The king of the Franks was well fitted for the position which he was chosen to fill. He was king of a stock which had been from the first Athanasian, and had never been tainted, like most of the Germanic tribes, by the adoption of Arian tenets. His grandfather, Charles Martel, had saved Europe from the danger of a Mahommedan conquest by his victory at Poitiers (732); his father, Pippin the Short, had helped the English missionary Boniface to achieve the conversion of Germany. The popes themselves had turned to the Frankish kings for support again and again in the course of the 8th century. Gregory III., involved in bitter hostilities with the iconoclastic reformers of the East, appealed to Charles Martel for aid, and even offered the king, it is said, the titles of consul and patrician. Zacharias pronounced the deposition of the last of the Merovingians, and gave to Pippin the title of king (751); while his successor, Stephen II., hard pressed by the Lombards, who were eager to replace the Eastern emperors in the possession of central Italy, not only asked and received the aid of the new king, but also acquired, in virtue of Pippin’s donation (754), the disputed exarchate itself. Thus was laid the foundation of the States of the Church; and the grateful pope rewarded the donation by the gift of the title of patricius Romanorum, which conferred on its recipient the duty and the privilege of protecting the Roman Church, along with some undefined measure of authority in Rome itself.[5] Finally, in 773, Pope Adrian I. had to appeal to Charles, the successor of Pippin, against the aggressions of the last of the Lombard kings; and in 774 Charles conquered the Lombard kingdom, and himself assumed its iron crown. Thus by the end of the 8th century the Frankish king stood on the very steps of the imperial throne. He ruled a realm which extended from the Pyrenees to the Harz, and from Hamburg to Rome—a realm which might be regarded as in itself a de facto empire. He bore the title of patricius, and he had shown that he did not bear it in vain by his vigorous defence of the papacy in 774. Here there stood, ready to hand, a natural representative of the conception of Empire; and Leo III., finding that he needed the aid of Charlemagne to maintain himself against his own Romans, finally took the decisive step of crowning him emperor, as he knelt in prayer at St Peter’s, on Christmas Day, 800.
The coronation of Charlemagne in 800 marks the coalescence into a single unity of two facts, or rather, more strictly speaking, of a fact and a theory. The fact is German and secular: it is the wide de facto empire, which the Frankish sword had conquered, and Frankish policy had organized as a single whole. The theory is Latin and ecclesiastical: it is a theory of the necessary political unity of the world, and its necessary representation in the person of an emperor—a theory half springing Theory of the Carolingian empire. from the unity of the old Roman empire, and half derived from the unity of the Christian Church as conceived in the New Testament. If we seek for the force which caused this fact and this theory to coalesce in the Carolingian empire, we can only answer—the papacy. The idea of Empire was in the Church; and the head of the Church translated this idea into fact. If, however, we seek to conceive the event of 800 from a political or legal point of view, and to determine the residence of the right of constituting an emperor, we at once drift into the fogs of centuries of controversy. Three answers are possible from three points of view; and all have their truth, according to the point of view. From the ecclesiastical point of view, the right resides with the pope. This theory was not promulgated (indeed no theory was promulgated) until the struggles of Papacy and Empire in the course of the middle ages; but by the time of Innocent III. it is becoming an established doctrine that a translatio Imperii took place in 800, whereby the pope transferred the Roman empire from the Greeks to the Germans in the person of the magnificent Charles.