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THE HISTORY OF THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH, from the birth of Christ to the 18th Century: including the very interesting account of the Waldenses and Albigenses
By William Jones

First Edition 1812
Fourth Edition 1819
Fifth Edition 1826
London: Printed for the Author by W. Myers, 7, Took’s Court, Castle Street, Holborn

[Note from the publisher. This valuable out-of-print book was carefully formatted for electronic publication by Way of Life Literature. For a catalog of other books, both current and old, in print and electronic format, contact us at P.O. Box 610368, Port Huron, MI 48061-0368, fbns@wayoflife.org (e-mail), http://www.wayoflife.org (web site).]

[Table of Contents for "A History of the Christian Church" by William Jones]

THE STATE OF THE CATHOLIC CHURCH FROM THE NINTH TO THE TWELFTH CENTURY

A.D. 800 - 1200

The ninth and tenth centuries of the Christian era, are universally allowed to form the lowest point of depression to which the profession of the religion of Jesus was reduced in regard to darkness and superstition. It will not, therefore, be necessary to detain the reader long from subjects of a more pleasing nature, by dwelling very minutely upon the state of things during this period. The fact is acknowledged by the papists themselves; by Caranza, Genebrard, Baronius, and others, who describe the tenth century as a monstrous age. The language of the latter writer indeed, is so remarkable, that it deserves to be quoted. Alluding to Psalm 44:23, he says, "Christ was then, as it would appear, in a deep sleep, and the ship was covered with waves; and what seemed worse, when the Lord was thus asleep, there were no disciples, by their cries to awaken him, being themselves all fast asleep." It may not, however, be without its use to take a rapid glance at the proceedings of the court of Rome, and mark the stages by which the antichristian power arrived at its zenith.

On entering upon this subject, there is one remarkable circumstance which merits the reader’s notice as he proceeds, for the fact is worthy of his attention. It has fallen to our lot, through the good providence of God, to see this monstrous power, which for a succession of ages tyrannized over the bodies and souls of men, virtually annihilated by the power of France. What the reader should particularly remark is, that it was by the aid of that same power, in a very especial manner, that the "Man of Sin" was elevated to his throne. It can scarcely be necessary to recall to his recollection the intrigues between the popes and French monarchs, of which I have given a short detail in a former section. The sequel will appear to be quite in character; but we must go back a little to trace the subject in order.

On the death of Pepin, king of France, in the year 768, his dominions were divided between his two sons, Charles and Carloman, the latter of whom dying two years afterwards, Charles [known as CHARLES THE GREAT, OR CHARLEMAGNE] became sole monarch of that country. In his general character, he somewhat resembled our English Alfred, and is deservedly ranked amongst the most illustrious sovereigns that have appeared -- a rare instance of a monarch, who united his own glory with the happiness of his people. In private life he was amiable; an affectionate father, a fond husband, and a generous friend. Though engaged in many wars, he was far from neglecting the arts of peace, the welfare of his subjects, or the cultivation of his own mind. Government, morals, religion, and letters, were his constant pursuits. He frequently convened the national assemblies, for regulating the affairs both of church and state. His attention extended to the most distant corner of his empire, and to all ranks of men. His house was a model of economy, and his person of simplicity and true grandeur. "For shame," he would say to some of his nobles, who were more finely dressed than the occasion required, "learn to dress like men, and let the world judge of your rank by your merit, not your dress. Leave silks and finery to women, or reserve them for those days of pomp and ceremony when robes are worn for show, not use." He was fond of the company of learned men, and assembled them from all parts of Europe, forming in his palace a kind of royal academy, of which he condescended to become a member, and of which he made ALCUIN, our learned countryman, the head; at the same time honoring him as his companion and particular favorite. "The dignity of his person, the length of his reign, the prosperity of his arms, the vigor of his government, and the reverence of distant nations, distinguish Charles from the royal crowd: and Europe dates a new era from his restoration of the western empire" [2 Gibbon, vol. 9, ch. 49].

[For the honor of our country, I here record a few particulars concerning Alcuin. He was born in the north of England, and educated at York, under the direction of archbishop Egbert, whom in his letters he frequently styles his beloved master, and the clergy of York the companions of his youthful studies. Being sent on an embassy by Offa, king of Mercia, to the emperor Charlemagne, his talents and his virtues so won upon the latter, that he contracted a high esteem for him, and a mutual friendship ensued. Charles earnestly solicited, and at length prevailed upon him to settle in his court and become his preceptor in the sciences. He accordingly instructed that prince in rhetoric, logic, mathematics, and divinity, and was treated with so much kindness and familiarity by the emperor, that by way of eminence, the courtiers called him "the emperor’s delight." Alcuin, having passed many years in the most intimate familiarity with Charlemagne, at length, with great difficulty, obtained leave to retire to his Abbey of St. Martins at Tours. Here he kept up a constant correspondence with the emperor, and their letters evince their mutual regard for religion and learning, and their anxiety to promote them in the most munificent manner. In one of these letters, which Dr. Henry has translated, there is a passage which throws some light on the learning of the times. "The employments of your Alcuin," says he to the emperor, "in his retreat, are suited to his humble sphere, but they are neither inglorious nor unprofitable. I spend my time in the halls of St. Martin, in teaching some of the noble youths under my care the intricacies of grammar, and inspiring them with a taste for the learning of the ancients; in describing to others the order and revolutions of those shining orbs which adorn the azure vault of heaven; and in explaining to others the mysteries of divine wisdom, which are contained in the Holy Scriptures; suiting my instructions to the views and capacities of my scholars, that I may train up many to be ornaments to the church of God and to the court of your imperial majesty. In doing this, I find a great want of several things, particularly of those excellent books in all arts and sciences, which I enjoyed in my native country, through the expense and care of my great master Egbert. May it, therefore, please your majesty, animated with the most ardent love of learning, to permit me to send some of your young gentlemen into England, to procure for us those books which we want, and transplant the flowers of Britain into France, that their fragrance may no longer be confined to York, but may perfume the palaces of Tours." Charlemagne often solicited Alcuin to return to court, but he excused himself, and remained at Tours until his death, May 19, 804. He understood the Latin, Greek, and Hebrew languages extremely well; was an excellent orator, philosopher, and mathematician. His works, which consist of fifty-three treaties, homilies, commentaries, letters, poems, etc. are comprised in 2 vols. folio.]

