CHAPTER IX

EPILOGUE

“ALL precepts concerning kings are in effect comprehended in those two remembrances: Memento quod es homo, and Memento quod es Deus, or vice Dei.” Of these two mottos, writes Francis Bacon in his essay Of Empire, the first bridles the power and the other the will of princes who, in other respects, appeared “like to heavenly bodies, which cause good or evil times, and which have much veneration, but no rest.”1

Bacon’s first “remembrance” should not be mistaken for the famous Camaldolite motto Memento mori which, especially in connection with its artistic symbol, the skull, had a singular appeal to the religious sentiment of the later Middle Ages. Memento quod es homo is not of monastic origin, but descended from classical Antiquity; and Francis Bacon could not have been ignorant of its proper Roman setting. When, on the day of his triumph, the victorious Roman imperator rolled on the chariot drawn by four white horses from the Campus Martius to the Capitol—a living god clothed in the embroidered purple toga of Jupiter Capitolinus, in his hand the eagle sceptre of the god, and his face painted red with cinnabar—the slave riding with him on the chariot and holding the golden wreath over his head, whispered to him: “Look behind thee. Remember thou art a man.”²

This, apparently, was the scene to which Bacon’s first motto alluded. His other remembrance may have referred to Psalm 81:6, “Ye are gods,” a versicle very much to the taste of political writers in the age of absolutism and most certainly to that of James I, who quoted it and gave his own interpretation of it in great detail.³ Bacon’s dialectical combination of these two mottos is skilful, but not really surprising. Others expressed similar ideas in those days,4 and the antithesis itself implies no more than just another variety of a theme on which Bacon fell back quite frequently: the king a mortal being, and yet immortal with regard to his Dignity and his Body politic. Bacon’s allusion, however, to the ancient Roman custom of whispering a Memento to the triumphant general in the moment when he acted as the deus praesens, may be a “remembrance” to us that a final question should at least be broached here, a question which has loomed more than once in the foregoing pages: Has the late-mediaeval juristic concept and constitutional figure of speech, the King’s Two Bodies, in any respect classical antecedents or parallels? Is there a classical pagan parentage of the metaphor? Or, more succinctly and more crudely, is the concept of the King’s Two Bodies of pagan or of Christian origin?

The answer is that there are indeed certain features suggesting that the dichotomous concept of rulership might have had roots in classical Antiquity.⁵ The doctrine of capacities—that is, the plain distinction between a man and his office (or offices)—was certainly not beyond the imagination of classical thinkers. We do not have to look for such extreme cases as might be detected in the monarchies of the ancient Near East.⁶ It will suffice here to recall Alexander the Great who, according to Plutarch, distinguished between a friend of Alexander (ϕιλαλέξανδρος) and a friend of the king (ϕιλοβασιλεύς).7 It is not even impossible that this remark was inspired ultimately by Aristotle, who, in the Politics, made a clear distinction between the friends of the prince and the friends of the princedom.⁸ Moreover, we may recall what Seneca said about the pilot of a ship.

Duas personas habet gubernator—Two persons are combined in the pilot: one he shares with all his fellow-passengers, for he also is a passenger; the other is peculiar to him, for he is the pilot. A storm harms him as a passenger, but it harms him not as a pilot.⁹

Here, at any rate, the principle of “gemination” is put forth in so many words, and it is quite likely that, for a conclusion de similibus ad similia, this passage may have been used also by one of the mediaeval jurists who all liked to quote Seneca for their special purposes.¹⁰

