3
The kingdom of Aragon initiated a relationship with Rome in the mid-eleventh century. The kingdom would continue to seek Rome’s aid—albeit intermittently—throughout the twelfth century. However, when the language of investiture become insupportable the kings of Aragon could no longer say that they ‘received the kingdom from the pope’s hand’, as eleventh-century papal privileges had stated. Instead, by the middle of the twelfth century, the kings of Aragon were ‘under ours [the pope’s] and St Peter’s protection’—sub beati Petri et nostra protectione—a formula used to describe monasteries and abbeys taken into papal protection. Thus, as Johannes Fried has argued, Aragon was a papal protectorate (paying a census, but not the property of Rome) in the twelfth century.1 Portugal entered the protection of St Peter at this time as well. The first part of this chapter will trace how Aragon and Portugal adopted the language of papal protection in the twelfth century, and how the Aragonese kings were granted certain privileges exempting them from episcopal sanctions. The Aragonese fear of their own bishops and archbishops contrasts with the aims of the Siculo-Norman rulers, who sought to limit papal oversight of their own church, but apparently thought that they could handle their own bishops themselves.
The second half of this chapter looks at how the protection of St Peter was used during the succession crises in Aragon between 1134 and 1162. In the first half of the twelfth century, Aragon underwent major changes. In 1134, King Alfonso I ‘the battler’ died without heirs. Alfonso had left the kingdom, in his testament, equally to the military order of the Knights Templar, to the Hospitallers of St John and to the Canons of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. Ignoring this arrangement, the Aragonese magnates made Alfonso’s brother Ramiro, a monk, king. Ramiro hastily married and, upon the birth of a daughter, she was betrothed to Raymond-Berengar IV, count of Barcelona. In 1137, Ramiro handed the government of Aragon to Raymond-Berengar and retired back to his monastery. In this way, Catalonia and Aragon were united; henceforth kings of Aragon would also be counts of Barcelona. During this succession crisis the kingdom of Navarre broke away from Aragon. Where was the papacy during all this? The events of 1134–62 are a case study in how papal authority could be used by petitioners who had built a special relationship with Rome although, at this time, the papal–Aragonese relationship had not yet been codified or typologized.
Becoming Protected
The evidence suggests that, by the mid-twelfth century, the papal relationship with the Aragonese monarchy was not unlike Rome’s relationships to monasteries under papal protectio. Normative evidence for papal–Aragonese relations—letters which described the nature of the relationship—is slim for the first half of the twelfth century. Perhaps this was because King Alfonso I (1104–34) does not seem to have been particularly interested in preserving the alliance built by his father, Sancho I, and brother, Peter I. Raymond-Berengar IV, after he acceded to Aragon, acquired useful privileges from Popes Eugenius III, Anastasius IV, and Adrian IV, but it is from after Raymond-Berengar’s death when we are able to find evidence suggesting that Aragon was seen as under papal protection, in the same manner as a monastery or religious house. When Raymond-Berengar died in 1162 he was succeeded (as he had instructed) by his eldest son (Raymond) who took the name Alfonso II. Alfonso was only five when he acceded to the throne.2 Soon after Alfonso’s accession, his councillors petitioned Pope Alexander III to take the new king under his protection. This, in 1163, Alexander did, receiving Alfonso ‘and all the kingdom [of Aragon] under ours and St Peter’s protection’ (sub eiusdem beati Petri et nostra protectione suscipimus).3 When Alfonso II died in 1196, the papacy was again petitioned to take his heir, Peter II, and widow under papal protection. Pope Celestine III received ‘your person and the person of […] Sancha, your mother, with the kingdom […] under ours and St Peter’s protection’ (sub beati Petri et nostra protectione suscipimus).4 This consistent terminology—‘receiving’ (suscipio) the king ‘under ours and St Peter’s protection’ (sub beati Petri et nostra protectione)—can also be found in the privileges given to monasteries taken under papal protection in the second half of the twelfth century.
In the eleventh and early twelfth centuries the papacy had taken a number of Aragonese and Catalan monasteries under its protection. Such protection privileges described papal protection in quite different ways. In 1063, one monastery was received ‘into the tutelage and property of St Peter’ (in tutelam Sancti Petri et proprietatem).5 In 1139, we find a privilege taking the royal foundation of Montearagon ‘in the protection of the Apostolic See’ (in apostolice sedis protectione).6 Three royal monasteries taken into papal protection in October 1071 were received ‘into the tutelage and singular patronage of the Holy Roman Church’ (in tutelam et singulare patrocinium sanctae Romanae Ecclesiae); ‘into the tutelage and defence of the Apostolic Church’ (in tutelam et defensionem apostolice eclesie [sic]); and ‘into the personal right and tutelage of the Holy Roman Church’ (in proprium ius et tutelam sanctae romanae ecclesiae).7 Even privileges issued at the same time varied noticeably. The only consistency was in reissues of privileges to the same church, which indicates that the institution itself suggested, in its petition, the wording used in the privilege.
Privileges to Catalonia and Aragon before c.1130–50 varied considerably in the way they described papal protection for religious institutions.8 ‘Defence’ (defensio), ‘protection’ (protectio), or ‘tutelage’ (tutela) could all be used. Such ‘defence’ or ‘protection’ might be provided by the Roman Church, St Peter, the Apostolic See, or just ‘us’. The verb was usually ‘received’ (suscipio or recipio). From the 1140s onwards, however, we find more consistency in the precise phrasing used in this part of the privilege. For the rest of the century, most protection privileges for institutions in Aragon and Catalonia described the monastery as being ‘received’ (suscipimus) ‘under ours and St Peter’s protection’ (sub beati Petri et nostra protectione).9 Henceforth this would be consistent, and it was exactly the same formula we found in the letters of 1163 and 1196 taking Alfonso II and Peter II under papal protection.
