Scholastics

The Decline of the Papacy

The thirteenth century concluded the grand synthesis—a philosophical, theological, political, and social framework—that emerged gradually from the confluence of numerous elements. The first of these elements was pure Greek philosophy, particularly the teachings of Pythagoras, Parmenides, Plato, and Aristotle. Following this, due to Alexander's conquests, a wave of Eastern beliefs flooded into the region. These beliefs, infused with Orphism and mysticism, transformed the intellectual landscape of the Greek-speaking world and ultimately that of the Latin-speaking world as well. The notion of a dying and resurrecting God, the sacramental consumption of what was considered the flesh of God, and the second birth to a new life achieved through a certain ceremony akin to baptism—all became integral to the theology of significant groups within the pagan Roman world. Accompanying these religious ideas was an ethic of liberation from the servile subjugation of the flesh, ascetic in nature, at least in theory. From Syria, Egypt, Babylon, and Persia came the institution of the clergy, separate from the laity, endowed with more or less supernatural gifts, and capable of exerting considerable political influence. From these same sources, a lavish and awe-inspiring ritual was adopted, largely connected to beliefs in the afterlife. Particularly from Persia, the dualism that viewed the world as a battleground between two immense armies—one embodying good and led by Ahura Mazda, and the other representing evil and commanded by Ahriman—permeated thought. Black magic was associated with what was created by Ahriman and his followers in the spiritual realm, with Satan being a development of Ahriman.

This influx of barbaric ideas and customs was synthesized with a number of Hellenistic elements in the philosophy of Neoplatonism. Within Orphism, Pythagoreanism, and certain aspects of Plato's teachings, the Greeks developed theoretical concepts that easily lent themselves to integration with Eastern thought, possibly because these ideas had been appropriated from the East long before. With Plato and Porphyry, the development of pagan philosophy reached its culmination.

However, the theories of these thinkers, despite their deep religiosity, could not inspire the triumphant popular religion without significant transformations. Their philosophical teachings were too complex and inaccessible for the masses; the paths to salvation they proposed were overly intellectual for the general populace. The conservatism of these philosophers led them to support the traditional religion of Greece, which they had to interpret allegorically in order to soften its immoral elements and reconcile it with their philosophical monotheism. Greek religion could not compete with Eastern rituals and theologies and thus fell into decline. Oracles fell silent, and the priesthood never constituted a powerful, isolated caste. Consequently, attempts to revive Greek religion took on an archaic character, rendering it somewhat feeble and pedantic, particularly evident during the reign of Emperor Julian. By the third century, it was already foreseen that some Asian religion would conquer the Roman world, even though at that time several rival religions still vied for supremacy, each seemingly having a chance of victory.

Christianity, in contrast, encompassed a range of strong elements appropriated from various sources. From the Jews, Christianity inherited the Holy Scriptures and the doctrine asserting the falsity and corruption of all religions save one; however, it rejected the racial exclusivity of the Jews and the burdensome nature of Mosaic law. Late Judaism had already embraced the belief in an afterlife, but Christians endowed the notions of heaven and hell with new clarity, outlining the paths to attain one and avoid the other. The Christian Easter merged the Jewish Passover with pagan festivities honoring the resurrecting God. Christianity also absorbed Persian dualism but with a firmer conviction in the ultimate omnipotence of the good principle, adding the notion that pagan gods were followers of Satan. Initially, Christians lagged behind their opponents in philosophy and ritual, but gradually this gap was closed. At first, the greatest philosophical successes were achieved among semi-Christian Gnostics rather than orthodox Christians; however, from the time of Origen, Christians developed a philosophy that aligned with their teachings, transforming Neoplatonism in the process. Early Christian ritual remains somewhat obscure, but by the time of St. Ambrose, it had acquired extraordinarily lavish and awe-inspiring forms. The powerful and distinct position of the clergy was borrowed from the East but gradually strengthened within Christianity through ecclesiastical governance methods, largely indebted to the practices of the Roman Empire. The Old Testament, mystical religions, Greek philosophy, and Roman governance methods all coalesced within the Catholic Church, uniting to imbue it with a strength unequaled by any previous social organization.