But with all these amiable traits in the character of Charles the Great (or Charlemagne, as he is usually called) a superstitious attachment to the see of Rome, unhappily mingled itself with all his policy, and led him to engage in theological disputes and quibbles unworthy of his character.* It would have been well for his memory, indeed, had he stopped there; but a blind zeal for the propagation of Christianity, which extinguished his natural feelings, made him guilty of severities which shock humanity. One of the leading objects of his reign, was the conversion of the Saxons, a nation of Germany, to the Christian faith. He seems to have considered a reception of the mild doctrines of Christianity as the best means of taming a savage people, and to accomplish this he sent his armies to invade their country. After a number of battles gallantly fought, and many cruelties committed on both sides, the Saxons were totally subjected; but as they were no less tenacious of their religious than of their civil liberty, persecution marched in the train of war, and stained with blood the fetters of slavery. Four thousand five hundred of their principal men, because they refused, on a particular occasion, to give up their celebrated general, Witikind, were ordered to be massacred -- an instance of severity scarcely to be paralleled in the history of mankind, especially if we consider that the Saxons were not the natural subjects of Charles, but an independent people struggling for freedom. He compelled the Saxons, under pain of death, to receive baptism; condemned to the severest punishments the breakers of Lent, and every where substituted force for persuasion. As the little learning which, at that period, remained among mankind, was monopolized by the clergy, it cannot excite our surprise that they obtained the most signal marks of his favor. He established the payment of tithes, and admitted the clergy into the national assemblies, associating them with the secular nobles in the administration of justice; in return for which, they honored him with the most marked distinctions, permitting him to sit in councils purely ecclesiastical. Accordingly, in the year 794, we find him seated on a throne in the council of Frankfort, with one of the pope’s legates on each hand, and three hundred bishops waiting his nod.

[* The following short letter written by Charlemagne, and addressed to Odilbert, archbishop of Metz, while it exhibits a striking proof of this monarch’s concern to promote attention to the means of instruction and learning, is not less deserving regard on account of the disclosure which it makes of the state of religion in his day. "We have often wished," says he, "if we could accomplish it, to converse with you and your colleagues familiarly on the utility of the holy church of God. But although we are not ignorant of the real concern with which you watch over divine things, yet we must not omit, while we trust in the co-operating influence of the Holy Spirit, by our authority to exhort and admonish you to labor in word and doctrine in the church of God, more and more studiously, and with watchful perseverance; so that by your pious diligence the word of God may spread and flourish extensively, and the number of the Christian people may be multiplied, to the praise and glory of our Savior. Wherefore we desire to know in writing, or from your own mouth, in what manner you and your clergy teach and instruct both those who are candidates for the holy office of the ministry, and the people committed to you in the Sacrament of Baptism. That is, Why does a child first become a Catechuman? and what is a Catechuman? And so of other things in their order. Of examination, what is it? Of the creed; what is the interpretation, or meaning of it among the Latins? Of belief, in what manner are we to believe in God the Father Almighty, in Jesus Christ his Son, and in the Holy Spirit? etc. Of renouncing Satan, and his works and pomp, what is this renunciation? What is the meaning of breathing on the person, and exorcising him? Why does the Catechuman receive salt? Why are the ears touched? the breast anointed with oil? the arms crossed? and the breast and arms washed? Why are white garments put on? Why is the head anointed with the holy chrism? Why is it covered with a mystical vail? And why is conformation made with the body and blood of Christ? All these things we require you by careful study to examine, and to report an accurate account of them to us in writing; and further, to state whether you so maintain and preach these things, and govern your own life by the doctrines which you preach." Rankin’s History of France, vol. 1, p. 406. Now all this had been well, if the Scriptures had said any thing about these things; but it was unfortunate for the zeal of this monarch, that the things here enumerated, and about which he was concerned, were almost entirely the corruptions of Christianity, with which that divine institution has nothing to do, except to condemn them as the doctrines and commandments of men. One cannot but feel curious to know what kind of answers the archbishop would return to these sage questions.]

The object of that council was to investigate the sentiments of two Spanish bishops, who, to refute the accusation of Polytheism, brought against the Christians by the Jews and Mahommedans, gave up the proper divinity of Jesus Christ, and maintained that he was the Son of God only by adoption. The monarch opened the assembly, and proposed the condemnation of this heresy. The council decided conformably to his will; and in a letter to the churches of Spain, in consequence of that decision, Charles expressed himself in these remarkable words: "You entreated me to judge of myself; I have done so. I have assisted as an auditor and an arbiter in an assembly of bishops; we have examined; and by the grace of God, we have settled what must be believed!"

