The Great Western Schism, 1378–1417: Performing Legitimacy, Performing Unity 1107168945, 9781107168947

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T HE G REAT W ESTERN S CHISM , 1378–1417

The Great Schism divided Western Christianity between 1378 and 1417. Two popes and their courts occupied the see of St. Peter, one in Rome, the other in Avignon. Traditionally, this event has received attention from scholars of institutional history. In this book, by contrast, Joëlle Rollo-Koster investigates the event through the prism of social drama. Marshalling liturgical, cultural, artistic, literary, and archival evidence, she explores the four phases of the Schism: the breach after the 1378 election, the subsequent division of the Church, redressive actions, and reintegration of the papacy in a single pope. Investigating how popes legitimized their respective positions and the reception of these efforts, RolloKoster shows how the Schism influenced political thought, how unity was achieved, and how the two capitals, Rome and Avignon, responded to the events. Rollo-Koster’s approach humanizes the Schism, enabling us to understand the event as it was experienced by contemporaries. Joëlle Rollo-Koster is Professor of Medieval History at the University of Rhode Island. A scholar of the Avignon papacy, she is the author of Avignon and Its Papacy, 1309–1417: Popes, Institutions, and Society and Raiding Saint Peter. In 2016, she was made Chevalier de l’Ordre des Palmes Académiques.

T HE G REAT W ESTERN S CHISM , 1378–1417 Performing Legitimacy, Performing Unity zx JOËLLE ROLLO-KOSTER University of Rhode Island

University Printing House, Cambridge CB2 8BS, United Kingdom One Liberty Plaza, 20th Floor, New York, ny 10006, USA 477 Williamstown Road, Port Melbourne, vic 3207, Australia 314–321, 3rd Floor, Plot 3, Splendor Forum, Jasola District Centre, New Delhi – 110025, India 103 Penang Road, #05–06/07, Visioncrest Commercial, Singapore 238467 Cambridge University Press is part of the University of Cambridge. It furthers the University’s mission by disseminating knowledge in the pursuit of education, learning, and research at the highest international levels of excellence. www.cambridge.org Information on this title: www.cambridge.org/9781107168947 doi: 10.1017/9781316717691 © Cambridge University Press 2022 This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception and to the provisions of relevant collective licensing agreements, no reproduction of any part may take place without the written permission of Cambridge University Press. First published 2022 Printed in the United Kingdom by TJ Books Ltd, Padstow Cornwall A catalogue record for this publication is available from the British Library. isbn 978-1-107-16894-7 Hardback Cambridge University Press has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

À la mémoire de ma mémé Barton, et à mes filles Auriane et Laudine. Et pour toutes les petites filles de Besagne à Toulon, où je suis née, on en sort mais on y reste.

Contents page ix

List of Illustrations List of Maps

x

List of Tables

xi

Acknowledgments

xii

List of Abbreviations

xiii

Introduction A Note on Primary Sources 12 chapter 1 q The Great Western Schism: A Social Drama Breach: The 1378 Election 23 q Crisis: Western Christianity Divided 35 Redressive Action: Subtractions and Councils 44 q Reintegration: One Pope 68

1 18 q

chapter 2 q Performing the Papacy, Performing the Schism Performing Administratively: Bullae 73 q Music and the Virgin: The Feasts of the Presentation and Visitation 87 q The Golden Rose 97 chapter 3 q Images and Responses: Antonio Baldana’s de magno Schismate, Ulrich Richenthal’s Chronicle, and the Apocalypse Tapestry of Angers Antonio Baldana’s de Magno Schismate 113 q Ulrich Richenthal’s Chronicle 122 q The Apocalypse Tapestry of Angers 137 chapter 4 q Conflicting Legitimacy: The Schism and the Rhetoric of Tyrannicide Tyranny 148 q Was the Pope a Tyrant? He Was a Usurper! 151 q Richard II 159 q The French Subtraction of Obedience (1398) 164 q Richard’s Deposition (1399) 169 q Murder at the Rue Vieille du Temple 173 q Burgundy’s Defense 176 chapter 5 q Finding Unity in Liturgy: Papal Funerals and the Political Theology of the Pope’s One Body Ordines and the Papal Death 188 q Fourteenth-Century Liturgists 194 q François de Conzié 197 q Pierre Ameil 202 q The Dead Pope Objectified and Institutionalized 214

69

111

145

187

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viii l contents chapter 6 q Rome during the Schism General Topography 236 q Trecento Rome 240 q The Beginning of the Schism 246 q The Commune during the Early Years of the Schism 251 q The Lateranization of the Capitolio 258 q Ladislaus and the Long Carnival: Rome, 1404–1420 266 q The Veronica 285 chapter 7 q Avignon during the Schism Social Topography of Papal Avignon 298 q Avignon during the Schism: Social Topography 300 q The Avignon of Clement VII (1378–1394) 303 q The Angevin Situation: The Voyage of Monseigneur Louis (1382–1384) 310 q Marie de Blois, Louis II, the War of Aix, and Raymond de Turenne (1384–1394) 322 q The First French Subtraction of Obedience (1398–1403) 331 q The Second French Subtraction of Obedience (1408–1411) 338

231

293

Conclusion

357

Bibliography

360

Index

400

Illustrations 1 Bull of Boniface IX (1389–1404) page 84 2 Ulrich Richenthal, Das Konzil Zu Konstanz, fol. 38v. Emperor Sigismund parading the Golden Rose, c. 1464 109 3 Ulrich Richenthal, Das Konzil Zu Konstanz, fol. 5r. Papal Umbrella, c. 1464 129 4 Ulrich Richenthal, Das Konzil Zu Konstanz, fol. 70v. Benedict XIII’s excommunication, c. 1464 134 5 Ulrich Richenthal, Das Konzil Zu Konstanz, fol. 12r. Processional entry, c. 1464 137

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Maps 1 Rome during the Schism. Illustration by Matilde Grimaldi 2 Late Medieval Avignon. Illustration by Matilde Grimaldi

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page 269 300

Tables 1 Papal Bulls discovered in the UK 2 Granting of the Golden Rose between 1318 and 1414 3 Accusations levied against Pope Urban VI, King Richard II, and Popes John XXIII and Benedict XIII

page 83 105 172

k xi

Abbreviations AAV Archivio Apostolico Vaticano (formerly known as Archivio Segreto Vaticano, ASV) ADV Archive départementale de Vaucluse Baluze, Vitae Étienne Baluze and Guillaume Mollat, Vitae paparum avenionensium: Nouvelle édition et étude critique, 4 vols. (Paris: Letouzey et Ané, 1914–22) Baronio, Annales 26 Cesare Baronio, Annales ecclesiastici Caesare Baronio, vol. 26, ed. Augustin Theiner (Barri-Ducis: L. Guerin, 1880) Baronio, Annales 27 Cesare Baronio, Annales ecclesiastici Caesare Baronio, vol. 27, ed. Augustin Theiner (Barri-Ducis: L. Guerin, 1880) Chartularium Universitatis Parisiensis, 3 Emile Chatelain and Heinrich Denifle, Chartularium Universitatis Parisiensis: Sub auspiciis consilii generalis fac. Parisiensium, vol. 3 (Paris: Delalain, 1894) Chartularium Universitatis Parisiensis, 4 Emile Chatelain and Heinrich Denifle, Chartularium Universitatis Parisiensis: Sub auspiciis consilii generalis fac. Parisiensium, vol. 4 (Paris: Delalain, 1897) The Council of Constance The Council of Constance: The Unification of the Church, ed. and trans. Louise Ropes Loomis, John Hines Mundy, and Kennerly M. Woody (New York: Columbia University Press, 1961). CRSD Chronique du religieux de Saint-Denys: Concernant le règne de Charles VI de 1380 à 1422, ed. and trans. Louis-François Bellaguet and Bernard Guenée. 3 vols (Paris: Éditions du Comité des travaux historiques et scientifiques, 1994) Dykmans, Cérémonial-XIII, 1 Marc Dykmans, Le cérémonial papal de la fin du Moyen-Âge à la Renaissance, tome I: Le cérémonial papal du XIIIe siècle (Brussels: Institut historique belge de Rome, 1977) Dykmans, Cérémonial-Stefaneschi, 2 Marc Dykmans, Le cérémonial papal de la fin du moyen âge à la renaissance, tome II: De Rome en Avignon ou le cérémonial de Jacques Stefaneschi (Brussels: Institut historique belge de Rome, 1981) Dykmans, Cérémonial-Conzié, 3 Marc Dykmans, Le cérémonial papal de la fin du moyen âge à la renaissance, tome III: Les textes avignonnais jusqu’à la fin du grand schisme d’occident (Brussels: Institut historique belge de Rome, 1983) Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4 Marc Dykmans, Le cérémonial papal de la fin du moyen âge à la renaissance, tome IV: Le retour à Rome ou le ceremonial du patriarche Pierre Ameil (Brussels: Institut historique belge de Rome, 1985) Ut per litteras Ut per litteras apostolicas/Lettres pontificales/Papal Letters online (Turnhout: Brepols, 2005) Valois, La France, 1–4 Noël Valois, La France et le Grand Schisme d’Occident (Paris: Picard, 1896–1902), 4 vols.

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Introduction

of the Schism’s beginning is well known. On September 13, 1376, after some seventy years spent in Avignon on the banks of the Rhône, the papacy returned to its natural location, Rome, thereby ending the socalled Babylonian captivity. By 1376, the circumstances that had kept the papacy away from its traditional seat – rebellions in Rome and the Papal States, and the Hundred Years’ War – had improved. This freed Gregory XI, who had long been intent on returning the papacy to its historical location, to concretize the move. 1 Pope Gregory died shortly thereafter, on March 27, 1378. The first Roman conclave in close to 100 years – the last one had elected Nicholas IV in 1287 – opened a few days later. Sixteen cardinals were present, of whom eleven were French, four Italian, and one Spanish. Regardless of internal divisions and a noisy crowd planted outside chanting words like “We want a Roman pope – or at least an Italian, if not, we’ll cut you to pieces!,” the conclave accomplished its task in due time. It chose Bartolomeo Prignano, Archbishop of Bari, as Pope Urban VI. Although a well-qualified curial servant, Urban had never belonged to the College. 2 Crowned on April 10, 1378, Prignano was rigorous and upright but could also be temperamental and violent. His admonitions quickly displeased most of the French cardinals. Turning against him, they moved out of Rome to settle in Anagni. On August 2, 1378, the non-Italian cardinals publicly questioned his election. On August 9, 1378, they denounced Urban as illegitimate by vice of procedure. The election,

T

HE NARRATIVE

1

On the Avignon papacy and the Schism, see Joëlle Rollo-Koster, Avignon and Its Papacy (1309–1417): Popes, Institutions, and Society (Lanham: Rowman, 2015). 2 On this violent election, see Joëlle Rollo-Koster, Raiding Saint Peter: Empty Sees, Violence, and the Initiation of the Great Western Schism (1378) (Leiden: Brill, 2008); and “Civil Violence and the Initiation of the Schism,” in A Companion to the Great Western Schism (1378–1417),” ed. Joëlle RolloKoster and Thomas Izbicki (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 9–66.

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2 l introduction they claimed, had taken place under duress and violence. They labeled the pope intrusus (usurper) and anathematized him.3 On September 21, 1378, while at the court of Onorato Caetani in Fondi, in the Kingdom of Naples, where they had found refuge, thirteen “rebellious” cardinals entered their own conclave and elected pope Robert of Geneva who took the name Clement VII. Onorato Caetani crowned Clement in Fondi a month later, on October 31, with the papal tiara brought from Castel Sant’Angelo by Gregory XI’s former camerlengo, Pierre de Cros, who had joined his side.4 After learning of the election of his rival, Urban VI responded by remaking his College of Cardinals, naming twenty-five new candidates. This act confirmed the Schism. For the first time in its history, the papacy had two popes, two courts, and two obediences generated not by external intervention but by its own College. Close to two generations lived and grew accustomed to a double, and later even a triple, papacy. When the Council of Pisa (1409) elected a new pope, it considered the crisis solved by deposing both Clementist and Urbanist popes, who of course rebuked the effort. Clement VII (1378–1394) initiated the Clementist obedience, followed by Benedict XIII (1394–1423, who never accepted his multiple depositions by the Councils of Pisa and Constance). The Urbanist obedience commenced with Urban VI (1378–1389), followed by Boniface IX (1389–1404), Innocent VII (1404–1406), and Gregory XII (1406–1415). The later Pisan obedience commenced with the election of Alexander V (1409–1410), followed by John XXIII (1410–1415). Unity was eventually restored when the Council of Constance (1414–1418) elected Martin V as sole pope recognized by all on November 11, 1417. It had previously deposed the Pisan pope John XXIII in May 1415, accepted the resignation of Gregory XII in July 1415, and again, anathemized Benedict in July 1417, before the initiation of the conclave that named Martin in November. The Schism has of course attracted historians, but its polarizing character still weighs heavily in the historiography. A definitive answer on who held legitimate rule (the Roman or Avignonese obedience) has never been offered, but Italian historiography gained the upper hand when it legitimized the Italian succession. To this day, any list of succeeding popes will itemize the Italian obedience and not the French, solving à main levée a question that is arduous, if not impossible to resolve, and was literally dropped by contemporaries.5 To a large extent, the historiography of the Schism has focused on legal, political, and institutional aspects, arguing that this was a crisis of governance at the top that did not

3

The letter of August 2 is found in Baluze, Vitae 4: 174. It is translated and analyzed by Walter Ullmann in a chapter entitled “The Case of the Cardinals,” as is the August 9 letter. See Walter Ullmann, The Origins of the Great Schism: A Study in Fourteenth-Century Ecclesiastical History (London: Burns, Oates, and Washbourne, 1948), 69–89. The August 9 letter is in Baluze, Vitae, 1: 450. On the responsibility of cardinals, see Stefan Weiss, “Luxury and Extravagance at the Papal Court in Avignon and the Outbreak of Great Western Schism,” in A Companion to the Great Western Schism, ed. Joëlle Rollo-Koster and Thomas Izbicki (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 67–97. 4 On this unusual coronation, see Maria Teresa Caciorgna, “La contea di Fondi nel XIV secolo,” in Gli ebrei a fondi e nel suo territorio. Atti del convegno fondi, 10 maggio 2012, ed. Giancarlo Lacerenza (Naples: Università degli studi di Napoli “l’orientale”, 2014), 76. 5 See Howard Kaminsky, “The Great Schism,” in The New Cambridge Medieval History, c. 1300–1415, ed. Michael Jones, 7 vols. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995–2004), 6: 674–96; and Rollo-Koster, Avignon and Its Papacy, 259–86.

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Introduction k 3 really affect social, confessional, or spiritual life.6 The recent celebration of the 600th anniversary of the end of the Schism at the Council of Constance, and the years leading up to it, has reinforced this notion by focusing on conciliar theory.7 One means to reach contemporaries’ understanding of their world is depiction of emotions. Discussing the cardinals’ behavior right after the election, Jean Favier uses contemporary witnesses who tested the mood of the election from facial expressions. He states, “The dean of Calahorra said that he saw them [the cardinals] ‘happy with good faces.’ The Auditor of Contradict Letters Gilles Bellemère, who was a rigorous jurist, saw them pale. The provost of Valencia Gil Sanchez Muñoz saw them sad.”8 Contemporaries were using the familiar language of emotion and theatrics to describe the varied emotional impact of the papal election on individuals. The fact that not all displayed contentment and serenity became a sign of things to come. Language is another means to access contemporary understandings of the crisis. With a couple of caveats. Medieval ecclesiastical authors, our main sources, were steeped in liturgical practices and may have conceived the Schism in liturgical dramatic terms linguistically; and secondly, text is prone to manipulation. Kenneth Burke, the founder of dramatism, argues that language is a mode of action. “Language is more than simply instrumental: It legitimates, thematizes, and performs social meaning . . . a dramatist approach to human intervention mandates an awareness of ourselves as actors speaking in

6

For additional introductions to the topic, see among others, Étienne Delaruelle, E. R. Labande, and Paul Ourliac, L’église au temps du Grand Schisme et de la crise conciliaire (1378–1449) (Paris: Bloud & Gay, 1962); Paul Ourliac, “Le schisme et les conciles (1378–1449),” in Histoire du christianisme des origines à nos jours, ed. Jean Marie Mayeur (Paris: Desclée, 1990), 89–139; and Kaminsky, “The Great Schism,” 685–96. 7 One of the first to focus on conciliarism was Brian Tierney, Foundations of the Conciliar Theory: The Contribution of the Medieval Canonists from Gratian to the Great Schism (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1955). Others have joined the legal and institutional approach. To name only a few, see Robert Norman Swanson, Universities, Academics and the Great Schism (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1979); Jean Favier, ed., Genèse et débuts du Grand Schisme d’Occident: Colloque international, Avignon, 25–28 septembre 1978 (Paris: Éditions du Centre national de la recherche scientifique, 1980); Walter Brandmüller, Papst und Konzil im Grossen Schisma (1378–1431): Studien und Quellen (Paderborn: Ferdinand Schöningh, 1990); Phillip H. Stump, The Reforms of the Council of Constance (1414–1418) (Leiden: Brill, 1994); Paul Avis, Beyond the Reformation?: Authority, Primacy and Unity in the Conciliar Tradition (London: T & T Clark, 2008); Heribert Müller, Die kirchliche Krise des Spätmittelalters: Schisma, Konziliarismus und Konzilien (Munich: Oldenbourg, 2012); KarlHeinz Braun, Das Konstanzer Konzil 1414–1418 – Weltereignis des Mittelalters (Darmstadt: Theiss, 2013); Thomas E. Morrissey, Conciliarism and Church Law in the Fifteenth Century: Studies on Franciscus Zabarella and the Council of Constance (Burlington: Ashgate Variorum, 2014); Gabriela Signori, and Birgit Studt, Das Konstanzer Konzil als europäisches Ereignis: Begegnungen, Medien und Rituale (Ostfildern: J. Thorbecke, 2014); Ulrich Büttner and Egon Schwär, (Hi)stories of the Council of Constance Explained by Entertaining Narratives (Constance: Verlag Stadler, 2014); Martin John Cable, “Cum Essem in Constantie . . .” Raffaele Fulgosio and the Council of Constance 1414–1415 (Leiden: Brill, 2015). Even recent general histories of the crisis remain focused on the institutional. See, for example, Paul Payan, Entre Rome et Avignon: Une histoire du Grand Schisme (1378–1417) (Paris: Flammarion, 2009); and Jean Favier, Les papes d’Avignon (Paris: Fayard, 2006). 8 Favier, Les papes d’Avignon, 554.

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4 l introduction specific situations with specific purposes.”9 Using language as a mode of action allows us to gauge the impact the Schism had on contemporaries. The first example occurs sometime in late 1380s Avignon, around the feast of St. Jacob, and is found in Peter of Luxembourg’s canonization proceedings, ca. 1387. A certain Peter, who resided in the street between the Churches of the Carmelites and Augustinian, right in front of the Inn of the Red Lion, witnessed a German Saxon, blaspheming against “our pope Clement VII and the entire curia.” We have to assume that the German was inebriated. Peter and others – we have to guess – seized him to be brought to court. Upset by the Saxon’s words, a papal messenger named Johannes (alias Lerim) hit him on the right side of the neck. At this moment, the German turned around with a knife drawn from under his cape and stabbed Peter between the armpit and left breast. Peter fell to the ground, and the German tried to stab him repeatedly; however, Peter was able to restrain him. Sergeants arrived and eventually took the felon to the court of the Marshall. Peter eventually healed to tell his tale and thank the saint.10 Peter called the German a blasphemator, driving home the severity of the offense. This tale exemplifies the charged atmosphere that loomed over Avignon, when criticizing a pope was equated with blasphemy, and easily led to a street brawl. Another example comes from Florence. In 1408, while discussing the possibility of supporting a meeting between obediences in Pisa, records were taken of the ongoing debates. Proceedings state that a certain Gionaccio Baroncelli said that “enough had been done for the union of the Church, and that nothing further should proceed; and that for the good of this [Florentine] people he wished that there were twelve popes!”11 This example reveals how some folks perceived the papacy as a meaningless title and the Schism as a political dispute that had little to do with spirituality. In both examples, language “of the street” played its part in legitimizing and delegitimizing popes. While one could not conceive a rebuke of papal sacredness, the other could not care less. He desacralized the 9

10

11

The definition is provided in Elizabeth Bell, Theories of Performance (Los Angeles: Sage Publications, 2008), 95. Acta Sanctorum (Paris, 1867), Julii, vol. 28, 522: 211 ([211] Testis XXIV interrogatus, non super articulis, in hujusmodi causa datis, [Vulneratus] sed super dictis & miraculis per ipsum inferius expressis & declaratis. Et primo dixit, quod circa festum sancti Jacobi, anni proxime præteriti, dictus Petrus loquens, existens in carreria, inter ecclesias Carmelitarum & Augustiniensium Avenionis, & ante hostellariam Leonis rubei, quidam Allemandus, nationis Saxo, blasphemabat Dominum nostrum Papam Clementem VII, & totam curiam. Unde cum propter istas diffamationes duceretur ad curiam captus, & quidam Joannes, dictus Lerim, Domini nostri Papæ cursor, percussisset blasphemantem cum alapa super collum a parte dextra: tunc ille percussus, vertens se cum quodam cultello, quem portabat subtus mantellum, percussit dictum loquentem circa mamillam sinistram, inter plicaturam brachii & mamillam; taliter quod gladius intravit per longitudinem indicis manus: quo vulnere illato, dictus Petrus [Col. 0594C] cecidit in carreria, in qua fuit percussus, quia posuit pedem in quadam fovea carreriæ, & tunc ille blasphemator dictum loquentem vulneravit in mamilla dextra, & tertio repercutere cum eodem gladio voluit, nisi ipse Petrus loquens tenuisset manum, tamen ille blasphemator per assistentes perturbabatur, & impediebatur, nec tamen propter hoc desistebat, & tunc servientes curiæ Mareschalli duxerunt utrumque ad curiam). Alison Williams Lewin, “‘Cum Status Ecclesie Noster Sit’: Florence and the Council of Pisa (1409),” Church History 62, no. 2 (1993): 185.

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Introduction k 5 office by proposing its multiplication by twelve popes – perhaps a reference the twelve apostles. The difficult task of collecting such evidence is still wanting, but it would deliver critical information on how medieval folks saw the crisis from the ground up. There is absolutely no doubt that contemporaries were cognizant of semantic usage. The Chronique des quatre premiers Valois (1327–1393) mentions that in 1381 the bishop of Paris preached a sermon intimating that all who did not believe that the cardinal of Geneva was the true pope would be deemed heretics and schismatics – labels loaded with consequences, physical and moral. There is already an interesting detail here: the Chronique’s author was a Norman cleric and Urbanist who referred to Clement VII by his former cardinal’s title, rather than by his papal name. This in itself shows his own reservations. Un-naming a pope is a tool that we will encounter in many instances. After this sermon, the university entered into robust discussions and determined that “It was against God, right, and reason, and an error for all Christianity to have two popes. There must only be one, but as long as there are two, they stated that no one should be accused of heresy and schism if they do not believe that Pope Clement is pope.”12 Here is evidence enough that words mattered a lot. The terms “heretics” and “schismatics” were eliminated from the vocabulary of the Schism as a way to pacify rancor and facilitate an eventual reunion. But other labels drove home the severity of the crisis. A quick survey of the most utilized descriptors during the Schism yields certain words as leitmotifs: “usurper” (intrusus) in politics and “body” (funus and corpus) in liturgy, two terms that will be discussed at length in Chapters 4 and 5. But for now, I will address a third: “plague/pestiferous” (peste, pestilentior), as nuisance, destruction, scourge, and mortality.13 Before the 1378 Schism, a review of thirteenth- to mid-fourteenth-century papal letters for the word pest* (leaving declensions open) shows that the word was attached most often to “pestiferous” wars, political enemies, and heresies. For example, in 1264, Urban IV used the term to describe the Greek Schism (schismaticorum peste), and then against Manfred, Frederick II’s son (omni peste pestilentior esse possit).14 Urban IV in 1264 and Gregory X in 1272 also used the term to lament war (tristium peste bellorum).15 Examples from the early fourteenth century show that the term was associated with political enemies. In 1304, Benedict XI criticized Florence’s interventions in Tuscia (Tuscie civitatibus peste laborantibus), and in 1310 Clement V railed similarly against Ferrara (ut recidiva peste ipsius civitatis).16 John XXII favored the term to label heresies. In 1332, he upbraided heretics who swarmed (pullulantes) the diocese of Pamiers (ita quod hac extirpata peste mortifera fides ibidem catholica), as well as the rest of the Roussillon region (ut extirpata heresis peste de medio fidelium).17 The arrival of Yersenia Pestis, the Black Death or bubonic plague, changed usage. From 1347 on, papal letters used the word for a disease that caused great suffering, a scourge.

12

13

14 15 16 17

Siméon Luce, ed., Chronique des quatre premiers Valois (1327–1393) (Paris: Société de l’histoire de France, 1862), 295. See the definition of “pestis” in Du Cange et al., Glossarium mediæ et infimæ latinitatis (Niort: L. Favre, 1883–1887) at Ducange, http://ducange.enc.sorbonne.fr/PESTIS1. See Ut per litteras apostolicas, Urbain IV, (1264) # 000577, 000578, 000778. See Ut per litteras apostolicas, Urbain IV, (1264) # 000852; and Grégoire X (1272) #000035. See Ut per litteras apostolicas, Benoît XI (1304) # 001278; and Clément V (1310) # 006316. See Ut per litteras apostolicas, Jean XXII (1332) #004989, 005007.

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6 l introduction Interestingly, first as an adjective (mortalitatis peste) and then as a noun (peste).18 A 1373 indulgence in articulo mortis from Gregory XI given to the inhabitants of Pisa associates both adjective and noun (in quibus mortalitatis pestis invalescat, semel tantum durante ipsa peste).19 In essence, contemporaries of the Schism already had the necessary vocabulary to discuss something that was a deadly nuisance causing immense suffering, a disease. We can note that languaging and communicating about the crisis involved physical, sensory perceptions. We are unfortunately unable to continue tracing serially the usage of pest* in the online papal letters database, which ends with Gregory XI, right before the Schism. But other resources are available, such as Cesare Baronio’s Annales ecclesiastici. While “papalist” and pro-Catholic in response to the Reformation, the Annales offer an abundance of primary sources. These corroborate the usage previously highlighted. Before the Schism, the word is used for heresies and diseases. Beghards are labeled pestiferous heretics, as is Wycliffe.20 Then the Schism became associated with pest, especially in the 1390s, when elections in both obediences showed that the double-headed papacy was here to stay. Pedro de Luna (the future Benedict XIII) is identified as a pestiferous man (vir pestifer Petrus [d]e Luna), and the schism became pestiferous (pestiferi schismatis).21 By the late 1390s, the Annales systematically identified the Schism as pestiferous: pestiferum schisma.22 This association brings home the severity of perception. Like the bubonic plague, the crisis was a dangerous, incurable disease attacking the Christian body. The word suggested a sense of physical pain, finality, and powerlessness at fighting the disease. In 1407, when discussions were ongoing between both popes regarding an eventual

18

Among many examples, see Ut per litteras apostolicas, Clément VI, # 002074, 003966, 004115, 004426, 004928; Urbain V, # 009464, 024611, 026840; Grégoire XI, 002016, 024244. 19 Ut per litteras apostolicas, Grégoire XI, # 024506 (universis personis utriusque sexus ecclesiasticis et secularibus civitatis et districtus pisan., in quibus mortalitatis pestis invalescat, semel tantum durante ipsa peste, presentis usque ad menses tres et hiis solum qui ex peste ipsa decesserint valituris). 20 Baronio, Annales 26: 228, in 1373 for Beghards, “prasertim de secta Beguardorum, qui alias Turlupinidic untur, sparsit semen pestiferum multiplicis haereticae pravitatis.” For Wycliffe, see Baronio, Annales 26: (1382) 435, 436, 441; Baronio, Annales 26: (1389), 494; and Baronio, Annales 27: (1396), 573. 21 Examples abound, Baronio, Annales 26: 353, a 1379 letter of Peter of Aragon, states “Caeterum quanto Ecclesiasticae damno in Aragonia vir pestifer Petrus [d]e Luna permissus sit schismaticae; impietatis venena diffundere, ex dicendis inferius constabit.” Then, Annales 26: 362 “Exscindi poterant schismatis pestiferi germina;” 366 “et tum Carolum regem misere porrecto a suis lento veneno iutabuisse, cujus praecipue auctoritate antipapa pestilentiae cathedram retenturum . . . qui Clementem papam VII ausu temerario se fecit, excelsis et intrepidis animis respuatis, ejusque virulentis et pestilentissimis suggestionibus . . . in qua sperabat in pestilentiae cathedra”; 373 “ut Petrum de Luna hominem pestiferum aditu in regnum probiberet”; 387 “pestilentia cathedra constabiliret;” 393 “serpentem venenum pestiferum emittentem”; 422 “dictique pestiferi schismatis”; 545 “sub amicorum specie virus pestilentissimum nequitiae inspirantes”; and 572 “pestiferam paritura malitiam.” 22 Baronio, Annales 27: 6 (1397), “Nos omnes et singuli sanctae Romanae Ecclesiae cardinales propriis manibus in cedula praesenti scripti, qui dudum vita functo felicis recordationis domino Clemente Septimo congregati pro electione futura in conclavi, ac, prout tenemur, cupientes abolere pestiferum schisma,” and also 9, 17, 26, 135 (pestiferum et horrendum schisma), 156, 170, 171, 237, 241, 277, 293, 295, 304, 336, 345, 418, 420, 431, 444.

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Introduction k 7 solution, the University of Bologna’s academics used medical language to address the crisis. They declared solemnly that “‘hardening of the heart’ had transformed the schism into heresy, and that therefore it was necessary to refuse obedience to both popes as obstinate and heretical.”23 Additionally, at times during the Schism, certain individuals were described as a scourge. In 1400, the Romans were labeled pestiferi romani cives, as was Wycliffe, again, a few years later.24 Usage of the descriptor eventually spread. At the University of Paris, it was opinions that were labeled pestiferous.25 And at the end of the Schism, Martin V considered simony pestiferum et multiforme monstrum simoniae in a 1418 bull, a description also applied to the Hussite war.26 What is left of this semantic exercise is a vocabulary usage that mixed diseases of the flesh and soul and somewhat mitigated agency. If a pestiferous heresy is something one chooses, a pestiferous disease is not. It becomes interesting to note that after 1348, plague imagery had to be taken into consideration when using the word pest* and with it a series of images that linked virulence with lack of human control and agency. Sinners had brought God’s wrath onto the human race. And there were no better tools to placate God’s wrath than intercessory masses. Contemporary masses, intended to appease God in perilous moments like the plague pandemic, closed the loop linking the Schism to disease. Inspired by Clement VI’s Recordare Domine testamenti tui against the plague, Clement VII endorsed Salvos nos fac in 1392, to end the Schism, and Exaudi Deus orationem meam in 1393, dedicated to Church peace. Pius V (1566–1572) renamed the latter missa pro infirmis – directly linking Schism and disease.27 Pestilence, either physical or moral, was God’s punishment. The pestiferous Schism was presented as a disease in a social drama that needed human atonement. In Froissart’s words, loosely translated, “we know that in the future people will marvel at such things and how the Church could fall in such troubles, and for so long, but it was a wound (or scourge) sent by God to warn the high clergy of its vanities blinded by pride and presumption.”28 These few introductory comments point to a few of the Schism’s historiographical loopholes. As we will see in the following pages, the Great Western Schism has mostly 23 24 25 26 27

28

Lewin, “Cum Status Ecclesie Noster Sit,” 183. Baronio, Annales 27: 65, 404. Chartularium Universitatis Parisiensis, 3: 497. Baronio, Annales 27: 500, 502. See Jules Viard, “La messe pour la peste,” Bibliothèque de l’École des Chartes 61 (1900): 334–38; Valois, La France, 2: 403; Robert Amiet, “La messe pour l’unité des chrétiens,” Revue des Sciences Religieuses 28 (1954): 1–35; and Hélène Millet and Catherine Vincent, “La prière pour l’unité de l’Église,” in Le Midi et le Grand Schisme d’Occident, ed. Jean-Louis Biget (Toulouse: Privat, 2004), 531–70. The full quote reads: Bien sçay que ou temps à venir l’on s’esmerveillera de telles choses et comment l’Église pupt cheoir en tels troubles, ne si longuement demourer mais ce fut une playe envoiée de Dieu pour adviser et considérer au clergé du grant estat et des grans superfluités qu’ils tenoient et faisoient combien que les plusieurs n’en tenoient compte car ils estoient si aveuglés de orgueil et de présumption que chascun vouloit sourmonter ou ressembler l’un l’autre. Jean Froissart and Kervyn de Lettenhove, Oeuvres de Froissart. Chroniques, vol. 11 (1867–1877, repr. Osnabrück: Biblio Verlag, 1967), 251.

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8 l introduction attracted an ecclesiological and political historiography. This historiography has somewhat disincarnated the crisis, focusing on institutions rather than the people behind it. The present monograph will complement this historiography by “incarnating” it, grounding the analysis of the Schism’s events within the framework of cultural anthropology. The Schism will be treated as a social drama with its own actors performing this drama. In “Social Dramas and Stories about Them,” Victor Turner argues, My hypothesis, based on repeated observations of such processual units in a range of sociocultural systems and on my reading in ethnography and history, is that social dramas, “dramas of living,” as Kenneth Burke calls them, can be aptly studied as having four phases. These I label breach, crisis, redress, and either reintegration or recognition of schism. Social dramas occur within groups of persons who share values and interests and who have a real or alleged common history. The main actors are persons for whom the group has a high value priority.29

Turner further elaborates using a wide range of examples spanning the chronology and geography (from Becket to Watergate). He identifies the four acts of social drama, starting with “the breach of a norm, the infraction of a rule of morality, law, custom, or etiquette, in some public arena.”30 As an expression of division, the breach may be spontaneous or calculated, but it systematically leads to a state where “overt conflict and covert antagonisms become visible. Sides are taken, factions are formed, and unless the conflict can be sealed off quickly within a limited area of social interaction, there is a tendency for the breach to widen and spread until it coincides with some dominant cleavage in the widest set of relevant social relations to which the parties in conflict belong.”31 Turner argues that more basic and durable social structures permeate below the surface of such divisions. The next processual phase is as follows: “In order to limit the contagious spread of breach, certain adjustive and redressive mechanisms, informal and formal, are brought into operation by leading members of the disturbed group.”32 The last phase sees either reintegration or total break. What does Victor Turner’s discussion of social drama based on the Ndembu people of the Republic of Congo bring to the analysis of the major crisis of late medieval Christianity? A lot. Turner’s theory allows the Schism to be analyzed within the framework of a sociocultural phenomenon. Because it was a social drama, the Schism followed the processual evolution identified by Turner. The double election of 1378 was its breach, the division of Western Christianity into two papal obediences its crisis, subtractions of obedience and councils its redressive actions, and the election of a single pope at the Council of Constance its denouement and reintegration. The constant substrata that lingered below the surface of the crisis was the opposition between an oligarchic/corporatist curia and the College of Cardinals, which resisted the mounting absolutist pretensions of the papacy. What does the analysis of the Schism as a cultural phenomenon bring to the Schism historiography? A fresh way of revisiting it by focusing on the means medieval society 29 30 31 32

Victor Turner, “Social Dramas and Stories about Them,” Critical Inquiry 7, no. 1 (1980): 149. Turner, “Social Dramas,” 150. Turner, “Social Dramas,” 150. Turner, “Social Dramas,” 151.

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Introduction k 9 deployed, the elements it created to solve the crisis as it reacted with the predictability of social dramas. Addressing contemporary studies focused on social drama, Elizabeth Bell concludes, “all of these explorations of contemporary social dramas show how communication and performance are resources for languaging the breach, garnering support for and against the protagonist, resolving the drama through cultural mechanism, and returning the community to normal.”33 The following pages will argue that performance undergirded the Schism’s social drama. Scholars have emphasized the performative aspects of medieval society, and of the Church, but up to now, few have linked them to the Schism per se.34 It seems quite evident that a breach that divided Christian Europe over questions of legitimacy would see the deployment of behaviors aimed at emphasizing or contesting legitimacy. I will argue that the performance of authority and legitimacy guided most responses to the Schism as the crisis processed through its four stages. Performance was attached to the demonstration of power that defined authority. And because medieval society, like the papacy, conceived itself as a body, legitimating performances emphasized the sensorial and sensual.35 Authority was projected and defined as something that could be seen, voiced, heard, touched, and smelled. After reviewing the Schism’s historiography while reframing it as a social drama (breach, crisis, redressive action, and reintegration), the following chapters will identify specific moments that emphasized the performance of authority during the Schism. Chapters 2 and 3 will focus on the performance of the papacy and responses to it. Chapter 2, “Performing the Papacy, Performing the Schism,” will juxtapose elements that may sound incongruous at first: administration and liturgy. But the study of the granting of bullae (papal bulls), and of the somewhat rivaling liturgical feasts of the Presentation, Visitation, and the granting of the Golden Rose will underscore the Schism’s competing papal performances. Chapter 3, “Images and Responses,” will gauge the response to and reception of papal performance during the Schism through illustrated chronicles: Antonio Baldana’s de magno Schismate, Ulrich Richenthal’s chronicle, and the Apocalypse Tapestry of Angers. Treating these three objects as performative receptors will allow us to weigh in on the reactions to papal behavior. Chapter 4, “Conflicting Legitimacy: The Schism and the Rhetoric of Tyrannicide,” will visit the world of politics and parallel the discussion of usurpation and tyranny within the ecclesiastical and secular realms. After defining the emic understanding of tyranny, the chapter will ask if authors labeled the pope a tyrant during the Schism. He was not labeled as such, but rather as a usurper. This semantic play minimized directly labeling popes a threat but still emphasized the risks multiple popes presented to Christian society. The response to a “tyrannical” pope who refused to step down for the sake of unity grew into the 1398 French Subtraction of Obedience. Addressed next in the chapter, it 33 34

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Bell, Theories of Performance, 110. For example, John F. Romano, Liturgy and Society in Early Medieval Rome (London: Ashgate, 2016); Maureen C. Miller, The Bishop’s Palace: Architecture and Authority in Medieval Italy (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2000); and Elizabeth McCahill, Reviving the Eternal City: Rome and the Papal Court, 1420–1447 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2013). The most obvious legitimation of this bodily metaphor is found in the rationalization of the council of Constance in “Haec sancta synodus” that states, “In nomine sanctae et individuae Trinitatis, Patris et Filii et Spiritus sancti. Amen. Haec sanctae synodus Constantiensis generale concilium faciens, pro exstirpatione praesentis schismatis, et unione ac reformatione ecclesiae Dei in capite et in membris fienda”; as quoted by Stump, The Reforms of the Council of Constance, xiv.

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10 l introduction mirrors specific political events: the 1399 deposition of Richard II and the murder of the duke of Orléans at the Rue Vieille du Temple (1407) by orders of the duke of Burgundy, including Jean Petit’s defense of the murderers at the Council of Constance. The chapter will argue that responses to the Schism informed and influenced the political world, drawing parallels between ecclesiastical and secular performances of authority. Chapter 5, “Finding Unity in Liturgy: Papal Funerals and the Political Theology of the Pope’s One Body,” will address the liturgical response to the Schism and, again, the search for unity. The chapter will focus on specific ceremonial books (ordines) authored during the Schism and tease out what they can teach us about the performance of unity. In the case of Pierre Ameil’s ordo, his objectification of the papal corpse allowed the performance of liturgical unity. Dead man and effigy, Ameil’s papal corpse was the “incarnated” ecclesiastical institution objectified. Finally, Rome and Avignon will anchor Chapters 6 and 7 respectively. The chapters will study the competing Christian capitals with a focus on the performance of authority. In general, the following approach emphasizes a modern historiography that has outpaced the old divide between genres. At a minimum, social and cultural anthropology can inform institutional history and vice versa. One genre does not exclude the other. In their recent The Grammar of Politics and Performance, Shirin M. Rai and Janelle G. Reinelt investigate the structural similarities between politics and performance. They quite elegantly refer to these similarities as “grammar.”36 They rightly point out that while we often trivialize politics as spectacle and performance, scholarship in, for example, psychology, sociology, anthropology, and political studies, has been slow to “discover the nature of the cross-over between performance as a set of behavioural practices and the transactions of these other realms.”37 They add, “the notion that one can study and describe the ‘grammar’ governing politics (which will always involve performance) as well as the ‘grammar’ governing performance (which will always involve politics) is a provocative idea which we hope will give rise to further research on the complex and fluctuating relationship between these two terms.”38 Since grammar is a set of rules and codes created to communicate more easily, the authors identify several markers of politics and performance, or a “set of principles” that can facilitate investigation. First, the evident, both rely on actors and audience: “both politics and performance require publics and exist to affect their constituencies in aggregate form, whether through laws and policies or through providing certain (often aesthetic) experiences in common.”39 Thus, the presence of a public leads performance/politics to be driven by a consciousness and awareness that one is doing something to be observed, within a defined sociopolitical context; it is transactional. As the authors state, “to perform is to be aware of the act of doing something, and to show doing it.”40 There is no better relation between this principle and the papacy than the words of Pope Clement VI (1342–1352), who

36

Shirin M. Rai and Janelle G. Reinelt, The Grammar of Politics and Performance (New York: Routledge, 2016). 37 Rai and Reinelt, The Grammar of Politics, 1. 38 Rai and Reinelt, The Grammar of Politics, 1. 39 Rai and Reinelt, The Grammar of Politics, 4. 40 Rai and Reinelt, The Grammar of Politics, 4.

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Introduction k 11 upon his election stated, “our predecessors did not know how to be popes” (Predecessores nostri nesciverunt esse papa).41 Clement was truly aware that the papacy was a performance. Shirin M. Rai and Janelle G. Reinelt also emphasize that politics/performances are representational and unifying. Quoting Michael Walzer, they drive the point home: “Politics is an art of unification; from many, it makes one. And symbolic activity is perhaps our most important means of bringing things together, both intellectually and emotionally.”42 They later note, “there is a growing awareness among politics scholars that the interactions between performance and its reception generate politics.”43 This theme will grow central in the analysis of the Schism, whose resolution lay especially in creating a politic of unity. The second “grammatical” rule underscores visibility. Performance/politics makes visible or invisible. In a certain sense this visibility is related to the staging and public aspect of both politics and performance. Finally, the third rule concerns identities and personhood. In sum, performance confers identity. People play a role that is recognizable and identifiable.44 This in turn circles back to representation. Rai and Reinelt’s understanding of the grammar of politics will inform the analysis of the two Christian capitals. We find in both Rome and Avignon the same presence of actors and audiences, the same emphasis on symbolic activities aimed at unification, and a search for communal visibility and identity when facing papal regimes. In both Rome and Avignon, the source of most upheaval and instability can be traced back to the Schism. Internally, Rome and Avignon remained contested ground throughout the Schism as the respective Commune attempted to seize the helm of their destinies. In both, internal politics were predicated by the Schism, more or less dividing the cities into “pro-” and “anti-my-pope” parties, the latter usually referring to the “other” popes as a better option. And of course, in both cities, external influences put pressure on internal politics. Additionally, urban space and landscape identified and branded this political contest. Space became constitutive of authority. Emphasis on the Trastevere, Castel Sant’Angelo, and the Lateran defined Roman narratives. Likewise, narratives of Avignon feature St. Didier parish, where capital executions took place and where the city’s council eventually settled. In both cities, the areas of growth during the Schism were remarkably off-centered from the traditional location of power. In Avignon, St. Didier was symmetrically opposed to St. Étienne, the parish of the papal fortress. In Rome, the Trastevere and Lateran opposed the Capitolio and Vaticano, the traditional loci of power. Both Rome and Avignon homed in on specific monuments, eventually treating them as representative symbols of “tyranny”: Castle Sant’Angelo in Rome and the palace and Tour Quiquengrogne in Avignon. And finally, in both cities, liturgico-religious performance remained the benchmark of ritualized activities. In Rome, civic authorities took advantage of papal weaknesses to counter-perform the papacy, inherently valuing papal performance by appropriating it. In contrast, the Avignon of Clement VII was totally in sync with its pope, who relied heavily 41

Baluze, Vitae, 1: 298. Rai and Reinelt, The Grammar of Politics, 6. 43 Rai and Reinelt, The Grammar of Politics, 14. 44 Rai and Reinelt, The Grammar of Politics, 13–14. 42

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12 l introduction on the French Angevin to defend his politics. Yet two Subtractions of Obediences, a first in 1398–1403, and a second between 1408 and 1411, weakened resolve and allowed secular authorities to free themselves from the papal “yoke.” For a time, Avignon, and most of all its leading French authorities and cardinals, showed that their domination aimed at establishing a new order of things liberated as much as possible from papal interferences. Rejecting the pope entailed rejecting things papal. Authorities attempted to create performance free of papal tradition. Of course, the concept of performance harks back to theatricality, and modern history has shown us that it is not a prerogative of the Middle Ages to offer visions of a political “theater state.”45 As Mark Cruse proposed in the abstract of a recent collection of essays, “performance shapes reality . . . performance opened a space in which patrons, rulers, writers, painters, spectators, and readers could see themselves or their societies differently, and thereby could assume different identities or construct alternative communities.”46 To apply Cruse’s analysis to the topic at hand, during the Schism it became evident that if popes and their supporters needed to fulfill the expectations of their office vis-à-vis their own institution and the secular world, the stakes were raised higher when they had to additionally perform for a rival papal obedience. In various ways, with no pretense at being a synthesis, this is what the next chapters will address.

A Note on Primary Sources s interested readers will find the historiography within the theme of each chapter, the next few lines will merely identify the major primary sources utilized for my analyses. From tapestries to ceremonial books and papal bullae, the sources of my investigation on performance during the Schism were as varied as the topics addressed. The medieval popes’ letters, published in electronic format by the École française de Rome (Ut per litteras) remain an essential tool.47 The end-date of their edition falls before the initiation of the Schism in 1378. However, Ut per litteras allows, for example, serial searches on key words that will, I surmise, eventually challenge the way we study the medieval papacy and allow long-range examinations, either of individual popes or of multiple papacies. Re-edited and published by Guillaume Mollat, Étienne Baluze’s papal vitae is an indispensable tool for the study of late medieval Avignon and its papacy, as are Caesare Baronio’s Annales ecclesiastici and Augustin Theiner’s Codex diplomaticus for the history of the medieval church and papacy at large.48 Continuing the presentation of edited papal documents, I relied on

A

45

The term was defined by Clifford Geertz, Negara: The Theatre State in Nineteenth-Century Bali (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1980). 46 Mark Cruse, ed., Performance and Theatricality in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance (Turnhout: Brepols, 2018), abstract. 47 Ut per litteras: Ut per litteras apostolicas/Lettres pontificales/Papal Letters online (Turnhout: Brepols, 2005). For an updated discussion of editions issued from the Vatican collections, see Olivier Poncet, Les entreprises éditoriales liées aux archives du Saint-Siège: Histoire et bibliographie, 1880–2000 (Rome: École française de Rome, 2003). 48 Étienne Baluze, Vitae paparum avenionensium hoc est Historia pontificum romanorum qui in Gallia sederunt ab anno Christi MCCCV usque ad annum MCCCXCIV, ed. Guillaume Mollat (Paris: Letouzey et Ané, 1914–1922), 4 vols.; Cesare Baronio, Domenicus Giorgi, Joannes Dominicus

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A Note on Primary Sources k 13 Marc Dykmans’s impeccable edition of the fourteenth-century ceremonial books to analyze ceremonials and Pierre Ameil’s ordo.49 One cannot study the Schism without encountering chronicles that in many cases filled the gaps left by empty archives. The best ecclesiastical sources of knowledge for the Schism emanate from two curial insiders, the Urbanist Dietrich von Nieheim and the Clementist Martin de Alpartil.50 Both remain inescapable for the amount of information they deliver regarding life within and outside the curias. Volume seven of Veterum scriptorium, by the Maurist brothers Edmond Martène and Ursin Durand, filled in the gaps when needed.51 While I do not dwell at length on the Schism’s councils, and will pursue in a further study a history of performance within these councils, I still relied on Giovanni Domenico Mansi’s Sacrorum Conciliorum nova et amplissima collection, especially volumes 26 and 27 for conciliar events and documents.52 To conclude this description of official transcriptions and editions of ecclesiastical sources, I also relied on the edition of the University of Paris’ texts, especially volumes three and four of Emile Chatelain and Heinrich Denifle’s Chartularium Universitatis Parisiensis.53 Performative behaviors usually entail expenses for performative tools and means. To buttress this investigation of papal legitimation, I opted to investigate papal expenditures in the cameral registers of the Apostolic Chamber. These unpublished documents found at the Vatican Apostolic Archives (Archivio Apostolico Vaticano [AAV], formerly known as Vatican Secret Archives, Archivio Segreto Vaticano, [ASV]), especially the introitus et exitus (IE, income and expenditure) series, itemize curial expenses for Pope Clement VII and Benedict XIII. Both popes spent large amounts to perform their legitimacy, from cloths to knives, and slippers to mercenaries. A “variation in red” could be composed with the documentary itemization of red cloths bought for the popes to complement their “persona,” from vestments and shoes, to beddings and horse blankets. Faced with an Mansi, Antonius Pagi, and Odoricus Rinaldi, Annales ecclesiastici Caesare Baronio, (Paris: Ex typis consociationis sancti pauli, 1880), especially vols. 26 and 27 for our period; and Augustin Theiner, Codex diplomaticus dominii temporalis S. Sedis (Rome: Imprimerie du Vatican, 1861–1862) 49 Marc Dykmans, Le cérémonial papal de la fin du Moyen-Âge à la Renaissance, tome I: Le cérémonial papal du XIIIe siècle (Brussels: Institut historique belge de Rome, 1977); Le cérémonial papal de la fin du moyen âge à la renaissance, tome II: De Rome en Avignon ou le cérémonial de Jacques Stefaneschi (Brussels: Institut historique belge de Rome, 1981); Le cérémonial papal de la fin du moyen âge à la renaissance, tome III: Les textes avignonnais jusqu’à la fin du grand schisme d’occident (Brussels: Institut historique belge de Rome, 1983); and Le cérémonial papal de la fin du moyen âge à la renaissance, tome IV: Le retour à Rome ou le ceremonial du patriarche Pierre Ameil (Brussels: Institut historique belge de Rome, 1985). 50 Dietrich von Nieheim, Theoderici de Nyem’s De scismate libri tres, ed. Georgius Erler (Leipzieg: Veit, 1890); and Martin de Alpartil, Cronica actitatorum temporibus Benedicti XIII Pape, ed. and trans. José Angel Sesma Muñoz and María del Mar Agudo Romeo (Zaragoza: Centro de Documentación Bibliográfica Aragonesa, 1994). 51 Edmond Martène and Ursin Durand, Veterum scriptorum et monumentorum historicorum, dogmaticorum, moralium, amplissima collection, vol. 7 (Paris: Apud Montalant, 1733). 52 Johannes Dominicus [Giovanni Domenico] Mansi, ed., Sacrorum Conciliorum nova et amplissima collectio. Editio novissima, vol. 26 (Venice: Antonius Zatta, 1783); and vol. 27 (Venice: Antonius Zatta 1784). 53 Emile Chatelain and Heinrich Denifle, Chartularium Universitatis Parisiensis: Sub auspiciis consilii generalis fac. Parisiensium, vol. 3 (Paris: Delalain, 1894); and Chartularium Universitatis Parisiensis: Sub auspiciis consilii generalis fac. Parisiensium, vol. 4 (Paris: Delalain, 1897).

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14 l introduction abundance of material, I focused on papal expenses for the Clementist obedience that encompass IE volumes 350–78, ranging from 1378 to 1405, with a few chronological lapses. The volumes for 1394–1395 and 1398–1414 are missing, but volume 376 covers the years 1404–1405. Some information was also collected from the Avignon Registers (the so-called Registra Avenionensia, or Reg. Aven.), which contain cameral documents with papal letters. These materials are nonexistent for the Urbanist obedience.54 The Vatican archives still hold the Armarium LIV, the so-called Libri de Schismate (books of the Schism) that collect in several volumes the depositions from witnesses retelling the infamous days of April 1378 and Urban VI’s election, written down to compel the kings of Aragon and Castile to choose their obedience. I revisited them to ascertain the accuracy of certain published transcriptions.55 Located in Avignon’s communal archives, within the Archives départementales du Vaucluse (ADV), registers CC 1010 and 1011 for the years 1376–1378 provide information on the internal financial organization of the city and the ways gabelles funds were expended. Since the popes largely exploited this financial mana, they also became a source of information for the performance of papal legitimacy. The city’s syndics bought from the pope the right to tax merchandise entering Avignon; thus, the gabelles were born. Officers and notaries stood at the city’s gates and took note of traffic and created tax receipts. The number of volumes is limited, but both were checked.56 Other documents are found in certain boîtes of Avignon’s archives communales. Their numeration will be clearly identified in the footnotes. Avignon communal archives’ military series EE documents the second Subtraction of Obedience (1410–1411) in great detail. For example, volume EE3 covers the activities of Philippe de Poitiers from June to December 1411. Volumes EE5 and 6 represent the ledgers for the 1411 expenses including a listing of all mercenaries employed. Volumes EE7, 8, and 9 are the ledgers of the war treasurers Martin Pamperati and Martin Martini from May 1410 to August 1411; EE10 the ledgers of war treasurers Nutinus Jacobi from August 1411 until January 1412, Poldo de Passis December 1411 until November 1412, Guillaume 54

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The best discussion of these volumes can be found in Jean Favier, Les finances pontificales à l’époque du Grand Schisme d’Occident 1378–1409 (Paris: Boccard, 1966). For the most recent, see Philippe Genequand, Une politique pontificale en temps de crise: Clément VII d’Avignon et les premières années du grand Schisme d’Occident (1378–1394) (Basel: Schwabe Verlag, 2013). Especially the transcriptions of Louis Gayet, Le grand schisme d’occident d’après les documents contemporains déposés aux Archives Secrètes du Vatican (Paris: Welter, 1889), 2 vols.; Michael Seidlmayer, Die Anfänge des grossen abendländischen Schismas: Studien zur Kirchenpolitik insbesondere der Spanischen Staaten (Münster in Westfalen: Aschendorffsche Verlag, 1940); and “Die spanischen ‘Libri de Schismate’ des Vatikanischen Archivs,” Gesammelte Aufsätze zur Kulturgeschichte Spaniens (Spanischen Forschungen der Görresgesellschaft, Reihe I) Band 8 (Münster in Westfalen: Aschendorffsche Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1940), 199–262. Andreas Rehberg, “Le inchieste dei re d’Aragona e di Castiglia sulla validità dell’elezione di Urbano VI nei primi anni del Grande Scisma – alcune piste di ricercar,” in L’età dei processi: Inchieste e condanne tra politica e ideologia nel ‘300. Atti del convegno di studio svoltosi in occasione della XIX edizione del premio internazionale Ascoli Piceno, Ascoli Piceno, Palazzo dei Capitani, 30 novembre–1 dicembre 2007, eds. A. Rigon and F. Veronese (Roma: Atti del premio internazionale Ascoli Piceno, 2009), 247–304, also revisited these transcriptions. See ADV, CC 1011, fols. 118v., 133v.–134, 167v., 168, 274, for bulls authorizing the levy of the gabelles.

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A Note on Primary Sources k 15 de Lucquesio May 1410 until February 1411, and Cathalanus de Rocha March to May 1411 and May to November 1412. Volume EE 11 lists the “absent” – the missing in action – Avignonese property owners who needed to contribute to the war effort, if not physically at least financially. Volume EE12, 13, 14, and 15 assemble various receipts for the expenses incurred by the war effort. And finally, volume EE16 outlines the Catalans’ rendition and evacuation of the palace. As seen above, Avignon does not suffer from archival dearth, and its history can be easily traced additionally through abundant editions of various chronicles and annals, most with an eye on the period of the Schism. These editions were compiled by early twentiethcentury historians who became the staples of the Avignon papacy’s historiography, most notably Noël Valois, Pierre Pansier, and Robert Brun.57 No historian of the Schism can claim anything without referring to their works. Additional editions of works contemporary to the Schism, such as the anonymous chronicle “Chronicon parvum Avinionense de schismate et bello (1397–1416)” and the edition of Bertrand Boysset’s opus (he was a chronicler and surveyor who also left scientific writings on the art of surveying), complement this rich historiography.58 Editions of French Chronicles and the enormous erudition of Noël Valois assist with understanding France’s Schism politics and its international rapports. They are essential when researching France’s relationship with the Clementist obedience and the roads to two subtractions of obedience and several councils. They are complemented with information gleaned from the pen of Christoforo da Piacenza, Mantuan procurator at the court.59

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Noel Valois, “Essai de restitution d’anciennes annales avignonnaises,” Annuaire-bulletin de la Société de l’Histoire de France 39 (1902): 161–86; Pierre Pansier, “Annales avignonnaises de 1370–1382 d’après le livre des mandats de la gabelle,” Annales d’ Avignon et du Comtat Venaissin 3 (1914–1915): 5–72; and Robert Brun, “Annales avignonnaises de 1382 à 1410 extraites des archives Datini,” Mémoires de l’institut historique de Provence 12 (1935): 17–142; 13 (1936): 58–105; 14 (1937): 5–57; 15 (1938): 21–52 and 154–92. See François Charles Carreri, “Chronicon parvum Avinionense de schismate et bello (1397–1416),” Annales d’Avignon et du Comtat Venaissin 4 (1916): 161–74; and Patrick Gautier Dalché, Marie Rose Bonnet, and Philippe Rigaud, eds., Bertrand Boysset: Chronique (Turnhout, Belgium: Brepols, 2018). See, for example, Jean le Fèvre, Journal de Jean le Fèvre, ed. H. Moranvillé (Paris: Picard, 1887); Chronographia regum francorum (1380–1405), ed. Henri Moranvillé (Paris: Société de l’histoire de France, 1891–1897); Chronique du religieux de Saint-Denys: Concernant le règne de Charles VI de 1380 à 1422, ed. and trans. Louis-François Bellaguet and Bernard Guenée (Paris: Éditions du Comité des travaux historiques et scientifiques, 1994), 3 vols.; Chronique des quatre premiers Valois (1327–1393), ed. Siméon Luce (Paris: Société de l’histoire de France, 1862); Jean Juvenal des Ursins, Histoire de Charles VI roy de France, ed. Denys Godefroy (Paris: Imprimerie royale, 1653); Enguerrand de Monstrelet, The Chronicles of Enguerrand De Monstrelet; Containing an Account of the Cruel Civil Wars between the Houses of Orléans and Burgundy; of the Possession of Paris and Normandy by the English, Their Expulsion Thence; and of Other Memorable Events That Happened in the Kingdom of France, As Well As in Other Countries . . . Beginning at the Year MCCCC., Where That of Sir John Froissart Finishes, and Ending at the Year . . . MDXVL, trans. Thomas Johnes (London: H. G. Bohn, 1853). See also Arturo Segre, “I dispacci di Christoforo da Piacenza, procuratore mantuano alla corte pontificia,” Archivio storico italiano 43 (1909): 27–95; 44 (1909): 253–326. And, of course, Noël Valois, La France et le Grand Schisme d’Occident (Paris: Picard, 1896–1902), 4 vols., edited and translated scores of documents.

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16 l introduction Archival material on Rome’s history is not as abundant. I found limited documentation in Rome’s Archivio Capitalino during one of its coldest Januarys on record.60 I understood then how cold Rome could get – and medieval chroniclers’ bemoaning the snow and cold of medieval Rome hit home. The paucity of Roman archival records is overcome with various chronicles (and a rich historiography that is detailed in Chapter 6).61 Standing out from the rest, Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo: Dal 19 ottobre 1404 al 25 settembre 1417 offers an abundance of information for Rome during the later years of the Schism and King Ladislaus’s frayed politics.62 Furthermore, three volumes deliver additional relevant information on the history of the city during the Schism and its topography: Camilo Re’s Statuti della cittá di Roma, Roberto Valentini and Giuseppe Zucchetti’s Codice topografico della città di Roma, and Paola Supino’s La “Margarita Cornetana.”63 My analysis of papal bullae in Chapter 2 is based on two continuously evolving websites. I had to provide an end date to make tabulations relevant; the information I used is based on records accessed on December 19, 2019.64 The analyses of the Feasts of the Presentation and Visitation in the same chapter were grounded on the edition of William E. Coleman’s Philippe de Mézières’ Campaign for the Feast of Mary’s Presentation, James Boyce and William E. Coleman’s Officium presentationis Beate Virginis Marie in Templo, and Iaroslaus V. Polc’s De origine festi visitationis.65 Records of Richard II’s depositions, as discussed in Chapter 4, were edited by David R. Carlson.66

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See the ledgers of Paulus de Serromanis (1359–1387), Rome, Archivio Capitalino, Notai, Sezione I, vol. 649/7, 27r. and, in the ledger of his successor Lellus Pauli de Serromanis (1387–1398), Rome, Archivio Capitalino, Notai, Sezione I, vol. 763/1.1, fol. 4v., 19v.–21, 22. See also Archivio Capitolino, Credenzone XIV, vol. 6, 108r–11r. 61 See Thoma de Acerno, “De creation Urbani VI,” in Rerum italicarum scriptores, ed. Ludovico Antonio Muratori (1734), vol. 3, part. 2, 726; Lorenzo Mehus, Epistola o sia ragionamento di Messer Lapo da Castiglionchio (Bologna: Girolamo Corciolani, 1753); Cronica volgare di Anonimo Fiorentino dall’ anno 1385 al 1409 già attribuita a Piero di Giovanni Minerbetti, ed. Elina Bellondi (Città di Castello: S. Lapi, 1915–1918); Diario della città di Roma di Stefano Infessura, ed. Oreste Tommasini (Rome: Forzani, 1890); Le croniche di Giovanni Sercambi, Lucchese, ed. Salvatore Bongi (Lucca, Tipographia Giusti, 1892); and Adam Usk, and Chris Given-Wilson, The Chronicle of Adam Usk, 1377–1421 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2008). 62 Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo: Dal 19 ottobre 1404 al 25 settembre 1417, ed. Francesco Isoldi (Città di Castello: Rerum Italicarum scriptores, 1917). 63 Camilo Re, Statuti della cittá di Roma (Rome: Tipografia della Pace, 1880); Roberto Valentini and Giuseppe Zucchetti, Codice topografico della città di Roma (Rome: Tipografia del Senato, 1953), 4 vols.; and Paola Supino, ed., La “Margarita Cornetana”: Regesto dei documenti (Rome: Presso la Società alla Biblioteca Vallicelliana, 1969). 64 https://finds.org.uk/database/search/results/q/bulla/show/100/objectType/BULLA (accessed on December 19, 2019) which itemizes some 300 bulls, and www.facebook.com/ PortableAntiquitiesNetherlands/ (also accessed on December 19, 2019) 65 William E. Coleman, Philippe de Mézières’ Campaign for the Feast of Mary’s Presentation, edited from Bibliothèque Nationale MSS. Latin 17330 and 14454 (Toronto: Pontifical Institute for Medieval Studies, 1981); James Boyce, and William E. Coleman, Officium presentationis Beate Virginis Marie in Templo: Office of the Presentation of the Blessed Virgin Mary which Is Celebrated on the 21st Day of November (Ottawa: Institute of Mediæval Music, 2001); and Iaroslaus V. Polc, De origine festi visitationis B.M.V. (Rome: Pontificia Università Lateranense, 1967). 66 David R. Carlson, The Deposition of Richard II: “The Record and Process of the Renunciation and Deposition of Richard II” (1399) (Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies, 2007).

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A Note on Primary Sources k 17 The sources for Chapter 3, “Images and Responses,” were more difficult to access. These include the following: Antonio Baldana’s de magno Schismate, Ulrich Richenthal’s chronicle, and the Apocalypse Tapestry of Angers. Antonio Baldana’s delightful chronicle is at the Biblioteca Palatina in Parma (MS Parmense 1194). I made a transcription during a trip researching an earlier book and therefore did not return to the beautiful library. I used my 2010 transcription. I relied on editions of Ulrich Richenthal’s chronicle, especially the images of the facsimile edited by Otto Feger in 1964 – a facsimile of Constance’s Rosgartenmuseum manuscript, dated roughly 1464.67 As for the magnificent Angers tapestry, it has been on display at Angers castle since 1954.68 Unless otherwise noted, all translations are mine. I have “Americanized” the names of familiar historical characters, for example, Robert of Geneva, Louis of Anjou, Charles, and Ladislaus of Durazzo. In most cases, however, I have kept the original form of European names, for example, Pierre de Cros, François de Conzié, and Pedro de Luna. Since German historiography utilizes both spellings, I opted for the traditional Ulrich Richenthal, over Richental, in my narrative.

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Ulrich Richenthal, Das Konzil Zu Konstanz, ed. Otto Feger (Starnberg: Josef Keller Verlag, 1964), 2 vols. see www.chateau-angers.fr/Explorer/La-Tapisserie-de-l-Apocalypse. (Accessed on February 16, 2021).

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1 The Great Western Schism A Social Drama

today were to do a quick search on the “Great Western Schism,” they would no doubt start with Google, which would lead them to Wikipedia, the old and new Catholic Encyclopedia, and maybe Philippe Levillain’s The Papacy: An Encyclopedia. From Wikipedia, a student will learn that the Schism was a split within the Catholic Church with up to three men claiming to be popes, that it was driven by “authoritative politics” rather than theology, and that it ended with a council. It is called an “affair,” and it damaged the papacy. While the article keeps being updated, it remains ensconced in the century-old historiography of the Catholic Encyclopedia.1 The new echoes the old. The older, recycled article in the Catholic Encyclopedia was authored by a specialist of the field, but not without biases. At the beginning of the twentieth century, the deeply papist Louis Salembier calls the Schism a “temporary misunderstanding, even though it compelled the Church for forty years to seek its true head; it was fed by politics and passions.”2 In other words, it was a forty-year accidental hiccup moved by men’s misunderstanding of “doctrinal monstrosities.”3 Walter Ullmann, a specialist of medieval law, wrote the New Catholic Encyclopedia’s article in the 1960s. Separating himself from a historiography that had up to then insisted on the nationalistic and personalistic aspects of the crisis, he emphasized ideology. He suggested that the election was canonical and that the new pope “wished to restore the proper monarchic function of the pope vis-à-vis the cardinals.”4 Ullmann brought up the issue of the cardinals’ quest for some form of oligarchic papal regime.5 But Ullmann added

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https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Western_Schism (accessed on February 16, 2021). I accept the rebuttal that specialists should intervene and correct entries rather than criticize them. 2 Louis Salembier, “Western Schism,” in The Catholic Encyclopedia (New York: Robert Appleton Company, 1912), vol. 13. www.newadvent.org/cathen/13539a.htm (accessed on February 16, 2021). 3 Louis Salembier, The Great Schism of the West, trans. M. D. (London: Paul Kegan, Trench, Trübner & Co., 1907), 12. 4 Walter Ullmann, “Western Schism,” in The New Catholic Encyclopedia, 2nd ed. (Detroit: Gale, 2003), 14: 691. 5 This is also what he argues in Walter Ullmann, The Origins of the Great Schism (London: Burns Oates & Washbourne Ltd., 1948).

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The Great Western Schism k 19 something refreshing: “The election of Clement [VII] was significant in two ways: (1) one and the same College had elected two popes; (2) such action starkly demonstrated a serious defect in the law of the Church, which provided no constitutional means of dealing with an obviously unsuitable pope.”6 A legal specialist, Ullmann confronted a rarely asked question, What to do with an unfit pope?7 Since the Church never drafted regulations addressing the eventuality, cardinals were cornered into taking an unsavory medication. By claiming that the election was unfree, they could annul it and name a replacement. Regardless of his fresh thinking, Ullmann still reverted to a traditional topos. The papacy lost dignity and authority with the Schism, and “the result was utter chaos during the period.”8 These few descriptions fit the traditionally curia-negative, post-Reformation historiography that usually lists the Schism, along with the so-called Babylonian Captivity (the Avignon papacy) and conciliarism, as some of the Reformation’s causes and precedents. A perusal of university syllabi for courses addressing the Reformation would easily demonstrate the predominance of this approach. Bénédicte Sère recently continues this post-Reformation approach while revising it.9 Her aim is to demonstrate how the Church manipulated its very own history and memorialization to fit the needs of the present – a present that follows Vatican II’s collegial efforts. Her essay explores the “genealogy” of the Church-Politic born out of Vatican II (l’invention de l’église, I would add politique). Facing threats, fracture, and reforms, the Church built its own linear history through seven markers identified by the author as conciliarism, constitutionalism, collegiality, antireformism, antiromanism, medievalism, and infallibilism, all finding their roots not only in the Middle Ages but more so in the Great Western Schism. Key to this construction, the Schism and its councils split ecclesiological historiography in half. On the one side stood defenders of conciliarism, a counterpower limiting papal absolutism, henceforth “antiromanist” or anti-papalist, on the other side, a papalist front, stood supporters of an absolute papacy. Both sides manipulated their historiographies to adapt and fit into their own mold with little or no nuance. In contrast, scholars such as Jean Gerson or Pierre d’Ailly reflected deeply and projected in shades of gray, rather than black and white. Sère’s conclusion leads us to a certain form of ecclesiological medievalism that invented an ecclesiological Middle Ages that fit into its modern linear narrative. Here the Schism becomes the genesis of the modern Church. For Howard Kaminsky, the institutional culture that grew from the Avignon papacy was directly responsible for the break. While labeling the Avignon papacy a “triumphant construction of papal monarchy,” he accuses it of “reifying the ecclesiastical institution into a system of benefices apprehended as property rights, the acquisition and preservation of which were the primary objects of clerical interest.”10 The consequence of such an attitude was a general disinterest in all things “papal.” In the minds of the silent majority, the Ullmann, “Western Schism,” 692. We can note that the question of what to do with an unfit monarch was never asked, despite the fact that an unfit monarch ruled: Charles VI of France. 8 Ullmann, “Western Schism,” 693. 9 Bénédicte Sère, L’invention de l’Église: Essai sur la genèse ecclésiale du politique, entre Moyen Âge et modernité (Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 2019). 10 Howard Kaminsky, “The Great Schism,” in The New Cambridge Medieval History, ed. Michael Jones (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 6: 679; Kaminsky also blames Charles V and Louis of Anjou see, 678. 6 7

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20 l the great western schism survival of the institution became largely detached from the issue of salvation. This disconnection explains the lack of a massive response to extinguish the Schism. As Robert Norman Swanson states, “the schism was not, therefore, a matter of belief, but of administration.” This explains why the response on the ground was “cavalier.”11 Most of the Schism’s summaries put emphasis on the injury the crisis caused the papacy and consequently stress the failed reforms of the conciliar movement, which paved the way for the Reformation. But, of course, this is hindsight; there were no protestants in the fourteenth century. In addition, a subsequent chapter on tyranny (Chapter 4) will argue that if the Schism did damage the papacy, it also damaged monarchies. In summary, the Schism needs to be taken at face value, for what it was and meant at the time. Hélène Millet’s article in The Papacy: An Encyclopedia offers her reader a “neutral” summary, considering the faithful’s reactions at higher and lower social levels, along with a balanced gaze at the historiography. While many authors still use the term of antipopes, Millet reminds us that the Church never took a stance on Urban VI’s election and on the Council of Pisa (1409) – one of the councils that aimed at its resolution – and its own obedience. It failed thus to address the issue of the legitimacy of the Schism’s popes. Branding any pope of the Schism antipope automatically reflects the partiality of the author, often grounded in national allegiance and religious confession.12 Ideology has often marred the historiography of the Schism, a moment unique in history, and recognized as such in its time. In 1408, Cardinal Uguccione emphasized this uniqueness to the British crown. He stated, “The case of the present schism has no parallel in the law nor in chronicles and moreover no way out of such a schism has been determined. Therefore human ingenuity must find a way out of the said schism by any reasonable means.”13 The preceding quick overview of the historiography shows that only the twenty-first century has started to consider the Schism in emic fashion. The most recent academic discussion of the crisis, the 2009 A Companion to the Great Western Schism (1378–1417), disengages itself from partisan rhetoric in an attempt to present a clearer image of its causes and consequences.14 The volume belongs to a new historiography that extricates the Schism from its traditional “ecclesiastical politics and polemics” to focus on the cultural, pastoral, and social.15 Also, the Schism has recently attracted cultural historians.16 11

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Robert N. Swanson, “Obedient and Disobedient in the Great Schism,” Archivum historiae pontificiae 22 (1984), 377–78. Hélène Millet, “Great Schism of the West (1348–1417),” in The Papacy: An Encyclopedia, ed. Philippe Levillain and John O’Malley (New York: Routledge 2002), 632–38. C. M. D. Crowder, Unity, Heresy, and Reform, 1378–1460: The Conciliar Response to the Great Schism (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1977), 49. Joëlle Rollo-Koster and Thomas M. Izbicki, ed., A Companion to the Great Western Schism (1378–1417) (Leiden: Brill, 2009). I offer an outline of the Schism, and its repercussion on Avignon, in Joëlle Rollo-Koster, Avignon and Its Papacy (1309–1417): Popes, Institutions, and Society (Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield, 2015), 239–86. Joëlle Rollo-Koster and Thomas M. Izbicki, “Introduction: The Great Schism and the Scholarly Record,” in A Companion to the Great Western Schism (1378–1417), ed. Joëlle Rollo-Koster and Thomas M. Izbicki (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 2. See Renate Blumenfeld-Kosinski, Poets, Saints, and Visionaries of the Great Schism, 1378–1417 (University Park: Penn State Press, 2006); Francesca Manzari, La miniatura ad Avignone al tempo dei Papi, 1310–1410 (Modena: Franco Cosimo Panini Editore, 2006); and Cathleen Fleck, The Clement Bible at the Medieval Courts of Naples and Avignon: A Story of Papal Power, Royal Prestige,

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The Great Western Schism k 21 Although focused on politics, the historiography of the Schism often takes implicit dramatic undertones. One only needs to read a few pages of Louis Salembier’s prose to encounter hyperbolic metaphors. He employs terms such as “fearful crisis,” “painful struggles,” “fatal division,” and “madness and disorder.”17 Modern descriptions of efforts at healing the break, even if grounded in contemporary writings, use mostly theatrical metaphors. The Schism took two, three, or four acts (my italics) to solve. The historiography invariably launches into discussions over the various “ways” or “roads” that led successively to solutions, as it most often enumerates the three viae (ways) – facti (war), cessionis (resignation of both popes, leading to abandonment of obedience if they resist), and concilii (council) – used to solve the crisis. One can add a fourth, suggested but less often deployed, way, namely, the via compromissi – the use of negotiators or arbitrators whom both popes must heed.18 Hélène Millet follows a different route and divides her analysis in two acts, the early and late Schism, a first and second age (âge du schisme), the first dedicated to identifying the legitimate pope and the second to finding union.19 Her division into “ages” brings us back to medieval universal chronicles and their Christian historiography that distinguished six ages of men with their matching historical eras.20 The compartmentalization of the Schism’s history into neatly organized “categories,” again used with hindsight, brings some form of order into its chaos. As the Schism progressed, solutions became acts of rational steps toward a resolution – acts that would lead to the final denouement: first war, then a push for the pope’s resignation, subtractions of obedience, and finally councils. While the post-Shakespearean world falls comfortably in line with this format, the main issue remains that medieval drama had no act.21 Thus, the history of the Schism can feel constructed and manipulated, to fit a modern intellectual understanding. Most contemporary narrations of the crisis hold a certain cadence and flow – perhaps a reflection of contemporary authors’ innate liturgical rhythms. Pierre d’Ailly in his 1381 disputation, “Utrum indoctus in jure divino posset juste praeesse in Ecclesiae regno,” announced the various stages that could produce a solution.22 He put forward two roads

and Patronage (Aldershot: Ashgate Press, 2010). And arguing for a cultural history of the “controversial facts,” see Bénédicte Sère, Les débats d’opinion à l’heure du Grand Schisme: Ecclésiologie et politique (Turnhout: Brepols, 2016). 17 Salembier, The Great Schism, 1, 2, 8. 18 See, for example, Blumenfeld-Kosinski, Poets, Saints, and Visionaries, 8. 19 Hélène Millet, L’Église du Grand Schisme, 1378–1417 (Paris: Picard, 2006), 13–14. 20 See Michele Campopiano, “Introduction: New Perspectives on Universal Chronicles in the High Middle Ages,” in Universal Chronicles in the High Middle Ages, ed. Michele Campopiano and Henry Bainton (York: York Medieval Press, 2018), 1–18. 21 For an intellectual understanding of medieval theater, see Donnalee Dox, The Idea of the Theater in Latin Christian Thought: Augustine to the Fourteenth Century (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2004); Carol Symes, “Medieval Europe 814–1450: Theater,” in Medieval Europe 814–1450, ed. Edward I. Bleiberg, James Allan Evans, Kristen Mossler Figg, Philip M. Soergel, and John Block Friedman (Detroit: Gale, 2005), 3: 377–418; and “The Medieval Archive and the History of Theatre: Assessing the Written and Unwritten Evidence for Premodern Performance,” Theatre Survey 52, no. 1 (2011): 29–58. 22 Johannes Gerson and Louis Ellies Du Pin, Joannis Gersonii Opera omnia (La Hague: Petrum de Hondt, 1728), 5 vols., edits the work of Pierre d’Ailly (Petrus de Alliaco) in 1: 646–62. A recent biography by specialists of the field narrates his activities and intellectual life, see Hélène Millet et Monique Maillard-Luypaert, Le schisme et la pourpre. Le cardinal Pierre d’Ailly, homme de science et de foi (Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 2015).

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22 l the great western schism to heal the crisis. The first was severe: it involved excommunications and wars (via rigoris also labeled via facti). In contrast, the second was caring, advocating a triple-pronged approach: the call of a general council, the negotiation of a compromise/arbitration without the call of a general council, and finally the voluntary resignation/abdication of the popes and a new election.23 The council was favored early on by a young d’Ailly, following the lead of Conrad of Gelnhausen and Henry of Langenstein.24 When the break still divided Europe in 1394, the University of Paris gave the opinion that there were only three ways to solve it: via concilii generalis (by a general council), via compromissi (by arbitration), and via cessionis (by abdication of the rival claimants).25 While these solutions offered a certain elegant symmetry, it remains that the Schism was a conflict, and its analysis falls organically into the socio-scientific analysis of “social drama.” Arguing from Kenneth Burke’s dramatism, Victor Turner developed his analysis of social dramas as “an objectively isolable sequence of social interactions of a conflictive, competitive, or agonistic type.”26 Elizabeth Bell, interpreting Turner, adds, “simply put, the social drama is Turner’s label for what happens in a community when someone breaks a rule, how

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Quantum ad primum, sciendum est quod ad sedationem hujus scandalosi schismatis, in genere duae viae tanguntur. Una est via rigoris: alia est via amoris. Prima via, est illorum qui dicunt, quod in hoc casu procedendum est contra schismaticos per excommunicationes & bellorum impugnationes: secunda via est dicentium contrarium; et ista est tripartita. Prima via ponit quod istud schisma convenientius potest terminari per Concilii generalis determinationem: secunda, quod per compromissi sive concilii particularis arbitrariam ordinationem: tertia, quod per alterius vel utriusque electorum voluntariam cessionem, et nova electionem. Du Pin, Joannis Gersonii, 1: 657. See also Robert Norman Swanson, Universities, Academics and the Great Schism (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1979); and “The Way of Action: Pierre d’Ailly and the Military Solution to the Great Schism,” Studies in Church History 20 (1983): 191–200. See Franz Plazidus Bliemetzrieder, Literarische Polemik zu Beginn des grossen abendlänischen Schismas (Kardinal Petrus Flandrin, Kardinal Petrus Amelii, Konrad von Gelnhausen). Ungedruckt Texte Und Untersuchungen (Vienna: F. Tempsky, 1910); Matthew Spinka, Advocates of Reform, from Wyclif to Erasmus (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1953), 106–39; Georg Kreuzer, Heinrich von Langenstein: Studien zur Biographie und zu den Schismatraktaten unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der “Epistola pacis” und “Epistola concilii pacis” (Paderborn: Ferdinand Schöningh, 1987); and HansJürgen Becker, Konrad von Gelnhausen: Die kirchenpolitischen Schriften (Paderborn: Ferdinand Schöningh, 2018). The latter author itemizes some sixty-five “pamphlets” between 1378 and 1399 that proposed one of the solutions: war, cession, compromise, or the call of a general council, see pages 29–50. Konrad von Gelnhausen, who taught at the University of Paris, wrote his briefs at the request of the king of France, Charles V, advocating a general council called by secular princes. He then circulated them to the rest of Europe and the Empire. There is an interesting discussion of early conciliar theory in Gerald Christianson, “Introduction: The Conciliar Tradition: Insights for an Ecumenical Dialogue,” in The Church, the Councils, and Reform: The Legacy of the Fifteenth Century, ed. Gerald Christianson, Thomas M. Izbicki, and Christopher M. Bellitto (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 2008), 1–24. See, for example, Heinrich Denifle and Émile Chatelain, Chartularium Universitatis parisiensis (Paris: Ex Typis Fratrum Delalain, 1894), 3: 552, 595–97, 605–6; and Guillaume Henri Marie Posthumus Meyjes, Jean Gerson, Apostle of Unity: His Church Politics and Ecclesiology, trans. J. C. Grayson (Leiden: Brill, 1999), 11–71. For the definition of dramatism, see Elizabeth Bell, Theories of Performance (Los Angeles: Sage Publications, 2008), 96. For social drama, see Victor W. Turner, The Anthropology of Performance (New York: PAJ Publications, 1986), 33.

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Breach k 23 the community then takes sides for or against the rule breaker, and how the community works to resolve this problem.”27 Arguing from Turner’s analysis, one could propose that medieval thinkers’ paths to solutions, the various viae, mapped the processual actions needed to solve this particular social drama. The Schism followed a processual evolution that went from breach to crisis, redressive action, and reintegration.28 As Turner states, “The problem, of course, remains of how to account for the fact that the social drama is processually ‘structured’ before any story about it has been told.”29 The following will narrate the history of the Schism using the universal models defined by Victor Turner. What this approach offers is an examination of how a particular conflict, which may have been legal and institutional at the start, still remained social and cultural. Within a historiography that has leaned toward the institutional, humanizing the crisis makes it a unique historical moment, if not an exceptional one. Contrary to certain historians’ expectations that the Schism was “elitist” and did not affect people, treating it as a social drama can explain some of the extraordinary behaviors deployed during its length, which will be analyzed in the following chapters.30 These behaviors identified, if it can be labeled as such, the grammar of social drama, underpinned by various forms of performance. The following narration may at times feel hasty, but pivotal moments will be emphasized in later chapters.

Breach: The 1378 Election s its name suggests, breach is the first stage of the crisis, the initial break with socially binding norms. Turner opens or restricts his definition pretty loosely, but it must be public and visible. He defines it summarily as

A

breach of regular norm-governed social relations made publicly visible by the infraction of a rule ordinarily held to be binding, and which is itself a symbol of the maintenance of some major relationship between persons, statuses, or subgroups held to be a key link in the integrality of the widest community recognized to be a cultural envelope of solidarity sentiments.31

In 1378, the same College of Cardinals elected two popes more or less concurrently, without either pope having died. There had been antipopes previously, all issued from papal-imperial confrontations over the Gelasian theory of the two swords, temporal and spiritual, and who controlled which. Conditions were utterly different in 1378. This election threw asunder the hierarchical relationship between the head of the Catholic Church, its 27 28

29 30

31

Bell, Theories of Performance, 106. Victor W. Turner and Edith L. B. Turner, On the Edge of the Bush: Anthropology as Experience (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1985), 180. Turner, The Anthropology of Performance, 33. See the discussion by Philip Daileader, “Local Experiences of the Great Western Schism,” in A Companion to the Great Western Schism (1378–1417), ed. Joëlle Rollo-Koster and Thomas Izbicki (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 89–121. Respectively in Turner, On the Edge of the Bush, 180; The Anthropology of Performance, 34. Clarification is offered in Bell, Theories of Performance, 107.

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24 l the great western schism administration, the faithful, and the pope’s fullness of power (plenitudo potestatis). The question as to why the College did it remains open. Without returning in any lengthy form to the Schism’s initiation, we can summarize its recent historiography in a few brush strokes.32 It seems that most historians agree that the 1378 election suffered from a concatenation of events, with authors singling out their favorite trigger. Some argue for a cluster of incidences: return of the papacy to Rome after a long absence, Roman unruliness, Urban VI’s character, and cardinals’ growing prerogatives.33 Some privilege the Avignon papacy per se, often extending the blame to the king of France, Charles V. But again, the historiography is biased. The staunchly Urbanist Norman cleric who authored the Chronique des quatre premier Valois suggests that on his deathbed Charles V regretted his choice of supporting Clement VII over Urban VI.34 In any case, once returned to Avignon, Clement and his court epitomized a new centralized papacy, close to France physically and politically, focused on administration, conquests, and finances, something that Italian states abhorred and fought but most often navigated (this, in essence, is also the history of the fourteenth-century Papal States, and Western “international” relations).35 Along with certain contemporaries such as Nicolas de Clamanges, the majority of historians lay the blame on the cardinals.36 Armand Jamme is correct in asserting that the 1378 election is certainly the best-documented papal election of the Middle Ages; and as

32

33

34

35

36

The hallmarks of the older historiography remain in Noël Valois, “L’élection d’Urbain VI et les origines du grand schisme d’Occident,” Revue des questions historiques 48 (1890): 353–420; Walter Ullmann, The Origins of the Great Schism, a Study in Fourteenth-Century Ecclesiastical History (London: Burns Oates and Washbourne, 1948; and Olderico Přerovský, L’ elezione di Urbano VI e l’insorgere dello scisma d’Occidente (Rome: Presso la R. deputazione alla Biblioteca vallicelliana, 1960). This multiplicity is conveyed in Genèse et débuts du grand schisme d’ Occident: Colloque tenu à Avignon, 25–28 septembre 1978, ed. Jean Favier (Paris: Éditions du CNRS, 1980); and the more recent Jean Favier, Les papes d’Avignon (Paris: Fayard, 2006), 549–67. En ce dit an mil trois cens quatre vingt, le quinziesme jour du mois de septembre, trespassa de cest siecle Charles le roy de France, filz du roy Jehan de France, à Beaulté sur Marne au bout du bois de Vincennes. Et comme le dit roy se sent griefment malade, sa crestienté le remort de ce qu’il avoit soustenu le pape Clement qui fut cardinal de Genevre contre le pape Urbain. Et dit que, se le pape Clement ne obstenoit deuement le Saint Siege, en tant comme il le avoit soustenu, et se pechié y avoit, il en crioit à Dieu mercy. Et oultre il se rapportoit et creoit du tout en l’ordonnance de saincte Eglise et eu general concille de toute Crestienté. Siméon Luce, ed., Chronique des quatre premiers Valois (1327–1393) (Paris: Société de l’Histoire de France, 1862), 287. See Peter Partner, The Lands of St Peter: The Papal State in the Middle Ages and the Early Renaissance (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1972); and Guillaume Mollat, Les papes d’Avignon (1305–1378) (Paris: V. Lecoffre, 1912). Along with a French papacy, the major historian of the crisis, Noël Valois, accepts by inference the blame laid on the king of France, Charles V, since he attempts to demonstrate that he was not responsible. See Valois, La France, 4 vols. See Nicolas de Clémanges, “Nicolas de Clémanges Criticizes the Cardinals (c. 1400),” in C. M. D. Crowder, Unity, Heresy, and Reform, 1378–1460: The Conciliar Response to the Great Schism (New York: St. Martin’s, 1977), 45–47. Modern authors are best exemplified by the essays of Bernard Guillemain, Edith Paztor, and Henri Bresc in Genèse et débuts du grand schisme d’Occident: Colloque tenu à Avignon, 25–28 septembre 1978, ed. Jean Favier (Paris: Éditions du CNRS, 1980), 19–64.

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Breach k 25 most specialists concede, the election and consequent Schism resulted from a structural imbalance between papal absolutism and cardinals’ oligarchic aspirations.37 After the papal monarchy of the central Middle Ages, the Avignon College of Cardinals grew strong in prerogatives, following it seems a natural maturation that emboldened it toward an oligarchic papal regime.38 Still, the College remained papalist, if only to serve its own interest. It was not antipapal as defined by contemporary authors such as Marsilio da Padova and William of Ockham, or the University of Paris after 1394.39 However, there is no doubt that the College resented Urban VI for his zealous attempts at reforming it, including his effort at starving off its financial needs.40 Gregory XI’s cardinals are often presented as a geographico-linguistic binary, the French and the Italians. But they were more minutely fragmented than that. Simplistic national divisions mask allegiances deeper than geography. Lobbies formed principally vertically and horizontally around kinship, family, and clients, and to a lesser degree around regional solidarities. In general, a cardinal familia and “lobby” were one, mixing kin and clients with regional solidarities. In April 1378, the cardinals were divided into three “lobbies.” The first was the Limousin (from Limoges) lobby, composed of seven: five Limousins and two “outsiders.” They were Jean de Cros, Cardinal of Limoges; Guillaume d’Aigrefeuille; Pierre de Vergne; Guy de Malesset, Cardinal of Poitiers; and Géraud du Puy, Cardinal of Marmoutier; then the Cahorsin (Cahors) Pierre de Sortenac, Cardinal of Viviers, and probably Guillaume Noëllet, Cardinal of Sant’Angelo, from Angoulême. The second lobby comprised three “northern” French: Bertrand Latgier, Cardinal of Glandève; Hugues de Montalais, Cardinal of Bretagne; and Pierre Flandrin, Cardinal of SaintEustache, with whom Robert of Geneva and Pedro de Luna adhered. The last lobby was four Italians: Pietro Corsini, Cardinal of Florence; Francesco Tebaldeschi, Cardinal of San Pietro; Simone Borsano, Cardinal of Milan; and Jacopo Orsini, Cardinal-Deacon of San Georgio. These three lobbies were in turn divided between ultramontane and Italian parties. We can assume that Prignano represented a compromise between Italian wishes (thus keener to remain in Rome than returning to

Armand Jamme, “Renverser le pape: Droits, complots et conceptions politiques aux origins du Grand Schisme d’Occident,” in Coups d’État à la fin du Moyen Âge? Aux fondements du pouvoir politique en Europe occidentale, ed. François Foronda, Jean-Philippe Genet, and José Manuel Nieto Soria (Madrid: Casa de Velazquez, 2005), 433–82. For a short but effective survey of the late medieval cardinalate, see Barbara Bombi, “The Medieval Background of the Cardinal’s Office,” and Bernward Schmidt, “Cardinals, Bishops, and Councils,” in A Companion to the Early Modern Cardinal, ed. Mary Hollingsworth, Miles Pattenden, and Arnold Witte (Leiden: Brill, 2020), 9–22 and 91–96 respectively. 38 See, for example, Ullmann, The Origins of the Great Schism, who makes it the cornerstone of his argument. Kaminsky summarizes this general approach. See Kaminsky, “The Great Schism,” 674–96. 39 See Bénédicte Sère, L’invention de l’Église: Essai sur la genèse ecclésiale du politique, entre Moyen Âge et modernité (Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 2019). 40 This is the approach taken by Stefan Weiß, “Luxury and Extravagance at the Papal Court in Avignon and the Outbreak of the Great Western Schism,” in A Companion to the Great Western Schism (1378–1417), ed. Joëlle Rollo-Koster and Thomas Izbicki (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2009), 67–87. 37

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26 l the great western schism Avignon, something favored by the Roman crowd) and experience, with his long acquaintance with the curial administration as head of the Chancery.41 Using the treatise on the initiation of the Schism left by Alfonso Pecha, the Spanish confessor of Cardinal Pedro de Luna, Robert Lerner, uses a multifaceted approach to the Schism’s initiation.42 Pecha, who wrote an Informationes super creatione Urbani in March 1379, in support of Urban VI, also wrote a Conscriptio, circa 1386, while Urban VI was in Genoa, still in his defense. As a close witness to the events, and well informed by his insider acquaintances – Cardinal Pedro de Luna, Agapito Colonna (chaplain of Cardinal Robert of Geneva), and Nicholas da Cremona, familiar of the Cardinal d’Aigrefeuille – Pecha defends Urban’s legitimacy by way of vision, events, and law. Pecha lays the crisis on both cardinals and the king of France, accentuating that the archbishop of Bari had been agreed on by the majority before the conclave. Pecha addresses the internal politics of the College: his discussion of papabile takes the French/Limousin discord into account. The proposal by Robert of Geneva to name Agapito Colonna quickly fell apart in a Rome divided by the Colonna/Orsini rivalry. The agreement on Prignano – about whom Agapito Colonna would have said, “et si esset papa faceret quidquid ipse cardinalis vellet,” (and if he were elected, he would do whatever the cardinal wants) – satisfied all parties.43 Alfonso Pecha also suggests quite vividly the cardinals’ disinterest in the new pope’s spiritual zeal. When, after his election, Urban wanted to make a sermon on the theme of “Timor et tremor venerunt super me [Psalm 54:6]” (I will sacrifice a freewill offering to you; I will praise your name, Lord, for it is good), certain cardinals interrupted him, stating that a sermon was not necessary.44 He also notes how quickly Urban started reprimanding his College.45 Pecha, however, adds an important component to the initiation’s narrative by identifying French involvement. As Lerner emphasizes, the historiography has mostly followed Noël Valois and exonerated France, which supported Urban in a first phase and only disavowed him after the cardinals’ intervention with the king.46 Here Pecha blames the cardinalate

On the cardinal lobbies, see Valois, “L’élection d’Urbain VI,” 371–72; Bernard Guillemain, “Cardinaux et société curiale aux origines de la double élection de 1378,” in Genèse et débuts du grand schisme d’ Occident: Colloque tenu à Avignon, 25–28 septembre 1978, ed. Jean Favier (Paris: Éditions du CNRS, 1980), 19–30; and Henri Bresc, “La genèse du schisme: Les partis cardinalices et leurs ambitions dynastiques: Sur Pierre Ameilh,” in Genèse et débuts du grand schisme d’ Occident: Colloque tenu à Avignon, 25–28 septembre 1978, ed. Jean Favier (Paris: Éditions du CNRS, 1980), 45–57. 42 Robert E. Lerner, “Alfonso Pecha’s Treatise on the Origins of the Great Schism: What an Insider ‘Saw and Heard,’” Traditio 72 (2017): 411–51. 43 Lerner, “Alfonso Pecha’s Treatise on the Origins of the Great Schism,” 440. 44 Lerner, “Alfonso Pecha’s Treatise on the Origins of the Great Schism,” 445. 45 “Sed ipse dominus papa incepit statim exasperare dictos cardinales, reprehendere, redarguere et increpare suis verbis et gestibus acriter.” Lerner, “Alfonso Pecha’s Treatise on the Origins of the Great Schism,” 446. 46 Lerner, “Alfonso Pecha’s Treatise on the Origins of the Great Schism,” 423. Stefan Weiß, “Onkel und Neffe: Die Beziehungen zwischen Deutschland und Frankreich unter Kaiser Karl IV. und König Karl V. und der Ausbruch des Großen Abendländischen Schismas. Eine Studie über mittelalterliche Außenpolitik,” in Regnum et Imperium Die französisch-deutschen Beziehungen im 14. und 15. Jahrhundert/Les relations franco-allemandes au XIVe et au XVe siècle, ed. Stefan Weiß (Munich: R. Oldenbourg Verlag, 2008), 101–64, also questions this over emphasis on the ties uniting France and the Avignon papacy. 41

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Breach k 27 French party, and especially Jean de la Grange and Robert of Geneva, who complained to the king of the Limousins’ responsibility in the election of an Italian. Thus, the cardinals actively searched for French support before demoting Urban and electing Robert of Geneva as Clement VII. Rome has also been taken into consideration. Communal Rome was headed by the powerful Felice Società dei Balestrieri e dei Pavesati from roughly 1360 (discussed at length in Chapter 6). Nominally nonexistent politically, the Society was Rome’s de facto popular government; Società and Commune were interchangeable.47 It managed Roman politics throughout the second half of the fourteenth century and controlled an armed militia that offset baronial powers. Two banderesi commanded this militia. Fearing the departure of the newly returned papacy, the Roman militia and its banderesi simultaneously attempted to protect and intimidate the mostly French court. At the death of Gregory, the Banderenses, along with the twelve heads of regions and other officials, “pressured” the papal court for the election of a Roman pope.48 As Jean-Claude Maire Vigueur states, they [the banderesi] applied continual pressure on the cardinals without challenging formally the sacrosanct rule prohibiting non-members of the Sacred College from entering the conclave – they never did enter it but they had ample opportunity to speak to the cardinals through an aperture made in one of the doors of the conclave. Nothing could have been simpler as one of the two guards required by the rules governing the conclave was one of the two banderesi, Nardo di Leonardo.49

Nardo was a friend of Pierre Gandelin, keeper of Castel Sant’ Angelo. According to Gandelin, Nardo would have been paid off by Prignano before his election. Thus, banderesi ruled the city, tried to impress the court, and, as Maire Vigueur emphasizes, the armed militia followed the political will of the commune.50 Evidence shows that Roman enthusiasm for the election did lean toward rambunctiousness and violence and could translate into fear for anyone unaware of electoral traditions – if any. The commune welcomed its pope back but could only regret the political freedom it had enjoyed while the papacy was gone.51 This type of resentment was well exemplified in the communal authorities’ actions. However, according to Andreas Rehberg, Romans have unjustly taken the blame.52 Scouring the Libri de Schismate, he has recently addressed their See Jean-Claude Maire Vigueur, “La Felice Societas dei balestrieri e dei pavesati a Roma: Una società popolare e i suoi ufficiali,” in Scritti per Isa. Raccolta di studi offerti a Isa Lori Sanfilippo, ed. Antonella Mazzon (Rome: Istituto Storico Italiano per il Medio Evo, 2008), 1–16; and The Forgotten Story: Rome in the Communal Period, trans. David Fairservice (Rome: Viella, 2016). 48 “Post mortem enim Gregorii pape Bandarenses et duodecim capita regionum cum ceteris officiariis qui pro tunc Romam et Romanum populum regebant, manu armata ac cum populi multitudine copiosa congregati coegerunt, compulerunt et artaverunt cardinales tunc Rome existentes, et ad quos pro tunc romani pontificis electio pertinebat.” Baluze, Vitae, 1: 469. 49 Maire Vigueur, The Forgotten Story, 255. 50 Maire Vigueur, The Forgotten Story, 257. 51 See Margaret Harvey, The English in Rome 1362–1460: Portrait of an Expatriate Community (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999). 52 Andreas Rehberg, “Ein ‘Gegenpapst’ wird kreiert Fakten und Fiktionen in den Zeugenaussagen zur umstrittenen Wahl Urbans VI.,” in Gegenpäpste. Ein unerwünschtes mittelalterliches Phänomen, ed. Harald Müller and Brigitte Hotz (Cologne: Böhlau 2012), 231–59. 47

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28 l the great western schism intervention during the election. He quotes a conversation French cardinal Pierre de Vergne would have had with the bishop of Recanati, who told him “Romans are not as bad as one says” (Romani non sunt ita mali sicut dicitur).53 Rehberg thus largely attempts to separate facts from fiction, demystifying Roman violence to rehabilitate the Romans. He highlights issues of alterity and the instrumentalization of anti-Roman prejudices and collective memory. For the French, Italy was a foreign country, and for the Italians, the papal seat was “occupied by foreigners.”54 In addition, Rehberg argues that Romans’ interests were not sufficiently unified to have successfully manipulated the result of the election. The Populares high middle class, traders, and agricultural entrepreneurs (bovattieri) held reciprocal rapports with cardinals and the court, as their neighbors, trading partners, suppliers, employees, landlords, and tenants. These were, for both sides, rapports of clientele between influential acquaintances that could be used for many purposes. But it was not the same for Romans of the lower classes, who were vilified by the “foreigners.” To the French, Roman people appeared to be dangerous, armed, bloodthirsty, indominable, and irrational troublemakers who roamed the city freely. They were inadequate Christians who neither confessed nor received communion, and they lacked respect for the sacred (and authority). They even attacked pilgrims visiting their city – hence their violent behavior during the conclave. Further evidence of their evil was found in previous actions. They had participated in the humiliation of Pope Boniface VIII at Anagni (1303) and the election of an antipope by Lewis of Bavaria in 1328. The Roman clergy, and certain canons such as S. Giovanni in Laterano’s, claimed an ancestral right to voice their choice of a pope.55 Rehberg suggests in conclusion that Romans cannot be totally rehabilitated but they cannot be totally blamed either. Indeed, they were not that bad, but simply instrumentalized. Yet historiography can be manipulative. When Rehberg quotes the Bishop of Recanati, Bartolomeo de Zabriciis’s Roman defense, he suppresses the end of the discussion.56 What the bishop states fully is as follows, loosely translated: “Indeed my lord, Romans are not as bad as they say. Of course, if you elect a barbarian, they won’t say anything. Yesterday they were so drunk that they had no idea what they were saying. Each thought that he could ‘bellow himself’ a pope.”57 This statement was as critical of the Romans as could be, but for our purpose, it also defends Romans’ agency in the electoral process. Rome in 1378 suffered from a political febrility exacerbated by what we could label the infiltration of “international” politics – the open animosity between the French papacy and

53 54 55

56

57

Rehberg, “Ein ‘Gegenpapst,’” 256. Rehberg, “Ein ‘Gegenpapst,’” 244. This is an old topos that I addressed in Rollo-Koster, Raiding Saint Peter: Empty Sees, Violence, and the Initiation of the Great Western Schism (1378). (Leiden: Brill, 2008), 25–28. In his testimony, Zabriciis actually offers the sole evidence we have of electoral pillaging in Avignon. Discussing the sacking of Cardinal Francesco Tebaldeschi’s house he states, “as it was customary and as I saw [witnessed] in Avignon when the Lord of Beaufort [Gregory XI] had been made pope, back then, they [the crowd] had pillaged the house [of the elected] as was customary with all of his predecessors.” Rollo-Koster, Raiding Saint Peter, 2. The full quote is as follows: “Cui respondit: Domine mi, romani non sunt ita mali sicut dicitur. Certe, si vos elegissetis unum barbarum, nil dixissent. Viri tamen ii, qui heri erant ebrii, nesciebant quid dicerent, et quilibet credebat habere dominum suum in papam propter clamorem suum.” Baronio, Annales 26: 293.

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Breach k 29 Florence, enmeshed in their War of the Eight Saints.58 Florence influenced the Commune’s action during the conclave and helped sustain jingoism between Italian and French speakers.59 Florence, still at war with the papacy in April 1378 (the peace treaty was signed in July 1378), repeatedly asked Romans to free themselves from the “tyranny of the French,” that is, the French popes.60 As we will see in Chapter 4, the language of tyranny spread widely at the time to eventually become another tool against the Italian pope. In a departure from the historiography at large, Marc Dykmans and Daniel Williman focus on the manipulations of a single individual, Pierre de Cros, Gregory XI’s camerlengo. Dykmans accuses de Cros of withholding information when he did not make public a bull Gregory XI drafted before his death. The bull intended to facilitate a speedy and harmonious election – the dying pope knew that the first Roman papal election in nearly a century would not be a simple affair.61 Daniel Williman adds a bureaucratic rivalry between administrators, making the crisis internal to the curia. According to Williman, Pierre de Cros, head of the Apostolic Chamber, “counter maneuvered” the election of Clement VII against Urban VI, because Urban as the former head of the Chancery represented direct competition to the Chamber.62 This bureaucratic rivalry was additionally fueled by Urban’s own resentment. Bartolomeo Prignano held a grudge against Limousins who had played a key role in supporting him in Avignon, while letting him clearly know that they were doing so, belittling him at any available occasion. This could explain why the nickname Clementists gave Urban, archiepiscopellus (the little archbishop/archbishopkin) particularly stung him. Finally, Jean Favier denounces Jean de la Grange, the cardinal of Amiens, for “stoking the fire” that led to the break.63 Absent from Rome during the election because he was in charge of negotiating the peace treaty with Florence, the cardinal returned to Rome at the 58

On this war, see Richard C. Trexler, The Spiritual Power: Republican Florence under Interdict (Leiden: Brill, 1974). 59 This relationship between Florence and the Commune is considered by Kaminsky, “The Great Schism;” Richard Trexler, Spiritual Power; and “Rome on the Eve of the Great Schism,” Speculum 42, no. 3 (1967): 489–509. Maire Vigueur, The Forgotten Story; and Alison Williams Lewin, Negotiating Survival: Florence and the Great Schism, 1378–1417 (Madison: Fairleigh Dickinson University Press, 2003). It is of note that contemporaries recognized the presence of “infiltrators.” The anonymous author of Boucicaut’s biography states that, “the Roman mob was infected by malign influences.” See Craig Taylor and Jane H. M. Taylor, The Chivalric Biography of Boucicaut, Jean II Le Meingre (Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 2016), 149. 60 “Deus benignus . . . erexit oppressos contra fedissam tyrannidem Gallicorum . . .. Ob quid, fratres karissimi, cum omnes ad libertatem naturaliter incendantur, vos solum ex debito hereditario quodam jure obligamini ad studia libertatis.” Coluccio Salutati cited by Trexler, “Rome on the Eve of the Great Schism,” 490. Georges Holmes, “Florence and the Great Schism,” Proceedings of the British Academy 75 (1989): 291–312, uses Florentine evidence that could be called extremely anticurial. He cites the diary of Gino di Neri Capponi who states about the Schism, “Do not meddle with priests, who are the scum of the earth,” and continues with a discussion on the utility of the papacy to Florence’s politics (291). 61 Marc Dykmans, “La bulle de Grégoire XI à la veille du grand schisme,” Mélanges de l’École française de Rome, moyen-âge, temps modernes 89 (1977): 485–95. 62 Marc Dykmans, “La troisième élection du pape Urbain VI,” Archivum historiae pontificiae 15 (1977): 217–64; Daniel Williman, “Schism within the Curia: The Twin Papal Elections of 1378,” The Journal of Ecclesiastical History 59 (2008): 29–47. 63 Favier, Les papes d’Avignon, 557.

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30 l the great western schism end of April. The main intermediary between the papacy and French court, he heard upon his return French cardinals’ regrets at electing Urban and acted on it, knowing that he had the backing of the king of France. Favier leaves it at that.64 A last suspect, rarely addressed in full in the historiography is the count of Fondi, Onorato Caetani. While a thorough study lies outside the scope of this survey, Urban VI’s betrayal of promises made to the count, like his refusal to reimburse expenses incurred by his predecessor and the withdrawal of his rectorship of the Campagna and Marittima provinces, certainly influenced Caetani’s essential support of the renegade cardinals. Feeling abandoned by the pope in favor of his own protégés, Onorato Caetani jumped ship as soon as cardinals started to buck at the pope’s vituperations. He offered them his county and a center for their resistance, as well as the location and safety of their conclave that elected Robert of Geneva. In sum, Caetani played a central role and performed it grandiosely when on September 20, 1378, he crowned the pope. There was no higher performance of authority for the count than crowning the new pope in his own city after a conclave that he protected. He “made” Clement VII.65 Using a cultural approach, I have argued, like most, that the cardinals were the culprits. But instead of emphasizing their financial and political incentives for breaking away with the pope, I suggest that traditional electoral pillaging offered cardinals a convenient escape clause.66 Cardinals weaponized traditional disorder during a papal election and made it the linchpin of their claim of electoral illegitimacy, regardless of the fact that Romans largely followed rules scripted by medieval ceremonials. Cardinals argued that Roman violence caused them fear, which added undue pressure on their decisions and invalidated their April 1378 election. A crowd that railed, “we want a Roman pope or at least an Italian, if not we’ll cut you to pieces,” prevented their choice from being made in a serene condition. Their claim that the election was performed in self-defense and under extreme pressure rationalized their abandonment of a pope who disappointed them. As one witness testified, “we doubt about things we have not chosen with free will.”67 Cardinals appealed to the classical principle that “fear can afflict even a steadfast man” found in the Corpus Iuris Civilis, Dig. 4.2.1: “[Ulpianus] Ait praetor: ‘Quod metus causa gestum erit, ratum non habebo,’” which allowed fear as a ground for invalidating official acts even if and when performed publicly.68 64

Favier, Les papes d’Avignon, 558. AAV, Oblationes 43, fol. 52r: “Anno quo supra (1378) et die ultima mensis Octubris, in civitate Fundorum dictus dominus Robertus de Gebennis papa VII fuit coronatus . . . Eodem die fuit ordinatum per dictum dominum nostrum papa Clementem VII, quod comes Fundorum habeat istud privilegium quod, quandocumque papa creaverit, in coronatione sua primo ponat coronam suam vocatam Tiara supra caput suum,” as transcribed by Caciorgna, “La contea di Fondi nel XIV secolo,” 76. 66 For the most recent, see Joëlle Rollo-Koster, “Episcopal and Papal Vacancies: A Long History of Violence,” in Ecclesia & Violentia: Violence against the Church and Violence within the Church in the Middle Ages, ed. Radosław Kotecki and Jacek Maciejewski (Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars, 2014), 54–71. 67 “Dubitamus quae non habeamus liberi arbitrum eligendi.” Deposition of Nicholas Clementis, litterarum apostolicarum scriptor, AAV, Arm. LIV, T. XVI, fol. 40v. 68 On the origin of the clause, see Emanuela Calore, “Considerazioni sulla clausola edittale ‘Quod metus causa gestum erit, ratum non habebo,’” Diritto@Storia: Rivista internationale di Scienze guiridiche e tradizione romana 9 (2010) available at: http://hdl.handle.net/2108/29198 (accessed on February 16, 2021). 65

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Breach k 31 Using anthropological tools, I argued in Raiding Saint Peter that Roman electoral violence was constitutive for the actors who practiced it. It allowed groups rarely involved in political decisions to voice their aspirations. Still, reviewing the historiography of electoral violence since the publication of Raiding Saint Peter, I noted something that had escaped me at the time, that most goods taken were returned.69 Within the context of the papal election, I then argued, that these returns demonstrate the ephemeral and precarious nature of the newly elected authority. The taking was a show of force that pointed to the superior advantage and control of the taker. Taking/returning, in a reverse model, demonstrated that what had been granted – the position of pope (or king or bishop) – could also be taken away. Like human life, power was fluid; like the objects plundered, it easily shifted back and forth between grantor and beneficiary. It is possible, then, to suggest that acts of looting and giving back instituted empowerment – taking and returning were the constitutive actions – in a society that left little room for vertical negotiations.70

Within the context of a study of social drama and political performance, returning to the well-documented election of 1378 allows us to frame how banderesi communicated their political aspirations. Social drama generated performance: performing authority during the 1378 conclave, communal officers redrew the political lines that marked their relationship with the recently returned “foreign” papacy. They negotiated directly with the court, letting go of the traditional groveling expected of uneven hierarchical rapports and expected by the French. The banderesi set themselves as primary, equal interlocutors. The most obvious evidence rests in their unfurling of the Commune’s banner – a deployment that granted them legal personhood.71 Still, it needs to be emphasized again that sharing governance between Commune and papacy was recognized in regulations of the vacant see.72 Most information regarding the events of April 1378 are found in the Vatican Archives’ Armarium LIV, the so-called Libri de Schismate (books of the Schism) that gather in several volumes the depositions taken down for the kings of Aragon and Castile (vols. 14–39, for the Chancery’s copies of Aragon, and vols. 40–48 for copies of Castile).73 The Libri de 69 70

71

72 73

Rollo-Koster, “Episcopal and Papal Vacancies,” 67–70. Rollo–Koster, “Episcopal and Papal Vacancies,” 69–70. It should be noted that returning stolen artifacts seems to have been easily doable. One of the Schism’s testimonies suggests that everything which had been stolen in the newly elected lodging (vases, gold and silver jewelry, home goods, a mule, and several horses) was readily available to be returned. See Michael Seidlmayer, Die Anfänge des grossen abendländischen Schismas: Studien zur Kirchenpolitik insbesondere der spanischen Staaten und zu den geistigen Kämpfen der Zeit (Münster-Westfalen: Aschendorff, 1940), 312. See the deposition of Nicolas Clementis, who mentions the unfurling of their vexillis, at AAV, Arm. LIV, T. XVI, fol. 40. See Rollo-Koster, Raiding Saint Peter, 199. Francis X. Blouin Jr., Vatican Archives: An Inventory and Guide to Historical Documents of the Holy See (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998), 338–39. The volumes are inventoried by Michael Seidlmayer, “Die spanischen ‘Libri de Schismate’ des Vatikanischen Archivs,” Spanische Forschungen der Görresgesellschaft: Gesammelte Aufsätze zur Kulturgeschichte Spaniens, 1st series, 8 (1940): 199–262; and partially edited in his Die Anfänge des grossen abendländischen Schismas:Studien zur Kirchenpolitik insbesondere der spanischen Staaten und zu den geistigen Kämpfen der Zeit (Münster-Westfalen: Aschendorff, 1940). In addition, they are also partially edited by Louis

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32 l the great western schism Schismate narrate depositions taken from clergymen and laymen, present or not in the city at the time of Urban’s election. Returning to these depositions reveals how Roman actors and their audience perceived the events. The idea is not to revisit the fruitless debate of legitimacy but to analyze how Roman communal authorities seized the occasion to perform authority. Rather than focusing on the issue of fear, which has monopolized the historiography, this short investigation aims at demonstrating that Roman officials literally positioned themselves as equal to the French curia. A fact that contemporaries did not miss.74 Without having the intention of double-checking all material that has been previously edited, I returned to the Vatican archives to verify some of Louis Gayet and Michael Seidlemayer’s transcriptions, and to review the ones left un-transcribed, focusing on testimonies that were labeled “anonymous.” The working assumption was that a covert deposition may hold different truths than named, identified ones. In general, we can note many similarities, and the exercise was almost futile. These folios do not seem to contain shattering new material. Most depositions, transcribed or not, hold the same “truths” and emphasize Romans’ requests for a Roman or at least Italian pope, conclavists’ and cardinals’ fear of an over excited crowd, breaking into the conclave once the election was concluded, and the pillaging of goods.75 Some fresh material was gleaned here and there. Many depositions add that meetings and discussions between clergy and Roman officials belonged to customary traditions, indicating that witnesses knew there were rules, but this does not mean that Romans at large were aware of them.76 Several testimonies draw attention to the fact that Roman officials attempted to enter the conclave after its gate was shut. Interestingly enough, they seem to emphasize the officials’ apparent ignorance of the privacy and containment rules. Someone explains that after the closing of the gates of the conclave, ut moris est, no one could enter, but when the heads of the Roman regions asked to get in, they were told that “it was not permissible to enter once the major gate had been closed.”77 The door was closed with difficulty because the crowd was pressing on it, but the guard was able to block it with wooden beams.78 Returning to “named” depositions, we find Pontius de Curte, a papal scribe, speaking in the first person, describing in a passage left un-transcribed by both Gayet and Seidlmayer,

74

75 76

77 78

Gayet, Le grand schisme d’occident d’après les documents contemporains déposés aux Archives secrètes du Vatican (Florence: Loescher et Seeber, 1889), 2 vols. Recently, Andreas Rehberg, “Le inchieste dei re d’Aragona e di Castiglia sulla validità dell’elezione di Urbano VI nei primi anni del Grande Scisma – alcune piste di ricerca,” in L’età dei processi: Inchieste e condanne tra politica e ideologia nel ‘300. Atti del convegno di studio svoltosi in occasione della XIX edizione del premio internazionale Ascoli Piceno, Ascoli Piceno, Palazzo dei Capitani, 30 novembre–1 dicembre 2007, ed. Antonio Rigon and Francesco Veronese (Rome: Istituto storico italiano per il medio evo, 2009), 249–304, has addressed the lacunae left by these editions. I discuss this 1378 election at length in Raiding Saint Peter, 167–223. For a physical description of the election at the Vatican Palace, see Marc Dykmans, “La troisième élection du pape Urbain VI,” Archivium historiae pontificiae 15 (1977): 217–64. AAV, De Schismate, Arm. LIV, T. XIV, fol. 100–102, 151–63, 163v.–64. For example, “Dominis Gregorius pp. XI die XXVII obisset officiales Urbis diversa consilia tennerunt aliqua secreta aliqua non secreta prout . . . eos moris est in expeditione magnorum negociarium.” AAV, De Schismate, Arm. LIV, T. XV, fol. 74. Similar language is found in fol. 124–27. AAV, De Schismate, Arm. LIV, T. XV, fol. 76v.; T. XVI, fol. 8–9; 51. AAV, De Schismate, Arm. LIV, T. XV, fol. 125.

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Breach k 33 the breaking into the Vatican and the destruction of its windows, doors, and utensils. Cardinals could not sleep amid the racket, nor could they hear mass the following morning. Pontius then adds what he saw and heard after the conclave – the depredations that took place at the house of the cardinal of Brittany. The crowd took wool and linen cloth and wooden beams. The house was totally sacked, treated as “if did not belong to Christians, but to Jews or Saracens.”79 This candid remark highlights the perceived violence of the event and what was understood of interfaith rapports. Another witness told Romans that “the election of the Roman pontiff was not of the human realm,” indicating that they therefore should back off.80 Although slanted toward his own interest, this testimony by Gregory’s camerlengo, Pierre de Cros, demonstrates that the banderesi indeed seized the moment to communicate their authority. They gave themselves license to be the direct interlocutors of the cardinals and camerlengo; they discussed with papabili themselves. They controlled the security of the conclave and all movements of the court. Some of this behavior may have been regulated by the rules of the conclave, but after decades of absence, Romans fully embraced a role that was supposedly limited.81 Pierre de Cros had to make the Banderesi’s involvement overbearing because it grounded his and the cardinals’ defense that the election was vitiated because of Roman violence, consequently accusing communal authorities of inaction at stopping it. He laid out his testimony in twenty-one articles.82 Pierre de Cros states first that Prignano interjected himself into discussions held with the Romans. While this point accuses Prignano of interference, it also empowers Romans who had direct access to him. Second, Roman officials promised the safety of the conclave, another form of communal control, but this one imbedded in the rules of the conclave. Third, Prignano and the abbot of Montecassino “enflamed” the Roman crowd during the conclave with “Romano lo volemo o italiano.” Still according to him, a certain Nardo (spicer), one of the banderesi, was closely enmeshed with Prignano. Here we see the close association between the Commune and the future elected, which was detrimental to the pope but empowering for the Romans, giving them some agency in the electoral process. Further, Article Four describes a conspiracy to seize the camerlengo after mass to compel him, under the threat of decapitation, to surrender Castel Sant’Angelo, which held a good part of the treasury. This of course would have greatly advantaged the commune’s coffers and cut short cardinals’ efforts at fighting back. Fifth, on Gregory’s death, Romans held the city’s gates and bridges, which were usually in papal hands. This surveyance is scripted in the conclave rules, but it also allowed the Commune to eye the cardinals’ movements. Sixth, Roman authorities proclaimed (at the sound of trumpets) that all Roman nobles would be expelled from the city to allow the people free access to the conclave. Thus, communal authorities removed forces that could have supported the cardinals. Seventh, the Roman crowd, reinforced with “rustics” from the countryside, surrounded the conclave and vociferated day and night to such a level that those inside could not hear themselves speak. Here were the so-called violent “pressures,” which could also be interpreted from the Romans’ point of view that their desires were to be considered. Eighth, the Romans created barriers 79 80 81 82

AAV, De Schismate, Arm. LIV, T. XVI, fol. 66v. AAV, De Schismate, Arm. LIV, T. XV, fol. 85. On the conclave, see Rollo-Koster, Raiding Saint Peter, 19–76; on 1378, see 167–224. Gayet, Le grand schisme, 1: 151–55.

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34 l the great western schism preventing French troops garrisoned at Castel Sant’Angelo from accessing the conclave. Ninth, once Romans broke into the conclave, the cardinals escaped in fear, most finding shelter in their residences; they later moved to Castel Sant’Angelo. Tenth, the day after the election, when Urban ordered cardinals to attend his intronization, many feared returning to the Vatican, etc. The camerlengo goes on in similar fashion for the rest of his points, including a comment on attacks to his personal residence and property close to the Vatican (and drinking his wine). Pierre de Cros leaves no doubts that the Romans were dominating the situation. They pressured the cardinals by accessing them directly, spoke with them, and protected and/or terrorized them. Still, the point remains that Romans performed authority according to traditional models of clientele – close personal rapports and deterrence.83 More examples show the acumen of Roman authorities. A 1386 testimony returns to the death of Francesco Tebladeschi, the cardinal of San Pietro (at the end of August or early September 1378). It narrates the visit that banderenses and other officials, including notaries, made to the moribund in order to interview him on the legitimacy of Urban’s election. The dying cardinal had been unable to utter a single word for some eight days but supposedly did nod his head in acquiescence. This somewhat dubious testimony was then reproduced in fake “public instruments,” including a fake testament that defended the legitimacy of the election.84 The bandaresi also appear as Urban’s personal militia. In one of the depositions, the archbishop of Toledo describes the recently elected Urban ordering his servants to beg the bandarenses to let cardinals ensconced at Castel Sant’Angelo reach him unmolested. They obliged.85 Testimonies also suggest the commanding role held by one of the bandaresi, Leonardus, or Nardo de Leonardo. According to the long deposition of Johannes Lemosini, canon of Bazas in the south of France, Nardo told him during their encounter that he had made deals with Prignano to effectively assure him the election. In return, Urban had promised to make him usher and send him to the court of Queen Joanna of Naples to announce the good news of his election. According to Nardo, the task usually brought to the lucky messenger many rewards in kind and properties. Hearing of his closeness with the pope, Johannes then asked Nardo if before he left, he could make him a “roll” (ego dixi sibi, quod antequam irem, vellem petere aliquas gracias pro filio meo et nepotibus ac parentibus meis et facere unum rotulum).86 Johannes is addressing here the socalled conclave rolls, rotuli conclavis, which conclavists presented to a newly elected pope in the hope that petitions would be granted. These petitions usually concerned benefices and material goods to be distributed to conclave attendants, like the personal goods that the 83

84 85 86

On social hierarchy and rapports in Rome, see Sandro Carocci, Baroni di Roma: Dominazioni signorili e lignaggi aristocratici nel Duecento e nel primo Trecento (Rome: École française de Rome 1993); Sandro Carocci, ed., La mobilità sociale nel medioevo (Rome: École française de Rome, 2010); Sandro Carocci and Isabella Lazzarini, eds., Social Mobility in Medieval Italy (1100–1500) (Rome: Viella, 2018); Lorenzo Tanzini and Sergio Tognetti, La mobilità sociale nel Medioevo italiano 1: Competenze, conoscenze e saperi tra professioni e ruoli sociali (secc. XII–XV) (Rome: Veilla, 2016); Andrea Gamberini, ed., La mobilità sociale nel Medioevo italiano 2: Stato e istituzioni (secoli XIV– XV) (Rome: Viella, 2017); Cristina Carbonetti Vendittelli and Marco Vendittelli, La mobilità sociale nel Medioevo italiano 5: Roma e la Chiesa (secoli XII–XV) (Rome: Viella, 2017). Seidlmayer, Die Anfänge des grossen abendländischen Schismas, 314–15. Seidlmayer, Die Anfänge des grossen abendländischen Schismas, 264–65. Seidlmayer, Die Anfänge des grossen abendländischen Schismas, 311.

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Crisis k 35 newly elected had brought with him into the conclave – if indeed he had formerly been a cardinal. Johannes petitioned for an ecclesiastical position for his son and other graces for his nephews and parents. According to him, Nardo replied that he would ask the pope whatever Johannes wanted and would receive approval. And if his son was of canonical age, he would be made a bishop or even archbishop! The bluster shows off Nardo’s privileged access to the new pope. Unfortunately for him, Nardo did not receive grand gifts from the queen of Naples, and the pope rebuffed his petition. A bitter Nardo could only voice publicly his resentment at the pope’s broken promises.87 It is interesting to note how quickly Nardo adopted modes of transactional communication that framed rapport between the pope, his court, and audiences at large, in any given location. The performance of favors was expected from all sides. But Nardo used his close rapports with the curia to elicit favors for others, in addition to himself. He curried favor with the elected pope, which he doubtless bartered with someone else, cementing in the process new alliances that would form his own specific clientele.88 Here, the implicit assumption is that Johannes, canon of Bazas in the southwest of France (an area that was home of the popes for the last seventy years or so), could be of some utility to a Roman banderese. Granted, we are not in Nardo’s head, but the approach seems highly calculated and not particularly subtle.89 The communal government had grown stronger since the mid-fourteenth century, establishing itself as the chosen interlocutor of the returned curia. We will see in Chapter 6, on Rome, how long this state of affairs lasted.

Crisis: Western Christianity Divided

O

nce the Schism consummated, regimes adhered to either obedience. The Hundred Years War loomed in the background, and the division largely followed political lines. As Robert Swanson states, “If it was anything, the decision of which pope to recognize was a political decision: Europe divided not as a result of legalistic persuasion, but according to a perception of political realities.”90 If France aligned itself with Clement, then England chose Urban. Clement VII gained the support of Charles V and, after 1380, 87

Seidlmayer, Die Anfänge des grossen abendländischen Schismas, 310–11. On rotuli, see Rollo-Koster, Raiding Saint Peter, 226–28. 88 There is an entire issue that I will not address here regarding the rotuli conclavis. They rewarded conclavisti only, and generally have been dated to a later period. Still, they obviously existed in 1378. See Andreas Rehberg, “Sacrum enim opinantur, quicquid inde rapina auferunt: Alcune osservazioni intorno ai ‘saccheggi rituali’ in seguito all’elezione di un nuovo papa,” in Pompa Sacra: Lusso e cultura materiale alla corte papa nel basso medioevo (1420–1527). Atti della giornàta di studi, Roma, Istituto Stocico Germanico, 15 febbraio 2007, ed. Thomas Ertl (Rome: Nella sede dell’istituto, 2010), 201–37; and Rollo-Koster, Raiding Saint Peter, 227. These rotuli should not be confused with various other petitions and supplications addressed to the pope at other times, see Hélène Millet, ed., Suppliques et requêtes: Le gouvernement par la grâce en Occident (XIIe–XVe siècle) (Rome: École française de Rome, 2003). 89 We can also note that banderesi used traditional modes of communication to highlight their authority. For example, see the deposition of Nicholas Clementis, scribe of apostolic letters, who states that their banners flew throughout the city. See AAV, Arm. LIV, T. XVI, fol. 40v. 90 Robert N. Swanson, “Obedience and Disobedients in the Great Schism,” Archivum Historiae Pontificiae 22 (1984): 377–87 (here at 382).

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36 l the great western schism of his successor Charles VI of France, along with his second-born, Louis of Orléans, his brother Louis of Anjou, and his uncles, the dukes of Berry and Burgundy. The history of the French court and Schism is tightly knit, something that Noël Valois in his history of France and the Great Western Schism discusses in detail. Along with most of Gregory XI’s administration, the kings of Castile, Aragon, and Navarre added themselves to the Clementist obedience, once the results of their inquest (that leaned heavily toward Clement VII) were approved. Urban was left restaffing his entire government and recreating his papal administration, a mission that he tackled empirically. He did have the support of Portugal, the Holy Roman Empire, Rome, the Italian city-states, England, and its territories in France. Internal European politics also dictated allegiances. Because England backed Urban, Scotland chose Clement. The Holy Roman Emperor, Charles IV, and the king of Hungary chose Urban, leading the dukes of Luxembourg, Lorraine, and Austria to support Clement. This division of Europe leads to what Victor Turner defines as “crisis, when people take sides, or rather, are in the process of being induced, seduced, cajoled, nudged, or threatened to take side by those who confront one another . . . As Durkheim and René Girard have argued and my observations confirms: crisis is contagious.”91 This phase can include moments of irrational behavior and violence, liminal characteristics, and challenges. It is not the point here of redoing the institutional, political, and diplomatic history of the Schism – it has attracted the majority of the historiography’s attention – but to fit it within this context of crisis. Grounded in a series of rich archives at the Vatican, historians have teased out much of what needs to be known about the administrative division of the church during the Schism. Jean Favier published a monumental study in 1966 of the papal finances during the Great Western Schism (1378–1409).92 It is needless to point out that finances were at the core of survival for both obediences, directing most papal political activities. Favier assesses the financial structures of the papacy but also the men who ran the institution. The financial assets of the Clementist obedience rested on its well-run collector system for levying taxes. Here, Urban VI had to start anew; a single collector sided with him after 1378. As officials continued to collect and pay assignations for Clement VII, Urban had to keep improvising, often changing his staff and the size of his collectorates. The system largely failed Urban, for the collections issued from the Papal States were raised by pontifical vicars who could often prove unreliable. Rivals were intent on financially sapping their opponents, going as far as allowing theft if it increased their incomes. Put in the same predicament, both popes minimized the ever-dangerous movement of funds and relied on local assignations by spending funds exactly where they received them. In Avignon, Clement’s camerlengos controlled assignations. After deducting their personal

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Turner, The Anthropology of Performance, 34. Jean Favier, Les finances pontificales à l’époque du Grand Schisme (1378–1409) (Paris: De Boccard, 1966). In 2006, after a brilliant career as keeper of the Archives Nationales in Paris (1975–1994) and the presidency of the Bibliothèque nationale de France, Favier returned to the Avignon papacy with the publication of a new synthesis, Les papes d’Avignon (Paris: Fayard, 2006), see specially 549–730, which covers the Schism. I introduce the sources and the historiography in Joëlle Rollo-Koster, Avignon and Its Papacy (1309–1417): Popes, Institutions, and Society (Lanham: Rowman and Littlefield, 2015), 1–22, 239–86.

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Crisis k 37 expenses, collectors sent their surplus to Avignon’s treasury. Urban and his Apostolic Chamber, on the contrary, held little control over their revenues and expenses. They replaced the traditional system of assignation with rectors and temporal vicars who were given direct financial control over their posted locations. Often abusive, their monetary exactions in the Papal States led to numerous popular revolts.93 On a day-to-day basis, Urbanists borrowed from bankers to survive. Banking grew in importance on both sides; merchant-bankers ran the transport of funds and supported both popes financially. The Avignon popes employed several small firms that received letters of change in their various European agencies and in the capital city. In general, the Avignon papacy used its resources well, free from bankers’ pressure. In contrast, the Roman papacy handed its financial control over to bankers, who lent the credits that supported its policies. This reliance on external funding led the Roman popes to choose expedients and unsavory means to replenish their treasury. They called two jubilees within ten years, in 1390 and 1400, to fill their coffers.94 Philippe Genequand showcases Clement VII’s administrative policies in the early years of the Schism.95 Genequand identifies influential members of Clement’s central administration, analyzes his curial administration, and highlights Clement’s political sagacity and diplomacy through his reading of papal letters and supplications (petition requests). The author suggests that a new political history of the Schism can emerge from the prosopography of his staff. Using the pope’s beneficial political strategy (choosing to whom the pope allotted [or collated] major and minor benefices) and papal correspondence, the author can map the ebb and flow of the pope’s European obedience. Genequand follows the pope’s engagement with European religious and secular leaders practically on a day-to-day basis. Genequand concludes that the management of minor benefices was of utmost importance to the pope because it spread his legitimacy and buttressed his networks. Clement relied on his brother, the count of Geneva, but even more so on his “surrogate” family, the College of Cardinals.96 He surrounded himself with people from his homeland (I would add, like most Avignon popes), and favored relations with people who spoke French – France and its kings, Charles V and VI. We can recognize here the jingoism that affected the 1378 election. Clement eventually supported the Iberian Peninsula when it chose his 93

It would be interesting to systematically track incidences of popular protest and the history of the Schism, for now, see Samuel Kline Cohn, Popular Protest in Late Medieval Europe: Italy, France, and Flanders (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2004); and Lust for Liberty: The Politics of Social Revolt in Medieval Europe, 1200–1425: Italy, France, and Flanders (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2008). 94 These jubilees will be discussed in the chapter on Rome (Chapter 6). Regarding finances, in addition to Favier, see, for example, Kurt Weissen, “Machtkämpfe und Geschäftsbeziehungen in Florenz im 15. Jahrhundert: Wie Cosimo de’ Medici seine Bank im Kampf gegen seine inneren Gegner einsetzte,” in Praktiken des Handels: Geschäfte und soziale Beziehungen europäischer Kaufleute in Mittelalter und früher Neuzeit, ed. Mark Häberlein and Christoph Jeggle (Constance: UVK, 2010), 175–89. 95 Philippe Genequand, Une politique pontificale en temps de crise: Clément VII d’Avignon et les premières années du grand Schisme d’Occident (1378–1394) (Basel: Schwabe Verlag, 2013). 96 A letter from one of Datini’s agents in Avignon, dated March 25, 1392, notes the death of Clement’s brother and that the pope was deeply affected because his death meant the end of the line for the counts of Geneva. See Robert Brun, “Annales avignonnaises de 1382 à 1410 extraites des archives Datini,” Mémoires de l’institut historique de Provence 12 (1935), 135.

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38 l the great western schism obedience. Genequand wonders why Clementist kings did not follow his lead in solving the schism by force and surmises that they were too busy centralizing their own power and territories. Philippe Genequand is also able to tease out Clement’s character from his correspondence. The pope was determined, willing to alienate important territories to reach his end. He was prudent, realistic, and without scruple. He did not like losing and neglected individuals not driven by his cause. He lacked imagination, was more administrator than visionary, and more follower than leader. He refused to build on efforts produced by the University of Paris to solve the crisis, thus delaying its resolution. All in all, the pope was an administrator before spiritual leader, and his determination went nowhere. The details of the diplomatic and political enterprises involved in convincing adherents to either obedience are staggering, and outside the scope of this volume. They are in fact so overwhelmingly numerous that a synthesis has scared most historians. Noël Valois is the only author willing to offer an all-encompassing history from the point of view of one country solely, France. It takes him four massive volumes to reach his goal, with the first volume dedicated to the task of delimiting how both obediences materialized. On the other hand, Philip Daileader offers the only synthesis, to my knowledge; and it is available in a few pages.97 Providing a review of the historiography, he states, “There have been many regional studies of the Schism since Valois published his work. None has been as influential, but together they comprise a substantial body of scholarship.”98 His footnotes list most of the recent scholarship; I will refer interested readers to it. In general, efforts at eliciting support or deterrence were extremely fluid, ranging from war to cajoling, and easily moved between both. Both popes used their cardinals’ nominations to underpin their efforts. For example, Clement VII elevated allies of Queen Joanna of Naples to compel her to stay on his side. He promoted the archbishops of Otranto, Jacopo da Itro, and Cosenza, Niccolò Brancacci. Ironically, Brancacci was a relative of Urban VI, and like him, a former bishop of Bari – he was his predecessor to the post and had also been promoted to head the chancery. Both men followed the same path. Clement sent the Spaniard Pedro de Luna to Spain to convince the kings of Aragon and Castile; he remained there until 1390. Castile folded to the Clementist obedience in 1380, Aragon in 1387 – at the death of Pedro the Ceremonious, and Navarre in 1390.99 Clement sent Jean de Cros to Charles V of France, and Guy de Malasset to England – which he failed to rally. Traveling to England via Flanders, Guy de Malasset could not outplay his nemesis in Flanders: Urban VI’s legate Pileo da Prato took the territory for his master. But in 1387, Pileo da Prato switched allegiance to Clement, only to return to the Urbanist Boniface IX in 1391.100 See Valois, La France, 4 vols.; and Philip Daileader, “Local Experiences of the Great Western Schism,” in A Companion to the Great Western Schism (1378–1417), ed. Joëlle Rollo-Koster and Thomas Izbicki (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 89–121. One can add the chapters dedicated to the Schism in Favier, Les papes d’Avignon, 549–730; and Howard Kaminsky, “The Great Schism,” in The New Cambridge Medieval History, ed. Michael Jones (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 6: 674–96, whose bibliography is quite extensive. However, these do not focus strictly on adhesion to either obedience. 98 Daileader, “Local Experiences of the Great Western Schism,” 93. 99 Kaminsky, “The Great Schism,” 678. 100 Favier, Les papes d’Avignon, 567–68. 97

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Crisis k 39 Philip Daileader has addressed the race for allegiances, and how each obedience coalesced around its pope. For England and Castile, he highlights the difficulties facing the historiography when the “interplay between a pan-European problem and local particularities” muddled the scene. Studies on Cyprus, for example, show that the Schism played into the hands of monarchs rising over popes, with a tendency toward ecclesiastical decentralization. Bishops, for example, were named by cathedral chapters – not by popes.101 England sided with Urban without hesitation. Edouard Perroy’s work remains the classic study of the British response to the Schism. As we will see in a later chapter on tyranny (Chapter 4), Richard II’s inclination toward a French proposal of a subtraction of obedience may have precipitated his deposition. It is notable that even non-insular British territories like Calais, Brittany, and Gascony remained Urbanist, regardless of Clementist efforts. The change of obedience entailed a remapping of the ecclesiastical geography, but Perroy argues that continuity prevailed in England, with no jarring fracture of obedience.102 Initially, Castile hesitated, receiving several embassies from the big players: Clement, Urban, and France. Castile’s neutrality became a boon for historians since its inquest into the 1378 election – found in the Libri de Schismate discussed above – made the papal election one of the most well-documented of the medieval period. Early into the Schism, focus was honed onto the legitimacy of Urban’s election, and scores of eyewitnesses surfaced to discuss the pros and cons. Polemics abounded.103 Historians’ necessity aside, Castile’s neutrality also worked to its advantage and allowed its king to control ecclesiastical offices and revenues.104 Reviewing the Holy Roman Empire, the late Stefan Weiß addressed the issue of what historians call medieval “foreign policy,” a misnomer, since it presumes sovereign states, and their monopoly of force, something that no medieval lordship could muster.105 Instead, sovereigns relied on diplomacy. The specific situation of the Holy Roman Empire, which was composed of three kingdoms – Germany, Northern Italy, and Burgundy – complicated Daileader, “Local Experiences of the Great Western Schism,” 98–100; and Wipertus Rudt de Collenberg, “Le Royaume et l’église de Chypre face au grand schisme (1378–1417) d’après les registres des archives du Vatican,” Mélanges de l’École française de Rome, moyen âge–temps modernes 94, no. 2 (1982): 621–701. 102 Edouard Perroy, L’Angleterre et le grand schisme d’Occident: Étude sur la politique religieuse de l’Angleterre sous Richard II (Paris: Monnier, 1933). See also Margaret Harvey, Solutions to the Schism: A Study of Some English Attitudes, 1378–1409 (St. Ottilien: EOS Verlag, 1983); and “The Case for Urban VI in England to 1390,” in Genèse et débuts du grand schisme d’Occident, ed. Jean Favier (Paris: Éditions du CNRS, 1980), 541–60. See also John J. N. Palmer, “England and the Great Western Schism, 1388–1399,” English Historical Review 83 (1968): 516–22; and the most recent Anglo-Gascon Aquitaine: Problems and Perspectives, ed. Guilhem Pépin (Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 2017), that covers the chronology of the Schism. 103 See the major texts in Franz Plazidus Bliemetzrieder, Literarische Polemik Zu Beginn des Grossen Abendlänischen Schismas (Kardinal Petrus Flandrin, Kardinal Petrus Amelii, Konrad Von Gelnhausen). Ungedruckt Texte Und Untersuchungen (Vienna: F. Tempsky, 1910). 104 Luis Suárez Fernández, Castilla, el Cisma y la crisis conciliar (1378–1440) (Madrid: Escuela de Estudios Medievales, 1960). 105 Stefan Weiß, “Onkel und Neffe: Die Beziehungen zwischen Deutschland und Frankreich unter Kaiser Karl IV. und König Karl V. und der Ausbruch des Großen Abendländischen Schismas. Eine Studie über mittelalterliche Außenpolitik,” in Regnum et Imperium Die französisch-deutschen Beziehungen im 14. und 15. Jahrhundert/Les relations franco-allemandes au XIVe et au XVe siècle, ed. Stefan Weiß (Munich: R. Oldenbourg Verlag, 2008), 101–64. 101

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40 l the great western schism affairs during the Schism. Weiß raises the question, “Should the Italian policy of the German kings and emperors be labeled domestic or foreign?”106 But Weiß eschews responding to his own question by focusing on what he calls medieval domestic (familial) politics (Innenpolitik). Dynastic relations directed political standing. The houses of Luxembourg and Valois navigated the entire web of relations between Empire, France, Savoy, Naples, and Hungary through their “domestic” policies. In the early years of the Schism, the Holy Roman Emperor Charles IV (son of the blind hero of Crecy, John of Bohemia/Luxembourg) adhered to the Urbanist obedience. Yet his half-brother Wenceslaus, duke of Luxembourg, was Clementist, as was his father-in-law, Albert of Bavaria, because of their kinship with the French ruling aristocracy.107 Lorraine, held by its Duke Jean, a client of France, but also partially by Leopold III of Austria (house of Habsburg), also remained Clementist, as did Alsace.108 As Stefan Weiß astutely remarks, the Schism also passed through the emperor’s family.109 These alliances created volatile webs difficult to track. At the death of Charles IV, his son Wenceslaus (Wenzel) continued his pro-Urbanist stance.110 In a meticulous study, based on the granting of petitions (rotuli) between Weiß, “Onkel und Neffe,” 105. Valois, La France, 1: 279–81, who explains Albert’s and Wenceslaus’s kinship ties with Charles V of France. For a recent study of Charles IV (his uncle was Charles IV of France) Václav (Wenceslaus), took the name of Charles to show his French heritage. He resided at length and was educated in France. See Kaiser Karl IV., 1316–2016: Erste Bayerisch-Tschechische Landesausstellung, Ausstellungskatalog (Prague: Narodni Galerie v Praze, 2016); Die Autobiographie Karls IV. = Vita Caroli Quarti / Einführung, Übersetzung und Kommentar von Eugen Hillenbrand, ed. Wolfgang F. Stammler (Essen: Alcorde Verlag, 2016); and Ferdinand Seibt, Karl IV.: Ein Kaiser in Europa 1346–1378 (Frankfurt am Main: Fischer-Taschenbuch-Verlag, 2003). Charles was king of Bohemia and Holy Roman emperor. 108 Philippe Genequand, “Entre ‘Regnum’ et ‘Imperium.’ Les attitudes des pays d’Empire de langue française au debut du grand schisme d’Occident (1378–1380),” in Regnum et Imperium Die französisch-deutschen Beziehungen im 14. und 15. Jahrhundert/Les relations franco-allemandes au XIVe et au XVe siècle, ed. Stefan Weiß (Munich: R. Oldenbourg Verlag, 2008), 182–83. 109 The sentence is quoted by Genequand, “Entre ‘Regnum’ et ‘Imperium,’” 184. 110 See, for example, his edicts and various letters in Baronio, Annales 26: 368–73. Wenceslaus’s historiography is bogged down in prejudice. He was nicknamed “the Idle” and labeled the worst German emperor. He was brother of the more “palatable” and politically successful Sigismund. It is difficult to find readily available material on this king; most is in Czech, and luckily (for some of us) a few in German. The most recent is a conference in Germany, whose editors, I hope, will publish a volume, see “Conference 29 March–1 April 2017, Erfurt: Wenzel IV. (1361–1419). Neue Wege zu einem verschütteten Herrscher/Wenceslas IV (1361–1419). New Approaches to a Superimposed King.” The program is posted at: www.academia.edu/31117770/Conference_29_March_1_April_ 2017_Erfurt_Wenzel_IV_1361_1419_Neue_Wege_zu_einem_versch%C3%BCtteten_Herrscher_ Wenceslas_IV_1361_1419_New_Approaches_to_a_Superimposed_King (accessed on February 19, 2021). See also Christian Oertel, “Wenceslaus alter Nero. Die Darstellung Wenzels IV. in der Historiographie des späten 14. und 15. Jahrhunderts,” Deutsches Archiv für Erforschung des Mittelalters 74 (2018): 673–702; and his post-doc project, “DFG-Projekt ‘Der König als Teil des Netzwerks. Herrschaftspraxis unter Wenzel IV. (1361–1419) in Böhmen und im Reich.’ See also Klara Hübner, Herrscher der Krise-Die Krise des Herrschers: König Wenzel IV. Als Projektionsfläshe Zeitgenössischer Propaganda,” Bulletin der Polnischen Historischen Mission 11 (2016): 294–320, at dx.doi.org/10.12775/BPMH.2016.009 (accessed on February 23, 2021), who offers his historiography. The only readily available work in English remains Pál Engel, The Realm of St. Stephen: A History of Medieval Hungary, 895–1526 (London: Tauris, 2001). It is of note that Die Welt ranked him the worst king of Germany, see www.welt.de/kultur/history/art 106 107

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Crisis k 41 1378–1380 to French-speaking, Holy Roman imperial lands, Philippe Genequand manages to follow the ebb and flow of early obedience.111 His study highlights how, early in the Schism, some choices of obedience may have surprised, but within ten years most folded back into traditional allegiance. Family ties explain the early allegiance to Clement among the counts of Geneva and Savoy, as well as the Dauphiné, appanage of the dauphin, heirapparent to the French crown. Clement’s brother, Count Pierre, for example, became one of the pope’s generals until his death in 1392. Most genevois followed his lead and provided the backbone of Clement’s administration and defense. Savoy followed an identical track.112 Provence, as we will see Chapter 7 on Avignon, hesitated, only showing Clementist support when Louis of Anjou became the adopted heir of Clementist Queen Joanna of Naples. His earlier war on the county could not be forgiven, and Joanna’s death initiated a war (ligue d’Aix) between the Clementist supporters of Anjou and the Urbanist supporters of Charles of Durazzo (who had seized Naples). Burgundy and Flanders followed their Clementist dukes. The dukes navigated between their personal allegiances and their respective populations who saw them as foreign leaders. These alliances needed to be treated gingerly to avoid the “troubles” that “forced” conversions could bring. The political weight of urban entities needed to be taken into consideration. Philip the Bold, duke of Burgundy and younger son of King John II the Good, did not flaunt his French Clementist heritage. Similarly, Duke Albert I of Bavaria, who held Holland, Hainaut, and Zeeland, treaded carefully over powerful Flemish towns whose commercial expansionism matched their desire for political freedom.113 As Genequand notes, all of this was politic, with little left to religion.114 As we will see in Chapter 6, Clement and Urban fought over the chair of St. Peter with the best troops they could muster. Urban’s Company of Saint George, led by the famous condottiere Alberico da Barbiano, eventually defeated Clement’s condottieri, also the best of their generation (led by Jean de Malestroit, Sylvestres Budes, Louis de Montjoie, and Bernardon de la Salle), at Marino on April 29, 1379. Castel Sant’Angelo capitulated to Urban’s forces, and Urban achieved one of his two goals: to prevent his opponent from seizing Rome. His next move was to force Clement out of Italy entirely. For this he needed Naples, which Clement also courted. Queen Joanna, granddaughter of Robert, late king of Naples, and daughter of Marie of Valois, sister of the late King Philip VI of France, ruled Naples.115 She was countess of

111 112

113 114 115

icle1369978/Wenzel-Deutschlands-schlechtester-Koenig.html (accessed on February 19, 2021). Wenceslaus is also accessible via Jan Hus’s historiography, since the king protected him. See, for the latest, František Šmahel and Ota Pavlíček, A Companion to Jan Hus (Leiden: Brill, 2015); Pavel Soukup, Jan Hus: The Life and Death of a Preacher (West Lafayette: Purdue University Press, 2020); and Thomas A. Fudge, Jan Hus: Religious Reform and Social Revolution in Bohemia (London: Tauris, 2010). Genequand, “Entre ‘Regnum’ et ‘Imperium,’” 165–95. See also Bruno Galland, Les papes d’Avignon et la maison de Savoie (1309–1409) (Rome: École française de Rome, 1998); and Eugene L. Cox, The Green Count of Savoy (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1967). Genequand, “Entre ‘Regnum’ et ‘Imperium,’” 177–86. Genequand, “Entre ‘Regnum’ et ‘Imperium,’” 188. For the most recent on Queen Joanna, see Elizabeth Casteen, From She-Wolf to Martyr: The Reign and Disputed Reputation of Johanna I of Naples (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2015); Nancy

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42 l the great western schism Provence and Forcalquier, and titular queen of Jerusalem and Sicily. This meant that anything touching Naples also affected Provence. Joanna was in an uncomfortable position; her kinship with France forced her toward Clement – he had been elected in Fondi on Neapolitan lands, but her territorial inheritance made her the enemy of a pope issued from the “homeland.” She wavered between obediences for months, bowing to popular pressures, and then freeing herself from them.116 Catherine of Siena counts among the individuals who reached out to her in the name of Urban, to no avail.117 On May 11, 1380, Urban “denounced her [Joanna] as schismatic, heretical, and blasphemous, labeled her a conspirator against the Church, and declared her guilty of lèse-majesté, deposing her, in his capacity as Naples’s suzerain, as punishment for her heresy.”118 Urban replaced Joanna with her cousin, Charles of Durazzo – one of the sons of Robert of Anjou’s youngest brother, John of Gravina, duke of Durazzo. In response, Joanna adopted Louis of Anjou (June 29, 1380, with a July 22–23 approval by the pope).119 By then Clement had left his unsustainable position in Italy, retreating to Avignon, which he entered on June 20, 1379. As we will see in Chapter 7, Louis of Anjou’s capture of Naples remained Clement’s preoccupation for the rest of his life. Events continued to unravel at an extraordinary rate. Charles of Durazzo took Naples over the summer of 1381. He captured and imprisoned Joanna, eventually ordering her death by suffocation in May 1382, as Louis was initiating a rescue mission to liberate his “mother.” After her demise, Anjou continued toward Naples. His campaign was difficult; Durazzo employed a brilliant strategy, starving and harassing the French army. The death of Louis in 1384 ended all hope for the French, until Urban’s actions turned the situation around.120 Shortly before Louis of Anjou’s death, Urban VI severed his ties with Charles of Durazzo over Butillo Prignano, Urban’s nephew – and an adventurer. Their argument began with Durazzo’s refusal to hand over his conquests (and some hard cash) to Butillo. Durazzo also questioned Urban’s behavior toward his own cardinals – he had demoted Cardinal Rieti in 1383. During the summer of 1384, the plague stalled the triple contest between Louis of Anjou versus Durazzo, Durazzo versus Urban, and Urban versus Louis of Anjou. Louis died and the crown passed to his oldest son, Louis II (under the regency of his mother Marie de Blois). His troops started their journey home, freeing a convalescent Durazzo to deal with the pope. The argument between Urban and Durazzo climaxed when they declared war against each other. In 1385, six of Urban’s cardinals, along with the bishop of Aquila, sided with Durazzo, suggesting that a council should assist the pope in ruling. Hearing of this “treachery,” Urban

Goldstone, The Lady Queen: The Notorious Reign of Joanna I, Queen of Naples, Jerusalem, and Sicily (New York: Walker, 2009); Engel, The Realm of St Stephen; Dominique Paladilhe, La reine Jeanne: Comtesse de Provence (Paris: Librairie académique Perrin, 1997); Émile-G. Léonard, Histoire de Jeanne I, reine de Naples, comtesse de Provence (1343–1382) (Paris: Picard, 1932), 2 vols.; and Les Angevins de Naples (Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 1954). 116 Casteen, From She-Wolf to Martyr, 196–248, reviews this period thoroughly. 117 See, for example, the transcription of one of her letters in Baronio, Annales 26: 361–62. 118 Casteen, From She-Wolf to Martyr, 203. 119 Genequand, “Entre regnum et imperium,” 175 and AAV, Reg. Aven. 224, fol. 586. 120 The period has been carefully analyzed by Genequand, Une politique pontificale en temps de crise; and Christophe Masson, Des guerres en Italie avant les guerres d’Italie: Les entreprises militaires françaises dans la péninsule à l’époque du grand schisme d’Occident (Rome: École française de Rome, 2014).

