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- Shrewd Monk, Stubborn Emperor (Part II)
Shrewd Monk, Stubborn Emperor (Part II)
We live in a secular society, which does not look to gods, goddesses, or spirits for guidance or knowledge, but, rather, to science, coherent logic, and verifiable facts.

We live in a secular society, which does not look to gods, goddesses, or spirits for guidance or knowledge, but, rather, to science, coherent logic, and verifiable facts. If people are asked if they consider religion as a personal foundation, the truly religious among us might answer in the affirmative. Others, many others, might not openly admit the influence religion has on their lives. The divisions between society and religion, religion and state, are the byproduct of Western political and social developments stemming from a complicated (and often tumultuous) history concerning the influence of religion in these spheres. In the United States, Thomas Jefferson is said to have begun the unofficial policy of the separation of church and state, although it has been (con)tested throughout the nation’s history. Despite challenges to this policy, many Americans believe the Church (i.e., faith-based organizations) and the State (i.e., governmental organizations) shouldn’t work together or even work to intervene on behalf of one another. Many would see such interactions in our society as backward, bordering on backsliding into theocracy. Nevertheless, looking at medieval Europe, we find a society where religion and state, society and religion, were intertwined, and this intertwined nature was justified on both sides.
Unlike (say) modern society and state, religion played a tremendous role in both societal and governmental functions. It was often hard to find where state and/or societal entities began and where religious ones ended. To say this was a harmonious relationship would be problematic. Much like modern societal and state relations with religious entities, there was contention, and friction that dominated conflicts between the Church and the State for decades. One such contentious period would be the Investiture Controversy, one of the conflict’s many names, which impacted much of Christian Europe, albeit in different ways. German and Italian lands saw the greatest extent of the conflict, but it also cropped up in France and even faraway England.
Due to the sheer broadness (and depth) of this topic, it makes sense to focus on the political decisions made by Pope Gregory VII, who is famously known for his vigorous church reforms during the latter part of the eleventh century CE and for starting the Investiture Controversy.
In 1073 CE, a monk by the name of Hildebrand was elected to the papacy. It is said that after the death of Pope Alexander II, “a crowd seized […] Hildebrand [and brought him] to the Church of St. Peter ad Vincula, and enthusiastically proclaimed him as Pope.”[1]
After being named pope by the enthusiastic Roman crowd, Hildebrand was confirmed shortly thereafter by the College of Cardinals. Gregory also happened to be a native Italian, which might explain why the Roman populace chose him as their new bishop. Hildebrand took the name Gregory (becoming Gregory VII), probably after his teacher and friend, John Gratian, who had been Pope Gregory VI, or even possibly “out of reverence for Gregory the Great,”[2] a great reformer of the Church. Unlike many of his predecessors, Gregory VII knew the inner workings of the papacy, having served under several popes either as a representative of the papacy or through encouraging much-needed reforms within the Church itself. It is said that under Pope Alexander II, Hildebrand had been more influential on the affairs of the Church than the Pope himself.
The first order of business under this new pope was to implement a rigorous reform program within the Church.
As mentioned before, Hildebrand had been a monk before becoming pope. This influenced his views on what the Church should be, and they had a considerable impact on what would become the Investiture Controversy, particularly with the German leaders of Central Europe and northern Italy. He wanted to implement reforms that’d cleanse the Church of its many problems, particularly problems that diminished the organization’s power within and hold over Western Christendom. Such reforms made many, particularly fellow reformers, compare Gregory VII to Old Testament prophets. In other cases, especially among the Germanic kings, he was depicted as a vile enemy bent on subjugating people, within and without the clergy, to his will.
Gregory VII’s reforms focused on three important issues challenging the integrity of the Church at the closing of the eleventh century CE. First was the thorny issue of clerical marriage. Clerical marriage was not seen in a negative light before these reforms. Many within the Church thought clerical marriage was a positive thing. In other words, it allowed priests to be examples to their congregations. More importantly, marriage prevented clergy from committing certain sinful sexual acts, which might offend congregations and bring down scandal in the Church itself.
Gregory VII and his fellow reformers saw several logistical issues about clerical marriage. The first is that a priest could be distracted from his spiritual duties to his congregation. The second reason, and probably the soundest in terms of protecting the Church, pertained to clerical wages, which were often too meager to support a family. This would prevent a priest from being able to provide for sons and daughters, who would require significant financial support. The only logical action a priest with no money could take, so the thinking went, would be to appropriate Church-owned lands and hand them down to his children. This was a huge problem because it constituted alienation of Church lands, which was entirely unacceptable. Doing so was an ex-communicable offense in the eleventh century.
Another reform pursued by Hildebrand and his Church reformers was the removal of simony within the Church itself. Simony presented a real problem because it allowed non-clergy members to gain lucrative church offices through a sale or large bribe. This, of course, was the norm in the eleventh-century medieval church. There was incredible resistance from members of Hildebrand’s (i.e., the Church’s) own clergy, who saw such reforms as unfair and even outside of the purview of the papacy in Rome. After all, the pope, for much of Western history, was merely the bishop of Rome, a city that was a shell of its former self, and nothing more.