[6] One can only say that, as a matter of fact, the popes ceased to recognize the Eastern emperors, and recognized Charles instead, in the year 800; that, again, this recognition alone made Charles emperor, as nothing else could have done; but that no question arose, at the time, of any right of the pope to give the Empire to Charlemagne, for the simple reason that neither of the actors was acting or thinking in a legal spirit. If we now turn to study the point of view of the civil lawyer, animated by such a spirit, and basing himself on the code of Justinian, we shall find that an emperor must derive his institution and power from a lex regia passed by the populus Romanus; and such a view, strictly interpreted, will lead us to the conclusion that the citizens of Rome had given the crown to Charlemagne in 800, and continued to bestow it on successive emperors afterwards. There is indeed some speech, in the contemporary accounts of Charlemagne’s coronation, of the presence of “ancients among the Romans” and of “the faithful people”; but they are merely present to witness or applaud, and the conception of the Roman people as the source of Empire is one that was only championed, at a far later date, by antiquarian idealists like Arnold of Brescia and Cola di Rienzi. The faex Romuli, a population of lodging-house keepers, living upon pilgrims to the papal court, could hardly be conceived, except by an ardent imagination, as heir to the Quirites of the past. Finally, from the point of view of the German tribesman, we must admit that the Empire was something which, once received by his king (no matter how), descended in the royal family as an heirloom; or to which (when the kingship became elective) a title was conferred, along with the kingship, by the vote of electors.[7]
But apart from these questions of origin, two difficulties have still to be faced with regard to the nature and position of the Carolingian empire. Did Charlemagne and his successors enter into a new relation with their subjects, in virtue of their coronation? And what was the nature of the relation between the new emperor now established in the West and the old emperor still reigning in the East? It is true that Charlemagne exacted a new oath of allegiance from his subjects after his coronation, and again that he had a revision of all the laws of his dominions made in 802. But the revision did not amount to much in bulk: what there was contained little that was Roman; and, on the whole, it hardly seems probable that Charlemagne entered into any new relation with his subjects. The relation of his empire to the empire in the East is a more difficult and important problem. In 797 the empress Irene had deposed and blinded her son, Constantine VI., and usurped his throne. Now it would seem that Charlemagne, whose thoughts were already set on Empire, hoped to depose and succeed Irene, and thus to become sole representative of the conception Relations of the Carolingian to the Eastern empire. of Empire, both for the East and for the West. Suddenly there came, in 800, his own coronation as emperor, an act apparently unpremeditated at the moment, taking him by surprise, as one gathers from Einhard’s Vita Karoli, and interrupting his plans. It left him representative of the Empire for the West only, confronting another representative in the East. Such a position he did not desire: there had been a single Empire vested in a single person since 476, and he desired that there should still continue to be a single Empire, vested only in his own person. He now sought to achieve this unity by a proposal of marriage to Irene. The proposal failed, and he had to content himself with a recognition of his imperial title by the two successors of the empress. This did not, however, mean (at any rate in the issue) that henceforth there were to be two conjoint rulers, amicably ruling as colleagues a single Empire, in the manner of Arcadius and Honorius. The dual government of a single Empire established by Diocletian had finally vanished in 476; and the unity of the Empire was now conceived, as it had been conceived before the days of Diocletian, to demand a single representative. Henceforth there were two rulers, one at Aix-la-Chapelle and one at Constantinople, each claiming, whatever temporary concessions he might make, to be the sole ruler and representative of the Roman empire. On the one hand, the Western emperors held that, upon the deposition of Constantine VI., Charlemagne had succeeded him, after a slight interval, in the government of the whole Empire, both in the East and in the West; on the other hand, the Eastern emperors, in spite of their grudging recognition of Charlemagne at the moment, regarded themselves as the only lawful successors of Constantine VI., and viewed the Carolings and their later successors as upstarts and usurpers, with no right to their imperial pretensions. Henceforth two halves confronted one another, each claiming to be the whole; two finite bodies touched, and each yet claimed to be infinite.
