As soon as peace is made, Catherine begs the Pope to raise the banner of the crusade. “You see yourself that these infidels incite you.” The threats of the Turks in the Mediterranean countries had now become intolerable. While France and Italy were drained by endless wars, not only their shipping but also their islands and coasts suffered ceaseless attacks from the infidel pirates. Her first letter to Urban VI ends with repeated prayers for mercy, mercy, mercy, and then she asks him to accept her love and grief as excuse for having dared to write to him and give him advice.
She sent him another short letter not long after: “Oh, Most Holy Father, be patient when they give you advice, for they do not say anything to you except for the glory of God and your own welfare, as a son should if he is really fond of his father. He cannot bear to see anything done which might bring shame or injustice on his father, and he watches zealously, for he knows that his father is only human, and has such a large family to look after that he himself cannot see everything. If his true-born sons do not watch over his honour he will often be betrayed. So it is with Your Holiness; you are father and lord of the whole of Christendom, Holy Father; we are all under your wings. You have authority over all things, but the range of your eye is limited as is all men’s, and therefore it is necessary that your children keep watch with honesty and without slavish fear, and do all that can serve the glory of God and your honour, for the safety of the souls which are under your care. I know that Your Holiness deeply desires to find helpers who can serve you, but then it is necessary to be patient with them. . . . ”
It appears that a certain Fra Bartolommeo (perhaps Bartolommeo di Dominici) had brought the Pope’s anger on his head because he had expressed himself too frankly. He was very unhappy because he had aroused the Pope’s anger, and Catherine begged Urban to turn his wrath against her if he thought he had a right to correct and punish. “I think it is my sins which are the cause of his fault, and therefore I ought to take the punishment for him.” Whichever of her sons it was who had aroused the irritable old man’s wrath, Catherine, like a loving mother, was immediately prepared to excuse him and take on herself the guilt of something which most probably was just as much the Pope’s fault as the offender’s.
On Sunday, July 18, a messenger from the Pope rode into Florence bearing an olive branch. As the news—“Peace at last”—spread over the town the Florentines broke into wild jubilation. While the bells pealed from the Cathedral and the Palazzo Vecchio, Catherine wrote and told her children the good news. She put a leaf of the blessed olive branch in her letter.
But she had been too optimistic when she wrote to the Pope that the Florentines had become more peaceful. Only two days after the peace had been made a new rebellion broke out. This time it was the working people—“il Popoli Minuti”—who had neither political status nor political rights, who rose and streamed through the town to burn and plunder. Anarchy reigned for three days, and then the revolt was crushed with an iron hand.
The peace treaty was finally signed on July 28. The fine demanded by Urban was about an eighth of what Pope Gregory had claimed. But the Florentines had to promise that all laws which were in conflict with the Church would be annulled and that the churches and monasteries which had been plundered should be compensated. The interdict was withdrawn, and Catherine’s prophecy that once the Florentines were reconciled with the Holy Father they would be his most loyal sons was fulfilled. When, shortly after, the great catastrophe came upon the Church, the Florentines stood firmly at Pope Urban VI’s side.
Catherine left Florence a couple of days after the peace treaty was signed to return to Siena—that is to say, before the news could have reached Siena. She had brought one of her most difficult missions to a successful close. But there is a certain note of sadness in the letter of farewell which she sent to the governors and the Gonfaloniere from Siena. She had wished to celebrate the feast for the holy peace with them—this peace which she had been willing to work for, even though it cost her her life. But the devil had sown so much unjust hatred against her, and she did not wish to be the cause of more sins. So she preferred to leave. . . .
The Florence which she left behind her had become a new city. Many of the men who had been most important were no longer there; some had been banished, some killed. Some of these had been her friends, some her enemies. And she could not help being full of anxiety for the future. The terrible thing which she had foreseen “when the Pope really begins to reform the Church” might happen at any moment. The Pope was in Tivoli with the four Italian cardinals. The French cardinals and the cardinals from Limousin who for months had represented the ever-growing opposition to Pope Urban, had gone to Anagni, and it was not to be expected that any good would come of their conferences.
