In the comprehensive efforts, however, made during the later half of

the eleventh century by the Roman church to bring all Christendom under

its domination, the rising states of Spain were not likely to remain

undisturbed in their independent isolation; nor was it to be expected

that so complete a defiance of the canons would be passed unobserved by

the pontiffs who were convulsing the rest of Europe in their efforts

to reform the church. Accordingly, in 1068, we find the Cardinal Hugo

of Silva Candida, as legate of Alexander II., assembling a council

at Girona, and procuring the adoption of a regulation reducing to

the condition of laymanship all who, in holy orders, either entered

into matrimony or kept concubines; while those who should dismiss

their wives were promised immunity for the past and security for the

future.[754] In 1077, Gregory VII. sent a certain Bishop Amandus as

his legate, with an epistle addressed to the Spaniards, in which he

told them that Spain had anciently belonged to St. Peter and the Roman

church; that the carelessness of his predecessors, and the Saracenic

conquest, had caused the papal rights to be forgotten, but that the

time had come for them to be revendicated, and that he consequently

claimed implicit obedience.[755] Accordingly, in 1078, we find the

legate presiding over another council at Girona, which confirmed the

canons of the previous one, and added several others to prevent the

ordination of sons of priests, and the hereditary transmission of

benefices.[756] Such slender reforms as may have resulted from these

efforts were probably confined to Catalonia and Aragon; but not long

afterwards influences were brought to bear upon the rest of Spain,

which had a powerful effect in extending the authority of Rome over the

Peninsula. Constance of Burgundy, Queen of Alfonso VI. of Castile and

Leon, prevailed upon her husband to ask of Gregory a legate to reform

the church, and to condemn the Gothic or Mozarabic ritual, which was

jealously preserved by the people as a symbol of their independent

nationality. The prayer, of course, was granted. Richard, Abbot of

Marseilles, was sent, and in 1080 he held a council at Burgos, where

he commanded the ordained clergy to put away their wives. The novelty

and hardship of this order created great excitement. The pope, who

was rightly regarded as its author, became the object of no little

abuse and insult, and was held up to popular derision in innumerable

lampoons.[757]

All of these efforts were nugatory. The Spaniards, engaged in an

interminable and often doubtful struggle with the Infidel, might well

claim consideration from the Holy Father, while the independent spirit

which they manifested in their resistance to the introduction of the

Roman ritual was a warning that it would be prudent not to proceed too

abruptly in the process of bringing them within the fold of St. Peter.

Whatever be the motives, indeed, which induced such strenuous apostles

of celibacy as Gregory, Urban, Paschal, and Calixtus to abstain from

urging upon them the reform which was so earnestly enforced elsewhere,

certain it is that little effort was made to deprive the Spanish clergy

of their wives. In all the epistles of the popes up to 1130 I can find

but one allusion to the subject, though communication between Spain

and Italy became daily more frequent, and the papal authority was

constantly exercised with greater decisiveness in the internal affairs

of the Spanish church.

When, in 1101, Diego Gelmirez succeeded in obtaining the see of

Compostella, Paschal II. addressed him an epistle, reproaching him

with the utter contempt of discipline in his diocese, and commanding

a reform. He chiefly complained of the incongruous common residence

of monks and nuns, which he severely condemned and peremptorily

prohibited, but he made some concession to the necessities of the time

in permitting the ordination of the sons of those priests who had,

“according to the ordinary custom of the country,” married prior to

the promulgation of what the pope significantly termed the Roman law;

and he carefully abstained from ordering a separation between them and

their wives, or even an enforcement of the canons for the future.[758]

Diego, who possessed no common measure of vigor and ambition, and who

needed the particular favor of the popes for the success of his plans

in elevating and aggrandizing his see, accordingly proceeded to reform

his clergy. There is extant a minute and circumstantial contemporary

history of his episcopate, written by his admiring disciples, who dwell

with much instance on his labors and success in reducing to discipline

the refractory canons of his cathedral seat; but in the numerous

allusions to these reforms there is no mention of the enforcement of

celibacy, while the fact that he would not allow them to minister at

the altar without canonical vestments is made the subject of repeated

gratulation and praise.[759] The absolute silence of the authors

with respect to the clergy at large shows that the reticence of Pope

Paschal was not misunderstood, and that there was no effort made to

bring the secular priesthood under subjection to the Roman discipline.

