The Vatican as a World Power

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
The Vatican as a World Power  (1939) 
by Joseph Bernhart


At a time when the whole world is deeply interested in what is taking place between the Quirinal and the Vatican this book about the Papacy make* its appearance, It tells of the origin and activities of a world power which is the most unusual and the most enduring the race has known to the present day. Leo XIII admonished historians to say nothing untrue, and to hide nothing that is true. Nevertheless how much that is true could not be said in these few pages - either of good or of evil! For there is talk of both here. I am not writing either for those who believe that the Popes committed only venial sins, nor for those who feel more joy over one sinner than over ninety-nine that are just* The idea of the book and its title were suggested by the German publishers.




The present edition contains changes in expression and in fact as well as a few additions. As a result the whole book has, I think, been improved. I am thankful to my critics for many observations. Whenever praise or blame have been dictated by partisanship, I have ignored them. To me the point that matters has been made by the French translator : "Readers (whether of the right or of the left) \vho have made up their minds in advance* may perhaps grumble. But what good is a book if it does not arouse strong feelings? . . . But the person of honest mind will realize that nothing is so like the times, the people, the problems and the cares of today as those of yesterday/ 1

J. B,









LIBERATION .............. 124


CATASTROPHE ............. 192

THE SACK OF ROME ........... 226

L^ETARE JERUSALEM ........... 259


AWAY FROM ROME ! ........... 309


Quo VADIS? ............. 377

THE CURIA .............. 387


INDEX ............... 449


The great Home of St. Peter's is filled with light, making plain the words inscribed in gold within the circle: TH es Petrtts ct super hanc petwm adiftcabo ecclesiam meam> et tibi d&bo clavcs regni c&lorum Thou art Pcier the rock, and upon this rock I build My Church, and to thcc I give the keys of the Kingdom of Heaven. Far beneath the dome ami bathed in its light, the high altar rises; and under it the Fisherman of Galilee lies buried in the earth the Fisherman to whom, Saint Matthew's Gospel says, those words were spoken.

The nineteenth centuty cast the shadow of doubt upon the faith of centuries which had prayed and chanted on this spot a good thou- sand years before Bramante, Michaelangelo and Bernini began to buili!. Some said that Peter was not buried here> and also that Paul did not rest under the stones of the Basilica on the Ostian Way* In- dcetl, had either of them ever come to Rome? Nor (it was thought) could any such spying have ever crossed the lips of Jesus*

Science it entitled to evcty doubt, but it has also the duty of render- ing the most scrupulously accurate verdict to which it can possibly arrive* Faith may well be, in its deepest depths, impervious to at- tack; but knowledge nevertheless buttresses it with testimony. And today the inscription there in the light of the dome and the tomb in the darkness of the earth are given a new significance by the affirma- tion of science that a genuine Gospel saying is here placed above the rme grave of Peter. Mere on Vatican Hill, in the soil of a pagan burial ground on which the ancient Petrine Basilica was erected about 350, rests the disciple who, like Paul, died a martyr's death during the reign of Nero (between 64 and 67). Both were legislators of the Christian community, which had taken form long before its establish- ment in the metropolis*

Theac fact* constitute the firm points of vantage from which we shall glance at the eirly history of the Papacy, The toots of this most long-lived of tree* rise from out of God's earth far into the spaces of the antique world and dig deep into the soil of centuries,

The Roman Empire of Augustus* time strcdied in a northerly direction from Spain to the baJ of &ttdand, a^


Southern Germany and the Balkans to the Black Sea. To the south it extended from Morocco across "Algiers and Tunis to Egypt; and it went eastward across Central Asia, Syria and Palestine to the Tigris and the Euphrates. The political calm which rested on the World Empire was like the quiet of a summer's day, in which all that lives can grow and thrive. Caesar Augustus, it was declared, had brought the answer to every prayer: he was the father of the fatherland, the saviour of the whole human race. Men sang the praises of the Pax Romana, the peace which all earth owed to Rome. This peace had been created through might and wisdom, with the merciless sword and the ploughshare of ordering law. And now all peoples appeared to be free for the task of fashioning their own inward happiness.

Deep yearning was abroad and the hour ripe for satisfaction of that yearning. But there was a melancholy sky over the still waters, and under them stirred the serpents of human passion. The world was noisy with dissatisfaction, and Orient and Occident joined in the search for a redeemer from distress. Just what was this distress? The money then in circulation bore the image of the Greek goddess of plenty, symbolized by the cornucopia, . or that of Victory with lance poised over the victim of the victor. Nevertheless that money passed through hands that knew no peace. For, no matter how many gods of East and West peopled the heavens, money itself remained the real divinity of those times. During the pauses in the chase after the good things of life, one realized that life itself had escaped. Earnest men looked sadly at the world. They saw that culture had been degraded, because it, like all else, was served only for money's sake; that luxury made more victims than even war did; and that the Pax Romana took more from a people than it gave. By Her- cules! life itself was declining lust was now in its place! The Empire was safe from without, but its citizens were oppressed and threatened from within.

Neither scholars, poets, philosophers, critical fatalists or satirists bear such eloquent testimony to the sodden despair which rested on the late first century of the Empire as does the general resurgence o religions. Thanks to the cosmopolitan spirit, the freedom of inter- course, and the dominance of the common Greek language, the East could carry its gods, its teachings and its initiating rites to the West.


Rome was flooded with the professors of alien faiths. Morning and evening the servants of Isis, with shaven heads and white linen tunics, follow the gong of the sistrum to the temple of the goddess for choral song. As soon as spring has melted the ice of the Tiber, they dive three times daily into the stream in order to cleanse their sinful bodies; or they crawl on their knees across the Field of Mars to appease the angry divinity.

So also did the Phrygian processions move toward their Holy of Holies on the Palatine, bearing the silver image of the great mother Cybele, or the pine enshrouded like a corpse which signifies Attis, her dead lover. Thus also did the Syrians, busy merchants in their Roman shops and passionate worshippers in their chapels, participate in the strange cults honouring their god Baal. And so did Romans and alien folk gather at the table of the astrologers outside the Circus Maximus, where fortunes were read from a globe or a planetarium for patrons who did not need to feel ashamed since Caesar, Augustus and Tiberius had come here, too.

What was it that attracted Rome to these cults, mysteries and abstruse teachings of the East? Many abandoned their gods in the same spirit in which the marriage tie may be broken for a mistress' sake. These religious services offered something to the imagination. Out of the wealth of myths and teachings every one could take that which satisfied his own need; and the light of a new life, of a higher reality and of a dawning eternal existence of man mystically renewed, reborn, shone irresistibly through the grey mist of the everyday. Religious forms offered might be manifold, but the mood of the people who sought them out was prevailingly one yearning for the soul's salvation now and after death.

In the dirtiest quarter of the city, beyond the Tiber, the Jews had their Ghetto. Doubtless it had been there a good two hundred years. Pompey, the conqueror of Jerusalem, had brought back hosts of cap- tives, and had freed them after his triumphal return. Roman policy was more favourable to them than was public opinion. While there were no pogroms like that which broke out in Alexandria in 38 A.D., the Jew was a stock figure for ridicule on the comic stage, and the poets from Horace to Juvenal made him the butt of their satire. Nevertheless some looked with different feelings on these bankers,


pedlars and palm readers. Their religion was unique. It had noth- ing in common with an overpopulated Olympus where so mockers said the gods quarrelled about places at the table, and where the price of ambrosian nectar went up by reason of the increasing demand. They served the One Invisible God without the help of temple or images. In their houses of prayer, He was proclaimed the Creator of Heaven and Earth, the Author of the true moral law according to which He would judge all men. This was the heart of the Jewish religion: all else, customs and cult, retreated into the background. For the Jews in the diaspora, though they still sent their moneys to Jerusalem for the temple, had loosened many an ancient tie as the result of living in the midst of a world fashioned by Greek influences. They were far more receptive to the cosmopolitan spirit of the great Empire than were their brethren in the Holy City. But what phi- losophers and wandering rhetoricians taught them could not shake their faith in Jahwe and their hope that His Anointed would come. With the oldest Book of the world in their hands, they confronted the ride of new and old religions with their own mission. By reason of this they felt strong enough, and success justified their confidence* Though the Romans might point out the alien, dark and sinister aspects of this despised people, they could not prevent the crowds from going from the metropolis to the synagogues.

Moreover since the days o Augustus an unobtrusive conquest had been in progress. It was not curiosity merely, it was chc seething human heart, which drew more and more Romans and their women to the Jewish houses of prayer. They heard o Moses and the proph- ets. They grew interested in the Bible, which had long before been translated into Greek and was also read by pagans, Roman families, too, practised fasting, burning oil lamps on the eve of the Sabbath day; and chc strict rest which Jewish businesses and bank* observed on the Sabbath reminded the whole city each week of this people and its faith. The attraction of Judaism was felt by all classes Unqualified conversion, which would have necessitated circumcision, was probably rare; but the number of "God-fearing* 1 who professed the One God Jahwe and who observed both Sabbath and dietary law* was very large. In these circles there were many forms and grada- tions of adherence to the teachings and customs of the synagogue;


the Jewish mission was not narrowminded, and it knew how to wait. Whenever a wandering teacher came, it was for the head of the syna- gogue a duty to invite him to lecture.

Perhaps (we do not know for certain) , such teachers brought, be- tween the years 40 and 50 A.D., tidings of Jesus, in whom they said the Messiah had verily appeared. At all events Jews from Pales- tine did so. It was Jesus Who set the spirits of Judaism at sword's points in the West as in the East. The Roman synagogue became the scene of an inner conflict evoking such unrest that the Emperor Claudius decided to dissolve the whole Jewish colony. When this returned after a short while, the teachings of this "certain Chrestus" had spread still farther, no doubt particularly among the "God-fear- ing.** The Jews were now divided; there were Jewish Christians and Gentile Christians. Both elements were united in the flourish- ing community to which Christ's great missionary in the Hellenic East sent his Epistles about the year 58. He wrote that he, Paul, the servant of Jesus Christ, was a chosen apostle elected to preach the joyous message of God . . . that the Gospel is a divine power, a means of salvation for all who receive it, believe in it, whether they be Jews or Gentiles. With these thoughts the Epistle, which has been so fateful a message to all peoples in all centuries, concerned it- self. It was a forerunner of the visit which the author was to make to the Roman community as soon as his projected trip to Spain could be undertaken.

In the spring of the year 62, after a perilous journey he came up to the capital from Sicily. He arrived a prisoner and for a time re- mained one. The Roman authorities had arrested this apostate Jew on the charge of having fomented a revolt. Paul, who appealed to the Emperor as a Roman citizen, had now to defend his position be- fore the Roman courts and the ciders of the Jewish congregation. During all of two years he lived under light arrest, guarded only by one soldier in a rented room, which he knew how to turn into a pulpit for his teaching* While he was winning his case at court, the op- position between Jews and Nazarcncs became clearer. Paul, the persistent, passionate advocate of the New Testament, separated him- self sharply from the Old. Let the Jews persist in their legalism the Gospels shall then be preached to heathen. Here the teaching


of the Apostle was identical with that he had preached for two decades past in the cities of Central Asia. For the Kyrios Christos, Who had appeared to him on the way to Damascus so that Saul might be trans- formed into Paul, he pleaded with each breath and on every foot of earth which his restless feet traversed. For Him he had founded congregation after congregation, each one of which was to remain united by a firm, living bond to the mysterious centre, Christ the Master of souls, the Strength of hearts, the Judge of all things human, the Sacred Meaning and Moving Force of history. Paul, who spoke to Roman Jews, Christians and heathens, already drew from the treasury of a highly developed world of thought. This one may call the pattern for a Church filled with the spirit of Jesus, but also with the spirit of Paul, who in following His Master also cast his own tremendous shadow upon the earth.

Besides Paul another spoke to the early Christians of Rome. He had never been a Saul, was a man of totally different stuff. There was in his eye no dark glow of desire for conquest, but the light of that spirit which is of the Kingdom of Heaven because it resembles the heart of a child. To flesh and blood he permitted the first word, but to the higher power which supersedes these he gave trustingly and rev- erently the second and the final word. He is truly soil on which the eight beatitudes can thrive, though stones and weeds may hinder their growth. So at least he seems to us as we read the Gospel nar- ratives. And so, with convincing honesty, he doubtless also set forth the story of his past life for the benefit of the Roman congregations; for what his companion Mark, who had known him since ';arly youth, wrote there is Peter's own story. In Mark's Gospel as well as in the other Gospels Peter grows beyond his stature more than docs any other figure in history. Small natural endowment becomes the lever of a great destiny. Like Paul he too was seized upon by An- other, not by a sudden grasp from out the world of mystery, but through patient guidance amidst events which very gradually ht learned to understand.

His name was Simon, son of Jonas, Him, the fisherman of Ca- pharnum on the Sea of Gennesaret, Jesus enrolled among His very own. The Galilean race to which he belonged had characteristics quite its own it was simple and confiding, fond of liberty and


fearless of death, sanguine both in the sense of being open and sensi- tive to the strange or the new, and in the sense of being subject to quick changes of mood. This Simon was a genuine Galilean. The Scriptures reveal him as a man of contradictions, but fully in accord with the temperament of his race. The blaze of great decisions burst from the power to love that is hidden in his heart, and in weak moments his timidity changes like the shadow of a swift-moving cloud over the brightness of his courageous will to be loyal unto death. These Galilean farmers and fishermen from beside the lake are like children in good and evil. Loathsome to them is the "yoke/* under which term they understand the law the 613 rules which the Pharisees deemed the will of God. A new Teacher who removed it from them and said that His yoke was sweet, won their hearts for His joyful tidings.

Simon was also among those who followed the Call of Jesus. For this he may have been prepared as a result of a popular movement which John the Baptist had created in the Land of the Jordan. From the beginning he was a member of the inner circle. When Jesus sent him out, together with the rest, He gav^him the name Kepha, which in English means "Rock" and in Greek "Peter." For these men and their times a name was more than a name. It was the sum- mary of a character and a destiny. Peter is, to be sure, not by nature a man of stone unless one thinks that his great, loyal willingness to self-sacrifice justifies the title. This willingness the fisherman, who is henceforth to be a fisher of men, does not lack. He is married, but gives up his trade; his house becomes a haven of the new Gospel. He gets out of his ship and places his feet on the water when the Master bids him come. When he suddenly recognizes Jesus calling from the shore, he casts himself from the skiff in which the others are straining to reach land and swims toward Him. But the "Rock" is also hard stone for the seed of the Sower. Jesus speaks of His Pas- sion that is to be, and Peter is frightened. God forbid! He places the voice of flesh and blood the hope that a mighty Messiah King is to be across the way of the Master whom he has even yet not understood. Jesus speaks sharply to him: "Get thee behind Me, Satan!" On the Mount of Transfiguration he desires three tents for his comfort; and beneath the olive trees of Gethsemane he sleeps


through the hours of His Master's agony. In defense he strikes with his sword at a soldier; and in the courtyard of the high priest he de- nies Him thrice before the cock can crow.

These are the definitive pictures of Peter retained in the memory of centuries. He is of great heart but despairs easily; he has energy to strike but no clear knowledge of the target to be struck at; and he is a man of contradictions entrusted with a lofty mission which over- whelms him. Nevertheless, the traits of human nature in its greater and meaner forms are placed against a majestic background by die Bible. This is revealed dark and difficult to fathom in the scene of Gesarea Philippi.

Jesus had awakened the enthusiasm of the people. Herod Anti- pas, ruler of the land, who had caused the Baptist to be beheaded, thought that a second John had come. The High Council in Jeru- salem heard of the happenings in the north and suspected a breach with the Jewish religion. Earthly and spiritual power already began to tie the tragic knot in the life of the Nazarene. Scribes came to the Sea of Gennesaret in order to see for themselves. They realized that there was danger and sundered the people from Him. For this was only a wavering folk willing to obey the keepers of the law. Jesus lost followers, sentiment turned against Him, and He was deserted even by disciples. He went northward toward Phoenicia taking with him a little band that included Peter. They did not know where to lay their heads. Soon they were turned back into the heathen country east of the lake. Jesus taught and Jews also came again. These were no important personages, but just a mass of men; and to them was directed the Sermon on the Mount that tells of God's King- dom, in which everything is totally different from what prevails in the world of humankind. But the Pharisees were again in pursuit* And so He went up the Jordan to the green hill country of the wells which lies at the foot of snow-capped Mount Hermon, Near Caesarea Paneas, the city of Prince Philip, there stood above a high terrace a temple in honour of Augustus. There He began to talk about His Person to His companions. Now His influence had already grown deep enough to permit wrestling with the questions which the Jewish people perhaps even more than the other peoples of the Orient asked whenever in their history men and events


seemed definite messengers or signs from God. Whence did the inner power of this Jesus come? How was one to understand the mystery of His personal Being? What did His activity mean in the plan of Divine Providence?

Israel, like Babylon, Persia and India, believed that its greatest spirits could return to earth in the guise of epochal men who gave body to, perfected, the "spirit and power" of their precursors. Moses, Elias and Jeremiah were like suns behind the clouds of contemporary time. The universal expectation of One who would come to fulfill the deepest hopes of the people was coupled with such names. This superhuman Bearer of a new era was also termed the "Son of Man" in the apocalyptic writings which prophesied the "future state." His name and person were set down in the Book of Daniel, which was given its final form about 300 B.C. The author of this book beholds in a vision the coming Perfecter of the history of God's chosen people One in whom the Divine Spirit shall dwell. To Him the visions of die seer point, incorporating a daringly new attempt to comprehend the meaning of world history, indeed of history itself. For centuries the Jewish people had derived an incomparable strength and depth of insight into die flood of historic events from these Prophecies of Daniel. Nor was die fountain dry in Jesus' rime.

The great culture of the Greeks took man for its starting point and fashioned him, after the manner of a sculptor's hand, into a harmoni- ous whole which rested in itself or rather only seemed to rest, for when die work was done it was apparent that man as man was not yet the whole, complete Man. Israel never parted company with the idea that everything human rests within a super-human reality and is significant for that reason. It lives out of the hand of its God, Who is holy, just and wise, even though He permits His people to fall into misery and allows the enemy even Jahwe's own enemy to triumph. For all things are but tools in His hand and serve His end. But this end: the day will come when it shall be attained and one of His holy people shall be His instrument, the founder of a Divine do- minion over all nations for all rime. Heavy, stifled eras seek to breathe by taking refuge in a bygone age of gold, or in the liberating visions of hope. From the human point of view, the Apocalyptic Books up until the time of the Baptist also possessed this character.


Jesus was familiar with their language. Visibly in connection with the Book of Daniel, but surely also with other writings which fas- cinated those to whom He spoke, He urged the disciples gathered in Gesarea to reach a decision concerning His Person.

"What do men say concerning the Son of Man, Who He is?*' They said: "Some, John the Baptist, others, Elias, and still others, Jeremias, or one of the prophets (Moses) ." Then He asked them: "And ye? Whom do ye hold Me?" Then Simon Peter answered and said: "Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God." Then Jesus answered him and said: "Blessed art thou, Simon Barjona, for flesh W blood have not revealed it to thee, but My father Who is in. Heaven. So I say to thee also, Thou art Peter, and upon this ' '*&<$ (Petra) will I build My Church, and the gates of Hell shall not prevail against it. I will give to thee the keys of the kingdom of Heaven, and what thou bindest on earth shall be bound also in heaven, and what thou loosest on earth shall be loosed also in Heaven."

In these words of Jesus the Catholic Church reads the document with which the Papacy was founded. They have played a fateful part in history for those who said yes, or said no, to them. Some have, not without a modicum of reason, questioned their authenticity* Some have looked upon them as a later interpolation with which the spiritual Roma domina wished to insure beyond the grave of Peter its leadership inside Christendom, the primacy of its bishop as the suc- cessor of Peter, and the power and authority of his position. In shore the primacy of the viceroy of Christ on earth is involved. But the reasons advanced are not compelling ones and have been undermined more and more by objective science which, quite unconcerned about whether its findings did ill or good to Rome, sought to learn the truth of the matter. To mention just one point: if Rome had really invented this statement during the second century, the declaration would have had a different form. It would surely have provided for words assuring to the successors of Peter equality with him and a tide to the same powers; for of these things the words of Jesus do not expressly speak. Only with difficulty could it have hit upon a pas- sage as natively Jewish as this passage in Matthew, nearly every word of which leads us back into the deeps of Jewish ideas and their Biblical expression.


The Aramaic spirit of its origin shines through the Greek of the Evangelists in this passage. When Jesus gives the first confessor of His Messianic mission the name "Kepha" and terms him the foundation of His new kingdom, He uses the language of a venerable ancient symbol. The myth of the sacred rock which has the heaven of God above it and the kingdom of death and destruction below it was the common property o the Old World. Gesarea itself must in all probability be looked upon as the illustration of a kindred sym- bolism. Above the grotto of Pan, from which one source of the Jordan arose, stood the holy rock on which the temple of Augustus had been built. The Old Testament and its Jewish interpreters spoke of men upon whom rests the Divine bidding under the symbol of a holy cosmic rock which, as a connection between the heavenly and the earthly worlds, affords approach to God above and shuts off the as- sault of the primitive flood which brings destruction from below. Thus Abraham, the Father of the Faith, was the fundament of the old law. In actuality, however, the, Jews still possessed the holy stone in Jesus' time. It was the slab of rock in the holy of holies in the Temple, on which the Ark of the Covenant had formerly rested. This signified the central point of the world, the nurturing heart of the earth, the place where God's presence was manifest, the gate of Heaven, the seal against the kingdom of death and of evil which struggled up from beneath.

In the symbolistic language of the later Judaistic view of life, Jesus was manifesting His resolve to make a new foundation and was at the same time laying down the position and function of Peter in that foundation. Opposition to the Temple is not expressed but is never- theless obvious. In simple language this is the meaning of what oc- curred: Jesus wishes to build a communion sundered from the old Jewish world. The fundament is to be this Peter, to whom the Father has given faith and the power to confess it not the Peter who when counselled by flesh and blood becomes "Satan" and seeks to put obstacles in the way of Christ and therewith of God's plan. To Peter, believing and illumined from on High, there is promised permanence and victorious resistance to the powers of darkness. To him there are given the keys to the Kingdom of Heaven: that is, the power to open and to close the heavenly gates. He has authority


to bind and to loose, which means (in the Rabbinical language of the time) the power to reach decisions in the sphere of teaching, permit- ting one view or forbidding another, and the right in the sphere of morals to impose or remove the ban. He proclaims this two-fold authority in God's name, and may therefore be assured of divine co- operation. But that Kingdom of Heaven of which he is the steward possessing the keys is Jesus' community the ecclesia, the Kingdom of Heaven, the newly created order of the Christ. Peter is the cosmic rock which stands athwart the tension of Heaven and Hell. Placed in the drama of a two-fold cosmic contradiction, open to in- fluences from above and below, he is called upon to preserve the order that reigns above against the powers of darkness.

Jesus died. In the eyes of the Jews and the Romans His death was the most ignominious of ends. He hanged Himself from the Cross as a kind of ghastly jest at His own expense. To the faithful, however, this was not the last view they were given of the Lord. They beheld Him again as the Risen One and Peter was the first of the disciples to whom He appeared transfigured. This occurrence cannot be expounded rationalistically. Therefore nothing is easier than to doubt it and to toss aside the narrative of the Gospels. But immediately there arises the question: what can have brought it about ' that in the same city of Jerusalem where this grave which was giving scandal existed a grave everyone could see for himself the fol- lowers of Jesus, an inconsequential minority sandwiched in between the scornful folk and the bitter ruling caste, should have managed to become a first community possessing inflexible faith, and able to main- tain itself so well as to spread its inner strength like fire over the world of Jews, Greeks and Romans? Some have listed a hundred causes in order to dispel the one incredible cause. There are so many of them that the insufficiency of all is proved. When there is question of the Resurrection, the faith of the non-believer and the faith of - the believer will always stand opposed. All we know is the message of the New Testament that the primitive community believed in the Resur- rection of Christ because of the testimony of those who had seen Him after His death. And the chief among them was Peter.

This first witness is entrusted with the leadership of the Messianic congregation which arises in Jerusalem. Its beginnings constitute a


complex interplay of energies bearing the germs of the new law. It dwells in the midst of the multiform and pliable religious life of the city without revealing any deep marks of isolation from Judaism. Like other schools and orders of Judaism, these believers in Christ remain faithful to the Temple and the law, merely celebrating their remembrance of the Master at their meetings. There they broke bread and passed the cup of wine as He had taught them to do. But a new mood now took possession of them. Their joyful sense of being God's children and their strong urge to fashion present and future according to the will of Jesus necessarily revealed the new tendencies of their communion. The orthodox Jews looked upon even their Greek-minded fellow Hebrews as opponents. Necessarily, therefore, the breach between them and a community which, like its Founder, held that the Temple would cease to exist could not be healed. Stephen, the nurse of the poor, fell a victim to this antipathy about the year 37 under the stones of the first persecution. His death did not lame, but rather fired the determination of those who believed in Jesus and had hope that He would soon return again. Now the preaching of the gospel was also directed to the heathen. Teaching and baptism in the name of Christ were to be offered all mankind. Paul was not the first to think so and act accordingly, though he was incomparably more successful than any before or after him. On the way to Damascus, Saul, who just a litde while before had watched with satisfaction the slaying of Stephen, had felt with certainty that the Voice which spoke out of the Vision he beheld testified that the Lord lived and influenced the ways of the world. The accounts give us no clarity, but in this experience there was securely founded his in- escapable destiny to preach the glad tidings to the whole world.

This meant putting the heathen on the same level with the children of Israel. The thought was unbearable to Jewish Christians. Even Peter sundered himself only gradually and hesitatingly from the law and the customs of his people's religion. It was only the free, daring example of Paul and his companions which pointed out to him the way to the mission among the uncircumcised. That he was deeply saturated with Jesus, His message and His Resurrection, the Acts of the Apostles show in their accounts of his actions and addresses. After the day of the Holy Spirit's coming he spoke before the High


Council which had summoned him to give an account of what was held to be a new false teaching. His sermon in the Solomon Hall of the Temple, his activity in the house of the mother of Mark on Mount Zion (the place in which die primitive community met) all this is a picture of one who is the unshakeably loyal confessor of His Master. But he would never have brought about the separa- tion of the young Church from the old Synagogue. Neither would the venerable James, the other pillar of the faith in Jerusalem ever have done so. Must not the heathen become a Jew and submit to circumcision and to the old law before being admitted into the Church? This question had become acute in Antioch, metropolis of Gentile Christianity, and the centre of the Pauline mission. The manner in which Paul freed the new faith from the Jewish way of living had wounded the very souls of the law-abiding who had gone there to see for themselves. Their reports caused a flurry in Jerusalem. To this city Paul had to come in the year 49 or 50 to give an account of his ac- tions before an assembly of the first Apostles. His appearance there denoted recognition of the authority of Peter and James but he knew also how to value his own position. He who gave Peter the power to be an apostle among the Jews, he says, also gave me the power to work among the heathens. The fruit he had already garnered, the gifts and proofs of the Spirit in his person and work, had to be recognized by Peter, James and John as the judgment of God. They gave Paul and Barnabas their right hands in sign of union. In return Paul promised to keep the bond of love toward the primitive community alive by gather- ing moneys for the poor of Jerusalem. Thus union was found in a for- mula of separation Paul was to go to the Gentiles and Peter to the Jews.

But the sources of tension were not therewith removed. The strong Jewish colony in Antioch was the scene of a far-reaching con- troversy among the followers of Jesus. The Syrian metropolis, so rich in luxury and movement, boasting of a night life illuminated bright as day and affording endless scope to Hephaistos and Aphro- dite, exemplified the decadent energies that arc born of a chaotic in- termingling of ideas and peoples. Into this city of tender music and dance, of exciting novels, of spiritual poverty in the midst of Syrian prodigality, where the cypresses whispered more wisely than men


spoke, Paul had cast the seed of the gospel. Barnabas and others had helped him. But his free attitude toward the heathen followers o the new religion roused the strict Judaists to battle. Circumcision, the Sabbath, regulations concerning cleansing and eating matters which meant nothing to the heathen Christian constituted a bar- rier in the shadow of which the love Jesus had established as the first principle of His kingdom could not well thrive. The fact that Paul had come back from Jerusalem with a decision favouring his point of view did not greatly improve the situation. For when Peter himself, in order to emphasize the brotherly union, appeared in Antioch and sat at table with the uncircumcised heathen Christians, the excited rigor- ists threw themselves upon him and compelled him to discontinue his commerce with the heathen Christians. Kepha, the chief of the disciples, who was nearest of all the twelve to the Master, no longer ate with those in the community of Paul, Could they be real, whole- hearted Christians if Peter frowned upon their kind? Even Barnabas, long since the friend and companion of Paul, went over to Peter's side. Now Paul saw his work threatened, and the idea of a universal Church betrayed to the narrow spirit of the old Synagogue. It would seem that Peter, pliable man of sanguine temperament that he was, had not been able to carry out the policy of unity and peace he so desired in the cross-fire of his sympathies for the brethren of this camp and for the brethren in that. So long as they were all devoted to the Master he was willing to allow to these their heathen associations and to those their Jewish heritage. Plainly he had the will to see the whole, but could not live up to his conviction. His way of hold- ing out a hand to both sides did not create unity but rather confirmed the separation. Paul realized that in this case only a hard appeal to a decision here and now could create union in the future. Either the law or Christ! He alone stood firm in this hour. Before a public assembly he resisted the Kepha face to face. If you, who are a Jew, live in the manner of the heathen and not according to the manner of the Jews, why do you wish to compel the heathens to live like Jews? We do not know what answer, if any, Peter made. Certainly in his heart he knew that the frowning Paul was right. Soon after this meeting he received Cornelius, a captain of the Roman garrison of Cacsarca (Palaestinensis) , into the Church.


On long journeys through Palestine, Central Asia and Greece, Peter preached the gospel. History shrouds his activities in darkness, only to throw those of Paul into brighter light. In his Epistles this Apostle immortalized himself, and with his person also the history of the young religion. He tells the story of the struggle of a new world to take form in the space of an old world and out of the materials of the old world. The simple image of the tree which must dig into the depths of earth, nurse of all nature, in order that, leaving this earth again as living life, it may win the heights on which in all truth it is just as dependent as on the dust, doubtless applies in essentials to the growing Church. We know how much driftwood it took from the stream of time in order to complete its world of ideas, its mysteries, its customs and its learning; but on the other hand everything that was assimilated was transformed according to the norm and character of the formative energies of the Church, The living tree is something else than the elements from which it lives, and the Church also was a giver in the act of receiving, was not merely the statue but the sculp- tor of the stone it took from the wayside.

Paul's conception of the ccclesia was conveyed by the image o body and soul. It is a simple picture but unfathomable. His time did not exhaust its meaning, nor have subsequent centuries done so* The Church is one living organic whole, needing the earthly and destined to form this according to the form of its own inner Fashioner, Christ Jesus. Those who surrender themselves to Him are the "holy people," the "communion of God." They are to be found here and yonder. The boundaries of states are not the borders of God's king- dom. The "union" of the "third generation'* of Christians cut across all distinctions between Greeks and Jews. It had a different attitude toward yesterday, today and tomorrow than did other religions, for it already lived close to the reality of God. It hovered over what had been and what was to be, even as does His spirit which gathers to- gether the running and tumbling waters of time into an everlasting now. Before God nothing is in motion: all things arc cradled in rest, To lie in Him, to cast the anchor of faith into the eternal waters, means to rise above the perpetual motion of history. But how is this truth to be grasped? How is it to be comprehended? Rejoice!


It has taken historical shape in Him who brought the kingdom of God to man. To man, mindful of himself, there has now appeared the Man God had in mind. As the Risen One, He has annulled the death verdict resting upon all that happens in time. He has tri- umphed over the world in every sense, for crumbled are now the nar- row confines of nature, of the transitory. Herewith fulfilment has come to all the quests of an unjustified, fearfully expectant world for salvation and illumination.

Henceforth Christ Jesus is the real meaning of history: He is the purpose of the past, the core of present experience, the container in Himself of the future as the norm and judge of all time. But whosoever belongs to Him in faith like unto His faith and in deed that rises out of His charity, which loves for love's sake and not because of the object though to be sure that object is necessary in order to make of a man a lover is in communion with Christ, is embodied in His Body. Of those who are so united and who live and act ac- cordingly, the Communion of Saints, the Divine Congregation of the Church, is formed. From the beginning of time she has been God's image of the true humanity. She has beheld eternally the Giver of her form (for that form He Himself is) with understanding eyes. This vision she will retain through all vicissitudes. She is His Body and she is as everlasting as the Body of the Eternal One who dwells in her.

Such trends of thought dominated early Christianity. By their very nature they drew men's gaze from the passing scene to the Church Herself. For how little is the slime of earth when likened to the Spirit which fashions it, and how precious is that slime through which alone the Spirit can manifest its existence and its essence! There- fore is renunciation of the world a tremendous thing, even as is the act of plunging into the very heart of the world.

The gods of Rome were old; and the new divinities which the city welcomed were merely such as rise when men already confront the deities with an incredulous smile. The added fact that the emperor was paid divine honours was not much more than a political gesture in which respect for the might of Rome, for its unity as the empire which transcended all peoples and gods, found expression. To the attempt to set up a colossal statue of Caligula in the Temple at Jeru-


salcm, the imprint of the spiritual image of Christ upon the hearts of the growing community of Rome seemed a fitting answer. The faithful of the Eternal City baptized others in His Name and cele- brated His Presence in the Last Supper. It was not the largest com- munity of the young Church; perhaps it was not even the fifth in size. But it was of the same spirit as the rest. That its faith, its administration of the charisma, its service to those in need, the forms of its cult, and the sacramental signs of its covenant with the Kyrios Jesus, were in conformity with the practice of the East was guar- anteed by the authority of its leadership. Nothing indicates that it went its own way in any important respect. The disturbance at Antioch had no sequel. Paul, always careful to teach others what he himself had been taught, patiently adhered to the conviction which had brought him to Jerusalem and to Peter before starting the work that would require the whole of his energies. He respected the prior rank of the Apostle who had been nearest to the Master and who after the Crucifixion had gathered the scattered flock of the Shepherd who had been stricken. When now the wave of enthusiasm had been carried westward by him and his companions, they could set the yeast of the gospel into the ferment and chaos of the Eternal City. Those were the days of Nero, After James, the pillar of Jerusalem, had fallen a victim to the Synagogue in the year 62, Jewry and hea- thendom alike proved fatal to the princes of the Apostles. On the igth of July, 64, a fire that lasted six days reduced ten of Rome's fourteen quarters to ashes. Rumour has it that the Emperor himself kindled the blaze. The people, however, insisted that the guilty ones be named and punished. Apparently the Jewish enemies of die Christians possibly also Poppea, Nero's wife and a friend of the JCTTS pointed to the weird new society of die Christian*. The emperor sacrificed them to the mob in droves at the public games in the Vatican gardens. Their living bodies were dragged across the field, maimed, burned and crucified. It may be that the reasons advanced for the persecution lay deeper. These people who "hated the human race" and practiced "a new and abominable religion" had already come into conflict with the law.

It was during these Christian persecutions that the two Aposdes also kid down their lives. The year is uncertain. According to


tradition, Paul, who had taken the Primacy from Jerusalem and given it to Rome, died by the Roman sword, while Peter was crucified with his head to the ground. Above their graves the deep twilight of the gods set in, and the second Roman Empire dawned.


The three centuries which followed the death of Simon Kepha had no conception of a sovereign in the cathedra Petri. The young Church, one and the same in East and West, believed that the throne of the world is in Heaven. Only quite gradually, in response to the demand that springs from the nature of earthly things, did it con- cern itself with the reflection of that heavenly throne established in the city consecrated by the life blood of the greatest witnesses to Jesus, and long since almost sacrosanct as the centre of the Roman world kingdom. The old Rome was transformed into a new Rome. But the Christian spring was fed also from the soil it had conquered. During the time between Nero and Constantine, the Church rook on a form which had necessarily to lead to Papal monarchy. Those were centuries of vigorous growth in the midst of deterioration. They may be compared to an irregular landscape lying under swift moving clouds which cast their reflection on a harvest scene but also upon the new seedlings hardly yet visible above the furrows which the harrow has smoothed over.

Such great political questions as authority, polity and the order of die community, ancient peoples pondered deeply because they had ex- perienced the importance of these things in their own personal lives. Tasks and ways of performing them come in cycles. This truth Plato had realized and expressed in his myth of the great wheel of cosmic necessity. Nevertheless, history up to the time of Christ does show that although moral ideas fell back again and again into the realm of natural brute force and instinct, there was a continuous strong move- ment toward purified thinking despite the fact that reality seemed so different from the ideal. At bottom the questions were: shall it be might or right, polis or cosmopolis (state or humanity) ? In answer- ing both the objective was ultimately to free the highest of values, the value of religion, from its entanglement in the mqan purposes o political, military and humanitarian action. In East and West the mighty struggle between political forms seems like a push onward to the solution which the Church (catholic in this respect also) found



in the all-embracing unity of Her organization. In order to under- stand how this Church came to be, one must bear in mind what it took over from the polity of antiquity and merged with its own inner form. Titus destroyed Jerusalem, but he could not destroy theocracy, the most powerful idea of the Jewish people. The old Israel of Moses* time survived the centuries as the most impressive instance of a human order proceeding directly from God. It had no human law giver, not even a human representative of the reigning Divinity. To obey the will of Jahwe and to keep the covenant with Him were deemed sufficient to insure living of right life a life which one received almost as immediately from Him as if He were still walking in Para- dise, Yet the people of the covenant were also a very human people who could want other things than those God had ordained. And what were God's ordinances? The tables of the Mosaic law could not always satisfy the faithful person who was scrupulously bent on doing what was right in the presence of Jahwe. The law was there- fore expounded, dissected and encrusted with paragraphs until at last the regulations were so numerous that it was impossible to heed them. Though great prophets sank wells deep into the primal glory so that there sprang forth waters purer even than those Moses had known, Israel no longer realized how precious they were. The spirit of man had invaded the Divine Order, had realized that it was free to dwell there or to leave. Theocracy failed, as it has always and everywhere failed. Nevertheless it hovers over its historical ruins as the eternal vista of desire. When Israel surrendered to life in its relative sense and demanded a king of Samuel, last of the Judges, it seemed that a feeling of deterioration, of feeding on substitutes, of being driven into a life of second-rate quality, had overpowered the best of the Jews. This one sees expressed in the Book of Judges, The ancient fable of Jotham casts its tragically powerful, satirical shadow on all monarchy and also on all men who do not know how to exist without an earthly master. The trees desire a king, but when they interrogate the healthy plants which live according to the nature God has given them, they meet with a rebuff. The olive, the fig and the vine are astonished. Can it be that their sap, their sweetness, their juice have lost their power, and that they must now be content to recline on the other trees? The question is then asked of the


thistle and it assents: "If you then really want to anoint me your king, settle down in my shade!"

The theocratic origins of states and their religions arc discernible on many pages of ancient history. Secretly and openly as well, thinkers and holy men felt a Utopian longing for a time when hu- man society would do what is right and good of its own accord, though they had long since realized that the highest political ideals come to grief because the human horde is always naturally virtuous only when it is not less than naturally virtuous. It lies in the nature of Utopia never to come true; and yet it is precisely the fact that it cannot be realized which gives it tremendous power. It is always a yonder and never a here. It can never be reached, and still it leads us on, lighting the way and begetting history like the pillar of fire into which Jahwe changed Himself so that He might go before His people in the days of their tribulation.

Accordingly the theocratic Utopia embodies a permanently valu- able truth: that earthly things are not in themselves ends, and that the highest nobility of mankind would consist in free submission to His will Who is the boundary and realm of all things. Insight into the dignity of this obedience to the unwritten but nevertheless universally evident law was by no means absent from the antique world. It was Plato's opinion that a state having not a god but some mere mortal as its ruler could not be saved from disaster and misery. It was nec- essary, he said, to appoint the immortal being in ourselves custodian of public as well as of private life. And Aristotle maintained that where this rule of the law-from-within prevails, God and reason are enthroned in sovereignty, and that those who desire that a man shall rule introduce the beast into political life. All the great poets and thinkers from Heraclitus, /Eschylus and Sophocles to the moralists of the Roman Imperial time are filled with a deep yearning that the common weal be fashioned according to the law of the godhead which is knowable to all men because it has been written in their hearts. Yet their pioneer efforts their veiled or open theocratic ideas prove only that the history which was being made roundabout them, a his- tory that consisted in constant progression from a new political form to a new crisis, could not be reconciled with theory. Men sensed and knew what is right, but what they did and what they suffered were


not in consonance with that right. Always Antigone met death at the hands of Creon. It was forever in vain that Socrates attempted to win Callicles over to the truth that our life as it speeds on and chafes insatiably at the bit is not the world as it should be, but rather the world as it ought not to exist.

The living religions of the Greeks and Romans were less imbued with theocratic ideas than were their political teachings. They were and remained systems which seemed to afford protection to a people's well-being. During the early age of tribal states, the King as the protector of justice and worship represented the god from whom his authority camd. Later a common feeling of solidarity expressed it- self in the god, who then in turn represented the state. In either case the religious relationship was always based on consciousness of a sanc- tioned superiority, to maintain which one expected the help of the gods one served. But with Alexander the Great a different situation arose. To the dislike of all true Greeks, including Aristotle who had coun- selled his famous pupil to make the Hellenes the ruling people of a new epoch and to deal with the Asiatics as if they were plants and beasts now given a master, the conqueror threw round himself a mantle studded with stars, and with the gesture of an Oriental god- king founded a universal reign superseding national boundaries. Thus the way was opened for a conception that all the peoples of earth formed one humanity. Yet the idea of a world monarchy always and everywhere met with resistance when men began to fear that it would bring about the loss of priority and render equalization immi- nent* Caesar, who laid claim to divine honours, took up the sceptre over the world against the will of the Romans. When the crown was given to Augustus, he was wisely cautious and refused to be a god- king or a king-god. As a priest-king or imperial-priest he united principality and pontificate civil and religious authority in his one hand. Therewith he represented the Roman people in the pres- ence of the gods. State worship was now designed to strengthen sentiment for the monarchy but also to surround the ruler himself with a sacred aura. The man who, while still alive, called himself Son of the Gods, Augustus, the Holy One, who was exalted above the sphere of the mortal and the subservient, received after death the honours of apotheosis. The Romans could honestly feel that thek


saviour and liberator had escaped from the peril o deterioration to the lap of the gods. Now the genius of the living emperor was considered holy and that of the dead emperor was consecrated at a ceremony which loosed toward heaven an eagle, symbol of his spirit, from over a burning wax image of his person. Thus the cult of the ruler maintained its virility and became the imperial religion a bond fostering unity. Of course this sapped the strength of the older, deeper faith even while it overshadowed the new cults and mysteries. But it preserved the concept of imperial authority de- spite the fact that this authority was formless and inwardly hollow and that some of those who exercised it were utterly without dignity. The man who bore the tide of emperor might not be holy but his office nevertheless was. This the people honoured whether the pur- ple had been inherited or stolen, whether he who ascended the throne had previously been the son of a slave, a cowherd, or a Sirmian peasant, whether he had been elected by the senate, elevated by the legions, or pushed to the fore by feminine jealousy. The emperor was the emperor because his office was an office sacrosanct and far beyond the reach of contamination by any despicable person who held it. This realistic faith in a universal, spiritual something as a reality of primary sovereign importance transcending the stream of time came into the possession of the young Church as a heritage from antiquity, and defending it has remained an essential task throughout all the cen- turies of Catholic history.

Nevertheless Christian judgment had always been passed on the Empire: give to Gesar what is Caesar's and to God the things that are God's, This saying, so rich in consequences, was not a revolu- tion. It was more than a revolution! Jesus did not quiver with the bitter hatred which His fellow Jews bore toward the Roman rule, but from a higher point of vantage He wrote Rome and Jerusalem on the same line. In both places the new order that in which all things are dependent on God clashed with earthly dominion, whether it was the real Empire of Rome or the hoped-for Kingdom of Israel. For the law of Christ's Kingdom was not concerned with extending control over the level plain of earthly things, but with digging deep to the places where the power of God sunders good from evil In it salvation depends only on moral decision, not on political forms or


civil power. His disciples are not to be like those that think they rule while playing the masters and doing violence to their subjects. Hereafter, in the all-changing ordering of things, greatness and dis- tinction will rest in the freedom of man who transcends himself by having God only for his master and for his neighbour one like unto himself. This was the gospel of Jesus which, without impinging upon the imperial authority, was a negation of the fundamental as- sumption of the Empire. It was a declaration of separation from the theoretical theocracy of law and from political messianism.

The new message of the coming of Heaven to earth, of the victory of the eternal in the realm of visible time, was a development of Old Testament theocracy in the spirit of its pristine purity, but added unto it was a new beholding of God and of the relationships between Him and man, His image. Thus the law was fulfilled, not abrogated. In quite the same way the historical evolution whicli led to cosmopolis and empire prepared soil in which there could take root a super-political religion embracing all mankind. Indeed, even the political theories entertained during the earlier stages of that evolution afterward spread like life-giving veins through the body of the Church. Much which then took form necessarily seemed a departure from the Founder's spirit, but the logic of history is not within man's power to control, nor is he permitted to give permanence to any single moment. The whole meaning of time is not isolated on the stage of the theatre nor in the scene of the play we witness. If the movement of historic life takes on logic and consecutiveness when we see that events move toward Christ no matter how violently opposed some may be to His mission, it is then also easy to look upon the fully developed Church from the vantage-point of certainty that the laws of conflict require that every progress toward higher form must be hewn out of the ma- terials of a contradiction. Though man has no freedom in the world of nature to say "Yes" and "No," he has that freedom in the moral order, which cannot be realized without his co-operation. Satan had already been judged, had been cast out into darkness, had been put in bondage by the Kingdom of Gbd and the men who established that Kingdom. Nevertheless Satan remained the prince of this world the restless antagonist of the Kingdom of God, whose dominion he continued to manifest through the very fact that he had been con-


quered. Satan had fallen from Heaven like lightning, and yet there was given to him the power to winnow the disciples. And the one disciple who succumbed to him dipped his fingers into the same dish with the Master. Thus it was that primitive Christianity understood and read the Gospel, and exactly thus has the Church preached that Gospel through all times, whether of ignominy or of glory.

The worldwide peace of the Empire had not been a social peace, nor had it brought rest to the human heart. Though there was an abundance of earthly goods, man cried out for salvation. Every one of the Oriental enthusiasts and mystagogues who landed in the har- bours of Pozzuoli or Brindisi could expect to find a market in Rome for his teachings. The world they confronted there was not one of urban vice but of the collapse of social and civic life. Capital was the true master of all. It did violence to justice. It destroyed the rich and oppressed the poor. Luxury brought forth nihilism, and hunger did likewise. There were vast estates and usury, slave trade and mass misery, an army of mercenaries which served the business of war and from which the citizen cut himself free with money, a private justice out of which there had developed a code of egoism, and a plutocratic politic based on the ability to buy power. These were ills to which no legislator could call a halt, and which no god any longer drove away. Even the few rulers of great format were powerless to heal this inner moral illness, Hadrian, the most impressive figure of them all, was only a nervous ruler of a house in peril. He spread his vast genius like a protective mantle over the garnered heirlooms of the Latins, the Greeks and the Semites, and joined Greece and Rome in a brilliant cosmopolite union. And still this eternally travelling, administrat- ing builder, this almost sleepless worker, seemed in the end to be a man running away from himself and able to endure the bearing of his own heart only when he could lose himself in the world of affairs.

Meanwhile an empire was growing very quietly inside the Empire. As soon as there was a David to confront this Goliath of Rome, the giant's fate was sealed if the youthful opponent could find the spot at which the armour was weak. The civil authorities saw clearly that the Christians were a menace. They were measured by entirely dif- ferent standards than those which were applied to protagonists of other new cults. Long after the time of Hadrian the Christians were


a sect that stood outside the pale of the law. Their God did not per- mit Himself to be placed in the Pantheon like the other deities of conquered peoples, but like a sovereign He came as One who ruled over all and held everything in His hand. Nor was He the God of any people: He crossed the boundaries of nations and mustered in each the citizens of His super-kingdom. The Christians prayed for Emperor and Empire, but they did not venerate Csesar. They re- fused to render military service and they despised the gods of Rome. In the Roman sense of the term, they were atheists, thus disrupting the sacred foundations of the state and bringing on themselves the blame for public disasters. The worried emperors resorted to persecution in its severest forms, but the power of the Christian enemy could not be destroyed with the sword. Though there were a host of apostates who hoped to seem once more what they no longer were, their numbers availed nothing. The persecuted majority did not lose courage, nor were those who fell aught else than the bearers of an example urging others to resist. It was just as impossible to stifle in blood the convic- tions of a society which looked upon the day a martyr died as his birthday in eternal life, as it was to alter the truth of the dictum of Greek tragedy that life is an act of dying, and that to die means to live. Proscription strengthened the Christian community. The storm which arose from pagan culture passed over it like a life-bringing tem- pest, the winds of which bore seed. The Church had received no mandate either to open its doors to that culture or to close them against it. Vigorous tension characterized that Church from the be- ginning: in it were fought out conflicts between light and darkness, faith and unbelief, fall and resurrection, life and death, heaven and hell. Since, therefore, its consciousness had metaphysical breadth, it possessed the strength and the inner poise needed when the impact of the surrounding world made it imperative that whenever anything was offered by that world which was assimilable to its own inner form it welcomed the accession while repudiating all else. Many shadows fall upon its young growth. Its writings contain yellowed pages, like last year's leaves on spring trees, but the proofs of their power still lie hidden for the most part even as does the virility of roots or seed pods just bursting. The world then had enough of handicraft and of intellectual achievement. Foundations, walls, palaces, basilicas


still ascended from the level plain. Philosophers, among them the noble Plotinus who dwelt in rapt ecstasy upon the life of the High- est One, erected systems destined to endure as long as the stones of Rome. Yet nothing that was thought or done any longer appealed deeply to this hectically smiling generation. Now the message of man's true salvation spread among the peoples. It was as if a warm gulf-stream, richer in salt and in the blue of the sky, rippled through the cooler ocean, joining the surrounding waters but not blending with them, beneficently affecting even the distant areas of the conti- nent.

As soon as that seemed necessary Rome exacted leadership in the Church. Nothing could have been more natural than that a com- munity which extended from Spain to the Nile and the Euphrates, should have sought to establish a ruling centre. Equally natural was the claim to being that centre which was put forward by the principal city of the Empire. There Peter and Paul were buried. It testifies to the primeval unity and solidity of the widely-spread Christian con- gregations that they only gradually and at first only very seldom con- cerned themselves with the leadership of the Roman sister community or appealed to it for a decision. Yet earlier Rome had apparently of its own initiative raised its voice in the conscious feeling that it possessed the primacy. During this same time, near the close of Domitian's reign, when the Jewish author of the Apocalypse was rallying Chris- tianity against the beast with powerful imagistic language, and when the last great historian of Rome, Cornelius Tacitus, was inditing books so weighted down with foreboding, Clement, bishop of Rome, felt called upon to address the authors of a conflict in the Corinthian Church. This letter is instructive as being the expression of the strong zest for order which from the beginning had characterized the Church, and which now (about the year 95) would unite communities that had been organized as oligarchies under a higher leadership of the whole Church by the Roman See. Clement's letter begins: 'The Church of God, which is seated like a stranger in Rome, to the Church of God, which is seated in Corinth."

The whole document is stamped with the will of one who desires to teach men how to live in the City of Jesus Christ. Primitive en- thusiasm had naturally died down, the spirit of the community had


seemed willing to conform gradually to the ordinary laws of human association so that mere humdrum earthly realities could have their part in the Christian life and the peril of ecstatic self-immolation be warded off. Charisma was now no longer a tongue of fire coming suddenly from heaven, but the simple implication of every personal gift and situation. Strength but also weakness was charisma it sought to be riches but also poverty. In a spirit of solidarity, Chris- tians should seek to equalize their charisma. The strong were to help the weak and the weak were to obey the strong; the rich were to give to the poor and the poor were to pray that a blessing might rest upon their benefactors. The anarchy of all mere urges, the re- ligious urge also, is now subordinated to the desire for form. The words congregation, corpus (society in the sense of the Roman law) , unity, order, sound almost like military terms. Paul, too, had drawn upon the language of the army and of the world of sport in order to characterize the manner in which the inner man must now respond to the commands given by Christ. But the Roman Bishop writing forty-three years later had good reason to set the example of the army before a communion of saints spread over the whole world, divided among nations, threatened by all cults, schools, myths and systems. Thus would the whole receive an impulse to discipline and unity. Christ sent from God is the King. He in turn sent forth His disci- ples, and these disciples selected elders and bishops who in turn chose their successors in office. It is as if a heritage passed from hand to hand, with the assent of the whole community it is true, but not by reason of their choice. The office proceeds from the King, is a power beyond the ken of men, but is lodged in the bearers and after them in the succession of those who receive it and pass it on. The leaders, like their King, also issue commands. Their law, the canon, is the written or oral tradition of faith. Yet Clement speaks as the Bishop of Rome, in the tone of a higher authority. True enough he still spoke in the name of his community when asking for obedience to the coun- sels advanced in his letter. Herewith the foundations of the Catholic Church, which rest on Jewish, antique and primitive Christian ground become plainly visible. They are the rules of faith, the apostolic or- igin and dignity of the episcopal office, the hierarchical ordering of the representatives of the Divine authority who are sundered from the


lay folk, and the claim of Rome to a leading position in the union of Christian communities.

But it was not only a Roman who thought and felt thus. Bishop Ignatius of Antioch, a Syrian of mystical fervour who was at that time travelling to his death as a Roman martyr, wrote a letter to the com- munities from which he was parting. In this there is a picture of the Church which contains all the features of Clement's Roman letter. Even beyond that Ignatius, trembling with anxiety lest all churches in the East and West should lack unity, used for the first time the name for the whole Church which was to remain its title forever. Where the Bishop is, there also shall the people be, just as the Cath- olic Church is there where Christ is; but the seat of priority in this confederation of love shall belong to the Roman community.

The subterranean resting places of the dead offer a symbol of the inner unity in which the living faithful were gathered. These mass graves of the catacombs, long forgotten, rediscovered by a subsequent age and even now replete with puzzles which scholars work at and sometimes solve, indicate through pictures and inscriptions what was written in the hearts of many generations which sought comfort for themselves in the glory of that better world to which their dead be- loved had gone. What they sketched on the walls down there in the stifling air and the silence, were pictorial symbols of the things they believed, hoped and loved. They may have used antique forms, old or new symbols; but their straight-forward language is on the whole no riddle. A little art sufficed to voice the conviction that the Salva- tion of men had appeared the true Master and Shepherd of souls and of peoples. It is all dominated by an apocalyptic mood of realiza- tion that in the turbulent womb of the present there stirs eternal reality, glorious and precious, though none might know whether it would be born in the room of time or revealed as the true life only through death.

But this mood was evoked by an experience of historic events con- stantly swaying up and down, hither and thither, like a sea shaken by a strong wind. It was eminently necessary that youthful Christianity, in itself from the beginning everything else but simple, should find a strong, dependable centre on which it could rest amid the eddies of time and thus find a form consonant with itself. And it was histori- cally logical, therefore, that the Papacy should be based on the See of


Peter. These things as well as the inner meaning of the history created by the Papacy can be best understood if one is really aware of the poles between which life moves within and without the Church. It then becomes evident that Christianity would never later on con- front opposites more dissonant, or a tension more violent, than it faced in the days when it was first seeking a pathway through the world.

The books of the New Testament agree in affirming a strong re- solve to renew the foundations of the contemporary world. And yet when Paul and the author of the Apocalypse speak of political things they are as disparate as are a peaceful mission and a charge across battlefields. Both points of view continue to find expression through- out the first three centuries of Christendom. Heathen contemporar- ies, even the best and most mature among them, regard the new religion as rebellion, collapse and social peril of the gravest kind. That its own volcanic energy did not become fatal to the new religion may be attributed, humanly speaking, to this resistance from the antique world which assured Christianity the materials for its self- realization, its rebirth of men and things, and its establishment of a firm foundation on which to carry on. It triumphed over Rome, but this Rome could have been conquered only by another Rome. Both powers penetrated each other, but neither lost its identity. Because of the opposition, which nothing has destroyed or will destroy, the Church and the Papacy live under the sign of a conflict which testifies to their unceasing vitality and reveals the nature of their mediation between time and eternity.

So it was from the beginning. In the Emperor and his power Christians beheld brute apotheoses of man and of the dust over which he rules. Nevertheless the new Kingdom from above, which here and now was to be established among men, had to assume the form of a kingdom and govern what was human in its domain with the means required by all human government. Though the Christian Emperor is the supernatural Kyrios Christos, whose rule is mystical and whose kingdom is not of this world, it is nevertheless this world which must be fashioned to resemble His own. Needed are heralds and executors of His law. A visible likeness must be found for His invisible majesty; and His reign has need of an authorized viceroy. When the conquering Church accepted Empire and Emperor as its models, k


ran a great risk. Since this was a world which gave the Emperor things that are God's, the temptation arose to give to God what was given the Emperor, and in the same way. The Kingdom of Heaven which the Galilean had founded yearned towards fulfilment, but the Imperial state in which this fulfilment was to occur forced the simple Dove to become cunning as the serpent. This was the first profound contradiction in the bosom of the Church, and on it Jesus has looked with scorn. Satan could not be driven out with Satan; and a house divided against itself could not stand. A second contradiction was associated with this the contradiction between the Gospel and antique civilization. Both had arisen from religious sources, and the conflict which followed the first confluence of the two realms was very soon looked upon as a quarrel between lovers. The New Testament went its way among the peoples in the common Greek language. Its authors, though virtually all Jews, were not without contact with the thought and the language of pagan culture. When Paul spoke of the "community," he approximated to the political consciousness of the Greeks.

The fourth Gospel opens in the style of Heraclitus. The image of the shepherd and sheep, representing pastor and souls, the sacred signs of bread and wine, were held by Christians in common with the devotees of strange mysteries. Already Paul, and after him many another, had to give warning that Christian must not be confounded with heathen. As Jesus drank from the jug of the pagan woman at the well, the first thinkers of the young Church, which was still so dependent upon urban culture for its terminology, wore the phi- losopher's mantle and discoursed upon the great ideas in the for- mula: in which Socrates, Plato and the Stoics sought to phrase the prob- lems of God, the world and humankind. That objects situated in space and time are only shadows of spiritual reality; that the cosmos rests upon the bosom of Eternal Reason, which orders all things and gives them a purpose: these declarations sounded like ancient fore- bodings of the truth acclaimed in the New Testament. Yes, the Christ who is eternal and who from the beginning spoke as the eternal Logos to the heart of mankind, appeared in human form in Jesus, who is the Revealer and Fulfiller of ideas and intuitions which at the very beginning were given to the human soul but were then half blotted


out by sin and error. He is the Educator of the human race, the true Orpheus who brings all that is savage into submission with a song that song which in the beginning of time created the harmony of the spheres. Reason is His Image and acting in accordance with reason is the ethic and the aesthetic of Christian life. The first to seek to harmonize the ancient powers of the intellect and the new powers of the soul inside a Catholic Church which opened its arms wide to all things divine and human, were Clement of Alexandria and Origen his great disciple.

Both of them were speculative Easterners. It is true that they all but brought the Gospel into subservience to Greek philosophy, but the movement they fostered which the Roman West halted at the right time bequeathed to the whole Church something of great and enduring value. What Paul and John had begun now reached an initial state of perfection. The intellect was summoned to explore the greatest secret of history; science flung itself upon the cosmos of faith. Antique confidence in the strength and dignity of 'reason united itself with the new self-assertion of the soul, and in a time when man despaired of man cleared the path which led to a human- ism in the name of Christ, who was God become Man. Christen- dom surmounted the danger of becoming merely a religion of the slaves and the "lower classes." A faith in the providential guidance of all mankind and its spiritual life, a belief in the unity and con- cordance of histoty, preserved the antique world for the present and the future by reason also of God's word present in it. A cargo of philosophy alone the Church could not have borne. The religion which it was to teach the world was both deed and teaching, not teaching only. Some adopted it because it reasoned in the manner of Plato; others came because they were tired of Plato and wished to exchange speculation for salvation, and Eros for charity. Was not culture declining throughout the Empire because it had become com- mon property and no longer quenched the ultimate thirst? Many a pious person looked upon the ancient thinkers as gossips and sophists who in the empore on the Nile were given honours due those who taught Christ. The Church faced the peril of either sacrificing re- ligion to culture or of sacrificing culture to religion. That was the second conflict of powers that demanded a solution.


The third, the deepest of all, had its roots in the bosom of the Church itself. It arose then, it has arisen since, and it will arise again and again as long as Christendom remains a human society. It re- sults from the fact that there is a conflict between the rights of the individual and those of society, as a whole, between things as I sec them and as they are in themselves. This kind of man and that kind of man both confront the Church and expect it to be the exact image of themselves. But it was called to embrace all men, even as they all were called to it. In it there shall be many mansions, even as there are in the Heavenly Father's House, who has made not one like unto another; and nevertheless the Church, in order to exist at all, had to become one only fold for the flock of the One Shepherd. If men had had their way, this house would have fallen into ruin and out of the debris hut after hut would have been built according to each one's desire. During the second and third centuries, the grow- ing confederation of Christian communities saw that danger lay in luxuriant growth, in the diversity of peoples and races from East and West who now belonged to the Church. Enthusiasm disrupted the bonds of law, negation of the world looked with hostility upon affirma- tion of the world. Knowledge strove against faith, untrammelled feeling resisted the compulsion of the norm, the God who lived in the individual heart seemed at odds with the God who lived in the law and the priesthood. Every group appealed to Christ and in- sisted that it was His Church. During this difficult contest of forces and men, the mystical body of Christ resisted all pressure from with- out and took on its Catholic form (we shall see what that form is) , and the Church in Rome became the authoritative guide of all others.

The primary concern was for unity of faith and thought as the determining characteristics of Christian life. Debating the great ques- tions of the time, men reached irreconcilable answers. Did this world hail from God, or did it spring from evil? How can the evil in it be reconciled with God's holiness? Is not man the one and only being, himself his God and the inner meaning of heaven and earth? 'Should not all flesh be gainsaid for the spirit's sake, or are flesh and matter so remote from God and the spirit that where they have dominion there is no sin? Who was Jesus and in what sense was He the Christ, the Son of God? A flood of theosophic cults arose between the years


1 20 and 1 60 in the form of the Gnostic mass movement. This did not well up suddenly, it was a compound of Greek, Jewish, Persian, Egyptian and Babylonian speculation a potpourri of systems which met, separated and subsided as do the waves. Its waters splashed upon the deck of the vessel of die Church and carried some of its treas- ure overboard. The ark of Christ had never been in such peril of the sea. There were moments when the waves seemed to cover it. Was not Gnosticism Christendom? And was not Christianity Gnos- tic? Many an eye lost sight of the difference between the two.

In Rome, too, the Church beheld the visage of her rival one of many such rivals when Marcion appeared there between 130 and 140. He was the son of a bishop dwelling in the region of the Black Sea, a shipbuilder and a well-to-do man. He gave the Roman Church the equivalent of $10,000, perhaps with the object of removing doubts as to the genuineness of his profession of the Catholic faith. He established contact with the Gnostic leaders in the metropolis; and the Church demanded that he submit to its leaders a written profes- sion of faith. This he did, but it was not his final statement. At heart neither a Christian nor a Gnostic, in the sense that he belonged either to the Christian community or to a Gnostic group, he formed his own teachings out of materials taken from both camps. This was far above the level of current piebald and fantastic systems. It pleased the earnest by being both strict and comforting, it directed words of serious counsel to the frivolous, and enkindled hope in the hearts of die despairing. The Gospel, said Marcion, is a new message to the world, which far surpasses all others, but it has nothing in common with the religion of the Jews. The Old Testament and its law must be thoroughly repudiated, for its God and the God of Jesus are antagonistic deities. The One is the creator of this evil world is jealous, vengeful toward rivals, a Giver of exacting laws, just to the point of cruelty. But above Him and His faulty creation there dwells the God who is really almighty and good: who docs not punish or scold, who is a distant, unfathomed, strange God of whom we should know nothing had it not been for His revelation in Jesus. He is the God of all comfort, as Paul says. He is the stronger, is the Master of the other whose creation He destroys. Jesus, the good God in human form, brought His gende law to a humanity which though


weak is good at heart. After He had arisen He revealed to Paul, His only Apostle (for the other twelve were mere pretenders, faithless to their trust) the true Gospel of justification through faith without works. The true Christian lives without fear because his God summons no man to judgment. He obeys because he loves. He does not think in terms of reward and punishment. Yet this freedom must not be misunderstood. Let all fast, eating fish and vegetables, and let all abstain from every sexual action, including marriage, which is mere lust, since matter is the source of all evil, and flesh is the spring from which all sin flows. Begetting and being begotten merely lengthen the rime during which the evil world of the Creator God can endure. Only he who renounces these things is ripe for baptism, nor must he expect that virtue will be rewarded here below. The beatitudes arc given to the "poor." The real believer must be prepared to experience misery and suffering, even though he mirror God's love for him in his own kindness toward the rest of men.

Such were the ideas of the first reformer. He repudiated all books of the Sacred Scriptures which did not fit into his system, and those he accepted he expounded in his own way. Thus he established free biblical inquiry. Personal Christianity now existed side by side with universal Christianity. The founder of a sect had termed his work the true and better Church. Therewith the Roman community saw a movement arise and grow, which surpassed in strength all the dis- sident cliques, lodges and esoteric schools. The breach came during the summer of 144. The Presbytery under Bishop Pius demanded of Marcion that he renounce his errors, excommunicated him, and re- turned the money he had given. His followers regarded this day as the founding-day of their counter church. Once when the aged Polycarp met Marcion he answered the latter's query if he knew him by saying, "Yes, I know the first-born of Satan!"

The ship-owner's church maintained itself long and impressively against the Church of the Fisherman. Yet Catholicism gained in firmness and awareness of its own powers as a result of this struggle* It would also profit by later similar struggles. It answered the theory of a supreme God and a subordinate God by proclaiming the unity of God who is good and just, manifest in grace and law. Against the teaching that broke up history into conflicting acts of good and evil


principles, it established the doctrine of the unity of history. It grew more clearly aware of the law of its own form; and because it warded off the attack of alien forces, recognized as such in the light of tradi- tion, it was able to formulate a definition of heresy. This term had been applied to sectarianism and false teaching already in the New Testament. Even the aged Plato had phrased in The Laws his re- pudiation of heresy and contentiousness, his endorsement of unity and truth, with such passionate conviction that compared to his contempt for merely individualistic doctrines and his condemnation of those who desire novelty at any price, the Church's condemnation of irre- ligion and free thought seemed the mild reproaches of a mother to her children. She could not hesitate to expel from her midst what was alien and incompatible if she possessed a real character, a form and a law o life. Thus the Church appears from the beginning as a formed so- ciety, firmly knit and carefully defined. Roundabout her there ex- tends the kingdom of continuous becoming wherein the spirit follows its whim and sows wheat and weeds together. The expanding Church may absorb much of what is outside and may thus really or conceivably be in peril of laxity that verges on worldliness. Or in the act of repudiation she may risk becoming narrow and rigid. Ever since the days of the Gnostics and therefore almost from the very begin- ning the Church has had to wrestle with the opposition of the continuously modern, which is free thought and the right to heretical opinions* This modernity has always sought to find a way into the Church, thus proving that the Church is strong. The fact that all heretics seek primarily to conquer Rome demonstrates that they know who is the helmsman of the Ship.

The priority of the Roman Church in the Empire did not, however, imply all those rights of the Bishop of Rome which later times associate with the Papacy. An incident which occurred about the year 190, in the time of relative quiet which followed the persecutions of Marcus Aurelius, showed clearly that the will to govern was characteristic not only of the Roman community but also of Rome's Bishop in person. Yet the same incident testifies also to the resistance offered by the Eastern Churches. There some Churches celebrated the Feast of Easter on the day of the old Jewish Passover. Elsewhere, also in Rome, it was customary to observe the Feast on the Sunday following. A


generation previous die aged Polycarp had not thought it too much trouble to journey to Rome in order to discuss the problem with his fellow priests. It was impossible to reach an agreement and so it was decided that both days were proper. But later the Bishop of Rome endeavoured to enforce unity of observance, basing his position on a synodal resolution which decreed the excommunication of the non-conforming Churches. This somewhat dictatorial attitude was resented by the Asiatics. They answered that the Bishop should re- main mindful of peace, harmony and brotherly love. The old Bishop of Ephesus dealt lightly with this Roman decision: One mightier than he had said that God must be obeyed rather than man. Pope Victor was also counselled not to place whole congregations under the ban because they clung to an ancient traditional custom by Irenaeus of Lyons, though this bishop had advocated die priority of Rome more vigorously than anyone before his time. His pen had rendered busy service in the struggle against the Gnostics, These, he said, built not upon the One Rock, but upon quicksand in which there were many little stones. This defense against them rested firmly on the teaching and the custom which prevailed everywhere in the churches of the East and West. Though he was born in Asia and kept sacred the remembrance of Polycarp, John's disciple and the unforgettable light of his own early years, throughout his mature and later life in the Occident he sought to bring about unity under the monarchical au- thority of the Roman Church. Rome had always been, he said, the central point of the whole Church as well as the source of unity in belief; and so it was meet that each congregation, that is, the faithful in each place, should acknowledge its higher authority. Irenaeus himself decided to conform to Roman usage in the Easter observance, but he nevertheless petitioned the Romans to exercise clemency in matters that did not affect unity of belief. Victor was unable to prevail, but a hundred years later, when at least a part of the East conceded this point, his deeper political insight was borne out.

Inner Christian tension of thought as well as of living sometimes evoked crises in which an authoritative pronouncement was necessary. The cathedra Petri> more and more conscious of the rights that grew out of its priority, felt itself called upon to make these pronouncements and therewith automatically became a sign of contradiction.


Though much that occurred during the century prior to Constantine may seem merely the bickering of prelates and theologians, there was really taking place below the surface a ferment the settling of which into a genuinely Catholic wine must henceforth be the unceasing concern of the Church. The forty or fifty peaceful years between Caracalla's reign and the universal persecutions under the Emperors Decius and Valerian (who already confronted a state within a state so powerful that Decius could say he would be less concerned over a rival emperor than over a new bishop) were times when Christianity grew stronger and in which the Roman community came to number about 150 clerics of higher and lower rank. Then some of the Popes (for this word was already used) , began to advocate vigorously the idea of Roman primacy. This conformed with their responsibilities in the shadow of imperial Caesar and in the city whence the Empire was ruled. In this sense spoke Calixtus, the bishop whom the Roman authorities held under grave suspicion but had freed from bondage. He quoted as the basis for his claim Christ's words to Peter. Stephen I and Dionysius were likewise not averse to upholding the authority of Rome in matters of teaching. Yet Rome was, then as well as later on, not so much the creator as the guardian of religious life, which seems to grow most abundantly outside the city in fields of greater fertility. If one wishes to list the foremost Christian personages of the third century, one must begin with the Africans, Cyprian and Tertullian, who also represented the two divergent attitudes of objec- tive Catholicism and personal romantic religion. During the conflict which they engendered and brought to a solution, the Church began to formulate a new definition of its nature.

There was a generation's difference of age between the two Africans. Tertullian, who in his early years had been the steward of an estate in Rome, abjured heathenism after a youth of excesses. Cyprian, teacher of rhetoric, was nearly fifty when he became a Christian about 246. Two or three years later he was consecrated Bishop of Carthage. The writings of the elder were to be the daily bread of the younger man: and yet each one's life work was as a whole as different from the other's as were their personal characters. Common to both was the chialistic mood: resistance against a world caught in the bondage of evil, a desire to reconstruct all in the Christian sense, and opposition to the forces


which sought to degrade the Living God into a human idea or to divide Him into mythical opponent deities, whose prey was the world. Nevertheless human differences made one the antithesis of the other in a number of ways. Tertullian was of a passionate and unsettled nature, unable by reason of his very gifts to acquire form or to give form to other things. The flame which consumed him blew hither and thither, seeking victims for his combative passion. Retiring into himself he could write most beautifully about patience, yet it is just as if a sick man were talking of health. The sensory world was his element, so much so that for him, too, the eternal spirit of God was inconceivable apart from a body. On the other hand the manner in which everything spiritual is tangled up with the flesh Carthage, the heathen atmosphere, the bedraggled world which had pushed itself through the gates of the Church aroused in him a feverish longing for escape from the realm of sense. And so he (like so many of his followers) looked back longingly at the pure simplicity of the primitive. The beginnings of the Christian world had already become so remote that a romantic spirit could be tempted to yearn for the true and im- maculate greatness of yesterday. This romanticism struggled in Ter- tullian's soul with a rationalism which recognized the necessity of historical development.

In powerful, brilliant apologies for Christianity and in calmly rea- soned tracts against heresy, he took heed of the imperfection of all earthly things, which since they have been created have the defects that are inherent in the process of becoming, and urged patience in the presence of God who lets ripen for us through the seasons what in Him- self, who is hidden from our view, is already finished and perfected. Yet Tertullian the thinker did not prevail in the end over Tertullian the man of passion. He cursed heathenism but also came to blows with the Church of his day. He detested the dead weight of human nature that was so obvious in the Church's structure. With Stoic faith he had sensed the divine nerve of the cosmos. He had written the immortally great dictum that the soul is naturally Christian. But now he refused to be patient with the moment in Christian history contemporary with himself. He yearned to fling the wheel of time back to the glory of Christian origins, or hurry forward toward the


judgment that is to follow at the world's end. He summoned the divine pneuma upon a nature unredeemed. The storm from on high shall, he vowed, tear the Christian loose from his slothful self. Revela- tion has not ceased, it never will cease to be given as an exciting dis- covery to him who has renounced living in the world. Away, there- fore, with science, with art, with games, and with gymnastics. He frowned likewise on military service, flight from persecution, and re- marriage after the spouse's death. Tertullian, the enthusiast, would preach a Church of the spirit against the Church of bishops and priests. He severed himself from the Catholic community and joined the party of the Rigorists who owe their name and ideal to the sombre Phrygian Montanus. Tertullian, prophet of an anarchical Christianity seeking direct individual communion with God, hated the hierarchical Church to the end. Contesting its power to bind and to loose, he hurled one of the last of his frigidly sarcastic declarations at the Roman Ponti- fex Maximus Calixtus, Bishop of all Bishops, accusing him of for- giving unforgivable sins, such as adultery and fornication. The Church is indebted forever to her greatest Apologist before Augustine's time, but he was also the greatest of apostates prior to Luther. Ter- tullian was the creator of her style. But the danger which he personi- fied, the danger of destruction in the name of God, was also rightly discerned by the Papacy, as time has shown.

Cyprian was a man of the world and remained one after he had become a man of the Church, He was solid, pious, cultivated the virtus Romana in Christian form. As a teacher and shepherd he gave his time the perfect definition of Catholicism. Latin genius gave her the basic text of a political order which the Greek East could not have provided. A decade of catastrophes proved Cyprian's mettle as a born leader in public life. During the persecution of Deems, com- pared with which all those which had preceded were mere pogroms, the new bishop fled from Carthage in 249. His reason for doing so was to keep his flocks from being without a shepherd. Many now doubted his courage, but he soon found opportunity to demonstrate that. He ruled his diocese from his hiding place and saved whatever could be saved. During the peaceful reigns of the Syrian emperors, many had flocked into the Church; and now, under the blows of the


flail, they flew as chaff does from the wheat. This was characteristic of Rome, Carthage and the Empire as a whole. After the storm was over, many who had lapsed wished to be Christians again. How were they to be dealt with? Were they to be cast off forever? Were they to be accepted on the petition of confessors of the Faith who had earned a kind of consecration and authority by their steadfastness under torment, or was it sufficient that they expressed contrition and were ready to undergo specified forms of penance and ecclesiastical dis- cipline?

The problem created a schism in Rome. Just as the anti-bishop Hippolytus had opposed Calixtus on doctrinal grounds, so Novatian die Rigorist now rose up against Pope Cornelius. But already there had been a sharp cleavage of opinion in Carthage, and this had been aired in writings and addresses. The question plumbed to the depths of human nature, and it also involved the government of the Church. The antique world had not been ignorant of the nature of crime and punishment. It had known Moses and the Prophets, the tragedy of Prometheus who had in voluntary penitence placed a crown of reeds upon his head as a symbolic fetter. It had beheld the pious throng to Delphi and seen thousands come to the Mysteries. Now it was the Church's obligation to weigh sin and penance in its scales. The effort to find the right medium between harshness and laxity was part of the effort to reach a definition of ecclesiastical authority. These questions and the schism that grew out of them forced both Rome and Carthage to reach a decision. When Cyprian returned in 251, he dealt with them in word and deed. He forbade all those not having authority to assume the rights of the bishop. He let the apostates realize the fullness of their guilt, but he did not ex- communicate them forever. Then he wrote his great treatise con- cerning the unity of the Catholic Church. There is one God and He dwells in the One Christ. This One Christ, however, lives in One Church which professes one faith. The apostles of this Church are, by reason of the word addressed by Christ to Peter the Rock, the bishops in their unity and unison. Therefore there is no salva- tion excepting it be in the Church. None can have God for his Father unless he first have the Church for his Mother. By reason of her legitimate succession to the theocracy of the Old Testament,


she is the indispensable house of healing for all men and times. The many single churches are not merely joined together in outward union, but they are rather branches of an organism in which flows divine vitality. And the Pope in Rome? Cyprian felt and accepted an honorary priority of the See of that Peter, to whom Christ gave, as the first though not the only follower, apostolic powers. He spoke of the principality of the Roman Church, which is the mother and root of all the rest. Yet he was no special pleader, supporting the gradu- ally awakening belief that Rome's bishop possesses the highest power and that his is the position of a monarch over and above the mon- archistic units of Catholicism that is, over the unity of all episcopal churches. He saw, it would appear, above the whole Church a crown that is the invisible dominion of Christ Himself.

Indeed this pioneer advocate of unity lived to see the day when he would flatly contradict the Pope. Once more a question that con- cerned the nature of the Church had arisen. The Catholic and hereti- cal congregations both administered baptism according to the Biblical formula. If a person abandoned heresy and became a child of the Church, was his baptism to be considered valid or was he to be baptized again? Later theologians would put the question thus: is the sacra- ment valid by reason of the fact that it has been performed in the proper way, or docs the validity depend upon the right faith and moral character o r 'he one who atLnir , seers k? This was in all truth the prelude of a conflict that would embroil the Church through centuries. Stephen, the Pope, said that the baptism of the heretics was valid be- cause it was the baptism of Christ and had been administered in his name. Cyprian, and with him other bishops of Africa and Asia, adopted the point of view that since the sacraments belonged to the one Church only, the rebaptism of a convert must be insisted upon. Stephen appealed to tradition and demanded conformity with the Roman practice. A mission was sent from Carthage to dissuade the successor of Peter from making erroneous use of his powers, but this was sent back and the Primate of Africa together with his supporters were threatened with the ban, Cyprian resisted and a schism seemed inevitable. Then the Pope died, just as a new persecution under Valerian was about to begin. Sixtnis II, his successor, agreed at last to permit the questionable practice. Then he was arrested during


Divine service in the catacombs, and added to the victims of the Roman power. A few weeks later Cyprian, too, was imprisoned. Not far from his city he met death manfully and nobly after a hearing marked by lapidary questions and answers. The fame of Cyprian, the martyr, and the writings of Cyprian, the Father of the Church, endure. They have been read almost as much as the Latin Bible. The Papacy owed to this great defender of episcopal authority no mere weak justifica- tion of its position but a doctrine of the Church which proved, in part as result of the conflict between Africa and Rome, that the Papacy was absolutely necessary. For the Church of Cyprian was no longer a community held together by sacred enthusiasm. The rushing wind of the primitive Christian Pentecost could still be heard in the dis- tance, but it now beat against a structure that was as firmly welded as a state. The growing body needed a stronger skeleton; the rhythm of feeling required the static element of discipline in ecclesiastical practice. The anarchical urge of the soul hearkening to itself stood in need of association with a leadership from without. Finally, the opposition of a powerful Empire sufficed to compel the masses, which partly or wholly separated from it to join a community based on new ideals, to look upon the Church as a structure formed like the Empire. Cyprian declared that not only was the bishop in the Church, but that the Church was also in the bishop. Justice, law and office be- come for the people of God a kind of skeleton supporting a Kingdom not of this world but nevertheless destined to realization in this world. Unless all the witnesses err, the strength of the best men in the Church consisted in these things: faith, deep awareness of the Kingdom of God, and personal possession of the new reality which dispelled the old as morning ends a dream. Cyprian and countless others round about him went to the place of judgment knowing that the sun was setting for them over the Empire and all earthly things, but confident within that theirs was a universe having neither beginning nor ending and resting upon itself as firmly as the ground over which a stream flows. The Church of the Kyrios was "from above." It enshrined God's way with man, it knew the meaning of yesterday, today and tomorrow. In order to bring about the fulfilment of that Church, the order of eternity would have to be implanted in a world of time


and space forever at odds with eternity. This would always be the nature and the mission of the Church. This was and would remain the theme of her history, dark and bright alike.

About 250 Origen predicted that the whole Roman Empire would gradually become Christian as the result of quiet missionary endeavour. Sixty years later his prophecy had come true. A cosmopolitan state, losing its nationalistic consciousness, at the same time permitted its citizens to group together freely under other forms for other purposes. About the year 300 a poorly-devised plan to strengthen the Empire by destroying the Church led to persecution. But Diocletian, son of a Dalmatian slave, who gladly believed in his Jupiter when he looked about at the miserable Christians, found that when he put his own army in motion against Cross and Bible, it contained thousands of dissidents who termed Jesus Christ their Saviour. He severed the Empire into two parts and when he did so the inner connection be- tween religion and state was destroyed. Later on, after he had ab- dicated and retired to his estate, this Emperor regarded all the persecu- tion and blood-letting which had been visited upon the "new people" as fruitless effort. His successor, who possessed the insight of a statesman, could not avoid combining the idea of the old Empire with the new conception of a divine society to which millions of Christian citizens subscribed.

This was the achievement of Constantine the Great. It was not without real sympathy that this young Augustus approached the Church. He believed honestly in the power of its God, who had seemed to answer his petition by granting a victory over Maxentius, the master of Italy and Africa. Constantine placed the Cross upon the shields of his soldiers and his own effigy in a Roman square bore the same sign in one hand. Yet this new ally of the Galilean did not cease to be Emperor. Ambitious to carry out a plan for a universal monarchy, he knew how to appreciate, as political factors, the Christian cult and the creative energies of its divinely established society. The Catholic Church might now be termed the Imperial Church and was soon to see that the good fortune of its liberation concealed the mis- fortune of a new bondage. Constantine's edict of toleration inaugu- rated an era of struggle with the worldly power, in the sense that the


Church was now to fight in her own bosom with varying success the bitter conflict with the powers of this world. The Papacy, which guides the Church, as Peter did the flock of the elect, can only relive above the grave of the Fisherman the hours of his greatness and weakness.


During the three following centuries the history of the developing Papacy is bound up with the life of the Empire as a whole. Political priority was now established in the East and Rome became estranged from its imperial master. Migrating Germanic tribes erected new states inside the Empire, which waged wars on each other and on the Empire as a whole, with the result that the kingdom of the Franks was firmly established. The political movements of the time are interwoven with spiritual and religious upheavals, for example, the ferment which arose out of efforts to assimilate ancient heathen ele- ments into the new Christian system. The struggle for priority be- tween East and West went on side by side with philosophical, dog- matic debates concerning the unity of teaching in the West Roman, East Roman and Germanic sections of Christianity.

In the year 330 Constantine dedicated his Roma Nova on the soil of ancient Byzantium. The chariot of the sun-god rolled into the market square, beside him stood the reigning Tychon with the Cross on his head, and a choir chanted the Kyrie eleison. Thus, with blended Christian and heathen tradition, this third city of destiny proceeded arm in arm with Rome and Jerusalem into what was to be the history of a realm lasting a thousand years. All the world was to see in this newly-founded Empire a sign that times had changed. But not everything had been renewed. In a city freshly adorned with gold and marble, the Cassars besought the Galilean to be their God as Jupiter and the unconquerable Sun had been the deities of their fathers. Constantine placed religion in the service of the state in the same spirit that had actuated Diocletian and all ancient emperors, though his was a different creed. The Church he confronted was so much like a state and so firmly established that the idea of welding it to the Empire was eminently natural. There could be no objection to the union in so far as the Church was of the nature of the ancient Politeia. But this Church was conscious of being something more, something greater: a communion founded in the beginning of time, transcending states and centuries in its devotion to the purposes of the eternal realm which had called it into being. Therefore a state



Church, in the sense of Constantine and his successors, was for the deepest reasons incompatible with the nature of the state and of the Church. The new monarchy, which sought to be church and state at one and the same time and was therefore neither church nor state, was comparable to a mother who in order to prove the fullness of her affection stifles her beloved ones in a vigorous embrace. The basilicas of Constantinople arose in alien air. Every sentence of the Gospel, which was read there as if it were the true code of the Empire, struck at the Basileus, divinely crowned, who, on his throne beside the altar, termed himself the earthly husk of Christus Itnperator. The Church was in the state, but the state was not in the Church.

