VOLUME I. BOOK 1

 

CHAPTER III

THE SCHISM AND THE GREAT HERETICAL MOVEMENTS

1378-1406 (1409).

 

AFTER an interval of seventy-five years a Conclave again met in Rome, and on its decision depended the question whether or not the injurious predominance of France in the management of the affairs of the Church should continue. Severe struggles were to be expected, for no slight disunion existed in the Sacred College.

Of the sixteen Cardinals then present in Rome, four only were of Italian nationality. Francesco Tibaldeschi and Giacomo Orsini were Romans, Simone da Borsano and Pietro Corsini, natives respectively of Milan and Florence. These Princes of the Church were naturally desirous that an Italian should occupy the Chair of St. Peter. The twelve foreign or “Ultramontane” Cardinals, of whom one was a Spaniard and the others French, were subdivided into two parties. The Limousin Cardinals strove for the elevation of a native of their province, the birthplace of the last four Popes. Of the six remaining members of the Sacred College, two were undecided, and the four others, of whom the Cardinal of Geneva was the leader, formed what was called the Gallican faction.

No party accordingly had the preponderance, and a protracted Conclave was to be anticipated. External circumstances, however, led to a different result. Before the Cardinals entered on their deliberations, the Municipal authorities of Rome had besought them to elect a Roman, or at any rate an Italian, and while the Conclave was proceeding, the governors of the districts appeared, and presented the same petition. The populace gathered round the Vatican in the greatest excitement, demanding, with shouts and uproar, the election of a Roman. The Cardinals were compelled to make haste, and as no one of the three parties was sufficiently powerful to carry the day, all united in favor of Bartolomeo Prignano, Archbishop of Bari, a candidate who belonged to no party and seemed in many respects the individual best fitted to rule the Church in this period of peculiar difficulty. He was the worthiest and most capable among the Italian prelates. As a native of Naples, he was the subject of Queen Joanna, whose protection at this crisis was of the greatest importance. A long residence in Avignon had given him the opportunity of acquiring French manners, and ties of equal strength bound him to Italy and to France. On the 8th April, 1378, he was elevated to the supreme dignity, taking the name of Urban VI.

Great confusion was occasioned by a misunderstanding which occurred after the election. The crowd forcibly broke into the Conclave to see the new Pope, and the Cardinals, dreading to inform them of the election of Prignano, who was not a Roman, persuaded the aged Cardinal Tibaldeschi to put on the Papal Insignia and allow the populace to greet him. Hardly had this been done, when, apprehensive of what might happen when the deception was discovered, most of the Cardinals sought safety in flight. Finally, confidence was restored by the assurance of the City authorities that Prignano’s election would find favor with the people. It is plain then that the election itself was not the result of compulsion on the part of the Roman populace. If, however, the least suspicion of constraint could be attached to it, the subsequent bearing of the Cardinals was sufficient to completely counteract it. As soon as tranquility was restored Prignano’s election was announced to the people and was followed by his Coronation. All the Cardinals then present in Rome took part in the ceremony, and thereby publicly acknowledged Urban VI as the rightful Pope. They assisted him in his ecclesiastical functions and asked him for spiritual favours. They announced his election and Coronation to the Emperor and to Christendom in general by letters signed with their own hands, and homage was universally rendered to the new Head of the Church. No member of the Sacred College thought of calling the election in question; on the contrary, in official documents, as well as in private conversations, they all maintained its undoubted validity.

It cannot, indeed, be denied that the election of Urban VI was canonically valid. The most distinguished lawyers of the day gave their deliberate decisions to this effect; but it had taken place under circumstances so peculiar that it was extremely easy to obscure or distort the facts. It was canonical, but it had been brought about only by the dissensions between the different parties, and was agreeable to none. The Cardinals respectively hoped to find a pliable instrument for their wishes and plans in the person of Urban VI. In the event, however, of this hope being disappointed, or of their discords being appeased, it was to be expected that the elected Pontiff would fall a victim to their reconciliation. Without a single genuine adherent in the College of Cardinals, he might soon see his supporters changed into opponents.

The new Pope was adorned by great and rare qualities; almost all his contemporaries are unanimous in praise of his purity of life, his simplicity and temperance. He was also esteemed for his learning, and yet more for the conscientious zeal with which he discharged his ecclesiastical duties. It was said that he lay down to rest at night with the Holy Scriptures in his hand, that he wore a hair-shirt, and strictly observed the fasts of the Church. He was, moreover, experienced in business. When Gregory XI had appointed him to supply the place of the absent Cardinal Vice-Chancellor, he had fulfilled the duties of the office in an exemplary manner, and had acquired an unusual knowledge of affairs. Austere and grave by nature, nothing was more hateful to him than simony, worldliness, and immorality in any grade of the clergy.

It was but natural that the elevation of such a man should call forth the brightest anticipations for the welfare of the Church. Cristoforo di Piacenza, writing to his Sovereign, Lodovico Gonzaga of Mantua, soon after the election of Urban, says: “I am sure that he will rule God’s Holy Church well, and I venture to say that she has had no such Pastor for a century and more, for he has no kindred, he is on very friendly terms with the Queen of Naples, he is conversant with the affairs of the world, and is moreover very clear-sighted and prudent”.

But Urban VI had one great fault, a fault fraught with evil consequences to himself, and yet more to the Church; he lacked Christian gentleness and charity. He was naturally arbitrary and extremely violent and imprudent, and when he came to deal with the burning ecclesiastical question of the day, that of reform, the consequences were disastrous.

The melancholy condition of the affairs of the Church at this period is clear from the letters of St. Catherine of Siena. The suggestions of reform which she had made repeatedly and with unexampled courage had unfortunately not been carried out. Gregory XI was far too irresolute to adopt energetic measures, and he also attached undue weight to the opinions of his relations, and of the French Cardinals, by whom he was surrounded; moreover, he was fully occupied by the war with Florence, and this was perhaps the chief cause of his inaction. Whether, if longer life had been granted to him, he would really have undertaken the amendment of the clergy, it is impossible to say. One thing is certain, that at the date of the new Pope's accession the work had still to be done.

It is to Urban’s honor that he at once took the matter in hand, beginning in the highest circles, where, in the opinion of all prudent men, the need was the most urgent. 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. Thus his already unstable position was soon rendered most precarious. 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. Nor did the Pope rest satisfied with words. His great desire was to eradicate simony, and that all business brought to Rome should be dispatched gratuitously, and without presents. This he more especially required from the Cardinals, who were bound to be models to the rest of the clergy. He publicly declared that he would not suffer anything savouring of simony, nor would he grant audience to anyone suspected of this sin. He particularly forbade the Cardinals to accept pensions, considering this practice to be a great hindrance to the peace of the Church. He expressed his intention of living as much as possible in Rome, and, as far as in him lay, of dying there. 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. On the contrary, these brutal manners embittered men's minds, and did much to frustrate his well-meant plans and actions.

