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BOOK I
THE GREAT SCHISM. 1378-1414
CHAPTER III.
BONIFACE IX. BENEDICT XIII.
ATTEMPTS OF FRANCE TO HEAL THE SCHISM.
1394— 1404.
When, on September 22, 1394, the news of the death of
Clement VII reached Paris, it was felt that a great opportunity was offered for
ending the Schism. A meeting of the Royal Council was held immediately, and a
messenger was dispatched, post haste, to Avignon bearing a royal missive to the
Cardinals, requiring them to make no new election till they had received an
embassy which the King was about to send. In this the royal zeal outsped the
monitions of the University; but that body sent a letter to the Cardinals by
the hands of the royal ambassadors. “Never could there be again such an
opportunity of healing the Schism; it was as though the Holy Ghost stood at the
door and knocked”. No time was lost by the King: on the 24th a royal embassy
was sent off to Avignon, but heard on the way the news of the election of
Peter de Luna.
It was, in fact, too much to expect that the Cardinals
at Avignon should trust themselves to the tender mercies of the King of France.
They had advised Clement VII to take steps towards ending the Schism, and had
been ready to second the advice of the University of Paris. But in any measures
taken by a Pope, their dignity could at least be spared, and their interests
respected. The extinction of the Schism, by preventing the election of another
Pope, meant the extinction of the Cardinals themselves. The one unmistakable
right of Cardinals was the election of a Pope: if they did not proceed to the
election, they cast a doubt on the validity of their own office, which they
could not expect that others would esteem more highly than they did themselves.
They lost no time in entering into Conclave, and the King’s first letter
reached Avignon just as the doors were being closed, on the evening of
September 26. But the Cardinals suspected its contents, and resolved to read it
after the election, which was the business on which they were at present
engaged. At the same time, wishing to free themselves from the charge of
promoting the Schism, they drew out a solemn form of oath binding themselves to
do all in their power to end the Schism, and binding him who should be
elected to resign the Papacy, if a majority of the Cardinals called on him to
do so in the interests of the Church. Of the twenty-four Cardinals who then
composed the College, three were absent, and of those present only three
refused to sign this declaration. The eighteen Cardinals who signed proceeded
at once to deliberate: one Cardinal was proposed, but he cried out, “I am
feeble, and perhaps would not abdicate, I prefer not to be exposed to the
temptation!” “I, on the other hand”, said Peter de Luna, “would abdicate as
easily as I take off my hat”. All eyes were turned on him; his political skill
was well established, and his zeal for the reunion of the Church was credited.
On September 28, Peter de Luna was elected Pope, and took the title of Benedict
XIII.
The election of Peter de Luna was, in itself,
unexceptionable. Sprung from an old Aragonese house, he had devoted himself to
the study of canon law, of which he became professor in the University of
Montpellier. Gregory XI made him a cardinal on account of his learning, and his
ability had always made him a man of mark in the Curia. He was a man of blameless
life, and his enemies could bring no charge against him save that of fostering
the Schism. His cleverness, however, verged on craft and subtlety, and in his
dealings with Spain and with the court of France he had shown an ingrained love
of intrigue and a delight in managing complicated affairs which augured ill for
his pliability. His short and spare frame contained a restless and resolute
mind, and the Cardinals who had voted for him on the ground of his repeated
protestations of his desire to end the unhappy Schism of the Church, found that
he meant the end to come only in the way which he pleased.
At first, however, all went smoothly, and so delighted
was the University of Paris with the new Pope’s expressions of readiness to
adopt any measures for appeasing the Schism, that they hailed him as indeed
Benedict — one blessed indeed if he spread on all sides the blessing of peace.
The letter in which he announced his election to the French King assured him
that he had only accepted the office of Pope as a means of ending the Schism,
and reminded him how entirely their views had agreed on this point when they
had discussed the matter together at Paris. No one could speak more fairly than
Benedict. The envoys of the University in their first interview met him as he
was going to table; as he took off his hat before sitting down he repeated his
remark that he could lay aside his office as easily as his cap. Promises and
fair words were easily uttered, but the year came to an end and nothing
further had been done.
In February, 1395, a synod of bishops met in Paris,
and after considering the three methods proposed by the University, gave its
opinion in favor of abdication as the best way of ending the Schism. Benedict
could suggest any better way, let him do so: if not, let him place himself in
the King’s hands, who would then confer with the princes of the obedience of
Boniface, and take steps to compel him to do likewise. Armed with this opinion,
a royal embassy was sent to Benedict, headed by the Dukes of Burgundy and
Berri, the King’s uncles, and the Duke of Orleans, his brother. They arrived at
Avignon on May 22, and lost no time in urging their business. The Pope met them
by raising difficulties at every step. First, there was a discussion whether
they might see the document which the Cardinals had signed before the election:
when at last they obtained a copy, Benedict warned them that it did not follow
that those who had signed it before would sign it now, and as for himself his
position had been entirely changed since his election. When the proposal for
abdication was made, Benedict met it by the impossible suggestion of a
conference between the two Popes, under the protection of the French King, for
the purpose of discussing their respective pretensions. When this was naturally
rejected by the royal ambassadors, Benedict asked that their propositions
should be reduced to writing and submitted to him in due form. He was answered
that the King’s proposal was contained in one word, “abdication”. At this he was
offended, and complained of scant courtesy; he was ready to receive advice, not
commands, as he was not bound to obey any one save Christ. When the Pope was
thus found to be unyielding, the Duke of Burgundy resolved to bring the opinion
of the College of Cardinals to bear on his obstinacy. He summoned the Cardinals
to his house, and demanded the private opinion of each upon the course to be
pursued. Nineteen agreed more or less decidedly with the proposition of the
King: one, the Cardinal of Pampeluna, the only Spanish member of the College,
advocated the martial method of ending the Schism by forcibly expelling
Boniface IX from Rome; if this were impossible, he preferred a conference to
abdication.
The attempt to exercise pressure on Benedict XIII was
a mistake, and the negotiations were conducted in an overbearing manner that
was sure to provoke his resentment. Benedict before his election was well
aware of the schemes of the University, and had gauged the capacity of the men
who advocated them. Now that he was Pope, he was responsible for maintaining
the rights of his office, and the crude proposals of the University theologians
were scarcely likely to commend themselves to one who was well versed in canon
law. Benedict may be pardoned for feeling it his duty to resist a scheme which
was founded on the use of compulsion towards the two claimants of a disputed
succession. It was a clumsy attempt to cut the knot instead of untying it.
One of the claimants was clearly the rightful Pope: it might be difficult to
find any legal means of settling on which side the right lay, but the proposal
to over-ride the question of right by compelling both claimants to abdicate was
a rude abolition of law in favor of violence. Moreover, Benedict saw clearly
enough the practical difficulties which lay in the way of the plans of the
University. If he were to abdicate, what guarantee was there that his rival
could be compelled to do likewise? He was asked to place himself unreservedly
in the hands of the King of France, who probably after a few years of
unsuccessful negotiations would set up a pope of his own, entirely subservient
to the French Crown. Benedict’s obedience comprised other kingdoms besides
France; he was himself a Spaniard, and resented the interference of France as
though it were the only power concerned in this matter, which affected the
whole of Christendom. He said, with some truth, that if he had been a
Frenchman, he would not have been treated with such arrogance; there were other
kings besides the King of France, other Universities besides that of Paris: he
could not answer the King’s proposals till he had consulted with the doctors of
the University of Avignon, for no clerks were more learned than they, and many
came from Paris to consult them.