The Western Church, like Ancient Rome, evolved from a republic into a monarchy, albeit at a slower pace. We have already traced the stages of papal power from Gregory the Great through Nicholas I, Gregory VII, and Innocent III to the eventual defeat of the Hohenstaufen in the Guelph-Ghibelline wars. Simultaneously, Christian philosophy, previously Augustinian and therefore largely Platonic in character, was enriched by new elements through its interaction with Constantinople and Muslims. Throughout the thirteenth century, the West gained a fairly comprehensive understanding of Aristotle, who, influenced by Albert the Great and Thomas Aquinas, was established in the minds of scholars as the supreme authority after Holy Scripture and the Church. This position among Christian philosophers has persisted to this day. Yet, I cannot help but think that the replacement of Plato and St. Augustine with Aristotle was a mistake from a Christian perspective. Plato was, by temperament, a more religious figure than Aristotle, and Christian theology had been adapted to Platonism almost from its inception. Plato taught that knowledge is not sensation but a form of remembering vision; Aristotle, on the other hand, was much more an empiricist. St. Thomas, though it was never his intention, cleared the way for a return from Platonic fantasy to scientific observation.

External events exerted a greater influence on the disintegration of the Catholic synthesis that began in the fourteenth century than philosophy did. The Byzantine Empire was conquered by the Latins in 1204 and remained under their control until 1261. During these years, Catholicism was the state religion rather than Greek Orthodoxy; yet after 1261, Constantinople became forever lost to the Pope, despite a formal union concluded in Ferrara in 1438. The defeat of the Western Empire in its conflict with the papacy proved futile for the Church, as it was impeded by the rise of national monarchies in France and England; throughout much of the fourteenth century, the Pope was politically a tool in the hands of the French king. Even more significant were the rise of a wealthy trading class and the increasing education among laypeople. Both of these processes began in Italy, which, until the mid-sixteenth century, led other Western nations in this regard. In the fourteenth century, the northern Italian cities far surpassed all Northern cities in wealth, while the stratum of learned laypeople, especially in legal and medical fields, grew increasingly numerous. The northern Italian cities were imbued with a spirit of independence, which, now that the Emperor no longer posed a threat, inclined them against the Pope. Yet, similar movements, albeit to a lesser degree, existed everywhere. Flanders was experiencing a period of prosperity; so were the Hanseatic cities. In England, wool trade constituted the main source of wealth. This was an era when quite significant forces emerged that could be termed democratic (in the broadest sense of the term), while national tendencies were even stronger. The papacy, having become quite secularized, primarily appeared as a fiscal institution appropriating revenues that most countries wished to retain. The Popes no longer enjoyed or deserved the moral authority once conferred by their power. St. Francis could act in full accord with Innocent III and Gregory IX; yet the most pious figures of the fourteenth century found themselves compelled to confront the papacy.

However, at the beginning of the century, these causes for the decline of the papacy were not yet evident. Boniface VIII, in his bull "Unam Sanctam," articulated such extreme claims as had never before been asserted by any of his predecessors. In 1300, he established the observance of a jubilee year, during which all Catholics visiting Rome and fulfilling certain ceremonies during their stay would receive full absolution of their sins. This drew immense sums of money into the coffers of the Curia and the pockets of the Roman populace. Initially, it was intended that the jubilee year would occur every one hundred years, but the profits proved so significant that this interval was shortened to fifty years, and then to twenty-five, which remains the case today. The first jubilee, in 1300, marked the Pope at the pinnacle of his success, and this date can conveniently be accepted as the starting point of the papacy's decline.

