Читать книгу Thomas Becket - Father John S. Hogan - Страница 17

Life in the archbishop’s household was hectic. Like many ecclesiastical centers in England at the time, it was a mix of diocesan chancery, monastery, and secular court, all sharing the same buildings and coexisting in relative peace — but with intrigue. Thomas struggled at first in this new environment. There was a hierarchy among the clerks; some were very well educated, and these would have considered Thomas an inferior. But rather than stunt the young man, the situation actually stirred his ambition. He saw how clerks had risen up the ranks, some being appointed archdeacons of various dioceses so they would, in time, easily slip into the episcopacy. Thomas may or may not have had designs on holy orders, but his ambition was growing, and the first step toward advancement was to enter the ranks of the clerics, as was normal for those who served the Church in a professional capacity. He received minor orders soon after he was appointed clerk, and as he entered the clerical state, his status changed. In accordance with the much-disputed custom, he was now subject to ecclesiastical rather than civil jurisdiction in many areas.

Thomas’s whole world changed. No longer a resident in London, he now lived a peregrinate existence, moving with the archiepiscopal court from Canterbury to the various manors Theobald occupied in accordance with his business. Working for the official Church then, as now, was challenging in many ways, including morally; it was not, perhaps, the best place to see the Gospel at work. There were those who sought to serve the Church and the archbishop, but there were others who saw every action, every decision, every development, in terms of moving up and down ladders, making or breaking careers. The game of power occupied many in the archbishop’s household, and in the daily activity of the archiepiscopal court, politics was as much a motivation for them as the Church’s mission. The court teemed with all the emotions of men who were seeking to make something of their lives. In that context, alliances were made and broken, friendships formed, individuals noted and marked. A way of doing things in terms of procedure, law, and custom became a status quo that was carefully adhered to, not only to ensure that things were done right but also to keep peace, to keep certain individuals in check, and to unite the whole body ecclesiastical as one whenever a threat came from outside.

Such was the way of life in any court, but in this one, the hardworking and committed archbishop, a man of faith, made all the difference. He inspired loyalty. Dropped into this clerical soup, Thomas had to hit the ground running and find friends among the staff. One prominent member of the court, however, may not have been initially inclined to a positive relationship with him: Roger de Pont L’Évêque. Roger was a native of Normandy, born around 1115. Upon his entrance into Theobald’s service, it was obvious that his ability matched his ambition, which was far-reaching and intense. Thomas’s early biographer William of Canterbury relates that Thomas formed an alliance with Roger and another clerk, John of Canterbury. The three, William insists, made a pact to protect and help one another advance their interests and careers. Given that it was rare for the three to be absent from the household at the same time, there was always at least one to keep an eye on what was happening and inform the others when they returned.¹ Frank Barlow in his modern biography suggests that Roger was suspicious of the newcomer from the moment Thomas arrived and that he regarded the manner of the young Londoner’s arrival as irregular.² That Theobald quickly developed an affection for Thomas did not help matters, and so whether or not Roger and Thomas were allies, close or otherwise, their relationship soon became bitter and confrontational.³ Perhaps Roger, as an ambitious young man, was indeed wary of Thomas, but judged that for the time being, it was more conducive to his career to form an alliance with this new arrival. As Thomas advanced, however, Roger’s ambition may have overcome whatever affection for Thomas or initial pragmatism he may have had. Later events would lead Roger to despise him even more.

Thomas had few qualifications for his position. He was probably hired because Theobald wanted someone with experience in financial matters, which Thomas had thanks to Osbert, and saw in him a young man who could be trained for greater things. As he would have expected, Thomas started at the bottom as the junior clerk assigned the lowliest of tasks: filing, taking statements, doing odd jobs, being ordered about by his seniors. He watched his steps in the first few weeks, taking careful note of how things were done and how people worked and reacted. He aimed to be helpful and competent; and as he completed his work in an exceptional manner, not only was Theobald vindicated in his decision, but others noticed this young man’s ability. One of those was Theobald’s brother, Walter the Archdeacon. Walter was always happy to have someone help him with his duties, particularly when he had to stand in at the court while Theobald was away on business. For Walter, Thomas gradually became that clerk who was always willing to help; this was a smart move on Thomas’s part.⁴

