Motte-and-bailey in England

After William of Normandy took over England in 1066, one way to establish his authority and help maintain it was to build a series of fortifications. Eighty percent of these were in the motte-and-bailey style that the Normans had been using all over France and later over much of Northern Europe.

It would have taken longer and been less efficient to build from scratch, and so in many cases he chose to build on existing fortifications. After all, you don't build a castle just anywhere: you need it to have resources, such as fresh water. Towns were established the same way; no one built them in a desert or on an inaccessible peak (unless you built them for other reasons than comfortable living). So 

Since many towns already had defensive walls and the resources needed for living, many of the new structures were set up there. The castle would take up space, however, and the town was already being used. The solution was to demolish local houses and buildings.

Records of castle-building hint that, for instance, 166 houses in Lincoln were destroyed to build its castle. In Norwich, 113 families had to be displaced. Cambridge got lucky: only 27 houses were destroyed to make way for the new castle.

More motte-and-bailey defenses were set up in the west than the east, likely because the east was relatively settled, but in the west there were likely problems coming with Wales (and they would be coming for a long time). In all, at least 741 motte-and-bailey castles were built in England and Wales over the next few generations. When the Bayeaux Tapestry was made, it even included a fighting scene taking place at such a structure; in the photo above you can see a wooden palisade on a hill with soldiers fighting at the base.

I know that motte-and-bailey sounds like a primitive style of castle,—it is certainly no Neuschwanstein—but it was just the first stage for greater things. Next we'll look at a motte-and-bailey that everyone's heard of: Windsor Castle.

Motte-and-bailey

Norman cathedral design wasn't the only architectural style introduced into England after 1066. The fortification style called motte-and-bailey came along with the new ruling class.

The Normans were building these around Northern Europe at least a generation prior to 1066, and some archaeological evidence in Vincy, in northern France, suggests the first motte-and-bailey existed there as early as 979CE.

So what exactly is a motte and what is a bailey? The motte was a mound topped with a structure for defense. A bailey comes from the Norman-French baille and simply means a low yard. In Castles: Their Construction and History, Sidney Toy quotes a description by a Frenchman around 1130 on construction:

[they would make] a mound of earth as high as they can and dig a ditch about it as wide and deep as possible. The space on top of the mound is enclosed by a palisade of very strong hewn logs, strengthened at intervals by as many towers as their means can provide. Inside the enclosure is a citadel, or keep, which commands the whole circuit of the defences. The entrance to the fortress is by means of a bridge, which, rising from the outer side of the moat and supported on posts as it ascends, reaches to the top of the mound. [p.53]

There was tremendous variation in mottes. Anywhere from three to 30 meters high can be found—but 30 was far from the average. Two-thirds of those built in England and Wales were under 5 meters tall, and only 7% were more than 10 meters. Compared to the soaring heights of the cathedral-building program, the military structures put up by the Normans were significantly less visually impressive.

Making an aesthetic or religious impact was not the point, however. Showing "who's the boss" and preparing for possible uprisings and defensive needs were more important. Tomorrow I'll talk more specifically about how William's castle-building affected English towns and countryside.

Anglo-Norman Culture

We have looked at the influence on the language in England when it suffered an influx of Norman-French population and administration. This was inevitable, but was not what you would call deliberate. William of Normandy (more commonly known to modern readers as William the Conqueror) did not decree as the new king "Now we start changing the language!"

There were, however, more overt actions taken that demonstrated to the Anglo-Saxons how different things would be from now on. I am going to give you an example using two pictures.

St. John's Church in Escombe is one of four existing Anglo-Saxon churches in England. Built about 670CE with roughly dressed stones, the nave is 43 feet long and 14 feet wide. Contrast that with the New Romney Church tower of the Church of St. Nicholas. Built mid-12th century, it is a typical Norman church, and towers over any buildings nearby, including any Anglo-Saxon structures. Below you'll see a second photo that gives you a better idea of its size.

