494 – Power Struggles: Part One

In early February of 1102, Queen Matilda was giving birth.

Now, while we have a rather precise record of King Henry's itinerary,

the life of Queen Matilda isn't nearly as well-documented,

so we don't know exactly where she was at this very important moment.

One suggested possibility is Sutton Cortenay.

Historians reason that because Abbott Faratius was the Queen's physician

and Sutton Cortenay was close to Faratius' home Abbey of Abington,

then maybe that's where she was for the final days of her pregnancy.

And honestly, the idea that Matilda had to travel to accommodate the wishes of her OBGYN

makes that actually kind of sound plausible.

R's barely even made it to the delivery.

Now, the 12th century biographer of Thomas Beckett believed that Queen Matilda

actually went to labor in London, though we probably won't ever know for sure where she was.

But this was a very exciting moment for the royal family.

Because with an heir, that tontine between Henry and Robert would be leaning heavily in Henry's

favor. Also, you know, they'd have a baby, which for most people would be the exciting part of it.

But let's face it, Henry did have plenty of kids already.

The guy couldn't throw a peasant without hitting one of his own bastards.

But then again, an official heir?

Well, that was different.

So this is a big deal.

And then at last, the baby was born.

And even better, both the mother and child were safe.

And the kingdom welcomed their new princess.

Yeah, these people were not that big on girls.

Boys is what they wanted.

Not sure where they thought all the boys were going to come from,

but no one accused 12th century Normans of being geniuses.

So this wasn't greeted as particularly good news.

With the exception that it did confirm that Queen Matilda was fertile,

which meant they could try again to have a boy.

Because everyone knew that the future of this dynasty and this kingdom would lay with a boy.

Not with some girl who probably would never amount to much.

But, you know, she was here, so might as well name her.

And Henry almost certainly picked the name.

Matilda.

Though everyone just called her mawd.

Welcome to the British history podcast.

My name is Jamie and this is episode 494.

Power struggles.

Part one.

A lot is going to happen all at once.

1101 and 1102 were the 2025 and 2026 of the 12th century.

But while the events are overlapping, the stories themselves are rather distinct.

And the two big ones are a religious power struggle and a political power struggle.

And while Henry is involved in both, these are very different stories.

And if I tell them to in chronological order,

you're going to get whiplash between the military maneuvers and the mean ecclesiastical letters.

So here's what I'm going to do.

I'm going to tell these stories individually in two separate episodes.

But I'm going to let you know where they overlap.

This first episode is going to be about Henry and Anselm.

And then the next one is going to be about Henry's revenge tour against some of the nobles.

And again, I'm going to let you know in both episodes when the events overlap.

Ready?

Okay.

So when Henry's boys arrived at Canterbury in the fall of 1101,

the atmosphere was already tense.

I mean, the Windsor Court of 1101 had not gone the way Anselm had anticipated.

He had expected to be rewarded for his loyalty.

But instead, he got publicly humiliated and told that he was going to be exiled for disobedience

to the Crown, which actually was probably the reason why the King's buddies were rolling

up the driveway right now.

But, if we're being honest, this was just the cherry on top of a whole host of things that

had been eating away at the Archbishop.

Now, you might recall that this collision course was sent into motion when both King Henry

and Anselm had written to the Pope asking for guidance.

What you might not recall is that when the Pope sent his reply, it was addressed to Henry,

not Anselm.

Now, a reasonable person would assume that since the Pope was telling Henry to knock it off and

behave, that it made sense that the letter would be addressed to the King, especially when

that King came from a family that was getting rather famous for their brittle egos.

A reasonable person would also note that this same letter was pretty clearly backing up Anselm

here. But Canterbury was all out of reasonable people. They just had Anselm and Edmer.

And Anselm and Edmer were convinced that the Pope wrote directly to the King because he was

telling the Archbishop to go fuck himself. And here's the genuinely crazy part of all of this.

