Pope Benedict XII (1334-1342): The Guardian of Orthodoxy 9789462986770

Table of contents :
Contents......Page 5
Abbreviations......Page 7
List of Illustrations......Page 11
Introduction: Benedict XII, the Guardian of Orthodoxy......Page 13
1. Jacques Fournier and Thirteenth- Century Inquisitorial Methods......Page 27
2. Recovering a Theological Advice by Jacques Fournier......Page 57
3. Benedict XII and the Beatific Vision......Page 81
4. A New Seat for the Papacy: Benedict XII, Avignon, and the Comtat Venaissin......Page 107
5. In the Footsteps of St Peter : New Light on the Half-Length Images of Benedict XII by Paolo da Siena and Boniface VIII by Arnolfo di Cambio in Old St Peter’s......Page 131
6. Benedict XII and Italy : Restoring Orthodoxy and Consolidating Papal Sovereignty after John XXII......Page 167
7. Benedict XII and the Outbreak of the Hundred Years’ War......Page 191
8. Benedict XII and the Crusades......Page 217
9. Benedict XII and the partes Orientis......Page 241
Index of names......Page 269
Index of subjects......Page 277

Citation preview

Pope Benedict XII (1334–1342)

Church, Faith and Culture in the Medieval West The essential aim of this series is to present high quality, original and international scholarship covering all aspects of the Medieval Church and its relationship with the secular world in an accessible form. Publications have covered such topics as The Medieval Papacy, Monastic and Religious Orders for both men and women, Canon Law, Liturgy and Ceremonial, Art, Architecture and Material Culture, Ecclesiastical Administration and Government, Clerical Life, Councils and so on. Our authors are encouraged to challenge existing orthodoxies on the basis of the thorough examination of sources. These books are not intended to be simple text books but to engage scholars worldwide. The series, originally published by Ashgate, has been published by Amsterdam University Press since 2018. Series editors: Brenda Bolton, Anne J. Duggan and Damian J. Smith

Pope Benedict XII (1334–1342) The Guardian of Orthodoxy

Edited by Irene Bueno

Amsterdam University Press

Cover illustration: Pope Benedict XII, with the kind permission of the Biblioteca dell’Archiginnasio. Detail from the Vaticinia Pontificum, Bologna, Biblioteca dell’Archiginnasio, MS A.2848, c. 8v. Cover design: Coördesign, Leiden Lay-out: Crius Group, Hulshout Amsterdam University Press English-language titles are distributed in the US and Canada by the University of Chicago Press. isbn 978 94 6298 677 0 e-isbn 978 90 4853 814 0 doi 10.5117/9789462986770 nur 684 | 704 © I. Bueno / Amsterdam University Press B.V., Amsterdam 2018 All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the written permission of both the copyright owner and the author of the book.

Contents Abbreviations 7 List of Illustrations 11 Introduction: Benedict XII, the Guardian of Orthodoxy

13

1. Jacques Fournier and Thirteenth-Century Inquisitorial Methods

27

2. Recovering a Theological Advice by Jacques Fournier

57

3. Benedict XII and the Beatific Vision

81

Irene Bueno

Elizabeth Sherman

Sylvain Piron

Christian Trottmann

4. A New Seat for the Papacy: Benedict XII, Avignon, and the Comtat Venaissin

107

5. In the Footsteps of St Peter: New Light on the HalfLength Images of Benedict XII by Paolo da Siena and Boniface VIII by Arnolfo di Cambio in Old St Peter’s

131

6. Benedict XII and Italy: Restoring Orthodoxy and Consolidating Papal Sovereignty after John XXII

167

7. Benedict XII and the Outbreak of the Hundred Years’ War

191

8. Benedict XII and the Crusades

217

9. Benedict XII and the partes Orientis

241

Valérie Theis

Claudia Bolgia

Sylvain Parent

Barbara Bombi

Mike Carr

Irene Bueno

Index of names

269

Index of subjects

277

Abbreviations Acta Aragonensia

H. Finke, Acta Aragonensia: Quellen zur deustchen, italianischen, französichen, spanischen zur Kirchen- und Kulturgeschichte aus der diplomatischen Korrespondenz Jaymes II. (1291–1327) (Berlin/ Leipzig, 1908)

Acta Benedicti XII

Acta Benedicti XII (1334–1342), ed. A. Tăutu (Rome, 1968)

AHP

Archivum Historiae Pontificiae

ASV

Archivio Segreto Vaticano

BXII: Communes

Benoît XII, 1334–1342: lettres communes analysées d’après les registres dits d’Avignon et du Vatican, ed. J.-M. Vidal, 3 vols (Paris, 1902–11)

BXII: France

Benoît XII (1334–1342): lettres closes, patentes et curiales se rapportant à la France, publiées ou analysées d’après les registres du Vatican, ed. G. Daumet, 3 vols (Paris, 2003)

BXII: Pays autres

Benoît XII (1334–1342): lettres closes et patentes intéressant les pays autres que la France, ed. J.-M. Vidal and G. Mollat, 2 vols (Paris,1913–50)

Baluze, Vitae

Étienne Baluze, Vitae Paparum Avenionensium, hoc est, Historia Pontificum Romanorum qui in Gallia sederunt ab anno Christi 1305 usque ad annum 1394, ed. G. Mollat, 4 vols (Paris, 1914–27), available online at: http://baluze.univ-avignon.fr/read_index.html (last accessed on 4 February 2017)

BAV

Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana

BF

Bullarium franciscanum: sive romanorum pontificum constitutiones, epistolae, diplomata tribus ordinibus Minorum, Clarissarum, Poenitentium […] a sancto Francisco institutis ab eorum originibus ad nostra usque tempora concessa, ed. C. Eubel (Rome, 1902)

BL

British Library

BnF

Bibliothèque nationale de France

Bueno, Defining Heresy

I. Bueno, Defining Heresy: inquisition, theology, and papal policy in the time of Jacques Fournier, Studies in Medieval and Reformation Traditions, 192 (Leiden, 2015)

CF

Cahiers de Fanjeaux

COD3

Conciliorum oecumenicorum decreta, ed. J. Alberigo et al., 3rd edn (Bologna, 1973); the same text, with the same pagination, is available with an English translation: Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils, ed. N.P. Tanner, 2 vols (Georgetown DC, 1990)

8

Pope Benedic t XII (1334–1342)

DHGE

Dictionnaire d’histoire et de géographie ecclésiastiques, 32 vols (Paris, 1909–2016)

DthC

Dictionnaire de théologie catholique, 30 vols (Paris, 1902–50)

Duvernoy, JF

J. Duvernoy, Le registre d’inquisition de Jacques Fournier, évêque de Pamiers (1318–1325), 3 vols (Toulouse, 1965)

Ehrle, Historia bibliothecae

F. Ehrle, Historia bibliothecae romanorum pontificium, tum Bonifatianae tum Avenionensis (Rome, 1890)

Eubel

C. Eubel, Hierarchia catholica Medii Aevii sive summorum pontificum S.R.E. cardinalium ecclesiarum antistitum series, 3 vols (Münster, 1898–1914)

Guillemain, Cour pontificale

B. Guillemain, La cour pontificale d’Avignon (1309–1376): étude d’une société (Paris, 1962)

Guillemain, Papes d’Avignon

B. Guillemain, Les papes d’Avignon, 1309–1376 (Paris, 1998)

HLF

Histoire littéraire de la France, 43 vols (Paris, 1733–2008)

Images and Words

Images and Words in Exile: Avignon and Italy during the first half of the 14th century, ed. E. Brilli, L. Fenelli, and G. Wolf (Florence, 2015)

Jean XXII: lettres communes

Jean XXII (1316–1334): lettres communes analysées d’après les registres dits d’Avignon et du Vatican, ed. G. Mollat, Bibliothèque des Écoles françaises d’Athènes et de Rome, 3rd Ser., 16 vols (Paris, 1904–47)

JEH

Journal of Ecclesiastical History

Le Roy Ladurie, Montaillou

E. Le Roy Ladurie, Montaillou, village occitan: de 1294 à 1324 (Paris, 1975)

Lettres secrètes et curiales du pape Jean XXII

Lettres secrètes et curiales du pape Jean XXII, 1316–1334, relatives à la France, ed. A. Coulon, Bibliothèque des Écoles françaises d’Athènes et de Rome, 3rd Ser., 1, 4 vols (Paris, 1900–72)

Liber pontificalis

Le Liber pontificalis, ed. L. Duchesne, Bibliothèque des Écoles françaises d’Athènes et de Rome, 2nd Ser., 3, 2nd edn, 3 vols (Paris, 1955–7)

Maier, Ausgehendes

A. Maier, Ausgehendes Mittelalter: gesammelte Aufsätze zur Geistesgeschichte des 14. Jahrhunderts, 3 vols (Rome, 1964–77)

MEFRM

Mélanges de l’École française de Rome: Moyen Âge

MGH

Monumenta Germaniae Historica, inde ab anno Christi quintesimo usque ad annum millesimum et quingentesimum (Hanover/Berlin, 1824–)

MGH SS

Scriptores (in folio), 32 vols in 34 (Hanover/Leipzig, 1826–1934)

9

Abbreviations

Mollat, Papes d’Avignon

G. Mollat, Les papes d’Avignon (1305–1378) (Paris, 1950)

PL

Patrologiae cursus completus, series latina (Patrologia latina), 221 vols, ed. J.P. Migne (Paris, 1841–64)

RHE

Revue d’histoire ecclésiastique

Riezler, Vatikanische Akten

S. Riezler, Vatikanische Akten zur Deutschen Geschichte in der Zeit Kaser Ludwigs des Bayern (Aalen, 1891)

Rollo-Koster, Avignon

J. Rollo-Koster, Avignon and its Papacy, 1309–1417: popes, institutions, and society (Lanham MD, 2015)

SBO

Sancti Bernardi Opera, ed. J. Leclercq, H. Rochais, and C.H. Talbot, 8 vols (Rome, 1957–77)

Schäfer, Ausgaben

K.H. Schäfer, Die Ausgaben der apostolischen Kammer unter Benedikt XII., Klemens VI. und Innocenz VI. (Paderborn, 1914)

Theiner

A. Theiner, Codex diplomaticus dominii temporalis S. Sedis, 3 vols (Rome, 1861–2)

Theis, Gouvernement

V. Theis, Le gouvernement pontifical du Comtat Venaissin: vers 1270–vers 1350, Collection de l’École française de Rome, 464 (Rome, 2012)

Trottmann, La vision

C. Trottmann, La vision béatifique des disputes scolastiques à sa définition par Benoît XII (Rome, 1995)

Villani

Giovanni Villani, Nuova cronica, ed. G. Porta, 3 vols (Parma, 1991)



List of Illustrations

1. Vatican City, Vatican Necropolis, Sala I. Paolo da Siena (and Lello Gariofoli), half-length image of Pope Benedict XII from the inner façade of Old St Peter’s, 1341 [photo author] 2. Vatican City, Vatican Necropolis, Sala I. Current arrangement of the surviving fragments of the aedicule of Benedict XII by Paolo da Siena (and Lello Gariofoli) from the inner façade of Old St Peter’s, including the half-length image of the pope, crocketed gable, and inscription on pavonazzetto marble, 1341 [photo courtesy of the Fabbrica di San Pietro in Vaticano] 3. Vatican City, Vatican Necropolis, Sala I. Inscription on pavonazzetto marble from the aedicule of Benedict XII in Old St Peter’s, 1341 [photo author] 4. Vatican City, Vatican Grottoes, Cappella della Bocciata. Plaster cast of the half-length image of Boniface VIII by Arnolfo di Cambio from the inner façade of Old St Peter’s, c.1300 (original sculpture in the Papal Apartments) [photo author] 5. Vatican City, Vatican Grottoes, Cappella della Bocciata. Aedicule of Benedict XII reused to frame a marble statue of St Peter. Photo Anderson 20343, early twentieth century [photo: Alinari] 6. Vatican City, Vatican Necropolis, Sala I. Paolo da Siena (and Lello Gariofoli), aedicule of Benedict XII from the inner façade of Old St Peter’s, detail of gable, 1341 [photo author] 7. Vatican City, Vatican Necropolis, Sala I. Paolo da Siena (and Lello Gariofoli), half-length image of Pope Benedict XII from the inner façade of Old St Peter’s, blessing hand, 1341 [photo author] 8. Vatican City, Vatican Necropolis, Sala I. Paolo da Siena (and Lello Gariofoli), half-length image of Pope Benedict XII from the inner façade of Old St Peter’s, hand holding the keys, 1341 [photo author]

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Pope Benedic t XII (1334–1342)

9. Vatican City, St Peter’s Basilica. Arnolfo di Cambio (attr.), bronze statue of St Peter, c.1300 [photo Dr Ronald V. Wiedenhoeft, Saskia Cultural Documentation] 10. Saint-Nectaire (Auvergne), church of Saint-Nectaire. Bust-reliquary of St Baudime, mid-twelfth century [photo Caisse nationale des monuments historiques et des sites, Paris] 11. The lost sepulchral chapel of Pope Boniface VIII by Arnolfo di Cambio and Jacopo Torriti, originally against the inner façade of Old St Peter’s. Early seventeenth-century drawing, BAV, MS Barb. lat. 2733 (Grimaldi, Instrumenta autentica), fol. 8r [from Descrizione della basilica antica di S. Pietro in Vaticano: Codice Barberini Latino 2733, ed. R. Niggl (Vatican City, 1972)] 12. Vatican City, Vatican Grottoes. Marble statue of St Peter, second century with fourteenth-, eighteenth-, and twenty-first century additions [photo author] 13. Tiberio Alfarano, De Basilicae Vaticanae. Plan of Old St Peter’s [from De Basilicae Vaticanae antiquissima et nova structura, ed. M. Cerrati (Rome, 1914)] 14. The lost canopy housing the marble statue of St Peter, formerly in the atrium of Old St Peter’s. Early seventeenth-century drawing, BAV, MS Barb. lat. 2733 (Grimaldi, Instrumenta autentica), fol. 145r [from Niggl, 1972] 15. Vatican City, Vatican Necropolis, Sala I. Paolo da Siena (and Lello Gariofoli), half-length image of Pope Benedict XII from the inner façade of Old St Peter’s, 1341 [photo author] 16. Rome, Reverenda Fabbrica di S. Pietro, Depositi. Plaster cast of the verso of the gable of Benedict XII’s aedicule (sixth-century pluteo from a liturgical screen in Old St Peter’s) [photo courtesy of the Fabbrica di San Pietro in Vaticano] 17. Vatican City, Vatican Necropolis, Sala I. Paolo da Siena (and Lello Gariofoli), half-length image of Pope Benedict XII from the inner façade of Old St Peter’s, side view, 1341 [photo author]



Introduction: Benedict XII, the Guardian of Orthodoxy Irene Bueno

Abstract Benedict XII (c.1334-1342) was a key figure of the Avignon papal court. He was renowned for rooting out heretics, and distinguished himself as a refined theologian. During his reign, he faced the most significant religious and political challenges in the era of the Avignon papacy: theological quarrels, divisions, and schisms within the Church, conflicts between European sovereigns, and the growth of Turkish power in the East. This book offers a unique overview of his career and pontificate, bringing together nine chapters that discuss the existing literature and address original perspectives based on new research. In spite of its diminished political influence, the papacy, which had recently moved to France, emerged as an institution committed to the defence and expansion of the Catholic faith in Europe and the East. Benedict made signif icant contributions to the definition of doctrine, the assessment of pontifical power in Western Europe, and the expansion of Catholicism in the East: in all these different contexts he distinguished himself as a true guardian of orthodoxy. Keywords: Benedict XII, Jacques Fournier, Avignon papacy, medieval Church history, orthodoxy and heterodoxy

On 13 December 1334, a few days after the death of John XXII (1316–1334), ­t wenty-four cardinals gathered in conclave in Avignon. By the end of the week, the majority – according to some, all – of the assembly elected as John’s successor the Cistercian cardinal Jacques Fournier (c.1285–1342). Born in Saverdun in the Ariège region, he ascended the

Bueno, Irene (ed.), Pope Benedict XII (1334–1342). The Guardian of Orthodoxy. Amsterdam University Press, 2018 doi: 10.5117/9789462986770_intro

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Pope Benedic t XII (1334–1342)

papal throne on 8 January 1335 with the name of Benedict XII, and died in Avignon.1 ­According to the Florentine chronicler Giovanni Villani, the election was arduous and Fournier’s name was proposed ‘almost as a dare, believing that it would not be done’ (quasi per gara, non credendo venisse fatto). The choice of one ‘regarded as the lowest of the Cardinals’ (il più minimo de’ cardinali) thus astonished many, probably on account of the new pontiff’s political inexperience. Villani further remarks: ‘And once he was elected pope, everyone was surprised, and he himself, who was present, said: “You have elected an ignoramus” (Avete eletto uno asino)’.2 Regardless of Villani’s report, Jacques Fournier’s pontifical election does not appear as something completely unexpected when considering his former career, as well as the influence of his maternal uncle Arnaud Novel – doctor of law, Cistercian abbot of Fontfroide, cardinal, and candidate to the papal throne after the death of Clement V. If Jacques seems to have had modest origins – he was said to have been the son of a baker or miller from the region of Toulouse – it was Arnaud Novel who made the most profound impact on his career. Following in his uncle’s footsteps, Jacques took the Cistercian habit at the monastery of Boulbonne and replaced Arnaud as abbot of Fontfroide upon his elevation to the cardinalate in 1310. Probably under his influence, in the following years Fournier undertook theological studies at the Cistercian Collège Saint-Bernard in Paris, obtaining the degree of magister in 1313–1314. This training played a fundamental role in assuring his subsequent reputation as one of the leading theologians of the papal Curia. The ground was thus prepared for his rapid assumption of important duties, first as bishop of Pamiers (1317) and then of Mirepoix (1326). During this phase, he undertook rigorous campaigns against heretics, obtaining public recognition from John XXII for the reputation he had gained through his activities. Transcripts of Fournier’s inquisitorial inquiries are recorded in MS lat. 4030 of the Vatican Library – a real treasure trove of information on the religion, mentality, economy, and society of the late medieval Pyrenees, which has never ceased to fascinate modern scholars. The time was now right for Fournier to take further and even more ambitious steps in his career. In 1327, he was created cardinal priest of Santa Prisca, once again following in the steps of his late uncle (who had held 1 For Benedict XII’s biography, see J. Paul, ‘Jacques Fournier (Benoît XII)’, in HLF, xxxvii, 174–209; L. Jadin, ‘Benoît XII’, in DHGE, viii, 116–35; X. Le Bachelet, ‘Benoît XII’, in DThC, xi, 653–704; Mollat, Papes, 48–63; Guillemain, Papes d’Avignon. 2 ‘E lui eletto papa, ciascuno s’ammirò, e elli medesimo ch’era presente disse: “Avete eletto uno asino”’, Villani, iii, 1246–7 (xii.21).

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the same title until his death in 1317) and the ‘white cardinal’ – as Fournier was called because of the Cistercian habit that he continued to wear after his election – rapidly became one of the key figures of the papal court. Not only was he renowned in Avignon for rooting out heretics in the region of Ariège, but also he had already distinguished himself as a refined theologian, advising John XXII on sensitive doctrinal matters from the first years of his episcopate.3 Fournier had offered his expertise on the heretical nature of magical practices as early as 1319. 4 In the ensuing years, he returned to drafting new opinions at the request of John XXII. The pope asked him to examine the works of key figures in the theological debate of the 1320s and early 1330s – including Peter John Olivi5 and Meister Eckhart6 – and tenacious adversaries of the pope on the poverty of Christ and the Apostles, such as William of Ockham and Michael of Cesena.7 Furthermore, Fournier was asked for his advice on the dogmatic definition of the Beatific Vision, one of the burning topics of the last years of John XXII’s pontificate, in pursuit of which he confronted the opinions of Durand de Saint-Pourçan.8 Besides contributing to an assessment of these ideas, Fournier also distinguished himself through his important homiletic and exegetical production. It is worth mentioning his lengthy sermons de tempore and the Postilla super Matheum, a monumental commentary on the Gospel of Matthew in six volumes.9 The ‘white cardinal’ had thus become John XXII’s official theologian 3 See J. Koch, ‘Der Kardinal Jacques Fournier (Benedikt XII) als Gutachter in theologischen Prozessen’ (1960), in idem, Kleine Schriften, 2 vols (Rome, 1973), ii, 368–86. See also Bueno, Defining Heresy, 151–64; and S. Piron, ‘Avignon sous Jean XXII, l’Eldorado des théologiens’, in Jean XXII et le Midi, CF, 45 (Toulouse, 2012), 357–91. 4 On this consultation, see Le pape et les sorciers: une consultation de Jean XXII sur la magie en 1320 (manuscrit B.A.V. Borghese 348), ed. A. Boureau (Rome, 2004). 5 Jacques Fournier took part in the last phase of the trial against the Lectura super Apocalypsim by Peter John Olivi († 1298). See S. Piron, ‘Censures et condamnation de Pierre de Jean Olivi: enquête dans les marges du Vatican’, MEFRM, 118 (2006), 313–73. 6 W. Senner, ‘Meister Eckhart’s Life, Training, Career, and Trial’, in A Companion to Meister Eckhart, ed. J.M. Hackett (Leiden, 2013), 7–84. 7 A. Pelzer, ‘Les 51 articles de Guillaume Occam censurés à Avignon en 1326’, RHE, 18 (1922), 240–70; Nicolaus Minorita, Chronica. Documentation on Pope John XXII, Michael of Cesena and the poverty of Christ with summaries in English: a source book, ed. G. Gál and D. Flood (Allageny NY, 1996). 8 I. Iribarren, ‘Consensus et dissidence à la cour papale d’Avignon: le cas de la controverse sur la vision béatifique’, Revue des Sciences Religieuses, 82 (2008), 107–26; Trottmann, La vision. 9 Fournier’s sermons are preserved in Vatican City, BAV, MS Vat. lat. 4006, fols 316ra–475ra (summary at fols 1ra–15rb). On the manuscript tradition of his Matthew Postilla, see A. Maier, ‘Der Kommentar Benedikts XII. zum Matthaeus-Evangelium’, AHP, 6 (1968), 398–405; and Bueno, Defining Heresy, 164–72. See also I. Bueno, ‘False Prophets and Ravening Wolves: biblical Exegesis as a tool against heretics in Jacques Fournier’s Postilla on Matthew’, Speculum, 89 (2014), 35–65.

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(magister sacri Palatii), distinguishing himself at the papal court as a major point of reference for the defence of doctrinal orthodoxy. The reputation he had acquired in Avignon as an eminent theologian played a fundamental role in assuring Fournier’s election to the papacy. Indeed, most fourteenth-century biographies of Benedict XII underscore the personal devotion and intellectual stature of the new pope. These characteristics are emphasized in several vitae of the Cistercian pope, which were compiled soon after his death and subsequently collected by Étienne Baluze (1630–1718), the erudite seventeenth-century librarian of Jean-Baptiste Colbert.10 In light of these accounts, Fournier thus appeared to the 1334 conclave as the candidate best prepared to address the most pressing matters of the Church and of Western Christianity at that time. What issues mattered in particular? Surveys of the history of the Avignon papacy have highlighted the important events that marked this rather short pontificate.11 After guiding the Church for more than eighteen years, John XXII left the newly elected Benedict XII a complex and difficult legacy. The religious and political divisions experienced during John’s reign had attracted heated debates and acts of open rebellion against the Apostolic See, forcing Benedict to pursue the difficult task of reconciliation and to look for uneasy compromises between continuity and rupture with his predecessor’s course of action. His first concern was the resolution of the Beatific Vision controversy, which remained unresolved at the time of John XXII’s death and demanded dogmatic clarif ication. To this aim Benedict promoted a consultation, which resulted in the bull Benedictus Deus (1336), the document defining the official doctrine of the Church on this highly contentious matter. From the first years of his pontificate, Benedict also engaged in a reform of the Curia and of the secular clergy which aimed at suppressing abuses and nepotism in the granting of benefices and containing the greed for gain among the clergy. His major reforming effort was, however, directed at the religious orders. In 1335–1336 the Cistercian pope undertook a reform that is still regarded as one of the landmarks of his pontificate. Not only 10 Baluze, Vitae; see also G. Mollat, Étude critique sur les Vitae Paparum Avenionensium d’Étienne Baluze (Paris, 1917). See also J. Chiffoleau, ‘Baluze, les papes et la France’, in Étienne Baluze, 1630–1718: érudition et pouvoir dans l’Europe classique, ed. J. Boutier (Limoges, 2008), 163–246; G. Lobrichon and P. Payan, ‘Quelle écriture de l’histoire des papes d’Avignon?’, in Liber, gesta, histoire: écrire l’histoire des évêques et des papes, de l’Antiquité au XIIe siècle, ed. F. Bougard and M. Sot (Turnhout, 2009), 179–98. 11 Mollat, Papes d’Avignon, 48–63; Guillemain, Cour pontificale, 134–6; and, more recently, Rollo-Koster, Avignon, 56–61.

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did he regulate the admission of novices, the details of discipline, and the organization of convents, but he also issued various deliberations on higher education, in an attempt to assert control over the organization of studies within the religious orders. As Jacques Paul summed it up, ‘faith and reform: these are, in the government of the Church, his major concerns’.12 Benedict’s international diplomacy reflects the multiple strains affecting European politics in the period during which the papacy was in Avignon. His project of transferring the Holy See back to Italy failed as a result of insufficient security and the general political instability of the peninsula. This did not, however, prevent Benedict from developing an alternative strategy. By conferring on Avignon the status of official papal residence and undertaking the construction of the new pontifical palace, he thereby contributed to a fundamental transformation of the new papal city and was the first to give a long-term character to the papacy’s settlement in Provence. Yet, while he instigated these major changes, Benedict was also aware of the importance of maintaining and consolidating papal authority in Italy and, most importantly, in Rome – as testified, for example, by his artistic patronage in the city of Peter.13 Benedict’s registers of correspondence testify to a challenging conjuncture in the relations among European powers. First, he had to face the split with the Empire, which began in the 1320s with the enmity between John XXII and Louis of Bavaria and resulted in the election of an antipope. This conflict was intertwined with the activities of Italian ‘rebels’ of various kinds, including political adversaries and ‘dissident’ Franciscans, who opposed John’s decrees on poverty. At the same time, a range of conflicts was undermining the peace among the Christian sovereigns in various regions, and Benedict attempted to contain the rivalry not only between Castile and Portugal but also among Scotland, England, France, and the Empire. Besides destabilizing the West at the preliminary stages of the Hundred Years’ War, these conflicts exerted an impact on the papacy’s Eastern policy by limiting interventions in the Eastern Mediterranean. Modern scholars have often evaluated Benedict’s initiatives in the wider international arena as ultimately ineffective. Indeed, his diplomatic exchanges with the German emperor hardly produced any signif icant results. Despite intensive exchanges with the French and English Crowns, 12 ‘La foi et la réforme, telles sont, dans le gouvernement ecclésiastique, ses deux préoccupations capitales’, Paul, ‘Jacques Fournier’, 182. 13 C. Bolgia, ‘Images in the City: presence, absence and legitimacy in Rome in the first half of the fourteenth century’, in Images and Words, 381–400.

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he failed to prevent the outbreak of the Hundred Years’ War. Likewise, Benedict did not succeed in organizing a new crusade; nor did his negotiations with Byzantium and Armenia contribute much to the cause of Church union. Overall, Benedict’s international diplomacy was hardly effective, demonstrating to a certain extent the very limits of pontifical authority in the first half of the fourteenth century. However, a closer look at his activities testifies at the very least to his determination to act as a mediator of peace and an arbiter of controversies in very diverse contexts, from Iberia to the Near East and from England to Italy. Whether successful or not, Benedict’s individual contribution should thus be reconsidered against the backdrop of the serious tensions that were affecting the Holy See, Europe, and the Mediterranean during his pontificate. As shown by this biographical survey, Benedict’s career and work open a window onto a fundamental period of transformation of both the Western Church and of European history. Not only does his individual trajectory call for further attention to be paid to a key personality in fourteenth-century Church history, but it also sheds light on major cultural and political developments and changing balances between centre and periphery which marked the period of the Avignon papacy. Indeed, Benedict’s course of action testifies at one and the same time to the symbolic and material transformation of the city of Avignon into a new Rome, and to its growing role as a chief cultural hub of the European Trecento. Moreover, it underlines the tensions that were being manifested all over Europe and in the East at the dawn of the Hundred Years’ War, and the Curia’s reactions to the opening of new Oriental horizons. Nonetheless, the achievements of Benedict’s career and short pontificate still need to be re-evaluated in the light of a fresh and attentive reading of the available sources. Despite the major events that marked his life and work, a comprehensive monograph on Jacques Fournier has yet to be produced. Several scholars have examined specific aspects of his career and pontificate, including areas such as his relations with the Franciscan order, his role in the Beatific Vision controversy, his reform of the religious orders, his international diplomacy, and his judicial, theological, and political commitment against heretics.14 While key transformations connected to Benedict’s reign 14 C. Schmitt, Un Pape réformateur et un défenseur de l’unité de l’Église: Benoît XII et l’ordre des Frères Mineurs (1334–1342) (Quaracchi, 1959); Trottmann, La vision; J.-M. Vidal, Le tribunal d’inquisition à Pamiers (Toulouse, 1906); J. Ballweg, Konziliare oder päpstliche Ordensreform: Benedikt 12. und die Reformdiskussion im frühen 14. Jahrhundert (Tübingen, 2001); H. Jenkins, Papal Efforts for Peace under Benedict XII (1334–1342) (Philadelphia, 1933); Bueno, Defining Heresy.

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have been addressed elsewhere, there exists no comprehensive overview of the third pope of Avignon.15 One reason for this situation is that the figure of Benedict XII has often been overshadowed by the stronger personalities of his predecessor, John XXII (1316–1334), and his successor, Clement VI (1342–1352).16 As a result, Benedict has either appeared as a moderate continuator of John’s energetic pontificate or as a scrupulous reformer, but a rather inactive sovereign, who could not equal Clement’s enhancement of the cultural life and magnificence of the Curia. Another reason can be found in the role played by Fournier’s inquisitorial registers, which have attracted great scholarly attention, thus obscuring his wider activities and legacy. Transcripts of Fournier’s inquiries in the diocese of Pamiers have been the subject of numerous studies, while modern historians have paid less attention to the wider impact of his cardinalate and pontificate.17 Thus, while individual studies have examined important aspects of Benedict’s career, a complete full-length overview of the life and work of this pope has yet to emerge. This volume aims not only to meet the challenge of offering a comprehensive overview of Benedict’s life and reign but also to address specific facets of his pontificate which have not yet received the attention they deserve. Nine experts in their individual fields of research reconsider Fournier’s inquisitorial involvement, analyse his theological contribution, and examine the major political, religious, administrative, and artistic contributions of his reign. Each one focuses on different geographic contexts, ranging from the region of Avignon, the city of Rome, and Western Europe, to the 15 Apart from the outdated K. Jakob, Studien über Papst Benedikt: 20. Dezember 1334 bis 25. April 1342 (Berlin, 1910). 16 Published volumes on John XXII include: Jean XXII et le Midi, CF, 45 (2012); S. Zanke, Johannes XXII., Avignon und Europa: das politische Papsttum im Spiegel der kurialen Register (1316–1334) (Leiden, 2013); Papst Johannes XXII: Konzepte und Verfahren seines Pontifikats, ed. H.-J. Schmidt and M. Rohde (Berlin, 2014). On Clement VI, see D. Wood, Clement VI: the pontificate and ideas of an Avignon pope (Cambridge, 1989); R. Lützelschwab, Flectat cardinales ad velle suum? Clemens VI. (1342–1352) und sein Kardinalskolleg: ein Beitrag zur kurialen Politik in der Mitte des 14. Jahrhunderts (München, 2007); A. Pélissier, Clément VI le magnifique, premier pape limousin (1342–1352) (Nîmes, 2008); É. Anheim, Clément VI au travail: lire, écrire, prêcher au XIVe siècle (Paris, 2014). 17 The transcripts of Pamiers (Vat. lat. 4030) were edited in Duvernoy, JF. Studies of these records include Le Roy Ladurie, Montaillou; G. De Llobet, ‘Variété des croyances populaires au Comté de Foix au début du XIVe siècle d’après les enquêtes de J. Fournier’, in La réligion populaire en Languedoc du XIIIe siècle à la moitié du XIVe siècle, CF, 11 (Toulouse, 1976), 109–26; M. Benad, Domus und Religion in Montaillou: katholische Kirche und Katharismus im Uberlebenskampf der Familie des Pfarres Petrus Clerici am Anfang des 14. Jahrhunderts (Tübingen, 1990); J.-P. Albert, ‘Croire et ne pas croire: les chemins de l’hétérodoxie dans le Registre d’Inquisition de Jacques Fournier’, Heresis, 39 (2003), 91–106.

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Eastern Mediterranean and the Mongol Khanates. Far from examining solely Fournier’s individual trajectory, the volume seeks to clarify the complexity of relations that existed between the Holy See and its various interlocutors, and to reconstruct the wider religious, cultural, and political context of Benedict’s time. In so doing, the book aims to explore the peculiarities of the papacy at Avignon and to address questions related to what it meant to defend and expand Roman orthodoxy from the new location that the papacy came to occupy in the first half of the fourteenth century. The papacy’s seventy-year residency in Avignon has been the focus of increasing scholarly attention. The opening of the Vatican Archives in 1881, followed by significant editorial endeavours – in particular those of the École française de Rome – have been major landmarks in the effort to produce diplomatic, political, financial, and cultural reconstructions of the fourteenth-century Curia based on fresh archival evidence.18 Yet, it can also be noted that modern historiography on the Avignon papacy has suffered from an enduring divide between French and Italian perspectives. Whereas French scholars have generally been prone to favourable views of the Avignonese phase, Italians have often perceived it as a period of transition, awaiting the return of the popes to their natural seat – Rome. In a kind of continuation of Petrarch’s anti-Avignonese polemics, the latter tendency has been marked by enduring representations of the papal period on the Rhône River as a new ‘Babylonian captivity’ which was detrimental to the history of the Church.19 Conversely, positive accounts have characterized the fundamental overviews of the Avignon period, such as those offered by Guillaume Mollat, Yves Renouard, Bernard Guillemain, and Joëlle Rollo-Koster.20 While this dualistic scenario has now been abandoned, significant new works on the Avignon papacy have only recently appeared. Recent studies, based on the scrutiny of documents from the Vatican Archives, have increasingly shed light on the political, institutional, and cultural dimensions of the papacy in Provence. Following these accounts, the fourteenth century 18 As pointed out by Rollo-Koster, Avignon, 1–22, particularly at 4. Guillaume Mollat offered further support for Avignon studies through his erudite works and editions; see, among others, his contribution in Baluze, Vitae. 19 See D. Waley, ‘Opinions of the Avignon Papacy: a historiographical sketch’, in Storiografia e storia: studi in onore di Eugenio Duprè Theseider (Rome, 1974), 175–88; E. Duprè Theseider, I papi di Avignone e la questione romana (Florence, 1939), vii–xl; see the more recent discussion on related topics in Images and Words, xv–xix. 20 Mollat, Papes d’Avignon; Y. Renouard, La papauté à Avignon (Paris, 1954; repr. 2004); Guillemain, Cour pontificale; Rollo-Koster, Avignon.

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can now be seen as a fundamental period not only for the institutional and administrative evolution of the papal government but also for the affirmation of the papal court as a key cultural space of late-medieval Europe, one which contributed in a decisive manner to the promotion of learning, theological meditation, and artistic production.21 Stimulated by these contributions, the chapters collected in this volume take into account multiple aspects of Fournier’s career and pontificate. Elizabeth Sherman reconsiders Fournier’s inquisitorial activity as bishop of Pamiers in the light of a close comparison with earlier inquisitorial material. Sylvain Piron and Christian Trottmann concentrate especially on Fournier’s theological accounts, relying on vast quantities of unpublished material. Piron identifies new theological advice given by Jacques Fournier against Peter John Olivi’s Lectura super Apocalypsim, compiled at the request of John XXII.22 Trottmann offers instead an overview of the Beatific Vision controversy, highlighting Fournier’s definitive contribution to the debate, both as cardinal and as pope. The remaining chapters deal with different aspects of Benedict’s pontificate, drawing from the registers of the Apostolic Chancery and other materials ranging from the Chancery records of the English Crown to local chronicles, lists of errors, and artistic artefacts. Valérie Theis examines Benedict’s strategies, which led to the lasting implantation of the Curia into the region of Avignon. Benedict’s attempt at consolidating papal authority in Rome lies at the core of Claudia Bolgia’s study of a revealing, half-length portrait of the pope. Sylvain Parent analyses Benedict’s Italian policy, while Barbara Bombi reconsiders the pope’s role as an international mediator on the occasion of the outbreak of the Hundred Years’ War. Finally, Mike Carr and Irene Bueno concentrate on Benedict’s Eastern policy. Whereas Carr reconsiders Benedict’s crusading strategy, 21 J. Chiffoleau, La comptabilité de l’au-delà: les hommes, la mort et la religion dans la région d’Avignon à la fin du Moyen Âge, vers 1320–vers 1480 (Rome, 1980; repr. Paris, 2011); M.-H. Jullien de Pommerol and J. Monfrin, La bibliothèque pontificale à Avignon et à Peñiscola pendant le grand schisme d’Occident et sa dispersion, 2 vols (Rome, 1991); La vie culturelle, intellectuelle et scientifique à la cour des papes d’Avignon, ed. J. Hamesse (Turnhout, 2006); F. Manzari, La miniatura ad Avignone al tempo dei papi, 1310–1410 (Modena, 2006); Offices, écrit et papauté, XIIIe–XVIIe siècle, ed. A. Jamme and O. Poncet (Rome, 2007); V. Theis, Le gouvernement pontifical du Comtat Venaissin: vers 1270–vers 1350 (Rome, 2012); Anheim, Clément VI au travail; S. Parent, Dans les abysses de l’infidélité: les poursuites judiciaires contre les ennemis de l’Église, entre rébellion et hérésie (Italie, v. 1310–1330) (Rome, 2014). In English, see among others P. Zutshi, ‘The Avignon Papacy’, in The New Cambridge Medieval History, vi, c.1300–c.1415, ed. M. Jones (Cambridge, 2000), 653–73; and Rollo-Koster, Avignon. 22 The importance of this discovery calls for a translation of Piron’s article into English, originally published as ‘Un avis retrouvé de Jacques Fournier’, Médiévales, 54 (2008) 113–34.

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Bueno focuses on his confrontation with the Eastern Churches, as well as on the missionary input of the Avignonese Church throughout Asia. By focusing on the entire career of Jacques Fournier, the volume not only takes into account different sets of sources, both published and unpublished, but also offers new interpretations, thereby widening our understanding of the historical conjuncture during which the Cistercian pope was active. Several authors evaluate Benedict’s response to and interpretation of inquisitorial models, theological trends, and major political developments. As Sherman demonstrates, even Fournier’s well-studied trial proceedings still deserve attention. She argues that the extremely innovative character of these documents is attributable not only to Fournier’s inquisitorial personality or to alleged changes of the heretical paradigm adopted by inquisitors, but rather to a transformation of the very nature of the ‘heresy of Good Men’ in the fourteenth century. Once the actual boni homines became fewer than before, inquisitors such as Fournier needed to adapt their line of questioning, which resulted in lengthy depositions touching upon the simple believers’ moral and doctrinal deviances. As the author puts it, the new character of interrogations was therefore ‘a practical solution to the changing nature of heterodoxy’. The contributions by Piron and Trottmann provide an in-depth discussion of aspects of Jacques Fournier’s theological thinking which have so far received scant attention, especially from Anglophone scholarship.23 It is well known that Fournier quickly became one of the closest and most trusted theological advisors of John XXII. Yet, the content of his theological assessments, most of which have been lost, often remains uncertain. Piron’s discovery of new advice given by Fournier during the last phase of the trial against Peter John Olivi for his commentary on the Apocalypse adds valuable information not only to the Cistercian’s individual evaluation of this work (particularly with respect to Joachimite eschatology), but also to the very history of the trial. Indeed, it appears that this assessment – the lengthiest of those preserved on the same matter – played a fundamental role in the pronouncement of the 1326 sentence against Olivi. Similarly, Fournier’s intervention was definitive for the solution that Trottmann calls ‘the crisis of the Beatific Vision’ – a complex theological controversy which involved not only the court of Avignon but also major intellectual and political centres such as Paris, Oxford, Naples, and Munich. Fournier’s engagement 23 Among the few exceptions, see I. Iribarren, ‘Ockham and the Avignon Papacy: the controversy with John XXII, Benedict XII and Clement VI’, in A Companion to Responses to Ockham, ed. C. Rode (Leiden, 2016), 334–64; Bueno, ‘False Prophets and Ravening Wolves’.

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in the debates was twofold, first as advisor to John XXII and then as pontiff. However, his contribution as a private theologian did not correspond exactly to his later deliberations as a pope. As Trottmann highlights, the newly elected pope diplomatically left aside his most original positions on the subject matter in order to resolve the crisis in a definitive manner. In fact, appeasement and reconciliation have often been highlighted as landmarks of Benedict’s pontificate after the turbulent scenario of John XXII’s reign. The actual connections between the two pontiffs, however, deserve further attention. If Fournier’s assessments illustrate the distinctive role he played as a theologian at the court of John XXII, the relationship between the two pontificates still needs clarification. Several contributions in this volume evaluate Benedict’s reign by discussing patterns of continuity or rupture with his predecessor’s course of action. According to Sylvain Parent, as far as Italian policy is concerned, the continuity between the two reigns was more pronounced than has generally been appreciated. This is what emerges from a study of papal interventions aimed at resolving political instability, restoring orthodoxy, and enforcing papal sovereignty in the peninsula. Parent remarks, for example, that a process for the rehabilitation of the Italian ‘rebels’ or ‘heretics’ had already been inaugurated by John XXII and was subsequently continued by Benedict XII. Further evidence of prevailing patterns of continuity between the two pontificates surfaces in the similarity of vocabulary used in the documents of the two popes regarding ‘tyrannical excesses in Italy’. Just as in John’s reign, Benedict’s attempts at reconciliation with Italian dissidents were ultimately aimed – although with little success – at consolidating papal sovereignty in the territories of the peninsula. Benedict’s contribution to the consolidation of papal sovereignty is also evaluated by Valérie Theis, who focuses on the local context of the city of Avignon and the surrounding region. Against prevailing views of the Cistercian pope as a prudent sovereign, Theis sheds light on his perspicacity in creating the conditions for the enforcement of the papal institution in this area. It was Benedict, as she underscores, who officially transformed Avignon into the new pontifical seat, assuring the opportunity for the stabilization of the papacy in the city and in the Comtat Venaissin. This fundamental transformation resulted in both the creation of a pontifical palace in Avignon and effective local provisions aimed at controlling space and populace in the region. Distinctive features of Benedict’s policy and marked divergences from his predecessors thus emerge when looking at his local administration and its overall impact on the stabilization of the papacy in Provence. From then on, the papal presence in Avignon was no longer perceived as an accidental, transitory situation, and the way opened

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for the magnificent works of renovation of the pontifical palace, which Clement VI brought forward with renewed ambition. While Avignon was being transformed into a second Rome, the evolution of the Eternal City during the lengthy absence of the popes also deserves further attention. In her analysis of papal visual policies in the first half of the fourteenth century, Claudia Bolgia demonstrates how artistic patronage and iconographic choices fit perfectly with the ambition of enforcing papal authority in Rome. In particular, her study of Benedict’s sculpture portrait – a replica of Arnolfo di Cambio’s monument of Boniface VIII – and of the original location of these two busts offers new insights into the symbols that conveyed the reassertion of papal leadership despite the absence of the popes themselves from the city. By focusing on the different contexts of the new and the old Rome, Theis and Bolgia thus shed light on complementary facets of the symbols connected to the reassertion of the power of the pontiff during the Avignon papacy. If Benedict’s governmental measures in the territory of Avignon proved reasonably efficient, his intervention in Italy and in the international arena was less fortunate. Close attention to different scenarios – ranging from the Anglo-French conflict to the defence and expansion of the Catholic faith in the Near and Far East – demonstrates a patent discrepancy between the pope’s intentions in international diplomacy and their overall outcome. Focusing on Anglo-papal correspondence, Barbara Bombi discusses Benedict’s arbitration in the period that preceded the outbreak of the Hundred Years’ War. If the pope was unable to prevent the outbreak of hostilities, this failure was not necessarily caused by a lack of papal political standing. Bombi argues that preventing the war in those particular circumstances was in fact beyond the power and authority of the papacy. Because contentions and alliances had already acquired an international character by the late 1330s, and involved the agendas of various sovereigns, peace-making had become an impossible task for the head of the Church – regardless of how resolute he was. Different conclusions are drawn by Mike Carr when focusing on Benedict’s crusading policy. Unlike his predecessor, John XXII, and his successor, Clement VI, the Cistercian pope did not commit himself vigorously to the defence of the Christian lands from Turkish advances in the Eastern Mediterranean. As Carr puts it, this lack of action was related more to Benedict’s personality and individual choices than to contingent factors such as European conflicts and financial constraints. Indeed, Benedict prioritized internal Church reform and the defence of orthodoxy over the war against the infidels, which ultimately prevented the launching of a crusade to the Holy Land and the Aegean. As a result of dogmatic differences

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between Latins and Greeks, all diplomatic negotiations with Byzantium were indeed hindered by what Carr identifies as Benedict’s ‘inflexibility’ and ‘characteristic intractability’. Conversely, religious convergence permitted papal support for the holy war elsewhere, as in the case of the anti-Islamic and anti-Mongol campaigns of Catholic rulers in Iberia and Eastern Europe. Far from being circumstantial, the growing distance between the interests of the papacy and those of the Christian East allowed, more generally, a new crusading strategy to emerge, characterized by limited Western involvement and wider local initiatives against the Turks. Whether related to a general political immobility of the Avignon papacy towards incipient conflicts in Europe or to Benedict’s personal attitudes, the suspending of crusading activity did not prevent the pope from promoting engagement with the Eastern regions on different grounds. Church union negotiation, doctrinal scrutiny, and evangelization were the major areas where the papacy could still attempt to exercise authority and control over the territories overseas. Irene Bueno’s comparative analysis of Benedict’s religious and diplomatic relations with the Greeks, the Armenians, and the Mongols sheds light on the changing responses of the Holy See with respect to different interlocutors, demonstrating the various ways in which they affected the political sphere too. As the papal registers illustrate, the partes Orientis were not perceived in a unitary manner at the papal court, but different provisions were adopted towards ‘schismatic’, formally Catholic, and nonChristian populations. Overall, these initiatives nurtured the papacy’s aim to re-launch a universal mission, which was intended to spread from Provence to the furthest boundaries of the known world – regardless of whether such a goal was more rhetorical than realistic. For the same reason that he created a pontifical palace in Avignon, it ultimately served the programme of enforcing the image and authority of the papacy in the West and beyond. In light of the contributions offered here, a reconsideration of Jacques Fournier’s figure and personality is attempted. Most biographers have seen him either as the severe inquisitor of Montaillou, as an example of morality and an active reformer, or as a pale sovereign and a timid continuator of John XXII’s course of action – yet as one who did not, however, possess the same determination. Several contributions in this volume reassess the equilibrium between Fournier’s individual contribution and the general circumstances in which he was active as bishop-inquisitor, theologian, and as pope. What emerges is a more nuanced picture in which each documentary context illustrates the changing balance between continuity and change, tradition and innovation, individual input and external circumstances. More than that, the history of a pontificate always offers a privileged key

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to access the cultural, political, diplomatic, and religious tensions that characterized the intimate soul of a historical period. In a fundamental time of transformation for the papacy, now settled far from Rome, and of its international balances in an era of conflicts all over Europe and in the East, Benedict interpreted his role in an original and precise manner. He abandoned his predecessor’s confrontational attitude but was capable of pursuing, in a variety of local and international contexts, his major objectives – namely, reform of the Church, the consolidation of papal authority in the new seat of Avignon and elsewhere, and the defence and expansion of orthodoxy. This work does not claim to be complete, but it will hopefully serve as a stimulus for further research on the life and pontificate of Benedict XII, based on published and unpublished sources such as those that have been examined here. In particular, Benedict’s reform of the religious orders may deserve closer attention, as well as his policy on the attribution of benefices. As far as his theological writings are concerned, we hope to encourage further studies on works that still remain unedited and largely unexplored, such as the Postilla super Matheum and the Sermones. The same applies to other important aspects of his pontificate, including the relations between Avignon and the Northern and Eastern regions of Europe. The session ‘Inquisition, crusade, and theological disputes during the career of Benedict XII’, organized by the editor of this book at the 2012 International Medieval Conference in Leeds, was an important forum for a preliminary discussion – among experts in various fields – of some of the chapters collected in this volume. The editor wishes to thank all the contributors for their cooperation and patience during the preparation of this book, and Vicki-Marie Petrick for her translation of three of the chapters. Comments by Joëlle Rollo-Koster have been particularly helpful. Recognition is gratefully offered to the Marie Curie Action and the Italian Ministry of University and Research, under the project SIR ‘POPLAMA’, for their financial support. Special thanks go to Brenda Bolton for encouraging the publication of this volume within the series ‘Church, Faith, and Culture in the Medieval West’ and for her careful revision of the manuscript. Irene Bueno, University of Bologna

1.

Jacques Fournier and ThirteenthCentury Inquisitorial Methods Elizabeth Sherman

Abstract While serving as the bishop of Pamiers, Jacques Fournier oversaw an inquisition to uncover heresy in the bishopric. Breaking with thirteenthcentury methods that produced brief accounts of material support of Cathar heretici, Fournier’s inquiry contains lengthy depositions full of the minutiae of daily life. Scholars argue that Fournier was motivated by a keen interest or a desire to extend the power of the Church. Alternatively, this chapter proposes that his new approach reflected the changing nature of heresy in Languedoc. The depositions give ample evidence of heterodoxy but little proof of the types of interactions with heretici that were once common. The elimination of the heretici rendered the old formula useless, prompting a new method for inquiry. Keywords: Jacques Fournier, thirteenth century, France, heresy, inquisition

Before Jacques Fournier was elected cardinal in 1327 or pope as Benedict XII in 1334, he distinguished himself in his role as bishop of Pamiers. As such, he established an inquisitorial office to uncover heresy in his bishopric in 1317. The diocese he oversaw was created by Pope Boniface VIII in 1295, largely in response to heterodoxy in the region; and, before Fournier became inquisitor, two investigations into heresy were conducted there. Indeed, in 1308, the inquisitor of Carcassonne, Geoffroy d’Ablis, arrested all the villagers of Montaillou save for the children, demonstrating the perceived level of infection in the region. The job of rooting out heretics in Pamiers had been the responsibility of the court at Carcassonne administered by the Dominicans, but when the Cistercian Fournier became bishop he took on the role of inquisitor by virtue of the twenty-sixth decree issued at the

Bueno, Irene (ed.), Pope Benedict XII (1334–1342). The Guardian of Orthodoxy. Amsterdam University Press, 2018 doi: 10.5117/9789462986770_ch01

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Council of Vienne, which in 1312 had decided that inquisitors were to work in concert with local bishops.1 Seeking to rid his diocese of error, Fournier worked at the new court at Pamiers alongside Dominicans Gaillard de Pomiès and Jean de Beaune from the court at Carcassonne.2 The difference between this inquisitorial court and those that came before it was not only the novelty of the bishop’s involvement, however. Fournier’s method of inquiry depended on eliciting responses from the accused through questioning, the expected format of inquisitorial examination; but the focus of his questions and the manner in which he engaged suspects produced lengthy depositions wherein the accused often related the minutiae of daily life as a part of their confession. Simply put, this was an innovation. Variation in the type of inquiry between thirteenth-century registers and Fournier’s register resulted in rather different styles of confession. The registers of Quercy (1241–1242), Toulouse (1245–1246), Lauragais (1256), a second inquisition in Toulouse (1273–1280), and Albi (1299–1300) contain confessions that are much shorter and less detailed than those found in Fournier’s register.3 These thirteenth-century confessions, while brief and stripped of much detail, strictly followed a formula that elicited proof of significant interaction with and support of heretici. In comparison, the Pamiers register reveals that the people under examination in Fournier’s register often had very few (if any) ties with actual heretici. Arguably, the difference in Fournier’s technique relates not so much to his particular interest or a desire to expand the category of heretic to include new types of sinners and expand the reach and power of the inquisition and the Church; instead, it reflects the changing nature of heresy itself in Languedoc in the fourteenth century. Indeed, it is possible that a new approach to questioning 1 ‘We decree therefore, for the glory of God and the increase of the faith, that this work will be done by both diocesan bishops and by inquisitors appointed by the apostolic see. All worldly affection hatred and fear shall be put aside, as also any seeking of temporal advantage. We decree that the bishops and the inquisitors may act independently of one another. They may summon, arrest or hold for sake-keeping, even securing those arrested hand and foot if it seems necessary. For this we hold them responsible. They may also inquire about those concerning whom inquiry seems right before God and just’, Decree no. 26, COD3, i, 380–2. 2 E. Le Roy Ladurie, Montaillou: the promised land of error, trans. B. Bray (New York, 1979), xi–xiii; Duvernoy, JF, ii, 518; J. Given, Inquisition and Medieval Society: power, discipline, and resistance in Languedoc (Ithaca NY, 1997), 99. 3 The register of penances for Quercy is contained in BnF, MS Doat 21. The inquisitional register for Toulouse is preserved in Toulouse, Bibliothèque municipale, MS 609. The inquisition at Lauragais in 1256 is found in a fragment of a manuscript once owned by M. Louis Bonnet that consisted of two sheets, front and back, labelled ‘CCLXIII’ and ‘CCLXXI’. The later inquisition at Toulouse is preserved in BnF, MS Doat 25. The inquisitorial register for Albi is located in BnF, MS lat. 11847.

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was necessary in order to do the work of inquiry. Despite the persistence of heterodox belief among the laity, the old inquisitorial methods, which focused on questions of material support, would have produced very little in the way of evidence with very few heretici left to support. The methods employed by thirteenth-century inquisitors developed out of the experiences and failures of the earliest inquisitors, including Conrad of Marburg, Friar Ferrier, and Robert le Bougre. These inquisitors’ methods were haphazard and notoriously violent. Conrad of Marburg was slain in 1233 in reaction to his inept methods, which included offering suspects the choice of having their heads shaved as a sign of penance or denying their guilt, either of which ended in being burned for heresy. Conrad’s inquisitorial process was limited: no counterpleas or testimonies were accepted, no excuses or defences allowed. 4 Questionable procedures were the source of tension in Narbonne, where the Dominican prior of Narbonne, Friar Ferrier, was appointed in 1229 as an inquisitor. A letter containing complaints regarding his conduct provides a glimpse into his inquisitorial failings. Again, the process was dubious, as one complaint levelled at Ferrier was that ‘simple and illiterate prisoners were ensnared by confusing and misleading questions’.5 It was not much different in the north of France, where Robert le Bougre was given a papal commission to exterminate heresy in 1232. His techniques were every bit as problematical. They included his claim to be able to detect heresy by carefully examining a person’s patterns of speech and watching their gestures. Robert reportedly placed a piece of writing on the witnesses’ heads, which he believed compelled suspects to confess the truth.6 These inquisitors’ procedures, such as they were, spawned such outrage that inquisitors in southern France were forced from the 1240s onwards to take a radically different approach towards inquiry. Henceforth, this would rely on inquisitors investigating deviance through the questioning of suspects and witnesses on issues of personal associations, behaviour, and 4 Gesta Treverorum continuatio quarta, ed. G. Waitz, in MGH SS, xxiv (1879), 400–2; W.L. Wakef ield and A.P. Evans, eds, Heresies of the High Middle Ages (New York, 1969), 267–8; M. Lambert, The Cathars (Malden MA., 1998), 118–20. 5 There was no justification evident in the arrest, imprisonment, and confiscation of people’s property. These steps were all taken prior to condemnation or trial. It was claimed that prisoners were victims of confusing and misleading questions, and that the inquisition took advantage of the simple and illiterate populace. Only one of the letters describing their situation to the other consulates of Languedoc survives. It is reprinted in P.L. Ménard, Histoire civile, ecclésiastique et littéraire de la ville de Nismes, 7 vols (Paris, 1750), i, 73–5. See also R.W. Emery, Heresy and Inquisition in Narbonne (New York, 1941), 83. 6 Wakefield and Evans, Heresies, 139–40; A.P. Roach, ‘Penance and the Inquisition in Languedoc’, JEH, 52 (2001), 414; and Lambert, The Cathars, 122–5.

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belief.7 Historians never cease to bemoan certain aspects of the inquisitorial registers, the products of this practice. For example, the questions asked by the inquisitors necessarily shape and limit the available information about the heretics, resulting in something less than a full picture of society in Languedoc – a regrettable limitation. The reliance on questions prompting confession also led to a certain degree of variation from one register to another in the type of information one finds preserved. Since inquisitors were interested in different topics, their questions were not uniform – and, therefore, the evidence was shaped by those concerns. While this might frustrate attempts to understand the heretics or their supporters, it does provide insight into the inquisitors themselves or into inquisitorial culture. By examining their questions and procedures one gains a better understanding of what the inquisitors believed was important, what evidence they thought would best demonstrate guilt, how that changed over time, and, most importantly, the marked difference between thirteenth-century inquisitors and Fournier. It is perhaps surprising and potentially frustrating for historians that thirteenth-century inquisitors – such as Pierre Seila in Quercy, Bernard de Caux in Toulouse, Jean de Saint-Pierre in Lauragais, and Ranulphe de Plassac and Pons de Parnac in Toulouse – often cared seemingly very little about questions of belief. Instead, their approach, which was rather more disciplined than the earlier inquisitorial tactics discussed above, focused on questioning those who sat before them in such a way as to elicit proof of interaction with and support of heretics. Those under examination were routinely asked whether they had given or sent anything to the heretics. This approach produced ample evidence. Their confessions read like a laundry list of material support in the form of food, housing, donations of cloth and clothing, monetary donations, services rendered without pay, and other gifts.8 Seila’s approach centred on questions of material support of heresy, and gifts of food and drink appear in the Quercy records as the most common charitable donation offered by fautores to the heretics.9 The same was true for the first inquisition in Toulouse, which provides clear evidence of the material support of heretics by the laity. Although the percentage of 7 C. Caldwell Ames, Righteous Persecution: inquisition, Dominicans, and Christianity in the Middle Ages (Philadelphia, 2009), 2. 8 M.G. Pegg, The Corruption of Angels: the great inquisition of 1245–1246 (Princeton NJ, 2001), 45. 9 E. Sherman, ‘Medieval Charity and Heresy in Southern France’ (PhD diss., Saint Louis University, 2012), 37–8.

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charitable activities and donations never quite reached the levels represented in the Quercy records, the majority of supporters still provided services, food and drink, housing, money, and clothing, with donations of food being the most prevalent. In the fragment that survives from Lauragais, food and housing were equally represented, with additional examples of services provided to heretics without charge. By the time of the later inquisition in Toulouse, however, services rendered represented the most common form of support provided by fautores, although other common forms of support – lodging and monetary gifts – were still well represented. Indeed, the level of support among those reporting charitable activities was decidedly significant, as deponents often reported numerous kinds of support on various occasions, including shelter, food, money, and services.10 Taken as a whole, the gifts recounted in these inquisitorial registers were fairly substantial, given that the majority of those confessing were not particularly wealthy. This could indicate that people felt strongly about the heretics’ theological views, or might reveal that the lifestyle and accompanying rituals of the heretics appealed to the laity and led them to contribute to their support.11 As some scholars have argued, the beliefs of the heretics never formed a truly cohesive body, and many supporters probably had rather limited knowledge of what they actually believed.12 Indeed, within these records there is ample evidence that while the laity provided support 10 Ibid., 74–5, 88–90. 11 Claire Taylor believes that the lesser families in the inquisitorial records may not have been as wedded to heresy had it not been for the influence of elites who encouraged interaction with and support for heretics. She argues that the elite families may have been instructing or even paying lesser members of the community to provide services (such as acting as guides and messengers) or even food for the heretics. Therefore, she believes that these lesser families were connected both economically and spiritually to heresy. See C. Taylor, Heresy in Medieval France: dualism in Aquitaine and the Agenais, 1000–1249 (Rochester NY, 2003), 242. 12 The belief in a coherent Cathar heresy has been challenged most notably by Mark Pegg, who rejects the idea of an organized, institutionalized Church, instead arguing that Catharism was a created fiction and that the beliefs of supposed heretics were at most examples of highly localized belief and practice. Between this and the more traditional view lie scholars such as Carol Lansing, who argues that Cathar and Catholic beliefs existed along a spectrum where, to a great extent, both belief and practice varied. Moreover, Pegg and Julien Théry-Astruc reject the term ‘Cathar’, since neither inquisitors nor heretics in southern France used it. See C. Lansing, Power and Purity: Cathar heresy in medieval Italy (Oxford, 1997); Pegg, The Corruption of Angels; M.G. Pegg, ‘Heresy, Good Men and Nomenclature’, in Heresy and the Persecuting Society in the Middle Ages: essays on the work of R.I. Moore, ed. M. Frassetto (Leiden, 2006), 227–39; M.G. Pegg, A Most Holy War: the Albigensian crusade and the battle for Christendom (New York, 2008); and J. Théry-Astruc, ‘L’hérésie des bons hommes: comment nommer la dissidence religieuse non vaudoise ni béguine en Languedoc? (XIIe–XIVe s.)’, Heresis, 36–37 (2002), 75–117.

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for and called upon the heretics to provide services to the sick, they could not properly respond to the inquisitors’ questions on the errors of the heretics. Therefore, had these thirteenth-century inquisitors relied solely or principally on questions of belief, they might well have had some difficulty establishing guilt. Statements of heterodox belief were not chiefly necessary, however, as inquisitors used material support of heretici and Waldensians as tangible evidence to accuse the fautores of heresy. Had heretics been fewer in number, a situation that might have come to pass as the inquisition eliminated heretical leadership, such an approach would have been less successful. The register for the inquisition at Albi is the latest of these five thirteenthcentury registers, and it displays the most notable changes in terms of evidence of support, if not procedure. The tribunal at Albi consisted of two judges – Bernard de Castanet, bishop of Albi, and Nicholas d’Abbeville, inquisitor of Carcassonne – and on several occasions a third, the inquisitor of Toulouse, Bertrand de Clermont, was added to the mix.13 The inquisitors interrogated thirty-five suspects. Their questions focused on whose house the heretics had been seen in, whether or not the heretics had been adored, whether someone had received their blessing and/or shared a meal, and whether there had been contact between heretics and the sick. Notably absent from the register of Albi are gifts of clothing, gifts of food, and services beyond guiding the heretici, all of which are prominent in earlier registers. What one does find are confessions of shared meals, providing temporary shelter, service as guides, and gifts of money. Either the people of Albi were less charitable than elsewhere, perhaps indicating a decline in support for heresy, or the inquisitors were less interested in what was given to heretics, demonstrating a change in inquisitorial focus.14 Arguably, a decline in broad backing for heresy made the old methods, which focused on questions of support, less successful in ferreting out deviance once that network was stretched very thin. In the case of Albi, the inquisitors’ techniques had not yet caught up with the changing circumstances, but Fournier was to reconcile the changing nature of heresy in the region with inquisitorial efforts. 13 G.W. Davis, The Inquisition at Albi, 1299–1300: text of register and analysis (New York, 1974), 27–8. 14 Alternatively, food, the most common charitable donation in previous records, may have been less bountiful than previously. After about 1270, Europe’s economy nearly slowed to the point of no longer functioning. This was the result of decreased agricultural expansion. Putting marginal fields not suited to grain production under the till had reduced yield, and agricultural productivity could no longer be matched by continuing demographic expansion. Consequently, hunger became more common and famine would begin to regularly strike Europe. See M. Montanari, The Culture of Food (Cambridge, 1994), 32.

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Jacques Fournier’s methods of interrogation in the register for the inquisition held in Pamiers between 1318 and 1325 are markedly different from these thirteenth-century registers.15 The court sat for 370 days and dealt with ninety-eight cases focused on 114 people primarily suspected of being followers of the Good Men, although some of the accused were deviants of a different sort. The problem perhaps was perceived as being greatest in the village of Montaillou, which provided twenty-five of the accused, roughly a tenth of the village’s population, the highest percentage of involvement in the region.16 Following the inquisitorial efforts of Geoffroy d’Ablis in the region, Fournier may have been left with precious few heretics to sort through. As Malcolm Barber argues, Fournier was ‘left to chase ghosts, peasants, and one confused and ignorant bonhomme’, to which were added four clerics, two nobles, a lawyer, and a notary.17 Thin pickings though these might have been, he must have been certain that heterodoxy persisted and was determined to eliminate it, for Fournier personally oversaw the vast majority of the 578 interrogations. While he was assisted by others, the inquisitorial record for Pamiers bear his stamp, his methods and interests unquestionably shaping the proceedings.18 The record differs from previous registers in that while his procedure still relied on questions posed to the suspects in order to prompt confession, the amount of detail and the length of these confessions are striking. What existing inquisitorial culture influenced and shaped Fournier’s innovative methods is not entirely clear, but the inquisition at Carcassonne held manuscript copies of Bernard Gui’s Practica inquisitionis (composed c.1323), Rainier Sacconi’s Summa de Catharis et Leonistis, the Disputatio inter catholicum et Paterinum haereticum, and the Waldensian section taken from Stephen of Bourbon’s Spiritus Sancti.19 Fournier may have had access to these guides, but his methods both borrowed from and broke with previous inquisitorial methods. He asked a series of questions ‘pursuing various points and details’, and then the accused was allowed to answer at length. The preservation of 15 Fournier’s register (BAV, MS Vat. lat. 4030) has been edited and translated into French by Jean Duvernoy. See Duvernoy, JF; J. Duvernoy, Inquisition à Pamiers: interrogatoires de Jacques Fournier évêque de Pamiers, 1318–1325 (Toulouse, 1966); J. Duvernoy, Le registre d’Inquisition de Jacques Fournier (évêque de Pamiers: 1318–1325), 3 vols (Paris, 1978). 16 Le Roy Ladurie, Montaillou: the promised land, xiv. 17 M. Barber, The Cathars: dualist heretics in Languedoc in the High Middle Ages (New York, 2000), 197. 18 Le Roy Ladurie, Montaillou: the promised land, xiii–xiv. 19 J. Given, ‘The Inquisitors of Languedoc and the Medieval Technology of Power’, American Historical Review, 94 (1989), 351.