During William's reign (1066-1087), in a single generation, at least 15 cathedrals were begun, 13 of which stand today. Imagine the culture shock as the newcomers saw these mammoth structures going up and up, dwarfing their own architectural accomplishments.

Deliberate actions, as I said, but was the reason for the building fervor to intimidate the locals? There are other ways to say "We are in charge" than showing off fine Caen marble from your homeland and saying "We worship God better than you." Why giant cathedrals?

Turns out, William probably had a personal rather than a public reason to make attempts to please God. William was illegitimate (one of his epithets is William the Bastard). That's probably not why he built churches, but it was one reason given initially by Matilda of Flanders for refusing his offer of marriage.  She had a better reason for turning him down: their union would violate current laws of consanguinity.

The laws of consanguinity established by the church at that time forbade unions of people within seven generations of relatedness. William was Matilda's third cousin (once removed). We don't know what arguments he used to overcome her objections, but they did marry about 1051, and the flagship he sailed in to England, the Mora, was a gift from Matilda. Some scholars think his building campaign was motivated by appeasing God for all the death caused in the battle for England, for marrying someone to whom he was closely related, and because of a little guilt over taking the throne of England when there was a person who might have had a better claim.

Was everything the Normans built on such a large scale? No. Many defensive structures were not as grand as the churches. Tomorrow let's look at motte-and-bailey.

How the Normans Changed Our Language

Many of you already know about the Norman Invasion of 1066 when William the Conqueror became ruler of England and the Anglo-Saxons within. The intersection of two cultures will always cause linguistic borrowing, no matter how protective one of them may be (even the French say "hot-dog"). When major changes in society take place, we can expect major changes in language.

In truth, the injection of Norman French vocabulary probably amounted to fewer than 1000 words. They were not random words, however, but words whose presence "reflect[s] the ‘superiority’ of the French culture" to use the words of one scholar. Words like noble, dame, servant, minstrel come from French, as do estate, government, duke, madam, sir.

Even outside of the upper classes, the Norman French words introduced in England are still with us in all walks of life and careers.

Thanks to the Norman influence, we gave ecclesiastical terms clergy, friar, prayer, and the word religion itself! In the legal profession, court, crime, judge and justice are used daily. The military still uses general, sergeant, army, regiment, and siege. A pupil can go to an art lesson and sit in a chair to learn about color or ornament. 

True, some of the words came through French ultimately from Latin, but we cannot know that English would have ultimately gained them otherwise. Or would they? There were two major French dialects that influenced English at different times; there was a second influx of Central French vocabulary in the 13th century, further adding to—and maybe confusing?— the English language.

For instance, Latin caballus (horse), led to Norman French cavalier, but Central French chevalier, which is why in Modern English we have not only cavalier and chevalier, but also cavalry and chivalry. Latin canalis (channel) turned into Norman French canal and Central French chanel, so now we have both canal and channel.

Another telling set of Anglo-Saxon vs. Norman French terms comes when we look at livestock. Anglo-Saxon peasants (peasant is French, but from the 15th century) raised cattle and pigs, but when those animals become food and are served at a table, they are dined on by Norman masters as beef and pork.

But these were more subtle changes than some deliberate actions taken by the Normans to show superiority. I'll talk about Norman culture tomorrow, and what they did to "show off."

Modern Old English

There's an episode of The West Wing in which Bartlett asks a retired English teacher if she made her students "read Chaucer in the original Old English."

Sigh.

Paralleling the theme of yesterday's post, Chaucer's Middle English is practically "Early Modern English." Middle English on the page would be recognizable to many, although if they hear it pronounced it would probably be difficult to discern, and Chaucer gave us many familiar words.

