BOOK I RETROSPECTIVE VIEW OF THE HISTORY OF THE POPES FROM THE BEGINNING OF THE EXILE AT AVIGNON TOTHE ENDF OF THE GREAT SCHISM, 1305-1417.

CHAPTER I.

THE POPES AT AVIGNON.

1305-1376

The disastrous struggle between the highest powers of Christendom, which began in the eleventh century and reached its climax in the thirteenth, was decided, apparently to the advantage of the Papacy, by the tragical downfall of the house of Hohenstaufen. But the overthrow of the Empire also shook the temporal position of the Popes, who were now more and more compelled to ally themselves closely with France. In the warfare with the Emperors, the Papacy had already sought protection and had found refuge in that kingdom in critical times. The sojourn of the Popes in France had, however, been only transitory. The most sacred traditions, and a history going back for more than a thousand years, seemed to have bound the highest ecclesiastical dignity so closely to Italy and to Rome that, in the eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth centuries, the idea that a Pope could be crowned anywhere but in the Eternal City, or could fix his residence for the whole duration of his Pontificate out of Italy, would have been looked upon as an impossibility.

A change came over this state of things in the time of Clement V (1305-1314), a native of Gascony. Fearing for the independence of the Ecclesiastical power amid the party struggles by which Italy was torn, and yielding to the influence of Philip the Fair, the strong-handed oppressor of Boniface VIII, he remained in France and never set foot in Rome. His successor, John XXII, also a Gascon, was elected, after prolonged and stormy discussions, in 1316, when the Holy See had been for two years vacant. He took up his permanent abode at Avignon, where he was only separated by the Rhone from the territory of the French King. Clement V had lived as a guest in the Dominican Monastery at Avignon, but John XXII set up a magnificent establishment there. The essential character of that new epoch in the history of the Papacy, which begins with Clement V and John XXII, consists in the lasting separation from the traditional home of the Holy See and from the Italian soil, which brought the Popes into such pernicious dependence on France and seriously endangered the universal nature of their position.

                                 O good beginning!

         To what a vile conclusion must Thou stoop.

The words of the great Italian poet are not exaggerated, for the Avignon Popes, without exception, were all more or less dependent on France. Frenchmen themselves, and surrounded by a College of Cardinals in which the French element predominated, they gave a French character to the government of the Church. This character was at variance with the principle of universality inherent in it and in the Papacy. The Church had always been the representative of this principle in contradistinction to that of isolated nationalities, and it was the high office of the Pope, as her Supreme Head, to be the common Father of all nations. This universality was in a great degree the secret of the power and influence of the Mediaeval Popes.

The migration to France, the creation of a preponderance of French Cardinals, and the consequent election of seven French Popes in succession, necessarily compromised the position of the Papacy in the eyes of the world, creating a suspicion that the highest spiritual power had become the tool of France. This suspicion, though in many cases unfounded, weakened the general confidence in the Head of the Church, and awakened in the other nations a feeling of antagonism to the ecclesiastical authority which had become French. The bonds which united the States of the Church to the Apostolic See were gradually loosened, and the arbitrary proceedings of the Court at Avignon, which was too often swayed by personal and family interests, accelerated the process of dissolution. The worst apprehensions for the future were entertained.

The dark points of the Avignon period have certainly been greatly exaggerated. The assertion that the Government of the Avignon Popes was wholly ruled by the “will and pleasure of the Kings of France”, is, in this general sense, unjust. The Popes of those days were not all so weak as Clement V, who submitted the draft of the Bull, by which he called on the Princes of Europe to imprison the Templars, to the French King. Moreover, even this Pope, the least independent of the fourteenth century Pontiffs, for many years offered a passive resistance to the wishes of France, and a writer, who has thoroughly studied the period, emphatically asserts that only for a few years of the Pontificate of Clement V was the idea so long associated with the "Babylonian Captivity" of the Popes fully realized. The extension of this epithet to the whole of the Avignon sojourn is an unfair exaggeration. The eager censors of the dependence into which the Avignon Popes sank, draw attention to the political action of the Holy See during this period so exclusively, that hardly any place is left for its labours in the cause of religion. A very partial picture is thus drawn, wherein the noble efforts of these much-abused Pontiffs for the conversion of heathen nations become almost imperceptible in the dim background. Their labours for the propagation of Christianity in India, China, Egypt, Nubia, Abyssinia, Barbary, and Morocco have been very imperfectly appreciated. The earliest of the Avignon Popes, Clement V and John XXII, gave the greatest attention to Eastern affairs, and were the originators of a series of grand creations, from which the best results were to be expected. Their successors were chiefly occupied in the maintenance and preservation of the works established by the wisdom of their predecessors, yet in the time of Clement VI an effort was made to extend the sphere of the Church even to the furthest limits of Eastern Asia. The unwearied assiduity of the Avignon Popes in taking advantage of every favourable event in the East, from the Crimea to China, to promote the spread of Christianity by sending out missions and founding Bishoprics, is all the more admirable because of the great difficulties with which the Papacy was at that time beset.

A complete estimate of their large-minded labours for the conversion of the heathen, and a thoroughly impartial appreciation of this period, will not be possible until the Regesta of these Popes, preserved in the Secret Archives of the Vatican, have been made accessible to investigation. We shall then obtain an insight into that inner life of Church affairs which held its clear and sure course amidst all external tumults; which, while the Papacy was apparently on the brink of ruin, did not forget the lonely Christians among the heathens of Morocco and in the camps of the wandering Tartars, and took thought for the eternal salvation of nations still unconverted, as faithfully as for the deliverance of the imperilled Church.

With the most ample recognition of the worldwide activity of the French Popes, it cannot be denied that the effects of the transfer of the Holy See from its natural and historical home were disastrous. Torn from its proper abode, the Papacy, notwithstanding the individual greatness of some of the Avignon Pontiffs, could not maintain its former dignity. The freedom and independence of the highest tribunal in Christendom, which, according to Innocent III, was bound to protect all rights, was endangered, now that the supreme direction of the Church was so much under the influence of a nation so deeply imbued with its own spirit, and possessing so little of the universal. That France should obtain exclusive possession of the highest spiritual authority was a thing contrary both to the office of the Papacy and the very being of the Church.

This dependence on the power of a Prince, who in former times had often been rebuked by Rome, was in strange contradiction with the supremacy claimed by the Popes. By this subjection and by its worldliness, the Avignon Papacy aroused an opposition which, though it might for a moment be overborne while it leant on the crumbling power of the Empire, yet moved men's minds so deeply that its effects were not effaced for several centuries. Its downfall is most closely connected with this opposition, which was manifested, not only in the bitter accusations of its political and clerical enemies, but even also in the letters of its devoted friend St. Catherine, which are full of entreaties, complaints, and denunciations. The Papal Government, founded as it was on the principle of authority, built up in independence of the Empire, and gaining strength in proportion to the decay of that power, was unable to offer any adequate resistance to this twofold stream of political and religious antagonism. The catastrophe of the great Schism was the immediate consequence of the false position now occupied by the Papacy.

The disastrous effects produced by the residence of the Popes at Avignon were at first chiefly felt in Italy. Hardly ever has a country fallen into such anarchy as did the Italian peninsula, when bereft of her principle of unity by the unfortunate decision of Clement V to fix his abode in France. Torn to pieces by irreconcilable parties, the land, which had been fitly termed the garden of Europe, was now a scene of desolation. It will easily be understood that all Italian hearts were filled with bitter longings, a regret which found voice in continual protests against the Gallicized Papacy. The author of the Divine Comedy sharply reproved the “Supreme Pastor of the West” for this alliance between the Papacy and the French monarchy. On the death of Clement V, when the Cardinals assembled in conclave at Carpentras, Dante came forward as the exponent of the public feeling which demanded the return of the Papal Throne to Rome. In a severe letter addressed to the Italian Cardinals he says: "You, the chiefs of the Church militant, have neglected to guide the chariot of the Bride of the Crucified One along the path so clearly marked out for her. Like that false charioteer Phaeton, you have left the right track, and though it was your office to lead the hosts safely through the wilderness, you have dragged them after you into the abyss. But one remedy now remains: you, who have been the authors of all this confusion, must go forth manfully with one heart and one soul into the fray in defence of the Bride of Christ whose seat is in Rome, of Italy, in short of the whole band of pilgrims on earth. This you must do, and then returning in triumph from the battle-field, on which the eyes of the world are fixed, you shall hear the song ‘Glory to God in the Highest’; and the disgrace of the covetous Gascons, striving to rob the Latins of their renown, shall serve as a warning to all future ages”.