To bring his education up to the standard required of a clerk, Theobald assigned Thomas to study with a tutor, who would not only teach him the knowledge he needed for his day-to-day work but also help develop his natural skills and fit him for tasks the archbishop already had in mind for this new protégé. The tutor was already teaching Theobald’s nephews, so Thomas was more than likely included in classes that had already been arranged. These lessons were not a leisurely familiarizing of oneself with Church law and practice; rather, as soon as he was appointed to mentor the new clerk, the tutor arrived with an armful of works for Thomas’s attention, prominent among them works on canon law.⁵ One of the important tasks of the primate’s court was dealing with legal matters, and for this Theobald needed capable advisors and clerks who were well versed in the law. As Thomas was seemingly marked out for legal work, Theobald had to ensure that he not only grasped the fundamentals of canon law, but also knew his way around the complexities of the Church’s legal system in order to harmonize it with, and at times challenge, the system of civil laws. Experts on canon law and other matters pertaining to the life of the Church would have been regular visitors to Canterbury, and Theobald may have given Thomas the opportunity to speak with them and thereby supplement his studies. Thomas would doubtless have become acquainted with the reforms of Pope Saint Gregory VII,⁶ since they had recently affected relations between the Church and the secular powers in various realms. As a servant of the Church, the new clerk would need to understand not only the law of these reforms, but also the response with which they had been met.

Thomas was doing well. Theobald was not given to fawning over his servants, but he was impressed with his new clerk. He started planning great things for Thomas, who was finding himself by the archbishop’s side more often as time passed. Meanwhile, Roger de Pont L’Évêque was festering with malice and discontent; it may have been he who dubbed Thomas Baillehache, or “Hatchet Man.” As time progressed, the two were considered rivals, and bitter ones at that. Roger was given to conspiracy, and he began to use his skills to undermine Thomas before he achieved too lofty a role in the archbishop’s service. On two occasions, Roger was able to stir up trouble, making false accusations against Thomas to the archbishop and providing evidence that seemed to confirm the truth of his claims. On both occasions, Theobald was convinced and dismissed his protégé from his service and his presence. Both times, Thomas took refuge with Walter, Theobald’s brother, for whom he had done many favors; and, convinced of the clerk’s innocence and perhaps even of Roger’s malice, Walter interceded with his brother each time and won Theobald around, helping to restore Thomas to his position and to favor. Roger’s triumph was short-lived on both occasions, but his contempt for the “lowborn clerk” never waned.⁷

As he returned to the court after each of his banishments, it may have seemed to his nemeses in the archiepiscopal household that Thomas, the upstart, had a charmed life. By this stage, Thomas was well aware of the dangers and pitfalls that lay around him, and now he was ready for a fight and willing to do what he could to rise above those who tried to bring him down. Thomas was too clever and too ambitious to be caged in by those who wanted to destroy him. He may have felt insecure at first due to his lack of education and his “lowborn” status compared with many of those around him, but he was gifted and competent. The wastrel of the Paris years was gone; now, he was intent on going as far as he could. His ambition would prove to be a great motivator, and while collegial and supportive of his fellow clerks, Thomas relished competition and pushed himself. He kept an eye on his enemies and was very careful in his dealings with Roger.

In the meantime, around 1147, another ambitious and highly skilled clerk came into Theobald’s service: John of Salisbury. This young man arrived with a reference from none other than the highly esteemed and venerated Saint Bernard of Clairvaux.⁸ Thomas might have seen another rival, but his first impressions of John were favorable; this new clerk, while obviously gifted and highly capable, was very different from Roger. Thomas offered the hand of friendship to John, and it was gladly accepted. Not only would the two become fast friends, but their friendship would prove to be one of the most providential relationships in Thomas’s life. John would be a friend, an ally, and a confidant; a sure support in the years of suffering and exile that lay ahead; a champion following Thomas’s death; and one of his biographers. John would become one of the foremost intellectuals of his age and would also know exile, which for a man of his sensitivity would be a very bitter experience. In time, he would be raised to the episcopate and, on his death, leave an important body of work.⁹ Entering Theobald’s service as the archbishop’s secretary, John would hold the post for seven years — years he and Thomas would cherish and often reminisce about later in their lives.