If, as has been suggested, Charlemagne did not enter into any fundamentally new relations with his subjects after his coronation, it follows that the results of his coronation, in the sphere of policy and administration, cannot Character of the Carolingian empire. have been considerable. The Empire added a new sanction to a policy and administration already developed. Charlemagne had already showed himself episcopus episcoporum, anxious not only to suppress heresy and supervise the clergy within his borders, but also to extend true Christianity without them even before the year when his imperial coronation gave him a new title to supreme governorship in all cases ecclesiastical. He had already organized his empire on a new uniform system of counties, and the missi dominici were already at work to superintend the action of the counts, even before the renovatio imperii Romani came to suggest such uniformity and centralization. Charlemagne had a new title; but his subjects still obeyed the king of the Franks, and lived by Frankish law, in the old fashion. In their eyes, and in the eyes of Charlemagne’s own descendants, the Empire was something appendant to the kingship of the Franks, which made that kingship unique among others, but did not radically alter its character. True, the kingship might be divided among brothers by the old Germanic custom of partition, while the Empire must inhere in one person; but that was the one difference, and the one difficulty, which might easily be solved by attaching the name of emperor to the eldest brother. Such was the conception of the Carolings: such was not, however, the conception of the Church. To the popes the Empire was a solemn office, to which the kings of the Franks might most naturally be called, in view of their power and the traditions of their house, but which by no means remained in their hands as a personal property. By thus seeking to dissociate the Empire from any indissoluble connexion with the Carolingian house, the popes were able to save it. Civil wars raged among the descendants of Charlemagne: partitions recurred: the Empire was finally dissolved, in the sense that the old realm of Charlemagne fell asunder, in 888. Break-up of the Carolingian empire. But the Empire, as an office, did not perish. During the 9th century the popes had insisted, as each emperor died, that the new emperor needed coronation at their hands; and they had thus kept alive the conception of the Empire as an office to which they invited, if they did not appoint, each successive emperor. The quarrels of the Carolingian house helped them to make good their claim. John VIII. was able to select Charles the Bald in preference to other claimants in 875; and before the end of his Attitude of the papacy. pontificate he could write that “he who is to be ordained by us to the Empire must be by us first and foremost invited and elected.” Thus was the unity of the Empire preserved, and the conception of a united Empire continued, in spite of the eventual dissolution of the realm of Charlemagne. When the Carolingian emperors disappeared, Benedict IV. could crown Louis of Provence (901) and John X. could invite to the vacant throne an Italian potentate like Berengar of Friuli (915); and even when Berengar died in 924, and the Empire was vacant of an emperor, they could hold, and hold with truth, that the Empire was not dead, but only suspended, until such time as they should invite a new ruler to assume the office.
Various causes had contributed to the dissolution of the realm of Charlemagne. Partitions had split it; feudalism had begun to honeycomb it; incessant wars had destroyed its core, the fighting Franks of Austrasia. But, above all, the rise of divisions within the realm, which, whether animated by the spirit of nationality or no, were ultimately destined to develop into nations, had silently undermined the structure of Pippin and Charlemagne. Already in 842 the oath of Strassburg shows us one Caroling king swearing in French and another in German: already in 870 the partition of Mersen shows us the kings of France and Germany dividing the middle kingdom which lay between the two countries by the linguistic frontier of the Meuse and Moselle. The year 888 is the birth-year of modern Europe. France, Germany, Italy, stood distinct as three separate units, with Burgundy and Lorraine as debatable lands, as they were destined to remain for centuries to come. If the conception of Empire was still to survive, the pope must ultimately invite the The German kingdom and the empire. ruler of the strongest of these three units to assume the imperial crown; and this was what happened when in 962 Pope John XII. invited Otto I. of Germany to renew once more the Roman Empire. As the imperial strength of the whole Frankish tribe had given them the Empire in 800, so did the national strength of the East Frankish kingdom, now resting indeed on a Saxon rather than a Frankish basis, bring the Empire to its ruler in 962. The centre of political gravity had already been shifting