Related ideas with regard to kingship had been advanced independently by the so-called Neo-Pythagorean writers “On Kingship” whose works have been handed down to us fragmentarily by Stobaeus. In a fragment bearing the name of Ecphantus, the author explains that the king in his earthly tabernacle (that is, in the flesh) is like the rest of mankind; as a king, however, he is the copy of the “supreme Artificer who, when fashioning the king, used himself as an archetype.”11 This author was, after Stobaeus had been edited and translated into Latin during the first half of the sixteenth century, not without influence on the political theorists of absolutism.¹² By the end of the century, Jacques de La Guesle, Procureur général of the Crown, worked into his solemn speeches before the French Parlement long passages from Ecphantus, including the passage quoted here.¹³ The latter was used also, though in the guise of a quotation from Agapetus,¹⁴ by Archbishop James Ussher in a tractate handling Of the Power Communicated by God to the Prince, which originally he intended to dedicate to Charles I.¹⁵ In another Pythagorean tractate, likewise transmitted by Stobaeus and quoted by absolutists, the author, Diotogenes, declared that the king, “who has an absolute rulership and is himself the animate Law, has been metamorphosed into a deity among men.”16 A metamorphosis of the king was not unknown in mediaeval political thought either, even though this doctrine was inspired not by Pythagorean theorists, but by the Old Testament. One could, however, almost believe that one is hearing Diotogenes—or Sthenidas of Locri,¹⁷ another author of the same school—in the words of the Norman Anonymous, saying:

We have to recognize [in the king] a twin person, one descending from nature, the other from grace …; one through which, by the condition of nature, he conformed with other men: another through which by the eminence of [his] deification and by the power of the sacrament [of consecration], he excelled all others.¹⁸

Admittedly, the Norman Anonymous would claim that his king was metamorphosed by the power of Grace which “leaps” into him at his consecration; whereas the Pythagoreans claimed that the metamorphosis was the result of the king’s mimesis, his imitation of the godhead. Grace and mimesis, however, are not mutually exclusive, since Grace (at least in this connection) is the power enabling man to be, or act as, the “image of God.”¹⁹

The antique problem of royal duplication becomes increasingly complex and involved once we include certain cultual aspects and feel inclined to “equiparate” the king’s Body politic, in one way or another, with the divinity of Hellenistic kings and Roman emperors. Would it be permissible to say that in Antiquity the immortal super-body of the ruler coincided with his supposedly divine nature? Certainly the duplication of human and divine natures in one man was an idea not at all foreign to classical thought: Herodotus praised those Greek cities which devoted two cults to Heracles, “sacrificing to one Heracles as to an immortal and calling him the Olympian, but bringing offerings to the other as to a dead hero.”²⁰ Heracles, of course, was a mythical figure; but there is no dearth of historical equivalents. What, for instance, did it imply when King Philip II of Macedonia took his seat in the theatre at Aigai, while in solemn procession the images of the Twelve Gods were carried into the theatre with the image of Philip added to their number as that of the Thirteenth?21 Was, in that case, the king in his body natural seated in his royal box (in which, incidentally, this natural body was murdered), whereas in his body politic, or the equivalent thereof, he was displayed on the couches prepared for the deities? Strange situations could easily arise in imperial Rome. Gods who themselves offered sacrifices, were not at all unheard of in Antiquity;²² but it is more perplexing to find Roman emperors in a somewhat similar attitude. As early as 7 B.C. altars were dedicated in Rome to the genius of Augustus, and for the cultual functions at the ara numinis Augusti a very noble college of priests was instituted.²³ Hence, in his capacity of Pontifex Maximus, the emperor could offer sacrifices and also receive them, could be at once offerer and recipient of offerings.²⁴ Caligula, according to Suetonius, went so far as to dedicate a temple with priests to his own numen and to put up within the shrine his golden cult statue which was clad daily with the same clothes as were worn, on that day, by the emperor himself²⁵—indeed a perfect, though a rather baffling, form of duplication. What it all implied was an “objectification” of the ruler’s persona publica. This is true also for the obligation to deliver the oath in court by the τύχη, the genius of the emperor (a custom observed from Domitian until well beyond the time of Justinian); consequently, it could, and did, happen that a subject had to swear an oath by the Emperor to be loyal to the emperor.26

While there is no doubt that these are features vaguely related to the later objectification of the king’s immortal body politic, the differences are at least as great as the similarities. After all, the genius or numen of an emperor, though an object of public worship, was not separated from the individual but was still an immanent component of the individual human being. It would, therefore, be difficult to maintain that the emperor became the instrumentum numinis or genii in the sense in which the late-mediaeval Prince became the instrumentum Dignitatis and the incarnation of his immortal office. Yet, “incarnation” as well as “instrumentality” likewise were within the compass of ancient ruler cults.