Anselm and Edmer might have been right. But to explain why the Pope might have been suddenly

giving Anselm the finger, we need to discuss a religious power struggle that was taking place

at the very same time that Robert and Henry were engaged in a political power struggle

over the throne of England. And incredibly, this religious power struggle was not the

Investiture Controversy. Now of course, the Investiture Controversy was front and center of the

minds of most people. And at the heart of it was a question of who gets to do the ritual that makes

a bishop. Because that's what Investiture is. But while it's just a ceremony, this wasn't a

minor disagreement over how to distribute scarves. This was basically gang warfare. And the only

reason they weren't sanding each other's faces off over it was because no one had invented a

belt sander yet. Who controlled this ritual was important to a lot of powerful people,

which was why each side of the conflict had their own Pope. And when these guys weren't excommunicating

each other, they were fighting in the streets, or fighting in the countryside, or literally

engaging in mutilation, and even sometimes kidnapping popes. Because as we've chatted about on

the members' feed, this was all part of a much larger plan that the Matildings and their allies

had been working on for ages. Because they wanted to make the Pope the ultimate authority over

everyone. Not just religious orders, everyone. And that had been noticed by kings and emperors.

And many of them had no intention of losing any authority to anyone, much less a Pope.

So this was a huge deal. It literally defined this era of political and religious thought.

And so you would be forgiven if you assumed that the religious power struggle that Anselm

was mired in had at least something to do with the investiture controversy. But it didn't.

In England, there was another religious power struggle that was taking place. And on one side of

the conflict was Anselm. And on the other side was not Henry. It was the Pope. Not only that, but

what might have shocked the hell out of Henry, and will probably shock you as well,

is that for Anselm, the investiture controversy wasn't his main concern. That was a side quest.

And it's why when Anselm and Henry wrote to the Pope, Anselm only dedicated a couple lines

to the investiture controversy. The bulk of his letter was instead dedicating to pitching an

absolute sh** fit over the presence of a guy named Guy of Vienna. Most of the letter was basically

what the f**k was this Guy doing in England, your holiness. Now, Guy wasn't just some random

Guy. He was an archbishop, but much more importantly, he was a papal legate. And actually,

this guy was so high up in the papal world, he's going to go on to become a Pope himself. So this

Guy was a big deal. Which begs the question, why was Anselm so mad that Guy was in England?

Well, it's because he was a papal legate. And Anselm didn't think that there should be any

papal legates being sent to England because there already was a papal legate in England.

Him. You see, Anselm, like Glenn Frank, believed that because the Archbishopric of Canterbury

was the primate of England, then he was also the papal legate by virtue of that office.

Therefore, no other legate should be sent to England, ever under any circumstances.

If the Pope wanted to have his voice heard in England, then he already had a vessel. And his name

was Anselm. And so when Anselm and Henry wrote to the Pope, Henry spent quite a bit of time

talking about investiture. And Anselm spent quite a bit of time talking about Anselm.

The Archbishop went so far as to tell the Pope that, quote,

everyone asserted, end quote, that Canterbury was the legate for the kingdom going all the way

back to Roman times. And pro tip here, the moment you start talking in absolutes and declaring

that everyone agrees with you, it's time for your friends to talk you down off that limb

that you're about to hang yourself on. But Anselm apparently didn't have friends. He just had

Edmur. And so he really went for it here. And proceeded to tell the Pope that even when he'd

been forced into exile by Rufus, Pope Urban II, and you remember him, right, Pope Pascal?

Your predecessor who won Jerusalem? Well, he hadn't taken my legation rights from me during that time.

Instead, he respected them. And no legates ever visited England during my exile,

because everyone knew no legate would be appropriate since I am that legate. So why,

in the name of all that is holy, is Guy over here usurping my ancient rights and privileges?

Your holiness. And while this would have been a cringy move regardless of the context,

there is some important context here that makes it so much worse. Because when Anselm sent

this letter, Guy had already left England. In fact, it doesn't seem like the two of them

ever met in person, which is probably a good thing, because I'm guessing that it would have ended

with Anselm screaming, you're not my supervisor! But since Guy was long gone, a reasonable person

would see this as a moot point, and just chalk it up to the papacy trying to do what it could to

keep a hand on the tiller while the primate of England was in exile. And sure, maybe it might

feel a little snubbed, but it was clearly in the past, so there's no reason to start a fight

over it, right? Well, no. Anselm was still mad, and he was going to post through it.

