The truce of God: A tale of the eleventh century

by George H. Miles

He did not even wait for the sentence of excommunication to fall, that now hung by a hair above his head, but began the attack, as if resolved to have the advantage of the first blow. Couriers were despatched to every part of the empire, with commands to all the prelates and nobles upon whom he could rely, to assemble at Worms, where he promised to meet them without fail. Twenty-four bishops and a great number of laymen hastened to obey the summons. The conventicle sat three days, and the following charges were formally preferred against the Pope: "That he had by force extracted a solemn oath from the clergy not to adhere to the king, nor to favor or obey any other Pope than himself; that he had falsely interpreted the Scriptures; that he had excommunicated the king without legal or canonical examination, and without the consent of the cardinals; that he had conspired against the life of the king; that, in spite of the remonstrances of his cardinals, he had cast the Body and Blood of our Lord into the flames; that he had arrogated to himself the gift of prophecy; that he had connived at an attempted assassination of the king; that he had condemned and executed three men without a judgment or an admission of their guilt; that he kept constantly about his person a book of magic."

So palpably absurd and false were these charges that three of the assembled prelates refused to sign an instrument for the deposition of a pontiff, so little conforming to the ancient discipline, and unsupported by witnesses worthy of belief. Nor were Henry's machinations confined to Germany, but he ransacked Lombardy and the marches of Ancona for bishops to sign these articles of condemnation, and even aspired to infect Rome itself by presents and specious promises. But the golden ass could not then leap the walls of Christian Rome.

Gregory's principal accuser was the Cardinal Hugues le Blanc, whom he had previously excommunicated. This ambitious man rose in the council and taunted the Pope with his low extraction, at the same time charging him with crimes that were proved to be the offspring of calumny and error. He produced a forged letter, purporting to come in the name of the archbishops, bishops, and cardinals, from the senate and people of Rome, inveighing against the Pope, and clamoring for the election of another head of the Church. Encouraged by imperial patronage, and stimulated by a desire to rid himself of disgrace by sullying the hands that had branded him, the excommunicated cardinal did not hesitate to call the Pope a heretic, an adulterer, a sanguinary beast of prey. The emperor himself knew Gregory too well to believe such a tissue of absurdity; but he hoped to find others more credulous than himself.

Upon the accusations already specified, and the invectives of Hugues le Blanc, the assemblage of prelates at Worms resolve upon the deposition of Gregory VII. It is then that Henry steps forth, as the life and soul of the conventicle, armed with its decree, and addresses an insulting letter to the Pope, inscribed "Henry, king by the grace of God, to Hildebrand." In this letter, the decree of the conventicle is lost in the insolence of the king. "I," is the language of the missive, "I have followed their advice, because it seemed to me just. I refuse to acknowledge you Pope, and in the capacity of patron of Rome command you to vacate the Holy See." Can the most jaundiced eye, can the man who learned, even in his boyhood, to loathe the name of Hildebrand, read these expressions without confessing that the king was the aggressor, and that if the Christian Church had a right to expect protection from its appointed head, Gregory VII was called upon to vindicate the majesty and liberty of religion so grossly outraged in his person? Surely it will not be asserted at this day that the head of the State, by virtue of his temporal power, should be the head of the Church; or does that beautiful logic still exist, which denied an absolute spiritual supremacy in the successor of St. Peter, yet admitted it as an incidental prerogative to the crown of England? But we have yet to see the last act of this attempted deposition.

A clerk of Parma, named Roland, was charged with the delivery of this letter, and the decrees of the conventicle of Worms. A synod had been convoked in the Church of Lateran, and the Pope, surrounded by his bishops, occupied a chair elevated above the rest. Roland's mission had been kept a profound secret, and, when he appeared before the conclave, not a prelate there could guess his purpose. They had not heard the voice that had gone forth from Worms. But they did not long remain in suspense. Turning to the Pope, the envoy thus began "The king, my master, and all the ultramontane and Italian bishops, command you to resign, at once, the throne of St. Peter and the government of the Roman Church, which you have usurped; for you cannot justly claim so exalted a dignity without the approbation of the bishops and the confirmation of the emperor!" Then addressing the clergy, he thus continued: "My brothers, it is my duty to inform you, that you must appear before the king at the approaching festival of Pentecost, to receive a Pope from his hand; for the tiara is now worn, not by a Pope, but by a devouring wolf!"

Receive a Pope from the king! receive from Cæsar what he must usurp to bestow! Had Gregory flinched, the independence of the Church would have been sacrificed, and her acknowledged inability to cope with royal vices would have permitted every European monarch to change his queen with his courtiers. Henry IV would have had his successor to Bertha; Philip Augustus his Agnes de Méranie; and Henry VIII his Cranmer and his scaffold without one moment's opposition.

But no sooner had Roland pronounced those last words, than the Bishop of Porto leaped from his chair, and cried out: "Seize him!" The prefect and nobles of Rome and the soldiers drew their swords, and, in their sudden fury, would have killed the audacious envoy, had not Gregory, repeating his magnanimity to Cencius, covered the clerk with his own body, and by his calmness and eloquence controlled the indignation and disgust of his too zealous friends.

"My friends!" he said, with all the dignity of human greatness, elevated and purified by the most exalted piety, "disturb not the peace of the Church. Behold the dangerous times, of which the Scripture speaks, are come, when men shall be lovers of themselves, covetous, haughty, and disobedient to parents. We cannot escape these scandals; and God has said that He has sent us like sheep in the midst of wolves. It is necessary for us then to combine the innocence of the dove with the prudence of the serpent. Now, when the precursor of Antichrist erects himself against the Church, he must find us innocent and prudent; these dispositions constitute wisdom. We must hate no one, but bear with the madmen who would violate the law of God. Remember that God, descending a second time among men, proclaims aloud: 'He who would follow me must forsake himself!' We have lived in peace long enough, and God wishes that the harvest should again be moistened with the blood of His Saints. Let us prepare for martyrdom, if it shall be needed, for the law of God, and resolve that nothing shall sever us from the charity of Jesus Christ."

The synod, in breathless interest, listened to the holy Pontiff, who then proceeded with wonderful composure to read the charges that had been preferred against him. Among Roland's letters was another signed, "Henry, king not by usurpation, but by the grace of God, to Hildebrand, false monk and anti-pope." This was couched, if possible, in language more insulting than the former. One sentence will show the temper of the document, and prove that the king was struggling to build up a monarchy of divine rights and appointment. "A true Pope, Saint Leo, says, Fear God! honor the king! But as you do not fear God, neither do you honor me whom He has appointed king." Can any expression more clearly indicate that Henry of Austria had resolved to crush a Pontiff who stood between him and unquestioned despotism, and that he aimed at a heaven- commissioned temporal power, often conceded, it is true, but never by Catholicity. The letter concludes with these words: "I, Henry, king by the grace of God, warn you, with all our bishops: descend! descend!"

When the Pope had finished reading the invectives of Henry and those who were weak enough to second his ambition, so great was the exasperation of the synod, that he adjourned it to meet the next day. When the morrow came, in the presence of one hundred and ten bishops, he recited his former indulgence to Henry, his paternal remonstrances, and his repeated proofs of love and goodness. The whole assembly rose in a body, and implored him to anathematize a perjured prince, an oppressor, and a tyrant, declaring that they would never abandon the Pope, and that they were ready to die in his defence. It was then that Gregory VII rose and pronounced, amid the unanimous acclamations of the synod, the sentence of excommunication against the emperor.