one. Perhaps the factions there were fiercer, and the contest more
prolonged, than elsewhere; but the same causes were at work in other
Italian cities, and were attended with results similar in character,
if differing in intensity. In Lucca, for instance, in 1051, we
find Leo IX., when confirming the possessions of the canons of the
cathedral church of St. Martin, expressing the hope that God would
liberate them from their married priests, who dissipated the property
of the foundation, while utterly unworthy of partaking of the divine
oblation.[530] His desire that they would live in concord and harmony
with their bishop was, however, not destined to be long gratified. When
St. Anselmo, in 1073, accepted the episcopate at the urgent request of
his friend, Gregory VII., he labored for years to reform the dissolute
lives of his clergy, until at length finding threats and expostulations
alike ineffectual, he implored the intervention of the Countess
Matilda. Even the sovereign of Tuscany was unable to accomplish the
submission of the recalcitrant ecclesiastics, and in 1074 St. Anselmo
took advantage of the presence of Gregory VII. in the city to invoke
his interposition. The resolute pope, finding his personal efforts
fruitless, summoned the offenders to trial before a court of bishops,
presided over by the celebrated Pietro Igneo, Bishop of Albano.
Being condemned and excommunicated, they resisted by force of arms,
excited a rebellion in the city, drove out St. Anselmo, and joined the
imperialists; and when, in 1081, Guiberto the anti-pope came to Italy,
he consecrated their leader, a subdeacon named Pietro, as bishop, in
place of the exiled martyr.[531] In Piacenza, the schismatics were
guilty of excesses more deplorable, for, not content with deposing
Bonizo, who had been set over them as bishop, they gave him the fullest
honors of martyrdom by plucking out his eyes and then cutting him to
pieces.[532] Similar troubles occurred in Parma, Modena, Reggio, and
Pistoia, and it was not until the death of their respective schismatic
bishops that the Countess Matilda was able to recover her authority in
those places.
XIV.
HILDEBRAND.
Alexander II. died April 21st, 1073, and within twenty-four hours the
Archdeacon Hildebrand was elected as his successor—a promptitude and
unanimity which showed the general recognition of his fitness for the
high office. For more than twenty years he had been the power behind
the throne which had directed and given purpose to the policy of Rome,
and the assertion of his biographers that his disinclination for the
position had alone prevented his previous elevation may readily be
believed. Whether he was forced on the present occasion to assent
to the choice of the conclave, against his earnest resistance, is,
however, more problematical.
Hildebrand was the son of a poor carpenter of Soano, and had been
trained in the ascetic monachism of Cluny. Gifted by nature with
rare sagacity, unbending will, and indomitable spirit, imbued with
the principles of the False Decretals, and firmly believing in the
wildest pretensions of ecclesiastical supremacy, he had conceived
a scheme of hierarchical autocracy, which he regarded not only as
the imprescriptible right of the church, but also as the perfection
of human institutions. To the realization of this ideal he devoted
his life with a fiery zeal and unshaken purpose that shrank from no
obstacles, and to it he was ready to sacrifice not only the men who
stood in his path, but also the immutable principles of truth and
justice. All considerations were as dross compared with the one object,
and his own well-being and life were ventured as recklessly as the
peace of the world.