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Crisis k 43 called them into consistory, imprisoned and tortured them, ultimately ordering their death; he simultaneously excommunicated Durazzo and his entire court.121 Thomas Walsingham, in his Historia anglicana, discusses what he calls the “discord between the pope and the king of Sicily, and the degradation of six cardinals.”122 According to him, in Rome Charles had seized the pope in his bed, and detained him away from his household for some eight days. They eventually made peace with 100,000 florins promised to the king’s defense of Naples, while the pope dubbed him a crusader against his enemies. A few months later, once Charles left Rome, the pope moved with his court to “Luceria” (Nocera) and broke their pact. There the pope in consistory accused six cardinals of wishing his death, along with thirty articles of heresies. Stunned, the cardinals responded that it was not so, but they were nevertheless seized, incarcerated, and questioned. A week later, Urban preached against them, as well as Rieti, whom he accused of collusion with Charles. The pope degraded and excommunicated them in due form, along with Charles, throwing lit candles to the ground.123 Walsingham demonstrates that contemporaries were aware of the precariousness of the situation. In reply to these events, Durazzo and Alberico da Barbiano besieged the pope in Nocera, offering 10,000 florins to whomever would bring the pope back, dead or alive. In a move symptomatic of the fluidity of events at the time, Neapolitan Clementist troops headed by Ramondello Orsini, the count of Caserta Francesco della Ratta, Charles d’Artois, and Thommaso di San Severino, rescued him – thus Clement learned later that his troops had saved his rival.124 However, they freed him only after he agreed to pay a hefty ransom. Urban then fled to Benevento and Genoa, this time rewarding his Genoese rescuers with the papal town of Corneto. After a year in Genoa, Urban journeyed through Lucca, Perugia, and eventually regained Rome, where he died on October 15, 1389, though not before proclaiming 1390 a Jubilee year.125 For a modern reader, the Schism could have ended in October 1389 when Urban died, leaving Clement sole pope.126 But this underestimates the stubbornness of each camp, neither of which would have accepted such an easy solution. Modern days do understand divisive politics, and as Norman Swanson states: Having declared their support for a claimant, it was virtually impossible (except by revolution) to change that standpoint: to accept someone as supreme pontiff necessarily involved 121

These included the English Adam Easton, Gentile di Sangro, Ludovico Donato, Bartolomeo de Cogorno, Marino Giudice (all signatories of a letter denouncing Urban as unstable), along with Cardinal Giovanni d’Amelia. They were imprisoned at Nocera’s Castle, Umbria, on January 11, 1385, all were later executed in Genoa in December 1385 or January 1386, except for Easton who was saved by Richard II. 122 Thomas Walsingham, Historia anglicana, ed. H. T. Riley (London: Longman, 1864), 2: 121–24. 123 See Harvey, English in Rome, 39–40. 124 Genequand, “Entre regnum et imperium,” 176–77. Giovanni Sercambi offers a cleaned-up version of the events in his chronicle. See Giovanni Sercambi, Le croniche di Giovanni Sercambi Lucchese pubblicate sui manoscritti originali a cura di Salvatore Bongi (Lucca: Tipografia Giusti, 1892), 247–58. 125 The death of Durazzo in February 1386 allowed the Angevins to reclaim the Neapolitan throne, relying this time on the leadership of Otto of Brunswick, the late Queen Joanna’s fourth husband. Otto entered Naples in 1387; the young Louis II of Anjou, proclaimed King of Naples in 1389, took possession of his kingdom a year later. 126 Valois, La France, 2: 157–60.

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44 l the great western schism acceptance of his claims to be the unique possessor of the Petrine inheritance and all that that entailed. Having made a partisan declaration, it was therefore unlikely that it would be overturned with ease.127

Boniface IX was elected a couple of weeks after Urban’s death, on November 2, 1389.128 The speed of the interregnum was proof enough of the Urbanists’ adhesion to their own cause. Clement’s response to Boniface’s election was quick. On November 27, he forbade ecclesiastics from petitioning the new pope under pain of excommunication. Moreover, his followers were not to attend the jubilee that he initiated in December 1389 – an event that was quite successful nonetheless.129 But already by 1389, lassitude compelled many to question ecclesiastic dedication to ending the crisis. Noël Valois argues convincingly for a growing dissatisfaction after the first decade. A main issue was finances and Clement’s liberality toward French monarchy, princes, and towns. In July 1385 and 1390, tithes were entirely granted to the king for his war effort. Clementist clergy paid additional aids and taxes, and benefices were awarded to the highest bidders. The enormous funding necessitated by Clement’s aggressive policy led him to borrow frequently and pawn the papal treasury, including his tiara.130 But Clement continued to defend what he considered his rightful claim to the papacy and was still actively championing his “way of force” when he died on September 16, 1394. According to many – although perhaps a legend – he had by then pawned the papal tiara to the Grand Master of the Knights Hospitaller, Juan Fernandez de Heredia, who graciously returned it for the next pope.131 These deaths galvanized forces of resistance that explored ways to reach union by all means.

Redressive Action: Subtractions and Councils

D

iscussing this third stage of social drama, Victor Turner elaborates:

[3] redressive action ranging from personal advice and informal mediation or arbitration to formal juridical and legal machinery, and, to resolve certain kinds of crisis or legitimate other modes of resolution, to the performance of public ritual. Redress, too, has its liminal features, its being “betwixt and between,” and, as such, furnishes a distanced replication and critique of the events leading up to and composing the “crisis.”132

Redressive action implies finding a solution to the crisis. During the Schism, remedies came in all shapes and forms. One of the simplest was to refrain naming a pope once one died. When the possibility arose in 1389 with the death of Urban VI, minds were still too inflamed to consider this a valid option; it also suggested that one of the obediences was illegitimate. The method was revisited at the death of Clement VII in 1394.

Swanson, “The Way of Action,” 192. See, for examples, Baronio, Annales, 26: 490–91. 129 Valois, La France, 2: 160. 130 Valois, La France, 2: 375–91. 131 Valois, La France, 2: 388. 132 Turner, On the Edge of the Bush, 180. 127

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Redressive Action k 45 By the time of his death, Clement was extremely upset at the vacillating support of the University of Paris. With his characteristic candor, Michel Pintoin, the Religieux de SaintDenys explains that the Université had sent the pope a letter that described its own efforts at healing the break, begging the pope to seriously cooperate along the same line (ad istam dignaretur efficaciter laborare).133 The pope considered the missive defamatory. Attempting to appease his wrath, his cardinals suggested that the pope needed to choose one of the solutions proposed by the university.134 This upset him further, so much so that he died a few days later.135 When the news of Clement’s death reached Paris on September 22 (six days after his death on the 16th, although messengers could make the trip in three days), the king took the advice of his conseil, made up of the dukes of Bourbon, Orléans, Berry, and Burgundy, and drafted a letter to the cardinals in Avignon asking them to wait for the arrival of the king’s embassy before opening the conclave.136 Simon de Cramaud, patriarch of Alexandria, proposed to maintain the interregnum as long as a solution was not agreed upon.137 The missive arrived as the gates of the conclave were closing and remained unread. The cardinals considered opening it a non-canonical interference. On September 28, 1394, the twenty-one cardinals present in Avignon elected Clement VII’s successor, the Aragonese Pedro de Luna. He took the name of Benedict XIII.138 Clement VII had named 133

CRSD, 2: 184. CRSD, 2: 186. 135 CRSD, 2: 186. 136 The letter is transcribed in CRSD, 2: 188–91. It should be noted that since 1392 Charles VI suffered fits of madness that left him unable to rule. From then on, French politics became intertwined with the influence wielded by Charles’s entourage, starting with his uncles the dukes of Berry and Burgundy, his brother, the Duke of Orléans, his wife Isabeau, and his many counselors. 137 On Simon de Cramaud’s efforts at ending the crisis via cession/abdication, which avoided a discussion of either pope’s legitimacy but asked them to stand down, withdrawing obedience if they did not, see, Howard Kaminsky, Simon de Cramaud and the Great Schism (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1983); and Simon de Cramaud: De substraccione obediencie (Cambridge, MA: The Medieval Academy of America, 1984). 138 For the most recent on Pedro de Luna, see Georges Pillement, Pedro de Luna, le dernier pape d’Avignon (Paris: Hachette, 1955); Alec Glasfurd, The Antipope (Peter De Luna, 1342–1423): A Study in Obstinacy (New York: Roy, 1966); Howard Kaminsky, The Politics of France’s Subtraction of Obedience from Pope Benedict XIII, 27 July 1398 (Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society, 1971); Anselmo Gascón de Gotor, Pedro de Luna: El pontífice que no cedió (Madrid: Biblioteca Nueva, 1971); Francis McGurk, Calendar of Papal Letters to Scotland of Benedict XIII of Avignon, 1394–1419 (Edinburgh: Scottish History Society, 1976); Marie-Henriette Jullien De Pommerol and Jacques Monfrin, La bibliothèque pontificale à Avignon et à Peñiscola pendant le Grand Schisme d’Occident et sa dispersion: Inventaire et concordances (Rome: École française de Rome, 1991); Angel Sesma Muñoz, Benedicto XIII, el Papa Luna: Muestra de documentación histórica aragonesa en conmemoración del sexto centenario de la elección papal de Don Pedro Martínez de Luna (Aviñón, 28 septiembre 1394): Sala Corona de Aragón, Edificio Pignatelli, 28 de septiembre–31 de octubre, 1994 (Zaragoza: Gobierno de Aragón, 1994); Jornadas de estudio: VI centenario del Papa Luna: CalatayudIllueca, 1994 (Calatayud: Centro de Estudios Bilbilitanos, 1996); Begoña Pereira Pagán, El Papa Luna: Benedicto XIII (Madrid: Alderabán, 1999); Luis Suárez Fernández, Benedicto XIII: Antipapa o papa? (1328–1423) (Barcelona: Ariel, 2002); Ovidio Cuella Esteban, Bulario aragonés de Benedicto XIII. 1. La curia de Aviñon (1394–1403) (Zaragoza: Institución Fernando el Católico, 2003); Bulario aragonés de Benedicto XIII. 2. La Curia itinerante (1404–1411) (Zaragoza: Institución Fernando el Católico, 2005); Bulario aragonés de Benedicto XIII: 3. La Curia de Peñíscola (1412–1423) (Zaragoza: Institución Fernando el Católico, 2006); and Barbara von Langen-Monheim, “Un mémoire 134

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46 l the great western schism Pedro legate to Castile, Aragon, Navarre, and Portugal, and had sent him in 1393 to France, Brabant, Flanders, Scotland, England, and Ireland. Pedro resided in Paris when not traveling. His wide European experience and connections made him well-informed and positioned to forge a solution to the crisis.139 I will return to this election in the later chapter on tyranny (Chapter 4), but it needs to be emphasized that by 1394, the University of Paris had labored intensively to find means of union. In Robert Norman Swanson’s survey of universities’ efforts at ending the crisis, Universities, Academics and the Great Schism, the author emphasizes that the most pertinent efforts emanated from the University of Paris.140 Universities approached the affair theoretically. Throughout the 1380s, early efforts concentrating on the call of a council had failed; they were re-intensified in the early 1390s by more radical means. Pierre Plaoul, Gilles Deschamps, and Jean Gerson, speaking for the University of Paris, put forward his theologians’ and jurists’ suggestions: The Church’s unity was only possible if either pope abdicated willingly (cessio), if a commission selected by both popes reached a conclusion (compromissio), or if a general council was convened (concilium pacis).141 Most renowned intellectuals of the time, including, Pierre d’Ailly, Simon de Cramaud, Nicholas de Clamanges, Gilles Deschamps, and Honoré Bonnet supported one of these solutions. Benedict XIII paid lip service to the idea of abdicating, but refused to submit to secular pressure; he preferred “discussions” between the two popes (via discussionis). Later chapters on tyranny and on Avignon (Chapters 4 and 7) will also detail various aspects of the two Subtractions of French obedience (1398–1403, and 1410–11); but for now, their histories will be streamlined. Benedict’s proposed “discussions” led to several French embassies. In May 1395, Charles VI sent his uncles, the dukes of Berry and Burgundy, along with his brother, the duke of Orléans, to Avignon to persuade the pope to abdicate – to no avail. Gontier Col, a secretary of the king of France, kept a journal that informs his readers on the day-to-day conduct of negotiations. Gontier explains that the pope habitually offered dinner to the emissaries, after which he systematically refused any of their

justificatif du pape Benoît XIII – L’Informatio seriosa, étude de ses reformulations, de 1399 aux actes du concile de Perpignan (1408), édition trilingue français-anglais-allemand,” Études roussillonnaises 23 (2007–8): 1–224. 139 Valois, La France, 3: 1–17, offers great details. 140 In addition to Swanson’s analysis, primary sources are also available in Franz Bliemetzrieder, Das Generalkonzil Im Grossen Abendländischen Schisma (Paderborn: Ferdinand Schöningh, 1904). 141 Francis Oakley, “Gerson as Conciliarist,” in A Companion to Jean Gerson, ed. Brian Patrick McGuire (Leiden: Brill, 2006), 179–204; and David Zachariah Flanagin, “God’s Divine Law: The Scriptural Founts of Conciliar Theory in Jean Gerson,” in The Church, the Councils, and Reform: The Legacy of the Fifteenth Century, ed. Gerald Christianson, Christopher M. Bellitto, and Thomas M. Izbicki (Baltimore: Catholic University of America Press, 2008), 101–21, review the most recent historiography of a well-researched topic. For recent Gerson scholarship, see Paul Avis, Beyond the Reformation?: Authority, Primacy and Unity in the Conciliar Tradition (London: Bloomsbury, 2008); and Daniel Hobbins, Authorship and Publicity before Print: Jean Gerson and the Transformation of Late Medieval Learning (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2009). At this point, I will not enter the debate, but there is a tendency in the historiography to flatten and extend the chronology of Gerson’s secessionism. It would be hard to find secessionist arguments in his early 1390s writings.

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Redressive Action k 47 proposals.142 On July 7, the French ambassadors told Benedict that they had eaten enough! Frustrated, they left Avignon.143 After three years of negotiations, the pope’s refusal to abdicate led to a subtraction of obedience in the fall of 1398. The royal ordinance forbade anyone to obey Benedict’s commands or send any tax revenues to his court. The king deprived the pope of his right of collation and decreed the loss of benefices for any of his followers. This legislation favored a French church independent from the papacy both financially and administratively. The resolution reached Avignon in early September 1398, and most of Benedict’s cardinals left for Villeneuve, directly across the bridge on French ground (the Rhône River separated French from papal lands). They supported an Avignon pope over the Roman “intruder.” But ideally, they wanted someone they could influence, not their current inflexible pope. Benedict found refuge in his palatial fortress with some Spanish troops and five cardinals. The Subtraction quickly led to war. Martin de Alpartil, Benedict’s chamberlain, wrote a chronicle that elaborates on this momentous event.144 He explains how king and cardinals decided that the capture of the pope would be the best means of softening his resolve; to reach this end, they hired the condottiere Boucicaut to take the palace and its pope. Once in Avignon, Boucicaut bragged to anyone listening that he would drag the pope back to Paris in chains; but neither the pope (nor his troops) gave in. The siege lasted almost a year, until May 1399, and actually worked to Benedict’s advantage. Convinced by the pontiff’s stubbornness and resilience, Louis of Orléans (Charles VI’s brother) admired the pope’s gumption and became his fierce defender. Louis negotiated an end to the siege that required the pope to remain isolated in his palace. Benedict complied with this mandate, until he escaped on March 12, 1403. According to a receipt found at the Vatican archives, Benedict was disguised as a Carthusian monk when he left the palace at three in the morning. On reaching the Inn of Saint-Antoine in Avignon, the Constable of Aragon and several knights in the retinue of Louis of Orléans were waiting for him.145 The group embarked, sailing down the Rhône and up the Durance toward Châteaurenard, in Provencal territory. The pope’s evasion precipitated the end of the Subtraction, and France quickly restored its obedience to Benedict XIII in May 1403.146 The result of the Subtraction was a total failure. It had created in France an administrative mess when royal collectors replaced papal officers, leaving ecclesiastical benefices as mere pawns in secular hands. Like papal

142

A reminder that during the Middle Ages, food, table manners, courtliness, and politics, were all imbricated. See, for example, Bruno Laurioux, Manger au Moyen âge: Pratiques et discours alimentaires en Europe aux XIVe et XVe siècles (Paris: Hachette litératures, 2002); and Massimo Montanari, Food Is Culture, trans. Albert Sonnenfeld (New York: Columbia University Press, 2006). 143 Edmond Martène and Ursin Durand, Veterum scriptorum et monumentorum historicorum, dogmaticorum, moralium, amplissima collectio (1724), 7: 479–525. 144 Martin de Alpartil, Cronica actitatorum temporibus Benedicti XIII Pape, ed. and trans. José Angel Sesma Muñoz and María del Mar Agudo Romeo (Zaragoza: Centro de Documentación Bibliográfica Aragonesa, 1994). 145 AAV, Reg. Aven. 348, f. 671. 146 I have addressed the details in Rollo-Koster, “The Politics of Body Parts: Contested Topographies in Late Medieval Avignon,” Speculum: A Journal of Medieval Studies 78, no. 1 (2003): 66–98; and Avignon and Its Papacy, 260–65.

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48 l the great western schism officers, royal officers also increased financial pressures. The French clergy, who had so vehemently supported the Subtraction, soon realized that the king’s authority was no better than the pope’s. Meanwhile, in retaliation, Benedict ordered the French clergy to pay back its arrears after the 1403 Restitution of Obedience. He further managed to fund his travels by dividing his court. The camerlengo and treasurers remained with the pope, while the fiscal administration stayed in Avignon to collect the necessary funds. These administrators then supplied the pope with letters of change paid in Perpignan, Genoa, or Savona. This sophisticated system allowed the pope and his court to survive via the cashing of letters of change. The system had the advantage of minimizing risks by eliminating the physical movement of funds.147 Ironically, the difficulties created by the Schism did not alter the popes’ resolve. As we will see in Chapter 6, in Rome Boniface constantly faced threats articulated by his enemies, who were led, as always, by the Colonna family. Boniface exerted little control over the Italian Papal States, which gained politically by constantly repositioning themselves in relation to both popes. On the Clementist side, the Subtraction and Restitution had only managed to buttress Benedict’s resolve to remain in power. His main opponent, Philip the Bold, duke of Burgundy, died in April 1404. The duke’s rivalry with his nephew, Louis of Orléans, had fueled most of the events of the Subtraction. The death of Philip, however, did not bring much relief to Benedict since his son, John the Fearless, inherited his father’s rancor against Orléans, and acted on it, ordering Louis’s death in 1407. Between 1403 and 1406, Benedict proclaimed his willingness to heal the Schism, keeping the French crown and the University of Paris in suspenseful anticipation of his actions. Jean Gerson, rejecting papal omnipotence, reiterated that extraordinary situations required unproven remedies, like a council, more fitting at the time than cession – a position that Bénèdicte Sère labels “conciliarism by anti-subtractionism.”148 Benedict promised to step down if the Roman pope acted similarly, or if he died. He also promised to attend a council, if he could be convinced that it truly aimed at reuniting the Church. Contemporary scholars such as Jean Gerson assumed that Benedict’s emphasis on tying his behavior to the Church’s unity was a ploy devised to maintain the status quo. For Gerson, a council was the sole viable solution to the Schism. Gerson encountered Benedict in Marseille in November 1403. As the French ambassador delegated to negotiate with the pope, Gerson preached a sermon insisting that a good shepherd sacrifices his life for his ewes.149 The halfhidden allusion hit its mark and shamed Benedict into action, as he then agreed to

Again, see Favier, Les finances pontificales, 645–79. Valois, La France, 3: 418. The most up-to-date discussion can be found in Bénédicte Sère, L’invention de l’Église: Essai sur la genèse ecclésiale du politique, entre Moyen Âge et modernité (Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 2019), 21–66, where she defines Pierre d’Ailly’s and Jean Gerson’s intellectual trajectory. For the latter, she identifies three phases attached to the precise political context of his formulations. Between 1391 and 1402, Gerson defended papal-conciliarism – the council remained a papal instrument; 1402–1409, he proposed counciliarism instead of subtraction of obedience; and 1409–1418, he favored true conciliarism (see p. 26). 149 Guillaume Henri Marie Posthumus Meyjes, Jean Gerson, Apostle of Unity: His Church Politics and Ecclesiology (Leiden: Brill, 1999), 99–101. On the theme of the good shepherd, see Bénédicte Sère, “Bonus Pastor animam suam dat pro ovibus suis, (Jn 10, 11). Le thème du Bon Pasteur au cœur des débats sur le Grand Schisme,” Actes du colloque “Apprendre, produire, se conduire: Le modèle au Moyen Âge,” 45ème congrès de la SHMESP (Paris: Publications de la Sorbonne, 2015), 117–31 147

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Redressive Action k 49 negotiate directly with Boniface. He dispatched ambassadors to Rome, who reached the city at the end of September 1404. But we can also note that Genoa was by then under French tutelage, governed by Marshal Boucicaut (brother of the Boucicaut who had besieged the pope in Avignon), and a convenient steppingstone toward Italy.150 In any case, we know from the Religieux de Saint-Denys that the meeting that took place between Benedict’s and Boniface’s envoys was contentious, followed by the Roman pope’s death a mere three days later on October 1, 1404. Alarmed by the coincidental timing of Boniface’s death, the Roman population imprisoned Benedict’s envoys until the end of the conclave that elected his successor, Innocent VII.151 As in earlier instances, the death of a pope initiated a flow of declarations from all sides intended to delay the opening of the conclave; they were largely ignored. The Roman cardinals elected Boniface’s successor and swore that they and the new pope would work toward unity.152 Their choice of Cosimo de’ Migliorati, who took the name of Innocent VII, was based on his reputed “honesty.” The new pope continued negotiating with the now-freed Avignonese envoys, who remained in the city to continue their task. Discussions eventually stalled, and in February 1405, the ambassadors returned home as Benedict excommunicated his new rival. Benedict chose this moment to march toward Rome, intent on forcing unity. It seemed no secret anymore that, supported by Louis of Orléans, the pope was reverting to the “way of force.” He traveled from Marseille to Nice and entered Genoa in May 1405. He remained in the city for a year, waiting for support from the king of France that never materialized. The French influence over Genoa naturally alarmed Pope Innocent, even more so because it emboldened his archenemies in Rome, the Colonna clan. The Colonna continued instigating Rome’s population to revolt. Innocent charged his nephew Ludovico Migliorati, a condottiere whom he had named cardinal, to defend his position. But Migliorati’s heavy-handed response fueled the uprising even further, forcing the pope and his court to escape to Viterbo and to dismiss his nephew (whom he later made a marquis and count). But, behind all Roman political intrigues of the early fifteenth century stood Ladislaus of Durazzo, son of Charles of Durazzo. Ladislaus was the on-and-off king of Naples, archenemy of Louis II of Anjou, and supporter in Rome of the Colonna family. Papal policies were again enmeshed with the disputed Kingdom of Naples and the claims of its rulers to papal territories. Like his father Charles, Ladislaus had inherited the contested Angevin Kingdom of Naples and defended it against the son of Louis I of Anjou, Louis II. The Roman papacy backed Durazzo, their relation however was tense, as illustrated by Durazzo’s actions against Innocent. The pope realized that Durazzo’s ambition did not stop at the defense of his southern kingdom of Naples; he knew that Durazzo also plotted to conquer Rome and other Papal States. Innocent’s response was to keep

150

151 152

The events are covered by Steven A. Epstein, Genoa & the Genoese, 958–1528 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1996); and Craig Taylor and Jane H. M. Taylor, The Chivalric Biography of Boucicaut, Jean II Le Meingre (Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 2016), 144–64. The tumultuous political history of the city brought that French tutelage, which did not last long. By September 1409, Genoa gave itself to the Marquis of Montferrat, elected captain for one year. CRSD, 3: 217–18. See also Valois, La France, 3: 420.

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50 l the great western schism troops of mercenaries readily available in Rome. As we will see in Chapter 6, the dealings with Ladislaus, who made his territorial assise in Italy the linchpin of any negotiations between popes, overwhelmed Innocent and Rome’s policies. Still, a new hope for an eventual solution appeared at Innocent’s death. The Venetian Angelo Correr, who took the name of Gregory XII on his election in November 1406, promised to work actively toward a solution and meet his rival. This appeared detrimental to his nephews and Ladislaus, who understood that union would end his Italian dream. It is at this juncture that Florence became actively involved in facilitating a meeting between both parties, and when this failed, in making a council possible. Relying heavily on Florence’s Archivio di Stato’s Consulte e Pratiche series, Alison Williams Lewin has delineated the essential role played by the city leading up to and during the Council of Pisa. She argues, against Hans Baron, that not only Milanese, but also papal politics, shifted Florentine internal and external policies to accompany both papacies and to urge the embrace of union, rather than fighting it.153 The long history of estrangement between Florence and the papacy defined peninsular politics during the fourteenth century. Likewise, keeping open commercial access to the Papal States defined Florentine economic policies. Florence kept both war and peace in consideration. Once weakened by the double papacy, the Papal States’ volatility threatened the commercial livelihood of Florence. Visconti’s Milanese involvement in the Papal States added to this instability. A weaker Papal State attracted Milan, especially in gateway Guelf cities like Perugia and Bologna, who fell to the Visconti in 1400 and 1402 respectively. After failed Ultramontane alliances with France and Bavaria, Florence turned to the Roman popes, keeping relationships with the Clementist obedience cordial. Florence pushed for union through an initial meeting between both parties where they would negotiate a mutual agreement to end the crisis. As of December 1406, both popes agreed in principle to renounce the papal chair if the other one did similarly, but Benedict added that he wanted to negotiate a settlement first. Gregory dispatched an embassy to Marseille, at the abbey of St. Victor where Benedict resided. Florence had proposed its own grounds, but Gregory chose Savona, to which Benedict agreed – in theory.154 Negotiations over the meeting’s details took place during the months separating the summers of 1407 and 1408. European powers also weighed in, either advocating for or decrying the meeting. German lords, Ladislaus of Durazzo, and England rejected Savona as “French” and a trap for Gregory, who would be forced to abdicate. Florence, Venice, France, and Benedict approved the location, as a means to keep the promise of union alive. Hélène Millet and Elisabeth Mornet have underscored the immense diplomatic labor that cardinals also deployed to convince European powers that their method 153

154

Alison Williams Lewin, “‘Cum Status Ecclesie Noster Sit’: Florence and the Council of Pisa (1409),” Church History 62, no. 2 (1993): 180; and Hans Baron, The Crisis of the Early Italian Renaissance (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1966). The negotiations are well represented in the writing of Dietrich of Nieheim. See Dietrich von Nieheim, Theoderici de Nyem’s De scismate libri tres, ed. Georgius Erler (Leipzieg: Veit, 1890), 259–80. See also Edoardo Piva, “Venezia e lo schisma durante il pontifico di Gregorio XII (1406–1409),” Nuovo Archivio Veneto 13 (1897): 135–58; Aldo Landi, Il Papa deposto (Pisa 1409): L’idea conciliare nel Grande Schisma (Turin: Claudiana, 1985); and Renzo Ninci, “Ladislao e la conquista di Roma del 1408: Ragioni e contraddizioni della diplomazia fiorentina,” Archivio della Società Romana di Storia Patria 111 (1988): 161–224.

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Redressive Action k 51 was sound. They sent legates far and wide, including Premonstrian Christian Cobant to Scandinavia and Northern Germany (Bremen-Hamburg) with a thick dossier recapitulating the seceding cardinals’ case.155 In January 1408, both popes had never been so close. Thirty miles separated Benedict in Porto Venere from Gregory in Pietrasanta, yet they could not agree on conditions to meet. They never did. Florence responded to this failure by pushing for a renewed tentative meeting in Pisa, in Florentine territory. Florentines debated the feasibility of such a location, and in the end, approved it.156 In April 1408, Ladislaus of Durazzo seized Rome and set himself in direct competition to Florence’s politics of union. Gregory XII escaped to Lucca, and henceforth did something that he had promised he would not do. He named new cardinals, his nephews included – four in May 1408 and ten in September.157 By then the cardinals of both obediences realized that their popes would never meet and would never agree on a solution. They decided to assemble without them. As C. M. D. Crowder argues, “The failure of force or of an agreed settlement eventually obliged moderates, like Gerson and many of the cardinals, to adopt the position that a general council, representative of the Church, should impose its authority on an heretical pope; and that obturate persistence in schism was a form of heresy.”158 In June 1408, Florence’s Signoria government asked Pisa to allow cardinals of both obedience free entry into the city. It should be noted that parallel events in France pushed the French monarchy and clergy toward a renewed break with Benedict XIII. As of May 1408, France declared its neutrality of obedience. Financial matters precipitated this second French Subtraction of Obedience (1408–1411); it will be analyzed in detail in the chapter on Avignon (Chapter 7).159 Evoked in a few strokes, the Second Subtraction followed a familiar pattern, exaggerated by the length of the negotiations with Benedict XIII and his procrastinations. Once freed in 1403, after the first Subtraction and Restitution of Obedience, Benedict required the French clergy to pay all ecclesiastical arrears that had lagged since 1398. The French clergy and the University of Paris, fueled by the dukes of Burgundy and Berry, bucked against the idea and decided to meet in assemblies. Discussions started in November 1406, failed, and on January 3, 1407, 155

156 157

158

159

Hélène Millet and Elisabeth Mornet, “Un témoin scandinave de la propagande en faveur du concile de Pise (1409),” in Papauté, monachisme et théories politiques. Volume I: Le pouvoir et l’institution ecclésiale, ed. Pierre Guichard, Marie-Thérèse Lorcin, and Jean-Michel Poisson (Lyon: Presses universitaires de Lyon, 1994), 123–33, at http://books.openedition.org/pul/18021. Lewin, “Cum Status Ecclesie Noster Sit,” 184–85. See the sound and convenient website set by Salvador Miranda: http://cardinals.fiu.edu/consistor ies-xv.htm (accessed on February 19, 2021). C. M. D. Crowder, Unity, Heresy, and Reform, 1378–1460: The Conciliar Response to the Great Schism (New York: St. Martin’s, 1977), 3. In this volume, Crowder translates some of the primary sources available in Mansi regarding the Council of Pisa. For other source compilations, see The protestant (because religious confession guided compilations), Jacques Lenfant, Histoire du concile de Pise (Amsterdam: Pierre Humbert, 1724); then the most complete and very Catholic, Johannes Dominicus [Giovanni Domenico] Mansi, ed., Sacrorum Conciliorum nova et amplissima collectio. Editio novissima, vol. 26 (Venice: Antonius Zatta, 1783); and vol. 27 (Venice: Antonius Zatta 1784), 1–503; Carl Joseph Hefele, Histoire des conciles, ed. H. Leclercq, vol. 7.1 (Paris: Letouzey, 1916). The term is convenient as it somewhat parallels what had happened in 1398. It has been used widely by the historiography. Technically, France remained neutral and did not truly subtract obedience to “its” pope.

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52 l the great western schism France declared its independence from the papacy. Jean Delumeau affirms maybe a bit prematurely that Gallicanism, the French Catholic Church’s religious and political independence from the pope, was born in January 1407, when local French authorities decided on certain temporal matters independently from the papacy.160 By May 1408, the University of Paris condemned the pope as schismatic and heretic for refusing union, again. This declaration facilitated France’s break, and the way of council, in Pisa. On June 29, cardinals from both sides announced their respective cession and adherence to the plan of a general council.161 The council opened a few months later, on the Annunciation feast day (March 25), 1409, with some 500 prelates (cardinals, bishops, abbots, priors and generals of various orders, jurists, and theologians). Hélène Millet provides the day-to-day schedule of meetings.162 It is not the point here to retrace the entire history of conciliarism. Brian Tierney and Francis Oakley, most recently, and many others before them, have discussed extensively the reflections of theologians, canonists, and jurists regarding the authority of the pope in relation to members of the Catholic faith (the congregatio or universitas fidelium).163 By the time of Pisa, the topic was far from new and various authors recognized that the authority of the congregatio superseded that of the pope and could represent the Church. A general council equated the reunion of the universal Church, with competent ecclesiastical jurisdictional powers, “concilium generale seu Ecclesia congregata judex est.”164 Cardinals disregarded the foundational act of disobedience they had committed (like the Subtraction of Obedience) when they left their pope – an act they rationalized for the good of the Church, like “members of a body worried about the state of its head.”165 They understood that success would legitimize their endeavor. A council had been suggested to solve the Schism as soon as the break occurred. It was rejected, only to be reintroduced when all other options ran their courses and failed.166 160

For a review of Gallicanism, see Jean Delumeau’s article at Universalis.fr, www.universalis.fr/ encyclopedie/gallicanisme/ (accessed on February 19, 2021). Gallicanism is usually assumed to have started circa 1302, with the opposition between Philip the Fair and Boniface VIII after his bull Unam Sanctam published in November. 161 Lewin, “Cum Status Ecclesie Noster Sit,” 187. 162 Hélène Millet, Le Concile de Pise: Qui travaillait à l’union de l’Église en 1409? (Turnhout: Brepols, 2010), 19–22. 163 Brian Tierney, Foundation of the Conciliar Theory: The Contribution of the Medieval Canonists from Gratian to the Great Schism (Leiden: Brill, 1998, [1955]). For the most recent discussion, see Francis Oakley, The Conciliarist Tradition (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008); and The Watershed of Modern Politics: Law, Virtue, Kingship, and Consent (1300–1650) (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2015). See also Bernward Schmidt, Die Konzilien und der Papst: Von Pisa (1409) bis zum Zweiten Vatikanischen Konzil (Freiburg: Herder, 2013); Gerald Christianson, Christopher M. Bellitto, and Thomas M. Izbicki, eds., The Church, the Councils, and Reform: The Legacy of the Fifteenth Century (Baltimore: Catholic University of America Press, 2008); Paul Avis, Beyond the Reformation?: Authority, Primacy and Unity in the Conciliar Tradition (London: Bloomsbury, 2008). 164 Hélène Millet, “La représentativité, source de la légitimité du concile de Pise (1409),” in Théologie et droit dans la science politique de l’État moderne. Actes de la table ronde de Rome (12–14 novembre 1987) (Rome: École française de Rome, 1991), 247. 165 Millet, “La représentativité, source de la légitimité,” 244, 248. 166 See Francis Oakley, “The ‘Propositiones Utiles’ of Pierre d’Ailly: An Epitome of Conciliar Theory,” Church History 29, no. 4 (1960): 398–403; and Louis B. Pascoe, Church and Reform: Bishops, Theologians, and Canon Lawyers in the Thought of Pierre d’ Ailly (1351–1420) (Leiden: Brill, 2004).

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Redressive Action k 53 The Council of Pisa that “dared” to depose two popes has had a long history of deprecation, culminating in the elimination of the papal Pisan line in authoritative lists of popes. In 1947, Cardinal Angelo Mercati moved Alexander V and his successor John XXIII from the Annuario Pontificio, eliminating them from the list of Urbanist obedience, without a single explanation. He relegated them to the ranks of antipopes – a judgment that no contemporaries ever made.167 Thus in 1958, Angelo Roncalli re-named himself John XXIII – with perhaps a nod to conciliarism with his calling of Vatican II. The council of Pisa is still denigrated by Catholic historiography as the meeting that added a third pope to the Schism’s two, and it is still considered lacking legitimacy – something that its members so ardently resisted. In a recent publication celebrating its 600-year anniversary, Hélène Millet (supported by Johannes Vincke and Dieter Girgensohn’s numerous publications) rehabilitates the Council and presents it in a favorable light.168 She highlights the fracture between contemporary sources – which actually considered the council legitimate, and the historiography, bogged down in confessional, doctrinal, and national quagmire. Millet defends the council’s legitimacy gauging the “quality” of its representatives. Applying a prosopographical methodology to the list of participants, she maps their geographical origins, and demonstrates that indeed they represented the majority of both obediences, a rebuttal to critics who asserted that the council was misrepresentative and controlled by the French. She points out that many Tuscans attended, along with a variety of other European representatives. In addition, the identity of all attendants permits her to assert that most were highly educated and highly qualified to take the decision they did.169 A series of difficult questions arose regarding the legitimacy of the enterprise. Were cardinals legitimate if they deposed the pope who had elevated them? If the popes who had named them were illegitimate, their cardinalate elevation was null and void. Only a pope See Angelo Mercati, “The New List of the Popes,” Mediaeval Studies 9 (1947): 71–80, a list that the Jesuit Thomas E. Morrissey rebutted with a “Modern mortals are not in a better position to answer the question [of legitimacy], unless one chooses an a priori stance based on a-historical arguments,” in “After Six Hundred Years: The Great Western Schism, Conciliarism, and Constance,” Theological Studies 40 (1979), 496. 168 Millet, Le Concile de Pise, 9. See also, Johannes Vincke, Briefe zum Pisaner Konzil (Bonn: Hanstein, 1940); “Acta Concilii Pisani,” Römische Quartalschrift 46 (1938): 81–331; and Schriftstücke zum Pisaner Konzil (Bonn: Hanstein, 1942). Works by Dieter Girgensohn include, “Antonio Caetani und Gregor XII. in den Jahren 1406–1408: Vom Papstmacher zum Papstgegner,” Quellen und Forschungen aus italienischen Archiven und Bibliotheken 64 (1984): 116–226; “Über die Protokolle des Pisaner Konzils von 1409,” Annuarium historiae conciliorum 18 (1986): 103–27; “Antonio Loschi und Baldassarre Cossa vor dem Pisaner Konzil von 1409,” Italia medioevale e umanistica 30 (1987): 1–93; “Ein Schisma ist nicht zu beenden ohne die Zustimmung der konkurrierenden Papste. Die juristische Argumentation Benedikts XIII (Pedro de Lunas),” Archivum Historiae Pontificiae 27 (1989): 197–247; “More sanctorum patrum alias utiliter in ecclesia observato: Die Einberufung des Pisaner Konzils von 1409,” Annuarium historiae conciliorum 27/28 (1995–1996): 325–82; “Materialsammlungen zum Pisaner Konzil von 1409: Erler, Finke, Schmitz-Kallenberg, Vincke,” Annuarium Historiae Conciliorum 30 (1998): 455–519; “Von den konziliaren Theorie des spaten Mittelalters zur Praxis: Pisa 1409,” in Die Konzilien von Pisa (1409), Konstanz (1414–1418) und Basel (1431–1449) Institution und Personen, ed. Heribert Müller and Johannes Helmrath (Ostfildern: Thorbecke, 2007), 61–94; and Florian Eßer, Schisma als Deutungskonflikt. Das Konzil von Pisa und die Lösung des Großen Abendlädischen Schismas (1378–1409) (Vienna: Böhlau, 2019). 169 Millet, Le Concile de Pise, 39–145, 285–309. 167

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54 l the great western schism could legitimately call a council; Pisa was not such a council, especially when Gregory and Benedict had called their own councils. Members of the council had to renege their previous obedience to duly elected popes, etc. The questions were numerous and contentious.170 The council mitigated all criticism by performing its own legitimacy.171 Its membership legitimized it: it was representative of the vast majority and highly knowledgeable on the topics at hand. Moreover, when describing discussions leading to the calling of the meeting, Cardinal Uguccione stated the following to the English ecclesiastics he was attempting to convince to join the enterprise (which they eventually did): “When all these members of both Colleges met together, it seemed indeed as if the Holy Spirit had come upon them, just as evangelical truth affirms that it came upon the assembled apostles.”172 The argument of divine providence was difficult to reject. The pope’s absolute sovereignty was also debunked with a “And if we were to concede that a pope was so free as one who could be judged only by himself, he would be a monarch and could become a tyrant.”173 Uguccione also proposed natural law to debunk the argument that only a pope could call a council, asking to revisit “the reasonable foundation and intention of the law. For if the law lacks a reasonable foundation, it is not a law and is to be abolished.”174 Previous canons had decreed the pope’s authority to call a council in order to defend the unity of the Church. The cardinals were now using this right against the popes, not to break but to restore unity. Popes were presently incapable to call a council that would assemble members from an opposing obedience because they labeled that obedience schismatic; its members would therefore not attend. To ascertain the rights of cardinals, Uguccione quotes the Hostiensis (the canonist Henry of Segusio) and reminds his audience of the binding “electoral capitulation” (oath) that Angelo Correr (Gregory XII) took during the conclave to end the Schism. It would lead to perjury if he did not respect it.175 170

171

172

173 174 175

Crowder, Unity, Heresy, and Reform, 55–58, cites a document that sheds doubt on the legitimacy of the meeting. While Pisa was being set up, Benedict XIII called his own council in Perpignan in the middle of the second subtraction of French obedience. Little known, and attended solely by a few Spaniards, it was honored by a congress in 2009 to also celebrate its 600th anniversary. It met between November 1408 and March 1409. See Le Concile de Perpignan (15 novembre 1408–26 mars 1409): Actes du colloque international (Perpignan, 24–26 janvier 2008), ed. Hélène Millet (Canet: Éditions Trabucaire, 2009). Gregory XII of course also set his own council, which met at Cividale in Friuli. It opened on June 6, 1409, a day after Gregory was deposed by Pisa. It ended with Gregory’s escape from the city on September 6, 1409. It was poorly attended, his Italian obedience choosing rather to attend Pisa. It also accomplished very little. See L. Schmitz, “Die Quellen zur Geschichte des Konzils von Cividale,” Römischer Quartalschrift 8 (1894): 217–58; Hubert Jedin, John Patrick Dolan, Karl Baus, Hans Georg Beck, Wolfgang Muller, Robert Aubert, Erwin Iserloh, and Joseph Glazik, History of the Church, 8 vols. (London: Burns & Oates, 1965–1980), 4: 449, offers a skimpy bibliography. See also Valois, La France, 4: 112–13. Crowder, Unity, Heresy, and Reform, 47. For a discussion of English’s attitude toward the council, see Margaret Harvey, “Nicholas Ryssheton and the Council of Pisa, 1409,” in Councils and Assemblies, ed. C. J. Cumming (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1971), 197–207. Crowder, Unity, Heresy, and Reform, 48. Crowder, Unity, Heresy, and Reform, 48. Crowder, Unity, Heresy, and Reform, 50. A transcription of the “electoral capitulation,” found in the Annales ecclesiastici and Dietrich von Nieheim, can both be found at www.csun.edu/~hcfll004/ 1406_Conclave_Oath.html (accessed on February 19, 2021). As discussed previously, similar accusations had been levied against Benedict XIII. Gregory, for example, promised not to elevate

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Redressive Action k 55 On January 1, 1409, shortly before its opening, Pierre d’Ailly also defended the legitimacy of a council in his Propositiones Utiles.176 He legitimized the council with history, jurisprudence, and the necessity to unify “the head” of the Church. He cites the councils that had been called in the primitive Church, the limited peculiar instances when popes had decreed that only they could summon a council – to fight the dangers of heresies and schism. He asserts that these limitations could be lifted for the good of the Church, and in any case, these were valid only if the papacy was one – which was not the present case. He concludes with a premonitory: “And it can be convoked, not only by the Lords Cardinal, but also, on occasion, by any of the faithful whatsoever, who, if they are able, know how to help further, either by authoritative power or loving advice, the execution of so great a good.”177 His statement foreshadowed the calling of the Council of Constance. The Council’s multiple acta also responded to future criticism. When passing judgment over the two popes it clearly rationalized its actions. It called the union between the two colleges: Lawfully made, and that they form one College . . . the summons of the holy council by the cardinals was and is legal and legitimate; was to a place that is suitable, secure, and safe; and that this very assembly is and represents a council of the universal Church; and that all kinds of jurisdiction, definition and powers of decision over the issue of the Church’s unity and the settlement of schism concern and belong to this council against the disputants for the papacy, who notoriously are keeping the Church of God; its possessions and everything connected with it, in a state of schism.178

After discussing the necessity to withdraw from either obedience, which was approved by the majority less two bishops (English and German), the two claimant popes were described as “rivals” and “fellow-conspirators for the papacy.”179 One can note the accusatory legalese. At the second session and subsequently, both popes or their representatives were called, loudly from the cathedral’s parvis, to defend new cardinals, which he did, including two of his nephews. Electoral capitulations were not new. They were prohibited in 1274 and 1353. Canonists such as Giovanni Andrea, in the mid-fourteenth century, and Giovanni da Legnano and Baldus de Ubaldis (Baldo degli Ubaldi), during the Schism, argued that the popes’ plenitudo potestatis preempted any “conditions” before or after their elections. See Francisco de Moxò, “La legitimidad de Benedicto XIII,” in Jornada de studio VI centenario del papa Luna, Calatayud-Illueca, 1994 (Calatayud: Centre de estudios bilbilitanos, 1996), 353–70. The work of Baldus in favor of the Urbanist obedience is analyzed by Walter Ullmann, The Origins of the Great Schism: A Study in Fourteenth-Century Ecclesiastical History (London: Burns, Oates, and Washbourne, 1948). However, John Canning, The Political Thought of Baldus de Ubaldis (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987), 41–43, underscores that at the end of his life (c. 1400), Baldus, frustrated by the length of the Schism, accepted the need for external involvement to reach union, through kings or council. 176 Oakley, “The ‘Propositiones Utiles’ of Pierre d’Ailly,” 398–403; and Crowder, Unity, Heresy, and Reform, 51–54. Bénèdicte Sère argues for a circumstantial, non-linear reading of d’Ailly. See Sère, L’invention, 24–25; and Bénédicte Sère, “Pierre d’Ailly fut-il un conciliariste? Les effets d’optique de l’état archivistique,” in Pierre d’Ailly. Un esprit universel à l’aube du XVe siècle, ed. Jean-Patrice Boudet, et al. (Paris: Académie des inscriptions et Belles Lettres, 2019), 211–31. 177 Oakley, “The ‘Propositiones Utiles’ of Pierre D’ailly,” 402. 178 Crowder, Unity, Heresy, and Reform, 58. 179 Crowder, Unity, Heresy, and Reform, 60.

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56 l the great western schism themselves, to no avail (March 26, 27, 30, April 15, and 24, 1409). The popes’ absence sealed their fate as contumacious. After hearing in April the anti-conciliar embassy sent by Rupert, king of the Romans, and Carlo Malatesta, lord of Rimini, the 15th session on June 5, 1409, deposed both popes, “Pedro de Luna and Angelo Corario formerly called Benedict XIII and Gregory XII.”180 The meeting is legitimized again, “among a great number of masters in holy theology and doctors of both laws, and all are found in like manner to be unanimously in agreement on this sentence, its method, manner and justice.”181 The sentence states: [The popes] were and are notorious schismatics, persistent nourishers, defenders, approvers, supporters and maintainers of schism over a long time, as well as notorious heretics and wanderers from the faith, entangled in notorious and extraordinary offenses of perjury and breaking their oath, notoriously scandalizing the universal, holy Church of God, and notoriously and manifestly giving evidence of being incorrigible, contumacious, and impenitent. The holy synod declares that for these and other reasons they have made themselves unworthy of all honor and dignity, including the office of pope, and that on account of the foregoing iniquities, outrages and offences, both and each of them have ipso facto been deposed and deprived, and even cut off from the Church, by God, and the holy canons, so that they do not reign, command or preside anymore.182

Christians of all estates were absolved from obedience and of any pains they could incur doing so. The council also lifted any previous sentences the popes would have laid on their curias. This was an extraordinary event. The language was strong. It utterly laid the blame on the popes’ behavior, which was widely known. But most of all, it legitimized the sentence with “God and the holy canons.” Once the popes were deposed, the next step was to elect a new one. To maintain protocol, the assembled cardinals waited the traditional novena before they entered into conclave – regardless of the fact that no pope had died. Again, respect of tradition garnered legitimacy. After the traditional ten days, they met on June 15, 1409. Eleven days later, on the 26th, a conclave met independently from the Council. Consisting of fourteen Urbanist and ten Clementist cardinals, the conclave elected Cardinal Pietro Filargo who took the name of Alexander V.183 The conclave was “free” of any external interactions, extremely well guarded, and without tumult (Et revera fuit electio multum libere facta, et conclave die ac nocte fuit strenuissime custoditum et sine tumult).184 The election went without a hiccup, except 180

Crowder, Unity, Heresy, and Reform, 60. Crowder, Unity, Heresy, and Reform, 60. 182 Crowder, Unity, Heresy, and Reform, 60. 183 See, Mansi, Sacrorum Conciliorum, 27: 406–7, “Post sententiam autem lata praedicti domini cardd. decem diebus prout a sacris canonibus constitutum est, expectatis, et interim his, quae disponenda et providenda erant, dispositis atque provisis, tandem die sabbati proxime praeterita (die 15 Junii) Conclave pro electione facienda ex auctoritate et approbatione sacri Concilii intraverunt.” 184 Robert of Sauxillanges: 181

fuerunt in electione omnes domini cardinales utriusque collegii concordes, nemine discrepante. Et revera fuit electio multum libere facta, et conclave die ac nocte fuit strenuissime custoditum et sine tumultu: ita quod nec nutu, nec verbo domini cardinales poterant scire quod extra fiebat, nec illi qui erant extra scire poterant quod intus fiebat . . .. Qua responsione

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Redressive Action k 57 some haggling over food apportionments.185 The electoral proceedings followed canonical principles to the letter, in turn legitimizing this election. It remained to be seen if the popes would accept it. They did not. In his own council, Gregory XII excommunicated the popes of the Clementist obedience, and considered the election of Alexander V uncanonical.186 Meanwhile, the Council of Perpignan maintained Benedict as true pope.187 Both deposed popes understood the intricacies of medieval canon law; both stood their ground knowing that their capitulation would automatically delegitimize them. Our modern world can gauge with difficulty the general response to this sentence. A revealing glimpse appears in the letters sent from Avignon by Francesco di Marco Datini’s agents, to his residence in Prato. We can read that the news of an election arrived at Avignon on July 2, 1409, only a few days after it occurred, with praises of “Let it please God that the election will be good for all Christianity. I can assure you that in the entire region everyone is excited about it. He [Alexander V] has the reputation of being a good and learned man.”188 But the next sentence states, “Our pope [Benedict XIII] is in Perpignan.”189 Within two sentences the agent was happy to announce the election of a unique pope, but still considered the deposed pope “his” pope. This simple example demonstrates how “foreign” the Schism remained. While the curia and great lords discussed matters of unity, folks were happy to follow the pope who had resided in their city. Each obedience had strong local ties. per concilium facta, dum surgeremus, supervenerunt nova de conclavi, quod dominus cardinalis Mediolanensis, frater Minor, olim nominatus magister Petrus de Candia . . . electus erat in papam. Quibus auditis, omnes arcesserunt ad impendendum reverentia. Pulsatae sunt campanae per totam civitatem, et fuit portatus ad ecclesiam cathedralem, et ibi inthronizatus, et omnes domini cardinales recesserunt ad domos suas, ipso reverente ad domum archiepiscopi, qua utitur pro papatio, et fuerunt in electione omnes domini cardinales utriusque collegii concordes, nemine discrepante.

185

Edmond Martène and Ursin Durand, Veterum scriptorum et monumentorum historicorum, dogmaticorum, moralium, amplissima collection, vol. 7 (Paris: Apud Montalant, 1733), 1068–1124. Robert of Sauxillanges: In conclavi autem domini cardinales steterunt per decem vel undecim dies, videlicet usque ad diem Mercurii de mane, qui fuit XXVI. Junii. Pendente autem deliberatione conclavis, inter dominos praelatos de concilio generali fuit magna altercatio, utrum videlicet domini cardinales deberent cogi ad observandum praecise decretalem Ubi majus, ut videlicet post octavam diem non haberent nisi panem unum et aquam; vel utrum servaretur quaedam extravagans moderativa illius constitutionis Ubi majus edita per Clementem VI. qua cavetur, quod etiam lapsa octava die, uti possint uno ferculo, in quo fructus non computantur, licet unus cardinalis alteri suum ferculum communicare non possit. Et finaliter in hoc debato fuit conclusum multis rationibus, praesertim per dominos Florentinos, quia juraverant dictam decretalem Ubi majus facere observari cum moderatione Clementis VI, videlicet quod illa extravagans servaretur. Et ita fuit factum.

Martène and Durand, Veterum scriptorium, 7: 1113–19. Mansi, Sacrorum Conciliorum, 26: 1088–91. 187 See Barbara von Langen-Monheim, “Un mémoire justificatif du pape Benoît XIII – L’Informatio seriosa, étude de ses reformulations, de 1399 aux actes du concile de Perpignan (1408), édition trilingue français-anglais-allemand,” Études roussillonnaises 23 (2007–2008): 1–224. 188 Robert Brun, “Annales avignonnaises de 1382 à 1410 extraites des archives Datini,” Mémoires de l’institut historique de Provence 15 (1938), 177. 189 Brun, “Annales avignonnaises,” 177. 186

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58 l the great western schism Another Avignonese chronicler mentions the excommunication (his Provençal states la sentènsia) against the two popes on June 5, 1409. He notes “our own was called Benezet,” showing again the local, personal ties, but then names the Roman pope Boniface IX, evidence enough that a Clementist commoner did not pay much attention to the Urbanist obedience. He does offer the exact number of cardinals who entered in conclave (twentyfour) and the date of entry into conclave on June 15. He is accurate when he mentions the date of June 26 for the election of Alexander V, whom he names correctly, and July 7 for his coronation. He adds, “and note that there is schism, that is three popes. Benedict XIII made in Avignon; Boniface made in Rome, and the said Alexander, who it is said is Greek.”190 Alexander was born in Crete. Again, the language seems detached and impersonal. He shows no distress at the situation. As long as there is a pope for the Avignonese obedience, all seems well. In a Rome submitted to the leadership of Ladislaus of Durazzo, another chronicler, Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, mentions that urban authorities required inhabitants to remove from their houses the arms of Gregory’s cardinals who had abandoned him for the Pisan obedience. A few lines later, the chronicler mentions that a new pope had been created in Pisa.191 While the reactions of authors issued from both obediences feel laconic, the consequences for both cities were quite real and the Pisan election inaugurated a period of war and instability in both Rome and Avignon, as we will see in Chapters 6 and 7. It is notable that Victor Turner highlights the ritualistic aspects of the redressive stage. He states, “ritual often involves a sacrifice, literal or moral, a victim as scapegoat for the group’s ‘sin’ of redressive violence.”192 Shortly after Pisa’s acts of condemnation were drafted and signed by cardinals on June 5, 1409, the Pisan citizenship erupted in celebrations. It culminated with the burning of two papal effigies.193 While in this case the meaning is straightforward, the Council’s members during their meetings also doubled down on their accusations against the abandoned popes. Fearing that contumacy and stubbornness may not be reason enough to depose them, cardinals added accusations of witchcraft against both. Gregory purportedly consulted a Jewish doctor to know his future, while the charges against Benedict were thicker, ranging from the use of necromancers and diviners, books of magic (and prophecies), and demons who fulfilled his wishes, including weather magic.194 These charges underpinned the more legalistic accusations. If some cardinals balked at the legal sentences laid upon both popes, they could not reject or put aside an accusation of heresy for cause of sorcery. In any case, as Victor Turner rightfully highlights, social drama led to social disfunction and the liminal. All quotes are found in Francois Charles Carreri, “Chronicon parvum Avinionense de schismate et bello (1397–1416),” Annales d’Avignon et du Comtat Venaissin 4 (1916), 166. 191 Francesco Isoldi, ed. Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo: Dal 19 ottobre 1404 al 25 settembre 1417 (Città di Castello: Rerum Italicarum scriptores, 1917), 40–41. 192 Victor W. Turner, From Ritual to Theatre: The Human Seriousness of Play (New York: PAJ, 1982), 71. 193 Valois, La France, 4: 100. 194 Margaret Harvey, “Papal Witchcraft: The Charges against Benedict XIII,” Studies in Church History 10 (1973): 109–16. One can note that a plot aimed at eliminating Benedict was discovered in the years 1406–1407. It involved wax balls, magic incantations on paper and cloths, and, of course, a wax doll with the pope’s portrait, pierced with nails. See Luc Pierre, “Un complot contre le pape Benoit XIII (1406–1407),” Mélanges d’archéologie et d’histoire 55 (1938): 374–402. 190

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Redressive Action k 59 By this point in time, redressive actions may have seemed successful. Alexander announced that a new council would eventually deal with reforms of the Church, and on August 7, 1409, he formally ended the Council of Pisa. He left for Bologna, fully aware that Ladislaus, in control of Rome, would never recognize him, as the king still supported Gregory XII. Aided by his Neapolitan cardinal-soldier Baldassare Cossa, Alexander aimed at reconquering central Italy, which still eluded him. However, he was now supported by a somewhat united Europe: France, England, Hungary, Portugal, Tuscany, and Germany. While Benedict XIII’s obedience was dwindling to the few Spanish kingdoms and Scotland, Alexander V died on May 4, 1410, only a few months after his election. The “warrior” pope, Baldassare Cossa, who took the name of John XXIII (1410–1415) succeeded him. If John XXIII (Baldassare Cossa) could feel satisfied at being the pope of a reunited Christianity, he still could not take possession of his see, and Europe still vacillated in allegiance.195 Made legate of Romagna by Boniface IX and known for his brutality, Baldassare Cossa had established his legacy in Bologna, positioned to reconquer the lost Papal States. After Innocent, the lasting alliance between Gregory XII and Ladislaus pushed Cossa (who mistrusted Ladislaus and his interest in the Papal States) toward Florence. Cossa quickly aligned his views with the Republic, challenging Gregory and Ladislaus. Legate and Republic united against Ladislaus. In May 1408, Cossa abandoned Gregory, siding with the Pisan line, participating in the council and the election of its pope. Cossa succeeded Pope Alexander after his death, elected by seventeen cardinals on May 17, 1410 – by a conclave that took place in “his” city of Bologna. Ordained a priest on May 24, he was consecrated the following day in order to be crowned pope. Continually in search of an offensive alliance to regain his see, John renewed the old Clementist partnership with the Angevins, always at the ready to take back “their” southern Italian territories. Anjou (now supported by the Urbanist pope) and Ladislaus fought, and we will see the dire repercussions caused by this rivalry in Chapter 6. John and Louis of Anjou managed to temporarily reseize Rome, entering the city on April 12, 1411. A month later, on May 19, Louis defeated Ladislaus in a Pyrrhic victory at Rocca Secca, but he eventually left Italy without building on his success, while Gregory preserved some Italian support with Carlo Malatesta, lord of Rimini. With his Roman return, John promised to follow through with the reforms embedded in decrees of the 21st session of the Council of Pisa. He called for a council in Rome, which turned out to be a failure, namely, for lack of attendants. That same summer, however, John elevated several cardinals, including some of the best minds of his generation. Even his detractors (basically the entire historiography) recognize that 195

The following narratives rely on François-Charles Uginet “Giovanni xxiii, antipapa,” in Enciclopedia dei Papi (2000); and Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani 55 (2001), at www.treccani.it/ enciclopedia/antipapa-giovanni-xxiii_%28Dizionario-Biografico%29/ (accessed on February 19, 2021). www.treccani.it/enciclopedia/antipapa-giovanni-xxiii_%28Enciclopedia-dei-Papi%29/ (accessed on February 19, 2021) offers a well-documented, even though concise, entry on the pope. Both entries are identical. I am also indebted to narratives found in C. M. D. Crowder, Unity, Heresy, and Reform, 1378–1460; and Louis Ropes Loomis, The Council of Constance: The Unification of the Church, ed. and trans. Louise Ropes Loomis, John Hines Mundy, and Kennerly M. Woody (New York: Columbia University Press, 1961).

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60 l the great western schism naming Francesco Zabarella, Pierre d’Ailly, Guillaume Filastre, and Gilles des Champs influenced the direction of events to come.196 Within an extremely fluid situation, John eventually lost the support of Bologna to Malatesta, and subsequently of Florence, but most importantly of his best condottiere, Muzio Attendolo “Sforza.” At this point, the pope stopped negotiating with Ladislaus, and counterattacked. The pope excommunicated Ladislaus on August 11, 1411, and called a crusade against him in September. The pope’s search for new alliances brought him to the newly elected king of the Romans, Sigismund of Luxemburg (on June 21, 1411), who continued to support Gregory and the Urbanist line, as his father Charles IV had.197 John intervened in the king’s dispute with Venice in November 1411, hoping to force his involvement in papal affairs. But Ladislaus’s pressing threats on Rome brought the pope back to the negotiating table, and he eventually recognized Ladislaus’s claim to Sicily, in exchange for his abandonment of Gregory (some further exchanges of benefices, ecclesiastical taxes, and hard cash were added to the deal). Freed of his “southern” oppressor, John returned to the promised Council of Rome, opening it in early February 1413. When the meetings finally took place, it accomplished little. It condemned the already dead Wycliffe, burned his writings on San Pietro’s steps, and promised to remedy abuses in the distribution of benefices – while offering many derogations to please his supporters. In March, 3 pope announced the council’s postponement to December, in a city to be named at 196

On Pierre d’Ailly, see, amongst many, Paul Tschackert, and Pierre D’ Ailly, Peter Von Ailli (Petrus De Alliaco) Zur Geschichte Des Grossen Abendländischen Schisma Und Der Reformconcilien von Pisa Und Constanz (Gotha: F. A. Perthes, 1877); Francis Oakley, The Political Thought of Pierre d’Ailly: The Voluntarist Tradition (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1964); Laura Ackerman Smoller, History, Prophecy, and the Stars (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994); Louis B. Pascoe, Church and Reform Bishops, Theologians, and Canon Lawyers in the Thought of Pierre d’Ailly, 1351–1420 (Leiden: Brill, 2005); Magda Hayton, “Pierre d’Ailly’s De Falsis Prophetis II and the Collectiones of William of Saint-Amour,” Viator 44 (2013): 243–65; Hélène Millet, “Les conciles de Pise et de Constance à l’image du Rhin. La pensée de Pierre d’Ailly sur la résolution du Schisme,” Annuarium Historiae Conciliorum 47 (2015): 23–44; and Pierre d’Ailly. Un esprit universel à l’aube du XVe siècle, ed. Jean-Patrice Boudet, et al. (Paris: Académie des inscriptions et Belles Lettres, 2019). For the most recent on Guillaume Fillastre, see Didier Marcotte, Humanisme et culture géographique à l’époque du Concile de Constance: Autour de Guillaume Fillastre, actes du colloque de l’Université de Reims, 18–19 novembre 1999 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2002). On Francesco Zabarella, see Gasparo Zonta, Francesco Zabarella (1360–1417) (Padoua: Tipografia Del Seminario, 1915); Armin Bergmann, “Der Jurist Und Kardinal Francesco Zabarella Und Seine Rolle im Entstehungsprozess des Dekrets Haec Sancta,” Biuletyn Polskiej Misji Historycznej 11 (2016): 87–120, at dx.doi.org/10 .12775/BPMH.2016.003 (accessed on February 19, 2021); Alexander Russell, “Popular Authority in Conciliar and Canonistic Thought: The Case of Elections,” Revue de l’histoire des religions 231/ 2 (2014): 313–40; Thomas E. Morrissey, Conciliarism and Church Law in the Fifteenth Century (Burlington: Ashgate, 2014); Dieter Girgensohn, Francesco Zabarella aus Padua (Vienna: Böhlau, 1993); and Gerald Christianson, Thomas M. Izbicki, and Christopher M. Bellitto, eds., The Church, the Councils, and Reform: The Legacy of the Fifteenth Century (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 2008). On Gilles des Champs, see Hélène Millet, “Le cardinal Gilles des Champs (ca 1350–1414),” in Les prélats, l’église et la société: XIe-XVe siècles: Hommage à Bernard Guillemain, ed. Françoise Bériac and Anne-Marie Dom (Talence: CROCEMS, 1994), 231–41. 197 For the most up-to-date historiography and bibliography, see Karel Hruza and Alexandra Kaar, ed., Kaiser Sigismund (1368–1437): Zur Herrschaftspraxis eines europäischen Monarchen (Vienna: Böhlau, 2012).

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Redressive Action k 61 a later date. By May, Ladislaus was again leaving Naples to foray north toward Rome, requesting this time the custody of all states of the church. The pope escaped to Viterbo, Florence, and eventually Bologna, when Ladislaus retook Rome in the summer of 1413. Sigismund stood again as the pope’s only hope. In August 1413, the pope dispatched cardinals Zabarella, Challant, and Chrysolaras to the king of the Romans with the aim of discussing where the sessions of a next council would take place. They met in Como and agreed on Constance, on imperial territory (against John’s wishes, who would have preferred Nice or Genoa), with an opening date of November 1, 1414. Meeting in Lodi in December 1413, pope and king formalized the agreement, and the pope sent his convocation bull calling for a council to reunite and reform the Church and suppress heresy.198 Surveying the historiography of the council that has been called “the diplomatic center of Europe . . . as close as the Middle Ages came to the Congress of Vienna or the United Nations” would be an incommensurable task, outside the scope of this chapter.199 However, one author stands out for his successful attempt at reconciling hundreds of years of historiography, the latest of which was motivated by the 600-year celebration of the Council’s opening.200 Both in 1995 and 2015, Ansgar Frenken thoroughly reviewed works published up to these dates. His research does not need to be repeated.201 Faithful to its tradition, the German historiography has remained extremely productive on the topic via a website, www.konziliengeschichte.org, and a journal, the Annuarium Historiae Conciliorum. The journal was initiated in 1969 by Walter Brandmüller and Remigius Bäumer – leaning

Even though dated, George C. Powers, “Nationalism at the Council of Constance,” The Catholic Historical Review 14, no. 2 (1928): 171–204, reviews the available sources and narrates the convoluted history leading to the Council. On the issue of nationalities, see Sophie Vallery-Radot, Les Français au concile de Constance (1414–1418). Entre résolution du schisme et construction d’une identité nationale (Turnhout: Brepols, 2016). 199 Crowder, Unity, Heresy, and Reform, 24. 200 See, for example, Karl-Heinz Braun, Das Konstanzer Konzil: 1414–1418. Weltereignis des Mittelalters [Große Landesausstellung Baden-Württemberg “Das Konstanzer Konzil 1414–1418 – Weltereignis des Mittelalters” in Konstanz vom 27. April bis zum 21. September 2014] (Darmstadt: Theiss, 2013); and Karen Evers and Anita Auer, Das Konstanzer Konzil: Katalog, 1414–1418. Weltereignis des Mittelalters (Darmstadt: Theiss, 2014). 201 See Ansgar Frenken, Die Erforschung der Konstanzer Konzils (1414–1418) in den letzten 100 Jahren (Paderborn: Schöningh, 1995); and “Aktuelle Publikationen zum Konstanzer Konzil (1414–18),” in H-Soz-Kult, November 2, 2015, at www.hsozkult.de/publicationreview/id/reb-22010 (accessed on February 19, 2021). The same author also published a more general history of the Council, see Ansgar Frenken, Das Konstanzer Konzil (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2015). A further review of the historiography is also available from other specialists such as Thomas Martin Buck, “Das Konzil von Konstanz (1414–1418). Ein Literatur- und Forschungsbericht,” Historische Zeitschrift 302 (2016): 703–30; and Pierre Monnet, “Pavel Soukup, Jan Hus; Monika Küble, Henry Gerlach (trad.), Augenzeuge des Konstanzer Konzils. Die Chronik des Ulrich Richental; Thomas Martin Buck, Herbert Kraume, Das Konstanzer Konzil (1414–1418). Kirchenpolitik. Weltgeschehen. Alltagsleben; Ansgar Frenken, Das Konstanzer Konzil,” Revue de l’IFHA [Revue de l’Institut français d’histoire en Allemagne Online], online since January 1, 2016, at http://journals .openedition.org/ifha/8515 (accessed on February 19, 2021). The recent Heribert Müller, Die kirchliche Krise des Spätmittelalters: Schisma, Konziliarismus und Konzilien (München: Oldenbourg, 2012) is also praiseworthy. 198

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62 l the great western schism heavily toward pro-Catholic and “papalist” biases.202 To stay with recent iterations in the English language, the discussions found in the works of Philip Stump, Gerald Christianson, Thomas M. Izbicki, and Christopher M. Bellitto should be emphasized.203 As underscored by Pierre Monnet in an examination of recent works on the topic, the celebrations surrounding the council’s anniversary also allowed a fresh rethinking of its liturgy. The council was indeed a religious act, comprising the positioning, rank, and strategies of its participants, and the memory of earlier councils that Constance mobilized, adapted, or ignored. The council asked essential questions of leadership: Who leads the universal Church? What can an assembly do? Why reform? And how to build consensus?204 Monnet also emphasizes numbers. Constance was on a scale rarely attained in the Middle Ages, and like an Olympic capital of today, Constance paid the price of its notoriety with a financial debt that lingered for decades. Three popes were deposed, one pope elected, and two heretics burned. Discussions lasted some four years; the council was attended by some 400 fathers, hundreds of petite mains (little hands), 50,000–70,000 visitors, 4 nations, a king of the Romans, 189 scribes, 330 bakers, 365 trumpets, 700 prostitutes, and 73 bankers. It prompted a swell of written records including acts, decrees, sermons, trials, reports, spreadsheets, letters, treaties, drawings and caricatures, poems, pamphlets, sheet music, and chronicles, with a historiography in some seventeen languages.205 For a few years, Constance was truly the capital of Christendom, a rival to Rome and Avignon. On the flip side of the coin, the memory of the council was erased for centuries. From its end until Vatican II, the Council of Constance, which had been the behemoth of its time, was buried beneath the veneer of a papalist narrative.206 Francis Oakley dwells on the issue of the council’s lost memory and oblivion after what were considered the radical steps taken by Constance’s fathers. As he states: And it might in fact have been an extraordinary thing had Constance not gone about ending the schism in the way it did – that is, by laying claim to an authority superior, under

202

See the two volumes of Cardinal Walter Brandmüller, Das Konzil von Konstanz, 1414–1418 (Padeborn: Schöningh, 1991–2000). 203 See Phillip H. Stump, The Reforms of the Council of Constance (1414–1418) (Leiden: Brill, 1994); Gerald Christianson, Thomas M. Izbicki, and Christopher M. Bellitto, The Church, the Councils, and Reform: The Legacy of the Fifteenth Century (Washington, DC: The Catholic University of America Press, 2011). See also 3 certain works remain the staple of the field, such as the foundational volume, Tierney, Foundations of the Conciliar Theory, beautifully honored by Francis Oakley in “The Conciliar Heritage, and the Politics of Oblivion,” in The Church, the Councils, and Reform: The legacy of the fifteenth century, ed. Gerald Christianson, Thomas M. Izbicki, and Christopher M. Bellitto (Washington, DC: The Catholic University of America Press, 2011), 82–97. for his most recent contribution, see Francis Oakley, The Conciliarist Tradition: Constitutionalism in the Catholic Church, 1300–1870 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003). The Council of Constance: The Unification of the Church, ed. and trans. Louise Ropes Loomis, John Hines Mundy, and Kennerly M. Woody (New York: Columbia University Press, 1961); and C. M. D. Crowder, Unity, Heresy, and Reform, remain foundational to the English-speaking historiography. 204 See Monnet, “Pavel Soukup, Jan Hus,” 5. 205 Monnet, “Pavel Soukup, Jan Hus,” 3–4. 206 See Oakley, “The Conciliar Heritage,” 82–97.

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Redressive Action k 63 certain circumstances, to that of the pope, and by then proceeding to bring to trial and to depose two of the rival papal claimants – including John XXIII (whom it viewed as the true pope but a bad man) – and by successfully pressuring the third claimant, Gregory XII, into resigning.207

Constance’s success at solving the Schism in itself signed its doom. No future pope could implicitly recognize its authority and simultaneously maintain his own. As John reached the council in a timely fashion, entering the city on October 28, 1414, delegations continued their peregrinations to Constance, with Aragon’s legates arriving as late as April 1416. Sigismund, emperor of the Romans, entered the city on Christmas Day 1414, engaging his audience with a grand performance that was noticed by contemporaries, as will be seen in Richenthal’s chronicle addressed in Chapter 3. The council organized its logistics during its first session on November 6, 1414, setting up plenary sessions, commissions, the recording of minutes, and acta for its binding decisions. As Kennerly Woody remarks, the council was organized in a fashion similar to much earlier councils – but solely at its beginning and end. Tradition offered pope and cardinals control of the occasion. But the council’s central moments returned to a model represented by Constantinian imperial authority, in this case, under the leadership of Sigismund.208 Much discussion surrounded voting procedures, and Constance offered bloc voting according to a system of nations based on geography, language, and ethnicities, which formed ecclesiastical units. This system had been utilized in earlier councils (Lyon 1274, Vienna 1311, Pisa 1409). Initially, four nations formed the council (France, Italy, Germany, and England). Spanish states, under their own Spanish nation, arrived later once they subtracted their obedience from Benedict XIII. Each nation deliberated, voted, and held a veto. Bloc voting neutralized in effect the papal presidency of the council. Political nationalism of course ran rampant and complicated discussions, especially while the Hundred Years War continued, with France and England attempting to neutralize each other. The council had to decide early on if it would represent a continuation of Pisa or a brandnew synod. John XXIII of course pushed for continuation, knowing full well that Pisa had deposed two popes, and if Constance did not continue it, the odds were high that a new council would not recognize acts of the previous one, and consequently ask him to resign. John’s worst-case scenario did occur. After agreeing to consider a resignation, he escaped and summoned the cardinals to join him. Two days after John’s escape, Jean Gerson delivered the sermon that led to Haec Sancta. At the heart of the solution to the Schism stood two radical decisions, one of which, Haec Sancta (April 5, 1415), historian John Neville Figgis labels, “the most revolutionary official document in the history of the World.”209 The statement is somewhat exaggerated when we consider the long medieval conciliar tradition discussed by Brian Tierney in his Foundations of the Conciliar Theory: The Contribution of the Medieval Canonists from

Oakley, “The Conciliar Heritage,” 84. Kennerly Woody, “The Organization of the Council,” in The Council of Constance: The Unification of the Church, ed. and trans. Louise Ropes Loomis, John Hines Mundy, and Kennerly M. Woody (New York: Columbia University Press, 1961), 52–65. 209 John Neville Figgis, Political Thought from Gerson to Grotius, 1414–1625: Seven Studies (New York: Harper, 1960), 41. 207

208

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64 l the great western schism Gratian to the Great Schism (1955). The second highly controversial decree was Frequens (October 9, 1417).210 Frequens institutionalized conciliar over papal authority and diminished papal sovereignty by advocating, The frequent holding of general councils is a pre-eminently good way of cultivating the patrimony of Our Lord. It roots out the briars, thorns and thistles of heresies, errors and schisms, correct excesses, reforms what is deformed, and brings a richly fertile crop to the Lord’s vineyard . . . by a perpetual edict, we establish, enact, decree and ordain that henceforth general councils shall be held so that the first shall take place in five years immediately following on the end of this council, and the second in seven years of that immediately following council; and thereafter they shall take place ten years to ten years for ever.211

The decree allowed the pope to choose the meeting’s location and alter the timing of its reunion, but always within the scope of the council’s approval. The decree seriously altered the pope’s authority and his freedom of governance.212 Haec Sancta granted the council an authority that was superior to that of the pope in certain circumstances. In this case, John XXIII, the pope who had convoked the council at Constance escaped, in so-called fear for his life – which happened only when he realized that he could not control the council’s actions. John bet on the collapse of the reunion without its head, the pope. With the support of Frederick, Duke of Austria, John found refuge in Schaffhausen, down the Rhine, and aimed at dissolving the congress. With its

210

211

212

The full texts of both decrees can be found in Giuseppe Alberigo and Norman P. Tanner, eds., Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils, 2 vols. (Washington, DC: Georgetown University Press, 1990), 1: 409, 438–42. It should be noted that the exact text of the decrees is questionable. See, for Haec Sancta, the discussion of Michiel Decaluwe, “A New and Disputable Text-Edition of the Decree Haec Sancta of the Council of Constance (1415),” Cristianesimo nella storia 32, no. 2 (2006): 417–45. For the most recent historiography, see Sebastián Provvidente, “The Haec sancta Synodus Decree: Between Theology, Canon Law and History: Judicial Practices and Plenitudo Potestatis,” Temas Medievales 20 (2012): 197–244, at www.scielo.org.ar/pdf/tmedie/v20n1/v20n1a08.pdf; and “The Synodial Practices of the Council of Constance (1414–1418): Between Symbol and Trace,” Bulletin du centre d’études médiévales Auxerre (2013) at doi.org/10.4000/cem.12784 (accessed on February 19, 2021). See also Francis Oakley, The Conciliarist Tradition: Constitutionalism in the Catholic Church, 1300–1870 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), 60–110; Michiel Decaluwe, “Three Ways to Read the Constance Decree Haec sancta (1415): Francis Zabarella, Jean Gerson, and the Traditional Papal View of General Councils,” in The Church, the Councils, and Reform: The Legacy of the Fifteenth Century, ed. Gerald Christianson, Thomas M. Izbicki, and Christopher M. Bellitto (Washington DC: The Catholic University of America Press, 2011), 122–139; and “Das Dekret Haec Sancta und sein Gedanklicher Kontext auf dem Konzil von Konstanz und auf dem Konzil von Basel,” Annuarium Historiae Conciliorum 41, no. 2 (2009): 313–14 Crowder, Unity, Heresy, and Reform, 128–29. For a discussion of the decrees, see Francis Oakley, Council over Pope? Towards a Provisional Ecclesiology (New York: Herder & Herder, 1969); Thomas M. Izbicki, “Papalist Reaction to the Council of Constance: Juan de Torquemada to the Present,” Church History 55 (1986): 7–20; and Thomas Morrissey, “After Six Hundred Years: The Great Schism, Conciliarism, and Constance,” Theological Studies 40 (1979): 495–509. For a recent discussion, see Émilie Rosenblieh. “Le décret Frequens ou la constitutionnalisation de l’autorité conciliaire (première moitié du XVe siècle),” Annuarium historiae conciliorum 47, no. 1 (2015): 153–78.

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Redressive Action k 65 pope missing, the council risked losing its raison d’être. To survive and go on in its goal of “unity, heresy, and reform,” the council embarked on a rationalization of its own existence sine pope. Haec Sancta reads: This holy synod, constituting the general council of Constance, for the purpose of eradicating the present schism and of bringing about the union and reform of the Church of God in head and in members, lawfully assembled in the Holy Spirit to the praise of Almighty God, ordains, defines, enacts, decrees and declares as follows, in order to achieve more easily, more securely, more completely and freely the union and reform of the Church of God; and, first, it declares that, lawfully assembled in the Holy Spirit, constituting a general council and representing the catholic Church militant, it holds power directly from Christ; and that everyone of whatever estate or dignity he be, even papal, is obliged to obey it in those things which belong to the faith, and to the eradication of the said schism, and to the general reform of the said Church of God in head and in members. Item, it declares that anyone, of whatever condition, estate or dignity he be, even papal who should contumaciously disdain to obey the mandates, enactments or ordinances or the precepts of this holy synod, or of any other council whatsoever that is met together according to the law, in respect of the foregoing or matters pertaining to them, done or due to be done, shall be subjected to well-deserved penance, unless he repent and shall be duly punished, even by having recourse to other supports of the law, if that is necessary.213

Since its promulgation, the decree has been cause for discussions and interpretations. It is either accepted within the frame of the particular circumstances of the Schism, accepted generally in any circumstances, or rejected because the Council could be considered “illegal” for lack of papal oversight. It was in itself threatening enough to the authority of the pope that Pius II on January 18, 1460, issued the bull Execrabilis to condemn appeals of this kind [to a council], reject them as erroneous and abominable, and declare them to be completely null and void . . . and we lay down that from now on, no one should dare, regardless of his pretext, to make such an appeal from our decisions, be they legal or theological, or from any commands at all from us or our successors, to heed such an appeal made by another, or to make use of these in any fashion whatsoever.214

The bull condemned offenders with excommunication, whether they be colleges and universities, and/or notaries and any other witnesses. To assert his authority, Pius warned offenders of “the indignation of almighty God and of his blessed apostles, Peter and Paul.”215 But behind the bravado, Pius respected consensus. He granted that he had reached his conclusion with the “counsel and with the assent drawn from our venerable Fathers . . . all the cardinals and prelates and all those who interpret divine and human law in accordance with the curia.”216 Regardless of his injunction, Pius adhered to some form of corporatism.

213

Crowder, Crowder, 215 Crowder, 216 Crowder, 214

Unity, Unity, Unity, Unity,

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Heresy, Heresy, Heresy, Heresy,

and and and and

Reform, Reform, Reform, Reform,

83. 180. 181. 180.

66 l the great western schism Haec Sancta tempered, to say the least, councils such as Vatican I (1869–1870), for example, and its stance on papal infallibility and primacy. It is no surprise that some could consider the decree heretical, and deemed it to be forgotten. Conciliar “tradition” could not coexist with the papal primacy of the modern Catholic era. Thus, Catholic tradition created a large gap between the Council of Vienna (1311–1312) and Florence (1439–1445), eradicating for centuries the memory of Constance.217 Vatican II (1962–1965), and the work of many historians, have reestablished a semblance of balance on an issue that still remains open. The important point to remember is that for the fathers assembled at Constance, regardless of the decision taken by the synod, John XXIII was a duly elected, legitimate pope who gave credence and validity to the council he had called. In any case, after his escape, John was eventually convinced to return to Constance. He was deposed in May 1415, while Gregory XII resigned in July 1415. Both were allowed to remain cardinals. Benedict XIII, ensconced in Perpignan, continued to plead with the Spanish nations to maintain their obedience, but they abandoned him one by one: Aragon, Castile, Navarre, and the County of Foix. The Council deposed Benedict in July 1417, paving the way for a new papal election that would reunite Catholic Christianity under one leader. Martin V was elected in November 1417. Both Haec Sancta and Frequens embarked the Latin Church on another tumultuous journey that is outside the scope of this discussion. The pope elected by Constance, Martin V, duly called for the meeting of councils, at Pavia in 1423. The council moved to Siena shortly thereafter, where it quickly ended. Another meeting was called at Basel and this one lasted several years, 1431–1449. It was marred with political tumult when Martin’s successor Eugenius IV attempted to shut the council down.218 While the attached footnotes refer heavily to scholars of late medieval ecclesiology to substantiate the study of the Council of Constance, its analysis within the framework of a Turnerian social drama has never been proposed. The previous pages have underscored how symbiotically the Schism evolved into a social drama. Victor Turner anticipated some, if not all, the stages that would unravel during the Schism, as well as the efforts at ending it. In addition, discussing the means to resolve a social drama during the redressing stage, Turner states, “Redress, too, has its liminal features, its being ‘betwixt and between,’ and, as such, furnishes a distanced replication and critique of the events leading up to and composing the ‘crisis.’ This replication may be in the rational idiom of the judicial process, or in the metaphorical and symbolic idiom of a ritual process.”219 We can see in Haec Sancta and Frequens a virulent critique of the papal monarchy. Both decrees were in total transgression of the historical evolution of papal authority. They were the “liminal” moment before the 217

See discussions in Crowder, Unity, Heresy, and Reform, 180–81. For the most recent, see Michiel Decaluwe, Thomas M. Izbicki, and Gerald Christianson, A Companion to the Council of Basel (Leiden: Brill, 2016); Walter Brandmüller, Das Konzil von Pavia-Siena, 1423–24, 2 vols. (Münster: Aschendorff, 1964; 1974); Quellen zur Kirchenreform im Zeitalter der grossen Konzilien des 15. Jahrhunderts. II. Die Konzilien von Pavia/Siena (1423/24), Basel (1431–1449) und Ferrara/Florenz (1438–1445), ed. and trans. Jürgen Miethke and Lorenz Weinrich (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgessellschaft, 2002); Johannes Helmrath, Das Basler Konzil, 1431–1449 (Cologne: Böhlau, 1987); Joachim Stieber, Pope Eugenius IV, the Council of Basel, and the Secular and Ecclesiastical Authorities in the Empire (Leiden: Brill, 1978); Joseph Gill, Eugenius IV: Pope of Christian Union (Westminster: Newman, 1961). 219 Turner, On the Edge of the Bush, 180. 218

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Redressive Action k 67 return to status quo, the last tremors, the culmination of the oligarchic tendencies that ran rampant throughout the fourteenth-century’s Avignon papacy. I can easily envision reactions of “So what?” among some historians reading this analogy of the Schism to the Turnerian language of social drama, but the aim here is to emphasize the very social aspect of the Schism over the institutional, disincarnated reading that it has received until now. The Schism was indeed a social drama, and its solution required a total upheaval of ecclesiastical order and hierarchy. Before the reintegration stage could be achieved, the Church revolutionized its structure and turned on its head the long history of papal domination and the construction of the papacy as an absolute monarchy. The Schism’s solution required this radical step. The argument could also be made that the Council’s brutal attempts at suppressing the Hussite heresy, and its leader Jan Hus, confirmed its leadership and its performance of authority. The Council’s attempt at quelling the Hussites showed its dominance over matters of faith, something that could be conceived as a papal prerogative. The Czech Jan Hus, master and rector of Prague University, was a Wycliffite. He supported vernacular reading of Scriptures and criticized from his pulpit ecclesiastics who did not obey the commands of chastity and poverty, leading to his strong condemnation of simony and the sale of indulgences – which John XXIII had multiplied for his fight against Ladislaus of Naples. Hus was also a social reformer who questioned feudal structures as much as the power of popes and their spiritual weapons, excommunications, and interdicts. Invited to present his view in Constance, and with a letter of safe-conduct from Sigismund in hand, he and his acolyte Jerome of Prague were seized upon arrival in November 1414, summarily condemned, and burned at the stake. Hus was executed on July 6, 1415, and Jerome on May 30, 1416.220 As Sebastian Provvidente argues, Research focusing on the final phase of Hus’s trial at the Council of Constance primarily concentrates on the question of whether the Council did or did not respect the ordo iuris; it fails, however, to take into consideration the fact that the trial took place in an entirely exceptional institutional context, marked by the temporary definition of the plenitudo potestatis in conciliar terms. While the Council fathers had invoked legitimate disobedience in the trial against Pope John XXIII, immediately afterward, they again felt the need to express obedience to the authorities, and particularly to the plenitudo potestatis of the Council.221

Standing true to his congregation, Hus never recanted. As Provvidente concludes: After pronouncing the verdict, the Council proceeded to conduct the ritual of degradation from the clerical state. Under the supervision of seven bishops, Hus was dressed as if he were to celebrate Mass, and was invited for the last time to retract his theses and recant them. Hus again 220

221

The topic will be addressed again in my discussion of Richenthal’s chronicle (Chapter 3). For more information, see the recent historiographical discussion in Craig D. Atwood, “Jan Hus,” in Oxford Bibliographies: Renaissance and Reformation, at DOI: 10.1093/OBO/97801953993010024; Thomas A. Fudge, The Trial of Jan Hus: Medieval Heresy and Criminal Procedure (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2013); Jan Hus; Šmahel and Pavlíček, A Companion to Jan Hus; Soukup, Jan Hus. Sebastián Provvidente, “Hus’s Trial in Constance: Disputatio aut inquisitio,” in A Companion to Jan Hus, ed. František Šmahel and Ota Pavlíček (Leiden: Brill, 2015), 286.

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68 l the great western schism refused, as he did not want to look like a liar in conspectu Domini, nor did he want to sin against his conscience and against Divine truth. Finally, by recanting things he had never said, he did not want to bring trouble to those before whom he had preached. Thus, the ritual continued, and they snatched the chalice from Hus’s hand, removed his clothes, and shaved a tonsure; next, they placed a hat on his head with a depiction of three devils and the inscription ‘Hic est heresiarcha’. He was then handed over to the hands of the secular powers, and was subsequently executed in a meadow between Constance and Gottlieben. Afterwards, his remains were thrown into the Rhine so that the Bohemians could not venerate his relics.222

The Council’s ritualized performance buttressed its authority. The execution of Jan Hus initiated a full revolt in Bohemia that dragged on until the conclusion of the following council in Basel, in 1436. The price to pay for the Council’s plenitudo potestatis. In a similar vein, the Council’s focus on reforms, as discussed by Philip Stump, was another display of its authority. Stump argues that the Council’s fiscal reforms (taxation of the clergy, cardinals’ incomes, indulgences, simony, papal provisions, promotions), reformatio in capite (reforms of the Sacred College, curia, papal office, transfers of prelates and alienations, popes’ depositions), and reformatio in membris (ecclesiastical dispensations and privileges, exemptions, pastoral care and cult, laymen and monastic reform), were indeed the council’s own vision of reforms and spiritual renewal outside of the pope’s authority.223

Reintegration: One Pope

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he most remarkable fact may be that once the Schism ended with the election of Martin V on November 11, 1417, after the deposition of two popes, steps drastic enough in themselves, reintegration and social entente required a return to status quo.224 Richenthal’s chronicle painstakingly narrates the election of Oddone Colonna to the pontificate, from information gathered from first-hand sources, “the notary of the Archbishop of Gnesen, who was with him in the conclave.”225 The conclave initiated on November 8, and by the 10th, a new pope had not been elected. Steps did not run as smoothly as expected. A majority of two-thirds of the twenty-three cardinals present, and two-thirds of the five nations (thirty ecclesiastics, that is, six representatives each from France, England, Germany, Italy, and Spain) was difficult to reach. Consensus was only achieved when “national” interests subsided in the name of concord and harmony. The conclave finally agreed on Oddone Colonna. Once the Schism ended with his elevation, the papacy could only project and aim for what it had attempted for centuries, political domination. It took a few decades to reach its goal, but thus was born the Papal Prince.226

Provvidente, “Hus’s Trial in Constance,” 288. See Stump, The Reforms of the Council of Constance (1414–1418). 224 On Martin V, see Elizabeth M. McCahill, Reviving the Eternal City: Rome and the Papal Court, 1420–1447 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2013). 225 See Council of Constance, 165. The chronicle details the conclave’s preparations and the election, see 157–73. 226 See Paolo Prodi, Il Sovrano Pontefice: Un corpo e due anime. La monarchia papale nella prima età moderna (Bologna: il Mulino, 1982). 222 223

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2 Performing the Papacy, Performing the Schism

the aim of this chapter to analyze select moments in the history of the papacy to tease out what they can teach us about the conceptualization and performance of papacy. The Schism, a crisis of governance that pitted two, and even three so-called legitimate pontiffs against each other, offers a prime field of study on the performance of papacy. The multiplication of popes exaggerated papal behavior more than altered it. Instead of having one set of behaviors characterizing legitimacy, the schism offered two, and even three (after Pisa), all running concurrently. This multiplication clarified and delineated expectations. As obediences searched for “best practices” that would demote their competitors, they made apparent concepts and practices that were previously understood implicitly. The following pages will contribute to the discussions initiated by the few historians who adopted the “cultural turn” in their analyses of the Schismatic papacy, though they did not specifically focus on the question of papal performance.1 This investigation will spotlight how administrative behavior, the granting of bulls, performed papal authority; how the founding of liturgical feast-days belonged to the panoply of legitimating performances; and how popes used the granting of the Golden Rose to assert and legitimate their papal authority. This widely cast net emphasizes the variety of both implicit and explicit papal performances. The response to these performances will be covered in Chapter 3.

I

1

T IS

See, for example, Monique Maillard-Luypaert, Papauté, clercs et laïcs: Le diocèse de Cambrai à l’épreuve du grand schisme d’Occident (1378–1417) (Bruxelles: Presses de l’Université Saint-Louis, 2001); Joëlle Rollo-Koster, “The Politics of Body Parts: Contested Topographies in Late Medieval Avignon,” Speculum: A Journal of Medieval Studies 78 (2003): 66–98; Renate Blumenfeld-Kosinski, Poets, Saints, and Visionaries of the Great Schism, 1378–1417 (University Park: Penn State University Press, 2006); Hélène Millet, L’Église du Grand Schisme 1378–1417 (Paris: Picard, 2009); and Laura Ackerman Smoller, The Saint and the Chopped-Up Baby: The Cult of Vincent Ferrer in Medieval and Early Modern Europe (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2014). It is notable that the standard analysis of the schism, Noël Valois, La France et le grand Schisme d’Occident, 4 vols. (Paris: Picard, 1896–1902), although dated, offers enough detail to make it an institutional and socio-cultural history.

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70 l performing the papacy, performing the schism According to a widely distributed biography drafted by a contemporary, Pope Clement VI (1342–1352) once said, “our predecessors did not know how to be popes” (Predecessores nostri nesciverunt esse papa).2 The maxim may be apocryphal, and yet it remains laden with meaning. As pope, Clement was aware of his performativity, and of course had an understanding of how he was supposed to successfully perform “papacy.” In addition, the statement proves that the public held certain expectations of a “papal performance.” If expectations were put on popes to behave as popes, historians can then try to elucidate what popes and audiences considered a “performance of the papacy.” Aware that the next statement may sound utterly anachronistic, it could be argued that nobody in today’s pop culture epitomizes the performativity of the papacy better than Paolo Sorrentino’s Pius XIII from the series The Young Pope (2017) and The New Pope (2019). While the entire series is articulated around papal performance – Lenny Belardo’s own, and what is expected of him, miracles included – I would like to underscore his utter control of papal performance. Consider the way he manages all marketing products coming from the Vatican, including himself – implying that the pope is a marketing tool, to the great disappointment of his marketing director, Cécile de France’s Sofia. He rarefies Vatican products and argues that the pope should not be seen. Pius commodifies the papacy.3 But when he performs papacy, it is as a pontiff in all his glory. The pope’s dressing scene in episode 5, to the soundtrack of LMFAO’s “I’m sexy and I know it,” underscores the pope’s control of the fascination people have had with the papacy for centuries. As layers of magnificent liturgical garments pile over the young pope’s body, the aura of his office forms around the man with sharp clarity. Wearing garments that an Innocent III or Boniface VIII would have approved of, the pope sheds the awe and mystery of his office. To accentuate the relevance with the medieval papacy even more so, the dressing ends with the donning of Boniface VIII’s conical triple tiara, the so-called regnum, symbol of the universality of pontifical power, dominium over the world, and sacerdotal sovereignty.4 The epitome of human frailty, the chain-smoking-American Lenny, performs Pius XIII to perfection. Maybe the genius of Paolo Sorrentino is to have delineated the deep cultural continuity between the modern Pius and his medieval forefathers. The historical papacy constructed itself on performance. In any case, if popes needed to fulfill the expectations of their office, vis-à-vis themselves, their own institution, and the secular world, the stakes were raised higher when they had to additionally perform for a rival obedience. A study of the Great Western Schism leads us to an examination of how popes understood and practiced legitimating politics, hence performing papacy in the Middle Ages.5 It will be the aim of this chapter to examine how the papacy “performed” in general – and what the institution understood it had to do to “perform” papacy. Evidence will be drawn from a wide

2

Baluze, Vitae, 1: 298. On the pope as influencer in general, see Eric Thurm’s article at Vice.com, www.vice.com/en_us/ article/akwg98/hbo-the-new-pope-review-essay (accessed on February 22, 2021). 4 Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, Boniface VIII: Un pape hérétique? (Paris: Éditions Payot & Rivages: 2003), 243. 5 This is what Philippe Buc terms “the anthropology native to the European Middle Ages.” Philippe Buc, “The Monster and the Critics: A Ritual Reply,” Early Medieval Europe 15 (2007): 441. 3

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Performing the Papacy, Performing the Schism k 71 chronology, but the Great Western Schism will be emphasized. The displays of papal performances were never more obvious than when two popes rivaled against each other. Moreover, performance constructed legitimacy. For example, to deconstruct Urban VI’s legitimacy, contemporary authors used terms like “usurper” (intrusus), but also described his un-papal behaviors.6 A contemporary of the Schism describes Urban VI as a usurper who “traveled (rode) like a fool, without a cross or the Host preceding him, and without any of the cardinals, and went to Tivoli.”7 No legitimate papal cortege would have stooped to such ceremonial inadequacy; only a false pope who did not know what he was doing could travel this way. The insult teaches us that a traveling pope performed his office with a decent cortege. Anything else lowered his position. In addition to liturgy, formalities led by popes, corteges, and processions, such as the papal “adventus” or the reception of dignitaries, offered countless evidence of papal performances.8 Popes went with the natural flow of their office, leading ceremonies spiritually and physically. But popes also deployed a wide range of liturgical performances while attempting to enforce their political authority. Because the medieval “religious” was never far from the medieval “political,” it becomes difficult to discern where one began and the other ended. Historians of the medieval papacy have recently focused on the papacy’s autorepresentation, usually within the context of images and sculpture, but not performance. For example, Agostino Paravicini Bagliani investigates Boniface VIII’s construction of his own representation and images; and Étienne Anheim analyzes Clement VI’s taste for “appearance,” his politic of representations (politique de la représentation).9 Note that both popes were excoriated by contemporaries for their politics, and it can be assumed that they understood that following a strategy focused on performance could legitimate them. Historians continue to discuss a politicization of the religious and a “sacramentalization” of the political during the Middle Ages.10 But most of all, the liturgical became the backbone of the political.

6

See Chapter 4 for a discussion of the use of intrusus in contemporary texts. “Et videns dictus intrusus sic omnes cardinales recessisse, exivit Romam et die xxvj junii equitavit quasi stultus sine cruce precedente et sine corpore Christi et sine ullo cardinali, et ivit ad unam civitatem que vocatur Tiburis.” Baluze, Vitae, 1: 448. 8 One of the best discussions of medieval processions in all their facets is Kathleen Ashley and Wim Hüsken, Moving Subjects: Processional Performance in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2001). Processions were ubiquitous, usually public, and mostly religious. Even mundane, familial, political, and carnivalesque events copied or inverted the religious. They produced “meta-messages” of meaning and reflected, negotiated, or created social experiences. Their routes defined spaces of sanctity and power. Placement within a procession identified one’s status and relationships, gender relations included. 9 Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, Boniface VIII (Paris: Payot, 2003), Étienne Anheim, Clément VI au travail: Lire, écrire, prêcher au XIVe siècle (Paris: Publications de la Sorbonne, 2014). See also Martin Büchsel and Peter Schmidt, Das Porträt Vor Der Erfindung Des Porträts (Mainz am Rhein: P. von Zabern, 2003); Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, Il potere del papa: Corporeità, autorappresentazione, simboli (Florence: Sismel Edizioni del Galluzzo, 2009); Dominic Olariu, ed., Le portrait individuel: Réflexions autour d’une forme de représentation, XIIIe–XVe siècles (Bern: Peter Lang, 2009); Claudia D’Alberto, Roma al tempo di Avignone: Sculture nel contest (Roma: Campisano, 2013). 10 For a discussion of the topic, see Patrick Boucheron, “Religion civique, religion civile, religion séculière: L’ombre d’un doute,” Revue de Synthèse 134, no. 2 (2013): 161–83. 7

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72 l performing the papacy, performing the schism No example is more dramatic perhaps than the so-called humiliation of Holy Roman Emperor Henry IV at the hands of Pope Gregory VII at Canossa during the Investiture Controversy – an act at once liturgical and political. According to Gregory’s letter, To the German Princes, Giving an Account of Canossa (end of January 1077), Gregory orchestrated a showdown between papacy and empire. The pope states: We have taken special care to send you this accurate account of the king’s penitential humiliation, his absolution, and the course of the whole affair from his entrance into Italy to the present time . . .. Meanwhile we received certain information that the king was on the way to us. Before he entered Italy he sent us word that he would make satisfaction to God and St. Peter and offered to amend his way of life and to continue obedient to us, provided only that he should obtain from us absolution and the apostolic blessing. For a long time we delayed our reply and held long consultations, reproaching him bitterly through messengers back and forth for his outrageous conduct, until finally, of his own accord and without any show of hostility or defiance, he came with a few followers to the fortress of Canossa where we were staying. There, on three successive days, standing before the castle gate, laying aside all royal insignia, barefooted and in coarse attire, he ceased not with many tears to beseech the apostolic help and comfort until all who were present or who had heard the story were so moved by pity and compassion that they pleaded his cause with prayers and tears. All marveled at our unwonted severity, and some even cried out that we were showing, not the seriousness of apostolic authority, but rather the cruelty of a savage tyrant. At last, overcome by his persistent show of penitence and the urgency of all present, we released him from the bonds of anathema and received him into the grace of Holy Mother Church.11

The passage is telling at several levels. First, we can note how the liturgical “penitential humiliation” was highly political and politicized. We can also appreciate how the pope frames the episode sensually. Gregory makes his tale compelling and physical: sight, hearing, and touch are all present. The sight of Henry in abject condition, freezing in the snow; the reading of messages and the exchange of words between messengers; cold bodies touching snow, warm tears flowing on cold cheeks; all combine to offer a vivid retelling. And, implied, even if absent from Gregory’s tale, taste also finds its place in the narrative. One can taste the bitterness of defeat in Henry’s mouth and a palatable pleasure in Gregory’s. Playing with our senses, the pope dramatizes to compel. This is one way to perform. Language and all papal utterances are but one example of papal liturgical political performances. It is also propaganda, of course, and as seen in the above example, the language of sensory perception and propaganda can be effectively intertwined. We will never know if the events truly unraveled as described. Gregory’s words, here framed within the liturgical landscape of an excommunication, dominate the panoply of performing

11

Patrick Geary, Readings in Medieval History, 5th ed. (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2016), 516. See also, Karl F. Morrison, “Canossa: A Revision,” Traditio 18 (1962): 121–48. On the Investiture Controversy, see Uta-Renate Blumenthal, The Investiture Controversy: Church and Monarchy from the Ninth to the Twelfth Century (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1988).

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Performing Administratively k 73 behavior. They are intended to demonstrate the utter submission of the Holy Roman emperor to the pope. Adding theatrical gestures to words can increase performative effectiveness. To use the same example of excommunication, one can imagine the physical violence of Gregory IX’s excommunicating “curse,” while violently throwing candles to the ground, directed at another Holy Roman emperor, this time Frederick II. The theatrics are emphasized by Georgio Vasari’s rendering on the walls of the Sala Regia at the Vatican (circa 1572–1573).12 The aptly named regal room reminded princely visitors of their place in the ecclesiastical scheme of things. Performances, however, need not be utterly explicit and theatrical. Implicit modes of displaying authority and legitimacy may be found in the mundane, for example, in paperwork and administration.

Performing Administratively: Bullae

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he following section will argue that Bullae not only displayed papal legitimacy, they performed for the papacy. They may even have reached the talismanic quality of objects like the Agnus Dei that popes distributed or sent for Easter. In a 1362 letter to John V Paleologus, Pope Urban V attributed Agni protective qualities, “Balm and pure wax with the water of chrism made the Agnus, that I give you as a great gift. Born from a spring, mystically sanctified, it destroys ghosts and any malice, helps pregnant women in childbirth, if carried with purity, it protects from the waves, shatters sin and suffering with Christ’s blood.”13 As we will see, bulls may have carried the same protective, apotropaic, qualities. The following will argue that the physical presence of bulls on or near Christian bodies benefited both papacy and holders. This chapter will leave aside another performative aspect of papal bulls, which while connected, remains outside the scope of this study: Highly ornamented and illuminated bulls, bestowing indulgences for the visit of special locales, which were usually displayed on church doors throughout Europe. Their exposition brought traffic to the locale, advertising salvation, so to speak, as well as sanctity and renown to their holders and visitors.14

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13

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On the ritual of excommunication, see, among many, Elisabeth Vodola, Excommunication in the Middle Ages (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1986); Lester K. Little, Benedictine Maledictions: Liturgical Cursing in Romanesque France (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1993); Leo Carruthers, “The Great Curse: Excommunication, Canon Law and the Judicial System in Late Medieval Society, through the Eyes of an English Preacher,” Caliban 29 (2011): 45–60; Christian Jaser, Ecclesia maledicens: Rituelle und zeremonielle Exkommunikationsformen im Mittelalter (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013); and “Ritual Excommunication: An ‘Ars Oblivionalis’?” in Memory and Commemoration in Medieval Culture, ed. Elma Brenner, Mary Franklin-Brown, and Meredith Cohen (Burlington: Ashgate, 2013), 119–39. See Sergio Bertelli, The King’s Body, trans. R. Burr Litchfield (University Park: Penn State University Press, 2001), 136. For the most recent discussion, see Marek Walczak, “The Portrait Miniature of Cardinal Zbigniew Oleśnicki on a Letter of Indulgence Issued in 1449 for the Church of All Saints in Cracow,” Journal of Art Historiography 17 (2017): 1–23; Pierre François Fournier, “Affiches d’indulgence manuscrites et imprimées des XIVe, XVe et XVIe siècles,” Bibliothèque de l’École des Chartes 84 (1923): 116–60; Nikolaus Paulus, Der Ablaß im Mittelalter als Kulturfaktor (Köln: Bachem, 1920).

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74 l performing the papacy, performing the schism Chancery production expanded over time, but there is no doubt that the bureaucratization of the church began well before the Schism.15 According to the editors of the database of papal letters Ut per litteras apostolicas that publishes the records of the Avignon papacy online, a minimum of 206,516 letters were dispatched by the apostolic chancery in Avignon between 1305 and 1378. The numbers are staggering when compared to the preceding century, which can claim only 48,044 documents.16 And, though the twelfth century is often put forward as a benchmark, bureaucracy grew well before that century. It is traditionally accepted that the curia benefited from the Imperial Roman and Byzantine models, and by the ninth century it produced and kept records and held financial and legal powers.17 In his chapter on the expansion of papal authority, Bernhard Schimmelpfennig links the growth of authority with administrative expansion and discusses the “avalanche of legal proceedings” that marked growing papal prestige between 1194 and 1198.18 Discussing papal visits in Viterbo at the time of Innocent III (1198–1216), Brenda Bolton insists that most petitioners were required to actually travel and appear in person at the papal court. This required a stable court, and one may attach the stability of a court to its growing centralization and administration.19 A stable administration did not require the physical presence of its ruler; objectively, it was to continue administering in his absence. A perusal of the papal letters shows that the chancery started preserving records from the mid-twelfth century on, and thereon dated letters usually from its specific location, regardless of the pope’s actual presence in that location.20 Records became abundant with the move of the papacy to Avignon and afterward.21 Discussing Anglo-Papal relations,

15

Richard William Southern, The Making of the Middle Ages (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1953), 118–54, makes the “machinery” of papal governance one of the themes of its chapter on “The ordering of Christian Life.” For the most recent discussion of this growth, see Hélène Millet, ed., Suppliques et requêtes: Le gouvernement par la grâce en Occident (XIIe–XVe siècle) (Rome: École française de Rome, 2003); Jochen Johrendt and Harald Müller, eds., Römisches Zentrum und kirchliche Peripherie. Das universale Papsttum als Bezugspunkt der Kirchen von den Reformpäpsten bis zu Innocenz III (New York: De Gruyter, 2008); Mark Ormrod, Gwilym Dodd, and Anthony Musson, Medieval Petitions: Grace and Grievance (Woodbridge: York Medieval Press, 2009), especially Barbari Bombi and Patrick Zutschi’s chapters; and Keith Sisson and Atria A. Larson, A Companion to the Medieval Papacy: Growth of an Ideology and Institution (Leiden: Brill, 2016), with various essays on the administration (legates, delegates, apostolic chamber, chancery, penitentiary, and Rota). 16 See Ut per litteras apostolicas: Les lettres pontificales/papal letters (Rome: École française de Rome, 2011; Turnhout: Brepols, 2004). 17 Barbara Bombi, Anglo-Papal Relations in the Early Fourteenth Century: A Study in Medieval Diplomacy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2019), 16; and Pierre Toubert, “Scrinium et Palatium: La formation de la bureaucratie romano-pontificale aux VIII–IX siècles,” in Roma nell’alto medioevo: Settimane di studio: Spoleto, Centro Italiano di Studi sull’alto Medioevo, 27 Aprile–1 Maggio 2000 (Spoleto: Presso la sede del Centro, 2001), 57–117. 18 Bernhard Schimmelpfennig, The Papacy (New York: Columbia University Press, 1992), 159. 19 Brenda Bolton, “A New Rome in a Small Place?,” in Rome across Time and Space: Cultural Transmission and the Exchange of Ideas, c. 500–1400 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 305–22. 20 Bolton, “A New Rome in a Small Place?,” 317; and Ut per litteras apostolicas. 21 See Patrick Zutschi, “Petitions to the Pope in the Fourteenth Century,” in Medieval Petitions: Grace and Grievance, ed. Mark Ormrod, Gwilym Dodd, and Anthony Musson (Woodbridge: York Medieval Press, 2009), 82–98.

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Performing Administratively k 75 Barbara Bombi, like many other historians, identifies the role chanceries played in the preservation and consolidation of authority, and most specifically during the fourteenth century, in the Avignon papacy.22 It has been estimated that, between 1305 and 1378, the Apostolic Chancery produced some 300,000 documents and that by the end of the fourteenth century, that number increased to about 500,000.23 It is highly possible that between the eleventh and sixteenth centuries, millions of letters were distributed.24 Most letters, indulgences, decrees, briefs, nominations, granting of benefices, and more, were authenticated with a bull, a leaden seal, which by the time of the Schism usually represented Peter (with his curly beard) and Paul (with his pointy one), on one face, and the name and number of the issuing pope, on the other. The seal would be tied to the parchment with a yellow or red ribbon, or with hemp.25 Each pope had a leaden bull to his name that authenticated his acts. This leaden bull was totally distinct from the hundreds of wax seals used by any religious or lay dignitaries holding a legal signature. The following argues that the granting of these letters, usually the result of a petition, took on quasi-ritualistic characteristics and reinforced papal legitimacy and authority, something that was ultimately important during the Schism. If the brunt of papal correspondence displayed effectiveness in governance, authority, and legitimacy, it also performed sensually and added a physical trace to the alliance between the institution and its faithful. Nothing represents the bond between pope, institution, and men like people safeguarding and peddling papal bulls, or being buried with them. Students of modern bureaucratic institutions have frequently referred to “organizations” as “culture-producing phenomena: in addition to goods and services, ‘they also produce distinctive cultural artefacts such as rituals, legends, and ceremonies.’”26 Yet no 22

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Barbara Bombi reviews the historiography of administrative centralization, literacy, and political power, in Anglo-Papal Relations in the Early Fourteenth Century, especially 16–19. See also some of the École française de Rome’s volumes, Armand Jamme, and Olivier Poncet, Offices et papauté (XIVe–XVIIe s.): Charges, hommes, destins (Rome: Publications de l’École française de Rome, 2005); and Offices, écrits et papauté (XIIIe–XVIIe siècles) (Rome: Publications de l’École française de Rome, 2007). See also Armand Jamme, Le souverain, l’office et le codex: Gouvernement de la cour et techniques documentaires à travers les Libri officiariorum des papes d’Avignon (XIV–XVe s.) (Rome: Publications de l’École française de Rome, 2014). Irena Sulkowska-Kuras and Slanislaw Kuras, “Suppliques, brouillons, lettres et registres de la Chancellerie apostoloque relatifs à la Pologne à l’époque d’Avignon (1305–1378),” Mélanges de l’École française de Rome, moyen-âge-temps modernes 96, no. 2 (1984): 721. See also Michael Tangl, Die päpstlichen Kanzleiordnungen von 1200–1500 (Innsbruck: Wagner, 1894). Jörg Ansorge, “Vier Bleibullen von Papst Bonifatius IX (1389–1404) aus der Hansestadt Greifswald,” Bodendenkmalpflege in Mecklenburg-Vorpommern Jahrbuch 2005 53 (2006), 306. Although dated, the entry in the Catholic Encyclopedia is still thorough and valuable. See Herbert Thurston, “Bulls and Briefs,” The Catholic Encyclopedia, 15 vols. (New York: Appleton, 1907–12), vol. 3, at www.newadvent.org/cathen/03052b.htm (accessed on February 22, 2021). Eugenie Samier, “Administrative Ritual and Ceremony: Social Aesthetics, Myth and Language Use in the Rituals of Everyday Organizational Life,” Educational Management Administration Leadership 25 (1997): 419, where she quotes Linda Smircich, “Concepts of Culture and Organizational Analysis,” Administrative Science Quarterly 28 (1983): 339–58. On the topic of modern administrative rituals, see Charles T. Goodsell, “Administration as Ritual,” Public Administration Review 49 (1989): 161–66; and Patricia Keehley, “A Response to Charles T. Goodsell,” International Journal of Public Administration 20 (1997): 963–66.

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76 l performing the papacy, performing the schism historian of medieval administrations has clearly linked organizations to forms of ritualization and legitimacy, though individuals at the time understood this ritualistic character quite well. Patrick Zutshi, in a recent article, used Petrarch’s words, “Inextricabilis curie labyrinthus,” in his title.27 Petrarch was familiar with the Avignonese curia and what he labeled its “inextricable labyrinth of the curia.” Certainly, his labyrinth characterized what he considered the corruption and moral confusion of the court, but also for our argument, the complexity and challenging nature of a petitioner’s effort.28 Avignon was not Petrarch’s Babylon on the Rhône, but for its critics it represented such legendary corruption.29 While Teresa Caligiure insists on the bestial quality of Petrarch’s Avignon, finding in his writings references to Orpheus, the Minotaur, and unbridled lust – note the unnamed sensorial aspects, the circular networks of the curial maze resembling not only labyrinths but medieval representations of the city of Babylon – we can expect that petitioners navigated this labyrinth as a rite of passage that delivered the elusive goal of a fiat, the Holy Grail of petitioners.30 Penetrating and being successful in managing the maze of the papal administration must have been akin to Ariana’s thread, a pilgrimage or quest. It required effort and sacrifice. Traveling to the curia’s seat; identifying the who, where, and when; being adept in negotiating the administration by way of personal contacts or the hiring of curial intermediaries and proctors; and finding the necessary human and financial resources is reminiscent of the many stages of a ritualized quest, a hero’s rite of passage. Our hero/petitioner needed a certain purity of mind and behavior, resourcefulness in guile and finances, engagement, grace, obsequiousness, self-abnegation, and obedience to the many rules in order to succeed. Petitioners slayed the dragon, so to speak, to reach their fiat. This would suggest that starting before the Avignon period, which strongly developed and centralized its administration, the medieval papacy grounded its authority in a ritualized bureaucracy that became as necessary to Christians as the sacraments. In a discussion of the Apostolic Chancery in Avignon, I observed: The Chancery, charged with the publication of papal records, already existed in the thirteenth century, but its procedure was reorganized and extended by John XXII in 1331. The Chancery also dealt with the two forms of letters: the secret letters, regarding political and administrative business, also called curial letters; and the communal letters, sent to individual petitioners who requested waivers for movable altars, masses before dawn, absolutions, marriages within prohibited degrees of consanguinity, or benefices. Most documents, if not every single step in a document’s production and delivery, 27

28 29

30

Patrick N. R. Zutshi, “‘Inextricabilis curie labyrinthus’: The Presentation of Petitions to the Pope in the Chancery and the Penitentiary during the Fourteenth and First Half of the Fifteenth Century,” in Päpste, Pilger, Pönitentiarie: Festschrift für Ludwig Schmugge zum 65. Geburtstag, ed. Andreas Meyer (Tübingen: De Gruyter, 2004), 393–410. Petrarch, Le Familiari, ed. Vittorio Rossi, 4 vols. (Florence: Sansoni, 1933–1942), 3: 112. See Robert Coogan, Babylon on the Rhone: A Translation of Letters by Dante, Petrarch, and Catherine of Siena on the Avignon Papacy (Madrid: José Porrúa Turanzas, 1983). Background on the term “Babylonian captivity” is offered in Chapter 7. Teresa Caligiure, “Inextricabile ergastulum: Il tema del labirinto nelle ‘epystole’ di Petrarca,” Petrarchesca Rivista internazionale 1 (2013), 103–4.

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Performing Administratively k 77 required a fee that went to papal coffers. Hence, the rise of the Chancery is also linked to the growing monetization of the Avignon papacy. In the large majority of cases, documents were produced to respond to petitions. First, the requests were referred to the pope by the referendarius (referee), who suggested an answer (his fiat of approval). The petition was then registered, and the answer briefed and sketched out in the form of minutes (abstracts) prepared by abbreviators. Once corrected, the abstracts were passed to scribes who “engrossed,” or developed, them in longer form. The abstracts were then checked by correctors, who reviewed their form and content, making sure that the response matched the petition. The final documents were then sealed by bullatores (the bulla was the pope’s metal seal), registered by registrars, and indexed (with a synopsis of the letter’s content) for the rubrics that headed the registers where they were recorded. It should be noted that the bullatores were all illiterate Cistercians from the Abbey of Fontfroide in the diocese of Narbonne. Their illiteracy safeguarded and prevented the dissemination of private material.31

Like ritual practice, administrative practice hid certain truths, while it also structured time and space.32 The papacy performed its authority through its administration. Petitioning the pope required funding, meetings, travels (thus danger), and extensive networks of support, ranging from notaries to envoys, as well as proctors – the latter were essential professional mediators and nothing would move without them.33 Petitions were an

31

32

33

See Joëlle Rollo-Koster, Avignon and Its Papacy (1309–1417): Popes, Institutions, and Society (Lanham: Rowman and Littlefield, 2015), 149–88, for a summary description of the papal administration and 165–66, for the Chancery. See also Aux origines de l’état moderne, le fonctionnement administratif de la papauté d’Avignon: Actes de la table ronde organisée par l’École française de Rome, Avignon, 23–24 janvier 1988. Collection de l’École française de Rome, 138 (Rome: École française de Rome, 1990). It is of note that petitioning could also be directed to the Apostolic Penitentiary, but documents in that case were only classified and archived at the Vatican after 1409. Interestingly, the Penitentiary organized petitions around the same classification as Avignon’s papal letters, with categories of cases ranging from de matrimonialibus, de defectu natalium to de confessionalibus. See Kirsi Salonen and Ludwig Schmugge, A Sip from the “Well of Grace”: Medieval Texts from the Apostolic Penitentiary (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 2009), 13–17. Lars Hermanson, “Introduction,” in Rituals, Performatives, and Political Order in Northern Europe, c. 650–1350, ed. Wojtek Jezierski, Lars Hermanson, Hans Jacob Orning, and Thomas Småberg (Turnhout: Brepols, 2015), 8, discusses the reinforcement of legitimacy through ritual’s structuring of time and space. Regarding proctors, see, for the most recent, Richard H. Helmholz, The Profession of Ecclesiastical Lawyers: An Historical Introduction (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2019), 7–38; James A. Brundage, The Medieval Origins of the Legal Profession: Canonists, Civilians, and Courts (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2008); Patrick N. R. Zutshi, “Petitioners, Popes, Proctors: The Development of Curial Institutions, c. 1150–1250,” in Pensiero e sperimentazioni istituzionali nella societas Christiana (1046–1250): Atti della sedicesima Settimana internazionale di studio, Mendola, 26–31 agosto 2004, ed. Giancarlo Andenna (Milan: Vita e Pensiero, 2007), 265–93; Jane E. Sayers, Law and Records in Medieval England: Studies on the Medieval Papacy, Monasteries and Records (London: Variorum Reprints, 1988); Patrick N. R. Zutshi, “Proctors Acting for English Petitioners in the Chancery of the Avignon Popes (1305–1378),” The Journal of Ecclesiastical History 35 (1984): 15–29; Vernon F. Snow, “The Evolution of Proctorial Representation in Medieval England,” The American Journal of Legal History 7 no. 4 (1963): 319–39; and Roscoe Pound, “Legal Profession in the Middle Ages,” Notre Dame Law Review 19, no. 3 (1944): 229–44.

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78 l performing the papacy, performing the schism expensive and labor-intensive process, for an uncertain result.34 As Patrick Zutshi ponders why people did it, he answers his own question by suggesting the pope’s monopoly on certain spiritual/temporal favors. And while he leaves the topic aside, this monopoly remains essential in our understanding of the ecclesiastical administration. Papal administration was political and mundane, but born from the religious and sacred, it retained its liturgical, ritualized aspects. Apostolic sealed letters granted agency, authority, and legitimacy to both benefactor and recipient. Their production was in itself a ritualized process. The required professional steps were reserved to an enlightened elite. These steps were repeated, solemn, regulated, and scripted: they were ritualized. This bureaucratization replicated miniature rites of passage at each hurdle jumped. Petitions were approved or rejected, registered, briefed, engrossed, corrected, and finally sealed.35 Petitioners had to somewhat fear this arcane bureaucracy that “performed” authority by putting petitioners through the gauntlet of accessing the right offices in the right sequence and paying the right series of fees that it imposed. The “opacity” of these fees also ritualized the process by making them accessible only with difficulty. In the case of the late medieval penitentiary, Wolfgang P. Müller qualifies these fees as “an intricate web of numbers and calculations.”36 Language and formulae, essential in liturgy, found similar importance in papal administration and its rhetorical tools. Artes Dictandi manuals (or cursus curie Romane) instructed Chancery officials and petitioners in the formulation of effective letters in rhythmic fashion.37 These letters were actually performed. The line demarcating pandering from supplicating was ill-defined, and one moved easily from one to the other. Discussing a clerk’s petition to his bishop for advancement, Ian Cornelius states, “It will be noticed that the reorientation from matters of professional advancement to matters of eternal salvation occurs only by presenting salvation as the greatest of all promotions. More importantly, the easy transition from the one to the other implies that the clerk’s initial request, while worldly, is not mundane.”38 Noël Denholm-Young reminds us that, in the Middle Ages, all reading was done aloud, and the aim was to “capture the ear of the listener.”39 One can add that this was quite similar to a prayer. 34

35

36

37

38 39

For quick but thorough surveys, see Barbara Bombi, “Petitioning between England and Avignon in the First Half of the Fourteenth Century,” in Medieval Petitions: Grace and Grievance, ed. Mark Ormrod, Gwilym Dodd, and Anthony Musson (Woodbridge: York Medieval Press, 2009), 64–81; and Patrick Zutshi, “Petitions to the Pope in the Fourteenth Century,” in Medieval Petitions: Grace and Grievance, ed. Mark Ormrod, Gwilym Dodd, and Anthony Musson (Woodbridge: York Medieval Press, 2009), 82–98. We are not far from behavior described by Geoffrey Koziol, Begging Pardon and Favor: Ritual and Political Order in Early Medieval France (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1992). Wolfgang P. Müller, “The Price of Papal Pardon: New Fifteenth-Century Evidence,” in Päpste, Pilger, Pönitentiarie: Festschrift für Ludwig Schmugge zum 65. Geburstag, ed. Andreas Meyer, Constance Rendtel, and Maria Wittmer-Butsch (Tübingen: De Gruyter, 2004), 459. The topic is huge and out of my scope. Martin Camargo, Ars Dictaminis, Ars Dictandi (Turnhout: Brepols, 1991) is essential reading. A recent bibliography can be found in Laurie Shepard, Courting Power: Persuasion and Politics in the Early Thirteenth Century (New York: Garland, 1999); and Ian Cornelius, “The Rhetoric of Advancement: Ars dictaminis, Cursus, and Clerical Careerism in Late Medieval England,” New Medieval Literatures 12 (2010): 289–330. Cornelius, “The Rhetoric of Advancement,” 290. Noël Denholm-Young, Collected Papers of N. Denholm-Young: Cultural, Textual and Biographical Essays on Medieval Topics (Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 1969), 60.

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Performing Administratively k 79 Denholm-Young further argues that in the Middle Ages nothing separated written from spoken words, “the rhythm of a letter did not differ from that of a speech,” which made cursus popular with anyone writing.40 We can expect that, like speech and liturgy, reading a petition may have had a certain cantorial musicality to it. Administrative and liturgical practices mirrored each other. The act of “reciting” a petition was not that different from uttering a prayer. Each needed to follow style and wording to succeed. For administrative practice, scribes copied letters in the stylus curie Romane found in formularies (writing guides).41 For example, a petition always started with a Supplicat Sanctitati Vestre followed by the name of the petitioner. Similarly, a papal bull always started with an Ad perpetuam rei memoriam, and the Lord’s Prayers with a Credo.42 In addition, referendaries or cubicularii traditionally read petitions out loud to the pope, a form of ritualized declamation. Once the papal fiat was received, speech became reified with the et quod transeat sine alia lectione clause that preceded further oral papal approval in the petition’s granting process.43 This fiat initiated several recording steps that were all marked by specific symbols inscribed on final documents. They were sealed with the leaden bulla and initialed with the names of the officials who had participated in its production (abbreviators, etc.). The dorse (back) of the petition was marked with the “R” of registration.44 Thus, the petitioning process was performed and ritualized through behaviors attached to petitioning, final granting, and document formatting. The final product was marked with symbols – involving naming and memorialization, which recalled its somewhat sacred qualities, if only the pope’s name and signature.45 In his discussion of petitioning the Chancery and Penitentiary during the late Middle Ages, Patrick Zutschi offers an example of the difficulties encountered when seeking papal graces. In 1382, the monks of St. Alban petitioned Urban VI to waive their servicia communia (a tax paid to the chamber by recently nominated bishops and abbots when appointed and confirmed). Urban approved with a fiat B[artholomeus]. But this response was insufficient for the scope of the request. The monks needed the special Fiat ut petitur. As former head of the chancery, Urban VI was showing his guile, knowing full well that his initial response would be deficient and would force the monks to attempt different means, attached to high expenses. In the end, the monks abandoned their quest, not sure that their efforts would be rewarded with a valid document.46 While historians can infer how petitions circulated throughout the various stages of confirmation, little is known of the original steps. How did a petition reach the initial referendary or chamberlain? This quasi-sacramentary secrecy, again, ritualized the process. When instructions about how to deliver such petitions are offered, they often allude to the control of time and space – again, evident signs of ritualization. For example, a decree of Gregory XII (1406/7) states that “whoever wants to hand in [porrigere] a petition should

40

Denholm-Young, Collected Papers, 60–61. See Bombi, “Petitioning between England and Avignon,” 72, where she links success to phrasing; and Zutshi, “Petitions to the Pope,” 86. 42 For petitions’ incipit see, Zutshi, “Petitions to the Pope,” 87. 43 Zutshi, “Petitions to the Pope,” 83, 89. 44 Zutshi, “Petitions to the Pope,” 90–93. 45 See Zutshi, “Petitions to the Pope,” 89. 46 Zutshi, “Inextricabilis curie labyrinthus,” 394–95. 41

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80 l performing the papacy, performing the schism come to the palace that will be open for them on Tuesdays at Vespers, and they all will be able to enter without difficulties.”47 The bodily movement of stretching one’s hand forward to deliver the petition (porrigere) adds a sensorial connotation to the description; but it also opens the possibility to other modes of delivery. Patrick Zutschi mentions the throwing of petitions wrapped around stones, a practice forbidden by Pope Clement VI – one could guess for its lack of decorum, if not for its danger!48 In any case, each year parchments and their attached leaden bulls were dispatched throughout Europe to thousands of successful petitioners. The initiation of the Schism did not slow down the process. Philippe Genequand, in his discussion of the rule of Clement VII, assesses the pope’s epistolary documentation as numbering thousands of documents.49 Arnold Esch finds just as many for Boniface IX and notes a clear growth in the sale of papal indulgences with a pope in constant need of resources.50 One efficient way to fill the coffers of the Roman obedience was to generously distribute plenary indulgences for remission of sins.51 Aware of such abuses, Pope Boniface IX, in December 1403, annulled his and all bulls containing the words plena indulgentia omnium peccatorum suorum and ad instar, while Martin V, upon his election, showed the same willingness to rein in their allocation.52 But the accelerated growth of bureaucratic production was not solely directed at indulgences; it covered all aspects of papal governance. This could explain why metal detector aficionados throughout Europe have unearthed a large quantity of leaden seals, common enough today to be sold on eBay. This ubiquity should make us pause. Firstly, for the past twenty years, medieval historians have attempted to clarify what they label the “semiotics of diplomas.”53 If not called so, diplomas were a tool and a means for political performances. Diplomas legitimated the individual and his function. Peter Rück Zutshi, “Inextricabilis curie labyrinthus,” 402. Zutshi, “Inextricabilis curie labyrinthus,” 402; and “Petitions to the Pope,” 98, where he edits Clement’s “constitution.” 49 Philippe Genequand, “L’organisation et la politique de la cour pontificale d’Avignon sous Clément VII (1378–1394) à partir des documents comptables et des lettres,” PhD dissertation, 2 vols., Université de Genève, 2003, 1: 56–99, for a thorough discussion of his sources. 50 Arnold Esch, Bonifaz IX. und der Kirchenstaat (Tübingen: Niemeyer, 1969); and Arnold Esch, “I giubilei del 1390 e del 1400,” in La storia dei giubilei, ed. Jacques Le Goff, Claudio Strinato, and Gloria Fossi, 3 vols. (Rome: BNL, 1997–99), 1: 294. See also Hélène Millet, “Le grand pardon du pape (1390) et celui de l’année sainte (1400),” in L’Église du Grand Schisme: 1378–1417, ed. Hélène Millet (Paris: Picard, 2009), 255–56. 51 Robert Norman Swanson, Indulgences in Late Medieval England: Passports to Paradise (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 31, 301. 52 The text reads: “Our Lord Pope will avoid the excessive issue of indulgences in future, lest they become demeaned; and he revokes and annuls all perpetual indulgences conceded since the death of Gregory XI; also those which are described as being de poena et culpa, or of full remission, conceded to places; also all those granted on the model (ad instar) of another indulgence.” Diane Webb, “Pardon and Pilgrims,” in Promissory Notes on the Treasury of Merits: Indulgences in Late Medieval Europe, ed. Robert Norman Swanson (Leiden: Brill, 2005), 263–64. 53 See a detail of this historiography in Geoffrey Koziol, “Making Boso the Clown: Performance and Performativity in a Pseudo-Diploma of the Renegade King (8 December 879),” in Rituals, Performatives, and Political Order in Northern Europe, c. 650–1350, ed. Wojtek Jezierski, Lars Hermanson, Hans Jacob Orning, and Thomas Småberg (Turnhout: Brepols, 2015), 44–45. See also Marco Mostert and P. S. Barnwell, Medieval Legal Process: Physical, Spoken and Written Performance in the Middle Ages (Turnhout: Brepols, 2011). 47

48

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Performing Administratively k 81 has demonstrated how diplomas held a “plakative Funktion.” Their often-imposing sizes and attached paraphernalia conferred authority on the grantor and grantee.54 Diplomas were part of the performance of power involving giving and receiving, actors, audience, and witnesses. Deeds, diplomas, and charters were used for and reflected authority. Geoffrey Koziol cites the example of the monks of Saint Gall who, during a long dispute, presented Louis the Pious with a sealed charter from his father, which he and his attendants promptly kissed.55 Political authority rested in the parchment and transcended the death of the initial grantor. This type of research on monarchical charters has yet to be systematically replicated for papal documents.56 For now, I will limit myself to a few observations. In a recent article, Michiel H. Bartels discusses the forty or so papal bullae (seals), discovered mostly in the Netherlands either near ecclesiastic foundations, in urban pits, rural fields, or riverbeds.57 His samples are largely from the era of the Avignon papacy and Schism. His is not the sole article on the topic. Archeologists have in fact written widely about these medieval discoveries, surrounding their analyses with scientific methodologies rather than antiquarian curiosity – more so recently because of the popularity of metal detectors and resulting governmental mandates that discoveries be declared.58 A few

54

55 56

57

58

Peter Rück, “Die Urkunde als Kunstwerk,” in Kaiserin Theophanu: Begegnung des Ostens und Westens um die Wende des ersten Jahrtausends: Gedenkschrift des Kölner Schnütgen-Museums zum 1000: Todesjahr des Kaiserin, ed. Anton von Euw and Peter Schreiner, 2 vols. (Cologne: SchnütgenMuseum, 1991), 2: 313. Koziol, “Making Boso the Clown,” 46. See, for example, Judith Werner, Papsturkunden vom 9. bis ins 11. Jahrhundert: Untersuchungen zum Empfängereinfluss auf die äußere Urkundengestalt (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2017). Werner analyzes how papal documents fitted the needs of their audiences. Depending on the location of the recipients, whether Italy, Catalonia, Mainz, Cologne, Trier, Reims, Lyon or Sens, size, material, fonts, and symbols varied, regardless of the papal pull for centralization. Larger documents were, for example, usually directed to northern Europe. Michiel H. Bartels, “Papal Bullae; a Message from Above? Interpretations of the Papal Lead Seal (11th–16th c.) in Archaeological Contexts in and around the Netherlands,” in Vom Bodenfund zum Buch Archäologie durch die Zeiten: Festschrift für Andreas Heege, ed. Christoph Rinne, Jochen Reinhard, Eva Roth Heege, and Stefan Teuber (Bonn: Rudolf Habelt Verlag, 2017), 315–34. Eźlbieta Dabrowska-Zawadzka and François Comte, “Un rite funéraire peu connu: Le dépôt de bulles pontificales dans les tombes ecclésiastiques (XIVe–XVe siècle), in Bulletin de la Société Nationale des Antiquaires de France – 1993 (Paris: Société Nationale des Antiquaires de France, 1995), 209–23; Eźlbieta Dabrowska-Zawadzka, “Un ‘passeport pour l’au-delà,’ essai sur la mentalité médiévale,” in Bulletin de la Société Nationale des Antiquaires de France – 1998 (Paris: Société Nationale des Antiquaires de France, 2002), 255–62; Lukas Clemens, “Zeugen des Verlustes – Päpstliche Bulle im archäologischen Kontext,” in Kurie und Region. Festschrift für Brigide Schwarz zum 65 Geburtstag, ed. Brigitte Flug, Michael Matheus, and Andreas Rehberg (Stuttgart: Steiner, 2005), 341–57; Jörg Ansorge, “Vier Bleibullen von Papst Bonifatius IX (1389–1404) aus der Hansestadt Greifswald,” Bodendenkmalpflege in Mecklenburg-Vorpommern Jahrbuch 2005–53 (2006): 289–314; Roberta Gilchrist, “Magic for the Dead? The Archaeology of Magic in Later Medieval Burials,” Medieval Archaeology 52 (2008): 119–59; Stefan Kötz, “Eine Bleibulle Papst Innozenz’ IV. Vom Paderborner Marktplatz,” Archäologie in Westfalen-Lippe (2014): 133–36; and Nicola Rogers, “Papal Bullae from Peasholme Green, York: An Insight Report,” York Archaeological Trust for Excavation and Research (2015): 1–5, available at www.yorkarchaeology.co.uk/ (accessed on February 22, 2021).

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82 l performing the papacy, performing the schism websites collecting information and pictures of the recovered bullae have surfaced, usually associated with light contextual analyses.59 Given the haphazard and random nature of the bulls’ survival, it is difficult to offer statistics, but according to the results of the articles cited above and some basic counting from existing databases, the majority of bulls found in the Netherlands and elsewhere dated from the Middle Ages. This seems logical considering the administrative growth of the period. The more bulls sent, the higher the odds of finding some. It is also highly possible that medieval people put more care in preserving bulls than their descendants. The searchable database from the British website www.Finds.org.uk lists, as of December 2019, some 463 “bulla” of which only 18 are post-medieval. The numbers vary daily, as new findings are added and identified. The database allows the calculation of the following very simple statistics. Again, this is a somewhat incoherent sample because bullae are (1) found randomly and (2) are sometimes inaccurately identified on the website. For example, all bulls identified with Clement VII have been classified with the early modern Clement VII (1523–1534). Looking at the pictures of the bulls, it is possible to suggest that they should be identified and assigned to Clement VII of the Schism, if simply because the large majority of bulls discovered come from the Middle Ages. I assigned them to the pope of the Schism. According to calculations based on the database as of December 19, 2019 (see Table 1), of 316 clearly identified bulls, 214 ranged from the thirteenth-century papacy (67.72 percent of the total 316 for the period 1198–1303, from Innocent III to Boniface VIII); 61 from the Avignon papacy (19.3 percent of the total 316 for the period 1305–1378, from Clement V to Gregory XI); and 41 from the Schism (12.97 percent of the total 316 for the period 1378–1431, from Clement VII/Urban VI to Martin V). The preservation rate for bulls in England identifies the thirteenth-century papacy as the most administratively intensive. Table 1 clearly shows that the majority of bulls for the thirteenth century, and the wider Avignon papacy, including the Schism, are identified with the popes who engaged the most with England, Gregory IX and Innocent IV, who were both highly effective and legislating popes; some of the popes of the Hundred Years War, Clement V and Clement VI; and the first two popes of the Urbanist obedience, Urban VI and Boniface IX (see Illustration 1), who were also supported by England (the fifteen bullae for Boniface IX alone could be explained by his reliance on the distribution of indulgences).60 59

See, for example, for Great Britain, https://finds.org.uk/database/search/results/q/bulla/show/100/ objectType/BULLA (accessed on December 19, 2019), which itemizes some 300 bulls, or www .facebook.com/PortableAntiquitiesNetherlands/ (accessed on February 22, 2021), which is growing in information. 60 For Gregory IX, see Pietro Balan, Storia di Gregorio IX e suoi tempi (Modena, 1873); Joseph Felten, Papst Gregor IX. (Freiburg, 1886); Guido Levi, Registri dei Cardinali Ugolino d’ Ostia e Ottaviano degli Ubaldini (Rome, 1890); and Iben Fonnesberg-Schmidt, The Popes and the Baltic Crusades 1147–1254 (Leiden: Brill, 2007). For Innocent IV, see Elie Berger, Les registres d’ Innocent IV (Paris 1884–1921), 4 vols. (Paris, 1884–1921); August Folz, Kaiser Friedrich II und Papst Innocenz IV. Ihr Kampf in den Jahren 1244 und 1245 (Strassburg, 1905); Alberto Melloni, Innocenzo IV: La concezione e l’esperienza della cristianità come regimen unius personae (Genoa: Marietti, 1990); Agostino Paravicini-Bagliani, “Innocenzo IV,” in Enciclopedia dei Papi, ed. Mario Simonetti et al. (Rome: Treccani, 2000), 1: 384–93. For papal English relations during the Hundred Years War, see, for the latest discussion, Bombi, Anglo-Papal Relations in the Early Fourteenth Century; and Karsten Plöger, England and the Avignon Popes: The Practice of Diplomacy in Late Medieval Europe (London: Legenda, 2005).

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Table 1 Papal Bulls discovered in UK Pope

Percent

Number

Innocent III (1198–1216)

4.75

15

Honorius III (1216–1227)

4.11

13

Gregory IX (1227–1241)

12.34

39

Celestine IV (1241)

0

Innocent IV (1243–1254)

14.24

45

Alexander IV (1254–1261)

5.06

16

Urban IV (1261–1268)

2.22

7

Gregory X (1271–1276)

4.11

13

Innocent V (1276)

0.95

3

Adrian V (1276)

0.32

1

John XXI (1276–1277)

1.58

5

Nicholas III (1277–1280)

5.06

16

Martin IV (1281–1285)

2.53

8

Honorius IV (1285–1287)

0.96

3

Nicholas III (1288–1292)

5.06

16

Celestine V (1294)

0

0

Boniface VIII (1284–1303)

4.43

14

Clement V (1305–1314)

4.43

14

John XXII (1316–1334)

2.85

9

Benedict XII (1334–1342)

0.63

2

Clement VI (1342–1352)

6.01

19

Innocent VI (1352–1362)

0.96

3

Urban V (1362–1379)

2.22

7

Gregory XI (1370–1378)

2.22

7

Clement VII (1378–1394)

1.9

6

Benedict XIII (1394–1423)

0

0

Urban VI (1378–1389)

2.85

9

Boniface IX (1389–1404)

4.75

15

Innocent VII (1404–1406)

0.96

3

Gregory XII (1406–1415)

0

0

Alexander V (1409–1410)

0.32

1

John XXIII (1410–1415)

1.27

4

Martin V (1417–1431)

0.96

3

Total

100

0

316

Source: https://finds.org.uk/database/search/results/q/bulla/show/100/objectType/BULLA (data collected on December 19, 2019) https://doi.org/10.1017/9781316717691.003

84 l performing the papacy, performing the schism

Illustration 1 Bull of Boniface IX (1389–1404). The Portable Antiquities Scheme/The Trustees of the British Museum. Bull of Boniface IX. Unique ID: SOM-C31329. https://finds.org.uk/database/artefacts/record/id/832213

If the multiplication of bulls indicates papal administrative growth, as well as efforts at communicating with secular and religious authorities, one wonders why so many of them are found in unconventional locations – outside of archives and repositories. One can imagine possible scenarios for their survival. They could have been hidden (hence the few bullae found in cesspits and latrines); they could have been collected and peddled to be buried in fields as magical charms, for example; and we know that they were buried with the dead. The practice of inserting bulls in the clothing of the dead is mentioned by R. N. Swanson and supported by ample evidence, including archeological finds.61 The practice was so common that it found liturgical backing in the Manuale ad vsum per celebris ecclesie sarisburiensis, which states that the priest must dispose of the indulgence on the chest of the deceased before closing the coffin, “finitus orationibus claudatur sepulchrum ponente prius sacerdote absolutionem super pectus defuncti sic dicendo.”62 This practice also matches evidence showing bullae pierced and carried as amulets. Roberta Gilchrist, who wrongly assumes that bullae were consecrated, has recently discussed the topic. She surmises: The bulla may have been attached to a papal indulgence that pertained to the deceased individual, or the lead seal itself may have served as an amulet. A large number of lead bullae dating from the 12th to the 15th centuries come from excavated settlements and as metal-detector finds. Their distribution suggests use also as amulets in the home and that they may have circulated long after they had been detached from documents . . .. From burial contexts, bullae date more narrowly from the 14th and 15th centuries and may represent a rite that developed in specific response to the Black Death. It is not clear whether people prized the document or the bulla for its apotropaic powers, but we can make comparisons with the earlier tradition of the use of portrait coins, medallions and 61 62

Swanson, Indulgences, 100. A. Jefferies Collins, Manuale ad vsum per celebris ecclesie sarisburiensis from the Edition Printed at Rouen in 1543 Compared with Those of 1506 (London), 1516 (Rouen), 1523 (Antwerp), 1526 (Paris) (Chichester: Henry Bradshaw Society, 1960), 157.

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Performing Administratively k 85 anthropomorphic bracteates for protective purposes . . .. The images of SS Peter and Paul on bullae possibly had a purpose similar to Roman and Byzantine ruler portraits. The name of the pope inscribed on the bulla may have served as a textual amulet, just as others used divine and sacred names for protective purposes.63

Gilchrist’s analysis tends to demonstrate that there was a large potential for peddling bullae because there was a market for them. While there is no doubt that bullae were believed to carry magical and apotropaic qualities, we need to recognize somewhat the success of the Church at having made an institutional, and strictly defined, “un”liturgical, administrative object (again, they were not consecrated), a means of veneration. It may have not been the intention of the church to transform the legal and “authenticated” into sacred, but the flood of bullae on European “markets” may have made them easy objects to possess. Their ubiquity, regardless of their authenticity, which for contemporaries did not really matter, demonstrates that even ecclesiastical administrative paraphernalia linked the sacred to the mundane and performed the papacy. The thousands of administrative documents that circulated throughout Europe were converted and reconditioned into sacred, sensorial, apotropaic objects legitimating grantors and grantees. But more to the point, these objects performed for the pope and their holders. They brought the pope’s authority and sanctity to people who, rudimentarily, carried a “piece of the Church” with them. The bullae’s marketing value, so to say, is also demonstrated in certain papal pronunciations, like the yearly excommunication uttered on Maundy Thursday. First decreed during the fourteenth century, the bull In Coena Domini anathemized usurpers of all kind, including falsifiers of apostolic documents and bulls, along with apostates, heretics, schismatics, plunderers, and violators.64 After the pope pronounced the bull in Latin, it was She additionally states, “The papal bulla, a lead seal from a papal document, is an example of a consecrated object placed in graves in direct physical contact with the corpse. Archaeologists have recovered approximately sixty papal bullae from medieval graves in Europe, half of which derive from English burials of the 14th or 15th centuries. Currently, twenty examples are from burials at religious houses in England and Wales, and a further three from cathedrals and nine from parish churches. These items were contained within the shroud, placed on the chest and sometimes held in the hand of the corpse. Buried only with adults, approximately half of the known English bullae were associated with women, confirming that this rite was linked with the laity. This contrasts with the interpretation of bullae recovered from French graves, assumed to have been associated with priests, and interpreted as ‘passports to redemption’ that served as proof that a deceased cleric had been absolved of his sin.” Gilchrist, “Magic for the Dead?,” 130–32. 64 For the most up-to-date treatment, see Jaser, Ecclesia maledicens, 374–524. Jaser identifies 1229 as the beginning of the Maundy Thursday, “in coena domini” ritual, with William Durand standardizing language and ritual in the 1290s. The anathema was reissued under Boniface VIII, in 1303; Benedict XII, in 1341; Urban V in 1363 and 1368; and Leo X in 1521. The papal letters mention, for example, Innocent VI’s 1354 bull, which states, 63

Gazaros, Patarenos, Pauperes de Lugduno, Arnaldistas, Sponistas et Passaginos ac quoscumque alios haereticos, piratas, cursarios et latrunculos marinos, illos qui in terris eorum nova pedagia imponunt, illos qui equos, arma, ferrum, lignamina vel alia prohibita Sarracenis deferunt, falsarios bullae et litterarum apostolicarum, illos qui personas ad Sedem apostolicam venientes vel ab ea recedentes seu in Romana curia morantes capiunt, spoliant vel detinent, illos qui personas ad dictam Curiam super earum causis et negotiis recurrentes eaque in eadem Curia prosequentes aut procuratores, gestores, advocatos et promotores earum seu etiam auditores vel judices deputatos verberant, mutilant vel occidunt, tandem illos qui

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86 l performing the papacy, performing the schism usually repeated in its vernacular by an acolyte – again, the papacy may have been aware of the trade in false goods and this is why it attempted to warn the faithful. The pope then flung a lit candle below him. Ulrich Richenthal, described Martin V’s 1418 excommunication in his chronicle: On Maundy Thursday [March 24], Our Holy Father Pope Martin V dressed twelve old men in white clothing, white gowns and hoods, and white shoes and girdles, such as the White Monks wear. At the seventh hour after midnight, he came in his papal robes and the rich miter with which he had been crowned into the balcony window of which I have told you, which was hung more splendidly than ever before. All the cardinals were awaiting him in the balcony, robed like bishops, with white miters, and our lord King with them. The Pope denounced all heathens, heretics, and schismatics, (that is, those who hold the Greek faith), all Jews, all Mohammedans, Pedro de Luna, and all who adhere to his see and have ceased to follow the See of Rome, all falsifiers of Roman bulls and other documents, all counterfeiters and debasers of money and those who bring bad money into the land, all who do not believe in the Roman See and do not obey its commands, all Beghards and Beguines who uphold their own ordinances, and all who do not heed the Pope’s judgments and commands or who add their own counsel and devices to them. He laid them all under a perpetual curse and ban. With his own hand he then threw down burning candles over the people, each one weighing a pound of wax. This he did eleven times [once for each anathema].65

With the mentions of forgery and counterfeiters, the papal anathema emphasized the popularity and widespread usage of these bulls, again, true or forged. Jonathan Sumption actually suggests that many descriptive quotes emanating from jubilees’ travel guides were actually excerpted from forged papal bulls and that Schismatic popes, such as Boniface IX overindulged in their distributions of these indulgences through what modern parlance might call efficient marketing campaigns.66 As such, authentic or not, the abundance of sealed documents produced and distributed by the fourteenth- and fifteenth-century papacy takes on a distinctive connotation. These documents clearly served papal performance during the early Middle Ages, the Avignon papacy, and the Schism. Each pope needed to outdo his rival administratively – something civitates, castra, villas, terras, loca et jura quaelibet ecclesiae Romanae occupant et detinent occupata in die Cena Domini excommunicat et anathematizat, absolutione eorum Romano pontifici reservata. Ut per litteras, # 000881 (Innocent VI, Lettres secrètes et curiales). See also, N. A., The Bull “In Coena Domini” (London: John Hatchard & Son, 1848); Lester K. Little, “The Separation of Religious Curses from Blessings in the Latin West,” Memoirs of the American Academy in Rome 51/52 (2006): 29–40. As Little states, “Most editions of the bull list about twenty categories of delinquents who are to be excommunicated and anathematized, [sic] including heretics, those who appeal papal decisions to future church councils, pirates in the Mediterranean, those who counterfeit papal documents, and those who kill, wound, or detain persons traveling to or from the Holy See.” In the 1380’s, John Wycliffe criticized the practice. See Little, “The Separation of Religious Curses from Blessings in the Latin West,” 36. 65 The Council of Constance, 180–81. 66 Jonathan Sumption, Pilgrimage: An Image of Mediaeval Religion (London: Faber & Faber, 1975), 243.

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Music and the Virgin k 87 that the Clementist obedience did quite well from the start by continuing the enormous progress of the Avignon popes, while Urban VI had to raise his administration from the bottom up.67 When a pope such as Boniface IX filled his coffers by selling indulgences during the Schism, it could be argued that he was aware that “his” leaden seals would end up on the chests of their recipients. In addition to providing income, the acceleration of sales also supported Boniface’s legitimation. It could also be argued that the multiplication of sales was considered a “performing” strategy bringing home to his obedience that he was truly the sole pope, and as such was literally carried against the skin of his followers. Hence, competing obediences distributed documents not only to assert (or perform) their authority administratively but also physically, knowing that they would literally be “touching” Christian bodies.

Music and the Virgin: The Feasts of the Presentation and Visitation

A

fter discussing the role bullae played in legitimating obediences and empowering the faithful, the following will examine appeals for unity to the highest of all Christian intercessors, the Virgin Mary. Within a few years of each other, both obediences advanced feasts and liturgies dedicated to the Virgin. The Feasts of the Presentation and Visitation both allowed the Clementist and Urbanist obedience to display their righteousness to the mother of Christ and to plead their case for a return to unity. Edmond Bramfeld, Boniface IX’s master of schools at the Apostolic Palace, insisted that as Mary had destroyed the seam between the human and divine nature of Christ, she would similarly reestablish unity to the church, because she was its mother.68 The Virgin Mary, favorite intercessor of the Middle Ages, seemed to be the ideal vector that would solve the crisis. The purity of the Virgin, and the approval of feasts supporting the burgeoning concept of her Immaculate Conception, felt most appropriate to defend the legitimacy of each obedience. On November 21, 1385, at the Augustinian convent of Avignon, Philippe de Mézières, the former chancellor of the king of Cyprus and counsellor of Charles V and VI, offered Pope Clement VII a performance of his liturgical drama celebrating the Feast of Mary’s Presentation to the Temple.69 A solemn papal mass accompanied the performance, and the

See Rollo-Koster, Avignon and Its Papacy, 243–44; and Jean Favier, Les finances pontificales à l’époque du Grand Schisme d’Occident 1378–1409 (Paris: Boccard, 1966). 68 Millet, “Le grand pardon du pape (1390),” 252. See also Harvey, The English in Rome, 203. 69 We have to assume that de Mézières was present since he recorded, “personaliter procurante apud Dominum nostrum Summum Pontificem Clementem Septimum.” See William E. Coleman, Philippe de Mézières’ Campaign for the Feast of Mary’s Presentation, Edited from Bibliothèque Nationale MSS. Latin 17330 and 14454 (Toronto: Pontifical Institute for Medieval Studies, 1981), 110. Regarding this feast and liturgical play, see Karl Young, “Phillippe de Mézières’ Dramatic Office for the Presentation of the Virgin,” PMLA 26 (1911): 181–234; Karl Young, The Drama of the Medieval Church, 2 vols. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1933), 1: 225–57; Mary Jerome Kishpaugh, The Feast of the Presentation of the Virgin Mary in the Temple: An Historical and Literary Study (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 1941); Richard William Pfaff, New Liturgical Feasts in Later Medieval England (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1970), 103–15; Philippe de Mézières, Figurative Representation of the Presentation of the Virgin Mary in the Temple, 67

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88 l performing the papacy, performing the schism author who describes the event felt compelled to add that some eighteen cardinals attended and, of course, all stayed till the end of mass (vtique presentibus usque ad finem misse xviij. cardinalibus).70 Several archbishops and bishops were also in attendance, accompanied by the entire clergy of the city and the population (of both sexes) at large. To demonstrate the pope’s and the city’s devotion to the Virgin, fifteen little girls, three- to four-years old, participated in the liturgical drama with the prettiest acting as the young Mary. After the performance, the eminent Augustinian theologian John of Basle delivered a sermon, which, according to all, was the sweetest sermon they had ever heard in their life at the court (toto clero et dominis cardinalibus publice atestantibus quasi vna voce omnes dicebant quod numquam temporibus ipsorum pulcriorem sermonem de Beata Uirgine audiuerant in Curia Romana).71 To memorialize the events, the pope offered an indulgence of three years to the attendants.72 The play truncated de Mézières’s earlier iteration that had been presented to Pope Gregory XI at the 1372 celebration of the feast’s foundation. The text had then been approved by a papal commission.73 As chancellor of the king of Cyprus, de Mézières had been sent with an embassy to Avignon in 1372. He had remained in the city for several months, dedicating his time to writing his liturgical play. Lobbying for the crusading effort, de Mézières had hoped that his Western adaptation of the Eastern liturgical feast (that he

70

71 72

73

trans. and ed. Robert S. Hailer (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1971); Dykmans, Cérémonial-Conzié, 3: 44; Paulette L’Hermite-Leclercq, “Avignon en fête: La Présentation de la Vierge au Temple de Philippe de Mézières jouée le 21 novembre 1372,” in Commerce, finances et société, XIe–XVIe siècles, recueil de travaux d’histoire médiévale offert à M. le Prof. Henri Dubois, ed. Philippe Contamine, Thierry Dutour, and Bertrand Schnerb (Paris: Presses de l’Université de Paris-Sorbonne, 1993), 327–39; Paulette L’Hermite-Leclercq, “L’image de la Vierge de la Présentation au Temple dans la pièce de Philippe de Mézières représentée à Avignon en 1372,” in Marie: Le culte de la vierge dans la société médiévale, ed. Dominique Iogna-Prat, Eric Palazzo, and Daniel Russo (Paris: Beauchesne, 1996), 361–80; and James Boyce and William E. Coleman, Officium presentationis Beate Virginis Marie in Templo: Office of the Presentation of the Blessed Virgin Mary Which Is Celebrated on the 21st Day of November (Ottawa: Institute of Mediæval Music, 2001). For a general history of the feast’s liturgy and its Immaculist consequences, see Ignazio M. Calabuig, O.S.M., “The Liturgical Cult of Mary in the East and West,” in Handbook for Liturgical Studies, Volume V: Liturgical Time and Space, ed. Anscar J. Chupungco (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 2000), 251, 285–92. Of less relevance to my topic, but still essential, Paulette L’Hermite-Leclercq, “Les juifs et la Synagogue chez Philippe de Mézières,” in L’Expulsion des Juifs de France de 1394, ed. Gilbert Dahan (Paris: Cerf, 2004), 135–74, argues that Mézières’s veneration of the Virgin in his Présentation (1373, 1385) and Songe du vieil pèlerin (1386–1389) accentuates the contrast between Mary and Synagogue, and his writings belong to the theological construction of antisemitism, in turn one of the foundational reason for the French expulsion of its Jewish population in 1394. Coleman, Philippe de Mézières’ Campaign for the Feast of Mary’s Presentation, 110. It seems somewhat suspect that the author insists on the fact that the cardinals stayed. Maybe a sign that during lengthy performances they usually left. Coleman, Philippe de Mézières’ Campaign for the Feast of Mary’s Presentation, 111. “Et qui audiuit et narrata vidit testimonium perhibuit, et verum est testimonium eius ad laudem Matris Dei Filijque eius benedicti, qui est benedictus in secula seculorum.” Coleman, Philippe de Mézières’ Campaign for the Feast of Mary’s Presentation, 111. This indulgence for auditioning a liturgical drama seems a rare occurrence. The papal letters do not refer to any other cases. See de Mézières’s “Epistola de solempnitate Presentationis Beate Marie in templo et nouitate ipsius ad partes occidentales,” which describes his motivations and history, in Coleman, Philippe de Mézières’ Campaign for the Feast of Mary’s Presentation, 41–52.