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these responses mimics previous inquisitorial procedures. First, a scribe hastily recorded the confessions during the hearings. Second, the scribe created minutes from these notes. This document was then shown to the accused so that changes might be made to it. The last step involved several scribes, who copied the edited text of the minutes into the final document. It is not only the revision process that separates the reader from the original confession; the translation does so as well, since the accused made their confessions in Occitan. Translation either took place on the fly, the scribe recording notes of the confession in Latin, or at the point of creation of the minute texts. In order to present this text to the accused for alteration, a verbal translation of the confession back into Occitan was made. In their revised state of translation, the length of these confessions is considerable, ‘easily cover[ing] ten, twenty, or even more big folio pages in the Register’.20 Moreover, the content of the confessions differs from earlier registers, driven by what must have been a different sort of questioning. Instead of primarily illuminating material support they include information on heretical beliefs – previously of limited interest – and on the everyday details of life. When those details conflicted with confessions given by others under suspicion, Fournier pursued them further, requiring additional detail from those involved until they could be resolved. It has been proposed that this unique aspect of the Pamiers confessions, this shift in practice and the resulting verbose record, reflects a personal interest on Fournier’s part. Le Roy Ladurie refers to Fournier as ‘obsessional, fanatical and competent’: while being ‘skilful at worming out the truth […] he showed himself “pedantic as a schoolman” and did not hesitate to engage in lengthy discussion’.21 Any or all of this may have been true of Fournier. One’s opinion of him as a man is shaped not only by the register itself, but also by those who were impressed by his abilities as pope and inquisitor, and by his enemies, who took a negative view of his inquiry. What one can say with more certainty is that the scope of inquisitorial questioning was broadened by Fournier. Beyond such a shift simply being the outcome of a quirk of Fournier’s personal interests, there may have been some utility in adopting this new tack. 20 Le Roy Ladurie, Montaillou: the promised land, xv, xvii. 21 Ibid., xii–xiii, xv. Malcolm Lambert refers to Fournier as a ‘most tenacious enquirer’ and states that ‘he was no ordinary interrogator but an unusually conscientious bishop, determined to sift the beliefs and actions of his suspects so as to provide a just penance (or punishment), and by reasoning call them to Catholicism’. Likewise, Edward Peters notes that Fournier’s inquisition was ‘extremely thorough, and it kept superb records’. See Lambert, Medieval Heresy (Malden MA, 2002), 151, 158; E. Peters, Heresy and Authority in Medieval Europe (Philadelphia, 1980), 251.

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Compared to the lengthy confessions of Fournier’s register, thirteenthcentury confessions are decidedly pithy. In the Quercy register, Guillaume Ricart’s confession represents one of the lengthier, more damning examples of a fautor providing material support for heretici, and yet the confession is still neither substantial in length nor in detail. According to the confession, Guillaume gave scissors, a cape, a shirt, a tunic, and a portion of wheat – sins that earned him the penance of supporting a pauper for life.22 In earlier inquisitorial registers it is rare to receive much detail beyond the confession of the giving of the gift itself. Sometimes information regarding relationships between the giver and the heretic was provided, such as a gift given to one of the Good Men, who also happened to be a relation. On occasion, lines of speculation within the confession give a better picture of the circumstances surrounding support and networks of heresy. For example, in the Lauragais fragment, Arnaud de Capelano reported that he served as a letter carrier for the heretics.23 He confessed that a Good Man requested that the letter be delivered to the wife of a knight, who was a credens. The contents of this letter, as Arnaud believed, were intended to reassure their people; but the woman’s husband was not at home to read it, so she suggested that the letter be taken to another woman, who ended up refusing to accept it.24 Generally these pieces of evidence are much more superficial, however, as the answers were shaped by the direct questions asked, such as, ‘Did you give or receive anything from the heretics? If so, what and from whom?’ Inquisitor Pierre Seila and Jean de Saint-Pierre asked about the heretici, about their words and deeds, and, most importantly, about what forms of contact people had with them and what kind of support they provided them with. It is evident, however, from the register that Fournier’s questions went far beyond this. John Arnold has correctly asserted that many of those who appear in Fournier’s register simply would not have been of any interest to 22 BnF, MS Doat 21, fol. 208v. The Doat Collection resulted from the commissioning in 1667 of Jéan de Doat by Jean-Baptiste Colbert to transcribe the original documents found in the archives of Béarn, Languedoc, and Guyenne. This collection was intended to include information of interest, and it eventually filled 258 volumes. For an excellent discussion on the Doat Collection, see Pegg, The Corruption of Angels, 31–3; C. Bruschi, ‘Precautions before Reading Doat 21–26’, in Texts and the Repression of Medieval Heresy, ed. C. Bruschi and P. Biller (Rochester NY, 2003), 83–4. 23 Fragment Bonnet, 1256, in J. Duvernoy, ed. and trans., ‘Le Fragment de registre de Jean de Saint-Pierre et Reginald de Chartres’, 19. Available at http://jean.duvernoy.free.fr/text/pdf/ bonnet.pdf (accessed 6 June 2017). 24 Ibid.

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thirteenth-century inquisitors. 25 In contrast to earlier registers, their evidence contains fewer examples of extensive material support – the previously necessary examples of evidence used to condemn believers, who were often poorly versed in heretical theology – and instead included statements of belief. This evidence is no more polished than that which was extracted from those interrogated by earlier inquisitors. Rather, it was a confused theology, often a mixture of orthodox and unorthodox notions drawn from the teachings of the Good Men, Waldensians, Catholics, and other less easily identifiable sources. Moreover, their confessions quite often contain errors of morality rather than clear-cut errors of belief.26 Arnold argues that Fournier and the inquisition in the fourteenth century were not creating heretics by casting the net wider, but instead were refashioning the category of heresy itself by creating a new discourse. By changing their approach – changing the questions, changing the targets – the inquisition opened up a new avenue for policing the population.27 This may have been the outcome – arguably an unintended one; but perhaps by considering the changing level of material support for heretics found in thirteenth-century registers better access might be afforded to the reasons behind this shift. Fournier would have viewed a change in inquisitorial practice as necessary in order to eliminate heterodoxy in the region. By the fourteenth century, heresy had changed in Languedoc. In particular, it had become a much smaller affair. Only fourteen heretici were in the area at the time, led by Pierre Autier, who was responsible for this temporary revival of heresy.28 The bonhomme of whom Barber speaks was Guillaume Bélibaste, the sole remaining leader at the time of Fournier’s court sitting.29 Bélibaste was somewhat unsuited to the task of leading his flock and spreading the 25 Not only people with some deviation of belief who, without any contact with the heretici, would have fallen outside the net of previous inquisitors, but also converted Jews, sodomites, and lepers. The investigation into a supposed conspiracy by lepers to poison the waters of France was driven by King Philip V’s persecution of lepers. This is notable, as it led to the sole occasion when torture was used during the inquisition in Pamiers. Fournier had Guillaume Agasse, the leader of the leprosarium in Pamiers, tortured in order to force a confession to the false charges. Otherwise, Fournier focused on those whom he believed to be true deviants, however minor their moral mistakes. See Duvernoy, JF, ii, 135–47; Given, ‘The Inquisitors of Languedoc’, 351; Le Roy Ladurie, Montaillou: the promised land, xv. 26 J.H. Arnold, Inquisition and Power: Catharism and the confessing subject in medieval Languedoc (Philadelphia, 2001), 165. 27 Ibid. 28 Arnold, Inquisition and Power, 165. Duvernoy provides information on Pierre Autier’s career. See J. Duvernoy, ‘Pierre Autier’, in Les Cisterciens de Languedoc: XIIIe–XIVe siècles, CF, 21 (1970), 9–49. 29 Duvernoy, JF, ii, 20–81.

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faith. He was originally a shepherd, and supported himself by taking in weaving while he was on the run from the inquisition. His education was by no means impressive, and neither were his personal habits. He kept a mistress and had rather too fine a regard for material things, which unfortunately did not make him a shining example of a Good Man or encourage much growth of the movement. Indeed, Barber suggests that his heretication by Autier illuminates just how desperate the situation had become in the region. Although captured, Bélibaste escaped, fled, and avoided burning in 1309 – unlike the Autier brothers, who were not so fortunate.30 Bélibaste may well have been a poor example of what a Good Man should be, but he was also the last after the death of Raimond of Toulouse in 1314. By necessity, a small band of credentes was left to form around Bélibaste in order still to receive the consolamentum when they were close to death and to hear his preaching, however slipshod a job he made of it.31 Tricked into returning to the region, and captured yet again in 1321, Bélibaste finally was burned as a heretic in the spring of that year south of Carcassonne in Villerouge-Termènes, leaving behind no heretici in Languedoc.32 His remaining believers were either captured or scattered.33 In dealing with these small of numbers of heretici, it is understandable how many of the people in Fournier’s register, unlike those in earlier registers, did not have significant direct contact with them or a chance to support them through material gifts. This is why there was little such evidence to be drawn out during the course of questioning. Indeed, some of the more famous confessions from the register, such as that given by Béatrice de Planissoles, involve people who had little to no contact with heretici, despite their heterodox beliefs.34 Béatrice was the daughter of Philippe de Planissoles, a minor noble and a supporter of the heretici. She first married Bérenger de Roquefort, the castellan of Montaillou. It was there that she mixed with credentes, particularly Pierre Clergue, a priest with heretical sympathies who became her lover after the death of her husband in 1302. For two years Béatrice carried on an affair with the powerful priest. On account of her contact with known credentes, she was brought before the inquisition on 26 July 1320 to answer charges of blasphemy, heresy, 30 Jean-Marie Vidal, ‘Les derniers ministres de l’albigéisme en Languedoc: leurs doctrines’, Revue des questions historiques, 79 (1906), 57–107, at 76. 31 Duvernoy, JF, ii, 28–9. 32 Ibid., i, 416. 33 Barber, The Cathars, 198–201; A.P. Evans, ‘Hunting Subversion in the Middle Ages’, Speculum, 33 (1958), 1–22, at 5. 34 Béatrice plays a central role in Le Roy Ladurie’s Montaillou.

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and witchcraft.35 Committed to prison on 8 March 1320, her sentence was commuted on 16 January 1329 to the penitential wearing of yellow crosses for the remainder of her days.36 As to the traditional questions regarding interaction with the heretici, Béatrice was asked by the tribunal if she had seen, received in her home, or gone to see the heretics. She replied that she had not, apart from seeing Pierre Autier – who was not known to be a heretic at the time – exercise his profession as a notary in service to her husband and seeing Guillaume Autier dance at her marriage ceremony to Bérenger.37 It is a limited confession of contact, and yet Béatrice was taught their errors and believed them to be good men. Without direct contact, one can expect to find only very little in terms of material support. Had Fournier focused on questions of direct interaction and support, as did earlier inquisitors when the network of heresy was more robust and credentes had ample opportunities to give to the heretici, he would have garnered very little in the way of evidence. That did not mean that Béatrice was cleared of heresy, merely that the number of heretici was so limited that her interaction with and material support of them could not solely be counted on as evidence of her crimes. Indeed, she confessed to having held heretical beliefs herself while stating very clearly that she had never seen before or since a Good Man.38 Earlier inquisitors focused on support and interaction, but Fournier broadened his questioning to centre on belief and deeds beyond interaction with heretics to include a whole broad category of immoral acts. Consequently, one finds in the register evidence not only of support and interaction but also of heretical belief, witchcraft, and sexual immorality. Fournier’s approach, while different from those who came before him, provided the evidence that was required to hunt down heterodoxy, proof of which can be found in Béatrice’s confession. Instead of merely providing a catalogue of support, she spoke of what she knew about the beliefs of the Good Men, about morality, and about herself in great depth.39 35 Duvernoy, JF, i, 553; J. Duvernoy, Inquisition à Pamiers: interrogatoires de Jacques Fournier, 1318–1325 (Toulouse, 1966), 49. 36 For Béatrice’s sentencing, see Sermon de Pamiers, Archives Départmentales de l’Ariège, MS J 127, fol. B, r. 37 Duvernoy, JF, i, 216–8. 38 ‘Dixit eciam quod illo tempore in quo erat in credentia dictorum heresium, non vidit, nec ante nec post, aliquem hereticum, quem hereticum esse sciret, licet crederet illos esse bonos homines, quia sustinebant martirium pro Deo, sicut fuerat instructa per dictum sacerdotem, quod solum in secta eorum homo salvari posset’, ibid., i, 232. 39 Arnold, Inquisition and Power, 197–214.

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In explaining her beliefs to Fournier, Béatrice expounded on the nature of the sacrament, the nature of Christ, the inutility of the Church’s sacraments of confession and marriage, the reincarnation of spirits, the consolamentum, the evils of the material world, and the rejection of the practices of venerating the Cross and the saints. In regard to the Eucharist, Béatrice reported that she sometimes said that if the Body of Christ was very large, it would already have been eaten many times over as pastry. 40 She was taught that Christ was contained within the Virgin without taking anything from her and that during his life he neither ate nor drank, though it appeared as if he did. Venerating the Cross was wrong, for the instrument upon which Christ was crucified was an abomination. 41 Kings, princes, prelates, and the religious, as well as any who were rich, could not be saved, for only the Good Men would be saved. 42 Souls were reincarnated nine times, and should they not be reincarnated into the body of a Good Man within those nine lives, they would be damned.43 God did not make Adam and Eve or the sacrament of marriage.44 Likewise, confessions made to priests were worth nothing, but priests heard them in order to receive revenues.45 When asked if she had been taught that the Old Testament was not a creation of the good god, Béatrice responded that she had been told that with the exception of the Gospels and the Pater Noster, everything in the Bible was a lie. 46 As to the defining ritual of the Good Men, she described the consolamentum as 40 ‘Quia si fuisset corpus Christi ita magna sicut Podium de Bolca, comestum fuisset multa tempora sunt in pasta’, Duvernoy, JF, i, 218. 41 ‘Solum continetur in eo, sic Christus habitavit in virgine Maria, nichil recipendo ab ipsa, sed solum fuit in ipsa, sicut contentum in continente […] Christus licet cenasset cum discipulis suis, tamen ipse nunquam comedit vel bibit, licet comedere et bibere videretur […] quia Christus fuit crucifixus in cruce, nullus deberet venerari vel adorare crucem, quia tantum vituperium Christo factum fuit in ea’, ibid., i, 230. 42 ‘Reges et principes, prelati et religiosi et omnes illi qui divitias habent salvare non poterant, nisi soli illi boni christiani’, ibid., i, 219. 43 ‘Et si inter dicta novem corpora non erat aliquod corpus boni christiani, tunc dicta anima dampnabatur’, ibid., i, 220. 44 ‘Et ipsa intellexit quod dictus sacerdos diceret quod Deus non fecerat Adam et Evam nec instituerat matrimonium inter eos’, ibid., i, 224. 45 ‘Et cum ipsa diceret dicto sacerdoti, ex quo non valet aliquid confessio facta sacerdotibus, nec absolvere possunt de peccatis, nec satisfactiones per eos iniuncte aliquid valent, cur ipse audiebat confessiones, absolvebat et satisfactiones imponebat, dictus sacerdos respondit ei quod oportebat quod talia ipse et alii sacerdotes facerent, licet nichil valerent, quia alias ipsi amitterent redditus suos, et nichil daretur eis, nisi facerent illud quod Ecclesia precipit’, ibid., i, 227. 46 ‘Omnes scripture, preter Evangelia et Pater noster erant affitilhas et verba non vera’, ibid., i, 241.

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a ceremony in which the Good Men laid hands upon the dying, so as to absolve them of their sins. 47 Alongside these heretical beliefs, Béatrice also stated that she attended confession, visited churches, and made a candle for the Catholic purification ceremony following childbirth for the church of Sainte Marie de Carnesses, demonstrating the not uncommon mix of beliefs present within the confessions in the Fournier register. 48 Beyond orthodox and heterodox beliefs, Béatrice was asked to detail her beliefs on morality. She expressed her view that it was a good thing for brother to marry sister and there was no difference in sinning between having relations with a priest and any other man – beliefs which were something of a corruption of the Good Men’s rejection of coitus. 49 But it was not only heresy of which Béatrice was suspected. The line of questioning put to her for the charge of witchcraft expands the picture of her personal beliefs beyond orthodoxy or the recognized categories of heresy, as her responses most probably belong in the category of folk beliefs. These charges were supported by physical evidence found in her possession and her statements regarding these items. The items in her personal effects were: two umbilical cords tucked away in her purse; linens soaked with what appeared to be menstrual blood held in a leather sack, along with a colewort seed and partially burned incense; a mirror and a small knife wrapped in another piece of linen; the seed of another plant wrapped in muslin; a dry piece of millet bread; written formulas; and various other bits of linen cloth.50 These objects placed her under strong suspicion of witchcraft and casting spells, and for that reason Fournier asked why and for what purpose she possessed them. Béatrice responded that her possession of these items was shaped not by sorcery but by popular folk cures and the teachings of a baptized Jewess. She claimed she retained the umbilical cords of her male grandchildren because this woman told her that in the case of a lawsuit being brought against her, she would not lose as long as she carried the cords. It was also the word of this woman that led her to carry the linens which 47 ‘Per imposicionem manuum illorum, quando homo vel mulier est iuxta mortem, salvantur vel absolvuntur a peccatis quecumque commiserent’, ibid., i, 225. 48 ‘Quia ipsa fecerat unam candela vocatam retinctam, voluit ire ad ecclesiam Beate Marie de Carnessas’, ibid., i, 223. 49 ‘Sed quantum ad Deum equale peccatum est cognoscere mulierem extraneam quamcumque sicut est cognoscere sororem suam vel quamcumque aliam coniunctam homini in consanguinitate […] et ad ostendendum quod melius esset mundo quod frater reciperet in uxorem suam sororem’, ibid., i, 225. 50 Ibid., i, 247.

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were stained with the menstrual blood of her daughter Philippa. Following the woman’s instructions, Béatrice cut out a bloodied segment of the girl’s undergarments, dried the linen, and saved it with the intention of giving it in a drink to her daughter’s future husband so as to ensure that he would never care for any another woman. However, when Philippa later became engaged, Béatrice decided to wait for the marriage to be consummated, and also thought it best that Philippa gave the drink to her husband herself. This plan was averted by Béatrice’s arrest, for at the time she was seized by the inquisition the wedding had not yet taken place, and, therefore, the item was still in her possession.51 Likewise, Béatrice claimed the other items were not for the purpose of sorcery but for healing. The incense was for her daughter’s headaches, which were relieved by the burning of incense better than by any other method. The muslin-wrapped seed was given to her by a pilgrim who told her that it was a cure for falling sickness, from which one of her grandsons had previously suffered. However, her daughter Condors took her son to church, where he was healed, and therefore Béatrice did not use the seed. Despite this litany of folk charms and cures, Béatrice insisted that she had never learned or cast any evil spells, although she sometimes wondered whether Barthélemy Amilhac, her lover, had cast one on her.52 It is a fascinating glimpse into folk belief, but the line of questioning that produced this evidence is significant for reasons beyond the cultural information that it produced. In common with much of the information contained in Béatrice’s confession, it would not have been teased out by the line of questioning of thirteenth-century inquisitors. Earlier inquisitors did not actively seek evidence of witchcraft. Indeed, for much of the Middle Ages, to believe in the existence of witches was itself heresy. But Béatrice was not the sole suspect brought before the Pamiers tribunal on charges of witchcraft. Her lover, Barthélemy Amilhac, was suspected of witchcraft as a result of her statement, and Raimond de l’Aire, also known as Bor, stood accused of invocation of the Devil.53 Arnaud Laufre confessed that Bor was heard to invoke the Devil while working with a team of oxen in the fields and that, upon his invocation, the yoke on the oxen reversed and was put back in its proper place. Incidents of suspected sorcery also presented themselves in the confessions of Jacotte Carot and Fabrissa den Riba of Montaillou.54 51 Ibid., i, 247–8. 52 Ibid., i, 248–9. 53 Ibid., i, 251; ibid., ii, 126. 54 Ibid., i, 156–7, 328.

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Jacotte related that ‘the art’ was practised out of her sight because she did not wish to view it, but her son-in-law told her it had been done. This sorcery consisted of a child being made to gaze into a looking glass for the purpose of recovering a lost or stolen item, while Fabrissa confessed that fingernails, toenails, and hair was taken from a dead body so that good fortune might remain in the household. The questions Fournier put to these suspects might represent a turning tide among churchmen towards more widespread belief in witchcraft, although his contemporary, Bernard Gui, had little to say about sorcery in his manual. After all, while witch hunting would not become widespread until somewhat later, in 1326 Pope John XXII authorized inquisitors to persecute not witches but rather those who invoked the Devil.55 One could argue that the category of heretic was being recreated or expanded to include people previously not of interest so as to continue to control the population. Alternatively, by widening inquiry through a greater emphasis on belief in the absence of interaction and support of the heretici, Fournier stumbled upon folk beliefs that smacked of magic, unintentionally sparking new concerns and new avenues for future investigation. Although it certainly has no true equal in the thirteenth-century registers, Béatrice’s elaboration on her mixed bag of beliefs is not exceptional within Fournier’s register. The register is full of those who, in response to his detailed questioning, profess a blend of orthodox and heterodox beliefs from both recognized categories of heresy and those of unknown origin, proving at least that there were heterodox beliefs in the region, if not a great many actual heretici or wandering Waldensian preachers. It was these beliefs that Fournier sought to exterminate, in as far as he sought to eliminate the heretici themselves and, as he saw it, the only way to uncover them was by questioning people on points of belief. While the loss of another of Fournier’s registers makes the breakdown of the types and numbers of heretics in the region less certain, even given their lengthy history in the region, popular belief inspired by the Good Men was perhaps the most common form of deviation amongst those under 55 For an edition of the decretal Super illius specula by John XXII, see J. Hansen, Quellen und Untersuchungen zur Geschichte des Hexenwahns und der Hexenverfolgung im Mittelalter (Bonn, 1901), 5–6. This study utilizes the translation provided by E. Peters in Witchcraft in Europe, 400–1700: A Documentary History, ed. A.C. Kors and E. Peters (Philadelphia, 2001), 119–20. For other discussions about John XXII and witchcraft, see E. Peters, The Magician, the Witch, and the Law (Philadelphia, 1982), 129–35; J. Russell, Witchcraft in the Middle Ages (Ithaca NY, 1972), 171–5; N. Cohn, Europe’s Inner Demons (Chicago, 2000), 192–7; A. Boureau, Satan hérétique: naissance de la démonologie dans l’Occident médiéval (1280–1330) (Paris, 2004).

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interrogation in the remaining register.56 Furthermore, by this time inquisitors were well versed in the supposed errors of the heretici, so it is probable that Fournier’s questions shaped the confessions to uncover a recognizable set of doctrines. These beliefs centred on the dualism for which southern French heretici were known, including: the existence of two gods; the rejection of the material world; the idea of the good god not being the creator god; a belief in reincarnation of souls; and the rejection of various principles of the Catholic Church, including the resurrection of the flesh. For example, Arnaud Cogul de Lordat confessed his beliefs to Fournier, recounting elements also found in Béatrice’s confession. He stated that God was good and therefore could not have made the Devil or demons or the wolf. Instead, he was the creator of good, incorporeal things such as spirits, good angels, and the sky. On Judgment Day, he stated that all human bodies and their bones would be dissolved into the earth. Arnaud insisted that while the Lord appeared to take flesh, he was never actually a man; nor did he ever eat or drink.57 These are all identif iably tenets of the Good Men, which hinge on the material world being evil, a belief that appears in numerous forms throughout the confessions. The widow Grazide, former wife of Pierre Lizier of Montaillou, stated her heretical beliefs on sexual morality, which included that all carnal union was displeasing to God, even between man and wife – for coitus was considered a sin by the Good Men. But she added that it was not a sin so long as it was pleasing to both of them. She professed to believe in Heaven, but would not affirm or deny her belief in Hell, for it was an evil thing. Likewise, she had heard of the resurrection of the flesh, but would not confirm or deny her belief in it. Dualist beliefs must have shaped her confession that only material things that were good and useful were made by God – while wolves, mosquitoes, lizards, and other harmful things were not – and she did not believe that God made the Devil, for God never made an evil thing. Grazide’s replies were largely insolent, meant to obscure her heterodox beliefs in spite of Fournier’s dogged questioning, and yet, she unintentionally exposed herself in her avowal that all carnal relations were sinful. No doubt she believed herself to be confessing Catholic belief, but in reality it was a heretical tenet, again connected to the rejection of the material world and coitus.58 Also related to this rejection, Brune Pourcel confessed that she had 56 A. Maier, ‘Der Katalog der päpstlichen Bibliothek in Avignon vom Jahr 1441’, in Maier, Ausgehendes, iii, 144; Ehrle, Historia bibliothecae, 316. 57 Duvernoy, JF, i, 378–81. 58 Ibid., i, 302–6.

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been taught by a heretic that it was a sin to harm or kill animals, a belief that might be associated with the Good Men’s prohibition on eating meat.59 Finally, Guillaume Austatz confessed to having held the heretical tenet of reincarnation of the soul. He had heard it said that souls were doomed to be reborn some seven to nine times, although Guillaume viewed this not so much as a form of torment – being forced to take material form, which should have been an evil to a Good Man – but as a way to console those who had lost children. He likewise denied the resurrection of the flesh and rejected that Purgatory existed.60 Despite Fournier’s efforts to establish suspects as credentes, some beliefs of the Good Men were more clearly expressed in the confessions than others. Bernard Franque’s confession and those given against him, for example, were fairly explicit in implicating their doctrine. It was reported that Bernard openly taught in public that there were two gods – one good and one evil. His confession then went on to sound much like Grazide’s. He confessed to believing that the good god made all the good creatures – angels, good human souls, and the animals useful to man – while the evil god made all the demons and the dangerous animals: wolves, serpents, toads, flies, and venomous creatures. This was clear dualist doctrine, and yet, when interrogated, Bernard initially denied these beliefs and implicated himself in a belief less easily categorized: he stated that everything was fated and, therefore, he had never had cause to feel guilt for his sin, since it was fated to happen and beyond his control. Nor did Bernard think he would gain merit from doing good deeds, since he was fated to do so. He claimed that he had not been taught these errors by anyone, but that it was a common phrase – what will be will be – that led him to this conclusion.61 More limited evidence of Waldensian beliefs appear in the register containing the depositions of Agnès Francou, Raimond de Sainte-Foy, Jean de Vienne, Huguette, and Bérenger Escoulan. As with the Good Men, Waldensianism was a heresy with which inquisitors were long familiar by the fourteenth century. Employing this knowledge, Fournier, whose methods relied on evidence of belief, would have known what questions to ask to ferret out recognizably Waldensian tenets. However, unlike many of those convicted by Fournier of holding tenets of the Good Men, this group of confessions are the declarations of people who actively engaged with and supported heretics in the manner that would have been familiar to 59 Ibid., i, 387. 60 Ibid., i, 191–213. 61 Ibid., i, 350–69.

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thirteenth-century inquisitors. Therefore, in addition to learning of their beliefs – which centred on the sin of oath taking, the rejection of capital punishment and war, the rejection of Purgatory and works on behalf of the dead, and the belief that those within their sect might perform the sacraments with the same efficacy as those performed by priests within the Catholic hierarchy – one can also see how interaction and support for heresy continued to occur with heretic leadership stretched incredibly thin. Huguette and Agnès were suspected of heresy, implicating and implicated by their husbands, and their confessions gave ample proof of Waldensian tenets. Huguette, the wife of Jean, refused to swear an oath. She confessed to believing that when members of her sect heard confession it was as effective as a priest of the Catholic Church doing the same. She was taught that there was no Purgatory and that masses, prayers, alms, and other works performed by the living for the dead were worthless. Likewise, she heard and believed that indulgences were useless. She stated that to kill a man was a sin even in war or in the case of criminals and heretics.62 Agnès’s deceased husband, Stephen, was known to be a member of that sect. As proof of her Waldensian beliefs, for which she was burned, Agnès refused to swear an oath at the beginning of her testimony, saying she had been taught not to swear oaths, go barefoot, or lie for fear of her life.63 Agnès came to Pamiers in the company of Raimond de la Côte, also known as Sainte-Foy. While Huguette and Agnès were credentes, Raymond was suspected of being a heretic on account of his behaviour and of the books found in his house. His is one of the longest confessions in Fournier’s register, though exceptionally repetitive because of his innumerable retractions of previously stated beliefs, which required that Fournier continually ask him the same questions so as to eliminate contradictions. His role as deacon may have likewise encouraged Fournier to pursue a more intensive line of questioning. Like Agnès, Raimond refused to give an oath; but over the course of questioning he stated that those who died in a state of sin would either go to Heaven or Hell at God’s pleasure, and masses, prayers, and alms for the dead served no purpose, there being no Purgatory.64 He described how ordination took place within their group outside the hierarchy of the Catholic Church and how he was made a deacon.65 He explained that all of the higher members of his sect were dead and they had not replaced them 62 Ibid., i, 519–32. 63 Ibid., i, 40, 123–7. 64 Ibid., i, 42, 64–5, 84–6, 92, 95, 103. 65 Ibid., i, 48–9, 55–9, 70.

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for fear of being arrested by the inquisition.66 While there were not many left to perform the sacraments, those performed by members of his sect had the same virtue and efficacy as those performed by the Catholic Church, and those who lived as mendicants, as the Waldensians did, were living in a state closer to God.67 Finally, he stated that his sect was the true Church and the Roman Catholic Church was in error on all points where the two faiths did not agree.68 Jean de Vienne also appeared before Fournier and, like the others, refused to swear an oath. After initial obfuscation in his testimony, he rejected the existence of Purgatory, stated that works for the dead were without utility, refused to believe that excommunication could bar one from salvation, and said that executing criminals and heretics was a sin. He recounted that he had learned these errors twelve years earlier when he had the Gospels read to him in the vernacular – further proof of Waldensian practice. Refusing to recant his beliefs, both Jean and his wife Huguette were burned as obstinate heretics on the same day.69 Despite Fournier’s extensive questioning, not all of the beliefs recounted before the tribunal were easy to categorize as either Waldensian or those of the Good Men – not surprising, given that thirteenth-century inquisitors could rarely extract clear-cut evidence of heretical beliefs beyond that the people believed the heretics to be good and that they could be saved through them and, therefore, had to rely on the sizable evidence of interaction and support the laity gave the heretics. In absence of that support, however, Fournier was perhaps forced to rely on statements of belief, and there were certainly heterodox beliefs afloat – but how well schooled the laity were in any one type of heresy is debatable. It is likely that they borrowed from orthodox and heterodox sources as they encountered them and came to their own conclusions based on sometimes questionable or incomplete teachings, resulting in notions that while decidedly unorthodox, did not neatly fit any of the examples of heresy present in inquisitorial manuals. Some suspects under Fournier’s questioning expressed anticlericalism, such as Pierre Sabatier de Varilhes, who blasphemed on several occasions and said that clerics spoke buffoonery and lies.70 Others recounted more explicit heterodox views. Witnesses against Arnaud de Savinhan confessed 66 Ibid., i, 60. 67 Ibid., i, 60–3, 72, 79. 68 Ibid., i, 52–3, 84–6. 69 Ibid., i, 508–18, 554. 70 Ibid., i, 144–50.

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that he claimed the world was without beginning and without end, being uncreated, and that it had and always would be as it was now. He also stood accused of saying that man had always been and would always be. He confessed to much the same, although he asserted that he knew man to have been created by God. To this he added that all bodies would be destroyed on Judgment Day. When questioned as to who taught him this, he said that knowing the seven Psalms, a little of the Psalter, the fifteen signs of Judgment, the Credo, the Pater Noster, the Ave Maria, he came to his own conclusions, but no one had taught him such a thing. All of this amounted to heresy, but there was seemingly no master in this heresy aside from Arnaud, these notions being the formulations of his own mind. Sentenced to the wearing of crosses for his crimes, Arnaud did not follow through with his penance and was placed in prison. In his later confession, he argued that his penance was unfair, for he had never been or seen a heretic. He related a conversation with his fellow inmates, who all agreed that they too had never seen or spoken to heretics.71 Similarly, Aude, the wife of Guillaume Fauré, confessed to having once rejected that the host became the body of Christ, but no one had taught her such a thing and she had never seen a heretic.72 These confessions amply demonstrate the altered state of heresy in the region increasingly devoid of heretici, and how belief supplanted interaction as the prime method that Fournier used to uncover heresy. One of the more entertaining examples in the register of heretical belief of an indef inite sort is contained within the lengthy deposition of one Arnaud Gélis, described as ‘the Drunkard’, and the deposition of the priest, Arnaud de Monesple, to whom the Drunkard had reported some of these heretical beliefs. Arnaud the Drunkard believed that he communed with the spirits nightly, pushed along by them from church to church. He provided the tribunal with the following information about the spirits. They had the appearance of men, held hands together, wore white linen unless they were religious in life, in which case they wore the habits of their order, and travelled every day but Sunday, when they rested until Monday morning. They frequented the churches where they had been parishioners and were buried. Some travelled quickly, others more slowly; some seemed weak and fell down from time to time. He even claimed to have observed a mounted pair. The spirits of Jews travelled alongside the spirits of Christians, but they did not enter the churches. 71 Ibid., i, 160–8; ibid., ii, 430–40. 72 Ibid., ii, 82–105.

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These spirits not only drove Arnaud the Drunkard along, but also imparted to him a whole host of heretical notions about which Fournier questioned him. They taught him that Purgatory was not necessary, for by going from church to church souls completed their penance before moving on to a location called Repose, which he believed could be found somewhere here on earth. The spirits sometimes appeared to him and made requests for masses to be celebrated in their name, so they could go to rest, and he would carry these requests to their relatives. He also believed that no human soul would be damned because on Judgment Day the Virgin would intercede with the Lord for the souls of all Christians and Jews – for she was of their race – and by her prayer all souls would be saved. Before Judgment Day, only the holiest of spirits would go to Heaven, while the others waited in Repose following their penance. He claimed that the spirits told him that since humans were made in God’s image, no man would ever be condemned. Instead, all men who received baptism were saved. Jews and Muslims might also be saved, so long as they sought God’s mercy. Without need of Hell, he stated that Hell was merely for the torment of demons.73 For these beliefs Arnaud the Drunkard was convicted of heresy – a heresy with nothing in common with either the tenets of the Good Men or Waldensians – without any evidence of interaction with heretics, and despite the fact that his visions might not have been disconnected from whatever behaviour earned him his nickname, demonstrating how belief and behaviour could be interrelated and drawn out via Fournier’s methods. Regardless, Arnaud’s beliefs, instead of falling into a well-known category of heresy, most likely reflect folk beliefs, which might not have been discovered by a less belief-oriented form of questioning.74 It was not only deviant belief that Fournier wished to uncover, but deviant behaviour as well. While his focus – sexual immorality – differed from that of his predecessors, in addressing action he was more in line with thirteenthcentury inquisitors, who looked to the actions of fautores as evidence rather than belief. Sexual indiscretions would have been an unlikely detail to find in thirteenth-century registers, although one stereotype developed by churchmen was the heretics’ sexual appetite and, therefore, indiscretions were not entirely out of place. Béatrice de Planissoles confessed her sexual exploits to the tribunal. She elaborated upon her sexual relationships with both Raimond Clergue and Pierre Clergue, who were first cousins. Also troubling was the fact that these 73 Ibid., i, 128–43, 533–6. 74 C. Ginzburg, The Night Battles: witchcraft and agrarian cults in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries (Baltimore MD, 1983).

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relations overlapped to some degree. Furthermore, she had relations with Pierre after she contracted her second marriage with Othon de Lagleize. She also had sexual relations with Pierre inside a church.75 Béatrice’s dealings with Barthélemy Amilhac, the priest of Lladros, were enough to draw him under suspicion of heresy and witchcraft as well, and because of their sexual relationship, he was denounced for keeping her as a concubine. He confessed to having known her sexually, after which he took her to a notary. There she gave him the title to her dowry and he pledged all his goods, promising that if there were sons or daughters from the union, they would be his heirs. Although they did not take marriage vows, he promised to provide for her needs and maintain the family in sickness and health. This was made public record by Pierre de Lubersu, and afterward Barthélemy kept her in his house openly as his concubine.76 That a priest kept a concubine was by no means unheard of at the time, but also not something that would have been countenanced in the course of investigation by Fournier. Béatrice and her lovers are not the only examples of sexual impropriety in the register. Pierre Clergue also had his fair share of affairs, including with the aforementioned Grazide. She recounted her relations with Pierre Clergue both before and after her marriage. This admission amounted to a confession of both adultery and incest, for he and her mother were first cousins.77 Another famous case from the Fournier register is that of Arnaud de Verniolles, who appeared before the inquisition on charges of heresy and sodomy. As to the crime of heresy, Arnaud stood accused of and confessed to impersonating a priest and wrongfully hearing confessions. He said it was much the same to confess to one man as another, and that he could hear confessions in his home because that was just as pleasing to God. This heretical belief sounds Waldensian and, indeed, Arnaud was accused of frequently speaking with Raimond de la Côte, the Waldensian heretic discussed above. He expressed further heterodoxy in claiming that it was a lesser sin to lie with a man than with a woman. Beyond these charges stood the accusations levelled at Arnaud of committing sodomy with various students in Pamiers. Guillaume Roux, a sixteen-year-old liberal arts student in Pamiers, reported to the tribunal that he was coerced into sexual relations with Arnaud, was offered money by him to continue these relations, and was physically and sexually assaulted by him on two other occasions. Additionally, Arnaud offered to secure 75 Duvernoy, JF, i, 238–9, 243. 76 Ibid., i, 251–9. 77 Ibid., i, 302.

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women for Guillaume for the purpose of sex. It was much the same with the other students, with varying degrees of coercion on Arnaud’s part and reluctance on theirs to confess. Arnaud claimed that he had sex with young men instead of women because he had had sex with a prostitute and his face had swelled up, causing him to fear that he was infected with leprosy. He foreswore having sex with women henceforth, but he also confessed that as a child at school he had been sodomized by another student. He confessed to having consensual sexual relations with the students, and ranked sodomy below rape, deflowering a virgin, adultery, and incest, but equal to carnal knowledge of women and prostitutes.78 The inclusion of sodomy as an ‘unnatural’ act associated with heresy represents yet another extension of the category of sinners under investigation by the inquisition. Much as in the case of witchcraft, Arnaud’s unnatural crime’s presence in the register was perhaps an unintentional result of the broadened questioning; but, in the future, sodomy would unquestionably play a larger role in secular trials that borrowed from the inquisitorial tradition.79 For all these revelations of immoral acts or confused, heterodox views, very few of the above suspects reported providing any type of aid to heretics. Fournier questioned people’s beliefs and practices for proof of their deviance because, according to their testimony, they rarely interacted directly with heretics. That is not to say none of the confessions contain evidence of interaction and support. One can find limited evidence for support given to the heretici within the Pamiers register, since those confessing were asked to recall a time when there was more than just one heretic in the region. While severely limited, the type of support – gifts of food and drink, donations of money, housing heretics, and unpaid services – reflects what one would expect to find in a thirteenth-century register, no doubt shaped by Fournier’s reliance on the standard questions for uncovering support. In Béatrice’s lengthy confession, she admitted to personally making a few gifts, and revealed others who were engaged in support as well. She was told that the Good Men would only pray for her if she sent them something and that they would take anything, so she had five coins sent through an intermediary, Bernard Belot. Similarly, she used Alazais, a sister of one of the heretics and a regular contributor of alms to the heretics, as an intermediary to deliver a quarter of a bushel of wheat to them. Alazais’s son, Raimond, 78 Ibid., iii, 14–62; Arnold, Inquisition and Power, 214–5. 79 M. Goodich, The Unmentionable Vice: homosexuality in the later medieval period (New York, 1979), 13–5; G. Ruggiero, The Boundaries of Eros: sex crimes and sexuality in Renaissance Venice (New York, 1985), 109–45.

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was also an intermediary for the heretics, and Béatrice claimed she saw him carrying a sack of food to them. She also reported a rumour that heretics were welcome in the homes of Raimond and Bernard Belot, Alazais, and Guillaume Benet. Furthermore, she said that it was rumoured that these people not only had heretics in their home but also served as guides for them.80 The small circle of Waldensians present in the register gave evidence of support, having more contact with actual heretics than some of the others appearing before the tribunal. Agnès Francou reported that she was housed by the now deceased Huguette. Huguette, Jean’s wife, recounted how she gave something to eat and drink to the Waldensian who originally had taught her their errors, and half a pound of dates to another.81 In service to one of the heretics, Jean de Vienne had coins changed into florins.82 The most common reason for contact and support revolved around the consolamentum. Belief in the ability of the Good Men to save the souls of the sick and dying by administering the consolamentum was a key identifying element of heresy in earlier inquisitions. Evidence of this service provided by the heretici appears in Fournier’s register as well. If support or interaction was occurring, Fournier would certainly still have been interested in drawing it out through his questioning, and the consolamentum was as good an occasion as any to interact with and provide charity to the heretics. Arnaud Fabre, for example, attended the heretication of Guillaume Guilabert, believing that the heretici could absolve the sick man of his sins and save his soul. He did not, however, ever see them again or give anything to them.83 Donations in return for this service were always welcome, however, and Alamande Guilabert gave Guillemette Benet two woollen fleeces to be taken to the heretics so that they might pray to God for the soul of her son, whom they had hereticated a few days earlier.84 Services provided for the heretics could be as useful as gifts, and Pierre Magre of Rabat conducted a heretic in order that he could hereticate a sick man.85 Others had contact with heretics outside the consolamentum. Brune Pourcel, widow of Guillaume Pourcel of Montaillou and daughter of the heretic Prades Tavernier, was rather more intimately connected with heretics than one often finds in the register because of her family relations. She 80 Duvernoy, JF, i, 233, 236, 237. 81 Ibid., i, 522–3. 82 Ibid., i, 513. 83 Ibid., i, 429–35. 84 Ibid., i, 425. 85 Ibid., i, 331–3.

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stood accused of having seen, adored, and heard the sermons of the Good Men. It was believed that she was a credens who had accompanied them, been present at various heretications, given them things or brought things to them for others, and hidden them from the authorities. Brune confessed to having housed a woman who had undergone the consolamentum until the time of the woman’s death, and on behalf of others she transported wine, bread, and a porringer of flour to a house where the Autier brothers were hidden.86 This is the kind of support and interaction one finds in thirteenth-century registers, probably made possible in this case by Brune Pourcel’s close relation to Prades Tavernier, a Good Man. Similarly, Raimonde, the widow of Prades Arsen of Arnave, was suspected of having seen, adored, believed, and given her goods to the late Guillaume Autier and several other heretics, although she only confessed to having interacted with them as a servant and believed in their errors without providing them with any support.87 Guillemette Clergue also had reason for close dealings with the heretics, as her uncle was Prades Tavernier and both her father and mother hosted heretics. She stood accused of having seen, heard, and adored the heretics, of having believed in their errors, and of having sent them things; and in her confession she accused various women of operating a veritable hostel for heretics and carrying cabbages, milk, and wine to them.88 In another case, Raimond de Laburat of Quié was accused of receiving Good Men and giving them bread and wine.89 The aforementioned Fabrissa confessed to having sent half a quart of wine at another’s bequest to a house, where she suspected heretics to be staying.90 Guillaume Fort confessed to having accompanied and led heretics.91 Therefore, one can find evidence of support – monetary and food donations, housing, and services in the form of guides – though this evidence is certainly not as prevalent as that found in the thirteenth-century registers as a result of the limited heretical leadership left to support. By this time, not everyone in Languedoc was willing to offer aid to heretics, as made clear by a story told to Béatrice by Raimond Roussel about a pair of ladies, Alesta and Serena. When they arrived at an inn in Toulouse, they were questioned by the hostess. The hostess was not willing to house heretics. She asked them to prepare two chickens as a test of their 86 Ibid., i, 382–94. 87 Ibid., i, 370–7. 88 Ibid., i, 334–49. 89 Arnold, Inquisition and Power, 180. 90 Duvernoy, JF, i, 325–6. 91 Ibid., i, 452.

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orthodoxy, and left. When she returned, the women had not killed the chickens, exposing themselves as heretics. As a result, the hostess turned them in to the inquisition.92 Furthermore, the primary service provided by the Good Men were their rituals for the dead, a service which was most welcomed by those confessing to thirteenth-century inquisitors. There is evidence in Fournier’s register that such services were no longer universally welcome. For example, the aforementioned Alamande Guilabert confessed that when her son was very sick, Guillaume Belot, a fautor, offered to have heretics sent so that her son might be absolved of sin and received into the faith. Her son was eager to accept, but Alamande refused for some time before being convinced by her daughter to allow it. By the fourteenth century what supporters of heresy risked was no secret, and Alamande confessed that her reluctance resulted from fear that her goods would be taken as a result of her son’s heresy. Furthermore, despite eventually allowing the heretication of her son, when her daughter suggested that she send some food to the heretics, who could not work for fear of arrest, Alamande refused, saying they would not eat her food, suggesting she knew that inquisitors used gifts of food as evidence of support.93 This reluctance to support heretics, rejection of their services, and willingness to report them reveals that after a long history of inquisition in the region, it was not unreasonable for people in Languedoc to understand the risks of aiding heretics – and they were often disinclined to undertake those risks. Fear of the inquisition and the influence of the friars may have been instrumental in lessening the support for heresy in the region. Indeed, Béatrice herself reported that when she was in Crampagna with her second husband, she heard the preaching of the Dominicans and Franciscans and, as a result, abandoned the errors of the Good Men and confessed at the Franciscan convent of Limoux.94 How does this dwindling support relate to Fournier’s change in procedure? The inquisitorial register for Albi might help explain this change in tactics. As noted, the register for Albi contains evidence for support of heretics through housing, monetary donations, and services in the form of guiding the heretics. This is very similar to what one finds in Fournier’s register. What is absent from the Albi register are gifts of food and clothing and services over and above guiding heretici, support prominently found in earlier registers. Arguably, by the time of the inquiry at Albi, the laity was less eager 92 Ibid., i, 220–1. 93 Ibid., i, 423–5. 94 Ibid., i, 232.

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and more wary of supporting heretics, and yet, the inquisitors’ questions and procedures that shaped suspects’ confessions were largely the same. To test this comparison, one might also examine the register of Fournier’s predecessor, the Dominican Geoffroy d’Ablis, appointed the inquisitor of Carcassonne in 1302.95 The d’Ablis register contains the depositions of the individuals who sat before his tribunal from May 1308 to September 1309. The purpose of this inquiry was closely related to Fournier’s, for it meant to deal with the revival of heresy spawned by the Autiers. The questions asked by d’Ablis of those under suspicion were as follows: Have you seen a heretic? Have you sheltered them in your house? Have you assisted in a heretication? Have you made donations or received anything from the heretics? Have you participated in the ceremony of the blessed bread? Have you believed their errors? It was a rigid formula, much like the questioning found in the thirteenth-century registers for Quercy and Toulouse. There are several reasons why d’Ablis might have followed this careful formula. It was certainly the tried and true method, but beyond this he may have felt compelled to take great care, since the inquisition and the Dominican convent at Carcassonne recently had come under attack. Both the pope and the king of France were critical of the inquisition at Albi, where, according to the historian Henry Charles Lea, the suspects were among some of the wealthiest, most respected, and orthodox in the area, and there is at least some evidence for their wealth in the confiscation and sale of the properties.96 Careful, measured questions might have helped to confirm the validity of the charges being brought against the suspects in d’Ablis’ register, to have eliminated false witnesses as much as possible, and saved the inquisition from coming under further attack from those both inside and outside the Church. Whatever the reason for d’Ablis’s methods, the register is less detailed than Fournier’s and the confessions not as long.97 Nevertheless, using these methods, d’Ablis eliminated the vast majority of the heretici in the region. By 1312, thanks to the combined efforts of d’Ablis 95 Irene Bueno also compares the procedures of these registers, examining their distinct aspects as evidence of the flexibility within inquisitorial procedure, which inquisitors might exploit. See I. Bueno, ‘A Comparison of Interrogation in Two Inquisitorial Courts of the Fourteenth Century’, Annual of Medieval Studies at CEU, 12 (2006), 49–68. 96 Davis, The Inquisition at Albi, 22; H.C. Lea, A History of the Inquisition of the Middle Ages, 3 vols (New York, 1887), ii, 71; Given, Inquisition and Medieval Society, 42, 133, 136. 97 This discussion is informed by Duvernoy’s discussion of the register in ‘Introduction’ to ‘Registre de Geoffroy d’Ablis’, available at http://jean.duvernoy.free.fr/text/pdf/ablis_intro. pdf (accessed 1 July 2017). D’Ablis’s register is a fragment of the original, preserved in BnF, MS lat. 4269. See A. Pales-Gobilliard, ed. and trans., L’inquisiteur Geoffroy d’Ablis et les cathares du comté de Foix (1308–1309) (Paris, 1984).

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and Bernard Gui, who was appointed inquisitor to Toulouse in 1307, the revival was dashed to pieces, leaving such luminaries as Bélibaste to lead the faithful.98 D’Ablis’s methods worked for precisely the same reason they had worked in the mid-thirteenth century: there were heretici with whom the laity could actively interact and support, and his questions bore out their guilt. That support often came in the form of hospitality provided by credentes, sheltering heretics and welcoming Good Men into their homes so that they might practise the consolamentum. Once d’Ablis and Gui eliminated these heretici, there were precious few heretics to support, but their teachings lived on, endangering Christian souls. In a region where heterodox beliefs still proliferated and yet actual Good Men were much fewer and less openly supported, inquisitors like Fournier would have had very little success in rooting out such beliefs should they have focused solely on the old set of questions. Béatrice de Planissoles may have never had dealings with the heretici, but that did not mean she did not hold beliefs inspired by them. Therefore, it seems possible that Fournier’s approach was meant to unearth heresy under these new circumstances. Confessions were longer, allowing people to talk and perhaps stumble into a confession of heresy, essentially giving them enough rope to hang themselves. This was necessary because it was less likely they had actually had any direct dealings with heretics, and, as a result, could have faithfully responded in the negative to questions of support. The focus of the questions instead increasingly turned to matters of theology, frequently ignored in thirteenth-century registers, since people often had difficulty answering such questions. Those who confessed to Fournier were no better prepared to respond to theological questions, and they very often contradicted themselves from one day to the next in their testimony. They confessed to a blend of orthodox and heterodox views that did not fall neatly into any category, and they frequently appeared surprised by the revelation that there were problems with their beliefs. Another new focus prompted by the questions was a suspect’s morality, which might indicate heretical leanings, since the Good Men were accused of having peculiar views on sexual mores. Instead of listing the material support they provided for the very few heretici present in the region, those who appeared before Fournier were compelled to discuss their own beliefs and actions in an attempt to discover the infection of heresy. As opposed to viewing this alteration in inquiry as a result of Fournier’s unique personal interest in the responses of the accused, the length and 98 Barber, The Cathars, 179–80, 196–7.

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content of these confessions arguably resulted from a practical solution to the changing nature of heterodoxy. As the confessions demonstrate, deviance and unorthodox beliefs continued to exist in the region in spite of the disappearance of substantial heretical leadership and, therefore, some kind of innovation was required to uncover such cases in the absence of widespread interaction and support for heretics. In using a different line of questioning, Fournier may have done what Arnold argues – namely, rewritten the discourse on heresy so that people who would not have been of interest to thirteenth-century inquisitors suddenly became of vital interest. However, it seems possible that this was merely the outcome of changing circumstances that required a new, broader approach towards inquiry. Elizabeth Sherman, St Charles Community College

2.

Recovering a Theological Advice by Jacques Fournier 1 Sylvain Piron

Abstract A manuscript from Avignon (Bibliothèque municipale 1087) contains fragments of a long advice produced in 1325 as part of the heresy trial against Peter John Olivi’s Commentary on the Apocalypse. The chapter demonstrates that this document, which also attacks authentic works by Joachim of Fiore, matches the description of a lost tract by Jacques Fournier that features in the inventories of the Avignon pontifical library. Once preserved in the same library, another lost volume, similar to the famous Inquisition register of Fournier, included the investigations of the bishop of Pamiers against Beguins active in his diocese. The doctrinal and inquisitorial fight against this movement therefore constituted a major part of his activities before his election to the Holy See. Keywords: Beguins, heresy, Jacques Fournier, Joachim of Fiore, Peter John Olivi, theological advice

Posterity has been unfair to Jacques Fournier. During past decades, the attention of historians has been focused almost exclusively on the famous inquisitorial register of the bishop of Pamiers, which is, in the end, merely a document of his administrative practices.2 At the same time the scholarly works of the Cistercian theologian have remained utterly forgotten. While little or nothing survives of his oeuvre, it was actually in Avignon during his time both as cardinal and as pope that Fournier wrote his great 1 This chapter was originally published as ‘Un avis retrouvé de Jacques Fournier’, Médiévales, 54 (2008) 113–34, translated by Vicki-Marie Petrick. © Presses Universitaires de Vincennes, Saint-Denis, 2008. 2 Duvernoy, JF.

Bueno, Irene (ed.), Pope Benedict XII (1334–1342). The Guardian of Orthodoxy. Amsterdam University Press, 2018 doi: 10.5117/9789462986770_ch02

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theological opus.3 This monumental commentary on the Gospel of Matthew, magnificently preserved in six volumes in the papal library, has, however, rarely found a voice. It was partially published, and even then only by accident, by a Dominican who believed that he was editing the works of his fellow friar, Benedict XI (1303–1304). 4 A second aspect of Fournier’s intellectual production is linked to his position as theological advisor to John XXII (1316–1334) during the most important doctrinal trials of the years 1325–1333.5 Of this activity, which is both cause and effect of his dazzling ascent to the papal Curia in this period, only the dossier of his arbitrations on the debate concerning the Beatific Vision has been preserved, although it remains for the most part unpublished.6 In what follows I add to this list a new document identifying one of his earliest theological assessments – an opinion or piece of advice given on the occasion of the last phase of the trial against the Commentary on the Apocalypse by the Franciscan theologian Peter John Olivi.7 Started in 1318 following the burning of four Spiritual Franciscans for heresy and then remaining in abeyance for several years, this trial was set in motion once again sometime after November 1324 when John XXII himself proceeded with a reading of the incriminating text and submitted four (or rather five) new articles for examination by a handful of experts. We know the answers given by the bishop of Florence, Francesco Silvestri, and by the Franciscan lawyer Bonagrazia of Bergamo. These texts also respond to the final defence of Olivi’s orthodoxy given by Ubertino of Casale on the subject of these same articles.8 To these documents one should add an anonymous 3 W.J. Courtenay, ‘Reflections on Vat. lat. 1086 and Prosper of Reggio Emilia, O.E.S.A’, in Theological Quodlibeta in the Middle Ages: the fourteenth century, ed. C. Schabel (Leiden, 2007), 345–8, at 354–5, identifies questions that might have been disputed in Paris by Fournier while bachelor in theology, c.1310–14. See also R.E. Lerner, ‘A Note on the University Career of Jacques Fournier, O. Cist, later Pope Benedict XII’, Analecta cisterciensia, 30 (1974), 66–9. 4 Benedicti papae Undecimi, in Evangelium D. Matthaei absolutissima commentaria, ed. G. Lazari (Venice, 1603). On this work, see A. Maier, ‘Der Kommentar Benedikts XII. zum MatthaeusEvangelium’, in Maier, Ausgehendes, iii, 591–600; and Bueno, Defining Heresy, 151–246. 5 Koch, ‘Der Kardinal Jacques Fournier’, ii, 368–86. 6 Only the prologues have been published, by A. Maier, ‘Zwei Proemien Benedikts XII’, in Maier, Ausgehendes, iii, 447–79. See also C. Trottmann, ‘Deux interprétations contradictoires de saint Bernard: les sermons de Jean XXII sur la vision béatifique et les traités inédits du cardinal Jacques Fournier’, MEFRM, 105 (1993), 327–79. 7 For a full survey of these trials, see most recently Piron, ‘Censures et condamnation de Pierre de Jean Olivi: enquête dans les marges du Vatican’, MEFRM, 118 (2006), 313–73. 8 On these documents, see E. Pásztor, ‘Le polemiche sulla Lectura super Apocalypsim di Pietro di Giovanni Olivi fino alla sua condanna’, Bulletino dell’Istituto Storico Italiano per il Medioevo, 70 (1958), 365–424; D. Burr, Olivi’s Peaceable Kingdom: a reading of the Apocalypse Commentary

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opinion contained in a manuscript in the municipal library of Avignon, long since filed away and forgotten until now.9 Though this text too is only partial, it constitutes by far the deepest discussion of Olivi’s theses in this last phase of the trial, and this contribution probably played a major role in the preparation of the sentence pronounced in February 1326. It is this work that should be attributed to Jacques Fournier.10

Description of the Text Codex 1087, formerly held by the library of the Celestines of Avignon, is a volume of diverse documents compiled at a later date than 1326. The first items are of a legal or political nature. The anonymous opinion which occupies the last quires of the volume is preceded by the Tractatus de Antichristo by the Dominican Jean Quidort, the two documents having been copied in the second half of the fourteenth century by different hands. The expert who collected these texts had thus associated two of the most precise criticisms of Joachite expectations of an apocalyptic crisis that would precede the arrival of a Third Age of the Church. The catalogue, drawn up by L.-H. Labande, indicates the presence, in the last part of the codex, of two distinct texts which targeted, for different motives, the Lectura super Apocalipsim: a ‘Treaty Against the Doctrine of the Abbot Joachim and Peter of John Olivi, as Expressed in their Commentaries on the Apocalypse’ in folios 220r–242r, followed by a ‘Treatise Addressed to the Pope on the Report of Inquisitors Charged by John XXII to Examine the Doctrine’ of this same Olivi, in folios 242v–275r.11 As a matter of fact, the two treatises (Philadelphia, 1993), 221–39; S. Piron, ‘Bonagrazia de Bergame, auteur des Allegationes sur les articles extraits par Jean XXII de la Lectura super Apocalipsim d’Olivi’, in Revirescunt chartae, codices, documenta, textus: miscelleana investigationum medioevalium in honorem Caesaris Cenci OFM collecta, ed. A. Cacciotti and P. Sella, 2 vols (Rome, 2002), ii, 1065–87. 9 The Avignon manuscript was probably the starting point for an eighteenth-century scholar of Carpentras, Joseph-François Bonnet de Saint-Bonnet, in writing in his unpublished Mémoires historiques a ‘Note sur Pierre-Jean Olive, religieux accusé d’hérésie’, Carpentras, Bibliothèque municipale, MS 1211, 232–5 (however, I have not consulted this manuscript). 10 Avignon, Bibliothèque municipale, MS 1087, fols 220–75v, described in Catalogue général des manuscrits des bibliothèques publiques de France, Départements, t. XXVII, Avignon, ed. L.-H. Labande, 3 vols (Paris, 1894–1901), i, 502–4. I am grateful to Robert Lerner for sharing his impressions concerning this text, which he has studied. What I say here can scarcely add to what he himself would have written. The manuscript was examined on microfiches at the Institut de recherche et d’histoire des textes, hence the absence of any codicological observation. 11 Labande, Catalogue général, i, 502–4.

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form two parts of the same work, which has been transmitted to us only in an incomplete version. I shall present these in sequence before seeking to identify the author.

First Part of the Opinion: On the Spiritual Intelligence of the Third Age The first text begins abruptly in the middle of a sentence which belongs to the tenth chapter of Olivi’s Lectura super Apocalipsim.12 The fact that these words are presented as the incipit of the text and preceded by a pilcrow means that the copyist had an acephelous text before him which had been deprived of one or more of its initial folios. This citation itself is followed by a juxtaposition of two extracts from the nineteenth chapter of the Lectura describing the beginnings of the Third Age following the destruction of Babylon. We must then suppose that a longer chain of citations from the same work occupied the missing first pages, and that it was itself preceded by a general exposition of the question submitted for examination. These lost folios would also have included some excerpts from Joachim of Fiore as well as a justification of the parallel drawn between the two theologians’ interpretations of the Apocalypse. Indeed, the first comment, following the citations from Olivi, reveals a degree of indecision as to the timing of the Sixth and Seventh Ages of the Church when a new infusion of the Holy Spirit was to take place ‘of which mention is made in the positions of Joachim and Peter John cited above’.13 This aside then allows the author to present in turn the contradictory opinions of the two authors, regarding the new dating or chronology of the Seven Ages of the Church, by using a new series of extracts from their respective commentaries on the Apocalypse. A little further on and we succeed in understanding the precise goal of this examination. It is not the issue here, writes the author of the opinion, to reply to a question concerning the growth of spiritual intelligence at the beginning of the Sixth Age of the Church – one which corresponds 12 Peter John Olivi, Lectura super Apocalipsim, ed. W. Lewis (Saint Bonaventure NY, 2105), 452. The extract in question ought to begin with these words: ‘Sciendum etiam quod sicut sanctissimus pater noster Franciscus est post Christum et sub Christo primus et principalis fundator et initiator et exemplator sexti status.’ The Avignon manuscript begins in the middle of the subsequent phrase. 13 Avignon, BM, MS 1087, fol. 220rb: ‘In qua vero parte temporis tertii temporis mundi sexti et septimi ecclesie iterum spiritus sanctus infudatur, illa infusione de qua fit mentio in supradictis posicionibus Joachim et Petris Johannis incertum est.’

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literally to the second of the articles extracted by John XXII.14 The author of this opinion is not satisfied with responding to the question as posed. Quite intelligently, he has chosen to compare Olivi’s positions with those of the writer who most inspired him. This allows him, in the first part of his response, to underline discrepancies in their chronologies of future times. For Joachim, the Third Age had to begin with St Benedict while, for the friar minor, it is St Francis who offers the first point of reference. Twice, the author of the opinion insists that these predictions have already been given the lie by the facts, hence revealing the date at which he writes. According to Joachim’s calculations, the Third Age ought to have begun eight centuries from St Benedict’s day, 139 years from the meeting between Joachim and Urban III, or 125 years from the fated year of 1200, all three dates being in fact alternatively mentioned by Joachim.15 In the same way, ‘from the time of St Francis whose Rule was recognized and “confirmed” in 1223, one hundred and two years have since passed’.16 On the same lines, the author cites a passage from a commentary on Daniel that he attributes to Olivi but is in reality the work of his disciple, Barthélemy Sicard.17 This text, well known to Spirituals and Beguins, was, to my knowledge, never used by their adversaries; nor has it been attributed to their ‘holy father’. Nor is it mentioned either by Raymond of Fronsac or by Bonagrazia of Bergamo, who were successively procurators of the Franciscan order and thereby in the first rank of the fight against the dissidence in Languedoc. Its use, therefore, denotes a solid knowledge of Spiritual Franciscan currents in the Midi. Writing his commentary in the first decade of the fourteenth century, Barthélemy was advancing an explicit calculation of the date at which the Antichrist would be destroyed. In counting as years the 1290 days mentioned in the tenth chapter of the Book of Daniel, and in starting from the Passion of Christ, we arrive 14 Ibid., fol. 221rb: ‘Sed cum in hac questione non queratur nisi an in tertio tempore huius vite inchoandi in sexto statu ecclesie non solum simplici intelligentia sed et palpativa et gustativa experiencia videatur omnis sapiencia verbi dei incarnati ac potentia deo patris, quia Christus promisit quod cum venit illud spiritus veritatis docebit vos omnem veritatem.’ 15 Ibid., fol. 221rb: ‘et sic secundum eum [Joachim] iam durasset tertium tempus vel octingentos annos si incepit tempore sancti Benedicti, vel per centum .xxxix. annos si incepit tempore quo ipse venit ad Urbanum papam .iii., vel iam sunt .cxxv. anni si incepit secundum eundem mcc.º anno’. See G.L. Potestà, Il tempo dell’Apocalisse: vita di Gioacchino da Fiore (Bari, 2004). 16 Avignon, BM, MS 1087, fol. 221va: ‘tempore sancti Francisci cuius regula canonizata fuit sub anno domini mºccºxxiiiº, a quo tempore jam effluxerunt centum et duo anni’. 17 Cf. S. Piron, ‘La critique de l’Église chez les Spirituels languedociens’, in L’anticléricalisme en France méridionale, milieu XIIe–début XIVe siècle, CF, 38 (2003), 77–109, at 89 for the citation, from Avignon, BM, MS 1087, fols 221va–vb.