On June 20, Benedict, in the presence of two Cardinals
only, gave his answer, in the shape of a Bull, to the ambassadors; he repeated
his proposal of a conference, and reiterated his objections to the procedure by
abdication. It was to no purpose that the ambassadors tried to bring pressure
to bear upon him through the Cardinals, who declared themselves on the King’s
side. Benedict met them with tact and prudence, and overwhelmed them with
formal objections. The ambassadors lived in Villeneuve, on the opposite side of
the Rhône from Avignon; whether it was a measure to speed their departure or
not cannot be said, but one night the wooden bridge across the Rhone caught
fire, and thenceforth the ambassadors’ interviews with Pope or Cardinals were
checked by the fact that they had to cross the turbulent Rhône in an open boat.
They could obtain nothing from Benedict XIII but more Bulls expressing his
willingness to do what he had suggested: with these they returned to Paris on
August 24. Their mission had proved entirely fruitless.
Both sides now prepared for war. The University of
Paris, stung by the attack of Benedict, at once presented a memorial to the
King, desiring him to call a synod, and by its authority deprive Benedict of
the right of presentation to benefices; and cut him off from his ecclesiastical
revenues. The royal advisers were not, however, prepared to take such a
decisive step; and the University contented itself with sending circular
letters to all the princes and universities in Europe, urging them to join in enforcing
their policy upon the contending Popes. On his side Benedict drew nearer to
Spain, and the King of Castile wrote angrily to the Cardinals, complaining that
they took counsel with the French King, and did not consult him; “yet I think
that among Christian princes I ought to be consulted as much as any other King
whatever”. Moreover, the University of Toulouse espoused his cause, and began
to attack the theological position of the University of Paris. Already, while
the French ambassadors were at Avignon, the representatives of the University
of Paris had laid before them eight conclusions put forward by an English
Dominican, John Hayton, which were entirely subversive of their position.
Hayton asserted the rights of the one Head of the Church, the Pope, and
denounced the use of coercion to make him abandon them: he did not hesitate to
call the University “a daughter of Satan, mother of error, nurse of sedition,
defamer of the Pope”. The envoys of the University urged the royal ambassadors
to procure the Papal condemnation of these conclusions of Hayton, and the Pope
faintly condemned them. But Benedict XIII showed considerable tact in detaching
from the side of the University some of its most distinguished men. Benedict
was himself a scholar, and as such had an attraction for other scholars; while
the practical steps, which the University recommended as the means of carrying
their opinions into effect, naturally awakened repugnance in many thoughtful
minds. The simple scholar would feel little interest in urging on the King the
use of forcible means to bring Benedict to abdicate: he would see that it was
impossible to restore spiritual authority by means of compulsion applied in
such a way. Hence we find Nicolas de Clemanges, who had been rector of the University
in 1393, invited by Benedict to be his secretary and librarian in 1394; and
early in 1395 the learned Peter d'Ailly resigned his offices in the University,
and accepted from Benedict the rich bishopric of Cambrai.
This retirement of the more moderate men only made the
action of the University more vehement. It submitted, in the form of questions,
nine definite points which had been in their opinion raised by the refusal of
Benedict to accept the proposed abdication. Has the Pope by his refusal fallen
into heresy and mortal sin? Are the Cardinals bound any longer to obey him?
Ought he to be compelled to abdicate, and if so, by whom? Is he subject to a
General Council? Are his censures against those who proceed in this matter to
be heeded? These were the questions raised by the University, and their bare
statement caused a reaction in favor of the Pope. They were revolutionary,
and struck at the root of the existing organization of the Church, and the
Papal headship altogether. The most eminent of the University theologians, Jean
Gerson, who had done much to mold its opinion, raised his voice in favor of
milder measures. An answer to these questions on the part of the University
would, he pleaded, only lead to a counter argument on the side of the Pope, and
when once dogmatic opinions had been put forward on either side, obstinacy
would take the place of reason, as no one would willingly confess that he had
been a heretic. Matters were stayed for a time, but the ill-feeling between
Benedict and the University increased. Benedict harassed the University in
small points, and the University appealed from Benedict to a future Pope, “one,
true, orthodox and universal”. Benedict replied that an appeal from the Roman
pontiff was unlawful. The University retorted that, in that case, S. Peter’s
chair must be assumed to make its possessors impeccable. The pride of the
University was more and more involved in the struggle, which had become almost
a personal one, and its representations to the French King were redoubled.
At the end of 1396, embassies were sent to Germany,
England and Spain to gain co-operation in carrying out the ecclesiastical
policy of France. After a little wavering the King of Castile gave in his
adhesion; and Richard II of England, who had married a daughter of Charles VI,
and hoped for French help in carrying out his high-handed policy at home, was
also willing to acquiesce. In June, 1397, a joint embassy from the Kings of
England, France and Castile was sent to Rome and Avignon. When Benedict XIII
declined to give a definite answer to their proposals, he was informed that the
French King required him to take steps before February 2, 1398; that the Schism
must be healed by that date, otherwise the King would himself proceed to
remove its causes.
Charles VI was now pledged to proceed to extremities,
but wished first to engage on his side Wenzel, King of the Romans. Wenzel was
personally on good terms with Boniface IX, who had good-naturedly overlooked
his wild violations of ecclesiastical privileges; but the University of Prague
had followed the lead of the University of Paris, and the Bohemian King felt
himself called upon to seem to do something. A conference was held between the
two monarchs at Rheims, on March 23, 1398, to decide the future of Christendom.
They were a strange pair for such a purpose — a madman and a drunkard. Charles
VI enjoyed intervals of reason, and, though feeble in mind at all times, was
still beloved by his people for his personal kindliness. Wenzel day by day grew
more besotted in his vices, and was only able to do business in the morning
before he had time to get drunk. The two Kings agreed that between them they
would restore the peace of the Church. Charles VI undertook to force Benedict
XIII to abdicate, and Wenzel vaguely promised to compel Boniface IX to do
likewise, if it could be done without prejudice to his own honor. On this
understanding, Charles VI returned to Paris, and did his utmost to fulfill his
promise; it would have been well for Wenzel if he had acted with like
determination.
On May 22, 1398, a synod of French bishops and
representatives of the Universities assembled in Paris in obedience to the
royal summons. The King himself was unable to attend through illness, but the
Dukes of Berri, Burgundy, and Orleans were present. Simon Cramaud, Patriarch of
Alexandria, the chief ecclesiastic in France, and a staunch supporter of the
royal policy, was president of the synod; he laid before it as the question for
discussion how the abdication of Benedict XIII was to be procured — whether for
that purpose a total or partial withdrawal of obedience was necessary. It was
agreed that six disputants on either side should put forth the arguments for
and against Benedict XIII. On the side of Benedict was urged, first, the theoretical
unlawfulness of a withdrawal of allegiance, since the supremacy of the Pope was
absolute, and nothing save heresy could impair it; next the practical
inconveniences, as it would be the cause of great disorders, and would probably
harden the resistance of Benedict rather than subdue it; if he were to abdicate
after such withdrawal of allegiance, his adherents would declare it had been
done under compulsion; if he were not to abdicate, it was impossible to see
what might happen; moreover such a step was fatal also to the foundations of
civil government, for it gave an example of rebellion. On the side of the
clergy and University it was urged that the life of the Church lay in unity,
and schism was its death; only when the Pope cares for the unity of the Church
is he Christ’s vicar, when he opposes unity he is Christ’s adversary; as to the
argument about the danger to civil governments of the example of withdrawing
allegiance from the Pope, there was no analogy between the two; for Christ said
“the Kings of the Gentiles exercise lordship over them, but whosoever amongst
you would be greatest, let him be your servant” ; the temporal power is not
subject to the people, but the Pope is the servant of the Church, and must act
for its good; his abdication is necessary to heal the Schism, and the
withdrawal of allegiance is necessary to cut off his resources and reduce him
to submit.