Now of course, in the 12th century, social media traveled on horseback, so the Pope was blissfully

unaware of this **** storm going on in Canterbury for literal months. Instead, the main issue he knew

about regarding England was the brewing conflict between Henry and Robert. And so Pope Pascal II decided

he'd get involved in help Anselm out of it, and so he wrote to the Archbishop to inform him that

he was sending over a couple nunsios, which were essentially papal ambassadors, to help resolve

this political conflict before it got any worse. And one of the nunsios he was sending was actually

from Anselm's home abbey of Beck, which I suspect was a deliberate choice on the part of the Pope.

And that's funny, because it implies that Anselm's volatility was known, and this new Pope,

who had only recently been elected, was already taking time out of his day to try and preemptively

chill Anselm out. However, it was only after the Pope sent that letter that Anselm's angry

screed about Archbishop Guy, you know, with a little side commentary about Henry fighting

investiture, arrived in Rome. And I wish I could have been in the room when that happened.

Especially since it would have become immediately apparent that Pascal's attempt to preemptively

calm Anselm down by dispatching a monk from Beck was far more likely to just piss him off even

more. But there wasn't anything the Pope could do now, the nunsios had been dispatched. So it was

too late to call them back. And when they arrived, Anselm was not pleased. And then they decided

to attend that royal court at Windsor, which obviously upset Anselm even more.

And when they issued charters of their own at that court, like Legates, oh my god, Anselm was

incandescent. He was so furious, in fact, that he issued a charter of his own to holy Trinity

Norwich. And when he did, he changed his signature to, quote, Archbishop of Canjury,

primate of Great Britain and Ireland, and vicar of the supreme pontiff Pascal, end quote.

Now, I've been mad before, but I have never been tidal bumping mad. Though on retrospect,

the nunsios issuing charters was small potatoes compared to the moment when Anselm was called forth

to receive his reward for supporting King Henry in his time of need. Because that meant that they

were there to witness him get a sharp backhand and a royal demand that he either get in line

or get out of the kingdom. And so, when Anselm retreated to Canjury, he probably knew that

knights would be arriving soon thereafter. And that's why, when Henry's messengers arrived at

Canjury, less than a month after that explosive court, the mood was tense for a whole bunch of

reasons. But rather than a bunch of knights ready to bodily throw the Archbishop into the sea,

or a letter saying, get out before I send a bunch of knights to bodily throw you into the sea,

your grace. Instead, the King had written Anselm a message in a rather conciliatory tone,

and he addressed the Archbishop as he might a friend, inviting him to attend his court at Winchester,

where, should Anselm wish it, he could try again to change the King's mind on investiture. And then,

they could also discuss Henry's plan for how to handle this matter if he doesn't change his mind.

And if you were being honest with himself, Anselm really didn't want to have to couch serve again.

And so, in October of 1101, the Archbishop arrived at Winchester, and he met with the King,

and wow, did King Henry ever have a plan for how to resolve this?

It began with him declaring that there was another truce between the Crown and the Archbishop,

and then, under the auspices of that truce, they could both send envoys to the Pope.

These envoys would be far more prestigious than the last ones. They would be led by Gerard,

who was the former Chancellor of both Rufus and the Conqueror, but recently he had been promoted

to the Archbishop of York, which actually meant that he needed to go to Rome to get his

pallium anyway, so this was a bit of a toofer. And actually, the other bishops in the group

also had business with the Pope as well, because no one would ever accuse Henry of being inefficient.

But, in addition to their other tasks, this illustrious delegation would also argue for a

people waiver on investiture and homage. And this time, they would be fully united on this issue,

just like Henry and Anselm were. Because we are united on this, aren't we? Look at me, Anselm,

this time we are united. And then, to entice the Pope to agree, they would inform him that if the

waivers weren't given, then Henry would banish Anselm from England, renounce the kingdom's

fealty to the papacy and completely abolish the regular payments to Rome known as Peter's Pence.

