Ep. 166 – The Great Western Schism – Part 1

Hello and welcome to the history of the Germans: Episode 166 – The Great Western Schism – Part 1, also episode 3 of season 9 – The Reformation before the Reformation

If you are a longstanding listener to the History of the Germans, you will already know that sometime in the late 14th century the catholic church broke apart into 2 and then 3 different obediences, three popes residing in different places and being recognised by different nations.

But what you may not know is how exactly this had happened. Why did the exact self-same cardinals elect one pope in April 1378 and another one 4 months later? Who was taking the lead in attempts to resolve the crisis and why did all these attempts fail for 40 years? How far did they go in forcing the various papal contenders to come to the negotiation table. How ridiculous were the popes’ attempts to wiggle out of that…

All that we will look into this week in part 1 of the story of the Great Western Schism

But before we start it is the usual big thank you to all our supporters who have either signed up on patreon.com/historyofthegermans or who have made a one-time donation on histryofthegemans.com/support. It is you who keeps this show free and clear of ever more irritating advertising. This show does not expose you to online psychologists, room sharing or crypto exchanges. Has anybody ever found out why there is an inverse correlation between the quality of a brand and the ubiquity of its podcasting advertising? Anyway, today we thank Alex G., Bruno P. Djark A., Charles Y., Daniel N., Kurt O. and Kai B. who have already signed up.

And with that, back to the show

I occasionally choose to split my stories into two parts, one where I talk about what happened and one where I talk about what it meant for the political, economic or cultural fabric of society. When it comes to the Western schism, this is not an option, it is the only way to do it. Since resistance is futile, let’s start with part 1, what the hack happened.

Let’s go back to 1303. As you may remember – mainly because I mention it in practically every episode for the last 6 months, the popes had moved to Avignon after the Slap of Anagni – if you do not know what that was, go back to episode 92 – Papal epilogue.

For 70 years the popes resided in this gorgeous Provencal city, very much enjoying the safety and security that came with the French monarch being just across the river and the murderous Roman aristocrats hundreds of miles away. Though the popes did not intend to stay for long, they gradually built themselves suitable accommodation. The Palais des Papes, the papal palace in Avignon was begun by the rather austere pope Benedict XII and then hugely expanded by the much more worldly Clement VI and his successors. By the late 14th century the Papal palace covered 15,000 square metres making it the largest and most splendid residence in the whole of Europe. It was built both as a fortress and as a palace, so its walls were 3metres thick and it sports a total of 12 towers, one of which was originally 60 metres tall. At the same time it held a grand audience hall where the pope received ambassadors as well as an enormous papal chapel used for religious ceremonies and the conclave for the election of a new pope. All very comfortable, safe and secure, basically the exact opposite of what Rome looked like at the same time.

But as there is no free lunch, not even for a pope, this safety and security came at a price. And that price was submission to the wishes of the French crown.

The first pope to reside in the South of France, Clement V was made to put his predecessor on trial for heresy on the French King’s demand. If that wasn’t enough, that same pope signed off on the dissolution of the Templars that resulted in a raid on this rich chivalric order by the French king and the burning of its Grand Master and several others.

So, not that comfortable after all. Clement V’s successors were working hard at extracting themselves from the French dominance. One of these efforts led to the election of emperor Henry VII, the forefather of Karl IV, Wenceslaus and Sigismund who lifted the house of Luxemburg from mere counts to the royal and imperial title. Episode 146 if you want to check it out.

But ultimately the pope could not really be independent as long as he remained within arrow shot of a French garrison. So all throughout this period the popes talked about going back to Rome. The problem was however, that Rome and the Papal states had slipped out of the control of the papal administration. Many of the larger cities, like Bologna, Ferrara and Perugia had first turned into city communes and then became Signorie ruled by autocratic dictators. Rome itself had also asserted its independence, being ruled by the a senate that was dominated by the great Roman families, the Colonna, the Orsini and several others. There had even been a popular uprising led by Cola di Rienzi or Rienzo that did however last only for a brief period.