Such a man could comprehend the full importance of the rule of
celibacy, not alone as essential to the ascetic purity of the church,
but as necessary to the theocratic structure which he proposed to
elevate on the ruins of kingdoms and empires. The priest must be a
man set apart from his fellows, consecrated to the one holy purpose,
reverenced by the world as a being superior to human passions and
frailties, devoted, soul and body, to the interests of the church, and
distracted by no temporal cares and anxieties foreign to the welfare
of the great corporation of which he was a member. We have seen the
strenuous efforts which, for a quarter of a century, successive
pontiffs had unceasingly made to accomplish this reform, and we have
also seen how fruitlessly those efforts were expended on the passive
or active resistance of the priesthood. When Hildebrand took the reins
into his vigorous grasp, the change at once became manifest, and the
zeal of his predecessors appears lukewarm by comparison. He had had
ample leisure to note how inefficient was the ordinary machinery to
accomplish the result, and he hesitated not to call to his assistance
external powers; to give to the secular princes authority over
ecclesiastics at which enthusiastic churchmen stood aghast, and to
risk apparently the most precious immunities of the church to secure
the result. The end proved his wisdom, for the power delegated to the
laity for a special object was readily recalled, after it had served
its purpose, and the rebellious clerks were subdued and rendered fit
instruments in the lapse of time for humiliating their temporary
masters. In one respect, however, Hildebrand’s policy proved a
blunder. The faithful readily submitted to the restoration of clerical
immunity, but the idea that ecclesiastics forfeited their privileges
by sin became a favorite one with almost all heretics, as we shall see
hereafter in the case of the Albigenses, Waldenses, Wickliffites, and
Hussites, costing the church many a desperate struggle.
To Gregory, as we must hereafter call him, was generally attributed, by
his immediate successors, the honor of introducing, or of enforcing,
the absolute chastity of the ministers of the altar. Some chroniclers
mention Alexander II. or Leo IX. as participating in the struggle, but
to his vigorous management its success was popularly conceded.[533]
He earned the tribute thoroughly, for during his whole pontificate
it seems to have been ever present to his thoughts, and whatever were
his preoccupations in his fearful struggle with the empire, on which
he risked the present and the future of the papacy, he always had
leisure to attend to the one subject in its minutest details and in the
remotest corner of Christendom.
Perhaps in this there may have been an unrecognized motive urging him
to action. Sprung from so humble an origin, he may have sympathized
with the democratic element, which rendered the church the only career
open to peasant and plebeian. He may have felt that this was a source
of hidden power, as binding the populations more closely to the
church, and as enabling it to press into service an unknown amount of
fresh and vigorous talent belonging to men who would owe everything
to the establishment which had raised them from nothingness, and who
would have no relationships to embarrass their devotion. All this
would be lost if, by legalizing marriage, the hereditary transmission
of benefices inevitably resulting should convert the church into a
separate caste of individual proprietors, having only general interests
in common, and lazily luxuriating on the proceeds of former popular
beneficence. To us, retrospectively philosophizing, it further appears
evident that if celibacy were an efficient agent in obtaining for
the church the immense temporal power and spiritual authority which
it enjoyed, that very power and that authority rendered celibacy a
necessity to the welfare of civilization. When even the humblest priest
came to be regarded as a superior being, holding the keys of heaven
in his hand, and by the machinery of confession, absolution, and
excommunication wielding incalculable influence over each member of
his flock, it was well for both parties that the ecclesiastic should
be free from the ties of family and the vulgar ambition of race. It
is easy to see how the churchmen could have selected matrimonial
alliances of the most politic and aggrandizing character; and as
possession of property and hereditary transmission of benefices would
have necessarily followed on the permission to marry, an ecclesiastical
caste, combining temporal and spiritual power in the most dangerous
excess, would have repeated in Europe the distinctions between the
Brahman and Sudra of India. The perpetual admission of self-made men
into the hierarchy, which distinguished the church even in times of
the most aristocratic feudalism, was for ages the only practical
recognition of the equality of man, and was one of the most powerful
causes at work during the Middle Ages to render rational liberty
eventually possible with advancing civilization. Looking therefore
upon the church as an instrumentality to effect certain beneficent
results in the course of human improvement, we may regard celibacy as a
necessary element of sacerdotalism, the abolition of which would have
required the entire destruction of the papal system and the fundamental
reconstruction of ecclesiastical institutions.
What we may now readily discern to have been a means, to Gregory,
however, was an end, and to the enforcement of celibacy as necessary
to that object he devoted himself with unrelenting vigor. The belief
that he was appointed of God, and set apart for the task of cleansing
the church of the Nicolitan heresy which had defied his predecessors is
well illustrated by the contemporary legend of some pious Pisans, who,
spending the night before his election in prayer in the basilica of St.