It was during the reign of Charles the Great, that the empress Irene convened the second council of Nice for the purpose of re-establishing the use of images, which Leo IV and his son Constantine Copronymus had exerted themselves so much to suppress. That council accordingly decreed that we ought to render to images an honorary worship, but not a real adoration, the latter being due to God alone. Whether designedly or not, but so it was, that in the translation of the Acts of this council, which pope Adrian sent into France, the meaning of the article which respected images was entirely perverted, for it ran thus: "I receive and honor images according to that adoration which I pay to the Trinity." Charles was so shocked at this impiety, that in the effervescence of his zeal, and with the aid of the clergy, he drew up a treatise, called the Caroline books, in which he treated the Nicene council with the utmost contempt and abuse. He transmitted his publication to Adrian, desiring him to excommunicate the empress and her son. The pope excused himself on the score of images, rectifying the mistake upon which Charles had proceeded; but at the same time insinuated, that he would declare Irene and Constantine heretics, unless they restored some lands which formerly belonged to the church. He also took the opportunity of hinting at certain projects which he had formed for the exaltation of the Romish church, and of the French monarchy [Millot’s Elements of General History, part 2]. "I cannot," said he, "after what the council of Nice has done, declare Irene and her son heretics; but I shall declare them to be such, if they do not restore to me my patrimony in Sicily."

In the year 796, Leo III, who had succeeded Adrian in the papacy, transmitted to Charles the Roman standard, requesting him to send some person to receive the oath of fidelity from the Romans, an instance of submission with which that monarch was highly flattered. Accordingly in the year 800, we find Charles at Rome, where he passed six days in private conferences with the pope. On Christmas day, as the king assisted at mass in St. Peter’s church, in the midst of the ecclesiastical ceremonies, and while upon his knees before the altar, the pope advanced and put an imperial crown upon his head. As soon as the people perceived it, they exclaimed, "Long life and victory to Charles Augustus, crowned by the hand of God! Long live the great and pious emperor of the Romans." The supreme pontiff then conducted him to a magnificent throne, which had been prepared for the occasion, and as soon as he was seated, paid him those honors which his predecessors had been accustomed to pay to the Roman emperors. Leo now presented him with the imperial mantle, on being invested with which, Charles returned to his palace amidst the acclamations of the multitude.

Favors such as these that were conferred by the pontiff on the French monarch, imperiously called for an adequate return, and it is due to Charlemagne to say that he was by no means deficient in gratitude. His name, and those of his successors, are consecrated as the saviors and benefactors of the Roman church. The Greek emperor had abdicated or forfeited his right to the exarchate of Ravenna, and the sword of Pepin, the father of Charles, had no sooner wrested it from the grasp of Astolphus, than he conferred it on the Roman pontiff, as a recompense "for the remission of his sins and the salvation of his soul." The splendid donation was granted in supreme and absolute dominion, and the world then beheld, for the first time, a Christian bishop invested with the prerogatives of a temporal prince; the choice of magistrates, and the exercise of justice; the imposition of taxes, and the wealth of the palace of Ravenna.

"Perhaps," says Gibbon, "the humility of a Christian priest should have rejected an earthly kingdom which it was not easy for him to govern without renouncing the virtues of his profession." I feel no disposition to controvert the justice of this remark; but humility does not appear to have been a very prominent trait in the characters of the Roman pontiffs; and the profuse liberality of the French kings, at this time, was not much calculated to promote it among them. By their bounty, the ancient patrimony of the church, which consisted of farms and houses, was converted into the temporal dominion of cities and provinces. The cities and islands which had formerly been annexed to the exarchate of Ravenna, were now also, by the gratitude of Charles, yielded to the pope, to enlarge the circle of the ecclesiastical state; and the new emperor lived to behold in his ecclesiastical ally, a greatness which, in the cool moments of reflection, he was unable to contemplate without jealousy. But Charles died in the year 814, at Aix-la-Chapelle, his usual residence, in the seventy-second year of his age, and the forty-sixth of his reign. He had previously associated HIS SON LOUIS with him in the administration of government; and, as if this great man had foreseen the approaching usurpations of the church, he placed the imperial crown upon the altar, and ordered the prince to put it on his own head, thereby intimating that he held it only of God. The young prince, though very amiable in his disposition and manners, appears to have been much inferior to his father in strength of mind. I have already had occasion to mention him in a former section as the friend and patron of Claude of Turin. His piety and parental fondness are praised by historians, but his abilities were inadequate to the support of so great a weight of empire. He rendered himself odious to the clergy, by attempting to reform certain abuses among them, not foreseeing that this powerful body would not pay the same deference to his authority, which had been yielded to the superior capacity of his father. Three years after his accession to the throne, he admitted his eldest son, Lothaire, to a participation of the French and German territories, declared his son Pepin, king of Aquitaine, and Louis king of Bavaria. This division gave offense to his nephew, Bernard, at that time king of Italy, who revolted, and levied war against his uncle, in contempt of his imperial authority, to which he was subject -- a rebellious conduct, in which he was encouraged by the archbishop of Milan and the bishop of Cremona. Louis, on this occasion, acted with rigor. He raised a powerful army, and was preparing to cross the Alps, when Bernard was abandoned by his troops, and the unfortunate prince, being made prisoner, was condemned to lose his head. His uncle mitigated the sentence to the loss of his eyes, but the unhappy prince died three days after the punishment was inflicted; and Louis, to prevent future troubles, ordered three natural sons of Charlemagne to be shut up in a convent.