St. Catherine of Siena was aware of the severity, with which Urban VI was endeavoring 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”. But instead of giving heed to these admonitions, Urban VI pursued his disastrous course, breaking rather than bending everything that opposed him. Relations between him and the Cardinals became more and more strained, for not one among these luxurious prelates had sufficient humility and patience to endure his domineering proceedings. Scenes of the most painful description frequently occurred, and, considering the incredible imprudence of Urban’s conduct, we cannot wonder at his success. Almost immediately after his election, St. Catherine had advised him to counteract the influence of the worldly-minded Frenchmen who formed the majority in the Sacred College, by the nomination of a number of virtuous and conscientious Cardinals, who might assist him with counsel and active support in the arduous duties of his office. But Urban let precious time go by without adding to their number. Instead of acting, he confined himself to saying, in presence of several of the French Cardinals, that it was his purpose to create a preponderating number of Romans and Italians. An eye-witness relates that at these words the Cardinal of Geneva grew pale and left the Papal presence.

A revolution in the Sacred College was evidently imminent, when Urban VI fell out with his political friends, the Queen of Naples and her husband, Duke Otto of Brunswick. He also quarrelled with Count Onorato Gaetani of Fondi. The exasperated Cardinals now knew where to find a staunch supporter. Hardly had the oppressive and unhealthy heats of summer set in at Rome, when the French, one after another, sought leave of absence “for reasons of health”. Their place of meeting was Anagni, and it was an open secret in Rome that they were resolved to revolt against a Pope, who had shown them so little regard, and who absolutely refused to transfer once more the Papal residence to France. If hopes were entertained of an amicable arrangement of differences, such hopes soon proved delusive. The Schism which had been impending ever since Clement V had fixed his seat in France, and which had almost broken out in the time of Urban V, and again in that of Gregory XI, now became a reality.

In vain did the Italian Cardinals, by order of the Pope, propose that the contest should be settled by a General Council; in vain did the most eminent lawyers and states­men of the day, such as Baldo di Perugia and Coluccio Salutato, maintain the validity of Urban’s election; in vain did St. Catherine of Siena conjure the rebellious Cardinals, by the Saviour’s Precious Blood, not to sever themselves from their Head and from the truth.

The plans of reform entertained by Urban VI filled the French King, Charles V, with wrath. The free and independent position, which the new Pope had from the first assumed was a thorn in the side of the King, who wished to bring back the Avignon days. Were Urban now to succeed in creating an Italian majority in the Sacred College, the return of the Holy See to its dependence on France would be greatly deferred, if not indeed altogether prevented. Charles V therefore secretly encouraged the Cardinals, promising them armed assistance, even at the cost of a cessation of hostilities with England, if they would take the final step, before which they still hesitated. Confident in his powerful support, the thirteen Cardinals assembled at Anagni, on the 9th August, 1378, published a manifesto, declaring Urban’s election to have been invalid, as resulting from the constraint exercised by the Roman populace, who had risen in insurrection, and proclaiming as a consequence the vacancy of the Holy See.

On the 20th September they informed the astonished world that the true Pope had been chosen in the person of Robert of Geneva, now Clement VII. The great Papal Schism (1378-1417), the most terrible of all imaginable calamities, thus burst upon Christendom, and the very centre of its unity became the occasion of the division of the Church.

It is not easy to form a correct judgment as to the proportion of blame due respectively to the Pope and the Cardinals. It would be at once unjust and historically incorrect to make Urban VI alone responsible; indeed, the principal share of guilt does not fall upon him. Reform was a matter of the most urgent necessity, and Urban VI was performing a sacred duty when he boldly attacked existing corruptions. If he overstepped the bounds of prudence, the fault, though a serious one, can readily be accounted for by the amount of the evil. Urban made this error worse by deferring the creation of new and worthy Cardinals until too late.

It must also be observed that the measure of reform undertaken by the Pope involved a complete breach with the fatal Avignon period, and this not only in an ecclesiastical, but also in a political sense.

If Urban sternly dismissed a certain number of the Cardinals and sent them back to their Bishoprics, his aim in this was not merely the removal of great and mischievous abuses, but also the diminution of French influence in the Papal Court, and of the pressure in favor of a return to Avignon. With the same objects in view the Pope purposed to choose Cardinals from all the different nations of Christendom. He wished to reassert that universal character of the Roman Church which had been so seriously impaired during the Avignon period; hence his friendly attitude towards England. With a clear sightedness surpassing that of any of his contemporaries, this energetic Pontiff perceived that if it would again fulfill its proper destiny, the Papacy must not belong to any one nation, and must pass beyond the narrow circle of French interests. Urban’s programme consisted in its liberation from the excessive influence of France. Resistance was inevitable, and its very violence shows the progress the evil had already made.

The guilt of the worldly-minded Cardinals far outweighed that of the Pope. By his want of charity and violence of temper, Urban doubtless gave them just cause for complaint. But instead of bearing with patience the weaknesses of the Pontiff they had chosen, instead of temperately opposing his unjust, or apparently unjust, measures, goaded on by the French King, who felt that his influence in ecclesiastical affairs was seriously threatened, they proceeded at once to extremities. They were bound to pay honor and obedience to the lawful Head of the Church, whose position they had for months fully recognized, and yet they took occasion from his personal failings to declare his election invalid, and, by the appointment of an Anti­pope, to cause a Schism in the Church. The conduct of the Cardinals is absolutely inexcusable. They constituted themselves at once accusers, witnesses, and judges; they sought to remove a less evil by the infinitely worse remedy of a double election and a Schism. St. Catherine of Siena’s scathing words were fully justified. “I have learned," she wrote to Urban, "that those devils in human form have made an election. They have not chosen a Vicar of Christ, but an Anti-Christ; never will I cease to acknowledge you, my dear Father, as the Representative of Christ upon earth. Now forward, Holy Father! go without fear into this battle, go with the armour of divine love to cover you, for that is a strong defense”.

No less pointed are the words addressed by the Saint to the recreant Princes of the Church. “Alas! to what have you come, since you did not act up to your high dignity! You were called to nourish yourselves at the breast of the Church; to be as flowers in her garden, to shed forth sweet perfume; as pillars to support the Vicar of Christ and his Bark; as lamps to serve for the enlightening of the world and the diffusion of the Faith. You yourselves know if you have accomplished that, to which you were called, and which it was your bounden duty to do. Where is your gratitude to the Bride who has nourished you? Instead of being her shield you have persecuted her. You are convinced of the fact that Urban VI is the true Pope, the Sovereign Pontiff, elected lawfully, not through fear, but by divine inspiration far more than through your human cooperation. So you informed us, and your words were true. Now you have turned your backs on him, as craven and miserable knights, afraid of your own shadow. What is the cause? The poison of selfishness which destroys the world! You, who were angels upon earth, have turned to the work of devils. You would lead us away to the evil which is in you, and seduce us into obedience to Anti-Christ. Unhappy men! You made truth known to us, and now you offer us lies. You would have us believe that you elected Pope Urban through fear; he who says this, lies. You may say, why do you not believe us? We, the electors, know the truth better than you do. But I answer, that you yourselves have shown me how you deal with truth. If I look at your lives, I look in vain for the virtue and holiness, which might deter you, for conscience sake, from falsehood. What is it that proves to me the validity of the election of Messer Bartolomeo, Archbishop of Bari, and now in truth Pope Urban VI? The evidence was furnished by the solemn function of his Coronation, by the homage which you have rendered him, and by the favors which you have asked and received from him. You have nothing but lies to oppose to these truths. 0 ye fools! a thousand times worthy of death! In your blindness you perceive not your own shame. If what you say were as true as it is false, must you not have lied, when you announced that Urban VI was the lawful Pope? Must you not have been guilty of simony, in asking and receiving favors from one, whose position you now deny?”