Peter, saw that holy saint himself traverse the church accompanied by
Hildebrand, whom he commanded to gather some droppings of mares with
which the sacred edifice was defiled, to place them in a sack, and
to carry them out on his shoulders.[534] The severe austerity of his
virtue, moreover, was displayed by his admirers in the story that once,
when dangerously ill, his niece came to inquire as to his health. To
relieve her anxiety he played with her necklace, and jestingly asked if
she wished to be married; but on his recovery he found that he could
no longer weep with due contrition over his sins, and that he had lost
the grace of repentance. He long and vainly searched for the cause, and
finally entreated his friends to pray for him, when the Virgin appeared
to one of them, and sent word to Gregory that he had fallen from grace
in consequence of the infraction of his vows committed in touching the
necklace of his niece.[535]
* * * * *
His first movement on the subject appears to have been an epistle
addressed in November, 1073, to Gebhardt Archbishop of Salzburg,
taking him severely to task for his neglect in enforcing the canons
promulgated not long before in Rome, and ordering him to carry them
rigidly into effect among his clergy.[536] This, no doubt, was a
circular letter addressed to all the prelates of Christendom, and it
was but a preliminary step. Early in Lent of the next year (March,
1074), he held his first synod, which adopted a canon prohibiting
sacerdotal marriage, ordering that no one in future should be admitted
to orders without a vow of celibacy, and renewing the legislation of
Nicholas II. which commanded the people not to attend the ministrations
of those whose lives were a violation of the rule.[537] There was
nothing in the terms of this more severe than what had been decreed in
innumerable previous councils—indeed, it was by no means as threatening
as many decretals of recent date; but Gregory was resolved that it
should not remain, like them, a mere protest, and he took immediate
measures to have it enforced wherever the authority of Rome extended.
The controversy as respects Italy has already been so fully described
that to dilate upon it further would be superfluous. Even though
Alexander II. in his later years had shrunk somewhat from the contest,
yet from Naples to the Tyrol the question was thoroughly understood,
and its results depended more upon political revolutions than on
ecclesiastical exertions. Beyond the Alps, however, the efforts of
preceding popes had thus far proved wholly nugatory, and on this field
Gregory now bent all his energies. The new canon was sent to all the
bishops of Europe, with instructions to promulgate it throughout their
respective dioceses, and to see that it was strictly obeyed; while
legates were sent in every direction to support these commands with
their personal supervision and exertion.[538]
That the course which Gregory thus adopted was essentially different
from that pursued by his predecessors is amply attested by the furious
storm which these measures aroused. The clergy protested in the most
energetic terms that they would rather abandon their calling than their
wives; they denounced Gregory as a madman and a heretic, who expected
to compel men to live as angels, and who in his folly, while denying to
natural affection its accustomed and proper gratification, would open
the door to indiscriminate licentiousness; and they tauntingly asked
where, when he should have driven them from the priesthood, he expected
to find the angels who were to replace them.[539] Even those who
favored celibacy condemned the means adopted as injudicious, contrary
to the canons, and leading to scandals more injurious to the church
than the worst of heresies.[540] Gregory paid little heed to threats
or remonstrances, but sent legate after legate to accuse the bishops
of their inertness, and to menace them with deposition if they should
neglect to carry out the canon to the letter, and he accompanied these
measures with others of even more practically efficient character.
The bishops, in fact, were placed in a most embarrassing position,
which may be understood from the adventures of three prelates, who
took different positions with regard to the wishes of Gregory—Otho of
Constance, who leaned to the side of the clergy; St. Altmann of Passau,
who was an enthusiastic papalist; and Siegfrid of Mainz, who was a
trimmer afraid of both parties.