Boniface VIII was an Italian, hailing from the city of Anagni. During his sojourn in England, Boniface was imprisoned in the Tower of London, compelled to support Henry III on behalf of the papacy against the rebellious barons. Yet in 1267, he was liberated from captivity by the king’s son, the future Edward I. By that time, a powerful French faction had emerged within the Church, and Boniface's election as pope faced opposition from French cardinals. A fierce conflict ensued between Boniface and King Philip IV of France regarding the king’s right to impose taxes on the French clergy. Boniface was an ardent proponent of nepotism and was characterized by avarice; thus, he sought to retain control over as many sources of revenue as possible. He was accused of heresy, perhaps justly; he appeared to be an Averroist and did not believe in the immortality of the soul. The clash between Boniface and the French king escalated to such a degree that the king dispatched an armed contingent to arrest the pope, intending to depose him by a decision of a general council. The pope was captured in Anagni but managed to escape to Rome, where he ultimately died. For a prolonged period thereafter, no pope dared to defy the French king.

Following a brief interregnum, the cardinals elected the Archbishop of Bordeaux as pope in 1305, who took the name Clement V. He was a Gascon and consistently represented the interests of the French faction within the Church. Throughout his pontificate, he did not set foot in Italy even once. Clement V was crowned in Lyon and established his residence in Avignon in 1309, which remained the papal seat for nearly seventy years. Clement V marked his alliance with the French king through a joint action against the Templars. Both were in dire need of funds—the pope, due to his favoritism and nepotism, and the king, because of the expenses incurred from the war with England, the Flemish revolt, and the ever-expanding bureaucratic apparatus. After the king plundered the Lombard bankers and pursued the Jews to the limits of what “trade could bear,” it occurred to him that there were still the Templars, who had been bankers and possessed vast tracts of land in France that he could seize with the pope’s assistance. Thus, they conspired that the Church would expose the Templars as heretics, while the king and pope would divide the spoils. On the appointed day in 1307, all prominent Templars in France were arrested; they were presented with a pre-prepared list of leading questions; under torture, they confessed to paying homage to Satan and committing various other vile acts. This culminated in 1313 when the pope abolished the order and confiscated all its property. The most thorough account of the Templar affair is provided in Henry C. Lea’s History of the Inquisition in the Middle Ages, where, after a comprehensive investigation of the relevant facts, the author concludes that none of the charges brought against the Templars had any basis in reality.

In the case of the Templars, the financial interests of both the pope and the king coincided. However, in most instances and across most regions of the Christian world, they were at odds. During the time of Boniface VIII, the king managed to secure support from the estates (even from the clergy) for the demands he advocated in his dispute with the pope over taxation. Yet, when the popes found themselves politically subservient to France, the rulers hostile to the French king inevitably became enemies of the pope. This was what led to the protection of William of Ockham and Marsilius of Padua by the emperor; shortly thereafter, it similarly resulted in John of Gaunt’s protection of Wycliffe.

Bishops, in general, were at that time in complete dependence on the pope; increasingly, they were not only nominally but also effectively appointed by him. The monastic orders were equally subservient, and the Dominicans complied, yet the Franciscans maintained a degree of independence. This led to their conflict with Pope John XXII (1316—1334), already mentioned in relation to William of Ockham. During this conflict, Marsilius persuaded the emperor to march on Rome, where the populace crowned him emperor and declared John XXII deposed, after which a Franciscan antipope was elected. However, from this endeavor, nothing emerged other than a general decline in respect for the papacy.

Rebellion against papal authority took various forms in different countries. At times, it was tied to monarchical nationalism; at others, it stemmed from Puritan indignation regarding the corruption and secularization of the papal court. In Rome itself, this rebellion was associated with archaic democratic sentiments. During the reign of Clement VI (1342—1352), Rome briefly attempted to liberate itself from the absent pope; this movement was led by the remarkable figure Cola di Rienzi. Rome suffered not only from papal dominion but also from local aristocracy, which continued to support the anarchy that had brought the papacy to the brink of collapse in the tenth century. Essentially, the popes fled to Avignon partly to escape the lawlessness of the Roman nobility. Initially, Rienzi, the son of an innkeeper, rose against the nobility, enjoying papal support at this stage. He inspired such a surge of popular enthusiasm that the nobility fled (1347). Petrarch, who admired Rienzi and dedicated one of his odes to him, urged him to continue his great and noble cause. Rienzi assumed the title of Tribune and proclaimed the supremacy of the Roman people over the empire. This supremacy, it seemed, he conceived democratically, as he summoned representatives from all Italian cities to a sort of parliament. However, success bred in Rienzi a sense of grandeur. At this time, two claimants were contending for the title of emperor. Rienzi commanded both claimants and the electors to appear before him for a resolution. This, naturally, made him an enemy of both claimants and the pope, who considered the adjudication of such matters his prerogative. Rienzi was captured by the pope (1352) and spent two years in prison until Clement VI died. He then regained his freedom and returned to Rome, where he once again seized power for several months. However, during this second period of rule, Rienzi's popularity proved fleeting, and he was ultimately slain by the mob. Byron, like Petrarch, immortalized him in one of his poems.