In the twenty-five canons of the council of Compostella in 1113 it

therefore need not surprise us that there is no reference whatever to

the subject, beyond an allusion to the children of ecclesiastics, whose

nurses were declared entitled to clerical privileges, thus giving them

a recognized and highly prized position.[760]

That Diego’s reforms, indeed, did not extend to the abrogation of

clerical marriage is evident from several incidental circumstances.

Thus, in 1114, the lords of the monastery of Botoa made it over to

the church of Santiago of Compostella, reserving to themselves their

life interest, with a reversion to any of their descendants who should

be ecclesiastics, and who might be willing to profess celibacy,

showing that the matter was optional with the secular clergy.[761]

That even the canons were bound by no absolute rules on the subject

is manifested by a very curious transaction which may be worth

recounting as illustrative in several aspects of the spirit of the

age. In 1127, Diego, at the head of his Gallician troops, accompanied

Alfonso VIII. on an expedition into Portugal. On their return, the army

halted at Compostella, where the archbishop received and entertained

his sovereign. They were bound by the closest ties, for Diego had

baptized, knighted, and crowned him, and had, moreover, constantly

stood his friend throughout his stormy youth, in the endless civil

wars which marked the disastrous reign of his mother, Queen Urraca.

Yet, prompted by evil counsellors who were jealous of Diego, the king

suddenly demanded of him an enormous sum of money, to pay off the army,

under threat of seizing and pillaging the city. After considerable

resistance, Diego was forced to submit, and to pay a thousand marks of

silver. He then sought a private interview, in which he solemnly and

affectionately warned Alfonso of the ruin of his soul which would ensue

if he did not undergo penance for thus impiously spoiling the Apostle

Santiago. Alfonso listened humbly, and professed entire willingness

to repent, but for the difficulty that he had always been taught that

penitence was fruitless without restitution, and restitution he was

unable and unwilling to make. Diego then suggested that he should meet

the chapter and discuss the case, to which he graciously assented. In

the assembly which followed, Diego proposed that the king should follow

the example of his father, Raymond of Gallicia, in commending himself

to the peculiar patronage of Santiago, and in bequeathing his body to

be buried in their church, promising, moreover, that if he should do

so they would pray specially for him, which, from the promise of his

youth, bade fair to be no easy task. Alfonso was delighted to escape

so easily: he eagerly accepted the proposition, and added that he

would like to become a canon of their church, in order to enjoy the

fullest possible share in the Masses of such holy men. To this the

chapter assented at once; he was forthwith duly installed as a canon

of the church which he had just despoiled, and his conscience was set

at rest, while the church felt that it had acquired a moral supremacy

over the spoiler.[762] In thus formally becoming a canon, there could

have been no assumption of celibacy, expressed or implied. Alfonso

was but twenty-one years of age, and in the following year he married

Berengaria, daughter of the Count of Barcelona.[763]

In fact, in the absence of urgency on the part of Rome, the question

of sacerdotal celibacy seems to have been virtually ignored in Spain.

How little importance was attached to the preëminent sanctity of

asceticism becomes evident when we are told that in the whole of

Gallicia there was no convent of nuns until Diego, in 1129, founded

the house of S. Maria of Conjo.[764] Equal indifference is manifested

in the legislative assemblies of the church. The council of Leon and

Compostella, in 1114, only prohibited the residence of such women as

were forbidden by the canons,[765] which, in the existing discipline

of the Spanish church, may safely be presumed to offer no impediment

to the marriage relation; and a synod held at Palencia in 1129 is

even more significant in its reticence, for it merely provides

that notorious concubines of the clergy shall be ejected, without

apparently venturing to threaten any punishment on the reverend

offenders.[766]

Towards the close of his restless life, however, Archbishop Diego

found time, amid his military, political, and ecclesiastical schemes

of aggrandizement, to undertake the much needed reform of a single

monastery. The Abbot of S. Pelayo de Antealtaria was a paragon of

brutish sensuality, who wasted the revenues of his house in riotous

living and took no shame in a numerous progeny. The archbishop

remonstrated with him long and earnestly, both in public and private:

seven times in the general chapter of the diocese he admonished and

threatened the offender without result. At length, in 1130, after

forbearance so remarkable, Diego held a chapter in the abbey for his

trial, when he was proved by competent witnesses to have kept no less

than seventy concubines. He was accordingly deposed, but was so far

from being canonically punished that a benefice in the abbey lands was

assigned for his support. A new abbot was then appointed, who swore to

observe the Benedictine rule as far as he should find himself able to

do so.[767] It is a significant commentary on the state of discipline

and opinion to find so weak an effort to remove and punish the grossest

licentiousness characterized by the biographer of Diego with the

warmest expressions of wondering admiration as a work which doubtless

gave ineffable satisfaction to the Divine Omnipotence, and which was

without example in previous history.