To Otho, Gregory, in 1074, sent the canons of the synod inhibiting
marriage and simony, with orders to use every exertion to secure
the compliance of his clergy. Otho apparently did not manifest much
eagerness to undertake the unpopular task, and Gregory lost little
time in calling him to account. Before the year expired, we find the
pope addressing a second epistle to the bishop, angrily accusing him
of disobedience in permitting the ministration of married priests,
and summoning him to answer for his contumacy at a synod to be held
in Rome during the approaching Lent. Nor was this all, for at the
same time he wrote to the clergy and people of the diocese, informing
them of the disobedience of their bishop and of his summons to trial,
commanding them, in case of his persistent rebellion, to no longer
obey or reverence him as bishop, and formally releasing them from all
subjection to him. Otho doubtless considered it imprudent to show
himself at the synod of 1075; consequently in that of 1076 he was
excommunicated and deprived of his episcopal functions. During the
autumn of the same year, however, the legate Altmann of Passau restored
him to communion at Ulm, but without granting him the privilege of
officiating. Otho disregarded this restriction, and not only persisted
in exercising his functions, but openly favored and protected the
married clergy. For this Gregory absolved his flock from all obedience
to him, whereupon Otho abandoned the Catholic party and formally
joined the imperialists, who were then engaged in the effort to depose
Gregory. From some motives of policy, the pope granted the hardened
sinner three years for repentance, at the expiration of which, in 1080,
he sent Altmann to Constance to superintend the election of another
bishop. The new incumbent, however, proved incapable through bodily
infirmity; and, in 1084, Otto of Ostia was sent to Constance, and under
his auspices Gebhardt was elected bishop, and duly consecrated in
1085.[541] Evidently Gregory was not a man to abandon his purpose, and
those who opposed him could not count upon perpetual immunity.
St. Altmann of Passau was renowned for his piety and the strictness
of his religious observance. When the canon of 1074 reached him, he
assembled his clergy, read it to them, and adjured them to pay to it
the respect which was requisite. His eloquence was wasted; the clerks
openly refused obedience, and defended themselves by immemorial custom,
and by the fact that none of their predecessors had been called upon
to endure so severe and unnatural a regulation. Finding the occasion
unpropitious, the pious Altmann dissembled; he assured his clergy that
he was perfectly willing to indulge them if the papal mandate would
permit it, and with this he dismissed them. He allowed the matter
to lie in abeyance until the high feast of St. Stephen, the patron
saint of the church, which was always attended by the magnates of the
diocese. Then, without giving warning of his intentions, he suddenly
mounted the pulpit, read to the assembled clergy and laity the letters
of the pope, and threatened exemplary punishment for disobedience.
Though thus taken at advantage and by surprise, the clerks were not
disposed to submit. A terrible tumult at once arose, and the crafty
saint would have been torn to pieces had it not been for the strenuous
interference of the nobles, aided, as his biographer assures us, by the
assistance of God. The clergy continued their resistance, and when,
not long after, the empire and papacy became involved in internecine
strife, they sought the protection of Henry IV., who marched upon
Passau, and drove out St. Altmann and his faction. How unbending was
this opposition, and how successfully it was maintained, is manifest
from the fact that when St. Altmann at length returned to his diocese
as papal legate, about the year 1081, even Gregory felt it necessary
to use policy rather than force, and instructed him to yield to the
pressure of the evil times, and to reserve the strict enforcement of
the reform for a more fortunate period.[542] The political question had
thus, for the moment, overshadowed the religious one.
The archiepiscopate of Mainz was, both temporally and spiritually,
one of the most powerful of the ecclesiastical principalities of
Germany. To the Archbishop Siegfrid, Gregory sent the canon of 1074
with instructions similar to those contained in his epistle to Otho
of Constance. In reply, Siegfrid promised implicit obedience; but,
recognizing the almost insuperable difficulties of the task assigned
him, he temporized, and gave his clergy six months in which to make up
their minds, exhorting them to render willing obedience and relieve
him from the necessity of employing coercion. At the expiration of the
period, in October, 1074, he assembled a synod at Erfurt, where he
boldly insisted that they should give up their wives or abandon their
functions and their benefices. Their arguments and entreaties were
in vain. Finding him immovable, they retired for consultation, when
some proposed to separate and return home at once, without further
parley, and thus elude giving sanction to the new regulations; while
bolder spirits urged that it would be better to put the archbishop to
instant death, before he could promulgate so execrable a decree, thus
leaving for posterity a shining example, which would prevent any of his
successors from attempting so abominable an enterprise.