After Constantine's rime, the great Councils met in the East. The emperors who convened them and presided over them knew how to affirm their royal priesthood, now in a wordly sense as abstinence and again in a spiritual sense as influence. Wearing the Cross as their sceptre, preaching before the assembled court, and proclaiming their laws acts of Providence which would redound to the eternal salvation of their subjects, they so nearly identified their persons with the Divine Will that only a step remained to be taken. Based on formula: of this kind, a dangerous belief that all powers had really been united in one representative of God on earth began to spread already during the century of Constantine. The diadem of Byzantium suffered as a consequence, even as would the tiara of Rome later on.

After the division of the Empire under Theodosius the First (395) the will to achieve political unity still existed, it is true, but the Church was the only force that actually held East and West together. But it, too, was forced to be on guard lest the opposition between East and West destroy its own unity. The Western dioceses were ce- mented more and more firmly to Rome. In the East a consciousness of solidarity against Rome became stronger after the Patriarchates were established. Moreover, the pressure brought to bear by the Imperial Protector on the Bosphorus, and the spiritual genius of Central Asian, Syrian and Egyptian thought were bound in the end to seem alien to the Christian West, despite the dominance there of Greek culture. East- ern Christianity seemed sometimes merely a chill cult of the state, sometimes a fitful fever of the intellect, and sometimes the self-immola- tion of a spirit fled into the desert. In Rome and in territories adjacent


to Rome, the norm was action on the basis of reflective reason, the transfer of religious insight into visible work, and active life deriving strength from the unfathomable secret fountains of the Church. The spirit of Pope Dionysius who, in the third century, addressed his brother of the same name in Alexandria as a teacher and insisted that he assent to the ideas of Rome concerning the relation between Father, Son and Holy Ghost, and desist from complex subtleties of interpreta- tion, indicates how in this classic time the dogmatic meditation of Rome differed from the philosophical unrest of the Orient. And as if they were governed by a higher plan, leaders in the Roman West, Ambrose and Augustine, for example, dug deep into the thought of Greece and the Orient, while eastern Romans, among them Athanasius of Alexandria and Jerome of Dalmatia, both of them familiar with the soil of Rome, wrote in the very spirit of the western Church. Thus an exchange of ideas fruitful to both sides made it less difficult tor the Popes to hold together the ecclesia universalis.

Christianity had answered the declaration of Constantine with unanimous acclaim. The victory of the One God, Alpha and Omega, was now apparent; and in the apses of the basilicas Christ, the Judge and Victor, began His reign. Yet the people who looked up to Him in fear of the Lawgiver, and half in gratitude to the Bringer of peace, did not become Christians overnight. The masses resembled the Pantheon of the Emperor who a hundred years before Constantine's time had placed the Christ of the "new people" amongst the ancient gods. Long after Christian houses of worship in great numbers had been erected throughout the Empire in Rome a basilica of vast dimensions stood on Vatican Hill and the pagan Lateran had been transformed into a Church Julian the Apostate bade the old gods return. Though this austere heathen's dream of erecting out of the ruins of the old religion a rival church came to naught, his romantic plan was supported by a part of that strength with which the Christian Church had to reckon in debating with its philosophic opponents or in educating the illiterate masses which flocked to it. This strength lay in the fundamental urge of religious man which can carry him to the vety extremes of spiritual life as well as far into the domain of sensuality. This twofold tendency grows out of the dual nature of man. From Paul's time on confessors and preachers of the Gospel


had sought to arrive at more than a covenant of toleration with the heathens. They saw in the old gods, images representative of faith in One Power which, despite the changing world, is everywhere active and present, governing all things throughout every transformation. The philosophers were found to have voiced truth that sprang from a wisdom they had received in advance from the Eternal Word, who had since become Man in Christ. Myth was viewed as a guide toward the Logos; and the mysteries were believed to foreshadow im- aginatively the spirit of the new Kingdom.

Eusebius in the East and Augustine in the West considered Chris- tianity historically and essentially in agreement with what before its coming had always been the veritable religion of mankind. The Church was Catholic and therefore at each moment of its existence embraced the whole of history and the whole of human nature. To it belonged both body and soul and the sum-total of the living. From its Founder it had inherited the obligation to embrace all peoples, though He had predicted also that by no means all would welcome that embrace. From the beginning it would remain a field both flourishing and untidy, producing both grain and weeds. The length of time it took Christianity to assimilate pagan tradition made a very sombre impression upon many men of the time. They saw that in its agony declining Rome threatened to destroy its rescuer, too. At the close of the 4th century the Christian Emperors Gratian in the West and Theodosius in the East declared the practice of the heathen religion a punishable offense. The Church could not avoid receiving on board its ship, without quarantine, the masses who now clung to a myriad wrecks. It had to take them as they were. Con- temporaries wrote almost morbid descriptions of the worldliness they beheld descending upon the Church. Salvian asked whether virtually the whole of the Christian community might not be termed the "mask of vice." The morals of the barbarians were, he maintained, putting those of Christian Rome to shame. Yes, the Vandals of Spain and Africa were compelled to rid the cities of Christian houses of prostitu- tion!

When the Germans poured like two tidal waves over Eastern and Western sections of the Empire, they invigorated even as they devas- tated the soil. As mercenaries they had long since permeated the


army. Now the bloody conflicts they inaugurated seemed to reflec- tive contemporaries the beginning of a new community of peoples inside which the Roman culture would become common property under the roof of the new religion. The division of Christiandom into Catholic and Arian Churches after the beginning of the 4th century, impeded this development for a long time because the larger number of Germans clung to the heretical faith. Nevertheless the final result of this inner and outer collision of peoples was the union of healthy new energy with a tradition, though centuries would of course have to pass before that union would bear full fruit. The pure and lofty strength of the Church was not lost during the process which saved antique civilization by transforming the Roman state into the Church a transformation which meant that the Church in inherit- ing the degenerate masses bequeathed by the state necessarily received much that was utterly rotten.

Now monasticism arose strengthening and purifying the Church, even as the Germans regenerated the human materials of the Empire. The monastic idea did not originate with Christianity, but it received from this a new content, a far-reaching modification of the ancient Oriental ideal of dying in order to live. When men severed their lives from society and abandoned all that could be abandoned, they did not always do the same thing. In both East and West the Church saw that the heroic gesture of world renouncement might lead to the peril of world condemnation. It saw ascetics band together in deplorable isolation from the whole of the Church. As the new school of the nations, it could not desire that a rigid self-contempla- tion and self-culture of the personality be set over and against it as a higher form of Christianity. It was deeply anxious to embody what is eternally valuable in monasticism into its scheme of life. Men like Basil in the East, who, despite his struggles and tiring labours as Archbishop of Caesarea, was not tempted to return to the pleasant her- mitage where he had cared for his garden and drawn a cart of dung just as cheerfully as he later engaged in learned study, was an exemplar of a monasticism which was entirely in consonance with the Church and could serve it like a right hand. In the West a great bishop, Severin, was a similar shepherd of his people. The paradox of a man who in action says "yes" to the world because he has said "no" to it per-


sonally is of unlimited fruitfulness. That conquest of things which comes from keeping them at a distance, the whole mystery of a crea- tiveness which grows out of renouncement of the created, the ora and labora which are so simple and majestic a way of human life (yes, the simplest and most majestic of all ways) : this the Church, as fire from Heaven and salt of the earth, had to master and retain. But the flame which soon burned on hundreds of hearths when Benedict of Nursia, both a perfector and a pioneer, wrote his Rule in the sixth century, was also in immediate need of a guardian who could tend it when it smouldered or burned too fiercely, lest the house as a whole suffer injury. Like all things human, the Church and its monasticism were in danger of losing sight of the proportion between the whole and its parts.

As a political institution the Church necessarily required leadership which could keep under control the life which coursed through his- torical space and time. If its Catholicism implied bringing together all values into one complex totality, nothing was more urgent than scrutiny of these values before they were accepted. The foundation had to be strengthened as more was added to the building.

In a state that wished to establish the government of One Shepherd and One Fold amidst the turbulence of earthly life, the value of a monarchical unity of leadership was self-evident. It was a law of Christ's Kingdom that its teacher was to be like unto the master of a house who takes both old and new out of his chest; it was to preserve what had been handed down, to sift what was in the making, to make young growth conform to the logic of the old, and to blend the old with the new. The restive creativeness of the human spirit had from the beginning thrown the Church into struggle concerning what was false and what true in her teaching. The dogmatic conflicts of the fourth and fifth centuries at first sight read like a chronique scandaleuse* Though all sides earnestly wished to serve the cause of Christ, the issue at bottom was whether the new religion was to live or die. The thing that held all the separate camps together was a position against Rome, ot rather the common bond was Rome's opposition to their teachers and their doctrines*

Thus there existed in North Africa a sectarian Church of ultta- asccrics. These were the Donatists. No one known to have sinned


was permitted inside their community. They denied that those who had weakened during a persecution could rightfully become bishops, and they maintained as Tertullian had maintained in his time that the priestly office was valid only when held by men of stainless moral purity. In their opinion the Church was holy, not in itself, not as God's gift and Christ's foundation, but only in so far as it was a com- munion of holy men. The Catholic synods of Rome and Aries con- demned the Donatists, whom Constantine later deprived of their churches while exiling their bishops. Yet even then the movement was not curbed. On the contrary: the Emperor's sternness fanned the fanaticism of these "soldiers of Christ," who proceeded to belabour Catholics with robbery, murder and arson. This attempt by a na- tionalistically minded mass-feeling to build a free, regional church sundered from Rome, lasted a hundred years. Egypt and Armenia had soon followed the example given. Then, about 400 A.D., Au- gustine, who as Bishop of Hippo was a proximate witness of their lawless conduct, opened his literary attack on the Donatists. He saw in the world-embracing community of the Church the result of an historical development which blended good with evil as a net contains good and bad fish, as a herd consists of sheep and goats, as a field is sown with wheat and weeds, but which is holy none the less because God is its Founder and its Shepherd. With a heavy heart, and also after a tragic farewell to his own convictions, the most illustrious teacher of the Church abandoned his former view that one must not make honest heretics Catholics by force. He now adopted what seemed to him the unavoidable conclusion that unity must be achieved by force when words no longer avail. Men bind the insane with fetters and drive stampeding cattle back to the herd with whips; and so also must heretic and schismatic come under the dictum of the giver of the feast in the Gospel: "Go ye out into the highways and into the fields and force them to come." In thus issuing the first summons to the power of the state for aid in behalf of the unity of the Church, Augustine, the greatest student and confessor of the human heart, gave the next thousand years a sword to wield against freedom of worship and conscience. His solution of the problem was not dictated by Rome, but breathed its spirit, and never faded from the memory of the Church and its Popes. After the religious debates of 411 in


Carthage, where 286 Catholic and 279 Donatist bishops met but could not agree, only the Empire's penal legislation could bring the sectarians to terms; and in quite the same way many a danger to the unity of the Church and therewith also the unity of Europe was put down only by fire, sword and rope before which the flesh proved mightier than the spirit.

Not the nature of the Church but of Christianity itself was the issue in the dogmatic struggles of the East. Who was Jesus? Primi- tive Christianity had also known those who answered that He had been merely a man. Their contentions could be disproved by citing writ- ten and oral tradition concerning the person and deeds of the Galilean. The conviction triumphed that He was the promised Messiah, the Son of God, the Christ. Yet this response of the Evangelists and Paul suggested many another question to later generations. The Old and the New Testaments, Greek and Jewish philosophic definitions, tended to meet in a lucid synthesis in which the simple "Father," the undefined "Spirit" and the "Son" were brought into an inner essential relationship not incompatible with the concept, the unity and the singleness of the Divine Nature. From Alexandria, in that time the world's market-place for ideas, the question as to what was the nature and the significance of Jesus led to both light and darkness. Some beheld in Him the Mediator between Heaven and earth, God and man. Therefore He must belong to both realms and have in Him something of God and of man. The East, where Greeks and Jews philosophized in Platonic manner, could not agree to let simple faith take the place of knowledge in the study of what Jesus had been. And once they had seized the mystery of Christ in their thoughts, an antique dread of anthropomorphic conceptions of the divine made them hesitate to believe that God could have appeared in man. The divine cannot, they said, ever act directly on what is earthly. How then can it have been made flesh? Therefore Christ also could not be in essence the Son of God. He could only be created mediate being, doubtless the first-born of all creatures, who creates and governs all things. Though this view had been approximately that of earlier thinkers, it was Arias, a priest who came from Libya to the Alex- andrine school, who gave it definitive form. He seems to have been a composite of vanity and earnestness. His teaching was inchoate, for


the eternal uncreated foundation of all things was held to be the creator of the mediate being who makes all things, but still himself unable to create. In the attempt to avoid lapsing into polytheism by as- suming that there were two primal causes, Arius posited a demi-god of whom the Scriptures say not a word. As a result of very effective propaganda his teachings gained a tremendous popular following.

Constantine did everything he could to salvage Church unity, so valuable to the Empire which his tireless efforts had unified. He called together the first great Council, that of Nice. Pope Sylvester's ambassadors acted as chairmen. The Council decided against Arius: Christ was proclaimed to be truly God, born of the true God and like in nature to the Father. But this verdict of the Council was also the inception of a drama which kept the Empire in a state of excitement for more than half a century. Under Constantine's successors, the Arians gained control of the secular power and also made some head- way in the West. During this springtime flood of the most powerful heresy since the days of the Gnostics, the Papacy could act only as a protecting dam. The See of Peter was sure that its was the true teaching. It maintained its claim to the highest pastoral authority and used whatever influence it possessed when the persecuted bishops of the Orthodox East asked for help. Nevertheless the Popes exer- cised no such influence as did Athanasius, the real leader of the Catholic forces. He has often been termed one of the greatest men of all times. The whole of his long life was dedicated to the upbuilding of the Church. Often viciously attacked, persecuted and exiled, he was a man of brilliant mind and unflinching character, and his was a soul which found God in the contemplative inner life, though it always tingled with zest for battle. In him were joined together, as con- temporaries already said, the nature of two precious stones: those who struck him found that he was a diamond, and those who were sundered from him realized that he was a magnet. Fellow Christians saw in the purity of his life a norm of the episcopacy, and in his theology a canon of orthodoxy. The odyssey of this warrior, who defended the Church against the power of the state as passionately as he fought for her against the heretics, also describes the hour of Pope Liberius' weakness: he had gone into exile for the cause of Athanasius, but there had conceded so much to the Arians that he was on the verge


of sacrificing the Saviour of the Church. Nevertheless this policy of conciliation, which Pope Damasus continued after Liberius' death, helped the great theologian of the East to conquer Arianism, which had meanwhile split into so many factions inside the Empire that the Emperors Theodosius and Gratian could require their subjects to profess the Creed of Nice. It was now 380 AJD. But at the same rime the forbidden teaching won the hearts of the Germanic peoples, and its grip on them was not loosed until well into the seventh century.

It was not Rome but the Church as a whole which through the voice of its bishops had proclaimed the dogma that God had become man in the Son. Yet the import of these Greek sentences had already previously been the faith of Rome. How to preserve this unity of teaching was the great problem of the fifth century. By no means all doubts or all questions which reason may put to the mystery of the Incarnation had been foreseen. A series of great Councils, sometimes brilliant and edifying but occasionally also repellent, were needed before the things that are Christ's could be cleansed by fire from every lofty and mean passion to which man is subject in both Church and State. Doubtless the voice of Rome did not always prevail in these conflicts, but the decisions as a result of its utterances were linked by the laws of an inner logic into a coherence which was the seal of truth also in the eyes of Rome. Creative insight was the property of phi- losophers and the devout, indeed of all who were actuated by a living faith, regardless of whether they were giving or receiving citizens of the Church. But that which tested the rising human waters of the intellect and the soul by the inner loadstone of the Church, that which drained them off or channelled them into the oasis of the institution which authoritatively represents the divine leadership of mankind: this was, more or less patently, the common will of the theologians and Popes of the Old Church. They confronted a gigantic task which almost baffled fulfilment. They were exteriorly to build a Church out of the chaos of races and peoples. Interiorly they were to adjust the still immature form of the Church to the sum-total of human needs. It was given to one man to complete the major part of this spiritual task in so far as the Western World was concerned.

This man was Augustine. The political tasks were performed by Leo I and Gregory I, the two great Popes of the fifth and sixth cen-


tunes. Augustine meant litde to the Papacy of his time, and im- measurably much to the Papacy ever afterward. His shadow covers the whole Western World for a thousand years and still lies over all that calls itself Christian. According to his own saying he had sun- dered himself from those that love the world. His journey from the things that seem to the things that are is described in his Confessions the most realistic of all novels and the most personal book in world literature. Here one sees the antique world burst like a pod because the fruit it has so long nurtured can no longer be restrained. It half clings to that fruit still, half falls off. Past and future are embraced in the unexampled richness of Augustine's mind. This is not the only sense in which he mirrors the duality of Janus. His human lim- itations are the limitations of human nature. Thence comes the fact that his ascent from the level plain to the heights is all too knowing, all too rich in fruit. Bidden to climb beyond himself, this most earth- bound of all religious men seeks the dizziest spiritual heights. / am and the best in me is my soul. But this soul is not all, though its all is the Good which is the only all. Certain of these things, Augus- tine the self analyst could endure being human. Indeed, he per- fected his self and then made it a memorial in a life work with which the development of countless years and countless men has conformed. Whatever stirred his time, stirred him, too; and yet there were many things that stirred him alone, and because of these he has moved time and the seasons. His life bridged the span of years during which Church and State had already formed a fateful partnership which with a thousand thongs bound the Heavenly Kingdom of the Gospels to the earth of the Empire. Christianity had conquered the world, but the world had also conquered Christianity. The blessings and dis- asters resulting from this interplay of forces the ferment in the Church, the pressure of the barbarians upon the Empire all this was the deep concern of this Christian and Roman, this thinker and bishop.

The Goths under Alaric conquered Rome in 410 and once more the ancient reproach was heard that the dethroned gods were taking vengeance on the Christian empire. Then Augustine, the Roman citizen, wept over the city's fall, but Augustine, the philosopher of the or bis universes Christianas, began to write De Civitate Dei. It is


Impossible to summarize the contents of this book in a few terse sen- tences, because being a book of destiny written during several decades, it is a rambling structure in which the trends of thought run in par- allel and then finally interweave. The author, who had realized and understood that he himself was a drama growing out of the conflict between divine and human will, here beheld history as a process dur- ing which God and His beloved are sundered from the kingdom of all which has abjured Him. Realization of this cleavage leaves only a choice between a state of self-love and a state of selfless self-sacrificing love. Though there may be little goodness to be found under the sun, though evil and good are intertwined mysteriously throughout history, it is nevertheless in the here-and-now that the die is cast for the eternal and the beyond. The peril in which earthly states live of succumbing to evil grows out of their lust for power. They keep themselves in order only in so far as they surrender to the heavenly Kingdom, which is the Kingdom of everlasting rest. Herewith the song of Pax Romana was ended. But is this Heavenly Kingdom the Church? Yes and no. It is so in the sense that the Church is the communion of saints, conceived before the beginning of time a communion of those whom God has summoned to live with Him in the past, the present and the future. But it is not the Heavenly King- dom in so far as its temporal existence is concerned, for during this it is a compound of good and evil men just as the secular state is a com- pound of such men. Nevertheless, being the continuation of Old Testament theocracy, the Church here below is the true soil on which a Civitas Dei can be erected. It is solid and more receptive than is the purely temporal state, which tends always toward egotism. The goal of this Civitas is to be Christian, free of the personal ambitions of princes, and able to administer justice in the spirit of service to God. The Emperor is the best servant of the state when he is the best servant of the Church.

The political theology of Augustine is so rich in corollaries that it never loses actuality. In spite of its inner contradictions, which re- sult above all from its definition of the Church and its relation to the Civitas Dei, this theology is, on the whole, of undiminishing and un- dying importance. It is unified by the conception of God's reign which everywhere informs it. Augustine sees in the theocracy of the


Old Testament the precursing shadow, the basis and threshold, of the ecclesiastical theocracy of the new world era which is builded by Christ and in turn is built on Him. Synagogue and Christian Church are associated inseparably, since God willed it so* The new form which the life of mankind must take on is the Church which, building mys- tically on Christ the God-man, is the communion of all who, living in Him and striving toward Him, are elected to and desire salvation* It is an organism through which there courses a supernatural soul; but it is also a union in which no member loses his independent per- sonal significance, because Jesus Christ is the source of the law which governs the life both of the individual soul and of the community. But in order to preach, preserve and carry out this law by which men are to be guided and the world transformed, the Church needs the concrete, visible, active authority whose function it is to restore all things in Christ. This high historical purpose is binding upon the bearer of every authority, even political authority. Jesus said that His Kingdom is not of this world; but He did not say that it is not within the world, or that it would not enter this world even as yeast pervades dough. It was to men who live in the world that He said:

    • Ye are not of the world, even as I am not of the world.*' "For of

what was His Kingdom if not of those who believe in Him?" asked Augustine. "For here His Kingdom shall abide until the end of time, and shall mingle weeds with its wheat until the day of harvest. But the harvest is the end of the world, when the reapers come who are the angels, and weed from His Kingdom all that giveth offense. Yet these things could not happen were his Kingdom not here be- low." The immanent demand of the trancendental (tsternttm in- ternttm) is always that which really keeps both soul and human his- tory ceaselessly active. But if man becomes another being in Chris- tianity, is filled with new wine and sent off toward new horizons, the ancient forms of civic life that antedate Christ cannot but be under- mined. Although he seems in many ways still deeply rooted in an- tique habits of thinking, Augustine struggled to create a new political theology based on the Christian union of soul and world, in which theology all earthly institutions, including the state, would be set forth as agents of the Divine, The Highest Good and Christian salva- tion do not obligate the ecclesiastical state alone, but they must (for


this is sublime commission given to humanity and history) be the ultimate concern and raison d'etre of every community and every gov- ernment. Justice too, though a brutal Roman state may have thought otherwise, consists in fostering purposes and attitudes which conform with the life and work of the Church. As a result of the ideal mar- riage of world-state and believing-state, all authority in the Christian- ized world is stamped with the character of a kingly priesthood or a priestly royalty. But what happens to this transcendental unity of the theocratic ideal amid the turbulence of earthly history? Is it like the bow and the lyre of Heraclitus a union born of disparate tendencies, a coalescence which struggles to be sundered?

Out of Augustine's vision of a civic entity having a religious soul, the Mater Ecclesia gazed dreamingly into the future, her features still mobile in youth. He confronted her with almost too many ideas. He gave her so many goals to reach and showed her so many ways in which to reach them, that as a consequence she could hardly avoid coming into conflict with herself. Always a warrior fighting on two fronts at the same time, Augustine created an arsenal of spiritual weapons from which all camps in the Church could draw. He wrote a program of genuine tolerance, and nevertheless became the Father of the Inquisition. He taught that the highest obedience was that with which the soul followed counsels of conscience; and yet as a Roman lover of order he strengthened the arm of authority. Fight- ing against the Manicheans and their fatalistic lalssez faire, he drew the idea of human freedom as taut as an overstrained bow. Against the English Pelagius and his "self made man," he emphasized Chris- tianity all too vehemently as a conception of God as the Sole Cause, who inclines hearts toward good and evil according to His divine plan. Thus this prodigally wealthy mind bequeathed to Christianity such vast horizons, so many ways and manners of being a Christian inside the Catholic Church, that the very gain of inner freedom of move- ment could also become a danger to unity. Augustine recognized the primacy of the Apostolic See as this itself understood and practised that primacy. His declaration that the debate with Pelagius was ended when Rome had spoken found the immortal phrase Roma locuta, CAUSA finite. But, to a greater extent than he could have imagined, a firm Rode was needed amidst the flood of the life he himself had created.

LEO I 61

When the Bishop of Hippo closed his eyes in 430, the Vandals were storming the city. Yet he still clung firmly to the belief that Rome was the meaning and the substructure of world society. Al- ready the magic light of glamour and power lay on the See of Peter. Gifts from rich families enabled the spiritual masters of Rome to for- get the simplicity of the Fisherman of Capharnaum. The seriously devout were scandalized at their pomp and feasting. It was not al- ways noble passion that divided the electorate into parties. It was only after bloody street fighting that the Spaniard, Pope Damasus (366-384) , could make use of an imperial edict to maintain himself in power against his rival. His private secretary, St. Jerome, waxed satirical when he described the spiritual Beau Brummels of the hier- archy. Perfume and curling irons, fashionable clothes and gilded horses! Were these clerics or amorous swains? Nevertheless be- hind this too, too human facade there was much courage and vigour. Damasus reopened and readorned the ruined catacombs and entrusted to his friend, the self-same Jerome, who slept with Cicero and Aristoph- anes under his pillow, the translation of the Bible into Latin. His immediate successors strove energetically to strengthen the position of their See quite as if they were aware of coming storms and sought to make it a safe haven for Western society. The city council, which still bore the proud name of Senate and was the sole surviving organ of Imperial Rome and its provincial cities, became a mere shadow com- pared to the true Friend and Shepherd of the people.

In as far as we are able to determine historically, Leo I (440-461) was the first truly great Pope. Possessing the qualities that make a Caesar, he lent his throne a dignity that in turn reflected upon him. To him Peter, with Paul, the founder of a more fortunate Rome, is the eter- nal bishop of the Church, mystically present in his See, which is the symbol of the rights and duties conferred by the Master upon the "Rock." The Roman Empire and all its numerous wars were in- struments of Providence working to prepare the way for the Empire of the Pax Christiana. The great city had, he declared, been conse- crated anew by the throng of thousands who had worn the purple of martyrdom. In them the firmness of Peter had been manifested a firmness of Faith that would abide as an example. Just as what Peter believed concerning Christ shall always endure, so shall there


abide forever what Christ established in Peter. In his See there lives on also His power and authority. "Our apostolic office," Leo said, "is never in lack of Christ's eternal succour. He is the strength of the foundation above which the whole Church arises. All its offices are united with the one chair of Peter, even as the limbs of the body are united with the head."

This Pope was the first who proceeded to deduce clearly, impres- sively and fully from the doctrine of the Roman primacy the conclu- sion that, as the successor of Peter, the Pope is the highest shepherd and teacher of the Ecclesia universal**. He did not correlate new ideas or new rights with his position; he transformed the immanent law of the past (vetustatis norma, he terms it) into a broad and lofty con- ception of the Papacy which the Middle Ages were to take over but would not amend in any essential way. Leo was a born ruler who realized to the full the loftiness of his office, but he also took this to mean service to humanity. He loved the words auctoritas and po- testas, but no less dear to him were bttmanitas and consulere as char- acteristic of the leader Providence itself had set over Christianity. Re- mote as only a Roman can be from all the hidden confidences of mysticism, he warned against efforts to understand God in human terms or to think of him otherwise than as the Eternal One who is always everywhere in Himself a perfect wholeness. There is a vir- ginal shyness in the manner in which he counsels letting the mysteries of faith rest within themselves as being the inviolable seal put upon human dignity and moral order. He was no defender of supersti- tion. He upbraided church-goers who bowed before the spring sun according to Manichean custom as they came up the steps of St. Pe- ter's Church and entered the portico of the basilica. What are the stars more, he asks, than a reflection of the divine beauty? Similarly he censured the outlook of nominal Christians by saying that it was not enough to change deities and worship the Trinity in palaces and churches, if at the same time one took no heed of moral habits by which the real Christian first proves himself steadfast. But whenever the teaching of the Church was under question, Leo pointed out the orthodox view with clear vision and persistent strength. He forbade his Romans to associate with Egyptian merchants, who on the wharves along the Tiber peddled heresies of the Orient with their wares. He

LEO I 63

cook the lead in warding off aberrations from the faith in Italy, Spain, Gaul and Aquileia. In a memorable doctrinal epistle he drew up the basis on which the Council of Chalcedon the greatest assembly the Church had known until then in 451 concurred in the decision that Christ is truly Man just as He is truly God, and that therefore He must be worshipped as one Lord in two natures. The Occident did not prevail at this Council without the powerful influence of the Em- press Pulcharia and her aged husband Marcian.

Just at this time the East, shaken by spiritual turmoil, was awaiting Attila's attack. But Leo understood how to use the goodwill of the civil authority, which regarded the Church as also its concern, without being false to the religious mission of Christianity. Indeed, almost against the will of the crumbling Christendom of the Orient, he once more accorded it a place of refuge inside the realms of the Imperial Church. The basic characteristic of his political point of view was a strong determination to salvage from the collapse of the Imperial unity the religious unity of all peoples under the dominion of the Roman See. He battled against the Manicheans, who poisoned Christian life in Rome and Italy, resorting even to the arm of the state in order to stamp out their dens of vice in the cities. He warded off the wolves who in the East and West of the Empire had broken into the sheepfold of Christ, nor did he concern himself greatly in what dark places of the soul, the intellect or folk tradition, the hereti- cal teaching had been born. At the very outset of his reign he ob- tained an imperial edict recognizing the primacy of the Holy See as based upon the priority of Peter, the dignity of Rome and the decisions of the Sacred Synods. Thus legal status was given to Papal decrees. His conception of the Roman leadership and resolute Papal guidance of the Church did not grow out of a personal passion to rule but rather out of the profound realization which he as a representative had of the weight and worthiness of the power he represented. His writ- ings, his words of advice to delegated authorities, combine the Stoic trait of equal respect for all men and peoples with the idea of a mo narchically ruled Empire of Christ and an awareness of the unplumb- able depths and inviolable unity of the Revelation given to mankind* His mood was that of one who would shepherd the peoples in the name of Christ and administer the legacy of Peter in the spirit of


service to all. Thus he began the transformation of the Augustinian Civitas from a nebulous Utopia into a reality.

As a statesman of this Civitas Dei he also rode out to meet Attila, the Hun, hoping thus to save Rome from ravage by these hordes. We do not know if it was the bearing and address of the Pope alone, or whether it was also the military situation which induced the barbarian leader to stop short of marching on Rome and visiting upon it still more dreadful woes than Genseric, the Vandal, would a few years later. The people of Rome loudly praised the deed of Leo and then soon forgot it. When the anniversary of the rescue came the Pope preached to only a few faithful. The mob was satisfied with its Pope so long as the mills on the Janiculum saw to it that no one went to the circus hungry. Leo is remembered, however, primarily as the saviour of Rome. The legend which says that the Prince of the Apos- tles appeared girded with a sword when Leo and Attila met, has been immortalized by Raphael in the frescoes of the Vatican. They reflect the conception which at heart the Pontifex had of his activities. He knew that he was the agent of the eternal Peter. He called his See a place of trembling responsibility; and if he also had a dark awareness of the future he sundered the honour and sacredness of the office from the worthiness or unworthiness of its custodians.

After Leo's death a century of bitter conflict passed over Rome, The Germans secured control of Italy. Ottocar, the Herculean Scyth- ian, exiled Romulus, the pretty, weeping boy who could term him- self the last Emperor of the West, to the ancient Lucullian estate on the slopes of the Mysenium (476). He then made himself king, and remained in office until 495 when Theodoric struck him down at a feast of reconciliation in Ravenna. The King of the Goths made the first great attempt to weld Germanic and Roman natures into a unity, the foundation of which was to be the superior Roman culture. The thirty years of his reign and the sixty years of his East-Gothic kingdom brought the Papacy face to face with a situation not unlike that of a sailor caught between Scylla and Charybdis. When the Patriarch Acasius of Constantinople favoured the teachings of the Monophy- sites, the first great schism between the Church of Rome and the East was at hand. After a peaceful understanding with the Arian Theo- doric, Pope Gelasius proved himself a master of the Emperor of By-


zantium. The world, he said, had two appointed rulers the sacred authority o the bishops, and the kingly power; but the significance of the bishops must be greater because they would also be summoned to give an account before the Divine Judge of what the kings had done. The Christian Emperors had need of the bishops for their eternal sal- vation, and the bishops for their part needed the laws of the sovereign in so far as this world is concerned. The self-same Pope also gave expression to the ties which welded the born Roman and the rightful monarch of a newer Rome together, and thus manifested a universal- istic consciousness of the ancient co-ordination of the two halves of the Empire.

Anastasius II, the successor of Pope Gelasius, sought to reunite the Churches, but went so far in conciliating the East that Rome itself was split into parties. Then Anastasius died, two Popes were elected, and both East and West asked Theodoric to act as arbitrator. He was already involved in personal political conflicts with Byzantium, and decided in favour of the candidate of the Rome-minded group and against the choice of the minority friendly to the East. But no sooner was the schism which separated East and West ended, than the political opposition between Rome and the Arian Goths waxed stronger. This was understandable enough. In 518, Justin, an or- thodox Catholic, ascended the throne in the East and began to perse- cute the fellow countrymen and co-religionists of Theodoric; the Popes meanwhile were subjects of an heretical king; and in Italy almost every city had both a Catholic and an Arian Church and generally two rival bishops as well. When Byzantium had weakened the Monophysites and so made it easier for Italy to rejoin the Empire, Theodoric, who had now been forsaken by his Vandal allies, turned the tables and wrote on them the sombre message of his last years to the world. A Pope, John I, also felt his heavy hand. Theodoric called him to Ra- venna, forced him to ease the lot of the Arians in Constantinople and threw him into prison when he returned because the results attained were not satisfactory. There death released him a few days after- ward.

During the same year (526) Theodoric also died, leaving his plans unfulfilled. He had succeeded neither in effecting harmony between the Romans and the East Goths, nor in establishing a Germanic fed-


eration of states. Thirty years later the Empire builded by his coura- geous Goths fell under the strokes of the Romaic generals. Once more, the Papacy leaned on the unsteady pillars of the Byzantine throne, but this was the last time. Justinian, the great figure of this- era, who had risen from amidst Macedonian farmers to become Em- peror, controlled the destinies of the Empire and also of the Church. His wife Theodora, who had previously been a dancer in the Manege,, was his true helpmate. He would have disturbed the peace of even greater Popes than those who flourished during his long reign. In order to renew the Roman Empire on a Christian basis, he wanted to hold all offices in his hand and did so. He was a lawyer and his codification of Roman law, the Codex Justiniani, has become the text- book of mankind. He was a builder and enriched Byzantium and Ravenna, the city of the exarch, with marvels of art. Viewed from a distance he looked like a Caesar comparable to the greatest of the past. He was interested in and studied everything. Unfortunately thb meant that like his wife he claimed to be a theologian, too.

In this Ccesar Papa there was incarnate the most destructive idea a ruler can entertain the idea of theocratic despotism. Regis voluntas suprema lex. In order that the whole implied tragedy of this maxim should be unfolded it was necessary only that there should be on the throne of Peter an opponent of equal determination. But none was there. The result was only a small handful of glorious and inglorious episodes in Papal history. The saddest is associated with the name of Pope Vigilius. Theodora, who was heretically minded, expected that this favourite, whom she had managed to place on the Papal throne as a successor of his exiled predecessor, would follow a political trend ac- cording to her own heart. At the beginning he resisted, but during the later dogmatic troubles he swayed weakly between "yes" and "no" and "no" and "yes" when the teaching of the Church was deeply in- volved. The Church of the West held its ground against its spirit- ual head. The bishops of Northern Africa severed their relations with him, and ecclesiastical provinces of Milan and Acjuileia per- sisted for a long while in their separation from Rome. The guilty Pope was the victim of grave maltreatment while at the altar, but the Catholic West did not immediately live down the moral upheaval that had shaken his throne. Since the baptism of Clovis in 496,


temporal and spiritual lords of the steadily growing kingdom of the Franks had noted very clearly the justice and injustice, the strength and weakness, of the vassals of the East enthroned in the city of Peter. Circumstances there now pointed more and more toward a separation from Byzantium. The government of Justinian, hollowed out by wars, the cost of luxurious splendour and confiscatory taxes, was unable to help Rome and its Popes during the time of tribulation at the hands of the barbarians, plagues, and inner conflicts. The situation became utterly hopeless when the Lombards, the last migrant Germanic tribe, invaded Italy, They did not conquer the whole of the country but they broke it asunder politically and were the causes of its long- enduring impotence. The Greek Empire retained Rome and the ad- joining territory, Ravenna and the Pentapolis. To the south it re- tained the region of Naples, Calabria, and Sicily. If the Church was to be the fundamental society, it must now imperatively find leaders able to preserve its social and spiritual authority. And the men it needed appeared.

"I, unworthy and feeble man, took over an old ship which the waves had battered severely. The waters poured in from all sides, and the rotten planks whipped daily by storms foreshadowed imminent ship- wreck." So wrote Gregory the Great (590604) shortly after he had been elected Pope. Comparable for strength of will and active energy to Leo I, he nevertheless bore a good-natured smile on his paternal features. He was a monk by disposition; but despite the fact that he was tired of this world, he sowed the seeds of the future on a vast field. The last "Roman" looked from the height of a ruined building at the fierce melee of peoples roundabout and placed his hope when he dared hope in gathering and unifying all peoples, even the bar- barians of the north, inside the educational institutions founded by Christ. Throughout all the subsequent history of the Church, this man and his achievement have remained the great exemplars of what a successor of Peter can be and can accomplish.

Gregory was the son of a rich Roman patrician family, and during his early manhood had become a prefect of the city. He was a born lawyer, an administrator and a lover of brilliant display, who managed the police, the judges, the tax officials and others subordinate to his office in a manner pleasing to the Romans. When his father died


he inherited a vast fortune, but meanwhile he had reflected upon the meaning of life, the condition of the world contemporary with himself, and the future of Rome. Thereupon the rich ruler of a city became a poor monk. He built six monasteries on his estates near Palermo and erected a seventh (San Andrea) in his paternal mansion on the Monte Cadius, the most patrician quarter of Rome. He gave away literally everything, even his last possession the silver dish in which his mother sent him vegetables every day. He was not the first Roman who had gladly sought his happiness in the new vita socialis. But this man, who fled from life and looked down upon a devastated Rome and its ruined amphitheatre from a seclusion devoted to higher things, as a monk and builder according to the Rule of Benedict, became a pioneer of Western monasticism.

In the monastic life Gregory sought to conform with the spirit of its founder. The object was to obtain a common sanctification of existence in a cloistered life of prayer and work. The daily tasks in a house set apart were to be performed according to the prescribed rhythm and to be based upon contemplation of eternal things assur- ing depth and consecration to such tasks. The values of eternal life wrung from contemplation were to bear fruit in practical work. Ben- edict had not by any means desired to found an order for pious scholars, but what he established was, like all foundations of its kind, to give witness unto the law that those who seek the Kingdom of God shall have all else given them. This law, the tragic nucleus of which is also evident, has revealed itself again and again throughout Christian history. While bustling, active careers often leave not a trace behind, even as water seeps through sand, it is possible that the most secluded existence can win for itself a very great sphere of in- fluence. Quiet, directed toward the inner life, surrender of the world and concentration on seemingly most unreal things, can prove itself the source of the most fruitful public influence, and the lever of a powerful incision into the processes of world history. Then, of course, it may turn upon its first authors like a strange hostile force. The Order of St. Benedict was still far from witnessing any such turn of events, but the scholarly culture of pagan origin which Cassiador, Theodoric's statesman who had become a monk, took on board the ship of the Church soon after Benedict's death in 543, implied a change


in the spirit of the Rule. The incalculable service thus rendered to all time is not ascribable either to monasticism's holy founder nor to his imitator, Pope Gregory. Nothing was further removed from cither's mind than the thought of rescuing the treasures of antique culture. For the Pope, the care of souls was the art of arts, and this he taught and practised as a friend of wisdom dwelling in simplicity. His Regula Pastorates was the wise, nobly proportioned basic text of pastoral action he bequeathed to the Catholic Church. The whole Middle Ages were to drink deep from all his writings, so notable for their lucidity, their warm spiritual content and their gracious and force- ful form. Yet there was also a tendency toward the primitive in the nature of this preacher standing above the ruins, and this tendency had a profound and lasting effect upon the devotions of the Church. Gregory did all he could to make men love the Invisible, but he like- wise did all he could to make the Invisible visible. In this respect he satisfied a natural human desire to give outward expression to the inner life, but he also increased the danger that the external might affect the interior life and so helped to lay the foundation for a later reversal to the opposite danger. Still more serious is the fault that lies in his legalistic, often mathematical view of what Heaven will do for men who do something for it. Nevertheless it became evident as time went on that Gregory had done the "state of the Lord" a service when he gave it a form more discernible by the senses and more op- timistic from the religious point of view than the tragic Civitas Dei of the more intellectual Augustine. The Church also owes him undy- ing gratitude for what he accomplished as the fashioner of her liturgy and the restorer of liturgical music.

As a shaper of ecclesiastical policy, Gregory cut deep and broad across the life of history. Previous Popes had summoned this experi- enced official from the retirement of the cloister to curialistic and dip- lomatic service. He spent six years in Constantinople as Papal am- bassador and here gathered information, insight into human nature and breadth of vision for the tasks he was to perform in Rome later on. Upon his return he directed the affairs of the Roman See as Sec- retary to Pope Pelagius II. Then in 590 he himself became Pope at the age of fifty. Now he experienced the truth of his own saying:; "Men listen gladly to one they love." In view of the economic col-


lapse of the Western Empire, which had long since seen its last cargo of Egyptian grain, it was his first care to give the people bread. Only after that could he say to them that man does not live by bread alone! As steward of the city and all the ecclesiastical estates within and out- side of Italy estates which had been accumulated as a result of gifts and bequests he inaugurated a great reform by building a system of ecclesiastical self-management upon the idea of rational use and highest returns. To him the purpose of ecclesiastical economy was to supply the needs of the poverty-stricken, the proletariat, the horde of those who fled from regions desolated by the Lombards, and the prisoners whose freedom he could purchase. The spirit which actu- ated his method of organizing work was in consonance with the pur- pose of his charitable enterprises. The chief officials were Roman clerics, directly responsible to the Pope; and a system of leases and payments curbed the danger that some would seek to enrich them- selves. In all this Gregory opposed Mammonism of every kind, and directed his attention in particular to simonistic bishops who demanded payment for administering the Sacrament of Holy Orders. He re- gretted deeply that the needs of the time compelled him to be so much engrossed in worldly business (he even had to take a hand in selling cows and oxen) and he therefore strove to emphasize doubly the spirit of Christian kindliness and the eternal meaning of all earthbound industry. To his clergy he preached the motto of service rather than lordship, holding up before them the picture of a Christ who had driven the money-lenders out of the temple.

Gregory mastered the troubled situation in Church and State in a spirit of lofty nobility blended with the prudence and wisdom of a political calculator. He did what was possible at every given mo- ment, but over and beyond that proved himself able to frame a long range policy. Against the East he defended the infallible teaching authority of the Roman Church as emphatically as he could in view of the tragic vagueness of which Pope Vigilius had been guilty. This he excused by referring to the false impression under which Peter had laboured in the beginning concerning the mission to the heathen. He opposed to the arrogant attitude of the "ecumenical patriarch" of Byzantium a description of himself as servtts servorum Dei, servant of the servants of God. He also succeeded in defending his Lombard


policy against the rude, soldierly Emperor Mauritius and against Pho- <a$, Mauritius' assassin, whom he conciliated with an official message -of recognition. The Pope had called Italy "my country" in a letter written to Mauritius, and the future was to prove him right. It was not merely his industrial skill, but also his activity in behalf of the Roman See and above all his efforts to conciliate the ever-threatening Lombards which saved Rome and the provinces and, outside their boundaries, the idea of Rome, In the famous "funeral oration 51 which he delivered during the siege of 593 he could repeat the Vision of Ezekiel: the meat in the vessel is eaten, even the bone has been boiled, and now the empty vessel (the city) is burning and melting away over the fire. For 300 years the Church had paid day after day some tribute to the barbarians in order to stave off the worst and now, too, a peace with Agilulf was purchased with the treasure of Peter. The Papal patriot described in his sermon the sad remnant of ancient Rome now visited by famine and the pest, war and floods. It was a de- scription of a bald, featherless eagle, but to this eagle he was mean- while giving the strength of the Phoenix.

Gregory had never lost sight of the trailing thread which bound Rome to the East, but perhaps it was a feeling that better times were approaching which led him to formulate a West-European policy of his own. Now the successor to the Fisher of Men threw his net into the sea of the Germanic peoples in order to assemble them as peaceful conquerors in the unity of a spiritual order under the primacy of the Roman See. The viceroy of Christ raised the staff of the shepherd of the peoples which was to become both sceptre and lance in the hands of later Popes. Blessing, pacifying, building up, he based the paternal authority of the Papacy upon the rising kingdoms and na- tions which would eventually call themselves France, Spain and Eng- land. He petitioned Theodelinda, the Catholic princess of the Lom- bards, to induce her Arian husband to enter "the community of the res publicana Christiana" Against the will of the imperial govern- ment, he tried to persuade those who threatened Rome to accept spirit- ual membership in a Catholic confederation of peoples. "If," he said, "my object had been to destroy the Lombards, this people would to- day have neither king nor duke, nor count, and would have become a prey of hopeless disunity. But because I feared God, I did not wish


to make myself guilty of destroying anything or anybody/' In him the idea of the Pax Romana had the greatest of its unarmed protago- nists. He firmly reminded the provincial churches of the primacy of his See, but to each he allowed a liberal measure of self-government be- cause he had a high regard for the episcopal office and for the individ- uality of each people. He could say, "We are defending our rights," but also, "We respect the rights of the several churches." Recogniz- ing fully the future significance of the Prankish kingdom for the Cath- olic totality, he was persistently careful to do all he could to improve and unite the corrupt churches involved in the political conflicts then decimating the Merovingian territories. Having a great objective constantly before his eyes, he overlooked the moral deficiencies of the notorious Franconian Queen Brunhilde when he needed her power and influence in his struggle against simony and surviving heathenism. In order not to break off the first slender thread of a Franco-Roman relationship, he also resisted the project of Columba, a fiery missionary who wanted to force the Irish date of the feast of Easter upon the Gauls and Romans. This Celt addressed to the Papal See, "The no- blest flower of the whole declining Europe," one of the curtest letters which Rome ever received from one of its own messengers. But Greg- ory ignored it. He also paid no attention to a threat that the Celtic Church would go its own way in schism; and by this silence he re- tained the help of an opponent whose violence was also useful.

The Pope had very little success with the Franks, but they spurred him on rather than hindered him in his attempt to win the Anglo- Saxons for the European cultural community and for intimate union with Rome. For the first time Rome sent its own missionaries Prior Augustine of the Monastery of St. Andrew and a small company of monks to these barbarians. Rumours of Anglo-Saxon savagery induced these messengers of the faith to turn round when they had reached the Rhone, but Gregory did not budge from his resolve and sent them out again, making provision this time for French support. Their success after landing in Kent rapidly paved the way for progress among princes and peoples. For they did not come as emissaries of a foreign political power and had been authorized by the Pope to exercise great freedom in their missionary methods. One readily feels that there hovers over his answers to their anxious questions the supe-


nor smile with which a grown man listens to the prattle of children, who in their effort to make out the letters o the alphabet do not yet gather the meaning of what they are reading. "Why should one not be allowed to baptize a pregnant woman? In the eyes of the Al- mighty, fruitfulness is certainly not a fault. What is given to human nature as a gift of God cannot possibly be an obstacle to the grace of baptism." The customs of the people, he says, ought to be tolerated and then gradually and wisely filled with Christian meaning. His first advice was to destroy the heathen temples; but then "after long reflection upon the matter of the Angles" he reached another conclu- sion. No, they ought to remain. Only the images of the gods should be destroyed. Altars should then be erected, the walls sprin- kled with holy water, and relics placed within the altar stones. The fact that a given place had long been associated with the cult should prove advantageous also to the worship of the new true God. If here- tofore the Angles have sacrificed oxen to the demons, they may hence- forth butcher them and eat them in praise of God. For it is impossi- ble to take away everything at once from hearts hardened by custom. If one wishes to climb a high mountain, one cannot run up it but must proceed slowly, step by step. Very gradually and persistently the monks of St. Benedict carried the faith and morals of Rome from the cities of Canterbury and York to the far corners of the British Isles. Soon the vigour of the Anglo-Saxon Church was felt on the continent. Csesar had landed with six legions to carry out the first Roman con- quest of Britain; Gregory had effected the second with forty monks. By so much is, as Gibbon himself must admit, the glory of the Pope greater than that of Caesar.

It is said that as an old man stricken with gout he lay abed instruct- ing students in Church music. Regardless of what his part in the creation or renewal of "Gregorian" choral may really have been, this anecdote by his biographer characterizes the inner nature of the great- est educator in early Christian Europe. There is something of music in everything to which he gave expression. Friends and defenders of culture who laugh at him and his style in writings which influenced centuries more deeply, perhaps, than any others, misunderstand Greg- ory's own smile at "the wisdom of men." To him the life of the mind was not an end in itself, but only a means to help bring about


the moral maturity needed to begin a life of a higher kind. He cre- ated culture as and because he sought more than culture. He was a herald of social justice, the saviour and liberator of Italy, and a man of genius in the administration of the patrimony of Peter which only later, under other Pontiffs, became the "temporal power" of the Church. The prophet of a federation of peoples led by Rome in which the Church "unites what is separate, gives order to what is in disorder, harmonizes dissonance, perfects the imperfect, not for its own sake but for the sake of human society," he was the model of all Popes of goodwill who followed him and the first great pattern of a shepherd of peoples. So illustriously did he represent the greatness of the Papacy through service that despite all that time has changed in countless hearts he can still enkindle a desire for divine authority on the earth. Yes, Gregory was really and truly what is written on his tomb a "Consul of God."


The Germans overpowered the weak Roman Empire, but the heart o that Empire, the Christian Church, in turn conquered the Germanic world. Gregory the Great, farseeing captain of his ship, had cast anchor far off in the British Isles, where his legates established them- selves firmly in a soil that was fertile and nourishing. Then he had carefully tried also to anneal the Prankish Christian kingdom more firmly to the Roman rule. Two hundred years after Gregory was laid to rest in the Vatican, Charlemagne erected his Roman palace next to St. Peter's; but on the tower of his redoubt in Aachen, there hovered a mighty eagle with gilded wings flung wide. This was reminiscent, it is true, of the eagles of the oriental sovereigns, of Job's eagle, of the eagle of the Roman Emperors, which according to Dante's image flew down into the tree of young Christianity and destroyed leaves and blossoms. But it was also like unto the eagle of the Evangelists, a symbol of power to behold the things of God and to ascend unto them. There followed (to use a more modern expression) the translatio im~ perii ad Francos the passing of the West Roman Imperial author- ity to the Franks, who were now to restore it and give it added vigour.

The New Eagle hovering over that northern city looked down on buildings ercted in the styles of the East and the South. The ro- tunda of the dome, Roman in conception and Byzantine in construc- tion, arched itself like a kind of Pantheon over relics of many saints of the One God. The city hall was copied from models in Constanti- nople; and everywhere pillars and blocks of marble taken from the ruins of Roman Trier, from Rome itself or from Ravenna, were em- ployed. But this new Empire which took over from the old its idea, its law, and many treasures of the mind, was not the same in so far as extent and territorial possessions were concerned. Ancient Rome had been divided into three parts Byzantine, Arabian, and Latino- Germanic. Proceeding from the last, a new correlation of energies could be effected round the ancient centre, the Rome of the Church. That which now arose and lasted for centuries despite all vicissitudes of temporal and spiritual power was the idea and the actual realiza- tion of a religious super-state. This had only one aim: the sancti-



fication o human existence. But in this aim there was necessarily latent a conflict between two elements: the world as it is, and the super-world which is to absorb the other, change it, and desecularize it. Therewith history was given a dramatic motif having no parallel. In the distance Scylla and Charybdis, dual dangers, threatened the "no" which is said to the world for the sake of the super-world, and the "no" that is spoken to the super-world as the deepest cause of all the unrest and the inner estrangement that seep into human life.

Naturally the originators of these great adventures of the eighth and ninth centuries could not see so far into the future. But their deeds were concatenated in rapid succession into a prelude crammed with meaning a prelude in which there are motifs that, however varied and repeated, have governed the whole subsequent history of Europe. That which remained the same throughout all rising and falling accents, that which merely developed, throughout all varia- tions, a form established at the beginning, was the Church. And the support upon which this persistent unity rested was the Roman See.

If one were asked to characterize the history of the Papacy from 600 to 900 in a few words, the answer would be: Islam, Byzantium, France, the German mission, the Lombards, the Italian people, the Roman no- bility. Not all of these implied good fortune for the cathedra Petri. But taken together they meant the rise of a power which found the winning of all the world and its greatness no longer profitable because it had suffered loss to its own soul.

About the rime of Gregory the Great's death, Mohammed saw in a vision the terrible power of God and heard on Mount Hera the sum- mons to be a prophet. Islam, feverishly driven on to carry out its boundless mission, first overthrew the neo-Persian kingdom of the Sassanids. Next it severed from Eastern Rome Palestine, Syria, Egypt and the land of the Tigris and the Euphrates. Then during the eighth century it reached out to northern Africa and Spain. Mo- hammed died in Modena during 632. A hundred years later, his Arabian followers invaded southern France. It was a tense moment in human history, for Christianity, Germanic and Roman culture were in the balance. Then Charles Martel, the "Hammer," and his Franks defeated the Mohammedans in the Battle of Tours. The greatest


gain which a rescued Europe derived from this victory was a con- sciousness of unity, a consciousness which implied a summons to unite against the alien, and yet so related, world power. This it also was which, despite all the weakening relapses that followed, gave the spir- itual monarchy of the Papacy new strength and the chance to carry out more easily the plans to bring about Christian solidarity.

About this time Rome was involved in a complicated struggle be- tween varied forces. Though the Lombards had become Catholic, they had nevertheless twice taken the field against the Eternal City within ten years. In 729, Gregory the Second induced their king Liutprand to depart, but in 739 the Lombards sacked St. Peter's Ca- thedral. No help could be expected from Constantinople, for there the Iconoclasts had been in rebellion since 726 and Rome was strongly opposed to the Emperor's view of Iconoclasm. Then Gregory III, a Syrian, turned for help to Charles Martel. One urgent letter fol- lowed the other, but the Prankish king also would not help because Liutprand was his only ally in the new wars against the Arabs in the Provence. When Pope Zacharias ascended the throne during the year Charles died, he made some progress but could not reach a lasting peace with his assailants. Suddenly, however, Franconian policy needed the spiritual aid of Rome; and now everything on both sides of the Alps took a new turn.

Charles Martel had risen to the dignity of a royal major-domo in Austria, his part of the Empire; and the Prankish dominion had been extended over the Frisians, Saxons, Bavarians, Allemans and Aqui- tanians. Support came from the nobility from which Charles him- self had risen. Soon the real power no longer lay with the exhausted Merovingian dynasty but was in the hands of the major-domo. Nev- ertheless, the last shadow of this dynasty still called himself king when Charles MarteTs son Pepin took over the whole Empire after his co- heir and brother Carloman became a monk in 747 and renounced the throne. Who was the king? He who had the power or he who bore the name? Pepin was determined to rule and sent two ecclesias- tical prelates to Rome with these questions. Pope Zacharias, a Greek, a learned man, a strong mind, a person of noble distinction, was then in office. Throughout the decade of his reign (741^752) Boniface, the Anglo-Saxon missionary, proceeded with his reform of the Church


within the Prankish realm. From the beginning this had stood only in loose relationship with Rome and had fallen a victim half to its own riches and half to the passions of the Merovingian dynasty or of the nobility. Charles Martel had helped to rid it of earthly goods by making presents to his vassals, but he had done nothing to free it from the pressure and whims of the state. Even Pepin, who had gone to school to the monks of Saint-Denis, considered himself elected the ruler of the Church, though he based his view on what he con- sidered the duties of a prince. Boniface and the Pope taught him otherwise. He was willing to listen (as was his brother Carloman, die lord of Austrasia) doubtless because he had seen for himself that only the Church could save the state from complete collapse. This Church could not be the Prankish Church as it was, since this had become no more than a function of the state and was therefore equally sick unto death, but only the full power of living religion as the Anglo- Saxons, acting hand in hand with Rome, were awakening it in the people. The reform passed from Carloman's German Austrasia to the region governed by Pepin. But Pepin seemed none too eager to welcome the new system. Though he asked the Pope countless ques- tions, he obeyed instructions sent from Rome only when they suited him. Meanwhile Pope Zacharias did not cease to insist that his in- structions be followed. If the work of building up the unified Ger- man Church under the leadership of Rome was to succeed, the power and the authority of the Lord of the Empire were needed.

The question which Pepin had originally sent to the Pope was supported by the nobles and the people, for this chieftain undertook nothing of importance without assurance of the people's support. It testifies to the high regard in which the Roman See was then held. The pioneer in the effort to restore Papal influence was Boniface, who was actuated by a profound faith in the Papacy and its divine origin. This faith he had brought with him to Europe from the British Isles. As a monk of the Order of Benedict, he belonged to the Anglo- Saxon Church which under Gregory the Great had again united itself most intimately with Rome, gradually overcoming that ancient Brit- ish individualism that had grown up during the time when England was cut off from the Empire by the Germanic invasions. Wynnfrith, for that was Boniface's original name, completed in more than thirty


years of labour a task with which everyone is familiar. As a mis- sionary and organizer, he welded together the peoples that spoke the German language in national unity, and at the same time subordi- nated this unity to Rome. He rendered the greatest possible service to the Church and the peoples of his time: everything said to the contrary later on is mere idle talk. His work proceeded under the protection of Prankish rulers and Roman Popes, and so prepared the way for a union between Church and State and for the major trends of political and ecclesiastical history during the Latino-Germanic Mid- dle Ages. His genius suffered guidance, but he was also able to act as guide towards the city to which all roads lead. The Papacy never had an assistant to whom it owed more. To it he was a pupil, but also a teacher. He served the universal Church, but when he died his last words were in the English tongue. He was a master of politi- cal policy, but when the Frisian sword was lifted to deliver the death blow, the martyr Boniface held the New Testament above his head as a shield.

Pope Zacharias saw that the Church of the Franks had derived new strength from the reform. He was under pressure from the Lom- bards under Aistulf' s command, and he had sundered relations with the iconoclastic East. Accordingly he answered Pepin's question thus: the name "king" belongs to him who is able to be a king. The Prank- ish ruler now felt that his conscience was clean before God and the people. He termed himself a king Dei Gratia, by the grace of God, and was anointed by Boniface. The last Merovingian was sent off to a monastery.

After writing that answer Zacharias died, and now the Lombard danger reached its zenith. Aistulf occupied Ravenna, and his armies appeared outside Rome. Stephen II, a genuine man of the people, walked barefoot with the Cross in his hands at the head of a procession which prayed that the danger might be warded off. The Eastern Emperor was still the Pope's sovereign, and all the possessions of the Church lay within the territories of the old Empire. But the hour was at hand when Stephen had perforce to repeat Gregory Ill's sum- mons for aid. He entrusted a pilgrim with a letter in which he asked Pepin to send an ambassador across the Alps with a request that the Pope visit him. This Pepin did. Under Prankish protection, the


Pope met Aistulf in Pavia and demanded that the lost territories be restored. The Lombard refused assent, but he dared not prevent Stephen from travelling farther. In midwinter the Pope reached Pon- thion, the Prankish encampment not far from the Marne. He re- quested and accepted protection from the Prankish king. Pepin made a promise in the form of a vow to St. Peter, to protect the Church and its rights. Two congresses, at which a certain amount of resist- ance from the nobles had to be overcome, brought into being the doc- ument incorporating the "Promise of Pepin." It stated that, in case of a victory over the Lombards, the Church would receive a free grant of the acquired territory, would be given dominion over the Duchy, would regain its patrimonies, and would not be obliged to surrender Rome. As protector of Italian territory, Pepin was now in a danger- ous relationship to his Imperial overlord. He received from the Pope the tide of Patricias Romantts, which implied an office in which there lay a temptation to become master of the Church after having been its protector. His new title confirmed the advantages and disadvan- tages Rome was destined to derive from the pact; for although this Prankish monarch kept his promise, made real the "Donation of Pepin" in two military campaigns, and therewith founded the Papal States, he was henceforth not only lord of the Franks but also su- preme master of Italy and co-director of ecclesiastical affairs. During 754, Stephen again anointed Pepin as well as his sons (among them the young Charlemagne), in the Church of Saint-Denis in Paris. Henceforth the Roman liturgy was to be followed at German masses; but on the other hand the Pope in Rome swore allegiance not only to St. Peter, but also to the Prankish king!

Pepin's declaration spoke of "giving back" not of "giving." This expression is surprising when one considers the actual facts. Never previously had the Roman See claimed to be the owner of the regions occupied by the Lombards. It is possible that the new Papal con- ception of a "state of St. Peter and of God's Holy Church" presup- posed a legendary basis for this new enlargement of power, such as we shall soon meet as the "Donation of Constantine." Yet it was not merely the Roman See's craving for an enlargement of its powers, or revival of ancient ambitions of the res publica Romanorum for which the Papacy (sole surviving organ of Roman national feeling) was the


mouthpiece, that gave the Prankish king a basis in law for "restora- tion" when in 756 he concluded a second peace with the Lombards in Pavia, by which he became the patricius of a realm he far preferred to see in the hands of the Pope than in those of the Lombards or even of the Eastern Emperor.

This step toward separation from Byzantium just one more re- mained to be taken brought the Papacy everything else but free- dom, for Charlemagne followed Pepin. The son resembled the fa- ther in that he felt an urge toward universalism, toward transcending national boundaries; and he was like him also in fostering the idea that temporal power must be sanctioned by spiritual power. The holy oils of the Pope, whom he had ridden out to meet as a boy, had touched his young forehead in Saint-Denis. It mingled more deeply with his blood than the Popes may afterward have wished.

There is a basic religious trend in the political thinking of all times. Again and again in both East and West, philosophers and rulers seek to transform a policy of benevolence into a policy o redemption from the deepest causes of upheaval. The leadership of empires and states must not only make kings mighty or subjects happy and well fed. A feeling that all transitory things are mere symbols, a desire to dispose human affairs according to the Divine plan, sent Asiatics, Greeks and Romans on a quest for a practical politic of the highest kind the realization of an innermost world law believed and known to be good, and the attainment of dimly visualized possessions of unchanging value and permanence. From Isaias to Dante and on to Kant, all wise men and all kings worthy of their name have striven to give peace to the world. In this sequence of efforts, more or less spiritual in character, to order human society in consonance with eternity, there stand Au- gustus, Hadrian, Constantine and Justinian. There Charlemagne also stands. He was given to reflecting upon Augustine's books con- cerning the City of God; and when passages from them were read to him the words fell upon the receptive mind of a German whose race had from time immemorial attributed a sacred character to kingship. But whether or not he realized it, this magic, perhaps even mystical, conception of his dignity was in conflict with the sphere of the spirit- ual monarch of Rome the older ruler in the name of God, whose


tide was incomparably better established and who had been deprived of nothing by his Lord save only evil and the sword.

But despite all specious reasons for assuming the contrary, Charle- magne was much more important to the Papacy than it was to him. When he took over the reigns of government, Roman factions were fighting for possession of the Holy See. It almost seemed a law of the time that the supernatural dignity of this much coveted office was to be demonstrated by weakening it in every temporal sense. In ac- cordance with Roman requests, Charlemagne sent bishops from his Prankish Empire to the Lateran Synod (769). Immediately the congress decided that henceforth only the clergy were to have the right to vote, and that no layman could be elected. As a consequence the ruler laid hands on everything on Italy and its Pope. Stephen III was greatly alarmed when he confronted a new union of the Prankish and Lombard dynasties. He protested in vain. In 770, Charle- magne was betrothed to the daughter of Desiderius. Therewith he forced the Pope to make a sham peace with the Lombard king, who was sure his new hopes for Italian possessions had the support of a strong faction in Rome. Then there followed a sudden change in the situa- tion which liberated the Papacy from the Lombards forever, but at the same time made it dependent upon the liberator. Charlemagne an- nulled his marriage and sent the young wife back to her father. De- siderius now tried to enkindle a rebellion in the Prankish territory of his mortal enemy. He sought to induce Pope Hadrian I to anoint with the oils of kingship the disinherited children of Charlemagne's brother, who together with their mother had found a place of refuge at the Lombard court. But in Rome he met the revenge of a Prankish faction whose leader he had blinded and put to death in order to gain a victory for the Lombard faction under Paul Asiarta. Pope Hadrian clung firmly to the policy of alliance with the Franks and reinforced this decison by turning over Asiarta to the courts, which condemned him to death on a charge of murder. Thereupon Desiderius occupied cities in the Papal territory and vowed that he would take Rome by storm.

Summoned by Hadrian, Charlemagne destroyed the tottering kingdom of Desiderius and proclaimed himself ruler o the Lombards. In 774 he concluded his victorious campaign with an Easter pilgrimage


to Rome. The frightened city opened its gates only after he had promised it security. There followed a day of rejoicing. He was welcomed with all the banners of the militia and the city organizations. Young people swarmed about him, carrying palms and olive branches. On the steps of St. Peter's Church, Pope and King met and embraced. The singing of Benedicts qui venit in nomine Domini filled the nave as they entered. A few days later the "Donation of Pepin" was re- affirmed in the basilica, and the deed incorporating it was signed by Charlemagne and laid at the grave of Peter. It gave the Pope no new advantage other than security, and even this took the form of con- firmation from the hand of him who was the master of what had been given. Though both parted good friends, this first expression of German romantic feeling for Rome implied as little concerning Charle- magne's relations to the Papacy as did his later visits and meetings with the Pope.

Everyone knows how he cleared a path for the Cross with his sword during the years that followed. This conqueror was a missionary and an educator. As a king he added steadily to the dominions of the Church, which seemed to this passionate friend of progress the supreme thought and the primal force behind everything done to strengthen either the Empire or the activities of the human mind. In the spirit of the ancient Prophets, he unearthed the ethical element in religion and therewith imbued the Romanism, of which he himself had so deep an experience, with German seriousness on German soil. On the other hand he bound the strong moral treasure of his Germans to the world of ecclesiastical symbols and laws, stemming the dangers of the trend ad intra (which Schiller terms a German trait) by es- tablishing religious dogma as the barrier to endless roaming amid the infinite.

Men's feelings had been dominated by the Christian message long before his time; and even in times of Merovingian worldliness men had wanted to feel the breath of the Church upon them in difficult hours. The dying had put on penitential robes after their final con- fessions, had asked to lie on beds of ashes, and had received the Eu- charist before "joining the wild army' 1 or riding "to the old company." But the kind of religion which Charlemagne spread in the wake of Willibrord and Wynnfrith was a greater moral force, was of a more


lucid intellectual substance. Through the artists and scholars who lived at his court he fostered the work of the Carolingian renaissance, about which so many debates have been held. It was an attempt to make available to the present surviving remnants of antique culture. Undoubtedly it had a dash of pedantry, of awkward ceremoniousness before strange gods. It can be criticized for having prevented or at least staved off the birth and growth of a native, national culture. All this, however, is useless fault-finding with history, and obscures one's insight into the true mission of that epoch. Had it not been for the broad vision of a ruler who did not cease to be Franconian with his whole heart when he raised antique culture out of oblivion, there would have been no mediaeval age of German minsters, no second Renaissance, no culture at the French courts, no baroque art and no German clas- sicism. The alien Latin mind to which he played the nurse fostered the European universalism of the Church and therewith also the Euro- pean consciousness. Beyond that he strengthened the vision of the inner unity of culture when he placed it under the aegis of Christen- dom. Charlemagne must be given his full share of credit whenever after his time the lyre and the sword are in harmony and when both of them consort with the Cross. For him everything was so unques- tionably subordinate to the idea of the One Kingdom of God, whom all that is earthly must serve, that he was not conscious of a sharp conflict between the worldly and the spiritual. "The monks at his court also say without hesitation: it is immaterial for the salvation of a man whether he live in a monastery or in the world." It seems that many of his people were rendered happy by a feeling that they dwelt in the peace of a theocratically ordered existence. A poet of his day wrote that though elsewhere in the world men praised the ages of gold, everybody in the kingdom of the Franks held that the present was far superior to the past.

Charlemagne's kingdom was theocratic and it is in this sense that the position of its ruler must be understood. In his first edict he referred to himself as anointed through the grace of God; and these words possessed for him all the ancient significance. He knew that he was the leader of Christendom, not merely of his own people; and the theologians in his circle called him the new David, viceroy of God, or viceroy of Christ. He made the law of the Church the law of


the realm. He required his subjects to swear an oath of allegiance to their ruler, in which at the same time they vowed to live a life ac- cording to God's commandments. Sternly and gently alike he im- posed his will as rector ecclesiee upon minds throughout his kingdom, and so provided for the education of clergy, the monks and people. His broad regulations for the conduct of the ecclesiastical and worldly estates formed a program binding his peoples to the divine law. There is, for example, his famous message of 789, which a thousand years before the proclamation of the rights of man by the Paris assembly, called itself a warning of love and looked upon kingship by the grace of God as a duty in which arrogance has no part. In this message Charlemagne termed himself the humble protector of the Church and the supporter of the Apostolic See in all things. In reality he regarded himself as the divinely appointed monarch of an Empire to which a theocratic authority of the Imperial Church gave the character of an ecclesiastical Empire. In this conception there was no room for a powerful, or even an independent Papacy. Charlemagne did not question the Roman primacy, indeed he saw in it the source and safe- guard of true doctrine. He clung strictly to the dogma of the Roman Church, made the divine service he attended conform more and more fully to the Roman model, and insisted upon a similar conformity in outward things, even to the kind of shoes his clergy wore. Yet in spite of this unconditional recognition of Rome as the religious norm, he beheld in the Pope merely the first among all the bishops the praying Moses, for whose sake God granted success to the conquering, law-giving arm of the Imperial master.

The Popes were forced to put up with not only the political su- premacy of the patricius in so far as the worldly possessions of the Roman See were concerned but also with what he desired in his capacity as sovereign within the Church. A conflict concerning images re- vealed the deep inner contradictions and the fragility of the new rela- tionship which had been established between Rome and the Empire of the Franks. It was a religious struggle fought out between two camps, but it was also a political struggle in which three powers clashed.

Emperor Leo III, the founder of the Isaurian dynasty, had gained a victory over the Mohammedan Saracens and then set about reforming his decaying Byzantine Empire. A tendency to look upon matters

86 of the cult with a sensitive Semitic rigour appeared in reaction against the boundless, superstitious veneration of holy images, against which Gregory the Great had already warned the West. The Emperor, who was won over to this point of view, loosed a destructive wave of Iconoclasm, possibly because he wished to curry favour with his Iconoclastic Islamic neighbours. The consequence was that during the reign of his son, Constantine Copronymus, there followed a cruel persecution of the monastic opposition. It was not until the widowed regent, Irene, intervened that a temporary truce was established. Under her regency the Second General Council of Nice restored the Catholic rule in 787, and the veneration of images was again declared legitimate in the East.

At this Council two Roman legates also spoke in the name of Pope Hadrian. His predecessors had already defended the old custom against the East, fully conscious as they were that the Church of the West was gaining new political strength and that there was a general trend toward separation from Imperial territories so overburdened with taxes. But now decisions of the Council met with resistance from the Franks. Charlemagne, through his theologians, fought against the Eastern way of venerating religious images. The reason was not merely that wholly misleading translations of the documents set before him had given him to understand that not merely veneration, but actual worship of the images had been permitted. It was also and primarily an attitude of jealousy toward Byzantium as well as a goodly measure of annoyance at the role which the Pope had played in this matter. While Prankish ambassadors resided in Constantinople to promote the betrothal of Charlemagne's daughter to the son of Irene, preparations for the Council were under way. This circumstance and the fact that he was the powerful lord of Western Christianity sufficed to make him certain that he would be asked to share in the synod, which was of a universal character. But Irene did not extend an invitation to the Prankish Church, obviously because Pope Hadrian had sought to keep Charlemagne out. This and in all probability other incidents that had followed the engagement, induced Charlemagne to break it off and thereupon to adopt an openly hostile attitude towards Byzantium. When the Council announced its decisions, he answered with a statement of opposing views drawn up by his theologians. A CAROLINI 87

biting north wind blows through the pages of these Libri Carolini, Charlemagne demanded that the Pope repudiate a Council which, not having consulted him who by the grace of God was King of the Franks, ruler over Gaul, Germany, Italy and the neighbouring prov- inces, and to whom there had been entrusted the guidance of the Church through the stormy seas of this world, had thus gone utterly astray. There could be no doubt (the Libri said) , that the Franks were in agreement with the true teaching of the Roman Church, whose primacy they had always recognized; but the Greeks had deviated from the truth. The situation was ominously grave. Pope Hadrian, resorting to a moderate position, defended the Council against Charle- magne's attack and warded off his interference in the teaching office of the Church. But he himself weakened the force of his argument by making the quite improper suggestion that if the King so willed, he would nevertheless declare the Emperor a heretic if he refused to restore certain possessions of the Church. Charlemagne thus obtained the last word in this struggle, and he used it as a telling trump card against the Pope. Insisting upon his authority to guide the Church aright, he summoned a General Council of the West to Frankfort in 794. This repudiated what had been done at Nice and opposed to the decisions of the Greeks concerning which, of course, he was grievously in error new decisions by the Prankish Church.

Hadrian died during the following year. The coins which he had struck after Charlemagne's second visit to Rome in 781 as well as the new practice adopted by the Papal chancellery of reckoning years from the beginning of Charlemagne's reign, proved to the East that it had lost the battle of the images, the last test of strength between the Em- peror and the Church, and that the Prankish kingdom was now quite as powerful as the Byzantine realm. Soon the new Pope Leo III found out how wisely his predecessors had acted when they avoided a breach with the Franks. He sent the king a copy of the electoral returns together with a vow of loyalty, added the keys to the grave of Peter and the banner of Rome, and requested in return that Charle- magne send ambassadors to receive proofs of Rome's goodwill. Char- lemagne acceded and sent Leo gifts consisting of parts of the booty taken in the wars against the Avars. The Pope caused a new mosaic to be placed in the rectory of the Lateran Palace, portraying his con-


ception of the harmony existing between the two powers. Above the niche picture depicting the sending of the apostles by the Master, one saw on the left hand Christ giving the keys to Peter, and the banner with the cross to Constantine. On the right hand, Peter was shown giving the kneeling Pope the pallium and the likewise kneeling Prankish king a pointed flag shaped like a lance. But soon afterward, during the spring of 799, a conspiracy organized by relatives of Hadrian brought Leo into dire straits. According to an ancient custom, he was on horseback at the head of the St. Mark's Day procession; and he was set upon by his enemies, who tore off his robes and dragged him away to a monastery. With the help of his companions he escaped by climbing down a rope and went back to St. Peter's. Worse than the attack itself was the reason advanced for it that the Pope had been guilty of adultery and perjury.

Leo fled to Charlemagne's court at Paderborn. There the whole incident was already known. Soon there also appeared legates of the attacking party. The King s circle held diverse opinions regarding what should be done. Some believed that the accused pontiff was innocent and others doubted it. But was it legitimate to sit in judg- ment over the Apostolic See? What Pope would be secure if Roman factions were allowed to dethrone a Pontiff they disliked? Would it not be best to induce Leo to retire quiedy? Or ought one to demand that the Pope swear an oath to prove his innocence, since the reproaches made against him were so grave and so specific? Charlemagne could not make up his mind and mistrusted both sides. He demanded that an investigation be made in Rome and sent the bishops and nobles who were to undertake that investigation back to the city with Leo. The inquiry could prove so little that the German judges refused to commit themselves. The leaders of the rebellion were not executed but were sent across the Alps to Charlemagne. Then he himself made the journey to the Eternal City during November of 800. Anxious to rescue the Pope, if that were possible, he presented him with the alternative of retiring or cleansing himself by swearing a solemn oath. Thereupon Leo vowed his innocence in the pulpit of St. Peter's, and this action was accepted as a vindication. The de- feated antagonists were condemned to death by Charlemagne, but he thereupon pardoned them. Thus he protected the highest office on


earth from the gravest attacks that had been made upon it, transferred the moral responsibility for the solution of this dark affair to the person of the accused, treated the plaintiffs justly and mercifully alike, and stood before the humbled Pope as his judging sovereign.

On the same day, the 23d of December, monks of Jerusalem (where the Caliph of Bagdad now lorded it over the Christians) paid homage to the King of the Franks and in the name of the Patriarchs of Con- stantinople sent him a flag and the keys of Jerusalem and the holy places. Therewith the Church of the East requested the protection of the bulwark of all Christendom. What more did Charlemagne need to become all-powerful in lands professing the Christian name? Two days later the Pope surprised him with a Christmas gift just as he was rising from prayer at the grave of the Apostles: it was the Im- perial crown. The jubilant acclamation of the people was directed to this most pious Augustus, the great Emperor, whom God had crowned and who would bring peace. Before him Leo genuflected in homage, according to the Byzantine custom. Through this sudden occurrence the Roman-German Empire came into being.

We of the present do not know what caused the Pope to act thus or what role the ruler who was crowned played in the matter. There are witnesses who assert that Charlemagne had not wanted such a crown at all. It is usually said that neither Pope nor Emperor was accorded a status essentially different, and that die balance of power remained what it had been. That may be true, but the strongest force in history is not the mere event but the response which men make to that event. Though Charlemagne did not actually possess more or consider himself more after he had obtained the Imperial crown, Christendom as a whole received, because of that crown, a deeper con- ception of the dignity of its protector and a new reason for believing that the old Empire had been transferred to the Franks in accordance with the will of Providence. Certainly the Papacy gained whether the monarch did or not. The fact that the Pope acted as one who bestowed the crown surrounded him with an aura of supernal power regardless of whether the monarch was informed in advance of the coronation or whether it came as a surprise to him. In the eyes of the world the Papacy was now identified with the idea that the temporal power received its loftiest consecration and confirmation from the


spiritual power. Possibly the Pope did not act so subtly, but the fact remained that the Lateran mosaic which pictures the two powers kneeling in equal rank before Christ and Peter had already been ren- dered obsolete. Just a few days previous Leo had awaited the verdict of his judge. Now that judge was of lower rank than he.

As Emperor, Charlemagne continued to govern the Church as he had governed it when he was only a king. He brought to it a pros- perity so great that since his time the Papacy has seldom been able to achieve anything comparable. He ploughed the Roman field and sowed the seed of its future greatness. But the unification of powers which he assumed proved no unmingled blessing in this theocracy. By enlisting his clergy, particularly the prelates, for the business of the state on equal terms with the other officials, and by conferring on them especial rights and privileges, Charlemagne unwittingly paved the way for a worldliness that would seriously impair the social structure. Indeed the disease would have become incurable later, had there not been a Papacy not subservient to an Emperor.

Hardly had Charlemagne been laid in his grave than the Empire and the Imperial authority weakened in the hands of his quarrelling heirs. A party of spiritual and temporal nobles was gradually or- ganized on the basis of common conviction that only across the Alps was there a centre where the conception of universal unity remained alive amidst the all-surrounding decay. Another faction clung to the spirit of Charlemagne and bluntly opposed the Pope when he refused to do the Imperial bidding. But Rome gradually rose from its position of subservience; it had only drawn back in order to prepare for a resurgence soon to follow. The Popes who ruled during the first half of the ninth century were not great men but they were con- scious of the duties incumbent on their office.

In all probability the notorious document known as the "Donation of Constantine" dates from the first years of the reign of Louis the Pious, the son of Charlemagne by Hildegarde. It is a forgery which purports to be a document executed by Constantine the Great in favour of Pope Sylvester I and the Roman Church. It states that out of gratitude to the Pope, who had converted, baptized and healed him of the plague, the Emperor had confirmed the subservience of all the churches of the world, including the four Oriental Patriarchies,


to the Roman See. It adds that he had given Sylvester and his suc- cessors the Lateran Palace, the City of Rome, Italy and indeed the whole of Europe. Furthermore he had granted Imperial privileges, insignia and honours to the Pope, and had conferred the senatorial dignity on the Roman clergy. According to Max Biichner, the spuri- ous document may have been fabricated by Prankish groups anxious to promote their own ends in Prankish politics when Louis met Pope Stephen IV at Rheims, though Rome and the Papacy may also have had a hand in the matter. The effect of the "Donation" on world history is not affected by the multiform attacks made by anti-curialistic writers on its validity as law. The Popes themselves began to regard it as a basis for extensive claims to power only after the middle of the eleventh century. Its importance had by no means ceased when secular and religious scholars of the fifteenth century realized that the document was a forgery, executed long after Constantine's time.

After the Empire was divided into three kingdoms by the Treaty of Verdun (843), the Papacy had a clear path to a stronger position above the ruins of the once proud imperial unity. The mission to the Swedes, Danes and Slavs was begun. In order to ward off maraud- ing bands of Saracens who in 846 pillaged the basilicas outside the walls of Rome, Leo IV fortified the Vatican Quarter and himself assisted in the destruction of the enemy fleet. It was symbolic of the restoration of the spiritual power to its former status when, in official correspondence, this same Pope used the Papal reckoning of dates side by side with the Imperial reckoning. But though the sense of independence was stronger in Rome, it was contemporaneous with the growth of ambition of the prelatical party in Western France, where the episcopacy was freeing itself from the bonds of the state establish- ment. A juridical situation which made it far too completely con- tingent upon local authorities, metropolitan sees and national synods, seemed unendurable to this group. Yet it could attain independence only if a new legal foundation was established. Lacking any other recourse, the clergy undertook in its own right to amend die Prankish canon law. About 850 canonists of Rheims collected legal sources which professed to be the work of the great Isidore of Seville, an encyclopedic scholar of the seventh century. These "Decretals of Pseudo-Isidore," which were regarded as genuine up until the fifteenth


century, are as a matter of fact fraudulent and contain genuine, doc- tored and invented sources. From the beginning it ?vas not meant to be an enterprise beneficial to the Papacy; it was rather designed to strengthen episcopal authority. Yet its most definite characteristic was a tendency to bind the offices of the Church more closely to the Roman See, and so it became a weapon upon which the Papal Primacy heavily relied.

The counter-attack of the universal Church against the German Im- perial Church was led by Pope Nicholas I. He was one of the great Popes, and every subsequent illustrious pontiff has borne some of the features of this veritable ruler. Like Leo I and Gregory I, he combined personal superiority with the majesty of office. The devotion of his fiery soul to his cause was just as uncompromising as his belief in the sacredness of that cause. He led a life of strict purity, and the moral nobility of his official acts would have remained unquestioned if he had never succumbed to the temptation or the tragic necessity that lies in all vigorous political action. This is the temptation to achieve holy purposes through less holy means; and the Pope suc- cumbed to it when he declared that the principles contained in Pseudo- Isidore were ancient laws preserved in Roman archives. It is, of course, true that the collection mingled truth with falsehood. He needed these decretals when the dirty romance of Lothar I V's marriage- bargain revealed the great evils of a situation in which authority lay neither with the Church nor with the state because each had suc- cumbed to the other and to the lowest instincts.

From youth Lothar had been enamoured of Walrada, and had had children by her. But when he ascended the throne, he wedded Thict- berga because he hoped to attain some political advantage through her brother, the corrupt priestly Count Hucbert of St. Maurice, who ruled over the Rhone valley. After a year she had still borne him no child and so he cast her off, accusing her of having committed sodomy with her brother. The trial of this defenseless creature saw princes and prelates, perjurers and receivers of bribes, vie with one another in meanness. It was a long series of torments for the victim of Lothar, who was now once more living with Walrada. The Queen turned


to the Pope for aid; a synod of Lorraine bishops had shielded the adulterer and .sanctioned his marriage with Walrada, who became queen. Lothar also tried to win Nicholas over to his side with fawn- ing letters; and his brother, Emperor Louis, threatened Rome with an army. The only powerful defender of the inviolability of Thiet- berga's marriage was Hinkmar, Archbishop of Rheims and one of the illustrious men of the time. In all other respects a deep gulf lay be- tween the Pope and this protagonist of an episcopacy welded to the state. In one tract he spoke in behalf of the persecuted queen, and also referred to Rome as the seat of a judge who ranked above archbishops and kings. And indeed Nicholas was not to be cowed by royal threats. He condemned the dual marriage as a crime and excom- municated the bishops involved in the affair from their offices, their priestly functions and the Church. Once again Lothar was united with Thietberga, and again he broke the troth. Then the Pope im- posed the ban on Walrada, forbade the broken-hearted queen to give way to her rival, and threatened to excommunicate the guilty tor- mentors. It is true that he died before the close of what he himself termed "this sad drama*'; but his granite-like firmness had won a moral victory for the Papacy over the state church, and had sealed the triumph of a religious ideal over the demands of the flesh.

All the actions of this inflexible Pontiff were based upon a profound desire to transform the Imperial Church into a Papal Church. Whether he fought against Hinkmar of Rheims as the exponent of Gallican ecclesiastical individualism, whether he banned die Arch- bishop of Ravenna for having been guilty of rude excesses, or whether in a Byzantium long since the prey of jealousy he repelled the base flattery of Patriarch Photius, so anxious to secure the recognition of Rome, and removed his own papal legates from office for having taken bribes the point was always that even in his most daring utterances he was very much in earnest. He realized that he must be the con- science of his time, and literally made himself that conscience. To him the Papacy was the representative of God on earth, the founda- tion and norm of all order in human society. The Pope could, he held, judge all men, but could be judged by none save God, who would judge him more sternly than the rest. It is no wondet that his own


rime said of him: since the days of St. Gregory there had been no Pope like this. He issued commands to kings and tyrants as if he were the master of all the world.

But the building he erected soon began to totter, and the fall thereof was great.


