Historical Summary

ONE of the great struggles of the Middle Ages involved the imperial-papal partnership. Who was entitled to the dominant place—the German kings, who claimed to be the Holy Roman emperors, or the pope?

The issue came to a head during the pontificate of Gregory VII, who, until his election to the see of St. Peter, bore the name of Hildebrand. Small and unattractive in person, but possessed of a genius for leadership and a mastery of statecraft rivaling Napoleon’s, he applied himself diligently to the task of achieving a theocratic society, at the head of which was to be the pope. In his Dictatus Papae he claimed that "the pope is the only person whose feet are kissed by all princes" and declared himself supreme. Only churchmen, he further contended, should confer the symbols of ecclesiastical authority on elected bishops—a tender point with kings and princes who had been accustomed to interfere in the selection of the higher clergy.

When Henry IV, at this time king of Germany, refused to accept papal overlordship, Gregory warned him to "treat with more honor the head of the Church, that is, St. Peter, the prince of the apostles." Henry wrote a stinging reply, beginning:

"Henry, king not by usurpation, but through the holy ordination of God, to Hildebrand, at present not pope but false monk. This is the salutation you deserve, for you have never held any office in the Church without making it a source of confusion and a curse to Christian men, instead of an honor and a blessing."

The letter ended with the words: "I, Henry, king by the grace of God, do say unto thee: ’Come down, come down, and be damned through all the ages!’ "

In a brilliant gamble that public opinion would support him, Gregory countered by straightway excommunicating Henry. The German nobles—feudal and ecclesiastical lords who were envious of Henry—promptly advised the monarch that unless he were freed within a year from the ban of excommunication, he would be deposed. Faced with this ultimatum, Henry swallowed his pride and agreed to make amends.

As the year 1076 was drawing to a close Henry set out on his humiliating journey to Italy to come to terms with the pope. In January of the following year he reached the town of Canossa. Learning that the pope was stopping at the castle of the countess of Tuscany, Henry stood for three days and three nights before this edifice, stripped of all regalia, "wretched, barefooted, and clad in wool," awaiting the forgiveness of the pope. The spectacle of the mightiest king in Christendom begging pardon from the pontiff in this sensational fashion was one to amaze the whole Christian world—king, lord, and peasant alike.

Henry had shrewdly impaled Gregory on the horns of a dilemma. Should the pope ignore him and assume the dictatorship of German affairs so dear to his heart or should he receive him as a penitent and grant him absolution? As a good Catholic, there was in fact only one course open to the pontiff, and Henry pocketed his pride and seized the chance to rebuild his fortunes.

Gregory’s own account of the submission at Canossa:

Key Quote

The entire Christian world is amazed by the spectacle of the mightiest king in Christendom beseeching the pope for forgiveness.