It took a Spanish Cardinal, Gil Álvarez Carrillo de Albornoz, who fought tirelessly over a period of 13 years, from 1353 to 1367 to restore papal control over the Patrimoni Petri. He made liberal use of sell swords who had been released from duty when the hundred-years war went into its hiatus. These men were in equal measure effective as they were cruel. And they were also entirely coin operated. As long as Albornoz had money, he was able to subdue one town or region after another. Whenever money was short, activity slowed down and the process went into reverse.

These companies of mercenaries were a serious menace, because if they had not secured a new contract for their services, they went freelance. They would appear before the gates of a city with their siege equipment and even guns and make an offer the citizens could not refuse, pay us some fine gold and we will go elsewhere or endure a siege followed by a sacking. The Companies did even threaten Avignon itself and forced the pope to pay them off, twice! And each time they received not only gold but also forgiveness for their sins.

But bottom line was that by 1365 the papacy had regained sufficient control of Rome that they could go back. The pope at the time, Urban V, left Avignon on April 30, 1367 and arrived in the Holy City on October 16th. Though the French king had told him that he would be crucified upon arrival, as St. Peter had been, Urban survived his journey.

He spent 2 years in Rome, but without Albornoz who had died in 1367, he was unable to control the rebellious cities. Even Rome rose up against him and by the end of 1370 he was back in Avignon, where he then promptly died – a punishment for his cowardice as various saints and mystics claimed.

The next pope, Gregory XI, vowed to get back to Rome for good. But it took him seven years to rebuild his authority in the papal states. It also did not help that relations between the church and Florence had deteriorated. That was in part due to the success of Gregory’s troops that left Florence feeling threatened. And in 1374 the pope prohibited the export of grain to Florence where famine had broken out. Anti-papal, or more specifically anti-French pope sentiment reached fever pitch culminating in a war between Florence and its oldest ally, the papacy. The Florentines called it the war of the seven saints, referring to their own leadership against a godless pope.

This war was going well for Florence. One papal city after another joined the Florentine League calling for a return of their ancient liberties. Ultimately only Rome itself stood with Gregory. To relieve his lands from occupation, Gregory hired two of the greatest mercenary companies of the time, the Bretons and John Hawkwood’s White Company. Just in case this sounds familiar, the “Golden Company” in Game of Thrones is modelled on Hawkwood’s soldiers. The two companies did meet with some success, mainly by burning down the countryside around Bologna and starving the city into submission.

The real turning point came when the Breton company was staying in their winter quarters in the small town of Cesena. As so often happened, one of the mercenary soldier ended up in a brawl with some local butchers. The brawl expanded as both sides called upon their friends for help. Within hours the citizens of Cesena were running round shouting “death to the Bretons and the pastors of the church”. The papal legate who was in charge of these military operations, a certain Robert of Geneva withdrew his remaining forces to the citadel and called Hawkwood to come to his aid. And Hawkwood arrived a few days later with all of his 4,000 well trained mercenary men, their highly polished armour sparkling in the winter sun. By the time the day was out, the shine had come off their armour and their white surcoats were drenched in blood. How many citizens of Cesena perished in the massacre is unknown. People across Italy told each other about the countless women who had been raped, about babies whose heads were smashed against walls and unimaginable bestialities committed by these monsters. And they kept repeating the name of the man who had overall command at Cesena, the cardinal legate Robert of Geneva who they said had run around with his mercenaries shouting “I want blood, Blood! Blood! Kill them all!”. Remember this name, it may come back again.

The timing of the massacre at Cesena could not have been worse. Because just weeks earlier Pope Gregory XI had finally made landfall in Italy. There are multiple depictions of Gregory XI’s entry into Rome on January 17th, 1378, all showing him arriving at his splendid palace on a white horse or mule, handing out gold coins whilst bystanders, bishops, cardinals, monks and nuns watch adoringly. Not quite how it happened. Gregory XI arrived surrounded by 2,000 armed men. Upon brief inspection the Lateran palace, home of the popes for centuries was so dilapidated, there was no way the Holy Father could live there. So, the whole cavalcade turned and set off across the Tiber to the Vatican City. There suitable accommodation could be found. And that is where the popes have lived ever since.