The kingdom of Aragon must have come under the rubric of protection in the second half of the twelfth century. Protection privileges for monasteries in eastern Spain, and letters of protection for the Aragonese kings, used precisely the same phrasing. Such phrasing appears in the documentary record at the same time—mid-century for both monasteries and the monarchy. Had the papal–Aragonese relationship been significantly different from ecclesiastical protection then there would be no reason for the terminology to be the same, and there would be no reason for a change in the formulae of monastic protection to happen at the same time as a reform in the formulae of royal protection.
Aragon was not the only Iberian kingdom to be placed under papal protection from the mid twelfth century. In 1143, Afonso Henriques, self-proclaimed king of Portugal, told the pope that he had constituted an annual census of four ounces of gold to Rome. In return, Afonso hoped to receive ‘the solace and defence of the Apostolic See’, and announced that he would recognize the lordship of no secular or ecclesiastical lord in his realm other than the pope. It is generally assumed, probably correctly, that Afonso wished the pope to recognize his kingship and independence.10 Pope Lucius II did not recognize Afonso’s kingship, however, calling him only dux. Lucius did, however, accept the annual census, and that Portugal had been ‘committed to the patronage (patrocinium) of St Peter’. The phraseology from these letters of 1143–4 was similar to the phraseology in the protection privileges for monasteries from the eleventh and early twelfth centuries which we saw above: defence, protection, patronage, and tutelage were interchangeable. Such protection could be provided by the pope, the Roman Church, St Peter, or the Apostolic See. There was not yet consistency of wording for protection grants, although consistency in protection privileges for Catalan-Aragonese monasteries did start to appear from c.1130–50.
In practice, it looks like Afonso Henriques was not that bothered by the pope’s refusal to recognize his kingship. Alfonso VII of Castile-León called Afonso rex, and Alfonso VII was a far more dominant figure on the Iberian peninsula than the pope.11 Unfortunately, when Alfonso died in 1157, Castilian hegemony fell apart. Afonso Henriques might—at this stage—have been considering approaching the pope again to ask for confirmation of his royal title. If so, he waited too long. In 1159, there was a papal schism and two rival popes were elected. Papal legitimation was not helpful during a schism, since any potential opponent of the petitioner had a ready-made justification to ignore a grant they did not like: such grants had come from the ‘wrong’ pope, and hence the petitioner was a schismatic whose claim was damned by association with a pseudo-pontiff. During the entire 1159–78 schism, therefore, Afonso held off from asking the pope to recognize his title. Afonso quickly recognized Alexander III as the rightful pope, but he did not tie the legitimacy of his entire kingdom to a pope who did not have universal recognition. Afonso Henriques learnt from Roger II of Sicily’s mistake.
When the schism was resolved in favour of Alexander III, Afonso tried again. In 1179 negotiations led to Alexander’s chancery issuing a solemn privilege, Manifestis probatum (modelled on Innocent II’s grant of kingship to Roger II of Sicily) which conceded the royal title to Afonso and took Portugal under papal protection. The same consistency of language we saw for Aragon from 1163 was now visible in Manifestis probatum: eam [the king’s person] sub beati Petri et nostra protectione suscipimus.12 Precisely the same sentence—‘we receive [your person] under ours and St Peter’s protection’—was used for protected monasteries, for Aragon and for Portugal from the mid-twelfth century. Their relationships were all of a type. Again, we can say that had the papal–Aragonese or papal–Portuguese relationships not been protective, then they would not have used the same terminology as monastic protection privileges; and the terminology for all three would not have become more consistent at the same time.
Becoming Exempt?
From 1095 to 1213, the kings of Aragon received a very concrete advantage from their relationship with Rome: the privilege of ignoring excommunications promulgated upon the king or queen’s person by anyone except the pope or a legate with a special mandate; and of continuing to celebrate the Divine Office—the daily round of prayers beginning with Matins—even in places subject to ecclesiastical interdict.
In 1095 Urban II, responding to a petition from King Peter I, granted to Peter (and his successors ‘who remain in fidelity to blessed Peter’) that no bishop, archbishop, or papal legate without a specific order from the pope could pass sentences of excommunication or interdict against the king or his wife. The privilege began with a reference to Romans 1.14 and the papal duty of service:
Although we are debtors to all the sons of Holy Church by the authority and benevolence of the Apostolic See, yet it behoves us to be more eager to hark to those persons who adhere more devotedly and familiarly to the Roman Church. Therefore, because you are following efficaciously the faith and devotion towards the Roman Church of your father Sancho, to whose kingdom you have succeeded temporally, we should attend to your petition with the same beneficence that we showed to your father’s request.13
The papal ideology of government: the pope is a debtor to all but is especially in debt to some people—such as Peter and Sancho—and so he should be especially attentive to their petitions. Relationships with the papacy were attractive to kings because they were able to get their petitions approved and instrumentalize papal authority. Peter did this very productively with a privilege essentially exempting him from episcopal sanctions.