Many things brought about the dissolution of the Prankish Empire. The post-Charlemagne partitions had a deep and lasting effect, be- cause as a result one people was sundered from another. The Franco- Germanic element parted company with the Gallo-Roman and Celtic elements and developed its own individual character inside the vast common enclosure of ecclesiastical culture and feudal society, which everywhere determined the quality of civic life. Nationalist con- ceptions were at the bottom of the Treaty of Meersen (870) which gave the countries inhabited predominantly by Romanic peoples to Charles the Bald, and awarded the German districts to Louis the Ger- man* Inside these divisions of the Empire still smaller independent civic units appeared the hereditary duchies. Nevertheless the imperial idea of Charlemagne remained a political and spiritual force and won ground in Germany during the tenth century. In the West, however, political unsettlement prevailed in spite of a more advanced culture. Before the year 900 Alfred the Great in England had brought his kingdom to a high state of civilization; two centuries later it was to become the possession of the Normans. A small, northern Chris- tian kingdom maintained itself in Spain against the Caliphs of Cor- dova until well into the eleventh century, when the inner weakness of the Islamic power made possible an extension of the Church's in- fluence. Italy, finally, was the scene of wholesale political conflicts fought out between princes of Prankish blood, Roman noble families, Byzantines and Saracens. Europe as a whole was everywhere so threatened by swarming mobs of Normans, Magyars and Saracens, that its very civic and ecclesiastical existence seemed insecure.

The only thing that held society together was the consciousness of belonging to one and the same Christendom. This no longer pos- sessed the purity, power and profundity of the primeval people of God, for the reason that the Church now embraced all men: the elect and those who were not called. Nevertheless the supernatural being of the Church, its faith and its demands on human nature, had re- mained the same frpm the beginning despite all the silt the world had deposited upon them. Yes, its inner power revealed itself the more



when the extensiveness of its efforts gave rise constantly to a cry for a deeper religious life, resounding all the more loudly when there was peril of ruinous worldliness. And that danger grew much more im- minent when the highest Captains of the Church seemed more like Anti-Christ than Christ, of whom the witnesses to all the evils that afflicted the Papacy declared that only He, though He might be asleep on the ship, had guided the Church safely through storm and wave. The Church existed nearly a century under figureheads or villains who termed themselves Popes; and the people kept alive and honoured the idea of the Papacy, despite the succession of traitors to that idea.

At the close of the first millennium, three powers struggled for the possession of Peter's See: first of all, the two political powers, Nation- alistic Romanism and the Roman Empire of the German nation; and then the autonomous religious ideal of a politically free Church. They followed one another historically and then gradually disappeared; but all laid hands upon the whole treasure-trove of spiritual and tem- poral power which the Roman See had become. The religious ideal proved itself the strongest of the three. With its help, the universal Papacy triumphed over its national Roman and its imperial German rivals. But when the historian views the development as a whole and its consequences he learns that victory and defeat are only names which like all conclusions to which he may arrive are likely to be proved erroneous and inaccurate by later events.

The aged Pope Hadrian II took up the reins when the great Nicholas dropped them. He reconciled the adulterous Lothar with the Church and gave him Holy Communion at Monte Cassino. Then the King died on the journey homeward, and both the women who mourned him took the veil. It seemed as if Lothar's restless soul were haunt- ing the land he had left behind him the land that had become an eternal battlefield between neighbours to the east and west. Against the will of the Pope, who had wanted Louis II (the Emperor who was battling against die Saracens in Southern Italy), to be the heir to Lorraine, Charles the Bald took possession of the kingdom and was crowned by Hinkmar, Archbishop of Rheims, who, with Gallican in- dependence, ignored the Pope's request. It was also in vain that the


Pope urged Charles to deal humanely with his rebellious son who had been blinded and imprisoned. Hadrian's young successor, John VIII, set out to reign with a firmer hand; but though he conferred the Im- perial crown on Charles he received no aid against the ever-increasing pressure of the Saracens. The small states of Italy were collapsing by reason of mutual jealousies, and for the time being the Pope had to buy the Saracens off with heavy annuities. While the corre- spondence which the Pope's chancellery conducted with Germany, France, England, Spain, Byzantium and Jerusalem shows how vast was the extent of the Pope's spiritual power, he remained personally helpless, as the Roman factions conspired against him because of his Prankish sympathies. He had no other weapon than the ban, and this fell primarily on Bishop Formosus of Porto, whose name thence- forth was dominant throughout all the factional warfare. The Lords of Spoleto and Tuscany invaded the Papal States, occupied Rome, and kept Pope John himself a prisoner until he signed every promise ex- acted of him. Then he fled to France; but there also he could find no dependable ally for the Roman See. When he returned he found that Photius, the Patriarch of Byzantium, had betrayed his friendship, and that he was compelled to recognize the abominable Charles the Fat as King of Italy as well as, finally, to crown him Emperor. The next year (882) the Pope fell victim to a conspiracy. The poison which a relative, who himself wanted to become Pope and a wealthy man, gave him worked too slowly. Thereupon the assassin finished his work with a hammer.

Then there followed that bloody farce which plays the same role in the history of the Papacy that was played by the bailiffs and the traitors in Christ's Passion. The epileptic Charles the Fat had united on his head all the crowns of the first Carolingian Empire. But on the Day of Tribur (887) he returned all to his nobles and his despairing peoples with a plea for mercy. In Germany his nephew Arnulf became king; and in Italy the choice lay between Beranger of Friuli and Vido of Spoleto until the second gained the upper hand. He was awarded the Imperial crown; and before he died his son Lambert was crowned by the same Bishop Formosus, who had now finally gained possession of the Roman See. The aged Pope, a man of impeccable conduct whom Nicholas had in his time entrusted with important business,


had in the meantime been freed of the ban and also of the vow he had taken nevermore to return to Rome or to resume his former dignity. Once become Pope, he felt that the pressure exerted by the nobles of Spoleto was an ignoble limitation of his powers; and he summoned King Arnulf, just previously victorious over the Normans, to come to his aid against them. Then he also crowned him Emperor. Just a few weeks after Arnulf departed, the Pope died and Lambert again set out to recover his lost greatness. The faction of Spoleto nobles avenged themselves on the dead Pope. Stephen VI, a pontiff to their liking, exhumed the body which had lain nine months in the grave, placed it in full pontifical raiment on the throne in St. Peter's, and passed judgment on it before an assembled synod. There was a formal trial. Three accusers appeared and there was also a counsel for the defense. It was decided that the pontificate had been illegal and that everything the Pope had done while in office was null and void. They tore the robes from his body, chopped off the finger with which he had imparted blessings, dragged the corpse through the city streets, and threw it into the Tiber. Some months later the people rose and seized the ghoulish Stephen while he was in Church. He was strangled to death in prison. One of his successors, Theodore II, buried the body of Formosus, which had been recovered by fisher- men, with the honours due to a Pope and proclaimed the orders he had imparted to be valid. The good name of Formosus was wholly restored when John V called a synod which condemned the trial held over his dead body and burned the records which had been kept of the proceedings. But at the same rime John proclaimed that Arnulf had not been rightly crowned Emperor. Lambert was present, but im- mediately afterward fell a victim to an assassin; and in the same year (899) Arnulf also died, leaving Germany to a child who could not retain the crown. Beranger made himself master of Italy.

While the Magyars beset the land from the North, and Saracens pressed against it from the South, noble families which had grown strong were plotting in the castles and palaces of Rome, the Campagna and the mountains, to seize the offices and riches of Rome. The wealthy house of the Counts of Tuscany in the Albanian Mountains became the masters for decades. They considered Circe to have been their original ancestress; and their women, who swayed Rome by


freely offering their beautiful bodies, really seemed to have in their veins the blood of this enchantress who had changed the friends of Odysseus into beasts. This notorious band of harlots involved the Papacy too, in its cbronique scandalettse. The three graces were Theodora the elder, who called herself Synatrix and was by her first marriage the wife of Count Theophylact and by her second marriage the spouse of the Margrave Adalbert of Tuscany; and her daughters Theodora the younger, and Marozia (Maruccia, little Maria) . The political idea that dominated this house was the idea of Rome, of national independence after a long period of subservience to strangers. It was modern Italy's first effort to recover the ancient power and glory of Rome. In order to carry out the plan they needed to domi- nate the Roman See; and so, the nobles who had joined forces with them took possession of it as the most powerful instrument for realizing their national purpose.

The Tuscan faction raised one of its members to the Papal throne when Sergius III (904-911) was elected. His contemporaries praised him as an energetic man who had rebuilt the Lateran Basilica after its collapse and who had restored the bonds of union with the Greek Church. But Bishop Luitprand of Cremona, whose chronicle gar- nered every suspicion, professed to know that the Pope had an affair with Marozia, the newly-wedded wife of the Lombard ruler Margrave Alberich of Spoleto. After Sergius came John X, a relative of Theo- dora, who in a spirit of service to the national ideal of Theophylact organized a union of Italian princes. With their help as well as with the aid of Byzantium, he won in 915 the brilliant victory of Garigliano over the menacing Saracens. But his resistance to the growing power of the nobles and his attempt to foster the German kingdom had a tragic outcome. After the murder (924) of Beranger, who had helped to win the victory over the sons of the desert, the Tuscan party felt that the way was clear for its absolute dominion. They gave the most curt possible reply to the Pope's suggestion that Hugh of Provence, the successor of Beranger as King of Italy, be crowned Emperor so that he might protect the Roman See. Marozia and her second husband, Vido of Tuscany, Hugh's step-brother, had the Pope strangled in prison. In 931, after Vido too had died, Marozia placed one of her two sons (whose father had been Alberich, if not Sergius


III) on the Papal throne. Then she took King Hugh as her third husband; but her wish that she might receive the Imperial Crown from her Papal son was not granted. The marriage with Hugh took place at San Angelo's in 932 and became the scene of a rebellion. Her other son Alberich, named for his father, drove off the alien Hugh and imprisoned his mother and the Pope in San Angelo. Then for twenty-two years he kept Rome and a timorous series of four Popes under his thumb, while the kingdom was passing (945) from Hugh to Beranger of Ivrea, the nephew of the Spoletan noble of the same name. Alberich proved his liking for a religious Church by showing favour to the new monastic movement which had come to Italy from France, but his last act was to bequeath to the Papacy the worst legacy he could have left it. When he died in 954 he made the Roman nobles swear that they would elect his son Pope. His name was Octavian a name given to express the hopes which had been placed on the national movement; and this the seventeen-year-old magnate was also expected to serve after his election to the Holy See. He was the first Pope to change his name, calling himself John XII.

This roisterer was in all truth a caricature of the hero whom his father had imagined would carry out his boldly conceived but romantic and insufficiently buttressed policy. Not even the desire to serve the strong national purpose remained. This boy, who paraded about in the mantle of the Pope, was utterly unsuited even to that task. Ber- anger, who had secured for himself and his son Adalbert the kingly crown in 950, sought to cement his power and royal dignity by marry- ing his son to the widow of Lothar, son of King Hugh. When this lovely young woman Adelheid of Burgundy refused to enter the union, she was maltreated and kept under strict arrest. But she escaped and called on Otto I, the German King, for aid. This great Saxon was already the master of a flourishing and firmly established realm. For a long time he had carefully followed developments in Italy, being all the more deeply interested because an ambition to extend his rule over the world and to gain the Imperial crown had borne his thoughts southward. Therefore he marched to Italy in 951, ac- cepted the homage of the nobles at Pavia, and himself (he was until then a widower) married Adelheid with brilliant ceremoniousness. The Imperial crown was still held back by reason of Alberich's re-


sistance, and Alberich was the master of Rome. Moreover Otto's son had rebelled, and the Hungarians were making inroads that neces- sitated his return homeward.

Now once more a Pope reiterated the summons to a worldly arm which two hundred years previous had brought Pepin, the Prankish King, to Italy. John XII needed defense against Beranger s tyranny in the Papal States, and summoned Otto who had meanwhile van- quished the Hungarians. The King came, reaching Rome in 962. After he had promised the Pope security and retention of all his rights, he was solemnly received. But before he entered the Papal palace Otto said to his sword bearer, "When I pray at the tombs of the Apostles be sure to hold my sword constantly above my head; for already my ancestors were suspicious of Roman loyalty. When we get back to Monte Mario you may pray as much as you like." On Candlemas Day, Otto and Adelheid received their crowns peacefully amidst great pomp. The Imperial dignity, once the treasured boon of Europe, had been laid aside for forty years, ever since the death of Beranger of Friuli. Now it was united with the German Empire and it was destined to remain so united. Some days after his coronation Otto renewed the Carolingian Donations, acknowledged the lawful- ness of later additions, and defined what rights the Emperor was to have in the Papal states and at the Papal elections. John XII agreed to everything, and joined the Romans in swearing loyalty to the Em- peror against Beranger of Ivrea and his son Adalbert. But what was a Roman oath? When Otto had marched out to raze Beranger's castles, he was given messages which seemed incredible. He said condoningly that the Pope was still a boy and would improve; but it was not long ere he was shown intercepted letters written by John. The traitor had summoned Adalbert, the Greeks, the Hungarians and the Saracens to war against the Emperor!

Otto turned and marched back toward Rome. When his German troops reached the Tiber they saw the Pope armed with sword and shield, helmet and coat of mail, standing on the other bank. Before they could capture him he fled from the city. The Emperor called a synod in St. Peter's and himself presided over it. The Pope, ac- cused of numberless misdeeds, was dethroned. That was contrary to the law and custom of the Church, but was just as necessary as was


the consecration and ordination the next day of a layman, who took the name of Leo VIIL A heavily bribed mob rioted violently against the new Pope but was soon suppressed by Otto. When the Emperor left the city John returned, drove out Leo (who fled to the Imperial camp) and took cruel revenge on his followers. Then he summoned a new synod which annulled the coronation of the Emperor and the orders received by the other Pope. But returning to his excesses, he died of a stroke, and Leo returned under armed escort furnished by Otto. Meanwhile the Romans had consecrated another Pope, Bene- dict V, but the Emperor carried him off to Germany and placed him under the supervision of the Bishop of Hamburg. In that city this pious, learned man died soon thereafter in the odour of sanctity. Leo had passed into the beyond some time previous.

Though the peoples realized the impotence and ignominy into which the See of Peter had fallen, their faith in its divine significance did not falter. The supernal idea out of which this See had grown made all the faults of those who occupied it still darker; but because there were such Popes and because the chaos in the Church and the world had grown so great, the idea itself appeared to hover ever more alluring and more radiant, above the ruins caused by traitors to the memory of Peter. The throne lost none of its solidity because it had been defiled. This century of degeneration could not undermine what to the men of the Middle Ages seemed the truest of all verities the sovereign world of the supernatural and the spiritual, which remains forever harmonious, exalted, despite all failures to realize an analogy to it here below. This one must bear in mind in order to understand why it was that the provincial churches did not cease to cherish their bond with Rome and despite the Popes to honour the Papacy as a gift from God. Anyone who asks himself whether hunger and love, money and the drawn sword alone make history or whether this is not also the product of the finer energies of the mind and soul; any- one who doubts that the trends of time are moved not by warriors and their fists alone but also by the intangible needs of the inner man; let him look for an answer at this and other dark passages in the story of the Papacy. The power of Peter remained even though there ruled a Pope unable to find carpenters who would bring from the dangerous woods of the Sabine or Albanian hills the timber he needed


to rebuild a roof. Even if during this shameless collapse of Rome, the last New Testament and the last Missal had been destroyed, monks in the cloisters of France, England and Germany would not have ceased to adorn with pictures of the most reverent art and piety the Psalms which they had copied into books.

The Papacy is not the Church, and its decline could not be deeper than the resolve of such men to do their duty and raise it up again. Beyond the Alps there was also much reason to lament the evil ways upon which the Church had fallen; but in no decade of this notorious century was there an absence of blossom and fruit. As soon as one mentions St. Gall, Reichenau, Fulda, Hildesheim, Corby, Malmsbuty, Alfred the Great, Dunstan, Gerbert, Bruno, one senses the vigorous air of the northern spring. And when one has referred to the single Abbey of Cluny in Burgundy, one has pointed out the place where Europe would be reborn in the old disciplined spirit of die Church. While this all renewing stream moved toward the West, it met a second tide of reform which had its source in Germany.

Otto the Great was an heir to Charlemagne's theocratic idea. As he conceived of the Empire, Christendom was one with a politically unified Europe. In order to be master and head of a domain which was divided politically but unified ecclesiastically, he turned his gaze southward. In the north, however, his German Church was most in- timately bound up with the Imperial authority. Otto made the prelates of the Church organs of the government. Bishops and abbots joined the ranks of the counts; archbishops became dukes. When they took over the possessions and administrative rights which went with their rank, they also bound themselves to do the Emperor's bid- ding. Therewith a dam was built against the dangerously growing power of the nobles; the clergy was freed from the long established pressure of temporal dignitaries, and the throne was given dependable support. The education which flourished in the spiritual estate a culture represented by the brilliant figure of Otto's brother, Bruno of Cologne, Archbishop and Chancellor helped to enrich civic life, and the celibacy of priest-officials was also a source of strength. When they died the king could dispose anew of their fiefs and offices.

But the sum-total of liberties in the world has never been larger than the highest conceivable quantity of liberty. In the new order of


things the Church remained the limit beyond which the State could not go, and the State circumscribed the Church no matter how inti- mately it might be associated in the government. Otto conferred ecclesiastical authority on people of his choice by giving them the ring and the staff a practice that was later termed investiture. He did not inquire very deeply into whether or not these men were called to the priesthood. Thus the Church in his time acquired new vigour but it shouldered a heavy temporal bondage in which there lay the tragic germ of conflict with the Imperial authority. This tragedy of a single theocratic idea incorporated in two powers proved inescapable. If the Church was the primal source of the religious conception of the Empire, then the crown and its authority could only be legitimate if they emanated from the Church. Therefore every time the state limited the freedom of the Church, it had necessarily to sacrifice some of its own power and authority. It had, therefore, gradually to sur- render all influence upon the Church, which then, as the unconditioned representation, yes, as the reality of the supernal Civitas Dei on earth, took over world dominion in a higher and deeper sense than the worldly Empire could exemplify. But whether the two powers united forces or separated, they could not escape from each other since conflict between them was contained in the very conception of the Civitas Dei. This conflict was at bottom only a necessary, perma- nently creative duality, similar to that which human nature has to confront unceasingly, by reason of the fact that it is a blend of body and soul, of matter and spirit.

Otto the Great was still far from believing that a separation between the two powers was desirable. He harnessed the Church and the power of the State together in a relationship of mutual service. The impressive progress of his Italian and Imperial policy was not the result of a desire to serve the Popes, for though he held die highest office on earth in reverence, he made himself its master. Yet he rendered the universal Church a service by manifesting to those who guided its destinies, the earnestness with which the German spirit weighed the highest values of life. When in 966 he went to reside in Italy for six years, he insisted that the Church should be safeguarded more firmly there against the ambitions of the nobles who were its officials and vassals. Pope John XIII was himself a nobleman who had been


elected at the Emperor's suggestion, but as the prisoner of the city prefect Peter, he had been made to feel the antagonism to the German rule which prevailed among nationalistically-minded Romans. A year after the election, Otto appeared, liberated the Pope and brought stern judgment to bear on the rebels. Some he exiled; others he blinded or hanged from the gallows. Peter, delivered over to the Pope, was hanged by the hair from the equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelius. The Emperor made Crescentius, a Tuscan nobleman and the son of the younger Theodora, Duke of Rome, believing that he would be loyal to the Pope. But he showed John courtesy only when he found him subservient. In 967 he bade him crown his son Otto II co- Emperor, and won him over to the idea of gaining the Greek posses- sions in Italy for himself through marriage. Theophano, daughter of the Byzantine Emperor, received the Crown from the Pope's hands when in 972 she became the young Otto's wife. Soon afterward both Pope and Emperor died, and Crescentius manifested his true sen- timents. As leader of the nationalist faction, he ordered that the Imperial-minded Pope elected to succeed John be strangled in San Angelo; and before the sentence could be executed, he named as Pope under the name of Boniface VII a cardinal implicated in the plot. Boniface soon fled to the Bosphorus with a rich booty rifled from the Papal treasury.

Otto IFs successes in Italy were not decisive enough to forestall the future rule of Crescentius' faction, but he was able to protect the Pope who ruled during his time (973-983). This was Benedict VII, a Tuscan who had been elected through German influence, whose quiet wprk of reform was carried out in the spirit of Cluny. When Bene- dict died, Otto's wish was granted and the former Chancellor of the Empire became Pope John XIV. Yet before this Pontiff had been a year in office he lost his Imperial protector, who died at the age of twenty-eight, and fell a victim to the aristocratic faction. Boniface now returned from exile, and Benedict was thrown into a dungeon at San Angelo, where he starved to death. The year following Boni- face himself was slain, and his body dragged through the streets. Cencius, son of Crescentius, now remained the master of Rome for a decade while the Empress Theophano acted as Regent for her infant son, Otto III. Cencius' own creature John XV began to yearn for


liberation from the tyranny of his master, and was supported by the Roman people who also clamoured for a new Emperor. Moreover the Church of France, where Hugh Capet had ascended the kingly throne in 987 and where Gerbert, the great Benedictine scholar, was entrusted with political policy, hurled the full bitterness of long- accumulated wrath at the scandals of Rome and its Pope, who was termed the anti-Christ. The French threatened a schism, holding that Rome had lost Alexandria and Antioch, and now was beginning to lose Europe as well as Africa and Asia. Byzantium had already severed relations; and in the heart of Spain no one any longer paid attention to the edicts of Rome. The consequence must therefore be not only the division of peoples but also of the Church. They added that Rome was now isolated, having neither a counsel for itself nor a counsel for others.

In 996 Otto III marched on Rome, taking with him Gerbert, who after many vicissitudes had become his teacher. On the way the King received the news of John XV's death. He advised the Roman dig- nitaries who sent a delegation to him, to elect his excellently educated young cousin the next Pope. This was done and so the first German Pope took office as Gregory V. He gave the Gallican Church new hope that the Papacy would prove worthy of the heritage. Mean- while he also defended the interests of his See unflinchingly against the French King Robert, and even against Gerbert who was the Emperor's favourite. In every possible way he promoted the Cluny reform. But there was a trait of priestly gentleness in his disposition which proved his undoing. Crescentius, whom the Emperor had first banned and then pardoned at Gregory's suggestion, enkindled a rebellion the purpose of which was to free Rome from German control with the help of Greek allies. Gregory was obliged to flee and to surrender his See to Crescentius' anti-Pope John XVI. This Greek, who had formerly been Theophano's chaplain and her legate to the Eastern court, betrayed both the Saxon royal house and die Roman Church. There was imminent danger that the Greek army would stir the whole of Italy to rebellion against the Germans. But in 998 the Emperor returned to judge and avenge. Crescentius was beheaded on the roof of San Angelo, and John fell into the hands of German soldiers who treated him according to the Greek custom. Blinded, with his nose


and ears cut off, he was hailed before a synod in the Lateran, which stripped him of the Papal dignity. Then seated backward on an ass, he was led through the streets of Rome.

Gregory returned and restored order in his chaotic realm. He named Gerbert Archbishop of Ravenna and Viceroy of the Exarchate. He even managed to win the confidence of the Roman people. Un- fortunately he died very suddenly (999) at the age of twenty-seven, and with him there disappeared one in whom both the Church and the Emperor had placed great confidence. The news came to Otto at Monte Cassino. He left this monastery, where he had returned to pray, in order to proceed to Rome; but before he reached the city, he visited places of pilgrimage in the Apulean Hills and consulted with monks and hermits. While he disciplined his body and his soul, he beheld himself in his dreams as the winner of world dominion over the resistance offered by Greece and Byzantium, the city which had long since fascinated him, possibly by reason of some secret influence of his mother's blood. Then he went on to the tents of the Saint Nilus, whom he had once promised to spare the life of the Greek Pope John. But Otto had broken this pledge and Nilus had retired into this lonely place to mourn for friends who had fallen victims to the Imperial wrath. Otto, long since grown moody because his chimeri- cal world-empire did not take form, pleaded in vain with the Saint to accompany him to Rome. Accordingly he knelt to pray at his side; and when he left he placed his crown in the hands of the Saint whose blessing he received, as a sign that he put little store by worldly power.

One among the Emperor's retinue, who was not less concerned about the coming Papal election than was his master, may then have remembered the hour in which his monarch had paid homage on his knees to Romuald, son of a duke and second saint of this land which then lived in a state of mystical exaltation. That had occurred on an island off Ravenna. This one was Gerbert, Archbishop of Ravenna, the fatherly Dadalus who accompanied his pupil on his Icarian flight toward Imperial and ecclesiastical world dominion over the nations of the West. Gerbert was then placed by his master on the throne of Peter, and took the name of Sylvester II. He was the first French Pope, a man of brilliant mind who yearned to know and understand


all things. He was a lover of learning for learning's sake and a pow- erful magnet that drew the studious youth of France, Germany and Italy to his feet at Rheims, then the most universalistic institute of culture. His contemporaries were often astounded at the worldly nature of his studies; and after his death it was rumoured that he had made a pact with the Devil. Gerbert had cultivated his genius for mathematics and natural sciences in Arabian Spain. In the Palatinate, his association with both Ottos had fostered his native political bent. It could not be expected thaiKthis French Pontiff would encourage his German disciple to adopt a strong German policy. The Emperor, who wore on his belt buckle a rune in praise of Rome, and allegorical representations of the three divisions of the world as symbols of his claim to universal power, seemed to the Pope himself more a Byzan- tine and a Roman than a German.

Having now become the successor of Peter, Sylvester uncompromis- ingly adopted the outlook of Papal authority and strove to elevate his See above all states. He now thought as a Roman, no longer as a Gallican; and he was anxious to carry out a Christian world policy having supernatural objectives. It was not to the advantage of the German mission in the East chat he aided the Poles and the Hungarians by erecting metropolitan sees at Gnesen and Gran and by conferring on Stephen the Holy Crown, implying civic and racial independence. He was also the first to draw up a great and far-sighted plan for a crusade against the Turks. Nothing came of it.

Otto, who had forgotten his Germans while dreaming of world Empire, had now to face the fact that the German princes were con- spiring against him and that the German bishops were revolting against the Papal authority. He was now also to learn what national- ist passions slumbered in the hearts of his beloved Romans. They hated the foreign Emperor and the foreign Pope. Once more the nobles of the city raised the Roman flag, though their enemy was an Emperor who had created the city's new glory in the world. It did not help the German-Greek monarch greatly that he calmed the populace once more in beautiful Latin from his castle on the Aventine, and that a few leaders of the uprising were brought to his feet in chains. He was compelled to leave Rome and never again beheld the Aventine. He died (1001) at the age of twenty-two in the arms


of the French Pope at Paterno on the Soracte, yearning for his German homeland. Sylvester lived out another year in the Lateran amidst his parchments and his astronomical globes, while the Crescentians took advantage of the fact that the Imperial power slumbered and once more gained control of the city. In the North the Margrave Arduin of Ivrea proclaimed himself the new king and raised the stand- ard of Italian unity and independence. John Crescentius, son of the man who had been beheaded, ruled the city between 10021012; and three impotent Popes, whose elections he brought about, did his bidding.

After his death the faction of Tuscan Counts who recognized the German kingship was again victorious. As soon as they came to power in 1012, they raised a member of their house to the Roman See as Benedict VIII. His pontificate is a memorable one for Germany and affords opportunity to consider the quiet, deep ferment which had long since been active in the universal Church.

St. Benedict had placed the virtus Romana under the sign of the Cross. The communities of monks which followed his Rule had proved of immeasurable beneficence to the Western world. But from the tragic circle inside which all things human move these communi- ties, so wisely planned and so exemplary of pure nobility of living, did not escape. Virtue led of itself to power and riches, and of them- selves this power and riches destroyed virtue. In addition there were external disasters the all-unsettling collapse of the Empire, the im- potence and moral rottenness of the Papacy. But at no time have all the eternal lamps of the Church gone out in unison; and now the last of them still burned and its fire sufficed to kindle all the rest anew.

This happened when during 910 the monk Berno turned the Villa Clunicum, given to him as a present by his protector the Duke of Burgundy, into a monastery. Here one of the most majestic dramas of history took its inception. It was a rising of the Church against the Church a revolution of the Gospel against the world which had invaded its domain. Here also the fiery watchword was, of course, freedom; but what distinguished this religious upheaval from other oc- currences bearing the same name was the manner in which "freedom" was understood. The monastery was to live according to its own


laws, wholly free from the power of kings and princes, and liberated also from ties to the bishops. It was to be placed directly under the protection of the Pope and was to realize the monastic ideal for the welfare of the Church. Though so much had been done to desecrate what is holy, Cluny made the heroic attempt to sunder a, man's eternal welfare as fully as possible from the fetters which bound him to the lesser things of the contingent world. These were to be used only as means for realizing the objective of a higher order of human nature, and for ennobling the earth by making it the serving symbol of the Providential will.

Like all serious attacks on decadence, this one began heroically. In everything which the spirit of Cluny created during the two centuries it flourished, there was revealed an awesome awareness that religious values are the most fundamental of all human values. But what was accomplished was so manifold that it is difficult to describe in a few words what the effect of it all really was. It meant both the erection of an ideal which may be termed that of "the Christian superman," and economic revival. It meant political change as well as the de- velopment of a new science. It meant freeing oppressed classes of society as well as creating a new art and poetry. The cultural effects were all the more profound for having seemed inconsequential to the authors of the reform themselves; for nothing possesses so much crea- tive efficacy as do abnegation and retirement. This knighthood which had turned its face inward was characterized by simplicity, silence and a rude way of living. Odo, the first great Abbot, separated himself forever from his beloved Virgil because he had seen in a dream a beau- tiful antique vase filled with wriggling worms. But he did not for- get the beauty of that vase. He bade his monks cast off everything that hampered the soul from looking straight at the world beyond; and yet, or rather because of this injunction, he exacted of them formal tenure of the body. The monk was to stand erect like a soldier with his legs together, for all disorder (he held) springs from outer form- lessness. He practiced and demanded of others a hard asceticism, but even so he honoured freedom and battled for the oppressed against the nobles and the feudal clergy. Not only did he castigate the guilt of those who despoiled and robbed the people, but he denounced as well those who contrary to their duty as pastors of the fold permitted


such things to happen. It was inevitable that this chaste service to the spirit and the mind should also create its own great world of sen- sory expression in the liturgy, and in all the arts and sciences.

Gerbert, too, had been a pupil of Cluny; and he was followed by others who had breathed in the new spirit either in the monastic city itself or in one of the houses it established. After 1089 there was erected in Cluny, as a symbol of the universal power of religion, a tremendous basilica larger in circumference than St. Peter's in Rome. Through more than 2,000 monasteries, France, Germany, England, Spain and Italy were bound to this centre of inner Catholic reforma- tion according to the Rule of Benedict. Its innermost character was freedom from the world in order that this world might be reconstructed according to the laws of Christ and under the protection of the Pa- pacy. This one can understand if one has grasped Dostoievsky's saying, "He who does not know the monk also does not know the world." The Roman hearth of the Cluniac spirit was the monastery of San Alesso, on the same Aventine where in the castle of the two Ottos German Emperors had drunk in the spirit of Rome. The nationalist movement did not permit the two to join forces; nor did their peaceful proximity mean that there would be peace between the Papacy and the Emperor for much longer.

Benedict VIII, the Tuscan, was a rough warrior and a political cal- culator rather than a spiritually minded man, and ushered in a period of glory for his house, which had based its power on the German kings during the whole of the conflict with the Crescentians. The Pope also owed that king gratitude for having been preferred to a rival from a hostile family, and this he did not forget. He crowned Henry II and Cunigunde. He warred against the Saracens on land and sea. But the resistance of the Greeks in southern Italy, against whom he could not prevail even with the help of the Herculean Normans (these Knights had come from Normandy as pilgrims) compelled him (1020) to obey a summons from the Emperor and go to Germany. In exchange for the service that he was to render there, he kept in his heart during the journey over the Alps a request for a service in return. The eventful visit made Germany jubilant. Benedict, welcomed with pomp, celebrated the feasts of Easter in Bamberg Cathedral


(Henry's favourite foundation) and afterward consecrated a new church erected in honour of St. Stephen and received Communion together with the King. The two rulers also visited Fulda; and the fact that they travelled together was an expression of their agreement concerning the questions they discussed. The Pope, who for years had docilely carried out the Imperial will, was assured of German help in Southern Italy. The other matter of great moment was the reform in the spirit of Cluny, and this Henry had very much at heart. He was a fervent Christian, more so perhaps than the worldly, nationalistic Tus- can Pope; and as Emperor of Christendom he felt deeply attracted to the Benedictines. Simony and clerical marriage had made alarming headway, to the injury of the Church and of the State. Both evils were deeply related. If the ancient rule of priestly celibacy (this rule is spoken of as early as 300; and the practice of celibacy goes back much farther) were discarded then it would also be impossible to prevent the deeding of ecclesiastical property to the children of priests or to root out haggling over Church offices. The Empire, which since the reforms made under Otto the Great had counted on the personal obedience of prelates and their freedom from family ties, was now threatened with the emergence of a priestly caste. If the bishops, in so far as they were estate owners and princes, could bequeath their possessions and their dignity to legitimate sons according to the feudal law, it could, of course, not remain hidden from tender consciences that the conferring of spiritual dignities by the Emperor was at bottom also simonistic.

The struggle for this ultimate liberation of the Church and the intellect was still hidden in the future, when during 1022, soon after their meeting in Germany, Henry and the Pope both attended a Synod in Pavia in order to reach an agreement concerning reform. All priests were ordered under threat of dismissal to rid themselves of wives and concubines. Their children were declared serfs of the Church, which was never to raise them to the dignity of freemen. But during the year 1024 both Henry and Benedict died, and Rome was the victim of all the horrors of family strife over the Papacy.

Conrad II, the first Salian Emperor, was a strong man who brought good fortune to the Empire, but he was not a devoted son of the Church. He ordered the erection of the Cathedral of Speyer, but he


also tyrannized over the bishops and the Pope. The Cluniac monks were aroused by his interference in the business of ecclesiastical admin- istration. The Roman See offered no stiff resistance. The first Pope during Conrad's reign was John XIX, a brother of Benedict VIII and a poor substitute. In 1027 he crowned Conrad Emperor. The fam- ily money had placed him on the Papal throne, and he followed the example set by offering to sell to the Patriarch of Constantinople the Papal authority in the East. It was only the vehement protest of friends of the reform which broke off this unhallowed deal. The next Pope was John's nephew, who as Benedict IX inherited the Roman See just as if it were a piece of furniture in his Tuscan family house! He ascended the Papal throne as a twelve-year-old boy, and for a whole decade draped it in scandals. Conrad, not averse to a weak Papacy, gave him more help than vituperation. The better Romans drove him away; but with his father's money he was able to come back and compel the Pope who had meanwhile been elected under the name of Sylvester III (he too had bought the throne) to retire to the Sabine bishopric from which he had come. But by this time the indignation of the Romans over his vicious life was so strong that he could not remain. The city rejoiced when he resigned in 1045 and sold his office to Gregory VI for a huge sum. This Pope was a virtuous man and a friend of the reform, had been Benedict's confessor and had doubtless himself induced him to resign. He wanted to be the sav- iour of the Church, but that he had used simony to get rid of simony proved his undoing.

During 1046, Henry III crossed the Alps to put an end to the un- settlement. He was preceded by a reputation for strength and kingly earnestness. He was just as serious about the Church as he was about the business of the State, and believed that the well-being of his era depended upon establishing harmony between Pope and Emperor. Being a man of earnest temperament, he was at heart a good deal of a monk. There was about him something of a poet, too. He was the friend of many arts, but deeper than this affection was that which impelled him to be alone with his God. From all profane and vul- gar joys he kept aloof. For days on which he was to wear the royal insignia he prepared himself by going to confession. This beautiful, sombre, lonely man, the most powerful ruler since Charlemagne's


time, was designed by nature to be a fosterer of the new rigorist spirit. The influence of his pious Empress Agnes did the rest. Meanwhile Henry kept the Church inside the Empire in the status which had been fixed by the two Ottos. He expected the reform to succeed in abolishing priest-marriage, so that the ruler could recruit a higher clergy obedient to the Emperor and free to serve his business. He expected further that the baneful practice of bequeathing offices and tenures would cease. Finally he hoped that if the Empire fa- voured the reform, this would cease to be a menace by reason of its trend toward an order transcending the State. His devotion to jus- tice and his relish of honesty in the spiritual life of the Church also induced him to dispense with simony, though this meant a great loss to the Imperial economy by reason of the cessation of gifts customarily received from those chosen to exchange secular positions for bishoprics. If now the episcopate was liberated from the system of simony, the Papacy too must be far above every suspicion on this score.

Henry found Gregory VI guilty of simony. Paying no attention to the ancient rule that the Bishop of Rome could be judged by no one, he summoned a synod at Sutri in 1046, and this deposed both Gregory and Sylvester III. A few days later the same verdict was delivered against the Tuscan Pope Benedict. A German Bishop, Suidger of Bamberg, who had accompanied the Emperor to Rome, became Pope under the name of Clement II and crowned Henry and Agnes. The Emperor also gave himself the title of Patricius, thus manifesting his determination to act as overlord of the Roman See and guarantor of future Papal elections. He did not define the free- dom of the Church as this Church itself or the most vigorous men of the reform movement defined it. With his own hand he forced the systems of Otto and of Cluny into a unity that was outwardly harmo- nious but intrinsically fragile. It was necessary only that on one or the other side a man should appear who did not favour the peace, and the erroneousness of Henry's policy would be revealed. It is true that at the moment there was no danger. The man who was to start the conflict was still no more than a twenty-year-old priest named Hil- debrand, who had gone into German exile at Cologne with the de- posed Gregory VI. When Clement II died after being in office a year, he was followed by a German, Damasus II, who also died a few


weeks later. Then Henry made his cousin, Bishop Bruno of Toul, Pope. Unfortunately this splendid man of Alsatian noble extraction was granted only a few years during which to keep the rainbow of peace aloft in the storm-laden air.

Bishop Bruno took the name of Leo IX. He trusted the Emperor and the Emperor trusted him. When the two sovereigns stood face to face, their contemporaries were given a twofold picture of handsome, manly strength. Their natures, though different, were in harmony, for the Pope was of other stuff than Henry. He also was majestic and dignified, but for all his splendour and distinction he possessed an infectious warmth of character. While a priest in Conrad's court, he had already been known as the "good-natured Bruno" and his motto remained, one must be all things to all men, and show kindness to everyone. He was alive to the beauty of the world, loved both men and beasts, practised the arts, studied public opinion, rode to battle like a knight, and proved a tireless horseman during the long pastoral tours he made through the Empire. Yet one could often see him going at night in lay attire as a barefoot pilgrim from the Lateran to St. Peter's. He served the Church with the same deep earnestness that characterized the Emperor. Immediately he took up the struggle to re-establish the unchanging rights of his See. At a synod which convened in the Lateran Basilica, he repudiated simony as determinedly as any Cluniac reformer, being supported in this by the will of the Emperor (which harmonized completely with his own) and by the democratic movement which had arisen in northern Italy under the name of Pataria. He removed from the feudal episcopacy those who had personally been guilty of simony. His sternness sent a chill of fear down the spines of those he investigated. The Bishop of Sum, summoned to take an oath of innocence, succumbed to a stroke. Leo also decreed that all priests who had been ordained by simonistic bishops were to be considered unordained and deprived of their rank, even though they themselves might be innocent. A tu- mult ensued among those affected by the ruling; and men who clung to a milder view of the reform movement induced the Pope to agree that ordination by a simonistic bishop was valid. There was almost a danger of a rigoristic prophetic movement comparable to that which


had risen in the time o the Montanists and Donatists. Leo conceded the point but insisted all the more strongly upon the strict observance o celibacy by those ordained. All Roman women who had co- habited with priests were declared serfs of the Church of the Lateran.

The Pope, who was the Emperor's most dependable friend, viewed his office with as much veneration as did Henry. With undaunted vigour he removed the Roman nationalist element from the Curia and gave this a universalist stamp in conformity with the spirit of Cluny, which extended its influence to the point which the growing opposi- tion between Church and world in Western culture could not reach. There was plenty of reason on evety side to battle for the cleanness of the spirit against its misuse and enslavement through lust for power and pleasure. Nor did the spiritual Church, the new leaven, lack men of constructive ability. Leo knew how to use them. When he went to France in 1049, ^ e brought back with him the Burgundians Humbert and Halinard to serve in the Curia. Though they were of different temperaments, they were of one mind in so far as their la- bours in Rome for the ideas of Cluny were concerned. Humbert, the more gifted of the two, was a fighter who showed no quarter. He became a cardinal; and as a writer and politician he hurled his pro- phetic utterances at an unsettled world during and after Leo's reign. Halinard, Archbishop of Lyons, knew many languages. He had himself once refused the Papal dignity and now proved Leo's intimate associate and sometimes his representative until his death by poison at the hand of an enemy. Hugo, Abbot of Cluny, who like Hum- bert and Halinard was descended from Burgundian noblemen, like- wise stood close to Leo. He lived long and saw nine Popes occupy the throne. Meanwhile he earned for his monastery its world-wide reputation, a symbol of which was that basilica of five naves and seven towers which he caused to be erected during his old age. Well into the twelfth century he was looked upon as the exemplar of cul- tural creativeness based on a religious attitude eager to find expression. He was averse to all brusque action; and during the dawning struggle for power between Pope and Emperor he remained friendly to both. As one who would reconcile the world and the Church, the Papacy and the Empire, he held in himself the tragedy of all non-tragic na- tures who seek to bring about harmony. In order that the Gordian


knot which Leo and Henry still held in brotherly hands should be cut, it was necessary only that men should rise like Peter Damien of Ra- venna, who spread his hermit-like message of penitence during this and succeeding pontificates, or like Hildebrand, the subdeacon, whom the Pope had brought to Rome from Germany after Gregory's death and had entrusted with the task of putting the chaotic Papal finances in order.

Leo displayed his pastoral staff to the north, but to the south he also laid bare his sword. He crossed the Alps three times, rode tirelessly from synod to synod, and let the peoples realize that he wished to be a Pope for all men, and always a kind and energetic Pope. His jour- neys, the ecclesiastical feasts he inaugurated, and his monastic visita- tions, had the far-reaching impressive effect that he loved to evoke. But around the corners of the streets through which he rode in tri- umph there were also those who muttered dissatisfaction. Possibly there were even more of them in France than in Germany. There were bishops and archbishops, jealous of his personal and official power and aware that the ancient structure of the Imperial Church was be- ginning to totter. The stubbornness of the German bishops, above all that of their leader, Gebhard of Eichstatt, was also directed at the Papal policy in southern Italy, which they thought made Imperial moneys serve an alien purpose. Leo requested German troops to op- pose the growing power of the Normans, and to stop their inroads into ecclesiastical territory. The Emperor assented, but was then in- duced by Gebhard and his faction to withdraw the offer. Only a small company of volunteers accompanied the Pope southward. And so he daringly staked everything on his own army and in 1053 suffered a devastating defeat at Civitate, where the Italians fled before the first onslaught of the enemy and the small German force, though they fought like so many lions, bowed to superior numbers. After months in Norman captivity spent in weeping for his dead, giving alms to the poor and praying during whole nights while lying on a pallet with his head against a stone, Leo also lived to witness the collapse of his Oriental policy. After a long process of estrangement and deepening hostility, the almost inevitable end came with the Schism of 1054. Leo came back to Rome a sick and humbled man, and died there in 1054. He was the most significant of the German Popes and found


a worthy resting place beside Leo the Great. Hildebrand, who had once counselled him to lay aside the Papal insignia of office and to enter Rome garbed as a pilgrim, may well have seemed to many the man destined to be Pope. But he was still to labour quietly during twenty more years building and guiding the Church with a hand seen or un- detected in every move taken by Popes bearing other names.

Cluny and the German monarchy had raised the Roman See from an evil state during the eleventh century. In other countries, above all France and Spain, men looked upon the Germanization of the Pa- pacy with a jealousy in which there was latent a tendency to make the national churches sufficient unto themselves. Many thought it high time that the successor of Peter were freed from the direction of the German Emperor. While Henry lived no one dreamed of a breach. Hildebrand, at the head of a Roman embassy, once more requested a German Pope; and the answer was Bishop Gebhard of Eichstatt, the Emperor's relative and friend. A year later (1056) Gebhard, who had now become Victor II, stood beside the corpse of Henry. As the administrator of the Empire, who had been named in the testament, he rendered the dead monarch most loyal service. He crowned the Emperor's little son Henry IV, secured for his widow Agnes the Re- gency and an oath of loyalty from the German princes, and guaranteed the child a throne and the Empire a peace by bringing about a recon- ciliation with a most dangerous enemy Henry III had made during his later years the powerful Godfrey of Lorraine, who through his marriage with Beatrice of Tuscany had become heir to the crown of Tuscany and master of the rich House of Canossa. The Pope died (1057) on the way back to Rome, but the election of Abbot Frederic of Monte Cassino, Godfrey's brother, confirmed the new peace. This event had a profound and far-reaching effect. The power of God- frey, which had been further increased after Henry's death by acces- sions of territory in Italy, remained a bulwark of the Papacy as long as he lived to be the new protector of Rome and the Viceroy of Henty IV; and it was continued later by Mathilda, daughter of Countess Beatrice, who was an energetic woman. Godfrey's brother was called Stephen IX, and wore the tiara only one year. By threat- ening punishment if his orders were disobeyed, he compelled Peter


Damien, then Prior of his hermitage at Fonte Avellana near Faenza, to become Cardinal Archbishop o Ostia and to prove his zeal for justice and for the purity of the Church by public deeds. Much against his will, quite in the manner in which Dante shows him ut- tering complaints in Paradise, this aged ascetic, who was nevertheless a humanist and a passionate poet, left his consecrated wilderness and during fifteen years played a prominent part in the drama of Church and Emperor. In the Commedia he is made to say that only a little of earthly life was left to him when he was summoned and dragged to the mitre. He was also involved in another fateful occurrence which owed its inception to Pope Stephen the association of the Papacy with the democratic movement in northern Italy.

There the freedom-loving middle classes had risen against the cor- rupt feudalism of their temporal and spiritual masters. Milan, city of industry and commerce, which already in the days of the ancient Church had been a community knowing its own mind and which had since seen the first heretics burned at the stake, was naturally the hearth on which social conflagrations which were to concern European society as a whole later on when cities grew larger were enkindled. Everywhere people felt the weight of the feudalistic economy, but they were no less strongly opposed to the frivolous association between money and religion in the Church. Distinguishing between religion and the servants of religion, the movement voluntarily joined the party of the reform. Doubtless the beginnings of a republican Milan go back to the year 1056, when Henry III died. Then a few priests, among them also two brothers of the noble house of Cotta, took the lead as captains of the people in a struggle against a city clergy, the majority of whom were guilty of simony and fornication. They were in close touch with Hildebrand and Peter Damien, knowing that real improvement could come only from the Papacy. But the other party, led by Archbishop Vido, swore just as passionately by the Emperor. Conscious of their superiority in wealth and culture, they termed themselves "Popolo grasso" and called the reformistic popular party the "Popolo minuto," i. e. the riff-raff.

This opposition was intensified during the next few years into an open fight involving the very existence of the spiritual church. Hil- debrand was still in Germany, treating with the Regent Agnes for the


recognition of Pope Stephen. Then the Pope died, and the Tuscans were free once more to elevate a friend of their house to Peter's throne. Peter Damien thundered in vain; the cardinals were forced to flee for their lives. When Hildebrand returned he assembled them in Sienna and recommended to them (as soon afterward he also did to the Ger- man Court) Bishop Gerhard of Florence, who had been born in Bur- gundy and was an intimate friend of Duke Godfrey. This master stroke of diplomacy proved successful. Hildebrand now had the as- sured support of Lorraine. But Gerhard, now Pope Nicholas II (10581061), was also an able abettor of his own policies. For this second Nicholas had nothing in common with the first excepting his name. Even Peter Damien called Hildebrand the master of his Pope; and Benzo, Bishop of Alba, an enthusiastic supporter of the Emperor, said in his usual gossipy and satirical way, that "Prandellus" i. e. Hildebrand kept his Pope as one keeps a donkey in the stable, giv- ing him the bran but keeping the bread for himself. Nevertheless Hildebrand, supported by Cardinal Humbert, went his way. The interlude of a counter-Pope, who was driven off by force of arms, com- pelled Rome to assure freedom of election against the nobles of the city and the German Court. The Easter Synod of the Lateran (1059) passed severe laws against priest-marriage and the reception of eccle- siastical offices from the hands of laymen, but its chief work was the reform of the Papal elections. Though there was a profession of loyalty to the King, the real sense of the new ruling was not veiled. The cardinal bishops were to make the nominations, the College of Cardinals alone were to cast the ballots, and the clergy and the people retained the right to assent. In Germany this new ruling was very badly received. A Roman legate was sent to pour oil on the troubled waters, found the Castle gates locked, and had to bring his sealed let- ter back home unopened. Ano of Cologne, archbishop and adminis- trator of the realm, convened the Court and the episcopacy in a synod during the early months of 1061 and took a foolish and brusque step. The decree concerning the elections was repudiated, the Pope was con- demned, and all decisions reached during his pontificate were declared null and void.

Hildebrand was armed for battle. Fully conscious of the German opposition, he had immediately allied himself after the Lateran Synod


with the rising Norman power in the South. Out o these robbers and bandits he fashioned associates for the difficult times he now fore- saw. During July 1059, he met the Norman chieftains, Richard of Aversa and Robert Guiscard, at Melfi. To one he entrusted Capua and to the other Apulia, Calabria and even Sicily, though the last still had to be freed from the Saracens. Doubtless the legal basis for this action was only the right conferred by the "Donation of Constantine." In return Hildebrand got their oath to be his vassals not a whit less valuable a property than what he had given. The Norman princes swore that they would protect, if necessary with arms, the Ro- man Church, its possessions, the Pope and the freedom of Papal elec- tions against every attack. Thus the Papacy became independent of the second strong power in Italy, the House of Godfrey of Tuscany. In order to win him over, too, although he was hostile to the Normans, Hildebrand compelled the City of Ancona (against which the Duke was then waging war) to surrender by threatening to impose the ban. The new vassals began to live up to their oaths by storming the castles of the rebellious nobles roundabout Rome. Palestrina, Tuscalon, and other towns were once more brought under the dominion of the Ro- man See.

Nicholas II died unexpectedly in 1061. Since the camps in Rome and the Empire were so divided, open schism broke out. All oppo- nents of the new order of things the Roman nobility and the ene- mies of the Pataria in the Lombard dioceses requested the German court to name a German Pope. In Basel the Lombards called a synod which elected their candidate, the rich Cadalus, Bishop of Parma. He called himself Honorius IL Meanwhile, however, the cardinals in Rome had elected their own Pope, Hildebrand's choice. This was Anselm de Baggio, formerly a brave Milan priest and founder of the Pataria and then Bishop of Lucca, who became Pope Alexander IL The Imperial party felt strong enough to bar his way to the throne. Richard the Norman had to wage a bloody street battle before the elected Pontiff could enter the Lateran by night.

Germany meanwhile did not ignore the fact that Alexander had dealt with it in a friendly manner. In view of the weakness of the regency which Agnes administered in behalf of the boy Henry IV, this was enough to prevent determined German resistance. The Im-


perial party in Rome itself banded together in order to assure the tri- umph of Cadalus. Benzo of Alba, their leader, fired the passions of the people with speeches in the Circus. He bade Cadalus proceed toward Rome, and gathered troops for the coming struggle over the city. Alexander saw all this and remained steadfast knowing that Hildebrand had also mustered arms. There ensued a battle on the meadows of Nero, April 14, 1063. The result was that Alexander suffered a defeat while Cadalus gained no victory. Then Godfrey of Tuscany intervened. An enemy of the Normans and a friend of the Papacy, he placed himself above the factions and induced both candi- dates to retire to their dioceses. A solution of the problem came from Germany, where Ano of Cologne had executed a coup d'etat at Kaiser- werth during April 1062, by kidnapping the young Henry and thus gaining control of the Imperial administration. He declared the Bishop of Lucca the legitimate Pope and Germany supported his de- cision.

When Alexander entered the Lateran for the second time, Rome was strongly guarded; but Cadalus had not renounced his claim, and after Ano's defeat in Germany summoned up the courage to return to Rome. For a whole year he resided in San Angelo as a spectator of the ghastly city war which he finally lost. Then Ano again mas- tered the situation in Germany and invited Alexander to come to the Synod of Mantua, which in 1064 recognized him Pope and imposed the ban on Cadalus. He was now abandoned by Germany, which in the first instance had elected him; and after his time no Imperial Pope was able to prevail.

As the young Henry grew to manhood, the storm clouds rose higher in the heavens. The Curia set about in dead earnest to realize the idea of freedom from Imperial authority. Ano had to go barefoot, in penitential raiment, to the Lateran in quest of the Pope's forgive- ness because he still kept up political relations with Cadalus. Ger- man prelates were compelled to return their offices into the King's hand because they had been granted for monetary considerations. A thousand and one matters, large and small, which had previously been settled by the German Church itself, were now referred to the Roman chancellery. The bonds of order in the German Church had been loosened, but now Rome placed all in its own firmer hand. The


hostile tension between Adalbert and Ano, between Ano and the King, and between the King and the princes, the lawless, morally dis- solute conduct of Henry, the widespread tendency toward anarchy among the people all these things meant impotence, and therefore the Papacy the only real power left in the Empire grew stronger. Alexander proved himself the master when the King, at the age of nineteen, wished to put aside his young wife. He likewise gained the upper hand in the struggle with the Imperial party over the See of Milan, and banned Henry's most distinguished councillors.

The Papal flag also fluttered bravely outside the Empire. William the Conqueror had borne it to England; and in gratitude Rome had given the English bishoprics to Normans. Alexander's teacher, La- franc of Bee, occupied the See of Canterbury (to which that of York was now made subordinate) and therewith became Primate of Eng- land. Even in France the Gallican spirit had bowed to Hildebrand's reformisric ideas. Philip I temporarily acknowledged the new laws against simony and ecclesiastical Church control though he was soon to adopt another attitude.

Alexander died in 1073. Ano and Adalbert had preceded him. Humbert had long been at rest, and a year previous Peter Damien had died on a pallet at Fonte Avellana, to which he had gone home. In his papers there can be found many sharp epigrams directed against the autocracy of Hildebrand, whom he called a "Holy Satan." He himself, the genuinely saintly monk, also had always wanted to give to Gesar everything that was Caesar's.

Two men remained upon the scene, neither of whom wished to concede a point to the other. They were Henry and Hildebrand.


During the last days of April 1073, Hildebrand, though ill as a result of the spiritual upheavals through which he had passed, dictated the necessary letters concerning his election. After Alexander's death, he said, the cardinals had fasted and prayed for three days and thus prepared themselves for the new election. But suddenly, as the corpse was being placed in the tomb at the Church of St. Salvator, there was a tumult and shouting among the people and he had been forced to ascend the Papal throne (for which he considered himself utterly unfitted) without having had time or opportunity to discuss or reflect upon the matter.

These events were reminiscent of the election of Gregory the Great, and this new Pope also took the name of Gregory. As the seventh of the name, he looked upon the first as his model, though he resembled him neither in blood nor in temperament. Yes, when he cited say- ings of God's aristocratic consul and he loved to do so in official letters the sound was utterly different, and incompatible with his own words. Then one hears with far more than ordinary clarity what is hard and commanding in the voice of this Lombard from Tuscany. That which informs his words and deeds is a Germanic spirit of force. The fatherly characteristics of the first Gregory are not here, nor can one discern in Hildebrand anything of the whimsicality or irony of his chosen exemplar. Perhaps for that reason the impression given by his personality is so overwhelming and so strange. His slight, ugly form and his pale face aroused the contempt of his enemies; and those who were weaker than he whetted their pride on the autocracy of this plebeian. His father had been a goat-herd, and his mother came from a poor section of the city. Yet the spirit blows where it lists. He might be of humble origin, but he was possessed by the daemon of a task to be performed for mankind. Peter Damien complained that Hildebrand spoke to him as roughly as the north wind. His speeches and his letters constantly seek to make an impression: they command, demand, urge, take by storm. But when they are not so impulsive and flow more quietly, they enable one to glimpse the real nature of the man from whom they spring. He was a homo religiosus a man



of clean-hearted greatness, dedicated to God. Torn apart from the common life, uncompanionable, lonely and bowed down by the bur- den of a prophetic mission, he was inwardly troubled by doubts con- cerning his Charisma. He hungered and thirsted after justice, and never attained happiness because this justice never assumed the form he visioned in his ardent desire. There is no other word which passed his lips so frequently, so feelingly, as this word justitia the cause of justice, the cause of God, the eternal law, the world-order according to the divine idea. Actuality was to become reasonable, what was rea- sonable was to be realized: this modern phrase would have suited him, if by "reason" were meant the divine spirit of order, which in itself is already a summons to carry on ceaselessly the reform of the world.

The gulf which lies between what mankind is and what it ought to be had tormented Hildebrand almost beyond endurance. Now that he was Pope, he sensed the dreadful command to carry out his office as viceroy of God's Kingdom. He felt the wholeness of Peter's power within himself more deeply, ardently, mystically, than did even Leo the Great. In a letter to Henry he declared that whatever the Emperor said or wrote to him was said or written to the Aposde himself. It was Peter who with unearthly insight divined the con- viction underlying the lines, the words, which die Pope read or lis- tened to. Gregory felt sure that he was in person the Rock, the Bearer of the Keys, the authorized antagonist of Satan. That which was imperious in his nature was not the self-glorification of human genius, as Cassar and Napoleon exemplify it. He lived, acted and gave orders by the power of another, who had seized upon his person in order to act through it.

But the person is also a limitation; and even the holiest human will must make use of human means. Gregory, who had become a monk long ago at Cluny, struggled to bring about the complete, untarnished supremacy of the spirit of the Church, in the priesdy office and the life of the laity. He wanted to make freedom a striving towards the highest goals, and on his side were the heroic counsels of the Gospel. Yet what this Gospel defines as summons and ideal he made law and compulsion. Having put on the armour of that Gospel he gave batde for men's right to renounce for religion's sake blood, tribe and family* Besides there lay embedded in his nature a chill suspicion that the


vitalistic sub-structure of human nature was of evil. This feeling was stronger in him than in Paul, Dominic, Bernard of Clairvaux, Ig- natius of Loyola, not to mention Francis. It is, however, doubtless the ultimate source of his greatness as an ecclesiastical politician. When he mercilessly enforced the ancient law of clerical celibacy despite all revolts of the flesh and all the tears of those whom the law affected, he gave historical validity to the teaching that a state, the officials of which are unmarried and continent, is unconquerable. More than any other statesman he had the courage and the power to regard politics as the art of the impossible. Though he often failed because reality was stronger than he, it is even more evident that he triumphed over reality in his own time and, by his influence, in later ages. If it is a basic characteristic of the Roman Church to posit its spiritual cosmos against the constant peril of chaos latent in the instincts of man, and to be as hard and determined in so doing as nature itself, sacrificing si- lently and mercilessly the individual to the welfare of the whole, then Gregory was the greatest among those who helped to make that heroic characteristic dominant.

How was his ideal to be realized? With those same things which had always stirred men, had convinced their minds, had enabled them to win victories. He, too, did not escape the tragic fate that lies in every struggle to establish a better world. Believing that the higher right was on his side, he fought to gain control of the greater power. It was not the dignity of his person that he defended nor was it the power of his personality which determined the course of his life. He was simply die steward of a heritage, which he added to and then passed on to the next man in the list on which was written his own name. The Papacy never seems greater than when it bends beneath itself like slaves the greatest of those who represent it. It is an exalted idea and it compels even genius to serve its ends. History never sees in any of the Popes, even in Gregory who was perhaps the greatest among them, the expression of a creative energy existing for its own sake. This monk with a crown upon his head is memorable only because of the tremendous strength and fixity of purpose with which he served the rights and the significance of the spirit through the agency of the Church. Still mightier than his damon was the tiara on his head.


The struggle between Imperial authority and the Papacy remained at its height during half a century. It began with Gregory's tumul- tuous election in 1073, and ended with the compromise of Worms in 1 1 22. It was the age of triumphant feudalism, when the new ro- mantic ministers were rising, when the new urban freedom and an infant Scholasticism were first arousing interest. New religious or- ders surpassed in youthful heroism the rich Cluny, now already de- clining. But it was also a time when a Manichean spirit of heresy was taking form almost unnoticed, and when Christian armies were marching against Islam in Spain. The Normans were still masters of Southern Italy and of the Anglo-Saxon kingdom. Yet of all the things which characterized the era, the most far-reaching was the effect of Hildebrand's mind.

This soon found expression in Papal words and deeds. When the Lenten Synods of 1074 and 1075 met, resolutions more severe than any heretofore known were adopted against simony and the sexual lapses of the clergy. The faithful were summoned to enforce these decisions, and to abstain from attending Mass when that was cele- brated by a married priest. The Pope ignored disturbances in Ger- many and elsewhere that grew out of protests organized by prelates. When German and Lombard bishops, including even Councillors of the King, did not obey, he imposed the ban on them. Henry him- self, who at first when he was weak because of the uprising in Saxony, had written to Rome in an obedient and penitential spirit, again be- came the battler of old against Hildebrand once he had gained a vic- tory over his foes. He now made appointments to benefices quite as he had always done, even though the Pope had issued decrees that were to stamp out all the evil at the root. He had denied to the sec- ular ruler the right to give away bishoprics, and forbidden the laity under penalty of the ban to have a hand in the conferring of churchly offices. Gregory was willing for a time to negotiate concerning a modification of this prohibition. He was fully conscious of the grave results which might follow a breach with the German crown, and his objective was not separation between church and state but freedom for the church in the choice of its shepherds.

Henry, meanwhile, set a man of his choice in the See of Milan, and gave prominence once more to the banned councillors. Again Greg-


oty placed the ban on them and was fully able to reckon with the consequences, though at the rime his own situation was perilous. The leader of the Milan Pataria had fallen in a street fight. Papal friend- ship with the Normans was broken off, the higher German clergy sided with the king, and Cencius, leader of a conspiracy of Roman nobles, seized the Pope's person during a coup which took place during 1075. Seized by the hair during midnight Mass on Christmas Day and dragged off, the wounded and maltreated Pontiff was the victim of female scoffers in Cencius' dungeon until the people liberated him. He forgave the culprit on the spot, and protected him against the wrath of the populace. Brought back to the Church by an enthusi- astic crowd, he finished the interrupted Mass. Courageously, firmly, imperturbably, he took up the battle against the King in the same spirit he had revealed on this night, though the outlook was very unfavourable. Of the King it is said that he provoked the crime of this Christmas Eve. Now Henry also disregarded Gregory's final warning, and at a Synod convened iii Worms declared him deposed. A dangerous enemy of the Pope, Cardinal Hugo Candidas, who had previously been his friend and furtherer but had since been excom- municated, now fanned the flames with the worst of calumnies. Greg- ory, he said, was secretly the paramour of Mathilda of Tuscany, and the most recent Popes had not died without his doing.

The riotous events of the years 1076 and 1077 are familiar to every- one. Henry's fateful letter containing the decisions reached at Worms employed this initial address: "Hildebrand, not the Pope, but the false monk." And in the final sentence the King commanded him, in the name also of the German bishops to "step down, step down." The tumultuous, formless election by which the Pope had risen to power now proved the weakest point in his armour. But the Romans shielded it well. The anger of the throng assembled at the Lateran Synod of 1076 rose against the royal bearer of evil tidings and Greg- ory himself prevented the legate's assassination. In the basilica there also sat as a witness of the Council, Agnes, the King's mother. Long before, this wife of the strict third Henry had turned from her vicious son and had taken the veil in Rome. Now she saw and heard every- thing that happened. The Pope gave the counterstroke and called down the curse of the ban on Henry. The form he chose was that


of a prayer to Peter: "Thou art my witness," he cried, "that thy Holy Roman Church placed me at the helm against my will. . . By the strength of thy grace, and now by reason of my own deeds, thou wert pleased that thy Christian people should obey me as thy viceroy; and for thy sake there was given me the power to bind and to loose in heaven and on earth. Filled with such confidence, for the honour and protection of thy Church in the name of Almighty God, Father, Son and Holy Ghost, in the strength of thy power, I forbid King Henty, the son of Henry the Emperor, who has risen against thy Church in unheard-of arrogance, to rule over the whole Empire and Italy. I dispense all Christians of the oath given to him or still to be given, and forbid herewith that anyone whatsoever shall obey him as a King ... I bind him in thy stead with the bonds of the curse, so that the peoples may know and bear in mind that thou art Peter, and that upon this Rock, the Son of the Living God built his Church, against which the gates of hell shall not prevail."

This anathema flashed like lightning over the terrified countries. Thus there was unleashed in the twinkling of an eye the ancient storm that hung above the Empire; and the brightness of the lightning fell upon the crumbling structure in which even the holy spirits of its founders stood at the bar of judgment as if they, too, were guilty.

Soon it was lonely for the King. The ban meant exclusion from the communion of the Church, and this in that time was equivalent to being cast out of human society. As long as the curse lay upon him, Henry was unable to perform his duties as ruler. Ecclesiastical and spiritual leaders now turned their backs on him. The Saxons were restive again, and no one came to the King's parliaments. The Papal legates who crossed the lands had an easy task. The princes were agreed that Henry should be deposed if he had not freed himself from die ban within the year. A parliament, to which the Pope was invited, was to convene on Candlemas Day, 1077, to decide the fate of the royal crown.

Enemies to the death were now about to cross swords. Were they only two men, one a King and the other Priest? When placed side by side these words suffice to convey the antagonism of the forces they signified. Hiereus and Basiletts, Sacerdos and Imperator, Pope and


Emperor, indicate roles in the oldest drama of politically organized humanity. For Christian Europe a clash between these powers was inevitable as soon as both were arrayed against each other in representa- tives of self-confident strength. No one will say that Henry IV was a great man. Nevertheless, he did not speak jestingly of the honour of the Empire; and while his was a wavering figure, it also testified to the fury of the storms which blew across his path. The old Imperial system had been hollowed out when he took the crown. That which under the name of "investiture" constituted the thing over which the battle raged, went down deep to the roots of both Church and State. The structure erected by the Ottos rested upon Germanic conceptions of the law, the essence of which was that the unity of the clergy and officialdom, of ecclesiastical property and Imperial possessions, was to find its symbol and its guaranty in the conferring of spiritual offices by the Emperor's hand. When the rulers were men who had the inter- est of the Church at heart, they chose those who assured the well-being of the Church; but when the system was misused both the Church and the State were led by the necessity latent in human nature to bar- ter for positions, and that meant the simultaneous deterioration of both powers. The State was no longer the State, and the Church was no longer the Church. It was inevitable that the religious movement of reform should take up a position hostile to the Imperial authorities who had gained the upper hand over ecclesiastical administration. The struggle between the two spheres of life, at first a battle over pos- sessions and rights, soon became a conflict to decide which sphere was to be dominant in the Christian world.

If the balance of power in the Christian conception of society was to be shifted, it was not necessary that new ideas should be advanced but only that a powerful man should appear. Hildebrand was this man, and the lever he used was an idea of the Papacy which, from the time Christ had spoken the words of foundation recorded in Matthew until the time of pseudo-Isidore, had consistently remained through good and evil days the most influential idea in the world. Gregory himself developed this idea to its ultimate conclusions in the twenty- seven sentences of his Dictates Ptpa of 1075. Perhaps these are only an improvisation, perhaps also they are only notes he wrote down fot


his own guidance. The fact remains that nothing could have revealed more clearly his purpose and his determination.

The Roman Church, says the Pope in these sentences, was founded by the Lord alone. Only the Roman bishop can rightly be called universal. He alone has the power to issue new laws, to establish new congregations, to remove bishops without a synodal decree, to divide rich dioceses and to consolidate poor ones. His alone is the right to confer the Imperial insignia. He alone can give all princes his foot to kiss. His name is mentioned in all prayers of the Church the name of "Pope," by which he is called, is reserved to him alone. He has the right to depose Emperors; no synod can be termed general without his assent. There is no appeal from his verdict; he can be judged by no one. All the more important business of all the churches must be brought before the Holy See. The Roman Church, as the Sacred Scriptures testify, has never erred, and will not err in all eternity. When the Roman Pope is canonically consecrated, he becomes holy through the merits of St. Peter. No one can be considered Catholic who is not in whole-hearted agreement with the Roman Church. The Pope can free subjects of the oath of loyalty they have sworn to evil masters.

The Church is, therefore, the true Imperium Romanum, and the Pope is the true Emperor. Not in vain had Leo III anticipated the desire of Charlemagne for the Imperial crown on Christmas morning, 800. And not without reason had the King's biographer referred to his master's surprise. The power which had conferred the diadem, could some day also take it away again; and if it wished to reserve it unto itself, it would also find a way to do so. A law on which Greg- ory could base his daring sentences was not impossible to discover. Not one of these dicta but had its roots in the past, even in Augustine's De Civitate Dei. Another state letter the Pope wrote during his last years enables one to view the anxiety with which he justified his policies in the light of his own conscience. But what ruler would like to stand in front of the "mirror of princes" which this Pope lifts up? It is a dream picture which demands priestly virtue of the same layman in whom, from the height of the hierocratic ideal, it discerns laicist impotence as well as an arrogance "over those like himself," which


offends against humility of the common Christian spirit. Neverthe- less even the boldest projects of this radical reformer are not Utopian, since the religious fervour of their creator engenders a belief that they can be realized. While under the impression of his powerful per- sonality, one almost forgets that they involve matters alien to the classical character of the older Church. When the Pope summons the people to boycott the Masses of simonistic priests, when he is will- ing to undermine temporal authority even for such a prize as episcopal authority, one senses a last lingering breath of the rigoristic propheti- cism of ancient times a propheticism at bottom a threat to the Pope's own logical system, based entirely as it is upon the divine act of establishing the ecclesiastical realm. This contradiction in Greg- ory's own achievement is reiterated in the dissonance between the fervour with which he struggles to bring about God's state on earth and the coolness and contempt with which he thinks of the people among whom this miracle is to happen. Yet these contradictions arc only a play within the play of his iron will.

The King now had to settle with Gregory. In order to forestall the threatening verdict of Parliament, he suddenly confronted the Pope, who was already under way at Mont Cenis during the winter of 1077, He thought that if he could strip Gregory of the weapon of the ban his own game would be won.

In Canossa there ensued a silent battle between the Empire and the Papacy, which both won and both lost. The Penitent in his miserable garb, who ran to and fro between the hut he occupied below Mathilda's stone castle and the castle gates, shivering like a hungry beast in the cold, knew that above him in the Countess' rooms the Pope sat with a little retinue and some friends, among whom was the gentle Hugo, Abbot of Cluny and his own godfather, debating his case and answer- ing both "yes" and "no" because they could not determine what was best. Then Hildebrand, according to his own narrative, "was over- come by the perseverance of the humbled man and by the prayers and tears of all those who interceded for him, and who wondered at the unusual hardness of our heart and doubtless also said that what guided us was no longer the earnestness of an apostolic decision, but cruelty and tyranny." He finally removed the fetters of the anathema from


the contrite monarch and gave him the Sacred Host. Men had been of divided mind concerning this occurrence, as they might be upon arrival at a parting of the ways. The eternal crisis that arises out of the fact that man is a citizen of two countries was not of that time alone, but it seems to have been brought to a focus in that scene at Canossa. At bottom both Pope and Emperor found themselves adrift on the same eddy of energies. In Gregory the priest struggled with the statesman; in Henry the honour of the Crown was in con- flict with the demands of the Church. The outcome was that the Pope incurred a political defeat by doing his duty as a priest, while the King secured a political advantage in that he purchased a new freedom of action the price of which, however, was humiliation of the throne beneath the spiritual sceptre.

The consequences of these events was that the Pope, though not the Papacy, was brought to a serious impasse. Spiritual and temporal masters in Lombardy were arrayed against Gregory more resolutely than ever before while the German princes felt that he, their ally, had betrayed them and so made Rudolph of Swabia counter-King. Henry, now free of the anathema, had sufficient followers to beard the Pope, and demanded that his rival should be laid low with the ban. Mean- while Gregory insisted upon clinging to the role of arbitrator, in order that he might show the contenders in whose hand the fate of princes and peoples lay. Finally, however, when both sides refused to ac- cept his plan, he hurled his second thunderbolt it was then the spring of 1080 : against the Penitent of Canossa, who had long since lapsed again, and entrusted the kingdom to Rudolph. There followed a merciless Civil War. Meanwhile the north of Italy also manifested its deep antipathy to the political dominion of the Church, united itself with the German bishops, and set against Hildebrand his old enemy Vibert, Archbishop of Ravenna, as Pope Clement III. After Rudolph had fallen in the battle on the Elster, Henry conducted the widely popular anti-Pope through the domains of Mathilda, then threatened from within and weakened from without by the Imperial arms. She was as ever a self-sacrificing friend of Hildebrand and his aims.

Canossa did not mean that Gregory had ceased to be the man he had always been. Throughout all the world to which the Christian

i name could be applied–Spain and France, England and Hungary, Poland and Bohemia—he insisted upon the supreme sovereignty of his See. Whenever he could do so he drew taut all the bonds which united these countries with the Roman centre. But against an enemy in battle array he was not armed.

The city was still loyal to Gregory, and Henry stormed it twice without success. When he appeared for the third time Gregory had still received no aid: the Normans had their hands full with the Grecian wars and forgot their pledge, and the German anti-King to whom Gregory appealed was himself in the field warring against Henry's supporters. As a result Germans and Lombards scaled the Leonine wall during June 1083. The battle raged around St. Peter's, and even inside the basilica itself. Gregory was entrenched at San Angelo, and would rather have sent the King the curse of the ban anew than the desired crown. Then an armistice inaugurated the last act of the drama, which lasted long. The Romans then were not more loyal than Romans have always been. The tired people, the clergy, the College of Cardinals itself, began to drift away from the Pope, who was determined to struggle to the death. The King and his wife received the body contested Imperial crowns from Vibert, the anti-Pope whom Lombard bishops had consecrated on Easter Day 1084. The deserted Pope could look down from the walls of the Mausoleum of Hadrian upon a festive throng on the banks of the Tiber. Henry speedily conquered the city while Gregory's messengers were hastening southward to summon the Normans. Robert Guiscard came with a powerful army, drove the German troops off, freed the beleaguered Pope and led him in triumph back to the Lateran. But the liberators took a dreadful revenge upon the city. Never before and never again has such a sea of horrors flowed over Rome; and all the ruins, all the ashes, all the blood, all the outcries of virgins dragged off to shame, pointed to Gregory as the guilty cause. The people, terrified by the threats of their tormentors, swore a new oath of loyalty to the Pope, but it was impossible for him to remain in the city longer. He left with Robert to escape from the desolation which everywhere called down a curse upon his name. As he went his way into strange regions, he rested awhile in Monte Cassino, the home of Benedict, whose garment he himself had worn. How DIES 135

far away he now seemed from the monastic spirit of silent prayer and labour, how remote from the power of the mercy that belonged to those consuls of God who had wrestled with Attila and thrown about Rome a mantle of motherly tenderness! And yet Gregory's only object had been to build up Rome's heritage in accordance with the law laid down long before his time. The ruins he left behind did not deflect his mind and will from the social structure he longed to build. His battle was a world-wide one for the victory of the spiritual prin- ciple over the Centaur of mankind. It was a revolution which pro- ceeded downward from above; and of it the Papacy was to make a permanent uprising.

Even in his final misfortunes he did not swerve from his determina- tion or his conception; and his bitter anger at the ruler who over- powered him dwindled not a drop. While his legates visited the countries of Europe urging a revolt against the Emperor, Gregory dreamed his last dream of returning to the Eternal City with an army. Soon also he uttered his last words: "I have loved justice and hated iniquity and therefore I die in exile." He had spent what remained of his days on earth in Salerno. No Brutus slew this Caesar. Like the Emperor of St. Helena he died sundered from the seed he had sown for all rime. Toward the close of May 1085 shortly before his own death Robert Guiscard buried the Pope in the newly erected Cathedral of that southern city. There the ashes of the greatest Pontiff lie in a simple tomb, quite as if Rome had wished that even the spirit of the dead man should dwell in exile rather than within its own walls.

Gregory's ideas had brought him to grief, but they did not die with him. His plan to make of the world a system of independent sovereign states, of moderate strength and dependent upon the recogni- tion of the Petrine See, dominated Papal policy for the next hundred years. On the basis of the Catholic ecclesiastical state in which civil citizenship and church membership coincided, the Casar Papa had brought into being the Papa Ctesar, the King-priest had summoned the Priest-king. It was eminently natural that the emancipation of the State should bring about the emancipation of the Church, and that the Church, once grown free, should also now seek to give this State,


or rather the totality of state forms, the same position within its organism that it had previously held in that of the State. The theo- cratic idea, which as a mere theory had so universally and deeply con- cerned the minds of men during the eleventh and twelfth centuries that Gregorians and anti-Gregorians could base their assertions on the same passages of the Old Testament, was soon transformed by those who upheld spiritual Imperialism into a rigid hierocratic ideal of world domination by a Papacy which, as the organic summit of the Civitas Dei on earth, was to embody the fullness of rights and powers. Roman influence upon this political ideology was less pronounced than Germanic Christian influence: its nucleus is the idea, which Gregory shared, that religious belief includes loyal obedience to the governing organs of the Civitas Dei. The one as well as the other is called Fidelitas.

The heritage which Gregory bequeathed to his successors was one of scission in Church and State, but his spirit was also a legacy and it sufficed. Though his friend Desidarius of Monte Cassino, who took the name of Victor III, remained Abbot of his monastery rather than become Pope of Rome, the French Pope Urban II (previously Abbot of Cluny) t and after him the Italian monk, Pascal II, and the Bur- gundian monk, Calixtus II, successfully followed the way pointed out by their master. Progress was slow but sure. After the death of the rival king and the defeat of the Saxons, Henry was strong enough to insure recognition for the anti-pope Vibert of Ravenna and to attack Mathilda with arms. Urban wandered about Southern Italy in poverty for many a year, but the open and secret intrigues of the Papal party and the fateful disarray of Henry's family, which the Papal party had either brought about or taken advantage of, dealt the mon- arch a severe blow. No longer threatened by the Emperor or his followers, Urban could, when he came back to Rome again in 1093, join forces with Mathilda the pious, utterly loyal Amazon, whom despite her forty years he had married off to the nineteen-year-old Duke Guelph of Bavaria. Further help came from the Lombard Pataria, the Normans, and the rebellious German King's son, Conrad, whom the Pope married to the daughter of the Norman Count Roger. Thus he could restore the objectives of the Gregorian Papacy. In the struggle against simony, Urban met with resistance in France but above


all in Italy. There he imposed the ban on the adulterous King Philip. In England he bolstered up the courage of the new Primate Anselm (Lafiranc's disciple) who had been Archbishop of Canter- bury since 1093, in the struggle with William, the cunning and tyran- nical son of the Conqueror, over the issue of investitures.

Anselm, a Benedictine and a Lombard nobleman whom Scholastic philosophers look upon as their pious and illustrious forbear, was a thinker who profoundly affected the subsequent development of Euro- pean intellectual history. Uniting Roman clarity with Germanic depth, he was in that troubled time a guardian of the religious founda- tions on which the movement for ecclesiastical liberation reposed. He and others, who after him kept alive the flame of his spirit, did much to limit the danger of a new implication of the Church in the world a danger innate in the centralism and absolutism of Gregory's con- ception of the Papacy, but which was also increased by the new move- ment of the Crusades, which throughout Europe menaced the inner life of the Church.

At Urban 's court another great German lived for a short rime. He was the noble Bruno von Gartefaust of Cologne, the Pope's former teacher in Rheims. To him the Pontiff gave a dwelling in his palace in order that he might be close at hand to give council in matters of conscience and of ecclesiastical direction. For this man of deep cul- ture and holy conduct had learned through tragic experience to dis- tinguish between the things that seem and the things that are in the Church. Formerly he had been director of schools in the city and diocese of Rheims, and had afterward as Chancellor of Archbishop Manasse, a shepherd who gave scandal to his flock, become the founder of a monastic society which practiced the strictest retirement from the world. With a handful of followers he had established during 1084 an ascetical community which lived according to the example of the old hermits of the Theban desert in the dreadful wilderness round- about Grenoble. Because this region was called Chartreuse (Car- thusium) , the Order which took its rise from this heroic little band is known as the Carthusian order. This combined in a very striking way the isolation of its members with their life in common. All lived in cells built like tiny houses arrayed at intervals along the wall of the cloistered yard; and each practiced piety and took care of his own


little garden. Apart from the meal taken in common the sole meal of the day there were only a few occasions on which the monks came together, and these served a spiritual purpose. Isolation, fast- ing and strict silence accompanied the noiseless daily tasks, the whole import of which was directed inward. Neither pastoral duties, nor schools, nor sermons, associated them with the outside world. If we practice what others preach, they said, it will also mean something. The difficult task they accomplished within themselves was the reason for their earthly being; and for Bruno the systole of the individual soul hearkening unto God was the necessary accompaniment of the diastolic working outward of the Church militant. Taken away from the Roman Order when the Pope fled to escape from Henry IV, Bruno founded a second Chartreuse in Calabria. There his great life was ended ten years later (i 101 ) .

It was Urban II who as a refugee in the Norman south brooded over Hildebrand's idea of a European attack on Islam. Then when the hour was ripe he proceeded to act. At the brilliant Synods of Piacenza and Clairmont, this fiery Papal orator won the clergy, the nobles and the masses for his plan. No matter what the motives of all these groups may have been, the effect of the undertaking as a whole was a triumph for the dead Pontiff of Salerno, and for the Papacy. By taking the initiative in a manner unparalleled during the Middle Ages, the Pontifex overshadowed the German Imperial power, the anti-Pope began to lose ground and Rome was compelled by the crusading armies to welcome Urban. The French King, whose sub- jects listened exultantly as the wandering Pope and after him the ecstatically enthusiastic if crippled Peter of Amiens, called everyone to the Cross, soon sensed the loss of a knighthood which had ridden off to battle and submitted to Urban's command in order to escape the ban. The French people, anxious to escape hunger, the plague, and slavery under their feudal masters, rallied in wild zeal. In Brittany, Normandy, Burgundy and Italy crowds likewise gathered to leave for the Holy Land. The action of the Pope made it seem as if Moham- med were drawing a bond of unity round the Christian peoples.

After such successes, it did not matter greatly that Urban's Ger- man policy could not entirely prevail. Disappointed in their expecta- tions of .heritage, the Guelphs separated their young scion from Ma-


thilda. The older Guelph was reconciled with the Emperor, and the political alliance between the Hildebrand parties in Germany and Italy was severed. Nevertheless the new party was a fact and with it there was given the basis for the later division of minds into Guelphs and Ghibellines into a camp that stood with the Pope for national and urban freedom and independence from the German Emperor, and a camp which supported this Emperor.

As the two great movements of the time the Crusades and the religious reformation gained ground, the imperialistic conception of the Papacy almost automatically grew stronger within and without. Its power was shown clearly under Henry V, when the last act of the investiture drama was played. This second son of Henry IV also rebelled against his father, who was still under the ban, and through devilish treachery robbed him of the crown. The Pope who released him from his oath of fealty was Pascal II, a monk who like Peter Damien strove to follow a policy from which the soul could take no injury. After Henry's sad death in 1106, he entertained the hope that the young King would be well disposed; but the voice with which this monarch spoke as he ascended the throne and vowed to serve faithfully both Pope and Church came from behind the misleading countenance of a man who was in reality a crude, unscrupulous believer in might. When Henry no longer needed the help of the Pope, he thought as little of surrendering the investiture as Pascal thought of ceasing to demand that it be surrendered.

Then in 1 1 u , a tremendous German army drew up before the gates of Rome, and the King demanded both recognition of his ancient rights and the Imperial crown. Difficult negotiations ended in a treaty of Utopian daring. This utterly honest Pope was ready to sacrifice whatever the Church possessed in order to secure that Church's freedom; and he hoped that the ecclesiastical nobles would support his action. A child of light and not a statesman spoke when Pascal proposed that the German Church should give back to the Empire the regalia i. e. the right to sovereignty as well as all the possessions it had received from the Emperor since the time of Charlemagne and should henceforth content itself with tithes and private don*- tions. The Imperial authority for its part was to surrender the right to investiture. Doubtless Pascal foresaw that the bishops would


offer resistance, but he hoped to prevail over them by recourse to ecclesiastical discipline. The King might well have been content to give in exchange for such gifts an investiture which at bottom was only a claim to the Empire's higher right of possession over the goods of the Imperial Church; but as one who knew the real German situa- tion and believed that the Pope also could not be unaware of it, he looked upon the offer as a gross attempt at fraud in order to make him give up investiture. He assented nevertheless but, realizing that the ecclesiastical dignitaries would not permit themselves to be stripped of rights, goods and honours attendant upon their positions as Im- perial princes through a mere stroke of the Papal pen, and that the worldly princes would be terrified by the enormous growth of the royal power and by the loss of ecclesiastical benefices they had so comfortably enjoyed, the King made a proviso that the agreement must be recog- nized by the Church in Germany and by the Imperial princes.

When the treaty was solemnly signed in St. Peter's a storm of in- dignation seized all those who were affected and therewith the whole Gregorian party. Henry demanded that the right of investiture be restored to him, and likewise insisted upon the crown, Pascal re- fused and that same evening he and his cardinals were imprisoned. That night an indignant city arose to avenge the deed of violence; and after the bloody fighting of the following days the King retreated, dragging the Pope and the Curia outside the walls. There he kept them under strict arrest for sixty days, immuring some in castles and some in a camp on the other side of the Arno; and, with barbaric threats, he tried to wrest from them what he wanted. The petitions of all who in behalf of the beleaguered city and of a Church in dire peril of schism threw themselves at Pascal's feet, finally caused the bewildered Pontiff to give way. The son of Canossa's Penitent ob- tained the Treaty of Ponte Mammolo from an humbled Pope who was not of Gregory's steel. This treaty recognized Henry's un- qualified right of investiture, proclaimed an amnesty without excep- tion, and recorded that the Pope had promised on oath never to im- pose the ban on the King. After he had been hastily crowned in the Leonine no people applauded the deed Henty rode off north- ward. Pope Pascal, however, immediately found himself surrounded by angry ecclesiastics who demanded that the treaty be broken.