Instead of worshipping the numen or genius of an individual emperor, the ruler could be identified with an existing and recognized deity which he represented as a novus Hercules, a novus Sol. Caligula, it is true, was ridiculed because he consecrated himself to his own service as Jupiter Latiaris—αὐτὸς ἑαυτῳ̂ ἱερα̂το, as Cassius Dio expressed it.²⁷ Gallienus carried his identity with the goddess Ceres to curious extremes when on coins he not only displayed his bristle-bearded portrait with the attribute of the goddess, the crown of corn-ears, but also surrounded it with the telling inscription GALLIENAE AUGUSTAE.²⁸ Other features have to be taken more seriously. When, in the third century, Diocletian established the Tetrarchy and therewith the “Jovian” and “Herculean” dynasties, the multiplicity of genii was difficult to disentangle, because “the Genius of each emperor, itself divine and an object of worship, was declared to be the very Genius of Jupiter and Hercules themselves.”29 It belonged to the same compound of ideas when a god was recognized as the comes Augusti, the perpetual companion of an emperor,³⁰ whereby the genius Augusti and the god became almost indistinguishable, as a number of coins may easily prove. Postumus issued a coin which by means of jugate busts combined the profiles of the emperor and of Hercules—a Hercules, to wit, whose features were so strongly assimilated to those of his human-imperial double that the image unfailingly suggested “twinship” or some kind of identity of the god and the ruler (fig. 32a).³¹ The same is true for the jugate busts of Probus and SOL COMES PROBI AUGUSTI, the emperor’s unconquered companion, that is, the Sun god whose head with upright rays appears like a mirage behind the helmeted head of Probus (fig. 32b).³² It should be stressed, however, that it was not the emperor’s features that were idealized to match those of his divine companion but the features of the god that were formed to appear as a likeness, or a super-face, of the individual emperor. This assertion is borne out strikingly by coinages of Constantine the Great in which the same SOL INVICTUS COMES has changed his features so completely that the god now appears as though “created in the own image of Constantine” (figs. 32d-f).³³ We recognize a gemination indicating that some kind of double-being was suggested—a human-divine duplication representing Constantine and Sol invictus as interchangeable magnitudes and displaying the ruler’s human body which is mortal together with his concomitant superbody which, being a god, is immortal and divine.34 Deus imago regis—so we are inclined to think while twisting the Christian maxim of rex imago Dei, a concept responsible also in Christian art for occasional facial similitude between the deity and the ruler, between Christ and his vicar on earth.³⁵

Moreover, when we recall other sets of Roman inscriptions, we seem to close in also on the problem of instrumentality. Ever since late Republican times, the Genius populi Romani was represented on coins: Hercules-like, with sceptre and cornucopiae, his feet on the globe of the world or on the footstool of divinity; or else his head only, “accompanied by sceptre, royal wreath, and globe.”³⁶ In the third century, we find coins in which the emperor himself was hailed as the GENIUS POPULI ROMANI, the incarnation or personification of the eternally productive power of the Roman people.³⁷ Here, then, the emperor may safely be conceived of as an “instrument” of something that was not identical with him and not an immanent component of his own self—indeed, the instrumentum Genii populi Romani and the exponent of an immortal polity “which never dies.” Or, when, in the third century, inscriptions were dedicated, time and again, numini maiestatique, to the emperor’s divine numen and his earthly maiestas, we may remember that it was ultimately the Maiestas populi Romani of which he was the incarnation.³⁸ Nor should we forget that a formulation such as Seneca’s “The Prince is the soul of the res publica; and the res publica, the body of the Prince,” implies, philosophically, a very similar idea—no less “antique” than Cyprian’s “The Church is in the bishop; and the bishop, in the Church.”39

