Thomas Becket. Father John S. Hogan

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СКАЧАТЬ over the liberties of the Church, but he had been an extraordinary pastor, renowned for his learning and holiness. So, it seems, Bec had a knack of electing singular abbots who later proved effective as bishops. Given that the monks elected him unanimously and, when that election was threatened with nullification, battened down the hatches in order to keep him, it may have been concluded that there must have been something extraordinary about him.

      As soon as he was consecrated archbishop, Theobald traveled to Rome to receive the pallium³ from Pope Innocent II. While there, he participated in the Second Lateran Council, which took place in April 1139, joining almost a thousand prelates called to deal with issues that had emerged following a recent schism, excommunicate King Roger II of Sicily, and draw up measures to enforce ecclesiastical discipline and morals. When the council concluded, Theobald returned to England to take the helm of the archdiocese and face the numerous difficulties, both ecclesiastical and political, emerging in a kingdom languishing in civil war.

      Upon his election, Theobald swore fealty to Stephen and, in doing so, declared where his loyalty lay. He would play a vital role in the Anarchy and its resolution in the years to come. For all his piety, he was not beyond nepotism; as soon as he returned to his archdiocese, he appointed his brother Walter as archdeacon of Canterbury. At this stage in his episcopate, while he could not escape political issues altogether, he was resolved to keep his political participation to a minimum, remaining neutral.⁴ But his rival for Canterbury, Henry of Blois, also known as Henry of Winchester, was a much more political animal, and he was intent on making life difficult for Theobald. When the pope made Henry papal legate, things got more complicated for the archbishop. In the legatine office, Henry had a power that exceeded Theobald’s in various areas of the Church’s life, including the power to call councils, which could be troublesome forums. However, while he was not inclined to dip his toes too often into England’s political waters, Theobald would prove himself a force to be reckoned with in his own realm of Church governance. If Stephen thought he had appointed a weakling to the see of Canterbury, he soon discovered his mistake. Though he had served as abbot for only a year, Theobald slipped quite comfortably into the archiepiscopal shoes.

      Whatever fears the king may have had, he saw that Theobald was a man of honor. In 1141, when Stephen was in captivity and his brother was sitting at the feet of a triumphant Matilda, the archbishop did not switch allegiance and rush to the camp of the victor. He had taken an oath of fealty, and that could not be discarded for political convenience. He made his way to Bristol, where Stephen was being held, and spoke with the king in person regarding what had to be done. Stephen gave his permission for Theobald to go to Matilda’s side; given the circumstances and the archbishop’s position, it was the most prudent move for now.⁵ When Matilda fell again and her brother Robert was captured, Theobald took a leading part in the negotiations that led to the exchange of Stephen for Robert. Bishop Henry of Winchester then switched sides again and called a council to legitimize Stephen as king, perhaps in an attempt to save himself. It was Theobald who crowned Stephen king at Canterbury Cathedral that Christmas of 1141.

      Theobald and Henry of Winchester did not get on, and their dealings with each other were always strained. This had a positive aspect for Canterbury, and for Thomas himself, in that the archbishop had to invest time and resources in gathering a competent and hardworking staff around him to help him deal with a workload that was continually growing, as well as various situations, both ecclesiastical and political, that were intensifying in complexity. Theobald had to fight for his corner of the Church, both in England in the midst of a war of succession, and also in Rome as Bishop Henry unveiled his plans to have Winchester elevated to an archiepiscopal see and a rival to Canterbury. In his more than twenty years of service, Archbishop Theobald would never find rest or even a moment to distract himself from trouble and machinations.

      Bishop Henry of Winchester’s legatine powers came to an end with the death of Pope Innocent II in September 1143. The election of a new pope, Celestine II, gave Theobald an opportunity to solidify his position by seeking the position of legate for himself. Traveling to Rome, he met with Celestine in March 1144, but failed to secure it. Henry would not be successful either. Celestine died a few days after meeting Theobald and was succeeded by Lucius II. Though his reign was short, he managed to appoint a legate to England. It was neither Theobald nor Henry, however, but an Italian: Cardinal Imar, bishop of Tusculum. Lucius did accede to Henry’s request to raise Winchester to an archiepiscopal see and dispatched Imar to oversee it. However, the pope died on February 15, 1145, and with him Henry’s chance to become an archbishop, much to Theobald’s relief. Imar himself moved on, up, and eventually down as he not only supported an antipope, Victor IV, but also consecrated him, earning an excommunication for his trouble.⁶

      The organization of Theobald’s service and household was complex.⁷ Though Canterbury was his principle residence, the archbishop had other castles and estates that he visited at various times of the year. The archbishop’s court, like that of a monarch, was almost nomadic in its constant progress from one residence to another. These residences were situated in the vast estates owned by the see of Canterbury in Kent and in Sussex, Surrey, and Middlesex. Saint Anselm had acquired a property in Lambeth, across the Thames from London, and the archbishop used this when he needed to be near the royal palace at Westminster. Theobald did not use this residence too often, preferring to stay at his manor house at Harrow, just a short ride from London.

      The archbishop’s entourage was considerable. A crossbearer went before him — this was an important ceremonial and liturgical office that proclaimed the authority and dignity of the archbishop. He had a chancellor; two chaplains, usually monks; and a butler who ran the domestic affairs of the household. Dispensers, a chamberlain, and a steward completed the upstairs domestic staff. Below stairs, the household operated as any feudal lord’s service did: cooks governed by a master cook, a baker, ushers, porters, grooms, janitors, numerous kitchen staff, and servants to clean and wash. As a feudal lord and an owner of vast estates that were to yield sufficient income to meet the annual expenses of the palace, chancery, and other offices, the archbishop also employed servants to manage his estates and collect rents from his tenants.

      Theobald’s archiepiscopal court consisted of clergy of various ranks, his clerks, and officials. The archdeacon was the most senior of the archbishop’s household, in charge of the administration of the archdiocese, governing in Theobald’s name with jurisdiction delegated from the archbishop. Below the archdeacon were myriad clerks of various ranks and seniority who carried out the day-to-day running of the archdiocese and household while also fulfilling duties related to matters of the primacy. The church courts also fell under the jurisdiction of the archbishop, and his staff had to manage these also. The archbishop would normally hear the important cases in these courts, but some of the more senior clerks presided over lesser matters and delivered binding judgments. One of the skills Theobald looked for in his servants was diplomacy, coupled with a thorough knowledge of canon and civil law. He expected them to deal not only with their many duties but also with other issues, awkward or otherwise, that would have emerged on a daily basis. As Theobald was called upon to intervene in state affairs, his clerks understood the need for studied diplomacy, and their master expected competency, ability, and a certain creativity.

      The archbishop’s clerks were nominally clerics, but these men were not following a vocation to priesthood. While they were tonsured, they occupied the lower ranks of the clerical hierarchy: lectors, acolytes, and, at most, subdeacons. The lower ranks were not bound to the rule of celibacy, nor did they take religious vows or serve any liturgical function beyond being readers or minor servers at Mass and the Divine Office. Because they were working for bishops and the Church, many men in England at that time were considered clerics, even married men who occupied the lower ranks, and this designation affected their rights and answerability under the law. They were, in fact, subject to canon law, and if accused of a crime, they were to be tried in ecclesiastical rather than civil courts under English law. This had been a bone of contention between the state and the Church for some time.⁸

      As noted, diplomacy was a vital skill among those in the archbishop’s employ. СКАЧАТЬ