After this disputation the votes of the assembly were
taken; two hundred and forty-seven voted in favor of immediate withdrawal of
obedience; twenty voted for postponing the question at present and summoning
the Pope afresh; sixteen voted for holding a council of the entire obedience of
Benedict, and submitting the matter to its consideration. After this vote the
royal order was signed on July 27, 1398, for the withdrawal of allegiance,
which cut off from Benedict all power over the French Church, and all means of
raising money out of the ecclesiastical revenues of France.
The University of Paris had worked its will at last,
and could certainly claim the credit or blame of all that had been done. It had
succeeded in awakening men’s minds a desire to end the Schism, and had
asserted, as the basis for all action, the superiority of the interests of the
Church as a whole over the interests of its contending rulers. But the doctors
of the University were still under the power of the ideas of the Middle Ages.
They took their stand upon the necessity of a formal unity of the Church, which
was to be represented by the outward unity of its government. Many minds, amid
the jangle of contending assertions, tended towards neutrality, and looked,
upon both Popes with suspicion; many advocated a national government for each
national Church; but the University maintained stoutly the mediaeval desire for
outward unity, and carried its theories no farther than was necessary under
existing circumstances for its restoration. But there was an inherent weakness
in the policy of the University, for it resorted to extraordinary measures,
while it could not be sure that they would gain their end. The withdrawal of
allegiance from Benedict was an act entirely opposed to the ecclesiastical
constitution, and no reasons except those of expediency could be urged in its
favor. Moreover, that measure in itself was only a dubious step towards gaining
the end proposed. The University argued that the withdrawal of the allegiance
of France would probably lead to the abdication of Benedict; and then the
example of France would probably be followed by the Empire towards Boniface,
who would also probably be compelled to abdicate; and then the united Church
could again choose a head. The chance of ultimate success in this elaborate
scheme was too far distant to justify the revolutionary step which was to set
all in motion. Revolutionary measures are dangerous unless they are likely to
effect their end at once; in this case the inevitable reaction in favor of
legality set in before the first step could be accomplished.
France counted on forcing Benedict into perfect
submission. Immediately after the Council, D'Ailly, Bishop of Cambrai, who had
previously been mission employed in negotiation with the Pope, set out together
with Marshal Boucicaut for Avignon. If persuasions failed, Boucicaut, who
stayed behind at Lyons, was to proceed to force. When D'Ailly in his first
interview with Benedict expressed the King’s wish that he should resign his
office, Benedict changed color and angrily exclaimed, “I will never do so as
long as I live, and I wish the King of France to know that I will pay no heed
to his ordinances, but will keep my name and Papacy till death”. D'Ailly
replied that he could accept no answer which was not made after counsel with
the Cardinals; two who were present joined in urging the summoning of a
consistory. Next morning D'Ailly spoke before the assembled Cardinals and then
left them to their deliberations, which were stormy. Many of them urged the
Pope to yield, and when he refused they left the consistory in anger. D'Ailly,
who was waiting outside, entered the room, and asked for Benedict’s answer. The
Pope, still sitting on his throne, with one or two Cardinals around him,
answered with indomitable spirit that he had been duly elected Pope, and would
remain so as long as he lived. “Tell our son of France”, he added, “that until
now we have held him for a good Catholic; but if from ill advice he is about to
enter into error, he will repent it; but I pray you tell him from me to take
good advice, and not incline to anything which may trouble his conscience”.
Saying this the Pope left his throne, and D'Ailly mounted his horse to carry
the news of his ill success to Boucicaut, who had already advanced to the Fort
of St. Andre, twenty-seven miles from Avignon.
D'Ailly’s mission had failed, and Boucicaut’s was now
to begin. He rapidly raised a body of troops, for many were eager to share in
the plunder of Avignon. On September 1 the withdrawal of allegiance was
proclaimed at Villeneuve, and Benedict’s French supporters left him; eighteen
of his twenty-three Cardinals went to Villeneuve and wrote to the French King
proclaiming their renunciation of the stubborn Pope. The citizens of Avignon
were not desirous of suffering a siege for the Pope’s sake, and welcomed
Boucicaut’s soldiers into the city. Benedict was besieged in his palace, where
he made a stubborn defense. Victuals, however, began to fail, and all the
store of fuel was set on fire and burnt. The two Cardinals who adhered to
Benedict were captured in an attempt to escape, and were put in prison.
Everywhere Benedict seemed to be deserted. Flanders, Sicily, Castile, and
Navarre joined with France in the withdrawal of allegiance; only Scotland and
Aragon still held by Benedict. The King of Aragon, in spite of Benedict’s
summons to him as gonfalonier of the Church, hesitated to enter into war with
France for the sake of a priest. Still Benedict held out stubbornly, and his
brother, Rodrigo de Luna, was energetic in introducing supplies. The besiegers
attempted to enter the castle through a sewer which communicated with the
kitchen, but were discovered, and were captured one by one as they slowly
crawled out of their subterranean passage. This led to an exchange of
prisoners, and the blockade was more strictly pressed. But the troubled state
of France itself brought Benedict help.
Among the numerous intriguers who gathered round the
unhappy Charles VI, there were some who hoped to find Benedict useful for their
own purposes, and who secretly exerted their influence with the King to save
the Pope from being reduced to extremities. Orders were sent to Marshal
Boucicaut that he was not to pursue the siege too vigorously, and the
experienced general must have felt ashamed of the pitiful duty assigned to him.
Ambassadors from the King of Aragon urged Charles VI to a reconciliation. After
much negotiation it was agreed that Charles should withdraw his troops and
guarantee Benedict’s safety at Avignon, provided Benedict promised that he
would abdicate in case Boniface abdicated, died, or was ejected; that he would
not hinder any plans for the union of the Church, and would be willing to
attend any Council held for that purpose; that meanwhile he would not leave
Avignon without the King’s permission, and would receive guardians of his
person appointed by the King. Benedict’s resources were at an end, and he was
obliged to accept these terms, which at all events gave him time.
On April 10, 1399, the King nominated as the Pope’s
guardians the College of Cardinals; but Benedict placed himself under the
protection of the Duke of Orleans, who had already discovered how useful a Pope
might be for his ambitious schemes. This matter was not decided for the
present, but became of importance in the future. Already the French Court found
that the reaction in favor of Benedict had set in, and that their course was
full of difficulties. Three of the Cardinals, who in January, 1399, had come to
Paris to accuse Benedict of heresy and urge sterner measures against him, were
hooted by the people in the streets. The clergy also found, as was always the case,
that the yoke of the Crown was heavier than the yoke of the Pope; they groaned
over the impositions of the royal treasury, and began to regard the enthusiasm
for the peace of the Church as a convenient means of fiscal exaction from
ecclesiastical revenues. In this state of public feeling the Court was glad of
a truce with Benedict, who remained for the next four years a prisoner in his
palace at Avignon eagerly watching the current of events.
Meanwhile Boniface IX at Rome had been feeling the
pressure of this movement in behalf of unity; but his greater independence of
his political position enabled him more safely to resist. Boniface was a
clear-sighted statesman, and after his return to Rome in 1394 kept steadily in
view the importance of strengthening his hold upon the city. The States of the
Church were ravaged by the old opponents of the Pope — Biordo de Michelotti,
who had seized upon Assisi, Malatesta de' Malatesta, who had made himself lord
of Todi, and Onorato of Fundi, who was always on the watch to attack the Pope,
and who strove to raise among the Romans a party in favor of Benedict XIII.
