Chapter 28
The
Decline of Papal Power
From the time of Innocent
III. down to the age of the Reformation, the Lord was preparing the way
for that great event by weakening the power of the popes over human
governments, and over the minds of men generally. The decline was slow,
at least for about a hundred years, for the whole power of Satan was put
forth to support the "mystery of iniquity;" but it pleased God to weaken
her power by raising up men of ability and integrity to expose her many
evils. These witnesses we propose to examine in our next chapter. In the
meantime we may add that the whole mind of Europe had become so
familiarised with the assertion of the papal claims, that they were
accepted as an essential part of Christianity. The ruling idea of this
great theocratic scheme was the absolute supremacy of the spiritual over
the temporal power, "as of the soul over the body, as of eternity over
time as of Christ over Caesar, as of God over man — that all earthly
power is subordinate to the spiritual power in every respect either
mediately or immediately touching on or affecting religion or its
chief." This principle, first asserted in all its fulness by Hildebrand,
acquired its "firmest establishment and greatest expansion" in the able
hands of Innocent. He stood on the summit of pontifical power and glory.
What had been the day-dream of many of his predecessors was fully
realized during his pontificate; but from this pinnacle the crowned
priest begins to descend.
Details of the long and
ruinous wars between the papacy and the empire which immediately
followed, especially between Gregory IX., Innocent IV., and Frederick
II., would be unsuited to our pages and unnecessary for the purpose of
our history. We will therefore content ourselves with a rapid sketch of
the leading pontiffs during this period of papal decline.
In the year 1216,
Honorius
III succeeded
Innocent. The whole attention of the new pontiff was devoted to the
promotion of the holy war. The Crusades had become so established an
article in the papal creed, and so necessary to the maintenance of the
papal power, that no cardinal who was not in heart and soul a Crusader
would have been raised to the chair of St. Peter. This was the highest
qualification of the chief priest of the christian religion. Hence the
first act of Honorius after his installation was to send a circular
letter to all Christendom, urging Christians in the most exciting terms
to contribute either in money or in person to the new campaign.
Frederick II., the Emperor-elect, in his youthful ardour had made a
solemn vow to Innocent to engage without loss of time in a new crusade;
not against the now crushed Albigenses, whose ashes were still
smouldering, but for the destruction of the Mahometans, and the
liberation of the holy sepulchre from infidel desecration. And no one in
those times who had taken the vow was allowed to excuse himself. If
unable to undertake the expedition in person, he must find substitutes
or money. Letters were instantly dispatched to Frederick, reminding him
of his late crusading vow, and pressing his immediate departure for the
Holy Land. But Frederick was yet a youth, his rival Otho was still
alive, his realm in the most unsettled state, so that he could not
possibly leave for some time. Neither menace nor persuasion could move
Frederick, though in him the papal hopes were chiefly centered.
The
Conquest and Loss of Damietta
The call was now fiercely
sounded and the hymn of battle sung by the emissaries of the pope
throughout France, Germany, Italy, Spain, Hungary, and the whole of the
West: the kings, princes, and nobles, were besieged and harassed to
collect without delay, ships, men, money, arms, and all needed supplies.
But the pope found to his mortification that the enthusiasm of former
ages had passed away — that Honorius had no longer the magic power of
Urban. Neither papal legates nor preaching friars could kindle in the
hearts of the people a zeal for the holy war. Only one king obeyed the
summons, Andrew of Hungary. Princes and prelates, dukes, archbishops and
bishops, joined the Hungarian king. A large force was collected. The
first object of attack was
Damietta,
which, after a siege
of sixteen months, fell into the hands of the crusaders. But the
destruction of human life for this papal folly was fearful. "The
inhabitants had been so much reduced by famine, pestilence, and the
sword, that out of eighty thousand only three thousand are said to have
remained alive; the air was tainted by the smell of corpses; yet even in
the midst of these horrors the captors could not restrain their cruelty
and rapacity."*
{*J.C. Robertson, vol. 3, p.
383.}
The report of this splendid
victory was received by the pope with exultation. His hopes of ultimate
success were stimulated to the highest pitch. But these hopes were soon
to be disappointed. It was besieged the following year by an
overwhelming force of infidels under the active and able leadership of
Malek al Kamul, Sultan of Egypt and Syria. Damietta was surrendered.