As Thomas progressed in his studies and served his master well, Theobald made the decision to send his clerk abroad to continue his studies in a more formal environment. Though he was often hard on his clerks, Theobald was generous. Recognizing their gifts and abilities, he sought to give them every opportunity to perfect their skills and interests, realizing that these skills would be beneficial to the Church, both local and universal.

Thomas was sent first to Bologna,¹⁰ the great university in the north of Italy. Founded in 1088 and still in existence, it is the oldest continuously functioning university in the world. In Thomas’s day, it was just over fifty years old but already an important center for learning. Having gained a notable reputation for canon law, it was the obvious place to send Thomas. One of its first professors had been Irnerius, a native of Bologna, who founded the school of jurisprudence at the university. Often called lucerna juris, the “lantern of the law,” Irnerius is credited as the founder of the medieval Roman law tradition for his recovery of the Codex of the sixth-century Eastern Roman emperor Justinian I, a revival that would prove revolutionary for European law for centuries to come. Irnerius had died long before Thomas arrived, but Thomas would have studied under men well versed in Roman and canon law, some of the best legal minds in Europe at the time. Among these were the “Four Doctors” of Bologna: Bulgarus, Martinus Gosia, Jacobus de Boragine, and Hugo de Porta Ravennate. These were towering figures who not only brought their brilliant minds to bear on the study of law, but were also involved in the various disputes and controversies of the twelfth century.

Thomas would spend a year at Bologna, and it would be very different from his last foray at university. Now a serious student and a cleric, he would not have put frequenting the local taverns on his list of priorities, if on any of his lists at all. He threw himself into his studies, not merely for the sake of academic interest, but also because the law he was studying and the cases his teachers were considering might well have a direct bearing on his own career and decisions he might have to make in the future. The method employed by the law school of Bologna was that of the “glossators.” This was a detailed study of the laws with copious explanations of the text added in the margins — glossing, after the method of Irnerius. This method led Thomas to a deep familiarity with the law, its sources, and the many nuances it held that would allow wide application.

Bologna was known as the university where future archdeacons were educated; among Thomas’s fellow students would have been men who had just been appointed and ordained archdeacons and those who had reason to consider themselves archdeacons in waiting. Thomas may well have seen Theobald’s plan for his life in this choice of school. But Theobald had another reason: Bologna was at the heart of a legal reform, one that Theobald himself was promoting and would introduce into England in the next few years with his appointment of the renowned legal scholar Roger Vacarius to a position at Oxford teaching Roman law in 1149. That decision would upset the royal masters of England, who liked to see themselves not only as the fount of all honor but also as the fount of all law. Theobald was a revolutionary in his own way, ensuring that the Church in England was in the vanguard of intellectual knowledge, with well-educated clerics to advance and protect the Church. Following Thomas’s studies in Bologna, Theobald arranged for him to be enrolled for a short time in the law school of Auxerre in France, where the courses he attended completed his legal education.

During his time of service, Thomas had already been on missions with Theobald, whose skills were now variously employed in the service of the state as well as of the Church. Certainly by the time he was in Auxerre, Thomas was deemed one of Theobald’s personal assistants. When Pope Eugene III called a council to be held at Reims in France in March 1148, Theobald sent word to Thomas in Auxerre to make his way to Reims to join him there. Pope Eugene had originally called the council to meet at Trier, in what is now Germany; however, an unfavorable reaction from the locals forced the pope to change the venue to Reims. Over the council’s eleven days, the pope intended to bring an end to debates on a number of canons that had been promulgated at the Second Lateran Council in 1139. One of these canons forbade clerical marriage. When the canon was pronounced, it was greeted by the council bishops with much hilarity in the hall — the clergy already knew about the law of celibacy, but it seemed that some offenders against the canon were feigning ignorance and still holding out for a change. Other matters included the condemnation of a heretic, Éon de l’Étoile, a Breton who thought he was the Messiah; a further condemnation of the supporters of the antipope Anacletus II (Anacletus had died in 1138, but his supporters were still making a nuisance of themselves); and other various disputes that needed to be settled.

