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A Journal of Catholic News and Views
1 Feb 2006
The Great Western Schism (Part I)
by Dr. John C. Rao
Lessons for the Troubled Catholic Present from its Chaotic Past
"Every age has its afflictions, but you have not seen, and no one has seen a time so troubled as the present." —St. Catherine of Siena
Why Study the Great Western Schism?
A detailed review of the chaotic years of the Great Western Schism is extremely helpful in coming to terms with the troubled Catholic present. It is useful, in this context, for three reasons. First of all, it shows us — as do all historical studies — that crises do not pop up out of nowhere, and that a given generation's miseries generally have been prepared in a previous age suffering from perhaps even more fundamental woes. Secondly, it demonstrates that resolution of the specifics of any given ecclesiastical disaster may not proceed precisely "by the book", especially if the problems involved are basically new ones and have not been confronted by theologians and canonists adequately before. Finally, it points to the fact that the Church's full awakening from a nightmare which has diverted her energies away from her real mission is a very difficult enterprise indeed; that it cannot be accomplished "on the cheap"; that if it is to take place at all, it must be built not only upon a humble digestion of the lessons taught by recent adversity, but also on a deeper inspection of all of the wisdom that the book and jewel box of her Tradition contain. Only thus can she truly arouse herself from her doctrinal and pastoral slumber and be better armed for the next inevitable battle with her outer and inner demons.
The Attack on the Incarnation and Co-Option by the Low Road
Allow me to begin by noting the fact that life in later medieval Europe was made miserable by a deep disillusionment with the dramatic monastic and papal reform movement promoting a political and social "transformation of all things in Christ" since the middle of the Tenth Century. Such disenchantment was encouraged by a variety of Manicheans, Millenarians, Nominalists, Legalists, and Money Grubbers, all of whom had been peddling their depressing wares in tense alliance with one another for almost as long as the ecclesiastical reformers had themselves been active. Some of these outspoken critics were simply overwhelmed by the practical failures of a powerful visible Church in living up to the public demands of her noble mission. Others jumped upon the critical bandwagon with the hidden, cynical aim of discrediting all exalted visions placing obstacles in the path of satisfaction of their own base self-interests. Still others rejected the very possibility of a political and social transformation in Christ out of honest conviction. Such an enterprise they understood to be, at best, a hopeless waste of time, and, at worst, a blasphemous attempt to baptize the inevitably satanic earthly realm; a horrifying dance with the devil. In rejecting the vision of the great reform movement of the High Middle Ages, however, such honest critics were turning their backs on the most profound discussion of the deepest consequences of the Incarnation and how human beings could use their free will to "give flesh" to the fullness of Christ's teachings.
A broad intellectual and spiritual disillusionment was driven home and given further clout by a seemingly endless succession of temporal calamities beginning in the mid 1200's and lasting throughout the whole of the Fourteenth Century. These catastrophes included the collapse of the central authority of the Holy Roman Empire, the destruction and internal dislocation caused by the Hundred Years' War between France and England, the loss of the Holy Land, the appearance of the Ottoman Turks in Europe, and an ever more open economic and social class war. All such problems were worsened by the successive waves of plague breaking upon Europe from 1348 onwards and the self-preoccupation perhaps inevitably accompanying them. Surely now, critics of "giving flesh" to the consequences of the Incarnation might argue, anyone who thought that nature was meant to serve the greater glory of God had to see that he was battering his head against a brick wall. Surely now he had to realize that actively working to achieve such a goal made him either a fool or a conscious cooperator with malevolent materialist forces.
Catholics are probably best acquainted with the contemporary misfortunes flowing from the humiliation of Pope Boniface VIII (1294-1303) at the hands of King Philip the Fair (1285-1314) and his anticlerical legal advisors: enemies of "transformation in Christ" if ever there were ones. Consistent statist attacks on ecclesiastical rights during that monarch's reign forced a Church preoccupation with conditions in his troublesome kingdom. This fixation in turn seemed to dictate a temporary papal presence in or near France, as well as the selection of a line of Gallic popes suitable for handling French affairs. Pontifical absence from Rome contributed to the chaotic conditions disturbing much of Italy in the 1300's, where the breakdown of imperial authority had further promoted the growth of autonomous, quarreling city-states. Increasing Italian instability then, in turn, confirmed the papal resolve to stay at its "temporary" residence in the city of Avignon, the entirety of which was finally purchased during the reign of Clement VI (1342-1352). Here, directly adjacent to the Kingdom of France, but on the road that led to Rome, anyone could make the best of an ever-longer Gallic vacation.
