The Fortunes Of Henry The Fourth

At the festival of Easter, in the year 1062, a great banquet was given

in the royal palace at Kaiserswerth, on the Rhine. The Empress Agnes,

widow of Henry III., and regent of the empire, was present, with her

son, then a boy of eleven. A pious and learned woman was the empress,

but she lacked the energy necessary to control the unquiet spirits of

her times. Gentleness and persuasion were the means by which she hoped

t influence the rude dukes and haughty archbishops of the empire, but

qualities such as these were wasted on her fierce subjects, and served

but to gain her the contempt of some and the dislike of others. A plot

to depose the weakly-mild regent and govern the empire in the name of

the youthful monarch was made by three men, Otto of Norheim, the

greatest general of the state, Ekbert of Meissen, its most valiant

knight, and Hanno, Archbishop of Cologne, its leading churchman. These

three men were present at the banquet, which they had fixed upon as the

occasion for carrying out their plot.



The feast over, the three men rose and walked with the boy monarch to a

window of the palace that overlooked the Rhine. On the waters before

them rode at anchor a handsome vessel, which the child looked upon with

eyes of delight.






"Would you like to see it closer?" asked Hanno. "I will take you on

board, if you wish."



"Oh, will you?" pleaded the boy. "I shall be so glad."



The three conspirators walked with him to the stream, and rowed out to

the vessel, the empress viewing them without suspicion of their design.

But her doubts were aroused when she saw that the anchor had been raised

and that the sails of the vessel were being set. Filled with sudden

alarm she left the palace and hastened to the shore, just as the

kidnapping craft began to move down the waters of the stream.



At the same moment young Henry, who had until now been absorbed in

gazing delightedly about the vessel, saw what was being done, and heard

his mother's cries. With courage and resolution unusual for his years he

broke, with a cry of anger, from those surrounding him, and leaped into

the stream, with the purpose of swimming ashore. But hardly had he

touched the water when Count Ekbert sprang in after him, seized him

despite his struggles, and brought him back to the vessel.



The empress entreated in pitiful accents for the return of her son, but

in vain; the captors of the boy were not of the kind to let pity

interfere with their plans; on down the broad stream glided the vessel,

the treacherous vassals listening in silence to the agonized appeals of

the distracted mother, and to the mingled prayers and demands of the

young emperor to be taken back. The country people, furious on learning

that the emperor had been stolen, and was being carried away before

their eyes, pursued the vessel for some distance on both sides of the

river. But their cries and threats were of no more avail than had been

the mother's tears and prayers. The vessel moved on with increasing

speed, the three kidnappers erect on its deck, their only words being

those used to cajole and quiet their unhappy prisoner, whom they did

their utmost to solace by promises and presents.



The vessel continued its course until it reached Cologne, where the

imperial captive was left under the charge of the archbishop, his two

confederates fully trusting him to keep close watch and ward over their

precious prize. The empress was of the same opinion. After vainly

endeavoring to regain her lost son from his powerful captors, she

resigned the regency and retired with a broken heart to an Italian

convent, in which the remainder of her sad life was to be passed.



The unhappy boy soon learned that his new lot was not to be one of

pleasure. He had a life of severe discipline before him. Bishop Hanno

was a stern and rigid disciplinarian, destitute of any of the softness

to which the lad had been accustomed, and disposed to rule all under his

control with a rod of iron. He kept his youthful captive strictly

immured in the cloister, where he had to endure the severest discipline,

while being educated in Latin and the other learning of the age.



The regency given up by Agnes was instantly assumed by the ambitious

churchman, and a decree to that effect was quickly passed by the lords

of the diet, on the grounds that Hanno was the bishop of the diocese in

which the emperor resided. The character of Hanno is variously

represented by historians. While some accuse him of acts of injustice

and cruelty, others speak of him as a man of energy, yet one whose holy

life, his paternal care for his see, and his zealous reformation of

monasteries and foundation of churches, gained him the character of a

saint.



Young Henry remained but a year or two in the hands of this stern

taskmaster. An imperative necessity called Hanno to Italy, and he was

obliged to leave the young monarch under the charge of Adalbert,

Archbishop of Bremen, a personage of very different character from

himself. Adalbert, while a churchman of great ability, was a courtier

full of ambitious views. He was one of the most polished and learned men

of his time, at once handsome, witty, and licentious, his character

being in the strongest contrast to the stern harshness of Hanno and the

coarse manners of the nobles of that period.