Pope Adrian IV confirmed the same rights to Raymond-Berengar IV after he took control of Aragon. The date for this confirmation is uncertain; Fried thought December 1157 but it was more likely to have been around 1158, when Adrian issued another letter (discussed below in the context of Alfonso I’s will) accepting Raymond-Berengar’s succession to Aragon.14 Adrian’s grant to Raymond-Berengar was more explicit on the privilege of ignoring interdict. Peter’s 1095 privilege had simply said that he could ignore sententia interdictionis—which presumably meant that his chaplain could celebrate both Mass and the Divine Office. Raymond-Berengar’s confirmation, however, said that Raymond-Berengar’s chaplain was allowed to celebrate the Divine Offices (divina officia) in places under sentence of interdict provided the doors were closed and anyone excommunicated had been thrown out (clausis ianuis et exclusis excommunicationis).15
In c.1171–2, King Alfonso II got confirmation of his chaplain’s capability to celebrate the Divine Offices in places under interdict, and in 1213 King Peter II got a word-for-word confirmation of Peter I’s original privilege.16 These privileges were important practically for the kings and rulers of Aragon. They also suggest a connection between the kingdom and monasteries which were exempted from episcopal jurisdiction. Raymond-Berengar’s confirmation read: ‘if you should come to any place, although that place be bound by sentence of interdict, it is allowed to your chaplain to celebrate the Divine Offices for you and your household with doors closed and excommunicants and interdicts excluded.’ One of the rights of exemption extended to certain monastic institutions was: ‘when there is a general interdict on the land, it is allowed to you to celebrate the Divine Offices quietly, with doors closed, excommunicants and interdicts excluded and no bells rung.’17 The phraseology was very similar. Likewise the privilege of ignoring excommunication by anyone except the pope or a specially mandated legate was analogous to the right of certain exempt monasteries to ignore excommunications and interdicts passed on them by their bishop.18 There were parallels between monasteries which were exempt from episcopal jurisdiction, and the Aragonese monarchs.
Practically, these privileges gave the Aragonese rulers protection from the archbishops who claimed metropolitan and primatial status over the Aragonese Church—Narbonne and Toledo. The Aragonese bishops had fallen between the jurisdictional cracks of the universal Church. During the eleventh and early twelfth centuries, the archbishops of Narbonne in southern France claimed metropolitan status over the Aragonese and Catalan bishops. In 1154 the bishops of Aragon-Catalonia were made subject to the archbishop of Tarragona, which was in Catalonia.19 But even this did not end the conflicts of jurisdiction since, from 1088 right through the thirteenth century and later, the Castilian archbishops of Toledo claimed—with occasional success—the primacy of all Spain.20 In the eleventh and twelfth centuries, therefore, there was the possibility that archbishops in other kingdoms or lordships could exercise ecclesiastical jurisdiction over Aragon.
Alongside fear of Narbonne and Toledo, the Aragonese kings might have been concerned by their own bishops. Graham Loud counted 144 bishops in the twelfth-century Siculo-Norman regno.21 In Aragon in 1100 there were two: Roda-Barbastro and Jaca-Huesca. Those numbers did increase—Tarazona and Zaragoza; the Catalan dioceses after unification—but remained vastly lower than Sicily and southern Italy. The result was that most of the Sicilian and southern Italian dioceses were small and not particularly wealthy; in many cases so small that the Norman kings indicated limited interest in who was elected bishop.22 The Aragonese bishops—simply because there were so few—had a higher status, a status which potentially put them in a stronger position vis-à-vis the king of Aragon. In the 1080s, King Sancho had been in a bitter struggle with Bishop Garcia of Jaca, his own brother.23 The Aragonese royal privilege to ignore excommunication and interdict might well have been aimed at the Aragonese bishops as much as the archbishops of Narbonne or Toledo.
This confirms the importance of relationships with the papacy in the twelfth century. It also offers an indication of the different priorities of the rulers of Sicily and Aragon: the Sicilian monarchs feared papal interference in their relationships with ‘their’ bishops. The treaties between the papacy and the Norman rulers gave the Normans considerable power over ‘their’ church. Such control varied, of course; the powers the Sicilian king had in the Treaty of Benevento (1156) were more considerable than the powers the king had in the Treaty of Gravina (1192). During the twelfth century, external ecclesiastical observers made a habit of complaining that the Sicilian kings, ‘after the manner of tyrants’, exercised too much control over ecclesiastical appointments.24 Foreign rulers, however, were perhaps less negative, seeing the Sicilian king’s unique privileges as something to be envied.
In 1098, Urban II had granted to Roger I, count of Sicily (brother of Robert Guiscard and father of Roger II) that the papacy would appoint no legate to Sicily without his permission. Any legatine business would instead be sent to Roger himself and, if the papacy called a general council, it would be up to Roger to decide how many bishops he sent.25 Pope Paschal II implicitly confirmed this grant to Roger II in 1117.26 The Treaty of Benevento in 1156 confirmed that insular Sicily was exempt from legations sent by the pope. Churchmen there could not appeal to Rome, furthermore, without the king’s approval.27 The Treaty of Gravina redressed this, and legations could be sent to Sicily every five years. Appeals to Rome were also allowed from the ‘entire kingdom’ (implicitly including insular Sicily).28
These rights to keep the pope at arm’s length were considerable and of importance to rulers in the twelfth century. Hartvic’s Vita of King Stephen I of Hungary, probably written in the early twelfth century, was mentioned in chapter one. Hartvic claimed that, in addition to sending Stephen a crown, Pope Sylvester II had granted to the king’s discretion ‘the government of the Churches of God together with the people, according to both laws’.29 A century later, Pope Innocent III ordered this specific section to be expunged from Hartvic’s Vita: such a grant (certainly false anyway) was unacceptable. No king should be able to dispose freely of churches.30 József Deér advanced the view that Hartvic’s claim was directly inspired by the powers enjoyed by the Sicilian dukes. Diplomatic missions from Hungary to southern Italy had brought back word of the powers Count Roger I had over his Church.31 Deér also studied the attempts of the twelfth-century English kings to limit the power of papal legations.32 Whether there was any direct influence between Sicily, England and Hungary is irrelevant to the argument here; the point is that English and Hungarian rulers strove to achieve similar rights to those granted to the Norman rulers in Sicily. The twelfth-century relationship between the Normans and the papacy was not all about legitimacy. It was also a means for secular rulers to exercise greater control over their own churches, through the exclusion of Rome.
