarian irruptions[308];
it is incapable of diminution or injury: exemptions and grants by him,
so far as they tend to limit his own prerogative, are invalid[309]:
all Christendom is still of right subject to him, though it may
contumaciously refuse obedience[310]. The sovereigns of Europe are
solemnly warned that they are resisting the power ordained of
God[311]. No laws can bind the Emperor, though he may choose to live
according to them: no court can judge him, though he may condescend to
be sued in his own: none may presume to arraign the conduct or
question the motives of him who is answerable only to God[312]. So
writes Æneas Sylvius, while Frederick the Third, chased from his
capital by the Hungarians, is wandering from convent to convent, an
imperial beggar; while the princes, whom his subserviency to the Pope
has driven into rebellion, are offering the imperial crown to
Podiebrad the Bohemian king.
[Sidenote: Henry VII, A.D. 1308-1313.]
[Sidenote: Death of Henry VII.]
But the career of Henry the Seventh in Italy is the most remarkable
illustration of the Emperor's position: and imperialist doctrines are
set forth most strikingly in the treatise which the greatest spirit of
the age wrote to herald the advent of that hero, the _De Monarchia_ of
Dante[313]. Rudolf, Adolf of Nassau, Albert of Hapsburg, none of them
crossed the Alps or attempted to aid the Italian Ghibelines who
battled away in the name of their throne. Concerned only to restore
order and aggrandize his house, and thinking apparently that nothing
more was to be made of the imperial crown, Rudolf was content never to
receive it, and purchased the Pope's goodwill by surrendering his
jurisdiction in the capital, and his claims over the bequest of the
Countess Matilda. Henry the Luxemburger ventured on a bolder course;
urged perhaps only by his lofty and chivalrous spirit, perhaps in
despair at effecting anything with his slender resources against the
princes of Germany. Crossing from his Burgundian dominions with a
scanty following of knights, and descending from the Cenis upon Turin,
he found his prerogative higher in men's belief after sixty years of
neglect than it had stood under the last Hohenstaufen. The cities of
Lombardy opened their gates; Milan decreed a vast subsidy; Guelf and
Ghibeline exiles alike were restored, and imperial vicars appointed
everywhere: supported by the Avignonese pontiff, who dreaded the
restless ambition of his French neighbour, king Philip IV, Henry had
the interdict of the Church as well as the ban of the Empire at his
command. But the illusion of success vanished as soon as men,
recovering from their first impression, began to be again governed by
their ordinary passions and interests, and not by an imaginative
reverence for the glories of the past. Tumults and revolts broke out
in Lombardy; at Rome the king of Naples held St. Peter's, and the
coronation must take place in St. John Lateran, on the southern bank
of the Tiber. The hostility of the Guelfic league, headed by the
Florentines, Guelfs even against the Pope, obliged Henry to depart
from his impartial and republican policy, and to purchase the aid of
the Ghibeline chiefs by granting them the government of cities. With
few troops, and encompassed by enemies, the heroic Emperor sustained
an unequal struggle for a year longer, till, in A.D. 1313, he sank
beneath the fevers of the deadly Tuscan summer. His German followers
believed, nor has history wholly rejected the tale, that poison was
given him by a Dominican monk, in sacramental wine.
[Sidenote: Later Emperors in Italy.]
Others after him descended from the Alps, but they came, like Lewis
the Fourth, Rupert, Sigismund, at the behest of a faction, which found
them useful tools for a time, then flung them away in scorn; or like
Charles the Fourth and Frederick the Third, as the humble minions of a
French or Italian priest. With Henry the Seventh ends the history of
the Empire in Italy, and Dante's book is an epitaph instead of a
prophecy. A sketch of its argument will convey a notion of the
feelings with which the noblest Ghibelines fought, as well as of the
spirit in which the Middle Age was accustomed to handle such subjects.
[Sidenote: Dante's feelings and theories.]
Weary of the endless strife of princes and cities, of the factions
within every city against each other, seeing municipal freedom, the
only mitigation of turbulence, vanish with the rise of domestic
tyrants, Dante raises a passionate cry for some power to still the
tempest, not to quench liberty or supersede local self-government, but
to correct and moderate them, to restore unity and peace to hapless
Italy. His reasoning is throughout closely syllogistic: he is
alternately the jurist, the theologian, the scholastic metaphysician:
the poet of the Divina Commedia is betrayed only by the compressed
energy of diction, by his clear vision of the unseen, rarely by a
glowing metaphor.