Petrarch judges the French Popes with the greatest severity. In theory he condemns everyone, worthy or unworthy, who lived at Avignon. No expression is too strong when he speaks of this city, which he compares to the Babylon of the Apocalypse. In one of his poems he calls it "the fountain of anguish, the dwelling-place of wrath, the school of errors, the temple of heresy, once Rome, now the false guilt-laden Babylon, the forge of lies, the horrible prison, the hell upon earth". In a whole series of letters, which, however, he took care to keep to himself, he pours forth the vials of his wrath on the city, which had drawn the Popes away from sacred Rome. He even uses the peaceful sonnet, in which he had formerly been wont to express only the bliss and the pain of love, to fulminate, like a prophet of the Old Testament, against the doings of the unholy city. It would be, however, a great mistake to consider his picture of the wickedness of Avignon and the corruption of the Church, painted with true Italian fervour, as strictly trustworthy and accurate. Petrarch here speaks as a poet and as a fiery, enthusiastic, Roman patriot. His judgments are often intemperate and unjust. His own life was not such as to give him the right to come forward as a preacher of morals. Passing over his other failings, we need here only allude to his excessive greed for benefices. This passion has much to do with his bitterness against Avignon and the Papal Court. We are led to suspect that there were many unsuccessful suits. Petrarch did nothing towards the amendment of this evil world; the work of reformation was in his own case begun very late. He was a dreamer, who contented himself with theories, and in practice eschewed all improvements which demanded any greater effort than that of declamation.

The unmitigated condemnation of the Avignon Popes must have been based in great measure on Petrarch’s unjust representations, to which, in later times and without examination, an undue historical importance has been attached. He is often supposed to be a determined adversary of the Papacy; but this is a complete mistake. He never for a moment questioned its divine institution. We have already said that he was outwardly on the best terms with almost all the Popes of his time, and received from them many favours. They took his frequent and earnest exhortations to leave Avignon and return to desolate Rome as mere poetical rhapsodies, and in fact they were nothing more. If Petrarch himself, though a Roman citizen, kept aloof from Rome; if, though nominally an Italian patriot, he fixed his abode for many years, from motives of convenience, or in quest of preferment, in that very Avignon which he had bitterly reproached the Popes for choosing, and which he had called the most loathsome place in the world, must not the Babylonish poison have eaten deeply into his heart? How much easier it would have been for Petrarch to have returned to Rome than it was for the Popes, fettered as they were by so many political considerations!

But however much we may question Petrarch’s right to find fault with the moral delinquencies of the Court at Avignon; however much we may, in many respects, modify the picture he paints of it, no impartial inquirer can deny that it was pervaded by a deplorable worldliness. For this melancholy fact we have testimony more trustworthy than the rhetorical descriptions of the Italian poet. Yet it must in justice be borne in mind that the influx of thousands of strangers into the little French provincial town, so suddenly raised to the position of capital of the world, had produced all the evils which appertain to densely populated places. Moreover, even if we are to believe all the angry assertions of contemporaries as to the corruption prevailing in Avignon, evidence is not wanting, on the other hand, of ardent yearnings for a life conformable to the precepts of the Gospel.

Side by side with the profligacy which was the characteristic of the age, and, therefore, prominent in its history, there were still to be found scattered in various places many homes of quiet and devout contemplation. Thence went forth an influence, winning noble souls to a higher ideal of existence, and gently, but perseveringly, striving by means of self-denial and persuasion, to allay the passionate feuds of parties and disentangle their intrigues. As this higher life only manifested itself here and there, history passes it by; it is dealt with in commonplace phrases, judged, or rather misjudged, by the measure of the later movements of the sixteenth century, as if they formed a canon for the historical investigation of all religious phenomena. At no time were there wanting good and earnest men, who were doing their utmost in their own circle to stem the tide of corruption, and exerting a salutary influence on their age and surroundings. It would be most unjust to the champions of the Papal rights to suppose that, because they maintained the monarchy of the Pope and his right to both swords, they were ready to sanction that which was evil at Avignon, or condone tyrannous abuses. In the highest circles there were men of the ancient stamp with the strictest views of life. Alvaro Pelayo praised the Cardinal Legate Martin, who went to Denmark poor and returned poor, and the Legate Gaufridus who, when sent to Aquitaine, bought his own fish and would not accept even wooden platters. He wished Bishops and Popes not to have smart pages about them, and not to promote undeserving relations. He prayed that all simoniacal practices should be abolished, that the Roman Church should be a mother, not a sovereign, and that the Pope should consider himself not a lord, but a servant, a steward, a labourer. These men, who looked on Louis of Bavaria as a tyrant, were not on that account disposed to give the Pope a free pass. While energetically asserting his rights, and those of the Church and the Bishops, they also insisted on the accompanying duties with a plainness of speech, which we miss in later ages, together with the magnanimity shown by those who suffered it.

The removal of the Holy See to Avignon was most disastrous to the Eternal City, which thereby lost, not only her historic position as the Capital of Christendom, but also the material benefits which the presence of the Popes conferred on the community at large, and on many of the individual inhabitants. While the Popes resided in Rome and its neighbourhood, they were able, for longer or shorter periods, to maintain order and peace between Barons and Burghers. Their Court and the influx of strangers which it attracted, brought great wealth into the City, and when the Pontiff was in their midst, the Romans could easily attain to lucrative ecclesiastical positions. This state of things was now completely changed. Rome, thrown upon herself, was in her interior resources inferior to all the considerable cities of central Italy. She became a prey to increasing isolation and anarchy. The longer the absence of the Popes continued, the greater was the desolation. The Churches were so dilapidated and neglected that in St. Peter's and the Lateran cattle were grazing even to the foot of the altar. Many sacred edifices were roofless, and others almost in ruins. The monuments of heathen antiquity fared even worse than those of Christian Rome, and were mercilessly destroyed. A Legate sold the marble blocks of the Colosseum to be burned for lime. The materials of the ancient edifices were even carried out of the City. In the archives regarding the construction of the Cathedral of Orvieto are a number of documents, which show that the overseers of the work brought a great deal of the marble employed from Rome, that they sent agents there almost more frequently than to Carrara, and that they repeatedly received presents of great blocks of marble, especially from the families of the Orsini and Savelli. The only public work executed in Rome during the Avignon period was the construction of the marble steps leading up to the Church of St. Maria Ara Coeli. The remarkable development of art which had been going on during the latter half of the thirteenth century was suddenly arrested. The school of the Cosmati came to an end; the influence of Giotto had vanished. Avignon became in this respect a dangerous rival to the Eternal City, for even in their exile the Popes did not forget the fine arts. Death alone hindered Giotto from accepting the flattering invitation of Benedict XII, and in 1338-39 the Pope summoned in his stead the celebrated painter, Simone Martini of Siena, to adorn his Cathedral and his Palace; the interesting but long-neglected frescoes of this artist are now, alas! in a melancholy condition. The bereaved City fared almost as ill in regard to literature as to art. The consequences of this state of things, which then passed unperceived, made themselves felt at a later period. The triumph of the Renaissance in Rome would have been neither so rapid nor so complete, but for the state of barbarism into which the City had fallen when deprived of the Pope.

It is hard to form an adequate idea of the utter desolation and degradation of Rome at this time. The view on which Petrarch looked down from the Baths of Diocletian, with its hills crowned by solitary churches, its uncultivated fields, its masses of ancient and modern ruins, its scattered rows of houses, had nothing to distinguish it from the open country but the circuit of the old walls of Aurelian. The ruins of two epochs—heathen antiquity and the Christian middle ages—made up the Rome of those days.

It was no mere figure of speech when Cardinal Napoleone Orsini, after the death of Clement V (1314), assured the King of France that the transfer of the Papal residence to Avignon had brought Rome to the brink of ruin, or when at a later date (1347), Cola di Rienzo declared that the Eternal City was more like a den of robbers than the abode of civilized men.