The Aragonese monarchs were not so bothered about papal interference—their exemption from excommunication still allowed the pope or his legate to pass sentence against them. The Aragonese kings were worried about their relationships with either their own bishops or neighbouring bishops. Hence the kings of Aragon were freed from mere episcopal excommunication. There were probably many contributors to the difference in priorities between Sicily and Aragon, but the most obvious is political. The ecclesiastical provinces—the archbishops—of southern Italy and Sicily were directly under the pope himself. Thus, if the Norman rulers wanted to limit outside interference in ‘their’ church, they had to limit the jurisdiction of the pope; they wanted (in this particular respect) Papstferne, distance from the papacy. Unlike the Sicilian monarchs, who sought to limit papal interference, it was the Iberian archbishops and bishops who were giving the kings of Aragon sleepless nights. The semi-exemption they received from the pope—which confirmed the pope’s authority as the only person who could excommunicate the king—was a fine soporific. Thus, if the Sicilian rulers came to be—an exaggeration—‘legates in their own kingdom’, the Aragonese king was Rex-exemptus, an ‘exempt-king’.
Succession and Testaments in Aragon: Alfonso I, Ramiro II, Raymond-Berengar IV, and Alfonso II
The political struggles in Aragon from 1131 until the end of the century allow us to analyse the role which the papacy was expected to play. The papacy was not required to approve the royal succession and the pope was not required to confirm the king’s testament or defend kings if they acceded while still children. The pope, however, could be asked to do any of these things if someone on the ground in Aragon petitioned the pope. This is the fundamental dynamic of papal–royal relationships: activity was initiated by petitioners, not the pope, and the pope did not claim fundamental rights but responded to requests.
Following King Peter I’s death in 1104 he was succeeded by his brother Alfonso I. In 1131—three years before he died—Alfonso, childless, left his kingdom equally to the Knights Templar, the Hospitallers, and the Canons of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. The will made no reference to any papal rights in determining the succession—Alfonso certainly did not claim that the new ruler of Aragon should ‘receive that kingdom from the hand of the pope’.
The debate over why Alfonso went for this strange division is of relevance to us.33 Elena Lourie—in perhaps the most elaborate theory—argued that the papacy’s overlordship of Aragon (she described Aragon as a ‘fief of St Peter’) was fundamental to Alfonso’s testament. In this account, Alfonso feared that, upon his death, his stepson Alfonso VII of Castile-León, ‘Emperor of all Spain’, would take the opportunity to seize Aragon. The purpose of the testament was to enlist papal support against Alfonso VII: if Alfonso of Aragon left his kingdom to the Templars, Hospitallers, and Canons of the Holy Sepulchre then surely the papacy would help them retain the kingdom? But Alfonso of Aragon was being more devious still. He hoped, according to Lourie, that while the three religious orders, backed by the papacy, were fighting it out with Alfonso VII, Ramiro (Alfonso I’s brother) would be able to sneak in and take possession of the kingdom. Ramiro was bishop-elect of Roda, as well as a Benedictine monk, and so simply naming him as heir was impossible. Thus Ramiro could slip over the finish line while the other parties bickered.34
To say that Lourie’s argument met with doubts is charitable.35 However, Lourie did outline two common assumptions about papal–Aragonese relations at this time: that Aragon was a ‘fief of St Peter’ and that this meant that Rome could claim the right to act as adjudicator in a disputed succession.36 Neither of these is supportable. Aragon was not a fief. The pope could be—and was—appealed to by various sides, as we shall see, but the pope did not have an automatic ‘right’ to do anything in Aragon. That was not the way papal government worked. The pope could be petitioned, however.
When Alfonso I died in 1134, Ramiro was indeed removed from his monastery and made king by the Aragonese magnates. The Navarrese (Sancho I, Peter I, and Alfonso I had all been kings of Navarre as well as Aragon) took this opportunity to break away and re-establish their own king (Garcia ‘the restorer’). Ramiro was hastily married to the daughter of the duke of Aquitaine and a daughter, Petronilla, was born. Petronilla—though a baby—was betrothed to Raymond-Berengar IV, Count of Barcelona. Ramiro resigned the governance of Aragon to Raymond-Berengar in 1137 and, until his death in 1162, Raymond-Berengar ruled both Catalonia and Aragon with the powers—though not the title—of king.37
Of course, to be really secure in Aragon, Raymond-Berengar and Ramiro had to come to a settlement with the Templars, Hospitallers and the Canons of the Holy Sepulchre. Raymond-Berengar reached an agreement with the Hospitallers and the Canons of the Holy Sepulchre in 1140 and the Templars in (probably) 1143. Prior to that, however, there is evidence that the Templars sought to use papal authority to buttress what they saw as their inheritance. In c.1135–6, Pope Innocent II sent a letter to Alfonso VII of Castile-León and—more generally—to all the rulers of Spain. The letter rehearsed the narrative above—Alfonso I left one-third of Aragon to the Templars—and then instructed the Spanish princes to offer counsel and aid to the Templars so that they could retain what Alfonso had given them.38 The other two-thirds of Aragon—conferred on the Hospitallers and the Holy Sepulchre—were not mentioned, and from this we can assume that the letter was petitioned for by the Templars. The papacy’s intervention and support was in response to a petition, not off the pope’s own bat.
Interestingly, this succession dispute may be connected to one of the most famous papal documents of the twelfth century. In 1139 Innocent issued Omne datum optimum—one of three privileges which outlined the rights of the Templars and contributed to their religious and financial clout throughout Europe. The privilege included the, admittedly quite common, stipulation that:
all possessions and goods, which it [the Order of Templars] is known to hold legitimately at present and which may be obtained in the future by grant of bishops, by generosity of kings or princes […] will be under the protection and tutelage of the Holy See for all time to come.39
In 1139 those possessions and goods included—thanks to King Alfonso I’s generosity—one-third of Aragon. If the Templars were trying to use papal authority against Raymond-Berengar then Omne datum optimum gave them another potential weapon.