to the east of the Rhine in the course of the 9th century. While the Northmen had carried their arms along the rivers and into the heart of France, Louis the German had consolidated his kingdom in a long reign of sixty years (817-876); and at the end of the 9th century two kings of Germany had already worn the imperial crown. Early in the 10th century the kingship of Germany had come to the vigorous Saxon dukes (919); and strong in their Saxon basis Henry I. and his son Otto had built a realm which, disunited as it was, was far more compact than that which the Carolings of the West ruled from Laon. Henry I. had thought in his later years of going to Rome for the imperial crown: under Otto I. the imperial idea becomes manifest. On the one hand, he established a semi-imperial position in the West: by 946 Louis IV. d’Outremer is his protégé, and it is his arms which maintain the young Conrad of Burgundy on his throne. On the other hand, he showed, by his policy towards the German Church, that he was the true heir of the Carolingian traditions. He made churchmen his ministers; he established missionary bishoprics on the Elbe which should spread Christianity among the Wends; and his dearest project was a new archbishopric of Magdeburg. The one thing needful was that he should, like Charlemagne, acquire the throne of Italy; and the dissolute condition of that country during the first half of the The Holy Roman Empire. 10th century made its acquisition not only possible, but almost imperative. Begun in 952, the acquisition was completed ten years later; and all the conditions were now present for Otto’s assumption of the imperial throne. He was crowned by John XII. on Candlemas Day 962, and thus was begun the Holy Roman Empire, which lasted henceforth with a continuous life until 1806.[8]
The same ideas underlay the new empire which had underlain that of Charlemagne, strengthened and reinforced by the fact that they had already found a visible expression before in that earlier empire. Historically, there was the tradition of the old Roman empire, preserved by the Church as an idea, and preserved in the Church, and its imperial organization, as an actual fact. Ecclesiastically, there was the Pauline conception of a single Christian Church, one in subjection to Christ as its Head, and needing (so men still thought) a secular counterpart of its indivisible unity.[9] To these two sanctions philosophy later added a third; and the doctrine of Realism, that the one universal is the true abiding substance—the doctrine which pervades the De monarchia of Dante,—reinforced the feeling which demanded that Europe should be conceived as a single political unity. But if the Holy Roman empire of the German nation has the old foundations, it is none the less a thing sui generis. Externally, it meant far less than the empire of Charlemagne; it meant simply a union of Germany and northern Italy (to which, after 1032, one must also add Burgundy, though the addition is in reality nominal) under a single rule. Historians of the 19th century, during the years in which the modern German empire was in travail, disputed sorely on the advantages of this union; but whatever its advantages or disadvantages, the fact remains that the union of Teutonic Germany and Latin Italy was, from an external point of view, the essential fact in the structure of the medieval Empire. Internally, again, the Empire of the Ottos and their successors was new and unprecedented. If Latin imperialism had been combined with Frankish tribalism The Empire and feudalism. in the Empire of Charlemagne, it now met and blended with feudalism. The Holy Roman emperor of the middle ages, as Frederick I. proudly told the Roman envoys, found his senate in the diet of the German baronage, his equites in the ranks of the German knights. Feudalism, indeed, came in time to invade the very conception of Empire itself. The emperors began to believe that their position of emperor made them feudal overlords of other kings and princes; and they came to be regarded as the topmost summit of the feudal pyramid, from whom kings held their kingdoms, while they themselves held directly of God. In this way the old conception of the world as a single political society entered upon a new phase: but the translation of that conception into feudal terms, which might have made Diocletian gasp, only gave it the greater hold on the feudal society of the middle ages. Yet in one way the feudal conception was a source of weakness to the Empire; for the popes, from the middle of the 12th century onwards, began to claim for themselves a feudal overlordship of the world, and to regard the emperor as the chief of their vassals. The theory of the Translatio buttressed their claim to be overlords of the Empire; and the emperors found that their very duty to defend the Papacy turned them into its vassals—for was not the advocatus who defended the lands of an abbey or church its tenant by feudal service, and might not analogy extend the feudal relation to the imperial advocate himself?