Such was indeed the case. The outbreak of the schism was chiefly due to the worldly Cardinals, stirred up by France, and longing to return thither. This condition of things was a result of the disastrous Avignon epoch, which accordingly is ultimately responsible for the terrible calamity which fell upon Christendom. “From France”, as a modern ecclesiastical historian well observes, “the evil proceeded, and France was the chief, and, in fact, essentially the only support of the schism, for other nations were involved in it merely by their connection with her. But the Gallican Church had to bear the weight of the yoke, which, in her folly, she had taken upon her shoulders. Her Bishoprics and Prebends became the prey of the needy phantom-Pope, and of his thirty-six Cardinals. He was himself the servant of the French Court, he had to put up with every indignity offered him by the arrogance of the courtiers, and to purchase their favour at the cost of the Church in France, thus subjected to the extortions of both Paris and Avignon”. How completely Clement VII looked on himself as a Frenchman, and how thoroughly all feeling for the liberty and independence of the Papacy had died within him, is clearly evidenced by the fact that, reserving for the Holy See only Rome, the Campagna, the Patrimony of St. Peter, and Sabina, he granted the greater part of the States of the Church to Duke Louis of Anjou to form the new kingdom of Adria, on condition that he should expel Urban VI. No former Pope had ventured thus to tamper with the possessions of the Church. Such an action was only possible to the “executioner of Csena, the man of broad conscience”, as the historian of the Schism calls him.

The rival claims to the lawful possession of the Tiara were now a matter of general discussion, and unfortunately, judgment too often depended on political considerations, rather than on an impartial examination of facts. It became evident that the question really underlying the whole contest was, whether French influence, which had become dominant in Europe since the downfall of the Hohenstaufens, should still control the Papacy, or whether the Papacy should resume its normal universal position. The French King, Charles V, perfectly understood the real gist of the matter. “I am now Pope!” he exclaimed, when the election of Clement VII was announced to him. The Anti-pope was not generally acknowledged, however, so rapidly as the French monarch could have desired. The University of Paris was at first neutral, and only espoused the cause of Clement VII under compulsion. The Spanish Kingdoms also began by endeavoring to maintain neutrality, so that his cause would probably have perished in its infancy, had it not been for the powerful support of Charles who spared no pains to win over all nations in any way subject to French influence. Within the next few years all the Latin nations, with the exception of Northern and Central Italy and Portugal, took the part of Clement VII, and Scotland, the ally of France, naturally also adhered to the French Pope.

The attitude of England was determined by the enmity existing between that country and France. When the French King declared for Clement VII, England energetically espoused the cause of Urban VI. Guido di Malesicco, the Legate of the Anti-pope, was not allowed to set foot on English soil, and King Richard even went so far as to confiscate the property of the Clementine Cardinals. England in general identified the struggle against Clement with the war against France; the split in the Church and the conflict between the two nations became blended together.

The Emperor, Charles IV, who had already looked with an unfavorable eye on the sojourn of the Popes at Avignon, was also a firm adherent of the Roman Pope. He was well aware that France aspired to dominion, not merely over the Papacy or the Empire, but over the whole world. Charles' example was followed by the greater portion of the Empire and by Louis of Anjou, King of Hungary and Poland, who was connected by marriage with the Princes of the House of Luxemburg, and was the inveterate enemy of Joanna of Naples. Ever since Charles had aided him against the Turks, and the Queen had become estranged from the Pope, he had forgotten that French blood ran in his veins. The northern kingdoms and most of the Italian States, with the exception of Naples, continued loyal to the Roman Pope.

It was much to the advantage of Urban VI, who in the meantime had created a new College of Cardinals, that his opponent was not able to maintain a position in Italy, where, nevertheless, the battle had to be decided. But now, as if struck by blindness, the Pope began to commit a series of errors. In the pursuit of his own personal ends he completely lost sight of the wider views, which ought to have directed his policy. The conflict with his powerful neighbor, Queen Joanna of Naples, became his leading idea. He excommunicated her as an obstinate partisan of the French Pope, declared her to have forfeited her throne, and allowed a Crusade to be preached against her. He entrusted the execution of his sentence to the crafty and ambitious Charles of Durazzo, invested him with the Kingdom of Naples on the 1st June, 1381, and crowned him on the following day. In return for these favors, Charles had to promise to hand over Capua, Caserta, Aversa, Nocera, Amalfi, and other places to the Pope's nephew, a thoroughly worthless and immoral man. While thus providing for the aggrandizement of his family, Urban did not scruple to despoil churches and altars of their treasures, in order to obtain the resources necessary for the expedition against Naples. But punishment soon over­took him. Charles at once took possession of the Kingdom of Naples, but seemed to have quite forgotten his promise. Urban was beside himself, and resolved to go in person to Naples and assert his authority. Notwithstanding the opposition of his Cardinals, he carried this unfortunate project into execution in the autumn of 1383. The result, as might have been expected, was only to add fresh bitterness to the conflict, and to bring about Urban’s complete discomfiture. The monarch, who owed his crown to the Pope, treated him from the first as his prisoner. A brief reconciliation was followed by still more violent discord, and the Pope was besieged at Nocera. Here he exposed his high dignity to ridicule, by proceeding four times a day to the window, and with bell, book, and candle solemnly excommunicating the besiegers. And as if to fill up the measure of the abjection and misery of the Holy See, he, at this very time, fell out with his own Cardinals. Embittered by the irksome insecurity of their sojourn at Nocera, and by the violence and obstinacy of the Pope, who, deaf to their advice, continued to involve himself and the Church in fresh perplexities, several of them got an opinion drawn up by a Canonist, Bartolino di Piacenza, to the effect that a Pope, who by his incapacity or blind obstinacy should endanger the Church, might be placed under the guardian­ship of some Cardinals and made dependent on their approval in all matters of importance. They accordingly determined to take forcible possession of his person, but Urban, being forewarned, caused the conspirators to be seized, imprisoned, tortured, and ultimately put to death. The cruel harshness of the aged Pope greatly injured his reputation. Two of his Cardinals went over to the French Pope, by whom they were gladly welcomed. It was a terrible calamity for the Church, that just at a time when Princes and people were bent on their own political interest, the severe and obstinate character of Urban prepared so much evil for himself and his adherents, and that no power was able to turn him from his course. He held with unbending determination to his unfortunate Neapolitan project, and died unlamented at Rome on 15th October, 1389.

Christendom had never yet witnessed such a Schism; all timid souls were cast into a sea of doubt, and even courageous men like Abbot Ludolf of Sagan, its historian, bewailed it day and night.