To summarize, it cannot be denied that isolated features are recognizable in classical political philosophy and political theology which would suggest that the substance of the idea of the King’s Two Bodies had been anticipated in pagan Antiquity. Moreover, it sounds plausible enough that one or another of those antique theorems became effective in the High Renaissance when, in addition to the literary sources, the archaeological and numismatic material also became available again. There is no doubt that the classical model occasionally served to rationalize certain phenomena (as, for example, the display of effigies at royal funerals) which had originated and developed from totally different conditions and strata.⁴⁰ It remains, however, more than doubtful whether a summing-up of all the individual classical features of duplications would result in a compact theory comparable to that of the late mediaeval lawyers. For despite all the parallels, similarities, and “antecedents” in classical times, there is nevertheless one detail which would exclude a pagan origin of the Tudor formula from the outset; that is, the concept of the king having two Bodies. There is apparently nothing in pagan thought that would justify this diction, and therefore it has a false ring if, by modern scholars, the Roman emperor is sometimes called a “corporation sole.”⁴¹ It is true, of course, that in Greek philosophy the cosmos, the polis, or the individual could be interpreted each as a body (σω̂μα), and it is true also that St. Paul’s definition of the Church as corpus Christi reflects that philosophy.⁴² On the other hand, however, this aggressive Pauline concept eventually endowed the late antique “corporations” with a philosophico-theological impetus which apparently those bodies were lacking before Constantine the Great referred to the Church as a corpus and thereby introduced that philosophical and theological notion into the language of law.43 Besides, the influence of the corpus Christi doctrine on the interpretation of legal universitates, and thereby also on the mediaeval corporational theories, is a fact to be reckoned with.⁴⁴

It might be possible to argue that the general concept of the Norman Anonymous still drifted in the wake of ancient ruler deification. The tenet, however, of the Tudor jurists definitely hangs upon the Pauline language and its later development: the change from the Pauline corpus Christi to the mediaeval corpus ecclesiae mysticum, thence to the corpus reipublicae mysticum which was equated with the corpus morale et politicum of the commonwealth, until finally (though confused by the notion of Dignitas) the slogan emerged saying that every abbot was a “mystical body” or a “body politic,” and that accordingly the king, too, was, or had, a body politic which “never died.” Notwithstanding, therefore, some similarities with disconnected pagan concepts, the KING’S TWO BODIES is an offshoot of Christian theological thought and consequently stands as a landmark of Christian political theology.

¹ Bacon, Essays, ed. Spedding (Boston, 1860), XII, 146. For the king who has no rest (rex exsomnis), see above, Ch.IV,nos.131,146,167. The passage is quoted by Per Palme, Triumph of Peace: A Study of the Whitehall Banqueting House (Stockholm, 1956), 173, a book to which Professor Erwin Panofsky called my attention.

² Cf. W. Ehlers, “Triumphus,” RE, VIIA:1, 507; Tertullian, Apologeticus, xxxiii,4. That Roman emperors could be very conscious of their “manhood” is demonstrated, not to mention Marcus Aurelius, by Tiberius; see, for his letter to the community of Gytheion, near Sparta, E. Kornemann, Neue Dokumente zum lakonischen Kaiserkult (Breslau, 1926), 7, line 20. My thanks go here, as well as in the following pages, to Professor Andreas Alföldi and the kind interest he took in this brief Epilogue.

³ See James’ “Speech of 1609,” ed. McIlwain, The Political Works of James I (Cambridge, Mass., 1918), 307ff; also Kantorowicz, “Mysteries of State,” 68, n.9, and (for Bossuet) “Deus per naturam,” 274,n.72. Also Ussher (below, n.15), 269, and passim, refers to the Psalm; so do De La Guesle (below, n.13), 42, and innumerable other authors.

⁴ Cf. Palme, Triumph of Peace, 174, quoting from Ben Jonson, A Panegyrie on the Happie Entrance of James, our Soveraigne, to his First High Session of Parliament … 1603, in Poems, ed. B. H. Newdigate (Oxford, 1936), 275ff, esp. 277:

She [Themis] tells him first, that Kings

Are here on earth the most conspicuous things:

That they, by Heaven, are placed upon his throne

To rule like Heaven; and have no more, their owne,

As they are men, then men.

⁵ It is beyond the scope of this study and the competence of its author to review in any detail the classical parallels. But my brief notes might be a stimulant to others to pursue the problem more successfully.