[Sidenote: The 'De Monarchia.']
Monarchy is first proved to be the true and rightful form of
government. Men's objects are best attained during universal peace:
this is possible only under a monarch. And as he is the image of the
Divine unity, so man is through him made one, and brought most near to
God. There must, in every system of forces, be a 'primum mobile;' to
be perfect, every organization must have a centre, into which all is
gathered, by which all is controlled[314]. Justice is best secured by
a supreme arbiter of disputes, himself unsolicited by ambition, since
his dominion is already bounded only by ocean. Man is best and
happiest when he is most free; to be free is to exist for one's own
sake. To this grandest end does the monarch and he alone guide us;
other forms of government are perverted[315], and exist for the
benefit of some class; he seeks the good of all alike, being to that
very end appointed[316].
Abstract arguments are then confirmed from history. Since the world
began there has been but one period of perfect peace, and but one of
perfect monarchy, that, namely, which existed at our Lord's birth,
under the sceptre of Augustus; since then the heathen have raged, and
the kings of the earth have stood up; they have set themselves against
their Lord, and his anointed the Roman prince[317]. The universal
dominion, the need for which has been thus established, is then proved
to belong to the Romans. Justice is the will of God, a will to exalt
Rome shewn through her whole history[318]. Her virtues deserved
honour: Virgil is quoted to prove those of Æneas, who by descent and
marriage was the heir of three continents: of Asia through Assaracus
and Creusa; of Africa by Electra (mother of Dardanus and daughter of
Atlas) and Dido; of Europe by Dardanus and Lavinia. God's favour was
approved in the fall of the shields to Numa, in the miraculous
deliverance of the capital from the Gauls, in the hailstorm after
Cannæ. Justice is also the advantage of the state: that advantage was
the constant object of the virtuous Cincinnatus, and the other heroes
of the republic. They conquered the world for its own good, and
therefore justly, as Cicero attests[319]; so that their sway was not
so much 'imperium' as 'patrocinium orbis terrarum.' Nature herself,
the fountain of all right, had, by their geographical position and by
the gift of a genius so vigorous, marked them out for universal
dominion:--
'Excudent alii spirantia mollius æra,
Credo equidem: vivos ducent de marmore vultus;
Orabunt causas melius, cœlique meatus
Describent radio, et surgentia sidera dicent:
Tu regere imperio populos, Romane, memento;
Hæ tibi erunt artes; pacisque imponere morem,
Parcere subiectis, et debellare superbos.'
Finally, the right of war asserted, Christ's birth, and death under
Pilate, ratified their government. For Christian doctrine requires
that the procurator should have been a lawful judge[320], which he was
not unless Tiberius was a lawful Emperor.
The relations of the imperial and papal power are then examined, and
the passages of Scripture (tradition being rejected), to which the
advocates of the Papacy appeal, are elaborately explained away. The
argument from the sun and moon[321] does not hold, since both lights
existed before man's creation, and at a time when, as still sinless,
he needed no controlling powers. Else _accidentia_ would have preceded
_propria_ in creation. The moon, too, does not receive her being nor
all her light from the sun, but so much only as makes her more
effective. So there is no reason why the temporal should not be aided
in a corresponding measure by the spiritual authority. This difficult
text disposed of, others fall more easily; Levi and Judah, Samuel and
Saul, the incense and gold offered by the Magi[322]; the two swords,
the power of binding and loosing given to Peter. Constantine's
donation was illegal: no single Emperor nor Pope can disturb the
everlasting foundations of their respective thrones: the one had no
right to bestow, nor the other to receive, such a gift. Leo the Third
gave the Empire to Charles wrongfully: '_usurpatio iuris non facit
ius_.' It is alleged that all things of one kind are reducible to one
individual, and so all men to the Pope. But Emperor and Pope differ in
kind, and so far as they are men, are reducible only to God, on whom
the Empire immediately depends; for it existed before Peter's see, and
was recognized by Paul when he appealed to Cæsar. The temporal power
of the Papacy can have been given neither by natural law, nor divine
ordinance, nor universal consent: nay, it is against its own Form and
Essence, the life of Christ, who said, 'My kingdom is not of this
world.'