The deep mortification of the
pope vented itself on the Emperor. The failure of the expedition, the
calamities of the Christians, were ascribed to his wilful
procrastination. It is supposed that thirty-five thousand Christians,
and about seventy thousand Mussulmans, had perished at Damietta. But
defeat and disaster only stimulated the zeal of the pontiff for fresh
crusades. During a reign of eleven years, Honorius had been chiefly
engaged in promoting crusades against the Albigenses in the south of
France and against the Saracens in Palestine. In 1227 he died, still
pressing the departure of Frederick, and, we are not sorry to add, still
pressing it in vain.
Gregory
IX. and Frederick II.
Gregory
IX., a near relation
of Innocent III., and a staunch disciple of his school, was immediately
raised to the pontifical throne with loud and unanimous acclamations.
His coronation was of the most gorgeous character. "He returned from St.
Peter's, wearing two crowns, mounted on a horse richly caparisoned, and
surrounded by cardinals, clothed in purple, and a numerous clergy. The
streets were spread with tapestry, inlaid with gold and silver, the
noblest productions of Egypt, and the most brilliant colours of India,
and perfumed with various aromatic odours."* He had reached his
eighty-first year when he ascended the throne of St. Peter. But at that
extreme age his mental faculties were unimpaired. He is spoken of as
having the ambition, the vigour, almost the activity, of youth; in
purpose and action, inflexible, in temper, warm and vehement.
{*Waddington, vol. 2, p.
281.}
Frederick,
it will be remembered,
was a ward of Innocent III. The adventures, perils, and successes of the
youthful king, as he struggled upward to his hereditary throne in
Sicily, and to the imperial crown of Germany, are almost unparalleled in
history. During the pontificate of Honorius his character was expanding
into the prime of manhood; he was thirty-three when that pontiff died.
At this time he was in undisputed possession of the empire, with all its
rights in northern Italy, king of Apulia, Sicily, and Jerusalem.
Historians vie with
each other in their
descriptions of his character, and the enumeration of his virtues and
vices. Milman, in his usual poetical style, describes him as at once the
magnificent sovereign, the gallant knight, the poet, the lawgiver, the
patron of arts, letters, and science, whose farseeing wisdom seemed to
anticipate some of those views of equal justice, of the advantages of
commerce, of the cultivation of the arts of peace, and the toleration of
adverse religions, which even in a more dutiful son of the church would
doubtless have seemed godless indifference. Others describe him as at
once selfish and generous, placable and cruel, courageous and faithless;
and not forbidding himself the most licentious indulgences. His personal
accomplishments were remarkable; he could speak fluently the languages
of all the nations which were reckoned among his subjects Greek, Latin,
Italian, German, French, and Arabic.
Both the papacy and the
empire were now represented by able and resolute champions of their
respective claims. Frederick would bear no superior, Gregory no equal.
The Emperor was determined to maintain his monarchical rights; the pope
was equally determined to maintain the papal dignity as above the
imperial. The mortal strife began; it was the last contest between the
empire and the papacy; but the Crusaders were indispensable to papal
victory.
The aged canonist addressed
himself to his work. His first and immediate act after his coronation
was to urge the renewal of the Crusades at the various courts of Europe.
But his appeals were addressed to deaf ears. Lombardy, France, England,
and Germany, persisted in their hostility to the Crusades and to their
promoters. The fall of Damietta was fresh in their minds. Nothing,
therefore, remained to the obdurate old man but to push on Frederick.
Although, for political reasons, he was unwilling to leave his
dominions, yet, to please the pope, he collected a considerable armament
of men and ships, and embarked from Brindisi. But a pestilence broke
out, which carried off many of his soldiers; and among them the
Landgrave of Thuringia and two bishops. The Emperor himself, after being
three days at sea, was overtaken by the malady, and returned to land for
the benefit of the baths. This caused the dispersion of the army, and
the temporary abandonment of the expedition.
Frederick
Disregards the Papal Excommunication
The pope was infuriated; he
treated the story of his illness as an empty pretence, and, without
waiting or asking for explanation, he launched the sentence of
excommunication against the perjured outcast, Frederick of Swabia. This
took place within six months from his elevation to the See, and from
that day Frederick found but little rest in this world till he found it
in his grave. In vain did he send bishops to plead his cause, and
witnesses to the reality of his sickness: the pope's only answer was,
"You fraudulently pretended sickness, and returned to your palaces to
enjoy the delights of leisure and luxury;" and he renewed the
excommunication again and again, requiring all bishops to publish it.