Old English presents more difficulty, but our connection to it is very strong. Also known as Anglo-Saxon , it can be called Old English because it is recognizable, if you look carefully. In the opening lines of Beowulf, for instance, you can discern that:

Dena = Danes
dagum = days
cyning = king
threatum = threat
thas/that = that
him = him
gōd = good

The Lord's Prayer begins:

Fæder ūre þū þe eart on heofonum

Father our you who art in Heaven

Obviously there has been evolution, but there are many nouns that have changed little in 1000+ years:

God, mann, heaofon, eorðe, weorold, lif, lufu, word, weorc, dæg, hand, cynn
God, man, heaven, earth, world, life, love, word, work, day, hand, kin

There are also many everyday verbs that have changed little in 1000+ years:

sittan, secan, healdan, beran, giefan, cuman

sit, seek, hold/held, bear, give, come

Of the 1000 most commonly used words in day-to-day Modern English, 83% come to use from Old English. Much of the rest of our vocabulary is also from Old English. In the historical development of the English language, Old English is con sided to be used from about 500CE to about 1100, and Middle English from 1100 to about 1500. Instead of a slow evolution from Old to Middle, however, there was one linguistically catastrophic event that pushed Anglo-Saxon "over the edge" and forced it to change. That's a story for next time.

The Early Modern Period

I've offered my own idea of when the Middle Ages ended, but of course there are other ways to look at it. I suggested specific events taking place in or around 1453, but we can look at the Middle Ages not just about specific events so much as it was about cultural norms.

At the foundation of this question—and all discussions about periods in history—is whether you can accurately establish periodization at all. One of the first to "break up" the flow of events was Leonardo Bruni, mentioned as a tutor of Lorenzo Valla. Bruni has been called the first modern historian, and was the first to define human history as three periods: Antiquity, Middle Ages, and Modern. He was influenced by Petrarch, who described the glorious Classical Roman period versus the post-Classical tenebrae or "darkness." (This may have been the origin of the popular modern term "The Dark Ages.")

For Bruni to describe "Modern" as his lifetime (c.1370 - 1444) may cause us to smile, but of course it was modern to him...and may in fact still be considered the start of the Modern Era. Was there a shift in something in the 1400s that allows us to think of it as the start of our own era?

What trends or cultural shifts were significant enough—and continuous enough—to motivate modern historians to say that the Modern Era started in the 1400s? What was so different? We talk about the Renaissance as a rebirth of art and culture, but there was more:

•Globalization, with the expansion of mercantilism and sophisticated international economics
•The Age of Exploration/Discovery, with increased travel and improved methods of transport
•Religious dissent, and the development of secular policy
•The decline of feudalism, and the development of civic politics

The point is not just that these were different from what came before, but that these changes are still in place. Many of the changes that started in the 1400s are still with us, making the argument that what makes us "modern" and not "medieval" has in fact been going on for about six centuries, not just two or three.

A modern medievalist named Nancy Partner once said that if Medieval Studies wanted more respect from historians in general, they should start calling the Middle Ages the "Really Early Modern Era." Well, that may be stretching it, or maybe not, at least when it comes to the English language. Of the 1000 words most commonly used in Modern English, 83% come from Old English. Tomorrow I'll give you one idea of how much Old English you are speaking on a daily basis.

Lorenzo Valla--Early Modern Scholar

Lorenzo Valla was born about 1407 in Rome. His father was a lawyer for the pope. Lorenzo studied under Leonardo Bruni (sometimes called the first modern historian) and Giovanni Aurispa (who is credited with the revival of Greek in Italy).

Lorenzo entered the priesthood in 1431, seeking a position as a secretary in the Vatican's diplomatic office. Failing to secure that position, he went to Pavia to lecture, but he got himself in trouble there by offending the greatest jurist and expert on Roman law, Bartolus de Saxoferrato, by criticizing his Latin style. He had to leave Pavia, and became essentially an itinerant lecturer, traveling from city to city seeking opportunities at universities, until he was invited to Rome by Pope Nicholas V to work in Nicholas' new Vatican Library.