Rome learnt by bitter experience that she was historically important only as the seat of the Papacy, and the Popes had also much to suffer on account of their separation from their natural prescriptive home. Parted from Italy, the States of the Church, and Rome, the very ground had been cut away from under their feet. In one respect in particular this very soon made itself felt.

The financial difficulties from which the Popes had suffered even in the thirteenth century became much more serious after they had taken up their abode on French soil. On the one hand, the income they had drawn from Italy failed; and on the other, the tributary powers became much more irregular in the fulfilment of their obligations, because they feared that the greater part of the subsidies they paid would fall into the hands of France. The Papal financiers adopted most questionable means of covering deficits. From the time of John XXII especially the hurtful system of Annates, Reservations, and Expectancies, came into play, and a multitude of abuses were its consequence. Alvaro Pelayo, the most devoted, perhaps even over-zealous, defender of the Papal power in the fourteenth century, justly considers the employment of a measure, liable to excite the cupidity of the clergy, as one of the wounds which then afflicted the Church. His testimony is all the more worthy of consideration, because, as an official of many years’ standing in the Court, he describes the state of things at Avignon from his own most intimate knowledge. In his celebrated book, On the Lamentation of the Church, he says: “Whenever I entered the chambers of the ecclesiastics of the Papal Court, I found brokers and clergy, engaged in weighing and reckoning the money which lay in heaps before them”.

This system of taxation and its consequent abuses soon aroused passionate resentment. Dante, “consumed with zeal for the House of God”, expressed, in burning words, his deep indignation against the cupidity and nepotism of the Popes, always, however, carefully distinguishing between Pope and Papacy, person and office. It was not long, however, before an opposition arose which made no such distinctions, and attacked not only the abuses which had crept in, but the Ecclesiastical authority itself. The Avignon system finance, which contributed more than has been generally supposed to the undermining of the Papal authority, greatly facilitated the attacks of this party.

From what has been said it will be clearly seen that the long-continued sojourn of the Popes in France, occasioned as it was by the confusion of Italian affairs, was an important turning-point in the history of the Papacy and of the Church. The course of development which had been going on for many centuries, was thereby almost abruptly interrupted, and a completely new state of things substituted for it. No one who has any idea of the nature and the necessity of historical continuity, can fail to perceive the danger of this transference of the centre of ecclesiastical unity to southern France. The Papal power and the general interests of the Church, which at that time required quiet progress and in many ways thorough reform, must inevitably in the long run be severely shaken.

To make matters worse, the conflict between the Empire and the Church now broke out with unexpected violence. The most prominent antagonists of the Papacy, both ecclesiastical and political, gathered around Louis of Bavaria, offering him their assistance against John XXII. At the head of the ecclesiastical opposition appeared the popular and influential order of the Friars Minor, who at this very moment were at daggers drawn with the Pope. The special occasion of this quarrel was a difference between them and him, regarding the meaning of evangelical poverty; and the great popularity of the Order made their hostility all the more formidable. The Minorites, who were irritated to the utmost against the Pope, succeeded in gaining great influence over Louis of Bavaria, an influence which is clearly traceable in the appeal published by him in 1324, at Sachenhausen, near Frankfort. In this remarkable document, amongst the many serious charges brought against John XXII, “who calls himself Pope”, is that of heresy, and it is asserted that he exalts himself against the evangelical doctrines of perfect poverty, and thus against Christ, the Blessed Virgin, and the company of the Apostles, who all approved it by their lives. After a passionate dogmatic exposition of the poverty of Christ and a shower of reproaches, comes the appeal to the Council, to a future legitimate Pope, to Holy Mother Church, to the Apostolic See, and to every one in general to whom an appeal could be made.

This document, in which political and religious questions were mingled together, was sedulously disseminated in Germany and Italy. It must have greatly embittered the whole contest. A religious conflict was now added to the political one. Louis, a simple soldier, was unable to measure its consequences and powerless to control its progress. It grew more and more passionate and violent. The Minorites no longer confined themselves to the province of theology, in which the conflict between them and the pope had at first arisen, but also took part in political question. Led on by their theological antagonism, they proceeded to build up a political system resting on theories which threatened to disturb all existing ideas of law, and to shake the position of the Papacy to its very foundations. The special importance of the action of the Minorites consists in the assertion and maintenance of these principles, which indeed did not at once come prominently forward, for the writings of the Englishman, William Occam, in which they are chiefly propounded, collectively date from a period subsequent to the Diet of Rhense. There can, however, be no doubt that the views which Occam afterwards expressed in his principal work, the "Dialogus", had already at an earlier period exercised great influence.

According to the theory of Occam, who was deeply imbued with the political ideas of the ancients, the Emperor has a right to depose the Pope should he fall into heresy. Both General Councils and Popes may err, Holy Scripture and the beliefs held by the Church at all times and in all places, can alone be taken as the unalterable rule of Faith and Morals. The Primacy and Hierarchical Institutions in general are not necessary or essential to the subsistence of the Church; and the forms of the ecclesiastical, as of the political, constitution ought to vary with the varying needs of the time.

With the Minorites two other men soon came to the front, who may be considered as the spokesmen of the definite political opposition to the Papacy. It was probably in the summer of the year 1326 that the Professors of the University of Paris, Marsiglio of Padua and Jean de Jandun, made their appearance at the Royal Court of Nuremberg. The “Defender of Peace” (Defensor Pacis), the celebrated joint work of these two most important literary antagonists of the Popes of their day, is of so remarkable a character that we must not omit to give a further account of its subversive propositions. This work, which is full of violent invectives against John XXII, “the great dragon and the old serpent”, asserts the unconditional sovereignty of the people. The legislative power which is exercised through their elected representatives, belongs to them, also the appointment of the executive through their delegates. The ruler is merely the instrument of the legislature. He is subject to the law, from which no individual is exempt. If the ruler exceeds his authority, the people are justified in depriving him of his power, and deposing him. The jurisdiction of the civil power extends even to the determination of the number of men to be employed in every trade or profession. Individual liberty has no more place in Marsiglio's state than it had in Sparta.

Still more radical, if possible, are the views regarding the doctrine and government of the Church put forth in this work. The sole foundation of faith and of the Church is Holy Scripture, which does not derive its authority from her, but, on the contrary, confers on her that which she possesses. The only true interpretation of Scripture is, not that of the Church, but that of the most intelligent people, so that the University of Paris may very well be superior to the Court of Rome. Questions concerning faith are to be decided, not by the Pope, but by a General Council.

This General Council is supreme over the whole Church, and is to be summoned by the State. It is to be composed not only of the clergy, but also of laymen elected by the people. As regards their office, air priests are equal; according to Divine right, no one of them is higher than another. The whole question of Church government is one of expediency, not of the faith necessary to salvation. The Primacy of the Pope is not founded on Scripture, nor on Divine right. His authority therefore can only, according to Marsiglio, be derived from a General Council and from the legislature of the State; and for the election of a Pope the authority of the Council requires confirmation from the State. The office of the Pope is, with the College appointed for him by the Council or by the State, to signify to the State authority the necessity of summoning a Council, to preside at the Council, to draw up its decisions, to impart them to the different Churches, and to provide for their execution. The Pope represents the executive power, while the legislative power in its widest extent appertains to the Council. But a far higher and more influential position belongs to the Emperor in Marsiglio’s Church; the convocation and direction of the Council is his affair; he can punish priests and bishops, and even the Pope. Ecclesiastics are subject to the temporal tribunals for transgressions of the law, the Pope himself is not exempt from penal justice, far less can he be permitted to judge his ecclesiastics, for this is the concern of the State. The property of the Church enjoys no immunity from taxation; the number of ecclesiastics in a country is to be limited by the pleasure of the State; the patronage of all benefices belongs to the State, and may be exercised either by Princes, or by the majority of the members of the parish to which an ecclesiastic is to be appointed. The parish has not only the right of election and appointment, but also the control of the official duties of the priest, and the ultimate power of dismissal. Exclusion from the Christian community, in so far as temporal and worldly interests are connected with it, requires its consent. Like Calvin, in later days, Marsiglio regards all the judicial and legislative power of the Church as inherent in the people, and delegated by them to the clergy. The community and the State are everything; the Church is put completely in the background; she has no legislature, no judicial power, and no property.