Innocent II’s chancery might have ensured that recognition of Ramiro and Raymond-Berengar was as limited as possible. When the pope issued privileges for religious institutions they normally included an enumeratio bonorum: a list of properties. This list would have been part of the petition and so composed by the petitioner—the nuncio of the bishop or abbot. Such lists ended with some sort of sentence intended to cover anything not mentioned specifically: ‘all other things given by generosity of kings or princes’. A privilege of Innocent II for the diocese of Huesca in 1139 suggests that Aragonese ecclesiastics were concerned to find a phrasing acceptable to those at home who acknowledged the legitimacy of Raymond-Berengar, but also that they were not certain that the papacy would accept a bald statement that he was ruler of Aragon. Huesca’s list of properties and rights ended ‘and all other [things] conferred by the kings of your time or by the count of Barcelona’.40 Obviously the count (singular) in mind was Raymond-Berengar IV, who was here implicitly assimilated into the line of Aragonese kings. The bishop of Huesca wanted to include any grants made by Raymond-Berengar, but carefully did not say that Raymond-Berengar was princeps (Raymond-Berengar’s formal title) of Aragon.
Between 1140 and 1143, Raymond-Berengar came to agreements with the Templars, Hospitallers, and the Canons of the Holy Sepulchre. Agreement was reached with the Hospitallers and the Holy Sepulchre in 1140 and confirmed in 1141. Both orders resigned their claims to two-thirds of Aragon.41 It is normally assumed that agreement was reached with the Templars in 1143 when Raymond-Berengar granted to the order numerous fortresses, an annual income and further wealth from lands to be captured from the Islamic powers.42 Presumably the order resigned their claim at the same time.43 At any rate, in order for the grant from Raymond-Berengar to be of any value, the Templars had to recognize his lordship over Aragon.
But what of the papacy? It seems fairly clear that none of the three orders nor Raymond-Berengar thought it necessary to get the pope’s approval for any of this. Scholars of Aragon have tended to think that Raymond-Berengar, even once he had bought off the three orders, sought papal approval for his succession and was rebuffed, until Pope Adrian IV issued a letter in 1158 confirming his rule over Aragon. Leaving aside for now the question of whether Raymond-Berengar actually sought papal approval—we will return to this—Eugenius III had actually implicitly recognized Raymond-Berengar’s succession in March 1150. The pope, at the request of Everard des Barres, Master of the Templars, issued a privilege confirming Raymond-Berengar’s 1143 grant to the Templars.44 Either Eugenius knew precisely why Raymond-Berengar had made such a grant—to secure the Templars’ renunciation of their rights—and he approved it, hence he approved Raymond-Berengar’s succession; or Eugenius knew nothing and had no interest in the Aragonese succession and was simply happy to confirm a grant made by the person claiming to rule Aragon. Either way, the papacy had accepted Raymond-Berengar’s succession.
In 1158 Adrian IV explicitly confirmed that the three orders had renounced their rights in favour of Raymond-Berengar and that he was the rightful ruler of Aragon. Again, the document began by explaining the papal duty of service:
Even if, by the office of the apostle enjoined on us by God, we are debtors in their justice to all the faithful of God, it behoves us especially to conserve in their rights—and approve their just petitions—those who, famous by power and nobility, are faithful to the Holy Roman Church and fervent in its service and devotion.45
Since Raymond-Berengar was one such, and responding to his petition, Adrian confirmed that Aragon belonged to him and his heirs, and that the three orders had ceded their claims to him.
Why do we find that the Templars got confirmation of Raymond-Berengar’s grant to them in 1150—implicitly suggesting papal confirmation of Raymond-Berengar’s succession—but Raymond-Berengar himself only petitioned for papal confirmation for his rule in 1158? Presumably because during the 1134–43 succession dispute the only group to appeal to the pope for support were the Templars; Raymond-Berengar, the Hospitallers, and the Holy Sepulchre had all ignored the papacy. Perhaps they did not think the pope had any especial reason to be consulted. The Templars, however, saw the advantage of instrumentalizing papal authority, and did so again in 1150 when they got Eugenius to confirm Raymond-Berengar’s grant.
Raymond-Berengar did not seek papal confirmation of his rule in 1150—though he could have done since Eugenius was clearly prepared to accept his accession—but he did in 1158. The Iberian political situation had changed significantly in those eight years. In the 1140s and 1150s, in addition to buying off the three orders, Raymond-Berengar had also gained recognition of his rule from Alfonso VII of Castile-León, the ‘emperor of all Spain’ and the hegemon of Iberia.46 As in the case of the new Portuguese kingdom, this was much more useful than recognition by the pope. Alfonso VII was the most powerful of the Iberian kings and so recognition by him was essential. In 1157, however, he died.47 When Alfonso VII died so too did the legitimacy that Raymond-Berengar had gained from being recognized as ruler of Aragon by him. As a consequence, Raymond-Berengar now sought legitimacy from elsewhere. The obvious person to go to was the pope. That is why Adrian IV only issued an explicit confirmation of Raymond-Berengar’s succession in 1158; before then Raymond-Berengar had not petitioned for one. It was not the case that papal approval was needed and had hitherto been withheld, but that—at certain times—it was desirable, and at other times it was not.
This interpretation turns on its head one of the common assumptions of twelfth-century Iberian-papal relations: that the papacy actively refused to approve Raymond-Berengar’s succession—and the royal claims of the kings of Portugal—either because the popes sought to build up Alfonso VII as the supreme Iberian ruler,48 or because the popes refused to recognize any title which they themselves had not granted.49 Alfonso VII’s death in 1157 supposedly changed this, and the pope started to accept a plurality of Spanish kings. More probably, until Alfonso VII’s death, recognition by him was more important than recognition by the pope. Raymond-Berengar therefore did not request a specific confirmation of his rule from the pope until 1158. The dynamic of the papal–Aragonese relationship during this period was thoroughly reactive: the pope did not resist what was happening on the ground but issued letters and privileges when the Templars and (eventually) Raymond-Berengar petitioned him.