It would have been far better, however, for Henry could he have remained

under the control of Hanno, with all his severity. It is true that the

kindness and gentleness of Adalbert proved a delightful change to the

growing boy, and the unlimited liberty he now enjoyed was in pleasant

contrast to his recent restraint, while the gravity and severe study of

Hanno's cloister were agreeably replaced by the gay freedom of

Adalbert's court, in which the most serious matters were treated as

lightly as a jest. But the final result of the change was that the boy's

character became thoroughly corrupted. Adalbert surrounded his youthful

charge with constant alluring amusements, using the influence thus

gained to obtain new power in the state for himself, and places of honor

and profit for his partisans. He inspired him also with a contempt for

the rude-mannered dukes of the empire, and for what he called the stupid

German people, while he particularly filled the boy's mind with a

dislike for the Saxons, with whom the archbishop was at feud. All this

was to have an important influence on the future life of the growing

monarch.



It was more Henry's misfortune than his fault that he grew up to manhood

as a compound of sensuality, levity, malice, treachery, and other mean

qualities, for his nature had in it much that was good, and in his

after-life he displayed noble qualities which had been long hidden under

the corrupting faults of his education. The crime of the ambitious

nobles who stole him from his pious and gentle mother went far to ruin

his character, and was the leading cause of the misfortunes of his life.



As to the character of the youthful monarch, and its influence upon the

people, a few words may suffice. His licentious habits soon became a

scandal and shame to the whole empire, the more so that the mistresses

with whom he surrounded himself were seen in public adorned with gold

and precious stones which had been taken from the consecrated vessels of

the church. His dislike of the Saxons was manifested in the scorn with

which he treated this section of his people, and the taxes and enforced

labors with which they were oppressed.



The result of all this was an outbreak of rebellion. Hanno, who had

beheld with grave disapproval the course taken by Adalbert, now exerted

his great influence in state affairs, convoked an assembly of the

princes of the empire, and cited Henry to appear before it. On his

refusal, his palace was surrounded and his person seized, while Adalbert

narrowly escaped being made prisoner. He was obliged to remain in

concealment during the three succeeding years, while the indignant

Saxons, taking advantage of the opportunity for revenge, laid waste his

lands.



The licentious young ruler found his career of open vice brought to a

sudden end. The stern Hanno was again in power. Under his orders the

dissolute courtiers were dispersed, and Henry was compelled to lead a

more decorous life, a bride being found for him in the person of Bertha,

daughter of the Italian Margrave of Susa, to whom he had at an earlier

date been affianced. She was a woman of noble spirit, but,

unfortunately, was wanting in personal beauty, in consequence of which

she soon became an object of extreme dislike to her husband, a dislike

which her patience and fidelity seemed rather to increase than to

diminish.



The feeling of the young monarch towards his dutiful wife was overcome

in a singular manner, which is well worth describing. Henry at first was

eager to free himself from the tie that bound him to the unloved Bertha,

a resolution in which he was supported by Siegfried, Archbishop of

Mayence, who offered to assist him in getting a divorce. At a diet held

at Worms, Henry demanded a separation from his wife, to whom he

professed an unconquerable aversion. His efforts, however, were

frustrated by the pope's legate, who arrived in Germany during these

proceedings, and the licentious monarch, finding himself foiled in these

legal steps, sought to gain his end by baser means. He caused beautiful

women and maidens to be seized in their homes and carried to his palace

as ministers to his pleasure, while he exposed the unhappy empress to

the base solicitations of his profligate companions, offering them large

sums if they could ensnare her, in her natural revulsion at his

shameless unfaithfulness.



But the virtue of Bertha was proof against all such wiles, and the story

goes that she turned the tables on her vile-intentioned husband in an

amusing and decisive manner. On one occasion, as we are informed, the

empress appeared to listen to the solicitations of one of the would-be

seducers, and appointed a place and time for a secret meeting with this

profligate. The triumphant courtier duly reported his success to Henry,

who, overjoyed, decided to replace him in disguise. At the hour fixed he

appeared and entered the chamber named by Bertha, when he suddenly found

himself assailed by a score of stout servant-maids, armed with rods,

which they laid upon his back with all the vigor of their arms. The

surprised Lothario ran hither and thither to escape their blows, crying

out that he was the king. In vain his cries; they did not or would not

believe him; and not until he had been most soundly beaten, and their

arms were weary with the exercise, did they open the door of the

apartment and suffer the crest-fallen reprobate to escape.



This would seem an odd means of gaining the affection of a truant

husband, but it is said to have had this effect upon Henry, his wronged

wife from that moment gaining a place in his heart, into which she had

fairly cudgelled herself. The man was really of susceptible disposition,

and her invincible fidelity had at length touched him, despite himself.