Which all means that King Henry hadn't changed his position at all. Instead, he was going even

harder against the Church's power grab. Because at the end of the day, he figured the Pope needed

him more than he needed the Pope. I mean, Henry's coup was largely complete. There were no serious

challenges to his authority. So what could this Pope really do to him? And you might be thinking

that when Anselm heard this, he pitched an absolute fit. But you would be wrong. Because as we

discussed at the top of the episode, the investiture controversy was a side quest for Anselm,

and it was one that was becoming increasingly difficult for him to hold the line on.

Frankly, the only reason why he was holding firm on the matter at all was because the Pope was.

You see, the fact is that while he was the primate of England, and he was quite happy to write that

on as many documents as he needed to make sure that everyone remembered that, and while

investiture was just a ritual, it was enforced by people decree, which meant that he couldn't wave

it, no matter what he thought of the situation. Only the Pope could do that. But if they got that

waiver, then Anselm could focus on what he actually cared about. So rather than being offended or

angered by Henry's plan to demand concessions and then threaten exile, Anselm was cool with it.

And once this was over, he could resume his role as primate of England under a friendly

king who would no doubt back him on banning people legates from England. Well, legates other than

Anselm, of course. So Henry and Anselm wrote their letters to the Pope, and Archbishop Gerard

and his delegation, along with a couple of Anselms trusted fellas, you know, to keep an eye on the

whole thing and report back. Well, they packed their bags and they headed to Rome. While Henry,

in England, celebrated Christmas at Westminster. Now, naturally, court was held regularly,

and there were all manner of charters and things being issued during this period. But the next

event of import is the birth of Princess Maud. And I want to hit this point again because it still

blows my mind. Even though I've got a whole book on King Henry's itinerary, there's no mention

of this event in it. I don't know where Henry was during the birth, nor where the queen was.

I don't even know if they're in the same city. Instead, I know things like, at roughly the birthday

of Maud, Henry issued a charter restoring Judas to some of his seized properties, and Robert of Mulan

was there to witness it. Because these Normans are real sentimental folks. But while they're

issuing charters and, presumably, at least waving occasionally to poor little Maud, meanwhile,

in Rome, the Pope was meeting with the English delegation. And eventually, he drafted his reply,

which was dated April 15, 1102, about six months after they first set off for Rome.

And it just boggles my mind how much of medieval life consisted of waiting.

Can you imagine getting into a fight of this magnitude, sending a threatening email,

and then waiting for six months to read the response? I don't know about you,

but my mind would be a barely functional mix of anxious worst-case scenarios for that entire time.

But anyway, with their letters in hand, the delegation began its long journey back home.

And while the envoys knew what the Pope thought of Henry's demands, the King was going to have to

wait even longer to get that response. So, as the King and Archbishop Anselm celebrated Easter

and Winchester, they were still wondering how things were going in Rome. And then in early

summer of 1102, roughly June, this is where Henry and Robert of Blem really start going at it.

So, that's going to be the subject of the next episode, but keep that in mind.

Alright, back to Henry and Anselm. So, finally, in August or September of 1102,

probably about nine months after this whole process had begun, the envoys returned to England.

And after such a long wait, everyone was quite eager to hear how it went.

And I kind of like the idea of Archbishop Gerard being all, hey guys,

did I miss anything while I was gone? And Henry saying, yeah, Jerry, you missed an entire

fucking war! What took so long? But, you know, chances are, Henry was far less impatient than I would be,

and he accepted that these things take forever. And so he was probably pretty cordial,

and just pleased to see their return. Especially since Archbishop Gerard had acquired his

pallium, which suggested that things had gone quite well. Also, Bishop Herbert, who was in a bit

of trouble because he had purchased a bishopric from Rufus, which, you know, is not allowed,

you're not supposed to trade these things on the open market. Well, he was given a pass,

and he was allowed to transfer his authority from the bishopric of Thepford to the bishopric

of Norwich, because I guess he had buyer's remorse about Thepford. Now, granted, Bishop Herb

also wanted Burry St. Edmonds, but the Pope did have to draw a line somewhere, so the Bishop was

a little put out about that, but overall, you know, couldn't complain. So yeah, things looked

pretty good, but the most important part of this location was the letters that they were carrying.