But in place of Frederick
being humbled, and brought before Gregory IX., as Henry IV. was brought
before Gregory VII. at Canosa, he boldly denounces the whole system of
popery. "Your predecessors," he wrote to Gregory, "have never ceased to
encroach upon the rights of kings and princes; they have disposed of
their lands and territories, and distributed them among the minions and
favourites of their court; they have dared to absolve subjects from
their oaths of allegiance; they have even introduced confusion into the
administration of justice, by binding and loosing, and persisting,
without regard to the laws of the land. Religion was the pretext for all
those trespasses upon the civil government; but the real motive was a
desire to subjugate governors and subjects alike to an intolerable
tyranny — to extort money, and so long as that was to be got, to care
little if the whole structure of society were shaken to its
foundations." And many other things of a like nature did Frederick dare
to say, which shows the weakened state of the papal power. At the same
time he was a good Catholic king in many respects, enacting severe laws
against the heretics; but he wanted the pope to keep his own place and
rule the church, and leave him to rule the empire. He was willing that
the pope should be the
clerical,
but he must be the
lay, chief.*
{*See a long letter to Henry
III. of England, by the Emperor, in which he justly and severely
reproaches the Roman church. Waddington's History, vol. 2, p. 281.}
Frederick's great crime, in
the mind of the fanatical pontiff, was his reluctance to go to the Holy
Land. He had preferred the interests of his empire to the orders of the
Holy See. This prudential calculation was his unpardonable sin. He did
not see the sense of sacrificing men, money, and ships, without a
reasonable prospect of success. He was resolved, however, to fulfil his
vow and prove his sincerity as a soldier of the cross.
In the end of June, 1228, he
again sailed from Brindisi. Much of the deadly animosity against the
Mahometans which had animated the older Crusaders had passed away.
Frederick was on friendly terms with the sultan; so that, instead of
seeking by fire and sword the extermination of the followers of Mahomet,
the Emperor proposed a peaceful treaty. This was agreed to by the
generous Kamul, and a treaty was concluded on the 18th of February,
1229, by which
Jerusalem
was to be made over to the Christians,
with the exception of the
temple, which, although open to them, was to remain under the care of
the Moslem. Nazareth, Bethlehem, Sidon, and other places, were to be
given up. By this treaty the Crusaders had gained more than they had for
many years ventured to expect as possible.*
{*J.C. Robertson, vol. 3, p.
393.}
But this bloodless victory,
gained by an excommunicated monarch, exasperated the hoary pontiff to
frenzy. He denounced, in terms of furious resentment, the unheard-of
presumption of one under the ban of the church daring to set his
unhallowed foot on the sacred soil of the Saviour's passion and
resurrection; and bewailed the pollution which the city and the holy
places had contracted from the Emperor's presence. But God overruled
this remarkable event, in His providence, to lay bare to all mankind the
hollowness of Gregory's professed enthusiasm for the liberation of the
Holy Land. His own papal and personal dignity were a thousand times
dearer to him than the birth-place of Christ. He resorted to every
device which his own inventive malice, and that of his advisers, could
suggest to accomplish the failure of the expedition and the ruin of
Frederick. His minorite friars were dispatched to the patriarch and the
military orders of Jerusalem, to throw every impediment in the way, with
the expressed intent that Frederick might find either a grave or a
dungeon in Palestine. A plot was laid by some Templars for surprising
Frederick on an expedition to bathe in the Jordan; but, the plot being
discovered, the Templars were disappointed. The revengeful old man,
however, had not yet done plotting. He collected a considerable force,
and, headed by John of Brienne, invaded the Apulian dominions of the
Emperor. Tidings of these movements brought Frederick with all speed
from the East. The papal armies fled at his approach, and the whole
country was rapidly recovered by the influence of his presence.
But the papal sword was now
drawn — the sword of implacable strife and discord. During the course of
a long reign, Frederick, the greatest of the Swabian house, "was
excommunicated for not taking the cross, excommunicated for not setting
out to the Holy Land, excommunicated for setting out, excommunicated in
the Holy Land, excommunicated for returning, after having made an
advantageous peace with the Mahometans," was deposed from his throne,
and his subjects absolved from their oath of allegiance. But without
attempting further to describe the military adventures of the empire, or
to trace the faithless politics of the papacy, we will only add, that
the wretched old pontiff died in his ninety-ninth year, in the midst of
hostilities, and from a fit of wrathful agitation. He was succeeded by
Innocent IV., who followed in the footsteps of Innocent III. and Gregory
IX. The cause of Frederick gained nothing by the change of pontiffs. He
lived till the year 1250, when, in the fifty-sixth year of his age and
the twenty-seventh of his reign, he died in the arms of his son,
Manfred, having confessed, and received absolution from the faithful
archbishop of Palermo.