Man's nature is twofold, corruptible and incorruptible: he has
therefore two ends, active virtue on earth, and the enjoyment of the
sight of God hereafter; the one to be attained by practice conformed
to the precepts of philosophy, the other by the theological virtues.
Hence two guides are needed, the pontiff and the Emperor, the latter
of whom, in order that he may direct mankind in accordance with the
teachings of philosophy to temporal blessedness, must preserve
universal peace in the world. Thus are the two powers equally ordained
of God, and the Emperor, though supreme in all that pertains to the
secular world, is in some things dependent on the pontiff, since
earthly happiness is subordinate to eternal. 'Let Cæsar, therefore,
shew towards Peter the reverence wherewith a firstborn son honours his
father, that, being illumined by the light of his paternal favour, he
may the more excellently shine forth upon the whole world, to the rule
of which he has been appointed by Him alone who is of all things, both
spiritual and temporal, the King and Governor.' So ends the treatise.
Dante's arguments are not stranger than his omissions. No suspicion is
breathed against Constantine's donation; no proof is adduced, for no
doubt is felt, that the Empire of Henry the Seventh is the legitimate
continuation of that which had been swayed by Augustus and Justinian.
Yet Henry was a German, sprung from Rome's barbarian foes, the elected
of those who had neither part nor share in Italy and her capital.
FOOTNOTES:
[279] See esp. Ægidi, _Der Fürstenrath nach dem Luneviller Frieden_,
and the passages by him quoted.
[280] The archbishop of Mentz addresses Conrad II on his election
thus: 'Deus quum a te multa requirat tum hoc potissimum desiderat ut
facias iudicium et iustitiam et pacem patriæ quæ respicit ad te, ut
sis defensor ecclesiarum et clericorum, tutor viduarum et
orphanorum.'--Wippo, Vita Chuonradi, c. 3, _ap._ Pertz. So Pope Urban
IV writes to Richard: 'Ut consternatis Imperii Romani inimicis, in
pacis pulchritudine sedeat populus Christianus et requie opulenta
quiescat.' Compare also the 'Edictum de crimine læsæ maiestatis'
issued by Henry VII in Italy: 'Ad reprimenda multorum facinora qui
ruptis totius debitæ fidelitatis habenis adversus Romanum imperium, in
cuius tranquillitate totius orbis regularitas requiescit, hostili
animo armati conentur nedum humana, verum etiam divina præcepta,
quibus iubetur quod omnis anima Romanorum principi sit subiecta,
scelestissimis facinoribus et rebellionibus demoliri,' &c.--Pertz, _M.
G. H._, legg. ii. p. 544.
See also a curious passage in the Life of St. Adalbert, describing the
beginning of the reign at Rome of the Emperor Otto III, and his cousin
and nominee Pope Gregory V: 'Lætantur cum primatibus minores
civitatis: cum afflicto paupere exultant agmina viduarum, quia novus
imperator dat iura populis; dat iura novus papa.'
[281] 'Imperator est monarcha omnium regum et principum terrenorum ...
nec insurgat superbia Gallicorum quæ dicat quod non recognoscit
superiorem, mentiuntur, quia de iure sunt et esse debent sub rege
Romanorum et Imperatore.'--Speech of Boniface VIII. It is curious to
compare with this the words addressed nearly five centuries earlier by
Pope John VIII to Lewis, king of Bavaria: 'Si sumpseritis Romanum
imperium, omnia regna vobis subiecta existent.'
[282] So Alfonso, king of Naples, writes to Frederick III: 'Nos reges
omnes debemus reverentiam Imperatori, tanquam summo regi, qui est
Caput et Dux regum.'--Quoted by Pfeffinger, _Vitriarius illustratus_,
i. 379. And Francis I (of France), speaking of a proposed combined
expedition against the Turks, says, 'Cæsari nihilominus principem ea
in expeditione locum non gravarer ex officio cedere.'--For a long time
no European sovereign save the Emperor ventured to use the title of
'Majesty.' The imperial chancery conceded it in 1633 to the kings of
England and Sweden; in 1641 to the king of France.--Zedler, _Universal
Lexicon_, _s. v._ Majestät.
[283] For with the progress of society and the growth of commerce the
old feudal customs were through the greater part of Western Europe,
and especially in Germany, either giving way to or being remodelled
and supplemented by the civil law.
[284] 'Imperator est animata lex in terris.'--Quoted by Von Raumer, v.
81.