⁶ In Egypt, the representation of the Kα would lead ipso facto to duplication; see, e.g., for Ramses II inaugurating his own sanctuary and worshipping his own image, A. D. Nock, “Σύνναος θεός,” Harvard Studies in Classical Philology, XLI (1930), 14, n.1; also Kantorowicz, “Quinity,” 81f, nos.48ff. Most intriguing is the Egyptian custom sporadically observed of entombing two statues of a dead officer: one, attired with wig and loincloth, in his capacity of a royal officer; and the other one, bald and in a Iong garment, as the “man” that the dead was: cf. Jean Capart, “Some Remarks on the Sheikh El-Beled,” Journal of Egyptian Archaeology, VI (1920), 225-233; also A. Wiedemann, “Ägyptische Religion,” Archiv für Religionswissenschaft, XXI (1922), 457, who calls attention also to occasional double entombments of Egyptian kings. A Roman funus duplex should be admitted in several cases, certainly in those of Pertinax and Septimius Severus, although it was not so general a custom, as Bickermann, “Die römische Kaiserapotheose,” Archiv für Religionswissenschaft, XXIX (1929), 1-34, ingeniously tried to prove; cf. Ernst Hohl, “Die angebliche ‘Doppelbestattung’ des Antoninus Pius,” Klio, XXXI (1938), 169-185. For duplications in Achaemenian seals (King and Ahuramazda), see, e.g., H. P. L’Orange, studies on the Iconography of Cosmic Kingship in the Ancient World (Oslo, 1953), 93, fig.65b.

⁷ Plutarch, Alexander, c.47.

⁸ Aristotle, Politics, III,16,13,1287b; cf. W. L. Newman, The Politics (Oxford, 1887), III,301f. Above, Ch.VII,n.180.

⁹ Seneca, Epistolae, LXXXV,35. The distinction between man and his profession (in the exercise of which man is “playing a certain role”) has been carefully worked out by the physician Scribonius Largus (first century A.D.); cf. Ludwig Edelstein, “The Professional Ethics of the Greek Physician,” Bulletin of the History of Medicine, XXX (1956), 412ff.

¹⁰ The place, actually, was quoted in 1625 by Hugo Grotius, De iure belli ac pacis, II, c.IV, §12 (Amsterdam, 1720), 234; cf. Vassalli, “Fisco,” 205; above, Ch.V,n.230.

¹¹ Goodenough, “The Political Philosophy of Hellenistic Kingship,” Yale Classical Studies, I (1928), 76; Delatte, Traités de la Royauté, 26,2ff, and 47; also 177ff, for a similar fragment by Eurysus. Another related fragment, falsely ascribed to Philo, derives from Agapetus who himself depended on the Neo-Pythagorean treatises; cf. Ševčenko (below, n.14), 145ff, who has dispelled the myth of Philonic authorship.

¹² The editio princeps of Stobaeus was published in Venice, 1535, and the first Latin translation, by C. Gesner, in Zürich, 1543; cf. Delatte, op.cit., 7 and 21.

¹³ Jacques de La Guesle, Les Remonstrances (Paris, 1611), 42 (Remonstrance of 21 July 1588): “La Iustice est la fin de la loy, la loy l’oeuvre du Roy, le Roy l’ouvrage et le chef-d’oeuvre du grand Dieu (cf. Plutarch, Ad principem ineruditum, c.3, 780E). Et combien qu’il ne soit point dissemblable en apparence des autres hommes, comme estant faict et crée de mesme matiere, si est-ce qu’il est fait et fabriqué de ce tres-grand et tres-parfaict artisan, lequel en soy, et sur soy en a pris le modelle.” A few lines later he refers to un certain Pythagoricien. His speech of 1595 actually opens with the words of Ecphantus; cf. the passage quoted by Church, Constitutional Thought, 266,n.54.

¹⁴ Agapetus Diaconus, Capita admonitoria, c.21, PGr, LXXXVI:1,1171A. This chapter, though paraphrased, is taken from Ecphantus; Agapetus betrays also in other passages the influence of the Pythagorean political philosophers. Ever since the 12th century, Agapetus (and, through his agency, Ecphantus) exercised some influence on Russian political theory also, as has been convincingly demonstrated by Ihor Ševčenko, “A Neglected Byzantine Source of Muscovite Political Ideology,” Harvard Slavic Studies, II (1954), 141-179. The first Latin translation of Agapetus seems to be that of 1509 (PGr, LXXXVI: 1,1155ff); a French translation of the Greek was published by Jean Picot, in 1563; and King Louis XIII added a translation from Latin into French (1613). Two English translations were published in the 16th century, the first by Thomas Paynell (ca. 1530); the second, by James Whit (London, 1564), whose work was dedicated to Mary Stuart. (I was able to avail myself of microfilms of both treatises at the Firestone Library, in Princeton.)