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at the year of the Incarnation 1324 when the Great Tribulation ought to end. It was surely with this deadline in mind that the Beguin heresiarch, Prous Boneta, in her confession given before the inquisition during the summer of 1325, placed the end of the Roman Church at Christmas 1323, associating this event with the bull Cum inter nonnullos, understood as equivalent to the final condemnation of the Lectura super Apocalipsim.18 The author of the opinion does not hesitate to point out that the prediction is belied by the facts since he is writing in the year of the Incarnation 1325 and that, far from being destroyed, the Roman Church is at the height of its dignity.19 The inanity of Joachim’s and Peter’s announcements suffices to demonstrate that they are both false prophets.20 The following pages refute their presumption to predict future times, relying principally on numerous citations from St Augustine. While the manuscript does not make explicit the structure of the text, the next to be examined is another error committed by the two authors in referring to the Roman Church as Babylon which must be destroyed before the death of the Antichrist.21 Augustine is once more the principal authority called upon to show that Jerusalem and Babylon represent the two cities of the saved and the damned which will remain intertwined until the end of time. The temporal division of the history of the Church into seven periods is itself put into question since 18 W.H. May, ‘The Confession of Prous Boneta, Heretic and Heresiarch’, in Essays in Medieval Life and Thought Presented in Honor of A.P. Evans, ed. J.H. Mundy, R.W. Emery, and B.N. Nelson (New York, 1955), 11–12: ‘quando scriptura fratris Petri Joannis fuit condempnata […] de quo tempore erunt duo anni in instanti festo nativitatis Domini nunc vero transacto’. See L.A. Burnham, ‘The Visionary Authority of Na Prous Boneta’, in Pierre de Jean Olivi (1248–1298): pensée scolastique, dissidence spirituelle et société, ed. A. Boureau and S. Piron (Paris, 1999), 319–40; and L.A. Burnham, So Great a Light, So Great a Smoke: the Beguin heretics of Languedoc (Ithaca NY, 2008). 19 Avignon, BM, MS 1087, fols 221vb–222ra: ‘Transactum etiam sit tempus quo secundum P. Jo. antichristus verus debuisset complevisse suum cursum cum nunc computetur annus incarnationis domini MCCCXXV, et tamen secundum eum post destructionem babilonie, idest ecclesie carnalis, et ante morte antichristi dicta infusio spiritus sancti esse debebat, que tamen ut constat facta non est, cum nec sit destructa ecclesia romana quam ipse ecclesiam carnalem vocat, ymo est in culmine sue dignitatis.’ 20 Ibid., fol. 222rb: ‘Cum igitur isti duo, scilicet Joachim et Petrus Johannis, inter se multum discordant in supradictis, eventus etiam rerum manifeste hostendat eos falsum dixisse, cum non eveniret illud quod predixerunt in tempore vel circa tempus per eos prefixum, clare est eos non esse prophetas domini sed prophetas erroris.’ 21 Ibid., fol. 225ra: ‘Quod vero dicunt Babiloniam id est carnalem romanam ecclesiam ante mortem antichristi destruendum in f ine secundi status et in principio tercii, non solum est falsum sed etiam est blasffemum ac hereticum.’ The demonstration runs to fol. 229va.

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the only acceptable distinction is that which recognizes a time before the law, another under the law, and a third under grace which is to last from the incarnation of Christ until the Last Judgment, without allowing for any further subdivisions. These initial criticisms only make up a preamble to the examination of the question asked. Their end is to recall that the premises of the suspect affirmation are themselves false. In any case, within the hypothesis that they should be acceptable,22 the interrogation bears on the supposed growth of spiritual intelligence which should come about at that moment as Christ had allegedly promised in John 16: 13 (Cum venerit ille spiritus…). These two points are treated separately. First, the author questions Olivi’s unusual turn of phrase which speaks of a ‘gustatory and tangible experience’ (gustativa et palpativa experiencia): these words seem to him to mean, metaphorically, an intellectual knowledge of God inspired by images used in Psalm 33: 9 and in Jeremiah 15: 16 or 20: 9 in which the words of the Lord are described as ‘tasted’ and ‘touched’.23 The expression might be understood in several ways. Since the quotation under discussion continues that such an experience would make known ‘all the wisdom of the Logos incarnate and the power of God the Father’, it must necessarily be a full and perfect knowledge of God, occupying the entire human intellect, by which only God is seen in all creatures.24 Unfolding the consequences of such a beatific vision of earthly life one after the other, the author shows that the experience would be such as to place humans in a state of continuous raptus. They might thus do without the Church and its sacraments, which are necessary only insofar as God is not seen but only believed through faith. This beatifying vision would render its beneficiaries incapable of committing the least sin (inpeccabilis). To this opinion one might then oppose the bull Ad nostrum qui desideranter promulgated during the Council of Vienne to condemn the members of a supposed sect of the Free Spirit who allegedly, through a divinization in this life, would be placed above the condition of the faithful.25 Such a comparison 22 Ibid., fol. 229va: ‘Subpositis tamen omnibus supradictis falsis tanquam si vera essent, queritur an catholice possit dici.’ 23 Ibid., fol. 229va–vb: ‘Sed prius quia dubium est quid significare voluit adinventor istorum verborum “non solum simplici intelligentia sed et gustativa et palpativa experiencia”.’ 24 Ibid., fol. 230vb: ‘Tertius intellectus dictorum verborum potest esse quod in dicto tercio statu detur cognitio dei hominibus. […] sic existens in tali cognitione videat omnem veritatem sapiencie verbi dei incarnati et omnem potenciam dei patris, falsum intellectum habuerit ac etiam hereticum quia in vita presenti non sic deus videbitur sed in vita futura.’ 25 Ibid., fol. 233va: ‘Unde cum ex ista opinione istorum sequatur necessario, ut videtur, quod homines in vita presenti existentes sint immortales et comprehensores, nulla fide vel sacramentis fidei indigentes, et sine peccato et inpecabiles effecti, quorum quolibet est heresis dampnata in

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between the Beguins of the Rhineland and those of southeastern France has not previously been made in the documents known to us up to now. In 1325, the radical dissidence of the group led by Prous Boneta had made this particularly pertinent. This new knowledge, the author adds, might also be taken in the sense that Joachim intended, as a clarification of all figures and obscurities of Holy Writ. This perspective receives in turn a long refutation that this time bears on the very principle of a growth of spiritual intelligence in the course of history as a result of which Christ’s message might be better understood than by the Apostles.26 The prediction of the coming of the Paraclete made in the sixteenth chapter of the Gospel of John is discussed in this framework. For the author, this prediction has been entirely accomplished with the Pentecost. It would be mad, heretical, and presumptuous to claim to have understood what the Apostles themselves were not capable of understanding.27 The opinion then attempts to respond to the arguments presented in order to ‘excuse’ the words of Olivi. We find here, in an abbreviated form, the same ‘excuses’ to which Bonagrazia of Bergamo replied in the Allegationes.28 Ubertino of Casale was surely the only person present at the Curia in 1325 who could have had the courage still to defend the Lectura super Apocalipsim. He did so in seeking once more to minimize the importance of some of its propositions: the new infusion of the Holy Spirit was to be understood as ‘one of the multiple effects of God during the approach of the Last Days’. It is merely a kind of special grace (gratis data), and not a grace giving its beneficiaries any superiority whatsoever over saints of past centuries in the order of charity. As for the new ‘tangible’ knowledge of divine secrets, it only concerns the Beatific Vision of the blessed which constitutes the Seventh Age of the Church and which, united to the Sixth, constitutes the Third Age of the history of creation. The reply has no difficulty in showing that the new spiritual intelligence already concerns the Sixth Age and that concilio Viennensi per dominum Clementem papam Vm in Sexto libro, de hereticis, Ad nostrum qui desideranter.’ The first, fourth, and eighth articles are pointed out more precisely, bearing on the impeccability and the inutility of the sacraments. On the bull and its context, see R.E. Lerner, The Heresy of the Free Spirit in the Late Middle Ages (Berkeley CA, 1972). 26 Avignon, BM, MS 1087, fols 235vb–239ra, using two long quotations from Joachim’s Concordia Novi ac Veteris Testamenti, ii.20 and 37, and one from the prologue of Olivi’s Lectura super Apocalipsim. 27 Avignon, BM, MS 1087, fols 237va–239ra. 28 Ibid., fol. 239ra: ‘Nec videntur valere illa que aliqui dicunt ad excusandum predicta verba predicti Petri Johannis.’ Cf. Bonagrazia of Bergamo, Allegationes, BnF, MS lat. 4190, fols 47r–48r.

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Joachim and Olivi ‘place humans of the Third Age above the Apostles’ with regard to the clarity of their knowledge of God.29

Second Part of the Opinion: On the Articles of the Masters The last document contained in the manuscript described in Labande’s catalogue as a separate work is closely related to the preceding one. Copied by the same hand, it consists of a new examination of the excerpted articles of the Lectura led by the same author.30 This text begins with a preface addressed to the pope, recalling the role that the latter played as defender of the faith. It then mentions the recent appearance of an erroneous doctrine which has been reproved by numerous doctors. Here the author makes an allusion to the Littera magistrorum produced in 1319 by a committee composed of eight masters in theology.31 Responding to a request by the pope and writing under his corrections, the author announces that he will firstly present certain articles reputedly suspect by the masters before revealing his own judgment, and then respond to the excuses which claim that the ‘postil’ contains nothing heretical.32 This brief introduction, therefore, does not concern the articles chosen by the pope but only those of the Littera magistrorum. It does not constitute a general preface to the opinion rendered to John XXII but merely a simple presentation of its second part. Indeed, while a rubric announces an articulus primus, it does not introduce a discussion of the first article examined by Bonagrazia and Francesco Silvestri but of the first article of the Littera magistrorum. Yet, the passages from the prologue of the Lectura quoted here also include the lines retained by the masters as their second article.33 The core of the refutation that follows concentrates on the last passage, in which Olivi discusses the 29 Avignon, BM, MS 1087, fol. 241va–vb: ‘Nec solum dicti P. Io. et Ioa. preferunt homines tertii status in scientia apostolis qualitercumque, set etiam quantum ad obiecta et quantum ad modum sciendi.’ 30 See below for an examination of cross-references of the different parts. 31 Avignon, BM, MS 1087, fol. 242va: ‘que doctrina per multos doctores in teologia inventa est et adiudicata erronea, temeraria, scismatica, divinatoria ac in multis ecclesie scandalosa.’ 32 Ibid., fol. 242vb: ‘ponendo primo quemlibet de articulis reputatis suspectos per dictos magistros ac etiam verba dictorum magistrorum, ac deinde illud quod michi de dictis articulis videbitur, ac postea dicere aliquid de excusationibus quas aliqui pretendunt pro verbis dicte postille ut heretica vel erronea non dicantur.’ 33 The citations cover Lectura super Apocalipsim, ed. W. Lewis, 3–4 (§ 8–9), 5–6 (§ 17), 8–11 (§ 32–45), while the f irst article of the Littera was limited to § 25–38 and the second to the beginning of § 17.

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‘notable preeminence’ of the Sixth Age of the Church over the first five, and presents it as ‘the beginning of a new century leaving behind, in a way, the preceding century’ which would bring about the return of the First Age of the Church, as though its history formed a circle.34 Once again, each of the assertions contained in the citation is thoroughly dissected, one after the other. The preeminence of the Sixth Age would imply, notably, its superiority not only to that of the Apostles but also to that of Christ, since the latter cannot be excluded from the First Age of the Church of which he is the founder.35 The theme of an ‘evacuation of the old century’, taken literally, might mean that the Gospel and the sacraments of the New Covenant are to be abandoned before the end of time. The author of the opinion suggests that Olivi found his inspiration in passages of Joachim’s Concordia reproduced here at length, but he does not allude to the condemnation, on the same issue, of Gerard of Borgo San Donnino’s eternal Gospel.36 To understand ‘the old century’ as ‘the obsolescence of sin’ is to fall into the error of the Pelagians.37 The ‘evacuation’ might yet be understood as a return to the poverty of the primitive Church which allegedly had but a ‘simple de facto usage’ of material goods.38 Surprisingly, the author does not rely on the bull Cum inter nonnullos in order to denounce this reference to the poverty of Christ and the Apostles as does Bonagrazia in the Allegationes.39 Instead, he bases himself on exegetical arguments to show that such a return to 34 Avignon, BM, MS 1087, fol. 244rb: ‘Quod vero postea dicit, sciendum est quare sextus status semper describitur ut notabiliter preeminens quinque primis et sicut finis priorum et tanquam initium novi seculi evacuans quoddam vetus seculum, sicut status Christi evacuavit Vetus Testamentum et vetustatem humani generis; unde et quasi circulariter sic iungitur primo tempori Christi ac si tota ecclesia sit una spera.’ 35 Ibid., fol. 244va: ‘Sequitur quod sextus status ecclesie notabiliter preemineat non solum statui apostolorum set etiam statui Christi quia Christus fundator ecclesie ac etiam fundamentum non potest excludi a primo statui fundationis ecclesie.’ 36 Ibid., fol. 245va: ‘Et cum postea subdit quod est “inicium novi seculi evacuans quoddam vetus seculum”, clare vult dicere quod in sexti statu, ad minus circa finem dicti status quod ipse vocat septem partem ipsius sexti status, evacuabitur status evangelii vel novi testamenti, sicut evacuatum fuit vetus testamentum et status populi veteris testamenti post passionem Christi.’ The citations from Joachim are from Concordia, v, dist. 1, ch. 22, 27–28. 37 Avignon, BM, MS 1087, fol. 247va: ‘Et si hoc modo intelligant fieri renovationem in dicto sexto statu seculi, vel hominum, quod in hominibus nullum fit peccatum per quod homines sunt vetusti vetustate peccati, tunc est error clarus et manifestus Pelagii.’ 38 Ibid., fol. 248rb: ‘posset intelligi dicta innovatio ecclesie in sexto statu et vetustatis evacuatio quod ecclesia reduceretur ad statum in quo nullus de ecclesia aliquid haberet in proprio vel in communi nisi solum modo simplicem usum facti.’ The phrase simplex usus facti is obviously a reference to Exiit qui seminat. 39 Bonagrazia, Allegationes, fol. 44r, with reference to Quia quorumdam mentes.

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primitive poverty, either with regard to the number of Apostles or to their way of life, is borne out nowhere in Scripture. 40 The discussion of the following theme, the circular return of the Sixth to the First Age of the Church, allows the author to further his critique. The Franciscan order only constitutes a small part of the Christian people, and its particularity with regard to poverty does not render its members more virtuous than the martyrs, confessors, and doctors of times past. Each religious order is in its own way in conformity with Christ, but none in entirety, and the Friars Minor can claim neither exclusivity nor superiority in this respect. 41 The model for the Church’s history cannot be a circle but a straight line which admits no curve. The very idea of a ‘renewal of the evangelical life’ which would have begun with St Francis is rejected. The evangelical life, since its foundation, has not grown older; rather, it has been pursued constantly through its followers since the founding of the Church. 42 It would be senseless to affirm that whoever professes the Rule of St Francis better imitates Christ than those saints most venerated by the Church.43 The ‘renewal’ spoken of by St Paul in the Letter to the Ephesians in calling to ‘put off the old man’ in no way concerns the abdication of riches or any other monastic vow, but ‘the justice and holiness that comes from the truth’ and the absence of all vice. 44 It is principally accomplished by 40 Avignon BM, MS 1087, fol. 248rb: ‘Hoc autem divinare est, cum ex nulla scriptura hoc possit haberi’; fol. 248vb: ‘Et sic, cum non probetur ex scriptura quod ecclesie ultimo tempore reduci debeat ad statum in quo fuit tempore apostolorum quantum ad numerum personarum nec quantum ad nichil omnino habere in speciali vel communi vel quantum ad habere solum in communi.’ 41 Ibid., fol. 249rb: ‘Non est etiam convenienter dictum quod propter unam modicam partem populi christiani que beatum Franciscum in abdicatione proprietatis sequta est, status populus christiani sit sic mutatus quod de linea recta flexus fuerit ad lineam circularem et quod omnes illi qui professionem secundum regulam beati Francisci votum faciunt paupertatis sint magis Christo conformes quam martires’; fol. 249va: ‘quelibet religio aliquo modo Christo assimilatur et tamen nulla est que in omnibus assimiletur’. 42 Ibid., fol. 250vb: ‘Vita enim evangelica cum a fundatione ecclesie usque ad finem in aliquibus fidelibus perseveret […] non fuit inveterata ut renovatione indigeret.’ 43 Ibid., fols 250vb–251ra: ‘Dicere etiam quod in sexto statu renovata est evangelica vita vel solum vel maxime, est blasfemum ac etiam hereticum […] nec aliquis ita inveniretur amens qui audet dicere quod quicumque esset professor regule sancti Francisci magis esset imitator Christi et in eo magis esset vita Christi reformata quam in sanctis Laurencio, Vincencio, Martino, Nicholao, Benedicto, Antonio et in aliis viris qui fuerunt homines maxime sanctitatis.’ 44 Ibid., fol. 251ra: ‘Renovationem autem in modo vivendi secundum vitam Christi non posuit apostolus in expropriatione omnis dominii rei temporalis vel in aliis votis religiosorum principialiter consistere, set in iusticia et sanctitate veritatis et carentia viciorum secundum quod deducit ad Effe. .iiii. (Eph. 4: 22).’

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the practice of virtue and the avoidance of sin and not by means of a vow.45 In the same way, the idea that the Church should be rebuilt is meaningless since it has never been destroyed. 46 And nothing in Scripture suggests that during the persecutions of the Antichrist it should be reduced to as restricted a number of followers as that of the primitive Church. 47 As for placing the future militia of Christ under the sign of St Francis, in the name of the stigmata which allegedly ‘signed him with the sign of the Christ’, this thesis would imply that all the elect called upon to struggle against the Antichrist should be instructed by the Friars Minor to the exclusion of any other religious order.48 The excuses presented by Ubertino – protesting that Olivi wanted to preserve the unity of the universal Roman Church and not posit two successive churches, or that the expression ‘carnal Church’ does not designate the Roman Church but only the cohort of the reproved – give occasion to repeat the preceding criticism. 49 Following this article, a transitional paragraph announces the next section. The theme of superiority of those last two Ages of the Church is further argued in the seventh notabile of the Lectura’s prologue, a section whose very announcement in the first pages of the prologue had formed the subject of the second article of the Littera magistrorum. The extract pointed out in the fourth article was also taken from this notabile. Since the subject matter of the second and third articles has been exhausted, the discussion now moves to this fourth article. To introduce it, the seventh notabile is reproduced in its entirety.50 Without entering into all the details of these last folios, which resume and deepen the themes addressed in the preceding pages, we can at least retain an interesting argument on method. 45 Ibid., fol. 251va: ‘Cum ergo principaliter homo renovetur in vita Christi per vitationem peccatorum et opera virtutum principalium magis quam per vota.’ 46 Ibid., fol. 252ra: ‘Et quod addunt quod iste sextus status est “iterate reedificacionis ecclesie simul prime” […] Nam ecclesia Christi nunquam cadet usque ad finem seculi.’ 47 Ibid., fol. 252vb: ‘Nulla etiam scripture autentica invenitur que dicat quod ecclesia in sexto statu vel tempore antichristi aut post ipsum debeat reduci ad tantam paucitatem personarum sicut fuit in ecclesia primitiva Christi.’ 48 Ibid., fol. 254vb: ‘Quod etiam addunt quod “prefatus angelus, idest sanctus Franciscus Christi signo signatus per suos signabit futuram miliciam Christi”, temerarium est omnino ac divinatorium et nullam rationem habens, quia tunc omnes electi qui contra antichristum pugnaturi sunt per homines ordinis sancti Francisci ad fidem et iusticiam instruerentur et non per alios post destructionem ecclesie carnalis ante pugnam ecclesie contra antichristum.’ 49 Ibid., fol. 255ra: ‘Et quod aliqui dicunt ad excusandum dictum fratris Petrum Jo. quod ipse non ponit duas ecclesias successive set solum unam universalem ecclesiam seu romanam’; fol. 258ra: ‘Et quod dicunt quod ecclesiam vocat carnalem non quidem romanam vel catolicam set catervam vel ecclesiam reproborum’. 50 Ibid., fol. 259va.

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The author reproaches Olivi and Joachim, still criticized as one, for drawing their arguments from ‘mystical theology’ which has ‘no demonstrative value’ (argumentabilis non est). This type of method has led them to establish parallels between all the occurrences of the number six that they found in Scripture with the Six Ages of the Church without taking into account either the literal meaning or the specific context of these different ‘sixes’.51

Overall Structure of the Opinion These surviving fragments allow us to draw out the overall structure of the larger work, relying on several internal cross-references. The first document is described as a ‘question’.52 It contains within itself a reference to the ‘preceding question’ and to what will be said further on.53 This designation corresponds to the form of consultation requested by John XXII when interrogating solicited experts on the orthodoxy of brief passages of the Lectura that he had himself flagged.54 The first text present in the Avignon manuscript corresponds to the second question of this consultation. The two following texts are themselves designated as ‘articles’ and their numbering, as we have seen, corresponds to that of the Littera magistrorum. The first article contains references to the first and second question.55 The treatment of the fourth article refers to the preceding one and to the second question.56 The only certainty that these indications provide concerns the existence of a first question, which would correspond to the first article chosen by John XXII. There the author of the opinion would have shown, in particular, that St Paul had exercised property rights over temporal goods.57 The reason why the question of the poverty of Christ and the Apostles is not much 51 Ibid., fol. 269vb: ‘ex mistica teologia voluerunt trahere argumentum que tamen argumentabilis non est […] volunt adaptare quasi omnes sex sacre scripture ad sextum tempus ecclesie quem finxerunt, cum non possent invenire in scriptura claras probationes ad illud quod ponere de suo capite intendebant.’ 52 Ibid., fol. 242rb: ‘de ista questione’. 53 Ibid., fol. 236rb: ‘precedenti questione’. 54 Burr, Olivi’s Peaceable Kingdom, 223–4, gives in English translation the form that the four questions identified up to here should take. 55 Avignon, BM, MS 1087, fol. 247va: ‘satis deductum fuit in secunda questione’; fol. 255vb: ‘sicut patet ex prima et secunda questionibus et hiis etiam que dicta sunt circa articulum istum’. 56 Ibid., fol. 265vb: ‘et inductum fuit in articulo precedenti’; fol. 266rb: ‘de hac materia multa dicta sunt tam in secunda questione quam in precedenti articulo’. 57 Ibid., fol. 251va: ‘Et tamen, ut hostensum fuit in prima questione ius et dominium in aliquibus rebus temporalibus habuit Paulus.’

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debated in the second question is that it must have been discussed at length in the first question. On the other hand, nothing allows us to ascertain whether the two following questions to which Francesco Silvestri responded were also treated by the author of the opinion. It is equally impossible to know if he pursued his commentary of the articles in the Littera magistrorum beyond the fourth. The extracts selected in the Avignon manuscript are primarily concerned with the notion of a spiritual progress in the Third Age. The proximity of Jean Quidort’s De antichristo in the same volume might lead us to think that this selection was intentional, and guided by a specific interest for a rebuttal of Joachite eschatology. It is therefore probable that the three other questions raised by the pope were neglected on purpose. As fragmentary as it is, this long anonymous opinion provides further important information regarding the proceedings of this doctrinal trial. During the second consultation on the Lectura super Apocalipsim in 1325, John XXII did not simply substitute the first report of 1319 with the result of his own reading. Historians have often been surprised to remark that the pope chose apparently minor points while neglecting the more shocking assertions that had been strongly pointed out by the eight masters.58 His own intervention in no way invalidated the first report, but rather sought to complement it. For obvious reasons, the experts first presented their opinions on the new questions brought forth by the pope. Still, both Bonagrazia of Bergamo (according to what he declares at the beginning of his Allegationes)59 and the anonymous author of the Avignon manuscript also undertook a discussion of, at least, certain articles of the Littera. While this result does clarify the last phase of the proceedings, it renders even more dubious any conjecture as to the content of the final sentence pronounced in February of 1326, the text of which has not survived.

Identification of the Author: Jacques Fournier? Although it was only partially transmitted, this anonymous opinion is considerably longer than the two other known reports and treats the given 58 Cf. Burr, Olivi’s Peaceable Kingdom, 224. 59 The fact is announced in the introduction, but the corresponding passages have not been preserved. Cf. Bonagrazia, Allegationes, fol. 40r: ‘Secundo ostendam quos articulos reputo hereticos et quare reputo eos hereticos. Et premictam illos quos vestra sanctitas extraxit de postilla, quam frater Petrus Johannis composuit super Apocalipsim. Postea ponam aliquos articulos qui per duodecim magistros in sacra pagina, quibus sanctitas vestra commisit, sunt heretici reputati.’

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subjects with a much greater breadth of vision. It is worth trying to identify its author, since there are but few candidates among the ranks. Up to now only two opinions are attested as having been given to the pope on this occasion, and neither has yet been located. As Patrick Nold has shown, a response by Bertrand de la Tour ‘against certain arguments which seem to excuse all the heresy of the doctrine of Peter John’, at one time contained in a manuscript in Assisi and now lost, must not be associated with the debates of 1310–1311 as was once thought. The remark should rather be linked to this last phase of the proceedings against the Lectura.60 In point of fact, the turn of phrase used here is quite close to that used by Bonagrazia of Bergamo and the anonymous writer to designate Ubertino’s ‘excuses’. This means that Bertrand, who had already given his opinion on the Lectura as a member of the commission in 1319, was only required by John XXII to respond to this last defence. He cannot, therefore, be the author of the opinion of the Avignon manuscript which takes into consideration the two series of extracts. As for Bonagrazia’s Allegationes, they allude to an intervention by the cardinal of Santa Sabina, Guillaume de Peyre Godin, but this refers without doubt to his role as delegate judge in Ubertino’s 1324 trial. There remains then only one serious candidate, the very successor to John XXII. In his article devoted to the theological opinions given by Jacques Fournier, Josef Koch has put to use the fragments of these lost documents cited by later authors, notably by the Augustinian theologian Johannes Hiltalingen of Basel.61 As Damasus Trapp has remarked, one of the ‘modern’ particularities of Hiltalingen is the care that he takes in quoting his sources with exactitude.62 The third of his Responsiones, defended while he was a bachelor studying in Paris in 1368, treats the meritorious nature of voluntary poverty. It is on this subject that he uses the opinions given by Benedict XII against Michael of Cesena and against Olivi. The citations of the latter text concern the first article of the consultation, and thus do not allow for a direct confrontation with the Avignon manuscript in which this question is missing. In a first allusion, Hiltalingen quotes approvingly the arguments advanced by Jacques Fournier in the third chapter of this first question showing that, according to the Gospel and canon law, it is permissible for 60 P. Nold, ‘Bertrand de la Tour, O.Min: life and works’, Archivum Franciscanum Historicum, 94 (2001), 280–1. The lost document was entitled Contra quaedam quae videntur excusare ab omni haeresi doctrinam Petri Iohannis. 61 Koch, ‘Der Kardinal Jacques Fournier’. 62 D. Trapp, ‘Hiltalinger’s Augustinian Quotations’, Augustiniana, 4 (1954), 412–49.

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bishops to own property.63 On the other hand, further on, the authority of Benedict XII is treated with less respect. The second corollary drawn by the theologian from Basel is inspired by that formulation of the first article excerpted from the Lectura. If the pontificate of Christ has first been granted through Peter to those living evangelical lives, purified by poverty, it does not seem to follow, formally speaking, that the pope himself should now be obliged to practise poverty.64 Without knowing Olivi’s position other than through Jacques Fournier’s critique, Hitalingen discusses only a part of his reasoning. In dissociating the statutes of Christ and of his vicar, it is possible to accept simultaneously the poverty of Christ and the Apostles as well as to recognize that the supreme pontiff is not held to act according to this model. For this reason: It appears that the entire trial led by Benedict XII against Peter John in the first article, in the thirteenth and final chapter, is scarcely or indeed not at all conclusive, even were Peter to be a supposed heretic and condemned by the Church as Benedict shows in the same place.65

The following lines reproduce a long extract from the opinion of Jacques Fournier, presenting the various meanings the expression ‘evangelical life’ might be given, as well as a remark attributed to the expositores of Peter – a term obviously to be corrected as excusatores.66 Insofar as the problems addressed do not overlap, no firm conclusion can be drawn concerning a parallel between these citations and the anonymous opinion. We note, however, that there is a similarity in the approach taken. In common with the author of the Avignon opinion, Jacques Fournier himself seems to have 63 Fribourg, Couvent des Cordeliers, MS 26, fol. 42rb: ‘prout dominus Benedictus in reprobacione primi articuli Petri Io. capitulo tertio, primo quia licet res proprias in speciali episcopo habere’. I owe the communication of a reproduction of the manuscript to the generosity of Robert Lerner. 64 Ibid., fol. 42va: ‘Secundum corrolarium, si pontif icatus Christi stirpi vite ewangelice et apostolice in Petro et apostolis datus fuisset dominio in proprio et communi per paupertatem mundatus, non videtur sequi formaliter quod supremus pontifex ecclesie […] foret nunc ad hoc obligatus.’ Hiltalingen later recalls the origin of this unusual phrase: ‘Pro quibus sciendum quod Petrus ille, in questione una, postille sue super Apocalipsim, quesivit.’ 65 Fribourg, Couvent des Cordeliers, MS 26, fol. 42va: ‘Ex hiis apparet quod modicum vel nihil concludit totus processus Benedicti 12 contra Petrum Io. articulo primo, capitulo 13 vel ultimus, quamvis suppositum Petrum sit hereticum ab ecclesia dampnatum, ut patet idem Benedictus eodem articulo et capitulo; fol. 42vb: ‘Constat in pontificem romanum multa tenere facere et servare quod Christus non fecit.’ 66 The passage is published in Koch, ‘Kardinal Jacques Fournier’, 446, but he omits some interesting references to Exiit qui seminat and Exivi de paradiso.

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taken one by one each element in the citation submitted for examination and to have explored the different possible meanings of each expression.67 In the same fashion, the two texts effect a return to the letter of the Gospel against Franciscan arguments. These comparisons are, however, insufficient to reach any certain conclusion. As Trapp and Koch have remarked, Johannes Hiltalingen long studied the differing theological opinions of Benedict XII since he makes equal use of criticisms raised against Meister Eckhart, Michael of Cesena, and William of Ockham.68 He must have had at his disposal a volume of texts conceived along the same model as a lost volume once conserved at the papal library. The inventory listed under Urban V (1369) describes it in the following manner, under the number 382, without mentioning the name of the author of the opinion: Item, one large book against the sayings of master Eckhart, of master William of Ockham, of friar Peter John Olivi, Joachim on the Apocalypse and master Michael of Cesena, covered in red leather, that begins on the second column of the first folio: sunt, and ends on the last column of the penultimate folio before Eckhart’s articles: in communi sed.69

In the inventory made under Gregory XI (1375) these same opinions, attributed to Jacques Fournier as cardinal, now occupy two volumes as numbers 655 and 656. The description of the first of these, after the preceding opinions, mentions a report given on the subject of the opinion of Durand de Saint-Pourçain on the Beatific Vision.70 The compilation of new inventories sometimes occurred when the collections were re-ordered and, in the present case, 67 See, for example, ibid., 445: ‘Hos sensus prosequitur decimo capitulo ibidem et tunc tractat secundum membrum questionis, scilicet qualiter fuerit commutatus, scilicet essentialiter vel quoad modum.’ 68 D. Trapp, ‘Augustinian Theology of the Fourteenth Century’, Augustiniana, 6 (1956), 146–274, at 244, for Hiltalingen’s thirty-six references to Benedict XII and fifteen to John XXII. 69 Ehrle, Historia bibliothecae, 316: ‘Item magnus liber contra dicti magistri Ekardi, magistri Guillelmi de Ocham, fratris Petris Iohannis Olivi, Ioachim super Apocalipsy et magistrum Michelem de Sezena, coopertus corio rubeo, qui incipit in secundo corundello primi folii: sunt, et finit in ultimo corundello penultimi folii ante articulo[s] Ekardi: in communi sed.’ 70 Ibid., 499: ‘Item, in volumine signato per CLV, dicta et responsiones fratris Iacobi tituli sancte Prisce presbyteri cardinalis ad articulos datos per dominum Iohannem papam xxii ex dictis fratris Ekardi, Michaelis, Guillelmi de Ocham et Petri Iohannis ordinis fratrum minorum [et] de animabus sanctorum exutis de corpore an videant deum ante diem iudicii, secunda pars’ (Gr. 655), where the ‘et’ is supplemented by A. Maier, ‘Zwei prooemien’, 457, in order to distinguish the opinion on Durand de Saint-Pourçain from the opinion against Olivi, which were confused by J.-M. Vidal, ‘Notice sur les œuvres du pape Benoît XII’, RHE, 6 (1905), 563–4; Ehrle, Historia

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we observe that an effort has been made to regroup two volumes containing Benedict XII’s theological opinions. The same overall title was used to designate each of the two codices as the first and second parts of a single whole, even as the second volume probably only contained treatises on the Beatific Vision against Durand. Hence we must recognize under this description the present codex, Vat. lat. 4006, presented in a distinct manner in all the other inventories of the papal library. The most interesting point to note for our purpose is that, in the two descriptions, the name of Joachim does not appear. On the occasion of another re-ordering, in the inventory of the library that antipope Benedict XIII (1394–1423) had brought with him to his castle of Peñisicola, the collection of Jacques Fournier’s opinions is found beside other works by the same author and, most importantly, his commentary on Matthew as number 98. This time the commentary on the Apocalypse of Joachim of Fiore is presented as one of the targets of the Cistercian cardinal.71 And yet, his name has disappeared by the last description of the same codex made during the posthumous inventory of Benedict XIII as number 93.72 Historians have wondered about the presence of Joachim’s name in this list which gathers together the cream of the censured figures of the pontificate of John XXII. Should we consider, with Franz Ehrle, that a truly autonomous action was taken against the abbot of Fiore more than 100 years after his death?73 Or should we instead judge, with Josef Koch, that the descriptions given in the inventories ought to finish with a word indicating that the target was not Joachim himself, but rather his fourteenth-century bibliothecae, 499: ‘Item, in volumine signato per CLVI, prima pars contra articulos magistrorum Ekardi, Michaelis, Guillelmi de Ocham et Petri Iohannis’ (Gr. 656). 71 M. Faucon, La librairie des papes d’Avignon (1316–1420), 2 vols (Paris, 1886–7), ii, 49: ‘Item responsiones ejusdem domini Benedicti contra dicta magistri Eckardi, magistri Guillermi de Ocham, fratris Petri Joannis, abbatis Joachim super Apochalipsim, et magistri Michaelis de Sezena’ (Pa 98). 72 M.-H. Jullien de Pommerol and J. Monfrin, La bibliothèque pontificale à Avignon et à Peñiscola pendant le grand schisme d’Occident et sa dispersion: inventaires et concordances, 2 vols (Rome, 1991), i, 386: ‘Item alius liber scriptus in pergameno copertus de corio rubeo continens tractatum contra dicta magistri Equardi et Guillelmi de Ocam et contra dicta fratris Petri Johannis Olivi ordinis minorum et contra dicta Micaelis de Sazena, qui incipit in primo colondello secundi folii / scriberem et finit in eodem dictum Micha’ (Pb 93). The volume was given to a provincial curate of Valence, chirographer of pontifical letters: ‘Fuit traditus Guillelmo de Cardona pro sua provisione.’ 73 F. Ehrle, Der Sentenzenkommentar Peters von Candia, des Pisaner Papstes Alexanders V (Münster, 1925), 87. C. Schmitt, Un pape réformateur et un défenseur de l’unité de l’Église, Benoît XII et l’Ordre des Frères mineurs: 1334–1342 (Quaracchi, 1959), 161, conjectures that the two authors were incriminated on the charge of evangelical poverty.

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disciples?74 The probability is too low that the same omission should reoccur during two distinct cataloguing operations to allow us to retain the latter hypothesis. It is furthermore significant that the name of Joachim does not appear each time, as though the presence of the abbot in the list of censured authors was not obvious. This situation corresponds fairly well to the form of the opinion contained in the Avignon manuscript which, in order to respond to an interrogation concerning Olivi alone, extends its investigation to Joachim’s doctrine. The text may, therefore, be described variously as either bearing on the two authors or only concerning the first of them. Such an extension of the inquest is so rare that it argues strongly for an association of the anonymous document with the lost report of Jacques Fournier described in these inventories.75

Jacques Fournier and the Beguins One other piece of evidence might help support this identification. As has been noted, one particularity of the author of the opinion is his knowledge of Barthélemy Sicard’s commentary on Daniel. The hypothesis that he was directly in contact with the persecuted Beguins after 1318 is reinforced by the biting formula employed in the last article of the opinion denouncing the theme that a tiny number of the elect survived in the Church during the reign of the Antichrist: ‘It has not been predicted that Christ should be praised or confessed by a poor church of four peasants, or by twelve or a hundred Beguins, but rather in a great Church.’76 Among the masters of theology upon whom John XXII counted in 1325, the bishop of Pamiers was best placed to speak in such a way of poor clandestine groups who claimed that they alone embodied the Church of the Third Age. This is what we will now demonstrate. It has long been known that the famous inquisition register of Jacques Fournier, containing among other things his interrogations regarding Montaillou, is not the only one that he had made to record his inquisitorial activity in the diocese of Pamiers. In fact, a register described in the ancient inventories of the papal library does not correspond to the one that has come down to us. The research of Anneliese Maier has allowed us to put together three descriptions 74 Koch, ‘Kardinal Jacques Fournier’, 369. Cf. Maier, ‘Zwei Prooemien’, 458, at n. 34. 75 Only Guido Terreni, in his later Summa de haeresibus, makes a similar association. 76 Avignon, BM, MS 1087, fol. 266ra: ‘Non enim Christus predictus est esse laudandus et confitendus in ecclesia parva quatuor rusticorum vel duodecim aut centum beguinorum, set in ecclesia magna.’

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of this second register that bring to light a detail of great importance. To reproduce the three descriptions is the most eloquent way to proceed: Item, the trial of the lord Pope Benedict against heretics, while he was bishop of Pamiers, covered in white leather, which begins on the second folio after the table of errors: dictus, and ends on the penultimate folio: in crimine.77 (Ur. 661) Item, in a volume marked 225, a book of errors and heresies of the Beguins from the third order of St Francis.78 (Gr. 726) Item, book of errors and heresies of the Beguins from the third order of St Francis in recent times, covered in white leather, which begins on the second folio after the table: francisci and ends on the penultimate: in crimine.79 (Av. 509)

Fortunately, the physical descriptions of Ur. 661 and Av. 509 allow us to associate two pieces of information that would otherwise have been disconnected from each other. The lost inquisition record of Jacques Fournier, compiled while he was bishop of Pamiers (according to the description in Ur. 661), thus concerned the ‘errors and heresies of the Beguins of the third order of St Francis’ (according to Gr. 726 and Av. 509). This discovery is not entirely a surprise. It was indeed rather curious that no Beguin should appear in the register concerning Montaillou, while at these same dates, in the neighbouring diocese of Mirepoix, several groups of a clandestine network were dismantled.80 The Beguins of Cintegabelle and Belpech, arrested in March of 1322, were incarcerated and interrogated by Bernard Gui in Pamiers, with the collaboration of Jacques Fournier, by then the bishop. He too was present in Pamiers in July 1322 when their sentence was passed, just as he participated in the condemnation to death by fire in Toulouse of the fugitive Beguins arrested in Caujac in September of that same year.81 77 Ehrle, Historia bibliothecae, 338: ‘Item processus domini Benedicti pape contra hereticos, dum erat episcopus Apamiarum, coopertus corio albo, qui incipit in secundo folio post tabulam errorum: dictus, et finit in penultimo folio: in crimine.’ 78 Ibid., 503: ‘Item in volumine signato per CCXXV liber errorum et heresum beguinorum tercii ordinis sancti Francisci.’ 79 A. Maier, ‘Der Katalog der päpstlichen Bibliothek in Avignon vom Jahr 1441’, in Maier, Ausgehendes, iii, 144: ‘Item, liber errorum et heresum beguinorum de tercio ordine sancti Francisci moderni temporis, cop. pelle alba et inc. in 2° folio post tabulam: francisci et finit in penultimo: in crimine.’ 80 Burnham, So Great a Light, 59–70. 81 See A. Pales-Gobilliard, ed., Le livre des sentences de l’inquisiteur Bernard Gui, 1308–1323 (Paris, 2002), 1308, 1350, 1354, 1396, and 1632.

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The register containing the proceedings of Montaillou is described on the first page as concerning ‘the errors of the Waldensians’, a label which only pertains to the first trial contained in this volume. The formula taken up by the cataloguers of Avignon was probably inscribed in the same way at the head of the second register. At the very least, this indicates that the first matter present in the codex concerned the Beguins. It might well have been simply a report of the sentence of July 1322; but it could also be the case that this judgment encouraged Jacques Fournier to gather in the same volume other investigations concerning the most dangerous and tenacious heresy of the time, leaving for another volume, the one known to us, matters requiring a less urgent theological reprobation. Another element that might serve as a clue in favour of attributing the opinion to the bishop of Pamiers also allows for a suggestion of this document’s importance in preparing the final condemnation of the Lectura super Apocalipsim. As recounted by Bernard Gui, the only source to relate the fact, the sentence was pronounced by John XXII in a public consistory on 8 February 1326.82 Exactly two weeks later, on 22 February, Jacques Fournier received a plenary indulgence from the pope, usually only given to inquisitors, in return for his efforts in extirpating heresy.83 The proximity of the two events is unlikely to be mere coincidence. John XXII probably wished to congratulate the bishop of Pamiers by this gesture, as much for his learned contribution in the condemnation proceedings against Olivi as for his intense inquisitorial activity – the case of the Beguins being certainly more important in the eyes of the pope than a resurgence of Catharism in the high valleys of the Ariège. In fact, ten days later, Jacques Fournier was transferred to the neighbouring episcopal seat of Mirepoix, in a diocese where the Beguins made up the most threatening group. In 1333, as a cardinal, Fournier was once again called in to address in appeals the affair of the Roussillonese noble Adhémar de Mosset, close to Philip of Majorca, whom James III, king of Majorca, had denounced as a Beguin.84 The very thorough interrogation to which Cardinal Fournier submitted him shows an acute knowledge of the Beguin heresy and their 82 Bernard Gui relates this sentence twice in the Cathalogus brevis […] de romanis pontificibus and in the Flores Chronicarum. Cf. Baluze, Vitae, i, 142, 166. 83 Jean XXII: lettres communes, no. 24466: ‘Eidem qui in inquisitione haereticae pravitatis multos pertulit labores, indulgetur illa plena suorum peccatorum venia quae inquisitoribus pravitatis ejusdem per privilegia S. A. apostolica est concessa, dum pro hujusmodi inquisitionis negotio laboraverit.’ 84 J.M. Vidal, ‘Procès d’inquisition contre Adhémar de Mosset, noble roussillonnais, inculpé de béguinisme (1332–1334)’, Revue d’histoire de l’Église de France, 1 (1910), 559–89, 682–99, 711–24.

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principal source of inspiration. Looking closely, we discover that he relies both on an interpretation of the Lectura super Apocalipsim, which presents affinities with the opinion of the Avignon manuscript, and on the declarations of Beguins condemned in Pamiers in July 1322. Instead of offering a complete demonstration, one striking example will suffice. The seventh article thus asks Adhémar if he had heard that in the Third Age of the Church the Holy Spirit would be granted to such an extent that men would sin no longer, and that a beautiful young girl might make the voyage from Rome to Compostella without inciting the least sin.85 The first part of this phrase expresses the theological preoccupations of the author of the opinion on the subject of the ‘impeccability’ of the Third Age, while the example of the young girl comes directly from the sentence given against the Beguin of Belpech, Bernat de Na Jacma.86 This interrogation allows us to observe Cardinal Fournier at work, skilfully combining the two sources available to him in his personal archives.87 Brought together, these clues leave no room for doubt as to the author of the opinion. In its form, the text corresponds to the description of some lost composition of Jacques Fournier. The quotations by Johannes Hiltalingen do not provide direct confirmation but, at the very least, they reveal a formal similarity in the doctrinal examination of different extracts of the Lectura. Nevertheless, at the core of the issue, it is the connection between this rebuttal of Olivi and the persecution of the Beguins that brings forth the most significant element. While they are explicitly cited only once in the text, these groups were surely at the forefront of the author’s mind. His method aims at deploying all of the consequences of Olivi’s commentary in order to show that the arrival of a Third Age necessarily implies a rupture with the Roman Church and the abolition of the sacraments in terms which effectively correspond to the doctrinal evolution of the Beguins, and of certain Spirituals after 1318. In his Allegationes, Bonagrazia of Bergamo does 85 Ibid., 579: ‘Interrogatus si audivit […] quod illo tempore quod sic habundanter dabitur Spiritus sanctus hominibus tertii status, quod dicti homines non peccabunt, nec peccandi habebunt propositum, et in tantum quod si una pulcra puella tunc iret de Roma usque ad Sanctum Jacobum de Galicia, quod non inveniret aliquem qui eam sollicitaret ad peccatum, nec ipsa per ad peccatum sollicitaretur.’ 86 Pales-Gobilliard, Le livre des sentences, 1334: ‘Item dixit se credidisse quod post mortem antichristi totus mundus erit fidelis et benignus, et in tantum quod una puella virgo poterit sola ire de Roma usque ad Sanctum Jacobum et non inveniet qui eam ad malum sollicite.’ PalesGobilliard’s edition, lacking any critical annotation, identifies neither the sources nor the reuse of depositions by the Beguins. 87 A complete index of sources used in the interrogation of Adhémar de Mosset would allow us to see the particular nuances of Jacques Fournier’s understanding of this heresy and, notably, his social interpretation of the poor Beguins.

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not hesitate to present this heresy as the most dangerous that the Church has ever had to confront.88 In the face of these long fragmentary passages of his intervention, Jacques Fournier does not seem to be far from sharing this opinion. If the repression of these groups might have occupied a greater place in his activity as inquisitor than we have thus far suspected, the refutation of the Olivian foundation of the ‘subversion’ of the Church, of which they were the agents, was indeed one of the great intellectual affairs of the 1320s.

Postscript When this chapter was initially written, during the summer of 2006, I thought it would mark the end of a long period of research on the trials against Peter John Olivi. Yet, two years later, I was fortunate enough to identify, in a privately owned manuscript, a treatise written in 1352 by John of Rupescissa defending Olivi’s views against the criticism raised by Francis of Meyronnes, in yet another opinion submitted to John XXII on the occasion of the same consultation. Less substantial than Fournier’s, this opinion is the only one that has been preserved in full. It shows that the pope did not extract four or five articles, but rather eight of them.89 While the Avignon manuscript has not attracted further attention in the meantime, a survey of all theological advice requested by John XXII during his pontificate offers a confirmation of the importance that such activity had in the advancement of many prelates’ careers, and especially to the benefit of Jacques Fournier.90 Sylvain Piron, École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales, Paris

88 Bonagrazia, Allegationes, fol. 40r: ‘multo periculosior et magis subversiva totius status ecclesiastici et specialiter romane ecclesie est ista secta fundata omnino in ista postilla quam secta pauperum de Lugduno aut Donatistarum seu Valdensium hereticorum’. 89 S. Piron, ‘La consultation demandée à François de Meyronnes sur la Lectura super Apocalipsim’, Oliviana, 3 (2009), online at: http://oliviana.revues.org/322 (accessed 20 July 2015). 90 S. Piron, ‘Avignon sous Jean XXII, l’Eldorado des théologiens’, in Jean XXII et le Midi, CF, 45 (2012), 357–91.

3.

Benedict XII and the Beatific Vision1 Christian Trottmann Abstract This chapter offers a synthetic overview of the role played by Benedict XII in the resolution of the Beatific Vision controversy initiated by the previous pope, John XXII. The first part of the chapter sums up the controversy. The second part analyses the role played by the pope, the cardinals, and the theologians in elaborating at Pont-sur-Sorgue the definition of the Catholic doctrine eventually published in the bull Benedictus Deus. Published on 29 January 1336, this bull establishes the dogma, thereby ending the controversy once and for all. At Pont-sur-Sorgue, the treatises written on the subject by Jacques Fournier as a cardinal were read. They contain his personal theology of the Beatific Vision, which are taken into account in the last part of this chapter. Keywords: Beatif ic Vision, Avignon papacy, Benedict XII, John XXII, theological controversies

The pontificate of Jacques Fournier (1334–1342), third of the Avignonese popes, witnessed great advances not only as a result of his construction of a new papal palace combined with renewed efforts to reform, in particular, the religious orders, but also by encouraging missionary efforts in both Mongolia and China. In Spain too, he led the resistance against the invasion of African Muslims. Fournier’s first task, however, was to resolve the crisis of the Beatific Vision, initiated by John XXII, and this he did by preparing and promulgating the constitution Benedictus Deus. This chapter offers a three-part discussion of Benedict XII’s role in resolving the controversy: first, it presents a general background to the controversy; second, it defines

1

This chapter was translated by Vicki-Marie Petrick.

Bueno, Irene (ed.), Pope Benedict XII (1334–1342). The Guardian of Orthodoxy. Amsterdam University Press, 2018 doi: 10.5117/9789462986770_ch03

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the doctrine in Benedictus Deus; and, finally, it considers the originality and relevance of this pope as a private theologian.

Jacques Fournier Confronted with the Crisis of the Beatific Vision: ‘Light of the Sacred Palace’ Jacques Fournier’s biography will inevitably be discussed at various points throughout this volume, hence only the briefest of reminders is necessary to indicate his key role in the controversy over the Beatific Vision. Born c.1280–1285 in Saverdun (Ariège), Fournier sprang from modest origins, probably coming from a family of millers. Promoted by his uncle, Arnaud Novel, Fournier made his religious profession at the Cistercian Abbey of Boulbonne, subsequently moving to Fontfroide as abbot in 1311. In the meantime he completed his education in Paris, and was ordained there on 19 December 1310. On 19 March 1317 Fournier’s uncle obtained the episcopal see of Pamiers for him, and John XXII consecrated him at Avignon on 22 August in the same year. Then began the inquisitorial activity for which Emmanuel Le Roy Ladurie’s work would render him famous.2 Most of the thirty-one sermons which have come down to us date from this period and bear witness to Fournier’s pastoral preoccupation. John XXII so appreciated his ministry that he made him bishop of Mirepoix on 3 March 1326, subsequently elevating him to cardinal priest of Santa Prisca on 18 December 1327. Rapidly rising through the curial ranks to become Master of the Sacred Palace, the pope’s official theologian, Fournier was charged with officially rejecting the doctrines of Ockham, the Joachimites, and Olivi – while the controversy of the Beatific Vision earned him the nickname ‘Light of the Sacred Palace’.3 We return now to the principal causes of this doctrinal crisis over the Beatific Vision, initiated by John XXII in 1331. In several sermons dating from the end of that year and the beginning of 1332, the pope advanced 2 Le Roy Ladurie, Montaillou. See also I. Bueno, ‘Per modum quem solent tenere heretici in respondendo. Confessione, prova e dissimulazione nel tribunale di Jacques Fournier’, Les dossiers du GRIHL, no. 2 (2009), online; Bueno, Defining Heresy. 3 Essential bibliography on Benedict XII and the Beatific Vision includes: M. Dykmans, ‘À propos de Jean XXII et de Benoît XII: la libération de Thomas Waleys’, AHP, 7 (1969), 115–30; C. Trottmann, ‘Théologie monastique et théologie scolastique dans le traité De statu animarum sanctorum ante generale iudicium du cardinal Jacques Fournier (futur pape Benoît XII)’, Documenti e studi sulla tradizione filosofica medievale (1992), 632–51; C. Trottmann, ‘Deux interprétations contradictoires de saint Bernard: les sermons de Jean XXII sur la vision béatifique et les traités inédits du cardinal Jacques Fournier’, MEFRM, 105 (1993), 327–79; Trottmann, La vision; C. Trottmann, Benoît XII: la vision béatifique (Avignon, 2009).

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the hypothesis that saintly souls must remain content with seeing only the humanity of Christ until the Last Judgment when, reunited with their resurrected bodies, they would finally be able to contemplate His divinity.4 Expressing, therefore, his doubts about an immediate vision occurring to the individual, on particular judgment, or after a time in Purgatory, he in no way wished to impose his idea of a vision deferred until the Last Judgment. On the contrary, he intended to call for the thoughts of contemporary theologians on this difficult theological question. St Bernard explained in his sermons for All Saints’ Day that the saintly souls could not definitively enter into perfect beatitude until the mystical body of Christ was completed. In the same way, the pope from Cahors added that a prelate could not enter into joy without his flock entering as well. Together with this pastoral concern went an expeditious legal solution to a difficult theological problem: could a cause be judged twice over? John XXII, more skilled in canon law than scholastic theology, considered that if a date were decided upon for the Last Judgment, no separate, individual judgment could occur between times. He thus rejected advances in scholastic thinking on individual eschatology within a context marked by two other theological and political crises. On the one hand was the confrontation between spiritual and temporal powers, from Boniface VIII (1294–1303) and Philip the Fair to John XXII and Louis of Bavaria; on the other was the debate on poverty, which set the last pope up against the Fraticelli.5 The defeated Franciscan ‘schismatics’ retreated under the protection of the excommunicated emperor in Munich. Here, using bulls on poverty as a starting point, they compiled lists of heresies aimed at dethroning the pope by council, and completed these lists from reportationes of the pope’s sermons concerning the Beatific Vision.6 The outlines of the portraits they drew can assist us in understanding the issues. To simplify, let us say that according to such a vision Christ would reign in His humanity until the Last Day, at which point He would render the kingdom up to the Father who 4 M. Dykmans, Les sermons de Jean XXII sur la vision béatifique (Rome, 1973); M. Dykmans, ‘Fragments du traité de Jean XXII sur la vision béatifique’, Recherches de théologie ancienne et médiévale, 37 (1970), 232–53. 5 On the quarrel between the two powers, see in particular C. Dolcini, Crisi di poteri e politologia in crisi (Bologna, 1988); on poverty and the Fraticelli see R. Lambertini, La povertà pensata (Modena, 2000); P. Nold, Pope John XXII and his Franciscan Cardinal: Bertrand de la Tour and the Apostolic poverty controversy (Oxford, 2003). 6 In the manuscripts of Vatican City, BAV, MS Vat. lat. 4008 and 4009 are several calls from Michael of Cesena and Bonagrazia of Bergamo to hold a council which would depose the pope as a heretic.

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would henceforth become all in all and called to reign in His divinity. Until that time all Christians, even the Blessed who would reside in the mystical body of Christ, must continue to submit to the Head and be content with seeing only His humanity. Above all, the whole of the Church Militant must therefore remain obedient to its vicar on earth, the pope. We see then that the reign of Christ as Man was part and parcel of the theocratic theory of the time, while the Franciscan ‘Spirituals’ rejected such a dominium in Christ and his Apostles, which they felt was so incompatible with absolute poverty. The three controversies of the early fourteenth century are indeed implicitly linked. The first controversy concerns temporal and spiritual power, the second poverty, and the third the issue of the Beatific Vision. Indeed, if Christ reigns in His humanity for all time, faithful believers must await the Last Day to obtain redemption and to see His divinity fully revealed while awaiting perfect salvation in Heaven. Furthermore, given that the pastoral responsibility of His representatives extends to eternal happiness, this responsibility supposes precedence over the temporal power of emperor or kings. The ‘schismatics’ of Munich inferred from the hypothesis of a deferred vision a Christology with Nestorian tendencies as well as ‘heretic’ Trinitarian theology. The implications of these tendencies may help us understand the theological and political issues of the controversy. But such implications were never intended by John XXII. The spiritual power of Christ in His humanity – which the pontiff affirms as continuous through to Judgment Day, and from which he inherits his pastoral responsibility – could never exclude the power of the Father before such time. What is more original is how John XXII relates this responsibility to the mystical body of Christ. He uses an idea of Bernard’s which in fact goes back to Ambrose. The bishop of Milan suggests that even if the saints were already assured of their merits, they would show compassion toward the suffering members of the ecclesial body insofar as its redemption is not yet entire.7 Bernard, who gives this collective eschatology a long development, 7 ‘Cui conjunxit Apostolus etiam sanctorum gemitum, qui habent primitias Spiritus; nam et ipsi ingemiscunt. Quamvis enim de suo merito securi sint, tamen quia futura est adhuc redemptio totius corporis Ecclesiae, compatiuntur. Cum enim adhuc membra patiuntur corporis sui, quomodo alia membra, licet superiora non compatiuntur membris unius corporis laborantibus?’ Ambrose of Milan, Letter 35.7, PL, xvi, 1079a–b. To this the Apostle adds that the groaning of the saints, the very ones who have the first fruits of the Spirit, they too indeed groan. Because the redemption of the whole of the ecclesiastical body remains in the future, although they be assured of their worth, they still commiserate. Since until that time members suffer in their body, how might other members, however superior they be, not commiserate with the suffering members of this same body.

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does not deny the vision of God to saintly souls in Heaven. Simply, without their bodies they would be unable to attain perfect bliss. Gifted with the vision of God, but in such a way that it did not confer perfect happiness upon them, they would reach this state only when reunited with their bodies and when the entirety of the mystical body of Christ is reunited with its Head. Their wait does not only concern their bodies. They must also wait until the mystical body is completely reunited. Only then will they be able to advance from a prayer of request to ultimate praise. Bernard, therefore, concedes to saintly souls a vision and even an enjoyment of God. They drink (Song 5: 1), but they have not yet reached a state of drunkenness. This final drunkenness, associated with the fullness of the vision of God, supposes that the entirety of the mystical body should be reunited with its head: As we could never see God as He is here below, we do not enjoy perfect happiness. This will not be until He draws us to Him, when the Head will be reunited with the Body and God will be All in All. Then happiness will be complete, whereas we have now only a foretaste. Indeed, now we taste and we see how sweet the Lord is. But if we taste, we do not yet drink. If we see how sweet He is, we do not yet enter […]. As for the saintly souls from whom death has taken their earthly envelopes and who have already flown to their ethereal rest, if they drink, they are as yet neither replete nor drunken. For, although they enjoy a great happiness, yet they must still await the Resurrection of their bodies which are dead, then they will be twice happy in their rest and taste eternal felicity.8

However, in sermon 4, Bernard returns to the subject of the altar of Christ under which saintly souls are held. In contrast to the bosom of Abraham, which will remain in darkness until Christ descends into Hell, the altar is a place of light, the very humanity of Christ where the martyrs will remain

8 ‘Quia igitur hic vultum Dei, sicuti est, videre non possumus; adimpletionem laetitiae non habemus, donec trahat nos ad se ipsum, et accedat caput corpori, et sit Deus omnia in omnibus. Illic erit adimpletio, hic est gustus. Gustamus enim hic et videmus quoniam suavis est Dominus; sed gustus iste non transit in potum, quia licet videamus, non tamen penetramus […]. Sanctorum autem animae terrenis exutae corporibus, quae jam ad sedes aethereas evolaverunt, licet bibant, non tamen adimplentur, non tamen inebriantur. Quamvis enim multa beatitudine perfruantur, exspectant tamen resurrectionem mortuorum corporum, ut cum in terra sua duplicia possederint, sempiterna perfundantur laetitia (Isa. 61: 7)’, Bernard of Clairvaux, Sermo 41.12, SBO, vi, 1, 253, lines 4–13.

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content while awaiting the power to contemplate divinity in passing over the altar.9 These passages are the main sources of John XXII’s opinion which give credence to the idea that before the final Resurrection saintly souls must remain content with the vision of the humanity of Christ, discovering his divinity only on the Last Day. Yet, Bernard does not doubt that the mediation of Christ gives them entry into Heaven without delay. Paradoxically, it is this very solidarity of the mystical body which guarantees immediate vision and which postpones perfect happiness until the Last Day, for the saints retain a solidarity with the members of the Church Militant through which the prayers for intercession addressed to them make sense. We glorify the saints, but with the glory of the Church Triumphant they come to our aid. This solidarity, however, has a price: perfect joy will come only upon the day of the final judgment, when the mystical body of Christ is reunited in its totality.10 Bernard thus gives to Hebrews 11: 39 an eschatological meaning, whereas the passage is more usually brought to bear on the Old Testament’s souls that have to wait until the Resurrection of Christ. It is, therefore, a mercy for the saints to wait as they hope for the conversion of sinners. Their happiness lies, one might say paradoxically, in postponing their entry into the fullness of joy: They were ordered to rest for some time until the impious should be crushed with a double contrition, and that they themselves receive the crown of double beatitude. But, at present, they have not yet what they desire, they cannot yet become drunken, and the vision of God that they enjoy is for them only a nectar. As they drink without effort, thus they rest without work until the day in which they will be satisfied, for the 9 ‘Porro altare ipsum […], ego pro meo sapere nihil aliud arbitror esse, quam corpus ipsum Domini Salvatoris […]. Interim ergo sub Christi humanitate feliciter sancti quiescunt, in quam nimirum desiderant etiam angeli ipsi prospicere, donec veniat tempus, quando jam non sub altari collocentur, sed exaltentur super altare’ (As for the altar, it means nothing else, according to me, than the very body of our Lord and Saviour […]. So thus the saints rest in happiness, under the humanity of Christ, which the angels themselves burn to contemplate, while awaiting for the day to break, ceasing to be hidden under the altar, they will be placed above in glory), Bernard of Clairvaux, Sermo 4.2, SBO, v, 356, lines 3–9. 10 ‘Nec est quod de eorum pia erga nos sollicitudine dubitemus, quandoquidem non consummandi sine nobis […], exspectant nos usque dum retribuatur nobis, ut videlicet in novissimo die magno festivitatis omnia simul in virum perfectum cum suo tam excelso capite membra concurrant’ (We cannot doubt their pious solicitude for us, given no less that they cannot be consumed in felicity without us […], and wait for us until the day in which we too will receive our reward, until the last grand day of celebration, in which all members will be brought into force at the same time to make a perfect man with their glorious head), SBO, vi, 1, 369, line 5.

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Glory of the Lord will have appeared unto them. But when we shall be resurrected in the state of the perfect man, at the age and the fullness of Jesus Christ, when the Holy City is adorned with pearls, and all those who live there are in delight, then He will fill us with joy by the view of His face, because we will see Him as He is. We will then be drunk with the abundance that reigns in His house and we will drink of the river of His pleasures.11

What is given here is a merciful interpretation of this double contrition of the impious which can also be read in Bernard’s text as the double punishment of the damned – that of both body and soul. The two readings do not seem to be mutually exclusive. What souls await is not only to have their bodies again in eternal glory, but also the double contrition of sinners which will allow the mystical body of Christ to find completion. John XXII recognized this meaning of mercy in Bernard’s ecclesiology. But, by this same understanding of the saints’ wait which owed so much to Bernard, the pope rejected the advances of the scholastic period on the doctrine of the Beatific Vision.12 Since 1241 these advances had specified the divine essence as the object of the saintly souls’ Beatific Vision. Scholastic theologians also reflected on the means by which God might lift to infinite vision a created and finite human intellect: that is love and/or light of glory. There was nothing opposed to saintly souls, or even sufficiently purified souls, being able to enjoy such a vision as soon as their particular, personal judgment had taken place or after their necessary time in Purgatory. But it was the pope himself who felt reticent toward this idea. He explains several times, and particularly in his second sermon on the Beatific Vision (15 December 1331): If, therefore, the soul is not in itself operational, neither can the body act by itself, but only the composite of the two, it is to the composite as 11 ‘Et injunctum, ut sustineant tempus adhuc modicum (Apoc. 6.11), donec impii conterantur duplici contritione, et ipsi gemina beatitudine coronentur. Cum ergo nondum habeant quod habere desiderant, inebriari non possunt, sed est illa visio eis potus: ut sicut absque labore bibitur, ita sine labore quiescatur, donec satientur cum apparuerit gloria eius. Cum autem resurgemus in virum perfectum, in mensuram aetatis plenitudinis Christi (Ephes. 4: 13), et gloriosa illa civitas margaritis ornabitur, et sicut laetantium omnium habitatio erit in ea; tunc adimplebit nos laetitia cum vultu suo (Ps. 15: 11), quia videbimus eum sicuti est (1 John 3: 2). Tunc inebriabimur ab ubertate domus suae, et torrente voluptatis suae potabit nos (Ps. 35: 9)’, Bernard of Clairvaux, Sermo 41.12, SBO, v, 253, lines 13–24. 12 On these advances in scholastic thinking on the Beatific Vision, see Trottmann, La vision, 115–409, and Trottmann, Benoît XII, 47–59.

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a whole that a reward shall be given. Thus was the opinion of Bernard […] to wit, that saintly souls do not receive this reward, that is to say the vision of the Divinity, until their bodies resurrect […]. You say that the judgment is double, to wit, both particular and universal; for now, Christ daily gives the reward in particular judgment, but then he will do so universally to all. But one cannot say this for it is written ‘pay them their wages, beginning from the last, even to the first’, which could not happen in a particular judgment.13

We must understand that the jurist’s reasons are twofold. The same cause cannot be judged twice. So, if the reward has already begun for the saintly or purified souls, the final judgment no longer makes sense. But, most of all, if the Church is the mystical body of Christ it must await its own completion before entering into glory. This is what is suggested by John XXII’s radical position, which is stricter on this point than its source, Bernard – who, as we have seen, conceded that saintly souls enjoyed an imperfect face-to-face vision. Among those who favoured the pope’s hypothesis, two lines of defence come to the fore.14 There was Annibaldo of Ceccano, who accumulated the scriptural and patristic authorities in favour of a deferred vision.15 Then there were the mainly Oxfordian and Franciscan Scotists, led by Walter Chatton, who developed a theology of the vision of God mediated by a species, the ultimate of these being the humanity of Christ.16 More numerous, however, 13 ‘Si ergo anima per se non est operatrix, nec corpus per se operatur, sed compositum, ergo toti composito merces redditur. Ista fuit sententia beati Bernardi […] scilicet quod animae sanctorum non recipient istam mercedem, scilicet visionem deitatis, quousque resurgant corpora sua […]. Dicis tu quod duplex est iudicium, scilicet particulare et universale; nunc autem Christus cotidie reddit mercedem in iudicio particulari; sed tunc reddet omnibus universaliter. Istud non potest dici, quia ibi dicitur: “Redde illis mercedem, incipiens a novissimis usque ad primos”, quod habere locum non potest in iudicio particulari’, Dykmans, Les sermons, 104, lines 4–11; 106, lines 13–8. 14 Trottmann, La vision, 495–522, 524–53; C. Trottmann, ‘La vision béatifique, question disputée à la cour d’Avignon?’, in Philosophy and Theology in the Studia of the Religious Orders and at Papal and Royal Courts, ed. K. Emery, W.J. Courtenay, and S.M. Metzger (Turnhout, 2012), 677–700; C. Trottmann, ‘Vision béatifique et intuition d’un objet absent: des sources franciscaines du nominalisme aux défenseurs scotistes de l’opinion de Jean XXII sur la vision différée’, Studi Medievali, 34 (1993), 653–715; C. Trottmann, ‘Scotistes et arguments inspirés de Scot, dans la controverse de la vision béatifique’, Archa Verbi, 6 (2013), 43–55. 15 Annibaldo of Ceccano, archbishop of Naples (1325–27), cardinal priest of San Lorenzo in Lucina (1320–33), and cardinal bishop of Tusculum 1333–50), Eubel, i, 376. 16 Walter Chatton, sermon of 22 February, 1333, M. Dykmans, ‘Les frères mineurs d’Avignon au début de 1333, le sermon de Gautier de Chatton sur la vision béatifique’, Archives d’histoire littéraire et doctrinale du Moyen Âge, 38 (1971), 105–48, at 138.

