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Frederick II could not play the statesman amid such conditions; he needed raw material to work with and great foes to fight; perhaps he was not equal to these hucksterings. All thought for princely greed and princely bickering he thankfully handed over to the subordinate government which he set up, and which during the minority of King Henry was in the first place entrusted to Archbishop Engelbert of Cologne, who was to be Germany’s Gubernator. To himself he drew all the virile manhood of Germany.
A topical poem of Walther von der Vogelweide’s sketches the position of the day with bitter irony and acumen. The princes’ delay in electing Henry was holding up Frederick’s departure for Rome and for the Holy Land. To influence the election in the direction of Frederick’s wishes Walther offers the princes a piece of advice; they are at all times eager enough “to be rid of the king”; he shows how, by merely electing Henry, they will be able to despatch him “a thousand miles and more away to Trani:”
Ye foes! Just let him have his way and go,
Perhaps he thus will never vex you more!
If he dies there—which Heaven forfend—you score;
If he return to us, his friends, the more
We praise the fate that doth our lord restore.
My plan will profit both the friend and foe.
Walther von der Vogelweide was in close touch with Frederick, and the verses were intended to assist his plans. The poet at length received “his fief,” for which he had so long and vainly petitioned Kaiser Otto. Thus Frederick attached the Minnesänger to his cause; the best that Germany had was his. On the whole, however, it was time for him to quit the North. The same year found him in Sicily displaying his prowess and adding a second more brilliant success to his first.
In August 1220 he started out with a smallish force from the Lechfeld at Augsburg, the usual rallying point for armies marching to Italy. He was accompanied by Queen Constance and a number of princes, chiefly those who like their King wore the Crusaders’ Cross. Slowly he marched southwards, following the Brenner Road that had seen so many German Emperors march to Rome, past Innsbruck, Bozen, Trent—where eight years before as an adventurer he had turned aside into the pathless mountain tracts—and on to Verona.
He did not enter the town, but camped outside in tents during those September days, beside the Lake of Garda, with his court. The first letter that he wrote on Italian soil was addressed to Pope Honorius, thanking him for all his kindness, and informing him that the writer had, for the good of his soul, submitted to the penances prescribed by the Church and been freed from the ban which might have fallen on him as a dilatory Crusader. He had acted thus, he hastened to add, not because he felt himself at fault, but solely to testify his reverence for Pope and Church. He sent in advance his Court Chancellor and the Archbishop Conrad of Metz as royal legates to see that all was quiet in imperial Italy, a country always easily roused.
The towns of Lombardy had all recognised Frederick II, even his hereditary enemy Milan. Nevertheless, the country was seething with excitement, and people were just waiting in momentary quiet to see which of the parties in upper Italy Frederick would elect to join. A reputation for extraordinary vigour, courage and shrewdness had preceded the King, spread during the recent years by the songs of the troubadours, as they travelled from court to court of the north Italian nobility. They seem to have been a little disappointed when they saw their future Emperor, for in spite of his six and twenty years he still struck them as too boyish looking.
Frederick II most scrupulously avoided taking sides amongst the towns, and even carried this reserve so far that on the whole journey to Rome he never entered any town but always camped outside. The only exception he made was in favour of Bologna, famous for its Roman Law, and his retinue was presently increased by the addition of the famous lawyer Roffredo of Benevento, who had formerly been a teacher of law at Bologna and was now posted in Arezzo.
It was remarked that while Frederick, as was the Emperor’s custom on entering Italy, confirmed in their rights all the Italian towns, he only confirmed such freedoms and privileges as they enjoyed vis-à-vis the Empire, and no allusion was made to Sicily. The Pope had not yet made an authoritative pronouncement about the crown of Sicily; this served as a welcome and valid excuse for Frederick II’s careful reservation. The truth was, however, that he was anxious not to part with any of the privileges pertaining to his hereditary kingdom. The Genoese were most bitterly disappointed over this, for their envoys had hastened with high hopes to the royal camp at Modena. Genoa, the town that had so warmly espoused Frederick’s cause on his journey to Germany, and had boasted herself his “Gate of Empire” (Genoa—Janua), had been hoping for favoured treatment in respect of Sicily. Frederick, however, confirmed only her imperial rights, and announced that in no circumstances would Sicilian concessions be made prior to his arrival in the kingdom. What he was planning soon became apparent.