The massacre of Cesena may have been another nail in the already rickety coffin of the papacy, in particular its French speaking popes, but it did break the spirit of the Florentine League. The war of the seven saints was over and the pope had regained the Patrimonium Petri.

And that is when he died.

What happened next has been disputed, less by contemporaries then by French and Italian historians for centuries.

Gregory XI, when he saw his end approaching issued a papal bull changing the terms of the papal election to make sure a new pope could be elected almost instantly after his death. Many authors interpret this as Gregory being afraid of a Schism and hence wanted a swift, if unconventional election. I find that quite honestly nonsense. If he had indeed been afraid of a schism, legitimacy of the newly elected pontiff should have been at the forefront of his mind. Hence he would have left instructions to make sure that every aspect of this conclave would be in accordance with the letter of canon law. By suggesting an expedient election, even one without a formal conclave if necessary, he made it even more likely the election would end up contested.

In any event, the cardinals decided to hold a formal conclave. They met in Saint Peters, all 16 of them. Four of them were Italians, one Spanish and the rest are often called French. However, within that group there were 5 from the Limousin region. The reason for that was that 3 of the last 4 popes had been from the Limousin area and these guys were all their nephews and other relatives. Hence the other French, led by Cardinal Robert of Geneva, the butcher of Cesena, there he is again! wanted anything but another Limousin pope. This faction also included the Spanish Cardinal, Peter de Luna, another name worth remembering.

As the conclave opened and the popes marched across St. Peter’s square they saw a large crowd of Romans who made their wishes clear – “Romano lo Volemo” we want a Roman. Some would later write that they shouted much harsher words than that, something along the lines of “If you do not give us a Roman, we will kill you all”.

Once the doors had closed the conclave begun in earnest. Robert of Geneva had already canvassed his colleagues and – realising his hands were still a bit too blood drenched to put on the papal mitre, is alleged to have declared that quote “We shall have no one else as pope than the archbishop of Bari”. The Limousin faction too realised that they had no chance to push their own candidate. So the cardinal of Limoges rose and declared quote “I propose the election of a man to whom the people cannot seriously object and who would show himself favourably to us….I elect the archbishop of Bari to be pontiff of the holy and catholic church and this I do freely and willingly” end quote. Cardinal Orsini, another one who had hoped to move up in the church stakes, resigned himself to the inevitable, and declared he would vote with the majority.

Who is this archbishop of Bari everyone was so keen on? His name was Bartomolmeo Prignani. He was, as the name indicates, an Italian. Not a Roman, but a man from the kingdom of Naples. The reason everyone in the college of cardinals could so readily agree on him was that they all knew him. Prignano had spent the last 14 years in Avignon as a diplomat for the curia and was recently elevated to vice-chancellor for Italy, aka he was the guy with the key to the moneybox. He was an insider. Someone who had been useful and deferential to these great princes of the church in the past and who they expected he would continue to be exactly that.

There was only a bit of a technical problem. Prignano wasn’t in the Vatican and without his consent his election could not be formally concluded and announced. The cardinals immediately called for him to come to the palace along with a number of other prelates, so as not to give away their decision. It took a while for Prignano to get across the city that was teaming with people. The crowd outside was now getting restless. They saw prelates arriving, some of them French. Rumours went around the cardinals had chosen another Frenchmen. The shouts “we want a Roman, we want a Roman” grew louder and the crowd moved towards St. Peter.

Meanwhile the cardinals returned to a chapel inside the complex and moved to formally elect Prignano.