The course of events made it clear that if the papacy wished to remain the actual head of the entire Catholic Church, it must free itself from dependency on France and return to Rome. Furthermore, the Anglo-French war, during which France suffered severe defeats, rendered its position precarious. Thus, Urban V moved to Rome in 1367; however, Italian politics proved too tangled a matter for him, and shortly before his death, he returned to Avignon. The next pope, Gregory XI, was more resolute. Hostility toward the French curia turned many Italian cities, particularly Florence, into fervent opponents of the papacy. Nevertheless, upon returning to Rome and opposing the French cardinals, Gregory XI did everything in his power to salvage the situation. However, when he died, the clash between the French and Roman factions in the College of Cardinals took on an irreconcilable character. In accordance with the wishes of the Roman faction, Bartolomeo Prignano was elected pope and took the name Urban VI. Yet, several cardinals declared his election contrary to canon law and elected Robert of Geneva, a member of the French faction, as pope. He took the name Clement VII and remained in Avignon.

Thus began the Great Schism, which lasted nearly forty years. France, understandably, recognized the Avignon pope, while the enemies of France acknowledged the Roman pope. Scotland was an enemy of England, and England was an enemy of France; thus, Scotland also recognized the Avignon pope. The Avignon and Roman popes selected cardinals from among their partisans, and when one of the popes died, his supporting cardinals swiftly elected his successor. Consequently, the only means of resolving the schism was to oppose both popes with some higher authority. Since it was evident that one of the popes must be legitimate, the task was to find a power that was above the legitimate pope. The only solution was the convocation of a general council. The University of Paris, led by Gerson, developed a new theory asserting that the right of legislative initiative within the Church belonged to the council. Secular rulers, dissatisfied with the ecclesiastical schism, supported the conciliar movement. Finally, in 1409, a council was convened in Pisa. However, it ended in utter failure, and in the most ridiculous manner. The council declared both popes deposed for heresy and schism and elected a third pope, who soon died. Yet, the cardinals who supported the newly elected pope quickly chose as his successor a former pirate named Baldassare Cossa, who took the name John XXIII. Thus, the actual outcome of the council was that instead of two popes, there were now three, with the conciliar pope being a notorious scoundrel. At this stage, the situation appeared more hopeless than ever.

However, the proponents of the conciliar movement did not lay down their arms. In 1414, a new council was convened in Constance, which took decisive action. First and foremost, the council decreed that popes could not dissolve councils and were obliged to submit to them in certain respects; it also decided that future popes were required to convene an ecumenical council every seven years. The council deposed John XXIII and compelled the Roman pope to abdicate the throne. The Avignon pope refused to step down, and after his death, due to the intrigues of the Aragonese king, his successor was elected. Yet France, which had fallen under English rule by this time, refused to recognize the Avignon pope, and the faction supporting him lost all its influence, ultimately ceasing to exist. Thus, by 1417, no one stood in opposition to the pope elected by the council, and the council chose a pope who took the name Martin V.

These measures honor the Council of Constance, which cannot be said of its treatment of Hus, the Czech disciple of Wycliffe. Hus was summoned to Constance with promises of personal inviolability; however, upon his arrival, he was condemned and burned at the stake. Wycliffe was safe in his grave, yet the council ordered his remains to be exhumed and burned. The supporters of the conciliar movement made every effort to deflect any suspicion of unorthodoxy from themselves.