The goods of the Church belong to the individuals who have devoted them to ecclesiastical uses, and then to the State. The State is to decide regarding sale and purchase, and to consider whether these goods are sufficient to provide for the needs of the clergy and of the poor. The State has also power, should it be necessary for the public good, to deprive the Church of her superfluities and limit her to what is necessary, and the State has the right to effect this secularization, notwithstanding the opposition of the Priests. But never, Marsiglio teaches, is power over temporal goods to be conceded to the Roman Bishop, because experience has shown that he uses it in a manner dangerous to the public peace. Like Valla and Macchiavelli, in later times, Marsiglio assumes the air of an Italian patriot, whence attributes all the troubles of Italy to the Popes. This is a palpable sophistry, for that reproach was in no way applicable to Marsiglio's days. Italy was then under the sway of her most distinguished monarch, King Robert of Anjou, whom the Popes had protected to the best of their power, and Louis of Bavaria's expedition to Rome was certainly neither their wish nor their work. On the contrary, at a later period, Pope John XXII issued a Bull with the object of separating Italy from Germany, and thereby destroying the influence of the Ultramontanes, or non-Italians in Italy.

In face of these outrageous attacks and this blank denial of the Divine institution of the Primacy and the Hierarchy, there were never wanting brave champions of the Apostolic See and of the doctrine of the Church. Most of them, unfortunately, were led by excess of zeal to formulate absurd and preposterous propositions. Agostino Trionfo, an Italian, and Alvaro Pelayo, a Spaniard, have, in this matter, gained a melancholy renown. As one extreme leads to another, in their, opposition, to the Caesaro-papacy of Marsiglio, they exalted the Pope into a kind of demi-god, with absolute authority over the whole world. Evidently, exaggerations of this kind were not calculated to counteract the attacks of political scepticism in regard to the authority of the Holy See.

The theory put forward in the Defensor Pacis, regarding the omnipotence of the State and the consequent annihilation of all individual and ecclesiastical liberty, far surpassed all preceding attacks on the position and constitution of the Church in audacity, novelty and acrimony.

Practically this doctrine, which was copied from the ancients, meant the overthrow of all existing institutions and the separation of Church and State. Many passages of the work go far beyond the subsequent utterances of Wyclif and Huss, or even those of Luther and Calvin, whose forerunner Marsiglio may be considered. The great French Revolution was a partial realization of his schemes, and, in these days, a powerful party is working for the accomplishment of the rest. Huss has been styled “the Precursor” of the Revolution, but the author of the Defensor Pacis might yet more justly claim the title.

Louis Ravaria accepted the dedication of the book which brought these doctrines before the world and promulgated political principles of so questionable a character, but a still greater triumph was in store for Marsiglio. In union with the anti-papal Minorites and the Italian Ghibelines he succeeded in inducing Louis to go to Rome and to engage in the Revolutionary proceedings of the year 1328. The collation of the Imperial Crown by the Roman people, their deposition of the Pope and election of an anti-Pope in the person of the Minorite, Pietro da Corvara, were the practical results of the teaching of the Defensor Pacis.

Some of the Emperors of the House of Hohenstaufen had been men of stronger characters than Louis was, yet none had ever gone to such extremes. He appealed to doctrines whose application to ecclesiastical matters was equivalent to revolution, and whose re-action on the sphere of politics after their triumph over the Church would have been rapid and incalculable. For a century and a half the Church had been free from schism; by his action he let loose this terrible evil upon her. His culpable rashness gave a revolutionary and democratic turn to the struggle between the Empire and the Papacy. He repudiated all the canonical decisions regarding the Supremacy of the Pope which the Emperors of the House of Hapsburg had accepted, degraded the Empire to a mere Investiture from the Capitol, and despoiled the Crown of Charles the Great, in the eyes of all who believed in the ancient imperial hierarchy, of the last ray of its majesty. It is strange that under Louis the Roman Empire should actually have been thus desecrated and degraded, so soon after Dante's idealization had crowned it with a halo of glory.

It is impossible in the present retrospect to describe all the vicissitudes of Church and State during the struggle which was so disastrous to both. Envenomed by the dependence of the Popes on France, the exasperation on both sides was intense. Thy ecclesiastical power was implacable, lost to all sense of moderation, dignity, or charity. The secular power, cowardly but defiant, shrank from no extreme, sought the aid of the lowest demagogues, and by its vacillations frustrated each favourable chance that arose. The long and obstinate warfare, so little honourable to either party, could have no result save the equal humiliation of both and the complete ruin of social order in Church and State. John XXII, restless and active to the last, died at a great age on the 4th December, 1334.

His successor, Benedict XII (1334-1342), a man of austere morals, was unable, notwithstanding his gentle and pacific disposition, to compose the strife with Louis of Bavaria and the Friars. King Philip VI of France and the Cardinals in the French interest laboured to prevent peace between the Pope and Louis, and Benedict had not sufficient strength of will to carry out his purpose in face of their opposition.

John XXII, in his latter years, had thought of returning to Rome, and Pope Benedict XII wished to do so, but the Eternal City was at this time an arena of passionate discord and constant bloodshed. A Pope could not have remained there, even if the predominance of French influence and the irksome protection of the House of Anjou had allowed him to make the attempt. King Philip VI and the French Cardinals, who formed the large majority of the Sacred College, accordingly found no difficulty in detaining the Pope on the banks of the Rhone. In face of the hopeless and yearly increasing confusion in Italy, the wish to return to the Tombs of the Apostles gradually died away in his noble soul. In 1339 he began to build at Avignon a suitable dwelling-place, half palace and half fortress; it was enlarged by his successors and so gradually grew into the celebrated Palace of the Popes. This gigantic pile stands on the rock of the Doms, and with its huge, heavy square towers, its naked yellowish-brown colossal walls, five yards in thickness and broken irregularly by a few pointed windows, is one of the most imposing creations of mediaeval architecture. In its strange combination of castle and cloister, prison and palace, this temporary residence of the Popes reflects both the deterioration and the fate of the Papacy in France. It was the Popes’ prison, and at the same time their Baronial Castle, in that feudal epoch when the Heads of Christendom were vassals of the French Crown, and were not ashamed to bear the title of Counts of Venaissin and Avignon. The Palace of the Popes, in comparison with which the neighbouring Cathedral has an insignificant appearance, also manifests the decline of the ecclesiastical, and the predominance of the worldly, warlike, and princely element, which marked the Avignon period.

The labours of Benedict XII as a reformer in the best sense of the word, are worthy of the highest praise. In this respect he forms a striking contrast with his predecessor; he also most carefully avoided anything approaching to nepotism. “A Pope” he said, “should be like Melchisedech, without father, without mother, without genealogy". During his whole Pontificate he manifested the most earnest desire to do away with the abuses which had prevailed in the preceding reign, severely repressing bribery and corruption in all the branches of ecclesiastical administration. He sent the prelates who lingered about the Court back to their dioceses, and revoked all In Commendams and Expectancies, with the exception of those appertaining to the Cardinals and Patriarchs. He made the reform of the relaxed Religious Orders of men his special care, and, as one of his biographers observes, he caused the Church, which had become Agar, to be again Sara, and brought her out of bondage into freedom.

Benedict XII’s successor, Pierre Roger de Beaufort, was also a native of the South of France; he was born at the Castle of Maumont in the Diocese of Limoges, and, on his accession, took the name of Clement VI (1342-1352). Unlike the pacific Benedict, this strong-minded Pontiff proceeded to resume against Louis of Bavaria the traditions of John XXII, and with success. He skilfully turned the enmity of the Houses of Lützelburg and Wittelsbach to account against the Emperor. A deadly struggle between these two families was imminent, when Louis suddenly died. The triumph of the Papacy seemed assured, for Charles IV undertook to satisfy all the demands of the Papal Court, and even the portion of the German nation which had followed the Emperor in his opposition to the Popes, gradually reverted to its former path.