It is very evident that the pontiffs who so energetically enforced the

rule of celibacy throughout the rest of Europe were content to offer

little opposition to the obstinacy of the Celtiberian priesthood.

We can safely conclude, indeed, that matters were allowed to remain

virtually undisturbed, and that the clergy were permitted to retain

their wives. A council held in Gallicia in the early part of the

thirteenth century, for the purpose of reforming ecclesiastical

discipline, preserves absolute silence on the subject of marriage and

concubinage;[768] and, about the middle of the same century, we find

Alfonso the Wise of Castile obliged to formally interdict matrimony to

those in holy orders. In the elaborate code drawn up by that monarch

and known as “Las Siete Partidas,” there is a law punishing sacerdotal

marriage with deprivation of function and benefice; while the wives, if

vassals of the church, are to be reduced to servitude, and if serfs,

are to be sold and the proceeds appropriated for the benefit of the

church of the offender. The wording of the law would seem to indicate

that it was an enactment intended to repress existing disorders, and

not merely a well-known provision inserted in the code for the purpose

of completing a compilation of statutes;[769] while the existence in

secular legislation of such invasions of the province of ecclesiastical

law is a convincing proof of the continued independence of Rome

asserted by the Spanish church and state. The prelates were further

authorized to command the assistance of the secular power in enforcing

these barbarous penalties to their full measure of severity, and this

secular legislation seems to have accomplished what the ecclesiastical

authorities had so utterly failed to effect. After this we hear little

of regular marriage, which was replaced by promiscuous concubinage or

by permanent irregular unions.

In Valencia a council in 1255 prohibited the residence with priests of

all women, except mothers and sisters and such others as were beyond

suspicion, but no penalty was prescribed for infractions of the rule;

and the character of the clergy with whom the council had to deal is

sufficiently shown by its complaint that the priests of the country

parishes frequented the city too much and indulged there in disgraceful

excesses, for which reason it forbids them from visiting the city more

often than twice a month, and requires them to return home the same

day.[770] Arnaldo de Peralta, Bishop of Valencia, not long after,

deplores the utter contempt with which all previous efforts to suppress

clerical concubinage had been received, and the prevalence of the

custom by which ecclesiastics endowed their bastards with the spoils of

the church. Yet the only punishment he finds himself able to threaten

is a fine of thirty maravedis on public concubinarians and of five

on parish priests who connive at such offences or neglect to report

them to the bishop. Ecclesiastics, indeed, are directed to put away

their children, but no penalty is indicated for disobedience.[771]

The council of Gerona in 1257 was more energetic, for it decreed the

deprivation of all concubinary priests who persisted in their sin,

but this apparently was not effectual, for in 1274 the threat was

repeated, with the addition that the women should be excommunicated and

should receive after death the burial of asses;[772] and very similar

was the legislation of the council of Peñafiel in 1302.[773] However

well meant these efforts were, they proved as useless as all previous

ones, for in 1322 the council of Valladolid, under the presidency of

the papal legate William Bishop of Sabina, animadverts strongly on the

indecency of ecclesiastics, from the highest prelates down, officiating

at the nuptials of their children, both legitimate and illegitimate.