Anti-popes, indeed, had already arisen on several occasions, but in most cases they had very soon passed away, for, owing their elevation to the secular power, it bore more or less clearly on its very face the stamp of violence and injustice. But in the present instance all was different: unlike the Schisms caused by the Hohenstaufens or Louis of Bavaria, that of 1378 was the work of the Cardinals, the highest of the clergy. And, moreover, the election of Urban VI had taken place under circumstances so peculiar that it was easy to call it in question. It was impossible for those not on the spot to investigate it in all its details, and the fact, that all who had taken part in it subsequently renounced their allegiance, was well calculated to inspire doubt and perplexity. It is extremely difficult for those who study the question in the present day with countless documents before them, and the power of contemplating the further development of the Schism, to estimate the difficulties of contemporaries who sought to know which of the two Popes had a right to their obedience. The extreme confusion is evidenced by the fact that canonized Saints are found amongst the adherents of each of the rivals. St. Catherine of Siena, and her namesake of Sweden, stand opposed to St. Vincent Ferrer and the Blessed Peter of Luxemburg, who acknowledged the French Pope. All the writings of the period give more or less evidence of the conflicting opinions which prevailed; and upright men afterwards confessed, that they had been unable to find out which was the true Pope.

To add to the complications, the obedience of Germany to Urban VI and that of France to Clement VII was far from complete, for individuals in both countries attached themselves to the Pope, from whom they expected to gain most. The allegiance of the Holy Roman Empire to Urban was evidently of an unstable character, since ecclesiastics in Augsburg fearlessly, and without hindrance, accepted charges and benefices from the hands of the Anti­pope and his partisans, and itinerant preachers publicly asserted the validity of his claim. Peter Suchenwirt, in a poem written at this period, describes the distress, which the growing anarchy within the Church was causing in men's minds, and earnestly beseeches God to end it. "There are two Popes", he says; "which is the right one?

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 bewail'd;

As you may read the story told

Upon the sacred page.

Christ gave St. Peter pow'r to bind,

And also pow'r to loose;

Now men are binding here and there,

Lord, loose our bonds we pray.

Our sins, indeed, had deserved this punishment;

the world is full of injustice and falsehood:

Never have hatred, pride, and greed,

Had pow'r so great as now.

"Men are sunk in vices and crimes;

it is in vain to look for peace and justice.

The disastrous year of 1378 took an Emperor and a Pope from the world;

we have now a Pope too many and an Emperor too few.

God alone can put an end to this misery;

and the poet concludes with the prayer

"To Christendom its chiefs restore,

Both its Pope and its Emperor,

Thus throughout the world shall be,

End made of wrong and misery."

It has been well observed that we can scarcely form an idea of the deplorable condition to which Europe was reduced by the schism. Uncertainty as to the title of its ruler is ruinous to a nation; this schism affected the whole of Christendom, and called the very existence of the Church in question. The discord touching its Head necessarily permeated the whole body of the Church; in many Dioceses two Bishops were in arms for the possession of the Episcopal throne, two Abbots in conflict for an abbey. The consequent confusion was indescribable. We cannot wonder that the Christian religion became the derision of Jews and Mahometans.

The amount of evil wrought by the schism of 1378, the longest known in the history of the Papacy can only be estimated, when we reflect that it occurred at a moment, when thorough reform in ecclesiastical affairs was a most urgent need. This was now utterly out of the question, and, indeed, all evils which had crept into ecclesiastical life were infinitely increased. Respect for the Holy See was also greatly impaired, and the Popes became more than ever dependent on the temporal power, for the schism allowed each Prince to choose which Pope he would acknowledge. In the eyes of the people, the simple fact of a double Papacy must have shaken the authority of the Holy See to its very foundations. It may truly be said that these fifty years of schism prepared the way for the great Apostacy of the sixteenth century.

It is not within the scope of the present work to recount all the vicissitudes of the warfare between the claimants of the Papal throne - for Urban VI received immediately a successor. Neither side would yield, and the confusion of Christendom daily increased and pervaded all classes of society. The Cardinals of the rival Popes were at open variance, and in many dioceses there were two Bishops. This was the case in Breslau, Mayence, Liege, Basle, Metz Constance, Coire, Lubeck, Dorpat, and other places, and even the Religious and Military Orders were drawn into the schism.

The conflict was carried on with unexampled violence.

While the adherents of the Roman Pope reprobated the Mass offered by the “Clementines”, the “Clementines” in their turn looked on that of the “Urbanists” as a blasphemy; in many cases public worship was altogether discontinued. “The depths of calamity”, as St. Catherine of Siena said, “overwhelmed the Church”. “Mutual hatred”, writes a biographer of the Saint, “lust of power, the worst intrigues flourished amidst clergy and laity alike, and who could suppress these crimes? God alone could help, and He led the Church through great and long-continued tribulation hack to unity, and made it plain to all that men may indeed in their wickedness wound her, but they cannot destroy her, for she bears within a divine principle of life”. Therefore, even amid the direst storm of discord, St. Catherine could write, “I saw how the Bride of Christ was giving forth life, for she contains such living power that no one can kill her; I saw that she was dispensing strength and light, and that no one can take them from her, and I saw that her fruit never diminishes, but always increases”.

But this did not lessen the Saint’s distress. “Every age”, she wrote to a nun, “has its afflictions, but you have not seen, and no one has seen a time so troubled as the present. Look, my daughter, and your soul must be filled with grief and bitterness, look at the darkness which has come upon the Church; human help is unavailing. You and all the servants of God must take Heaven by storm; it is a time for watching, and not for sleeping; the foe must be vanquished by vigils, by tears, by groans and sighs, and by humble, persevering prayer”.

But St. Catherine did not content herself with merely praying for the Pope. After the failure of her efforts to nip the fearful evil of the Schism in the bud, she put forth all her powers to secure the victory of justice, the cause of the Roman Pope. Letters full of warning, supplication, and menace were addressed by her to various individuals; she wrote to the Pope and the Cardinals as well as to the most illustrious Princes. Her influence aided Urban to maintain his position in Italy and contributed to the defeat of the French Anti-pope in that country. But she was not permitted to witness the restoration of unity to the Church, for on the 29th April, 1380, she died, full of grief for the disorders due to the Schism, but with an unshaken confidence in the “eternal future of the Church”."

The literature of this period, a field as yet but little explored, testifies to the general distress caused by the Schism. Touching lamentations in both prose and verse portray the desolation and confusion of the time, and this was aggravated by epidemics. “Whose heart”, cries Heinrich von Langenstein, “is so hardened as not to be moved by the unspeakable sufferings of his Mother, the Church?” In order to give yet more force to his complaint that the spirit of unity and concord has forsaken Christendom, he brings the Church herself forward and puts into her mouth the words of Jeremias, associated by the Liturgy with the Dolours of our Lady: “See if there be sorrow like my sorrow”. The celebrated Canonist, Giovanni di Lignano, in a treatise in support of the legitimacy of Urban VI, echoes Langenstein’s words. The chronicler of St. Denis mentions a comet which appeared at this time with its tail turned to the west, as portending war, insurrection, and treason. He foretold that a Pope was to be besieged in Avignon, and a Pope driven from Rome. The pious Giovanni dalle Celle, in despair at the contest which deprived the very centre of the Church of its universality, writes: “They say that the world must be renewed; I say, it must be destroyed”. Amongst writings of a similar nature we must not omit the frequently quoted treatise addressed to Urban VI by the celebrated Archbishop of Prague, Johann von Jenzenstein, who depicts the abjection of the Church in striking terms.