But the whole nature of the conflict between the two divinely appointed powers, and the new ideas which had come to light during its continuance, had worked a great change in the spirit of the age. The old Pagan idea of the State, so destructive of every other human or divine right, had been revived by Marsiglio and Occam, and its delusive sophistry had beguiled many. The disastrous struggle had shaken the allegiance of thousands to the authority of the Pope, many spiritual bonds which had hitherto attached them to the Church were loosened, the general feeling was no longer what it had formerly been, and, moreover, the corruption of morals during these years had made frightful progress.

The Pontificate of Clement VI was marked by the revolt of Cola di Rienzo, and the magic power attached to the name of the Eternal City was again manifested, but the fantastic extravagance of the Tribune, the instability of the Roman people, and, finally, the measures taken against it by the Pope, soon made an end of the new Republic and its head. The whole revolt seemed like some meteor that beams forth for a moment and is immediately lost in the darkness. Yet in some respects it was an important sign of the times. The programme of Italian unity under an Italian Emperor, put forth by the “Tragic Actor in the tattered purple of antiquity”, clearly showed the progress already achieved by the modern idea of nationality. The ruin of the great political unity of the Middle Ages brought forth the selfish spirit of modern times. This unchristian nationalism was first developed in France, the very nation into whose power the Head of the Church had fallen. Thence it spread to Italy, where it found an ally in the heathen Renaissance. This was only natural, for nationalism in its narrowest sense was the spirit of the ancient world. Sooner or later a conflict between the Church and this degenerate principle was inevitable, for the Universal Church cannot be national. According to the will of her Divine Founder, she must accommodate herself to every race: there must be One Fold and One Shepherd. At one and the same time the most stable and the most pliable of all institutions, the Church can be all things to all men, and can educate every nation without doing violence to her nature. She persecutes no tongue nor people, but she shows no special preferences. She is simply Catholic, that is, Universal. Were it possible for her to become the tool of any one nation, she would cease to be the Universal, Church, embracing the whole world.

Clement VI was in many respects a distinguished man. He was celebrated for immense theological knowledge, for a marvellous memory, and, above all, for rare eloquence. Some of his sermons, preached in the Papal Chapel before his elevation to the Pontificate, are preserved in manuscript in German Libraries. When Pope, he used to preach publicly on occasions of special importance to the Church, such, for example, as the appointment of Louis of Spain to be Prince and Lord of the Canary Islands (1344)

The gentleness and benevolence of this Pontiff were even more remarkable than his erudition and eloquence. He was ever the helper of the poor and needy, and the brave defender of the unfortunate and oppressed. When a sanguinary persecution broke out against the Jews, who were detested as the representatives of capital, and slain by thousands by the excited populace in France and Germany, the Pope alone espoused their cause. He felt that his exalted position imposed on him the duty of curbing the wild fanaticism of the turbulent masses. In July and September, 1348, he issued Bulls for the protection of the abhorred race. If in the frantic excitement of the time, these measures were almost fruitless, Clement VI at least did all that was in his power, by affording refuge to the homeless wanderers in his little State.

But notwithstanding the admirable qualities of this Pontiff, there is a dark side, which we must not conceal. Through the acquisition, by purchase, of Avignon and the creation of many French Cardinals, he made the Roman Church still more dependent on France. Her true interests suffered much from the manner in which he heaped riches and favours on his relations, and from the Luxury of his Court. Extravagance and good cheer were carried to a frightful pitch in Avignon during his reign. There was a certain magnanimity in the prodigality of Clement, who said that he was Pope only to promote the happiness of his subjects; but the treasure left by his two immediate predecessors was soon exhausted, and fresh resources were needed to enable him to continue his liberal mode of life. He was only able to procure these at the cost of the interests of the Church, for his financial measures were even more injurious than those of Clement V and John XXII. As in former times, so now, the frequent and excessive exercise of the undoubted right of the Popes to levy taxes led, in many countries, to violent resistance. Among the Teutonic nations especially, the discontent was extreme. England endeavoured to protect herself by strict legislative enactments, and her example was afterwards followed by Germany. Owing, however, to political distractions, the opposition was not unanimous, although the measures adopted were, in some cases, sufficiently stringent. In October, 1372, the monasteries and abbeys in Cologne entered into a compact to resist Pope Gregory XI in his proposed levy of a tithe on their revenues. The wording of their document manifests the depth of the feeling which prevailed in Germany against the Court of Avignon. “In consequence”, it says, “of the exactions with which the Papal Court burdens the clergy, the Apostolic See has fallen into such contempt, that the Catholic Faith in these parts seems to be seriously imperilled. The laity speak slightingly of the Church, because, departing from the custom of former days, she hardly ever sends forth preachers or reformers, but rather ostentatious men, cunning, selfish, and greedy. Things have come to such a pass, that few are Christians more than in name”. The example of Cologne was soon followed. Similar protests were issued in the same month by the Chapters of Bonn, Xanten, and Soest, and in the month of November by the ecclesiastics of Mayence. Such was the feeling in Western Germany towards the end of the Avignon period, and in Southern Germany the same sentiments prevailed. Duke Stephen the elder of Bavaria and his sons addressed a letter to the ecclesiastics of their country in 1367, informing them “that the Pope lays a heavy tax on the income of the clergy and has thus brought ruin on the monasteries; they are therefore strictly enjoined, under severe penalties, to pay no tax or tribute, for their country is a free country, and the princes, will not-permit the introduction of such customs, for the Pope has no orders to give in their country”.

Clement VI, unfortunately, did not recognize the injury inflicted on the interests of the Church by his extravagant demands for money. On the contrary, when the abuses which had ensued were brought to his notice, and he was reminded that none of his predecessors had allowed things to go to such lengths, he replied, “My predecessors did not know how to be Popes”, a saying which is characteristic of this Pontiff, in whose person the period of the Avignon exile is most characteristically portrayed.

Happily for the Church, Clement’s successor, Innocent VI (1352-1362), was of a very different stamp. This “austere and righteous” man—seems to have taken Benedict XII as his model. Immediately after his coronation he revoked the Constitution of Clement VI, granting benefices in certain cathedral and collegiate churches to ecclesiastical dignitaries, suspended a number of Reservations and In Commendams, expressed his disapproval of pluralities, and bound every beneficed priest to personal residence, under pain of excommunication. In this way he emptied the Papal Palace of a crowd of useless courtiers, whose only occupation was intrigue and money-making. Naturally frugal in his own expenses, and convinced that it was his duty to be very careful in regard to the possessions of the Church, he banished all splendour from his Court, put a stop to superfluous outlay, and dismissed needless servants. He required the Cardinals, many of whom were given up to luxury and had amassed immense wealth, to follow his example, and often rebuked the passions and failings of individual members of the Sacred College. Preferment in his days was the reward of merit. “Ecclesiastical dignities”, he used to say, “should follow virtue, not birth”. Innocent VI, who contemplated a thorough reform of Church government in general earnestly strove to stem the corruption of the age, even beyond his own immediate sphere. Accordingly, in 1357, he sent Bishop Philippe de Labassole to Germany to labour at the reform of the clergy. Almost all historians regard Innocent VI as an austere, earnest, and capable ruler, who, although not wholly free from the taint of nepotism, worked unceasingly for the welfare of the Church and of his people. Some even consider him the best of the Avignon Popes.

This remarkable Pontiff also lent a helping hand to the final restoration of the Empire, but this new Empire was too weak to have sufficed for itself even in ordinary times. From the fear of a return to the days of Frederick II and Louis of Bavaria, it was considered prudent, if possible, to deprive the Empire of all power of injuring the Church, and everything else was sacrificed to this idea. The mistake proved a serious one. With all his admirable qualities, Innocent VI was no politician.

The brightest spot in his Pontificate is the restoration of the papal authority in Italy, by means of the gifted Cardinal Albornoz. The return of the Pope to his original and proper capital was now a possibility. It was, moreover, becoming a matter of urgent necessity, as the residence of the Papal Court on the banks of the Rhone had been rendered most insecure by the increasing power of mercenary bands and the growing confusion of French affairs. Innocent VI had indeed meant to visit Rome, but old age and sickness frustrated his purpose. His successor, the learned and saintly Urban V (1362-1370), was more fortunate. Two great events mark his Pontificate as one of the most important of the century.