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Music and the Virgin k 89 had discovered in Cyprus) would contribute to a rapprochement between both churches. And a reunion of both Eastern and Western churches favored and heightened the chances for a crusade to the Levant. After approval by the pope, the feast was celebrated for the first time on November 21, 1372, at the Franciscan convent in Avignon.74 It should be noted that the feast never entered papal ceremonials. The feast found its sources in the Apocrypha, the Protoevangelium Jacobi, or The Infancy Gospel of James.75 According to the 1372 drama, Anne becomes pregnant miraculously and, along with her husband, decides to consecrate Mary to the Temple. On the day of consecration, Mary escapes her parents and runs alone up the steps of the Temple toward the high priest, a sign of her special gift. She spends the next few years at the Temple fed by angels. When at fourteen she is promised into marriage, she refuses in the name of her virginity but eventually weds the impotent Joseph. The play depicts Mary as a child in full control of her destiny and agency, aware of her “queenship,” she runs alone up the steps that lead her to the high priest. As Paulette l’Hermitte-Leclercq underscores, de Mézières accentuated the Virgin’s predestination. It satisfied devotees who highlighted two of Mary’s miracles: that she had been conceived miraculously and that she had been offered to the Temple at three-years old. Immaculate Conception and Presentation to the Temple took centuries to be recognized by the Catholic liturgy, but de Mézières constituted one step in that process.76 As stated by de Mézières himself in his 1372 version, drama – in a certain sense like sacraments – rendered the unintelligible mysteries intelligible (ad cognitionem inuisibilium visibiliumque misteriorum Dei peruenire valeret, vt in sequentibus lucide declaratur).77 If the initial version emphasized Mary’s elevated status and independence, little is known of this second iteration and the conditions of its performance, except that the play had been altered and somewhat deprived Mary of control over her own destiny. Her profoundly dramatic silence in the 1372 version was replaced in the later version with her singing along with her parents and the angels.78 She was no longer alone in 1385 but accompanied by her parents and fifteen little girls, and by this point did not run but docilely climbed the stairs, whereupon she was brought to the choir to hear mass. In short, by 1385, Mary had lost her independence and displayed, instead, the obedience of a nun entering a convent. The context of the November 1385 performance is difficult to ascertain. By that date, the French Angevins – heirs to Joanna of Naples – were wholly involved in the Schism, intent on seizing their “adopted” kingdom of Sicily and taking Naples from the Hungarian Angevin Charles of Durazzo (from a different Angevin line). Louis I Anjou had died in September 1384, and the following May, Clement VII invested the kingdom to his young son Louis II of Sicily in a grand ceremony. Mézières’s performance followed these events by 74

75

76 77 78

Coleman, Philippe de Mézières’ Campaign for the Feast of Mary’s Presentation, 4; and Pfaff, New Liturgical Feasts in Later Medieval England, 103–4. As Pfaff (105–6) underscores, the feast was not unknown in the West. See Boyce and Coleman, Officium presentationis Beate Virginis Marie in Templo, vi–vii, for a discussion of the scriptural sources. L’ Hermite-Leclerq, “L’image de la Vierge,” 363, 367, 372–76. Coleman, Philippe de Mézières’ Campaign for the Feast of Mary’s Presentation, 84. “Qua presentata ad altare cum laudibus et carminibus dauiticis alta voce per angelos, loachim et Annam, et ipsam Mariam recitatis.” Coleman, Philippe de Mézières’ Campaign for the Feast of Mary’s Presentation, 111.

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90 l performing the papacy, performing the schism a few months, amidst preparation for a new Italian expedition. But the usually verbose and descriptive Jean Le Fèvre, chancellor of both dukes of Anjou, remains silent on that day’s performance (November 21, 1385). He was not at the court or among the audience.79 It could be argued that this was a feverish phase for a pope who had placed all his financial and spiritual hopes in the young duke of Anjou. One may surmise that the play highlighted Clement’s devotion to the Virgin (and maybe her immaculate conception) with the intended result of receiving her support and blessing, her legitimation of his rule. The play highlighted the rapport between the Clementist obedience and Christ’s mother/bride. The play’s representation of the pseudo-union of the young virgin to her groom – Christ, her yet-to-be-born child, symbolized this attachment. But most of all, the Marian polyphonic choir, uniting the virginal voices of the little girls, angels, Mary, and her parents, lifted Clementist prayers to heaven in a quest for legitimacy and benediction.80 In sum, the liturgical play was a chanting prayer, a papal performance whose audience was the celestial court. Its hope, in return, was Mary’s gift of legitimacy on the Avignonese pope. That the Schism was performed musically in polyphonic orisons may not have gone unnoticed to the Urbanist obedience.81 If the Feast of the Presentation had been supported by orders such as the Celestines (with whom de Mézières retired), Augustinians, Franciscans, and Carmelites (whom he supported), it is no surprise that the Dominicans at that time initiated the approval of a new feast also dedicated to the Virgin, the Feast of the Visitation.82 The main orchestrator of the feast was John of Jenstein. In De origine festi visitationis, Iaroslaus V. Polc traces the feast’s origins and reviews most of the texts that backed its foundation theologically. They included Raimond of Capua’s (c. 1330–1399) Tractatus super Magnificat, Adam Easton’s (c. 1328/1338–1397) Homiliae XXXVII super Magnificat, and others.83 John of Jenstein studied law at various European universities, from Prague to Paris, via Padova and Bologna. Bishop of Meissen in 1375, he followed Urban VI, who named him to Prague in October 1378. Wenceslaus IV simultaneously named him his chancellor. Deeply affected by the Schism, he commiserated on the ills of the Church in a pamphlet sent to Urban VI, De consideratione et lacrymis militantis Ecclesiae (no date). 79

Jean Le Fèvre and Henri Moranvillé, Journal de Jean Le Fèvre, évêque de Chartres, chancelier des rois de Sicile Louis I et Louis II d’Anjou (Paris: Picard, 1887), 199. 80 Again, Boyce and Coleman, Officium presentationis Beate Virginis Marie in Templo, 1–40, produce the score. 81 With little knowledge of medieval music’s historiography, I found most informative the essayreview of Annette Kreutziger-Herr, “Review of Bruce W. Holsinger, Music, Body, and Desire in Medieval Culture: Hildegard of Bingen to Chaucer (Stanford: Stanford University press, 2001),” Music & Letters 86, no. 1 (2005): 100–104. 82 On Franciscans and mendicant supports of the Presentation, see L’Hermite-Leclerq, “L’image de la Vierge,” 103; and Kishpaugh, The Feast of the Presentation of the Virgin Mary, 103. On the Dominican origins of the Visitation, see Ira Westergård, Approaching Sacred Pregnancy: The Cult of the Visitation and Narrative Altarpieces in Late Fifteenth-Century Florence (Helsinki: Suomalaisen Kirjallisuuden Seura, 2007), 56–63. 83 See Iaroslaus V. Polc, De origine festi visitationis B.M.V. (Rome: Pontificia Università Lateranense, 1967), especially 73ff.; See Ruben E. Weltsch, Archbishop John of Jenstein, 1348–1400: Papalism, Humanism and Reform in Pre-Hussite Prague (The Hague: Mouton, 1968), for the most recent work on the topic; and Westergård, Approaching Sacred Pregnancy, 29–67, for a summary of the cult in the Middle Ages.

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Music and the Virgin k 91 The feast grew from Jenstein’s vision – not unchallenged – that “it was the Blessed Virgin who would prevail on her Son to take the scourge of the Schism from the faithful.”84 He instituted the Feast of the Visitation in his diocese on June 16, 1386. This received local opposition. He petitioned Urban the following July with the hope of establishing the feast for the whole church. In order to receive papal support for his endeavor, Jenstein argued that Urban had received many divine favors: he had escaped Genoa unscathed, and his enemies Charles of Durazzo and Leopold of Habsburg were dead, one murdered and the other slain on the battlefield. At such a junction, Urban needed to propitiate the Virgin to end the Schism.85 Still, larger politics were at play. In 1389, Prague’s university was favored by French “immaculist” Dominicans who found Paris’s opposition (maculist) more and more difficult to bear, and who could have influenced local Czech clergy. During the Schism, Bohemia and Prague remained Urbanists, while the University of Paris was Clementist. With the help of the order’s grand master, Raymond of Capua, the Dominican’s Urbanist sanctuary of Prague rivaled Paris. Both Capua and Jenstein were convinced that the Virgin would help solve the crisis, hence their insistence on founding the feast of the Visitation. Urban did not approve the feast right away, maybe because Wenceslaus had, at the time, decided to withdraw tithes from the pontiff, and Jenstein was excommunicated. These events convinced Adalbertus Ranconis de Ericinio, Jenstein’s rival colleague, a Czech theologian and rector of the University of Paris, to pen in 1387–1388 a pamphlet against Jenstein (Apologia magistri Adalberti) arguing for the rejection of the feast.86 Several public disputes ensued. Free from excommunication in April 1387, Jenstein responded to Adalbertus with a Contra Adalberlum, and a Libellus secundus ad honorem Dei et Beatae Mariae Visitationis.87 After a thorough investigation – three years of deliberation involving some thirty-seven theologians and canonists88 – Urban VI approved the feast day, especially as it coincided nicely with the 1390 jubilee.89 Urban instituted the feast on Thursday, April 8, 1389.90 Pierre Ameil’s ceremonial offers some details on that day’s promulgation.91 After mass, the pope, in public consistory (wearing his pluvial with his golden miter with pearls), heard the master of the Sacred Palace propose the feast in the words of Luke 1:43, Unde hoc mihi, ut mater Domini mei veniat ante me (Elizabeth to Mary, “but why am I so favored, that the mother of my Lord should come to me?”). After the sermon, the pope put on his red mantle (clamide) and published the bull (which we know is not accurate since it was not

84

Weltsch, Archbishop John of Jenstein, 88. On the link between the Virgin and the end of the Schism, see Jaroslac Polc, “Maria et magnum schisma occidentale,” in Congressus Mariologici-Mariani. Maria et Ecclesia: Acta Congressus Mariologici-Mariani in civitate Lourdes anno 1958 celebrati. Vol. X (Rome: Academia Mariana Internationalis, 1960), 171–82. 85 Weltsch, Archbishop John of Jenstein, 89. 86 On that dispute, see Weltsch, Archbishop John of Jenstein, 122–31. See also Albert Henry Wratislaw, John of Jenstein, Archbishop of Prague, 1378–1397 (London: Royal Historical Society, 1878). 87 Jenstein works were collected under his leadership in a Codex now at the Vatican Library (Cod. Vat. Lat. 1122). 88 Polc, De origine festi visitationis, 48–78, and Weltsch, Archbishop John of Jenstein, 87–91. 89 See Westergård, Approaching Sacred Pregnancy, 64–65; and Weltsch, Archbishop John of Jenstein, 89. 90 For a description of the April consistory, see Polc, De origine festi visitationis, 78–84. 91 Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 212–13.

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92 l performing the papacy, performing the schism promulgated until Boniface IX’s Superni benignitas on November 9, 1389).92 According to Ameil, that same bull shortened the jubilee to twenty-four years and ranked the four principal churches of Rome, with S. Pietro first, followed by S. Paolo, S. Giovanni in Laterano, and Santa Maria Maggiore fourth.93 In any case, as Richard William Pfaff remarks, this was one of the very few occurrences when a feast emerged with little popular support and “solely by the fiat of authority.”94 Urban died shortly after. And as noted, it was his successor, Boniface IX, who promulgated the feast with his bull Superni benignitas. As such, the feast entered papal ceremonial. Pierre Ameil locates it between the Feast of St. John the Baptist and the Vigil of Peter and Paul. He states that the Visitation was announced by a preacher on June 29, 1389, and the feast was celebrated (with indulgences) by the pope during first mass, on July 2, at Santa Maria Maggiore.95 Ironically, the feast’s foundation by the Urbanists during the Schism initially limited its wider adoption: Clementists rejected it.96 There is no better proof of this rejection than its absence from François de Conzié’s Clementist ceremonial.97 The feast found its general approval only after the end of the Schism, with renewed promulgations from the council of Basel in July 1441, Pope Nicholas V in 1451, and Sixtus IV in 1475.98 For further example, the canons of Notre-Dame de Paris only started observing the feast in May 1474.99 As Richard Pfaff suggests, before 1475, awareness of the feast did not automatically translate into its observance.100 Thus, two popes of the Schism, Clement and Urban, turned to the Virgin, considered the utmost intercessor with Christ, within four years (1385 and 1389) of each other to help solve the crisis. The feast of the Visitation found its origin in Luke 1:39–56, which describes Mary’s visit to her cousin Elizabeth – who was married to Zechariah and pregnant with the

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Bullarium diplomatum et privilegiorum sanctorum romanum pontificum Taurinensis editio, 24 vols. (Turin: Seb. Franco, H. Fory et Henrico Dalmazzo editoribus 1857–1867), 4: 602–4; and Ippolito Marracci, Pontifices maximi Mariani seu de Romanorum Pontificum in Mariam Deiparam (Rome: Apud Franciscum Caballum 1642), 135–39. 93 Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 213. 94 Richard William Pfaff, New Liturgical Feasts in Later Medieval England (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1970), 40. 95 Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 199. 96 Frank Leslie Cross and Elizabeth A. Livingstone, The Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 1716. Pfaff, New Liturgical Feasts in Later Medieval England, 42; Millet, “Le grand pardon du pape (1390),” 251–62, emphasizes the strong link uniting the feast’s foundation and the 1390 jubilee. For the Urbanist obedience, the jubilee would empty Clement’s obedience, which would abandon Clement for Rome, in order to receive Boniface’s jubilee indulgence. This explains why Clement VII, as early as November 22, 1389, forbade the pilgrimage. 97 For François de Conzié, see Dykmans, Cérémonial-Conzié, 3: 39; for Pierre Ameil, see Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 199. 98 Calabuig, “The Liturgical Cult of Mary,” 293; Pfaff, New Liturgical Feasts in Later Medieval England, 46. We need to note that again the feast was associated with the jubilee, as 1450 and 1475 were jubilee years. 99 Craig M. Wright, Music and Ceremony at Notre Dame of Paris, 500–1550 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), 123. 100 The author traces its English observance’s evolution, see Pfaff, New Liturgical Feasts in Later Medieval England, 47–61.

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Music and the Virgin k 93 future John the Baptist.101 Discussing the text, Ignazio M. Calabuig cites A. Valentini’s emphasis on liturgy: “The entire passage is presented with a liturgical character: in the structure, by means of which it presents the announcement of salvation, to which the joyous profession of faith is a response; in the canticles that are placed on the lips of Elizabeth (1:42–45) and Mary (1:46–55); and by the special vocabulary used in the pericope.”102 The Eastern church had celebrated Mary on various days from the earliest days of Christianity.103 On July 2, the liturgy focused on “the memorial of the deposition of the burial urn in which the mortal remains of the Mother of Christ rested in the church called Blacherne, given by the bishop Juvenal of Jerusalem to Pulcheria, consort of the emperor Marcian (450–457).”104 A different iteration of the same feast day celebrated the deposition of Mary’s sacred robe in 473 in Constantinople. But it was the Crusades that passed on to the West her specific feast day, and the Western tradition shifted emphasis: Mary’s pregnancy now became the focus. Note the similarity with the previously discussed feast of the Presentation, also brought to the West from the East, clearly demonstrating the Byzantine origins of late medieval Marian devotion. As Ira Westergård underscores, the feast retained a liturgical and sacred historical character because it was grounded in a biblical passage, one that had been commented on since the beginning of Christianity.105 Eventually “the Visitation came to represent the moment when the fact that the Incarnation has taken place was revealed to mankind.”106 The affirmation of the doctrine of transubstantiation in 1214 – by which the true presence of Christ was considered to be in the Eucharist – is also connected with Marian devotion. “The ‘creation’ of Christ’s body in the Eucharist was analogous to the creation of Christ’s body in Mary’s womb, because Christ was ‘the living bread which came down from heaven.’ (John 6:51).”107 It is difficult to argue that the foundation of the Visitation competed directly with the recent foundation of the Presentation. The only certainty is that both feasts were not widely observed until decades later, in the 1470s.108 It is also impossible to know if the Urbanists were aware of the November 1385 Presentation’s office in Avignon. It is probable, considering the rapport between the French and Bohemian institutions. Still, the timing of the Visitation is suspicious. Iaroslaus Polc leaves no doubt that the feast of the Visitation, along with the call for a jubilee year in 1390, was part of a

The passage reads, “When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the baby leaped in her womb, and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit. In a loud voice she exclaimed: ‘Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the child you will bear! But why am I so favored, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? As soon as the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the baby in my womb leaped for joy. Blessed is she who has believed that the Lord would fulfill his promises to her!’” 102 Calabuig, “The Liturgical Cult of Mary,” 221. 103 For early commentaries, see the discussion in Westergård, Approaching Sacred Pregnancy, 34–38. 104 Calabuig, “The Liturgical Cult of Mary,” 292. 105 Westergård, Approaching Sacred Pregnancy, 29. 106 Westergård, Approaching Sacred Pregnancy, 32. 107 Westergård, Approaching Sacred Pregnancy, 32. 108 Notre-Dame’s first observance of the Presentation took place in November 1471. See Wright, Music and Ceremony at Notre Dame of Paris, 122–23. 101

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94 l performing the papacy, performing the schism master plan aimed at legitimizing Urban VI’s election and the Urbanist obedience.109 Jenstein’s visions nudged the pope in that direction.110 Jenstein’s creation of his Marian office for the feast is also chronologically close to de Mézières’s second Presentation iteration of 1385. Both offices, which may have influenced each other, involved polyphonic singing aimed at attracting the virgin’s blessing. I will leave to specialists the task of comparing the music of the Presentation and Visitation.111 But what needs to be highlighted here is the use, in both cases, of liturgy, music, and the performance of polyphony, as if voices singing in unity were a harbinger of the Church’s unity. As David Fiala and Philippe Vendrix suggest, there is a “music of power” in the late Middle Ages.112 Boniface IX may have been cognizant of the importance of forms, and as such became wholly engaged in the writing of the office. He certainly rejected the office written by John of Jenstein (Exsurgens Maria abiit in montana) and approved the one written by cardinal Adam Easton, bishop of London (Accedunt laudes Virginis), but not solely – the Visitation’s liturgical texts proliferated.113 Calabuig argues that Boniface ordered the adoption for the feast of “the [Office] of the Nativity of Mary with the Mass Salve sancta parens and the gospel Exsurgens, which is read on Friday of Ember Week in Advent.”114 If this is correct, then maintaining traditional liturgy, and not innovating, was Boniface’s legitimating tool. Continuity prevailed. But what is certain is that both obediences petitioned the Virgin for her intercession.115 In his review of Ruben E. Weltsch’s Archbishop John of Jenstein, Howard Kaminsky criticizes Jenstein for “liturgical ritualism” for his new feast. The jibe may be what actually attracted Urban and Boniface to the Dominican’s enterprise, because in the end both popes 109

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Jaroslav Polc, “La festa della Visitatione e il giubileo del 1390,” Rivista di storia della chiesa in Italia 29 (1975): 149–72. On the 1390 jubilee, see also Esch, “I giubilei del 1390 e del 1400,” 1: 279–93; and Millet, “Le grand pardon du pape (1390),” 255–56. “Igitur humiliter supplicat vestre sanctitati Iohannes archiepiscopus Pragensis cui nutu Dei quasi per revelacionem fuit inspiratum ut festum Visitacionis beate Marie . . . in dei ecclesia celebr [ar]etur;” or “Et forsan ipsa [Maria] invenit ministrum suum dominum archiepiscopum Pragensem et motorem primitivum huius festi, ac super hoc specialem influenciam sibi dederit.” Polc, De origine festi visitationis, 74. Giuliano di Bacco and John Nádas, “The Papal Chapels and Italian Sources of Polyphony during the Great Schism,” in Papal Music and Musicians in Medieval and Renaissance Rome, ed. Robert Sherr (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998), 44–92, offer information on music specifically during the Schism. David Fiala and Philippe Vendrix, “Musique, pouvoir et legitimation aux xve et xvie siècles,” in La légitimité implicite, ed. Philippe Genet (Paris: Éditions de la Sorbonne, 2015), 375–422. Pfaff, New Liturgical Feasts in Later Medieval England, 44, who cites three offices written shortly after 1389: Jenstein’s Exurgens autem Maria, Easton’s Accedunt laudes Virginis, and Raymond de Capua’s Collaetentur corda fidelium. On Easton, see Margaret Harvey, The English in Rome 1362–1460: Portrait of an Expatriate Community (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), 203–4. Jenstein was present in Rome for the 1390 jubilee and insisted that the pope finalized the liturgy. See also Guido Maria Drèves and Clemens Blume, Analecta hymnica medii aevi (Leipzig: Reisland, 1896), 24: 89–122, for the various liturgical iterations. Calabuig, “The Liturgical Cult of Mary,” 293. See Dykmans, Cérémonial-Conzié, 3: 41, 45, 103, 240, 248, 255–56, 260–61, 383, for contemporary celebrations in Avignon; and Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 205, 233, 267, 273–75 for the Urbanist observances.

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Music and the Virgin k 95 were aware that liturgical ritualism worked and legitimated.116 Still, it is worth noting that liturgical singing belonged to the panoply of legitimating performances deployed during the Schism. In his discussion of music during the Schism, Reinhard Strohm asserts, “The popes of Rome and Avignon also competed by enriching the liturgy with new devotions of wide, popular appeal.”117 He defends his statement citing the “adoption” by Clement VII of the Feast of the Presentation and Boniface’s adoption of the Feast of the Visitation.118 He leaves it at that. Additional liturgical examples can be found in the Missa pro pace et unitate ecclesie created in 1393 by Pope Clement VII.119 The anonymous first life of Clement VII found in Étienne Baluze states that, At that time, to end the Schism and reach unity, Pope Clement ordered that everywhere be organized processions, and that all pray with fervor to God and his saints, and that all celebrate masses and especially the one with the introit: Salvos nos fac Domine et congrega nos de nationibus whose texts were then assembled on his order. He also granted numerous indulgences to all who satisfied the various exercises, good until the fruition of the prayers.120

Hélène Millet and Catherine Vincent have discussed the emphasis on public forms of devotion during the Schism (collective prayers, for example), linking the development of these new feast days to new pilgrimages and Marian devotion.121 Mary, who had bridged the chasm separating the human and divine natures of her son could also bridge the Schism.122 It is of note that she was also linked to music. In certain contemporary iconographic representations, the Virgin is surrounded by musician-angels.123 But most of all, Millet and Vincent insist on the chronological coincidence between the Schism and the “disease” of Charles VI (his first psychotic episode is dated August 5, 1392). They show how public prayers and the mass for the Church’s Union (salvos fac nos) were intended to abate both.

He adds, “Thus the portrait of a narrow-minded, reactionary, superficial incompetent is replaced by that of an interestingly gifted, well-meaning neurotic.” Howard Kaminsky, “Review of Archbishop John of Jenstein, 1348–1400: Papalism, Humanism and Reform in Pre-Hussite Prague, by Ruben E. Weltsch,” Speculum 44 (1969): 329. 117 Reinhard Strohm, The Rise of European Music, 1380–1500 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 19. 118 Strohm, The Rise of European Music, 49. 119 S. Salaville, “L’origine avignonnaise de la messe ‘ad tollendum schisma,’” L’année théologique 3 (1942): 117–22; and Robert Amiet, “La Messe pour l’unité des chretiens,” Revue des sciences religieuses 28 (1954): 1–35. 120 “Eodem tempore [1393] memoratus Clemens papa pro sedatione scismatis et unione Ecclesie obtinendis ordinavit quod ubique processiones fierent, orationes ad Deum et sanctos ejus devote funderentur, et misse celebrarentur continue, et specialiter illa cujus officium incipit: Salvos nos fac Domine et congrega nos de nationibus, etc., que cum aliis ad eam pertinentibus fuit per ipsum tunc propter hoc ordinata. Dedit etiam multas indulgentias premissa facientibus, usque ad effectum petitionis hujusmodi duraturas.” Baluze, Vitae 1: 513–14. 121 Hélène Millet and Catherine Vincent, “La prière pour l’unité de l’Église,” in Cahiers de Fanjeaux 39: Le midi et le Grand Schisme d’Occident (Toulouse: Privat, 2004), 531–71. 122 Millet and Vincent, “La prière pour l’unité de l’Église,” 552–58. 123 Millet and Vincent, “La prière pour l’unité de l’Église,” 554. 116

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96 l performing the papacy, performing the schism In 1393, Bernard Alaman, bishop of Condom rationalized this double intention by suggesting that the church needed reform, which could only be promoted by the king of France. These reforms were the true remedy for both the king and the church’s illness.124 Noël Valois labels the years ranging from the late 1380s to early 1390s “the awakening of official piety.”125 Earlier in 1387, the Carthusians had requested that their members recite prayers and orisons, while cardinals requested similar devotion in their sermons, and theologians such as Jean Gerson recommended adding fasting and processions to prayers.126 It is obvious that as the Schism continued and men could not negotiate a solution, they sought divine intervention.127 Liturgy could mesh with politics. Still, Reinhard Strohm suggests that if music, singing, and liturgy could legitimize obedience, they could also criticize popes. Thus, performances either buttressed or assaulted religious and political obedience. For example, in 1395, Parisian police decreed that “It is forbidden to all singing minstrels and song-makers to compose, say or sing, whether here or elsewhere, any musical ditties that make mention of the pope, the king, or the lords of France, with reference to the fact of the unity of the Church.”128 In any case, the Feast of the Visitation became popular enough that it marked important events. In 1419, it sealed the reconciliation between the newly elected pope of Christian unity, Martin V, and the deposed Baldassare Cossa. A sermon pronounced for the occasion by Cardinal Jean de Brogny, chancellor of the College, found its way into a remarkable document, the beautifully illustrated manuscript of Antonio Baldana’s de magno Schismate, that will be addressed in Chapter 3. It is evident that even without taking an overly functional approach, liturgy is imbedded in the system of papal written, oral, aural, and visual communication, along with other forms of written material like chronicles, biographies, letters, and libelli.129 Liturgy was not invented with the Schism; it long predates it. While liturgy and politics sometimes met, with, for example, the liturgical commemoration of the 1099 capture of Jerusalem,130 a systematic review of liturgical feasts’ foundations would enlighten us on the reciprocity between the sacred and the political. Liturgy commemorates and celebrates. As Cecilia Gaposchkin emphasizes, “liturgy was memory. And it was also sacred history.”131 Millet and Vincent, “La prière pour l’unité de l’Église,” 550. Valois, La France, 2: 403. 126 Amiet, “La Messe pour l’unité des chretiens,” 6–7. 127 It is interesting to note that the Schism allowed for what Barbara Newman calls the “domestication of the sacred.” Newman does not automatically link new forms of public piety with the crisis, but she offers evidence nonetheless when she discusses how contemporaries of the Schism such as Geert Grote (d. 1384), Henry of Langenstein (d. 1397), and Jean Gerson (d. 1429) warned that visionaries should be treated with skepticism. Barbara Newman, “What Did It Mean to Say ‘I Saw’? The Clash between Theory and Practice in Medieval Visionary Culture,” Speculum 80 (2005): 1–43. 128 Strohm, The Rise of European Music, 20. 129 See, for example, Gerd Althoff, Iben Fonnesberg-Schmidt, and William Kynan-Wilson, “Framing Papal Communication in the Central Middle Ages,” Journal of Medieval History 44, no. 3 (2018): 251–60. 130 See, for example, M. Cecilia Gaposchkin, “The Echoes of Victory: Liturgical and Para-Liturgical Commemorations of the Capture of Jerusalem in the West,” Journal of Medieval History 40, no. 3 (2014): 237–59. 131 Gaposchkin, “The Echoes of Victory,” 238. 124 125

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The Golden Rose k 97 The recording of sacred memories played a foundational role in papal performances before and during the Schism. It was of utter importance to bind popes to liturgical foundations because it legitimized them.

The Golden Rose f most of the senses – sight, hearing, touch, and, to a lesser extent, taste - found their place in the “political” liturgy of the papacy, the performance of authority through the last sense, smell, has gone almost unnoticed.132 But smell belongs to the panoply of politicoreligious experience and performance. Even today, one only needs to enter a church, or a temple, or attend a funeral, to smell the sacred. After resisting the attraction of fragrance because it evoked too easily pagan practices, Christianity embraced it for its distinctive qualities. Enshrined in 2 Corinthians 2:14–16, smell became a sign of Christian adoration and prayers, the ephemeral and memorial link between the profane and the sacred:

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But thanks be to God, who always leads us as captives in Christ’s triumphal procession and uses us to spread the aroma of the knowledge of him everywhere. For we are to God the pleasing aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing. To the one we are an aroma that brings death; to the other, an aroma that brings life. And who is equal to such a task?

According to Jonathan Reinarz, “scents signified individual and group identity in a morally constructed universe, where the good smelled pleasant and their opposites reeked.”133 Furthermore, he suggests that smell was intuitive. “Fragrance announced phenomena that could not be seen, heard, or touched but that were still tangibly sensed. Compared with the other senses, smell also possessed a unique mobility, crossing boundaries that were otherwise difficult to breach, including that between heaven and earth.”134

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For a general introduction to medieval senses, see Martin Roch, L’intelligence d’un sens: Odeurs miraculeuses et odorat dans l’Occident du haut Moyen Âge (Ve-VIIIe siècles) (Turnhout: Brepols, 2009); and the entire issue of the journal The Senses and Society 5, no. 1 (2010) dedicated to the Middle Ages and Renaissance. Jonathan Reinarz, Past Scents: Historical Perspectives on Smell (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2014), 19. For a history of smell in the Middle Ages, see Alain Corbin, The Foul and the Fragrant: Odour and the Social Imagination (London: Papermac, 1996); Simon Kemp, “A Medieval Controversy about Odor,” Journal of the History of the Behavorial Sciences 33 (1997): 211–19; Richard Palmer, “In Bad Odour: Smell and Its Significance in Medicine from Antiquity to the Seventeenth century,” in Medicine and the Five Senses, ed. William F. Bynum and Roy Porter (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 61–68; Martin Roch, L’intelligence d’un sens: Odeurs miraculeuses et odorat dans l’Occident du haut Moyen Âge (Ve-VIIIe siècles) (Turnhout: Brepols, 2009); Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, Parfums et odeurs au Moyen Âge: Science, usage, symboles, Actes du colloque de Louvain (mars 2012) (Florence: SISMEL Edizioni del Galluzzo, 2015); Katelynn Robinson, The Sense of Smell in the Middle Ages: A Source of Certainty (New York: Routledge, 2019). Reinarz, Past Scents, 19.

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98 l performing the papacy, performing the schism All medieval folk knew that there was an “odor of sanctity” that identified saints, and that sweet-smelling corpses “demonstrated the power of God to place mortals outside the seemingly universal decay of death.”135 Discussing the growing importance of smell in early medieval liturgy, Susan Harvey sees the emergence of “a lavishly olfactory piety” in the early Middle Ages, that she also labels “a piety of fragrance,” adding that Christians knew the “sweet fragrance of God.”136 Constance Classen refers to medieval Christianity as an “olfactory theology.”137 Smell’s liturgical attractiveness comes from its at once ephemeral and permanent nature. It vanishes quickly, but a whiff can propel one instantly into memories and feelings. Smell also transforms any profane location into sanctified, ceremonial space. Smell certainly found its place in Christian liturgy. Naturally, the papacy used this sense in its performance of legitimating authority. The evaluation of one object, the prestigious Golden Rose, attests to the performative quality of smell.138 Roses were used extensively in medieval Christianity. Linked to martyrdom, they symbolized a reward for some, or a means of mortification for others. Their meaning expanded throughout the Middle Ages. Red roses eventually signified the blood of martyrs, Christ’s suffering, and divine love. Rose petals fell on occasions to announce the Holy Ghost, and Paradise became a rose garden.139 The Golden Rose is first mentioned under the papacy of Alsatian Pope Leo IX (1049–1054). On April 18, 1049, the pope exempted the monastery of Heiligenkreuz from local episcopal jurisdiction. Founded by a relative of Leo, the monastery passed under his 135

Constance Classen, David Howes, and Anthony Synnott, Aroma: A Cultural History of Smell (London: Routledge, 1997), 53. On the “smell of sanctity,” see Jean-Pierre Albert, Odeurs de sainteté: La mythologie chrétienne des aromates (Paris: École des hautes études en sciences sociales, 1990). 136 See Susan Ashbrook Harvey, Scenting Salvation: Ancient Christianity and the Olfactory Imagination (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2006), 2; 91; 48. 137 Classen, Howes, and Synnott, Aroma: A Cultural History of Smell, 53. 138 See, on the history of the Rose, Carlo Cartari, La Rosa d’oro pontificia (Rome: Nella Stamperia della Reu. Camera Apostolica, 1681); Antonio Baldassarri, La rosa d’oro pontificia (Venice: Presso Andrea Poletti, 1709); Gaetano Moroni, Dizionario di erudizione storico-ecclesiastica da S. Pietro sino ai nostri giorni (Venice: Typ. Emiliana, 1852), 59: 111–49; Eugène Müntz, “Les roses d’or pontificales,” Revue de l’art chrétien 44 (1901): 1–11; P. M. J. Rock, “Golden Rose,” in The Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. 6 (New York: Robert Appleton Company, 1909), www.newadvent.org/cathen/06629a.htm (accessed on February 22, 2021); Elisabeth Cornides, Rose und Schwert im päpstlichen Zeremoniell von den Anfängen bis zum Pontifikat Gregors XIII (Vienna: Geyer, 1967); Charles Burns, Golden Rose and Blessed Swords: Papal Gifts to Scottish Monarchs (Glasgow: Burns, 1970); Mia Touw, “Roses in the Middle Ages,” Economic Botany 36, no. 1 (1982): 71–83; Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, The Pope’s Body (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000), 82–83; Charles Burns, “Golden Rose,” in The Papacy: An Encyclopedia, ed. Philippe Levillain (New York: Routledge, 2002), 1347–48; Marina Caffiero, “L’antico mistero della rosa d’oro: Usi, significati e trasformazioni di un rituale della corte di Roma tra Medioevo e età contemporanea,” in Le destin des rituels: Faire corps dans l’espace urbain, Italie-France-Allemagne/Il destino dei rituali: “Faire corps” nello spazio urbano, Italia-Francia-Germania, ed. Ilaria Taddei and Gilles Bertrand (Rome: École française de Rome, 2008), 41–72; Philippe Genequand, Une politique pontificale en temps de crise: Clément VII d’Avignon et les premières années du Grand Schisme d’Occident (1378–1394) (Basel: Schwabe, 2013), 223–24; Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, “Innocent III and the World of Symbols of the Papacy,” Journal of Medieval History 44, no. 3 (2018): 267–68; and Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, Le bestiaire du pape (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 2018), 223–29. 139 Touw, “Roses in the Middle Ages,” 75–77.

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The Golden Rose k 99 direct supervision. In return, its abbess promised the pope the gift of a rose, or its equivalent, made of gold, and weighing some two ounces. The object needed to be offered eight days before the fourth Sunday of Lent (Laetare Sunday).140 After its consecration on the latter day, the rose was offered to a lay prince; the first recorded is crusader Fulk of Anjou in 1096 Tours. Only laymen could receive the Rose; it was contrary to custom to offer it to an ecclesiastic.141 Ian Stuart Robinson makes the granting of the rose a pedagogical tool to impress papal authority on the recipient of the gift. As Fulk of Anjou stated on his ceremony, Urban II in full regalia “was crowned and led in solemn procession from the church of St. Maurice to the church of Martin, where he gave me the golden flower.”142 The papal crown carried the point home. When in Rome, the Rose went to the city’s prefect; when traveling, to the pope’s host. Alexander III offered it to Louis VII of France in 1163, and to the Doge of Venice in 1177.143 The rose was, like a crown, one of those objects that symbolized “theological-political transferences” and the “imperialisation of the church,” to use Ernst Kantorowicz’ terminology.144 The rose was tied to the political relations developed by the pope. Sometimes, he created scandal by offering it to an unexpected beneficiary. Urban V shocked his court when he handed it to a woman, Queen Joanna of Naples, rather than crusader Peter of Lusignan, King of Cyprus; because for the pope, Naples preceded Cyprus.145 As Marina Caffiero aptly notes, the rose was a sign of obedience. First, the pope received it as a sign of obedience. Consecrated by the pope, it was then passed on to someone who in return would promise obedience, service, and gratitude to the pope. In essence, the rose defined masculine feudal relations.146 Caffiero also underscores the consecration of the object on the fourth Sunday Laetare of Lent. This act was essential. The gift did not exist without it. The rose symbolized thorns and beauty, the sadness and joy of Easter, and the changing of liturgical colors on that day, from violet to rose/pink.147 By 1140/1143, the Ordo Romanus XI mentions the presence of musk in the rose during its benediction at the Church of Santa Croce in Jerusalem on the last Sunday of Lent (in Laetare).148 Musk is the rarest and most prestigious of all perfumes. It is pungent and can be diluted hundreds of times without losing its fragrance.149 In some instances, it could at once sanctify and hide the stench of decay. According to Ulrich Richenthal, the cardinal of Florence (Francesco Zabarella) died in Constance on September 26, 1417, shortly after the 140

Paravicini Bagliani, Le bestiaire du pape, 225. The camerlengo François de Conzié, in his late medieval ceremonial, notes “quia rosa non consuevit dari religiosis nec ecclesiasticis.” See Dykmans, Cérémonial-Conzié, 3: 357. 142 Ian Stuart Robinson, The Papacy 1073–1198: Continuity and Innovation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), 22. 143 Robinson, The Papacy 1073–1198, 22. 144 See Montserrat Herrero, “Acclamations: A Theological-Political Topic in the Crossed Dialogue between Erik Peterson, Ernst H. Kantorowicz and Carl Schmitt,” History of European Ideas 45, no. 7 (2019): 1045–57; and Ernst H. Kantorowicz, Laudes Regiae: A Study in Liturgical Acclamations and Mediaeval Ruler Worship, with a Study of the Music of the Laudes and Musical Transcriptions (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1946). 145 Rollo-Koster, Avignon and Its Papacy, 125. 146 Caffiero, “L’antico mistero della rosa d’oro,” 44. 147 Caffiero, “L’antico mistero della rosa d’oro,” 45–46. 148 Caffiero, “L’antico mistero della rosa d’oro,” 46; and Paravicini Bagliani, Le bestiaire du pape, 225. 149 Paravicini Bagliani, Le bestiaire du pape, 224. 141

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100 l performing the papacy, performing the schism grand obsequies of the Cardinal of Salisbury on the 13th. Richenthal adds that while not as elaborate as Salisbury’s, Florence’s obsequies were impressive. He adds, “Before they buried him, they laid him in musk in an oak coffin and so buried him. Then after fourteen days they took him out again and carried him back to his own land, to Florence.”150 We need to ponder the role of this musk bath. Did it hide the stench of decay? Did it consecrate the body? I would surmise that it did both. The utilization of musk linked the sacred to the profane. Censius’s ceremonial, the Ordo Romanus XII (1192), adds that the Golden Rose was perfumed with musk and balsam (rosam auream cum muschio et balsamo).151 Incense and balsam had made their place in Christian liturgy.152 Incense became the favored medium to link the profane to the divine. For example, its use became mandatory in funerary liturgy. Balsam was also used during funerals. For example, when Ulrich Richenthal discusses the funeral of the cardinal of Bari in October 1415, he addresses its use quite candidly and states, “They carried the dead cardinal to the Preachers’ monastery, and he laid there unburied until the third day. On the third day, they buried him in the choir, on the left side, in a coffin of carved oak, putting much balsam in it against the bad odor.”153 Still, and more importantly, mixed with olive oil, balsam transformed into the holy chrism of consecration, becoming the symbol of the Holy Ghost’s “presence.” It is worthwhile to pause here and reflect on the rose’s fragrance. It smelled like chrism and musk. The smell of chrism carried a powerful association with the political “Chrismation” (consecration) of a Holy Roman emperor, which was constitutive of his authority.154 Musk was defined as the “aroma of Christ” that was given to the pope on his enthronement.155 Jacopo Stefaneschi’s first mention of musk occurs during descriptions of the Roman papal elevation ceremonies. Then, in front of the Lateran’s portico, while sitting on one chair, the pope received the Lateran keys and the papal ferula. He returned them to the prior of St. Laurence outside the Walls and then sat in the other chair, while the prior strapped a belt of red silk around the pope’s waist, on which hung the purple purse, which contained twelve seals made of precious stones and musk.156 Thus, the Rose’s fragrance memorialized at once imperial and papal apogees.

150 151 152

153 154

155 156

The Council of Constance, 160. Paravicini Bagliani, Le bestiaire du pape, 226. See, for a thorough discussion, Albert, Odeurs de sainteté; Jean-Louis Benoit, “Autour de l’odeur de sainteté, les parfums dans le monde chrétien,” IRIS (2012): 55–89; Constance Classen, David Howes, and Anthony Synnott. Aroma: A Cultural History of Smell (London: Routledge, 1997); Harvey, Scenting Salvation; Dolly Jørgensen, “The Medieval Sense of Smell, Stench, and Sanitation,” in Les cinq sens de la ville du Moyen Âge à nos jours, ed. Robert Beck, Ulrike Krampl, and Emmanuelle Retaillaud-Bajac (Tours: Presses universitaires François-Rabelais, 2013), 301–13; Annick Le Guérer, Scent: The Mysterious and Essential Powers of Smell (London: Kodansha International, 1993); Reinarz, Past Scents; Roch, L’intelligence d’un sens; and Christopher Michael Woolgar, The Senses in Late Medieval England (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2006). I used Louise Loomis’s translation of Richenthal’s chronicle in, The Council of Constance, 136. Walter Ullmann, The Carolingian Renaissance and the Idea of Kingship (London: Methuen, 1969), 73. In reference to 2 Cor. 2:15–16, see Paravicini Bagliani, The Pope’s Body, 43, 48. Dykmans, Cérémonial-Stefaneschi, 2: 322.

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The Golden Rose k 101 Innocent III, in one of his sermons on the Rose, reiterated that the Rose was made of gold, musk, and balsam; musk and gold fixed with balsam represented the three substances found in Jesus Christ: divinity, physicality, and soul.157 The Rose’s meaning was multilayered. By the mid-thirteenth century, the rose symbolized the Passion and Resurrection. For Honorius III, the triple nature of Christ found itself in the triple nature of the Rose: gold – the father and power; musk – the son and wisdom; and balsam – the Holy Spirit and love. As Marina Caffiero notes, the scents of the Rose took on a highly symbolic political connotation. Musk and balsam connected to the scent of chrism and unction, to the sacred and thaumaturgic, to the gold, musk, and balsam of Christ. Only the pope in plenitudo potestatis could handle, and grant, an object that blessed and sanctified.158 This liturgy of scent also propagated the idea that Christ, Christianity, and holiness were fragrant and, contrarily, that sin and evil stank. The Rose and its musk were closely knit with the office of pope. Physical and sensual fragrances defined the institutional, immaterial office. The fragrance of musk was present at the papal elevation and at his death during his embalming, when the pope’s throat was filled with cotton and spices, and his nostrils with musk.159 Even dead, the pope remained associated with this precious fragrance. Musk’s own duality (a strong scent, but still only a scent) reminded audiences of the duality of the papal office. The man/pope/institution, like the fragrance, was at once evanescent and eternal. Before giving the Rose away, the pope received it from his camerlengo, privately in his chamber, and he continuously held it during the consecration and benediction. All ceremonials emphasize the pope’s physical proximity to the Rose as a sign of both identities. Ordo XI (1140–1143) states that after singing mass in Rome’s Santa Croce, the pope preached on the meaning of the Rose while holding it in his hand.160 This continued in later ceremonials. Jacopo Stefaneschi, who composed his ordo between 1300 and his death in 1343, offers a snapshot of the Golden Rose ceremony before the departure for Avignon. Stefaneschi approached his task on two fronts: either he repeated previous scripts – the ordo of Gregory X (c. 1272–1273) or Cencio’s Liber Censuum (1198), for example, or he scripted what was in use at his time. For the ceremonies surrounding the Rose, Cencio was his backbone. Before Avignon, the Rose’s benediction entailed the pope’s reception of the Rose at the Laterano from the camerlengo’s hand. There he bathed it with balsam and musk. Holding it in his hand, he cavalcaded to Santa Croce, where it was blessed; he then rode back. Mounting and dismounting, the pope was assisted by the prefect of Rome who was holding the papal horse’s bridle. The prefect wore red or purple, with one shoe gold, and the other red. The pope handed him the Rose while dismounting.161 Note the color 157

Jacques Lenfant, Histoire du Concile de Constance: Par Jacques Lenfant. Nouvelle edition, enrichie de portraits, revuë, corrigée, & augmentée considérablement par l’auteur, 2 vols. (Amsterdam: Chez Pierre Humbert, 1727), 2: 226. 158 Caffiero, “L’antico mistero della rosa d’oro,” 52, 54. 159 “Guttur vero impletur de aromatibus et speciebus cum bumbasio, et etiam nares cum musqueto.” See Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 219. 160 For Paravicini Bagliani, Innocent III associated Christ and the Rose with his office. See Paravicini Bagliani, The Pope’s Body, 82–83 161 Dykmans, Cérémonial-Stefaneschi, 2: 360–61. Cartari, La Rosa d’oro pontificia, 165–73; and Caffiero, “L’antico mistero della rosa d’oro,” 46 add that the prefect kissed the pope’s foot and in return the pope kissed the prefect on the mouth, with the “osculum oris.” But this does not appear in Stefaneschi.

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102 l performing the papacy, performing the schism symbolism of the prefect: he wore the imperial and papal purple, and the papal gold. The gift united Rome’s political – the prefect – and the spiritual – the pope – both in tones of red, purple, and gold. In sum, no other Christian object – maybe with the exception of a crown, which did not smell divine – could have carried such powerful symbolism, at once a symbol of sublimation and utter submission. The departure from Rome to Avignon changed tradition. In the absence of a Roman prefect, the Rose became a diplomatic tool. Agostino Paravicini Bagliani demonstrates how the granting of the Rose defined in Avignon a new Euro-centrist, and not Romancentered, geography.162 Its recipients came from all over Europe and were typically foreign to Rome and its surroundings, a trend that reversed precedents. Still, the Rose was always consecrated and blessed by the pope, within the papal palace in Avignon, and granted to a prince, who might be seen as politically useful at the time. More importantly, the granting of the Rose was deemed important enough to be scripted by the competitive obediences during the Schism. Both François de Conzié for the Clementists, and Pierre Ameil for the Ubanists, included it in their ordines.163 Writing for the Clementist obedience, François de Conzié largely follows Stefaneschi’s ordo. On Rose Sunday, the pope exited his chamber for the chapel wearing his red mantle and solemn miter. In his hand, he carried the Rose, scented with balsam and musk, which the camerlengo had brought to his chamber. The pope kept the Rose in his hand during mass and the sermon (not preached by him), except during the Elevation. The pope then went to the chair near the altar. While genuflecting, he handed the Rose to his assisting cardinal-deacon, who stood on his left. He received the Rose back on standing. When taking and giving the Rose back, the cardinal-deacon kissed the pope’s hand. After mass, the pope returned to his chamber, accompanied by the nobles present at court. There, in his chamber, the pope granted the Rose to whomever he had chosen (dat ipse dominus papa rosam nobili viro, de quo ei placuerit). The beneficiary kissed the pope’s foot – a gesture of obedience and devotion, and in turn the pope kissed his mouth. The receiver could then parade throughout town if he so chose. De Conzié reminds his audience that since Clement VI, tradition called for the granting of three to seven years of indulgences on that Sunday.164 Pierre Ameil reiterates the same script for the Urbanist obedience, with minor variations due to the Roman location of the court, and a closer attention to details. He initiates the rubric, reminding his audience that on the fourth Sunday of Lent (Dominica quarta quadragesime), also called Rose Sunday, or “Rejoice, O Jerusalem” (que vocatur de rosa, seu letare Ierusalem), a mass and sermon were required. First, the pope heard or officiated a low mass, presumably in his chapel. Ameil reminds his audience that if the pope preached, he needed to officiate the subsequent high mass. Low mass over, the pope returned to his Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, “Avignon, une autre Rome?,” in Images and Words in Exile: Avignon and Italy in the First Half of the Fourteenth Century (ca. 1310–1352), ed. Elisa Brilli, Laura Fenelli, and Gerhard Wolf (Florence: SISMEL-Edizioni del Galluzzo, 2015), 252. 163 Dykmans, Cérémonial-Conzié, 3: 73, suggests the date of 1390 for de Conzié’s composition, in preparation for the conclave that elected Benedict XIII. Ameil’s work cannot be dated precisely to a single year but belongs rather to the last thirty or so years of his life (c. 1370–c. 1401). See Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 25–36, 66. Both de Conzié and Ameil are discussed in detail in Chapter 5. 164 Dykmans, Cérémonial-Conzié, 3: 199–200. 162

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The Golden Rose k 103 chamber and readied himself for high mass. He wore the ornate miter of Lent (mitra aurifrisiata nobili sed non pretiosa). It is while still in his chamber that the pope received the Rose from his camerlengo, who genuflected and kissed the pope’s hands while presenting it. Ameil then notes that the sacrist brought the balsam and musk that he had received from the pope’s chamberlain, and the pope infused (infundat) the rose with the oils. If in Rome, the ceremonies continued with a mass at Santa Croce (less than one kilometer away, east of the Laterano); if elsewhere, in his chapel. The pope held the Rose in his left hand while proceeding and blessed attendants with the right. At the beginning of mass (with the Confiteor), the officiating pope handed the Rose to his cardinal-deacon standing on his left. A non-officiating pope held it, keeping it during his genuflection in front of the altar and the Elevation. Ameil then moves to a description of the mass. If the pope did not officiate and a king was present, the latter sat between the two first cardinal-bishops. If the pope celebrated, the king moved to a lower chair (without a stool), to the left of the pope, between the cardinal-chaplain (the bishops’ prior) and the sub-prior of the same bishops. The pope granted seven years of indulgence to his audience on that day if he did not sing mass. Note, foremost, the symbolism of placement that continuously exalted the pope. At the end of the mass, if in Rome, the pope returned to the Laterano (which is surprising since upon its return from Avignon the court settled at the Vaticano), or if not in Rome, to his chamber. He was eventually accompanied by all the nobles present at court. There, in his chamber or at the Laterano, he offered the Rose to the noble of his choice. The receiver knelt and kissed the papal foot, and in return the pope kissed the mouth of the honoree. Ameil again emphasizes the exalted position of the pope, adding that even a king had to kiss the papal foot (dato etiam quod esset rex). The cavalcade followed the ceremony, if the recipient wished to do so. Cardinals could join the cavalcade, but if a king or emperor returned to eat with the pope, the cavalcade followed the meal, involving only members of the emperor’s court.165 Ameil’s ending rubrics return to the old tradition of granting the Rose to the prefect of the city (prefectus Urbis) when in Rome. He mentions the arrival of the Rose at the Laterano, the night before ceremonies. The following day, the pope dismounted and offered the Rose to the prefect who held his bridle. The prefect wore purple and the red and gold shoes. The kisses of feet and mouth followed. The pope went up the Laterano’s stairs while the prefect left for a triumphal procession throughout the city. Cardinals did not accompany him. Ameil also adds that traditionally the pope said a few words on the Rose’s condition and properties: its color and sight brought pleasure, and its smell strengthened (debet dicere aliqa verba brevia de conditionibus et proprietatibus rose, quia habet colorem gaudiosum, odorem confortativum, aspectum letificum): words that copied Durandus, Rationale divinorum officiorum.166 Ameil ends his rubric with a statement that on March 16, 1393, the mass and sermon took place in the Great Chapel in Perugia in the presence of all cardinals without the pope, who was ill. The Rose stood on the altar during mass and was returned to the pope’s chamber afterward. He then gave it away. These ceremonials demonstrate how the pope’s intimacy with the “aroma of Christ” was shared with others only through the Golden Rose. They also underscore the physical

165 166

Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 111–13. Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 113.

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104 l performing the papacy, performing the schism closeness between Rose and pope. It seems actually surprising that such a precious, personal gift was passed willingly to someone else, and to a layman at that – granted, theoretically to the best of laymen, but someone bound to the World nonetheless. This is one occasion when the pope, like Christ, shared his bounty. The object’s consecration defined it and allowed its “passing” into other hands. As we have seen, the granting of the Rose could not exist without its consecration. As such, the pope transformed and gave life to a powerful object that took a life of its own. Only consecrated, thus alive, could it be transferred to an agent of the “lesser world.” Such a powerful object could not move freely outside the realm of the religious without an “authorizing” or “liberating” agent. It is this blessing that allowed its circulation outside the pope’s aura. The Rose’s consecration allowed the object to shield or protect its owner and also to be protected from him. Table 2 shows the object’s recipients according to information gathered in my reading of the Vatican registers’ Introitus et Exitus, Eugène Müntz’s “Les roses d’or pontificales,” and Marc Dykmans’s edition of both Pierre Ameil’s and François de Conzié’s ceremonials. Table 2 demonstrates how the gift of the Rose defined the ebb and flow of papal politics, listing first the Avignon papacy, followed by the Urbanist obedience, with the Clementist obedience last. The Rose rewarded lords and princes from France, Germany, Italy, and other places, who demonstrated their utility to the Avignon popes and, during the Schism, the popes of either obedience. The value of the Rose could be increased with the addition of precious jewels, rubies, garnets, or pearls. A sapphire usually adorned the piece, its size varying with the “quality” of the recipient. For example, in March 1382, Clement VII offered the Rose to Louis of Anjou who was in Avignon at the time, preparing for his Neapolitan expedition. The king paraded with it throughout the city. The apostolic chamber’s registers keep records of the expenses incurred for that Rose (for its gold and jewels, including a large sapphire) paid to Catalanus de la Rocha.167 The event legitimized Louis’s actions in the eyes of locals, and throughout France, as well as the pope’s legitimacy in attempting to reconquer Naples. Nonetheless, Jean Le Fèvre does not overly emphasize it, simply offering a laconic “Dimenche jour de Miquaresme, monseigneur eust la rose et chevaucha par la vile.” (On Quaresma’s Sunday monseigneur received the Rose, and he rode throughout the city).168 A few years later, on April 1, 1397, Benedict XIII sealed his alliance with King Martín of Aragon by offering him the Rose. That specific Rose was supposedly worth 4,000 francs, an enormous sum.169 The chronicler Martin de Alpartil adds that Benedict supplemented the king’s reward with precious pieces of the cross.170 It seems that the gift of the Rose did 167

AAV, IE, 355, fol. 81. Le Fèvre, Journal de Jean le Fèvre, 25. According to the Chronicle of Giovanni Sercambi, in c. 1387 Lucca, Urban VI offered the Rose to an unnamed baron, ambassador of the emperor; thus cementing rapports between Holy Roman Empire and Urbanist obedience. See Giovanni Sercambi, Le croniche di Giovanni Sercambi Lucchese pubblicate sui manoscritti originali a cura di Salvatore Bongi (Lucca: Tipografia Giusti, 1892), 255. Lacking more details, I did not include this information in Table 2, since the date and name are uncertain. 169 Patrick Gautier Dalché, Marie Rose Bonnet, and Philippe Rigaud, eds., Bertrand Boysset: Chronique (Turnhout, Belgium: Brepols, 2018), 97. 170 Martin de Alpartil, Cronica actitatorum temporibus Benedicti XIII Pape, ed. and trans. Jose Angel Sesma Mufioz and Maria del Mar Agudo Romeo (Zaragoza: Centro de Documentación Bibliográfica Aragonesa, 1994), 25. 168

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Table 2 Granting of the Golden Rose between 1318 and 1414 ASV

Register #

Folio #

k 105

Year

Payment to

Rose for

Other sources

1318

Richo Corboli

? with sapphire

Müntz, 8

1320

Jaufre Isnard

? with sapphire

Müntz, 8

1323

?

Amedeus V of Savoy

Müntz, 8

1324

?

Henri de Souillac

Müntz, 8

1325

?

Aymar de Poitiers, Count of Valentinois, with 3 sapphires

Müntz, 8

1326

?

Count of Comminges

Müntz, 8

1328

Domenico di Jacopo

Henri de Boeto, German Lord, with 1 sapphire and 2 garnets

Müntz, 8

1329

Domenico di Jacopo

Count of Comminges with sapphire

Müntz, 8

1330

?

Count of Nimburg

Müntz, 8

1331

?

Henri de Boeto, German Lord

Müntz, 8

1332

?

Lord of Avaugourt

Müntz, 8

1334

?

Louis of Poitiers

Müntz, 8

1335/1336

Domenico di Jacopo

Louis of Bourbon

Müntz, 8

1338

Domenico di Jacopo

Stefano Colonna

Müntz, 8

1341

Domenico di Jacopo

Knight of King of Portugal, with sapphire and 2 garnets

Müntz, 8

1342

Domenico di Jacopo

Count of Comminges

Müntz, 8

1346

Domenico di Jacopo

?

Müntz, 8

106 l

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Table 2 (cont.) ASV

Register #

Folio #

Year

Payment to

Rose for

Other sources

1347

Johanes Menuchii

?

Müntz, 8

1348

?

Louis of Hungary

Müntz, 8

?

Clement VI?

Count Gui VI of Forez

Müntz, 8

1353

Marco Landi

? With rubies and pearls

Müntz, 9

1360

?

Nicola Acciauoli, Sebeschal of Naples

Müntz, 9

1365

Giovanni Bartoli da Siena

?

Müntz, 9

1366

Giovanni Bartoli da Siena

?

Müntz, 9

1367

Giovanni Bartoli da Siena

?

Müntz, 9

1368

Giovanni Bartoli da Siena

Joanna of Naples, with 3 sapphires

Müntz, 9

1369

?

? Granted at St. Peter in Rome

Müntz, 9

1372

Giovanni Bartoli da Siena

? With sapphire and 2 pearls

Müntz, 9

1374

Giovanni Bartoli da Siena

? With sapphire and 2 garnets

Müntz, 9

1375

Giovanni Bartoli da Siena

Son of Duke of Adria

Müntz, 9

1376

Giovanni Bartoli da Siena

Viscount of "Villamuro"

Müntz, 9

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ASV

IE351

48

1389

?

Urban VI to Ramondo Orsini

Müntz, 9

1391

?

Boniface IX to Alberto d'Este

Müntz, 9

1393

?

Boniface IX to Astoree da Bagnacavallo, or de Faenza

Müntz, 9; Dykmans, Ameil, 243

1398

?

Boniface IX to Ugolino Trinci da Foligno

Müntz, 9

?

?

Boniface IX to Benuttino Cima da Cingoli

Müntz, 9

1379

?

2 roses for ?

Müntz, 9

1380

?

?

?

ASV

IE354

91

4/1381

Catalanus della Rocca

with sapphires and garnets

Müntz, 9

ASV

IE355

81, 96

3/1382

Catalanus della Rocca

King of Armenia, with sapphires and garnets

Müntz, 10

ASV

IE356

86

4/1382

Catalanus della Rocca

King of Armenia, with sapphires and garnets

1383

Giovanni di Bartolo

King of Armenia

1384

?

?

ASV

IE359

96v, 104v

1385

Johannes Bartoli da Siena

Johannes de Serve, relative of Prefect of Rome (consanguineo)

ASV

IE360

86, 92v

1386

Johannes Maurini, silversmith

Duke of Brunswick

ASV

IE362

83v, 96v

1/1387

Johannes Maurini, silversmith

?Count of Orange in Anagni

1388

?

? ? 2 perforated boxes to put rose in

k 107

ASV

IE 365

129

1389

Johannes de Cabilone

ASV

IE366

218

11/1389

? expenses for rose

Müntz, 10

Müntz, 10

Müntz, 10

Müntz, 10

108 l

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Table 2 (cont.) ASV

Register #

Folio #

Year

Payment to

Rose for

Other sources

ASV

IE367

116

1390

Catalanus della Rocca

Duke of Berry with sapphire and 2 rubies

Müntz, 10

ASV

IE368

98

3/1391

Catalanus della Rocca

Duke of Berry with sapphire and 2 rubies

1392

?

?

8/1393

Catalanus della Rocca

Infant of Portugal

1394

?

Infant of Portugal

1395

Johannes silversmith

?

1396

Johannes Maurini

?

Müntz, 10

1397

Tomaso de Podio

Maybe for King Martin of Aragon

Müntz, 10

1398

Johannes Maurini

?

Müntz, 10

1405

?

Boucicaut, in Genoa at the time. With 3 sapphires and 6 rubies

Müntz, 10–11

1406

?

Sclavus d'Asperch

Dykman, Conzié, 93, 357

1407

?

Anthonio de Cardona

Dykman, Conzié, 107, 402

1408

?

Jacobo de Pradis

Dykman, Conzié, 407

1413

Guietio Jaubiol

Jean de Ixar

Dykman, Conzié, 85

1414

Guietio Jaubiol

Didaco Luppi de Aztuenyga

Dykman, Conzié, 85

ASV

ASV

ASV

ASV

ASV

IE370

IE372

IE374

IE376

Reg.Aven. 344

43

45v

85

166v

194, 196

Müntz, 10

The Golden Rose k 109

Illustration 2 Ulrich Richenthal, Das Konzil Zu Konstanz, fol. 38v. Emperor Sigismund parading the Golden Rose, c. 1464. Photo courtesy of the author

not preclude the granting of additional precious wares. When Benedict offered the Rose to Marshall Boucicaut in 1405, he added a water pitcher made of gold.171 The Rose was also granted on two occasions to the same person, the champion of the end of the Schism, Emperor Sigismund. Ulrich Richenthal’s chronicle of the Council of Constance narrates the two events. For the first iteration of the gift at mid-Lent 1415, Ulrich describes the mass of consecration sung by the pope at the cathedral and the direct handling of the Rose from the pope to the king. The Rose literally went from the hand of the pope to the hand of the king. Richenthal insists on this sensual, tactile aspect. He also underscores how Sigismund held the Rose high for all to see, with a golden cloth in his hand, while he cavalcaded throughout the city. Noises – “they blew and whistled” – attracted attention to the parade. Returning to the cathedral, Sigismund set the Rose on the high altar, as an offering to “Our Lady.”172 The illustrations attached to Richenthal’s various iterations of his Chronicle, often detail this lively procession (see Illustration 2). 171 172

AAV, IE, 376 (1404–5), fol. 166v. Monika Küble and Henry Gerlach, Augenzeuge des Konstanzer Konzils: Die Chronik des Ulrich Richental (Darmstadt: Konrad Theiss Verlag, 2014), 73–74; and The Council of Constance, 112–13, offer the same translation.

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110 l performing the papacy, performing the schism Musk being quite pungent, one wonders if the one in attendance could actually smell, or at least sniff its fragrance when the Rose iterated throughout the city. There is little doubt though that the spectacle offered by the parade imprinted the audience with the sacredness of the Rose holder and perhaps allowed partaking in its salvific fragrance – even if we consider that medieval streets were somewhat pungent. For the March 6, 1418, celebration, the pope again consecrated the Rose. He then blessed the attending crowd, which, according to Richenthal, was huge (150,000 people, with many foreigners) from the Upper Münsterhof. Richenthal is shocked that no one was crushed to death during the affair. Then the pope sent the Rose with the margrave of Brandenburg to the king, who was at the time lying in bed indisposed at the Augustinian friary. The margrave arrived at the convent, accompanied by the high clergy and a multitude, to the sound of trombones and pipers. There, Sigismund received the Rose with “great honor.”173 Note the anthropomorphization of the object, which, Richenthal highlighted, was uncovered and “escorted.” “The Margrave carried the rose uncovered in his hand from the palace to the Augustinians, and all the cardinals, archbishops, and bishops rode with him, with all the trumpeters, princes, knights, squires, and prelates opening the parade. The trumpeters competed with one another.”174 The French Protestant Jacques Lenfant offers a different iteration of this same narrative, evidence that propaganda could easily be read into the granting of the Rose. In the first ceremony, he relies on Hermann von der Hardt’s narrative of the Council of Constance. According to Lenfant, on March 10, 1415, Pope John XXIII attempted to ingratiate himself to the emperor with the gift of the Rose. Sigismund accepted the Rose with due honors and paraded with it throughout Constance.175 For the second occurrence, Lenfant, reading Ulrich Richenthal, offers an interesting take on the granting of the Rose that took place on March 6, 1418. Lenfant notes that Martin V, like his predecessor John XXIII, stroked King Sigismund’s ego with the Rose. Lenfant labels the Rose a vain glorious present, like the many other gifts Sigismund received. Lenfant transforms the Rose into an expensive toy meant to flatter and appease. In 1418, after Martin consecrated the Rose, a large crowd, including all the high dignitaries of the papal court and common folks, accompanied it as it was brought to Sigismund under a canopy. The granting of this precious object hit a ritual snag when the Rose arrived while the king still laid in bed – with no mention that the king was sick. Sigismund quickly set himself on a throne to “receive” the object with the dignity it required. We can see in these details a sort of reversal of fortune: the Rose is anthropomorphized, traveling under a canopy, and the king lays in bed scrambling to regain his composure.176 The details show how easily the reading of ritual can be altered to fit the needs of a narrator. To conclude, this chapter has focused on the various events that allowed popes to perform their authority and legitimacy, before and during the Schism. Bureaucracy, bullae, liturgy, the feast days of the presentation and Visitation, and the granting of the Golden Rose enhanced papal prestige and demonstrated how the religious and the political not only mixed well in the Middle Ages, but most of all were experienced with all bodily senses. This physicality gave the performance a memory print that served authority because legitimacy was viewed, heard, touched, tasted, and smelled. 173

Küble, and Gerlach, Augenzeuge des Konstanzer Konzils: Die Chronik des Ulrich Richental, 181–82; The Council of Constance, 177. 174 The Council of Constance, 177. 175 Lenfant, Histoire du Concile de Constance, 1: 118. 176 Lenfant, Histoire du Concile de Constance, 2: 225–26. https://doi.org/10.1017/9781316717691.003

3 Images and Responses Antonio Baldana’s de magno Schismate, Ulrich Richenthal’s Chronicle, and the Apocalypse Tapestry of Angers C HAPTER 2 focused on the performance of the papacy, sometimes outside but still generally within the timeframe of the Schism, the present chapter aims at recovering papal performances’ reception from audiences, largely during the Schism. This chapter will focus specifically on three visual examples: the beautifully illustrated chronicles of Antonio Baldana and Ulrich Richenthal, and the magnificent Apocalypse Tapestry of Angers, all vibrant in design and color. These three sources link images with texts, the reception of which modern literary scholars define as “performative reading.” Bringing together some of the theories defined by various literary theorists, this chapter offers a “performative” reading of texts and objects created contemporaneously with the Schism. This methodology allows us an entry into the construction, audience, and reception of papal performances during the Schism. Discussing the Jour du Jugement, a mystery play depicting the birth and death of the Antichrist, Karlyn Griffith locates the markers where drama, manuscript structure, narrator, audience, and performance intersected. She suggests that medieval readers of a manuscript could simulate the experience of an audience watching a liturgical play. A text could encourage “performative reception” with words that often rhymed, music, and images depicting costumes, gestures, and mimics. All of this created the impression of a multimedia performance, where a reader could “feel” the manuscript with all her senses; reading became watching or viewing. For Griffith, the mise-en-page of images and text can be intrinsically performative. She has recently highlighted how medieval readers “engaged with manuscripts on sensory levels.”1 The use of brilliant colors, turning pages, the placement of bodies and gestures in images, and the presence of musical annotations, all communicated performance as well as a sensorial reception. This concept of performative reading was further articulated by Claire Sponsler.

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Karlyn Griffith, “Performative Reading and Receiving a Performance of the Jour du Jugement in MS Besançon 579,” Comparative Drama 45 (2011): 105–6.

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112 l images and responses Sponsler argues that essentially all reading, and to a certain extent all visual representations, have performative qualities. However, certain documents of the Great Western Schism provide opportune examples: contemporary texts such as Antonio Baldana’s De magno Schismate and the chronicle of Ulrich Richenthal, various prophetic Vaticinia de summis pontificibus or Vaticinia sive prophetiae et imagines summorum Pontificum, and contemporary editions of Honoré Bovet’s L’arbre des batailles.2 These texts could be viewed, according to Sponsler’s definitions, as “performative.” They wove usually engaging, lively images with text and led their readers, or viewers, toward a sensorial experience of what they were expressing or representing. As Sponsler states: While written texts have been the chief form of apprehension of past performance practices, visual images offer a reminder of what writing cannot capture. Looking at paintings and drawings for their connection with performance expands the body of historical evidence for the study of medieval performance, but it also complicates that evidence, since as a technology for recording performance, visual images both conceal and reveal.3

In a certain sense, the following will attempt to reconstruct how people understood papacy from its performance, as well as representation of this performance in literature and art. In The Queen’s Dumbshows: John Lydgate and the Making of Early Theater, Sponsler identifies the link between ritual or ritual-like actions such as processions and banquets, and theatre-like, dramatic, or quasi-dramatic forms.4 But most of all, her discussion of “Performing Pictures” adds to Griffith’s sensorial reading and can open new paths for our understanding of works produced during the Schism and their relationship to papal legitimation.5 Sponsler identifies obvious spectacles and ceremonies – easily recognizable forms of medieval visual displays used to communicate with audiences – along with less evident examples such as wall paintings, tapestries, and poetic verses. Arguing for a reading that underscores “interactive and performative modes of looking,” she debunks the passive idea of looking “at.” Using a rich historiography, she demonstrates how medieval looking

On the Vaticinia de summis pontificibus see, Hélène Millet, “Il Libro delle immagini dei papi”: Storia di un testo profetico medievale (Rome: Viella, 2002); Les successeurs du pape aux ours: Histoire d’un livre prophétique médiéval illustré (Vaticinia de summis pontificibus) (Turnhout: Brepols, 2004). Regarding Honoré Bovet, see Honoré Bouvet, L’arbre des batailles, ed. Reinhilt Richter-Bergmeier (Genève: Droz, 2017); Hélène Biu, “‘L’Arbre des batailles d’Honorat Bovet: Étude de l’oeuvre et édition critique des textes français et Occitan,” PhD dissertation, Paris 4, 2004. Some of the original documents have been digitized by the Morgan Library and Museum, see, for example, the Vaticinia de summis pontificibus (MS M.272) dated c. 1465, at http://ica.themorgan.org/manuscript/ page/12/77500 (accessed on February 23, 2021); the Vaticinia sive prophetiae et imagines summorum pontificum (MS M.0402), dated c. 1390, is available at http://ica.themorgan.org/manuscript/page/1/ 113117 (accessed on February 23, 2021); and L’arbre des batailles (MS M.907), dated c. 1390 is available at http://ica.themorgan.org/manuscript/page/1/159926 (accessed on February 23, 2021). 3 Claire Sponsler, “Tracing Medieval Performance: The Visual Archive,” in Performance and Theatricality in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, ed. Mark Cruse (Turnhout: Brepols, 2018), 109. 4 Claire Sponsler, The Queen’s Dumbshows: John Lydgate and the Making of Early Theater (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2014). 5 Sponsler, The Queen’s Dumbshows, 67–97. 2

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Antonio Baldana’s de magno Schismate k 113 conflated with doing, and reading with imitating.6 The medieval act of looking involved more than a single physical sense; it involved a whole physical experience, which facilitated the internalization of the topics or ideas depicted. Sponsler points out ways historians studying these texts may tease out what audiences saw and felt, and how their authors presented the problem at hand. Sponsler’s depiction of what she labeled “visual poetry,” at the “crossroads of image and written text,” hit the mark for the Schism’s documents presently discussed. Baldana’s and Richenthal’s chronicles and the Angers tapestry were all multimedia, composed of words, frequently organized in a “declamatory” fashion, and attached to images that often led their viewers to a sensorial experience. In addition, many chronicles produced during the Schism contained musical annotations. Holding the illustrated texts produced near the end of the Schism to the same analytical scrutiny may reveal their authors’ understanding of the crisis, but also their expectations of how audiences understood papacy and the crisis. It may also reveal how the papacy constructed itself performatively. These multimedia documents shed light on how the Schism was constructed and performed, that is, read, recalled, played, presented, and represented. But the authors were also an audience, and their chronicles reflect what they perceived and thought. These works hold a triple bounty: they allow us to decipher how the papacy constructed itself around certain performances; they allow us to reach their creators’ rationale of the crisis; and they allow us to understand how authors engaged sensually with their audiences, depicting events that none had witnessed firsthand. In this chapter, we investigate how papal performance in two illustrated chronicles and a tapestry was internalized and possibly questioned. Seeing a pope in action, so to speak, in the chronicles’ images, we render what was seen or felt, implying from the author and audience some form of performative mimetism, or mimesis. The pope performed, the author (as available audience) understood, replicated, and transmitted this performance; it was then internalized by larger audiences. It should be noted that Renate Blumenfeld-Kosinski, in her 2006 Poets, Saints, and Visionaries of the Great Schism: 1378–1417, uses the language of performance, without naming it as such. On several occasions, she utilizes words such as “drama” and “dramatic” when discussing the crisis. Her interest, however, does not lie in how the Schism was performed, but rather in “the subjectivity of the people affected by the Great Schism as it manifests itself in texts and images, the only traces that remain of their thoughts.”7 My reading thus complements hers.

Antonio Baldana’s de magno Schismate

A

ntonio Baldana’s de magno Schismate is well-known, perhaps because of the exquisite quality of its illustrations.8 After Oddone Colonna (Pope Martin V) was elected sole

6

Sponsler, The Queen’s Dumbshows, 70. Blumenfeld-Kosinski, Poets, Saints, and Vision Poets, Saints, and Visionaries of the Great Schism (1378–1417) (University Park: Penn State University Press, 2006), 14. 8 On Antonio Baldana’s de magno Schismate, see Paola Guerrini, “Le illustrazioni nel de Magno Schismate di Antonio Baldana,” in Alle origini della nuova Roma: Martino V (1417–1431), ed. 7

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114 l images and responses new pope of Western Christendom on November 11, 1417, he opted to return the papacy to Rome, his family’s native grounds. It took him two years to reach his destination, spending some nineteen months in Florence, from February 1419 to September 1420. Inspired by this rare presence in his adoptive city, Antonio Baldana of Udine, a student of law in the city at that time (1419–1420), composed and dedicated to the newly elected pope a narrative of the Schism in a mixed-media work, at once chronicle, political propaganda, prophecy, myth, and astrological prediction, adding watercolors to his Latin and Italian prose and verses.9 Baldana eventually earned a Juris Doctor degree and joined the legal staff of Martin V and his successor.10 Only one copy remains of his exquisite work, located today at the Biblioteca Palatina in Parma (MS Parmense 1194). Baldana’s parchment manuscript is composed of three quires, totaling twenty-six folios. Folios 1–16v. compose a narrative of the Schism, ending on folio 16v. with the illustration of the submission of Baldassare Cossa to Martin V. Within this foliation, folio 14r. begins with an ode to Martin V decorated with a diagram of the universe; the ode continues to the end of the narrative on 16v. Folios 18r.–21v. copy Jean de Brogny’s sermon on the Feast of the Visitation, and today the manuscript ends with folio 17, a drawing of a zodiacal man.11 The work found its inspiration in various illustrated chronicles of the time and enigmatic papal prophecies that engaged current with future popes, for an eventual renovation of the Church.12 Antonio Baldana intended to offer Martin V something of a compendium on the Schism. After placing the blame for the Schism squarely on the cardinals’ shoulders in his opening page, the author depicts key moments in the history of the Schism: the papal elections of both obediences; the coronations of both Urban VI and Clement VII, and their respective courts and obediences; the election of Boniface IX; the Council of Pisa and the three popes (Alexander V in the middle with Benedict XIII and Gregory XII on either side); the departure of John XXIII from Bologna, and his entry into Rome; a view of Udine (Baldana’s home); Ladislaus of Naples’ encampment before Ostia and his entry into Rome; John XXIII’s escape to Florence; the meeting between the Milanese Filippo Maria Visconti and the captain Cabrino Fondulio; Sigismund and his meeting with John XXIII at Lodi (found in Ulrich Richenthal too); a first session of the Council of Constance and John XXIII’s escape; the escape of Benedict XIII and capture of John XXIII; another session of the Council of Constance; the deposition of John XXIII and three further sessions of the council; the election and coronation of Martin V; Martin’s entries into Geneva, Milan

Maria Chiabò, Giusi d’ Allessandro, Paola Piacentini, and Concetta Ranieri (Rome: Istituto Palazzo Borromini, 1992), 383–417; Paola Guerrini, Propaganda politica e profezie figurate nel tardo Medioevo (Napoli: Liguori, 1997); Renata Pieragostini, “Unexpected Contexts: Views of Music in a Narrative of the Great Schism,” Early Music History 25 (2006): 169–207. The manuscript is entirely digitized at www.librideipatriarchi.it/en/books/antonio-baldana-de-magno-schismate-1229/#datafancybox (accessed on February 23, 2021) 9 Pieragostini, “Unexpected Contexts,” 170. 10 He is attested in Udine later in his life, until his death in 1439. See Pieragostini, “Unexpected Contexts,” 173–74; in appendix 1, 203–5, Pieragostini describes the manuscript in detail. 11 See Guerrini, “Le illustrazioni nel de Magno Schismate di Antonio Baldana,” 383–417; Propaganda politica e profezie figurate; and Pieragostini, “Unexpected Contexts,” 169–207. Both authors describe the manuscript in detail. 12 Pieragostini, “Unexpected Contexts,” 176.

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Antonio Baldana’s de magno Schismate k 115 (with the consecration of the Duomo’s altar major), Mantua, and Florence; the arrival of Baldassare Cossa in Florence; and finally, Cossa’s submission to Martin V. More generally, we can note that Baldana presents Christianity in urban form, as a circular, walled city, with each obedience depicted in a half-circle, each anchored by a large church and separated from the next by a transversal path. The Council of Constance is also presented in circular form.13 Baldana’s preferred shape reminds us that he was a citydweller, and a student after all, who may inadvertently have brought his audience back to the shape of his classrooms. Baldana’s multimedia presentation of the Schism was similar to other medieval narratives that took on prophetic overtones, and that ultimately inspired him, especially in his obscure narrative. They have been studied by, among others, Hélène Millet, Paola Guerrini, and Renate Blumenfeld-Kosinski, who hinted at their performative qualities.14 As Paola Guerrini states, these texts’ success came from their convenient adaptation to time and circumstances.15 They originated at the end of the thirteenth century in a manuscript entitled, from its incipit, the Genus nequam. It was followed by a mid-fourteenth-century text, the Ascende calve. A third text, a juxtaposition of the previous two, was composed at the beginning of the fifteenth century and entitled Vaticinia de summis pontificibus. The two earlier documents were composed of fifteen “obscure” prophecies and illustrations that systematically presented a pope associated with animals, men, angels, and symbolic objects. The Vaticinia was composed of thirty images.16 Baldana’s stated aims were “to encompass almost every rhetorical style, illustrate almost every discipline, and serve all the senses; therefore the styles change throughout, and diagrams and illustrations are inserted.”17 He adds that “in these texts are to be found almost all styles of speech which are in use.”18 Note, however, something that Pieragostini neglects to emphasize: how Baldana himself insists on a sensual reception of his oeuvre, and 13

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15 16 17 18

Richard K. Emmerson, “On the Threshold of the Last Days: Negotiating Image and Word in the Apocalypse of Jean de Berry,” in Threshold of Medieval Visual Culture: Liminal Spaces, ed. Elina Gertsman and Jill Stevenson (Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 2012), 18, emphasizes the urban quality of Baldana’s representation of Christianity. See Marjorie Reeves, The Influence of Prophecy in the Later Middle Ages: A Study in Joachimism (Oxford: Clarendon press, 1969); Roberto Rusconi, L’attesa della fine: Crisi della società, profezia ed Apocalisse in Italia al tempo del grande scisma d’Occidente (1378–1417) (Rome: Istituto Storico Italiano per il Medio Evo, 1979); André Vauchez, “Les théologiens face aux prophéties à l’époque des papes d’Avignon et du Grand Schisme,” Mélanges de l’École française de Rome, moyen-âge 102 (1990): 577–88; Hélène Millet and Dominique Rigaux, “Ascende Calve: Quand l’historien joue au prophète,” Studi Medievali 33 (1992): 695–719; Guerrini, Propaganda politica e profezie figurate nel tardo Medioevo; Robert E. Lerner, “Illuminated Propaganda: The Origins of the ‘Ascende calve’ Pope Prophecies,” Journal of Medieval History 20 (1994): 157–91; Martha H. Fleming, ed., The Late Medieval Pope Prophecies: The Genus nequam Group (Tempe: Arizona Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies, 1999); Millet, “Il libro delle immagini dei papi;” Les successeurs du pape aux ours; Blumenfeld-Kosinski, Poets, Saints, and Visionaries of the Great Schism; and for the most recent, see Paola Guerrini, “Uso e riuso della profezia nel tardo Medioevo: Il caso dei Vaticinia de summis pontificibus,” in Église et État, Église ou État? Les clercs et la genèse de l’État moderne, ed. Christine Barralis (Paris: Publications de la Sorbonne, 2014), 391–415. Guerrini, “Uso e riuso della profezia,” 391–92. Guerrini, “Uso e riuso della profezia,” 391–92. Pieragostini, “Unexpected Contexts,” 179. I am using Renate Pieragostini’s translation. Pieragostini, “Unexpected Contexts,” 180.

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116 l images and responses hence of the Schism. He innately conceived his work for performative reciting, reading, and reception, involving, in his own words, all the senses. His assumption shows that for him “academic” reading was automatically “performed.” Baldana openly displays his intellectual aptitude by offering a discussion of the seven disciplines: grammar, dialectic, rhetoric, arithmetic, music, astrology, and philosophy.19 Thus, the work is also an ego-performance, we can assume in an attempt to garner a lucrative position. The seven disciplines are intended to showcase elocution and singing – thus geared toward performance. Even the 1419 sermon of Jean de Brogny celebrating the Feast of the Visitation, which ends his work, exemplifies not only a literary, but also a performative style – after all, a sermon is performed rather than plainly spoken. In general, to a modern reader, the work is affected, “sophisticated” to the point of opacity, and elitist if not pompous. It tells little about the author’s take on the crisis, with a few exceptions (in his first folio, for example). The first full drawing of Baldana’s manuscript has illustrated many publications concerning the Schism.20 It represents the Schism’s first act: the robbing of St. Peter’s keys by three mounted cardinals and their brutalization of the Church, here symbolized by a veiled virgin. The alignment of the three riders is reminiscent of the order of a papal cavalcade where cardinals rode side-by-side before the pope.21 Cardinals and pope wear the red mantles that symbolize their positions. The pope wears his triple crown and cardinals their red galeri. The papal throne is also covered with a red cloth. The illustration also makes it clear that the cardinals’ horses are white and covered with a red blanket, an attribute of the papacy. For Baldana, symbols such as keys, crowns, thrones, clothes, and colors identified the papacy and its acolytes. We can therefore assume that Baldana and his audience understood this mode of communication. This knowledge signifies that audiences learned through the papacy’s visual emphasis on external performance in its general communication. The pedagogical tools of the papacy – visual clues – had reached their aim. But further, Baldana insists on the cardinals’ responsibility in initiating the crisis. They usurped several attributes of the papacy, symbolized namely in its keys and colors. Laying the Schism’s responsibility squarely on the cardinals’ shoulders limited the author’s and his audience’s response. If performative reading implied “doing” and “internalizing,” Baldana’s audience understood that it was not the cause of the initiation of the crisis, and only a silent witness, a victim of the events. In short, Baldana’s opening statement absolves and exonerates Christianity – God cannot blame his audience, but he accuses the curia. He locates responsibility for the crisis at the “top.” Baldana’s rendition allowed his audience to feel the violence of the crisis through his images and text, to experience it sensually, but free of guilt. The Schism was something that most “felt” but could not, at this stage, “alter.” The first images also make quite clear that the crisis was understood in political rather than religious terms. Folio 2v. insists on the power relation between popes and their sacred

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Pieragostini, “Unexpected Contexts,” 179. Blumenfeld-Kosinski, Poets, Saints, and Visionaries, 5, 221, uses the folio to illustrate her discussion of the Schism. See it at www.librideipatriarchi.it/en/books/antonio-baldana-de-magno-schismate1229/#data-fancybox (accessed on February 23, 2021). I made it the cover of my Raiding Saint Peter. On medieval corteges, see, for example, Pascal Montaubin, “Pater urbis et orbis: Les cortèges pontificaux dans la rome médiévale (viii e–xiv e siècles),” Rivista di storia della Chiesa in Italia 63 (2009): 26–29.

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Antonio Baldana’s de magno Schismate k 117 Colleges in its representation of the dual coronation of Clement VII and Urban VI. Again, Baldana emphasizes the exteriority of the experience. This is something that no individual Christian could actively engage with. As Clement VII is crowned by his cardinal (usually the cardinal of Ostia), Urban VI caps cardinals that he has recently named. For Baldana, cardinals made the pope. And the pope, in turn, made cardinals; no one else intervened in the process. The author presents his audience with a vision of a papacy in which the oligarchic claims of the College have in fact won; there was no papacy without a cardinalate. Both institutions survived and fed on each other. A pope lacked agency and free hands. Baldana asserts the martial tendencies of Urban VI to physically fight for his throne (the via facti) in folio 3 r., representing him with a secular tiara and scepter while a woman, certainly Catherine of Siena, attempts to interest him in the papal triple tiara. She attempts to reorient him toward his true calling of a peaceful shepherd, to no avail. Two cardinals and a condottiere in full armor stand next to him. They emphasize Urban’s alterity from his true office. Folio 4v. represents Boniface IX on his throne, holding the symbol of France, the lily (a nod to his tentative rapprochement with Charles VI).22 Hands come forth from buildings’ windows, one on the forefront certainly the new reconstructed (by Boniface IX) Castel Sant’ Angelo (the Mole Adriana), while a bear (the Orso from the Orsini family) pushes forward black and white ewes, advancing to deposit olive branches at the pope’s feet. Here again, the pope is presented as manipulated by external forces (France and the Orsini).23 Incidentally, Paola Guerrini is correct in pointing to older Vaticinia as Baldana’s inspiration, especially in the opacity of his text and in some of his illustrations. The illustration of folio 4v. is indeed similar to a Vaticinia de summis pontificibus found at the Vatican Library.24 The next image on folio 6 r. leads us to the aftermath of the Council of Pisa.25 In the center of the drawing, Alexander V wears his triple crown and is identified as the rightful pope with the double keys of St. Peter floating above his head. He is also surrounded by a crowd of monastic faithful. Benedict XIII, standing on Alexander’s right, is ready to exit the picture, led by a dog (the presumed canus dei of the Dominicans). A faded crescent moon drawn at his feet reminds us that he was Papa Luna, from his name Pedro de Luna. Gregory XII exits the image on Alexander’s left, dressed as a monk, his faded triple crown at the foot of his double, a man wearing another triple crown, the ferula, and wings, in reference to Angelo Correr. Folio 7 r. identifies John XXIII, elected in Bologna, surrounded by his cardinals riding out of the city to travel to Rome.

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See it at www.librideipatriarchi.it/en/books/antonio-baldana-de-magno-schismate-1229/#data-fan cybox (accessed on February 23, 2021). On Castel Sant’Angelo’s restoration, see M. L. Madonna, “Censimento delle operazioni architettoniche e artistiche in occasione dei giubilei del 1390, del 1400 e del 1423,” in Roma 1300–1875: La città degli anni santi. Atlante, ed. M. Fagiolo and M. L. Madonna (Milan: Mondatori, 1985), 84–86; and Pio F. Pistilli, “‘Se tu vuoi mantenere lo Stato di Roma, acconzia Castiello S. Angelo.’ Bonifacio IX e il confezionamento della Mole Adriana a presidio urbano,” in La linea d’ombra: Roma 1378–1420, ed. Walter Angelelli and Serena Romano (Rome: Viella, 2019): 177–200. For a good image, see “Mole Adriana,” Piranesi in Rome, http://omeka.wellesley.edu/piranesi-rome/ items/show/326 (accessed on February 23, 2021). Guerrini, “Uso e riuso della profezia,” 411–12. See Parma, Biblioteca Palatina, ms. 1194, fol. 4v.; and Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Reg. Lat. 580, fol. 12v. See it at www.librideipatriarchi.it/en/books/antonio-baldana-de-magno-schismate-1229/#data-fan cybox (accessed on February 23, 2021).

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118 l images and responses In drawing after drawing, Baldana can only represent the public performative aspect of the papacy. While symbols, thrones, keys, horses, and cardinals are used to identify the popes in their public roles, none emphasize their liturgical or sacred facets. For the present purpose, it would be too time consuming to analyze each image in detail. The document is rich and has been evaluated by both Paola Guerrini and Renate Pieragostini. There is no need to repeat their fine analyses; we seek only to underscore the manuscript’s performative characteristics. Antonio Baldana used several narrative forms, from low to high style, Italian and Latin prose and poetry, and various styles of speech including the mixing of language to present “his” Schism. It is interesting to pause at the moments he chose to highlight, in order to investigate them within the frame of a performative methodology, something that neither Guerrini nor Pieragostini addresses. It can be suggested that Baldana’s scholarly and elitist audience guided his rendition. His Schism is above all a political affair. But is it because it was solely understood as such, a question of double election and the search for the legitimate ruler? Or is it solely political because the papacy performed itself as essentially a political entity? In the latter case, Baldana would have been simply documenting what had been inculcated in him. What can be advanced is that Baldana’s text does not mention lost sacraments or confused parishioners. Each obedience bows to its pope (for example, ewes bow at the feet of Boniface IX). His text offers a sense of chaos, especially with its multilingual tone and presentation. But it is ironically organized and controlled chaos. His text is anarchic in the way he uses various speech patterns, words, and languages, but Baldana expects his educated audience to follow it. A scholar can easily move from Italian to Latin, from rhetorical prose to poetry. Interestingly enough, Baldana represents the popes of all obediences wearing the white and gold triple crown and red cape. Their white horses are likewise covered in red, certainly a sign of their respective authority and legitimacy. For him, all popes (regardless of obedience) perform papacy accurately with adequate pageantry. This means that contemporaries did not judge the legitimacy of either obedience; they simply followed their own. Baldana does not display failed or reversed rituals. He is not judging his characters – higher authorities are in place to do just that – he simply adds Peter’s keys to all “his” popes. In his identification of popes, Baldana favors the institutional marker (the keys) over the office (the crown). On fol. 2r., cardinals steal the keys from the bride/church. On fol. 6r., representing the aftermath of the Council of Pisa, only the centrally positioned pope “wears” keys above his head, while his two acolytes, also crowned, respectively walk away eastward and westward. This poses an interesting question regarding the subjective understanding of Baldana and his audience: Which ceremonies made a pope after his election, the coronation (they are all triple-crowned) or the possesso of the Laterano? Since Martin V was staying in Florence while bound for Rome, his possession of the Laterano had yet to occur. Only then would it enshrine and legitimize his position as unique pope of a reunited Christianity. But this was an event to come, and Baldana’s prophetic appeal to his pope reassures him of his legitimate function. The Schism may have been envisioned as the beast of Revelation, but Baldana did not see it as the end of the world.26 Thinking heads, at work in the council’s scenes, prevailed.

26

On the association between Schism, beast, and Revelations, see Blumenfeld-Kosinski, Poets, Saints, and Visionaries of the Great Schism, 65–66, 71, 174.

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Antonio Baldana’s de magno Schismate k 119 Of some twenty-eight drawings, seven represent the Council of Constance (fols. 10v., 11, 12, 13r., and 14 r.). Baldana depicts council scenes somewhat like his cities, oval, maybe a symbol of urban universitas rather than divine order. The council is also set up as a university lecture hall, a world that the young author knew well. One can sense the agitation, or engagement, of the discussants by their movements. These discussions suggest that this is a human affair, politically motivated by human impulses and incentives such as jealousy – maybe the cardinals stealing St. Peter’s keys. But what stands out, on the left of the conciliar room, is the empty papal throne. Only in fol. 14r., after the election of Martin V, do we see the pope enthroned. Baldana’s legitimate popes are also easily recognizable with their external Eucharistic markers, a sign of Christian identity.27 In all cases in which the pope is not officiating, the Eucharistic association is spatial and not liturgical. During cavalcades, the Corpus Christi rides in a tabernacle on a white horse preceding the pope. The tabernacle, decorated with a cross on its top and mounted on a white horse, is easily recognizable in folio 10r., which depicts the encounter between John XXIII and Emperor Sigismund in Lodi, as well as in the depictions of Martin V’s entrance into Geneva (fol. 14v.) and Mantua (fol. 15v.). Baldana must have recognized John XXIII as legitimate pope since he is preceded by the Corpus Christi. According to Marc Dykmans, since the time of Pope Gregory XI, a new order regulated papal corteges: first the Corpus Christi, then the cross, the camerlengo, three cardinals, the extra white horses, the hat-carrier, and lastly the pope.28 The order aimed at a visual crescendo that emphasized the pope, who came last. Yet in Baldana’s drawing, the pope comes next to the Eucharist, slightly ahead of the cardinals. This presence identifies the sanctity of the pontiff and elevates his position vis-à-vis the cardinals, who had up to this time somewhat mismanaged papal precedence. Baldana also breaks expectations that a reader might have had of a humble pope riding a mule. In the majority of cases (eight versus two), his popes ride horses and not mules, identifiable by the length of their ears. Either way, the animals are always white with a red saddle cloth, regardless of obedience. Thus, Baldana adheres to symbolic proprieties. All popes, regardless of legitimacy, performed papacy by riding on white horses, draped with red saddle cloths. Baldana, however, breaks with social and cultural propriety in one instance. Folio 11v. illustrates the expulsion (deposition) of John XXIII, showing cardinals and others violently pushing the pope out of the meeting’s arena with a long baton. Visages are tense and there is a true sense of strain in this communal effort. John is drawn halfway tumbling down from the top of the wall. The image is stunning in its violence but also therapeutic. It shows the strength in unity that rendered the council victorious. In a certain sense, it is Baldana’s textual and graphic rendition that make the Schism a “crisis.” The opacity of the text and its symbolism is lightened by colorful drawings that bring life and light to the text. Only his true, educated audience could appreciate his rendition. For a general audience, the impact on the eyes of vibrant colors would have matched the near incomprehensibility of the text. They confused the mind, a confusion that matched the unnatural state of a double papacy and maybe the cacophony heard at the curia with multinational and multilingual officers. And yet the text is still performed and felt 27

28

See, for the recent discussion, Il Corpus Domini: Teologia, antropologia e politica, ed. Laura Andreani and Agostino Paravicini Bagliani (Florence: SISMEL, 2015). Dykmans, Cérémonial-Conzié, 3: 18.

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120 l images and responses sensually. One can hear the neighing of horses, the chatter of protagonists, feel the heat in the enclosure of the Council of Constance, the wind blowing on the standards, and smell the sea. Most of all, one can see and hear the music celebrating the election and coronation of Martin V. Renata Pieragostini is accurate in highlighting the entire manuscript for its connections “between rhetoric, astrology and music.”29 She suggests that Baldana’s audience was indeed the papal court.30 What is noticeable in Baldana’s presentation is that the popes are continually performing in public activities, and never purely liturgical, static, or introspective. With the exception of the five drawings representing the Council of Constance (fols. 11r.–v., 12 r.–v., and 13 r.), Baldana is literally offering a view that could be today qualified as “de-sanctified” or secular. This is evidence enough that contemporaries conceived the papacy in mundane, political terms. Antonio Baldana focused on what modern historians would call a political narrative of the Schism. He recalls the elections of the various popes and the alliances with secular authorities (rulers such as Sigismund and Ladislaus). Emphasis is put on all the obediences, as well as the councils of Pisa and Constance. Christianity is a city, and the Church a veiled virgin, who on the first page is despoiled of her keys by the cardinals (is the stealing of the keys her deflowering?) but who, at the end of the manuscript, rightfully marries her pope (Martin V). The manuscript could almost be read as a peculiar and yet familiar medieval romance. It touches on emotions. There are lovers broken apart (the Church/bride and her spouse/ Christ), ill-intentioned cardinals, and a monstrous Schism. The colors are gorgeous, vestments attractive to the eye, and a sense of movement articulates all of the drawings. The vividness and physicality of the characters is enticing. Horses are seen running, and popes have wings. Lambs, wolves, dogs, and bears bring a dose of familiarity and exoticism – like in the previously mentioned Vaticinia, popes are associated with animals. Red-clad cardinals mount exquisite white horses, while popes often gallop wildly on their steeds.31 The story is compelling and attractive. But again, as far away from theology as could be. Baldana impresses on his audience the theatrics of political power, not of religion. His ending papal image (fol. 16v.) is not really a show of unity, but of submission – Baldassare Cossa’s prostration at the feet of Martin V in Florence. For didactic purposes, Baldana guides his readers. The Urbanist and Pisan obediences are presented with keys above their popes’ heads. And Baldana of course praises the pope of Constance, Martin V – after all, he was looking for a job. Encounters between protagonists abound. They are most often represented in ritual settings, entries, and assemblies. This provides additional evidence that this is how a contemporary envisioned ecclesiastics’ behavior. Steps are calculated to impart a sense of direction – people being rejected move away, out of the picture’s frame. One also senses a close rapport with the natural world, as animals personify characters and events. The bear (orso) represents the Orsini family, while

29 30

31

Pieragostini, “Unexpected Contexts,” 170. In sum, an educated crowd, familiar with scholastic and polyphonic music. See Pieragostini, “Unexpected Contexts,” 196. On the association between riding and popes, see Jörg Traeger, Der reitende Papst. Ein Beitrag zur Ikonographie des Papsttums (Munich: Schnell & Steiner, 1970).

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Antonio Baldana’s de magno Schismate k 121 a newly elected Boniface IX receives branches from his flock of ewes – the Roman people (again something found in Vaticinia). The trumpets of folio 13 v. sound the end of the Schism with the wedding of the newly elected pope to his Church/bride. But Baldana, as Pieragostini suggests, also adds musical notations in his musical zodiacal man, fully depicted on folio 17. Here, a polyphony of male and female voices sings the end of the Schism.32 Baldana understood aurality, for his audience read, viewed, heard, and felt the text, internalizing the drama of the crisis, as well as its joyful resolution. It is evident that educated contemporaries associated unity with the harmony of music, an intrinsic part in discussions of the Schism and issues of legitimacy. As seen with the feasts of the Presentation and Visitation, liturgical music and drama belonged to the panoply of tools deployed by competing authorities to display legitimacy. It is interesting to note that the Feast of the Visitation also appears in Baldana’s oeuvre. A copy of a sermon made by Jean de Brogny is found on folios 18r.–21v. of the Parma’s manuscript. The sermon was pronounced in honor of the reconciliation between Baldassare Cossa (John XXIII) and Martin V. Neither Renate Pieragostini nor Paola Guerrini link it to the Feast of the Visitation, but the original compiler of the archival material did.33 The manuscript’s description in the old catalogue (HH1190) states that the sermon “oratio per unione” from Johanne de Brognaco sive Brogni took place for the Festa Visitationis. This event could only have taken place on July 2, 1419 (and not 1420), after Martin made Baldassare Cossa bishop of Frascati, since Cossa died in November 1419. This sermon in honor of the reconciliation between Martin and Baldassare Cossa/John XXIII also honored the latter’s recognition of the decisions taken by the Council of Constance; Cossa did not question Martin’s election.34 Here Baldana is displaying his skills and thoroughness in including all styles of speech, offering the example of a sermon to close his work. He adds, “in the final section the style of composing sermons is also inserted, so that absolutely nothing pertaining to the practice of elocution appears to have been overlooked in this work.”35 Showing off his skill, Baldana had used vulgar prose, vulgar meters (sonnets), literal prose that serves the sciences, rhetorical style, literal meters that serve tragedies, comedies and other genres, elegiac style, heroic style, multiform style, and canto. He does not state why he chose that particular sermon. The Urbanist Feast of the Visitation, celebrated on the day of papal reconciliation, legitimated the Urbanist obedience. Even today, the Urbanist obedience is recognized as legitimate over the Clementist. Its popes simply remained antipopes.

32

33

34

35

Pieragostini, “Unexpected Contexts,” 188–203. On music at the time of Constance, see Europäische Musikkultur im Kontext des Konstanzer Konzils, ed. Stefan Morent, Silke Leopold, and Joachim Steinheuer (Ostfildern: Jan Thorbecke Verlag, 2017). See Guerrini, “Le illustrazioni nel de Magno Schismate di Antonio Baldana,” 395; Propaganda politica e profezie figurate, 58; and Pieragostini, “Unexpected Contexts,” 171. Parma, Biblioteca Palatina, ms. 1194, fol., 18r., “Facto per dominum Balthassarrem actu recognitionis domini nostri in verum Ecclesie Primatem, et per consequens approbationis cuiuslibet actus Concilii; inducitur nunc dominus Vivariensis viçecançellarius, tamquam solus sancte ipsius Eclesie officialis, sermocinans in hec verba . . . Inc.: ‘Gaudeamus omnes in domino, diem festum celebrantes, sub honore Beatissime Marie Virginis.’” I used the translation of Pieragostini, “Unexpected Contexts,” 181.

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122 l images and responses

Ulrich Richenthal’s Chronicle

I

n a recent article, Paul Payan argues that, with the exception of depictions of funerals, late medieval illustrations shunned representing the features of ruling popes. In place of physical traits, artists chose heraldry to identify them. 36 Antonio Baldana’s (and the various Vaticinia’s) portrayals of the Schism, with their numerous representations of popes, including their facial features, serve as a counterpoint to Payan’s assertion. The same argument can be made of the 115 illustrations that adorn Ulrich Richenthal’s chronicle (c. 1350–1437).37 Many include popes with recognizable

36

37

Paul Payan, “Images du pouvoir pontifical dans les livres de Clément VII et Benoît XIII,” Cahiers de Fanjeaux 51 (2016): 110. Following Étienne Anheim, Payan rationalizes the trend with the socalled visual excess of Boniface VIII. Regarding the chronicle of Ulrich Richenthal (note that the “von,” does not appear in medieval documents), see Ulrich Richenthal, Chronik des Konstanzer Konzils 1414–1418 von Ulrich Richenthal, ed. Thomas Martin Buck (Ostfildern: J. Thorbecke, 2014). Buck has spent his career analyzing Richenthal’s writing and the Council. Working from the several editions still available today, Thomas Martin Buck offers the most complete rendering of the chronicle. See also his magisterial online edition, supported by Monumenta Germaniae Historica, at https://edition.mgh.de/001/html/ (accessed on February 23, 2021); and Thomas Martin Buck, “Von Konstanz über Aulendorf nach New York: Zur Text- und Rezeptionsgeschichte einer oberschwäbischen RichenthalHandschrift,” Schriften des Vereins für die Geschichte des Bodensees und seiner Umgebung 125 (2007): 3–19; “Zur Überlieferung der Konstanzer Konzilschronik Ulrich Richenthals,” Deutsches Archiv für Erforschung des Mittelalters 66 (2010): 93–108; Thomas Martin Buck and Herbert Kraume, Das Konstanzer Konzil: Kirchenpolitik – Weltgeschehen – Alltagsleben (Ostfildern: J. Thorbecke, 2013). See also Ulrich von Richenthal, Das Concilium So zu Constantz gehalten ist worden des jars do man zalt von der geburdt unsers erlösers MCCCCXIII Jar. (Meersburg: Hendel, 1936); Karl Küp, “The Illustrations for Ulrich von Richenthal’s Chronicle of the Council of Constance in Manuscripts and Books,” The Papers of the Bibliographical Society of America 34 (1940): 1–16; and “Ulrich von Richenthal’s Chronicle of the Council of Constance,” Bulletin of The New York Public Library 40 (1936): 303–20. Older editions of the chronicle are still valuable, see Ulrich Richenthal, Das Konzil Zu Konstanz, ed. Otto Feger (Starnberg: Josef Keller Verlag, 1964), 2 vols. The 1964 edition is a facsimile of Constance’s Rosgartenmuseum manuscript, dated roughly 1464. For a recent discussion of the chronicle within an urban context, see Jan Hirschbiegel and Gabriel Zeilinger, “Urban Space Divided? The Encounter of Civic and Courtly Spheres in Late Medieval Towns,” in Urban Space in the Middle Ages and the Early Modern Age, ed. Albrecht Classen (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2009), 481–503. Since 2014 celebrated the 600th anniversary of the council, it is not surprising that several concurrent editions of the chronicle were published. See, for example, Ulrich von Richenthal, Augenzeuge des Konstanzer Konzils: Die Chronik des Ulrich Richenthal: Die Konstanzer Handschrift / ins Neuhochdeutsche übersetzt von Monika Küble und Henry Gerlach; mit einem Nachwort von Jürgen Klöckler (Darmstadt: Konrad Theiss Verlag, 2014). An article and a dissertation are worth notice: Wilhelm Matthiessen, “Ulrich Richenthals Chronik des Konstanzer Konzils: Studien zur Behandlung eines universalen Großereignisses durch die bürgerliche Chronistik,” Annuarium Historiae Conciliorum 17 (1985): 71–191; and (1985): 323–455; and Gisela Wacker, “Ulrich Richenthals Chronik des Konstanzer Konzils und ihre Funktionalisierung im 15. und 16. Jahrhundert Aspekte zur Rekonstruktion der Urschrift und zu den Wirkungsabsichten der überlieferten Handschriften und Drucke,” PhD dissertation, Eberhard-Karls-Universität Tübingen, 2002. In the following, I will use Richenthal’s English translation produced by Louis Ropes Loomis, The Council of Constance: The Unification of the Church, ed. and trans. Louise Ropes Loomis, John Hines Mundy, and Kennerly M. Woody (New York: Columbia University Press, 1961), 84–199, henceforth, The Council of Constance.

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Ulrich Richenthal’s Chronicle k 123 physical features.38 It is possible that the Schism changed the artists’ and audiences’ perspectives. Before the Schism, respect for the sanctity of the papacy had prevented artists from clearly identifying the man behind the office. Instead, identifiers of the office – the pontifical regalia – dominated the scenes. But the Schism had revealed the weaknesses of men and thus somewhat desacralized the office, freeing inhibitions and allowing realistic representations of the man/pope. The Schism, with its papal “failures” allowed audiences to see the man behind the office. Yet Payan is correct in emphasizing heraldry: Richenthal’s chronicle counts some 837 vividly decorated coats of arms. Ulrich Richenthal was a bourgeois citizen of Constance who witnessed the council that took place in his city. His father Johannes was the city’s secretary, and the family lived near the Minster, Constance’s Cathedral, in what is today Wessenbergstraße. Ulrich wrote his chronicle shortly after the end of the council, when he must have been about fifty-five or sixty years old.39 Like Antonio Baldana, Richenthal felt the need to write a chronicle to illustrate his vision of the events he had just witnessed. Richenthal’s chronicle is an ego-performance. Richenthal states: For all this have I, Ulrich Richenthal, gathered, going from house to house, for I was a burgher at Constance, living at the Golden Hound, and I took note of what the spiritual and temporal lords told me when I questioned them. Herein also are the arms of the lords which they put up over their houses at Constance, as I was able to draw them.40

Richenthal promotes himself somewhat pompously, throwing into his narrative prestigious names to heighten his own importance. Discussing the meeting in Lodi between Sigismund and John XXIII, where he was not present, he notes, “Of all that took place at Lodi I, Ulrich Richenthal, was informed by my lord Count Eberhard of Nellenburg.”41 As such, it is not devoid of biases. In her dissertation, Gisela Wacker argues that it was Richenthal’s anti-clerical tone that guaranteed the success of his chronicle until well after the Lutheran Reformation. The text’s personal character, however, allows readers to perceive, through Richenthal’s eyes, how actors’ efforts at constructing and performing authority and legitimacy were received. Readers can deduce, for example, whether or not Richenthal agreed with those contemporary actors who were intent on ending the Schism and initiating ecclesiastical reforms.42 In contrast to Antonio Baldana’s sole manuscript, we have many iterations of Richenthal’s chronicle. Thomas Martin Buck, who has analyzed in depth its editorial tradition, cautions us. He underscores issues involving nineteen textual versions (sixteen 38

Given the impossibility of reproducing the document, I will refer interested readers to the digital collection at the New York Public Library available at https://digitalcollections.nypl.org/search/ index?utf8=%E2%9C%93&keywords=Richental# (accessed on February 23, 2021). 39 Wacker, “Ulrich Richenthals Chronik des Konstanzer Konzils,” 13. 40 The Council of Constance, 84. Hirschbiegel and Zeilinger, “Urban Space Divided,” 496–97, quote, “as a citizen and resident of Constance, I, Ulrich Richenthal, have assembled all of this. I have either directly witnessed or have been told of the reported events by clergy and by laymen.” 41 The Council of Constance, 86. 42 See, for example, the work of Phillip H. Stump, The Reforms of the Council of Constance (1414–1418) (Leiden: Brill, 1994).

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124 l images and responses manuscripts and three printed editions) ranging from roughly 1460 to the seventeenth century. No original autographed manuscript survives, and the various versions were not collated until his recent digital edition, organized around manuscript A (Aulendorf, now at the New York Public Library), K (the city of Constance’s manuscript, certainly the oldest iteration, also labeled Rosgarten), and G (the Monastery of St. George manuscript).43 The oldest version, the so-called Constance manuscript, would have been written a generation or so after the 1420s original. The original narrative was written in Latin, but later iterations used German. Hence, the text itself was edited. The so-called Constance manuscript, for example, does not refer to Richenthal as author, while the Aulendorf and Prague manuscripts do. Buck emphasizes that while the chronicle is the work of a single author, it represents Constance’s post-conciliar collective memory and culture. Looking at its glorious recent past made the city’s post-conciliar difficulties more bearable.44 Regardless of these variations, Richenthal’s chronicle can serve as an example of performances’ reception at the level of an entire city’s, and over time. The manuscripts epitomize the memory of the Church, of its council, and of its city. The same difficulties present in Richenthal’s narrative of the council plague its illustrations. It is of note that historians have by and large focused more closely on these illustrations than on the text itself.45 All versions, from oldest to most recent, contain more or less the following representations: the celebrations associated with Christmas 1414 in Constance with John XXIII and Sigismund in attendance; the pope’s night at the monastery of Kreuzlingen; his cart’s turnover during the crossing of the Alps; his entrance into Constance; city market scenes with butchers, fishmongers, and itinerant bakers; the canonization of Birgitta of Sweden; the pope’s distribution of blessed candles from a balcony at Candlemas; his granting of the Golden Rose to the emperor and the imperial parade; the pope blessing crowds; the arrest of Frederick of Austria who had facilitated the escape of John XXIII from the city, and his oath to bring the pope back; the Feast of Corpus Christi 1415, and its procession; the condemnation and execution of Jan Hus and Jerome of Prague; the Florentine herald and the celebrations of the feast of St. John in 1416; the dubbing of several knights, and various investitures, including the investiture of the Burgrave of Brandenbourg, Palatinate of Bavaria, and Archbishop of Nassau; the preparation and entry into conclave; the election of Martin V; his consecration and coronation, the papal mass, communion, and oaths of allegiance; the coronation cavalcade; the pope’s answer to petitions; the coronation of Sigismund; the visiting Orthodox clergy’s service; the funeral of Sigismund’s chancellor; and Sigismund’s dubbing of the mayor of Constance. Although his overall interests and aims differed from Antonio Baldana’s, Ulrich Richenthal met his contemporary’s vision. Like Baldana, his memorialization focused largely on external ceremonial aspects. This is what his audience wanted to see: evidence enough that for contemporaries, legitimacy and authority were communicated through ritualized protocol, either papal or monarchical.

43

44 45

See his online edition, supported by Monumenta Germaniae Historica, at https://edition.mgh.de/ 001/html/ (accessed on February 23, 2021). Buck, “Zur Überlieferung der Konstanzer Konzilschronik,” 93–108. See especially Wacker, “Ulrich Richenthals Chronik des Konstanzer Konzils,” and the two articles by Karl Küp.

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Ulrich Richenthal’s Chronicle k 125 Gisela Wacker’s dissertation offers a fine analysis of these illustrations.46 Her multidisciplinary approach aims at reconstructing the chronicle’s lost original version, its scope, and the structure of its illustration cycle, as well as identifying the origin and character of its forms. She rightly points to the frequent use of simile that facilitates mental associations with the familiar, what she calls “Signale zur Assoziation des Gewußten” or what could be translated as “associative signals.”47 Richenthal emphasizes confusion and eschatological motifs, while communicating the need for ecclesiastical reforms.48 His topics seem to form part of a late medieval Zeitgeist, since we also encountered them in Antonio Baldana’s work. These authors reflect contemporary anxieties identified by Renate BlumenfeldKosinski in her 2006 Poets, Saints, and Visionaries of the Great Schism, 1378–1417. Richenthal, an educated cleric who had abandoned his vocation, was keenly aware of the multiplication of conflicts of obedience in Germany, on account of its decentralized structure. Solutions were needed. His opening illustration of the meeting between John XXIII and Sigismund in Lodi, in which both are seated on an equal plane, shows that such cooperation between equal spiritual and temporal powers granted legitimacy to the council and hope for a resolution. It also points to Sigismund’s significant role in the solution of the crisis, emphasizing the political over the religious. Antonio Baldana used the same image. Gisela Wacker suggests that the few illustrations of conciliar scenes reflect Richenthal’s disappointment with spiritual authorities in reforming the Church and relieve the king of his responsibility for its failure.49 Still, I would argue that the opening representation of the council in oval or circular forms (like Baldana’s) alludes to its divine origins. With a caveat. The space usually reserved for the incarnated divinity at the center of circular Christian images is now filled with various iterations of divinity: an altar, a Monstrance, an empty throne, a pulpit with the Gospels, or a statue of the Virgin and child. The opening image of the council also epitomizes contemporaries’ understanding of the council, a circle of participants, with one or several chairmen, the pope in full regalia, and in Constance’s case, a missing Sigismund who has yet to arrive. Wacker assumes that this image exposes the unlawful presumption of the pope to initiate the council without the king.50 If she is correct, it is somewhat ironic that Richenthal would consider illegitimate the opening of a council that took decades in the making because no agreement could be reached on which legitimate pope would call it. For Richenthal, the emperor should have legitimized it with his presence. As it was, he considered it illegitimate because a pope had in fact called it. This inversion may depict the loss of faith that folk held in the capacity of the church to heal itself. Richenthal’s chronicle allows us to decipher the expectations of its audience. By focusing on ostentatious and conspicuous performances, we can guess that Richenthal satisfied the curiosity of readers who had never seen such displays. Truly, only Avignonese and Roman citizens or visitors to these capitals could pretend to be familiar with such spectacles. Constance was, for a few years, the capital of Christianity. Richenthal allows us to gauge the hunger for such narratives and illustrations that led audiences into the fray of things, 46

Wacker, Wacker, 48 Wacker, 49 Wacker, 50 Wacker, 47

“Ulrich “Ulrich “Ulrich “Ulrich “Ulrich

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Richenthals Richenthals Richenthals Richenthals Richenthals

Chronik Chronik Chronik Chronik Chronik

des Konstanzer des Konstanzer des Konstanzer des Konstanzer des Konstanzer

Konzils,” 145–85. Konzils,” 8–9. Konzils,” 12–13. Konzils,” 149. Konzils,” 148–49.

126 l images and responses with countless entries (adventus, ritual entrances), masses, liturgical feasts, banquets, plays, funerals, investitures, processions, and blessings of all kind. Richenthal describes some twenty-nine specific processions.51 Some of the processions were gigantic by medieval standard, again to impress the magnitude of events. For example, on Friday, April 26, 1415, “the procession was so large, what with spiritual and temporal folk, that there were fears that the bridge across the Rhine would give way, for 10,000 persons passed over it and a little later passed back again.”52 Such descriptions emphasize Christian unity in the face of the crisis, and the willingness of the faithful to end the crisis, while higher-ups could not demonstrate such enthusiasm. Richenthal underscores the liturgical performances of the papacy, suggesting a yearning for what could be some form of popular sanctification. Folk wanted access to the sacred, perhaps especially in times of religious crises. As will be seen in Chapter 4 on Rome, during the Schism pilgrims traveled hundreds of miles to reach Rome – with its Easter papal blessing and indulgences for jubilee years – even when obediences rejected each other. Here Richenthal underscores the availability and bounty of such benedictions locally in Constance. Instead of being rarefied, they abounded in view of all, as if dangerous times required widely spread spiritual remedies. He narrates some twentytwo general blessings “to the people,” something extraordinary for the citizens of Constance (and maybe not of Rome).53 In some cases, he familiarizes his readers with ceremonials, often stressing the awe created by such events. Following a short description of John Hus’s 1415 demise, Richenthal states, Now some of you may wonder in what fashion the Pope gave his blessing to the people. You must know that in the bishop’s palace at Constance, on the side of the upper court, there is a vaulted hall and off the hall a balcony, as wide as the hall, and in the balcony a great, overhanging bay with three large windows across the front and two on each side. Many come from the palace out into the balcony window. Now whenever the Pope was about to give his blessing, they hung white cloths of the best damask from all the bay windows. Within, they covered the ceiling of the balcony and all the walls with cloths of gold. And in the central window, over the white cloth, they laid a long costly cushion and over the cushion, a splendid great cloth of gold that hung down. When the Pope was to give his blessing, a bishop in a miter came first into the balcony, carrying a cross, and behind the cross came two bishops in white miters, carrying two tall burning candles in their hands. They set the burning candles in the window. Then came four cardinals, also in white miters, or sometimes six, or at other times less. Sometimes also our lord King came into the balcony. The cardinals and the King stood in the windows.54

The dominance of white and gold brought home ideas of purity, sanctity, and renewal. Constance bathed in an aura of sanctification. The council made the city hallowed ground.

51

52 53

54

The Council of Constance, 89, 92, 125, 127, 134, 137, 138, 139, 141,142, 143, 144, 145, 146, 148, 150, 151, 152, 155, 157, 165, 166, 167, 169, 186, 187. The Council of Constance, 126. The Council of Constance, 89, 92, 96, 102, 110, 112, 114, 126, 127, 140, 141, 144, 151, 172, 173, 174, 177, 181, 182, 186. The Council of Constance, 114.

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Ulrich Richenthal’s Chronicle k 127 As a result, Constance in turn became a destination. Constance became a shrine, a pilgrim’s reference point. When Richenthal describes the 1418 Monday’s Laetare’s blessing, he notes, On the Monday after Laetare, in Mid-Lent, which was the 6th day of March, the Pope celebrated Mass at the high altar and afterwards gave the people his blessing from the balcony window, as described before. Beside the city folk, there were in the upper court so many strangers, who came from four miles away, that it was reckoned there were a hundred and fifty thousand women, men and children. After the blessing, guards had to be set at all six entrances into the court lest someone be trampled or crushed. Everyone wondered how bread enough could be baked to give each one half a loaf, as was the will of God.55

A few pages later he adds that the pope multiplied his blessings freely, and gratuitously. He states, It was proclaimed through the city that whoever wished to receive a blessing should come at the fourth hour to the upper court, where the Pope would give it, and that he would do the same on Good Friday after Mass and on Easter Eve also after Mass. At the fourth hour, he gave his blessing and the court was crowded full of people. He gave an indulgence of seven years and seven Lents for mortal sins to all who were there and had confessed and repented their sins. All who desired his blessing could have it.56

One can hear the pride and awe in the narrator’s voice, but also sense it in his audience’s reaction to his tale. For these few years, the pope gave liberally something that was often distributed parsimoniously. Richenthal not only narrates, he adds sensorial physicality to his tale. His pages are filled with sounds. Illustrations depict throngs of people; his audience can hear the voices of the numerous visitors that filled the city. Trumpets and fifes abound, and he even asserts that “1700 trumpeters, fifers, fiddlers, and players of all kinds” filled the streets of Constance.57 He also mentions the organ of the Cathedral.58 The sound of bells adds to the city’s sanctity – and cacophony. Their ringing marked the rhythms of sacred time.59 His almost obsessive attention to horses (like Baldana’s) show his love and admiration for the beautiful beasts, but also his audience’s, who yearned to read about them. Their constant presence in most images allows us to “hear” and “smell” them – evidence that horses were truly prized in the Middle Ages, as working animals and companions, from the poor to the wealthy. Richenthal’s vivid descriptions and enumerations testify to their popularity, as does Baldana’s exquisite drawings.60 They add visual beauty to familiar sounds. Lights and

55

The Council of Constance, 177. The Council of Constance, 181. 57 The Council of Constance, 190. He refers to trumpets on pages 104, 112, 118, 138, 143, 144, 146, 147, 149, 152, 153, 154, 155, 156, 172, 177; fifes on pages 87, 104, 112, 143, 144, 153, 154, 155, 161, 172. 58 The Council of Constance, 93, 158–48. 59 The Council of Constance, 89–93, 109–11, 125, 135–36, 138, 142, 145–46, 148, 150, 156, 158, 160, 168, 172, 173–75, 178, 180, 185. 60 Horses are encountered on almost every page of the manuscript, see The Council of Constance, 87–91, 97–98, 102–06, 117, 128–30, 134, 145, 149, 151, 155, 162–63, 157, 170–72, 175–76, 183–89. 56

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128 l images and responses candles are often added to his itemization of processions’ cloths and colors, creating an atmosphere of vibrant sounds and colors.61 We can note that his description of the horse that transported the Eucharist in procession assembled all the sensorial quality of papal ceremonial: “upon the [red] cloth stood two silver candlesticks with burning candles, and the horse had a little bell on his head.”62 The papal horse symbolized the liturgical unity of fabric color, light, and sound. Most images of the popes in the various iterations of the chronicle, from John XXIII’s adventus into Constance to the coronation of Martin V, and his granting of the Golden Rose to Sigismund, illustrate a papacy performing “temporal domination” and plenitudo potestatis with its trappings, blessing gestures, priestly regalia, tiaras, and the papal white horse under a canopy.63 Describing John XXIII’s entrance in Constance, he states, “Over him they carried a golden canopy, which the people of Constance gave him . . .. Behind them rode a man on a great horse with a long staff in his hand, and the staff rested on the saddle. Upon the staff was a great hat made of cloth, red and gold sewed together, and the hat was so broad that it spread over three horses. On the top of it was a golden knob, and on the knob stood a golden angel with a cross in its hand.”64 The papal umbrella (the Umbraculum) identified the temporal power of the Church (see Illustration 3).65 Martin’s coronation, which shows Sigismund as strator (groom), holding the papal horse’s reins, reinforces this notion.66 Richenthal (who could be labeled “pro imperial”) here recast a ritual script that typified medieval papal reforms and imitatio imperii.67 Even if the papacy of the Schism was unable to solve its own crisis, and relied on a secular ruler for leadership in finding a solution, it could not utterly defer to the Holy Roman emperor. Papal ascendance, if only in ceremony, needed to be displayed. Thus, the pope rode while the emperor held the reins of his horse. As Jörg Traeger suggests, the topic is an iconographic topos to demonstrate triumphal papal lordship.68 Here Sigismund was to

61

The Council of Constance, 89, 92, 110, 114, 126, 136–38, 141–44, 146, 148, 150–51, 153, 158–59, 162–63, 168–77, 179, 181, 185. 62 The Council of Constance, 89. 63 See Richenthal, Das Konzil Zu Konstanz, fols. 5v.–6, for the Lodi’s encounter between John XXIII and Sigismund; fols. 12–17, for the papal entry in Constance; fols. 37–39 for the Golden Rose ceremonies. The papal white horse had been a ceremonial feature since the thirteenth century. 64 The Council of Constance, 89. Richenthal also describes Martin V’s papal umbrella, see The Council of Constance, 172. 65 The Council of Constance, 192. On the Umbraculum, see Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, “Innocent III and the World of Symbols of the Papacy,” Journal of Medieval History 44, no. 3 (2018): 263. 66 On the role of strator, see Traeger, Der reitende Papst; and Montaubin, “Pater urbis et orbis,” 28–29, 39, 45. 67 On this topic, see Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, The Pope’s Body (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000), 220–21. 68 Traeger states, “The papacy usurped the insignium of the white horse, among other things, as an outward expression of its assumed position equal to the emperor, considering it so important that it became along with other things the subject of the most momentous falsification in medieval world history [the Donation of Constantine].” Traeger, Der reitende Papst, 12 (the translation is by Elisabeth Garms-Cornides in her detailed review and criticism of the work. See Elisabeth Garms-Cornides, “Review of Der reitende Papst. Ein Beitrag zur Ikonographie des Papsttums by Jörg Traeger,” The Art Bulletin 55, no. 3 (1973): 451–56, here at 452.

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Ulrich Richenthal’s Chronicle k 129

Illustration 3 Ulrich Richenthal, Das Konzil Zu Konstanz, fol. 5r. Papal Umbrella, c. 1464. Photo courtesy of the author

Martin what Constantine had been to St. Silvester in the mid-thirteenth-century frescoes of the chapel of St. Sylvester at SS. Quattro Coronati in Rome. These images depict similar papal claims for temporal authority and overpower the Holy Roman emperor through the analogous image of the pope riding his white horse, while the emperor held its reins.69 This was an imperial act of servitude and reverence.70 Richenthal, however, is unable to mystify the papal office without secularizing it. For example, in his narrative of Candlemas 1415, he states,

69

70

See Maria Giulia Barberini, I Santi Quattro Coronati a Roma (Roma: Fratelli Palombi, 1989); Andreina Draghi, Gli affreschi dell’Aula gotica del Monastero dei Santi Quattro Coronati: Una storia ritrovata (Milano: Skira 2006); and Ronald B. Herzman and William A. Stephany, “Dante and the Frescoes at Santi Quattro Coronati,” Speculum 87, no. 1 (2012): 95–146. See the detailed discussion of the position of “strator” in Herzman and Stephany, “Dante and the Frescoes at Santi Quattro Coronati,” 108. See also, Mary Stroll, Symbols as Power: The Papacy following the Investiture Contest (Leiden: Brill, 1991), 193–28.

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130 l images and responses On Our Lady’s Day of Candlemas, Our Holy Father Pope John celebrated Mass, and the candles were blessed in front of him and he himself sprinkled holy water and read five collects over them. After the Mass he went up into the palace, into the balcony window that looks over the court, and four cardinals stood beside him, dressed like priests with white miters. Our lord King and the Grand Master of Rhodes also stood nearby. And the Pope gave the people his blessing and himself threw candles, an ell long, down among the people. Afterward his chaplains threw smaller candles down to the people, so that it was reckoned there were 60 lbs. of wax in those candles. Among the people there was a great scramble, one falling over another, and loud laughter. After dinner the Pope sent candles from his table to the houses of all the lords of renown, spiritual and temporal. And they shared them with their landlords who distributed them to every man who begged for one.71

The passage shows the enthusiasm that the distribution of consecrated candles caused. It stirred a large crowd, which jostled for them in good spirit. The passage evokes devotion and cheerfulness, but the moment’s unruliness desacralizes the ceremony. If we now turn to the illustrations of the event, the setting of the pope in his loggia distributing the consecrated candles of the Purification for Candlemas is reminiscent of Boniface VIII’s loggia, in Giotto’s fresco “Boniface VIII announces Holy Year” (ca. 1267–1337), at S. Giovanni in Laterano’s Archbasilica.72 The presentation in a triple frame is identical, as is the “imperial” canopy.73 The emphasis is again laid on the temporal dominium of the pope and his imitatio imperii. Gary Dickson’s analysis of Boniface’s loggia could fit Richenthal’s illustrations to the letter. Dickson states, In the drawing of the fresco [Boniface’s Lateran loggia], the upper register imposes itself upon the lower; there is no co-operative Gelasian dualism between the sacerdotal order, the clerus, and the populus. Rather the scene is intended to be strictly hierarchical, in conformity with the clerical bipartition of society . . .. The clergy forms a well-structured and tightly organized body, including seculars and regulars, ranged round the central figure of the Pope . . .. As a social grouping, the clerus is both loftier and more rationally ordered than its counterpart, the comparatively shapeless body of the laity far below it. The Gregorian vision of Christian society is triumphant: hieratic segregation follows from sacerdotal self-definition. Clerical dominance was self-evident. Raining down from on high, papal blessings are received ici bas, in the less well-ordered world of the crowd. Politically the crowd is subordinate, although within its own sphere, from which the clergy have withdrawn, it has ample space in which to act. This is a theocratic view of papal governance. The laity are nothing more than a crowd looking upwards for leadership, too informal a body to be conceived of as an organized political society like the Roman commune.74

71 72 73

74

The Council of Constance, 110. See the illustration in Richenthal, Das Konzil Zu Konstanz, 1: 70; 2: fols. 33v.–34. For Boniface’s loggia, see Gary Dickson, “The Crowd at the Feet of Pope Boniface VIII: Pilgrimage, Crusade and the First Roman Jubilee (1300),” Journal of Medieval History 25, no. 4 (1999): 279–307. Dickson, “The Crowd at the Feet of Pope Boniface VIII,” 304.

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Ulrich Richenthal’s Chronicle k 131 The correspondence is uncanny, and one wonders if the illustrator/s of Richenthal’s chronicle had not in fact visited the Laterano.75 In both cases, the imperial canopy and papal baldacchino are similar. As Charles Mitchell, who associates Boniface’s loggia with “the fourth-century reliefs on the base of the obelisk of Theodosius at Constantinople,” concludes, “But in the present instance there are circumstantial grounds for believing that Boniface VIII seized on an imperial form expressly to reassert an imperial idea.”76 However, even if the papal performances depicted in the chronicle of the council take an imperial overtone, they are often demystified with mundane, if not comical, papal representations. The candles’ distribution is one such representation: it mixes sacred and profane behavior like jostling and laughing. Others include the illustrations of the Arlberg incident, when the pope’s cart turned over in the snow and the pope plunged into it, as well as the depiction of his escape in disguise from Constance. When John XXIII traveled toward Constance, he crossed the Alps. Richenthal states, “When he was crossing over the Arlberg, midway, his carriage overturned, and he lay in the snow beneath it. Then all the lords and courtiers hastened to him, crying, ‘Holy Father, is your Holiness hurt?’ To which he replied, ‘Here I lie in the devil’s name!’”77 Louis Ropes Loomis reminds us that the joke is on the common funerary epitaph: “Here I lie in the name of the lord.”78 The passage is telling on several points. It clearly shows that the pope had a sense of humor, as he utterly trivialized forms of papal memorialization. The joke insinuates that the pope fell in the snow because the devil made him do so, and it is not something that anyone would expect from the mouth of a pope. But it also brings to mind a reversal of the Canossa episode that marked for the papacy its domination over Holy Roman emperor.79 Here Richenthal shows his imperial support by “humiliating” his pope. The tables have been turned.80 John’s escape during the first year of the Council, with the support of Frederick of Austria, is narrated in more muted tones, but the belittling of the pope is still present. Richenthal states, Then, on the 20th day of March . . . Anno Domini 1415, an hour after noon, Pope John secretly left the city of Constance. He rode on a small horse and wore a grey cape with a grey cowl, which was wrapped about him so that no one might know him. And he had a crossbowman at his side, and a small squire rode before him, also muffled up, and behind him came a cleric, also muffled so that no one could tell who he was.81

Charles Mitchell was first to associate Boniface’s loggia and “the fourth-century reliefs on the base of the obelisk of Theodosius at Constantinople,” in his 1951 article. See Charles Mitchell, “The Lateran Fresco of Boniface VIII,” Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 14, nos. 1–2 (1951): 5. 76 Mitchell, “The Lateran Fresco of Boniface VIII,” 6. 77 The Council of Constance, 88. 78 The Council of Constance, 192 (Hic jaceo in nomine Dei). 79 Regarding Canossa, see Uta-Renate Blumenthal, The Investiture Controversy: Church and Monarchy from the Ninth to the Twelfth Century (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1991); and Karl F. Morrison, “Canossa: A Revision,” Traditio 18 (1962): 121–48. 80 For a discussion of the “after Canossa,” see Magnus Ryan, “Bartolus of Sassoferrato and Free Cities. The Alexander Prize Lecture,” Transactions of the Royal Historical Society 10 (2000): 65–89. 81 The Council of Constance, 117. 75

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132 l images and responses The pope then crossed the lake to reach a meeting point with Frederick of Austria. Considering that Richenthal spends a good half of his chronicle narrating the grand entries and various other papal ceremonials, all orchestrated and scripted to perfection, usually with trumpets, fifes, and loud cheers, all pomp and circumstance, the description of this incognito, furtive, silent, escape takes a definitive anti-papal tone. Still, it is essential to note a detail rich in meaning. Ulrich is quite prolific when discussing the secret escape and its consequences. He notes King Sigismund’s vituperations, his meetings with anyone of importance in the city, his public accusations of Duke Frederick of Austria for aiding and abetting the pope, the declaration of wars (in writing) against him by some 400: “that same day more than four hundred proclaimed war in writing. Of these proclamations I myself wrote more than fifty, and they were all dispatched to Duke Frederick at Schaffhausen.”82 But he also presents John XXIII’s defense. Afraid for his life, John XXIII eventually left Schaffhausen for Laufenburg, and finally Freiburg in Breisgau. It is from Laufenburg that John sent a letter to Constance explaining his actions, which Dietrich copied “word for word.” Pope John rationalized his escape with an argument that had been pivotal in the creation of the Schism. He wrote, Be it known to you all and severally by these present that we were driven by the fear that can beset even the constant man to leave the city of Constance and come to the town of Schaffhausen, in the diocese of Constance, believing that there we could accomplish everything that would promote the peace and union of the Holy Church of God, which from day to day we more earnestly desire.83

Here John, if indeed these were his words, paralleled his defense with the cardinals’ rationale for their double election. In 1378, the French cardinals justified their action using the Corpus Iuris Civilis, Dig. 4.2.1: “[Ulpianus] Ait praetor: ‘Quod metus causa gestum erit, ratum non habebo’” (what is done through fear I will not uphold), which addressed compulsion and fear and allowed fear as a ground for the invalidity of official acts even if and when performed publicly. They asserted the illegality of an election in which the Roman mob had subjected them to a “fear of the kind that can conquer even a steadfast man” (metus qui potest cadere in constantem virum). John’s own defense and performance was impeccable and on point, and Richenthal allowed him to voice it publicly through his chronicle. If, for some, fear could excuse a Schism, it could certainly explain John’s escape from Constance. To return to the topic of humiliation, there is perhaps no better form of papal degrading than Richenthal’s long passage on the excommunication of pope Benedict. Session 29 of the Council (March 8, 1417) focused on it. At this session, the Cardinal of Florence, Cardinal Conti, the Archbishop of Milan, the Bishop of Merseburg, and two other bishops went out of the cathedral down to the lake shore and summoned him [Benedict] three times to answer for himself or through a spokesman. But no man appeared. Then they pronounced over him the curse of Judas and cast down stones and burning candles and went back into the cathedral to the session. And they declared him anathema and accursed.84 82 83 84

The Council of Constance, 119. The Council of Constance, 119. The Council of Constance, 150.

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Ulrich Richenthal’s Chronicle k 133 One can note that the narrative is filled with drama and pathos. Voices calling over the lake, while stones and candles were hurled to the ground, truly rendered the significance of the moment. The throwing of stones marked the seriousness of the accusation. Using the words of a judge-delegate at the Council of Basle, Christian Jaser explains that the gesture identified “when the sentence against a contumacious excommunicate was aggravated . . . to materialise the maledictory and defamatory effects of excommunication and bring them as close as possible to the home of the obstinate person. Consequently, the gesture of throwing stones is to be understood as an act of cursing: in signum maledictionis aeternae.”85 The pope was not only anathemized, he was utterly cast out of Christianity.86 Richenthal’s audience could see, hear, and feel the significance of the episode.87 In sum, what Richenthal communicates is the imbalance he perceived between the pope’s performance of his temporal legitimacy and his failure at spiritual leadership. In her study, Gisela Wacker suggests that after the election of Martin V, Richenthal’s disillusion followed his initial optimism about the potential for ecclesiastical reforms. Martin is represented granting electoral petitions for new benefices. The event was natural for a newly elected pope, who, with such a gesture, rewarded – somewhat materially – the support he had received. The new single pope quickly reverted to status quo and business as usual, making the past experience of the Schism meaningless.88 To a certain extent, Richenthal’s criticism matched the words of heretics whom the council condemned, such as Jan Hus and Jerome of Prague. Maybe then, for Richenthal, these were the true figurae Christi, while the pope acted as figura imperatoris.89

85

86

Christian Jaser, “Usurping the Spiritual Sword: Performative and Literary Alienations of Ritual Excommunication,” in State, Power, and Violence, ed. Margo Kitts, Bernd Schneidmüller, Gerald Schwedler, Eleni Tounta, Hermann Kulke, and Uwe Skoda (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2010), 512. Du Cange mentions that, in certain areas, folks threw stones against the house of an excommunicated and put a coffin in front of it, see http://ducange.enc.sorbonne.fr/EXCOMMUNICATIO (accessed on February 23, 2021). Durius etiam aliquando actum est contra excommunicatos, præsertim cum absolutionem petere et Ecclesiæ facere satis non festinabant; lapides []projiciebant in domum excommunicati, feretrum deferebant quasi illius funus curaturi, aliaque similia factitabant quæ nec a jure nec ab Episcopis permitterentur, ut discere est ex Concilio Avenion. ann. 1337. apud Baluzium in Conc. Galliæ Narbon. pag. 352. ubi genuinam lectionem restituimus ex ipso Concilii autographo quod vidit vir probatæ fidei D. le Fournier: Statuimus quod abinde in antea nullus ecclesiasticam jurisdictionem exercens, contra Excommunicatos ab ipsis, quantocunque tempore Excommunicationis sententiam animo sustinuerint indurato, procedat ad faciendum projici lapides in domum Excommunicationis sententia innodati, vel faciendum venire capellanum indutum veste sacerdotali, vel alios ad domum Excommunicati prædicti, vel portandum literbiam seu ferret (l. libitinam seu feretrum) vel alia similia quæ a jure non reperiuntur expressa, sed aliis a jure provisis (l. permissis) remediis utatur ad pœnam contumacium aggravandam.

87

88 89

But there is no other direct reference of the throwing of stones during the ritual itself. On March 24, 1418, Martin V again excommunicated Pedro de Luna and his obedience during the general Maundy Thursday ritual. See The Council of Constance, 180. Wacker, “Ulrich Richenthals Chronik des Konstanzer Konzils,” 153. Wacker, “Ulrich Richenthals Chronik des Konstanzer Konzils,” 159. Wacker, in an earlier chapter, suggests a link between the illustrative adaptation of the trials of Hus and Jerome of Prague and the Passion. See Wacker, “Ulrich Richenthals Chronik des Konstanzer Konzils,” 135–36.

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134 l images and responses

Illustration 4 Ulrich Richenthal, Das Konzil Zu Konstanz, fol. 70v. Benedict XIII’s excommunication, c. 1464. Photo courtesy of the author

Gisela Wacker argues that Richenthal’s common depictions of the pope riding his white horse – something that we also found in Baldana’s narrative, became the linchpin of his imperial conception of the papacy, and for his critics, a symbol of the degeneration of the pope’s initial pastoral role. A pope on a horse projected superbia, pride, and arrogance, but also connoted the coming Apocalypse and the pope Antichrist.90 However, I would argue that the image was certainly not new in the late fourteenth century, and the pope had been riding a white horse for centuries. In his fine analysis, Agostino Paravini Bagliani demonstrates that the white papal horse symbolized the pope’s purity and his victory against the “flesh.”91 Gisela Wacker’s analysis, even though not centered on performance, enriches our understanding of the communication of authority. She details the direct opposition of emperor/pope. The imperial pretentions of the pope lie in direct contrast with the depictions of Sigismund. She uses Sigismund’s arrival and entrance in Constance on Christmas Eve, accompanied by his wife, on foot and under a canopy, to show his pietas and humilitas.92 Here he manages to upstage the pope. Richenthal points toward the emperor’s acts, and their chronology, to depict him as a “healing emperor,” bringing peace and harmony to a chaotic world. He is the new king/priest, the new Solomon. Sigismund dominates ritual on the eve of the Nativity.93 The episode could also be used to demonstrate the malleability of performance. Performing “made” and created. In this case, the emperor “performed” papacy through 90

91 92 93

Wacker, “Ulrich Richenthals Chronik des Konstanzer Konzils,” 154–60. For Richenthal, papal decadence originated in its abandonment of its true pastoral and spiritual role in favor of temporal dominium. The apocalyptic motif is analyzed by Blumenfeld-Kosinski, Poets, Saints, and Visionaries of the Great Schism, 165–200. Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, Le bestiaire du pape (Paris: Les belles lettres, 2018), 59. Wacker, “Ulrich Richenthals Chronik des Konstanzer Konzils,” 170. Wacker, “Ulrich Richenthals Chronik des Konstanzer Konzils,” 170.

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Ulrich Richenthal’s Chronicle k 135 the trappings of ritual. Since the period of the Avignon papacy and Charles IV, the celebration of the Nativity involved the emperor with a lectio, in the presence of the pope. The emperor held the usual display of imperial regalia: the crown and sword. These readings again showed the sacral character of the Holy Roman emperor, a sacredness that allowed the emperor to stand on equal footing with the pope.94 Imperial powers descended from God – in Richenthal’s illustrations, the imperial sword always points to the back of the emperor’s head to visually represent this direct descendance from “above.” Like the illustration of the meeting in Lodi that announced the council, the lectio’s images highlight the principle of equality between both parties. Similarly, Sigismund’s cavalcade following his reception of the Golden Rose counterbalances the pope’s distribution of candles from his loggia at Candlemass.95 They are equal parts. Sigismund eventually left Constance, and Richenthal’s narrative fills his absence with the ceremonies of the papal election. The presence of bespectacled notaries reading contracts, in a few illustrations, could demonstrate the power of the king’s law regardless of the king’s presence. The Schism eventually ended with the election of a single pope. Wacker identifies how relations between popes and clergy were depicted before and after the election of Martin V.96 The equal partnership between John XXIII and his clergy displayed in earlier images disappears with Martin, who is always pictured above clergy and king – evidence for Wacker of the failed attempts at reform. I would argue that, on the contrary, the pope’s heightened position demonstrated the return of the status quo and the successful resolution of the Schism. The illustrations show that the best way to end the crisis was to utterly ignore it. The papacy at this juncture did not want reforms because they would lead to the degradation of its own authority versus councils. The papacy resisted assaults on its prerogatives through performance. It historicized its dominance using tradition. The procession of Corpus Christi relays a similar superiority of the spiritual over the temporal, with Sigismund dressed as a deacon showing his duality of office. The depictions of orthodox rites, along with the Turks and Tatars who had arrived alongside the Ruthenian delegation, emphasize tolerance, on the one hand, but also the universalist ambition of the Catholic church, on the other. It is true that the funeral of the Cardinal of Bari, a friend of John XXIII, is depicted logically with grander pomp than the funeral of the archbishop of Salisbury, a staunch critic of the venality of the church. But if we compare both narratives, we see that Richenthal adds a note of degradation in Bari’s narrative, although he relates the performance of papal authority through his ostentatious funeral.97 Richenthal adds, “On the third day, they buried him in the choir, on the left side, in a coffin of carved oak, putting much balsam in it against the bad odor.”98 Bari stank, while of Salisbury he states, “He was the bishop who dared say openly to Pope John, when the Pope was at Constance at mid-lent, that he was not worthy to be pope because of the wicked crimes he had committed and then

94

See Dykmans, Cérémonial-Conzié, 3: 244. Wacker, “Ulrich Richenthals Chronik des Konstanzer Konzils,” 174–75. 96 Wacker, “Ulrich Richenthals Chronik des Konstanzer Konzils,” 160–70. 97 Bari’s obsequies are described in The Council of Constance, 136–37, and Salisbury’s, 158–59. 98 The Council of Constance, 136. 95

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136 l images and responses recounted them to his face. He stood in fear of no man.”99 While Richenthal narrates papal performance, he cannot remain silent on the value of men. All in all, our wealthy bourgeois demonstrates that he was cognizant of the subtle language of ritual communication and performance. He drafted his chronicle for performative reception. While he watched and witnessed performances, he, in turn, enabled his readers through his narrative and illustrations to witness the council and the end of the Schism. Through his manuscript, he guides his audience toward what he considered the most essential role of the meeting in his city: the end of the schismatic papacy and possible reforms. While he illustrates the success of the end of the Schism with multiple and detailed images of the conclave, election, and post-electoral ceremonies, he leaves his readers in the dark about changes. The many images of Martin V are here to remind Richenthal’s audience that even after the greatest crisis of his age, things quickly reverted to what they had been. His audience must continue to wait for any possible reforms. Like many authors of his time, Richenthal offered a performative, sensual reading of his text. There is, first off, his manuscript’s visual display of all the coats of arms he could inventory, simultaneously exhibiting his knowledge and educating his readers (regardless of the depiction’s accuracy). The presentation glorifies the chronicler’s education, but I would argue that it also elevates his bourgeois readers to the level of aristocrats. It allowed anyone to visually identify, even ex post facto, who was who, and who had lived where, since the coats of arms were usually posted on dwellings’ entrances. One can imagine people discussing who their neighbors were or had been, or with whom they had chatted. The magnificence of the processions is also well illustrated, and we can easily surmise the awe they inspired. Many of Richenthal’s images depict sounds, people talking, hands and arms gesturing, trumpets sounding, cantors singing, horses neighing, clerics and monks chatting during a procession, sometimes showing distracted characters with individuals turning around to speak to someone behind them. The gestures of the council’s participants reflect the liveliness of the debates. The market scenes depict haggling over prices. The movement of banners emphasizes the wind blowing through them and the clinking of heavy cloth on metal. One can hear the cries of conductors prodding their mules, the cheers of the crowd while coins are thrown during a cavalcade, and the murmuring recitations of offices. One can also smell and taste the city, especially during the market scenes, where Richenthal displays the abundance of meats and fishes. One can conjure up the acrid smell and taste of blood and fish mixing with the delicious aroma of baking breads and pretzels. One can also smell incense, burning wax, and the aroma of ecclesiastical ritual – including the burning of heretics that mingled the smell of burning flesh with firewood. People also touch and hold food, animals, and other humans. They hold reins, swords, carts, banners, arms, and tapers, and they join hands in prayer. They kneel and touch the ground, sometimes with difficulty. One senses the strength of the soldiers’ grip holding Jan Hus and Jerome of Prague, and the exertion of carrying the heavy coffin of the archbishop of Salisbury. One feels the strain of the carpenters hacking at the wood that will build the conclave’s cells. Richenthal’s chronicles read like a vivid graphic novel. He allows us,

99

The Council of Constance, 159.

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The Apocalypse Tapestry of Angers k 137

Illustration 5 Ulrich Richenthal, Das Konzil Zu Konstanz, fol. 12r. Processional entry, c. 1464. Photo courtesy of the author

surreptitiously, to accompany him inside the city and witness the council it held. He grants us access, furthermore, to his mind and all that he saw, all that the spectacle of the council offered him and his co-citizens, a spectacle that attempted to project and call for harmony and unity. The call of the many trumpets depicted in his illustrations announce the first days of a new age to come, an age when true legitimacy ruled with its popes and emperors.

The Apocalypse Tapestry of Angers

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ichenthal’s trumpets lead us to the trumpets of the Apocalypse. The magnificent tapestry that is still displayed today in a special room of Angers castle narrates, in some eighty-four woven scenes, the visions that St. John recorded in his Book of Revelation.100 Organized in six huge panels, each one starts with a length-wise rectangular 100

The Angers tapestry has been exhibited at Angers castle since 1954, see www.chateau-angers.fr/ Explorer/La-Tapisserie-de-l-Apocalypse (accessed on February 23, 2021). I am unfortunately unable to reproduce any of its panels. Interested readers can view the panels in great detail in

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138 l images and responses frame depicting an old man reading a book – usually under an ornate gothic canopy, inviting the spectator to read and meditate. The panel is divided length-wise in two rows, counting seven scenes or tapestries each, that run the entire length of the panel. The tapestry was meant to be read from left to right, top row first. A band of text separated the rows, but it was eventually cut off in later centuries. The Angers Apocalypse is a wool masterpiece. It is a warp tapestry – we have no indications if it was on a high or low warp, except that its exceptional width at some six meters would suggest high warp (haute lisse). In addition to its size, one of its most unusual aspects is that it is visible recto and verso, with a finished reverse that has retained all of its color vibrancy – a tremendous feat for the times.101 Each original panel measured 23.5 meters in length and 6 meters high, for a total length of some 140 meters. It was dismantled over time, and some pieces have disappeared. The current version is 103 meters by 4.5 meters, thus a bit smaller than the original, missing the intermediary text between rows. However, when standing in front of it, it is still impressive. At the time of its manufacture in the late fourteenth century, it was the greatest tapestry ever woven. For all the historians who have studied it, the tapestry showcases the great lord Louis of Anjou, son of the French King John the Good, and brother of Charles V. They explain that Anjou’s choice of an apocalyptic theme was driven by the duke’s experience with the Hundred Years War and the plague. What is surprising is that the historiography remains silent on the Schism. This silence is problematic because the tapestry’s chronology is close to that of the Schism, as is its theme. The following will argue that Anger’s Apocalypse directly spoke to the Schism. Louis of Anjou ordered the tapestry between 1373 and 1380. By then he was already a collector – by 1364, he possessed some seventy-three illustrated tapestries (historiées). The inventory of his brother Charles V’s library, undertaken in 1373 by Gilles Mallet, states that the king’s library held an “Apocalipse en françois toute figurée et ystoriée” (an illustrated

101

Paule Amblard, Saint Jean – L’Apocalypse: Illustrée par la tapisserie d’Angers (Paris: Diane de Selliers, 2010). For the most recent, see Jacques Cailleteau, Francis Muel, Laurent Hablot, Elisabeth Taburet-Delahaye, Fabienne Joubert, Étienne Vacquet, and Didier Le Fur, Apocalypse: La tenture de Louis d’Anjou (Paris: Éditions du patrimoine, Centre des monuments nationaux, 2015); Christian de Mérindol, “Note sur la tapisserie de l’Apocalypse d’Angers,” Bulletin de la Société Nationale des Antiquaires de France, 1983 (1985): 82–91; “La tenture de l’Apocalypse d’Angers: Une hypothèse à propos de l’absence d’envers,” Bulletin de la Société Nationale des Antiquaires de France, 2008 (2015): 48–57; and “Nouvelles observations sur la tenture de l’ ‘Apocalypse’ d’Angers,” Bulletin de la Société Nationale des Antiquaires de France, 1987 (1989): 52–61; Francis Salet, “L’Apocalypse d’Angers,” Bulletin Monumental 142, no. 2 (1984): 207–8; Jean-Bernard de Vaivre, “Notes d’ héraldique et d’emblématique à propos de la tapisserie de l’Apocalypse d’Angers,” Comptes rendus des séances de l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres 127, no. 1 (1983): 95–134; Fabienne Joubert, “L’Apocalypse d’Angers,” Bulletin Monumental 138, no. 2 (1980): 234–35; 138, no. 3 (1980): 349–50; “L’Apocalypse d’Angers et les débuts de la tapisserie historiée,” Bulletin Monumental 139, no. 3 (1981): 125–40; Francis Salet, “L’Apocalypse d’Angers,” Bulletin Monumental 111, no. 1 (1953): 77–78; René Planchenault “L’Apocalypse d’Angers: Éléments pour un nouvel essai de restitution,” Bulletin Monumental 111, no. 3 (1953): 209–62. This dual recto-verso weaving has allowed historians to recover on the verso side the bright colors utilized initially during the Middle Ages. Most art books picturing the tapestry have used this verso for their photographs.