Boniface saw that his only hope of success against
these foes lay in close alliance with Ladislas, who, in 1395, after capturing
Aversa and Capua, laid siege to Naples. But the siege was broken by some
Provençal galleys, which routed the Papal fleet, and the final triumph of
Ladislas was delayed for some years longer. Yet Boniface did not serve Ladislas
for nothing; he obtained from him the investiture of the Duchy of Sora for his
brother Giovanni Tomacelli. Boniface, like all other Popes who aimed at
temporal sovereignty, felt the need of helpers whom he could trust. He carried
on the nepotism of which Urban VI had set the example; but he was more
fortunate in his relatives. His brother Andrea, invested by him with the Duchy
of Spoleto and the marquisate of Ancona, was an experienced soldier, and on him
and Giovanni, Boniface mainly relied for counsel and aid. With the rise of a
new Pope the relatives of his predecessor were swept away. The end of Francesco
Prignano, the nephew of Urban VI, was tragic enough. Neglected by all on his
uncle’s death, and fearful for the future, he took refuge with Raimondello
Orsini in one of his castles in the Abruzzi. There he grew day by day more
melancholy at the thought of his fall, till at last one day, after a ball given
by his host, he returned to his room and attempted suicide with a knife. On his
recovery Raimondello feared to keep any longer so unpleasant a guest, and it was
agreed that Francesco should hand over to him all that was left of his once
vast possessions, the county of Altamura, in return for 12,000 florins, and an
annual pension. When this was settled, Francesco set sail with his wife and
mother to Venice; but on the way the ship was lost, and all that remained of
the lineage of Urban VI were swallowed in the waves.
In all things Boniface IX, pursued with firmness and
prudence his policy of establishing his hold over Rome and the dominions of the
Church, and it is surprising to see how he succeeded amid the many difficulties
by which he was beset. In 1396 was another rising of the Romans against him;
some of the nobles of the city, in league with the Count of Fondi, conspired to
put him to death. Again King Ladislas lent his aid, and the rising was with
difficulty put down. Thirteen ringleaders, in whose houses were found banners
to wave before the rebel army, were executed, and the people of Trastevere were
deprived of their franchises. Boniface determined to rule the Romans with
a strong hand. Yet day by day his position became more insecure, as the steps
taken by France to bring about a union of the Church grew more decisive. The
blows leveled at Benedict fell upon Boniface as well; the enforced abdication
of one was regarded as the preliminary to the enforced abdication of the other.
So soon as Charles VI reduced Benedict to submission, it would be the duty of
Wenzel to deal with Boniface. Hence Boniface saw with alarm the spread of
French influence in Italy. Genoa, worn out with intestine discords, handed over
to the King of France its signiory in October, 1396. In vain Boniface tried to
awaken the national jealousy of the English and enlist their sympathy. He
appointed the King’s half-brother, John Holland, Earl of Huntingdon, leader of
a crusade in his behalf. But Richard II adhered to his plan of a close alliance
between himself and the French King. Nothing was done by the Earl of
Huntingdon, and the internal troubles of the last years of Richard’s reign rendered
English intervention impossible. Yet Boniface was pestered with embassies and
advice in the same way as Benedict. To the ambassadors of France and Spain he
answered haughtily that he was the true and undoubted Pope, and had no
intentions of resigning his office. A worthy hermit of the name of Robert, who
at the end of 1396 undertook the task of visiting Rome and Avignon in the
interests of peace, could get no better answer from Boniface than a declaration
that he would not consent to place the justice of his cause in another man’s
hands. After the conference at Rheims between Charles VI and Wenzel, Peter
d'Ailly, the Bishop of Cambrai, was sent as joint-ambassador of King and
Emperor to the two Popes. He visited Boniface first, and found him at Fondi, where
he met with an honorable reception. Boniface refused to answer him till he had
consulted his Cardinals at Rome; then he replied that so soon as Benedict had
resigned he was willing to submit to the advice of the Kings of England,
Germany and Hungary, and would attend a General Council if they thought fit to
summon one. When this answer was brought back to Wenzel, he said to D'Ailly,
“You will carry this to the King of France; according as he shall act, so will
I and the Empire; but he must begin first, and when he has deposed his Pope, we
will depose ours”.
The Roman people meanwhile looked upon these embassies
with suspicion. They might not like Boniface face, but they were anxious to
have a Pope at Rome. The year 1400 was drawing near, and they were looking
forward to the rich harvest which they were likely to reap from the pilgrims
who would flock to the Jubilee. A number of the leading citizens hastened to
Boniface after his interview with D'Ailly to assure themselves that he had no
intention of leaving Rome. “Whatever the Emperor or the King of France may do,
I will not submit to their will”, was the answer of Boniface.
Indeed, the position of Boniface in Rome was gradually
growing stronger. In February, 1397, Onorato of Fondi found it expedient to make
peace with the Pope, and several of the Roman nobles also submitted. The
affairs of Ladislas in Naples were at a standstill, owing to the defection of
some of his chief adherents; but after many negotiations, their differences
were referred to the mediation of Boniface, who arranged matters in June, 1398.
From this time the party of Ladislas was united, and the hopes of Louis began
to fade away. One by one the chief barons of the Angevin faction began to
reconcile themselves with Ladislas; and the power of the Pope over the States
of the Church grew in proportion to the success of Ladislas in Naples. Aided by
this and by the pliancy of the Romans, who had set their hopes on the Jubilee,
Boniface in 1398 proceeded more vigorously to establish his power over the city
of Rome and appointed a vice-senator responsible only to himself. The
Republican party amongst the Romans, headed by three of the former magistrates,
formed a plot to throw off the Papal yoke, and allied themselves to the
restless Count of Fondi, who promised to support their rising in the city by an
attack on the gate of S. John Lateran. The vigilance of the vice-senator
discovered the plot, and the ringleaders were beheaded; but Onorato of Fondi
seized Ostia, and carried on a piratical war against the city, cutting off its
supplies and hindering free communication with it. Boniface used the
opportunity given by this unsuccessful rising to assert his supremacy over
Rome, and the year 1398 was remembered as the epoch of the loss of the liberties
of the city. As other Italian cities let their municipal liberties fall into
abeyance and submitted to the power of a despot, so the city of Rome fell under
the sway of the Pope. Henceforth the old magistrates disappeared, and Rome was
governed by a senator appointed by the Pope every six months. Moreover Boniface
IX took the same steps as other despots to secure his power. The Vatican palace
was strongly fortified; the Castle of S. Angelo, which had been dismantled in
the time of Urban VI, was restored and surmounted by a strong tower; the palace
of the Senator on the Capitol was built up and fortified. Many poor priests
labored at this work, carrying stones and cement in the vain hope of winning by
their manual labor some ecclesiastical preferment from the Pope. The Papal
fleet was again revived, and Gaspar Cossa, of Ischia, was made admiral. Ostia
was taken directly under the Pope’s rule, and was repaired for purposes of
defence. Boniface IX shows in all his doings the keen practical sense which
Urban VI so entirely lacked.
Secure in Rome, Boniface at once turned against his
enemies. In May, 1399, a solemn Bull of excommunication was issued against
Onorato of Fondi, and the Papal troops, under Andrea Tomacelli, the Pope’s
brother, marched against him. Anagni fell at once before him, and the success
of Ladislas in Naples made Onorato’s position desperate. The barons of the
Neapolitan kingdom continued to abandon the side of Louis and join themselves
to Ladislas, till at last the adhesion of the powerful family of the
Sanseverini left Ladislas conqueror.
In July, 1399, he sailed to Naples while Louis was
absent at Taranto, and was quickly admitted by the citizens within the walls.