Frederick had announced his approach to the Pope in the early days of October, sending as ambassador—for the first time—the Grand Master of the Teutonic Order, Hermann of Salza. Travelling by the Via Flaminia across the Apennines, the King followed at his leisure, and a month later when he drew near Rome he received a counter-embassy from the Pope, who on the eve of Frederick’s coronation as Emperor was anxious to receive final assurances: that the Imperium as such had no claims at all on Sicily, that Sicily was exclusively the hereditary possession of the Empress-Mother Constance, that Frederick must instal no foreign officials in Sicily and must employ a separate royal seal. All this suited Frederick admirably. So long as Sicily was his, he was supremely indifferent as to the precise legal phraseology under which he possessed it. A far weightier point was that the Curia by this agreement showed itself officially reconciled to the personal union. A few other points in connection with the Crusade were agreed on, and, finally, the date of the coronation was fixed for the 22nd of November, the last Sunday before Advent.
The early days of his success were far behind, yet Frederick constantly recalled them to the world’s remembrance. Providence had preserved him through all the perils of his boyhood that the tempests of the storm-tossed Empire might obey him. He early conceived his personal fate to be under the immediate law of a higher power, a point of view which later became of immense importance. Earlier emperors had sought to base the immediacy of their imperial office under God on theories and doctrines of law—always disputed by the Popes from Gregory VII onwards. Frederick seldom troubled to seek legal proofs. With far greater effect he simply pointed to his own personal good fortune, which marked him in the sight of all the world as one chosen by the providence of God. It is true this did not demonstrate the immediate derivation from God of the imperial power in general, but all the more cogently that of the present Emperor—which was vastly more to the point. For thus every glorification of the Emperor’s office became a glorification of himself, and the general mission of the Empire became a personal mission of just this particular Emperor, or, to use the phrase which Frederick himself minted, “our unconquerable will became fused in the imperial dignity.” Person and office began to merge in one.
Frederick’s assumption of the imperial dignity with all the ancient ceremonial pomp was to be the closing scene of the first act, the climax of these years of earliest successes. On the great day Frederick rode with the Queen Constance from the Monte Mario down into Rome along the ancient coronation way, the Via Triumphalis. Halting at a little bridge outside the town the future Emperor had to confirm the Roman people in their lawful rights, and thereupon he received at the Porta Collina, near the Baths of Diocletian, the homage of the clergy of the city, who escorted him in solemn procession with censers and crucifixes to the Church of St. Peter. Chamberlains scattering largesse paced ahead, and the praefectus urbi bearing the sword. In the space before St. Peter’s the escort was changed: Roman Senators now strode on the King’s right hand to take his horse at the steps of the church. Meanwhile the Pope had likewise issued in
solemn procession from the Sacristy of St. Peter and on the topmost stair awaited in state the arrival of the King. On his right were the cardinals—bishops or priests—on his left the cardinal-deacons, the remaining clergy on a lower stair. The King with his retinue drew near. With reverence Frederick kissed the Holy Father’s feet and brought him golden tribute as the vicegerent of Christ. Pope Honorius received him graciously with kiss and embrace; the King rose again, and the Pope, with the King on his right hand, moved towards the Chapel of Santa Maria in Turribus. Here Frederick was to take the oath: to be the defender and protector of Pope and Church in every hour of weal or woe. While the Pope proceeded to the altar to pray and then took his seat the King remained behind to be received into the brotherhood of the Canons of St. Peter.