With the death of Frederick
we might suppose that papal hostilities would have at least paused for a
little; but it was far otherwise. The hatred that followed him to his
grave, and far beyond it, pursued his sons, until it was extinguished in
the blood of the last scion of his house, on the scaffold, at Naples.
The war was carried on between what was called the Guelphic and the
Ghibelline armies, or the papal and the imperial factions. Pope Clement
IV. invited the cruel Count Charles of Anjou, the brother of Louis IX.,
to hasten to the help of the Guelphic army, with the promise of the
crown of Sicily. "He accepted," says Greenwood, "the papal commission
with the eagerness of an adventurer, and in the reckless spirit of a
crusader. He was one of the most accomplished of the tyrants that figure
in the world's history: cruelty, rapacity, lust, and corruption, wrought
their perfect work under his command." With a large army, which had been
raised for the rescue of the Holy Land, he entered Italy. Some of the
bravest of the chivalry and gentry of France were in this "army of the
cross." But in place of going to assist their brethren in Palestine
against the Mahometans, the pope absolved them from their vow, promised
them the forgiveness of sins and eternal blessedness, to turn their arms
against their brethren of the house and followers of the late Emperor.
This was papal zeal and honesty for the deliverance of the holy
sepulchre.
Charles of
Anjou being crowned
king of Sicily, the pilgrims received a licence to slay and plunder in
the quarters pointed out by the pope; and under his direction they
invaded the fairest portions of the Emperor's dominions. But he was in
his grave, and the magic of his name was gone. His sons hastened to
collect such adventurers as their finances enabled them to assemble, the
contest for a time was doubtful, but the well-disciplined chivalry of
France at length overcame the ill-trained bands of the young princes.
Manfred fell in battle, Conrad was cut off suddenly by death, and the
younger Conradin, with his youthful cousin, prince Frederick of Bavaria,
were taken prisoners, and beheaded by Charles in the public square at
Naples.
Christendom heard with a
shudder the news of this unparalleled atrocity. For no other crime than
fighting for his hereditary throne against the pope's pretender,
Conradin, the last heir of the Swabian house, was executed as a felon
and a rebel on a public scaffold. The pope was charged with
participation in the murder of a son and heir of kings; he had put the
sword into the tyrant's hands, and must stand before the tribunal of
divine and human judgment, as stained with the blood of Conradin. In the
end of the following month the detested pope followed his victim to the
grave, beyond which it is not our province to go, but sure we are that
the Judge of all the earth will do right, and that from the throne of
divine righteousness he will hear the sentence of eternal justice, which
admits of no succeeding change for ever. The fire is everlasting, the
worm never dies, the chain can never be broken, the walls can never be
scaled, the gates can never be opened, the past can never be forgotten,
the upbraidings of conscience can never be silenced — everything
combines to fill the soul with the agonies of despair, and that for ever
and ever. Who would not desire, above all things, to be pardoned and
saved through faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, who died to save the chief
of sinners? (Mark 9: 44-50)
The
Overruling Hand of God
In the providence of God this
odious crime, which could never be forgotten by the monarchs and people
of Europe, must have tended greatly to discredit and weaken the papal
power, and to strengthen the hands of the civil ruler against the
usurpations and encroachments of the church of Rome. The change becomes
more apparent from this date. The tragic death of Conradin of
Hohenstaufen, and of Frederick of Bavaria, took place in 1268, and the
famous
"Pragmatic
Sanction" became the
"Magna Charta" of the Gallican church in 1269. This document was issued
by the most pious king, Louis IX. of France, who is commonly called St.
Louis. The whole tone of this edict is antipapal. It limits the
interference of the court of Rome in the elections of the clergy, and
directly denies its right of ecclesiastical taxation, except with the
sanction of the king and the church of France. Nothing could be more
just and liberal, but nothing could more directly oppose the pretensions
of the See of Rome. Under the fostering care of the civil lawyers, who
were now establishing in the minds of men a rival authority to that of
the hierarchy and canon law, the Pragmatic Sanction became a great
charter of independence to the Gallican church.