With steady employment, he could devote his spare time to writing. He had published in 1433 his first literary work, De Voluptate ("On Pleasure"), in which he argued for the benefit of Epicurus' embracing of natural appetites over the principles of the Stoics. He now produced a text on logic, Repastinatio dialectice et philosophie ("Re-digging dialectic and philosophy"). There are more: Notes on the New Testament, De Elegantis which examined Latin grammar and style, a work on Free Will that argued against Boethius' Consolation of Philosophy.

The truly ground-breaking work, however, was De falso credita et ementita Constantini Donatione declamatio, ("Declamation of the falsely believed and falsified Donation of Constantine") in 1440. The Donation of Constantine was largely believed (argued against, but still believed) as the foundation for papal authority over temporal lords.

Lorenzo took a close look at the text of the document that purported to be a formal imperial decree from the 4th century. His extensive familiarity with the development of Latin over the centuries helped him realize it was written in a style more appropriate to a less-educated writer from the 8th century.

Not only was the language wrong for the premise, he argued three other points:

1. There was no legal authority by which Emperor Constantine could have given Pope Sylvester I the powers claimed in the document.

2. There was no historical evidence in any records that there were administrative changes in the Western Roman Empire.

3. His own doubt that Constantine cared enough about the pope to give him anything.

The Church, understandably, rejected this theory. 

Lorenzo was put on trial by the Inquisition in 1444, ostensibly for supporting Alfonso V of Aragon in a territorial dispute over the Papal States.

Lorenzo Valla died 1 August 1457. It did not get formally published until 1517 and became popular among Protestants. Thomas Cromwell had it translated into English in 1534. The Donation eventually became recognized by all as a fake.

So why did I title this with the phrase "Early Modern Scholar"? Shouldn't he be labeled "Renaissance Scholar"? Many historians refer to the Renaissance as "Early Modern" now; the reasons why I look forward to explaining tomorrow.

The Donation Hoax

The Donatio Constantini (Latin: "Donation of Constantine") was a document in which the converted Emperor Constantine, whose Edict of Milan ended Christian persecution, gave the popes authority over the western part of the Roman Empire.

The 5th-century "Legend of St. Sylvester" tells about the relationship between Constantine and Pope Sylvester I. In it, Sylvester cures Constantine of leprosy, who then converts to Christianity. Following this, Constantine grants to Sylvester authority over Rome, Antioch, Alexandria, Constantinople, Jerusalem, and all churches, as well as any estates that are attached to churches. The oldest manuscript of the story is from the 9th century, but it is not until Pope Leo IX (pope from 1049 - 1054) that it gets used to affirm the supremacy of the papacy over temporal lords. It became a valuable tool in the argument, especially with the Holy Roman Emperors, that the pope's decisions and decrees superseded anyone else's. There was plenty of legal opposition to the idea, especially starting with Otto III, but no one denied its authenticity.

Then, in 1440, a Catholic priest named Lorenzo Valla took a close look at the document. He was a specialist in Latin translation, and something about the document did not look right. His familiarity with numerous Latin documents of all types and all times led him to the conclusion that, rather than an official document from the 4th century, it was a poorly written forgery from the 8th century, and therefore a hoax. 

Why was he motivated to chop down the chief pillar of papal authority over secular powers, when he himself as a priest could benefit? He might have had a personal reason, which I will look into and share next time.

The Donation of Pepin

The idea of actual Papal States giving the pope serious temporal power really took off in 756 when Pepin the Short, king of the Franks, gave to Pope Stephen II several territories and towns in the Italian peninsula.

To be fair, the territories were not Pepin's to give, not originally anyway. They were under control of Aistulf, king of the Lombards. A few years earlier, in 751, Aistulf conquered the exarchate of Ravenna. The exarchate of Ravenna was the last piece of Italy considered to be part of the Roman Empire, having been established by Byzantine Emperor Justinian as part of his plan to administer the western part of the fading empire.

Aistulf decided that his conquest of Ravenna and killing of the last ruler of it, the exarch Eutychius, meant he was now the nearest thing to a Roman Emperor. He therefore demanded that Rome itself submit to him and send him a tribute of one gold solidus per person.