¹⁵ See James Ussher, The Whole Works (Dublin, 1864), XI,281. I am grateful to Mrs. Margaret Bentley Ševčenko for calling my attention to Ussher’s numerous quotations from the Neo-Pythagorean tractates.

¹⁶ Goodenough, “Hellenistic Kingship,” 68; Delatte, Traités de la Royauté, 39,10ff; also p.53. That the king holds a rule of which no accounting is to be rendered (άρχάν ἒχων άνυπεύθυνον; Delatte, 140 and 248) must have been grist to the mills of absolutists. Diotogenes was repeatedly quoted by name in the tractate of Ussher, pp.266, 280f, 285.

¹⁷ For Sthenidas, arguing that “God is the first king and ruler by nature, and the king only by becoming and by imitation of God” (Delatte, 45f; cf.56 and 274ff), see my remarks in “Deus per naturam,” 268ff.

¹⁸ Above, Ch.III,n.8.

¹⁹ Kantorowicz, “Deus per naturam,” 274ff.

²⁰ 20 Herodotus, II,44.

²¹ Diodorus, XVI,92,5.

²² Cf. Erika Simon, Opfernde Götter (Berlin, 1953), who has discussed very efficiently the material found in vase paintings. See also S. Eitrem, “Zur Apotheose,” Symbolae Osloenses, XV-XVI (1936), 137, for various examples of “self-worship” (“kultische Ungereimtheiten”).

²³ See D. M. Pippidi, Recherches sur le culte impérial (Paris, 1939), Chapters I, II, and VII; Georg Niebling, “Laribus Augustis Magistri Primi,” Historia, V (1956), 303-331.

²⁴ The Christian version of this duplication, or interaction of divine and human natures, has found its most pointed expression in the Cherubic Hymn, sung in the Eastern Churches at the Great Entrance: “Thou art he that offerest, and art offered; and that acceptest and art distributed.” Cf. F. E. Brightman, Liturgies Eastern and Western (Oxford, 1896), I,318,34; 378,5; 431,6. See above, Ch.III,n.43, and also my remarks, “Quinity,” 83f, for the resulting controversy as well as for the pictorial representations of that duplication.

²⁵ Suetonius, Caligula, 22,3: “Templum etiam numini suo proprium et sacerdotes et excogitissimas hostias instituit. In templo simulacrum stabat aureum iconicum amiciebaturque cotidie veste, quali ipse uteretur.”

²⁶ See E. Seidl, Der Eid im römisch-ägyptischen Provinzialrecht (Münchener Beiträge zur Papyrusforschung, XVII and XXIV [Munich, 1933 and 1935]), I,11ff, and 11,5ff, for the formulae, which show τύχη still invoked under Heraclius I; cf. I,23f, and II,16f. For the oath by the Emperor to the emperor, see Eitrem, “Zur Apotheose” (above, no.22), 137.

²⁷ Cassius Dio, LIX,28,5. See, for the novus praedication, A. D. Nock, “Notes on Ruler-Cult,” Journal of Hellenic Studies, XLVIII (1948), 30ff; and, for the Middle Ages, my remarks in Laudes regiae, 57,n.148, 69,n.15, 74,n.31.

²⁸ A. Alföldi, “Zur Kenntnis der Zeit der römischen Soldatenkaiser,” Zeitschrift für Numismatik, XXXVIII (1928), 174ff, esp. 188ff (see above, Ch.III,n.93); cf. 193ff, for the androgyne hybridism (zweigeschlechtliches Zwitterwesen) expressed by the inscription. See above, Ch.I,n.8, for the jurists on hermaphrodites.

²⁹ Harold Mattingly, in Cambridge Ancient History (Cambridge, 1939), XII,330. Cf. C. H. V. Sutherland, “Flexibility in the ‘Reformed’ Coinage of Diocletian,” Essays in Roman Coinage Presented to Harold Mattingly (Oxford, 1956), 174-189.