From these complaints it is evident how keenly the need of a supreme Judge, Guardian, and Guide in ecclesiastical affairs was felt.

Naturally, men did not stop at mere expressions of sorrow, but went on to inquire into the origin of the evil which was bringing such dishonor on the Church. The most clear-sighted contemporary writers point to the corruption of the clergy, to their inordinate desire for money and possessions - in short, to their selfishness - as the root of all the misery. This is the key note of Nicolas de Clemangis’ celebrated book, “On the Ruin of the Church” (written in 1401); and in a sermon delivered before the Council of Constance, the preacher insisted that “money was the origin of the Schism, and the root of all the confusion”.

It cannot, however, be too often repeated that the ecclesiastical corruption was in great measure a consequence of the Avignon period, and of the influence which State politics had acquired in matters of Church government. The rupture, produced by the recreant French Cardinals, was, in reality, nothing but the conflict of two nations for the possession of the Papacy; the Italians wished to recover it, and the French would not let it be wrested from them.

Those who raised their voices to complain of the corruption and confusion of Christendom were not always men of real piety or moral worth. In many cases they might with advantage have begun by reforming their own lives. Some of them went so far as to charge all the evils of the day upon the ecclesiastical authorities, and stirred up laity and clergy against each other; such persons only destroyed that which was still standing. Others, again, clamoured for reform, while themselves doing nothing to promote it. But at this time, as at all periods in the history of the Church, men were found who, without making much noise or lamentation, laboured in the right way - that is, -within the limits laid down by the Church - for the thorough amendment of all that was amiss.

Of this stamp was Gerhard Groot of Deventer (born 1340, died 1384). This excellent man, whom John Busch and Thomas a Kempis rightly name a light of the Church, endeavored to spread abroad a true idea of the high vocation of the clergy, to point out to Christian people the way of salvation, and to propagate genuine piety in the hearts of his fellow men. Having received deacon’s orders, he went through Holland, preaching missions in the towns of Zwolle, Deventer, and Kempen. He usually preached three times a day; people came from miles to hear his inspired discourses. The Churches were for the most part too small to contain the congregations, and he frequently preached in the churchyards. His language was not that of the schools, but of the heart, and therefore it reached the hearts of his hearers. Moreover, his life was the practical exemplification of his doctrine. His whole work may be briefly summed up as the “promotion of the imitation of Jesus Christ”.

Much was gained when by degrees a circle of disciples gathered round this Apostolic man; they lived under his direction and that of his friend, Florentius Radewins, earning their bread by transcribing pious books, and employing themselves also in the religious instruction of the people. By the advice of Florentius, they put their earnings together and lived in common under a head elected by themselves. With Gerhard's assistance, Florentius drew up a rule of life and ordinances for the Community. All promised to obey him as their Superior and to remain for life. Vows, in the proper sense of the word, were not taken, for the new Community was not as yet recognized as a religious Congregation by the Holy See. Each member had also to promise that he would contribute to the general support by manual labour, especially by writing. Their object was to lead the life of the early Christians – “the Life of Perfection and of Imitation of Christ”. The principle of self-support, on which this community was founded, distinguished it from the existing religious houses, which made the Divine worship, prayer, and religious instruction their practical aim, and derived their support from endowments or the gifts of the faithful.

Such was the origin of the celebrated community of the “Brothers of the Common life” (Fraterherren). The fervent words of Thomas a Kempis describe their further progress. “Humility, the first of all virtues, was here practised from the least to the greatest. This makes the earthly house a Paradise, and transforms mortal men into heavenly pearls, living stones in the Temple of God. There, under holy discipline, flourished obedience, the mother of virtues, and the lamp of spiritual knowledge. The highest wisdom consisted in obeying without delay, and it was a grave fault to disregard the counsel or even the slightest word of the Superior. The love of God and of men burned within and without, so that the hard hearts of sinners melted into tears when they heard their holy words; those who came cold, went away inflamed by the fire of the discourse and full of joy, and resolved for the future to sin no more. There was a shining store of armour for the spiritual warfare against each separate vice; old and young alike learned to fight bravely against Satan, the flesh, and the deceits of the world. The memory of the ancient Fathers and the fervor of the Egyptian solitaries, which had long lain half buried, was brought to life again, and the religious state rose, in conformity with the traditions of the primitive Church, to the highest perfection! There were heard pious exhortations to the practice of virtue, and the most holy and sorrowful passion of our Saviour Jesus Christ was the subject of frequent and devout meditation. We know that from the attentive remembrance of His Passion comes healing for our souls; it has power to kill the poisonous bite of the serpent, to moderate the passions of the heart, and to raise the dull soul from earth to Heaven by the imitation of the Crucified”.

Gerhard Groot and his foundation had soon to encounter much opposition, especially from the Mendicant Friars. Accordingly, a very short time before his early death, he urgently recommended his friend Florentius to adopt the rule of a religious order. His wish was carried out in the year 1386­1387, when a house, following the rule of St. Augustine, was established at Windesheim, three hours' journey to the south of Zwolle, and six members of Florentius’ Brotherhood took possession of it. This foundation deserves to be particularly mentioned, even in a History of the Popes, for monastic reform and the revival of faith flowed thence like a mighty stream, first through Holland and then through the whole of Northern Germany, the Rhine country, and Franconia. It was established as a Congregation in 1395, and its Statutes were immediately confirmed by Pope Boniface IX. The disciples of Groot did much to promote the real reform of the clergy, and the amelioration of Catholic life in Germany and the Netherlands. The services rendered by the Congregation of Windesheim and the Fralerherren in raising the standard of popular instruction, and promoting the spread of religious literature in the vernacular, have been recognized by the best judges. It is acknowledged that they were not behind their age in regard to scientific attainments, and that their method in classical studies was excellent. The rapid increase of this congregation, from the year 1386, when the first six brothers took possession of mud huts at Windesheim, and the wonderful renovation of monastic life which it initiated, form one of the brightest spots in an age so full of sorrow.

Among the darker shades of the picture of this period, we must count the formation of sectarian Conventicles by laymen and the increase of false prophecies. In regard to the first of these evils, it has been well observed that times like that of the great Schism are fraught, for earnest natures, with a special danger, in proportion to their dissatisfaction with the provision for their spiritual needs, made by those who represent the Church. The false prophecies, on account of their wide diffusion, demand a more detailed examination. The difficulty of ascertaining which Pope was the true one, and the anxiety and perplexity of conscience which afflicted all thoughtful souls, in consequence of the chaotic state of the Church, led to a notable multiplication of visionaries and prophets. There was a widespread expectation of the coming of Anti-Christ, and the approaching end of the world; an Englishman, writing probably in the year 1390, even maintained that the Pope was the Anti-Christ of the Apocalypse. By means of another most dangerous class of prophecies, political and heretical agitators, the latter of whom were at this time peculiarly audacious, endeavored to turn the sad condition of the Church to profit for their own purposes. A host of these predictions, which aggravated the general confusion, are inspired by the false ascetical principle that the clergy and the Church ought to return to Apostolic poverty.