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The Apocalypse Tapestry of Angers k 139 apocalypse written in French), and another note adds that in 1380, “Le Roy . . . a baillée a mons. d’Anjou pour faire son beau tapis” (the king lent the book to Mons. of Anjou for his beautiful tapestry).102 Hennequin (Jean) de Bruges, the king’s painter, was asked to design the “cartoons” or patrons. He received a first payment in January 1377 for his pourtraitures et patrons.103 In April 1377, Nicholas Bataille, tapiccier de Paris (tapestry maker) was paid 1,000 frans for two tapestries; then in October 1378, he received an additional 500 frans. Another payment was rendered to Bataille, tapissier (note the variation in spelling), in June 1379, for another three tapestries. It can be expected that by the end of 1379, Bataille had manufactured five tapestries.104 This indicates that the tapestry’s illustrations reproduced a manuscript, and that by 1380 the majority, at least five of the six panels, was already completed. Of course, Anjou could not know when he ordered the tapestry in the late 1370s that the Schism would affect his choice – even if he knew French cardinals were reluctant to return to Rome. However, the following suggests that the Schism added meaning to the tapestry, which was completed sometime within its early years. The Schism informed contemporary audiences’ viewing and reading of the tapestry. The following analysis will propose that the tapestry’s apocalyptic beast symbolically represented the “two-headed” Schism. This textile masterpiece has been utterly bypassed by the historiography of the Schism. This is rather puzzling since, in addition to being completed during the Schism, its topic, the apocalypse, was a literary topos of the time. Roberto Rusconi and later Renate Blumenfeld-Kosinski have discussed the prophetic, apocalyptic traditions linked to the crisis and leave no doubt that for many contemporaries, the Schism was read and understood in apocalyptic terms.105 The great theologian Nicolas de Clamanges (1363–1427) labeled the Schism in his Traité de la ruine de l’ Eglise, “this very cruel beast, laying waste, consuming, and destroying everything.”106 Richard K. Emmerson, discussing the Apocalypse manuscript of the Duke of Berry (c. 1415), surmises that “the mise-en-page of the Berry Apocalypse not only situates the viewer-reader on the threshold between image and text, but also between the historical events of the Great Schism and the prophetic expectations depicted in the manuscript.”107 It does not seem to be a stretch of the mind to suggest that the contemporary audience of the Angers tapestry read the “apocalyptic” Schism into it. Specialists label the tapestry of the Apocalypse a tapisserie historiée, meaning that it is an “illustrated” tapestry that tells a story with characters. It is a sort of magnificent woven Amblard, Saint Jean – L’Apocalypse, 28. Donald King, “How Many Apocalypse Tapestries?,” in Studies in Textile History: In Memory of Harold B. Burnham, ed. Veronika Gervers-Molnár (Toronto: Royal Ontario Museum, 1977), 160. 104 Joubert, “L’Apocalypse d’Angers et les débuts de la tapisserie historiée,” 125–40. The quotes are found page 125. See also, Amblard, Saint Jean – L’Apocalypse, 28; and King, “How Many Apocalypse Tapestries?,” 161. 105 Roberto Rusconi, L’attesa della fine: Crisi della società, profezia ed Apocalisse in Italia al tempo del grande scisma d’Occidente (1378–1417) (Rome: Istituto storico italiano per il Medio Evo, 1979); and Renate Blumenfeld-Kosinski, Poets, Saints, and Visionaries of the Great Schism. 106 As cited by Blumenfeld-Kosinski, Poets, Saints, and Visionaries of the Great Schism, 5. 107 Richard K. Emmerson, “On the Threshold of the Last Days: Negotiating Image and Word in the Apocalypse of Jean de Berry,” in Thresholds of Medieval Visual Culture: Liminal spaces, ed. Elina Gertsman and Jill Stevenson (Woodbridge: Boydell & Brewer, 2012), 11–43, the quote is at page 13. 102 103

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140 l images and responses medieval cartoon, similar to Antonio Baldana’s prophecy, and Ulrich Richenthal’s chronicle. The tapestry reproduced a medium growing familiar at the time, illustrated narratives, whether biographies, chronicles, or tapestries. This “cloth” medium has been studied for the early modern period, but rarely for the late Middle Ages.108 Although made of cloth, the Angers tapestry resembles in many ways the biographical Beauchamp Pageant discussed by the late Claire Sponsler.109 The tapestry was yet another object that could be read performatively. Claire Sponsler states of the Beauchamp Pageant, “Whoever created the Beauchamp Pageant had at hand that model of biography as written record of performed identity and expanded it to include visual representation. To flip through the twenty-eight leaves of the Pageant is to encounter a series of staged enactments from the earl’s life.”110 As it authenticated the Angevin duke, the Angers tapestry enacted the Schism with its apocalyptic overtones. The true identity of the tapestry’s main character is somewhat clouded behind the “screen” of St. John’s apocalyptic narrative. But Louis of Anjou is present through constant reminders; as Laurent Hablot underscores, he is sur-représenté (over-exposed).111 His coat of arms, the golden lilies within azure (d’azur semé de fleurs de lis d’or brisée d’une bordure de gueules), is found on all the panels and most scenes; for example, it is on the wings of butterflies and on flying banners. Anjou’s emblematic (coat of arms, heraldic, portraits) is present throughout.112 The patriarchal cross, symbol of his order of chivalry, the order of the Cross, sits next to his motto, je le dois (I must), a reference to his crusading ideal.113 The intertwined capitals L and M represent the couple Louis of Anjou and Marie de Blois, in equal numbers on many scenes. Anjou’s secret seal is also symbolized.114 And to leave all guessing aside, scene 53 that represents Revelation 14: 14–16, “Harvesting the Earth,” shows his brother Charles V enthroned as god, wearing a crown and a lily scepter in his right hand, while a young Charles VI, scythe in hand, harvests the wheat.115 There is little doubt that the identity of Anjou transpired through the cloth. Chapter 7, focused on the history of Avignon during the Schism, details how involved Louis of Anjou became with the Clementist obedience. Anjou became the military arm of Clement VII, defending his claim in France and on Italian land. As Sponsler indicates, performative reading also activated the memory of live performances. In our case, the tapestry performed two-dimensionally, with words and

See, for example, Laura Weigert, “‘Theatricality’ in Tapestries and Mystery Plays and Its Afterlife in Painting,” Art History 33 (2010): 224–35. 109 Claire Sponsler, “Tracing Medieval Performance: The Visual Archive,” in Performance and Theatricality in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, ed. Mark Cruse (Turnhout: Brepols, 2018), 93–109. 110 Sponsler, “Tracing Medieval Performance,” 97. 111 Laurent Hablot, “Présences emblématiques dans la tenture de l’apocalypse,” in Apocalypse: La tenture de Louis d’Anjou, ed. Jacques Cailleteau et al. (Paris: Éditions du patrimoine, Centre des monuments nationaux, 2015), 39. 112 On the use of various symbols in the tapestry, see Hablot, “Présences emblématiques dans la tenture de l’apocalypse,” 27–41. 113 Hablot, “Présences emblématiques dans la tenture de l’apocalypse,” 24. 114 De Mérindol, “Note sur la tapisserie,” 82–91; and de Vaivre, “Notes d’héraldique et d’emblématique,” 95–134. 115 De Mérindol, “Nouvelles observations sur la tenture,” 52–61. 108

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The Apocalypse Tapestry of Angers k 141 illustrations – unfortunately, the words have by now been cut out and have disappeared.116 But the tapestry’s illustrations performed each specific scene with depth and perspective, and this is what makes it magnificent and sensorially overwhelming. One can imagine visitors totally enveloped in its sheer magnitude, experiencing the Apocalypse though their own flesh, weaving textile with human fiber. The Arlesian chronicler Bertrand Boysset observed the tapestry as it should be, exposed in all its grandeur. After Louis I’s death, the tapestry passed to his son Louis II. Bertrand Boysset witnessed Louis II’s marriage to Yolanda of Aragon in November 1400, in the archbishop palace of Arles. He notes that the entire courtyard of the palace was decorated with cloths that were stretched and mounted on wood supports. He states that while the courtyard was “encortinada,” that is, wrapped in “noble and beautiful” curtains/cloths, one stood out, depicting the entire history of the Apocalypse. “And no man can write or describe the value, beauty, nobility of these cloths that covered the entire hotel of the archbishop, up and down, with all the kitchens, rooms, halls, and chapels decorated by such.”117 Boysset was so enthralled by the experience that he could not describe it. Seeing it left him speechless. To continue with Sponsler’s analogy, the tapestry used a performative reading of its narrative by staging each scene within a specific context (the Apocalypse), brilliant with costumes and dynamic figures.118 Mouths are opened in utterances, chats, exclamations; one can read and hear the performance. Characters mimic words – even words of fire coming out of the mouth of the two witnesses of Revelation 11: 3, “And I will appoint my two witnesses, and they will prophesy for 1,260 days, clothed in sackcloth” (scene 30), while scripts, books, and codices appear on every panel to suggest the act of reading. Gestures add movements to the tapestry sensorial reading. The two witnesses of Revelation 11: 7 are killed in scene 31; hands are opened in astonishment at their resuscitation, in scene 33 (Revelation 11: 11–13). Gestures are expressive: John cries, the angel smiles on scene 5 (Revelation 5: 1–5); the elders are stunned in scene 7 (Revelation 5: 6–14, the slain lamb); the knight of the fourth seal in scene 12 is death smiling (Revelation 6: 7–8). Music is also present, and there is a multitude of musical instruments that adorn scenes: the seven trumpets of the seven seals, for example (Revelation 8: 1–2, “And I saw the seven angels who stand before God, and seven trumpets were given to them”), in scenes 17, 19, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 34; or the harps of Revelation 15: 1–4, “They held harps given them by God and sang the song of God’s servant Moses and of the Lamb.”119 Thus, here again, the looker/audience/reader becomes a spectator who feels (sees, hears) the performance with all the senses. 116 117

118 119

Sponsler, “Tracing Medieval Performance,” 98. Patrick Gautier Dalché, Marie Rose Bonnet, and Philippe Rigaud, eds., Bertrand Boysset: Chronique (Turnhout: Brepols, 2018), henceforth Bertrand Boysset: Chronique, 111. See also the older German edition, Bertrand Boysset, “Die Chronik des Garoscus de Ulmoisca Veteri und Betrand Boysset (1365–1415),” in Archiv für Literatur und Kirchengeschichte des Mittelalters, ed. Franz Ehrle (Freiburg: Herder’sche Verlagshandlung, 1900), 359. Sponsler, “Tracing Medieval Performance,” 100–104. On music, see De Mérindol, “La tenture de l’Apocalypse d’Angers,” 55, who states that wind and percussions are utilized to grab the audience’s attention. Strings instruments and singing are dedicated to celebrating god; viola and harps trace the path that runs from the extermination of pagans, to the first eschatological fight and the accomplishment of Revelation.

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142 l images and responses The spectator can also smell the incense of Revelation 8: 3, “Another angel, who had a golden censer, came and stood at the altar” (scene 18). He can taste the small book of Revelation 10: 8–11, “So I went to the angel and asked him to give me the little scroll. He said to me, ‘Take it and eat it. It will turn your stomach sour, but “in your mouth it will be as sweet as honey”’” (Scene 28). He can touch and feel. The foot of the angel touches John’s foot in scene 29 (Revelation 11: 1–2) as John seizes the reed/measuring rod. In scene 70 (Revelation 19: 9–10), a kneeling John supports his hand on the angel’s. These few examples suffice to suggest this insistence on the sensual, something that we have already encountered in Baldana’s and Richenthal’s works. This leaves one question open: How did contemporaries see the Schism in the tapestry? Several historians have read the theme of the Apocalypse into the Schism.120 Certain scenes found on the tapestry reinforced the association between Apocalypse and divided papacy, leading audiences to see and read the Schism into the tapestry. Scene 3 (Revelation 1: 12–20), the “son of man . . . and coming out of his mouth was a sharp, double-edged sword,” depicts Christ the Savior who will fight evil and triumph. Evil is the Schism. The God in majesty of scene 4 (Revelation 4: 1–11) divides the canvas in two courts with Christ in the center, a design that we find in other literature of the period – a divided circle with Christ at the center, for the two obediences; the design is replicated in scene 5. The tears of John in scene 6 (Revelation 5: 1–5) show his sadness at the division of the Church. The slaughtered lamb of Revelation 5: 6–14, “Then I saw a Lamb, looking as if it had been slain, standing at the center of the throne, encircled by the four living creatures and the elders,” found in scene 7 is disturbing. Centered on the canvas, the lamb seems impaled by the cross banner, bleeding profusely from his throat and hooves, head bent in the spasms of death. It divides again two crowned courts of elders – two obediences, opposed symmetrically. Additionally, as will be argued further below, the superposed double-framed “elders” are highlighted by a dark blue panel, decorated with lighter blue “Y,” symbolizing the divergence of paths. Scenes 20–26 represent the opening of the seven seals, depicting a world tortured by the plagues of the time: wars, soldiers, fire, and destruction. All these traumatic pictures brought the viewer back to the crisis. The destroyed church of scene 23 may be one of its clearest references. It illustrates Revelation 8: 12–13, when at the sound of the fourth trumpet “the sun was struck, a third of the moon, and a third of the stars, so that a third of them turned dark.” In the sky, the eagle of “woe” carries a banner with the word “Ve” scripted three times. Ve or vae is Latin for “woe” and “alas.” The Schism was woe and alas. A few scenes later, it is difficult not to see in Revelation 12: 1–6, “The Woman and the Dragon,” the Virgin giving Jesus to the world, with a seven-headed dragon at her feet, a symbol of the beast “born” from the Church. In similar fashion, contemporary writers such as Martin de Alpartil treat the Schism as a multi-headed monster. Alpartil repeats, “the Church is one and it is not fitting that it has two heads, like a monster.”121 120

121

Again, see Rusconi, L’attesa della fine; and Blumenfeld-Kosinski, Poets, Saints, and Visionaries of the Great Schism. “Cum una sit ecclesia, non decebat eam habere duo capita quasi mostrum.” Martin de Alpartil, Cronica actitatorum temporibus Benedicti XIII Pape, ed. and trans. Jose Angel Sesma Mufioz and Maria del Mar Agudo Romeo (Zaragoza: Centro de Documentación Bibliográfica Aragonesa, 1994), 19.

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The Apocalypse Tapestry of Angers k 143 Similarly, all visual references to the seven-headed beast out of the sea (scenes 40–45) show a lion-like, multiple-headed monster, whose heads are piled on top of each other in pyramidal formation, eerily reminiscent of the papal triple crown. The adoration of the beast in scene 43 (Revelation 13: 8–10) illustrates an obedience adoring the wrong pope; and the toads coming out of the mouths of the three beasts in scene 62 (Revelation 16: 13–16) the wrong message preached by the wrong pope. A final example appears with the multiple Y (the bivium/bivia) that backlight three scenes: the slaughter of the lamb already mentioned, the opening frame of panel 4, and the great prostitute. The opening scene of panel 4 depicts the old man seated on a green chair under a gothic canopy, with a back panel covered with a red and blue pattern cloth of climbing-ivy, interspersed with white Y. The latter has been the focus of much discussion, concluding that the Y signifies the Pythagorean sign of life. The bottom branch means youth and the top V the choice to be made between a good, difficult path, and a bad, easy one.122 But if we read the Schism into the tapestry, then the Y signifies the division of the Church. And here, the placement of multiple bivia informs the entire fourteen scenes found in panel 4. The choice of paths seems appropriate, especially if we consider that this fourth panel comes after Revelation 13: 4–7 (“People worshiped the dragon because he had given authority to the beast, and they also worshiped the beast and asked, ‘Who is like the beast? Who can wage war against it?’ The beast was given a mouth to utter proud words and blasphemies and to exercise its authority for forty-two months”); and before Revelation 13: 8–10 (“All inhabitants of the earth will worship the beast – all whose names have not been written in the Lamb’s book of life, the Lamb who was slain from the creation of the world.”) These passages refer to the worship of the wrong obedience. Finally, the last example of a Y is found on the scene that represents Revelation 17: 1–2 (Babylon, the Prostitute and the Beast, “One of the seven angels who had the seven bowls came and said to me, ‘Come, I will show you the punishment of the great prostitute, who sits by many waters. With her the kings of the earth committed adultery, and the inhabitants of the earth were intoxicated with the wine of her adulteries’”).123 The image of a beautiful woman sitting by the water, combing her long blond hair recalls Petrarch’s words, “the worst of all things are there in Babylon on the fierce banks of the Rhône where the infamous prostitute fornicates with the kings of the earth.”124 The Avignon papacy was never far from being called Babylon. Could the prostitute be the Clementist obedience? Considering that Baldana, for example, portrayed the opening of the Schism with the “rape” of a nun, this form of feminine anthropomorphization is highly probable. The Angers tapestry became so popular during the Schism because it illustrated the crisis. It was so popular that the French royal house competed for copies. If, as Laurent Hablot suggests, Louis of Anjou was the guide of this eschatological journey toward the end of time and salvation, he could only emulate imitators. According to Donald King, the account books of Anjou’s brothers mentioned the purchases of De Vaivre, “Notes d’héraldique et d’emblématique à propos de la tapisserie de l’Apocalypse d’Angers,” 95–134; Salet, “L’Apocalypse d’Angers,” 77–78, and 207–8; Hablot, “Présences emblématiques dans la tenture de l’apocalypse,” 36–37. 123 Revelation 17: 1–2. 124 Robert Coogan, Babylon on the Rhone: A Translation of Letters by Dante, Petrarch, and Catherine of Siena on the Avignon Papacy (Madrid: José Porrúa Turanzas, 1983), 13. 122

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144 l images and responses tapestries of the Apocalypse. Philip the Bold’s records note a tapestry of the Apocalypse manufactured for the duke of Burgundy by Robert Poisson (Anjou’s weaver) in 1386.125 It is remarkable that the number of panels was equal to Angers’ six, and that the tapestry cartoons were a copy of Anjou’s.126 Further, a 1416 inventory of the duke of Berry’s possessions records that he also owned a tapestry of the Apocalypse, this one, of one piece.127 While the three brothers/dukes competed with each other in sometimes obscure political maneuvering, they also emulated each other, through these vivid illustrations of the crisis. Three tapestries of the Apocalypse, witnesses of the damages caused by the Schism, and maybe also of their owners’ responsibilities.

King, “How Many Apocalypse Tapestries?,” 161. The document states, “A Robert Poinçon demourant a Paris sur la somme de Vm. frans d’ or a quoy monseigneur a fait marchie a lui pour lui faire et livrer six grans tappiz de haulte liche et de file d’ Arras a l’istoire de l’Apocalipse, chascun tappiz contenant llllxxX aunes quarrées a l’aune de Paris.” See also Joubert, “L’ Apocalypse d’ Angers,” 234–35. 126 King, “How Many Apocalypse Tapestries?,” 163–64. 127 “D’un autre tappis nommé le Tappis de l’Appocalice, contenant XIX aulnes de long et quatre aulnes et un quartier de large, lequel est de laynne de plusieurs couleurs, sanz or; VIIIXX 1 escu, valent CIIIIXX 1 liv. II sous VI den.” Jules Guiffrey, Inventaires de Jean Duc de Berry (1401–1416), 2 vols. (Paris: Ernest Leroux, 1894–96), 2: 207. See also King, “How Many Apocalypse Tapestries?,” 164. 125

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4 Conflicting Legitimacy The Schism and the Rhetoric of Tyrannicide

of this chapter concerns the performance of legitimacy, or rather its opposite, the performance of usurpation and tyranny.1 Medieval and early modern political theory has been recently magisterially synthesized by Francis Oakley. However, the influence of the Great Western Schism on political theory has been largely ignored, outside discussions of concilarism.2 The following will engage the Schism with the issue of legitimacy and eventually tyranny and tyrannicide. After discussing medieval concepts of tyranny, this chapter will examine if contemporary authors considered schismatic popes to be tyrants. Once established that in fact they did, the chapter will investigate further the consequence of the latter, looking at contemporary cases of so-called tyranny, with accusations against Richard II and Louis of Orléans. The leading argument will suggest that contemporaries of the Schism scripted the performance of tyranny or rather usurpation from papal behavior. Once outlined, the model took on a life of its own in the political realm, where, following a certain mimetism, accusations of “performing” tyranny, that is, performing usurpation, facilitated the elimination of inconvenient opponents.3 From the mayhem of Italian city-states’ abdications, depositions, political murders, to, for example, the murders of Richard II (1367–1400), Louis of Orléans (1372–1407), or the 1400 deposition of Holy Roman Emperor Wenceslaus, it seems that the later Middle Ages

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This chapter’s premise was initially explored in Joëlle Rollo-Koster, “The Great Western Schism, Legitimacy, and Tyrannicide: The Murder of Louis of Orléans (1407),” in On the Edge of Modernity: Studies in European Intellectual History in Honor of Thomas M. Izbicki, ed. Bettina Koch and Cary J. Nederman (Kalamazoo: Arc Humanities Press & Medieval Institute Publications, 2018), 193–211. 2 Francis Oakley, The Watershed of Modern Politics: Law, Virtue, Kingship, and Consent (1300–1650) (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2015). 3 Père Jean-Philippe Goudot, “Le concile de Pise (1409): Le souverain et les grands,” Nouvelle revue théologique 132 (2010): 267–81, briefly addresses the chronological coincidence between Wenceslaus and Richard’s deposition, and the council of Pisa, arguing vehemently against the theological legitimacy of the council. He suggests that “great lords” both religious and secular (les grands), attempted to impose their erroneous corporative views on states and Church. They were willing to depose their lords if they did not comply to their demands. 1

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146 l conflicting legitimacy were comfortable with a narrative of brutal payback against proponents of so-called despotic rule.4 Violence against tyrants seemed appropriate and justified. Italy (in its geographical definition) may be the only area where a structural rationale can be advanced for a predisposition to usurpation.5 As Renaud Villard suggests, the various states formed a “complexity of legitimacies” with a widespread deficiency in successorial rules. These voids created “the emergence of concurrent legitimacies, of counter-powers, potentially usurpative.”6 This multiplicity often favored violent political means. Still, if the indigenous situation of Italy made political usurpation organic and endemic, and validated the killing of tyrants as an adequate response, “unjust” rule existed also where 4

See, for examples, M. V. Clarke, The Medieval City State: An Essay on Tyranny and Federation in the Later Middle Ages (Oxford: Routledge, 2016, a recent reprint of the 1926 edition); and Franklin L. Ford, Political Murder: From Tyrannicide to Terrorism (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1985). One can find examples for Italy in Sharon Dale, Alison Williams Lewin, and Duane J. Osheim, Chronicling History: Chroniclers and Historians in Medieval and Renaissance Italy (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2008). For Richard II, see, among many, Anthony Bedford Steel and George Macaulay Trevelyan, Richard II (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1962, repr. 2013); The Reign of Richard II: Essays in Honour of May McKisack, ed. F. R. H. du Boulay and Caroline M. Barron (New York: Oxford University Press, 1971); Anthony Goodman, The Loyal Conspiracy: The Lords Appellant under Richard II (Coral Gables: University of Miami Press, 1971); Louisa Desaussure Duls, Richard II in the Early Chronicles (Berlin: Mouton De Gruyter, 1975); Chris Given-Wilson, Chronicles of the Revolution, 1397–1400: The Reign of Richard II (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1993); Nigel Saul, Richard II (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1997); Michael J. Bennett, Richard II and the Revolution of 1399 (Stroud: Sutton, 2006); and A. K. McHardy, The Reign of Richard II: From Minority to Tyranny 1377–97 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2012). It is difficult to find readily available material on Wenceslaus, most of it is in Czech, but luckily there are few sources in German. The most recent is a conference in Germany, whose organizers, I hope, will publish a volume, see “Conference 29 March–1 April 2017, Erfurt: Wenzel IV. (1361–1419). Neue Wege zu einem verschütteten Herrscher/ Wenceslas IV (1361–1419). New Approaches to a Superimposed King,” at “Tagungsbericht: Wenzel IV. (1361–1419). Neue Wege zu einem verschütteten König / New Approaches to a Superimposed King,” March 29, 2017–April 1, 2017, Erfurt. See H-Soz-Kult, October 30, 2017, www.hsozkult.de/ conferencereport/id/tagungsberichte-7378 (accessed on February 23, 2021). See also Christian Oertel, “Wenceslaus alter Nero. Die Darstellung Wenzels IV. in der Historiographie des späten 14. und 15. Jahrhunderts,” Deutsches Archiv für Erforschung des Mittelalters 74 (2018): 673–702; and his post-doc project, “DFG-Projekt “Der König als Teil des Netzwerks. Herrschaftspraxis unter Wenzel IV. (1361–1419) in Böhmen und im Reich.” See also Klara Hübner, Herrscher der Krise-Die Krise des Herrschers: König Wenzel IV. Als Projektionsfläshe Zeitgenössischer Propaganda,” Bulletin der Polnischen Historischen Mission 11 (2016): 294–320, dx.doi.org/10.12775/BPMH.2016.009, who offers the king’s historiography. It is of note that Die Welt ranked him the worst king of Germany, see www.welt.de/kultur/history/article1369978/Wenzel-Deutschlands-schlechtesterKoenig.html (accessed on February 23, 2021). Older material can be found in Eberhard Holtz, Reichsstädte und Zentralgewalt unter König Wenzel, 1376–1400 (Warendorf: Fahlbusch, 1993); or in the work of Theodor Lindner, Geschichte des deutschen Reiches unter König Wenzel (Braunschweig: C. A. Schwetschke und Sohn, 1875). 5 See the interesting discussions regarding tyranny in Rivolte urbane e rivolte contadine nell’Europa del Trecento: Un confronto, ed. Monique Bourin, Giuliano Pinto, and Giovanni Cherubini (Firenze: Firenze University Press, 2010), especially Jean-Claude Maire Vigueur, “Le rivolte cittadine contro i ‘tiranni,’” 351–80. 6 Renaud Villard, “Faux complots et vrais procès: Pouvoirs princiers et répression des conjurations dans l’italie du XVIe siècle,” in Les procès politiques (XIVe–XVII2 siècle), ed. Yves-Marie Bercé (Rome: École française de Rome, 2007), 531–32.

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Conflicting Legitimacy k 147 powers were clearly delineated based on succession, legitimacy, and transmissibility. England and France offer multiple examples of the deposition of so-called unjust legitimate rulers; Richard II’s demise is one. He was accused above all of “breach of oath and dissipation of the crown resources.”7 That was the “tyranny” that ultimately led to his death.8 In France, after ordering the murder of Louis of Orléans, the duke of Burgundy organized his defense on the basis of the latter’s tyranny. Burgundy’s lawyer, Jean Petit, argued a syllogistic justification for the killing: (1) it is permissible to kill a tyrant; (2) the duke of Orléans was a tyrant; (3) thus it is permissible to kill Orléans.9 Petit rationale was in direct opposition to leading thinkers of the time, such as Pierre d’Ailly, who, even though he accepted resistance against abuse of powers, rejected tyrannicide.10 In addition to structural issues tied to the political situation of certain territories, or the personality and behavior of political leadership, several other factors brought political tensions and violence to a head in western Europe. Philippe Contamine, for example, suggests that heightened external threats and interior tensions were the reason behind the Hundred Years War’s multiplication of political trials. Contamine also argues that the latter were often accompanied by sophisticated interrogatory methods inspired by the Inquisition.11 Although this model suggests an ecclesiastical inspiration (the Inquisition) behind secular institutions, the historiography of late medieval political turmoil remains silent on the role the Schism played in contemporary political crises. The Schism has never been attached to the history of late medieval trials and political violence. Kings were deposed and eliminated, popes were deposed, and attempts were indeed made on their lives, but these parallel incidents have not been raised as historiographical questions.12 It remains to be seen whether there was “cross-pollination” between the secular and ecclesiastical worlds, and if this parallelism was superficial or the result of deeper historical movements. The historiography of late medieval political trials and violence, while keeping the Schism in the background as a part of the general historical context, has shied away from making it integral or pivotal in the analysis of political events. Though it is difficult to separate discussions of the medieval Church and politics, the exercise may still lead to 7

Edward Powel, Kingship, Law, and Society: Criminal Justice in the Reign of Henry V (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989), 34. 8 On “tyranny” during Richard’s rule, see Caroline M. Barron, “The Tyranny of Richard II,” Bulletin of the Institute of Historical Research 41 (1968): 1–18. 9 See Alfred Coville, Jean Petit: La question du tyrannicide au commencement du XVe siècle (Paris: A. Picard, 1932). 10 Francis Oakley, The Political Thought of Pierre d’Ailly: The Voluntarist Tradition (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1964), especially 156–57. 11 Philippe Contamine, “‘Inobedience’, rébellion, trahison, lèse-majesté: Observations sur les procès politiques à la fin du moyen âge,” in Les procès politiques XIVe–XVIIe siècle, ed. Yves-Marie Bercé (Rome: École française de Rome, 2007), 71. 12 See, for example, discussions in Yves-Marie Bercé, ed., Les procès politiques XIVe–XVIIe siècle (Rome: École française de Rome, 2007), where the Schism is not included in the historiography of political trials. See also the various essays in the more recent work of Jean-Philippe Genet, La légitimité implicite: Actes des conférences organisées à Rome en 2010 et en 2011 (Paris: Publications de la Sorbonne, 2016), where again the Schism is conspicuously absent from discussion. Even in England’s Empty Throne: Usurpation and the Language of Legitimation, 1399–1422 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1998), Paul Strohm remains silent on the Schism.

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148 l conflicting legitimacy some revelations. Using an approach based on language and dramatism, as defined in the first chapter, the following will investigate the rhetorical and propagandistic nature of political violence during the Schism within both secular and ecclesiastical texts. I will suggest that the French cardinals who anathemized the pope they had just elected followed a contemporary legal model that assimilated political illegitimacy with tyranny. Cardinals established (in their own logic) that the pope’s illegitimate election – hence his tyranny – allowed his deposition for usurpation. Illegitimacy thus proven, the pope’s deposition offered a precedent for political expediency in the secular world. The accusation of tyranny offered a convenient way to remove by any means whoever “hindered.” The chapter will then ask why the Council of Constance did not take the opportunity to tackle this political expedient head-on and condemn it, such as in discussions around the legitimacy of killing a “tyrant.” The argument during the Council crystallized around what to do with an “unjust” ruler and whether killing him was legitimate. Braving the Christian injunction that one should not murder, some rationalized violence for the greater good. Of course, it would seem logical that the period that witnessed the highest incidence of so-called illegitimate rulers would also see the highest level of discussions around tyrannicide. But it is fathomable that, with the beginning of the Schism, the ecclesiastical rhetoric of illegitimacy permeated the secular world and, in a certain sense, fashioned this high level of incidence, with both worlds mirroring each other. Secular familiarity with the ecclesiastical language of illegitimacy, usurpation, and tyranny could have incited to action – and maybe political murder. Did the climate and rhetoric of the Schism loosen inhibitions and taboos in the secular world? It is the aim of this chapter to explore relationships between the Schism and the rhetoric of tyrannicide, how tyrannicide was constructed, and how the Church responded. Reflection about legitimacy and illegitimacy, and about good and bad governance, was bound to happen when two popes ruled Western Christianity. During the Schism, religious and secular authorities contemplated the means of responding to illegitimacy: using violence (via facti), breaking away from all popes (via cessionis), or calling a council to solve the issue (via concilii), though finding the legitimate authority that would call that council was a difficult task. These were the respective “ways” chosen by ecclesiastics and princes. Although with hindsight we now know that a council did solve the Schism, it remains that the prospect of violence against an unjust ruler lingered throughout the period. This type of violence was effectively used in the early years of the Schism (the so-called via facti). In the secular world, it was used in the case of the 1399 deposition and eventual murder of Richard II, as well as the violent murder of Louis of Orléans in 1407. The latter will be emphasized because of its long-lasting consequences for the Schism.

Tyranny

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ny discussion of tyrannicide begins with the ancient Greeks and their definition of a tyrant as a ruler who gained power through unconstitutional means. Devoid of negative connotations in its early iteration, the definition took a disparaging turn with Aristotle, who presented it as the antithesis of perfect governance, monarchy. Without recommending tyrannicide, Aristotle suggested that most tyrants ended up dead at the

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Tyranny k 149 hands of their subjects; and the ones who survived did so by ruling well, that is, like kings.13 Republican Romans adapted Greek thought to their own proclivities and showed no qualms at the killing of tyrants, who were in this case defined as having royal pretensions. The killing of Caesar by his friends was rationalized by men like Cicero and Seneca, who saw tyrants as diseased animals or limbs that needed to be cut off from the body politic. It is this ancient “classical” trend that reappeared in the late Middle Ages.14 By the end of the fourteenth century, tyranny was defined as usurpation or taking power illegitimately.15 In Bernard Guenée’s view, Bartolus de Sassoferato (1313–1357), a leading thinker of the time, forewent all the various definitions inherited from his past when he defined the tyrant as solely the one who had seized government illegitimately. A few decades later, the Great Schism made of tyranny a daily concern for the clerics. The other pope, and soon the two popes were in their eyes usurpers, tyrants who had appropriated power, criminals who by maintaining the schism committed the highest of all sins, divine lese-majesty.16

Guenée intuitively understood that the Schism had to affect any discussion of political legitimacy, and I would add anyone who had been in/formed by the crisis. On the other hand, he offers no evidence. Through various contemporary examples, this chapter will gauge the weight of the crisis on the construction of, and responses to, tyranny. During the Schism, did the vocabulary of tyranny and usurpation spill into the “reality” of the political world? Was there a performance of tyranny?

13

14

15

16

See Anna Lisa Merklin Lewis, “Tyrannicide: Heresy or Duty?: The Debates at the Council of Constance,” PhD dissertation, Cornell University 1990, 19–16; and Aristotle, Politics: A New Translation, trans. C. D. C. Reeve (Indianapolis: Hackett, 2017). For a thorough survey of the concept of tyrannicide, see Mario Turchetti, Tyrannie et tyrannicide de l’Antiquité à nos jours (Paris: PUF, 2001), 31–123, for Greece; 125–216, for Rome; 186–217, for Judaism and Christianity; and 218–334, for the Middle Ages. See, for example, Manfredi Piccolomini, The Brutus Revival: Parricide and Tyrannicide during the Renaissance (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1991); Jean-Luc Nardone, “‘Mort à César!’ Naissance et diffusion du topos du Brutus tyrannicide chez les républicains florentins de la Renaissance,” Cahiers d’études romanes 30 (2015): 73–93. Bernard Guenée, Un meurtre, une société: L’assassinat du Duc d’Orléans, 23 novembre 1407 (Paris: Gallimard, 1992), 192. Guenée, Un meurtre, 193. Bartolus was the most prominent medieval commentator of Roman civil law. He was Holy Roman Emperor Charles IV’s legal counselor. Among many other topics, he wrote on war, rivers, and political legitimacy. See, Osvaldo Cavallar, “River of Law,” in A Renaissance of Conflicts: Visions and Revisions of Law and Society in Italy and Spain, ed. John A Marino and Thomas Kuehn (Toronto: Centre for Reformation and Renaissance Studies, 2004), 31–129; Osvaldo Cavallar, Susanne Degenring, and Julius Kirshner, A Grammar of Signs: Bartolo da Sassoferrato’s Tract on Insignia and Coats of Arms (Berkeley: University of California at Berkeley, 1995); Ephraim Emerton, Humanism and Tyranny (1925, repr. Gloucester: P. Smith, 1964); Danilo Segoloni, ed., Convegno commemorativo del VI centenario di Bartolo: Bartolo da Sassoferrato Studi e Documenti Per Il VI Centenario (Milano: Giuffrè, 1962); Anna T. Sheedy, Bartolus on Social Conditions in the Fourteenth Century (New York: Columbia University Press, 1942); and C. N. S. Woolf, Bartolus of Sassoferrato: His Position in the History of Medieval Political Thought (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1913).

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150 l conflicting legitimacy It is necessary here to define exactly what unjust rule entailed to a contemporary of the Schism.17 Anna Lisa Merklin Lewis summarizes medieval views most clearly: In medieval discussions of tyranny a distinction was made between two types: tyranny quoad executionem, referring to the rule of a bad king or despot with proper title to the throne, and tyranny quoad titulum, referring to a usurper. Virtually all medieval theorists believed that a usurper could be killed legitimately by anyone, although some commentators argued that killing should be a last resort. However, they stated that even though a usurper lacked the right to rule, the consent of the people would eventually give him legitimacy and confer on him the right to demand obedience from his subjects.18

Bartolus de Sassoferrato sharply delineated “between power unlawfully acquired and power unlawfully exercised.”19 He differentiated between the ones who held power ex defectu tituli and ex parte exercitii, that is, between usurpers and despots.20 This approach seems to have run counter to that of Thomas Aquinas. According to John Finnis, In the writings of his last period, however . . . [Aquinas] seems to have lost interest in the contrast between usurpers and other kinds of tyrant. In either kind of tyranny, the injustice of tyrannical exercises of authority renders them devoid of authority in the conscience of the subject . . . there remains considerable scope for acts of war against the leader or leaders of a regime which is not merely tyrannical but violent, and who cannot otherwise be stopped from pursuing their oppression.21

Though Bartolus’s On Tyranny avoided Aquinas’s harshness, was written some thirty years before the initiation of the Schism, and was addressed to secular rulers, it could nevertheless make popes and clerics distinctly uncomfortable, especially after 1378. Bartolus defined usurper as being one ex defectu tituli (who lacked a sound title), one who governed arbitrarily, who was of a proud spirit, who was “chosen unlawfully,” “crowned without being elected,” and who “did not rule according to law” (non jure principatur).22 Described as wallowing in pride (superbia), this form of tyrant had usurped power from “regular, established government.”23 Thus, contemporaries of the Schism had a clear understanding

17

For the most pertinent studies, see Jaszi Oscar and John D. Lewis, Against the Tyrant (Glencoe: The Free Press, 1957); Cary J. Nederman, “A Duty to Kill: John of Salisbury’s Theory of Tyrannicide,” The Review of Politics 50, no. 3 (1988): 365–89; Merklin Lewis, “Tyrannicide;” Piccolomini, The Brutus Revival; Shannon K. Brincat, “‘Death to Tyrants’: The Political Philosophy of Tyrannicide – Part I,” Journal of International Political Theory 4, no. 2 (2008): 212–40; Martin John Cable, “Cum essem in Constantie . . .”: Raffaele Fulgosio and the Council of Constance 1414–1415 (Leiden: Brill, 2015). 18 Merklin Lewis, “Tyrannicide,” 19. See also Fritz Kern, Kingship and Law in the Middle Ages, trans. S. B. Chrimes (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1956), 101; and Ford, Political Murder, 120–45. 19 Clarke, The Medieval City-State, 137. 20 Merklin Lewis, “Tyrannicide,” 44. 21 John Finnis, Aquinas: Moral, Political, and Legal Theory (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998), 290. 22 Emerton, Humanism and Tyranny, 127. 23 Emerton, Humanism and Tyranny, 128.

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Was the Pope a Tyrant? He Was a Usurper! k 151 of the performance of tyranny; secular civil law defined the term. As we will see, a usurper did not need to be named tyrant to be recognized as one. Performing tyranny – acting as a tyrant – made you one. The definition hinged on performance. During the Schism, either obedience could argue that Bartolus’s definition fitted the opposing pope. Bartolus asks in paragraph 13: What is a manifest tyrant by defect of title in a commonwealth? My answer is: One who rules there openly without a lawful title, as is evident from our previous definition. This may happen in divers [sic] ways. First, if the city or fortified place (castrum) in which he lives has not the right to choose its own ruler, and one acts there as ruler, he is a tyrant because he is ruling contrary to law, and he is subject to the lex Julia majestatis. The same is true if an official, after his term of office has expired, continue [sic] in it against the will of him who has the right of decision (ad quem spectat) [probably the overlord].24

The accusation of ruling “openly without a lawful title” could be used against either pope, because one was bound to be, according to the other. At a time when a “lust for liberty,” to use Samuel K. Cohn Jr.’s title, traveled north, south, east, and west of the Alps; when under the banner of liberty, cities and villages rebelled against “tyranny”; when the idea of leaders “serving” and not “lording” over people spread, the language of usurpation took meaning.25 As Cohn’s study demonstrates, hundreds of chronicles between 1220 and 1425 used the language of tyranny; the weight it carried was not lost on the cardinals. Calling a pope “usurper” facilitated the delegitimization of the opponent if not his physical elimination.

Was the Pope a Tyrant? He Was a Usurper!

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here is little doubt that from the start of the Schism, it was the Clementists who initiated the usage of the epithet intrusus for Urban VI. But a word of caution is needed. The historiography is muddled with biases that influenced the rhetoric used to describe the pope. Urban was not a tyrant according to the standard definition, but he was “illegitimate,” and he performed tyranny: he was feared and did not respect his financial obligations. Obviously, Clementists then and later had to rationalize their views by demonizing the rival pope. If they found the election illegitimate, it is logical that they would label the pope “usurper.” Dietrich of Nieheim, a partisan of Urban VI, describes the Clementists’ efforts to discredit Urban. He notes that early on the cardinals in Anagni began the process to demonstrate that they had elected “Bartholomaeum Barensem” (using the name “Bartolomeo of Bari” rather than “Pope Urban”) wrongfully.26 They made their first public attack on Urban on August 9, 1378, during a sermon after mass, when they

24 25

26

Emerton, Humanism and Tyranny, 132. Samuel K. Cohn, Lust for Liberty: The Politics of Social Revolt in Medieval Europe, 1200–1425: Italy, France, and Flanders (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2008). “Cardinales, inquit, in Anagnia hujusmodi contra ipsum processum inchoarunt, in quo eum Bartholomaeum Barensem in papatu intrusum nominarunt.” Baronio, Annales, 26: 316.

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152 l conflicting legitimacy uttered the word “usurper.”27 Speaking for the Clementists, the author that Étienne Baluze considered Pope Gregory XI’s “second biographer” has no qualms about liberally using the word “usurper” throughout his text.28 He explains how despite Urban’s prohibition that cardinals leave the city, they surreptitiously left Rome, soon after the election, “two one day, one the other, one with permission and one without,” and reached Anagni to “initiate procedure against this usurper who wanted the papacy so badly that he did not fear using violence.”29 The use of violence characterized the performance of tyranny. When his narrative reaches the declaration of August 9, he explains that it was pronounced in Anagni Cathedral, “and after the sermon they had a cleric read the declaration against the usurper.”30 Note here the public aspect of the condemnation and the reliance on “hearing.”31 The letter named the Apostolic seat vacant (apostolica Sede vacante) and the election illegitimate, using phrases such as “nefarious intrusion in the papacy” (nepharia intrusio in papatu).32 A survey of Clementist narratives of the Schism unveils abundant evidence of the construction of Urban VI as usurper. Being named usurper easily led to tyranny.33 Baluze’s first volume dedicated to the lives of the Avignon popes counts some sixty incidences of the word intrusus (usurper) attached to Urban VI. The word intrusus appears nowhere before the first life of Gregory XI, the pope whose death precipitated the Schism. Discussing the conclave that followed Gregory’s death, the author describes Romans petitioning the cardinals for the election of a Roman, or at least an Italian. The cardinals replied that the election should be free from constraints in order to be canonical; if it were not, the one elected would be illegitimate, “Ille non esset papa, sed intrusus.”34 The word intrusus is used liberally in the second life of Gregory XI. For example, its anonymous author states, “after a few days the lord cardinals left Rome, and no French remained in the city. They all went to Anagni where they wished to proceed against the said usurper.”35 Most of all, intrusus anchors the French cardinals’ August 9 declaration that 27

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34 35

“Ad aliam diem prorogarunt, et eis proragationem notificari fecerunt, et illa die prorogata in eorum missa cum solemni missa et sermone publicaverunt ipsum Bartholomaeum intrusum et anathematizatum.” Baronio, Annales, 26: 316. On the value of this testimony, see Guillaume Mollat, Étude critique sur les vitae paparum avenionensium (Paris: Librairie Letouzey et Ané, 1917), 43. “Duo una die, unus alia, unus cum licentia, alter sine licenti . . .. Volentes procedere contra dictum intrusum, qui sic violenter voluit tenere papatum.” Baluze, Vitae, 1: 448. “Post sermonem fecerunt legere per unum clericum declarationem contra intrusum.” Baluze, Vitae, 1: 450. See Bernard J. Hibbitts, “‘Coming to Our Senses’: Communication and Legal Expression in Performance Cultures,” Emory Law Journal 41 (1992): 873–960, who was first in linking senses to the performance of the law. Baluze, Vitae, 1: 448. Of course, these sources were biased and prone to exaggerate negative language, but their editor, the great Étienne Baluze, is recognized today as a founder of modern historical methodology. He managed to somewhat balance his accounts. See Jean Boutier, Étienne Baluze, 1630–1718: Érudition et pouvoirs dans l’Europe classique (Limoges: PULIM, 2008); and Guillaume Mollat, Étude critique sur les vitae paparum avenionensium d’Étienne Baluze (Paris: Librairie Letouzey et Ané, 1917). Baluze, Vitae, 1: 432. “Post paucos vero dies domini cardinales inceperunt exire Romam . . . taliter quod nullus Gallicus remansit; et omnes iverunt Anagniam, volentes procedere contra dictum intrusum.” Baluze, Vitae, 1: 448; the following paragraph states,

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Was the Pope a Tyrant? He Was a Usurper! k 153 delegitimized Urban’s election. After the Italian patriarch of Constantinople officiated a solemn mass of the Holy Spirit in Anagni cathedral, and preached the sermon, a cleric denounced the usurper in the name of the cardinals.36 In dramatic terms, the cardinals rationalized their acts by their faith, for the good of the Church. In a language full of scriptural images and references (their defense of Peter’s boat threatening to capsize if not rescued from pirates’ attacks, among many others), they anathemized Urban and declared him usurper and tyrant.37 Liturgy, language, location, participants, and officiants legitimated the French cardinals’ action. A copy of a letter from Queen Joanna of Naples employs similar language, this time calling Urban “the usurper from Naples, formerly bishop of Bari.”38 Similarly, the word abounds in renditions of the life of Clement VII, where “dictum Bartholomeum intrusum” becomes a leitmotif.39 It is of note that the Clementists’ refusal to simply name him “Pope Urban VI” in their declarations already intimated that he was neither worthy of the title nor its legitimate holder.40 Behavior, thus “performance,” could define illegitimacy. Urban VI, it was argued, was not only a usurper but he behaved like someone who had no legitimacy. The anonymous author of Gregory XI’s second life adds that the usurper “traveled (rode) like a fool, without a cross or the Host preceding him, and without any of the cardinals, and went to a city,

Et stando domini cardinales, videlicet Lemovicensis, de Agrifolio, Gebennensis, Glandevensis, Pictavensis, Britannie, Ambianensis, Vivariensis, Majoris monasterii, Sancti Eustachii, Sancti Angeli, de Vernhio et de Luna in Anagnia, et ibi steterunt per aliquos dies in consilio cum eis, et postea reversi sunt ad dictum intrusum. Et post paucos vero dies dominus cardinalis de Ursinis venit iterum Anagniam, deinde reversus est ad dictum intrusum; et mora facta cum eo per paucos dies, ex toto omnes dimiserunt eum, et venerunt prope Anagniam per octo miliaria, ubi postea magno steterunt tempore. 36

37

Baluze, Vitae, 1: 449. “domini cardinales Gallici fecerunt celebrare sollempniter unam missam de Sancto Spiritu in ecclesia majori Anagnie per dominum patriarcham Constantinopolitanum, natione Ytalicum, de comitatu Fundorum. Et dicta missa, ipsemet sermocinavit. Et post sermonem fecerunt legere per unum clericum declarationem contra intrusum.” Baluze, Vitae, 1: 449. Urget nos Christi caritas, urget et zelus fidei, urget certe Petri navicula, quam continuis concussam fluctibus cernimus procelloso in equore nauta piratico circumdati . . . ipsum anathematizatum et tanquam intrusum in papatu, nulla canonica electione, totius christianitatis invasorem, qui caput ipsius christianitatis invadere non formidat, destructoremque, qui [ut] sub sua occupatione tirannica efficere satagit ut fere sacramenta deficiant et [ut] christicola populus vero pastore carens ducatur in devium per abrupta, publicamus et etiam denuntiamus.

Baluze, Vitae, 1: 453–54. “Sane credimus in toto regno nostro Sicilie et in omnibus regnicolis nostrisque comitatibus Provincie et Forqualquerii manifestum . . . quod etiam ad partes totius Ytalie ac ad remotas et varias mundi partes transivit notitia qualiter occupata Sedes apostolica contra canonicas sanctiones per intrusum illum de Neapoli, olim episcopum Barense.” Baluze, Vitae, 1: 455. For further examples in the lives of Gregory XI, see pages 450, 452–53, 456–57, 459. 39 Baluze, Vitae, 1: 470. The word is used on every single page from 470–79, then on 482, 484–86, 491, 494–98. 40 Leaving the “usurping” pope unnamed was a frequent tactic used even in artistic context, see Anne D. Hedeman, “Pierre Salmon’s Advice for a King,” Gesta 32 (1993): 117. 38

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154 l conflicting legitimacy which is called Tivoli.”41 Here the performative clue was visual. No papal cortege would have stooped to such a level of ceremonial inadequacy; only a false pope who did not know what he was doing could travel in such a way. Other documents, such as the Libri de Schismate offered to the Spanish kings of Aragon and Castile, contain depositions arguing for the Clementist side. These documents, described in the 1940s by Michael Seidlmayer, gather a wide array of information.42 The inquest catalogued in the documents started in 1379, and was pursued into 1380–1381, with some 150 individuals from all ranks interrogated about what they saw during the 1378 papal election. Accusations of usurpation abound; for example, “he declares Bartolomeo usurper and our lord Pope Clement VII true shepherd.”43 Note here the insistence on language: the witness identifies Pope Urban VI, by his first name of Bartolomeo, while Robert of Geneva gets the full “honors” of his title, Pope Clement VII.44 In his May 1381 petition to Clement VII regarding a decision by Urban VI allowing Spanish bishops to not turn over to the king the “fruits that they had levied,” the king of Castile called Urban “el intruso.”45 The language actually became so ingrained that the Libri usually categorized Urban VI and his faction with the word “usurper.”46 For the largely French Clementist obedience, intrusus was the accepted designation for the “illegitimate” pope, Urban VI. A subtler means of delegitimization, as we have seen, “Et videns dictus intrusus sic omnes cardinales recessisse, exivit Romam et die xxvj junii equitavit quasi stultus sine cruce precedente et sine corpore Christi et sine illo cardinali, et ivit ad unam civitatem que vocatur Tiburis.” Baluze, Vitae, 1: 448. 42 Michael Seidlmayer, “Die spanischen ‘Libri de Schismate’ des Vatikanischen Archivs,” Gesammelte Aufsätze zur Kulturgeschichte Spaniens (Spanischen Forschungen der Görresgesellschaft, Reihe I) Band 8 (Münster in Westfalen: Aschendorffsche Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1940), 199–262; and Die Anfänge des grossen abendländischen Schismas Studien zur Kirchenpolitik insbesondere der spanischen Staaten und zu den geistigen Kämpfen der Zeit (Münster in Westfalen: Aschendorff, 1940). On these Vatican registers, see also Leslie Macfarlane, “An English Account of the Election of Urban VI (1378),” Historical Research 26 (1953): 75–85; Andreas Rehberg, “Le inchieste dei re d’Aragona e di Castiglia sulla validità dell’elezione di Urbano VI nei primi anni del Grande Scisma – alcune piste di ricerca,” in L’età dei processi: Inchieste e condanne tra politica e ideologia nel ‘300. Atti del convegno di studio svoltosi in occasione della XIX edizione del premio internazionale Ascoli Piceno, Ascoli Piceno, Palazzo dei Capitani, 30 novembre–1 dicembre 2007, ed. A. Rigon and F. Veronese (Roma: Atti del premio internazionale Ascoli Piceno, 2009), 247–304; and “Il rione Trastevere e i suoi abitanti nelle testimonianze raccolte sugli inizi dello Scisma del 1378,” in Trastevere: Un analisi di lungo periodo, Convegno di Studi, Roma, 13–14 marzo 2008, ed. L. Ermini Pani and C. Travaglini (Roma: Miscellanea della Società Romana di Storia Patria, 2010), 255–317. 43 “Declaravit . . . Bartholomeum intrusum et dom. papam Clemente in papam septimum verum pastorem.” Seidlmayer, Die Anfänge, 249. 44 In 1380, Cardinal Pierre de la Vergne declared, “et alius B. est intrusus et fuit positus per impressionem Romanorum.” Similarly, Cardinal Pierre Flandrin repeated, “Barensis esset intrusus.” Seidlmayer, Die Anfänge, 244, 245. 45 “Que provea de nuevo et ratifique las provisiones de los obispados fechas por el intruso, otrosi que los proveidos de illos non sean tenidos a tornar los fruitos que han levado.” Seidlmayer, Die Anfänge, 316. Other examples can be found on pages 327, 249, 252, 316, 332, 334, 336–38, 342, 355. 46 “Ea que sunt facti pro parte intrusi.” Seidlmayer, “Die spanischen ‘Libri de Schismate,’” 203. Another example is found in the following chapters’ titles, “Informaciones tradite mag. Stephano Fortis ad informandum dom. infantem Petrum de Aragonia super suis revelacionibus, ubi continentur multa mala de Roma, de Romanis et de intruso” and “Secuntur ea que sunt facti in scismate principali pro parte intrusi.” Seidlmayer, “Die spanischen ‘Libri de Schismate,’” 207, 213. 41

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Was the Pope a Tyrant? He Was a Usurper! k 155 was to un-name Pope Urban and revert to his first name or former title of bishop of Bari. Un-naming belonged to the panoply of humiliation. Illegitimacy, of course, was a concept that varied with obedience. There are very few instances of the word intrusus being used by the Urbanists against the Clementists. And when it was, the direct phrase “Clement is a usurper,” was usually replaced with a rather generic “opponent” defined as “usurper,” and in certain cases “heretical.” For example, in May 1379, Urban sent to the episcopate of Liège a bull addressing his legitimacy where he described his opponent as “heretic and usurper.”47 Here the pope followed Canon Law. A heretical pope can be deposed. The language of usurpation is reflected in various sources. The third volume of the Chartularium Universitatis Parisiensis, covering the years 1350–1394, offers several examples of the use of intrusus matching contemporary usage. From 1378 on, university documents described the election as non-canonical and called Urban a usurper of his title.48 A 1379 letter of the king asked the university to establish that Bartolomeo was “intrus ou sainct siège de Rome, et pape Clement Vllme est vray pastour de l’eglise universelle.”49 Still, the fourth volume, covering 1394 to 1452, shows no instances of the word intrusus being linked to Urban, who died in 1389, or to his successors.50 This could mean that Bartolus de Sassoferrato’s idea that an illegitimate ruler can gain legitimacy with the acquiescence of his followers may have gained traction with the continuation of the two obediences. At the initiation of the Schism, Urban may have been considered a usurper, but his obedience gave him legitimacy. It is also probable that after the election of Clement VII’s successor in 1394, the ill will, manifested by both popes toward a solution, slowly changed the rhetoric around them. Minds became set on solving the issue at hand and finding a solution; the question of legitimacy moved to the background. Before the two sides considered union, they made use not just of the language of usurpation but also of tyranny. French insistence on using strong wording such as intrusus facilitated a slide into the vocabulary of tyranny. While the word tyrannus itself was not often uttered for the “illegitimate” Urban, the association of “fear” with “usurpation” led audiences down that path. To strike fear was one aspect of the performance of tyranny – again sensorial performativity. Following contemporary legal constructions (Bartolus’s, for example), a usurper who gained his title by fear was a tyrant. The direct witnesses of Urban’s 1378 election who testified in front of representatives of the Spanish king insist on fear during and especially after the election of Urban VI.51 For the French, fear was the ground on which the election had been uncanonical. For example, the Cardinal de la Vergne, purposefully un-naming the pope states,

“Ad significandum et affirmandum sue electionis factum tanquam canonicum et sue partis adverse hereticum et intrusivum.” Baluze, Vitae, 1: 526. 48 Chartularium Universitatis Parisiensis, 3: 302, 553, 555, 567, 569–70, 572, 576, 582, 589, 593. 49 Chartularium Universitatis Parisiensis, 3: 564. 50 Chartularium Universitatis Parisiensis, 4: 1–738. 51 Louis Gayet, Le grand schisme d’occident d’après les documents contemporains déposés aux Archives Secrètes du Vatican, 2 vols. (Paris: Welter, 1889). On the issue of fear during the election, see my “Civil Violence and the Initiation of the Schism,” in A Companion to the Great Western Schism (1378–1417), ed. Joëlle Rollo–Koster and Thomas Izbicki (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 9–66. 47

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156 l conflicting legitimacy On Easter, I assisted to the coronation of so-called Bartolomeo and I rode throughout town with the other cardinals because I could not act any other way, and I feared that if I showed repugnance in doing so the Romans would put me to death. And so, everything I did in relation to him during that conclave, and after, I did with the fear of death, otherwise I would not have done these things. I never had the intention of acquiescing to what had been done with him; neither did I acquiesce to give him any rights to the papacy.52

The bishop of Assisi knew from conversation with Roman officials that if the cardinals reneged on the election, “they and their servants would be put to death. This was known throughout Rome.”53 Roman militiamen were warning the French not to question the validity of Urban VI’s election, or state “that he had been elected and crowned by force and violence. He is pope, all hold him as such and obey him, and that’s enough for us. He is pope, one must not doubt it, because if anyone would dare question the election, the Romans would certainly cut him to pieces, and his ear would perhaps be the largest chunk left of him.”54 Fear had impeded a canonical election. As cardinals mentioned in their August 9th declaration: Officials compelled the cardinals to elect a Roman or at least an Italian to ensure that the curia remained at Rome . . .. They added that the cardinals had to declare publicly before the whole people that they would comply with the wishes of the population in order to avoid grave perils and danger . . .. They believed that all, or at least the ultramontane cardinals, would have been slain, if one of them had not had the idea of announcing to the people that they had elected the Cardinal of St. Peter.55

Whether the pope accepted it or not, for many cardinals fear had brought an illegitimate election. Again, contemporary lawyers argued that an election carried out under threat was illegitimate; and an illegitimate ruler was a tyrant. If the Clementist party constructed Urban’s illegitimacy on the fact that they considered him a “usurper of his title” who had been elected based on fear, they could also reinforce their claim by defining the pope’s behavior as exceeding the limit of his office, and thus making him doubly illegitimate. This meant that they questioned papal absolutism and believed that the pope had to abide by certain rules that would constrain his authority. Stephan Weiß argues successfully that the core of the cardinals’ rejection of the pope was his austere financial policies, especially his reactions against “their” financial entitlements.56 52 53

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Gayet, Le grand schisme, 2: 84. “Et pro certo, Domini mei, per illa que audivi ab officialibus et ab aliis romanis si Domini Cardinales voluissent electionem impugnare fuissent omnes mortui cum eorum, de hoc in ipsa civitate romana erat publica vox et fama.” Gayet, Le grand schisme, 2: 85. “Sive vi, sive potentia electus fuit et coronatus, papa est, et omnis habent eum pro papa, et sibi obediunt, et sufficit nobis, et papa est, nec debet facere dubium, nam in veritate romani quemcumque faciente dubium ponerent in peciis talibus, quod major pars esset auricular.” Gayet, Le grand schisme, 2: 85–86. These are only a few examples. See Walter Ullmann, The Origins of the Great Schism: A Study in Fourteenth-Century Ecclesiastical History (Leeds: Archon Books, 1967), 69–74. Stefan Weiß, “Luxury and Extravagance at the Papal Court in Avignon and the Outbreak of the Great Western Schism,” in A Companion to the Great Western Schism (1378–1417), ed. Joëlle RolloKoster and Thomas Izbicki (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2009), 67–88. The evidence is clearly presented in the chapter. It does not need to be repeated here.

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Was the Pope a Tyrant? He Was a Usurper! k 157 Arriving with a plan for reforming the Church, something akin to a treaty of deontology, Urban VI decided first to clean up his own house, the curia. He attacked the cardinals’ financial prerogatives and their lifestyle. Weiß argues that Urban thus made financial preoccupations the cornerstone of the French cardinals’ revolt against their pontiff. Urban reneged on the usual electoral gift that a new pope made to his College, a gift of the enormous sum of something between 75,000 and 100,000 florins, usually shared amongst all the cardinals. He attempted to restrain their behavior, starting with the quality of food they ate, and requested that they eat only two courses per meal and that these meals be simple, for example. At the time, the cardinals considered this a total aberration. In addition to these measures, the pope not only pushed for a return of the cardinals to their titular churches, but also asked that they use some of the taxes they collected for their churches’ upkeep. He proposed to set a moratorium on the amount of money foreign authorities offered them and attempted to limit the cardinals’ accumulation of benefices. He then named twenty-nine new cardinals. This large number would outweigh the old College – and its resistance to his reforms – and force the College into sharing revenues amongst a larger pool. The latter reform may have been the last straw: new cardinals were named on September 18th and the rebellious cardinals elected Clement on the 20th. In summary, the pope did not honor cardinals as expected. He did not perform as a pope should. Gundisalvus, a preacher and penitentiary of the pope, states so in his deposition for the Spanish kings, adding that Urban failed in his duty and respect for his College, in words and behavior, and did not act according to the norm established by previous practice.57 He deprived cardinals of their “usual” financial livelihood and standing. This breach of protocol was reinforced by another example, the pope’s behavior toward Italian nobles such as the Count of Fondi, Onorato Caetani. Pope Gregory XI considered the count one of his most faithful barons. He named him rector of Campagna and Marittima, while the count lent the camera some 20,000 florins and physically accompanied the pope on his return to Rome in January 1377. During the conclave that elected Urban, the “Roman commune” expelled most nobles from the city and particularly feared Onorato Caetani’s influence on the city’s population. The count was threatened with beheading if he stayed.58 Once elected, Urban rejected the count’s support. He deprived him of his rectorship in May 1378 and refused to reimburse him the funds he had lent his predecessor. He accused him of having mismanaged monies for personal profit and having deprived the Church of its benefices. This demotion led Caetani to support the rebellious French cardinals, protecting them in Anagni, and then in Fondi where they organized their counter election. Clement VII rewarded the count by reinstituting him in his rectorship, adding the territories of Sennoneta and Bassiano to his possessions and allowing his family the right of succession through the female line since a single daughter

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“Prout ego vidi et audivi et ex. visis et auditis coniecturavi, una fuit, quod dom. Papa verbis et gestibus non honorabat cardinales et alios more precedencium pontificum.” Seidlmayer, Die Anfänge, 297. This worked to the advantage of the French since Caetani, according to rumor, wanted an Italian pope. Caetani had already warned the French that without the guard provided by the nobility the conclave would not be free. See Gayet, Le grand schisme, 1: 89–91, 98.

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158 l conflicting legitimacy survived him after the death of his son. The count remained a staunch defender of the Clementist obedience for the rest of his life.59 In these last two cases, criticism of Urban focused not so much on his supposed illegitimacy but more on his erratic financial “mismanagement.” By contemporary definitions, and if we return to Bartolus’s legal argument, a tyrant neglected the financial obligations he had to his court and others, and he penalized or rewarded on

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The most recent surveys of the count’s career are Maria Teresa Caciorgna, “La contea di Fondi nel XIV secolo,” in Gli ebrei a fondi e nel suo territorio. Atti del convegno fondi, 10 maggio 2012, ed. Giancarlo Lacerenza (Naples: Università degli studi di Napoli “l’orientale”, 2014), 49–88; and a PhD dissertation by Federica Savelli, “I Caetani e la contea di Fondi tra XIV e XV secolo: La produzione artistica e le sue vicende conservative,” PhD dissertation, Università degli studi Roma Tre, 2012. See also Laura Ermini, Onorato primo Caetani e lo Scisma d’Occidente (Roma: Luigi Proja, 1938). Baluze, Vitae, 2: 752–54, details the falling out between Urban and the count. Some of the most relevant parts are as follows: Hunc hominem praepotentem, qui de genere Bonifacii VIII ortus erat, Urbanus VI in ipsis sui pontificatus initiis a se abalienavit per nimiam intemperantiam et cupidinem dominandi. Quippe ab eo abstulit administrationem Campaniae, eamque transtulit ad inimicum ejus capitalem Thomam de Sancto Severino. Hinc graves inimicitiae inter eum et Urbanum; quarum auctorem fuisse Urbanum satis constabat, in primis propter contumeliam adjunctam dejection . . .. §Hanc historiam enarrat in sua depositione homo partium Urbani Thomas de Acervo, episcopus Lucerinus, his verbis: Et quia Anagnie erat comes Fundorum, qui dedebat habere a domino viginti millia florenorum, quos mutuaverat domino Gregorio predecessori suo, et dominus noster nolebat sibi dare, quia credebat se non teneri de jure, quia non apparebat quod mutuum fuisset conversum ad commodum et utilitatem sancte matris Ecclesie seu papatus, et dominus noster non plene confidens de ipso comite, qui erat rector seu comes Campanie, privavit eum illo officio, et fecit comitem Campanie dominum Thomasium de Sancto Severino inimicum comitis Fundorum . . .. Hanc narrationem confirmat frater Menendus episcopus Cordubensis, et ipse homo partium Urbani; qui interrogatus super casu primi electi diviso per articulos, in quo scriptum est Urbanum VI paulo post creationem suam cassasse et revocasse comitem Fundorum ab officio rectoratus Campaniae sibi commissi per sanctae memoriae dominum Gregorium, et ibidem rectorem instituisse dominum Thomam de Sancto Severino, respondit se audivisse dici ut illicit continetur, et quod propter hoc comes Fundorum rebellavit cum Campania et Anagnia contra papam Urbanum, et idem Urbanus loco dicti comitis fecit comitem de Campania dominum Thomam de Sancto Severino magnum baronem regni Neapolitani, qui est inimicus capitalis comitis Fundorum, et revocavit dictum comitem Fundorum de comitatu Campanie antequam recederent cardinales de Roma, ut sibi videtur . . .. Quam ob rem Urbanus illum collocans inter filios iniquitatis, ipsum excommunicavit et anathematizavit ac declaravit privatum quibuscumque dignitatibus, honoribus, gradu et cingulo militiae, ejusque bona publicavit et direptioni exposuit. Vide bullam ejus apud Odoricum Raynaldum, an. 1378, § 108 et Theodericum a Niem, lib. I, De schism., cap. XIX [p. 37]. See also Edmond René Labande, “Caetani, Onorato,” Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani 16 (1973), available at www.treccani.it/enciclopedia/onorato-caetani_res-52667c2b-87e9-11dc-8e9d0016357eee51_(Dizionario-Biografico)/ (accessed on February 23, 2021), who largely follows the Vitae’s narrative; Valois, La France, 1: 13, 16–17, 71, 87, 149–50, 156–57, 159–60, 164, 166, 173, 179–80, 191, 234, 318; 2: 13, 52, 64–83, 160; Laura Ermini and Pietro Fedele, Onorato 1. Caetani conte di Fondi e lo scisma d’Occidente (Roma: Luigi Proja, 1938).

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Richard II k 159 a whim.60 A tyrant behaved outside of the law but also outside of decorum and tradition. If we juxtapose contemporary legal definitions with the cardinals’ reaction to Urban’s behavior, it becomes obvious that the Schism offered a precedent. It also epitomizes for the modern reader the blurring of lines between secular and religious worlds and the medieval inability to separate the political “sacred” from the profane. The Schism demystified the pope to his political core, making him ruler before priest. Reduced to its essential political element, the papal monarchy could be submitted to legal parameters that delimited secular monarchies. A ruler’s behavior, the performance of tyranny, whether by a pope or not, defined the tyrant. It was permissible to depose a tyrant, or even physically eliminate him. In 1378, a pope’s behavior brought his downfall. Once this initial step was taken, nothing prevented an acceleration of the trend. If a pope could be deposed, so could a king. The Schism freed apprehension to openly challenge a political authority that heretofore had been constructed as sacred. As we will see, the case of the English King Richard II is telling. Richard’s access to kingship had been legitimate but his behavior was not; it made him a tyrant.

Richard II ing Richard II grew up with the church of the Schism.61 England had chosen early on to support the Roman line of popes and never flinched in its decision. Regardless of squabbles over revenues, rights, and the reorganization of episcopal sees, Richard respected the spiritual authority of the Roman pope, even if he negotiated temporal arrangements that worked to the crown’s advantage, such as controlling episcopal nominations.62 As Richard Davies states,

K

A good case has been made that Richard was in complete control of the debate [over the Schism] in England and obtained answers from his intellectuals in 1399 that suited both his policies and his conscience. If he had become more alive to the stain on Christian society of two popes, he was no more inclined than before to disbelieve what had always been an article of faith: the legitimacy and authority of Rome. Peace with France had been obtained without any resolution of this difference of opinion, and if some of the French (whose unanimity was never secure) appeared to be moving towards a renunciation of their man in Avignon, that was a welcome step in the right direction.63

Richard grew up in a climate of violence and the impact of the Schism on the level of violence is still unknown. There is no doubt that while the Schism did not propel 60

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Bartolus stated, “7. It should be specially noted that an act of tyranny consists specifically in the oppression of one’s subjects. He is called a tyrant who impoverishes and brings suffering upon his own people, as has been said.” Emerton, Humanism and Tyranny, 129. For his relationship with the Church during the Schism, see Richard G. Davies, “Richard II and the Church,” in Richard II: The Art of Kingship, ed. Anthony Goodman and James L. Gillespie (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2003), 83–106. See Richard G. Davies, “Richard II and the Church in the Years of ‘Tyranny,’” Journal of Medieval History 1 (1975): 329–62; and “The Episcopate and the Political Crisis in England of 1386–1388,” Speculum 51 (1976): 659–93. Davies, “Richard II and the Church,” 95.

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160 l conflicting legitimacy Christianity into a war of religion, attacks against person and property took place. From the Schism’s initiation, violence was expected, with the via facti – the physical elimination of either pope – as the most rudimentary way to end the crisis. Individuals in both obediences were also attacked. A survey of Noël Valois’s history of the Schism in France shows that, in general, high dignitaries fared worse than commoners. Cardinals, aristocrats, and secular and religious officials of all ranks suffered according to their degree of closeness with the popes of the opposing obedience. Some were murdered, some were imprisoned, and many lost properties.64 England’s response to violence was mitigated by Richard’s and the Urbanists’ financial needs. As Edouard Perroy demonstrates, cardinals of the Clementist obedience lost their benefices in England, and Clementist clergy could be imprisoned.65 To assume that the Schism remained a closed-door crisis that did not affect people in their livelihood seems somewhat exaggerated. While it is often argued that the Schism did not cause major sociocultural disruption, it still showcased disunity and sometimes the violence attached to it.66 In the middle of the Hundred Years War, it was obvious that if France chose an obedience, England would choose the other. The British monarchy remained Urbanist, and historians are still debating whether the tendency for Richard to lean toward French opinion, especially abandoning his Roman obedience for “cession” – that is, a Subtraction of Obedience to force both popes’ resignations – led to the end of his reign.67 This change of policy may have separated the king from the majority of his subjects, who remained staunchly Urbanist. In any case, this rapprochement with France was construed as a step toward his “autocracy.”68 It was a step toward his performance of tyranny. Philip Daileader has gone as far as stating that “The baronial rebellion certainly originated elsewhere than in the Schism, yet the Schism played a role in setting the stage for dynastic change in England.”69 However, the scope of Daileader’s article is far too wide to allow him to develop his point. It seems that one way to demonstrate the Schism’s influence on the internal affairs of the English monarchy is to study how the rhetoric of the Schism found its way into the rhetoric of Richard’s enemies. Well aware of the

64

See, for example, Valois, La France, 1: 275, 292; 2: 65, 87, 125, 151, 162, 242, 246, 254, 307. Edouard Perroy, L’Angleterre et le grand schisme d’Occident: Étude sur la politique religieuse de l’Angleterre sous Richard II (1378 – 1399) (Paris: J. Monnier, 1933), especially chapters 2 and 3. 66 See Philip Daileader, “Local Experiences of the Great Western Schism,” in A Companion to the Great Western Schism (1378–1417), ed. Joëlle Rollo-Koster and Thomas Izbicki (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 89–122, for a review of the historiography. I also address this issue in Rollo-Koster, Avignon and Its Papacy, 1309–1417: Popes, Institutions, and Society (Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield, 2015), 239–83. 67 Though dated, Perroy, L’Angleterre et le grand schisme d’occident, remains the standard on the topic. J. J. N. Palmer, “England and the Great Western Schism, 1388–1399,” The English Historical Review 83 (1968): 516–22, disputes Perroy. For Palmer, Richard’s policy during the Schism was not unconditional support to the Roman obedience, even after the end of the war with France. On the contrary, Richard willingly negotiated the way of cession only after the peace with France had been reached and once Richard had married Isabel, the king’s daughter. But in the end, it is Charles VI who ended up postponing meetings and discussions. 68 On England and its Roman allegiance, see John Lowell Leland, “1399: A Royal Revolution Reversed,” Essays in Medieval Studies 21 (2004): 63–79; and Daileader, “Local Experiences of the Great Western Schism,” 94–97, for a review of the current historiography. 69 Daileader, “Local Experiences of the Great Western Schism,” 95. 65

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Richard II k 161 discussions surrounding the Schism, Richard’s opponents used arguments similar to those that proved the “tyranny” of certain popes. And, if a pope could be deposed, why not a king? According to David Carlson, for contemporary witnesses, things soured for the king when in 1386 a “Commission of Governance” was set up to supervise his expenses after the “Wonderful Parliament.”70 In sum, the king failed to perform his charge. Since his refusal to acquiesce to the findings of the Commission would put him in great peril of his life, the young king evaded the Commission for a while and fought the Appellants (the group of nobles who attempted to restrain the king’s spending on his unpopular favorites). Temporarily deposed, he lived through the “Merciless Parliament” of 1388, which eliminated many of his supporters. The Appellants were eventually pardoned, and things remained calm for a decade or so, as Richard rebuilt his supporting base. By the end of summer 1397, the king again feared for his rule and took the offensive by arresting the three great Appellants: Gloucester and Arundel died, while Warwick lost his property. The king grew more authoritative during the next couple of years, his alleged “tyranny” (1397–1399) climaxing with the banishment and disinheritance of Henry Bolingbroke.71 Henry left for exile and came back to seize the throne, forcing Richard’s resignation. By September 1399, the date of Bolingbroke’s accession, “The Record and Process” itemized the charges against the dethroned king. The title of the thirty-three articles of deposition ran from the king’s rejection of counsel, his arrest of earls, the murder of Gloucester, Richard’s Cheshire malefactors, his fines for pardon, the committee of the 1398 Shrewsbury Parliament, his solicitation of papal intervention, his disinheritance of Henry, illegal elections of sheriffs, his default on loans, taxation, and dissipation, to accusations of blank charters, extortion of support from religious authorities, his abuse of council, misappropriation of public goods, royal dissimulation and mutability, abuses of due process, royal infringement of ecclesiastical jurisdiction, the fraudulent impeachment of Archbishop Arundel, and his impeachments of the dukes of Gloucester and Warwick.72 Regardless of accuracy, Richard’s sentencing demonstrates that by the end of the Middle Ages, justice – and not fear and intimidation – belonged to good governance. One of the most obvious rhetorical tools uniting critics of both king and pope is the crucial argument that “fear can afflict even a steadfast man” (Metus qui potest cadere in constantem virum). This is the classic principle found in the Corpus Iuris Civilis, Dig. 4.2.1: “[Ulpianus] Ait praetor: ‘Quod metus causa gestum erit, ratum non habebo’” (that duress shall be a ground for rescinding any disposition). Fear invalidated official acts even if they had been

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The “wonderful Parliament” of November 1386 was a parliamentary session intent on restraining Richard and his chancellor after his perceived failures at leading victory in the Hundred Years War. See David R. Carlson, The Deposition of Richard II: “The Record and Process of the Renunciation and Deposition of Richard II” (1399) (Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies, 2007), 1. Bolinbroke, or Henry of Lancaster, had participated in the revolt of the Appelants in 1387; his actions were pardoned by the king. But in 1398, a remark he made on the character of the king’s rule was considered treasonous and he was exiled. At the death of his father in 1399, he claimed his inheritance, which had been seized by the king. Henry landed in England, attacked and defeated Richard. He was crowned on October 13, 1399. See Chris Given-Wilson, Henry IV (New Heaven: Yale University Press, 2016). Of course, part of it is propaganda. See Carlson, The Deposition of Richard II, 9.

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162 l conflicting legitimacy performed publicly.73 The principle allowed restitution for acts done under fear, compulsion, or duress. Article 2 of King Richard’s deposition, the 1387 “questions to the judges,” had been asked by Richard to defend his prerogatives against Parliament and reinforce monarchical powers, making fear a central argument. This article states that, “and through various threats and terrors and also the fear that can affect a constant [man] he [Richard] introduced, made, and urged them one by one to answer specific questions” (et eos per minas et terrores varias aceciam metus qui possunt cadere in constantes induxit, fecit, et compulit singillatim ad respondendum certis questionibus) [my emphasis].74 The deposition insists that the judges answered the king’s questions in fear, and their answers were invalidated by this fear. Thus, the same jurisdictional logic that had allowed cardinals to separate themselves from a pope they had elected facilitated the deposition of a king, less than a generation later.75 Striking fear in someone was equated with performing tyranny. 73

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The historiography of this question is not as rich as it could be. For its ancient discussion, see S.-W. Zimmern and L. Étienne, Traité des actions, ou, théorie de la procédure privée chez les Romains: Exposé historiquement depuis son origine jusqu’à Justinien (Paris: Toussaint Libraire-Éditeur, 1846), 515–18; Gaii Institutionum iuris civilis commentarii quatuor; or Elements of Roman law by Gaius, ed. and trans. Edward Poste (Oxford: Clarendon press, 1875), 22, 609; Marcus Tullius Cicero, Orationes: With a Commentary by George Long, 4 vols. (London: Whittaker, 1892), 1: 397–404; Fritz von Schwind and Hans Kreller, Römisches Recht: I. Geschichte, Rechtsgang, System des Privatrechtes Römisches Recht (Wien: Springer, 1950), 130; and Emanuela Calore, Considerazioni sulla clausola edittale “quod metus causa gestum erit, ratum non habebo” (Rome: Universitalia, 2010). This principle is discussed in a medieval context by Leidulf Melve, Inventing the Public Sphere: The Public Debate during the Investiture Contest (c. 1030–1122), 2 vols. (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 2: 417–18, where the author states, “The author of the Disputatio vel defensio Paschalis papae quotes Roman law to address the legal aspect of the concession of investiture in 1111. King Henry V had used force and threats to obtain the pravilige and, according to Roman law, it was thereby invalid: ‘what happens through force or fear has no validity’.” For its context in coerced marriage, see David Sereno, Whether the Norm Expressed in Canon 1103 Is of Natural Law or of Positive Church Law (Rome: Pontificia università gregoriana, 1997). Finally, it is discussed in its theological context by Odd Langholm, The Legacy of Scholasticism in Economic Thought (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 34–37. For the early modern period, see Wim Decock, Theologians and Contract Law: The Moral Transformation of the Ius Commune (ca. 1500–1650) (Leiden: Nijhoff, 2013), 240–47. Carlson, The Deposition of Richard II, 31. As Lynn Staley states, “In the questions Richard posed to his handpicked judges in the fall of 1387 about the legality of the Wonderful Parliament, we can detect a desire to articulate more clearly the nature of the office he held.” Lynn Staley, Languages of Power in the Age of Richard II (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2006), 103. See also Stanley. B. Chrimes, “Richard II’s Questions to the Judges,” Law Quarterly Review 72 (1956): 365–90; and D. Clementi, “Richard II’s Ninth Question to the Judges,” The English Historical Review 86 (1971): 96–113. See, for example, the cardinals’ declaration: Necnon metu et ipsius metus causa adhuc proculdubio perdurantibus in Urbe ipsa, inthronizatus et coronatus de facto papam et Apostolicum se nominavit qui a sanctis patribus, et jure communi apostaticus, anathematizatus antichristus, et totius Christianitatis illusor, ac destructor potius et merito nominantur, nempe cum ista sua tam nefaria intrusio in papatu jam sit sic divulgata per orbem, veluti tam notoria, quod jam alicubi celari non potest, cum eo tempore, scilicet ante Pascha, facta fuerit, quando de universis partibus Christianitatis major adest in Urbe populi multitude. Baronio, Annales, 26: 317. I address the issue of fear in “Civil Violence and the Initiation of the Schism,” in A Companion to the Great Western Schism (1378–1417), ed. Joëlle Rollo-Koster and Thomas Izbicki (Leiden: Brill, September 2009), 9–66.

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Richard II k 163 Apart from the obvious issues of Article 10 (Solicitation of Papal Intervention), the deposition constructed Richard’s tyranny in parallel with accusations against the popes of the Schism. First on the list of accusations against Richard stood what could be labeled misuse of public funds. Financial mismanagement framed the performance of tyranny. The Clementists similarly accused Pope Urban of many financial exactions. As noted previously, he had not rewarded cardinals as was customary after his election; he had instead harassed and bullied them.76 Urban had also annulled his debt to the count of Fondi, Onorato Caetani. Discussing the so-called tyranny of Richard II in light of his financial activities, Caroline Barron states: In the summer of 1397 Richard II began to tyrannize his people. Thomas Walsingham drew this conclusion from his observation of the activities of the commissioners who had been sent around England at this time, to raise loans for the Crown. The medieval mind, steeped as it was in Aristotle’s analysis of tyranny, believed that the misuse of the property of a subject provided the criterion of tyrannical behaviour by a ruler. In the words of Sir John Fortescue, “When the king ruleth his realm only to his own profit and not to the good of his subjects, he is a tyrant.” Unlike Walsingham, the men who drafted the deposition articles of 1399 refrained from accusing Richard of behaving tyrannically, although the conduct alleged in one of the articles might well pass as a contemporary definition of tyranny: bona sic levata non ad commodum et utilitatem Regni Anglie convertendo, set ad sui nominis ostentationem et pompam ac vanam gloriam prodige dissipando.77

When the Annals of St. Albans – center of monastic culture and literacy for centuries and home to prolific chroniclers, including Thomas Walsingham for our period – first used the language of tyranny against the king, his tyranny was linked to financial mismanagement with his exorbitant levies.78 England may have remained Urbanist, but for English chroniclers the financial exactions levied by a political leader made him a tyrant. Urban’s enemies could state the same. They constructed Urban’s illegitimacy not only making him intrusus but also irresponsible in his financial management. Richard’s critics employed the same method. 76 77

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For examples of the pope’s “callous behavior,” see Gayet, Le grand schisme, 2: 145–46, 159, 160, 161, Barron, “The Tyranny of Richard II,” 1. She clarifies on the same page Henry IV’s reticence at using the word “tyrant” per se, as a way of preserving the dignity of the men who had acquiesced to Richard’s rule. The Benedictines of St. Albans produced a long list of chroniclers between the thirteenth and fifteenth centuries (Roger Wendover, Matthew Paris, William Rishanger, and Thomas Walsingham, for example) who epitomize the best of English Benedictine culture during the Middle Ages. The Annals state, “Unum certe scitur, quod ab illo tempore coepit tyrannizare, populum apporiare, grandes summas pecuniae mutuari, ita quod nullus praelatus, nulla civitas, nullus civis, nullus omnino notatus dives, per totam Angliam, sic se potuit occultare, quin oportuit de sua pecunia mutuum Regi dare.” John de Trokelowe, Henry T. Riley, and Henry Blaneforde, Johannis de Trokelowe, et Henrici de Blaneforde, monachorum S. Albani, necnon quorundam anonymorum, chronica et annales, regnantibus Henrico Tertio, Edwardo Primo, Edwardo Secundo, Ricardo Secundo, et Henrico Quarto (London: Longman, 1866), 199–200. The annals state further, “sed plus se tyrannum quam regem deinceps moribus exhiberet,” 219; “Nec audebat quisquam pro veritate stare, vel fateri quod verum fuit, propter Regis tyrannidem atque malitiam,” 223; “tunc regnantium tyrannorum,” 240.

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164 l conflicting legitimacy Caroline Barron further examines the financial exactions that were at the core of accusations against the king: Richard borrowed funds that he never repaid, sometimes requesting that lenders forgive the loan. He also exacted a fee for letters of pardon granted to the rebels who had joined the Appellants (Gloucester, Arundel, and Warwick) against him in 1387–1388. In some cases, they had to buy their pardons twice, a practice that in some cases Barron calls “extortion.”79 “Traitors” were required to sign blank charters that put them at the mercy of the king; Richard then had “carte blanche” to do as he wished with these individuals and their property, most often requiring monetary sureties if he passed through their lands.80 Abusive levies were construed as a breach of Richard’s coronation oath. This oath required that he would serve the Church, its clergy and his people, and ascertain justice to be equitable, and the law, fair. The articles of deposition actually began with the king’s coronation oath.81 This breach of faith – this failure at performing the king’s duty toward his subjects – is in direct parallel with accusations of breach of faith levied against Benedict XIII by his own Clementist obedience, and against John XXIII, by his. Popes and king were accused of having failed their sworn responsibilities and the expectations of their offices. They were all deposed on those grounds.

The French Subtraction of Obedience (1398) ccording to the “Narratio de morte Clementis vii et electione Benedicti xiii” found in Étienne Baluze’s Vitae paparum avenionensium, Clement VII died on Wednesday, September 16, 1394, at the hour of sext (noon). At vespers, Cardinals met in the camera paramenti, the ceremonial chamber of the palace, to discuss the future election. The author lists twenty-one of the twenty-four cardinals present. Clement was buried on the 18th, at

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Barron, “The Tyranny of Richard II,” 11. She substantiates all the charges and to some extent defends Richard as having been “Frightened into tyranny.” Barron, “The Tyranny of Richard II,” 18. See Carlson, The Deposition of Richard II, 29–54, for the thirty-three articles of deposition, beginning with the oath: Seruabis ecclesie dei, cleroque et populo, pacem ex integro et concordiam in deo, secundum vires tuas? Respondebit, seruabo. Facies fieri in omnibus iudiciis tuis equam et rectam iusticiam et discrecionem, in misericordia et
veritate, secundum vires tuas? Respondebit, faciam. Concedis iustas leges et consuetudines esse tenendas et promittis per te eas esse protegendas, et ad honorem dei corroborandas quas vulgus elegerit, secundum vires tuas? Respondebit, concedo et promitto. By the end of the Middle Ages, oath-keeping had become a trademark of the aristocracy and of the “mirrors of princes,” the didactical books offered to princes usually at the beginning of their rules. As Renate Blumenfeld-Kosinski remarks, “Keeping oaths was one of the central values in all mirrors of princes, but particularly in texts that date from the time of the French civil wars and the Great Schism, such as Christine de Pizan’s Livre de paix of 1412–13.” Renate Blumenfeld-Kosinski, “Jean de Montreuil’s 1417 Invective against King Sigismund: Hatred, Rumor, and Public Opinion after Agincourt,” in De Christine de Pizan à Hans-Robert Jauss: Études offertes à Earl Jeffrey Richards par ses collègues et amis à l’occasion de son soixante-cinquième anniversaire, ed. Danielle Buschinger and Roy Rosenstein (Amiens: Centre d’Études médiévales de Picardie, 2017), 180.

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The French Subtraction of Obedience k 165 terce (9 a.m.). The body had been carried from the palace’s great chapel to Avignon’s cathedral. At the end of the novena on Saturday the 26th at vespers (around 6 p.m.), the twenty-one cardinals entered in conclave, and on September 28th, they unanimously elected Pedro de Luna, cardinal deacon of S. Maria in Cosmedin. The speed of the election indicates the smoothness of the process. No long, protracted negotiations marred Benedict’s nomination. A second iteration of the account adds that Clement was buried next to John XXII in Notre-Dame des Doms, and that the new pope was ordained priest on Saturday, October 3rd. He celebrated his first mass the following Sunday, October 11th, and was subsequently consecrated and crowned. To celebrate his election, he rode throughout the city of Avignon, according to custom.82 Still, Baluze adds to his compilation a “cedula cardinalium congregatorum in conclavi in quo Benedictus xiii electus est,” that enlightens its readers on the conditions imposed on the new pope. Before the election, the cardinals made themselves agree on a pact to end the pestiferum scisma and to cure the ills of the Church for the salvation of all souls.83 Each and all promised on the Bible to work toward unity if elected without fraud, deceit, or machination, and to labor faithfully and diligently toward the common goal of unity. The description of the cedula specifies the location of this oath: in front of the altar where the conclave mass had taken place, a sacred space, imposing great solemnity and sanctity

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Baluze, Vitae, 1: 538–39. Martin de Alpartil, Cronica actitatorum temporibus Benedicti XIII Pape, ed. and trans. Jose Angel Sesma Mufioz and Maria del Mar Agudo Romeo (Zaragoza: Gobierno de Aragón: Centro de Documentación Bibliográfica Aragonesa, 1994), 8, offers a similar account. Nos omnes et singuli sancte romane Ecclesie cardinales congregati pro electione futura in conclavi ante altare, in quo missa communis celebrari consuevit, pro Dei servitio, unitate Ecclesie sue sancte, ac salute animarum fidelium omnium promittimus et juramus ad sancta Dei evangelia corporaliter per nos tacta quod absque fraude, dolo et machinatione quibuscumque ad unionem Ecclesie et finem imponendum scismati, proth dolor, in Ecclesia nunc vigenti quantum in nobis erit laborabimus fideliter et diligenter, et per nos, quantum ad nos seu etiam pertinebit, dabimus pastori nostro et gregis dominici ac vicario Christi, domino nostro futuro qui erit pro tempore, auxilium, consilium et favorem, nec ad impediendum vel differendum premissa dabimus consilium vel favorem, directe vel indirecte, publice vel occulte, et ista omnia et singula et alias etiam ultra premissa omnes vias utiles et accommodas ad utilitatem Ecclesie et unionem predictam ejusdem sane et veraciter, sine machinatione seu excusatione vel dilatione quacumque servabit et procurabit possethenus quilibet nostrum, etiamsi assumptus fuerit ad apostolatum, etiam usque ad cessionem inclusive per ipsum de papatu faciendam, si dominis cardinalibus qui nunc sunt vel erunt in futurum de hiis qui sunt nunc vel majori parti eorumdem hoc pro bono Ecclesie et unitatis predicte videatur expedire. Baluze, Vitae, 1: 540–42. Valois, La France, 3:14, offers a somewhat different translation drawn from several sources, but the gist of the oath remains constant: “Nous promettons sur l’évangile de travailler de toutes nos forces à l’union, de ne rien faire, de ne rien dire qui soit de nature à l’empêcher ou simplement à la retarder. Nous suivrons loyalement, si nous devenons pape, toutes les voies profitables conduisant à l’union, y compris la voie de cession, au cas où la majorité des cardinaux actuels le jugerait à propos.” The cedula is also mentioned in Cardinals Thury and Lagrange’s casus transcribed by Franz Ehrle, “Neue Materialien zur Geschichte Peters von Luna (Benedicts XIII.),” Archiv für Literatur-und Kirchen Geschichte des Mittelalters 6 (1892): 259. Benedict XIII’s supporter, Martin de Alpartil, present at the court, and a direct witness of the event, also reproduces it, see Martin de Alpartil, Cronica actitatorum temporibus Benedicti XIII Pape, 10–11.

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166 l conflicting legitimacy upon the oath. The vows were sworn on the Gospels using the words, “we swear on the Holy Gospels held in our hand” (juramus ad sancta Dei evangelia corporaliter per nos tacta). With the physical act of touching the Gospels, the cardinals agreed to strive finding unity and ending the Schism. Of course, their vows indirectly reveal the cardinals’ own responsibility in hindering the process of healing. They swore to “help, advise, and support” the newly elected pontiff and they promised not to impede him directly or indirectly with ill advice, uttered publicly or secretly. They promised sincerely (sane et veraciter) to work toward Church unity, without machination, excuse, or delay, going so far as offering to resign from the papal office themselves in the event they were elected and did not comply. That they now professed to renew their efforts on behalf of the Church’s common good implies that in the recent past cardinals had been deficient on that score. By detailing the cardinals’ vows, our narrator clearly indicates whom he blamed for the continuation of the crisis. Eighteen cardinals swore allegiance and signed the agreement with the solemn formula, “of my own hand, and in writing I swear and promise” (juravi et promisi, et manu mea me hic subscripsi). Three, however, refused: the cardinals of Florence, Aigrefeuille, and Saint-Martial. This, again, was a physical pledge: while cardinals had previously sworn while touching the Gospels, now they used the legitimacy of the words written with their own hand to validate their act, “et manu mea me hic subscripsi.” The narrator concludes by stating that Pedro de Luna was indeed elected as Benedict XIII, but on June 1, 1395 ([sic], it was September 28, 1394), in Villeneuve, in the presence of the dukes of Berry, Burgundy, and Orléans. All cardinals – except the cardinal of Pamplona – called for a “Way of Cession,” which led to a subtraction of obedience.84 French sources allow us to question the sincerity of the cardinals’ cedula. Sources record a true royal effort at stalling the election while the cardinals were pushing back. The king’s letter, addressed to his “chers amis” the cardinals, begged them to enter into conclave only after the arrival of royal messengers. The king and his entourage hoped that such a delay would convince the cardinals to forego the election and bring back unity under one single pope.85 The cardinals in Avignon, however, neglected to wait and quickly elected Benedict XIII. Royal news supposedly arrived after the opening of the conclave, and the speed of the latter at electing a successor to Clement VII shows where cardinals stood in relation to the royal solution. Hélène Millet, the great French specialist of the Subtraction explains that as long as Clement VII ruled, the French royal house always offered him unquestionable support. 84

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Post premissa domini cardinales elegerunt in summum pontificem reverendum patrem dominum Petrum de Luna, cardinalem diachonum. Et demum, anno Domini MCCCXCV, die prima mensis junii, in Villanova, omnes domini cardinales predicti, uno excepto, scilicet Pampilonensi, in presentia dominorum ducum Bituricensis, Burgundie et Aurelianensis, reputarunt viam cessionis domini pape et sui adversarii meliorem, breviorem, faciliorem pro unione assequenda et magis sedativam conscientiarum. Ex predicta autem cedula et deliberatione dominorum cardinalium pretactorum orta fuerunt multa dubia, quorum aliqua secuntur in allegationibus subsequentibus, etc. Baluze, Vitae, 1: 542. See the letters and Parisian discussion in Edmond Martène and Ursin Durand, Veterum Scriptorum et Monumentorum Historicorum, Dogmaticorum, Moralium: Amplissima Collectio (Paris: François Montalant, 1783), 7: 479–486.

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The French Subtraction of Obedience k 167 Angevin and papal interests coincided. But a new politic was bound to appear at the death of Clement.86 The University of Paris took the lead in finding a viable solution. It called for a general consultation during the winter of 1394, which was supposedly widely popular. It presented three solutions: compromise with referees that would decide the path to follow; a general council, difficult to call because of a lack of unique leadership; and lastly, cession, the abdication of both popes followed by a gathering of cardinals of both obediences to elect a single pope.87 After a tepid response, the suggestions gained traction and the king called for a general assembly of the French clergy (bishops, abbots, chapters, and representatives of religious orders), to discuss the affair. Framed as a consultation, convocation letters were mailed at the end of 1394. All clergymen were supposed to meet for Candlemas 1395. Even if ill-defined then, the French “Gallican” church was slowly taking form, with a new head – the king. In 1395, 109 prelates eventually converged on the capital. This meeting became known as the first council/synod of Paris. It decided “cession.” The royal house, following its lead, opted to send prestigious representatives to the pope, the dukes of Berry and Burgundy, the king’s uncles, and his brother the duke of Orléans. But their reception in Avignon was not without surprises. Benedict forewent his electoral “agreement” and proposed concerted meetings between both popes to negotiate a way out. A stalemate was reached with no party clearly satisfied, setting up Avignon for a long period of internecine struggles manipulated by the royal lobbies. Orléans sided with Benedict while Burgundy and Berry opted for cession. The French monarchy, after fruitlessly attempting to convince the rest of Europe of the validity of its solution, called for a second meeting in Paris in 1396. The only point of discussion allowed was the means of securing cession. The duke of Orléans proposed a general vote of all members, collecting the bulletins in three large bags that he sent to his residence. They were never seen again.88 As Millet duly notes, Orléans had just saved Benedict. The pope’s enemies had proposed drastic solutions that would have severely weakened him – for example, the withdrawal of taxation. In any case, the suggestion evaporated with the bags. Benedict kept renewing his vow to end the Schism, but always considered himself the legitimate pope, while France considered cession the price the reneging pope had to pay.89 The French monarchy at the time was more of an ersatz monarchs group (counting the mad king’s uncles, brother, and wife) than a single individual. It used the cession to project an image of royal justice, fair and even-tempered, even when facing a recalcitrant pope. The king was a concerned Christian, worried about the Church’s union – not yet the head of the Gallican church, a consequence rather than cause of the Subtraction. 86

87

88 89

Hélène Millet and Emmanuel Poulle, Le vote de la soustraction d’obédience en 1398 (Paris: Édition du centre national de la recherche scientifique, 1988), 3–4. See also Hélène Millet, L’Église du Grand Schisme, 1378–1417 (Paris: Éditions Picard, 2009), 30–84. On these various councils, see Millet’s chapter, “Du conseil au concile (1395–1408): Recherche sur la nature des assemblées du clergé en France pendant le Grand Schisme d’Occident,” in her L’Église du Grand Schisme, 30–46. Millet, Le vote de la soustraction d’obédience en 1398, 5. On the reiteration of his vow, see Valois, La France, 3: 16: “Statim eo intronizato per cardinals, eadem die, iterans dictum juramentum, adhuc existens in cathedra, asseruit eisdem cardinalibus quod eadem viam uniendi Ecclesiam per cessionem persequeretur diligenter, in tantum quod domini cardinales magis haberent causam reprimendi quam accelerandi.”

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168 l conflicting legitimacy The chancery’s letters of convocation to the three councils (1395, 1396, 1398) that led to the Subtraction served royal propaganda well.90 Each letter addressed “de par le Roy” made attendance mandatory and required confirmation of receipt. The language of the convocations was legal, the king needed to “hear the case” surrounded by the prelates’ advice. They needed to “deliberate and advise” in order to end the crisis.91 The list of complaints against the pope was long but we can note that without being called “tyrant” as such, the pope’s behavior as presented certainly indicated his tyrannical leanings. For example, Cardinals Thury and de Lagrange enumerated a long list of accusations hinting at tyranny, including procrastination, corruption, scandals, and the fear the pope instilled in others.92 Meanwhile, Simon de Cramaud, the well-known canonist at the University of Paris, lectured on Benedict’s perjury, advising the faithful to abandon him.93 As Howard Kaminsky argues, Cramaud’s ideas were not novel: Jean Gerson argued in December 1392 that a pope who refused to resign for the common good was guilty of mortal sin; John of Moravia, a student in theology, preached – according to Simon – that both popes should be killed; the University of Paris’ letter of 6 June 1394 asserted that a pope refusing to accept one of its three ways of union was a schismatic and heretic who merited death.94

And interestingly, Cramaud may have found his argument in earlier texts, such as “Philip the Fair’s ‘Subtraction’ from Boniface VIII,” a work that was in vogue and recopied in the 1390s. Kaminsky posits, Perhaps he [Cramaud] had even read the work of Guillaume de Nogaret, who had developed canonistic arguments to show that Boniface was a heretic, that since his heresy was notorious he was de jure no longer pope, that he was therefore deprived of all papal power and was subject to deposition by a general council to be convened by the king of France – all of which is more or less identical to the argument of Simon’s treatise.95 See, for example, the work of Claude Gauvard, “De grace especial” crime, état et société en France à la fin du Moyen Age (Paris: Publications de la Sorbonne, 2010); and Millet, L’Église du Grand Schisme, 33–34. 91 Millet, L’Église du Grand Schisme, 35–36. 92 “Propter dilaciones fugiendas, pro quibus procurandis papa omnia bona camere expendit et laborat cotidie toto posse per ambaxiatas et modos alios, quibus potest; propter fugacionem metus et terrorum, qui in cardinalibus et aliis crescunt omni die; propter crudelitatem et comminacionem factas per papam quibuscunque personis recusantibus vel nolentibus sequi viam suam et discedere a via cessionis.” Franz Ehrle, “Neue Materialien zur Geschichte Peters von Luna (Benedicts XIII.),” Archiv für Literatur-und Kirchen Geschichte des Mittelalters 6 (1892): 257, 285–87. 93 See Howard Kaminsky, The Politics of France’s Subtraction of Obedience from Pope Benedict XIII, 27 July, 1398 (Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society, 1971); Simon De Cramaud and the Great Schism (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1983); and De Substraccione Obediencie (Cambridge, MA: Medieval Academy of America, 1984). 94 Kaminsky, De Substraccione Obediencie, 47. The original words from the scholar from Moravia are found on page 112, “Et hoc forsan volebat dicere de Moravia, qui predicabat tempore Clementis quod ambo mactarentur.” 95 Kaminsky, De Substraccione Obediencie, 47. John of Moravia’s words were not lost. Evidence of the willingness to kill Pope Benedict XIII appears, for example, in Luc Pierre, “Un complot contre le pape Benoit XIII (1406–1407),” Mélanges d’archéologie et d’histoire 55 (1938): 374–402, where magic 90

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Richard’s Deposition k 169 Not only were canonists such as Simon de Cramaud arguing for the deaths of schismatic and heretic popes, but so was an entire institution. It may be surprising to read the harshness with which the University of Paris proposed to solve the crisis, but by 1394, after close to twenty years of Schism and no end in sight, strong measures were recommended: a schismatic person should lose his property and eventually his life.96 One of the main methods of the subtraction of obedience was to remove the control the pope had over the vast financial resources provided by the collection of apostolic revenues. The pope needed to be first hampered in his financial maneuverability and then eventually in his person. It was well understood that Benedict was able to control his obedience via financial favors; a subtraction would put an end to this by preventing his “corrupting influence.” Starving him financially would certainly make him more amenable to renounce his office.97 The pope’s defense, of course, argued that these were secular arguments not befitting a pope. A pope could not be disobeyed, regardless of his faults and behavior. Once all members of the last Council of Paris approved the Subtraction by a large majority, it was proclaimed on Sunday, July 28, 1398, in front of a large crowd of some 10,000 men and in the presence of the dukes of Burgundy, Berry, and Bourbon, the chancellor of France, and representatives of the king. The proclamation detailed the history of the decision and made it clear that all European powers had been involved, including the English court.98

Richard’s Deposition (1399)

A

lmost a year to the day later, about mid-August 1399, Richard II was arrested in northern England after Henry of Lancaster (Henry IV) returned from exile.

formulae were supposed to bring the pope to his end. Noël Valois, La France, 4: 311, cites poisoning attempts against Innocent VII and Alexander V: Achiepiscopus Mediolanensis vidit quod dedit sibi potum, et conquestus fuit Alexander se moriturum morte qua decessit lnnocentius papa VII, denotando venenum, et alia indicia, et quod publica vox et fama fuit quod procuravit eciam Innocentium intoxicari. . .Episcopus Laudensis ad idem dicit audivisse a barbitonsore Alexandri quod, quia id dicebat quod Johannes papa intoxicasset Alexandrum, ideo fecit Johannes cum incarcerari, qui tamen barbitonsor juravit verum esse eumdem Alexandrum mortuum fuisse veneno. Audivit etiam a magistro Philippino, medico de Mediolano, qui eundem evisceravit, quod Alexander intoxicatus fuit veneno. Deponit de veneno reperto et experientia canis qui per probam mortuus est. 96 Chartularium Universitatis Parisiensis, 3: 625 (#1684). The text also makes both popes schismatic: “Ista sunt puncta Tractatus componendi nomine Universitatis Parisiens, 1394, post Junii 6, Parisiis., 2. Qualiter impedientes hujusmodi conclusionem directe vel indirecte, dum tamen scienter faciant, peccant graviter, et si desistere non curant, qualiter ut veri scismatici sunt tenendi, cujuscunque status aut conditionis existant”; “Qualiter contra rebelles et procurantes scismaticos in hac materia juste possunt via facti procedere et eis incumbit, primo in bonis, secundo si necesse sit in personis.” 97 Valois, La France, 3: 155. 98 “Et quomodo super hoc rex miserat solempniter ad imperatorem et omnes principes tam istius obedientie quam alterius, et quomodo ipse et rex Anglie et Castelle ac regina Cecilie, comes Sabaudie et plures alii fuerant concordes, quod fieret substractio totalis pape.” Franz Ehrle, “Neue Materialen zur Geschichte Peters von Luna (Benedicts XIII.) von Ehrle,” Archiv für Literatur-und Kirchen Geschichte des Mittelalters 6 (1892): 286.

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170 l conflicting legitimacy According to Nigel Saul, the possibility of keeping two kings alive was quickly eliminated – perhaps proof that the Schism indeed served as example for Richard’s deposition.99 Like Urban VI, who missed in 1378 the corporatist and oligarchic trends that partially removed him from office, Richard did not realize the depth of the historical movement that transformed ideas of governance during the late fourteenth century. While his contemporaries saw the limitations set on him with the 1386 “commission of governance” as the main culprit in his downfall, war, plague, population loss, and lack of adaptability by the aristocracy precipitated the crisis.100 Significantly, Richard’s autocratic tendencies were made apparent by “corporatism.” As Edward Powell suggests, kingdom and community both needed to be respected, and a king did not rule alone: “the king was part of the community of the realm himself, and answerable to it; he might therefore be removed if he broke his coronation oath and harmed the interests of the crown.”101 In essence, the same corporatism that was present in the College of Cardinals, which had been at the root of the Schism and had allowed its continuation, was now involved in the end of the rule of a king. A council of Frenchmen and theologians had decided on the perjury of Benedict and “deposed” him, accusing him of “performing tyranny,” while a council of Englishmen drafted the deposition of their king for more or less the same reason: the sake of the many surpassed that of the one. Authority could not be arbitrary, and oaths could not be broken. As framed by William H. Dunham and Charles T. Wood, in the process of removing unsatisfactory kings, men of politics and law gradually set limits beyond which a reigning monarch could not safely go . . .. The right to depose the king was predicated on definitions of the Bad King (one who had violated England’s law, custom, and morality) and/or the Useless King (the incompetent executive and inept politician who had not mastered the art of handling men).102

Similarly, by 1398, “unsatisfactory” popes could be removed, and it could be argued that discussions leading to that conclusion provided fodder to any political body that wanted to unseat its leader. John L. Leland, discussing the end of Richard II’s reign, underscores the impact of 1399 and describes the moment as “the end of absolutism.”103 Richard desired the full powers attached to his crown and to be “master of his realm.”104 Was this in any way different from an Urban VI or a Benedict XIII? The historiography remains silent on the topic. 99

Rebellion in favor of Richard could and did complicate Henry’s rule. An ill-organized revolt was quickly put down and Richard was dispatched to the Castle of Pontefract where he died in February 1400. His body was exposed for all to see, as many did not believe his death. Eventually, Henry V brought his body back to his chosen resting place at Westminster. See Nigel Saul, Richard II (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1997), 425–29. 100 See, in addition to the works already cited, Anthony Steel, Richard II (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1941); and John Lowell Leland, “1399: A Royal Revolution Reversed,” Essays in Medieval Studies 21 (2004): 63–73, who offers a good review of the current historiography. 101 Edward Powel, Kingship, Law, and Society: Criminal Justice in the Reign of Henry V (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989), 34. 102 William Huse Dunham and Charles T. Wood, “The Right to Rule in England: Depositions and the Kingdom’s Authority, 1327–1485,” The American Historical Review 81 (1976): 760. 103 Leland, “1399: A Royal Revolution Reversed,” 63. 104 Steel, Richard II, 217.

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Richard’s Deposition k 171 By 1399, two rulers in England had been deposed without trial; the first was Edward II in 1327. In both cases, they were asked to abdicate or resign, but the semblance of their jurisdictional supremacy was maintained. Richard actually renounced his crown before he was deposed. Kings were not tried. But in the case of the Church, the idea that a religious body could depose a pope and try him took shape by the end of the Schism. The Church was willing to take away the jurisdictional supremacy of the pope, a move that secular authorities had refused to take from their king. Accusations levied against Pope Urban VI, Richard, and Popes John XXIII and Benedict XIII, organized around proceedings, charges, and results (see Table 3), make clear that by the end of the Schism, both secular and religious authorities in Parliaments and religious councils formulated the superiority of the many over the one in similar fashion, even if the one had been appointed by divine grace. The many had legal prerogatives and responsibilities over a “tyrannical” leader. The legitimacy of the many was reflected in their approaches and actions: They followed due process and were not arbitrary. They thoroughly reviewed their case, they prosecuted, and they judged, regardless of the authority that faced them. As a result, the guilty party was deposed legally and legitimately, cast out of the realm or the community of the faithful, with all the consequences that the sentence entailed. At the autumn of the Middle Ages, the sacrosanct position of a king lost its grip. Richard was convinced of the sanctity of his kingship through unction. Citing Shakespeare’s Richard II, act 3, scene 2, lines 54–57: Not all the waters in the rough rude sea Can wash the balm from an anointed king; The breath of worldly men cannot depose The deputy anointed by the Lord

Francis Oakley states, Richard “seems firmly to have believed in the divinely conferred nature of his royal office, in the unquestioning obedience owed thereby to him, and in his freedom from those restraints on the exercise of royal power that Englishmen had over the centuries come to view as customary.”105 We could add that the Schism exposed the chasm that separated two contemporary, and antithetical, conceptions of the nature of political power, the divine and absolute, versus the constitutional. The opposition had been raised before, especially during the fourteenth-century papal/Holy Roman imperial confrontation with Louis of Bavaria, for example, but never had the entire Church split asunder as it did at the end of the century. Not much separated a Richard II from an Urban VI or Benedict XIII. Each was convinced with absolute certainty of the divine and legitimate nature of his power. Unfortunately for them, their “counsels” were not. Addressing the three estates of England in October 1408 to convince them of the need of a council, Cardinal Uguccione demonstrates how far ahead of their rulers “councilmen” had arrived. He states, “And if we were to concede that a pope was so free as one who could be judged only by himself, he would be a monarch and could become a tyrant.”106 This to a crowd who had deposed its 105 106

Oakley, The Watershed of Modern Politics, 132–33. C. M. D. Crowder, Unity, Heresy, and Reform, 1378–1460: The Conciliar Response to the Great Schism (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1977), 48.

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172 l conflicting legitimacy Table 3 Accusations levied against Pope Urban VI, King Richard II, and Popes John XXIII and Benedict XIII French Cardinal’s Declaration in Anagni.a August 9, 1378: Deposition of Urban VI

Parliamentary Assembly at Westminster.b September 30, 1399: Deposition of Richard

Constance: Session 12. May 29, 1415: Deposition of John XXIII.c

Constance: Session 37. July 26, 1417: Deposition of Benedict XIII.d

Proceedings: Legitimacy of the plaintiffs. Twelve cardinals present in Rome at the time of Gregory’s death and present at conclave. Cardinals now physically separated from pope. Protected by their mercenaries. Act for the good of the Church and in the name of orthodox faith.

Proceedings: Legitimacy of parliamentary assembly. Informed of and accepts Richard’s resignation.

Proceedings: Legitimacy of council.

Proceedings: Legitimacy of council and biblical quotes to legitimize sentence.

Proceedings: Mass of Holy Spirit officiated by Italian Patriarch of Constantinople. Sermon by the same.

Proceedings: Review of Coronation oath.

Proceedings: Previous thorough review of the case.

Proceedings: Thorough canonical inquiry.

Charges: Holding of papal title by uncanonical means.

Charges: Rejection of counsel.

Charges: John’s departure from council: Unlawful, scandalous, damaging.

Charges: Persecuted and disturbed all people and universal Church, fostered division, refused counsel, breach of oath.

Charges: Election = results of cardinals’ fears.

Charges: Intimidation of judges (metus).

Charges: Breach of his oath to Church and council.

Charges: Cause of scandal.

Charges: Large crowds in Rome pressured cardinals to elect a Roman or an Italian under threats of death.

Charges: Attacks on barons.

Charges: Simoniac, destroyer of goods and rights.

Charges: Promoter of schism.

Charges: Lack of adequate protection for cardinals and lack of conclave’s secrecy, security, and enclosure.

Charges: Unjust fines.

Charges: Evil administrator.

Charges: Obstructer of peace and unity.

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Murder at the Rue Vieille du Temple k 173 Table 3 (cont.) French Cardinal’s Declaration in Anagni.a August 9, 1378: Deposition of Urban VI

Parliamentary Assembly at Westminster.b September 30, 1399: Deposition of Richard

Constance: Session 12. May 29, 1415: Deposition of John XXIII.c

Constance: Session 37. July 26, 1417: Deposition of Benedict XIII.d

Charges: Tyranny (ipsum papatum tirannice occupare)

Charges: Obsession against his enemy (Henry).

Charges: Detestable and dishonest life and morals.

Charges: Heretic, incorrigible and unworthy.

Charges: Papal intercession.

Charges: Obstinate after warnings.

Charges: Defaults on loans, extortion, abuse and disrespect of civil and ecclesiastic law, dissimulation, fraud and perjury.

Charges: Incorrigible.

Results: Deposed.

Result: Deprived and deposed. Free Christians from allegiance to him. Safeguarded by Sigismund. Council reserves rights to additional punishments.

Results: Anathema and freed all from his obedience. Declare the papal seat vacant (dicta apostolica Sede vacante)

Result: Cut off from Catholic Church. Deprived, deposed, cast out. Absolve his obedience and forbid new obedience.

a

According to the anonymous author of the second life of Gregory XI, Baluze, Vitae, 1: 450–55. Summary of accusations drawn from Carlson, The Deposition of Richard II. c Norman Tanner, Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils (London: Sheed & Ward, 1990), 1: 417–418. d Tanner, Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils, 1: 437–38. b

king less than ten years before. The loop had been closed. Performing tyranny held consequences, regardless of the nature of one’s authority. That the idea took hold can also be seen in another example, the murder of Louis of Orléans.

Murder at the Rue Vieille du Temple he “Murder at the Rue Vieille du Temple” remains a marker in French history – the medieval equivalent of “the shot heard around the world” – and was ultimately an event that influenced French and British history in subsequent years.107 This event was at

T 107

Part of this chapter appeared as Joëlle Rollo-Koster, “The Great Western Schism, Legitimacy, and Tyrannicide: The Murder of Louis of Orléans (1407),” in On the Edge of Modernity: Studies in European Intellectual History in Honor of Thomas M. Izbicki, ed. Bettina Koch and Cary

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174 l conflicting legitimacy the center of a question of legitimacy, and we will see next how it came to be the topic of long discussions at the Council of Constance. It was in the Rue Vieille du Temple, now in the heart of the Marais quarter of Paris, that on November 23, 1407, Louis of Orléans, brother of “mad” King Charles VI of France, rode unknowingly into a deadly trap. Returning from visiting his sister-in law Isabeau of Bavaria, who had just lost a child postpartum, and making his way from the Hotel Barbette to the king’s royal residence, Louis was assaulted by a large group of men who literally hacked him to death. They fractured his skull, cut off his hand, killed one of his servants who had tried valiantly to protect him, and escaped, chasing onlookers away. A few days later, while the murder was being investigated, the duke of Burgundy, John the Fearless, came forward and openly confessed. He stated that in a moment of weakness he had ordered the assassins to strike, some three days after having achieved a truce with Louis, his cousin once removed. Enguerrand de Monstrelet, one of our main sources for the events surrounding the murder, names the seventeen or so culprits, starting with their leader, Rollet d’Auctonville (Raoul d’Oquetonville, or Raoulet d’Anquetonville). Rollet d’Auctonville considered himself wronged because Louis had revoked his position of tax collector, a possibly arbitrary decision of Louis’s that may have been a precursor to accusations of his tyranny (let us remember Onorato Caetani and Urban VI). Monstrelet’s tale continues with the funeral of the duke, adding touching descriptions such as “on each side of the body were, in due order, uttering groans and shedding tears, the king of Sicily, the dukes of Berry, Burgundy, and Bourbon, each holding a corner of the pall,” details that clearly add to Burgundy’s duplicity.108 As a “felon,” the duke performed emotions that he did not feel. Monstrelet then moves on to the consequences of the assault, the fear it instilled at the court, and the search for the true instigator of the attack that began with Aubert de Canny, a noble cuckolded by the duke. The descriptions of these activities serve no purpose but to show the dedication

J. Nederman (Kalamazoo: Arc Humanities Press & Medieval Institute Publications, 2018), 193–211. See Bernard Guenée, Un meurtre, une société: L’assassinat du Duc d’Orléans, 23 novembre 1407 (Paris: Gallimard, 1992). See also Enguerrand de Monstrelet, The Chronicles of Enguerrand De Monstrelet; Containing an Account of the Cruel Civil Wars between the Houses of Orléans and Burgundy; of the Possession of Paris and Normandy by the English, Their Expulsion Thence; and of Other Memorable Events That Happened in the Kingdom of France, As Well As in Other Countries . . . Beginning at the Year MCCCC., Where That of Sir John Froissart Finishes, and Ending at the Year . . . MDXVL, trans. Thomas Johnes (London: H. G. Bohn, 1853), 53–56. For a discussion of these sources, see, most recently, Jean-Michel Dequeker-Fergon, “L’histoire au service des pouvoirs: L’assassinat du duc d’Orléans,” Médiévales 10 (1986): 51–68. Michel Pintoin, the author of the Chronicle of SaintDenis, also discusses the murder. See Louis François Bellaguet, Chronique du Religieux de SaintDenys, contenant le règne de Charles VI., de 1380 à 1422, publiée en latin pour la première fois et traduite par M.L. Bellaguet, précédée d’une introduction par M. de Barante (Paris: Imprimerie de Chapelet, 1841), henceforth RSD, 3: 731–45. The monk’s narrative follows Monstrelet, showing at times more emotion by stating up front, “The horror of such a black treason would make me drop my quill if I did not impose on myself the duty of passing to posterity the actions, good and ill, of the princes of the royal family,” RSD, 3: 731. He rationalizes Burgundy’s decision as being due to the ill-feeling between both men, exacerbated by their shared governance of the realm. Interestingly enough, he also notes how easily manipulated they were by courtiers who flattered their ambitions and stoked their enmity. 108 Monstrelet, Chronicles, 55.

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Murder at the Rue Vieille du Temple k 175 investigators put into identifying the culprits. Monstrelet had already divulged to his readers Burgundy’s responsibility in the affair. Monstrelet builds his account around Burgundy’s deceitfulness. The “princes of blood” ordered the provost of Paris to take charge of the investigation. After securing the city and its gates, he was requested to brief the king’s council, to which Burgundy belonged. When questioned about the progress he had made, the provost responded that “he had used all diligence in his researches, but in vain; adding that if the king and the great lords present would permit him to search their hotels, and those of other great lords in Paris, he made no doubt but that he should discover the murderers and their accomplices.”109 While all acquiesced, “The duke of Burgundy, hearing such positive orders given, began to be alarmed, and, drawing king Louis [sic] and his uncle, the duke of Berry, aside, briefly confessed to them what he had done, saying, that by the temptation of the devil he had committed the murder by means of Auctonville and his accomplices.”110 Worried about his safety, Burgundy left the city for his castle of Bapaume in Artois the following day. Pandora’s box had been opened and the French civil war between Burgundy and Orléans/Armagnac was about to start. The details of this murder are well known. Monstrelet wrote what is considered one of the most accurate depictions of the affair, upon which Eric Jager’s popular modern rendering, Blood Royal, is based. Moreover, the report produced by the investigation (the dossier prepared by the staff of the provost of Paris, Guillaume de Tignonville) is easily accessible through Paul Raymond Lechien’s edition.111 Historians also know quite a bit about the perpetrator of the crime, Guillaume Courteheuse, the squire of Louis of Orléans, and Rollet d’Auctonville, the leader of the gang at the pay of the duke of Burgundy, John the Fearless.112 After fleeing Paris and once protected within his estate, John did not shy away from the consequences of his acts and embraced his crime heartily. In what could be called a stroke of Machiavellian genius before its time, he mounted his defense by putting the onus on Louis of Orléans. Jean Brandon, a contemporary Flemish monk residing at the Abbey of Dunes, retells how Louis had “opposed the reunification of the Church, saddling the people with onerous taxes, persecuting widows and orphans, violating highborn ladies, virgins, and nuns, causing the king’s illness, and plotting to kill the Duke of Burgundy.”113 But the 109 110 111

112

113

Monstrelet, Chronicles, 55. Monstrelet, Chronicles, 55. On Monstrelet’s historical worth, see Pierre Courroux, “Enguerrand de Monstrelet et les assassinats de Louis d’Orléans et Jean sans Peur,” Medium Aevum 84 (2015): 89–108; and George T. Diller, “The Assassination of Louis d’Orléans: The Overlooked Artistry of Enguerran de Monstrelet,” Fifteenth Century Studies 10 (1984): 57–68. The transcription of the investigation is found in Paul Raymond Lechien, “Enquête du prévôt de Paris sur l’assassinat de Louis, duc d’Orléans (1407),” Bibliothèque de l’École des Chartes 26 (1865): 215–49. See Léon Mirot, “Raoul d’Anquetonville et le prix de l’assassinat du duc d’Orléans,” Bibliothèque de l’École des Chartes 72 (1911): 445–58, who depicts d’Anquetonville as a truly vile individual who received protection from Burgundy for his entire life. I have used here the translation of Eric Jager, Blood Royal: A True Tale of Crime and Detection in Medieval Paris (New York: Little, Brown and Company, 2014), 179. The original states: Dicebatur enim quia sacrosanctae ecclesiae hostis et scismatis auctor, unionem in ecclesiam fieri impedierit, viduarum et pauperum injuriator, matronarum nobilium et virginum etiam

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176 l conflicting legitimacy monk seems dubious, aware of Burgundy’s propaganda, which was an attempt to convince both French and Flemish that Orléans deserved what happened to him. Brandon’s choice of words (Dicebatur enim, per praeconem palam recitata) leaves no doubt that these were alleged allegations somewhat unfounded. Brandon remarks that news traveled fast between France and Flanders, leaving people astonished, horrified, and surprised. In March 1408, after some vigorous negotiations with princes (the king’s council) and king, and a show of force, John the Fearless reentered Paris and organized the performance of an “audience” with the royals to show off his defense.

Burgundy’s Defense

T

he combination of perjury and murder brought consternation to the nation. But Burgundy had embraced his decision and defended it. He rationalized his gesture by accusing Louis of treason and lese-majesty, and argued that he had acted in the interest of king and nation. Like Benedict XIII and Richard II, Louis had performed tyranny. Burgundy organized a campaign aimed at justifying his action by hiring a famously eloquent theologian, Jean Petit, to plead his case in front of the court and disseminate his defense throughout France, Burgundy, Flanders, and anywhere willing to listen.114 Jean Petit, a doctor in theology who owed his career to the duke, formally defended the murder with a syllogistic justification: (1) it is permissible to kill a tyrant; (2) the Duke of Orléans was a tyrant; (3) thus it was permissible to kill Orléans.115 A feeble Charles VI seems to have acquiesced to his rationale. But this left Valentina Visconti, Orléans’ widow, and their sons, especially Charles of Orléans, thirsty for revenge. Valentina did not lack courage and she forced the king and his council to respond to the murder and give her justice.116 On September 11, 1408, Thomas du Bourg, Abbot of Cerisy, publicly attacked Burgundy’s defense on several grounds. Claiming the king’s justice, he et sanctimonialium violator et infinitis facinoribus obnoxius, etiam fratris sui regis infestator, ejus langoris causa fuerit; quod insuper in mortem ducis Burgundiae, qui et comitis Flandriae, conjuraverit, insuper et populum gravibus exactionibus et tallionibus per Franciam oppressent. Haec et multa alia fuerunt de eo in villis tam Franciae quam Flandriae, praecipue Gandavi et Insulis, coram populo, per praeconem palam recitata. Fuit nichilominus de tanti principis occisione magnus inter omnes stupor et admiration.

114

115

116

Kervyn de Lettenhove, Joseph Marie Bruno Constantin, Jean Brandon, Adrien de But, and Gilles de Roye, Chroniques relatives à l’histoire de la Belgique sous la domination des ducs de Bourgogne (Bruxelles: F. Hayez, 1870), 110. Alfred Coville, Jean Petit: La question du tyrannicide au commencement du XVe siècle (Paris: A. Picard, 1932), remains the absolute reading on Petit. He minutely details all the arguments. In his chronicle, Adam Usk also uses the language of usurpation, “Because of his unprecedented and grasping avarice . . . the duke of Orléans was murdered at the behest and with the connivance of the duke of Burgundy, for usurping the royal government.” Chris Given-Wilson, The Chronicle of Adam Usk: 1377–1421 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997), 217. We can note that syllogisms were used liberally at the time to argue drastic decisions. Simon de Cramaud, for example, had used canon law to argue that (1) to refuse “cession” is against the union of the Church; (2) thus to refuse it means schism; (3) schism thus means heresy; (4) hence both popes were heretics; (5) hence cession of obedience. Monstrelet, Chronicles, 88–115.

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Burgundy’s Defense k 177 rebuked Petit and denied the so-called tyranny of Orléans. Like many of his contemporaries, he argued that justice was the backbone of peace and needed to be rendered fairly. And thus, after much equivocation, on March 9, 1409, the Peace of Chartres sealed the renewed “friendship” that united Orléans’ heirs to Burgundy. Most knew that the peace would not last, especially when Burgundy again managed to gain control of the king. Valentina died in December 1408. In 1410, Charles of Orléans, son of Louis and Valentina, buttressed his forces by marrying Bonne of Armagnac. She was the granddaughter of the duke of Berry, and daughter of the formidable constable of France, Bernard of Armagnac, a friend of Louis and a great military leader. The Armagnac/Orléans party was born. As early as March 1411, Charles of Orléans asked the University of Paris to condemn Petit’s justification of Louis’s murder, with no result. Petit died in July 1411 but his words lived on. Paris suffered through the pro-Burgundian Cabochien revolt of 1413, when butchers, led by Simon Caboche and manipulated by John the Fearless, seized the city and imposed pseudo-democratic reforms with the help of academics and the Estates General.117 They called for “reforming the processes of government, eliminating corruption, and establishing a new and more enlightened civil service.”118 It is perhaps during this time of chaos and civil war that the renowned theologian Jean Gerson decided certainly for the sake of peace that Petit and his defense were wrong. Gerson became obsessed with rebuking the Justification: in his opinion, it disseminated ideas that were false, subversive, scandalous, and that caused ills to France, and as such were worth refuting.119 In September 1413, Gerson drew from Petit’s Justification seven clauses that he hoped to see condemned by the University of Paris. Between November 1413 and February 1414, Gerson faced opposition regarding the accuracy of his interpretation of Petit’s words at a “Council of Faith” set to discuss the issue. His seven assertions were deemed exaggerated and were revised to nine. Finally, on February 23, 1414, the university condemned the nine assertions.120 On February 25, copies of the Justification were burned in front of Notre-Dame.121 Nevertheless, the opening of the Council of Constance in November 1414 offered the duke of Burgundy the occasion to renew his offensive. He brought his argument to the council, and Gerson followed. The debate came to a close on January 11, 1416, when the council voted on the nine assertions; twenty-six members condemned them and fifty-one did not. The council’s rationale was simple: the assertions did not concern faith so were not judiciable by that body. On January 15, 1416, the three cardinals in charge of the affair annulled the Paris sentence of February 23, 1414. Orléans and Gerson had lost their battle in Constance. They were left with a limited victory in Paris. On September 16, 1416, the French Parliament prohibited advocating tyrannicide as permissible without judgment and forbade the copying and publication of the Justification.

117

See Alfred Coville, L’ordonnance cabochienne, 20–27 mai 1413 (Paris: Alphonse Picard, 1891). Brian McGuire, Jean Gerson and the Last Medieval Reformation (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2005), 201. 119 See, for example, McGuire, Jean Gerson and the Last Medieval Reformation, especially 229–34, 240–83; and A Companion to Jean Gerson, ed. Brian Patrick McGuire (Leiden: Brill, 2006), especially the chapters by D. Zach Flanagin, “Making Sense of It All: Gerson’s Biblical Theology”; and Francis Oakley, “Gerson as Conciliarist,” 133–204. 120 See the condemnation in Chartularium universitatis Parisiensis, 4: 280–83. 121 See RSD, 5: 271–79, for a summary of the affair and the auto-da-fé. 118

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178 l conflicting legitimacy The historiography of the Petit affair is meager. When the Justification is mentioned, it remains part of the Orléans/Armagnac-Burgundy rivalry, factionalized politics and propaganda, and is rarely analyzed on its own terms.122 It is above all woven into the fabric of French politics and considered for its political implications, over its moral, theological, and doctrinal overtones.123 When it is discussed in its conciliar context, the analysis is usually centered around Gerson’s ideology. In the following, the focus will shift on Petit’s Justification, moving away from France and foreign affairs, and from Gerson’s personal motivation, to address the role that the Schism could have played in framing its rhetoric. In other words, would Petit have used the same defense if the Schism had not occurred? What was the relationship between the Justification’s language and the language of usurpation used during the Schism? When asked, and after a thorough lengthy review, the Council of Constance refused to take a firm stand on Petit’s assertions and condemn the idea that killing a tyrant was permitted. The council provided a diluted, anticlimactic response, ignoring Jean Gerson’s robust attacks and quest for conclusion. These hesitations may have found their roots in the peculiarities of the situation. Issues of legitimacy, treason, and tyranny were too close for comfort when three popes clashed over legitimacy, treated their rivals as intruders and heretics, and would have initiated their own ecclesiastical civil war if they could. In many ways, the murder of Louis of Orléans had dramatic consequences on the political life of France, Burgundy, England, and the Church. The murder is considered the opening salvo of the French civil war that opposed Orléans/Armagnac to Burgundy for

122

123

I can only mention here the most obvious analyses. These monographs focus on the Armagnac/ Burgundy rivalry and are organized in chronological order. Eugène Jarry, La vie politique de Louis de France, Duc d’Orléans, 1372–1407 (Paris: Picard, 1889); Michael Nordberg, Les ducs et la royauté: Études sur la rivalité des ducs d’Orléans et de Bourgogne, 1392–1407 (Stockholm: Scandinavian University Books, Svenska bokförlaget/Norstedts, 1964); Richard Vaughan, John the Fearless: The Growth of Burgundian Power (New York: Barnes & Noble, 1966); Françoise Autrand, Charles VI: La folie du roi (Paris: Fayard, 1986); Jean de Berry: L’art et le pouvoir (Paris: Le grand livre du mois, 2000); R. C. Famiglietti, Royal Intrigue: Crisis at the Court of Charles VI, 1392–1420 (New York: AMS Press, 1987); Bertrand Schnerb, Les Armagnacs et les Bourguignons: La maudite guerre (Paris: Perrin, 1988); Jean sans Peur: Le prince meurtrier (Paris: Payot, 2005); Bernard Guenée, Un meurtre, une société: L’assassinat du Duc d’Orléans, 23 novembre 1407 (Paris: Gallimard, 1992); Tracy Adams, The Life and Afterlife of Isabeau of Bavaria (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2010); and Jager, Blood Royal. The rivalry is also the focus of several recent articles. See Jean-Michel Dequeker-Fergon, “L’histoire au service des pouvoirs: L’assassinat du duc d’Orléans,” Médiévales 10 (1986): 51–68; Emily J. Hutchison, “Partisan Identity in the French Civil War, 1405–1418: Reconsidering the Evidence on Livery Badges,” Journal of Medieval History 33 (2007): 250–74; “Winning Hearts and Minds in Early Fifteenth-Century France: Burgundian Propaganda in Perspective,” French Historical Studies 35 (2012): 3–30; “The Politics of Grief in the Outbreak of Civil War in France, 1407–1413,” Speculum 91 (2016): 422–52; Tracy Adams, “Valentina Visconti, Charles VI, and the Politics of Witchcraft,” Parergon 30 (2013): 11–32; Rolf Strøm-Olsen, “George Chastelain and the Language of Burgundian Historiography,” French Studies 68 (2014): 1–17; Guy Lurie, “Citizenship in Late Medieval Champagne: The Towns of Châlons, Reims, and Troyes, 1417–circa 1435,” French Historical Studies 38 (2015): 365–90. Also of note is Timur R. PollackLagushenko, “The Armagnac Faction: New Patterns of Political Violence in Late Medieval France,” PhD dissertation, The Johns Hopkins University, 2003. Even the leading author on the question, Alfred Coville, surrenders to its political implications. See Coville, Jean Petit, 500.

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Burgundy’s Defense k 179 more than a generation, led to English occupation, and ended the French Middle Ages in a catastrophe as painful as the Plague. The murder was the end result of a situation that had arisen from the political vacuum caused by the illness of Charles VI.124 While the king was “absent,” his wife Isabeau, his uncles (the dukes of Bourbon, Berry, and Burgundy, and after Burgundy’s death, his son, John), and his brother Louis shared governance and fought for control. When Louis was attacked, he was the de facto, if unpopular, ruler of France. The effects of international politics, rivalries amongst the lineage of Charles VI, lack of central governance, internal governmental considerations, and the division of the Western Church into a dual papacy all combined to create an untenable political situation. John of Burgundy thought he could solve the crisis by killing his rival. Bernard Guenée, French historian of the reign of Charles VI, leaves no doubt about Burgundy’s responsibility: “the truth is, if the subjects of Charles VI suffered for so long, it was not so much because of the death of the duke of Orléans, but rather for the honor of the duke of Burgundy.”125 Burgundy started a vicious circle of revenge that led first to his assassination on a bridge at Montereau on September 10, 1419, and continued with the alliance of Burgundy and the English crown during the English occupation of France following the victory at Agincourt in 1415. As we have already seen, Petit’s Justification had a convoluted history that followed the ebb and flow of family relations at the court – who amongst the king’s uncles, wife, cousins, and friends had ascendence over him during his “indispositions.” But it eventually landed at the Council of Constance, and there it has somewhat mystified historians. Alfred Coville, Petit’s foremost historian, remains perplexed and ponders why it occupied such a central place at the Council of Constance. Coville states, In Constance, the Jean Petit Affair held a disproportionate place when one thinks that the council aimed at re-establishing union in the Church, at restoring the papacy, at judging heresies much more serious than this case, like Jean Hus’s, Jérôme of Prague’s, and Wycliffe’s, and finally at reforming the Church. One can gauge the importance of the affair externally when perusing the number of manuscripts that hold deliberations of the council focused on that topic: 380 folios for the official transcript of the deliberations . . . 500 folios for the personal copy of the bishop of Arras, Martin Porée . . . and 668 columns in-folio of Gerson’s works . . . and by the important complements offered by H. Finke in his Acta concilii Constanciensis.126

Coville’s puzzled reaction points to a watershed moment in the history of the Schism. Why did Jean Petit’s Justification occupy such a place of importance at the council only to be dismissed as being outside the competence of the said body? Especially at a moment when, as Coville states, the discussion was “without any interest for the history of the church”?127 So why did the Council pursue it at all? This affair also preoccupied one of the leading 124

Famiglietti, Royal Intrigue, 1–21, spends a chapter analyzing the king’s disease and leaves no doubt that he suffered from schizophrenia. See also Bernard Guenée, “Discours de M. Bernard Guenée, président de la Société de l’histoire de France en 1995,” in Annuaire-Bulletin de la Société de l’histoire de France (Paris: Boccard, 1996), 3–10. 125 Guenée, Un meurtre, 188. 126 Coville, Jean Petit, 509. 127 Coville, Jean Petit, 511.

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180 l conflicting legitimacy thinkers of the council, Jean Gerson, who, according to Coville, spent more time on it than on the reform and union of the Church.128 I conclude that the council understood that its response would articulate future relations between rulers and governed, between the “head” and the rest of the body. In 1408, the most radical aspect of Petit’s Justification rested in its opening declaration, “‘Radix omnium malorum cupiditas, quam quidem appetentes erraverunt a fide,’ 1 Tim. vi., which may be thus translated, Covetousness is the root of all evil,” which established several benchmarks.129 Petit judged covetousness the worst sin because it led to lese-majesty (offence against the dignity of a ruler and treason), both human and divine (against the king and sovereign lord). Natural, moral, and divine laws condoned the murder of treasonous tyrants. Murder for the public good, by any means possible, including perjury, without due process of the law and/or authority was permissible. Orléans, by fomenting against his king, conformed to the role of a tyrant – he performed tyranny, and Burgundy, by killing him acted for the benefit of king and kingdom: My lord of Burgundy could not feel greater grief of heart, or more displeasure, than in doing anything respecting the late duke of Orléans that might anger the king. The deed that has been done was perpetrated for the safety of the king’s person, and that of his children, and for the general good of the realm, as shall be so fully hereafter explained that all those who shall hear me will be perfectly satisfied thereof.130

As Bernard Guenée makes clear in his discussion, Petit had spent his intellectual life within the Schism: in 1408, he was roughly forty-five years old, a doctor in theology since 1400, and, in 1406, a leader of the University of Paris against Pope Benedict XIII. His notion of divine lese-majesty had been fed by the crisis.131 Like other theorists of the time, Petit considered two royal majesties (the king’s two bodies): one divine and eternal and one human and temporal. This twofold formulation automatically led to two forms of lesemajesty, divine and human. Of course, in the present circumstance, Petit was focused on defending John and concerned primarily with royal majesty and lese-majesty, but one may wonder how his experience with divine lese-majesty and the Schism fed his formulation. By 1408, human lese-majesty had absorbed the classical Roman characteristics of offense to the Roman people, and offense to the emperor. During the thirteenth century, imperial attributes had grown to be recognized as monarchical attributes of the king of France; now, in the fourteenth century, the notion of state was added. Grounded in the Lex Julia de majestate, French law started to merge injury to the prince and injury to the state.132 For example, in 1393, an unsatisfied plaintiff who had wounded a counselor at Parliament was 128

Coville, Jean Petit, 513. Monstrelet, Chronicles, 63. 130 Monstrelet, Chronicles, 62. 131 Guenée, Un meurtre, 190. Petit’s biography is found in Coville, Jean Petit, 1–133; and Schnerb, Jean sans Peur, 247–50. 132 See S. H. Cuttler, The Law of Treason and Treason Trials in Later Medieval France (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003). Any form of rebellion, sedition, usurpation of public authority was included. The book also offers a thorough history of the concept of treason in medieval France. See especially pp. 22–23, where Cuttler uses Petit as a point of reference for late medieval views, including his assimilation of witchcraft and sorcery with treason when perpetrated against the king. 129

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Burgundy’s Defense k 181 condemned to death “because the lords of parliament, especially when in their function, are a part of the king’s body.”133 More importantly, as notions of king and state merged, so did notions of treason and lese-majesty. By the early fifteenth century, high treason and lesemajesty were also becoming one: “to betray one’s sovereign lord or the state was the highest treason imaginable.”134 After assimilating lese-majesty to treason, Petit upped the ante further when he made the traitor, guilty of the crime of lese-majesty, a tyrant. Petit and some of his contemporaries were now judging the behavior of their rulers and categorizing political worth, wondering at times what to do with an inept ruler, rather than accept mediocre political rule as a fait accompli. In France, a murder was justified for the good of king and country. As seen previously, in England, Richard’s deposition numbered “thirty-three articles detailing his malum regimen and tyrannous actions” that rationalized his deposition and eventual murder, also presumably for better government.135 Anna Merklin Lewis argues, “Now . . . the removal of unsatisfactory rulers was increasingly accompanied by the statement that such actions were justified by natural and divine law.”136 This was also the syllogistic argument of the Subtraction of Obedience: because the pope denied cession he refused union; denying union, he was schismatic; being schismatic made him heretic; being heretic made him disposable. As Joseph Strayer has demonstrated, this rationale could be explained by a growing reliance on “abstract” loyalties and the conceptual rise of the state as an abstraction.137 By the early fourteenth century, both monarchies and papacies had developed rituals and understandings of an abstract institutional continuity detached from the physical reality of a leader.138 It follows that the survival of an institution could warrant the elimination of a bad leader. This is what the English Parliament, Jean Petit, and many cardinals understood. And it is this understanding of political leadership as an abstraction that perhaps explains why the Council of Constance faltered in its discussion of Petit’s Justification. While deposition and tyrannicide were becoming acceptable in the name of monarchical survival, the Church had to ask itself if papacide could be tolerable for the survival of the institution. The early years of the Schism had recognized the via facti, the “way of force,” and its violence to solve the impasse, even if it was not a favorite means for academics.139 And there is no doubt that violence was employed to extract Benedict XIII from his Avignonese papal fortress during the 1398–1403 French Subtraction of Obedience.140 133

Guenée, Un meurtre, 191. Guenée, Un meurtre, 192. 135 Carlson, The Deposition of Richard II. The quote comes from Michael Bennett’s review of the book in The Journal of English and Germanic Philology 109 (2010): 134. 136 Merklin Lewis, “Tyrannicide,” 78. On Richard II’s governance and deposition, see above. 137 Joseph Reese Strayer, Charles Tilly, and William Chester Jordan, On the Medieval Origins of the Modern State (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2016). 138 On the double attributes (physical and institutional) of medieval kings and popes, see my Raiding Saint Peter: Empty Sees, Violence, and the Initiation of the Great Western Schism (1378) (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2008); and “Communicating Unity during the Great Western Schism (1378–1417): Pierre Ameil and Papal Funerals.” In ACTA (Acta ad archaeologiam et artium historiam pertinentia) 31 (2020): 113–29. See also Chapter 5. 139 See R. N. Swanson, Universities, Academics and the Great Schism (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002). 140 On this episode, see my “The Politics of Body Parts: Contested Topographies in Late Medieval Avignon,” Speculum: A Journal of Medieval Studies 78 (2003): 66–98. 134

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182 l conflicting legitimacy Once the via facti and via cessionis failed, the “way of council” was forced to revisit the discussion. The issue of the violent end of a tyrannical ruler reached the Council of Constance when the duke of Burgundy refused to accept any blame for his act. After the Justification’s Parisian auto-da-fé in February 1414, in March Burgundy first appealed the sentence to “The Roman court and the Church.” In September of that year, Pope John XXIII gave the case to a commission comprising Cardinals Orsini, Panciera, and Zabarella.141 After the opening of the Council of Constance in November 1414, the appeal followed the vicissitudes of French-Burgundian relations and Gerson’s interference and obsession with seeing Petit’s propositions condemned by the Council.142 Since Petit’s assertions are at the core of discussion, and since both versions, the seven assertions and the nine assertions, were discussed at Constance, it is necessary to cite them in full. The seven assertions that Gerson drew from Petit’s Burgundian defense were submitted to the Council of Faith on September 4–6, 1413. The council discussed them between November 1413 and February 1414 when it eventually discarded them, deeming them inaccurate and replacing them with the nine.143 Gerson’s seven: (1) Any tyrant can and ought to be killed beneficially and meritoriously by any of his vassals or subjects, by any means, including slyness, insidiousness, flatteries and praises, regardless of a previous oath or “confederation” taken with him, without waiting for any form of official mandate. (2) Saint Michael, without any mandate or order from God or anyone else, but solely moved by natural love, killed Lucifer of eternal death and for this he received as many spiritual rewards as he could take in. (3) Phineas killed Zambri without any mandate from God or Moses; and Zambri was not an idolater. (4) Moses without any official mandate killed the Egyptian. (5) Judith did not sin when she flattered Holofernes and neither did Jehu when he lied that he wanted to honor Baal. (6) Joab killed Abner after the death of Absalom.144 (7) Every time one does something that is better, even though it is what one swore not to do, it is not perjury, but contrary to perjury.145 The following revised nine assertions were submitted by the Council of Faith on February 7, 1414, with Burgundy looming over the debate:

141

On Zabarella’s conciliar activities, see Thomas E. Morrissey, Conciliarism and Church Law in the Fifteenth Century: Studies on Franciscus Zabarella and the Council of Constance (Burlington: Ashgate, 2014). 142 See Coville, Jean Petit, 503–61, for discussions of the Justification at Constance. 143 Chartularium Universitatis Parisiensis, 4: 263–64, 278. For a deeper discussion of the context, see McGuire, Jean Gerson and the Last Medieval Reformation, 229–34. 144 The original states, “Joab occit Abner depuis la mort d’Absalon;” Chartularium Universitatis Parisiensis, 4: 263. 145 I used here the translation of Brian Patrick McGuire, Jean Gerson and the Last Medieval Reformation, 231.

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Burgundy’s Defense k 183 (1) It is permissible to any subject without any form of mandate or command, according to natural, moral and divine laws, to kill or cause to be killed any tyrant who by covetousness, magic or fortunetelling foments against the corporal salvation of his king and sovereign lord to seize his noble and high lordship, and not only permissible but honorable and meritorious even when he [the tyrant] is of such high rank that justice cannot simply be rendered by the sovereign. (2) Natural, moral, and divine laws allow anyone to kill or cause to be killed the socalled tyrant. (3) It is permissible to any subject, honorable and meritorious, to kill or cause to be killed the above-mentioned tyrant and traitor, who is disloyal to his king and sovereign lord, by watching and spying, as it is permissible to dissimulate and hide the willingness to do so. (4) It is right and equitable that all tyrants be killed treacherously by watching and spying and it is the appropriate death for disloyal tyrants to be killed treacherously by ruse, ambushes and spying. (5) The one who kills or causes to be killed the above-mentioned tyrant must not in any way be punished, and not only must the king be satisfied, but he must be satisfied by the act, and authorize him in his occupation or any needs that could arise. (6) The king must protect and pay the one who has murdered in the said fashion, or ordered the above-mentioned tyrant murdered, in three things: that is with love, honor and wealth, following the example of the payments offered to the Archangel St. Michael for the expulsion of Lucifer from Paradise, etc . . . (7) The king must love more than ever the one who kills or causes to be killed the tyrant above-mentioned in the said manner, and must propagate his faith and loyalty in him throughout and outside his realm by letters, missives and other things. (8) “Littera occidit, spiritus vivificat, 2 Cor. 3:6,” [The written law inflicts death, whereas the spiritual law brings life] that is, to maintain the literal meaning of Holy Scripture kills one’s soul.146 (9) In case of alliance, oath, promises, or federation taken between knights, in any way that can exist, if it causes prejudice to one of the party concerned, his wife or children, he is in no way obliged to honor it. “Hoc probatur ex ordine caritatis, quo quilibet plus tenetur se ipso diligere uxorem et liberos” [This is proven in the maxim of charity that anyone is bound to love more his wife and children].147 The Council’s early efforts in dealing with heresies allowed Gerson the opportunity to see the “nine” addressed, and the so-called Quilibet Tyrannus condemned on July 6, 1415.148 Quilibet Tyrannus was the first assertion of the seven that had been submitted to the Again, the original is unclear: “Octava assercio: Littera occidit, spiritus autem vivificat, c’est a dire que tousjours tenir le sens litteral en la saincte escripture est occire son ame.” Chartularium Universitatis Parisiensis, 4: 278. 147 For a comparison with Monstrelet’s version and his added rebuttal, see Monstrelet, Chronicles, 276–77. 148 “Quilibet tyrannus potest et debet licite et meritorie occidi per quemcumque vassallum suum vel subditum, etiam per clanculas, insidias et subtiles blanditias vel adulationes, nonobstante quocumque praestilo juramento seu confoederatione factis cum eo, non expectata sententia vel mandata judicis cujuscumque.” Coville, Jean Petit, 522. 146

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184 l conflicting legitimacy Parisian Council of Faith on September 4–6, 1413. But what needs to be highlighted here is that, as Martin John Cable states, the Council of Constance “had only to consider whether or not the Paris assembly had been entitled to form an opinion unilaterally on the heretical character of Petit’s ideas and not whether that opinion was in and of itself justified.”149 The Council addressed issues of faith and heresy but never tackled the political issue of good and bad governance and the rights that anyone could have had to kill an unjust, bad ruler. Could it be that the truth was too close for comfort and forced a rethinking of the Church’s hierarchy, especially when this hierarchy had been destabilized for decades? As Petit stated, My third truth is, That it is lawful for any subject, without any particular orders from anyone, but from divine, moral, and natural law, to slay, or to cause to be slain, such disloyal traitors; I say it is not only lawful for anyone to act thus in such cases, but it is also meritorious and highly honourable, particularly when the person is of such high rank that justice cannot be executed by the sovereign himself. I shall prove this truth by twelve reasons, in honour of the twelve Apostles,”?150 If we accept that after Haec Sancta (Constance’s April 6, 1415 decree that asserted the authority of an ecumenical council over the pope), the council flexed its conciliar muscles, the lack of response to the Petit affair indicates that the Council left its options open. By not firmly condemning an apology of tyrannicide after a thorough and lengthy review, the Council intimated to any future papabile that he needed to behave because the “Petit option” (and it is terribly tempting to call it the “nuclear option”) was always available. One means for Constance’s members to advance their prerogatives was to emphasize inquisitorial procedures. Discussing processes at the Council, Sebastián Provvidente highlights, “in the case of the inquisitorial processes led by the Council of Constance a close association can be ascertained between inquisitorial practices and the consolidation of conciliar authority within the ecclesiastical ordo iudicarius.”151 Provvidente concludes that even after the election of a single pope the Council attempted to consolidate its power: “Indeed it is through judicial praxis that the council sought to affirm its own iurisdictio and demonstrate its potestas executiva as the ultimate instance within the Church ordo iudicarius.”152 Provvidente quotes arguments presented by Philip Stump on the reforms of the Council: “‘If the council could condemn abuses of papal power in a reigning pope, it could presumably also take action to prevent those abuses by limiting the exercise of papal power in the future.’”153 Provvidente further insists on the importance of discussions surrounding “the council’s potestas executiva and its at least contingent consolidation as the ultimate hierarchical instance of the Church in possession of the clavis potestatis.”154 Referring to the Council’s debate surrounding the condemnation of Wycliffe, Provvidente presents Pierre d’Ailly’s affirmation that “condemnation should be made in the name of the council since

149 150 151

152 153 154

Cable, “Cum essem in Constantie,” 269. Monstrelet, Chronicle, 71. Sebastian Provvidente, “Inquisitorial Process and Plenitudo Potestatis at the Council of Constance (1414–1418),” Filosoficky Casopis 59, no. 33 (2010): 110. Provvidente, “Inquisitorial,” 109–10. Provvidente, “Inquisitorial,” 103. Provvidente, “Inquisitorial,” 107.

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Burgundy’s Defense k 185 concilium est maius papa cum sit totum, et papa sit pars eiusdem [the council as a whole is greater than the pope and the pope is a part of the council].”155 To be clear, in the middle of this conciliar’s Zeitgeist on July 6, 1415, the Council condemned Petit’s Quilibet tyrannus (Gerson’s first of his original seven assertions), which states that “Any tyrant can and ought to be killed beneficially and meritoriously by any of his vassals or subjects, by any means, including slyness, insidiousness, flatteries and praises, regardless of a previous oath or ‘confederation’ taken with him, without waiting for any form of official mandate.”156 Note that there is no distinction between tyrant, lord, and king. The Council of Constance rejected Petit and Gerson’s version that explicitly left open the possibility that a tyrant could be a king – which would lead to regicide. However, the council did not condemn Licitum est, the first assertion of the revised Council of Faith’s nine, which stated, It is permissible to any subject without any form of mandate or command, according to natural, moral and divine laws, to kill or cause to be killed any tyrant who by covetousness, magic or fortunetelling foments against the corporal salvation of his king and sovereign lord to seize his noble and high lordship, and not only permissible but honorable and meritorious even when he [the tyrant] is of such high rank that justice cannot simply be rendered by the sovereign.