The relation of the Empire to the Papacy is indeed the cardinal fact in its history for the three centuries which followed the coronation of Otto I. (962-1250). For a century (962-1076) the relation was one of amity. The pope The Empire and the Papacy. and the emperor stood as co-ordinate sovereigns, ruling together the commonwealth of Europe.[10] If either stood before the other, the emperor stood before the pope. The Romans had sworn to Otto I. that they would never elect or ordain a pope without his consent; and the rights over papal elections conceived to belong to the office of patricius, which they generally held, enabled the emperors, upon occasion, to nominate the pope of their choice. The partnership of Otto III., son of a Byzantine princess, and his nominee Silvester II. (already distinguished as Gerbert, scholasticus of the chapter school of Reims) forms a remarkable page in the annals of Empire and Papacy. Otto, once the pupil of Silvester in classical studies, and taught by his mother the traditions of the Byzantine empire, dreamed of renewing the Empire of Constantine, with Rome itself for its centre; and this antiquarian idealism (which Arnold of Brescia and Cola di Rienzi were afterwards, though with some difference of aim, to share) was encouraged in his pupil by the pope. Tradition afterwards ascribed to the two the first project of a crusade, and the institution of the seven electors: in truth their faces were turned to the past rather than to the future, and they sought not to create, but to renovate. The dream of restoring the age of Constantine passed with the premature death of Otto; and after the death of Silvester II. the papacy was degraded into an appendage of the Tusculan family. From that degradation the Church was rescued by Henry III. (the second emperor of the new Salian house, which reigned from 1024 to 1125), when in 1046 he caused the deposition of three competing popes, and afterwards filled the papal chair with his own nominees; but it was rescued more effectually by itself, when in 1059 the celebrated bull In nomine Domini of Nicholas II. reserved the right of electing the popes to the college of cardinals (see [Conclave]). A new era of the Papacy begins with the decree, and that era found its exponent in Hildebrand. If under Henry III. the Empire stands in many respects at its zenith, and the emperor nominates to the Papacy, it sinks, under Henry IV., almost to the nadir of its fortunes, and a pope attempts, with no little success, to fight and defeat an emperor.
The rise of the Papacy, which the action of Henry III. in 1046 had helped to begin, and the bull of 1059 had greatly promoted, was ultimately due to an ecclesiastical revival, which goes by the name of the Cluniac movement. The aim The Investiture contest. of that movement was to separate the Church from the world, and thus to make it independent of the laity and the lay power; and it sought to realize its aim first by the prohibition of clerical marriage and simony, and ultimately by the prohibition of lay investiture. A decree of Gregory VII. in 1075 forbade emperor, king or prince to “presume to give investiture of bishoprics,” under pain of excommunication; and Henry IV., contravening the decree, fell under the penalty, and the War of Investitures began (1076-1122). Whether or no Henry humiliated himself at Canossa (and the opinion of German historians now inclines to regard the traditional account as exaggerated) the Empire certainly suffered in his reign a great loss of prestige. The emperor lost his hold over Germany, where the aid of the pope strengthened the hands of the discontented nobility: he lost his hold over Italy, where the Lombard towns gradually acquired municipal independence, and the donation of the Countess Matilda gave the popes the germ of a new and stronger dominium temporale. The First Crusade came, and the emperor, its natural leader, could not lead it; while the centre of learning and civilization, in the course of the fifty years’ War of Investitures, gradually shifted to France. The struggle was finally ended by a compromise—the Concordat of Worms—in 1122; but the Papacy, which had fought the long War of Investitures and inspired the First Crusade, was a far greater power than it had been at the beginning of the struggle, and the emperor, shaken in his hold on Germany and Italy, had lost both power and prestige (see [Investiture]). It is significant that a theory of the feudal subjection of the emperor to the pope, foreshadowed in the pontificate of Innocent II., and definitely enounced by the envoys of Adrian IV. at the diet of Besançon in 1157, now begins to arise. The popes, who had called the emperors to be heads of the European commonwealth in 800 and again in 962, begin to vindicate that headship for themselves. Gregory VII. had already claimed that the pope stood to the emperor, as the sun to the moon; and gradually the old co-ordination disappeared in a new subordination of the Empire to the papal plenitudo potestatis. The claim of ecclesiastical independence of the middle of the 11th century was rapidly becoming a claim of ecclesiastical supremacy in the middle of the 12th: the imperial claim to nominate popes, which had lasted till 1059, was turning into the papal claim to nominate emperors. Yet at this very time a new period of splendour dawned for the Empire; and the rule of the three Hohenstaufen emperors, Frederick I., Henry VI. and Frederick II. (1152-1250), marks the period of its history which attracts most sympathy and admiration.