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were those taking sides against the pontiff’s opinion, who had enjoined prelates and theologians alike to submit their reflections on the question to the Apostolic Seat. Among those who set to work immediately was Jacques Fournier, who wrote voluminous treatises on the matter; another was the Master of the Sacred Palace, the Dominican Armand de Belvézer, who taught an entire course on the subject in the following school year.17 The court at Avignon appears at this time as the epicentre of theological discussion on the Beatific Vision. That said, it is clear that treatises and letters came from all four corners of Europe. In Naples, for example, Robert of Anjou wrote such a treatise on the subject and dedicated it to the pope, who had sent him a volume of the collected authorities in favour of a deferred vision.18 In the same city, the Dominican John of Naples disputed a question on the subject posed by John XXII before the end of 1332.19 Among the most rapid reactions to the pope’s opinion must obviously be counted that of the principal members of the opposition gathered in Munich around the Emperor, Louis IV (1327–1347). At the end of March 1332, Ockham finished the Opus Nonaginta Dierum. In the first days of April Bonagrazia of Bergamo composed the first Great Appeal as a request to hold a council.20 It is true that at the Bavarian court the question was not really disputed. Franciscans sheltered by the Emperor restricted themselves to pointing out lists of propositions in the pope’s sermons that were open to condemnation as heretical by a council that they hoped to hold in order to depose him. By the end of the year, it seems that Dominican resistance to the pope’s opinion began to be organised in Avignon and beyond. One issue was the question disputed by John of Naples while, for the Feast of St Lucy (13 December), a Dominican in Avignon criticized John XXII’s opinion on the Beatific Vision from the pulpit. This led to a Franciscan reply on 21 December, and then to that of Cardinal Annibaldo of Ceccano on the Feast of St Stephen 17 On the contribution of Armand de Belvézer, see Trottmann, La vision, 553–74; idem, Benoît XII, 88–91; idem, ‘La vision béatifique, question disputée’, 677–700. 18 Robert of Anjou, La vision bienheureuse, traité envoyé au pape Jean XXII, ed. M. Dykmans (Rome, 1970). 19 John of Naples, Utrum animae sanctorum separatae a corporibus ante resurrectionem generalem videant clare seu aperte vel beatifice divinam essentiam, ed. P.T. Stella, ‘Giovanni Regina di Napoli e la tesi di Giovanni XXII circa la visione beatifica’, Salesianum (1973), 53–99. 20 L. Oliger, ‘De operibus fratris Bonagratiae’, Archivum Franciscanum Historicum, 22 (1929), 310; William of Ockham, Opera politica, ed. H.S. Offler, 4 vols (Manchester, 1940–63); William of Ockham, Dialogus de potestate papae et imperatoris, compendium errorum Johannes XXII (Turin, 1966); William of Ockham, Dialogus, ed. J. Kilcullen, J. Scott, J. Ballweg, and V. Leppin (Oxford, 2011); William of Ockham, A Translation of William of Ockham’s Book of Ninety Days, ed. and trans. J. Kilcullen and J. Scott (New York, 2001).

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(26 December).21 This was only a few days earlier than Thomas Waleys’ sermon of 3 January which sparked a crisis, preceding the treatise of Durand of Saint-Pourçain, bishop of Meaux, which reached Avignon in the spring.22 The University of Paris obviously participated in the discussion. As early as December 1332 an unidentif ied Dominican master there disputed a Quodlibet in which he vigorously attacked the pope’s opinion. Two graduates reported the event and responded to him. One was a Carmelite, whose treatise is decorated with a miniature depicting him at the pope’s feet, offering his work to the pontiff.23 The other was the Franciscan, Arnaud de Clermont, who addressed his commentary on the Sentences in Curia to Benedict XII shortly after he issued the bull Benedictus Deus.24 Meanwhile the controversy deteriorated, at least in Avignon. Thomas Waleys not only criticized the pope’s opinion but also accused his partisans of seeking temporal rewards by supporting him. In fact, some of these, such as Annibaldo of Ceccano, were rewarded with several prebends at this time. But the tactless Dominican was himself imprisoned and handed over to the Inquisition ruled by the Franciscans. The Holy See dragged out the matter and his trial only took place in September of the following year. Durand of Saint-Pourçain, another Dominican known for his liberty of thought, was also associated with the affair. He addressed a small treatise to the pope, from which the inquisitors drew eleven articles. Jacques Fournier and Armand de Belvézer were also to express themselves on the subject, and did so with the utmost prudence.25 After the scandal provoked by Thomas Waleys, the pope and his partisans intended to take command of the debate, at least in Avignon. By the following week, John XXII instructed his chamberlain, Gaspert de Laval, to name the preachers who would officiate with the religious orders.26 The Franciscan sermons preached by the Scotists Walter Chatton and William of Alnwick in favour of the pope date from this period, as do those no less 21 BAV, MS Vat. lat. 4007, fol. 48 sq.; Dykmans, Les sermons, 170; M. Dykmans, ‘Le Cardinal de Ceccano et la vision béatifique’, Gregorianum, 50 (1969), 343–82. 22 On the trial against Waleys, see T. Käppeli, Le procès contre Thomas Waleys o.p., étude et documents (Rome, 1936); M. Dykmans, ‘À propos de Jean XXII et de Benoît XII: la libération de Thomas Waleys’, AHP, 7 (1969), 115–30; Chartularium Universitatis Parisiensis, 4 vols, ed. H. Denifle and E. Chatelain (Paris 1889), i, nos. 971, 973, 986, 415–40. 23 M. Dykmans, ‘Jean XXII et les carmes: la controverse de la vision’, Carmelus 17 (1970), 151–192’; Trottmann, La vision, 626–43. 24 Dykmans, ‘Les frères mineurs d’Avignon’; Trottmann, La vision, 617–25. 25 Trottmann, La vision, 586–8, 592–602. 26 Dykmans, Les sermons, 171; Chartularium, i, no. 973.

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favourable, composed by Jean Rubey of Clarion and Alvaro Pelayo.27 It was certainly around Easter of this same year that the Cardinal of Ceccano directed in the Curia a disputed question concerning the Beatific Vision. His respondents were Pierre Roger, the future Clement VI (1342–1352), and Pierre Desmaisons, who was to be elected in the following weeks as General of the Carmelites.28 Following the trial against the two Dominicans, Guiral Ot, Minister General of the Franciscans, having been expected at the court of the king of Scotland, was detained in Paris. Summoned to the Louvre on 17 December, Ot was to answer before ten theologians for theses that he had defended in a Quodlibet held at the university some days before. Hence, this defence in Paris occurred in a climate of high tension between Dominican theologians, who were the majority in Paris but persecuted in Avignon, and Franciscan theologians. It was a fine chance to draw out the general of the Friars Minor, who was close to John XXII, and make him talk. Far from defending the exact position of the pope, he managed skilfully to escape this trap. He did so by denying at the same time both the possibility of attributing a definitive vision to separated souls and of refusing them any vision at all of God. Above all, he denied the possibility that definitive vision should be the same as that of the saintly souls but augmented at the Resurrection and the Day of Judgment.29 The situation appeared to be deadlocked on the eve of John XXII’s death. The king of France could not wrest from Parisian theologians any definition that would force the pope’s hand. Those in Munich could not hold a council likely to depose him. As for John himself, he was unable to obtain any favourable definition from the consistory held on the subject between 1333 and 1334. At best, he signed a retraction recognizing the face-to-face vision of separated saintly souls insofar as their state would permit.30 Nevertheless, the controversy allowed a rich theological debate to take place. In this review of its main developments we set out the arguments in favour of the thesis 27 Dykmans, ‘Le dernier sermon de Guillaume d’Alnwick’, Archivium Franciscanum Historicum, 63 (1970), 259–79; idem, ‘Les frères mineurs d’Avignon’; idem, ‘Jean XXII et les carmes; and Trottmann, La vision, 524–53, 643–6. 28 Dykmans, Les sermons, 175; Trottmann, ‘La vision béatifique, question disputée’, 686. 29 C. Trottmann, ‘Intellect et images dans La vision de Dieu aux multiples formes de Guiral Ot’, in Intellect et imagination dans la philosophie médiévale, ed. M.C. Paceco and J.F. Merinhos (Turnhout, 2006), iii, 1875–86; C. Trottmann, ‘Guiral Ot, De l’éternité au temps et retour: conjectures à partir du De multiformi visione Dei’, in The Medieval Concept of Time: studies on the scholastic debate and its reception in early modern philosophy, ed. P. Porro (Leiden, 2001), 287–317. 30 Chartularium, i, no. 987, 441.

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of the deferred vision put forth by John XXII and turn to the role played by Benedict XII in the resolution of the crisis, restating the principal arguments brought to the debate by partisans of the immediate vision. The verses interpreted by John XXII as arguing against an immediate vision (Heb. 11: 40 and Ap. 14: 12–13) are related to the fathers of the Old Testament who must await redemption by Christ. If Paul or Stephen wished to die to be with Him, it was to rejoin His divinity, without which it would serve no purpose to cease earning one’s reward in this world. In the sacerdotal prayer (Jn. 17: 24), which is Jacques Fournier’s central authority, Christ asks that those whom his Father has given Him should be with Him so that they may contemplate His glory, which goes back to the creation of the world. It is, therefore, a question of the uncreated glory of His divinity, and for that reason Christ would never limit saintly souls to the mere glory of His created humanity. In contrast to the Master of the Sacred Palace, John of Naples promote a noetic point of view, and shows that separated souls are entirely capable of performing their final acts of knowledge and will which do not require the use of an organ.31 John of Naples’ fellow Dominicans were less respectful of the pope’s thesis. Waleys indignantly disdained decorum and took an ironic stance towards the venality of his defenders in Curia. John of Naples, assimilating the pope’s position to the error of the Greeks, declares it heretical alongside the anonymous master who disputed the question in Paris at the end of 1332. As for Durand de Saint-Pourçain, he scarcely does better in attributing to the pope the theses with which Moneta of Cremona had incriminated the Cathars.32 More imaginative, Waleys attempted to conceive the chain of events from the Resurrection through to Judgment. To sum up the ideas of Durand we must concentrate on two verses upon which he comments with great subtlety: ‘Today you will be with me in Heaven’ (Lk. 23: 43). These words spoken by Christ to the Good Thief could in no way apply to their bodies which were to be buried separately; nor could it apply to leading their souls to the Empyrean Heaven as Christ would not return there before the Ascension. The phrase indicates a spiritual paradise that is none other than the Beatific Vision. As for Paul’s wish to die in order to be with Christ (Phil. 1: 21–24), this could only apply to his divinity since the bishop of Meaux judges that seeing his humanity would have brought no advantage to the Apostle. On the contrary, seeing his humanity must have been an enormous loss compared to the possibility of continuing to 31 John of Naples, Utrum animae, 65; Trottmann, La vision, 576. 32 Trottmann, La vision, 578, 586, 593, 621.

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earn his reward until death.33 This bold claim meant that several articles were held against him by the inquisitors. They were, however, followed neither by Pierre Roger, the future Clement VI, nor by Jacques Fournier when summoned to comment on this. The Dominican order provided the core of the arguments against John XXII’s thesis. The prior of the Avignon monastery played a centralizing role, and might well have been the author of an anonymous treatise directed against Annibaldo of Ceccano.34 We also know that Durandelle responded to John Lutterell.35 It should be noted in passing that several Franciscans also argued against the pope. One such was Géraud du Pesquier, who taught at the University of Toulouse.36 Nicholas of Lyra was another Franciscan whose contribution was no less courageous.37 The Patriarch of Alexandria and John of Aragon, the young archbishop of Tarragona, as well as King Robert of Anjou also rank among the authors of treatises hostile to a deferred vision. Robert, a well-known partisan of the Spirituals, argued from the privilege of ecstatics. According to him, Paul and Moses, who had seen God in their earthly life, offer evidence of an immediate vision by souls in their lives in Heaven. Finally, Robert’s treatise is not only a systematic refutation of authorities put forth by the pope, but also a rich list of authorities arguing for the opposing position. It also employs an original use of modern doctors as well as philosophical tradition. He appears as knowledgeable in scholastics as Thomas Aquinas, and also as a humanist capable of recognizing in Plato, Seneca, and Macrobius arguments germane to the divine rewards meted out to souls. Having put forward the interconnecting arguments both for and against the thesis of John XXII, the originality of Jacques Fournier’s thought becomes clear. First, however, let us finish with this historical review by revealing his institutional role in the resolution of the crisis started by his predecessor.

33 Ibid., 576. 34 M. Dykmans, Pour et Contre Jean XXII en 1333: deux traités avignonnais sur la vision béatifique (Vatican City, 1975), 169–396. 35 C. Trottmann, ‘À propos de la querelle avignonnaise de la vision béatifique: une réponse dominicaine au chancelier John Lutterell’, Archives d’histoire doctrinale et littéraire du Moyen-Âge, 61 (1994), 263–301. 36 Trottmann, La vision, 680–90. 37 C. Trottmann, ‘À propos du traité De visione divinae essentiae ab animabus sanctis a corpore separatis’, in Nicolas de Lyre, Franciscain du XIVe siècle, exégète et théologien, ed. G. Dahan (Paris, 2011), 243–68.

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Benedict XII: Man of Providence in Resolving the Controversy of the Beatific Vision and its Doctrinal Definition The year 1334 opened in complete deadlock. Towards the end of 1333, John XXII held a consistory in an attempt to obtain a definition agreeing with his position, but failed to garner sufficient support. Parisian theologians, who pronounced themselves in favour of an immediate vision, had no power to impose their view. In contrast, the schismatic Franciscans sheltered in Munich by the emperor continued to accuse the pope of entire lists of heresies, each longer than the last. They could not, however, succeed in summoning a council that might depose him. This same year that saw tensions lessen, at least in Paris, ended with the pope’s death on 4 December 1334. On his deathbed, John XXII submitted to his cardinals a bull retracting his position. Some judged this only a partial retraction, but his prudence was praiseworthy. As death intervened to prevent him from doing so, John’s successor, Benedict XII, the former Jacques Fournier, subsequently issued a bull on 17 March 1335, and undoubtedly played a large role in composing it.38 The staunchest opponents of the former pope certainly sought a clearer abjuration. Among these was Ockham, who, in his Dialogus, offered up an example: ‘I abjure the heresy which I approved and taught, in aff irming that saintly souls in Heaven do not have a clear vision of God.’ Nevertheless, it was beside the point to charge this opinion with heresy since the question had never been the subject of doctrine. Indeed, by January 1334 the consistory’s report specified that John XXII, in anything that he could have said about the souls’ vision, neither intended to determine anything that might contradict Scripture and the faith nor to maintain anything in his statements that might contradict them.39 He enjoined theologians to work on this matter, on pain of excommunication. In the bull of retraction published posthumously by Benedict, John declared his belief, in communion with the Catholic Church, that: Souls separated from their bodies and fully purified are in Paradise, in the Kingdom of Heaven above, and with Jesus Christ in the company of angels and that, according to common law, they see God and the Divine

38 Chartularium, i, no. 987, 440–42. 39 Ibid., no. 983, 433–36.

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essence face to face and clearly, as far as the state and condition of the separated soul allows. 40

The final modalization may seem to deny the separated souls a vision which would be incompatible with the imperfection of their state. Their presence in Heaven with Christ, however, is already affirmed. Insofar as this is so, it might also be that this affirmation simply allows for the possibility of a more perfect vision after the final Resurrection and the Last Judgment. This is precisely the point considered by Jacques Fournier as a private theologian in his treatises presented to John XXII on the Beatific Vision. If he had any part in the preparation of this bull, he clearly did not force his predecessor to affirm more than he believed, but left open the possibility of defining an access of souls to a more perfect happiness at the Resurrection and Last Judgment. This is how he revised his theological treatises on the subject after having himself preached in favour of an immediate vision scarcely more than a year after his election on 20 December 1334. And yet, nothing from his original theses appears in the bull Benedictus Deus which he published on 29 January 1336, setting dogma and thereby ending the controversy once and for all. This bull had been meticulously prepared by a consistory of cardinals and theologians, lasting over four months at his summer residence in Pont-sur-Sorgue and working, in point of fact, from Jacques Fournier’s treatises. 41 Having already gone over what the commission retained and dismissed from new matter in these treatises, let us examine the principal points of doctrine specified by the bull. It begins with a reminder that before access to the immediate vision, the soul must be purified: According to the general order of God, the souls of all the saints who have left this world before the Passion of our Lord, Jesus Christ; as with the souls of the holy Apostles, martyrs, confessors, virgins, and those others of the faithful who died after receiving the holy baptism of Christ and who had nothing to expiate at death or who in the future will have nothing to expiate at their death; those also who have had to or will have to be purified, or when after their purification will have finished doing so, as with the souls of children reborn by the same baptism of Christ or

40 Ibid., no. 986, 441. 41 On the commission’s preparatory work, see Trottmann La vision, 795–801; idem, Benoît XII, 109–17.

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those yet to be baptized, or when they will have been baptized if they die before the age of discretion. 42

First, the different figures appear as listed in Jacques Fournier’s treatise and by the commission: saints, martyrs, and Apostles, but also children or adults who had died immediately after their baptism, or the less saintly faithful for whom a time in Purgatory may be necessary. The Cistercian cardinal had not been alone in remarking that it would be unworthy to deny the immediate vision to martyrs, extending this necessity to Apostles, confessors, and to the Virgin. On this point the bull goes further in opening the vision to souls that would have completed their time in Purgatory, thus endorsing the eschatological geography which had evolved, particularly since the twelfth century. 43 All, immediately after their death, and after the aforesaid expiation for those who need such expiation, even before the Resurrection of their body and the general judgment, and this after the Ascension of Jesus Christ our Saviour, are, or will be, above, in the Kingdom of Heaven, and in the celestial paradise with Christ, admitted to the society of angels. And after the death and Passion of our Lord Jesus Christ, they have seen, see and will see the divine essence with an intuitive and even face-to-face vision, with no creature in an interposing view, but rather immediately, by the grace of the divine essence manifesting itself nakedly, clearly, and openly. 44

The timing of the vision is specified: it is immediate, in contrast to the opinion given by John XXII. It need not await the final Resurrection or Last 42 ‘quod secundum communem Dei ordinationem animae sanctorum hominum qui de hoc mundo ante domini nostri Iesu Christi passionem decesserunt necnon sanctorum Apostolorum, Martyrum, Confessorum, Virginum et aliorum fldelium defunctorum, post sacrum ab eis Christi baptisma susceptum, in quibus nil purgabile fuit quando decesserunt, nec erit quando decedent etiam infuturum; vel si tunc fuit aut erit purgabile aliquid in eisdem, cum post mortem suam fuerint purgatae; ac quod animae puerorum eodem Christi baptismate renatorum et baptizandorum, cum fuerint baptizati ante usum liberi arbitrii decedentium.’ 43 J. Le Goff, La naissance du purgatoire (Paris, 1981). 44 ‘mox post mortem suam et purgationem praefatam in illis qui purgatione huiusmodi indigebant, etiam ante resumptionem suorum corporum et iudicium generale, post ascensionem Salvatoris nostri domini Iesu Christi in caelum, fuerunt sunt et erunt in caelo, caelorum regno et paradiso caelesti cum Christo, sanctorum Angelorum consortio aggregatae; ac post domini Iesu Christi passionem et mortem viderunt, vident et videbunt divinam essentiam visione intuitiva et etiam faciali, nulla mediante creatura in ratione obiecti visi se habente, sed divina essentia immediate se nude clare et aperte eis ostendente.’

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Judgment, as he had suggested. And yet does the historic moment this vision becomes possible occur at either the Passion or at the Ascension of Christ? There is a subtlety in the text that must be remarked upon. Heaven cannot be opened before the humanity of Christ enters there itself. Hence, the entry of saintly souls must await His Ascension. And yet the souls of those whom He had freed from Hell or whom, dying in the preceding forty days, had no need of purification could benefit without delay from the vision of the divine essence. Thus such souls are like the thief to whom Christ promises paradise on the Cross. They are with the Lord in paradise in the sense that they immediately enjoy a vision of the divinity. Yet neither the thief nor any soul can ascend before Christ to the Empyrean Heaven which is the celestial paradise opened by His Ascension. Finally this vision, enjoyed by the blessed since the Passion, and in the case of the thief since the Descent into Hell, is without any intermediary. In Scotist terms it is intuitive and it is face to face according to the Pauline verses (1 Cor. 13: 12). It proceeds directly from a revelation of the divine essence: Furthermore, by the very fact of this vision, the souls of those already dead enjoy the divine essence, and by the very fact of this vision and of this enjoyment, they are truly happy and possess life and eternal rest. Thus it will be for souls who, dying after, will see the divine essence and will enjoy it before the general judgment. Moreover, this vision and this enjoyment of the divine essence will bring to an end in these souls all acts of faith and hope, insofar as faith and hope are understood as theological virtues proper. Furthermore, from the moment in which they have begun or will have begun in these souls, this same intuitive and face-to-face vision and this same enjoyment have endured and will endure without interruption and without end, until the Last Judgment and from that time till forever.

The enjoyment of the divinity comes from its vision by the intelligence. We will not venture into discussions concerning the precedence of the intellect or the will according to theological and philosophical schools. John XXII and Annibaldo of Ceccano both held that faith and hope persisted in saintly souls until the Last Judgment. Counter to this, the constitution affirms moreover that these theological virtues disappear when faced with the vision of the divinity. At his return, will Christ find faith on earth? He will no longer even find it in Heaven. Finally, the bull affirms that the vision before and after the Last Judgment will be identical for those souls accessing it, without pronouncing on any possible increase in intensity. This does not

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exclude the need for such a final judgment in the presence of resurrected bodies as is affirmed at the end of the constitution, which also settles the fate of the damned. As with the vision, their sufferings too could not be deferred until the Last Day: We define yet what happens then: according to the general order of God, the souls of those guilty of an act of mortal sin will descend immediately after death into hell to suffer infernal punishment, and nevertheless on Judgment Day all men will appear with their bodies before the tribunal of Christ, to attest to their personal acts so that each might be rewarded in his body according to his having done good or evil.

If God’s mercy allows for a purification of sinners, his justice is ruler straight, allowing no delay in the torment of damned souls or in the torment of their resurrected body from the day of the final judgment. Still, was this doctrinal rigour of dogma’s definition incompatible with Jacques Fournier’s daring reflection on the Beatific Vision in his time as cardinal?

The Originality of Jacques Fournier’s Theses Concerning the Beatific Vision as a Private Theologian Fournier’s originality is primarily demonstrated in his treatises collected in the Vatican manuscript lat. 4006. 45 Copied and illuminated in Avignon, this beautiful manuscript contains his two theological treatises. The first, entitled Decem Questiones in Durandum, contains the report made on the articles of accusation of Durand de Saint-Pourçain. In the manuscript, this work follows the edition of the treatise of the bishop of Meaux. The second work constitutes Fournier’s original report composed at the request of John XXII. In this, entitled De Statu Animarum Sanctorum ante Generale Judicium, we find a private theologian’s doctrine which the cardinal and future pope elaborated during the first few months of the controversy. The margins of the manuscript especially carry traces of revisions made at the time of its definitive copying at the beginning of Benedict’s pontificate. Still, the essence of the doctrine was not altered by the dogmatic definition, and treatises III and IV contain the heart of his theological argumentation, 45 BAV, MS Vat. lat. 4006. The theological and homiletical works of Jacques Fournier are accessible online: http://www.bvh.univ-tours.fr/Consult/index.asp?numfiche=162&numtable =XVatLat4006.

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which dealt essentially with an augmentation of the Beatific Vision at the Last Judgment. From the start, treatise III distinguishes not two but three judgments. Indeed, it adds God’s def initive judgment of the angels, good and evil, rendered by Him at the moment of their eternal choice. This third choice is added over and above the two more usual judgments: the final judgment on one hand in which all men will appear with their bodies; and the other individual, private judgment of each soul at the separation from the body by death. This distinction inspires a meditation on the mystery of grace. Why is it given to some and denied to others who seem no less worthy? Why was the fall of the rebel angels considered final while men, subject to so many disordered desires, retain the freedom to convert up until the very end? Why does God allow so many of the baptized to be released from original sin who will then lose themselves by a mortal sin, while others who would have made better use of baptism’s benefits are not even given the sacrament? But, to return to the different judgments, let us say briefly that while affirming the justice of a private, separate judgment, Jacques Fournier takes seriously John XXII’s question: What good would be two judgments? This question can be reformulated as follows: What does the final judgment add to the vision of the blessed if they already enjoy it as soon as their souls are sufficiently purified? It is a question of seeing whether souls separated from their bodies see the essence of God, as well as the realities they know through this essence, as perfectly before the final judgment as they will see it afterward, in order to be able to show from this the convergence of many teachings of the saints. 46

To this question, Fournier, hoping to harmonize many different authorities gathered for and against the thesis of his predecessor, provides an answer which can be divided into three parts: a. Happiness grows greater even before the final judgment, be it only by the Resurrection which extends to bodies and to the mystical body in its entirety, the happiness enjoyed by souls separately until that time. 46 ‘Deinde videndum est an eque perfecte anime exute corporibus, Dei essentiam videant et illa que per divinam essentiam cognoscuntur ab eis ante generale iudicium, sicut post visure sunt, ut ex hoc multa dicta sanctorum ad concordiam reduci possint’, Jacques Fournier, De statu animarum sanctorum ante generale judicium, MS Vat. lat. 4006, fol. 54a.

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We must understand here that it is not the judgment that brings the increase in happiness. Jacques Fournier does not hesitate to take up the argument of Augustine (De Genesi ad Litteram, XII: 35): the desire of separated souls to rule over their bodies distracts a part of their attention from fully concentrating on the blessed vision of the divine essence. 47 But he does not follow John XXII, who deduced from that point the absence of any Beatific Vision. Rather, he begins a psychological reflection on a possible rivalry between the different powers of attention to a given subject. Is it not so that we perceive more clearly if only one sense is used at a time? Someone thinking of something else does indeed hear what is said to him, but he does not memorize it.48 As a disciple of both Augustine and Bernard, Fournier insists on the competition between two appetites: As these two appetites are found in saintly souls separated from their bodies, that is on one hand the will to see the divine essence, and it is in this vision that happiness lies, which is desired by all rational and intellectual creatures with a natural desire, and on the other the appetite no less natural which is also in them to rule their own human body and to vivify it since it is part of man’s nature; since these two appetites do not tend toward the same end nor are subject to the will since they are natural desires, and that the desire to rule the body is still less subject to the will than that of seeing God, it is inevitable that the desire to rule the body restrains the soul in some way from its effort to bring all its attention to the vision of God, prevents it from seeing Him perfectly, as it would see Him if its effort to see God was not restrained by such an appetite. 49

As we can see, Fournier’s university training brings him to specify that the two desires are natural. He subscribes to Thomas’ idea which holds that the 47 Ibid., fol. 61a. 48 Ibid., fol. 61b. 49 ‘Unde, cum isti duo appetitus sunt in anima sanctorum separati; scilicet velle videre divinam essentiam, in cuius visionem beatitudo consistit, quam naturaliter omnes creature rationales et intellectuales desiderant; sit etiam in ea appetitus naturalis corpus proprium humanum administrandi et vivif icandi, quia pars hominis naturaliter est; cum isti duo appetitus non tendant ad idem, nec subjaceant simpliciter voluntati, cum sint naturales, et minus appetitus corpus administrandi voluntati subjaceat quam appetitus Deum videndi; opportet quod appetitus corpus administrandi impediat aliquo modo conatum anime, ne tota intentione feratur ad videndum Deum; qui appetitus quantum impedit mentis attentionem ad Deum videndum, tantum impedit ne anima Deum perfecte videat, sicut ipsamet videret si per talem appetitum eius intentio Deum videndi non impediretur’, ibid., fol. 61b–c.

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desire to see God is the natural desire of any rational creature, and even its final end. This notwithstanding, the desire to rule the body is no less natural (quite to the contrary, according to the Cistercian cardinal, since it is less subject to the will than the desire to see God). Death, separating the body from the soul, is the last violence against which the soul protests by aspiring to be reunited with the body by the Resurrection. It is only when the soul reunites with the glorified body that the antagonism between these two natural desires – which, up to that point had kept part of its attention from the blessed vision – will cease.50 This imperfection does not only concern the intelligence’s vision but also the love that the will can give to God.51 In this way the cardinal, developing his analysis of Bernard’s treatise on the love of God, brings the imperfect vision of separated souls to the second of the three degrees of contemplation. He distinguishes these degrees by Bernard’s exegesis of the verse from the Song of Solomon (5: 1): ‘Eat, O friends; drink, yea, drink abundantly, O beloved.’ Solid food is necessary to souls who are yet in their bodies and suffer on the path here below. Saintly souls who by death have returned to their heavenly homeland can begin to drink the nuptial wine, but still mixed with the milk of their desire for the body. To enter into perfect drunkenness all their self-love, specifically what remains of their legitimate and natural desire to rule over their bodies, must be absorbed into their love of God. Fournier describes the knowledge, now infallible, of the blessed as they see in God, but also through their glorified senses and intellects, creatures no less resplendent.52 He insists particularly on the immediate nature of such knowledge of creatures, wherein the intellect reaches perfection and thus gives no less an intuitive access to God’s power and wisdom. Fournier suggests that this knowledge of the resurrected body brings something more, not only to their knowledge of creatures but even to that of God. Glorified souls were to be content in contemplating him by the mere intellect which, though already illuminated in glory, was still separated. A more perfect knowledge of God derives from a more perfect knowledge of his creatures.53 Jacques Fournier, without explicitly taking sides in a dispute that arose periodically since Augustine, and in particular during the Carolingian renaissance, does not exclude a vision of God by the corporal senses: 50 Ibid., fol. 61c. 51 Ibid., fol. 62b, where an important marginal addition refers to Bede in order to suggest that the perfect sincerity of souls can only occur after the final Resurrection. 52 Ibid., fol. 63a. 53 Ibid.

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For this reason, happiness itself which is the good by which all desire of the rational creature is fulfilled, will be then more perfect, since not only one’s soul will attain the perfect vision of God, but also it will have certain knowledge of God by the body. It is then that the heart and the flesh will exult in the living God.54

And yet all this further jubilation, as well as the perfecting of the vision of God which constitutes the essence of happiness, is not sufficient to make the soul forget other legitimate desires which, this time, cannot be fulfilled simply by the resurrection of the body. The desire to know the hidden intentions of hearts remains yet another obstacle to full happiness of separated saintly souls, just as it can prevent happiness here below: Insofar as many aforesaid ills and many others which Augustine reviews in the following chapters happen because of the ignorance of the worthiness or unworthiness of men and because secret thoughts and intentions in the heart remain hidden, while such ills would not take place if men knew their own merits or demerits and those of others, as well as many of the secrets of their own hearts and those of the hearts of others. Thus justly and legitimately the good can and must want to know these secrets with certainty and could not be fully and totally happy while they have not such knowledge which they cannot attain until the Last Judgment.55

How many misjudgments of the innocent, how much suffering resulting from betrayal could be avoided by the knowledge of intentions hidden in the heart? Fournier’s anxiety is perceptible. It should also be underlined that not only the secrets of others, but also those of our own heart remain hidden until the final judgment. It is as though the Socratic ‘know thyself’ could only be fully effected at the Last Judgment. Thus Fournier conceives 54 ‘Propter quod et beatitudo que est totum desiderium creature rationalis saciat, tunc erit perfectior quando non solum anima immediate perficietur Dei visione, sed etiam per corpus certam de Deo cognitionem habebit. Tunc enim et cor et caro exultabunt in Deum vivum’, ibid. 55 ‘Cum igitur ex ignorantia meritorum et demeritorum hominum et occultatione secretarum cogitationum et intentionum cordium, supradicta mala et multa alia, que in subsequentibus capitulis deducit Augustinus contingant que non essent, si homines scirent sua et aliorum merita et demerita, et tam suorum cordium, quam aliorum secreta. Idcirco juste et bene possunt et debent boni velle quod talia certitudinaliter sciant, nec sunt ad plenum, et totaliter beati quousque hoc habeant, quod non asecuntur usque ad judicium generale’, ibid., fol. 59a.

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of separated saintly souls as capable of already enjoying essential happiness which consists in the vision of God, but incapable of its fullness since they still desire to know secrets as yet unrevealed to them and which cannot be before the Last Judgment.56 In these conditions, neither the souls of saints nor angels can be satisfied according to an Augustinian or a Boetian definition of happiness as an aggregate of all goods as long as a legitimate but unfulfilled desire remains to any of them. And this is the case with their unsatisfied curiosity about the hidden secrets of the heart, the merits and demerits of rational creatures, which will be revealed only at the time of divine judgment. b. During the Last Judgment, called at that time ‘general’ (as opposed to ‘particular’), what is new is that the merits and demerits of each become public. The light of truth borne by the divine gaze upon the life of each can only confer a new joy upon the good. And yet this secret of hearts must remain until the final judgment. This is fitting, be it only to protect each individual from that despair or presumption into which he might fall were he to know beforehand if he were saved or damned.57 Would not those who knew themselves destined for Hell fall into yet graver sins? And would not those who knew themselves to be definitively saved have a tendency to relax their efforts and fall into other sins as well? At the judgment that which had been hidden will appear in full light. Until that time, the souls of the just can have no knowledge of the secrets of the heart save that which Christ wished to reveal to them. In this way they remained under his humanity. The Cistercian cardinal offers an interpretation of Bernard’s exegesis of Apocalypse 6: 9 which is both subtle and quite different form John XXII’s: In this wise the words of Bernard mentioned above must, as I believe, be understood in such a way as is meet and without contradiction, that is to say until the Day of Judgment saintly souls will remain under the humanity of Christ since it is by this intermediary that God will reveal to the holy angels and to men that which will be seen by them concerning their salvation, which men cannot attain in fullness in the absence of their body, and concerning their solicitude for the salvation of other men which they desire and for which they pray God for without cease. But, after the Final Judgment, since all these secrets will be made manifest by God or in the essence of God, to all the blessed, it will no longer be said of the 56 Ibid., fol. 59b. 57 Ibid., fol. 56c.

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holy that they are under the Humanity of Christ, but immediately under God Himself through whom they will know without any intermediary.58

Fournier upholds reflections concerning God, ‘all in all’ after the Last Judgment. At that time souls ascend above the altar of his humanity without diminishing the reign of Christ.59 Simply, the mediation of his humanity is no longer required and a new aspect of his divinity becomes manifest – for, at the very moment in which the merits and demerits of each are revealed, the judgment that God brings to bear upon him appears, and so also whether he be saved or damned. This means for the blessed a new understanding of God not only in his essence or in the Trinity, but indeed also in his creative act, his eternal will and his wisdom unfolding his foreknowledge of the damned and the predestination of the elect. At this time, through the vision of God, it is not only the natural realities that will be known, but through this same vision will also be known the will of God and His eternal decision to damn or to save each rational and intellectual creature. There will then remain nothing else which might diminish the perfect knowledge of all things constituting perfect happiness for the rational and intellectual creature, which corresponds to full perfection of happiness.60

The revelation of the economy of salvation then perfects knowledge of the divine essence in unfolding benevolent wisdom. From that moment nothing more can be added to the happiness of the elect. Thus, at the Last Judgment, the revelation of God’s saving will completes their blessed vision. It must 58 ‘Et hoc modo videtur michi quod convenienter et sine aliquam contrarietatem verba Bernardi supradicta intelligenda sint, scilicet quod usque ad diem judicii, sanctorum anime erunt sub Christi humanitate, quia mediante ipsa revelabit Deus sanctis angelis et hominibus illa que ei videbuntur circa salutem ipsorum quam homines nondum plene propter defectum corpore consecuti sunt, et cura aliorum hominum salutem, quorum salutem desiderant et pro ipsa obtinenda Deum incessanter orant, sed post generale judicium, quia omnia talia secreta omnibus beatis manifestabuntur per Deum vel in Dei essentia dicentur non esse sancti sub Christi humanitate, sed immediate sub Deo, per quem omnia immediate cognoscent’, ibid., fol. 73d. 59 Ibid., fol. 73c. 60 ‘Tunc enim, quando non solummodo viso Deo, cognoscentur rerum nature, sed etiam viso ipso cognoscetur Dei voluntas et propositum eternum de dampnandis vel salvandis rationabilibus vel intellectualibus creaturis, nichil latebit quod possit diminuere perfectam cognitionem omnium rerum ad perfectam beatitudinem rationalis vel intellectualis creature pertinentium, quod est de beatitudinis plena perfectione’, ibid., fol. 59d.

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be understood, though, that it is only after the judgment takes place that the soul reaches its ultimate fulfilment. c. For only then the created intelligence can perceive the synthesis of these divine judgments which appears after the general judgment and reveals the eternal wisdom directing divine prescience and predestination. Only then will the books which contain it, spoken of in the Apocalypse, be opened. This time, beyond individual destinies, it is a question of the very meaning of History which cannot appear in any definitive way except at the moment in which it is finished by its re-absorption into eternity. From this point, the future pope deduces a deepening of the understanding of God and His essence which is the very origin of the judgments borne by his wisdom and his merciful love. First, the essence of God is seen, but without such a vision giving knowledge of what His prescience, His predestination, His design, and His arrangements set aside for all things. For in science, we know a principle better when several conclusions derive from knowing it […]. We more fully know a cause when from knowing it derives the understanding of several of its effects […]. We more perfectly understand an artist’s art when we perceive in this art not only this art itself but also the artistic processes used to this effect, as well as the aim and the will of the artist in his action on each of the elements relating to his art, more than when was known only his art and nothing of its courses of action or the aim and the will of the agent.61

We have already analysed the three analogies offered here – of art, of physical causality, and of the logical principle deduced by its effects. Let us say that once they have entered into eternity after the judgment, the blessed can plumb the depths of divine knowledge and its will to merciful love. The cardinal spoke of the mystery of the suffering just and of grace given to those who disdain it and not given to others. This appears to mortal eyes as absurd but makes sense in light of the unfathomable divine wisdom, of 61 ‘Dum sic divina essentia videtur, quod eius presciencia et predestinatio, consilium et ordinatio, de omnibus rebus ex tali eius visione non habetur. Clarius enim principium cognoscitur in scientiis, cum eo cognito plures conclusiones […]. Plenius etiam cognoscitur causa, cum ipsa cognita, plures eius effectus cognoscuntur […]. Perfectius etiam cognoscitur ars artificis, quando cognoscitur in eius arte, non solum ipsa ars, sed et modus agendi artificiata in ea et propositum et voluntas agendi artificis illa que ad artem pertinent, quam si solum eius ars cognosceretur, ignotis modis agendi et proposito et voluntate agentis’, ibid., fols 60b–c.

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the predestination of the elect which accords with His justice and with the prescience of the damned. Individual suffering, along with the history of collective fates, cannot make sense before this gaze into the unfathomable divine wisdom. The elect will know an increased happiness at the judgment. This will be the final increase, since henceforth nothing will be hidden any longer.62 Those who already gazed upon the divine essence see ever after the meaning of universal history. They will draw forth a renewed understanding of that essence that is the principle from which meaning flows. The Cistercian cardinal who became pope remained absolutely discreet about his grandiose theology of f inal ends, since nothing of it appears in the constitution Benedictus Deus. In conclusion, Benedict XII is a singular character: a Cistercian pope of modest origin, he played an essential role not only in the construction of the new papal palace in Avignon, the Collège des Bernardins in Paris, and in the reform of religious orders, but also in the elaboration of the Church’s doctrine of the Beatific Vision. ‘Light of the Sacred Palace’, his theological intelligence drafted an original conception of final ends. Still, diplomatically, his Benedictus Deus proclaimed early in 1336 adheres closely to the elements that prelates unanimously agreed upon for its preparation. Benedict XII thus left open the question of the increase in happiness from the individual judgment to the Last Judgment and beyond, the point on which his theological ideas were the most original. Christian Trottmann, Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique

62 Ibid., fol. 61a in margin.

4. A New Seat for the Papacy: Benedict XII, Avignon, and the Comtat Venaissin1 Valérie Theis

Abstract The pontificate of Benedict XII is mostly associated with his work of theological and institutional reform and with the probity, even rigidity, with which he governed the Church. Another essential dimension of his reign deserves to be re-examined: that which consisted in officially making Avignon the new seat of the papacy, and to extend the work of his predecessor consisting of strengthening the pontifical institution by providing it with a solid local anchorage. This chapter therefore presents two inseparable dimensions of Benedict XII’s policy: his work to give the Church a new administrative centre with the new palace at Avignon; and its efforts to control the Comtat Venaissin that provided the institution with the resources and calm needed to develop the Church’s temporal policy on a wider scale. Keywords: Avignon papacy, Benedict XII, Apostolic Palace, Comtat Venaissin, temporal policy of the papacy

In his role as inquisitor, Jacques Fournier has long interested historians. Yet strangely, in his later role as pope under the name Benedict XII, he has attracted far less attention than the other Avignon popes.2 Benedict is most often credited with settling the dispute over the Beatific Vision at its 1 This chapter was translated by Vicki-Marie Petrick. 2 Fournier’s inquisitorial work was noted as early as 1906 in J.-M. Vidal, Le tribunal d’inquisition de Pamiers (Toulouse, 1906). These studies were enriched by those of Duvernoy, JF. See also, J. Paul, ʻJacques Fournier inquisiteur’, in La papauté d’Avignon et le Languedoc (1316–1342), CF, 26 (1991), 39–67. See Elizabeth Sherman’s Chapter 1 in this volume.

Bueno, Irene (ed.), Pope Benedict XII (1334–1342). The Guardian of Orthodoxy. Amsterdam University Press, 2018 doi: 10.5117/9789462986770_ch04

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height in the early years of his pontificate, and for standing up against the most glaring forms of nepotism which were rightly associated with both Clement V (1305–1314) and John XXII (1316–1334).3 On the other hand, his local directives, although far from being simple anecdotes in the papacy’s institutional history, are nearly always left aside. In this regard, Clement V is always cited concerning the choice of Avignon as a papal seat. This precarious installation, however, was only decided four years into his pontificate with the specific goal of preparing for the Council of Vienne (1311). Was this really more important for the papal institution than Benedict’s decision to make the palace at Avignon officially the new seat of the papacy in 1336? In the same vein, the palace, as we know it today, is most often and primarily associated with his successor, Clement VI (1342–1352), who ensured the financing and supervision of the entire southern half of the palace where the grandest rooms and most remarkable iconographical programmes are located. However, the paradox remains of the simple vision of Benedict as an austere Cistercian while at the same time creating the conditions to promote the gigantic building campaign for the papal palace. Indeed, as we shall see, Clement VI was by no means the first pope to have distinguished himself by his considerable expenditure. The historiography recognizes Benedict XII’s doctrinal and political rigour which is generally associated with his training both as monk and as inquisitor. This recognition, however, is often only a prelude serving to show how this particular pope did less to advance the power of the institution than John XXII and less for its magnif icence than Clement VI. Still, in looking more closely at Benedict’s policies, we may well ask if his relatively retiring stance (which surely contributed a good deal to the image that contemporary and ancient historiography constructed of him) can rather be attributed to a certain mode of political art than to his incapacity to be a pope of the stature of the two other sovereigns who frame his pontificate. In an overall account of Benedict’s pontificate, at no point did he break with the larger fiscal directives and policies of John XXII. And, in examining his local initiatives, one is struck by how clearly he adhered to the choices of his predecessor. Indeed, even if John XXII was the first to plan the papacy’s move to Bologna, he was nevertheless a man deeply rooted in the Midi whose lifestyle and networks belie the image of a pontiff willing and able to bring 3 Trottmann, La vision; Mollat, Papes d’Avignon, 76–7; Guillemain, Cour pontificale, 185. For a more recent overview on the Avignon papacy see Rollo-Koster, Avignon. Regarding Benedict XII’s pontificate see ibid., 56-62.

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about the return to Rome.4 And yet John never took entire responsibility for the decision to remain in Avignon for eighteen years. Publicly his discourse feigned to regret the distance from the Eternal City, and he contented himself with simply occupying the bishop’s palace at Avignon, minimally modified for the needs of the Curia. At the same time he positioned himself in the existing city centre by means of a fairly brutal requisitioning policy.5 According to a legend recorded in the fifth Life of the pope compiled by Étienne Baluze, John had sworn to mount neither horse nor mule unless it was to return to Rome. Despite this putative declaration, the fact that his letters were dated from Avignon for the whole of his pontificate, whatever the reality of his travels in and around the city, is indicative of the unease surrounding the question of the curial residence.6 At the beginning of his pontificate, Benedict XII too had pondered how opportune an Italian homecoming might be. Contrary to his predecessor, however, he had no qualms about publicly suffering the consequences of the plan’s failure, and developed an opposing strategy by formally declaring that Avignon would henceforth be the new official seat of the papacy. His initiatives, however different, easily rivalled those of his predecessor in canniness, and made the institution’s position perfectly clear as well as facilitating future planning. At the same time, he attempted to break with certain practices which might have harmed the image of the Church in the days of Clement V and John XXII. These left too large a margin for manoeuvre for the pontiff’s entourage, and placed the financial and political welfare of the papacy before spiritual matters and practices. So, while any kind of vindication of Benedict XII’s policies would be a senseless exercise at best, examining the mechanisms behind his choices and concentrating in particular on his strategies for solidly fixing the papacy in the region of Avignon could serve a purpose. To this end we will first attempt to address the conditions in which a commitment of such great import to the institution were elaborated, while reviewing in detail the failure of an alternative approach – to wit, a return to Italy. We will then examine the main consequence of this failure, that is, the creation of a papal palace in 4 V. Theis, ‘De Jacques Duèse à Jean XXII: la construction d’un entourage pontif ical’, in Jean XXII et le Midi, CF, 45 (2012), 103–30. 5 M. Dykmans, ‘Les palais cardinalices d’Avignon: un supplément du XIVe siècle aux listes du Dr. Pansier’, Mélanges de l’École française de Rome: Moyen Âge–Temps modernes, 83/2 (1971–72), 389–438; A.M. Hayez, Les livrées avignonnaises de la période pontificale, 3 vols, Mémoires de l’Académie de Vaucluse (1992), i, 93–130; (1993), ii, 15–57; (1994), iii, 33–89. P. Pansier, Les palais cardinalices d’Avignon aux XIVe et XVe siècles, 3 vols (Avignon, 1926–32). 6 Baluze, Vitae, i, 177.

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Avignon. Finally, we will observe how a lasting implantation of the Curia in Avignon led Benedict XII, in the footsteps of John XXII, to enact a more global strategy of controlling the space and the populations of the regions surrounding Avignon.

Return to Italy, But Where? Even today, many Italian authors still insist that the papacy’s primary goal was the return to Rome and that the residence in Avignon could only ever have been intended as temporary. However, this certainty often contrasts with the weak interest shown by the popes in taking measures to make such a return possible.7 It was not until 1330 – that is to say, fourteen years after his election – that the rumour spread of John XXII’s preparations for a return to Italy, specifically to the city of Bologna.8 It was at this point that Bertrand du Pouget, who had for years been employed in the political subjugation of Bologna, began work on a palace capable of accommodating the pope and his court.9 In June of 1332 John officially announced his plan to relocate to Bologna.10 By August he had deferred this decision, arguing the city’s insufficient safety.11 He attempted to send the bishop of Embrun, Bertrand de Déaux, to restore order and support the efforts of Bertrand du Pouget, but this appears to have had the opposite effect. In March 1334, the population of Bologna rose up against the legate, calling for members of the Curia to be put to death, and, more generally, anyone then present in 7 E. Castelnuovo, ʻBologna come Avignone’, in La cattedrale tascabile: scritti di storia dell’arte (Livorno, 2000), 304–10, at 304, ʻi papi non risiedono più in Italia, ma aspirano a ritornarvi e non vedono in Avignone che una residenza provvisoria, di fortuna’ (‘The popes no longer reside in Italy, but aim to return there and they do not regard Avignon as anything other than a temporary, occasional residency’); G. Benevolo, ʻBertrando del Poggetto e la sede papale a Bologna: un progetto fallito’, in Giotto e le arti a Bologna al tempo di Bertrando del Poggetto, ed. M. Medica (Milan, 2005), 21–35, at 21, ʻRiaprire la strada per Roma si prospettava dunque come un obiettivo prioritario.’ 8 Benevolo, ʻBertrando del Poggetto’, 29, referring to an anonymous letter to Alfonso IV of Aragon, in Acta Aragonensia, 553, no. 259 and mention of Petrarch’s somewhat later testimony. 9 H.W. Hubert, Der Palazzo Comunale von Bologna. vom Palazzo della Biada zum Palatium Apostolicum (Cologne, 1993). E. Castelnuovo and A. Monciatti, ʻPréhistoire du palais des papes’, in Monument de l’histoire: construire, reconstruire le palais des papes, XIVe-XXe siècle (Avignon, 2002), 116–21, 120–1. For the entirety of Bertrand du Pouget’s mission, see P. Jugie, ʻUn Quercynois à la cour pontificale d’Avignon: le cardinal Bertrand du Pouget (v. 1280–1352)’, in La papauté d’Avignon et le Languedoc (1316–1342), CF, 26 (1991), 69–95. 10 Benevolo, ʻBertrando del Poggetto’, 30, 35. 11 Ibid., 31, 35. Castelnuovo and Monciatti, ʻPréhistoire du palais des papes’, 120.

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the city who spoke the langue d’Oc.12 The palace built under Bertrand du Pouget was largely destroyed, and it took Benedict XII many long years to reach any kind of peace with the people of Bologna, all the while continuing to prosecute the rebels.13 Traditionally the literature has agreed with historians such as Enrico Castelnuovo and Alessio Monciatti in characterizing the early part of Benedict XII’s reign in terms of the plan to transfer to Bologna. Both refer to the pope’s promise ‘to leave Rome for Bologna on 1 October’ of that same year, a promise supposedly declared at a consistory which would have been held in July of 1335.14 Meanwhile, the pope’s correspondence includes a letter of 31 July 1335 addressed to the king of France, mentioning ambassadors on their way from Rome to ask the pope to visit their city as soon as possible in order to relocate his court there. The pope promised a response by the kalends of October.15 The coincidence of both dates and situations, as well as the fact that the Bologna palace had at this point already been partially destroyed by the rebels, implies that there had been a moment in which a return to Italy was under consideration at the beginning of Benedict’s reign, although it was essentially a question of a possible return to Rome, not of a transfer to Bologna. Though this pause for reflection may have been the only means to stall the ambassadors without openly offending them, it did go together with a building campaign begun by the pope in Rome. Starting in August 1335, Jean 12 Benevolo, ʻBertrando del Poggetto’, 32–3. The specifics of the assailants’ cry – ʻMoriatur legatus et illi de lingua Occana’ (‘Death to the legates and those of the Occitan language’) – as well as the excesses they perpetrated are described in a letter relating to the legal action by the pope against the rebels. See BXII: Communes, no. 5168, 2 January 1338. 13 Ibid., no. 6425. On 14 October 1338, the pope sent Guigo de San Germano to Bologna to represent him in the negotiations, the final accords being settled on 14 June 1340, no. 8241. See also BXII: Pays autres, no. 2186, 24 January 1339; no. 2928, 13 November 1340. On the financial damages owed by the city, ibid., no. 6424, 13 October 1338, and on the payment of damages BXII: Communes, no. 2831, 5 July 1340; no. 2916, 30 October 1340; and no. 3109, 28 June 1341. Benedict XII requested publication of the trial against the insurgents on 27 August 1339, ibid., no. 7530. 14 Castelnuovo and Monciatti, ʻPréhistoire du palais des papes’, 120. 15 BXII: France, no. 476, ‘Nuntiis namque Romani populi coram nobis et fratribus nostris in consistorio pridem proponentibus et allegantibus plures causas efficaces, quare deberemus Urbem, in qua nostri apostolatus sedem divina providentia statuit, et basilicas sacras Urbis ejusdem, ubi sanctorum requiescunt corpora visitare, ac instanter et suppliciter a nobis petentibus ut illuc vellemus cum curia nos transferre’ (‘For the envoys of the Roman populace having claimed and alleged some time ago in the consistory, before us and our brothers, several convincing reasons according to which we should visit Rome, where Divine Providence has fixed the seat of our apostolate, and the sacred basilicas of the City, where lie the bodies of saints, and whither we have requested repeatedly, and begging, to transfer us with the Curia’).

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Poisson (Piscis), brother of Pierre Poisson, chosen by the pope to head the construction of the palace in Avignon, was named to supervise repairs not only to the basilicas of St Peter and St Paul but also to the papal palace in Rome, for which he was paid several thousand florins.16 The funds backing the construction may well have been from the first a way of disguising that the pope had never had any real intention of moving the Curia back to Rome. Even so, Benedict XII began at least to offer some token of good faith before deciding the following year to settle permanently in Avignon. This ‘legend’ that Benedict planned to leave for Bologna at the beginning of his pontificate simply does not reflect the tendency of many authors to conflate a desire to return to Italy with one to move to Bologna. It comes in fact from one of the lives of the Avignon popes compiled by Étienne Baluze. The first Life of Benedict XII, written by an anonymous French author at the end of the fourteenth century, clearly specifies that this pope had wanted to relocate the Curia in Bologna.17 He had sent nuncios to prepare for his arrival but they, however, had observed that the inhabitants of the city were still in a state of rebellion against the Roman Church, just as in the time of John XXII. The chronicle notes that upon the return of the nuncios the pope suffered at hearing the news but, declaring that he could not do otherwise, decided to stay in Avignon with his court.18 This early plan to relocate to Bologna may not correspond exactly to the content of the pope’s letters, but its declaration was a rhetorical stratagem. It allowed him to shift responsibility for the official choice of Avignon as the papal seat away from himself and project it onto a set of circumstances unfavourable to the papacy. The rebellion in Bologna was indeed an excellent reason for him to renounce this intention when it would have been less easy for the chronicler to explain why the pope had refused the offer of the nuncios who had come not from Bologna but from Rome. 16 See in the expense accounts for this trip as well as for the renovations, Schäfer, Ausgaben, 23. In the pope’s letters, Jean Poisson is named guardian and administrator for the altars of the basilicas of the Princes of the Apostles, starting on 26 October 1335, BXII: Pays autres, no. 638. The letters also reveal a trace of the money received, ibid., no. 787, 14 March 1336. 17 Baluze, Vitae, 196, ‘Ipse etiam papa eodem tempore [1335] deliberavit transferre curiam suam ad partes Ytalie moramque suam facere in civitate Bononiensi, dummodo ipsum debite et honorifice ejus incole et cives vellent recipere et tractare sibique obedientiam vellent prestare et fidelitatem servare’ (‘This same pope, in the same time (1335) also decided to move his court to Italy, and to stop in the city of Bologna, as long as its inhabitants and citizens were willing to receive him and treat him with proper honours and that they should be willing to swear an oath and serve him faithfully’). 18 Ibid., 197. See also V. Theis, ʻLa figure du pape bâtisseur dans les chroniques de Baluze’, in Monument de l’histoire, 30–4.

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By October 1335, Benedict XII had announced to the king of France that the reason he had put off the Roman ambassadors was the dissension caused by the debate within the consistory. Furthermore, even if in March of 1336 Bertrand de Déaux could boast of securing a truce between the Orsini and the Colonna, whose feud had caused so much unrest in Rome, the pope must have thought the peace too fragile to guarantee a safe return of the Curia.19 Thus, on 5 June 1336, Benedict XII published a bull requesting Pierre des Prés, cardinal-bishop of Palestrina (1320–1361), and Gozzio Battaglia, Latin patriarch of Constantinople (1335–1339), to proceed with the exchange of the bishop’s palace in Avignon for the nearby palace owned by Arnaud de Via. Arnaud’s death in November 1335 had allowed the bishop to move right next to the cathedral of Notre-Dame des Doms.20 The ceremonial exchange of palaces took place on 27 June 1336 under the aegis of Louis de Pierregrosse, acting as procurator to the Roman Church, and of Jean de Cojordan, the new bishop of Avignon (1336–1349).21 The text recounting the ceremony specified that the building, usually referred to as the episcopal palace, would henceforth and in perpetuity be named the Apostolic Palace.22 The exchange was described in detail: Louis de Pierregrosse first handed over to the bishop the keys to his new palace before, in turn, receiving from the hands of the prelate the keys to the former episcopal palace. The entire cathedral chapter, moreover, was asked to approve the transfer, while the pope was much concerned to ensure that he should be seen to be offering the bishop a new palace, aiming to soften the impression that the latter had simply been thrown out of his home before the papal take-over and improvements to his former residence.

Beginning Work on the New Apostolic Palace When the exchange took place, the construction at the papal palace was in fact already well underway. According to the first bull of June 1336, the very magnitude of the renovations justified the pope’s decision to take for 19 See BXII: France, no. 112, 28 October 1335 and BXII: Communes, no. 3964, 18 March 1336. 20 For Arnaud de Via’s death, see BXII: Communes, no. 276, 29 November 1335 and on the exchange of palaces, see BXII: France, no. 187, 5 June 1336. 21 Eubel, i, 126. 22 This text survives in its entirety in the bull of 1 February 1341 confirming the exchange, BXII: France, no. 805, ‘ita quod dictum hospicium quod episcopale vocari consueverat de cetero palacium apostolicum imperpetuum nominetur’ (‘Thus, that the hall which has habitually been called “episcopal” be, henceforth and forever, called “apostolic palace”’).

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granted his ownership of the palace. Already in May 1335, the new head of construction had been named as such in the accounts of the Apostolic Chamber.23 Not until the start of 1336, however, did he bear the title of ‘Master of Works or of papal buildings’.24 These records tell us also that he hailed from Mirepoix. The surviving documentation reveals that he enjoyed a fair amount of autonomy in organizing the renovations, since the details were recorded in Provençal in those account books that he either kept himself or had kept for him, and which he surrendered to the Chamber when relieved of his duties in 1337.25 Nevertheless, this withdrawal did not entirely eliminate him from the worksite.26 He seems instead to have lost some degree of general supervision while handing over administrative control of the site to the Apostolic Chamber27 Before this, he had succeeded in completing two elements essential to the new palace: a chapel sufficiently large to accommodate formal ceremonies, and a tower that would serve as the pope’s own chambers. The first surviving contract concerning the two spaces dates from 5 May 1335.28 This sizeable chapel, thirty-eight metres long by nine wide, had already been consecrated by 23 June 1336.29 As for the tower – called the ‘Great Tower’ or ‘Tower of the Treasury’ and later the ‘Papal Tower’ – it rose no less than forty-six metres high. It must have been completed in a mere two years since, by March 1337, payment for its roofing is recorded.30 The tower immediately came to the fore as the backbone of the new palace since the Lower Treasury, which stored precious objects, coins, and archival documents, was built above a 23 It was said, f irstly, ‘deputatus ad faciendum opera edif iciorum domus palacii papalis Avinionensis et specialiter pro opere capelle et turris de novo construendis’ (‘delegated to carrying out the work of the buildings of the of the domicile of the papal palace of Avignon, and in particular to the newly constructed chapel and tower’), ASV, Camera Apostolica, Introitus et Exitus (IE) 146, fol. 87. 24 ʻmagister operum seu edificiorum pape’ (‘Master of Works or of the papal edifices’), ibid., 150, fol. 79, 10 February 1336. 25 For the account books of Pierre Poisson see ASV, IE 147 (1335), IE 148 (1336), and IE 160 (1337). For their delivery to the Chamber, IE 164, fol. 88v, 21 December 1337, ʻpro ligatura librorum rationum redditorum per magistrum Petrum Piscis super operibus pape’ (‘for the binding of the account books by Master Pierre Poisson, concerning the papal works’). 26 Numerous mentions compiled by R. Lentsch in ʻLe palais de Benoît XII et son aménagement intérieur’, in La papauté d’Avignon et le Languedoc (1316–1342), CF, 26 (1991), 345–66, at 359–60. 27 V. Theis, ʻDécrire le chantier ou écrire le chantier? Titres et off ices dans les comptes de construction pontif icaux de la première moitié du XIVe siècle’, in Offices, écrit et papauté (XIIIe–XVIIe siècle), ed. A. Jamme and O. Poncet (Rome, 2007), 643–66. 28 D. Vingtain, Avignon: le palais des papes (Saint-Léger-Vauban, 1998), 98. 29 Ibid., 100–1. 30 Ibid., 101–2.

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cellar and was then topped by the Chamberlain’s Rooms, followed by the Papal Rooms, and finally the Higher Treasury.31 In parallel with this, by 1336 construction began on the wing of the so-called Papal Apartments starting in the east with the Great Treasury immediately next to the Lower Treasury, which under Benedict XII housed all the personnel in charge of the accounting writs of the Apostolic Chamber.32 The following year, the small Tower of the Study, located next to the Papal Tower, was transformed into a number of smaller rooms, allowing their users to retreat from the busier parts of the palace: the secret room on the same level as the financial services held restricted meetings that gathered around the chamberlain, while, above, the Vestry Chamber allowed the pope to vest himself with the ornaments of his office before making his entry into the consistory. On the top storey was the pope’s eponymous studium, once again constructed under Pierre Poisson at the beginning of 1337.33 On the other hand, historians are still debating whether work on the western part of the wing also dates from the start of 1337, as argued by Léon-Honoré Labande. Had it been at the end of the year, this would be one of the first projects launched under the auspices of Bernard Canelle, a clerk from the diocese of Narbonne who took over the direction of the building campaign in July 1337. He continued through the following year, although in a variety of different capacities since he acted as administrative comptroller and not as director of the building campaign.34 In this same wing was the ‘Dinette’ or Small Dining Room, where the pope dined with his entourage or with certain high-ranking guests whom he wished to honour. This first phase of the construction of the palace, conducted at remarkable speed, depended on the wide powers delegated to Pierre Poisson, who was himself responsible for the initial inspection of the teams working under him. For the patrons, this type of organization suffered from two major ‘drawbacks’. The f irst was that clerics of the Apostolic Chamber were empowered to conduct only secondary financial and administrative inspections, thus leaving considerable power in the hands of the head of the construction site. The second lay in the number of teams and partial sites that Poisson was able to coordinate independently. By 1337, the cumulated workforce had increased considerably; Roberte Lentsch estimates that Pierre 31 Ibid., 103–7, 121. 32 Ibid., 126–7. 33 Ibid., 132–6. 34 L.-H. Labande, Le palais des papes et les monuments d’Avignon au XIVe siècle, 2 vols (Marseille, 1925), i, 55; F. Piola-Caselli, La costruzione del palazzo dei papi di Avignone (1316–1367) (Milan, 1981), 71–2; Theis, ʻDécrire le chantier ou écrire le chantier?’, 651.

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Poisson had at that point 800 workers under his orders, 500 of whom were simple labourers.35 On the other hand, once Poisson stepped aside, the clerics and notaries of the Chamber returned in force, together with master workmen who were entrusted with either particular artisanal specialties or with specific zones of intervention in the palace. The Apostolic Chamber’s annual bookkeeping records leave an impression of reigning confusion, but this stems from the great many remarks recorded afterwards, so without any prior estimation by the head of construction. The new management allowed for greater control of expenses while also accentuating the multi-polar character of the construction site. At the end of 1337, one team of stonecutters was charged with building the so-called Conclave Wing, while another worked to demolish parts of the palace inherited from John XXII.36 This wing soon held a cellar, quarters for butlers and bakers, and on the top storey a guest room reserved for the most prestigious visitors. In 1338, work began on the Consistory Wing, and the same team undertook construction of the Latrine and Kitchen Towers. The Consistory Wing was completed by the end of the summer of 1339 and the Latrine Tower by that autumn, while the Kitchen Tower was ready by the end of the year. The hall where the conclaves of the pope and cardinals were held was located on the ground floor and crowned by a ‘Grand Dinette’ large enough to accommodate a considerable number of guests. Back against these two majestic halls was a little tower called the Chapel Tower because of the presence of two chapels, one atop the other, which each opened onto one of the great halls of the wing. It was only during the following pontificate, however, that these chapels were decorated and dedicated to a given saint, namely Saint-Martial and Saint-Jean.37 While the Consistory Wing went up, another team began building the Familiars’ Wing facing it toward the west. Construction began in July of 1338 but was only completed in 1341. As early as 1339 the wing was flanked to the north by the Bell Tower, itself finished in December 1340. This is also when work ended on the cloister, which consisted of a two-storey gallery linking all the spaces built in the northern part of the palace.38 The Tower of Trouillas, the final major phase of construction undertaken at the end of Benedict XII’s pontificate, was begun in January 1341. This 35 Lentsch, ʻLe palais de Benoît XII et son aménagement intérieur’, 351. 36 Vingtain, Avignon: le palais des papes, 152. 37 Ibid., 160–7. 38 Ibid., 174.