Here the Council of Constance kept the Council of Faith’s distinction that tyrants were solely those who attacked kings and sovereign lords. This clause did not consider that the king could be the tyrant. King, sovereign lord, and tyrant were distinguished. But it left open who or what could be designated a sovereign lord. The clause explicitly exonerated Burgundy who had acted in defense of his king Charles against the tyranny of his brother Louis. If we push the analysis of the council’s rationale further, and regardless of semantics, by not condemning this clause, the council allowed itself the freedom to argue that in some cases, a tyrant could be king, or sovereign lord. Haec Sancta had established that the council was de facto the superior authority of the many, against the one pope, who was part of it. The council could argue that Licitum est’s “sovereign lord” was itself, the council. Not condemning the clause freed the council to take actions against opponents. Did Petit’s Justification force the Church to face an issue that it did not want to face? That a pope by performing tyranny may need to be called a tyrant, and eliminated, if he was judged to be heretic and acting against his “sovereign lord,” the council? Did the council purposefully embrace the issue and allow itself the possibility of violence if necessary and leave all options open? When it did not condemn Licitum est, the council allowed itself a certain degree of freedom of action. For contemporaries, the past decades had shown how difficult it was for popes to accept their deposition by a council, unable to accept that the good of the Church

155 156

Provvidente, “Inquisitorial,” 109. “Quilibet tyrannus is simply a Latin translation of the first of the seven assertions that were submitted by Gerson to the Council of Faith in Paris. They were rejected and replaced with the nine assertions, when it was decided that they did not accurately reproduce the arguments contained in the Justification.” Lewis, “Tyrannicide,” 123.

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186 l conflicting legitimacy preceded their own. When a pope resisted stubbornly (and Benedict XIII was then a telling example), Licitum est allowed a radical solution, a last resort. Discussions of legitimacy, tyrannicide, the authority of a ruler vis à vis his subjects or of the one vis à vis the many can be productively located within a study of the Great Western Schism. The Schism originated with rebellion against someone who was considered authoritative and acting outside the boundaries of his power – someone who performed tyranny. The Schism cut to the heart of discussions over loyalties between subjects and rulers. The politico-religious crisis initiated a situation that quickly set precedent. The examples of Richard II and Louis of Orléans show how the language of intrusion, deposition, and murder, in both the clerical and secular worlds became recognized to a certain extent as a political expedient. The needs of the many were taking precedence over the rule of the one. Interestingly enough, the same world that led to a crisis of confidence in papacy and kingship and briefly favored conciliar or oligarchic rule over absolute monarchy and papacy, eventually collapsed in the chaos of the early modern period.

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5 Finding Unity in Liturgy Papal Funerals and the Political Theology of the Pope’s One Body

his exceptional position in medieval society, the death of a pope initiated a series of rites that transcended the scope of ordinary religious customs. During the period of an empty or vacant see (sede vacante), rites were performed simultaneously to emphasize both temporal legislation and sacred liturgy.1 Funerary activities at the papal court blended the sacred and the profane, with the performance of innumerable masses for the repose of the deceased pontiff’s soul and as his ecclesiastical goods were safeguarded from plunder. This chapter will examine whether the specific historical context of the Great Western Schism affected in any way the usual protocol of the sede vacante. It should be noted that the authors who produced the first ceremonials (ordines) specific to the sede vacante, François de Conzié and Pierre Ameil, both lived during the Schism. The following argues that their writings emerged from their immediate experience with the crisis; the link between text and context is not purely accidental. Since both ceremonials demonstrate an increased attention to the liturgy of the sede vacante, this chapter will elucidate the rationale of these ceremonies within the extraordinary political context of papal transitions and the Schism. After briefly discussing medieval Ordines and their audience, this chapter will illustrate the maintenance of a double corporal system during the sede vacante (physical and institutional) and focus on ceremonies following the demise of Clement VII, the first pope of the Schism. The rest of the chapter will analyze the two fourteenth-century liturgists who detailed the sede vacante, François de Conzié and Pierre Ameil, examining closely the latter’s objectification of the dead pope’s body as a means to perform unity, both physical and institutional.

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A shorter version of this chapter, with an emphasis on sensorial analytics appeared in 2020, see Joëlle Rollo-Koster, “Communicating Unity during the Great Western Schism (1378–1417): Pierre Ameil and Papal Funerals,” ACTA (Acta ad archaeologiam et artium historiam pertinentia) 31 (2020): 113–29. It is common in English to use the term sede vacante (no italics) as a noun, as in “the Sede Vacante,” even though the exact Latin would prohibit the usage. Sede vacante (the seat being vacant) is the ablative absolute of sedes vacans (vacant seat). The term appears countless times preceded by an article (“a,” “the” or “la”) in many languages, such as English, French, Spanish, and Italian.

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188 l finding unity in liturgy

Ordines and the Papal Death

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eremonials, or ordines, scripted the liturgical behavior, colors, and words for all members of the curia to follow. This applied to liturgical feasts, holy days, and special events such as a pope’s death, a canonization, or the coronation of an emperor. Ordines are usually organized according to liturgical calendars. They differ from breviaries, pontificals, or missals by simply offering the incipits, not the full texts, of prayers and incantations.2 The earliest compiler of Ordines Romani, Jean Mabillon (1632–1707), ended his compilation in the late Middle Ages and itemized fifteen ceremonials. A complement to Mabillon’s compilation has been added over time by authors such as Michel Andrieu, Marc Dykmans, or Bernhard Schimmelpfennig.3 At some time or other, most officers of the papal court played a role in these ceremonials and needed to be cognizant of their roles, from the pope, to the camerlengo (head of the Apostolic Chamber), cardinals, bishops and priests, confessors, deacons, chaplains, cantors, treasurers, sacristans, penitentiaries, down the hierarchical ladder to the physicians, barbers, messengers, and almoners of the pope. In the words of Pierre Ameil, one of the authors of the first ceremonials, these rites concerned those who had to replicate or reproduce the correct forms found in the “Political and Roman Pontificals.”4 In this specific case, Ameil was referring to the pope’s chamberlains, his confessor, and his prelatos domus, the company of priests attached to his service. The pages that follow will examine the ways in which François de Conzié and Pierre Ameil used the papal funerary liturgy to fill the void, the spiritual and institutional vacancy, created by the pope’s death. Both authors depicted who performed and represented authority during a vacant see. Reacting to events that had led to the Schism, and especially to the growing pretensions of the College of Cardinals, both authors constructed an innovative theory of institutional continuity through their ceremonials. Both authors aimed to displace the cardinals from the central role they had formerly held in protocols of the sede vacante. In the case of de Conzié’s scenario, the cardinals were replaced with the 2

For a recent survey, see Eric Palazzo, A History of Liturgical Books: From the Beginning to the Thirteenth Century (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1998). 3 See Jean Mabillon, Museum Italicum: Seu Collectio Veterum Scriptorum Ex Bibliothecis Italicis, 2 vols. (Lutetiae Parisiorum: Apud Montalant, 1724); Michel Andrieu, Les ordines romani du haut moyen âge, 5 vols. (Louvain: Spicilegium sacrum lovaniense, 1931–61); and Le pontifical romain au moyen âge, 4 vols. (Vatican City: Biblioteca apostolica Vaticana, 1938–41); Dykmans, Cérémonial-Stefaneschi, 2; Cérémonial-Conzié, 3; Cérémonial-Ameil, 4; Le pontifical romain révisé au XV e siècle (Vatican City: Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, 1985); and Bernhard Schimmelpfennig, Die Zeremonienbücher der römischen Kurie im Mittelalter (Tubingen: M. Niemeyer, 1973). 4 “Et dum approxima ad mortem, debent esse parati cubicularii semper ad servitium suum, et debent vocare confessorem suum et prelatos domus, qui sibi administrent sacramenta ecclesiastica que debent dari iuxta formam que est in Politico et in Pontificali Romano.” Dykmans, CérémonialAmeil, 4: 217. Ameil’s use of “politico” here refers to the Liber politicus (or Liber polyptichus), a twelfthcentury ordo romanus composed between 1140–1143 by Benedict, canon of Saint Peter, included in the Liber censuum, a multiple-volume record of properties that owed a “census” or tax/rent to the Church. For a short discussion of its usage in the fourteenth century, see Schimmelpfennig, Die Zeremonienbücher, 4, 6, 7, 9, 10, 11, 12, 15, 16, 21, 32, 45, 109–10, 117–18, 349, 371, 375, 380, 392. The ordo is introduced in Louis Duchesne and Paul Fabre, Liber censuum de l’église romaine (Paris: Fontemoing, 1910), 1: 105–13.

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Ordines and the Papal Death k 189 leadership of the camerlengo; in the scheme of Ameil, the cardinals were replaced by a focus on the unique papal body, which for Ameil was both natural and institutional in life and in death. Ameil objectified the pope’s body as a representation of institutional continuity. How was a papal death and the election of his successor perceived at the papal court during the Schism? The death of Clement VII provides an illuminating example. The Narratio de morte Clementis VII et electione Benedicti XIII, found in Étienne Baluze’s Vitae paparum, chronicles Clement VII’s death and Benedict XIII’s election. The well-informed anonymous author tells readers that on Wednesday, September 16, 1394, at around noon, the former count of Geneva, Pope Clement VII, died in the pontifical palace of Avignon. He states further that on the same day, at Vespers, the cardinals present at court gathered in the robing-room or vesting chamber (camera paramenti) of the palace. This setting allows the narrator to display his knowledge of the court as he names all the cardinals present in Avignon at the time, starting with the six cardinal-bishops. All were present with the exception of two; one was in Aragon, and the other in Lotharingia. He then addresses the thirteen cardinal-priests, without the recently elevated Cardinal of Spain who had yet to arrive. He concludes with the five cardinal-deacons, one of whom, Pedro de Luna, was then staying at his benefice in Bolena, but arrived later at the palace, in time for the funeral. This intimate knowledge of the cardinals’ whereabouts indicates that the anonymous narrator of this source was someone privy to the inner workings of the curia, helping to confirm in his readers’ minds the accuracy and authority of his description. Continuing his account, the narrator explains that the pope was buried two days later, on Friday, September 18, at the third hour. The body was carried from the Great Chapel of the palace to the Cathedral of Notre-Dame des Doms where all the cardinals participated in the Office of the Dead. Cardinal Giffon officiated the funeral mass and preached its sermon. Once the novena ended, all cardinals present entered the conclave, which began on Saturday, September 26, 1394, at Vespers. On the next Monday, September 28, immediately following the Vigil of Saint Michael, they elected “unanimously and harmoniously” Pedro de Luna, Cardinal-Deacon of S. Maria in Cosmedin, as the next pope. That day, after the midday meal, the cardinals left the conclave and brought the pope to the Cathedral of Notre-Dame des Doms where he took the name of Benedict XIII.5 We should note the author’s fastidious attention to the exact chronology, quite consistent with his concern for the impeccable performance of the rites. A somewhat formal, anonymous “Record (acta) of the Election of Benedict XIII” continues the narrative. This source returns to Clement’s death, offering more detail and

5

Die veneris xviij septembris sepultura facta fuit corporis hora ante tertiam, et receptum fuit corpus de cappella magna palatii, et portatum ad Sanctam Mariam ecclesie cathedralis Avinionensis, ubi congregati erant cardinales; celebravitque missam dominus de Giffono cardinalis, et fecit sermonem. Completa novena, omnes predicti domini cardinales, presentes numero [XXJ], intrarunt conclave die sabbati xxvj dicti mensis, in vespere; qui unanimiter et concorditer elegerunt in papam predictum dominum Petrum de Luna, Sancte Marie in Cosmedin dyaconum cardinalem dyaconum cardinalem, die lune immediate sequenti vigiliam dedicationis sancti Michaellis [28 septembris]. Qua die, hora prandii, exiverunt conclave, et duxerunt dictum dominum papam ad Nostram Dominam de Dompnis ecclesiam cathedralem. Fuit inpositum sibi nomen Benedictus papa XIIJ. Baluze, Vitae, 1: 537–39. The quote is at page 539.

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190 l finding unity in liturgy specifying that the hour of the pontiff’s death was between nine and ten o’clock in the morning, adding that the body was carried to the cathedral and buried next to Pope John XXII’s tomb. The acta notes that, at the time, there were twenty-four cardinals in the College and twenty-one were present in Avignon. The narrator again lists the names of all the cardinals present in conclave. He repeats the election procedure found in the Narratio de morte Clementis VII et electione Benedicti XIII and concludes with an account of the new pope’s enthronement. The narrator states that on Saturday, October 3, Guido, Bishop of Palestrina, ordained Benedict, a priest (since he was a deacon). A week later, on Sunday, October 11, Benedict celebrated mass in the Great Chapel of the palace, where he was also consecrated by the Bishop of Ostia. Subsequently, and according to the usual manner, before the mass ended, Cardinal-Deacon Hugh of Saint-Martial crowned the pope. Following established custom, the pope processed throughout the city of Avignon after his consecration.6 The narrator again shows his intimate knowledge of the court’s ritual, placing actors in these ceremonies within a precise chronological account. Our author details the special agreement (cedula) made by the cardinals, promising to end the Schism if they were elected. The majority signed the oath, “juravi et promisi, et manu mea me hic subscripsi.” Nevertheless, the elected pope, Pedro de Luna, rescinded his decision, and the French court withdrew its obedience.7 That our text relates such a variety of events after Clement VII’s passing brings us to the remarkable character of a papal death and its jarring coincidence of liturgical rites and political jockeying. Obviously, the death of a pope represented a determining moment in the history of the papal institution. It was a moment that elicited complicated sentiments: respect and sorrow mingled together with anticipation and excitement, and sometimes strong feelings to the point of violence. The customary pillaging of goods that usually accompanied the death of popes and the election of his successor, present long before the Schism, has a well-researched history.8 A papal death unleashed powerful forces that usually reinforced status quo. The result of the 1378 election was an aberration. As we have seen, it was the culminating point of a perfect storm of challenging conditions. But these conditions did not destroy the papacy; in fact, the institution grew from the difficulties of this special interregnum. Respect and belief in a unique, legitimate leader of the Church was never questioned. However, who this leader was, how he would lead the Church, how intransigent he would

6

Baluze, Vitae, 1: 539. Baluze, Vitae, 1: 541–42. 8 There is no record that pillage followed the election of Clement VII in Fondi. But then mentions of pillaging are sporadic and there is no systematic record for each occurrence. See Joëlle Rollo-Koster, Raiding Saint Peter: Empty Sees, Violence, and the Initiation of the Great Western Schism (1378) (Leiden: Brill, 2008); “Looting the Empty See: The Great Western Schism Revisited (1378),” Rivista di storia della Chiesa in Italia 59, no. 2 (2005): 429–74; “Empty See and Ritual Pillaging in the Middle Ages,” in Power, Gender, and Ritual in Europe and the Americas: Essays in Memory of Richard C. Trexler, ed. Peter Arnade and Michael Rocke (Toronto: CMRS, 2008): 237–52; “Civil Violence and the Initiation of the Schism,” in A Companion to the Great Western Schism (1378–1417), ed. Joëlle Rollo-Koster and Thomas Izbicki (Leiden: Brill, September 2009), 9–66; and “Episcopal and Papal Vacancies: A Long History of Violence,” in Ecclesia & Violentia: Violence against the Church and Violence within the Church in the Middle Ages, ed. Radosław Kotecki and Jacek Maciejewski (Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars, 2014), 54–71. 7

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Ordines and the Papal Death k 191 be, how he would affect the future of the Church, who would have access to him, whom he would favor and protect, and many more questions raised discussions, negotiations, and bets within and outside the court.9 During the Schism’s vacancies, the resolution or continuation of the crisis rested on either going through with an election or not, and if so, finding the right candidate. While suggested, the idea of preventing a conclave was never entertained seriously. External pressures made themselves felt at the court, and cardinals conferred among each other, and with their clients and followers, maneuvering as conditions changed, improvising in shifting winds. The Church had long known of the fluidity of interregna and did not remain passive. Over several centuries, it constructed order out of somewhat chaotic vacant sees. What pontifical funeral rites added was the possibility to advance unity of focus. The pope’s body became that focal point. The maintenance of political systems is at the heart of our discussion of papal funeral rites. How did medieval authorities preserve the continuity of their particular system, whether secular or religious, when the personal representative of that system died? In his pioneering work, The King’s Two Bodies, Ernst Kantorowicz proposed the notion of the dual representation of the king’s body as both natural and political. When a king died, only his natural body died, while the king’s majesty (dignitas) survived in the monarchical institution. During the Middle Ages, the presence of funeral effigies (representing this dignitas) in the religious rituals of death brought home the “political theology” of secular monarchies.10 Anticipating the later anthropological readings of the sede vacante and issues of power relations and institutional continuity, Reinhard Elze was the first to note the oddly ambivalent construction of medieval papal succession and the ambiguity of papal political continuity. Elze observed the contrasting attitudes in the Middle Ages toward the respective deaths of sovereign and pope: for medieval people, a king never dies, but a pope does. For Elze, something was bound to remain at the death of a pope to pass along to his successor; but that something could not be his institutional dignitas. Papal dignitas was attached to the living pope, and at his death his natural (and institutional body, his dignitas) disappeared. Christ, the Roman Church, and the Apostolic See were all that remained at the pope’s death. This lack of continuity presented canonists with issues both theoretical and practical, political and liturgical. During the 1200s, jurists proposed that cardinals should head the

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On betting on the outcome of papal elections in later centuries, see John M. Hunt, “The Conclave from the ‘Outside In’: Rumor, Speculation, and Disorder During Early Modern Papal Elections,” Journal of Early Modern History 16 (2012): 355–82; and “Betting on the Papal Election in SixteenthCentury Rome,” Occasional Paper Series, 32 (Las Vegas: Center for Gaming Research, University Libraries, 2015). There is no direct evidence for this type of electoral betting in the late medieval period, even though the papal letters mention gambling and wagering in many instances. Ernst Hartwig Kantorowicz, The King’s Two Bodies: A Study in Mediaeval Political Theology (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1957). Kantorowicz worked closely with his student Ralph Giesey, who will be discussed later in the chapter. In her recent discussion, Elizabeth A. R. Brown dissects the respective theories of these two men and their mutual influence on each other. See Elizabeth A. R. Brown, “The French Royal Funeral Ceremony and the King’s Two Bodies: Ernst H. Kantorowicz, Ralph E. Giesey and the Construction of a Paradigm,” Micrologus 22 (2014): 105–37.

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192 l finding unity in liturgy Church during the sede vacante, to fill the political vacuum. While this proposal granted cardinals extensive executive powers for an open-ended term, it seemed unlikely to achieve the goal of a speedy election. A different solution eventually appeared with the creation of the conclave. By hastening the interregnal process with a closed and contained election, it facilitated political continuity and an orderly transfer of power. The sede vacante liturgy developed simultaneously and also culminated with the creation of the conclave in 1274. It offered the dead pope a send-off worthy of his former position. As Elze argued, law and liturgy worked hand in hand to affirm continuity.11 Developing further the basic paradigm of Elze and Kantorowicz, Agostino Paravacini Bagliani argued that, in ways that were analogous to the deaths of secular powers, the pope also developed two bodies. Paravicini Bagliani is cognizant of the ways in which his ecclesiastical authors (Stefaneschi, de Conzié, Ameil, Piccolomini) framed the issue of institutional continuity at the death of a pope. He concluded that, for these authors, the natural body of a pope died but the institutional body of the papacy survived in the College of Cardinals.12 He states in The Pope’s Body, “By 1378 . . . the cardinals were now the undisputed guarantors of the transfer of the potestas papae. Indeed, the cardinals were the Church during the limited period of the papal vacancy.”13 Subsequent historians have been persuaded by his argument. Discussing the problems of the sede vacante in the “Difficult Continuity of Power: The Death of The Pope,” Maria Antonietta Visceglia adds: Because of the particular nature of papal sovereignty, the relationship between the coronation of the new pontiff and the funeral rites of the preceding one, a crucial rite of passage for any prince, carries particular dramatic force. A. Paravicini Bagliani, in The Pope’s Body, describes the links already established in the Middle Ages between the first regulations of the procedures for the election of the pope . . . the institutional evolution of the cardinalship and the emergence of an institutional awareness of the continuity of the church, in spite of the death of the pope . . .. Its [Paravicini Bagliani’s research] importance lies in a theoretical intuition which connects the analysis of papal rituality to the complex history of the construction of western sovereignty. The earliest complete ceremonials of papal funerals – the first is that of Pierre Ameil (1360 [sic]-1400) – show the concept of the vacant papal see and the ‘novendial’, that is the period of waiting and mourning for nine days before the conclave’s opening. By reinforcing the power of the College of cardinals and elaborating the concepts of the pontiff’s royalty in Christ and of plenitudo potestatis (and thus distinguishing pontifical sovereignty from that of other sovereigns), pontifical ceremonial endowed the papal funeral with a universal nature, allowing the medieval papacy to carry the distinction between the person and the office to its culminating point.14 11

12 13 14

Reinhard Elze, “Sic transit gloria mundi: La morte del papa nel medioevo,” Annali dell’ istituto storico italo-germanico in Trento 3 (1977): 23–41. Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, The Pope’s Body (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000). Paravicini Bagliani, The Pope’s Body, 155. Maria Antonietta Visceglia, “A Comparative Historiographic Reflection on Sovereignty in Early Modern Europe: Interregnum Rites and Papal Funerals,” in Religion and Cultural Exchange in Europe: 1400–1700, ed. Heinz Schilling and István György Tóth, Cultural Exchange in Early Modern Europe 1 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 162–63. See also Mladen Kozul, “Corps du pape dans les pamphlets,” in Les Philosophes et leurs papes: Actes du colloque Les

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Ordines and the Papal Death k 193 When he revisited his thesis at the twentieth anniversary of the first publication of The Pope’s Body in 2014, Paravicini Bagliani built on his earlier findings. He underscored the essential role played by earlier popes such as Innocent III and Boniface VIII in the development of a simultaneously sacred and physiological approach to the pope’s body. But he also found evidence of an earlier iteration of the suprapersonne, or two bodies of the pope, in the writings of Pope Honorius III (1216–1227).15 Here he reiterated the paradox at the heart of the issue: the medieval Church’s effort to prolong the life of the pontiff and extol the perfection of his body, while emphasizing the frailty of the physical. Still, the uniqueness of Paravicini Bagliani’s historical “intuition” is to have identified how “the body of the pope offers a field of study that allows the analysis of the mechanisms of powers . . .. In the end [the body offers] a perspective on the anatomy of the body of power (anatomie du corps du pouvoir), along great cultural and ideological itineraries such as the perfect body or the body of the sovereign as ‘support’ of order.”16 Paravicini Bagliani recognized that Kantorowicz’s insight regarding the king’s body indicated a way forward to consider the papacy as also grounded in the pope’s corporeity, an element foundational of ecclesiastical order and hierarchy.17 The critical analyses by Agostino Paravicini Bagliani and his followers brought the relationship of powers he had identified into the field of ritual studies. According to Paravicini Bagliani and others, medieval authors framed ecclesial continuity around the College of Cardinals. The “natural body” of the Church was present in the physical body of the deceased pope, but the Church’s institutional body survived in the College. According to them, in the medieval funeral rites themselves, this crucial shift from the personal to the collegial was made manifestly clear. After a quick exposition of the pope’s body (the length of which gradually diminished from the late fourteenth to the fifteenth century), the remains were buried early in the novena (the nine days of liturgical celebrations that preceded the entry into conclave), leaving visible only the pope’s symbolic presence, an empty catafalque. It is this catafalque, or castrum doloris, that maintained the simulacrum of the pope’s institutional presence while cardinals ruled the Church sede vacante. The gradual diminution of the exposition of the pope’s body became symbolic of the shift in power to the College of Cardinals. Paravicini Bagliani sees this lack of interest in the pope’s actual body as a “growing impatience with the public display of the pope’s corpse, because of commotions exacerbated by popular devotion.”18 He adds: “Becoming more autonomous of the ‘royal’ burial of the

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papes imaginaires des Lumières françaises 1713–1789. Academia Belgica Rome, 13–15 mars 2008, ed. Jan Herman, Kris Peeters, and Paul Pelckmans (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 275, where he states, “In the system described and analyzed by Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, the body of the pope writes an equation between corpus ecclesiae, corpus papae, and corpus Christi. At his death the pope loses the adavantages of this accumulation of figures that constitutes his dignity.” Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, “Le corps du pape, vingt ans après,” Micrologus 22 (2014): 17. Paravicini Bagliani, “Le corps du pape, vingt ans après,” 31. We can find a similar approach in Romedio Schmitz-Esser, Der Leichnam im Mittelalter: Einbalsamierung, Verbrennung und die kulturelle Konstruktion des toten Körpers (Ostfildern: Jan Thorbecke Verlag, 2014), where the author describes the presence of corpses as legitimating tools. Paravicini Bagliani, “Le corps du pape, vingt ans après,” 31. Paravicini Bagliani, The Pope’s Body, 156.

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194 l finding unity in liturgy deceased pope, the novena became a ritual time reserved for the cardinals.”19 The two natures of the pope (physical and institutional), united in life, were thus separated at his death. The full humanity of the pope appeared in rites of “bodily” humiliation and dereliction (semi-nudity, pillage of his goods), while the institution survived in the College and also in the empty castrum doloris. This meant that the key moments of the novena occurred after the pope’s burial when cardinals took the helm of the Church. More recently, Paravicini Bagliani has detected what he sees as a theoretical shift distinguishing the developments of the Central Middle Ages from those of the later period, although this development remains unexplained. He states, “The rhetoric of nudity to which one must add the quasi-ritual of abandonment and spoliation . . . which affirm themselves with force during the thirteenth century, and then again in the fifteenth century, contrast with embalming which always constitutes a challenge to corruption and seems to be mentioned frequently especially when discussing the popes as early as the fourteenth century.”20 Paravicini Bagliani senses that something happened between the thirteenth and fifteenth centuries, when papal “humiliations” (that reinforced papal humanity in his death) competed with anti-bodily corruption (embalming). I argue that this matches exactly the fourteenth-century period of the Schism. Someone like Pierre Ameil emphasized embalming – and not physical humiliation – because it afforded him the occasion to exalt the pope’s body as both human and institutional. This was his response to the crisis. The dead pope performed both humanity and institution.

Fourteenth-Century Liturgists

B

oth François de Conzié and Pierre Ameil actively shaped the ceremonies surrounding the pope’s death and rituals of transfer of power during the Great Western Schism (1378–1417). François de Conzié wrote his ordo in the 1390s and Ameil in a roughly contemporaneous period (c. 1370–c. 1400).21 In contrast to the prevalent historiography, the following will suggest that both authors’ unique perspectives were shaped by the Schism and the political threats of the College of Cardinals. Both authors saw cardinals as responsible for the crisis and attempted to curtail their executive pretensions. Both authors constructed the papal funeral rites in ways that reinforced the role of parties other than the cardinals. Both authors, through the authoritative voice of their respective ordo, attempted to weaken the cardinals’ grip on power. De Conzié yielded the cardinals’ administrative control of the sede vacante to the camerlengo. Ameil constructed institutional continuity on the single papal body, at once natural and institutional, dead and alive. He objectified the pope’s body to represent institutional continuity. Both authors’ willingness to address the body, to discuss its preservation with embalming and the willingness to hide it once embalmed demonstrates that both de Conzié and Ameil 19 20 21

Paravicini Bagliani, The Pope’s Body, 158. Paravicini Bagliani, “Le corps du pape, vingt ans après,” 25. Dykmans, Cérémonial-Conzié, 3: 73, suggests somewhere during the 1390s for de Conzié’s composition, during preparations for the conclave that elected Benedict XIII. According to Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 25–36, 66, Ameil’s work cannot be dated precisely but belongs to the last thirty or so years of his life (c. 1370–c. 1401).

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Fourteenth-Century Liturgists k 195 understood the symbolic power of the papal corpse. The “growing impatience with the public display” and “the lack of interest” in the papal corpse identified by Paravicini Bagliani can certainly be analyzed as a form of empowerment on the part of the cardinals when they physically replaced the dead man. However, I would suggest that the exposition of the corpse threatened the cardinals’ newly gained, but still limited, authority during the vacant see. Liturgists understood that the corpse reminded audiences that the pope’s body indeed served human and institutional functions. They emphasized the cardinals’ primacy by shortening the exposition of the papal corpse, hastening the removal of that powerful symbol. Burying the deceased early on in the novena temporarily returned the considerable symbolic power associated with the pontiff’s remains back to the cardinals. Once the pope’s institutional symbol, his body, was put away, they could seize the helm of the Church sede vacante. Their attempt to minimize the viewing of the pope’s corpse was prompted not by mere disinterest or irritation at the behavior of the common folk who were interested in “seeing” the dead man. Rather, it suggests that they understood the “performing” power of the corpse. Still, in unusual circumstances, liturgy could challenge the status quo. A fresh reading of Ameil’s ceremonial permits a discussion of the “iconization” or “objectification” of “his” papal corpse. For Ameil, once embalmed the pope was transfigured from his living vital self into a facsimile-object resembling closely the wax effigies that were used elsewhere in medieval royal funerals. But as monarchies began to perform the ritual of processing the king’s body in effigy during funerals – to smooth the political transfer of power and maintain the appearance of seamless leadership – Ameil did not take up this important ceremony. The physical body of the embalmed papal corpse remained for him the “living” representation of the Church, a natural metamorphosis of the dead man into the institutional body of the Church. During papal funerals, the corpse of the pope was regarded as sufficiently representative. It did not require additional simulacra (such as wax effigies, statuary, or objects beyond itself ) to signify its abiding institutional presence. Thus, the paradox of the pope’s unique body was that it was living and transient, dead and permanent. As discussed previously, the conclave was the Church’s response to a perceived threat emanating from the cardinals. The conclave thwarted the cardinals’ strategy to exploit the opportunity of the interregnum to erode the pope’s plenitudo potestatis. But the Church also deployed the symbolic power of ritual to tighten its grasp on the proceedings of the interregnum.22 After witnessing the cardinals’ involvement in the initiation of the Schism, late medieval liturgists expanded the administration of the vacant see, prioritizing the role of the camerlengo, while they ritually minimized the role of cardinals of the Church sede vacante. Liturgy scripted and orchestrated words and movements in an attempt to control and restrain behaviors. Between 1300 and his death in 1343, Cardinal Jacopo Stefaneschi composed the first ceremonial (ordo) that dealt with the interregnum; it was also the most detailed and thorough of that era. Certainly, other ordines had been written before then, but they focused largely on the liturgy of the major Roman churches.23 For example, one can get an idea of 22 23

See “The Liturgy of the Empty See,” in Rollo-Koster, Raiding Saint Peter, 44–59. See Michel Andrieu, Les ordines romani du haut moyen age, 5 vols. (Leuven: Spicilegium Sacrum Lovaniense administration, 1960–65). The texts edited by Schimmelpfennig are also not focused on the interregnum. The closest discussion is found in Sammlung A (Codex Avignon 1706) for the

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196 l finding unity in liturgy the ceremonies surrounding papal death in Nicholas de Carbio’s description of Innocent IV’s funerals in 1254.24 Clergymen and laymen assembled and prayed around the body before it was transported and buried. The interregnum was basically not considered. Stefaneschi’s ceremonial was innovative in its scope, opening new discussions of all liturgical phases: the protocols of the papal election, coronation, and consecration; the pope and cardinals’ calendrical liturgy from Christmas to Pentecost; papal masses, sermons, anniversary celebrations, consistories, councils, imperial and royal coronations, canonizations, elevation of cardinals, ecclesiastical transfers, and the charges of nuncios and legates.25 As his rubrics make obvious, Stefaneschi was more interested in the living than in the dead. Cardinal Stefaneschi aimed to glorify the ruling pope. For him, issues of institutional continuity were solved with the election of a new pontiff. Naturally, his focus centered on the ceremonies surrounding the living pope. For example, his discussion of the pontifical coronation marking the end of the sede vacante extends much further than his discussion of papal funerals.26 When he discusses papal funerals, Stefaneschi assimilates them to existing rituals for the burial of cardinals. He addresses funerals in a catch-all chapter whose title suggests he drew no sharp distinctions among the hierarchy: “Ordo romane ecclesie ad sepeliendum papam, episcopos, presbiteros et diacones cardinales defunctos.”27 Stefaneschi reflected contemporary views about the leveling effect of death. At the time of Stefaneschi’s writing, Ubi periculum was only a few decades old and cardinals had not yet organized a response to the creation of the conclave. Stefaneschi discusses both the rubrics and ritual of the various masses for the dead, as well as absolutions, the prayers, and the liturgy sung during the transport of the catafalque and final commendations. He pays scant attention, though, to care of the pope’s body.28 While the ordo of Cardinal Stefaneschi is an important early witness to protocol and liturgy during the interregnum, we must wait until the late fourteenth century for a source focused particularly on the deceased pope and details of his funeral. This new concern for the remains of the dead pope only emerged after the initiation of the Schism and, as I have suggested in Raiding Saint Peter, may have been a response to it. François de Conzié, papal camerlengo for the Clementist obedience from 1383 until his death in 1431, and Pierre Ameil, patriarch of Grado, during the same period for the Urbanist obedience, both focused on the sede vacante.29 I have already discussed both of these ordines, noting

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early fourteenth century. This text mentions the deaths of Benedict XI and Clement V, and offers some data on the unraveling of the election with a description of the “compromisso” and Gregory X’s Ubi maius. See Schimmelpfennig, Die Zeremonienbücher der römischen Kurie, 188–94. “Circa horam vespertinam ad celestem patriam migravit. Tandem fratres minores, praedicatores et alii religiosi quam plurimi necnon clerici saeculares circa ipsius patris feretrum pernoctantes, ac divinis etiam laudibus et orationibus assistentes mane sequenti domini cardinales et praelati pariter universi cum magno cleri et populi comitatu cum reverentia et honore . . . detulerunt ad maiorem ecclesiam tumulandum, apud quam elegent sepulturam.” Emil Göller, Die päpstliche Ponitentiarie von ihrem Ursprung bis zu ihrer Umgestaltung unter Pius V (Rome: Loescher, 1907), 144. See Dykmans, Cérémonial-Stefaneschi, 2. See Rollo-Koster, Raiding Saint Peter, 45–47. Dykmans, Cérémonial-Stefaneschi, 2: 503. Dykmans, Cérémonial-Stefaneschi, 2: 503–7. Dykmans, Cérémonial-Conzié, 3: 68, calls de Conzié pompous and scholastic but meticulously accurate and fussy.

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François de Conzié k 197 especially de Conzié’s meticulous attention to a myriad of details.30 But here I would like to revisit two issues: first, de Conzié’s focus on the role of the camerlengo during the interregnum – camerlengo that he was, and secondly, Ameil’s focus on the unity of the pope’s body. In essence, both responded to the cardinals’ position during the Schism. François de Conzié immobilized and constrained cardinals in set behaviors, while Ameil invested the corpse of the pope with new symbolic meaning. In either case, the performance of continuity during the sede vacante rested outside the College. Both authors were men of the Church who succeeded to the highest echelons in their respective ways: de Conzié rose in the administration of the church’s temporal power, while Ameil personally cared for the pope – he was the pope’s confessor. Both held the pope’s confidence, and this intimacy opened the focus of their ordines to details earlier writers omitted. It is not the aim of this chapter to offer a long discussion of medieval sensory, and especially visual, perception. Still, venturing into a discussion of how medieval people “saw” may help us to understand what both liturgists intended to communicate. Social scientific research focused on “cognitive levels” may enrich our understanding of the liturgists’ intentions.31 In a sense, what Ameil and de Conzié “saw” and what they expected audiences to “see” found its way into their descriptions of liturgical procedures. We must ask, what was their visual frame of reference when they wrote their ordines? In general terms, as Dallas Denery states, by the later Middle Ages “people had come to think about themselves primarily in visual terms, in terms of a somewhat amorphous distinction between what appears and what exists.”32 This vague distinction between appearance and existence led people to conceive of themselves in terms of how an audience saw them – we could add, in term of performance. For Herbert L. Kessler, in the Middle Ages seeing led to perceiving. For this author, the physical act of seeing various forms of medieval artistic media led the onlooker toward the spiritual experience of sensing and perceiving what was represented.33 Thus, rather than conceptualizing “seeing” as a physical reality, the sense became “perception.” As such, the sense became attached to the entire cultural apparatus linked to what one perceives, depending on who one is, and when and where one is situated. In the case of de Conzié and Ameil, it could be argued that what they saw was defined by who they were. They made liturgy theirs: it was both prescriptive and traditional, and also filtered through their own visual prism.

François de Conzié

F 30 31

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rançois de Conzié was originally from the Bugey, the hills separating Lyon from Geneva. Across a long and impressive career, he distinguished himself in high

See Rollo-Koster, Raiding Saint Peter, 47–60. I am referring here specifically to the research of Mark Turner on basic mental operation and multimodal communication and his Cognitive Science Network. See http://markturner.org/index.html. Dallas G. Denery II, Seeing and Being Seen in the Later Medieval World: Optics, Theology and Religious Life (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 7. Herbert L. Kessler, Seeing Medieval Art (Peterborough; Orchard Park: Broadview Press, 2004). The idea is pushed somewhat further by Alexa Sand, Vision, Devotion, and Self-Representation in Late Medieval Art (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014), 4. Here Sand discusses the reading of books, and “a recursive loop between subject and object – the viewer sees herself seeing and thereby attains a heightened awareness of her own visibility and her own vision.”

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198 l finding unity in liturgy ecclesiastical offices, as bishop of Grenoble and archbishop of Arles, Toulouse, and Narbonne. Skilled in the temporal administration of the Church, he became vicar general of Avignon, camerlengo of Clement VII, and vicar of the Papal States under John XXIII. A perusal of his ceremonial demonstrates his administrative, institutional touch. This was a man in charge; he thrived on oversight, order, details, and decorum. Discussing his ceremonial, Marc Dykmans states: “Before all, he is focused on the liturgy per se, but his interest also lies in processions, diplomatic receptions, consistories, and papal cavalcades. In addition, more than anyone else he insists before all on his own role . . . He knows all the details that concern the camerlengo.”34 François de Conzié updated Cardinal Stefaneschi’s older ceremonial, offering a tighter script for running the Church sede vacante. He clearly elevated his own role as camerlengo above that of the cardinals and set the camerlengo to preside over most ceremonies. Assigning exact placement to both camerlengo and cardinals allowed him to freeze specific roles, halting innovations that cardinals could have attempted in the interregnum. As the pope’s impending demise neared, the camerlengo reminded cardinals of their chief responsibility: the orderly transfer of power with the election of a new pope. When cardinals gathered around the bed of the moribund to officiate last rites, the camerlengo reminded papal electors to choose wisely, based on faith and divine inspiration.35 He reminded them that Christ ordered them to elect his vicar, and this was the cardinals’ main responsibility. De Conzié closely tied the cardinals to the deceased pope, leaving the survival of the institutional Church to its administrative head, the camerlengo – that is, himself. A striking example of de Conzié’s tendency to inflate his own position at the expense of the cardinals is found in his directive that cardinals witness, but not participate in, the destruction of the all-important matrices of the official papal seal that gave the pope his temporal authority.36 Cardinals witnessed the action but neither initiated nor presided over it. Their institutional continuity resided elsewhere. They attended to the liturgical requirements of the moment: vigils, masses, funerals, and novenas for the deceased, while the camerlengo undertook the protection of papal and ecclesiastical goods and orchestrated the entirety of both funeral and election. In other ways, too, de Conzié tied the cardinals to the physical pope rather than to the institution, a means to combat their institutional perennity. Cardinals are literally relegated to the shadows with the rest of the mourners: he advises them to wear black, or darkcolored coats lined with grey-blue fur called vair. These colors matched those of the family of the pope and those he had promoted, usually a considerable number of persons, who 34

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Dykmans, Cérémonial-Conzié, 3: 92. Regarding de Conzié’s career, see M. L. Celier, “Sur quelques opuscules du camerlingue François de Conziè,” Mélanges d’archéologie et d’histoire 26, no. 1 (1906): 91–108; and Hélène Millet, “Un archevêque de Narbonne grand officier de l’Église: François de Conzié (1347–1431),” in L’archevêché de Narbonne au Moyen Âge. Colloque de Narbonne (2005), ed. Michel Fournié (Toulouse: Méridiennes, 2008), 217–43. “Item quandoque visi sunt aliqui summi pontifices qui caritative exhortati sunt, monuerunt et induxerunt cardinales ibidem astantes, ut post ipsorum obitum vellent esse unanimes et concordes in faciendo electionem successoris, ita tamen quod in hoc haberent Deum pre oculis, cessantibusque quibuscumque affectionibus inordinatis, haberent aspectum ad meliorem et sufficentiorem pro regimine ecclesie Romane . . .” in Dykmans, Cérémonial-Conzié, 3: 263. Dykmans, Cérémonial-Conzié, 3: 264.

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François de Conzié k 199 wore the dark blue of mourning.37 Given the rich symbolic significance of medieval colors, de Conzié linked the deceased pope to the cardinals he had personally elevated, the ones who owed him their promotions. His color coding suggests that he considered cardinals papal kin, rather than institutional servants.38 François de Conzié attached different regulations to other officials. He stipulates that during the funeral ceremonies holders of offices that continued after the pope’s death – for example, administrative officers – should not wear mourning cloth.39 Only the ones whose duties ended with the pope’s life, and whose positions the newly elected pope would replace, wore the dark blue mourning cloth provided by the Apostolic Chamber. These officers included the referendaries, marshals, papal chamberlains, treasurers, secretaries, squires, master ushers, and others.40 In any case, these temporary positions were tied to the physical person of the pope, to his personal care and protection. Here again the camerlengo distinguished between the institutional and the personal. First, he highlighted institutional personnel that functioned independently from the person of pope. Second, those whose presence at the ceremonies was determined by their ties with the pope. By differentiating between these two groups, de Conzié indicated the double

“Consueverunt etiam tunc et in crastinum ac per totam novenam, domini cardinales seculares portare capas coloris obscuri, non tamen omnino nigri, folratas de grisiis, vel de sindone blavo obscuro, illi videlicet qui fuerint de genere pape defuncti, et etiam alii creati per eum. Et quandoque etiam alii idem facere consueverunt, et quandoque non.” Dykmans, Cérémonial-Conzié, 3: 266. 38 We can note that for Ameil too, cloth allowed the camerlengo to outshine the cardinals. If the camerlengo were a cardinal, then he would not be associated with the preparation of the body and its transport to the chapel. But if a camerlengo were not a cardinal, then he would have to supervise the preparation and join the other prelates with the body. In either case, he wore the camerlengo’s train (cauda) – in the semiotic of curial fashion, a sign of his distinction. Here, Ameil (like de Conzié) envisions camerlengos as “immune” to the papal death. The role of these “prime ministers” of the medieval Church stood outside the normal hierarchy existing between the head (the pope) and body of the Church (the College). Confidants of the pope, camerlengos were quite distinct from cardinals, even if sometimes they might actually be one. Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 221. The fact that camerlengos were most often bishops or archbishops and not cardinals may not have escaped liturgists. During the Avignon papacy, only its earliest pope, Clement V, rewarded his camerlengos with “the purple.” The next one to do so was Clement VII some seventy years later in 1383. Perceiving perhaps that holding both positions involved a conflict of interest, Pierre de Cros resigned his position as head of the Apostolic Chamber. See Bernard Guillemain, La cour pontificale d’ Avignon: Étude d’ une société (Paris: De Boccard, 1962), 278–80. 39 Officers such as the camerlengo, notary, auditor of the letters, corrector, sub-deacon, auditors of the palace, commensales, chaplains and chaplains of honor, acolytes, penitentiaries, scribes of the bull’s office and chancery, the auditor of the chamber, his clerks, sergeants, ushers of the first door and of the Iron Gate (in Avignon), messengers, etc. “Sciendum est quod vestes lugubres propter obitum pape non portant aliqui qui habeant officia perpetua in curia, secundum quod sunt camerarius, notarius, auditor contradictarum, corrector, subdiaconus, auditores palatii, capellani commensales et honoris, acoliti, penitentiarii, scriptores sive litterarum apostolicarum sive penitentiarie, auditor camere, clerici camere, servientes armorum, ianitores portarum prime et ferree, ac cursors, et generaliter alii obtinentes beneficia perpetua.” Dykmans, Cérémonial-Conzié, 3: 268. 40 “Alii autem qui habent officia non perpetua, que expirant papa moriente, prout sunt referendarii, marescalus, cubicularii pape, thesaurarius, secretarii, scutiferi et magistri ostiarii et alii similes, portant etiam, posito quod cum istis officiis habeant alia officia perpetua que sunt minora, utpote si referendarii sint auditores vel capellani, scutiferi et magistri ostiarii sint servientes armorum, et sic de similibus.” Dykmans, Cérémonial-Conzié, 3: 268. 37

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200 l finding unity in liturgy nature of the papacy, which was at once enduring in the Church and transitory in the humanity of the pope. As soon as the pope was buried – “Sciendum quod die qua papa fuerit sepultus,” de Conzié directed cardinals to designate some of their own to inventory the papal and ecclesiastical movable goods, with camerlengo, treasurers, and all clerks of the chamber in attendance. He urged them to act diligently and promptly.41 The camerlengo was to supervise the process and keep the keys of the rooms where the various trunks and coffers were deposited.42 De Conzié then entrusted the cardinals with their paramount responsibility: the conclave and its efficient conduct. Throughout the novena, they could meet to discuss events but not the forthcoming election.43 Like a theatrical impresario, the camerlengo supervised the work of the carpenters who framed the physical space where the drama of the election would take place, obstructing all unnecessary doors and windows to ensure the conclave’s integrity. We can note that de Conzié is not overly interested in the pope’s body. He addresses the pope’s body (funus) simply at its burial site during the funeral and notes its entourage, comprising mainly cardinals, auditors of the palace, chaplains of the pope, and the camerlengo, of course.44 Nor does de Conzié mention the so-called empty coffin, the castrum doloris, which was a substitute for the pope’s institutional presence; the term does not appear in his rubrics. Meanwhile, cardinals announced to the Christian world the death of the pope. This was their only speaking role in this drama. It is interesting to note that while the camerlengo begrudgingly permitted them a few moments in the spotlight, he still directed them, scripting verbatim the language they were to use. Cardinals still could not improvise; they needed to use the style directed by chancery protocol.45 The camerlengo both gave and took away. In an unusual concession, de Conzié allowed cardinals to use the special linguistic forms, more papali, normally reserved for the pope. We have to assume that cardinals took great pride in speaking with the papal voice. They could either call their interlocutor son or brother, and use the familiar tu.46 But we also wonder about the level of trust between the camerlengo and cardinals when de Conzié adds that, once sealed, the letters announcing the death of the pope could only travel via the camerlengo’s couriers.47 41

Dykmans, Cérémonial-Conzié, 3: 268. Dykmans, Cérémonial-Conzié, 3: 269–70. 43 For a more detailed description of the preparations, see Rollo-Koster, Raiding Saint Peter, 56–59. 44 “Sciendum est quod domini cardinales habent equitando more solito procedere et se adunare in ecclesia, in qua est papa sepeliendus, in choro vel in alio loco ad hoc disposito, antequam veniat funus. Item funus huiusmodi habent deferre auditores palatii et capellani pape, et camerarius portando oram panni ipsum precedere, et alli prelati cum familiaribus cardinalium subsequi, prout est de cardinalibus, cum sepeliuntur, fieri consuetum.” Dykmans, Cérémonial-Conzié, 3: 268. 45 “Sub forma ad hoc specialiter ordinate et alias observata prout continetur in formulariis que secretarii et abbreviatores penes se habere debent.” Dykmans, Cérémonial-Conzié, 3: 271. 46 “Advertatur tamen omnino ad modum scribendi quia sede apostolica vacante collegium scribit omnibus more papali, videlicet Filios et Fratres nominando quos papa Filios aut Fratres nominat eas etiam intitulando prout ipse intitulando scribit seu intitulat, et personis singularibus etiam singulariter loquendo.” Dykmans, Cérémonial-Conzié, 3: 271. 47 “Littere autem huiusmodi debent sigillis priorum cuiuslibet ordinis impendentibus sigillari et eas confestim debet camerarius per proprios cursores sumptibus camere destinare.” Dykmans, Cérémonial-Conzié, 3: 271. 42

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François de Conzié k 201 Eventually, the cells of the conclave were assigned to cardinals by a system of random allotment designed to prevent squabbles over living quarters. De Conzié goes so far as to itemize all goods allowed within the cells. Cardinals eventually entered the conclave to accomplish their principal task, to deliberate about and elect a new pope. We will leave them on the threshold of their conclave to return to the subject of papal funerals.48 Because de Conzié was more interested in the institution than in the person of the pope, his prescriptions concerning the care of the pope’s body were only cursory, incorporated with the other responsibilities of the camerlengo during the interregnum. While chamberlains washed, readied, and dressed the pope’s body, the camerlengo secured all valuable goods. Only the ecclesial institution and its property preoccupied him. Cardinals were just not involved. The camerlengo was the one selected to preserve the movable wealth and archives (libri) of the pope.49 Liturgical ornaments and movable wealth (silverware, jewelry, vestments, and ornaments), were understood as the pope’s personal property since they were in his chamber. The fact that the camerlengo himself kept the keys that protected these goods indicates that nothing really separated the pope’s personal from institutional goods. Still, de Conzié as camerlengo deemed himself the only one responsible. De Conzié’s description of the vigil, directly preceding the funeral services, recommends that the pope (corpus pape) be dressed in his red habit regardless of the season.50 The next mention of the deceased pope (funus) occurs within a larger discussion of the arrival of the corpse at the church. Auditors and papal chaplains carried the pope’s body, with the camerlengo holding the tip of the shroud, preceding them. Note again his primacy and the tactile quality of the gesture. The symbolic chain of power went unbroken, linking the coffin to the camerlengo. All other prelates and the cardinals followed the body separately, according to usages displayed during cardinals’ funerals.51 De Conzié ends this section by enumerating the incipit of the masses to be offered and naming the officiating personnel. Then he discusses the general inventory of movable goods conducted under the cardinals’ supervision on the pope’s day of burial.52

48 49

50

51

52

See my discussion of his itemization in Rollo-Koster, Raiding Saint Peter, 55–57. Primo camerarius pape, dum cubicularii ipsius mundabunt, lavabunt et parabunt corpus, debet ordinare quod statim et sine mora cum omni diligentia pecunie numerate, vaxelle auree vel argentee, aut alterius metalli cuiuscumque, libri, anuli et iocalia, panni lecti, paramenta et quecumque alia, ac qualiacumque bona extiterint, reponantur in coffris aut caxiis, sive domibus bonis et fortibus, que etiam claudantur fortiter, et sere eorum sigillentur signeto, clavibus talium etiam penes eum remanentibus. Dykmans, Cérémonial-Conzié, 3: 264. “Est tamen sciendum quod corpus pape est collocandum in lectica, cum fient vigilie et demum portandum ad sepulturam. Debetque indui omnibus pontificalibus vestimentis rubei coloris, quocumque tempore moriatur.” Dykmans, Cérémonial-Conzié, 3: 266. “Sciendum est quod domini cardinales habent equitando more solito procedere et se adunare in ecclesia, in qua est papa sepeliendus, in choro vel in alio loco ad hoc disposito, antequam veniat funus. Item funus huiusmodi habent deferre auditores palatii et capellani pape, et camerarius portando oram panni ipsum precedere, et alii prelati cum familiaribus cardinalium subsequi prout est de cardinalibus, cum sepeliuntur fieri consuetum.” Dykmans, Cérémonial-Conzié, 3: 268. De agendis infra dictam novena: Sciendum quod die qua papa fuerit sepultus, facto officio, domini cardinales debent omnes congregari in palatio, videlicet in consistorio vel alio loco ad hoc per eos ordinando, ubi debent esse scamna ordinata pro ipsis sine quibuscumque pannis

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202 l finding unity in liturgy François de Conzié scripted his ceremonial emphasizing the camerlengo’s and the perennity of the ecclesial institution’s performance, thus minimizing both the pope’s body and the cardinals. When he mentioned the pope’s body, he linked it to the institution, rather than to a physical body. Describing the funeral, and burial of the corpse, he actually utilizes more often the word papa than the words corpus or funus, insisting thus on primacy of the office of the papacy over the man/pope.53 His pope was more an institutional thing, a “res pape,” than a man holding an office. This may have allowed de Conzié the fiction of institutional continuity. As camerlengo, he continued to serve the Church after a pope’s death as he did during a pope’s life. Of course, cardinals served their purpose too; they participated in the funeral liturgy and were absorbed in the preparation and activities of the conclave. But they had to maintain their place below his leadership. De Conzié’s most obvious fiction rests in his injunction to act as if the pope was still alive. When cardinals entered the conclave, they had to meet in the camera paramenti (the chambre d’apparat in Avignon or vesting chamber). The chamber served as public locus for discussions and masses. There, the chairs set for the cardinals were directed toward an altar that replaced the pope’s cathedra. This sitting arrangement lasted until the election of the next pope.54 Even during the sede vacante cardinals remained subjects of their leader.

Pierre Ameil

P

ierre Ameil, the patriarch of Grado, also penned a ceremonial at roughly the same time as de Conzié, but in contrast Ameil’s allegiance remained entirely Roman and Urbanist.55 Pierre Ameil started his career as a simple Augustinian in Limoux, near his hometown of Brénac in the French Midi. His degree in theology led him to the papal court in Avignon at the time of Urban V, where he became employed as an associate of the papal sacristan, who served simultaneously as papal librarian and confessor. Gregory XI aut bancalibus, et ibidem debent ordinare tres ex seipsis qui faciant inventarium de bonis mobilibus restantibus post obitum pape defuncti que ad ipsum aut Romanam ecclesiam pertinebant. Ad quod deputari et ordinari consueverunt tres priores cuiuslibet ordinis, videlicet primus episcopus, primus presbiter et primus diaconus in curia tunc existentes. Quibus impeditis aut ad hec vacare seu intendere non valentibus, deputentur alii in dicto ordine ipsos subsequentes. 53

54

55

Dykmans, Cérémonial-Conzié, 3: 269–70. “In qua est papa sepeliendus”; “sepeliens papam”; “Sciendum quod die qua papa fuerit sepultus”; “eadem die dum facta fuerit pape sepulture.” Dykmans, Cérémonial-Conzié, 3: 268–70. Item sciendum quod dicti domini cardinales, qui tunc particulariter ingredientur palatium, debent se reducere ad locum eis ordinatum pro communibus colloquiis el missis audiendis, qui est in Avinione camera paramenti, ubi debet esse altare paratum in loco in quo, papa vivente. stare solet cathedra sua, et circumcirca scamna ordinata in modum trianguli, ibique sedebunt expectantes aliorum omnium adventum, ita videlicet quod domini episcopi et presbiteri sedebunt ordine suo ad dextrum cornu altaris ipsius iuxta ipsorum numerum continuando, et domini diaconi ad sinistrum. Et istum modum sedendi servabunt et continuabunt, donec papa sit creatus, quoties ibi vel alibi congregabuntur. Dykmans, Cérémonial-Conzié, 3: 278. Regarding his authorship of the ordo, see Schimmelpfennig, Die Zeremonienbücher, 107–14. A sketch of his career is at 112–13.

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Pierre Ameil k 203 appointed Ameil papal librarian and bishop of Senigallia, and he was drawn into the pope’s most intimate circle when the pope made him papal confessor. Urban VI maintained Ameil as papal confessor and his closeness to events made him a compelling witness of the turmoil of the Great Schism. He remained steadfast in his allegiance to the Urbanist obedience until the end of his life. Around 1386, Urban elevated him to the patriarchate of Grado; later, Boniface IX eventually made him referendary.56 It was while serving Boniface as papal nuncio in Avignon, in 1394, that he tried to prevent a new election at the death of Clement VII. Once his attempt failed with the election of Benedict XIII, he returned to Rome, where he remained. According to Marc Dykmans, Ameil frequently suffered financial distress when holders of his benefices did not pay their taxes or send him the goods they owed him. Certainly, these difficulties were caused by the struggle between the various obediences, a fact that we encounter again in his testamentary succession. In 1399, Ameil requested from the pope the permission to draw his testament, and he bequeathed his personal property in Rome to his former convent in Limoux, but the Schism blocked his intentions. The Limoux Augustinians followed the Clementist obedience and the Roman pope did not allow them to enjoy Ameil’s Roman property. Meanwhile, Boniface allowed Ameil to donate to Venetian churches as a favor, transferring him from the patriarchate of Grado to the titular patriarchate of Alexandria, which was in Muslim territory, and to the bishopric of Dax in Gascony, a see with better revenues. Ameil died in Rome before May 1401; and in that same year, Boniface ordered the Apostolic Chamber to seize Ameil’s Roman property. Ameil had a somewhat abundant collection with his 1375 inventory of the papal library, his rhymed chronicle concerning the return of Pope Gregory XI to Rome in 1377, and finally, his ceremonial.57 It is important to underscore here that Pierre Ameil’s ordo was the first to focus particularly on the body of the deceased pope, prescribing behavior during the pope’s final agony, embalming, exposition, and transport to the funerary chapel. Ameil ends his ordo with a rubric concerning the conclave and a few historical notes on the deaths of popes Gregory XI and Urban VI, noting the exact placement of the candles that adorned the latter pope’s coffin, a focus suggesting his attachment to the person of the deceased pope.58 It should be noted that Peter D. Clarke has recently highlighted “the major role that minor

56

57 58

This office was created by Pope Boniface VIII for a specific person, his former chaplain Pedro Rodríguez. It was loosely attached to the Chancery and the holder participated in the drafting process of the apostolic letters. Still, the officer answered solely to the pope (and not to the head of the Apostolic Chamber, the camerlengo) and it remains difficult to identify office holders in the existing documentation. See Pierre Jugie, “Cardinaux et chancelleries pendant la papauté d’Avignon: une voie royale vers les honneurs,” in Offices et papauté (xive–xviie siècle): Charges, hommes, destins, ed. Armand Jamme and Olivier Poncet (Rome: École française de Rome, 2005), 651–739. In time, the office evolved into a place for sorting petitions newly arrived at the papal court and reporting them to the pope. See also Bruno Katterbach, Referendarii utriusque signaturae a Martino V ad Clementem IX et praelati signaturae supplicationum a Martino V ad Leonem XIII (Vatican City: Bibliotheca Apostolica Vaticana, 1931). The older source, W. von Hofmann, Forschungen zur Geschichte der kurialen Behörden vom Schisma bis zur Reformation (Rome: Verlag Von Loescher, 1914), also details the office. Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 13–20. Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 216–33.

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204 l finding unity in liturgy penitentiaries played in the funeral preparations for a dead pope.”59 Documents found in Washington, DC, at the Catholic University of America Library, manuscript 185, describe and prescribe behavior but cannot be considered liturgical ordines per se. These documents are a series of statutes concerning penitentiaries and not full itemization of the liturgical calendar. Nevertheless, they obviously influence Ameil’s ordo. There is no doubt that Ameil was concerned with the Schism when he penned his work. When, at the end of his rubrics, he testifies to the death of Gregory XI, he also illuminates the origins of the Schism. He suggests that cardinals were worried about the effectiveness of the Romans’ safeguarding of the conclave. He states, “Again, it should be noted that the lord cardinals after the death of Lord Gregory XI chose to hear the mass of the Holy Ghost in the hospital of the Holy Spirit on the day after the [beginning?] of the novena. The reason was that they wanted discuss with the Romans the safety of the conclave, before they entered it.”60 The ospedale was located close to the Vatican in the Borgo. It seems that Ameil took the cardinals’ side in articulating their worries about Roman insecurity. Perhaps, however, he is offering important evidence that the cardinals had had plenty of time to arrange the inviolability of the conclave. This suggests to us an important fact: the ceremonial of Ameil, like many others, focused on standardized generic directives, but it also includes eyewitness information coming directly from the author’s own experience. Ameil’s personal experience with the Schism informs his concern and care for the remains of the deceased pope as a strategy both to assert and to legitimize his obedience to the Roman pontiff. By exalting the papal body, Ameil was legitimizing this pope and not some other pretender pope, a focal point of his obedience, the devotional center of a ritual of political and liturgical continuity. In his detailed account of the funeral, Ameil discusses the personnel involved, when and where they kept vigils, the appropriate vestments to be worn (and the necessity to be hooded), the chants they sang, where they took their meals, who furnished the wax for the torches and tapers, and how many masses were celebrated throughout the palace.61 Unlike de Conzié’s account, Ameil’s follows the body wherever it went. He itemizes the funeral procession headed by a papal subdeacon carrying the cross, followed by the coffin, the camerlengo and treasurer dressed in black (if they were not cardinals), the cardinals, and all other attendants processing two-by-two. He comments on the number of torches and candles that should accompany the catafalque and the silk cloths decorated with the pope’s and church’s arms that covered it during the novena.62 Contrary to de Conzié, who treats the pope’s body minimally during the funeral, Ameil returns to the body (which he calls corpus or funus) at several moments of his script and to the implement used to carry it, the litter (feretrum, lectica), as well as the catafalque (castrum Peter D. Clarke, “Between Avignon and Rome: Minor Penitentiaries at the Papal Curia in the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Centuries,” Rivista di storia della Chiesa in Italia 63 (2009): 469. Emil Göller, Die päpstliche Ponitentiarie von ihrem Ursprung bis zu ihrer Umgestaltung unter Pius V (Rome: Loescher, 1907), 144–46, addresses the same documents. 60 “Item sciendum quod domini cardinales, post mortem domini Gregorii pape XI voluerunt audire in hospitali Sancti Spiritus missam de Sancto Spiritu, sequenti die post novenam. Causa fuit quia voluerunt habere concilium cum Romanis, antequam intrarent conclave, pro conservatione conclavis.” Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 232. 61 Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 220–21. 62 Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 222–23. 59

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Pierre Ameil k 205 doloris).63 It is noteworthy that Ameil had a choice of words to describe the dead body and that he preferred corpus over funus or even papa. It may not be possible to decipher the subtle difference medieval people sensed between these words, but in this case the usages of the words point to Ameil’s linguistic semiotics. According to du Cange’s Glossarium, both corpus and funus were employed in the Middle Ages to describe a corpse or cadaver.64 Of course, in its translation as “body,” corpus also maintained the sense of “being” in an institutional sense, as in corpus politicum, corporatum, ecclesiae, regis, etc., which still remains today, a meaning that funus did not carry.65 It is to be expected that medieval people sensed a difference between the words, since after all they never named Christ funus Domini or celebrated the feast of funus Christi. Thus, Ameil chose for the pope’s body a term that still retained some institutional qualities that a “corpse” or “cadaver” did not hold. Could this be because Ameil could not separate the living physical body of the pope from its institutional presence? Ameil’s choice of words indicates that for him the pope could not be absolutely dead (funus) because if one of his two qualities, the physical, had ceased to exist, the other, the institutional, remained. Ameil’s first mention of corpus appears not in relation to the pope’s body but to the Eucharist that the pope received during his agony: “et recipere corpus dominicum.”66 After this instance, Ameil uses the word for the pope’s body numerous times: in the description of the mortuary bath, when the body is rubbed with balm; in the discussion of the location of the body; when penitentiaries transport the body to the chapel accompanied by the cantors; when the entire household sits with the body in the chapel; when the body is moved out of its chamber allowing for the initiation of the inventory of goods; during the funeral procession; and when cardinals return to the body after the funeral sermon.67 Through the number of incidences, it becomes clear that Ameil is more comfortable using corpus than any other word. Ameil designates the pope’s body funus in three instances only, when the papal corpse received specific liturgical blessings: its benediction, during the penitentiaries’ vigil, and

63

The definitions of feretrum (sarcophagus, litter, bier, coffin, shrine) are available in Du Cange’s Glossarium mediae et infimae latinitatis available at http://ducange.enc.sorbonne.fr/FERETRUM1. On this word, see also Augustus Welby Northmore Pugin and Bernard Smith, Glossary of Ecclesiastical Ornament and Costume (London: Bernard Quaritch, 1868), 131–37. The definition of funus (cadaver) is available at http://ducange.enc.sorbonne.fr/funus. Castrum doloris (the empty catafalque) is discussed at length in Paravicini Bagliani, The Pope’s Body, 116, 158, 322. 64 See http://ducange.enc.sorbonne.fr/CORPUS2 and http://ducange.enc.sorbonne.fr/FUNUS1. 65 See David Stehling, Semantic Change in the Early Modern English Period: Latin Influences on the English Language (Hamburg: Anchor Academic, 2014), 40–42. 66 Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 216. 67 Lavent corpus bene . . . lavetur etiam corpus cum bono vino albo . . . ultimo etiam totum corpus multum fricetur et ungatur cum balsamo bono . . . sciendum quod lectica debet poni in camera pape ubi corpus positum est post lotionem . . .. Dicti penitentiarii portant corpus cantando Subvenite sancti Dei cum cantoribus capelle . . .. Camerarius vero et alii prelati domus, et tota familia domus . . . associent corpus et in capella sedeant . . . notandum quod immediate dum corpus extra cameram fuerit, camerarius debet recipere omnes claves . . . et omnes processionaliter bini et bini post corpus vadant . . . finito vero sermone, omnes cardinales . . . vadunt ad corpus si non est sepultum. Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 216, 219–22.

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206 l finding unity in liturgy during the funerary procession.68 Ameil’s “corpse” is not only the physical remains of a former pope, it is a body in mutation, exalted through ritualized blessings.69 Ameil associates corpus with funus in one instance when he underscores the relationship camerlengo and cardinals maintained with institutional perennity.70 A camerlengo (an institutional survivor of the papal death) who was a cardinal (another institutional survivor) did not associate with the cadaver (funus). It is of note that the cardinal/camerlengo wore a red train, wearing on his person the color of the papacy.71 The institutional continuity present in the cardinal/camerlengo counterbalanced the finality of funus, a cadaver that could not be associated with the perennity of the institution. If the camerlengo was not a cardinal, however, he became the chief of the papal household. He supervised everything related to the body (this time corpus) while wearing the black of mourning. Lastly, Ameil informs us of the positioning of the body and its exposition. Feretrum and lectica, the litter used to carry the body, are both utilized, suggesting that the body of the pope was most often carried openly and visibly.72 The insistence on the color of the cloth used, the arms, and pillows would indicate that indeed his feretrum was a bier. But Ameil’s simultaneous use of the term feretrum for castrum doloris indicates that it was the structure that covered the litter or bier. Most importantly, the castrum, which was emblazoned with the symbols of the man and the Church, covered a body present under the structure.73 The fact that a body remained with the structure is made obvious when Ameil orders cardinals not to approach the body until the four who would bless the corpse arrived.74 Every day an ecclesiastical guard honored the body, and it was blessed with holy water and incense.75

“Aspergant funus aqua benedicta, et incensent”; “Nam in ilia nocte debent vigilare ante funus sive in camera pape”; and “ita quod familiares sint induti antequam funus exeat de palatio.” Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 220, 222. 69 It could be argued that in relation to Christ, the term funus (rarely used anyway) is associated with his dead body (funus Christi) before resurection. Here too, it represents a body in transformation. 70 “Item notandum quod si camerarius sit cardinalis, dum corpus lavatur et portatur ad capellam, non consuevit associare funus. Quod si non sit cardinalis, debet omnia videre et ordinare, et corpus cum aliis prelatis associare, et sibi portatur cauda, sive sit cardinalis, sive non.” Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 221. 71 “Primo ipse camerarius indutus capa nigra, si non sit cardinalis (et tunc cauda sibi non portatur, nec per totam novenam in exequiis). Quod si sit cardinalis, non induitur nigro, neque rubeo aut viridi colore, sed aliis coloribus.” Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 222. 72 “Dicti penitentiarii ponant eum super feretrum novum vel lectica;” “Item subtus caput eius sit pulvinar coopertum de panno aureo, et post pedes eius in eodem feretro aliud pulvinar consimile cum floxis de serico et cordonibus de auro, super quod debent stare duo capelli seu pilei pape”; “Pulvinaria debent esse latitudinis feretri”; “in illa processione semper subdiaconus pape baiulet crucem ante feretrum”; “Sciendum quod lectica debet poni in camera pape ubi corpus positum est post lotionem”; and “Posito super lecticam cum cruce.” Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 218, 220, 222. 73 “Omni die ad minus sint XL torticia circa feretrum seu castrum doloris, desuper vero non debent esse candele nisi prima die”; “Et in novena dictum castrum debet circumdari panne serico cum armis pape et ecclesie . . .. Et subtus debet esse feretrum coopertum duobus pannis de auro nobilissimo, etiam cum armis, et in quolibet capite unum pulvinar de eodem panno coopertum, unum ad caput et aliud ad caudam, et super quolibet debet stare unum pileum pulcrum pape per totam novena.” Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 223. 74 “Nec cardinales non induti accedant ad feretrum, sed expectant illos quatuor qui absolvunt corpus.” Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 223. 75 “Item omni die dantur candele prelatis et indutis de nigro, stantibus circa feretrum.” Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 224. 68

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Pierre Ameil k 207 Ameil reiterates the presence of the papal body under the castrum doloris when he discusses the second mass of the novena, stating that the officiant goes to the body under the castrum doloris.76 Note that he emphasizes the litter under the castrum, meaning that the physical remains of the pope took precedence over the institutional structure (castrum doloris). Still, both were present. All in all, it seems that Ameil refuses to separate the humanity of the pope from his institutional character. Death did not detach man from office. Ameil’s funeral kept the pope’s body with his institutional symbols. And the pope, in fact, remained one of these symbols, reminding audiences that even in death, the pope performed the papacy. In contrast to de Conzié, who skimmed over the agony and preparation of the papal corpse for his funeral, Ameil pauses in his ceremonial to orchestrate these moments. As noted previously, Peter Clarke has edited rulings emanating from the Penitentiary, “the central office of the medieval Western Church concerned with matters of conscience.” According to these texts, penitentiaries (the ones who dealt with administering penances) played a part during the funerary arrangements.77 Clarke estimates that the documents predated 1291, making them the earliest focused on papal death. Ameil obviously relied on these documents to prepare his text. His description of the embalming procedure is quite similar to earlier texts.78 But there were differences. For example, penitentiaries who had controlled the entire process of washing, embalming, and dressing the body were with 76

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“Post secundan missam immediate qui eam dixit vadit ad feretrum subtus castrum doloris, deposita planeta, indutus pluviali, cum suis ministris.” Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 226. Clarke, “Between Avignon and Rome,” 455. The text reads: Quomodo penitentiarii debent convenire in morte pape. Decimum est quod quando moritur papa, tunc statim debent omnes penitentiarii ubi ipsius corpus fuerit convenire ac reverenter ac devote cum cubiculariis et elemosinario corpus pape super tabulam positum primo cum bona aqua calida et postmodum cum bono vino odorifero, ut fetor humani cadaveris removeatur et humores restringantur et corpus non denigretur nec deturpetur, lavare et cum pannis sinapis vel bombice et aliis que necessaria fuerint sic aptare ut nec fetor nec alia indecentia possint aliis tedium generare. Notandum est quod a genibus usque ad umbilicum, ubi sunt infirmiora corporis, debet tractari et claudi et aptari per elemosinarium coadiuvantibus, si necesse est, penitentiariis. Reliquas autem partes corporis penitentiarii coaptabunt. Postmodum involuto corpore in munda sindone vel cilicio vel habitu suo, si religiosus quando in papam assumptus est, induatur omnibus sacris indumentis et calcietur sandaliis et pallietur pallio et mitretur mitra et apponantur ei sirotece et annulus pontificalis in manibus et paretur totaliter ac si deberet in pontificalibus celebrare. Postea corpus iam taliter paratum deponatur super unum matalasium (?) [mattress] prius bono panno serico coopertum. Et tunc omnes penitentiarii in circuitu corporis ordinati accipiant matalasium manibus suis et reverenter portent eum ad medium magni palacii sine zelo et ibidem super lectum ordinatum et preparatum a camerario reponant, et tunc osculantes sibi reverenter pedes ex tunc in orationibus et vigiliis iuvare poterunt capellanos. Postquam autem corpus pape traditum fuerit sepulture cum cardinales veniunt ibidem, statim omnes penitentiarii debent se ibidem presentare et per cardinalem qui curam gerit penitentiarie petere ut ipsi cardinales penitentiariis committant officium exequendum et etiam quod eis mandent bene de prebendis consuetis per camerarium dum vacaverit Romana ecclesia provideri. Quamdiu vero vacaverit scribatur in litteris penitentiarie ‘auctoritate sancte Romane ecclesie’ qua fungimur et non ‘auctoritate domini pape.’ Clarke, “Between Avignon and Rome,” 503.

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208 l finding unity in liturgy Ameil restricted to washing and not embalming. Also, instead of carrying the bed to the middle of the palace, as was formerly done, penitentiaries brought it to the pope’s chamber, where the vigil was held.79 Some of the benchmarks of Ameil’s ordo detail the presence of curial officers with the body, washing and embalming, the dressing of the body in episcopal garb, transport and exposition of the body, and finally burial. Ameil not only discussed the funeral but also the days that preceded death. He choreographed in the minutest detail the cumbersome protocol governing the final hours of the pope. He advised papal physicians to forewarn his confessors of impending death to ensure the pope’s spiritual readiness. The pope needed to repent and clear his conscience. Ameil emphasized the extraordinary quality of a pope’s final penance, insisting on this unique and yet exemplary model to follow. “The light of the universe,” the “head of all Christianity” showed the way; all returned to God at the end.80 Ameil directed that some two or three days before the pope’s death, the camerlengo was to summon the cardinals to the pope’s bedside in order to witness the pope’s last will, the choosing of his burial site, and his solemn recommendations, including repaying the Church’s debt – something at which the cardinals may have balked. The pope then proclaimed unity of faith and recommended to them the welfare of the Church, advising them to lead as good shepherds “in peace and tranquility.” Whatever their conscience directed would be good for the Church’s government.81 Finally, the pope blessed the attending cardinals before they withdrew.82 Thus, in his last moments, the pope guided the cardinals away from selfishness toward the common good of the Church.83 79 80

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Clarke, “Between Avignon and Rome,” 471. “Maxime quomodo ipse est lumen totius universi ideo debet dare exemplum omnibus regibus et principibus laicis et clericis, qui in infirmitatibus ad Deum recurrunt et ordinant de conscientiis suis, ita ipse debet facere, qui est caput totius christianitatis.” Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 216. “Item debet eis recommendare Ecclesiam, et quod provideant de bono pastore in pace et in tranquillitate, et quod si eis videretur bonum, talis vel tales essent boni pro regimine iuxta conscientiam suam.” Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 217. Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 216–17. A modern reader may wonder how medieval physicians predicted approaching death. While no ceremonials specifically address the signs of imminent death for a pope, medieval physicians may have been cognizant of the work of Muslim medical practitioners such as Abū Yūsuf al Kindī, the ninth-century Iraqi phsycian, who offered tell-tale signs: A sick man dies [lying] on his back while his hands and feet are contracted or spread out, contrary to his habit. His eyes are sunken or protrude while they turn away from each other. Veins, red and pale, appear. Blackness is visible in the whiteness of his eyes while one eye is smaller than the other. His eyes squint which they had not before. His temples are sunken; the lobes of his ears are contracted; the skin of his forehead is dry; his nose is sharp and pointed. He sleeps with open mouth, and if whiteness appears in his eyes during his sleep, not being his habit while he was healthy [it is a sign of death]. Black erysipelas; black or green stinking spittle; the white colour, especially in [the case of brain-disease]; black urine in [the case of] burning fever; light stinges as if by ants; small, slow and cold breath; excrements in which a black sinew appears; red, dead worms which come out [of his body when he is] not in his critical days; [all these are signs of death]. Gerrit Bos, “A Recovered Fragment on the Signs of Death from Al
Kindi’s ‘Medical Summaries,’” in Zeitschrift für Geschichte Der arabisch-islamischen Wissenschaften 6 (1990), 192. For a discussion of Hippocratean signs of death (signa mortifera), see Rosa Kuhne Brabant, “The Arabic Prototype of the ‘Capsula Eburnea,’” Quaderni di studi arabi 5, no. 6 (1987): 431–41; and Frederick Paxton, “Signa

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Pierre Ameil k 209 Once left with his small group of familiars, the pope received the Final Anointing. The camerlengo and chamberlains secured all his goods, a preoccupation that we have already encountered in de Conzié’s text. For Ameil, too, the camerlengo ordered the closing and securing of all the gates of the papal palace, allowing only a single one to remain open for communication. Meanwhile the pope confessed, received the Eucharist, and petitioned an indulgence in mortis articulo. Ameil then moved to a detailed account of the body’s preparation for burial. Significantly, Ameil does not address the destruction of the papal seal’s matrices, an important lacuna addressed at greater length later in the chapter. Discussing the embalming of popes, Agostino Paravicini Bagliani finds the first reference to this custom in the life of Pope Pascal II, who died in 1118 after a lengthy reign. In this case, body cavities were not filled; he was simply “covered with Balsam.”84 Paravicini Bagliani considers the case isolated and independent from the later development of the public exposition ritual. He also finds evidence of a somewhat formal papal cleansing ordo (if not specifically embalming) before the fourteenth century in a book that describes customs of the later thirteenth century (1261–1294). He notes that embalming was not really considered, and the corpse was simply “prepared,” perhaps by rubbing it with oil and balsam.85 Dominic Olariu has recently refined this chronology and correlates embalming practices with efforts at preserving bodily resemblance using external wax encasing or wax thanatopraxy.86 He argues, using the work of the later Master of Ceremonies Paris de Grassis (1470–1528) that evisceration may have taken place on papal bodies. In effect, “Paris affirms having read in ‘ancient ceremonials’ (ceremonialibus antiquis), now lost, instructions for eviscerating cadavers in summer and even winter.”87 It is interesting to note that de Grassis utilizes a language actually quite similar to Guy de Chauliac’s, whom he may have read.88

84

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Mortifera: Death and Prognostication in Early Medieval Monastic Medicine,” Bulletin of the History of Medicine 67 (1993): 631–50. Paravicini-Bagliani, The Pope’s Body, 134. For the embalming practice of the English nobility, see Danielle Westerhof, Death and the Noble Body in Medieval England (Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 2008), 75–95. Paravicini-Bagliani, The Pope’s Body, 306. During these years, almoners prepared the pope’s corpse, dressed him according to custom after receiving papal regalia from the penitentiary, and then passed the body on to the penitentiaries. As a somewhat dubious reward for these intimate services, the main almoner received the bed in which the pope had died. Dominic Olariu, La genèse de la représentation ressemblante de l’homme reconsidérations du portrait à partir du 13e siècle (Bern: Peter Lang, 2014), 83–280. The author also appends several texts dating c. 90 to 1558 describing embalming methods, including Guillelmo de Saliceto’s (+ c. 1277–1280), Simon de Genoa’s, (c. 1230–1290), Matteo Silvaticus’s (c. 1285–1342), Henri de Mondeville’s (Mondeville or Ermondeville, c. 1260–1320), and Guy de Chauliac’s (c. 1298–1368). See 469–82. Olariu (see 515–21) edits and translates into French Boncompagno da Signa, al. Boncompagnus, liv. 1, chap. 27, “De consuetudinibus sepelientium,” (1215) from the edition by Steven M. Wight. See also Rémi Corbineau and Patrice Georges-Zimmerman, “Le parfum de la mort: Plantes et aromates pour la preparation des corps (moyen âge et période modern), in Parfums et odeurs au Moyen Âge: Science, Usage, Symbols, ed. Agostino Paravicini Bagliani (Florence: SISMEL, 2015), 161–80, who discuss plants and spices used for the procedure. Olariu, La genèse de la représentation ressemblante de l’homme, 124. In his Regimen custodiae corporum mortuorum, the famous medieval surgeon Gui de Chauliac (c. 1300–1368) explains two types of embalming: a “clean” practice for the cold season, which he considered a better fit for bodies that were skinny and dry, and a more invasive one, better fitting fat

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210 l finding unity in liturgy In both cases, the body was laid facedown to prevent swelling. And if this measure failed, he recommended that the abdomen be punctured on several locations to release “water and wind.” De Chauliac adds that this advice came to him from an apothecary of the pope, Jacopo Migliorini, who claimed to have embalmed several popes.89 De Chauliac’s embalming aimed at delaying the corpse’s decomposition for at least eight days, a time range that allowed for a body to be exposed and then interred. His student, Piero Argellata, who became a famed surgeon at the University of Bologna, confirmed this estimate when he prided himself on having prepared Alexander V’s body so expertly that it lasted eight days. This was certainly an accomplishment, since Alexander V, who had died in Bologna in 1410, was left with his face, hands, and feet exposed and visible.90 At this point, it is essential to note that elaborate descriptions of embalming practices evidenced the incredible care applied to the pope’s body, a reflection of its status and dignity. If we accept De Grassis’s mention of the existence of an embalming praxis before his own fifteenth century, we can then trace some of its origin. Peter Clarke’s edition of the 1290s Penitentiary statutes permits refining this chronology. In Clarke’s words, When a pope died, all of them [penitentiaries] had to assemble at his corpse laid out on a table, and, aided by the papal almoner and cubicularii, they had to wash the pope’s body with warm water and afterwards sweet-smelling wine. In order to preserve the body further from decay they also had to “fit” it (aptare) with silk and cloths of “mustard” . . .. Indeed the tenth statute required the papal almoner to “close” and prepare the body’s lower parts between the knees and navel. The minor penitentiaries might help him, if required, and prepare the rest of the body. It was then covered either in fresh muslin, a hair-shirt, or a habit (if the pope had been a religious on his election).91

bodies. Guido de Chauliaco, Cyrurgia magna, tract. 6, doct. 1, ch. 8. See La Grande chirurgie de maistre Guy de Chauliac . . . traduite nouvellement en François . . . par Maistre Simon Mingelousaulx . . . première édition [suivi de l’Antidotaire] (Bordeaux, 1672), 522–24. 89 Joëlle Rollo-Koster, The People of Curial Avignon: A Critical Edition of the Liber Divisionis and the Matriculae of Notre Dame la Majour (Lampeter; Lewiston: Edwin Mellen, 2009), 91, 139, 165, 330–31; and Anne-Marie Hayez, Le terrier avignonnais de l’évêque Anglic Grimoard: 1366–1368 (Paris: CTHS, 1993), 156. I detailed medieval embalming practices in Joëlle Rollo-Koster, “Failed Ritual? Medieval Papal Funerals and the Death of Clement VI (1352),” in Histories of Post-Mortem Contagion: Infectious Corpses and Contested Burials, ed. Christos Lynteris, and Nicholas Evans (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2017), 27–53, especially 36–39. See also Guido de Chauliaco, Cyrurgia magna, tract. 6, doct. 1, ch. 8. See the most recent edition, Guigonis de Caulhiaco (Guy de Chauliac), Inventarium sive chirurgia magna, ed. Michael McVaugh (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 1: 307–8; or Cyrurgia magna, tract. 6, doct. 1, ch. 8 in La Grande chirurgie de maistre Guy de Chauliac, 522–24. 90 Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, Morte e elezione del papa: Norme, riti e conflitti (Rome: Viella, 2013), 240–41: and Olariu, La genèse de la représentation ressemblante de l’homme, 128. Traditionally, the face of the pope was covered when exposed in the chapel, uncovered for the public display in the church, and covered when he laid on his bier. It is also possible that the assumed standard rate of decomposition played a role in these calculations. Discussing medieval techniques for the preservation of corpses, the forensic anthropologist Patrice Georges cites a well-known assumption in the Middle Ages that the Cemetery of the Innocents in Paris was a place of choice for burial because its powerful soil could quickly decompose a corpse to the bone in nine days. See Patrice Georges, “Mourir c’est pourrir un peu: Intentions et techniques contre la corruption des cadavres à la fin du moyen âge,” Micrologus 7 (1999): 368–69. 91 Clarke, “Between Avignon and Rome,” 469.

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Pierre Ameil k 211 This mortuary care corresponds with behaviors known to have taken place at the end of the thirteenth century. It can be assumed that since Boniface VIII’s bull Detestande feritatis – also known as “de Sepulturis,” issued on September 27, 1299 – prevented the cutting or portioning of the body to preserve it, embalming was supposed to maintain the integrity of the body for the funeral.92 Papal embalming did not follow Guy de Chauliac to the letter, nor the 1290’s pentitentiaries statutes, but approximated the methods. According to Ameil, preparation and dressing of the corpse took place in the secret or private chamber of the pope.93 As the penitentiaries recited the Office of the Dead, the seven penitential psalms, and other prayers contained in their books, brothers of the Bull (seal) Office or of the papal almshouse washed the pope’s body with warm scented water, “cum aqua calida cum bonis herbis,” and a barber shaved his head and beard.94 The brothers and an apothecary filled his anus, mouth, ears, and nose with cotton, oakum or myrrh, incense, or aloe if available, then they once again rubbed the body with a good white wine heated with smelling herbs, and with a good Garnache wine provided by a chamberlain or butler. The next step included stuffing the throat with herbs, spices, and cotton, his nostrils with muscade, rubbing the body vigorously, including the hands, and anointing it for one last time with a good balsam provided by the camerlengo.95 Once prepared, penitentiaries dressed the body with trousers (bracas), shirt (camisiam), hose (caligas) and a tunic (tunicam). They arranged the corpse “as if sitting” (quasi sedendo) and covered him in his red papal garments (sacris vestibus rubei coloris) that included first his white sandals (sandaliis albis), belt and cincture (cinctorio et subcinctorio), fanon (fano), stole (stola), short tunic (tunicella), maniple (manipulo), dalmatic (dalmatica), gloves (cirothecis), chasuble (planeta), and the pallium from the body of

92

In Detestande feritatis, Boniface denounced all those who wished to be disemboweled, boiled, and partitioned to be interred somewhere else than where they died. For those wishing reburial, Boniface favored a two-step approach. First, a local burial followed by a later exhumation and transport to the final resting place, once the body had decomposed. For these latter cases, we can assume that bodies were simply embalmed for the length of the viewing. For the most recent discussion of this bull, see Schmitz-Esser, Der Leichnam im Mittelalter, 251–53. 93 “Lavatur enim in camera secreta, et induitur sacris vestibus, prout est dictum.” Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 220. 94 “Barbitonsor radat sibi caput et barbam.” Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 218. 95 Apothecarius et dicti fratres de bulla obturent sibi bene omnia foramina cum bumbasio vel stupa, anum, os, aures, nares, cum myrra, thure, et aloe, si possit habere . . . lavetur etiam corpus cum bono vino albo et calefacto cum herbis odoriferis, et cum bona vernagia, que cubicularii vel buticularii pape debent dictis lavatoribus administrare . . .. Guttur vero impletur de aromatibus et speciebus cum bombasio, et etiam nares cum musqueto. Ultimo etiam totum corpus multum fricetur et ungatur cum balsamo bono, et etiam manus. Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 219. On the use of spices during embalming, see Rémi Corbineau, Marie-Pierre Ruas, Delphine Barbier-Pain, Gino Fornaciari, Hélène Dupont, and Rozenn Colleter, “Plants and Aromatics for Embalming in Late Middle Ages and Modern Period: A Synthesis of Written Sources and Archaeobotanical Data (France, Italy),” Vegetation History and Archaeobotany 27, no. 1 (2018): 51–164.

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212 l finding unity in liturgy St. Peter (pallio de corpore Petri sumpto).96 They folded the fanon on his head and around his shoulders as if he were going to officiate, and they put on his head his white biretta and miter without pearls or gold.97 Ameil underscores that three pins held the pallium at its crosses, as was customary, and the pope lay on a bier over a mattress covered with red silk and gold cloth, the pope’s head and feet resting on pillows covered with silk and gold.98 Ameil’s next rubric details how penitentiaries transported the body from the papal chamber to the chapel, preceded by subdeacons and cantors who sang the “Subvenite Sancti Dei,” and how the body was eventually buried, sometimes only temporarily until a subsequent reburial at the pope’s chosen final resting place.99 Ameil’s sequence owed a large part to its predecessor, the Penitentiary statutes. But, as Peter Clarke remarks, it also differed: Notably the funeral ceremonial of Pierre Ameil (1385–1390) added that minor penitentiaries had to read the office of the dead and seven penitential psalms from their book before the pope as he lay dying. Ameil admittedly affirmed their role in washing the pope’s body, but not in embalming it; he assigned this to papal bullatores and an apothecary instead . . .. Ameil also supplied more detail than our statute on the embalming and clothing of the body; once this had been done, the penitentiaries were to carry the funeral bed not into the middle of the palace, as our statute required, but first into the pope’s personal chamber to be visited by the cardinals one by one, and then into his chapel where the vigil was held. The minor penitentiaries retained their role in this, but Ameil added that half of them had to keep it till midnight and the other half till dawn, and they were to be rewarded for their efforts with a fine meal in the pope’s dining-room (tinellum).100

It is quite interesting to note how Ameil shifted the focus of the ceremony from the general to the personal. In a sense, he “sacralized” the pope’s remains by withdrawing the

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On the consecration of the pallium on the tomb of St. Peter or at the altar of St. Peter, see Sible de Blaauw, Cultus et decor: Liturgia e architettura nella Roma tardoantica e medievale: basilica Salvatoris, Sanctae Mariae, Sancti Petri (Città del Vaticano: Biblioteca apostolica vaticana, 1994), 2: 710–12; and Steven A. Schoenig, Bonds of Wool: The Pallium and Papal Power in the Middle Ages (Washington, DC: The Catholic University of America Press, 2016). 97 “Et plicent fanum super caput, et circa scapulas circumdent, ac si deberet celebrare, et ponant in capite eius biretam albam cum mitra alba sine perlus et sine auro.” Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 219. 98 Ipso vero sic parato, dicti penitentiarii ponant eum super feretrum novum vel lectica, in quo debet esse bonum matalacium coopertum de serico rubeo cum una pulcra vona seu coopertorio etiam de serico rubeo, et desuper debent esse duo panni de auro se tenentes . . .. Item subtus caput eius sit pulvinar coopertum de panno aureo. Et post pedes eius in eodem feretro aliud pulvinar consimile cum floxis de serico et cordonibus de auro super quod debent stare duo capelli seu pilei pape. Pulvinaria debent esse latitudinis feretro. Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 219–20. “Sciendum quod lectica debet poni in camera pape ubi corpus positum est post lotionem. Lavatur enim in camera secreta, et induitur sacris vestibus, prout est dictum. Sed notandum quod antequam lavetur et induatur, domini cardinales unus post alium, vel omnes simul, debent eum visitare, et quilibet absolvit eum prout veniunt, et statim recedunt.” Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 220. 100 Clarke, “Between Avignon and Rome,” 471. 99

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Pierre Ameil k 213 intimate task of embalming from an educated curial group, the penitentiaries, to illiterate and secretive bullatores, and perhaps almoners, who did not reside in the palace.101 The task became more isolated and hidden, overseen by a specialist (the apothecary), and attached not so much to the institutional location as much as to the personal quarters of the dead man. This isolation finds an echo in Ameil’s papal vigils, which seem formulated more as a private guard. Why separate the penitentiaries into two groups and “relay” the vigil if not for efficiently protecting the papal body? Why reward them with a “splendid” meal for the hard task?102 Ameil resisted what Agostino Paravicini Bagliani labels papal humiliation. Ameil did not emphasize the rhetoric of nudity, which, according to Paravicini Bagliani, reminded Church officers that “at death, the pope ‘returns to being a man.’”103 For Ameil, it is in his private chamber that the embalmed pope retained his human and institutional character, and this is how cardinals one by one, alone, met him, face-to-face. Ameil, by creating this “private” meeting, forced cardinals to witness the awesomeness of this dead man, to make them realize that indeed they could not replace him. Even in death, the pope performed papacy. For the late medieval author, the dead pope stood during the novena as a liminal representation, not alive but also not really dead. The concept was not original. Christianity remains familiar with a “theology” of the liminal, dead/living body, exemplified by Jesus and also Mary, without speaking of various miraculous resurrections. Ameil conceived the pope’s death as a slow transition between life and memory, the long succession of those who had upheld Petrine authority. Embalmed, the pope more closely approximated a ritualized totem, a venerable relic, than a corpse. When discussing the bodies of the recent Pope John XXIII (who died in 1963) and Sainte Bernadette (who died in 1870), Dominic Olariu underscores the thanatopraxic manipulations that rendered their bodies somewhat exceptionally liminal. He states, Then, an ambiguous feeling takes hold of the spectator. The appearance of the corpse of John XXIII seems to balance between a natural state of human origin and an unreal condition caused by the artificial treatment. It almost reminds the onlooker of the verses of Arnoul Gréban [c. 1450 author of a mystery play] describing Christ: “perfect portrait . . . extremely benign stature, sacred face, a shining visage face realistically portrayed.104

Embalming obviously changes the perception of a cadaver. As we will see later, wax was quite often employed to keep certain parts of the body like the face, hands, and feet looking “fresh.” For Olariu, resemblance between the dead and living was a symbol of dignity. Discussing the embalmed bodies of the medieval kings of England, He adds further,

101

Regarding the bullatores, see Joëlle Rollo-Koster, Avignon and Its Papacy, 1309–1417: Popes, Institutions, and Society (Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield, 2015), 166. 102 “Hac die dicti penitentiarii debent comedere in tinello pape splendide propter labores et vigilias quas substinuerunt. Nam in ilia nocte debent vigilare ante funus sive in camera pape, sive in capella, medietas ipsorum penitentiariorum usque ad mediam noctem, et alia medietas usque ad diem, semper orando pro eo.” Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 220. 103 Paravicini Bagliani, The Pope’s Body, 231. 104 Olariu, La genèse de la représentation ressemblante de l’homme, 168.

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214 l finding unity in liturgy Thus this is the reason for this “vast brilliance of glory” (ampliori splendore decoris) of the dead body of Henry III, witnessed by all the assistants of his funeral: the supernatural character emanating from his immobility and freshness of the physiognomy, that we have been able to verify about John XXIII and Saint Bernadette, results from the treatment of his face with the same diaphanous cover in wax as that of Edward I.105

This pretense of life in death becomes essential when an individual represented both the physical and institutional, when a man, even dead, needs to perform authority to safeguard institutions. When Agostino Paravicini Bagliani asks why the Church created papal funerary rituals, he responds by distinguishing the personal from the institutional: “the history of the pope’s death has in fact appeared to be sustained by a common element: the conscious will to distinguish between the pope’s physical person and the pontifical office.”106 Paravicini Bagliani’s rationalization of the pontifical funerary rites proceeds from a certain representation of the pope’s humanity deployed in the funeral, with an abrupt break to reassert the institution’s survival. This “problem of the papal humanity” explains why sometimes the body of the dead pope was humiliated, left unattended or stripped of his clothes. However, embalmed, Ameil’s pope took on a unique identity that transcended both the purely human and institutional.107

The Dead Pope Objectified and Institutionalized

I

n order for us to appreciate fully the rich signification of the dead pope’s remains, and reconstruct Ameil’s perception, we must attend to certain aspects of medieval culture. In her discussion of dismemberment and dissection in the late Middle Ages, Katharine Park highlights the diverging customs of Europe, north and south: northern Europeans seemed to have employed the “German custom” (mos teutonicus) of decapitating, eviscerating, cutting and partitioning corpses for conservation, with burial in numerous locations.108 Adding to the conclusions of Paravicini Bagliani, Park also notes that such northern customs of dismemberment were absent from Italy, despite the somewhat ironic fact that Italians were the first to practice dissection. Yet Park is frankly skeptical of Paravicini Bagliani’s identification of a “special Mediterranean investment in the integrity of the corpse,” noting that Spanish princes were also dismembered for burial during the thirteenth century.109 This leads her to question both the Italian resistance to bodily division and the

105

Olariu, La genèse de la représentation ressemblante de l’homme, 172. Paravicini Bagliani, The Pope’s Body, 161. 107 Paravicini Bagliani, The Pope’s Body, 154, conceived the term super persona in his discussion of pillaging during the sede vacante. For him, the term means that the pope was no longer what he used to be. At his election, the pope abandoned the “former man,” his former self. 108 Katharine Park, “The Life of the Corpse: Division and Dissection in Late Medieval Europe,” Journal of the History of Medicine and Allied Sciences 50, no. 1 (1995): 111–32. Recently, SchmitzEsser, Der Leichnam im Mittelalter, 233–65, discusses this practice at length. 109 Park also asserts that “from a purely technical point of view, the Italian medical practices of postmortem (examining the entrails of a dead body to determine cause of death in an individual case) and dissection (opening and eventually dismembering a corpse as part of an anatomical demonstration) closely resembled the funerary practices of embalming and division.” Park, “The Life of the Corpse,” 113–14. 106

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The Dead Pope Objectified and Institutionalized k 215 northern European abhorrence of dissection. She concludes that “while Italians envisaged physical death as a quick and radical separation of body and soul, northern Europeans saw it as an extended and gradual process, corresponding to the slow decomposition of the corpse and its reduction to the skeleton and hard tissues, which was thought to last about a year.”110 What Park’s theory brings to the present discussion is the idea that Italian culture “identified the person or self less with the body than with the spirit – the soul, in Christian theological terms.”111 Her rationale clarifies, to a large extent, how late medieval folk saw the exposed body of the dead pope and how they understood the symbolic coding within which the corpse was inscribed. She suggests how mere bodily remains could, in the unique case of a dead pope, represent an institution. In an important passage, she states, In this Italian mental universe, death corresponded not to the gradual decomposition of the corpse but to the instant of separation of body and soul. In that instant, the corpse became insensitive and inanimate, a not-self. This is not to say that it lost all importance, but merely that it suddenly changed its status from subject to object. No longer a person, it became a memento that recalled or represented the person by virtue of long and intimate association . . .. While Italians treated the body as an object of memory and commemoration, centering therefore on the appearance of the intact or living person, northerners focused on the gradually fading personhood and vitality of the corpse itself, as expressed in the process of physical decay.112

At this cognitive level, treating a body as an “object of memory” facilitated the association of body with object, and for our purpose, allowed it to continue “performing.” It is this assimilation that has been well researched in the cult of saints, for example. Reviewing the latter historiography, Guy Marchal highlights medieval audiences’ sense of their physical reality, their “real presence,” to use Peter Dinzelbacher’s terminology.113 As Marchal states, “The saint was concretely present in the relics,” adding “the material apparition of the saint was visible and emotionally palpable. The saint was personified through the anthropomorphic reliquary . . . the visualization of the saint was reached more rapidly in the image.”114 To keep with the theme of the present volume, the saint performed “sainthood.” But more importantly for the present matter, Marchal explains how in the Middle Ages the act of looking at something created a physical rapport between observer and object, “as if matter or energy flew from one to the other.”115

110 111 112 113

114 115

Park, “The Life of the Corpse,” 114–15. Park, “The Life of the Corpse,” 119. Park, “The Life of the Corpse,” 119. Guy P. Marchal and Véronique Rivière, “Jalons pour une histoire de l’iconoclasme au moyen age,” Annales: Histoire, Sciences Sociales 50 (1995): 1135–56; and Peter Dinzelbacher, “Die Realpräsenz der Heiligen in ihren Reliquiaren und Gräbern nach mittelalterlichen Quellen,” in Heiligenverehrung in Geschichte und Gegenwart, ed. Peter Dinzelbacher and Dieter R. Bauer (Ostfildern: Schwaben Verlag, 1990), 115–74. See also Erik Thunø, Image and Relic: Mediating the Sacred in Early Medieval Rome (Rome: L’Erma di Bretschneider, 2002). Marchal and Rivière, “Jalons pour une histoire de l’iconoclasme,” 1139. Marchal and Rivière, “Jalons pour une histoire de l’iconoclasme,” 1140. As Marchal and Rivière argue, with the 1215 official recognition of transubstantiation, “The ecclesiastical doctrine of the

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216 l finding unity in liturgy Dominic Olariu has recently linked the development of lifelike portraiture to scholars’ understanding of unity between body and soul, especially by St. Thomas Aquinas, and “Perhaps the greater importance attributed to the human body in 13th century society manifested most clearly with the introduction of long-term embalmment.”116 We see here a clear relation between scholars’ valorization of the body and the development of lifelike representations in art of the living and of death.117 But for Olariu one of the most important aspects of this representation is found in its “mimetic reproduction: a reference to sacredness and dignity.”118 Resemblance between the living visage and the death mask expressed the special moral qualities of the individual and his relationship with God. Understood within this conceptual framework, for Ameil the pope’s body became an image of the ecclesial spirit, an objectification of the Church. The same movement of reciprocity that linked observer and image also allowed the liturgist to offer an institutional vision of the pope. Onlookers still gazed at the personification of the institution when they looked at the body of the dead pope – the body still performed its institutional role. Ameil wanted his audience of curial servants, cardinals, camerlengo, and eventually the public that witnessed the exposition of the body, to see an institutional sacred image. During his funeral rites, the pope, man, and institution maintained dignitas. Ameil understood that the pope was the essence of the institution. In fact, Ameil’s views may not have been isolated. Many found extraordinary virtues in the body of a pope. Thomas Petra, a witness of the 1378 papal election describes the excitement in Rome at the death of Pope Gregory, the first in Rome in many decades. Crowds flocked to the city to offer their devotion during the novena, and also because miracles were occurring in the presence of the body (corpus) of the pope.119 In contrast, ceremonials tended to eclipse the pope’s “saintly” body, burying him early in the novena. Papal liturgists were the linchpin of papal representation and performance. As we have seen previously, the embalming of the pope’s body was central to Ameil. The method largely meant filling cavities with “aromatic plants and spices” and “good balsam” and rubbing it with “good wine.” The English verb, “to embalm,” does not suggest the rich associations that the French embaumer still conveys: both the mortuary significance of embalming and the pleasure of sweet fragrance. The “sweet” smell of putrefaction was in fact the perfume of the spices concealing the acrid

116

117

118 119

Eucharist . . . authenticated and intensified the perception of the cult’s image. If God was present and visible in a pithy chunk of bread, how much more was the saint in the image.” The process was reinforced during pious contemplation, when looking at sacred images became a real visual encounter with the saint, what R. W. Scribner has labeled “sacramental contemplation” or “sacramental gaze.” See Robert W. Scribner, “Das Visuelle in der Volksfrömmigkeit,” in Bilder und Bildersturm im Spätmittelalter und un der frühen Neuzeit, ed. Robert W. Scribner (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 1990), 9–20. Dominic Olariu, “Thomas Aquinas’ Definition of the Imago Dei and the Development of Lifelike Portraiture,” Bulletin du centre d’études médiévales d’Auxerre (BUCEMA) 17 (2013): 9. See further Dominic Olariu, ed., Le portrait individuel: Réflexions autour d’une forme de représentation XIIIe–XVe siècles (Bern: Peter Lang, 2009); En Face: Seven Essays on the Human Face (Marburg: Jonas, 2012); and La genèse de la représentation ressemblante de l’homme reconsidérations du portrait à partir du 13e siècle (Bern: Peter Lang, 2014). Olariu, La genèse de la représentation ressemblante de l’homme, 365. Michael Seidlmayer, Die Anfänge des grossen abendländischen Schismas: Studien zur Kirchenpolitik insbesondere der Spanischen Staaten (Münster in Westfalen: Aschendorff, 1940), 261.

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The Dead Pope Objectified and Institutionalized k 217 stench of death.120 Of course, rubbing the corpse with herbs and filling the body with balsam were familiar customs from the ancient world, and important to the Christian story.121 With the general development of the papal office, anointing eventually solemnized the care of the pope’s body. Embalming the pope, head on earth of the Body of Christ (the Church), reflected his physical and institutional duality. It suggested the promise of his continuing postmortem identity in eternal life, its continued performance.122 Pierre Ameil was the first author to describe precisely the composition and use of the pope’s mortuary balm. While there can be no doubt that the corpses of other distinguished leaders were also preserved, the luxurious quality of the products utilized for the pope is of the utmost importance. The use of musk, myrrh, and incense, redolent of the Church’s worship rituals, added a sacramental note to this special anointing, exalting this corpse beyond all others. Embalmed and fragrant, the papal corpse took on additionally a waxen quality that transfigured the human into a highly symbolic object: the physical/objectified image of the Church. Ameil does not describe the utilization of wax on the pope’s body. Still, Dominic Olariu’s La genèse de la représentation ressemblante de l’homme demonstrates how widespread its use was during the funerals of high dignitaries.123 As previously discussed, even without the use of wax during embalming, the association of the dead with an image, an object, was facilitated by medieval theories of vision, and we could add by the medieval understanding of images.124 Hence, when people looked at an embalmed body, like that of the pope, they saw a “waxen” image. The association between wax and the human body has a long, eerie, and uncanny history going back centuries, well before Madame Tussaud’s museum. The use of wax and waxen images is found in votive offerings and in funerary rites from antiquity until modern times Georges, “Mourir c’est pourrir un peu,” 378–79, pushes the argument further by suggesting that the smell of putrefaction pointed to heaven; not in fact dying, but rotting, yet in “odor of sanctity.” He insists, this even though embalming attempted to slow down and postpone the natural process of postmortem decay. 121 The central messianic title of Jesus, Christ, in its Greek root denotes the ritual of anointing. The anointing of Jesus by Mary Magdalene is found in the four Gospels (Matthew 26:6–13; Mark 14:3–9; Luke 7:36–50; and John 12:1–8). Matthew quotes Jesus saying, “When she poured this perfume on my body, she did it to prepare me for burial.” It is not surprising that since anointing was approved and warranted by sacred Scripture, the first Christians would imitate rituals that Jesus and his followers had performed. Anointing, perfuming, and incense played a definite role in Christian liturgy. See also Elly R. Truitt, “The Virtues of Balm in Late Medieval Literature,” Early Science and Medicine 14 (2009), 730–36, for a discussion of the meaning of balsam in Christianity. 122 For a discussion of embalming and life-after-death, see, Rollo-Koster, Communicating Unity during the Great Western Schism,” 113–29, most specifically at 121–22. Hildegard found balm’s qualities in its nature: “Not only does balsam restore a body’s heat and moisture, but it is also a vital sap, a ‘humor’ in the broader sense of the term.” Balm with heat and moisture counteracted the effect of death and decay, understood since the time of Aristotle as “internal coldness and external heat.” See Truitt, “The Virtues of Balm,” 728. 123 Olariu, La genèse de la représentation ressemblante de l’homme, 81–280. 124 An image in a medieval context was a statuette. As Philippe Walter further argues, “Imago designates the image and then a representation, a portrait, a ghost (in poetic language), an appearance (in opposition to reality).” Philippe Walter, “De l’image à l’imaginaire medieval,” Medievalista (2013): doi.org/10.4000/medievalista.539. 120

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218 l finding unity in liturgy in some places.125 Visitors to Italian churches will have noticed the many “incorruptible” bodies, usually encased in wax, that adorn scores of chapels, a testament to the vitality of the practice.126 Some of the earliest evidence of the Christian use of wax appears in archaeological remains. Discussing findings at the archaeological site of Cuma, T. J. Pettigrew surmises that in order to bury complete bodies, early Christians interred their martyrs with wax “finishing” to simulate their decapitated heads.127 This shows how easily the Roman funeral practice of using wax masks translated into the growing Christian world. During the Middle Ages, the corpses of the nobility were wrapped in translucent waxed cloth (tela cerata), while the exposed faces were covered with a thin layer of painted wax.128 A waxed cloth must have adhered to the corpse, offering an uncanny vision, a corpse close to the rigidity of a statue.129 For example, in 1385, when Joan of Kent, mother of Richard II died, her body was wrapped in “waxed linen cloths”; and in 1422, Henry V’s body was “steeped in aromatic herbs and balsam, enveloped in waxed linen.”130 The practice, however, may not 125

See Roberta Panzanelli and Julius von Schlosser, Ephemeral Bodies: Wax Sculpture and the Human Figure (Los Angeles: Getty Research Institute, 2008), 184. See also Roberta Ballestriero, “The Dead in Wax: Funeral Ceroplastics in the European 17th–18th Century Tradition,” Proceedings of the Art of Death and Dying Symposium 1 (2012), available online at https://journals.tdl.org/add/index.php/add/article/view/ 7031; Philippe Ariès, Images of Man and Death (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1985); Geraldine A. Johnson, “Activating the Effigy: Donatello’s Pecci Tomb in Siena Cathedral,” The Art Bulletin 77, no. 3 (1995): 445–59; Meredith J. Gill, “Death and the Cardinal: The Two Bodies of Guillaume d’Estouteville,” Renaissance Quarterly 54 (2001): 347–88; Joan A. Holladay, “Tombs and Memory: Some Recent Books,” Speculum 78, no. 2 (2003): 440–50; Jane Eade, “The Theatre of Death,” Oxford Art Journal 36, no. 1 (2013): 109–25; and Regina Deckers, “La Scandalosa in Naples: A Veristic Waxwork as Memento Mori and Ethical Challenge,” Oxford Art Journal 36, no. 1 (2013): 75–91. 126 See, for example, www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3146906/Haunting-images-beautifully-pre served-saints-remains-displayed-faithful-worship-Italy.html (accessed on February 23, 2021). Massimiliano Ghilardi, “Le simulacre du martyre: Fabrication, diffusion et dévotion des corps saints en céroplastie,” Archives de sciences sociales des religions 183 (2018): 167–87, offers a fascinating study of the early years of ceroplastic practices. His article includes a detailed bibliography. 127 T. J. Pettigrew, “On the Antiquities of Cuma,” The Journal of the British Archeological Association 14 (1858): 293–305. 128 Giordana Charuty, “Le vœu de vivre: Corps morcelés, corps sans âme dans les pèlerinages portugais,” Terrain: Anthropologie et sciences humaines 18 (1992): 46–60. Other examples are found in Francisque Michel, Recherches sur le commerce, la fabrication et l’usage des étoffes de soie, d’or et d’argent et autres tissus précieux en occident, principalement en France pendant le moyen âge (Paris: De l’Imprimerie de Crapelet, 1854), 118; Nadia Pollini, La mort du prince: Rituels funéraires de la Maison de Savoie (1343–1451) (Lausanne: Section d’histoire – Faculté des lettres/Université de Lausanne, 1994), 43; Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, Les pays romands au Moyen Âge (Lausanne: Payot Lausanne, 1997), 428; Jean Marie Cauchies, À la cour de Bourgogne: Le duc, son entourage, son train (Turnhout: Brepols, 1998), 42; NA, “Origins and Progress of Museums,” The Farrier and Naturalist 1 (1828), 328; Andrea Morgan, “Absent Material: Waxed, Wooden, and Ivory Writing Tablets in the Medieval and Modern Periods,” in Imagining the Self, Constructing the Past: Selected Proceedings from the 36th Annual Medieval and Renaissance Forum, ed. Robert G. Sullivan and Meriem Pagès (Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars, 2016), 170–72. 129 Again, Olariu, La genèse de la représentation ressemblante de l’homme, 81–280, discusses at length the use of wax in funerary practice and links the practice to the birth of portraiture. 130 For Joan, see Thomas Walsingham, The Chronica Maiora of Thomas Walsingham, 1376–1422, introd. and notes James G. Clark, trans. David Preest (Woodbridge: Boydell & Brewer, 2009), 228; and for Henry, Antonia Gransden, Historical Writing in England II: C. 1307 to the Early 16th Century (London: Routledge, 1982), 217.

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The Dead Pope Objectified and Institutionalized k 219 have been that uncommon if we rely on the frequently used term “cire” or “cering” cloth for the wax covered shrouds that were intended to slow down decay and prevent the leakage of bodily fluids.131 The long history of setting up wax effigies to symbolize the abiding presence of the revered dead among the living, a practice freighted with religious and political associations, cannot have been too far from the minds of the authors of the papal rituals.132 What Roberta Panzanelli calls “The incestuous bond between wax and death” may have worked to the advantage of liturgists who felt threatened, even symbolically, by the growing powers of the College of Cardinals.133 Kristin Keating, in her recent dissertation, “The Performative Corpse: Anatomy Theatres from the Medieval Era to the Virtual Age,” aptly describes the close relationship between death and performance. She states: It is important to note precisely how interrelated the instincts towards preservation and performance are here. Although embalming and preservation of a dead body is often a private matter, when it is employed for important figures . . . it almost always became a public one – implicated in a process that prepares the body to perform for the masses “how it is” with the holy corpse, imbuing it with a distinctly theatricalized, self-conscious aura that shaped the body as it shaped the beliefs of the populace.134

Wax instrumentalized that performance. Wax was omnipresent in the Middle Ages, literally and symbolically. It was widely used at the papal court, which even kept an officer who was in charge of the wax.135 It bound medicinal salves, shaped liturgical objects such as the agnus dei, lit ceremonies, and protected windows in tela cerata, among other uses.136

See the entry in the Oxford English Dictionary for the verb “cere”: “To smear or cover with wax, to wax; To wrap in a cerecloth; To anoint with spices, etc.; also (apparently) to embalm (obsolete); shut up (a corpse in a coffin); to seal up (in lead, or the like). The noun “cering” refers to “Waxing, covering with wax.” “cering, n,” OED Online, www.oed.com.uri.idm.oclc.org/view/Entry/29934? rskey=2kviGN&result=2&isAdvanced=false (accessed on July 5, 2018). See also Juhani Norri, Dictionary of Medical Vocabulary in English, 1375–1550: Body Parts, Sicknesses, Instruments, and Medicinal Preparations (Abingdon: Routledge, 2016), 211. 132 See Panzanelli and von Schlosser, Ephemeral Bodies, for an updated historiography. Julius von Schlosser highlights in his discussion of wax portraiture, “What stands at the forefront of the development is the portrait of the dead person, in its function of preserving the individual intact beyond the point of physical death; the magic of the portrait works . . . through the closest possible resemblance to life.” Panzanelli and von Schlosser, Ephemeral Bodies, 184. 133 Roberta Panzanelli, “Introduction: The Body in Wax, The Body of Wax,” in Ephemeral Bodies: Wax Sculpture and the Human Figure, ed. Roberta Panzanelli (Los Angeles: Getty Research Institute, 2008), 12. 134 Kristin Keating, “The Performative Corpse: Anatomy Theatres from the Medieval Era to the Virtual Age,” PhD dissertation, UC Irvine, 2014, 27. 135 On the master of the wax and wax utilization during the schism, see Philippe Genequand, Une politique pontificale en temps de crise: Clément VII d’Avignon et les premières années du grand Schisme d’Occident (1378–1394) (Basel: Schwabe Verlag, 2013), 92, 104, 124, 204, 208, 312. 136 A review of “cere” in K. H. Schäfer’s two volumes on the expenses of the Apostolic Chamber for the Avignon popes shows a multitude of results. See Karl-Heinrich Schäfer, Die Ausgaben der apostolischen Kammer unter Benedikt XII, Klemens VI und Innocenz VI (Paderborn: Ferdinand Schöningh, 1914); and Die Ausgaben der apostolischen Kammer unter den Päpsten Urban V und Gregor XI (Paderborn: Ferdinand Schöningh, 1937). 131

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220 l finding unity in liturgy Wax was a means of ritual gift exchange. According to the chronicler Ulrich Richenthal, when at the Council of Constance Emperor Sigismund dubbed several Hungarian knights, they, in return offered him “eggs, chickens, peacocks, wax and pepper in such abundance, that the emperor had to give it away . . .. It must have hurt the emperor to part with the precious wax.”137 In addition to this literal usage, however, wax was also a means of symbolic communication and played a role in “salvific dramas,” especially with regard to its use in ex-votos.138 An uninterrupted link joined human, object, and deities. Wax body parts adorned chapels in numerous European churches and testified to this assimilation of the body and its “copy.”139 One can still see their representation in a wonderful stained-glass window at the Shrine of St. William, York Minster with a head, a leg, a hand, and a heart dangling from metal rods while a devotee offers his foot to the shrine. Whether in the form of the Italian boti (wax molding of body parts offered as ex-votos), or part of the “votive imagery,” wax communicated the liminal, between humans and objects, between life and death, between the mundane and the holy. Wax was understood in terms of “flesh.” Wax “models” were conspicuous in the Middle Ages and early modern periods, and often ended up replacing effigies, especially in Italy.140 For example, in the

Karl Küp, “Ulrich von Richenthal’s Chronicle of the Council of Constance,” Bulletin of The New York Public Library 40 (1936): 18. 138 As Ittai Weinryb remarks, ex-votos connected devotee and objects and “reinforced relations between humans and deities.” Ittai Weinryb, “Introduction: Ex-Voto as Material Culture,” in Ex Voto: Votive Giving across Cultures, ed. Ittai Weinryb (New York: New York City Bard Graduate Center, 2016), 9. 139 For examples of the longevity of the use of wax ex-votos, see Madeline H. Caviness, Visualizing Women in the Middle Ages: Sight, Spectacle, and Scopic Economy (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2001), 138–39, 201. Women’s softness could also be associated with wax. Discussing rapture in the context of Beguines, a document describing Christina Mirabilis’s trance reads, “limbs were gathered together into a ball as if they were hot wax and all that one could perceive of her was a round mass.” Walter Simons, “Reading a Saint’s Body: Rapture and Bodily Movement in the Vitae of Thirteenth-Century Beguines,” in Framing Medieval Bodies, ed. Sarah Kay and Miri Rubin (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1997), 18. 140 See Georges Didi-Huberman and Gerald Moore, “Ex-Voto: Image, Organ, Time,” L’Esprit Créateur 47 (2007): 7–16; Megan Holmes, “Ex-votos: Materiality, Memory, and Cult,” in The Idol in the Age of Art: Objects, Devotions and the Early Modern World, ed. Michael W. Cole and Rebecca Zorach (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2009), 159–81; Hanneke Grootenboer, “Introduction: On the Substance of Wax,” Oxford Art Journal 36 (2013): 1–12. Grootenboer states (6–7): 137

A most illuminating and intriguing example of the wax object’s unsteady position between endurance and dissolution is the enormous collection of ex-votos, or boti as they were called, in the church of the Santissima Annunziata in Florence. During the Renaissance, waxen hands, legs, arms, heads, and often entire figures were commissioned so that they could be offered to a particular saint by worshippers seeking relief from illness, or wishing to give thanks for healing. As the saint was being thanked for the wholeness of the body restored to health, the greatest degree of verisimilitude was desired, and wax was the medium with the closest possible approximation to human skin and flesh. Thanks was thus given, not symbolically, but by the presentation of a genuine and complete substitute. In the Santissima Annunziata, among other churches, such ex-votos were first placed alongside the saints’ shrines, but later, due to lack of space, arms and legs were suspended from the ceiling beams.

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The Dead Pope Objectified and Institutionalized k 221 fifteenth century, the Medici abandoned effigies and instead used dressed wax ex-votos to represent them in Santissima Annunziata.141 The mass production of molds for wax exvotos provides evidence of their ubiquity.142 Given this, it is highly possible that gazing at a dead body in the Middle Ages brought forth images of these wax ex-votos present in so many European churches. Dominic Olariu argues that little separated a dead body from its effigy, statue, or gisant. He states, In the West, the passage from embalmed corpse to a sculpture imitating the corpse is a mirror game, one evoking the other, and should be considered in the general context of “representations” at funerals. The [embalmed] corpse holds a median status, since it can evoke a living body, although it is a dead one, for example by being seated or made up. It can also evoke a doll or a statue in its exposed rigidity. In this sense, the embalmed body extolls ambiguity, inseparable from itself, arising from the question of what exactly it represents.143

In the end, this discussion of the liturgies of the papal funeral leads us back to the role ritual played in medieval political transitions and the performance of unity. As noted above by Keating, and as argued in several other studies, death was constructed and performed.144 In his pioneering work on political theology, The King’s Two Bodies, Ernst Kantorowicz highlighted first the reality of the two bodies of the king: the body natural and the body politic. In a section entitled “Dignitas non moritur,” Kantorowicz discerned the complex symbolic meanings behind the wax effigies prominently displayed in the funerals of late medieval kings. Kantorowicz demonstrated how the monarchy constructed the perennity of the royal institution even as it hid, at least somewhat, the natural body of the dead king, and replaced it with its effigy. Kantorowicz cited as earliest evidence the effigy used for Edward II’s funeral in 1327. Constructed mostly of wood or leather, and in some places wax, the effigies resembled the dead king dressed in his coronation garments. Effigies displayed the insignia of sovereignty in the form of the crown, and artificial hands holding orb and scepter: “Enclosed in the coffin of lead which itself was encased in a casket of wood, there rested the corpse of the king, his mortal and normally visible – though now invisible – body

141

Gabrielle Langdon, Medici Women: Portraits of Power, Love, and Betrayal in the Court of Duke Cosimo I (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2013), 105. 142 Holmes, “Ex-votos,” 161. 143 Olariu, La genèse de la représentation ressemblante de l’homme, 370. 144 Ernst Kantorowicz, Laudes Regiae: A Study in Liturgical Acclamations and Mediaeval Ruler Worship (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1946); and The King’s Two Bodies; Ralph A. Giesey, The Royal Funeral Ceremony in Renaissance France (Geneva: Droz, 1960); Colin Morris, The Papal Monarchy: The Western Church from 1050 to 1250 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1991); Richard A. Jackson, Vive le Roi! A History of the French Coronation Ceremony from Charles V to Charles X (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina, 1984); Sergio Bertelli, The King’s Body: Sacred Rituals of Power in Medieval and Early Modern Europe, trans. R. Burr Litchfield (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2001).

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222 l finding unity in liturgy natural; whereas his normally invisible body politic was on this occasion visibly displayed by the effigy in its pompous regalia; a persona ficta – the effigy – impersonating a persona ficta – the dignitas.”145 Kantorowicz traced the custom from England to France after the successive deaths in 1422 of Kings Henry V of England and Charles VI of France. Here it is interesting to note that he identified the duke of Bedford, in his function of regent of both the British and French crowns, as pivotal in the introduction of funerary effigies to France. After that date, Kantorowicz followed an evolving ritual: the French made monarchical dignitas visible through ritual and pageant well into the sixteenth century. In Kantorowicz’s opinion, the essential element was that while the king was alive, his two bodies (natural and institutional, or what contemporaries labeled the royal “dignity” and “majesty”) were united. Whereas at his death, they were separated. In the rituals of the royal funeral, a sharp separation needed to be drawn between the king’s bodies, because the institution could endanger its own survival with the death of the physical king: “For that new concept of triumph [over death] did not mean to anticipate the king’s future conregnatio with Christ in heaven, but to celebrate and display the dead king’s conregnatio with the immortal-royal dignitas on earth of which the substance had passed on to the successor, but which still was visibly represented by the effigy of the deceased ruler.”146 It is notable that the historiography shies away from examining the very common and accepted aristocratic mos teutonicus alongside the duality of a king’s body. Both separated bodies: shell and vital parts, body and institution. Effigies often stood in for bodies that had been eviscerated or excarnated.147 The mos teutonicus is usually contextualized within analyses of the history of dissection and not within the symbolic construction of the double nature of kingship. Tracing its history, Sergio Bertelli reviews its multiple uses and

145

Kantorowicz, The King’s Two Bodies, 421. It is of note that in her latest review of the work, Elizabeth Brown offers this assessment: “Appealing as Kantorowicz’s and Giesey’s ideas have proved to be, it is not clear to me how relevant their theories are to the thinking of those who displayed and observed royal effigies and royal tombs from the XIVth century onwards.” She continues, offering counterevidence that both Kantorowicz and Giesey omitted from authors who attested that “the image’s [effigy’s] proper function was to remind observers of the king who had died and lead them to revere his memory.” Thus, some contemporary authors were upset that the effigy and not the king’s body received the honors as, at the same time, effigies became a funerary fashion employed by many people who did not hold royal dignitas. Brown, “The French Royal Funeral Ceremony,” 119, 122, 132. 146 Kantorowicz, The King’s Two Bodies, 424. 147 Named after a custom practiced by German knights during the crusades, excarnation facilitated the transport of dead crusaders back to their homeland. In warm climates, where bodies could decompose quickly, excarnation allowed the time necessary for a distant burial. If the body was not fully excarnated, heart and viscera were separated from the flesh and buried in one location, usually closer to where the death occurred, while the remaining bones traveled to the chosen location of burial. This double burial was practiced by the European aristocracy to such an extent that it led Boniface VIII to intervene and condemn it as a “horrible custom.” For a discussions and examples, see, Elizabeth A. R. Brown, “Death and the Human Body in the Late Middle Ages: The Legislation of Boniface VIII on the Division of the Corpse,” Viator 12 (1981): 221–70; Park, “The Life of the Corpse,” 111–32; Jennifer Woodward, The Theatre of Death: The Ritual Management of Royal Funerals in Renaissance England, 1570–1625 (Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 1997), 66; Bertelli, The King’s Body, 31–34.

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The Dead Pope Objectified and Institutionalized k 223 meanings.148 Bertelli argues that the distribution of body parts “facilitated diffusion of sovereignty.”149 Here, the body was literally divided to spread and reinforce authority. In a chapter entitled “Shrouded in Ambiguity: Decay and Incorruptibility of the Body,” Danielle Westerhof argues to the contrary, that “rather than enforcing decay and fragmentation, these practices were partly geared towards creating a fantasy of wholeness and incorruptibility suggestive of saintly corporeal preservation found in hagiography, which served to underscore these ideas of nobility and social status.”150 But perhaps mos teutonicos and effigies reinforced the connection between “multiple” burials and the metaphoric construction of the double nature of the king’s body. Buried viscera was equated with physical transience, while the skin’s envelope – what the effigy performed and symbolized – was the permanent reality of who the king was, his semblance, his institutional continuity. One of the most pertinent examples of an eviscerated king’s body is that of Henry V, whose funeral plays a key part in Kantorowicz’s demonstration. While Kantorowicz cites it as the earliest utilization of funeral effigies in regalia, it should be noted that “Henry’s body (the organs having been removed and buried in the church of Saint-Maur-des Fossés) was embalmed and put in a wooden coffin which was then placed in a larger one of lead.”151 Hence the effigy accompanied a double burial of one who claimed the crown of two kingdoms.152 Were effigies systematically employed with eviscerated bodies? Did the symbolic duality of an “integral” king carry less weight than an eviscerated one? The question remains open. All we know is that double burials were not necessarily reserved for royalty and aristocracy. The request of Cardinal Jean de La Grange in his 1402 testament to be buried in both Avignon and Amiens offers another contemporary example.153 148

The obvious sanitary concerns for the transport of a corpse; the desire not to be buried in foreign lands; the symbolic choice of whom to honor or dishonor with one’s body parts, accompanied by the “spatial distribution of the noblest parts of a sacred body;” the belief that the dead were not completely dead until the flesh had been separated from the body; and the multiplication of prayers for one’s soul with the multiplication of bodily remains. Bertelli, The King’s Body, 32. 149 Bertelli, The King’s Body, 34. 150 Westerhof, Death and the Noble Body, 75. It is somewhat puzzling that Westerhof ignores Bertelli’s study. 151 Christopher T. Allmand, Henry V (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1997), 174. 152 See Woodward, The Theatre of Death, 66. See also Antonia Gransden, Historical Writing in England, 2 vols. (London: Routledge, 1996), 2: 194–219, for Henry V’s biographical historiography. The route of the cortege that brought his body from France to England via St. Denis (symbol of the French monarchy), down the Seine to Mantes, Rouen, Abbeville, Calais, Dover, Canterbury, and Westminster also symbolized this double kingship. See Allmand, Henry V, 174–78; Friedrich Brie, The Brut: Or, the Chronicles of England (London: Kegan Paul, Trubner, 1908), 493–94; Jehan de Wavrin, Edward L. C. P. Hardy, and William Hardy, A Collection of the Chronicles and Ancient Histories of Great Britain, Now Called England (London: Printed for Her Majesty’s Stationery Office by Eyre and Spottiswoode, 1887), 387–91. 153 See the testament of the cardinal in Jean Juvénal des Ursins, Histoire de Charles VI roy de France et des choses mémorables advenues de son règne dès l’an MCCCLXXX jusques en l’an MCCCCXXII par . . .. Messire Jean Juvénal des Ursins . . . mise en lumière par Théodore Godefroy (Paris: A. Pacard, 1614), 754–64. In Müntz’s transcription, La Grange states, Volo . . . quod si contingat me decedere in Avinion. vel prope per unam dietam, quod corpus meum integrum portetur, etc., deponatur in ecclesia Collegii S. Martialis Avenionensis, et in eodem fiant exequiae solemnes . . . et factis exequiis dividatur sive paretur corpus meum, juxta concessionem apostolicam super hoc mihi factam et ossa portentur Ambian, secrete . . .

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224 l finding unity in liturgy Kantorowicz’s constitutional approach developed themes that had formerly been restricted to the domain of art history. In his 1911 history of wax portraiture, Julius von Schlosser first introduced the study of the usage of effigies in kings’ funerals. He states: From at the latest, the mid-fourteenth century onward, there existed an ostentatious, elaborate, and closely prescribed funerary ceremonial that remained in use at the royal courts of France and England until the end of the seventeenth century, and in Venice even longer, surviving the fall of the republic. The deceased is replaced by a waxen simulacrum, which both in the early reports and in the later, substantially repetitive depictions of the exequies of Saint-Denis is referred to by the technical term effigiye . . .. This dummy figure, its body often formed on a framework of woven osiers (éclisse d’osier), rather like that of present-day tailors’ dummies, was fitted with head and hands made of colored wax, in as exact a likeness as could be achieved, and clothed in the ceremonial garments . . .. The hands were interchangeable, either folded or arranged to accept the scepter of royalty or of justice. Reports on the funeral ceremony for Henri V indicate that the effigy not only served for display on the lying-in-state bed but was also (while sitting upright, enthroned?) borne through the streets of Paris in a solemn procession that continued over several days.154

Von Schlosser’s rationale does not reveal the conceptual sophistication of Kantorowicz’s thesis, but their subjects are quite different. Building on the work of both von Schlosser and Kantotowicz, Ralph Giesey explored the politicization of the usage of effigies by asking, “What relevance has this ritual for French constitutional thought?”155 He answered by suggesting that the ceremonial usage of effigies reconciled two traditions: an older medieval one that did not consider a king fully empowered before his coronation and a newer one that considered the king constitutionally empowered at his predecessor’s death. Ritual eased the contradiction by “situating the moment of transference of sovereignty neither at the death of the old king nor at the coronation of the new one, but midway between – that is, at the funeral and burial of the deceased.”156 residuum vero corporis remaneat in dicta ecclesia collegii Sancti Marcialis, in sepultura per me ibidem ordinata, cum repraesentatione aliquorum festorum B. Mariae.

154

155 156

Eugène Müntz, “Le mausolée du cardinal de Lagrange à Avignon,” L’ami des monuments et des arts 10 (1890): 7. On the cardinal and his testament, see Anne McGee Morganstern, “The La Grange Tomb and Choir: A Monument of the Great Schism of the West,” Speculum 48 (1973): 52–69; and “Quelques observations à propos de l’architecture du tombeau du cardinal Jean de La Grange,” Bulletin monumental 128 (1970): 195–209; Mailan S. Doquang, “Status and the Soul: Commemoration and Intercession in the Rayonnant Chapels of Northern France in the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Centuries,” Memory and Commemoration in Medieval Culture, ed. Elma Brenner, Meredith Cohen, and Mary Franklin-Brown (Farnham: Ashgate, 2013), 93–118. Westerhof, Death and the Noble Body in Medieval England, 75–95, offers numerous examples. Von Schlosser traces the practice to the wax images that accompanied funerals of Roman patricians. For him, naturalistic portraits aimed at erasing the finality of death and keeping the person “alive.” Translation by James Michael Loughridge of Julius von Schlosser’s History of Portraiture in Wax (Geschichte Der Porträtbildnerei in Wachs: Ein Versuch von Julius von Schlosser [Wien, 1911]) in Ephemeral Bodies: Wax Sculpture and the Human Figure, ed. Roberta Panzanelli (Los Angeles: Getty Research Institute, 2008), 205. Regarding Henry V funeral procession, The Brut, 493, mentions the “body enbawmed & cered.” Giesey, The Royal Funeral Ceremony in Renaissance France, i. Giesey, The Royal Funeral Ceremony in Renaissance France, i.

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The Dead Pope Objectified and Institutionalized k 225 Dominic Olariu has pursued this thread and brings these various theories to their logical conclusion. From its earliest literary definition, pourtraicture identified a physical mimetic reproduction (often linked to mortuary practices) while other aspects of the individual in question were also represented. These individuals were systematically outstanding members of society (popes, kings, princes). The idea was to reproduce the individual in his physical resemblance, whether in paint or thanatopraxic wax, and associate him to symbols of his social and genealogical status, his coat of arms, for example. Eventually, resemblance embodied notions of moral quality and of a special relationship with God. Olariu states, Speaking of senior ecclesiastics and aristocrats, in effect one can speak in a certain sense of a virtue specific to them: despite the sinful character of human flesh, the pope is the representative of Christ on earth, the cardinals his alternates (during the vacancy in particular), and the latter possess their own assessors. English and French kings claim, for their part, to a filiation from Christ and thus to a certain sacrality conferring them miraculous thaumaturgic powers . . .. This hierarchy of society is expressed particularly in the prioritization of embalming, and therefore, in the hierarchy of the right to a resembling reproduction. Since the first mimetic representations imitate the solemn exhibition of embalmed corpses, the link between the two is accentuated even more so.157

During the period of the Great Schism, innovations in the papal funeral liturgies both reflected and responded to the manifest risks involved in a crisis of ecclesial leadership. These new practices, developed originally from monarchical models, were instrumental in the management of institutional transfer of power. This difficult transition involved both the passage of a revered personage from life to death, as well as the advent of new leadership with the displacement of the old.158 To ensure that the two bodies of the Church present in the person of the pope were not sundered at his death, liturgists were careful to orchestrate public ceremonies that exposed the papal body. Indeed, the pope’s body was displayed in state; the public would see not only the man but also the institution still present in the man. Dominic Olariu’s demonstration is effective enough in showing how the embalmed body reflected its dignity with its resemblance to its living correlate. The papal corpse was both man and effigy, as Panzanelli reminds us: “Effigies . . . were meant to inspire ‘first devotion, then reverence and veneration’ for the great men represented there.”159 For Ameil, the institutional Church lived within the papal body, not within the College. Kantorowicz’s assertion about the duality of the king’s body cited above could very well be paraphrased and in fact reversed for the deceased pope. While Kantorowicz argues that the body of a king, enclosed in the casket, is represented by a “persona ficta – the effigy – impersonating a persona ficta – the dignitas,” the pope’s body 157 158

159

Olariu, La genèse de la représentation ressemblante de l’homme, 410. See Julian Gardner, The Tomb and the Tiara: Curial Tomb Sculpture in Rome and Avignon in the Later Middle Ages (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1992) for examples of French influence on Roman and Avignonese papal sculptures. The first tomb effigy to appear in Italy, following a French model, was the one of the French Pope Clement IV in 1270 Viterbo. Arnolfo di Cambio then built several tombs in Italy for French cardinals that contained stone effigies of the deceased. The style was so well-established that popes such as Boniface VIII initiated the construction of their tomb shortly after their elections. Panzanelli, “Introduction,” 15.

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226 l finding unity in liturgy enclosed in the casket is rather “a persona vera – the embalmed corpse – impersonating a persona ficta – the dignitas” (italics mine). In his discussion of how the papal corpse was vested for its exposition, Pierre Ameil linked the display of the papal body even more closely to the monarchical model. As royal effigies wore the trappings of coronation, the pope wore his officiating vestments. Even dead he still performed papacy. The pope was vested “as if he was going to officiate, and they put on his head the white biretta with the white mitre without pearls or gold.”160 Ameil insists on the colors (gold, white, red) that the pope wore the most often, the colors of the “living image of Christ on earth.”161 Immaculate as it was uncorrupted, the embalmed body of the pope escaped death. Never during the funeral ceremony did a reproduction or symbol replace the dead pope’s body. The pope’s unique vestments remained the only visual clue as to the status of the deceased, marking the institutional character of the corpse for the remainder of the ceremony.162 The great dignity of the pope, even in death, was suggested by the sumptuous paraments on which he lay. Ameil states that the bed was covered with red silk and gold panels, while the arms of the Church stood out in black silk.163 Gold silk also adorned the pillows that supported the head and feet of the pope, while the attendants who carried the corpse wore black if possible.164 The black mourning garments of the attendants contrasted with the bright gold and red that suggested the pomp of the everlasting institution. Sometimes these paraments were the only symbol available if the corpse was not “presentable” for exposition during the novena. The body was put in its coffin with no visible symbolic representation other than the fringes embroidered with the arms of the Church and pope.165 If we compare the papal funerals of the era of the Great Schism with later medieval secular funerals, we may note the persistence of this cloth symbolism, over the monarchical tendency toward “Ac si deberet celebrare et ponant in capite eius biretam albam cum mitra alba sine perlis et sine auro.” Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 219. 161 Paravicini Bagliani, The Pope’s Body, 89. 162 The white vestments, the distinctive pontifical habit, linked the functions of the pope to the deceased person. 163 “Serico rubeo cum una pulcra vona seu coopertorio etiam de serico rubeo, et desuper debent esse duo panni de auro se tenentes . . . circumquaque debent pendere arma sua et Ecclesie, in panno serico nigro vel iacintino.” Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 219. 164 “Item subtus caput eius sit pulvinar coopertum de panno aureo. Et post pedes eius in eodem feretro aliud pulvinar consimile cum floxis de serico et cordonibus de auro . . .. Posito super lecticam cum cruce, subdiaconus capa indutus nigra, si habeat, vel alia, antecedit et vadit ad capellam.” Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 220. 165 Clement VI was one of the popes buried without traditional protocol. According to records, when Clement died on December 6, 1352, the Apostolic Chamber spent a substantial amount – 2,490 florins – for his funeral including all the mourning clothes, embroideries (close to 400 florins just for these), alms, and masses. A scribe noted that on December 7, Peter of Frigidavilla, the administrator of the almshouse, received 400 pounds to give to the poor on the day Clement’s body was carried to the church for his burial. In addition, on December 7, Johannes de Seduno, the pope’s almoner, received 40 pounds to throw to the crowd of the poor while the casket traveled to its burial at Notre-Dame des Doms. Similarly, the master of the wax received reimbursement for his expenses during the funeral (dated December 6–8). Note that according to these sources there is no doubt that Clement was buried the day after his death, demonstrating that his body was not exposed and did not lie in state to follow liturgical protocol. A scribe also took care to note that a smith had been paid to seal Clement’s coffin, “pro ferrando cassam sive archam, in qua repositus est d. Clemens papa VI, 20 fl,” while it laid in the New Chapel of the papal palace, before his burial in Avignon cathedral. See Karl-Heinrich Schäfer, Die Ausgaben der apostolischen Kammer unter Benedikt XII, Klemens VI und Innocenz VI (Paderborn: F. Schöningh, 1914), 481–82. 160

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The Dead Pope Objectified and Institutionalized k 227 anthropomorphic visual representations of the royal institution. In the ecclesial institution’s funeral symbolism, vestments, paraments, and embroidered heraldry remained the norm. There is no doubt that during the Middle Ages, still-living leaders, popes as well as kings, were seen as inhabiting two bodies, natural and political.166 But the pope’s succession was not a natural, biological occasion. As kings let nature follow its course and strove to establish their sons as natural successors, the papacy had to find its heir by means of ritual during interregna. Little by little, cardinals defined themselves as the popes’ successors during the vacant see, taking over the analogous role in the Church that kin and lineage played in the secular world. For popes, one of the final stages of settling their affairs was to negotiate their succession with the College of Cardinals, which increasingly became defined as the Church’s “institutional body” during the interregnum. For Paravicini Bagliani, “The novena rendered possible the visibility of two bodies: The corpse of the dead pope, publicly exhibited with his visage uncovered [so onlookers witnessed death], and the corpus ecclesie, represented in a similarly visible way by the living College of Cardinals.”167 Here, I am expanding Paravicini Bagliani’s proposition, without contradicting it, by suggesting another perspective. After the initiation of the Schism, and anxious about the dangers involved in the cardinals’ growing prerogatives over the pope’s authority during the vacant see, Pierre Ameil offered an innovation in the papal obsequies. In his ordo, Ameil attempted to construct a symbolic reading of the papal death and funeral that approximated similar ceremonies associated with the secular monarchies. But what Ameil did was replace monarchical effigies with the actual body of the pope, embalmed and objectified, as a symbol of institutional continuity.168 Moreover, what Ameil conceived liturgically echoed in reality. After having been entombed in St. Pietro’s Chapel of S. Andrea, Urban’s body was moved closer to S. Pietro’s tomb within the basilica. The honor legitimated his election and persona.169 Another example where the pope performed his legitimacy, even in death.

Intent on finding institutional continuity paralleling monarchies and the king’s two bodies, Agostino Paravicini Bagliani in The Pope’s Body endeavored to reconcile the secular with the religious conception. He traced the development of the idea of the pope’s two bodies, especially with respect to how the Church formulated its own institutional perseverance and continuity during the Middle Ages. He suggests that ecclesiastical transitions developed from and built on the inherent internal contradiction between the pope’s physical transience and the Church’s institutional continuity. For Paravicini Bagliani, once the Church had affirmed the double nature of the papacy, it was the function of ritual to represent and establish this ambivalence and to prevent any challenges to the institution in periods of transition. Paravicini Bagliani, The Pope’s Body, xvi–xvii. This is also the theme of my Raiding Saint Peter. 167 Paravicini Bagliani, Morte e elezione del papa, 224. 168 The nearly oligarchic pretensions of the cardinals surfaced throughout medieval interregna. Cardinals grew in power from the earliest centuries after their appearance until Gregory X created the conclave in 1274, with his instruction Ubi periculum. This document limited the cardinals’ responsibilities under sede vacante to the election of the next pope. But the cardinals resisted, and their reaction to these attempts to curtail their activities and end their quest for political authority doubtless sparked their involvement in the double elections of the Great Western Schism. 169 Baronio, Annales, 26: 490; Marek Walczak, “The Portrait Miniature of Cardinal Zbigniew Oleśnicki on a Letter of Indulgence Issued in 1449 for the Church of All Saints in Cracow,” Journal of Art Historiography 17 (2017): 7–8; Tiberius Alpharanus and Michele Cerrati, De basilicae Vaticanae antiquissima et nova structura (Roma: Tip. poliglotta Vaticana, 1914), 76; Michael Borgolte, Petrusnachfolge und Kaiserimitation: Die Grablegen der Päpste, ihre Genese und Traditionsbildung (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1995), 257–58. 166

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228 l finding unity in liturgy For Ameil, a papal effigy was not required since the pope, embalmed and displayed, was the effigy.170 The embalmed papal corpse was for Ameil the body natural and politic of the Church, at once human and object, human and institution. But unlike the body of a king, the pope’s body was not separated at death; it remained one. Nowhere is Ameil’s resistance at seeing the papal office and body separated more visible than in his silence about one of the most crucial moments of the sede vacante: the destruction of the papal bull’s matrices that ended the legitimate rule of a pope. The ceremony was an important one and Ameil’s rival, François de Conzié, details its various steps. The vice-chancellor, who resigned after the death of the pope, in contrast to the camerlengo, who remained in post during and after the transition, oversaw the destruction of the papal bull. The seal (bulla) communicated clearly the duality of the papacy: mortal and immortal. The seal’s matrix showed the coat of arms of the man-pope while the counter-seal’s matrix showed the images of Peter and Paul, who symbolized the perpetuity of the institution. De Conzié describes how the vice-chancellor gathered the matrices from the bullatores and wrapped them in a thick cloth, which he sealed with his signet to prevent further publication of any official documents under the former pope’s name. After this, the prior of the cardinal-bishops convened the cardinals in the pope’s dressing room, next to the pope’s bedroom, so that they could witness the vice-chancellor’s exhibition and destruction with a hammer of the pope’s seal. The cardinals sat on bare benches according to their order of precedence, while the camerlengo, treasurer, and clerks of the chamber stood behind them. Once the pope’s seal was obliterated, the apostolic matrix was handed for safekeeping to the camerlengo, until the election. If the camerlengo was not available, the vice-chancellor kept the matrix after the bishops’ prior sealed it.171

170

171

Interestingly, the monarchical model of tomb effigies, something distinct from the funeral procession effigies, eventually reached the Roman and Avignonese curia. Even though ecclesiastical tombs became adorned in the same style as monarchical effigies, as the title of Julian Gardner’s The Tomb and the Tiara indicates, effigies never found a place in the papal funerary ritual. See, Gardner, The Tomb and the Tiara. See Dykmans, Cérémonial-Conzié, 3: 265: 9. Item prior episcoporum cardinalium, vel ipso impedito alius antiquior post ipsum, tunc per proprium nuntium debet convocare alios dominos cardinales qui tunc erunt in curia, ut certa bora ad hoc opportuna conveniant in palatio, in camera paramenti, aut alia ad hoc opportuna et melius disposita, ubi debent esse scamna parata, ordinate absque tamen bancalibus seu aliis pannis. 10. Item postquam domini cardinales ibi convenerint, debent ibi ad ipsos venire camerarius, thesaurarius pape et clerici camere, qui stabunt appodiati retro scamna, absque eo quod sedeant. In quorum omnium presentia dictus vicecancellarius debet exhibere cugna bullarum. Et tunc illud quod erit sculptum nomine pape defuncti, cum martello ad hoc parato et portato per bullatores, qui hac de causa sint etiam ad hoc vocati, malleabitur, concutietur et frangetur sic et taliter quod ad signandum ulterius reddatur omnino inutile et ineptum. 11. Aliud vero cugnum continens imagines apostolorum Petri et Pauli remanebit omnino integrum et illesum, et replicabitur in dicte panno. Et sic clausum et sigillatum per dictum vicecancellarium tradetur domino camerario, per eum custodiendum donec Ecclesie de papa sit provisum. Vel poterit sic clausum et sigillatum penes dictum vicecancellarium remanere, sed eo casu sigillabitur per priorem episcoporum, vel tres priores cuiuslibet ordinis cardinalium.

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The Dead Pope Objectified and Institutionalized k 229 Pierre Ameil, rather than discussing an event that could be conceived as traumatic – de facto, it separated the man from the office – focuses his ordo instead on the care of the pope’s body. The ordo jumps from embalming to the exposition of the pope’s body, followed by transport to the chapel, inventory of the pope’s goods, exequy, the novena, clothes, and then the preparation of the conclave.172 He never deals with the strike of the hammer that separated man from office. Lastly, it is necessary to visit what happened after the Schism. The authors of fifteenthcentury ceremonials that succeeded de Conzié and Ameil often noted that the pope’s body was not exposed for long, and usually buried within three days or less.173 Responding to Paravicini Bagliani’s suggestion that popular commotions around papal bodies offered a pretext for hasty burial and shortened the time of exposition, I would suggest that cardinals understood that burying the pope quickly meant removing a symbol that potentially diminished their own power during the sede vacante. The pope’s body was a symbolic threat to those who thought that they had finally achieved symbolic preeminence during interregna. There could not be two institutional representatives. This suggestion is supported by evidence drawn from the continuing struggle over funeral liturgies. When Patrizi Piccolomini drafted the next ceremonial almost a century after Ameil (between 1484 and 1492), he hesitated between two different schemes: either give precedence to the cardinals or the pope. He entitles his Chapter XV, “Death of Cardinals and the Pope,” giving primacy to cardinals’ ritual over that of the pope.174 It seems ironic that on several occasions he notes that the service for the pope should duplicate the one for cardinals, “ut in exequiis cardinalium diximus.”175 This lack of “papal” precedence is somewhat remarkable. Piccolomini even underscores that the bodies of cardinals were to be preserved to slow their rate of decomposition – a sign that he considered that they, also, had achieved dual forms since they were embalmed.176 Several pages later, Piccolomini more or less copies Ameil when he details the preparation of the papal corpse and identifies the balsam used on his body before its exposition.177 The pope was exposed for some two or three days for popular observances, allowing for the popular kissing of his hands.178 Piccolomini’s hesitations are 172

Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 218–32. Paravicini Bagliani, The Pope’s Body, 156, cites Johann Burchard, c. 1450–1506, master of ceremonies of several Renaissance popes, as stating that “formerly it was usual to leave it for three days.” 174 Marc Dykmans, L’oeuvre de Patrizi Piccolomini, ou, Le Cérémonial papal de la première Renaissance (Città del Vaticano: Biblioteca apostolica vaticana, 1980), 221. 175 Dykmans, L’oeuvre de Patrizi Piccolomini, 235. 176 “Cum autem languens spiritum Creatori reddiderit, ministri, deposito ex lecto post morulam cadavere, illud aqua calida lavent, barbam radant, mundent et ita curent opportunis remediis ut corpus sine fetore usque ad prestitutum tempus preservari possit.” Dykmans, L’oeuvre de Patrizi Piccolomini, 222. 177 “Cubicularii autem parent aquam calidam cum herbis odoriferis, et fratres plumbatores lavent eius corpus; tonsor radat barbam. Iterum lavetur corpus cum optimo vino albo aromatizato et calido, et corporis foramina omnia obturentur et impleantur aromatibus mirrha, thure, aloes. Nares et aures impleantur musco, et demum bene fricentur manus et totum corpus balsamo, quem cubicularii et sacrista subministrabunt. Post hec penitentiarii incluent eum vestes.” Dykmans, L’oeuvre de Patrizi Piccolomini, 234. 178 “Finito officio, remanet ibi corpus per biduum aut triduum, ut populus possit illud visitare et osculari manum. In nocte reponitur in capella maiori, et tandem noctu sepelitur.” Dykmans, L’oeuvre de Patrizi Piccolomini, 235. 173

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230 l finding unity in liturgy revealing. While he granted cardinals a double presence – suggested by their embalming – he still believed in the papal corpse’s institutional presence. Piccolomini’s successors eventually reverted to pre–fourteenth century models, those highlighted by Agostino Paravicini Bagliani. Cardinals reconquered their place as the Church sede vacante. When Alexander VI died in 1503, the Romans acclaimed the cardinals of Naples and S. Pietro in Vincoli to the shouts of “Ecclesia! Ecclesia! Collegio! Collegio!”179 What Ameil had formulated during the Schism, the identification of the papal body with the ecclesiastical institution, could not survive the pressures of court politics, the oligarchic tendencies of cardinals and conciliarism. Too many men and symbols vied to represent the survival of the Church at the passing of its head.180

179 180

Paravicini Bagliani, The Pope’s Body, 160. With some exception, such as Pie V and saintly popes. See Florence Buttay, “La mort du pape entre Renaissance et Contre-Réforme: Les transformations de l’image du Souverain Pontife et ses implications (fin XVe–fin XVIe siècle),” Revue Historique 305, no. 1 (2003): 67–94.