For those who publicly kept concubines it provides a graduated scale

of confiscation, ending in the deprivation of the persistently

contumacious who gave no prospect of amendment, the exceedingly

elaborate regulations prescribed showing at once the difficulty of the

subject and the importance attached to it. The acts of this council,

moreover, are interesting as presenting the first authentic evidence

of a custom which subsequently prevailed to some extent elsewhere,

by which parishioners were wont to compel their priest to take a

female consort for the purpose of protecting the virtue of their

families from his assaults. The iniquity of this precaution seems to

have especially scandalized the legate, and he treats the audacious

laymen concerned in such transactions with much less ceremony than

the concubinary clergy.[774] The elaborate regulations promulgated by

this council produced little effect. The council of Salamanca in 1335

renews the previous repressive legislation, adding a threat of _ipso

facto_ excommunication for those who give Christian burial to priestly

concubines, including all who are present on such occasions, who are

not to be absolved until they shall have paid a fine of fifty maravedis

to the cathedral church.[775] At length, in 1388, a national council

held at Palencia under Cardinal Pedro de Luna, papal legate, made a

determined effort to eradicate the ineradicable vice. It renewed the

regulations of the council of Valladolid, which it stated were not

obeyed, and added to them a clause by which all benefices were held

under a sort of tenure of chastity, and subject to forfeiture. Besides

this, all ecclesiastics who, within two months of death, had kept

concubines, were declared incapable of testating, and their property

was adjudged, one-third to the fabric of their churches, one-third

to the Ordinary of the diocese, and one-third to the fund for the

redemption of captives under the care of the Orders of Trinidad and

Mercede, who were empowered to seize their share. Moreover, all bishops

were commanded to appoint official Visitors, who were to report at

annual synods, to be held thereafter, all cases of infraction of the

rules.[776] The desolation which the enforcement of such regulations

would have wrought may be inferred from the description which a

contemporary, Alvarez Pelayo, Bishop of Silva in Portugal, gives us of

his fellow ecclesiastics. He states that many of the clergy in holy

orders throughout the Peninsula publicly associated themselves with

women, frequently of noble blood, binding themselves against separation

by notarial acts and solemn oaths, endowing their consorts with the

goods of the church, and celebrating with the kindred these illegal

espousals as joyously as though they were legitimate nuptials. Yet even

this flagrant defiance of the canons was better than the wickedness

common between confessors and their penitents, or than the promiscuous

and unrestrained licentiousness of those who were not fettered by the

forms of marriage, whose children, as Pelayo asserts, almost rivalled

in number those of the laity.[777] These excesses were not suppressed

by the council of Palencia. In 1429 the council of Tortosa, under the

presidency of the Cardinal de Foix, papal legate, renewed the lament

that the canons of Valladolid remained unobserved, and in repeating

them it added a penalty of incarceration for pertinacious offenders,

indicating, moreover, one of the worst abuses to which the subject

gave rise, in forbidding all officials to take bribes from those who

transgressed the rules.[778] This effort was as fruitless as all

previous ones had been, and we shall see hereafter that the same state

of affairs continued until the sixteenth century was well advanced.

XX.

GENERAL LEGISLATION.

In a former section we have seen the efforts made by Calixtus II. to

enforce the received discipline of the church, and we have noted the

scanty measure of success which attended his labors. He apparently

himself recognized that they were futile, and that some action of

more decided character than had as yet been attempted was necessary

to accomplish the result so long and so energetically sought, and

so illusory to its ardent pursuers. On his return to Italy, and his

triumph over his unfortunate rival, the anti-pope Martin Burdino, he

summoned, in 1123, the first general council of the West, to confirm

the Concordat of Worms, which had just closed half a century of strife

between the papacy and the empire. Nearly a thousand prelates obeyed

his call, and that august assembly promulgated a canon which not only

forbade matrimony to those bound by vows and holy orders, but commanded

that if such marriages were contracted they should be broken, and the

parties to them subjected to due penance.[779]

This was a bold innovation. With the exception of a decretal of Urban

II. in 1090, to which little attention seems to have been paid, we have

seen that, previous to Calixtus, while the sacrament of marriage was

held incompatible with the ministry of the altar and with the enjoyment

of church property, it yet was respected and its binding force was

admitted, even to the point of rendering those who assumed it unfitted

for their sacred functions. At most, and as a concession to a lax and

irreligious generation, the option was allowed of abandoning either

the wife or the church. At Rheims, Calixtus had deprived them of this

choice, and had ordered their separation from their wives. He now went

a step further, and by the Lateran canon he declared the sacrament

of marriage to be less potent than the religious vow: the engagement

with the church swallowed up and destroyed all other ties. This gave

the final seal to the separation between the clergy and the laity, by

declaring the priestly character to be indelible. When once admitted

to orders, he became a being set apart from his fellows, consecrated

to the service of God; and the impassable gulf between him and the

laity bound him forever to the exclusive interests of the church.