This anti-papal edict, coming
from the most religious of kings — a canonized saint — awoke no
opposition on the part of the Roman See. Had such a law been promulgated
by Frederick II., or any of his race, the effect would have been very
different. But it is more than probable that neither Louis nor the pope
foresaw what would be made of this pious decree — originally intended
for the benefit and reformation of the clergy. But in the hands of
Parliaments, lawyers, and ambitious monarchs, it became the barrier
against which the encroachments and lofty pretensions of Rome were
destined to be broken to pieces.
Before concluding our already
rather long chapter, we must briefly glance at the pontificate of
Boniface VIII., as it is the crowning evidence of the papal decline, and
the hinge on which its future history turns.
Boniface
VIII. and Philip the Fair
A.D. 1295
to 1303
In less than forty years from
the promulgation of this famous edict, since known in history as the
"Pragmatic Sanction," the proud and imperious pontiff,
Boniface
VIII., was openly
defied by the king of France. He was the first to teach the nations of
Europe that the Roman bishops could be vanquished, and be trampled under
the feet of the sovereign, as they had trampled for ages the sovereigns
of Europe under their feet. Philip the Fair — so called from his
personal appearance, certainly not from his actions — was as high-minded
as strong-handed, as arrogant, as jealous, as violent, as unrelenting as
Boniface, and even surpassed him in craft and subtlety. The pride of
Boniface was his ruin; it acknowledged no limits, and disdained to bend
to circumstances, and no considerations of religion, policy, or humanity
could repress his violence and cruelty. But the high looks and the
haughty pride of the prelate were soon to be brought low. He was deeply
involved in many quarrels with many nations, sovereigns, and noble
families; but the crafty and powerful king of France proved more than
his match. When Boniface sent an extravagant demand to Philip, he sent
back a contemptuous reply. And when bull after bull, in burning wrath,
issued from the Vatican against the king, he caused them to be publicly
burned at Paris, and sent back a message to his holiness that it was the
office of a pope to exhort, not to command, and that he would suffer no
dictator in his affairs.
But matters could not stop
here; Philip determined on humbling his adversary. In strengthening his
position against the proceedings of Rome, he had recourse to the most
constitutional means. While Boniface was offending the population of
France by his intemperate attacks on the king the politic king was
attracting the admiration of his people by standing up for the dignity
of his crown and the welfare of the nation against the encroachments of
the pope. He assembled the nobles and prelates of France, and with them
summoned the representatives of the third estate, the burgesses of
France — said to be the first convocation of the States General. This
plan was soon followed by other kings which deeply affected the future
history of the papacy. The king had the satisfaction of obtaining a
strong protest against the papal demands, and the assertion of the
independence of the crown.
Boniface, not perceiving this
crisis in his own history and in that of the papacy, blindly pursued
with an ill-timed arrogance his former course. Addressing Philip in a
letter he says, "God has set me over the nations and the kingdoms, to
root out and to pull down, to destroy, to build, to plant in His name
and by His doctrine. Let no one persuade you, my son, that you have no
superior, or that you are not subject to the chief of the ecclesiastical
hierarchy. He who holds that opinion is senseless, and he who
obstinately maintains it is an infidel, separate from the flock of the
good shepherd. Wherefore we declare, define, and pronounce, that it is
absolutely essential to the salvation of every human being that he be
subject to the Roman pontiff." The king's answer was moderate, but firm
and defiant. Perplexities increased. Not content with these assertions,
the pope laid an interdict upon France, excommunicated the king, and
offered his crown to another. But Philip, in no wise troubled with these
censures, which were now powerless, published an ordinance which
prohibited the exportation of all gold, silver, jewels, arms, horses, or
other munitions of war from the realm. By this ordinance the pope
himself was deprived of his revenues from France.
The
Humiliation of the Pontiff
Burning with rage, Boniface
repeated and redoubled his menaces. But Philip now determined on a
shorter path to settle the contest. He dispatched a trustworthy officer,
Nogaret, with Sciarra
Colonna, a member of a noble Italian house which Boniface had ruined and
desolated, and who was, of course, the sworn enemy of the pope. These,
with other adventurers, and three hundred armed horsemen, had strict
orders to arrest the pope wherever he might be found, and bring him a
prisoner to Paris. The perplexed old man now in his eighty-sixth year —
had retired to his palace at Anagni, his native place, to compose
another bull, in which he maintained, "that as vicar of Christ, he had
the power to govern kings with a rod of iron, and to dash them to pieces
like a potter's vessel." But his blasphemous assumption of omnipotence
was soon turned into a spectacle of human weakness and death.
