peace had been sworn to assumed the friendliest character. On the day
after his entry into Venice Frederick visited him in the palace of the
Patriarch, and we are told that the conversation was not only
amicable, but gay, and that the Emperor returned to the Doge's palace
in the best of moods.

A year after the congress at Venice the antipope--Calixtus III had
succeeded Paschal in 1168 without in any way altering the complexion
of affairs--made a humble submission to Alexander at Tusculum.
Therewith the schism ended, and a year later, in 1179, Alexander held
a great council in the Lateran, where it was decreed that a two-thirds
majority in the college of cardinals was necessary to make valid the
choice of a pope. There was no mention of the clergy and people of
Rome, none of the right of confirmation on the part of the Emperor.

It was not to be supposed that Frederick would ever forgive that act
of Henry the Lion by which the whole aspect of the war in Italy had
been changed. Yet it is probable that technically Henry had committed
no offence against the Empire; for no charge of desertion or
"_herisliz_," as refusal to do military service was called, or even of
neglect of feudal duties, was ever brought against him. He probably
possessed some privilege, like that bestowed on Henry Jasomirgott,
rendering it optional with him to accompany the Emperor on expeditions
out of Germany.

But the circumstances had been so exceptional, so much had hung in the
balance at the time of Frederick's appeal for aid, that no one can
blame the Emperor for now letting Henry feel the full weight of his
displeasure. Nor was an occasion lacking by which his ruin might be
accomplished. For years the Saxon nobles and bishops had writhed under