Pope Stephen II could not negotiate with Aistulf to back down, so he sent a request to Pepin to come to his aid. The Franks and Lombards were on friendly terms, so Stephen thought Pepin would have better luck. Pepin promised the pope he would arrange the return of the Exarchate of Ravenna. The pope in return anointed Pepin and his sons Charles (Charlemagne) and Carloman as kings of the Franks (they did not need this to be kings, but it was a nice piece of recognition from a figure who was seen as the head of the Christian faith). He also named them patricians of the Romans, an honorary title suggesting they were Roman elite. The pope also pronounced a blessing on Pepin's wife, Bertrada.

So Pepin took his army to Lombardy, surrounded Aistulf's forces, defeated any military opposition, and made Aistulf promise to return Ravenna. A treaty was signed, Pepin turned around to go home, and once he had left Lombardy, Aistulf ignored the treaty. Aistulf besieged Rome. Word went to Pepin. The Frankish army came and forced Aistulf to abandon the siege.

So more than Ravenna became part of the Papal states, because Pepin turned over Lombardy as well and several other cities. Emissaries of the Roman Empire entreated Pepin to give the land to the political empire, not the spiritual papacy, but Pepin would not. The pope would now be a temporal ruler for centuries to come.

You may have heard that there was an earlier gift of land to the pope, called the Donation of Constantine. We will talk about this hoax tomorrow.

The Papal States

Although the early popes had no temporal power or property, as the Roman Catholic Church grew in popularity and influence, they accrued territory. It started simply, when Constantine gave the Lateran Palace for the pope's use, but the Renaissance saw a significant expansion and increase in the papacy's temporal and political influence.

As the Church grew post-Edict of Milan, donations of and (or buildings to be used as churches) followed from well-to-do Christins. These were all initially treated as property privately held, not as property of a political entity. This may have helped when the Roman Empire crumbled under attacks: Odoacer's overthrow of Romulus Augustus in 476, and the later rule by the Ostrogoths, would have made the Church's position more precarious if it were seen as a political rival. At this time, however, it was just a private "corporation," so to speak. The pope could be a dutiful subject under the new (and potentially hostile) administrations, while still professing spiritual authority.

When the Eastern Roman (Byzantine) Empire, headquartered in Constantinople, decided to reconquer the Western Roman Empire from the Goths, it set in motion a chain that would pass more temporal power to the popes. True, the East managed to regain much territory in Italy between 535 and 554, but the fighting left the economy in disarray. This made it easier for the Lombards to enter from the north and proceed to conquer most—not all—of the territory held by Constantinople.

The remaining strip of land stretching diagonally from coast to coast and including Rome. As the Eastern Empire's ability to manage these lands from far away waned, they increasingly left the popes in charge, since by this time the popes were the single largest landowner. At some point, these lands and others became known s the Duchy of Rome.

As their temporal power grew, of course, it led to severe clashes with other rulers. But then, it was other rulers' generosity that contributed to the papal increase in power. One such example was the Donation of Pepin, which I'll tell you about next time.

Pope Innocent IV

Innocent IV (born Sinibaldo Fieschi) had a busy decade. He lived longer than that, of course, and was consequential, but there is a lot of uncertainty about him pre-elevation to the throne of Peter. He was born in Genoa, but some sources say it was further south in Manarola. There is a belief that he taught canon law in Bologna, but there is no record of it. Some biographies say he was the Bishop of Albenga in 1235, but from 1230 until 1255 Albania's bishop was named Simon.

One of his first problems as pope was dealing with conflicts between Gregory IX And Holy Roman Emperor Frederick II. One was that Frederick had been supportive of a Sixth Crusade, but then was lax about taking part. Another was that Frederick had captured some territories in Lombardy belonging to the Papal States. Gregory called a general council to vote to depose Frederick, but Frederick captured two cardinals who were on their way. This intimidated the remaining cardinals, who were reluctant to oppose the emperor afterward. Gregory had denounced Frederick as a heretic (he was such a religious skeptic that Dante placed him in the circle for heretics).