[285] Thus we are told of the Emperor Charles the Bald, when he
confirmed the election of Boso, king of Burgundy and Provence, 'Dedit
Bosoni Provinciam (_sc._ Carolus Calvus), et corona in vertice capitis
imposita, eum regem appellari iussit, ut more priscorum imperatorum
regibus videretur dominari.'--_Regin. Chron._ Frederick II made his
son Enzio (that famous Enzio whose romantic history every one who has
seen Bologna will remember) king of Sardinia, and also erected the
duchy of Austria into a kingdom, although for some reason the title
seems never to have been used; and Lewis IV gave to Humbert of
Dauphiné the title of King of Vienne, A.D. 1336.
[286] It is probably for this reason that the _Ordo Romanus_ directs
the Emperor and Empress to be crowned (in St. Peter's) at the altar of
St. Maurice, the patron saint of knighthood.
[287] See especially Gerlach Buxtorff, _Dissertatio ad Auream Bullam_;
and Augustinus Stenchus, _De Imperio Romano_; quoted by Marquard
Freher. It was keenly debated, while Charles V and Francis I (of
France) were rival candidates, whether any one but a German was
eligible. By birth Charles was either a Spaniard or a Fleming; but
this difficulty his partisans avoided by holding that he had been,
according to the civil law, _in potestate_ of Maximilian his
grandfather. However, to say nothing of the Guidos and Berengars of
earlier days, the examples of Richard and Alfonso are conclusive as to
the eligibility of others than Germans. Edward III of England was, as
has been said, actually elected; Henry VIII was a candidate. And
attempts were frequently made to elect the kings of France.
[288] The mediæval practice seems to have been that which still
prevails in the Roman Catholic Church--to presume the doctrinal
orthodoxy and external conformity of every citizen, whether lay or
clerical, until the contrary be proved. Of course when heresy was rife
it went hard with suspected men, unless they could either clear
themselves or submit to recant. But no one was required to pledge
himself beforehand, as a qualification for any office, to certain
doctrines. And thus, important as an Emperor's orthodoxy was, he does
not appear to have been subjected to any test, although the Pope
pretended to the right of catechizing him in the faith and rejecting
him if unsound. In the _Ordo Romanus_ we find a long series of
questions which the Pontiff was to administer, but it does not appear,
and is in the highest degree unlikely, that such a programme was ever
carried out.
The charge of heresy was one of the weapons used with most effect
against Frederick II.
[289] Honorius II in 1229 forbade it to be studied or taught in the
University of Paris. Innocent IV published some years later a still
more sweeping prohibition.
[290] See Von Savigny, _History of Roman Law in the Middle Ages_, vol.
iii. pp. 81, 341-347.
[291] Charles the Bold of Burgundy was a potentate incomparably
stronger than the Emperor Frederick III from whom he sought the regal
title.
[292] Cf. Sismondi, _Républiques Italiennes_, iv. chap. xxvii.
[293] See Dante, _Paradiso_, canto vi.
[294]
'Vieni a veder la tua Roma, che piange
Vedova, sola, e di e notte chiama:
"Cesare mio, perchè non m' accompagne?"'
_Purgatorio_, canto vi.
[295] _Purgatorio_, canto vii.
[296] _Inferno_, canto xxxiv.
[297] Not that the doctors of the civil law were necessarily political
partisans of the Emperors. Savigny says that there were on the
contrary more Guelfs than Ghibelines among the jurists of
Bologna.--_Roman Law in the Middle Ages_, vol. iii. p. 80.
[298] Cf. Palgrave, _Normandy and England_, vol. ii. (of Otto and
Adelheid). The _Ordo Romanus_ talks of a 'Camera Iuliæ' in the Lateran
palace, reserved for the Empress.
[299] See notes to _Chron. Casin._ in Muratori, _S. R. I._ iv. 515.
[300] Zu aller Zeiten Mehrer des Reichs.
[301] _Novellæ Constitutiones_.
[302] Marquard Freher. The question whether the seven electors vote as
_singuli_ or as a _collegium_, is solved by shewing that they have
stepped into the place of the senate and people of Rome, whose duty it
was to choose the Emperor, though (it is naïvely added) the soldiers
sometimes usurped it.--Peter de Andlo, _De Imperio Romano_.
[303] Thus Charles, in a capitulary added to a revised edition of the
Lombard law issued in A.D. 801, says, 'Anno consulatus nostri primo.'