Covered with insults and scorn by those who called him a heretic and a traitor to the Lord, he kept his despair to himself and carried out the will of the Gregorian Party step by step, though he did not himself proclaim the ban which they hurled at Henry. He was still sup ported by the Imperial faction, by the cardinals who had suffered with him (especially those of France, where feeling had risen highest) and by the famous canonist Ivo, Bishop of Chartres, who was a fighter for the liberation of the Church, from the power of the State and for ac- cording recognition to the dignity of even a mistaken Pope. The opponents of Pascal, said Ivo, should resemble the good sons of Noah, and instead of laughing at their father should turn their faces away and cover his nakedness, so that they might receive his benediction.

Nevertheless Pascal was unable to stave off a complete retreat. At the Lateran Synods of 1112 and 1116, he abrogated the Treaty of Ponte Mammolo. During the last named year the Emperor ap- peared again in Rome, though without an army. Despite the fact that the princes had allied themselves with the growing opposition in the German Church, he sought to collect the Imperial loans once given to the recently deceased Countess Mathilda. . He also wanted to get as much as possible for himself of what she had bequeathed to the Church, so that he could make friends with largesse. As he approached the city, the Pope, who had just previously been driven out by a war between the factions, fled for the second rime from the "wolf in sheep's clothing" (who was now inclined to make a peace) to the Normans. Rome paid homage to the Emperor, who scattered gold about him; and Rome also sided with Pascal again, once the Germans had left. The Pope returned to the city to die.

The weather which now hung over Rome and the Church was as troubled as of yore. It mattered not that Henry sought to weaken Gelasius II, the next Pope, whom the Imperial faction of Frangipani had maltreated bodily while the Conclave was still in session, by recognizing an anti-Pope by whom he had already been crowned. The aged, tired Gelasius had no recourse excepting to hurl the weapon of the ban, which by this time had lost much of its effectiveness, at the Emperor and his anti-Pope. But Rome afforded him no protec- tion against Henry's retainers. Having tried ceaselessly and in vain to determine its own political life despite Papacy and Empire, the


city was an uncertain terrain on which neither of the wrestling powers could ever depend. Chased from his altar with stones and arrows, the aged Pontiff sat one evening in an open field near St. Paul's out- side the walls. He was tired, sad, tearful and still half clothed in liturgical raiment. He looked for all the world like some jokester who had lost his mind. There was nothing he could do but seek refuge in France, of which country one who meditated on this same scene hundreds of years later said that it had always been a haven for the troubled barque of Peter. There he ended the years of suffering which his pontificate had been, dying on the ground clad in the habit of the Benedictines of St. Giles.

The few cardinals who had gone with him elected to the Papal throne France's mightiest prelate, Guido de Vienne, a relative of the Emperor and a Burgundian nobleman. When this choice was as- sented to by Rome, he became (1119) Calixtus II and prepared to go to the end of the road he had long since pointed out, a voice crying in the wilderness of strife. After an effort to reach a peaceful settle- ment had failed, the Council of Rheims imposed the ban anew on the Emperor and his anti-Pope. The hundreds of bishops who as- sented to this deed by throwing their burning candles on the ground seemed to be a new phalanx marshalled by the dead Pontiff of Salerno. Yet the peace was nearer than anyone could have expected. The end- less struggle had caused many minds to weigh the rights of both camps. On each side there were learned speakers who asked what things were God's and what were the Emperor's. They distinguished logically between a spiritual and a temporal aspect of the episcopal office, and drew a line between what was ecclesiastical property and what Im- perial treasure in the diocese, and thus made it easier to conduct the lengthy negotiations out of which a new order emerged. The danger that both Church and State would be disrupted was so great, the pres- sure of the German princes as well as the clamour of bishops and abbots for protection against thundering robber bands was so strong, that both parties were compelled to seek peace. Since there was a com- mon need for self-preservation, a modus vivendi could be arrived at. Soon after he had made his impressive entry into Rome, Calixtus saw the anti-Pope being driven out in an almost clownish way. Seated on his camel, the poor cleric was pelted with stones by the mob. The


new ruler won the hearts of the Romans by according them good gov- ernment. The desire for peace which he had proclaimed from the beginning and the absolute honesty of his statesmanship indicated that in his dealings with the Imperial authority he would be candid though able to resist aggression.

The agreement which was reached at Worms, the Imperial city, on that memorable day of September 1122, was not a real peace, but it was at any rate an armistice. The meaning of the two documents exchanged was contained in their opening sentences. The Emperor promised: "I, Henry, Roman Emperor by the grace of God, confer on the Holy Catholic Church all investiture through ring and staff, and grant in all churches of my kingdom and empire, ecclesiastical elections and free ordinations. And I give back those possessions and sovereign rights of St. Peter which from the beginning of this struggle until now have been usurped under the governments of my father or myself." For his part the Pope promised: "I, Calixtus, Bishop, Servant of the Servants of God, grant to you, my dear son Henry, Roman Emperor by the grace of God, a promise that the elec- tions of bishops and abbots in the German Kingdom, in so far as these are directly subordinate to that Kingdom, shall take place in your presence without simony or any kind of violence. If there should ensue a dispute between the parties then, upon taking counsel with and receiving the decisions of the archbishops and bishops of the province, you are to endorse and aid the one who has the better right on his side. The elected one, however, shall receive his sovereign rights from you through the sceptre and shall render to you the duties which lawfully ensue from those rights (i. e. the oath to administer a benefice) ." The separation of the symbolic acts and the reference of them to two instances implied that every bishop was the possessor of a two-fold right, and the exerciser of both a spiritual and temporal function. That upon which the Church had been compelled to insist was now secured for her. She conferred the ring and the staff, which were the insignia of mystical marriage with her and the pastoral office.

During the following year, the first General Council of the Lateran confirmed these parchments. The Papacy could proclaim urbi et orbi that it had obtained its freedom and independence from the temporal power; and for its part the Empire could rejoice that it also had gained


independence and could henceforth uphold the great ideal without which it could not exist the inner justification, the autonomous right of the secular order and of civil society. The rime itself could not yet see what had been accomplished; but is ever a time able to see such things? And if we now ask who won this struggle, the verdict must depend on what response is made to the larger question: which of the liberated powers had retained or lost the deeper energies of human nature? The fact that the Papacy continued to thrive renders the reply obvious. For that which is termed its "power or sovereignty*' is inexplicable without the power and sovereignty of the Church, and this in turn is explained (though only of course in part) by the obvious fact that it is a convincing response to the deepest questions latent in human nature.

After the storm had ceased, both Pope and Emperor were laid to rest. What they had done and left undone would figure in a new, still fiercer (because intellectually deeper) struggle their successors would carry on.


The text in St. Luke which reads, "See Lord, here are two swords,** had long ago been interpreted as a divine counsel that the sword of worldly power was to serve the Church. The Papacy continued to think and act in the spirit of Hildebrand's testament, which it wished to fulfil to the last letter by making real what had long been an ideal. Then in 1300 the too tautly drawn bow was broken. In a sense one can say that the time which intervened between the Concordat of Worms and this catastrophe was the period of a triumphant Papal temporal power. But with deeper justice one can term it the hour when, voluntarily or otherwise, the modern spirit was severed from the spirit of the Papacy. The word "mediaeval" is vulgarly associated with any number of things, but it cannot, if one looks more deeply, obscure the truth that the supposed unity of the Middle Ages was full of vivid contradictions and gaping breaches. On this stage there is missing no sharp conflict between intellects, no character in the wholly natural drama born of the fact that men are of different kinds, no form of social organization. Here are all the ideas which, it would seem, permanently recur to the human race. In the midst of the conflict between time and eternity, which involves the innermost rhythm of the life of man wrestling both with himself and the world about him, the Papacy, too, battles with the Demon whose three temptations could not prevail over the Master but who could so weaken even that one of His disciples who had been elected Rock of the Church that three times he denied Him in the night.

The first Crusade ended victoriously. The conquest of the Eastern coast lands of the Mediterranean had broadened the field of history and had given the Empire greater power and a new reason for being. The people looked upon themselves as the constituents of Christendom as a mystically formed whole, the unity of which also demanded unified leadership. Pope or Emperor: which was to be the master? No answer had been given by the Concordat of Worms. That had opened up a gap in the German monarchical authority, but at the same



rime had not wholly liberated the troops of the Church. The tragic dissonance between the two bearers o one theocratic state idea lived on. But a third element slowly presented itself and was destined to give the struggle another meaning.

Nationalistic powers, the communes eager for self-rule, lay culture, and theories of the autonomous state, were directed just as much against the Empire (which, having once more been confirmed in its rights, was likewise anxious to confirm its power as well) as against the Gregorian Papacy * (which by reason of the fact that it was both a Civitas Dei and a state owning worldly possessions was tending toward temporal rule) . Present also was the father of all change not merely the crude stroke and counter-stroke of armed forces, but also the intellectual warfare of right against right. Legality in the juridical sense likewise increased the tension incident to the decisive struggle be- tween these great forces. The Roman science of law, resurrected in Bologna, drew the attention of both sides to the ancient imperittm; and in this city a new codification and exigesis of ecclesiastical law began to be differentiated from theology as an independent science. Those who looked back upon the past could also, it is true, suppose that the polis of antiquity and the republic of a newer time desirous of innovation were commendable forms of the common life. If now in the temporal sphere Empire and nationalistic spirit imperium and city state struggled for control of the future, the fact remained that the Church reposed upon a social form decreed by its own law; and therefore it did not need to feel that its innate significance as the community of the Kingdom of God would suffer, regardless of what happened in the world around. Indeed the Church was really threatened only by the serious danger that she would lose sight of her real destiny. Her religious world-dominion was not based upon a political world rule by the Bishop of Rome, but on guidance from a Papacy which would not desert the Church however politically strong or weak. If one were now to ask whether the political world dominion of the Popes has been beneficial to mankind, one could answer only if one were able to look across time and space and see history which to the human eye is always an incomplete happening as a perfect whole. That the Papacy erred is proved sufficiently by the voices of con- temporaries who drew from their own Christian strength the right to


issue warnings against estrangement from the innermost meaning and spirit of the Church.

The freedom of the clergy, the liberation of the bishops from im- plication in the political aspects of their benefices, constantly remained the imperative concern of the Curia. In addition it struggled to free its celibate vassals from dependence on secular justice and from the obliga- tion to pay secular taxes and tithes. The centralistic administration became more and more marked; and the growing resemblance be- tween the Curia and a state compelled it to reckon 'with the most ele- mentary obligation that rests on every political organism the ad- ministration of finances. The income from patrimonies, other revenue, the taxes levied after the close of the twelfth century for the Crusades, the interest received from benefices, the tithes from monasteries and dependent churches, and the gifts which the whole of Christendom had to offer in response to various Papal claims, exacted a well-planned, centralistic management by the Camera Apostolica. Toward the close of the thirteenth century, this well-organized but also well-hated system of assessments and assessors, which took precedence over the bishops and other local dignitaries, rendered the Papacy financially superior to the great European states. During this time the tithe, which was levied universally throughout Christendom, alone brought in three times more than the income of the French crown. In part the money was paid out for expenditures incurred during the Crusades by spiritual and temporal princes, who meanwhile thought as little about how they spent the money as did the Popes themselves, who made use of their riches as they saw fit in carrying out their political plans, however opposed these might be to the tax-payers' interests. The great role played by the Papacy in the history of medieval bank- ing and credit met its appointed end in the catastrophe of 1300, when the bankrupt Curia was transferred into the realm of its French fore- closer, who had felt that its tax policy was injurious to his government.

The Papacy needed stronger forces than jurisprudence and politi- cal economy if it hoped to bind the world to its throne. These forces were: the inner vitality of the Church, and its power to breathe a soul into the spiritual, intellectual and actual work of Christendom. These forces were missing at no time during the Middle Ages; and though


some elements of society might separate themselves inwardly from the Papacy, view it with indifference, worldliness, scepticism, criticism and contempt, or might, having adopted a heretical point of view, fight a violent, bitter, and despairing struggle with it to the death, the religious energies of the Church and her faithful really grew stronger. New Orders gained ground, took a part in pastoral labour, stiffened discipline, did missionary and colonization work, battled against heresy and heretics, laboured to effect the social reconstruction of society, delved into the sciences, fostered the arts, and as protectors of the re- ligious ideal influenced also the political outlook of the Papacy.

One single monk of the twelfth century, Bernard of Clairvaux, gave his whole era its name; and from the dawn of the reign of Lothar III of Saxony, who had succeeded the last Salian monarch, to the days of Barbarossa, his shadow lay on all the Emperors and Popes. When, after the death of Calixtus II, the Frangipani Pope Honorius II ascended the Roman throne in 1124, the young Abbot Bernard was already deemed the "light of France." Six years later, when states and peoples were in an uproar by reason of the schism between In- nocent II, candidate of the Frangipani, and Anaclete II, the anti-Pope sprung from the once Jewish banker family of Pierleoni, Bernard be- came the main actor on the European stage and he dominated the scene for two decades. If one were to narrate his life one should have to recount in detail the drama of a whole epoch the vivid, virile drama of the whole Middle Ages. This Burgundian came from near Dijon, was born in 1 190, was of knightly blood, and doubtless inherited a Celtic temperament from his mother. Already as a child he com- bined traits of shyness and violence. To his own time and the times which followed him he was known as the "teacher from whom honey flowed" (Doctor Mellifittus) but also as a "man of iron will" (Ze- lotypus) . To himself he seemed the chimera of his century. As he neared maturity his youth witnessed the departure and homecoming of the first Crusaders. The dreams, the feverish activity, the deeds and misdeeds of the knights aroused his feelings. Meanwhile, however, the new science taught at the French schools had fascinated his mind. Soon his natural religious bent presented both ideals, knighthood and theology, to him from their religious side; and he buried them in his own soul. As a novice of the new monastery in Qsterce, which a


Frenchman had founded in order to defend the old harsh monastic spirit against the deterioration of Cluny, and then as the youthful Abbot of a new foundation in Claraval (Clairvaux) for this young heroism spread like wildfire Bernard transformed the knightly in- tention of doing battle for every just cause into spiritual purposive- ness. The conquest of the world, which he practised and proclaimed, embraced manifold forms of living at the same time. It meant re- nouncing the world in order to conquer and rule that world for God's sake. It was humanistic in the sense that it led a quiet spiritual life, and it was political in so far as it was strongly determined to bring into the here and now the perfection of the world beyond.

The simple root of this manifold creative activity was a personality which made itself selfless in order to be free for the obedience of service to higher super-personal ends. The true monk was to practice the strictest self-discipline in food, drink and sleep; to achieve the most rigid concentration of his energies on the task of the moment, whether that were a learned text, a political communication, a chore in the field, or dishwashing in the kitchen; to control the senses perfectly, being not even allowed the sight of the cold Church entered at dawn, and need- ing none because the images which issued from within his soul were so much more fascinating; to draw away from the surrounding world to such an extent that he would not notice the surface of the water, though he were to ride all day along the Lake of Geneva; to study of the Bible so painstakingly that he could quote freely innumerable passages; and finally to surrender to the inner voice amidst the peace of the woodland. These traits of the true monk were associated marvellously with those of the active knight, the conqueror, the resister of princes in the Empire and the Church. Because Bernard was all this and stood apart from the world, he could summon up enormous energy to attack that world. Therefore he never exchanged his white habit for the pallium or the purple, and so retained the freedom of a prophet not chained to hierarchical tasks. Perhaps he also realized that every kind of tie to those in power could prove dangerous to his mystical servitude for Christ's sake, who was to him the King who rules the world and ordains what happens therein. In his deepest being this devout religious felt subservient only to the wholly personal law of the religious superman. Whenever he indulges in a rare mo-


ment of restrained and hesitant comment on his own innermost ex- periences, he helps us to understand his sense of power and also his persistence in standing aside a true "splendid isolation." As a mystic he knew "the sweet wounds of love." It was not from books alone that he derived the comparison between the man who awakes from a realization, a startling realization, of having been given divine Grace, and a boiling kettle taken from the fire. His own later confes- sion that to him, too, the Word had come, explains everything. To him any theology, that did not speak to the heart was unintelligible. His personality and preaching of the imitation of Christ, his subjective piety, which for that time was "modern" and not just accidentally contemporaneous with the first stirring of the Gothic impulse in the style of the choir erected by his friend Suger in Saint-Denis these introduced into young Scholasticism an insistence upon inner mystical experience and thus also upon the whole man, who acquires knowledge also through his feelings.

Bernard, to whom it was more important to feel ardently than to know, was a mystic not because of weariness, but because of an excess of energy. He wished to set the whole world afire with the sacred flame he sensed so marvellously in his own life. A hot glimmer lies on the rushing lava which as an orator and a writer of letters he poured down on Christendom in the form of meditations and political tracts. A half century before the beginnings of the Inquisition, he was driven by his impulse to convert men by overwhelming rhetoric and burning, apostolic zeal; to adopt the principle that faith must be instilled by persuasion, not by force. Nevertheless the passion with which he opposed men who would not be persuaded for instance, Abelard the rationalist, and Arnold of Brescia, the heretical social demagogue showed him at odds with the wisdom of his own maxim. What he could least endure was the self-esteem of the human mind, and its frivolous penetration into the world of religious mystery. What could philosophy mean to Christendom? What purpose would be served by Plato and Aristotle? Does not the believing heart receive counsel from a higher world, and learn all that is needful from being alone with its God? What other purpose can human effort serve except that, dwelling in a living communion with the God-man, it should garner from the fields of the world the harvest of eternal values?


Just as the individual human being is summoned to aid the Deificatio the renewal of all things in God so is culture as a whole sum- moned to effect the metamorphosis by which God is revealed in the things o earth while these are manifest in Him. Therefore there is given to us all the Holy Spirit, who is God's Counsellor in the heart of man as well as man's Counsellor in the heart of God.

It was the spiritual knighthood which Bernard first influenced. To the homo legdis, the loyal steward, who as a knight of Christ was both a hero with the sword and a Christian with the Cross, he dedicated a new task governed by the Rule which he wrote in 1128 for the Knights Templar. He was able to supply the little band which dwelt in the shadow of Solomon's Temple with money and men in abundance; and according to the example set by this knightly Order, other groups then wrote their constitutions. His second achievement was to extend his Order internationally. With this there went hand in hand a third achievement: the struggle against schism and the win- ning of support for Innocent II, whom Bernard deemed a worthy Pope. The events which occurred at this hasty election of two Popes had bequeathed to Christendom a thorny problem of law which Bernard, too, could not easily solve. On journeys to Italy and Germany, which incidentally meant that as a result of popular esteem he could make "miraculous drafts of fishes" for his Order, he urged the cause of the noble exile, Pope Innocent, whom the supporters and the money of the fantastically rich Pierleoni, Pope Anaclete, had driven to France. When Bernard claimed for Innocent the sanior pars the better elec- tion by better electors he was merely stressing the dubious reputa- tion of Anaclete, and taking advantage of the general antipathy to a Pope of Jewish blood.

Although Anaclete had the support of Roger II's Norman kingdom, the Pope favoured by Bernard gained ground after the famous day of deliberation at Etampes. Sermons, letters asking assistance, daring propaganda measures like the pastoral attack on Henry I of England (whom Bernard met in Normandy) and on the Duke of Aquitania (toward whom he strode with flaming eyes, during Mass, carrying the uplifted Host, and looking for all the world like the Eternal Judge in person) and doubtless also the mobilization of the innumerable troops of his Cistercian state were weapons with which he won a victory


for Innocent's cause in France, Germany, Spain and northern Italy. The coalition against the Norman state thus brought about, above all the League between Genoa and Pisa against their Sicilian rival, he managed to keep intact, despite the efforts of the South to disrupt them. He accompanied the Pope on all his journeys, and so his cortege became a second travelling Curia. This monastic politician possessed spiritual powers also, which manifested themselves in Milan, for example, where he worked a miraculous cure before an awe-struck multitude. But the ties which now bound him to the world some- times seemed to him treason to his habit.

A magic influence seemed to emanate from this haggard, emaciated man. It was only Roger who, in accordance with the Pierleom Pope, sought to place his hand on the patrimonium Petri, withstood this magical influence when the prophet confronted him. Bernard and Cardinal Peter of Pisa, Anaclete's legate, had come to Salerno in re- sponse to the King's invitation. The expedition which the German King had undertaken against the Normans had failed, and now only Bernard could win over to Innocent's side the last prince who opposed him. Roger sat on the throne with his knights around him and listened to the dispute which he had instigated. His hopes were centred on Cardinal Peter, who being so learned in the law and so gifted in oratory would surely overpower this simple Abbot! The King did not succumb to the ardour with which Bernard used spiritual satire in the political debate, in which he glorified the ambitious worldling of Rome who called himself Pope as the one just Noah in the Ark of die Church. But the Cardinal was overwhelmed. Reduced to complete silence by his opponent, he permitted the Abbot to lead him out of the room by the hand. Roger forbade him to have any- thing to do with the Saint, but even so this mighty furthercr of the Pierleoni cause went over to Innocent's side in Rome. Bernard also stayed in the city for some time during this same year, 1138. Then Anaclete died, and the cardinals of his faction elected the aged Victor IV. Soon afterward Bernard induced him, too, to recognize Inno- cent. Thus he brought to an end a schism lasting eight years the longest in Church history since that of Vibert; and while the en- thusiastic feast of reconciliation was still in progress, he left Rome, which he detested from the bottom of his soul, and went back to


Clairvaux, his pleasant valley. All praised him as the Father of the Fatherland. A letter to his monks preceded him, closing with a cry of joy: "So then we are coming! We are coming in joy, in the raiment of peace. Surely these are beautiful words, but the reality is still more beautiful. It is so beautiful that anyone who does not rejoice in it must be a fool or a scoundrel." A year later he was to sense the fate of all political master-minds. Letters from the Pope he had protected let him feel how deeply the Curia resented his inter- ference in its activities. But doubtless it is only a glowing fragment of his always very emotional style which one sees in his reply that now he has been completely and unexpectedly cast off. His courage and zeal did not leave him, nor did the power fade from the mission with which his soul was aglow.

In 1139 Innocent II assembled a General Council in the Lateran and hurled the ban against Roger, his unflinching opponent. Then he himself took the field against the Normans, because there was no help to be expected from the Hohenstaufen King, Conrad III, who had succeeded Lothar in 1138, and who was now hard pressed by the warring Guelphs. The expedition failed as miserably as had that which Leo IX once led against the Normans. The Pope was made a prisoner. He had to free the Sicilian from the ban and recognize his right to the crown.

Signs that Rome was strengthening its opposition to the German Imperial idea were visible during the final year of this eventful pontifi- cate. The city was not uninterested in the powerful Lombard move- ment in favour of municipal freedom and civil autonomy. This demo- cratic struggle against feudal powers now began to alarm both the Empire and the Papacy because it was a threat to undermine their common basis the theocratic conception of the two powers, an ecclesiastical hierarchy and a dependent secular hierarchy. This was a real innovation in the life of mediseval society, cutting deeper than any previous change, and the Romans joined forces with it, though to be sure they merely trotted along far in the wake of the Lombard revolu- tion. They rebelled against the Papal rule of the city, and against Innocent's refusal to permit the destruction of Tivoli, the most im- portant southern bulwark of Rome, in punishment for a rebellion which had broken out there. To the indignation of the Romans, the


ancient episcopal city then surrendered to Innocent. In the midst of these events the Pope died. The second of his short-lived succes- sors was slain when a stone was hurled at him during an uprising. On the Capitoline Hill there had resided since the autumn of 1 144 the officials of a new Roman Republic. They proudly called themselves the Senate and sealed their letters with S.P.Q.R. in memory of the Senate of a thousand years previous.

This Roman communal movement was a source of trouble from the beginning of the very active pontificate of Pope Eugene III. Born in Pisa, he was a disciple of Bernard, and had also been a Cistercian Abbot. He was consecrated outside the city in the two-choired basilica of the Sabine Imperial Monastery at Farfa. Because he was often forced to flee by the Roman Senate and by Arnold of Brescia, the restorer of the Republic, Pope Eugene lived in Viterbo, France and Trier, more than he did in Rome. Bernard said that now his son had become his father; but he could not change the universal opinion that he and not Eugene was the real Pope.

The teacher and master could permit himself to send his disciple, the Pope, an ever memorable essay on the ideals of the Papacy (De Consideratione) . In this mirror for spiritual princes, Bernard the mystic and Bernard the political theoretician are strangely interwoven. The one demands that the Pope, indeed the Papacy as such, should steep itself in the consciousness of its religious mission, harangues like a prophet of old against the secularization of the Divine office, and as if the object were to keep off a black and burdensome future em- phasizes over and over again as the ideal of spiritual dominion a dominion of the mind and of a humanism perfect in the Christian sense. Bernard's Pope has not unrightiy been compared with Plato's Philosopher King. Yet there is another Bernard in this treatise who, despite all his insight into the fact that lust for power is worse than poison and the dagger and all his conviction that not force but the Word alone is the true weapon of the Good Shepherd, encourages the Pope to cling to the teaching of the two swords, one of which the priest himself should use and the other of which was to be drawn by a secular soldier at the bidding of the Emperor to whom the priest gives a sign. Therefore this majestic program of ecclesiastical administration, de- rived though it be from the spirit of the Scripture, reveals the con-


tradiction that lies in all attempts to remove the disparateness of might and right, sword and cross, service and command. But it raises such a host of demands that what is reasonable be made real, that might be used rightly, and that the throne be sanctified, that it remains a glow- ing appeal of imperishable significance to a Curia threatened by worldliness.

This tragic character of a philosophy of the Papacy in which the word "reason" plays a more prominent part than it does in any of the other writings of the mystical Bernard, is not without resemblance to the personal tragedy of Bernard as an active statesman. While he was writing it, news of the catastrophic finale of the Second Crusade reached him. Louis VII of France had instigated this Crusade. When Bernard was asked for his opinion, he seemed to have a premoni- tion of the fateful onslaught of the forces of dissension and worldliness which the beleaguered East was soon to lead against the West. At kast he insisted that the matter be referred to the Pope for his decision. Eugene assented and entrusted to Bernard the preaching and organiza- tion of the Crusade. The Abbot set out, kindled waves of enthusiasm in Burgundy and in France as well as up and down the Rhine in Ger- many, protected the Jews against the fury of those who were afire with zeal for the Cross, worked miracles which astonished him as much as they did those who were healed, and in Speyer persuaded even Conrad of Hohenstaufen to rally to the cause.

The undertaking ended unfortunately. This defeat of Christen- dom was due above all else to the unromantic and firm policy of Roger who estranged Byzantium from the crusading armies. But public opinion attributed it to the "anti-Christ," saying that he had worked only sham miracles. Bernard bore these insults with greatness and strength of soul. He felt confident that good would result from the misfortune, and placed himself between God and the muttering of men. So far as he was concerned, he had said all that was necessary in the treatise written for the Pope: "Every man must depend on the witness of conscience for a perfect and unconditional exoneration. What can it mean to me if those judge me who term good evil and evil good; who mistake darkness for light, and light for darkness? But if it must be that either God or I be accused, I prefer that it should be L How well it is for me if He has used me for His shield!"


The middle years of this century were everywhere restless and turbulent. It is difficult to say whether new teachings were bringing to light a new attitude toward life, or whether on the other hand a new trend toward the secular, toward the independence of secular culture, created its own new dicta. As is always the case in periods of transition, doubtless both things happened, for they have a common root and the hour was ripe for this to send up shoots. The intimate relationship between thought and deed was no secret to men of that time; and the passion with which they warred against heresy which after this would never cease to exact the energies of the Popes is explained by their realization that false teachings or erroneous tenden- cies of thought are immeasurably more seriously evil than all the sins of concupiscence. For they distort life, nature and society at their roots. From the beginning until now the Catholic Church has con- sistently termed freedom of the intellect, when interpreted to mean freedom to have any opinion one wishes, the sin above all sins. In times when the Church had full authority over men, she punished destructive teaching by destroying the teacher. Augustine's heritage had not been forgotten either in the philosophy dominant in those times or in Church discipline. When the ideas and the moods which during the course of a human life he had seen strike at the heart of the Church appeared once again in the Middle Ages (the ideas and moods are not numerous, they are constantly the same) the Papacy under- took in the name of the Church the defense of its endangered being.

But it was not the Curia, it was the real Pope of this troubled rime who led the struggle against Abelard. This time also he would not heed the opinion of those who thought his policy mistaken. Saints, they said, existed for the purpose of influencing souls and of receiving honours after their death; they were ill-advised when they attempted to counsel the world. Now the man for whom Christianity was not a garment but the blood of life, and for whom earthly things were merely iron which the fire of God could transfix, stood opposed to a dialectician and a moralist, who seems to have anticipated the rimes of Pierre Bayle, and Rousseau who admired him. To this antagonist of Bernard, God and truth were eternally beyond the "earthly pole." Man seemed to him the only object with which one could deal directly. The divine, which to the mystic Bernard was alone real and near,


dwelt in the region of everlasting interrogation. At the Synod of Sens, which met (1141) during the year preceding Abelard's death, the born saint and the born logician clashed headlong. It was one kind of man against another kind of man. The thinker was van- quished by the genius of the believer, and perhaps also by the weighti- est of the arguments he advanced: how are you to know the truth, when you do not possess the true spirit and that spirit does not possess you? He concluded by saying: "What you affirm proceeds, accord- ing to your own teaching, entirely from you and your human nature. It is your opinion merely opinion, and merely yours. How shall it, how dare it, become the opinion of those who possess the spirit that you do not possess?" Abelard was unable to ward off the onslaught of the Abbot. Indeed he seemed almost like a puzzled boy. The two made their peace, but their spirits confront each other in battle throughout history because there was truth and strength in both. When the heritage of the erring philosopher was bequeathed to them, the teachers of the Church knew (as their peers have always known) how to separate the wheat from the chaff and how to use that wheat. Thomas Aquinas, the greatest among them, was the unflinching an* tagonist of heresy, but to Rome we owe the honest dictum that error also helps the discovery of truth, and that all who set the mind in morion earn the gratitude of the philosopher.

In addition to Roger II and Abelard, it was the second's pupil, Arnold of Brescia, who caused Bernard and the Popes of his time the greatest concern. This Lombard canon was a symptom of impending change, taking a leading part in what was then a debate between the present and the past. But the retrospective time-spirit which im- pelled some to take a mere inventory of tradition which they were content to catalogue, and spurred others on to revive the traditions of antiquity be it that of the self-governing city-state, of the Roman republic, or of the Empire drove Arnold, the morally rigorous suc- cessor to the Pataria, into conflict with both the historical development of the Church and the contemporary state of his time. Bernard, too, attacked the Curia and the self-centred prelates of the age, and heaped scorn on the luxury of Cluny its menus, its table manners, and its modes of travel. But Arnold's preaching was more than criticism and reform. It was revolution. Like Tertullian the Montanist, he


declared that all the hieratic actions of a priest who did not lead a life in conformity with the strictest apostolic rule were invalid and worth- less* It was better, he said, that the laity should tell their sins to one another than to such a priest. He repudiated the temporal power and the temporal possessions of the Church. A powerful orator, he thundered in Rome against the kingship of Priest and Pope, bidding the Eternal City to voice its right to world-dominion and to free elec- tion, wholly independent of Papal control, of an Emperor by the Roman people. Eugene III, more conciliatory than the far-sighted Abbot of Clairvaux, who had driven the rebel Arnold out of France and then out of Zurich, was nevertheless finally forced to exile him as a schismatic, and to curb all priests who consorted with him with a threat of removal. But the Senate protected its prophet who was the true master of the young republic; and so there was postponed a decision which neither the Pope nor the Abbot lived to see. Frederic Barbarossa was unanimously elected Emperor after Conrad's death, and signed the Treaty of Constance in which he ignored the Senate's loudly profferred invitation to accept the crown from its hands; he promised to make no peace either with the Normans nor with the Romans without the Pope's concurrence, and to restore to the Holy Sec the control of Rome and the Papal states. Shortly afterward, during the summer of 1153, Eugene and Bernard died within a few weeks of each other.

Now there ensued a long, difficult struggle between the Papacy and die Hohenstaufens. Against the iron-willed defenders of die spirit of Hildebrand there was arrayed an Imperial power with a firmer basis in law and a new awareness of its historical mission. The Emperor was a strong, virtuous man. Meanwhile, however, the new forces of nationalist independence and civic self-government had arisen. It was the Papacy which understood more deeply what this trend signi- fied and which welcomed it as a new world of the spirit into its empire. But later on alien reality, a secular culture and an autonomous state, developed out of these trends. Changing peoples gave this reality new forms, according to political and spiritual circumstances, while trying to convert to their points of view a Church unable to surrender its theocratic claims.


Frederic was a splendid Emperor, distinguished, right-minded, cul- tured and brave. He was a genuine Christian of temperate mind who looked backward toward the splendour of Charlemagne's rule. Ger- man dissatisfaction with the weakness of the monarchy and German sorrow over all the blood and treasure which had perished in the Syrian deserts made it easier for him to conjure up a vision of a greater past. The spiritual aristocracy, too, was more than willing to recover inside the prosperous Imperial Church the position it had lost. Archbishops like Reinald von Dassel of Cologne, who was the Chancellor, or Christian of Mayence, who was the General, spoke and fought for the dominance of the German Church. The resurrection of Roman law and the new emphasis placed upon the great Justinian, the C&sar Papa, supplemented the lofty conception which had been formed of the Emperor and his sovereign authority. But the Popes of this era were no less able to look back upon the past greatness of the Papacy; and they looked also into a future already discernible in the omens of the present. It was not the movement towards municipal liberty which Rome had to fear, for this did not interfere in essential functions of the Church; it was the Emperor, for whoever he might be was the enemy. If Frederic said, as he already did in the first years of his rule, that in his hands had been placed the government of Rome and the wide world, urbis et orbis, that his Imperial authority proceeded from God, that he had been appointed by the Holy Spirit and placed above all men, as the viceroy of the King of Kings, then the Pope (and not he alone) was forced to issue a challenge.

This conflict of ideas, which at bottom was only a conflict between battlers for the same idea who lived in different orders of being, was necessarily followed by a political struggle over power, property and sovereign rights. The contest was concerned first and last with Italy. If the Emperor was to give his dominion world-wide significance he needed Italy, which since the First Crusade had once again become a land of central importance. The Pope needed it too, if he was not to be merely a vassal or an official of the Emperor, like any of the bishops of the Empire. As a result of its whole history the spiritual freedom and influence of the Papacy were so fatefully bound up with the exercise of worldly power that any increase of the majesty of the Ger- man Imperial authority necessarily implied a weakening of the Pope's


secular dominion. The rise of the municipalities was the factor needed to effect a solution of what would otherwise have been an unending conflict. The democratic spirit, especially in Lombardy, slowly but surely undermined the basis of the universal monarchy the feudal system. By joining forces with the new spirit of the communes, the Papacy escaped from the toils of worldly empire and harnessed the liberated energies to the work of building up its spiritual reign. Only the national kingdoms, France and England in particular, remained aloof.

Hadrian IV (1154-1159) was an Englishman of humble origin the only one of his countrymen ever to have worn the tiara. As or- ganizer of the Norwegian Church, he had demonstrated his energy and prudence. The first action of this Pope was to call upon die city of Rome to establish order. When the followers of Arnold slew a cardinal in the street, he imposed the interdict in order to force Arnold to leave the city. The Emperor, who had set off on his first trip to Rome, seized the "Apostle of the masses" in Tuscany and upon request of the Curia turned him over to the Papal prefect. There the first herald of the awakening self-consciousness of the poor paid on the gallows for the violence of the passion with which he had preached a Church of the spirit that would go about clad as a beggar. When his corpse had been burned, the mob which had followed Arnold plundered the treasury of the Papacy.

In June 1155, Frederic met Hadrian in Sum. He was annoyed to find that in accordance with a hallowed custom inaugurated in Carolingian rimes, he was required to hold the stirrup when the Pope mounted his horse. In retaliation the Pope refused to give Frederic the kiss of peace. The Emperor was furthermore displeased with a picture in the Lateran because this, in representing the acquisition by Emperor Lothar of the right over territories of Mathilda, bore an in- scription which called the German Emperor a vassal of the Pope. But in spite of all these difficulties, Barbarossa vastly preferred receiving the crown from the hands of Hadrian to getting it from the Romans, who had offered it to him for a goodly sum of money.

The peace was not destined to last long. When the Emperor was forced by the situation in Germany to go back home, and so could not fulfill the promise given Pope Eugene at the Treaty of Constance


that protection would be accorded against the Normans, the Pope decided to act in his own right. Roger's successor, William I, was even a more ominous threat to the Papal states. Without taking counsel with Barbarossa, Hadrian had concluded with this common enemy of Empire and Roman See the Treaty of Benevent which greatly strengthened the Norman power. The tension grew still more marked when the Emperor delayed in obtaining the freedom of Archbishop Eskill, of Lund, who had been attacked and robbed in Burgundy on his return homeward, and did not avenge the mis- deed. A Papal letter which two cardinals, one of whom was Hadrian's Chancellor Roland Bandinelli, a future Pope, delivered into Frederic's hands at the Reichstag of Besangon in 1157, aroused the anger of the ruler as well as that of the assembled dignitaries by phrases which im- plied that the Imperial dignity was a grant from the Pope. Reinald of Dassel and Roland Bandinelli, representing as they did the Ger- man Church and the Roman Curia, opposed each other like generals of fighting armies. The Cardinal, who had previously been a cele- brated professor of law at Bologna, left no one in doubt that the spirit of Hildebrand, which had hovered over the peace signed with the Normans, lived on unabated. He asked from whom else the Emperor had obtained the Empire if not from the Pope? The Pfalzgrave Otto of Wittelsbach drew his sword against Roland in a fit of anger, and Frederic himself was compelled to intervene lest worse things happen. After he had ordered out of the Imperial territory delegates sent to make a visitation of the German Church (Roland too was among them) he protested in a letter to his people against the arrogance of the Curia* Then the Pope took umbrage at this; the Bishops of Germany, where circles favouring the Emperor were already fostering the idea of an independent National Church severed from Rome, with Trier as the See of its Primate, rejected Hadrian's complaint unani- mously. Two things, they said, dominated the Empire: the sacred laws of the Emperor, and the good customs of their ancestors; and they were unwilling as well as unable to disregard the boundaries thus set to the Church's authority. The free crown of the Empire was, indeed, to be ascribed to divine grace alone: "We will not permit, we will not endure" that Papal letters such as the one now under debate be given the status of law.


The quarrel also divided the College of Cardinals, in which the friends of the Empire had already protested against the peace with the Normans; and Hadrian could not do otherwise than send a second letter to the Augsburg Reichstag in 1158, which softened what had been said in his first communication. During this same year Frederic crossed the Alps for the second time, to build up his rule in Italy. He subdued Milan; and on the fields outside Piacenza he avowed his claim to world sovereignty. On the advise of his lawyers he took the Csesaristic idea quite seriously. His decrees and his deeds raised the monarchical state power to a Byzantine perfection of authority. They undermined all the individual rights of the communes, made inroads into the rights of the Church, and brought to life again long- sleeping claims of dominion over Rome and the Papal states. Deaf to the protests of the Curia, Frederic negotiated with the Roman Senate and thus forced the Pope to look for support in the rebellious cities of Lombardy.

Hadrian IV died just as he was about to impose the ban on the Emperor, The majority of the Cardinals were willing to fight and elected Roland, who called himself Alexander III (11591181). An Imperial minority elected Cardinal Octavian as Victor IV (1159 1 164) , though the choice was made to the accompaniment of ludicrous incidents. Thus there began a schism which was to last seventeen years. The Emperor's power assured the anti-Pope of German and Lombard support. Alexander, unquestionably the rightly elected Pope, was upheld by France, England, Spain, Hungary, Ireland and Norway. Anathemas were mutual, as they had so often been. Pope Alexander betook himself from the perils of the Papal states to the country which had of old afforded refuge to beleaguered Popes. There he was not inactive and waited for events that would give him the advantage. Meanwhile he imposed the ban on Barbarossa, who then took a terrible toll at Milan.

Another occurrence beyond the Canal proved the inception of a tragic drama which soon darkened the Papal horizon. When Victor died in 1164, Reinald of Dassel had himself elected Pascal III during the same year, despite the readiness of Alexander and Frederic to make a peace. Suddenly the English Church was disrupted with strife.


Henry II, whose kingdom included Normandy and western France, found in his former Chancellor Thomas a Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury, a powerful opponent of royal plans to make the Church subservient to the state. At a Congress in Clarendon the King en- acted a number of decrees under the pretext that he was restoring "age old customs/' In reality they undermined traditional rights and institutions. The first point was that the clergy was to be subject to secular tribunals. Unless the King so permitted, no summons to Rome was to be obeyed and no journey out of England was to be undertaken. The election of bishops was to take place only in the King's Chapel and in accordance with his wishes. Ecclesiastical property was to be subject to the King's right of disposal. Threatened and deceived, the Primate and other bishops assented to these demands after a hard fight. When the Curia then condemned these new decrees the Primate withdrew his assent and escaped the wrath of the King by fleeing to France and to the Pope. Alexander paid no attention to the English demand that he be deposed, but was soon compelled to realize that at the Reichstag of Wiirzburg (1165) , Eng- land and the Emperor (acting under English influence, which em- bittered a great part of Germany) had joined the party of the anti- Pope. Bishops and priests in attendance joined with Barbarossa in swearing that they would sever themselves "forever from the schismatic Roland." The moving spirit in this was Reinald, the Chancellor. Alexander did not tremble at this broadside, for the English Church as a whole was on his side; and the English King, Frederic's new ally, disavowed the oaths sworn by his legates at Wiirzburg.

Meanwhile the Imperial power in Italy had rapidly declined. In the^spring of 1 144 it was opposed by a league between the enslaved cities of the Veronese district and Venice, the city republic which the Emperor had threatened to subjugate. In the autumn of 1 165, Alex- ander returned to Rome; but new problems, above all the death of William of Normandy, to whose throne a boy succeeded, again brought the Emperor to Italy on a mission of destruction. Milan gave him only a sombre welcome; and as soon as he left the disaffection of Lombardy grew stronger. The armies commanded by his faithful generals Christian and Reinald cleared a path to Rome for Frederic. Clad as a pilgrim, Alexander fled to Benevent and could see St. Peter's


burning in the distance. The frightened Romans submitted to the master of the Empire, and Pascal crowned the Emperor and Empress once again. Barbarossa's next objective was the destruction of the Norman power. But suddenly death threw itself across the path o the army. Thousands died in a few days of the pest and among them were the best of Frederic's loyal retainers. The foremost victim was Reinald of Dassel, who, falling at the height of his power, left behind him no comparable advocate of German Imperialism. The people maintained that this was God's judgment on the burning -of St, Peter s. Barbarossa, almost alone and disguised like the Pope he had put to flight, hurried back to Germany over difficult roads. That was the year 1168. Milan rebuilt itself from its ruins, and the Lom- bard League created a new army of defense which was called "Alles- andria" in honour of the Pope and in spite of the Emperor.

Pascal died during the same year and Calixtus III (11681178) followed him as anti-Pope. In England the war upon the Church came to a bloody end. Thomas a Becket returned after six years of exile, and made his peace with the King. But the monarch di- rected a word of censure at the Primate the occasion was the ex- communication of three bishops who had exceeded their rights and a few knights took it upon themselves to avenge the ingratitude shown their master. They slew Thomas in his Cathedral. Christendom was frightened, but it had been given a new martyr. Alexander him- self raised Thomas a Becket to the altar. Horrified at what had hap- pened, the king assured the Pope that he had not ordered this murder done, and sought to come to terms with the Roman See. The Church won a complete victory when Henry was obliged by the troubles and scandals incident to his family life and by the angry mood of his people to make a penitential pilgrimage to the grave of the Saint. He went barefoot and insisted that the monks scourge him with reeds.

Before these events had taken place, Frederic had already begun to negotiate with the Pope; but the effort came to naught, and he was compelled to resort to arms once more when England's alliances with Castile and Sicily hinted at imperialistic ambitions. His action was aided by dissension among the cities of upper Italy, and also by the secession o Venice from the League. Moreover Frederic laid a new foundation for the Imperial power in the South when he bought the


rights to new possessions in Italy from the old Duke Guelph. Nev- ertheless these advantages were counterbalanced by the opposition of the Guelph-English ambitions of Henry the Lion, who was annoyed by Frederic's purchases (among other things) , and therefore did not come to his assistance during the negotiations which took place on the shores of Lake Como. Frederic marched to battle outside Al- lesandria and Legnano in 1176 with insufficient forces; he was de- feated and barely managed to escape with his life. Now he suddenly altered his policy, broke the fateful oath he had sworn at Wiirzburg, and sought to negotiate with the Curia. There, too, peace was de- sired. Alexander was old and tired of fighting. He saw that the financial situation of the Holy See was chaotic, that Rome and the Papal States were shaken by schism, and that great damage had been done to faith and discipline.

After a preliminary Treaty at Anagni, peace was signed in Venice during 1177. Alexander was surrounded everywhere by jubilant crowds when he went to the City of the See and sent to the Emperor's residence legates announcing that the ban had been lifted. Frederic rode in the Gondola of the Doges to St. Mark's Square, which had been festively adorned. There Alexander awaited him on a throne erected at the entrance to the Cathedral. Frederic fell at his feet, and the Pope embraced him, giving him the kiss of peace. When they entered the Cathedral together the Germans intoned the Te Deum. After Mass Barbarossa held the stirrup for the Pope, who was about to ride away, and begged leave to accompany him to his distant residence. This, however, the Pope courteously refused. Thus a struggle of seventeen years ended in a second Canossa. Frederic abandoned the anti-Pope and recognized Alexander, who dealt mag- nanimously with Calixtus. Then he restored the Papal States as well as the treasures that had been removed, and guaranteed to the Pope dominion over the City of Rome and veritable sovereignty in his domain. For his part the Pope did not interfere in the affairs of the independent German Church, nor did he challenge the German idea of monarchy. Therewith he abandoned the idea of carrying out the whole of Hildebrand's reform.

The third great Lateran Synod of 1 179 confirmed the peace. There a decree sought to forestall all future danger of a schism by deciding


that if the Cardinals disagreed he was to be considered a lawfully elected Pope who obtained two-thirds of the votes. Since that time schisms have not resulted from disagreement inside the College of Cardinals. Other decisions reached by the Council were omens of that coming intellectual apostasy from the Church which was to prove so profoundly disturbing during the near future. Not long after this solemn finale, during the summer of 1181, Alexander, once again driven from a Rome still rocked by inner dissension, died in Civita Castellana.

This peace had been a peace between men, not between powers. Between 1180 and 1183 Frederic destroyed the power of Henry the Lion in Germany, and made a peace with Lombardy by which the latter was given the right to control its own political affairs on the con- dition that it recognized the Emperor as its supreme master. Thus Frederic saved the honour of the crown. Then he married his son Henry to Constance, posthumous daughter of the great Roger and hereditary princess of the Norman kingdom. The wedding took place in a reconciled Milan during the early months of 1 186. Henry received the Crown of Italy from the Patriarch of Aquileia, and called himself Csesar. The Empire thus faced the fortune and misfortune attendant upon incorporating within its boundaries a mighty and flourishing state. But Germany was soon to see that it had lost as much as the Empire had won that at the end the House of the Hohenstaufens would sink into the soil of the most splendid of its conquered lands.

The Papacy was now threatened by the grip of the Empire from the North and the South. Rome itself had room for the warring Imperial factions and the sovereign people, but not for the Popes. Lucius III spent only a few months there during the four years of his pontificate; Urban III and Gregory VIII never resided in the city; Clement III (1187-1 191) was the first Pope who could effect a recon- ciliation with the Senate and return. After many difficulties and defeats in attempting to carry on the policy of his predecessors he was given a new objective, which it is true, had already presented itself to Gregory VTII. This was a Crusade against Saladin, who in 1184 had decimated the Christian army and conquered Jerusalem. The Pope won over Genoa and Pisa as well as the Kings of France and


England, and sent his preachers throughout all Christendom. A new crusading army was formed, but the results gained from this under- taking did not repay the cost. Barbarossa lost his life on the expedi- tion; the leaders disagreed and only an unsatisfactory treaty with the Sultan remained as the mutilated part of the achievement that had been planned.

Henry VI was now lord of the Empire. He did not possess the pathos or the sympathetic personality of his father, but his ambitions were the same. Indeed they were even more daring. This young, sombre Hohenstaufen, unscrupulous in the sense in which that word is usually employed when speaking of great politicians, seemed des- tined therefore to build up a world monarchy. The Papacy had rea- son to be afraid of him. His reign did not open auspiciously: when William II of Sicily died without heirs in 1189, it became necessary to determine upon a successor. The lords of the kingdom sponsored, possibly not without the connivance of the Pope, the candidacy of Count Tancred of Lecce, an illegitimate scion of the Norman house. Henry marched on Rome with an army and in 1191 received from Celestine III (1191-1198) the Imperial crown that had long since been promised him. The first attack upon his heritage failed. An international league, which of necessity the Pope was compelled to favour, threatened to hedge in the Emperor; its members were Sicily, the Guelphs and England. In this situation he was aided by fortune. Richard of the Lion Heart, then King of England, had fallen into the hands of his personal enemy the Duke of Austria, while returning from the Crusade. Fostering his own ends, Henry ransomed the King and then gave him freedom after he had paid a large sum of money, had withdrawn from the league with Tancred, and had promised to aid the Emperor as his vassal in all dealings with the Guelphs. Then Tan- cred died and the Emperor could occupy the Sicilian Kingdom un- opposed.

While the coronation was taking place at Christmas, 1194, Con- stance, then forty years old, bore him a long desired son and heir who was christened Frederic Roger. The aged Pope Celestine, then ninety, faced a troubled future. He and his Curia were so powerless that they could consider only a policy based on secret diplomacy. It


was not with unmixed joy that he beheld the Emperor arming for a new Crusade; for while the preparations (which were not under- taken to please the Papacy) were in progress, the Pope was shown the true nature of this new Crusader. Henry took vengeance on the Sicilian barons who had conspired against him and all the Germans in their land. He ordered that the eyes of the guilty should be put out; then they were to be placed on seats of glowing iron and given red-hot crowns or sceptres. After the fleet had gone out to sea fol- lowing the battle of Acre, the avenger died of the fever in Messina at the age of thirty-two and was buried in Palermo. The Pope was laid to rest during the same year, 1 198. Henry's widow Constance made common cause with the national Sicilian party and before she died which was in that same year she decreed that the new Pope Innocent III should be Imperial administrator of Apulia and Sicily as well as the guardian of her child, who had been elected German King before his father's death.

That death had shaken, more severely than the dying Emperor himself had foreseen, the Hohenstaufen system, the greatness and power of which depended so much upon the ability of a given ruler. When two Emperors were elected, the Hohenstaufen Philip of Swabia, Henry's brother, and the Guelph Otto IV, son of Henry the Lion, civil war broke out in Germany and with it came the destruction of the monarchy. Italy, which coveted national independence, breathed freely as the power of the German strangers weakened. England was no longer dependent upon the Empire, and the realm of the Normans was governed by the Pope as regent. The hour was auspicious for a strong Pope able to extend the influence of Hildebrand's ideas.

The throne to which the third Innocent (11981216) ascended was in truth the throne of the world. For there was no other visible centre of authority; and to its power the rulers of earth bowed as to that which was superior to themselves. Nevertheless in the world embraced by this spiritual Empire there began to appear fissures deeper than had ever before appeared since the Christian name gained dominion over Europe. Even during the first half of the century which began under this Pope, there were manifested all the contradictions of which hu- man nature is capable and all the varieties of tension and conflict that


can affect society. Innocent III, Honorius III, Gregory IX and In- nocent IV are the Popes who figure in the bitter final struggle with the Empire and its revolutionary master, Frederic II; but they were also spectators and actors in a drama that ushered in a new epoch of the Papacy.

Count Lothar, of the Roman family of the Conti, was born in Anagni and was still in early manhood when he became Pope. To him the words of Walther von der Vogelweide were directed: "Alas, the Pope is too young; Lord help Thy Christendom!" He was elected unanimously and was more mature than the poet who was so con- cerned lest the world might suffer because of his youth. Clement III had educated him in the political business of the Holy See; and under Celestine III, the enemy of his family, he had found time to write. The most interesting of his books to later rimes is De Contempts Mundi, which portrays a puzzling soul full of fire and pride, a man who had a penetrating wit and nevertheless practised stern ascetic self-discipline, who proved himself a man of action as well as of deep culture, and who nevertheless could complain so bitterly about the misery of human existence. The riddle is not more baffling than is the vanitas vanitatttm of Solomon, with whom this Conti was allied in spirit. To comb one's hair, to have colourfully embroidered napkins and ivory knives on one's table, pictures on the walls, rugs on the floors, bulging pillows on one's bed, to have in one's breast sensual urges and to feel a desire for renown and glory all this he views with feelings which arise out of Weltschmerz rather than out of joy- ful following of Him who preached the Sermon on the Mount. His own inner struggles are apparent and so he seeks desperately to hide them. But the Idea in which he believes enkindles him to renuncia- tion, and curbs the damon by which that Idea is threatened. To him real freedom from the world lies in true mastery in control of one- self but not of oneself alone. On the day when he was crowned Pope, he voiced, as had Leo I and all great Popes, the conviction that the Papacy is the primacy of the Roman and universal Church in the everliving Peter. Nevertheless his words sound more personal, more related to himself, than do those of the Pontiffs who preceded him: "But who am I, that I should sit aloft above the kings and occupy this throne of splendour? To me are the words of the prophet spoken,


'I have placed thee above the peoples of the kingdom in order that thou mightest attack and tear down, destroy and scatter, plant and build up anew!' . . . For you see who the servant is who has been placed above the household the viceroy of Jesus Christ, the follower of Peter, the anointed of the Lord God of Pharaoh, placed as a mediator between God and men, under God and yet above men, lesser than God, but greater than man. . . Thus is Peter lifted up unto the full- ness of power."

The man of slight build who spoke these words was to develop to the full the heritage of Gregory VII. With all his energy he lived according to the principle that nothing which happens in the world must escape the regard and the power of the Roman Pontiff. He, a scholastic thinker and a dialectician, a jurist and a theologian, looked upon his culture, acquired in Paris and Bologna, as a great good. He wrote to the King of France that he owed everything he had of science, after the grace of God, to the University of Paris. As long as he lived he protected this young foundation and defended its teachers and students against the tyranny of the Bishop of Notre-Dame.

Innocent gained the upper hand in Rome with great effort and after many setbacks. The resistance of the city to him who was really its Papal national politician lasted a long while. The nobles chose the psychological moment in which to make a pact with the people, who had not forgotten their Arnold of Brescia. The battle-towers of re- bellious barons arose in the Colosseum, in the Theatre of Marcellus, and in the Baths of Caracalla. What the mob thought of Popes was demonstrated anew on the day when the body of Alexander III was brought home from exile for burial. Stones and mud were hurled at the coffin. During many a day and many a night, Innocent sat in the Lateran Palace listening to the bells on the Capitol summon men to civil war. Long after the city prefect and the Senate had sworn him an oath of allegiance, "the ill-tempered mare" as Dante called Rome rebelled again. During the spring of 1203, the Pope fled from the burning city. After ten months he returned, silenced the demagogues and bribed the leaders of the people with money. This rime he secured everything he wanted, including the right to name and remove the fodesta, who was the administrator of Roman executive power. Innocent, who termed himself fatherly protector


of Italy, also gained back again for the Roman See some parts of the Papal States, which had become Imperial territory during the wars with the Hohenstaufens. There he replaced the Imperial authorities with Papal rectors. Whenever that was possible, he assumed the role of protector of the Italian communes and opposed the Empire, which he hated as much as Augustine had hated the ancient Empire, because it was built on force. But these communes became states within the state, and thus social entities in their own right. Science in the universities began to be autonomous, just as did politics in the chancellories of kings and princes, or poetry and aesthetic culture at the courts. All these things together hollowed out from within the Imperial idea, which had embraced within itself all aspects of earthly activity; and in the same way the times of Innocent and the Popes who immediately followed him confronted the Church with a trend away from Imperial to state authority, from a prophetic, creative atti- tude of mind to an intellectual, methodical attitude, and from divinely given inspiration to Church law.

The theocratic consciousness of Hildebrand, who felt as he wrote his epistles that Peter himself was looking over his shoulder, was not to be acquired in Bologna and Paris. More than ever before ques- tions of law were decided by a Papacy which studied the juridical and ethical implications of the corpus juris. Innocent, the "apostolic oracle," answered all questions magnanimously and without bias as wisely as if he were a second Solomon. A Geneva monk who was expert in surgery had operated on a peasant woman for goitre and had ordered her to stay in bed. But the woman went to work and died as a result. The question now arose: dare a man who has com- mitted a murder unwillingly, continue to exercise the priestly func- tion? Yes, said Innocent, it is true that the religious was at fault in practising such a craft, but since he acted in the spirit of human sympathy and not for money and was a conscientious medical practi- tioner he cannot be held responsible for the death of a woman who did not do his bidding. Therefore, after he has performed his pen- ance, he may say Mass again. May sick persons eat meat in Lent if they do not give alms? Yes, replied the Pope, necessity is here the law. May a bastard become a bishop? This was forbidden by the traditional law. Innocent sent the chapter of Lincoln this reply:


One can make an exception when the man in question is able and has rendered real service, when circumstances compel it, and when all the electors are in agreement. In Palestine Moslem converts came breez- ily to the baptismal font with the four wives the Koran permitted them and their bounteous offspring. Could they become Christians? This time Innocent hesitated; but then he bethought himself of Abraham and the other fathers who had lived no differently from the Turks. The Gospel itself, he said, contains no page in which po- lygamy is expressly forbidden. And since it seems that the heathens can lawfully have several wives according to the laws of their own cults, they may keep them in accordance with the custom of the Pa- triarchs when they become Christians. His principle that mercy stood higher than the law did not prevent the Pope from insisting upon an upright juridical practice, nor did it keep him from exercising mer- ciless sternness when judges were found to sponsor dubious interpreta- tions of the law.

The greatest successes of Innocent's policy were obtained outside the scope of the German problem. In England John Sansterre, whom his own brother Richard of the Lion Heart had excluded from the succession in his testament, came under suspicion as having murdered the heir apparent and was summoned to appear in France for trial by the Breton nobles. When he did not respond, he was deprived of his lands in France. England appealed to Innocent for a decision, but Philippe Auguste forbade the Church to interfere in this quarrel be- tween kings; for he himself had run afoul of the Pope by reason of his marital troubles. Innocent did not abandon his right and duty to either side. When the election of a bishop to the See of Canterbury resulted in a dual choice, the chapter appealed to him and he charged an English commission with conducting a free election in Rome. John, however, refused to recognize the Archbishop-elect, Cardinal Stephen Langton, took action against the monks of Canterbury, con- fiscated their property and berated the Pope. When all means of spiritual influence were exhausted, Innocent placed England under the interdict in 1208. No divine service was held in the churches, no candle burned, the Cross and every statue were veiled. The dead were borne along the streets without prayer or benefit of clergy. Only children were baptized, and the dead were given the Viaticum.


Anger and dejection spread among the people. John swore venge- ance, and carried out his oath with terrible cruelty. Well-nigh the whole clergy disappeared from England, churches and monasteries were sacked, and the Jews were either tortured until they gave the King their money or driven to suicide when they could not flee the country. In 1209 Innocent went further and imposed the ban on John; but even then the persecution of the Church did not cease. Then in 1211 the Pope declared the Plantagenet deposed from his throne, and released his subjects of their oath of loyalty. The King of France was to carry out this verdict in so far as John's possessions on the Continent were concerned.

Philippe Auguste of France had already come to grips with the Papacy under Celestine III. Soon after his marriage with Ingeborg, he had put her aside and wedded Agnes de Meran. Ingeborg sum- moned Innocent as well as Celestine to aid her cause, and they cham- pioned her right by imposing the ban and the interdict on the King, whom intimated prelates had helped to have his will. Philippe finally gave way to popular feeling and separated himself from Agnes, who died soon thereafter. Nevertheless Ingeborg remained under arrest and continued to beseech Innocent to obtain justice for her. Events in England now induced the Pope, who during the struggle for power between the two countries, had hitherto protected the lands of the Lionheart against the Capetian monarch's desire of conquest, to pit the strength of France against John. During twelve years he had ceaselessly besought Philippe to set his marriage in order, gradually sub- stituting persuasion for command. Now, when he formally sum- moned the king to undertake a crusade against John, he found in him who had chronically berated the Papacy a zealous advocate of Papal authority. For he had long since cherished a dream of landing a force in England. Now the banished Ingeborg was once more attractive to her husband. He declared that she was his lawful wife, received absolution from Innocent and prepared to take the field against John. Meanwhile the Papal Legate suggested to the English monarch that his only salvation lay in submitting to the Pope. John, who was also menaced by foes in England, knelt before the Legate, took his hand and swore that he would obey the Pope. He restored peace to the Church and ruled that the Kingdom of England and Ireland, as a


dependency of Rome, had to pay tribute. The King of France was now compelled to abandon his English Crusade. Innocent threatened him with the ban if he laid hands on the newly acquired dominions of the Holy See.

The year following, 1214, Philippe Auguste defeated the German King Otto, who had formed an alliance with John Sansterre, in the Battle of Bouvines in Flanders. Then the spiritual and temporal nobles of England, under the leadership of Stephen Langton, pro- tected themselves against the autocratic dictates of their King, misrule and spoliation of the churches, by compelling him to sign the Magna Charta Libertatum in 1215. This basic law establishing the state as an aristocracy supported by the people became England's charter of liberal constitutional government and public law. Then Pope In- nocent, acting as protector of his vassal, repudiated the bill of rights thus obtained by "rebels who had had recourse to arms." Unmoved by the bitterness felt by all those involved, he hurled the anathema at them. Even the Primate was affected. The Pope had reason to fear that a people which obtained independence might dispense with his temporal power. In Shakespeare's King John one can still hearken to the echo of the storm the Pope aroused in England. It was only when the Barons called the armies of the Dauphin Louis VIII (whom Innocent also banned), and when John Sansterre died of hardships incurred during a gruesome flight, that his son Heniy III confirmed the Magna Charta. England remained a fief of the Pope until this relationship was formally abrogated by Parliament under Edward III in 1366.

In much the same way, the Pope took a hand in the politics of all other European countries. He compelled the Kings of Leon and Aragon to obey the marriage laws of the Church; he imposed on Aragon and Portugal the duty to pay tribute; he gave the Bulgarians and the Wallachs their kings; and he acted as arbitrator in Poland, Hungary, Dalmatia and Norway. He called the nations to a new Crusade, but against his will this ended in a siege of Constantinople. The leader of the fleet was the blind, nineteen-year-old Doge of Ven- ice, who was much more concerned with conquering the city than with wresting the Holy Land from Islam. Therewith the Byzantine Em-


pire came to an end in Europe, and for sixty years a Latin Empire kept watch on the Bosphorus.

The Papal guardian of Frederic met with no success in carrying out his German policy. At first he maintained neutrality in the struggle for the throne between Philip of Swabia and Otto the Guelph, Then, because Philip in his capacity as administrator of the Mathildan do- main had interfered with the rights of the Church, and also because the entire Hohenstaufen faction did not recognize the Papal gains in the Papal States, Innocent went over to the side of Otto, who was rich in promises. He imposed the ban on Otto's opponents and in an- swer to their protest declared that, though the German princes un- questionably had the right to elect their King, it was the Pope's priv- ilege to examine the king elected before crowning him Emperor, and, in case that two candidates were chosen, to decide in favour of the one who appeared most likely to perform his royal duties. Philip gained the larger number of supporters and had already succeeded in inducing Innocent to free him from the ban, when he was murdered by a Wittelsbach assassin in 1208. Otto, who was betrothed to Phil- ip's daughter, was now unquestionably King and renewed all the golden promises he had made to the Pope. But once crowned Em- peror (1209) he was no longer anxious to keep them. What was still worse, he wrecked the political plan on which the Curia had staked its greatest hopes. It sought to prevent once and forever the union under one rule of the Neapolitan Sicilian Kingdom and the Empire, since this would have placed the Italian Church states anew under the control of the Empire. When Otto, who had already sub- jugated the mainland, wanted to conquer Sicily also, the Pope first imposed the ban on him and then induced the German princes to depose him and elect a new ruler. The choice fell on Frederic, as Henry VI had already foreseen, and Innocent approved. The reason was that Frederic recognized the Pope's right to determine the fate of Sicily, and obediently conveyed the Sicilian crown to his infant son. The Hohenstaufen monarch was then seventeen years old and was received with enthusiasm in the land of his ancestors. He became King of Germany; and by the Golden Bull of Ager he promised, with the assent of the princes, to fulfill all the spiritual and temporal requests,


of the Pope, The year following Otto lost the Battle of Bouvines, and neither he nor his English ally recovered from the blow. The Papacy had thus pressed to its bosom a young and beautiful viper who would soon prove (as Voltaire was to say later on) "un modele de la plus parfait politique."

These events were followed by the Council of the Lateran (1215) which was the greatest assemblage of churchmen the world had ever seen. Many more than a thousand ecclesiastics, including the Patri- archs of Constantinople and Jerusalem, delegates from Alexandria and Antioch, and legates of the temporal rulers assembled. Archbishop Roderic of Toledo delivered in Latin, French, German, English and Spanish a greatly admired address on the extent of the Papal powers. To this spiritual glorification the Bishop of Liege appended a symbol of the temporal power of the Church by appearing on the first day as a Count clad in scarlet, on the second day as a Duke dressed in green, and on the third day as a Bishop arrayed in violet garments.

Innocent opened the sessions with a feeling that he was soon to die: "I have desired with a great desire to eat this Pascal Lamb with you before I go." The situation then existing throughout the world entitled him to liken the authority of the Papacy to the Sun and the power of Kings to the Moon, which bears its light as a loan from the day star. A man who despised the world sat on a throne from which he ruled the world; and the just steward (whom the press of business he so much deplored had never robbed of a deep earnestness of thought or of the gravity so characteristic of the true Roman statesman) , had proved himself a frugal householder who knew how to garner but also how to give, and who lived as simply as Cincinnatus himself. He had been loyal to the sentiments he had uttered on the day of his coronation: "If I wished to teach and not to do, you would rightly say to me 'Doctor, cure yourself!' One has every reason to despise the sermon of a man who himself gives scandal." The hostile lyrics of Walther von der Vogelweide "Aha, how Christlike is now the Pope's laughter" had missed their target. The Council discussed steps to be taken in order to regain the Holy Land, and the Reforma- tion of the Church. Seventy canons on matters of faith, law and discipline gave a new expression to ancient binding legislation. They dealt with the act of consecration, the Mass, indulgences and their


misuse, Easter duty, the curbing of a monasticism grown too luxuriant, and the uprooting of heresy. The ban was once more imposed on Otto IV, and Frederic the Hohenstaufen was recognized as the duly elected Emperor.

During the next year Innocent set out for Lombardy with the ob- ject of settling the war between Genoa and Pisa. But he died in Perugia and was buried there. Soon a German chronicler set down the legend that the restless soul of the dead Pope had appeared again on earth, surrounded by the flames of Purgatory: driven by the whips of the Devil through the world, it finally reached the foot of the Cross and cried aloud for the prayers of the faithful. This story enshrined the truth that the Popes remained as conscious of the dan- gers and temptations latent in the temporal power of the Church as were the early Christians. During the nineteenth century, Leo XIII erected a monument to the Pontiff of the thirteenth century who served him as a revered model: in the semidarkness of the basilica, Innocent sleeps with hands folded and with the tiara on his head, looking as young as when Giotto had drawn him in his pictures of St. Francis.

The great concerns of Innocent's pontificate had been Emperor and Empire, Mendicant Orders and heresy. The same things were to bring joy and sorrow to his successors. The cosmos of the Catholic Church is a perfect co-ordination of antitheses which hover in constant tension, maintaining themselves and mutually softening one another. In it the rights of the divine and the human, of the temporal and the timeless, of the material and the spiritual, of the soul and the intellect, of freedom and subservience, of mastery and service, tend like spokes of a wheel towards the point of rest at the centre, in which all the energies moving in and out part company and join forces alike. It is just this fullness of life in balance which makes the Church a cosmos. But the separate energies which it embraces and fosters, harnessing each to the rest, are always in conflict when seen as historical realities. Each wishes to be alone and to dominate. In addition it always seems right at any given moment that one certain idea should be emphasized above all others. Therefore it is eminently natural that as a rule the richest and most active eras are those which most violently oppose the Church's system of doctrine and life. The Church of the thirteenth


century received in the Samma of St. Thomas Aquinas, grand-nephew of Barbarossa and heritor of both German and Latin blood, a marvel- lously harmonious reflection of its inner structure. At the same time, however, it witnessed efforts of unparalleled vigour to effect emanci- pation from its religious and spiritual communion. To live in the Catholic state of tension was unendurable to many spirits; and both good and evil men found in the administration of the Church an excuse, or even an incentive, for separating themselves from it. To one who looks closely the whole Middle Ages are like a landscape shot through with fissures and chasms in spite of all these cleavages. The fact that Europe held together out of a sense of devotion to the ulti- mate highest things can hardly be understood unless one has recourse to the mysterious law which governs the throne of Peter. Again and again it has learned the truth of salus ab inimicis; and this was also to be the case during the storms of the turbulent thirteenth century. The fact that many who opposed the Church were subjectively right and in conformity with Christian principle, compelled the Popes to be on guard and despite everything to guide the wild waters at last behind the dams of the universal Church. Generally they achieved it with spiritual means, as for instance through the movement which fostered poverty. Where these failed, sometimes through the fault of those who applied them, the result was a baneful recourse to force, as in the Albigensian Wars.

The Mendicant Orders of Franciscans and Dominicans had been founded under Innocent III. Legend has it that in a dream the Pope had seen the two founders, the Umbrian and the Spaniard, supporting the tottering Lateran Basilica. This story enshrines the historical truth that the best men of the time entertained dark fears when wide- spread apostasy proved a reality in France. The long and tedious process by which the spiritual world-state was eventually to be dis- rupted had already begun. Prophecies of the Calabrian Abbot Joachim di Fiore, who died in 1202, declared that a great judgment would be held over "the Church which anti-Christ ruled." An age of the Eternal Gospel that is of deeper spiritual understanding of the Bible was to begin. Joachim preached of a coming new Or- der which would substitute a Church of the spirit for a Church of the flesh. At the same time the call to penance and poverty preached


by the Lyonnaise merchant Peter Waldes, and his French or Lombard followers, offered further proof that a revolution of the spirit was in progress.

This revolution was quiet and peaceful at first. In Southern France, however, a rival of the Church began to emerge. This, the richest and most fruitful country of Europe, had been of old a fertile soil for Gnostic rebellion against Christendom. Its spirited, sense-loving population has often wavered between unlimited devotion to pleasure and a nihilistic renouncement of life. Nowhere else in any Christian land did the Manichean dualism of the Cathari flourish as it did here. Before the year 1000 this doctrine had spread westward from the Bal- kans to the Champagne district and had erected its first chapels in Lombardy. In the French south, Albi was its headquarters; and from this city the sect took its name. Lust of life and hatred of life were peculiarly or rather very naturally mingled in the activity and teachings of the group. The "perfect" and the "comforted" carried asceticism to the point of suicide; but the "simple" lived mer- rily and gaily, scoffed at eternity and followed the counsels of the troubadours concerning women. When death came it was merely to open to them the door of Paradise by reason of the imposition of hands, the consolamentum by one who was "perfect." If the body was created by the Devil just as the soul is created by God, what dif- ference could it make whether the body had offered homage to pleas- ure or to flagellation? Complete pessimism regarding marriage, the family, and social obligations were contrasted with the edifying exam- ple given by the truly saintly conduct of the strict observer, which con- duct the people then compared with the scandal so frequently given by priests, monks and prelates of the Church. Since the Albigensians hated Rome, which they termed the Church of temporal power, of darkness and of the Devil, the nobles encouraged the Cathari in every possible way. Not unjustly had Innocent said at the Lateran Coun- cil that all the deterioration of the people proceeded chiefly from the clergy. And now a new spirit of purity, discipline and strict observ- ance spread as the new Orders gained strength.

The Albigensian War broke out in 1209 and lasted through twenty years of manifold cruelty. Innocent tried in every possible way to gain the upper hand over the rival church by peaceful means, but his


legates and the Cistercian missionaries failed miserably. It was their fault that armed conflict ensued. Then the Crusade, which the Pope endorsed only on the provision that it would merely dispossess and drive out the heretics, became, despite the religious earnestness of many knights, a deplorable war of conquest carried on by French barons against the landed nobility of the south. While its devilish work was proceeding in the name of Christ, Dominic Guzman, who had crossed the Pyrenees 'with his Bishop Diego, organized spiritual resistance. In conformity with a religious ideal of poverty which had made an increasingly deep impression on Catholic countries since the close of the twelfth century, he opposed to the successful educa- tional work done by the Albigensian women a new Catholic force, the nucleus of which was the Society of cloistered women of Prouillc (1206). Later (1215) he founded in Toulouse a company of thor- oughly educated preachers, whose function it was to train the people to combat heresy. This work was authorized during the following year by Pope Honorius III, but not until 1220 did Dominic's group follow the example of the Franciscans and become a Mendicant Order. This Spaniard of German ancestry had a worthy companion in his apostolic labour Francis, the son of an Umbrian merchant. Mod- em times, which derive a picture of Francis from the Fioretti alone, do not quite know him. He was more than a troubadour of heavenly love and a gentle friend to all living creatures. Under the cover of gold and azure paint which later rimes have laid over him, there is hidden the original a strong, unflinching man of action who con- fronted the Church and the uncouth feudalism of his time with the simple, uncompromising force of the Gospel. Courageously he read the Sermon on the Mount to Popes and prelates, insisting that decre- tals and texts of canon law must not consign it to oblivion. The Wolf of Gubbio, whom he forbade to plunder, is only a symbol of the barons to whom he preached his sermon of justice with burning pas- sion. He lived for the Church which had forgotten the humble and all those oppressed by feudal rules. For the sake of these disinherited ones as well as for that of their brutal masters, he himself lived the poor life of Christ. His rule sundered him and his "company" from the evil powers of the time, from money, sensuality, arrogance, barbarism, sloth and forgetfulness of God. "The rule and life of these brethren"


he proclaimed, "is this: to live under obedience, in chastity and with- out property so that they may follow the teachings and the footsteps of Our Lord, Jesus Christ." One who demands much of men can always win them over to his side; and so Francis' ideals spread as rapidly as does bread among the hungry. He established an Order for men in 1209, and one for women in 1212. To this there was added in 1221 a Third Order for those living in the world. In addi- tion to fostering the especial duties of charity and devotion, he brought about a memorable social renaissance. The craftsmen and workers among his tertiaries were to pay a small tax wherewith a capital was to be formed that would serve their needs, enable them to establish an industry, or make possible the purchase of a bankrupt nobleman's land.

When the politicians around Frederic II began to understand the import of this self-help to which the working population was resort- ing; when the Emperor looked upon the tertiaries as rebels like the Manicheans and the Paterena; when the Franciscan world itself pro- duced a schismatic trend which sought to declare the ideal of poverty in its full strictness a dogma; when its martyrs died by fire or sat be- hind the prison walls of the Inquisition yearning for the dawn of the day of God Francis of Assisi had long since departed from the scene of the troubles. And though men spoke of him over his grave as "the second Christ," they misused or misunderstood his words. His saintly, wholehearted desire had been to serve the Church, which through its Popes Innocent III and Gregory IX (Cardinal Ugolino) had served him and his work. His rule of 1210 began: "This is the life according to the Gospel of Jesus Christ, which Brother Francis requested the Lord Pope Innocent to allow unto him and to confirm; and the Lord Pope permitted it and confirmed it for him and the brethren whom he had and would have. Brother Francis, and who- ever after him shall be head of this association, promise obedience and loyalty to Lord Innocent, the Pope, and his successors. And all other brethren are bound in duty to obey Brother Francis and his successors."

The two great founders were not more like each other than are heart and mind. Francis, the Lover, at the end rose from earth to meet the Master whom he had seen with arms opened out wide on the Cross, and whose own Wounds he had received. The studious


Dominic was like a cherub standing at the gates of Paradise with a sword, so that he might sift, receive, or ward off those who came in accordance with their knowledge of the password or their profession of the true faith. Both Orders attained immeasurable significance. In the cities they were a social force making for distributive justice. In the universities they wrestled either in company or against each other over the fundamental problems of thought; and by reason of their readiness to give batde they kept living intellectual effort astir in the Church. To the Papacy they offered soldiers light of foot for the decisive struggle with the Empire and for the bloody surgical opera- tion of the Inquisition, which it was believed would heal the sores of the social structure.

Honorius III was a mild, patient man, ill designed to keep the Hohenstaufen monarch in check. In spite of the promise he had given to Innocent, Frederic in 1220 secured for his son Henry VII the German kingly crown in addition to the Sicilian crown. Then he himself received the Imperial crown from the Pope in the self-same year, because in view of the heavy losses that had been suffered at Cairo, Honorius hoped to persuade Frederic to fulfil at last his vow to lead a Crusade. The Papal States were at the mercy of the Empire; and nevertheless the Emperor, who did not wish to undermine the Papacy as such, looked upon those states as a barrier between the two parts of his realm. A new batde of giants over Imperial Italy was unavoidable; and the spiritual background which that struggle revealed rendered it quite different from all earlier contests between the same powers. The Emperor now desired to fashion his kingdom after the model of the Pope's kingdom, as an autonomous universal state. He realized that he was a changer of eras, an immutator tern- forum, and was not frightened (indeed he regarded it a title to fame) when his opponents recognized in him the "anti-Christ" and said as much. His ultimate purpose was not merely to establish world do- minion in the half naive, heroic sense of Barbarossa, but also to create an Empire wholly secular in character. As a politician who com- bined state and cultural objectives, he anticipated what a later time sought to describe with the meaningless phrase "religion of the here and now." The autocratic God of die Old Testament whom he ven-


crated and ordered his political scholars to venerate, his Messianic char- acterization of himself as the Anointed of the Lord, as well as other Biblical masks behind which he hid these things revealed more than they concealed. His game became entirely obvious when he sought to supplant the mythological attitude toward the devotional practice of Christendom with a popular religion of the goddess For- tuna. The super-prince "who as a ruler is bound by no law," put himself in the place of Christ, whom he considered as being, in com- pany with Moses and Mohammed, one of the greatest defrauders of mankind! He denied having said this, but his deeds were everything else but a denial* A new wind blew out of Bagdad and Cordova, and filled the German son of a Semitic and Islamic culture, so sensitive to the perfumes it bore, with ideals by reason of which he would be proclaimed the ideal German by later Nordic generations.

In order not to lose the good will of Christendom, the Emperor signed the Treaty of San Germano (122,5) * n which he promised that if he did not go on a Crusade he would submit to the imposition of the ban. Two years later he went to sea, but was forced by a fever to return to port. Gregory IX (1227-1241) was a blunt* irascible old man. He mistrusted the Emperor and imposed the ban on him. When Frederic replied to the "anti-Christ Pope" with insults, he im- posed it a second time and placed the interdict upon whatever place harboured him. The Emperor instigated a Roman rebellion, which forced the Pope to flee. The Hohenstaufen armies occupied the Papal States. The banned Emperor then took up the Cross, and won a victory over his Islamic foe. When he returned, he defeated Gregory's troops which had invaded Apulia with Lombard allies, and drove them from the land. In 1230 the Pope concluded peace with him and freed him from the ban.

After some years of comparative calm, the storm broke out anew. Frederic's battles and victories in Lombardy; his constitutional and administrative reforms, which sought to make Qesaristic seignories out of the autonomous communes, and the threat which such successes constituted to the Papal States: all these compelled the Pope to form an alliance with Lombardy in 1239. If Italy was to be unified under one or the other master the one who lost would be forced to occupy the position of servitor. Frederic saw no way out excepting to do-


stroy the temporal power o the Pope. This seemed to him impera- tive also by reason of the development in Germany. True enough, he suppressed the revolt of his son Henry. But die growing partic- ularism of the territorial princes, their opposition to the municipal bourgeoisie which the Emperor had sought all too late to aid, and the estrangement of the episcopacy over which the Curia had gained the upper hand in so far as it had not joined forces with the princes, undermined the medieval Imperial idea in the north while it was being automatically hollowed out in the south by the antique character of Frederic's own idea of the state. The victor over Milan warmed himself in the light of an already sinking sun. There was not room enough, he said, to bury the enemies he had conquered. He bestowed upon himself the aura of a just judge of heretics, and in his letters vented all his spleen upon the Pope and the car-dinals. Gregory, long since irritated by the fact that the Papal fief of Sardinia had been bestowed on Enzio, one of Frederic's bastard sons, renewed the ban over the "beast, the so-called Emperor," and declared him deposed. There followed a ghastly literary row between the Guelphs and the Ghibellines. Finally, after Frederic had conquered the Papal States, the issue was fought out with arms. Gregory induced the Venetians to attack Apulia, but the Hohenstaufen gained the victory. He made the Pope a prisoner and ordered crosses cut on his breast and on his brow. The tonsures of the Papal priests were similarly adorned with crosses. The Pope, now threatened in his own city, which Fred- eric hoped to declare the metropolitan See of his Sicilian State, also made no headway in his efforts to find a German anti-king. Then he summoned a General Council to Rome. The Emperor himself had previously suggested this as a way out, but now he ordered Enzio to seize a hundred prelates who came on Genoese ships, drag them to Naples, and subject them to the torture of imprisonment. When Frederic himself stood before Rome with his army, the Pope died, in 1241.

Celestinc IV, a sick man, succeeded Gregory and reigned only fif- teen days. With the aid of the Roman Senator Mattheus Rubeus, Frederic succeeded in keeping two cardinals imprisoned and so de- layed the election for twenty months. Fieschi, Count Lovagna, a Genoese, was then chosen as Pope Innocent IV (1243-1254) . This


new Pontiff was a brave and able man. As a cardinal he had been the Emperor's friend, as a Pope he was to become the Emperor's enemy. Negotiations were begun and a treaty of peace was drawn up, but when the time came to put this into force everything went wrong. The Pope was willing to release the Emperor from the ban if the Papal States were restored to him. The Emperor was willing to evacuate, but only after he had been freed from the ban. The Lombard question also remained unsettled. Frederic suggested a personal meeting, but when the Pope came to this he found that Frederic had gathered three hundred knights to lend emphasis to what he said. Innocent fled to Genoa and thence to Lyons. There he spent the next six years, and in 1245 summoned a great Council to the city. Frederic's supreme justice, Thaddeus of Suessa, defended his master. The Emperor was ordered to appear personally or to send a plenipotentiary within a given it was far too brief length of time. At the third session the curse of the ban was renewed in the cathedral and Frederic's removal from the throne was decreed. The Council declared that he had broken his oath, that he was guilty of heresy and of having scoffed at ecclesiastical punishments, that he had robbed property devoted to the service of God, that he had ex- ercised cruelty in the treatment of cardinals, that he had tortured priests inhumanly, and that he had broken his oath of loyalty to his Liege Lord. Therefore he was deprived of all honours and dignities, and his subjects were freed from the oath. The clergy threw their candles on the floor and extinguished them as a sign that the Emperor, too, was extinguished.

Frederic took up the gauntlet. A manifesto publicly revealed his determination to separate the Church from the State, to secularize Church property, and to make easier for the Church the way that led to the apostolic condition of poverty. He realized that he was the champion of the independence of every form of secular power, and warned the kings and princes that he was merely at the head of a list on which their names would eventually figure. Therein the Pope was at one mind with him. Once the dragon has been bound or destroyed, he said, then the lesser reptiles must be trodden under foot as well. In spite of the French King's attempt to bring about a re- conciliation, Innocent sent the Mendicant Orders to preach a cm-


sade against Frederic and established a rival German kingdom. But then he realized that the Hohenstaufen monarch would oppose him to the end. Many a misfortune darkened the last years of Frederic and fanned his desire for revenge, but nothing could alter his will to obtain power. Even that, however, aided him no longer. His star declined. A struggle with the Guelphs in Parma ended in his de- feat. He lived to witness the treason of his Chancellor and council- lor, Peter of Venea, who despite all that he had done to glorify the new superman, paid for his disaffection by having his eyes put out. The blind prisoner dashed his skull against the walls of a dungeon. When Enzio, his most loyal aid against the Popes and the Guelphs, was made a prisoner in Bologna, Frederic stood quite alone. He was mastering a new army when he died in the arms of his illegitimate son, Manfred, in Apulia during 1250. The friendly Archbishop of Pa- lermo gave him absolution.

Innocent returned to Italy. Frederics son and heir, Conrad IV, carried on the policy of his father with Manfred's assistance. After a few years he died and Manfred became regent for the infant boy Conradin. The Pope's attempt to gain control of his Sicilian fief ended in a severe defeat. No blessing had ever rested on a Papal war. The message of that disaster broke Innocent's heart.