The third problem facing the Church was the lay investiture of the clergy. Lay investiture created an untenable situation within the Church, where monarchs and the high aristocracy could appoint archbishops, bishops, and abbots to their positions. These same individuals would invest clergy with the markings of their offices as well. In many cases, these individuals were chosen due to their loyalty to (say) a given king and not the Church or even the Pope. Thus, these clergy members would not consider the Church’s reforms, agendas, etc. with the same seriousness as they would (say) their king’s own. Therefore, Gregory VII found lay investiture a serious weakness in the pope’s ability to maintain the papacy’s supremacy over the entire Western Church.
The conflict between the German kings and the Gregorian reformers over lay investiture came to a head between two powerful (and stubborn) personalities: Heinrich [Henry] IV and Gregory VII. To understand this conflict, it is necessary to know the systems and contexts in which the conflict arose.
For many in Western Europe, property among the landed classes was understood, controlled, and maintained through a system that comes to us through history: feudalism. This politico-economic system was used by much of Western and Central Europe during the eleventh century CE. England offers a counterexample, as it was introduced relatively late there by William the Bastard (i.e., William the Conqueror) after his successful invasion and conquest (c. 1066 CE). Feudalism worked relatively well, at first, in securing stability and much-needed military resources. A lord gave a fief, a piece of land, to his vassal, someone who was expected to provide advice, military service, homage, and obedience to their feudal lord.
A “lord formally invested the vassal with the fief in the ‘investiture ceremony’ […] usually by handing him a staff, sword, or spear as a transfer”[3] of power over the allotment of land. The two important duties of a vassal were military service auxilium and counsel councilium. The lord also performed specific duties on behalf of their vassals. One such duty included wardship, where the lord would take on a deceased vassal’s children, looking after the vassal’s lands and children.
The vassal did not (outright) own their fief(s), especially in the sense that we often perceive landownership today. Instead, a vassal, and even a vassal’s rightful heirs, owned the right to the use of the fruits of the land, or usus fructus, but not the land itself. The same concept was later attached to temporalities belonging to monasteries and churches throughout much of Europe.
In German-held lands, where much of the controversy was waged, the German emperors of the Holy Roman Empire built what was known as the imperial-church system, the state-church system, or even the Ottonian church system, founded by the German emperor, Otto I. With this system, German emperors created vassal-like duties attached to temporalities, which were large land grants given to monasteries and abbeys. This allowed the German emperors to prevent these gifts of land from being handed down to heirs, as that would be the alienation of Church property. Excommunication was the price for alienating Church lands. This strategy also allowed the German emperors to exact military service and other goods and services from these lands, as was owed to them as feudal lords. Inheritance amongst the nobles caused the sons of nobility to be less likely to support the German emperors in times of crisis. On top of that, the nobility’s vassals could not be expected to be loyal to anyone but their dukes. Through the use of subinfeudation, loyalties were complicated and marred to a point where German monarchs had to look for support elsewhere.
The imperial-church system was not a unified system of churches, rather “what held it together was the right of the king to take part in the appointment of bishoprics [and abbeys].”[4] Churches within the Ottonian state-church system “worked prayer and divine services for the well-being of the king, his army, and all Christians; in effect, they supplied the king with money and food […] helped maintain the peace at home […] advised the king […] or acted as diplomats.”[5] These lands also had significant military service attached to them, which the king relied on often in times of need. With the State and Church working together, it allowed monarchs like the German emperors of the Holy Roman Empire to defend, maintain, and expand their power, all the while countering the political and military power (and ambitions) of rival noble families. It is best to remember that German emperors were considered one among equals when it came to their nobility. In other words, the holder of the imperial crown was not above but equal to the rival nobles within the Holy Roman Empire, which created some significant (and often inconvenient) political issues for these German emperors.
In Germany, the monarchs would often nominate and invest bishops and abbots. This was “a right long ago claimed by the Merovingian rulers”[6] that had carried onward into the eleventh and twelfth centuries. German monarchs’ concentration on who held what Church positions and their associated properties ensured they had loyal supporters in their perpetual conflicts with rival dukes of regions such as Franconia, Swabia, or Saxony. With the support of appointed (and invested) bishops and abbots, the monarchs of Germany were able to hold onto real power, unlike the French monarchs, who had, through a process known as subinfeudation, were essentially gutted of their political and military power outside of Paris, or the so-called Ile de France.
In the eyes of the medieval church, investiture was a serious concern because it “contradicted canonical stipulations requiring clergy and people of a diocese to elect its bishops.”[7] Investiture also contradicted the understanding established by Pope Gelasius I, which was best articulated in his letter to Emperor Anastasius I. The contents of the letter comprise what is known formally as the Two Swords Theory:
There are two powers, august Emperor, by which this world is chiefly ruled, namely, the sacred authority of priests and the royal power [. …] You are always aware, dear son, that while you are permitted honorably to rule over humankind, yet in things divine, you bow your head humbly before the leaders of the clergy.[8]
This letter by Pope Gelasius I clearly states the powers controlling the planet, that of the State and the Church. The letter itself highlights areas where the jurisdictions of the two divergent powers lie. In matters of faith and scripture, the Church holds authority. In areas concerning the matters of the state, of leadership, governance, and government, the State exists for a reason, which is symbolized by people like Emperor Anastasius I. What is striking about this passage is that reality is far more complicated. There was no division between the State and the Church. In places like the Holy Roman Empire, France, and England, State and Church authorities were inextricably intertwined. The Gregorian reforms encouraged and pushed by Gregory VII show an attempt to create what Gelasius I suggested.