In earlier days it had been the custom to receive the King at his coronation into Holy Orders, and dress him in a priest’s robes. They made him a cleric of the Roman Church, for the standpoint was that in spiritual things the Emperor “could not be quite a layman.” The course of history had found expression in a change in the coronation ceremonial; with the growing power of an imperial Papacy the priestly prerogatives of the Emperor were very considerably weakened though not quite eliminated.
The Emperor no longer received a bishop’s ring, he was no longer anointed on the head but only on the arm and between the shoulder blades; no longer was chrism used for his anointing, simple consecrated oil was considered good enough; instead of the consecration as bishop there was substituted this reception into the brotherhood of the Canons of St. Peter. The ritual of prayer and litany remained nevertheless very similar to a bishop’s. Clad in the imperial vestments Frederick now entered St. Peter’s through the silver gate, where cardinals met him with blessing and prayer. He halted to do reverence at Peter’s tomb and in front of the tomb of St. Maurice he was anointed by a cardinal. Not till this was accomplished did he advance to the altar of Peter to make confession and receive from the Pope the kiss of peace. Then with his retinue he sought his appointed place. The Pope rehearsed the prayer, adding a special intercession for the King, whereupon Frederick approached the Pope to receive the insignia. The Pope crowned him with mitre and with crown, and thereupon handed him the sword which Frederick was lustily to brandish three times to show that he was now a miles Beati Petri, after which he received sceptre and imperial orb. The choir now burst into song: “To Frederick ever glorious, of the Romans the unconquered Emperor, be Life and Victory!” The coronation of Queen Constance was completed in corresponding style. High Mass followed, in which the Emperor, laying aside crown and mantle, ministered as subdeacon to the Pope. Then he and the Empress received the communion at the Pope’s hands and finally the papal kiss of peace. The Pope then pronounced the blessing and with the Emperor quitted St. Peter’s to mount his horse outside the cathedral. Frederick held the Pope’s stirrup and led him a few paces forward before mounting his own white horse. At Santa Maria Transpadina Pope and Emperor parted after exchanging one more embrace, and Frederick returned to his camp at Monte Mario.
At his coronation Emperor Frederick had once more taken the Cross—from the hand of Cardinal Hugo of Ostia, later Pope Gregory IX—and had promised to proceed to the Holy Land in August 1221. Further, he issued a number of new laws: first and foremost an edict against heretics, and another which laid down the indissoluble connection between the ban of the Church and the ban of the Empire. Bologna was the only one of the Italian towns which he had visited on his journey south; he now commanded the doctors and students of the “Holy Laws” to enter his new coronation laws in the codices of Roman Law and to incorporate them for ever in their teaching. The coronation laws were in fact embodied in the Corpus, following immediately on the laws of Barbarossa; Frederick and his grandfather being the only two German Emperors whose names are immortalised in Roman Law.
All the coronation solemnities and festivities went off without disturbance—a very rare phenomenon. For there was usually serious friction between the imperial troops and the citizens of Rome. Barbarossa had had to be crowned in secret, and pitched battles had accompanied the coronation of Otto IV, for both of them had refused the usual largesse to the Romans. A similar parsimony would have been wholly out of character in Frederick’s case. Moreover, he considered himself as the chosen of the Romans despatched by them to Germany to seek his imperium. He had not less pride or independence than his predecessors, but he scorned to raise a protest against stirrup-ceremonies or coronation gifts or mere material costs. He reserved his fighting powers for larger issues.
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Immediately after the coronation Frederick turned to Sicily. He felt the lure of Sicily partly because it was his home, but even more because it offered to his hand the raw material for his statesmanship. Here he could fashion what he would. Germany had denied him all opportunity. Every step he took in Germany had in one way or another to be accommodated to the princes’ wishes; he could not stir a finger in any direction without coming up against some constitutional obstacle. The feudal system excluded all immediacy of the overlord. These formalities and obstacles were deep-rooted in the customs of centuries; they could not be altered without immense revolutions. So Frederick could draw on the strength of Germany only in a very limited degree; her constitution, though anything but perfected, was too set and well established. She could serve him only to the same extent and in the same manner as she had served innumerable Emperors before him, but it would be far too great a risk to depend on her alone for support in any far-reaching measure.
