After a few years of any papacy it inevitably happens: people start wondering what life will be like in the next one. As the names roll in to be greeted with a raising of the eyes in some quarters and a quickening of the pulse in others, the old adage applies: be careful what you wish for. Who will succeed Pope Francis? God only knows. It seems highly unlikely, however, that the next conclave will elect a boy from Hertfordshire made good. And yet in 1154 that is exactly what happened.
As Adrian Waddingham – his subject’s papal namesake – observes, in the same century everyone knows about Thomas Becket but next to nothing about Adrian IV, the only Englishman ever to occupy the Throne of Peter. Nicholas Breakspear’s family later dropped an “e” and went on to found the Brakspear Brewery, but the eponymous “English Pope” seems almost entirely forgotten. Edward Gibbon made the same observation in 1789 and little has changed since.
Breakspear’s early life revolved around the great abbey at St Albans, the place of the passion of England’s protomartyr. His family was poor and he may well have been illegitimate. His papacy was brief and not without controversy, and he was unpopular in many quarters. Nevertheless, as Waddingham puts it, this is “a human story of an astonishing rise from a low birth in England to what was then the highest elected office in the world.”
“Astonishing” is about right. A bright boy who was long on intellect but short on funds, Breakspear tried to enter the community at St Albans but was rejected. Not satisfied with the prospect of a life of farm labour, he set out for distant lands to seek the education he had failed to secure at home – or so the romance goes. In fact he may have found a place with the Augustinians at Merton, but what is certain is that somehow he ended up in France and later became abbot of St Ruf in Provence.
As superior, his strict upholding of the Augustinian Rule led to complaints from his brethren – who had become used to a more comfortable life – to Rome. Eugenius III was unimpressed by the canons’ appeals and was instead struck by the character and qualities of their abbot. Eugenius had himself come from humble stock, and saw in Breakspear a kindred spirit. He tersely instructed the community to elect a new head, and spirited Breakspear away to Rome, where he installed him in the Curia. The die was cast.
Breakspear was made a cardinal almost immediately and sent to Scandinavia as papal legate, where he reorganised the Church in Sweden and established it in Norway. He returned to Rome to the plaudits of Anastasius IV, Eugenius’s successor, for a job well done. His stock at Rome could hardly have been higher when Anastasius died two years later. Breakspear’s election was swift: the 16-strong conclave was unanimous at the first vote.
It was a short reign, and not an easy ride. Before he died in 1159 Adrian had to strengthen the position of the papacy while dealing with the foolish heresies of Arnold of Brescia and the bare-faced impudence of Frederick Barbarossa, the Holy Roman Emperor. Waddingham’s treatment of his involvement in Ireland is particularly judicious. Adrian’s original support of Henry II’s conquest may have been unwise, but he can hardly be held responsible for what has happened since.
As Waddingham puts it, Adrian’s was “a throne full of thorns”. He was elected at a time when a younger, stronger leader was needed to fend off the challenges that the papacy faced. He was robust and flexible – pragmatic, even – and managed to protect the independence of the Church at a time of considerable turmoil. Had he lived longer – he ruled for only four years and eight months and died in his late fifties – he would probably have been regarded as a very great pope indeed.
This is the first major book about Breakspear in nearly a century. A useful cast of characters opens the text, with maps that chart Breakspear’s journeys and the lie of the land across which he travelled. A timeline reads like a revision guide and is no less helpful for it. This work – a retirement project – has clearly been a labour of love. It is an informative and enjoyable account of the life of one of England’s “illustrious but neglected son[s]”.
Ben Stephens is a freelance journalist
(Photo: Hertfordshire County Council; Supplied by The Public Catalogue Foundation)
Areas of Catholic Herald business are still recovering post-pandemic.
However, we are reaching out to the Catholic community and readership, that has been so loyal to the Catholic Herald. Please join us on our 135 year mission by supporting us.
We are raising £250,000 to safeguard the Herald as a world-leading voice in Catholic journalism and teaching.
We have been a bold and influential voice in the church since 1888, standing up for traditional Catholic culture and values. Please consider donating.