The idea of force, which had borne the Papacy a long way and boded no good ending, had meanwhile also gained the upper hand in the realm of morals. Saints of the fourth century had voiced their horror at the execution of Spanish pantheists; and though Augustine had appealed to the secular arm for help against the heretics, he had insisted that these must not be put to death. Bernard of Clairvaux had still believed that the utmost which could lawfully be done against intractable heretics was to shun them absolutely. The canonists and Popes who followed these saints agreed with the temporal rulers that heresy was a crime against the Church and culture which must be rooted out of the world by force. Every form of heresy is based upon the right o man to form his religious life and thought according to the dictates of his own conscience; and this right was considered by the medieval world to mean apostasy from the order established on earth. Those desiring that all things human be arranged in a cosmos specifically their own, noted with horror the stir of chaos in the spirit-


ual roots from which that cosmos arose. Principtis obsta! Not evil deeds merely but false, erroneous ideas also, must be punished. It was not merely the public heretic who must be punished: the con- cealed unorthodox must be ferreted out and turned over to the courts; and those who persisted in their errors must be handed over to the secular arm to be exterminated.

Lucius III, Innocent III, and Gregory IX, the friend of that Saint who bought lambs to save them from slaughter and who reverenced every drop of water as being an image of the divine purity, step by step became the instigators of the Inquisition. Innocent IV broad- ened ks scope and perfected it with the fateful introduction of the torture. More brutal by far than any persecution of Christians under the Roman Empire, the Inquisition became the scandal of the Papacy and of its spiritual and temporal aids. It is true that few great men were among the victims; and it is also correct to see in the spiritual self-defense of society a great good, and in the test of martyrdom a proof of permanently significant ideas. Yet what evil does not con- tain a good when it is viewed from a distance? Measured by the mission of the Church and the laws of its Founder, the irreligiousness of the Inquisition lies in human failure to rely confidently in the spirit which He, the Proclaimer of the Eight Beatitudes, had be- queathed to His foundation when He promised that He would be with it all days. There is not an iota of His law which affords an excuse for the barbarities of five long centuries, however true it may be that principles and acts of violence sponsored by the Reformers, such as the burning of Servetus by order of Calvin, were equally deplorable.

The Papacy and the Empire alike were striving for the fullness of power, and each was the boundary beyond which the other could not go. The war in which they destroyed each other proved the matrix of new situations in Western Europe. The two powers verified the ancient truth of Greek thought, that one who strives toward great ends must also suffer greatly. The Hohenstaufens approached the close of their reign; and the forces which the Papacy set in motion against them were in turn to prove baneful to the Popes,

During the great German interregnum (1245-1273) every count


and prince, every captain and robber baron, could become a king in his own right; and the splendour of the German throne dwindled also in the south. Alexander IV proved a weak Pope, and Manfred ignored the claims of Conradin by proclaiming himself King of Sicily in 1258. But Urban IV (1261-1264), a French Pope, made use of his power as Liege Lord to induce Charles of Anjou, the brother of his saintly king, to accept the crown which Innocent IV had already offered him. The Pope who then conferred Milan upon Charles and crowned him king, was Clement IV, also a Frenchman, who had formerly been Louis DCs minister, and had taken orders after the death of his wife. Though his reign was short, he lived to see the death of the last scion of the house of the Hohenstaufens. Manfred was slain in the battle of Benevent, 1266. Summoned by the Ghibel- lines of Italy, Conradin, who was still hardly more than a boy, hurried from his Bavarian realm to drive off him who had stolen his heritage. When he drew near Rome, the Pope, who himself dared not come near his city, stood on the walls of Viterbo and predicted the defeat of Conradin. The Romans received the Suabian ruler with enthusiasm. He lost a battle against Charles, was captured as he fled, and was beheaded in the market place of Naples in 1268. His executioner, heir to the Hohenstaufen power in Italy, now revealed his true coun- tenance to the Popes, The See of Peter became the booty of the French, and the Pope was their vassal. Italy was hardly more than the spoils over which alien princes quarrelled, and for centuries after- ward it remained in a state of upheaval brought about by inner divi- sions and the ceaseless depredations of other countries. Clement IV substituted a Gallic yoke for the burden the Germans had laid upon the Papacy.

Soon the Anjou monarch was taking a hand in the affairs of the Church in his realm, and gaining for himself a strong following in the College of Cardinals, The camps in this College were so deeply opposed that after Clement's death three years passed before Greg- ory X (12711276) could be elected. This Pope was a scion of the Visconri family, with whose blessings and recommendations Marco Polo had journeyed to Eastern Asia. Soon he had tired of his French protector; and in 1273, when the Germans met to elect an Emperor, he insisted on the choice of Rudolph of Habsburg, despite the fact that


Charles had openly voiced the wish that his nephew be given the Imperial crown. Yet it was France, the ancient magnet o the Pa- pacy, which welcomed the great Council which Gregory summoned to Lyons in 1274. This assembly discussed among other things how peace and reunion might be affected with the Church of the East, where the Imperial power was once more in the hands of the Greeks, who desired Western allies in the face of Charles' threatened attack. Many burning questions were answered in a spirit of harmony and the Greek legates even recognized the Primacy of the Roman See. But though from a political point of view all this was excellent, those who participated in the Council did not devote their whole energies to the task. Solemn decisions were unable to enkindle a love for Rome in the people and the clergy of the East. The peace was there- fore soon broken.

In order to prevent the scandal of long interregna in the future, the Council introduced the Conclave for Papal elections. The Cardinals were to live in a common dwelling, to be shut off from all personal contact with the outer world, and to be fed on a progressively more meagre diet as the sessions went on so that they might reach a decision more rapidly. This rule had a good effect after the death of Gregory, but it soon met with violent opposition from the College.

After the short pontificates of the years 1276 and 1277, the elections once more seemed never to reach an end. But against the will of Charles of Anjou and his faction, an energetic Roman of the house of Orsini was chosen as Nicholas III (12771280). His hope was to balance the power of the Habsburgs against that of the Anjou rulers. He succeeded in inducing Charles to surrender the dignity of Roman Senator and Imperial administrator of Tuscany. Rudolph, who was easy to handle, concluded a lasting peace with the Pope and conferred on him all Imperial rights inside the boundaries of the Papal States. In addition, Nicholas succeeded in conciliating many factions, and called back the exiled Ghibellincs. But if one reads the nineteenth canto of Dante's Inferno one finds that this peace-loving Pope, uttering self-accusations and restlessly paying the penalty of his sins, finds no peace. Dante says that this "true son of the Bear" was greedy ID improve the fortunes of the "little Bears" (Orsini), and therefore gave his family the money for which he was atoning in hell. Villani,


the Florentine historian, is also ruthless in his description of the Pope. According to him, Nicholas, full of zeal for his own kindred, carried out many exploits to secure affluence for them. He adds that Nicho- las was the first Pope at whose court simony was openly practiced in behalf of relatives who were showered with land, gold and castles.

Another French Pope, Martin IV (1281-1285), followed the Roman. So scrupulously did he avoid the vice of his predecessor that when his brother came from France to visit him he hastily sent him back home with a small present of money. The Pope declared that whatever he possessed belonged not to him but to the Church; yet he was the creature of Charles and remained an instrument in his hands. He could not muster up courage to listen as a free sovereign to the complaints of the Sicilians, or to take up their cause as a just Pope. There followed the terrible judgment of the year 1282. The Sicilian Vespers, which broke out in Palermo on Easter Monday, ended the Island's woes. Peter of Aragon, Manfred's son-in-law, whom Con- radin had named in his testament Master of Apulia and Sicily, ac- cepted a call for help which had long since come from the Sicilian Ghibellines, and received the crown in Palermo. Charles could no longer be saved by anything that Roman friends could do for him. In spite of French and Papal intrigues against Aragon, he and his followers had to content themselves with the Papal fief of Naples. Henceforth Sicily belonged to the Spanish King until the wars of the Spanish Succession.

In Rome the Colonna and Orsini began to fight for possession of the Holy See. A third power, that of the House of Anjou, also sought to acquire it. Nicholas IV was a partisan of the Colonna. When he died, the College of Cardinals went on wrangling for more than two years. Charles II of Naples recommended a man who was looked upon also by the strict Franciscans and by all friends of a religious, non-political Papacy as the long awaited Pa fa Angelica. He was not a lawyer, nor a diplomat, nor a warrior, nor a builder and Maecenas. He was a poor hermit from the Abruzzi. Peter of Maroni was persuaded to wear the tiara. Even the kings of Naples and Hungary themselves visited his wilderness resort and begged him on their knees to become Pope and thus bring peace to the Christian world. He followed them amidst tears, and allowed himself to be


crowned as Celestinc V. But he lived in Naples, and there Charles proved his master. The Saint was not able to shoulder the responsi- bilities of the Papacy. Hounded by his enemies and soon also by his friends, driven most by his own conscience, he abdicated after a few months and went back to the lonely spot from which he had come. But the Pope who followed him had reason to fear a schism. He therefore sent emissaries in pursuit of the fleeing monk, but Celesrine had already traversed the woods of Apulia and come to the Sea. There he tried to reach Dalmatia in a skiff, but a storm threw him back upon the shore and he was imprisoned in a tower by the new Pope. The quarrel about whether this unparalleled abdication was lawful or unlawful continued to excite people long after the poor Papa Angelica was dead. Dante pictures him suffering in Purgatory, be- cause he had not possessed the energy and the determination which even the holiest of men must have if he is to rule as Pope.


From the beginning of the thirteenth to the middle of the fifteenth century, political, social and spiritual dangers inundated the Papacy, which was still more imperilled when the Barque of Peter was given many a bad pilot, and compelled to witness many a scene of fighting for possession of the helm. All too seldom were the quarrellers dominated by the cry which Peter had directed to his sleeping Lord, "Help us Master, lest we perish."

The ancient order of things, which we who stand at a distance superficially term the Middle Ages, was caught in an eddy of forces. The European "nations" shook the Empire to its foundations. France demanded hegemony, brought the exiled Papacy under its control, and spread a new conception of the state among the peoples. Philosophy followed a course that led to pure secularism, and another course that led to the absolute self-sufficiency of the individual soul. Both estranged it from the Church. Apocalyptic feelings preyed on men's emotions, carrying them now to epidemics of despair concerning the world and its rulers, and now to the burning hope that an Emperor- Messiah, or a Pope like unto an angel, was to come. Monastic move- ments of uncompromising renouncement of the world joined with prophets of the absolute state in a struggle against the temporal power and rule of the Roman See. The government of the Church itself crumbled under the effort to serve both God and men.

Celestine, the hermit, had retreated from daemonic forces. Soon sorrow caused his death, thus releasing him from bondage in Castle Fumone in the Campagna. But in life and death he clung like an evil shadow to the heels of the Pope who supplanted him.

Cardinal Benedetto Gaetani, formerly a canon of Lyons cathedral, called himself Pope Boniface VIII. He received the tiara at the age of sixty; and as a sign of his claim to the fullness of all power, he gave it the new form of the dual crown. Occasionally, the chroniclers say, he exchanged his Papal vestments for the mantle of the Caesars. He was a man of giant stature and unbounded energy, and retained his full forces until death. So strong a character was naturally feated



rather than liked. He was a ruler from sole to crown; but when negotiations were in progress he remained silent and allowed his ministers to speak. No princes or ambassadors were admitted to his presence until they had announced the object and the reason of their visit. His superstitions seem to have been more developed than his faith. Like other emancipated minds of his time for instance Frederic II, who at the end had faith only in his astrologer he ques- tioned the stars, wore a ring in which he believed that his helpful spirit was present, relied on the magic influence of his amulet, and clung to the strange knife which he carried as a protection against poison. Nevertheless he threatened those who practiced magic with eternal damnation. The reputation of this Pope is based in part also on rumours of the sacrilegious and heretical manner in which he made fun of the teachings and customs of the Church, of sodomy, and of the assassination of Celestine. None of this has ever been proved; but there is at least such a wealth of references to his vicious tongue that this is indissociable from his name. Beyond all doubt is the rude, sarcastic coldness with which he expressed his contempt for mankind. All things considered, a saying which cropped up during a meeting between him and the great Franciscan poet to whom he proved fatal is most pertinent. The Pope said to him: "I saw in a dream a great bell without a hammer what does it mean?" Jacopone replied: "It means you, a man without a heart." And many shared that view, cursing the Pope's famous physician for having extended his life.

But his enemies were no better than he. Throughout the whole great drama of Boniface the destroyer and self-destroyer, he remains the towering figure, and he alone is tinged by the tragedy of a strong man following his evil star to the end. How could historians have doubted that tragedy? The past folded in like a storm about his throne; and he on the throne was a storm unto himself. The faith he placed in the Papacy was not that of the great Popes before him. His tablets were not brought from Sinai, fresh from God's own Hand. He was not Moses but Aaron. The law in his despotic hands was not the law of his own heart. His zeal for the greatness of the Papacy was merely a personal passion. He was eager to become a powerful figure, with the help of the power of the Papacy. This he did but merely made the power subservient to himself. Therewith the throne


was made a sacrifice to the ruler; but the ruler was in the end sacrificed to his throne!

The objective o this Pope was to bring to fulfilment the policy of Gregory and Innocent III. The whole earth was to be subject to the Roman Church; all princes were to hold their land in fief to the Roman See. A Christendom unified and living in peace under the dominion of the Papacy was to conquer Islam. But literally every- thing failed: the peoples had grown different, and the human mind had changed. It was in vain that Boniface backed the Valois King in Naples against the power of Aragon in Sicily. The Island King- dom remained Spanish. He tried to end the war between France and England for possession of the rich province of Flanders, since this war constantly consumed the taxes collected from Church property. Then in 1296 he issued an edict which was to bring home anew to European governments the validity of canon law. Unless the Pope gave his assent, priests were forbidden to pay taxes to laymen or make gifts to them under penalty of the ban; and under the same penalty princes and officials were forbidden either to collect or to receive such moneys. The bull began "CUricis laicos" and averred chat all history proved that the layman is the mortal enemy of the priest. The truth of this doctrine of the irreconcilable opposition between Church and State, as well as the truth of the curse that lies on a State-Church which seeks to escape that necessary fruitful struggle, the Pope was to ex- perience personally. England and especially France resisted him.

France, for decades the greatest power in Europe, had not grown strong without the help of the Papacy and its moneys. Now it began to look upon itself as the natural daughter of the Imperium Romanum. The German Charlemagne lived on in imagination as a romantic hero, the protector of a kingdom animated by an imperialistic urge which had been obvious since the Crusades of St. Louis had established a definite French Mediterranean policy, and since Charles of Anjou had triumphed over the Hohenstaufens in the South. When feudal resistance at home grew weaker, and a middle class participating in the life of the state grew stronger, the universalistic ambitions of Philippe le Beau also came into conflict with the Papacy, which claimed to be heir to the Empire. Two ambitions for world dominion thus clashed. There was no lack of legal justification, in the philosophk


sense, on the side of the worldly power. At the universities the legalists, teachers of Roman law, functioned as theorists of govern- ment and masters of a public opinion favourable to an absolute and universal kingship. They set forth the political goals of the French crown in these slogans: universal world peace, a European League of Nations under French leadership as a substitute for the Imperial, uni- versal monarchy, an international court of arbitration, a grant of the patrimonium Petri to France in the form of a loan, and secularization of Church property in exchange for an annual income.

Philippe, who was in need of money as a result of the war with England, insisted that he had the right to tax the churches and monasteries of his country. He answered the Papal bull by for- bidding the export of gold and silver without the permission of the King, and by restraining the Papal collectors. Then Boniface issued new, friendly decrees which weakened his proud bull, and kept up a semblance of peace by canonizing Louis IX, Philippe's ancestor.

Meanwhile there was a ferment in the circles closest to the Pope. Two cardinals of the mighty family of Colonna were wroth with him because he had taken sides in a family quarrel over property. When they committed high treason by establishing relations with Frederic of Aragon, Boniface demanded that they surrender their castles. This they refused to do and aroused fresh antipathies in the ranks of the Pope's other enemies. The King of France and the University of Paris were invited to review the abdication of Celestine and the election of Boniface. Religious of the strict dispensation in the Franciscan Order, among them poor Jacopone, who was pious and satirical alike, were induced to take up the fight in written and oral discourse. A third Colonna stole money belonging to the Curia, which a highly favoured Papal relative had brought to Rome. Boniface got the treas- ure back, demanded that the robber be turned over to justice, and insisted furthermore that the Colonna must evacuate two of their castles as well as Palestrina, their city. The answer was a manifesto that was nailed to the Church doors of Rome. This said that Celestine had abdicated illegally, that Gaetani was not rightfully a Pope, and that the matter should be settled by a general Council meeting with the future true Pope. Boniface punished the cardinals, who had elected him and had celebrated the occasion with a banquet, with demotion


and excommunication. He declared that the accursed race of Co- lonna, together with all their possessions, were at the mercy of anyone who wished to take them, summoned all to join in a war (for which women on their deathbeds bequeathed money) , and levelled Palestrina and the Castles to the ground. Twelve of the fourteen Cardinals of the College sundered relations with the Colonna. The two guilty noblemen fled to France, where they plotted vengeance.

The Pope declared the year 1300 a year of grace for the universal Church. Vast crowds of pilgrims, among them sick riding in car- riages and old people borne on the shoulders of their children, tramped to this first "jubilee" at the graves of the Apostles. Dante saw them come. The money they donated was literally raked together in St. Peter's; and yet this popular movement, produced by piety as well as other things, took place in the light of a setting sun. During the same year Philippe's Privy-Councillor William Nogaret, the descend- ant of an Albigensian heretic who had fallen a victim to the Pope, dwelt in Rome; and together with the ambassador of the German King Albrecht, he played a trump card against the Curia a new alliance between the French and German monarchs. The object was to prevent the Pope from establishing his family as rulers of Tuscany and from securing still other advantages for his own country. If one were to credit Nogaret's private report, one should have to conclude that Boniface was deaf to all suggestions from the ambassadors, and sought only to poison the friendship of the two kings while besmirch- ing their honour. The Frenchman, whom a compatriot termed a body without a soul, returned home with pestiferous gossip concerning Boniface. But he and the Pope were to cross swords once more.

In 1301 Rome sent a legate to Paris with a request for a Crusade and a bevy of admonitions. But this legate was an imperious bishop and himself a Frenchman. He irritated the King and was taken into custody by the State Council as a traitor. Boniface demanded that he be set free, summoned the French prelates to Rome, reissued the bull Clericis laicos and finally promulgated a new bull, Ausculta fili, by which the King himself was removed from the throne. The language was sharp but not mordant enough to serve the French designs. It was burned immediately and replaced with a counterfeit bull still more gruff in diction. The King solemnly threatened his sons with


the curse and disinheritance if they should ever recognize any other overlords in France save him and God alone. A national assembly in Notre-Dame then burned the counterfeit bull after it had been read, endorsed the actions taken by the King to establish the freedom of his domain, and forbade the prelates to participate in the next Roman Council. Nevertheless half of the higher clergy went to the Eternal City; and Philippe stripped these disobedient ones of their worldly possessions and sent an embassy to forbid the "suspect" Pope to inter- fere in the affairs of France.

The Council decided to issue that classical definition of the Papal system which is known as the bull Unam Sanctam, of November 18, 1302. It was drawn up on the basis of a tract concerning ecclesiastical politics written by ^Egidius Romanus (Colonna), a disciple of St. Thomas from whose teachings he differed widely in many respects. The meaning of the bull is contained in these sentences: the spiritual power has authority to establish the worldly power, and to judge it when it is not good; and it is necessary to salvation to believe that all human creatures are subjects of the Pope. There was no new stone in this all too daring structure, the inner law of which was pure logic and the outer development of which was steel-like deduction. Au- thority, in so far as it is based at all upon eternal verities and not upon the whims of rulers or the accidents of power, presupposes the unity and inviolability of an order valid beyond the limits of time. If the Church was already the form of Christianity, and was recognized by Christianity as such, Boniface was right. This Church must either have a single head or remain a two-headed monster, reposing upon two fundaments like the Manichean world of the Albigensians.

King Philippe won over to his side the French cardinal who had delivered the Papal demands, gathered his Councillors of State in the Louvre, and directed against Boniface all the weapons which his jurists and the active Colonna at his court had long since gathered and sharpened. Nogaret made the address in which the attack was de- livered and it was a diabolic masterpiece. Taking for his text II Peter 2, 1-3, he stressed like a pulpit orator the convincing reasons for "throwing this scandalous Pope into prison." Philippe listened and declared himself in agreement. He gave the appearance of acting only according to the urgent demands of his Councillors, a practice to which


he had always clung. Moreover he wore the aura of a saviour of the Church, which Nogaret had skillfully placed about him. The Peers assembled in the summer of 1303, and heard read a dreadful catalogue of the Pope's crimes. Yet the valid principle that the Apostolic See could be judged by no one demanded that further steps be taken to lend an air of justification to the French plan. It was necessary to declare that Boniface was not the lawful Pope. Philippe could be sure that his people were animated by a strong feeling of national unity, and that there would be a favourable response in other countries.

It was in vain that Boniface cleansed himself with an oath. No- garet went to Italy, borrowed money from his King's bank, made a treaty with the Anjous of Naples who had enjoyed for two hundred years the fruits of their friendship with the Popes, and gained followers as well as troops. Meanwhile the Pope had been compelled by quar- relling factions to retire to Anagni. Here in his native city, where his powerful relatives had important possessions, he thought himself safe and prepared to impose the ban on Philippe. But his opponents were more numerous than he had realized. Cardinals, too, deserted him, among them Napoleon of the House of Orsini, the most violent antagonist of the Colonna. Perhaps this friend of the French was the real instigator of the fate which overtook Boniface. The new bull was to be proclaimed on September 8th. Once again it insisted upon the whole fullness of power given to the followers of Peter. They could rule the peoples with an iron rod, and break their kings like vessels made of clay. The anathema was hurled at Philippe; and his subjects were released from their oaths of loyalty.

But that bull was not read. At dawn on the 8th of September, Nogaret and Sciarra Colonna entered the gates of Anagni with hun- dreds of horsemen and footmen. The gates were open because the podesta was one of the conspirators. The troops joined forces with the city militia and stormed the Palace of the Gaetani, which was connected with the Cathedral. Those who could not flee were cut down or made prisoners. Nogaret and Sciarra marched across the bodies of those who had fallen and entered the Pope's room. He sat in his pontifical attire on the throne, bowed over a cross and the keys which he held in his hand. They shouted at him and demanded his surrender. Sciarra struck him in the face with his mailed fist, but


Boniface remained every inch a man. They could take his life now that he had been betrayed, but not his dignity. He was seized and placed under strict arrest. He refused food and drink for fear of being poisoned. Meanwhile citizens and mercenaries plundered the treasury, the cathedral, and the houses of his favourites. On the loth of September, a Gaetani approached from the Campagna in order to help free the Pope with the aid of other burghers of the city. Nogaret was wounded but he and Sciarra escaped. Boniface stood on the steps of the Palace, addressed the people, and forgave his enemies. A week later he proceeded to Rome under an armed guard. The Orsini with four hundred horsemen rode out to meet him, thus as- suring the safety of his person. The journey lasted three days. The people received him reverently; but once he had entered the Vatican, which residence he had substituted for the Lateran, he was soon made to understand that he was the prisoner of the Orsini. He lived still another month and had time to repent especially his ardent love for money. Then he died ex tremore cordu imagining that every- one who approached sought to make him a prisoner. The date was October n, 1303. He had ordered a magnificent funeral for himself, but this was ruined by a fearful storm which visited Rome.

One of his loyal cardinals then reigned for a little less than a year as Benedict XL He went to Perugia, city of the Guelphs, and there hurled anathemas at those who had carried out the attack upon the Pope. But the danger of a schism was so great that he was compelled to treat with consideration Philippe and the Roman enemies of the Gaetani.

There followed a long, difficult Conclave, the outcome of which was a victory for the French party in the College. A Gascon, the Arch- bishop of Bordeaux, was elected but did not go to Italy. He permitted himself to be crowned as Clement V at Lyons in die presence of his King. After frequently changing his See, he took up residence at Avignon in 1309. The city was a fief of the King of Naples. There- with began the Babylonian exile of the Papacy. This sad chapter of its history lasted seventy years. After the Papacy had failed in its effort to reconstruct the Church in Europe as a hierocratic universal state, it now carried out in close alliance with France an attack upon


the Imperial idea. The Curia set its centralism and fiscalism in their stiffest versions against the objective of the states, which was to in- corporate the Church and the clergy politically, economically and morally in their organisms. These two evils clung together, under- mining the Papacy and the Church alike, and gradually turning out to be the causes that led to the Reformation of the sixteenth century. Dante described the transition of the Curia into a dependency of France in allegorical terms. Beatrice, who here images -the spiritual power of the Church, steps from the chariot of the ecclesia triumphant and reminds the poet of the great events which have taken place in post- apostolic times. The eagle of the Holy Roman Empire fills the vehicle with its feathers (which are the donations made to the Roman See) , but at the same time there cling to all sides of the chariot the monstrous beasts of the seven capital sins. The place which Beatrice has aban- doned is taken by an unworthy Pope at whose side there stands the giant France, who by turns caresses and strikes him and finally drives the chariot off into the woods the exile of Avignon. The "ditty work" began with a "a shepherd without a law."

This was Clement V (13051314) , a valiant promoter of learning,, but a Pontiff of feeble policy. He himself was sickly and no match for the ruthless King, He had left the Papal treasure behind at Assisi and sometimes thought of going back to Rome. But his fear of the tumults in that city, as well as the will of Philippe, bound him to his more peaceful habitat above the blue Rhone. There he suc- cumbed to the "Clementine Fair" haggling over ecclesiastical posi- tions and dignities. He wasted on relatives and flatterers the money which his Christendom had given for a Crusade. He made friends among the princes instead of striving to rehabilitate the Papal finances, which had been utterly undermined by the events of Anagni. All banks refused to extend credit. At Avignon he also assented to all the moral demands of the Colonna, lifted or softened the bulls which his predecessor had directed at France, and through his cowardly "yes" and "amen" kept alive the fight which the vengeful King was making on Boniface, who now that he was dead was also to be damned as a heretic. Through this the King finally brought about the destruction of the Knights Templar, found guilty or every vice and sacrilege by a committee of the Inquisition, and so gained for himself a neat fortune.


Hundreds of Knights had already lost their lives through torture, prison and death by fire, when the General Council of Vienne, the last to be held for a hundred years, ended the tragedy of the Order in 1312. Philippe was to have his will not through a decision given by judges but thanks to a measure taken by the apostolic administration so that, as Clement said in his sermon, "Our beloved son the King of France may not be given scandal." This was not the only favour which Philippe, who personally attended the Council with an elaborate retinue, was there shown by the Pope. Though the Council restored to Boniface VIII his honour, Clement also declared the King, a man of "well-meaning zeal," free of all blame in connection with the attack at Anagni, He also forgave William Nogaret, who protested his innocence. He himself, the viceroy of Christ, had washed his hands like Pilate, and given that peace which the world alone can give. Meanwhile he remained deaf to the still modest, but gravely concerned voices which pleaded for the reform of the Church and the conversion of the Papacy. An English chronicler of the time prayed thus: "Oh, Lord Jesus, either remove the Pope or weaken the power with which he acts against his people. For whoever misuses the power entrusted to him merits that it be taken away from him."

Meanwhile Henry VIII of Luxembourg had followed the murdered Albrecht of Habsburg as King of Germany. Clement himself had been favourably disposed toward Henry from the beginning and had sponsored his candidacy in order to stave off the threatened election of Charles of Valois, brother of Philippe le Beau. It was with his con- sent that this knighdy ruler, himself half a Frenchman, came to Rome in 1312 to be jubilantly welcomed by Ghibelline Italy as its saviour from self-destruction, and to receive the Imperial crown from the hands of three cardinals. But the peace did not last long. Henry, en- couraged by his successes in upper Italy, made an alliance against the Anjou monarch, Robert of Naples, with Frederic of Sicily, an old enemy of the Curia. Then he publicly proclaimed Robert the foe of the Empire; and once again Pope and Emperor were at swords points. But death prevented a war. Henry died at Sienna in 1313 and was buried in the Campo Santo at Pisa. The next year Clement also said farewell to earth, which had been kind to him. The French King followed soon thereafter.


The idea of world empire had not died. Lamentations over the dissolution of the Imperial state were heard anew. But in gazing backward and indulging the hope that a Hohenstaufen monarch would return, men also conjured up a dream-image of a ruler who would bring peace to all the world. Dante was the creator of that image, or at least its most fiery prophet. In composing an elegy for the dead Henry he did not join one side or the other in the conflict over the decadent Imperial throne. He was neither Guelph nor Ghibelline. The object of his desire was the humanization of mankind. Trust- ing in the divine gift of reason, he summoned all mankind to under- take the building up of a hwm&na civilitas in which what is potentially best in human nature or can proceed from it, would be realized. The popular republics might rule themselves; but above them there must stand one who was love for justice incarnate, and who represented the world monarchy which the national states join after having banded themselves together. This "one" was to be the Emperor, Dante's Emperor. He was not Caesar, not a despot, not a lord holding others in fief. He would not ask for power; what he would seek was justice the divinely constituted order (divina voluntas if sum jus} . He would have the power to bind and to loose in an earthly sense; but as the administrator of justice, of the divine will, the Emperor's task would also be as essential and as lofty in character as that of the Pope. They are given equal authority, which each of them exercises in his sphere with unimpeachable righteousness. They are mutually subject to each other, in so far as the realm of the temporal and of the spiritual interweave; and they must work in unison to create the humanity eternally intended by God. For this reason there must be established a clearly defined dual order based on the divine will. For while the Christian Cross is the sign of salvation, the eagle which ^Eneas once brought to Rome has also its own part in the continuous work of redemption. Mankind, which is a pilgrim along the road to salvation, needs the two-fold leadership of Church and Empire. Our common goal and our common moral imperative are manifested in the one; and the other has been ordained to remove the obstacles which lie in the way. The power of the eagle is not given the state merely as a state according to the natural order that rises out of natural law, but rather to the state as an entity transformed by Christianity. This state is


conscious of its dependency upon the Cross; and only in relationship to that cross are its significance and value perfected. Nevertheless the divinely ordained relationship between the two powers permits no confusion of the spheres and no encroachment on the one by the other. In natural law and earthly history the state has priority; but in the history of salvation, and inside the order of grace which is the sub- stratum of redemption, the Church has the primacy. May the sword remain the sword and the pastoral staff the pastoral staff. Peter hint- self arises and passes judgment on a worldly Papacy, enmeshed in politics. His blood and the blood of many of his followers did not flow for the sake of a rich church. His keys are no battle flags, no seals placed on letters conferring freedom at a price. Christianity must not be sundered into clergy and laity; the Bible must not be forgotten while one reads the decretals until the margins are worn, Dante's sketch was born out of the dire need of the Christian element in history, and yet history gave him as little attention as it has paid to every political philosopher who has argued for a peaceful division of the authority bestowed upon the two powers.

Joachim of Fiore, his followers, and a spiritualistic Franciscanism had found a voice in Dante's Monarchia and Commedia. A short three years after the poet's death the Defensor Pacis, written (1324) by Marcilius of Padua and John of Jandun, doctors of the University of Paris, drew a picture of a secular prince who is God's viceroy and sits as sovereign ruler over Pope and Church. This revolutionary book was directed against the Papacy as a disturber of the peace. It de- clared that the teaching concerning the fullness of power had proved the ruin of the Church, which as a community of the faithful is of godlike character. Her sovereign is Christ alone; she should be with- out possessions, serving the spirit only. The bearer of ecclesiastical authority is not the Pope but the Christian community, and the high- est instance of the Church is the general Council summoned only to decide matters of faith. In the Council intelligent laymen who know the Bible are also to have a seat and a voice. Thus in the Church also all legislation finally rests with the people. Priests open the way to God by preaching and administering the Sacraments. All have the same power, and none of them, the Pope included, is authorized to interfere in secular matters. His primacy rests only upon legal


grounds not above suspicion, since the sojourn of Peter in Rome can- not be proved from the Bible, which also does not establish his priority over the other Apostles excepting perhaps in age. The Bishop of Rome is not entitled to call himself Peter's successor or to consider himself superior to any other bishop. Only the Bible merits uncon- ditional belief; and no other writings, least of all decrees of the Pope, are to be similarly trusted. The right to use force does not belong to the Holy See, but to the prince who as the highest lawgiver also summons die Council. And yet this prince in turn merely acts in behalf of the citizenry. He is responsible to the people, which is the sovereign bearer of all civil rights. Laicistic, naturalistic and revolu- tionary to the core, these writers who before Machiavelli's time were subder than Machiavelli, regarded the "sect" of Christianity as the most estimable of religious factions, and assigned it to the place they adjudged befitting inside the political order they conjured up out of purely secularist thinking. The first and ultimate objective of this vi& moderna was therefore necessarily a maiming blow at the Papacy. The contemporary philosophy of the Averroists, the scepticism of other schools, and the opposition of those who sponsored an ideal of poverty (a vigorous movement fed from deep religious springs) to the Curia, threatened the Papacy from within the world of Christ and that of anti-Christ alike.

John XXII (1316-1334) received the tiara as an old man of seventy- two years, after a long drawn-out battle between the French and the Italian cardinals. Like all Popes of the period of exile he was a Frenchman. Born the son of a cobbler, he grew up to be an educator and the chancellor of Robert of Naples. Later he became Archbishop of Avignon and Cardinal; and his always imperious will had grown hard as steel. He was astonishingly energetic, learned, of modest personal habits, open-minded toward the intellectual problems and social needs of the time, and adroit in the defense of die rights and powers of his office. Later times would both admire and denounce him as a great financial genius. Dante said maliciously that he honoured not Peter and Paul, but the image of John the Baptist on the guilders of Florence. A shrewd calculator, he made use of a system of taxation which included a great number of questionable sources of money from episcopal consecrations, newly established prelacies and


abbeys, and Papal claims on a number of appointments, dispensations and dutiable pleas which could be artificially dragged out, and so raised receipts of the Curia to an annual average of nearly 230,000 guilders in gold. The Camera Apostolica took in money as it never had before, and in a short time was equipped to bear the enormous burdens in- cident to the wars which broke out under this and subsequent pontifi- cates.

The princes and states whose friendship John needed in order to restore complete dominion of the Papacy in Italy also received their goodly share of this store of red gold. This restoration was the major goal of his policy. It was for its sake that he persevered in his fiscal policy and his struggle with the Empire. Ludwig the Bavarian and Frederic of Austria battled for the throne, and the House of Wittels- bach gained a victory: it was, so insisted Avignon, to recognize the Papal right to administration of the Empire in Italy, custodian of which at the rime was Robert of Naples. The Bavarian prince, who had already sent his German Imperial vicar to Italy, took no heed of the Pope's declaration that a king must first have Papal endorsement; and spurning a sharp demand that he lay down his Imperial office, he himself marched southward and supported the struggle which Lom- bard Ghibellines were carrying on against the sundering of Italy from the Empire. When he had drawn down upon himself the ban, Ludwig resorted to another weapon against John: the Pope himself was declared a heretic, because during a dispute with the Franciscans he had repudiated the solemn contention of the Order that Christ and his Apostles had owned no property. The political struggle was confused with theological and religious warfare; and for a decade it seemed as if the Empire and the Church were facing serious disaster. John XXII defended his omnipotence more doggedly than ever a Pope before him; and round the banned and wavering Emperor, there gathered disciples of the Saint of Assist and of Marcilius of Padua. Yes, worlds otherwise irreconcilable found themselves in unison in men like the English Ockham, the philosopher and theologian who wore the habit of Francis, and yet taught a most uncompromising brand of Gesaro-Papism. Doubtless Ockham could form an idea of a Church without a Papacy. John spared none. During the years 13271328, when he also repudiated some sentences of Master Eck-


hardt, he condemned the Defensor Pads and excommunicated Ock- ham. But the ideas harboured by these daring souls were soon to stir in all the nations. They indicated the rise of a new trend in human thought, and retained their vigour long after those who had first con- ceived them were dead.

Ludwig himself was frightened by the teachings of Marcilius, but during 1328 he did not hesitate to receive the Imperial crown from the hand of the city's ruler, Sciarra Colonna, in Rome and "in the name of the Roman people." Marcilius, appointed spiritual vicar of the city, could hardly boast that the people and their ruler already bore his ideal world in their hearts. The things that happened in Rome in no way mirrored the spirit of the Defensor Pacts. Faith in the Church was still deep and strong enough even to feed with its sap the young humanism which had begun to appear. Nor had the end of the Papacy come when the Emperor was induced to proclaim to a popular assembly gathered in St. Peter's Square that the "priest Jacob of Cahors, who calls himself John XXII" had been deposed. Soon thereafter a miserable creature made himself anti-Pope. The rejoicing was of short duration. Ludwig was quite destitute; and without having firmly established his sovereignty in Italy, he left Rome which with farcical pranks dishonoured him and his Pope and all Roman Germans, even the dead. In Pisa, too, the joke was on him when he ordered that the figure of Pope John should be burned in effigy before the eyes of the indignant people; for it was in this city that the anti- Pope was seized in 1330 and dragged off to Avignon. Dressed in his habit (he was a Friar Minor) with a rope tied around his neck, Lud- wig then threw himself at John's feet and wept. The Pope helped him to rise, removed the rope, cast his arms about him as a sign of forgive- ness, and kept him under very mild arrest until the end of his days. John could not, however, make a peace with Ludwig, who was bidden to abdicate because France desired the breakup of Germany, and Avignon wanted a Papal Italy. Princes and people still clung to their Emperor and he had a Franciscan following which strengthened his resistance to his opponents on the Rhone. Ockham and his disciples lived to witness with pleasure that the Pope defended in a sermon the dogmatically objectionable teaching that the just dead enjoy the fullness of beatific vision only after the last judgment. When John


lay dying at the age of ninety and was no longer able to speak, the cardinals induced him to sign a written disavowal of that sermon.

During the next forty years of the exile, the French Papacy con- tinued to cling to its traditional policy. It had few friends either in the Church or among the rulers of states. In Germany, where the dreadful weight of the interdict lay like lead on all the living, the pious substituted a mystical religion of the soul for the empty houses of worship. France and the Pope were identified. The tension be- tween Rome and Avignon grew deeper and gave rise to a political and cultural antagonism between Italy and France. In England the old trend towards a state Church waxed stronger particularly after the last of the Capets died (1328) , and the hundred years of war with the Valois monarchs embittered people towards the country that was serv- ing as Papal host. In addition the Curia carried out an uncompromis- ing administrational measure by which the indigenous Church was potted with an alien clergy. France itself was losing the grip on power and compelled the Pope to share its fate.

Benedict XII (13341342), a jovial, hard-drinking Cistercian of plebeian ancestry, was vastly more than "the helmsman of the bark o Peter, put asleep by wine,*' whom Petrarch described in his satirical letters. The Romans invited him to return, but he was kept in France because the King feared the loss of Papal influence. Then he began to build the great palace in Avignon which, with its spare and forbid- ding walls, even today frowns on the loveliness of the surrounding landscape. He honestly strove to reach a settlement with Ludwig of Bavaria, but Philippe VI threatened that if the reconciliation were effected he would resort to a second Anagni. The German Imperial princes gave the title of German Emperor a new resonance when they formed an association of electors at Rense, and at the same time mani- fested increased hostility to Avignon. The King and Emperor (they said) was he who had been chosen by the Prince-Electors, even though the Pope might not confirm their choice. To the Papacy there was reserved only the right to crown the Emperor. All negotiations ulti- mately proved bootless when Ludwig, who knew no bounds in his attempts to strengthen his dynasty and who could appeal for support to Ockham and his conception of the state, proceeded on his own -


thority to annul the marriage of Duchess Margareta Maultasch and marry her to his son. The chaotic situation lasted until the German Prince-Electors, dissatisfied with their Emperor, themselves granted the urgent request of the new Pope Clement VI and brought about a sudden change. They sundered themselves from Ludwig, who was now an ally of England, and once again the object of the ban to which terrible curses were appended; and they hoped to realize Ger- many's profound desire for peace by electing Charles of Luxembourg, King of Bohemia, who had been recommended by his friend the Pope. Him they elected German King, and soon thereafter Ludwig died. During the long reign of the shrewd, carefully calculating Rex Cleri- corttm (13461378), the Avignon Popes played their part to the end. Clement VI (1342-1352) cannot be regarded by an objective his- torian as any better than Petrarch's description implies, though Petrarch was a satirist of his times. The poet had come to Avignon from Florence as a boy with his family, had seen a good deal of the world as a student and a traveller, and had built for himself in quiet Vaucluse, close to the Papal palace, a refuge from a world which he hated and loved, idealized and despised with equal ardour. Crowned with the poet's wreath in Rome, he returned to the city of his Laura in 1342, Petrarch lived from 1304 to 1374, so that he was almost exactly con- temporaneous with the Avignon exile. As he observed the conduct of the Popes, he conceived the idea for his acrid and venomous Letters without a Name. Clement VI, whom he himself served in a politi- cal capacity, is the villain of the piece. This cynical man of the world, who has chosen the epicurean art of living rather than the Church for his bride, is seen rejoicing in the fact that he need not live in the "vulgar hut" of the Roman Lateran. Stretched out com- fortably in his gorgeous apartment, he looks about at his herd. He rides to the hunt, followed by a proud retinue, beside his beloved niece, Cecilia Semitamis who dominates the whole palace with her charms. A future Pope, if he should let the mask fall (says Petrarch) would ship the whole Curia to Bagdad: not seven Gregorys could make good the damage done to the Church by two Clements, the V and the VL The laments of other contemporaries establish the validity of Petrarch's satire. St. Brigitta, the mystic and reformatricc of Sweden, who took up residence in Rome as the widowed mother of


many children and there exhorted the princes, denounced the Popes and clamoured for an end of the exile, herself told Clement that he was an amator carnis, a lover of the flesh.

It is nevertheless true that a man of firmer character than this gallant Pontiff could not have risked going back to Rome. Devotees of armed might were everywhere busy carving little kingdoms out of the Papal provinces; and Rome itself presented an unparallelled pageant of an- archy. After the nobles had been defeated, the romantic spirit of Cola di Rienzi strutted about for a while, dressed in shreds of die past splendour of Rome and the Empire. This tribune of the people had delighted the Pope in Avignon and had won the friendship of Petrarch. But after his fall, Charles IV, to whose court in Prague he had fled, turned him over to the Pope as a heretic. The Avignon which he now beheld anew had meanwhile been purchased by Queen Joanna of Naples and made the property of the Roman See. This it remained until the French Revolution.

The Black Plague was now abroad. The Pope lived behind his thick walls as if in quarantine and received no one. A third of the population of Europe was buried in common graves, and those who survived trembled before the Lord God. New processions of Flagel- lantes, scourging their naked backs as they sang the Kyrie Eleison, moved through the land. A wave of religious enthusiasm brought hosts of pilgrims to Rome for the jubilee of 1350. Some of the laughter that was heard was the laughter of despair. In Avignon there was circulated in 1351 a "Letter of Lucifer to the Pope, His Viceroy on Earth." In it die Prince of Darkness thanks the Sovereign Pontiff, his cardinals and his prelates, for all the aid given him in his struggle against Christ. Victory was no longer remote. He sent greetings to them all, in the name also of their mother, Pride, and of all her sister Vices. A novella in Boccaccio's Decameron breathes the same spirit. Thus turbulent disgrundement of the era of the plague arose from hearts as devoted to the Church as that of Petrarch hearts that agreed with Dante, Rienzi, and all the humanists, that the Papal exile was a desecration of the Papacy and Italy alike. In their opposition to France and Avignon, they were abetted by more serious minds who, desiring cultural autonomy, strove to bring about a na- tional renaissance against all barbarians, including the French. In



Boccaccio's tale, the Christian merchant Gianotto convinces his fpend Abraham, the Jew of Paris, of the truth of Christianity. Against Gianotto's will and counsel the Jew decided to study his new faith in the city where the Curia is established. Gianotto now believes that all is lost. But Abraham returns resolved to enter the Church. He declares (and this is at once the comfort and the insight of this whole , period) to his pleasantly surprised friend: the Pope and his associates seek to blot out Christianity from the world and the hearts of men; and the fact that it nevertheless exists and flourishes proves that it must be of God.

Clement died soon thereafter of terror caused by the Lucifer letter. During his last years he had appeared in a much better light, as the giver of aid to victims of the pest, the author of measures taken to curb the madness of the Flagellantes, and the centre of resistance to a persecution of the Jews, who were believed to have brought on the plague by poisoning the wells and bewitching the atmosphere. He was followed by a simple, earnest man who took the name of Innocent VI (13521362). He curbed the maladministration of the Curia, which had now become wholly French, released Rienzi from imprison- ment, brought about a peace between France and England, and re- mained on fairly good terms with the Emperor, who received the Imperial crown when he came to Rome, though no popular enthusiasm embellished the ceremony. Charles issued a Golden Bull in 1355, which, without referring to the hody debated rights of the Pope, de- clared the Electoral-Princes sole possessors of the right to vote, and in exchange for cash gave the Italian cities freedom and the Italian princes their independence. The fact that he abandoned the right to mingle in Italian affairs meant that the German Empire was bounded on die south by the Alps. Once again Cola di Rienzi awakened the national yearning of his native city, to which he had gone after the Pope had set him free. Innocent had hoped to subdue the city by means of this tribune, but instead the man ruled so tyrannically that the people rose and slew him.

The unfortunate Rienzi had left Avignon on a Papal mission. He was to accompany the clerical general and statesman Albornoz whose task it was to reconquer the rebellious cities of the Papal States. Cardi- nal Albornoz, whom his Spanish countrymen today still regard as the


greatest political genius of their race, named Rienzi Senator of Rome as a boon to the people. Then, during the four years after 1353, he completed his task with firmness and magnanimity. He utilized the pauses between battles to write a text of common law for the Papal States; and the wisdom of this treatise was to prove its worth down to the time of Napoleon.

The "widowed" Rome uttered many a lament that the absence of the Papacy prevented the renaissance of her ardently desired ancient glory. All but a few persons looked upon the Avignon Popes as legitimate. The master of all places, said Petrarch, can live in any and every place: where the Pope is, there is Rome also. But there was great rejoicing when Urban V (1362-1370) decided to return. The Emperor himself had come to Avignon to persuade this holy, morally impeccable monk, whose labours in behalf of culture were dictated by a lofty purpose, to break the French bonds. Nevertheless the Pope, who returned with his Curia in 1367 and an escort of a fleet of sixty galleys furnished by the Italian sea powers, faced difficult times. As he landed in the harbour of Corneto, Albornoz, now a tired old man, welcomed him on his knees. Certain jealous persons suspected him of having spent money for his own profit; and when he had cleared himself by riding up to the Papal dwelling in a cart drawn by oxen and presenting to the Pope the keys of the cities and fortresses he had conquered, the great Spaniard died assured of the Pope's thanks and confidence. Undoubtedly he was the second founder of the Papal States. Soon Urban was to realize what he had lost in this man. Florence, the most powerful political entity in Italy, fomented a rebel- lion among the citizens of die Papal States against the rule of alien French officials. Naples and the Visconti of Milan profited. Robber bands were the real masters as the gentle Pope, a lonely stranger, waited in Viterbo until the Eternal City had grown sufficiently calm to permit his entry.

What destruction and what misery there were in long abandoned Rome! Grass grew in the streets and on it the sheep pastured. They even found green forage in St. Peter's, and between the broken pave- ment stones of the Lateran. The yellow Tiber flowed over the ruins of fallen bridges; basilicas lay covered with dust and dirt; and the Vatican Palace stared emptily at the signs of decadence everywhere



about, and at a wilderness of abandoned gardens. Charles IV also came to Rome so that his wife could be crowned, but the Empire headed by this merchant had squeezed too much money out of the land to make possible the thought of giving aid to the Pope. The attacks on Urban's wealth and temporal power continued, and the unfortunate stranger was once more driven back to the Rhone. Dur- ing the same year he died with the cross upon his breast, shaken with remorse over the fact that he had gone back to Avignon. Thus was fulfilled the prophecy of St. Brigitta, who had urged him to remain. It was not until the election of Gregory XI (1370-1378) , a French Pope, that the Apostolic See could once again be erected beside the graves of the Apostles and remain there. He saw that everything was lost if he stayed in Avignon any longer. The most difficult struggle he had to face was with Florence, for this ancient Guelph Republic raised the banner of the Italian national spirit against the French leadership of the Church and against the rule of strangers within its own boundaries. It assumed the leadership of a league of cities formed to combat all tyrants. Gregory imposed the gravest ecclesiastical penalties on Florence and at last sent an army against the urban league. Robert of Geneva, Cardinal and handsome soldier, took command of his Breton mercenaries, and heaped cruelty on cruelty. As a result of the blood-bath with which he avenged a desperate rebellion of the citizens of Cesana, there was lifted no praise in honour of the returning viceroy of Jesus Christ.

In older to bring about peace with Florence, Catherine Benincasa o Siena, daughter of a dyer, had summoned up all the fervour and power of her ecstatic souL Like Joan d'Arc, this Saint unfolded a political activity based on mystical impulses. She was a master of both effective speech and a powerful epistolary style, and exercised a profound influence upon the life of her time. Though she could not induce Florence to make peace, she did rouse the conscience of the Pope in the palace of Avignon. Toward the close of 1376 he left and landed in Ostia, sighing over the bleak impression made upon him by the shores to which he had come. That evening the Romans appeared in large numbers, gave him dominion over their city, and paid homage to him with torch dances and the blare of trumpets. A galley brought him up the Tiber to St. Paul's. Here he cast anchor and spent the


night, which had already fallen while he was still aboard ship. Catherine had counselled him in vain to enter the city with no ap- purtenances of war, carrying only the crucifix and singing psalms. Two thousand troops of Robert's army accompanied the festive entry into the city on the next day, and the Pope rode on a white palfrey. The houses were festooned with tapestries and a shower of flowers descended from the roofs. St. Peter's cathedral, which had seen no Pope during two generations, received the procession in the light of 18,000 lamps.

Gregory lived out another restless year lamenting his return. As he was dying a sombre message was brought to him from England. This country, which a decade before (1366) had seen the parliament of Edward III terminate its status as a fief of the Holy See, now wit- nessed a strong movement against Rome as the result of Wyclif s teachings. This Oxford theologian at first upheld the ideal of a poor Church; but then he went farther and recommended a secularized state church which was to combat monasticism, accept the Bible as the sole authority of the faithful, and attack the Papacy on the ground that Christ alone was the true Pope. Gregory anathematized eighteen of Wyclif s earlier theses and imposed the ban on him. Sensing the coming of a schism and bearing no love for the men and women who had urged him to return to Rome they had, he thought, confused their own erratic fantasies with Divine revelation he died in 1378, the last French Pope.

The schism proved a reality. It began in the year when Charles IV, the self-same Emperor who had prepared the way for a firmer bond between the German crown and the Papacy, died. The weak- ness of the Empire under the succeeding kings Wenceslaus and Rupprecht, the persistent efforts of France to dominate the Curia, the English struggle over a national church, the internecine strife of the Italian republics, the dissolution of the Papal States into small prin- cipalities, and a hundred years of destructive warfare between the Provencal, Hungarian and Southern Italian Anjous for the kingdom of Naples all this helped during a whole generation to unsettle the nations likewise unable to decide who was the lawfully elected Pope, The question of obediences made this schism a temptation for European Christianity to split up into French, Italian, Spanish, German and


English Churches. A chronicler of the fortunes of Peter's See might weU despair as he went over this troubled segment of time upon which no ray of light falls from above.

A stormy conclave which a mob of Francophobes invaded in order to insist upon a Roman or at least an Italian Pope, led hastily to the choice of a Cakbrian, Urban VI (1378-1389) . This turbulent Pon- tiff repudiated every custom and practice that had originated in Avignon. Some cardinals left Rome; others declared the election illegal, and with the help of France and Naples elected Robert of Geneva, little more than a purple clad bandit-general, as Clement VII (1378-1394). He was driven out of San Angelo by the Romans, escaped to Naples where he also found no followers, and then took a ship for Avignon. He appointed sufficient cardinals in addition to the six who had remained there to constitute a full College; and the King aided this newly constructed Curia with every means at his disposal. The Popes exchanged bans again and again, until the whole of Christianity was excommunicated from the Church. Peo- ples and princes were divided in obedience. Germany, Scandinavia and England joined with Italy in recognizing Urban VI, while Naples, Savoy, Scotland and later on also Spain and France recognized Clement VII. On both sides murders were committed. Monasteries and churches fell into ruin, the learned and the unlearned were locked in argument, and the Orders were of such divided minds that though Catherine of Siena and Vincent Ferrer, powerful preacher of penance and missionary to the Jews, both wore the same Dominican habit they supported different Popes. She took up the cause of Urban, and he urged the rights of Clement.

It was little wonder that men like Wyclif were able to reap a goodly harvest. How could a realm divided against itself endure? Should not one leave the Devil and Beelzebub to their certain destiny? Deeper minds thought otherwise. They clung fast to the idea of a supreme moral instance and of a representation of the eternal in the body of the Church. But the life of the members was not to be saved unless the head were first saved. If other times had had to protect die Church against the Papacy, these times were perforce compelled to rescue Church and Papacy alike from the Popes. The enemies enthroned on the Tiber and the Rhone had blotted out the maxim,


older than a thousand years, that the Pope could be judged by no one. The "common sense" (sensus communis) o the Church, long since summoned to the rescue by the absolutism of the Roman See itself, now had to enter the breach. Self-help through a kind of parliamentary rule seemed to be the only way out of the chaotic state of affairs. Two German theologians, Conrad of Gelnhausen and Henry of Langenstein (the second of whom also appealed to the authority of St. Hildegard of Bingen) conferred in Paris during 1380 and developed out of ideas once sponsored by Ockham and Marcilius of Padua their theory that in rime of need the Church is empowered to summon General Councils despite the Popes, and that to the decisions of such Councils the Bishops of Rome are also subject. This suggestion was endorsed by the university and was nursed by many minds until the situation grew so desperate that recourse to it was unavoidable.

Pope Urban's policy in Naples was nothing but a series of wild adventures. When he unearthed a conspiracy against himself, he ordered the execution of five of the cardinals who had participated. The indignation aroused by this inhuman Pontiff was so great that when he died there was turbulent rejoicing. Yet the hope that the Roman College would not seek to elect a successor was doomed to disappointment. Urban was followed by the young and uneducated Boniface IX (13891404) . The schism caused him little concern but the Papal finances alarmed him since Church moneys were now paid into two Curiac and the pecuniary stability of his throne was thereby undermined. But the gold which his pedlars of indulgences brought home, whenever they did not pocket it themselves, he turned over to his relatives. Though the repute of this simonistic Pontiff was bad, the best minds of the University of Paris nevertheless urged that a new French election be postponed when Clement died in Avignon during the middle years of Boniface's pontificate. In vain had Pierre d'Ailly, Jean Charlier de Gerson, and Nicholas of Clemanges rec- ommended three roads toward peace to Clement before he died: the voluntary retirement of both Popes and a new election, or a decision by a court of arbitration selected from both camps, or a General Coun- cil. Their advice was now again in vain. Although the young king, the mentally unsettled Charles VI, had during a lucid moment him-


self endorsed their recommendations, the cardinals elected Pedro di Luna, a Spaniard, Benedict XIII (1394-1417).

With unbending determination, this Pope who loved to rule re- sisted every plea o the Crown and of the University that he make an effort to reach a settlement. He was an admirer of St. Catherine of Siena and earnestly weighed plans to reform the Church; but for the sake of these plans he betrayed the Church and his genius alike. He was a little Hildebrand on a misguided errand, France itself as well as his native kingdoms of Castile and Navarre abrogated obedience to him, and for three years held him a prisoner in Avignon. Before his election he had sworn an oath to labour for the unity of the Church, but he lived up to this solemn promise by entering into meaningless negotiations with his opponent, after whose death the recalcitrant Romans elected a Pope of their own. Soon afterward he, too, died, and then they chose the aged Venetian cardinal who became Gregory XII (1406-1415). Both Popes pledged themselves to meet on the coast of Liguria and there exchange resignations; but the plan came to naught. With truly military caution they approached each other until only a small space intervened. According to the deposition of his secretary, Gregory said that he could live only on land and there- fore could not enter the water, while Benedict stated that he could live only on water and therefore could not go on land. All hope was gone. In Rome, the Pope, who indulged his favourites, still sur- rounded himself in his old age with a prodigal court. Finally even his own cardinals abandoned him. Meanwhile the Avignon party in France confronted a difficult situation when their benefactor, the Duke of Orleans who exercised the regency, was murdered. There- upon the cardinals of this Curia also urged that an understanding be reached with Rome. The two Colleges met in common assembly at Livorno and agreed that a Council should convene in Pisa during 1409. It was high time. Following the example set by English statesmen, France too had seriously undermined the position of the Papacy by declaring (1408) that it was illegal for the Popes to make appoint- ments to benefices or to tax the clergy. Gallicanism was in the as- cendancy. In common with Anglicanism it declared that the Pope might pasture his sheep but was not to fleece them. -

On the day appointed, the Council convened in the cathedral.

THREEFOLD Though both of the Popes had been invited, neither appeared. Thereupon the Council conferred upon itself the authority it lacked, so that Gerson and d'Ailly crowned their theory with victory. The assembly deposed both Popes and chose the archbishop of Milan, who had been born in Greece, as Alexander V. He closed the Council of Pisa and postponed the reform for which the countries were clamouring until such time as another Council could convene. The rightful cardinals lent him their support and the greater part of the Church followed suit, but unity of obedience was so far from being established that matters were now worse than before. After Alexander suddenly died, the man who had dominated him and the Council completed, as John XXIII (1410–1415), what one chronicler termed "the accursed trinity of the Papacy." This unscrupulous and lucky Neapolitan was far more suited to the role of a criminal than to that of a Pope (after him no other Pontiff took the name of John) and the number of those who ardently desired a great council of reform increased.

It was to prove a boon to the Papacy that there still existed an Imperial authority which had not abandoned the idea that part of its function was to exercise a protectorate over the Church. After a three-fold Imperial schism, Sigismund became master of Germany in 1410 and could deal with the monstrous apparition of a three-fold schism in the Papacy. The hopes of the tottering Church rested on him alone. With energy and diplomacy he brought about the Council of Constance. This was a European congress of spiritual and temporal leaders, and means more in the history of the Papacy than merely an attempt to end the schism through arbitration. The Council attempted to undermine the absolutism of the Papal universal monarchy by emphasizing the democratic and national elements in the constitution of the Church. Nevertheless the monarchical system was not surmounted either during the debates of the four years during which the Council remained in session, or during the eighteen years which the Council of Basel consumed. Nevertheless the nations strengthened in the political as well as in the spiritual sense their desire for self-determination. The deepest reason for this outcome, which cannot at all be ascribed to a great Papal personality (for no such personality appeared during these two decades), must be seen CATASTROPHE

to lie from the human point of view in the dogmatic and political essence of the Catholic Church. The iron determination to govern is the result of the Church's belief in the unity and inviolability of the law which it knows itself called upon to administer as the repre- sentative of the divinely established universal monarchy proclaimed in Christian revelation.

Sigismund realized the danger that lay in an aggressive Ottoman Empire, and was in addition confronted with religious and political up- heaval in Bohemia. The spirit of the Wyclifites had compelled Eng- land's parliament to legalize capital punishment as the only means of dealing with the Lollards, and it was now undermining civic order in the German eastern provinces as well. Prague, with its flourishing university, was the headquarters of these innovators. The Czech de- sire for political independence clashed with German tradition; and friends of ecclesiastical reform like Huss and Hieronymus were carried away by the fervour of their attack on a shameless traffic in indulgences and on a prelacy which had forgotten God to the point where their legitimate belief in their calling to cleanse the temple was tinged with Wyclifites ideas. They appealed from an errant Church to the Bible, from the Pope to Christ, and from the authority of existing institutions to personal conscience and conviction. In their zeal for the ideal Church they apostasized from the real Church.

The Emperor insisted upon obedience to Pope John. When he came to Italy, he then forced this Pope, who had been compelled to flee to Naples from Rome by the armies of Ladislas, to issue invitations to the Council. The choice of the German city of Constance indi- cated to John that whatever was done would be done inside the realm subject to Sigismund's authority. Therefore he sought at the same time to gain the support of Duke Frederic of Austria and John of Bur- gundy, both hostile to Sigismund. As he crossed the snow covered Arlberg and looked down upon the Bodensee, he said with a premo- nition of his destiny: "This, then, is the trap in which foxes are caught."

In Constance he was lodged in the bishop's palace. The public ses- sions were held in it and in the cathedral, and the discussions were con- cerned with the schism, with heresy and reform of the Church in all its members. They dealt also with the Bohemian question, the war


between England and France, and many other problems which con- cerned the peoples of Europe. The novel order of procedure adopted was in itself an expression of the Council theory: ballots were cast ac- cording to nations and not according to individuals. Italy with the whole College of Cardinals had only one vote, as did Germany, France and England. Huss was already living in the city, provided with an Imperial letter of conduct which did not, however, guarantee him protection against the ecclesiastical penal courts since it was only a political pass. Pope John, granted all the honours of a legitimate Sovereign Pontiff, presided over the first public session on November 16, 1414. Sigismund appeared at Christmas time and was soon also a witness of a practically universal desire to desert John. During the second general session the Pope, who himself opened the meeting with High Mass, had to read amidst great excitement a declaration whereby he was obliged to abdicate provided the other two Popes did likewise. This document was preceded by a list of grievances in the fearful mirror of which the Pope could not help seeing that his cause was hopeless. An attempt by the French delegates to transfer the Coun- cil to French territory gave him new assurance, but this was as bootless as was his desire to come to terms with the Spanish Pope through a personal meeting in Nizza. This encounter Sigismund sought to reserve for himself, and he was supported by the majority of the Coun- cil. Then with the aid of Duke Frederic the Pope managed to escape from Constance at dusk on the 2oth of March, despite all precautions taken by Sigismund. Safe in Burgundy or France he could have disregarded the vote of the Council to suspend his activities or have ordered (for he was not deposed as yet) the assembly to remove to the West. But the effort did not succeed. His sensational adventure in escape ended in a Mannheim prison, from which he was released only in 1419, after Italy had again conferred ecclesiastical honours upon him.

On the morning after the flight the Emperor himself rode through the streets with a blare of trumpets. At this time Constance was the principal city of Europe a market centre, a camp and a forum alike. Twenty thousand foreigners resided permanently within its walls. Its highly developed industrial life, the excellent conduct of which has been much praised, was in danger of sudden collapse if the con-


gregated masses fled in a panic. In all probability even the smallest money-lender or dealer in bread was seized with fright, but Sigismund announced the Pope's escape and at the same time urged all to remain, promising to protect the city. Two weeks later, on April 6th, 1415, the Council met in permanent session and reached the following con- clusion, from which only a few of its members dissented: that the Council of Constance represented the entire Church on earth, that it received its power directly from Christ, and that therefore everyone, including the Pope, was obliged to obey it. In a trial that followed John XXIII was deposed, on May 29th, as a simonist and an offender against the code of the Papacy. Broken in spirit, he had already re- ceived in Radolfszel the implacable decree from the mouth of some of his loyal followers. They could now kiss only his hands and his lips and not his foot. On the day when the verdict was announced, he ordered the Papal cross removed from his room. At the same time a goldsmith of Constance was ordered to break up his seal and coat of arms.

On July 4th, Gregory XII, then almost ninety, proclaimed through a legate that he was willing to abdicate under certain conditions. Two days later Huss was put to death at the stake. Neither the Pope nor a Papal tribunal imposed this terrible sentence. It was decreed by the Council of Reform, the spiritual prime movers of which, Gerson and d' Ailly, had themselves vied with each other in opposing the Pope and the hierarchy. This deed, from which the bloody Hussite wars took their rise, followed the example given by the English Crown, and as a seemingly up-to-date method of fighting against revolution excited the Council and the rest of the world far less than it would so many more modern dogmatists of a dogmaless freedom. A year later Muss's courageous friend Hieronymus was also burned at the stake; and the throng of humanists who spent their time in Constance and the "sur- rounding country as diplomatic officials, investigators, and antiquar- ians had occasion to marvel at the spiritual fortitude of a martyr. Among them were Poggio and a future Pope ^Eneas Silvio.

With less difficulty the Council solved the problem of how to de- pose Pedro di Luna, Benedict XIII. He still had a following of four cardinals; and though nearly ninety he ruled the eastern coast of Spain from his castle on a crag above Pensacola, and wrote in imitation of


Boethius a treatise "Concerning the Comforts of Theology." Sigis- mund himself had visited Benedict in his former residence at Perpignan and had tried in vain to induce him to conform with the decrees o the Council. Now, however, he persuaded the countries which were in obedience to this Pope Aragon, Castile, Navarre and Scotland to sign the Treaty of Narbonne in mid-December, 1415, and there- with to sever the relationship. By this time St. Vincent Ferrer of Valencia, a holy and influential Dominican preacher, had become an important figure in the situation. This apostle, whose mind never seemed to grow old, had made a futile effort to persuade the anti-Pope, whose countryman he was and whose confessor he had once been, to abdicate. He still clung to his purpose, negotiated with the Emperor in opposition to Benedict, discussed the matter with the kings of France and Aragon, and at length declared that for the sake of unity Benedict must go. Finally the Spanish entered the Council as the fifth nation, and during the summer of 1417 joined the other powers in voting that Pedro di Luna be deposed. Though Benedict died in 1424, the burlesque of the Spanish schism continued.

The Council was wrestling with the problem whether the reform of the Church should be discussed before the election of a new Pope or whether a new Pope should first be appointed to whom the reform might then be entrusted. In spite of the great tension between the French and the English (a war had broken out just a while before and France had suffered a severe blow at the Battle of Agincourt, the ef- fects of which were mitigated only as a result of the service rendered by St. Jeanne d'Arc in 1429) , the Council remained in session and arrived at definitive conclusions. Little was done in the matter of reform, though it was ruled that Councils must be summoned periodi- cally and that precautions must be taken against the threat of a new schism. These regulations were put in force and the form under which a new Papal election was to take place was decreed- In addi- tion to the College of twenty-three cardinals, six additional prelates from each of the five nations were given the right to vote.

The French were by no means pleased when on the nth of No- vember, 1417, an Italian Pope, Martin V (1417 1431) , emerged from the Conclave. He belonged to the family of Colonna which had


caused trouble to many Popes, most particularly to Boniface at Anagni. Welcomed by the world as a saviour of unity, he received the threefold crown in the Cathedral of Constance. The ceremony was of such splendour that even Rome had seldom seen the equal.

Exactly a hundred years before ths re:\^! of Luther, this Pope rode through a German city; and at his side the Roman King and the Prince-Elector of Brandenburg walked through the deep mud holding the bridle reins of his steed. The Papacy was saved, but the man who was now Pope did not save the Church. The spirit and the mission of the Council, which came to a close in 1418, had been com- mitted into faithless hands. The fact that his fascinating character had won over everyone helped little or not at all to reform the Church in all its members. He went to Florence and from there, by diplo- macy and military action, succeeded in liberating the Papal States from the power of Naples and wild robber bands. The Eternal City and the surrounding territory afforded a picture of misery as a result of the war and famine which had been visited upon them. In Sep- tember, 1424, the Pope made his entry through the Porta del Populo. He took up residence in the Vatican and rebuilt ruined churches, in- cluding the Basilica of the Lateran which had long before been de- stroyed by fire, and as a Pope-King established the monarchical unity of his temporal power.

For more than a hundred years afterward Papal policy remained intimately bound up with the lesser fortunes of Rome and Italy. The axis of this policy became the Papal States, the emphasis on which increased as rime went on, because though the universal Church had the power to levy taxes, the triumph of nationalist particularism formed part of the troubles which necessarily confronted the spiritual head of a territorial monarchy obliged to pay soldiers, maintain a court, support cardinals and embassies, and become the builder and benefactor of his city. Martin V soon proved to be an able regent of the temporal power and an equally slothful shepherd of his flock. Neither as Pope nor as prince was he fond of the councilar idea. This was a threat to the monarchical character of the Church, and every reform it sponsored diminished the income with which alone he could balance his budget. But the nations were so persistent in demanding the continuance of the work begun at Constance that the Pope was


compelled after many evasions to summon the Council of Basel. Car- dinal Giuliano Gesarini, who had preached the crusade against the powerful rebellion of the Hussites, wrote the Pope that it was high rime to act. Martin appointed the Cardinal president of the Council and thereupon died.

Constance was dominated by an idea of the Papacy, the bearer of which (reminiscent of Dante's imperial president of the peoples) was to be caput ministeriale, a serving head, and so to strive to bring about through free co-operation with the members of the body of the Church the subordination of all things earthly to the laws of Christ, If one compares the spirit of this Council with the attitude of the old Church, one sees that in spite of many resemblances of a superficial kind there had taken place during a thousand years a transition from enthusiasm to reason and from visionary yearning for the Civitas Dei to a query put by men who knew history as to what the function of the Church really was. What place did philosophy and law assign to it in the complex of human existence, and what form of adjustment between the Church and the Papacy was desirable? This new structure had been half completed at Constance but it was to fall into complete ruin at Basel. Nevertheless the event also had its meaning and its conse- quences.

Eugene IV (14311447), an honest, strict Venetian religious, gave the Conclave the promise it exacted that he would carry out a reform of the Church and the Curia. He did not lack fanatical zeal, but he was wholly without political skill and intellectual vision. Though he may have been bound by the agreement made by his predecessor to summon a future Council of Union on the southern coast of Italy, his attempt to suspend the deliberations of Basel after they had scarce be- gun and to choose another site compelled all those who participated in the Council to oppose him from the beginning. Sigismund, the German princes and the King of France adopted a hostile attitude; Cardinal Oesarini joined forces with them and finally persuaded the Pope himself to abandon his plan. The decision of Constance that the highest powers of the Church were lodged in the Council was proclaimed anew; Pope Eugene was called upon to justify his attitude, and a movement to depose him was threatened. Sigismund went to Rome and during the last days of May, 1433, managed to have him-


self crowned Emperor. The diplomacy he used made less of an im- pression on Eugene than did attacks staged by the Visconri and other enemies. They looked upon his disagreement with the Council as an excure for stirring up popular resentment and therewith tumult. Eu- gene recognized the authority of the Council by signing a formula submitted to him; but the reforms it decreed threatened to close the sources from which the Curia could obtain much needed money. When the Council of Union was broached a minority wished to con- voke in Italy while a majority sided with the French (the object here was to restore the Gallican Papacy) and favoured Avignon. There- with minds were sundered into two hostile camps. A spiritual cleav- age went hand in hand with a disagreement concerning policy. The stronger wing of those who favoured parliamentarianism became more and more radically democratic. Caesarini and others, including the notable philosophic pioneer Cardinal Nicholas of Cusa, completely revised their attitude and once again linked up their ideal of popular government, humanism and culture with a sovereign ecclesiastical mon- archy. They attended the Council of Union which met in company with the Greeks and all other Oriental peoples in Ferrara during 1438. It removed to Florence after 1439, and later on completed in Rome the difficult task of reunion. This was, however, only short lived because the Eastern Empire had to surrender Hagia Sophia to Allah and his Prophet in 1453*

The Council of Basel continued under French leadership. Both Germany and France managed to derive political benefits from the edicts of reform issued before the breach with the Pope occurred. Declarations against Roman centralism and the system of tithes were declared a law of the state in the Pragmatic Sanction of Bourges (1438). The German Prince-Electors who after Sigismund's death maintained a neutral attitude amidst the quarrels which disrupted the Church, resolved at the Reichstag of Mayence in 1439 to fU w French example in so far as their principalities were concerned. The **Rump Parliament" of Basel committed suicide by deposing Eugene and setting up an anti-Pope the last one in history. This Felix V (1439-1449) was the rich Duke Amadeus of Savoy, who after a long reign in Rippaille on the Lake of Geneva, became a hermit living in perfect comfort as the head of an order of religious knights. He had


few supporters even in France. ./Eneas Silvio, the humanist, entered his service as secretary and lauded the spirit of Basel in the purest Latin, but abandoned the post three years later, entered the service of the German Imperial chancellery in 1442, and then as a convert to the idea of a strong Papacy laboured in behalf of Eugene IV. Together with Caspar Schlick, whom Sigismund had appointed Chancellor, and in co-operation with the travelling legates Nicholas of Cusa and Thomas ParentucelH (the next Pope), he used every means and every trick known to skillful diplomacy to bring about the end of German neutral- ity that was already favouring a breach with Eugene. He persuaded Frederic III, the weak representative of Habsburg power and German monarchy, to order the Council out of the imperial city of Basel, in- duced the princes to sign concordats (from these there developed later on the rights of princes over the churches in their territories) , and by means of the Concordat of Vienna (1448), which was declared an Imperial law in Aschaffenburg (1449) > he linked the German Church once more to a Papacy which could impose obligations but was itself above having such obligations imposed upon it. Pope Eugene did not live to see the completion of his work, but as he died he had the joy of knowing that the German ambassadors had professed obedience to him.

The wraith of the Council of Basel moved to Lausanne and there came to an end in 1449, a ^ ter ^ e ^ kad abdicated. The parliament in which, according to ^Eneas Silvio's account, the same bishops who defended their rights against Rome took to quarrelling with cooks and stable boys, ceased to possess any claim to existence. But the great chance to carry out reform in all departments of the Church was also not utilized by the Popes and the princes.

There are two kinds of sap which rise in the tree of the Church. Or rather there are two of which we are always made aware anew. The one now rose out of the world of that antiquity which again struggled toward rebirth, toward renaissance, and the other flowed from the Gospel that proclaims the death and rebirth of man into Christlikeness. These two forces were separated and merged, were wrapped in struggle, were persuaded to undergo reconciliation in that world of opposites which came by its reputation of inner unity simply because it was given an all-inclusive name the Renaissance.


The fortunes of the Papacy, the deeds and misdeeds of the men who occupied the Roman See during the time of the Renaissance, the German Religious Revolution and the Counter-Reform undertaken by the Catholic Church, bring to mind a saying by that great humanist, -^Eneas Silvio: 'The apostolic ship often founders but it never sinks; it is often shaken, but it is never broken up." On the other hand Saint Martin, a mystic, later on termed the Church the strength of the Papacy; and in this sentence he came far nearer the truth than he did in the antithetical statement that the Papacy is the weakness of the Church. For we must remember that the vigorous protests of the Church against weak and wicked Popes were normally also a silent apotheosis of the Papal Sec,

No one has ever questioned the significance of this institution for the Eternal City, but many have debated about its connection with the imperium Romanum of antiquity. On this subject opinions differ widely in all ages. Edmund Gibbon, looking back upon Gregory the Great, was of the opinion that Rome had always contained within itself the law that governs its life. Hippolyte Taine believed that the Papacy had retained too much of the spirit of the Roman Empire and of Latin culture. Nietzsche, on the other hand, reproached Christen- dom with having corrupted Rome; and Goethe, wandering over the Seven Hills, refused to judge the past in accordance with his own ideas and sought to understand the greatness which confronted his gaze. One thing is surely true: antique Rome lived on in Christian Rome, and this even in times oblivious of Christ has constituted the political backbone of religious life in Europe. This it certainly was until the Rome of the Renaissance placed God beneath the gods. It lost the inner world of the first and the seventh Gregorys and with that the right to exercise power for the sake of faith.

The triumph of humanism did not come about unexpectedly. Men recalled to mind the Greek influence on early Christian thinkers and teachers. Cassiadorc had abandoned politics for the study of the ancient writers, and on these the cultural life of the courts of Charlemagne and Otto was fed. Cicero, Ovid, Terence and Seneca



were read in the monasteries. Plato and soon after him Aristotle (though he was sharply attacked) nurtured Scholasticism. The Averroists in the secular schools of Paris soon found themselves pat- ently separating reason from faith. Dante still lived and wrote out of the feeling that these were one; and throughout a lifelong struggle Petrarch clung to that unity. After they were dead a change took place in Naples, Florence and other cities a change which led to a partly philosophical, partly aesthetic coolness to the spiritual world of the Middle Ages. In these cities and in the Rome of the Renaissance Popes, there were made manifest about 1500 things that had long since been in preparation in the dolce stil nuovo, in Scholasticism, and also in mysticism. The number of men who were estranged from the older conception of the supernatural increased. The arts of the Renaissance, if one excludes a few of its products, were no longer in- spired by the power of religion to give expression to its convictions, but grew out of the states of mind in which self-reliant man may find himself. To these artists religion became merely the subject-matter, the object, and the complex of symbols by which they gave expression to human points of view arising from within themselves. Some- times also it was no more than a storehouse of conventional fancies that could be put to aesthetic use. For already there were many who could not live without art many who differed radically in this respect from Bernard of Clairvaux who banished art lest it obscure the splen- dour of the inner life that had been vouchsafed to him. Art and inr tellectual activity were not to replace what had been lost. In this, as in many other periods during which they have flourished, they became symptoms of a defeatist pessimism face to face with existence. The magnificent human figures of the time wrestle with an inner spiritual chaos. Only a few artists confessed, as did MichaeUngelo, that in painting and sculpture alone is there no peace.

Hardly one among the ten Popes who reigned during this period of flourishing Roman culture can be recognized as a religious figure. It may be said in mitigation of the blame that rests upon most of them that there was a kind of natural barrier between these Romans and the innermost meaning of Christ's message. Characteristic of virtually all of them was readiness to take a role in th- . irama which He who


was thrice tempted by the Devil once enacted as an example for those who were to be His viceroys on earth. Everyone knows the Renais- sance Popes and knows the worst ones best. What they did for Rome abides as a service to humanity; what they left undone and what they did ignobly (perhaps these things are not separable from the service, for saints do not function as warlords, builders, and fosterers of the arts) the Church must pay for in the coinage of historical satire to which there is no reply save the answer of her Master that He had given Satan power also over His own.

The political events which took place on the European scene during this period were dominated by the rise of the Spanish Habsburg power and by the efforts of the other great powers, among which were the territorial sovereigns of the two central states of the old Empire, Ger- many and Italy, to oppose that rise. But though they were divided among themselves, the nations continued to develop an autonomous cultural life. France became the most determined rival of the Span- ish Habsburg House. After it had concluded the war with England, it effected the collapse of the hostile state of Burgundy and strength- ened its own power through the King's successful resistance to the nobles. It was again in a position to assume leadership in the trend toward absolute monarchy which was so marked a characteristic of the first half of the sixteenth century, and to foster its imperialistic plans in Italy. The governing idea was to gain control of the states of the eastern Mediterranean area. After a successful expedition enabled Charles VIII (1494) for a time to subject Italy to French influence, the fortunes of the peninsula were bound up with the outcome of the great contest between Spain and France. The prelude to this contest had been the struggle between the Houses of Aragon and Anjou for control of Southern Italy, Then the Spanish kingdom and Germany (France's ancient rivals) were united in the one empire of Charles V; and Francis I found himself in danger of being overwhelmed by the universal monarchy.

Since Germany was meanwhile split into two camps by the Refor- mation, the religious question also became a political factor in this struggle between Charles and Francis. The dissolution of the spiritual unity of Europe, long since preceded by a political centrifugalism,


was made permanent by the opposition of France and Spain. The "most Christian King" had the greatest interest in keeping the Ger- man upheaval from subsiding. He supported Protestant princes be- cause they were opponents of the Emperor, and was thus logically compelled to accord a certain toleration to a new faith which was soon to endanger the French national monarchy when it produced the re- publican movement of the Hugenots. Meanwhile Charles V, though obliged to cherish the Catholic unity which held the many peoples under his dominion together in an Empire which had no other bond, came into conflict both with the nationalism of the new teaching and also with the universalism of the Papacy, then as always the natural antagonist of his universal Empire. Therefore he had to outlaw Lu- ther and yet to take arms against the Curia, which used France against him in order to protect its own territorial power. The paradoxical spectacle of troops of a Catholic Empire inimical to heretics burning and plundering the city of the Pope (the sack of Rome) re-emphasized more impressively than ever had been done in the Middle Ages the irreconcilability of a real Empire with a politically powerful Papacy. This irreconcilability was and remained the source of misfortune in the Church regardless of whether the ancient rights of the patrimonium Petri were defended or whether the nationalistic ideal of Italy and its cultural hegemony were served. Once the temporal possessions of the Papacy had had a great significance and mission; but for a long rime this had not been the case. The Popes were harassed by con- cern over their power, and therewith lost the superior claim to uni- versal respect which alone could have unified the great powers against the threat of Tartar and Mohammedan invasions. The idea of the Crusades had still been alive in the fourteenth century. For the central powers it was part and parcel of any plan for world dominion. Intel- lectual leaders like Dante, Petrarch and subsequent humanists sum- moned all to battle against the "Egyptian hound" Islam, in the name of that great spiritual affiliation between Christian peoples which they wished to conserve as the legacy of the Middle Ages. But it con- stantly proved less possible to throw back the Turkish heirs of the Byzantine Empire as decisively as Spain had done. Francis I even negotiated with the Sultan in order to curb the power of Charles V.


Tommaso Parentucelli, the son o a Ligurian physician, continued the passionate humanistic studies of his early years after he had become Nicholas V (1447-1455) . He had served as a teacher in the Flor- entine families of the Strozzi and Albizzi and had been Cosimo de Medici's librarian at San Marco. He was from the beginning eager to spend whatever money he had for books and building. A tireless collector of manuscripts from all the world, he was the founder of the Vatican Library. His hope was that the Roman See might by foster- ing culture win the affection of the peoples; and so the court of this amiable scholar, who personally led the simplest of lives, became in all truth a Court of the Muses. Fra Angelico painted for him; Leo Battista Alberti spent his universalistic genius on countless plans drawn up for the Pope. And among the host of literati who swarmed about there were also such critical spirits as Laurentius Valla, who proved that the long disputed "Donation of Constantine" was a forgery and escaped the Inquisition thanks to the Pope and the King of Naples. Churches fallen into ruin were restored, and buildings serving practical or ornamental uses were erected. To be sure the price exacted was a wholesale destruction of the memorials of antiquity. The waters of the Fontana Treve sparkled anew as the symbol of a fresh and vig- orous Roman life. Bulwarks and castles arose throughout the city and the Papal States by order of a Pope who spent his days and nights reading parchments but did not fathom the runic handwriting on the wall of the future. A treaty with Germany, the Viennese Concordat of 1448, conferred many an advantage on the Roman See which a stronger Imperial power would not have conceded; but it also increased German resentment, which expressed itself with increased vigour in the Gravamina nationis Germanica against the methods of Roman ad- ministration. Legates of the Curia who journeyed throughout Eu- rope to proclaim the jubilee of 1450 and to introduce reforms were able to do little even though they possessed gifts of mind and character similar to those which Nicholas of Cusa, so creative a spirit in that time of intellectual change, manifested in Germany. Here, under the much too prolonged and far too inactive rule of Frederic III, on whom the Pope had in 1452 conferred the last Imperial crown that was to be bestowed in Rome, traditional bonds with the ecclesiastical centre had been loosened. The failure of such advocates of reform made a


far deeper impression on Nicholas V than did a conspiracy, organized by Porcaro, a demagogue and a shadow of Rienzi, who paid for his Gesaristic dreams and his attempts on the lives of the Pope and the cardinals with death by hanging.

A troubled Conclave followed the death of Nicholas and chose as Pope a Spaniard who had proved his mettle as a diplomat. He took the name of Calixtus III (14551458). He was descended from the powerful and prominent family of the Borgia of Valencia, and had grown up hating Islam. The war against the Turks became his polit- ical program: he sent men and money to Hunyadi, Regent of Hun- gary; and among the men were the Cardinal Legate Carvajal, the Pope's countryman, and St. Juan Capistrano, a fiery preacher. A fleet was fitted out by the Holy See itself and placed under the leadership of the Cardinal. Hunyadi died victorious after the Battle of Belgrade, 1456, mourned by the Pope who then sent aid to Iscander Beg (Prince George of Albania) who almost single handed kept the field against the Turks. The princes into whose eyes the scimitar did not directly flash looked calmly on at a distance. The Germans muttered against the tithes that were levied for the wars against the Turks; and, their bishops, whom the Concordat of Vienna had not freed from the bur- den of Roman taxation, were lax preachers of the Crusade. For the sake of its eastern trade Venice sought to live on good terms with the conquerors of Byzantium. Only a few understood what had been lost when the ancient bridge between Orient and Occident collapsed, because the fall of the hated Greek Empire overshadowed all else in their minds.

The danger was grave when Cardinal yEneas Silvio Piccolomini re- ceived the tiara as the fitting conclusion of the colourful Odyssey of his life. This noble Siennese, who had known a childhood of poverty, called himself Pius II (1458-1464) , because "Pius" was the adjective coupled with -^Eneas in his beloved Virgil's epic. He was a broad- minded humanist who had manifested the brilliance and richness of a universal mind in writings and addresses. He was known as a charm- ingly libertine story-teller after the manner of Boccaccio, as a defender of the councilar idea, as secretary to an anti-Pope, as a geographer, as the historian of the Council of Basel, and as a diplomat in the Imperial chancellery. When he reached the age of fifty he stripped off a cer-


tain frivolity and became devoted to serious thought. One is re- minded of Heniy V of England's parting from Falstaff in Shake- speare's play when one reads that the Pope in the famous Bull of 1463 told his contemporaries who bade "the new Pius to remember the old ^neas" to "forget ^neas but cling to Pius." He now upheld the Papal system without compromise. Appealing to a Council, no matter in whose name, he termed heresy and lese majeste. The first and last care of his government was to serve the idea of a unified lead- ership of the Christian West and to defend European culture against the attacks of Islam. Summoning all the Christian princes to a Coun- cil in Mantua, he urged them in a brilliant sermon to take up the Cross. He stubbornly insisted that each country pay its church rev- enue, cut off moneys due to humanists and artists, and used the vast sums which accrued to him from the newly discovered mines near Tolfa to arm and equip an army against the Crescent. When vir- tually all the Princes failed him, the Pope himself took command. He was already a dying man when he stood on the cliff of Ancona waiting for his fleet; and with his death the whole enterprise failed.