³⁰ A. D. Nock, “The Emperor’s Divine Comes,” Journal of Roman Studies, XXXVII (1947), 102-116.

³¹ H. Mattingly and E. A. Sydenham, The Roman Imperial Coinage (Loodon, 1923-33), V:2, pl.XIII, fig.11, also figs.9-10; for a slightly different type, where the similarity is less outspoken, see Alföldi, op.cit., pl.VII,fig.10, who stresses (p.192) “dass ein Doppelwesen gemeint ist”; also Jocelyn M. C. Toynbee, Roman Medallions (New York, 1944), pl.XLVI,fig.8. For the geoeral religious backgrouod of the “jugate heads,” see Hermann Usener, “Zwillingsbildung,” Kleine Schriften (Leipzig and Berlin, 1913), 334ff, esp. 355f, who unfortunately did not discuss the imperial coins.

³² Toynbee, op.cit., pl.II, fig.7.

³³ Cf. Toynbee, op.cit., pl.XVII, fig.11; J. Maurice, Numismatique Constantinienne (Paris, 1908-1912), II,238ff; E. Babelon, “Un nouveau médaillon en or de Constantin le Grand,” Mélanges Boissier (Paris, 1903), 49f; see also Maurice, op.cit., p.236, pl.VII, fig. 14. See further, for Constantinian coins, Alföldi, “The Helmet of Constantine with the Christian Monogram,” Journal of Roman Studies, XXII (1932), pl.II. figs. 15-16. Cf. Kantorowicz, “Quinity,” figs.27-29, and p.82.

³⁴ Less suggestive are certain images on coins of Carus where god and emperor face each other; but the imperial title of deus et dominus, customary by that time (cf. Alföldi, “Insignien,” 92ff), surrounds the two heads as an inscription and tells, in fact, a story similar to that of the numini maiestatique inscriptions of the same period (see below, n.38). For the coin of Carus, cf. Mattingly and Sydenham, op.cit., v:2, pl.VI, fig.13.

³⁵ See above, Ch.III,n.50.

³⁶ Cf. Alföldi, “The Main Aspects of Political Propaganda on the Coinage of the Roman Republic,” Essays … Mattingly (above, n.29), 87, 93f.

³⁷ Alföldi, “Zeremoniell,” 91, and fig.3 (Gallienus); also in Zeitschrift für Numismatik, XXXVIII, pl.VII,fig.1, and p. 192.

³⁸ That the maiestas of the Roman People itself was a continuation of the ancient maiestas of the regal power, is a different matter. The formula of dedication is found indeed very often during the third century; see, e.g., H. Dessau, Inscriptiones Latinae selectae (Berlin, 1916), III:2, p.779, Index, s.v. “N N M QE.” For an example, see Dessau, No.499 (vol.I, p.120): “Imperatori Caesari M. Antonio Gordiano etc. Numisius Quintianus v(ir) p(erfectissimus) ab epistulis Latinis, devotus numini maiestatique eius.” As Professor Alföldi kindly informs me, the formula itself, probably on account of its frequency, has as yet not been made the subject of a special study.

³⁹ Seneca, De dementia, I,5,1; above, Ch.V,n.65, and Ch.VII,n.405, also n.408.

⁴⁰ See above, Ch.VII,nos.372f.

⁴¹ Cf. F. Schultz, Classical Roman Law (Oxford, 1951), 90f: “Adopting the English conception of ‘corporation sole,’ we may simply say that the princeps is a corporation sole.” Cf. p.89, for the statement: “The Roman people is a corporation.”

⁴² For the whole problem, see Arnold Ehrhardt, “Das Corpus Christi und die Korporationen im spät-römischen Recht,” ZfRG., rom.Abt., LXX (1953), 299-347, and LXXI (1954), 25-40.

⁴³ Ehrhardt, op.cit., LXXI, 37-40; also Roberti (see next note), 79f.

⁴⁴ Cf. M. Roberti, “Il corpus mysticum di S. Paolo nella storia della persona giuridica,” Studi in Onore di Enrico Besta (Milan, 1939), IV, 37-82; Tierney, Conciliar Theory, 131ff; also Gierke. Gen.R., III,108ff,111ff.