Charles of Anjou, the brother of Louis, was besieged in the Castel Nuovo; and
when Louis returned he found Naples in the hands of his rival. Feeling that his
chances were lost, he made terms with Ladislas, surrendered the Castel Nuovo,
ransomed his brother, and sailed away to Provence, leaving Ladislas in
undisturbed possession of Naples. Onorato of Fondi now saw that his cause was
hopeless, and was driven to make terms with the Pope, by which he gave up
almost the whole of his possessions. Unable to bear the humiliation, he died in
April, 1400, and by his death Boniface became lord of Campania.
In October, 1399, another of the Pope’s enemies,
Giovanni da Vico, who had so long ravaged the Patrimony of S. Peter, was driven
to submit. Freed from his most pressing foes, Boniface IX could look forward to
celebrate the Jubilee in triumph.
THE FLAGELLANTS
The end of the fourteenth century witnessed a profound
outburst of popular devotion. The miserable condition of the Church, distracted
by schism, and the disturbed state of every country in Europe, awoke a spirit
of penitence and contrition at the prospect of another great Jubilee, and the
opening of a new century. Bands of penitents wandered from place to place, clad
in white garments: their faces, except the eyes, were covered with hoods, and
on their backs they wore a red cross. They walked two and two, in solemn
procession, old and young, men and women together, singing hymns of penitence,
amongst which the sad strains of the “Stabat Mater” held the chief place. At
times they paused and flung themselves on the ground, exclaiming “Mercy”, or
“Peace”, and continued in silent prayer. All was done with order and decorum;
the processions generally lasted for nine days, and the penitents during this
time fasted rigorously. The movement seems to have originated in Provence, but
rapidly spread through Italy. Enemies were reconciled, restitution was made for
wrongs, the churches were crowded wherever the penitents, or “Bianchi”, as they
were called from their dress, made their appearance. The inhabitants of one
city made a pilgrimage to another and stirred up their devotion. The people of
Modena went to Bologna; the Bolognese suspended all business for nine days, and
walked to Imola, whence the contagion rapidly spread southwards. For the last
three months of 1399 this enthusiasm lasted, and wrought marked results upon
morals and religion for a time. Yet enthusiasm tended to create imposture.
Crucifixes were made to sweat blood; a fanatic declared that he was the Prophet
Elias, and foretold the impending destruction of the world. Crowds of men and
women wandering about, and spending the night together in the open air, gave
reason for suspicion of grave disorders. Boniface, like the Duke of Milan and
the Venetians, as a cautious statesman in troublous times, doubted the results
that might occur from any great gatherings of people for a common purpose. He
was afraid lest his enemies might seize the opportunity and hatch some new plot
against him. When the bands of the Bianchi reached Rome in the year of Jubilee,
he discountenanced and finally dissolved them. The movement passed away; but it
has left its dress as a distinctive badge to the confraternities of mercy which
are familiar to the traveller in the streets of many cities of Italy.
In the Jubilee of 1400, crowds of pilgrims flocked to
Rome. Although it was but ten years since the last Jubilee was celebrated,
still to many pious minds the original intention of granting these indulgences
at intervals of a hundred years gave a solemnity to this Jubilee which had been
possessed by none since the first institution in 1300. From France especially
pilgrims are said to have come in crowds. But the results of their crowding
into Rome were disastrous. The plague broke out among them and spread rapidly
throughout Italy. In Florence alone from 600 to 800 died daily; in Naples the
loss was computed at 1600. It is said that in some places two-thirds of the
population was destroyed. But, though Rome was stricken by the plague, Boniface
did not dare to leave it, lest he should lose his hold upon the city which he
had won with such difficulty.
The resistance was indeed stubborn, and needed a
strong hand prompt to repress. The powerful house of the Colonna of Palestrina
saw with resentment the danger which overtook their relative, the Count of
Fondi. Their hereditary antagonism to the political power of the Papacy made
them join the side of the anti-pope in the Schism, and they looked with alarm
at the spread of the papal authority in Rome. They allied themselves with the
discontented republicans in Rome : and on dark night in January, Niccolò and
Giovanni Colonna, with a troop of 4000 horse and 4000 foot, dashed through le
Porta del Popolo and made for the Capitol, raising their, “Long live the people
: death to the tyrant Boniface!” The Pope in alarm took refuge in the Castle of
S. Angelo, but the senator, Zaccaria Trevisano, a Venetian, manfully defended
the Capitol, and the Roman conspirators shrank back when they found that the
mass of the people refused rise at the Colonna cry. When morning dawned, the
Colonna found it wise to retire: thirty-one were made prisoners in the retreat,
and were promptly hanged. As the public executioner could not be found, one of
the captives was promised his life on condition that he would put the others to
death; with face streaming with tears, he hanged his comrades, amongst whom
were his own father and brother. Boniface IX showed his gratitude to the
senator by the grant of a yearly pension of 500 florins of gold.
In May, after the death of the Count of Fondi, he
judged himself strong enough to proceed against the Colonna. Their possessions
were laid under an interdict, themselves were excommunicated, and a holy war
was proclaimed against them. The Papal forces were reinforced by Ladislas, and
several of the Colonna castles were captured; but Palestrina defied the Papal
arms, till in January, 1401, the Colonna found it wise to come to terms.
Boniface IX had learned from the example of his predecessor Boniface VIII the
unwisdom of driving this powerful family to extremities. On receiving their
submission, he confirmed them in their possessions; even Jacobello Gaetani, the
son of Count Onorato of Fondi, was allowed to retain some part of his father’s
lands. Boniface was sufficiently prudent not to raise up implacable enemies by
advancing lofty pretensions which he could not maintain. On November 18 in the
same year Viterbo also, worn out by internal discords, acknowledged the Papal
sway. Thus Boniface by his persistent skill established his rule over Rome, and
reduced to submission the enemies around him.
AFFAIRS IN GERMANY, 1396-1400
In Germany also his policy met with triumph. King
Wenzel had so far agreed with the policy of Charles VI of France that he
promised to compel Boniface to abdicate if Charles was successful in his
endeavor to force Benedict to this step. But Wenzel’s position in Germany did
not allow him to do anything decided, even if he had the will. His father,
Charles IV, had transferred to the eastern provinces the supremacy over
Germany; and he had cautiously maintained his position by a close union with
the Bohemian people. Wenzel had to face the natural jealousy of the purely
Germanic states at the Slavonic policy of the house of Luxemburg; and he had
not his father’s wisdom in dealing with Bohemia. Profligate and drunken, with
all a drunkard’s capriciousness and savagery, he set the clergy against him by
his open mockery of their weaknesses, and made himself many enemies amongst the
Bohemian barons. Germany, neglected by the King, was in a state of anarchy, and
the prevailing discontent found expression in plots against Wenzel. The
Pfalzgraf Rupert was the natural leader of opposition, and found a strong
supporter in John, Archbishop of Mainz, a count of the house of Nassau, who, in
spite of another election by the chapter and the opposition of Wenzel, managed
in 1396 to obtain his archbishopric by the payment of large sums of money to
Boniface IX. The Archbishops of Trier and Koln followed John of Mainz, and the
league of the Rhenish electors sought the help of Boniface to support them in
the deposition of Wenzel. Boniface was dissatisfied with Wenzel’s attitude
towards him since his conference with Charles VI.at Rheims in 1398. Before
Wenzel went to Rheims, Rupert wrote him a long letter of remonstrance, in which
he warned him that, if he withdrew from obedience to the Pope, who had
confirmed him as King of the Romans, it was possible that the electors might
withdraw their allegiance from himself. Still Boniface was too cautious to
declare himself openly on the side of the discontented electors. So late as
August 26, 1400, he wrote to Wenzel assuring him that he was prepared to uphold
his cause even to the point of shedding his own blood. Yet two years later he
took credit to himself that it was his support and authority that emboldened
the electors to proceed to Wenzel’s deposition. The attitude of Boniface
towards Germany was astute rather than straightforward; he was prepared to be
on the winning side, whichever that might be.