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tower closed off the palace at its northwestern end by the addition of a group formed by the Latrine Tower and the Kitchen Tower where previously a tower had stood in the time of John XXII. The tower could not have been completed before the death of the pope which occurred on 25 April 1342, by which time the third level had just been completed.39 The palace prison was built into the second lower level, and on the third was the Chamber of the Sergeants-at-Arms. The comparatively humble size of these apertures, together with the monastic and cloister-like two-storey corridors, has led authors on this subject to underline a possible parallel between the pope’s personality and career and his architectural choices for the palace. Roberte Lentsch, for one, writes that the pope moved ‘into his palace as though into a monastery, walking the length of austere corridors in his white Cistercian habit’.40 Clement VI’s majestically constructed spaces and architectural innovations did indeed inspire the epithet of ‘Old Palace’ for what had once been Benedict’s new palace. This must not, however, lead us to underestimate Benedict’s contribution to the first phase of construction and its importance for the papal institution. From a strictly functional point of view, the core elements of Avignon’s Papal Palace were conceived and fitted out during Benedict’s pontificate. Among these crucial spaces, he left aside only the Audience Hall, thinking that the one built under his predecessor John XXII would suffice. As for the rest, even if Clement VI’s Grand Chapel allowed both for greater crowds and unrivalled liturgical splendour, it did not disrupt the entire organization of curial services. 41 Nor should the beauty and magnitude of the iconographical programmes as imagined under Clement allow us to lose sight completely of Benedict’s efforts to render this new palace a proper setting for the advantageous display of the new Avignon seat. Of the areas painted at this point, many frescoes have suffered the effects of time or of later campaigns. In the frescoes from Benedict’s pontificate which have survived in the Papal Chamber, birds are portrayed after escaping from their cages, or perching in foliate scrollwork. In order to depict such scenes the painters made attempts at perspective, indicative in and of itself of the great attention paid to the ornamentation of the palace. Furthermore, even if the fresco programme may not be as elaborate as in the chapels of Saint-Jean or Saint-Martial, or as enigmatic as those of 39 Ibid., 168–9. 40 Lentsch, ʻLe palais de Benoît XII et son aménagement intérieur’, 352. 41 E. Anheim, ʻLa grande chapelle de Clément VI: les hommes, les lieux, les pratiques’, in Monument de l’Histoire, 123–9.

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the Stag Room, it nevertheless bears witness to the pope’s desire to use the palace decor as one of his means of communication. 42 The typically ‘Roman’ decoration of scrolled vines and foliage in the Papal Chamber openly declared to the prestigious visitors who were allowed entry the connection that the pope intended to make between Old and New Rome.43 Beyond the paintings, the care taken in the floor’s multi-coloured and decorated tiling might also point in this direction, as well as the interest in laying out large-scale enclosed gardens in the northeastern part of the palace. 44 So, as Roberte Lenstch rightly remarks, contemporary observers were not all under the clear and exclusive impression that Benedict XII should be characterized by the austerity of his lifestyle alone. Indeed, she quotes Jean La Porte d’Annonay, author of the second Life of Benedict XII compiled by Baluze, which reminds us of the pope’s colossal investments in the palace: ‘He stopped the torrent of Church expenditures, but not for long. For the house he undertook to build is great […]. He built it up from its foundations and expanded it in a stunning manner, spending an enormous treasure.’45 In any case, this considerable outlay secured stability for the different services of the papal court and, once the work was over, a serenity they had lacked for many long years. Under John XXII, the staff of the Apostolic Chamber, deprived of any attributed place within the bishop’s palace, was accommodated in the so-called Almshouse. Although right beside the cathedral, and hence in immediate proximity to the palace, none thought this an ideal situation for storing the institution’s oldest and most precious 42 E. Anheim, ʻUn évangéliste sur les bords du Rhône: la figure de saint Jean à la cour d’Avignon au milieu du XIVe siècle’, in Les humanistes et l’Église: pratiques culturelles et échanges entre litterati laïcs et ecclésiastiques (XIIIe–XVIe s.), ed. C. Caby and R.-M. Dessi (Nice, 2012), 175–226; Vingtain, Avignon: le palais des papes, 290–342, E. Anheim, ʻLa Chambre du Cerf: image, savoir et nature à Avignon au milieu du XIVe siècle’, in I saperi nelle corti/Knowledge at the Courts, ed. C. Arcelli, Micrologus, 16 (Florence, 2008), 57–124. 43 E. Anheim, ʻLe rinceau et l’oiseau: le décor de la chambre de Benoît XII au Palais des papes d’Avignon’, in La légitimité implicite, ed. J.-P. Genet, 2 vols (Rome, 2015), i, 359–74. 44 S. Gagnière, ʻContribution à l’étude du Palais des Papes: I. Les carrelages en terre cuite dans les constructions de Jean XXII, de Benoît XII et de Clément VI’, in Guide illustré d’Avignon (Avignon, 1963), 49–57; G. Démians d’Archimbaud and L. Vallaury, ʻLes sols: une ambiance colorée’, in Monument de l’histoire, 91–9; D. Carru, ʻNouvelles investigations nouveaux apports, la chapelle Saint-Jean, les Jardins’, in Petits carrés d’histoire: pavements et revêtements muraux dans le Midi méditerranéen du Moyen Âge à l’époque moderne, catalogue d’exposition, ed. H. Amouric, G. Démians d’Archimbaud, J. Thiriot, and L. Vallauri (Avignon, 1995), 72–6. 45 Lentsch, ʻLe palais de Benoît XII et son aménagement intérieur’, 359 and Baluze, Vitae, i, 212.

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archives.46 These vast new spaces in the heart of the palace reserved for the services of the Chamber were doubtlessly a deciding factor when Benedict began to concern himself with a part of the archives, stored at the convent of the Friars Minor in Assisi, and their restoration to the papal palace at Avignon. As early as October 1336, he had asked Bertrand de Déaux to go to Assisi. His task was to sort and make a first inventory not only of the treasures there but also letters of popes, kings, and princes, as well as of books concerning the rights and revenues of lands and provinces belonging to the Roman Church. The pope’s letter specified that Bertrand must make copies of these documents in order to send them to the rectors and treasurers of the provinces in question, as well as to the pope himself, and that he must gather these documents in solid, locked trunks so that no mishap might befall them. 47 Then, between November 1338 and September 1339, the pope ordered Jean Amiel to make a general inventory of the archives and to bring the most important to Avignon. 48 In Assisi, Amiel and his assistants, according to a new system of classification as well as new types of storage, transported those selected as most useful to the town of Montefalco, making a detailed inventory before having them sent to Avignon. 49 Upon their arrival on 30 April 1339, the archives were put into the hands of the treasurer of the Apostolic Chamber, Jacques de Broa. Then, on 4 June, Benedict requested that some be placed in his studium, a sign of the importance that they held for him. Endowed with reconstituted archival records, as well as vast spaces allowing for both working and hosting, the court of Avignon was not an apostolic court in name only. It was now finally and fully capable of offering true visibility to the institutional reconstruction that had been initiated by John XXII.

Beyond Avignon, a Local Society under Control Nevertheless, it was not only in Avignon itself that Benedict XII pursued his stabilization of the papacy. In the first eighteen years of his reign, John XXII devoted considerable effort to reform finance and administration of the 46 R. Lentsch, ʻLa localisation et l’organisation matérielle des services administratifs au palais des papes’, in Aux origines de l’État moderne: le fonctionnement administratif de la papauté d’Avignon (Rome, 1990), 293–312, at 290–1. 47 Letter dated 22 October 1336, BXII: Communes, no. 1126. 48 Ibid., no. 2043, 31 October, 1338. See also, Theis, Gouvernement, 86–8. 49 H. Denifle, ʻDie päpstlichen Registerbände des 13. Jhs.und das Inventar derselben vom 1339’, Archiv für literatur- und Kirchengeschichte des Mittelalters, 2 (1886), 1–105.

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papacy, and also to increase his control of the lands surrounding Avignon. It was in this territory of the Comtat Venaissin that he had built the only true papal palace of his pontificate in Pont-sur-Sorgue, to which Benedict XII moved in 1334 following his election in order to resolve the question of the Beatific Vision.50 John XXII had regularly enlarged his domains, particularly after the Hospitallers of St John of Jerusalem donated the entirety of their possessions and revenues in what was then the Comtat Venaissin or in its immediate surroundings.51 In spite of this, the northern part of the Venaissin remained a zone in which papal domain was still fragmented, and skirmishes between local lords interfered with the peace of the lands under papal control. By the spring of 1335, Benedict XII had asked the rector of the Comtat Venaissin to pursue John XXII’s struggle against the men making incursions into papal territory to the north of the Venaissin, and particularly in Valréas, Richerenches, and Grillon.52 The following year, however, he still had to reprimand Guichard de Poitiers and Hugonet Adhémar for their armed attack on Guillaume de Baux in the Venaissin.53 Such incidents occurred frequently, and the Dauphin’s invasion and occupation of Vienne in August 1338 did little or nothing to reassure the pontiff.54 In such circumstances, it is no surprise that Benedict XII should have lent an attentive ear to the Dauphin’s offer to sell him part of his domains. If he immediately refused the asking price of 452,000 florins, he was probably informed that the prince had proposed the same lands to Robert of Anjou in 1337 for the sum of 120,000 florins.55 The pope counter-offered 150,000 florins 50 Guillemain, Papes d’Avignon, 49–59; Guillemain, Cour pontificale, 234. L. Caillet, La papauté d’Avignon et l’Église de France: la politique bénéficiale du pape Jean XXII en France (1316–1334) (Paris, 1975); Theis, Gouvernement, 240–1; V. Theis, ‘Les stratégies d’implantation palatiale dans la région d’Avignon de Jean XXII à Clément VI (1316–1352)’, in Les palais dans la ville: espaces urbains et lieux de la puissance publique dans la Méditerranée médiévale, ed. P. Boucheron and J. Chiffoleau, Collection d’histoire et d’archéologie médiévales, 13 (Lyon, 2004), 165–87; A.T. Luttrell and T.F.C. Blagg, ‘The Papal Palace and Other Fourteenth-Century Buildings at Sorgues near Avignon’, Archaeologia, 109 (1991), 161–92. 51 C. Faure, Étude sur l’histoire et l’administration du Comtat Venaissin (1229–1417): recherches historiques et documents sur Avignon, le Comtat Venaissin et la principauté d’Orange (ParisAvignon, 1909), 33–43 and 204–7; Theis, Gouvernement, 174–92. 52 Under John XXII, see Lettres secrètes et curiales du pape Jean XXII, no. 3767, 7 February 1329; and under Benedict XII, BXII: France, no. 58, 24 May, 1335. 53 BXII: France, no. 147, 21 March 1336. 54 B. Galland, Deux archevêchés entre la France et l’Empire: les Archevêques de Lyon et les archevêques de Vienne du milieu du XIIe siècle au milieu du XIVe siècle (Rome, 1994), 567–71. 55 C. Faure, ‘Un projet de cession du Dauphiné à l’Église Romaine (1338–1340)’, Mélanges d’archéologie et d’histoire, 27 (1907), 153–225.

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on condition that there was an inquest to confirm that the whole amount of revenue he might expect from these new domains was in keeping with the Dauphin’s claim. Once the inquiry had established that the revenues had been vastly overestimated, negotiations ended in 1340.56 Benedict XII was forced to make do with acquiring part of the jurisdiction of Montélimar, resigning himself to the permanent tensions on the northern border of the Venaissin for the duration of his reign.57 If this attempt at expansion or even political stabilization in the north of the Venaissin was a relative failure, Benedict succeeded in his strategies to reinforce papal control of land and men in his charge within the borders of the Comtat. Indeed, the beginning of his pontificate coincided with an in-depth restructuring of the local administration, along with some important reforms and innovations in ways of managing the populace. Under John XXII from 1317 to 1334, a long-lived pair of administrators had governed the Venaissin, in the persons of the rector Arnaud de Trian and the treasurer Guillaume de Granhols.58 This latter is the treasurer to whom we owe the first continuous record of the local administration’s accounts for the years 1317–1326.59 Nevertheless, no trace of annual bookkeeping from the end of John XXII’s pontificate has survived. Furthermore, the sizeable sums due at the beginning of Benedict XII’s pontificate, together with the few facts established by these accounts once they were taken up again, leave an impression of reigning chaos in the offices of the rector and the treasurer. From this, the lack of information does not appear to result from a later loss of documents, but rather from the fact that the records were simply not noted as regularly and as carefully as they had been up until then.60 The first step in re-establishing order was to appoint a new rector, Pierre Guilhem, bishop of Orange since 1329 and rector of the Venaissin until his death in 1341.61 The choice was particularly interesting since it introduced to the region a prelate already well informed about the local situation, securing a connection between the Venaissin and the principal enclave still outside Benedict’s control, the Principality of Orange. Guilhem, as rector, recruited a treasurer, Pierre de Artisio, who had already distinguished himself as the 56 Ibid., 191–2. 57 Theis, Gouvernement, 197–9. 58 Faure, Étude sur l’histoire et l’administration, 176, 181–2. 59 Theis, Gouvernement, 68–75. 60 Ibid., 73 and 92–4. 61 Faure, Étude sur l’histoire et l’administration, 176–7.

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treasurer of the Patrimonium Sancti Petri.62 Given the position in October 1325, by 1327 he had already led a first reconnaissance mission in the Assisi archives. His aim was to remove all documents useful to the administration of the province entrusted to him, compiling a reference book for the use of the personnel of the rectorate.63 He became vice-rector of this province on 19 October 1329, and then rector from November 1330 to February 1333 before returning to Avignon to be named treasurer of the Venaissin by the Apostolic Chamber on 4 June 1334, in which office he remained until 1358.64 A team of experienced men was thus called upon to take in hand the management of papal revenues and the government of local populations. As soon as Pierre Guilhem and Pierre de Artisio arrived on the scene, the structure of administrative papal employment in the Comtat Venaissin underwent a profound transformation, although we cannot know to what extent the pair participated in the reforms as compared to the direct intervention of the Apostolic Chamber. From a partial account recorded at the turn of 1334–1335, during the transitional period between the pontificates of John XXII and Benedict XII, we know that a rector, assisted by a treasurer, constituted the Comtat’s leadership, while justice was represented by an individual called ‘chief judge’, or simply ‘judge of the Comtat’. The latter acted with the support of a judge of criminal and Greater Causes as well as of an appellate judge.65 A prosecutor and tax counsel also practised in the Venaissin in conjunction with a prosecutor for the Comtat Venaissin at the court of Rome. All of these men made up the central administration of the Venaissin, housed in off ices in the centre of Carpentras, which had been the administrative capital of the province since 1320.66 In the main cities magistrates represented pontif ical administration (one magistrate for Carpentras and Pernes, and one each for L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue, Mormoiron, Malaucène, Cavaillon, Valréas, Bollène, and Mornas). In others, only bailiffs or castellans were appointed (Monteux, Oppède, Saumane, Séguret and Sablet, and Caderousse). Finally, in all of the cities taxed by the papacy, the pope appointed a financial agent, the bursar, whose secondary tasks was 62 A. Jamme, ‘De la banque à la Chambre? Naissance et mutations d’une culture comptable dans les provinces papales entre XIIIe et XVe siècle’, in Offices, écrit et papauté, 226–7, for a very precise note on this subject. 63 For that part not already published by Theiner in P. Fabre, ‘Registrum curiae Patrominii Beati Petri in Tuscia’, Mélanges d’archéologie et d’histoire, 9 (1889), 299–320, 311–9 for the part dating from 1327. 64 Jamme, ‘De la banque à la Chambre?’, 227 and 238–9. 65 ASV, IE 141, fols 44–5. See also Theis, Gouvernement, 719–21. 66 Theis, Gouvernement, 278–87.

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to represent the papal presence on the ground, to host the most important officers during their circuit, and to enact the decisions of the rectorate or the Apostolic Chamber.67 In 1325–1326, the last year of John XXII’s reign for which we possess the list, there were thirteen bursars.68 At the arrival of the rectors and the treasurers, simple judges with purview limited to one judicature replaced the chief judge and his second in command, the judge of criminal and Greater Causes. From 1335 to 1337, an initial experimental system was installed, consisting of four judges – one each at Carpentras, L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue, Malaucène, and Valréas – always assisted by an appellate judge. Starting in 1337, the judge of Criminal and Greater Causes was reinstated, but only retaining three judicatures: Carpentras, L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue, and Valréas. Bearing the title of judge and magistrate, these officials held power over and above that of the former magistrates – together with higher pay of 100 florins, which restricted these offices to the highly competent.69 At the same time, the number of magistrates was significantly lowered, with only one regular magistrate each at Malaucène, Pernes, and Cavaillon – while at first hesitating to keep a magistrate at Monteux or Mormoiron. Certain among them were designated from one year to the next as bailiffs, or rather as castellan and bailiff.70 These back-andforth semantics give a fairly clear indication of the secondary role accorded these simple magistrates who, therefore, must not be confused with judges and magistrates proper. At an even lower grade, the role of the bursars, now numbering eighteen, was confirmed and reinforced in large part because in certain places, where the bailiff or magistrates had been phased out, they remained the only permanent representatives of the papal administration.71 Between the grant of higher salaries to the new judges and magistrates and the reinstating of a judge of Greater Causes, Benedict XII’s early reforms were not economic in nature. Since duties of the former chief judge were divided up and delegated to these other offices, duties which included long circuit tours, the waiting period for judging a case might have been shortened.72 This, however, was not the choice made by the rectorate, which 67 Ibid., 363–9, 379–81. 68 Ibid., 718. 69 Ibid., 338–9. For a broader vision, see J. Chiffoleau, Les justices du pape: délinquance et criminalité dans la région d’Avignon au XIVe siècle (Paris, 1984). 70 Theis, Gouvernement, 722–3. In 1337–1338, the account books mention a bailiff and a magistrate and a magistrate of Pernes (ASV, IE 141, fol. 145v). By the following year, this role disappears, replaced by a castellan and bailiff of Pernes (ASV, Reg. Av. 53, fols 347v and 377v). 71 Theis, Gouvernement, 723–4. 72 On the circuits of the judge of the Comtat, ibid., 288–91.

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continued to make twice-yearly appearances in each castrum of the Comtat. On the other hand, limiting both travel and the number of Assizes presided over by each judge did allow them to examine the cases at hand in greater detail since more time was available to them, a fact seemingly confirmed by the records of certain judges’ expenditures for field investigations.73 Furthermore, reducing the number of simple bailiffs and magistrates phased out mediocre middlemen who, nevertheless, retained a certain number of powers, which in turn reduced the risk that the said powers might be abused or contested.74 All that remained were badly paid bursars, lacking authority but firmly integrated in the local communities. Leaving these men in place had several advantages: they were available observers and representatives of power throughout the territory, and yet held no risk of furthering multiple appeals to higher courts.75 This streamlining, palpable on the ground, was similarly accompanied by the creation of records intended to give an account of rectoral administration to the Apostolic Chamber. From 1335, the internal organization of these books underwent a complete transformation; the entries were simplified and each sector’s results improved in transparency. Thereafter, each register began with an entry for payments in arrears. The treasurer recorded sums owed to the Chamber with payments overdue, whether fines or income taxes for papally owned domains. The bursars’ accounts were no longer recorded in two entirely different places, as they had been previously in the interest of separating revenues and expenditures. This change allowed for a clear view of each bursar’s annual balance sheet. Finally, the records of the yearly feudal revenues were put under one entry, whether the revenues came from the oldest pontifical domains or from the more recent Hospitallers’ donation. None of this had ever been achieved between 1317 and 1334.76 All in all, the united efforts of the new rector and treasurer of the Venaissin, together with those of the Apostolic Chamber, streamlined local administration the better to suit the real revenues owed to the pope and also truly improve upon the whole of the administration’s various structures. Administration by the rectors continued in this direction by improving episcopal management of congregations within the Avignon area. The best known of these operations first took place in the diocese of Avignon. Soon after Benedict’s election, he ended the system of leaving the episcopal see 73 74 75 76

Ibid., 340. Ibid., 272–3 and 343–51. Ibid., 351–69. Ibid., 397–9.

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vacant and under the control of a member of the Apostolic Chamber. The former practice gave the papal entourage a wider margin for manoeuvre by allowing greater access to territories outside the Comtat Venaissin but which belonged to the diocese of Avignon – such as Noves, Saint-Rémy, or Bédarrides.77 The Chamber’s treasurer, Gasbert de Valle, was thus removed and replaced by another vicar, Guillaume Audebert, a canon from Périgueux. Audebert was charged with the reform of churches only recently grouped together under the mensa episcopalis, where discipline had been much laxer during the pontificate of John XXII.78 This vicar was then replaced on 26 April 1336 by a true Avignon bishop, Jean de Cojordan.79 Although following the restoration of order in the diocese churches and encouraging significant efforts to bring in unpaid revenues owed to the mensa episcopalis, the appointment only superficially broke with customs under John XXII. On the one hand, the appointment of Jean de Cojordan did indeed give the diocese a real bishop. It did not, on the other hand, fundamentally bring into question the Apostolic Chamber’s guardianship of the diocese, as the same Jean de Cojordan had already been treasurer of the Chamber since January 1335.80 He was nevertheless assisted by a co-treasurer, Jacques de Broa, from December 1338 and would have had more time than Gasbert de Valle to take care of the business of his diocese since he remained in episcopal office there longer than in his role for the Chamber. He left Avignon only to become bishop of Mirepoix in 1349, whereas by May 1342, just after the end of Benedict XII’s pontificate, he was no longer treasurer.81 Comparing this career to those of other bishops in the Comtat gives a clear impression of how Benedict intended to position himself with regard to his predecessor’s policies. Evidently, the newer pope had no problem with reserving the Comtat’s episcopal seats for trustworthy men who were also his courtiers. In this he pursued the same path as John XXII. Thus, Rathier de Miramont, Benoît XII’s chaplain and a relative of Bertrand de Montfavet, became bishop of Vaison on 24 April 1335 through this custom of papal reservation, as did his successor, Pierre de Casa, appointed on 17 December 1341.82 The pope nevertheless expected them to pay detailed 77 Ibid., 563–8. 78 Letter dated 13 May 1335, BXII: France, no. 53. 79 Ibid., no. 1155. 80 Schäfer, Ausgaben, 6. 81 S. Weiss, Rechnungswesen und Buchhaltung des Avignoneser Papsttums (1316–1378): eine Quellenkunde, MGH, Hilfsmittel, 20 (Hanover, 2003), 95; Eubel, i, 126. 82 BXII: Communes, no. 2518. About his links with Bertrand de Montfavet, see Jean XXII: lettres communes, no. 17196, 13 April 1323. For Pierre de Casa, see BXII: Communes, no. 8452.

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attention to their dioceses. Pierre de Casa, by surrounding himself with other Limousin men such as Guillaume de Berengis, whom he made his prosecutor, began his term reminding the local elite of the importance of respecting episcopal privileges.83 Demanding such a commitment to local living conditions appears to have had an effect even on the bishops named under John XXII, since Hugues d’Angoulême, appointed bishop of Carpentras on 4 February 1332, pronounced new diocesan statutes on 23 March 1335, while Benedict XII continued steadily to confer a certain number of diplomatic missions upon him.84 Nevertheless, it would make for only a partial understanding to consider Benedict’s early attempts at reform as intended only to improve the efficiency of the officers attending the Chamber and, more specifically, to improve revenues in the domains of the Venaissin. It is also not sufficient to attribute to the pope the single goal of correcting the operations of episcopal churches, thereby affecting only the personnel dependent, in one way or another, upon papal power. Indeed, for Benedict the reforms were themselves intended precisely to aid not only the papacy but also to have positive repercussions for the people of the region. In going through the specific content of the different articles of the Comtat Venaissin’s statutes, it would be difficult to otherwise understand their recasting, completed during the general parliament of 13 February 1338.85 Indeed, as with other existing statutes in the different local communities of the Venaissin, it was nothing new in and of itself to establish statutes valid for the whole territory. The Comtat’s first statutes were pronounced in March 1275 and were the object of a vidimus under John XXII, dated 14 November 1321.86 The elaboration of these statutes, however, was very different in 1275 as compared to 1338. The first series of articles had been proclaimed by the rector Guillaume de Villaret and his seneschal in the presence of the bishops and principal nobles of the region who had been summoned for the occasion. This first text nowhere alluded to any participation of the people of the Venaissin or to interests they might have had in establishing such a text. Any consideration of this sort was clearly considered irrelevant. The text of 1338, on the other hand, begins by explaining the decision to establish statutes for communal 83 Theis, Gouvernement, 585–6. 84 J. de Terris, Les évêques de Carpentras: étude historique (Avignon, 1886), 375–6 and Jean XXII: lettres communes, no. 56357. See also on his career, Theis, Gouvernement, 577–8. 85 Carpentras, Bibliothèque municipale (Inguimbertine), MS 1746, fols 72v–74v; transcription of the text in Theis, Gouvernement, 739–45. 86 Transcription of these statutes in Theis, Gouvernement, 734–9 (Cavaillon, Archives communales, AA1, no. 13).

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use of the inhabitants of the Comtat. It furthermore divulges that certain local universitates had been requested to send representatives to draft them, one to represent the people and another the nobles, so that they could participate in the public parliament convened at Carpentras, the purpose of which was to proclaim the different articles of these statutes. Of course, all the prelates and nobles who held any jurisdiction in the Comtat had been invited, just as in 1275. Participation by representatives of the populace as in the stated goal of the common good might have been a mere façade. Yet the content of the statutes is striking for the place given to the means of improving the operation of local institutions for the good of the inhabitants. This obviously does not mean that statutes of this kind were always scrupulously observed in daily practice. Even if, however, these texts were not applied with exactitude, it remains no less important that their guiding principles represented a clear break with earlier practices and displayed a real ambition to better them. Indeed, among the sixteen promulgated articles, no fewer than eight new ones were focused on the closer management of local administrative officers. The first of these sixteen articles quite symbolically took up the annual nature of judicial appointments, whether they were ordinary, appellate, or even simple magistrates, bailiffs, or prison wardens. Even if it was self-limiting in specifying the powers of the pope to suspend, still the edict set forth a principle essential to limiting abuse of power. In contrast with what went on afterwards under Clement VI, in Benedict’s pontificate this measure was nearly always applied to judicial personnel, even if certain judges and magistrates were happy simply to change the judicature from one year to the next in order to give the impression of adherence to the statutes. The second article ordered those leaving office to remain ten days in the place over which they had exercised supervision in order to allow for a final inspection of their acts. The eighth article, moreover, requested that the judges should not step down suddenly so as to prevent procedural interruptions and hence significant expenses for those in trial. Officers were neither to proceed with any arbitrary seizure of property (fourth article) nor to take advantage of their charge in a given place in order to graze their flocks – unless they had been residents there entering office (fifth article). Receiverships should be limited and with good cause (ninth article); officers were not to seize foodstuffs without paying (tenth article), and were to swear to respect the statutes as a whole (seventh article).87 If such measures were certainly useful to all, these short statutes reveal the hand 87 Theis, Gouvernement, 741–3.

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of the merchant milieu. Here they succeed in reserving the right to restrict the circulation of merchandise within or beyond the Comtat exclusively to the pope or the general parliament (sixth article). To this disposition was added any previous statutory legislation aiming to control notarial acts or the usage of certificates of debt.88 In leaving certain decisions solely to the pope or to parliament, this sixth article also implied a future with a regularly convened general parliament of the Venaissin in order to settle major problems. If read in a negative light, the statute certainly opens a window onto unsavoury abuses which must have spurred complaints by community representatives. But, in the 1330s, political experiments leaving even the least margin for claims from the populace were so uncommon that this attempt should not be seen as a mere footnote, especially coming from a power very little given to negotiation. The convocation of parliaments gave public proof to the success of efforts made since John XXII to build an alliance between the papacy and local elites. Their participation in drawing up the general statutes had the advantage moreover of marginalizing purely local statutory undertakings developed by certain communities of the Venaissin whose autonomy had already been compromised by the importance of papal representatives in ordinary operations.89 So, to summarize, any attempt to assess Benedict XII’s greatest political contribution to the Comtat Venaissin must look to the papacy’s deeper control of local societies as one of the most important outcomes of his pontificate as well as to his predecessors and successors. John XXII considerably enlarged the territorial space of the Venaissin, while Clement VI crowned this construction of the domain by successfully establishing control over the city of Avignon, the key element of the papacy’s economic and political situation in the region. In contrast, the pontificate of Benedict XII was not distinguished by any major addition to papal lands. On the other hand, the pope’s efforts to improve conditions with regard to the government of the region, together with his attempts to limit the abuse of officers or clerical absenteeism, constitute without a doubt his principal achievement in the way of local politics. By accepting to hear, at least in part, the claims of local elites, papal administration just made its first step toward the development of a true political society. This brief overview of Benedict XII’s initiatives in Avignon and the surrounding region shows that in this respect his pontificate was anything but 88 Ibid., 372, rotation board of judicial personnel from 1335 to 1352. 89 Ibid., 663–80.

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a subdued one, remarkable only for its austerity and prudence. In matters of creating conditions for the development of papal institutions, Benedict XII revealed an unexpected breadth of vision. While putting into place the improvements necessary to polish the image of the papacy and its clerics or of its representative officers in the field, the pope did not hesitate to launch structural reforms. These were doubtlessly accepted with more or less enthusiasm by personnel used to an entirely different freedom of manoeuvre under John XXII and again under Clement VI. Yet Benedict’s directives can in no way be likened to a disavowal of those of his predecessor. While striving to eliminate abuses, his efforts adhered closely to those of the preceding pope, precisely as in the domain of fiscal policy, and more widely in regard to beneficial policies. Under his rule the goals of these policies also became more transparent; and this perhaps, more than anything else, gives some measure to the comparative distance there might be between the professionals of curial policy and the more distinct character of a former monk and inquisitor. Valérie Theis, École Normale Supérieure de Paris, IHMC (UMR 8066)

5.

In the Footsteps of St Peter: New Light on the Half-Length Images of Benedict XII by Paolo da Siena and Boniface VIII by Arnolfo di Cambio in Old St Peter’s Claudia Bolgia1 Abstract This chapter offers a new understanding of papal self-fashioning strategies between the late-thirteenth and the mid-fourteenth centuries. On the basis of hitherto neglected or misunderstood sources, it demonstrates that the original location of the half-length image of Benedict XII (1341) in Old St Peter’s differed considerably from earlier reconstructions. This prompts a reinterpretation of the sculpture’s original function and of the message that it conveyed about the role of the pope by materializing his presence in Rome at a time of contested absence. Furthermore, the reappraisal of monumental Petrine ‘presences’ in the basilica leads not only to revise the traditional reading of Arnolfo di Cambio’s half-length image of Pope Boniface VIII as associated with the papal tomb, but also to offer a new proposal for its original setting and function. These findings transform our knowledge of the pilgrim experience in Old St Peter’s, whilst throwing new light on the sacred topography of the most important basilica of Western Christendom. Keywords: Portraiture, sacred topography, papal authority, sculpture, St Peter, St Peter’s, Rome, Benedict XII, Boniface VIII, Arnolfo di Cambio, Paolo da Siena

1 I am grateful to Pietro Zander (Reverenda Fabbrica di San Pietro) for permission to study the image of Benedict XII ‘in the flesh’ and for his kind assistance in the search for some photographs deployed in the present contribution. This was completed while I was Samuel H. Kress Senior Research Fellow (2016–17) at the Center for Advanced Study in the Visual Arts (CASVA) in Washington DC. I am grateful to the Deans, the community of Fellows, the team of the Library Image Collections, and the staff for creating an intellectually engaging environment which was greatly conducive to research.

Bueno, Irene (ed.), Pope Benedict XII (1334–1342). The Guardian of Orthodoxy. Amsterdam University Press, 2018 doi: 10.5117/9789462986770_ch02

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‘He was a very corpulent man, and fat, and large, and red.’2 This less than flattering description of Benedict XII was, as the Roman chronicler known as the Anonimo Romano explicitly states, based on the actual half-length image of the Pontiff (Figure 1), located as it was in the most central of positions, above the main door on the inner façade of Old St Peter’s. Writing less than two decades after the portrait had been sculpted, the Anonimo could not be more specific on this point: ‘His accurate image was in St Peter’s, within the church, above the main door of the main nave.’3 On seeing the marble portrait, which by then had been removed to the Vatican Grottoes, the seventeenth-century Roman antiquarian Francesco Maria Torrigio similarly commented that the image of the pope, in the act of blessing and holding the keys, was ‘painted in red’.4 Surprising as it might sound, especially when looking at the surviving image, of dazzling white marble, the statement finds confirmation in the fact that the payment records attest to the contribution of a painter, responsible for the colouring of both the papal image and the Gothic aedicule ( fenestra) which framed it (Figure 2).5 2 Cronica: Anonimo Romano, ed. G. Porta (Milan, 1979), ch. vii.28, ‘Questo [papa Benedetto] fu omo moito corpulento e grasso e gruosso, roscio’. 3 Ibid.: ‘La soa figura de ponto stao in santo Pietro, dentro alla chiesia, sopre la porta maiure della nave maiure.’ See C. Bolgia, ‘Images in the City: presence, absence and legitimacy in Rome in the first half of the fourteenth century’, in Images and Words in Exile. Avignon and Italy during the First Half of the 14th Century, ed. E. Brilli, L. Fenelli and G. Wolf (Florence, 2015), 381–400, first presented at the international conference Images and Words in Exile: Avignon and Italy during the first half of the 14th century (1310–1352), Florence and Avignon, 7–11 April 2011. The Cronica (at least most of it) was probably written between the last months of 1357 and the first months of 1358. Literature on medieval portraiture is extensive. See at least the special issue of Gesta, 46 (2007), dedicated to ‘Contemporary Approaches to the Medieval Face’, and S. Perkinson, The Likeness of the King: a prehistory of portraiture in late medieval France (Chicago, 2009). 4 ‘[…] si vede nel muro l’eff igie di papa Benedetto XII che sta in atto di benedire, e tien le chiavi, ed è dipinto di rosso’: F.M. Torrigio, Le Sacre Grotte Vaticane (Viterbo, 1618, various edns), 65. 5 ASV, Camera Apostolica, Introitus et Exitus, no. 180, fol. 113v, first published by G. Daumet, ‘Le monument de Benoît XII dans la Basilique de Saint-Pierre’, Mélanges d’Archéologie et d’Histoire, 16 (1896), 293–7. Bolgia, ‘Images in the City’, 388–90. We remain unconvinced by D’Alberto’s suggestion that this painter is that same Lello de Urbe active as a mosaicist in Naples in 1313, and possibly on the façade mosaics of S. Paolo fuori le mura in Rome around 1328, C. D’Alberto, Roma al tempo di Avignone. Sculture nel contesto (Rome, 2013), pp. 59–61. On this Lello, see S. Romano, Eclissi di Roma: pittura murale a Roma e nel Lazio da Bonifacio VIII a Martino V (1295–1431) (Rome, 1992), 114–6, with bibliography; on his provenance from the Urbe (Rome), not from Urbevetere (Orvieto) as previously thought, see V. Lucherini, ‘1313-1320: il cosiddetto Lello da Orvieto, mosaicista e pittore, a Napoli, tra committenza episcopale e committenza canonicale’, in El ‘Trecento’ en obres: art de Catalunya i art d’Europa al segle XIV, ed. R. Alcoy (Barcellona, 2009), 185–215. ‘Lello’ (short for Angelo) was too common a name in fourteenth-century Rome to be used as proof of identity. See, for instance, the list of Lelli in the index of Isa Lori Sanfilippo,

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Given the Anonimo Romano’s notorious attention to bodily details (after all he had studied medicine in Bologna),6 it seems probable that the red was not only featuring on the papal cope (the famous cappa rubea) but also extended, even if to a different degree, to the pope’s complexion, contributing to an overall ‘red’ impression. A red or reddish complexion to characterize images of authority is found in late-medieval descriptions, often based on contemporary physiognomic theories (in turn of classical derivation).7 The use of gold (aurum de Florencia) and fine azure (azulo fino) still visible today – partly refreshed in later restorations8 – is documented by the payment registers, alongside other colours of excellent quality (ac alia de bonis optimis coloribus).9 The same payment document records that the sculpture had been commissioned to commemorate in perpetuity the reconstruction of the basilica’s roof, thus by and large the care of the pope for the seat of St Peter. The image had indeed been conceived to be originally accompanied by an inscription on pavonazzetto marble (Figure 3) – today located by its side (see Figure 2) – which recorded in Gothic capitals that ‘Pope Benedict XII, from the region of Toulouse, had the roof of this Basilica renewed in the year of our Lord 1341’ (Benedictus Papa XII / tholosanus fecit / fieri de novo tecta / huius basilice sub anno / domini MCCCXLI). In a separate section of La Roma dei Romani: arti, mestieri e professioni nella Roma del Trecento (Rome, 2001), 547. On the use of polychromy in medieval sculpture, see Circumlitio: the polychromy of antique and medieval sculpture. Proceedings of the Johann David Passavant Colloquium, 10–12 December 2008, ed. V. Brinkmann, O. Primavesi, and M. Hollein (Frankfurt am Main, 2010), and especially the contributions by H. Theiss and S. Roller; E. Billi, ‘Rivestire la pietra con la pittura: materiali, tecniche, note’, in Medioevo, le officine, ed. A.C. Quintavalle (Milan, 2010), 427–33. 6 Cronica: Anonimo Romano, ch. xi.614-7. On the special attention to the human body in the Anonimo’s descriptions, see G. Seibt, Scrivere la storia alle soglie del Rinascimento (Rome, 2000, first edn in German, 1992), 22–3. 7 Albertino Mussato’s verbal description of Emperor Henry VII of Luxemburg during his coronation procession in 1311 is a good example. See L. Jacobus, ‘Propria figura: the advent of facsimile portraiture in Italy c.1300’, The Art Bulletin 99/2 (2017), 72–101. I am grateful to Laura Jacobus for lending me a copy of her article before publication. On physiognomy, see Perkinson, Likeness of the King, 66–75. For the circulation of physiognomic writings in Italy around 1300, see H. Steinke, ‘Giotto und die Physiognomik’, Zeitschrift für Kunstgeschichte 59 (1996), 523–47, at 526–31. 8 The azure is used for the drapery behind the pope, the spandrels of the trefoil arch, and the inner side of both gable and pinnacles; the gold covers the crochets and finials of the aedicule, the borders of the rear drapery and of the pope’s cope, as well as the crowns of the tiara and the papal keys. A cleaning intervention in the 1980s has shown that the colours on the papal bust are heavily repainted whilst those on the aedicule are in good condition. See P. Silvan, ‘S. Pietro senza papa: testimonianze del periodo avignonese’, in Roma, Napoli, Avignone: arte di curia, arte di corte, 1300–1377, ed. C. Bologna and A. Tomei (Turin, 1996), 227–57, 250. 9 ASV, Introitus et Exitus, no. 180, fol. 113v, as above note 5.

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Fig. 1: Vatican City, Vatican Necropolis, Sala I. Paolo da Siena (and Lello Gariofoli), half-length image of Pope Benedict XII from the inner façade of Old St Peter’s, 1341 [photo author]

Fig. 2: Vatican City, Vatican Necropolis, Sala I. Current arrangement of the surviving fragments of the aedicule of Benedict XII by Paolo da Siena (and Lello Gariofoli) from the inner façade of Old St Peter’s, including the half-length image of the pope, crocketed gable, and inscription on pavonazzetto marble, 1341 [photo courtesy of the Fabbrica di San Pietro in Vaticano]

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Fig. 3: Vatican City, Vatican Necropolis, Sala I. Inscription on pavonazzetto marble from the aedicule of Benedict XII in Old St Peter’s, 1341 [photo author]

Fig. 4: Vatican City, Vatican Grottoes, Cappella della Bocciata. Plaster cast of the half-length image of Boniface VIII by Arnolfo di Cambio from the inner façade of Old St Peter’s, c.1300 (original sculpture in the Papal Apartments) [photo author]

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the inscription, in smaller characters at the bottom of the marble slab, the authorship of the image is recorded in the ‘speaking’ form: ‘Master Paolo da Siena made me’ (Magister / Paulus de S/enis me fecit). If, however, we reconstruct the original appearance of the monument, it immediately becomes clear that the image goes far beyond the mere commemoration of what had certainly been an outstanding enterprise of magisterial carpentry. We shall return later to this impressive enterprise. Let us for the moment focus on the papal image, in particular on its original location and appearance, hitherto neglected or misunderstood in the literature, as these can help shed new light both on the monument itself (and papal self-fashioning strategies in the early 1340s) and on the original location and function of other images that served as its model – chief amongst these the famous bust-portrait of Boniface VIII attributed to Arnolfo di Cambio (Figure 4). Following the demolition of the façade of Old St Peter’s in 1607, the sculpture was set in the chapel of the Madonna della Bocciata in the Vatican Grottoes, with an arrangement documented in early twentieth-century photographs.10 It recovered the surviving gable of its original aedicule on the occasion of the re-display for the Jubilee of 1950. The current display in the Sala I of the Vatican Necropolis (Figure 2) dates to the 1980s.11 The original location – within the church, above the main door – is indisputably attested by the Anonimo Romano, whose eye-witness account has surprisingly hitherto gone unnoticed. Scholars have instead assumed that the first setting of the marble portrait was above the Altar of the Dead – altare mortuorum, also known as altar of Leo IX – on the reverse façade of Old St Peter’s.12 The latter location is documented, amongst others, by an early seventeenth-century inscription in the Vatican Grottoes,13 and is visually confirmed by two watercolour drawings by Domenico Tasselli da Lugo accompanying Giacomo Grimaldi’s description of the basilica before the dismantling of the inner façade, as well as by a ‘documentary’ fresco in the chapel of the Madonna delle Partorienti, based upon Tasselli’s watercolours.14 10 Photos Anderson 20512, 20300 (Alinari Archives). 11 I am grateful to Pietro Zander for information concerning the movements of the piece. Recent publications (2015) still cite it as located in the Grottoes: D’Alberto, Roma, captions to figs II.1 and II.23. 12 See, most recently, ibid., 44, repeating the traditional view. 13 The seventeenth-century inscription reading ‘Memoria tecti Basilicae veteris cum effigie Benedicti XII quae erat in facie interiori supra altare mortuorum. MDCV’ (photo Anderson 20512) was probably the source of Torrigio’s statement that the image ‘stava già sopra l’altare detto dei morti nella basilica vecchia’: Torrigio, Sacre Grotte, 65. This must have cemented scholars’ view. 14 Giacomo Grimaldi, apostolic notary, was given the task of recording the appearance of the church and its monuments before the demolition. His account survives in two manuscripts: BAV,

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Fig. 5: Vatican City, Vatican Grottoes, Cappella della Bocciata. Aedicule of Benedict XII reused to frame a marble statue of St Peter. Photo Anderson 20343, early twentieth century [photo: Alinari]

MS Barb. lat. 2733, known as Instrumenta autentica and published as G. Grimaldi, Descrizione della basilica antica di S. Pietro in Vaticano: Codice Barberini Latino 2733, ed. R. Niggl (Vatican City, 1972); and BAV, Archivio del Capitolo di S. Pietro, MS A 64 ter, also known as Tasselli-Grimaldi Album as it includes Domenico Tasselli da Lugo’s watercolour drawings. On the cappella della Madonna delle Partorienti and its impressive fresco cycle depicting the appearance of Old St Peter’s prior to the demolition, see V. Lanzani, Grotte Vaticane: memorie storiche, devozioni, tombe dei papi (Vatican City, 2010), 186–96 and Figure 283.

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Nevertheless, all these sources merely record the previous setting, not the original one. The truth of the Anonimo Romano’s statement about the bust’s original location is confirmed beyond doubt by the payment record (also surprisingly overlooked by scholarship with regard to the destination of the image): ‘in muro supra portam navis majoris dicte sacrosante Basilice’.15 It is unquestionable that the bust was intended to be set above the main door of the basilica, on the counter-façade, in an absolutely central position, and was indeed placed there by the sculptor Paolo da Siena himself.16 The architectural aedicule framing the bust is peculiar for the pine cones decorating its crockets, pinnacles and finials (Figures 5-6), presumably a reference to the ancient pine cone formerly in the centre of the basilica’s atrium. This aedicule underwent several alterations when it was f irst separated from the marble portrait, shortly after its removal to the Vatican Grottoes. Then (in 1617) the Gothic frame was re-used to create a ‘honourable’ setting for a monumental marble statue of the Apostle, as attested by payments to the artist in charge of the enterprise.17 The monumental pastiche, including several Cosmatesque architectural elements and spolia sculptures, is well documented by an eighteenth-century engraving and several early twentieth-century photographs (Figure 5).18 The top of the aedicule’s gable is filled in by a marble shield, with a rosette at its very centre (Figure 6). The shield-form, however, suggests that a coat of arms was formerly present – certainly that of Jacques Fournier – which must have been replaced by a rosette when the aedicule was given a new use as frame for the enthroned St Peter. Indeed the rosette is a later (perhaps stucco) insertion, not comparable to the fourteenth-century rosettes in the 15 ‘[…] in the wall above the door in the main nave of the sacrosanct basilica’: ASV, Introitus et Exitus, no. 180, fol. 113v. First published by Daumet, as in note 5 above, the document is known to the scholarship on the portrait, including D’Alberto and Silvan, who, nevertheless, seem to have missed this piece of information and state either that the bust was originally set above the Altar of the Dead or that its original location is unknown: D’Alberto, Roma, 44; Silvan, ‘S. Pietro senza papa’, 245. See now Bolgia, ‘Images in the City’, 388–90; eadem, ‘Il XIV secolo: da Benedetto XI (1303–1304) a Bonifacio IX (1389–1404)’, in La committenza artistica dei papi a Roma nel Medioevo, ed. M. D’Onofrio (Rome, 2016), 331–59, 340. 16 ASV, Introitus et Exitus, no. 180, fol. 113v: ‘[…] posita etiam per eum in muro supra portam navis majoris’ [italics mine]. 17 Archivio della Reverenda Fabbrica di San Pietro, Arm. 1, 3, no. 77, fols 375rv and 378rv. The artist was Benedetto Drei il Vecchio. F. Caglioti, ‘Da Alberti a Ligorio, da Maderno a Bernini e a Marchionni: il ritrovamento del ‘San Pietro’ vaticano di Mino da Fiesole (e di Niccolò Longhi da Viggiù)’, Prospettiva, 86 (1997), 37–70, 69, n. 99. 18 F.L. Dionisi, Sacrarum Vaticanae Basilicae cryptarum monumenta aereis tabulis incisa et Philippo Laurentio Dionysio, eiusdem Basilicae beneficiario, commentariis illustrata (Rome, 1773), tab. ix, 21, and photo Anderson 20300 and 20343, amongst others.

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Fig. 6: Vatican City, Vatican Necropolis, Sala I. Paolo da Siena (and Lello Gariofoli), aedicule of Benedict XII from the inner façade of Old St Peter’s, detail of gable, 1341 [photo author]

spandrels of the trefoil (themselves heavily re-gilded).19 Thus, in the original monument, the portrayal of Benedict XII was most probably associated with his own coat of arms and with the mentioned inscription commemorating the pope’s complete renewal of the basilica’s roof. The inscription was almost certainly located just beneath the aedicule, as we can reconstruct on the basis of their identical width (105 cm if we include the polychrome columnettes, lost but attested by the payment records).20 The monument was secured to the wall above the main door by means of marble brackets, also recorded by the same documentary evidence. The identification of the original location and appearance of the monument considerably alters our understanding of the meaning of this halflength image and, more broadly, of papal visual strategies at the beginning of the 1340s, throwing light on how the pope wished to present himself and to be seen in Rome. It has long been noticed – and is apparent to anyone familiar with Italian thirteenth- and fourteenth-century art – that the portrait of Benedict XII is almost an identical copy of the half-length image 19 The rosette is too high up for us to verify its constituent material. 20 ASV, Introitus et Exitus, no. 180, fol. 113v. It is usually assumed that the inscription was placed to the side of the portrait (see, most recently, D’Alberto, Roma, 44), but this assumption is based on Grimaldi’s description (156–7), which is later than the removal of the image from its original location.

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Fig. 7: Vatican City, Vatican Necropolis, Sala I. Paolo da Siena (and Lello Gariofoli), half-length image of Pope Benedict XII from the inner façade of Old St Peter’s, blessing hand, 1341 [photo author]

of Boniface VIII (see Figure 4), one of the highest achievements of Arnolfo di Cambio, and a work which was also conceived for Old St Peter’s.21 The exact original location of this image requires fresh discussion, whilst there 21 The work is not signed, but the attribution can scarcely be contested. It is now in the Papal Apartments, whilst a cast is on display in the Vatican Grottoes.

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is a general consensus that this image too was originally housed in a Gothic aedicule, which only increases the similarity between the two portraits.22 Nancy Rash observed that Boniface ‘might have appeared as if blessing from a window of appearances, as Benedict XII did later in the century’.23 The aedicule of Benedict XII is indeed termed fenestra in the payment records.24 Iconographically, the two busts are almost identical: both pontiffs are half-length and frontally portrayed; they wear the triregnum, that is, the tall double-crown tiara on a bejewelled diadem (that of Benedict formerly filled in with precious stones or enamels a cabochon) which had been first introduced by Boniface VIII.25 Both wear a cope with a central morse; both display prominent keys with their left hand whilst blessing with the right, close to the body at heart level. The portrayals are so similar that we can safely compare them to reconstruct lost details. Benedict’s tiara has a hole at the top, formerly housing a metal pivot (still visible in the pre-1950s’ photographs) which served to hold a top missing component. This must have been similar to the spherical element crowning Boniface’s tiara in his own sepulchral effigy at the Vatican and in his statue formerly on the façade of Florence cathedral, both the work of Arnolfo di Cambio, and so we can fairly assume that spherical elements featured on top of the papal tiaras in both sculptures. Furthermore, Benedict’s annular finger displays the papal ring (Figure 7), which must have appeared on Boniface’s blessing hand too. Despite the close similarities, the two images differ in size, Benedict’s portrayal being considerably larger and taller than that of Boniface – the first measuring 148 cm in height (not counting the basement) by 85 cm in width, the second 120 cm by 67 cm. Thus Benedict’s image is well over life-size, and is therefore more ostentatious and imposing than that of Boniface. Furthermore, Benedict’s keys are proportionally larger than those of Boniface (if we mentally reintegrate the partial loss) (Figure 8). We shall return to the issue of size, but for the moment we ought to note that the entire monument, including the inscription, must have been rather imposing, measuring around 350 cm by 105 cm, without counting the brackets. 22 N. Rash, ‘Boniface VIII and Honorific Portraiture: observations on the half-length image in the Vatican’, Gesta, 26 (1987), 47–58, 52–3. 23 Ibid., 53. 24 ASV, Introitus et Exitus, no. 180, fol. 113v. 25 On the triregnum, especially in this specific form, see A. Paravicini Bagliani, Le Chiavi e la Tiara: immagini e simboli del papato medievale (Rome, 2005; first edn 1998), 77. For the sake of convenience, we will occasionally refer to these portraits as ‘busts’ (following a convention in the literature), but it is clear that these are half-length images and that the representation of the papal bodies down to the waist is significant. See the discussion of possible models below.

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Fig. 8: Vatican City, Vatican Necropolis, Sala I. Paolo da Siena (and Lello Gariofoli), half-length image of Pope Benedict XII from the inner façade of Old St Peter’s, hand holding the keys, 1341 [photo author]

The ‘bust’ of Boniface VIII has been extensively studied, not only as a highly accomplished example of late-medieval Italian sculpture but also for the message it conveys concerning papal power.26 In this respect, in 26 Literature is extensive. See in particular A.M. Romanini, Arnolfo di Cambio e lo ‘stil novo’ del Gotico italiano (Milan, 1969), 95 and 99, n. 101; J. Gardner, ‘Boniface VIII as a patron of sculpture’,

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particular, Nancy Rash has highlighted the combination of temporal and spiritual power transmitted by the image, partly deriving from Arnolfo’s visual sources, which she proposed to identify in Roman ancient funerary stelae, Frederician portraiture, and in Nicola and Giovanni Pisano’s bust-length sculptures of prophets and saints in the baptistery of Pisa.27 Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, building upon Serena Romano’s study on the iconography of the blessing St Peter, has underlined the powerful historical significance of the bust in ecclesiological-symbolical terms. According to Romano, the bronze statue of St Peter (also originally at the Vatican), attributed to Arnolfo di Cambio and dating around the same time as Boniface’s bust, is the earliest image to adopt the blessing gesture (Figure 9), which in the iconographical tradition pertained only to Christ. This observation led Paravicini Bagliani to argue that the adoption of this gesture for the marble portrait of Boniface VIII expresses the symbolic identification of the pope with Christ.28 The argument needs refinement as there existed images of blessing popes and saintly figures pre-dating Boniface VIII’s image, including several portraits in the twelfth-century mural series in the chapel of St Nicholas at the Lateran Palace, and the pictorial representation of John XVIII (1003–1009) in his monumental tomb in S. Paolo fuori le mura.29 An even more pertinent comparison can be proposed with the eleventh- or twelfth-century depiction of St Benedict in S. Maria in Pallara, not only for being a half-length image but also for a certain similarity of the blessing hand – turned somewhat inward, middle and forefinger extended, and in Atti della IV Settimana di Studi di Storia dell’Arte medievale dell’Università di Roma ‘La Sapienza’ 19–24 maggio 1980, ed. A.M. Romanini (Rome, 1983), 513–27; Rash, ‘Boniface VIII and Honorific Portraiture’; J. Poeschke, Die Skulptur des Mittelalters in Italien, 2 vols (Munich, 1998–2000), ii (Gotik), 95–6; V. Pace, ‘Una presenza marginale: l’immagine di Bonifacio VIII e i programmi figurativi moderni nella Roma trionfante del primo giubileo’, in Bonifacio VIII: atti del XXXIX Convegno Storico Internazionale, Todi 13–16 Oct 2002 (Spoleto, 2003), 501–20; idem, ‘Busto di Bonifacio VIII’, in Arnolfo: alle origini del Rinascimento fiorentino, ed. E. Neri Lusanna, exh. cat. Florence, Museo dell’Opera di S. Maria del Fiore, 21 December 2005–21 April 2006 (Florence, 2005), 106; exhibition review by C. Bolgia in The Burlington Magazine, 148 (2006), 296–7; S. Romano, ‘Visione e visibilità nella Roma papale: Nicolò III e Bonifacio VIII’, in Bonifacio VIII: ideologia e azione politica (Rome, 2006), 59–76. 27 Rash, ‘Boniface VIII and Honorific Portraiture’, 49. 28 A. Paravicini Bagliani, ‘Il busto di Bonifacio VIII: nuove testimonianze e una rilettura’, in Il potere del Papa: corporeità, autorappresentazione, simboli (Florence, 2009), 137–51; Romano, ‘Visione e visibilità’, 75. 29 For the tomb of John XVIII (associated by Ladner with Pope John XIII, instead), see the seventeenth-century watercolour drawing in BAV, MS Barb. lat. 4406, fol. 141, briefly discussed in S. Waetzoldt, Die Kopien des 17. Jahrhunderts nach Mosaiken und Wandmalereien in Rom (Vienna-Munich, 1964), cat. no. 588.

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Fig. 9: Vatican City, St Peter’s Basilica. Arnolfo di Cambio (attr.), bronze statue of St Peter, c.1300 [photo Dr Ronald V. Wiedenhoeft, Saskia Cultural Documentation]

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kept close to the saint’s chest.30 The association is perhaps not entirely coincidental, as Benedetto Caetani (the future Boniface VIII) may have had the image of his eponymous saint in mind, and a reference to St Benedict would have in turn suited Benedict XII quite well. Whilst these observations are meant to provide a context to (and indeed identify a tradition for) the blessing gesture and association with Christ, they do not diminish Paravicini Bagliani’s overall conclusion, which remains convincing. Boniface’s image is to be read as the symbolical identification of the pope with Peter (via his ‘appropriation’ of the keys, the traditional attribute of the Apostle), of the pope with the Church (the triregnum signifying the Church), and of the pope with Christ (via his ‘appropriation’ of the blessing right hand). The Vatican bust thus represents Boniface VIII as the embodiment of the Church, the new St Peter, and the vicarius Christi.31 As has been observed, the creative power of Boniface VIII in terms of the symbolism of papal power lay in his ability to give corporality to the authority he incarnated; Arnolfo’s greatness lay in his capacity to translate the complexity of these ecclesiological concepts into perfect sculptural forms.32 There is, in my view, another visual source which was probably behind the creation of this innovative image, ‘the first sculpture portrait of a living pope, documented and identifiable, to have been placed within a church’.33 I am referring here to the so-called body-part reliquaries, and more specifically to bust-reliquaries.34 Although the best-known Roman examples date only to the 1370s (and a catalogue is yet to be compiled), there may have 30 For the eleventh-century dating, see J. Osborne and A. Claridge, Early Christian and Medieval Antiquities, 2 vols (London 1996–98), The Paper Museum of Cassiano Dal Pozzo, i, 320–1, with good photograph of its appearance in the seventeenth century; M.L. Marchiori, Art and Reform in Tenth-Century Rome: the paintings of S. Maria in Pallara (PhD thesis, Queen’s University, Ontario, Canada, 2007), 67. For the twelfth-century dating, see J. Enckell Julliard, ‘S. Maria in Pallara’, in Pittura medievale a Roma: corpus, iv, Riforma e tradizione, 1050–1198, ed. S. Romano (Milan, 2006), 196–206. 31 The concept had replaced that of vicarius Petri since Innocent III’s time: M. Maccarrone, Vicarius Christi: storia del titolo papale (Rome, 1952). 32 Paravicini Bagliani, ‘Busto di Bonifacio VIII’, 151. 33 Rash, ‘Boniface VIII and Honorific Portraiture’, 50. 34 The term refers to the shape of the reliquary but is rather unsatisfactory as it has been demonstrated that, in several cases, the form of the container did not reflect the actual content. There is considerable literature on these reliquaries. See, in particular, the dedicated issue of Gesta, 36 (1997), and C. Hahn, ‘The Spectacle of the Charismatic Body: patrons, artists, and body-part reliquaries’, in Treasures of Heaven: saints, relics, and devotion in medieval Europe, exh. cat., 17 October 2010–17 January 2011, Cleveland Museum of Art and other locations (New Haven, 2010), 163–72.

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Fig. 10: Saint-Nectaire (Auvergne), church of Saint-Nectaire. Bust-reliquary of St Baudime, midtwelfth century [photo Caisse nationale des monuments historiques et des sites, Paris]

been earlier ones in the Urbs, not only the greatest repository of relics (and thus reliquaries) within Christendom but also the place where affluent ecclesiastical patrons must have been eager to acquire the most up-to-date

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and fashionable forms of containers for sacred bodily remains.35 In any event, the spread of bust-reliquaries across Europe by the late thirteenth century renders it most likely that Boniface VIII (and presumably Arnolfo di Cambio too) had seen such reliquaries in the course of their lives.36 These hierocratic and idol-like, silver-gilt, bejewelled images (Figure 10) did not simply ‘portray’ saints but also physically incorporated parts of their bodies, thus literally giving ‘corporality’ to their bones and ‘embodying’ their otherworldly and miracle-working power. By closely resembling bust-reliquaries emerging from their tabernacle-shrines, the images of both Boniface VIII and Benedict XII coming out of their canopied aedicules carried a similar supernatural power. If the image of Boniface VIII did indeed possess the ecclesiological significance outlined above, enhanced by a supernatural ‘aura’, thus carrying a complex multilayered message about the pope and his office, this message would have required a prominent display, which leads us to revise the question of original location. The bust is commonly associated with Boniface VIII’s monumental and most innovative sepulchral chapel (Figure 11), which he commissioned during his life-time from Arnolfo di Cambio, leading architect and sculptor of his age.37 The sources traditionally cited 35 On the Roman examples, the precious reliquaries commissioned by Urban V in 1368 for the most venerable heads of Peter and Paul, see D. Mondini, ‘Reliquie incarnate: le “sacre teste” di Pietro e Paolo a S. Giovanni in Laterano a Roma’, in Del visibile credere: pellegrinaggi, santuari, miracoli, reliquie, ed. D. Scotto (Florence, 2011), 265–96. On the head of St Juliana, destined for a Perugian nunnery but associated with Rome, see B. Drake-Bohem, ‘Reliquary Bust of Saint Juliana’, in Set in Stone: the face in medieval sculpture, ed. C.T. Little, exh. cat., 26 September 2006–18 February 2007, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York (New Haven CT, 2006), 80–1. 36 We should not forget that in 1303 the French court charged Boniface with inciting people to idolatry on the basis of the fact that ‘he had his own images in silver set up in churches’ ( fecit imagines suas argenteas erigi in Ecclesiis). J. Coste, Boniface VIII en procès: articles d’accusation et dépositions des témoins (1303–1311). Édition critique, introduction et notes (Rome, 1995), H16, 148. The accusation article refers to the fact that Benedetto Caetani (the future Boniface VIII) and Cardinal Gerardo Bianchi had commissioned silver images of themselves to be displayed on the high altar of Reims cathedral during Mass on the occasion of the festivals of the liturgical year. T. Schmidt, ‘Papst Bonifaz VIII. und die idolatrie’, Quellen und Forschungen aus italienischen Archiven und Bibliotheken, 66 (1986), 75–107, at 91. For the signif icance of this incident, see Paravicini Bagliani, ‘Les portraits de Boniface VIII: une tentative de synthèse’, in Le portrait: la représentation de l’individu, ed. A. Paravicini Bagliani, J.-M. Spieser, and J. Wirth (Florence, 2007), 117–39, at 120–6. These silver images suggest even more strongly an association with bust-reliquaries, and must have done so especially in France, where such reliquaries were very popular. Although the accusation of encouraging idolatry was tendentious and cannot be taken at face value, the pope must have been seen as assimilating himself to saints, and he did so by commissioning images of himself that strongly resembled these human-shaped reliquaries. 37 Bibliography on this tomb is extensive. See, most recently, J. Gardner, The Roman Crucible: the artistic patronage of the papacy, 1198‒1304, Römische Forschungen der Bibliotheca Hertziana,

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Fig. 11: The lost sepulchral chapel of Pope Boniface VIII by Arnolfo di Cambio and Jacopo Torriti, originally against the inner façade of Old St Peter’s. Early seventeenth-century drawing, BAV, MS Barb. lat. 2733 (Grimaldi, Instrumenta autentica), fol. 8r [from Descrizione della basilica antica di S. Pietro in Vaticano: Codice Barberini Latino 2733, ed. R. Niggl (Vatican City, 1972)]

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to buttress this association are two, namely a pre-1306 (not pre-1304, as commonly believed) description by the Bavarian chronicler Siegfried of Ballhausen, and Giacomo Grimaldi’s account recording the appearance and location of monuments in Old St Peter’s just before its demolition. However, a careful re-reading of these texts does not seem to confirm their traditional interpretation. Siegfried of Ballhausen reports that: He [Boniface VIII] built an altar in the basilica of St Peter above the sepulchre of St Boniface the pope […] and above that altar he ordered an eminent and precious tomb for himself sculpted of the whitest marble and decorated with gold, and above [it] a ciborium resting on four columns, similarly made of marble and precious gold, and iuxta tumbam in pariete his simulachrum sculpted of marble and decorated with gold.38

The wording of the text strongly suggests that the sculpted simulachrum decorated with gold is not the papal bust but the gisant, placed (then, as today) right atop the bier (see Figure 11).39 This is the most logical reading of the passage if we consider the meaning of iuxta in medieval Latin. Indeed, already from Late Antiquity, iuxta had come to signify apud, ad.40 Apud in its turn had already acquired the meaning of ‘in’ in ancient Latin.41 Furthermore, in medieval Latin apud is also attested as meaning ‘super’ in the sense of

33 (Munich, 2013), 128–9, highlighting the revolutionary novelty of the closeness of the bier to the altar. Valentino Pace (‘Busto di Bonifacio VIII’, 106) questions the pertinence of the bust to the tomb, noting that they were unrelated, but concurs on a topographical closeness of the image to the sepulchre. 38 ‘Ipse [Boniface VIII] edificavit altare in basilica sancti Petri super sepulchrum sancti Bonifatii pape […] et super altare illud sibimet tumbam eminentem et preciosam de candidissimo marmore sculptam et auro [desuper] ornatam fieri statuit, et ciborium desuper quatuor columpnis suffultum, similiter de marmore auroque preciosum, et iuxta tumbam in pariete simulachrum suum de marmore sculptum atque auro ornatum’, Siegfried of Balnhusin, Compendium Historiarum, MGH SS, xxv, 712. On the date of the Compendium, see M. Kälble, s.v. ‘Siegfried of Ballhausen’, in Encyclopedia of the Medieval Chronicle, ed. G. Dunphy, Brill online at http://referenceworks. brillonline.com/entries/encyclopedia-of-the-medieval-chronicle/siegfried-of-ballhausenEMCSIM_02312?s.num=9 (first appeared online 2012, first print edition Leiden, 2010). It is worth noting that the German chronicler mentions the tomb of Boniface VIII on another occasion in the Compendium (p. 716), and that – on such occasion – he mistakenly locates it in S. Pietro in Montorio: ‘Sicque [Boniface VIII] mortuus est anno pontificatus sui nono, et positus in tumba preciosa, quam sibi exstruxerat in basilica sancti Petri in monte Aureo.’ 39 The bier and its effigy are preserved in the Vatican Grottoes. 40 Thesaurus linguae Latinae, vii.2, col. 751. 41 Ibid., ii, cols 337–8.