Views of this kind are forcibly enunciated in the celebrated work of the so-called hermit, Telesphorus, who, born, by his own account, near Cosenza, gave out that he lived in the neighborhood of Thebes. His prophecy claims our attention, because, as countless manuscripts bear witness, it enjoyed a wider circulation than any other writing of the kind.

Telesphorus starts from the idea that the Schism is a punishment for the sins and crimes of the Roman Church and the clergy in general. Its conclusion, he says, is to be expected in the year 1393, when the Anti-Pope (the Italian Pope) will be slain in Perugia. This event will be followed by a complete renovation of the Church and the return of the clergy to Apostolic poverty, but the persecution of the clergy will continue. A new Emperor and a new Pope will then appear, and the latter, the “Pastor Angelicus”, will deprive the Germans of the Imperial Crown and bestow it on the French King Charles; he will recover possession of Jerusalem, and the union with the Greek Church will be accomplished. The burden of the prophecy of Telesphorus is the transfer of the Imperial dignity to the Royal House of France; it is nothing but a programme of French hopes and political aspirations, set forth in the prophetical form so popular at the period.

The wide diffusion of this prediction and its anti-German character, induced the “most eminent German theologian of the day”, Heinrich von Langenstein (Henricus de Hassia), to write a controversial work in reply. The worthy Hessian scholar begins by disapproving the existing rage for prophecies, and specially condemns the predictions of Joachim and Cyrillus, from which Telesphorus had borrowed. His position throughout is that of the celebrated Theological School of Paris, which made no account of these predictions, and looked upon those of the Abbot Joachim as mere guesses which had nothing super­natural about them, while his treatment of many dogmatic questions was far from orthodox.

Langenstein strongly opposes the principle laid down by Telesphorus, that the clergy ought to be deprived of all their wealth and possessions. He justly observes that it would be most dangerous to teach the powerful laity, already unfavourably disposed towards ecclesiastics, that they had a right, under pretext of reform, to take possession of Church property, and that the abuse of riches by the clergy does not furnish a ground for deprivation. If this were so, the property of laymen must also be taken from them, since most of them make a worse use of it. If, however, the Religious Orders were to be suppressed and despoiled, as Telesphorus predicts, the consequence, Langenstein maintains, would be, not the reformation, but the complete ruin of the Church.

The so-called Telesphorus was not the only instance of a false prophet. Langenstein’s work clearly proves their number to have been very considerable. He devotes a whole chapter to those, who were induced by the Schism to come forward and to foretell, by the course of the stars or their own conjectures, the triumph of one or other of the Popes and the end of the contest. While Telesphorus supported France, Gamaleon predicted the renovation of the Church after the conquest of Rome by the German Emperor and the transfer of the Papacy to Germany. In the excited state of public feeling, these pretentious prophets, in an uncritical age, found ready credence. The predictions were copied out and illuminated as if they had been revelations of the Holy Spirit. In short, there was a very deluge of prophecies regarding the termination of the Schism, and all of them ended in nought.

The crisis which the Church passed through at this juncture, is the most grievous recorded in her history. Just when the desperate struggle between the rival Popes had thrown everything into utter confusion, when ecclesiastical revenues and favours served almost exclusively as the reward of partisans, and when worldliness had reached its climax, heretical movements arose in England, France, Italy, Germany, and, above all, in Bohemia, and threatened the very constitution of the Church. This was most natural; the smaller the chance of reform being effected by the Church, the more popular and active became the reform movement not directed by her; the higher the region that needed, but resisted reform, the more popular did this movement become.

Germany was disturbed by the Beghards, and also more especially by the Waldenses, whose doctrines had taken root in Bavaria and Austria during the latter half of the thirteenth century, and, notwithstanding constant repression, had become widely diffused. The movement reached its height in Germany in the last thirty years of the fourteenth century - the disastrous time of the Great Schism. It was not only in Southern Germany and the Rhine country, the two centres of Mediaeval heresy, that a great proportion of the population had embraced the Waldensian doctrine, it had also made its way into the north and the furthest east of the empire. Waldensian congregations were to be found in Thuringia, the March of Brandenburg, Bohemia, Moravia, Silesia, Pomerania, Prussia, and Poland. That the Waldenses were very numerous in the Austrian dominions at the beginning of the last decade of the fourteenth century is proved by the fact that they had no less than twelve superintendents. In Southern Germany things had by this time come to such a pass that the Celestine Monk, Peter of Munich, appointed Inquisitor for the Diocese of Passau in 139o, felt that his life was in danger, and urgently implored the aid of the secular power against the heretics, who threatened him with fire and sword. The condition of the neighboring Diocese of Ratisbon was similar to that of Passau.

Too little attention has hitherto been bestowed on the revolutionary spirit of hatred of the Church and the clergy, (many of whom were, alas, unworthy of their high calling,) which had taken hold of the masses in different parts of Germany. Together with the revolt against the Church, a social revolution was openly advocated. A chronicler, writing at Mayence in the year 1401, declares that the cry of "Death to the Priests," which had long been whispered in secret, was now the watchword of the day.

The reappearance in many parts of Germany of the Pantheistic Sect of Free Thought furnishes an example of the aberrations to which heresy leads. The recently-discovered report of proceedings, taken against an adherent of this sect at Eichstatt in 1381, shows us the awful danger which threatened all ecclesiastical and social order from this quarter. The Eichstatt heretic maintained that, by devout worship and contemplation of the Godhead, he had come to be one with God, absolutely perfect and incapable of sinning. The practical consequences which the accused had drawn from his imagined perfection were of a most suspicious nature, and are calculated to substantiate many of the charges, hitherto deemed unjust and incredible, which Mediaeval writers have brought against the sectaries of their day; for, in the opinion of the accused, neither the precepts of the Church nor the laws of common morality, are binding on one who is endowed with the spirit of freedom and perfection; even the gravest breaches of the sixth commandment are, in his case, no sin, so far as he merely follows the impulse of nature; and so firmly is he persuaded of his right to do “what gives him pleasure”, that he declares he is permitted to put to death those who oppose him, even if they were a thousand in number.

The appearance of John Wyclif in England was a matter of far greater moment than heresies of this kind, which were forcibly repressed by the Inquisition. The errors of the Apocalyptics and the Waldenses, of Marsiglio, Occam, and others, were all concentrated in his sect, which prepared the transition to a new heretical system of a universal character, namely, Protestantism. His teaching is gross pantheistic realism, involving a Predestinarianism which annihilates moral freedom. Everything is God. An absolute necessity governs all, even the action of God Himself. Evil happens by necessity; God constrains every creature that acts, to the performance of each action. Some are predestined to glory, others to damnation. The prayer of the reprobate is of no avail, and the predestined are none the worse for the sins which God compels them to commit. Wyclif builds his church on this theory of predestination. It is, in his view, the society of the elect. As an external institution, accordingly, it disappears, to become merely an inward association of souls, and no one can know who does or does not belong to it. The only thing certain is that it always exists on earth, although it may be sometimes only composed of a few poor laymen, scattered in different countries. Wyclif began by a conditional recognition of the Pope, but afterwards came to regard him, not as the Vicar of Christ, but as Anti-Christ. He taught that honor paid to the Pope was idolatry, of a character all the more hideous and blasphemous, inasmuch as divine honor was given to a member of Lucifer, an idol, worse than a painted log of wood, because of the great wickedness he contains. Wyclif further teaches that the Church ought to be without property, and to return to the simplicity of Apostolic times. The Bible alone, without tradition, is the sole source of faith. No temporal or ecclesiastical superior has authority, when he is in a state of mortal sin. Indulgences, confession, extreme unction and orders, are all rejected by Wyclif, who even attacks the very centre of all Christian worship, the Most Holy Sacrament of the Altar.