At length, in 1400, the plans of the Rhenish electors
were ripe. Wenzel was involved in troubles in Bohemia, and his brother
Sigismund was equally busy with his kingdom of Hungary. The four Rhenish
electors met at Lahnstein on August 11, and decreed the deposition of Wenzel.
It was a bare majority of the Electoral College that proceeded to carry matters
with so high a hand; the electors of Saxony and Brandenburg stood aloof. On
August 20, the decree of deposition was read by John of Mainz to the assembled
people. It set forth that Wenzel had not striven to end the Schism and promote
the unity of the Church; that he had not established peace and order in
Germany; and that he had diminished the rights of the Empire in Italy.
The first two charges against Wenzel demanded of him
tasks which were beyond his power: but on the third head of accusation there
was a strong case against him. Since the accession of Giovanni Galeazzo
Visconti to the lordship of Milan, in 1378, the peace of Northern Italy had
been disturbed by his struggles for self-aggrandizement. He added to his
dominions Verona, Vicenza, Padua, and Siena, and pressed hard upon Florence,
which was the bulwark of the remaining liberties of Italian cities. But
Giovanni Galeazzo was not content with possession; he wished also for a
semblance of legitimacy to his conquests. At first he called himself Count of
Vertus, from the small French county which he inherited from his wife Isabella,
daughter of John of France; but in 1395 he bought from the needy Wenzel, for
100,000 gulden, the title of Duke of Milan, and agreed to hold his lands as
fiefs of the Empire. In 1397 Wenzel conferred on him the further title of Duke
of Lombardy, and the right of bearing in his arms the Imperial eagle. Wenzel
made this new creation without consulting the princes of the Empire, who were
indignant at this addition to their number. He also sold for money a title over
cities which had been forcibly seized, and so used the Imperial mantle as a
cloak to deeds of violence and oppression. His recognition of Giovanni Galeazzo
awakened the alarm of the Florentines, who lent their powerful aid to help the electors
and bring about Wenzel’s fall.
Such were the formal grounds for Wenzel’s deposition.
The real grounds were the private grievances of the electors, and the fact that
the vices, incompetence, and indolence of Wenzel had so weakened his hold upon
Germany that it was safe to act against him. On the day following the
declaration of Wenzel’s deposition the electors chose the Pfalzgraf Rupert to
be King of the Romans. Rupert possessed all the qualities of a ruler. He was
surnamed “the mild” from his gentleness, and was just, upright, devout and
learned, so that in all points he was a contrast to the luckless Wenzel. Still
he was not recognized at first by any but the states along the Rhine; and
Boniface IX, afraid of alienating Bohemia, Hungary, and Poland, refused to
commit himself to his cause. Wenzel, however, failed to receive even his
brother’s support; for Sigismund was too cautious to help him without
securities which Wenzel declined to give. Dissension broke out between the two
brothers. Wenzel did not move and his adherents fell away. Disturbances arose
in Hungary, and Sigismund was imprisoned by his rebellious subjects. Rupert on
his side had small resources at his command, and despaired of making much way
in Germany by force of arms, but judged the opportunity favorable for an
expedition into Italy, by which he might overcome the hesitation of the Pope,
vindicate the rights of the Empire over Milan, and return with the prestige of
the Papal approbation and the dignity of the Imperial crown. He accordingly
negotiated with Boniface for his coronation, which Boniface agreed to perform
on condition that Rupert undertook to make no treaty with the King of France,
to take no part in measures for ending the Schism without the Pope’s consent,
and to do his utmost to reconcile France and other schismatic countries with
himself as the one true Pope. Boniface IX was resolved to drive a hard bargain,
and Rupert’s troubles would be great before he accepted it.
The Florentines hailed Rupert’s coming as a means of
striking a blow against the alarming power of the Duke of Milan, and promised
money and supplies. But Rupert’s Italian expedition was even more inglorious
than those of his predecessors. He marched from Trent against Brescia (October
24, 1401), where his army was attacked by Gian Galeazzo’s condottiere general,
Facino Cane. The Duke of Austria was taken prisoner and released in three days
without ransom; stories of treachery were spread, and the Duke of Austria
angrily withdrew. Rupert’s army began to diminish, and he found that supplies
did not flow in as he had hoped from the Pope or the Florentines. Without these
he was helpless: and after a few ceremonial receptions at Padua and Venice, he
retired ingloriously to Germany in April, 1402.
No sooner had Rupert departed from Italy than Gian
Galeazzo Visconti prepared for new aggressions. His troops, under Alberigo da
Barbiano, marched upon Bologna, inflicted a severe defeat upon the Florentines,
and took the city. Florence was reduced to the lowest ebb. She saw herself
surrounded by the arms of the Duke of Milan, her supplies threatened, and her
trade ruined. But, in September, 1402, Gian Galeazzo died suddenly of the
plague, and Italy began to breathe anew. Gian Galeazzo Visconti was a man of
great force and determination, who had gone far to establish his power as
supreme over North Italy; but his conquests were made by force, and rested on
force only. He was skillful in making acquisitions, but he had neither the
talents nor the time to weld them together into a state. His rapid advance
spread universal terror; but his power died away with the strong hand that
created it. The most lasting impress that he left in Italy are the two mighty
monuments of the Cathedral of Milan and the Certosa at Pavia. In
their luxuriant magnificence and wild splendor we can still trace the
restless ambition and undisciplined desires of the passionate spirit of him who
designed them as memorials of his glory.
On the death of Gian Galeazzo his dominions were
divided amongst his three young sons, who were helpless to protect them. The
Florentines and the Pope entered into an alliance. Alberigo da Barbiano left
the side of the Visconti and took service under the Florentines. Boniface sent
as his legate Cardinal Baldassare Cossa, who knew how to promote his master’s
interests. There were commotions in all the cities under the rule of the
Visconti; and when the joint army of the Pope and the Florentines entered the
Bolognese territory, in June, 1403, it was a signal for universal revolt. The
Visconti thought it wise to detach the Pope from the Florentines, and entered
into a secret treaty with the legate, giving up to the Pope Bologna, Perugia,
Assisi, and other towns which had been taken from the States of the Church. On
August 25 this treaty was published, to the mortification of the Florentines,
who found that no mention was made of their interests, and that they were
abandoned by their ally. On September 2, Cardinal Cossa entered Bologna. In
October, Perugia opened its gates to the Pope’s brother, Gianello Tomacelli. It
was in vain that the Florentines sent ambassadors to the Pope to beseech him
not to ratify the treaty made by his legate, and not to abandon the league disgracefully.
Boniface eluded their remonstrances by delays, and confirmed the treaty. He had
reason to be satisfied with the success that attended his efforts to restore
the Papal sovereignty over the States of the Church.
As regards German affairs, the death of Gian Galeazzo
was of some moment. Rupert returned from his Italian expedition with ruined
prestige: and Wenzel’s cause rose in proportion. It was now Wenzel’s turn to
plan an expedition to Rome, that he might obtain the glory of the Imperial
crown. But troubles arose in Bohemia, and Wenzel was entirely dependent on the
help of his brother Sigismund, who so managed matters as to get Wenzel entirely
into his own hands. He kept him prisoner, and intended to use him as a tool.
Wenzel’s health was broken by debauchery, his life was uncertain, and he had no
children; at his death Sigismund would inherit Bohemia, and thought it well to
begin in good time to arrange its affairs. He therefore proposed to take Wenzel
to Rome, and have him crowned Emperor by the help of the Duke of Milan, who was
not sorry to have an opportunity of using his power under the guise of the
Emperor’s orders. This dangerous threat to Rupert and the Pope was dispelled by
Gian Galeazzo’s death; but it set Boniface IX to discover a means of keeping
Sigismund employed at home.