It is easy to perceive how important an element this irrevocable

nature of sacerdotalism became in establishing and consolidating the

ecclesiastical power.

The immensity of the change thus wrought in the practice, if not in

the doctrine, of the church can best be understood by comparing the

formal command thus issued to the Christian world with the unqualified

condemnation pronounced in earlier times against those who attempted to

dissolve marriage under religious pretexts.[780] And in all ages the

church has regarded the chastity of the monastic orders as even more

imperative than that of the secular clergy.

Revolutions never go backwards. Perhaps the Lateran fathers who adopted

the canon scarcely realized its logical conclusions. If they did,

they at all events shrank from expressing them openly and fully, and

left the faithful to draw their own deductions as to the causes and

consequences of such an order. Time, however, familiarized the minds of

ardent churchmen with the idea, and it was seen that if the practice

thus enjoined was correct, doctrine must be made to suit and to justify

it. To this end an additional stimulus was afforded by the failure of

the canon to accomplish the results anticipated from it, for the custom

of sacerdotal marriage was as yet by no means eradicated. The council

of Liége, held by Innocent II. in 1131, referred to in a preceding

section, and those of Clermont and Rheims, over which he likewise

presided, in 1130 and 1131, show how little had been accomplished,

and how generally the clergy of Europe disregarded the restrictions

nominally imposed upon them, and the punishments which they so

easily escaped.[781] In the canons of these councils not only is it

observable that the question of marriage and celibacy is treated as

though it were a matter now for the first time brought to the attention

of the clergy, but also that the innovation attempted by the council of

Lateran, only seven or eight years previous, is prudently suppressed

and passed over without even an allusion.

* * * * *

Innocent, restored to Rome and to power, was bolder than when wandering

through Europe, soliciting the aid of the faithful. Surrounded by a

thousand bishops at the second great council of Lateran, in 1139, he

no longer dreaded to offend the susceptibilities of the clergy, and he

proceeded to justify the canon of 1123 by creating a doctrine to suit

the practice there enjoined. After repeating the canons of Clermont

and Rheims, he unhesitatingly pronounced that a union contracted in

opposition to the rule of the church was not a marriage.[782] He draws

no argument from the conflict of sacraments assumed to be incompatible;

a simple vow dissolves the sacrament of marriage, and renders it null

and void—or rather destroys its efficacy and anticipates its existence.

The abounding wickedness of a perverse generation caused this decree

of the loftiest Christian tribunal to fall still-born and abortive as

its forerunners had done.[783] The church, however, was irrevocably

committed to the new doctrine and to all its consequences. When

Eugenius III. was driven out of Rome by Arnold of Brescia, he presided,

in 1148, over a council held at Rheims, where eleven hundred bishops

and abbots from Northern and Western Europe assembled to do honor

to the persecuted representative of St. Peter, and to condemn the

teachings of Gilbert de la Porrée. From this great assembly he

procured the confirmation of the new dogma by their adoption of the

Lateran canon; while the repetition of that of Clermont and Rheims (of

1130 and 1131) shows that the evil which it was intended to repress

still existed in full force.[784] The vague assertion of Eugenius

that he was but following in the footsteps of the holy fathers, and a

special reference to Innocent II. as his authority, render it probable

that the members of the council demurred in committing themselves to

the new principle, and that it was only by showing that the matter was

already decided under the irrefragable authority of a general council

that the consent of the Transalpine churches was obtained.

St. Bernard himself, the impersonation of ascetic sacerdotalism,

hesitated to subscribe to the new dogma, and when the monks of

Chartres asked him to reconcile it with the teachings of Augustin

and Gregory the Great he candidly confessed that his dialectical

skill was unequal to the task.[785] So when an abbot applied to him

for advice in the case of one of his monks, who had left the convent

and married, St. Bernard stigmatized the act as highly improper, but

hesitated to pronounce it unlawful. He recommended that an attempt be

made to convince the parties that they were perilling their salvation,

and if this failed he thought that perhaps they might be separated

by episcopal authority.[786] In fact, four years after the council

of Rheims, St. Bernard reproached Eugenius with having caused the

adoption of canons which no one pretended to obey. If he thought that

they were enforced, he grievously erred; if he did not think so, he

had sinned either by decreeing what was not to be observed or in

neglecting to punish their non-observance—and no one was punished for

his disobedience.[787]

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