In a little time the emperor was seized with keen remorse for his conduct. He accused himself of the murder of his nephew, and of tyrannic cruelty to his brothers. In this melancholy humor he was encouraged by the monks; and it at last grew to such a height, that he impeached himself in an assembly of the states, and requested the bishops to enjoin him public penance. The clergy, now sensible of his weakness, set no bounds to their usurpations. The popes concluded that they might do any thing under so pious a prince. They did not wait for the emperor’s confirmation of their election; the bishops exalted themselves above the throne, and the whole fraternity of the Catholic clergy claimed an exemption from all civil jurisdiction. Even the monks, while they pretended to renounce the world, seemed to aspire to the government of it.

In the year 822, the three sons of Louis were associated in a rebellion against their father, -- an unnatural crime, in which they were encouraged by some of the reigning clergy. The emperor, abandoned by his army, was made prisoner; and in all probability would have lost his crown had not the nobility pitied their humbled sovereign, and by sowing dissension among the three brothers, contrived to restore him to his dignity. In 832, the three brothers formed a new league against their father, and Gregory IV, then pope, went to France in the army of Lothaire, the eldest brother, under pretense of accommodating matters, but in reality with an intention of employing against the emperor that power which he derived from him, happy in the opportunity of asserting the supremacy and independence of the Holy See. The presence of the pope, in those days of superstition, was of itself sufficient to determine the fate of Louis. After a deceitful negotiation, and an interview with Gregory on the part of Lothaire, the unfortunate emperor found himself at the mercy of his rebellious sons. He was deposed in a tumultuous assembly, and Lothaire proclaimed in his stead; after which infamous transaction the pope returned to Rome. To give stability to this revolution, and at the same time to conceal the deformity of their own conduct, the bishops of Lothaire’s faction had recourse to a curious artifice. "A penitent," said they, "is incapable of all civil offices; a royal penitent must therefore be incapable of reigning; let us subject Louis to a perpetual penance, and he can never rescend the throne." He was accordingly arraigned in an assembly of the states, by Ebbo, archbishop of Rheims, and condemned to do penance for life. Louis was then prisoner in a monastery at Soissons, and being greatly intimidated, he patiently submitted to a ceremony no less solemn than degrading, lie prostrated himself on a hair cloth, which was spread before the altar, and owned himself guilty of the charges brought against him, in the presence of many bishops, canons, and monks -- Lothaire being also present, that he might enjoy the sight of his father’s humiliation. Nor was this all; the degraded emperor was compelled to read aloud a written confession, in which he was made to accuse himself of sacrilege and murder; and to enumerate among his crimes, the marching of troops in Lent, calling an assembly on Holy Thursday, and taking up arms to defend himself against his rebellious children! So easy is it for superstition to transform into crimes the most innocent, and even the most necessary actions. After having made this humiliating confession, Louis, at the command of the archbishop, laid aside his sword and belt, divested himself of his royal robes, put on the penitential sackcloth, and retired to the cell that was assigned him.

But the feelings of nature, and the voice of humanity, at length prevailed over the prejudices of the age and the policy of the clergy. Lothaire became an object of general abhorrence, and his father of compassion. His two brothers united against him, in behalf of that father whom they had contributed to humble. The nobility returned to their obedience, paying homage to Louis as their lawful sovereign; and the ambitious Lothaire was obliged to crave mercy in the sight of the whole army, at the feet of a parent and an emperor, whom he had lately insulted. Louis died in the year 840 near Mentz, in the sixty-fourth year of his age, and the twenty-seventh of his reign, leaving to his unnatural son Lothaire a crown, a sword, and a very rich scepter. The bishop of Mentz observing that he had left nothing to his son Louis, reminded him that at the least, forgiveness was his duty; "Yes, I forgive him," cried the dying prince, with great emotion; "but tell him from me that he ought to seek forgiveness of God, for bringing my gray hairs in sorrow to the grave" [Vita Ludov. Pii. Passim].

Lothaire succeeded his father in the imperial dignity, and, after a reign of fifteen years, took the habit of a monk, that, according to the language of those times, he might atone for his crimes, and though he had lived a tyrant, die a saint. In this pious disguise he expired, before he had worn it a week.

His father Louis, by a second marriage, had a son who was afterwards known by the name of Charles the Bald. At the time of his father’s death he was only seventeen years of age; but his father, in bequeathing the empire to Lothaire, had stipulated for a portion of territory to his youngest child, and the former to fulfill the wishes of his indulgent father and intreaties of a fond mother, consented to resign to him a part of his territories. But scarcely was Charles warm in his seat, when he conspired with his brother Louis to dispossess Lothaire of the empire. Here fraternal hatred appeared in all its horrors. A battle was fought at Fontenoy, in Burgundy, than which, few engagements that are upon record were more bloody; for 100,000 men are said to have fallen on the spot [Gibbon’s Rome, vol. 9, ch. 49]. Lothaire was defeated, and obliged to abandon France to the armies of his victorious brothers. To secure their conquest the latter applied to the clergy, and with the more confidence of success, as Lothaire, in order to raise his troops with greater expedition, had promised the Saxons the liberty of renouncing Christianity, the very idea of which was abhorred by the church of Rome. The bishops assembled at Aix-la-Chapelle, and after examining the misconduct of the emperor, inquired of the two princes, whether they chose to follow his example, or to govern according to the laws of God -- by which they meant, in enforcing Christianity upon the Saxons. Their answer may be easily anticipated. "Receive then the kingdom by the divine authority," added the prelates: "we exhort you, we command you to receive it." But Lothaire, by means of his indulgence to the Saxons, and other expedients, was enabled to raise a new army, and to recover his throne [Russel’s Modern Europe, vol. 1, let. 10].