When Raymond-Berengar composed his own testament in 1162, leaving rule of Aragon-Catalonia to his eldest son, Raymond (subsequently Alfonso II of Aragon), he did not name the pope as guardian or guarantor of his testament. Instead he ‘left all his honour (honor) and sons in the regency, tutelage, and defence (in baiulia, tuicione, et deffensione) of the Lord Henry, king of England’.50 Having sought papal approval in 1158, Raymond-Berengar now thought that Henry II of England would be a better guarantor of his sons’ rights. He was probably right about that. In 1159 there had been a double papal election: some cardinals had elected Alexander III; some had elected Victor IV, who was backed by the German emperor, Frederick I. Raymond-Berengar had been carefully intransigent. Raymond-Berengar IV’s nephew (Raymond-Berengar of Provence) was married to Frederick I’s niece in 1161 and Frederick granted the counties of Provence and Forcalquier and the city of Arles—all part of the Empire—to Raymond-Berengar of Provence in 1162. Raymond-Berengar of Provence undertook only to recognize Victor IV in his lands, and not Alexander III.51 Raymond-Berengar IV needed Frederick’s support in Provence and so could not ignore Frederick’s pope. However, Afonso Henriques of Portugal had recognized Alexander III by January 1162, and the evidence suggests that Ferdinand II of León, Alfonso VIII of Castile and Sancho VI of Navarre had all recognized Alexander by 1160–1.52
Raymond-Berengar was thus alone on the Iberian peninsula in his vacillations. Had he asked Alexander III to protect his young son and kingdom, Frederick I might have moved against Provence; had Raymond-Berengar asked Victor IV to exercise ecclesiastical sanctions against prospective enemies, then anyone in Spain could have dismissed the sanctions as the ravings of a schismatic, since Castile, León, Portugal, and Navarre all recognized Alexander III. In order to keep Frederick I onside, but also to defend the young Alfonso II against external powers, Raymond-Berengar appointed Henry II of England as guardian of the king and kingdom. Henry’s effective power was limited; Ubieto Arteta called his regency a ‘smokescreen’, intended to allow counsellors or a council of regency to govern in place of the young Alfonso II.53 Soon after Raymond-Berengar’s death, a group of Aragonese and Catalan bishops and magnates recognized Ferdinand of León as ‘tutor and defender’ of Alfonso II ‘in place of a father’ (loco patris tutorem et defensorem meum et terrae meae).54 They apparently had to row back on this once it was established that Raymond-Berengar had left the guardianship to Henry II.55 Raymond-Berengar—and subsequently the Aragonese nobility—were trying to find the best name to scare off would-be opponents to the new king, whether such opponents were internal or external. The criteria varied slightly: unquestioned legitimacy was one, so Victor IV and Alexander III were out. Raymond-Berengar wanted someone powerful, and hence intimidating, but also distant so that the person could not really interfere. Thus Henry II of England. A cabal of Aragonese and Catalan ecclesiastics and nobles, however, thought they needed someone with the power to prevent their immediate neighbours moving against them; hence Ferdinand II of León.
No pope played any role in the succession to Raymond-Berengar. This was because the pope could be appealed to for aid, but did not have any intrinsic right to intervene. Nor was active intervention the modus operandi of the curia. The pope might be appealed to, but was unlikely to be proactive. By the end of the century papal status had recovered sufficiently that Alfonso II asked Pope Celestine III to confirm his 1194 testament through apostolic authority. This was not a request to act as guardian for his son and heir, Peter II, but a request to confirm Alfonso’s will and to subject anyone who dared flout it to sentence of interdict and anathema.56 Pope Innocent III did indeed confirm Alfonso’s testament in 1200 (although this was probably at the request of the queen-mother, Sancha, with whom Peter II was then in dispute).57 Throughout the twelfth century the papacy was one option, but rulers could appeal to other authority figures, or disregard the pope when his legitimacy was in question.
Conclusion
There are two arguments in this chapter: first that, after the language of papal investiture fell out of favour in the early twelfth century, the kingdoms of Aragon and Portugal eventually came under the rubric of protection. Their relationship with the papacy—from around 1150—was analogous to the protection which the papacy extended to some religious houses. In addition, the kings of Aragon were exempt from episcopal and archiepiscopal jurisdiction when it came to interdict and excommunication. This was probably a defence against Iberian ecclesiastics hostile to the Aragonese monarchy.
Secondly, the practical relationship between the popes and protected kings was reactive. The papacy could be ‘called in’, as the Templars did in 1135/6, as Raymond-Berengar did in 1158, and as Alfonso II did in 1194, but that tended to be the extent of papal activity. The popes were appealed to when the papacy was thought to be a useful authority. When papal legitimacy was in doubt—during the 1159–77 schism—the pope faded into the background. When a more local authority figure—Emperor Alfonso VII, for example—was seen as a better guarantor of security, then he was preferable to the pope. Afonso Henriques and Raymond-Berengar IV both initially needed Alfonso VII’s support more than Rome’s. The times changed, however, and the rulers of Portugal and Aragon-Catalonia changed with them. Eventually both sought papal legitimization, alongside papal protection.
Papal Overlordship and European Princes, 1000–1270. Benedict Wiedemann, Oxford University Press. © Benedict Wiedemann 2022. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780192855039.003.0004
1 Fried, päpstlicher Schutz, pp. 82–83; Schieffer, ‘Die Reichweite päpstlicher Entscheidungen’, p. 22; Smith, Innocent III and Aragon, pp. 48, 56–57; idem, ‘Sancho Ramirez and the Roman Rite’, pp. 97–98; Robinson, The Papacy, pp. 303–307; Duggan, ‘Alexander ille meus’, pp. 43–44.