Sigismund’s position in his Hungarian kingdom had
always been a difficult one. He held his title by virtue of his marriage with
the Queen Maria, and, after the murder of Charles of Naples, had been crowned
king in 1387. But he quarreled with his wife, offended the Hungarian people,
and suffered a crushing defeat in an expedition against the Turks at Nicopolis,
in 1396. On his inglorious return there were disturbance in Hungary, and
Sigismund was imprisoned by his rebellious subjects, who turned their eyes to
the old house of Durazzo for a leader, and called Ladislas to assert his
father’s claims on Hungary. At that time Ladislas had enough to do in Naples to
make head against Louis of Anjou; Sigismund was freed from prison, and there
was a temporary peace. But when Sigismund began to threaten an expedition into
Italy for the crowning of his puppet Wenzel, it was easy for Boniface to find
him work at home, now that the hands of Ladislas were free. Early in 1402, when
Sigismund first began to talk of his expedition, Ladislas sent five galleys to
Dalmatia and the rebels in Hungary again began to raise their heads. At the end
of May, Boniface in a secret consistory declared Ladislas king of Hungary, and
on June appointed Cardinal Angelo Acciaiuoli Papal legate in the Hungarian
kingdom. In July Ladislas landed at Zara, and on August 5 was crowned king of
Hungary in the presence of the Papal legate. Sigismund retaliated on the Pope
with vigor; he forbade both in Bohemia and Hungary the payment of any money to
the Papal treasury; he prohibited the publication of any Bulls, Papal letters,
or ordinances, and threatened imprisonment to anyone who corresponded with the
Roman Court. Boniface retaliated by a formal decree of deposition against
Wenzel, in which he asserted that the proceedings of the electors had been
taken with his sanction, and confirmed the election of Rupert, without
requiring the conditions which he had previously attempted to exact. He judged
it prudent to secure Rupert’s allegiance, lest he should make common cause with
France and England, and join them in withdrawing from obedience to both Popes
alike. When Ladislas advanced into Hungary, he received a severe defeat near
Raab, and was driven back into Dalmatia. The fate of his father Charles seemed
to him an evil omen; he felt that his Hungarian partisans could not be trusted;
and he wisely decided that a secure kingdom in Naples was better than the
uncertainties of a tedious war waged for a precarious throne in Hungary.
Sigismund showed his wisdom by offering amnesty to the rebels. Ladislas saw
that his chance was gone, and at the end of October returned to Naples. The
Pope’s schemes upon Hungary had failed disastrously, as Sigismund held to
his edict, forbidding Papal intervention in his kingdom, and thenceforth
disposed of ecclesiastical offices at his pleasure.
As regards the Schism, Boniface IX’s position was too
purely that of an Italian prince for him to make any real head against his
rival. In France it was found that no good results had followed from the
withdrawal of allegiance from Benedict. The French clergy groaned under the
taxation of the royal officers. They discovered that the liberties of their
Church were more respected by the Pope than they were by the King, who, on the
ground that his efforts to end the Schism involved him in great expense,
demanded large grants of clerical revenues. Even the University of Paris saw
its privileges set aside, as the bishops, to whom passed the collation of
benefices hitherto reserved by the Pope, paid little heed to the claims of
learned theologians, and conferred preferment on officials who were useful to
themselves. It was natural that a reaction should set in, and the state of
parties at the French Court gave it a leader. In the madness of Charles VI
France became the prey of contending factions, headed by the King’s brother,
the Duke of Orleans, and the King’s uncle, the Duke of Burgundy;— Orleans
represented the side of aristocratic culture against the feudal chivalry which
gathered round Burgundy. It was natural that Orleans should find his strength
in the South of France, and Burgundy in the North: that Orleans should advocate
the restoration of Benedict, and that Burgundy should maintain the existing
attitude of affairs. The Duke of Orleans openly threatened, in the King’s
presence, to take up arms in behalf of Benedict, who was consequently more
closely watched in his captivity at Avignon. The ambassadors of Aragon urged
the release of Benedict. The University of Toulouse, moved by jealousy of the
University of Paris, addressed to the King a long letter controverting the
grounds on which the University of Paris had advocated the withdrawal of
allegiance. Louis of Anjou, on his return from his unsuccessful attempt on
Naples, determined to support the Pope on whose sanction his claims on Naples
were founded. He visited Benedict at Avignon on August 31, 1402, and restored
obedience to him within his county of Provence, on the ground that he had never
given his consent to the withdrawal, which had been proved to be useless in
restoring the unity of the Church, and was founded neither on human nor divine
law. Opinion was so divided in France that the King’s counselors thought it
wise to summon the nobles and prelates of the realm to a Council, to be
held in Paris on May 15, 1403.
But before this assembly could meet, Benedict XIII and
the Duke of Orleans had settled matters for themselves. The nobles round
Avignon all belonged to the party of Orleans, and were ready to help the Pope,
who secretly gathered together a body of four hundred men-at-arms who awaited
him outside the city; he himself only awaited a favorable moment to evade the
vigilance of the Cardinals and the citizens of Avignon. A Norman baron, Robert
de Braquemond, who was in the service of the Duke of Orleans, devised means for
his escape. On the evening of March 12, Benedict, in disguise, accompanied by
three attendants, managed to pass the guards and quit the palace. He took
nothing with him save a pyx containing the Host, and an autograph letter of the
French King, in which he promised to the Pope filial obedience. Once free from
prison, Benedict found himself in the midst of adherents. He took refuge in a
house in Avignon where a company of French gentlemen awaited him. They kissed
his feet, and paid him again the honors of which for five years he had been
deprived. A band of troops were waiting outside the gates, and Benedict was
hurried away under their care to Chateau Renard, a few miles from Avignon. There
he could feel secure, and laid aside the outward sign of his humiliation — his
beard, which had grown long, as he had made an oath never to shave it while he
was a prisoner. He could afford to laugh good-humoredly at those who had shown
him the greatest insolence; he asked the barber what county he came from, and
on hearing that he was a Picard, he merrily exclaimed, “Then I have proved the
Normans liars, for they declared that they would shave my beard for me”.
At Chateau Renard, Benedict could rely on the
protection of Louis of Anjou, and he knew what he had to expect from the Duke
of Orleans. In Avignon all was terror when the Pope’s flight was discovered.
The burghers at once saw their powerlessness, and offered no opposition to the
departure of the Pope’s attendants and of the Cardinals who had remained
faithful to him. The Cardinals who had been opposed to him sought all means to
be restored to his favor; the nobles who had been against him vied in
declarations of the necessity of restoring obedience. Benedict addressed a
letter to the King, his counselors, and the University, setting forth that he
had been willing for some years to endure privations for the good of the
Church, but finding that they were useless, he had left Avignon and gone to Chateau
Renard, that he might labor more usefully to restore the union of the Church.
To the repentant Cardinals he showed himself merciful. On April 29 they
presented themselves before him, and on their knees, with sobs, begged his
forgiveness, and swore to be faithful for the future. Benedict was not
revengeful; his determined temper was united with buoyancy, and a keen sense of
humor. He assured them of his forgiveness and invited them to dinner. When
they were seated, they saw with terror that the other places were occupied by
men in arms. Trembling, they expected punishment, but were grimly assured that
these were the Pope’s body-guard, who never left his side even when he said
mass. It was a significant hint that Benedict henceforth was determined to protect
himself even against those who ought naturally to be his supporters. Nor were
the Cardinals the only ones who were alarmed at the Pope’s military bearing.