And it was letters, plural, one for King Henry, and the other for Archbishop Anselm,

meaning that the Pope had finally written back to Anselm. Now, granted, this letter arrived about a

year too late, and King Henry had already received multiple letters, but Anselm could be the bigger

man here, at least he was getting the respect he was due. And so he and the king opened their letters

and began to read, and uh oh, oh no, oh no no no no no. So I don't think that the Pope

liked being threatened, and I'm guessing he wasn't as impressed by Archbishop Gerard as they hoped

he would be, because this was not good. Not only was the Pope refusing to back down on

investiture or homage, now he was demanding even more. As we discussed earlier in this episode,

as far as Anselm was concerned, investiture was form, and he cared about function. So it only made

sense to wave it in order to maintain the functional power of Canterbury. But Anselm either didn't

realize, or he will fully ignored, the fact that this argument about form was actually an argument

about function. It was about who ruled, and who served. And I guess Pope Pascal the second

got tired of being coy about it, because he just came out and said what this was all about,

and what he demanded from everyone. Quote, the reverend majesty of the Holy Council's

has decreed that the power of secular princes must be altogether excluded from ecclesiastical

elections. Not only was King Henry being told he couldn't carry out the investiture ceremony,

now he was being told he couldn't even elect bishops. The church was going right at function.

Now Anselm and obviously the kings of England had seen the relationship between the church and

the crown as collaborative when it came to the bishoprix. It was a structure of joint rulership

between the clerical and the secular authorities, which was why kings were so heavily involved

in the governance of those bishoprix. However, the Gregorian wing of the church,

which had been ascendant since Hildebrand, had been fighting to change that. And clearly,

Pope Pascal the second felt he had enough authority and power in Europe to not only call King

Henry's bluff, but to come out and directly say what they've been working on for decades.

Ecclesiastical independence. This was not going to sit well with King Henry at all.

Even worse, while the Pope did tell the king that he wasn't backing down on investiture,

he let Anselm fill him in on the bad news about homage and the rest.

Thanks a lot, Your Holiness.

Oh, and speaking of Ecclesiastical independence, Anselm had also been hoping for a bit of that for

himself. A lot of his letters to the Pope had been on that subject, including a few passive

aggressive complaints about how much he had suffered in his efforts to ensure that the sea of

Canterbury had his proper rights and obedience. And on this issue, the Pope threw Anselm a bone,

telling him, quote, to you personally, we grant this additional privilege. That as long as your

worship is preserved by divine mercy for that kingdom, you are to be subject to our judgment alone

and never to that of any legate." Basically, Anselm is getting a pass, not the Archbishop of

Canterbury, just Anselm, and only so long as he is the Archbishop of Canterbury.

Now, on the one hand, this was far more than anything that Land Frank had ever been able to get

out of Rome. So you could see this as a win. However, what Anselm wanted was a clear,

unambiguous statement of the primacy of Canterbury. And what he got was, all right, Anselm,

so long as you've got this job, you'll only answer to me. Which wasn't much since the king had

threatened to turf him out of England if the Pope didn't buckle, and not only did the Pope not

buckle, but now he was demanding even more from this king. So if I was Anselm, I'd be considering

that I've got about 15 minutes of technically only answering to the Pope before I need to start

packing my bags and update my CV. So yeah, these letters were a disaster. And I'm guessing that the

king absolutely began to blow his lid over the investiture thing. Because the bishops from the

delegation jumped in and the assured Henry that the Pope said that if King Henry behaved as a

good Christian, then he could continue with the investiture. In fact, the Pope would be totally fine

with it. But you know, it wasn't written in the letter because if it got out, then other monarchs

might want the same deal. So you know, this was on just a need to know basis. It's just, you know,

we're going to do this all into the table, but you be good and you can do your thing. We won't

punish you at all. Pope's honor and listening to all of this was one of Anselm's fellas, Baldwinn

of Torne. And he'd been sent to keep an eye on all the proceedings. So he'd been there with the

Pope and the bishops and he blew up basically shouting, what the hell? The Pope didn't say any of that.