Innocent, in his earlier role as Cardinal Fieschi, was on good terms with Frederick, but as pope he had to continue the policies of his predecessors, demanding the return of lands in Lombardy. Frederick refused, of course, and his continued political attacks on papal rule created enough of a hostile environment in Rome that Innocent became concerned for his freedom. He snuck out of Rome in disguise in 1244, making his way ultimately to Genoa. A few months later he went to France, winding up in Lyon where he was warmly welcomed.

In December of 1244 he summoned his bishops to the First Council of Lyon; the goal was to minimize Frederick's authority. It was the smallest general council ever: many members feared Frederick's wrath and did not attend, and bishops from the Middle East and Far East were hampered in travel by (respectively) Muslim and Mongol hostilities (see here and here). (Innocent's attempts at dealing with Mongols shortly after would fail.) The council excommunicated Frederick, throwing Europe into turmoil until Frederick's death in 1250.

With Frderick's death, Innocent felt safe in returning to Italy. He also doubled down on the idea that he hd the right to interfere with secular politics. He appointed Afonso III in Portugal. He helped Henry III of England buy a title in Italy, even though Henry had been giving trouble to Archbishop Edmund Rich.

In other news, Innocent formally approved the Order of the Poor Clares, named for Francis of Assisi's friend. (In the picture above, he is granting charters to Franciscans and Dominicans.) He reversed earlier popes' orders to round up and burn copies of the Talmud, being convinced by a team of rabbis that the Talmud was a foundation for them to be able to understand the New Testament.

His time as pope has been woven through this blog for years, and it was high time he got his own titled post to bring some of these references together in one place.

Speaking of things that get mentions and might deserve a fuller explanation, the Papal States have been mentioned above, as well as here and here. Let's explain what they were and how they got started.

Who's the Pope?

With the recent posts on rival popes and antipopes, it may be worthwhile to examine the title "pope" a little.

From the start, St. Peter was recognized as the bishop of Rome, and his position was considered a sort of "first among equals." His successor (so far as we know; we cannot always be certain of such early records) was Pope Clement I, who may be the Clement mentioned by Paul in his first letter to the Corinthians. Pope Clement wrote his own letter to the Corinthians, in which he tells them to be unified and heal a schism that was dividing them. It is considered the earliest example of the bishop of Rome acting authoritatively over far-flung Christians. There is no evidence that his right to instruct them was questioned. In fact, the Ethiopian Orthodox Church considers Clement's letter part of the New Testament.

We refer to him as "Pope Clement," but there is no evidence that he used that title himself. The first bishop of Rome to be referred to as pope (from Latin meaning "papa," but you knew that) was Damasus I (c.305 - 384), who grew up benefitting from Constantine's Edict of Milan granting protection to Christians. In fact, since "pope" meant "father," it could be and was used for bishops. Pope Leo I (called "the Great"; 440 - 461) called himself Pope, and from his time forward that title was reserved for the exclusive use of the bishop of Rome.

Rome became a suitable resting place for the bishops of Rome when Constantine granted them the use of the Lateran Palace (see photo), but sometimes the politics in Rome became unstable and prompted the pope to re-locate, not always by choice. In the 1200s the papal court could sometimes be found in Viterbo, or Orvieto or Perugia. When a pope died, the College of Cardinals would meet in his location to hold the Conclave to elect a successor.

Then there was the pope who fled Rome in disguise because of the Holy Roman Emperor. He just happens to be a pope whose time in office—ten and a half years—includes numerous references to items mentioned throughout this blog. I can't wait to tell you more.

Electing a Third Pope

The existence of rival popes in the Western Schism led to the Council of Pisa and, ultimately, to the need to elect a third pope.