XXI
IT WAS A FACT which was not to be denied—Bartolommeo Prignano had been elected Pope under circumstances which were both confusing and shameful. Pope Gregory XI was quite clear about the fact that there were many dangers threatening the future, and therefore had given precise instructions in his will regarding the coming papal elections. An ordinary majority should have been sufficient to make the vote of the conclave valid, and the fortress of St. Angelo, which was the key to the district round St. Peter’s Church and the Vatican, should be given to the new Pope after the approval of the six cardinals in Avignon had been obtained. But the really decisive factor was the attitude of the Roman people, Popolo Romano—the ordinary people of the eternal city.
“True-born sons of the murderers of St. Peter and St. Paul” the other Italians called them. For several generations they had been deserted by their bishop, who was also their lawful temporal prince; so the Romans had become accustomed to taking the law into their own hands—and this was true not only of the workers in Trastevere and the citizens who lived in the narrow, crooked streets between the deserted Forum and the river, but also of the barons in their fortified houses inside the city walls, or in their great fortresses on the hills outside the town. The attempts of Cola di Rienzi and Cardinal Albornoz to bring law and order back to the city were nothing but interludes in the rule of the papal legates, most of whom were Frenchmen. Because they were French the Romans mistrusted and hated them, and at times they had ample ground to mistrust and hate them. During this period the old imperial city, which had been conquered time and again throughout the centuries, became more and more depopulated and ruined. Inside the wide area within the city walls great portions of the old city became waste land, overgrown with grass and bushes. White buffalo grazed among the ruins of buildings which had half sunk into the ground—once they had had their own history, which was now forgotten, although there were legends attached to them about the terrible things which were supposed to have happened there in the old days, and of ghosts which wandered at night between the sunken arches and the underground tunnels. Churches dedicated to saints and martyrs of long ago stood roofless and gradually crumbled to dust; in the ruins the grass grew between the remains of broken pillars. Along the paths across the desolate ground a few ancient monasteries lay behind their garden walls; or some poor peasant, living in a ruin of the great old days in a couple of rooms covered by a roof of rushes from the marshes, tried to cultivate the ground. Outside the city walls lay the Campagna, ravaged by malaria and bands of robbers: otherwise lifeless. Only the small groups of pilgrims who, in spite of everything, were determined to make the dangerous pilgrimage to some ruined sanctuary, wandered over the paths, looking anxiously at the motionless rider who tended his flock of white buffaloes or grey sheep, carrying a long spear instead of a shepherd’s crook.
Pope Urban V had come to Rome in 1367, but in spite of the warnings of St. Birgitta he returned to Avignon after a sojourn of less than three years, and he died in Avignon a couple of months later—of poison, according to the Italians. Rumour had it that Pope Gregory XI too was on the point of forsaking Rome for his beloved Avignon, when he died suddenly. Often before this the Roman people had done their best to take a hand
in the papal elections—their contention was that as the Pope was also their bishop and temporal prince they had a right to have a word in the matter of the election. It was more or less certain that a French or Provencal cardinal would leave the graves of St. Peter and St. Paul as quickly as possible; and the Romans did not intend to allow themselves to be treated in this way any longer.
Of the sixteen cardinals who met at the conclave on April 7, 1378, only four were Italian. It was Wednesday of Holy Week, and the hysterical mob who poured into St. Peter’s Square shouted at the tops of their voices, “Romano le volemo”—we will have a Roman. They had been strengthened by bands of wild-looking men from the Sabine mountains, shepherds, or robbers, or both. Before the doors of the room where the conclave were to sit had been closed, some of the mob forced their way in and began to shout at the tops of their voices that they would murder the whole college of cardinals if they did not choose a Roman cardinal. Cardinal Orsini, who was himself Roman noble, went over to the screeching mob and ordered them to leave. After a while the Vatican was cleared of all those who had no business to be there, the doors were sealed, and the conclave could begin their business: but all the time they could hear the shrieks and threats from the square outside the window, where the milling crowds yelled, “Romano le volemo!”