The Council of Constance resolved the schism, but it aspired to achieve much more—to replace papal absolutism with a constitutional monarchy. Before his election, Martin V made many promises; some he fulfilled, while others he violated. He consented to a decree mandating that popes summon a council every seven years and remained obedient to this decree. After the Council of Constance was dissolved in 1417, a new council was convened in 1424, which played no significant role; then, in 1431, another council was summoned, with sessions set to occur in Basel. Just at that time, Martin V passed away, and his successor Eugene IV was embroiled throughout his pontificate in fierce conflict with the reformers who held the council in their grasp. Eugene IV dissolved the council, but the latter refused to acknowledge its dissolution; in 1433, the pope temporarily yielded, but in 1437 he disbanded the council again. Despite this, the council continued to meet until 1448, when it became apparent to all that the pope had achieved complete triumph. In 1439, the council itself forfeited sympathy by declaring the pope deposed and electing an antipope (the last antipope in history), who, however, abdicated almost immediately after his election.

In the same year, Eugene IV gained prestige by convening his own council in Ferrara, where the Greek church, in mortal fear of the Turks, formally recognized its dependence on Rome. Thus, the papacy emerged from this struggle as the political victor, though to a significant degree it lost its former ability to inspire moral reverence.

Wycliffe (circa 1320—1384) exemplifies the decline of papal authority in the fourteenth century through his life and teachings. Unlike earlier scholastics, Wycliffe belonged to the secular clergy rather than a monastic or mendicant order. He enjoyed immense fame at Oxford, where he received a doctorate in theology in 1372. For a brief time, he led Balliol College. Wycliffe was the last significant Oxford scholastic. As a philosopher, he was not a progressive thinker: he was a realist and more a Platonist than an Aristotelian. Wycliffe asserted that divine providence is not arbitrary, as some believe; the actual world is not one of many possible worlds, but the only possible world, since God cannot choose anything but the most perfect. Yet it was not these views that rendered Wycliffe an intriguing figure, nor did they seem to focus his main interests, for he left Oxford to lead the life of a country priest. For the last ten years of his life, Wycliffe served as a parish priest in Lutterworth by royal appointment. However, he continued to lecture at Oxford.

Wycliffe astounds with the extraordinary slowness of his spiritual development. By 1372, when he was already over 50 years old, he still considered himself a faithful Catholic; it was only later that he apparently became a heretic. The path to heresy for Wycliffe was evidently propelled solely by the strength of his moral sentiments—his love for the poor and his aversion to wealthy clergy mired in worldly concerns. Initially, Wycliffe's attacks on the papacy were purely political and moral rather than doctrinal; only gradually did the course of events push him toward a broader rebellion.

Wycliffe's departure from orthodoxy began in 1376 with a series of lectures at Oxford titled "On Civil Lordship." Wycliffe advanced a theory that the right to property is granted only by righteousness; unjust clergy are deprived of such a right; the authority to decide whether property should be retained by any given cleric or not rests with civil authority. Furthermore, Wycliffe taught that property is the fruit of sin; Christ and the apostles had no possessions, and priests should likewise have no property. These doctrines incited outrage among all clergy except the members of mendicant orders. However, the English government supported Wycliffe, for the pope extorted immense tribute from England, and the doctrine that England should not send money to the pope proved quite convenient. Wycliffe's teachings were particularly timely given that the pope depended on France while England was at war with it. John of Gaunt, who was the de facto ruler of the country while Richard II was still a minor, offered Wycliffe friendly support as long as it was feasible. In contrast, Pope Gregory XI condemned eighteen theses from Wycliffe's lectures, asserting that they were borrowed from Marsilius of Padua. Wycliffe was ordered to appear before an episcopal tribunal, but the queen and the crowd protected him, and the University of Oxford refused to acknowledge the pope's jurisdiction over its faculty. (Even today, English universities remain faithful to the principle of American freedom.)