Conditions in Sicily were more favourable. The Norman kings had only held Sicily for two or three generations. Frederick’s grandfather, King Roger II, had wrought indeed with great intensity and a wisdom and statesmanship amounting to genius, but all that he had built up had been shattered beyond recognition in nearly thirty years of uninterrupted war and strife. During Frederick’s childhood it had been the scene of anarchy and confusion. After his long absence Frederick found now the same picture of woeful ruin and neglect that he had left behind him. Chaos reigned in Sicily, but chaos pregnant with possibilities of every kind. Everything was in movement, and for decades all the various forces of the known world had tossed and tumbled there. The real statesman can only reach his full stature in fluid circumstances—all great men have needed revolutions—and this very chaos offered the most favourable possible conditions without the fear of organised opposition. Another point: for an Emperor who wished effectively to play the Roman Imperator, Sicily, from her geographical position, offered the required basis of power. The three great Hohenstaufen Emperors all turned persistently to Sicily precisely because they knew exactly what Sicily had to offer that Germany denied. In the time of the Crusaders Sicily was in fact the “port and navel of all the kingdoms of the world,” just as Spain was to be in the age of discovery. As Charles V was one day to take Holland for his northern base and make Germany an Atlantic state, the Hohenstaufen was now to create a Mediterranean state including Swabia and south Germany.
Frederick’s personal affection for Sicily is undeniable and in the given conditions was pure advantage. But he loved it also because he needed it. It is characteristic that this affection was not chiefly directed to the luxuriant half-tropical Palermo, which he never visited in the latest years at all, but Apulia, Campania and the Capitanata, the provinces marching with the States of the Church, and the territories nearest to Roma caput mundi.
The data in North and South were radically different; so was Frederick’s method of approach. In Germany Frederick had set free all the cosmopolitan forces he could, to fuse Germany into the Roman Empire. In Sicily, on the other hand, there was cosmopolitanism enough and to spare, and no fear of stagnation. Sicily was more likely to tear herself to pieces from over-vitality, and Frederick had to tame and bind those very forces which he had sought to loose in Germany. Thus ultimately the two kingdoms would be drawn together and each would in its own way be “romanised.” The sensitive and educative statesmanship of Fr
ederick was so successful that Germany in his day gave birth to a plastic art and—for the first time since the days of her tyrants—song was heard again in Sicily. In both cases these periods of artistic creation were the product of incomparably daring, almost foolhardy, experiments which none but a master, and he for a limited period, could have dared to try.
The Sicilians had been anticipating the Emperor’s arrival with justifiable anxiety; for almost all had at one time or another betrayed the boy king. A number of the Sicilian barons appeared already at the coronation in Rome to do homage to Frederick and draw, as far as possible, a veil over the past. Frederick had carefully and thoughtfully planned every step beforehand, and had even begun his preparations during his years in Germany. They well might have divined from one straw or another how the wind was blowing. One of the usurpers, Count Rainer of Manente, who was reputed to have on one occasion attempted Frederick’s life, had rashly entered Germany and approached the King without a safe conduct. Frederick secured his person. It is true that, at the Pope’s request, he ultimately released his prisoner, but the Count was made to disgorge the entire crown property which he had appropriated and which his relations with the help of bandit allies sought to retain. The fact also that on his march through Upper Italy Frederick granted no privileges relating to Sicily, indicated well-defined plans. His first aim was to bring together again all the crown property which had been scattered and squandered by each temporary wielder of power. His second to eradicate all the little nests of secondary powers dotted over his kingdom and so to establish a central government once more. With all his fiery lust for action (which Pope Honorius mentions, more in blame than praise) Frederick II set himself to his task.
Frederick the Second Page 14