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upon, atop.42 In other words, iuxta tumbam in pariete most probably means ‘in the tomb in the wall’, and refers to the niche housing the bier and its recumbent figure. Thus one of the two sources appears to be irrelevant in clarifying the location of the bust. 43 As for the other, it reads as follows: ‘in parte epistula ad parietem cernebatur statua Bonifacii VIII umbilico tenus cum pluviale’ (‘on the right-hand side in the wall one could see the statue of Boniface VIII down to the navel with the cope’). In this case, the interpretation of the text as describing the half-length image (umbilico tenus) of the pope as set in the wall to the right of the tomb is unquestionably correct. However, since the source is some three centuries later than the time of the original setting, the sculpture could easily have been moved at some point in the course of time (as was the image of Benedict XII). It would not be surprising if the bust – originally placed in a more prominent location – was relocated near the pope’s tomb when its removal was required for some reason, perhaps when such prominent location was needed for the display of the commission of a new pontiff. Indeed, to associate the de-contextualized bust of a pope with his own tomb on the occasion of such relocations would be the most natural course of action. 44 To gain a deeper understanding of the significance of Boniface VIII’s sculptural image and to offer a new hypothesis on its original location, we need to extend our analysis to two other artworks, which in turn are instrumental to reconstruct fully the motivation behind Benedict XII’s replica-portrait. The artefacts in question are two monumental statues of St Peter, both associated by most scholars with Arnolfo di Cambio, and, possibly, with Boniface VIII’s patronage. The first is the most venerable, much-venerated bronze statue of the enthroned Apostle, placed today in the basilica (see Figure 9), but known to have been located near its apse in the oratory of St Martin until its demolition around 1455.45 Both formal and technical analysis of this bronze statue have led to a general consensus for a date around 1300.46 42 See for instance, F. Arnaldi and P. Smiraglia, Latinitatis Italiae Medii Aevi Lexicon (Turin, 1984), s.v. iuxta, 264, B. 43 I am grateful to Maurizio Campanelli and Marco Guardo for sharing their expertise on this. 44 The fact that Tasselli da Lugo, always accurate in reproducing the actual monuments in the drawings which accompanied Grimaldi’s written descriptions, did not show the image of Boniface by the side of his sepulchral monument should not be seen as a problem. The image had probably already been moved to the Grottoes at the time the drawing was made. 45 The source is Maffeo Vegio, Libellus de Antiqua S. Petri Basilica in Vaticano (Rome, 1457), 80. A. M., Romanini, ‘Le statue di San Pietro in Vaticano’, in La basilica di San Pietro, ed. C. Pietrangeli (Rome, 1989), 57–61, 57–8. 46 A.M. Romanini, ‘Nuovi dati sulla statua bronzea di San Pietro in Vaticano’, Arte Medievale, 4 (1990), 1–50; S. Angelucci, ‘ Primi risultati di indagine tecnico-scientif ica sul San Pietro di

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Fig. 12: Vatican City, Vatican Grottoes. Marble statue of St Peter, second century with fourteenth-, eighteenth-, and twenty-first century additions [photo author]

bronzo della basilica vaticana’, Arte Medievale, 4 (1990), 51–8; A.M. Romanini, ‘L’attribuzione della statua bronzea di S. Pietro al Vaticano’, in La figura di S. Pietro nelle fonti del Medioevo, ed. L. Lazzari (Louvain-la-Neuve, 2001), 549–68.

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The second statue is a more complex artefact, in marble and displayed today in the Vatican Grottoes (Figure 12). It has long been established that this is a second-century statue of an epicurean philosopher, at some point transformed into St Peter by replacing the head and both hands, the right one raised in the gesture of blessing, the left holding the papal keys instead of the earlier rotulus.47 Whilst the hands that we see today date respectively to 1752/53 and 2003 (replacing earlier replacements),48 the head is similar in form and style to that of the bronze sculpture (considering the difference of medium), which has led several scholars to argue that the transformation of the ancient philosopher into St Peter is the work of Arnolfo, who subsequently modelled his bronze statue after the marble sculpture. 49 Whilst this is neither the time nor the place to discuss authorship,50 it seems reasonable to think in terms of patronage, and suggest that Boniface VIII was behind the whole enterprise – namely, the creation of two monumental statues of St Peter and the modelling of his own sculpture portrait after these powerful monumental images of the first pope and most venerable saint of Rome. At this point it is worth noting that the original location of the marble statue of St Peter has not been given sufficient attention, at least within a discourse intended to illuminate our understanding of the images of both Boniface VIII and Benedict XII.51 One of the earliest known records of the location of the marble statue is in the atrium, in the vestibule of the basilica. Our source is the moving account of the translation of the head-relic of St Andrew from Patrasso in 1462, written by Pope Pius II in his own Commentarii. It reports that when the pope entered the atrium (ingressus vero atrium) he contemplated ‘the image of the blessed Peter which sits before the vestibule of the temple’ (effigiem beati Petri quae sedet ante vestibulum templi).52 We learn that Pius II was profoundly moved, even 47 This was already observed by Dionisi, Sacrarum Vaticanae Basilicae cryptarum monumenta, 21. 48 Lanzani, Grotte Vaticane, 280. 49 On this, see most recently F. Caglioti, ‘Un “Profeta” vaticano d’Isaia da Pisa attribuito ad Arnolfo di Cambio (Firenze, Palazzo Mozzi-Bardini)’, Prospettiva, 113–4 (2004), 60–72, with a fair resumé of earlier literature. The current general consensus on the attribution to Arnolfo is also reported by Lanzani, Grotte Vaticane, 280–1. 50 We had no opportunity to undertake a direct analysis, and in fact it would make little difference to our argument. 51 The most accurate research on the location of the statue is in Caglioti, ‘Da Alberti a Ligorio’, 43–4; idem, ‘San Pietro’, in La Basilica di San Pietro in Vaticano, ed. A. Pinelli, 4 vols (Modena, 2000), ii (Testi/Schede), 779–82, 880–1. 52 Enea Silvio Piccolomini Papa Pio II, I Commentarii, ed. L. Totaro (Milan, 1984), 1340.

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Fig. 13: Tiberio Alfarano, De Basilicae Vaticanae. Plan of Old St Peter’s, detail of façade and frontal porch [from De Basilicae Vaticanae antiquissima et nova structura, ed. M. Cerrati (Rome, 1914)]

to tears, as if the statue was rejoicing for the arrival of its brother, calling to mind the meeting and the embrace of the two brothers, who had not seen each other for so long. Even for humanists, the image still seems to have possessed a supernatural power. Giovanni Rucellai’s earlier description (at the time of the Jubilee of 1450) is often dismissed for recording the presence of a bronze statue in that very same location: ‘There, before the church, a colonnaded porch, open on the front, and in the centre between two columns, a bronze door, and above, seated, a bronze figure of St Peter.’53 Francesco Caglioti, nevertheless, has convincingly argued that this was a ‘perception’ lapsus by Rucellai, induced partly by the statue’s original colours and partly by the massive presence of bronze around it (the doors and the canopy).54 Another reference to the sculpture’s original setting is that of the German visitor Johannes Fichard (1536), who recorded the image as the most noticeable feature of the atrium: ‘From there one arrives in the atrium proper, at the apex of which a most ancient image of St Peter is visible.’55 At the turn of the seventeenth century, Tiberio Alfarano is much more specific about the setting of the statue, clarifying that it surmounted a marble portal framing the most ancient bronze door and was protected 53 ‘Item, dinanzi alla chiesa, uno porthico con colonne, aperto dinanzi, et nel mezzo tra colonna et colonna una porta di bronzo, et di sopra a sedere una f igura di sancto Pietro di bronzo’, Giovanni Rucellai ed il suo Zibaldone, i: Il Zibaldone Quaresimale. Pagine scelte, ed. A. Perosa (London, 1960), 68. 54 Caglioti, ‘San Pietro’, 881 (with reference to different interpretations). 55 A. Schmarsow, ‘Excerpte aus Joh. Fichard’s “Italia” von 1536’, Repertorium für Kunstwissenschaft, 14 (1891), 130–9, 373–83: ‘Inde ad porticum veram templi pervenitur, in cuius summo antiquissima quaedam Petri imago conspicitur.’

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Fig. 14: The lost canopy housing the marble statue of St Peter, formerly in the atrium of Old St Peter’s. Early seventeenth-century drawing, BAV, MS Barb. lat. 2733 (Grimaldi, Instrumenta autentica), fol. 145r [from Niggl, 1972]

by a bronze canopy on porphyry columns, placed against the central intercolumniation of the western wing of the atrium.56 He indicated the 56 T. Alfarano, De Basilicae Vaticanae antiquissima et nova structura, ed. M. Cerrati (Rome, 1914), 18 and nn. 1–2, 116 and n. 5.

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exact location on his ground-plan as number 131 (Figure 13).57 The same placement is recorded by Grimaldi, and visualized in two contemporary sketches (Figure 14).58 Writing at the time of the removal of the enthroned Apostle to the Grottoes, Torrigio confirms the statue as formerly located ‘in front of the main door of the church above a door’ (avanti la porta grande della chiesa sopra una porta), and additionally transcribes the inscription recording its translation: ‘[This is] a most ancient marble statue of St Peter, Prince of the Apostles, which was in between the columns of the porch of the Old Basilica above the bronze door, translated here by the Pontiff Paul V.’59 The statue therefore enjoyed a most prominent location, on the central axis leading through the most ancient bronze door to the main door of the basilica and, through this, to the central nave. And it is possible that it was first placed there at the time of the first jubilee in 1300. Indeed, given Boniface VIII’s well-known passion for monumental sculpture, it would have made sense for him to commission a monumental welcoming St Peter for the main entrance of the saint’s basilica on the occasion of the Jubilee. It is worth noting that an image of the Apostle in ingressu vestibuli is already attested from the beginning of the ninth century, when Pope Leo III provided a bejewelled gold bowl to hang in front of it.60 We cannot exclude that the Liber Pontificalis refers to the very same statue surviving today, in which case Arnolfo was commissioned to replace the head and hands which had already transformed the ancient philosopher into St Peter’s in earlier times before becoming worn out or stylistically unfashionable by the late thirteenth century.61 But it is equally, and perhaps even more probable, that the image recorded in the ninth century was a different one, and that the transformation of the epicurean philosopher into the Prince of the Apostles was indeed Arnolfo’s invention, given the sculptor’s extraordinary skills in reusing ancient statues.62 57 Ibid., 195. 58 BAV, MS Barb. lat. 2733, fol. 145r (published in Grimaldi, Descrizione, 179–80, and Figure 73); BAV, MS A 64 ter (Tasselli-Grimaldi, Album), fol. 10r. This is a view of the façade and atrium before 1609–10. The statue can be discerned under the canopy. 59 ‘S. Petri Apostolorum Principis statua marmorea antiquissima, que erat inter columnas porticus veteris Basilicae supra valvas aereas, huc translata Paulo V Pont. Max.’: Torrigio, Sacre Grotte, 67–8. 60 Liber Pontificalis, ii, 14, ‘gabatam ex auro purissimo anaglifam, cum gemmis pretiosis ornatam, quae pendet ante imaginem ipsius apostoli in ingressu vestibuli, pens. lib. VII et semis’ (‘a chiselled bowl of purest gold, adorned with precious gems, which hangs in front of the image of the apostle at the entrance of the vestibule’). 61 Caglioti, ‘S. Pietro’, 882. 62 Ibid.

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Fig. 15: Vatican City, Vatican Necropolis, Sala I. Paolo da Siena (and Lello Gariofoli), half-length image of Pope Benedict XII from the inner façade of Old St Peter’s, 1341 [photo author]

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Whatever the case, what matters to us is the centuries-long tradition of the presence of an image of St Peter above the door of the basilica’s vestibule and the fact that the image of Benedict XII above the main door just within the church, in axial and mirror-like position, certainly ‘engaged’ with that presence. In other words, what matters to us is that a visitor about to enter the basilica in the mid-fourteenth century would have been blessed by a monumental St Peter within a tabernacle-like structure, prominently displaying the symbols of his power; and that the same visitor, on leaving the basilica, would have been blessed by Benedict XII (Figure 15), similarly projecting from a canopied aedicule and holding his symbols of power as a new St Peter and vicar of Christ, the contemporary embodiment of the Roman Church.63 The idea is so subtle and sophisticated, so close to Boniface VIII’s interpretation of the pontiff’s role, that it is tempting to suggest that his monumental bust preceded that of Benedict XII in such a symbolically charged location within the church. Perceptive scholars have indeed been baffled by the apparent discrepancy between the centrality of the charismatic figure of Boniface VIII within the late-medieval papacy and the ‘marginality’ of his artistic commission in Rome.64 Interestingly, this marginality has been characterized as 63 To add to the similarities, both images were coloured. On the colours of the marble St Peter, see H. Swoboda, ‘Zur altchristlichen Marmor-Polycromie’, Römische Quartalschrift fur christliche Altertumskunde und für Kirchengeschichte, 3 (1889), 134–57. Polychromy was also applied to the bronze St Peter, whose cope was red: Angelucci, ‘Primi risultati’, 51. 64 Pace, ‘Una presenza marginale’, 501–20, 119–20: ‘Sembra un’ironia della sorte, ma intorno al 1300, negli anni del pontificato di Bonifacio VIII, il fedele che si muovesse nella capitale del Cristianesimo d’Occidente, sede del papato, avrebbe dunque ammirato le imprese dei vicari di Cristo e li avrebbe visti monumentalmente glorificati per l’eternità al Laterano, al Vaticano, a S. Paolo fuori le mura […] venendogli fatto ricordare non solo di Innocenzo III, di Onorio III, di Gregorio IV, di Nicola III, di Nicola IV, ma anche di Pasquale I, di Innocenzo II e di altri ancora, mentre di Bonifacio VIII avrebbe percepito sì la presenza nella quotidianità della politica, ma solo in un paio di casi ne avrebbe colto la presenza, secondaria dunque per la proiezione secolare di Roma in quella sfera di tradizionale visualità pubblica e monumentale i cui spazi i suoi predecessori avevano già completamente occupato […] Bonifacio VIII ebbe molte ambizioni, ma almeno a Roma la sua immagine fu una presenza marginale’ (It seems an ironic twist of fate that around 1300, during Boniface VIII’s pontificate, the faithful believer, moving around the capital of Western Christendom, seat of the papacy, would have admired the enterprises of the vicars of Christ and have seen them monumentally glorified for eternity at the Lateran, the Vatican, and S. Paolo outside the walls […] thus being reminded not only of Innocent III, Honorius III, Gregory IV, Nicholas III, and Nicholas IV, but also of Paschal I, Innocent II and others besides, whilst perceiving the presence of Boniface VIII almost exclusively in everyday politics. Only in a couple of instances would he or she have glimpsed his presence, itself less important, therefore, for the centuries-long projection of Rome in that traditional sphere of public and monumental

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marginality of location and function, rather than of quality. If we reposition Boniface VIII’s blessing image above the main door of Old St Peter’s and retrieve its original signif icance as an independent piece of sculpture carrying a powerful message of papal leadership and sovereignty, rather than a component of a tomb, we return to Boniface’s artistic patronage the power of expressing that centrality which scholars have lamented as inconceivably missing. If the image’s original setting was indeed above the central door, on the reverse façade, this setting must have changed at the time of Benedict XII’s re-roofing of the basilica, when the Avignonese pope aimed at presenting himself as the new St Peter and current vicarius Christi – in other words, at the time when the prolonged papal absence had rendered the materialization of the pontiff’s presence and reassertion of his sovereignty more necessary than ever. Lacking any conclusive evidence, the idea that the marble portrait of Benedict XII replaced that of Boniface VIII over the main door of St Peter’s in 1341 must, for the moment, remain conjecture, even if plausible. It is, however, certain that the image of Benedict XII was designed to be prominently displayed above the central door of the basilica of the Prince of the Apostles. Thus, the mid-fourteenth-century visitors were led to superimpose mentally the image of Benedict XII onto that of St Peter at the end of their sacred journey through the most venerable basilica of Rome. The location of the papal bust at the threshold of the basilica – indeed at the threshold between Heaven and earth, and with the power of granting such access (symbolized by the keys) – greatly increased the power and significance of the image. This was further enhanced by the presence of the statue of St Peter on the other side of that threshold, inasmuch as Benedict XII was literally portrayed as the direct successor of the Prince of the Apostles. If the idea of making his own image mirror that of St Peter through its location (not only through its appearance) was Benedict XII’s idea – and not Boniface VIII’s – we then need to read Benedict XII’s patronage in Rome as more innovative than we have usually assumed it to be when looking at what at first glance seems to be simply a conventional blueprint of Boniface VIII’s sculptural portrait. In any event, we should be wary of reading this iconographical choice as the product of an uninventive artist for a traditional pope, display whose spaces had already been entirely occupied by his predecessors […] Boniface had many ambitions, but – at least in Rome – his image was only marginally present’). Pace also noted, as an additional example of this perceived marginality (518, n. 40), that only one line is devoted to Boniface VIII’s patronage in the basilica by H.L. Kessler, ‘St Peter’s Basilica at the Time of the First Jubilee’, in idem, Old St Peter’s and Church Decoration in Medieval Italy (Spoleto, 2002), 1–14, 12.

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or, even worst, for a pope disinterested in artistic patronage for the city of Rome. Of course, in terms of artistic commissions, Jacques Fournier is first and foremost famous for his artistic and architectural initiatives in Avignon. Indeed, he was the pontiff who promoted a more permanent establishment of the Curia on the banks of the Rhône, not only by ordering the transfer of the archives of the church to the city, but also by initiating – as early as 1335 – an extraordinary programme to construct a vast, monumental papal palace which unmistakably spoke of the need to secure both the personal comforts and the rooms for the administrative offices required for a full undertaking of papal activities.65 He is also the pope who was criticized by Petrarch in the two famous verse epistles of 1335 and 1336, precisely for having abandoned Rome and for neglecting to take care of its Christian temples, which – according to the poet – were tottering and about to collapse, with altars shorn of alms and without incense, attracting very few pilgrims.66 Yet, Benedict’s patronage at the Lateran and in Old St Peter’s, including the re-roofing of both churches, demonstrates that he was not oblivious to such criticisms, and aimed instead at presenting himself as carer for the Eternal City.67 We ought therefore to read Benedict’s iconographical choice in the light of his papal programme and his interpretation of the pope’s role in contemporary Church and society. And we ought also to remember that some input in the choice might have been provided by the altararius of St Peter’s, who was responsible for overseeing building activities in the basilica, together with the master of works, whilst the pope was in Avignon.68 As Benedict never went to Rome, it is possible that the idea of presenting himself as a new St Peter, after the model of Boniface VIII, actually came from discussion with the altararius and the master of works, and of these in turn with the artist Paolo da Siena. But there is no doubt that the marble portrayal both reflects and expresses Benedict’s view of the role of the pope, carrying a topical message about papal authority and sovereignty. 65 F. Piola Castelli, La costruzione del Palazzo Papale di Avignone (Milan, 1981), 67–75; D. Vingtain (with photos by C. Sauvageot), Avignone: il Palazzo dei Papi (Milan, 1999), 93–179. 66 Epyst. 1, 2 and 5. 67 On the completion of the re-roofing of St John: Cronica: Anonimo Romano, ch. vii.30. Whilst his predecessor John XXII contributed a mere 3,500 golden florins to the repair of the roof of St Peter’s, Benedict sent 10,500 golden florins for its complete reconstruction: M. Cerrati, ‘Il tetto della Basilica Vaticana rifatto per opera di Benedetto XII’, Mélanges d’Archeologie et d’Histoire, 35 (1915), 81–117, 82–3. 68 The first altararius responsible for the enterprise was Johannes Piscis – that is, Poisson, the brother of Pierre Poisson who was in charge of the construction campaign at Avignon. Johannes died in 1338 and was replaced by Petrus Laurentii, canon of Arras. The direction of the work was given to Magister Tommaso Giuraudi, also from Avignon. Cerrati, ‘Tetto’, 83.

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Fig. 16: Rome, Reverenda Fabbrica di S. Pietro, Depositi. Plaster cast of the verso of the gable of Benedict XII’s aedicule (sixth-century pluteo from a liturgical screen in Old St Peter’s) [photo courtesy of the Fabbrica di San Pietro in Vaticano]

Jacques Fournier’s pontificate was characterized by the restoration of orthodoxy and consolidation of the sovereignty of the Church in Italy, as discussed in this very volume by Sylvain Parent.69 In a period of political instability, with a staggering increase in the number of the signorie, ‘questions of orthodoxy, papal sovereignty and, more broadly, government were

69 S. Parent, ‘Benedict XII and Italy: restoring and consolidating papal sovereignty after John XXII’ (in this volume), 167-190.

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central’.70 The pope also had to deal with accusations of absence from and disinterest in the Eternal City, Petrarch’s epistles being only the tip of the iceberg. After all, only six years before the beginning of Benedict’s pontificate, his predecessor, John XXII, had been deposed in Rome by Louis of Bavaria, precisely on the grounds of the papal absence, and an antipope had been created in the person of Nicholas V.71 The risk of adverse parties mobilizing the Roman populace against the absent pope was high. We know that Benedict XII himself was concerned about the preaching in the Urbe of the Dominican friar Venturino from Bergamo, who had to face an inquisitorial process in Avignon for his declarations, including that ‘non era niuno degno papa se non stesse a Roma a la sedia di San Piero’ (‘no one could be a worthy pope if he did not stay in Rome, at the seat of St Peter’).72 Only if we read Benedict’s bust within this context does it become apparent that the imitation of Boniface VIII’s marble portrait was intended to carry specific and highly topical messages. Indeed, even the minor differences between the two portrayals acquire significance. The larger keys indicate an even stronger wish to assert authority and sovereignty. The size of the image too betrays the need for even greater assertion. We may at this point observe that the image of Benedict lacks the plasticity and the nearly three-dimensional component that makes the portrayal of the Caetani pope so powerful and, ultimately, utterly convincing in its message. This unquestionably results from the obvious fact that Paolo da Siena’s carving skills are hardly comparable to the outstanding artistic quality of Arnolfo di Cambio. Yet, the lack of a forceful and ultimately persuasive result – indeed the almost caricature-like effect well described by the Anonimo – was not only because Paolo da Siena’s model was an extraordinary masterpiece; he also had to use pieces of spolia of limited depth, which must have created a further constraint to his already limited artistic skills. We were unable to view the back of the marble portrait or find an illustration of it, but a cast of the verso of the aedicule in the Depositi of the Vatican 70 Ibid. 71 On the art historical reflections see Bolgia, ‘Images in the city’, 381–400. 72 According to Giovanni Villani, because of the pope’s fear that Venturino could move the Christian people, the friar was exiled to the mountains and banned from confessing and preaching, G. Villani, Nuova Cronica, ed. G. Porta, II (Parma, 1991) iii, ch. xxiii, 66–8. On Venturino and his flagellant followers, see A.M. Piazzoni, ‘De Apibus, Venturino, beato’ in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani, 33 (1987), online at http://www.treccani.it/enciclopedia/de-apibus-venturinobeato_(Dizionario_Biografico); F. Andrews, ‘Preacher and Audience: friar Venturino da Bergamo and “popular” voices’, in The Voices of the People in Late-Medieval Europe: communication and popular politics, ed. J. Dumolyn, J. Haemers, H.R. Oliva Herrer, and V. Challet (Turnhout, 2014), 185–204.

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Fig. 17: Vatican City, Vatican Necropolis, Sala I. Paolo da Siena (and Lello Gariofoli), half-length image of Pope Benedict XII from the inner façade of Old St Peter’s, side view, 1341 [photo author]

Museums (Figure 16) reveals it to be a sixth-century marble pluteo from an early medieval choir-precinct from the Vatican basilica itself.73 It seems probable that the bust too was obtained from a second-hand marble piece, and that the artist was constrained by its actual limited depth (24 cm at 73 Silvan, ‘S. Pietro senza papa’, 252.

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the point of greater depth, namely, the blessing hand) (Figure 17). Arnolfo himself seems to have re-deployed an ancient marble piece for the half-length image of Boniface VIII, but of course with completely different results.74 This, parenthetically, may explain why the pope’s blessing hand is pressed against his chest, rather than projecting towards the viewer as in the bronze sculpture. To recapitulate: on the one hand, through its appearance and location, the half-length image of Benedict XII carried a powerful universal message about the authority and sovereignty of the pope – the new St Peter, vicar of Christ, embodiment of the Church, and both a spiritual and temporal ruler; on the other hand, the effigy conveyed a more topical message about praesentia, about Benedict XII being ‘present’ in Rome and taking care of the Eternal City, through his very attention to the restoration of its major basilicas, commemorated in perpetuity by his very portrayal and its accompanying monumental inscription. This materialization of presence through monumental sculpture was particularly relevant at a time when the papal absence from Rome was so greatly lamented by ambassadors and writers alike, and pleas for the pontiffs to return were vigorously expressed. Not long before the image was set up over the main door of St Peter’s, in March 1340, another embassy (this time from Florence) had implored the pope to return the Church to Rome, on the usual grounds that the Urbs was ‘the seat of St Peter and his successors’.75 Interestingly, Benedict’s enterprise and care for the city was visually reiterated by his painted presence in the most sacred area of the basilica, right above the high altar. There, two burdones (the main beams of the trusses)76 of his renewed open-timber roof displayed respectively two images of Benedict XII (due imagines seu stature domini nostri pape) with his coats of arms and a monumental inscription with the pope’s name and the date of the completion of the work. The roof – only in the transept area – was covered by hundreds of painted arms of the Roman Church, of the pope 74 At least, this is commonly stated in the literature (most recently, L. De Lachenal, ‘Arnolfo di Cambio e i marmi antichi: riuso, ideologia e prassi di bottega’, Bollettino d’Arte, ser. 7, 99 (2014), 21, 97–122), but I have never seen the back of the piece or a photograph of it. 75 E. Duprè Theseider, I Papi di Avignone e la questione romana (Florence, 1939), 79–80. 76 There is no doubt on the interpretation of the word burdones/bardones as the main beams of the trusses. Most of the documents concerning the renewal of the roof set the word in context, making its interpretation unquestionable. See Cerrati, ‘Tetto’, docs 1, 2, 7, 10, 15–17, 19–21, 32. See also M. Gaglione, ‘Lignamina necessaria de Calabria ferenda: interventi angioini per la ricostruzione di S. Giovanni in Laterano (1308)’, Archivio della Società Romana di Storia Patria, 128 (2006), 5–34, n. 54: the word is documented from the late thirteenth century and was still used by Francesco di Giorgio Martini. The idea that in this case the word means panel paintings set upon the altar, put forward by D’Alberto (Roma, 59), is not sustained by comparable evidence.

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himself, and of the Vatican basilica.77 Thus, the pope’s praesentia did not manifest itself exclusively at the entrance of the basilica. It also materialized above the high altar, and it would have been interesting to know how the pontiff was portrayed in these two images. One of them may have shown him in the traditional posture of a donor, perhaps kneeling with a model of his repaired church. The enterprise had been extraordinary, from the quasi-epic transfer of the gigantic wooden beams from the Massa Trabaria and the woods of Calabria, to the involvement of King Robert of Sicily in the granting of the toll-exemption, to the outstanding performance of the carpenters, especially the most excellent (escellentissimo) head-master Ballo da Colonna, who not only seemed to move the old beams down and the new ones up faster than a bird (più prestamente che se fussi uno ciello), but was also endowed with the rare gift of meeting deadlines.78 The impression of bustling activity is 77 ASV, Introitus et Exitus, no. 180, fol. 102rv, published by Cerrati, ‘Tetto’, 81–117, as docs 28 and 29. Here are the relevant passages: doc. 28 ‘[…] deliberatum fuit […] quod copertura tituli prout et secundum amplitudinem Tribune Altaris Maioris sacrosancte Basilice deberet f ieri, cum bugectis ponendis ab uno caballutio ad alium et foliis ponendis in iunturis tabularum, et quod ipsi bugecti et folii essent depicti ad arma sacrosancte Matris Ecclesie, domini nostri pape et ipsius Ecclesie Sancti Petri. Et sic pactum fuit et conventum cum magistro Lello dicto Garofalo de Urbe pictor [read pictore], qui promisit depingere centenarium de dictis bugectis cum dictis supersignijs seu armis pro sol. viginti septem […] Solvj pro duobus centenarius de bugectis sol. quingaginta quattuor – sol. liv (‘It was decided that […] the cover of the crossing according to the width of the main chapel of the holy basilica should be carried out by placing the bugecti from one caballutio to the other and by placing sheets in the junctions of the plates, and that these bugecti and sheets be painted with the arms of the Holy Mother Church, of our lord the pope and of the church of St Peter. And this was agreed and arranged with master Lello, called Garofalo, painter of Rome [the same who painted the bust of the pope], who promised to paint one hundred of the said bugecti with the above arms for 27 solidi […] Pay for two hundreds bugecti […] 54 solidi’); doc. 29: ‘Solvj magistro Lello dicto Garofalo predicto pro picture duorum burdonum, qui erant recte supra Altare maius, in uno quorum sunt depicte due imagines seu stature domini nostri pape ac supersingna ipsius, et in alia [read alio] sunt anni domini in quibus factum fuit totum opus Basilice ac nomen domini nostri pape omnibus suis sumptibus et expensis, libr. sex – lib. vi’ (Pay the aforementioned master Lello, called Garofalo, for the painting of two beams which were right above the main altar, in one of which are painted two images or f igures of our lord the pope and his arms, and in the other are the years of the Lord in which the whole work of the basilica was carried out and the name of our lord the pope, for all their work and expenses six pounds – vi libre). For a discussion of the craftmen’s salary, see I. Ait, ‘Il Manuale expensarum basilice Sancti Petri, 1339–1341: Contributo per lo studio del salariato a Roma nel Trecento’, in Le chiavi della memoria: miscellanea in occasione del I centenario della Scuola Vaticana di Paleografia, Diplomatica e Archivistica (Vatican City, 1984), 1–16. 78 For the provision of the wood, see Cerrati, ‘Tetto’; for a lively account of the campaign, see Cronica: Anonimo Romano, ch. vii.30.

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not only gathered from the spirited description of the Anonimo Romano, whose account is a masterpiece of early vernacular Italian literature, but can also be gauged from the more factual payment records. It is clear that the altararius kept a close eye on the building campaign, combining the major re-roofing with attentive maintenance work in order for the basilica to restore its reputation as a hospitable place for pilgrims. Payments range from the repair of the glass of the apsidal window in order to avoid the flames of the lamps on the high altar being continually blown out by the wind, to the removal of the roof-beams obstructing the pilgrim route on the days of the display of the Veronica, the most venerable relic of the basilica.79 We are far from the extensive and highly accomplished Avignonese enterprise, from the most sophisticated trompe l’oeil of the papal chamber, from the majestic Grand Chapel, satis spaciosam et speciosam;80 but Benedict XII managed, with the support of an efficient altararius and a sensible vicar, to counteract accusations of inattention and neglect, and to restore both the Lateran and St Peter’s to full functioning. More importantly, he also managed – at least visually – to reassert his role as Peter’s heir and vicar of Christ, and advertise his sovereignty and leadership, both spiritual and temporal, if only in the realm of St Peter. Claudia Bolgia, University of Edinburgh

79 Cerrati, ‘Tetto’, docs 5 and 22. 80 Vingtain, Avignone, 98–101, 107–21. The quotation is from an indulgence bull of 23 June 1336, cited ibid., 101. On the pictorial decoration, see E. Castelnuovo, ‘La pittura di Avignone capitale’, in Roma, Napoli, Avignone, 57–91, at 63–74.

6. Benedict XII and Italy: Restoring Orthodoxy and Consolidating Papal Sovereignty after John XXII Sylvain Parent

Abstract In the early fourteenth century, the first Avignon popes were confronted with a large movement of protest against their authority in northern Italy and the States of the Church at a time when the power of local lords was increasing. The unrest reached its climax during the pontificate of John XXII (1316–1334). To face those numerous oppositions, legal proceedings were widely used within the usual framework of temporal jurisdiction or following the more spectacular rules of the officium Inquisitionis. At his election in 1334, Benedict XII inherited this situation, and during the whole of his pontificate these questions of rebellion and tyranny were to remain in the foreground. Thus this chapter aims to shed light on the various facets of Benedict’s politics towards Italy, between conciliation and intransigence. Keywords: Benedict XII, John XXII, Italy, tyranny, Papal States

Benedict XII, as is well known, made a far greater contribution than did John XXII to establishing the papacy on the banks of the Rhône.1 A few months after acceding to the papal throne, he started the construction of a new pontifical palace, larger than the previous one and more appropriate for developments within the Curia. He then ordered that the Church archives, 1 E. Duprè Theseider lyrically evokes this renunciation: ‘a mano a mano che le salde mura crebbero e le torri si prof ilarono al di sopra della città [Avignon], parve che il richiamo che veniva da Roma e dalle deserte aule lateranensi si facesse sempre più debole e meno ascoltato’: I papi di Avignone e la questione romana (Florence, 1939), 81.

Bueno, Irene (ed.), Pope Benedict XII (1334–1342). The Guardian of Orthodoxy. Amsterdam University Press, 2018 doi: 10.5117/9789462986770_ch06

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which at that time were still kept in Assisi, be transferred to Avignon. Finally, in 1337, he abandoned the effort to return to Rome, gradually yielding to the arguments of those in the Curia who claimed that the situation in Italy and Rome was too serious and too dangerous. Throughout his pontificate Italy was, therefore, a field of intervention rather than familiar ground, given that the pope never had the opportunity to go there. Since the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, with the opening of the Vatican Archives to researchers, Benedict XII’s relations with the peninsula have attracted the interest of historians such as Heinrich Otto,2 Guillaume Mollat,3 Gerolamo Biscaro, 4 Giovanni Tabacco,5 and Eugenio Duprè Theseider.6 This is not surprising, since Italian matters were among the major items of expenditure for the popes of the fourteenth century. Benedict XII inherited a particularly explosive situation in Italy, rent by factional struggles and where political regimes were being transformed and maturing. Indeed, in the first half of the fourteenth century, the ‘staggering increase in the number of signorie’7 is probably the most significant political phenomenon with which the popes had to deal, a phenomenon that affected territories under papal domination as well as northern Italy. In such a context of political instability, questions of orthodoxy, papal sovereignty, and, more broadly, government were central – even if the severity of these problems obviously depended on the juridical status of the territories. For this reason they are central to this chapter, although they will not be the whole issue. In these years, the diplomatic exchanges of the papacy were intense, whether with the communes, the lords, or the monarchical powers, such as the king of Naples, Robert of Anjou.8 Regarding Italian matters, most historians agree that there was a change of method during Benedict XII’s pontificate, with a particular emphasis on the difference in attitude and character from his predecessor. For Guillaume 2 H. Otto, ‘Benedikt XII als Reformator des Kirchenstates’, Römische Quartelschrift, 36 (1928), 59–110. 3 G. Mollat, The Popes at Avignon (New York, 1963); BXII: Pays autres, in particular the introduction by G. Mollat, ‘Benoît XII et l’Italie’, v–xxi. 4 G. Biscaro, ‘Le relazioni dei Visconti con la Chiesa: Azzone, Giovanni e Luchino – Benedetto XII’, Archivio storico lombardo, 47/3 (1920), 193–271. 5 G. Tabacco, ‘La tradizione guelfa in Italia durante il pontificato di Benedetto XII’, in Studi di storia medievale e moderna in onore di Ettore Rota (Rome, 1958), 95–148. 6 Duprè Theseider, I Papi di Avignone e la questione romana. 7 J.-C. Maire Vigueur, ‘Comune e signorie nelle province dello Stato della Chiesa’, in Signorie cittadine nell’Italia comunale, ed. J.-C. Maire Vigueur (Rome, 2013), 114. 8 S. Kelly, The New Solomon: Robert of Naples (1309–1343) and fourteenth-century kingship (Leiden, 2003).

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Mollat, Benedict was an ‘energetic reformer’, but ‘did not possess John XXII’s pugnacious temperament’ and ‘declared that he hated war’.9 For John Larner, ‘Benedict XII was averse to the shedding of blood’,10 while Giovanni Tabacco describes him as a ‘severe monk, theologian, upright bishop and zealous persecutor of the heretics’.11 It is true that the pontificate of John XXII seems to have represented a kind of climax in the fight against rebels of the Church of all kinds and in the judicial disqualif ication of the ‘tyrant-heretics’. Benedict XII indeed did not use the qualification of heretic to the same level as John XXII. This may be surprising at first sight, given his activity as inquisitor in previous years. However, as we shall see, the continuity between the two pontificates is perhaps stronger than might at first seem.

The Judicial Legacy of John XXII, or the Negotiated Orthodoxy To understand the Italian politics of Benedict XII a brief glance back at earlier developments is necessary. The long and turbulent pontificate of John XXII (1316–1334) was indeed characterized by, among other things, unprecedented judicial ‘harassment’ of Italian opponents of all kinds.12 This judicial activity was accompanied by military efforts in the north of the peninsula – especially under the banner of one of the main papal legates of this period, Bertrand du Pouget 13 – and in the Papal States, through the action of the papal rectors. Many of these opponents, described as rebels and tyrants by the Church, belonged to prestigious and extended families – such as the Visconti in the north and the Este or the Montefeltro in Romagna – which were attempting to create signorie and openly supported the Empire, first Henry VII and then Louis IV of Bavaria. But there were also among them many signori or lords (nobiles) who belonged to small communities of the March of Ancona, Romagna, or the Duchy of Spoleto. From the beginning of his pontificate, John XXII had been threatening all 9 Mollat, The Popes at Avignon, 33 and 110. 10 J. Larner, The Lords of Romagna: Romagnol society and the origins of the Signorie (New York, 1965), 79. 11 Tabacco, ‘La tradizione guelfa in Italia’, 101. 12 For a detailed analysis of these judicial cases, see S. Parent, Dans les abysses de l’infidélité: les procès contre les ennemis de l’Église en Italie au temps de Jean XXII (1316–1334) (Rome, 2014). I am progressively preparing editions of the most significant trials of his pontificate: against the Visconti in Milan, the Este in Ferrara, and a group of nobiles in Recanati in the March of Ancona. 13 See A. Jamme, ‘Le Languedoc en Italie? Réseaux politiques et recrutement militaire pendant la légation du cardinal Bertrand du Pouget (1319–1334)’, in Jean XXII et le Midi, CF, 45 (2012), 255–90.

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these opponents with lawsuits, and from then on they were considered to be ‘rebels’ of the Church (rebelles Ecclesie). He had excommunicated them, but in vain. That is why, from 1319 to 1320, he took the most important of them to court, although this time on charges of heresy. From that time on these opponents were not only considered as rebels or enemies of the peace, but also as manifest heretics (heretici manifesti): in other words, this was on a completely different scale.14 In these decades trials became a real mode de gouvernement for the popes and were an integral part of a complex political and diplomatic game, especially in the time of John XXII.15 The pontificate of Benedict XII did not represent a real hiatus if we consider the fact that many of these opponents had already returned to orthodoxy before the beginning of his pontificate, sometimes for very brief periods. Several of the nobles and lords involved in these trials for heresy in the early 1320s were finally absolved. Indeed, in a context of territorial fragmentation and political competition, these signori had to find ways to establish their domination and power in the long term. Regularizing links with the papacy and obtaining an apostolic vicariate could indeed be important steps toward legitimacy.16 Both John XXII and Benedict XII used the vicariate and sometimes resorted to former rebels and heretics. Among these famous turnarounds we can mention Rinaldo and Obizzo d’Este, condemned as heretici manifesti in 1324. The vicariate granted for a limited period by John XXII to the Este family in Ferrara is often considered as the first example of the recognition of a stable seigniorial domination in the Papal States. In September 1328, the Este sent two emissaries to Avignon. In early December, a papal bull absolved the Este of their ecclesiastical censures, and relates the fact that the emissaries came before the pope with nooses around their necks on behalf of their lords (‘habentes et gestantes circa collum funes in signum ingentiis contritionis de iis’).17 On 31 March 1329, the ban hanging over Ferrara was lifted, and on 29 June the 14 Parent, Dans les abysses de l’infidélité. 15 J. Chiffoleau, ‘Conclusion: le procès comme mode de gouvernement’, in L’età dei processi: inchieste tra politica e ideologia nel ’300 ed. A. Rigon and F. Veronese (Rome, 2009), 321–47. 16 G. de Vergottini, ‘Ricerche sulle origine del vicariato apostolico’, in Studi di storia e diritto in onore di Enrico Besta per il 40: anno del suo insegnamento, 4 vols (Milan, 1937–39), ii, 301–50; G. de Vergottini, ‘Note per la storia del vicariato apostolico durante il secolo XIV’, in Studi di storia e diritto in onore di Carlo Calisse, 3 vols (Milan, 1939–40), iii, 339–65. More recently, see A. Zorzi, ‘Ripensando i vicariati imperiali e apostolici’, in Signorie italiane e modelli monarchici, secoli XIII–XIV, ed. P. Grillo (Rome, 2013), 19–43. 17 The bull has been published in Annales ecclesiastici, ed. C. Baronio et al., 37 vols (Paris, 1608–1883), v, 394–5.

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vicariate was granted to Rinaldo I, Obizzo II, and Niccolò I for a period of ten years in return for an annual payment of 10,000 florins. Nevertheless, this nomination became effective only in 1332 when Obizzo received the certificate of absolution and renewed his promise of loyalty and obedience to the Church. Despite this official recognition, the tensions with the Church continued to arise, especially during the pontificate of Benedict XII, until Obizzo finally received the keys to the city under his successor, Clement VI, in July 1344. On this occasion, the vicariate of the Este was renewed for nine years and with the same financial conditions as in 1329. In February 1344, as related by the Chronicon Estense, Clement VI definitively cancelled all the trials initiated by John XXII and the bishop of Ferrara against Obizzo in the 1320s.18 The second half of the fourteenth century marked the beginning of a new phase of collaboration with the Church, and in the 1360s the Este – including Niccolò II – took part in the fight against the Visconti (who were supported by the Este in the 1320s, at the height of the rebellion). When Urban V went from Avignon to Rome, his escort was placed under the command of Niccolò d’Este.19 From that time, until the devolution to the Holy See in 1598, Ferrara’s destiny linked to the dynasty of the Este. In the March of Ancona, where anti-papal opposition was important, there had already been a great number of absolutions of rebels and dissidents before Benedict XII’s pontificate had begun, as we can see in the records of compositiones preserved in the Vatican Archives for this period, which record a part of the judicial activities of the judges in the service of the papal rectors. In the turbulent city of Recanati, in December 1328, those who had been condemned for rebellion and heresy a few years earlier returned to the bosom of the Church: the lords condemned in the trial of 1320, at least those who were still alive, appeared before the two emissaries sent by John XXII, the vice-rector of the March of Ancona, Foulque de Lapopie, and the bishop of Florence, Francesco Silvestri, apostolic nuncio, and recanted heresy.20 The ceremony took place near Recanati, in via publica, in the presence of many witnesses. The sentenced persons stood bareheaded and knelt as a sign of humility (capitibus denudatis et submissis ac genibus flexis).21 The request was granted by the papal emissaries, who then cancelled the 18 Chronicon Estense, ed. G. Bertoni and E.P. Vicini, in Ludovico Antonio Muratori, Rerum Italicarum Scriptores (Città di Castello, 1908), xv/iii, 119–20. 19 Storia di Ferrara, 7 vols (Ferrara, 1987–2004), v, 204–6. 20 The document has been published in J.A. Vogel, De Ecclesiis Recanatensi et Lauretana (Recanati, 1859), 93–108 (docs. 43 and 44). 21 Ibid., 101.

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different sentences and condemnations and proceeded to a restitution of their fama, status, privileges, and ecclesiastical and civil rights and offices (‘restituerunt in integrum ad famam, statum, dignitates et honores ecclesiasticos et mundanos et privilegia’).22 In 1331 and 1332, many supporters of the rebels and heretics, whether secular or ecclesiastical, paid compositiones to be absolved.23 Absolution was also given to the city of Fermo in 1333.24 Thus, all procedures initiated by the inquisitor Lorenzo da Mondaino were gradually cancelled, on the threshold of the pontificate of Benedict XII. The case of the Visconti is also complex, but, unlike the aforementioned cases, negotiations with the papacy extended throughout the pontificate of Benedict XII. In the early 1320s, some members of the family – in particular Matteo Visconti and his sons (Galeazzo, Luchino, Marco, Giovanni, and Stefano) – had been condemned as rebels of the Church and heretics, while many individuals or communal governments were also condemned for having supported them.25 What was at stake for those members of the Visconti family who were still alive in the 1330s was to be cleared of the accusation of heresy and to receive a general absolution. The negotiations with the Curia were mainly orchestrated by Giovanni and Azzo Visconti, lords of Milan between 1329 and 1339. Intense political and diplomatic negotiations had already been initiated in the second half of the 1320s, especially with the communes condemned for their support for the Visconti,26 but the pontificate of Benedict XII represented a key step in the process of the nullification of these proceedings. Under Benedict XII, some relief indeed seems to have taken place. The anonymous (and Ghibelline) chronicler of the Annales Mediolanenses, who had vehemently criticized John XXII’s attacks on Milan and the Visconti, and the illegitimacy of his proceedings, notes that Benedict XII acted with mercy and sweetness by promulgating the general absolution (‘Tunc papa clementer et dulciter quamdam generalem absolutionem promulgavit’).27 Nonetheless, the negotiations were very 22 Ibid., 107. 23 For example, Vatican City, ASV, Cam. Ap., Intr. et Ex. 111, fols 14r–25r for the year 1331; for the year 1332, ibid., fols 111r–20v (De compositionibus et absolutionibus). 24 F. Pirani, ‘I processi contro i ribelli della Marca anconitana durante il pontificato di Giovanni XXII’, in L’età dei processi, 207. 25 For a detailed discussion of these trials see S. Parent, Dans les abysses de l’infidélité, especially 33–85, 237–71. 26 See A. Jamme, ‘Des usages de la démocratie: deditio et contrôle politique des cités lombardes dans le “grand projet” de Jean XXII’, in Papst Johannes XXII: Konzepte und Verfahren seines Pontifikats, ed. H.-J. Schmidt and M. Rohde (Berlin, 2014), 279–341. 27 Annales Mediolanenses, in Rerum Italicarum Scriptores, xvi (Milan, 1730), 708.

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difficult and lasted for several years. Below I outline the major milestones, although without narrating these complex matters in detail.28 From 1335, several communes had requested that they be absolved of their condemnations.29 The famous lawyer Alberico da Rosciate was sent to Avignon in order to quash the proceedings that were led by the archbishop of Milan, Aicardo da Camodeia, in the early 1320s, denouncing the bias of the investigators in charge of these trials and the fact that the archbishop’s family were enemies of the Visconti (‘ita quod ex hoc ipsi dominus archiepiscopus et fratres Pax et Honestus erant inimici et suspecti illorum contra quos procedebant’).30 At the end of a long process, these negotiations led to the concession of a vicariate, in the same way as with the Este. On 7 May 1341, a papal bull cancelled a part of the proceedings that had been conducted twenty years earlier:31 Giovanni and Luchino Visconti, who were the only two sons of Matteo Visconti still alive at that time, were absolved from their sentences as heretics. After that, the sentences of many supporters ( fautores) of heretics in various communes of northern Italy were also cancelled. The sentences pronounced against Matteo and Galeazzo, however, remained valid.32 On 15 May, Giovanni and Luchino obtained the vicariate over Milan and its district, Piacenza, Lodi, and Crema. On the same day a bull was published absolving the inhabitants and communes of Milan, Pavia, Novara, Cremona, Vercelli, Como, Bobbio, and Soncino.33 This rehabilitation process was patently very difficult to initiate and required the creation of commissions during the summer of 1341: for example, to examine the cases of those persons who had been excommunicated and condemned as supporters of heretics, and who had died before the absolution. Reintegration into the Christian community required that 28 For a comprehensive account, see Biscaro, ‘Le relazioni dei Visconti con la Chiesa’; and F. Cognasso, ‘L’unificazione della Lombardia sotto Milano’, in Storia di Milano, V: la signoria viscontea (1310–1392) (Milan, 1955), 3–567, 260ff. 29 On 19 May 1335, for example, the communes of Como and Bergamo made such a request (ASV, A.A., Arm. I–XVIII, 6016); on the same day, the representatives of Bergamo declared they would no longer support the rebels and would not invade the places controlled by the Church (ibid., 6202). In August 1335, Crema and Cremona also asked for their absolution (ibid., 6017–6019). 30 C. Capasso, ‘La signoria viscontea e la lotta politico-religiosa con il papato nella prima metà del secolo XIV: contributo alle relazioni tra la Chiesa e i Visconti’, Bollettino della Società pavese di storia patria, 8 (1908), 265–317 and 408–54, at 439. 31 The document is edited in Annales Ecclesiastici, ed . C. Baronio et al., 37 vols (Paris, 1608–1883), vi, 246ff. 32 Cognasso, Storia di Milano, 290. 33 Ibid., 291.

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their bodies be moved to Christian burial sites.34 Indeed, Gerolamo Biscaro states that, in the latter case, the commission – which was composed of the bishops of Como, Cremona, and Lodi – had to examine 763 names.35 Finally, on 6 August, Giovanni and Luchino swore allegiance to Benedict XII. Galvano Fiamma, in his chronicle written in honour of the lords of Milan Azzo, Giovanni, and Luchino, discusses this cancellation, emphasizing once again the injustices suffered during the time of John XXII.36

A jugo tirannice servitutis: Italy under the Yoke of Tyranny during Benedict XII’s Pontificate37 The 1320s were evidently a period of turbulence in the struggle led by the papacy against the new forms of government. At first sight, as noted above, the situation seems to have been different during the pontificate of Benedict XII: indeed, he did not use trials against heresy as a recurrent weapon to fight his enemies. As Francesco Pirani recalls, the 1330s therefore somehow mark the decline ‘of the season of tyrants accused of heresy’.38 This is largely true. Nevertheless, when we look closely at the documentation produced during these years by the papal chancery or the papal officers in Italy, we notice that the gap between the two pontificates is not as obvious as it may at first seem.39 Benedict XII, just as John XXII did, remained particularly sensitive 34 ASV, Reg. Vat. 129, no. 43 (Benoît XII: lettres closes et patentes, ed. Vidal and Mollat, no. 9174). 35 Biscaro, ‘Le relazioni dei Visconti con la Chiesa’, 244–5: 182 of these deceased persons came from Milan and its districts, 135 from Novara, 109 from Pavia, 78 from Piacenza, 52 from Como, 46 from Bergamo, 44 from Cremona, 37 from Bobbio, 11 from Lodi, 9 from Vercelli, 6 from Soncino, and 3 from Brescia. 36 ‘[Benedict XII] f irst declared that all the trials instituted against the Visconti, dead or alive, were unfair, iniquitous, and full of falseness. That is why he declared that they had no weight or value, considering that these trials were not trials of the Church but trials of the archbishop of Milan and of the inquisitors’ (‘Primo declaravit quod omnes processus facti contra dominos Vicecomites tam vivos quam mortuos fuerunt injusti, iniqui et falsitate pleni. Unde promulgavit ipsos nullius ponderis vel valoris esse vel fuisse, inuendo quod ipsi processus non fuerant processus ecclesie, sed archiepiscopi Mediolanensis et inquisitorum’): G. Fiamma, Opusculum de rebus gestis ab Azon: Luchino et Johanne Vicecomitibus, ed. C. Castiglioni (Bologna, 1938), 42–3. 37 ASV, Reg. Vat. 135, fol. 15v, no. 42; Theiner, ii, nos 95, 67. 38 F. Pirani, ‘Il papato e i signori cittadini nell’Italia del Trecento’, in Signorie cittadine, ed. Vigueur, 517. 39 Some of the uses of tyranny in the papal documentation are analysed in S. Parent, ‘Tirannica pravitas. I poteri signorili, tra tirannia ed eresia:
 riflessioni sulla documentazione pontificia (XIII–XIV secolo)’, in Tiranni e tirannide nel Trecento italiano, ed. A. Zorzi (Rome, 2014), 103–26.

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to the problem of (good) government of the Papal States and the best way to preserve the interests of the Church and its subjects. In other words, denunciations of the damaging effects of tyranny are present in an almost obsessive way in the papal documentation. From this perspective, there are no notable innovations under Benedict XII, and both the vocabulary and images used in papal letters or bulls at that time are largely stereotyped. The first half of the fourteenth century was an age during which the signorie increased and consolidated, especially in the Papal States, as shown in Table 1. Table 1: Main signorie in the Papal States under Benedict XII40 Romagna Ferrara Ravenna Imola Faenza Cesena Rimini Bologna

The Este, from 1317 Da Polenta (except 1328–33) Alidosi, from 1334 Manfredi (1341–47) Francesco Ordelaffi (1334–57) Malatesta Taddeo Pepoli (1337–47)

March of Ancona Fano Fermo Camerino Fabriano San Severino Urbino Macerata Pesaro Osimo Tolentino

Malatesta l’Antico (1326–63) Mercenario da Monteverde (1331–40) Da Varano Alberghetto Chiavelli Smeduccio Smeducci Da Montefeltro Fredo and Vanni Mulucci (1325–40) Malatesta Lippaccio and Andrea Guzzolini (1320–47) Accorimbona

Umbria Perugia Spoleto Orvieto Foligno

Leggerio di Nicoluccio di Andreotto (c.1330–62) Pietro Pianciani (1335–42) Manno Monaldeschi (1334–37) Matteo Orsini (1341–45) Trinci (from 1305)

40 From Maire Vigueur, ‘Comune e signorie’, 116–7. See also idem, Comuni e signorie in Umbria, Marche e Lazio (Turin, 1987).

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Lazio Roma

Viterbo Rieti Anagni

Robert of Anjou, king of Naples (1313–36, with interruptions) Sciarra Colonna (1327–38) Faziolo di Vico (1329–38) Giovanni di Vico (1338–54) Robert of Anjou, king of Naples (until 1340) Benedetto di Bonifacio Caetani (1340–45)

Most of these rulers were denounced as tyrants by the papacy. But this accusation – that of being a tyrant – was extremely malleable, like that of heresy, and the enemies of the Church could suddenly become allies according to the political or diplomatic context. While much of northern and central Italy was affected to various degrees by political evolutions and ‘tyrannical excesses’, it is obvious that their denunciation was stronger in Romagna and in the March of Ancona. Romagna Despite the official return of the Este to orthodoxy since 1329 – which does not exclude tensions with the papacy during the following years – the situation in Romagna remained chaotic during the whole pontificate of Benedict XII. The chronicler Marco Battagli described Romagna in 1333, at the very end of the pontificate of John XXII, as a region in a state of generalized rebellion, destabilized by the military offensives of the turbulent signori in the area of Ravenna, Forlì, and Faenza, where tensions were concentrated.41 These tensions continued throughout the pontificate of Benedict XII. Indeed, in that area (as in other parts of Italy) the process of ‘dynasticization’, 42 which started a few decades earlier, intensified in this period: among the families that symbolized this new political reality, mention can be made of the Este in Ferrara, the da Polenta in Ravenna, the Malatesta in Rimini, the Ordelaffi in Forlì, the Manfredi in Faenza, and the Alidoli in Imola. 43 From the beginning of his pontificate, Benedict XII had sent many letters to the communes of Forlì, Forlimpopoli, Cesena, Faenza, Imola, Ravenna, 41 Marco Battagli, La Marcha, ed. F.A. Masserà, in Rerum Italicarum Scriptores (Città di Castello, 1912–13), xvi/3, 47: ‘Tota Romandiole patria rebellis efficitur’. 42 Maire Vigueur, ‘Comune e signorie’, 115. 43 For the general context, see Larner, The Lords of Romagna, and, more recently, Maire Vigueur, ‘Comune e signorie’.

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Cervia, Rimini, Bertinoro, Meldola, Castro Carrito, and Amendola. All these letters were written following exactly the same model, using the same topoi: they denounce the difficulties and the humiliations (turbationes, molestationes et pressuras) experienced by those who remained faithful to the Church, who can no longer live in peace. The pope also mentions how tough life is for those who stray from the right path, in contrast with the peace and sweetness that emanate from obedience to the Church (vestra mater et domina dulcis). 44 Therefore, after every occupation of a castrum loyal to the Church – and the castra were many in these years – threatening letters in which tyrannical perversions are denounced with various degrees of detail were published. Mention can here be made of the famous occupation of the castrum of Meldola, near Forlì, by Francesco Ordelaffi, which is emblematic: on 22 June 1335 the pope wrote a letter to the ‘tyrant’ in which he first denounced the audacity of the lord of Forlì, and the detestable excesses (detestandis excessibus) committed against the rights and property of the Church, before accusing him of tyrannically holding (detines tirannice occupatas) some communes or territories in submission to the Church, including Meldola, and thereby disrupting the peace in the area (per que status dicte provincie pacificus multipliciter perturbatur).45 Dozens of such letters, issued during the pontificates of John XXII and Benedict XII, have been preserved. Francesco Ordelaffi had indeed continued the struggle initiated by his predecessor Cecco Ordelaffi under John XXII. 46 Meldola finally returned to the bosom of the Church in August 1336.47 Yet, this return to orthodoxy did not mark the end of Ordelaffi’s provocations, and in 1339 Benedict XII, facing the failure of the diplomatic and military solutions, finally ordered that legal proceedings be instituted against him. The letters that took these tyrants to court are particularly stereotyped, as one can observe with the proceedings launched at the same time against Francesco Ordelaffi in Romagna and the Malatesta in the March of Ancona (see Appendix 1). Yet, it seems that injunctions made by the pope to pursue these rebels with spiritual weapons, that is to say excommunication and interdicts, did not have concrete and immediate effects, and needed to be frequently reaffirmed. 48 44 BXII: Pays autres, i, nos 345–50. 45 Theiner, i, 5. 46 Cecco Ordelaffi had been the leader of the Ghibelline forces with Ostasio da Polenta and the count of Claromonte, the Imperial vicar in Romagna. 47 For a detailed description, see Mollat, ‘Benoît XII et l’Italie’, xiv. 48 Ibid.

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But the example of Romagna in the age of Benedict XII is also interesting for the strategic role played by Bologna in the papal plan. After the pitiful end of the lordship established in the city from 1327 by the papal legate Bertrand du Pouget, one of the most emblematic and powerful legates of the first half of the fourteenth century, Benedict’s pontificate was marked by the rise of Bertrand’s successor, Taddeo Pepoli.49 The city of Bologna had represented a major prize since the 1320s, and John XXII had considered transferring the papal court to the city.50 Bertrand du Pouget was to spearhead this plan. Initially, in the early 1320s, he was active in northern Italy, later going to Romagna to take possession of Bologna. After being appointed lord of several cities, he was greeted in early 1327 with great pomp and ceremony.51 After having been elected lord of the city by the Consiglio del Popolo, Bertrand du Pouget undertook a series of reforms of the administration and government of the city, ordering the revision of the communal statutes.52 But the discontent of the population was an increasingly important factor in these years, especially because the French had progressively being laying their hands on ecclesiastical charges and benefices in Bologna, and as a result of the tax burden imposed on the commune by papal officers. In other words, what should have been a ‘springboard’53 from which to regain control of the papal territories in central Italy was turning into a rout, thus leading to years of instability. The political career of Taddeo Pepoli took off thanks to this rout, leading to his nomination as lord of Bologna in September 1337. The new master of the city recognized no higher authority. Relations with Benedict XII thus rapidly worsened, despite a diplomatic mission being sent to Avignon. At this point, the pope decided to initiate legal proceedings against the inhabitants of Bologna. He threatened the commune with ecclesiastical censures, in particular the interdict, if papal authority was not restored. The papal letter relates in detail the events leading to the expulsion of the legate in 1334, describing the enormitates or ‘atrocious excesses committed against God and the Roman Church’ (atroces excessus adversus Deum et Romanam

49 On the situation in Bologna in these years, see G. Antonioli, ‘Conservator pacis et iusticie’: la signoria di Taddeo Pepoli a Bologna (1337–1347) (Bologna, 2004), and A.L. Trombetti Budriesi, ‘Bologna 1334–1376’, in Storia di Bologna, ii, Bologna nel Medioevo, ed. O. Capitani (Bologna, 2007), 761–866. 50 Larner, Lords of Romagna, 79; more recently, see Jamme, ‘Des usages de la démocratie’, 281. 51 On these ceremonies of deditio, see ibid., especially 298–9. 52 These modifications are described in Antonioli, Conservator pacis et iusticie, 39–41. 53 Ibid., 42.

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Ecclesiam).54 Shouting ‘Death to the legate!’, the people of Bologna besieged the fortress to which he had fled for ten days and from where he escaped in extremis. His familiar, Bertrand de Gard, was less fortunate: the letter tells us that he was captured, ripped apart, chopped into pieces, and thrown to the dogs. The pope considered the ‘atrocities’ that were committed at that time as a ‘crime of lese-majesty’, one of the most serious charges that could be levelled against someone.55 The account of this event written by the pope seems to have had an impact, and its key elements can be found reproduced or condensed in the chronicles that mention the situation in Bologna at that time. This also seems to be the case with the anonymous chronicler of the Annales Mediolanenses (see Appendix 2).56 Nevertheless, although Benedict XII compares the assault of the Bolognese citizens against the legate with the crime of lese-majesty in the letter of 1337, once again heresy does not appear at any point – even though it had been considered as a crime of lese-majesty since the Innocent III’s pontificate. The city was finally placed under interdict, but diplomatic contacts with Avignon were never cut off and the negotiations were intensive throughout all these years. The pope sent an apostolic nuncio and demanded the recognition of the dominium and iurisdictio of the Church, ordering that all citizens over fourteen years of age were to swear an oath of allegiance – otherwise, there would be sanctions.57 By the very end of the pontificate, after several years of tension, the situation seems to have calmed down: Benedict XII also agreed to moderate his demands, and on 14 June 1340 he finally lifted the ban. The bishop of Como, Bertramino Parravicini, took possession of the city and was nominated bishop, while Taddeo Pepoli received the keys of the city and became papal vicar for three years.58 Indeed, this case is emblematic of the strategy of modus vivendi favoured by Benedict XII in many situations; as Guido Antonioli writes, thanks to the threat of using

54 On these notions of enormitas et atrocitas, see J. Théry, ‘Atrocitas/enormitas: esquisse pour une histoire de la catégorie de “crime énorme” du Moyen Âge à l’époque moderne’, Clio@ Themis: Revue électronique d’histoire du droit, 4 (March 2011): http://www.cliothemis.com/ Clio-Themis-numero-4 (consulted on 22 April 2017). 55 J. Chiffoleau, ‘Sur le crime de majesté médiéval’, in Genèse de l’État moderne en Méditerranée (Rome, 1993), 183–213. 56 This was a common practice: for example, the famous papal bull condemning Ezzelino da Romano as a heretic in 1254 contributed to the diffusion of his myth. The chronicler Galvano Fiamma, in the next century, incorporated the substance of this bull into his Manipulus Florum; see Parent, ‘Tirannica pravitas’, 123–4. 57 Antonioli, Conservator pacis et iusticie, 132–3. 58 Ibid., 134–5.

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spiritual weapons and the distribution of papal vicariates, such a strategy allowed the pope to preserve, formally at least, the rights of the Church.59 The March of Ancona Among all the papal territories, the March of Ancona is the place where political instability was undoubtedly the strongest in the first half of the fourteenth century, especially during the pontificate of John XXII.60 This agitation is apparent in the many letters sent by the papal chancery to officers, ecclesiastics, troublemakers, or otherwise allies. Despite the absolutions granted at the end of John XXII’s pontificate, tensions remained very high. During Benedict XII’s pontificate, one of the leaders of the resistance to papal domination was undoubtedly Mercenario di Monteverde. The political career of this Ghibelline lord had begun under John XXII.61 Mercenario took part in many raids on horseback (cavalcata) in the territory of Macerata, where the papal rector had established his residence, and took possession of many castra loyal to the Church. In the early 1320s he became the leader of the Ghibelline faction of Fermo, and the zone of Fermo, Osimo, Recanati, and Fabriano became the weak spot of the resistance to papal power. The arrival in Italy of Louis IV of Bavaria, in the late 1320s, represented a key moment in Mercenario’s political ascent. In 1331, he managed to stabilize his power in Fermo. After a moment period of calm at the very end of the pontif icate of John XXII, tensions started again under Benedict XII, and lasted until the death of Mercenario in 1340. Numerous letters provide evidence for these tensions,62 and the pope, as he did with many other signori, initiated a trial against the one he described as ‘tirannus utique pessimus and ingratus’.63 If the vocabulary of excess and enormity is present, the pope, however, never initiated a trial for heresy, as in other cases mentioned above. The rector of the March of Ancona increased the prosecutions against communes and lords or political rulers in the late 1330s. In this context, at the request of Benedict XII, an inquiry was held on the political situation in the March of Ancona, the results of which have been edited by Francesco Pirani; I shall return to these matters later. Thanks to the deposition of witnesses, 59 Ibid., 135. 60 Maire Vigueur, ‘Comune e signorie’, 118–9. 61 For a general overview of his career, see A. Falcioni, ‘Monteverde, Mercennario’, in Dizionario biografico degli italiani, 76 (2012). For the situation in Fermo, see F. Pirani, Fermo (Spoleto, 2010). 62 BXII: Pays autres, nos. 262, 267, 691, 823, 975, 1109, 1515, 2272, 2368–9, 2619, 2716, 2733–8. 63 ASV, Reg. Vat. 131, fol. 55v, no. cxcvii.

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we can list the rulers considered as tyrants in the region at the beginning of the 1340s (Table 2). Table 2: The ‘tyrants’ in the March of Ancona at the beginning of the 1340s64 Name

Area of domination

Galeotto Malatesta Pesaro, Fano and Fossombrone Galasso and Nolfo da Montefeltro Urbino and castra of Montefeltro Branchino Brancaleoni Castel Durante (Urbania) and Sant’Angelo in Vado Neri della Faggiola Mercatello sul Metauro (Massa Trabaria) Sons of Ribaldo and Muziolo Corinaldo Mainardo di Tommasuccio Montalboddo (Ostro) Lomo Simonetti Jesi and castra of the contado Lippacio and Andrea Guzzolini Osimo and castra of the contado Rinaldo Staffolo Andrea da Accola Apiro Sons of Pagnone Cima Cingoli Alberghetto Chiavelli Fabriano and Roccacontrada (Arcevia) Borgaruccio Ottoni Matelica Fredo and Vanni Mulucci Macerata Cicco di Pietro Civitanova Gorgerio di Malpelo Montemilone (Pollenza) Camerino and San Ginesio Gentile and Giovanni da Varano Smeduccio Smeducci San Severino Accorimbona Accorimboni Tolentino Puccio di Pietro Montesanto (Potenza Picena) Lamberto di Tebaldo Montelupone Lomo da Montecchio Montecchio (Treia) Sant’Elpidio a Mare Matteuccio and Gerardino Fermo and some castra of the Mercenario da Monteverde contado Napoleone and Federico da Amandola Brunforte

faction

Guelf Ghibelline Guelf Ghibelline Guelf Guelf Ghibelline Ghibelline Guelf Ghibelline Guelf Ghibelline Ghibelline Guelf Guelf Ghibelline Guelf Guelf Guelf Guelf Guelf Ghibelline Ghibelline Ghibelline Ghibelline

To conclude, it must be stressed that the situation was little better in the other Papal States: the Duchy of Spoleto had to face many difficulties,65 the 64 List drawn up by F. Pirani, Tiranni e città nello Stato della Chiesa: informatio super statu provincie Marchie Anconitane (1341) (Fermo, 2012), 37–8. 65 C. Reydellet-Guttinger, L’administration pontificale dans le duché de Spolète (1305–1352) (Florence, 1975).