Now this is important, it was after the cardinals had elected Prignano that the crowd burst into the palace, demanding to see who they had chosen. They said “Bari”, but that was misunderstood for another name, a Frenchman. And Prignano was not there yet and could therefore not be shown to the crowd. In the absence of the elected pope, and most likely fearing for their lives, they dressed the 90-year old cardinal Tebaldeschi, a Roman well known to the crowd, in papal robes and shoved him onto the throne. The old man protested, shouting, I am not pope, and I do not want to be an anti-pope, the archbishop of Bari is pope.

Whether anyone heard him is unclear, because all the other cardinals had run away and left Tebaldeschi on his own with the mob. Some made it to Castel Sant Angelo, others went back to their fortified houses and the future pope, Bartolomeo Prignano, or as we should call him now, pope Urban VI, hid in a small chamber inside the bowels of the Vatican palace. The crowd sacked the palace and then moved to the home of poor Tebaldeschi. It was a longstanding Roman tradition that the people were allowed to clean out the home of a new pope on the night of his election, and they still believed that was Tebaldeschi.

The next day the cardinals, including Robert of Geneva, announced the election of Urban VI and though he wasn’t a Roman, the crowd was satisfied. Over the next few weeks various cardinals announced to all and sundry in Europe that they had freely and legally elected a new pope. On April 18th, 9 days after his election pope Urban VI is crowned and got to work.

And, oh golly, he turned out to be nothing at all what the cardinals had expected. Instead of being that meek and malleable man he had pretended to be for all these years in Avignon, he flipped over into full-on autocratic ruler. And not only that, he developed an unhealthy obsession with his former colleague’s finances.

In his easter Sunday sermon he condemned churchmen who were perennially absent from their posts whilst still collecting their benefices – a bit rich from a man who had been away from his archbishopric for 14 years. But Urban got the bit between his teeth. He tells the cardinal of Amiens that he should live a more modest life and please stop taking bribes from foreign ambassadors. And if not, he would strip him of his cardinal’s rank. He called cardinal Orsini a sot and had to be physically constrained from hitting the cardinal of Limoges in the face.

In the following weeks his outbursts became ever more extreme. He would have shouting matches, again with the cardinal of Amiens who he had singled out as the worst of the lot. One time when he was again screaming and cursing with his head turning from red to purple, Robert of Geneva demanded the pope treated his cardinals with a bit more respect – or else. Urban’s response was to threaten his cardinals with excommunication, even excommunication without the traditional three warnings.

One after another the cardinals slipped out of town under the pretext of the unhealthy climate. They gathered at Anagni. By August 13 of the 16 cardinals who had elected Urban VI were in this pleasant little town about 65 km from Rome. Of the other three who had elected Urban VI, one had died and two had returned to Avignon. They invited Urban VI to join them, but he refused.

It was apparent that Urban VI had not only changed, but in the minds of many cardinals had become mentally incapacitated. Modern historians are split down the middle, some believe he had a psychotic episode brought on by the sudden realisation of the enormity of his office, others see him as a pious pontiff trying to reform the church and weed out its corruption.

The cardinals faced a dilemma. Under canon law, the only reason for a deposition of a pope was heresy. And that charge could not be made to stick, in part because Urban VI had been a papal diplomat who had never voiced any theological opinions one way or another. Calling him incompetent or not compos mentis was simply not a viable argument under canon law.

But they did very much regret their choice and wanted to get rid of him. So they resorted to another canon law concept, which was that acts made under duress were invalid. On August 9, 1378 the cardinals declared the election of Urban VI null and void as it was made out of fear of the Roma mob outside. As a consequence the papal throne was vacant. The 13 cardinals present in Anagni then elected one of their own, the cardinal Robert of Geneva, the butcher of Cesena to be pope. Robert took the name Clement VII.

We could now go into a lengthy discussion about the legitimacy of this act and many historians have. Some argue that the fact the crowds broke into the Vatican and the cardinals only escaped by putting papal robes on cardinal Tebaldeschi proves that the threat to their lives was real. Others point to the cardinals treating Urban VI as pope in the months after the election and even admitting that quote “if he had behaved differently, he could have remained pope”.