A shout was heard; the pope,
and the cardinals, who were all assembled around him, were startled with
the trampling of armed horse, and the terrible cry, "Death to pope
Boniface! Long live the king of France!" The soldiers were immediately
masters of the pontifical palace. Nearly all the cardinals, and even the
personal attendants of the pope fled. He was left alone, but he lost not
his self-command. Like the English Thomas a Becket, he awaited the final
blow with courage and resolution. He hurriedly threw the mantle of St.
Peter over his shoulders, placed the crown of Constantine on his head,
grasped the keys in one hand and the cross in the other, and seated
himself on the papal throne. His age, intrepidity, and religious
majesty, struck the conspirators with awe. When Nogaret and Colonna saw
the venerable form and dignified composure of their enemy, they
refrained from their sanguinary purpose, and satisfied themselves with
heaping vulgar abuse on the wretched old pontiff. The wrongs inflicted
on the families and friends of these officers by the cruel pope had
extinguished every feeling towards him but revenge. But in the
providence of God they were restrained from shedding the blood of a
helpless old man in his eighty-sixth year.
While the leaders were thus
employed, the body of the conspirators had dispersed themselves
throughout the splendid apartments in eager pursuit of plunder. "The
palaces of the pope," says Milman, "and of his nephew were plundered, so
vast was the wealth, that the annual revenues of all the kings in the
world would not have been equal to the treasures found and carried off
by Sciarra's freebooting soldiers. His very private chamber was
ransacked; nothing was left but bare walls."
At length the people of
Anagni were aroused to
insurrection. They assaulted the soldiers by whom they had been
overawed. But as they were now in possession of the plunder, and the
pope imprisoned, they were not unwilling to withdraw. The pope was
restored to his freedom; infuriated by the disgrace of his captivity, he
hurried to Rome burning with revenge. But the violence of his passion
overpowered his reason; he refused nourishment; he cried for revenge;
but he was now impotent as other men. He removed all his attendants,
shut himself up in a room lest any one might see him die — but he died;
and he died alone; and will stand before the judgment-seat of God alone;
and have to answer alone for the deeds done in the body, and under a
responsibility entirely his own. We cross not the line, but what, oh
what! must the eternal portion be of one, of whom impartial history
says, "of all the Roman pontiffs, Boniface has left the darkest name for
craft, arrogance, ambition, even for avarice and cruelty."*
{*See Dean Milman, vol. 5, p.
143; Dean Waddington, vol. 2, p. 319; Greenwood, vol. 6, p. 277.}
Reflections on the Death of Boniface
Five hundred and seventy-two
years have rolled heavily and drearily over the dark regions of hell
since Boniface died by his own suicidal course. What time for
reflection, reproach, remorse, despair! Why, oh why, will men,
intelligent men, risk an eternity of misery for a few short years of
earthly glory, or sensual gratification, or the love of self in any way?
But alas, the most solemn warnings are disregarded; the most gracious
invitations of mercy are rejected, in the eager chase after their own
selfish object. And when they have reached it, what is it? How much do
they enjoy it? How long do they possess it? Only nine years did Boniface
reign as supreme pontiff, and in order to secure that shadowy gleam of
glory, he accomplished privately the murder of his predecessor
Celestine, whom he had supplanted. But as a man sows, so must he also
reap. Celestine has the compassions and sympathies of posterity; but
over
the tomb
of Boniface all
posterity has written,
"He mounted the chair like a fox, he reigned like a lion, he died like a
dog." And so it was, without the consolations of the mercy of God and
without the tender ministries of man, he died. When his bedroom door was
burst open, he was found cold and stiff. His white locks were stained
with blood, the top of his staff bore the marks of his teeth, and was
covered with foam.