So Otto III calls himself 'Consul Senatus populique Romani.'
[304] Francis II, the last Emperor, was one hundred and twentieth from
Augustus. Some chroniclers call Otto the Great Otto II, counting in
Salvius Otho, the successor of Galba.
[305] See p. 45 and note to p. 143.
[306] Nürnberg herself was not of Roman foundation. But this makes the
imitation all the more curious. The fashion even passed from the
cities to rural communities like some of the Swiss cantons. Thus we
find 'Senatus populusque Uronensis.'
[307] See Palgrave, _Normandy and England_, i. p. 379.
[308] Æneas Sylvius, _De Ortu et Authoritate Imperii Romani_.
[309] Thus some civilians held Constantine's Donation null; but the
canonists, we are told, were clear as to its legality.
[310] 'Et idem dico de istis aliis regibus et principibus, qui negant
se esse subditos regi Romanorum, ut rex Franciæ, Angliæ, et similes.
Si enim fatentur ipsum esse Dominum universalem, licet ab illo
universali domino se subtrahant ex privilegio vel ex præscriptione vel
consimili, non ergo desunt esse cives Romani, per ea quæ dicta sunt.
Et per hoc omnes gentes quæ obediunt S. matri ecclesiæ sunt de populo
Romano. Et forte si quis diceret dominum Imperatorem non esse dominum
et monarcham totius orbis, esset hæreticus, quia diceret contra
determinationem ecclesiæ et textum S. evangelii, dum dicit, "Exivit
edictum a Cæsare Augusto ut describeretur universus orbis." Ita et
recognovit Christus Imperatorem ut dominum.'--Bartolus, _Commentary on
the Pandects_, xlviii. i. 24; _De Captivis et postliminio reversis_.
[311] Peter de Andlo, _multis locis_ (see esp. cap. viii.), and other
writings of the time. Cf. Dante's letter to Henry VII: 'Romanorum
potestas nec metis Italiæ nec tricornis Siciliæ margine coarctatur.
Nam etsi vim passa in angustum gubernacula sua contraxit undique,
tamen de inviolabili iure fluctus Amphitritis attingens vix ab inutili
unda Oceani se circumcingi dignatur. Scriptum est enim
"Nascetur pulchra Troianus origine Cæsar,
Imperium Oceano, famam qui terminet astris."'
So Fr. Zoannetus, in the sixteenth century, declares it to be a mortal
sin to resist the Empire, as the power ordained of God.
[312] Æneas Sylvius Piccolomini (afterwards Pope Pius II), _De Ortu et
Authoritate Imperii Romani_. Cf. Gerlach Buxtorff, _Dissertatio ad
Auream Bullam_.
[313] It has hitherto been the common opinion that the _De Monarchia_
was written in the view of Henry's expedition. But latterly weighty
reasons have been advanced for believing that its date must be placed
some years later.
[314] Suggesting the celestial hierarchies of Dionysius the
Areopagite.
[315] Quoting Aristotle's _Politics_.
[316] 'Non enim cives propter consules nec gens propter regem, sed e
converso consules propter cives, rex propter gentem.'
[317] 'Reges et principes in hoc unico concordantes, ut adversentur
Domino suo et uncto suo Romano Principi,' having quoted 'Quare
fremuerunt gentes.'
[318] Especially in the opportune death of Alexander the Great.
[319] Cic., _De Off._, ii. 'Ita ut illud patrocinium orbis terrarum
potius quam imperium poterat nominari.'
[320] 'Si Pilati imperium non de iure fuit, peccatum in Christo non
fuit adeo punitum.'
[321] There is a curious seal of the Emperor Otto IV (figured in J. M.
Heineccius, _De veteribus Germanorum atque aliarum nationum
sigillis_), on which the sun and moon are represented over the head of
the Emperor. Heineccius says he cannot explain it, but there seems to
be no reason why we should not take the device as typifying the accord
of the spiritual and temporal powers which was brought about at the
accession of Otto, the Guelfic leader, and the favoured candidate of
Pope Innocent III.
The analogy between the lights of heaven and the princes of earth is
one which mediæval writers are very fond of. It seems to have
originated with Gregory VII.
[322] Typifying the spiritual and temporal powers. Dante meets this by
distinguishing the homage paid to Christ from that which his Vicar can
rightfully demand.