These doctrines, which involved a revolution, not only in the Church, but also in politics and society, made their way rapidly in England. Countless disciples, - poor clergy whom Wyclif sent forth in opposition to the "rich Church which had fallen away to the devil," - propagated them through the length and breadth of the land. These itinerant preachers, in a comparatively short time, aroused a most formidable movement against the property of the Church, the Pope, and the Bishops. But a change suddenly took place. King Richard the Second's marriage with Anne, the daughter of the King of Bohemia, was a great blow to the cause of Wyclif in England. The Courts of Westminster and of Prague were of one mind in regard to the affairs of the Church and other important political questions, and would have done anything rather than show favor to Wyclif and his companions, or to France and her anti-Pope, Clement VII.

On the other hand, as this marriage led to an increase of intercourse between England and Bohemia, Wyclif’s ideas found entrance into the latter country. English students frequented the University of Prague, and Bohemians that of Oxford; and Wyclif’s treatises were widely spread in Bohemia. John Huss, the leader of the Bohemian movement, was not merely much influenced, but absolutely dominated by these ideas. Recent investigations have furnished incontestable evidence that, in the matter of doctrine, Huss owed everything to Wyclif, whose works he often plagiarized with astonishing simplicity.

The opinions of the Bohemian leader, like those of Wyclif, must necessarily have led in practice to a social revolution, and one of which the end could not be foreseen, since the right to possess property was made dependent on religious opinion. Only “Believers”, that is to say, the followers of Huss, could hold it, and this right lasted as long as their convictions accorded with those that prevailed in the country. Argument is needless to show that such a theory destroys all private rights, and the attempt to make these principles - so plausibly deduced from the doctrines of the Christian religion - serve as the rule for the foundation of a new social order, must lead to the most terrible consequences. The subsequent wars of the Hussites evidently owed their peculiarly sanguinary character in great part to these views. If Huss declared war against social order, he also called in question all civil authority, when he espoused Wyclif’s principle, that no man who had committed a mortal sin could be a temporal ruler, a bishop, or a prelate, “because his temporal or spiritual authority, his office and his dignity would not be approved by God”.

Whether Huss realized the consequences of such doctrines, or merely followed his master, may remain an open question; one thing, however, the most enthusiastic admirer of the Czech reformer cannot dispute - namely, that doctrines which must have rendered anarchy permanent in Church and State imperatively required to be met by some action on the part of the civil and ecclesiastical authorities. The results of the opinions promulgated by Huss soon became apparent in the Bohemian Revolution in which the idea of a democratic Republic and of a social system based on communistic principles took practical form.

The international danger of Czech radicalism, which also soon made itself "terribly apparent in Germany was exposed in clear and forcible terms on New Year's Day, 1424, by an envoy of the Cardinal Legate in his address to the Polish King. “The object of my mission”, he said, “is the glory of God, the cause of the Faith and of the Church, and the salvation of human society. A large proportion of the heretics maintain that all things ought to be in common, and that no tribute, tax, or obedience should be rendered to superiors; a doctrine by which civilization would be annihilated and all government abolished. They aim at the forcible destruction of all Divine and human rights, and it will come to pass that neither kings and princes in their kingdoms and dominions, citizens in their cities, nor even people in their own houses, will be secure from their insolence. This abominable heresy not only attacks the Faith and the Church, hut, impelled by the devil, makes war upon humanity at large, w hose rights it assails and destroys”.

On the death of Urban VI (October 15, 1389), the fourteen Cardinals of his obedience assembled in Rome for the election of a new Pope. This was the first vacancy of the Holy See which had occurred since the outbreak of the Schism. The French Court endeavored to prevent an election, but the Roman Cardinals, perceiving that Clement VII, with whom the Schism began, had no intention of retiring, did not consider it consistent with their duty to deliver the Church completely over to the Avignon Anti-Pope. Accordingly, on the 22nd November, 1389, a new Roman Pope, Boniface IX (1389-1404) was chosen, who, in order to defend himself against the oppressive exactions by which Clement VII was exhausting the countries subject to his obedience, was compelled to resort to new financial expedients. Under him, Rome lost her last relics of municipal independence. The opposition of the University of Paris was unable to hinder a fresh election on the death of Clement VII, in 1394, and the astute Pedro de Luna took the name of Benedict XIII. The numerous endeavors for unity made during this period form one of the saddest chapters in the history of the Church. Neither Pope had sufficient magnanimity to put an end to the terrible state of affairs, and all efforts to arrange matters were, without exception, frustrated, till it seemed as if Christendom would have to get accustomed to two Popes and two Courts. On the death of Boniface IX the Roman Cardinals elected Cosimo dei Migliorati, a Neapolitan, aged sixty-five, henceforth known as Innocent VII.

The short Pontificate (1404-1406) of this ardent lover of science and the arts of peace is, however, deserving of notice as exemplifying the interest taken by the Papacy in intellectual culture, even under the most adverse circumstances. In order duly to appreciate the merits of the pacific Innocent VII in this matter, we must realize the troubled state of Rome, and the perplexities in which he was involved by the policy of King Ladislaus of Naples and the machinations of the crafty Anti-Pope. Amidst difficulties so immense, Innocent VII formed the project of rescuing the Roman University, founded by Boniface VIII, from the decay into which it had fallen during recent years of confusion. On the 1st of September, 1406, he issued a Bull, declaring his intention of bringing back to Rome the study of the Sciences and liberal Arts which, even apart from their utility, are the greatest ornament of a city. He therefore summoned to the Roman University the most competent Professors of every Science. Not merely Canon and Civil Law, but also Medicine, Philosophy, Logic, and Rhetoric were to be studied in this school. “Finally”, says Innocent VII, “that nothing may be wanting to our Institution, there will be a Professor who will give the most perfect instruction in the Greek language and literature”.

The terms of the Bull, and the enthusiastic praise of the Eternal City with which it concludes, reflect the increasing influence of the Humanistic tendency in the Roman Court. “There is not on earth”, it says, “a more eminent and illustrious city than Rome, nor one in which the studies we desire to restore have longer flourished, for here was Latin literature founded; here Civil Law was committed to writing and delivered to the nations; here also is the seat of Canon Law. Every kind of wisdom and learning took birth in Rome, or was received in Rome from the Greeks. While other cities teach foreign sciences, Rome teaches only that which is her own”.

