authority rather than be responsible for a continuance of schism. He quoted the words: “Whosoever abaseth himself shall be exalted and whoso exalteth himself shall be brought low.” Benedict replied, pronouncing the schism abominable, detestable, dreadful—execranda, detestanda, diraque divisio. Gregory announced himself as passionately in favor of unification, so passionately that he was willing to cross by land or by sea—by land with a pilgrim’s staff, or by sea in a fishing-smack—to meet Benedict and to arrange for union. “Time is short. We are both old men,” wrote back Benedict. “Hasten and do not delay in this good cause. Let us both embrace the ways of salvation and peace.” Nothing could have been finer; the sentiments were beyond praise, the language was pathetic. The one lamented that the division was pitiable, the other that it was most destructive. Had they proved by act the sincerity of their words they both would have deserved canonization. The Catholic historian, Pastor, has said that none of the popes were big enough of soul to put an end to the schism.
It remained for thirteen cardinals, forsaking the two obediences, to take the first practical step leading to the desired reunion, They met at Livorno and called the acumenical synod, which convened at Pisa, 1409, for the purpose of healing the schism and, as the formula ran, reforming the church “in head and members,” which meant from the papal chair down.
The king of Bohemia, Wenzel, following his father, Charles IV, had consistently acknowledged the obedience of the Roman line and maintained his loyalty to it in spite of the attempts made by Clement VII to win Charles to the Avignon obedience. The call of the Pisan council gave a well-grounded hope for a settlement of the papal question, and Wenzel withdrew from the obedience of Gregory XII to assume a neutral attitude. The king called upon the university of Prague and the clergy to decide for neutrality. In