During the night the cellars of the Vatican were broken into, and the following morning most of the mob were dangerously drunk. When the cardinals took their places after Mass the tocsin was ringing; it seemed as though the disturbances had spread over the whole of Rome. Terrified, the cardinals decided to hurry through the election before the mob broke in and murdered them. The Cardinal of Limoges stood up: “Gentlemen, as it is not God’s will that we can agree upon a member of the Holy College we must choose one from outside. It seems to me that the most worthy is the Archbishop of Bari; he is a holy and learned man, of ripe age. I propose him freely and voluntarily.” Almost all the cardinals voted in agreement—some of them somewhat hesitantly. Only Cardinal Orsini suggested that there might be some doubts as to the validity of the election as they had not been given complete freedom of choice. But his objections were overruled, and Bartolommeo Prignano was chosen as Pope by an overwhelming majority.
If he was not a Roman he was at least an Italian. A message was sent to him, and in the meantime the Holy College went through the election ceremony again and elected him—this time in the chapel—so that no doubts could arise as to the free and correct character of the election. Cardinal Orsini went to a window to inform the excited crowds outside: “Habemus Papam”—we have a Pope. At the same moment the doors were broken down and drunken men armed with sticks and stones forced their way in. Several of the cardinals were wounded and threats were shrieked at them: If they had not chosen a Roman they would be torn to pieces. . . .
Not only the cardinals, but the whole retinue of priests and servants, felt their lives threatened, and a certain curate turned towards old Cardinal Tebaldeschi, who was a Roman noble, and begged him to save all their lives. Although the upright old man protested, a degrading comedy was now performed: they put a white mitre on Cardinal Tebaldeschi, threw a red cape over his shoulders, and lifted him up to an altar. In vain he cried: “I am not the Pope, it is the Archbishop of Bari who is our Pope”, his voice was drowned in the confusion; but the crowds who recognised him were satisfied.
When Bartolommeo Prignano arrived at the Vatican the building had been cleared of most of those who had forced their way in. Some of the cardinals tried to persuade him not to receive the tiara, but in vain. He had been chosen by a majority of votes, as Pope Gregory had decreed in his will, and even though the cardinals had chosen him in a panic—there was no doubt of the fact that if they had chosen a French Pope they would immediately have been in danger of their lives, and it would moreover have been the greatest misfortune for the Church in the long run—there was no one at the time who uttered the slightest doubt about the validity of the election. On the contrary, some of the cardinals had already hastily left the Vatican to seek refuge in places they considered safer; six made their way to Castel San’ Angelo where Pierre de Got, brother of the Cardinal of Limoges, was commander, and where the garrison was largely composed of Frenchmen. But now they all came back to the Vatican to do homage to the new Pope. His most ardent supporters at this time were the Spanish cardinal Pedro de Luna and Cardinal Robert of Geneva—or at least they were the most loud-voiced in their vows of loyalty to Pope Urban VI. The day after his election the cardinals who were still in Avignon were informed, and in due course they paid their respects to the new Pope by letter. On May 8 th the results of the election were sent to the German Emperor and all the Catholic princes.
But it was not long before the first signs of catastrophe appeared. The cardinals in Avignon wrote to the French king and other Catholic princes that they were not to accept any declarations sent out in the name of Pope Urban VI. They were supported by their Provencal colleagues in Italy. During the first months of the summer the opposition against the harsh reformer who had been made Pope increased. But as yet it was still an underground movement.
If the Pope had any idea of what was going on, he at any rate paid it no attention. As the prior of the Carthusians at Gorgona had written to Catherine, Urban trusted in God and feared no man. He was convinced that he had been chosen because he was to pull up the weeds and plant the garden of Christ’s Bride with beautiful and sweet-smelling flowers, to use Catherine’s favourite simile. He started his programme with indomitable energy. He drove all the bishops who were idling in Rome back to their bishoprics, he sent out a number of bulls at lightning speed, and thundered against the luxurious and voluptuous lives of the cardinals. A sermon which he preached on the words “I am the good shepherd” was a searing attack on the worldliness of the higher clergy. Towards the poor he was kind and generous, but the Roman nobility, who had been used to considering themselves as the Holy Father’s trueborn, if not always obedient, sons, were deeply offended because the Pope showed them no consideration.