Meanwhile, between 1378 and 1379, Wycliffe continued to write scholarly treatises asserting that the king is God's vicar and that bishops are subordinate to the king. When the Great Schism occurred, Wycliffe went even further, denouncing the pope as the Antichrist and claiming that the acceptance of the Donation of Constantine had rendered all subsequent popes apostates. Wycliffe translated the Vulgate into English and initiated the movement of "poor priests," whose ranks were filled by laymen. (This step finally incited the wrath of the members of the mendicant orders as well.) Wycliffe employed "poor priests" as wandering preachers, whose pastoral message was primarily directed toward the poor. Ultimately, in his critiques of priestly gifts, Wycliffe reached the point of denying transubstantiation, which he termed a deception and blasphemous madness. Even John of Gaunt commanded him to silence. The peasant uprising of 1381, led by Wat Tyler, further complicated Wycliffe's situation. We lack evidence that he actively supported the peasant revolt; however, unlike Luther in similar circumstances, he did not raise his voice in condemnation of it. John Ball, a socialist priest stripped of his office and one of the leaders of the peasant revolt, held Wycliffe in high esteem, which could not help but cast a shadow on him as well. Yet, considering that John Ball was excommunicated in 1366, when Wycliffe was still orthodox, he must have arrived at his views independently of Wycliffe. Wycliffe's communist ideas, although the "poor priests" undoubtedly contributed to their spread, were expressed only in Latin writings and thus remained inaccessible to the peasants firsthand.

It is impossible not to be struck by the fact that Wycliffe suffered little for his views and democratic activities, far less than one might expect. The University of Oxford shielded him from the bishops for as long as it could. When the House of Lords condemned Wycliffe’s wandering preachers, the House of Commons refused to support this verdict. There is no doubt that had Wycliffe lived longer, the storm clouds gathering above him would have darkened further; yet until his death in 1384, he was never formally condemned. Wycliffe was buried in Lutterworth, where he passed away, and his body lay peacefully until the Council of Constance ordered that his remains be exhumed and burned at the stake. His English followers, the Lollards, became victims of relentless persecution, effectively facing annihilation. However, due to the fact that Richard II's wife was Czech, Wycliffe's teachings gained a foothold in Bohemia, where one of his disciples was Hus; there, Wycliffe's followers, despite facing persecution, survived until the Reformation. Although in England the rebellion against papacy was forced underground, it continued to live in the hearts of the people and laid the groundwork for Protestantism.

Throughout the fifteenth century, new factors contributing to the decline of papal authority emerged, leading to a rapid transformation in both political and cultural spheres. The advent of gunpowder strengthened central governments at the expense of feudal nobility. In France and England, Louis XI and Edward IV forged alliances with the wealthy middle class, which helped them crush aristocratic anarchy. Italy, until the latter years of the century, remained entirely free from northern armies and made swift progress in terms of wealth and culture. The characteristic features of this new culture were pagan in nature, displaying admiration for Greece and Rome and disdain for the Middle Ages. Architecture and literary style were adapted to ancient models. When Constantinople, the last remnant of antiquity, fell to the Turks, the humanists of Italy joyfully welcomed the Greek refugees who arrived. Vasco da Gama and Columbus expanded the boundaries of the world, while Copernicus stretched the limits of the heavens. The Donation of Constantine was dismissed as a fraudulent invention and ridiculed by scholars. Through the Byzantines, the West became acquainted with Platonic thought, not only in its Neoplatonic and Augustinian versions but also firsthand. Our sublunary world no longer appeared as a vale of tears or a place of sorrowful pilgrimage to another realm; instead, it was seen as a world opening up to the possibilities of pagan joys, glory, beauty, and adventure. The long centuries of ascetic detachment from life were forgotten in a bacchanalia of art, poetry, and pleasure. Indeed, even in Italy, the Middle Ages did not pass away without struggle; Savonarola and Leonardo were born in the same year. Yet, by and large, the former specters ceased to terrify the populace, who were intoxicated by this newfound spirit of freedom. This intoxication could not last long, but for a moment, it dispelled fear. In this moment of joyous liberation, a new world was born.