His return to Rome, which the Emperor Charles IV promoted with all his power, was effected in 1367. It was the only means by which the papal authority could be reinstated, the Papacy delivered from the entanglement of the war between France and England, and the necessary reform of ecclesiastical discipline carried out.

The second great event, which occurred in the following year, was the Emperor Charles IV’s pilgrimage to Rome and the friendly alliance between the Empire and the Church. The return of Urban V to the tombs of the Apostles was an occasion of immense rejoicing to all earnest and devout Italians. Giovanni Colombini, the founder of the Gesuati, and his religious came as far as Corneto to meet the Pope, singing hymns of praise. They bore palm branches in their hands, and accompanied the Holy Father on his way with rejoicings. Shortly afterwards he confirmed their statutes which were based on the Rule of St. Benedict. Petrarch welcomed the Pope on his entry into Rome in the words of the psalmist: “When Israel went out of Egypt, the house of Jacob from a barbarous people, then was our mouth filled with gladness and our tongue with joy”.

Rome had seen no Pope within her walls for more than sixty years; the city was a very picture of utter decay: the principal churches, the Lateran Basilica, St. Peter's, and St. Paul's, and the Papal Palaces were almost in ruins. The experience of two generations had proved, that while the Popes might possibly do without Rome, Rome could not do without the Popes. Urban V at once gave orders for the restoration of the dilapidated buildings and churches. Royal guests soon arrived at her gates, and the city gradually began to recover. The Romans came to meet their Sovereign with all due respect and submission; peace and quietness seemed at last to have returned. But Urban V was not endowed with strength and perseverance to unravel the tangled skein of Italian affairs, and resist his own longing and that of most of the Cardinals for their beautiful French home. In vain did the Franciscan, Pedro of Aragon, point out the probability of a schism if the Pope should forsake the seat of the Apostles. The supplications of the Romans, the warnings of Petrarch, and St. Bridget's prediction that he would die when he left Italy, were unavailing to turn Urban V from his purpose. To the great sorrow of all true friends of the Papacy and the Church, he went to Avignon, where he shortly died (December 19, 1370). When Petrarch heard the tidings he wrote: “Urban would have been reckoned amongst the most glorious of men, if he had caused his dying bed to be laid before the Altar of St. Peter and had there fallen asleep with a good conscience, calling God and the world to witness that if ever the Pope had left this spot it was not his fault, but that of the originators of so shameful a flight”. With the exception of this weakness, Urban V was one of the best of the Popes, and his resistance to the moral corruption of the day is worthy of all honour, even though he was unable completely to efface the traces of the former disorders.

The period was in many ways a most melancholy one. The prevailing immorality exceeded anything that had been witnessed since the tenth century. Upon a closer inquiry into the causes of this state of things, we shall find that the evil was in great measure due to the altered conditions of civilized life. Commercial progress, facilities of intercourse, the general well-being and prosperity of all classes of society in Italy, France, Germany and the Low Countries, had greatly increased during the latter part of the thirteenth century. Habits of life changed rapidly, and became more luxurious and pleasure-seeking. The clergy of all degrees, with some honourable exceptions, went with the current. Fresh wants necessitated additional resources, and some of the Popes (as, for example, John XXII and Clement VI) adopted those financial measures of which we have already spoken. Gold became the ruling power everywhere. Alvaro Pelayo, speaking as an eyewitness, says that the officials of the Papal Court omitted no mean of enriching themselves. No audience was to be obtained, no business transacted without money, and even permission to receive Holy Orders had to be purchased by presents. The same evils, on a smaller scale, prevailed in most of the episcopal palaces. The promotion of unworthy and incompetent men, and the complete neglect of the obligation of residence, were the results of this system. The synods, indeed, often urged this obligation, but the example of those in high places counteracted their efforts. The consequent want of supervision is in itself enough to explain the decay of discipline in the matter of the celibacy of the clergy, though the unbridled immorality, which kept pace with the increasing luxury of the age, had here also led many astray.

Urban V, himself a saintly man, attacked these abuses with energy and skill; he clearly saw that the reformation of the clergy was the first thing to be attended to and took vigorous measures, not only against heretical teachers, but also against immoral and simoniacal ecclesiastics and idle monks. He enforced the rule regarding the holding of Provincial Councils, which had long been neglected, put a stop to the disgraceful malpractices of the Advocates and Procurators of the Roman Court, and conferred benefices only on the deserving. He wished his Court to be a pattern of Christian conduct, and, therefore, watched carefully over the morals of his surroundings. He was fearless wherever he believed the interests of God to be concerned, and, although of a yielding disposition, showed an amount of decision in maintaining the rights and liberties of the Church, which astonished all who knew him. The luxurious life at Avignon was distasteful to him, and furnished one strong reason for his journey to Rome. He was free from any taint of nepotism, and induced his father to give up a pension which the King of France had granted him; justice was his aim in all things; he was punctual in holding Consistories; all business, especially such as concerned the affairs of the poor, was promptly despatched, he kept strict order in his Court, and put down all fraud and oppression. During his sojourn in Italy, Urban also occupied himself with ecclesiastical reforms, one of which was that of the celebrated Abbey of Monte Casino.

The weakness of Urban V in so speedily abandoning Rome was visited on Gregory XI (1370-1378), a Pontiff distinguished for learning, piety, modesty, and purity of life. In his time, the spirit of Italian nationality rose up against the French Papacy. The great mistake which had been made in entrusting the government of the States of the Church almost exclusively to Provençals, strangers to the country and to its people, was sternly avenged. A national movement ensued, the effects of which still survive in Italy, and which produced a general uprising of the Italians against the French.

The Republic of Florence, once the staunchest ally of the Holy See, now took the lead in opposition “to the evil Pastors of the Church”, and in July, 1375, associated itself with Bernabò Visconti, the old enemy of the Apostolic See. Unfurling a red banner, on which shone the word, “Liberty”, in golden letters, the Florentines called upon all who were dissatisfied with the rule of the Papal Legates to arise. The preponderant of Frenchmen against the governors in the States of the Church was, no doubt, in some degree the cause of the ready response made to his appeal. Still, the most loyal adherent of Gregory XI, St. Catherine of Siena, denounces the conduct of the “evil Pastors”, and urges the Pope to proceed vigorously against those “who poison and devastate the garden of the Church”. It would, however, be unfair to adopt the tone of the majority of Italian chroniclers and historians, and lay all the blame on the Papal Legates. “The policy of most of the Italian states”, to quote the words of one thoroughly conversant with this period, “was infected with that same disease of self-seeking and duplicity, of which the Legates were accused, while the mode of government in the princely Castles and in the Republics was incomparably more oppressive than in the Papal dominions. Some of these Legates were among the most distinguished servants of the Church of that age, but they all shared in the Original Sin of foreign nationality, and did not understand the Italians, who, on the other hand, found it convenient to attribute to others their own faults”.

The behaviour of the Florentines towards Gregory XI was closely connected with the internal affairs of the Republic. A numerous party in Florence, to whom the increased authority of the dominant Guelph section of the nobles was obnoxious, extremely disliked the strengthening of the territorial power of the Pope. Dreading a diminution of Florentine influence in Central Italy, they adroitly made use of the errors of the Papal governors to stir up the States of the Church. Their efforts were successful beyond all expectation. In the November and December of 1375, Montefiascone, Viterbo, Citta di Castello, Narni, and Perugia rose in revolt, soon to be followed by Assisi, Spoleto, Ascoli, Civita Vecchia, Forli, and Ravenna, and before two months had passed, the March of Ancona, the Romagna, the Duchy of Spoleto, in short, the whole of the States of the Church were in open insurrection. The power of the revolutionary torrent is strikingly shown by the defection of Barons like Bertrando d'Alidosio, the Vicar Apostolic of Imola, and Rodolfo da Varano, who had been numbered among the most devoted adherents of the Pope. The Florentines, not yet content, made constant efforts to gain the few cities which still resisted the Revolution, and, where letters and emissaries failed to accomplish this object, proceeded to more forcible measures.

Consternation reigned in Avignon; Gregory XI, timid by nature, was deeply shocked and alarmed by the evil tidings from Italy. Fearing that the cities which still remained true to him would also join the standard of revolt, he endeavoured to make terms with his opponents, but in vain; the Florentines had no desire for peace, especially when they had succeeded in inducing the powerful city of Bologna, the “pearl of the Romagna”, to turn against the Pope.