Frederick I. regained a new strength in Germany, partly because he united in his veins the blood of the two great contending families, the Welfs and the Waiblingens; partly because he had acquired large patrimonial possessions The Hohenstaufen emperors. in Swabia, which took the place of the last Saxon demesne; partly because he had a greater control over the German episcopate than his predecessors had enjoyed for many years past. At the same time the revival of interest in the study of Roman law gave the emperor, as source and centre of that law, a new dignity and prestige, particularly in Italy, the home and hearth of the revival. Confident in this new strength, he attempted to vindicate his claims on Italy, and sought, by uniting the two under his sway, to inspire with new life the old Ottonian Empire. He failed to crush Lombard municipal independence: defeated at Legnano in 1176, he had to recognize his defeat at the treaty of Constance in 1183. He failed to acquire control over the Papacy: a new struggle of Empire and Papacy, begun in the pontificate of Adrian IV. on the question of control over Rome, and continued in the pontificate of Alexander III., because Frederick recognized an anti-pope, ended in the emperor’s recognition of his defeat at Venice in 1177. The one success was the acquisition of the Norman kingdom for Henry VI., who was married to its heiress, Constance. But the one success of Frederick’s Italian policy proved the ruin of his house in the reign of his grandson Frederick II. On the one hand, the possession of Sicily induced Frederick II. to neglect Germany; and by two documents, one of 1220 and one of 1231, he practically abdicated his sovereign powers to the German princes in order to conciliate their support for his Italian policy. On the other hand, the possession of Sicily involved him in the third great struggle of Empire and Papacy. Strong in his Sicilian kingdom in the south, and seeking, like his grandfather, to establish his power in Lombardy, Frederick practically aimed at the unification of Italy, a policy which threatened to engulf the States of the Church and to reduce the Papacy to impotence. The popes excommunicated the emperor: they aided the Lombard towns to maintain their independence; finally, after Frederick’s death (1250), they summoned Charles of Anjou into Overthrow of the Empire in Italy. Sicily to exterminate his house. By 1268 he had done his work, and the medieval Empire was practically at an end. When Rudolph of Habsburg succeeded in 1273, he was only the head of a federation of princes in Germany, while in Italy he abandoned all claims over the centre and south, and only retained titular rights in the Lombard plain.
Thus ended the first great chapter in the history of the Holy Roman Empire which Otto had founded in 962. In those three centuries the great fact had been its relation to the Papacy: in the last two of those three centuries the relation had been one of enmity. The basis of the enmity had been the papal claim to supreme headship of Latin Christianity, and to an independent temporal demesne in Italy as the condition of that headship. Because they desired supreme headship, the popes had sought to reduce the emperor’s headship to something lower than, and dependent upon, their own—to a mere fief held of St Peter: because they desired a temporal demesne, they had sought to expel him from Italy, since any imperial hold on Italy threatened their independence. They had succeeded in defeating the Empire, but they had also destroyed the Papacy; for the French aid which they had invoked against the Hohenstaufen developed, within fifty years of the fall of that house, into French control, and the captivity at Avignon (1308-1378) was the logical result of the final victory of Charles of Anjou at Tagliacozzo. The struggle seemed to have ended in nothing but the exhaustion of both combatants. Yet in many respects it had in reality made for progress. It had set men thinking of the respective limits of church and state, as the many libelli de lite imperatorum et pontificum show; and from that thought had issued a new conception of the state, as existing in its own right and supreme in its own sphere, a conception which is the necessary basis of the modern nation-state. If it had dislocated Germany into a number of territorial principalities, it had produced a college of electors to represent the cause of unity: if it had helped to prevent the unification of Italy, and had left to Italy the fatal legacy of Guelph and Ghibelline feuds, it had equally helped to produce Italian municipal independence.