Paul II (14641471) was no energetic furtherer of his predecessor's policy. This splendour-loving Venetian dwelt within narrower ho- rizons. He was a generous and in spite of his dignity a jovial friend of the Romans, built the Venetian Palace of San Marco for himself, collected masterpieces of plastic art, and also aided the first German printers in Rome. Yet he was decidedly a churchman and this brought him into sharp conflict with the humanists. He discon- tinued the college of the seventy abbreviators who earned their keep in the Papal Chancellery by copying extracts from letters of petition and drawing up suggestions for Curial letters. Likewise he abolished the learned guild of the Roman Academy, wherein the cult of the ancient gods had become more than just a romantic game in the garb of an heroic past. The proceedings of this liberal lodge of cultivated men harboured also the passions of revolutionary demagogues. The sus- picion of having conspired against Paul rested even on Platina, who was made to serve a sentence in a cell at San Angelo. After he had begged his way out in the most self-abasing manner, he became the Plutarch of Papal history. Though his work as a whole is fair, he took revenge on the Pope who had punished him by describing him


as a rude barbarian. Since even Platina could say nothing worse, this Pope who loved the world, doubtless also added something to the carnival joys of the Romans, but could not bring himself to go beyond imposing the ban on the Hussites, managed to earn a decent histori- cal reputation.

History has had to deal otherwise with his immediate successors. Even so all the ignominy which the Popes of the next fifty years were to heap upon the Papacy is not without its significance for the political historian; and to the chronicler of culture these are, of course, decades of splendour. Because these pontificates were alternately or simulta- neously concerned with fostering either the Papal States or nepotism, they prevented Rome from being swallowed up by France or the Spanish world empire.

Sixtus IV (14711484) , born of a poor family of fisherfolk named Rovere in the Genoese country, first a Friar Minor and then General of the Franciscan Order, appears in the Vatican fresco painted by Melozzo da Forli as a venerable, princely figure, earnest, restrained, who gazes meditatively into the distance through wise, beautiful eyes. Among the men grouped before the seated Pontiff is Platina, Prefect of the Library, who kneels and points to an inscription which glorified the Pope as a builder of churches, bridges and squares, and the donor of a foundling hospital. The rest are relatives, among them also Galliano della Rovere who was later to become Pope Julius II. This group-picture, which portrays the opening of the Vatican Library, is also known as "Sixtus IV and his Circle." The chronicler of the Papacy looks upon it differently than does the friend of the arts.

Hardly was Sixtus elected than he appointed his nephews Giuliano and the degenerate Pietro Riario bishops and cardinals. Pietro soon managed to have a yearly income of about 2,250,000 francs in present- day currency. This he did not long enjoy, for he soon died of the effects of his dissoluteness. The most beloved of Papal favourites was, however, Pietro's brother, Girolamo Riario, a layman. Origi- nally a pedlar of spices, he became the sovereign of an important principality. The fact that his uncle had been zealous in behalf of the Crusades proved of value also to him; for according to contempo- raries the real Turks were the Pope's nephews. The tithes and the


moneys gained from indulgences did not suffice to attain the high objective, to reach which Sixtus waged wars and did even worse. His territorial policy clashed with the interests of the Medici in Florence. When he stripped Lorenzo of an advantage gained in the Apennines, this Lord of the Florentine Republic was compelled to make an alliance with Milan and Venice.

Sixtus saw that the Roman See was at stake. He undermined the Medici bank by withdrawing the moneys of the Apostolic Camera which were deposited there; and Florence for its part withstood Rome whenever there was question of appointments to ecclesiastical positions. Still further clashes deepened the conflict. Driven by his passionate devotion to his kindred, by a lust for power, and by theocratic concep- tions of the Church-State, the Pope could not resist affiliating himself with the most prominent foes of the Medici government. Riario befriended himself with the House of Pacci in Florence, which was harbouring plans of rebellion. The Pope was made a confidant. He said he wished the state to be overthrown, but wanted no one killed: "Though Lorenzo is a wicked man, still I do not wish his death. To give our assent to assassination whoever the man might be would not be befitting our office. But in so far as rebellion is concerned, yes, I want it ... Go and do what you think best, but see to it that no murder is done." But the conspirators to whom he addressed these words had already made it clear to him that they were plotting murder. He allowed them to proceed and perpetrate a deed which he could have prevented but did not wish to prevent. During Solemn High Mass on Easter Sunday, 1478, Giuliano Medici was murdered, but Lorenzo escaped slightly wounded into the sacristy. The indig- nant people took a dreadful revenge on the Pacci and other conspira- tors, who were thus also victims of the Papal policy. Florence was placed under the interdict, and the Papal States had to bear the mili- tary consequences of the unsuccessful uprising. On the immortal splendour of the Sixtine Chapel there falls the irremovable shadow of treason to the highest dignity on earth. During the same year -the Pope also said the word which decided that the Inquisition in Spain was to be given a new lease of life. His endorsement was necessary because in essence the Inquisition was no less a Church than a State institution. The alien, principally Jewish elements which under-


mined the structure of the state compelled their Catholic Majesties Isabella and Ferdinand to adopt measures of defense in which political ends and spiritual means, political means and spiritual ends, were in- extricably interwoven. The great historical success achieved by this blunder was the temple-like structure of a state which was so firm that it had no appeal and so strong that it virtually turned to stone. From out of this Spain, which knew how to maintain its national independ- ence when it signed a Concordat with Sixtus in 1482, there would go out later on an impulse salutary to the whole tottering Church.

A meaning of comparable depth is not to be discerned in the other European scandal of this period of intellectual renaissance. The de- plorable figure of Innocent VIII (14841492), a Genoese who owed his tiara to Julius Rovere who dominated him, began his reign by is- suing the fateful bull against witchcraft. The great prelates of the Carolingian Empire, and even the Church laws of the "dark" tenth century, had condemned as heretical the belief in witchcraft and magic which was a legacy from old Nordic and other Germanic peoples. One ruling had declared that whosoever believed these things to be true had lost his faith that he was doubtless an unbeliever, and even more degraded than a heathen. The experience that if faith is shown out the door superstition comes in through the window, was also borne out by the sunlight of the Renaissance. Everyone knows how the old German mania of witchcraft, encouraged by Luther, soon spread anew through the Protestant countries. Against the opposi- tion of those who fought against the rabid scare the noble Jesuit Count Spe and Thomasius, the rationalist Lutheran theologians thundered, and said that now atheism was bursting in upon evangeli- cal Zion. During the century which gave birth to Galileo and Lieb- nitz, countless women's bodies shrivelled up at the stake in all parts of Northern Europe. Not even the hatred entertained by the Lutheran camp for the Pope and all things Catholic, a hatred which was even to repudiate Gregory Ill's reform of the calendar on the ground that it emanated from Rome, could overcome a passionate dedication to the spirit of the "Witchhammer." This Dominican catechism of the particular madness of the time said, in opposition to the early Middle Ages and also to Gregory VII who had suppressed the persecution of witches in Denmark, that it was a great heresy not to believe in


witches and witchcraft. The German inquisitors who composed this treatise had previously succeeded in eliciting the Papal Bull, and with it solemn recognition of the sanity of their madness. Canonists, in- quisitors and executioners joined in receiving the blessing of Inno- cent VIII. These horrors ran their course while the Pope was helping his children to make brilliant marriages. He wedded his son Frances- chetto to a daughter of his new ally Lorenzo di Medici, and as part payment for this favour made a thirteen-year-old son of the Medici House (the future Pope Leo X) a Cardinal. The marriage of his daughter Teodorina in Aragon sealed the dearly bought peace with the Ferranti of Naples. Both marriages took place in the Papal pal- ace. Prince Dschem, a Vatican prisoner, furnished the sums which the Pope needed for himself and his family. This unfortunate pre- tender to the Turkish throne was kept under arrest; and in return for the service thus rendered, his brother and rival Sultan Bajazet paid a large annual tribute to Innocent.

The Conclave of 1492 was the unhappiest in Papal history. When Lorenzo Medici died the situation in Italy became chaotic. Inside the College of Cardinals the Milanese party under Ascanio Sforza opposed the Neapolitan party under Giuliano della Rovere. The leaders of both factions considered themselves still too young to wear the tiara and therefore pushed instruments of their policy into the fore- ground for the time being. It was masterly intrigue and shameless vote-buying which brought the victory to the richest of all the Cardi- nals, Rodrigo Borgia, who was the candidate of the Milanese camp. Elected unanimously, this sixty-year-old Pontiff called himself Alex- ander VI (14921503). Out of his adulterous union with a Roman noblewoman, Vannozza dei Catani, whom he loved better than any other woman who had bestowed her favours upon him, four children Cesare, Juan, Jofre and Lucrezia were born. His policy was based on nepotism; and after Cesare, who had been appointed a cardi- nal in 1493, resigned from the sacred College in 1498, the Pope de- voted himself completely to the task of building up a central Italian kingdom under the Borgia dynasty. Unstable, chaotic, he made and then dissolved amateurish alliances which brought both himself and Italy to the brink of despair. By making common cause with Milan,


France's ally against Naples, he opened a route through Italy for Charles VIII, the French king whose diplomats had won him over to their side while he was still a cardinal. Negotiations between the Pope and Naples met with temporary success. Charles recognized the legitimacy of the Pope's election, the dubiousness of which had been a trump card in the hands of the Rovere, broke the Cardinal (Giuliano) and his party, and as a result induced Alexander to sever that tie with the Aragon prince of Naples which Cesare Borgia had just previously sealed by effecting the coronation of Alfonso II. There- with the French were free to attack Naples. When a league was formed to drive the conquering Charles out of the country, the Pope reversed his policy and joined it. He now also broke off his alliance with the house of Milan and brought about the divorce of his daughter Lucrezia, whom he had married at the age of thirteen to a Sforza. This year, 1497, in which the tragedy of Savonarola, the great casri- gator of Florence, neared its end and during which the Pope's son Juan was slain, possibly by Cesare, amidst a chaos of family scandals, was followed (1498) by a sharp change in the Borgia policy. Cesare himself now took control and proved firm, lucid and merciless. Every- one knows the unrelenting methods by means of which this ruthless man during a full five years carried out his will to power in a way that delighted Machiavelli. He dominated the Pope, his family, the Curia, the Sacred College, and the Roman nobility, and nowhere met resistance.

After the death of Charles VIII in 1498, Louis XII became King of France. In order to secure the Pope's assent to his divorce he offered him an alliance. Cesare accepted. He surrendered his spiritual ride, journeyed to France in order to induce Louis to take the field against Italy, and strengthened his position by marrying a French princess. The new allies moved on from victory to victory. Milan was oc- cupied, the seigniories of the Papal states and the Romagna were over- thrown, and all resistance in Rome was put down tyrannically during a speedy campaign in which the Pope himself took a part. Meanwhile Lucrezia conducted the business of the Curia. The power of the Colonna was broken, their fortresses were captured, and the heads of the family were slain. Suddenly Cesare appeared to be on the brink of danger his condottieri deserted him. But the horrible blood


bath of Sinigaglia, where he drew the outwitted soldiers into a trap and ordered them strangled, cleared his path once more. The Orsini followed the Colonna down the path of destruction; the subjugation of Tuscany appeared to be only a question of time; the Spanish ma- jority in the College of Cardinals served as an instrument of the House of Borgia; and the Papal states were on the verge of becoming the sec- ular kingdom of their dynasty. Then everything was wrecked by an accident which seems like the closing act of a bad drama; and the splendour of the House of Borgia was destroyed.

Father and son had already done away with many a rich member of the Sacred College by resorting to poison. Cardinal Hadriaa Castellesi was also destined to meet the same fate. They agreed to come to dinner as his guests at his villa on the Janiculum. Poisoned wine, which they had provided, was destined for the lord of the house- hold; but the servants blundered and wine was drunk by all present. For two weeks the Pope fought for his strong life, but all efforts availed naught and he died on August 18, 1503.

Cesare hovered for a long rime between life and death, powerless to master the situation created by the decease of his father. After the pontificate of Pius III, an excellent Pope who unfortunately ruled only a meagre month, the energetic Giuliano Rovere became Pope. Now the head of the House of Borgia had to surrender his dominion over the Romagna. His life, which had known so many victories, came to an inglorious end in Spain during 1507. Lucrezia outlived him by twelve years; and in Ferrara she won for the name of Borgia some association with the milk of human kindness as the wife of the Duke, and as a mother and philanthropist.

Cesare and Lucrezia were personages one can understand, but it is otherwise with Pope Alexander, that formless son of chaos. Many contemporaries regarded him as a Marrane, but his habit of brooding over everything without proving able to reach a conclusion is an argu- ment against his having been of puie Jewish descent. On the other hand his superstitious nature, his intense sensuality and a certain heavy lack of intelligence make it impossible to look upon him as a repre- sentative of the pure Spanish character. But the riddle of his temper- ament is meaningless in comparison with the historical significance of his rule. Never before in the history of the Papacy was the tragedy


of a sacred institution placed in desecrated hands enacted so powerfully as in the conflict between him and Savonarola, the great martyr of the Renaissance.

The sermons of Savonarola burst upon a Florence prostituted by power and prodigality, art and beauty, just as a storm might swoop down upon a fair. One cannot believe that this reddish blond son of Ferrara, whose soft eyes blended with the threatening daring of his face, was minus a trace of German blood. A whole generation prior to the religious catastrophe which was to overwhelm Germany, he sought to find a way between the Scylla of Rome and the Charybdis of anti-Rome. He was shipwrecked upon the rock that was sacred to him. He dwelt in the world of the prophets of the Old Testa- ment; and himself was of their tribe, a prophet to the marrow. In other words, he felt himself driven to proclaim to the whole world, in the presence also of the Roman throne placed above that world, the forgotten and betrayed "things of God." Regardless of what might come, he the mysteriously commissioned priest, gifted with mystical insight into the past and the future of historical development, was ready to meet and endure whatever might be exacted of him in behalf of those divine concerns which filled and stirred his soul.

To this day his enemies hurl at this fanatic (but fanwn means "holy ground") the rebuke that a monk should have meditated in his narrow cell at San Marco over learned parchments or knelt on a prie-dieu in Florence to worship God's councils and ordinances, instead of throwing himself headlong into the business of the great world. He had burned the vanities on the Place of the Seigniories, had inaugu- rated a sombre theocratic rule in Florence after France had overthrown the Medici, and had attacked the Pope for his vices as well as refused to obey him. Only poltroons or the corrupt will deny to a prophet the right to say what he must say. Nothing is more natural than that a religious man should take an interest in political trends which seek to bring about the death of religion* But just these did Savona- rola see in progress before his eyes. To him religion was not a mere magical business; but it was often just that to his contemporaries, even in the chambers of the Vatican. He demanded pure hearts and good deeds men able to stand in the presence of God. He lived and died for the sovereignty of the whole inviolate law of Christ the King.


Prophetic consciousness spurred him on to renew the Church, in which from the beginning the gift of prophecy has always been (and will always be) made manifest. The fact that bold prophecies which he enunciated were verified strengthened his belief in his mission. Nev- ertheless he asked himself again, "Am I a prophet?" And he an- swered his question affirmatively he could not do otherwise. And then he preached unrestrainedly whatever his inner voice dictated, for it seemed as true to him as the Gospel itself. It was only as a cathe- dral preacher that he could fulfil his mission. "If I do not preach," he said, "I cannot live." The feeling of rhetorical power also carried him beyond the bounds he had set for himself. Yet even so impulse and effect, faith and utterance, survived in pure unison. Indeed loy- alty to his mission was the real cause of his tragedy. The hostile powers the Medici, Borgia, the Florence of the Arabbiati, his own Order, compelled him to act more and more wholeheartedly out of the necessity to "obey God." He was in no sense an innovator; but he did wish to renew what had become rotten in Florence, in Rome, and in the Church. His penitential sermons thundered and flashed like a great storm over the city of pleasure. Elegant humanists sniffed, irritated worldlings scoffed at him because of his ideals and his simplicity (simplicitas) . No doubt he shook the foundations of Florentine culture. But what constitutes the power of a prophet if not his fundamental repudiation of the message of comfort proclaimed by the children of this world lust of the eyes, lust of the flesh, and pride? The real pessimism was that of Renaissance man who could not live without art, not that of the gentle Friar who sought nothing less than a victory over the world. A tendency to assent to the state kept him from making the secular power subservient to the priestly power or from subordinating the monarchy to the Papacy; and yet he held that the legitimately elected Pope is superior to a Council. A conservative friend of hierarchical order, neither was he intrinsically an iconoclast. He poured out the lava of his soul in verse. Even his bitter lamentations over the decadence of the Church were given strophic form; and the shadow of his spirit rested also upon the crea- tions of the artists who fell under the ban Fra Bartolomeo, Raphael and Michaelangelo.

Savonarola pitted his hopes on an alliance with the King of France.


This belief in the great religious mission of Charles VIII he shared with others. The propaganda of the Anjous had aroused in many sec- tions of the people the hope that like a second Charlemagne the King would renew the Church of Italy and summon a Council to depose the unworthy Pope who was allied with the Turks, The Prior of San Marco could see no other help when he looked about him for some temporal power to ward off the destruction of Rome. Therefore he urged an alliance with France which was soon afterwards brought about by the Borgias themselves. Such a policy was, however, neces- sarily fatal to him as long as the Pope and his allies were pitted against France. Only Florence, under the spiritual compulsion of its prophet, clung to a union with the Valois monarch. But when Charles' cause was lost in Italy, the anger of the isolated city was directed at its spiritual leader. Alexander soon found friends enough on the Arno in order to bring about the fall of the "gossipy monk" whose peniten- tial preachments had long annoyed him. He summoned Savona- rola to Rome to give an account of himself, but the prophet did not go. He forbade him to preach; but Savonarola remained silent only a short while. He excommunicated him; but Savonarola paid no heed to this action, for the sentence seemed to him unjust and un- binding since the Pope was a simonist and an unbeliever meriting re- moval by a Council. Then Alexander threatened the city with the interdict, and the Florentines surrendered their prophet. They even tried him, though the Pope demanded that he be delivered unto him. Imprisoned, tortured, condemned to death, Savonarola remained what he had always been. On the 23d of May, 1498, he was hanged and burned. The monk entered the glory of martyrdom. A statute had destroyed the law, a letter had killed the spirit, and a criminal Pope had triumphed over a saint.

Italy could dispense with Cesare Borgia when Giuliano Rovcic called himself Julius II, in memory of Julius Cscsar (15031513). In youth he had been a Franciscan brother, had then become a bishop and a cardinal, and was the father of a daughter. Worldly to the core, heroic minded, a man of energy who with good reason was termed *'/ tembilc, this raw son of Genoa saved, as has often been said, the honour of the Papacy. He was beginning to grow old, but dur- ing the decade of his rule this titanic man proved himself the most


warlike of all the successors of Peter and the greatest benefactor of Rome. His belief was that the Popes must be lords and masters of world affairs,

Julius was the first politician on the Papal throne who devoted all his power to freeing Italy from alien dominion. The slogan "Italia fara da $e" was written on his banner long before it was ever uttered. The worldly possessions of his See were to him merely a lever with which he could make the Papacy strong and Italy free. Nepotism and concern for the power of his house did not place his great concep- tion in the bondage which before his time the Borgias, and after him the dynastically narrow policy of a Medici Pope, would make so injuri- ous to the whole nation. Once again he reconquered the Papal States in their entirety, and as a good player of political chess moved and exchanged the pieces to his advantage. He took Cesare's Duchy away from him, conquered the Perugia of the Baglioni, and wrested Bologna from the Bentivogli. Next it was the turn of Venice. In order to drive this power which as a result of the turmoil inaugu- rated by the Borgias had annexed cities and territories belonging to the Papal States and was planning to establish its power on the main- land between the Apennines and the Alps back to its lagoons, he formed the League of Cambrai in 1509 with Emperor Maximilian, France and Spain. Then he imposed the ban on the Venetians and followed this up by letting the cannon speak victoriously at Agnadello. The defeated republic was not (decided the Pope) to fall a prey to the allies of the Holy See. Least of all could it be permitted that the power of France and Northern Italy should become a threat to Rome and the whole country. Fitori i barbari! When the French vassals of Ferrara infringed upon the sovereign rights of the Pope, a causus belli was provided. Spain as well as Venice now came to his aid: it was the Holy League against France. Julius himself took the field as general, but the French troops defeated his army at Ravenna, in 1512, though their leader, Gaston de Foix, young and heroic nephew of the King, fell at the height of victory. It was fortunate for the Pope that France was at this moment compelled to face another swarm of hostile powers. The young King Henry VIII of England, whose friendship Julius had already courted by sending him the Golden Rose, went to war against France in the Netherlands, while Ferdinand of


Spain attacked in the Pyrenees. The Swiss, under the leadership of Cardinal Schinner, who was allied with the Pope, joined with the Venetians and attacked the army of Louis XII in Northern Italy.

For the time being the French retreated. Agreement was reached in Mantua that Italy had been liberated and that the boundaries of the Papal States could now be firmly established. Milan came under the rule of the Sforza family, and in Florence the reign of the Medici was re-established. Machiavelli, comparing the fifteenth century with the beginning of the sixteenth century, correctly remarked that whereas formerly even the merest baron had despised the Papal power, now even the King of France respected it.

The Pope also kept the upper hand in warding off the spiritual attacks of his antagonists. The Florentine dictator, Soderini, had ceded Pisa to the French King as the site of a synod to be called in order to bring about a separation from Rome of the national Churches of France and Germany. The idea was that the new "Goliath" on the Papal throne, who upon election had forgotten his promise to summon a Council, was to be brought down by the slings of a few cardinals. Maximilian assented; indeed, when Julius was taken seriously ill during the summer of 1511, the Emperor, who was a widower, cherished the idea of becoming Pope as well. Julius saw the signs that pointed to the danger of a schism, perforce remembered his duty, and summoned a General Council to the Lateran in 1511. This lasted five years, discussed many things, arrived at a number of excellent conclusions, but made no very deep religious impression on the world or the Church.

Meanwhile Bramante, Michaelangelo and Raphael, though they also were at odds with the Pope during many an hour, completed their great works. The rebuilding of St. Peter's was begun, though one hundred and sixty years and twenty-two pontificates were to pass before this triumphal song in stone of the Universal Church would reach completion. The Vatican grew in breadth and height; the Stanzas and the Sixtine Chapel were rejuvenated with frescoes which gave witness to a new era as well as to the renascence of ancient cultural forces. Michaelangeio's monument to the Pope in San Pietro in Vincoli remained a torso, even as the political activities of this ruler of the Church found no conrinuer and perfecter. Among all the


marble figures o this monument only one is worthy of Michaelangelo and the dead Pontiff. If, after losing oneself in reflection before this superhuman Moses, one tries to divine what the figure means, one may hover between disparate experiences of similar impressiveness. Does this figure signify by its exalted brooding aflame with divine fire, Papal awareness of God's commission to man and of His sacred wrath over the failure of mankind to respond to that commission? Or is the object of this majestic ire the scandal given by unworthy Popes?

Alexander, the Pope of Venus, had been followed by a Son of Mars; and now Pallas placed her favourite on the throne. That was about the meaning of an inscription on a triumphal arch as Leo X (1513- 1521) rode to the Vatican on a white horse, at the head of a solemn procession, to take possession of the Fisherman's See. This Medici prince was a cheerful epicurean, amiable and generous, a man of moderate endowments more devoted to the things that seem than to the things that are. He was a principe in Papal attire, and not much more. Before his rime many a Pontiff had fled from his electors be- cause the responsibility he was soon to assume seemed overwhelming. But we are told that Leo cheerfully accepted the burden. Dynastic interests took precedence in his mind over the idea of the Church as well as over the idea of the unity of Italy, which now looked upon the Popes as leaders and prime movers in the effort to foster a national policy. When France had reconquered Milan with a victory over the Swiss at Marignano, the Pope allied himself with the victor in order to insure the rule of the House of Medici in Florence. We must, he said, throw ourselves into the arms of the king and plead for mercy. His negotiations with Francis I, and the important Con- cordat of 1517 which the Lateran Council, still in session, had ratified, established the basis on which relations between the Curia and the French crown were to rest until the time of the Revolution. It is true that the half-schismatic clauses of the Pragmatic Sanction were removed in favour of a formal recognition of the Papal authority; but at bottom the fateful treaty established to a great degree the in- dependence of the Gallican Church from the Curia. Here the Pope was dominated by a desire to safeguard the dynastic interests of the Medici, and the same wish was also to involve him in disgraceful


struggles over the Duchy of Urbino. This was to be taken from the hands of a member of Julius IFs family and given to a member of Leo's family. Enormous sums of Church money were required to effect this conquest. Angered and irritated cardinals conspired to bring about the murder of the Pope. The plot was discovered and its instigator, Cardinal Petrucci, was executed. The rest paid heavily for life and mercy. The rescued Pontiff enjoyed for a few years more the life of a grand seigneur. He did not permit the new "monkish quarrels" to dampen his ardour for hunting and music, theatrical enter- tainment and generous hospitality.

Martin Luther, the Augustinian, had been sent to Rome during the close of 1510 on business for his Order, When he saw the Eternal City he fell on his knees and cried out: "Hail, O Sacred Rome!** But Rome still suffered from the effects of the reign of Alexander VI. Luther had heard and seen, had stored up in his heart, many a scandal by the time he was ready to return to his monastery cell. He was a learned doctor of theology, a zealous vicar of the Order, a preacher to city congregations, and a professor who delved so deeply into the things of God and the eternal puzzles of existence that he hardly found time in the midst of all his work for his religious duties. "I need two secretaries, since almost always I can scarce do anything else except write letters. . . Rarely do I have enough time to say the breviary and to celebrate Mass. In addition I must wrestle with my own temptations against the world, the flesh and the Devil," he writes. Even letters dated in 1516 indicated that Brother Martin was loyal to his Order, despite the fact that the spiritual world roundabout him was so disorderly. Nevertheless between the lines of what he writes there is betrayed a never-ending struggle with sexual passion, which is finally frankly confessed. Concupiscence is insurmountable. By way of excuse he clings to Pauline dicta anent the wrestling between the spirit and the flesh, anent failing to do the good one seeks to do, and doing the evil one wishes to avoid. He doubts the freedom and the re- sponsibility of man, quoting a few dark passages in St. Augustine to support his opinion while doing violence to and so falsifying other less comforting passages. In all he follows the requirements of his own heart. His nature is like a storm which drives melancholic


clouds before it, through which in moments of quiet there is revealed a gentle landscape where flowers grow and heartfelt, passionate song is heard. Even as a baccalaureate Luther had tormented himself with doubts as he lay abed seriously ill. How can I find God? How can I reconcile myself with Him since I am a servant guilty of sin and He is the heavenly Judge and Avenger? Then it seemed to him that in one's own blood there is more truth than has ever been written down. He does not govern himself in accordance with the counsel given in books, but forces the books to harmonize with himself. Where the letter opposes him with unbending legality, he flings all the wrath of his language at it. He is a man of will and of feeling who will suffer no hair-splitting to affect the God of a simple-minded human being. He bases his faith in the Lord of the world upon the universal need of the human heart. He derides and despises reason in the things of religion. With heroic self-sufficiency, he places his confidence in the voice that speaks from within. He thunders at the cunning of those who would seek God in thought, and understands Him through a faith possessing religious force as One who is exalted above all that is human. Study, brooding and the discipline have not quieted his inner torment; no measure of good works has sufficed to bring him peace; all the good will expended on service and obedience has not redeemed him from wondering whether God has been merciful to him, the repentant sinner; and so there remains only despair or else the conviction that God Himself has visited upon man everything that is native to him, including sin and that evil lust which renders him so despicable. Have I been elected to an eternal happiness which I cannot earn with my poor human power? Shall I ever be worthy to appear before the Eyes of God? Who can stand in the Presence of Him, the Holy One? With all his temperament Luther clings as firmly to God as his body does to the chains of concupiscence. Now that he has reached the years of maturity this uncontrollably sensual peasant son who has fettered himself with irrevocable vows, feels the power of the flesh strike like fire from within. He is terrified lest He who is Divine and Holy, knowing his wicked urges, will judge and punish them.

Among the books from which he had formerly sought help were some which had been written two hundred years earlier by men akin


to him in nature Ockham, the Franciscan, who thundered against the Pope, and who in loosening more and more the bonds which tied him to the Church tended gradually to regard the Bible as the infallible foundation of God's kingdom on earth; and those German mystics, the gentle Tauler and the Frankfort author of the ^beologia Germanica, who had ranked the inner activity of the soul, the submission to God in all things, purity and nobility of motive, far above outward actions. Staupitz had placed these books in the choleric young Augusrinian brother's hands in order to quiet him; and Luther found in them what he wanted to find. Grace is not accorded through the Sacraments, but comes from the rightmindedness of the receiver. Good deeds do not suffice, and consequently faith alone does suffice. Out of books that were still Catholic he read what was no longer Catholic. His teaching concerning justification declares outright that since the Fall man no longer has free will. To carry on the struggle by oneself is useless. One can only cast oneself wholly and absolutely upon the mercy of God and the grace of Jesus Christ.

Great natures once grown chaotic carry their struggles out into the world. Not everything, God knows, was corrupted in Luther's time; but as always the good that was done took place in secret, and a later world would remember of this epoch of the late Middle Ages only that it was a kind of darkly clouded eve which cast only shadows upon Luther's brooding soul. Naturally the unruly spirit of a man at odds with himself could find enough worthless things to destroy to keep him busy for a long while. Impelled by his own inner tumult Luther rose up against much that was amiss in die Church he was soon in opposition to that Church itself.

His breach with Rome did not take place suddenly. It was not out o preconceived purpose that he broke up the ancient unity. It may be that moral considerations were the deeper and stronger causes of his apostasy, but the intellectual causes were not missing. His Biblical lectures of the years between 1513 and 1517 show us a man fed on Scholasticism according to the manner of Ockham who voices his doubts as to the divine right of the Roman Primacy. The scene at Antioch and the roles there played by Paul and Peter caused him to waver. There Paul had acted "straightforwardly" in accordance with the meaning and the truth of the Gospel, which Peter had denied.


Erravit he was mistaken, and not merely weak. But the faith of Peter (and his profession of that faith) in the Son of Man, once having existed, cannot cease to be a common treasure of the Church, even though he himself may have sinned against it. The Church as a whole and not the Apostle in person has the power and the right over the keys which were given to the one man only as a representative of the community. This was no revolutionary *idea for Thomas Aquinas had also said that the "Rock" was not the person of Peter, but rather his profession of faith that Jesus was the Messiah. The conception of die Church in the old Christian times might also be adduced. Moreover Luther's attack on the potestas directa of the Pope as an authority valid even in worldly matters was quite justified, and cer- tainly not in the least out of harmony with the great theoreticians of the ancient Church. But Luther's criticism of Peter led him farther to the conviction that the Papacy and the hierarchical system are merely the work of men and that they are verily contrary to the spirit of the Gospel.

Rome, as it was, helped this beleaguered monk to draw all the con- sequences latent in his first doubt. All roads led away from Rome. The new Cathedral of St. Peter's was already ten years a-building; and for this grandiose symbol of Catholic universality and unity, enormous sums of money were needed. In exchange for the alms that came from all the world, heavy levies were made on the Church's treasuries of grace. Leo X had proclaimed an indulgence in 1514 and had promised to the appointed High Commissioner for the German north, Albrecht of Brandenburg, Archbishop of Mayence, h,-,!f of tnc moneys received. To this Prince of the Church who loved splen- dour and was deeply in debt to the Fuggers, the great bankers of the time, for the reason (there were others) that he had perforce to send a tremendous sum to Rome in payment for his dignity, this shower of graces became a monetary transaction. In order to succeed, Tetzel, the Archbishop's fiery preacher of indulgences, warped the Catholic teaching concerning indulgences for the penalties due to sin obtainable through good works. He also came to the city where Luther lived and issued warnings against Luther's contention that free will is capa- ble only of evil. The Augustinian monk then nailed his theses to the Church door in order, as he said, iinaily "to make an end of the


farce." <r Why does the Pope, who is richer than Croesus, not build St. Peter's with his own money rather than with the pennies of the Christian poor?'* This was the most harmless of his dicta. It went straight to the point in true German style and was timely; but other theses went much farther. They were protests against the ministry of the Church to souls, proclaimed in the name of the Gospel as Luther understood it. All this took place on the Eve of All Saints, which is the feast of the unity of the Church Triumphant. The most majestic conception of the primitive Church, to which Luther surely wished to lead his time back again, was therewith undermined; everything that occurred in addition tore asunder more and more irreparably the ancient Christian spirit of communion, the basic idea of die Church, Not even the most despicable of the Popes had rent asunder the soul of Christianity. Yet precisely this it was which the tirades of Rome's antagonist demolished.

As yet neither he nor his country understood what had happened. Within fourteen days the theses and the name of Luther were known throughout all Germany. The Princes showered praises upon him because he had dammed up the stream of German gold that was pour- ing over the Alps. The monasteries and religious foundations took his part because their own indulgence privileges were once more held in honour. The people sang his praises because he said it was far nobler to help a poor person than to erect costly temples. Learned young humanists and the revolutionary knights of the Empire were less delighted with his version of Christianity than with his attack on the "anti-Christ in Rome." This widespread acclaim enabled Luther for a short time to appease his heart, which was still tormented by scruples and anxieties. Fame was like a charming lullaby that spoke of approaching better times. But the battle with Rome had begun, the seed of disunity sprouted, and as days and years went by the sower saw ripening a terrible harvest he had not desired. In his person the whole Germanic spirit had revolted in its dual nature, which is compounded of childlike candour and barbaric savagery. A nature which was religious to the core drew a sword against the objective truth of religion, out of yearning for holiness and out of pious shudder- ing in the presence of a just God enthroned above an unjust world.

Soon this man of God saw himself involved in a universal revolt


o all mean instincts. The Sesame of freedom opened gates through which the dammed-up corruption of society drained off. If one wishes to term the Lutheran movement a cloaca maxima, the remark is just if one bears in mind that the corruption was of long standing and that therefore he who set the foul current in motion was only partly to blame, Luther avenged the preachers of reform Peter Damien, Bernard, Catherine of Siena and many others whose words had not been heeded. Twenty years previous the Church had kindled the fire that smothered the sermons of the prophet of Florence. Now there came a man who placed the brand in her own building.

Small wonder that Leo X did not understand what was happening. The seriousness of the German monk kindled no echo in the smiling Medici prince. Luther himself, as he blundered on, did not see whither the road led. Magis raptus qttam tractus (hustled into rather than attracted to) he had entered the monastery ; and in quite the same way he now rushed onward under the lash of his daemon. There can be no doubt that he was in earnest when he wrote the Pope that he fell at his feet, surrendered himself together with all he was and had, recognized in him the voice of Christ, and was minded also not to fear death if he had deserved it. Soon thereafter he refused to obey the Roman legate's demand for a retraction and fled. His adaman- tine certainty that he sought the right was transformed by the applause of thousands who looked upon him as a religious and social emancipa- tor, into a prophetic belief that he and his teaching had been ordained by God Himself. A few months afterward, relying upon his feeling that surely he wanted only what was best for the Church, he once more assured the Pope of his loyalty; and yet a few weeks afterward he confessed that he did not know whether the Pope was anti-Christ himself, or merely anti-Christ's apostle. Like all powerful natures destined to become innovators, he wavered between flagrant contradic- tions; and he leapt now to this and now that beam of a scaffold which he himself had caused to topple. The letters and the treatises he wrote in the single year of 1520, which sealed his breach with Rome, mirror all the moods of a gruff assailant, a vengeful man, a tender for- giver of wrong, a vicious rebel, a gentle, quiet seeker after the peace of God, an iconoclast and a dreamer envisaging an ideal religious culture.


Everyone knows what happened as a result. To Luther himself, burning the first Roman Bull was a trifle. The Pope himself ought to be burned, he said: and those who did not immolate him in their hearts could not be saved. In a letter to Leo he praised the Pope's personal excellence and regretted that he was a Pope, since the Devil would be better suited to the position. The second Roman Bull struck at the rebel with clubs, but it was in vain. Luther gambled on the profound antipathy of the nation to the Roman See. Disregarding for the moment all other causes of indignation, one must remember that Germany fostered a grudge against the Pope because he had de- cided in favour of the French monarch during the struggle between German and French rulers for the Imperial crown. Aflame with this feeling, Luther journeyed to the Reichstag at Worms, riding like a Roman victor on his chariot, and carried the people along with him as he preached. Drunk with success later he was to smile bitterly at this drunkenness he, still the pale monk, emaciated to the bone, stood before the Emperor at the Assembly and answered "Nay," when he was called upon to utter a curt *Tes" in retraction. "God help me, amen!"

What happened during the next years was not all he might have wished. The princes clutched at monastic property and covered their mean greed with pious sayings about the Gospel and freedom. Clerics tore asunder the chains of their state of life, and the monasteries were soon empty. The peasants revolted against the oppression of the great lords, counting on the new man of Wittenberg as the saviour of his people and resorting to axes and scythes when he impotendy counselled peace. At last the whole of Germany foamed and surged quite differently than he could ever have desired or imagined in his own mind. Soon it was as if he were standing alone on a rock by the sea, crying out at the flood of waters and being heard no longer. He was the powerless spectator of the consequences of his violent rebellion. The two natures which had been imposed upon him gaped more and more widely apart. He summoned himself to give answer in a stern examination of conscience, and therefore probably ako exaggerated the state of mind in which he found himself. He saw the Doctor plenus eating and drinking, forever snoring and slothful at prayer. The man of the spirit looked disconsolately at the havoc


wrought, and tuned the lyre of his feeling to the music of wonder* ful song* The demon in Luther hated devilishly, slew about him raucously, and made grimaces; but the bright, pious, darling child in him praised the Lord as he had always done in hymns. Today he doubts the value of his achievement; tomorrow he is certain of it again. Pushed on by the trend of events, he must often permit and do things that his heart repudiates; but if the whole is successful, what difference has a huge lie made? For him more than for anyone else the end justifies the means.

In founding and building up the Church he had severed from Rome he made tremendous mistakes. He tied it to the same worldly power which he had fought as the mortal enemy of a spiritual power and had none the less buttressed with quotations from the Scripture. The old and the new epochs part company in this giant and do battle within his soul It is no wonder, then, that from his eye there looked heaven and also hell The new era that took its rise in him he did not under- stand or desire. Freedom of faith and liberty of conscience, which he is said to have created, were so alien to him that he much preferred contradicting himself to conceding that one who contradicted him was right. No Church was any longer necessary, for his religion of God and the Soul required no visible authority. But it was too nearly akin to chaos to permit the rebels to surrender all that was contained in the Church. This disappeared only partly in the stormy waters; on the wreck to which its apostles clung, there raged a dreadful battle concerning the word of God, the half crushed Host, and the dregs of spilled Wine a thousand years old.

The drama was enough to drown out the voice of many a friend of Luther during the song of exultation. One for example, was Erasmus of Rotterdam. The greatest scholar of Europe was also the embodiment of a long-established quandary in which minds were caught as they faced the Church which was the backbone of Europe, and the new life of culture which broke against the walls of that Church. It was likewise a puzzle of choosing between the rights of the institution and the rights of the personality. Erasmus had poured out buckets of sarcasm over the way things were going in the Church and the Papacy; he had despatched the most ruthless satire to Julius II


in eternity his imaginary conversation between the Pope and St. Peter at the heavenly gates more devastating even than the blows despatched by Ulrich von Hutten and Heinrich Kettenbach. But as early as 1524 he left none in doubt that he wished the Catholic struc- ture to endure. His character wavered, but it wavered round a fixed centre of confidence in the calling and the power of reason to lead mankind along the right path. He was an antiquarian in whom the Hellenic art of a humanity resting within itself was joined with the irony of a disillusioned Christian who finds the world everywhere caught in a contradiction between what is and what ought to be. Like Grotius, Leibnitz and Herder, he belonged with the spirits who love no party, fear no party, are without ties to the power of possessions, and hover above the storms and the waves of their time. In that they want to be everything to all their contemporaries they are nothing real to any of them. To the world roundabout them they give the im- pression of being double-tongued, because in playing their roles as all- discerning critics they realize the absurdity of every extreme view, never utter a final opinion straight-forwardly, and play right and left and above and below against each other in a salutary and educational way. Thus it was that Erasmus, good friend of the Popes from Leo X to Paul III, came to seem the prototype of a Catholicism lame on one side who found his counterpart in a Luther lame on the other side.

Leo died in the prime of life, "even as the poppy withers away.** As a result of the difficult situation created by tie conflict between France and the Habsburgs (which divided the Conclave even as it did the world outside) a man who lived in Spain as Regent of Charles V became Pope. He was the son of a handicraft worker and took the name of Hadrian VI. Of German ancestry and born in the Nether- lands, he had previously been the Emperor's teacher. Strictly re- ligious in outlook and of a retiring disposition, he was no patron of the arts, but the friend of the beggars and cripples who confidently lined the road as he passed. The fact that he was upright and virtu- ous prevented him from pursuing a "strong" policy. The single year (15221523) of his reign was rich in earnest goodwill but poor in successes. In the name of this last German Pope, who was also


the last non-Italian Pontiff, the Nuncius to Germany, Chieregari, ap- peared before the assembly of Imperial dignitaries and spoke with unprecedented plainness concerning corruption in the Church and the blame which rested on the Curia and the Pope for having brought about the great apostasy. What was dishonourable, he said, was sin and not the confession of sin. But Pope Hadrian merely pushed the stone of Sisyphus up the Alps therewith; and quite as futile was his summons to the powers to join against the Turks, who after having brought about the fall of Belgrade also captured Rhodes in 1522 from the heroic Knights of Malta. He likewise set to work in earnest re- forming the Curia, gained the ill-will of those who profited by routine, and nevertheless made no friends in Germany. For even a good Curia would no longer have been appealed to in any case. The Pope whom Luther hated was zealous for the purity of Catholic teaching; and revolutionary Germany desired the "correct, pure, unadulterated Gospel" when the Nurnberg Reichstag assembled. Hadrian died full of sorrow. His monument in the German Church in Rome bears as its inscription his own sigh, "Ah, how much difference it makes in what times the virtues of even the best man blossom!"

Storm clouds gathered round the European horizon. The German war of religion was succeeded by social wars between groups of citizens. The Scandinavian countries began to sever the bonds between them- selves and Rome. Spain and France were warring for the north o Italy; and in the East the Crescent was moving onward. The Papacy, as a spiritual and temporal power, was involved in all the movements of the intellect and in all the passages at arms. The earthly strength of a giant and the heavenly strength of an angel would both have been needed in Rome to keep the Church as it was intact, for it was now an empire of compromise between Christ and Belial. Clement VII (15231534) , another Medici Pope and a son of the Renaissance as well as its destroyer, hoped to serve both masters. He lost in every engagement. Against his will he fostered religious rebellion; and equally against his will he settled alien dominion upon Italy for centu- ries. This intelligent, serious minded, but always hesitant, wavering Pope, spun a political fabric that was all too fine and artistic. The result was that it tore asunder at every thread.

Under his predecessors Popes Alexander, Julius and Leo the


Spanish power had been extended farther and farther northward from Southern Italy. Being himself a friend of the Emperor, he had favoured Spain when he was Leo's Secretary of State. But the pres- sure of alien rule on a country which sought a political expression of unity and freedom to conform with the spiritual world power it already possessed proved constantly more and more unendurable. National hatred was stored up against the arrogant, booty-loving "semi-bar- barians." The Pope's dynastic interest in Florence likewise induced him to covet the friendship of France, It was not long, however, before Francis I was compelled, after the Battle of Pavia in 1525, to surrender his sword to the Imperial ruler of Milan and let himself be led off a prisoner to Madrid. The frightened Pope humbled himself before the Emperor in order to retain Florence. But the Peace of Madrid, which was signed at the beginning of 1526, subordinated France so completely to the Habsburg power that all Charles' op- ponents, including Italy and the Pope, banded together at Cognac to form a Holy League. During the same year the German Protestants obtained the status of a legal party at the Reichstag of Speyer; and now the Emperor had to reckon with them as a political factor quite in the same way as he had to deal with the Pope as a political antagonist. In the League England, Venice, Milan and Florence were joined with Clement. France was included, too, for its king no longer considered himself bound by the oath he had sworn in Madrid to renounce all claims on Italy. Charles* army, in which many Lutherans also fought, opened the campaign without money. It was to pay its own way by looting. The objective was Rome and its Pope. Frunds- bcrg showed his troops the rope with which the Pope was to be hanged, and by forced marches the army drew nearer and nearer to the Eternal City. It sacked Rome in 1527 like another mob of Vandals. It is unnecessary to relate again the well remembered story: churches were devastated, tabernacles were broken open. In front of the altar in St. Peter's there lay in a heap the corpses of those attached to the Papal court. Soldiers dressed in red led donkeys on which cardinals were seated, through the city. A German arrayed in the Papal robes directed the shafts of his wit at the Pope who was a prisoner in St. Angelo, and a mock conclave declared Luther elected Pope. A Swabian Lutheran thus described his role in the afiair: "In San AngeJo


we found the Pope Clement with twelve cardinals in one narrow stall. We made them prisoners, and the Pope had to sign the articles which the secretary read to him. There was great sadness among them and they wept a great deal; but we all became rich."

The Pope sought safety by adopting a policy exactly the opposite of that he had sponsored hitherto. Florence had in the meantime cast off the rule of the Medicis; and the French army of Northern Italy was crushed by the Emperors Spanish troops. In order to save Tuscany for his family, Clement curried friendship with his van- quisher. When the land had once again been brought under Medici rule by the grace of Charles, a marriage sealed the reconciliation Allesandro, a Papal dependent and future lord of the Florentine re- public, took for his wife a natural daughter of the Emperor. Charles now also found himself obliged to be more considerate of the Pope if he hoped to avoid being labelled a Protestant, or finally arousing against himself the indignation of his Catholic Spaniards. Pope and Em- peror met in Bologna during 1530. There, in the great hall of San Petronio, Charles received tfce crown it was the last coronation of a German Emperor by a Pope. When he also signed a treaty with Clement, upon whom all Italian patriots had set their hopes, he was the master of the land. From this hour forward Italy beheld in the Germans its mortal enemies. The Guelph idea of freedom lost the powerful protection of the Papacy; and Italy began to serve as the football of Spanish despotism, of Bourbon greed for territory, and of Austrian absolutism.

Charles made it difficult for the Pope to keep the peace. Not as a Catholic but so much more as an administrator of Imperial power, he sought to make the professors of both the new and the old faiths contented subjects of his government. Therefore he found it ex- pedient to keep up the appearance of being one who stood above the parties, and so joined in the general demand for a Council. The Pope, however, had reason to fear that the Emperor s policy was ad- vantageous to Protestant interests, and once more tended to join France. While the redoubtable Julius II had been as frightened of a Council as a schoolboy is of the rod, the weaker Medici Pope was afraid lest he would confront an ecclesiastical parliament forcibly subordinate to the


Habsburg power. He created a counterweight by forming a new alliance with Francis I. He met the King in Marseilles, gave him his niece Catherine de Medici for a daughter-in-law, and won the King over to voting against the idea of a Council. It is true that Francis persecuted the Calvinists in France but in Germany he supported the Protestants and was on the best of terms with Philip of Hesse, the Em- peror's enemy. It seemed that with a little pressure the Pope, who wanted to root out heresy with fire and sword, might himself have attempted to gain the support of the Lutheran princes.

Meanwhile letters heavy with fate had been exchanged between England and Rome. The desire of the English Church for inde- pendence had been in sharp antagonism to Roman claims since many a century. There the Gailican liberties had originated. Neverthe- less the Tudor who now wore the crown did not at the beginning seem destined to complete the breach with Rome. Yet this came closer now with rapidly increasing speed. Henry VIII had written a theological tract against Luther's heresy and had been given the Pope's approval as a reward. Soon, however, he looked upon the heresy with favour; for he quarrelled with Rome over a marriage deal involving Catherine of Aragon, his wife and the Emperor's aunt, and the lady-in-waiting whom he loved. The bloody, unhappy romance of his life occupied the centre of the European stage then and long thereafter. The Pope opposed the divorce which the King demanded. As things were after they had been expounded, twisted and turned by a host of theologians, scholars and politicians, the Pope could have blessed the King's passion, though of course it would only have been the first of many indulged by this insatiable cockerel. Campeggio, the Papal legate, had as a matter of fact crossed the Canal with powers, the latitude of which left nothing to be desired, in his pocket. But the issue was deter- mined by fear of the Imperial master of Italy. Clement declared that Henry's marriage with Catherine, the widow of Charles' brother, was valid and indissoluble. Schism was the King's answer. By the Act of Supremacy (1534) which the Pope did not live to hear of, Henry decreed that the King was the sole and highest head of the Church of Englahd and that the rights of the Pope were transferred in essence; and that whoever did not submit to the new order of tilings would be


punished with death as being guilty of high treason. The first victims of this Qesaro-Popism included Thomas More, the Chancellor and the friend o Erasmus and of the younger Holbein, but nevertheless a martyr to the Roman idea, in the puzzling deeps of which the Cross and antique civilization have been bound together for all time.


Just as the weight of a wave impels the water to a counter stroke, so did the Protestant revolution summon forth the strength of the ancient Church. Her enemies saved her. Yet during the whole conflict a universal rule of battle was observed; the character and trend of the defense were adapted to the nature and method of the antagonist's attack. The Church was now defending its very being against revolu- tionary forces which by the time Clement VII died had already wrested a third of Europe from the old unity. The apostasy as such was as lacking in uniformity as the characters of Luther, Calvin, Henry VIII and Melanchthon were disparate. They agreed only in breaking away from Rome. The Roman Church was incomparably more firmly welded together in reaction and renewal. Nevertheless in its case also die forces of reform did not spring from a single source. Side by side with the melancholy spirit of compulsion (the opposition, too, had its Calvin) there stands the magnanimous charity of great saints. Unbending political manoeuvring existed side by side with the warm inner life of the mystics. The fact that a conflict was in progress stimulated energies, and aroused enthusiasm for hard work in every field; and yet on the other hand, perhaps because of the influence of the Spanish character, there was emphasized a spirit of stern martial discipline which is likely to seem narrow and harsh when compared with the life of the ancient or the mediaeval Church. Perhaps one could explain the cheerful, mobile gesture of baroque art as the projec- tion of a dream image of invisible treasure no longer possessed. The havoc wrought by an excess of freedom was discernible in the ruins of the Church of Luther, and proved a frightening example to the Catholic Church. In its new entrenchment it bore out an ancient saying that our enemies teach us what we ought to do. And yet that which was learned was not always pure gold.

Great things were done under the first Popes after the Sack of Rome. Under Paul III (1534-1549), a Farnese Cardinal, they took place quite without the spur of a passionate yearning for holiness* This Pope was a creature of the Renaissance, who during the forty years o



his cardinalate had carefully kept up the appearance of being a man who stood above the parties. His heart beat faster for his children and grandchildren, for a princely existence and role, than it did for the Church, but he gave it at least the benefit of skillful and brilliant guidance. Just so a captain spends his careful foresight on a ship and is not asked if he loves the vessel or is able to steer it. This Pope was also like a seaman in that he followed anxiously the course of the stars. The astrological superstitions of the times dictated his hesi- tancies and his actions alike.

His government was inaugurated with a noble deed. Already under Leo X fifty or sixty men had gathered in Rome pious, learned friends of the renaissance of holiness in a Church grown indifferent to what is holy. The example set by this "Oratory in Divine Love" made an impression also on other cities; and when a hard fate was visited on the society in Rome and Florence, Venice afforded them a quiet refuge. Their modest plea for reform began with efforts to purify their own souls; it was drowned out by the storm of revolu- tion in the north, and its real significance was not generally realized even later on. Outside this community there likewise arose here it will suffice to refer to Vittoria Colonna and Michaelangelo a new religious demand that the Church, which had forgotten its Founder through concern with His viceroy, become conscious of its true mission.

At first this was without connection with the Reformation in Ger- many, but later it was in more or less intimate contact with that move- ment. The first concern of these minds was not the Papacy, or even criticism of a Pope who accompanied noisy hunting parties and staged daring plays for his amusement, but rather the realization of the re- ligion of Christ in the Church. Soon Paul III had summoned from the "Oratory" confraternity a number of eminently noble men of Italian and also of foreign descent to the College of Cardinals. This became "the worthiest senate of the Papacy" to have met for centuries. One of them was the aged bishop John Fisher, whose features Holbein has passed down to us, though the summons came only a few weeks before he fell a victim to the wrath of Henry VIII. Like Thomas More, he was beheaded. His countryman Reginald Pole, later Arch- bishop of Canterbury, whom an unflinching conscience had led to refuse recognition to the King's supremacy over the Church, received


the purple. After Henry's death this Cardinal, on whose mother, brother and friend Henry had avenged himself with the executioner's aid, laboured to effect the Catholic reform of England in a genuinely spiritual sense. A third name, that of Caspar Contarini, is most intimately associated with the Lutheran Reformation. He was a man of fine mind and of every virtue of character, who was descended from one of the oldest and richest families of Venice. Long since he had proved his worth in many ways as a writer of learned, sometimes philosophic treatises, as a holder of high state offices in his native re- public, and as an ambassador to the court of Charles V. He was still a layman when Paul III named him a cardinal. During the difficult theological discussions which marked the Reichstag of Regensburg in 1541, he worked in a spirit of irenic conciliation and was soon exposed to attacks from both sides to the scorn of Luther as well as to ac- cusations from some who were close to the Curia that he had betrayed the Church and assented to heretical teachings. The Counter-reform began to make progress. A commission to which Contarini also belonged was entrusted with the carefully planned work. To each of the nine members, the Pope sent directions which incorporated his desire for serious reform. *'We hope," he said, "that your election will help to restore the authority of Christ in our hearts and in our efforts an authority which had been forgotten by the laity and also by us who are of the clergy. May you be a physician for our malady. May you lead back the scattered sheep of Christ into the one fold. May you turn aside from our heads the wrath and vengeance of God, which we have deserved and which we see already coming down upon us/*

This memorandum of the commissioners also discussed in the same frank way the tasks confronting the Council that was soon to convene. Political and religious struggles, above all the French intrigues, de- layed for years its coming together as well as the choice of the city in which it was to meet. Finally, at the close of 1544, the bull Lcstare Jerusalem called it together; and during the same year it opened its sessions m the Cathedral of the ancient episcopal city of Trent. This Council, twice interrupted for longer periods, lasted almost two decades.

Before the Council met efforts to bring about a reunion in Germany


had failed. Not all the Lutherans were Melanchthons; not all the Catholics were Contarinis. This outstanding Cardinal, who was actuated by a strong desire for mutual understanding, found opponents in his own ranks. Just as he could not countenance the violent lan- guage used by Luther against the Pope, so also was he far removed from the spirit of the leader of the intransigents the uproarious, adamantine Neapolitan Cardinal Gian Pietro Carrafa, an Oratorian for whom he himself (for he lacked knowledge of men) had obtained a seat in the Sacred College. Severe with himself as well as others, Carrafa banded a group of the sternist reformists together in the Theatine Order, summoned all to battle to the end against heresy, and in 1542, when the Counter-reform was also making headway in Italy and France, gave the impulse to the establishment of the inquisitorial tribunal of the Curia, which was later on to be so well known as the Holy Office. If one adds to this all the missionary effort undertaken during these years in the Americas and in the Orient, the renewal of old Orders, and the foundation of new ones, one has an impressive total which testifies to Rome's determination to see all things as they really were.

Doubtless the greatest event of this pontificate was the rise of a man who, encouraged by Cardinal Contarini, soon began to exercise an influence upon the Papacy, the Church and world history. He was Ignatius Loyola, founder of the Society of Jesus. Perhaps never again in human history has a great work so firmly and permanently remained the veritable incarnation of its founder as has the worldwide power of this Society. That is reason enough for riveting one's at- tention upon Loyola.

The most faithful likeness of Ignatius we have is his death mask. It concealed more than it revealed, even as he did when he lived. He never unveiled himself entirely, never permitted a painter or sculptor to confer immortality upon his features; and so every attempt to realize what manner of person he was leads to conundrums despite the history of his life, his own letters, and his succinct memoirs.

The twenty-five-year-old knight Inigo, of the Basque Castle of Loyola, was tried in 1515 for knightly escapades. Even as a boy and as a page in a Castilkn household, he had been full of the joy of


living. As his patron and protector he selected St. Peter, the un- controllable disciple with a belligerent temperament, Inigo's zest for battle was temporarily dampened by a bloody occurrence of the year 1521. The city of Pamplona was threatened by a French attack. The officers were already prepared to surrender, and only one issued the fiery command, "War to the knife!" He was Ignatius. His advice drowned out the prudence of the others, and the enemy began to storm the fortress. One of the first shots fired during the bombard- ment tore a hole in the wall on which Ignatius was standing. His right leg was mascerated by a second shell, and his left leg was injured when part of the wall collapsed. This happened on May 21.

Pamplona fell. Carried to Loyola on a stretcher, Ignatius endured weeks of pain. His leg was poorly set, so that it grew shorter and had to be reset. Despite his agony, the injured man uttered not a sound, contenting himself with clenching his fists. On St. John's Day hope for his recovery was practically abandoned. Yet the danger passed: ointment, the surgical saw, and a device for stretching his leg saved him. The worst which this man of war had to endure as he lay abed was inactivity. He asked for knightly romances, but all he got was a score of pious books. These he tossed aside in disappointment, preferring to spend three or four hours day-dreaming about the lady of his heart. Yet he was so bored that finally he did pick up the Life of Christ and the Flowers of the Saints. Curiously enough, the content appealed to him deeply. Nevertheless as he read he was still wondering how he could make an impression on his lady fair.

His soul was kept in constant tension by an impulse toward what was great and unusual. It lay there like virgin soil in which the furrows had been newly ploughed and which waited for seed. How would it be, he asked himself , if I did what Francis and Dominic have done? "And therefore, he reflected much and resolved to do a nunv- ber of hard, difficult things." As yet he was driven only by ambition to imitate these men. Only when he had noticed a difference in the after-effects of his dreams, and had seen that his worldly visions left him melancholy while his pious visions cheered him, did he surmise in all this the voice of a higher will: 'This was the first conclusion which he drew in regard to Divine things." Since he had a great desire for adventurous journeys, he decided to travel to the Holy Land,

264 fasting and mortifying himself. The worldly images which had hovered before his imagination gave way to religious visualizations of great strength and clarity. A vision of the Blessed Virgin and her Child cleansed him of all the muck of accustomed sensuality, so that even at the end of his days he could say that since this time he had not in the slightest way assented to lust. Henceforth Maty was his ideal woman and heroic service to the Church became the content of his life.

During the spring of 1522, he left the castles of his ancestors behind, and followed a vocation to saintliness. Like many of the elect before him, he was without a plan and suffered mere chance to show him the way he was to go. He trusted to his mule to know what the next objective of the journey would be. The poor beast slowly bore him up Montserrat, the holy mountain of Catalonia. While the rocky peaks towered round about him, he spent three days in confessing to the priest, thus passing judgment upon himself. On the evening of the 24th of March he exchanged his knightly attire for a pilgrim's coat, hung his sword and dagger on the altar of Mary, consecrated himself to his new knighthood as a spiritual Amadis by keeping an armed guard, spent the long night half kneeling, half standing, leaned over his staff by reason of weariness, and prayed before the miraculous Image. On die next morning he started off toward Barcelona and made his first halt in Manresa.

Here, on the heights above this meagre village, from which one could look out at the peaks of Montserrat, there took place that strenu- ous struggle of his personality with itself, the peaceful outcome of which has been of lasting historical importance and has made the word Manresa abide for all time as synonymous with the religious peace to which the human heart can attain.

A pest had broken out, so that nothing stirred in the harbour of Barcelona. Travel to the Italian maritime cities, and therewith also the journey to the Orient which had been Inigo's next plan, was cut off. Now the zest for action which stirred in this spiritual knight turned itself inward, to the Holy Land of the Soul. As he went about in his curious penitential garment, he seemed to the public one of the personas spirituales those persons who hungry for God, here and elsewhere went from theology to religion, now that the mills of


Scholastic thought no longer ground any grist and kept going only for the sake of the noise they made. Every day Inigo read the Passion of Our Lord during Mass. Daily he prayed seven hours, wore a hair shirt and a penitential girdle, took care of the sick, and mortified his flesh. All that anguish of rebirth taking place in loneliness, which strikes at the very bottom of the human soul more fiercely than any- thing else in the world, descended upon him, too. Heaven began to play a wild game with him. A storm baffling all description now carried him up to pleasant heights, and then again threw him down into the abyss of despair. Today he could be blissfully aware of his high calling: tomorrow he would feel all the misery of one whom God has forsaken. And when by unrestrained penitence, he had exhausted his body, which he looked upon as a beast of burden in the service of the Church, there was associated with his physical weakness the spiritual illness which in his eyes was worst of all arrogance of the soul, which suggested to him that he could feel certain of Paradise. Like all heroes of self-discipline, he paid for attacks on his own ego with the revenge taken by an undermined nature; and so the sharpest pain he was to feel still awaited him. It is true that his cool temperament preserved him from the usual temptation of extreme ascetics mon- strous sensuality. So much the more was he stabbed by the swords of endless scruples. In this respect he had a certain similarity to Luther. Despite many thorough confessions, Inigo also doubted that his sins had been forgiven, took the body of the Lord in constant fear that he was eating the Judgment, and saw in everything he did naught but sin. Indeed, one Sunday after Communion he nearly committed suicide. Once again he attempted with a long fast to compel God to give him peace* When this also failed, he began to look upon all his life of penance with disgust and was on the verge of abandoning it. Ten months of torment had passed; and then the scruples van- ished into nothingness by reason of the Saint's energetic prayer, and his conviction that all the forces which had lamed him were of the Devil. The battle was over and a new man, rich in peace, had been born into the world.

All things are more sharply defined in the pure air that follows a storm and so Ignatius now saw the things of the world of the spirit with new plainness. Glancing into the rivulet at Manresa, he seized


in an Instant that passed with lightning-like swiftness the world's meaning. It was in consonance with his soldierly nature that he should see God as the hidden Shepherd o creatures, who in the well- ordered gradations o their hierarchy serve Him. A vision of light which comforted him was often his companion as he went along. Seeing Satan in the form of a snake, he struck at him with his staff. An image of the Trinity as a clavichord of three keys, which came to mind as he was going up the steps of a church, filled his eyes with tears of joy. Often, in sudden flashes of luminous intelligence, he under- stood mysteries with such clarity that he thought no amount of study could have brought him anything comparable. While fully conscious he was wrapped in ecstasy, and felt thereafter that he had been "an- other man with another intellect." During hours when he had to make great decisions, he entered into conversation with his visions. In their presence he stood as if he were in God's school, and there re- ceived knowledge of the right and the strength to do that right. Even so he was afterward to look with cool scepticism on everything un- usual in the religious life and to oppose sharply the yearning for visions entertained by others.

Ignatius had wandered through all the corridors of the labyrinth of the inner man. Of these he made sketches and reflected on how he could build up a system of religious exercises. What he had read and had himself experienced was to become a plan and rule for others. Distinguished ladies of Barcelona were his first pupils, but his urge to conquer men for his principle, "All for the greater glory of God," drove him on. Perhaps he was already then entertaining the idea of found- ing a community; but before proceeding to carry out any such plan he made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem in 1523. Political obstacles pre- vented him from working as a missionary there. What he saw of the Holy Places stirred him profoundly; he made careful note of his emo- tions which were to serve him later on as aids in the will-training which his "Exercises" were to foster. Then he returned to Spain via Venice in order to secure the theological education he lacked. He was then thirty-three years old, but he took his place on a school bench to learn Latin. He bore patiently with all the chicanery which the clergy and the Inquisition showered on him, studied in Alcala and Salamanca while begging his daily bread, and "exercised" the souls of his fellow

THE " students. Then he went to Paris and there attended the university. The zeal with which his soul was filled made him so bothersome to many that he barely escaped being whipped out publicly; but he steadfastly put up with venomous remarks and even hid the fact that he was of noble ancestry when he could have mastered difficult situations by assuming an aristocratic air. Quietly, after many failures, he won friends and assistants: the shy, dour peasant's son, Peter Faber of Savoy; the brilliantly unrestrained Francis Xavier, of a noble Spanish family; the learned, intellectually agile Spanish Jew Lianez; the sanguine and noble Salmeron; the busy and boisterous Boabdilla; and the contemplatively phlegmatic, amiably vain Rodriguez. All of them he attached to himself, the leader, for life. When he banded them together on the 15th of August, 1534, in a Church on Montmartre, the germ of the Jesuit Order had been embedded. The handbook of this association of students was the little volume of Exercitia Spiritualia—a well planned offensive on an ego ever threatened by itself, a compendium of the ordinances of a dictator of order in human inner life.

This book has gripped the souls of millions. In the hand of one reader it is nothing. But in the hand, in the mind, of a master of spiritual exercises it is an incomparable instrument of metamorphosis, a method of dying in order to live. Nobody who has not personally experienced its meaning knows what it is. Its objective, to be attained during four weeks, is made visible at the very beginning: the Divine itself is stressed as the purpose and end of all existence. In images of both mercy and terror, God's work of salvation for mankind is made to pass before the deeply moved imagination of the listener. When he has been filled to the brim with awareness of the gentle but stern majesty of the Eternal One, he is led to reflect upon his own existence, his nothingness, his misery. He is then confronted with the ghosts of guilt that rise out of his own past, and is shown the way toward that new life in and with the Church that is his sole salvation. The greatest possible indifference to every-day joys and sorrows, to health or sickness, to riches or poverty, to honour or contempt, to a long life or a short life, is to produce the highest possible eagerness to lead energetically a life devoted to the honour of God. If you free yourself from the ego and from the world, you will conquer both as you INTAKE JERUSALEM

should! Loyok did not awake images and reflections for their own sakes, but only as instruments to serve the will and the action which that will had in rnind from the beginning the liberation from tendencies to disorder, restoration to the order designed by God, and realization of the maxim that man must "become what he is." Loyola also utilized German mysticism in forging his weapons. But being a Spaniard, and therefore always a cherub and a stoic at the same time, he produced at last something uncannily like cold steel which emits sparks when it is struck.

The objective to which the young association was dedicated was mis- sionary work in the Orient. If this proved to be out of the question, the members were to place themselves at the disposition of the Pope. The missionary plan did not materialize; but service to the Papacy was there- by all the more assured. In Venice Ignatius saw men of the Counter- reform working beneficently in the confessional, in the pulpit and in hospitals. Thereupon he transformed his own circle of companions into a society of priests pledged to serve the home missions. This Society has been well characterized as a kind of Catholic Salvation Army under the supreme command of the Pope. While proceeding to Rome in 1537, Loyola gave his spiritual soldiers the name of Company of Jesus. Upon entering the city he said to his companions: "I see that many windows are locked." He had a premonition of difficulties, and this was borne out by the facts. The little group was suspected by the Inquisition, which believed that heresy and innovation were at work. Though, after the Pope intervened, a formal trial proved the in- nocence of Ignatius, the resistance of the commission of cardinals to the recognition of the new Order had still to be overcome. It was not until 1540 that Pope Paul III confirmed the establishment of the Society in a famous Bull which begins with the martial words Regimini militantis ecclesia. This new army vowed unconditional military obedience to the Pope on the field of home and foreign missions. Very gradually but constantly more noticeably, it gained the con- fidence of the Curia.

Ignatius, meanwhile ordained a priest, was elected General in 1541, twenty years after the mystical experience of Pamplona. The little man went through the streets of Rome with his cane, a spiritual field- marshal. Nearly a decade had still to pass before he completed the


constitution which was to govern his army. Meanwhile St. Francis Xavier had long since gone to India, and the Company had quickly gained ground in both Europe and the New World. Its first objective was the conversion of masses estranged from the Church. Other tasks presented themselves one by one the establishment of schools, the struggle against heresy, primarily the Lutheran heresy, and influence upon the policies of European governments. The character of a chosen legion always ready to do battle for the Papacy in carrying on the Counter-reformation necessarily demanded that the Society take cognizance of political as well as spiritual developments. It carefully selected mature, ingratiating men who possessed quiet energy, ripe culture, unconditional devotion to the cause and military discipline. For this last Ignatius employed St. Francis of Assisi's symbol of a corpse having no will of its own and obedient. The chosen men were to win a victory for the Church in all parts of the world, with all the means of pastoral care as well as all the methods of secular politics, in so far as these were righteous.

In Rome Ignatius himself set an example of the kind of reformer he had in mind. He practiced charity on a grand scale, according to the principle that if one wished to win all men one must be everything each desired. 1538 being a year of famine, he distributed bread among thousands, cared for three hundred poor people in his house, planned the foundation of orphanages, attempted (though in vain) to gather all the beggars of Rome together in a home, erected Houses of Martha to combat prostitution, reformed decadent convents, took an active interest in the mission to the Jews, and harboured the con- verts in his own house. The directions he gave to pastors combined gentleness with prudence. The confessional was to exercise a con- structive, comforting influence; sermons must appeal to the emotions. Fervour of the spirit and fire in the eye would, he held, make more impression on the masses than a carefully worded speech or precocity of diction. From the beginning it was the intention of this utterly maculine character, "to form no relationships with women, excepting those who were distinguished ladies." It was only fire or smoke that proceeded from conversation with women. Nevertheless, despite all his precautions, neither he nor his companions were spared embarrass- ing moments of feminine origin. Throughout his life he refused to


follow the example set by other founders and establish an order of women in accordance with his rule. Later on Mary Ward of Eng- land was to make such an attempt; and though this met with the resistance of Rome, it led indirectly to the establishment of a teaching Order of Sisters. Everyone knows how little the Society of Jesus has refrained from guiding women who could be leaders of men and custodians of the spirit of the Church, but in its methodology of gain- ing influence, the feminine element did not have the last word.

The history of Loyola in Rome, of his attitude to the Pope and the Curia, to the reform movement and the Council, to missionary labours and political policy, merely serves to complete the picture of a man who manifested an almost puzzling combination of mystic, soldier and diplomat. These things impressed themselves upon his Society for all time; and whatever traits, amiable and otherwise, have ever been manifested in the achievements and failures of this Society were al- ready manifest in the personality of its founder. Loyola, the mystic, possessed genuine, immaculate fervour. This he probably expressed most completely in that magnificent prayer which begins, "Accept and receive, O Lord, all my liberty." The tenderest traits of his char- acter were seldom revealed, but then appeared all the more surpris- ingly. He forgave others gladly and easily; he loved flowers, and hesitated to pluck them; when he looked up at the starry sky, he felt a renewed urge to serve God; merrymaking was not alien to him, and once on Monte Cassino he danced the Basque national dance for the benefit of a friend who had pushed ascetic discipline to the extreme. He was always a lover of song, and was happy to see about him people who were jovial and could boast of appetites. Lingering visions brought him unusual energy from out of a higher reality. From these there came his consciousness that God was with him, and with that his power over men. Had it not been for certain natural limitations this mystic would have ceased to be a soldier. Just a few impressions could move his tremendous will, even as a gentle wind moves a great ship if the sails are set to receive it. The logic of cool reason kept watch over his fervour; and no matter through what turbulent waters his soul might go, there stood at the helm a lucid, unassailable common sense. Though he was a man of prayer, he was also a man of energy, restlessly dedicated to a multitude of tasks. For God's battles had


to be fought here and now. Therefore he suffered with two-fold pa- tience men who struck violently about them, loved hot temperaments because of the difficult struggle they fought against themselves, and treasured a strong impulse that was mastered more than the passive contemplation of a tranquil soul. His principle that one must fight temptations and not run away from them is worthy of a soldier. The counsel he gave was: curb your uncurbed ego according to the prin- ciples of Christ, and then place it willingly on the altar of the Church. A passion for discipline and for a strict hierarchical order was associated in this classic exponent of spiritual subjugation with a cool strangeness toward the humanistic interests of culture. Just as the baroque style of his time drew figures and columns into a strange system of motion with grandiose indifference to reality, so Loyola subordinated the world over which he had control to the stylized dictatorship of a uni- fied purposive architecture without regard for the autonomous laws of things in themselves.

Therefore his military point of view automatically became a diplo- matic point of view. More than once there occurs in Loyola's letters a sentence which condenses everything that can be said about him and his Order: "I will enter into everyone's house through his door, in order to lead him out through my door and thus win him for Christ." The counsel that one must be as cunning as a snake is followed by him almost to the verge of disrespect for the other commandment of can- dour. He himself is wholly surrendered to the supremacy of the end to be gained, and to it he subordinates all else as well. He was the phrase "in order to" personified. He weighed everything pedanti- cally, went round and round his objective, was a chess player who pondered all the possible effects of his moves and all the opportunities that might be taken by his opponent, a man with two irons in the fire. A friend of poverty and lowliness, he coveted the favour of the rich and the mighty because the governance of affairs was usually en- trusted into such hands. Because the Pope had fostered the Society, Ignatius closed an eye to the fact that there were many Papal relatives. The same attitude in similar cases was exacted of his followers. He wanted the Society to take conditions and characters as they were in order to make use of them as possible instruments. Though himself naturally a stranger to learning, he recommended study as the road to


official position and influence. He demanded over and above mere obedience, the spiritual subordination not only o the will but also of thought to the superior. In his mysticism of activity, the quiescent values of the spirit had value only as germs of practical action, and reflection was looked upon as merely the motor impulse to an effort. A life of knowledge he evaluated as a religious pragmatist pure and simple; and he insisted that in all theologically doubtful matters his Society must unanimously side with the weightier authority. In deal- ing with men, the system he employed and fostered was true to the pedagogy outlined in his Exercises. He led thought across the fiery zone of a methodically aroused imagination, and on the other hand subjected imagination to an inescapable control by cooling it in the stream of unemotional thinking* Ignatius as he was at last, domi- nated utterly by the purposes of the Church, by the reasoning and planning undertaken by ecclesiastical theocracy, was a politician in the highest, purest sense. The end to be reached is everything; and whatever values may be in themselves, from the point of view of the soul, the mind and culture, they can all be made to serve the highest end, which is the glory of God, the Divine will, which is to become real inside space and time in the form of the Church.

That a mind so political in its point of view and so purposive had another side is not surprising. This side may be described as reserve, distance the unapproachable energy of one who sets things in mo- tion secretly. During the years he spent in Rome, Ignatius had hardly a friend. He kept his plans strictly to himself, like the general of an army. On days when he was suffering he refused to accept the sym- pathy of those nearest to him. Polanco himself, his secretarial right- hand, could not recall that in all the years of their association Ignatius had given an expression of his confidence. The saint had a premoni- tion of his death. He burned his diaries, concealed the sorrows of his soul behind the wall of silence, and died on July 31, 1556 before mourners could assemble at his death bed. His Society is the im- mortal monument to his personality. This has served, and still serves, the Papacy; and often the Papacy has served it. It became the majes- tic annex of the universal Church and permeated the activity, thought and feeling of that Church for centuries. The Basque saint still lives and shows the world its Master, urbi et orbi.


We shall now return to the days o Pope Paul III, who loved the world, and to the Council which convened in a solemn mood at Trent. The real, and finally victorious desires o the majority of the Curia assembled there were in conformity with the spirit of the Jesuit Order. It is true that tendencies once so influential in Basel and Constance were also not missing here, but they did not dominate. An objective was kept in mind from the beginning and was clung to firmly despite all party divisions, crises and upheavals. Two conceptions of the purpose and method of the Council were arrayed against each other that of the Curia, and that of the princes. Which should be dealt with first the cause of heresy, which was the decadence and lawless- ness prevalent in the Church, or the effects of the German revolt and the dissolution of dogma which this involved? The princes gave priority to one, the Pope to another. Moreover the princes demanded that the laity be given a part in the proceedings; but the Curia insisted that the hierarchy alone be empowered to speak. Was the Church to deal with heresy on terms of equality, and to arrive with the aid of an oratorical contest at a reconciliation by compromise? This was the Emperor's desire, and in this spirit religious discussions had been con- ducted in Germany during several years. Rome did not concur, and it could not concur. Reconciling heresy with the Church meant noth- ing else than reconciling the Church with heresy. Since the new Separated Churches had abrogated the very nature of Catholic faith, what purpose could be served by Charles* interreligio imperial** a religion of the juste milieu? Ecclesiastical practice and its reform were of secondary consequence. The things that mattered primarily were principles and dogmas. The very question of method raised at the Council was intimately bound up with the query as to what a Council really was. The principle of innovation was religious indi- vidualism; and the principle of the Catholic Church was the objectiv- ity of religion, included in which was the idea of authority which heresy had undermined. The Church met in the Council in order to solidify its innermost structure. And so its efforts to preserve au- thority constituted the basis on which its work of reform would have to be carried on.

Everything else followed logically from the Church's conception o its nature. To it the Bible could not be what it was to Protestants


the sole source of faith. Could it have blotted out unwritten tradi- tion, the whole development throughout a long historical season, of germs latent in the primitive Church? Did not parts of the Bible itself Jesus* sayings regarding His own and the Holy Spirit's in- dwelling in a Church that was to grow like a tree afford a basis on which faith in the gradually accumulated treasury of teaching could be established? By discussions and decisions concerning justification, the Sacraments and the priesthood, the principle that salvation is mediated through the visible Church was reaffirmed, yes, even more, clearly enunciated* For salvation was viewed as an historical process. In the Visible Church the Invisible Church is incarnate it must be so in view of the divine law that all human and earthly things shall be unities of body and spirit. The decrees of Trent were not revolu- tionary, but the institutional side of the Catholic religion was given a more definitive expression. To the creeds of the renegade Churches, which at first sight seemed to spiritualize religion but in reality also sundered the here and now from the beyond and thus made belief ex- clusively a concern with the invisible, the Council opposed more and more persistently the wise observation that what is out of sight is soon out of mind. It was not unattributable to the powerful influence of the Jesuits Salmeron and Lainez, whom Ignatius had bidden to main- tain an unflinchingly conservative attitude, that attempts to compro- mise with the dogmatic ideas of the reformers were frustrated.

The first period of the Council came to a close in 1547. Anxiety lest the Emperor might utilize the occasion to make himself master of the Papacy was not borne out. During this same year his power was at its zenith; and it seemed as if his troops might succeed in re-estab- lishing the old faith in many parts of the country. The defeated groups had to promise that they would recognize the Council and conform with its decisions. Then there took place an incident which changed the Emperor's attitude. From the beginning Rome had not been in favour of meeting in a German city; and now during the spring of 1547, the spotted fever broke out in Trent. The site now chosen was Bologna, on Italian soil; for since voting in this Council was according to individuals (in Constance it had been according to nations) the Italian prelates were greatly in the majority. The Pope concurred, and the Emperor then abandoned all hope of inducing the


Protestants to appear in a Papal city. He acted on his own responsi- bility at the Augsburg interim, where he maintained Catholic disci- pline as a whole but conciliated the Protestants by granting priest marriage and giving of the chalice in lay communion. It was a futile compromise, but Charles' protests against the transfer of the Council from Germany was not without effect. In Bologna it was decided (1549) to adjourn.

Paul III died, and Julius HI succeeded him. The Vigna di Papa Giulio in Rome was his creation and reflected his spirit. He lavished incredible sums on this luxurious palace and its fountains. Bacchic processions and carousals, voluptuous bodies, comely garlands, enlivened the ceilings of the reception and banquet halls which the brush of the Zuccas adorned. Here the aging Roman Pontiff, once president ot the Council, loved to rest from his labours and troubles. Surrounded by a host of richly attired servants and by a forest of peacock feathers which cooled the air, he was rowed thither from the Vatican bank of the Tiber in a sumptuous barque, and then lifted out into a litter bedecked with gold and soft ermine. Amidst jesting and laughter he was borne into the villa, where he took a refreshing bath amidst marble nymphs half hidden in the green of water plants. Afterward all his favourites joined in a frolicsome feast round a well-laden table.

But though the Pope coveted all the joy of living, he did not slight his office. He reformed the administration of the Curia, encouraged the Jesuits, and at Loyola's request erected the Collegium Germani- cum, an educational institution for the training of priests, in the Jesuit style, who were to reawaken the Catholic spirit in Germanic countries. In addition the Pope, friendly to the Emperor, resisted all the intrigues of France and ordered the Council to go on. It met again in Trent during 1551, but remained in session only one year and minus the French prelates, for the Pope was involved in a war with Henry II. The deliberations, in which delegates of Protestant German princes and cities participated (though in vain), were interrupted when the Lutheran princes rebelled against the Emperor who was then menaced by Maurice of Saxony. By treason this prince gained the upper hand over the aging victorious Emperor, who was in Tyrol in order to keep watch on Germany and Italy. Maurice's object was to destroy the


work of unification proceeding at Trent. Both the Emperor and the Council fled.

During a whole decade the work of the Church Fathers made no further progress. Cardinal Marcello Cervini, the ablest man in the College and president of the Council during the first period, became Pope Marcellus II, but reigned only twenty-two days. Everyone remembers his name because of the Mass Palestrina dedicated to him. This luminous hope of all good men, this dream personified of genuine reformation, gave way all too soon to the despotic Cardinal Caraffa, who ascended the throne as Paul IV (15551559) when he was almost eighty years of age. He lacked much that would have enabled him to imitate his model Innocent III; and the rimes had so changed that they lacked everything which would have enabled them to endure another Innocent. His short pontificate finally ended in tragedy. This founder of the Roman Inquisition, this Italian patriot, was driven by his passionate antipathy to Spain and to the Emperor into an alliance with France which encouraged Protestants and even induced Islam to take up the sword against the Catholic master of the Empire. Simi- larly the Pope, who had emphasized most strongly the immaculate majesty of his throne, succumbed to nepotism. The unworthiest of the lot, his nephew Carlo, he made a Cardinal and entrusted with the political business of the Holy See. The Pope himself said that this nephew's arms were up to the elbows in blood. Through him an al- liance between Pope Paul and the French King was arranged, a com- plete breach with Habsburg Spain was effected, and a war was suffered to break out between the ultra-orthodox King Philip II, Lord of Naples, and the ultra-orthodox Pope.

The Duke of Alba, Spain's Governor at Milan, led the Catholic armies of the Escorial against Rome and the Papal States. The Pope's troops included Protestants who scoffed at what they defended physi- cally. Even the Sultan had been petitioned to send aid. But Alba defeated these armed forces as well as their French auxiliaries, proceed- ing very tactfully. Threatened with a second sack of Rome, the Vatican had to accede to a peace. The Spanish General kissed the Pope's foot in his own name as well as in that of the king, assured him of undisputed possession of the Papal States, but compelled him to sever the alliance with France. Italy could no longer escape the


meshes of Habsburg power; and after Charles V had abdicated, Env peror Ferdinand allied himself more closely with the Protestants.

The Pope had failed as a patriot; toward the end of his days he also began to undermine his own house. His eyes were now opened to the despicable conduct of Carlo. Since he had always surrounded himself with a wall of distrust for others, he was now all the more horrified at learning how he had been betrayed and how he had be- trayed himself. He tore his family out of his heart, and in a gather- ing of cardinals mercilessly suggested that a sentence of death be passed on his nephew. He swore that he had never been aware of the truth; and he professed not to see the aged mother of his one-rime favourite, who lay at his feet. He brought about the downfall of all who had served him; and he set up a box, to which he alone kept the key, into which everyone who wished to complain to him could place a missive. Thus he became the "cleanser of the Temple" and is so portrayed on a medal struck in his honour. Whatever exuded the aroma of simony was now repudiated and reformed. Divine service was ennobled and rendered more solemn by special ordinances. The Jesuits were compelled to let the Pope have his will in matters con- cerning their constitution. With inhuman passion he enlarged the scope of the Inquisition, sharpened its methods, and conferred on it the terrible right to use torture. Innocent men who had proved their mettle were now brought to trial before this institution. He drew up an Index listing heretical and forbidden books, which was so severe that it could not possibly be reconciled with practical life. There was a universal sigh of relief when he died. The Roman people rioted against the Pope's memory, destroyed the building in which the Inqui- sition was housed, tore down the monument erected to him, and vented their crudest scorn on the marble head crowned with the tiara, which had been broken off.

On the facade of the Vigna di Papa Giulio, one finds the images and names of Pius IV and Charles Borromeo. These two men sought to find a happy medium between the Famese and Caraff a Popes and to substitute the spirit of fortiter in re, sttaviUr in modo, for the reign of terror. Devoted to the world, generous, and cheerful, Pius (1559- ,1565) won everyone's affection. He did not interfere with the spirit- ual police of the Holy Office, but he attended none of their meetings*


Nevertheless there emanated from his charitable lips a death sentence probably too hastily arrived at, when he delivered the verdict against the nephews of Julius III, who had been tried on a vast array of charges. Two of them were executed: one was beheaded, and the other (Cardinal Carlo Caraffa) was strangled. It seemed certain that such a Pope would avoid even the appearances of nepotism, but he helped his family, which was of Milanese extraction, to many a rich benefice. Yet among those he favoured there was one for whose sake the Pope's weakness can actually be praised Charles Borromeo. Consecrated Archbishop and Cardinal of Milan at the age of twenty- one, he became a truly great man and earned a reputation for saintli- ness. He inaugurated his life's work by making the Vatican the scene of an active spiritual life, took care that the Papal States were governed more efficiently, and as the shepherd of his own diocese ded- icated himself particularly to those who were poorest and most for- saken. On his official journeys he could be seen climbing on all fours to the highest, most miserable villages of the Alps. When famine and pest raged he remained on the scene, after all the other spiritual and temporal authorities had fled. But the hardships which he en- dured because of his zeal and his love for men caused his death in the prime of life and thus deprived the Church of a great reformer, teacher and ascetic whom the people adored and who may safely be considered the good, yes, even the better genius of the Pope.