Most Catholics familiar with these problems think of the post-Boniface VIII era as one of papal captivity and weakness. In many respects, it really was not. French kings had too many life-and-death problems over the course of the next century to pursue a consistent policy of papal humiliation. The popes came to and left France and Avignon on their own steam. Moreover, they refined therein the most centralized and refined administrative apparatus that the Church had ever possessed; one that both imitated and yet often surpassed in efficiency the bureaucracies of any of the troubled secular governments of the day. Popes, Cardinals, and officials of the Chancery and Apostolic Camera appointed bishops, collected taxes, and imposed disreputable political interdicts and excommunications throughout much of Christendom with greater abandon than ever before. They did so in tight association with countless princes and other representatives of the late medieval Establishment. Bankers were particularly welcome in their entourage. As Alvaro Pelayo, himself a fervent supporter of the Holy See, noted in De planctu ecclesiae, "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." (Pastor, I, 72).
A myriad of astonishing abuses, many of them the product of exceedingly pro-papal canonists influenced heavily by Roman Law and purely utilitarian power considerations, became associated with the Avignon administration. Charitable covers for raking in illicit funds were multiplied. Sees were left vacant or filled in ways that furthered the increase of gross curial muscle and wealth. Legal cases were painfully delayed so as to milk more loot from long-suffering plaintiffs and defendants. And, once again, all this was done in dangerous cahoots with locally important political and banker hacks.
Even more destructive was the treatment of diocesan matters as property rather than pastoral questions. Bishoprics were assigned either to curial officials — to provide, from their endowments, salaries the Papacy could not otherwise pay — or to friends of political allies whose cooperative behavior needed to be rewarded. Since it was impossible for papal employees to leave their governmental positions in Avignon to tend to even one diocese — much less the two or more often entrusted to their misuse — episcopal charges inevitably entailed the same absenteeism already practiced by the pope himself. Perhaps the most bizarre long term development from such unfortunate policies was to be the creation of nominal "bishops" who were often not even priests. Lay "bishops" got the revenues from their "property", and then employed some hireling to do the episcopal tasks they themselves could not legitimately perform.
All this indicated a diversion from the Church's understanding of her main mission and what she most needed in order to fulfill it. It revealed a "preferential option for the low road", a massive placing of her faith in purely earthly tools and gimmicks, a bow to the cynical preoccupations of those who did not really, in practice, believe in the greater strength coming from spiritual transformation in Christ. Avignon's abuses merely confirmed the convictions of those who already thought of the Church and her mission as a blasphemous work of Satan. This was the major reason why her scandals were so detested by orthodox believers. Their reactions ranged from the harsh, prophetic, and well-known attacks of St. Bridget to the practical adoption by various cities and countries of complicated political measures limiting or even prohibiting papal misrule entirely. In Germany, for instance:
"In October, 1372, the monasteries and abbies 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 imperiled. 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." (Ibid., 91-92)
Chaotic conditions in a France crippled by the Hundred Years' War eventually threatened the security, both physical and financial, of Avignon. Still, before a return to Rome could be contemplated, the Eternal City had itself to be pacified. Pacification required a calming not only of the power of a large number of local notables and their mercenary bands, but also of many others from central Italy, Naples, and as far afield as Milan. Different popes tried diverse tactics. Innocent VI (1352-1362) relied upon the military-backed mission of Cardinal Alborñoz (1353-1363), while his Benedictine successor, Urban V (1362-1370), bet on a personal sojourn in Italy and peaceful persuasion. Gregory XI (1370-1378) returned permanently to Rome in early 1377 before the work of pacification was in any way complete. He died on March 27th, 1378, as the situation hung between negotiations and a potentially very expensive papal war with the neighboring Republic of Florence.