From that moment he ceased his efforts to get rid of her, treated her

with more consideration, and finally settled down to the fact that a

beautiful character was some atonement for a homely face, and that

Bertha was a woman well worthy his affection.



We have now to describe the most noteworthy event in the life of Henry

IV., and the one which has made his name famous in history,--his contest

with the great ecclesiastic Hildebrand, who had become pope under the

title of Gregory VII. Though an aged man when raised to the papacy,

Gregory's vigorous character displayed itself in a remarkable activity

in the enhancement of the power of the church. His first important step

was directed against the scandals of the priesthood in the matter of

celibacy, the marriage of priests having become common. A second decree

of equal importance followed. Gregory forbade the election of bishops by

the laity, reserving this power to the clergy, under confirmation by the

pope. He further declared that the church was independent of the state,

and that the extensive lands held by the bishops were the property of

the church, and free from control by the monarch.



These radical decrees naturally aroused a strong opposition, in the

course of which Henry came into violent controversy with the pope.

Gregory accused Henry openly of simony, haughtily bade him to come to

Rome, and excommunicated the bishops who had been guilty of the same

offence. The emperor, who did not know the man with whom he had to deal,

retorted by calling an assembly of the German bishops at Worms, in which

the pope was declared to be deposed from his office.



The result was very different from that looked for by the volatile young

ruler. The vigorous and daring pontiff at once placed Henry himself

under interdict, releasing his subjects from their oath of allegiance,

and declaring him deprived of the imperial dignity. The scorn with which

the emperor heard of this decree was soon changed to terror when he

perceived its effect upon his people. The days were not yet come in

which the voice of the pope could be disregarded. With the exception of

the people of the cities and the free peasantry, who were opposed to

the papal dominion, all the subjects of the empire deserted Henry,

avoiding him as though he were infected with the plague. The Saxons flew

to arms; the foreign garrisons were expelled; the imprisoned princes

were released; all the enemies whom Henry had made rose against him; and

in a diet, held at Oppenheim, the emperor was declared deposed while the

interdict continued, and the pope was invited to visit Augsburg; in

order to settle the affairs of Germany. The election of a successor to

Henry was even proposed, and, to prevent him from communicating with the

pope, his enemies passed a decree that he should remain in close

residence at Spires.



The situation of the recently great monarch had suddenly become

desperate. Never had a decree of excommunication against a crowned ruler

been so completely effective. The frightened emperor saw but one hope

left, to escape to Italy before the princes could prevent him, and

obtain release from the interdict at any cost, and with whatever

humiliation it might involve. With this end in view he at once took to

flight, accompanied by Bertha, his infant son, and a single knight, and

made his way with all haste towards the Alps.



The winter was one of the coldest that Germany had ever known, the Rhine

remaining frozen from St. Martin's day of 1076 to April, 1077. About

Christmas of this severe winter the fugitives reached the snow-covered

Alps, having so far escaped the agents of their enemies, and crossed

the mountains by the St. Bernard pass, the difficulty of the journey

being so great that the empress had to be slid down the precipitous

paths by ropes in the hands of guides, she being wrapped in an ox-hide

for protection.



Italy was at length reached, after the greatest dangers and hardships

had been surmounted. Here Henry, much to his surprise, found prevailing

a very different spirit from that which he had left behind him. The

nobles, who cordially hated Gregory, and the bishops, many of whom were

under interdict, hailed his coming with joy, with the belief "that the

emperor was coming to humiliate the haughty pope by the power of the

sword." He might soon have had an army at his back, but that he was too

thoroughly downcast to think of anything but conciliation, and to the

disgust of the Italians insisted on humiliating himself before the

powerful pontiff.



Gregory was little less alarmed than the emperor on learning of Henry's

sudden arrival in Italy. He was then on his way to Augsburg, and, in

doubt as to the intentions of his enemy, took hasty refuge in the castle

of Canossa, then held by the Countess Matilda, recently a widow, and the

most powerful and influential princess in Italy.