To Saint Charles as well as to his uncle the reforms of Trent meant exactly what they did to the Church as a whole. Paul IV had been antagonistic to the Council from the bottom of his soul, but Pius IV convened it anew during the early months of 1562. This third ses- sion lasted nearly two years. The religious revolution had led to abiding cleavages, and the Council now concerned the Catholic world alone. Nevertheless antagonistic points of view, nations and factions clashed resoundingly. The Catholic countries and princes, too, were conscious of a conflict of interests between Church and State; and the conservative spirit opposed every innovation such as the grant of the chalice to laymen, then so widely demanded, and of course also any modification of celibacy. By reason of the great influence of the Jesuits the Papal system triumphed over a minority who wanted to restore to the authority of the bishops the rights and dignities of old.


It also overruled the Gallican demand that the Council be considered superior to the Pope. Thus it was a parliament which decreed the abolition of the parliamentary idea, and professed allegiance to an absolute monarchical authority. Decisive, wise reforms, which cut deep into the life of the Church and of society, envisaged ecclesiastical administration of the cult and cultural activities; but the right to ex- pound these decrees was given to the Pope. It was with deep emo- tions that the Fathers parted company during December, 1563. Soon thereafter the Pope codified the dogmatic decisions contained in the Tridentine Creed and gave a new expression to the projected Index, which remained in force until the close of the nineteenth century. When Pius died in the arms of Saint Charles Borromeo, his sister's son, a Pope of the new era passed away who, according to Ranke, had voluntarily broken with the tradition that the hierarchical order was antagonistic to the secular order. Even so, however, the natural ten- sion between these powers did not cease to exist . . . clericis laicos.

The Council had ended by restoring to the Papacy its full power. But this was also a challenge to the Popes to carry out the program of renewal. And they performed their duty in preserving or winning back for the Church (which remained essentially what it had always been) the spiritual dominion which is proof against changing times. This is the import of the Counter-reformation policy of the Papacy, The antagonists were now the autonomous state, autonomous science, autonomous piety, all of which were related to and also embraced by the spirit of heresy which dominated the new era. One must understand how profound this antagonism was if one would evaluate the work of the Papacy during the rime to come. The dogma of the Church is binding in its entirety because all the parts are related organically to the whole. Movement and evolution in dogma are only the development of a perfection posited at the very beginning, only the historical expli- cation of a reality which transcends history and is eternally implicit. Thus Dante saw it in Paradise, when he fastened his gaze upon the Everlasting Light:

'In its depths I saw all things contained, By love as in one single book restrained What in the world far-scattered pages are.**


The Council could have joined with this same Dante in proclaim- ing, *Te have the Old and the New Testament, and also the Shepherd of the Church to lead ye; and surely these should suffice unto your salvation."

This development, or possibly rather this making plain, of the Church's teaching is effected by. the collaboration of God and man in the movement of history. Error, heresy too, become (as St. Paul said) something that spurs truth into manifesting itself. There are no new dogmas; there are merely new definitions. The Word of revelation makes use of the thought, the conscience and the inner lives of men rich in grace. But the definition of teaching is not arrived at, as it were, by volcanic eruption, but is the result of long effort presided over and scrutinized by sovereign authority. The new is measured by the stable, the living by the traditional, the intuition of a pious soul by the old rule, the personally experienced by common sense, and the right of the manifold by the logic of unity. Thus the Roman Church lives between the immobile stability of the Eastern Churches and the anarchy of opinion that characterizes modern Protestantism* Boundary, dam, support, form, permanent value, the rights of history, the binding authority of what is reasonable and tested by experience, legitimacy, authoritativeness all these are Catholic ideas employed in the battle against the borderless, the shoreless, the moving for movement's sake, the radically doubting mind of Descartes, the arbi- trary, the independence of the individual, the "God in the human breast," and everything else that constitutes a definition of modernity.

The Catholic world could not ignore the fact that times had changed. It saw great entities arise owing their origin to heresy. The Church could not surrender to the new spirit, because she could not believe in this chaos even though it bore splendid fruit, and be- cause she had also seen the splendid fruit of order. Nevertheless for a thousand reasons she dared not fail the new world. To look at the cosmos from the human point of view alone, to leave God out of the picture at least hypothetically this became the great temptation even for believing mankind. The certitude of mysticism, which the sixteenth century had brought forth in Catholic life, could not become everybody's certitude. Doubtless men would wish to believe every- thing they had believed before, if the science of those who delved and


expounded without faith not only did not contradict this faith but even supported it. Jesus permitted Thomas to lay his finger in the Wound and to remain with the others who had believed without proof. And again, since they saw Rome's antagonists err in their struggle and search for truth, men rejoiced in the visible contemporaneousness and solidity of a religion the preservation of the very nature of which had led the Papacy to decline making a spiritual compromise with the apostate half of Europe. A quiet though not untroubled confidence animated Catholics after the rise of the new learning: those who dwelt in the camp of free inquiry, men addicted to an effort that was at bottom godless, would sometime, somewhere, utter the prayer of doubting Thomas and find the content of faith, which is objective truth, for which they were seeking. Rome did not permit the stable world of its teaching to be subordinated to the unending experi- ments of science; and thus it naturally also risked the danger of taking a wrong attitude towards questions having nothing to do with dogma.

After the dismemberment of Europe, Rome was forced to adopt a new tactic in defending what it possessed and in seeking to gain back what had been lost. State policy was separated from religion: yes, the process of secularization went so far that the ancient relationship was reversed, and religion was toyed with as a political instrument. The Roman principle of authority could not have more deeply violated consciences than did the Protestant principle of freedom, which in J 555 proclaimed that the sovereign had a right to determine the reli- gion of his subjects. A paradox had thus become a fact. The slogan of a man's innermost right to self-determination had brought about a situation in which what is holiest and most personal was subjected to that power which is most external the will or the whim of a human being.

Nevertheless this power was a verity with which Rome had to reckon. Since it was the duty of the Church to exist, it was likewise its duty to exist under the circumstances in which the debate now took place. The end for which the Church existed and worked de- pended upon political means, open negotiation and secret diplomacy, for its realization. It was only after an agreement with the temporal powers had been reached that missionaries could go out and preach.


Propaganda needed a diplomat as much as it did a pulpit orator. Charlemagne had cleared a path for the Church with the sword. The Popes of the Counter-reformation made use of the advance-guard of their diplomats and agents at the Courts. The Nuncios began their well-planned but soon hated activities, and the confessors of Catholic princes and political leaders whispered and acted behind the scenes. All the arts of sail-trimming were employed in order to get across the sea, regardless of whether the wind was favourable or whether there was merely a breeze. Now the spirit of Loyola had its great oppor- tunity and its age of glory. "The Janissaries of the Holy Father" were also the most imperturbable agents of Curial policy during the era of the Counter-reformation, No matter what they may have failed to accomplish or what they may have ruined, the fact remains that when one regards their work from a sufficient distance one sees that they played in a tragic drama. For the sake of what was holy they involved themselves so deeply in what was unholy that scandals were bound to come . . . and woe to those by whom scandal comes! Georges Goyau says that the Jesuits smoothed off certain corners on the Catholic edifice without removing a single stone. By way o making concessions they often gladly sacrificed the relative to the absolute; and when tempted by the hope of success, they also stressed the relative to the point of sacrificing the absolute. They were the most glowing defenders of Roman doctrine, and yet they were some- rimes to enkindle in wholly candid minds a feeling of tension, even of hatred, towards Rome, One does not know them all, the Jesuits, if one holds the same view either good or evil of them all. French disciples of Loyola flattered their kings by declaring that a monarch had no master above him on earth save God. But though Suarez did not proclaim tyrannicide legitimate as did his fellow Jesuit Mariana, he nevertheless terrified the parliament of Paris by opposing to the absolutistic theory of James I of England the teaching that sovereignty is conferred by society and that revolution is lawful when directed against princes who disregard either the contractual agreement between the sovereign and his people or the laws of natural reason. As a buffer state between king and Pope, the Order of St. Ignatius could not escape meeting the natural fate of such states. We shall see how this was visited upon the Jesuits.

PIUS V 283

The strange chiaroscuro of the Catholic Restoration also dims the figures of its Popes. In Pius V (1566-1572) one finds, for example, traits that to a modern mind are irreconcilable. He had entered the Dominican Order when he was hardly more than a boy. Through- out life he remained a genuine mendicant monk, simple, pious, kindly, benevolent and forgiving. The young brother who made every jour- ney on foot with a kit-bag on his back became an impoverished car- dinal, a Pope of few wants, and a man who always touched the hearts of the people as he walked barefoot through the streets in processions. But the great and dangerous idea that he was an instrument of Provi- dence took possession of him. The zeal that consumed him was to consume others, too. He insisted on Church discipline to an extent that was almost rigorous; and in carrying out a will which seemed to him the will of God, he could be hardhearted to the point of cruelty. The substance of all his wishes was to transform the world in accord- ance with the decrees of the Tridentine Council. Heresy was a crime in his eyes, and therefore he also regarded the heretic as a criminal. The social injury wrought by the religious revolution was so tremen- dous to his inquisitorial conscience that he did not take into considera- tion at all the persons and personal characters of the guilty. It was his wish that the Inquisition should not only suppress heretics who spoke or were silent, but even those who did not know they were here- tics. It was under his reign that Pietro Carnesecchi, once the in- fluential secretary of Pope Clement VII, was beheaded and burned on a charge of favouring die Reformation. Even one of the great men of the Council, the Pope's pious and magnanimous fellow Dominican Carranza, Archbishop of Toledo, was thrown into a Roman dungeon. Since the Reformation was making progress in England, he hurled the anathema at Queen Elizabeth, declared her deposed, released her subjects from the oath of loyalty, and so brought about the unfortu- nate persecution of all Papists as a sect dangerous to the state. Ger- many enjoyed a great deal more consideration and moderation because the powerful and influential apostle of the Counter-reformation, Saint Peter Canisius (a Jesuit born in the Netherlands) guided the arm of the Pope. There were many who wished that he had more such men at his side. Exaggerating rather than weakening the Roman claims of the Middle Ages, the Pope made the Bull Ccsna Domini a col-


lection of sentences o excommunication, which had expanded during the centuries a code of ecclesiastical criminal law. Even Catholic states, though it is true they were such which, like Spain and Venice tended toward a State Church, protested against this action.

Great visions do not grow from little visions, nor do they visit peace- ful and harmonious men. Pius V proved himself half a Don Quixote when he crowned the anachronism of his pontificate with a deed of secular importance. Always he saw Europe not as it was, but as it ought to be according to his plans; and often the fact that the goal he sought was unobtainable wearied him and made him contemptuous of man. But his greatest political intuition, which was nothing short of an order that history reverse itself, was borne out by fortune. This was his Crusade against Islam. Already for decades France, as the protector of the Holy Places in Syria, had flirted with the people of Mohammed. Diplomacy had become accustomed to look upon Cross and Crescent as political factors having an equal right to exist, but the Pope was still a man of the Middle Ages and thought and acted otherwise. Like Pius II he looked upon the Moslem as the inevitable and eternal enemy of the Christian order, the law of the West. He refused to debate the matter with the powers and per- suaded Spain and Venice to join with the forces of Italy and the fleet of the Papal States in the attack which at Lepanto destroyed Ottoman rule in the Mediterranean. This victory encouraged the dying Saint to feel confident, when in his last days on earth he knelt once more to kiss the steps of the Scala Sancta, that the Papacy which had as- sembled the Christian galleys to war against the infidel would also overpower the anti-Christ of heresy.

Gregory XIII (15721585) was only half fitted to inherit the spirit of his predecessor. He took life far less seriously, and had become the father of a natural son before entering the priesthood. Now, under the influence of the Jesuits and the Theatines at his court, he adjusted his conduct and his outlook to the increased strictness of the demands that were made upon the Papal dignity. These his pedagogues were rewarded an hundred fold. Twenty-two colleges of the Society of Jesus owe their foundation to him. The renovation of the Collegium Gennanicum and the Collegium Romanum, which still clings to the name of Universitas Gregoriana in so far as its highest department is


concerned; the foundation o the English College, in which Loyola's Order trained priests ready to endure martyrdom for the Catholic defense and offense on the other side of the Channel; the Greek Col- lege, erected to serve the idea of winning back the Schismatics, and therefore staffed with Greek professors granted an indult to use a special rite; all these were his achievement. The money was taken from the treasury of the Papal States. "Every day," says the chron- icle, "old papers were examined in Rome, and every day new claims were made." But the use of force in order to levy taxes greatly ex- cited those who were affected; and under the protection of the nobles, victims of many a confiscatory action, the peasants mustered stiff op- position and the bandits took the law into their own hands.

The great theme of the Curial policy was the strengthening of Catholic powers against the monarchs who in England, France and the German countries upheld the Reformation. Spain and the Jesuits were used in all the attempts at Restoration, in so far as they did not for their part use the Papacy as a lever.

The political alliance between France and Reformation Germany had opened a new door to the new faith. Those French nobles or burghers who were of German descent adopted Calvinism and its idea of a corporative republic. The antagonism they created within the state came to a head under the Regency of Catherine of Medici. Niece of a Pope, she had joined forces with the Catholic family of Guise and her own husband's mistress in a plan to persecute the here- tics. Into these dark, smudgy depths of love affairs, egotistical ambi- tions and pseudo-religious impulses, Huguenot blood also flowed dur- ing St. Bartholomew's Eve, 1572, in Paris. The Vatican had had no part in this affair. But it was jubilant when misleading reports de- clared that a victory had been won for the Catholic cause. The Pope celebrated the event with a Te Deum and a procession, and ordered a memorial medal to be cast. The ethical attitude towards politics was the same in both camps. Admiral Coligny, the most important vic- tim of the massacre, had not intervened to prevent the murder of Duke Francois de Guise, though he had known it was to take place; and after- ward he praised the assassination as a supreme good fortune for France while Beza, the Calvinist theologian, lauded the murderer as the arm of a rescuing God.


If Gregory had been a prince like other princes, even his attitude toward Queen Elizabeth o England might be condoned with a refer- ence to the morals of that time. But he was Pope and therefore summoned above all to break with the curse of the time rather than with the teaching of his Master, who in Gethsemane had bidden Peter put the sword back into its sheath. It is understandable that he should have urged Philip II to invade England; but, in recommending that brutal murder serve as the instrument by which the Church could win against the Queen, he degraded the Papacy with an act of political stupidity.

In northern Europe, the Jesuits acted during this rime as very docile representatives of Papal diplomacy. Gustav Vasa had compelled his people to accept Lutheranism, but one of his sons, John, strove to re- store the rights of the ancient Church. Armed with a commission from Pope Gregory, Antonio Possevin, a widely experienced diplomat, scholar, and master of pedagogy, negotiated at John's Court in Stock- holm. This disciple of Loyola dressed like a nobleman, wore a sword at his side, and carried a halberd under his arm. The King became a Catholic, but his people remained Lutheran. Not long afterward Possevin was in Russia trying to bring about a union with Rome. He failed in this, but none the less brought about an armistice between Ivan the Terrible and Stephen Barthori of Poland, and then induced Polish Catholics and schismatic Christians to join in making common cause against Islam.

The least bellicose achievement of this Pope has done most to im- press his name on the pages of history. This was his reform of the calendar, which the Council of Trent had already discussed. In agree- ment with Christian princes and universities, he decreed (1582) on the basis of preliminary studies carried out by a commission to which a German Jesuit also belonged, that the difference between the civil year and the astronomical year, which was a legacy from the Julian calen- dar, was to be ironed out by denominating the i4th of October the 1 5th, and thereafter skipping three days in 400 years. The Protestant rulers opposed astronomy in the name of hatred of the Papacy. There resulted a confusion in the business of daily life which ended only in an enlightened eighteenth century, which was friendly to reason even when this emanated from a Pope.


Michaelangelo's dome above St. Peter's Cathedral was finished in 1590. The most majestic crown which ever a metropolitan city wore seems to reach heaven without leaving earth. The reality which it symbolizes has never faded, is alive and forever in consonance with it- self. When the silver trumpets blare down from under its mighty span, they stir hearts which beat in unison with the dead of many gen- erations and with millions of living brethren who in all parts of the world profess the same faith. Pope Sixtus V at whose order the dome was completed, had once been a lowly shepherd boy, and as a Pontiff loved to look at the many roofs outside his window. With Browning he could have said: "How good is life, the mere living"; but he also loved to rule over the living. The successors to his throne, the best of whom have given it increased significance and the worst of whom have not been able to destroy it, have witnessed until now no revolu- tion.

Not far from Madrid the monotonous grandeur of the Escorial rises up over a vast, bare landscape. In this palace Philip II gave form to his idea of world empire but also to his own emotionless, stiff, cold spirit. One is shown a poorly furnished room in which the monarch sat, with his infected leg high up on a support, in an arm-chair under Cellini's great crucifix, and followed divine service at the high altar through an orifice in the wall. The worldly head of the European Counter-reformation could there reflect upon ambitions that had come to naught. The Netherlands had cast off his bloody rule, the ships of the Armada, cumbersome behemoths, had gone out to do battle against the Protestant England of Elizabeth but had been dashed to pieces by the storms. His attempt to establish his own dynasty in France had failed. The Escorial is today a monument to a dream that did not come true.

Visitors to the Palace of Versailles are shown a window from which Louis XVI proclaimed his willingness to bow to the revolutionary will of his people. That day marked the end of the glory which had be- gun with France's victory over Philip, at a rime when a Franco-Spanish league had sought to tear the land asunder from within. Hard pressed.


Henry III summoned the Protestant Bourbon Henry of Navarre to his aid; and when he himself was murdered, this same Bourbon ascended the throne in 1589 as Henry IV. He quelled the fighting between the religious factions, healed the wounds of a thirty-year-old civil war, granted the Huguenots freedom of religious worship by the Edict of Nantes, and welded the now united national forces together in oppo- sition to the common Spanish foe. But the great achievements of his reign, the strengthening of the crown against the power of the Dukes and the escape from the threatening absorption of France into the Spanish world empire, could not have succeeded had he not been con- verted to the Catholic Church in 1593. When he fell in 1610 by the hand of Ravillac, national France was also a Catholic power. Two princes of the Church, Cardinals Richelieu and Mazarin, managed, un- der the kings who followed Henty, to defend the crown against domes- tic peril at the hands of the nobles, and against foreign peril at the hands of the Habsburgs. Louis XIV, Le Roi Soleil, clung to the straight course of their policy. His generals led France to power and super-power of a kind Europe had not seen for centuries. But under this absolutism the inner energies of the state, of society, industry,- and of spiritual life were drained. France profited as little from the spirit of Versailles as did the other European states. This Palace of Pleas- ures has since met the same fate that history meted out to its sombre rival, the granite, monastic palace of Philip on the bleak, raw Sierra of Guadarrama.

What attitude did the Papacy adopt toward this wrestling bout between Catholic powers? How did it escape the danger of becoming the vassal of the one and the enemy of the other?

Pope Sixtus V had, as Felice Peretto, herded his father's swine and had then run off to the Franciscans in order to learn how to read and write. He was born in the year Pope Leo X died (1521), and had been a witness to the debate between the Renaissance and the Counter- reformation. He seemed to have reconciled both in his person. From 1551 on he exercised vast influence as a Roman pulpit orator; and those who desired reform the Zelanti met in his cell, among them being Ignatius of Loyola, Charles Borromeo, and Philip Neri. Pope Pius V made him a cardinal and his personal confessor. During


the reign of Gregory XIII, who had been his opponent, the energies of this indefatigable man were divorced from public life. When he received the tiara they gushed forth again as might a fountain once covered over by a fallen wall.

The Pope swept the Papal States clean of grafters with an iron broom. On the very day he was crowned, four young persons paid the penalty for carrying small-arms, which had long since been for- bidden, on the gallows at San Angelo's. Neither they nor any of the countless others whose heads were seen dangling from poles, trees and fountain monuments in fields and forests, towns and castles, were helped aught by the intercession of the great or the lowly. Similarly he cut in half the army of Sbirri, paid robbers whom his predecessors had mustered; for he invented a system by means of which he cap- tured bandits with bandits. If one of them turned over a fellow in crime to Papal justice, he himself went scot free; and if he then con- tinued his trade either the same fate was meted out to him by another of his tribe, or he was caught in the meshes of the Sistine police. The Pope had set a price on the head of every robber, and this the family or the community to which the criminal belonged had to pay. More- over the towns and magistrates in which damage was done had them- selves to make this good. Thus the inhabitants of the Papal States were mobilized in their own interest, and agreements reached with bordering states rendered it impossible for the bandits to escape. This ruthless system of justice created order and security inside of two years, and the Pope was greatly pleased when ambassadors passing through the Papal States praised both newly acquired assets.

Sixtus obtained the moneys required for the building he did in the Eternal City from fields that were again peaceful, from the resurrected practice of selling offices in the Curia and in the State (which practice the Council arid the theologians combatted in vain), from taxes in- creased to the breaking-point, and from the great savings that accrued from transforming the Papal court into a domicile of monastic sirrt- plicity. He had found the treasury empty because the sums ex- pended by his predecessors for buildings and wars, for the Catholic cantons of Switzerland, for the Jesuit foundations in Rome and throughout Europe, and for help against the Huguenots from the Kings of France (nothing more could be expected from Spain after


the bankruptcy of 1575) had greatly exceeded the income. The pains taken to replenish the treasury were as great as those spent on rebuild- ing the city. It was, of course, at the cost of irreparable damage to the monuments of antiquity and primitive Christianity that he constructed great aqueducts, the new Lateran palace, the present residence of the Pope, and the Vatican Library. He ordered the completion of the Dome of St. Peter s, and the erection (despite infinite difficulties) of the obelisk of Caligula on its present-day site in the centre of St. Peter's Square. This monolith had once stood in front of the Egyptian Tem- ple of the Sun in Heliopolis, and had then witnessed the races and the martyrdom of Christians in Nero's Circus. By order of the Pope it now bore the inscription, Christtts vincit, Christus regnat, Christus imperat.

Sixtus V is also customarily numbered among the Popes who paid heed to politics and finance. Yet these two matters were not his sole concerns. It was not merely as a builder but also as a reformer of the Curia (which even at the present time is essentially the same in structure and organization as it was when he died) ; and as the founder of a special printing press for the publication of ecclesiastical authors and of the Latin Bible of the Church (Vulgata) he left the imprint of his genius and determination upon the life of the Church. Giving labels to the Pope was something Sixtus already disavowed. "Rome," he wrote in confidence, "sometimes changes usage and methods ac- cording to the individual desires of a Pope, but at bottom it alwayt remains the same. . . The princely testimonials of submission to and reverence for the Holy See are wasted." Thus he was really first and last a politician, who utilized his connections and accepted favours without binding himself to anything.

It was the European concept of the balance of power which de- termined his use of the Papal power. He imposed the ban on Henry of Navarre who despite his "conversion" had again tended toward Protestantism; but the fact that he thereupon established closer relations with Spain, which was fostering a Catholic league in France, was actuated by a hope that he could recover England and the Nether- lands for the Catholic Church. He needed King Philip and he used him cautiously, as a dangerous instrument. This monarch, who was like a Pope in his own country, and could get along without Rome so


far as the Spanish Church was concerned, remained forever incon- venient but none the less sometimes a welcome supporter. The Pope expressed a fear that the Holy See would have to pay Spain's debts in heaven; but when the great blow against England, to which he himself had urged Philip, had failed, and when France seemed to cling to a Catholic policy, the Pope assumed an attitude of watchful waiting toward the league. The Holy See must not be tied to one nation alone. Spain, however, demanded that the Vatican formally disavow Henry and his followers. Stormy sessions between Sixtus and Oli- varus, Philip's ambassador, followed. The Pope adhered to his pro- gram: "We wish to restore peace in France, but without enslaving it to alien ambition." The time was in all truth past when Catholic dynasties served the Pope for the sake of the Papacy. Though the House of Habsburg remained the protector of the Vatican, it never in doing so transgressed against its own interests. Contrary to Six- tus' hopes the Bourbons failed to respect the obligations involved in the tide of "Most Christian King." Henceforth it was to be the difficult business of the Vatican not to put the Church at the disposi- tion of one of the Catholic houses struggling for hegemony in Europe. The three following pontificates were still dominated by Spanish influence. Then there came Clement VIII (15921605), a distin- guished Florentine of the House of Aldobrandini, and with him the French question was solved. Henry's return to the Church of Rome re-established the balance of power between the two rulers of the West and allowed Papal policy a freer reign. Liberated from the Spanish bondage, Clement could bring about a peace between the monarchs in 1598. Spain's dominance was surrendered completely to France un- der Philip III. Now the king who had become a Catholic soon found occasion to bring the lilies of France into renewed favour at the Roman Court. He aided the Pope to acquire a fief left vacant when the Duke of Este-Ferrara died without children. Under the Papal rule, the flourishing aesthetic activities of the court and city where Tasso had loved, suffered and sang, sank into elegiac stillness. But now in Rome (1600) Giordano Bruno, the fantastic, philosophizing prophet of a God who does not exist, ended his stormy and harassed life in a fire lighted by the Inquisition. This foe of every convention and every certitude stood and fell at the close of the Renaissance as a sym-


bol of the decomposition of those energies which the time had struggled to unite. Neither from within nor from without did there come to him the saving hand that could have given order to the chaos which he himself was, and which he sought to spread everywhere he set foot on the road between Naples and Oxford. Nor could the seven years which he spent in prison induce this former mendicant friar to return to the Church. On the pyre he turned his face away from the crucifix. Thus the Inquisition, after a long and patient trial, gave another widely influential martyr to that anarchy which calls it- self liberty.

The spirit of Luther no less than that of Loyola compelled the Popes to be on their guard and to proceed on their way uprightly, proof against the inquiries of tlic \voild. Since the days of baroque art there have been no wicked Popes, and few one would hesitate to num- ber among the good. Paul V (1605-1621) a Borghese, wore the tiara as earnestly as did Clement VIII and defended its claims to the verge of sternness. Though his mind was fully awake, he dreamed once again the dream of the unity of power; and the most determined opponent he met in this effort was Paolo Sarpi, a Catholic, a priest and a religious. The Pope was embroiled with all his Italian neighbours, particularly with Venice. Questions concerning jurisdiction, the levy- ing of taxes upon the clergy by the Republic, the damage done to the Venetian printing presses by the growing number of forbidden books, Papal disfavour to liturgical tomes published by the city's famous ed- itors: these and other matters which concerned more deeply the rights of the Church were the reasons why the conflict arose between a too-aggressive Curialism and an arrogant state church.

Councillor to the Republic in religious matters was the Servite monk Sarpi, author of a history of the Council of Trent which is rich in both esprit and malice. A man of calm intellect who had studied logic with the help of the rising natural sciences, he was one of the friends and teachers of the young Galileo. He fought against the ex- cesses of the Papal power which, he maintained, had during the course of time made boundless inroads into the rights of the episcopal office and of civic independence. As a vigorous defender of secular au- thority, which in his view was subservient within its own sphere to no other sovereign save God alone, he encountered Roman theory as


expounded by the Pope and by the Jesuit, Saint Robert Beilarmine, This theory, he declared, led logically to the dissolution of all secular sovereignty and even of princely power. Venice, represented by this fiery attorney who hated Rome, refused to alter its laws or to extradite the offending priests about whom the struggle really centred. The Pope imposed the ban and the interdict. Sarpi, who was secretly affiliated with the Reformation, wrote a treatise on the theology of the state which gave the boldest expression to reformation ideas. The Doge and the Senate remained firm, and in obedience to their will the clergy also continued to officiate. But the new Orders in the Repub- lic, including the Jesuits, submitted to the Pope; and pursued by the police, they left the city of the lagoons in a few barques. Despite the interdict Venice celebrated the Church feasts with more than usual splendour; and thus the breach seemed almost irreparable. The Cath- olic powers were compelled to intervene lest there be war. The Pope had to content himself with a laconic profession of friendship on the part of Venice, and the Jesuits remained exiles from the city. But a compensating source of comfort for the Pope may well have been the signs of the deepening of Catholic life in those years for example the activity of St. Francis de Sales, Bishop of Geneva, and the rise of new Orders which Pope Paul himself could still confirm.

The retreat of this Pope before the political autonomy of a neigh- bouring state almost seems a prologue to the role of the Papacy in the Thirty Years* War. Like all the religious energies bound up with this tremendous struggle, the Papacy was neither a mover nor a guide of events, but only a means which the parties used to serve their own ends. At the beginning of the seventeenth century the imperilled Catholic Imperial princes saw themselves threatened by a singularly composite coalition against the House of Habsburg. This stretched all the way from Paris to Constantinople, and its allies were France, which was governed part of the rime by cardinals, the Netherlands, the German Calvinists (above all the restless, booty-loving Prince Electors of the Palatinate) , the Calvinist princes of Bohemia and Aus- tria, the prince of Siebenbuergen, and the Turks. When the War began in 1618, Paul V sent handsome sums o money to Emperor Ferdinand and the Catholic League, celebrated the Habsburg victory


at Prague with a Church service in Rome, and, as a result of a stroke suffered while he marched in the procession, died hoping that a new Catholic unification o the West would be effected. But the devasta- tion of Europe ended with the realization that both confessions were invincible, and that the dream of a Spanish world Empire was over. The powers reached a peace without giving heed to the protest of the Curia against the losses inflicted upon the Church. With the close of the century the second epoch of a universal Papacy was also at an end: the magnificent attempt by the Counter-reformation to enfold the whole of Europe once more in the unity of the Church and its cultural program had failed. Catholic countries, too, fell during the subsequent age of absolutism into subservience to the state and bothered very little about the will or the advice of the Vatican Sovereign as they lived en through the twilight diffused by their ruling princes. But even so the Pope did not cease to govern the Church, nor did the Church cease to grow exteriorly when it could not take deeper root; and some- times out of the depths themselves out of the misery of hearts laden with care there came a cry for faith and for the decisions of Papal authority. Missionary activities, the struggle with absolutism, and the religious movements inside the Church were the major con- cern of the pontificates of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.

Gregory XV (16211623), himself a tired old man, was fortunate enough to be able to entrust Papal affairs to young and diligent hands. His nephew Lodovico Ludovici, a cardinal of princely bearing, was responsible for almost everything accomplished during this brief reign. In exchange for Rome's help in gaining for him the title of Prince- Elector, the ruler of Bavaria presented the rich library of Heidelberg to the Vatican. And the finally completed Basilica of St, Peter's with Maderna's facade served, as did later on Bernini's double colonnade which opens like arms spread wide to welcome the world, as a symbol of the confident hope with which the Papacy now undertook the con- quest of continents across the seas, despite all the losses suffered north of the Alps, in both Eastern and Western Europe. The work of the "Propagation of the Faith" had been inaugurated half a century pre- vious; but now Girolamo de Narni, the great Roman preacher and Capuchin, conceived the idea of developing this institute into a centre for all missionary activities.


The Congregatio de Propaganda Fide (1622) looked upon the whole earth as its territory. The hierarchically destitute regions of England, Ireland, the Netherlands, Northern Germany, Scandinavia, and above all the countries o the New World and of Eastern Asia were entrusted to it. The authority of the Papacy had been so great even under the Borgias that Spain and Portugal had invited Alexan- der VI to arbitrate in 1493 their quarrel over the disposition of lands discovered by Columbus. The Pope drew a boundary line from pole to pole, one hundred ten miles west of the Azores. Both countries received from Rome the right to be the patrons of all missionary foundations within their colonies. Everyone knows the sad part played by the Christian conquistadores, and also by many monks who figure in the history of this missionizing work. Pope Paul III had to summon to mind the human rights of the Indians; and during the sixteenth century Las Casas, the fiery Dominican, had to make seven trips to Spain in order to defend the Christianity of the Cross against the Christianity of the Catholic Crown. Jesuit missionary activity in the New World (in Paraguay, where Christian communism throve according to the Utopian plans of St. Thomas More and Campanella) , in Indo-China and in Japan (where the adjustment of the new to the old seemed for a time to involve the merging of religions) re- mained on the whole a torso despite all the heroism, and all the daring and cunning, of the methods used in colonization and civilization. If nothing else had been accomplished but the signal service rendered by the Propaganda to the study of peoples and languages, the incal- culable expenditure of energy would not have been wasted. The Papacy always realized that every missionary activity, whether domes- tic or foreign, cannot prosper without the personal heroism of the few. It canonized or beatified the most successful of these heroes of the Counter-reformation: Ignatius Loyola; his magnificent fellow-Jesuit, Francis Xavier; Teresa of Avila, who both as a mystic and a re- formatrice was a woman of genius; her fellow religious, John of the Cross, who is the classic expounder of Spanish mysticism; and Philip Neri, to whom Goethe paid his glowing tribute.

The wishes and demands of France and its Church exacted more and more attention from the Vatican Chancellery. Richelieu, ten


times more Frenchman and royal minister than priest and cardinal, determined the conduct of both state and Church in France. He sub* dued the particularistic nobles and likewise put an end to the political power of the Huguenots. Then he combed the lands and the seas for rivals of the Habsburgs and therewith also servants of his own country. Among these were the German Protestants. In so far as was compatible with his fear lest a North German and Scandinavian alliance constitute a great political power, he supported Gustavus Adol- phus against the Emperor. When the Swedish monarch died on the battlefield, Richelieu himself took the leadership of the anti-Imperial party. The Pope endeavoured to bring about an understanding be- tween Habsburgs and Bourbons; but out of deference to France he defined his neutrality ail too strictly. Concerning this his own Curia said indignantly that the King of Sweden displayed more zeal for Lutheranism than did the Holy Father for the faith which alone can save. Thus nothing was really done to stave off the last phase of the struggle the Franco-Swedish war, which had such dire con- sequences for Germany and the Church. None of the millions which Sixtus V had hoarded in San Angelo's reached the Catholic party.

The Pope in question was Urban VIII (1623-1644), a Barberini, whom the splendour and riches of his princely house interested all too greatly. On his study table there were peacefully assembled plans of fortifications, designs for new cannon, sketches for further Roman buildings, poems he himself had written, and Christian hymns of the early Church to which he had given classical forms modelled on his beloved Roman authors. Under his management the Papal States embraced more territory than ever previously, but the most powerful manorial estates in his jurisdiction were soon in the hands of the Barberini. It would seem that war was that with which he most loved to concern himself; and he entertained a veritable passion for armour, fortifications and moulding cannon (unfortunately out of antique bronzes). In Tivoli a firearms factoiy was erected. The rooms of the Vatican Library were turned into arsenals. Neverthe- less when he tried to cany his theories into effect during a war with Parma, which had been forced on him by relatives, he lost. The soul of this man who loved to call himself the Padre Commune was com-


pounded of contradictions and oppositions. To the Inquisition he allotted the power with which it blackened itself for all time by per- mitting its lawyers to interfere in the rights of the inquiring reason: Galileo, threatened with the torture, renounced as erroneous his de- fense of the Copernican system.

Innocent X (16441655) of the Pamfili family, was obliged to open his reign by placing on trial some of his predecessor's favourites. They were accused of tampering with Papal justice and with the treasury. A saying went the rounds later on that the bees in the Barberini coat of arms had grown so fat because they had sucked their fill of honey during the twenty years of Urban's reign. Nevertheless the accused found a protector in Mazarin, who had a short time previously be- come cardinal and prime minister and who was indebted to their family. They fled to France and the Pope confiscated their offices and goods. Then the French government intervened, the case was quashed, and they were given back all that had been taken from them.

Soon Innocent himself was given reason for not making war on nepotism. Prior to receiving the tiara he had been a cardinal whom everyone respected an active, just man of rich diplomatic experi- ence who was above all criticism; but the imperious will of the woman who now gained control over him was stronger than the goodwill of the seventy-year-old Pontiff. Energy and softness, determination and inability to make up his mind were strangely paired in him. They are revealed in Velasquez's immortal portrait of 1648, with its eyes that speak many things, its long, strong chin, and its refined, inactive hands. Already as a Cardinal he had owed a great deal to Olimpia Maidalchini of Viterbo, his brother's widow, who had brought a great fortune to the house of Pamfili. She knew how to make the Pope pay for it all. Olim pia nunc impia, said the Roman satirists. She became the most powerful personage in the Vatican. Cardinals hung her picture in their rooms, princes and bearers of petitions sought out her favour as a means by which they could attain their ends. Ambassadors visited her first, and courts sent her presents in order to be assured of an audience. Her house well nigh resembled a court for splendour and society; she married her children to rich partners. But as is so often the case with daughters of fortune, she was soon to


have a rival. This woman also bore the name of Olimpia, belonged to the Aldobrandini family, and was the richest heiress of Rome. The quarrels of these women filled the Papal household. When Innocent bestowed his favour on a distant relative and made him a cardinal, the tumult grew by leaps and bounds. The older Olimpia was des- patched; but the younger Olimpia and her husband were so jealous of the Pope's favourite and distant relative that things did not improve. Accordingly the sister-in-law was sent for again to restore order, but she carried on as she had previously and managed to bring about the fall of the hated favourite. After having lost his newly acquired rank, he had to leave the palace.

Innocent suffered, realized that the situation in which he found himself was utterly incompatible with his dignity, but did not know what to do. While he was weighing plans of battle against his clan he was taken mortally ill. As he lay dying he did not own either a spoon or a dish, possessing nothing beyond the shirt on his body, an old bed quilt and a zinc candlestick. Before he breathed his last even the candlestick had been exchanged for a wooden one. Olimpia ap- proached his bed (ad Olimpia piu che all' Olimpo gli occhi del papa) , waited for the final breath, and after the end had come took the Pope's last pennies from under his bed. The corpse was borne on a woebegone bier from the Quirinal to St. Peter's. The cover was so short that the feet protruded. None of the favourites were seen in the little cortege of palace attendants and priests. Three days passed before the funeral. Olimpia did not even want to pay for a wooden casket, excusing herself on the ground that she was a poor widow. The Pope lay in the room in which the Vatican masons kept their tools, stripped of all the pomp in which Velasquez had portrayed him for the benefit of future eras. Out of pity one of the artisans lighted a candle beside the dead man. A stranger paid a watchman to stay with the body and keep the mice away. On the next day, a mon- signor ordered a coffin to be made of poplar wood, and a dismissed rnajorniomo of the Pamfili decided not to repay ill with ill, and gave five scudi to pay for the funeral. Placed on the backs of two donkeys, the corpse was carried after midnight to St. Agnese without any official cortege. This baroque Church, which the Pope himself had built, was to furnish his tomb.


During the next eighty years, no man of exceptional endowments occupied the See of Peter. There was no lack of storms, and during them the idea of the Papacy lost much of its power everywhere in the world; on the other hand, however, it proved its inner strength by withstanding the upheaval in the Church and the world despite the lack of strong Popes. The historian must rivet his gaze not on these Pontiffs but on the events which filled their time and which affect them rather than are affected by them.

Political and religious life were interwoven most closely and often most undesirably, so that clashes with the claims and rights of Rome were frequent. Against the spirit of parity breathed by the Treaty of Westphalia Pope Innocent X had protested in vain at Cologne through Monsignor Chigi, Nuncio to Germany.

Soon there was no dearth of men honestly concerned with bringing about a reunion between the confessions for the sake of peace. Bishop Bossuet in France and the all too confident Leibnitz are examples. In addition, a number of princes were converted to the Catholic faith, among them Queen Cristina of Sweden, the temperamental daughter of Gustavus Adolphus. Therewith the hope was aroused that a more general return to the Catholic Church would set in. This hope did not materialize for many reasons, among which the theological an- titheses were not the most important* Wholly different habits of mind and forms of human relationship to the Eternal had already cut too deep a gulf between the two camps; and princes, politicians and parliaments did everything they could to widen the breach. It was everywhere fully understood that unity of faith is a guaranty of na- tional unity and strength. This insight fostered attempts to root out heresy at home and to foment it in alien lands. The Bourbons were the best allies the German Protestants had: nothing could have seemed to them more undesirable than that the prayers of the Church for the religious unification of the world should be fulfilled. If religion it- self had already become a means for reaching political ends, could it be avoided that the Papacy, too, should become a means to such ends? Perhaps already at the beginning of the seventeenth century there had been conceded to the great Catholic powers the right to veto a Papal election. This claim to the privilege of barring one candidate at each Conclave was adhered to until 19034. It was an encroachment upon


the Church's right to self-government, but the danger involved was not so very great since the absolutistic states had already barred Papal influence on any decisions they took and had subordinated the life of the Church to the Business of the State.

When Alexander VII (1655-1667) he had been the Cardinal Chigi we have met as Nuncio at Cologne ascended the Papal throne despite French opposition and then quarrelled with the Duke of Crequi, a more serious conflict was imminent. The Duke was French Am- bassador to Rome, and added seriously to the problems of Papal justice and police administration when he misused his immunity in order to afford protection to criminals. The Pope's Corsican bodyguard sur- rounded the ducal palace and killed several people during a struggle with the retainers. The King conveyed the Nuncio to France, oc- cupied the Papal fiefs of Avignon and Venaissin, and ordered his troops to march on Rome. The Pope ordered the guilty persons executed, but this was not deemed sufficient. He was compelled to disarm his Corsicans, to exile his own brother from the Papal States, to send two cardinals to Paris to sue for peace, and to erect a pillar in Rome on which the insult and the penalty exacted for it are inscribed.

Cardinal Giulio Rospigliosi of Pistoja, who had been Papal Secretary of State, was raised to the throne as Clement IX with French support and reigned from 1667-1669. He was unselfishly generous, deeply cultured, and greatly averse to loud display; but he was old, and only two years were granted him to govern beneficently a city which felt the pressure of poverty and rising prices, and a citizenry for which, in every part of the Papal States, he sought to care in accordance with the no- blest principles of social welfare. The pastoral appeal of this man of noble character also carried great weight when die "war which Louis XIV declared against Spain came to an end with the Treaty of Aix- la-Chapelle in 1668. When a furious theological debate between the Jesuits and their spiritual adversaries broke out in France (there will be more to say of this later on) his readiness to meet the Jansenists half way effected a beneficent lull in the argument. The Pope's heart was broken when he realized that despite all the support he had given Venice in its wars against the Turks, and despite all his pleas to the Christian powers for grants of aid in this conflict, the loss of Crete to Islam could not be prevented. After he died men realized the truth


of the inscription around the Pelican which he made his symbol Alliis non sibi Clemens. The Sun-king had, as his own ambassador to Rome declared, appointed this Pope as dictatorically as he might have appointed the chairman of a merchant's guild. Thereafter a grave conflict between the state church and the Papacy was inevitable. Gallicanism was as old as France. Louis XIV surpassed all previous bearers of the French crown in carrying out the political rule that the clergy must be kept under control by the Pope . . . while the Pope was being kept under control by a nationalistic clergy. Clement X (16701676) was a Pontiff who favoured Spain. Louis retorted by venting his animosity on a Vatican so openly sympathic with the enemies of France. The Crown had the right to enjoy the income of a bishopric during an interregnum, and to dispense the religious offices at its disposal. This right was now extended to provinces in which it had never previously been enforced. Ecclesiastical posses- sions were confiscated. The king conferred upon himself full powers to tax Church instances for military purposes, and retained moneys due to Romans who possessed sources of income in France. The clergy bowed before the King in filial loyalty. Kneeling beside Madame dc Montespan in the Chapel at Versailles and blending his prayers with hers, he made up by appearing to be a good Catholic for what he lacked to be a good Christian. Harlay advised him to kiss the Pope's feel and tie his hands! Louis followed the second part of the advice much more assiduously than he did the first. But Pope Innocent XI (1676- 1689) , the irreproachable Cardinal Odescalchi of Lake Como, managed to get both hands free. He was a gentle benefactor whom the people venerated as a saint, but he warded off bankruptcy from the Papal States with a firm hand and resolutely took up the gauntlet which Louis had thrown down. He affirmed his solidarity with two bishops who had refused to obey the Gallican edict and had since lived under a torrent of abuse emanating from the King. Soon the issue became still more decisive it was a question of the Pope's rights vis-a-vis the King. The Gallican clergy were astounded when Rome dared to offend die "oldest son of the Church,** and clamoured for a national Council. Louis summoned ecclesiastical delegates from all the prov- inces to a general assembly of the clergy of France. In 1682 this proclaimed the Liberte dc Feglise Gallicane, which Bossuet condensed


into four basic tenets and announced by royal edict. In worldly matters the Pope had no authority over kings; his spiritual power was also subordinate to the authority of general Councils; Gallican rights and customs were inviolable; and finally (this declaration was new) the judgment of the Pope in matters of faith was not unchangeable unless the Church concurred in it. These decisions were declared laws of the state, and all colleges and universities were compelled to swear fealty to them. Anyone who wished to obtain the doctorate had to defend them in one of his theses, but in Rome Pope Innocent burned them and refused to confirm the bishops whom the King ap- pointed. After six years the number of vacant dioceses had increased to thirty-five.

Louis' actions did not meet with the world's approval. Therefore he took occasion to prove his Catholic zeal in another way, and pro- ceeded to root out the Protestants. The nature of a unified state could no longer put up with the separate political organization of the Huguenots, who had their own constitution, their own armies and fortresses, and the right to convene Councils. A King so omnipotent and godlike also took it very much amiss that there should be subjects who considered his faith erroneous. Richelieu had only partly de- stroyed their power, and Mazarin had also suffered them to live in peace. This second Cardinal even declared that his red hat did not prevent him from according recognition to the services rendered by the Protestants. But his royal master entertained the ambition to be a new Constanrine and Theodosius, Little by little he curtailed the room inside which the heretics lived. They summoned courage to resist, forcibly reopened their churches which the King had ordered locked, and gathered round their preachers on the ruins of such houses of worship as had been destroyed. The government answered by sending out bloody dragoons, the missionaires bottes to convert them. Madame de Maintenon, mindful of her Calvinist past, condemned this brutal use of force, and was of the same mind in this regard as the Pope. He said that Christ had not employed this method that men must be led into the temple, and not dragged in by the hair. But the use of arms resulted in such numbers of conversions among those who did not go into exile that the Edict of Nantes could be abrogated

THE as meaningless. The future, however, proved the wisdom of those who had looked upon all this critically. Catholic priests, thought Marshal Vauban, might take things easy because they had none to oppose them or watch them. The haste of these conversions, prophesied Pierre Bayle the philosopher, would have as a consequence the spread of infidelity in France.

Louis' mission to the heretics also did not dispose the Pope favourably to Gallican freedom, and new disturbances deepened the misunder- standing. The abuse of immunity by the French embassy in Rome continued, and as a consequence numerous bandits were abroad again. Innocent declared that henceforth he would recognize only such ambassadors as disavowed this right. Most of the states bowed to the Pope's wish as just, but Venice and France opposed it. The threat of the ban did not prevent Louis' ambassador Lavardin from entering the Papal city with eight hundred men armed to the teeth and demanding lodging for them. But when he insisted upon an audience this was refused. Then Lavardin ordered a High Mass read in the French national Church of San Luigi. The Pope imposed the ban on him and placed the church under the interdict. With numerous followers Lavardin marched into St. Peter's and drove out the clergy. In Paris, the Nuncio was treated like a prisoner. The County of Avignon (then administered by Rome) was occupied once more and the Pope was threatened by an army.

Innocent clung firmly to his conviction in this as in the greater dispute. The danger of a French universal monarchy inside which the Pope would play the part of a foreign minister of ceremonies compelled him to join sides with all the enemies of France. Against the intrigues that came from the West, he brought about a union between Poland and Austria, kept the armies of the Emperor and of Sobieski together despite all the offers of bribes that came from Paris, and gave these armies money which enabled them to beat off the last strong attack of the Moslems. It also worked to the detriment of France when he supported the Protestant invasion of William of Orange into England, which was governed by a ruler who had become a Catholic and had promised the Old Church a new dominion over the Islands. But Pope Innocent preferred to bless the ships of William rather than the head of James II, the absolutist, who was Louis' ally and therefore strengthened French absolutism. James might have added an English schism to that which was brewing in France.

The Pope's firm resistance to Gallican claims was rewarded. Under Pope Alexander VIII, Louis surrendered the ambassadorial right to accord refuge and ceded Avignon. Pope Innocent XII lived to see a change of heart in the Bourbon monarch, who had need of the tiara during the quarrel that broke out between France and the Emperor Leopold over the Spanish succession. Louis now agreed to a reconciliation with regard to ecclesiastical matters. The Gallican articles themselves remained in force, but the obligation to teach them was removed and the appointed bishops were permitted to obtain Papal confirmation. In so far, however, as they had participated personally in the Assembly, they had to demonstrate their contriteness to Rome. For the sake of the support he desired, the King gladly permitted them to confess "kneeling at the feet of His Holiness, their inexpressible sorrow."

The War of the Spanish Succession also spread to the Papal States. The Papacy lost its rights to Naples, Sicily and Sardinia, and later also to Parma and Piacenza. No attention was paid to the protests of Pope Clement XL Throughout the conflict between France and the Habsburgs, there lingered on, sometimes in association with that conflict, a quarrel of eighty years standing over Jansenism* This was enkindled by a book which Cornelius Jansenius of Holland had written in 1640 concerning the theology of St. Augustine. The book delved deeply into problems which had tormented Luther and which still disturb every pious soul problems concerning the extent to which human nature which has been corrupted by the Fall, concerning the power of the will, concerning the efficacy of grace, and concerning predestination. In Jansenius' book the emphasis was placed on tightness of conscience in the innermost soul, and upon a condition of freedom arrived at by surrender a freedom that is really the necessity which compels the will to love the Eternal Law and the Good in itself. Though he approximated to the point of view of the reformers (Augustine was their source and his) , Jansenius and his friend Vergier de Hauranne of Saint Cyran remained on the whole in conformity with Catholic belief. He placed tradition on the same level with the Bible, demanding merely that it be cleansed of non-essentials. Yet this at- tempt at purification brought him into conflict with the penitential commandments of the Church; and he was still more violently at odds with the ethics, the religious practices and the conduct of the Jesuits.

These had all too greatly lightened the burden of Christ and had thus weakened the strength of the Catholic system. In other words, they had lowered the scale of prices in the realm of eternal values. Their casuistry cleverly increased or lessened the law and the penalty for its breach in accordance with the objectives they sought; and their dialectical skill in finding excuses for real sin, as well as in creating sins when there were none, resulted ultimately in the corruption both of those they controlled and of themselves. The many excellent men who were among them could no longer prevail over those who had lost sight of real values or were themselves errant and insecure. In the same France which had once exiled them as a sect dangerous to the state they now lost their way all too completely amid the moral disarray that surrounded the throne. All too strong a reliance upon secular means, on power, splendour, renown and everything which the pious soul frowns on and the saint smiles at, tempted them to form an alliance with the Caesaristic, semi-Asiatic despotism which prevailed at the Court of Louis. The two great objectives of their society — to fight the battles of the Papacy and to keep the mighty of this world within the Church — were confused, to the injury of both. So eager were the Jesuits to render service to the Court that they forgot die duty of rendering service to the higher absolutism of ethical law. How long would Ambrose or Chrysostom have remained in the position which Auger Coton and Le Tellier occupied under French Kings? Of course one realizes that a body of men whose objectives and energies were confided to thousands of educators, missionaries, confessors, scholars and politicians who affected all parts of civil society more deeply even than did the Huguenot state within a state — because their influence upon human inner life was so much deeper and more secret — could also run the risk of error and of misuse of power. But one can realize also that resistance to such abuses was bound to come. Popes themselves, Alexander VIII and Innocent XII, condemned a o6 ROME, THE ESCORIAL, AND VERSAILLES

long series of questionable, ultra-lax statements contained in the moral treatises of the Jesuits. But the Jansenists took the field against them much more vigorously than did all other antagonists, though numbered among these were most of the Orders of the Church, the universities, and the secular clergy whose own rights had been threatened.

Jansenius' book had also attacked the ethics of the Jesuits and their conception of religion. They avenged themselves by ferreting out his weakness in dogmatic theology, and succeeded in getting Pope Urban VIII to forbid the book. It soon found defenders who ce- mented the religious opponents of Loyola's Order into a party. The headquarters became the Nunnery of Port Royal des Champs outside Paris. This house lay in an amiable, quiet valley surrounded by wooded hills. The spiritual family which gathered here throughout years and decades included such members and friends of the house of Arnauld as Saint-Cyran, Pascal, Racine, Tillemant, It affected the fife of France and of Europe as a whole in innumerable ways. That which differentiates this movement of reform from others that have taken place within the Church is an element of opposition. One could be a Benedictine, a Franciscan or a disciple of Ignatius, without engaging in internecine ecclesiastical strife, but one could not be a Jansenist, a disciple and friend of Port Royal, on the same terms. A profound predilection for the inner life here led customarily to mum- bling and to barking back at that which had driven its protagonists to that inner life by annoying and irritating them. Jansenists who adopted the pose of the Publican standing afar off from the altar, hid in their pockets fists to be used against everything which they did not like either in those who served the temple or in the temple itself. The fact that religion had become more of an institution than of a mystical exchange between God and the soul, and a confident enjoyment of the outward guaranties of salvation rather than an obedient, passive con- dition of the soul, aroused the Jansenist to make exceptions to the uni- versal love and humility which he held on principle. In so far as the piety which had taken on unworthy forms under Jesuit management was concerned, the Jansenists had a good deal of sound reason on their side. On the other hand their insistence on being exceptional, on keeping up opposition, and (one must admit) even on hating, arc limitations of their greatness. They went from one extreme to the


other. Carried out to its logical conclusion, Jansenism tumbles from protests against the institutionalism of the Church into a dearth of re- gard for the Church as an institution. Criticizing exaggerated views of the values of reason and the will, it gives an answer which proclaims the bankruptcy of human existence. Pascal wrote his Pensees in the name of the universal human condition of moral nakedness; but though these fragments are immemorable and contain lasting truth, they are nevertheless only a fragment of the whole of religion. His Lettres Provinciates, the attack on the Jesuits which he forged and hammered in the name of all his friends, is no product of the virtues which he thought the Jesuits did not possess. It fails to recognize the eternal validity of principles which they had merely brought into ill repute through misuse and over-emphasis.

The Popes in part the same Popes who had found fault with Jesuit casuistry also attacked the Janscnistic maxims. In Port Royal it was not contended that the Pope had no right to condemn these maxims, but it was denied that the Janscnists had ever held the views which Rome attributed to them. When Alexander VII de- cided that error had really been taught, the Jansenists replied that here the teaching authority was manifestly encroaching on the territory of the qttasstio facti, the question as to whether the intention which had been read out of the condemned statements had really been con- tained in them. The Pope's decision aroused much ill-will among the Janscnists; and under Pope Clement X, Rome retreated. The objectionable statements were as always condemned, but the question as to what the real meaning of their author had been was left open. It almost seemed as if there was to be peace between Rome and Port Royal. Then there was issued an edition of the New Testament with commentaries by the Jansenist Quesnel; and this was endorsed by Cardinal Noailles, later on Archbishop of Paris. This edition rapidly became very popular. The Jesuits attacked it violently, some bishops forbade its use and Noailles got into difficulties over it with both Rome and Versailles. At the King's request, the book was ex- amined anew by the Vatican and was condemned, with the connivance of the Jesuits, by the bull Unigcnitus in 1713. The bitter quarrel over Quesnel and the bull lasted until the Archbishop made an uncondi- tional submission before he died in 1728.


Meanwhile the State, acting on the counsel o the Jesuits, broke up the community of Port Royal, dispersed the nuns, and razed the buildings to the ground just as if they had been an enemy fortress. The meagre ruins which still stand are traces of a civil war fought out between two camps in the Church which, one of them little, and the other big, today still secretly oppose each other.


Toward the middle of the eighteenth century, the great non- Catholic states of Europe had gained the upper hand over Spain, France, Austria and Poland, the Catholic states. Whatever may have been the cause of this reversal, the peoples who now found themselves at a disadvantage began to voice disapproval of "clerical" influence on their affairs, and tore at the bonds which associated them with central Roman authority. While the Papacy was not an important factor in the political antagonisms and the shifting balances of power which characterized the century, it was necessarily compelled to reckon seriously with the change in attitude of Catholic states and govern- ments. This change was bound up with the dynastic history of these countries, above all with the extension of Bourbon power over the thrones of Spain, Sicily, Naples and Parma. The Bourbon family signed a pact (1761) , which obliged these countries to form an alliance with France against England. It also gave expression to a concept of government hostile to Rome i. e., that same enlightened ab- solutism which dominated Austria, Prussia and Russia.

In the new conception of Church and State, Gallicanism, liberalistic philosophy and Jansenism were blended. The secularization of the intellect made inroads on religion, paradoxical though that may seem; and the object was, after having changed the character of religion, to make it serve the natural order. Christianity was adjudged all right as a moral teaching, as a pedagogical influence upon the common people, and as a curb of instincts which if left to themselves would lead to chaos. But it was considered evil if it pointed out a realm beyond reason and nature by giving utterance to dogmas, mysteries, and ideas of revelation and the supernatural life. Through the secret anti-Church of Freemasonry this spirit of a humanism compounded of denatured religious impulses gained an influence upon ruling cabinets, which it hoped to use as instruments for re-educating the masses still loyal to the Church. Later on, of course, this spirit re- acted against governments and monarchs as the spirit of revolution. Every kind of enthusiasm, particularly the enthusiasm of faith, was an- noying to this humanitarian enlightenment; but the fact that it still



favoured a modicum of ecclesiastical reform and respected the truth that man's need to worship God is ineradicable, allied it with many trends in Jansenism, especially those that lay rooted in hostility to Rome. Everywhere at the Courts a conservative and a reformistic tendency were represented, and these clashed most sharply over the question of the Papacy. Many good things are attributable to this liberalisric movement the abolition of serfdom, witchcraft mania, and the use of the torture, as well as of the bitter animosity with which the confessions treated one another. Last but not least, the human spirit was granted the freest possible mobility, so that no out- ward force any longer stood between it and union with Rome and Catholic teaching. Yet in comparison the inner dynamism and rich- ness of the Middle Ages had been incomparably more powerful. There is no more subjectivistic and no more objectivistic man than Augustine; there has never been a more daring "liberal" than Frederic II. No epoch in history reveals such radical antitheses and such a courageous philosophy, ready to carry on despite prison and stake, as do the thousand years of continuous intellectual battle which we call the Middle Ages.

The Popes of the eighteenth century number no Hildebrands or Innocent Ills among them. They did not break, for the reason that they bent like reeds. Their good fortune was their wisdom, and this their wisdom was the good fortune of the Papacy. Innocent XI had ad- dressed the Rot Soleil once more in the sharp language of the mediaeval time. For the sake of the freedom of Church he permitted thirty- five dioceses in Christian France to remain without bishops during six years. The most farsighted minds there realized that churches which separate themselves from the Pope are bound fast by Kings. The Papal decrees were left lying in the customs' offices, and saints who were embarrassing to the monarch were deprived of the cult, yes, even of the feast day. "God Himself," says a contemporary, "is under suspicion as being a rival to the state." Clement XI, Benedict XIII, Clement XII, had to take cognizance of the fact that their Nuncios were banned from Bourbon courts and from Portugal. Jan- senism gained ground in Vienna, Brussels, on the Iberian peninsula, and throughout the whole of Italy. With it there came passionate


antipathy to the Jesuits. The philosophers, declared Voltaire, would not have won their game until they had finished with Loyola. The destruction of the Society became the most coveted prize in Catholic states.

The Kings found men who could buttress their consciences. These had in common an antipathy to spiritual authority Pombal in Portugal, Aranda and Squillace in Spain, Tanucci in Naples, Choiseul and Aiguillon in France. The Society could point to its great achieve- ments: its civilizing efforts in the East and West Indies, the moral improvement that had followed its pastoral labours in Germany, the achievements of its gifted men in the sciences (astronomy and phi- lology above all) , and its schools, which Lord Bacon had termed the best of all educational institutions. But the Society's power was an obstacle to the plans of worldly rulers and even to those of the Popes.

Contemporaries of Ignatius such as Melchior Cano, the Dominican who compared himself to Cassandra before the Fall of Troy, had issued warnings and had been mistaken only regarding the time in which they said their prophecies would be fulfilled. "Es orden dc negocios" it is the Order of state business, said the confessor of Charles V, Al- ready during the century following its foundation, the Jesuit Hoffaeus, representing the upper German Province of the Society wrote: "Our holy father, Ignatius, foresaw that by reason of concern with worldly matters, manifold hardships might befall the Society. This concern not only scatters the Fathers and hampers them in the service of God, but also makes them hated and destroys the fruits of their efforts in behalf of their fellow man. The worst examples and experiences have shown that in this business God is not with us. Whenever we have loaned our services for such things, even though it might be upon request and often quite by force, matters took an evil course, not merely when it was the business of worldly rulers, but even when it was that of the Popes." If the Society were not finally to profit by experience it would certainly meet with God's punishment. In particular (he added) the confessors of monarchs must be counselled to exercise the greatest caution in dealing with temporal affairs.

A century and a half after these voices were heard, Troy really fell. The Kings prodded their ministers, and the ministers got the formula from the philosophers. D'Alembert wrote to Voltaire, "Let us place


no obstacles in the way of the Jansenist spider which seeks to eat up the Jesuits. I these have once been destroyed, then the Jansenisr canaille will die a beautiful death of their own accord." Voltaire, too, saw the future in the rosy light of his dream: "It is not Jansenism which is preparing the way for the downfall of the Jesuits; it is the Encyclopedia, yes the Encyclopedia. I see the Jansenists dying a beautiful death after they have assassinated the Jesuits, and in the year following toleration will be established, the Protestants will be called back, the priests will marry, confession will be abolished, arid fanati- cism will be laid to rest so gently that nobody will realize what has happened.*'

While the catastrophe was hovering over the heads of the Jesuits, they were also deprived of the Pope's friendship. Benedict XIV (1740-1758), more learned than any of his predecessors, above re- proach, of pleasant disposition and keen wit, sought the goal he had firmly set for himself by the route of wisdom and not of force. To the subjects of the Papal States, he was an amiable father of his coun- try. He lowered the taxes, cut down court expenditures, abetted in- dustry and agriculture. He reduced the military budget very con- siderably, used some of the money saved to enlarge the Vatican Library, founded academies for archeology and Church history, and improved the education of the clergy. He also sent a handsome sum of money to Germany to build St. Hedwig's Church in Berlin. He recognized the title of Frederick the Great to the kingly throne o Catholic Silesia, though the Curia had previously refused to concede the point; and he thanked Voltaire cordially for the dedication of his Mohammed. The Rome of his days, where Raphael Mengs and Winckelmann painted, studied and wrote, and where Cardinal Albani functioned as protector of marble gods, heroes, nymphs, sylphs and fauns, began to be the ccntte toward which scholars, artists and lovers of the arts journeyed. Yes, many of them were surprised to behold the successor of St. Peter in the role of door-keeper of a resurrected Olympus. These were the years during which intercourse between Rome and the Court of Augustus II of Dresden, Catholic once again, was constant.

Yet at heart Benedict remained a sincerely religious Pope. The


intellectual liberalism, which permitted him to jest that though he had all truth locked up in the shrine of his breast he was compelled to admit that he could not find the key to it, must be coupled with that deep seriousness of his veneration of holiness which inspired him to write his memorable treatise on the process of canonization, which is so free of all cant. Calm and moderate in his political views, he maintained diplomatic relations with the governments even though the price was a noticeable loss of influence by the Curia. This temperance is displayed in the Concordats with Naples, Sardinia and Spain. State control of the Church was now in vogue; and if he had forced the issue to the breaking point he would have been compelled to reckon with an alliance between the monarchs and the secret societies. But to these, especially Freemasonry, he was opposed from the bottom of his soul. Following the example of Clement XII he condemned them and forbade Catholics to join under the severest penalties. Another great source of anxiety was the Society of Jesus. Complaints were coming in from all over the world over business transactions made by the Order. Its riches and its lax doctrines were described to him; and he was moved to enforce a thoroughgoing reform very especially by what he heard of Jesuit missionary methods in India and China. There heathen customs were assimilated despite Papal decrees to the contrary. But he died before he could take action* and so bequeathed the whole burden to his successors.

Clement XIII was a supporter of the Society, so that nothing by way of action was to be expected from Rome during his time. In order to be on terms of equality with other states, the Catholic countries therefore resorted to self-help against the hated 20,000, thus driving the Devil out with Beelzebub.

It began in Portugal. A treaty between this country and Spain concerning boundaries in the colonies on the La Plattc and the Uruguay compelled 30,000 Indians to leave the flourishing missionary republic which their Jesuit fathers had established in the territory taken over by Portugal, and to seek new places of residence in the wilderness. Against the will of the General, some fathers joined the natives in opposing the command. This act of self-defence was as welcome to no one as it was to the leading Portuguese statesman Carvalho, Marquis of Pombal. This enlightened despot, who throttled his King


Jose, a melancholy epicure who signed whatever his minister laid on his desk without reading it, now declared war on the Jesuits both in the colonies and in Portugal itself. Among the foes of the Society he was the most energetic and the most merciless a free thinker, a beast of prey who felt no twinge of the heart as he crouched and sprang. He knew everything that had been said and written againsr the Society and offered selected readings to the King. His soldiers dealt ruthlessly with the Indians who, partly for the sake of theii spiritual fathers, defended themselves bravely but were finally defeated by an army led by Carvalho's brother.

Carvalho had many reasons for fearing that he might be dismissed and so held the nobles and the clergy all the more firmly under his thumb. He wrote pamphlets against the Jesuits in which he accused them of connivance with an attempt on the King's life, though that attempt had probably been instigated by a noble family in order to avenge the seduction of a daughter. He declared them guilty of having instigated a popular rebellion in Oporto against the destruction of the vineyards, and said that behind the screen of efforts to improve the economic situation of their missions they were planning to get control of world trade and to establish an independent kingdom. Carvalho's associate was Cardinal Saldanha, Papal inspector of the Society, whom some say had been bribed. One night during Septem- ber, 1756, all Jesuits at the Court were arrested and exiled. A sudden search of their houses in Portugal for money and papers revealed noth- ing incriminating. The hundred thousand pesos duros which were found in Lisbon had been a present from the Queen of Spain to the missions. Three years later, hundreds of fathers were marched off to the Papal States with rations like those given to convicts. Many re- mained behind in inhuman prisons, and more than fifty mounted die scaffold during 1761. Among them was one of die greatest figures in the Society, the eighty-year-old missionary Father Mala- greda whose life had been as rich in adventure as the Odyssey. He went to his death in a habit on which grimacing demons had been painted. A pointed paper cap was placed on his head, and a gag was put in his mouth. The Court and the ministers enjoyed the play from gaily decorated loges. Twenty years later, the damp subterranean dungeons were opened and more than eight hundred Jesuits again saw


the glory of the century of enlightenment. Pombal himself, placed under arrest by the Court as guilty of grievous offenses against the welfare of the nation, managed by a hair to escape the gallows.

France had long since followed this example. Parliament and the University of Paris, ancient foes of the Society, finally witnessed its fall. The Fathers were the victims of the Machiavellian tactics of the Cabinet which they themselves had fostered.

The occasion here was the bankruptcy of Father Lavallette on the Island of Martinique (1755). He was to repay borrowed money with goods to a company in Marseilles, which was associated with him in the development of two islands of the Antilles. But both money and goods were partly lost through shipwreck, and partly fell into the hands of the English during the naval war. The Order had neither forbidden nor authorized the undertaking. Therefore the Superior in France refused to honour notes amounting to 2,400,000 livrcs which Father Lavallette had signed. The result was a civil suit which scandal-mongering publicists utilized as a means of bringing the whole Jesuit question to the fore. The Parliament of Paris ruled that Lo- renzo Ricci, General of the Order, must pay the debt, and ordered that the statutes and books of the Jesuits be examined. The decisions arrived at by the commission, the prominent members of which were three priests, were catastrophic. Once more the Crown sought to rescue the Society by proposing to the General that some changes in the Constitution be made. But the Pope, in unison with the unbend- ing General, answered with the famous words, "Sint ut sunt aut nan sint" They must be what they are or not be! In 1762 the Parlia- ment disbanded the Jesuits, suppressing eighty-four colleges in all, after it had secretly granted the King the right to levy taxes in the amount of 60,000,000 francs as a reward for his endorsement of the measures taken and of the confiscation of the Society's property. Doubtless it was not without pressure from Madame Pompadour, to whom a brave Jesuit had refused absolution because of her adulterous living, that Louis XV was induced to confirm the parliamentary de- cision. A Papal bull was issued in protest, and the publication of this the Parliament of Paris forbade throughout the Kingdom. The Arch- bishop of Rouen threatened to place all who circulated it under the ban, and in some cities copies were burned in the public square.


In Spain too, the fire had long since been glowing beneath the ashes. Charles III was an energetic, keenly intelligent man who was de- votedly loyal to the Church, but he could not resist an opportunity to take revenge on the Jesuits for having agitated against certain re- forms promulgated by his ministry. It was held that they had not merely instigated the popular movement against innovations in social and industrial practice, but had also fostered a plan to dethrone the monarch. Letters of a highly treasonable character forged by a tool of Aranda were placed on the King's desk. Among them was a document signed with Ricci's name. This declared that the King was not of legitimate descent, that he had no just claim to the throne, that all possessions in America should be taken from the Spanish crown, that an independent, Jesuit kingdom should be established in Paraguay, and that the monarchy should be transferred to the King's brother. This forgery achieved the purpose for which it was in- tended. Mercilessly and unfeelingly the King drove the Society out of the country with armed troops during 1767. The ruling was extended to Naples, Parma and Venice. The persecution of the So- ciety was then rapidly transformed into an attack by the Catholic states on the Papacy itself. It was even planned to declare a war on Rome and to starve out the city.

The doctrine of the omnipotence of the state had also taken root in Germany. The desires of governments as well as of impressive groups of the faithful were summarized in a book written in 1763 by Nicholas von Hontheim under the pseudonym of Justinus Febrionus. During the struggle between Rome and the Bourbons, this treatise made a profound impression all over Europe, It was a well-intentioned, utterly Utopian declaration that the primitive Christian conception of episcopal rights and councillor authority was not in accordance with the monarchical claims of an infallible Papacy; and it expressed the hope that worldly rulers would co-operate to renew and pacify the Church. By the next year, the book was already on the Index, but neither this censure nor the ensuing recantation of its author lessened its influence. It encouraged the Bourbon courts to pursue their policy, and gave the young Emperor of Austria and his brother, the Grand Duke Leopold of Tuscany, their ideas of ecclesiastical reform by the


state. It is, of course, true that both were influenced also by Sonnen- feis, a Jewish writer, and other theoreticians of political liberalism.

The Conclave, which now met under pressure of brazen intrigues especially on the part of the Bourbons, finally succeeded in surmount- ing all difficulties and electing on the twenty-second ballot Lorenzo Ganganelli, a simple, pious Franciscan. He took the name of Cle- ment XIV; the year was 1769, and the new Pope reigned until 1774. He was the son of a physician, was well educated in theology and natural history, and loved to stroll in the woods with a book. When he received the purple he wrote: "I regard these honours as an addition to the letters on my tombstone, powerless to aid him who lies be- neath." Once crowned he spent the nights which intervened be- tween stormy days, sighing for the peace of his monastic celL His favourite recreation was the trucco> a kind of bowling game played on the billiard table, or a dashing ride through the environs of Rome. He rode his horse so hard that the guard of nobles were scarce able to follow. He devoted himself with the greatest seriousness to the duties of his office. Art and science owe him a real debt. He began to arrange and exhibit in a museum the long since accumulated antique sculptures and the priceless stone tablets bearing more than 5000 heathen and Christian inscriptions. Like Benedict XIV who had befriended him and had made a place for him in the Papal administra- tion, he sought to foster peace with the States. The custom of read- ing the belligerent bull Ccena Domini once a year was abandoned* But now the Courts demanded no less than the dissolution of the Society of Jesus as a whole by the Pope. During four years he hesi- tated, anxious and shaken. It seemed to him that the danger of a schism could be warded off only if he sacrificed the Society. Spies of Pombal and Tanucci, agreements between cabinets and great prel- ates, and a hectic agitation fomented among the people by means of pamphlets and pictures, hemmed in the Pope more and more.

There was a Jansenistic strain in his soul, but he by no means lacked a feeling of responsibility for the loss of so powerful an organ of the Church and the Papacy as the Society was. In addition the joint demands of the Bourbon crowns were only partly or not at all in con- formity with the wishes of the courts of Austria, Poland, Prussia, Russia and Piedmont.


The Society fell. Clement disbanded it with the brief Dominus ac Redemptor noster of July 21, 1773. This long, carefully meditated document placed the emphasis on a plea for peace within the Church. The Society was declared to have lost much of the beneficent strength of its early period, and to have become a source of dissension in Church and State; and it was added that complaints regarding its interference in the business of government, its dangerous teachings, and its insatia- ble appetite for worldly goods, had increased beyond the limits of endurance. The Pope did not expressly make the charges listed his own, and he gave the whole measure the appearance of a step taken in the interests of ecclesiastical diplomacy.

Lisbon and Madrid celebrated the event with public rejoicing, fire- works, and cannon volleys. Elsewhere there was less noise; sometimes feelings were aroused not against the Jesuits but against the Pope. It was in France that hatred of the Society first died down. In 1775 Pere Beauregard was already preaching again in Notre Dame and predicting the Revolution in descriptions soon to be verified in every detail. Two powers, Prussia and Russia, took steps to maintain the Society for the benefit of their Catholic subjects. Catherine II wrote a letter to the Pope in praise of the Jesuits, and Frederick the Great not only forbade all the bishops in his state to read the brief but also threatened dire penalties if they disobeyed his order. The act seemed to him political and not religious. To Frederick the Pope was "the Vice-God of the Seven Hills," but the Jesuits were the most learned Catholics, the ablest and cheapest teachers, and the best priests. In letters to his emancipated friends Voltaire and D'Alembert, Frederick defended the persecuted Society with a sharp pen: "It is true/ 1 he wrote, "that I have a confounded lot of sympathy for the Jesuit Fathers. Of course, this has nothing to do with the fact that they are monks. I simply know they are reliable educators of youth and scholars whose scientific institutes are of immeasurable value to the educated members of society." And again: "The Jesuits have been driven out but if you insist, I shall prove to you that all this has been brought about only by vanity, secret desires for revenge, mean little intrigues, cabals, and selfishness/* And still again: "I for my part consider it an honour to conserve the ruins of this worthy Order in Silesia, and thus mitigate their misfortune a little, even though I, too, am a confirmed heretic."


Frederick was convinced that the intellectual niveatt of Europe would lose a great deal by reason of the dissolution of the Society: "But since my brethren the Catholic, most Christian, most loyal and apostolic kings, have driven them away, I am collecting as many of them as I can." And in 1773 he wrote to Colombini, his charge d'affaires in Rome: "Please tell everybody who wants to listen that in so far as the Jesuits are concerned, I am firmly resolved to keep them in my states during the future, even as I have done in the past."

News that the Jesuits in Silesia, Poland and Russia were resisting the brief wounded the dying Pope- At about the same time the heart of the aged Ricci was breaking in San Angelo, where he had been kept under stern, shameless arrest. He closed his troubled life in the presence of the Sacred Host with a profession of his own innocence and that of his Order. The new Pope honoured him with a magnifi- cent funeral.

This new Pope who chose the name of Pius VI (17751779) been Count Angelo Braschi, and was to be a figure in the Passion of the Papacy during the years to come. He had given assurance to the Bourbons regarding the Jesuit question, and they had sponsored his election. Fate opposed this man, animated by a holy charity and dominated by amiable ideals, from the beginning to the end. But he was able to wear the crown of thorns as worthily as if it had been a coronet of gold. His great antagonist was the German Emperor, but a greater still was revolutionary France.

Joseph II and Kaunitz, his minister, pursued the ecclesiatical goals of a liberalistic time with even greater determination than that of Joseph's pious mother, Maria Theresa. The Church was to be com- pletely under the domination of the State, to remain not much more than a pedagogical instrument. In that case there was no need of a Roman primacy which was, indeed, an obstacle in the way. Hastily and brusquely, he astounded the millions of his subjects with any number of reforms. Many of them were practical and sound, but they came down so much like a cloudburst that they also did a good deal of damage and did not penetrate beneath the surface. The Em- peror, beguiled by the teachings of the Physiocrats, was concerned primarily with the improvement of society, but he failed to realize


that things not patently useful may have a deep meaning and a real value. In order to save wood, orders were given that the dead should be buried in sacks. Joseph was in favour of monks and nuns who taught school or nursed the sick, but wanted to transform the con- templative Orders into active Orders. This could not be achieved overnight, as he supposed. There were also too many monasteries; and therefore he secularized hundreds of them, confiscated their goods and fortunes, and turned over to them a fund which was to serve ecclesiastical and charitable purposes. At least this was the intention and the command of this unselfish, high-minded ruler, but his com- missioners often acted in quite another way. The jewels which had once adorned Madonnas now appeared round the necks of the wives and mistresses of emancipated officials. Rome was given more cause for concern when the Church marriage laws were tampered with, when Papal decrees were subjected to revision, when the Index was sup- planted by an imperial censorship, when Austrian subjects were for- bidden to study at the Collegium Germanicum in Rome, when the remaining Orders were cut off from intercourse with their fellow re- ligious in other countries, and when the state interfered in questions of liturgy. All this brought down upon Joseph's head the sarcastic remark of his Prussian colleague: "Mon frere, le sacristain.**

The protests of the Curia were in vain. The Pope then resolved, in view of the accusations of laxity which had reached his ears, to pay the Emperor a personal visit, and announced his intention to do so. But the answer was not so much a welcome as a hint to stay away. Pius now had the choice between a humiliation and the certainty that he would be accused of being afraid or of failing to live up to his word. He went quite simply, with just a few retainers; for the swamps of Pontus, which like many a Pope before him he had sought to drain, had swallowed up much money. Nevertheless there were expensive presents in his carriage, and before he left Rome he himself was the recipient of a gift a priceless fur sent by the Russian Crown Prince and his wife. After an emotional scene of parting between the Pope and the Roman people, his journey became a veritable tri- umphal inarch. Bells rang from all sides, and shouting, kneeling people gathered along every road. "Quanto c bello!" "Tanto c


bello, quanto c santo!" This journey of a Pope to Canossa has been described scene by scene, honour by honour, and also defeat by de- feat. Vienna and the masses which assembled from all parts of the Empire paid homage to the Sovereign Pontiff on each of the thirty days he remained. Before the Hofburg, where he resided in the chambers of Maria Theresa as the guest of the Emperor, thousands thronged incessantly; and up and down the Danube pilgrim boats were thick as stars. The Emperor, too, showed him every courtesy and honour. On Maundy Thursday he received the Blessed Sacrament from the Pope's hand. But as soon as negotiations were inaugurated, Joseph remained the absolute monarch. Kaunitz, who in his own home had insulted the Pope, whom he had insisted must visit him first, acted the liberal, and reduced to naught the few concessions his master seemed willing to make. Some emancipated intellectuals in- dicted pamphlets against the Papacy, and signs were pasted on walls making scorn of Pius. He had accomplished practically nothing when he embraced the Emperor and took his departure in front of the Church of Maria Brunn. Two hours after this touching scene, the monastery established on this site was dissolved; and three days later, there followed one hundred fifty dissolutions in the Netherlands as well as others in Austria and Bohemia. When the Pope rode home- ward through Bavaria and the Tyrol, the people paid him renewed homage, but this was no consolation for the spirit which ruled those in the government. The Roman cardinals were dissatisfied with the Pope. Copies of Febronius* book and of the Viennese pamphlets were sold throughout Rome, One day the Pope went to kneel on the prie-dieu in his chapel and found there a sheet of paper on which this was written: "What Gregory the Seventh, the greatest of all priests, once founded, Pius VI, the least of all priests, has destroyed again." Underneath the Pope wrote: "Christ's kingdom is not of this world. He who distributes the crowns of Heaven docs not rob those of earth/'

Relations between Vienna and the Vatican became still more diffi- cult. The Emperor retorted to a threat of the ban with the remark that the shameless person who had dared to sign such a document with the Pope's name merited punishment. When Joseph himself came to Rome, French and Spanish diplomats restrained him from letting


matters drift toward a complete breach. Soon thereafter Pius had the consolation of learning that the Imperial reforms in Belgium had come to a scandalous conclusion. Nevertheless the movement of emanci- pation under the slogan of "Away from Rome" made progress north of the Alps and then pervaded the Austrian domains in Italy. When it was announced in Germany that a nunciature was to be established in Munich, four archbishops convened at Ems, inveighed against the institution of Papal embassies as such and demanded in Febrionisric terms that the Roman primacy be weakened in favour of a national ecclesiastical establishment and pf an episcopal Church government under the Emperors protection. Rome, too, needs enemies to wax strong, and Pius replied by reviving the epistolary style of Hildebrand, He attacked the Emperor, the Empire and prelates estranged from Rome, whom he charged with seeking only their own aggrandizement. The archbishops did not remain in agreement among themselves, met resistance from other bishops who had more to fear from them than from Rome, and ended by assenting to the Papal brief. Joseph's brother Leopold tried to extend the family reputation for reforms; but at the Synod he convened in Pistoia, the Gallican and Jansenistic spirit did not prevail. Nevertheless these defeats merely veiled the fact that the Church was being more and more completely undermined by the princes and prophets of a liberalistic age.

Rome itself, which performed its duty and issued strong pronounce- ments was hardly aware of the really serious impact of all this sub- terranean rumbling. The life of the city, the nobles, the cardinals, the ambassadors, the artists and the literati, were more and more concerned with everyday joys, intrigues and aesthetic exercises; and the voices of the Popes, who were learned above reproach, generous but not girded for battle, hardly carried across the boundaries of the Papal States, let alone the continents.

All the farther did the thunder of the Paris of 1789 resound.

The new ecclesiastical legislation of the Revolution met with sur- prisingly strong resistance. Though clerics who refused to take the oath deprived themselves of bread and home, 40,000 of them left the country. Pius condemned the Constitution civil du derge. When it reached Paris, his brief was put into the hands of an effigy of the


Pope and burned. The possessions o the Roman See in France were confiscated. There were French tumults in Rome but the people still sided with the Pope. Bonaparte, having defeated the Austrians in Italy, attacked the Papal States because Pius had joined the coalition of powers against him. The armistice and the subsequent Peace of Tolentino (1797) cost the Pope Bologna, Ferrara and the Romagna, 36,000,000 lire in money, Church treasures, part of the library and of the Museo Pio Clementine which the Pope had completed. Caravans heavily laden with loot rolled off toward the Seine. But Paris wanted still more: the "Lama of Europe" and his religion were to be destroyed forever. In Rome a republican party raised the tri- colour and shouted "Down with the Pope." Papal militia executed a young French General. The Directory sent another, Berthier, to take revenge, and the city was compelled to surrender to him. The Pope was declared deposed, the Republic was proclaimed, and seven consuls were entrusted with the provisional government. A tree of liberty was planted on the Capitol, and Berthier read an address in honour of the occasion: "Manes of Cato, Pompeii, Brutus, Cicero, Hortensius, receive the homage of liberated France. The grandsons of the Gauls come today with the olive branch of peace in their hands, in order to erect on this holy place that altar of freedom consecrated by the hand of the first Brutus." The Pope did not flee as had been hoped, and so Berthier demanded that he abdicate. Pius replied: "I have been elected Pope and I will die a Pope. You can cause great suffering to an eighty-three-year-old man, but it will not last long. I am in your power but you have the body only and not the spirit." The French feared a Roman rebellion and arrested the Pope so that they might take him out of the city. He remonstrated that he wished to die in Rome. c< You can die anywhere,*' Berthier replied.

Since the end of the sixteenth century, there has existed a list of phrases characterizing the Popes who had gone before and those who were still to come. It is associated with the name of St. Malachias, an Irish Saint of the twelfth century. In this reputed prophecy, the phrase applied to Pius VI was peregrinus apostolicus martens in exilio "the apostolic wanderer who dies in exile." The Pope carried out this prediction to the letter. The journey led to Siena via post- chaise. Here an earthquake destroyed the monastery in which he


was staying, and the sick Pontiff barely escaped with his life. Then he was carried on farther to Florence, and thence to the Carthusian Monastery. Finally he was borne in a sedan over Turin across the Alps to Grenoble and eventually to the citadel of Valence. Here he ended his days during the summer of 1799, dying with the cross upon his breast.

Funeral orations were held, not merely for the Pope, but for the Papacy. The goddess of freedom was already erected on San Angelo, and her foot was on the tiara.

After his campaigns in Egypt and Syria, Napoleon buttressed his power when the fortune of batde favoured him at Marengo, and made a peace with Austria at Luneville. The road to the imperial throne was now open to him; but almost at this very time the Conclave was in session in Venice. Months passed before the thirty-five cardinals could reach an agreement, for the members of the Curialist party, who were resolved to defend the rights of the Papal States, were opposed to the political desires of Austria. Finally Monsignor Consalvi, Secre- tary of the Conclave, proposed Cardinal Chiaramonri. He declared that it was well known that this cardinal was not hostile to France, and that as Bishop of Imola he had even been in friendly relations with Napoleon. It was possible, he thought, to rely more on the Republic than on the Catholic monarchies, since the young General had accorded a dignified funeral to Pope Pius and seemed to hold religion and ecclesiastical order in respect. Moreover Bonaparte for his part held Cardinal Chiaramonri in high esteem. He was elected; and out of veneration for the martyr who had preceded him, he took the name of Pius VII.