Nothing is more clear, than that the clergy now aspired to the right of disposing of crowns, which they founded on the ancient Jewish practice of anointing kings. They had recourse to the most miserable fictions and sophisms to render themselves independent. They refused to take the oath of fidelity, "because sacred hands could not, without abomination, submit to hands impure!" One usurpation led to another; abuse constituted right -- a quibble appeared a divine law. Ignorance sanctified every thing, and the most enormous usurpations of the clergy obtained a ready sanction from the slavish superstition of the laity. One very popular argument which the former much insisted on was, that the splendor of their dignity was to the majesty of the emperors and kings as the effulgence of the sun to the borrowed light of the moon; and therefore they demanded and extorted from crowned heads the most extravagant marks of respect and the most debasing humiliations. They trumped up a collection of forged acts, known at present by the name of "The DECRETALS," spurious writings, in which are supposed the existence of ancient canons, ordaining that no provincial council shall be held without the permission of the pope; and that all ecclesiastical causes shall be under his jurisdiction. The words of the immediate successors of the apostles are also therein quoted, and they are supposed to have left writings behind them. All these being written in the wretched style of the eighth century, and the whole filled with blunders of the grossest kind, both historical and geographical, the artifice was sufficiently apparent; but they had only ignorant persons to deceive. These false decretals imposed upon mankind for eight hundred years, and though the fraud was at length detected, the customs established by them still subsist in some countries: their antiquity supplied the place of truth! The papal chair was filled about the middle of the ninth century by NICHOLAS I, one of the most obstinate, inflexible, and ambitious prelates that ever disgraced the priesthood. Even his own clergy, the bishop of Treves and Cologne accused him of making himself emperor of the world, an expression which, though somewhat strained, was not wholly without foundation. He asserted his dominion over the French clergy, and received appeals from all ecclesiastics, dissatisfied with their bishops. Hence he taught the people to acknowledge a supreme tribunal at a distance from their own country, and of course a foreign sway. He issued his orders in the most authoritative style, to regulate the disputed succession to the kingdom of Provence. "Let no one prevent the emperor," says he, "from governing the kingdoms which he holds in virtue of a succession confirmed by the holy see, and by the crown which the sovereign pontiff has set on his head."

It is, however, pleasing to find that, deplorable as was the state of things, this domineering conduct of the popes did not always go without remonstrance, even from some of the clergy themselves. Hincmar, archbishop of Rheims, for example, about the year 875, raised his voice in the most spirited manner against the arrogant pretensions of Adrian II, the successor of Nicholas. This bold and independent prelate desired the pope to call to mind that respect and submission which the ancient pontiffs had always paid to princes, and to reflect that his dignity gave him no right over the government of kingdoms; that he could not be at the same time pope and king: that the choice of a sovereign belongs to the people; that anathemas ill applied have no effect upon the soul; and that free men are not to be enslaved by a bishop of Rome [Fleury’s Eccles. Hist.]. But the voice of an individual is easily drowned in the clamors of a mob. The evil proceeded in defiance of the expostulation of Hincmar. About the year 877, Pope John VIII convened a council at Troyes in France, one of the canons of which is sufficiently remarkable to be adduced as a specimen of the spirit of the times. It expressly asserts, that "the powers of the world shall not dare to seat themselves in the presence of the bishops, unless desired." To dwell minutely upon this subject, and to illustrate the reign of the antichristian power by a copious detail of historical facts, though an easy task, would require more room than can be conveniently allotted to such a discussion in this sketch. The reader will probably be satisfied with this concise detail. Indeed, all our historians, civil and ecclesiastical, agree in describing the tenth century of the Christian era as the darkest epoch in the annals of mankind. "The history of the Roman pontiffs that lived in this [tenth] century," says the learned Mosheim, "is a history of so many monsters, and not of men; and exhibits a horrible series of the most flagitious, tremendous, and complicated crimes, as all writers, even those of the Romish communion, unanimously confess." Nor was the state of things much better in the Greek church at this period; as a proof of which, the same learned writer instances the example of Theophylact, patriarch of Constantinople, "This exemplary prelate, who sold every ecclesiastical benefice as soon as it became vacant, had in his stable above two thousand hunting horses, which he fed with pignuts, pistachios, dates, dried grapes, figs steeped in the most exquisite wines, to all which he added the richest perfumes. One Holy Thursday, as he was celebrating high mass, his groom brought him the joyful news that one of his favorite mares had foaled; upon which he threw down the Liturgy, left the church, and ran in rapture to the stable, where having expressed his joy at that grand event, he returned to the altar to finish the divine service, which he had left interrupted during his absence" [Quoted from Fleury’s Eccles. Hist.].

To avoid the necessity of recurring to a topic so replete with every thing that can excite disgust in the mind of a humble Christian, I shall take leave of it by a short review of the state of things as they existed in the middle of the eleventh century.