But the alarmed pope was astonished and gratified when he learned that

the emperor, instead of intending an armed assault upon him, had applied

to the Countess Matilda, asking her to intercede in his behalf with the

pontiff. Gregory's acute mind quickly perceived the position in which

Henry stood, and, with great severity, he at first refused to speak of a

reconciliation, but referred all to the diet; then, on renewed

entreaties, he consented to receive Henry at Canossa, if he would come

alone, and as a penitent. The castle was surrounded with three walls,

within the second of which Henry was admitted, his attendants being left

without. He had laid aside every badge of royalty, being clothed in

penitential dress and barefoot, and fasting and praying from morning to

evening. For a second and even a third day was he thus kept, and not

until the fourth day, moved at length by the solicitations of Matilda

and those about him, did Gregory grant permission for Henry to enter his

presence. An interview now took place, in which the pope consented to

release the penitent emperor from the interdict. One of the conditions

of this release was he should leave to Gregory the settlement of affairs

in Germany, and to give up all exercise of his imperial power until he

should be granted permission to exercise it again.



This agreement was followed by a solemn mass, after which Gregory spoke

to the following effect: As regarded the crimes of which Henry had

accused him, he could easily bring evidence in disproof of the charges

made, but he would invoke the judgment of God alone. "May the body of

Jesus Christ, which I am about to receive," he said, "be the witness of

my innocence. I beseech the Almighty thus to dispel all suspicions, if

I am innocent; to strike me dead on the spot, if guilty."



He then received one-half the Sacred Host, and turning to the king,

offered him the remaining half, bidding him to follow his example, if he

held himself to be guiltless. Henry refused the ordeal, doubtless

because he did not dare to risk the penalty, and was glad enough to

escape from the presence of the pope, a humble penitent.



This ended Henry's career of humiliation. It was followed by a period of

triumph. On leaving the castle of Canossa he found the people of

Lombardy so indignant at his cowardice, that their scorn induced him to

break the oath he had just taken, gather an army, and assail the castle,

in which he shut up the pope so closely that he could neither proceed to

Augsburg nor return to Rome.



This siege, however, was not of long continuance. Henry soon found

himself recalled to Germany, where his enemies had elected Rudolf, Duke

of Swabia, emperor in his stead. A war broke out, which continued for

several years, at the end of which Gregory, encouraged by a temporary

success of Rudolf's party, pronounced in his favor, invested him with

the empire as a fief of the papacy, and once more excommunicated Henry.

It proved a false move. Henry had now learned his own power, and ceased

to fear the pope. He had strong support in the cities and among the

clergy, whom Gregory's severity had offended, and immediately convoked a

council, by which the pope was again deposed, and the Archbishop of

Ravenna elected in his stead, under the title of Clement III.



In this year, 1080, a battle took place in which Rudolf was mortally

wounded, and the party opposed to Henry left without a leader, though

the war continued. And now Henry, seeing that he could trust his cause

in Germany to the hands of his lieutenants, determined to march upon his

pontifical foe in Italy, and take revenge for his bitter humiliation at

Canossa.



He crossed the Alps, defeated the army which Matilda had raised in the

pope's cause, and laid siege to Rome, a siege which continued without

success for the long period of three years. At length the city was

taken, Wilprecht von Groitsch, a Saxon knight, mounting the walls, and

making his way with his followers into the city, aided by treachery from

within. Gregory hastily shut himself up in the castle of St. Angelo, in

which he was besieged by the Romans themselves, and from which he bade

defiance to Henry with the same inflexible will as ever. Henry offered

to be reconciled with him if he would crown him, but the vigorous old

pontiff replied that, "He could only communicate with him when he had

given satisfaction to God and the church." The emperor, thereupon,

called the rival pope, Clement, to Rome, was crowned by him, and

returned to Germany, leaving Clement in the papal chair and Gregory

still shut up in St. Angelo.



But a change quickly took place in the fortunes of the indomitable old

pope. Robert Guiscard, Duke of Normandy, who had won for himself a

principality in lower Italy, now marched to the relief of his friend

Gregory, stormed and took the city at the head of his Norman

freebooters, and at once began the work of pillage, in disregard of

Gregory's remonstrances. The result was an unusual one. The citizens of

Rome, made desperate by their losses, gathered in multitudes and drove

the plunderers from their city, and Gregory with them. The Normans, thus

expelled, took the pope to Salerno, where he died the following year,

1085, his last words being, "I have loved justice and hated iniquity,

therefore do I die in exile."



As for his imperial enemy, the remainder of his life was one of

incessant war. Years of battle were needed to put down his enemies in

the state, and his triumph was quickly followed by the revolt of his own

son, Henry, who reduced his father so greatly that the old emperor was

thrown into prison and forced to sign an abdication of the throne. It is

said that he became subsequently so reduced that he was forced to sell

his boots to obtain means of subsistence, but this story may reasonably

be doubted. Henry died in 1106, again under excommunication, so that he

was not formally buried in consecrated ground until 1111, the interdict

being continued for five years after his death.