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situation in Rome was unstable too, and the struggle between the Orsini and the Colonna was intense;66 meanwhile, in the area of Rome, where the influence of the baroni was very important, as in Campania and Maritime, the popes had trouble imposing their power and sovereignty.67 In the latter region especially, Benedict XII seemed to have had difficulty controlling the elections of the podestà. He wrote regularly to the rectors to condemn the tyrannical excesses of those who had been elected by the communes. Tyrannia, in those years, was not the prerogative of the signori. A letter dated 1 October 1336 and sent to the rector Roger de Vintron denounces the podestà who ‘rule tyrannically and oppress the subjects [of the Church]’, acting as rebels (‘qui regunt tirannice opprimendo subditos, ac tibi et aliis nostris et ecclesie Romane officialibus rebellando’).68

Government through Inquest Consequently, in such an agitated period, the issue of government of the Italian territories was central. The main difficulty for the Roman pontiffs was to enforce the sovereignty of the Church over the local populations.69 In this context, political and administrative inquiries played an important role – especially since the pope never went to Italy in person. In recent years there has been renewed interest in this investigation process among historians, most notably French historians specializing in the papacy or the monarchy.70 As for the pontificate of Benedict XII, this has been at the focus of historians’ attention for some time. Guillaume Mollat, for example, provided an analytical framework that still remains largely valid.71 These investigations were generally assigned to apostolic nuncios and not to legates – even if some of them in practice had almost as much power as a legate. Indeed, as recently shown by Armand Jamme in a paper on papal diplomacy in Italy during the Avignon period, the pontificate of 66 On political life in Rome in the fourteenth century, see the overview by J.-C. Maire Vigueur, L’autre Rome: une histoire des Romains à l’époque communale (XIIe–XIVe s.) (Paris, 2010). 67 Mollat, ‘Benoît XII et l’Italie’, xvii. 68 ASV, Reg. Vat. 131, fol. 91r, no. 334; BXII: Pays autres, no. 1102; Theiner, ii, 16–7, no. 31. 69 A. Jamme, ‘Entre révélation des réalités et propagande politique, l’enquête et ses desseins dans l’État pontifical aux XIIIe et XIVe siècles’, in Quand gouverner c’est enquêter: les pratiques politiques de l’enquête princière (Occident, XIIIe–XIVe siècles), ed. T. Pécout (Paris, 2010), 271–2. 70 For example, L’enquête au Moyen Âge, ed. C. Gauvard (Rome, 2008); Pécout, Quand gouverner, c’est enquêter. L’enquête en questions: de la réalité à la ‘vérité’ dans les modes de gouvernement (Moyen Âge–temps modernes), ed. L. Verdon and A. Mailloux (Paris, 2014). 71 Mollat, ‘Benoît XII et l’Italie’.

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Benedict XII did not use cardinal-legates as instruments of representation, and from this perspective constituted a parenthesis. This ‘system’ was only reactivated under his successor, Clement VI.72 Therefore, apostolic nuncios, whose position in the ecclesiastical hierarchy was of a lower rank, performed most of the diplomatic missions of the Holy See during these years. Their duties had expanded and diversified, especially during the pontificate of John XXII: ecclesiastical tax collection, peacekeeping missions in papal provinces, circulation of the important decisions adopted in Avignon, among others.73 But, according to Jamme, what was original about Benedict XII’s pontificate on this point was the development of a particular type of nuncio, the ‘nuncio-reformer’. Indeed, some of the investigations ordered by the papacy in Italy were partly motivated by the will to ensure the integrity of the papal officers in the papal provinces, thereby bringing abuses to an end. This ‘reforming’ dimension is for many historians one of the main characteristics of the pontificate of Benedict XII, who is considered a ‘meticulous reformer’.74 Indeed, mention must be made here of three major investigations particularly representative of his pontificate and his political practice. The mission entrusted to the nuncio Bertrand de Deaux, archbishop of Embrun, was the first of these great reforming missions, lasting from May 1335 to May 1338. The letters they exchanged for years are the main source of information on that mission, but many other documents have disappeared.75 To put a stop to the excesses of papal administration, Benedict XII largely renewed the papal agents. To prepare the mission and the arrival of his nuncio, a newly appointed rector investigated these abuses in order to ‘correct excesses of the officers’ (officialium et aliorum corrigendis excessibus).76 Bertrand de Deaux began his mission with a visit to the Angevin territories in Naples before going to Sicily, where he met Frederik of Trinacria and formed diplomatic negotiations, and finally to Campania, Maremma, and the Patrimony of Saint Peter. He also stopped in Rome, where he had to settle the conflict between the Orsini and the Colonna, after which he went to the Duchy of 72 A. Jamme, ‘Anges de la paix et agents de conflictualité: nonces et légats dans l’Italie du XIVe siècle’, in Les légats pontificaux: paix et unité de l’Église, de la restructuration grégorienne à l’aube du concile de Trente (mi XIe–mi XVIe), ed. H. Millet and P. Montaubin (Turnhout, forthcoming). 73 Ibid. 74 Mollat, ‘Benoît XII et l’Italie’, v. 75 The mission is related in detail ibid., v–xi. See also U. Aloisi, ‘Benedetto XII e Bertrando arcivescovo Ebredunense riformatore nella Marca d’Ancona’, Atti e memorie della Deputazione di Storia Patria per le Marche, n.s. 3 (1906), 412–30. 76 BXII: Pays autres, 561–6.

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Spoleto and finally to the March of Ancona. Beyond the will to ‘moralize’ the administration of the papal provinces, at all levels, and to reform and reorganize justice, his mission also aimed at firmly punishing those who threatened the patrimony and interests of the Church. This was effected, as I mentioned above, by instituting legal proceedings against the most turbulent rulers or ‘tyrants’, or by trying to make communes pay the fines that they had accumulated under John XXII. In short, to quote Jamme, the pope used Bertrand de Deaux as ‘an instrument of knowledge and government […] just as if Bertrand Deaux was his legate and general vicar in the Peninsula’.77 The second emblematic mission of this pontificate was entrusted to Jean de Amelio, archdeacon of Fréjus and cleric of the Apostolic Chamber, from October 1338 to June 1340. Like that of Bertrand de Deaux, his mission was multifaceted. Its first purpose was to transfer the archives of the papacy, kept in Assisi, to Avignon. The mission therefore aimed at creating an inventory and reclassifying the papal treasure in order to sort out what had to be brought to Avignon and what instead could be left in Assisi.78 After this mission, Jean returned to Avignon, but Benedict XII rapidly sent him back to Italy to try to correct abuses in the Papal States, as Bertrand de Deaux had begun to do. In particular, he was to put an end to the abuses and embezzlement committed by officers serving in the papal territories, including treasurers, collectors, and sub-collectors. However, Jean’s activities gave rise to so many complaints that, in the summer of 1340, the pope ordered him to return immediately to Avignon and disavowed him, considering his actions as less than useless.79 Finally, the third inquiry which deserves to be mentioned was that entrusted by Benedict XII to Jean du Périer, canon of Fréjus and papal collector in Tuscany, who also served as a nuncio.80 His task was to provide an overview of the political situation in the March of Ancona – as had already been prepared for other papal territories at the time of John XXII. The inquiry was conducted in spring 1341, and is known as the informatio super statu provincie Marcie Anconitane. The manuscript is preserved in the Collectoriae series in the Vatican Archives. As mentioned above, this document has been edited by Francesco Pirani, who completed the very 77 Jamme, ‘Entre révélation des réalités et propagande politique’, 273–4. 78 On this mission and the inventory produced on this occasion, see V. Theis, Le gouvernement pontifical du Comtat Venaissin (Rome, 2012), in particular 86–90. 79 Mollat, ‘Benoît XII et l’Italie’, xiii; Jamme, ‘Entre révélation des réalités et propagande politique’, 274–5. 80 And not as a legate, as F. Pirani says. At the beginning of the informatio, his title is clearly mentioned: ‘in the regions of Tuscia and Genova nuncio and delegate of the Apostolic See’ (‘in partibus Tuscie et Ianue sedis apostolice nuntius et delegatus’): Pirani, Tiranni e città, 59.

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partial edition made by Augustin Theiner in the nineteenth century.81 However, unlike Pirani, Jamme understates the scale and importance of this mission, which in his view was neither solemn nor a high point in the history of the province.82 Nevertheless, this is still an interesting and original document. The originality of this investigation lies in the fact that, unlike the others mentioned above, it was based on a call for witnesses to provide testimony during the tour of the nuncio, who in this way conducted a real ‘opinion survey’ on political governance in that region.83 The theme of obedience and disobedience was obviously very important in this investigation. Thirty-eight people gave oral or written testimonies over eighteen days. The tyrannical abuses that, according to the pope, were infecting the province are, of course, central to the testimonies, and the harmfulness of most of the signorie is clearly denounced: the witnesses criticized the tirannica pravitas and the libido dominandi of most lords.84 Conversely, the politics of the rectors is generally described as positive. This informatio, transmitted to Benedict XII, did not seem to have any immediate effects, leading Jamme to offer the hypothesis that it was only a few years later with Albornoz, from 1353, that the ecclesiastical authorities sought to provide an answer to the expectations formulated at this time.85 Most of these inquiries were directed against officers who served the rectors, but Benedict XII also criticized the conduct of some churchmen, including inquisitors. Money was at the heart of most of these investigations, and criticism often came from people who considered themselves as having been dispossessed by inquisitors and who sent complaints to Avignon, as well as from Church authorities, who felt that they had not received the amounts due to them. In thirteenth- and fourteenth-century Italy, trials against inquisitors for such abuses are frequent. Indeed, inquisitors had to provide detailed accounts of their activities to their hierarchy – such as the treasurers of the papal provinces – and had to pay one-third of their revenues to the Apostolic Chamber. Inquisitorial courts had libri or quaterni 81 Theiner, ii, 106–18, no. 128; see also Pirani’s recent edition of this investigation: Tiranni e città nello Stato della Chiesa, 59–108 (for the edition), and 57–8 (for the description of this manuscript, composed of 37 folios). This informatio is also analysed by Jamme in ‘Entre révélation des réalités et propagande politique’, 276–81. See also F. Pirani, ‘L’inchiesta legatizia del 1341 sulle condizioni politiche nella Marca’, Atti e Memorie della Deputazione di Storia Patria per le Marche, 103 (1998), 199–218. 82 Jamme, ‘Entre révélation des réalités et propagande politique’, 277, n. 84. 83 Ibid. 84 On this point, see the analysis by Pirani, Tiranni e città, in particular 28–44. 85 Jamme, ‘Entre révélation des réalités et propagande politique’, 281

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racionum in which they kept written records of all their activities. Bertrand de Deaux, as a nuncio, was put in charge of suspending inquisitors who were not satisfactory, and whose avarice and greed were criticized, and replacing them with competent persons. When necessary, Benedict XII instituted legal proceedings against inquisitors. Among these proceedings, one can mention the trial initiated by the pope against the Franciscan inquisitor Lorenzo of Ancona, who in 1335 had tried to cancel the condemnations of the Guzzolini brothers, rebels against the Church and ‘tyrants’ of the commune of Osimo in the March of Ancona who had been condemned as heretics in the early 1320s. The inquisitor was summoned to a consistory in Avignon in spring 1338 in order to justify his decision in front of the pope, but he managed to escape on 1 May, before the members of the commission who had interviewed him had been able to sentence him. This affair provides good testimony to the tensions surrounding the judicial struggle against the enemies and rebels of the Church in these decades.86 In the same years, the pope also prosecuted a number of Church dignitaries, such as the bishop of Siena, Donosdeo de’ Malavolti.87 To conclude this brief overview of the policy of Benedict XII towards Italy, which must be considered as a policy of appeasement, it should be underlined that the pope did not fully succeed in taking complete control of the papal territories, nor yet in asserting himself as a temporal lord. For historians such as Guillaume Mollat, ‘the favours granted to the tyrants only served to consolidate their independence and to free them from papal authority’.88 It was not until the second half of the fourteenth century, with the impetus provided by the famous cardinal Gil Alvarez of Albornoz, that this ‘political revolution’ took place.89 Sylvain Parent, École Normale Supérieure de Lyon

86 For a comprehensive overview of this case and the edition of an unpublished document, see S. Parent, ‘L’annulation d’une sentence de condamnation pour hérésie contre les seigneurs d’Osimo sous Benoît XII (1335): du nouveau sur l’affaire Lorenzo d’Ancona’, MEFRM, 123 (2011), 191–241. 87 See J. Théry ‘Faide nobiliaire et justice inquisitoire de la papauté à Sienne au temps des Neuf: les recollectiones d’une enquête de Benoît XII contre l’évêque Donosdeo de’ Malavolti (ASV, Cam. Ap., Collect. 61A and 404A)’, in Als die Welt in di Akten kam: Prozesschrifgut im europaischen Mittelalter, ed. S. Lepsius and T. Wetzstein (Frankfurt, 2008), 275–345. 88 Mollat, The Popes at Avignon, 114. 89 Jamme, ‘Entre révélation des réalités et propagande politique’, 259.

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Appendix 1 Two Letters of Benedict XII for Prosecuting Lords in Romagna, 25 August 13399091 Francesco Ordelaffi90

Malatesta91

Benedictus episcopus etc. Venerabili fratri Raymbaldo, episcopo Imolensi, Romandiole rectori, salutem etc. Cum Franciscus de Ordalafis cum communi civitatis Forliviensis aliisque suis complicibus et sequacibus deum, ac nos et Romanam ecclesiam graviter offendere non verentes, guerras et insultus hostiles movere, derobationes, captiones, occupationes violentas iurium et bonorum et alios horribiles et detestandos excessus in provincia Romandiole seu comitatu Bretenorii, quorum rector existis, perpetrare nequiter non absque turbatione eiusdem status provincie pacifici presumpserint, sicut infesta multorum relatione percepimus, et presumunt: fraternitati tue districtius iniungendo mandamus quatinus tam secundum iura quam tenores Constitutionum felicis recordationis Iohannis papa XXII, predecessoris nostri, olim editarum, per quas diverse spirituales et temporales pene ac sentencie contra presumentes talia vel similia infliguntur, adversus prefatos Franciscum, communitatem et singulares personas ecclesiasticas vel seculares, cuiuscumque status, ordinis, dignitatis vel conditionis existant, etiam si pontificali vel quavis alia prefulgeant dignitate, super premissis vel similibus in eadem provincia vel comitatu quomodolibet deliquentes, procedere solerti, adhibita diligencia, quando et quotiens expediens fuerit, non postponas, et taliter super hiis tam exequendo penas et sentencias contentas in eisdem Constitu­ tionibus quam eas, sicut exegerint excessus et inobediencie delinquentium, aggravando vel alias procedendo, prout rationis fuerit, et tibi videbitur habiturus quod repressis excessibus status observetur predictus, et illesa inter improbos iusticia perseveret tuaque circumspectio exinde debeat merito commendari. Datum Avinione, VIII. kal. septembris, pontificatus nostri anno quinto.

Benedictus episcopus, etc. Dilecto filio Iohanni de Riparia, priori domorum Urbis et Pisarum hospitalis sancti Iohannis Ierosolimitani, rectori Marchie Anconitane, salutem etc. Cum nonnulli de domo Malatestinorum cum suis com­ plicibus etc., ut in superiori, in Marchia Anconitana eius rector existis, perpe­ trare nequiter non absque turbatione eiusdem status Marchie pacifici presumpserit, sicut infesta multorum relatione percepimus et presumunt: discretioni tue districtius iniungendo mandamus quatinus tam secundum iura quam tenores Constitutionum felicis recordationis Iohannis pape XXII, predecessoris nostri, olim editarum, per quas diverse spirituales et temporales pene ac sententie contra presumentes talia vel similia infliguntur adversus eosdem de domo Malatestinorum super premissis vel similibus in eadem Marchia quomodolibet deliquentes procedere ac procedi facere solerti, adhibita diligencia, quando et quotiens fuerit expediens, non postponas, et taliter super hiis tam exequendo et exequi faciendo penas et sententias contentas in eisdem Constitutionibus quam eas, sicut exegerint excessus et inobediencie deliquentium, aggravando et alias procedendo, ac aggravari et procedi faciendo, prout rationis fuerit, et tibi videbitur habiturus quod repressis excessibus status observetur predictus, et illesa inter improbos justicia perseveret. Datum Avinione, VIII. kal. septembris, pontificatus nostri anno quinto.

90 BXII: Pays autres, no. 2497; edited by Theiner, ii, no. 82. 91 BXII: Pays autres, no. 2498; edited by Theiner, ii, no. 83.

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Francesco Ordelaffi

Malatesta

From Benedict, Bishop, etc., to the Venerable Brother Rambaldo, Bishop of Imola, Rector of Romagna, etc.,

From Benedict, Bishop, etc., to his Very Dear Son, Giovanni of Riparia, Rector of the March of Ancona, Greetings, etc.

Francesco Ordelaffi, with the commune of Forlì, as well as with other accomplices and allies, fearless of gravely offending God, ourself, and the Roman Church, has set off wars and savage attacks, unjustly pillaged, abducted, and violently usurped rights and property. He has also committed other horrible and hateful excesses in the Romagna province and in the county of Bertinoro, where you are rector. He continues even now to disturb its state of peace as we have learned from numerous reports of hostilities. According to the law and to the terms of the Constitutions once issued by our predecessor Pope John XXII of blessed memory, various spiritual and temporal punishments and sentences are to be inflicted upon those who dare such behaviour or its like. And so in brotherhood we summon you, ordering you most forcefully to not delay in prosecuting said Francesco with due diligence each time and however many times necessary. You must do so as well with the community and every one of the clerks and laymen, whatever their status, order, rank, or condition, even if they bear a pontifical or any other rank, should they commit an offence among the aforesaid or of their like in this province or in any other county. The punishments and sentences contained in these same Constitutions must also be carried out or even increased as much as is demanded by the disobedience of the wrongdoer. Proceed in whatever manner reason demands and which seems to you apt to maintain the observance of the aforesaid law once these excesses have been put down so that justice will endure in the midst of evil.

As indicated above, certain members of the House of Malatesta with their accomplices have dared to act unjustly in the March of Ancona where the rector resided. They continue even now in disturbing the peace of the March as we have learned from numerous reports of hostilities. According to the law and to the terms of the Constitutions once issued by our predecessor Pope John XXII of blessed memory, various spiritual and temporal punishments and sentences are to be inflicted upon those who dare such behaviour or its like. And in discretion so we summon you, ordering you most forcefully to not delay in prosecuting with due diligence, each time and however many times necessary, the members of the House of Malatesta on the subject of the aforesaid, should they commit any of the aforesaid crimes or their like in the March. The punishments and sentences contained in these same Constitutions must also be carried out or even increased as much as is demanded by the disobedience of the wrongdoer. Proceed in whatever manner reason demands and which seems to you apt to maintain the observance of the aforesaid law once these excesses have been put down so that justice will endure in the midst of evil.

Given at Avignon, the eighth of the calends of September, the fifth year of our reign.

Given at Avignon, the eighth of the calends of September, the fifth year of our reign.

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Appendix 2 The End of the signoria of Bertrand du Pouget in Bologna Letter of Benedict XII92

Annales Mediolanenses93

ac pluribus continuatis diebus, pulsatis hostili more campanis, ad premeditate diutius eiusdem proditionis facinus perpetrandum in unum Bononiensis populus flagitioso et sacrilego ausu eundem episcopum Ostiensem, apostolice sedis Legatum, in castro per eum constructo pro eadem Romana ecclesia, sito infra civitatem predictam, cum nullas tunc talium machinationum et proditionum verisimiliter formidaret insidias, residentem agredientes hostiliter obsederunt, eumque per decem dies continuos et amplius tenuerunt obsessum, ac conflatis eorum robore et virtute, cum balistis et aliis bellicis instrumentis adversus dictum legatum, honorabile membrum Romane ecclesie partemque corporis Romani pontificis, et de latere eius missum, non absque crimine lese sedis apostolice maiestatis proiciendo lapides et quadrellos nequiter et hostiliter expugnarunt; […] nonnullos ex eis familiares eiusdem Bononiensis episcopi crudeliter occidendo, inter quos Bertrandus de Glar, familiaris eiusdem episcopi Bononiensis, feritatis detestande sevitia evisceratus extitit et per frustra concisus, eius carnibus datis in escam canibus et proiectis.

Isto tempore Bertrandus legatus summi Pontificis nuper factus Ostiensis episcopus, qui erat in Bononia, cum forti exercitu obsedit Ferrariam. Supervenit Pinalla de Aliprandis, cum DC militibus de Mediolano, qui diversis proeliis obsidionem amovit, exercitum ecclesiae exterminavit, et civitatem Ferrariensem de mirabili miseria liberavit die XIII aprilis. Post pauca cives de Bononia contra legatum dominum suum insurrexerunt. Eum in castro ecclesiae, quod erat in Bononia, decem diebus obsede­ runt. Fame perurgente castrum obtinuerunt supposito igne et fagittis emissis. Quem­ dam de familia legati eviceraverunt; ejus membra canibus ejecerunt et familiam spoliaverunt, et duris tormentis effecerunt. Legatum vituperabiliter de Bononia expulerunt die XVII septembris. Sic crimen lesae majestatis Sedis Apostolicae incur­ rerunt. […] Nec propter tantum excessum civitas Bononie interdicto ecclesiastico supposita fuit.

92 Letter reproduced in Theiner, ii, 28–3, no. 523. 93 Annales Mediolanenses, col. 708.

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Letter of Benedict XII

Annales Mediolanenses

and after having rung the bells for days and days, as is the custom in war, the people of Bologna decided unanimously to commit a crime, that of a long contemplated treason. With scandalous and sacrilegious boldness the people attacked this same bishop of Ostia in order to besiege him as though he were an enemy. This legate of the Apostolic Seat resided in the castle he had built for the said Roman Church, located inside the said city. He had no logical reason to fear any plot hatched by such machinations and treason. They laid siege for over ten days. Then, puffed up with pride from their strength and their courage, they launched stones and bolts with catapults and other machines of war against this said legate, an honourable member of the Roman Church and part of the Roman pontifical body, an envoy from its own flanks. Not without risking the crime of lese-majesty against the Apostolic Seat, they attacked their enemy […] certain familiars of said bishop were killed, among them, Bertrand of Glar. With hateful and bestial cruelty he was disembowelled and cut into pieces, his flesh thrown as food to the dogs.

At this time, Bertrand of Pouget, legate of the supreme pontiff, now bishop of Ostia, was in Bologna and laid siege to Ferrara with a great army. Pinalla of Aliprandis, arriving from Milan with 600 knights, put an end to the siege with various battles, exterminated the army of the Church and liberated the city of Ferrara from very great misery on the thirteenth of April. Shortly afterward the citizens of Bologna revolted against their lord, the legate. They besieged him for ten days in the fortress of the Church located in Bologna. They took the fortress by starving the inhabitants and set fire to it, assailing it with arrows. They disembowelled a family member of the rector, threw his limbs to the dogs, despoiled the family, and practised harsh tortures. They shamefully expelled him from Bologna on the seventeenth of September. Thus they committed the crime of lese-majesty […] Because of these excesses, the city of Bologna was put under ecclesiastical ban.

7.

Benedict XII and the Outbreak of the Hundred Years’ War Barbara Bombi

Abstract This chapter addresses the nature of Anglo-papal relations in the years that preceded the outbreak of the Hundred Years’ War – namely the period between 1334, when Benedict XII was elected, and the summer of 1338, when Edward III left England for the continent and the hostilities between England and France began. The chapter discusses how effective Benedict XII’s arbitration was in the years leading up to the outbreak of the conflict, using Anglo-French and French-papal diplomatic correspondence. The chapter concludes that Benedict XII’s attempt at preventing the outbreak of the war should not be negatively assessed on the basis of its outcome. Arguably, the pope reacted and engaged with the political circumstances using all the means at his disposal, but was not able to control Edward III, Louis of Bavaria, and Philip VI’s individual agendas. If anything, Benedict XII’s failed attempts at preventing the outbreak of the Anglo-French conf lict therefore evidence the inability of the late-medieval papacy to carry any political weight before the secular rulers rather than his personal miscalculation of the circumstances. Keywords: Pope Benedict XII, Hundred Years’ War, Edward III, king of England, Philip VI, king of France, diplomacy, Louis of Bavaria

The rich historiography on the Hundred Years’ War has not paid much attention to the role of Benedict XII as a political actor in the first five years of the Anglo-French conflict. Mentions of Benedict’s efforts are indeed only brief and limited to his failed attempts at organizing a crusade in 1334–1335, securing Anglo-French collaboration, and establishing a truce between

Bueno, Irene (ed.), Pope Benedict XII (1334–1342). The Guardian of Orthodoxy. Amsterdam University Press, 2018 doi: 10.5117/9789462986770_ch07

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the two parties in the early 1340s after the outbreak of the war.1 On the one hand, French historian Edouard Perroy defined the papal attempts at delaying the outbreak of the war and pacifying the two parties through truces as ‘dogged but ill-fated’,2 while Jonathan Sumption addressed the pope’s attitude in dealing with Philip VI as ‘faultless’, ‘realistic’, ‘austere and independent’, pointing out that ‘of all the Avignon popes [Benedict XII] was the least sympathetic to French interests’.3 On the other hand, Templeman maintained that the circumstances which lead to the outbreak of the Hundred Years’ War had already characterized earlier Anglo-French crises, and that in 1337 the conflict broke out owing to the lack of political standing of Benedict XII, Edward III, and Philip VI. 4 Finally, in her book on fourteenth-century England, May McKisack applauded Benedict XII’s efforts for peace since 1336 and emphasized that, although the pope managed to exercise some influence on Philip VI, ‘his counsels of peace were likely to avail in face of the chivalric ambitions of Edward III’. Yet, as McKisack put it, the papacy lacked the authority to intervene effectively in the Anglo-French conflict owing to ‘misfortune’ rather than ‘fault’.5 Similarly, the historiography on the Avignon papacy has traditionally emphasized the papal allegiance to the French monarchy during the fourteenth century, although, more recently, this interpretation has been substantially challenged.6 When the specialists of the Avignon papacy have engaged with the pontificate of Benedict XII, they have mainly focused on his commitment against heresy and his achievements at reforming religious orders and papal administration, while almost completely overlooking Benedict XII’s engagement with the outbreak of the Hundred Years’ War.7 When they indeed mentioned 1 F. Lot, La France des origines à la Guerre de Cent Ans (Paris, 1942), 264; P. Contamine, La Guerre de Cent Ans (Paris, 1968), 15; A. Curry, The Hundred Years’ War, 1337–1453 (Oxford, 2002), 27; J. Favier, La Guerre de Cent Ans, 1337–1453 (Paris, 1980), 21–2, 76, 90, 100–1. On the historiography on the Hundred Years’ War see also M. Vale, ‘England, France and the Origins of the Hundred Years’ War’, in England and Her Neighbours, 1066–1453: essays in honour of Pierre Chaplais, ed. M. Jones and M. Vale (London, 1989), 199–216. No mention of Benedict XII’s role is found in C. Allmand, The Hundred Years War: England and France at war, c.1300–c.1450 (Cambridge, 1988), 10, which only referred to the mediation of John XXII between England and France in 1327. 2 E. Perroy, The Hundred Years War (London, 1959), 88, 90, 100–2, 106. 3 J. Sumption, Trial by Battle: the Hundred Years War (London 1990), i, 145–6, 152–5, 169–70, 395. 4 G. Templeman, ‘Edward III and the Beginnings of the Hundred Years War’, Transactions of the Royal Historical Society, 2 (1952), 69–88. 5 M. McKisack, The Fourteenth Century, 1307–1399 (Oxford, 1959), 124–5. 6 D. Waley, ‘Opinions of the Avignon Papacy: a historiographical sketch’, in Storiografia e storia: studi in onore di Eugenio Duprè Theseider (Rome, 1974), 175–88. See also Sumption, Trial by Battle, 152. 7 Mollat, Papes d’Avignon, 68–83.

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Benedict XII’s weak and unsuccessful political mediation in the Anglo-French conflict, Renouard, Guillemain, and Favier simply recorded his failed attempts at delaying the outbreak of the war through the organization of a new crusade and at securing truces at different stages of the conflict.8 More recently, Karsten Plöger has maintained that during his pontificate ‘Benedict XII had largely followed a policy of retrenchment’, especially as far as the organization of the new crusade was concerned.9 Finally, Andreas Willershausen has emphasized that from 1338 onwards Benedict XII undertook a new peace-making policy (viae pacis), strategically seizing the initiative with the different parties involved in the Anglo-French conflict through the use of legates.10 Remarkably, the only two monographs on Benedict XII and the outbreak of the Hundred Years’ War date from the early twentieth century. In 1902 French historian Eugène Déprez published a seminal book on the papacy, France, and England, underlining the original contribution of Benedict XII as a mediator within the broader European context. In Déprez’s opinion, while John XXII was only a spectator of the conflict between England and France, Benedict XII asserted with strength, pride, and conviction his role as an arbiter of war and peace – not only in the Anglo-French conflict but also as far as the political situation in the German Empire, Flanders, Spain and Italy, and the organization of a new crusade were concerned.11 Meanwhile, in 1933, American historian Helen Jenkins, unaware of Déprez’s work, focused on Benedict XII’s peace-making efforts between England and France in her doctoral thesis at the University of Pennsylvania. Jenkins mainly dealt with the papal organization of a new crusade, Benedict’s instrumental use of excommunication, interdict and dispensations, and his political involvement on the international scene through the employment of papal envoys and political correspondence. As Jenkins put it, ‘in spite of his labours for peace, Benedict was seldom successful’, although ‘his failures were in a large measure due to the stubbornness of others’.12 8 Y. Renouard, The Avignon Papacy, 1305–1403 (London, 1970), 39–40; Y. Renouard, ‘Les papes et le conflit franco-anglais en Aquitaine de 1259 à 1337’, in Y. Renouard, Études d’histoire médiévale (Paris, 1968), 934; B. Guillemain, I papi di Avignone, 1309–1376 (Cinisello Balsamo, 2003), 70; J. Favier, Les papes d’Avignon (Paris, 2006), 402. 9 K. Plöger, England and the Avignon Popes: the practice of diplomacy in late medieval Europe (Oxford, 2005), 29. 10 A. Willershausen, Die Päpste von Avignon und der Hundert-Jährige Krieg: spätmittelalterliche Diplomatie und Kuriale Verhandlungsnormen (1337–1378) (Bad Langensalza, 2014), 115–24, 399–400. 11 E. Déprez, Les préliminaires de la Guerre de Cent Ans: la papauté, la France et l’Angleterre (1328–1342) (Paris, 1902), 400–5. 12 H. Jenkins, Papal Efforts for Peace under Benedict XII (1334–1342) (Philadelphia, 1933), 81. Another unpublished American PhD dissertation briefly deals with Benedict XII’s peace-making

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Overall, when focusing on Benedict XII’s involvement in the outbreak of the Hundred Years’ War, the historiography has unanimously acknowledged the papal efforts for peace and has mainly seen the failure of papal mediation as an outcome of the complex political situation within early fourteenthcentury Europe, dominated by the individual agendas of Philip VI, Edward III, and Louis of Bavaria. When specifically addressing the causes of the Anglo-French conflict and the role of the papacy between 1334 and 1337, Perroy maintained that the pope’s determination to organize the crusade and the French refusal to come to an agreement with Edward III, if he continued to attack the Scots, led to a general war. In similar fashion, Jonathan Sumption maintained that Benedict XII despised Philip VI for ‘his naivety and want of judgement’.13 Arguably, the historiography has been more concerned with assessing the interaction between Philip VI and Benedict XII rather than focusing on the nature of the relationship between Edward III and the Apostolic See. When they engaged with Anglo-papal relations, historians have in fact focused on the French involvement in the Scottish wars and the crusade rather than looking at the English Crown’s diplomatic exchange with the papal Curia per se. In particular, in the first phase of the Hundred Years’ War, which coincided with Benedict XII’s pontificate, the examination of Edward III’s role as a problematic interlocutor within the diplomatic discourse between the papacy, England, and France deserves further attention. This seems especially important in light of Edward III’s efforts at opening up the conflict to international involvement, through the alliance with the counts of Flanders and the German emperor, Louis of Bavaria, in 1337–1338, on which Déprez and to some extent Jenkins had already focused.14 In this chapter I will, therefore, try to address the nature of Anglo-papal relations engaging with the years that preceded the outbreak of the Hundred Years’ War – namely the period between 1334, when Benedict XII was elected, and the summer of 1338, when Edward III left England for the continent and hostilities broke out between England and France. In doing so, I intend to assess how effective Benedict XII’s arbitration was in the years running up to the outbreak of the Anglo-French conflict. I will further engage with efforts in those years: M.A.C. Hennigan, Peace efforts of the popes during the first part of the Hundred Years’ War: case-study of Innocent VI, PhD diss. (The Pennsylvania State University, 1977), 12-29. 13 Sumption, Trial by Battle, 152–3. Perroy, The Hundred Years War, 94, rejects this assessment and pointed out that the pope was only trying to organize the crusade and to delay the beginning of the war. 14 Jenkins, Papal Efforts, 22.

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Anglo-French and French–papal diplomatic correspondence, when relevant. The study is organized in two sections; first looking at Benedict XII’s diplomatic relations with England before the outbreak of the Hundred Years’ War, and then moving on to his engagement on the international political scene between 1337 and 1338. Following in the footsteps of Eugene Déprez, my main source will be the Chancery records of the English Crown, especially the Roman Rolls, which list the diplomatic correspondence exchanged between England and the papal Curia from the early fourteenth century. As I have argued elsewhere, the historiography has so far overlooked these enrolments as a source of diplomatic history, since they mainly record routine business rather than exclusively focusing on political correspondence.15 Together with the Roman Rolls, I will also use the so-called Treaty Rolls, the Gascon Rolls, and papal letters.16

The Election of Benedict XII and the Preliminaries of the Hundred Years’ War (1334–1337) The constant presence of English envoys at the papal Curia and the surviving Anglo-papal correspondence suggest a more nuanced picture of Anglopapal relations in the years that led to the outbreak of the Anglo-French conflict, and shed new light on Benedict XII’s efforts to manage Edward III’s political expectations. When soon after his consecration on 8 January 1335 15 B. Bombi, ‘The Roman Rolls of Edward II as Source of Administrative and Diplomatic Practice in the Early Fourteenth Century’, Historical Research, 85 (2012), 602–3. The Roman Rolls are preserved at London, The National Archives (TNA), C 70/1–25. See also Déprez, Les préliminaires, v–vi. 16 The Treaty Rolls are preserved at TNA, C 76/1–11 and they have been edited in Treaty Rolls Preserved in the Public Record Office, i: 1234–1325, ed. P. Chaplais (London, 1955); ii: 1337–1339, ed. J. Ferguson (London, 1972). For the papal letters registered in the registers of the apostolic chancery see BXII: France; Calendar of Entries in the Papal Registers Relating to Great Britain and Ireland: Papal Letters, ed. W.H. Bliss and C. Johnson, ii (London 1893–96) – hereafter CPL. The originals preserved in English archives have been calendared in Original Papal Letters in England (1305–1415), ed. P.N.R. Zutshi, Index Actorum Romanorum Pontificum ab Innocentio III ad Martinum V electum, v, Original papal letters in England (Vatican City, 1990). The original papal letters preserved at the Archives Nationales in Paris have been calendared in Les actes pontificaux originaux des Archives Nationales de Paris, ed. B. Barbiche, Index actorum Romanorum pontificum ab Innocentio III ad Martinum V electum, 3 (Vatican City, 1975). A selection of diplomatic documents has been edited in P. Chaplais, English Medieval Diplomatic Practice, 2 vols (London, 1975–82). The Gascon Rolls covering the years 1334–42 (C 61/49–54) have been recently edited and are available online: http://www.gasconrolls.org/en/edition/index.html (accessed 15 April 2017).

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Benedict XII wrote to Edward III, announcing his election to the Apostolic See and asking the king to maintain the freedom and peace of the Church in England, he already stressed his awareness of the complex political situation in the medieval West, remarking that his work was going to take place among so many different changes and conflicts (inter tot diversas et varias seculi fluctuationes et pugnas).17 Indeed, an intense diplomatic exchange between England, France, and the Apostolic See about the French involvement in the Scottish war is already recorded in early 1335. In February 1335 Edward III endorsed the provision to wealthy prebends in England of Guillaume Pierre Godin, cardinal of S. Sabina, and Napoleone Orsini, cardinal of S. Adriano.18 Subsequently, in April the English king welcomed to England the papal envoys (Jean de Flete and Thomas of Bologna) as well as the French envoys (the bishop of Avranches and Pierre de Tierlieu), who met the Scottish representatives in Newcastle to negotiate a two-month truce in Scotland.19 At the same time, the English king sent his representative John Piers to Avignon, to report viva voce before the papal Curia with regard to the affairs concerning the French Crown and the preparation for the crusade.20 Along with the Scottish conflict, between May and June 1335 two further issues were discussed in Avignon: the organization of the crusade, which had been newly prompted by the arrival of the Armenian ambassador Gregory de Signelie at the papal Curia in early 1335, after the Muslims had attacked Cilician Armenia;21 and the exemption from the payment of debts owed to the exchequer on benefices assigned to cardinals in England.22 As Déprez already pointed out, what seems even more important is that in late spring and summer 1335 both England and France focused their diplomatic efforts internationally, looking for possible allies in preparation 17 Foedera, conventions, litterae et cuiuscunque generis acta publica inter reges Anglie et alios quosvis, ed. T. Rymer and R. Sanderson, ii/2 (London 1816–30), 900 (hereafter cited as Rymer). 18 Déprez, Les préliminaires, 104. 19 Rymer, 904–5. On 7 January 1335 Edward III also commended the arrival of French envoys at Wissant: see Rymer, 900; BXII: France, no. 16, 9–10; Déprez, Les préliminaires, 104, 109–10. 20 TNA, C 70/14, m. 4. See also Déprez, Les préliminaires, 112. 21 Déprez, Les préliminaires, 108–9; Y. Renouard, ‘Une expédition de céréales des Pouilles en Arménie par les Bardi pour le compte de Benoît XII’, Mélanges d’archéologie et d’histoire, 53 (1936), 287–329; N. Housley, The Avignon Papacy and the Crusades, 1305–1378 (Oxford, 1986), 30–1. See Benedict XII’s letter addressed to Philip VI of France and Edward III on 14 May 1335: BXII: France, no. 55, 33; Les actes pontificaux originaux, ed. Barbiche, no. 2802, 234. On the Armenian embassy to the papal Curia in 1335 see also M. Carr, ‘Benedict XII and the Crusades’, Chapter 8 in this volume. 22 Rymer, 909.

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for a conflict. In February 1335 the French envoy, Jean d’Harcourt, had arrived in Avignon to discuss with Benedict XII secret affairs, including the reconciliation between the papacy and Louis of Bavaria.23 Meanwhile, between June and July 1335 Edward III sent his envoys to France to negotiate any open dispute concerning the English Crown and his subjects in the Duchy of Aquitaine and the terms of the crusade, probably in light of Benedict XII’s crusading plans and his ratification in June 1335 of John XXII’s taxation of ecclesiastical benefices in order to fund the expedition to the Holy Land.24 Meanwhile, two further missions were dispatched, respectively to Castile and Austria, in order to explore possible marriage alliances with these two countries.25 Here, the Duke of Austria was of particular political importance, especially after his reconciliation with Louis of Bavaria sanctioned by the Treaty of Hagenau in 1330.26 Indeed, in April 1335, after the arrival of the imperial envoys at Avignon, Benedict XII had already approached Albert II of Austria as a possible mediator of the peace with the emperor.27 Finally, in August 1335 Edward III welcomed to England the envoy of Robert of Naples, who was meanwhile negotiating an agreement with Louis of Bavaria.28 Between autumn 1335 and March 1336 the French involvement in the Anglo-Scottish conflict, the crusade, and the search for international allies continued to dominate the diplomatic agendas in France, England, and at the papal Curia. The historiography agrees that from autumn 1335 Benedict XII undertook an active role within the Anglo-French political discourse, endorsing his project of a lasting peace in Scotland and promoting the crusade. This plan was pursued through the dispatch of a papal embassy to England, led by Hugh d’Aimery and Roland of Asti, which aimed at postponing the Anglo-Scottish conflict through the achievement of the short truce between Edward and David Bruce.29 Meanwhile, the king of France sent to England his own embassy, which met the papal envoys and the representatives of Edward III in Newcastle

23 Déprez, Les préliminaires, 106–7; 120. 24 Rymer, 914–5. See Déprez, Les préliminaires, 109–10; BXII: France, no. 66, col. 40–3. See also W.E. Lunt, Financial Relations of the Papacy with England, 1327–1534 (Cambridge MA, 1962), ii, 89. 25 Rymer, 909–10, 915. 26 P. Herde, ‘From Adolf of Nassau to Louis of Bavaria, 1292–1347’, in The New Cambridge Medieval History, ed. M. Jones, 7 vols (Cambridge, 1995–2005), vi, 543. 27 Déprez, Les préliminaires, 106. 28 H.S. Offler, ‘Empire and Papacy: the last struggle’, Transactions of the Royal Historical Society, 6 (1956), 21–47, at 42. 29 Rymer, 926–7; Déprez, Les préliminaires, 117–8. See also Zutshi, Index actorum, v, 173, 86. On the funding used to finance this mission see Lunt, Financial Relations, 622.

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and Berwick in November 1335.30 Although between November 1335 and March 1336 Hugh’s mediation managed to delay the start of the conflict, it was ultimately unsuccessful, and on 11 March 1336 the English parliament finally rejected Hugh’s proposal of confirming Edward Balliol as king of Scotland and David II’s nomination as his heir.31 As Perroy argued, Benedict XII’s envoys to England only managed to postpone the conflict through the achievement of the short truce between Edward and David Bruce.32 The historiography agrees that the failure of Hugh’s mission to England stands behind Benedict XII’s decision to cancel the crusade in March 1336. Arguably, in December 1335 the crusading plan was still on Edward III’s agenda, as evidenced in a letter sent by the English king to the king of Armenia after the latter’s ambassador, Gregory de Signelie, had arrived in England together with the papal envoys.33 Furthermore, on 18 December 1335 Edward III endorsed the English mission of Bernard de Sistre, the papal collector appointed to collect the crusading tenth.34 However, between November 1335 and March 1336, alongside participation in support for the crusade, Edward III carried on pursuing alliances – not only with the Duke of Austria, who dispatched his envoys to arrange the marriage of his daughter Joan to Frederick of Austria,35 but also with the king of Castile.36 The English king was, therefore, preparing for any possible outcome of the Scottish negotiations, keeping his mind open to different scenarios. Despite papal mediation, Philip VI still persisted in his plan to support the Scots. In Sumption’s opinion, when Philip finally disclosed his real intentions to the pope during a private audience at Avignon on 13 March 1336, Benedict XII decided to cancel the crusade.37 Indeed, Benedict XII strongly maintained that peace was a precondition for the realization of the crusade, and gave as justifications for his decisions the failure of the peace negotiations in Scotland and the ongoing conflicts in the German Empire, as well as in northern and southern Italy.38 Historians have debated at length the legacy of Benedict XII’s decision to cancel the crusade and its repercussions on the outbreak of the Hundred 30 Rymer, 927; Déprez, Les préliminaires, 113–4, 118–9. 31 Sumption, Trial by Battle, 153–5. See also Rymer, 928, 930–1, 933. 32 Perroy, The Hundred Years War, 91. 33 Rymer, 927; Déprez, Les préliminaires, 119–20. 34 Rymer, 928. 35 Ibid., 929, 940. 36 Ibid., 932. 37 Déprez, Les préliminaires, 122–3; Sumption, Trial by Battle, 155. 38 Déprez, Les préliminaires, 411–2.

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Years’ War. On the one hand, Déprez argued that Benedict XII had always looked at Philip VI as the prospective leader of the crusade, and his decision to cancel the crusade greatly worried the French king, who quickly began his preparations for an attack against England.39 Accordingly, in Perroy’s opinion, the papal decision ‘infuriated Philip’, who ‘felt that he had been fooled, since he had agreed not to pursue the Scottish affair for the sake of the crusade, which was now denied to him’. When, in the following months, the French king made Edward believe that he was preparing for a general war against England, Benedict XII lost control of the situation by means of ‘endless and futile negotiations, which served only to add to the exasperation of the adversaries’. 40 Ultimately, in Perroy’s opinion, ‘the policy of Benedict XII ended by precipitating the conflict which it aimed at avoiding’. 41 On the other hand, Sumption emphasized that ‘the cancellation of the crusade had much more serious consequences for Edward III than any injury to his pride or dreams of immortality’, since the pope had deprived Edward of his diplomatic bargain, namely the promise to take part in the crusade. 42 It does indeed seem that Edward III did not give up on his crusading plans straight away. In June 1336 he tried to withhold ecclesiastical revenues in England to boost his finances while the collection of the crusading tenth was still ongoing.43 Meanwhile, at Northampton the king’s council decided to dispatch an English embassy to France, which included Richard of Bury, (bishop of Durham), Adam Orleton, (bishop of Winchester), William Trussel, and Richard de Bentworth. The embassy had to address the issue of the crusade, the ongoing disputes in Gascony, and the conflict in Scotland, ultimately arranging a conference between Edward III and Philip VI. 44 At Northampton the English embassy found two other English envoys, Laurence Fastolf and Paul of Monteflore, dispatched to France on their way to Avignon, where in July 1336 they dealt with the Crown debt of 60,000 pounds sterling

39 Ibid., 105–6, 124–5. 40 Perroy, The Hundred Years War, 91. 41 Ibid., 90, 94. 42 Sumption, Trial by Battle, 155–6. In contrast, C. Tyerman, England and the Crusades, 1095–1588 (Chicago, 1998), 250–1, has maintained that, despite his official commitment to recovering the Holy Land, Edward III feared that the crusade would damage his position in France. 43 TNA, C 70/14, m. 3; Déprez, Les préliminaires, 130–1; Jenkins, Papal Efforts, 25. 44 Rymer, 941–2; Déprez, Les préliminaires, 130–1. See also, E. Déprez, Les ambassades Anglaises pendant la Guerre de Cent Ans: catalogue chronologique (1327–1450) (Paris, 1900), 44; R.M. Haines, The Church and Politics in Fourteenth-Century England: the career of Adam Orleton, c.1275–1345 (Cambridge, 1978), 38–9; E.B. Fryde, ‘Parliament and the French War, 1336–40’, in Historical Studies of the English Parliament, ed. E.B. Fryde and E. Miller, 2 vols (Cambridge, 1970), i, 244.

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before the Apostolic Chamber.45 Finally, in July 1336 Edward III announced to Benedict XII and the cardinals the dispatch of his envoy John Preis to the papal Curia, where he had to report viva voce on the Scottish conflict, while Philip VI sent a letter to Edward regarding the peace agreement in Scotland.46 It should be noted that in the first half of 1336 the papal cancellation of the expedition to the Holy Land coincided with the reopening of negotiations on the English territories in Gascony which were under French occupation. On 11 April 1336 Edward III in fact wrote to Philip VI on the restitution of Blanquefort and Veyrines, which the two parties had already agreed on and the French parliament had to ratify. Edward III therefore welcomed to England the mission of the French envoys– Jean de Près, Jean de Chatel, and Guillaume de Savigny – while, as pointed out above, he sent his envoys to France in June 1336. 47 However, in August 1336 Philip VI was said to be aiding the Scots with ships and men. As Sumption put it, the French promise of sending a fleet to Scotland only resulted in French raids against southern England and the Channel Islands during autumn 1336 owing to the lack of finances and the difficulties in gathering enough ships for the enterprise.48 As a result of this latest development, Anglo-French negotiations collapsed and the Gascon affair took centre stage. 49 Although in September 1336 a new French embassy was dispatched to Scotland and, in October 1336, the English envoys Henry of Canterbury and Roger de Stanford were sent to the French Curia to join John Piers and Thomas Sampson in order to deal with the Gascon affairs, Edward III had already begun his preparations for war since August.50 The English king had in fact prohibited his Gascon subjects in arms from leaving the Duchy of Aquitaine and started preparing for a naval conflict in the Channel, ordering the fleet in Bayonne to be ready for war.51 Finally, between the end of October and early November 1336 Edward III also sought international naval support. He wrote to Nicolino Fieschi, the Genoese representative of the English Crown, to the king of Norway, and to the count of Holland and Gelderland –, planning to assemble his fleets in the River Orwell (Suffolk) and in Portsmouth by early December 1336.52 45 Rymer, 942. 46 TNA, C 70/14, m. 5–6. 47 Rymer, 936, 940, 943; Déprez, Les préliminaires, 129–30. 48 Sumption, Trial by Battle, 158–70; Rymer, 944–5. 49 Rymer, 944. 50 Ibid., 945–6. 51 Ibid., 944–6; 963; 965. See also Déprez, Les préliminaires, 133–4. 52 Rymer, 948–50.

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In November–December 1336 Benedict XII tried to arbitrate in the AngloFrench conflict, dispatching his envoy Philippe de Chambarlhac, archdeacon of Tournai, first to Philip VI and then to Edward III. Benedict XII further met at Sorgues the English envoys (Laurence Fastolf and Paul of Monteflore) and the French ones (Guy Chrevier and Pierre de Verberie), asking that the two parties work towards peace by means of an amicable treaty (ad pacem huiusmodi prosequendam per viam tractatus amicabilis).53 At the same time, the pope asked Edward III to drive away from his court Robert of Artois, called a rebel and capital enemy (rebellem et inimicum capitalem), who was guilty of having conspired against the French king.54 Likewise, in May 1336 Benedict had demanded that Philip VI did not ally with Louis of Bavaria until the latter had been reconciled with the Apostolic See.55 On 26 December 1336 Philip VI also addressed the presence of Robert of Artois at the English court in a letter sent to Edward III, wherein the French king called Robert ‘our mortal enemy’ (notre anemi mortel) and asked that he be exiled from England.56 Finally, on 2 December 1336 the dispatch to the papal Curia of Edward III’s embassy – including Paul of Monteflore, Richard de Bynteworth, and John de Ragenhill – was announced to Benedict XII and some of the cardinals, and negotiations on securing the Channel crossing between England and France began later that year.57 Most interestingly, in the early part of 1337, together with discussion on the military activity in the Channel and the French–Scottish alliance, the English envoys Laurence Fastolf and Paul of Monteflore also dealt with a number of petitions concerning provisions to benefices in England, which King Edward III and Queen Philippa had put forward on behalf of their clerks, evidencing, as I argued elsewhere, the complexity of the diplomatic and political discourse in the early part of the fourteenth century.58 The historiography has once more divided on Benedict XII’s involvement in avoiding the outbreak of the Anglo-French conflict between the end of 1336 and the first few months of 1337. On the one hand, Déprez maintained that on this occasion the pope acted with great political insight, understanding 53 Riezler, Vatikanische Akten, no. 1832, 624; BXII: France, no. 238, cols 153–4; no. 241, cols 158–9; Déprez, Les préliminaires, 135. 54 BXII: France, no. 242, cols 159–60. See also Jenkins, Papal Efforts, 26; Favier, La Guerre de Cent Ans, 42–7. 55 BXII: France, 239, cols 154–6; Riezler, Vatikanische Akten, no. 1806, 616–7. 56 Déprez, Les préliminaires, 414–5. 57 TNA, C 70/14, m. 1; Rymer, 953, 956. See also Déprez, Les préliminaires, 138–9. 58 B. Bombi, Il registro di Andrea Sapiti, procuratore alla curia avignonese (Rome, 2007), ‘Parte Seconda’, no. LXXVIII, § 1–17, 337–48; no. LXXX, 351–4. See also Bombi, ‘The Roman Rolls’, 602–3.

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that Edward III was looking for allies against France and dreading an AngloGerman alliance.59 On the other hand, Perroy emphasized that the pope only managed to persuade Philip to delay the French occupation of Guyenne.60 Finally, Sumption stated that Benedict XII intervened in the Robert of Artois affair at Philip VI’s request and, by doing so, prompted Edward III’s military intervention.61 Arguably, while negotiations were ongoing in Avignon and in England, where French and Scottish envoys arrived in January 1337, Edward III was already prepared for war.62 The king prohibited his subjects from making unauthorized cross-Channel passages and made provision for the construction of ships and anchors, appointing William of Montague, Robert Ufford, and John de Ros as admirals of his fleets, and securing the support of the Genoese Uso di Mare family, two of whose members, Oberto and Nicholas, were respectively nominated vice-admiral and constable of Bordeaux.63 Edward III also strengthened his strongholds in Guyenne and Aquitaine, securing the collaboration of Bartholomew Burghersh, absolved from his vow to go on pilgrimage to the Holy Land on 23 August 1337, and instructing the seneschal of Gascony, Oliver of Ingham, to fortify his garrisons in the duchy.64 Furthermore, as Déprez has pointed out, in the first few months of 1337 Edward III tried to secure international alliances in Flanders, Hainault, and Germany, dispatching his envoys and holding meetings at Valenciennes in May 1337.65 Finally, he once more tried to secure the support of the king of Castile.66 However, while Edward III managed to remain on good terms with the papal Curia – where the papal nuncio and collector in England, Bernard Sistre, was dispatched on 10 March 1337 – Philip VI’s diplomatic relations with Benedict XII deteriorated after the cancellation of the crusade and the papal refusal to concede to the French king the crusading tenths collected 59 Déprez, Les préliminaires, 138. 60 Perroy, The Hundred Years War, 92. 61 Sumption, Trial by Battle, 172–80. 62 Rymer, 958. 63 Ibid., 956–8. See also Déprez, Les préliminaires, 139–40. 64 Rymer, 954; TNA, C 61/49, m. 39v. On Bartholomew Burghersh’s dispensation see Rymer, 962; Bombi, Il registro, Parte Seconda, no. LXXXII, 355–7; TNA, C 70/ m. 3. Most interestingly, Edward III appointed Bartholomew Burghersh admiral on 11 August 1337 before the papal dispensation was approved (Rymer, 988). 65 Rymer, 966–7; Treaty Rolls, no. 9, 9–10; no. 27, 22–3; Chronographia regum Francorum, ed. H. Moranville, 3 vols (Paris, 1891–1897), i, 32–4; Déprez, Les préliminaires, 142–4, 152–3; Sumption, Trial by Battle, 193–5. 66 Rymer, 961, 977.

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in France.67 In January 1337 Philip’s discontent with what he perceived to be Benedict XII’s favourable policy towards Edward III had already been expressed at the papal Curia by Philippe de Chambarlhac, also entrusted with the negotiations concerning the peace with Louis of Bavaria.68 In two letters dated 28 January and 6 February 1337 Benedict XII rejected any accusation of impartiality in the Anglo-French conflict and maintained his efforts to re-establish peace (concordia per nos tractabantur).69 Accordingly, on 4 April 1337 Benedict XII reprimanded Philip VI after the king of France deliberately delayed the arrival of his representatives at the papal Curia.70 In this letter, with remarkable political acumen, Benedict XII maintained that the delay at settling a peace with the German Empire could have prompted a very dangerous Anglo-German alliance and rejected Philip’s requests that the crusading tenths collected in France could be used to fund the war against England, ultimately trying to settle a truce between England and France through the dispatch of peace envoys.71 Notoriously, Benedict XII’s call for peace went unheard, while Edward’s preparations for war had not been in vain. On 16 March 1337 the French Great Council had in fact decided to take the Duchy of Aquitaine into the king’s hands, since Edward III, Philip’s vassal, had sheltered the king’s enemy, Robert of Artois, in breach of his feudal obligations. However, while dispatching a diplomatic mission – led by Henry Burghersh (bishop of Lincoln), William of Montague, and William of Clynton –, in order to negotiate a peace agreement with Philip VI on 18–19 April 1337, Edward III did not withdraw his support for Robert of Artois, granting him some properties and a pension in England.72 The war between England and France was, therefore, inevitable and it was ultimately proclaimed throughout the kingdom of France on 30 April 1337, only a few days after the French ambassadors had arrived at Avignon to negotiate the peace between the papacy and Louis of Bavaria.73 Finally, on 24 May 1337 Philip VI, by then

67 TNA, C 70/15, m. 3; Rymer, 959; Déprez, Les préliminaires, 142–4. 68 Déprez, Les préliminaires, 144–5; BXII: France, no. 263, col. 171; Riezler, Vatikanische Akten, no. 1864, 664; no.1867, 664–5. See also Jenkins, Papal Efforts, 28–9. 69 BXII: France, no. 264, col. 172; no. 270, col. 174. On Benedict XII claiming impartiality see Jenkins, Papal Efforts, 18. 70 BXII: France, no. 277, col. 176; no. 280, cols 179–82. 71 Ibid., no. 280, cols 179–82. See also Déprez, Les préliminaires, 145–7. 72 Rymer, 966–9. 73 BXII: France, no. 284, cols 183–4; Sumption, Trial by Battle, 184.

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aware of Edward’s attempts at establishing international alliances in Flanders and Hainault against France, confiscated the Duchy of Guyenne.74

Benedict XII’s Peace-Making Efforts between Summer 1337 and Summer 1338 As Anne Curry has pointed out, ‘it is not easy to define the first action of the Hundred Years’ War’ since ‘there was no “declaration of war” in the modern sense’.75 A similar view had already been taken by earlier historiography. In particular, Déprez emphasized the importance of Edward III’s crossing to the continent in the summer of 1338 as a turning point in the Anglo-French hostilities, while Jenkins argued that Benedict XII’s peace-making efforts changed in their nature from summer 1338, when the actual warfare between England and France began.76 In similar fashion, Perroy stated that the year 1337–1338 was ‘a vigil of arms’, while Sumption maintained that between 1337 and summer 1338 Edward III tried to consolidate his international alliances in order to prepare for the opening of hostilities.77 In the early summer of 1337 Benedict XII and his consistory strongly reacted to the unavoidable conflict between England and France. On 23 June 1337 the pope dispatched to France and England his envoys, Pedro Gomez de Barroso, cardinal of S. Prassede, and Bertrand of Montfavès, cardinal of S. Maria in Aquiro.78 In the long arenga of his letter, announcing the arrival of the two papal nuncios, Benedict built on the theological topos of Christ as Rex Pacificus and maintained that the pope held the duty of preserving peace since he was appointed as ‘vicar on earth of the same King of Peace’ (eiusdem Regis Pacifici in terris vicarius constitutus). Benedict XII further stated that his envoys had been appointed to restore peace between England and France (ad pacem et concordiam), given that this duty especially belonged to the Apostolic See owing to its plenitude of power.79 In addition to the commission for their peace-making mission, the two cardinals were recommended before Philip VI and Edward III as

74 Chronographia regum Francorum, ii, 26–7. See also Déprez, Les préliminaires, 154. 75 Curry, The Hundred Years’ War, 29. 76 Déprez, Les préliminaires, 237–84; Jenkins, Papal Efforts, 41. 77 Perroy, The Hundred Years War, 100; Sumption, Trial by Battle, 185–233. 78 See also Déprez, Les préliminaires, 148. 79 BXII: France, no. 305, cols 196 and 198; also col. 197. On peace as special duty of the Apostolic See owing to its plenitude of power, see Willershausen, Die Päpste, 25–7.

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well as before the nobility and the clergy of France.80 The pope especially addressed his recommendation to the Archbishops William of Sens and Peter of Rouen, referring to his envoys as ‘angels of peace’ (pacis angeli). He further demanded that the two French prelates acted as intermediaries and facilitated the mission of the papal nuncios to Philip VI.81 On the same date the two papal envoys further received over seventeen mandates, where Benedict XII specified their broad delegated faculties, which, along with the main aim of establishing a truce between England and France, included the powers of appointing sub-delegates, issuing or absolving from sentences of excommunication and interdict, commuting vows, dispensing marriages within the prohibited degrees, appointing apostolic notaries, punishing those producing forged apostolic letters, and absolving those who had used violence against the clergy.82 Finally, in another letter, dated 23 June 1337, Benedict XII granted the two cardinals the power of arbitrating disputes on vacant ecclesiastical provisions in France, whose collation was a prerogative of the Apostolic See and which Philip VI had usurped.83 As Guillemain put it, the Avignon popes seem to have chosen their envoys for particularly important diplomatic missions on the basis of their individual ability as well as for their personal allegiance to the pope, their connections, and background.84 Undoubtedly, the choice of two cardinals as diplomatic papal envoys after the beginning of the Hundred Years’ War shows the political importance of their mission, while the broad faculties delegated to the cardinals fit in nicely with Guillemain’s argument. Indeed, the prosopography of Benedict XII’s diplomatic envoys before spring 1337 demonstrates that the pope had previously employed representatives of a lower status. Whereas Bertrand of Montfavès was a Frenchman from the region of Quercy, like Pope John XXII who had promoted him to the rank of cardinal, the choice of Pedro Gomez de Barroso, who was of Castilian 80 BXII: France, no. 306, col. 199; nos 310–1, col. 200; no. 313, col. 201; no. 317, col. 202; no. 336, cols 206–8. 81 BXII: France, no. 335, cols 205–6; no. 342, col. 210. The letters addressed to Philip VI and Edward III were delivered by another papal envoy, Peter Bourguignon, treasurer of Laon and papal chaplain. See also Jenkins, Papal Efforts, 29. On legates as ‘angels of peace’ see B. Barbiche, ‘Les “diplomates” pontificaux du Moyen Âge tardif à la première modernité: office et charge pastorale’, in O. Poncet and A. Jamme, Offices et papauté (XIV e–XVIe siècle). Charges, hommes, destins (Rome, 2005), § 33: http://books.openedition.org/efr/1200 (accessed on 9 March 2017). 82 BXII: France, nos 307–9, cols 199–200; no. 314, col. 201; no. 316, col. 202; nos 318–34, cols 202–5. 83 Ibid., no. 304, col. 192–6. 84 Guillemain, Cour pontificale, 229–30; H. Gilles, ‘Juristes languadociens au service de la papauté’, in La papauté d’Avignon et le Languedoc, 1316–1342 (Toulouse, 1991), 115–6.

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origin, as diplomatic envoy to France seems quite remarkable and shows Benedict XII’s special confidence in this individual. Most interestingly, in 1344 Pope Clement VI also acknowledged Pedro de Barroso’s diplomatic expertise in the Anglo-French conflict, when Pedro was among a restricted group of cardinals who took part at the Anglo-French peace conference in Avignon.85 Meanwhile, the diplomatic efforts at the papal Curia focused on a possible Anglo-German alliance. By July 1337 Philip VI’s envoys, Stephen Aubert and Peter André (canons of Paris), had already reached the papal Curia in Avignon, asking the pope for clarifications on a possible Anglo-German alliance, when the English representative, Paul of Monteflore, was already present there.86 In the first instance, the pope had to reassure the French king that the English bishop intercepted in Burgundy or Lotharingia with some papal letters had been to the papal Curia to seek arbitration concerning his episcopal see rather than to promote Edward III’s hidden agenda.87 However, as Déprez argued, the French suspicions about Edward III’s secret plans were not groundless, especially as far as a possible AngloGerman alliance was concerned. Indeed, in July Edward III’s embassy led by Henry Burghersh travelled to Frankfurt to negotiate the terms of an alliance with the emperor.88 Therefore, once the pope was made aware of Edward’s intentions through the English representative at the papal Curia, Paul of Monteflore, Benedict XII had to seize the initiative quickly. On 20 July he addressed a secret letter to Edward III in an attempt to halt a possible Anglo-German alliance.89 In his letter Benedict, a former inquisitor, dwelled on Louis of Bavaria’s condemnation for heresy by the inquisition (per […] inquisitores heretice pravitatis auctoritate apostolica condempnatos), and he reminded the English king of Louis’s support for the antipope Peter of Corbara. Therefore, Benedict XII rejected the requests of Paul of Monteflore, who had asked Benedict XII to approve the Anglo-German alliance (licentia confederandi), given that a peace between the papacy and Louis had not been settled.90 However, despite his efforts, Benedict XII failed to prevent the Anglo-German alliance, which was finally agreed on 26 August 1337. As Sumption pointed out, the English financial offers to Louis of Bavaria were too good to be ignored by the emperor. Yet, Louis, at first hesitant since he was aware that the alliance with Edward III would compromise 85 Guillemain, Cour pontificale, 234. See also, Jenkins, Papal Efforts, 31–2. 86 BXII: France, no. 343, col. 210. See also Déprez, Les ambassades, 14. 87 BXII: France, no. 341, cols 209–10; Riezler, Vatikanische Akten, no. 1885, 673–4. 88 Sumption, Trial by Battle, 197–8. 89 Déprez, Les préliminaires, 150. 90 Ibid., 415–7.