In face of the reckless proceedings of his enemies, Gregory XI believed the time had come when even a pacific Pontiff must seriously think of war. A sentence accordingly went forth, which, as time proved, was terrible in its effects and in many respects doubtless too severe. The citizens of Florence, were excommunicated, an interdict was laid upon the city, Florence, with, its inhabitants and possessions, was declared to be outlawed. Gregory XI came to the unfortunate decision of opposing force by force, and sending the wild Breton mercenaries, who were then at Avignon with their captain, Jean de Malestroit, to Italy, under the command of the fierce Cardinal Legate, Robert of Geneva. War was declared between the last French Head of the Church and the Republic of Florence.

No one more deeply bewailed these sad events than St. Catherine of Siena, a young and lowly nun, who exercised a wonderful influence over the hearts of her contemporaries, as the ministering angel of the poor in their corporal and spiritual necessities, the heroic nurse of the plague-stricken, and the mighty preacher of penance. This simple maiden, who is one of the most marvellous figures in the history of the world, clearly perceived the faults on both sides in this terrible strife, and "in heartstirring and heartwinning words" spoke out her convictions to all, even to the most powerful. As the true Bride of Him who came to bring peace to the world, she constantly urged peace and reconciliation upon the opposing parties. “What is sweeter than peace?” she wrote to Niccolò Soderini, one of the most influential citizens of Florence; “it was the last will and testament which Jesus Christ left to His disciples, when He said, ‘You shall not be known as My disciples by working miracles, nor by foretelling the future, nor by great holiness shown forth in all your actions, but only if you shall live together in charity and peace and love’. So great is my grief at this war which will destroy so many among you, body and soul, that I would readily, if it were possible, give my life a thousand times to stop it”.

The letters addressed by St. Catherine to Pope Gregory XI are unique in their kind. She looks at everything from, the highest point of view, and does not scruple to tell the Pope the most unwelcome truths, without, however, for a moment forgetting the reverence due to the Vicar of Christ. “You are indeed bound”, she says in one of these letters, “to win back the territory which has been lost to the Church; but you are even more bound to win back all the lambs which are the Church’s real treasure, and whose loss will truly impoverish her, not indeed in herself, for the Blood of Christ cannot be diminished, but the Church loses a great adornment of glory which she receives from her virtuous and obedient children. It is far better to part with a temporal treasure than with one which is eternal. Do what you can; when all that is possible has been done, you are excused in the sight of God and of men. You must strike them with the weapons of goodness, of love, and of peace, and you will gain more than by the weapons of war. And when I inquire of God what is the best for your salvation, for the restoration of the Church, and for the whole world, there is no other answer but the word, Peace, Peace! For the love of the crucified Saviour, Peace”. “Be valiant and not fearful”, St. Catherine entreats after the revolt of Bologna; “answer God who calls you to come and to fill and defend the place of the glorious Pastor St. Peter, whose successor you are. Raise the standard of the Holy Cross, for as, according to the saying of the Apostle St. Paul, we are made free by the Cross, so by the exaltation of this standard which appears before me as the consolation of Christendom, shall we be delivered from discord, war and wickedness, and those who have gone astray shall return to their allegiance. Thus doing you shall obtain the conversion of the Pastors of the Church. Implant again in her heart the burning love that she has lost. She is pale through loss of blood which has been drained by insatiable devourers. But take courage and come, O Father; let not the servants of God, whose hearts are heavy with longing, have still to wait for you. And I, poor and miserable that I am, cannot wait longer; life seems death to me while I see and hear that God is so dishonoured. Do not let yourself be kept from peace by what has come to pass in Bologna, but come, I tell you that ravening wolves will lay their heads in your lap like gentle lambs, and beseech you to have pity on them, O Father”.

With like freedom did Catherine point out to the rulers of Florence that they owed obedience to the Church, even if her pastors failed in the performance of their duties. “You know well that Christ left us His Vicar for the salvation of our souls, for we cannot find salvation anywhere save in the mystical body of the Church, whose Head is Christ and whose members we are. He who is disobedient to the Christ on earth has no share in the inheritance of the Blood of the Son of God, for God has ordained that by his hand we should be partakers of this Blood and of all the Sacraments of the Church which receive life from this Blood. There is no other way, we can enter by no other door, for He who is Very Truth says, ‘I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life’. He who walks in this way is in the truth and not in falsehood. This is the way of hatred of sin, not the way of self-love which is the source of all evil. You see then, my dear sons, that he who like a corrupt member resists the Holy Church and our Father, the Christ upon earth, lies under sentence of death. For as we demean ourselves towards him, whether honouring him or disobeying him, so do we demean ourselves towards Christ in Heaven. I say it to you with the deepest sorrow, by your disobedience and persecution you have deserved death and the wrath of God. There can nothing worse happen to you than the loss of His grace; human power is of little avail where divine power is wanting, and he watcheth in vain that keepeth the city, unless the Lord keep it. Many indeed think that they are not offending God but serving Him, when they persecute the Church and her Pastors, and say they are bad and do nothing but harm; yet I tell you that even if the Pastors were incarnate devils and the Pope the same, instead of a good and kind Father, we must be obedient and submissive to him, not for his own sake, but as the Vicar of the Lord in obedience to God”.

The words, alas! fell on a barren soil, St. Catherine soon perceived to her great sorrow that the Florentines, who had sent her to negotiate their terms of peace at Avignon (June, 1376), had no real desire to come to an understanding with the Pope. For those who now held sway in Florence intended to bring the Church to such straits that her temporal power would disappear, and this not from any lofty ideal as to the higher interests of the Church, but in order that the Pope should be without the means of punishing them. The peace, with which the Saint of Siena saw that the fulfilment of the dearest wish of her heart—the Pope0s return to Rome—was closely connected, seemed more distant than ever. But St. Catherine did not lose courage. During her sojourn at Avignon she unceasingly implored the Pope to yield and to let mercy prevail over justice; not content with this, she desired to lay the axe to the root, in order to remove the evil thoroughly. She now urged him by word of mouth, as she had already done in her letters, to undertake the reformation of the clergy. The worldly-minded Cardinals were amazed at the plain speaking of this nun. She told the Pope of his failings, especially his inordinate regard for his relations. All Avignon was in a state of excitement; many would have been glad to crush her, but they feared the Pope who had taken her under his protection. She loudly complained that at the Papal Court, which ought to have been a Paradise of virtue, her nostrils were assailed by the odours of hell. It is greatly to the honour of Gregory that St. Catherine could venture to speak thus plainly, and equally to her honour that she did so speak.

St Catherine0s zeal for reform was even surpassed by that with which she endeavoured to bring about the return of the Pope to Rome. She laboured with the greatest ardour for the realization of this project, which lay very near her heart, in the first place on account of the relations then existing between Rome and Italy, and the longing desire of all Italians. But her strongest motive was her solemn conviction that the Chief Pastoral Office in the Church ought to be closely associated with the City, which the blood of the Apostles and of countless martyrs had hallowed. She by no means overlooked the other advantages of the ancient abode of the Caesars, but her devout enthusiasm—herein widely differing from that of Petrarch—was kindled by the vision of Rome, as the Holy City born again and ennobled in Christ. She writes of Rome, as a “garden watered with the blood of martyrs, which still flows there and calls on others to follow them”; and it was her desire to make her great by restoring to her her choicest ornament, the Throne of the Apostles. Equally earnest was her desire to restore the fallen power of the Vicar of Christ; and, fully persuaded that in no other city on earth could the Papacy flourish as in Rome, she gave herself no rest, until she had undone the work of Philip the Fair.

Meanwhile the aspect of affairs in Italy had become more and more threatening to the Papacy. Besides Rome only Cesena, Orvieto, Ancona, Osimo, and Jesi, had remained true to the Pope, and the rebels had left no means untried to shake the allegiance of these places. Rightly judging that the attitude of the Eternal City must have a decisive influence, they laboured especially to induce the Romans to rebel. But happily for Gregory, the violent letters of the Florentine Chancellor, Coluccio Salutato, urging them to rise against “the barbarians, the French robbers, and the flattering priests”, were unheeded. It was, however, impossible for Rome to continue absolutely uninfluenced by the general insurrectionary movement, and a party arose there which threatened that if Gregory put off his return to Italy, an antipope should be elected. The great excitement which reigned throughout the States of the Church, is proved by the fact that many of the inferior clergy in the revolted Provinces joined the insurrection, and incited the members of their flocks to expel the Papal officials.