But a few months after the publication of this Bull Innocent VII died, and accordingly everything was brought to a standstill.

The times were certainly little favorable to the Muses, and yet Humanism continued to advance and make its way into the Papal Court. From the beginning of the fifteenth century we find Humanists in the Papal service no longer isolated individuals, as during the Avignon period, but in great and ever-increasing numbers, and among them, some whose appointment throws a melancholy light on the circumstances of the time. The most striking instance of this kind is that of the well-known Poggio, who became one of the Apostolic Secretaries during the Pontificate of Boniface IX. Poggio held this very lucrative post under eight different Popes, and at the same time filled other offices. For half a century he was employed, with sundry interruptions; but his frivolous nature was incapable of any real affection for the Church or for any one of the Popes whom he served. He certainly wrote a violent invective against Felix V, the Pope of the Council of Basle, but it would be a mistake to suppose that his pen was guided by zeal for the Church. This may, indeed, be measured by the manner in which he wrote of the death of Jerome of Prague. His animosity to Felix V was simply and solely because the Roman Court, by which he lived, was threatened; he was doubtless as indifferent to the contest between the two Popes as to the heresy of the Hussites.

That such a man should have been able to retain his position in the Papal service is to be explained by the sad confusion consequent on the Schism. From the moment when the Parisian Doctors, with their ready pens, and the learned men of many other Universities had taken part in the conflict which was distracting Christendom, the Popes were compelled to look about them for new literary champions, and the frequent negotiations for the restoration of unity made it absolutely necessary that they should have men of talent and education at their disposal. The Humanists offered themselves to meet the need, and many of them eagerly sought lucrative places in the Papal Chancery. This, however, cannot excuse the imprudence with which some of the Popes gave appointments to adherents of the false Renaissance. But in this case, as in many others, circumstances must be taken into account, if we would form a correct judgment. Humanism had already attained great political importance. The time had come when political discourses and state papers, clothed in the grand periods of Ciceronian Latin, exercised an irresistible influence over readers and hearers, producing their effect rather by the beauty of the form than by the substance, or, at any rate, by means of the form obtaining an easier access for the meaning.* When, even in the smaller Courts, the style of the new school was adopted, how could the Papal Chancery have remained behind The Humanists had raised themselves to the position of leaders of public opinion; they were well aware of it, and often assumed Imperial airs. The Papacy surrounded on all sides by enemies, was obliged, like the other powers of Italy, to take these facts into account. The terror which the Humanists could inspire even in the most powerful tyrants, is evidenced by an expression of Duke Gian Galeazzo Visconti of Milan: “A letter of Coluccio Salutato’s”, he said, “can do more injury than a thousand Florentine knights”. The effects of the letters written by this most bitter enemy of the Popes must have been deeply felt by Gregory XI, and were doubtless long remembered by his successors. Another circumstance is also to be taken into account. Elaborate discourses were so much the fashion that they seemed indispensable on such occasions as the conclusion of a peace, the reception of an Embassy, or any public or private solemnity. Courts and Governments and, in some cases, even wealthy families had their official orators. In the present day music is almost always the accompaniment of a feast; at that time a Latin discourse was the best entertainment that could be provided for a company of cultured men. It will easily be understood that the Popes deemed it impossible to do without a literary man like Poggio, whose pen was readier than that of any of his contemporaries.

In the time of Innocent VII, Lionardo Bruni, whose name has been repeatedly mentioned in these pages, entered the Papal service. Unlike Poggio, he was an adherent of the Christian Renaissance. The circumstances of his appointment are characteristic of the time. Bruni was recommended to the Pope by Poggio and Coluccio Salutato, and Innocent VII wished at once to nominate him as Papal Secretary. But an adverse party at the Roman Court objected to Bruni’s appointment on the ground of his too great youth, and supported another candidate. It so happened that, at this very time, important Papal briefs had to be prepared with the greatest possible haste, and the Pope offered the post as a reward to the candidate who should best acquit himself of the task. The drafts of the briefs were read in a Consistory before the Pope and the Cardinals, and Bruni gained a decided victory over his rival. From the first year of the Pontificate of Innocent VII, whose example was afterwards followed by Eugenius IV, Nicholas V, and other Popes, we find the well-known Pietro Paolo Vergerio installed as Secretary in the Roman Court. The marvelously rapid growth of the influence of this school in Rome appears in the fact that this Humanist was appointed to deliver a discourse on the Union of the Church before the Cardinals assembled in Consistory previous to the election of Gregory XII, and that he was not afraid to say very hard things. Subsequently, it became more and more the custom to employ the Humanists, on account of their superior cultivation, in the service of the Popes, both in the Chancery and in Diplomatic situations, and the time was not distant when classical proficiency was the surest road to ecclesiastical preferment. Under Innocent VII's successor, Gregory XII (1406-1415), fresh Humanists, amongst whom was Antonio Loschi of Vicenza, were won to the service of the Papal Court. He composed a new formula for the official correspondence, with the object of introducing a Ciceronian style of Latin. Although he was not able completely to overcome the difficulties involved in the legal nature of the formulas, yet it is the opinion of competent judges that a marked improvement in the Latinity of the Court, especially in those documents less fettered by legal phraseology, is to be dated from his time. Flavio Biondo, one of the most laborious and virtuous of the younger generation of secretaries, expressly said that Loschi had been his instructor in the duties of his office.

But it is now time to return to the troubles of the Schism. The crisis was drawing near. It came in the Pontificate of Gregory XII.

During the earlier years of the Schism, efforts had been made to establish the legality of the one, and the illegality of the other Pope, by means of arguments founded on history and on Canon Law, but in consequence of French intrigues the question had only become more and more obscured. As time went on, conscientious men, who anxiously strove to understand the rights of the case, were unable to decide between claims which seemed to be so equally balanced, while in other cases passion took no account of proofs, and power trampled them under foot. Despair took possession of many upright minds. The Schism seemed an evil from which there was no escape, a labyrinth from which no outlet could be found. The path of investigation which, by the lapse of time and in consequence of the prevailing excitement, had necessarily become more and more difficult, seemed to lead no further. The University of Paris, which suffered much from the discord of Christendom, now sought to assume the leader­ship of the great movement towards unity. In 1394 her members were invited to send in written opinions as to the means of putting an end to the Schism. In order that all might express their opinions with perfect freedom, it was decided that the documents should be placed in a locked chest in the Church of St. Mathurin. The general feeling on the subject is manifested by their number, which amounted to ten thousand. Their examination was to be the work of a Commission formed of members from all the Faculties of the University. Three propositions emerged from this mass of documents. The first was the voluntary retirement of the two Popes (Cessio). The second the decision of the point of law by a commission selected by the two Popes (Compromissio). The third, an appeal to a General Council. The University recommended the voluntary retirement of both Popes as the simplest and safest course, and as rendering a fresh election of one whom both parties would acknowledge, possible. The endeavors to restore unity by this means were carried to their further point under Gregory XII, after the failure of the French scheme of forcibly imposing peace on the Church by the common action of all the western powers. They seemed at first in Gregory's case to promise success, but all hopes of the kind soon proved delusive.