The Great Western Schism
The conclave that met at Rome in April of 1378 was ill-prepared and heated. Two Gallic factions, both of which disliked Italy, nevertheless felt compelled to promise the threatening inhabitants of the Eternal City that they would once again be given a pope who was at least Italian. So fearful were some of the electors of the possible reaction of the parochial-minded mob to their choice of the Archbishop of Bari, Bartholomoeo Prignani, as Pope Urban VI (1378-1389), that they temporarily passed off the half-dead Roman Cardinal Tebaldeschi as the new pontiff, and then fled for their lives. But the well-known Urban actually proved to be acceptable to the local citizenry, his coronation was performed without incident, and the frightened Princes of the Church returned. Unfortunately for them, however, this pure, austere, and learned man quickly alienated his electors and their corrupt entourage through reform measures reflecting a "naturally arbitrary and extremely violent and imprudent" character (Ibid., 122).
"But instead of proceeding with the prudence and moderation demanded by a task of such peculiar difficulty, he suffered himself from the first to be carried away by the passionate impetuosity of his temper ….The very next day after his coronation he gave offence to many Bishops and Prelates who were sojourning in Rome, some of them for business, and some without any such reason. When, after Vespers, they paid him their respects in the great Chapel of the Vatican, he called them perjurers, because they had left their churches. A fortnight later, preaching in open consistory, he condemned the morals of the Cardinals and Prelates in such harsh and unmeasured terms, that all were deeply wounded….Urban also issued ordinances against the luxury of the Cardinals, and these measures were no doubt most excellent. Would only that the Pope had proceeded in a less violent and uncompromising manner! He certainly did not take the best way of reforming the worldly-minded Cardinals, when, in the Consistory, he sharply bade one of them be silent, and called out to the others 'Cease your foolish chattering!' nor again, when he told Cardinal Orsini that he was a blockhead….St. Catherine of Siena was aware of the severity with which Urban VI was endeavouring to carry out his reforms, and immediately exhorted and warned him. 'Justice without mercy', she wrote to the Pope, 'will be injustice rather than justice.' 'Do what you have to do with moderation', she said in another letter, 'and with good will and a peaceful heart, for excess destroys rather than builds up. For the sake of your Crucified Lord, keep these hasty movements of your nature a little in check.'" (Ibid., pp. 123-124).
Urban remained intransigent, convincing many of the men around him, worldly or not, that he had gone stark raving mad. By August 9th, the thirteen Gallic cardinals had had enough, and condemned his election as coerced and correspondingly illicit. Then, on September 20th, at Fondi, south of Rome, with the quiet support of their three Italian counterparts, they elected Robert of Geneva as Pope Clement VII (1378-1394) in his place. The Great Western Schism had begun.
Rome had undergone a "mystic invasion" (Histoire du christianisme VI, 93) due to the return of the Papacy to the Eternal City. Saints like Catherine of Siena, one of the generals leading that holy assault, were scandalized by the action of the renegade cardinals, and begged for their peaceful return to the allegiance of Urban VI. But the "Roman" pope thought that he could solve his woes through military force alone. He called a Crusade against Queen Joanna of Naples, who had offered sanctuary to Clement, and succeeded in forcing his competitor out of Italy after the Battle of Marino. This initial victory did not, however, prevent Clement from returning triumphantly to Avignon (June 29th, 1379). Here, he was able to make immediate good use of the bulk of the papal administrative apparatus, which had never followed Gregory XI to Italy in the first place.
By 1379, both sides, their bases established, began a fervent competition for political and financial support. Tax collectors from Rome and Avignon appeared almost everywhere. Bankers, with their usual concern for even-handedness, often served both pontiffs simultaneously. In many dioceses, two bishops and two cathedral chapters emerged, with the very validity of the masses offered by the opposing sides coming under theoretical and actual physical attack. Pro-Urban bishops were barred entry to certain Sees and pro-Clement prelates to others. Serious Catholics looked upon the spectacle with an equal mixture of confusion and horror. Archbishop Peter Tenorio of Toledo prayed simply, in the Canon of the Mass, for the man who was truly pope, since he himself could not determine who that might be. Still, at least he continued to offer supplication. In some places, public worship ceased altogether. (Pastor, I, 141-146),
Supporters of Urban included most of the States of the Church, the Emperor, Flanders, England, and Portugal. Clement gained the backing of important sections of the hopelessly splintered Empire, such as Speyer and Mainz, along with Savoy, Scotland, and — after much soul searching and delay — Aragon, Castile, and Navarre. Many French prelates and the University of Paris were terribly troubled by the split. Nevertheless, the Kingdom of France accepted Clement in 1379 after an orchestrated public assembly of the sort perfected by the legalists of Philip the Fair to give that monarch's crimes a broad respectability. The University's coerced public stamp of arrival in 1383 led faculty and students who disagreed with the decision to leave for new centers of higher learning like Heidelberg and Lerida. Many cities and some states, like Naples, really could not make up their minds concerning whom they wished to support, or switched their allegiance due to dynastic changes. The mystic front eventually divided in two along with the rest of Christendom, Catherine of Siena remaining firmly with Urban, Vincent Ferrer and Peter of Luxembourg with Clement.