At this point, Theobald was going through a bad patch with King Stephen. Feeling more comfortable on the throne with Matilda weakened, the king had begun to reverse some of the liberties he had yielded to the Church. To consolidate his position, Stephen had appointed various bishops to support him; including, it was said, William FitzHerbert, his nephew, to whom he granted the see of York, England’s second metropolitan see and often a rival to Canterbury. Though aware that the king might not approve of his leaving England, Theobald was not prepared to miss the council — he needed to consult the pope about important matters. Escaping Stephen’s spies, the archbishop commandeered a smack, a traditional fishing boat, and stole across the English Channel in the midst of a storm to plead his case with the pope. When Theobald arrived at the council, Pope Eugene took one look at the newly arrived archbishop and gleefully commented that the journey seemed more of a swim than a sail, and he was correct. Theobald and his crew looked worn and bedraggled like survivors of a shipwreck and were still suffering the effects of seasickness.¹¹

Thomas met up with his archbishop at Reims and, working with his friend John of Salisbury and Roger de Pont L’Évêque, made ready the archbishop’s case against Stephen.¹² Theobald had already suspended the bishops the king had instructed not to attend the council, among them Theobald’s nemesis, Henry of Winchester, because word of this had reached Stephen, the archbishop knew he was in dangerous waters. As they worked, Thomas found himself in the midst of the great and the good of the Church. For the first time, he set eyes on a pope and could see how a papal court operated, even if out of its natural forum in Rome. He saw some of the Church’s renowned contemporary theologians, and without doubt he would have spoken to Saint Bernard at least once, even if superficially, given that he was now a close friend of one of Bernard’s protégés. His old master from Paris, Robert of Melun, was also there, and perhaps some of his former student acquaintances. The council opened up the world of the Church to Thomas, and as clerk and close assistant of the archbishop of Canterbury, who was there on high-ranking business, he was at the center of it all.

Theobald argued his case persuasively and won the pope to his side. William FitzHerbert was formally deprived of the archbishopric of York on the grounds that the king had rigged the election, and his replacement, the Cistercian abbot of Fountains Abbey, Henry Murdac, was confirmed. William’s opponents also maintained that his personal life was far from ideal. Even Saint Bernard claimed to be aware of his unchaste lifestyle and ambition; in a letter to Pope Innocent II, Eugene’s predecessor, he had described William as being “rotten from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head.”¹³ While the same could be said of many a cleric then and now, the accusation proved useful for Theobald’s case, even if it was untrue. Saint Bernard of Clairvaux had gotten many things right in his life, but his opinion of William FitzHerbert was as far off the mark as could be. The man was, in fact, a saint, and the Church would confirm it by canonizing him in 1227. William’s chief opponents in York were Cistercians who were aggrieved at not being included in the episcopal election that saw William elevated and were displeased that their man was passed over for the archbishopric. They may have filled Bernard with lies, which led to his rash judgment of a man whose holiness was similar to his own. Saints make mistakes, too, and they can be misled by those who are not themselves saints.¹⁴

For Pope Eugene, confirming these decisions was not enough; he had to deal with Stephen. He proposed to excommunicate the king of England and ordered preparations to be made for the ceremony. To everyone’s astonishment, Theobald knelt before the pope and begged him not to excommunicate Stephen.¹⁵ Eugene was dumbstruck. He interpreted Theobald’s gesture as Christian charity and, in acknowledgment of the plea of mercy, reversed his decision. However, Theobald’s gesture was mostly political. He knew Stephen all too well — defying a pope was not beyond the realm of possibility for him. Stephen was unpopular with many, but an excommunication imposed without the king having a chance to defend himself might win many to his side and make the civil war, which was already wreaking havoc in the kingdom, much worse.

The council ended on April 1, but the pope and others remained to deal with what for Saint Bernard of Clairvaux was the main business of the council: the case of Gilbert de la Porrée. Theobald may have remained for that and witnessed Eugene’s compromise on the issue. He returned to Canterbury, again traveling discreetly to avoid the king’s spies, to receive a hero’s welcome as the people heard of his magnanimity in asking the pope not to excommunicate the king. Stephen was not so impressed. As soon as he heard Theobald was back, he sent one of his stalwarts to demand the archbishop’s submission to the crown. Theobald refused and not long after was deprived of his property, taken into custody, delivered to a ship bound for Flanders, and unceremoniously told to get out and never come back to England.¹⁶ The archbishop took refuge at the Benedictine Abbey of Saint Bertin at Saint-Omer and began his efforts to get back to England. Thomas may have made his way back to Auxerre to finish his studies, or he may have returned from the council with Theobald and gone into exile with him. Later in his life, Thomas would describe these events in great detail to a cardinal in the Roman curia,¹⁷ and the detail is so vivid that he may well have been with his archbishop and experienced them personally.