How happy they, we are ready
to exclaim, who have an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that
fadeth not away, reserved in heaven for all whose faith and hope are
firmly fixed on Christ alone. They are the children of God by faith in
Christ Jesus; they belong to the royal family of heaven; they need not
seek after earthly glory; they are heirs of God and joint-heirs with
Christ. They have a throne that can never be shaken, a crown that can
never be cast to the ground, a sceptre that can never be plucked from
their hands, an inheritance that can never be alienated. Still they can
afford to linger over the melancholy end of a fellow-sinner with
profound pity, and seek to turn that scene of darkest and deepest sorrow
into an occasion of spiritual profit for others. One look of faith to
the Saviour would have been life to his soul, chief of sinners though he
was, and the first look of faith is eternal life to the chief of sinners
today. "Look unto Me, and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth: for I
am God, and there is none else." (Isa. 45: 22)
But we must now return to our
history.
The Popes
of Avignon
We have been at some pains to
present to our readers, as fully as our space would admit, the quarrel
between Boniface and Philip, as it is one of the great epochs in the
papal history. From this moment it sank rapidly and never rose again to
the same commanding height. But the degradation of the papal chair was
not yet complete according to the hard and unrelenting spirit of Philip.
His next object was to have the pope under his own eye, and as his
abject slave. This he accomplished in Clement V., who was raised to the
chair in the year 1305. His election led to the most debasing period in
the history of the Romish church. Clement, who was a native of France,
and the king's obedient servant, immediately transferred the papal
residence from Rome to Avignon. The pope was now a French prelate, Rome
was no longer the metropolis of Christendom. This period of banishment
lasted about seventy years, and is spoken of in history as the
Babylonian captivity of the popes in Avignon. The great line of
mediaeval pontiffs, the Gregorys, the Alexanders, and the Innocents,
expired with Boniface VIII. After seventy years of exile they emerged
from their state of slavery to the kings of France, but only to resume a
modified supremacy.
Philip
survived his adversary
eleven years; he died A.D. 1314. History speaks of him as one of the
most unprincipled, evil-hearted kings that ever reigned. But nothing so
blackens his memory as his cruel assault on the order of the Templars.
His avarice was excited by their wealth, and he resolved on the
dissolution of the order, the destruction of the leaders, and the
appropriation of their wealth. He knew that thousands of the best manors
in France belonged to the institution, and that the spoils of such a
company would make him the richest king in Christendom. In order to lay
his hand on such treasures, he first sought to discredit the knights
because of their defeat at Courtrai — the battle of the Spurs; then he
exacted the consent of his creature, Pope Clement V., and summoned a
council of the realm to sanction the suppression of the order. Having
now these authorities to support him — the sacred and the civil — his
covetous and cruel ends were gained. Numbers of these gallant Christian
knights — for such they were, though they had greatly degenerated from
their original vows — were seized and thrown into prison, on a charge of
having dishonoured the cross, and trampled on the sign of salvation. The
severest tortures were applied to crush out confessions of guilt,
numbers were condemned and burned alive, sixty-eight were burned alive
at Paris in 1310. The grand master, James de Molay, was also burned at
Paris in 1314. Letters were sent to all other kings and princes, under
the sanction of the pope and Philip, to pursue the same course; but the
European sovereigns in general were satisfied with the spoils, and
adopted gentler methods in dissolving the order.
The reader may here note for
further examination what we may call a new division in the history of
Europe. The
papacy,
feudalism, and
knighthood, which had
risen and flourished together since about the time of Charlemagne,
fell together during
the reign of Philip the Fair.
But a heavy cloud was
gathering over the house of the cruellest and worst of kings. The
darkest shades of immorality covered with shame and disgrace his whole
family. The deep dishonour of
the royal
house of France
through the infidelity of his queen and his three daughters-in-law sank
into his heart, and hastened his end. The people now said, it is the
vengeance of heaven for the outrage on Boniface, others said, it is for
the iniquitous persecution and extinction of the Templars. But he was
now before a tribunal without the shelter of a pope, or the sanction of
a national assembly, and must answer to God for every deed done in the
body, and for every word uttered by his lips; for even the thoughts and
counsels of the heart must be brought into judgment. And neither the
people nor the ermine can shelter a sinner there; nothing but the blood
of Christ, sprinkled as it were on the door-posts of the heart before we
leave this world, can be of any avail in the waters of death. Those who
neglect to apply the blood of Christ by faith now, must be engulfed for
ever in the cold, deep, dark waters of eternal judgment. But the blood
of Jesus Christ, God's Son, cleanses us who believe from all sin.
We now leave this fresh
division of our history, and take up the line of witnesses, and the
forerunners of the Reformation.