This Pope was descended from a noble family, had entered the Benedictine Order when he was only seventeen and had later been professor of theology in Parma and Rome. His agreeable disposition, kindness and friendliness won the hearts of many. When the revolu- tionary French had invaded his diocese, he had quietly stood his ground and had preached a sermon in which democracy and the Gospel were declared in harmony. To this Bonaparte had replied by declaring it a Jacobin discourse. Nevertheless Pius did not seem to be called to serve as helmsman during a storm. Napoleon declared that he was a Iamb, a good man, a generous angel. But what he lacked in states-


manlike quality was supplied by his Secretary of State, Cardinal Ercolc Consalvi. Pius had immediately raised this expert in ecclesiastical administration, who was not a priest and never became one, to the rank of cardinal-deacon, and had entrusted him with the duties o Pro-Secretary of State. This Roman marquis had received his early training in the famous seminary erected by the English Cardinal Duke Henry of York in Frascati, and had soon discerned the way he was to go. Nevertheless he now hesitated to assume the burdens of office to which the Pope called him, and casting himself at the Pontiffs feet begged for another assignment. But Pius was adamant, and so a friend of the Muses was placed on the captain's bridge of world history. Rome had seen evil days under the reign of French liberty. The people were ground down by plunderers and gougers; prices soared sky-high. The Pope was therefore greeted jubilantly. He had to thank the victor of Marengo for the fact that he was again the master of his own house. Consalvi began to dig out of the ruins what remained of the Papal States as a result of the Peace of Luneville. In his own memoirs one can read the chronicle of the trials and cares which haunted him day and night. Most scrupulously he kept his hands clean and returned even the slightest present sent him by his most intimate friends. Thus when he was named Cardinal, the Duke of York remembered his erstwhile favourite pupil handsomely in his will; but Consalvi compelled him to cancel these bequests. Seldom in history have two men worked together so highmindedly as did this Pope and his minister, to achieve all the results which pure devo- tion to a cause and greatness of character could produce in a rime when justice and power were so completely intertwined, Bonaparte was soon to realize the significance of moral weapons.

He seemed to be kindly disposed toward the Church. In conversa- tion with the Bishop of Vercelli and in a public address to the clergy of Milan, he expressed his willingness to live on good terms with the Holy Sec provided that the new position of France and its importance in the world were understood there. A country shaken by revolution was again in need of the support of the Catholic religion. During June, 1801, he and his general staff attended a service held in the Cathedral of Milan in honour of the Victory of Marengo. Before he went he wrote to the two other Consuls: 'Today I am going in


pomp and splendour to the *Te Deum, regardless of what our atheists in Paris may say." During this same summer negotiations with Rome were concluded. On both sides the situation was desperately difficult. The Constitutional Assembly had broken with the Pope, had torn France adrift from the Church, and had divided the clergy into parties. But Bonaparte needed religious unity for reasons of state, and he needed the Pope to sanction his claim to the throne. Those immediately surrounding him urged the most contradictory requests on him: he should free the state from all the superstitions of religion, he should follow the example of Henry VIII and declare himself supreme head of the French National Church instead of leav- ing supremacy in religious matters to a foreigner, and he should make France a Protestant country. The reasons why he repudiated all these suggestions are well known. Napoleon, the statesman, wanted the Catholic religion and no other; and he wanted it because he desired a visible centre of responsibility. "If there were no Pope," he said, "we should have to make one." The man who spoke thus was not a deist but a politician. The future Emperor hoped that he would subordinate to his leadership the representative of the most ancient spiritual power of Europe, who was also the symbol of its historical unity. LaFayette did not understand all that Napoleon's ecclesiasti- cal policy implied, but he summarized its most intimate motives when he wrote: "Why not admit it, the little vial of coronation oil is to be broken over your head. This is what you want."

Ambassadors and outlines of a treaty were sent hither and thither. Napoleon demanded a Church constitution based upon the revolu- tionary status quo the sale of Church property in favour of the state, confiscation of real estate owned by the clergy, appointment and payment of the clergy by the state, and a new division of France into sixty dioceses, the bishops of which were to be chosen from those who had taken the oath as well as from those who had not taken it. When the Papacy replied in the negative, he sent a threat that he would declare war on Rome and the Papal States. If the Paris pro- posals were not signed within two weeks without modification, the French ambassador Cacault was to leave Rome at once and to join Murat, Commander of the Franco-Italian army.

Cacault himself pleaded with Consalvi to go to Paris personally,


and the Pope as well as the cardinals shared this view. Accordingly the Secretary undertook the difficult journey. The very first meet- ing in the Tuileries, which was designed to give the Cardinal an impression of the power and awfulness of the First Consul, proved how difficult it was to reach an agreement. The limping Talleyrand led Consalvi into Napoleon's presence amid the blaring of trumpets, the rumbling of drums and the stares of a host of notables in bright uniforms. "I know the reason why you have come to France," Napo- leon began in a lordly tone. "And I insist that negotiations begin without delay. I shall give you five days' time. If within this period the negotiations have not been completed, you can go back to Rome. As far as I am concerned, I have already resolved upon what course to take if you do so." Consalvi replied calmly, "In sending his Prime Minister to Paris, His Holiness has proved the interest with which he views the possibility of concluding a Concordat with France. I entertain the hope that I may be fortunate enough to complete this work within the time desired." Without altering his attitude, Napo- leon voiced during half an hour his ideas concerning religion, the Papacy and the Concordat. He took it ill that Rome and Russia were on good terms, and that immediately after his election Pius had acceded to the Czar's request and had permitted the Society of Jesus to continue its work in Russia. This, declared Napoleon, was surely an insult to the Catholic king of Spain. Consalvi defended this step and proved that Spain had been informed in advance concerning it. At the desire of the Abbe Bernier, Napoleon's plenipotentiary, the Cardinal sat up all night and wrote out a memorandum of the reasons which had impelled the Holy See to reject the French proposals. Talleyrand scribbled a contemptuous remark on the margin and turned over the document to the Consul. Meanwhile the Austrian Am- bassador, Count Cobenzl, lectured Consalvi concerning the incalcula- ble results of a failure: Bonaparte would break with Rome and would compel France and other countries under his control to apostatize. The Cardinal gave way in so far as his instructions permitted, without completely acceding to the wishes of the other side. Before the Con- cordat was signed Napoleon instructed the Moniteur to publish the news that Cardinal Consalvi had succeeded in completing the business which had brought him to Paris, and that on July i4th, the anniversary


of the storming of the Bastille, the Concordat would be proclaimed. Meanwhile, however, the document had been altered by Bernier at Napoleon's command. Consalvi, pen in hand, read the text before he signed and detected the deceit. Bernier stuttered in perplexity and defended his master, while Joseph Bonaparte entreated the Cardinal to sign. "It is not difficult to imagine what the wrath of a man like my brother would be if he were publicly exposed in his own news- paper as the author of a false news-despatch concerning so important a matter.*' Consalvi demanded that new negotiations take place. These lasted nineteen hours without pause. Now the moment had come when the signed Concordat was to go into effect. One single article was still under debate. It concerned the freedom of worship and its public practice, and the official character of the Catholic re- ligion. Consalvi stated that this point must be reserved for future discussion, and signed the rest, Joseph rushed off to consult Napo- leon. Before an hour had passed, he returned with a troubled expres- sion on his face. Bonaparte had torn the document into shreds. He insisted that the article to which Consalvi had made reservations must also be signed and that if it were not negotiations would be terminated.

In just a few more hours the festive anniversary banquet, to which Consalvi had also been invited, was to begin. Napoleon's advisers implored the Cardinal to give way. "I felt a fear like that of death/' he writes. "I saw the reproaches of everyone directed at me. . . During two hours of struggle, I persisted in my refusal and negotiations were broken off/'

During the dinner Napoleon strode toward Consalvi with a flushed face and addressed him in a loud and contemptuous voice, "I see, Cardinal, that you have wanted a breach. You shall have it! I don't need Rome I will act on my own. I need no Pope. . . You can go! This is the best thing you could do. When are you leaving?" In loud and passionate terms the Consul reiterated his annoyance be- fore the rest of the invited guests.

Cobenzl now undertook to bring about a reconciliation; and this was affected after a conference lasting eleven hours. When the com- promise was reported to Napoleon he was furious but soon became very silent and conceded the point. He himself could not want a breach; for a France torn asunder from the Papacy could not hope to


remedy the situation resulting from a division of the clergy yes, even of the Church into two camps. On the very same day (July 15, 1801) the Concordat was signed. In a farewell audience, Consalvi alluded to the great sacrifices which he had made for the sake of peace with France. The greatest were the relinquishment of claims to Church property and the concession to the ruler of the state of the right to appoint the bishops. Physically and mentally exhausted, Consalvi left the city in haste because of Napoleon's desire to see the Roman Bull of Confirmation at the earliest possible date. He had not won everything, but he had gained a great deal. He wrote: "Was it not a triumph to know that religion was to revive again in a country where people had worshipped the Goddess of Reason and read on the towers of temples the inscriptions, 'To youth, to manhood, to old age, to friendship, to commerce?' "

The event did not elicit a uniform echo on either side. Legitimists were shocked and there were plenty of angry free-thinkers. Some praised the Curia, and some poked fun at it. Pius and the cardinals were on the whole in agreement that a Concordat must not be spurned which made possible nothing less than the restoration of Catholicism in France and therewith its preservation in Europe, for under the cir- cumstances the apostasy of France would most certainly have involved other states. After a long debate it was ratified and die confirmation was sent to Paris. In order to weaken the effect of the agreement, Napoleon drew up the Organic Articles and proclaimed them together with the Concordat on Easter Day, 1802, These possessed the validity of state law, and in the spirit of an absolutism hostile to Rome forced the Church into chains of civil subservience, police supervision, and nationalistic limitations. The manner in which they were published created and was intended to create the impression chat they formed part of the Concordat and had, like it, been approved by the Holy See. Consalvi said that therewith the new structure erected at the cost of so much effort had been pulled down again. While the Monitcvr was making public the Concordat and the Articles in the same number in which die publication of Chateaubriand's Genius of Christianity was announced, while Archbishop Belioy then well-nigh ninety was celebrating in Notre-Damc, in the presence of Napoleon and his generals, the coming of peace to the Church, while heralds were pro-


claiming the Concordat to the city amidst the glare of the trumpets, and while the orator of the occasion was praising the First Consul as a new Pepin and Charlemagne, the Pope in Rome was protesting to his Consistory against the Organic Articles. But the bitterness of the chalice he was asked to drink was mitigated by the comfort of knowing that the most powerful ruler in Europe had sought to secure the blessing of the Papacy upon his efforts to enact an ecclesiastical law, at the very time when many thought that this Papacy was about to fade into the shadows of history. Once more the Holy See had been recognized as a great power and had come to terms with an opponent.

Nor was the attack of the Revolution upon Church property an unmitigated loss for the Church or the Papacy. The general seculari- zation which took place in Germany in 1803 destroyed a thousand- year-old association of bishoprics, it undermined the economic founda- tion of ecclesiastical activity, it suddenly imposed upon Catholics the fate of inferiority in material things, it also deprived them of spiritual weapons when such cultural centres as universities and monastic higher schools were closed, and especially in the southern territories it forced the Church into the position by reason of which throughout the nineteenth century and even later it was generally regarded as "out- moded" by those who enjoyed the advantages accruing to Protestants* But history is a giant which breathes in long breaths, and makes known the true meaning of events only after those affected are in their graves. With the ecclesiastical principalities, there disappeared also the type of consecrated Grands Seigneurs who utilized their enormous incomes to carry on as builders, patrons of the arts, custodians of treasures, and connoisseurs, to the disadvantage of the mission which constitutes the true meaning and purpose of the Church. Subsequent times enjoy the cultural achievements of such men, achievements which also testify to the strength with which the Catholic faith can express it- self in artistic creation. Nevertheless it also is hard to avoid passing judgment on the spiritual consequences involved. Now a great blood- letting brought about a profound change. No longer would many sons of princely or aristocratic families covet bishoprics and canonical appointments, which the state henceforth financed less liberally. A


simple, middle-class officialdom now arose in the Church, and gradu- ally freed itself from dependence on the absolute state. Because re- ligion was its innermost concern, it automatically began to understand anew that over and above national boundaries there was in progress a struggle of the Church and die Papacy for influence in the world*

Napoleon continued to serve the cause of Rome by harassing the Pope. After he had caused himself to be elected hereditary Emperor of the French in 1804, ^ e ^ so invited Pope Pius VII to Paris for his anointing and consecration. He had remembered that Pope Zach- arias had come to the land of the Franks when Pepin was crowned. For safety's sake he let Cardinal Consalvi know that if His Holiness refused to come he would be deeply offended, that much harm would result and that, on the other hand, if the Pope did as he was bidden great advantages would accrue to the Papal States. Every excuse would be looked upon as a mere protest, Napoleon added. Rome was frightened. Just a few days before Cardinal Fesch had reported the horrible murder of the Duke of Enghien; and the Pope had burst into tears for the victim's sake, and also for the sake of the real mur- derer, whom he was now expected to crown. He postponed sending congratulations to the newly elected Emperor until the transformation of the Republic into a Monarchy had formally taken place. During the Roman discussions of whether the Pope was to go or not, the de- termining factor was a petition to Napoleon to give freer rein to the Church in France. Consalvi wrote to Paris that only a religious rea- son and definite assurances by the Emperor could provide a suitable motive for the Papal journey. The Curia raised more objections than could be listed. If Bonaparte is crowned, will not the Revolu- tion be crowned also? Will the other courts not avenge themselves on Rome for such an act? Must one not be prepared to expect further violence and deceit from this man? What would be the effect of a defeat such as Pius VI had experienced? And again does not the good of religion demand that the master of Europe and the power of France be won over to the side of the Church? Finally the number in favour of the Pope going to Paris formed a majority in the Sacred College. When Rome declared that a letter of invitation was ex- pected, the Emperor answered with a repulsively slippery missive, the


disagreeable effect o which Cardinal Fcsch (who delivered it) tried hard to mitigate. The Pope informed the College that out of a sense of apostolic duty he had decided to leave for Paris.

Pope and Emperor met in the wood of Fontainebleau at noon on the ajth of November. Napoleon was dressed in a hunting costume and was accompanied by a pack of fifty hounds. The Pope was shown chambers in the castle, which were separated from those of Napoleon by only one room. Visits, receptions and addresses occupied all his rime during the few days he remained. Josephine, who was wedded to Napoleon only under civil law, feared that he would divorce her because she was childless, poured out her heart to the Pope, and de- sired the blessing of the Church upon her marriage so that she might not be excluded from the Coronation. Cardinal Fesch performed the marriage ceremony before the day of Coronation according to a form of dubious validity.

On November 2Sth, Pope and Emperor left for Paris. The city was decked out with splendour and every street was crowded. Pius, who now resided in 2 wing of the Tuileries, was accorded the highest honours. His dignity and his person made such an impression that the Emperor was jealous. He did not give the Pope permission to say Mass in public. "The people come an hour's distance to sec me," he said, "but they trudge along for twenty hours to get the Pope's blessing/*

On the bright, cold morning of December 2, the festive procession moved toward Notrc-Damc, the Pope wearing a cope and the data. When he entered the Cathedral, a choir of eight hundred voices sang TH ffs Petrus. . . Napoleon kept everyone waiting a long rime. Then the choir sang again as he entered, a little figure in a huge im- perial mantle, with a laurel wreath on his head, looking pale and sombre. Beside him walked the Empress, beaming with joy. The ceremony began. Pius inquired of the Emperor, "Do you promise to preserve peace in the Church of God?" Napoleon replied firmly, "I promise/' The Pope anointed the foreheads, arms and hands of the kneeling couple, girded the ruler with the consecrated sword, and said over him a prayer incorporating what the Church expected from Ac temporal power. But before he could take hold of the crowns that rested on the altar, Napoleon arose, placed one crown on his own


head, and put the other on the head of his wife. All present under- stood the meaning of this action. He ascended the throne, the Pope blessed him and greeted him as "Augustus." The thousands in the throng shouted their homage, and outside the Cathedral the event was announced with salvos of cannon fire. The new Cxsar then took an oath of loyalty to the constitution and High Mass followed.

The Pope's disillusionment began at the Coronation banquet: he was not shown to the place that was rightfully his. During the days that followed he realized that he would make no headway. He wrote a letter that revealed his feelings, and Talleyrand answered with non- committal phrases. In Rome gossips had long since been referring to the Pope as Napoleon's court chaplain, and the mockery' really expressed the true intentions of the Emperor. He wanted Pius to leave Rome and settle either in Paris or Avignon. If he decided on the second city, the Palace would be renovated and a splendid retinue pro- vided. But to this the Pope retorted that in this case France would have only a poor monk named Barnaba Chiaramonti, since he had already taken steps to assure the immediate selection of a new Pope in Rome provided that certain unfortunate things occurred "Avant dt quitter I' hale fat signc une abdication regulaire" Therewith he had already escaped from the grasp of the despot, even as a spirit escapes from matter.

Napoleon compelled the Pope to postpone his departure until he himself had preceded him to Italy. The parting was cool. The Pope had come with precious gifts, but the presents he got in return and took with him were not the magnificent treasures that had been promised and even described in the newspapers, but merely Gobelins and Church vessels of mediocre quality. Included was a tiara, the most precious gem in which had been removed from the crown of Pius VI, prisoner of France. The last insult to Pius was that the new coat of arms chosen for the Italian monarchy incorporated the Papal keys and the symbols of the three legations which had been taken from the Papal States. The Pope rode out of France in the wake of Napoleon, who was journeying to Milan for the King's coronation; and whenever the Emperor changed horses, Pius was given those that had been left behind. It was as if history had suddenly forgotten half a thousand years and was taking up the battle of the Middle Ages


anew. Bonaparte interfered arbitrarily in the ecclesiastical concerns of Italy, scolded the Pope for refusing to annul the marriage of his brother Jerome with Miss Patterson, and occupied Ancona because he was not content with the mere right to march through the Papal States. He said that he could not find it convenient to endure any border state which did not recognize his system and obey his laws. The French Emperor looked upon himself as Roman Emperor. The Pope, who was only the Prince of Rome, was bidden to look upon friends and enemies of the Emperor as his own friends and enemies. If he did not, his worldly possessions might be in danger. What Napoleon really demanded was that the Pope become his vassal. This at a time when the act of coronation had most seriously impaired in the rest of Europe the belief that the Roman See was independent! Napoleon also told Consalvi that he had only one alternative either to act always according to the Emperor s will, or to resign the Min- istty.

The victor of Austerlitz more and more arrogantly defined himself as the real master of the Papal States, demanded that the harbours be closed to English ships, that all "heretics" i. e, Russians, Swedes, Englishmen be ordered out, made his brother Joseph King of Na- ples, and deeded away possessions of the Roman See according to his whims. When the Pope protested and sent copies of his protest to all the Courts, Napoleon looked upon this act as revolution and threat- ened that he would place Consalvi, the author (whom he termed the Pope's seducer) under arrest. The Minister requested Pius to dis- miss him so that Napoleon would be deprived at least of one excuse. "Cast me into the sea like Jonah," he said, "because it is my fault that this storm has descended upon you." Pius assented because he real- ized that the Emperor's plans would then be unveiled more speedily.

Soon they were apparent. Gallicanism was to prevail in Italy also. The College of Cardinals was to become an instrument of French policy, the Code Napoleon was to be introduced as law into the Papal States, celibacy and religious Orders were to be abolished, and the Pope was to be compelled to surrender his neutrality and sovereignty. The resistance offered by the Vatican was in vain. On February 2, 1808, General Miollis marched into the city, disarmed the Papal troops, incorporated them into the French army, arrested the


Guard of Nobles, drove out the Cardinals who had refused to swear an oath of loyalty to Joseph Bonaparte, and occupied San Angclo. A new act of violence occurred every day. The Papal government had no money and no power, and it had feared that the despairing populace would rebel. Miollis informed the Pope that he had authority to shoot or hang anyone who did not obey his orders. On September 6, the Secretary of State, Cardinal Pacca, was to be arrested in the Quirinal and later deported. The Pope rushed into his room with dishevelled hair and demanded that he share imprisonment with him in the Palace. Prepared for the worst, the two remained in the Quiri- nal, around which there was now stationed a heavy guard. Pius spurned the opportunity to flee on board an English ship, and he repulsed every thought of a popular uprising. But the Bull which imposed the ban on Napoleon had already been written in 1806 and was kept secretly in the the Secretary of State's office.

On May lyth, 1809, Napoleon carried out his great attack on Rome. A decree signed at Schoenbrunn Castle excoriated the "con- tinuous animosity of the Supreme Head of religion against the most powerful Prince of Christendom." The voice came from behind a mask which the Papacy recognizes always and will recognize until the end. "In order to bring to a speedy conclusion these quarrels so injurious to the welfare of religion and of the Empire, His Majesty could have recourse only to one means to annul the Donation of Charlemagne and therewith make the Popes what they always ought to be, thus guaranteeing the spiritual power against the passions to which temporal power is subject. Jesus Christ, who was of the blood of David, did not want to be King of the Jews. . . My kingdom is not of this world, Christ has said, and with this utterance He con- demned for all times every blending of religious interests with worldly ambition." Moreover the argument was not missing that the Pope must stand above the nations, and that if he act as a sovereign inter- ested in state policies the neutrality of his influence upon the peoples will be undermined. To say that the Church might be ruled by the Pope as long as it docs not minimize the liberties of the Gallican Church simply meant that the Pope was not the Pope of France. "When future generations shall laud the Emperor for having restored religion and built up altars anew, they will nevertheless find fault with


him because he exposed the Empire that is the great confederation of states to the influence o this curious blend of powers which is hostile to religion and likewise to the peace of Europe. This obstacle can only be overcome if one severs the supreme secular power from the supreme spiritual power and declares that the Papal States are only a part of the French Empire."

The decrees inaugurating the future government of Rome, defined as "an imperial and free city/' as well as the particular instructions given for the treatment to be accorded the Pope were on the whole characterized by wise restraint. The Pope was to be arrested only in case he offered resistance or misused the immunity of the Papal resi- dence by writing pastoral letters against the Emperor, for example. The time for such scenes is gone. Philip Lebeau had Boniface VIII arrested and Charles V kept Clement VII in custody for a rime. A priest who declares war on the secular authority does violence to his position."

On the morning of June loth, Napoleon's edict was proclaimed on the public squares of Rome and the Papal arms were removed from San Angelo's to the tune of cannon volleys. The tricolour was raised.

Cardinal Pacca rushed to the room of the Pope with a copy of the decree. "It has happened/ 1 he said, and read the document aloud with deep emotion. The Pope listened quietly, went to his desk and signed a protest written in Italian and the Bull Ad perpetuam ret mtmon&m which imposed the ban on "the robbers of Peter's patri- mony." Napoleon's name was not mentioned in this Bull. Despite all the espionage of the French, the document was displayed to the public in some churches. Other copies were brought to foreign coun- tries and one was even nailed to the door of Notre-Dame. In it one read that the rape of the Papal States was the fulfilment of a long cherished plan, though it was now called "defense." One read a list of all French violations of treaties, of arbitrary acts and attempts at deceit, all Papal sacrifices for the sake of peace, and all acts of violence committed by the garrison of Rome. "If we do not wish to expose ourselves to the accusation of having ignominiously abandoned the Church, we must seize every means in our power. . /* General Miollis and Murat believed themselves empowered to arrest the Pope tx> abduct him from Rome. The Police General Radet received


orders to carry out the deed. At dawn on the 6th of July troops came quietly and swiftly from all sides. They climbed through the win- dows on ladders. Cardinal Pacca, who spent the whole of the night visiting the guard, permitted himself some hours of sleep durincr the morning. He was awakened and told that the French were already in the Palace. He looked out into the garden and saw that people with torches were running hither and thither. Clad in his night robe, he rushed to the Pope and awoke him. Pius, who was calm and cheerful, threw a silk mozzetta about his person and went into the audience chamber while the axes were crashing against the doors. He ordered the room opened. Radet entered with a few officers. Pale and in a trembling voice, the General managed only slowly to say what he had to say. The grenadiers presented arms and then fell on their knees. He had orders, said Radet, to induce His Holiness to relinquish his secular power and also to accompany him to General Miollis, who would determine what was to be his future residence. The words were exchanged calmly and courteously. "We cannot relinquish something that does not belong to us," said Pius. "The secular authority belongs to the Church of Rome, of which we arc merely the administrator. The Emperor can order us to be cut to pieces, but this he will never secure from us." Radet insisted upon an immediate departure. Cardinal Pacca, who was permitted to ac- company the Pope, did not have time to fill the trunks with laundry. In the courtyard a carriage was waiting to receive the arrested church- men, and after they entered it was locked with a key. The route did not lead to General Miollis' headquarters, but out of the city to a spot where a squadron of cavalry with drawn sabres joined the party* Then the carriage went on down the road to Etruria. When the Pope complained that he had not even been given time to supply him- self with baggage and companions, Radet attempted to make an excuse for the lie he had been obliged to tell. Pius asked the Cardinal if he had any money. When the answer was negative he drew out his own wallet which contained one papcto. Cardinal Pacca then opened his purse and found three pence. Both of them laughed. Pius showed the General his coin. "See," he said, "that is all I possess of my prin- cipality."

The day was hot. The air in the carriage was stifling, since the


curtains had been drawn. The noonday pause was made at a dirty inn. During the afternoon the Pope quenched his thirst from a riv- ulet that flowed along the road. Now and then weeping women appeared in doorways. After a journey of nineteen hours, they were given a miserable night's lodging. The Pope, who was clad in his light mozzett*. froze. The next morning he had a fever and refused to travel farther until his physician and his servants arrived. They came on the same day. The carriage sped on past Siena to Florence, through clouds of dust. The route was deflected from the cities them- selves* because the people were in a state of great excitement. In the Carthusian Monastery outside Florence, the Pope occupied the room in which Pius VI had been held a prisoner. When, after a few hours of sleep, he was again ordered to get into the carriage, the tired Pope was annoyed and declared that Bonaparte sought his death. They went on over Genoa, Alessandria, Monte Cenis in the direction of Grenoble; and still no order had come from Napoleon. Meanwhile the Emperor had despatched letters in which he expressed his indigna- tion at the Pope's arrest. It was only Pacca, the villain and enemy of France, who should have been seized. He requested that good treatment be accorded the Pontiff, Savona was ordered to offer hos- pitality, but meanwhile he might remain in Grenoble. But the peo- ple poured in and rendered homage to an uncomfortable extent, al- though no newspaper had been allowed to carry tidings of the Pope's presence in France. He was taken over Avignon, past Marseilles and Toulon, to Nice where he could enjoy the acclaim of the multitude, which strewed flowers on the streets during the day and sent up fire- works by night. Then finally the cortege arrived at Savona, on August 15, 1809. Here in the Palace of the Bishop, all the splendour of a princely life was afforded the Pope at Napoleon's command. He refused it all, including a proffered two million francs, chose to follow the customs of his monastic youth, and occupied three little rooms together with his old servant. The high wall of the garden reminded him that he was a prisoner.

Meanwhile Cardinal Pacca was destined to spend three hard years in the mountain fortress of Fenestrel in Savoy with other political prisoners for his companions. At the close of 1809 all Cardinals who were able to travel were ordered to proceed to Paris so that in case of


the Pope's death the new election would take place under Napoleon's control. Consalvi, who spent many difficult hours in Rome because, though he got on excellently with the higher officers of the Imperial government, he refused to recognize this itself, was compelled to bow to military force and to leave for Paris during the same year. The manner in which tie Cardinals and prelates conducted themselves, and their attitude toward the monarch who was under the ban and who was tormenting the Church, was nothing short of being a unified protest. Of the twenty-nine who were in Paris on the day that Napoleon was wedded to Maria Louisa of Austria, thirteen had de- clared the divorce from Josephine unlawful because not the Pope but a canonical court lacking jurisdiction had endorsed it and proclaimed it. They did not attend the church ceremony; and among their number was Consalvi, whose imperturbable self-seclusion expressed most elo- quently the protest against the new situation. Their resistance was so obvious that Napoleon let them know that he no longer regarded them as Cardinals. They were forbidden to appear in purple, wore simple clerical dress and were for this reason henceforth known as "Black Cardinals." They were deprived of their incomes and for- tunes and were exiled from Paris into a number of cities. Napoleon believed that they were rebels who had conspired for the purpose of declaring his offspring illegitimate. Consalvi in particular was the object of his spleen. He had him sent to Rheims and hoped that with die help of the more submissive Cardinals he could gradually put through his plan of a Byzantine government of the Church and a French Papacy. When the Pope resisted the dictatorial ecclesiastical policy of France, he was placed under strict arrest in Savona. He refused to install canonically the bishops appointed by Napoleon, and declared that if they carried out their offices without his confirmation they were usurpers. Pen, ink and seal ring were taken from him. Meanwhile Consalvi, living in proud poverty at Rhcims, was writing his memoirs, which also sang the praises of the imprisoned Pontiff.

Bonaparte now tried the last way out, which was to convene a Council that would carry out his wishes. So many dioceses were without bishops and so many prisons were filled with recusant clergy that he was spurred to great effort. An organization committee wrestled with the exceedingly difficult problems created by the fact


that a synod was to convene without the Pope against the Papacy. Napoleon's voluminous correspondence on the subject unconsciously threw a revealing light upon the significance of the tiara. The vilest means were employed in order to mislead the sick and isolated old man at Savona. It was, for example, told him that he might go back to Rome, but the condition was that he must take an oath of loyalty to the Emperor. A ctltjation consisting of bishops and officials friendly to Bonaparte and of the bribed physician of the Pope were unable to get much out of him but did succeed in wringing from him the concession that within six months he would confirm the bishops that Napoleon had appointed. But when the delegation left, he spent days of repentance in a state of spiritual collapse.

On June ijth, iSio, the Council assembled one hundred six bishops (six of them were Germans) , and then remained in session until Oc- tober. The Church saw that many weak, and few strong, prophets of its freedom had convened. It was the Bishop of Miinster in Westphalia, who urged most courageously the liberation of the Pope. But in spite of even-thing Napoleon obtained nothing excepting a Brief from Savona which permitted the Metropolitan to install the bishops appointed by the government, in the name of the Pope. He then declared that the Concordat was no longer in force.

On the road to Moscow he was still pondering the ancient question of the two powers. According to Thiers, he declared that when he had conquered Russia he would also triumph over the religious opposi- tion of the priesthood and even over the resistance of the human intel- lect itself. During May 1812, he gave orders in Dresden that the Pope was to be brought to Fontainebleau. After a harrowing trip, Pius entered the rooms he had occupied previously and dwelt in them a sick man. When the Emperor wrote some courteous lines and had his subordinates accord Papal honours, the Pontiff saw through these things too clearly to derive any pleasure from them.

On January i9th, 1813, Napoleon, having been defeated, visited his prisoner, embraced him, kissed him and called him his Father. On the next day negotiations concerning the future were inaugurated and the conqueror became the philosopher of Papal history. The great changes which had come about in the world, he said, necessitated also that the Papacy should give up its temporal power. What could not


come about if the Emperor of Europe and the Pope reached an agree- ment? How the Protestants would pale before such an alliance! Was it not the will of Providence that a virtuous Pope and a mighty Emperor should join hands?

At bottom it was not a new idea concerning the relations between the state and the Papacy which Napoleon was then pondering. Spir- itual government was to be preserved in appearance, but hollowed out in essence; and secular government alone was to rule men in their totality. According to Las Casas he still meditated upon what he believed he had obtained at Fontainebleau after he had become a pris- oner on the Island of St. Helena. "I had finally brought about the greatly desired separation of the spiritual from the temporal," he said. "Blending the two has been very injurious to the holiness of the first and has created disorder in society precisely in the name of, by the hand of, the one who should constitute the centre of harmony. From this moment on, I wanted to elevate the Papacy higher than it had ever been elevated before and to surround it with pomp and homage. I would have brought the Papacy to the point where it no longet complained about its temporal position. I would have made of it an idol. It would have remained my ally. Paris would have been the capital city of the Christian world, and I would have controlled religious life even as I controlled political life.**

During a thousand years the Carolingians, the Ottonians, the Hohcnstaufens, the Habsburgs, the Capetians, the Valois, and the Bourbons had exhausted all the possible ways of helping, injuring and subjugating the See of Peter. And if the new autocrat of Europe had realized his wish to be a Gesar, he could in his relations with the Pope have undertaken nothing that could have seemed to the revolu- tionized world anything more than an outmoded procedure. No new idea, no new act of intervention, made him the master of the most stubborn of his foes. There is comedy of divine profundity in this clash between power and power, between the impotence concealed in the strength of the genius who created a new epoch and of strength hidden in the impotence of a modest old man whose marvellous en- ergies appeared to lie only in the realm of yesterday. For the sake of this yesterday, which after all had not departed since it was the beater of timeless treasure which it was destined to pass on to the u-


ture, the new Gcsar also sought to find a footing on the Rock which had withstood so many turbulent floods of time. It was a sign that he did not know this yesterday; and if he had succeeded in making the High Priest his functionary, the curbed Papacy would not have lent his crown the splendour he desired.

Negotiations for a new Concordat lasted five days. Pius was no longer in possession of his powers. Bishops and Cardinals urged him to do the Emperor's bidding. He signed a calamitous paper with eleven preliminary articles, in which surrender to the rights to the Papal States was implied. The "Black Cardinals" were called back, and though Napoleon put up a stiff resistance Cardinal Pacca came too. He was not unaware of the new situation and was deeply moved when he saw his old friend again. The Pope stood before him a bent, pale, old man with sunken, almost lifeless eyes. They embraced, and Pius immediately explained with many self-accusations what had hap- pened. Since Napoleon had in the interim proclaimed this provi- sional agreement a law of the state and had ordered Te Deums to be sung in thanksgiving in the Churches, most of the Cardinals coun- selled the Pope to retract. Such a retraction was sent by the Pope personally to Napoleon at Consalvi's suggestion. In this letter he said that his conscience was on the rack and also expressed his aston- ishment that the provisional outline of a future treaty should have been made public. The Emperor kept the letter a secret so that he could act as if he had not received it, fc

Napoleon had neither the desire nor the rime to let matters drift to a schism, because he had to inaugurate the campaign of 1813. Reckoning with the possibility that the allied armies might reach Paris and liberate the Pope, he gave orders that the prisoner should be brought quietly back to Savona. Before he left Pius gave the Cardi- nals written directions governing the time of his absence. The "Black Cardinals" were interned in Southern France.

The fortunes of 1813-1814 compelled Napoleon, who had also lost Italy, to set the Pope free. When Pius went back to Rome, jubilant crowds welcomed him everywhere. At the same time, Napoleon was dictating his abdication in Fontainebleau. During the next year Gen- eral Murat invaded the Papal States, and the Pope had to flee once again to Genoa for a short time. The prophecies of St. Malachias


had said that this Pope was a preying eagle, aquila rapax; but Na- poleon called him a lamb. The prophet had given the victim the name of the danger which had threatened him. The Eagle who had spread his wings over Europe retreated across the ocean; and as the nations breathed freely again, the song o the romantic poets was raised in honour of the Pope.


Deeply shaken by the Revolution and the ambitions of Bonaparte, Europe seethed with factions taking sides for and against the Pope. Though on the surface reaction had won a complete victory, the spirits which had summoned upheaval had not been curbed. Many real opportunities presented themselves to the Church, to endorse the new and to help Europe find peace; and many of them were really grasped. But the leaders of the Spiritual Monarchy did not discern the real meaning of the historical evolution, and failed to utilize the right mo- ment to ally themselves with legitimate demands for freedom and reasonableness in the way which the nature of the Church itself sug- gested. For decades the Papacy was unable to make up its mind or to take the initiative in any striking way.

It was a brilliant but burdensome victory which Consalvi won when, after arduous negotiations with England, Austria and Russia, he put through the restoration of the Papal States at the Congress of Vienna. He could be grateful to the Napoleonic system for the administrative reforms it bequeathed to him, but he now went on to create some- thing entirely new in the form of an absolutistic spiritual bureaucracy, Despite the fact that it was economically beneficial to the Papal do- mains, this really marked the beginning of great misfortune for Italy, for the Papacy and for Papal world prestige. Much more advanta- geous were the concordats and conventions that were concluded, es- pecially those arrived at with the several states of Germany, where the beginnings of an inner revival of Catholicism in Bavaria, Prussia, and Hanover coincided with the grant of a new canonical status and the erection of a Church province in the region of the upper Rhine. Finally the restoration of the Society of Jesus throughout the world, which Pius VII decreed immediately after his release from French cus- tody, was an attempt to strengthen the power of the Church and the Papacy. The brief in question, Sollicitudo omnium ecclcsUrum (August 7, 1814), was read solemnly in the Gesu, the ancient princi- pal church of the Society in Rome, and expressed the confident hope that "the powerful and experienced oarsmen," would bring the barque


of Peter safely through storm and wave. The realization of the man- ner in which the Jesuits regarded human life induced even so mystical a mind as that of Novalis to say: "The Society of Jesus will forever remain the model of all societies which feel an organic yearning for unlimited development and lasting permanence. . . All plans must fail which h?vc not taken into full consideration every tendency oi human nature."

All these Papal acts at the close of the pontificate of Pius VII ex- pressed and served the spirit of the principle of legitimacy which un- derlay the Restoration and the alliance between throne and altar. But during the years which intervened between the Congress of Vienna and his death, the Pope saw clearly the powers which within and without the movement of Restoration were opposed to the Papacy. The philosophy of enlightenment still coursed in the veins of Europe, and the Viennese rendezvous of monarchs and diplomats had by no means stamped it out. This is proved not merely by Metternich's person and policy but also by harbingers of a spiritual return to the Church. Such men as Count Joseph de Maistre of Savoy, either lived in the atmosphere of enlightenment or utilized, as did Bishop Sailer of Germany, the real progress of the eighteenth century to for- mulate an idea of religious culture, the opponents of which protested that it has not been blessed by Rome.

The propagandists of revolution had pleaded for cosmopolitanism; but now everywhere nationalism came to the surface in its most vio- lent form, and sought, as German resolutions presented to the Con- gress of Vienna prove, to establish more firmly the old conception of die Church as a State ecclesiastical establishment. The absolutism of secular governments, to the example set by which the Papal States also succumbed, aroused precisely in these States the most spirited opposi- tion. There the Carbonaria aped the model of secret societies which had long since spread over the whole of Europe, and utilized the sym- bolism and craft terminology of charcoal burners to revive revolution- ary sentiment in favour of a united Italy and against the "priest- tyrants." Consalvi's courage and prudence managed once again, with the help of Austrian troops, to suppress this revolutionary movement against the throne and the altar. In it a poverty-stricken plebs had joined with unemployed soldiers and officers of Napoleon's disbanded


armies and with oratorical Russian agents to oppose their ideal of republican freedom and autonomous liberalism to "reaction." A net- work of secret clubs and lodges spread over the whole of Italy and prepared the way for that civic and philosophical attitude of mind which decades later would end the political control of Italy by the Papacy. The counter movement of the San Fides (Santa Fede}, which sought to defend the faith, could muster no superiority, least of all moral superiority, and possessed no political idea round which it could rally a majority. The uncreative opposition of the intransi- gents, the ZeUnti, who suspected Consalvfs skillful opportunism of being liberal, completely severed the Papacy, after Pius VII's death, from virile co-operation with the age. Friends of the Holy See did it as much harm as its enemies.

Meanwhile, by the mere fact that it existed, the Papacy remained a power and exerted an influence, even though it did not itself try to extend thai influence. The idea incorporated in it and its historical greatness sufficed to make the world honour once again this symbol of being in the midst of becoming, this spirit of abiding truth that stood above the turbulent waters of change. Though the partisans of the ancicn regime might look upon the oldest legitimate throne and hearth of what authority there was left in Europe merely as an instrument to sanction rule by divine right, and though in brilliant salons the sons of: a sceptical century congratulated each other that the Church was still there to act as the facade behind which the old rulers could march to their thrones again, there was deep and widespread popular longing for a reality that had been lost.

This yearning was common to all those manifestations which are summarized under the term Romanticism. Men sought a place to which they could escape from the cold, glaring light of emancipation and from the war-torn present. Whatever was not of today, what- ever retreated from the senses and led to the infinite and the dark, whatever could not be touched but only believed all this possessed a new power to arouse and sometimes also to comfort the human heart. The powers which looked back upon a long array of ancestors were besought to bring salvation to an era that was on the verge of collapse. Accordingly everything that was of antiquity, including the Middle Ages and the Church as the great dispenser of historical


tradition, were the objects of a new affection. As the men of this time looked about them, love looked through their eyes a love which refashioned, transfigured, reinterpreted all tilings according to the dictates of their yearning. And since the characteristics and con- ditions of the men and the peoples who sought fulfilment and peace in the past and in the spiritually strange were different, the fruits of Romanticism were not of one kind.

Even in the trend toward the Church, multiform reasons and ob- jectives appeared. In France there were published two profoundly influential books of European significance, Chateaubriand's Genius of Christianity, and Joseph de M aistre's Concerning the Pope. But they are manifestoes utterly different in nature and tendency. Almost all the Romantics of Germany and France are alike in this that they do not speak of living membership in the Church, but only of the Church as a means wherewith to realize the purposes they have in mind. In Germany Protestants were numbered among the prime-movers of lit- erary Romanticism; and their intention was everything else but to make propaganda for the existing Catholic system. Even so they prepared the way for a religious revival, and even for the Ultramon- tane movement. The Romantics of all the nations might well have made their own the basic statement of policy phrased thus by Novalis: "The intelligent observer views calmly and dispassionately these new revolutionary times. Does not the revolutionary seem to him like Sisyphus? Now he has attained the point of balance; and already the mighty burden rolls down again on the other side. That burden will never stay up unless an attraction toward Heaven keep it there. All your supports are too weak if your state preserves its tendency to re- vert to earth."

France, the land in which the idea of restoration originated, also gave the Papacy its strongest theoretical advocate. Chateaubriand drew a picture of an irenic Church dedicated to spiritual tasks. The young Lamennais beheld the infallible totality of human reason em- bodied in the Church, which in turn was embodied in the Pope, the unlimited sovereign and bearer of that infallible common intellect. Count de Maistre carried the exposition of the theocratic absolutism of the Papacy to its ultimate conclusion. But this teaching of the sens commnn, in which Catholicism and universal reason became


equals, concealed a very dangerous germ that might destroy the things that were being praised. While the Revolution had torn down thrones and altars for the sake of man, traditionalism was tearing down man for the sake of thrones and altars. On both sides something was being made an end in itself which must not be an end in itself if life is not to become vapid. If one simply terms every- thing human or everything Divine, the result will be equally non- sensical. Lamennais own sister said that he would become a devil if he did not become an angel; and the same thing might ultimately have been said of this school as a whole, if history had not intervened with its own rationalism. Lamennais, eternally in ferment, involved his misleading system of thought in the tragedy of his life. Joseph de Maistre's book, a basic Ultramontane text, aroused the weightiest doubts in Rome itself, where the heretical face was detected behind the veil. Pius MI liked it as little as did Louis XVIII in Paris. An anonymous theological writer pointed out the naturalistic foundation of this apotheosis of the Papacy the view that Catholicism is a creation of the totality of human reason and the incarnation des lots du monde dhtnsees, and that the roots of dogma and discipline lie only in the depths of human nature, or (as the phrase would have it) in the opinion univtrselle. The fact that Rome was cold even to a book written in its own behalf showed that the apostles of the Papal idea were keeping a sharp watch over dogmatic purity.

Pius VII did not go so far as to condemn the book. He was an eighty-year-old man, resting after the sore trials of his life; and he was glad to be able to end his days in Rome, and little desirous of stirring up new conflicts and embroglios. He had forgiven Na- poleon as an erring soul and now he continued to think kindly of the exiled monarch, whom he had recognized as a great man. He also made the Papal States a place of refuge for the Napoleonic family. In spite of everything he did owe it to Bonaparte that, with the help of a Concordat, France remained a Catholic land. Pope Pius died on August 20, 1823, and a few months later Consalvi followed him in death.

The three Popes who reigned during the next twenty years were cautiously conservative men whose eyes were fixed on the past. They were: Leo XII, Coraalvi's opponent and a favourite of the Zelanri;


Pius VIII, who reigned only eight months under the thumb of his all powerful Secretary of State, Cardinal Albani; and Gregory XVI, the creature of Metternich, and like him a devotee of the anti-revolu- tionary policy. Gregory was by nature an unselfish monk, who de- spite all his traits of an ecclesiastical monarch of the old style, which his secretaries Bernetti and Lambruschini encouraged him to foster, was none the less aware that the civil administration of the Papal States would surely lead to disaster.

The continuous decline toward catastrophe that was to characterize an Italy ruled by the Popes and Austria took place against the brighter background of universal Church history. In France the religious re- vival was based upon the spiritual achievement of Romanticism and upon the power of the reactionary part)'. The clergy, the religious Orders, and ecclesiastical influence on public life all grew, but so did the opposition of revolutionary liberalism to throne and hierarchy. Though Charles X was closely allied with the Church, he was com- pelled in 1828 to sacrifice the Jesuit schools. After the Polignac Min- istry had issued its ordinances against electoral and journalistic free- dom, the throne of the Bourbons fell. The excesses and depredations of the July Revolution of 1830 compelled Catholics to face a new situation. Acting on Papal advice, they recognized the government of Louis Philippe, the bourgeois king, and joined the ranks of the new movement. The leader was Lamennais, who with the young Count Montalembert, Pere Gerbert and Pere Lacordaire founded the journal UAvenir. Their slogan was "For God and Liberty/* and under this caption they demanded separation of Church and State. Lamennais * doctrine of a sens commun now embodied a naturalistic impulse, which undermined faith in the supernatural. In 1832 Gregory XVI con- demned L'Avenir. Montalembert and Lacordaire submitted sin- cerely but Lamennais, who accompanied them to Rome, could not get over this humiliation. Now, "he hung on the Cmss the Jacobin cap,*' against which he had set out to do battle. His next books con- stituted a glowing appeal to the peoples of the world to free them- selves "from the bondage of priests and tyrants/' He separated him- self from his friends, and his friends separated themselves from him. They joined with others to labour as "new sons of the Crusaders," In the pulpit, in nursing the poor and the sick, in writing books and


journals which strove to effect a reconciliation between the Church and the time. Their democratic Catholicism, which was optimistic, virile and invigorating, became a power in parliament and society un- der the motto, "Catholic above all," and continues to be that even now. Their ideal of a free Church in a free State, which ideal was soon to enter the history of the Papacy through another source, was opposed by the extreme absolutism of Ultramontane spirits like Louis Veuillot. While these joined Joseph de Maistre in wishing to revive the Inquisi- tion, the other group sought to win the human heart by showing that religion was the treasure and the guide it sought.

The five and a half decades which intervene between the seculari- zation and the turbulent year 1848 also strengthened Catholic self- confidence in Germany and fostered, by reason of political and spirit- ual necessity, a new endorsement of the monarchical principle in the Church, The regions of Miinstcr, the Rhineland and Bavaria became centres of religious revival before and after the dawn of the nine- teenth century. If one mentions the names of the Princes Gallitzin, Ovcrbcrg, Friedrich Stollberg, Sailer, Moehler, and Goerres, one has also listed the manifold energies of the revival, which wrestled with themselves and with the world about them. The fact that they arose, grew and found expression is easier to note than to explain. They were spirits which could be satisfied neither with the enlightenment, nor with German classicism, nor with the political doctrine of the Revolution. Least of all were they attracted to the Lutheran confes- sion, which was inwardly formless and in addition incarcerated in the structure of the state. Nevertheless a secret bond united them with all these forces, despite a frequent seeming antagonism. To this bond they owed more than they realized or conceded. That is the reason why the German "Catholic spring" at the beginning looked upon the Church, which it had sought out with reawakened affection, as a mystical community rather than as an hierarchical system. To it the mediaeval format of the Papacy was a thing of the past, without sig- nificance for the present. Though it saw clearly that the idea of the Church transcended the idea of the State, it believed none the less that both were on a footing of relative equality in the world of realities. As a consequence the Church must also not become the handmaiden


of the State. It needs energetic leadership by its supreme instance, not in secular matters but so much the more in ecclesiastical matters. The medieval grant to the Church of power transcending the power of the State had been abrogated. "One must carefully distinguish be- tween the immovable, unshakable element in the Papacy from the movable element in the Papacy," said Moehlen "The first will last as long as the Church lasts; the second takes on form according as the needs and circumstances of the time require."

This point of view did not prevail in Germany. Though it was temperate it clashed with rigid conceptions of the Church as an es- tablished institution which had grown popular since the Emperor Joseph's time. When Ultramontane thought, which had evolved curiously enough in the land of Gallicanism, began to exert an influ- ence across the Rhine, it throve most mightily in the well policed Ger- man states. The "Cologne incident," was a storm which broke our in Prussia and elsewhere after threatening clouds had overshadowed the eighteenth century. In this struggle over what was to be the religion of children born in mixed marriage, the victory went to a Church which had developed an organic independence not to be curbed either by culture or the state. The firmness of the Arch- bishops of Cologne and Posen, who went to prison for having obeyed the Papal Brief of 1830, impelled the Catholics of Germany to rally their forces anew. Goeraes now hurled his indictments against Prus- sia. The excesses committed by the omnipotent State were so fan- tastic that the Church was enabled to regain self-confidence. The Papacy which had exhorted the bishops to stand firm against the gov- ernment came to seem a custodian of liberty. The new theories of ecclesiastical monarchism passed from books to men and were soon transformed into life, conviction and passionate feeling. When Fred- erick William IV, the "romantic King," had freed the prelates from arrest and had restored peace with the Curia by making generous con- cessions, the principle of an autonomous Church closely affiliated with the Pope and the Papacy also became an issue in Austria, the rest ot Germany and Switzerland.

In other countries of Europe the new Roman idea also made similar headway against the hostile front of revolutionary liberalism and State


autocracy. In Great Britain the effect of the American and French Revolutions was that Catholics were gradually freed from their posi- tion of inferiority. A strong Irish movement of liberation led by O'Connell, and a Catholic trend in the Anglican Church from which the memorable figure of John Henry Newman, later on a Car- dinal, arose were occurrences of vital significance and of obvious historical logic. But in so far as their causes could be discerned they were more a religious expression of the organic Church than a turning toward Rome for reasons of ecclesiastical policy. "Oh, yes, if I were compelled (what could not be deemed entirely proper) to drink a toast to religion, I should of course, empty my glass to the Pope's health, but I should drink first to my conscience and then to the Pope,** Newman wrote later on when the dogma of infallibility was under discussion. In this expression of classic Catholic thinking, the bound- ary is clearly indicated beyond which the power of the Papacy cannot legitimately go.

Catherine II had promised protection to the Catholics of her realm. Where they actually received it, it did not last long. The seed sown so prodigally more than a hundred years before by Jesuits and Capuchins was stifled for many reasons. The Russian Catholic Church province under Archbishop Mohilew was under Josephinistic pressure and the Orthodox Church itself lacked the education and the religious energy needed to overcome the effects of a sceptical century on the cities, St. Petersburg had a metropolitan who sacrificed all four Gospels in order to dine with Czar Alexander I, and who ruled over a drunken clergy that conducted divine services in a slatternly fashion and on Easter Sunday gave the Last Supper to a besotted army. Such a priesthood, said Joseph de Maistrc who was an eyewitness, could easily reach an agreement with that Protestantism whose two dogmas were love of woman and hatred of the Pope. The capital city was crowded with preachers of sundry faiths, agents of Bible societies and revolutionary mystics, all of whom sounded the alarm against Rome. Alexander's soul was pious but amorphous. Today he listened to the Jesuits, but tomorrow Frau von Krucdencr had no difficulty persuading her "Angel of light" to establish the Holy Alliance. The College of Jesuits in Polozk, the last defendable fortress of the Catholic idea, was made a full-fledged Russian university in 1812; but already in 1820 it


was a mere shell, because the Society had been banned from all Russian and Polish provinces. This fate was incurred by reason of the So- ciety's propaganda in the army and the aristocracy. During the next thirty years Nicholas I reigned and there was little delay in carrying out the Russian system of separating Catholics from Rome by strategy and force.

The United States Constitution of 1787 had granted freedom to all religions, and the Congress of 1789 had decreed separation between Church and State. During this period Rome sent its first Apostolic Vicar to the new Republic, and established the first bishopric in Balti- more. Diligent labour and hard competition with other confessions placed the parochial life of Catholics emigrating unceasingly from Europe on a firm foundation. The fact that the Church was not tied up with the governmental system made it necessary for these masses, the great majority of whom were poor and moreover (as Orestes Bron- son said) hardly brave enough to declare in the presence of their enemies that their souls were their own, to seek the strong support afforded by a firmly-established and well-knit hierarchy. The Church which embraced the whole world could make a deep impression of unity on North America, where the domain of religion was divided up into innumerable parts. But Catholic life suffered not a little from the intellectual environment in which it was placed, from prag- matism and from the conception that economic success was God's blessing. For this reason the European often finds the writings of American religious leaders alien to his own conception. But the growing efficacy of Roman leadership, which manifested itself also during the era of "Americanism," brought home to Catholics of the New World what religion, the Church and missionary activity are adjudged to be in the shadow of St. Peter's.

After the blow received in Russia, the Society of Jesus advanced victoriously in other countries. Its General whom popular parlance termed the "Black Pope" was once again in Rome and his troops were now free to labour in the Papal States, Italy, Portugal, France, Belgium, Holland, England and America. Under the leadership of John Philip Roothaan, a wise, imperturbable, unflinching native of Amsterdam and one of the exiles of Polozk, the Order developed out- wardly and inwardly. Italy's troubled and sorrowful history during


the first half of the century opened with the decrees of the Congress of Vienna: restitution of the Archdukes, erection of a Lombardo- Venetian Monarchy as an Austrian province, and restoration therewith of Habsburg power over the largest part of the peninsula which Metter- nich insisted must henceforth be no more than a name on the map. Youth was to forget that there had ever been such a country as Italy. The study of Dante in the schools was forbidden, and instead young people were drilled in the questions and answers of a catechism in which blasphemous importance was attributed to the power and significance of the civil authority. One question was: "What does the word Fatherland mean?" The answer read: "A Fatherland is not only the country in which one is born, but also the country into which one has come by reason of annexation." The Austrian administration of Lombardy and Venice was better at least in intent than Metter- nich's politics, Matters were worse in Naples, where the rottenest branch of the Bourbons intermarried with the Habsburgs and allowed the whole of life to deteriorate into superstitious and bigoted ignorance, corruption, and lawlessness. The Bourbons were better in Florence and Tuscany, but there also the stirring of a national attitude seeking liberation from Vienna and Rome was suppressed.

The condition of the Papal States was such that they fostered rather than appeased the veiled civil war which went on in Italy between 1820 and 1848. The system of administration which associated service to the Church and service to the state in an incurably unnatural union produced a priestly bureaucracy which was soon staffed by men no longer called either to the priesthood that was required or to the state service in which they wished to carve out careers. The graft which the clear-sighted Pope Benedict XIV had already denounced grew still more colossal and aroused dangerous political passions in the Pope's subjects. Leo XII was hated for his spy system; and the learned Gregory XVI, for all his good intentions, could not transform himself into a territorial sovereign who realized that a new hour had long since struck in world history. When a large part of the Papal States re- belled in conformity with the spirit of the July Revolution in Paris, they were calmed down by hasty concessions and a glimpse of Aus- trian bayonets; and then the great powers sent the Pope the famous memorandum of 1831 suggesting reforms self-administration in


the municipalities, elected councils, and the accession of laymen to the most important offices. But at bottom everything remained as of old; the cardinals wanted it to be so, and the Pope was too old and too lonely to act in accordance with his deeper insight. He brought about many reforms in the administration of the law and believed that he would be safe against rebellion as the result of the acquisition of 5000 Swiss who appeared as reliable as the home troops were hope- less. Dissatisfaction increased and its butt was not Rome alone. Everyone knew that if things became serious the Curia could rely only upon the arms of hated Austria and was therefore under the spell of Viennese influence. In the chancelleries of the Curia there were also sighs over stupidities of which no Roman was guilty, "L* Austria ci obbliga!"

Incompetent ecclesiastical administration and Austrian pressure were not the sole causes of the collapse of the Papal States. Its ter- ritory, the patrimonium Petri proper with Rome and its environment, the Romagna, Umbrip and the Compagna Marittima, had been in- troduced to new political systems and intellectual problems as a result of the two French occupations. Treasured customs, privileges and security of thought and belief had gone, but the new which had come in their place now struggled to develop and met resistance from the rcstorational tendency of an ecclesiastical government which did not give its State the freedom to be a State for its own sake and that of its citizens, or give its citizens the freedom to lead a full, independent human life.*" This State was an island of involuntary saints, above which a governmental machinery of enormous dimensions creaked with age and was just barely strong enough to let its victims feel the extent to which the Kingdom of Heaven suffereth violence. There were throngs of political prisoners in the jails, commerce and industry hardly existed, means of transportation such as the new railway were scorned, the most gifted saw themselves excluded from public office if they did not wish to don spiritual attire and bid farewell to matri- mony, and young women who naturally desired to marry active men who amounted to something were simply superfluous. Moreover the state indebtedness weighed heavily on the provinces, and the supervis- ing cardinals could free their legations and delegations from onerous burdens less than ever because they themselves had lost their money.


The Popes no longer issued from ruling and wealthy families, and the nepotism which would have guaranteed to them loyal ministers and instruments of a firm policy had ceased to exist.

Why then did the Popes not simply abandon their temporal states? When Pius VII had escaped from Napoleon, he explained to the Austrian Emperor that his own fate was sufficient proof of the need of territorial possessions as a visible, tangible guaranty of the complete freedom and independence o the Roman See. Robbed of his sover- eignty and his States and subordinated to the power of a monarch, the Head of the Church would be hindered from carrying out his tasks in whatever country he dwelt and would meet the obstacle of jealousy when treating with other states. The same opinion was entertained by men of wide vision who were not Popes. Frederick the Great replied to the suggestion that a Catholic prince should take over the Papal States and himself reside in Rome by saying that soon other rulers and the Catholics of other states w T ould have nothing more to do with a Pope who had thus been deprived of his freedom. It was also Voltaire's opinion that without temporal power the Pope would be the humble chaplain of the Emperor to whom Italy would be en- slaved.

Though the Papal States were on the verge of collapse, they never- theless formed the political symbol of a unique spiritual verity, an expression of Papal sovereignty, and also the nucleus of a national tradi- tion which when it felt itself strong easily forgot what it owed the Papacy.

Unity and freedom that was the slogan of the Italian Risorgi- mento. All its advocates agreed in cherishing national unity and in passionately resisting alien rule. They included poets and seers like Manzoni, Leopardi and Capponi, priests like Rosmini and Gioberti, statesmen like Cesare Balbo, d'Azeglio and Camillo Cavour, revolu- tionists enlisted from the ranks of the Carbonari, and Freemasons like Mazzini and Garibaldi. But when the question arose as to how free- dom was to be obtained, and what kind of freedom and what form of state and civil existence were desirable, the Risorgimento split up so grievously that the patriots of unity were no longer able to reach an agreement. Minds parted company over the meaning of man> the world, and all ultimate verities. Therewith, of course, the Papacy


also entered the debate as something more than just a physical object of Italian policy. During the great discussions which had raged from the fourteenth to the sixteenth centuries, the Papacy had been attacked in the interests of religion and the Church; now it saw march- ing forth to battle those who hoped that in destroying the Papacy they would also destroy those very forces of religion and Church. The dream of the revolutionary leaders was what is customarily termed a humanism adjudged to be a law unto itself and needing no exterior authority (let alone a supernatural authority) such as the throne or the altar. Mazzini's secret society, La Giouanc Italia, swore by free- dom, virtue and resolve to take up arms against all tyranny. In Pied- mont during 1833 the Pope was condemned to death by hanging. It was decreed that after the Rome of the Cxsars and the Popes there was to arise a third "Rome of the people" liberated from all superstition and despotism.

On the other side there were the Nco-Guelphs Gioberti, Balbo, Rosmini and others. Now bold and enthusiastic, now temperate and reasonable, they agreed in demanding a reformed and reforming Papacy which was to be the heart and the guiding hand of a free Italy and therewith also a source of blessing for the rest of Europe, Others again defined themselves as friends of the modern state who were not hostile to the Papacy. Like the liberal Catholics of France, like the political theorists Victor de Broglie and Alexis de Tocqueville, they sought to find a middle ground between despotism and anarchy. Cavour, a Picdmontese like Giobcrti, Balbo and d'Azeglio, believed that gaining for Italy the treasure of freedom would bring profit to religious insight and action. He was an advocate of the idea of a frtc Church in a free state, possessed a deep insight into government and modern feeling and was sufficiently emancipated from scruples to be- come the leader of a great political movement. Then a Pope whom the prophet had termed "Cross of the Cross" ascended the throne in 1846.

Count Mastai-Ferretti, Bishop of Imola and six years a Cardinal, was the victorious candidate of those Cardinals who viewed the revolu- tionary ferment with grave concern. As Pius IX he began in June, 1836, a reign that was to prove the longest in the history of the Popes.


He was of a princely bearing and of a noble and kindly disposition. He was also generous and pious, witty and sanguine, and liberal as well as national in outlook. For this reason he appealed to the advo- cates of a new freedom and also to the people. But no real statesman has ever been fashioned solely of attractive human traits.

The Pope immediately emptied the political prisons and invited all exiles to return. There was great rejoicing. This was the Papa Angelico! Everything would now take a turn for the better. Met- ternich knew that Europe was sleeping on a volcano. He was in- dignant with this amnesty, which he said meant ordering the thieves to set the house on fire, too. A series of Papal reforms in the spirit of freedom filled Italy with enthusiasm and won the Pope many sup- porters in foreign countries. To the masses which clamoured for liberties, he was the most liberal of sovereigns; but in Vienna the police blinked an eye when a pamphlet entitled His Pseudo-Holiness, Pius IX, was circulated. One year after his election Austria strength- ened its garrison in Ferrara. The Pope protested and Italy acclaimed him. Even Mazzini said that Pius must lead the national movement lest the country (this was a threat) abandon its allegiance to the Cross. The Pope repudiated Mazzini's letter. He declared that he was Pope for the whole world, and not a nationalistic fanatic or a caliph of Italy. But the amnesty had already proved fateful. Followers of Mazzini and revolutionists of every kind invaded the Papal States and made unheard of demands. The ovation took on an ominous colour; and after a ride through the city the Pope fainted.

The year 1848 had scarcely begun when a political conflagration that started in Palermo swept over Europe. It spared the Church in France, which had become a popular power as the result of its pact with democracy, it solidified the autonomy of religious societies in Germany, and in Rome it aroused popular passion with the slogan, "Down with the ecclesiastical ministry!" The Pope granted a new constitution and Cardinal Antonelli formed a ministry consisting of six laymen and three clergymen. Then Charles Albert of Sardinia- Piedmont declared war on Austria, and all Italy was summoned to do battle. The Pope also blessed troops he sent out to defend the terri- tory. But if he refused to fight for the national cause, the nation would fight against him. Important personages urged him to take


the leadership of an Italian confederation. But was he to don a coat of armour like Julius II and drive out the "barbarians?" Either as the result of warnings that came from foreign countries or as the result of his own insight into the meaning and dignity of the Papacy, he de- clared on April 29th that his universal office did not permit him to make war on the Catholic powers. The hosannas were now followed by "Crucify him!" The halo which had surrounded the head of Pio Nono was dimmed at one stroke. All the ministers except Cardi- nal Antonelli resigned. A democratic ministry came into office, and the populace shouted that the Pope was a traitor. He stated his point of view in a manifesto, Popule Meus, quid fed tibi? Surely (he insisted) , it was high time that all should realize that the Sovereign Pontiff was conscious of the dignity and power of his office. Gioberti and Rosmini advised him to join a North Italian confederation; but then Piedmont was defeated in the Battle of Castozza and a new Turin ministry abandoned the idea of a confederation.

On September i6th, Count Pellegrino Rossi, the former French ambassador to Rome, took over the ministry. He was a moderate liberal opposed to the war with Austria, whom the Mazzini party hated and the reactionaries did not favour. This noble, farseeing statesman was struck down by the dagger of a conspirator as he went up the steps of the Cancellaria to attend a meeting of the Camera. The next day (November i6th) a mob surrounded the Quirinal. It de- manded war against Austria, a democratic ministry and other things. Pius issued a reply stating that he would take no orders from rebels. Thereupon cannon balls were fired into the palace and a number of persons were killed, among them Monsignor Palma, who was stand- ing beside the Pope. In order to prevent worse things from happen- ing, Pius assented to the new government that was demanded but stipulated that he would have nothing to do with it. Immediately the Swiss guards were disarmed, a citizen army took its place, and under its guard the Pope found himself the prisoner of his subjects. On November 24th, he escaped from Rome to Gaeta, with the help of the French and Bavarian ambassadors, clad as a simple priest.

A Constitutional Assembly proclaimed the Roman Republic. Its next objective was to rid Italy of the Pope (spapare) , The well known verses of Monti went the rounds:


Strip the fisherman from the Holy Land Of his king's sceptre and, bid him as before Unravel his net on the naked sand.

But again Radetsky defeated the Piedmontese at Novara on March 23, 1849, anc ^ ^ station was completely reversed. Charles Albert abdicated, Lombardy and Venice were once more incorporated into the Austrian monarchy, and the aversion of the great powers to a unified republican state was favourable to the policy of the Pope and his Secretary of State, Cardinal Antonelli. While Garibaldi and the followers of Mazzini retained control of Rome, Pius conferred in Gaeta with the representatives of the powers whom he had petitioned for aid. The military intervention was entrusted to France. Austria occupied the northern section of the Papal States, and the French ex- peditionary forces under Marshal Oudinot forced Garibaldi after a sharp fight to surrender Rome on June 30th. But the "liberal Pope" was now a thing of the past. Pius sighed and said that the peoples were not yet ripe for liberalism. It was not difficult for Antonelli to lead a heart thus thoroughly converted along his own way. On July i4th, the Papal sovereignty was re-established, after the French had tried in vain to solve the constitutional problem. A motu proprio (September i2th) almost completely abolished constitutional liberties. It was not until April i2th, 1850, that the Pope returned. His hair had turned grey.

The Austrians continued to occupy the Romagna and Rome, and this gave the revolutionary party a pretext for further warfare against the Papal government. Victor Emmanuel II had succeeded his father, Charles Albert, in Piedmont. There alone the constitutional idea had prevailed and reforms had benefitted the army and the country. In so far as ecclesiastical policy was concerned, the ministers Siccardi, Santa Rosa and Cavour enforced their liberal ideas. The canonical courts were abrogated, civil marriages were recognized, monasteries were suppressed. All these things were omens of the impending struggle against the temporal power of the Pope, and against them the Curia protested in vain. During the same year (1850) Pius restored the Catholic hierarchy in England and erected an archbishopric at Westminster. This victory over the No Popery movement and its


parliamentary representatives was a most impressive sign that the Papal idea was gaining ground. Rome concluded concordats with governments of the old and the new world, carried out organizatoria] reforms in all domains of the Church, and erected new educational institutions in strict conformity with dogmatic and canonical decisions. The Jesuits took over the propaganda for Papal centralism, and in the Neo-scholastic movement set up a rival to modern philosophy in St. Thomas Aquinas' interpretation of the world. This combined the philosophical treasures of antiquity and of Christianity. In France and Germany (where in 1852 the Catholic Centre Party was formed) Catholic Societies and assemblies became religious factors of im- portance and therewith also political factors. Catholic journalism and literature, not always and everywhere in agreement with strictly Ultramontane points of view, revealed both a new mastery of expres- sion and a new spiritual energy.

Similar phenomena were noticeable in Italy, Germany, France and Spain. All these forces, which had been released by the Revolution and Romanticism, united in a counter-revolutionary movement which believed that the endangered principle of personal absolutism was defended and represented in contemporary life by the monarchical Head of the Church. Moreover the political and intellectual attack on the Roman throne had automatically elicited from this throne it- self a resisting strength which had its own peculiar source hidden from the onslaughts of the outside world. The steadfastness and resistance it manifested were based on the logic of a system and on an organic historical growth, the first origins of which had been rooted in a reality transcending history. Even if the Pope who in 1854 conferred the status of a dogma on the ancient doctrine of the Francis- can and Jesuit schools that Mary in the first moment of her con- ception had been kept free of all stain of original sin had really been as his enemies declared an unlearned, credulous Pope, who in true Southern style was caught in the meshes of a highly imaginative de- votionalism, the fact nevertheless remained that his declaration merely set forth a conclusion derived from ancient teaching that Mary is the Virgin Mother of the Divine Son. Pius had asked all the bishops of the world for a vote on the subject; but when he defined the dogma of his own accord and without a Council he was already in fact voicing


"a decision of the moot question whether the Pope in matters of faith is infallible in his own person also, or whether he can claim this in- fallibility only at the head of a Council."

The trend of events took its course despite all the rulers of the Papal States could do. Cavour succeeded in gaining a strong ally for his king in the person of Napoleon III; and the two powers wrested Lombardy from Austria by the victory of Magenta. This province was then awarded to Sardinia, but the Austrians kept Venice. Soon alien control of the peninsula ended abruptly. When the Austrian troops evacuated the Romagna, this rebelled against the Papal govern- ment and in 1859 demanded union with Piedmont. Napoleon courted favour with both Piedmont and Rome in the hope of carrying out his federalistic program without the use of force. His official councillor, Lageronniere, drew up a document advocating that the Pope was to retain Rome and the patrimonium Petri as the basis of a patriarchal government possessing no state sovereignty. The smaller the country, he argued, the greater is the monarch. Meanwhile the action of the Romagna and the abdication of the Dukes of Parma, Modena and Tuscany in response to popular clamour brought about a confederation of states under Piedmontese leadership. With a bold stroke Cavour had, without the knowledge of Napoleon but with the tacit understanding of England, got the provinces of Central Italy to vote on the question of whether they wished incorporation in an Italian kingdom. The results were everything he could have desired. The Papal troops under General de Lamoriciere were defeated by the Piedmontese at Castelfidardo during September 1860; and in the same year the Garibaldians vanquished the kingdom of Naples and Sicily. A great statesman, a prince and a pirate had thus brought about unification. Only Venice was still Austrian, and the protection of France still held Rome and the patrimonium Petri for the Pope. On March 17, 1861, Victor Emmanuel was proclaimed King of Italy. Florence was to be the capital city. Soon thereafter Cavour died on June 6, with the formula of "a free church in a free state" on his lips. He still thought that that formula would guarantee a reconciliation between the priesthood and the state, although he could verify with his eyes the truth of what Montalambert had told him during the previous April: "In every corner of your state one sees the Church hampered,


insulted, and robbed, the bishops exiled, Catholic writers jailed, Catholic journals ruined, priests denounced and tormented, monasteries closed and desecrated, and religious women torn out of their violated cells. These are the tides by which you claim our confidence and our gratitude."

Cavour's followers interpreted his legacy thus: a state free of the Church. Assembled by the Pope on Pentecost Sunday, 1862, the College of Cardinals and the three hundred bishops who had gathered for the canonization of the Japanese martyrs of 1597, declared it neces- sary that the temporal power of the Holy See, which had been ordained by Providence, be upheld. Cardinal Antonelli responded to all the antecedent French attempts at negotiation with a non possumtts; but this answer was not in accord with the will of the nation. Nearly 9000 priests requested the Pope to surrender the temporal power and thus took up a position contrary to that of the Pentecostal Assembly. During the same summer Garibaldi attempted to conquer Rome, and the Peoples' Party agitated against France. Napoleon, forced to reckon with the clerical protest in France, concluded the September Convention of 1864 with Victor Emmanuel. By this Italy pledged itself to concede to the Pope what remained of the Papal States, and France agreed to evacuate Rome within two years. But when the last French troops were withdrawn toward the close of 1866 and when Austria lost the war with Prussia, Italy broke the treaty. With the secret consent of the government, Garibaldi's soldiers attacked the Papal States. Then Napoleon's troops returned in 1867 and, using their new rifles for the first time in a battle, defeated the insurgents at Mentana with the help of Papal troops. A French garrison in Civita- vecchia protected the Pope and his territory until the war of 1870. When Napoleon was overwhelmed at Sedan, the Papal States also ceased to exist. The Piedmontese received encouragement from Prussia and prepared to lay siege to the Eternal City. Count Ponza di San Martino brought from Florence a letter from the King which stated that the soldiers were marching to guarantee the security of the Pope and requested that in return he remove the alien militia for the sake of the peace of the countty and also of the independence of the See on the Tiber. The King declared that he addressed this petition to the heart of the Holy Father "with the loyalty of a son, with the


fidelity of a Catholic, with the reliability of a king, and with the senti- ments of an Italian." The Pope read the letter and threw it aside saying, "belle parole, ma brutti fatti" Ponza sought to create a better feeling, "I do not trust you," said Pius. "You are all whitened sepulchres."

On the 2oth of September Cadorna's cannon thundered and soon the green-white-red flag was afloat on the heights of the Capitol. The Pope had wished no other defence than a statement of protest to the effect that a deed of violence was being done. The militia was dis- armed and the Vatican was protected against the mob by troops which occupied the Leonine quarters of the city, concerning which negotia- tions were still in progress. After the comedy of a plebiscite the Kingdom celebrated the incorporation of Rome on October 9, 1870. On June 2d of the following year Victor Emmanuel took up his resi- dence in the Quirinal, and the Pope imprisoned himself in the Vatican. This voluntary imprisonment was a protest against an act of robbery and against the Laws of Guaranty passed by the state, which assured him the free exercise of his sovereign rights, an annual income of three and one half million francs, and the extra-territoriality of the Vatican, the Lateran, and Castel Gandolpho. Personally a broken man, Pius and the Popes who followed him up to the year 1929 were comforted by the unceasing opposition of the Catholics of all countries to Italy's attitude in the Roman question. The ancient dream of unity, the dream of Dante, Rienzi, Machiavelli, Cesare Borgia, Napoleon, Man- zoni, Cavour and Gioberti had been fufilled; but shortly before the moment of its realization the Papacy, whose temporal power was totter- ing, emerged as if from a corrupted and bursting pod to new spiritual life.

As a declaration of war upon all manifestations of the time spirit, which knowingly or unknowingly ran counter to the nature of the Church or the authority of the Popes, the Encyclical Quanta cura (1864) had been issued, with an appendix known as the Syllabus which listed sixty sentences that were condemned. The origins of this Syllabus go back to the year 1849, w ^en it had been suggested by Joachim Pecci, later on Pope Leo XIIL The last of these con- demned theses reads: "The Roman Pontiff can and should reconcile


himself with and concur in progress, liberalism, and modern culture (cum recenti civiltiate) ." This defensive action gave the impression of being an offensive carried out by the sovereign, mediaeval Papacy against the totality of intellectual and social development based on the Reformation and the Revolution, against the secularization of existence, against the autonomy of man and his fields of activity, and against the prevailing apostasy from a world beyond the realm of the merely natural.

The response on all sides was tremendous excitement. Even Catholics were frightened and endeavoured, as they today still en- deavour, to minimize the validity of the Syllabus as a guide to con- science and to soften its harsh diction. The liberal world, which is the whole modern world, is dedicated on principle to a lack of prin- ciples, and so rose up against the Papal "heresy" which was essentially a summons to order in the midst of chaos. For the Pope's protest against basic characteristics of the time-spirit was meet and necessary in view of the meaning and the mission of the Church. The fact that the extremes of Individualism and Socialism were warring bitterly against each other in spite of, or because of, a common faith in natural- ism, gave a third party the right to condemn that belief in unbelief which he saw as the fundamental error of errors. There is no doubt that the Pope acted rightly; but his utterance lacked that insight into the depths and the inevitability of the ferment which Catholic thinkers of older and more recent times had possessed. Leo XIII would soon find for his great encyclicals and allocutions a calmer method like that in which Elias, after storm, earthquake and fire had passed, heard the voice of the Lord.

Two days after the publication of Quanta cura> Pope Pius informed the Cardinals that he wished to summon a General Council. Four years later he convoked it, and it met on December 8th, 1869. The meetings were held in the north transept of St. Peter's, where princes of the Church and prelates of all countries of the earth foregathered, though Italy had a representation totally out of proportion to the num- ber of 747 qualified voters. The preparations had been made in secret, and therefore the fear of those not initiated was (particularly in Ger- many) so much the greater lest a Papalism after the heart of Pius IX, the Jesuits, and the Neo-ultramontane extremists would prove victori-


ous. But Rome was only about to draw all the consequences of its past history to the attention of a present which both positively and negatively demanded that such conclusions be drawn. Catholic liber- alism in anti-Gallican France, the German struggle for freedom of the Church, Jesuit theology, the historical school of Moehler, Doellinger and their disciples, which sooner or later was bound to be caught in a conflict between free inquiry and dogma, and finally also the mood of a lower clergy oppressed by its bishops as well as a concurrent enthusiasm of the masses for new forms of devotion, which had been consciously associated with the Papal idea: all these ways led to Rome. There, however, in view of the ominously noiseless catastrophe by which the Divine principle was disappearing from amidst the peoples, the wish was harboured to remind all of the fact of the Church's existence in all its greatness and awfulness and to face the most signal danger which this Church confronted as a result of modern civiliza- tion the danger of becoming a mere "Catholicism," an idea torn asunder from the real essence and existence of the Church, the truth and importance of which would be dependent solely upon the yes or no of man and society. If the Church was to remain a living or- ganism whose word, strength and mission hailed from the world be- yond, it must imperatively re-emphasize the fact that it was a source of salvation and a representative instance of trancendental life. It was impossible to do all this more impressively, more obviously than through the steps taken by the Vatican Council to define the nature of the Papal teaching authority.

The question of infallibility in the realm of faith and morals was not the sole concern of the Council, but it aroused by all odds the largest measure of attention. It had excited minds in France, Germany and England, before the Council ever met; and the nine months during which it was under discussion constituted one single, stormy day. Preliminary debates in the several countries and nations had revealed deep-rooted antagonisms and evoked expressions of hostility. Four- teen of the twenty German bishops sent a letter to the Pope requesting him to abandon the idea of the definition. There, as in France and elsewhere, men passionately devoted to the faith, loyal to the Church and affectionately submissive to Rome were among the opposition. The theological thesis of infallibility which St. Robert Bellarmine had


drawn up at the beginning of the seventeenth century and which long since had generally been accepted as a practically certain truth, was doubted by practically none of those who attended the Council. But they were gravely concerned over the effects of a solemn declaration. Would this enkindle anew the violent indignation which had followed the Syllabus? If the exaggerated Ultramontane explanation of the sentences condemned in the Syllabus had already led to negation of the true nature of the Church and had impaired relations between her and State and civic life, what would one not have to expect from these devotees of a Papal absolutism if the teaching authority of the Pope were defined in a dogma possibly all too sharply alien to the spirit of the Council of Constance? Was not the warning given by Bishop Ketteler of Mainz justified: absolutismus corruptio populorum? Would one not have to expect the apostasy of hundreds of thousands, especially in Germany where Doellinger, a little while ago the Ajax of the Ultramontane party, was now acting with tremendous success as the advocates diaboli of the Papacy? Bishops in democratic coun- tries feared especially any stress on hostility to the state, such as had arisen in connection with the Syllabus, believing that there would follow a counter-attack by the State on the religious freedom of Catho- lics. Moreover, what would remain of the dignity and rights of the episcopal office? Even after the Council had convened, the Bishop of Liverpool said: "We have come here as bishops of the Church; shall we not return to our dioceses as satraps of a central autocrat?** A powerful minority of intellectually important men from Austria, Hungary, Germany, France, and the United States fought hard against the numerical superiority of the partisans of infallibility. Thus the Council itself and the unofficial discussions which accompanied it proceeded to the last amid violent conflicts of opinion, during which apostolic devotion to conscience did not lack utterance. But Rome was deaf this time to every objection advanced in the name of op portunism. During the last general discussion July 13, 1870, four hun- dred and fifty-one of the six hundred and one in attendance were on its side. On July 17, which was the eve of the fourth solemn session, fifty-six bishops of the minority party published a defense of their point of view. They, for the most part, took advantage of their right to a vacation and left the city.


On the next day Pius proclaimed urbi et orbi: **With the assent of the Sacred Council we teach and define as a dogma revealed by God: that the Roman Pontiff, when he speaks ex cathedra, that is, when he in the fulfilment of his office as the shepherd and teacher of all Chris- tians, finally decides by the strength of that holy apostolic power lodged in his office that a doctrine concerning faith or morals is to be believed by the universal Church, is by reason of the divine assistance promised to him in the person of St. Peter, given that infallibility with which the Divine Redeemer wished that His Church should speak when reaching a final decision concerning a belief or a practice; and that therefore such decisions by the Roman Pontiff are of themselves un- changeable and do not need the expression of the Church's concurrence. But if someone, which may God forbid, should presume to gainsay this our definition, then he shall stand excommunicate."

Both Catholic teaching and pastoral practice clamoured for a more detailed exposition of this article of faith. A popular commentary, which soon thereafter was also given the express commendation of the Pope himself, was drawn up by the bishops of Switzerland. This said among other things: "Revelation coming from God, which is the background of faith, is a domain completely isolated and carefully defined inside which the infallible decisions of the Pope may be arrived at, concerning matters which exact from the faith of Catholics new responsibilities. . . It in no way depends upon the whims of the Pope or on his personal opinions whether this or that teaching can be made the object of a dogmatic definition. He is bound and cir- cumscribed by the creeds already existing, and by previous definitions of the Church; he is bound and circumscribed by the divinely revealed teaching which guarantees that side by side with the religious com- munion there must exist a civil community, that side by side with ecclesiastical authority there stands the power of secular magistrates who are endowed with complete sovereignty in their own domain, and that to these magistrates we owe in conscience obedience and re- spect in all things that are morally permissible and that belong to the domain of civil society."

The Council had not gone beyond the sphere of spiritual power, it had not touched upon the question whether temporal possessions were necessary to the Church, and it had not made the Syllabus as a whole


the subject-matter of an infallible doctrinal decision. Nor did the wide-spread fear that arbitrary and ill-considered use would be made of the Papal teaching authority as defined in any sense prove valid. It is theologically uncertain whether any of the Papal pronouncements since the Vatican Council is to be looked upon as an ex cathedra decision. The intellectual tumult which lasted throughout the Council and continued even afterward soon quieted down, at least in so far as Catholics were concerned; and the bishops who had opposed the de- cision also accepted it. Nevertheless a stubborn centre of resistance was formed in the new religious communion of Old Catholics, who, though they were not fully in agreement among themselves, not only repudiated Papal infallibility and Roman primacy but in addition abjured essential elements of Catholic teaching and practice. At the end they were nearer to Protestantism than their name would indicate. Since the days when this secession took place, opinion has on the whole been more just to the decrees of the Council. It is realized that the See of Peter had only drawn the conclusions that followed from the high dignity of its religious office; and it would seem that this deepened awareness of its awesome character has been everything else but an incentive to issue ex cathedra decisions, on any but tie weightiest grounds.

After voting on the question of infallibility, most of the prelates in attendance at the Council left Rome either because of the Franco- Prussian war or because of the summer heat. The general dispensa- tion granted by the Pope was to last until the sessions could be re- sumed in November; but events which happened in Italy immediately thereafter rendered it impossible for the bishops to return. Pied- montese troops invaded the Papal States and occupied Rome. When Pius IX learned on the morning of September 2oth, that Cadorna's artillery had opened a breach in the Porta Pia, he cried "Consttm- matum est" In a sense this might be said of the Papacy, which had achieved its own inner perfection just a little prior to the loss of its temporal sovereignty. Despite all the evils that may be enumerated, the Papal States did a great deal for the religious mission of Peter's successors and not merely for the Papacy as the institutional repre- sentative of an incomparably lofty ideal. They also aided the civic and cultural progress of Europe. But their time and their significance


now belonged to the past; and after the Italian annexation there re- mained only the difficult "Roman question," as to how a physical and political basis for a Papal sovereignty manifestly necessary was to be provided. This question arose on that very aoth of September on which the white flag was raised above St. Peter's as a sign of capitula- tion to secular might. This surrender to the threat of cannon by no means implied that the Papacy had abandoned its claims to the exercise of ecclesiastical world power. It was just as little a moral assent to the violation of justice, for the protest of Pius IX and his solemn re- fusal to recognize the Laws of Guaranty of 1871 anent the freedom of the exercise of the Papal office which freedom the World War brought to the fore anew was reiterated by all his successors until a final settlement was reached in 1929.

Rome had once conquered Italy and now Italy had conquered Rome. But during the sixty years that followed the loss of a territory it had governed even as kings of the world govern, the Papacy strengthened its power and position in the world both of action and of thought. Until the day of his death Pius IX beheld the revolutionary effects of what had been done and decided in the Vatican Council upon the new German Empire. Laws passed by the Prussian government were to insure to the state the right of supervision over the servants of a growing Church. Not only the Protestant spirit of the Imperial dynasty, but also the statesmanlike anxiety of Bismarck to unify public opinion brought about a Kulturkampf, the objective of which was a National Church establishment independent of Rome. The Chancel- lor himself realized that he was involved in the "age-old struggle for power between the kingship and the priesthood." Strong Catholic leaders Mallinckrodt, Ketteler, Reichensberger, Schorlemer, Windt- horst believed that patriotic German men could also serve their country by taking the field in defense of the religious liberties of their fellow Catholics and thus helping to ward off those real powers of revolution which Bismarck also knew were directed against state and nation. The Chancellor completely altered his domestic policy and abandoned the struggle with the Church toward the close of the seventies, realizing that the Catholic Party was not necessarily to be regarded as the implacable foe of his Imperial polic