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6 Rome during the Schism

and the following chapter, we will continue the exploration of performance during the Schism, this time within the context of the urban culture of both capitals, Rome and Avignon. 1 This chapter will outline the history of Rome between 1378 and 1417. Avignon (Chapter 7) will follow, with evidence demonstrating that the Schism indeed affected both cities, mostly in what could be labeled their politico-cultural and spatial dimensions. The following discussion on Rome will be grounded on chroniclers, the analyses of notarial archives exploited mostly by Italian historians, and the edition of various correspondences emanating from clergymen, procurators, and merchants, since communal archives are mostly nonexistant for the period. 2 The argument will propose that both Commune and King Ladislaus counter-performed the papacy. Rather than dying a quick death in 1398, the Commune of Rome survived until c. 1415. Even though Romans and their Commune often rebelled against the papacy, they seized any opportunity to participate in its cultural and ritual life, innovating, monopolizing, and if not inverting

I

N THIS

I established the premises of this study in Joëlle Rollo-Koster, “Rome during the Schism: The Long Carnival,” in La linea d’ombra: Roma 1378–1417, ed. Walter Angelelli and Serena Romano (Rome: Viella, 2019), 41–52. 2 The one exception is James Palmer, The Virtues of Economy: Governance, Power, and Piety in Late Medieval Rome (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2019). See, for other examples, Isa Lori Sanfilippo, La Roma dei romani: Arti, mestieri e professioni nella Roma del Trecento (Roma: Nella sede dell’Istituto, 2001); Anna Modigliani, Mercati, botteghe e spazi di commercio a Roma tra mediovo ed età moderna (Roma: Roma nel Riascimento, 1998). The same types of documents were used similarly for the earlier period. See Robert Brentano, Rome before Avignon (London: Longman, 1974); and Jean-Claude Maire Vigueur, The Forgotten Story: Rome in the Communal Period, trans. David Fairservice (Rome: Viella, 2016). For the Schism, see Renzo Ninci, “Ladislao e la conquista di Roma del 1408,” Archivio della Societa Romana di Storia Patria 111 (1988): 161–224; Dieter Girgensohn, “Io esghonbro per paura: Roma minacciata da Ladislao di Angiò Durazzo (1407–1408),” in Per la storia del Mezzogiorno medieval e moderno: Studi in memoria di Jole Mazzoleni, 2 vols. (Rome: Pubblicazioni degli Archivi di Stato, 1998), 1: 249–70. 1

k 231 https://doi.org/10.1017/9781316717691.007

232 l rome during the schism it, often seizing, occupying, and marking spaces attached to the papacy. I will label this subcutaneous injection of papal culture into Roman political life, the “Lateranization” of the Capitolio. In addition, a powerful contender linked to the Commune, Ladislaus the king of Naples, used papal “weaknesses” to control and co-opt papal ritual. Ladislaus actually interfered with papal rituals with each occasion available to him. When contesting papal authority, both the Commune and Ladislaus understood that the sacred, including its spaces, was constitutive of political experience and he used it. In this and Chapter 7, space, and sometime objects, will become the principal performative agent. Two religio-cultural symbols of the papacy were affected by this co-optation: (1) the Laterano – the Commune and Ladislaus favored the basilica, a symbolic counterweight to the Vaticano where the returned papacy had settled for good – and (2) the communal use of the Veronica, the Volto Santo (a cloth imbibed with the facial sweat and blood of Christ). Other locales, such as Castel Sant’Angelo or the Trastevere rione became foci for contention but to a lesser degree, maybe because their locations were as strategic as they were symbolic. After addressing the city’s general topography, and its Trecento layout, the following pages will trace the effects of the Schism in Rome, paralleling Commune and papacy. What I label the “Lateranization of the Capitolio,” will suggest Roman communal mimetism of papal performance, with its banderesi seal, opening of a Holy Gate, and care of the Via Maggiore. The next section will focus on King Ladislaus and the “Long Carnival: Rome, 1404–1420.” A study of the Veronica during the Schism will end this examination of Roman performance. Compared to other Italian cities such as Florence or Venice, late medieval Rome has barely received the attention it truly deserves.3 Masked by the accomplishments of its Baroque past, late medieval Rome is barely visible in the historiography of the city’s history. Still, as Richard Krautheimer emphasizes, “Three times in the thirteenth century Rome aspired to greatness.”4 Popes of the late thirteenth century took pride in beautifying their capital, attempted to rule as both spiritual and temporal rulers of the church, and claimed lordship over secular rulers. They did this as they turned “Rome into the resplendent capital of the papacy, and its court into the true head of the world.”5 But eventually their efforts met with disaster. The early 1300s saw the papacy leave the city for its Avignonese “exile,” and Rome fell into demographic and economic recession. The accidental poverty of Rome’s medieval sources (the communal archives were sacked on multiple occasions, diaries/ricordanze are lacking, etc.) has weighed heavily on the city’s late medieval historiography. Since early modern records are more visible, historians have pushed aside the medieval period to focus on the Renaissance. Still, a few historians break this silence, relying on court records, notarial archives, archaeology, chronicles, and literally anything available to them, including Vatican administrative registers.6 3

The very recent La linea d’ombra: Roma 1378–1420, ed. Serena Romano, and Walter Angelelli (Rome: Viella, 2019) attempts to improve the state of the field, focusing on art and cultural history. Palmer, The Virtues of Economy, 113–40, offers a complementary introduction to late medieval Rome. 4 Richard Krautheimer, Rome, Profile of a City, 312–1308 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1980), 203. 5 Krautheimer, Rome, Profile of a City, 227. 6 To name only a few, see the works of Arnold Esch, Andreas Rehberg, Jean-Claude Maire Vigueur, Étienne Hubert, André Vauchez, Isa Lori Sanfilippo, Anna Modigliani, Massimo Miglio, Ivana Ait, Sandro Carocci, etc. Note: All are continental historians.

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Rome during the Schism k 233 Recently, James Palmer has divided the late medieval Roman historiography between an Anglophone tradition, which usually emphasizes the post 1420’s return of Martin V to the city (the Renaissance) and the “abandonment and ruin” that preceded it, and a Continental tradition, “long drawn to the late medieval city’s vitality, its political, social, and economic dynamism,” which depicts the city in all its failures and achievements and approaches Rome as yet another medieval Commune.7 Largely drawn, the historiography of Trecento Rome oscillates between three poles: Rome before Avignon, to use Robert Brentano’s title, with an emphasis on Boniface VIII and the first jubilee in 13008; Rome during Avignon, the Rome of Cola di Rienzo, roughly James A. Palmer, “Medieval and Renaissance Rome: Mending the Divide,” History Compass (2017): e12424, doi.org/10.1111/hic3.12424, the quotes are on page 2. Another recent discussion of Rome’s medieval historiography can be found in Pascal Montaubin, “De l’an mil à la Renaissance: De qui donc Rome fut-elle la capitale?” in Congrès des médiévistes de l’Enseignement supérieur: Les villes capitales au Moyen Age (Paris: Publications de la Sorbonne, 2006), 391–428; and Sylvain Parent, “De la Rome des papes à la Rome des romains: À propos de quelques publications récentes sur la Rome médiévale,” Médiévales 62 (2012): 175–86. 8 The most up-to-date bibliography of this pope is found in Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, Boniface VIII: Un pape hérétique? (Paris: Payot & Rivages, 2003). There is a rich bibliography concerning this first jubilee. Two primary sources of importance are available to us: Cardinal Stefaneschi’s and Giovanni Villani’s accounts. A new translation of Jacopo Stefaneschi, cardinal-deacon of St. George’s, description appears in Annibale Ilari, “La canonizzazione bonifaciana del giubileo,” in La storia dei giubilei, 1300–1423, ed. Jacques Le Goff, Claudio Strinato, and Gloria Fossi (Rome: BNL, 1997), 184–215, the Italian translation appears pages 198–215. Further discussion on Stefaneschi can be found in Giovanna Ragionieri, “Un cardinale testimone del primo giubileo: Jacopo Stefaneschi e il de centesimo,” in La storia dei giubilei, 1300–1423, ed. Jacques Le Goff, Claudio Strinato, and Gloria Fossi (Rome: BNL, 1997), 216–23. As for Giovanni Villani, he was inspired to write his chronicle after having participated in this first jubilee. The most recent reprint of the edition of his chronicle is Giovanni Villani, Ignazio Moutier, and Francesco Gherardi Dragomani, Cronica di Giovanni Villani (Frankfurt: Minerva, 1969). Some of his texts, translated into English, form chapter 72 of Katherine Ludwig Jansen, Joanna H. Drell, Frances Andrews, Medieval Italy: Texts in Translation (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2009), 291–94. Similarly, Étienne Anheim, Isabelle Heullant-Donat, Emmanuelle Lopez, and Odile Redon, “Rome et les jubilés du XIVe siècle: Histoires immédiates,” Médiévales 40 (2001): 53–82, translate into French documents pertaining to the first and second jubilees. For a general discussion of jubilees, see amongst many, Paolo Brezzi, Storia degli anni santi: Da Bonifacio VIII al Giubileo del 2000 (Milano: Mursia, 1997); Gary Dickson, “The Crowd at the Feet of Pope Boniface VIII: Pilgrimage, Crusade and the First Roman Jubilee (1300),” Journal of Medieval History 25 (1999): 279–307; Renato Stopani, Firenze e i primi giubilei: Un momento di storia fiorentina della solidarietà (Florence: Centro studi romei, 1999); Arsenio Frugoni, Pellegrini a Roma nel 1300: Cronache del primo Giubileo (Casale Monferrato: Piemme, 1999); Herbert L. Kessler and Johanna Zacharias, Rome 1300: On the Path of the Pilgrim (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2000); Arsenio Frugoni and Amedeo De Vincentiis, Il giubileo di Bonifacio VIII (Milano: Mondolibri, 2000); Claudio Leonardi Jacobus, Paul Gerhard Schmidt, and Antonio Placanica, De centesimo seu iubileo anno (1300): La storia del primo giubileo (Florence: Sismel, Ed. del Galluzzo, 2001). See also, I giubilei nella storia della Chiesa: Atti del Congresso internazionale in collaborazione con l’École française de Rome sotto il patrocinio del comitato centrale per il giubileo del 2000, Roma, Istituto patristico Augustinianum, 23–26 giugno 1999 (Vatican City: Libreria editrice vaticana, 2001); and Ludwig Schmugge, “1413: Das vergessene Heilige Jahr,” in Italia et Germania Liber Amicorum Arnold Esch, ed. Hagen Keller, Werner Paravicini, and Wolfgang Schieder (Berlin, New York: De Gruyter, 2001), 191–98. Finally, an entire issue of the journal Médiévales 40 (2001) is dedicated to Roman jubilees. It is available online at www.persee.fr/ issue/medi_0751-2708_2001_num_20_40 (accessed on February 20, 2021). 7

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234 l rome during the schism contemporary with the second jubilee of 1350; and Rome after Avignon, especially the rule of Boniface IX and the fall of the Roman Commune in 1398 – including, ironically, another jubilee roughly between 1390 and 1400.9 However, the Rome of Cola di Rienzo has received the lion’s share of attention. Cola belonged to a group of Romans who traveled to Avignon in 1343 pleading for a papal return and a jubilee. A friend of Petrarch, he was an avid student of Rome’s history and used his rhetorical talent to galvanize the Roman citizenry toward libertà and a restoration of the Republic. In May 1347, Rienzo staged a coup to restore republican Rome, with the support of a group of anti-Colonna barons. He made himself tribune, “miles Spiritus Sancti,” but was exiled a few months later because of his excesses. He was away from the city when the Colonna regained control at the time of jubilee, but his dream to see a return of the Roman Republic still lingered in the city. Cola traveled to Prague, Avignon, and back to Rome, where he regained power temporarily before being hacked to death on the Capitolio in 1354. His compelling story and dramatic persona have of course attracted scores of researchers and somewhat monopolized the historiography.10 In general, historians avoid using the Great Western Schism as an analytical category to investigate the history of Rome.11 With the exception of Ferdinand Gregorovius and Ludwig Pastor’s chronological history of the city and of the papacy, not a single historian has highlighted the Schism.12 True, Walter Angelelli and Serena Romano’s La linea d’ombra: Roma 1378–1420 puts the onus on the period, but the volume is focused essentially 9

10

11

12

See Brentano, Rome before Avignon. The best surveys from the point of view of jubilees are found in Jonathan Sumption, Pilgrimage: An Image of Mediaeval Religion (London: Faber & Faber, 1975); and Jacques Le Goff, Claudio Strinato, and Gloria Fossi, La storia dei giubilei, 1300–1423 (Rome: BNL, 1997); and Médiévales 40 (2001). Publications focused on jubilees of course multiplied with the initiation of the second millennium. On the historiography that treats him as either tyrant, patriot, or martyr, see Joëlle Rollo-Koster, Avignon and Its Papacy, 1309–1417: Popes, Institutions, and Society (Lantham: Rowman and Littlefield, 2015), 72–75. On his relationship with Petrarch, see Francesco Petrarca, Mario Emilio Cosenza, and Ronald G. Musto, The Revolution of Cola Di Rienzo (New York: Italica Press, 1996). A contemporary chronicler composed a Vita di Cola di Rienzo around 1358. See John Wright, trans., The Life of Cola di Rienzo (Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies, 1975). For his biographies, see Amanda Collins, Greater Than Emperor: Cola Di Rienzo (ca. 1313–54) and the World of Fourteenth-Century Rome (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2002); Ronald G. Musto, Apocalypse in Rome: Cola Di Rienzo and the Politics of the New Age (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2003); Andreas Rehberg and Anna Modigliani, Cola di Rienzo e il Commune di Roma, 2 vols. (Rome: RR Inedita, 2004). On his death, see Joëlle Rollo-Koster and Alizah Holstein, “Anger and Spectacle in Late Medieval Rome: Gauging Emotion in Urban Topography?” in Cities, Texts and Social Networks, 400–1500: Experiences and Perceptions of Medieval Urban Space, ed. Anne Lester, Caroline Goodson, and Carol Symes (Farnham: Ashgate, 2010), 149–74. For example, of the eighteen chapters composing the recent Rome across Time and Space: Cultural Transmission and the Exchange of Ideas c. 500–1400, ed. Claudia Bolgia, Rosamond McKitterick, and John Osborne (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014), none address the Great Western Schism. Ferdinand Gregorovius, History of the City of Rome in the Middle Ages, vol. 6, part 2, trans. Annie Hamilton (London: G. Bell, 1894; 2nd rev. ed. 1906); and Ludwig Pastor and Friedrich August, The History of the Popes from the Close of the Middle Ages Drawn from the Secret Archives of the Vatican and Other Original Sources, vol. 1, ed. Frederick Ignatius Antrobus (London: K. Paul, Trench, Trübner, 1898).

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Rome during the Schism k 235 on art and culture, and as they state in their introduction, “Rome’s political and social fragmentation” at the time, limits any attempts at a definitive synthesis.13 The latest Italian monograph on medieval Rome, Alberto Di Santo’s Guerre di torri: Violenza e conflitto a Roma tra 1200 e 1500, for example, practically ignores the Schism.14 Arnold Esch refuses to address its years in detail in his most recent book, drawing a pitiable picture of the city, especially for the period 1398–1420.15 Rome: An Urban History from Antiquity to the Present (2016) treats the period with such contempt that the section is marred with gross errors.16 James Palmer’s focus on private acts, from property transfers to last wills, as a gateway to the

13

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15

Walter Angelelli and Serena Romano, “La Linea d’ombra: Introduzione,” in La linea d’ombra: Roma 1378–1417, ed. Walter Angelelli and Serena Romano (Rome: Viella, 2019), 18–19. Alberto Di Santo, Guerre di torri: Violenza e conflitto a Roma tra 1200 e 1500 (Rome: Viella, 2016), 161, 186. Arnold Esch, Rom: Vom Mittelalter zur Renaissance (Munich: C. H. Beck, 2016). In my review of the work for Speculum, I state: Before addressing the ‘abysmal’ concluding years of the Schism and their effects on the commune in chapter 3, Esch focuses chapter 2 on Roman elites and the 1398 dissolution of the commune. The author offers an interesting and compact discussion of Neapolitan influence with the use of clannism and nepotism as political means, and the growing sway Florentines held on the city in trade, finances, the arts, and humanism. The magic date of 1420 and the return to Rome of a single (Roman, Colonna) pope unveils the foundations of a new city. This is the focus of the next ten chapters. Of course, certain topics such as the renewed pontification of the city with Martin V’s return, the continuing utilization of nepotism as governmental means, or the radicalization of conciliarism are squarely addressed (chaps. 3–4). Ironically, these early Renaissance years do not seem that different from the Schismatic years – popes flee or are fighting with the Colonnas, Rome is insecure, condottieri roam, and Rome is brutally pacified by a cardinal-general . . .. And again, we can regret that even a specialist of the period pushes the Great Western Schism (1378–1417) back to the darkest corners of history.

16

See Joëlle Rollo-Koster, “Review of Arnold Esch, Rom: Vom Mittelalter zur Renaissance Renaissance, 1378–1484. Munich: C. H. Beck, 2016,” Speculum 94, no. 1 (2019): 195–97. In his previous work, Arnold Esch, Bonifaz IX. und der Kirchenstaat (Tübingen: M. Niemeyer, 1969), only covered the time frame of this pope, narrowing the scope of his study to the few years of his rule. In a chapter entitled “Chaos in the Fortified City” the authors state: He [Gregory XI] returned in November [to Rome], but his death the following year sent cardinals scurrying back to Avignon. During this period, known as the Western Schism, competing claims to the papacy between 1378 and 1417 plunged the city even deeper into chaos. The constant threat of violence, the lack of public amenities, and the congested streets, dilapidated riverbanks, and ruinous state of buildings made the city treacherous. Little new construction was initiated; many tottering ancient buildings were pulled down, while others were appropriated for churches and fortified palace compounds. Yet throughout this period of disorder, the need persisted to reappropriate ancient Rome symbolically and physically as a means to confirm the city’s continuing status as a world power. Petrarch visited Rome in 1337 and saw a “broken city.” Yet he was struck by the physical presence of the ancient ruins and was convinced that they held the power to ignite in Rome a thirst to rediscover its past, to begin “to know herself,” to regain its importance in the world, and once again to rise to glory. When the popes finally returned from Avignon, reestablishing the Seat of Peter as the center of Christendom in 1420, his cri de coeur found a receptive audience among humanists, cardinals, and popes eager to embrace the renaissance of ideas, arts, and scholarship’

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236 l rome during the schism city’s baronial elites’ performance of virtue, hides the Schism. Palmer shows how the elite lost interest in defending the Commune, choosing instead to support the pope’s rule.17 Still, historians hint at the period’s importance. Isa Lori Sanfilippo agrees that the Schism divided Rome as it did Christianity, while Jean-Claude Maire Vigueur sees a link between the Schism and the longevity of the banderesi government. He suggests that the Schism allowed the “regime to remain powerful until the fateful date of 1398, without incurring serious dangers on the part of its opponents.”18

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tienne Hubert’s urban and demographic study of the city from roughly the tenth to thirteenth century defines Rome according to the notarial standards of the time, that is, by popular density. Notaries’ descriptions usually delimited the city space within its walls (and we should remember that Rome held two sets of walls: the ancient Aurelian walls that encompassed the majority of the city, and the Carolingian Civitas Leoniana walls that surround roughly the Vaticano and its borgo). Medieval Rome covered an extremely large surface of some 1400/1500 ha2 within its third-century Aurelian walls, which ran some 20 km. Notaries rarely used these walls with infra/extra muros identifiers. Rather, they chose to identify locations vis–à–vis the Tiber. The city’s center was the space lived in; the periphery was “extra locum habitatum in urbe.”19 One of the most remarkable aspects of medieval Rome was the lack of a true center. There were no unique public piazzas, common in so many other Italian Communes, to locate the political and social lives of its citizens. In Rome, discontinuity marked the urban fabric. Distances separated religious and civic poles. Rome relied on its networks of ancient roads, naming only a few of its streets (the Viae Sacrae, Pape, Recta, Minerva, Arenulae) while others remained simply Viae publica.20 Traditionally, the population of Trecento Rome has been estimated at between 25,000 and 30,000 inhabitants, with the highest number for the earliest period.21 These low population numbers were presented by Karl-Julius Beloch, who suggested that a valid estimation of the Roman population can be obtained at a given time by deducing the population at large from the religious population.22 But Étienne Hubert emphasizes that Rabun M. Taylor, Katherine Rinne, and Spiro Kostof, Rome: An Urban History from Antiquity to the Present (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016), 238–39. They also locate the Council of Constance in Switzerland (see page 251). 17 Palmer, The Virtues of Economy. 18 Sanfilippo, La Roma dei romani, 85. Jean-Claude Maire Vigueur, “Il Comune Romano,” in Roma Medievale, ed. André Vauchez (Bari: Laterza, 2001), 140. Maire Vigueur, The Forgotten Story, 254–58, only focuses on the role of the banderesi in the 1378 election. 19 Étienne Hubert, Espace urbain et habitat à Rome: Du Xe siècle à la fin du XIIIe siècle (Rome: École française de Rome, 1990), 63–96. 20 Hubert, Espace urbain et habitat à Rome, 105–10. 21 Esch, Rom, 36, suggests around 25,000 inhabitants in 1400. 22 For example, an early fourteenth-century census of some 2,000 religious suggests a maximum of 30,000 inhabitants, while a census of 6,000 religious suggests a population of some 100,000 for the sixteenth century. As presented by Étienne Hubert, “Rome au XIVe siècle: Population et espace urbain,” Médiévales 40 (2001): 44–45.

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General Topography k 237 the city was already losing inhabitants at the beginning of the fourteenth century, when the economic crisis, departure of the papacy, poor harvests, and famine affected its population. And of course, the Black Death rendered the situation even worse. Regardless, he contradicts the lower estimations by defending the classification proposed by Maria Ginatempo et Lucia Sandri, estimating the population within a 40,000–80,000 range.23 Relying on Anna Esposito, Anna Modigliani suggests some 25,000–30,000 inhabitants for the early years of the Quattrocento, increasing to 50,000 by the end.24 Still, a robust immigration swelled numbers at all times.25 Obviously, there is still much discussion.26 Sources are meagre to support a safe estimation, as most communal records for the period have disappeared. A fire in 1514 and then the 1527 sack of Rome destroyed most documents that had been produced by the Commune. Only the mid-thirteenth-century statutes of the city survived with their 1469 revisions.27 Rome was divided in districts or rioni since antiquity, with their contrade, what we would call today neighborhoods. They numbered twelve from the middle of the twelfth century: I Monti, II Trevi, III Colonna, IV Campo Marzio, V Ponte, VI Parione, VII Arenula, VIII Sant’ Eustachio, IX Pigna, X Campitelli, XI Sant’ Angelo, XII Ripa. The Trastevere was added sometime during the fourteenth century (it was rione in 1378), and the last, the Borgo Leonino, much later in 1586. The Tiber Island belonged to Rione Ripa.28 Richard Krautheimer’s foundational work allows us to easily identify the spatial occupation of the city in the early and central Middle Ages. His work has been recently improved upon, but his foundations remain largely unquestioned. He divides the city in two zones based on territorial occupation. The majority of the population crowded the abitato – the Vaticano’s Borgo Leonino, and the bends of the Tiber (Campo Marzio and Trastevere) – while large chunks of unoccupied space formed the disabitato, the Laterano’s area. Even though the Laterano was the patriarchium of the popes, Rome’s cathedral, and the 23

24

25

26

27

28

See Hubert, “Rome au XIVe siècle,” 51–52. See also Maria Ginatempo and Lucia Sandri, L’Italia delle città: Il popolamento urbano tra Medioevo e Rinascimento, secoli XIII–XVI (Florence: Le Lettere, 1990), 224–25. In comparison, Torgil Magnuson, The Urban Transformation of Medieval Rome, 312–1420 (Stockholm: Swedish Institute in Rome, 2004), 128, suggests some 35,000 inhabitants in 1198 and 20,000 at end of the Schism. Anna Modigliani, “Mercati, botteghe e spazi di commercio nella Roma tardomedievale,” in Mercati, arti e fiere storiche di Roma e del Lazio, ed. R. Padovano (Rome: Esedra, 2011), 34. See also, Anna Esposito, “La popolazione romana dalla fine del sec. XIV al Sacco: Caratteri e forme di un’evoluzione demografica,” in Popolazione e società a Roma dal medioevo all’età contemporanea, ed. Eugenio Sonnino (Rome: Il Calamo, 1998), 37–49. Matteo Sanfilippo, “Roma nel Rinascimento: Una città di immigrati,” in Le forme del testo e l’immaginario della metropoli, ed. Benedetta Bini and Valerio Viviani (Viterbo: Sette Città, 2009), 73. See the discussion in Chris Wickham, Medieval Rome: Stability and Crisis of a City, 900–1150 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015), 112–13. Anna Esposito “Tra saperi intellettuali e conoscenze tecniche: Il caso di roma nel tardo medioevo,” in La justice des familles: Autour de la transmission des biens, des savoirs et des pouvoirs (Europe, Nouveau monde, XIIe–XIXe siècles), ed. Anna Bellavitis and Isabelle Chabot (Rome: École française de Rome, 2011), 291. Regarding the Trastevere, see Andreas Rehberg, “Il rione Trastevere e i suoi abitanti nelle testimonianze raccolte sugli inizi dello Scisma del 1378,” in Trastevere un’analisi di lungo periodo, ed. Letizia Ermini Pani and Carlo Travaglini (Rome: Presso la società alla biblioteca vallicelliana, 2010), 255–317.

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238 l rome during the schism administrative center of the papacy with its own borgo, it sat isolated from the city’s center for a good part of the Middle Ages.29 Still, it remained the space where the pope rendered his temporal justice.30 Chris Wickham builds on Krautheimer’s definition of Rome’s “urban fabric,” but nuances his analysis.31 Exploring archeological and documentary evidence, he suggests that during roughly the central Middle Ages, until the mid-twelfth century, the disabitato was not so desolated and the river bend not so populated, adding that the Roman hills were not as depopulated as expected. Wickham insinuates that the city sprawled wider than Krautheimer suggests, was less divided, and was composed of populated zones interspersed with rural ones.32 The majority of the population resided within the Campo Marzio, with limits to the south reaching the Capitolio, the Mausoleum of Augustus to the north, the Via Lata to the east, and the Ponte Sant’Angelo to the west. Other boundaries were formed by the Trastevere, with S. Maria in Trastevere and S. Cicilia churches, and the Borgo Leonino, that is, the Vaticano area. It should be noted, as Chris Wickham explains, that even this populated area held terra vacans.33 According to Paul Hetherington, “It was not until the Renaissance that major popes such as Julius II began to impose some element of order on what had, for many centuries, been essentially the product of piecemeal and unplanned building.”34 If the city held no true center, the Vaticano and the Capitoline Hill, the Campidoglio/ Capitolio, were its two symbolic poles. One represented the papacy, the other the Commune.35 To the east of the Capitolio, the Laterano palace laid undefended in disabitato territory. There, agricultural lands were interrupted by a few neighborhoods: the Laterano, S. Maria Maggiore, S. Maria Nova, and the Colosseo. Chris Wickham describes such areas as “a network of urban villages, with smaller and bigger agglomerations separated by 29

30 31

32 33 34

35

For a history of the Laterano during the Middle Ages, see Ingo Herklotz, Gli eredi di Costantino: Il papato, il Laterano e la propaganda visiva nel 12 Secolo (Rome: Viella, 2000); Manfred Luchterhandt, “Vom Palatium Papae zum Pilgerort: Der Lateran im Hoch- und Spätmittelalter,” in Wunder Roms im Blick des Nordens von der Antike bis zur Gegenwart, Exhibition Catalogue, ed. Christoph Stiegemann (Paderborn: Michael Imhof Verlag, 2017), 128–33. See also Krautheimer, Rome, Profile of a City, 237–326; and Magnuson, The Urban Transformation of Medieval Rome, 122. For a contemporary description authored anonymously in 1382 by a Benedictine official who remained with the courts of Urban V and Gregory XI, see the De mirabilibus et indulgentiis quae in Urbe Romana existent in Roberto Valentini and Giuseppe Zucchetti, Codice topografico della città di Roma, 4 vols. (Rome: Tipografia del Senato, 1953), 4: 84–86. Arnold Esch does not radically alter this vision of abitato/disabitato. See Esch, Rom, 17–41. Montaubin, “Pater urbis et orbis,” 33. Chris Wickham, Medieval Rome: Stability and Crisis of a City, 900–1150 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014); and Sleepwalking into a New World: The Emergence of Italian City Communes in the Twelfth Century (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2015), 119–60. Wickham, Medieval Rome, 112–80. See also his map 5 (The urban center of Rome), xxiv. Wickham, Medieval Rome, 118, 120, 130–32. Paul Hetherington, Medieval Rome: A Portrait of the City and Its Life (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1994), 30. The Campidoglio was also the location of the town’s market. See Anna Modigliani, “L’approvvigionamento annonario e i luoghi del commercio alimentare,” in Roma: Le trasformazioni urbane nel Quattrocento, II. Funzioni urbane e tipologie edilizie, ed. G. Simoncini (Florence: Olschki, 2004), 29–63.

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General Topography k 239 vineyards, the occasional grain-field, and (of course) ruins. There were probably fewer such villages in the twelfth century than the tenth, but some survived then too.”36 Within these urban residential islands, aristocrats clustered with powerful citizens and lower clientele. Unlike other medieval cities – where the rich lived in the old city-center and the poor in the periphery, or at least within different sectors – in Rome, rich and poor, patrons and clients formed neighborhoods organized along socio-vertical lines.37 Rome was delimited by its surrounding third-century Aurelian walls, and within that space the hundred or so baronial towers (casatorre) showed the urban nobility’s physical imprint on the city. James Palmer defines the Roman elites as barons (usually labeled magnificus in documentation), urban nobility (nobilis), and the popolo, usually comprising wealthy entrepreneurs, bovattieri (cattlemen) and merchants, adding that there was a certain amount of social mobility between the last two categories.38 In late medieval Rome, the residence of older, aristocratic families, named indiscriminately Palatium, domus, and accasamenta, formed islands that included gardens, vineyards, ovens, a tower, and a piazza. They most often settled along the Via Papalis – today’s Corso Vittorio Emanuele II that runs from the Tiber to the Capitoline Hill via the Largo Argentina, as well as Piazza Venezia. This was the route of the papal Possesso and processions that visited markers of Roman history such as S. Pietro, Castel Sant’Angelo, the Campidoglio, and the Laterano.39 Wealthy plebeians, bovattieri, the agricultural entrepreneurs who made the late medieval Roman bourgeoisie, and merchants resided within the bends of the Tiber, Castel S. Angelo, Campitelli, Regola, Pigna, Sant’Eustachio, and Monti.40 Since the eleventh century, baronial settlements clustered around fortresses that controlled space and people. At their highest numbers, some 318 towers graced the Roman urban landscape. One of the oldest successful families, the Pierleoni, occupied the Theater 36

Wickham, Medieval Rome, 118. Krautheimer, Rome, Profile of a City, 311–26. See also the series of essays by Enrico Guidoni, L’urbanistica di Roma tra miti e progetti (Bari: Laterza, 1990). 38 James A. Palmer, “Piety and Social Distinction in Late Medieval Roman Peacemaking,” Speculum 89 (2014): 994, 997. Sandro Carocci is the specialist of this Roman nobility. See, for example, Sandro Carocci, Baroni di Roma: Dominazioni signorili e lignaggi aristocratici nel Duecento e nel primo Trecento (Rome: École française de Rome, 1993); La mobilità sociale nel medioevo (Rome: École française de Rome, 2010); Il nepotismo nel medioevo: Papi, cardinali e famiglie nobili (Rome: Viella, 2010); La nobiltà romana nel Medioevo (Rome: École française de Rome, 2006); Alberto Di Santo and Sandro Carocci, Monumenti antichi fortezze medievali il riutilizzo degli antichi monumenti nell’edilizia aristocratica di Roma, VIII – XIV secolo (Rome: Libreria dello stato, Istituto Poligrafico e Zecca, 2010). For a detailed study of the bovattieri, the wealthy cattlemen, see Clara Gennaro, “Mercanti e bovattieri nella Roma della seconda metà del Trecento,” Bullettino dell’Istituto storico italiano per il Medioevo e Archivio Muratoriano 78 (1967): 155–203; Isa Lori Sanfilippo, La Roma dei romani: Arti, mestieri e professioni nella Roma del Trecento (Rome: Istituto storico italiano per il medioevo, 2001). 39 Valeria Cafà, “The Via Papalis in Early Cinquecento Rome: A Contested Space between Roman Families and Curials,” Urban History 37 (2010): 434–37. For the role of the Laterano during the Possesso, see Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, The Pope’s Body, trans. David S. Peterson (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000), 21–22, 31, 34, 40–53. 40 Maria Antonietta Visceglia, “Identità urbana, rituali civici e spazio pubblico a Roma tra Rinascimento e Controriforma,” paper presented at Urbs: Concepts and realities of public space / Concetti e realtà dello spazio pubblico, tenutosi presso l’Istituto Olandese di Roma il 24 aprile 2003, available at http:// dprs.uniroma1.it/sites/default/files/visceglia.pdf (accessed on February 21, 2021), here at page 2. 37

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240 l rome during the schism of Marcellus. They represented the Guelf faction and were eventually replaced by the Savelli who additionally controlled the Aventine. The Frangipani represented the Ghibelline and occupied the Palatinus/Septizodium areas and the Turris Chartularia; eventually they also fell to the Savelli and Annibaldi. The Conti had the Forum of Nerva and the Viminalis. The two longest-lasting families were the Colonna and Orsini. The Colonna held the Mausoleum of Augustus, and fortresses on the Montecitorio and near the church of SS. Apostoli. The Orsini, who with Nicholas III (1277–1280) had the first pope who chose the Vaticano for residence, controlled, to no surprise, the area of S. Pietro and the Vaticano and created the Palacium novum.41 They also held several fortresses on the Campo Marzio.42 By the end of the century, during Boniface IX’s reign, the baronial layout had changed little. The Orsini controlled the busiest section of the city, closest to the Vaticano and linked directly to the Via Papalis. The area comprised the Monte Giordano, Theater of Pompey, Campo di Fiori, and the Torre di Nona at the Ponte Sant’Angelo. The Monte Citorio and Mausoleum of Augustus were in Colonna’s hands, the island of the Tiber and part of Sant’Angelo’s area in the Caetani’s hands providing them access to both city and Trastevere. The Savelli were on the Aventinus, their fortress over the ruins of the Theater of Marcellus. All in all, enemies of the pope (Colonna, Caetani, Savelli) controlled the city’s north and south. On the other side of the Capitoline immunity district, the Conti held Trajan’s Market with their Torre delle Milizie, and their Torre de Conti at the Forum of Nerva.43

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hree entities marked the early political history of medieval Rome: barons, popes, and the Commune. There is little debate that barons had the upper hand for the longest time. Chris Wickham has made this dominance organic to the city. He states: The reason why all this matters here is that the size of Rome changed the quality of Roman politics . . .. The Roman aristocracy’s divisions and conflicts, the consuetudo maligna of Benedict of Monte Soratte, was what puzzled and appalled outsiders and some insiders too.

41

42

43

But other popes, such as Boniface VIII, chose to return to the Laterano. See Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, “Il giubileo di Bonifacio VIII,” in La storia dei giubilei, 1300–1423, ed. Jacques Le Goff, Claudio Strinato, and Gloria Fossi (Rome: BNL, 1997), 169. See Magnuson, The Urban Transformation of Medieval Rome, 99–124. Regarding the Colonna and Orsini families, see Andreas Rehberg, Kirche und Macht im römischen Trecento: Die Colonna und ihre Klientel auf dem kurialen Pfründenmarkt (1278–1378) (Tübingen: Max Niemeyer, 1999); “Le ricadute del Grande Scisma per la vita culturale del baronato romano: Il caso dei Colonna,” in La linea d’ombra: Roma 1378–1417, ed. Walter Angelelli and Serena Romano (Rome: Viella, 2019), 75–88; Franca Alegrezza, Organizzazione del potere e dinamiche familiari: Gli Orsini dal Duecento agli inizi del Quattrocento (Rome: Istituto storico italiano per il Medio Evo, 1998); Dario Internullo, “ Nobilità romana e cultura all’epoca del Grande Scisma: Consumi, produzioni ecommittenze in casa Orsini,” in La linea d’ombra: Roma 1378–1417, ed. Walter Angelelli and Serena Romano (Rome: Viella, 2019), 53–74. Esch, Bonifaz IX., 212–13.

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Trecento Rome k 241 But this was an inevitable consequence of the size and complexity of the aristocracy itself, which simply could not be found elsewhere in the urban centers of Latin Europe. The city of Rome alone had enough people, and thus enough aristocrats, to provide an absorbing political environment, expressed simply through urban rivalry.44

Roman aristocracy and papacy were naturally connected through the papal electoral system. Cardinals who formed the electoral College most often came from the Roman nobility and brought their often-fractured politics to the papal nomination system, if not the papacy itself.45 Still, under the rules of thirteenth-century popes, Innocent III (1198–1216), Honorius III (1216–1227), and Boniface VIII (1294–1303), Rome grew into a true capital. Within this timeframe, a Bolognese aristocrat Brancaleone di Andalò became podestà, empowered by the Roman Commune to stop baronial chaos. He tamed the city’s patricians and granted its citizenry certain rights. In doing so, he managed to raise the city economically and politically.46 In 1143, Romans formed a Commune with a Senate, whose composition, number, and status varied over decades. When the pope left Rome, a vicar usually supervised the spiritual patriarchate while the Commune dealt with temporal matters. The Commune controlled a contado made up of a varying number of smaller cities (Corneto, Viterbo, Vetralla, Amelia, Sutri) that owed a Grascia (food tax) that helped in provisioning Rome and sent fighting men when necessary.47 Over its history, the Commune fought popes, emperors, and barons to enfranchise itself and reached its peak in the late 1340s. The Senate held court at the Capitolio in an old Palazzo del Senatore that was eventually rebuilt and finished in the early 1300s.48 It was located near the church of S. Maria in Aracoeli or S. Maria in Capitolio with its new imposing stairs (1348), now oriented with its back walls away from the forum and its “Laterano” orientation. Pascal Montaubin underscores the performative aspects of Roman politics. He states, “remodeled and decorated, the capital’s urban space served as a theater to public papal ceremonies, according to a double imperative: the faithful abided to the pastoral education delivered by their bishop, and the temporal lord had also to demonstrate regularly its symbolic authority.”49 Ritual, to a large extent, regulated the relations between the papacy, Rome, and its Commune. Chris Wickham and Pascal Montaubin have recently

Chris Wickham, “The Romans according to Their Malign Custom: Rome in Italy in the Late Ninth and Tenth Centuries,” in Early Medieval Rome and the Christian West: Essays in Honour of Donald A. Bullough, ed. Julia M. H. Smith (Leiden: Boston, 2000), 164–65. For early medieval Rome, see Robert Brentano, Rome before Avignon; Hubert, Espace urbain et habitat à Rome; and Wickham, Medieval Rome. 45 On the evolution of the papal electoral system, see Joëlle Rollo-Koster, Raiding Saint Peter: Empty Sees, Violence, and the Initiation of the Great Western Schism (1378) (Leiden: Brill, 2008), 19–106. 46 On Brancaleone, see Girolamo Giuliani, Il comune di Roma sotto il senatorato di Brancaleone degli Andalò (1252–1258) (Florence: R. Noccioli, 1957). 47 See Carola M. Small, “The District of Rome in the Early Fourteenth Century, 1300 to 1347,” Canadian Journal of History/Annales canadiennes d’histoire 16 (1981): 193–213. 48 See Krautheimer, Rome, 206–7. 49 Pascal Montaubin, “De l’an mil à la Renaissance: De qui donc Rome fut-elle la capitale?,” in Actes des congrès de la Société des historiens médiévistes de l’enseignement supérieur public, 36ᵉ congrès, Istanbul, 2005: Les villes capitales au Moyen Age (Paris: Publications de la Sorbonne, 2006), 402. 44

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242 l rome during the schism synthesized the most important markers of medieval Roman ritual.50 Wickham emphasizes that regardless of its many divisions, regiones, and rioni, ritual presented “the coherence of the city as a political, ideological, even geographical unit.”51 He underscores the performativity of this unity, constructed through ceremonials and “regular” practice.52 Rome however differed from many other cities because its ritual ignored its walls. Wickham adds, But Rome was so big that its walls did not have to come into play in its normal ritual life. And, one is tempted to say, Rome was so self-absorbed that ritual protection may have seemed less relevant. Instead, the issue was internal structuration and unification, both religious (the joining together of relatively distant sacred spaces) and collective, involving both the ecclesiastical and the lay members of urban society; this is something that Roman ceremonial was amply concerned with.53

In the earlier period, papal corteges and processions exalted the pope’s spiritual and temporal sovereignty over Rome. The pope participated almost daily in stational liturgies that visited the city’s churches and streets (from the Laterano to S. Pietro, or S. Maria Maggiore, S. Croce in Gerusalemme, S. Stefano Rotondo, S. Lorenzo fuori le Mura, S. Adriano in Foro, S. Sabina, etc.). It is during these processions that the pope eventually displayed his papal tiara – rather than his miter – to emphasize the universality of his office. Starting with the eleventh century, the care with which chroniclers of the papacy detailed these ceremonies demonstrates their willingness to construct a more encompassing image of papal authority and legitimacy.54 After the twelfth century, ceremonies emphasizing papal presence symbolized the pope’s universality in, for example, accession ceremonies, papal enthronements, and coronations. The evolving international character of the Church during the thirteenth century, and the curia’s frequent movement, led to the development of ceremonial ordines. As we saw previously, these ordines were scripted, recording the papal Roman customs. Processions that iterated within and outside Rome became a tool for political communication symbolizing papal authority and divine order. By the thirteenth century, the coronation of a new pope became one the curia’s most obvious emphases of the pope’s sovereignty over the city. Traditional ritual called for bringing the elected to the Laterano where he took possession of his cathedral and palace. The following Sunday, the pope traveled to S. Pietro to be consecrated or simply blessed, received the pallium, was enthroned on the chair of S. Pietro, and then crowned with the papal tiara on the steps of the basilica. Thus crowned, he returned to the Laterano, parading through the city. The cavalcade’s order was the result of negotiations between the various 50

51 52 53 54

Wickham, Medieval Rome, 321–84. The chapter outlines “The Geography of Ritual and Identity.” See also “Map 9. Some processions in Rome, c. 1140,” xxviii; and Pascal Montaubin, “Pater urbis et orbis: Les cortèges pontificaux dans la Rome médiévale (viiie–xive siècles),” Rivista di storia della Chiesa in Italia 63 (2009): 9–47. See also Alain Boureau, “Vel sedens, vel transiens: La création d’un espace pontifical au XIème et XIIème siècles,” in Luoghi sacri e spazi della santità, ed. Sofia Boesch Gasano and Lucette Scaraffia (Turin: Rosenberg & Sellier, 1990), 367–79. Wickham, Medieval Rome, 321. Wickham, Medieval Rome, 321. Wickham, Medieval Rome, 335. For the central Middle Ages, see Wickham, Medieval Rome, 321–84.

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Trecento Rome k 243 Roman parties: clerics and laymen, papal family, and curial administration and social elite of the city. Nevertheless, it needed to show ideal political order. The pope, star of the show, arrived last. It bears emphasizing that the Roman aristocracy, the nobility of the old senate, and the members of the new communal elite were absent from the occasion. The Capitolio, siege of the Commune, was avoided during the parade. This state of affairs reflected the political tensions between pope and Commune over the city’s lordship. Montaubin argues that in general, The cortege, as part of a complex ritual, is a form of nonverbal and dynamic propaganda, rich in symbolism. It makes visible and concrete the abstract notion of authority, creating on earth the reflection of the divine order. It testifies to the ever renewed capacities of the papacy to recover elements of the imperial Roman ritual, via the emperor of Constantinople if not the Germanic emperor, to mix the political and religious aspects from the VIII century and more so from the XI Gregorian century, to invest the Roman and extra-Roman space, to create new relations between itself while in the process of constituting itself as universal monarchy, and the populations of Rome, and beyond those of the world.55

The Roman Commune is well-known and its study comprises a rich historiography.56 As Isa Lori Sanfilippo suggests, it is easy to understand that artisans had an interest in public order to facilitate traffic and economic expansion. In Rome, the major impediment to peace was baronial involvement. In Jean-Claude Maire Vigueur’s words, the entire history of Rome from the end of the thirteenth century may be read as a virtually uninterrupted succession of disputes, acts of aggression, brawls and out and out battles between the two most important families of the baronial nobility, each abetted by their allies and clients. In these years the novelty, or if not the novelty, the phenomenon, which is ever more clearly illuminated by our sources, was the growing involvement of the people in these factional conflicts and their contamination by the virus of discord.57

Interestingly enough, the work of historians such as James Palmer shows that these types of statements need to be moderated. Romans developed highly ritualized public peacemaking

55 56

57

Montaubin, “Pater urbis et orbis,” 43–44. I would again refer to Palmer, “Medieval and Renaissance Rome” and his The Virtues of Economy, for recent surveys. The statutes were published at the end of the nineteenth century by Camilo Re, Statuti della cittá di Roma (Rome: Tipografia della Pace, 1880). The first full-fledged scholarly studies were Emmanuel Rodoconachi, Les institutions communales de Rome sous la papauté (Paris: A. Picard, 1901); Alain de Boüard, Le régime politique et les institutions de Rome au moyen-âge, 1252–1347 (Paris: De Boccard, 1920); and Eugenio Dupré Theseider, Roma dal comune di popolo alla signoria pontificia (1252–1377) (Bologna: Cappelli, 1952). For the most recent historiography, see Maire Vigueur, The Forgotten Story; “La Felice Societas dei balestrieri e dei pavesati a Roma: Una società popolare e i suoi ufficiali,” in Scritti per Isa. Raccolta di studi offerti a Isa Lori Sanfilippo, ed. Antonella Mazzon (Rome: Istituto Storico Italiano per il Medio Evo, 2008), 1–16; and “Il comune romano,” in Storia di Roma: Roma Medievale, ed. André Vauchez (Bari: Laterza, 2001), 77–117; Paola Pavan, “Intorno agli Statuti di Roma del 1363,” Bollettino della Deputazione di storia patria per l’Umbria 112 (2015): 367–88; and Andreas Rehberg, “Roma 1360: Innocenzo VI, lo status popularis e gli statuti di Roma,” Bullettino dell’Istituto Storico Italiano per il Medio Evo 110 (2008): 237–78. Maire Vigueur, The Forgotten Story, 247.

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244 l rome during the schism to show precisely how well they managed “Good Governance” and curtailed their reputation of lawlessness.58 Jean-Claude Maire Vigueur delineates two phases in the history of the Commune. The first one ranges from the mid-thirteenth century to the fall of Cola di Rienzo’s tribunate in 1347, deeply conditioned, ironically, by the barons’ political hegemony. They refused to respect the lower social forces that had negotiated their entry into the city’s political life, but nevertheless used them when it worked to their advantage. In his treatise De regimine civitatis, the famous medieval lawyer Bartolo da Sassoferrato named his contemporary Roman Commune a “monstrous thing,” because of constant baronial involvement and infighting.59 The second phase ranges from 1347 to the end of the Commune in 1398. It was characterized by a coalition of the urban nobility that managed to eliminate baronial families from the political scene.60 The popular Commune of the late 1350s and early 1360s ended baronial political hegemony over the Roman Senate. Statistics can give an idea of the latter’s political involvement. According to Sandro Carocci, between 1230 and 1358, the Orsini held the senatorial office fifty times; the Annibaldi, twenty-eight; the Colonna, twenty-four; the Conti, seventeen; and the Savelli, fifteen, leaving some thirty seats to other members of the nobility.61 In March 1358, seven new magistrates, the reformatores rei publicae, became the head of municipal government, along with the caporioni (chief of the rione) and guilds’ masters. They ended the barons’ control over the senatorial diarchy by decreeing that only one foreigner would now be chosen senator, usually a man from the pope’s milieu. By 1363, the city published its long and detailed statutes which covered most aspects of religious, public, and private life. They remained in place until 1469.62 In 1369, with Urban V’s return, the Commune replaced the reformatores with three conservatores; the banderesi became executors of justice; and the sotoposti became consiglieri, a move supposed to ease but not alter the previous structure. Before the initial statutes were promulgated (around 1358–1360), a citizen militia of balestrieri, armed with large shields, crossbows, and swords was created. Its origins are nebulous but seem to find some roots in Cola di Rienzo’s 1347 constitution.63 This militia, which took the name of Felice Società dei balestrieri e dei pavesati, left its imprint on the history of Trecento Rome largely because its leadership and the Commune’s became intertwined.64 The militia was divided into two batalions of 1,500 men each, commanded by two banderesi, with usually four sotoposti under their command. This infantry

See Palmer, “Piety and Social Distinction,” 974–1004; and The Virtues of Economy. Maire Vigueur, “Il Comune Romano,” 77. 60 Maire Vigueur, “Il Comune Romano,” 77. I am loosely translating Maire Vigueur’s words. 61 Sandro Carocci, “Una nobiltà bipartite: Rappresentazioni sociali e lignaggi preminenti a Roma nel Duecento e nella prima metà del Trecento,” Bullettino dell’Istituto Storico Italiano per il Medio Evo e Archivio Muratoriano 95 (1989): 27. 62 On the statutes, see Re, Statuti della città di Roma; and Rehberg, “Roma 1360,” 237–78. 63 Maire Vigueur, “La Felice Societas,” 1–3, for its creation; Musto, Apocalypse in Rome, 144, for Cola’s 1347 constitution. 64 See Sanfilippo, La Roma dei romani, 71–91. Ludovico Gatto, Storia di Roma nel Medioevo: Politica, religione, società, cultura, economia e urbanistica della città eterna tra l’avvento di Costantino e il saccheggio di Carlo 5 (Rome: Newton Compton, 1999), 472–92. The most recent historiography appears in Maire Vigueur, “La Felice Societas dei balestrieri.” 58

59

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Trecento Rome k 245 counterweighted the baronial cavalry. Constables headed companies of twenty-five men chosen from the rioni. Membership was voluntary, the men equipped by the Società, and they even may have been compensated. They swore to the political ideals of the society. The Società had several notaries and seals, which gave it the legal qualification to execute its magistracy. The banderesi’s policing and jurisdictional charges made them the security force of the city. We find them in military functions and as judges, witnesses, and arbiters in civil cases.65 Maire Vigueur identifies them mostly in cases dealing with civil, not penal justice. However, they tried and executed a certain Giovanello degli Ylperini in 1383, a noble of the Rione Monti.66 Regardless of the changes brought by the return of Urban V, the banderesi remained political chiefs who sustained a popular regime that was from its origin anti-noble, and even more so after the pope returned to Avignon. When Gregory XI was elected and made clear his intentions to return the papacy to Rome, the Commune offered him the charge of senator. They did so not to the pope, but to the “private” man, “ut privatae personae . . . non ut romano pontifici.”67 Romans had to balance their political freedom with the economic gains that a returned papacy to their city would bring. When Gregory finally returned in December 1376, Romans negotiated a sort of counterentry. I have argued that this indicates Romans’ control over their space, and their momentary “control” over the pope. On January 17, 1377, rather than adhering to the traditional adventus that proceeded from S. Pietro to the Laterano via the Via Papalis, the cortege advanced from S. Paolo Fuori le Mura via the Testaccio and Agone, to S. Pietro. The pope entered the city through the realm of carnival and inversion.68 Moreover, the carnival’s games on the Testaccio were organized around rioni, intrinsically tying them to the Commune.69 Thus, the pope crossed communal “sacred” space. Still, the pope responded symbolically. Once he entered the city, the Capitoline authorities, the executor of justice, and the four councilmen left their communal houses on the Campidoglio, kissed the pope, and returned to their own homes.70 They may have guided the papal entry through the Testaccio’s realm of carnival, but the pope was no dupe.

65

For the military aspects, see, for example, their May 27, 1387, treaty with Corneto, thanking the city for its help against the Prefetto di Vico, in Paola Supino, ed., La “Margarita Cornetana”: Regesto dei documenti (Rome: Presso la Società alla Biblioteca Vallicelliana, 1969), 375. For examples of their involvement in peacemaking, see the ledgers of Paulus de Serromanis (1359–1387), Rome, Archivio Capitalino, Notai, Sezione I, vol. 649.7, fol. 27r. (July 6, 1364). Several members of the Rione Parione make peace “prout dominis Bandarensibus placuerit.” And, in the ledger of his successor Lellus Pauli de Serromanis (1387–1398), Rome, Archivio Capitalino, Notai, Sezione I, vol. 763.1.1, fols. 4v., 19v.–21, 22, where acts are actually drafted in “domo Dominorum Banderensium” meaning that they had their own tribunal. 66 Maire Vigueur, “La Felice Societas,” 9. 67 Lori Sanfilippo, La Roma dei romani, 84. 68 See Rollo-Koster and Holstein, “Anger and Spectacle in Late Medieval Rome,” 149–74. Regarding the pope’s participation in traditional carnival celebrations, see Montaubin, “Pater urbis et orbis,” 21–22. 69 Maire Vigueur, The Forgotten Story, 120–26. 70 Lori Sanfilippo, La Roma dei romani, 84.

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246 l rome during the schism The Commune recognized the pope as its lord, and in turn he recognized the government of the banderesi, reserving for himself the right to reform it. To a large extent, the political emancipation of the Commune circa 1358–1360, in the aftermath of Cola di Rienzo’s fall, became the defining moment of the Roman Trecento. And its defining moment during the Schism was its fall in 1398. But regardless of its nominal fall, the Commune continued throughout the Schism, intricately woven with popular movements. The city’s patricians let go of their governmental main mise on the administration and politics of the city, according to James Palmer, because in 1398, After years of struggle to maintain control of the Commune, they saw clearly that they did not need to rule in order to reap the privilege and status that came with governance. At the dawn of the fifteenth century, these Roman political elites turned their backs on a traditional ideology of communal good government and positioned themselves instead as experts in the good governance of their community, willing to serve a sovereign papacy. This change in priorities paved the way for Boniface IX and for the fifteenth-century popes that followed him.71

The following argues that regardless of the fall of 1398, Romans still participated actively in the politico-cultural life of the city during the Schism, prolonging the existence of their Commune. It is this aspect that defined the Schism in Rome: The Romans’ willingness to voice their opinion, maneuver and control events, and co-opt papal space and rituals. The Roman Commune performed; the Schism enabled Romans their own constitutive political experience.

The Beginning of the Schism

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regory XI died shortly after his return to the city, and the Roman election of Urban VI in 1378 is discussed in the first chapter. In the end, the Romans relished their 1378 success: Urban VI was indeed an Italian if not a Roman, and the papacy was back within their walls. But what were their relations with the returned papacy, and did the Schism alter in any way rapports between papacy and Commune? Isa Lori Sanfilippo concedes Rome faced political chaos in 1378. The nobility wanted to control the banderesi government, Florentines were attempting to push Romans to rebel against the pope, and the prefect of Vico reappeared. The prefect of Vico, an early medieval imperial officer (Praefecti Urbis), was held by a single family between the tenth century and 1435. It was usually anti-papal, and its holders frequently attempted to usurp lands from the Papal States.72 Lori Sanfilippo agrees that as the Schism divided Christianity, it also divided Rome. In Italy, papal obedience varied from year to year according to personal interest and the politics of the time. In general, the city’s entrance

71 72

Palmer, “Medieval and Renaissance Rome,” 7. See Carlo Calisse, “I Prefetti di Vico,” Archivio della R. Societá Romana di storia patria 10 (1888): 1–136, 353–94.

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The Beginning of the Schism k 247 from the Lazio to the west, Marino, lands of the Caetani to the south, the Prefect of Vico, and most mercenary companies were Clementist.73 The curia was urbanist as was the communal government. She leaves it at that.74 In order to appraise the influence this crisis could have had on the internal life of the city, it is necessary to emphasize again the ambivalence that the Romans held toward the returned papacy. Margaret Harvey states it best: “There was no reason to suppose that relations would be harmonious between those already in Rome and those arriving with the papal court, whatever their nationality. Their interests were too different.”75 In July 1378, according to Thomaso de Acerno, a month or so before the election of Clement VII in Fondi, some of the cardinals indicated their hostility toward the newly elected Urban VI by calling in their Briton and Gascon mercenaries. They met Roman guards, no doubt members of the banderesi army, at Ponte Salario. The Gascons overwhelmed them, but one escaped and alerted the city, which sent several troops for reinforcement. Some 300 bonos romanos were slaughtered and others captured.76 Romans showed their support for the pope with their blood. Roman day-to-day affairs benefited from the returned papacy. Internal issues that in past generations had necessitated months of traveling, petitioning, and expenses could now be adjudicated locally and quickly. The few registers left by Urban VI’s administration show papal correspondence directed toward what could be labeled somewhat mundane Roman issues. Patrick Zutschi has edited two of these letters dated June 1378, dealing with St Peter’s, Rome, 17 June 1378. Order – in response to a petition from Gorius Angeli Ferrarii and the citizens of Segni, stating that Gorius and four asses have been unjustly arrested in Rome on the pretext of non-payment of the hearth and salt taxes – to Thomas de S. Severino, senator of Rome, that, if this be so, he should cause Gorius and the asses to be released. (AAV, Reg. Av. 182, fol. 40v.)

73

74 75

76

No better example can be found than the chronicle of Martin de Alpartil, the staunch supporter of Benedict XIII, who recalls embassies sent to Giovanni de Vico, and the various treaties they drafted with the Romans, to hand Civitavecchia to the Clementist obedience. See, for a 1396 example, Martin de Alpartil, Cronica actitatorum temporibus Benedicti XIII Pape, ed. and trans. Jose Angel Sesma Mufioz and Maria del Mar Agudo Romeo (Zaragoza: Gobierno de Aragon, 1994), 22. Alpartil adds on the same page that the Romans “loved” Pedro de Luna so much, when he was a cardinal there, that they never destroyed his coat of arms – as was traditionally done – and actually fixed it at night if it were destroyed: “ostenderunt sibi semper affeccionem magnam, quia non permiserunt arma sive signa sua destrui, sicut fuerunt signa et arma omnium aliorum cardinalium destructa et sublata, ymo quia aliqualiter semel fuerunt de nocte per aliquos maliciose deturpata, Romani fecerunt ea de novo reparari, et sic fuerunt semper ex tune custodita, et eciam creditur / traditur/ quod sint hodie.” Sanfilippo, La Roma dei romani, 85. Margaret Harvey, The English in Rome 1362–1460: Portrait of an Expatriate Community (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), 31. Her two introductory chapters, even though focused on English presence, offer a good overview of the Roman situation (see pages 10–54). “Coeperunt facere occulte conspirationes contra Dominum Papam”; Thoma de Acerno, “De creation Urbani VI,” in Rerum italicarum scriptores, vol. 3, part. 2, ed. Ludovico Antonio Muratori (Milan, 1734), 726.

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248 l rome during the schism and St Peter’s, Rome, 9 June 1378. Order to the same to hear a case between Andreas de Montanea, layman of the diocese of Marsi, and Isabella his wife, Johanna daughter of Mathucius de Branchaleonibus and Lippa daughter of Cola de Marerio, dwelling at Rome, on the one hand, and Lucas de Sabella, domicellus of Rome, on the other, who is said unlawfully to have occupied the three quarters share in the castle of Rocca Sinibalda belonging to Isabella, Johanna and Lippa. (AAV, Reg. Av. 182, fol. 40v.)77

These sum up some of the advantages of living in a papal capital and seeing justice done. Over the summer, Urban moved to Tivoli, only to be abandoned by his court and most of his cardinals, who moved to Fondi, where they elected Robert of Geneva in September. When Urban returned to Rome in September 1378, Castel Sant’Angelo was still unavailable to him, as it was controlled by the French Clementist party.78 Urban resided first on the Forum at S. Maria Nova and then moved to S. Maria in Trastevere.79 Urban’s move to the Trastevere is an interesting one. While the Trastevere may have been somewhat marginalized, Urban knew that he would find support in this neighborhood.80 Many of its inhabitants had put pressure on the cardinals to elect a Roman or an Italian pope. Convinced that the Trasteverians knew what they were doing, they yelled during the pseudo-election of cardinal Tebaldeschi, “Modo sumus divites! (Now we are rich!)”81 This did not stop them from being devoted to their political independence. The neighborhood of the Trastevere was solidly anchored in the socio-political make-up of the city, and in 1378 counted a mix of staunch supporters of the Commune, aristocrats, agricultural entrepreneurs (bovattieri), a few cardinals and their households, and common folk. The cardinals numbered four out of the sixteen present in the city in 1378: Bertrand Latgier, the cardinal of Glandèves (he was bishop of the southern French city) was titular of S. Cecilia and resided in his titulus; the cardinal of Florence, Pietro Corsini; Robert, cardinal of Geneva, the future pope Clement VII; and Jean de la Grange, the cardinal of Amiens, who arrived after Urban’s election. All resided in the Trastevere accompanied by

Patrick Zutshi, “Unpublished Fragments of the Registers of Common Letters of Pope Urban VI (1378),” in Kurie und Region: Festschrift für Brigide Schwarz zum 65. Geburtstag, ed. Brigitte Flug, Michael Matheus, Andreas Rehberg (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag, 2005), 52–53. 78 They bombarded the city from their position and destroyed a good portion of the Borgo. Gregorovius, Rome, 512. On the military efforts during the Schism, see Armand Jamme, “Prendre Rome aux temps du Grand Schisme. Méthodes et chimères,” in La linea d’ombra: Roma 1378–1420, ed. Serena Romano and Walter Angelelli (Rome: Viella, 2019), 21–39. On castel Sant’Angelo at the time, see Pio F. Pistilli, “‘Se tu vuoi mantenere lo Stato di Roma, acconzia Castiello S. Angelo.’ Bonifacio IX e il confezionamento della Mole Adriana a presidio urbano,” in La linea d’ombra: Roma 1378–1420, ed. Serena Romano and Walter Angelelli (Rome: Viella, 2019), 177–89. 79 Gregorovius, Rome, 508. 80 For example, barons of the region could not hold senatorial offices. See Palmer, The Virtues of Economy, 47. 81 Rehberg, “Il rione Trastevere,” 302. 77

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The Beginning of the Schism k 249 their familia or households.82 Their neighbors were communal hard-liners such as Paolo Jocii, the caporioni of the district, and a mix of the political elite: bovattieri and aristocrats from the Anguillora, Stefaneschi, and Frangipane families. To those we can add foreign curialists, common people, and the students who attended the Studium Urbis.83 The ultimate evidence that the Trastevere was integrated in the city surfaced when soldiers were dispatched, in April 1378, to the busiest and most conspicuous districts of the city to keep order. Scaffolds were erected to deter electoral violence as the soldiers spread through S. Pietro’s Square, Campo di Fiori, Piazza Colonna, the Capitoline Hill, and the Trastevere.84 Urban and Clement fought, but eventually Urban won freedom of movement around Rome, and soon Italy as well. Then he hired the famous company of Alberigo de Barbiano and his Italians (The Company of St. George), which defeated the French at the Battle of San Marino in April 1379. Castel Sant’Angelo surrendered almost immediately. The Romans seized the fort and largely destroyed it.85 We must pause here and question this fury. For decades, Castel Sant’Angelo had been reduced to a baronial fort controlled by the Orsini family. Still in the hands of the Orsini in 1326, it later passed to the Commune in 1367, which ceded it to Pope Urban V upon his return in 1368.86 While the curia understood its importance to Rome and the Vatican defense, it had difficulties controlling the fort. At the death of Gregory XI, Pierre Gandelin and the much-experienced military officer Pierre Rostaing headed its guard. The pope counted on them to protect within its walls any French cardinals at risk from a popular insurrection, while Camerlengo Pierre de Cros kept the papal treasure safely inside.87 After the election of Urban VI, Castel Sant’Angelo was attacked by the Romans. But the French bastion defended it well, aiming its canons at the Borgo and causing much damage. The long siege continued into 1379, while Clement VII attempted to control Rome, supported by the Orsini family, the prefect of Vico, and Onorato Caetani.88 After the defeat of San Marino, however, the French defending troops immediately surrendered to Urban VI on April 30. Dietrich of Nieheim notes that the castle held many wide tunnels and that the Romans had been plundering its material for a long time, like an open quarry.89 Nevertheless, the following day, the Romans entered by force and attempted to destroy it. The first papal military victory actually became the first contest with the Roman Commune. It was essential for the pope to access the Vaticano; the Ponte Sant’Angelo

82

83 84 85 86

87

88 89

Rehberg, “Il rione Trastevere,” 258–69. See also Robert E. Lerner, “Alfonso Pecha’s Treatise on the Origins of the Great Schism: What an Insider ‘Saw and Heard,’” Traditio 72 (2017): 421. Rehberg, “Il rione Trastevere,” 269–89. Rehberg, “Il rione Trastevere,” 273–74. Gregorovius, Rome, 517. Pistilli, “Se tu vuoi mantenere lo Stato di Roma, acconzia Castiello S. Angelo,” 179; and Pio Pagliucchi, I castellani del Castel S. Angelo di Roma: Con documenti inediti relativi alla storia della Mole Adriana tolti dall’archivio segreto vaticano e da altri archive (Roma: Polizzi & Valentini, 1906), 13–25. Pagliucchi, I castellani del Castel S. Angelo di Roma, 36. The details are provided by Nieheim. See Dietrich von Nieheim, Theoderici de Nyem’s De scismate libri tres, ed. Georgius Erler (Leipzieg: Veit, 1890), 30–31. Pagliucchi, I castellani del Castel S. Angelo di Roma, 39–41 Von Nieheim, Theoderici de Nyem De scismate libri tres, 38–39.

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250 l rome during the schism with its fortress were of course its main point of entry. But the Commune also wanted to control the Ponte Sant’Angelo; it was relentless in its decision. While the banderesi were willing to spill blood for the pope, they were not willing to let their political hold go. Written on April 30, 1379, a letter from a papal scribe to the Commune of Montefiascone clarifies the episode. The scribe lets his readers know that the fortress was returned to the populo Romano, and not the pope. The wording shows a strong Roman determination. The Romans had refused to hold the castle in the name of the pope because they wanted it for themselves. After deliberation, they entered it with their banners, taking control and destroying it. Dietrich of Nieheim notes that it was nearly indestructible.90 The Romans’ insistence underscores a reality; they were appropriating a symbol. The fortress signified papal – and baronial – authority. After all, it held the papal jail. Hoisting their banners over its walls brought communal law to one of Rome’s most symbolic locations. Furthermore, the stones of the fortress were and had been used for repairs all over the city. Given that the Romans had “spoliated” their antiquities for centuries, we could consider that the redistribution of Sant’Angelo’s stones suggested the dissemination of its power.91 Rather than being singlehandedly “whole” and representative of the “one” papal authority, the particles of Sant’Angelo’s stones and mortar were now distributed amongst the many, pro utilitate publica.92 The physical fragmentation of the fortress walls revitalized and rebuilt the political body of the city. This sentiment of domination over “tyranny” is reinforced in communal correspondence (signed by the Anteposti Super Guerris Romani Populi) with the city of Orvieto. The harmful structure (diutius Urbi noxium et infestum), the cause of Rome’s suffering (quod in ruynam dare precipitem populus Romanus incepit, ut amplius contra eum rebellare non posset), was now in safe hands.93 But yet, the Commune could not shed all papal ties. In that same letter to Orvieto, communal magistrates label the company of mercenaries at Urban’s pay nostre Societatis

90

91

92

93

Reverendissimi patres et domini mei. Noveritis quod per gratiam Yesu Xpi Castrum sancti Angeli de Urbe restitutus fuit die xxvij mensis aprilis populo Romano, et non domino nostro; ita quod dominus noster volebat euro et ut per eum custodiretur. Populus vero Romanus noluit sibi dare; quoniam in totum volebant euro deponere. Et de hoc factum fuit consilium per eos, in quo octentum fuit, quod dominus noster non haberet, immo totaliter deponeretur. Et in hoc tractatu steterunt usque ad diem ultimum predicti mensis. Die vero ultimo dicti mensis, scilicet die sabati in mane intraverunt in dicto Castro curo vesillis eorum et inceperunt eum totaliter deponere. Alia nova ad presens non sunt rescribenda. Luigi Fumi, “Notizie officiali sulla battaglia di Marino dell’anno 1379,” Studi e Documenti di Storia e Diritto 7 (1886): 9; Von Nieheim, Theoderici de Nyem’s De scismate libri tres, 39. For a discussion of spoliae, see, for example, Richard Brilliant and Dale Kinney, Reuse Value: Spolia and Appropriation in Art and Architecture from Constantine to Sherrie Levine (Farnham: Ashgate, 2011); and Rollo-Koster, Raiding Saint Peter, 107–18. Dietrich of Nieheim states, “Romani muros eius es quadratis lapidibus marmoreis albissimis valde magne compositos, et etiam muros archis seu carceris dicti castri ex similibus lapidibus factos diruerunt, et longo tempore ex eisdem lapidibus calcem coxerunt, pro utilitate publica illam volentibus vendiderunt et de minutis lapidibus dicti castri plateas in ipsa urbe in diversis locis reformaverunt. Tamen dictum castrum non potuerunt omnino destruere.” Von Nieheim, Theoderici de Nyem: De scismate libri tres, 38–39. Fumi, “Notizie officiali sulla battaglia di Marino,” 9–10.

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The Commune during the Early Years of the Schism k 251 Ytalice sancti Georgii.94 In victory, regardless of their issue with Sant’Angelo, the Commune identified with the pope. In another missive, sent by a Sienese ambassador, the author remarks that the fighters of Marino were in the service of both pope and Commune (servizio del santo Padre e del popolo di Roma), clearly underscoring that pope and Commune were allies.95 Thus, the Romans had a hard time delimiting a space for themselves with the newly returned papacy. They rejected and embraced the pope at once. Furthermore, in the aftermath of Marino, according to the Annales ecclesiastici and Catherine of Siena, the Romans, manipulated by “foreigners and schismatics,” tried to kill the pope and commit “patricide.” They attacked the Vaticano and were greeted with open doors by an enthroned Urban VI, staring down his assailants.96 Ambivalence rulled and Romans hesitated between rejecting and accepting the papal presence.

The Commune during the Early Years of the Schism

T

he events surrounding the Battle of Marino closed the direct confrontation between both popes. Clement found refuge in Naples, from where he was expelled by a popular revolt. He was back in Avignon in June 1379. In reprisal for her involvement with the Clementists, Urban deposed Joanna of Naples in April 1380, naming Charles of Durazzo of the Angevin/Hungarian line her replacement. His nomination initiated the Durazzos’ involvement in the history of the city during the Schism. But first of all, Charles needed to receive his title and conquer his new kingdom. He entered Rome on November 11, 1380, to such effect. The pope named him senator, crowning him king of Jerusalem and Naples.97 A letter sent by Francesco da Castiglionchio to his father describes the coronation. It also demonstrates how the Romans performed, infiltrating papal ritual.98 Charles was crowned king of Jerusalem on Saturday June 1, 1381, in the grand chapel of S. Pietro. He promised to reconquer the Holy Land and fight the Schism. But things were not that simple. In exchange for the church’s banner, Urban required a prize for his nephew, Francesco Prignano, alias Butillo.99 Lapo, Charles’s negotiator, strove to reach an agreement with the pope’s team (the cardinals of Padua, Rieti, Santo Cinato, Santo Giugno, and Pietramala). According to an abbot from Florence, the pope asked for things that would be “prejudicial and detrimental to the king, and no small things for the king and his heirs.”100 A settlement was eventually reached. Butillo (Francesco Prignano) received the titles of “prince, duke and marquis, of Capua, Melfi, and other lands.”101

Fumi, “Notizie officiali sulla battaglia di Marino,” 9–10. Fumi, “Notizie officiali sulla battaglia di Marino,” 10. 96 Baronio, Annales, 26: 368. 97 The bull of investiture is found in Baronio, Annales, 26: 398. 98 Lorenzo Mehus, Epistola o sia ragionamento di Messer Lapo da Castiglionchio (Bologna: Girolamo Corciolani, 1753), 149–55. 99 See Emanuele Catone, “Prignano, Francesco, detto Butillo,” Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani (2016), www.treccani.it/enciclopedia/prignano-francesco-detto-butillo_%28Dizionario-Biografico %29/ (accessed on February 22, 2021) 100 Mehus, Epistola, 150. 101 Mehus, Epistola, 151. 94 95

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252 l rome during the schism On the day of his coronation, with all the Roman people attending, “presente tutto il popolo” a cavalcade advertised the event.102 After mass, it proceeded from S. Pietro to Castel Sant’Angelo and back: “the pope rode with the king under the pavilion (padiglione) and the king rode dressed in purple, the crown on his head, the golden staff with the lily in one hand, and a golden ball in the other.”103 It is notable that the ceremony touched on Castel Sant’Angelo, a location still in Romans’ hands, as yet to be controlled by the pope. Here again, the Romans were inserting themselves in both papal and royal protocol. The Romans stayed involved in all future iterations of the ceremony. The following Saturday morning, the king met the pope at S. Pietro, accompanied by all the cardinals, courtiers, and the majority of the people of Rome. The pope delivered di sua bocca, a sermon in praise of the king that lasted two hours, and he blessed his companions.104 His attendants who would serve in battle were granted a remission of sin and all the privileges of crusaders. Once the crusade was declared (bandita la croce), the king and all participants received the red cross on their chest.105 The pope offered the king the sign of victory, a golden ax, and finally blessed him. For Charles, the reconquest of Naples from the Clementists initiated his crusade, as well as the reconquest of his Kingdom of Jerusalem. A few days later, the king left the city in triumph, interestingly enough associating the city’s militia to his endeavor. “He proclaimed to the whole world that whomever had horses (even nags since he uses the words cavalli orrevoli), or arms, should escort him outside the gate . . .. And the cardinals accompanied him, and the signori of Rome and all the courtiers and people with horses and they left from the pope’s palace.”106 The procession ranks consisted first of Neapolitans and other families, with soldiers on the perimeters, then the cardinals, signori of Rome, and the king on a powerful horse.107 Here the Romans infiltrated the entire procession, buffering without out-staging the king. Once at the gate, many took their leave but “around a thousand gentlemen of Rome escorted him till night.”108 To a certain extent, the previous events freed Rome of the pope, who left the city to involve himself with Neapolitan affairs. Freed from the pope, the Commune returned to the business of governing. Ferdinand Gregorovius lists the communal officials who ruled during Urban’s absence, evidence of its regained independence.109 Between April 1383 and September 1388, while the pope traveled to Nocera, Genoa, Lucca, and Perugia, the people of Rome focused on Francesco di Vico, the Prefetto, and his incessant depredations of areas

102

Mehus, Epistola, 151. Mehus, Epistola, 152. 104 Mehus, Epistola, 152. 105 Mehus, Epistola, 153. 106 Mehus, Epistola, 153. Specifying all types of horses automatically included the barons, who of course rode destriers, but also absolutely anyone who owned a horse in whatever shape or form. This was of course an additional snub to the barons. Arnold Esch remarks that according to contemporary typology milites and not barons formed the cavallorocti; these were wealthy citizens who participated in the militia. Arnold Esch, “La fine del libero comune di Roma nel giudizio dei mercanti fiorentini: Lettere romane degli anni 1395–1398 nell’archivio Datini,” Bollettino dell’Istituto storico italiano per il Medio Evo e Archivio Muratoriano (1976–1977): 247. 107 Mehus, Epistola, 153. 108 Mehus, Epistola, 154. 109 Gregorovius, Rome, 537–38. 103

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The Commune during the Early Years of the Schism k 253 surrounding Rome.110 But the tide turned when Francesco died on May 8, 1387, by the hands of rebellious Viterbese. The banderesi subsequently formally thanked the Cornetans who had supported them in the fight.111 Eventually, with Rome’s surrounding contado pacified, Urban returned to his city. He was well-received according to Gregorovius, but Pierre Ameil’s ceremonial qualifies his reception differently. The pope angered the Romans when he decided to name a senator to replace communal governance. The city revolted and the banderesi were excommunicated. According to Ameil, on the Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul in S. Pietro (June 29, 1389), the pope officiated from the altar and withdrew afterward. The banderenses antique (thus they had been demoted) approached the altar in a posture of submission and were absolved, not by the pope but by the Grand Penitentiary, the Dominican cardinal Nicolas Misquino. The banderesi had previously walked from the Capitolio to S. Pietro, barefoot, heads uncovered, wearing only a single jupon, a rope around their necks and a candle in hand – a position of pittura infamante.112 This description is edifying. But one has to wonder about the sincerity of the banderesi’s gesture – they counter-performed the pope. While they all wore the signs of infamy – the lack of shoes, hatless, the rope around their necks, the petticoat worn without armor – the route they took was significant. They walked the reverse of the most visible section of the Via Papalis (through the Roman abitato). Of course, the symbolism was clear; this was the papal route (walking from the Capitolio to S. Pietro meant walking the return route of the pope’s Possesso, and other papal festivities). Knowing the Romans’ intuitive cultural understanding of their city, this route of “amend” could also display the tyranny of the papal governance. The banderesi managed to control and reverse papal symbolism. The “return” of the Possesso, intended as a show of humbling penance, demonstrated papal abuse and aimed at instigating pity rather than anger. In this mise–en–scène, all of Rome witnessed what happened when one disobeyed the pope: one had to bow, low. Before he died in October 1389, Urban proclaimed on April 8, 1389, the bull of Jubilee (Salvator noster unigenitus) for the year 1390.113 This iteration revised Clement VI’s 1350 110

111 112

113

See Carlo Calisse, “I Prefetti di Vico,” Archivio della R. Societá Romana di storia patria 10 (1888): 353–90, for the events of Francesco’s life. See Supino, La Margarita Cornetana, 377–78. Item in sequenti festo apostolorum Petri et Pauli, papa celebrante in Sancto Petro, post ite missa est, antequam recederet ab altari, venerunt banderenses antiqui, nudi pedes a Capitolio usque ad altare sancti Petri, sine capuceis, cum corrigiis in collo et unico simplici iupone, cum candelis in manibus, petendo veniam pape quia excommunicati erant, ex eo quia noluerunt senatorem recipere quem papa posuerat. Nec papa voluit eos audire, sed commisit summo penitentiario ibidem existenti quatenus eos absolveret. Et iussu pape ascendit ad cathedram lapideam sancti Petri in capite ecclesie, stans tenendo virgam in manibus, dicendo Miserere mei Deus, etc., publice absolvit eos antequam papa discesserat de loco suo. Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 198–99. On this jubilee, see Esch, Bonifaz IX, 55–59; and “I giubilei del 1390 e del 1400,” in La storia dei giubilei, 1300–1423, ed. Jacques Le Goff, Claudio Strinato, and Gloria Fossi (Rome: BNL, 1997), 279–93; Hélène Millet, “Le grand pardon du pape (1390) et celui de l’année sainte (1400),” in L’église du grand schisme: 1378–1417, ed. Hélène Millet (Paris: Picard, 2009), 250–62; and the architectural history by Marcello Fagiolo and Maria Luisa Madonna, eds., Roma 1300–1875. Atlante (Milan: Mondadori, 1985), 80–86.

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254 l rome during the schism Unigenitus, diminishing the span separating jubilee years from 50 to 33, the length of Christ’s life on earth.114 This jubilee was a brilliant, appeasing gift to the people of Rome. As Clement VI had done in 1343 to ingratiate himself to the Roman envoys who begged him to return to Rome, the jubilee offered Romans spiritual as well as financial rewards. Arnold Esch emphasizes the difficulties faced by the energetic new pope, Boniface IX (elected on November 2, 1389) in organizing this jubilee. The city was underpopulated for sustaining the enterprise, its infrastructure obsolete, and baronial families did as they pleased. The Roman landscape had not evolved much since the beginning of the century. It was made up of largely vacant space: vineyards and fields, interrupted by churches and monasteries, surrounded by groups of habitation and small villages, the biggest of which was the Laterano, still marginalized from the abitato. In sum, 1390 Rome represented some 3 percent of what it had been in antiquity. The Via Maior that led to the Laterano was much damaged. Stories were told of wolves inside the city walls unearthing corpses in cemeteries near S. Pietro. The Churches of S. Apostoli, S. Pietro in Vincoli, and S. Anastasia were mostly damaged, and baronial families seized the material for their own fortresses.115 Consequently, Boniface had to organize the city lodging, provisioning, and security for a successful jubilee. Pilgrims received full remission of sins if they visited daily the churches of S. Pietro, the Vaticano, S. Paolo fuori le Mura, S. Giovanni in Laterano, and S. Maria Maggiore for thirty or fifteen days, depending on their citizenships (with longer visits for citizens of Rome). Aware of the many issues faced by pilgrims, the pope reduced visiting times from two weeks to one week on May 31, 1390.116 However, we can assume that even if the Clementist obedience forbade participation, the jubilee was an economic success for the people of Rome.117 Jean Juvenal des Ursins asserts that Charles VI publicly banned the French from going, specifically to prevent draining France’s financial resources, but the attraction of the “great Pardon” was too powerful.118 Dietrich of Nieheim, while acknowledging that the jubilee revived Roman economy, describes the traveling French as “pests” (et tunc etiam pestilentia incoepit vigere in urbe) who raped Roman virgins and despoiled the city.119 What is certain is that dates were malleable; pilgrims do not seem to have listened to authorities. Chronicling the Avignonese obedience from Arles, Bertrand Boysset

114 115

116

117

118

119

Baronio, Annales, 26: 485. Esch, “I giubilei del 1390 e del 1400,” 279–93. Fagiolo and Madonna, Roma 1300–1875, 84–86, itemize all architectural interventions for this jubilee, and the ones of 1400 and 1423. The Via Maggiore was described as utterly isolated and a brigands’ den. See Fagiolo, and Madonna, Roma 1300–1875, 85–86. Dietrich von Nieheim offers a glimpse of the throngs that visited, the wealth they brought, and the dangers surrounding travels. See Von Nieheim, Theoderici de Nyem De scismate libri tres, 170. On the Clementist ban, see Esch, Bonifaz IX, 55. On Clement’s prohibition see also AAV, Reg. Vat. 301, fol. 18v. The text has been transcribed by J. Vinke, “Espanya i l’ any sant al segle xiv,” Analecta sacra Tarraconensia 10 (1924): 61–73, here at 7–8. Jean Juvenal des Ursins, Histoire du roy Charles VI (Paris: Imprimerie royale, 1653), 142, mentions economic reasons for the public ban. France was much too poor at the time and traveling to Rome would deplete the country’s resources (que ce feroit grande evacuation de pecunes, veu qu’ a Rome ils tenoient l’Antipape pour Pape). Von Nieheim, Theoderici de Nyem De scismate libri tres, 170.

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The Commune during the Early Years of the Schism k 255 declares 1400 a jubilee year (perdon de Roma in his Provençal), and adds that it lasted all year. He notes that many Arlesians visited Rome, along with a large number from many other countries.120 One of the most obvious undesirable effects for the city was, as in 1350, the possibility of buying the indulgence for the cost of the trip, if risks were too high for the enterprise. The indulgence was granted, for example, to inhabitants of Subiaco, Sardinia, Corsica, then all of Europe, Scandinavia, Sicily, and Tunisia.121 If Romans felt somewhat satisfied after 1390, they soon awoke to renewed issues. A new pope was in charge. The Rome of Boniface IX and the end of the Commune are well known, especially with the work of Arnold Esch, who remains the leading historian for these years.122 Whether outplayed by the Florentines and the pope – whose goals met during these few years (a tranquil Rome benefited the Florentines financially, and the pope politically), as Esch insinuates – or simply because the Romans lost interest, the Romans gave up their dominium in July 1398. Early in his reign, the 1390 jubilee declared by Boniface’s predecessor had offered the newly elected Pietro Tomacelli a break from traditional Roman recriminations. However, after a short-lived respite, things quickly turned acrimonious. Isa Lori Sanfilippo notes that while the jubilee had been successful, it did bring Florentine ascendancy over the city, for example, with their control of provisioning.123 Exasperated by what could be considered jurisdictional “harassment” and threatening his exile from the city, the pope negotiated a treaty with the Romans on September 11, 1391, freeing the clergy from taxes, immunizing them from civic tribunals, and requiring the Commune to maintain the city’s infrastructure.124 The statutes dealt with the relationship between the followers of the Roman court (curiam romanam sequentes), the cardinals’ households (familiares commensales), and citizens, something of a leitmotif in rapports between the court wherever it settled and the citizens of its place of residence.125

120

Patrick Gautier Dalché, Marie Rose Bonnet, and Philippe Rigaud, eds., Bertrand Boysset: Chronique (Turnhout, Belgium: Brepols, 2018), 116–17. 121 Esch, “I giubilei del 1390 e del 1400,” 283. 122 See Esch, Bonifaz. IX, 209–76 (for a general narrative); 571–74 (for a review of the contemporary literature); 612–22 (for information regarding Roman magistrates during his reign); 623–37 (for a prosopography of Nobili and Populari’s parties, Roman senators, Podesta); 645–52 (for various transcriptions). See also his “La fine del libero comune di Roma nel giudizio dei Mercanti fiorentini: Lettere romane degli anni 1395–1398 nell’archivio Datini,” Bollettino dell’Istituto storico italiano per il Medio Evo e Archivio Muratoriano (1976–1977): 235–77; and “Boniface IX,” Dizionario biografico degli italiani 12 (1976): 570–81. See also Maire Vigueur, The Forgotten Story, 258–59; “Il comune romano,” 117–41; Lori Sanfilippo, La Roma dei romani, 85–91; and Gregorovius, Rome, 541–53. 123 Lori Sanfilippo, La Roma dei romani, 86. 124 The treaty gives an idea of the incivility between both groups, “ad tollenda errores et scandala, que sepissime orta sunt et oriri possent inter Romanos officiales et Curiales apostolicos.” Augustin Theiner, Codex diplomaticus dominii temporalis S. Sedis, 3 vols. (Rome: Imprimerie du Vatican, 1861–62), 3: 36. The original is also found at AAV, Reg. Vat. 312, fols. 344–46v. 125 On the status of the “followers of the Roman court,” see, Rollo-Koster, Avignon and Its Papacy, 9, 11, 121, 168, 182, 195, 204–5, 235; “Avignon’s Capitalization and the Legitimation of Transiency,” in Images and Words in Exile: Avignon and Italy in the First Half of the Fourteenth Century (ca. 1310–1352), ed. Elisa Brilli, Laura Fenelli, and Gerhard Wolf (Florence: SISMEL-Edizioni del

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256 l rome during the schism These statutes enlighten readers on expectations the pope laid on Romans. They were to repair the city’s walls and bridges, defend against French attacks (gencium Gallicarum), and harvest enough provisions for all. Boniface either purposely intended, or failed in recognizing, that the physicality of feeding and repairing the city augmented the bond between city and people, rather than turning Rome into a papal city. In any case, the statutes show the rapports between both contenders. The language is pernickety and litigious, making it clear that the benefits Romans drew from the presence of the curia were to be exchanged for their obedience and services – political freedom and economic success did not make good bedfellows. The statutes were supposed to be recorded in the registers of the Commune – evidence that this was a well-oiled and organized administration, and most of all, that they be advertised to all.126 On March 5, 1392, the pope convinced the Romans to follow the papacy in its war of reconquest of the Papal States. Keeping the banderesi and their troops preoccupied outside Rome eliminated their threat within the city. The treaty stipulated that the Romans paid all the expenses for the war against Giovanni Sciarra and the house of de Vico – the war captains, their lances, and foot soldiers (crossbowmen and sappers). In return, the Romans would gain the lands they conquered, with the exception of Viterbo, Orchio, and Cencellis ([sic], it is Civita Vecchia), which were to be handed to the Roman Church.127 While the Romans fought their wars, and again the pope (they rebelled in 1392 requesting an increase in war funding), Boniface left for Perugia and then Assisi. The pope’s return to the city became contingent on another capitulation, this time removing more powers from the Commune.128 The 1393 decree takes the form of a Roman’s supplication toward a forgiving and benevolent father, managing to emphasize Rome as true location of the papacy (pro reditu sue Sanctitatis et Curie ad dictam Urbem, in qua est propria sedes sua).129 When ready and willing to return, the pope required a company of 1,000 knights, 10,000 florins, and certain other conditions. Discussions again focused on fiscal and legal immunities for the court and its followers, but it also sapped the political independence of the Commune. The pope was at liberty to name a senator, whose autonomy was now limited, and he required fealty from the conservatores. The treaty ratified; the pope returned. But, by the end of 1393–1394, the pope faced a new banderesi rebellion. The Florentine Cronica volgare enlightens us regarding this rebellion.130 The Cronica first mentions the 1394 discomfiture of the Roman and Sienese troops after facing Briton and German mercenaries. There is no doubt that the Florentine author insists on the national and popular character of the Roman forces and their commitment to fight, while knights – Galluzzo, 2015), 259–69; and The People of Curial Avignon (Lampeter; Lewinston: The Edwin Mellen Press, 2009). 126 “Item quod predicta omnia ponantur et scribantur in libris, seu registris Communitatis per modum decreti seu statuti vel reformacionis, prout est consuetum. Acta, facta, firmata, stipulata et vulgarizata fuerunt per supradictos dominos Conservatores et Bandarenses.” Theiner, Codex diplomaticus, 3: 36. 127 Theiner, Codex diplomaticus, 3: 46. 128 Theiner, Codex diplomaticus, 3: 78–81. 129 Theiner, Codex diplomaticus, 3: 79. 130 Cronica volgare di Anonimo Fiorentino dall’ anno 1385 al 1409 già attribuita a Piero di Giovanni Minerbetti, ed. Elina Bellondi (Città di Castello: S. Lapi, 1915–1918).

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The Commune during the Early Years of the Schism k 257 thus the baronial class – fled.131 The following May, still according to him, an ugly episode, which had started as a minor incident (di non molto gravi cose), grew into a full banderesi revolt against the pope. This time the presence in the city of King Ladislaus saved the day. The king was in Rome to petition the pope for his marital dispensation.132 Pierre Ameil, in his ordo recorded Ladislaus’s adventus, on Saturday, April 18, 1394, on Easter’s vigil. The king entered via S. Paolo, where he was met by all cardinals and Romans who escorted him up to S. Pietro’s stairs. Ameil describes the order of the procession with two cardinaldeacons preceding the riding banderesi, who themselves preceded the king directly, their banners flying high.133 The Roman had acquired a place of great prominence. The Cronica volgare suggests that Ladislaus protected the pope and negotiated peace between both parties.134 The Florentine condottiere Paolo Orsini (of the Orsini di Gallese branch) was also available to support the pope.135 However, events were not as simple as the chronicler makes them appear. From the early 1390s on, the traditional baronial parties had resurfaced around popular leaders such as Pietro Mattuzzi, an important merchant, in relations with the great Florentine companies.136 The city was again divided between Colonna and Orsini, who were taking turns on the Campidoglio. The 1394 nomination of Mattuzzi as head of the populari led to heightened agitation. Pietro Mattuzzi followed the Orsini, while the “nobles” under Pietro Sabba Giuliani, Pietro Cenci, and Natolo of Buccio Natoli followed the Colonna. Both parties were more or less hostile to each other, and to papal government; and both were in commercial relations with Florence. Both were composed of the merchant nobility, including trade in livestock, with various degrees of financial success. Arnold Esch makes it clear that the distinction between “people” and “noble” was extremely fluid and did not represent pro- and anti-papal parties. The Populares were just more inclined than the nobility to negotiate with the pope.137 The political agitation destabilized the market economy, with parties blocking entry into the city from its main access roads. The situation in Rome was precarious. Mattuzzi, one of the three conservatores, ruled as a “lord of Rome” for a year. He was eventually toppled by the noble party at the end of the summer in 1395, leaving his Florentine creditors nervous.138 “La gente che v’era a piede del popolo di Roma e di quello di Siena furono quelli che furono li morti e li presi; dissesi che furono li perduti più di mille uomeni, ma li cavalieri presso che tutti fuggendo camparono.” Cronica volgare, 187. 132 According to David D’Avray, Papacy, Monarchy and Marriage, 860–1600 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015), 139–44, Ladislaus was in Rome to annul his marriage with Constanza Chiaramonte. Their marriage at respectively thirteen and twelve allied the Durazzo to the Chiaramonte of Sicily. But after the death of Andrea Chiaramonte during the Aragonese Sicilian invasion, Ladislaus lost interest in his young wife. The annulment was granted. 133 Dykmans, Cérémonial-Ameil, 4: 250–51. 134 Cronica volgare, 187. 135 Paolo Orsini had a rather flamboyant career. See Anna Falcioni, “Paolo Orsini,” Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani 79 (2013), www.treccani.it/enciclopedia/paolo-orsini_(DizionarioBiografico)/ (accessed on February 22, 2021). 136 Esch, “Fine del commune di Roma,” 240–45. 137 The clearest narrative appears in Arnold Esch, “Bonifacio IX,” Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani 12 (1971): 170–183, www.treccani.it/enciclopedia/papa-bonifacio-ix_(Dizionario-Biografico) (accessed on February 22, 2021). 138 Esch, “Fine del commune di Roma,” 245–46. 131

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258 l rome during the schism It is of note that by October 1394 in Avignon, Benedict XIII (Pedro de Luna) had been elected new pope of the Avignonese obedience. He was pressuring Boniface in the Papal States and encouraging the Romans to abandon their obedience.139 The Schism always weighed in the background of internal strife. Opponents to Boniface usually favored the Clementist obedience. By the end of summer 1395, Mattuzzi was banned from the city and exiled. Rome was again en prise to political and economic chaos between 1395 and 1398.140 The exiled Mattuzzi prepared his reconquest, appearing at the gates of Rome in June 1398, with the support of the Florentine condottiere Paolo Orsini. The noble party heading the Commune panicked, declared the city bankrupt, and handed it to the pope. With plenum dominium Boniface eliminated Nobiles on July 4, Populares on August 4, and gave the governance of the city to a pontifical vicar and a senator, which he named. The Commune’s magistrates simply became civic administrators. The fall of the Commune did not rest well with all. In August, a counter coup led by the Caetani failed, the conspirators executed. Pietro Mattuzzi did not abandon his political ambitions. In January 1400, he joined the Colonna and attempted a coup that failed amidst total desinterest. According to the Cronica volgare, the rallying cry of the revolt was “Viva il popolo e muoia il tiranno Papa.”141 The major Nobiles leaders were executed and Mattuzzi exiled, this time to Rimini.142 Still, the failure did not prevent the Colonnesi from harassing anyone circulating near Rome. During the summer of 1398, Boniface understood that he needed to physically “reprint” the papacy on the city. One of his earliest decisions was to repair and fortify the leading symbol – and real defense of the Roman papacy – Castel Sant’Angelo. The pope also ordered the fortification of the senatorial palace on the Campidoglio (it had burned mid-century) and the apostolic palace (new ramparts replaced the Via Francigena). Thus, Boniface displayed his physical and symbolic main mise over the two poles of the city: papal and communal palaces. 143 On July 5, 1398, the solemnity of the moment was celebrated with the ringing of bells, processions, and the illuminations of Saint Peter.144

The Lateranization of the Capitolio ccording to the anonymous author of the 1382 Memoriale de mirabilibus et indulgentiis quae in Urbe Romana existent, the Laterano was a pretty papal church that had been prettier in its past. The author notes that it had burned and been repaired twice by Pope Urban V (clearly the patron of the anonymous author, with his use of meum Urbanum) and

A 139

Baronio, Annales, 26: 541–44. We can note that Castel Sant’Angelo’s defensive position was always present in the pope’s mind. See his September 4, 1395, interdiction to “evellere, extrahere, admovere, vel differe” stones and other material from the fortress. See Pistilli, “Se tu vuoi mantenere lo Stato di Roma,” 182. 141 Cronica volgare, 245. 142 Esch, “Fine del commune di Roma,” 270–71. 143 See Esch Bonifaz IX., 261. On the repairs, see Pistilli, “Se tu vuoi mantenere lo Stato di Roma,” 177–89. 144 Esch, “Fine del commune di Roma,” 269, 271. 140

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The Lateranization of the Capitolio k 259 Gregory XI.145 The author is accurate in his information. The Trecento Laterano, isolated from the Roman abitato, had been seriously damaged by at least two major fires in 1308 and 1361.146 Only the first Renaissance popes, Martin V and Eugenius IV, addressed its renovation seriously.147 The crowd of faithful supported its restoration during the Schism. However, we know from a papal bull at the time of Urban VI that it was still damaged. The basilica’s clergy was appropriating for other purposes donations intended for its repair, “laying a reckless hand on treasures that did not belong to them.”148 However, this did not mean that the Laterano had lost its symbolic potential. Even damaged, it was, according to Herbert L. Kessler and Johanna Zacharias, “a showplace for purposeful displays of papal authority, both religious and governmental.”149 The Laterano space was a means of performing authority and legitimacy. The Commune of Cola di Rienzo is intimately connected with this attachment to the Laterano.150 His 1346 sermon on the lex de imperio Vespasiani took place in the Laterano’s choir. There he lectured on the ancient Roman people and the Senate transfer of power to their emperor. It is also at the Laterano that Cola chose to be knighted.151 It is possible that the 124 steps leading to S. Maria in Aracoeli, designed in 1348 by Simone Andreozzi and inaugurated by Cola di Rienzo, found their inspiration in the Laterano’s Scala Sancta. Returning to the Memoriale de mirabilibus et indulgentiis quae in Urbe Romana existent, the palace contained the heads of Peter and Paul enshrined in a reliquary ordered by Urban V. The sacristy contained a painting of the Last Supper, and in general, according to the author, many antiquities too numerous to itemize were scattered throughout the church. The Chapel Sancta Sanctorum contained a holy image non manu hominum facta (not manufactured

145

Valentini and Zucchetti, Codice topografico della città di Roma, 84. On the medieval Laterano, see Ingo Herklotz, Gli eredi di Costantino: Il papato, il Laterano e la propaganda visiva nel 12 Secolo (Rome: Viella, 2000); Umberto Longo, “Dimensione locale e aspirazioni universali a Roma nel XII secolo: San Giovanni in Laterano come santuario e l’eredità dell’antica alleanza, in Expériences religieuses et chemins de perfection dans l’Occident medieval. Études offertes à André Vauchez par ses élèves (Paris: De Boccard, 2012), 121–37; and Wickham, Medieval Rome, 335–38. 146 Georges Rohault de Fleury, Le Latran au moyen âge: Texte et atlas (Paris: Morel, 1877), 203, 219. 147 For repairs on the Laterano, see Elizabeth M. McCahill, Reviving the Eternal City Rome and the Papal Court: 1420–1447 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2013), 10, 38, 42, 168, 182, 184, 186–87, 215, and 270; and Carol M. Richardson, Reclaiming Rome: Cardinals in the Fifteenth Century (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 153–54. 148 Rohault de Fleury, Le Latran au moyen âge, 231. 149 Kessler and Zacharias, Rome 1300, 21. See also, Krautheimer, Rome, 191–93, 322–26; Federico Guidobaldi, “Roma: Storia, urbanistica, architettura (da Costantino a Gregorio VII),”Enciclopedia dell’ Arte Medievale (1999), www.treccani.it/enciclopedia/roma-storia-urbanistica-architettura_% 28Enciclopedia-dell%27-Arte-Medievale%29/ (accessed on February 22, 2021); Stefano Riccioni, “Rewriting Antiquity, Renewing Rome: The Identity of the Eternal City through Visual Art, Monumental Inscriptions and the Mirabilia,” Medieval Encounters 17 (2011): 439–63; and Montaubin, “De l’an mil à la Renaissance: De qui donc Rome fut-elle la capitale?,” 391–408. 150 See, for example, Amy Schwartz, “Eternal Rome and Cola di Rienzo’s Show of Power,” in Acts and Texts: Performance and Ritual in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, ed. Laurie Postlewate and Wim N. M. Hüsken (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 63–77. 151 Musto, Apocalypse in Rome, 112–17, 177–83. See also Anna Modigliani, “L’addobbamento cavalleresco di Cola di Rienzo (con una postilla petrarchesca),” in Cavalieri e città, ed. F. Cardini, I. Gagliardi, and G. Ligato (Pisa: Pacini, 2009), 91–105. On this tablet, the Lex de imperio Vespasiani, see Herklotz, Gli eredi di Costantino, 61–62, 77, 87, 90, 181, 194.

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260 l rome during the schism by human hands), and on its corner stood two bells to honor Jesus Christ. The courtyard was covered with antiquities; a large rider (at least the size of two men); a metal head and arm with a fist, which the author labels as ancient idols; and a well-formed copper wolf. Four large copper columns with their covers stood before the altar, transported by Constantine from the Temple of Solomon. The author lastly indicates to his audience that several cloistered women (inclusae) occupy the basilica’s chapels. His description hints at recluses. He mentions that they are in the walls next to and across the street leading to the Church of the Holy Cross in Jersusalem (et etiam in muro de prope, versus viam ecclesiae Sanctae Crucis in Iherusalem).152 The presence of recluses would certainly have sanctified this space. Since Hadrian I (772–795), popes kept in the Laterano’s courtyard ancient bronzes and stones that displayed the power of ancient Rome. Chris Wickham states of the area, “This is why the Campus was the location for some quite conscious pieces of papal selfpresentation in material form.”153 These ancient sculptures presented symbols of the pope’s “meting out of justice” with a thief’s hand tacked on a wall, the famous bronze lupa, Egyptian lions, the bronze boy pulling a thorn, the main staircases, the scalae pilati, or scala santa, and of course the mounted rider statue (the Marcus Aurelius).154 To quote Kessler discussing the latter statue, “Setting up the ancient bronze in front of the Patriarchium was the archaeological counterpart to writing the Donation of Constantine: it established the ancient, imperial roots of the pope’s sovereignty over the Western empire.”155 Ingo Herklotz identifies the she-wolf (lupa) as the most important artifact; it was considered mater Romanorum. He adds that it must have been set above a portico of the palace, thus clearly visible by all.156 Herklotz suggests that the she-wolf, the equestrian Marcus Aurelius (thought to be Constantine), and other gigantic fragments displayed the city’s imperial ties, possibly since Hadrian I.157 Regardless, Chris Wickham’s conclusion drives the point home. What is important, however, is that whenever the populus or its individual members (including, as we have seen, the poor) came to the Laterano, it was this set of highly symbolic objects that they saw, essentially representing papal authority in the city. The Laterano was thus not only a somewhat distant palace, in the middle of vineyards and ruins, away from the daily activity of the city, but also a visible centre of political and ideological power.158

152 153

154

155 156

157 158

Valentini and Zucchetti, Codice topografico della città di Roma, 85–86. Wickham, Medieval Rome, 335. See also Kessler and Zacharias, Rome 1300, 21; and most of Herklotz, Gli eredi di Costantino. Also of interest, Thomas F. X. Noble, “Topography, Celebration, and Power: The Making of a Papal Rome in the Eighth and Ninth Centuries,” in Topographies of Power in the Early Middle Ages, ed. Mayke B. de Jong, Frans Theuws, and Carine Van Rhijn (Leiden: Brill, 2001), 45–92. See also Ingrid D. Rowland, “The Basilica of St. John Lateran and the Post-Tridentine Papacy: Refashioning the Sacred Landscape,” in Layered Landscapes: Early Modern Religious Space across Faiths and Cultures, ed. Eric Nelson and Jonathan Wright (Abingdon: Routledge, 2017), 185–206. Kessler and Zacharias, Rome 1300, 26. Herklotz, Gli eredi di Costantino, 57–85. The author discusses the historiographical quarrels over the dates of these monuments, 213–16. Herklotz, Gli eredi di Costantino, 75–97. Wickham, Medieval Rome, 336.

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The Lateranization of the Capitolio k 261 In addition, the entrances to the thirteenth-century Laterano cloister were also guarded by lions and sphynxes.159 We could add that Boniface VIII’s benediction loggia resembled an emperor’s pulvinar (viewing loggia).160 Furthermore, the frescoes decorating the inside of the loggia associated the pope with the imperial parasol/umbrella, sign, again, of supremacy. It linked Pope Sylvester to Constantine, the founder of the Laterano Basilica. Many of these symbols moved to the Campidoglio in 1471, imprinting the pope’s authority on the locale, now that the Commune was no more.161 But before that date, and during the long Trecento, they belonged to the Laterano and were only available to the Commune to emulate its own justice and sovereignty.162 This emulation was older than the Trecento. Chris Wickham argues that the Capitol’s obelisk with its four lions at its base “can easily be seen as a monumental reply to the Campus Lateranensis.”163 During the fourteenth century, a large Hellenistic statue representing a lion attacking a horse stood on the piazza of the Capitolio, a kind of counterweight to the Laterano’s equestrian Marcus Aurelius. This statue was on the lower stairway of the Senatorial Palace and was the location where the convicted heard their sentences.164 The banderesi’s symbolism was quite ambitious and displayed their “physical” authority [the force of the lion] over the life and death of the citizenry. However, the Commune amped up the challenge, with the lions of the Laterano cloister, by keeping an actual lion on location. One of the poor beasts was killed on November 4, 1414, during the death throes of the Commune.165 It seems that keeping live lions as a symbol of civic identity resonated with medieval dwellers. The Vatican register for 1389 mentions the August’s payment of a salary to Guillaume Roche, keeper of lions and various other animals in Avignon.166 And Bertrand Boysset notes the presence of several lions in the city of Arles. They were kept as “pets,” asked to battle other animals such as bulls and rams, and often attacked the inhabitants.167

Rowland, “The Basilica of St. John Lateran,” 192. See Ioana Jimborean, “La loggia delle benedizioni at St Peter’s in the Quattrocento and the Visualization of Power,” in Perspectives on Public Space in Rome, from Antiquity to the Present Day, ed. Gregory Smith and Jan Gadeyne (Farnham: Ashgate, 2013), 109–30. 161 For the 1471 move, see Kessler and Zacharias, Rome 1300, 25. See also Rowland, “The Basilica of St. John Lateran and the Post-Tridentine Papacy,” 185–206. 162 This is also suggested by Maire-Vigueur, The Forgotten Story, 288–90, where he shows how “the senators endeavoured to give it [Capitolio] an order and a beauty equal to those places in which papal authority displayed itself in all its glory: the Lateran and the Vatican.” He goes on citing various examples, obelisk, and the lion attacking the horse. 163 Wickham, Medieval Rome, 339. 164 Musto, Apocalypse in Rome, 156, 334, 338, 344. 165 Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo: Dal 19 ottobre 1404 al 25 settembre 1417, ed. Francesco Isoldi (Città di Castello: Rerum Italicarum scriptores, 1917), 95. See Antonio’s biography in Paolo Procaccioli, “Antonio dello Schiavo,” Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani 38 (1990), www .treccani.it/enciclopedia/antonio-dello-schiavo_(Dizionario-Biografico)/ (accessed on February 22, 2021). On the Capitoline lions, see Emmanuel Rodocanachi, Le capitole romain antique et moderne (Paris: Hachette, 1905), 20–24. 166 AAV, IE 366, fol. 190r. 167 For Arles’s lions, see Dalché, Bonnet, and Rigaud, Bertrand Boysset, 122–25, 134–35, 144–45. See also, for the political symbolism of cacce and menagerie, Angelica Groom, Exotic Animals in the Art and Culture of the Medici Court in Florence (Leiden: Brill, 2019). 159

160

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262 l rome during the schism

The Banderesi Seals

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f the Commune had a long tradition of mimicking papal imperial visual propaganda, the trend seems to have accelerated during the Schism. The banderesi’s seal offers another instance of this “Lateranization.”168 A 1387 letter the banderenses sent to Corneto describes the seals – a caveat, there is no certainty that the seal was designed during the Schism; but for now, it is our single piece of evidence. As Tommaso Di Carpegna Falconieri argues, “The description of a seal is extremely rare, and is only provided when a seal has just been changed or has been stolen, with explicit mention being made of the occurrence.”169 Following this caveat, one may assume that the notary who drafted the vidimus of the banderesi’s 1387 letter took care to describe the seal because it was new or had recently been changed in some way or another. On the other hand, other evidence points to the fact that seals were, on the contrary, frequently described in southern European vidimus.170 And furthermore they are described quite often in the Cornetan registers.171 In any case, the seals layered symbols tying the militia to the Roman Empire, its own past, and Christianity.172 This was more or less what the popes had done with the Laterano. One seal showed an enthroned Rome with palms in her right hand and a “ball” or “orb” with a cross in her left. Rome and the banderesi were here presented as Caput Mundi. The heads of two lions appeared on the front of the throne with illegible writing.173 A second seal had two men on it. One man was holding a shield in his left hand and crossbow in his right, the other a crossbow with both hands. In between them stood the letter B with a cross on top. Again, the banderesi were communicating authority, but this time by divine grace. Both seals gave them legitimacy by right of force (lion and weapons); On the construction of identity via seals, see Brigitte Miriam Bedos-Rezak, “Medieval Identity: A Sign and a Concept,” The American Historical Review 105, no. 5 (2000): 1489–533. 169 Tommaso Di Carpegna Falconieri, The Man Who Believed He Was King of France: A True Medieval Tale, trans. William McCuaig (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2008), 170. 170 Robert-Henri Bautier, “Les sources peu connues de la sigillographie: La copie authentique et le vidimus,” Bulletin de la Société nationale des antiquaires de France (1950–51): 166. 171 Francesco Guerri states that the descriptions of seals were frequent in the Margarita if only to augment the symbolic value of the communal register. See Francesco Guerri, Fonti di storia Cornetana. I. Il Registrum Cleri Cornetani e il suo contenuto storico (Corneto-Tarquinia: Tipografia A. Giacchetti, 1908), 177. 172 in uno quoque dictorum sigillorum sculta erat Roma triunfaliter sedens in quadam sedia habensque in manu destra quamdam spicam palme, in sinistra vero pallam rotundam cum desuper cruce; in sedia vero ex utraque parte sculta erant duo capita leonum, cum literis in circulis dictorum sigillorum que legi non poterant propter offuscationem ipsarum; in alio vero sigillo sculte erant due immagines in forma duorum hominum, una quarum habebat clippeum in manu sinistra, in manu vero destra balistam gestabat, alia vero ymago habebat in ambabus minibus balistam ad os; inter quas ymagines erat sculta quedam litera “B” cum cruce desuper. 168

173

Supino, La Margarita Cornetana, 376. This description seems quite similar to a Senate’s denarius from the thirteenth century. See www .milestonerome.com/2015/04/the-forgotten-symbol-of-municipal-rome/ (accessed on February 22, 2021), which reproduces a “Denarius, AR Grosso (3.31 g). Second emission, circa 1251–1265, Italy, Papal States, Roman Senate. Inscriptions: + SENATVS • P • Q • R •, lion passant left; + ROMA CAP’. MUNDI, Roma enthroned facing, holding globe and palm. Classical Numismatic Group, Inc., via Wikimedia Commons.”

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The Lateranization of the Capitolio k 263 by heredity (they were a continuation of imperial Rome); and by divine right (the cross). No medieval kings could have presented a better claim.

The Holy Gate

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he Commune may also have literally co-opted Lateran and papal functions during the jubilee. The existence of a walled Porta Santa opened only for medieval jubilees seems undeniable. Herbert Thurston has itemized its mention in medieval literature and iconography, especially on medals. He traces the practices earlier than the long-recognized mention by Johannes Burkhart in his ceremonial. On December 18, 1499, Alexander VI visited S. Pietro and Johannes states, I took the opportunity to show his Holiness the place in the chapel of St. Veronica which the Canons of the Basilica declare to be the so-called golden door which was wont to be opened by the Sovereign Pontiffs upon each hundredth year of the Jubilee, which I had also frequently heard said and maintained in common talk (in vulgo). His Holiness was of opinion that it ought to be opened in the same way at the time of the inauguration of the Jubilee, and he gave directions to have blocks of marble arranged and cut for the adorning of the said door to such height and width as the contour of the door showed on the inside, giving orders also that the walls in front and at the side of the said chapel should be entirely removed, that the people might pass through more freely.174

According to Thurston, evidence backs up the existence of a Holy Door at S. Pietro in 1350 and 1450.175 As for the Laterano, he proposes evidence for the late fifteenth century, the Reliquiae Romae Urbis atque Indulgentiae states that, “in the said Church of the Lateran is a certain door which is called the golden door. This is opened in the Jubilee year. There every man who is penitent has all his sins forgiven; that is to say, so far as regards punishment and guilt.”176 To emphasize the point, he quotes the Florentine Giovanni Rucellai who attended the 1450 jubilee, who states, Of these five doors, there is one which is always walled up except during the Jubilee year, when it is broken down at Christmas, when the Jubilee commences. The devotion which the populace has for the bricks and mortar of which it is composed is such that, at the unwalling, the fragments are immediately carried off by the crowd, and the foreigners (gli oltremontani) take them home as so many sacred relics. It is said that the face of our Lord Jesus Christ [the Acheropita?], which is placed in the tribune of the High Altar of that church, passed through that door; and out of devotion every one who gains the Indulgence passes through that door, which is walled up again as soon as the Jubilee is ended.177

174

Herbert Thurston, The Holy Year of Jubilee: An Account of the History and Ceremonial of the Roman Jubilee (London: Sands, 1900), 31. The entire chapter is dedicated to Holy Doors (28–54). 175 Thurston, The Holy Year of Jubilee, 32–37. 176 Thurston, The Holy Year of Jubilee, 39. 177 Thurston, The Holy Year of Jubilee, 39.

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264 l rome during the schism One may note the similarities with electoral pillaging, when the faithful destroyed and raided the residence of the elected and other ecclesiastics.178 A letter found in the Datini’s archives testifies to the Laterano’s popularity with the Romans before the early modern period.179 According to that letter, a Holy Gate (porta santa) was opened during the 1400 jubilee. There is no apostolic record of the opening. According to the missive, around March 28, 1400, “they opened a door” (Èssi aperta una porta), and this door offered salvation to whomever went through it three times. “They” is indefinite; it is not clear who initiated the act, and it seems that if it were the pope he would have been identified. Traditionally, the pope himself hit the door.180 In addition, the passing through the porta’s threshold three times points toward popular origins. As of 1423, the date traditionally attached to Martin V’s 1423 first opening of a Jubilee Holy Gate at the Laterano, one only needed to pass through it once to mark the ritual.181 Hence, all elements combine toward an unofficial or rather un-papal opening – a way for the Commune to respect and rival the pope by performing an ecclesiastical event.

On this electoral pillaging, see Rollo-Koster, Raiding Saint Peter; and “Episcopal and Papal Vacancies: A Long History of Violence,” in Ecclesia & Violentia: Violence against the Church and Violence within the Church in the Middle Ages, ed. Radosław Kotecki and Jacek Maciejewski (Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars, 2014), 54–71. 179 Esch, “I giubilei del 1390 e del 1400,” 290: The letter states: 178

Niccolo a Stefano di Bonaccorso, lettera da Roma a Pisa del 28 marzo 1400. Archivio Datini di Prato, Prato, Archivio di Stato, filza S45, n. 505241. In questa lettera del carteggio datiniano si legge una preziosa testimonianza dell’apertura della Porta Santa in San Giovanni in Laterano. Così al quarto e al Quinto capoverso: «A questo perdono de l’Anno Santo viene gente infinita. E, de’ 10, i 9 sono franceschi: ch’è un piaciere a vederli e udirli. Ecci da Parigi G[i]achetto G[i]ovanni e la moglie e più altri chonoscienti di Provenza: ci sono anchora gente assai e ongni dì ci se n’atende più. E pure qualche choselina ci si fa: e sperasi anchora meglio, se ghuerra non nasci e: che Idio ciessi! Saprai che seghuirà. G [i]ovanni di G[i]orgio m’à scritto venirci ora, al magio: aspettalo chon gran disiderio: che Idio a salvamento cie ‘I chonducha. Se tu sarai sì g[i]udeo o chupido del ghuadangnare, che tu non ci venghi, t’arai il danno. É questo perdono una volta a la vita de l’uomo e vuolsi sapere chonosciere: sì che chosì ti priegho facci tu. Una sponda di letto non tti mancha e buon viso, fame patirai, chome noi: a te stia pigiare questo bene. Èssi aperta una porta, qui, a Santo G[i]ovanni Laterano, che è anni 50 più no’ ssi aperesse: che chi passa per essa 3 volte, a lat’ a lato, dicie à perdonanza di pena e di cholpa. Ed è un miracholo la gente passa per essa. Nel giubileo che fu or fa 10 anni detta porta non ssi apersse: ché non volle il papa. Sì che, se vuoi andarne in paradiso, vienci. Cristo chon techo. Using the same evidence Hélène Millet states, “peu avant le 28 mars 1400, fut solennellement ouverte la porte des années saintes à Saint-Jean-de-Latran, alors que, en 1390, Boniface IX n’avait pas voulu qu’il en fût ainsi.” Millet, “Le grand pardon du pape (1390),” 236. Nowhere does the letter state that it was a “solemn occasion.” 180 Thurston, The Holy Year of Jubilee, 44–54. 181 Amedeo de Vincentiis, “Il guibileo de Martino V,” in La storia dei giubilei, 1300–1423, ed. Jacques Le Goff, Claudio Strinato, and Gloria Fossi (Rome: BNL, 1997), 302, citing Niccolò della Tuccia, “1425. Papa Martino fece l’anno del perdono, e fe’ aprir la porta di San Giovanni in Laterano, e fu gran pace per tutta l’Italia, e vennero moltissimi oltramontani a Roma (Ciampi 1872, p. 72),” and Manuscript, BAV, Ottoboniano Latino, 2625, c. 59 r., “Anno domini 1424. Papa Martino fece l’anno del perdono et fece aprire la porta santa di San Giovanni Laterano, et fu gran pace per tutta l’Italia et moltissimi oltramontani vennero a Roma.”

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The Lateranization of the Capitolio k 265 The letter states that no gate had been opened in the past fifty years and that in 1390 the pope had prohibited its use. The Datini’s letter thus clearly refers to a holy gate at S. Giovanni, in 1350, 1390, and 1400, but ecclesiastical records do not mention these dates. It is probable that in 1423 Martin V endorsed and slightly revised a practice that was already in use. In 1390, Romans were trying to renew their pact with the sacred, while fighting for their identity against the growing involvement of Boniface IX in their political life. The pope may have refused the opening either because it was dangerous or non-canonical. It is highly probable that the Romans took the liberty to open that gate during the second jubilee of 1350. At that time, the papacy was exiled in Avignon and the Commune was at its apex. Civic administrators could have opened a gate to demonstrate simultaneously their understanding of Rome’s sanctity and their autonomy from Avignon. Rome was sacred with or without its papacy. What is interesting here is that they did not do it at S. Pietro. Because S. Pietro did not symbolize yet the seat of the papacy. The Laterano did.

The Via Maggiore

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dditional evidence points to a Roman focus on the Laterano during the rule of Urban VI. On December 20, 1386, a Roman brotherhood initially involved with the Laterano hospital/hospice, named either the Compagnia dei Raccomandati del Salvatore, Compagnia dei Raccomandati del Santissimo Salvatore, Confraternita del Santissimo Salvatore, or Compagnia de Raccomandati del Santissimo Salvatore ad Sancta Sanctorum de Urbe, decided “for the honor and beauty of the city” to supervise, maintain, and care for the Via Maggiore that led from the Colosseo to the Laterano.182 The “Capitula et Statuta super balya et libertatem morantium in via major Urbis, inducta inventione discreti viri Ciroli gubernatoris hospitalium Recomendatorum Domini Nostri Jesu Christi et facta per Conservatores camera Urbis officium Senatus exercentes,” clearly states that the initiative was supported by the entire hierarchy of the ruling Commune, from Conservatores to banderesi. The statutes enforced basic hygiene and safety recommendations, offered a sort of building code and rent control, and protected the street’s residents from requisitioning and compulsory military service. In case of needs, residents could receive building subventions. Tenants were granted financial and legal protection, with tax exemptions and direct protection from the Capitoline tribunal. Anyone who insulted or injured a resident received four times the penalty, and culprits were dragged directly to the Capitolio. Of course, these protections were offered only to inhabitants who had been registered in advance and were pious and virtuous. The armorial of the brotherhood (Christ’s face between two candles) could be etched above the entry of certain residences.183 It can still be seen today and was present on many jubilees’ medals, in association with the opening of the Laterano’s Porta Santa.184 182

See Rohault de Fleury, Le Latran au moyen âge, 213–18, 231–33; Roma 1300–1875. Atlante, 85–86. Pasquale Adinolfi, Laterano e Via Maggiore: Saggio della topografia di Roma nell’età di mezzo: Dato sopra pubblici e privati documenti (Rome: Tipografia Tiberina, 1857), 140–49. The arms of the brotherhood can still be seen today. See www.annasromguide.dk/personer/religordener/ compagniaraccomandatisalvatore.html (accessed on February 22, 2021). 184 Thurston, The Holy Year of Jubilee, 41. 183

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266 l rome during the schism The statutes were reiterated some twenty years later on December 6, 1418, indicating this time that the initial impetus came from the area’s utter state of desolation – empty, ruined, almost deserted, a robbers’ den, and a place of debauchery.185 What transpires from these actions is the communal authorities’ willingness and anxiety to return the Laterano to the physical and symbolic core of the city. But first it needed to be purged from all vestiges of its abandonment, symbolic and physical. The physical rehabilitation went hand in hand with the spiritual. It is within this context that Saint Francesca Romana – Ceccolella Bussa (1384–1440), daughter of Paolo Bussa from the lower Roman nobility, and wife of Lorenzo dei Ponziani, from similar social standing – comes into play. Her canonization testimonies, ranging from 1440 to 1453, show her predilection for the Laterano, the location of several, including one of her most powerful, visions. It is at the Lateran that, falling into ecstasy while praying in the company of two sisters, she was given baby Jesus in her arms and was allowed to carry him to S. Maria Nuova. It should be highlighted that according to witnesses they went to the Lateran to receive indulgences. That such a powerful vision would occur at the Lateran indicates the church’s reentry into Rome’s sacred space.186

Ladislaus and the Long Carnival: Rome, 1404–1420187 he years ranging from the death of Boniface IX in October 1404 to the entry of Martin V in Rome on September 30, 1420 were for Rome the darkest of the Schism. Forces tore the city asunder and actions approached those of a long Carnival in a Bakhtinian sense – with subversion of dominance, sacrilegious behavior, reversal and co-optation of papal symbolism. Most were initiated by pressures on the popes to solve, or not, the Schism, with all the political expediency that could be imagined. The king of Naples, Ladislaus of Durazzo (son of Charles), after having failed to conquer the throne of Hungary, set his sights on the Papal States. He more or less occupied the city while

T

“Et alias conditiones pessimas que tunc illam multipliciter afflixerunt, fuerat habitatoribus derelicta, adeoque defecerat, ut non via, sed solitarius locus et quasi desertus, imo latronum spelunca poterat potius appellari, propter inhonesta que committebantur ibidem, ad reformationem dicte vie.” Adinolfi, Laterano e Via Maggiore, 145. 186 Placido Tommaso Lugano, I processi inediti per Francesca Bussa dei Ponziani (Santa Francesca Romana) 1440–1453 (Vatican City: Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, 1945), 73 (for her vision), 114, 170–71. Based on this record, Esch, Rom, 95–106, draws a detailed image of the social life of the city during the period. We can note that no witness uttered the word “Schism” in their deposition nor is there any mention of the double/triple papacy. Married and a mother of several children, dedicated to a life of piety, devotion, and charity, Francesca nevertheless advised her husband on cattle ranching. She founded in 1425 a community of Benedictine oblates at the foot of the Capitol, at the Tor de’ Specchi. See Domenico Maffei, ed., Atti Del Simposio Internazionale CaterinianoBernardiano, Siena, 17–20 Aprile 1980 (Siena: Accademia Senese Degli Intronati, 1982); Giorgio Picasso, Una Santa tutta romana: Saggi e ricerche nel 6. centenario della nascita di Francesca Bussa dei Ponziani (1384–1984) (Siena: Edizioni L’ulivo, 1984); Giovanni Mattiotti and Giorgio Carpaneto, Il dialetto romanesco del Quattrocento: Il manoscritto quattrocentesco di G. Mattiotti narra i tempi, i personaggi, le visioni di Santa Francesca Romana, compatrona di Roma (Rome: NES-Nuova editrice Spada, 1995). 187 The following section reproduces in part my “Rome during the Schism,” 41–52. 185

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Ladislaus and the Long Carnival k 267 Nobiles and Populari Colonna and Orsini factions regained their footing.188 The whole was capped by ruthless condottieri (Ladislaus included) who lent their troops to the highest bidders, changing allegiance on a monthly basis. Contests were fought in blood, but also marked symbolically both city and people. As Ferdinand Gregorovius states, “Boniface IX was favoured by fortune in all his secular undertakings.”189 By 1402, his most prominent foes were either dead or pacified: the count of Fondi, Onorato Caetani was dead, as were Gian Galeazzo Visconti in Milan (on September 3, 1402) and Giovanni di Vico; the Colonna, Orsini, and Caetani had been soothed; Ladislaus of Durazzo had recovered the Kingdom of Naples and buttressed the pope from the south; and Viterbo had capitulated.190 Boniface died on October 1, 1404. He was barely dead when unrest started anew.191 His successor was not as fortunate as he had been. As soon as Boniface died, Benedict XIII’s ambassadors to Rome, sent to negotiate a solution to the Schism, were arrested as they were attempting to leave the city and imprisoned at Castel Sant’Angelo.192 The general atmosphere of resentment against Boniface was aggravated by the traditional pillaging attached to the death of a pope.193 Adam Usk describes the chaos that fell on Rome.194 Moreover, in a dream Adam saw 188

The most recent and complete bibliography concerning Ladislaus is found in Andreas Kiesewetter, “Ladislao d’Angiò Durazzo, re di Sicilia,” Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani 63 (2004), www .treccani.it/enciclopedia/ladislao-d-angio-durazzo-re-di-sicilia_(Dizionario-Biografico) (accessed on February 22, 2021). See also from the same author, “L’epistolario di Maria d’Enghien: Nuovi rinvenimenti e precisazioni,” in “Quei maledetti Normanni”: Studi offerti a Errico Cuozzo, 2 vols., ed. Jean-Marie Martin and Rosanna Lamaggio (Naples: Ariano Irpino, 2016), 1: 521–82; and “Il principato di Taranto fra RaimondoOrsini del Balzo, Maria d’Enghien e re Ladislao d’AngiòDurazzo (1399–1407),” in Un principato territoriale nel regno di Napoli? Gli Orsini del Balzo Principi di Taranto (1399–1463). Atti del Convegno di studi (Lecce, 20–22 ottobre 2009), ed. Luciana Petracca and Benedetto Vetere (Rome: Istituto storico italiano per il medio evo centro di studi Orsiniani, 2013), 147–61. The author is preparing a monograph entitled Il principato di Taranto durante il Grande Scisma d’Occidente (1374–1420). Alessandro Cutolo, Re Ladislao d’Angiò-Durazzo (Milan: Hoepli, 1936) offers a detailed biography of the king. For his Roman influence, see Ninci, “Ladislao e la conquista di Roma del 1408,” 161–224. His military efforts at taking the city are additionally described in Armand Jamme, “Prendre Rome aux temps du Grand Schisme. Méthodes et chimères,” in La linea d’ombra: Roma 1378–1420, ed. Serena Romano and Walter Angelelli (Rome: Viella, 2019), 21–39. 189 Gregorovius, Rome, 566. 190 Gregorovius, Rome, 557–65. 191 Von Nieheim, Theoderici de Nyem De scismate libri tres, 185–87, describes the turmoil. 192 Valois, La France 3: 377. He cites “sicut mortuus est, de commotione hujus populi Romani et aliis scandalis que hic evenire possent.” Antonello Tomacelli, the castellan of Sant’Angelo seized their goods and requested a 10,000 fl. ransom that was cut in half through the intermediary of the Florentines who also paid the advance. 193 Valois, La France, 3: 377. He cites, “Ac etiam bona nostra, vasile et animalia capta fuerunt et sunt.” On this pillaging, see Rollo-Koster, Raiding Saint Peter. Adam Usk mentions that the conclave was well-guarded but, “Once his election [Innocent VII] had been announced, the Romans, with their customary rapacity amounting almost to an addiction to vice-descended on his house and completely stripped it, leaving nothing behind, not even the bars on the windows.” Adam Usk and Chris Given-Wilson, The Chronicle of Adam Usk, 1377–1421 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2008), 183. 194 He fell ill after hearing from the French embassy “Most dread lord . . .. My master [Benedict XIII] is holy, just, true, and Catholic, and he is also sitting on the rightful throne of St Peter – and then

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268 l rome during the schism “St Peter seated outside his gate, solemnly dressed in his papal garb, hurling to the ground a dejected and filthy-looking character who seemed to be a pope, and who was sitting on his left.”195 The staging of this dream, for Adam a portent of the ills to come, mimics to a large extent the ceremony of papal excommunication.196 The candle usually held in the pope’s hand was replaced by a “filthy-looking character.” Saint Peter was showing his wrath at the state of his vicariate. Cardinals entered in conclave while “pestilential Romans . . . rose up and spent three weeks fighting and robbing and killing each other, each side insisting that one of its supporters ought to be chosen as the new pope.”197 The situation was confused. The papal senator and Boniface’s brother held the Capitolio for the papacy while they were besieged by Colonna’s men. Francesco Orsini, called to rescue the pope’s men, was defeated by the Colonna as the “people” asked Ladislaus to enter the city in a show of support.198 Innocent was no Boniface. He lost control of the situation rather quickly. Romans contested his dominium over the city as Ladislaus entered via the Porta S. Giovanni, settling at the Laterano.199 Ladislaus’s entry had all the trappings of a semi-emperor. Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, who held a benefice at the Laterano, states that Ladislaus entered under a palio confectioned by only a “fraction” of the Roman people (showing the city’s disunity), and the palio remained at the Laterano while the king only spent two days there.200 Note that the king’s imperium was limited but the palio remained at the Laterano, somewhat possessing its own space, linking the Romans with the basilica. After a couple days, Ladislaus left the Laterano by the same Porta S. Giovanni, accompanied by a number of Neapolitan and Roman barons. He avoided crossing the city directly, riding north toward the Ponte Molle where he returned to the city via the gate of Castel Sant’Angelo (see Map 1). Showing all the signs of a savvy politician, in this second 1404 entry, Ladislaus emphasized his rapport with the pope. Escorted by the Orsini, he rode under a palio that had been ordered by the pope – we do not know if the papal gesture was natural or coerced.201 The association with the Orsini also landed the king squarely on the pope’s side. Within a few days, he had managed to satisfy all parties. He presented himself as a

this same archbishop added more forcefully, ‘and nor is he a simoniac.’” Usk and Given-Wilson, The Chronicle of Adam Usk, 181. 195 Usk and Given-Wilson, The Chronicle of Adam Usk, 181. The image is quite close to what Vasari represented in the Vatican’s Sala Regia with his “Gregory IX Excommunicating Frederick II.” 196 On excommunications and ritual, see Christian Jaser, Ecclesia maledicens: Rituelle und zeremonielle Exkommunikationsformen im Mittelalter (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013). 197 Usk and Given-Wilson, The Chronicle of Adam Usk, 183. 198 Gregorovius, Rome, 567–69. 199 Gregorovius, Rome, 509. 200 Antonio states: “Sub palio sibi facto per partem Populi Romani, et non per totum Populum, etcetera; et pallium remansit apud dictam ecclesiam Lateranensem; ac etiam ibi in palatio archipresbyteri ecclesie Lateranensis remansit dictus dominus Rex per duas noctes, etcetera.” Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 3. 201 “Intravit sub uno alio palio facto per dominum nostrum dominum Innocentium papam VII, qui dictus palius habuit dominus Nicolaus de Ursinis cum aliis sotiis, etcetera, ut dictum fuìt.” Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 4.

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Ladislaus and the Long Carnival k 269

Map 1 Rome during the Schism. Illustration by Matilde Grimaldi

pacificator and moderator, regardless of his coat of arms, “O ciesar o nichil.”202 “Either Caesar or nothing,” Ladislaus wanted Rome.203

202 203

Girgensohn, “Io esghonbro per paura,” 1: 253. Dietrich of Nieheim states that much, calling him an expert fisherman in troubled water. See Von Nieheim, Theoderici de Nyem De scismate libri tres, 192.

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270 l rome during the schism Ladislaus’s successful arbitration between pope and people resulted in a new treaty that gave responsibilities to a somewhat restored Commune, the pope, and Ladislaus. The treaty was signed on October 27, 1404.204 The Capitolio returned to the Commune, and Ladislaus received the rectorship of the Campagna and Maritima.205 To celebrate his, and to a certain extent the Romans’ success, Ladislaus fell back on pageantry, this time “possessing” the Laterano. On November 4, after hearing mass at S. Pietro, he returned to the Laterano via the Porta Veridariam at the Vaticano, proceeded north to the Ponte Molle and reentered Rome via the Porta Sancte Marie dello Populo (Flaminia). He rode through the arch next to the Church of S. Lorenzo in Lucina, crossed Colonna’s territory, actually knighted a Colonna, then continued via Torre dello Conte to finally reach the Laterano.206 Ladislaus was not the subtlest of characters. He imprinted his passage in the city by coopting the most papal of all ceremonies, the pope’s Possesso, entering the city on a route parallel to the pope’s, while the pope had yet to celebrate his own symbolic control over the episcopal see of Rome.207 After having outperformed the pope, Ladislaus left for Naples on November 5. Innocent was thus free to celebrate his Possesso a few days later; he stepped into the Laterano on Tuesday November 11, 1404.208 A few months later, in February1405, the city organized its games on Quinquagesima Sunday (the Sunday preceding Ash Wednesday).209 The Commune used Carnival season to display its regained authority. It exposed its instruments of justice openly and visibly for all to see. Adam Usk states, “The Romans assemble for their games, drawn up in armed bodies under the heads of the districts . . .. The senator, the two conservators, and the seven regents of the city are also present at the games, attended by much pomp, standing behind the block and axe used for beheading those guilty of sedition.”210 The civic lay government was showing its autonomous capacity for defense, justice, and of course capital punishment. 204

Gregorovius, Rome, 569–71; Baronio, Annales, 27: 118–21. Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 4. 206 Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 5. 207 Montaubin, “Pater urbis et orbis,” 25–33, describes the exact itinerary of the procession for the central Middle Ages. For late medieval possessi, see Francesco Cancellieri, Storia de’ solenni possessi de’ sommi pontefici detti anticamente processi o processioni dopo la loro coronazione dalla Basilica Vaticana alla Lateranense (Roma: Lazzarini, 1802), 33–39. For early modern descriptions, see Martine Boiteux, “Parcours rituels romains à l’époque moderne,” in Cérémonial et rituel à Rome (XVIe–XIXe siècle), ed. Maria Antonietta Visceglia and Catherine Brice (Rome: École Française de Rome, 1997), 27–87; Irene Fossi, “Court and City in the Ceremony of the Possesso in the Sixteenth Century,” in Court and Politics in Papal Rome, 1492–1700, ed. Gianvittorio Signorotto and Maria Antonietta Visceglia (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), 31–52; and Lucia Nuti, “Remoulding the City: The Roman possessi in the First Half of the 16th century,” in Ceremonial Entries in Early Modern Europe: The Iconography of Power, ed. J. R. Mulryne, Maria Ines Aliverti, and Anna-Maria Testaverde (Abingdon: Routledge, 2015), 113–34. 208 Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 5. 209 On carnival games on the Agone and Testaccio, see Filippo Clementi, Il carnevale romano nelle cronache contemporanee con illustrazioni riprodotte da stampe e quadri dell’epoca (Roma: Tipografia Tiberina di F. Setth, 1899), 22–55; Maria Chiabò and Federico Doglio, Il Carnevale: Dalla tradizione arcaica alla traduzione colta del Rinascimento (Rome: Centro di studi sul teatro medioevale e rinascimentale, 1990); Maire Vigueur, The Forgotten Story, 122–26; Re, Statuti della città di Roma, 109, 239–43; Di Santo, Guerre di torri, 19–37, 97–102; and Montaubin, “Pater urbis et orbis,” 21–22. 210 Usk and Given-Wilson, The chronicle of Adam Usk, 195. 205

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Ladislaus and the Long Carnival k 271 The Romans’ newly regained freedom of movement emboldened them even further. Under Colonna’s leadership, they attacked Annibaldi’s territories. The pope dispatched the prior of the knights of St. John to negotiate a settlement, which he did successfully, but upon his return, he was captured as a traitor and summarily executed on the Capitolio. The pope retaliated by threatening to leave the city, and the Romans again petitioned their pope for forgiveness. The fracture between the city and its pope grew, reaching its limit when the Romans asked the pope for access to the Ponte Molle. This bridge protected the Vaticano, while Castel and Ponte Sant’Angelo protected communication with the city. Without control of the Ponte Molle, the Vaticano was left vulnerable to attacks. After skirmishes around the bridge between Romans and papal troops, Innocent agreed to the destruction of some of its arches to render it impassable. Still, Roman envoys verbally bullied Innocent, who, according to Gregorovius, would have asked Roman officials, “Do you also wish to tear this mantle from me?”211 Pope Innocent’s family, in traditional papal fashion, supported him in his function and Innocent had brought his nephew Lodovico Migliorato to court. He was captain of the papal militia.212 Upset at the treatment his uncle received, Lodovico took it upon himself to avenge the offense. On August 6, 1405, he slaughtered eleven of the fourteen communal envoys who were negotiating a solution with the pope.213 Their murder started an insurrection. The uprising of August 1405 is retold in multiple chronicles, and to a certain extent the violence held some of the ritualized aspects attached to electoral sacking.214 This seems to follow a certain cultural logic since people had discussed demoting the pope.215 One of the event’s most famous and vocal victims was Adam Usk, who lost everything he owned in 211

Gregorovius, Rome, 575. Leonardo Bruni was a direct witness of these events and recounts them in his letters. See Llaria Morresi, “‘In ista navicula fluctuanti.’ Leonardo Bruni e Roma: Riflessioni sull’Epistolario,” in La linea d’ombra: Roma 1378–1417, ed. Walter Angelelli and Serena Romano (Rome: Viella, 2019), 133–50. 212 See Anna Falcioni, “Lodovico Migliorati,” Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani 74 (2010), www .treccani.it/enciclopedia/lodovico-migliorati_(Dizionario-Biografico)/ (accessed on February 22, 2021). 213 Gregorovius, Rome, 575–77. 214 Ignazio Giorgi, “Relazione di Saba Giaffri notaio di Trastevere, in torno alla uccisione di undici cittadini romani ordinata e compiuta da Ludovico Migliorati nipote di papa Innocenzo VII,” Archivio della Società romana di storia patria 5 (1882): 165–209, offers a review of the contemporary literature. It is of note that the notarial document that he edits is available in a copy at Rome, Archivio Capitolino, Credenzone XIV, vol. 6, 108r.–11r., “Nota hic infra de inopinato periculoso et infelici casu devento in urbe propter peccata nostra omnium Romanorum qui sumus pleni invidia, avaritia et superbia et modicum deum congnoscimus et sanctos eius modicum reveremur” (Thursday, August 6, 1405). The hand is post Renaissance, circa eighteenth century. This notarial testimony coming from the father of a canon of S. Pietro offers some interesting details: all of Rome was barricaded; the victims (the captured officials) were disrobed, killed in their shirts and hoses; papal guards were sent to protect the apostolic palace and churches, that were plundered anyway; Romans, foreigners, and especially courtiers were despoiled in the “ultra pontem” region; the church of S. Pietro was closed, and no celebrations took place. The behavior is similar to sede vacante sacking. 215 “et querulosas et dolosas epistolas contra Innocentium et Ludovicum ad diversos domi nos et multarum civitatum communitates direxerunt.” Von Nieheim, Theoderici de Nyem De scismate libri tres, 191.

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272 l rome during the schism the affair.216 Usk insists on the somewhat ritualistic aspect of the violence, with carnivalesque “sede vacante” reversal: “With trumpets blowing ahead of them, the Romans went through the city decrying the pope as a traitor and a hypocrite, reversing his arms in the streets and painting him upside down with a devil offering him the crown.”217 Dietrich of Nieheim, after describing the spoliation of the Borgo, explains that Giovanni Colonna had been nicknamed Pope John XXIII by the Romans for the occasion – so a new pope had indeed been named! Colonna occupied the Apostolic Palace for twenty days. During this period, the Romans seized the apostolic archives.218 The pope escaped to Viterbo, and the situation turned extremely fluid. Now masters of Rome, the Colonna called Ladislaus for his support. He sent his mercenaries. They attempted entering the Borgo, but were repelled by the Romans, who again turned to the pope for help. The pontiff sent Paolo Orsini to the rescue; he managed to free the Vaticano from danger. Some six months later, in January 1406, the Romans returned dominium to the pope. On March 13, 1406, the pope was able to enter his city via the Porta Portese. Castel Sant’Angelo – along with the Colonna, Savelli, Anibaldi, and Orsini families – was still out of his control. For his responsibility in the insurrection, the pope deposed Ladislaus.219 Antonio dello Schiavo’s comments on this deposition emphasizes its public aspects. On the Thursday of St. John the Baptist, June 24, the bull was published, posted on the door of S. Pietro, and many read it (et multi Romani et cortisiani leserunt dictas bullas), evidence that the ritual had its impact and was publicized.220 Feeling at risk of losing his crown, Ladislaus managed to quickly make amends. His reconciliation with the pope brought him the title of “Church’s Defender and Standard Bearer.” Castel Sant’Angelo surrendered soon afterward, on August 9, 1406. But the pope did not survive his success for long. He died on November 6, 1406. For Ladislaus, a solution to the Schism endangered his position in Rome and Naples. He knew that Benedict XIII supported Louis of Anjou for his Kingdom of Naples. Thus, Ladislaus closely monitored the fate of Rome and its pope. In November 1406, the Roman obedience chose to elect a successor to Innocent. The votes went to the elderly Venetian Angelo Correr (Gregory XII) who immediately opted for a reconciliation with Benedict XIII, something that Ladislaus did not want but that Florence did.221 Both popes agreed on a meeting in Savona in 1408. In order to prevent any form of reconciliation, Ladislaus prodded the Colonna to seize Rome, with the support of Neapolitan troops. They engaged through the Porta S. Lorenzo (Tiburtana) on June 17, 1407, but were stopped by troops of

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Usk and Given-Wilson, The chronicle of Adam Usk, 205. Usk and Given-Wilson, The chronicle of Adam Usk, 205. 218 “Multos libros in regesto supplicationum et literarum papalium repertos deportarunt et literas bullatas et aliqua registra supplicationum et literarum papalium laniarunt et de thesauraria papali ultra L volumina librorum exportarunt.” The material was eventually returned to Innocent. See Von Nieheim, Theoderici de Nyem De scismate libri tres, 191. 219 Baronio, Annales, 27: 145–46. 220 Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 13. 221 Regarding Florence’s pivotal role leading to, and during the Council of Pisa, see Alison Williams Lewin, “‘Cum Status Ecclesie Noster Sit’: Florence and the Council of Pisa (1409),” Church History 62, no. 2 (1993): 178–89; and Ninci, “Ladislao e la conquista di Roma del 1408,” 161–224. 217

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Ladislaus and the Long Carnival k 273 the pope’s nephews and Paolo Orsini. Papal forces captured many of the rebellious barons; still, their defeat did not prevent Gregory’s escape to Sant’Angelo. Antonio dello Schiavo offers a detailed personal account of the event showing the anxiety that enveloped the city and the relief that accompanied papal victory. The pope rode back to S. Pietro with great honor, while Antonio dello Schiavo states, “we celebrated greatly in the campanile of S. Pietro [their place of hiding during turmoil] and in all Rome, with pennants and the ringing of bells.”222 The execution of some of the prisoners was also staged as a ritual cleansing of the body politic. The executions were associated with religious behavior: a procession that assembled in S. Pietro, with pope, cardinals, clerics, and “tota Roma,” followed by a solemn mass in the basilica. In the evening, one of the Orsini’s prisoners, Galleoctus de Normaniss, was brought from the Orsini’s residence to the Capitolio, we can assume following a portion of the Via Papalis. He was paraded hatless and disrobed, on a small red horse, his hands tied back while walking and riding. Antonio dello Schiavo even indicates that the crowd insulted him (cum magno vetuperio) along the way. He was executed the following day. More executions followed. According to Gregorovius, Paolo Orsini’s hold on the pope was so great – at least financially – that he convinced the pope to leave the city for Viterbo and eventually Savona, the location of an eventual meeting between both popes. The pope gave control of the city to a vicar-general (the cardinal of Sant’Angelo, Pietro Anibaldi Stefaneschi) and left in August 1407.223 With the pope away, a state of confusion reigned in the city. Antonio dello Schiavo describes the movements of a nervous, unsettled people, getting ready to fight at any instant, sometimes on a simple rumor.224 The chronicler also itemizes the various expedients formulated to relieve financial pressures. Taxes were levied on the Roman clergy and income was found in melting S. Pietro’s chalices and chandeliers and other inestimable treasures such as a cross that had belonged to Boniface VIII with pieces of the True Cross in it, as well as a silver statue of St. George. Adding to their misery, the winter of 1408 was a cold one; it snowed in Rome. The eventual capture of some of Ladislaus’s Neapolitans only reinforced what was expected, a return of the king. However, the carnival tournament on the Testaccio took place while the games on the Agone were canceled.225 That the Testaccio games continued in the middle of the political fray is a testament to their popularity and unifying foundational role. Their performance counted.226 The enemies’ presence hampered the free circulation of edibles, and the population was on the brink of famine. The cardinal-vicar’s reaction was swift. He reinstated the banderesi. Antonio dello Schiavo describes the ceremony of April 11 and 12, 1408. The banderesi entered the Vaticano for their oath and received their banners, “newly made and still not finished with the emblems of the society, the shield and crossbow.”227 The detail is significant because it demonstrates that all of the

222

Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 18. Gregorovius, Rome, 590. 224 On the night of August 25, Romans spent a sleepless night awaiting an attack that never materialized. See Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 20–21. 225 Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 22–25. 226 Clementi sees in them official solemnities of political importance, tying Commune and all Romans including the pope who assisted. See Clementi, Il carnevale romano, 29–51. 227 Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 27. 223

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274 l rome during the schism society’s banners had been destroyed with its previous elimination, and new ones needed to be manufactured. The new banners, even unfinished, truly granted the city’s jurisdiction back to the banderesi. The banderesi walked down S. Pietro, banners in hand, accompanied by the sound of drums and trumpets, their four counselors’ baton in hand. They then marched to the Capitolio where they took residence – to no avail. Ladislaus took the city after seizing Ostia. Note that the moment is important enough to have been illustrated in Antonio Baldana’s De magno schismate previously discussed. The Commune and Paolo Orsini, representing the Vaticano, met separately with Ladislaus to negotiate and reach a deal. The banderesi resigned on April 23. They were replaced by a senator and officials named by the king. Ladislaus’s men took control of the city, and he himself entered Rome in great pomp on April 25, 1408 (see Map 1).228 The king entered under the palio via the Porta S. Paolo (Ostiensis) and S. Maria bridge, through the Trastevere, Porta Septimiana, and finally S. Pietro. There he took residence, in the apartments of the pope’s camerlengo – another rejection of curial protocol. While an entry through the Trastevere was unusual, it is possible that Ladislaus’s route was dictated by his political savvy, a nod to the free communal aspiration of this rione, or more simply to the state of the city’s streets. Chroniclers mention quite often that the city was blocked, and bridges had been cut down. Saba Giaffri, a notary in the Trastevere, notes, for example, that in 1405 all Rome was sbarrata (blocked).229 Regardless, the Romans honored him by accompanying the cortege with bells, palm branches, and banners – a copy of the Feast of Marie’s celebrations in mid-August.230 The palms of “victory” connote Jesus’s entry into Jerusalem – something that must have pleased Ladislaus.231 Ladislaus ruled Rome as a “theatrical” emperor, with bread and games. The king was by then associated with the city to such an extent that when someone like Antonio dello Schiavo describes events, he uses geographical markers attached to the king and not the pope. In January 1408, for example, Antonio mentions seeing Francesco Orsini returning from “the prison of the king” inside the Vaticano, even though Ladislaus was not there.232 Antonio dello Schiavo describes a duel on Saturday May 26, 1408, set up on the square in front of S. Pietro.233 Appropriating a very popular space with pilgrims, it is there that at the Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 28–29. Again, Antonio proves himself a first-rate witness in the details he offers, including the description of the “pretty” bridges over boats set up by the king’s men to take the city, which he saw on the Tiber in the Trastevere. 229 Rome, Archivio Capitolino, Credenzone XIV, vol. 6, fol. 108r. See also Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 91–92 (1414). 230 The procession’s itinerary may have been dictated by the fact that the king did not control Castel Sant’Angelo. On April 30, for a visit to the city the king had to retrace his long entrance loop around the city, “Propter Castrum Sancti Angeli noluit equitare per pontem Sancti Petri, etcetera, quia non habebat dominium dicti Castri.” Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 30. 231 Meanwhile, Benedict XIII, nudged by Paolo Orsini, orchestrated a rescue mission to safeguard the city from the king’s emprise. Galleys (manned by ecclesiastic roarers who complained loudly of their forced enrollment) were recruited in Porto Venere to bring troops to the city. See Valois, La France, 3: 578–85. 232 “Vidi ego Antonius lohannis Petri in basilica Sancti Petri Franciscum de Ursinis reversum de carceribus regis Veceslay.” Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 24. 233 Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 30. See also Di Santo, Guerre di Torri, 32: 228

Di tutt ‘altra entità il duello avvenuto a Roma sabato 26 maggio 1408. Il diarista Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo descrive l ‘allestimento nel giorno precedente di uno spazio chiuso,

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Ladislaus and the Long Carnival k 275 time of high mass the people of Rome and soldiers witnessed the fight.234 S. Pietro square became a theater for entertainment, a new Agone, a space for violence and carnival.235 Soldiers were its new pilgrims. Ladislaus was making Rome his by desacralizing its space, replacing papal with regal symbolism, the cross with the sword. Within a few weeks, Ladislaus controlled the pope’s patrimony and left the city for Naples. As popes Gregory and Benedict were prevaricating over their decision to eventually meet, their respective obediences abandoned them. The cardinals’ decision to assemble in Pisa was a blow to Ladislaus’s plans. He stuck with Gregory and decided to march toward Tuscany to break the possibility of a council. He spent some sixteen days in Rome on his way north. His entrance on March 12, 1409, was quite convoluted, maybe purposefully, to display his control over the entire city (see Map 1). He arrived from Mareno and entered via the Porta S. Lorenzo fuori le mura, passed under the arch of Santi Viti, Torre di Conti, the street “Spoglia Christo,” the Macello Ripe, the Ponte Jeudeorum, through the Trastevere, by S. Maria in Trastevere, exited Porta Septimiana, and rode into S. Pietro, where he stayed.236 With his last three entries, Ladislaus had basically redrawn Roman symbolic territory while showing his predilection for the Trastevere. This could explain why the portico of S. Maria in Trastevere displays an annunciation with donator and a S. Venceslao witnessing the act on their right.237 Could Ladislaus have inserted himself in this iconography: Venceslao/Ladislaus? Ladislaus was named after the eleventh-century Hungarian saint. His father, Charles, king of Naples and Jerusalem had, as we saw, visited and been crowned in Rome in 1380–1381, so he was familiar with the location too. It would fit the profile of both father and son to physically enshrine their passage in the city with a mural painting. The mural is dated between 1380–1400, contemporarily with Charles, and Ladislaus’s presence in the city. Like the king of Bohemia that Ladislaus also was,

“parchum”, in piazza San Pietro per permettere a Rinaldi Gascogna e Piero de Montechia di combattersi. La mattina di sabato, prima d ell’alba, vengono eretti due padiglioni ai lati opposti del detto parchum. Il primo, situato ai piedi delle scale di San Pietro, è di proprietà del signor Ludovico, ossia il dominus Ludovico Migliorati, nipote di papa Innocenzo VII. Il secondo padiglione, innalzato all’incirca a metà della piazza, è di Cristoforo Gaetani e ospita Piero de Montechia. Pertanto nel giorno sopradetto [continua dello Schiavo] all’ora della messa maggiore di San Pietro, si raccolse un’ intera folla, costituita dai cavalieri e soldati del re e dal popolo romano, tutti giunti per vedere combattere i due antagonisti, ossia Rinaldi e Piero de Montechia, nel sopradetto recinto. Quindi, intorno all’ora sesta, i due fecero il loro ingresso e combatterono l ‘uno contro l’altro. Riportò la vittoria Piero de Montechia perché ferì tre volte la mano sinistra di Rinaldi. 234 Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 30. S. Pietro surroundings, including its square, had traditionally been invested by numerous money-changing stalls, straw vendors (for bedding), booksellers, religious souvenirs, small artisans, and food vendors. Richard Krautheimer labels the space “one big bazaar;” Krautheimer, Rome, 266–67. 235 See Wickham, Medieval Rome, 134–35, for a description of this space. 236 Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 38. The so-called Bridge of the Jews (Ponte Jeudeorum) was the bridge over the Tiber island, the Pons Fabricus. See Lawrence Richardson, A New Topographical Dictionary of Ancient Rome (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1992), 298. 237 See Serena Romano, La pittura medievale a Roma, 312–1431. Volume VI: Apogeo e fine del Medioevo, 1288–1431 (Milan: Jaca Book, 2017), 346. I want to thank Dale Kinney who alerted me of this mural.