In the year 1056, Henry IV, surnamed the Great, though only five years old, ascended the throne of his father as emperor of Germany. During the first years of his reign, the empire was harassed with civil wars, and Italy was a prey to intestine disorders. Nicholas II, then filled the pontifical chair; and he caused a council to be convened which consisted of a hundred and thirteen bishops, who passed a decree, by which it was ordained, that in future the cardinals only should elect the pope, and that the election should be confirmed by the rest of the Roman clergy and the people, "saving the honor," it was added, "due to our dear son Henry, now king; and who, if it please God, shall one day be emperor, according to the privilege which we have already conferred upon him; and saving the honor of his successors, on whom the apostolic see shall confer the same high privilege.

There resided at this time at Rome, one HILDEBRAND, a monk of the order of Cluny, who had recently been created a cardinal; a man of a restless, fiery, and enterprising disposition; but chiefly remarkable for his furious zeal for the pretensions of the church. He was born at Soana in Tuscany, of obscure parents, brought up at Rome, and had been frequently employed by that court to manage various political concerns which required dexterity and resolution, and he had rendered himself famous in all parts of Italy for his zeal and intrepidity. Hildebrand had interest enough to procure himself to be elected to the pontifical chair, in the year 1073, by the title of GREGORY VII, and the papacy has not produced a more extraordinary character. "All that the malice or flattery of a multitude of writers have said of this pope, is concentrated in a portrait of him drawn by a Neapolitan artist, in which Gregory is represented as holding a crook in one hand, and a whip in the other, trampling scepters under his feet, with St. Peter’s net and fishes on either side of him" [Voltaire’s Universal History, vol. 1, ch. 36]. Gregory was installed by the people of Rome, without consulting the emperor, as had hitherto been customary; but though Henry had not been consulted upon the occasion, Gregory prudently waited for his confirmation of the choice before he assumed the tiara. He obtained it by this mark of submission: the emperor confirmed his election, and the new pontiff was not dilatory in pulling off the mask, for in a little time he raised a storm which fell with violence upon the head of Henry, and shook all the thrones in Christendom. He began his pontificate with excommunicating every ecclesiastic who should receive a benefice from a layman, and every layman by whom such benefice should be conferred. This was engaging the church in an open war with all the sovereigns of Europe. But the thunder of the holy see was more particularly directed against Henry, who, sensible of his danger and anxious to avert it, wrote a submissive letter to Gregory, and the latter pretended to take him into favor, after severely reprimanding him for the crimes of simony and debauchery, of which he now confessed himself guilty. The pope at the same time proposed a crusade, the object of which was to deliver the holy sepulcher at Jerusalem from the hands of the Turkish infidels; offering to head the Christians in person, and desiring Henry to serve as a volunteer under his command! Gregory next formed the project of making himself lord of Christendom, by at once dissolving the jurisdiction which kings and emperors had hitherto exercised over various orders of the clergy, and subjecting to the papal authority all temporal princes, rendering their dominions tributary to the see of Rome; and however romantic the undertaking may appear, it was not altogether without success. Solomon, king of Hungary, was at that time dethroned by his cousin Geysa, and fled to Henry for protection, renewing his homage to the latter as head of the empire. Gregory, who favored the cause of the usurper, exclaimed against this act of submission, and said in a letter to Solomon, "You ought to know, that the kingdom of Hungary belongs to the Roman church; and learn, that you will incur the indignation of the holy see, if you do not acknowledge that you hold your dominions of the pope, and not of the emperor." This presumptuous declaration, and the neglect with which it was treated, brought the quarrel between the empire and the church to a crisis: it was directed to Solomon, but intended for Henry.

Hitherto the princes of Christendom had enjoyed the right of nominating bishops and abbots, and of giving them investiture by the ring and crosier. The popes, on their part, had been accustomed to send legates to the emperors to entreat their assistance, to obtain their confirmation, or to desire them to come and receive papal sanction. Gregory now resolving to push the claim of investitures, sent two of his legates to summon Henry to appear before him as a delinquent, because he still continued to bestow investitures, notwithstanding the papal decree to the contrary: adding, that if he failed to yield obedience to the church, he must expect to be excommunicated and dethroned.

This arrogant message, from one whom he regarded as his vassal, greatly provoked Henry, who abruptly dismissed the legates, and lost no time in convoking an assembly of princes and dignified ecclesiastics at Worms; where after mature deliberation, they came to this conclusion, that Gregory having usurped the chair of St. Peter, by indirect means, infected the church of God with many novelties and abuses, and deviated from his duty to his sovereign in several instances, the emperor, by the supreme authority derived from his predecessors, ought to divest him of his dignity, and appoint a successor. Henry, consequently, sent an ambassador to Rome, with a formal deprivation of Gregory; who, in his turn, convoked a council, at which were present one hundred and ten bishops, who, unanimously agreed, that the pope had just cause to depose Henry, to annul the oath of allegiance which the princes and states had taken in his favor, and to prohibit them from holding any correspondence with him on pain of excommunication. And this execrable sentence was immediately fulminated against the emperor and his adherents. "In the name of Almighty God, and by your authority," said Gregory, addressing the members of the council, "I prohibit Henry from governing the Teutonic kingdom and Italy. I release all Christians from their oath of allegiance to him; and I strictly forbid all persons to serve or attend him as king."

This is the first instance of a pope presuming to deprive a sovereign of his crown; but, unhappily, it was too flattering to ecclesiastical pride to be the last. No preceding prelate had hitherto dared to use such imperious language as Gregory; for, though Louis, the son of Charles the Great, had been deposed by his bishops, there was at least some color for that step; they condemned him in appearance only to do public penance.