The Roman line of popes suffered due to its lack of administrative structures. It has a badly documented history. We know that Urban's situation remained forever troubled. He had miserable relations with his twenty-nine newly created Cardinals, some of whom he imprisoned, tortured, and put to death under atrocious conditions. Difficulties with Naples pursued him throughout his reign, while he continued the very abuses that he had so vigorously condemned when they were perpetrated by others. Prignani was followed onto the throne of Peter by a sick, badly cultivated, and impossibly simoniac Boniface IX (Pietro Tomacelli, 2 November 1389 - 1 October, 1404). Boniface was perpetually destitute and lived by dubious expedients, offering enough examples of sales of benefices and plenary indulgences, Jubilee corruption, and outright robbery to give credence to Nicholas de Clémangis' claim, in his book On the Ruin of the Church (1401), that "money was the origin of the Schism and the root of all the confusion." (Ibid., 146) He was succeeded by Innocent VII (Cosimo Megliorati, 17 October, 1404 - 6 November, 1406), and Gregory XII (Angelo Corrario, 30 November, 1406 - 4 July, 1415).
Avignon's line is much better known. It is also simpler to memorize. Clement VII, who died on 16 September, 1394, was followed only by the Aragonese Benedict XIII (Pedro de Luna , 28 September, 1394 - either 29 November 1422 or 23 May, 1423). Nevertheless, this one superhumanly wily figure, ordained a priest only after his election, gave the Roman popes more than a run for their money for the prize of greatest irritant to prostrate Christendom.
As the original protagonists of the Schism died, more and more contemporaries began to echo Archbishop Tenorio's fear that there might not be any definitive way to know who the true pope really was. Perplexity was accompanied by an expansion of local and national efforts to ensure self-protection. Aragon had very speedily organized its own Apostolic Camera to collect Church taxes. England soon re-enacted laws to fill the kingdom's bishoprics promulgated during earlier tiffs with the pre-1378 Avignon Papacy. Others then followed suit, with certain rulers beginning to enjoy the benefits of the game so much as to argue that there should be as many popes as there were political jurisdictions. Peter Suchenwirt related popular reactions to the situation in simple poetic form:
"In Rome itself we have a Pope — in Avignon another;
And each one claims to be alone — the true and lawful ruler.
The world is troubled and perplext — twere better we had none;
Than two to rule o'er Christendom — where God would have but one.
He chose St. Peter who his fault — with bitter tears bewailed;
As you may read the story told — upon the sacred page.
Christ gave St. Peter power to bind — and also power to loose;
Now men are binding here and there — Lord loose our bonds we pray!"
(Ibid., 140)
Meanwhile, the number of apocalyptic-minded lamentations and expressions of heretical contempt grew ever higher:
"The preaching of a Saint Vincent Ferrer responded to the expectations of the crowds to whom he announced the arrival of the Antichrist. The whole labor of Gerson displays his horror before the peril that the schism caused the Church to run. It is to the people which the preaching of Wycliffe and Huss were addressed. The numerous prophecies of the epoch, Hildegarde, Saint Briget, Ermine, Telesphorus well illustrate the popular inquietude. The recluse, Marie Robine…saw 'appear before Christ all the curates of the world, the priors, the abbés, the bishops, the pope and twelve cardinals; they were simply dressed, but their words were lying….Against them was raised the cry of vengeance of all those who died, through their fault, without being succored." (Histoire du Christianisme, VI, 107-108).
Once again, the greatest undeserving loser in the entire pathetic experience was the magnificent medieval movement for giving flesh to all the consequences of the Incarnation; for transforming all things in Christ. "They say that the world must be renewed", the pious Giovanni dalle Celle cried out, indicating, the enormous temptation of even the most orthodox thinkers to abandon the long-term goals of so many holy monastic and papal reformers; "I say, it must be destroyed". (Pastor, I, 145).
[Read Part II of The Great Western Schism.]
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