2 Antonio Ubieto Arteta, Historia de Aragón: Creación y desarrollo de la corona de Aragón (Anubar: Zaragoza, 1987), p. 183.
3 Papsturkunden in Spanien, ed. Kehr et al., i, no. 107, pp. 392–393.
4 Papsturkunden in Spanien, ed. Kehr et al., i, nos. 268–269, pp. 578–579.
5 Papsturkunden in Spanien, ed. Kehr et al., i, no. 11, pp. 267–269.
6 Papsturkunden in Spanien, ed. Kehr et al., ii, no. 34, pp. 323–326.
7 Alexandri II pontificis Romani epistolae et diplomata, no. 80, PL 146, cols. 1362–3; Papsturkunden in Spanien, ed. Kehr et al., ii, nos. 3–4, pp. 260–265.
8 In addition to the examples above, see Fried, päpstlicher Schutz, no. 1, pp. 327–328; Papsturkunden in Spanien, ed. Kehr et al., i, nos. 5–6, 10, 44, 46–47, 49, pp. 254–258, 264–267, 309–311, 311–315, 315–317; Papsturkunden in Spanien, ed. Kehr et al., ii, nos. 13, 17, 25, pp. 282–285, 292–293, 308–310.
9 Papsturkunden in Spanien, ed. Kehr et al., i, no. 56, pp. 325–327 and subsequent; ibid., ii, no. 43, pp. 338–341 and subsequent.
10 Wiedemann, ‘Kingdom of Portugal’; Francesco Renzi, ‘Un regno sotto la protezione di San Pietro. I rapporti tra il Portogallo e la sede apostolica da una prospettiva Romana (1143–1212)’, Da conquista de Lisboa à conquista de Alcácer (1147–1217): definição e dinâmicas de um território de fronteira, ed. Isabel Cristina F. Fernandes, Maria João V. Branco (Colibri: Lisbon, 2019), pp. 237–274.
11 Linehan, History and the Historians, pp. 270–271, 278–279.
12 Lisbon, Arquivo Nacional—Torre do Tombo, Bulas, mç. 16, no. 20 http://digitarq.arquivos.pt/viewer?id=3908043 (accessed 30/11/2020).
13 Innocentii III regestorum sive epistolarum liber, 1213, no. 87, PL 216, cols. 888–9.
14 Fried, päpstlicher Schutz, p. 194 55n on the basis that the phrase maius privilegium suggests that the confirmation was issued after the Besançon incident. However, the confirmation also uses (synonymously) the phrase maiora beneficia.
15 Papsturkunden in Spanien, ed. Kehr et al., i, no. 82, pp. 365–366.
16 Papsturkunden in Spanien, ed. Kehr et al., i, no. 154, pp. 448–449; Innocentii III regestorum sive epistolarum liber, 1213, no. 87, PL 216, cols. 888–9.
17 For examples, see Papsturkunden in Spanien, ed. Kehr et al., i, nos. 200, 213, pp. 497–500, 514–517; ibid., ii, no. 133, pp. 468–472.
18 For examples, see Papsturkunden in Spanien, ed. Kehr et al., i, nos. 11, 47, 49, pp. 267–269, 313–315, 315–317.
19 Ubieto Arteta, Historia de Aragón, pp. 202–203; Peter Linehan, Spain 1157–1300: A Partible Inheritance (Blackwell: Oxford, 2008), p. 15.
20 The scholarship is considerable. See Linehan, History and the Historians, pp. 210–216; Fabrice Delivré, ‘The Foundations of Primatial Claims in the Western Church (Eleventh-Thirteenth Centuries)’, Journal of Ecclesiastical History 59 (2008), pp. 383–406, at 390–393.
21 Loud, Latin Church, p. 271.
22 Ibid., pp. 270–278.
23 Smith, Innocent III and Aragon, pp. 204–206.
24 Loud, Latin Church, pp. 255–258.
25 Geoffrey Malaterra, The Deeds of Count Roger of Calabria and Sicily and of his brother Duke Robert Guiscard, trans. Kenneth Baxter Wolf (University of Michigan Press: Ann Arbor, 2005), p. 213; Geoffrey Malaterra, De rebus gestis Rogerii Calabriae et Siciliae comitis et Roberti Guiscardi ducis fratris eius, ed. Ernesto Pontieri (Zanichelli: Bologna, 1928), p. 108.
26 Liber censuum, ii, no. 18, pp. 125–126; Loud, Creation, pp. 303–304.
27 Constitutiones et acta publica, ed. Weiland, i, nos. 413–414, pp. 588–591; The History of the Tyrants of Sicily, trans. Loud, Wiedemann, pp. 248–252.
28 Huillard-Bréholles, ‘Examen des chartes’, no. 11, pp. 331–334; Constitutiones et acta publica, ed. Weiland, i, no. 417, pp. 593–594.
29 Vita Stephani, ed. Wattenbach, p. 234; Hartvic, ‘Life of Stephen’, trans. Berend, pp. 375, 384.
30 Vetera monumenta Slavorum, ed. Augustin Theiner, 2 vols. (Ex Typis Vaticanis: Rome, 1863–75), i, no. 77, p. 57.
31 József Deér, ‘Der Anspruch der Herrscher des 12. Jahrhunderts auf die apostolische Legation’, Archivum Historiae Pontificiae 2 (1964), pp. 117–186, at 152–168.
32 Ibid., pp. 168–181.
33 Most recently see Nikolas Jaspert, ‘El testament d’Alfons I d’Aragó i les negociacions amb les institucions eclesiàstiques del regne llatí de Jerusalem’, Tractats i negociacions diplomàtiques amd els regnes peninsulars i l’Ándalus (segle XI–1213), ed. Maria Teresa Ferrer i Mallol, Manuel Riu i Riu (Institut dʾEstudis Catalans: Barcelona, 2018), pp. 9–18.