For what it is worth, the catholic church believes that Urban’s election was valid and that all popes that followed the Avignon obedience were anti-popes. I personally could not care either way, nor did the contemporaries in the 14th century.

The only thing that mattered was that we now have two competing popes. This is not the first time this had happened, but on most previous occasions the schisms had occurred as a consequence of the conflict between the papacy and the emperor. This one is unusual, because it resulted from an internal conflict within the church. Being the total pedant I am, I would like to point out though that there was at least one precedent, the conflict between Innocent II and Anaclet II. That too was a conflict within the church or at least amongst rival factions in the city of Rome – episode 46 if you want to check back.

But I digress.

Robert of Geneva, now pope Clement VII left Italy after a few weeks and settled back into Avignon. And so did all the other cardinals. Urban VI compensated for the loss by appointing 24new cardinals. Clement VII took control of the papal administrative apparatus, which had largely stayed back in Avignon, whilst Urban VI built an entirely new papal infrastructure. The Western Christian world was now divided into the Roman obedience, i.e., lands that recognised Urban VI as the legitimate pope and the Avignon obedience, that are the parts who believed Clement VII was the rightful pope.

So, who was recognising which pope?

The loyalties of at least two geographies were fairly predictable. Almost all of Italy sided with Urban VI. After the massacre at Cesena, no Italian wanted Robert of Geneva as their spiritual guide. And these considerations were overriding even the political calculus that had compelled Florence and others to wage the war of the seven saints against the papacy. Queen Joanna of Naples was initially leaning towards Clement, but her people made it abundantly clear to her that they would not support such a stance and Naples -minus Joanna - went into the Roman camp.

The key question was then whether France would side with Clement VII. Robert of Geneva was a cousin of King Charles V of France, and the rulers of France have never hid the fact that they preferred the papacy to remain in Avignon. The duke Louis of Anjou had warned Gregory XI against going to Rome, where he would “indeed cause great harm to the church were he to die there”. But Charles did take his sweet time to decide, calling an assembly of learned men and clergy to advise him. The French bishops abbots and university doctors knew what was best for them, and advised their king to support the pope in Avignon.

The rest was then tit for tat. If France supported Clement, then England sided with Urban. If England sided with Urban, Scotland sided with Clement. The empire was a more complex place with the house of Habsburg showing Clementine sympathies, and the Luxemburgs following Roman obedience, as did Poland and Hungary. The Spanish kingdoms went for Avignon, which meant Portugal went for Rome, and so forth and so forth.

Basically the papal schism became part of the political fabric of Europe, just another thing competing monarchs and princes could disagree on.

And almost as soon as the schism started, discussions began over how to end it.

These discussions did not emanate from the papal courts apart from demands that the respective other “false” pope stepped down, a proposal that obviously led nowhere.

The leadership in the discussion fell to the intellectuals of the day, which meant the doctors of the universities, and most senior amongst these, the university of Paris.

Since the popes and their courts did not differ in their interpretation of scripture, the debate wasn’t theological, but purely a question of canon law. And canon law, as we just heard did not contain provisions for the deposition of a pope except for heresy. And neither pope, for all their other failures, could be accused of heresy.

Therefore the simplest, if slowest option was to wait for one of the two pontiffs to die and then unify the church around the survivor. Urban VI was the first to die in 1389 after more of a decade of raging and ranting, tormenting and torturing. He fell off a mule and never recovered. He was not the most popular pope and his sarcophagus almost ended up as trough for the papal horses when St. Peter was remodelled.

But the opportunity to end the schism was lost, in part because king Wenceslaus failed to prevent the cardinals from electing a successor to Urban VI, who took the name Boniface IX.