The citizens of Avignon, in terror, besought his pardon, which was accorded on
condition that they repaired the walls of the Papal palace, which had been
overthrown during the siege. Long time they labored at this ungrateful task.
But Benedict refused again to take up his abode at Avignon; he garrisoned it
with Aragonese soldiers, and provisioned it to withstand a lengthy siege. The
men of Avignon were left to the tender mercies of the Pope’s mercenaries.
On May 25 two of the repentant Cardinals appeared
before Charles VI to plead for a restoration of obedience to Benedict. The
Universities of Orleans, Angers, Montpellier, and Toulouse all supported them.
There were great differences of opinion, and the discussions might have gone on
interminably if the Duke of Orleans had not hastened to bring the matter to a
conclusion. He ordered the metropolitans to enquire secretly the opinions of
their suffragans; when he found that a majority was in favor of renewing
obedience, he presented himself, on May 28, before the King, whom he found in
his oratory, and laid before him the result of his canvass. It was one of the
lucid intervals of the unhappy Charles. Moved by the representations of
Orleans, and by his own respect for the Pope’s character and learning, he gave
his adhesion to the plan of renewing obedience. The Duke took the crucifix from
the altar and prayed the King to confirm his words by an oath. Laying his
trembling hands upon the crucifix, the King declared, “I restore full obedience
to our lord Pope Benedict, declaring, by the holy cross of Christ, that I will
maintain so long as I live inviolate obedience to him, as the true Vicar of
Jesus Christ on earth, and I will cause obedience to him to be restored in all
parts of my kingdom”. Then kneeling at the altar with clasped hands, the King
chanted the “Te Deum”, in which those present joined with tears of joy. The
churches in Paris re-echoed the “Te Deum”, and their bells rang joyous peals
for the restoration of their Pope.
The Dukes of Berri and Burgundy were at first
indignant, as was the University of Paris. After a time they gave way, and
professed to hope that the lesson which Benedict had received might make him
more eager to bring about the union of the Church than he had been before. On
May 29 a solemn service of thanksgiving was held in Notre Dame, at which the
Bishop of Cambrai preached, and read an undertaking made by the Duke of
Orleans, in behalf of Benedict, that he would forgive all that had passed, and
would recognize all ecclesiastical appointments made during the withdrawal of
obedience; that he was still ready to resign if his rival should resign or die;
that he would summon a General Council to discuss measures for the reform of
the Church. No promises could be fairer. The reforming party rejoiced to think
that they would get more, after all, from the Pope than they could hope
to gain by rebellion against him.
But all hopes founded on Benedict’s moderation were
soon dashed to the ground. He received most graciously the two royal
ambassadors who were sent to announce to him the restoration of obedience. But
immediately after giving them audience he sent a commission of Cardinals to
call to account one of them, the Abbot of St. Denys, who had been appointed
during the period of withdrawal of obedience. His election was declared null:
an enquiry was made into his life and character; and he was then formally
reappointed to his office. Benedict fell back upon the full rights of the
Papacy. He was willing to overlook the rebellion against his authority, but he
could not recognize as valid what had been done during his imprisonment. The
rights of the Papacy stood in antagonism to the honor of the French monarchy.
The French King had taken an untenable position, from which he was driven to
withdraw. Benedict did not wish to put any needless difficulties in the way,
nor to make any demand for humiliating submission; but he could not be expected
to admit the principle that a king might withdraw at pleasure from obedience to
the Head of the Church, might arrange at his will matters ecclesiastical in his
own dominions, and might then demand the ratification of his measures as a
reward for the restitution of obedience. On the other hand, the proceedings of
the French King had been taken in a period of emergency to remedy a pressing
evil. It was sufficiently humiliating that they had failed in their end; it was
too much to expect that they should also be admitted to have been illegal in
their means. Benedict saw the difficulty and acted wisely. He asserted his own
rights quietly in individual cases without putting forward any principles which
might offend the feeling of the French nation. Yet his attitude made any good
understanding between himself and the Court impossible. It was to no purpose
that, in October, the Duke of Orleans paid a visit to Benedict, who owed him so
much, and tried to bend his stubbornness. Benedict was grateful and polite, but
would not confirm the promises which the Duke had made in his name. The King
met the difficulty by an edict (December 19), which declared that all
ecclesiastical appointments made during the withdrawal of obedience were
valid; and that no payments should be made to the Pope of any moneys which he
might claim as due to him during that period. Benedict on his part gave way a
little, and the Duke of Orleans was able to take back to Paris a few delusive
Bulls which announced forgiveness of all wrongs during the withdrawal of
obedience, announced also a General Council, and promised that, through
paternal care for the honor of France, no mention of the withdrawal should
there be made. Another Bull declared Benedict’s intention to labor in all ways
to bring about the union of the Church. Benedict found it necessary to make
some show of taking steps towards restoring unity.
He secretly negotiated with Boniface that he should
receive his envoys, and in June, 1404, obtained a safe-conduct for them,
through the mediation of the Florentines. The Bishops of S. Pons and Ilerda
appeared, on September 22, before Boniface IX and his Cardinals. They brought
from Benedict proposals for a conference between the two Popes in some neutral
place to be agreed upon between them, and suggested the appointment of a
committee to be chosen equally from both sides, who should report upon the
questions in dispute. It was the old proposal of Benedict to the French King,
and was clearly useless and delusive. Boniface was suffering agonies from the
disease of which he died — the stone. He sternly answered the proposals of the
ambassadors in the negative. “I am Pope”, he proudly said, “and Peter de Luna
is antipope”. “At least”, answered the envoys, “our master is not simoniacal”.
Boniface angrily bade them leave the city at once. It was his last effort: he
returned to his bed and died in the tortures of his terrible disease on
October 1.
Boniface IX was a skillful ruler, who knew how to use
for his own interest the fluctuations of Italian politics. Among the Italian
princes of his time he would deservedly hold a high position for wisdom in
gathering his states together, and skill in repressing their disorders. He made
good his hold upon Rome, destroyed its old municipal liberties, and established
himself in a security which his predecessors had never gained. Rome found in
him a stern and powerful ruler, and the unruly city quailed before a master. He
brought together again the States of the Church, and established the Papacy as
a territorial power in Italy. Tall, stalwart, and handsome, with kindly and
courteous manner, he was well fitted to be a ruler of men. Yet he was destitute
of any elevation of mind, either on the side of religion or of culture. His ends
were purely temporal, and he had no care for the higher interests of the
Church. The Schism seems to have affected him in no way save as a diminution of
his revenues. To gain the sovereignty which he aimed at, he saw that money was
above all things necessary, and no sense of reverence prevented him from
gaining money in every possible way. His shameless simony filled with horror
contemporaries who were by no means scrupulous; and his greed was strong
even in death. When asked, in his last hours, how he was, he answered, “If I
had more money, I should be well enough”. “Even amid the intolerable agonies of
the stone”, says Gobelin, “he did not cease to thirst after gold”. At all
periods of his life his spirits rose on receiving money, for he was eminently a
man of business, and took a practical view of his position and its immediate
needs. Even when mass was being celebrated in his presence, he could not
disengage his mind from worldly affairs, but would beckon cardinals to him or
send for his secretaries to give them instructions which flashed through his
mind. He was entirely engrossed in secular matters, and managed the Church as
though it were merely a temporal lordship. Yet his worst enemies could bring no
worse charge against him he was free from private vices, and was respected
as much as he was feared. In another age the statesmanlike qualities of Piero
Tomacelli would have deserved admiration; as it was, his rapacity and extortion
warned the growing party in favor of reform of the dangers to which the
ecclesiastical system was exposed from the absolute monarchy of the Pope.
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