Since the days of Frederick II the Papacy had never been in such imminent peril, for it now seemed on the point of losing its historical position in Italy, and even of being permanently banished by the Italians themselves to Avignon. St. Bridget had, many years before, expressed her fear that, unless Gregory XI soon returned to Italy, he would forfeit not only his temporal, but also his spiritual authority, and this fear seemed on the point of realization. The restoration of the Papal residence to Rome was the only possible remedy.

Gregory XI had long entertained the idea of going to Rome, but the influences which detained him in France had as yet been too strong; his venerated father, Count de Beaufort, his mother, his four sisters, his King, his Cardinals, and his own repugnance towards a country whose language was unknown to him, were all so many hindrances in the way. If the sickly and timid Pontiff at last overcame the pressure put upon him by those around him, and by the French King, who sent his own brother the Duke of Anjou, to Avignon, this result is due to the burning, words of St. Catherine of Siena. On the 13thSeptember, 1376, Gregory XI left Avignon for Genoa travelling by way of Marseilles. At Genoa, St. Catherine succeeded in counteracting all the attempts made to induce him to turn back. Fearful storms delayed the voyage to Italy, and in consequence he only reached Corneto on the 5th December. The inhabitants of this ancient Etruscan City went forth to meet the Pope when he landed, carrying olive branches in their hands, and singing the Te Deum.

Gregory XI remained here five weeks, principally on account of inconclusive negotiations with the inhabitants of the Eternal City, whom the Florentines were ceaselessly inciting to revolt. The practical Romans, however, came to terms with the Pope's plenipotentiaries, and on the 21st December, 1376, an agreement was concluded which enabled him to continue his journey. He left Corneto on the 13th January, 1377, and on the 14th landed at Ostia and went up the Tiber to St. Paul's, whence on the 17th, accompanied by a brilliant retinue, he made his entry into the City of St. Peter.

The conclusion of the unnatural exile of the Papacy in France was a turning point in the history of the Church, as well as in that of Rome. The spell with which Philip the Fair had bound the ecclesiastical power was broken; a French Pope had set himself free. The gratitude of the world was assured to him, and that of Rome could not be wanting. Yet Gregory XI found no rest in the Eternal City, where anarchy had taken such deep root that the Florentines found no difficulty in stirring up fresh troubles. Hardly had he established himself in the Vatican, when the conflict regarding the limits of his authority in the City broke out anew, and the treaty concluded between the Pope and the Romans proved but a false peace. Yet more melancholy were the experiences of the well-meaning Pontiff in regard to general affairs. He had, as he himself wrote to the Florentines, left his beautiful native land, a grateful and devout people, and many other delights, and, notwithstanding the opposition or the prayers of Kings, Princes and many Cardinals, had hastened to Italy amid great dangers, with great fatigue, and at great cost, fully determined to remedy whatever his servants might have done amiss, ready, for love of peace, to accept conditions little honourable to himself, if only by this means tranquillity might be restored to Italy. To his deep sorrow all the hopes which he had built on his personal presence in Italy, were disappointed. The Improvement expected, not only by the Pope, but also by many discerning contemporaries, failed to appear. The rebellion had assumed such formidable dimensions, hatred against the rule of the Church seemed to be so interwoven with the sentiment of patriotism, that the evil might be deemed incurable. And the antipapal feeling was fearfully intensified by the tragical massacre perpetrated at Cesena (February, 1377), by order of the Cardinal of Geneva. This deed of blood was welcome to the Florentines, who now appealed, not only to their allies and to the hesitating Romans, but to many Kings and Princes of Christendom. While they portrayed the horrors that had taken place in Cesena in the darkest colours, they sought to justify their own attitude and to increase the hatred felt for the Papal cause. In Italy their efforts were very successful, as we learn from a passage in the Chronicle of Bologna, which declares that the people would believe neither in the Pope nor in the Cardinals, because such things had nothing in common with the Faith.

Gregory XI, whose health had suffered much from the climate, to which he was unaccustomed, and the troubles of the few months he had spent in Rome, left the unquiet city in the end of May for Anagni, where he remained until November. Amid the increasing confusion of affairs and exhaustion of financial resources, he never lost courage. He well knew that the fortune of war is subject to many vicissitudes, and he had firm confidence in the justice of his cause. The wise policy, with which he had liberally rewarded the loyal, severely punished the irreconcilable, and readily forgiven the repentant, gradually worked a change in his favour. He succeeded in reconciling the wealthy City of Bologna to the Church, and winning to his side Rodolfo da Varano, the chief General of the Florentines. The Prefect of Vico, to whom Viterbo was subject, also gave up the Florentine League, which seemed threatened with dissolution. But the people of Florence were not to be influenced by these events, and instead of adopting moderate measures, proceeded to extremities. The conditions proposed to the Pope were such as he could not accept. Not only did the Republic refuse to restore the confiscated property of the Church and to repeal the Edict against the Inquisition, but it also demanded that all rebels against the Church should remain for six years unpunished in statu quo, and should be free to make treaties, even against the Pope and the Church. Such proposals could not really be called conditions of peace; they were, as Gregory XI justly observed, merely an effort to strengthen revolutionary tyranny and to prepare the way for fresh war. And yet, in a letter addressed soon afterwards to the Romans, the Florentines had the audacity to complain most bitterly of the Pope as preaching peace with his lips only!

It is no wonder that, instead of listening to the mild counsels of St. Catherine of Siena, Gregory XI vigorously carried on the war with his inexorable opponents, who ended by disregarding even the Interdict. He took every means to ensure the publication of his terrible sentence against the Florentines, by which their trade was most seriously affected, in places such as Venice and Bologna, where it had not yet been promulgated. If tidings reached him, from countries where this had been done, of a lenient execution of the decree, he at once protested in the strongest terms. The injury thus inflicted on the national prosperity of the Republic was quite incalculable.

The prosecution of the war demanded an immense outlay. The increasing tyranny in the internal government of the Republic, and the insufferable burden laid by the Interdict on the consciences of a religious population, produced a growing desire for peace, which endangered the success of the warlike party. Signs of discord became apparent among the confederates. Accordingly, when the Bishop of Urbino, as envoy from the Pope, proposed their own ally Bernabò Visconti to the Florentines as umpire, the chiefs of their party did not venture to refuse to appear at the Peace Congress to be held at Sarzana. Early in the year 1378 Bernabò arrived in the city, where ambassadors from most of the Italian powers soon assembled. Gregory XI had at first been averse to sending a Cardinal to the Congress, but for the sake of peace he finally resolved on this concession, and the Cardinal of Amiens, accompanied by the Archbishops of Pampeluna and Narbonne, accordingly appeared on his behalf. On the 12th of March the negotiations began, to be almost immediately interrupted by the death of the Pope.

Gregory XI had returned to Rome from Anagni on the 7th November; the Romans who during his absence had become reconciled to the Papal rule, received him joyfully and delivered to him the contract of peace with Francesco di Vico, prefect of the City. A little before his death the Pope was able to assure the Romans that the condition of their City had hardly ever been so peaceful as during the preceding winter. The tranquillity of Rome could not, however, deceive Gregory as to the dangers which threatened the Papacy; he knew too well how much was still wanting to a durable settlement of Italian affairs, and he could not but acknowledge that he had failed to carry out the ecclesiastical reform so strongly and so justly urged upon him by St. Catherine. Dark visions hovered round his sick-bed. He seems to have had a foreboding of the schism that was imminent, for, on the 19th of March, 1378, he made arrangements to ensure the speedy and unanimous election of a successor. His health had always been delicate, and on the 27th March he succumbed to the continual agitation he had undergone and to the unfavourable effects of the Italian climate. Gregory XI was the last Pontiff given by France to the Church.

CHAPTER II. The Schism and the Great Heretical Movements, 1378-1406 (1409)