In 1394 it was Clement VII’s turn to bite the dust. This time the powers to be reacted quickly. The royal council sent a letter to Avignon demanding the cardinals were to refrain from electing a new pope. The letter arrived, but the cardinals ignored it. Instead, they elected Pedro de Luna, the one Spaniard at the conclave of 1378 as pope Benedict XIII. The only nod to the royal demand came in the form of a solemn oath by the new pope that he would strive to resolve the schism, even if that involved his own resignation.

The policy of waiting for one pope to die clearly did not work.

The French government with the support of its clergy and university then pursued what they called the “via cessionis”, the idea being that both popes were made to resign at the same time. For that to work, the various monarchies supporting the two obediences needed to agree. And by 1397 it looked as if that could be achieved. A truce with England was concluded that brought king Richard II on board. The other prominent supporter of the roman pontiff was king Wencesalus IV. He too joined the coalition after that fatal meeting at Rheims, where he spent most of his time in state of drunken stupor. But hey, he seemed to have agreed.

So delegations went out to Avignon and to Rome demanding both popes resign. Guess what, neither did.

Now the French get really angry. If Benedict XIII wasn’t willing to go voluntarily, then he needed to be forced. In 1398 France declared what they called a subtraction, i.e., they decided they would no longer recognise Benedict XIII as the legitimate pope. 13 of his cardinals crossed the Rhone taking with them the papal seal.

But Benedict XIII was one of the most stubborn if not the most mulish man ever. Even though he had lost his most important supporter, he did not budge. The increasingly exasperated French rulers resorted to military might and besieged the papal palace in Avignon. It had been a long time since a temporal ruler had besieged a pope, the last was probably Barbarossa’s fateful siege of Rome in 1169.

But Benedict XIII still did not budge. The palais de Papes, as I mentioned at the beginning of the episode was as much fortress as it was palace. And even with guns, the French failed to take it. In the end the two sides came to a compromise. Benedict XIII was allowed to remain in his palace in Avignon, but under house arrest. French soldiers patrolled the city and blocked the gates. That less then dignified situation lasted until 1402 when Benedict XIII escaped to Provence where he found protection. Several of the Spanish kingdoms that had deserted him returned to his obedience, even the cardinals trickled back into his camp and in 1403 the kingdom of France recognised him as pope again.

Meanwhile his adversary in Rome did not have a great time either. Boniface IX had inherited Urban’s quarrel with the kingdom of Naples that included a variety of exceedingly cruel murders, sieges and battles, all most unbecoming to a Pontiff.

Now that Benedict XIII was restored to power he felt magnanimous and sent a proposal to Boniface IX. The two contenders should first refrain from making new cardinals and then meet in person to end the schism. That did not happen becasue in 1404 pope Boniface IX died.

Everybody, including the leading churchmen had enough of the schism. The Roman cardinals offered not to elect a new pope if Benedict XIII resigned. Fat chance that would happen. Did I mention that Bendict XIII was a bit stubborn?

So the Roman cardinals elected Innocent VII who died a year later. Another opportunity. Again the cardinals on the two sides tried to get Benedict XIII to step down. Again, this intractable, pig headed, obstinate Spaniard said no.

But he at least offered to meet and discuss the abdication. As a stopgap the Roman cardinals elected Gregory XII whose sole purpose was to resign as soon as a deal was struck. Benedict XIII travelled to Italy to meet said Gregory XII at Savona. But on the appointed date, Gregory was 200 miles away in Siena. A new meeting was scheduled for Portovenere, but on that day Gregory was in Lucca and so it went another two or three times.

Finally Gregory XII dropped his guise and declared he would never resign and that his cardinals should stop scheduling these pointless meetings. Why did he do that? Not because he was convinced of his own superiority as pontiff, but because his greedy family wanted more time to suck the papacy’s treasury dry.

That was too much for Gregory’s cardinals who left him and met up with Benedict XIIi’s cardinals, who too were realising how intransigent their boss had become.