The circular letters written by Gregory breathe the same spirit as his sentence of deposition. In them he repeatedly asserts, that "bishops are superior to kings, and made to judge them" -- expressions equally artful and presumptuous. His object is said to have been that of engaging in the bonds of fidelity and allegiance to the pope as vicar of Christ, all the potentates of the earth, and to establish at Rome an annual assembly of bishops, by whom the contests which, from time to time, might arise between kingdoms and sovereign states were to be decided, the rights and pretensions of princes to be examined, and the fate of nations and empires determined [Mosheim’s Eccles. Hist. vol. 2, cent. 11, part 2].

Gregory well knew what consequences would result from the thunders of the church. The bishops in Germany immediately came over to his party, and drew with them many of the nobles. The Saxons took the opportunity of revolting: even the emperor’s favorite, Guelf, a nobleman to whom he had given the duchy of Bavaria, supported the mal-contents with that very power which he owed to his sovereign’s bounty; and the princes and prelates who had assisted in deposing Gregory, gave up their monarch to be tried by the pope, who was requested to come to Augsburg for that purpose.

To avoid the odium of this impending trial, Henry took the strange resolution of suddenly passing the Alps, accompanied only by a few domestics, and of throwing himself at the feet of Gregory, in order to implore his absolution. The pontiff was at that time on a visit to the countess or duchess Matilda, at Canosa, a fortress on the Appenines. At the gate of this mansion, the emperor presented himself as an humble penitent. He alone was admitted within the outer court, where, being stripped of his robes, and wrapped in sackcloth, he was compelled to remain three days, in the month of January (A.D. 1077), barefoot and fasting, before he was permitted to kiss the feet of his holiness! The indulgence was, however, at length granted him -- he was permitted to throw himself at the feet of the haughty pontiff, who condescended to grant him absolution, after he had sworn obedience to the pope in all things, and promised to submit to his solemn decision at Augsburgh; so that Henry reaped nothing but disgrace and mortification from his journey, while the pontiff, elate with triumph, and now considering himself as the lord and master of all the crowned heads in Christendom, said in several of his letters, that "it was his duty to pull down the pride of kings." Happily for Henry, all sense of propriety and of common decency was not banished from the earth. The princes of Italy were disgusted with the strange accommodation that had taken place between him and the pope. They never could forgive the insolence of the former, nor the abject humility of the latter. But their indignation at Gregory’s arrogance over-balanced their detestation of their monarch’s meanness. He took advantage of this temper, and, by a change of fortune hitherto unknown to the German emperors, found a strong party in Italy, when abandoned by his own subjects. All Lombardy took up arms against the pope, while the latter was raising all Germany against the emperor. The former had recourse to every art to procure the election of another emperor in Germany, while Henry, on his part, left nothing undone to persuade the people of Italy to choose another pope. The Germans chose Rodolph, duke of Suabia, who was solemnly crowned at Mentz; and this gave Gregory an opportunity of exercising all his finesse in order to extort submission from Henry. He affected to be displeased that Rodolph was consecrated without his order. He had deposed Henry, but it was still in his power to pardon him -- he therefore declared that he would acknowledge as emperor and king of Germany that claimant who should be most submissive to the holy see.

But Henry was not now to be duped. He chose rather to trust to the valor of his arms than to the generosity of the pope, and therefore marched his troops against his rival Rodolph, whom he defeated in several engagements. Gregory, seeing no hopes of submission, thundered out a second sentence of excommunication, in which, after depriving Henry of strength in combat, and condemning him never to be victorious -- he desires the world to take notice that it is in the pope’s power to take away empires, kingdoms, principalities, etc. and to bestow them on whom he pleases. The whole concludes with the following extraordinary apostrophe to the apostles, Peter and Paul: "Make all men sensible that, as you can bind and loose every thing in heaven, you can also upon earth, take from or give to, every one according to his deserts, empires, kingdoms, principalities. Let the kings and princes of the age instantly feel your power, that they may not dare to despise the orders of your church; and let your justice be so speedily executed upon Henry, that nobody may doubt of his falling by your means and not by chance" [Fleury’s Eccles. History].

But the apostles were either deaf to the prayer of their pretended successor, or declined their co-operation with it. Henry triumphed over his enemies. Rodolph had his hand cut off in a battle which was fought with great fury near Mersburgh, in Saxony, and, discouraged by the misfortune of their chief, his followers gave way. Rodolph, perceiving his end approaching, ordered the amputated member to be brought him, and thus addressed his officers. "Behold the hand with which I took the oath of allegiance to Henry -- an oath which, at the instigation of Rome, I have violated, in perfidiously aspiring to an honor that was not due to me." The affairs of Henry now revived apace. A new pope was elected, who took the title of Clement III, and the emperor, thus delivered from his formidable antagonist, soon dispersed the rest of his enemies in Germany, and proceeded to Italy, to settle the new pontiff in the papal chair. The gates of Rome being shut against him, he was compelled to attack the city in form. After a siege of two years, it was taken by assault, and with difficulty saved from pillage, but Gregory retired into the castle of St. Angelo, from whence he hurled defiance, and fulminated his thunder against the conqueror. The siege of St. Angelo was now prosecuted with vigor, but in the absence of Henry, Gregory found means to escape, and died soon after at Salerno, A.D. 1085. His last words were, "I have loved justice and hated iniquity; therefore I die in exile" [Life of Gregory VII by Dithmar].