After months of discussion and debate, the cardinals obedient to Avignon and those obedient to Rome joined in Conclave. Canon Law declared that an election not take place until 10 days after the death of a pope, but the cardinals agreed that the Papal See had been vacant for at least that long. The Conclave of cardinals went on for 11 days, while the general Council of Pisa continued separately. The Council felt that, if the cardinals could not find a suitable candidate who was agreeable to all, they would intervene and have their own election. This was not allowed by Canon Law, however, and did not get much traction.

Finally, Baldassare Cardinal Cossa convinced the Conclave to vote unanimously for Peter of Candia. He had been made a cardinal by Innocent VII in 1405, but had worked to heal the division between popes. On 26 June he was elected Pope Alexander V. He presided over the remaining council meetings, pledged to work for reform, and confirmed appointments and ordinations made by the various cardinals.

The two (now) antipopes repudiated the outcome of the Council of Pisa, and an interesting dilemma was raised: if Popes Benedict and Gregory were deemed illegitimate, then did that mean that their appointment of cardinals was illegitimate, and if so, could these cardinals have the authority to elect a pope? The Council of Pisa was nor received by everyone with a sigh of relief that the schism was over; there were serious concerns about its ability to elect Alexander.

In act, the controversy continued into the 20th century. Let me explain.

Alexander V's time as pope was brief: he died 3 May 1410, having been pope less than a year (that is his tomb above). He was succeeded by none other than his strongest proponent at Pisa, and Cardinal Cossa became Pope John XXIII. Keep in mind that Benedict in Avignon and Gregory in Italy never "resigned" their titles, so there were still three men claiming to be pope. In fact, Benedict outlasted John and Gregory.

The Annuario Pontificio ("The Pontifical Yearbook") listed the Roman popes as legitimate until 1409, followed by the Pisan popes elected by the reconciled cardinals; that means Gregory XII, Alexander V, and John XXIII were "official" (even though Gregory and Alexander were claiming legitimacy concurrently). I say "were" because that changed in 1958 when Angelo Cardinal Roncalli was elected pope to replace Pius XII. He chose the papal name John XXIII, claiming there had been only 22 legitimate Pope Johns. The Annuario Pontificio was re-written to indicate that the Roman Pope Gregory's time in office was officially recognized as lasting until 1415, to be succeeded by Pope Martin V.

So all that work to find a compromise candidate in Peter of Candia to become Alexander V and heal the schism has been quietly ignore, and "Alexander V" and the first "John XXIII" are now deemed antipopes.

[edit] Of course, nothing required a pope to be in Rome, and Avignon wasn't the only non-Rome location for some popes. And speaking of Popes: who was the first pope? I know what you are thinking, but wait until tomorrow for the real answer.

The Council of Pisa

To understand where this story begins, you should see this post first, and check out the map to the left.

There were two series of popes, one in Avignon and one in Rome. There was an attempt to bring the Gregory XII and Benedict XIII together in Savona, but at the last moment each side backed out when they feared being attacked and captured by the rival faction.

Following this, unrest among Gregory's cardinals caused him to summon them to Lucca and forbid them from abandoning the city. Then he really annoyed them by making four new cardinals to cement his support. This was the final straw: not only had he earlier promised not to make any more cardinals, but the four he made were his nephews.

Most cardinals deserted Gregory at this point, meeting together and writing a manifesto to all Christian nations, urging them to come to a Council at Pisa. Benedict in Avignon refused to participate, convoking his own Council of Perpignan. Gregory fled Lucca with his sole remaining loyal cardinal and wound up a guest of a powerful Italian family, the House of Malatesta. Much of Christianity, however, wanted the chaos ended and sent bishops, university theologians, and prelates to Pisa.

This Council of Pisa met on 25 March 1409. It included 22 cardinals and 80 bishops; "proxy votes" represented 100 additional bishops, 87 abbots, 41 priors or religious orders, and a total of 300 doctors of theology or canon law. A general council was declared to begin the next day.