Having exhausted every other avenue, the church finally arrived at a solution that had already been proposed by two German theologians, Heinrich von Langenstein and Konrad von Gelnhausen. These had been the leading lights of the university of Paris and would later found the universities of Vienna and Heidelberg respectively. But way back in 1381 they had proposed to convene a church council to resolve the schism. At the time this was rejected as under canon law only the pope could convene a council. Heinrich and Konrad’s argued that it must be possible to convene a council in periods of the absence of a pope, for instance during the election period. And hence that there are circumstances a council can be convened without papal invitation.

It took until 1409 after all the endless back and forth, the failed meetings, the broken promises, that the university of Paris came round to their view. Papal invitation or not, the cardinals called a church council for March 1409 in Pisa.

And this was an impressive gathering, the largest church council since the great Lateran Council of 1215. 24 cardinals from both obediences, 84 archbishops and bishops plus the proxies of a further 102, 128 abbots and the proxies of 200 more, the general superiors of the four monastic orders as well as representatives of 13 universities across Christendom. And of course the ambassadors of all the great princes of europe, except for the Scandinavian, Scots, Neapolitans and the Spaniards.

To the surprise of pretty much no one, the council declared on June 5th 1409:

Quote “This sacred synod, acting for the universal church, and as court in the present case against Peter de Luna and Angelo Corrario, once known as Benedict XIII and Gregory XII….decrees they were and are schismatics, nourishers of schism and notorious heretics and that they have deviated from the faith and have committed notorious crimes of perjury by violating their oaths…For these reasons and others they have proved themselves unworthy of all dignity and honour, including those due to the papal office. …This synod deprives, deposes and excommunicates Peter and Angelo and forbids them to act as supreme pontiff. This synod declares the Roman see vacant”. End quote.

Hurrah, fantastic. The schism is over. Both popes are deposed. All we need to do now is elect a new one and mother church is at long last reunited.

And that they did. The cardinals of both obediences, holding hands in new found unity and, as representatives of the church council, elected Peter Philargi, the archbishop of Milan who took the name Alexander V.

Their deed done the council declared to meet again in three years’ time to debate much needed church reform. Pope Alexander proceeded to Bologna to receive the allegiance of the city, the largest in the papal dominion.

Alexander V was 70 years of age, hence much younger than the recently deposed popes which made it such a shock when he died shortly after entering Bologna.

All could still have worked out fine had the cardinals accompanying Alexander V had chosen a more suitable successor. The one they chose was however Baldassare Cossa, a man of let’s say chequered past. He had been a naval commander in his youth and rumour had it that he did do a spot of piracy on the side. Other stories went around about his fondness of the ladies, whether he indeed had seduced 200 in Bologna as was claimed by his detractors is however doubtful, purely on the grounds of time constraints. Then there were the questions around Alexander V’s mysterious early death, the vast bribes paid to the electing cardinals and so forth.

John XXIII as the new pope styled himself entered Rome in 1411. The deposed Gregory XII cowered in the town of Gaeta but held on to control over bits and bobs in Italy, the empire, Poland and Lithuania. Meanwhile Benedict XIII could still rely on the Spanish kingdoms and Scotland. Despite all the effort, the schism still was not over.

In 1413 John XXII lost his hold on Rome when the Neapolitans marched in. The Pisan pope fled to Florence and began a peripatetic life that led him to Constance in 1414 where the next church council was to be held. But that is a story for another time. For now we freeze at the point where Europe has three popes.

Next week we will talk about what the implication of all these shenanigan were for the relationship between church and state, the relationship between monarchs and their diets and parliaments, the defence of europe against the Ottomans and the way people thought about god and all that.

If you want to pass the time until then by listening to old episodes, why not go back to the schism between Innocent II and Anaclet II in episode 46 or Barbarossa’s fateful siege of Rome in episode 57.

Before I go let me just remind you that you can support the podcast by going to histyoryofthegermans.com/support where you can either sign up as a patron or make a one-time donation. And just remember, from November Apple will add a 30% surcharge to your donation if you sign up using your iPhone. So go to your trusted old computer and do it there.