Siegfrid’s friends advised him of the turn which affairs were likely
to take. He therefore sent to his clergy a request that they would
reassemble in synod, promising that he would take the first opportunity
to apply to Rome for a relaxation of the canon. They agreed to this,
and, on meeting them the next day, Siegfrid astutely started the
question of his claims on the Thuringian tithes, which had shortly
before been settled by the Saxon war. Indignant at this, the Thuringian
clergy raised a tumult, flew to arms, and the synod broke up in
the utmost confusion. In December, Gregory wrote to the shuffling
archbishop an angry letter, reproaching him with his lukewarmness in
the cause, and ordering him to present himself at the synod announced
for the coming Lent. Siegfrid obediently went to Rome, but was with
difficulty admitted to communion. What promises he made to obtain it
were not kept, for again in September, 1075, Gregory addressed him with
commands to enforce the canons. Stimulated by this, Siegfrid convoked
a synod at Mainz in October, where the Bishop of Coire appeared with
a papal mandate threatening him with degradation and expulsion if he
failed in compelling the priests to abandon either their wives or
their ministry. Thus goaded, Siegfrid did his best, but the whole body
of the clergy raised such a clamor and made demonstrations so active
and so formidable that the archbishop saw little prospect of escaping
with life. The danger from his mutinous flock was more instant and
pressing than that from the angry pope; his resolution gave way, and
he dissolved the synod, declaring that he washed his hands of the
affair, and that Gregory might deal as he saw fit with a matter which
was beyond his power to control. Thus placed between the upper and the
nether millstone, it is not to be wondered at if Siegfrid took refuge
in the party of the imperialists, nor that his name stands at the head
of the list of bishops who in 1076 passed judgment on Gregory, and
pronounced that he had forfeited all claim to the papacy; neither is
it surprising that Gregory lost no time in excommunicating him at the
Roman synod of the same year.[543]
These examples are sufficient to illustrate the difficulties with
which Gregory had to contend, and the manner in which he endeavored
to overcome them. The incidents are by no means exceptional, and his
marvellous vigor and energy in supervising the movement everywhere,
encouraging the zealous co-worker and punishing the lukewarm
and indifferent, are abundantly attested by his correspondence.
He apparently had an eye on every corner of Europe, and lost no
opportunity of enforcing his views with threats or promises, as the
case might seem to demand.[544]
It did not take long, however, to convince him that he could count
upon no efficient assistance from the hierarchy, and that if the
church was to be purified, it must be purified from without, and not
from within. To the unutterable horror of those strict churchmen who
regarded the immunity from all temporal supervision or jurisdiction
as one of the most precious of ecclesiastical privileges, he took, as
early as 1074, the decided and unprecedented step of authorizing the
laity to withdraw their obedience from all prelates and priests who
disregarded the canons of the Holy See on the subjects of simony and
incontinence.[545] This principle, once adopted, was followed up with
his customary unalterable resolution. In October, 1074, he wrote to a
certain Count Albert, exhorting him not to mind what the simoniacal
and concubinary priests might say, but, in spite of them, to persist
in enforcing the orders which emanated from Rome. Still more menacing
was an epistle addressed in January, 1075, to Rodolf, Duke of Swabia,
and Bertolf, Duke of Carinthia, commanding them—“whatever the bishops
may say or may not say concerning this, do you in no manner receive
the ministrations of those who owe promotion or ordination to simony,
or whom you know to be guilty of concubinage ... and, as far as you
can, do you prevent, by force if necessary, all such persons from
officiating. And if any shall presume to prate and say that it is not
your business, tell them to come to us and dispute about the obedience
which we thus enjoin upon you”—and adding a bitter complaint of the
archbishops and bishops who, with rare exceptions, had taken no steps
to put an end to these execrable customs, or to punish the guilty.[546]