34 Elena Lourie, ‘The Will of Alfonso I, El Batallador, King of Aragon and Navarre: A Reassessment’, Speculum 50 (1975), pp. 635–651.
35 Alan Forey, ‘The Will of Alfonso I of Aragon and Navarre’, Durham University Journal 73 (1980), pp. 59–65; Elena Lourie, ‘The Will of Alfonso I of Aragon and Navarre: A Reply to Dr Forey’, Durham University Journal 77 (1985), pp. 165–173, with a further reply by Forey p. 173; Clay Stalls, Possessing the Land: Aragon’s Expansion into Islam’s Ebro Frontier under Alfonso the Battler, 1104–1134 (Brill: Leiden, 1995), pp. 273–274; Jaspert, ‘El testament d’Alfons I’, p. 10. Cf, however, Thomas Bisson, The Medieval Crown of Aragon: A Short History (Oxford University Press: Oxford, 1986), pp. 16–17.
36 Lourie, ‘Will of Alfonso’, p. 645.
37 Alan Forey, The Templars in the Corona de Aragón (Oxford University Press: London, 1973), pp. 17–24; Sara McDougall, Royal Bastards: The Birth of Illegitimacy, 800–1230 (Oxford University Press: Oxford, 2016), pp. 197–201; Damian Smith, ‘The Men who would be Kings: Innocent II and Spain’, Innocent II, ed. Doran, Smith, pp. 181–204, at 186–190.
38 Papsturkunden in Spanien, ed. Kehr et al., i, no. 50, p. 318.
39 The Templars: Selected Sources, trans. Malcolm Barber, Keith Bate (Manchester University Press: Manchester, 2002), pp. 60–61.
40 Papsturkunden in Spanien, ed. Kehr et al., ii, no. 35, pp. 326–328.
41 Liber Feudorum Maior, ed. Miquel Rosell, i, nos. 10–12, pp. 15–19.
42 BL, Additional Charter 16512 (an 1172 confirmation). For critical editions of the various recensions (not including the British Library version) see Els pergamins de l’arxiu comtal de Barcelona de Ramon Berenguer II a Ramon Berenguer IV, ed. Ignasi Baiges, Gaspar Feliu, Josep Salrach et al., 4 vols. (Fundació Noguera: Barcelona, 2010), iii, no. 822, pp. 1334–1339.
43 Forey, The Templars, pp. 18–24.
44 Joseph Delaville le Roulx, ‘Bulles pour l’ordre du Temple tirées des archives de S. Gervasio de Cassolas’, Revue de l’Orient Latin 11 (1905/08), pp. 405–439, at no. 1, pp. 407–408; Jaspert, ‘El testament d’Alfons I’, p. 15.
45 Papsturkunden in Spanien, ed. Kehr et al., i, no. 81, pp. 364–365.
46 Esther Pascua, ‘Peace among Equals: War and Treaties in Twelfth Century Europe’, War and Peace in Ancient and Medieval History, ed. Philip de Souza, John France (Cambridge University Press: Cambridge, 2008), pp. 193–210.
47 Linehan, History and the Historians, pp. 270–271, 278–279; Damian Smith, ‘The Abbot-Crusader: Nicholas Breakspear in Catalonia’, Adrian IV, ed. Bolton, Duggan, pp. 29–39, at 38–39.
48 Damian Smith, ‘The Papacy, the Spanish Kingdoms and Las Navas de Tolosa’, Anuario de Historia de la Iglesia 20 (2011), pp. 157–178, at 159; idem, ‘Alexander III and Spain’, Alexander III, ed. Duggan, Clarke, pp. 203–243, at 207–208; Smith, ‘The Abbot-Crusader’, p. 37; Stephen Lay, The Reconquest Kings of Portugal: Political and Cultural Reorientation on the Medieval Frontier (Palgrave MacMillan: Basingstoke, UK, 2009), pp. 103–104, 122–123, 136.
49 Smith, ‘The Men who would be Kings’, pp. 193–197.
50 Liber Feudorum Maior, ed. Miquel Rosell, i, no. 494, pp. 532–534.
51 Constitutiones et acta publica, ed. Weiland, i, no. 215, pp. 304–305.
52 Smith, ‘Alexander III and Spain’, Alexander III, ed. Duggan, Clarke, pp. 204–207 for Castile, León and Navarre. See Papsturkunden in Portugal, ed. Erdmann, no. 159, pp. 379–380 for Portugal.
53 Ubieto Arteta, Historia de Aragón, pp. 188–200, quotation at 196.
54 Jaime Villanueva, Viage literario a las iglesias de España, 22 vols. (Imprenta Real: Madrid, 1803–52), xvii: Viage á Lérida y Barcelona, no. 53, pp. 326–328.
55 Ubieto Arteta, Historia de Aragón, p. 190.
56 Alfonso II Rey de Aragón, Conde de Barcelona y Marqués de Provenza. Documentos (1162–1196), ed. Ana Isabel Sánchez Casabón (Institución Fernando el Católico: Zaragoza, 1995), nos. 628, 657, pp. 808–820, 853–855.
57 Butllari de Catalunya: documents pontificis originals conservats als arxius de Catalunya (1198–1417), ed. Tilmann Schmidt, Roser Sabanés i Fernández, 3 vols. (Fundació Noguera: Barcelona, 2016), i, no. 18, pp. 72–73. The confirmation was issued on the same day (5 May 1200) as a mandate ordering the archbishop of Tarragona to protect Sancha’s property: ibid., no. 17, p. 72. Smith, ‘Motivo y significado de la coronación de Pedro’, p. 173.