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276 l rome during the schism S. Venceslao is represented as prefect of Rome – Charles was named senator.238 Through his entries, Ladislaus had projected his hold on the entire urban fabric. He further appropriated papal time and space by hanging in front of S. Pietro, on the vigil of the Annunciation, a soldier who had been robbing pilgrims, demonstrating his physical and moral control over Rome.239 In Pisa, on June 5, 1409, the council deposed both popes and excommunicated them. A new pope, Alexander V, was elected on June 17. This decision highly complicated Ladislaus’s plans. The new pope excommunicated him, putting his trust in a new leader for Naples in Ladislaus’s enemy, Louis II of Anjou. Louis was accompanied by the leading condottieri of his time, Malatesta de Malatesti, Braccio da Montone, and soon enough Paolo Orsini, who joined the Pisan obedience. They arrived at the gates of Rome in October 1409. They could only seize the Portico of S. Pietro; the rest of the city was besieged. Antonio dello Schiavo’s diary describes a city in turmoil, now that a third pope had been elected. The city was divided into warring factions, with Colonna-Ladislaus supporting Gregory, and Orsini supporting Alexander. Work took place in S. Pietro to reinforce doors and walls, while the body of Boniface IX was transferred from the Chapel of Peter and Paul to the Chapel of St. Gilles. As defenses were set up, certain quarters were emptied of their inhabitants, who found refuge in S. Pietro. Meanwhile religious services were suspended.240 It is surprising that not much discussion surrounds the suspension of liturgy. Antonio dello Schiavo mentions the “non-occurrence” with a “non fuit” or “non fecit processionem” in several instances but leaves it at that.241 It seems that for our chronicler God was witnessing the events and understood the limits of his good people. All in all, the situation was dismal, and our chronicler even has a thought for animals. The internecine war left cattle starving because their owners had no use for them.242 Again, space was desacralized. The loggia in the campanile of S. Pietro, from which the pope blessed his attendance, was now occupied by a bombard.243 Men were decapitated for showing their allegiance to either party. The whole mess is best summarized by one of Antonio dello Schiavo’s statements, “Una pars dicebat: ‘Viva la Chiesia et l’Orso’; et alia pars dicebat: ‘Viva Chiesia et la Colona’” (one side said “long live the church and the bear [orso, Orsini]” and the other said “long live the Church and the Column [Colona]”).244

See Salvatore Fodali, “Carlo III d’Angiò Durazzo, re di Napoli, detto della Pace, o il Piccolo,” Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani 20 (1977), www.treccani.it/enciclopedia/carlo-iii-d-angio-dur azzo-re-di-napoli-detto-della-pace-o-il-piccolo_%28Dizionario-Biografico%29/ (accessed on February 21, 2021). 239 Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 38. 240 Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 41–44. 241 Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 44, 48, 63, 70, 80, (for non fuit) and 29, 86 (for non fecit processionem) 242 “Ego Antonius vidi maximam crudelitatem in via Sancti Pauli, videlicet in Testacia et in multis aliis locis de bestiis, vachinis, bovis, buffalis, crastatis, et porcinis, ac etiam de’ iumentis, omnes perientes et morientes fame, et relicta per patronos eorum, dicentes sic dicti patroni: nui non aveno (sic) de que pacare li bifolci, perchè nui non aveno (sic) nullo utile delle sopradette bestie.” Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 49. 243 Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 52. 244 Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 52. 238

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Ladislaus and the Long Carnival k 277 Anjou’s troops eventually surrounded the city and yelled to whomever could hear, “Hey Romans, why don’t you cry ‘long live the Church and the people’?”245 Colona and Orsini fought each other until the last days of 1409, when two young boys of the Rione Arenule and four others from the Rione Parioni finally yelled “Viva lo Populo et la Ecclesia.” The bells of S. Lorenzo in Damaso rang the alarm and Rome assembled on the Campodifiori to give its allegiance to Alexander, claiming anew “Viva lo Populo et la Ecclesia.”246 However, the city was not fully at peace yet. Islands of protest remained, at the Porta S. Lorenzo (Tiburtina), for example, where regardless of ceaseless bombarding, its defenders kept yelling till they capitulated, “Viva king Ladislaus.”247 One of the most surprising aspects of the period, at least to the modern eye, is the fluidity that marked normal time, war time, and game time. All “times” melded into one, maybe hinting at the state of uncertainty Romans felt. In the middle of what could be labeled a chaotic political situation, while Rome was torn between popes and families, the games took place on the Agone and Testaccio. However, Antonio dello Schiavo mentions that Paolo Orsini could not attend the Agone games in January 1410 because he was fighting at the Principal Gate. But he was back for the Testaccio games in February. He also adds that captive barons filled the audience. The image of enemies participating in actual combat one minute and jousting for sport against pigs the next is somewhat surreal; it seems remarkable for our chronicler as well. He does hint at the reality of the sport: organized pay-back. He mentions that two brothers of the della Guardia’s family were severely wounded by one of the carts thrown from the Testaccio hill.248 A week later, all gates that had been in the hands of Ladislaus’s supporters were now “ad custodiam Populi Romani et sancte matris Ecclesie.”249 Unfortunately for the stability of Rome, Pope Alexander died ten months into his reign. Pope John XXIII, Cardinal Baldassare Cossa, succeeded him in May 1410. Antonio dello Schiavo notes that right away the new pope’s arms were painted in the apostolic palace and the former pope’s deleted, while the castellan of Sant’Angelo hoisted the flag of the new pope over the fortress. The new papal legate entered the city under palio via the Porta St. Pancrazio (Branchati) with much honor on July 15. The Roman populace who had surrendered dominium acclaimed him, again with palm branches, to the sound of “Viva la santa matre Ecclesia et lo Popolo Romano.” He rode through the town to S. Pietro, walked up the stairs, and entered the church, deposing on the altar 100 years of indulgences.250 The pope named a new senator for the city while Paolo Orsini continued waging his war against Ladislaus’s men, and Louis II of Anjou entered the city on his way to attack Naples. Louis of Anjou entered the city under palio via the Porta S. Pancrazio (Porta Aurelia, thus through the Trastevere) on September 20, 1410, amid great festivities. He rode to Castel Sant’Angelo through streets that were carpeted for the occasion with laurels, rosemary, and olive branches. A few months later, reassured that things were going his way, John XXIII returned to Rome, entering by the same Porta Aurelia/S. Pancrazio on Holy Saturday, April 11, 1411. He was accompanied by Anjou, all the cardinals, and a retinue 245

Il Il 247 Il 248 Il 249 Il 250 Il 246

diario diario diario diario diario diario

romano romano romano romano romano romano

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di di di di di di

Antonio Antonio Antonio Antonio Antonio Antonio

di di di di di di

Pietro dello Pietro dello Pietro dello Pietro dello Pietro dello Pietro dello

Schiavo, Schiavo, Schiavo, Schiavo, Schiavo, Schiavo,

53. 54. 55. 56–57. 57. 58–59.

278 l rome during the schism of Roman barons. He proceeded through the Bridge of the Jews (to Tiber Island) and Piazza Campodifiori, and finally S. Pietro. Dismounting, the pope walked up the stairs of S. Pietro, and following custom, revered the saint at the high altar. The pope’s adventus initiated great festivities and games. On Thursday, April 23, all pennants were blessed and consecrated in S. Pietro (the banners of the Church, Pope John, Louis of Anjou, the Roman people, Paolo Orsini, and others). On the 28th, Louis and Orsini, with banners and men, arrived at S. Pietro where they received the banners of the Church and pope. They left via the Ponte S. Pietro and Porta S. Paolo (Ostiensis).251 The handling of these banners was of prime importance. It shows again the personification invested in objects and their performative capacity.252 The banners gave the “rightful” pope victory over his enemies on May 19, at the battle of Rocca Secca. The news quickly arrived in Rome, and the pope ordered the city to celebrate accordingly. The Romans rang their bells and manufactured silk banners to display. On Ascension Thursday, the pope celebrated mass at S. Pietro. After his benediction, he received the banners of the defeated Ladislaus and pope “Rorii” (whom dello Schiavo demotes by simply un-naming him – Rorii for Correr), which he ordered suspended for all to see on the campanile of S. Pietro, from where he blessed the crowd. According to Dietrich of Nieheim, the banners had been set high enough for all to see when entering or leaving the palace. Antonio dello Schiavo does note that a terrible storm followed, maybe a presage. The following Monday, a grand procession, carrying the head of St. John Baptist, went from the Vaticano to the Laterano, uniting the entire city.253 Proceeding up the Via Papalis, John XXIII was reasserting his legitimacy over Rome. But he may have overextended his reach. According to Dietrich of Nieheim, during the procession the Neapolitan’s banners were humiliated, trampled and dragged to the ground, an ultimate offense. Some curialists in the audience were shocked by such disrespect and provocation.254 Nieheim’s remarks highlight the importance of the moment, which he understood as an extreme violation of protocol and counter-ritual/performance. Regardless, Anjou’s victory was short-lived. Ladislaus rebuilt an army impressive enough to compel Anjou not to engage it; the duke returned to France. After having lost his fleet, soldiers, and treasury to Ladislaus in May 1410, and after winning a Pyrrhic victory in May 1411, Anjou pulled back on his pretensions. His return to Provence was a sad affair. The display of ritualized behavior to which Antonio dello Schiavo was so attentive, and which summarized visually his perception of reality, is absent from his retelling; the ritual-less exit speaks volumes. Anjou left the palace accompanied by cardinals; they left him on the banks of the Tiber and returned to the palace. Anjou boarded his galley alone, without the retinue of Roman barons that had celebrated his entry.255 251

Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 66. On the topic, see Pascale Rihouet, Art Moves: The Material Culture of Procession in Renaissance Perugia (Turnhout: Brepols, 2017). 253 Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 67. 254 Baronio, Annales, 27: 326. 255 “Item iste die post ochasum solis, exivit dictus dominus rex Loisius focem romanam cum multis galeis, et iverunt versus ponentem . . .. Item siatis quod nulus ex baronibus Urbis sotiavit eum in suo recessu; et de hoc ego Antonius Petri fui valde miratus, quia quando intravit Urbem omnes barones fuerunt cum eo in sotietatem, videlicet cum dicto domino rege Luisio.” Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 69. 252

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Ladislaus and the Long Carnival k 279 John XXIII eventually lost much of his support (Florence and Bologna), and his best condottiere, Sforza. Regarding the latter, Antonio dello Schiavo offers the biting comment that it was “not because of a failure of our lord the Pope, but for his own.”256 Left open to Ladislaus’s renewed attacks, the pope excommunicated the king to little effect.257 As a palliative, the liturgy of Corpus Christi that year on June 2, 1412, was particularly brilliant, displaying ornaments that had not been seen in some five years.258 In August 1412, the pope named a new senator, the count of Podio (Giacomo di Paolo Taddeuccio Boscari di Foligno), who received the honor of all Roman captains on the Capitolio. Still, the exodus of some of his best condottieri must have been taxing for John who, a few days later, ordered that effigies of the “traitor” Sforza be painted on all bridges and gates. He was drawn hanging from his right foot from the “fork,” an ax in his right hand and a scroll in his left that stated, “I am Sforza, a villain from Cotagnola [Cotignola in Romagna], traitor, who against my honor broke my promises twelve times.”259 The expectation that an audience could read the scroll is notable. Here, the pope was himself using carnivalesque reversal referring to the death of the anti-Peter, Judas (Matthew 27:3–6), hanging upside down (like Peter) on a fork (and not a cross). Sforza represented betrayal (twelve times, not three like Peter). Like Judas, Sforza was bound to regret his actions and payed for his treachery with his life. Eventually, in order to prevail, John assuaged Ladislaus. He promised him lands in exchange for Gregory XII, still under the king’s protection in Naples. They reached an agreement that was proclaimed in Rome on October 19, 1412. The city rejoiced with festivities for two days.260 Gregory left Naples for Rimini, where he remained under the protection of Carlo Malatesta. Meanwhile, pressured by the new Holy Roman Emperor Sigismund, John agreed on calling a council, whose place was yet to be determined. The council, and eventual departure of the pope for its location, drove Ladislaus to declare that Rome needed his protection. Relentless, in May 1413, he made his way north once again. Alarmed, Antonio dello Schiavo describes the arrival of wood to be used in a siege of the city. While the pope’s condottiere Paolo Orsini remained in the Marches, the pope hired some 3,000 mercenaries for his defense. But protection was still deemed insufficient, and John XXIII resolved to lighten the gabelles tax burden, and once again return dominium over the city back to the Romans. In his discourses on Monday, June 4, 1413, John “gave their feet back to the Romans” (ego pono vos in pedibus vestris). He told them not to fear Ladislaus, nor any men in the world, because he was ready to die with them for the Church. Finally, he exhorted the Romans to do well by the Church. The Romans responded in similarly dramatic tones, “Holy father, do not doubt that the entire Roman people is ready to die with you for the safety of Holy Mother Church and your holiness.”261 The Romans had once more tied their destiny to the pope’s and performed their allegiance accordingly.

“Non per defectum domini nostri Pape, set per defectum suum.” Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 73. 257 “Et in isto concistorio fuit publicatus excomunicatus et privatus rex Verceslaus de regno Cecilie et Hierosolimitano, etcetera, ac etiam de Neapoli.” Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 70. 258 Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 74. 259 Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 75. 260 Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 75. 261 Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 78. 256

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280 l rome during the schism Ladislaus’s men quickly broke through the city’s walls, to the rallying cry of “Viva, viva le re Venceslao et la pace.” John escaped to Viterbo, and Ladislaus entered the city via the Gate at the Laterano. He remained at the basilica for two days. He then moved to S. Pietro for some twenty days. The Borgo was sacked, especially the sacristy of the basilica, which was stripped of its relics and ornaments. Many courtiers were either killed or robbed.262 In the middle of the chaos, Ladislaus ordered the removal of Sforza’s effigies from bridges and gates, evidence enough of the humiliation and dishonor caused by such pittura infamante.263 Taking Rome, Ladislaus behaved not so much as the total master of the city that he was, but rather as a “new” pope. He ordered actions that took a highly symbolic taint, seizing control of papal benchmarks. He visited S. Paolo and he named governors of the city before his departure on July 1, 1413. On July 4, his banner was raised over the campanile of S. Pietro, and he ordered that his arms be painted on the gate of the Ponte S. Maria and many other locations. On July 9, officers of the newly defunct Commune were expelled, as were many others. He confiscated and redistributed ecclesiastical benefices, answered ecclesiastical petitions, and made recommendations; and he ordered the removal of John XXIII’s arms from the gate of the Laterano (on August 19, 1413). When Castel Sant’Angelo fell to the king in October, the Romans celebrated with the ringing of bells, pennants and illuminations, to the cry of “Viva, viva lo re Lanceslao.”264 The fall of the Commune and Ladislaus’s control over the city were physically symbolized by various means. A walled tower was erected on the square of the Capitolio, and in November the king’s men took official control of Sant’Angelo with the display of several banners (the people of Rome’s, the Church’s, and his) to the renewed cries of “long live Ladislaus.” On December 14, 1413, a “tabernacle” etching with the arms of the king was sculpted over the window of the Capitolio where senators witnessed capital executions. The following day, the king invited officers of the Commune for a meal at the Capitolio, then he discharged them of their offices and threw them out of the city. A new senator was installed with great pomp.265 We may get a glimpse of Ladislaus’s self-representation, or self-performance, by inspecting the coin he had engraved at the time of his Roman conquest: “Ladislaus, by the grace of God King of Hungary, Jerusalem, Sicily, Dalmatia, Croatia . . . Count of Provence,

Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 79. Andreas Bili is more dramatic, he states, “Hic vero dejectus pudor, nempe omnes, qui deprehendi potuerunt, spoliati; Urbs quoque direpta ac pluribus locis incense, volitantibus per flammas omnis generis literarum seriniis. Id vero insandum, quod nec sacris abstinuit, nudatis auro, atque argento sanctorum reliquiis, undecunque extrahi potuerunt, stabula passim ecclesiis prostitute.” “Historia fratris Andreae Bilii, patria Mediolanensis, ordinis Eremitarum S. Augustini, in novem libros digesta, ab anno MCCCCII usque ad annum MCCCCXXXI,” in Rerum Italicarum Scriptores, ed. Lodovico Antonio Muratori (Milan, 1731), 19: 42. 263 (June 22) “Item isto die fuerunt deguastate omnes picture Sforze ubicumque erant depicte.” Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 80. On pittura infamante, see Gherardo Ortalli, Pingatur in Palatio: La pittura infamante nei secoli XIII-XVI (Rome: Jouvence, 1979); and Carolin Behrmann, Images of Shame: Infamy, Defamation and the Ethics of Oeconomia (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2016). 264 See Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 80–85. 265 The events are retold sequentially by Schiavo. See Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 80–85. 262

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Ladislaus and the Long Carnival k 281 Forcalquier, and Piedmont, and illustrious illuminator of the City.”266 As “grand enlightener,” the king reversed Christological imagery to represent himself, a sort of new Christ in a city dedicated to God. In any case, he and not the pope was now the “light” of Rome. Meanwhile, John XXIII had left Rome, finding protection with Emperor Sigismund, who pressured him into accepting the meeting of a council of all obediences in Constance. The destiny of popes, council, and city became totally intertwined. Ladislaus aimed at preventing the meeting at all costs. Once more, Ladislaus left the city in the hands of his captains (he made one of them, Giulio Cesare of Capua, governor of the city) and returned to Naples. In February 1414, the gate at the Ponte S. Pietro and the Porta Septimiana were closed so no one could enter the Vaticano. In March, Ladislaus was back in town, pursuing north to attack John XXIII and Sigismund. With his return, the king performed the utmost counter-ritual. He rode inside the Laterano Basilica and ordered the ostension of the heads of the apostles Peter and Paul for his and his company’s edification.267 During the Schism, only one visitor had been granted the right to see the relics: Louis of Anjou, accompanied by the papal legate and the Orsini barons, in September 1410.268 This had been an honor and a favor, not a usurped right. While the bodies of both apostles traditionally remained at S. Pietro, their heads were deposed at the Laterano.269 These heads symbolized the Roman papacy. They had been locked away while the papacy resided in Avignon. Their retrieval had celebrated the return of the Avignon popes to Rome. On March 1, 1368, in one of his earliest Roman ceremonies, Urban V honored the relics with a private mass at the Laterano. He kept both heads on the altar (they were held in a simple box) and displayed them afterward to the attending crowd. Interestingly enough, the chronicler recounting these events mentions that on his way back the pope rode through the street where supposedly Pope Joan gave birth – and he did not avoid the street like his predecessors.270 The pope also ordered the manufacture of a sumptuous new reliquary. 266 267

Gregorovius, Rome, 629. In nomine Domini amen, anno Domini MCCCCXIIII indictione vii die mercuri xiiii mensis martii (14 marzo, mercoledì) hora vesperorum, dominus rex Vinceslaus venit Romam, et intravit per portam Sancti Iohannis de Laterano, et in dicta ecclesia fuerunt sibi ostensa capita sanctorum apostolorum Petri et Pauli, equester stando dictus dominus Rex cum multis aliis baronibus tam Romanis quam Neapoletanis. Item post ostensionem dictarum reliquiarum dictus dominus rex Vinceslaus cum supradictis baronibus et aliis capitaneis et gentibus armorum tam equestris quam pedestris equitaverunt per plateam Sancte Marie Nove versus Transtiberim, et intraverunt per pontem Sancte Marie in dicta regione Transtiberim, videlicet ad stantiam sibi preparatam in domo domini cardinalis de Sancto Angelo de dicta regione, et ibi fecit residentiam.

Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 86. Cutolo, Re Ladislao d’Angio Durazzo, 450, is more generous in his description, he states, “venerava, nel Laterano, le reliquie degli Apostoli; si recava poi in Trastevere, e prendeva stanza nella casa del cardinale di Sant’Angelo.” 268 Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 62. 269 Rohault de Fleury, Le Latran au moyen âge, 224. 270 Anno [MCCC]LXVIIJ jam inchoato, die prima mensis martii, dictus Urbanus papa venit ad ecclesiam Lateranensem; ubi cum in crastinum in Sancta Sanctorum missam celebrasset, capita beatorum Petri et Pauli, que annis multis fuerant recondita, et sub altari in quo missam celebraverat clausa servata, ascendens amphitheatrum dicte ecclesie ad communem plateam aspectum habens, toti Romano populo ibi astanti exhibuit et ostendit. Et cum thece seu

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282 l rome during the schism Urban V honored the transfer of the relics into their new reliquary before his departure back to Avignon in 1370. The new reliquary supposedly cost some 30,000 florins. It was in the shape of a gold and silver ciborium, ornate with precious stones, over four marble columns, with a mirror inside to reflect the skulls. The heads were shown to the attending clergy and nobility, and then displayed in a procession for all to see. The new reliquary was installed on the altar, enclosed within a strong iron cage.271 Most importantly, an excommunication was laid upon anyone who would attempt stealing the relics, considering it a crime of lese-majesty.272 Upon his return in 1377, Gregory XI ordered the construction of a capse, in quibus pro tunc erant reposita, essent satis modici et parvi valoris, ex tunc alias novas ordinavit fieri pretiosiores. Ab inde vero ad palatium remeavit pacifice et quiete, per Urbem equitando rectamque viam tenendo; nec obliquavit hinc vel inde, etiam occasione illius fatue mulieris que aliquamdiu papatum dicitur occupasse, et in eadem via abortum faciendo peperisse refertur, quemadmodum alias nonnulli ex suis predecessoribus fecisse leguntur.

271

Baluze, Vitae, 1: 366; and “Die i martii, dominus papa ivit Lateranum, et sequenti die capita apostolorum, que pluribus annis in conclavi retenta fuerant, ostensa fuerunt populo innumerabili, quibus dominus papa fecit fieri thecas pretiosas de argento et gemmis, et ea in ipsis reponi fecit.” 1: 389. Eodem anno [1370], cum dictus Urbanus papa jam fecisset fieri seu fabricari ymagines seu statuas pro conservandis capitibus beatorum apostolorum Petri et Pauli, que erant de auro et argento mirabiliter operate, ornateque multis gemmis et lapidibus pretiosis, valorque earum communi extimatione esset triginta milia florenorum et ultra, devote et solempniter, astantibus multis personis, magnis et notabilibus, capita dictorum sanctorum reponi et includi fecit infra ipsas. Que etiam demum fuerunt processionaliter et publice, universis clero et populo Romanis ad hoc convocatis, presentibus etiam aliquibus dominis cardinalibus et prelatis multis, per Urbem deportate, et demum collocate super altare Lateranense, in loco, seu alto et eminenti ciborio super quatuor columpnas marmoreas, ad hoc specialiter miro opere preparato, magnisque et fortibus januis ferreis circumdato.”

Baluze, Vitae, 1: 374; and “De mense januarii [1369], renovatum fuit altare Lateranensis ecclesie, super cujus ciborium in cacumine locata sunt capita apostolorum per dominum cardinalem Bellifortis, qui postea factus est papa, in duabus statuis argenteis quas papa, ut est dictum, fecit fieri.” 1: 391. 272 Omnes igitir et singulos, cuiuscumque preminentie, dignitatis, status, gradus, ordinis vel conditionis extiterint, etiam si Imperiali, Regali, Pontificali vel quacumque alia prefulserint dignitate . . . qui dicta capita, crucem aut alias reliquias sanctorum cum eis, ut prefertur, reconditas ditas, vel ymagines, aut capsas vel aliquod . . . violenter vel furtive, etiam de conscientia Canonicorum et Capituli ecclesie Lateranensis prefate, vel alterius ipsorum subripere, auferre, asportare seu destruere presumpserint . . . seu aliquos vel aliqua eorumdem scienter receptaverint et retinuerint vel defensaverint, excommunicationis sententia innodamus, eorumque Civitates, Terras, Castra et loca ecclesiastico supponimus interdicto . . .. Et quia tam execrabile sacrilegium penis multiplicibus plecti meretur, talia presumentes sicut rei criminis lese maiestatis perpetuo sint infames et banniti, sint intestabiles, ut nec testamenti liberam habeant factionem, eorumque bona non feudalia pro aliquali satisfaction predictorum dicte Lateranensi ecclesie absque remissionis gratia perpetuo applicentur, feudalia vero ad suos dominos ipso facto libere revertentur . . .. Quocirca fraternitati tue per apostolica scripta mandamus, quatenus per te vel alium sea alios dictum processum, ac omnia et singula in eo contenta in dicta Lateranensi ecclesia et aliis ecclesiis Urbis, et etiam extra illam, de quibus tibi videbitur, populous convenerit ad divina, et in predicationibus publicis publices seu publicari facias, et populo exponas seu exponi facias intelligibiliter in vulgari. Datum apud Montefiasconem v. Kal. Augusti, Pont. nostri anno octavo. Theiner, Codex diplomaticus, 2: 475–76.

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Ladislaus and the Long Carnival k 283 canopy above the Laterano’s high altar, covering the reliquary. Art historians find evidence that this canopy inspired tomb architecture in Rome.273 One can test the significance of these moments, reading Bertrand Boysset. Boysset was a chronicler and man of many talents – arborist, fisherman, winegrower, and most of all, professional surveyor who lived in Arles before and during the Schism. He notes for March 1368 the pope’s ostension of the heads, adding that he also showed the head of St. Agnes. Cardinals and a multitude of faithful attended the Roman ceremony, receiving for their efforts 100 years, and 100 periods of 40 days (quadregisimas) of “true indulgences” (de vera indulgencia) for their participation.274 Boysset notes further the 1370 arrival to the Laterano of the reliquaries and the ceremonious deposition of the heads. He estimates their cost at 150,000 fl. and adds that not only did he see them, but he also kissed them.275 This was truly an event of momentous importance to be noticed by a chronicler, all the way back in Arles. Boysset even attempted sketching the pope praying in front of the two heads.276 The ostension of the heads of the apostles was not Ladislaus’s sole ritualistic counterperformance. He had a bombard set again on S. Pietro square to attack Castel Sant’Angelo when it refused to yield, staining again a space dedicated to ecclesiastical affairs (and pilgrims). The Testaccio games of February 1414 took place, regardless of chaos. Antonio dello Schiavo notes that actors from the Rione Monti presented a crucifixion of Peter and decapitation of Paul.277 These could not have been the sacred plays dedicated to the Easter passion cycle (ludi Paschales) that usually took place in the Colosseo; rather they were carnival representations, acted by Monti’s amateurs.278 The Monti was geographically linked to the Laterano and one has to wonder if the play was not a snub at the Vaticano. Still, on December 2, Antonio and many other Romans saw a comet tracing the sky from the Rione Monti to the Ponte.279 For him the comet indicated a return to normalcy. The Ponte and “his” Vaticano were regaining emphasis. The response to Antonio’s comet may have been the relatively sudden death of Ladislaus on August 6, 1414, after a short illness. In July 1414, Antonio dello Schiavo mentions the construction of a chair to carry the moribund. The king paid a last visit to S. Paolo, boarded a galley bound for Naples, and died according to the chronicler of a “good death.”280 The Romans of course reacted as expected. They revived their defunct Commune, rang the bells of the Capitolio, and met on its square, to the cries of “Viva, viva lo Populo.” They retrieved the gates of the city peacefully and after having dismissed Ladislaus’s magistrates, named new representatives of the Commune.281 Meanwhile, Ladislaus’s captains attempted to

Julian Gardner, “Jean de la Grange, Schismatic Cardinals and Avignonese Tomb Sculpture,” in Vom Weichen über den Schönen Stil zur Ars Nova: Neue Beiträge zur europäischen Kunst zwischen 1350 und 1470, ed. Jiří Fajt and Markus Hörsch (Vienna: Böhlau Verlag, 2018), 117–28. 274 Dalché, Bonnet, and Rigaud, Bertrand Boysset: Chronique, 50–53. 275 Dalché, Bonnet, and Rigaud, Bertrand Boysset: Chronique, 56–59. 276 Dalché, Bonnet, and Rigaud, Bertrand Boysset: Chronique, 24. 277 Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, see 82 and 85 respectively. 278 Gregororvius, Rome, 712. 279 Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 83. 280 Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 89. Dietrich of Nieheim mentions a grave and incurable disease, extremely painful, a holy fire in his “male member,” a sign of divine justice; Baronio, Annales, 27: 363. 281 Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 90–91. 273

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284 l rome during the schism control the city. Sforza and Jacopo Orsini entered via the Ponte Molle and the Ponte dello Populo (or Flaminia, at S. Marie dello Populo), tricking the guard, and made camp on the piazza of S. Maria Nuova. The city barricaded itself. After some negotiations and competing verbal abuses of “Viva lo Populo” and “Viva lo Sforzo,” both sides started to fight. Sforza’s troops were defeated and many dead were buried in local churches. Luckily, as Antonio dello Schiavo mentions, heavy rains worked to the city’s advantage.282 Sforza’s troops retreated to the Laterano’s area and eventually departed. With this newly gained freedom, the Romans chose the old “politician” Pietro Matuzzi as their new senator, more or less against his will. On September 10, 1414, the crowd assembled in front of his house, all pennants deployed to the cries of “viva viva lo Populo; we want one lord and not many; we want Pietro Mattuzzi because he loves the people.”283 On September 16, the Orsini barons swore him fealty. But things did not work well for Mattuzzi. Within a month, a new movement issued from the Trastevere unseated him. Antonio dello Schiavo’s description allows us to follow this political fluidity. The Trastevere insurrection to end Mattuzzi’s rule started with cries of “Vìva lo Populo et la Chìesia santa.”284 The insurrection had been initiated by order of John XXIII’s cardinal-legate, who eventually took residence in the Trastevere. The legate named new conservators, and Rome fell again under papal dominance. A detail mentioned by Antonio demonstrates that the Commune was this time dead for good: “On Sunday, November 4, they killed the lion of the Capitolio at the palace, this was done because it had killed children.”285 The lion would have escaped the Capitolio when Mattuzzi lost his seat. Once dead he was exposed (hanged) in the Rione Ripa. The poor beast may have been a “murderer.” But before all, this caged lion symbolized the Commune. He died with her. The few years separating the end of the Commune and the Schism were still convoluted and violent for the city, still destabilized by several parties: Neapolitan (headed now by Ladislaus’s sister Joanna), John XXIII’s legate, and as always Orsini and Colonna. On September 10, 1415, the castellan of Sant’Angelo used the castle’s trebuchet to catapult to her death a certain Joanna, with a letter in her hand stating that she had attempted to poison him. The following day, her possible accomplice, Collelus of Naples was catapulted into the Tiber.286 Note that he was Neapolitan. The autumn of 1415 was accompanied by torrential rains; the Tiber flooded, and destroyed the grain harvest. The great Roman papal captain Paolo Orsini was killed by the hands of Lodovico Colonna in Foligno in August 1416. Antonio dello Schiavo notes that when his widow entered Rome she was fully “derobata” (disrobed/robbed) by her husband’s family and found refuge at the house of the late Pietro de Buscho.287 A year later, the chronicler Stefano Infessura states that Giovanni Colonna died by the hand of one of Paolo’s men. The attacker had been aiming

“Item siatis quod pluvia numquam cessabat, sicut Deo placuit; quod si pluvia non esset, multi Romani essent mortui, ita quod prò gratia Dei nullus Romanus fuit mortuus; et hoc fuit maximum mirachulum.” Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 92. 283 Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 92. 284 Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 93. 285 Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 95. 286 Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 100. 287 Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 104. 282

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The Veronica k 285 for Lodovico Colonna, but killed Giovanni, who had placed himself between them.288 December 1416 was especially cold, and it snowed. The snow remained some twenty-one days and there was enough to make snowmen that lasted a long time.289 Meanwhile, summary justice took place all over the city and captains of regions were beheaded for no clear reason. In July 1417, Braccio da Montone, the famous condottiere, arrived at Rome’s walls and was quickly granted dominium of the city to the cries of “viva, viva Brazo.”290 By August 1417, his archenemy Sforza was master of the city in the name of Ladislaus’s sister Joanna and the church. Sforza appointed a senator, five conservators, and approved the captains of regions. A few months later, Martin V, first pope of the Colonna family, was elected in Constance on November 11, 1417. He made peace with Naples, kept the cardinal of St. Eustache Isolani as legate, and entered Rome via the Porta del Popolo on September 20, 1420. Renaissance Rome was born.

The Veronica

W

hile the Laterano had been the focus of much communal attention, another symbol gained importance during the Schism. The Volto Santo or Veronica, a cloth believed to be impregnated with the facial sweat and blood of Christ, was one of the Middle Ages’ most venerated relics. Medieval pilgrims visiting Rome and S. Pietro could receive a bounty of indulgences for seeing it. Leopold, a Viennese Augustinian who did just so, states, “I, Leopold, unworthy sinner that I am, spent three sessions of twenty-seven hours in prayer [at the altar of the sudarium of St. Veronica in S. Pietro’s]. For you must know that for every hour that a Roman looks on this image of the Lord he gains an indulgence of three thousand years; the Italian gets nine thousand years, and a foreigner twelve thousand years.”291 The Veronica was exposed on Sundays during jubilee years, peaking at Easter when crowds were so large that people died of suffocation. This infatuation with the image compels Jonathan Sumption to declare it “the principal relic of Rome.”292 This exploration of Rome during the Schism will end with an examination of this image, suggesting that “she,” an anthropomorphized object, also performed. She witnessed the convulsions of Roman politics and vouched for the Romans in the eyes of God. As Hans Belting articulated a generation ago, during the Middle Ages, holy images found their meaning in their use.293 They exulted the type of authority that art historians

288

Diario della città di Roma di Stefano Infessura, ed. Oreste Tommasini (Rome: Forzani, 1890), 19. “Item siatis quod de dicta nive fuerunt facte in colibet regione multe statue de diversis figuris, etcetera, et dieta nix duravit per Urbem bene per xxi dies, etcetera, sed statue facte de dieta nive duraverunt plus.” Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 106. 290 The event is retold by Antonio dello Schiavo in a “nota de Brazo,” Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 109–12. 291 Barbara Wisch, “The Roman Church Triumphant: Pilgrimage, Penance and Procession,” in “All the World’s a Stage . . .”: Art and Pageantry in the Renaissance and Baroque. Pt. 1: Triumphal Celebrations and the Rituals of Statecraft, ed. Barbara Wisch, and Susan C. Scott (University Park: The Pennsylvania State University, 1990), 84. 292 Sumption, Pilgrimage, 239. 293 Hans Belting, Likeness and Presence: A History of the Image before the Era of Art, trans. Hedmund Jephcott (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994). For a recent reevaluation of the work, see 289

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286 l rome during the schism have identified with frontal symmetrical portrait, when Christ directly looks at his audience.294 Looking straight at its visitors, the Veronica represented God’s all-seeing eyes. For a pilgrim such as Giovanni Villani, the ostension of the Veronica had been the highest moment of the first jubilee in 1300. The ceremony was repeated every Friday throughout that year, and on other solemn days.295 It remained the highlight of the second jubilee according to Petrarch.296 The power of the image was so compelling that the Avignon popes used it frequently for public displays during the 1350 jubilee, but also with countless private showings.297 According to Chiara di Fruscia, “The relic simultaneously became the symbol of pontifical, religious and theocratic power.”298 The Veronica was also a physical memorial of the Sepulcher, Jerusalem, and because he sheltered it, of the pope’s overwhelming power and sanctity. Looking at it was seeing the sacred and the control the pope held over it. The holy relic sanctified its geographical location, S. Pietro in Rome.

Roland Betancourt, “Medieval Art after Duchamp: Hans Belting’s Likeness and Presence at 25,” Gesta 55, no. 1 (2016): 55–17. 294 See the works of Lasse Hodne, “Omnivoyance and Omnipresence: Word and Vision according to Nicholas of Cusa and Jan van Eyck,” Ikon: Journal of the iconographic studies 6 (2013): 237–46; and “Symmetry versus Frontality in the Renaissance Holy Face,” Symmetry: Culture and Science 24 (2013): 437–50. See Amanda Murphy, Herbert L. Kessler, Marco Petoletti, Eamon Duffy, and Guido Milanese, eds., The European Fortune of the Roman Veronica in the Middle Ages (Turnhout: Brepols, 2017), for the most up-to-date bibliography. 295 Giovanni Morello, “La Veronica nostra,” in La storia dei giubilei, 1300–1423, ed. Jacques Le Goff, Claudio Strinato, and Gloria Fossi (Rome: BNL, 1997), 161. 296 Morello, “La Veronica nostra,”161. 297 Ut per litteras, John XXII #052556 (1331, private monstrance); Clement VI, #002353, 004569, 004683, 004709, 004718, 004734, 004746, 004750, 00475, 004778, 004785, 004790, 004792, 004795, 004799, 004816, 004835 (1350, all private monstrances, during the jubilee year); Urbain V #000363, (April 17, 1363, this letter orders the monstrance of the Veronica at the Laterano for Easter Sunday to satisfy pilgrims’ piety: Apostolatui nostro extitit reseratum quod, quamvis sacra veronica et nonnulle reliquie sanctorum, quorum corpora in Urbe requiescunt, quadragesime et aliis temporibus Romanis et Romipedis ostendantur, tamen venerandissima ymago Salvatoris nostri, que est in capella nostra apud Lateranensem ecclesiam constituta, que dicitur Sancta sanctorum, in Resurrectionis dominice, die qua Romipete communiter consueverunt recessisse de urbe, incipit demonstrari, propter quod nonnulli Romipete, eandem videre ymaginem cupientes, ipsius dolenter carent ymaginis visione; quocirca, eorum piis desideriis congrue satisfacere affectantes, fraternitati tue mandamus quatinus ostensionem dicte ymaginis singulis annis dominice in Palmis facias inchoari, ac per totam majorem ebdomadam ostensionem ipsam illis horis quibus post dictam diem Resurrectionis hujusmodi consuevit fieri ostensio et extunc continuari usque ad diem solite clausure ymaginis supradicte. #024432 (December 9, 1368, exhibition of various relics in Roman basilicas during the emperor’s sojourn in the city); Gregory XI, #002300 (July 5, 1371, private monstrance); #033428 (January 10, 1374, private monstrance); #003080 (January 4, 1375, private monstrance within closed doors (clausis januis basilicae). 298 Chiara di Fruscia, “Datum Avenioni: The Avignon Papacy and the Custody of the Veronica,” in The European Fortune of the Roman Veronica in the Middle Ages, ed. Amanda Murphy, Herbert L. Kessler, Marco Petoletti, Eamon Duffy, and Guido Milanese (Turnhout: Brepols, 2017), 221.

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The Veronica k 287 For example, in 1399, the movement of the white penitents (Bianchi, pilgrims devoted to peace) was already faltering by the time it reached Rome in late summer 1399.299 However, Pope Boniface IX obliged them with a monstrance of the Veronica at S. Pietro and granted an indulgence to the participants of the nine-days devotion.300 For Boniface, offering these “common” pilgrims a special “showing” of the Veronica equated to treating them as aristocrats, sharing holiness with them. It ingratiated the crowd toward the pope, at a time when his hold on the city was tenuous – the Bianchi had asked and obtained the liberation of all the city’s prisoners.301 It elevated the powers of the pope and put the focus on the Vaticano palace and S. Pietro, where the veil was kept. The passage of the Bianchi and their activities in the city merged with a pseudo-jubilee that was never officially declared. Giovanni Sercambi admits that this jubilee was not called properly but was eventually recognized by the pope.302 Arnold Esch asserts that a sale campaign of jubilee indulgences started as early as 1394 and became one of Boniface’s expedients (or in Esch’s words, “canonistic acrobatics”) when faced with limited income.303 Boniface needed money; a jubilee and the sale of indulgences provided it. It was additionally a means to get back at the Clementist obedience. Even with a French prohibition, and the return of the plague, attendance was high and pilgrims flooded Rome. Again, the Veronica appeared to the Romans in 1405, this time indirectly. As seen previously, with regained freedom of movement during Innocent VII’s rule, the Romans attempted to negotiate several new settlements and may have verbally bullied Innocent.304 On August 6, 1405, the pope’s nephew Lodovico Migliorati avenged his uncle by

299 300

See Esch, Bonifaz IX., 301–8, Daniel Ethan Bornstein, The Bianchi of 1399: Popular Devotion in Late Medieval Italy (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1994), 164, 168. The Bianchi arrived in Rome in September 1399. A Roma, a dì 7 di questo mese [di settembre] infine per tutto il dì di questo mese, sono entrati de’ Bianchi più di dugento milia di diversi luoghi e paesi e specialmente tutta la Campagna, i fedeli del Conte Dolcie infine dall’Aquila e del Ducato e Patrimonio, infine di Romagna numeri infiniti, secondo dicono certi di veduta che vengono di lì e mossensi a dì 16. Luca Dominici and Giovan Carlo Gigliotti, Cronache di ser Luca Dominici (Pistoia: Pacinotti, 1933), 1: 175–76. See also “Cronaca del conte F. di Montemarte,” in Ephemerides Urbevetanae dal codice Vaticano Urbinate 1745 [AA. 1482–1514], ed. Luigi Fumi, Rerum Italicarum Scriptores, 15.5 (1902), 266:

Andaro gli Orvietani a Roma, et gionti a Roma, ancora nissun Romano si era vistilo, et furo contati essere da dieci mila persone vistiti; et il dì seguente i Romani la più parte si vestirò. Il Papa gli fece mostrare il sudario et tutte le reliquie et li fece un privilegio che si potessero eleggere un confessore a lor piacere et assolvesse di colpa et di pena. 301 Le croniche di Giovanni Sercambi, 2: 37. It is interesting to note that the freeing of prisoners was also part of the sede vacante activities. See John M. Hunt, The Vacant See in Early Modern Rome: A Social History of the Papal Interregnum (Leiden: Brill, 2016), 75. 302 Le croniche di Giovanni Sercambi, 421–24. For Esch, the jubilee was just a long-lasting affair between 1390 to 1400. See Esch, “I giubilei del 1390 e del 1400.” Hélène Millet, “Le grand pardon du Pape (1390) et celui de l’Année Sainte (1400),” in L’église du grand schisme: 1378–1417 (Paris: Picard, 2009), 256–62, also does not find tangible proof of a formal calling of the jubilee. 303 Esch, “I giubilei del 1390 e del 1400,” 294; and Millet, “Le grand pardon,” 255–56. 304 Gregorovius, Rome, 575.

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288 l rome during the schism slaughtering eleven of the fourteen communal envoys who were involved in negotiation with the pope.305 Their murder started an insurrection. The insurgency of August 1405 was discussed previously. One of its witnesses, Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, after naming the eleven original victims, specifies that they were killed “in the house where lived the mother of Pope Boniface” at the Hospital of Sancto Spirito,306 and “they were thrown through the windows [and fell] near the ‘amulam’ where the Veronica was exposed.”307 The term Amulam is ambiguous. It may refer to a frame, or a stand, in the same way a ciborium evolved into a frame for an image, real or imaginary.308 An image found in the Liber Regulae (fol. 15v.) of the Order of the Holy Ghost attached to the hospital depicts the icon. It shows a rectangular cloth within an oval frame.309 Five years after the Bianchi, even though the Veronica was physically absent from the location, its symbolic importance to the murders was nevertheless felt. Enough for a chronicler to notice. They were killed where the Veronica had stood. The victims had been brought and murdered at a location attached to the papacy. Since 1208, and under Innocent III, the church of the hospital of Sancto Spirito was a station in the Procession of the Veronica that occurred on the first Sunday of the octave of the Epiphany.310 The Veronica

305

Gregorovius, Rome, 575–77. According to Arnold Esch, the Hospital of Sancto Spirito acted as general quarter of the Neapolitan clan, and it was the location where “politic was discussed.” Everyone was aware of it in Rome, residents and visitors. Esch mentions Boniface IX’s aged mom receiving foreign dignitaries requesting her support – an interesting image of a pope’s mother as “godmother” of a clan. See Arnold Esch, “Le clan des familles napolitaines au sein du Sacré Collège d’Urbain VI et de ses successeurs, et les Brancacci de Rome et d’Avignon,” in Genèse et débuts du grand schisme d’Occident, ed. Jean Favier (Paris: Éditions du CNRS, 1980), 498–99. 307 “Item omnes supradicti fuerunt interfecti in hospitale Sancti Spiritus in domo, ubi habitabat mater pape Boniphatii . . . et post mortem supradictorum, fuerunt progecti per finestras prope amulam, ubi hostendebatur Veronicam.” Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 9. Since Innocent III’s bull “Ad commemorandas nuptias” was dated January 3, 1208, on the Sunday following Epiphany, S. Pietro canons proceeded with the effigy from S. Pietro to the hospital, “mandat et statuit, ut effigies Iesu Christi eodem die a b. Petri basilica per eiusdem canonicos ad dictum hospitale deportatur.” see August Potthast, Regesta Pontificum Romanorum inde ab a. post Christum natum 1198 ad a. 1304 (Graz: Akademische Druck- u. Verlagsanstalt, c. 1874; repr., 1957), 278. According to an anonymous work, Veronica or The Holy Face (London: Thomas Richardson, 1870), 24, “it appears that the holy towel was at the house of S. Spirito in Sassia, in a little chamber entirely made of iron and marble, secured with six locks and keys, which were entrusted to six Roman families. It was exposed only once a year.” This seems an error. 308 See, for example, the second level of Boniface’s benediction loggia, which reminds of Arnolfo di Cambio’s Ciborio at Santa Cecilia. 309 See Gisela Drossbach, “The Roman Hospital of Santo Spirito in Sassia and the Cult of the Vera Icon,” in The European Fortune of the Roman Veronica in the Middle Ages, ed. Amanda C. Murphy, Herbert L. Kessler, Marco Petoletti, Eamon Duffy, Guido Milanese, and Veronika Tvrzníková (Turnhout: Brepols, 2017), 158–67. 310 See Andreas Rehberg, “Nuntii, questuarii, falsarii: L’ospedale di S. Spirito in Sassia e la raccolta delle elemosine nel period avignonese,” Mélanges de l’École française de Rome, moyen-âge 115 (2003): 90; Rehberg, “L’ospedale di Santo Spirito nell’ età avignonese: La protezione della Curia e vicende politiche a Roma,” in L’antico Ospedale di Santo Spirito: Dall’istituzione papale alla sanità del terzo millennio (Rome: Il Veltro Editrice, 2001), 1: 95–104; and “I papi, l’ospedale and l’ordine di S. Spirito nell’età avignonese,” Archivio della Società Romana di Storia Patria 124 (2001): 35–140. See also Rebecca Rist, “Innocent III and the Roman Veronica: Papal PR or Eucharistic Icon?”; and 306

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The Veronica k 289 testified to the awesomeness of papal powers, which could bind and unbind lives – note that they were killed under the rule of Innocent VII at a place glorified by another Innocent, the third, some two hundred years earlier. But most relevant for the present discussion, both sides reverted to cultural symbols. The Romans toyed with papal ritual, while papal defenders toyed with ritualized violence. Innocent’s rule was short lived. In November 1406, the Roman obedience elected Gregory XII. He left for Savona a few months later, intent on meeting the pope of the Avignonese obedience. Again, Rome suffered from political collapse. Ladislaus’s troops roamed the countryside and hampered provisioning during the cold winter of 1408. All these events combined to create scarcity. Cereals and pilgrims were not reaching the city; bread and money were in dire shortage. The cardinal-vicar’s response was swift. He fell back on the symbol of papal authority, the Veronica. A month or so before Ladislaus entered the city, the veil was exposed three times in March 1408: on Wednesday, the 7th, Sunday, the 11th, and Wednesday, the 28th. In the last ostension, ceremonies were more intense than previously, accompanied by a procession in S. Pietro that had been ordered by the cardinal-vicar and the city’s conservators. The chronicler’s mention of the conservatores indicates that the political hold the pope held on the symbol was slipping out of his hand. The Veronica, symbol of papal Christological authority was now associated with the communal lay government. Never before had the Veronica been displayed by order of the pope and another entity. Furthermore, the Veronica was usually displayed for edification in a fixed location. Now she was exhibited in various locales to call attention to the shortage of bread, and also to the state of the world, “so God would send peace to the world, and unify the Church.”311 The Veronica was brought out to see and testify. She was the eyes of God, an actor engaged in the history of Rome, ready to intervene in the city’s destiny. As Lasse Hodne demonstrates, this sensoriality belongs to the general understanding of God’s portraiture in the late Middle Ages. Discussing Nicholas of Cusa, Hodne states, In his De visione Dei, Nicholas of Cusa addresses two aspects of divine vision: my desire to see God and God’s capacity to see me. The latter aspect is distinguished by absolute power: God’s gaze is all-seeing. To explain this peculiar power Cusa introduces what he calls the figure of an “omnivoyant.” This is a portrait with its eyes turned towards the spectator so that the gaze of the depicted person appears to follow the spectator.312

311

312

Uwe Michael Lang, “Origins of the Liturgical Veneration of the Roman Veronica,” in The European Fortune of the Roman Veronica in the Middle Ages, ed. Amanda C. Murphy, Herbert L. Kessler, Marco Petoletti, Eamon Duffy, Guido Milanese, and Veronika Tvrzníková (Turnhout: Brepols, 2017), 114–25 and 144–57, respectively. Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 25–26. The Veronica was displayed sparingly, during jubilees and for Easter. Most often, ceremonies were private. See, for example, in the second life of Gregory XI, Baluze, Vitae, 1: 442, “Die vero vicesima prima dicti mensis [januarii], qua erat festum sancte Agnetis, celebravit summo mane secrete, januis clausis, in altari Sancti Petri, et posuit Veronicam sanctam supra altare; et dicta missa, retulit eam in loco suo.” Lasse Hodne, “Omnivoyance: The Use of Optical Illusion in the Depiction of the Face of God in Medieval Art,” www.academia.edu/1758120/Omnivoyance_The_Use_of_Optical_Illusion_in_the_ Depiction_of_the_Face_of_God_in_Medieval_Art (accessed on February 22, 2021). The theory is repeated in the paper’s abstract. He states, “The illusion of omnivoyance (also called the Mona Lisa

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290 l rome during the schism It should be noted that the medieval Veronica is traditionally represented with her eyes open, while kept in a closed-door shrine. This indicates that the Veronica was perceived as having the option to see and was expected to see when she was displayed outside of her shrine, when the doors were opened for her. Enclosed, she was sheltered from being seen and also from actually seeing. This seems to indicate that God could not see in the dark, a theological impossibility. Thus, during the early modern period, she appeared with her eyes closed, maybe as a way to remedy the medieval theological error.313 In this case, we get a first hint at a transformation of the Veronica from inanimate display to witness. As argued in Chapter 5, liturgists like Pierre Ameil were constructing papal authority during the Schism on one papal body, at once institutional and physical, and on the pope’s Christological bond. Papal authority was often staged as Christological. The Veronica emphasized this uniqueness. Only the true pope could reveal the sweat and blood of Christ. But, in these chaotic years, the image testified to what “she” was actually “seeing” while exposed: the suffering of the Roman people, a symbol of their righteousness as seen through her eyes. The Veronica was becoming for the Romans what the Lady of Impruneta was for the Florentines: “the Lady of Impruneta, like so many other images, was thought to possess sensory attributes.”314 After a first wave of expositions, one of the most venerated symbols of the papacy became enmeshed with the politics of the Schism.315 The Veronica took to the center stage because it was God’s medium to Rome. Once out of its shelter, it/she, thus God, saw the Romans’ tribulations and suffering. It was displayed in March 1409 to bid farewell to Ladislaus, and in October 1409 to protect the city from famine. It is during this period that the Veronica was transferred from S. Pietro to Castel Sant’Angelo, while Louis of Anjou and the cardinal-legate of St. Eustache (Baldassare Cossa, representative of the Pisan obedience and future John XXIII) entered the Vaticano. By withdrawing her presence from Alexander V’s envoys, she was showing her support for Gregory.316 In a certain sense, the Veronica also explains Antonio dello Schiavo’s ease with liturgical infringements. She/God witnessed events and could excuse Romans by force majeure. On October 3, 1409, the Veronica was brought to the house of a Giovanni Oleo, and there she saw to the preparation of bread that was cooked at the “Paradiso Sancti Petri.”317 The windmill on the Tiber, the “mola Sancti Spiritus” had been destroyed by some Romans (a way to support one’s obedience was to starve the other by destroying its mills).

effect) as an embodiment of mysterious powers is suited for the representation of the Supreme Being in any religion, but its central position in Christian art may be due to the fact that the Christian god is defined as all-seeing. The conscious use of this effect throughout the Middle Ages is testified to not only by the systematic use of the full-face view in representations of divinity but also by the inclusion of inscriptions that emphasise God’s absolute nature in the same way as omnivoyance does.” 313 See Giovanni Morello, “Or fu sì fatta la sembianza vostra?: La Veronica di San Pietro: Storia ed imagine,” in La Basilica di San Pietro: Fortuna e imagine, ed. Giovanni Morello (Rome: Gangemi Editore, 2012), 39–80, for a general study of the Veronica. 314 Richard C. Trexler, Public Life in Renaissance Florence (New York: Cornell Paperbacks, 1991), 68. 315 On the traditional activities linked to the icon, see Morello, “La Veronica nostra,” 161–67. 316 Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 45. 317 Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 45.

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The Veronica k 291 As an aside, the Veronica was not the only image moved and protected. Discussing the entry and partial destruction of S. Pietro by Ladislaus’s men (the Count of Trogie and Nicolao Colonna) in November 1409, Antonio dello Schiavo mentions that Caterina de Stefano Paoli, accompanied by other women, went to the monastery of St. Catherine. It was located near the recently destroyed gate at S. Pietro, “and they took away St. Catherine of this monastery and carried her to the house of the said lord Stefano Paoli in the Trastevere and there she stayed 5 hours or more. Then the said women carried the said St. Catherine to the monastery called della Rosa.” The description can only refer to an image carried by resourceful women intent on saving it.318 We can note that the Trastevere was her place of temporary refuge. As for the Veronica, she returned to S. Pietro in January 1410, when papal troops of the Pisan obedience entered the city; only then was she formally presented to Louis of Anjou in September and December 1410. The occasion was celebrated with solemnities. The entire chapter of S. Pietro waited for the duke/king at the head of the stairs. The choir had been decorated with the liturgical colors of the feast of Corpus Christi. The king, vested in the canon of S. Pietro’s surplice, participated in high mass and was presented the Veronica.319 The city, the pope, the Veronica, and the liturgy of Corpus Christi all united in bringing coherence back. The exact same ritual was repeated for Christmas 1410, before Louis left the city.320 The Veronica accompanied John XXIII during the festivities honoring his entry in April 1411. She was displayed at S. Pietro, in front of all “her” Roman people. Antonio dello Schiavo adds that the pope had asked to forego the traditional ostension on Holy Thursday and Friday for his advent. The pope’s adventus was accompanied by great festivities and games. The Veronica was displayed again on Easter Sunday. She witnessed the return of the “true” pope and defender of the church.321 But times were still difficult for the Romans. She provided protection from a cold winter and grain shortage again in March 1412. Called upon on Thursday, March 24, on the vigil of the Annunciation, Antonio dello Schiavo remarks that she was displayed by order of the senator and conservators. The Veronica still belonged to the people of Rome and had not yet returned to the pope.322 Enmeshed in Roman politics, the Veronica supported Ladislaus’s control of the city in November 1413 when she was displayed for Ladislaus’s representative, the count of Trogie, on November 19, as he readied to leave the city. And for a last time during the Schism, she appeared in April 1417 to bless eastern European pilgrims.323 In April, the cardinal-legate of St. Eustache ordered the ostension of the Veronica in S. Pietro for Hungarian, Slavic, German, and Bohemian pilgrims. The arrival of these pilgrims was certainly related to the Council of Constance execution of Jan Hus.324 318

Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 49. This monastery also called monasterium sanctae Catarinae de Portica Sancti Petri, was a fourteenth-century foundation supporting Roman aristocratic virgins. See Christian Hülsen, Le chiese di Roma nel medio evo (Florence: Leo S. Olschki, 1927), 235–36. 319 Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 62. 320 Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 66. 321 Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 66. 322 Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 73. 323 Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 83. 324 Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo, 108.

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292 l rome during the schism For some twenty years, the Veronica witnessed the ebb and flow of Roman politics and was ultimately the protection Romans could secure against their enemies. It took some three years for Martin V to reach his see after his election at the Council of Constance in November 1417. The efforts engaged for his return symbolize the last throes of medieval Rome. As Elizabeth McCahill states, “In 1417, condottieri dominated the Papal States, and Martin had to negotiate, plot, and raise money for an army before it was safe – and even possible – for him to return to Rome.”325 He traveled from Constance, to Geneva, Pavia, Milan, Mantua, and Florence, before entering the city in September 1420. A new Rome would arise, physically and politically sanitized from its medieval past. In the meantime, the Schism had allowed the Commune to shine for a few brief years after its dissolution. Still, it is remarkable that for a couple of generations, opponents if not enemies mimicked the performance of the papacy. The fluidity that we have encountered in the manipulation of papal symbolism demonstrates that even when weakened and under attack, papal performance and its co-optation remained a beacon of attraction.

325

McCahill, Reviving the Eternal City, 2.

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7 Avignon during the Schism

ROME, Avignon remained contested ground throughout the Schism. Secular and religious authorities opposed each other for supremacy, marking the urban landscape through various means. Space became constitutive of and performed authority. As emphasis on the Trastevere, Castel Sant’Angelo, the Lateran, and what I call a Lateranization of the Capitolio, define Roman narratives, St. Didier parish appears distinctively in Avignon’s. In both cities, the areas were remarkably offcentered, away from the traditional location of power. In Avignon, St. Didier was symmetrically opposed to St. Étienne, the papal fortress’ parish. We will see it slowly evolving from the somewhat “polluted” site of capital executions to the meeting ground of the city’s council. In Rome, the Trastevere opposed diagonally the Capitolio, Vaticano, and Laterano. Both cities focused on specific monuments, symbols of “tyranny”: Castle Sant’Angelo in Rome, and the Tour Quiquengrogne in Avignon. And finally, in both cases, communal authorities attempted to seize the helm while palatial authorities keeled over. After delimiting the city’s social topography, the following will argue that, while secular and religious powers aligned their politics during the early years of the Schism, the Avignon of Clement VII was totally in sync with its pope, who relied heavily on the French Angevin to defend his politics, as two Subtractions of Obediences, a first in 1398–1403, and a second between 1408–1411, weakened resolve and allowed secular authorities to free themselves from the papal “yoke.” Here, civic authorities performed with or against the pope and crown. Rome took advantage of papal weakness to counterperform the papacy, inherently showing that as such it still respected papal performance by appropriating it. In contrast, Avignon, and most of all its leading French authorities and cardinals, showed that their domination aimed at establishing a new order of things, liberated as much as possible from papal interferences. They attempted to create performance free from papal tradition. Much smaller than Rome, Avignon is dwarfed by the history, culture, and topography of its rival. But the capital of Latin Christianity for most of the Trecento really had nothing to envy from its transalpine rival. More compact and concentrated, it was a city easier to rule;

L

IKE

k 293 https://doi.org/10.1017/9781316717691.008

294 l avignon during the schism it was the backbone of its papacy, rather than a thorn in its foot.1 Unlike the long history of its rival, Avignon went unnoticed for centuries. Still, it grew in size from its privileged geographical location. As Étienne Delaruelle underscores, the installation of the papacy in Avignon was in certain ways the culmination of a movement that had started much earlier. With the loss of the Christian Levant and Africa during the Middle Ages, Rome was no longer the center of a Christianity, which had moved further north and west. Avignon was closer than Rome to the Kingdom of Arles and locations of some of the Church’s earliest settlements in Gaul, including Lyon, Vienne, Orange, and Marseille. Avignon was also at the confluence of two major international roads, essential to the Church: the north-south route along the Rhône valley and the transversal route along the Durance valley (the old via Domitia into northern Italy). With the former, Rome had communicated with the langue d’oil, that is Normandy, Britain, and Flanders; with the latter, with northern Italy, southwest France, and the Languedoc. Unsurprisingly, most important medieval ecclesiastical councils took place in that corridor: Lyon in 1245 and again in 1274, and Vienne in 1313. Avignon positioned the Church much closer to the “new” Christian center.2 Delaruelle insists on a character of the city that is often eschewed. Avignon was a port, linking Provence, Sicily, southern Italy, north Africa, the Levant, Aragon, and Catalonia. Christine Gadrat-Ouerfelli has recently emphasized how Petrarch’s insult toward the city, calling it the “Babylon of the West,” could in fact be a compliment. Avignon was a multicultural city where all kinds of languages were spoken, where the spices and textiles of the world arrived, and where the Orient was the topic of many conversations.3 Clement V chose to settle temporarily in Avignon, for its proximity to Vienne, site of the council he had convened. It is Benedict XII who established residency by ordering the construction of a new Apostolic Palace.4 Avignon then belonged to the count of Provence, but in 1348 Joanna of Naples agreed to sell the city to Clement VI.5

1

For the general topographies of the city during the fourteenth century, see Joëlle Rollo-Koster, “Mercator Florentinensis and Others: Immigration in Papal Avignon,” in Urban and Rural Communities in Medieval France, ed. Kathryn L. Reyerson and John Drendel (Leiden: Brill, 1998), 73–100; The People of Curial Avignon: A Critical Edition of the Liber Divisionis and the Matriculae of Notre Dame la Majour (Lampeter; Lewinston: The Edwin Mellen Press, 2009); and Avignon and Its Papacy (1309–1417): Popes, Institutions, and Society (Lanham: Rowman and Littlefield, 2015), 189–238; and Guido Castelnuovo, “Migrants et marchands: Les Italiens à Avignon à la fin du Moyen Âge (XIVe–XVe siècles),” in Le Palais des Baroncelli entre Toscane et Provence, ed. Sylvestre Clap (Avignon: NE, 2020), 12–32. 2 Étienne Delaruelle, “Avignon capitale,” Revue géographique des Pyrénées et du Sud-Ouest 23 (1952): 237–38. 3 Christine Gadrat-Ouerfelli, “Avignon, porte pour l’Orient: Première moitié du xive siècle,” in Villes méditerranéennes au Moyen Âge, ed. Élisabeth Malamut et Mohamed Ouerfelli (Aix-en-Provence: Presses universitaires de Provence, 2014), 297. 4 See Ut per litteras, Benoît XII, #000805 (February 1, 1341); and Rollo-Koster, Avignon and Its Papacy, 49. On the palace of the pope, see Sylvain Gagnière, Le palais des papes d’Avignon (Paris: Caisse nationale des monuments historiques, 1965); Dominique Vingtain, Avignon: Le palais des papes (La Pierre-qui-Vire: Éd. Zodiaque, 1998); and Gottfried Kerscher, Architektur als Repräsentation: Spätmittelalterliche Palastbaukunst zwischen Pracht und zeremoniellen Voraussetzungen, Avignon – Mallorca – Kirchenstaat (Tübingen: Wasmuth 2000). 5 Anne-Marie Hayez, “Le conseil de la ville supplie la reine Jeanne de ne pas vendre Avignon,” in Avignon au moyen âge: Textes et documents (Avignon: Aubanel, 1988), 97–102.

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Avignon during the Schism k 295 Avignon was the first crossing from the Rhône delta; St. Benezet bridge made the city’s name and fortune.6 The last years of the Avignon papacy, and the return of Gregory XI to Rome, did not change this focus on the bridge. A quick survey of the few communal registers left at the departmental archives of the Vaucluse – the treasuries’ registers for the gabelles taxes on salt, wine, and merchandises – show the attention paid to the bridge.7 Largely, the expenses drawn from these taxes concerned the defense of the city against bands of roaming mercenaries and dredging the Durance and Durançole rivers, but the various pillars of the bridge and its tower, including payments to a sculptor/painter for the statue in the grande tour of the bridge, comprised the greatest expense of all. Agostino Paravicini Bagliani has recently asked if Avignon was another Rome during the Middle Ages.8 It is evident that curial practices of the central Middle Ages familiarized Christianity with the idea that Rome was where the pope and his curia resided, ubi papa, ibi Roma. Popes moved to Viterbo, Anagni, and Perugia, to avoid Rome’s unhealthy summer heat. In the thirteenth century, the Laterano became the popes’ “Winter Palace.” This banalized seasonal mobility was devoid of contingencies, political or otherwise. It was recognized in the rituals of papal accession, with, for example, the reversal of the traditional Roman ceremony of possession. Because the thirteenth century saw many popes elected outside of Rome, the papal consecration at S. Pietro gained priority over the possession (posseso) of the Laterano chair, symbol of the pope’s episcopalian seat over Rome. Thus, when Clement V established himself in Avignon at the beginning of the fourteenth century, to remain closer to “his” Council of Vienne, he did not shatter protocol. What did so was the eventual length of this stay outside of Rome, with decades replacing the traditional months of seasonal exile.9 Agostino Paravicini Bagliani is accurate in identifying the impact of this prolonged sojourn away from Rome. He suggests that the longer the papacy remained in Avignon, the more people reshaped Rome in their minds. It would have been inconceivable to strip Rome of its centralized position in Christianity. But views of the city were distorted, and its centrality could be questioned, especially vis–à–vis a growing conceptualization of Europe. Avignon needed to remain Roman, if only for its legitimacy. Clement VI built the Chapels of St. Peter and St. John in his new palace, honoring traditionally Roman saints, and established simultaneously in his sermons a hierarchy between both.10 Delaruelle, “Avignon capitale,” 238–39. The importance of the bridge is highlighted by the fact that its sustaining arches were destroyed more than once during the Schism, and popes offered indulgences to those who helped finance its repairs and made donations to its hospital. See Le Marquis de Ripert-Monclar, Bullaire des indulgences concédées avant 1431 à l’œuvre du Pont d’Avignon (Paris: Picard, 1912). 7 See for 1376–1378, ADV, CC 1011 fols. 118v., 133v.–34, 167v., 168, 274, for bulls authorizing the levy of the gabelles. 8 Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, “Avignon, une autre Rome?,” in Images and Words in Exile: Avignon and Italy in the First Half of the Fourteenth Century (ca. 1310–1352), ed. Elisa Brilli, Laura Fenelli, and Gerhard Wolf (Florence: SISMEL-Edizioni del Galluzzo, 2015), 241–57. 9 On Clement V, see Rollo-Koster, Avignon and Its Papacy, 32–44. 10 For Clement, John’s intellectual and spiritual dominance over Peter demonstrated the superiority of contemplative over active lives. John represented the various facets of the Church: Apostles, prophets, evangelist, pastor, doctor, virgin, and martyr. See Étienne Anheim, Clément VI au travail: Lire, écrire, prêcher au XIVe siècle (Paris: Éditions de la Sorbonne, 2014), 285. Additional references can be found in the palace. The main entrance gate (Porte des Champeaux) was originally named 6

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296 l avignon during the schism Like Rome, Avignon was originally a self-governing Commune headed by consuls named by lots with episcopal approval.11 The Commune had a certain level of autonomy. But the city made some fateful choices during the Albigensian crusade and eventually lost its independence due to its support of the counts of Toulouse against the French Capetians. The county to which it belonged, the Comtat Venaissin, was seized by the papacy, while Avignon remained property of the counts of Toulouse until 1251, when dynastic alliances transferred Provence to Capetian rule.12 The Jewish population was under the supervision of the same Temporal court. At the dawn of the fourteenth century, the agent of the count of Provence, the sénéchal, appointed a vicar and judges who oversaw the city’s politics, justice, and administration. The vicar chose members of the city council, which in turn appointed syndics who ran municipal affairs – they oversaw the levying of taxes and tolls. A sub-vicar supervised the municipal police, with ten companions serving as his personal guard. Thirty-two sergeants, headed by a captain, maintained public order. This certainly was not the government of the Roman banderesi. During the papal residency, the town was still governed by a vicar, named yearly in October (usually a foreigner to the city), with the two judges of the Temporal Court. The vicar could choose a lieutenant to replace him. Policing was still handled by sub-vicars and a clavaire, who dealt with justice’s fees and fines. The city council, which represented the citizenry, was composed of a mix of nobles, middle-class townspeople, and lawyers jurisperitii named by the vicar. Imminent foreigners could be allowed into it, such as Giovanni de Cario from Bologna, active between 1368 and 1377. The council elected yearly two syndics (a noble and a bourgeois) and an assessor, who acted as legal support. The council did not have its own location – proof that contrary to Rome’s Senate and assembly, it carried little weight and was far from being institutionalized. Locations varied from the Temporal court, the residence of one of the counselors, the cloister of the Church of St. Pierre, or a chapel. According to the few deliberation registers kept at the Archives of the Vaucluse, most meetings took place at the house of the vicar, which was located near the Temporal court, or in the sacristy of the Church of St. Pierre.13

11

12

13

the Gate of Peter and Paul. See, for example, Bernhard Schimmelpfennig, “Die Funktion des Papstpalastes und der kurialen Gesellschaft im Päpstlichen Zeremoniell vor und während des Grossen Schismas,” in Genèse et débuts du grand schisme d’Occident, ed. Jean Favier (Paris: Éditions du Centre national de la recherche scientifique, 1980), 317–28. See Léon-Honoré Labande, Avignon au XIIIe siècle, l’évêque Zoen Tencarari et les avignonnais (Paris: Picard, 1908), for a history of the city during the thirteenth century. St. Louis’s brothers Alphonse of Poitiers and Charles of Anjou reorganized Avignon’s institutions and mostly reformed its judicial system – let us not forget, justice and its fines were always a preferred source of revenue in the Middle Ages. A vicar (viguier) represented the counts, and he appointed two judges by name yearly. The latter headed the Temporal Court of justice that dealt with the citizenry. Guillaume Mollat, “Les conflits de juridiction entre le maréchal de la cour pontificale et le viguier d’Avignon au XIVe siècle,” Provence historique 4 (1954): 11–18. Anne-Marie Hayez, “Avignon, son seigneur et son conseil de ville au XIVème siècle,” Mémoires de l’Académie de Vaucluse 8, no. 6 (1997): 37–60. St. Pierre was also the parish where most notaries practiced their trade, see Mathieu Allingri, “L’activité et les relations d’un grand notaire avignonnais au tournant des XIVe et XVe siècles: Giorgio Briconi,” Mélanges de l’École française de Rome, moyen-âge 121 (2009): 377–416.

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Avignon during the Schism k 297 Extant evidence supports the assertion that Avignon’s governance was essentially focused on taxes and justice.14 The most significant event in the history of Avignon was its 1348 purchase from Joanna, Countess of Naples.15 Respectful of local sensibilities, Clement VI forewent the transfer’s ceremony of fealty, which was postponed to his successor Innocent VI. Starting on April 10, 1358, and continuing over the next several days, some 780 citizens and 200 Jews promised allegiance to the pope and the Church.16 Allegiance was renewed in 1363 under Urban V who also confirmed the 1251 conventions.17 When the papacy first left for Rome under Urban V, the administrations of the Comtat Venaissin and Avignon remained separate.18 In 1370, the pope came back, the vicar having maintained continuity during his absence.19 In 1376, when Gregory XI returned to Rome, he

14

15

16

17

18

19

See Rollo-Koster, The People of Curial Avignon, 11–38. See also the itemization of tribunals in Victor Hyppolyte Chambaud, “Notice sur l’organisation judiciaire dans l’ancien Comtat Venaissin, depuis le milieu du xiie siècle jusqu’a l’année 1790, d’après les documents originaux existant [sic] dans les archives de cette province,” in Documents historiques inédits tirés des collections manuscrites de la bibliothèque royale, vol. 5, Number 10, Partie 3, ed. M. Champollion Figeac (Paris: Typographie de Firmin Didot frères, 1847), 152–94. Regarding the duties of the Marshall of the Roman Court, see Ut per litteras, #005050 (January 10, 1333) letter that itemizes the duties of the Marshall. Cardinals and their respective auditors prosecuted cases regarding their own households. The auditor of the Apostolic Chamber took charge of the cases regarding religious courtiers (or curiales) and religious petitioners. On issues of jurisdiction, see Bernard Guillemain, “Citoyens, juifs et courtisans dans Avignon pontificale au XIVe siècle,” Bulletin philologique et historique (à 1610) du Comité des Travaux Historiques et Scientifiques (1961): 147–60; Louis Duval-Arnould, “Les registres de la cour temporelle d’Avignon à la bibliothèque vaticane,” Mélanges de l’École française de Rome, moyen âge, temps modernes 92 (1980): 289–324. Pope Clement VI bought Avignon for 80,000 fl. The Avignonese fought this decision for unclear reasons. On February 13, 1347, the Council’s representatives, the syndic knight Jean d’Aurons and the bourgeois Dalmas Brotinel, met Joanna in the royal chamber of her palace in Aix-en-Provence. They kissed the ground at her feet in a sign of peace and formally petitioned her not to sell, exchange, mortgage, or transfer the city to any person, entity, the College, or community. The queen promised that she would not and guaranteed them that in the case she would, the Avignoneses would not be coerced into paying homage or swearing fealty to another political entity. They all swore over the Gospels to maintain the liberties, immunities, franchises, privileges, and conventions previously ratified in 1251. The petition is transcribed by Anne-Marie Hayez in “Le conseil de la ville supplie la reine Jeanne de ne pas vendre Avignon,” in Avignon au moyen âge: Textes et documents (Avignon: Aubanel, 1988), 97–102. The document can be found at ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, boîte 32, no. 934. It is discussed by Guillemain, La cour pontificale d’Avignon, 628–42; and Anne-Marie Hayez, “Citoyens et notables avignonnais au milieu du XIVe siècle,” Bulletin philologique et historique du comité des travaux historiques (1982–84): 199–219. Urbain V, Ut per litteras, #005447 (May 5, 1363). This letter states that Urban followed into the footsteps of Innocent VI who had renewed the 1251 conventions on March 28, 1358, a few days before the oath of allegiance of the city to its pope. Upon leaving in 1367, Urban had required that resident-aliens who stayed in Avignon be de facto naturalized. Urbain V, Ut per litteras, #019710 (March 26, 1367). Urban specified that he was approving this request from the community of Avignon to allow for its defense. The court’s departure depleted its population and the city needed men. Urban also proceeded to remove Avignonese citizens from external jurisdiction. See Urbain V, Ut per litteras, #019711 (March 26, 1367), and 019712 (March 26, 1367). See Rollo-Koster, The People of Curial Avignon.

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298 l avignon during the schism joined both positions of vicar and rector of the Comtat into a single charge. The office of vicar/ rector remained in place throughout the Schism. In 1434, the conflict between Eugene IV and the Council of Basel over who should govern Avignon and the Comtat forced a compromise that replaced the vicar/rector with a papal legate.20 This legacy survived until the French Revolution. Papal control over the region ended in 1791, when Avignon and the Comtat became French. Papal rule of the city was tied to its financial assize. The papacy did its best to steer clear from direct involvement unless it needed funds to invest in the city’s infrastructure and defense. Essentially, it got involved with Avignon when it benefited its aims. However, this statement could be the result of the quality of our sources. Much of what we know from medieval and schismatic Avignon rests on financial documentation. When companies of mercenaries roamed the Comtat Venaissin and threatened Avignon, defense became pressing. Innocent VI ordered the construction of new walls that he funded only partially. He demanded that communal authorities formulate a new scheme to increase revenues. The answer came with the gabelles tax, levied on wine, salt, and merchandise, and farmed to the highest bidder. Victor Hyppolyte Chambaud defines the gabelles in the fourteenth century as levied on “almost all things that served to feed, dress, and shelter; basically all things needed or useful to the population.”21 Communal deliberations, according to the registers we have left, centered most often on the disbursement of these funds. The tax was collected as merchandise arrived at the gates of the city, and its revenues supported the construction of the new large walls, with the mercenaries that defended it.22

Social Topography of Papal Avignon he arrival of the papacy had a dramatic effect on the city’s demographics. Its first effect was a surge in numbers. Yves Renouard estimates a population of around 5,000–6, 000 inhabitants before the papacy, and close to 30,000 in the 1370s.23 The initial sharp

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21 22

23

On the early legates, see François Baron, Le cardinal Pierre de Foix le Vieux (1386–1464) et ses légations (Amiens: Imprimerie Yvert et Tellier, 1920–22); and Léon-Honoré Labande, Avignon au XVe siècle: Légation de Charles de Bourbon et du cardinal Julien de La Rovère (Paris: A. Picard, 1920). Chambaud, “Notice sur l’organisation judiciaire,” 177. See Rollo-Koster, Avignon and Its Papacy, 203, 230–31, 251. On the gabelles, see Pierre Pansier, “Annales avignonnaises de 1370–1382 d’après le livre des mandats de la gabelle,” Annales d’ Avignon et du Comtat Venaissin 3 (1914–15): 5–72; and “Les gabelles d’Avignon de 1310 à 1397,” Annales d’ Avignon et du Comtat Venaissin 11 (1926): 37–63; Guillaume Mollat, “L’adjudication de la gabelle du vin en Avignon (1367),” Annuaire de la société des amis du palais des papes et des monuments d’Avignon (1936): 35–39; Anne-Marie Hayez, “Les gabelles d’Avignon d’ Innocent VI à Grégoire XI,” in Actes du 102ième congrés national des sociétés savantes (Paris: CTHS, 1979), 171–206; and “Travaux à l’enceinte d’Avignon sous les pontificats d’Urbain V et de Grégoire XI,” in Actes du 101ième congrès national des sociétés savantes (Paris: CTHS, 1978), 193–203. The thick register ADV, archives communales d’Avignon CC 1010, especially fols. 1–108, are easily readable, and CC 1011 offer a good idea of how funds were spent. Regarding these numbers, see Yves Renouard, The Avignon Papacy (New York: Archon Books, 1970), 8, 93. Anne Marie and Michel Hayez concur, see “Juifs d’Avignon au tribunal de la cour temporelle sous Urbain V,” Provence historique 23 (1973): 173. In his chapter on papal Avignon in the Histoire d’Avignon, Guillemain estimates a population of 30,000 to 38,000. See Sylvain Gagnière, Histoire d’Avignon (Aix-en Provence: Edisud, 1979), 213.

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Social Topography of Papal Avignon k 299 demographic increase precipitated a housing shortage that was solved with “paid” semivoluntary requisitions, or direct purchases. The papal administration inventoried what was available and allocated housing according to needs. The real estate market thrived. While the housing shortage was problematic to a certain extent, it allowed some to profit from higher demand and prices.24 The city grew more or less concentrically toward the south, east, and west, outside its original nucleus within the thirteenth century walls. Citizens and newcomers settled beyond the old foundations, defining new urban areas called bourgs, with the development of fifty or so in the southern and eastern portions of the city. The new walls constructed in the second half of the fourteenth century protected these new settlements. The bourgs held anywhere from a few to a hundred houses on parcels of land leased for the long term. Generally, modest immigrants populated them; the wealthy lived within the old walls.25 Avignon counted seven parishes, all founded centuries earlier: Saint Étienne, SaintSymphorien, Saint-Pierre, Saint-Geniès, Notre-Dame-la-Principale, Saint-Didier, and Saint-Agricol (see Map 2). As no new parish emerged during the papal sojourn, each parish was divided between the old nucleus within the old walls and a new peripheral zone inter muros, between old and new walls, usually populated by more modest folk. While Avignon did not divide into occupational zones per se, it still offered some occupational compartmentalization.26 Citizens clustered in the parishes of St. Didier to the south, St. Symphorien to the northeast, and St. Pierre to the east. St. Geniès and St. Didier held the largest proportion of agricultural laborers, tucked away from the Rhône’s main zone of flooding. Conversely, stevedores lived in the two parishes on the riverfront: St. Symphorien and St. Étienne. Unskilled laborers were spread evenly throughout all parishes, with slightly higher numbers in St. Symphorien, and lower in Notre-Dame-La-Principale and St. Agricol. Citizens left the traditional heart of the city, around St. Pierre and Notre-Dame-La-Principale, for the curial administration.27 Contrary to Rome, where the city was divided vertically with barons and their clients grouped in neighborhoods that spanned the lowest to the highest echelons, Avignon was organized around its territorial parishes. Occupations linked to the river stayed near it; and in general, the closer to the palace one resided, the more connected one was to the court.

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25 26

27

See Rollo-Koster, Avignon and Its Papacy, 180. Bernard Guillemain, La cour pontificale d’Avignon (1309–1376): Étude d’une société (Paris: Boccard, 1966), 497–514, 532–54; and Anne Marie Hayez, “Les bourgs avignonnais du XIVe siècle,” Bulletin philologique et historique (jusqu’à 1610) du comité des travaux historiques et scientifiques (Paris: CTHS, 1975), 77–102. Hayez, “Les bourgs avignonnais,” 77–102, discusses these bourgs at length. A document such as the Liber divisionis, a 1371 census of the population listing citizens and curiam romanam sequentes, or cortisiani, offers some data on its residents’ spatial range. See Joëlle RolloKoster, “Mercator Florentinensis and Others: Immigration in Papal Avignon,” in Urban and Rural Communities in Medieval France, ed. Kathryn L. Reyerson and John Drendel (Leiden: Brill, 1998), 73–100. See “Mercator Florentinensis and Others,” 81–100, for tables and analyses of activities and geographical location.

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300 l avignon during the schism

Map 2 Late Medieval Avignon. Illustration by Matilde Grimaldi

Avignon during the Schism: Social Topography

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e do not have documents like the Liber divisionis to analyze Avignon demographics during the Schism, but it seems that its first five years or so did not affect them much.28 Using the available notarial sources for the period (1390–1430, some sixty registers of notarial drafts for thirty-five notaries), Catherine Gros-Hayez’s analysis of the city during the

28

See Rollo-Koster, Avignon and Its Papacy, 255–57.

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Social Topography of Papal Avignon k 301 Schism is a reliable point of comparison with the earlier period.29 The first piece of evidence is the decline in the population after the Schism, and even more so after the departure of Benedict XIII in 1403. Avignon found itself with more open spaces. It was surrounded by agricultural land, vineyards, and gardens, which were sometimes left unkempt (hermes) during the Schism, due to the fear of marauding mercenary bands (the infamous routiers). Still, Avignon did not change much physically during the period. The notable exception was Clement VII’s foundation of the Célestins convent.30 Cardinals’ livrées (housing clusters) were abandoned or parceled into multiple residences for occupants of lesser standing.31 To offer an example of their scale, in 1382 Clement VII allowed the “dismantling” of a livrée in the parish St. Geniès, resulting in the freeing of thirty-two houses.32 With a contested papal rule, the city council and syndics regained some importance and found a permanent residence in Rue de l’Argenterie. By the late fourteenth century, the vicar lost his capacity to name all the members of the town’s council. In 1411, representatives of the city’s occupational groups were allowed to forward two members each to the council. In the 1420s, this was revised to favor members of linguistic nations: natives, French, and Italians.33 Three syndics represented the council from the ranks of the prominent citizenry. Still, Anne-Marie Hayez qualifies the city’s council as a simple deliberating body concerned mainly with basic policing.34 Catherine Gros-Hayez’s occupational analysis of the city does not indicate drastic changes from the earlier period. Innkeepers and woodworkers remained in St. Étienne. St. Agricol with its mazel and fish market still housed the food industry. Notre-Dame-la-Principale kept its banking stalls and agencies related to international and luxury commerce. Occupations related to the law were found near the Temporal Court in St. Pierre, joined by the majority of 29

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Catherine Gros-Hayez, “Mutations et permanences sociales à Avignon (1390–1430),” in École Nationale des Chartes: Positions des thèses soutenues par les élèves de la promotion de 1989 pour obtenir le diplôme d’archiviste paléographe (Paris: École des Chartes, 1989), 95–104; and “Tableau social d’une ancienne capitale de la Chrétienté: Avignon, 1390–1430,” in Actes du 115e congrès national des Sociétés Savantes, Avignon 1990 (Paris: CTHS, 1991), 251–58. The convent was built between 1396 and 1402, during France’s withdrawal of obedience. See Léopold Duhamel, “Les oeuvres d’art du monastère des célestins d’Avignon,” Bulletin monumental 54 (1888): 109–30, 217–55; Léon Honoré Labande, “La dernière fondation des papes d’Avignon: Le couvent des célestins,” L’art 52 (1903): 586–99; 53 (1904): 15–25, 70–78, 153–69, 209–14; Anne McGee Morganstern, “Pierre Morel, Master of Works in Avignon,” Art Bulletin 58 (1976): 324–49; and most recently, Alexandra Gajewski, “Art and Architecture in Avignon during the Great Schism: Remarks on Clement’s VII Foundations of Saint-Martial and Saint-Pierre-Célestin,” in Vom Weichen über den Schönen Stil zur Ars Nova: Neue Beiträge zur europäischen Kunst zwischen 1350 und 1470, ed. Jiří Fajt and Markus Hörsch (Cologne: Böhlau Verlag, 2018), 97–115; and Robert L. J. Shaw, The Celestine Monks of France, c. 1350–1450: Observant Reform in an Age of Schism, Council and War (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2018). On the livrées, see Rollo-Koster, Avignon and Its Papacy, 179–85. Anne-Marie Hayez, “Clément VII et Avignon,” in Genèse et début du grand schisme d’Occident, ed. Jean Favier (Paris: CNRS, 1980), 132. In 1441, Avignon promulgated its newly revised civic statutes, which defined the composition of its ruling city council as follows: a total of forty-eight members; each of the city’s three nations (native, ultramontane, and citramontane) chose sixteen representatives. Each nation’s representatives subsequently elected one of the three syndics. See André Barthélemy, “Le régime municipal d’ Avignon sous les papes,” Annales de l’École Palatine 1–14 (1921–25), 258. Hayez, “Clément VII et Avignon,” 127.

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302 l avignon during the schism spice merchants. St. Didier grouped artisans, and many leatherworkers, while St. Geniès and Symphorien housed a majority of farmers. As Gros-Hayez states, Avignon was still a city of “orphans” (la ville des déracinés), but by the time of the Schism, immigrants tended to remain in the city, integrated and assimilated within the ranks of the local population. They married Avignonese and participated in the city’s political life. While they were losing touch with their ancestors in faraway lands, they found in the city the solidarities that made their lives comfortable: neighborhoods of compatriots where one could hear one’s native tongue and enjoy occupational confraternities and parochial support.35 The consequences of the Schism on the large group of Italians, especially Florentine merchant-bankers who operated in the city, were mitigated. There was no mass exodus of Italian merchants from Avignon. When Clement VII returned to Avignon, Florentines still followed him, regardless of their native city’s Urbanist obedience. On October 8, 1381, Clement allowed Urbanist Florentines to travel and reside on Clementist lands for five years. Merchants negotiated deals and settlements by courting influential members of the curia and literally bought their protection. They still sold goods and lent funds to the papacy and its court but took more risks doing so. The infamous “right of reprisal” does not seem to have affected much of the merchant class. It seems that only forty individuals lost their property for their Urbanist allegiance while in the city. Needless to say, practicing commerce and merchant ventures in the Middle Ages was no simple task, and the Schism did not make it easier.36 The Schism did not affect the administrative centrality of the papal palace. Once the new palace had been completed in the 1340s, it centralized the offices of the Apostolic Chamber, Treasury, Chancery, camerlengo, and the Rota. There is no doubt that the most sensitive part of the papal fortress was the Tower of the Pope, subdivided from the bottom up into Lower Treasury, camerlengo’s chamber, pope’s chamber, Higher Treasury, and library. The treasury kept every single thing of value owned by the Church, from bags of currency to liturgical ornaments, jewelry, silverware, law books, archives, and the most important registers such as the Liber Censuum. But the Tower also kept the most secret chamber of the palace, the Camera secreta, or parva that may have taken center stage during the Schism’s many conciliabules. It was located against the Lower Treasury, directly linked by stairs to the higher chambers of the camerlengo and pope. It was also accessible from the exterior via stairs in the back of the palace’s garden, tucked away from prying eyes.37

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Gros-Hayez, “Mutations et permanences sociales à Avignon,” 98. See also Joëlle Rollo-Koster, “Forever After: The Dead in the Avignonese Confraternity of Notre Dame la Majour (1329–1381),” Journal of Medieval History 25 (1999): 115–40; and “Amongst Brothers: Italians’ Networks in Papal Avignon (1360s–1380s),” Medieval Prosopography 21 (2000): 153–89. See Rollo-Koster, Avignon and Its Papacy, 254–60. A 1411 inventory states, “In camera parva thesaurarie in qua dominus camerarius et gentes camere consueverunt tenere consilia secreta.” Roberte Lentsch, “La localisation et l’organisation matérielle des services administratifs au palais des Papes,” in Aux origines de l’État moderne: Le fonctionnement administratif de la papauté d’Avignon. Actes de la table ronde d’Avignon 23–24 janvier 1988 (Rome: École Française de Rome, 1990), 297. See also Dr. Colombe, “La grande trésorerie au palais apostolique d’Avignon,” Miscellanea Francesco Ehrle: Scritti di storia paleografia, pubblicati sotto gli auspici di S. S. Pio XI in occasione dell’ottantesimo natalizio dell’ Emo Cardinale Francesco Ehrle. Studi e testi 38 (Rome: Biblioteca apostolica Vaticana, 1924), 2: 504–23. Colombe finds evidence for that secret room in 1360, 1367, 1369, 1370, and 1380, here at page 515.

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The Avignon of Clement VII k 303 The most important registers and books were kept in locked cabinets in the same secret room. Additional administrative space was found within the city, but locations are difficult to pinpoint.38 Philippe Genequand, while analyzing data for the period of the Schism, finds papal officers living inside the palace and in nearby parishes, especially St. Étienne. However, officers could be rewarded with properties inside or outside the city, for example, in the Comtat Venaissin.39 As I have argued in the “Politics of Body Parts,” the fortress was a standing, living symbol of the papacy, an example of performing architecture. When the infallibility of the Avignon pope wavered during the Schism, so did its symbolic underpinning. During the first subtraction of French obedience (1398–1403), the renegade cardinals looked toward and utilized monuments directly opposed to the palace to assert their powers. The convents of St. Martial and Saint-Pierre-Célestins on the southern borders of the city symbolically rivaled the papal fortress. The palace temporarily lost its performative/representational dominance.40 During the second subtraction of obedience (1410–1411), Avignon’s heavy artillery repeatedly pounded the palace and its Catalan defense.41 The attack aimed to destroy the pope’s residence physically and symbolically. After the Catalan War, the palace was in such state of disrepair that the papal legate could not find lodging in it.42 Its situation deteriorated further on March 7, 1413, when the consistory, great and small kitchen, and the cellar burned.43 John XXIII ordered repairs rather speedily, maybe in the hope of finding shelter there if need arose.44 While, the Palais des Papes lost its cultural grandeur, it remained an impregnable fortress.

The Avignon of Clement VII (1378–1394)

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he return of the papal court to the city must have pleased the population: the presence of the court meant economic benefits.45 Avignon followed closely the news from Rome. When departing Provence, Gregory XI left the papal administrative structure in the city, plus six cardinals. All were in close contact with Rome as much as possible within 38

Rollo-Koster, Avignon and Its Papacy, 176–85. Philippe Genequand, “Les rémunérations composites de la cour pontificale au début du Grand Schisme d’Occident,” in Offices, écrits et papauté (XIIIe–XVIIe siècles), ed. Armand Jamme and Olivier Poncet (Rome: École française de Rome, 2007), 449–95. Anne-Marie Hayez, “Clément VII et Avignon,” in Genèse et début du grand schisme d’Occident, ed. Jean Favier (Paris: Éditions du CNRS, 1980), 130–31, lists some of the officers and the properties they received. 40 Joëlle Rollo-Koster, “The Politics of Body Parts: Contested Topographies in Late Medieval Avignon,” Speculum: A Journal of Medieval Studies 78 (2003): 66–98. 41 Noel Valois, “Essai de restitution d’anciennes annales avignonnaises,” Annuaire-Bulletin de la Société de l’Histoire de France 39 (1902): 175–77. 42 Pierre Pansier, “La maison du camérier François de Conzié (1411–1431) et la viguerie d’Avignon,” in Annales d’Avignon et du Comtat venaissin (Avignon: Roumanille, 1913), 244. 43 Valois, “Essai de restitution d’anciennes annales avignonnaises,” 180. 44 Claude Faure, “Les réparations du palais pontifical d’Avignon au temps de Jean XXIII (1413–1415),” Mélanges d’archéologie et d’histoire 28 (1908):185–206. 45 I will cite a single telling example: rental contracts stated that rents would go higher if the pope returned permanently. See ADV, 3E12/490, Jacques Calveri, fol. 85v.; 3E12/1400 fol. 48v. 39

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304 l avignon during the schism the limits of medieval communication.46 While, in July 1378, the French group of cardinals in Anagni vituperated against Urban, the remaining cardinals in Avignon were forbidding people to obey the pope and removing his coat of arms from the rooms of the palace.47 All were aware of the situation in Rome, and rumors did the rest. A secretary of the duke of Berry present at the time in Avignon criticized the new pope publicly, calling him “crazy,” proof that the French cardinals’ vituperations traveled fast.48 Avignon communal registers show that Avignon continued to consider itself the “papal residence” after Gregory XI left. The city still performed as the pope’s city. A new tower was erected on the bridge, and five banners marked with the pope’s coat of arms stood guard; a bell was added later.49 The town squares surrounding the palace were cleaned, and the river banks (Rhône, Durance, Durançole) reinforced to prevent floods. The city’s walls were partially rebuilt, but floods damaged them further in 1375–1376.50 All the gates of the city were repaired, and their guard reinforced, while more work was completed on the bell of the bridge’s tower, which usually sounded the alarm.51 The Vatican registers allow us a glimpse into some of the preparations for the papal return once Clement’s position in Italy became untenable. Letters were sent to the princes of Europe announcing Clement’s election in February 1379.52 He was still in Italy at the time; as 1379 progressed, so did preparations for his arrival in the city. The palace, its garden, and even the almshouse of the pope (the Pignotte) were repaired and provisioned. It must have been a wet spring in 1379: the almshouse was flooded and its garden ruined.53 These few months also show the performance of Clement’s legitimacy through displays of the pope’s color. Numerous purchases of red cloths and golden embroideries fill the registers. Even the pope’s bed and mattress, purchased from the Jew Paduo de Agathe, were covered with red taffeta.54 As the papal adventus finally approached, the walled doors of the palace were opened, with waxed cloth (tela cerata) covering the opened windows.55 The mercenary captain Sylvestres Budes was paid his 100 fl. for his war in Italy, and the papal almoner Guaberto de Capitepini received the 23 fl. that he and his clerk threw to the crowd lining the streets 46

On the administration of the city after the pope’s departure, see Rollo-Koster, Avignon and Its Papacy, 140–46; and Michel Hayez, “Avignon sans les papes (1367–1370, 1376–1379),” in Genèse et début du grand schisme d’Occident, ed. Jean Favier (Paris: Éditions du CNRS, 1980), 143–57. 47 Valois, La France, 1: 102–15. 48 Valois, La France, 1: 92. 49 ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, CC 1011, fol. 171v. The old tower was brought down in 1376 and replaced. See ADV, CC 1011, fols. 110v., 135, 150, 164. The tower was eventually decorated in 1377. See ADV, CC 1011, fol. 261. The bell was added in January 1378. See ADV, CC 1011, fols. 303–4, 307v. Notre-Dame was protected with barriers. See fol. 439v. The gates of the city were reinforced. See fol. 449r. In general, much work was put to the defense. See fols. 449v., 451. 50 ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, CC 1011, fols. 205–6. 51 ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, CC 1011, for April/May 1378. See fols. 310v., 312, 316, 316v., 318, 319. 52 AAV, Introitus et Exitus (IE) 350, fol. 50. 53 AAV, IE 350, fols. 56, 57v., 60v., 61, 62v. (for the April 1379 repairs of the Pignotte’s flood damages); fols. 63, 72v., and 76 (for repairs to the garden that had been ruined in March). 54 AAV, IE 350, fols. 64, 75v., 76v. (for Paduo, the mattress is also mentioned IE 351, fol. 52v); fols. 77, 78v., 79v., 80v. (for the frequently mentioned embroiderers Bernard and Guillaume Frezenchi). 55 AAV, IE 350, fol. 79v., 80.

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The Avignon of Clement VII k 305 (per plateas et vicos) during the papal entry on June 20, 1379.56 The expenses for June 1379, counting all the necessities including food (it was not a good month for capons and chickens), totaled the enormous sum of 2,000 fl.57 But Clement’s efforts at visibility – and it is tempting to add, performativity – also took less obvious forms. The Apostolic Chamber register Introitus et Exitus 352 covers the months from November 1379 to June 1380. It records entries that range from repairs of the flooded latrines and payment for laundry done by Alicie (wife of Beulauga, messenger of the pope), who cleaned a roquetus (rochet), linteaminium (linen), camisis (shirts), brachis (hoses), and birretis (birretas), to expenses linked to Urban VI’s trial, restorations of precious objects, purchase of jewels, and other sundries, such as the marking of papal cups with Clement’s coat of arms.58 But most of all, it shows payments to a scribe-notary for his “preparation” and drawing of Clement’s coat of arms on the pope’s Bible (pro preparando et ligando bibliam domini nostri pape, pro dorando et ponando arma DNP on dicte biblie) and for its golden wool and silk cover.59 This Bible is well-known, and has been especially studied by Cathleen Fleck.60 It should be underscored that this gorgeous, massive Bible was, as Fleck explains, “a highly regarded luxurious symbol of legitimacy and power.”61 Clement relied on the propaganda effect of his Bible quite early in his rule. Cathleen Fleck seems to be unaware of the entry in the Vatican archives’ Introitus et Exitus that dates the addition of the papal crest on the book’s cover concurrent with his return to the city (payment for work done is dated December 1379). The pope’s crest was also added to some twentyeight pages of the Bible sometime between his election in September 1378 and his return to

56

AAV, IE 350, fol. 64 (for Budes), and fol. 81r. (for the alms). AAV, IE 350, fols. 84 r. and v. 58 AAV, IE, 352, fols. 26–67. 59 AAV, IE, 352, fol. 30. The manuscript (London, British Library, Add MS 47672) has been digitized, www.bl.uk/manuscripts/FullDisplay.aspx?ref=Add_MS_47672 (accessed on February 16, 2021). 60 See Cathleen Fleck, The Clement Bible at the Medieval Courts of Naples and Avignon: A Story of Papal Power, Royal Prestige, and Patronage (Aldershot: Ashgate Press, 2010); “Seeking Legitimacy: Art and Manuscripts for the Popes in Avignon from 1378–1417,” in A Companion to the Great Western Schism, ed. Joëlle Rollo-Koster and Thomas Izbicki (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 239–302; “When a Bible Is Not a Bible: The Meaning and Movement of the Bible of Anti-pope Clement VII,” Word and Image 22 (2006): 219–27; “The Cultural Politics of the Papal Library at Avignon,” in La vie culturelle, intellectuelle et scientifique à la cour des papes d’Avignon, ed. Jacqueline Hamesse (Turnhout: Brepols, 2006), 65–85; “Linking Jerusalem and Rome in the Fourteenth Century: The Italian Bible of Anti-pope Clement VII,” in The Real and Ideal Jerusalem in Jewish, Christian and Islamic Art: Studies in Honour of Bezalel Narkiss on the Occasion of His Seventieth Birthday, ed. Bianca Kühnel (Jerusalem: Hebrew University, Center for Jewish Art, 1998), 430–52. 61 Fleck, “When a Bible Is Not a Bible,” 220. Fleck explains that the Bible had been originally designed c. 1330 for Raymond de Gramat, bishop-abbot of Monte Cassino (1326–1340). Because of Jus Spolii (papal right of spoils), it ended up in the hands of the popes where it served papal propaganda and legitimacy during the Schism. By 1369, it was in the secluded chapel of Urban V, to eventually be recovered by Clement VII. It was huge, in excellent shape (evidence that it was not over manipulated) “a result of its composition of Old and New Testament together, large script, generous borders and numerous illustrations, would seemingly have served to impress and entertain a select group of viewers . . .. The Bible’s mass lent to its prominence on the shelf or table where it rested. In addition, its owner could not easily transport it but instead undoubtedly made a ritual of arranging it for viewing, just as a scholar must do today.” 57

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306 l avignon during the schism the Comtat in June 1379. This urgency aptly demonstrates the Bible’s utmost legitimating effectiveness. Reliance on what could be labeled items of legitimating conspicuous consumption, such as illuminated manuscripts and book patronage, has been highlighted by Francesca Manzari. She states, “I have discussed illuminated book production for the popes and antipopes in the past, arguing that their patronage was influenced both by their competition with one another and by their desire to assert their own legitimacy . . .. The surviving material shows parallel strategies in the use of illuminated books as means of affirming legitimacy.”62 Books and their illuminations also performed for the papacy Avignon, however, paid a high price for supporting its popes. The records of the period clearly show a papal overreliance on the city’ taxes. The thick gabelles register CC 1011, organized by month, begins in 1376 with the details of various structural and defensive works, repairs on the Durance’s banks and the city towers, and expenses incurred by the guard of the gates. The expenses related to the great tower of the bridge (magne turris ponti Rodani) are a leitmotif, and clearly evidence a fear of an attack coming from the river. It also appears that Clementist cardinals in Rome used the gabelles early in the Schism.63 By September 1379 the register records payment to the cardinals of a subsidy of 300 fl.; it later shows a subsidy of 50 gold fl. sent to Pierre de Cros.64 By the time Clement entered the city under his golden-embroidered canopy, he had already taxed the city council a subsidy of 3,000 fl., levied for the war effort in Italy.65 Clement’s financial reliance on his capital continued; he required some 10,000 fl. in January 1379, 5,000 fl. in 1380, and levied an extraordinary tax in 1384 for his expenses.66 The pope also

Francesca Manzari, ”More on Illumination at the Time of the Great Schism: Book Patronage in the two Curias and a Long-Lasting Stage of Gothic Illumination in Rome,” in Vom Weichen über den Schönen Stil zur Ars Nova: Neue Beiträge zur europäischen Kunst zwischen 1350 und 1470, ed. Jirí Fajt and Markus Hörsch (Vienna: Böhlau, 2018), 129. See also her “Libri liturgici miniati in Italia centromeridionale all’inizio del Quattrocento,” in Universitates e Baronie: Arte e architettura in Abruzzo e nel Regno al tempo dei Durazzo, Atti del Convegno (Guardiagrele-Chieti, 9–11 november 2006), 3 vols., ed. Pio F. Pistilli, Francesca Manzari, and Gaetano Curzi (Pescara: Edizioni Zip, 2008), 1: 109–36; “The International Context of Boniface IX’s Court and the Marginal Drawings in the Chantilly Codex (Bibliothèque du Château, Ms. 564),” Recercare 22, nos. 1–2 (2010): 11–33; “Mobilité des artistes et migration des styles: Les cours papales d’Avignon et de Rome durant le Grand Schisme,” in Les transferts artistiques dans l’Europe gothique (XIIe–XVIe siècles): Repenser la circulation des artistes, des œuvres, des thèmes et des savoir-faire, ed. Jacques Dubois, Jean-Marie Guillouët, Benoît Van den Bossche (Paris: Edition Picard, 2014), 289–302; “La ripresa della miniatura a Roma durante lo Scisma. Miniatori, copisti e calligrafi attivi tra fine Trecento e inizio Quattrocento,” in Il codice miniato in Europa: Libri per la chiesa, per la città, per la corte, ed. Giordana Mariani Canova and Alessandra Perriccioli Saggese (Padova: Il Poligrafo, 2014), 401–23; “Scribes, Pen-flourishers and Illuminators in Papal Charters from the Great Western Schism to the Age of the Councils (1378–1447),” in Illuminierte Urkunden. Beiträge aus Diplomatik, Kunstgeschichte und Digital Humanities/Illuminated Charters. Essays from Diplomatic, Art History and Digital, ed. Gabriele Bartz (Köln: Böhlau 2018), 153–78. 63 ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, CC 1011, fols. 109–20v. For the great tower see fols. 111v., 116r., 307r., with a payment to the chaplain of St. Peter who processed with cross when the new bell was put on the Great Tower of the bridge. 64 ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, CC 1011, fols. 373r., 406v. 65 ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, CC 1011, fols. 323–24, for September 1378. 66 Anne-Marie Hayez, “Clément VII et Avignon,” in Genèse et début du grand schisme d’Occident, ed. Jean Favier (Paris: Éditions du CNRS, 1980), 126, 136; and Pierre Pansier, “Annales avignonnaises 62

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The Avignon of Clement VII k 307 never hesitated using the gabelles direct taxes for his own enterprise, asking the council to share its revenues by a third, half, or sixth.67 The city had little funding left to support its infrastructure. The gabelles register for the next ten years, roughly 1379–1391, principally held by Thomas de Podio, shows that the brunt of the city’s defense rested on its tax revenues.68 The expenses include itemized payments to the captain of the bridge’s Grande Tour, his brigands, the city’s defense, especially its gates, and its artillery. Repairs to the bridge and the addition of stones to its pillars reached a daily tally, and very few expenses actually concerned the city’s infrastructure. For example, dredging the ports on the Rhône, Sorgues, or Durance Rivers appears only sporadically.69 The paving of the city’s streets appears only once.70 The city also carried the palace’s expenses. In January 1388, the gabelles paid for the cleaning of the waterline that ran from the pope’s granary to the Inn of the Chapeau Rouge – a name that obviously refers to the cardinal’s galero.71 In 1391, Avignon’s gabelles paid for cleaning the waterline of the pope’s garden.72 Still, and in all fairness to Clement’s financial needs, the pope became creative in raising his revenues. He did not replace the dead bishop of the city between December 1383 and August 1392, monopolizing the revenues of Avignon’s episcopal manse for his own expenditures.73 Some could be incidentals. A 1381 inventory of a clocktower built for the city (turri sive fargia ubi fiebat arologium presentis civitatis Avinionensis) itemizes most of the elements required to build a clock, with mechanisms, wheels, keys, etc.74 The city’s clock may have been the “house of the clock” (domus horologii) within the palace, mentioned in a 1353 document. Alternatively, it could be the so-called great clock found in one of the palace towers, repaired at the expense of the city’s gabelles, as mentioned in a 1374 document. In any case, in 1343 Clement VI possessed a clock in his wardrobe.75 After arriving in Avignon, Clement’s rapport with his capital remained distant and driven by financial self-interest. In November 1379, the pope ratified the old and unpopular convention of 1251, which had ended the city’s political autonomy. Except for a few graces granted to prominent citizens, such as authorizations to cloister their daughters, Clement showed little concern for the city that partly fed his politics. The local gabelles taxes, initially created to fund the defense of the city, became instead the pope’s indirect tax. The Italian conquest, with its diplomatic ramifications and excessive funding, obsessed the pope, and in turn became Avignon’s main preoccupation. Still the gabelles registers offer an indication of how the city spent internally during the Schism: education, defense, and ceremonial.

de 1370–1382 d’après le livre des mandats de la gabelle,” Annales d’ Avignon et du Comtat Venaissin 3 (1914–15), 45, 49, 54, 60. 67 Hayez, “Clément VII et Avignon,” 128. 68 ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, CC 1011, fols. 453v.–776r. 69 ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, CC 1011, fol. 475r., (1382), repairs on the bridge’s barriers, repairs on the gates, and dredging of several bridges; fol. 632v. (1388), repairs of bridges on Sorgue, Durance, and Rhône. 70 ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, CC 1011, fol., 660v. (1388). 71 ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, CC 1011, fol. 643v. 72 ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, CC 1011, fol. 776r. 73 Hayez, “Clément VII et Avignon,” 132. 74 AAV, Reg. Vat. 309, fols. 20r. and v. 75 For papal clocks, see Robert Michel and J. De Derleke, “Les premières horloges du palais pontifical d’Avignon,” in Mélanges d’archéologie et d’histoire 29 (1909): 213–24.

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308 l avignon during the schism The first clear evidence emerging from the registers is that the return of the papacy to Rome in 1377 freed space in the city. The barricades that delimited the cardinals’ housing lots (livrées) were removed. Once space was freed, it filled various needs, such as classrooms or army depots.76 The register also makes obvious the role ceremonial played in the city’s identity.77 As in Rome, the Avignonese council, even though it was in a far weaker political position, showed face when important dignitaries visited the city or to promote specific events. We find a similar competition with papal ritual to ascertain authority or to at least connect with authority. Again, by becoming actors of the ritual and associating with the pope, the aura of ceremonial legitimacy was projected onto some of the patrons of ceremonial, in this case the city council. The city performed along with the pope. For example, the council paid for the golden canopy that was carried above the pope’s head during his 1379 entry (drapo aureo qui portatum fuit supra D. N. papam).78 The communal registers also track Clement’s entry and the various decorative expenses for the occasion: 30 fl. for the above-mentioned golden canopy and payments to the embroiderer Bernard Frezenchi for the many other canopies, flags, pennons, banners, and some twenty-four coats of arms for the pope and the city of Avignon.79 In a certain sense, these embroidered cloths, swung above the “head” of the Church, performed for both Clement and his city of residence. Avignon’s involvement with its pope, however, went further. The council sent an embassy to Clement when he arrived in Marseille.80 Dressed in new liveries, the envoys, along with the Captain General Pierre de Seguret (Petrus de Secureto, et multi alii cives ad associandum dictum Capitaneum), discussed the route to follow back to the city. The pope would approach via Montfavet, St. Praxede, over the Durance and the Sorgues. They ordered the construction of wooden bridges for the occasion.81 The involvement of the citizenry in these types of discussions could only empower civic authorities with the pretense of holding a certain clout. In addition to the various banners that represented the pope and city’s coat of arms, the city paid for heralds, musicians, and minstrels, who livened up the entry.82 Branding the city with the papal coat of arms had been an initial preoccupation – it made Avignon papal again and legitimized Clement’s presence, but the register intimates that the suddenness of the papal return took the council by surprise. It did not have the time to etch See Pansier, “Annales avignonnaises,” 37 (removal of chains), 39 (rental for school), 40 (artillery moving to a larger house with several rooms). For more examples concerning the university, see Pansier, “Annales avignonnaises,” 41, 46, 50, 53, 54; and concerning weapons and defense, see 41, 43, 47–48, 56, 58–61, 63–64, 69. 77 For a detailed review of the range of civic ritual, see Sharon Strocchia, “Civic Ritual,” in Oxford Bibliographies, www.oxfordbibliographies.com/view/document/obo-9780195399301/obo-97801953993010037.xml (accessed on February 16, 2021). 78 Pansier, “Annales avignonnaises,” 42. 79 See ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, CC 1011, fol. 390v., for the golden canopy; and fol. 429, for the payment to Bernard Frezenchi. 80 The mention of new liveries for city’s officers appears on several occasions. See Pansier, “Annales avignonnaises,” 54, 65, 66. 81 Pansier, “Annales avignonnaises,” 51. 82 Pansier, “Annales avignonnaises,” 52. Gretchen Peters, The Musical Sounds of Medieval French Cities: Players, Patrons, and Politics (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 59–66, discusses some of this pageantry. 76

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The Avignon of Clement VII k 309 the coat of arms in stone, above all gates of the city. Thus, the order was to simply paint the images in the best manner possible to make them long-lasting.83 The gabelles’ registers show that like in Rome, civic authorities participated in ecclesiastical ritual both physically and financially. Still, it is difficult to ascertain if their financial participation was voluntary or coerced. In 1382, The city’s council paid for an image of the Virgin, visibly embroidered on gold cloth, for a procession and sermon honoring the duke of Calabria at the Dominicans. In 1383, it paid for the funeral service honoring the death of Joanna of Naples that again took place at the Dominicans. It included banners, torches, and the ringing of bells at both the Preachers’ convent and the Cathedral of Notre-Dame des Doms. The Council paid for banners, poles, wax, the raising and cleaning of a space between two doors of the palace, and the fitting of a seated image (a statue?) of the Virgin in April 1388. Here it is remarkable that the city paid for a ceremony that took place inside the papal palace and may have been linked to the Easter procession.84 Similarly, in 1390, the council spent substantial sums for three processions, one purely religious, the celebration of the feast of the Ascension, one in May honoring the departure of the King of Sicily, and another of the King of Navarre. A detail of the expenses clarifies the city’s involvement in the 1390 procession of the Ascension. First, valets retrieved the papal banner from the castle of Suze, where it had been hoisted after its surrender. This statement suggests that the Avignon papacy held only one official banner, which circulated as needed. A list of names was then created (rotuli) for the Virgin’s bearers; the chosen ones were notified in writing of their specific task. Under the leadership of the confraternity of Notre Dame la Major, envoys and messengers were sent to the city’s many confraternities to retrieve the torches that were set in front of the statue. The envoys received wine in return. The procession was accompanied by several musicians, also paid by the city, and the statue was decorated with flowers.85 For the departure of the king of Sicily and Jerusalem in May, the council rewarded in kind (wine again) the heralds who called for the cleaning of the king’s recess route up to the Dominicans. It is obvious that the council strove to offer the image of a city neat and tidy. Messengers who asked the various confraternities, religious orders, and civic, collegial, and parochial organizations to join the recess route were also compensated. Musicians and the flowers that decorated a statue of the Virgin were paid (by the city), as were the guards keeping the various banners. The same type of expense was reproduced for the king of Navarre’s recess, including, again, the image of the Virgin. It is of note that messengers called on the best citizens to join the procession (doctoribus et aliis melioribus de villa).86 All in all, these types of expenses show a certain level of ambiguity in the city’s willingness to participate in these ceremonials. It seems that if enthusiasm was general, there would be no need to send messengers to gather participants; the evidence argues against spontaneous assemblies. On the other hand, it is also possible that the formal request of one’s presence was standard protocol and validated the quality of the participants. The care with which a city prepared for a royal entry belonged to a system of “gift” exchange that was at once symbolic and utilitarian. When Charles VI visited Clement VII 83 84 85 86

Pansier, Pansier, Pansier, Pansier,

“Annales avignonnaises,” 50 “Annales avignonnaises,” 56, 59, 62. “Annales avignonnaises,” 70–71. “Annales avignonnaises,” 71.

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310 l avignon during the schism in the winter of 1389, Avignon gave itself a new veneer. The bridge was freshly resurfaced, carpenters installed poles to suspend banners and framed the tents’ support stretched above the entry’s route (from the palace to the gate of the bridge). The aim was to render the city pleasant (attendando carrerias . . . pro jocundo adventu) and to ingratiate the king.87 The occasion offered the opportunity to attend to needs that may not have seemed pressing, such as the cleaning and repaving of the Rue Carreterie in front of the Augustinian convent. This was the location of the chapel of Notre-Dame la Belle that was a popular spot for its beauty – and insalubrity; it was marred by a seeping cesspool.88 This effort certainly aimed at convincing the king to grant a right to import wheat from France. In January 1390, the city presented the king with a rotulo communitatis (a communal roll, drafted by a paid lawyer) asking for letters of grace. The fact that the register notes the payment for six silver cups, offered to the cardinal of Neuchatel, insinuates that he must have served as intermediary in the successful negotiations.89

The Angevin Situation: The Voyage of Monseigneur Louis (1382–1384) he Schism brought to the surface the strong rivalry that animated the “old” or “first” and “new” or “second” branches of the Capetian/Valois house of Anjou. The following simplifications hide the complexity of the situation especially caused by consanguineous marriages. On the one hand, there stood the “old” Angevin/Durazzo who descended from Charles I of Anjou (brother of St. Louis) and his grandson Robert of Anjou (the wise, who died in 1343), king of Naples, and titular of Jerusalem, count of Provence and Forcalquier, with claims to Hungary on the side of his mother, Maria of Hungary. Joanna of Naples (1326–1382), Queen of Naples, was Robert the Wise’s granddaughter and heir.90 She eventually married two of her cousins: Andrew of Hungary and Louis of Tarento – two marriages that exemplify medieval consanguinity for the sake of political consolidation. On the other hand, stood the “new” Angevin: Louis of Anjou, son of John II the Good, king of France. He was brother of Charles V, king of France (and uncle to his heir Charles VI of France); of John, duke of Berry; and of Philip, duke of Burgundy. Anjou was, strictly speaking, of Valois descent and received Anjou as an appanage from his father.91

T

Pansier, “Annales avignonnaises,” 64, 66. Pansier, “Annales avignonnaises,” 67. 89 Pansier, “Annales avignonnaises,” 68. 90 Regarding Joanna, see Émile Guillaume Léonard, Histoire de Jeanne Ière, reine de Naples, comtesse de Provence (1343–1382), 3 vols. (Monaco: Imprimerie de Monaco, 1932–36); and Les Angevins de Naples (Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 1954), which offers an exhaustive account of her rule. Ronald G. Musto, Medieval Naples: A Documentary History, 400–1400 (New York: Italica Press, 2013); and Elizabeth Casteen, From She-Wolf to Martyr: The Reign and Disputed Reputation of Johanna I of Naples (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2015), offer the most recent iteration of a rich historiography. 91 French language prefers to name “first” and “second” house of Anjou, première and seconde maison d’Anjou, over senior and cadet branches. See, for example, Christof Ohnesorge, “Les ambitions et l’échec de la seconde maison d’Anjou (vers 1380–vers 1480),” in Les princes angevins du XIIIe au XVe siècle: Un destin européen (Rennes: Presses universitaires de Rennes, 2003), 265–76. See also Alfred Coville, La vie intellectuelle dans les domaines d’Anjou-Provence de 1380 à 1435 (Paris: Droz, 1941). 87

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The Angevin Situation k 311 Both the old Angevin/Durazzo and new Angevin fought directly or indirectly for Naples, bringing their quarrel to the popes, in both Avignon and Rome. But as Philippe Contamine has recently suggested, few people in the Kingdom of France were really kept up-to-date on the Neapolitan situation, and even fewer cared to be.92 Louis I of Anjou had long dreamed of conquering a kingdom for himself in Italy – and this raised suspicion at the papal court years before the Schism. The ever-voluble Mantuan procurator, Christoforo da Piacenza, described the duke’s 1374 visit to the papal court during the rule of Gregory XI. He calls him a “brother of the king of France and a bad man.”93 Louis remained in Avignon, and Christoforo suspected the duke’s views on a kingdom in Lombardy (sed audio plane murmurare quod procurat coronam in regem Lombardorum). But most of all, he accused the duke of impeding the pope’s return to Italy.94 According to Froissart, in 1380, Charles V threaded warily around his brother whom he considered overly ambitious, “car il le doutoit merveilleusement et convoiteux le sentoit.”95 It is not a stretch to imagine that the Schism benefited Louis’s personal goals. He became a strong supporter of Clement’s war in Italy to dislodge Urban. These first “wars of Italy” have recently been studied in detail by both Philippe Genequand and Christophe Masson, and it is not the point of the following to revisit the wars themselves. Rather, the next pages will investigate how the complex web of Angevin alliances affected Avignon, and political performances in Avignon.96 The political divisions caused by the Schism – most specifically, Joanna’s position as ruler of both Naples and Provence, a Clementist in Urbanist’s land, as well as her adoption of Louis I of Anjou – brought Provence, and the papacy in its neighboring Comtat Venaissin, into a perilous situation.97 All the threads were intricately woven together. Papacy, Provence, Anjou, Urbanists, and Clementists were propelled into the fray. By labeling himself “son of the king of France, duke of Anjou and Touraine, adoptive son of our dearest dame and mother, Madame Joanna, queen of Jerusalem and Sicily, countess of Provence, Forcalquier, and Piedmont, true and legitimate heir, sole successor, for all the said realms,

Philippe Contamine, “À l’ombre des fleurs de lis: Les rapports entre les rois de France Valois et les Angevins de Naples et de Provence (1320–1382),” in Les princes angevins du XIIIe au XVe siècle: Un destin européen, ed. Noël-Yves Tonnerre, and Élisabeth Verry (Rennes: Presses universitaires de Rennes, 2003), 118. 93 Arturo Segre, “I dispacci di Christoforo da Piacenza, procuratore mantuano alla corte pontificia,” Archivio Storico Italiano 43 (1909): 54. For the author, the visit was under false pretext (sub velamine falso), and he wanted to negotiate peace with the Visconti. 94 “Scivi ab uno domino cardinali qui ytalicus est, quod etiam prefatus dus temptavit impedire motum pape ad partes Ytallie, sed ille cardinalis michi dixit quod reperijt dominimi papam magis firmum quam unquam.” Segre, “I dispacci di Christoforo da Piacenza,” 61. 95 Les Chroniques de Jean Froissart: Collection des chroniques nationales françaises, ed. J. A. Buchon (Paris: Verdière libraire, 1824), VII: 367. 96 Philippe Genequand, Une politique pontificale en temps de crise: Clément VII d’Avignon et les premières années du Grand Schisme d’Occident (1378–1394) (Basel: Schwabe, 2013); and Christophe Masson, Des guerres en Italie avant les guerres d’Italie: Les entreprises militaires françaises dans la péninsule à l’époque du grand schisme d’Occident (Rome: École Française de Rome, 2014), update the historiography and revamp old classics such as Noël Valois’s masterful four volumes. 97 On the negotiations regarding Louis’s adoption, see Eugène Jarry, “Instructions secrètes pour l’adoption de Louis Ier d’Anjou par Jeanne de Naples (janvier 1380),” Bibliothèque de l’École des Chartes 67 (1906): 234–54. 92

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312 l avignon during the schism counties, and other lands of our lady and mother,” Louis I evidently antagonized the Urbanists, but also the Provençaux, who did not want to see a repeat of his 1368 attempt at conquering them. The 1368 attacks had taken place during Urban V’s failed attempt at returning the papacy to Rome (1367–1370). Anjou, encouraged by Joanna’s difficulties in Naples, and the presence of many mercenaries in the Midi, decided to attack her counties of Provence and Forcalquier. His troops, led by Bertrand du Guesclin, eventually besieged Tarascon and Arles, greatly worrying Marseille and Forcalquier. They spared Avignon in exchange of hefty ransoms. Urban V’s response was robust; he excommunicated mercenaries. Defending Joanna, he protested vehemently to the king of France against his brother’s actions, and he organized the Provençal defense under Raymond d’Agout, seneschal of Provence.98 A peace treaty was eventually signed in April 1371, after Charles V decided to send du Guesclin’s troops toward Spain. Still, the memory remained vivid for decades. Writing his chronicle circa 1392, a generation after the events, Bertrand Boysset, a chronicler from Arles states, On the year of the Lord 1368, on the 11th April, third day after Easter, Louis duke of Anjou, brother of the king of France, besieged the city of Arles. Lord Bertrand du Guesclin, count of Longueville, manned the siege for him, until the first day of May. And on that day, they left, except the ones who had died.99

Boysset’s clear remembrance of the date of the siege’s initiation shows that it was imprinted in his memory. His last sentence suggests a certain level of satisfaction when the Angevins did not manage to penetrate the city and took casualties. The only thing they left behind were their dead. This memory of 1368 endured for decades, and in 1382 Provence resisted instead of accepting its former enemy as new lord. When Louis arrived in February 1382 to receive the oath of the Provencal cities, Aix refused. Thus began the War of the Union of Aix (unione Aquensi). Toulon and Hyères eventually joined Aix to form a coalition for the defense of Joanna (whom they thought still alive). When they learned of her death, they chose Durazzo as her successor and not Anjou – and thus Urban VI. As for Arles and The conquest of Provence was left in the hands of Bertrand Du Guesclin. See V.-L. Bourrilly, “Du Guesclin et le duc d’Anjou en Provence (1368),” Revue historique 152, no. 2 (1926): 161–80; Alain Venturini, “La guerre de l’Union d’Aix (1383–1388),” in 1388: La dédition de Nice à la Savoie, Actes du colloque international de Nice, ed. Rosine Cleyet-Michaut, et al. (Paris: Publications de la Sorbonne, 1988), 43; Valois, La France, 2: 19; Rollo-Koster, Avignon and Its Papacy, 123, 125. 99 Patrick Gautier Dalché, Marie Rose Bonnet, and Philippe Rigaud, eds., Bertrand Boysset: Chronique (Turnhout: Brepols, 2018), 55. On Boysset and the Schism, see Louis Stouff, “Bertrand Boysset et le grand schism d’Occident,” Provence historique 56, no. 224 (2006): 145–53. Boysset was a surveyor (destrador et atermenador) and left one of the few surveying treatises of the Middle Ages. See Murielle Faudot and Monique Clavel-Lévêque, “Redécouverte d’un arpenteur arlésien: Bertrand Boysset (vers l355–vers 1416),” Dialogues d’histoire ancienne 21, no. 2 (1995): 360–69; and Pierre Portet and Monique Clavel-Lévêque, “Bertrand Boysset, arpenteur arlésien de la fin du Moyen Âge (vers 1355.1358–vers 1416), et ses traités techniques d’arpentage et de bornage,” Dialogues d’histoire ancienne 22, no. 2 (1996): 239–44. Pierre Portet dedicated his 1995 thesis to the edition of his treatises, La siensa de destrar, and La siensa d’atermenar. See www .theses.fr/1995TOU20060 (accessed on February 16, 2021). 98

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The Angevin Situation k 313 Marseilles, they kept their allegiance with Louis of Anjou, their old enemy, for the sake of the economic gain they could reap from a maritime war against Naples.100 It is still interesting to note that the political attachment to Joanna’s lordship superseded ties to the Angevins. Bertrand Boysset uses a full page of his chronicle to describe the solemn mass in honor of Joanna’s death, officiated on December 4, 1384, some two years after her actual demise. Itemizing the moments of the ritual, he notes that it was done without a single fault – meaning the audience really knew the script. He adds that the ceremony had been much delayed because, “There was much discussion earlier. Some wanted to argue that Madame was still alive, others not. And there was much discussion. And for some we should not wait much longer to recognize a lord, any lord, as long as God granted us a good one.”101 In the end, Avignon and its pope found themselves funding two wars, one aligned with Anjou’s reconquest of his adoptive Neapolitan realm and the other against Urbanist Provençaux who rejected Louis as Joanna’s heir. The war officially ended in October 1386 when Louis II of Anjou entered Aix and was recognized lord of the city. Quickly after his election, Clement VII received the support of France, first of Charles V and later of Louis of Anjou, regent of young Charles VI after his father’s death.102 In the early months of the Schism, support took the form of subsidies, 12,000, 10,000, and 13,000 gold francs between March and April 1378.103 As soon as Clement returned to Avignon in June 1379, Louis supported Clement’s vision of a Kingdom of Adria – taken from the Papal States, including the marches of Ancona and Romagna, the duchy of Spoleto, the provinces of Massa Trabaria, Bologna, Ferrara, Ravenna, Perugia, and Todi, which, it can be assumed, he hoped to govern. If this failed, Louis also envisioned founding his own kingdom either in Arles, Naples (at the death of Queen Joanna), or somewhere else in Italy. Shortage of funds prevented him from acting on his ambitions, but the situation turned to his advantage when Queen Joanna adopted him on June 29, 1380. Louis had his kingdom, but it became ever more elusive. Meanwhile in Rome, Urban VI deposed Joanna of her titles after her refusal to support him. In May 1380, Urban excommunicated her, accusing her of schism, heresy, and lese majesty. On June 1, 1381, Urban passed her kingdom to Charles of Durazzo, husband of Joanna’s niece Margaret of Durazzo (Charles was Joanna’s second cousin and first cousin to his wife Margaret); he entered Naples victorious in July.104 For the Urbanist obedience, Louis was the landless heir of a traitor; for the Clementist, a king

On this war, see Geneviève Xhayet, “Partisans et adversaires de Louis d’Anjou pendant la guerre de l’Union d’Aix,” Provence Historique 40, no. 162 (1990): 403–27; Noël Coulet, “L’union d’Aix dans l’historiographie provençale (XVIe–XVIIIe siècle),” Provence historique, 40, no. 162 (1990): 443–54; Alain Venturini, “Vérité refusée, vérité cachée: Du sort de quelques nouvelles avant et pendant la Guerre d’Union d’Aix (1382–1388),” Actes des congrès de la Société des historiens médiévistes de l’enseignement supérieur public (Avignon: SHMESP, 1993), 179–90; and “La guerre de l’Union d’Aix (1383–1388),” 35–141. 101 Dalché, Bonnet, and Rigaud, Bertrand Boysset, 75. 102 Masson, Des guerres en Italie avant les guerres d’Italie, 17–82, offers the most recent account of this French involvement in Italy. 103 Valois, La France, 1: 157. 104 Jean le Fèvre, Journal de Jean le Fèvre, ed. H. Moranvillé (Paris: Picard, 1887), 8. 100

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314 l avignon during the schism with an empty title.105 Defended by her last husband Otto of Brunswick, Joanna found refuge at Castel Nuovo where the victorious Charles eventually captured her in August 1381. He was later crowned king of Sicily and Jerusalem in March 1382 among celebrations that lasted several days.106 Joanna died under suspicious conditions on July 27, 1382, at the fortress of San Fele.107 As Noël Valois judiciously underscores, “by switching kings the kingdom also switched popes.”108 Urban had won Naples. He performed his victory through various means. First, he showed his control over the Neapolitan province: titles changed hands abruptly. According to Dietrich of Nieheim, thirty-two abbeys, episcopal, and arch-episcopal seats were replaced.109 Vengeance was also taken against the Clementists. When Clement left Italy in 1379, he left two of his cardinals to support him at the Neapolitan court. Captured by Durazzo, they were publicly “defrocked.” Leonardo da Giffoni renounced Clement and burned his red galero in the Church of Santa Chiara in front of Durazzo, Urban’s legate, and a large crowd. The flames reached and burned the hat of another Clementist, Giacomo d’ Itri. Since no formal ritual of degradation seems to have existed for cardinals, Urban innovated. The fire of heresies now burned the hats of treacherous cardinals.110 Still, it is of note that Philippe Genequand tones down this dramatic narrative. He removes both d’Itri and Giffone out of Durazzo’s grip as early as December 1381, for d’Itri, and April 1382, for Giffone.111 As a result, Louis now had to reconquer his throne from the so-called usurper, and his political aspirations directly fell in line with Clement’s. The conquest of Naples went hand in hand with the conquest of Rome, or vice-versa. His regency for his nephew Charles VI, and his lack of funding, prevented him from acting quickly. Things fell into place in 1382. As Christophe Masson suggests, both sides framed the war as a “just war,” hence legitimating their attacks. Both argued that they were engaging in a war of defense, and both took the moral high ground. It is quite understandable that two kings with two popes muddled legitimate rule.112 The Kingdom of Naples owed its allegiance to the pope, and its king needed to be invested by the pope to rule with absolute legitimacy. Both were eventually duly enthroned by the pope of their respective obedience. But Anjou and Durazzo showed their astute understanding of their predicament and doubled back on the honor due to their rank. They deployed proper knightly etiquette and they called for a duel to solve the issue of legitimacy. In a series of challenging letters that

105

See Matteo Camera, Elucubrazioni storico-diplomatiche su Giovanna la regina di Napoli, e Carlo III di Durazzo (Salerno: Tipografia Nazionale, 1889), 287–88, for a transcription of the bull based on Dietrich of Nieheim. 106 Chronographia regum francorum (1380–1405), ed. Henri Moranvillé (Paris: Société de l’histoire de France, 1891–97), 3: 18–19. 107 Eugène Jarry, “La mort de Jeanne II, reine de Jérusalem et de Sicile, en 1382,” Bibliothèque de l’École des Chartes 55 (1894): 236–37. 108 Valois, La France, 2: 12. 109 Valois, La France, 2: 13–14. 110 Regarding defrocking, see Marc Dykmans, “Le rite de la dégradation des clercs d’après quelques manuscripts,” Gregorianum 63 (1982): 301–32. 111 Genequand, Une politique pontificale en temps de crise, 276–77. 112 Christophe Masson, “Une épée pour saint Pierre? Les princes Valois d’Anjou et le Grand Schisme d’Occident,” Le Moyen Age 121, no. 1 (2015): 71–81.

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The Angevin Situation k 315 they sent to each other, they literally performed pseudo-duels with written/verbal exchanges, curses, and defamatory gestures. The journal of Jean le Fèvre (drafted between 1381–1388), bishop of Chartres and chancellor of both Louis I, and II of Anjou, offers interesting details on Anjou’s and the pope’s behavior. Alfred Coville qualifies this journal as “accurate and meticulous.”113 Jean was in Avignon from roughly January to July 1382 and offers almost a daily account of his activities. In addition to interminable discussions between the French and the papal court concerning how to respond to Durazzo’s attacks, le Fèvre remarks that the pope invited Anjou to respond virilement (manfully) to the crisis.114 The word is loaded with meaning. It conjures images of knighthood, feats of arms, and defense of the weak – women and the church – all to enjoin the duke to do the right thing. On January 15, 1382, Louis wrote a letter to Neapolitan barons to convince them of his claim’s righteousness. The content of the letter eventually reached Durazzo, who used it in turn to challenge Anjou.115 Their rivalry was turning into chivalrous jousting. The late fifteenth-century chronicler Lazzaro de Bernabei describes the 1382 literary exchange between Anjou and Durazzo, built around the performance of martial honor. Anjou’s words showed his astonishment at the actions taken against Joanna (matre nostra) and Durazzo’s ingratitude. He insinuated that Durazzo’s attacks demonstrated a lack of respect for the king of France and requested vendetta in the name of justice. He sent his letter with the glove of defiance (et col guanto mandato in segno de far guerra). Anjou insisted that his letter was equivalent to a voiced declaration (como proprio procedesse da la nostra bocca viva). It is interesting to note here that the vocalization of the challenge brought more weight than the mere scribbling of its words. In response, Durazzo accepted the challenge and accused Anjou with the common “lying through your throat” (et così como havete scripto che tu ne menti per la gola).116 Durazzo also attached a glove to his missive. In return, Anjou verbally accepted the challenge, showing again that there is more honor in speaking than in writing (esso duca dette tale resposta a li nuntii de lo dicto re in parole et non in lettere). He boasted, “Tell this Charles that I will soon see him in Naples where we will have a chat [that is, where he will pay for his temerity]” (Dite ad esso Carlo che io verrò ad Napoli de mo’ dove li risponderò juxta sua temerità).117 It should be emphasized that the Chronicler of Saint-Denis, Michel Pintoin, also presents Anjou under the guise of a dueling hero. He states that Anjou’s herald announced to Durazzo, “Prince, my powerful lord Louis . . . ask you to please set up the day and place of the duel; the crown will go to the victor.”118 Needless to add, these were verbal jousts and neither man had the intention to fight. Louis I of Anjou’s true fulfillment came in May 1382 when he received the title of duke of Calabria, title of the heir to the Kingdom of Naples. By February 1382, Louis had 113 114 115 116

117

118

On Le Fèvre, see Coville, La vie intellectuelle, 95–139. The quote is on page 95. Le Fèvre, Journal de Jean le Fèvre, 12. Masson, Des guerres en Italie avant les guerres d’Italie, 20. See Giuseppe Patota, “Mentire per la gola,” Lingua e Stile, Rivista di storia della lingua italiana 2 (2013): 155–76, for a discussion of the expression. “Croniche anconitane trascritte e raccolte da m. Lazzaro de Bernabei,” in Collezione documenti storici antichi inediti ed editi rari delle città e terre marchigiane, ed. C. Ciavarini (Ancona: Tipografia del commercio, 1870), 97–99. I took some liberty with the translations to remain true to meaning. CRSD 1: Livre V, 333.

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316 l avignon during the schism reached Avignon, hoping to gain financial support for his Neapolitan enterprise. The papal register AAV, IE, 355, for late winter and spring 1382, shows that indeed he received important funding, but it was insufficient.119 As Christophe Masson shows, it is extremely difficult to calculate absolute numbers, but they are staggering, thousands of florins, golden francs, ducats, and livres were expended on the project.120 The papal court became a hub of intense activities for his arrival: messengers were dispatched to France, the palace was repaired, and wine, hippocras, fruits, bread, dishes and crockery, wood and fodder ordered.121 The register opens the intimate world of conspicuous consumption: 36 fl. as gift to an archbishop, or 7 fl. for embroidering papal slippers.122 Some expenses project status: an oil “picture” is painted in a chapel of the palace, and the garden is repaired.123 We can trace Gilles Bellemère’s earlier peregrinations through Anjou and Brittany, certainly to negotiate Anjou’s involvement.124 Jean Le Fèvre details Anjou’s arrival at Pont-Saint-Esprit on Friday February 22, 1382, and his dramatic entry into Avignon the following Saturday. Twelve cardinals ushered the duke – maybe in reference to Jesus and his apostles since this was Lent – and the pope’s reception in a lit consistory à torches.125 Le Fèvre’s emphasis on lighting underlines the dramatic solemnity of the event. A few days later, on March 1, the pope named him duke of Calabria, traditional title of the successor of the King of Naples. It is of note that Le Fèvre frames the event as emanating from Queen Joanna, and not Anjou himself. Le Fèvre states that, the count of Caserta as procurator of the queen begged Monseigneur to accept the title of duke of Calabria. His lettres (we can surmise his credentials) were then reviewed by no one less than the greatest canonist of the time, Gilles Bellemère, auditor of Contradicted Letters; then the pope and cardinal requested his acquiescence, which he gave. Anjou then bowed to the pope.126 Jean Le Fèvre’s narrative is oriented toward legitimacy. The queen’s request legitimized and reinforced Louis’s position, as did the review of his credentials by the canonist and the pope. In sum, Louis was responding positively to a request and genuinely acted in the best interest of his “mother.” He was no usurper. The following Sunday, Le Fèvre presented Anjou’s credentials at court to the Provençaux, who were not that impressed (ils en firent pau de compte), still ruminating about Anjou’s involvement in their affairs.127 On the following Monday, March 3, Charles of Durazzo was denounced moult solempnelement in a public consistory and accusations against him were voiced and reiterated. Anjou promised to bring justice and to leave shortly. The audience cried a general Noel, voicing its pleasure.128 Noël Valois underscores the publicity of the event, noting that the 119

AAV, IE, 355, fols. 59v., 83r., 84v., 86r., 87v., 88r., 92v., 101v. Masson, Des guerres en Italie avant les guerres d’Italie, 353–60. 121 AAV, IE, 355, fols. 69v.–74, 80, 82, 85v. 122 AAV, IE, 355, fols. 73v., 74v. 123 AAV, IE, 355, fol. 77v. 124 AAV, IE, 355, fols. 78, 86, 87, 88. 125 Le Fèvre, Journal de Jean le Fèvre, 21. 126 Le Fèvre, Journal de Jean le Fèvre, 22. On Gilles Bellemère, see Henri Gilles, “La vie et les œuvres de Gilles Bellemère,” Bibliothèque de l’École des Chartes 124, no. 1 (1966): 30–136; 124, no. 2 (1966): 382–431. 127 Le Fèvre, Journal de Jean le Fèvre, 23. 128 Le Fèvre, Journal de Jean le Fèvre, 24. 120

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The Angevin Situation k 317 bull of Durazzo’s condemnation was posted on the doors of the palace on March 25, and on the doors of Notre-Dame des Doms on the 26th.129 All Avignon was bound to be aware. On Thursday, March 6, the cardinal of Autun officiated a mass of the Holy Spirit at the Dominican convent, in the presence of the duke and cardinals, and he preached to the people the count’s endeavor (le voiage de Monseigneur). The pope offered a general indulgence, and the Avignonese thanked Anjou.130 His presence in the city was bringing them spiritual mana. Noël Valois cites further a bull of March 17, 1382, which offered plenary indulgence for the duke’s followers who died between May and November 1st, and who had served him for at least six months or contributed financially. The pope equated his Italian campaign to a crusade. In order to involve the maximum number of lay people, he tallied 100 days of indulgences for whomever prayed for the end of the schism, Louis’s success, and the liberation of Joanna.131 It seems obvious that the public aspect of these acts further legitimized the endeavor. If the previous description makes it obvious that local support was sought in Avignon, and elsewhere, Provence was still hesitating. In early April, Le Fèvre notes the ill-will of Aix (rebellion et maulvaise volonté) and that “preaching” had been done in Marseille, with the standard raised on the city’s galleys, while the crowd cheered “Long Live Pope Clement,” “Long live Madame Queen Joanna,” and “Long live Monseigneur the duke of Calabria, her son.”132 In a different tone, he also notes that the pope was advised to speak to the cardinals first in private, and later more openly in public consistories.133 Plans were eventually made to ready the army and gather funds from any means possible – and Le Fèvre lists quite a few, including the cardinals’ gift of their “common service” taxes, while Anjou granted Piedmont to Amadeus, the “Green” Count of Savoy, in exchange for his military support.134 Anjou also signed a treaty against Charles of Durazzo with Bernabò Visconti of Milan. It included the marriage of Visconti’s daughter – she is left unnamed, simply la fille, to Charles, Louis’s second son.135 Still, finances were pressing. Jean Le Fèvre does not hesitate writing, “On Monday [April 28] we met in anguish, from morning till afternoon because we lack funding.”136

129

Valois, La France, 2: 19. Le Fèvre, Journal de Jean le Fèvre, 24. 131 Valois, La France, 2: 24. 132 Le Fèvre, Journal de Jean le Fèvre, 34 (for Aix on May 1, 1382), and 30 (Quasimodo Sunday). 133 Le Fèvre, Journal de Jean le Fèvre, 30. 134 Le Fèvre, Journal de Jean le Fèvre, 24. He received financial incentives to help the Angevins. He died during the Neapolitan campaign in March 1383. For all the financial arrangement, see Masson, Des guerres en Italie avant les guerres d’Italie, 22–23. On Amadeus the “Green” Count of Savoy, see Eugene Cox, The Green Count of Savoy, Amadeus VI and Transalpine Savoy in the Fourteenth Century (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1967); and Bruno Galland, Les papes d’Avignon et la Maison de Savoie (1309–1409) (Rome: École Française de Rome, 1998). On his death, see Nadia Pollini, La mort du Prince, rituels funéraires de la Maison de Savoie (1343–1451) (Lausanne: Université de Lausanne, 1994). On his last 1382 campaign, see Sylvain Macherat, “La dernière campagne d’Amédée VI, comte de Savoie (1382–1383), MA Thesis, Université de Savoie, 2012. 135 Le Fèvre, Journal de Jean le Fèvre, 25. 136 Le Fèvre, Journal de Jean le Fèvre, 34. 130

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318 l avignon during the schism The Neapolitan campaign would start in May, from Pont-Saint-Esprit. For la mi-carême (the third Thursday in Lent), Anjou received the Golden Rose and paraded it throughout the city. The Apostolic Chamber’s registers kept records of the expenses incurred for that rose, paid to Catalanus de la Rocha, for its gold and jewels, including a large sapphire.137 The event not only performed the alliance between the pope and Anjou but it also legitimized Louis’s actions in the eyes of locals, but Le Fèvre does not overly emphasize it, choosing to focus instead on the search for loans (empruns) for the count.138 This funding reached Avignon and its merchants a few days later (April 2) with a mandatory emergency loan from the gabelles taxes for the next three years.139 The high point of this voyage was of course the readying and eventual departure of troops for Naples. Three sources narrate preparations and allow us to analyze events according to their perspective. Jean Le Fèvre, speaking for Louis, does not overly emphasize the moment – he may have been too worried by the cost. Still, we can note his restraint at overrepresenting his superiors. He simply highlights for Thursday, May 29, that pope, duke, cardinals, and bishops proceeded on foot from the palace to the Franciscan convent and back – one can note the humility of the gesture, Louis walked, only the pope rode back.140 The simplicity of Le Fèvre’s account contrasts with Montpellier’s chronicle of the Petit Thalamus, speaking for a large urban entity, which rewrites Le Fèvre’s short narrative and shifts the emphasis toward the pope. Petit Thalamus frames Louis’s Neapolitan voyage as a crusade, with public calls and sermons, indulgences, and humility. We see in the Petit Thalamus the wide publication of this war; for example, the Montpellier author chronicles the popular sermon preached on the departure of the duke for Naples. It corroborates Le Fèvre with minor exceptions. The chronicle describes pope, cardinals, and the dukes of Anjou and Berry, and other great lords proceeding from the palace to the Franciscans on May 29, but notes that pope and cardinals rode back, while the dukes escorted them on foot. The emphasis is put on the clergymen’s positions. Here we may assume that the dukes held the reins of the clergymen’s horses, as honorable stratores doing right by the Church.141 The chronicle adds that on the following day the pope’s meeting in consistory gave the kingdom of Naples to Joanna and the duke of Anjou, offering him a banner to the arms of Sicily and Jerusalem. The duke kissed the pope’s foot, and all the cardinals on the mouth, then the pope blessed the duke’s weapons, his banner, and his personal square pennon.142 It is certain that the pope offered another banner to the duke, since the apostolic register for May 1382 records payment to a Guillelmus for a large banner

137

AAV, IE, 355, fol. 81. Le Fèvre, Journal de Jean le Fèvre, 25. 139 Le Fèvre, Journal de Jean le Fèvre, 28. 140 Le Fèvre, Journal de Jean le Fèvre, 40. 141 The Holy Roman emperor was usually the pope’s strator. See A. T. Hack, Das Empfangszeremoniell bei mittelalterlichen Papst-Kaiser-Treffen (Cologne: Böhlau Verlag, 1999), 504–40; and Pascal Montaubin, “Pater urbis et orbis: Les cortèges pontificaux dans la rome médiévale (viii e–xiv e siècles),” Rivista di storia della Chiesa in Italia 63 (2009): 26–29, 39, 45; and Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, Le bestiaire du pape (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 2018), 63–66. 142 On ritual kissing, see Kiril Petkov, The Kiss of Peace: Ritual, Self, and Society in the High and Late Medieval West (Leiden: Brill, 2003). 138

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The Angevin Situation k 319 embroidered with the arms of the Church offered on that same day.143 On Saturday, May 30, the duke left Avignon for Pont-de-Sorgues, then Carpentras and Lombardy. In general, the Thalamus narrates a ceremony controlled by the pope and underscores the duke’s obligations toward the latter.144 A third iteration of this celebration shifted the emphasis to the duke and the honorable virility of the nobility. Speaking for the French monarchy, the Chronique des quatre premiers Valois narrates Anjou’s travels to Avignon. There the pope crowned him king of Sicily and Naples, prince of Calabria and Puglia, underscoring that the count of Savoy was by his side (En son aliance et aide, fut le conte de Savoye) – nobility of blood legitimated the affair. The chronicle then notes that Durazzo reminded Anjou that as a man of the highest nobility, the son of a king, he would fail his true “gentleman” nature if he did not challenge him properly (Monseigneur Charles de La Paix manda au duc d’Angou que, si noble prince et de si noble lignage comme il estoit filz du roy de France aloit sur lui sans le deffier, ce n’estoit pas fait de gentil homme). Still, of course, he would duly wait for him to do battle.145 The chronicle advances aristocratic values found in honorable combat. It displays chivalrous rivalries, not mundane greedy conquests. As we can see in these three iterations, the ceremony performed for either the papacy or the duke according to who was telling the story. Louis’s departure for his Italian conquest left Provence in disarray since many Provençaux begrudged his involvement in Joanna’s succession and rebelled against his rule. Two groups of the queen’s supporters opposed each other, threatening the region’s peace. As early as October 1381, cities such as Marseille proposed to send help to their queen, requesting aid from the pope, the king, and his brother Louis of Anjou, while other cities supported Aix in a “union of the cities against the enemies of the queen and homeland.”146 The latter counted Aix, Forcalquier, Hyeres, Nice, and Apt. The papacy was well aware of the threat. On August 28, 1381, for example, a Dominican brother brought to Marseille’s councilmen a papal letter reiterating that rumors circulating about an eventual invasion of Provence by the duke of Anjou were just fake news, motivated by “a spirit of iniquity and treason.”147 It is noteworthy that the queen’s ardent defenders in Marseille were willing to send a fleet in support of Anjou. Unfortunately, Anjou chose the land route and basically ignored the support that this fleet offered – something considered a waste of resources by military historians. Still the support of this fleet occupies Marseille’s town registers, and the Marseillais added subliminal help to their queen during her imprisonment. The council prohibited Marseillaises to wear golden, silver, or pearled crowns, nor any other objects of the same metal, under severe penalties until the queen was saved – although they could on 143

AAV, IE, 355, fol. 97r. Avignon also manifested its support with a banner of gold cloth embroidered with an image of the Virgin. It was carried in procession and held during another sermon that took place at the Preachers. See Pansier, “Annales avignonnaises de 1370–1382,” 56. 144 Archives Communales de Montpellier, AA9, fol. 151v., http://thalamus.huma-num.fr/annalesoccitanes/annee-1382.html (accessed on February 16, 2021). 145 Chronique des quatre premiers Valois (1327–1393), ed. Siméon Luce (Paris: Société de l’histoire de France, 1862), 304. 146 Philippe Mabilly, Inventaire sommaire des archives communales antèrieures à 1790 (délibérations série BB) (Marseille: Imprimerie Mouillot, 1909), 1: 156. 147 Mabilly, Inventaire sommaire, 152.

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320 l avignon during the schism their wedding day. The decree forbade anyone to revel by day or night and banned minstrels and jugglers from plying their trade.148 Skirmishes, negotiations, and poor strategy filled the next few months. Anjou reached Italy via the Alps, Turin, Parma, and Bologna, avoiding Urbanist Florence, Ravenna, Rimini, and Ancona. He was supported in Italy by Rinaldo Orsini and barons faithful to Joanna. He reached Aquila in September but avoided Rome to Clement’s great disappointment – while Clementist galleys had to fend for themselves against the Neapolitans. By October 14, Anjou was 25 kilometers from Naples, with the Provençal fleet trying to support him along the coast, but he still did not attack and chose instead to retreat, beaten by a series of impediments including constant harassment by Durazzo, cold, and hunger. Discouraged, he pleaded for the capitals that would offer him an honorable retreat and even requested a safe passage from Durazzo – who refused and renewed his proposal of a duel. Informed of the death of Joanna in August 1382, Louis took the title of king of Jerusalem and Sicily and received homage from some of the queen’s Neapolitan lords. At this point, he became somewhat encouraged when he learned of the growing animosity between Durazzo and Urban VI. In March 1383, one of Anjou’s leading officers, the count of Savoy, died. Louis went on to manage a few victories and received the Principality of Tarento when Giacomo de Francesco del Balzo Orsini bequeathed it to him, with titles to Constantinople, Romania, and the Principality of Achaia. By December 1383, pirates hassled the Provençal galleys and thus ended this Mediterranean war. Louis’s campaign eventually fizzled. He managed to reach Bari and entered the city in July 1384, asking Venice for help, but for naught. By summer 1384, another great lord decided to join him, Enguerrand de Coucy, and an alliance was struck with the Visconti – through the engagement of Lucia Visconti to Louis II of Anjou. Enguerrand received part of her dowry on his way to Italy. Crossing Tuscany, he learned of Louis’s death on September 20, 1384. The Angevin army broke apart even if it acclaimed his son and successor, Louis II of Anjou.149 Since the duke’s body was supposed to transit up north via Marseille, the city council ordered masses and processions for the occasion and “forbade anyone, under severe penalty, to show signs of joy in public and/or private.”150 These same legislations had been deployed for Queen Joanna’s death. Louis’s viscera and heart, which Le Fèvre calls la porcion du corps de monsegneur, arrived in Avignon via the Chartreuse of Villeneuve on Sunday, November 13, 1384, and were laid at the cathedral.151 Datini’s agent in the city remarks that he was honored with “great light and people.”152 We find in the Vatican registers payments for

148

Mabilly, Inventaire sommaire, 154. The following narrative owes to Masson, Des guerres d’Italie avant les guerres d’Italie, 20–33. 150 Mabilly, Inventaire sommaire, 172. 151 Le Fèvre, Journal de Jean le Fèvre, 66, names Louis’s body, “la porcion du corps de monsegneur” (the part of monseigneur’s body), meaning that no one skirted around the issue that the body had been altered. 152 Robert Brun, “Annales avignonnaises de 1382 à 1410 extraites des archives Datini,” Mémoires de l’institut historique de Provence 12 (1935): 67. 149

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The Angevin Situation k 321 thirty priests who officiated masses for his vigil at Notre-Dame des Doms.153 The following day, the remains were transported to the Dominicans, where a high mass and a sermon preached by the cardinal of Arles (Pierre de Cros) took place. Our Italian witness underscores that it is notable that cardinals stayed longer than an hour – a great honor according to him.154 From then on, Anjou’s remains traveled north for final burial. But it does not seem that his wish to be buried at the Sainte-Chapelle was fulfilled. Evidence shows that the body’s last stop was in Angers.155 Louis’s funeral afforded a last performance of his dukedom. As Marcelle Reynaud notes with perspicacity, Marie de Blois his widow organized a political and territorial legitimation through his burial – it is not certain if it is Marie or Jean Le Fèvre who truly orchestrated the event, or maybe both. Several high-ranking representatives of the Angevins, the kingdom of Naples, and the county of Provence, escorted the remains at each stage. Funeral director Jean Le Fèvre was present in both Angers and Tours, linking royal entry with funeral masses.156 We know from Jean Le Fèvre that two months after his death in Bari, a couple of officers left the county of Anjou to escort back the duke’s remains. By mid-December, the remains arrived in Angers’ vicinity on their way to Saint-Martin de Tours, where a lengthy back and forth between Angers and Tours took place regarding the organization of the funeral. On December 23, 150 torch carriers illuminated the procession that stopped first outside the walls of Saint-Martin to unhorse the litter and have it carried by hand. The burial of viscera in Tours was done in grand pomp with several masses and orations. The heart arrived by river to Angers, on December 28, and was buried at Saint-Maurice on the 29th. Jean Le Fèvre does not address what was done with the rest of the body.157 Michel Pintoin, the chronicler of Saint-Denis mentions that Anjou died verus catholicus. Embalmed, he was placed in a lead casket (conditum aromatibus, in sarcophago plumbeo posuissent). Pintoin does not mention his postmortem partition.158 The death of Anjou changed the dynamic of the “Italian war.” Louis’s young son (Louis II) was now king and his mother regent. A Marseillais document enlightens readers on the situation and offers a glimpse of the performance of military pride. According to an October 18, 1384, document, after announcing the death of the duke and the immediate acknowledgment of Louis II as heir, officers of Louis I’s army went to the castle of Barleta, where Durazzo resided, and taunted him into combat with a “Long Live the new King Louis.”159 The death of Louis I did not change their resolve at defeating Durazzo. Louis’s officers were fighting for honor and not cash – as the many soldiers of Durazzo did.

153 154 155

156 157 158 159

AAV, IE 359, fol. 63v. (November 1384). Brun, “Annales avignonnaises,” 67. Masson, Des guerres d’Italie avant les guerres d’Italie, 33; and Marcelle Reynaud, “Foi et politique: Autour de la mort des princes d’Anjou Provence (environ 1383–environ 1480),” Provence historique 143 (1986): 25–26. Reynaud, “Foi et politique,” 26. See Le Fèvre, Journal de Jean Le Fèvre, 77–78, for the funeral. CRSD, 1: livre V, 338–39. Mabilly, Inventaire sommaire, 172.