Life was not too bad for Theobald at Saint Bertin’s. His friends were able to visit him, bringing provisions and news of what was happening in England. It was obvious that Stephen had forced the archbishop into exile even in the face of Theobald’s great act of charity toward the king in preventing his excommunication. In a sense, the exile was beneficial to Theobald’s cause, even if it was irksome. Various negotiations took place, but when these failed and news of Theobald’s exile finally reached the pope, he was furious. He issued a papal edict demanding that Stephen recall the archbishop; if Stephen refused to heed it, England would be placed under interdict.¹⁸ If Stephen persisted in his obstinacy, then he would be excommunicated, and with that, his subjects’ loyalty to him would be absolved.

Seemingly unaware of the advantage it may have given Matilda’s side, weak as it was at that time, Stephen disregarded the edict and continued to defy both pope and archbishop. In response, Eugene opted for the interdict, but directed Theobald to impose it in order to make a point. Though he imposed it in obedience to the pope, Theobald was doubtful as to its effectiveness, and he was proved correct — the interdict had no effect, because many feared it would resurrect the civil war. Indeed, the ever-independent Londoners lodged an appeal with Rome to have the interdict lifted. The clergy of Canterbury, however, obeyed, though some in the monasteries held out. Watching from Saint Bertin’s, Theobald realized by the spring of 1149 that he would have to take drastic action to resolve the issue. Despite the risks to his own safety, he had to return to England. Adopting a disguise, he hired a boat at nearby Gravelines in Flanders, sailed to Gosford in Sussex, and then rode to Framlingham to the castle of Hugh Bigod, a onetime supporter of Stephen who had since defected to Matilda’s cause.¹⁹ There, safe behind the walls of the impenetrable fortress, Theobald very publicly resumed the work of the archiepiscopal court, once more asserting his authority over the Church in England. When Stephen heard of Theobald’s return, he thought better of his position and realized how far he had gone. Now that Theobald was in the fortress of a former supporter who was now an enemy, Stephen suddenly realized that Theobald could well become a powerful proponent of the empress’s cause, and that could well mean the end of his reign. Stephen reached out to the archbishop and settled the dispute; Theobald’s lands were restored, together with compensation for lost earnings and damage to the property.

Back in Canterbury, Theobald may have pondered the events of the last year. He had won and brought a king to heel for his transgressions against the Church and her rights; his predecessors would have been pleased, and perhaps he had set a precedent for his successors. But more needed to be done. Stephen’s position was precarious, and so, too, England’s. Matilda had withdrawn, but the issue of the throne was not resolved; though there was peace for now, it was uneasy and fragile. Theobald knew that the most awkward task of all lay ahead. For now, life at the archbishop’s court had returned to normal, or at least as normal as it could be, given the political climate, but it would not remain so for long.

As for the clerk, when Thomas returned to Canterbury, Theobald made a surprise announcement: Thomas was to be his spokesman, and he was to be sent on various missions on the archbishop’s behalf. It was obvious that Thomas possessed great skills of diplomacy and tact, and recent events had honed those skills further. Theobald could be rough and dogmatic in his directives, but Thomas was a clerk who was able to translate his master’s intentions in a subtler manner. A good communicator who could now carefully control his stammer, he could spin a persuasive argument. It was another good decision on Theobald’s part; Thomas would excel as his spokesman. Theobald may also have mused that his young protégé might prove useful to the Church in England.

Now Thomas would be thrust in earnest into the heart of English political life and the maelstrom that was tearing the country apart — the Anarchy had woken up and was breathing fire again. Closer to home, Walter, Theobald’s brother, was elevated to the see of Rochester, no doubt due to his brother’s influence, and was consecrated bishop on March 14, 1148. The archdeaconry of Canterbury was now vacant, and Theobald did not wait long to appoint to the office his most able and senior clerk: Roger de Pont L’Évêque. It was a decision Thomas’s enemy greeted with glee, and Thomas with caution.