It was against Urban’s nature to show consideration for anyone, and decisions which were in themselves both good and wise led to nothing because he was so harsh and lacking in tact and the ability to understand men. It was too much for weak men, of more or less good will, who knew in their hearts that the Pope was right and that they ought to cooperate with him, when the Pope demanded, with harsh and angry words, that they should immediately change their way of life and give up all the small comforts they had grown accustomed to, in order to live in a state of self-denial suitable for the strictest ascetic. They were agreed that it was time for a reform within the Church. But if this were reform. . . And the language he used when he broke into a rage! “Shut up!” he said to the cardinals. He shouted “Pazzo!”—Idiot—to Cardinal Orsini, and “Ribaldo!”—Bandit—to the Cardinal of Geneva. His electors began to regret their choice bitterly.
In the hottest part of the summer the Pope with the four Italian cardinals moved up to Tivoli. The opposing cardinals, thirteen in number, also left the town and gathered in Anagni. The Pope, who eventually realised that danger was afoot, sent the Cardinals Orsini, Brossano and Corsini to negotiate with them. Only faithful old Cardinal Tebaldeschi remained with the Pope. The ambassadors returned to the Pope from Anagni without having achieved anything.
In August the French and Provençal cardinals sent a letter addressed to “the Bishop of Bari”, and a declaration in which they went through all that had happened on the election day. They said they had only chosen Bartolommeo Prignano to avoid certain death. The thirteen cardinals therefore declared him an unlawful pope. They then put themselves under the protection of Count Gaetano of Fondi. The Count had been papal deputy in Anagni and Campania, the port of the Papal States which bordered on Naples. But the new Pope had taken this honour from him and appointed another in his stead. He therefore considered himself to be mortally offended by the Pope. A short while after, the cardinals moved to Fondi—further fro
m Rome and nearer Naples—where the Queen—Joanna—also had a grudge against the man who had once been her subject, and also, in the distant past, when she was a relatively innocent young woman of nineteen, her spiritual director. The conspirators hoped to win her over to their side.
It was just at this time that Catherine had completed her mission in Florence and started her journey back to Siena with her faithful friends. She spent the hot days of August on a farm belonging to her beloved sister-in-law, Lisa Colombini, a few miles from the town. With bitter sorrow she heard the terrible news from Rome: her friends, first and foremost Raimondo, kept her informed of all that went on. The news filled her with a terrible feeling of guilt. She, who had been given such wonderful graces by her Lord, should have done so much more—prayed much more earnestly, practised stricter self-denial, been more eloquent, written more and better. She collapsed under the weight of her own inadequacy and became ill again. Then one morning she crept into the little country church, so broken that she did not dare to approach the altar’s Sacrament. But a new vision came to her which filled her with courage and zeal—it was as though she once again experienced the cleansing bath of Christ’s burning love.
It seemed as though her tremendous energy could be even greater. After her return to Siena she kept three secretaries at work—they wrote letters for her to nuns and monks who asked her advice in things spiritual, to friends in all the towns where she had been, to people in power in the Italian towns, and to the powers-that-be in foreign countries. She used all her talents to convince them that Urban was the lawful Pope, to whom all Christians owed their loyalty. For the schism was not to be avoided. At the beginning of September the three Italian cardinals went to Fondi—there were only three now, as old Tebaldeschi was dead. It was rumoured that Pope Urban was to create a number of new cardinals—there was no doubt that he would choose men after his own hard heart. So no time was to be lost if the fatal papal elections of April were to be annulled. The King of France let it be known that he would support the election of a French Pope. On September 20th the cardinals in Fondi elected Robert of Geneva; there was one vote against, and the Italian cardinals refused to vote. The new Pope called himself Clement VII. (But when Giulio de’ Medici became Pope and took the name of Clement he was called the Seventh; the schismatic pope of Avignon was not counted on the list of the Popes.)
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