Why are you lying? There weren't any verbal exceptions. There's no secret deal. He was quite

clear that this was bad. To which the bishops were all need to know Baldwinn. This was bishops stuff.

Why would the Pope be talking to a lowly monk about bishops stuff? If the Pope wants to know about

beer, he'll call you. But for this stuff, it's above your pay grade, bud. To which Baldwinn pointed

out that it obviously wasn't above his pay grade. And the Pope's word was right here on the

parchment. And the three bishops turned to the king and said, look, you really should trust us

a lot more than some, quote, scribbles on sheepskin end quote. To which Baldwinn shouted back,

scribbles on sheepskin? That's the Pope's word. Oh, is the Bible scribbles on sheepskin to you

because you can describe it that way if you really wanted to. So yeah, things were getting wildly

out of hand here. And Ansel was caught right in the middle because these were his boys calling

the bishops liars and shouting about how they had something, something insulted the gospels.

And frankly, their story about a super secret off the record comment that just happened to give

the king everything you wanted was very sus. But on the other hand, he was the primate of England

and he was a bishop. So he didn't want to call his own bishops out for being a bunch of dirty,

bootlicking liars, especially since Anselm who was pushing 70 at this point really didn't want to

be exiled again. I'm guessing his back eight did just the thought of Archbishop Hughes' guest room.

Furthermore, King Henry was not taking no for an answer. He and his magnates quite liked what

the bishops had to say. And so they are insisting that Anselm, quote, do him homage and promise to

consecrate those to whom he had said that he would give bishops bricks, thereby maintaining

unimpaired the customs of the king's predecessors. End quote. Basically, take your own Anselm

and then get to consecrating. And Anselm probably realized that he wouldn't stand a chance if

this king decided to start throwing elbows. And if he said, oh yeah, actually I forgot to tell you,

this wasn't just about investiture. The pope also said that he's banning homage and that you

don't get a select bishops anymore. Well, if you said that, I'm guessing elbows would definitely

be thrown. So even though Anselm knew that the king was asserting the exact opposite of what the

pope had written, and even though he likely believed that the bishops were lying, since it was written

all over his face, because the bishops were apparently repeatedly telling Anselm that he should

believe them. Well, in the face of all of this, Anselm decided to go back to an old playbook,

delay. And he basically told the king, all right, well, since we can't be sure what the pope

intended as the bishops are saying one thing, but the letter here is saying another, why don't we

send a third delegation to Rome, you know, to get a clarification on that second delegation,

which was getting a clarification on our first delegation. Well, yeah, this is not going great,

but why don't we do that? And if his royal highness decides to invest any prelates while that

delegation is en route, well, I won't excommunicate them or you, your highness. However, I won't do any

investing myself until I hear back from the pope because it obviously puts me in a kind of weird

position. Is that cool? And King Henry was like, yeah, man, that's cool. And he immediately began

investing bishops, including a friend of his from his carousing days. You know, those times when

he developed that veritable stable of illegitimate children. Well, his pal Roger had been with him,

and you know, that guy was great. He was a ton of fun. And so the king was like,

Roger, you would be an awesome bishop. I'm going to make you the bishop of Salisbury. And he

wasn't the only Roger that got rewarded. Roger, the largerer, had been doing an excellent job

with the pantry, just top-notch work at storing food, I guess. And so Henry decided that that

deserved a reward. And so he gave him the bishop rick of hariferd. You know, I think I'm starting

to see the pope's point here. If you have any questions, comments or concerns, you can reach me

at the pretty history podcast at gmail.com. Thanks for listening.