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322 l avignon during the schism

Marie de Blois, Louis II, the War of Aix, and Raymond de Turenne (1384–1394)

L

ouis I’s death propelled his highly efficient wife, Marie de Blois, to the front of Provençal and Schismatic politics. Her recent biographers describe a woman who had since her young age experienced political maneuvering and expertly navigated troubled waters.160 Her father Charles de Blois fought the Montfort for the duchy of Brittany in the Breton war of succession (1341–1365). Captured in 1347, he eventually negotiated his freedom with Edward III of England. He temporarily regained control of the duchy, sealed with a promise of marriage between his son Jean and Edward’s daughter’s Margaret. It included one caveat: the Blois’ children needed to remain hostage in England. Ten-yearold Marie was one of them. She learned early in life the price aristocratic children paid for the politics of their fathers. After their marriage, Louis saw strength in his wife. When in 1382 he left for Italy, he gave her full power.161 If there may have been doubts that she could rule alone, none were left after his death in 1384. His will instituted Marie regent of their son Louis II, until his majority at twenty-one.162 Marie had to perform literally and figuratively on several fronts. If the French Angevin territories posed no issues over her son’s succession, the continuation of the war of Aix did. She had to negotiate with Provençal cities that chose Durazzo over Louis II to convince them to join her ranks and with the French crown (via the Duke of Berry), who eyed Joanna’s Provençal heritage now due to her son Louis II. In addition, Marie had to face Charles of Durazzo – and after his murder in Hungary on February 6, 1386, his son Ladislaus – for Queen Joanna’s crowns of Naples, Sicily, and Jerusalem. Finally, she needed to appease her overlord, Pope Clement VII, for the said kingdoms. Marie first chose independence and refused any alliance with Milan and Naples. She reneged on the marriages between Anjou and Visconti, and Anjou and Durazzo (with Jeanne, Charles of Durazzo’s daughter), choosing instead to focus on Provence. The county submitted to her in 1387. She negotiated her peace through various means. Every single page of Jean Le Fèvre’s diary shows the concessions, offices, fiefs, castles, payments, and remissions that she granted. Jean-Michel Matz itemizes some 3,200 sealed letters originating from Marie’s chancery between 1384 and June 1388 (with an interruption between October 1386 and early May 1387).163 This diplomatic abundance defines her politic of negotiations for a victory at all cost. As Jean-Michel Matz and Marion Chaigne-Legouy emphasize, Marie de Blois also knew how to hold her rank and perform authority, as demonstrated through her utilization See Françoise Arlot, “Dans la tourmente du XIVe siècle. Marie de Blois, comtesse de Provence et reine de Naples,” Provence historique 56, no. 223 (2006): 53–89; and 56, no. 224 (2006): 155–94. See also Jean-Michel Matz, “Princesse au pouvoir, femme de pouvoir? L’action politique de Marie de Blois d’après le Journal du chancelier Jean Le Fèvre (1383–1388),” Mélanges de l’École française de Rome, moyen âge 129, no. 2 (2017), http://journals.openedition.org/mefrm/3666; and Marion Chaigne-Legouy, “Femmes au ‘cœur d’homme’ ou pouvoir au féminin? Les duchesses de la seconde Maison d’Anjou (1360–1481),” PhD dissertation, Université Paris-Sorbonne, 2014. 161 Le Fèvre leaves no doubt mentioning a letter where “monseigneur le duc li donne plainne puissance.” See Le Fèvre, Journal de Jean le Fèvre, 43. 162 Matz, “Princesse au pouvoir,” paragraph 7. 163 Matz, “Princesse au pouvoir,” paragraph 18. 160

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The War of Aix k 323 of seals. Marie’s seals were round, a “masculine” shape, instead of ogival, the traditional shape of women’s seals. In addition, angels with open arms framed the border of her seals, imitating the symbolism of the Virgin in majesty.164 Marie knew how to ascertain her dominance and control. Marie’s authority rested on her many discussions and negotiations with the papal court and ritual give and take. We can read in her performance an acute understanding of her function. It is quite obvious that receiving oaths of fealty from her vassals legitimated her authority. When Arles folded under her banner in December 1385, she set herself and her son up on a scaffolding against the walls of the archiepiscopal palace’s courtyard (the one where Louis would eventually be married, surrounded by the magnificent Tapestry of the Apocalypse). Thus “promoted,” she received the homage of the entire city.165 Her sojourn in Provence was orchestrated and scripted to perfection. Marie showed at once legitimating authority – something rather masculine – and motherly devotion. She managed to play with her assigned gender roles. Her 1385 entry in Avignon can serve as one example. Nearing Avignon in April 1385, the bishop of Autun met her retinue at PontSaint-Esprit to negotiate her entry. Bouts of the plague hastened her departure from the village.166 Still, in that short period, she managed to receive oaths of fealty from the pope’s own majordomo, George de Marle, and from Jean Le Fèvre, her late husband’s chancellor. The oath taken on the Gospels (Ewangiles) emphasized both their respect for Marie, young King Louis, and his brother Charles, and the ultimate secrecy of their dealings. Marie received the respect owed to her late husband. She was treated as a competent ruler. In return, she promised the same, holding the hand of de Marle. With de Marle and Le Fèvre in front of her, they promised each other fealty, holding each other’s hands and finishing with the kiss of peace.167 The Clementist Angevin policies rested on these oaths. Still, Marie had managed to sustain total allegiance from the pope’s man – this may explain why in December 1387 she chose de Marle as seneschal of Provence.168 Her political acumen continued. In most encounters with the pope, Marie did not meet him before her son did. Deferring in this case to the masculine authority of her son, she displayed his preeminence, and her motherly ability to put him forward instead of herself. She minimized as such any form of criticism for personal gain or viragoism. For example,

164

165

Matz, “Princesse au pouvoir,” paragraph 19; and Marion Chaigne-Legouy, “Titres et insignes du pouvoir des duchesses de la seconde Maison d’Anjou. Une approche diplomatique, sigillaire et emblématique de la puissance féminine à la fin du Moyen Âge,” Mélanges de l’École française de Rome, moyen âge, 129, no. 2 (2017), http://journals.openedition.org/mefrm/3790. Madame et le Roy son filz furent en un eschafaut fait hault de VIII ou IX degrés contre un mur en la court de l’arcevesque. Là messire Raymon Bernard proposa. Apres la proposicion les IIII sindics et les VI de la guerre et le capitainne de la ville firent hommage lige, et sacrement de fidelité pour tout le peuple. Et apres l’ommage fait, en signe de consentement chascun leva les II mains en hault et y avoit grand peuple utriusque sexus Christianorum et Judeorum [note the linguistic shift between French and Latin].

Le Fèvre, Journal de Jean le Fèvre, 207. “Ce jour fu rapporté à Madame que on mouroit au Pont Saint Esperit de boce et especialment petis enfans; pour quoi elle delibera de soi partir l’andemain.” Le Fèvre, Journal de Jean le Fèvre, 101. 167 For the details of the oath that de Marle and Le Fèvre took, see Le Fèvre, Journal de Jean le Fèvre, 101. On de Marle, see Genequand Une politique pontificale en temps de crise, 366–76. 168 Le Fèvre, Journal de Jean le Fèvre, 370, 482, 507. 166

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324 l avignon during the schism again in April 1385, on St. Mark day (April 25), a group of cardinals reached Villeneuve, where the Angevins had arrived. The cardinals escorted young Louis (he was eight at the time) to the papal palace where he was received in consistory, sitting on a chair next to the pope. Note the child’s position of preeminence. He then ate with the pope and cardinals, and spent the night, alone, at the palace. Entering Avignon the following day, Marie was also received in consistory, but sat “amongst the cardinal-bishops.” Note in this case the different positioning and distance from the pope, amid his court but further from him than her son had been the day before. She then retreated to her Avignonese quarters to dine alone while her son ate, again, with the pope. Only after dinner did Louis join his mother, escorted by several cardinals. The following day, Friday, Marie and the pope discussed alone (et seul à seul palerent), once protocol had been successfully performed.169 Marie was not unaware of her tenuous position. By early May, she had negotiated that letters sent in the name of the young king would state “Ludovicus rex etc., de auctoritate et assensu domine Marie regine genitricis et gubernatricis etc.,” that is “Louis, king, on the authority and consent of his mother Marie, queen and governor, etc.” Marie’s work was all in finesse.170 The Angevin Avignonese visit was stressed with various liturgical celebrations, from sermons, harangues, and masses, to formal homage – in the manner of Provence.171 This Provençal homage, taken by a certain Francisque de Boleres, for example, shows him kissing the mouth of Madame, then the king’s foot, and in return the king kissed the knight on the mouth. Marie’s presence and role received ample recognition. During the ceremony, the king and his mother sat while the knight kneeled.172 While appreciative of these shows of support, the Angevins’ aim was to receive and display legitimacy. They had to give homage to the pope for their Neapolitan, Sicilian, and Jerusalem kingdoms, and in turn to receive the homage of their Provencal vassals – this would formalize the pope’s recognition of their position. Their goal was finally reached after many discussions, including a consistory the king could not attend because he was napping – we can recognize here the protective, motherly touch, and Marie’s fine diplomatic skills.173 She needed to perform simultaneously maternal care and political acumen. On the vigil of Pentecost, during a public consistory with Marie and the king present, the pope finally acquiesced to their formal recognition – Le Fèvre notes “graciously in French.”174 On Pentecost Sunday, after the papal mass, the young king – in this instance authorized by his mother – made homage to the pope and received his infeudacion. On Thursday, June 8, 1385, cardinals and many more did homage to Marie and Louis for their Provençal fiefs.175

169 170 171 172 173

174 175

Le Fèvre, Journal de Jean le Fèvre, 104. Le Fèvre, Journal de Jean le Fèvre, 106. See Le Fèvre, Journal de Jean le Fèvre, 105–7. Le Fèvre, Journal de Jean le Fèvre, 109. “Madame fu en consistoire entre les II premiers cardinaux et moy qui parloie et messier Raymon Bernard au dos de Madame. Le Roy ne fu pas present quar il dormoit et on ne le vouloit pas esveiller.” Le Fèvre here wants to stress the youth of the king and the good mothering of Madame. See Le Fèvre, Journal de Jean le Fèvre, 110. Le Fèvre, Journal de Jean le Fèvre, 110–11. Le Fèvre, Journal de Jean le Fèvre, 120.

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The War of Aix k 325 Without overthinking and modernizing Marie’s strategy, it seems that she understood quite well how to perform legitimacy. Public displays of allegiance to the pope cemented her, and her son’s, position, as she continued to project traditional feminine motherly roles. Marie de Blois may have been a master player at positioning her family through expected masculine strength and feminine charm.176 In June 1385, as Clement was leaving Chateauneuf-du-pape (Chastel Nof ), young Louis met him on the way at Pont-deSorgues. The young king walked to seize the papal mule’s lead – playing the all-important role of imperial strator but being unable to reach the lead because he was so small, the lord of Vinay seized him in his arms so young Louis could reach it. They reached the gate of the castle where Marie was waiting for them, and all dined together. After dinner, the pope left for Avignon.177 The image was a touching display of affection and respect. Marie’s public legitimizing strategy also marked the end of the War of Aix. According to Le Fèvre, on October 21, 1387, after having crossed the Durance “in great danger,” Marie and her children arrived at Our Lady of Consolation near Aix-en-Provence. There, they swore on the Gospels to respect the treaty of peace, while the crowd cheered “Vive le roy Loys” and accepted Angevin lordship, amongst many celebrations.178 Marie’s crowning achievement was the pope’s recognition and coronation of Louis on All-Saints Day 1389. This consecration could only happen after Naples had been reconquered by Otto of Brunswick, the late Queen Joanna’s most recent husband. Brunswick, made general of young Louis II’s armies, entered Naples in July 1387, a few months after Charles of Durazzo’s death. Brunswick owed his victory to his ample distribution of gold and silver to open the city’s doors and to the rivalry between Durazzo and Urban VI.179 It is of note that earlier in the year, on the evening of May 1, 1389, young Louis and his brother Charles had been knighted at St. Denis by Charles VI. The young boys had then arrived dressed as chevaliers errans (knights-errant) – it would be hard to find a more fitting symbol of their liminal state.180 This knighting ceremony, orchestrated by Marie de Blois in front of all the royal dukes, reinforced the Angevin’s legacy.181 Only after their recognition by the entire royal house – who could always attempt to claim Provence, for example – could Louis II have free rein to gain the Neapolitan throne. The Avignonese coronation of Louis II by his uncle Charles VI, accompanied by the dukes of Berry and Burgundy, must have satisfied Marie who had worked ceaselessly for

176

Le Fèvre mentions several instances when the countess raised her voice and stunned her attendance. See, for example, Le Fèvre, Journal de Jean le Fèvre, 110, 125–26. 177 Le Fèvre, Journal de Jean le Fèvre, 174. 178 Le Fèvre, Journal de Jean le Fèvre, 447. 179 It is of note that Otto of Brunswick kept shifting his allegiance to fit his own cause. He also fought for Durazzo. Christophe Masson labels him “a true duke condottiere” who owed his position of Neapolitan king to his military might rather than his fealty to the Angevin cause. See Masson, Des guerres d’Italie avant les guerres d’Italie, 232, 389. In 1392, he was taken prisoner by the Angevin and freed after paying a hefty ransom. See Masson, Des guerres d’Italie avant les guerres d’Italie, 415. 180 Jean Juvenal des Ursins, Histoire de Charles VI roy de France, ed. Denys Godefroy (Paris: Imprimerie royale, 1653), 565. 181 Jean Juvenal des Ursins specifies “Ils avoient esté menez aprés la mort de Louys Duc d’ Anjou leur pere, par la Reyne Marie sa vesve, à la Cour du Roy Charles VI. pour les faire Chevaliers, suivant la coustume.” Juvenal des Ursins, Histoire de Charles VI, 565.

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326 l avignon during the schism this consecration.182 Jean Juvenal des Ursins elaborates in great detail on this ceremony.183 It took place in the papal chapel of the palace, where Marie and a Louis all dressed in white – like a knight Hospitaler – sat on a high platform during the various offices. Louis came down from the scaffolding to meet the pope and swear allegiance for the Kingdom of Sicily, posing both hands on the altar. The cardinal of Ostia offered the sacral unction on the king’s hands, feet, back, and shoulders – while bishops later wiped the holy oil with chunks of bread. He was crowned afterward.184 The presence of the king and queen, and so many other French dignitaries, was a boon for Avignon.185 Additionally, it motivated communal authorities to address the various structural needs that had been ignored until then. Among many repairs, the bridge was renovated and covered with mulch. The streets of the town were paved, dressed with colorful banners and cloths, and lit with torches.186 It would be easy to assume that anyone involved in the purveying of foodstuffs, lodging, and catering equipment profited from the event. But the letters that Francesco di Marco Datini (the renowned Pratese merchant) received from his Avignonese agents insinuate that it may not have been the case. Boninsegna di Matteo first mentions the entrance of the king and his court, estimating the royal group at some 4,000 horses (quite a substantial number), and all the honors that they all received. He notes the crowning ceremonies, adding in a disgruntled tone, “but there were no celebrations.”187 This last sentence suggests that there were no general, 182

See Genequand, Une politique pontificale en temps de crise, 10. Noël Valois addresses the visit using Froissart’s chivalrous imagination. See Valois, La France, 2: 151–57. 183 The chronicler Bertrand Boysset describes the ceremony with some errors and shows awe at all the great lords of France present for the occasion. See Dalché, Bonnet, and Rigaud, Bertrand Boysset, 80–81. 184 Juvenal des Ursins, Histoire de Charles VI, 568–71. 185 Juvenal des Ursins, Histoire de Charles VI, 368, does not overly detail the Avignonese aspect of Charles VI’s voyage. He states that before Charles left Paris for the south, representatives from Languedoc came to the capital to complain about the duke of Berry’s exactions. The king promised that he would visit them. He then went to Saint Denis and offered garments to the royal church (donna à l’Eglise de très beaux vestemens). He traveled to Montargis, La Charité, Nevers, Auvergne, and Macon. He was well received in all these cities. Lyon especially graced him with ample celebrations with many children singing, bonfires, and picnics accompanied with games (Chères se faisoient, feux et tables furent mises par les rues, et ne cessèrent pendant quatre jours de ce faire, jour et nuict. Jeux et esbatemens se faisoient). People celebrated his health and prosperity (en bonne santé et prospérité). The king then reached Roquemaure on the Rhône where the pope sent envoys to accompany him – cardinals, bishops, and prelates. The pope waited in consistory for the king’s arrival, and Avignon received him well. The king entered the palace, curtsied “as a son of the church should” by kneeling on one knee, and kissed the pope’s foot, hand, and mouth. The king sat on a chair located next to the pope’s, but not as high (non mie si haute que celle du pape). He offered his service to the church. Clement called the king his right hand and true champion of the Church (comme à bras dextre de l’Eglise, et vray champion, et très-chrestien roy). Young King Louis, his brother Charles, and their mother were also present. During mass, the pope crowned Louis king. Pope and king had many private discussions and a few with cardinals. The pope acquiesced to petitions and nominations presented by the king. The king then left for Languedoc. 186 Pansier, “Annales Avignonnaises,” 64–67. 187 On Datini, see, for example, Robert Brun, “A Fourteenth-Century Merchant of Italy: Francesco Datini of Prato,” Journal of Economic and Business History 2 (1930): 451–66; Armando Sapori, “Economia e morale della fine del trecento: Il mercante Francesco di Marco Datini da Prato,” Studi Senesi 3, no. 1 (1952): 44–76; Iris Origo, The Merchant of Prato: Francesco di Marco Datini (London:

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The War of Aix k 327 communal festivities that could have added to merchants’ coffers. The following letters, dated November 6 and 14, just complain that regardless of high expectations they did not make a “dime.” Boninsegna adds, “Never have we seen here such a stingy lord.”188 He then adds what may have been the true motivation for the royal visit: “It seems to us that he [King Charles] is begging. Since he was not successful here, he is moving away . . .. This is the way the courts of great lords operate.”189 In another letter dated November 18, he returns to the dearth of business during this visit, and then adds a new twist. People did not buy anything in Avignon because things were cheaper in Paris.190 Competition between the capital and provinces was already stiff. In the end, the only gratification that locals gained from the visit was the chance of actually seeing the king of France. As today’s fans and spectators, for example, line streets to see a presidential motorcade, so medieval folks lined up to see their kings. The chronicler Bertrand Boysset proudly states for 1389, “the penultimate day of January 1389, a Sunday, I, Bertrand Boysset saw Monseigneur Charles, King of France, at Villeneuve, next to Avignon. He left from there and returned to Paris with his people.”191 The only difference is that he did not Tweet or Instagram a picture. The lack of grand celebrations for Louis’s coronation found its source in another issue that weighed heavily on Avignon during this period: Raymond de Turenne (aka the Scourge of Provence). Raymond-Louis Roger de Beaufort (1352–c. 1413), viscount of Turenne, belonged to the Provençal-Limousin nobility and was related to two popes as a member of the “papal” Roger de Beaufort family. He was Clement VI’s grand-nephew and Gregory XI’s nephew. The family controlled numerous fiefs in Provence including the spectacular fortress of Les Baux near Avignon. A renown man of war, and an impressive negotiator, he fought many campaigns for the popes as captain of the Comtat Venaissin and Pontifical Captain in Italy. For example, Raymond participated in the return of Gregory XI to Rome in 1376. However, during the Schism, he fought against the Avignon popes, because of their alignments with the Anjou dynasty that promoted its rule over Provence.192 Raymond turned against Louis I of Anjou when the latter seized several territories attached to his patrimony, including Pertuis, his viscounty capital.

J. Cape, 1957); Federigo Melis, Aspetti della vita economica medievale: Studi nell’archivio Datini di Prato (Siena: Monte dei Paschi di Siena, 1962). Cesare Ciano, La pratica di mercatura datiniana (Milan: Giuffrè, 1964); and Palazzo Datini a Prato: Una casa fatta per durare mille anni, ed. Jérôme Hayez, and Diana Toccafondi (Florence: Edizioni Polistampa, 2012), 2 vols. The quote can be found in Brun, “Annales avignonnaises,” 117. 188 Brun, “Annales avignonnaises,” 117–18. 189 Brun, “Annales avignonnaises,” 118. 190 Brun, “Annales avignonnaises,” 118. 191 Dalché, Bonnet, and Rigaud, Bertrand Boysset, 84–85. 192 See Rollo-Koster, Avignon and Its papacy, 134, 141, 253–54, 259. For more details on Raymond de Turenne, see Noël Valois, Raymond Roger, vicomte de Turenne, et les papes d’Avignon (1386–1408) d’après un document découvert par M. Camille Rivain (Paris: Picard, 1890); Regis Veydarier, “Raymond de Turenne, la deuxième maison d’Anjou et de Provence: Étude d’une rébellion nobiliaire à la fin du Moyen Age,” PhD dissertation, University of Montreal, 1994; Genequand, Une politique pontificale en temps de crise, 10–11, 77, 81, 91, 103–4, 112, 121–23, 131, 239, 241, 245, 257, 259, 310, 321, 355, 362, 364, 372, 380–97; and Masson, Des guerres d’Italie avant les guerres d’Italie, 230, 268, 338.

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328 l avignon during the schism As Marie was battling the Union of Aix, she also needed to address Raymond’s demands. In essence, Raymond, as a great lord of the county, resisted the Angevin’s centralization. He fought the popes and the Angevins because he considered that they had despoiled him. Fearing this Clementist-Angevin alliance, Raymond (rightly) accused Pope Clement VII of defaulting on loans his predecessor had taken with his father and on the payment of his wages. After many equivocations, Raymond supported Marie of Blois during the War of Aix, but still spent his life fighting her, along with Clement VII and Benedict XIII, going so far as refusing to allow the marriage of his only daughter, Antoinette, into the Angevin dynasty. Instead of an Angevin, he chose for his daughter the great marshal Boucicault (Jean II le Meingre). To those willing to listen, he defended his choice by stating that he would never bow to Anjou.193 The chronicler Bertrand Boysset often returns to Turenne’s exactions. He also states about him, “He waged war on France for no reason, and did a lot of harm to the land.”194 Raymond’s attacks were all-encompassing and uncontrollable. There is even a miracle related to his attacks in the Acta Sanctorum. Peter of Luxembourg freed a man who had been captured by Turenne’s men and promised death if he attempted to escape. After praying to the saint for his freedom, he was able to escape.195 Turenne offered allegiance to Marie de Blois in January 1386, while continuing to fight her. In January 1387, a papal army attacked him and forced him to negotiate. He reneged that “truce” eight months later, certainly when he saw the destruction of “his” towns of Pennes and Meyrargues. In January 1389, he seized Châteauneuf-de-Mazenc. Clement used his own brother as commander of his papal troops to force Raymond into another truce. Raymond agreed to it when he managed to receive a duress payment of some 6,000 fl. But seeing the tardiness of the payment’s delivery, Raymond renewed his attacks on Provence in 1390. Finally, in October 1391, Marie and her son relinquished and returned to him all his possessions seized by the Angevins after 1385, as long as he promised to remain faithful to them. This treaty did not stop Raymond from later attacking the Comtat Venaissin. We find various expenses related to “his” exactions in the Vatican registers, including the purchase of two thick parchment books to record his trial.196 The war continued into 1399, well after Clement VII died, occupying the mind and pockets of his successor.197 Philippe Genequand calculates that he cost the papacy up to 64,410 fl. between January 1386 and 1393.198 Raymond’s name is repeated frequently in the Florentine merchants’ letters to show how pressing his incursions were.199 Boninsegna di Matteo writes in September 1386, “Raymond de Turenne is here at the castle of Baux, and every day he runs to the doors of Avignon. He fought Avignon troops, that is the Captain of the Comtat with roughly 40 lances. He took them all. And, they were good; and from here. They say that he can 193

On Boucicault’s exploits, see The Chivalric Biography of Boucicaut, Jean II Le Meingre, trans. Craig Taylor and Jane H. M. Taylor (Woodbridge, Suffolk: Boydell Press, 2016). 194 Dalché, Bonnet, and Rigaud, Bertrand Boysset, 84–85; see also 98–101, for his exactions. 195 Captured by men of Turenne, the laborer Joannes Gaigonis was chained hand and feet. He vowed a visit and an exvoto to Peter’s shrine, and was freed right away. See Acta Sanctorum, vol. 28 (Paris: Palmé, 1867), 509. 196 AAV, IE 371, fols. 79v. and 81r. 197 Genequand, Une politique pontificale en temps de crise, 381–97. 198 Genequand, Une politique pontificale en temps de crise, 391. 199 See, for example, Brun, “Annales avignonnaises,” 33, 61, 93, 130–31.

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The War of Aix k 329 get [ransom] 10,000 fl. for them. He is keeping Avignon in a state of siege.”200 Some ten years later, in September 1397, Arles and Tarascon still had to hire troops in order to protect their grape harvesting from his attacks.201 Finally, one of the longest-lasting – and more peaceful – effects of the Angevin Avignonese visit was a push for the canonization of Peter of Luxembourg, a young cardinal who had died in Avignon in “odor” of sanctity. The king’s cousin, Peter received the bishopric of Metz in 1384 at barely fifteen and died a cardinal three years later, on July 2, 1387, weakened by anorexia. Peter became a popular local intercessor. His high rank, youth, and tomb attracted hundreds of pilgrims to Avignon. Mystics such as Marie Robine also moved close to his remains, setting up residence in a small oratory in the cemetery of Saint-Michel.202 It is of note that Marie de Blois supported Peter’s beatification. Jean Le Fèvre records in his journal for August 24, 1387, that Madame heard mass in Avignon in front of the cardinal’s tomb – this barely a couple of months after his death on July 2. And on February 1, 1388, Le Fèvre sent a petition to the pope to canonize Peter, in the name of Madame.203 In 1389, Marie paid for the construction of a small wooden chapel at his tomb in the cemetery of St. Michel; his tomb already received an outstanding number of visitors (populi multitudinem).204 During the 1389 visit of the king of France, Pierre d’Ailly praised the saint at length in a panegyric that insisted on his youth and miracles.205 According to the Bollandists’ Acta Sanctorum, Peter legitimized the Avignonese obedience with his simple existence. How could the Avignonese obedience be wrong with such a saint? How could such a holy man obey a schismatic pope? And if the pope was truly schismatic, could such a saint be so? In short, the rationale had the infinite advantage of

Brun, “Annales avignonnaises,” 92. Dalché, Bonnet, and Rigaud, Bertrand Boysset, 98–99. 202 See Matthew Tobin, “Le ‘livre des révélations’ de Marie Robine (+1399): Étude et édition,” Mélanges de l’École française de Rome, moyen-âge, temps modernes 98 (1986): 229–64; and Blumenfeld-Kosinski, Poets, Saints, and Visionaries of the Great Schism, 29, 35, 81–85, 93. For Peter’s canonization procedure, see Acta Sanctorum, vol. 28, 428–531; Baluze, Vitae, 1: 490 and 496–97; and Étienne Fourier de Bacourt, Vie du bienheureux Pierre de Luxembourg, étudiant de l’Université de Paris, évêque de Metz et cardinal, 1369–1387 (Paris: Berche et Tralin, 1882). For the importance of Luxembourg in Avignon, see Rollo-Koster, Avignon and Its Papacy, 217, 232–33, 264, 280–81; and “The Politics of Body Parts,” 66–98. See also Yveline Prouvost, “Les miracles de Pierre de Luxembourg (1387–1390),” in Hagiographie et culte des saints en France méridionale (Xiiie–Xve siècle) (Toulouse: Privat, 2002), 481–506; Michel Feuillas, “Une tradition hagiographique: Les panegyriques latins du bienheureux Pierre de Luxembourg dans l’église des célestins d’Avignon au XVIIe siècle,” Mémoires de l’Academie de Vaucluse 7 (1985): 87–107; and Louis Stouff, “Une confrérie arlésienne de la première moitié du XVe siècle: La confrérie de Saint Pierre de Luxembourg,” Provence historique 23 (1973): 339–60. 203 “Item littera supplicatoria ad Papam ex parte domine, pro canonizacione Petri cardinalis de Lucembourch.” Le Fèvre, Journal de Jean le Fèvre, 509. 204 Acta Sanctorum, vol. 28, 623 [75]; and Anne-Marie Hayez and Michel Hayez, “Les saints honorés à Avignon au XIVe siècle,” Mémoires de l’academie de Vaucluse 7, no. 6 (1985): 221. On the chapel, see Alain Breton, “La chapelle du bienheureux Pierre de Luxembourg aux Célestins,” Annuaire de la société des amis du palais des papes et des monuments d’Avignon 65–66 (1988–89): 55–68. 205 Valois, La France, 2: 153; and César Egasse Du Boulay, Historia universitatis Parisiensis (Paris: de Bresche, 1668), 4: 663–70. 200 201

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330 l avignon during the schism going in a circle until proven right.206 Still, if the Bollandists constructed his life and death around the Schism, his miracles were not.207 The initial script of his miracles in the months following his 1387 death, and the drafting of his canonization procedure, do not highlight miracles related to the Schism, such as changes of obedience, for example. Most of the miracles were medical: healings and resuscitations. Peter of Luxembourg was not the sole holy person brought forward at the time to legitimize or perform for the Avignon papacy and its obedience. It is notable that Jean Le Fèvre mentions a Provençal push for the canonization of Delphine de Sabran (or Puimichel), a Provençal Franciscan tertiary who spent the last fifteen years or so of her life in Apt. She died in 1360.208 Her and her husband’s virginal marriage endeared them to the local population and brought them popular sanctity. A canonization inquest started in 1363 but ended with no result. A generation later, an inquest started anew in the middle of negotiations between Provence and Louis I of Anjou. In April 1382, Le Fèvre notes that the Lord of Sault requested, as a gesture of goodwill toward Apt, which had folded behind Louis, that she be canonized.209 A new life of Delphine was prepared during the Schism between 1385–1395, reinforcing the notion that saints were indeed political tools in the Middle Ages. November 1389 had been an eventful month. The election of Boniface IX in Rome, succeeding Urban VI’s death, sealed the Schism for good. The dual courts were here to stay.

206

Quis vero æstimaret Cardinalem hunc beatissimum tot præfulgidis arque stupendis coruscare miraculis, si schismatico Pontifici adhæsisset, qui etiam schismaticus extitisset? Absit nimirum talis error, cum extra Ecclesiam militantem nullus salvetur, & ejus obedientiam, etiam Martyr pro Christi nomine, si sit schismaticus, qui si verum Papam non habeat pro capite, utique nec Christum, cujus personam repræsentat; qui autem tam præclaris contrariaretur prodigiis, contrarius prorfus censeretur veritati. Unde liquet, hunc scriptorem plus satis loqui pro affectu.

Acta Sanctorum, vol. 28, 496 [58]. Prouvost, “Les miracles de Pierre de Luxembourg (1387–1390),” 481–506. 208 On this saint, see, among many, Roselyne Forbin d’Oppède, La Bienheureuse Delphine de Sabran et les saints de Provence au XIVe siècle (Paris: Plon et Nourrit, 1883); Marthe Dulong, “Les dernières années de sainte Delphine à Apt d’après le procès de canonisation,” Provence historique 6 (1956): 132–38; Paul Amargier, “Dauphine de Puimichel et son entourage au temps de sa vie aptésienne (1345–1360),” Mémoires de l’academie de Vaucluse 7, no. 6 (1985): 111–24; André Vauchez, “Aux origines de la “fama sanctitatis” d’Elzéar († 1323) et Dauphine de Sabran († 1360): Le mariage virginal,” Mémoires de l’academie de Vaucluse 7, no. 6 (1985): 153–63; PierreAndré Sigal, “Les témoins et les témoignages au procès de canonisation de Dauphine de Puimichel (1363),” Provence historique 195, no. 196 (1999): 461–72; Dyan Elliott, Spiritual Marriage: Sexual Abstinence in Medieval Wedlock (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2003); Nicole Archambeau, “Tempted to Kill: Miraculous Consolation for a Mother after the Death of her Infant Daughter,” in Emotions and Health, 1200–1700, ed. Elena Carrera (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 47–66; Cristina Andenna, “Women at the Angevin Court between Naples and Provence: Sancia of Majorca, Dephine of Puimichel, and the ‘Struggle’ for a Female Franciscan Life,” in Queens, Princesses, and Mendicants: Close Relations in a European Perspective, ed. Nikolas Jaspert and Imke Just (Zurich: Lit, 2019), 29–51. Her life and canonization inquests have been edited, see Jacques Cambell, Vies occitanes de saint Auzias et de sainte Dauphine (Rome: Pontificium Athenaeum Antonianum, 1963); and Enquête pour le procès de canonisation de Dauphine de Puimichel, comtesse d’Ariano (Turin: Bottega d’Erasmo, 1978). 209 Le Fèvre, Journal de Jean le Fèvre, 32. 207

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The First French Subtraction of Obedience k 331 Boniface crowned his own king of Naples in May 1390, Ladislaus of Durazzo. Chapter 6 itemized his involvement with the Roman obedience. In the meantime, Louis II of Anjou traveled to Naples to seize his throne. This effervescence, and maybe the first glimpses of success, revived the via facti and the notion that Boniface IX could be eliminated by force from Rome and replaced by Clement – and thus end the Schism.210 In between descriptions of a renewed wave of the plague (from August to December 1390 and killing some twenty to thirty people a day) Boninsegna di Matteo shares with his correspondents his hopes of a papal return to Rome. He recounts how the news was publicized via a sermon on the first day of Lent (February 18, 1390), stating “and when the sermon was over, the one who preached it said, speaking for the pope: ‘I declare that the pope is prepared to go to Rome, and soon.’”211 But a month later, the project was abandoned when the king of France, who was supposed to join him, favored discussions with Richard II of England. In Italy, Louis II was somewhat successful. In April 1392, the French victory at the Battle of Ascoli allowed the capture of Otto of Brunswick and Alberigo de Barbiano – both had switched sides and joined Durazzo. Between June and August, Angevin papal troops seized Amalfi and Calabria, but the war expenses and the lack of definitive victories ended all hopes of a continuation. This was a war of attrition on both sides. Realizing the absurdity of spending the revenue of the Church on a somewhat doubtful enterprise, Clement finally refused to support any further Louis’s campaign. Between 1385 and 1395, the Apostolic Chamber paid 470,000 fl. to the cause with minimal results for the Church.212 According to Jean Favier, in twenty-five years, the papal Angevin alliance cost the papacy 1,230,000 francs – an enormous sum for meagre results.213 Philippe Genequand calculates that the Provençal war cost 162,400 fl. between 1383 and 1386, that is, some 7 percent of the papal revenues, or a full year of real revenues, without including indirect costs such as loss of profits and tax collections and the salaries of war commanders such as George de Marle, papal majordomo and seneschal of Provence, who received between 1,000 to 2,000 gold florins a year.214

The First French Subtraction of Obedience (1398–1403) lement VII died on Wednesday, September 16, 1394, and with him died France’s staunch support of the Avignon Clementist obedience. Clement’s successor Benedict XIII (the Aragonese Pedro de Luna) promised conciliation and work toward union but never once doubted that he was the legitimate pope. He promised in his electoral “capitulation” that he would work toward union but was meticulous – or in any case not speedy or

C

210

Masson, Des guerres d’Italie avant les guerres d’Italie, 36–38. Brun, “Annales avignonnaises,” 126–27. 212 Masson, Des guerres d’Italie avant les guerres d’Italie, 40. 213 Jean Favier, Les papes d’Avignon (Paris: Fayard, 2006), 604. 214 Genequand, Une politique pontificale en temps de crise, 365. 211

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332 l avignon during the schism efficient enough for the French crown, to fulfill his obligations. Three councils called by the king (and his family) between 1395 and 1398 resulted in “cession,” that is a French Subtraction of obedience.215 The results of the vote of subtraction were proclaimed by the king’s chancellor, Arnaud de Corbie, on July 28, 1398, in front of a large crowd attending the royal palace in Paris.216 The Clementist cardinals abandoned their pope in Avignon, crossed the bridge, and found residence in Villeneuve, across the Rhône in French territory. Avignon citizens sided with them in September. The subtraction allowed the rise of a Gallican church, financially freed from “Roman” financial pressures in regard to taxation and collations; it also freed cardinals and Avignon citizenry from the pope’s overlordship. Hélène Millet, who discussed in detail the 1398 Subtraction voting procedure, clarifies how the vote took place: it was a blend of uttered declarations eventually put down in writing.217 Under the watchful eyes of the domini presidentes (the royal dukes), each prelate “deposed” his opinion, orally and in writing, sometimes bringing a cedula written of his own hand or dictated to a secretary.218 We can note this voting procedure’s sensorial reliance on aurality, the traditional “nuncupative” form, familiar in, for example, medieval testamentary practice.219 Medieval legal practice relied heavily on dictation. A testator dictated his nuncupative testament to a sworn specialist, a notary, who recorded the words.220 The late Middle Ages favored this form of aurality, which oscillated between dictating, writing, and repeating out loud, regardless of the spread of silent reading at the time.221 The public legal character of words enunciated loudly and clearly remained.

This is the topic of my “The Politics of Body Parts,” 66–98. Hélène Millet, Le vote de la soustraction d’obédience en 1398 (Paris: Édition du centre national de la recherche scientifique, 1988), 36. 217 Millet, Le vote de la soustraction d’obédience, 3–4. See also Hélène Millet, L’Église du Grand Schisme, 1378–1417 (Paris, Éditions Picard, 2009), 30–84. 218 Millet, Le vote de la soustraction d’obédience, 6–41. 219 It should be underscored that Provençal testamentary practice was widely distributed to all classes of society. However, a majority of testators were illiterate, and could not read or understand their own testament in Latin. They relied on the dictation and translation of information held in writing – of a language they could not read. 220 See, for example, the various essays in For the Salvation of my Soul: Women and Wills in Medieval and Early Modern France, ed. Joëlle Rollo-Koster and Kathryn Reyerson (St. Andrews: St. Andrews Studies in French History and Culture, 2012). Traditionally, the testator dictated his last wishes to a public notary in his vernacular in the presence of seven witnesses. The notary drafted the requests in a quick hand and then transcribed them according to formulary practice on the proper, legal document. One copy, usually in Latin and on parchment, was given to the testator while a copy remained with the notary, in Avignon authoritative persona publica. The most important words a testator needed to pronounce out loud were “Ego instituo talem heredem meum universalem.” See Jacques Chiffoleau, La comptabilité de l’au-delà: Les hommes, la mort et la religion dans la region d’ Avignon à la fin du moyen âge (Paris, École française de Rome, 1980), 39–40. 221 I briefly addressed the issue in Avignon in Rollo-Koster, “The Politics of Body Parts,” 79–80. Regarding the interplay between orality, literacy, and aurality, see, for example, Joyce Coleman, “Interactive Parchment: The Theory and Practice of Medieval English Aurality,” The Yearbook of English Studies 25 (1995): 63–79; Leidulf Melve, ”Literacy, Aurality–Orality: A Survey of Recent Research into the Orality/Literacy Complex of the Latin Middle Ages (600–1500),” Symbolae Osloenses 78, no. 1 (2003): 143–97, DOI: 10.1080/00397670310000383; and Kate Colleran, 215

216

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The First French Subtraction of Obedience k 333 This reliance on aurality, on reading out loud written words for legal means, is emphasized by contemporary witnesses of the Schism at all social levels. Aurality belonged to the panoply of medieval political propaganda, to political performance. But the Schism suggests that both reading and writing coexisted. In 1396, the surveyor Bertrand Boysset, whose chronicle has already been cited, notes in Provençal on February 8 that the University of Paris (l’estudi e per las communitat de Paris) had admonished Benedict in writing, with a “call” (fon apelat) to the pope, posted on the portal on the French side of the bridge at Villeneuve. He adds that the pamphlet remained there a long time, and whoever knew how to, and wanted to, read it at his own leisure.222 Here we have to assume that some could read the note either silently or aloud, as a service to those who could not. The written word was replacing the call of the herald – evidence also of the level of literacy in the city. The subtraction, however, offers a clear example of the continuing reliance on aurality in Avignon, with the frequent use of sermons to circulate propagandist news. In 1399, while rumor was spreading in the city that France and the cardinals would return their obedience to Benedict, the cardinals convoked the leadership of all the Avignonese convents to quell it, fearing that the wrong news would incite popular upheaval (timentesque comocionem populi). The cardinals ordered that on Sunday, November 23, all monasteries preach that neither France nor the cardinals would restitute their obedience. Preachers needed to “instruct” folk (populum super hiis instruere) and insist that the subtraction was necessary and fair. People simply needed to pray for union. It was further decided that on the Feast of St. Catherine, the cardinal of Viviers would officiate mass and Peter Candonis would preach from the Vulgate’s Psalm 34:13, “Ne avertas lingam tuam a malo et labia tua ne locantur dolum” (Keep your tongue from evil and your lips from telling lies). The message to the population was again very clear. Martin de Alpartil adds that for the Feast of the Conception 1399, the auditor of the cardinal of Jerusalem preached in front of the cardinals and a crowd, at the Carmelite convent, in Latin and in vernacular Romançio. It is clear that cardinals made sure that their message spread far and wide.223 In addition to sermons, it seems safe to assume that public declarations were backed up with public displays of their redacted forms. For example, on September 6, 1401, Benedict – still prisoner in the palace – received official protection from the king of France and the duke of Orléans. His safekeeping was officially pronounced in Villeneuve – on the French side of the bridge – and at the Chapel St. Nicholas – on the Avignon/papal side. The news was obviously announced by a town crier, as suggested by Alpartil’s wording, “Et post hoc “Scampanata at the Widows’ Windows: A Case-Study of Sound and Ritual Insult in Cinquecento Florence,” Urban History 36, no. 3 (2009): 359–78. It seems pretty obvious that writing cohabited with other forms of communication, before writing took over “legally.” See Marco Mostert, “Introduction,” in Medieval Legal Process: Physical, Spoken and Written Performance in the Middle Ages, ed. Marco Mostert and P. S. Barnwell (Turnhout: Brepols, 2012), 1–10. 222 Dalché, Bonnet, and Rigaud, Bertrand Boysset, 91. See also, Franz Ehrle, “Die Chronik des Garoscus de Ulmoisca Veteri und Bertrand Boysset,” Archiv fur Literatur- und Kirchengeschichte des Mittelalters 7 (1900): 346–47. 223 Martin de Alpartil, Cronica actitatorum temporibus Benedicti XIII Pape, ed. and trans. Jose Angel Sesma Mufioz and Maria del Mar Agudo Romeo (Zaragoza: Gobierno de Aragón: Centro de Documentación Bibliográfica Aragonesa, 1994), 93–94. For an example of a later king’s missive to Avignon (dated August 1401), reinforcing the defense of the subtraction, see Joseph Fornery, Histoire du Comté Venaissin et de la Ville d’Avignon (Avignon: F. Seguin, 1910), 467–68.

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334 l avignon during the schism VI septembris salvagardia predicta fuit preconizata [my italics] in Villanova et in ponte iuxta capellam Santi Nicholay et publicata.”224 His usage of preconizata suggests that much. He continues that he could not include a copy because he had none, “Non habui copiam, ideo non est inserta,” evidence enough that there usually were copies written down.225 The posting of pamphlets on gates also brings to mind recent works in medieval art that suggest an artistic link between the visual and the oral, what Stefano Riccioni calls epiconografia. The author unites in the term what neurologists separate, the left and right side of the brain, suggesting a “visible synthesis” (or what we could label a form of synesthesia) or link between epigraphy and iconography as evidenced in architecture, mosaics, etc. – a link between reading/uttering, and seeing in general.226 Following this suggestion, it seems that reading something on a portal may have been a familiar, natural act done maybe countless of times when looking at the entryways of churches, chapels, convents, etc. People were accustomed to seeing/reading inscriptions imbedded in gates’ decorations or in pamphlets stuck on them. In sum, gates performed, they were a familiar mode of communication because of course they were a well-frequented point of entry, but also because folks were used to seeing/ reading “writing” on them, either as part of their decorations or “invasive” communication (such as posted pamphlets). As liminal space, gates also opened to a different literary “realm.” Folks read gates literally and symbolically. City gates delimited the space between communal governance and the rest of the political world. Political writing on this space defined, in a sense, the sacrality of the civic space.227 Martin de Alpartil, in his chronicle, mentions several occasions when “pamphlets” were posted on public locations of the city (usually the gates of the palace or of the city’s tribunals) to admonish pope and people.228 The assumption is that folks who knew how to read could do so for an audience; but again, in a space as literate as the capital of Christianity one could expect that many read these pamphlets silently and formed their own opinion.229 More interestingly, Alpartil cites a 1408 embassy to Rome who left one of these pamphlets (cedula) on the altar of St. Peter, reminding the hesitating Gregory XII – who had promised to meet his rival – that “a pope is not a true pope if he does not respect his promises.”230 The symbolism and reality of the message was clear enough. St. Peter 224

De Alpartil, Cronica actitatorum temporibus Benedicti XIII, 111–12. Michel Hébert, “Voce preconia: Note sur les criées publiques en Provence à la fin du Moyen Âge,” in Milieux naturels, espaces sociaux. Études offertes à Robert Delort, ed. Élisabeth Mornet and Franco Morenzoni (Paris: Publications de la Sorbonne, 1997), 689–701. 226 Stefano Riccioni, “L’epiconografia: L’opera d’arte come sintesi visiva di scrittura e immagine,” in Medioevo: Arte e storia, Atti del X Convegno internazionale di studi (Parma, 18–22 sett. 2007), ed. Arturo Carlo Quintavalle (Milano: Electa 2008), 465–80. 227 On writing and sacrality and the new push to redefine the space of sacred writing “Sakrale Schrifträume,” see Stefano Riccioni, “From Shadow to Light: Inscriptions in Liminal Spaces of Roman Sacred Architecture (11th–12th Century), in Sacred Scripture/Sacred Space: The Interlacing of Real Places and Conceptual Spaces in Medieval Art and Architecture, ed. Tobias Frese, Wilfried E. Keil, and Kristina Krüger (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2019), 217–44; and other articles pertaining to the topic in the same publication. 228 De Alpartil, Cronica actitatorum temporibus Benedicti XIII, 24, 26, 107, 120–21. 229 For a revisionist view of literacy in the Middle Ages, see Carol Symes, “Popular Literacies and the First Historians of the First Crusade,” Past & Present 235, no. 1 (2017): 37–67. 230 De Alpartil, Cronica actitatorum temporibus Benedicti XIII, 201. 225

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The First French Subtraction of Obedience k 335 could read silently at his leisure. In passing, it is impossible to identify if the event copied steps taken centuries earlier to instigate the Orthodox schism. On July 16, 1054, Cardinal Humbert of Silva Candida and two of his colleagues laid a bull of excommunication on the high altar of Hagia Sophia excommunicating Michael Cerularius, patriarch of Constantinople, for his “folly.” As they left, they turned around and yelled “Videat Deus et judicet!” (“May God see and judge!”) shaking the dust of the cathedral from their feet.231 In both cases, the assumption was that God would read the bull. In a 2003 article, I discussed in detail the effects of the subtraction on Avignon’s space, population, and culture.232 Avignon’s authorities sided with the rebellious cardinals and Benedict was besieged in his impregnable fortress. Once the cardinals abandoned Benedict, they left the city for Villeneuve, literally cutting themselves off from the pope and his palace. The entire history of the subtraction in Avignon is actually one of distancing: individuals separated themselves from the pope, and a new architecture (the College of St. Martial and the Célestins Convent) anchored a new city-center, separated from traditional poles of authorities, that is, the papal palace and the old city enclosed within its twelfth-century walls. During the Subtraction, the citizenry was also able to enforce on the papal court a kind of spatial symbolic payback in the form of chained barricades that they raised around the palace. These barricades somewhat replicated the livrées, housing clusters delimited by chains and barricades that formed in Avignon cardinals’ residential “palaces.” Livrées encroached on Avignonese reduced space and caused tension between the population and the court. Of course, renting or selling houses to curialists was a profitable business,

231

Steven Runciman, The Eastern Schism: A Study of the Papacy and the Eastern Churches during the XIth and XIIth Centuries (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1955), 47–48. 232 Rollo-Koster, “The Politics of Body Parts,” 66–98. Primary sources for the period of the two Subtractions are actually quite abundant and allow us to get a good picture of how the events unraveled in Avignon. See Dalché, Bonnet, and Rigaud, Bertrand Boysset; De Alpartil, Cronica actitatorum temporibus Benedicti XIII Pape; the various articles of Franz Ehrle, “Aus den Acten des Afterconcils von Perpignan 1408,” Archiv für Literatur- und Kirchengeschichte des Mittelsalters 5 (1889): 387–481; and 7 (1900): 576–696; “Neue Materialen zur Geschichte Peters von Luna (Benedicts XIII.),” Archiv für Literatur- und Kirchengeschichte des Mittelsalters 6 (1892): 139–308; and 7 (1900): 1–310; his edition of Boysset’s chronicle in “Die Chronik des Garoscus de Ulmoisca Veteri und Bertrand Boysset,” Archiv fur Literatur- und Kirchengeschichte des Mittelalters 7 (1900): 317–413; and his edition of Martin de Alpartil’s chronicle in Alpartil, Franz Ehrle and Martin de Alpartils, Chronica Actitatorum Temporibus Domini Benedicti XIII (Paderborn: F. Schöningh, 1906). See also Francois Charles Carreri, “Chronicon parvum Avinionense de schismate et bello (1397–1416),” Annales d’Avignon et du Comtat Venaissin 4 (1916): 161–74; Noel Valois, “Essai de restitution d’anciennes annales avignonnaises,” Annuaire-Bulletin de la Société de l’Histoire de France 39 (1902): 161–86; Robert Brun, “Annales avignonnaises de 1382 à 1410 extraites des Archives de Datini,” Memoires de l’Institut Historique de Provence 12 (1935): 17–142; 13 (1936): 58–105; 14 (1937): 5–57; 15 (1938): 21–52 and 154–92. Certain registers of the Archives communales d’Avignon retain some information. See ADV, archives communales d’Avignon, serie EE. Pierre Pansier’s remains one of the most detailed studies. See Pierre Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon sous le pontificat de Benoît XIII,” Annales d’Avignon et du Comtat Venaissin 9 (1923): 5–186. See also Germain Butaud, “Les deux sièges du palais apostolique d’Avignon (1398–1411),” in Villes en guerre: Actes du colloque tenu à l’Université de Provence: Aix-en-Provence, 8–9 juin 2006, ed. Christiane Raynaud (Aix-en-Provence: Publications de l’Université de Provence, 2008), 103–126, which adds little to the historiography.

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336 l avignon during the schism but the cardinals’ “clusters” and their chains hampered traffic.233 Thus, it must have been with some pleasure that the citizens, even if they sided with the cardinals, bound the palace and its residents with the same physical trappings. A chain-locked security perimeter was established, guarded by men of the cardinals and citizens; and according to Alpartil, neither the pope nor his people could obtain food or anything without the guards’ authorization. They isolated the pope and his supporters and controlled all means of communication with them.234 Alpartil focuses at length on these “cancels” (cancellos) – their keys (claves cancellorum) and guards (cancellorum custodibus) – in his chronicle. They became the focal point of who could or could not communicate with the pope (to visit and feed him) and his imprisoned court. They symbolized utter control over his person. He could not negotiate and survive without authorization from the holders of these keys: cardinals and Avignon citizens. After a failed attempt at dislodging him by force, Benedict was kept prisoner in his fortress until his escape on March 12, 1403.235 Avignon and the cardinals restored their obedience by the end of March, and France in May. The first act to end the Subtraction after the approval of the 1403 treaty was to remove barricades and chains from the streets that led to the palace, proof that it was regaining its centrality.236 However, the Subtraction resonated further afield and suggested radical changes to the Church. During the Subtraction, the cardinals in search of an institutional response to this extraordinary event deployed in Avignon the procedures of the sede vacante, regardless of the presence of a living, still ruling, pope.237 This was the only procedure that would grant them the freedom to act independently from both pope and king.238 These multiple layers of power plays influenced local politics. Frustration reached its peak, with local Florentine merchants uttering words such as “look at the madness of this 233

See Rollo-Koster, Avignon and Its Papacy, 179–82, 185, 207, 228. See De Alpartil, Cronica actitatorum temporibus Benedicti XIII Pape, 69, 78, 95–100, 101–2, 104–6, 110, 112, 115–16, 123, 126, 130, 132–34. 235 See De Alpartil, Cronica actitatorum temporibus Benedicti XIII, 130–35, regarding the escape and following weeks. 236 Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 26. 237 See Joëlle Rollo-Koster, “Castrum Doloris: Rites of Vacant See and the Living Dead Pope in Schismatic Avignon,” in Medieval and Early Modern Ritual: Formalized Behavior in Europe, China and Japan, ed. Joëlle Rollo-Koster (Leiden: Brill Academic, 2002), 245–77; and “Ritual, Liturgy and Political Legitimization in Schismatic Avignon,” in Procession Performance, Liturgy and Ritual: Essays in Honor of Bryan R. Gillingham, ed. Nancy Van Deusen (Ottawa: Institute for Medieval Music Publications, 2007), 119–36. 238 As I stated in Rollo-Koster, “The Politics of Body Parts,” 72: 234

As the cardinals struggled with the pugnacious Benedict, who even though confined and isolated in his palace refused to give in to their pressure, they also confronted the emergence of a French national church, headed by the king and the assembly of the French clergy (dominated by archbishops and bishops). A new force slipped into the power vacuum created by the subtraction. While the subtraction lasted, the cardinals and the Gallican church each attempted separately to implement changes in ecclesiastical government. Victory over the field of subtraction would permit either the Gallican church or the College of Cardinals to monopolize papal prerogatives – namely, appointments to French ecclesiastical benefices and the collection of revenues from the French clergy. See Kaminsky, “The Politics,” 373–97, for a discussion of the logic behind Gallicalism.

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The First French Subtraction of Obedience k 337 Catalan who insists on being pope by force and against the entire world! May his birth be damned because it is ruining the world!” and “the rumor mill is going on so well against this pope that the cardinals do not want to pardon him. He must either remain prisoner until things clear or he must be burned as a heretic.”239 Hence, justice could become expeditive. In 1401, when a new assessor seemed too pro-Benedict, he was accused of treason, quartered, and dismembered; his limbs hung on the gates of the city for months.240 Peace tentatively returned to the city when Benedict escaped the palace during the night of March 11–12, 1403. Florentine merchants describe this evasion with a simple “he [the pope] went out.”241 A treaty was signed between the pope, cardinals, and Avignonese at Châteaurenard on March 29, 1403. Avignonese officials proposed a long list of demands. They requested absolution for detentions and incarcerations of the pope’s backers for crimes of lese-majesty, murders, duels, and other injuries done during the Subtraction against persons of the papal court; their involvement in the nomination of the town’s officers; protection from kings, princes, and other dignitaries; and the return of the gabelles taxes to the city – in order to fund its defense and repair the city’s infrastructure, especially the area around the Preachers’ convent. Benedict reduced the list to complete amnesty for the citizens and status quo on the rights and privileges of the city.242 The pope never returned to his palace despite the Avignonese celebrations of his “liberation” with bonfires and to cries of “Viva papa Beneseg” (long live pope Benedict), along with the destruction of the barricades that surrounded the palace.243 Benedict sensed his precarious position. Resentment against his stubbornness could take insidious form. Michel Pintoin, the chronicler of St. Denis, recalls that shortly after Benedict’s escape, in the week following Easter 1403, French enemies of Benedict, certainly from the entourage of the Duke of Berry, entered various conventual, monastic, and collegial chapels. In full view of all, they removed the tables of computation traditionally tied to the Easter candle. They pretended to do so under royal mandate. Incensed clergymen realized that the tables mentioned the name and ninth year of Benedict’s pontifical rule, something that staunch participants of the subtraction could not bear to see.244 In my 2003 “The Politics of Body Parts,” I highlighted the Subtraction’s impact on the city. It was notable. Old central Avignon was forsaken for the newly developed southern zone.245 The convents of St. Martial and Célestins, located directly to the south of the

Brun, “Annales avignonnaises,” 50. His name was François de Cario, this is the topic of my “The Politics of Body Parts.” 241 Brun, “Annales avignonnaises,” 44–45. 242 Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 119–22, lists the Avignonese’s demands. 243 Bertrand Boysset offers details on the evasion. See Dalché, Bonnet, and Rigaud, Bertrand Boysset, 124–27. See also Pierre Pansier, “L’évasion de Benoît XIII du palais d’Avignon (11 mars 1403),” Annales d’ Avignon et du Comtat Venaissin 18 (1932): 41–49. 244 Computation tables were used for the divine service. See RSD, 3: 78–81. The Easter candle had grown quite large during the Middle Ages, and it was customary to add annotations on, or attached to it; these mentioned the cycles of the moon, dates of Easter Sunday, dates used for calculating Easter, dates of the ruling pontiff, dates and ages of ruling kings. See Du Cange, Cera Paschalis ad faciendum cereum de Pascha, http://ducange.enc.sorbonne.fr/CEREUS (accessed on February 16, 2021). It seems that Benedict’s name and ruling dates were affixed on certain candles and stood in various French Churches. 245 See Rollo-Koster, “The Politics of Body Parts,” 79–98. 239

240

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338 l avignon during the schism palace, outside the old twelfth-century walls, defined spatially at the time of their foundation (by Clement VII) the legitimacy of schismatic Avignon. They also anchored the legitimacy of the Subtraction of Obedience while it lasted. Architectural space performed and was indeed politicized.246 It is left to investigate if the second subtraction reinforced the city’s new symbolic topography mapped by the first.

The Second French Subtraction of Obedience (1408–1411) he second French Subtraction of Obedience was initiated in May 1408. It was ultimately the consequence of a fourth assembly of Paris (of the French clergy) held during the winter 1406–1407, which again responded to frustration over Benedict’s equivocations – he promised to abdicate for “union” but never did. In the council’s aftermath, a large French embassy met both popes to discuss their eventual meeting in order to solve the Schism. Benedict traveled through southern France and Italy attempting to meet his Italian homologue in Savona (1407), but even though close to each other, both popes never met and eventually scrambled their effort. The murder of Louis of Orléans on November 23, 1407, on the order of the duke of Burgundy dramatically altered Benedict’s future. His foremost defender gone, Benedict was left vulnerable at the French court. On January 12, 1408, Charles VI’s King Council issued an ultimatum. If the Church did not have a single pope by May 24, 1408, France would remain neutral between both popes.247 Benedict received the news in midApril.248 On the 18th, he responded in kind, menacing the king with unpublished bulls of excommunication (dated May 19, 1407) that fustigated anyone preaching a subtraction

T

246

Since my 2003 conclusions, the historiography has focused on these developments in the southern section of Avignon, without really challenging my assumptions – there was indeed an architectural movement from center to the southern periphery to legitimize the Clementist obedience and to challenge the pope’s physical and political presence in his Avignonese fortress. See Christine Tauber, “Homo novus zwischen König und Kurie: Das Grabmal des Kardinals Jean de la Grange als legitimatorische Autobiographie post mortem,” in Das Grabmal des Günstlings. Studien zur Memorialkultur frühneuzeitlicher Favoriten, ed. Arne Karsten (Berlin: Gebrüder Mann 2011), 21–41; Elizabeth Monti, “Locating Legitimacy: The Great Schism and Architectural Patronage in Avignon,” in Locating the Middle Ages: The Spaces and Places of Medieval Culture, ed. Julian Weiss and Sarah Salih (London: Centre for Late Antique & Medieval Studies, 2012), 123–35; Christian Freigang, “Päpstliche Hofkunst in Avignon in der Zeit des Schismas,” in Vom Weichen über den Schönen Stil zur Ars Nova: Neue Beiträge zur europäischen Kunst zwischen 1350 und 1470, ed. Jiří Fajt and Markus Hörsch (Vienna: Böhlau, 2019), 89–96; Alexandra Gajewski, “Art and Architecture in Avignon during the Great Schism: Remarks on Clement’s VII Foundations of Saint-Martial and Saint-Pierre-Célestin,” in Vom Weichen über den Schönen Stil zur Ars Nova: Neue Beiträge zur europäischen Kunst zwischen 1350 und 1470, ed. Jiří Fajt and Markus Hörsch (Vienna: Böhlau, 2019), 97–116; Julian Gardner, “Jean de la Grange, Schismatic Cardinals and Avignonese Tomb Sculpture,” in Vom Weichen über den Schönen Stil zur Ars Nova: Neue Beiträge zur europäischen Kunst zwischen 1350 und 1470, ed. Jiří Fajt and Markus Hörsch (Vienna: Böhlau, 2019), 117–28. For the use of Saint Martial to legitimize the Avignon papacy, see Amanda Luyster, “Christ’s Golden Voice: The Chapels of St. Martial and St. John in the Palace of the Popes, Avignon,” Word & Image 27, no. 3 (2011): 334–46. 247 Valois, La France, 3: 597. 248 Valois, La France, 3: 605.

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The Second French Subtraction of Obedience k 339 of obedience.249 In response, the king published a year-old decree (dated February 18, 1407) that restored its liberty to the French church. This meant that Benedict was left with no income from France – apostolic taxes were abolished. The University of Paris offered the coup de grâce through the mouth of Jean Courtecuisse, eminent orator and professor of theology. On May 21, 1408, in front of a large attendance, he argued that Benedict’s bull attacked the king’s authority and dignity, and he denounced the pope as schismatic and heretic. Charles VI approved the discourse and “the royal secretaries showed them [the bulls, obviously more than one copy] to the assembly, unfolded them, and after cutting them with the tip of their knives, threw them to the rector, who shredded them in a thousand pieces.”250 If we consider the performative quality of bulls that I discussed in Chapter 2, the gesture was a meaningful affront. According to Michel Pintoin, the religieux of St. Denis, French neutrality was officially declared on May 22 at Saint-Martin-desChamps, by a mendicant doctor in theology named Pierre-aux-Boeufs, in a voice “high and intelligible” – note the emphasis on aurality.251 Cardinals from both obediences then agreed to meet in council, eventually designated to take place in Pisa, while Benedict eventually called his own council in Perpignan (November 1408–February 1409), which failed to accomplish anything. The pope never abdicated as promised.252 It is the Council of Pisa that deposed both popes at its fifteenth session on June 5, 1409, calling them both, “notorious schismatics and heretics, hardened perjurers, scandals for the Church, incorrigible, rejected by God, excluded from the Church,” they were deprived of all offices and deposed.253 Still, these events did not have an immediate impact on Avignon. The city remained attached to Benedict from the time of his 1403 evasion. Benedict, however, mistrusted Provençaux and Avignon. He traveled throughout the south of France with a large escort, and as seen earlier, he did not free the city from papal authority. Benedict had learned much from the blockade of his palace in 1398. It convinced him to reinforce its defense by first removing nearby dwellings flanking its western side and protecting the cathedral and Petit Palais. Work was accomplished between December 1403 and February 1404.254 It seems that Benedict understood the spatial tug of war that had taken place during the First Subtraction. If the palace had been quarantined between 1398 and 1403, he reemphasized it by making it more imposing, a true fortress. This time it was not enemy forces that isolated the palace but the pope himself, who ordered its “removal” or separation from the city.

249

Valois, La France, 3: 606–7; RSD, 2: Livre XXIX, Tome IV, Chapitre II, 4–9. Mandell Creighton, A History of the Papacy during the Period of the Reformation: The Great Schism – the Council of Constance, 1378–1418 (London: Longman, Green, & Co., 1882), 193–95. For Jean Courtecuisse’s May 21, 1408, papal rebuttal, see RSD, 2: Livre XXIX, Tome IV, Chapitre IV, 9–15, the quote is at 13–15; and Alfred Coville, “Recherches sur Jean Courtecuisse et ses oeuvres oratoires,” Bibliothèque de l’École des Chartes 65 (1904): 504, who offers all the sources available for this sermon. 251 RSD, 2: Livre XXIX, Tome IV, Chapitre IV, 18–27. 252 Valois, La France, 3: 455–611. 253 Père Jean-Philippe Goudot, “Le concile de Pise (1409): Le souverain et les grands,” Nouvelle revue théologique 132 (2010): 272. 254 Butaud, “Les deux sièges du palais,” 114. Butaud did not use the Vatican archives for his narratives. Still, the Vatican archives keep the name of “Domino Didaco Navarri” as master of the works. See AAV, IE 376, fol. 257 (for 1405). 250

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340 l avignon during the schism He ordered his forces to wall and fortify the area that encompassed the Rocher des Doms, cathedral, Petit Palais, papal palace, and big tower on the bridge (See Map 2). The highest point of the Rocher, the bell tower of the cathedral, was destroyed and replaced with a large tower that now dominated the city (Tour Quiquengrogne).255 With these fortifications, a wall defined and protected the palatial complex. In a much smaller scale, it evoked Rome’s Leonine walls around the Vatican and Borgo. The key element of these fortifications was to preserve access to the Rhône from the palace. The river offered communication and logistic resupply in food and defenses. The palatial area that had been blockaded and marginalized during the first Subtraction was now reimposing itself as the undefeated and impregnable victor, a “dare you to try again” memento to the power of the pope. It is of note that by 1410 Avignon counted three sets of walls, extending from symbolic center to periphery: the smallest one, Benedict’s wall, offset to the north, formed the new nucleus around the Petit Palais-Notre-Dame des Doms-palace perimeter; a larger wall, followed the old twelfth-century walls, which defined the traditional “old” city; and the largest and most recent fourteenth-century walls encircled the extended Avignon of the fourteenth century, with many of the bourgs enclosed within its perimeter (see Map 2). The first Subtraction of obedience, with its concurring siege of the palace, had created an atmosphere of verbal propaganda mixed with political turmoil and deterring violence.256 These very public demonstrations of civic unease and atonement did little to appease tensions in the city. One year later, political scapegoats accused of inciting the city to rebel in favor of the pope were brutally executed, quartered, and dismembered.257 In one aspect, the second subtraction differed dramatically from the first.258 The pope’s physical absence may have altered the dynamics of the event. The palace was again Dalché, Bonnet, and Rigaud, Bertrand Boysset, 126–29; Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 26–29. 256 For example, while the pope was prisoner in his palace, the Avignonese organized dramatic plays in the city, The Trojan War in April 1400, and a Passion play for the three days of Pentecost 1400 (June 7–9). It is of note that the latter was a grand affair meant to comfort inhabitants and maybe simultaneously expose to the pope their dismay. The Passion was in Provençal so all could follow along. It lasted the expected three days, was sumptuous in its decorations, and set up with some 200 actors for an audience of some 10,000 spectators, protected by a guard of 300 men. RolloKoster, “The Politics of Body Parts,” 87. Gustave Cohen, “Mystères religieux et profane en Avignon à la fin du XIVe siècle,” in Bulletin philologique et historique jusqu’en 17I5 du Comité des travaux historiques et scientifiques, 1938–1939 (Paris: Imprimerie nationale, 1940), 89–94. 257 This was the theme of my “The Politics of Body Parts.” 258 There are excellent archival records. See Archives communales d’Avignon, EE 3, which discusses the Catalans’ capitulation and the events of 1410–1411. ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, EE 3, covers the activities of Philippe de Poitiers from June–December 1411. ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, EE5 and 6 are the ledgers for 1411 with expenses incurred and the listing of all the soldiers. ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, EE 7, 8, and 9 are the ledgers of the war treasurers Martin Pamperati and Martin Martini from May 1410 to August 1411. ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, EE 10 are ledgers of war treasurers: Nutinus Jacobi 8/1411–1/1412; Poldo de Passis 12/1411–11/1412, Guillaume de Lucquesio 5/1410–2/1411; Cathalanus de Rocha 3–5/1411-5-11/ 1412. ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, EE 11: Absent Avignonese property owners who need to contribute to war effort. ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, EE 12, 13, 14, 15, various documents receipts of expenses for war effort. ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, EE 16, Catalans’ rendition and evacuation of the palace. 255

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The Second French Subtraction of Obedience k 341 besieged, but in 1410 it was better protected and defended. It was not occupied by a majority of curialists, but properly defended with troops. Most importantly, since no pope resided on the premises, it witnessed a sustained military effort aimed at destroying the very structure the pope had abandoned. Inside the fortifications, Bernard de So, viscount of Evol, and his Catalans headed the defense, with Rodrigo de Luna, the pope’s nephew, named captain of Avignon and rector of the Comtat Venaissin, supported by Aragonese, Navarese, Castilians, and Catalan troops. Martin de Alpartil mentions signs of tension and rivalries among the Spaniards.259 The reluctance to attack the pope physically had quickly stopped military efforts in 1398; this reluctance vanished in 1410 with the pope’s absence. This later military effort has been fodder for military historians. The use of heavy artillery is extremely well-documented for the siege, including multiple mentions of large bombards, and the many repairs and recasting they required, along with the use of various trebuchets and catapults.260 Most interestingly, authors mention “chemical” warfare with the use of boscheretto (an instrument to throw projectiles) to launch as much trash as possible against the enemies.261 Pierre Pansier cites metal pitchers and barrels filled by Jews with fetores (stinking waste) to hurl into the palace.262 Medieval biological warfare shows the military’s familiarity with theories on humors and miasma. But our besiegers went a step further. They also attempted to poison the garrison by launching a concoction of white arsenic, sulfur, and pitch, prepared by Dominic, the bombarderio.263 No one inside the palace touched it. Sources also offer again abundant evidence for a cultural history of a city in crisis. Sources point to the same atmosphere of xenophobia, mistrust, plotting, oratory jousting, and violence that occurred in 1398. But most of all, the second Subtraction allowed Avignon to shine by taking the financial and military leadership of the siege. The June 1409 election of Alexander V in Pisa complicated Provençal affairs. On July 10, 1409, the Pisan pope named Cardinal Pierre de Thury papal legate and vicar general of the Comtat Venaissin with the charge of bringing the Comtat and Avignon under the fold of his obedience, with use of force if necessary. His brother Philippe de Thury, archbishop of Lyon, seconded him. They were supported by various French troops headed by, to only name a few, Randon de Joyeuse; L’Hermite de la Faye, seneschal of Beaucaire; and Régnier Pot, governor of Dauphiné.264 Mistrusting the Avignonese, and realizing that his position was tenuous, Rodrigo de Luna destroyed the locks of the city’s gates so his enemies would not access them.265 The question of who controlled the keys was essential for the city defense. A document dated a year later, December 13, 1410, identifies Johannes Tronchini as key-keeper, with a mandate to hand them over to the city’s consuls at their request. The key-keeper task was simply to De Alpartil, Cronica actitatorum temporibus Benedicti XIII, 213, 221–22; and Butaud, “Les deux sièges du palais apostolique,” 116. 260 See Butaud, “Les deux sièges du palais;” and Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon.” 261 Brun, “Annales avignonnaises de 1382 à 1410,” 191. 262 Antisemitism was rampant and here we can witness Jews’ forced enrollment in a demeaning task, but we can also note that no specific action was taken against Avignon’s Jews during the entire period. Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 45, 87. 263 Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 68. 264 Butaud, “Les deux sièges du palais apostolique,” 116. 265 They were repaired in June 1410. See Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 39. 259

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342 l avignon during the schism open and close the gates and inspect them twice a day; he could not ask anything from their guards; and he needed to signal if any guards went missing. Finally, he could not communicate with the pope.266 To further his defense, Rodrigo finished the fortifications of the palatial compound, and he ordered the expulsion of the monks and canons of Notre-Dame des Doms. By continuing their religious services, they had been allowing people into the church, hence into the walled fortress. Carreri’s chronicle indicates that on December 22, 1409, clergymen were transferred to the Livrée of Poitiers, in front of St. Agricol. The chronicler insists that they “carried out our lady to the Livrée of Poitiers,” signifying that they moved a statue of the Virgin to its new location (portèron Nostra Dama à la livrèya de mons. de Poytiers).267 We can note that at roughly the same time in Rome, while Pisan troops commanded by Louis II of Anjou entered the city, the canons of S. Pietro moved the image of the Veronica to Castel Sant’Angelo and then to the house of a certain Giovanni Oleo.268 It seems that during crises urban communities anthropomorphized their intercessors and moved them out of reach and danger. Similar to their Roman “enemies,” the canons of Notre-Dame wanted to prevent the Virgin from seeing the unseeable or from being “violated” in her own house. Further, to make his intentions absolutely clear, on January 26, 1410, Rodrigo published throughout Avignon a bull of excommunication directed at the cardinals and the members of the University of Paris, labeled as “heretics and schismatics.”269 Rodrigo performed papal authority in his absence. He was hinting to the Avignonese the consequences of their eventual breach of support. Violent semantics were accentuated with physical acts. On Saturday, March 3, 1410, a man was executed on the walls of the Rocher’s fortifications. His body remained there until he was buried the following Sunday in Notre-Dame des Doms. There is a lack of information on this person, but his burial at Notre-Dame suggests that he may have been a cleric.270 A bull of excommunication and a public hanging were signs enough of the risks the Avignoneses were taking if they questioned their allegiance to Benedict. At the exact same moment, the Pisan legate and his troops were reconquering the Comtat. Rodrigo, fortified in the palace, occasionally sallied forth to harass the French assailants. In one early raid in March 1410, he assaulted the French herald who was making announcements on the bridge, beat him, broke his trumpet, shredded his French banner, threw it in the Rhône, and took the man prisoner.271 The gestures clearly indicated what he thought of the French monarchy and its obedience. Still, matters quickly resolved for the Pisan obedience. The Comtat fell in line on April 9, 1410, when Philippe de Thury, archbishop of Lyon (brother of the Pisan legate Pierre), entered the capital of the Comtat Venaissin, Carpentras, with his troops to the cries of “viva our lord Alexander.”272 266

ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, boîte 22, #677. Carreri, “Chronicon parvum avinionense de schismate,” 166. 268 Il diario romano di Antonio di Pietro dello Schiavo: Dal 19 ottobre 1404 al 25 settembre 1417, ed. Francesco Isoldi (Città di Castello: Rerum Italicarum scriptores, 1917), 45. 269 Carreri, “Chronicon parvum avinionense de schismate,” 167. 270 Carreri, “Chronicon parvum avinionense de schismate,” 167. 271 Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 34, 162–63. The herald was announcing the king’s subsidies to the city. 272 Butaud, “Les deux sièges du palais apostolique,” 115. 267

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The Second French Subtraction of Obedience k 343 Avignon followed a few days later, on April 30, 1410, in circumstances that somewhat shocked locals. Francesco di Marco Datini’s correspondents in the city keep returning to that fateful day. Noting repeatedly that the bridge was closed to all communication, but hopeful for a quick resolution, they explain how Rodrigo, wanting to “seal a deal” with the city to hold up as long as possible against the French, invited thirty-six Avignonese notables to dine at his table. Only eleven showed up – the others did not, nervous, and rightly so, of falling into a trap. Rodrigo seized his guests as prisoners and destroyed nearby housing, including two livrées. Avignon mutinied at the act. This initiated the first salvo of the Catalan war. In 1398, cardinals and the city council had elected an “Eight of War” to lead the effort. We can certainly recognize here the influence of Florence’s Otto delle Guerra.273 Tieri di Benci, Datini’s representative in residence, states of the Avignonese decision, “The town and the College elected Eight of War, four Provençaux and four Italians, including two from Piedmont, a Lucchese, and Antonio Alamanni from Florence. We do not think that they will do much since they have way too many chiefs constantly arguing above their heads, because they do not want to spend money.”274 In May 1410, perhaps having learned a lesson from the former siege, the city named “war elects” (electi de guerra), who centralized financial requests to a treasurer.275 They were supported by the traditional city council, syndics, and the assessor.276 All appear at every page of the city’s registers of the period.277 On December 6, 1410, they met in the kitchen of the late cardinal of Naples, Tommaso Ammanati (+1396) who resided in the livrée Saint Pierre. This could be the location of a “war base camp” later described as “domo dicte guerre.”278 Antonio Ratonchini, judge at the temporal court, presided over the meeting that

273

The War of the Eight Saints (1375–1378) opposed Florence and its allies against Pope Gregory XI shortly before the initiation of the Schism. See, among many, Richard C. Trexler, The Spiritual Power: Republican Florence under Interdict (Leiden: Brill, 1974); David S. Peterson, “The War of the Eight Saints in Florentine Memory and Oblivion,” in Society and Individual in Renaissance Florence, ed. William J. Connell (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2002), 173–214; John M. Najemy, A History of Florence 1200–1575 (Oxford: Blackwell, 2006). 274 Brun, “Annales Avignonnaises,” 47. 275 The surviving treasurer’s ledgers list more than one name. See ADV, archives communales d’Avignon, EE7, 8, 9, the ledgers of the war treasurers Martin Pamperati and Martin Martini from May 1410 to August 1411. ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, EE 10, the ledgers of war treasurers: Nutinus Jacobi from August 1411 to January 1412; Poldo de Passis from December 1411 to November 1412; Guillaume de Lucquesio from May 1410 to February 1411; and Cathalanus de la Rocha from March to May 1411 and from May to November 1412. See also, for example, Martin Pamperati’s evaluation of Notre-Dame’s silver tabernacles in Pierre Pansier, “Le trésor de l’église de Notre-Dame des Doms et la guerre des Catalans,” Annales d’Avignon et du Comtat Venaissin (Paris: Champion, 1912), 116–17. The same document (113) names Cathalanus de la Rocha syndic, and Johannes Ralherii and Nerius Buzaffi, magistri guerre. 276 Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 60, 130–31. 277 Especially, ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, EE8 for “war” payments between May 1410 and July 1411. 278 “Acta fuerunt hec Avinione in domo dicte guerre presentibus supradicto Petro Garnerii et magistro Nicolao Boquelli,” ADV, 1G701, also transcribed in Pansier, “Le trésor de l’église de Notre-Dame des Doms et la guerre des Catalans,” 116.

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344 l avignon during the schism comprised syndics, electi de guerra and councilmen of all estates, nobles and bourgeois, citizens, and inhabitants of the city, all in great number.279 In the days following the citizens’ capture, the troops of de Thury arrived and were received with “grand honors, as magnificently as could be, with all the streets covered, as should be.”280 This entry sealed the fate of Avignon to the Pisan side. It is interesting to note that this change of obedience was not the direct result of a calculated choice but rather a response to Rodrigo’s aggression.281 Rodrigo had simply been dishonorable in his acts.282 Contemporaries keep insisting that Rodrigo forced their hands. Rodrigo counted some 400 troops with him, while Avignon and the French troops counted some 4,000. Interestingly enough, while the besieged Spaniards had fought among each other up to now, they showed great cohesion in their resistance, something that contemporaries noted.283 The long siege that lasted some nineteen months had begun – it ended technically when the Catalans left the palace on November 23, 1411. Some of the first acts of the war in spring/summer 1410 were to fully seal the palace, barricading its access from within the city. The Catalans responded with incendiary projectiles and attempted to destroy the bridge.284 They could, it seems, easily bypass the blockade since they frequently attacked the French side of the Rhône.285 Xenophobic taunts accompanied the fight, “You French! Bring water to douse the fire and tell your rabid king and the traitors of Avignon to come extinguish it.”286 Taunts also belong to the performance of war. Regardless of the blockade, the Catalans were able to request aid. Various chroniclers mention conspiracies to sack and destroy the city in support of the Clementist obedience and in retaliation of the Subtraction.287 An anonymous chronicler mentions the June 14, 1410, decapitation and quartering of two men who were accused of wanting to set the city ablaze, starting some eight fires simultaneously. Their execution took place at the Place St. Didier, the location of “justice” at the time, and their quartered parts were exposed on the city’s gates, while their trunks remained at the forchas (the pillory, near the church of St. Pierre).288 “Et primo videlicet nobilis Cathalanus de Rocha, Guillermus de Luquesio, scindici, dominus Anthonius Vironis et ipsorum sindicorum assessor . . . Stephanus Filioli et nonnulli alii tam nobiles et burgenses quam mercatores et ministeriales, in copiosa quantite, quorum nomina et cognomina propter ipsorum multitudinem hic inseri est obmissum.” Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 131. A later record of deliberations still names more or less the same team: “Georgius de Vironibus, Anthonius Vironiis, legum doctor (assessor); Cathalanus de la Rocha, Johannes de Sadone, Guillelmus de Lucca, Nerius Buzzafi, Angelino Bartholomei, omnes con electi de guerra et consiliarii.” ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, E Depot Avignon, CC/1510 (December 1412). 280 Brun, “Annales avignonnaises de 1382 à 1410,” 189. 281 Brun, “Annales avignonnaises de 1382 à 1410,” 185–90. 282 Brun, “Annales avignonnaises de 1382 à 1410,” 189. The correspondent states, “Si son parent [meaning Rodrigo] s’était conduit comme il devait, il aurait fini à son honneur et à celui de la ville tandis que ce sera à son déshonneur et peut-être, finalement, pour sa perte.” 283 Brun, “Annales avignonnaises de 1382 à 1410,” 187. 284 Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 40–41. 285 See, for example, the long complaint of the city of Beaucaire against the Catalans’ depredations in Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 162–68. 286 Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 164–65. 287 Brun, “Annales avignonnaises de 1382 à 1410,” 189, 192. 288 Carreri, “Chronicon parvum avinionense de schismate,” 168. St. Didier was located south of the palace. For a discussion of the parish during the Schism, see Rollo-Koster, “The Politics of Body Parts,” 82, 92, 95. The executioner could bury some of his “bodies” at the cemetery of the 279

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The Second French Subtraction of Obedience k 345 As during the first Subtraction, spectacular acts of deterrence increased, usually located at the Place St. Didier, within the old city walls but as far as possible from the palace, to the south. St. Didier parish actually gained preeminence during the crisis, eclipsing the traditional location of “the law” in the parish of St. Pierre. As in 1398, the southern section of the city outperformed the northern. Traditionally, the Viguerie (the location of the vicariate) and its palace were located above the residence of the Marshall of the Roman Curia, Rue de la Viguerie in St. Pierre. This location also served as meeting point for the city council. Communal registers from 1372 to 1376 show that assemblies met “in the courtyard of the tribunal, where the prisons are.”289 It needed some repairs in 1376 and 1408. But during the Catalan War, it became a fortress for the defense of the city, and the council wandered, meeting in the house of Andrea Rapondi, Place du Change, then in the livrées of Naples and Albane. It remained there until 1415. At that date, the town bought a house on Rue de l’Argenterie, between Rue de l’Anguille and Plan St. Didier, in the parish of St. Didier.290 By then the southern parish had gained enough prominence to offer a distinct communal space, separate from the palace’s area. More worrisome for Avignon was the possibility of reinforcements arriving from Spain. Shortly before the first Subtraction, while Pope Benedict refused to negotiate with the French court, he found allies in his native Aragon. King Martín of Aragon arrived in Provence in March 1397 with seven galleys, anchoring first in Bertrand Boysset’s Arles. Our chronicler describes this Arlesian arrival in detail before moving to Martín’s Avignon visit.291 On April 1, 1397, Benedict sealed his alliance with the king by offering him the Golden Rose, the bejeweled flower that recognized a Catholic ruler of utmost distinction. That specific rose was supposedly worth 4,000 francs, an enormous sum.292 Martín’s support is also highlighted by Benedict’s chronicler, Martin de Alpartil, who reports that Benedict added to the king’s reward precious pieces of the cross.293 In 1410, the arrival of Aragonese or Catalans troops was still feared, and false rumors kept circulating. The expenditures occasioned – sending messengers and troops to Arles and along the Rhône – show how feverish the city remained.294 In May 1411, however, fears became reality when Pope Benedict assembled a “naval expedition” of some twenty-two boats, to rescue his nephew and troops. They arrived at the Rhône delta at the end of the month.295 Bertrand Boysset witnessed the event, and actually left himself a reminder to describe the episode.

executioner, a small corner of the cemetery of the church St. Didier. See Pierre Pansier, Dictionnaire des anciennes rues d’Avignon (Avignon: Roumanille, 1930), 59. 289 Pierre Pansier, “La maison du camérier François de Conzié (1411–1431) et la viguerie d’Avignon,” in Annales d’Avignon et du Comtat venaissin (Avignon: Roumanille, 1913), 251. 290 See Pansier, “La maison du camérier François de Conzié (1411–1431),” 251–54; and Pansier, Dictionnaire des anciennes rues d’Avignon, 252. The two main courts of secular justice had traditionally been located in the parish of St. Pierre. Chiffoleau, Les justices du pape, 71. 291 Dalché, Bonnet, and Rigaud, Bertrand Boysset, 95, 97. See also Ehrle, “Die Chronik des Garoscus de Ulmoisca Veteri und Bertrand Boysset,” 349–50. 292 Dalché, Bonnet, and Rigaud, Bertrand Boysset, 97. See also Ehrle, “Die Chronik des Garoscus de Ulmoisca Veteri und Bertrand Boysset,” 350. 293 De Alpartil, Cronica actitatorum temporibus Benedicti XIII, 25. 294 Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 48. 295 Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 69–73.

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346 l avignon during the schism Note the Catalans. In June 1411, on the order of antipope Pedro de Luna, the Catalans arrived in Provence up to Arles, to attack Avignon and the Comtat Venaissin. They landed and rode toward the Venaissin. But they were taken and trounced by the Provençaux. Those who had remained on board the twenty-two boats tacked up-river to Arles, aiming for Avignon. But with the chain across the Rhône, they could not, and they left. It is true that some of them died, but they did much damage. They devastated many vineyards, burned several mases and sheds. But they did not do much more, and they left like the bad and vile people they are.296

Before these events, the Provençaux spent most of their energy attacking the Tour du Pont (the Tower of the Bridge was one of the most sensitive points because it overlooked traffic on the Rhône), the cathedral, the Petit Palais, and the arches of the bridge, to no avail. The Catalans defense held and actually managed to preemptively destroy the arches and all types of siege engines that were put in their way, such as the cato magno (chatchâtel), a wooden siege tower covered with fresh oxen hides to protect it from fire.297 The Avignonese sapping of the defensive Tour du Pont eventually bore fruit, and in September 1410 it collapsed. The moment was celebrated with the city paying for “six good and great flags, and new metal [poles] that were put on the bridge the day it was conquered.”298 The surveillance of the bridge remained a priority, as was the defense of the city and of course the siege of the palace, which after several months had yet to deliver. By fall 1410, the Avignonese had gained the bridge and the exterior walls of the palace’s garden, but not the fortress.299 Stoldus de Pazzi, a longtime resident of Avignon of Florentine origin organized the bridge’s defense. Stoldus was a Benedictine “fighting” monk and prior of the monastery of Cathenac. He followed his sister Nona, wife of a renowned and longtime resident moneychanger from Asti, Catalano della Rocca (Cathalanus de Rocha, or de la Rocha), who also participated in various capacities in the government of the city.300 The Avignonese were putting their heart in the defense of their cause, no doubt because some of the city’s eminent citizens were still in the hands of the Catalans. By winter, Avignon feared that France would abandon them. Moreover, Avignon feared for its men, still held hostage in the palace. In December 1410, the fortress’ blockade was starting to show its effects and Pedro de Luna requested help in the form of food for his prisoners. This request was a true crisis of conscience for the city. Agreeing equated with caving in. The council met along with the syndics and the electi de Guerra. Notary and secretary Guillemo Mathei alias Monachi recorded the proceedings. He notes that the syndics and electi received full authority to administer the expenses of the war, and later that a vote regarding the prisoners, done with black and white fava beans, turned negative.301

296

Dalché, Bonnet, and Rigaud, Bertrand Boysset, 156–59. Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 50. 298 September 29, 1410. ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, EE, 697, fol. 114. 299 Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 55. 300 Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 52–53. Chatelanus Johannis de Larocha de Ast appears as a cortisianus in the Liber Divisionis of 1371 and in the list of brothers of Notre Dame la Majour. See Rollo-Koster, The People of Curial Avignon, 278. 301 Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 130–31. Pansier transcribes the document but I was not able to find the document in the archives as cited. 297

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The Second French Subtraction of Obedience k 347 Carreri’s chronicler lets us know that three of the prisoners died in January 1411. All were buried in local cemeteries, suggesting that their bodies were released to their families.302 In December 1410, the papal legate Pierre de Thury died. John XXIII immediately named François de Conzié as his replacement.303 Avignon enthusiastically received the experienced administrator, and especially his plan of storming the palace, which was presented with sacred undertones. The war was now a crusade. In February 1411, John XXIII sent Avignon a “bull of crusade” against “those of the palace”; it was issued publicly at the church and Place St. Didier.304 Avignon had already asserted its right of a crusade against its enemies a few weeks earlier in a letter that requested help from neighboring Carpentras. On the last day of January 1411, authorities harangued propter crusatam seu cruce signatam against “schismatics and enemies of the Church of God . . . for the honor of our pope and the union of the holy Church . . . for the eternal salvation of the soul . . . against infidel pagans” with the concession of full remission of sins.305 There had been crusades against Muslims, heretics, and pagans; now there was a crusade against the troops of a recalcitrant pope. Avignon and France were naturally claiming the high ground – to force union of the Church – but it also served earthlier purposes. It allowed the city to control its political destiny, a goal cherished by many other medieval cities. Amid its own political turmoil, Rome attempted the same objective at the exact same time. In Avignon and in Rome, the Schism allowed hope for political independence, and especially for a relaxation of the popes’ control over their cities. Avignon did not have banderesi, but the war against Benedict XIII’s Catalans allowed the city to organize itself for a period of exceptional governance. The group of urban patricians who directed the “war council” made ideal interlocutors with other authorities and facilitated the logistics of war. Even the king of France, Charles VI, dealt with them directly. In May 1411, he allowed “syndics and inhabitants” to extend chains across the Rhône to stop an eventual reinforcement of the Catalans from the river – the permission included other French locations. He further allowed them, on the same date, to levy a tithe on the French clergy, limited to 10,000 livres, to sustain the war effort against the Catalans and recover the church’s patrimony.306 These were extraordinary grants. The symbolism of a king addressing Avignon officials directly may have been more important than the reality of his financial aid. Because, in fact, we know that the aid was slow to come, if not nonexistent.307

Carreri, “Chronicon parvum avinionense de schismate,” 168. We have already encountered him in Chapter 5. He had a remarkable career: Clement VII named him his camerlengo and vice-chancellor in 1383, archbishop of Arles in 1388, Toulouse in 1390, and Narbonne in 1391; John XXIII made him his camerlengo and legate. See Léonce Celie, “Sur quelques opuscules du camerlingue François de Conziè,” Mélanges d’archéologie et d’histoire 26 (1906): 91–108; and Hélène Millet, “Un archevêque de Narbonne grand officier de l’Église: François de Conzié (1347–1431),” in L’archevêché de Narbonne au Moyen Age, ed. Michelle Fournié and Daniel Le Blévec (Toulouse: Méridiennes, 2008), 217–43. 304 Carreri, “Chronicon parvum avinionense de schismate,” 168. 305 Joseph Fornery, Histoire du Comté Venaissin et de la ville d’Avignon (Avignon: F. Seguin, 1909), 1: 476–77. 306 ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, boîte 39, #1293, 1294, 1295. 307 See Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 89–92, for the financial tergiversations. 302 303

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348 l avignon during the schism At every step of the war, the king “deferred” to the town – and not to John XXIII’s camerlengo François de Conzié. He asked Avignon to accept mercenary captains such as Bernardon de Serres and Philippe de Poitiers, the king’s chamberlain and brother of the bishop of Valence Jean de Poitier, rector of the Comtat.308 When in January 1412, shortly after the war ended, Avignon needed repairs, the king asked the camerlengo to dedicate to that purpose 20,000 livres from French tithes.309 The king further sent 12,000 silver francs to the camerlengo in order to repair the palace; he let the syndics know the financial steps he had taken.310 In January 1411, the Avignonese decided on a direct assault of the fortress and the Rocher. The failing of their heavy artillery emboldened them to attempt a physical charge against the enemy.311 The local carpenter Jacquet Barri built a water siege tower on the Rhône, while other carpenters put together a large ladder.312 The assault emptied the city’s coffers. Early in the siege, inhabitants had been taxed with a forced loan that would eventually be reimbursed on the gabelles taxes. It was insufficient. As we have seen earlier, the king of France promised help, but funds were insufficient and slow to arrive. The continuation of the war effort ended up affecting everyone financially. The legate and papal camerlengo François de Conzié offered his silverware, and confraternities their valuables, including tabernacles, basins, crosses, and images.313 They were pawned to wealthy merchants in the hope of being eventually retrieved. The war effort, however, got more intimate as time went, and linked and engaged most of the city’s inhabitants with the reconquest of the palace. Archive registers log scores of individuals who lent to the city war’s effort.314 The loans were eventually reimbursed from the city’s gabelles. The lists comprise men and women, merchants, and widows, of all walks of life. The spice-merchant Rostaing Veneri lent 112 gold fl. on July 31, 1411. In December 1412, the city reimbursed Philippa de Moigin, dame of Vercoiran in the diocese of Gap, the 587 fl. she had lent. She is named tutrix and curator of her son, and heir of noble Girard Adhemard, late professor of law. The example is notable because it shows that anyone could lend funds – even women. In July 1413, the city reimbursed an obligation of some 790 fl. to Marguerite, wife of the wood merchant, Guillaume Nigri.315 We have to assume that 308

ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, boîte 39, #1302, 1303, 1304. ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, boîte 39, #1319. 310 ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, boîte 39, #1318. 311 On the return to Aix of the large bombard, see Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 124–28. 312 Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 58–59. 313 Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 59–60; and ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, E Depot Avignon, CC/1510: On January 19 and 30, 1411, the city borrowed the silverware of the confraternity of butchers that had been deposited with the canons of the Church St. Agricol. On January 27, 1411, city officials requested from the confraternity of St. Julian silverware that was located in the Church of the Carmes. In February 1411, the city signed an obligation toward the convent of Célestins for their jewelry – delivered to the town at a weight of 18 marcs and 6 ounces. On July 31, 1411, the city signed an obligation of 200 fl. toward the chapter of St. Didier. ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, boîte 39, #1315, the chapter of Notre-Dame des Doms lends the city 299 silver marcs. 314 ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, boîte 39, #1316, several of the city’s merchants lend 160 fl. 315 “Philippa de Mongis, relicte nobilis et potestate viri domini Girardi Adhemari quondam dominus de Couraignano, curatrici, rectorici, et gubernatrici, curatorio et rectorio nomine nobilis Raymondi Bernardi Flamingi filii et heredis quondam domini Raymundi Bernardi.” All examples are found in ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, E Depot Avignon, CC/1510. Organized by dates. 309

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The Second French Subtraction of Obedience k 349 financial involvement somewhat steeled resolve, as it made Avignon citizenship’s war effort certainly financially painful but also personal. It seems, however, that those who could afford to chose to leave the city for better pasture. An Avignon vicar sent envoys (a notary and a courier) throughout France and Provence reminding everyone, “Christians or Jews of whatever conditions,” that they had eight days to return to the city.316 To halt this exodus in its track, and extend its reach even further, the war treasurer completed a list of property owners who were absent from the city at the time but still rented tenements in Avignon. The list offers the name of the missing (in action, it seems) but identifies their tenants with the date and amount due. The system was simple. Instead of paying their landlords, tenants now paid the war treasurer directly while their landlords received nothing. This co-optation would assure a steady flow of revenue.317 Even if only a small section of Avignon’s population fought directly, the rest was willing to involve their fortune in the siege.318 And this made for an engaged, active citizenry. As such, the entire city could claim a role in the reunification of the church, via the conquest of one of the popes’ fortress. City officials recorded with precision the location and role of its troops – after all, it was paying their fees and for their somewhat comfortable treatment.319 The city provided its mercenaries with a Jewish doctor and a barber, showing a high level of care.320 Several waves of assaults were necessary. Avignon furnished its men “bread, wine, and jam,” and encouraged them with five trumpets borrowed from the Comtat Venaissin.321 The population supported the growing indebtedness of these soldiers of fortune. Barbers, furbishers, shoemakers, and most of all innkeepers sustained these troops with delayed expenses. They eventually turned to city officials to claim their reimbursements.322 Avignon showed its control of the situation by punishing publicly and exemplarily, individuals caught in the act of helping the enemy. As with the quartering and dismemberment of François de Cario in 1401 during the first Subtraction, Avignon performed authority through public executions. On February 16, 1411, a man from Robion (a small village between Cavaillon and Oppède) was decapitated at the Place St. Didier for bringing foodstuff into the palace. On the same day and at the same location, the city burned a boat (ung navire) to show the Catalans that they could neither escape nor resupply themselves.323 On the 21st, they decapitated two brothers, men of war – it is noted, one legitimate the

316

May 25, 1411, ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, EE 637, fol. 244, transcribed partially in Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 84. 317 ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, E Depot Avignon, EE 11. The register starts with a long list of “institutional” absentees, priors of the various ecclesiastical establishments of the city. Then follows a long list of individuals, many nobles, and their tenants, with the locations and dates of their rents. 318 Most fighters were mercenaries. For their description, see ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon EE 5, fols. 1–7. 319 Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 134–36, transcribes the document. 320 Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 62, 65–66. 321 Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 66. 322 Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 83. 323 Benedict’s troops were in fact able to exit the fortress and look for support on the other side of the Rhône. They would return by boat and enter the fortress via a postern at the bottom of the Rocher. Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 66.

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350 l avignon during the schism other not – for also attempting to resupply the troops in the palace. Their heads were left in front of the Rocher, facing the Hospital Fenoulhet.324 This orientation showed “infamy” since the heads basically “backed” the main orientation of the palace.325 A few months later, on August 21, the city decapitated a priest (capellan) who publicly supported the war against Avignon. His head was exposed at the Place St. Didier, and his “quarters” (quartiers) hanged at the gates.326 It is regrettable that the chronicler mentions this execution without any further discussion. Still, this secular involvement into clerical justice was quite remarkable. Medieval justice differentiated between lay and secular justice. The only feasible option for secular justice to condemn a priest would have been to have religious justice (the inquisition) declare him a heretic and then hand him over to the secular arm of justice.327 Avignonese authorities were taking sizable liberties in making themselves inquisitors and executors. The arrest in France in June 1411 of Esmenart Margarit, a Catalan caught negotiating alliances for Benedict, bears testimony to the fluidity of the situation – and somewhat rationalizes this sudden multiplication of executions and changes of regulations. Margarit was at the pay of Antoine Vincent, governor of the castle of Oppède, which had remained in Benedict’s hand and served as a center of operation for Catalan support. Tortured and interrogated over several sessions, Margarit left a detailed testimony of his months of traveling in search of assistance for the deposed pope. While the king forbade everyone to support Benedict, Margarit used money as his bargaining chip.328 He was never far from buying decisive support.329 His interrogation shows how tenuous most alliances remained, mostly in the hand of the highest bidder. Margarit was executed on September 21, 1411, again at the Place St. Didier. His head – transported by the executioner – and limbs – carried by Leonet Palher, the Jew who had earlier prepared bags of filth for the trebuchets – were exposed at the city’s gates. We do not know how exemplary this decapitation was, but the city records log that the butcher (carnifex) Muscadello was paid for the execution and for carrying his head outside the city.330 In the absence of further records, we can still note the symbolic association of this “traitor” with comestible flesh since a butcher “carved” him. Carreri, “Chronicon parvum avinionense de schismate,” 168. The old Hospital of Notre-Dame de Fenouillet, founded before 1274, was at the end of the Rue Banasterie, facing east, therefore backing the palace’s entrance. On Fenouillet, see Félix Digonnet, Le palais des papes d’Avignon (Avignon: Seguin, 1907), 365; and Paul Achard, Guide du voyageur, ou Dictionnaire historique des rues et des places publiques d’Avignon (Avignon: Seguin aîné, 1857), 21. 326 Carreri, “Chronicon parvum avinionense de schismate,” 168. 327 On Avignon’s various justices, see Jacques Chiffoleau, Les justices du pape (Paris: Publications de la Sorbonne, 1984). 328 Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 72, 75–82, and see also various “enemies” captures at 144–48. 329 Fernand Benoit, “L’interrogatoire de Margarit: Document inédit sur Benoit XIII (1410–1411) et supplément à l’inventaire du fonds des notaires d’ Orange conservé à la bibliothèque du Vatican,” Mélanges d’archéologie et d’histoire, 39 (1921): 267–301, transcribed his deposition. 330 ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, EE, 10 fols. 225, 232, 252: “solutos dicto Muscadello, carnifici, pro executione facta per eum in personam cujusdam Cathalani ex inimicis nuncupati Margarit, suis exhigentibus demeritis decapitati die XXI mensis hujus. Item, plus ab alia parte pro removendo capud ipsuis deffuncti a platea S. Desiderii ubi decapitatus extitit extra civitatem portando, fl. 1.” 324 325

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The Second French Subtraction of Obedience k 351 Both Noël Valois and Franz Ehrle refer to the frustration in Avignon at the length of the siege, and the fear that someone else would take the fortress and release its hostages. Chroniclers employ animalistic metaphor, adding that the Avignonese stated that they would treat the Catalans like animals at the slaughterhouse.331 Moments of crisis such as these unraveled behaviors and the language of humiliation. This was the world of “Carnival and the Lower Body,” that Edward Muir describes so aptly. A world of reversal where men and not beasts were butchered, where victims lost their “masculine identity, and social honor.”332 A form of rebellion also, where a city took unabashedly the right to control the body of its enemies. The siege and political situation were taking such importance that in June 1411, the city’s council felt the need to revamp its electoral procedure. New regulations were approved by François de Conzié, the pope’s legate. Each professional specialty named representatives: nobles and bourgeois who were not merchants named two; notaries and legal doctors, one; moneychangers and silversmiths, one; apothecaries, physicians, wholesalers, and barbers named two; and so on, for all thirteen occupational groups. These representatives drafted new regulations that established a council of forty-two members as the electoral body for three syndics that would replace the previous two. New regulations aimed at preventing nepotism and organized the city’s passive defense – extending the chained barricades that protected streets and neighborhoods. Here we can note that these regulations responded to the political fluidity that must have liberated unhindered favoritism and also centralized the city’s defense in syndics’ hands.333 Most importantly, Avignon officially disenfranchised supporters of Benedict’s cause. The new regulations banned anyone present and future who in any way had been supporting Benedict since 1410 to ever be eligible to seat at the council. The prohibition extended to their descendants.334 The Schism, however, further affected civic governance. Since its establishment in 1251, the vicar (representative initially of French authorities and then of the pope, after 1348) had decided on the council membership.335 In the early fourteenth century, knights, burgensis (wealthy bourgeois), and lawyers (jurisperitii) held the position of syndics, named by the council of thirty-two composed of the same social categories (nine knights, nine lawyers, and fourteen bourgeois). By 1358, syndics were limited to two, a knight and a bourgeois, and the vicar added an assessor – who needed to be of the legal profession. In total, nobles and bourgeois held the lion’s share of governance. The 1411 regulations upset this 100-years-old governance. A democratic breath blew on the council, with most of the city’s occupational categories allowed to name representatives who elected the syndics.336 We also note a certain Italianization of the composition of the council during this period.337 The vicar’s “Cives attendunt, et eorum mentes disposite sunt dictos Cathalanos tractare sicut tractantur animalia in macello.” Valois, La France, 4: 169; and Ehrle, Martin de Alpartils, 573. 332 Edward Muir, Ritual in Early Modern Europe (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 107. 333 ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, boîte 7, #33. 334 ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, boîte 7, #33. 335 Léon-Honoré Labande, Avignon au xve siècle: Légation de Charles de Bourbon et du cardinal Julien de la Rovère (Monaco: Imprimerie de Monaco, 1920), 26. 336 Labande, Avignon au xve siècle, 22–23. 337 We find in the archives recurring mentions of certain Italians involved in the city’s affairs, such as Cathalanus de la Rocha, Guillemus de lucca, Giovanni de Cario, and Nerius Buzzaffi. See ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, E dépôt Avignon, CC/1510 for January 1411 and December 1412. 331

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352 l avignon during the schism nominations lost their weight – he was left naming only fourteen members who needed to be approved by the rest of the council. The war effort had freed the council from external interference and leveled social stratification. This revolutionary change had a doomed history, mainly because the classes of nobles (knights, milites) and bourgeois melded into one, and the distinction between both became difficult to apprehend. Councilors held their positions for life, which ended up favoring the wealthiest. In addition, immigration changed political structures. Fifteenth-century councils held Italians and natives in high regard in recognition of their contributions to the political life of the city.338 Knights disappeared from the social stratification and were replaced by domicelli (damoiseaux, squires) issued from the urban mercantile patriciate, of either Provençal or Ultramontane origins.339 Still, 1411 had not been for naught. In 1437, the Avignon council still counted twenty-eight representatives from the seven parishes titled “extraordinary councilmen;” there were fifty-six in 1451.340 After countless attempts, it became clear that the fortress held its reputation – it was indeed impregnable, and the authorities decided that a total blockade would win them the war. Charles VI also decided to send his chamberlain, a respectable warrior, Philippe de Poitiers to the rescue. The new captain general of war received a salary of 375 fl. for himself and ten lances.341 But the move offended the Avignonese who, as such, were losing control of their leadership. A letter of Jean de Poitiers to his brother Philippe shows that the latter was upset at the lack of regard coming from the Avignonese – meaning that they had not paid him his fee.342 Meanwhile, Benedict’s agents in Avignon were letting him know that the Catalans were willing to surrender to Louis II of Anjou, something that the Avignonese rejected. Worst of all, the French wanted to negotiate directly with Rodrigo de Luna, whom, it seems, they respected.343 In the end, the Catalans agreed to negotiate their surrender. They did so with the papal legate Jean de Poitiers, François de Conzié, and two of Avignon’s electos de guerra. Avignon had the satisfaction of being fully involved in the pourparlers. The besieged had fifty days to receive help from Benedict and they would be fed during this lapse of time – they received five sheep and eight barrels of old wine daily, and fish or eggs on fasting days. If after fifty days no support arrived to free them, they had to evacuate the palace.344 No help arrived. The Catalans left the palace on November 23, 1411. The majority of the troops slightly delayed their departure hoping to swipe as many goods as they could – something their capitulation prohibited. They also asked to leave in

See Barthélemy, “Le régime municipal d’Avignon,” 257–66; and Rollo-Koster, “Mercator Florentinensis and Others,” 73–100. 339 Labande, Avignon au xve siècle, 23–28. 340 Labande, Avignon au xve siècle, 29. 341 Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 86–87, 170–71. 342 Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 92; and ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, EE 351. 343 Ehrle, Martin de Alpartils, 573. Avignon wanted the Catalans to repair all the damages they had caused and pay a ransom. 344 Valois, “Essai de restitution d’anciennes annales avignonnaises,” 178. Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 151–61, transcribes the document. The original can be found in ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, boîte 39, #1317. 338

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The Second French Subtraction of Obedience k 353 full daylight, banners flying high and trumpets blaring – as if victorious.345 This incensed the Avignonese who surrounded them as they were packing their boats to the cries of “they will never leave, these damned Catalans! Let them leave with God’s malediction!”346 The Catalans quickly made their way to Villeneuve.347 Rodrigo de Luna waited until the French seneschal arrived to surrender the keys of the palace and exited with some fifty remaining troops, at night, and in great fear, according to Avignon officials.348 The keys of the palace returned to the pope’s vicar, who ordered the flying of the pope’s and Avignon’s colors. For Avignon, the most significant moment of this surrender was what the inhabitants did after the Catalans left. They leveled to the ground “the new walls, and the tower named Quiquengrogne, and all the other walls that were on the Rocher des Doms, so much so that they flattened everything.”349 The act was of course forbidden and caused the ire of papal and French authorities. These walls in fact reinforced the palace and greatly improved its defense, something that François de Conzié wanted to preserve. The papal legate excommunicated the city officials in retribution.350 Avignon eventually sent a long letter to the pope, begging pardon and explained that these ramparts had protected evil, caused much damage to their city, and hampered the “liberties and privileges” of the city in a section of the walls that had always been communal and separate from papal property.351 It is evident that the Avignonese acted in anger. But buried in these explanations is another one. They destroyed these walls because during a moment that could be qualified as liminal, while the keys of the palace were changing hands, the Avignonese seized the opportunity to reclaim some of their communal independence against popes and French authorities. As with Rome and Castel Sant’Angelo, communal identity rested on its own space and architecture. Something could be taken and change hands – space on the Rocher, an ancient mausoleum such as Castel Sant’Angelo, but layers of history gave these spaces civic memory. John XXIII eventually pardoned Avignon in an April 1412 bull.352 On May 18, 1412, the pope’s camerlengo, vicar of the city, published the bull of absolution. The bull lists all the members of the city council, including syndics and assessor, details the destructions, and vouches for the veracity of this absolution with the quality of the seals attached to the decree (quam per suas litteras apostolicas eius vera bulla plumbea cum cordello canopis more romana curie). Note the reference to the possibility of a fake. He ordered the display of the bull with its seals (mandabat quos ibidem exhibuimus), and commissioned a

345

The description of their evacuation is found in a letter the Avignonese addressed to John XXIII, transcribed by Pansier in “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 175: “prout jam disposuerant, omnes palaci exire et recedere clara die, vexillis extentis, et tubis canentibus, sicut qui victoriam de inimicis reportavit.” 346 “Nunquam isti maledicti exibunt! Ab hinc exeant in maledictionem dei.” Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 176. 347 Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 100. 348 Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 177. 349 Valois, “Essai de restitution d’anciennes annales avignonnaises,” 178. 350 Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 105–6. 351 “Presertim cum murus ipse contra libertates et privilegia civitatis supra ruppem que est et semper fuit communis, et de libertatibus eiusdem civitatis, et non contiguus, nec de pertinenciis palacii V S. fuerit factus et constructus, et eciam cum bone memorie dominus cardinalis de Thureyo, V. S. legatus.” Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 178. 352 ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, boîte 39 #1286.

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354 l avignon during the schism herald to announce the absolution publicly, loudly and clearly (et de verbo ad verbum in eorum provincia alta et intelligibili voce legi et publicari fermus formam seu tenorem qui sequnturn continentes).353 Aurality legitimized the bull. As long as all heard it, it was legal. Avignon’s claims may have gone further. Philippe de Poitiers, chief of war for France, the Pisan obedience, and supposedly Avignon, in a December 1411 request for damage payments, claimed that on November 23, as he was supervising the evacuation of the palace, he was assaulted by Avignoneses. His injuries were physical and verbal (injurias reales et verbales). He eventually received a 600 francs indemnity, proof that verbal injuries toward a great lord, were as condemnable as physical injuries.354 The end of the war had liberated resentments against the various authorities that had infringed on Avignon communal liberties. In a bit of performative elan, the Avignoneses had seized the moment to display their authority. Gradually, the city rebuilt itself, starting with its sacred monuments. The Chapel Saint Nicolas on the bridge was consecrated in June 1411, and most importantly the bridge was totally repaired in November. In February 1412, Notre-Dame des Doms was reconsecrated and the “image” of Notre-Dame returned to her abode in a grand procession from the livrée de Poitiers to the Rocher, all banners flying.355 Avignon waited until the late 1440s to finish reconstruction of Notre-Dame’s bell tower, financed “internally” by pious donations.356 Still, the Catalan artillery had weakened the city’s buildings and souls. In 1412, during the Christmas sermon at the Friar Minors, a suspicious sound coming from the walls caused general panic and a stampede. Weakened by bombardment, the top of the building had cracked from one side to the next.357 Avignon was left damaged and physically scarred by the War of the Catalans. Even if at various levels, most buildings in the city had been affected. The reconstruction was slow, considering the expenses to be incurred and Avignon’s debt. Avignon had paid for the siege and for anyone involved in the affair, either Provençal, French, Italian, or Spaniard. Avignon sent the pope a detailed record of its expenses on December 11, 1411. Avignon financially supported the Cardinal de Thury, the governor of Dauphiné, the seneschal of Beaucaire, the ambassadors sent to the French court, Count Philippe de Poitiers, all the troops and their captains, its syndics, and elected of war for a total sum of 72,000 fl.358 Using the war treasurers’ archives, Germain Butaud calculates a debt of some 79,043 livres between May 21, 1410 and December 16, 1411. He suggests a total of some 100,000 fl. for the war, with 80,000 fl. for the siege and 20,000 fl. for the war in Provence against Benedict supporters. The papacy offered 10,000 fl., while the rest came from the gabelles taxes and imposed loans (prestancia).359 With the end of the war, the city folded into the Pisan and eventually Constance obedience. It showed its support publicly; one could add that the city “performed” its obedience. According to the Vatican’s registers, in May 1414, a painter drew John XXIII’s

353

ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, EE 16, #34. Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 182–84, transcribes the letter dated May 18, 1413. 355 Valois, “Essai de restitution d’anciennes annales avignonnaises,” 178–79. 356 Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 110. 357 Valois, “Essai de restitution d’anciennes annales avignonnaises,” 180. 358 The document is transcribed in Pansier, “Les sièges du palais d’Avignon,” 171–74. 359 Butaud, “Les deux sièges du palais apostolique,” 123–24. 354

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The Second French Subtraction of Obedience k 355 arms on the main gate of the palace.360 In December 1415, Avignon celebrated with a procession that traveled from Notre-Dame des Doms to the chapel of the Augustin, known as the “capitulation of Narbonne,” when the kings of Aragon, Navarra, and Portugal abandoned Benedict. When Emperor Sigismund visited the city in December 1415, on his way to Perpignan, “for the affairs of the church,” he was received with grand pomp. He entered by night to the light of some fifty torches via the St. Michel Gate (to the south at the opposite of the palace). The canopy carried above his head by the town’s authorities – dressed in scarlet – flew the colors of the emperor, the College, and the city. The emperor lodged at the livrée of Poitiers in St. Agricol. He was fed “sumptuously” by the city – and as the chronicler notes, even though there was no pope. The city also offered him some 2,000 golden francs, we have to assume, an “interested” gift.361 On January 8, to celebrate the total rupture with Benedict’s obedience, Sigismund ordered grand celebrations with a procession running from Notre-Dame to the Franciscans, bonfires, and a ball where he offered diamonds to the ladies. He left for Pont-de-Sorgues on January 16, 1416.362 Avignon grandly celebrated the news of the election of a new pope at Constance in November 1417 – even though, as stated by the anonymous chronicler, it rained hard. According to him, shops closed for the week. The news was widely promulgated by the town crier on November 24, and bonfires were lit. Everyone went to Notre-Dame after supper with trumpets and other instruments, celebrating with music the end of the Schism. On December 2, a procession passed from Notre-Dame to the Franciscans – the damaged church had been reconsecrated in January 1416.363 In 1418, Avignon dispatched its ambassador to hail Martin V, first toward Constance, and then followed him to Genoa.364 As expected of a new pope, Martin granted a few petitions to the Avignonese embassy. For example, Petrus de Thilhio was made a secretary of the pope. Nicolaus Jacometi, the courier who brought to Avignon news of Martin’s election, formally integrated the ranks of papal messenger. Originally from Verdun, he was a resident of Avignon.365 Eventually, the memory of the war receded, but the city’s spirit of combativeness and independence remained. At the death of the old legate, François de Conzié, on December 31, 1431, Avignon resisted Pope Eugenius IV’s nomination of his successor, who united the three positions of bishop, rector, and vicar into a single individual, Marco Condulmer – the pope’s nephew. Avignon appealed to the Council of Basel, which agreed with the city and named a new papal legate, Cardinal Alfonso Carillo (June 22, 1432). He entered Avigon and

360

AAV, IE 377, fol. 69v. These expenses appear in the ledgers of the city. See ADV, Archives communales d’Avignon, CC 56, for the year 1415. 362 Valois, “Essai de restitution d’anciennes annales avignonnaises,” 182–83. 363 Valois, “Essai de restitution d’anciennes annales avignonnaises,” 184–85. 364 Valois, “Essai de restitution d’anciennes annales avignonnaises,” 185–86. 365 The embassy left Avignon on August 1, 1418. It left Constance April 7, 1419. For Petrus de Thilhio, see François-Charles Uginet, Le Liber officialium de Martin V (Rome: Archivio di stato di Roma, 1975), 62. Of the five ambassadors, Antoine Viron remained at Martin’s court. A former professor of law, he received several favors such as his letters of nobility. Marc Dykmans, “D’Avignon à Rome, Martin V et le cortège apostolique,” Bulletin de l’institut historique belge de Rome 43 (1968): 203–309, mentions the nomination of Thomassinus de Narduciis, domicellus of Avignon to the office of honorable squire, along with Petrus Cabassolis (page 93); Nicolaus Jacometi is at pages 115 and 144. 361

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356 l avignon during the schism expelled Condulmer. Avignon accepted Carillo. Eugenius opted to maintain Condulmer and named Cardinal Pierre de Foix new legate with full power to quell resistance and expel Carillo. The city was again besieged for a couple of months and forced to accept Pierre de Foix, who entered Avignon on July 8, 1433.366 This episode sealed the destiny of Avignon for years to come. Avignon retained his legate, and later a vice-legate, until France incorporated the city and Comtat Venaissin, in 1791. To briefly conclude this discussion of two medieval cities in turmoil, it is essential to reemphasize the spatial turn. Attachment to space was foundational to medieval urban identity. And, most of all, space and architecture performed. Certain monuments crystalized resentment against various authorities. Actually, the same monument could stratify layers of contestation. Castel Sant’Angelo in Rome is a fitting example, as is the papal fortress in Avignon, and for a brief period, the Tour Quiquengrogne. And obviously, there were spaces of authority and counter-authority. The laboring class of Avignon citizens, who defined the parish of St. Didier during the Schism attempted to take control of their own communal destiny over the seat of authority in the parish of St. Étienne and its fortress. In Rome, the Trastevere rivaled with the Borgo. But foremost, maybe what the past two chapters have demonstrated is that medieval urban dwellers and citizens had agency against power. Folks were interested in controlling their own destinies. In the end, they may have failed, but they tried. The Schism gave them the opportunity to do so.

366

Noël Valois, La crise religieuse du XVe siècle: Le pape et le concile (1418–1450) (Paris: Picard, 1909), 161–70; F. de Grailly, “Révolte des avignonais et des comtadins contre le pape Eugène IV et leur soumission par le légat Pierre de Foix (1433),” Mémoires de l’acdémie de Vaucluse 16 (1897): 324–43.

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Conclusion

has framed the exploration of the Great Western Schism around the cultural anthropological concept of social drama. Social drama entails conflict, while the various searches for a resolution identify the processual evolution of this conflict toward a solution. Social drama initiates with a breach, sides are taken, actions aimed at negotiating an outcome usually follow, and a solution is eventually found. As we saw, the 1378 double papal election initiated a breach such as the Church had never witnessed in its history. Europe divided itself into obediences, while various proposals aimed at ending the crisis were advanced: war, compromise, discussion, cession and subtraction, and eventually councils. Unity was reclaimed at the end of the last of these councils with the elevation of a single pope. Institutional historians of our modern age have argued that the late Middle Ages saw with the Schism the maturation of a conflict that had simmered over the two centuries that preceded it. Several developments could not run their course without eventually alienating each other: growing centralized papal administration, growing ecclesiastical responsibilities handed to members of the curia, growing administrative importance of the College of Cardinals, and also growing papal primacy. The Church arrived at a moment of its history when long-range movements were bound to come to a head. The Schism was this climax, of opposition between the one and the many. Its contemporaries proposed some drastically transformative if not revolutionary solutions to end it – Haec Sancta and Frequens – to no avail. If only for a brief moment, the Middle Ages were tremendously modern. While church unity was restored with the election of Martin V at the Council of Constance, the institutional crisis between pope and council did not end there and then. Convoked by Martin V, who obliged Constance’s Frequens – the reunion of councils at regular intervals – the Council of Basel came under the leadership of Eugenius IV, Martin’s successor, who attempted to dissolve the council on December 18, 1431. His attempt at adjourning the meeting for lack of attendance and other matters, such as an agreement with the Orthodox Church, was of no avail since the council continued its meetings. Faced with the council’s stubbornness, Eugenius reapproved it in 1433, but alarmed with conciliar theorists’ questioning of papal prerogatives, he eventually dissociated himself from it.

T

HIS STUDY

k 357 https://doi.org/10.1017/9781316717691.009

358 l conclusion In 1437, Eugenius moved his followers from Basel to Ferrara (1438–1439) to discuss reunification with the Greek Orthodox Church. Eugenius moved the council again from Ferrara to Florence (1439–1442), and finally Rome (1442–1447), while Basel’s fathers moved to Lausanne and eventually closed their council. In Basel, feeling threatened with renewed papal plenitudo potestatis, Eugenius’s opponents breached unity again in 1439 and elected a new pope, Felix V, the holy hermit Amadeus VIII Count of Savoy. Ten years later, the latter quickly fell back into the papal fold, ending his schism by recognizing Eugenius’s successor, Nicholas V.1 As Gerald Christianson argues, Schism had broken out again, but in fairness to Basel, one may be permitted two observations. On the one hand, the fathers had the unenviable task of putting conciliar theory into practice when there was but a single, undoubted pope and not the competing rivals of the Great Schism. On the other hand, this assembly might have become the great experiment in conciliar history – a restored papacy and a legitimate council seeking common ground in their search for collegiality and continual renewal. But this was not to be. Instead, without the pope’s cooperation, the fathers dug in to defend Haec sancta and their responsibility both to reform the church and to maintain the rightful place of synodal assemblies that the Constance decree had given them.2

As decades passed, attacks against conciliarism multiplied, emanating from some of the greatest thinkers of their time, including John of Torquemada and Nicholas of Cusa. These attacks culminated in 1460 with Pius II’s execrabilis, which negated appeals to a council without the assent of the pope.3 While the institutional focus has been largely preponderant in narratives of the Schism, the past few chapters have avoided it by addressing the Schism as a social drama. By directing the analysis toward behavior and performances, people rather than institutions took the helm of the narrative. This study has shown that medieval people dealt with and responded to disruptions with performances – in the modern social scientific construct – and spectacles: people, alive or dead but also with kinetic anthropomorphism, objects (the Golden rose or the Apocalypse Tapestry of Angers, for example), spaces (the parish of St. Didier or the Trastevere), architecture (the Tour Quiquengrogne or Castel Sant’ Angelo), what we would consider art (the Veronica, for example), chronicles (Baldana’s and Richenthal’s) all performed. But performance in turn has opened the door to another category of analysis, the senses. Each of the preceding chapters, focused on performance, has ended up at some points discussing the sensorial attached to the institutional. The papal administration acted as a performative agent through the dissemination of bullae that were See the recent discussion by Gerald Christianson, “Introduction: The Conciliar Tradition: Insights for an Ecumenical Dialogue,” in The Church, the Councils, and Reform: The Legacy of the Fifteenth Century, ed. Gerald Christianson, Thomas M. Izbicki, and Christopher M. Bellitto (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 2008), 1–24. 2 Christianson, “Introduction,” 9. 3 See Thomas M. Izbicki, Protector of the Faith: Cardinal Johannes de Turrecremata and the Defense of the Institutional Church (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 1981); and Introducing Nicholas of Cusa: A Guide to a Renaissance Man, ed. Christopher M. Bellitto, Thomas M. Izbicki, and Gerald Christianson (New York: Paulist, 2004). 1

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Conclusion k 359 touched and preserved, for example, as well as though liturgical feasts, and funeral ceremonies, where one could see and smell the sacred. As the papacy asserted its authority and legitimacy through performances that were felt throughout bodies, so did counter-powers, from communal councils in Rome and Avignon, to rival authorities such as King Ladislaus of Naples, amongst many others. Legitimacy was constructed around seeing and hearing, for sure – but the examples presented demonstrate the frequent references to other senses, such as touch, music, or even smell. Things were seen, heard and discussed, touched, and smelled. Legitimacy was understood with one’s entire body, and legitimacy was sensorially embodied. Further, the preceding chapters demonstrate that medieval politics at large were sensorial and embodied.

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Index Acta Sanctorum 328–29 Adventus (Entry) 71, 114, 126, 128, 137, 245, 257, 266, 268, 274, 278, 291, 304–5, 308–10, 316, 321, 323, 344 Aix-en-Provence 41, 297, 312–13, 317, 319, 322–29 Alexander V, Pope 2, 53, 56–59, 114, 117, 210, 276–77, 290, 341–42 Alexander VI, Pope 230, 263 Amadeus, “Green” Count of Savoy 317 Anagni 1, 28, 107, 151–53, 157, 172–73, 295, 304 anathema 2, 72, 85–86, 132, 173 Andrew of Hungary 310 Angers 9, 17, 111, 113, 137–44, 321, 358 Annibaldi (family) 240, 244, 271 antipope 20, 23, 28, 53, 121, 306, 346 appellants 161 Aragon 14, 31, 36, 38, 45–47, 63, 66, 104, 108, 141, 154, 189, 294, 331, 341, 345, 355 Arlberg 131 Arles 141, 198, 254, 261, 283, 294, 312–13, 321, 323, 329, 345, 346 artillery 303, 307, 341, 348, 354 aurality 121, 332–33, 339, 354 Avignon bourgs 299 cardinals’ livrées 301, 308, 335, 342–43, 345, 354–55 Célestins 301, 335, 337 clocktower 307 Commune 11, 296 Dominican Convent (Preachers) 309, 317, 337 Franciscan Convent (friars minor) 89, 318 Notre-Dame des Doms 165, 189, 309, 317, 321, 340, 342, 354–55 Notre-Dame-la-Principale 299, 301 Papal Palace 102, 209, 252, 302, 309, 324, 335, 340 Petit Palais 339, 340, 346 pillory (forchas) 344 Place St. Didier 344, 345, 347, 349–50 Rocher des Doms 340, 342, 348, 350, 353–54 Saint-Agricol 299, 301, 342, 345, 355, 356, 358 Saint-Didier 11, 293, 299, 302 Saint Étienne 11, 293, 299, 303, 315, 356 Saint-Geniès 299, 301–2 Saint-Pierre 299

400 l https://doi.org/10.1017/9781316717691.011

Saint-Symphorien 299, 302 St. Benezet Bridge 47, 295, 304, 306–7, 310, 326, 332–33, 340, 342–44, 346, 354 St. Martial 301, 303, 335, 337 Temporal Court 296, 301, 343 Tour Quiquengrogne 11, 293, 340, 353, 356, 358 Viguerie 345 Babylon of the West 76, 143, 294 Baldacchino 131 balsam 209, 211, 216–18, 100–3, 135, 229 banners 31, 142, 151, 251, 280, 309, 318–19, 323, 342 Bari 1, 26, 38, 100, 135, 151, 153, 155, 320–21 bears 117, 120, 276 Bellemère, Gilles 3, 316 Benedict XIII (Pedro de Luna) 2, 5, 6, 13, 17, 25, 26, 38, 45–51, 54–59, 63, 66, 83, 85–86, 104, 109, 114, 117, 126, 132, 134, 164–72, 176, 180–81, 186, 189–90, 203, 247, 258, 267, 272, 274–75, 294, 301, 328, 331, 333, 335–42, 345–47, 349–55 Bernard of Armagnac 177 Bianchi 287–88 Bible (book) 165, 305–6 Bivium/ia (Y) 143 black 117, 198, 204, 206, 226, 346 boats 153, 345–46, 349, 353 body, corpse (funus, corpus) 5, 10, 98, 193, 195, 197, 200–2, 200–7, 209–11, 213–19, 221, 225–30, 254 Bologna 7, 50, 59–61, 90, 114, 117, 210, 279, 296, 313, 320 bombards 276, 283, 341 Boniface VIII 28, 52, 70–71, 82–83, 130–31, 168, 193, 211, 233, 241, 261, 273 Boniface IX (Pietro Tomacelli) 2, 38, 44, 58–59, 80, 82–84, 86–87, 92, 94, 107, 114, 117–18, 121, 203, 234, 240, 246, 254–55, 265–67, 276, 287, 330–31 Boucicaut (condottiere) 47 Boucicaut (Marshal) 49, 108–9 Boysset, Bertrand 15, 141, 254, 261, 283, 312–13, 327–28, 333, 345 Brandon, Jean 175–76

Index k 401 Budes, Sylvestres 41, 304 bullatores 77, 212–13, 228 Burkhart, Johannes 263 Cabochien revolt 177 Caetani, Onorato 2, 30, 157, 163, 174, 249, 267 camerlengo 2, 29, 33–34, 36, 48, 101–3, 119, 188–89, 194–204, 206, 208–9, 211, 216, 228, 249, 274, 302, 348, 253 candles (tapers, torches) 43, 73, 86, 124, 126, 128, 130–33, 135–36, 167, 203–4, 253, 265, 268, 309, 316, 326, 337, 355 canopy 110, 128, 130–31, 134, 138, 143, 283, 306, 308, 355 capitulation 54, 57, 256, 331, 352, 355 Carnival 245, 266, 270, 272–73, 275, 279, 283, 351 Carpentras 319, 342, 347 catafalque (castrum doloris) 193–94, 196, 200, 204–7 Catalan War 303, 343, 345 Catalans 14, 303, 337, 341, 344–47, 349, 350–54 Catherine of Siena 42, 117, 251 cavalcade 103, 109, 116, 119, 124, 135–36, 198, 242, 252 cedula (electoral) 165–66, 190, 332, 334 ceremonials (ordo, ordines) 10, 12–13, 100–1, 103–4, 187–88, 192, 195–96, 198, 202–4, 207, 209, 212, 216, 224, 229, 242, 253, 263 Charles of Durazzo 41–42, 49, 89, 91, 251, 313, 316–17, 322, 325 Charles of Orléans 176, 177 Charles VI, king of France 36, 46–47, 95, 117, 140, 174, 176, 179, 222, 254, 309–10, 313–14, 325, 338–39, 347, 352 chrism 73, 100–1 Chronique des quatre premiers Valois 5, 24, 319 Clement VI 7, 80, 83, 106, 307 Clement VII (Robert of Geneva) 2, 4–5, 7, 10–11, 13, 17, 24–27, 29, 30, 35–38, 41, 44–45, 70–71, 80, 82–83, 87, 89, 95, 102, 104, 114, 117, 140, 153–55, 157, 164, 166, 187, 189–90, 198, 203, 247–49, 253–54, 293–95, 297, 301–3, 309, 313, 322, 327–28, 338 cloth (fabric) 13, 33, 109, 116, 119, 126, 128, 136, 140, 141, 143, 199, 204, 206, 210, 212, 218–19, 226, 228, 232, 285, 288, 304, 308–9, 326 coat of arms (Arms) 58, 123, 136, 140, 204, 206, 225–26, 228, 269, 272, 277, 280, 304–5, 308–9, 318–19, 355 Col, Gontier 46 College of Cardinals 1–2, 8, 19, 23–27, 37, 54–55, 65, 68, 96, 117, 157, 170, 188, 190, 192–94, 197, 199, 219, 225, 227, 241, 343, 355, 357 Colonna (family) 26, 48–49, 234–35, 240, 244, 257–58, 267–68, 270–72, 276, 284–85, 291

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colors 99, 101, 103, 111, 116, 119, 120, 128, 138, 188, 198–99, 206, 211, 224, 226, 291, 304, 326, 353, 355 comets 283 Como 61 Comtat Venaissin 296–98, 303, 306, 311, 327–28, 341–42, 346, 348–49, 356 conclave 1–2, 26–35, 45, 49, 54, 56, 58–59, 68, 124, 136, 152, 156–57, 165–66, 172, 189–96, 200–4, 229, 268 Condottiere 41, 47, 49, 60, 117, 235, 257–58, 267, 276, 279, 285, 292 confraternities 265, 302, 309, 348 consecration 89, 99–101, 104, 109, 115, 124, 190, 196, 212, 295, 325–26 consistory 43, 91, 303, 316, 318, 324 Constance, Council of 2–3, 8, 10, 17, 55, 61–68, 98–99, 109–10, 114–15, 119–21, 123–28, 131–32, 134–35, 148, 172–74, 177–79, 181–82, 184–85, 220, 281, 285, 291–92, 354–55, 357–58 Constantine 129, 260–61 Conti family 132, 240, 244, 275 Corneto 43, 241, 245, 262 Corpus Christi 119, 124, 135, 279, 291 Corsini, Pietro 25, 248 Courtecuisse, Jean 339 Cronica volgare 256–58 Crusade 60, 89, 252, 296, 317–18, 347 curialists 249, 278, 335, 341 da Barbiano, Alberico 41, 43, 249, 331 da Castiglionchio, Francesco 251 da Giffoni, Leonardo 314 d’Ailly, Pierre 19, 21, 22, 46, 48, 55, 60, 147, 184, 329 da Montone, Braccio 276, 285 da Piacenza, Christoforo 15, 311 de Alpartil, Martin 13, 47, 104, 142, 333–34, 336, 341, 345 de Bernabei, Lazzaro 315 de Blois, Marie 42, 140, 321, 322, 325, 328–29 de Brogny, Jean 96, 114, 116, 121 du Bourg, Thomas 176 de Chauliac, Guy 209–11 de Conzié, François 17, 92, 102, 104, 187–88, 192, 194, 196–202, 204, 207, 209, 228–29, 347–48, 351–53, 355 de Coucy, Enguerrand 320 de Cramaud, Simon 45, 46, 168–69 de Cros, Pierre 2, 17, 25, 29, 33–34, 199, 249, 306, 321 de Ericinio, Adalbertus Ranconis 91 de Foix, Pierre 356 de Grassis, Paris 209–10

402 l index de La Grange, Jean 27, 29, 168, 223, 248 de la Salle, Bernardon 41 de Luna, Rodrigo 341–44, 352–53 de Malatesti, Malatesta 276 de Malestroit, Jean 41 de Marle, George 323, 331 de Mézière, Philippe 16, 87–90, 94 de Monstrelet, Enguerrand 174–75 de Montjoie, Louis 41 de Pazzi, Stoldus 346 de Poitier, Jean 348, 352 de Poitiers, Philippe 14, 348, 352, 354 de Sabran, Delphine 330 Deschamps, Gilles 46 des Ursins, Jean Juvenal 254, 326 de Thury, Philippe 341–42 de Thury, Pierre 341, 347 de Turenne, Raymond 322, 327–28 di Andalò Brancaleone 241 di Benci, Tieri 343 Dietrich of Nieheim 13, 151, 249–50, 254, 272, 278, 314 Dignitas 191, 216, 221–22, 225–26 di Marco Datini, Francesco 57, 264–65, 320, 326, 343 di Matteo, Boninsegna 326–28, 331 di Rienzo, Cola 233–34, 244, 246, 259 diplomas 80–81 diseases 5, 6, 7, 95, 149 di Vico, Francesco 246–47, 249, 252 duels 274, 314–15, 320, 337 du Guesclin, Bertrand 312 Durance 47, 294–95, 304, 306–8, 325 Easton, Adam 90, 94 Edward II 171, 221 effigies 58, 191, 195, 219–28, 279–80 embalming 101, 194, 203, 207–13, 216–17, 219, 225, 229–30 Esmenart, Margarit 350 Eugenius IV 66, 259, 355, 357 excommunication 22, 44, 58, 65, 67, 72, 73, 85, 86, 91, 132, 133, 134, 268, 282, 335, 338, 342 executions (decapitations) 11, 33, 55, 68, 124, 273, 280, 283, 291, 293, 344, 349, 350 Faith, Council of 177, 182, 184–85 fear (metus) 27, 30, 32, 34, 64, 78, 132, 136, 155–56, 161–62, 168, 172, 174 Flanders 38, 41, 46, 176, 294 fleet 278, 319–20 floods 284, 299, 304–5 Florence 4, 5, 25, 29, 50–51, 59–61, 66, 99–100, 114–15, 118, 120, 166, 232, 248, 251, 257, 272, 279, 292, 320, 343, 358

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Florentines 51, 246, 255, 290, 302 Fondi 2, 30, 42, 157, 163, 247–48, 267 food 57, 136, 157, 241, 301, 305, 326, 336, 340, 346, 349 Forcalquier 42, 281, 310–12, 319 fortifications 258, 340–42 Frederick of Austria 64, 124, 131–32 frequens 64, 66, 357 Froissart 7, 311 funerals 97, 100, 122, 124, 126, 135, 174, 189, 191, 192–96, 198–202, 204–5, 207–8, 211–12, 214, 216–18, 221–29, 309, 321, 359 gabelles 14, 279, 295, 298, 306–7, 309, 318, 337, 348, 354 games 245, 270, 273–74, 277–78, 283, 291 Gandelin, Pierre 27, 249 gates 14, 32–33, 45, 175, 209, 258, 276–77, 279–80, 283, 298, 304, 306–7, 309, 334, 337, 341–42, 344, 350 Genoa 26, 43, 48–49, 61, 91, 252, 355 gestures 73, 102, 111, 128, 133, 136, 141, 176, 201, 253, 268, 315, 318, 339, 342 Giacomo d’Itri 314 gifts 35, 73, 90, 99, 102, 104, 109–10, 157, 220, 254, 309, 316–17, 355 gold 91, 97–110, 118, 124, 126, 128, 135, 140, 142, 212, 226, 252, 263, 282, 304–6, 308–9, 313, 316, 318–19, 325, 331, 345, 348, 355, 358 Gregory VII 72 Gregory XI 1, 2, 6, 25, 29, 36, 82, 88, 119, 152, 153, 157, 202–4, 245, 249, 259, 282, 295, 297, 303–4, 311, 327 Gregory XII (Angelo Correr) 2, 50–51, 54, 56–57, 59, 63, 66, 79, 83, 114, 117, 272, 279, 289, 334 Guillaume de Tignonville 175 Guillaume Filastre 60 Haec Sancta 63–66, 184–85, 357–58 Henry of Segusio 54 Henry V 218, 222–24 homage 320, 323–24 horses 13, 101, 116, 118–20, 127–29, 131, 134, 136, 252, 261, 273, 318, 326 Hyères 312, 319 illuminated books 73, 306 Imitatio imperii 128, 130 incense 100, 136, 142, 206, 211, 217 indulgences 6, 67–68, 73, 75, 80, 82, 84, 86–88, 92, 95, 102–3, 126–27, 209, 255, 263, 266, 277, 283, 285, 287, 317–18 Infessura, Stefano 284 Innocent III 288

Index k 403 Innocent VII (Cosimo de’ Migliorati) 2, 49, 83, 169, 287, 289 interregna 191, 192, 227, 229 Isabeau of Bavaria 174, 179 Jerusalem 42, 93, 96, 99, 102, 251–52, 274–75, 280, 286, 309–11, 314, 318, 320, 322, 324, 333 Jews 33, 58, 86, 278, 296–97, 304, 341, 349–50 Joanna of Naples 34, 38, 41–42, 89, 99, 106, 251, 294, 297, 309–22, 325 John of Gravina 42 John of Jenstein 90–91, 94 John the Fearless of Burgundy 48, 174–78 John XXIII (Baldassare Cossa) 2, 53, 59, 63–64, 66–67, 83, 96, 110, 114–15, 117, 119–21, 123–25, 128, 131–32, 135, 164, 171–73, 182, 198, 213–14, 272, 277–81, 284, 290–91, 303, 347–48, 353–54 jubilees 37, 43–44, 86, 91–93, 126, 233–34, 253–55, 263–65, 285–87, 289 jugglers 320 Julius II 238 keys 100, 116–20, 200–1, 288, 307, 336, 341, 353 The King’s Two Bodies 180, 191, 221–22, 227 Ladislaus of Durazzo 16, 17, 49–51, 58–61, 67, 114, 120, 231, 233, 257, 266–83, 285, 289–91, 322, 331, 359 Le Fèvre, Jean 99, 104, 315–18, 320–25, 329–30 legitimacy 9, 14, 20, 26, 30, 32, 34, 37, 39, 53–56, 69, 71, 73, 75, 76–78, 87, 90, 104, 110, 118–19, 121, 123–25, 133, 137, 145–86, 227, 242, 259, 262, 278, 295, 304–6, 308, 314, 316, 324–25, 338, 359 Lenfant, Jacques 110 lese-majesty 149, 176, 180–81, 282, 337 letters, missives 5–6, 12, 14, 37, 45, 48, 57, 62, 67, 72–79, 96, 132, 152–53, 155, 164, 166–68, 183, 200, 247, 250–51, 262, 264–65, 284, 304, 310, 314–15, 319, 322, 324, 326–28, 347, 352–53 Liber Censuum 101, 302 Licitum est 185–86 lions 143, 260–62, 284 litter (feretrum, lectica) 204, 206–7, 321 liturgy 5, 9–10, 62, 71, 78–79, 89, 93–98, 100–1, 110, 153, 187–230, 276, 279, 291 liveries 308 Lodi 61, 114, 119, 123, 125, 135 Louis I of Anjou 42, 49, 89, 141, 185, 311–12, 315, 321, 327, 330 Louis II of Anjou 42, 49, 89, 141, 276–77, 313, 320–22, 331, 325, 342, 352 Louis of Orléans 36, 47–49, 145, 147–48, 173–75, 178, 186, 338

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Louis of Tarento 310 Lucca 43, 51, 252 Lyon 63, 197, 294, 341–42 Margaret of Durazzo 313 Marino (Battle of ) 41, 249, 251 Marseille 48–50, 294, 308, 312–13, 317, 319–20 Martín of Aragon 104, 108, 345 Martin V, Pope (Oddone Colonna) 2, 7, 66, 68, 80, 82–83, 86, 96, 110, 113–15, 118–21, 124, 128, 133, 135–36, 233, 259, 264–66, 285, 292, 355, 357 Mary (Virgin) 87–97, 116, 120, 125, 142, 213, 309, 323, 342 Mattuzzi, Pietro 257–58, 284 Mercati, Angelo 53 messengers 4, 34, 305, 355 Migliorati, Ludovico 49 Milan 25, 50, 77, 114, 132, 267, 292, 317, 322 minstrels 96, 308, 320 miter 86, 91, 102, 103, 126, 130, 212, 242 Montefiascone 250 Montpellier 318 Mos teutonicus 214, 222 mule 119, 136, 325 music 62, 87–97, 111, 113, 116, 120–21, 141, 308, 355, 359 musicians 95, 308–9 musk 99–103, 110, 217 myrrh 211, 217 Naples 2, 34, 35, 38, 40, 41, 42, 43, 49, 61, 67, 89, 99, 104, 106, 114, 153, 230, 232, 251, 252, 266, 267, 270, 272, 275, 276, 277, 279, 281, 283, 284, 285, 294, 297, 309, 310, 311, 312, 313, 314, 315, 316, 318, 319, 320, 321, 322, 325, 330, 331, 343, 345, 359 Naples Castel Nuovo 314 Nicholas IV, Pope 1 Nicholas of Cusa 289, 358 Nicholas V 92, 358 Nocera 43, 252 Novena 56, 165, 189, 193–95, 198, 200, 204, 207, 213, 216, 226–27, 229 Orange 107, 294 Ordo of Gregory X 101 Ordo Romanus XI 99 Ordo Romanus XII 100 Orsini (family) 26, 117, 120, 240, 244, 249, 257, 267–68, 272, 276–77, 281, 284 Orsini, Francesco 268, 274 Orsini, Paolo 257–58, 272–74, 276–79, 284 Ostia 114, 117, 190, 274, 326 Otto of Brunswick 314, 325, 331

404 l index Palio 268, 274, 277 Pallium 211–12, 242 pamphlets 62, 90–91, 333–34 papacide 181 Papal States 1, 24, 36, 37, 48–50, 59, 198, 246, 256, 258, 266, 292, 313 Paris, University of 7, 13, 22, 25, 38, 45–46, 48, 51–52, 91, 167–69, 177, 180, 333, 339, 342 Patrizi Piccolomini 229 pavilion 252 Peace of Chartres 177 penitentiaries 78–79, 157, 188, 204–5, 207–8, 210–13, 253 Perpignan 48, 57, 66, 339, 355 Petit, Jean 147, 176–81, 184–85, 318, 339 Perugia 43, 50, 103, 252, 256, 295, 313 Peter of Luxembourg 4, 328–30 Petit Thalamus 318 petitions 34–35, 37, 40, 44, 74–80, 91, 94, 124, 133, 152, 154, 209, 247, 257, 271, 280, 329, 355 Philip the Bold of Burgundy 41, 48, 144 Pietrasanta 51 Pignotte (papal almshouse) 304 Pintoin, Michel 45, 315, 321, 337, 339 Pisa 4, 6, 51–52, 58, 63, 69, 275, 276, 339, 341 Pisa, Council of 2, 20, 50, 53–54, 59, 114, 117–18, 339 Pittura infamante 253, 280 plague 5–7, 42, 138, 142, 170, 179, 287, 323, 331 Plenitudo potestatis 24, 67–68, 101, 128, 192, 195, 358 polyphony 94, 121 Pont-de-Sorgues 319, 325, 355 Pont-Saint-Esprit 316, 318, 323 Ponte Salario 247 Porto Venere 51 Pourtraicture 225 Prague 67, 90–91, 124, 133, 136, 179, 234 Prefect of Vico 246–47, 249 Presentation, Feast of the 9, 16, 87–90, 93, 95, 110, 121 Prignano, Francesco 251 processions 71, 95–97, 99, 103, 109, 112, 124, 126, 128, 135–37, 198, 204–6, 224, 239, 242, 252, 257–58, 273, 278, 282, 288–89, 309, 320–21, 354–55 Provençaux 312–13, 316, 319, 339, 343, 346 Provence 41–42, 278, 280, 294, 296, 303, 310–12, 317, 319, 321–25, 327–28, 330–31, 345–46, 349, 354 purple 100–3, 199, 252 Quilibet Tyrannus 183, 185 Raymond of Capua 90–91 red 13, 75, 91, 98, 100–3, 116, 118–20, 128, 143, 201, 206, 211–12, 226, 252, 273, 304, 314

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referendaries 77, 79, 199, 203 reliquary 215, 259, 281–83 Restitution of Obedience 48, 51 Rhône River 1, 47, 76, 143, 294–95, 299, 304, 307, 332, 340, 342, 344–48 Richard II 10, 16, 39, 145, 147–48, 159–64, 169–73, 176, 186, 218, 331 Richenthal, Ulrich 9, 17, 63, 68, 86, 99–100, 109–14, 122–37, 140, 142, 220, 358 Robert of Anjou 42, 310 Robine, Marie 329 Rocca Secca 59, 278 Rollet d’Auctonville 174–75 Romagna 59, 279, 313 Romana, Francesca (Saint) 266 Rome abitato 237, 253–54, 259 Agone 245, 273, 275, 277 banderesi 27, 31, 33, 35, 232, 236, 244–47, 250, 253, 256–57, 262, 265, 273–74, 296 Borgo Leonino 204, 236–38, 249, 272, 280, 340, 356 bovattieri 28, 239, 248–49 Campidoglio 238–39, 245, 257–58, 261 Campodifiori 277–78 Campo Marzio 237–38, 240 Capitolio 11, 232, 234, 238, 241, 243, 253, 258–63, 265, 268, 270–71, 273–74, 279–80, 283–84, 293 Caporioni 244, 249 Castel Sant’Angelo 2, 11, 27, 33–34, 41, 117, 232, 239, 248–49, 252, 258, 267–68, 272, 277, 280, 283, 290, 293, 342, 353, 356, 358 Colosseo 238, 265, 283 conservatores 244, 256–57, 265, 289 disabitato 237–38 Felice Società dei balestrieri e dei pavesati 27, 244 Holy Gate 232, 263–65 Hospital of Sancto Spirito 288 Laterano 101, 103, 118, 131, 232, 237–39, 241–42, 245, 254, 258–66, 268, 270, 278, 280, 284, 293, 295 Lupa 260 Memoriale de mirabilibus et indulgentiis quae in Urbe Romana existent 258–59 Monti 237, 239, 245, 283 Nobiles 258, 267 Palazzo del Senatore 241 Piazza Colonna 249 Ponte Molle 268, 270–71, 284 Ponte Sant’Angelo 238, 240, 249–50, 271 Populari 267 Porta S. Giovanni 268

Index k 405 Porta S. Lorenzo (Tiburtana) 272, 275, 277 Porta Sancte Marie dello Populo 270 Porta Septimiana 274–75, 281 Porta S. Paolo 274, 278 Porta St. Pancrazio (Branchati) 277 Porta Veridariam 270 Possesso 118, 239, 253, 270 Rioni 237, 242, 244–45, 249 Sancta Sanctorum 259, 265 Santa Croce 99, 101, 103 S. Giovanni in Laterano 28, 92, 130, 254, 265, 281, 283 S. Maria in Aracoeli 241, 259 S. Maria in Trastevere 238, 248, 275 S. Maria Maggiore 242, 254 S. Maria Nuova 266, 284 S. Paolo Fuori le Mura 245, 254 S. Pietro 92, 227, 239–40, 242, 245, 249, 251–54, 257, 263, 265, 270–81, 283, 285–87, 289–91, 295, 342 Testaccio 245, 273, 277, 283 Trastevere 11, 232, 237–38, 240, 248–49, 274–75, 277, 284, 291, 293, 356, 358 Vaticano 11, 103, 232, 236–38, 240, 249, 251, 254, 270–74, 278, 281, 283, 287, 290, 293 Via Maggiore, Maior 232, 265–66 Via Papalis 239, 240, 245, 253, 273, 278 Rostaing, Pierre 249 Rotuli 34, 40, 309 Sassoferrato, Bartolo da 149 Savelli (family) 240, 244, 272 Savona 48, 50, 272–73, 289, 338 Schiavo, Antonio di Pietro dello 16, 58, 268, 272–74, 276–79, 283–84, 288, 290–91 seal 75, 77–81, 84, 87, 100, 140–42, 198, 211, 228, 232, 245, 262–63, 323, 353 seal’s matrices 209, 228 sede vacante (vacant see) 152, 173, 187–88, 191–98, 202, 228–30, 272, 336 senses 72, 97, 110–11, 115–16, 120, 136, 141, 194, 358–59 sensory reading 6, 72, 111, 197, 290 sermons 5, 26, 48, 62–63, 88, 91, 96, 101–3, 114, 116, 121, 151–53, 172, 189, 196, 205, 252, 259, 295, 309, 318–19, 321, 324, 331, 333, 354 Sforza, Muzio Attendolo 60 sight 72, 97, 103 Sigismund (emperor) 60, 61, 63, 67, 109–10, 114, 119, 120, 123–25, 128, 132, 134–35, 173, 220, 279, 281, 355 singing 89, 94–96, 116, 136 Sixtus IV 92

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smell 9, 97–98, 100, 102–3, 110, 120, 127, 136, 142, 210–11, 216, 359 So, Bernard de 341 social drama 7–9, 22–23, 31, 44, 58, 66–67, 357–58 sound 33, 70, 110, 121, 127–28, 136, 142, 274, 277, 304, 354 St. Denis (Paris) 224, 315, 321, 325, 337, 339 Stefaneschi, Jacopo 100–2, 192, 195–96, 198 stones 80, 100, 132–33, 250, 260, 282, 307, 309 Stratores 128, 318, 325 Tarascon 312, 329 taste 71, 72, 97, 110, 136, 142 thanatopraxy 209, 213, 225 theatrics 3, 12, 21, 73, 120, 200, 219, 274 tiara 2, 44, 70, 117, 128, 242 Tiber 236, 237, 239, 240, 278, 284, 290 Tivoli 71, 154, 248 touch 9, 72, 87, 97, 110, 136, 142, 166, 234, 341, 359 Toulon 312 trumpets 33, 62, 110, 121, 127, 132, 136, 137, 141, 142, 272, 274, 342, 349, 353, 355 tyranny 9, 11, 20, 29, 39, 46, 54, 72, 145–86, 250, 253, 293 Ubi papa, ibi Roma 295 Uguccione (Cardinal) 20, 54, 171 Union of Aix, War 312, 319 Urban V 73, 83, 99, 202, 245, 249, 258–59, 281–82, 297 Urban VI (Bartolomeo Prignano) 1–2, 24–27, 29, 33, 34, 36, 38, 42, 44, 71, 79, 82–83, 87, 90–91, 107, 114, 117, 151–55, 157, 170–74, 203, 246–49, 251, 259, 265, 312–13, 320, 325 Usk, Adam 267, 270–72 Usurper, Intrusus 2, 5, 9, 71, 150–57, 314, 316 Vaticinia 112, 115, 117, 120–21 Venice 50, 60, 99, 224, 232, 320 Veronica, the 232, 263, 285–92, 342, 358 Via cessionis 21–22, 148, 182 Via facti 21–22, 117, 148, 160, 181–82, 331 Vienne 294 Vienne, Council of 295 Villeneuve 47, 166, 320, 324, 327, 332–33, 335, 353 Visconti, Bernabò 317 Visconti (family) 50, 320, 322 Visconti, Filippo Maria 114 Visconti, Gian Galeazzo 267 Visconti, Valentina 176 Visitation, Feast of the 9, 16, 87, 90–96, 110, 114, 116, 121 Viterbo 49, 61, 74, 241, 256, 267, 272–73, 280, 295

406 l index walls 73, 126, 236, 239, 341–42, 246, 249–50, 254, 256, 260, 263, 276, 280, 285, 298–99, 304, 321, 323, 335, 338, 340, 342, 345–46, 353–54 war elects (electi de Guerra) 343 War of Aix 322–29 wax 73, 75, 86, 130, 136, 195, 204, 209, 213–14, 217–21, 224–25, 309

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waxed cloth 218, 304 Wenceslaus IV 40, 90–91, 145 white 86, 116–20, 126, 128–30, 134, 143, 211–12, 226, 287, 326, 341, 346 Zabarella, Francesco 60–61, 99, 182 Zodiacal man 114, 121