However, Gregory VII, and his followers, would try to take this a step further: Total papal supremacy over the Church, and, in many cases, over the State itself. The act of investiture served as a reminder of the failure of the Two Swords Theory being a reality. Moreover, investiture showed that in matters of faith, the clergy, and the Church itself, the Church was quite powerless to control its fate outside of Rome. The very act of investiture made the clergy (and even the Church itself) an unwitting tool of various monarchies and the high aristocracy across Europe, or so the thinking went. Despite these fears, the Gregorian reformers, and their opponents, knew even the abbots and bishops invested by monarchs and aristocrats tended to revolt or oppose those who installed them in their offices.
Investiture itself played a major role in the conflict between the papacy, under Gregory VII, and the German emperors, under Heinrich IV. It is important to remember that investiture itself was looked upon by both State and Church officials as necessary. In other words, investiture, the act itself, was not the issue. The real problem arose concerning who invested the clergyman with his signs of office and installed said clergyman in that office. The cooperation between Church and State was still deemed essential, as both relied on one another for survival, especially in German lands, northern Italy, France, and England. The papacy under the Gregorian reformers saw lay investiture as a damaging influence upon the Church, something that needed to be stopped. It was, to these reformers, the cause of many problems facing the Church in the late-eleventh century.
The conflict between the German emperor, Heinrich IV, and the Italian pope, Gregory VII, is known as the Investiture Controversy. Ironically, the controversy is rather violent, despite its rather innocuous name. The papacy would, later on, come to a head with the French and English monarchs as well, but these monarchs played little part in the conflict itself. To complicate matters, the Investiture Controversy didn’t start over the act of lay investiture. Instead, it appears Heinrich IV and Gregory VII came into conflict over the papal and German primacy in northern Italy.
Historically speaking, German monarchs laid claim to northern Italy. However, the papacy had claimed claim to this area as well, being in its backyard, so to speak. Following the defeat of Saxon rebels in distinctly German lands in 1075 CE, Heinrich IV planned on reconsolidating the kingdom of Italy, something claimed by him and previous German monarchs. This claim to northern Italy had existed hundreds of years before the actual Investiture Controversy. Had this been earlier, it is doubtful the papacy would have committed to a conflict with the German emperor of the Holy Roman Empire. The papacy’s cozy-ish relationship with the Holy Roman Empire suggests as much. Nevertheless, the conditions and contexts of the late-eleventh-century made for an explosive conflict between a papacy attempting to assert its power over the Church (and even the State) and a desperate monarchy seeking to shore up its defenses against rebellious dukes in German-held lands.
What happened in northern Italy is that German monarchs had (effectively) abandoned the region or ignored it completely, a sort of salutary neglect. German monarchs before Heinrich IV left the kingdom of Italy alone. To someone like Heinrich IV, the kingdom of Italy presented a very real opportunity to ensure stability within the Holy Roman Empire, and it presented him with an opportunity to counter the powerful German dukes at home. The issue is that the papacy had, over time, asserted its claims over northern Italy. Again, it is best to remember that the papacy, headed by the bishop of Rome, whom we call the pope, had Italian political aspirations as well.
Thus, the conflict between the State and the Church arises not from lay investiture as one might think. Instead, it arises out of posturing and a conflict of claims between the Pope and the Emperor. Gregory VII in 1075 CE “recognized Henry’s [Heinrich IV’s] hereditary customary right to invest bishops with their diocese [. …] [H]e nevertheless asked later that same year for the king to have a successor to Bishop Hermann […] installed in Brandenburg […] [and Gregory] did not object to Henry’s investiture of Huzmann of Speyer.”[9] That same year (i.e., 1075 CE), Gregory VII changed his stance when Heinrich IV invested “his chaplain Tedald as archbishop of Milan, ignoring the claims of the archbishop-elect recognised by the papacy.”[10]
The papacy under Gregory VII had supported someone who had been part of the Patria Movement in Milan. It is important to note that Gregory did not support the investiture of the clergy, however, he did not voice objection to Heinrich IV investing clergy within Germany. When Heinrich IV invested Tedald, Gregory VII felt Heinrich IV crossed a line and was interfering within the papacy’s sphere of influence, which included northern Italy. This conflict of interests forces Gregory VII’s hand, who then takes drastic steps to prohibit lay investiture, which was thought of as a way to force Heinrich IV to back down from his political ambitions in northern Italy. Unfortunately for Gregory VII, he chose the wrong opponent and would soon find that Heinrich IV had his cards to play.