The Bishop of Rome had become the recognized head of the Western Church. Wielding both temporal and spiritual power, the pope towered in dignity above all the monarchs of Europe. Towards the close of the eleventh century, Hildebrand, with the title of Gregory VII., occupied the pontifical chair. Henry IV., Emperor of Germany, claimed the right of appointing bishops in his own realms. The pope haughtily summoned the emperor immediately to repair to his presence in Rome, and answer for his conduct. Henry, indignant at such an insult, issued a decree declaring Gregory VII. no longer worthy of being regarded as pope.
In retaliation, the exasperated pontiff excommunicated the emperor, deposing him from his throne, and prohibiting his subjects, under pain of eternal damnation, from supporting the emperor, or from ministering in any way to his wants. The superstitious people, believing that the pope had entire power to send them all to hell, in their terror simultaneously and universally abandoned the emperor. No servant dared to engage in his employ; no soldier dared to serve under his banner. The emperor found himself in an hour utterly crushed and helpless. The pope summoned a congress, and appointed another emperor in the place of his deposed victim.
Henry, finding himself thus overwhelmed beyond all possibility of resistance, in dismay and despair crossed the Alps in the dead of winter to throw himself at the feet of the offended pontiff, and implore forgiveness. Gregory VII. was then at the Castle of Canossa, in Tuscany. For three days, in mid-winter, the abject monarch stood a suppliant at the gate of the castle before he could be admitted. Barefoot, bareheaded, and clothed in a woollen shirt, he was compelled thus to wait, day after day, that all might witness his abject humiliation. At length, the haughty pontiff consented to grant absolution to the humiliated and penitent emperor.
The extravagance of the claims of Hildebrand seem to approach insanity. He published a collection of maxims, which is still extant. Among them are the following, which evince his spirit, and the arrogance of the papacy at that day:—
“There is but one name in the world; and that is the pope’s. All princes ought to kiss his feet. He alone can nominate or displace bishops, or dissolve councils. Nobody can judge him. He has never erred, and never shall err in time to come. He can depose princes, and release subjects from their oaths of fidelity.”
All the monarchs of Europe sustained these assumptions of the pope; for, by sustaining them, they easily held their subjects under perfect control. Nothing can be conceived more awful than was then the idea of excommunication to the popular mind. It exposed one to almost all possible misery in this world, and to the eternal flames of hell in the next.
One becomes weary of the recital of the crimes and woes of those days. There is, however, one truth which stands forth prominent from every page of history: it is, that in the religion of Jesus alone can be found the remedy for the ills of earth; it is the democracy of the gospel, the recognition of the brotherhood of man, where only is to be found hope for the world. Forms of government are of little avail so long as the men who wield those forms are selfish and depraved. Governments will become better only so fast as the men who administer them become better.
It is one of the signal developments of human depravity that men will reject and oppose the religion of Jesus because bad men, assuming the Christian name, ignore, and trample beneath their feet, all the teachings of the gospel. Christianity advocates every thing that is lovely and of good report, urging all “to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with God; to visit the widow and fatherless in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world;” while at the same time it denounces, under penalty of the divine displeasure, every act which is not consistent with love to God and love to man.
Notwithstanding papal pride and corruption, the spirit of Christ, in those dark ages, was beautifully developed in thousands of hearts, among the lofty as well as among the lowly. There is a great deal of false religion now, a great deal of ritualistic pomp and of empty profession. It was so then. Still, everywhere, then as now, could be seen the most attractive evidences of the power of true religion. Devoted missionaries had penetrated the most remote and savage wilds; and not a few who wore regal crowns and ducal coronets were numbered among the disciples of Jesus.
On the 19th of May, 1126, Monomaque, one of the most renowned of the early sovereigns of semi-barbaric Russia, died at the age of seventy-six. He had developed a very beautiful character, often praying with a trembling voice and tearful eyes for suffering humanity. Just before he fell asleep in Jesus, he wrote a farewell letter to his sons and daughters. The letter was written in the Palace of Kief, nearly a thousand years ago, and is still preserved on parchment in the archives of the monarchy. Every reader will admire its truly Christian spirit.