But the troubles of Henry did not terminate with the life of Gregory. The pontiffs who succeeded proved as inimical to his peace and tranquillity as their predecessor had been. Urban II contrived, in conjunction with the countess Matilda, to seduce the emperor’s son into a rebellion against his father. This young prince, whose name was Conrad, assumed the title of king of Italy, and succeeded so well in his usurpation, that the greater part of the cities of Italy and their nobles acknowledged him as their sovereign. The emperor, despairing of being able to reduce him to obedience by arms, assembled the German princes, who put the delinquent to the ban* of the empire, and declared his brother Henry king of the Romans. Two years afterwards both Conrad and the pope died -- the latter being succeeded in the papal chair by Pascal II (another Gregory) and the former by his younger brother Henry as king of Italy. [* The word ban originally signified banner, afterwards edict, and lastly, a declaration of outlawry, which was thus intimated: "We declare thy wife a widow, thy children orphans, and send thee, in the name of the devil, to the four corners of the earth."]

The new pope was scarcely invested with office ere he contrived to excite young Henry to rebel against his father. He called a council, to which he summoned the aged monarch; and as the latter did not obey the citation, he excommunicated him for the schisms which he had introduced into the church; stimulating his son to rebellion, by alleging that he was bound to take upon himself the reins of government, as he could not acknowledge an excommunicated king or father. In vain did the emperor use every paternal remonstrance to dissuade his son from proceeding to extremities; the breach became wider, and each prepared for the decision of the sword. But the son, dreading his father’s superiority, and confiding in his tenderness, had recourse to a stratagem as base as it was effectual. He threw himself unexpectedly at the emperor’s feet, and implored pardon for his undutiful behavior, which he attributed to the influence of evil counselors. In consequence of this submission, he was taken into favor by his indulgent parent, who instantly dismissed his army. The ungrateful youth now revealed the perfidy that was in his heart; he ordered his father to be confined -- assembled a diet of his own confederates, at which the pope’s legate presided, and repeated the sentence of excommunication against the emperor, whose dignity was instantly transferred to his rebellious son.

The archbishops of Mentz and Cologne were sent as deputies to the old emperor, to intimate his deposition and demand his regalia. Henry received this deputation with equal surprise and concern; and finding that the chief accusation against him was "the scandalous manner in which he had set bishopricks to sale," he thus addressed the audacious ecclesiastics: "If I have prostituted the benefices of the church for hire, you, yourselves, are the most proper persons to convict me of that simony. Say then, I conjure you in the name of the eternal God! what have I exacted, or what have I received, for having promoted you to the dignities that you now enjoy?" They acknowledged that he was innocent, so far as regarded their preferments. "And yet," continued he, "the archbishops of Mentz and Cologne, being two of the best in my gift, I might have filled my coffers by exposing them to sale. I bestowed them, however, upon you, out of free grace and favor, and a worthy return you make to my benevolence! Do not, I beseech you, become abettors of those who have lifted up their hands against their lord and master in defiance of faith, gratitude, and allegiance."

As the unfeeling prelates, deaf to this pathetic address, insisted on his compliance with the object of their mission, Henry retired, and put on his regal ornaments; then returning to the apartment he had left, and seating himself on a chair of state, he renewed his remonstrance in these words: "Here are the marks of that royalty with which I was invested by God, and the princes of the empire; if you disregard the wrath of heaven, and the eternal reproach of mankind, so much as to lay violent hands on your sovereign, you may strip me of them, I am not in a condition to defend myself."

Regardless of these expostulations, the two archbishops snatched the crown from his head, and dragging him from his chair, forcibly pulled off his robes. While thus employed, Henry exclaimed, "Great God! (the tears flowing down his venerable cheeks) thou art the God of vengeance, and wilt repay this outrage. I have sinned, I own, and merited such shame by the follies of my youth; but thou wilt not fail to punish those traitors for their violence, ingratitude, and perjury."

To such a degree of wretchedness was this prince afterwards reduced by the barbarity of his son, that, destitute of the common necessaries of life, he entreated the bishop of Spire, whom he had promoted to that see, to grant him a canonry for his subsistence, representing that he was capable of performing the office of "chanter or reader." Disappointed in that humble request, he shed a flood of tears, and turning to those who were present, said, with a deep sigh, "My dear friends, at least have pity upon my condition, for I am touched by the hand of the Lord."

Yet in the midst of these distresses, when every one thought his courage was utterly extinguished, and his soul overwhelmed by despondence, Henry found means to escape from custody and reached Cologne, where he was recognized as lawful emperor. Repairing next to the Netherlands, he found friends who raised a considerable body of men to assert his claims, and facilitate his restoration; he also issued circular letters, calling upon the princes of Christendom to interest themselves in his cause. He even wrote to the pope, intimating that he was inclined to an accommodation, provided it could be settled without prejudice to his cause. But before any thing material could be executed in his favor, Henry died at Leige (Aug. 7, 1106) in the fifty-sixth year of his age, and the forty-ninth of his reign. He was a prince of great courage and excellent endowments both of body and mind. In his appearance there was an air of dignity which spoke the greatness of his soul. He possessed a natural fund of eloquence and vivacity, his temper was placid and merciful, his kindness and benevolence extensive, and his life exhibited an admirable pattern of fortitude and resignation. [Russell’s Modern Europe, vol. 1, part 1, letter 23, and the authors there quoted on this subject.]