On 26 March, convened in the Cathedral of Pisa, representatives went to the doors, opened them, and loudly in Latin called upon Benedict and Gregory to appear. Obviously the rival popes were not present, whereupon the general council condemned them essentially for contumacy (basically, contempt of court). This ritual would be repeated the next day, then the 30th, and then twice in April on the 15th and 24th, giving the pontiffs plenty of time to appear or send representatives.

The charges against the two were read on 24 April, taking three hours to go through 38 charges. After debate and determinations that lasted for weeks about the papal infractions—completely ignoring the fact that the cardinals present had aided and abetted these same—Benedict and Gregory were offered the chance to defend themselves. Their representatives were unsuccessful.

One of the issues that needed to be addressed was the merging of the two alternate colleges of cardinals. There was argument over which cardinals had remained faithful to the papacy and which were to be considered rebels caused hostility between the groups, but it was ultimately decided that it was their duty to withdraw from both popes and join together.

All in all, the council went on for weeks. Realizing that, of course, a new pope had to be elected, a new concern arose that there were too many French cardinals among them, and there could be a French pope elected who would try to remove the papacy to the Avignon complex. The argument was made that everyone, not just the cardinals, should vote. They decided to stick with canon law, however, and leave it to the assembled cardinals. The cardinals themselves met and agreed that the election of a new pope would need unanimity or a 2/3 agreement of the 10 Avignon cardinals and a 2/3 agreement of the 14 Rome cardinals. Everyone else agreed to this, and that the Conclave, the gathering of the College of Cardinals to elect a pope, should take place tomorrow.

...and I will tell you result tomorrow.

The Western Schism

When Pope Clement V decided he wanted to live in his home country, France, he moved the papal offices from the Vatican in Rome to Avignon in 1309. The papacy returned to Rome in 1377 by Gregory XI—who was French himself, but was persuaded that the papacy should reside in its original home, perhaps through the efforts of Catherine of Siena—but French cardinals were not happy with that. When Gregory died a year later, Romans were determined that they would have an Italian pope who would stay in Rome and never move the papacy again, so they started a campaign of pressure. Cardinals in Rome elected the Archbishop of Bari, the well-respected Bartolomeo Prignano, to become Pope Urban VI, on 8 April 1378.

Papal authority went to Urban's head, and his attempts at reform and his outbursts of temper did not sit well with the college of cardinals, who soon began to regret their decision. In an extraordinary move, several of them met in Anagni in central Italy and had a second election on 20 September. They claimed that the election of Urban was illegitimate because it was due to threats of intimidation and violence, and so they justified themselves in electing Robert of Geneva as Pope Clement VII. Unable to reside at the Vatican due to Urban's presence, Clement and the supporting cardinals returned to Avignon.

Thus was born the Western Schism, also called the Papal Schism or the Schism of 1378. The world had no choice but to take notice, and to take sides. Rome had the support of the Italian states, the Holy Roman Empire, England, and much of Eastern Europe and the Scandinavian countries. Avignon was supported by France, the kingdoms on the Iberian peninsula, Scotland, and several Mediterranean countries. Some nations shifted their allegiance over timeNaples, Bohemia, Flanders and Portugal (among others), started with Avignon and later switched as Rome seemed to be a safe, traditional choice.

Urban vs. Clement was only the start. Urban was succeeded by Boniface IX, then by Innocent VII, then by Gregory XII. Clement was replaced by Benedict XIII.

Now we come to Peter of Candia: had been made a cardinal by Innocent VII in 1405, and his greatest desire was to reconcile the schism. When Innocent was succeeded by Gregory, Gregory made a move that shocked both Avignon and Rome, and would lead to the next step: a solution put forth in Pisa.

By 1409, the Italian city-state of Pisa had had enough of the controversy. They decided that 30 years of papal confusion and chaos needed to be resolved, and the only way they could think of to do so was . . . (wait for it) to elect another pope!

And that story will have to wait until tomorrow.