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his reconciliation with the pope, gave in to the English offer of £45,000 in return for the dispatch of 2000 armed men.91 In July 1337 the alliance with the Empire was by no means the only move of Edward III on the international scene, and has to be understood as part of a broader coalition gathering around the English Crown. Following the meeting in Valenciennes in May 1337, the English envoys Henry Burghersh, William of Montague, and William of Clynton had in fact moved on to Germany, negotiating alliances in Hainault and Brabant, as well as with the counts of Berg and Zeeland, the duke of Guelders, the counts of Juliers, Loos, and Le Marck, the Lord of Falkenburg, Count Palatine, and the Margrave of Brandenburg.92 Such diplomatic activity ultimately allowed Edward to secure military support for his cause in return for money, trading agreements, and land – although, as Sumption put it, the ultimate cost of this strategy amounted to over £160,000 on top of the ordinary expenses for war.93 The alliance with Louis of Bavaria was therefore part of a broader strategy, which was ratified at Stamford on 26 August along with the treaties of alliance of the pro-English coalition.94 Furthermore, while securing international military support, Edward III spent the summer of 1337 organizing his men and fleets in the Duchy of Aquitaine and England in order to respond to the French raids against the Channel Islands and Portsmouth.95 Finally, on 21 August 1337 he levied an extraordinary taxation on the English clergy to fund the war with France.96 Nevertheless, as Jenkins put it, at the end of August 1337 ‘in spite of these hostile manifestations of both kings, war remained undeclared, and fighting was held back by mutual agreement or rather by mutual self-interest’.97 Indeed, on 28 August 1337 Edward’s financial needs prompted a new attempt at negotiating a peace with France. He requested that Philip VI return the land unlawfully taken in Guyenne (‘qu’il luy rendist les terres quells il luy detient, volentriment contre reson, en la duchee de Guyene’).98 Accordingly, on 2 September the English king dispatched to the continent his envoys 91 Treaty Rolls, 1–2; Déprez, Les préliminaires, 151–2; Sumption, Trial by Battle, 197–8. 92 Treaty Rolls, 2–10, 12–3, 16–31. See also Déprez, Les préliminaires, 152–3; Perroy, The Hundred Years War, 95–6; Favier, La Guerre de Cent Ans, 75–9. 93 Sumption, Trial by Battle, 198–200. 94 Copies of the alliance agreements are enrolled in TNA, C 76/11, m. 4–11, edited in Treaty Rolls, see above n. 92. See Sumption, Trial by Battle, 199. 95 Rymer, 974–9, 981, 983–9. See also Déprez, Les préliminaires, 155–6. 96 Rymer, 990; Déprez, Les préliminaires, 159. 97 Jenkins, Papal Efforts, 33. See also Sumption, Trial by Battle, 211–4. 98 Rymer, 994–5: ‘That he restores the lands which he occupies, deliberately without cause, in the Duchy of Guyenne’.

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(again Burghersh, Montague, and Clynton), who received full faculties to negotiate a peace with Philip VI on 3 October.99 However, in the words of Roy Martin Haines, the English diplomatic mission ‘was nothing more than a window-dressing’, since the English envoys really aimed at preparing the ground for Edward III’s landing on the continent, strengthening the alliance with the Count of Flanders and the Duke of Austria.100 Meanwhile, at the end of September 1337, Benedict XII engaged in a final diplomatic effort with Philip VI which, in Déprez’s words, temporarily managed to avoid the beginning of the Anglo-French hostilities.101 Indeed, the papal envoys, Pedro Gomez de Barroso and Bertrand of Montfavès, secured Philip VI’s promise to revoke the confiscation of Gascony on 3 or 4 October 1337. In a first letter addressed to his legates on 29 September 1337, Benedict XII had commended Philip’s intention ‘to enter the way of peace’ (velle viam pacis ingredi),102 while in a second letter to Philip VI, dated 3 October 1337, the pope reassured the French king on his attempts at reconciliation with the German emperor, especially given the recent Anglo-German alliance.103 Despite Benedict XII’s efforts for peace, on 7 October 1337 the Anglo-French conflict began when Edward III repudiated the homage taken before Philip VI in 1329 and claimed his succession rights to the French throne by virtue of his mother’s inheritance (ut hereditatem nostram legitime agnoverimus), appointing John, Duke of Brabant and Lotharingia, as his lieutenant on the continent.104 As Déprez put it, ‘la guerre était declarée’.105 Edward III immediately informed the papal envoys (Pedro Gomez de Barroso and Bertrand of Montfavès) of his move, announcing the mission of his representatives Henry Burghersh, William de Bohun, and Robert Ufford, who would have reported vive vocis oraculo on the king’s latest claims.106 At the same time Edward III presented his envoys before two papal chaplains and members of the papal household, Guido of San Germano and Niccolò Capocci, as well as before the papal representative already present in England, Peter Bourgnignon.107 99 Treaty Rolls, 31–2, 33–7. 100 Ibid., 38–43; R.M. Haines, Archbishop John Stratford: political revolutionary and champion of the liberties of the English Church, c.1275/80–1348 (Toronto, 1986), 252. 101 Déprez, Les préliminaires, 165–7. 102 BXII: France, no. 368, cols 226–7. 103 Ibid., no. 369, cols 227–9. 104 Treaty Rolls, 40–1. 105 Déprez, Les préliminaires, 173. 106 TNA, C 70/15, m. 2; Rymer, 1002. 107 TNA, C 70/15, m. 2. See above n. 80.

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Once more, Benedict XII promptly tried to avoid the beginning of the hostilities, making sure that Pedro Gomez de Barroso and Bertrand of Montfavès reached England before Edward III crossed to the continent. As the pope clearly pointed out to his envoys in a letter dated 13 October 1337, once the Anglo-French conflict began, it would be very difficult to agree a peace treaty among the parties (sic tractatus pacis huiusmodi difficilior redderetur). In his letter, which stands out for its acute political insight, Benedict XII used the metaphor of fire, which is difficult to control in a gusting wind (scintilla ignis extinguitur quam dum est vento flante in flammam magnam et consumptivam accensa).108 A few days later, in mid-October, Pedro Gomez de Barroso and Bertrand of Montfavès were granted safe conducts to cross the Channel, and Edward III welcomed their arrival.109 Furthermore, on 17 October the English king wrote to Benedict XII, acknowledging the mission to England of Peter Bourguignon, who had worked, since the summer of 1337, to prepare the ground for the arrival in England of the two cardinals, to settle an agreement with Philip VI, and to resolve the questions raised by the Anglo-German alliance. Edward III maintained that, despite his numerous attempts to reach a peace with France and obtain restitution of his land in Aquitaine – which, in his words, Philip VI retained contra Deum et iustitiam – the French king had carried on supporting the Scottish rebels and attacking the English coasts in Aquitaine and the English mercantile fleets in the Channel.110 Edward therefore argued that extreme necessity urged his lawful resistance (ita quod extrema necessitas nos ad resistentiam licitam impellebat). He was, however, willing to welcome the papal envoys to England in order to agree on a reasonable peace (rationabilem viam pacis). Finally, Edward reassured the pope that he had sent his representatives to Louis of Bavaria in an attempt to persuade him to reconcile with the Apostolic See.111 By the end of October Benedict XII considered it an absolute priority that Pedro Gomez de Barroso and Bertrand of Montfavès arrive in England before Edward III’s departure for the continent. As the pope clearly pointed out in a letter dated 31 October, the two envoys, at the time waiting for papal instructions in Amiens, should have set out for England immediately and should have relied on the archbishops of Sens and Rouen as mediators before Philip VI.112 Moreover, on 6 November Benedict XII took on a proactive role 108 BXII: France, no. 370, col. 230. See also Déprez, Les préliminaires, 170–1. 109 TNA, C 70/15, m. 2; Rymer, 1002–4. 110 TNA, C 70/15, m. 2; Rymer, 1004. 111 TNA, C 70/15, m. 2; Rymer, 1004. See also Déprez, Les préliminaires, 171–4. 112 BXII: France, no. 372, cols 231–2.

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in the Anglo-French peace negotiations, once he was made aware of the anti-French international coalition gathered around Edward III at Stamford on 26 August. The pope sent Philip VI a detailed report regarding the AngloGerman agreement,113 and wrote a new letter to Edward III, asking him to break off the alliance with Louis of Bavaria and to consider the possibility of a long-lasting peace with France (per viam tractatus amicabilis).114 Notably, Benedict XII tried to prevent the beginning of the war, simultaneously moving on two fronts. On the one hand, taking advantage of the safe conduct to England granted to Pedro Gomez de Barroso and Bertrand of Montfavès on 29 November 1337,115 the pope clearly outlined the advantages of peace (pacis, quietis ac securitatis commode varia) before Edward III, who was in a stronger position thanks to his alliance with the German princes. On the other hand, Benedict XII firmly stressed the dangers of war before Philip VI, making clear that papal intervention would not be sufficient to stop the international anti-French coalition. Most interestingly, Benedict XII intentionally omitted any mention of Edward III’s claim to the French throne in his correspondence with the English king, while he did encourage Philip VI to ignore the English provocation for the time being.116 As Déprez has argued, the pope further attempted to weaken the anti-French party, securing the defection of the count of Juliers and his brother, the archbishop of Cologne, whose envoys had arrived at Avignon to negotiate with the pope at the end of October, and he acknowledged the arrival of the French envoys at the papal Curia in late November 1337.117 At the end of 1337 Benedict XII’s efforts for peace therefore achieved once more temporary success and managed to delay the English invasion of France until March 1338. When on 20 December 1337 Benedict XII’s envoys, Pedro Gomez de Barroso and Bertrand of Montfavès, finally crossed the Channel, the pope reassured them of his unlimited support for their mission. The arrival of the papal envoys was welcomed by Edward III, who summoned his parliament in early February 1338 to deliberate on further action against France.118 However, as Déprez put it, while waiting for parliament to deliberate, Edward III carried on with secret plans to secure the support of his subjects in Guyenne and to reinforce his international alliances 113 Ibid., no. 374, cols 232–6. 114 Ibid., no. 375, cols 236–7. See also Déprez, Les préliminaires, 175–7. 115 BXII: France, no. 376, col. 237; Rymer, 1006. 116 BXII: France, no. 374, col. 235. 117 Ibid., no. 382, col. 243; no. 384, col. 244. See also Déprez, Les préliminaires, 177. 118 BXII: France, no. 389, cols 246–7; Rymer, 1007. See also Déprez, Les préliminaires, 180–1.

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with the king of Sicily, the king of Castile, and the Genoese.119 Meanwhile, evidence shows the frantic attempts of Benedict XII to keep tight control over the diplomatic negotiations in England and France. On 10 January 1338 the cardinals sent their envoys back to the continent with letters to update the pope on the state of the negotiations in England (cum litteris eorundem cardinalium aut ipsorum alterius), while a few days later the pope acknowledged the arrival of a new French diplomatic mission at the papal Curia.120 As Haines has pointed out, the cardinals probably used the time at their disposal in England trying to persuade John Stratford, archbishop of Canterbury, and other prelates who had been asked to escort them to London that they should sway Edward III in favour of a truce.121 When the English parliament finally met at Westminster between 3 and 14 February 1338, Edward III firmly set out his terms of reconciliation with France. It was requested that the lands of Guyenne under French occupation should be returned to English control, that Philip VI withdrew his support from the Scots, and that he promised to go on crusade.122 Finally, on 24 February, while waiting for Philip VI’s response to the English requests, Edward III agreed to delay his crossing to the continent until 24 June, giving the cardinals some time to negotiate a peace (ad tractandum de treguis, et rationabili via pacis). However, despite this further delay, Edward manifestly considered the conflict with France as already underway (cum inter nos et consanguineum nostrorum Francie dira guerrarum commocio sit exorta).123 He therefore immediately began preparations for his Channel crossing, appointing Bartholomew Burghersh and Walter de Mauny as admirals of his fleets, who were summoned to Orwell in late June together with Edward, Duke of Cornwall.124 Furthermore, he made arrangements for the crossing of his troops from Portsmouth, and once more secured the support of his subjects in Gascony and England for the war.125 In particular, Edward III seems to have faced a clear trepidation of his subjects at the start of the hostilities and had to prompt Archbishop Stratford and other prelates of 119 Rymer, 1010–2; Déprez, Les préliminaires, 181–2. 120 Rymer, 1012; BXII: France, no. 399, col. 257; no. 407, col. 259. 121 Haines, Archbishop John Stratford, 252–3. 122 Chronicon Galfridi le Baker de Swynebroke, ed. E.M. Thompson (Oxford, 1889), 60–1. See also The Parliament Rolls of Medieval England, 1275–1507, ed. C. Given-Wilson, P. Brand, A. Curry, R.E. Horrox, G. Martin, W.M. Ormrod, and J.R.S. Phillips (Leicester, 2005): http://www.sd-editions. com/PROME/home.html (accessed 25 April 2017); Fryde, ‘Parliament’, 245–6. 123 Treaty Rolls, 44–6. 124 Rymer, 1015–6. 125 Treaty Rolls, 62–83. See also Déprez, Les préliminaires, 185–91.

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the kingdom to confront local opposition and promote the righteousness of the war among their faithful.126 Meanwhile, in a very last attempt at peace, Benedict XII prompted Pedro Gomez de Barroso and Bertrand of Montfavès to move swiftly to France, where the cardinals had already carried out their negotiations with Philip VI in late March, while the French envoys reached Avignon at the end of the month.127 Arguably, Philip VI took advantage of the situation and exploited Benedict XII’s positive inclination towards him. He indeed obtained the concession of the income from ecclesiastical taxation in France for two years in order to fund the defence against the threatened invasion by Louis of Bavaria, whom the pope once more defined as a heretic and schismatic.128 However, while negotiations were ongoing in Avignon and at the French curia, Philip VI ordered an attack on the southern English coast, which successfully managed to raid Portsmouth and Jersey between 24 and 26 March 1338.129 Although the war had already begun and Edward III asked his off icials in Gascony to renew his hereditary claims to the French throne on 1 May 1338, the papal envoys returned to England in a f inal attempt at preventing Edward’s imminent crossing to the continent.130 Nevertheless, despite Benedict XII’s wishful thinking, there was no space for any further mediation. On 6 May 1338 the Anglo-French negotiations finally collapsed and Edward III revoked the truce with France, accusing Philip VI of its violation, and finalized his preparations for war.131 Benedict XII, however, did not renounce his peace-making efforts. In Déprez’s words, the pope was completely deceived by Edward’s indecisive attitude and duplicity.132 On 4 June 1338 he addressed a letter to the French king, where he expressed some hopes for peace, acknowledging the imminent arrival of Edward’s ambassadors in France.133 Undoubtedly, Edward III’s appointment of his representatives dispatched to a peace conference with Philip VI in Arras on 21 June ought to have boosted Benedict XII’s hopes.134 The pope was arguably unaware of the 126 Rymer, 1025–6. See also Sumption, Trial by Battle, 220–1. 127 BXII: France, no. 427, cols 269–70; no. 443, col. 273. 128 Ibid., nos 420–1, col. 264–8; no. 424, col. 269. 129 Rymer, 1027–8; Sumption, Trial by Battle, 226–7. 130 Rymer, 1033. 131 Treaty Rolls, 91–6, 101–17. 132 Déprez, Les préliminaires, 185. 133 BXII: France, no. 445, cols 279–80. 134 Treaty Rolls, 145–8.

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secret arrangements for war made in England and Germany on 27 June, when Edward III wrote to the emperor announcing his imminent Channel crossing and asked for his military support by virtue of the Anglo-German alliance.135 Indeed, no fewer than three days earlier, on 23 June, the pope had reassured Philip VI about the ongoing negotiations concerning the papal reconciliation with Louis of Bavaria, which would have safeguarded the kingdom of France from a German invasion.136 Finally, after having appointed Edward, Duke of Cornwall, as his regent on 11 July, Edward III set off for Flanders on 16 July.137 Once he arrived there, Edward III lost no time, and on 22 July in Antwerp he revoked the faculties of his representatives, Archbishop Stratford and Richard of Bury, bishop of Durham, who had been appointed to negotiate the peace agreement with France at Amiens. In Déprez’s words, ‘Edouard lançait une proclamation qui fut regardée comme une déclaration de guerre.’138

Conclusions As Jenkins pointed out, between summer 1338 and his death in spring 1342, Benedict XII did not cease to intervene in the Anglo-French conflict, and focused his efforts in two directions: in the first instance, between July 1338 and the end of 1339, having failed to prevent it, the pope unsuccessfully attempted to control the Anglo-French conflict, while from 1340 he tried to stop it. Indeed, from the summer of 1338, the pope desperately tried to break up the Anglo-German alliance through his envoys, Pedro Gomez de Barroso and Bertrand of Montfavès, renewing the accusations of heresy against Louis of Bavaria, and shifted his support to France, which was threatened by a possible German invasion.139 Already on 23 and 24 July 1338, Benedict XII wrote to his diplomatic envoys asking them to persevere and insist in any possible way in order to restore peace between England and France, crossing over to France as quickly as possible following the English diplomatic mission across the Channel.140 Meanwhile, the pope also sent 135 Rymer, 1046. See also Déprez, Les préliminaires, 192–3. 136 BXII: France, no. 457, cols 285–9. 137 Rymer, 1049–50; Déprez, Les préliminaires, 193–4. 138 Déprez, Les préliminaires, 194. 139 Jenkins, Papal Efforts, 41. See also Lunt, Financial Relations, 631-636. 140 BXII: France, no. 469, col. 296; no. 472, col. 298. In another letter dated 24 July 1338 Benedict XII renewed his support for Bertrand of Montfavès concerning his actions in the affair regarding Robert of Artois, ibid., no. 473, cols 298–9; Déprez, Les préliminaires, 200.

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letters to Edward III and Philip VI, whom he addressed as ‘faithful, devoted and closest sons’ ( filii fideles, devoti et propinqui) in light of their role as supporters of the Christian faith as well as their consanguinity. Underlining the devastation that war would have inflicted upon souls, people and places (innumerabilium animarum excidia, excidia corporum, vastitates rerum et alia horrenda quamplurima), Benedict therefore encouraged both parties to dispatch their diplomatic representatives and to reopen peace negotiations.141 However, Edward III was already planning his next move against the French with his German allies, while Philip VI sought further papal support. On 9 August Benedict XII backed the French king in a letter based on the theme of God’s help being granted to those fighting enemies of the faith and rebels against the Church (ab hostibus fidei et sancte matris Ecclesie rebellibus).142 At the same time, the pope advised his envoys on the proposed peace between England and France, which had been delayed by Edward III’s negotiations with his allies in Germany.143 Finally, on 1 September, probably aware of the meeting between Edward III and Louis of Bavaria at Niederwerth near Koblenz – where the English king settled the payment owed to his allies for their support against France and accepted the title of Imperial vicar – Benedict XII openly warned Philip VI that his enemies were planning to move against French territory on the Burgundian borders, prompting him to reinforce his garrisons on the Rhône.144 Indeed, on 13 November 1338 Benedict XII had to defend himself from the accusations of the Imperial party of having offered financial support to Philip VI, providing him with funding from the Apostolic Chamber.145 At the same time, as Jenkins put it, Benedict XII also openly condemned the Anglo-German alliance and Edward’s acceptance of the title of Imperial vicar, reiterating the accusations of heresy against the emperor and his supporters. In his letter the pope, as a former inquisitor, built his argument around the topos of the spreading of the heretical disease, recalling John XXII’s condemnation of Louis of Bavaria for heresy (de pravitatibus hereticis) and concluding that, although sinful behaviour was human, persevering in it was evil.146 Furthermore, the pope invoked Louis’s support 141 Ibid., nos 470–1, cols 297–8. 142 Ibid., no. 480, cols 301–2. 143 Ibid., nos 481–2, cols 302–4. 144 Ibid., no. 492, cols 306–7; Déprez, Les préliminaires, 199; Sumption, Trial by Battle, 243–4. 145 Rymer, 1063–5. See also Jenkins, Papal Efforts, 42–3. 146 Rymer, 1064. See also, ibid., ‘Carefully considering that, although it is human to sin, nevertheless persistence in sins is to be considered diabolical’ (‘Considerantes diligenter quod, licet humanum sit peccare, in peccatis tamen perseverantia diabolica est censenda’).

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for notorious heretics and the antipope Peter of Corbara and his usurpation of royal and ecclesiastical jurisdictions in Italy and Germany. Finally, Benedict XII recalled his several reconciliation attempts with the emperor, reprimanding Edward III for his acceptance of the title of Imperial vicar, which Louis had no authority to bestow on him.147 Notoriously, as it had happened since 1334, Benedict XII once more failed to prevent the unfolding of the Anglo-French conflict and the two sides came to an open military confrontation in September 1339, when Edward III entered the Cambrésis. This is not altogether surprising. The conflict between England and France had in fact already assumed such an international character, through Edward III’s alliance with Louis of Bavaria and the German principalities, and it was beyond the political power of the papacy to stop it. Indeed, while the papal delaying tactics between 1334 and 1339 managed to postpone the outbreak of the Anglo-French hostilities, one can agree with Edouard Perroy that overall Benedict XII’s attempts were ‘dogged but ill-fated’,148 since they ultimately allowed Edward III and his diplomatic envoys to buy some precious time and build an international anti-French coalition. Similarly, I would agree with Sumption when he emphasized Benedict XII’s realism and independence in dealing with Philip VI and Edward III.149 Indeed, the pope arguably built his diplomatic network carefully, making use of his envoys in a proactive rather than passive way. Indeed, the pope conducted the diplomatic discourse with England and France on a political level, through several attempts at establishing truces and peace negotiations, as well as on a more informal level, securing the loyalty of both parties through the granting of favours, such as the concession of the income from ecclesiastical taxation made to Philip VI in the summer 1338.150 Unlike Willershausen, who stressed how Benedict XII seized the initiative and undertook a new peace-making policy through the use of legates only from 1338, I would argue that the pope actively engaged with France and England from the beginning of his pontificate. Yet, from the summer 1337, when Anglo-French relations deteriorated, he did raise the level of his diplomatic engagement in the Anglo-French conflict, dispatching two cardinals, Pedro Gomez de Barroso of Santa Prassede and Bertrand of Montfavès of S. Maria in Aquiro, to France and England. Evidence further shows that Benedict XII 147 Rymer, 1065. 148 Perroy, The Hundred Years War, 88, 90, 100–2, 106. 149 Sumption, Trial by Battle, 145–6, 152–5, 169–70, 395. 150 See above, n. 128.

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entrusted his diplomatic mission with full powers and kept track of their actions through his diplomatic correspondence very effectively. Indeed, careful examination of the Anglo-papal correspondence sheds new light on how Benedict XII did not exclusively focus on the diplomatic exchange with Philip VI, as argued in earlier studies, but actively and continuously engaged with the English Crown in his attempt to prevent the war. Overall, as Sumption has argued, Benedict XII was probably the least sympathetic of the Avignon popes to the French interests, and only switched his support towards Philip VI in autumn 1338 in light of the imminent Anglo-German attack against France and the consolidation of the pacts between Louis of Bavaria and Edward III, especially after the latter had been entrusted with the title of Imperial vicar.151 Most interestingly, the pope engaged in an original diplomatic correspondence with the English and the French Crowns, building on his personal expertise as a theologian and a former inquisitor. This is clearly evidenced in those papal letters which engage with the heresy of Louis of Bavaria as well as in the correspondence concerning the right of the Apostolic See to negotiate a lasting peace between England and France, which Benedict XII saw as a duty and privilege of the papacy owing to its plenitude of power. All in all, I would therefore refrain from assessing Benedict XII’s attempt at preventing the outbreak of the Hundred Years’ War on the basis of its outcome, which was undeniably a failure. Arguably, the pope reacted and engaged with the political circumstances using all the means at his disposal, but was not able to control Edward III, Louis of Bavaria, and Philip VI’s individual agendas. If anything, Benedict XII’s failed attempts at preventing the outbreak of the Anglo-French conflict therefore evidence the inability of the late-medieval papacy at carrying any political weight before the secular rulers rather than Benedict XII’s personal miscalculation of the circumstances. Barbara Bombi, University of Kent

151 Sumption, Trial by Battle, 145–6, 152–5, 169–70, 395.

8. Benedict XII and the Crusades Mike Carr Abstract This chapter analyses the crusading policy of Benedict XII in regard to the Eastern Mediterranean, Iberia, and north-eastern Europe. It explores the implementation and withholding of papal crusading mechanisms by the pope – such as preaching, indulgences, and tithes – as well as the negotiations that he instigated in an attempt to form Christian alliances against Muslims in the East, all of which come under the wider umbrella of crusading during the period. The chapter concludes by addressing the effect which Benedict’s pontificate had on shaping wider crusading strategy during the fourteenth century. Keywords: Papacy, crusades, Turks, Byzantines, Venice, Hospitallers, Benedict XII

During the fourteenth century the Eastern Mediterranean underwent a dramatic political and religious transformation. The Mamluk sultanate of Egypt maintained control of the Holy Land and the southern Levantine regions, but in Asia Minor, Greece, and the Balkans the rising Anatolian Turkish principalities began to replace previous Byzantine, Frankish, and Serbo-Bulgarian domination. In this century, the planning and launching of a crusade to the East changed in accordance with this new reality, both in terms of who initiated a crusade and against whom one was aimed. Although a desire to liberate Jerusalem never died out, it is safe to say that the fourteenth century witnessed a change in crusade impetus, as proposals to defend Christian territories from Turkish advances came to dominate crusading strategy. In other theatres too, great changes were underfoot during this period. In Iberia the kingdoms of Castile, Aragon-Catalonia, and Portugal gradually pushed the Moors from all but the southernmost regions of the peninsula, and in north-eastern Europe the Catholic rulers

Bueno, Irene (ed.), Pope Benedict XII (1334–1342). The Guardian of Orthodoxy. Amsterdam University Press, 2018 doi: 10.5117/9789462986770_ch08

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launched increasingly successful campaigns to convert and subject the Lithuanians and other Baltic peoples, as well as to defend their territories from Tartar incursions.1 The pontificate of Benedict XII was sandwiched between two of the most active crusading popes of the century, John XXII (1316–1334) and Clement VI (1342–1352). Their dedication to the crusade was characterized by a vigorous response to the Turkish threat, reflected by two of the most significant crusading enterprises of the period: the naval league launched in the Aegean in 1333–1334, and the crusade of Smyrna in 1343–1352. The reign of Benedict XII stood squarely between these two periods of heightened crusade activity, yet his pontificate was marked by a lack of action in regard to the Aegean and the Levant. Indeed, as Norman Housley has commented, ‘in terms of a crusade to the East, Benedict’s reign was the least productive of the Avignon popes’.2 Nevertheless, Benedict granted crusading privileges in Iberia and in north-eastern Europe, and at times he also made moves to aid the beleaguered Christian rulers of the Eastern Mediterranean, as well as to seek reconciliation with Greek Orthodox and excommunicate Catholic groups in Romania. In an attempt to untangle these seemingly contradictory and inconsistent policies, this chapter will explore the papal response to the rulers of these different regions in regard to their defence of the faith against non-Christians, as well as their ability to maintain doctrinal orthodoxy. In particular, this chapter will analyse the implementation and withholding of papal mechanisms associated with crusading – such as preaching, indulgences, and tithes – as well as the negotiations undertaken in an attempt to form Christian alliances against Muslims, all of which come under the wider umbrella of crusading during the period.3 Finally, the 1 For an introduction to the crusades of the fourteenth century, see M. Carr, Merchant Crusaders in the Aegean, 1291-1352 (Woodbridge, 2015); C.J. Tyerman, ‘New Wine in Old Skins? The crusade and the Eastern Mediterranean in the later Middle Ages’, in Byzantines, Latins and Turks in the Eastern Mediterranean World after 1150, ed. C. Holmes and J. Harris (Oxford, 2012), 265–89; N. Housley, The Avignon Papacy and the Crusades, 1305–1378 (Oxford, 1986); N. Housley, The Later Crusades from Lyons to Alcazar, 1274–1580 (Oxford, 1992), 8–79; K.M. Setton, The Papacy and the Levant: 1204–1571, 4 vols (Philadelphia, 1976–84), i, 162–369; E.A. Zachariadou, Trade and Crusade: Venetian Crete and the Emirates of Menteshe and Aydin (1300–1415) (Venice, 1983), 4–75; E. Christiansen, The Northern Crusades: the Baltic and the Catholic frontier, 1100–1525 (London, 1980), 132–91; J.F. O’Callaghan, The Gibraltar Crusade: Castile and the battle for the strait (Philadelphia, 2011), 112–217. 2 Housley, Avignon Papacy, 31. 3 As Tyerman has noted, some campaigns attracted all of the apparatus associated with crusading, whilst others are less clear: Tyerman, ‘New Wine in Old Skins?’, 266.

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chapter will conclude by addressing the effect that Benedict’s pontificate had on shaping wider crusading strategy during the fourteenth century.

Crusade Planning in 1334–1335: Continuity and Support After the death of John XXII in December 1334, Benedict took the helm of the naval league in the Aegean. This was a combined flotilla made up of vessels provided by the papacy and the king of France, along with those of the Kingdom of Cyprus, the Republic of Venice, and the Knights Hospitaller of Rhodes. The league assembled in the summer of 1334 and won numerous successes against the Turks, most notably a crushing victory over the emir of Karasi off the Gulf of Adramyttion in September. 4 On his accession, Benedict continued to support the plans already laid by his predecessor for a second wave of this league, which it was initially intended would act as a preliminary passage for a crusade to the Holy Land to be led by Philip VI of France in August 1336.5 Details of the second phase of the league had already been outlined by John XXII shortly before his death when the pope had written to Robert of Naples urging him to participate in the forthcoming offensive. This was to involve transporting an army across the Mediterranean to fight the Turks on land and to deliver aid to Cilician Armenia. The force was to consist of a total of 800 men – 400 provided by the papacy and France, 200 by the Hospitallers, 100 by Hugh IV of Cyprus, and 100 by the Byzantine emperor – as well as galleys and horse transports from the same powers and from Venice and Naples.6 The cousin of the French king, Louis of Clermont, was originally appointed to lead this expedition, 4 For a detailed discussion of the naval league of 1334, see V. Ivanov, ‘Sancta Unio or the Holy League 1332–36/7 as a Political Factor in the Eastern Mediterranean and the Aegean’, Études Balkaniques, 48 (2012), 142–76; Zachariadou, Trade and Crusade, 21–40; P. Lemerle, L’Émirat d’Aydin, Byzance et l’Occident: recherches sur la ‘Geste d’Umur Pacha’ (Paris, 1957), 89–101; Carr, Merchant Crusaders, 63–78. 5 Housley, Avignon Papacy, 24–6. 6 The exact numbers of ships are: sixteen horse transports from Philip VI; four horse transports and six galleys from Hugh of Cyprus; four horse transports and four galleys from Robert of Naples; ten galleys from Venice; and six galleys each from the Hospitallers and the Byzantine emperor. Lettres secrètes et curiales du pape Jean XXII, iv, doc. 5485 (19 May 1334); also see docs 5406, 5412; Housley, Avignon Papacy, 26; C.J. Tyerman, ‘Philip VI and the Recovery of the Holy Land’, English Historical Review, 100 (1985), 25–52, at 37–8. Contrary to the claim of Deno Geanakoplos, there is no evidence to suggest that in 1335 the Byzantine emperor agreed to participate in the general passage to the Holy Land: D.J. Geanakoplos, ‘Byzantium and the Crusades, 1261–1354’, in History of the Crusades, ed. K.M. Setton, 6 vols (Wisconsin, 1969–89), iii, 27–68, at 53. According to Nikephoros Gregoras, Emperor Andronikos III did arm twenty ships in 1335–36, but these

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but he was replaced in October 1334 by Hugh Quiéret, a royal advisor and the seneschal of Beaucaire and Nîmes.7 In March 1335, two months after his coronation, Benedict XII wrote to Robert of Naples reiterating the appeal made by John XXII in the previous year. He informed Robert that after hearing of the ‘terrible oppression’ inflicted by the Turks on the Christians of Romania, he had met with the representatives of the French king, the Hospitallers, and the Venetians at Avignon to expedite preparations for the new crusade.8 To demonstrate his support for this campaign, Benedict ordered the construction of four papal galleys in Marseille to supplement five more hired by Philip VI in Marseille and Nice. According to the sources, these galleys were to set out for Rhodes in mid-May, where they would serve in the Aegean for five months against the Turks in a campaign separate from the Holy Land crusade, at a total cost of 11,500 florins.9 The next month Benedict issued indulgences in articulo mortis to the captain-general Hugh Quiéret and to those who were to accompany him on the expedition, providing that they were contrite of heart and had made oral confession.10 At this time, Benedict XII also lent support to John XXII’s other crusade plan, the general passage being organized by Philip VI to the Holy Land. In January 1335, the pope confirmed his predecessor’s bulls relating to the crusade, including the continuation of the clerical tenth for the expedition.11 were not designated for the Holy Land crusade; nor were they ever used in a naval league: N. Gregoras, Byzantina Historia, ed. L. Schopen and I. Bekker, 3 vols (Bonn, 1829–55), i, 524–5. 7 Lettres secrètes et curiales du pape Jean XXII, iv, doc. 5485; J. Delaville le Roulx, La France en Orient au XIVe siècle, 2 vols (Paris, 1886), i, 101. 8 BXII: France, doc. 28; Annales Ecclesiastici, ed. C. Baronio et al., 37 vols (Paris, 1608–1883), xxv, 31 (ch. 29); F. Giunta, ‘Benedetto XII e la crociata’, Anuario de estudios medievales, 3 (1966), 215–34, at 217–8. 9 BXII: France, docs 28, 40, 54; BXII: Communes, i, doc. 2467; A. Jal, Archéologie navale, 2 vols (Paris, 1840), ii, 326–33. The cost of the galleys was affordable considering that John XXII had left the papal camera with a considerable surplus of around 750,000 florins: N. Housley, The Italian Crusades: the papal-Angevin alliance and the crusades against Christian lay powers, 1254–1343 (Oxford, 1982), 250–1. Helen Jenkins has claimed that this flotilla was linked to the Holy Land crusade, but the sources do not indicate that this was the case: H. Jenkins, ‘Papal Efforts for Peace under Benedict XII: 1334–1342’, unpublished PhD thesis, University of Pennsylvania (1933), 24. The correct sequence and destination of these campaigns is given by Housley, Avignon Papacy, 28. 10 Vatican City, ASV, Reg. Vat. 119, fols 132–3, docs 343–8 (esp. docs 343–4, 347); summaries in BXII: Communes, i, docs 2247–50, 2253. The bulls issuing the indulgences are almost word-for-word copies of those issued to the previous captain-general, John of Cepoy, on 19 May 1334: ASV, Reg. Av. 46, fol. 560v; Reg. Vat. 107, fol. 243r, docs 729–30; summaries in Jean XXII: lettres communes, xiii, docs 63170–1. 11 BXII: Communes, i, docs 2453, 2466, 2469; BXII: France, docs 19, 66.

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In many senses it is not surprising that Benedict agreed to support this crusade. The initial preparations had already been set in place by John XXII and King Philip, the Turks were experiencing difficulties in Romania, and, most importantly, a crusade to the Holy Land could be used as a means of distracting the Christian rulers from their quarrels in the West.12 This last point is crucial to understanding Benedict’s attitude to the crusade at this time. As has been shown, the second wave of the naval league and the planned Holy Land crusade had attracted the combined participation of the kings of France and Cyprus, the Venetians, and the Hospitallers. Furthermore, the pope had made attempts to persuade Robert of Naples to take part. It is likely that Benedict even considered these crusades as a means of encouraging enemies of the Church, such as Louis of Bavaria and the Visconti of Milan, to reconcile themselves to the Holy See.13 Matthew Visconti had, after all, pledged to go on crusade in 1321, and Louis of Bavaria included the promise of crusade participation in a peace proposal offered to Benedict in October 1336, which suggests that the political enemies of the papacy also viewed the crusade as a route towards reconciliation.14 When these factors are considered, it is not surprising that Benedict made initial efforts to support the crusades initially planned by his predecessor, even if these were to be scrapped in the following year.

Crusade Planning in 1335–1336: Diversion and Abandonment The French fleet under the command of Hugh Quiéret was still on course to be dispatched to Rhodes and the Aegean in the spring of 1335, but only a few months later the political situation in France shifted dramatically when Edward III of England launched a naval expedition against Scotland, the traditional ally of the French king. Philip made plans to intervene on behalf of the Scots, and in early 1336, whilst at Marseille, he unveiled a fleet to be sent to the English Channel. This was to be commanded by Hugh Quiéret and included those galleys which had been originally designated for action against the Turks. By prioritizing the war against the English, Philip 12 Jenkins, ‘Papal Efforts for Peace’, 23–5; Tyerman, ‘Philip VI and the Recovery of the Holy Land’, 45. 13 This conformed with the conciliatory attitude adopted by Benedict towards Louis and the Italian Ghibellines: see Chapter 6 by Sylvain Parent in this volume, as well as G. Mollat, The Popes at Avignon: 1305–1378, trans. J. Love (London, 1963), 110–19, 221–4; Jenkins, ‘Papal Efforts for Peace’, 22–3. 14 Housley, Italian Crusades, 80, 84–5.

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terminated his commitment to the anti-Turkish enterprise and effectively ended any hopes of a second wave of the naval league sailing to the Aegean. After this point the papal galleys also failed to leave Marseille for the East.15 At this stage, the preparations for Philip VI’s general passage to the Holy Land began to founder as well, predictably on the grounds of finance and the emerging Anglo-French war. For the papacy and the French Crown, this was a repeat of the same wrangling which had continually hindered crusade plans in the past. Philip required security with England and sufficient Church finance before fully committing to a general passage, but Benedict was unwilling to allow the tenth to be used for purposes not directly linked with the crusade, especially when Europe was in such a state of disorder. Even if the French considered their own security as an integral prerequisite for the general passage, the papacy had shown that it was unwilling to grant Church tenths for the defence of France or allow Philip access to any tithes levied on the Church outside of his kingdom.16 By 1336 these disputes had ground negotiations to a halt, and in March Benedict wrote to the king that all preparations for the general passage and the crusade tenths associated with it were being cancelled. Echoing John XXII’s words in the early 1320s, Benedict informed the king that the crusade had been cancelled because of the situation in Europe – England and Scotland were in perpetual conflict and Germany was at war, while Tuscany, Lombardy, Apulia, and Sicily were all in a state of anarchy.17 Throughout the greater part of 1335 Benedict had clearly supported the crusades originally planned by John XXII, partly because the processes 15 Les Grandes Chroniques de France, ed. J. Viard, Société de l’Histoire de France, 10 vols (Paris, 1820–53), v, 364; C.M. de la Roncière, Histoire de la Marine Française, 5 vols (Paris, 1889–1920), i, 389–91; E. Déprez, Les préliminaires de la guerre de cent ans: la papauté, la France et l’Angleterre (1328–1342) (Paris, 1902), 127; Tyerman, ‘Philip VI and the Recovery of the Holy Land’, 46–7. For the contrasting priorities of the pope and King Philip with regard to the Anglo-French conflict, see Mollat, The Popes at Avignon, 252. 16 For this in general see Jenkins, ‘Papal Efforts for Peace’, 5–25, 34–5; Tyerman, ‘Philip VI and the Recovery of the Holy Land’, 42–5. 17 Lettres secrètes et curiales du pape Jean XXII, i, doc. 1227; BXII: Pays autres, doc. 786; Calendar of Entries in the Papal Registers Relating to Great Britain and Ireland: papal letters (1198–1513), ed. W.H. Bliss et al., Irish Manuscripts Commission, 19 vols (London and Dublin, 1893–1998, in progress), ii, doc. 560 (also published in Déprez, Les préliminaires de la guerre de cent ans, 410–13). In November–December 1336 the collection of the crusade tenth was cancelled and it was decreed that the proceeds be restored to the Church: BXII: France, docs 240, 251, 280; BXII: Communes, ii, docs 3954–5, 3998–9, 5139–40, 6302. Also see J.B. Henneman, Royal Taxation in Fourteenth-Century France: the development of war financing, 1322–1356 (Princeton NJ, 1971), 107; Jenkins, ‘Papal Efforts for Peace’, 23–5; Déprez, Les préliminaires de la guerre de cent ans, 123–4; Housley, Avignon Papacy, 29, 180–1; Tyerman, ‘Philip VI and the Recovery of the Holy Land’, 45–7.

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had already been set in motion by the previous pope and partly because Benedict realized that a successful crusade would help maintain peace within Christendom, especially by diverting French attention from the Anglo-Scottish conflict.18 Philip VI’s decision to help the Scottish against the English in late 1335 and his diversion of Hugh Quiéret’s crusade fleet to the English Channel put an end to this and ultimately forced Benedict to cancel the Holy Land crusade. After this point, as Tyerman has suggested, the crusade was considered by Benedict as separate from attempts to gain peace in the West, and consequently all plans for it were shelved.19 The pope’s attitude towards the crusade was in many ways indicative of his personal priorities, which lay in internal Church reform and the defence of orthodoxy rather than international diplomacy and the defence of Christendom from the infidel, both of which had been skilfully pursued by John XXII. This reflects the personality of Benedict, who as Jacques Fournier was an ascetic Cistercian, a scrupulous inquisitor, and a renowned theologian. As other chapters in this volume have shown, especially that of Elizabeth Sherman, during his time as bishop of Pamiers he had ardently pursued Waldensian, Catharist, and Spiritual heretics, and had been placed in charge of the appeals of the Inquisition at Avignon by John XXII.20 Furthermore, as a cardinal, Benedict had participated in important theological debates where he propagated his commitment to the defence of Roman doctrine and orthodoxy.21 When elected pope, it therefore comes as no surprise that Benedict turned his attention to reforming the religious orders and implementing strict discipline within the Church, rather than the pursuit of the external threat in the East.22 This commitment to reforming the Church from within, coupled with the problems hindering the crusade plans in 1335–1336, provide the reasons for why those designs were dropped and why a new crusade to the East was not fostered during his pontificate.

18 See Jenkins, ‘Papal Efforts for Peace’, 23. 19 Tyerman, ‘Philip VI and the Recovery of the Holy Land’, 45; Jenkins, ‘Papal Efforts for Peace’, 23–5. 20 See E. Sherman, ‘Jacques Fournier and Thirteenth-Century Inquisitorial Methods’, 27–56. 21 For more on this, see the Introduction to this book (at 13–26), as well as the contributions by C. Trottmann, ‘Benedict XII and the Beatific Vision’ and S. Piron, ‘Recovering a Theological Advice by Jacques Fournier’, 57–106. 22 For more on the career and character of Jacques Fournier, see the Introduction to this volume (at 13–26), together with Mollat, The Popes at Avignon, 26–36 and Jenkins, ‘Papal Efforts for Peace’, 15–7.

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Crusading in the East, 1335–1342 1.

Papal Relations with Cyprus, Cilician Armenia, and the Latin Aegean Powers

The collapse of the crusade plans of 1335–1336 did not, however, mark the end of joint Christian resistance against the Turks in the Aegean, or the requests for papal aid from the Latins of the East. But, unlike his predecessor, Benedict did not go to great lengths to support the defence of Christian territories in Romania; instead, when he did take action this was usually haphazard in nature or driven by his overriding concern over false doctrine. As has been shown already, the Latins of the Aegean had managed to establish a semi-united front against the Turks by the early 1330s, which had attracted significant support from the papacy of John XXII as well as from Philip VI of France. In addition to this, the two kingdoms of Cyprus and Cilician Armenia had also come under increasing pressure from the Turks of Anatolia, as well as from the Mongols to the east, and the Mamluks in the south, who were threatening both kingdoms from their northernmost lands in Syria.23 In fact, both Cyprus and Armenia were closely linked to the crusading projects supported by John XXII in the Aegean. King Hugh IV of Cyprus, for example, had contributed to the naval league of 1333–1334, whilst the follow-up wave of the same expedition was initially envisaged as a means of bringing aid to Cilician Armenia, before its cancellation.24 Given the close links established between the Curia and Armenia over the planned expeditions to the East, it comes as no surprise that King Leo V continued to appeal to the papacy for aid after the accession of Benedict XII. Initially the pope showed a willingness to heed the warnings of the Armenian king, and was even willing to grant him a plenary indulgence in 1335

23 For more on Cyprus and Cilician Armenia during this period, see N. Coureas, The Latin Church in Cyprus: 1313–1378 (Nicosia, 2010), 97–179; P.W. Edbury, The Kingdom of Cyprus and the Crusades: 1191–1374 (Cambridge, 1991), 101–41; G.F. Hill, A History of Cyprus, 4 vols (Cambridge, 1940–52), ii, 192–303; M.-A. Chevalier, Les ordres religieux-militaires en Arménie cilicienne: templiers, hospitaliers, teutoniques et Arméniens à l’époque des croisades (Paris, 2009), 573–678; J.G. Ghazarian, The Armenian Kingdom in Cilicia during the Crusades: the integration of Cilician Armenians with the Latins, 1080–1393 (Richmond, 2000), 157–68; A.T. Luttrell, ‘The Hospitallers’ Interventions in Cilician Armenia: 1271–1375’, in The Armenian Kingdom of Cilicia, ed. T.S.R. Boase (Edinburgh, 1978), 118–48. Jacob of Verona provides a rich account of Armenian refugees seeking shelter in Famagusta after an attack from the Mamluk sultan in the summer of 1335: Jacob of Verona, Liber Peregrinationis, ed. U. Monneret de Villard (Rome, 1950), 17–8. 24 See Lettres secrètes et curiales du pape Jean XXII, iv, doc. 5412.

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to cover all the occasions where he had fought against Muslims.25 But after the cancellation of the second wave of the naval league and the Holy Land crusade of Philip VI, the provisional plans to bring aid to Armenia made in connection to these campaigns were also abandoned. Even a suggestion made by Philip that some of the crusade tithe should be sent to Armenia to help ease the famine caused by a Mamluk invasion in 1335 was rejected by the pope, who argued that the money could only be used for the crusade.26 Nevertheless, in April 1336, at Philip’s behest, Benedict eventually agreed to allocate 10,000 florins for the purchase of grain to be sent to Armenia to alleviate the famine.27 By this time the situation in Armenia had reached a critical point and the pope, possibly in an attempt to compensate for the cancellation of earlier plans to bring aid, wrote to the clergy of the East that plenary indulgences should be granted to all the Christian faithful from Sicily, Cyprus, Rhodes, Negroponte, and the other Christian islands of the Eastern Mediterranean who would fight for the Armenians for one year or send equivalent soldiers and money for their aid.28 In the context of other indulgences granted at this time, this constituted a very liberal spiritual privilege. In fact these indulgences were more generous than those issued for fighting the Turks in Greece and the Aegean by John XXII in the 1320s, and than those issued to the participants of the naval league in 1334 and 1335. These indulgences were only awarded in articulo mortis – that is, for death on campaign or thereafter from wounds received.29 However, despite this move it can be assumed from the silence of the sources in regard to these indulgences, and from the continued requests for aid from Armenia, that this papal initiative was largely ineffective. 25 Acta Benedicti XII, doc. 5. Cf. BXII: France, doc. 55. 26 Tyerman, ‘Philip VI and the Recovery of the Holy Land’, 47. 27 BXII: France, doc. 155; Y. Renouard, ‘Une expédition de céréales des Pouilles en Arménie par les Bardi pour le compte de Benoît XII’, Mélanges d’archéologie et d’histoire, 53 (1936), 287–329. 28 BXII: France, docs 175–6 (1 May 1336); BXII: Communes, i, doc. 3971. Also see Zachariadou, Trade and Crusade, 34–5; Hill, A History of Cyprus, ii, 299; Housley, Avignon Papacy, 30. This is also discussed in Irene Bueno’s chapter of this book, ‘Benedict XII and the partes Orientis’, 241–67. 29 In 1322 for fighting the Greeks, Bulgars, Alans, and Turks in the principality of Achaia: Reg. Av. 18, fol. 152v; Reg. Vat. 74, fol. 93v, doc. 209; summaries in Jean XXII. Lettres communes, iv, doc. 16672; in 1323 and 1325 for fighting against the Turks near Chios: L. Gatto, ‘Per la storia di Martino Zaccaria, signore di Chio’, Bulletino dell’Archivio Paleografico Italiano, NS 2–3, part 1 (1956–7), 325–45, at 344–5 (Appendix doc. 5); summaries in Jean XXII. Lettres communes, iv, doc. 16977, v, doc. 22117. For the naval league in 1334: Reg. Av. 46, fol. 560v; Reg. Vat. 107, fol. 243r, doc. 729–30; summaries in Jean XXII. Lettres communes, xiii, docs 63170–1. For the naval league in 1335: Reg. Vat. 119, fols 132–3, docs 343–8; summaries in BXII: Communes, i, docs 2247–50, 2253. For a discussion of indulgences issued for crusading in this period, see Carr, Merchant Crusaders, 107–18.

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Although it would be harsh to underplay the concern of the pope towards Armenia at this time, it seems that by abandoning the crusade plans of his predecessor, Benedict had effective replaced a coherent policy with one that lacked the careful organization and consistency required to be successful.30 Moreover, when potential theological differences with the Armenians emerged, especially concerns over false doctrine, the pope showed that he was willing to break off his assistance. This occurred in 1341 when, after hearing of widespread errors within the Armenian Church, Benedict insisted that King Leo convene a council of prelates to enforce Catholic teaching and refused to send aid to the kingdom until orthodoxy was restored.31 Bearing this in mind it is clear that the defence of Christian territory from the infidel was not always the primary concern of the Curia during the pontificate of Benedict XII. In regard to Cyprus, Benedict on occasion heeded the advice of Hugh IV, but he crucially failed to provide any lasting support for the island. In the build-up to the Holy Land crusade of Philip VI, Hugh had asked the pope to cancel preaching in Cyprus on the basis that it would incite the Muslims on the Anatolian mainland, especially the Turks of Hamid and Karaman whom the king was busy fighting against.32 Benedict recognized the potential problem, and ordered Cypriot prelates that preaching for the general passage was prohibited and could only recommence once the crusade was ready.33 In the end these measures turned out to be unnecessary as the crusade was cancelled by the pope shortly after, but they nevertheless demonstrate Benedict’s awareness of the precarious position of Cyprus and the priorities of the king, which lay in the defence of his realm from the neighbouring Muslim states and not in the immediate recovery of the Holy Land. This was mirrored by Hugh’s aggressive military strategy against the Turks in these years which resulted in at least two major sea battles: the first in August 1336 when a fleet of twenty-four Cypriot galleys and other vessels defeated a Turkish force; and the second in the following July, when another flotilla numbering over twenty galleys managed to defeat a Turkish fleet and kill a prominent captain.34 In addition, the travel writer Ludolf of Sudheim 30 This point is strongly made by Housley, Avignon Papacy, 30. 31 BXII: Pays autres, docs 3149–55 (1 August); Acta Benedicti XII, docs 55–6; Housley, Avignon Papacy, 31. 32 N. Housley, ‘Cyprus and the Crusades, 1291–1571’, in Cyprus and the Crusades: papers given at the international conference ‘Cyprus and the Crusades’, ed. N. Coureas and J. Riley-Smith (Nicosia, 1995), 187–206, at 192. 33 BXII: Pays autres, docs 732–3 (3 January 1336); Hill, A History of Cyprus, ii, 299; Edbury, The Kingdom of Cyprus, 157. 34 Liber pontificalis, ii, 527 (Appendix 1). Carr, Merchant Crusaders, 102–3.

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reported that by the early 1340s, the king of Cyprus had been so successful against the Turks of southern Asia Minor that he had forced many of the coastal towns to pay him tribute.35 It is interesting to note that Benedict XII was not ignorant of these achievements; indeed, in early 1338 he wrote to the king praising his ‘glorious victory against the Turks’.36 But despite this verbal encouragement, Benedict showed no interest in promoting a crusade against the Turks in the region as John XXII had, or of offering any other form of papal assistance in the defence of the kingdom. In fact, the indulgences granted in support of Armenia in 1336 were the sole papal privileges offered to the faithful from Cyprus, but they may have actually hindered the defence of this kingdom as they were only permitted to those who would fight against the Mamluks in Cilician Armenia, and not against the Turks near the island.37 Thus Benedict, whether deliberately or not, was potentially diverting men and resources from the Cypriot theatre towards Cilician Armenia and further east.38 If the policies of Benedict XII towards Armenia had a potentially negative effect on the defence of Cyprus, then for the very same reasons they were also detrimental to the struggle against the Turks further north in the Aegean. By cancelling the second wave of the naval league in 1336 the pope had already demonstrated that a crusading campaign in the Aegean would not receive his support, and in the following years he took further steps to distance himself from the activities of the Latin powers of the region. A good example of this can be found in the attitude of the pope towards the Knights Hospitaller of Rhodes, especially the restriction of finances made available to the order for their overseas activities, such as in May 1336 when Benedict refused to help f inance a joint Hospitaller–Venetian fleet for the Aegean.39 One explanation for this may be found in the deteriorating 35 Ludolf von Sudheim, Description of the Holy Land, and of the Way Thither, trans. A. Stewart, Library of the Palestine Pilgrims’ Text Society, 12 (London, 1895), 44; Coureas, The Latin Church in Cyprus, 100. 36 BXII: Pays autres, doc. 1673 (9 February 1338); the letter is also published in Annales Ecclesiastici, xxv, 140 (ch. 72). See also Coureas, The Latin Church in Cyprus, 100; Delaville le Roulx, France en Orient, i, 91; Hill, A History of Cyprus, ii, 299; Giunta, ‘Benedetto XII e la crociata’, 230. 37 BXII: France, doc. 175, 116–7. 38 This point is also made by Zachariadou, Trade and Crusade, 35. 39 Venice, Archivio di Stato, Deliberazioni Misti del Senato 17, fol. 60v; Venezia-senato: deliberazioni miste, ed. F.-X. Leduc et al., 20 vols (Venice, 2004–), iv, Register XVII, 1335–1339, 250–2, docs 664–7. The Venetian and Rhodian ships did still assemble at Crete in the summer of 1336, but they disbanded after failing to receive any further support from the West: A.T. Luttrell, ‘Venice and the Knights Hospitallers of Rhodes in the Fourteenth Century’, in idem, The Hospitallers in Cyprus, Rhodes, Greece, and the West, 1291–1440, Collected Studies, 77 (Aldershot, 1978), item V, 203.

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stability of the Italian banking houses during the 1330s. The Hospitallers and the papacy shared the same Florentine banks, and since the late 1320s the order had amassed significant credit with the struggling companies, which Benedict was understandably unwilling for them to expend on a prolonged campaign against the Turks. 40 Considering these factors it comes as little surprise that a year later Venice made peace with the Turks of Aydin and Menteshe on the western coast of Asia Minor, whilst the Hospitallers seem to have also withdrawn from intensive military activity in the region. 41 2.

Crusades against the Catalans of Athens

In 1311 the Catalan Company killed Duke Walter I of Brienne at the battle of Halmyros and captured the Duchy of Athens, after which they were excommunicated and targeted in a number of campaigns initiated by the papacy, along with the Frankish lords of Achaia and the titular duke, Walter II of Brienne. John XXII had been particularly hostile towards the Company by supporting numerous Angevin attempts to recover Athens in the 1320s, and even going as far as to preach a crusade against them on behalf of Walter II in 1330. 42 For the majority of his pontificate Benedict XII maintained the same aggressive strategy towards the Catalans of Athens as that adopted by his predecessor, which, on the one hand, shows that he was not completely disinterested in affairs in Frankish Greece and the Aegean but, on the other, suggests that his priorities lay in supporting the Brienne claim and opposing a renegade Catholic group rather than defending the region from Turkish incursions. Benedict took his first action against the Company early in his pontificate, in December 1335, when he ordered the archbishop of Patras, Guillaume

40 For more on this, see A.T. Luttrell, ‘The Hospitallers and their Florentine Bankers: 1306–1346’, in idem, Studies on the Hospitallers after 1306 (Aldershot, 2007), item VI, 21–2; A.T. Luttrell, ‘The Hospitallers at Rhodes: 1306–1421’, in The Hospitallers in Cyprus, Rhodes, Greece, and the West, item I, 293–4; M. Carr, ‘The Hospitallers of Rhodes and their Alliances against the Turks’, in Islands and Military Orders, c.1291–1798, ed. S. Phillips and E. Buttigieg (Farnham, 2013), 172–3; E.S. Hunt, The Medieval Super Companies: a study of the Peruzzi company of Florence (Cambridge, 1994), 134–9, 234–5. 41 Zachariadou, Trade and Crusade, 35–8. 42 For a background to the Catalan conquest of Athens, see D. Jacoby, ‘Catalans, Turcs et Vénitiens en Romanie (1305–1332): un nouveau témoignage de Marino Sanudo Torsello’, Studi Medievali, 15.1 (1974), 217–61; K.M. Setton, ‘The Avignonese Papacy and the Catalan Duchy of Athens’, Byzantion, 17 (1944–45), 281–303; idem, Catalan Domination of Athens, 1311–1388 (Cambridge, MA, 1948), 1–44; idem, ‘The Catalans in Greece, 1311–1380’, in A History of the Crusades, iii, 167–224.

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Frangipani, to excommunicate the Catalans. 43 This came after they had failed to comply with a papal demand issued by John XXII in the previous year that the Company restore Athens to Walter II or suffer ecclesiastical punishment. 44 In the following years, the pope continued to support the dynastic ambitions of Walter II by opening up negotiations for another campaign to Greece; but support for this proved to be lacklustre, especially from Venice and the other Aegean powers who, preoccupied with the Turks, refused to contribute to any Brienne expedition to the Morea. 45 Attitudes on the ground towards the Catalans may have also begun to soften in these years, as is indicated by the actions of Archbishop Isnard of Thebes, who had celebrated Mass in the presence of the Catalans and published a declaration relaxing their ban of excommunication, without official papal approval. Isnard was probably motivated by the high numbers of Catalan apostates to Greek Orthodoxy who felt alienated from the Roman Church by repeated ecclesiastical censure, but Benedict nevertheless maintained his hard-line stance, summoning the archbishop to Avignon to face trial for his misdemeanours in 1339. 46 In the past the papacy had justified military action against the Catalans on the basis that they had allied with the ‘infidel’ Turks and ‘schismatic’ Greeks against the Latins in Greece and the Aegean. 47 As a result of the papal–Brienne preparations to launch another expedition to the Morea in 1335–1336, the Catalan Company continued this policy and called on Umur Pasha of Aydin, the lord of Smyrna, to provide them with military 43 R.-J. Loenertz, ‘Athènes et Néopatras: regestes et documents pour servir à l’histoire ecclésiastique des Duchés catalans (1311–1395)’, Archivum Fratrum Praedicatorum, 28 (1958), doc. 65 (29 December). 44 Diplomatari de l’Orient català, 1301–1409: colleció de documents per a la història de l’expedició catalana a Orient i dels ducats d’Atenes i Neopàtria, ed. A. Rubió i Lluch, Memòries de la Secció Històrico-Arqueològica, 56 (Barcelona, 1947; repr. Barcelona, 2001), doc. 158 (12 August 1334, incorrectly dated to 1333); Jean XXII: lettres communes, xiii, doc. 63752. 45 Venice refused to assist Walter, except to grant him permission to use state galleys to sail from Italy to Clarentza, on the north-western coast of the Morea: Diplomatari de l’Orient català, docs 162–3 (4 November 1335), 165 (11 March 1336). 46 Ibid., doc. 168 (16 March 1339, incorrectly dated to 15 March 1338), also printed in BXII: Communes, ii, doc. 7420; summary in Loenertz, ‘Athènes et Neopatras’, doc. 70. The trial was initiated by Walter II of Brienne, who had requesting that Isnard be denounced for failing to enforce the previous excommunication on the Company: Diplomatari de l’Orient català, doc. 167 (15 March 1337); BXII: Communes, i, doc. 5214; summary in Loenertz, ‘Athènes et Néopatras’, doc. 66. See also Setton, ‘The Avignonese Papacy and the Catalan Duchy of Athens’, 287, 294–5; Giunta, ‘Benedetto XII e la crociata’, 230. 47 See E.A. Zachariadou, ‘The Catalans of Athens and the beginning of Turkish Expansion in the Aegean Area’, Studi Medievali, 21/2 (1980), 821–38.

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assistance against the potential invasion. In the end, the reinforcements were not needed as the campaign never materialized, but nevertheless there is evidence that a Turkish force did sail to Athens in support of the Catalans. 48 Considering this evidence, and the Catalan record of allying with the Turks in the past, it is surprising to learn that Benedict XII did not make much of the Catalan–Turkish alliance in his bulls ordering their excommunication. In one letter, that of 1339 instructing Archbishop Isnard return to Avignon, the pope accused the Catalans of forging a partnership with the ‘schismatics, Turks, and other enemies of the Christian faith’, but this accusation is almost a word-for-word copy of that used by John XXII in a bull issued in 1334, which, in turn, was a repeat of the rhetoric used in letters condemning the Catalans dating back to 1312. 49 In this regard, Benedict was only repeating and not elaborating on the accusations made by earlier popes, which in many senses is indicative of his policy towards the Catalans at this time; one which was a rigid continuation of that of his predecessors and completely out of touch with the changing situation in the Aegean region. Benedict did, however, eventually relax his policy towards the Catalans, once it had become clear that Walter of Brienne was not going to succeed in recovering his kingdom. This change in stance came about in February 1341 when Benedict instructed the Catalans to send their officials to Avignon, after hearing that they wished to seek reconciliation with the Church. The pope died shortly after this and little more is known of this embassy, but Benedict did mention that their reconciliation could assist in the defence of the faith, a clear indication that peace with the Company was now considered as integral for the protection of Latin interests in Greece.50 It is likely that this change of attitude paved the way for Clement VI to seek a rapprochement with the Company in preparation for the crusade of Smyrna in 1343, after which he even asked for their participation in the follow-up campaign led by Humbert of Viennois in 1346.51 48 Enveri, Le destān d’Umūr Pacha (Düstūrnāme-i Enverī), trans. I. Mélikoff-Sayar (Paris, 1954), verses 1085–118; Lemerle, L’Émirat d’Aydin, 122. 49 Diplomatari de l’Orient català, docs 168 (1339) and 158 (1334). For earlier examples, see Regestum Clementis Papae V, ed. Monks of the Order of St Benedict, 10 vols (Rome, 1885–92), vii, docs 7890–91 (1312), ix, docs 10166–67 (1314); Diplomatari de l’Orient català, docs 63, 66 (1314), 94 (1318), 120 (1322). 50 BXII: France, doc. 810 (10 February 1341); Diplomatari de l’Orient català, doc. 177; Loenertz, ‘Athènes et Néopatras’, doc. 74; Giunta, ‘Benedetto XII e la crociata’, 230. 51 Diplomatari de l’Orient català, docs 182–3 (21 October 1343 and 1 April 1344); Lettres closes, patentes et curiales du pape Clément VI se rapportant à la France, ed. E. Déprez et al., Bibliothèque des Écoles françaises d’Athènes et de Rome, 3rd Ser., 3 vols (Paris, 1901–61), i, docs 465, 1608;

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Relations with Byzantium

Since the failure of Latin attempts to recover Constantinople during the pontificate of Clement V, there had been a gradual process of reconciliation with the Byzantine emperors under John XXII. In 1327 initial negotiations were even undertaken over the possible union of the Greek and Latin Churches, and in 1332 Emperor Andronikos III agreed to contribute to the naval league being planned against the Turks, although in the end no Byzantine galleys took part.52 By the time of Benedict XII’s pontificate, Byzantium was widely considered by the crusading powers as a potential ally in the defence of the East from the Turks, or even for a campaign to liberate the Holy Land, but often doctrinal issues hampered any negotiations. As we have seen, Benedict XII showed a strong desire to combat false doctrine, often over the defence of the faith against the infidel. Thus his policy towards Byzantium had a profound influence on his ability or willingness to launch a crusading enterprise in the Eastern Mediterranean. In 1337 Andronikos III made overtures to the West by dispatching the Venetian ambassador, Stephen Dandolo, followed by the Calabrian monk Barlaam (in 1339), to the papal Curia to reopen discussions over Church union. Their mission was twofold: to convince the pope to hold a general council to discuss the Filioque question; and to secure aid for the recovery of the Byzantine provinces of Asia Minor which had been overrun by the Turks.53 The union negotiations are discussed in more detail in Irene Bueno’s chapter in this volume, but for now a brief summary will suffice.54 In short, Barlaam proposed that if the Western powers would agree to help the Christians of the East before union was implemented, then Greek minds would be won over, thus making Church union more palatable for the Greek people. He also offered another, less effective strategy in case the first Loenertz, ‘Athènes et Néopatras’, doc. 81. Clement VI announced that he was willing to suspend for three years the sentences of excommunication and interdict imposed on the Company if they agreed to contribute 100 infantry and 100 cavalry to Humbert’s force for three years: Lettres closes, patentes et curiales du pape Clément VI se rapportant à la France, i, doc. 2580, col. 183. Letters were written to the archbishops of Thebes and Patras ordering them to relax the ecclesiastical penalties if the Catalans fulfilled their share of the agreement: Diplomatari de l’Orient català, doc. 189. For more on negotiations with the Catalans during the crusade of Smyrna, see M. Carr, ‘Humbert of Viennois and the Crusade of Smyrna: a reconsideration’, Crusades 13 (2014), 237–51. 52 See J. Gill, Byzantium and the Papacy, 1198–1400 (New Brunswick NJ, 1979), 188–96; A.E. Laiou, Constantinople and the Latins: the foreign policy of Andronicus II, 1282–1328 (Cambridge MA, 1972), 284–326; Geanakoplos, ‘Byzantium and the Crusades’, 44–53. 53 Gill, Byzantium and the Papacy, 197; Geanakoplos, ‘Byzantium and the Crusades’, 54–5. 54 See Bueno, ‘Benedict XII and the partes Orientis’, 241–67.

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proposals were rejected: that the king of France send aid to Romania; that all Greek slaves owned by Latins be freed and the slave trade be stopped; and that the pope should grant the crusade indulgence to all those fighting for the Greeks, helping materially, or who died in war against the Turks. This might win the trust of the Greek people, who would then be more inclined to accept union even without a general council.55 Considering that Benedict was less than willing to support a campaign against the Turks or to preach indulgences to those fighting against them, it comes as little surprise that all of Barlaam’s proposals were declined by the pope and the cardinals at the Curia. With characteristic intractability, Benedict stated that Eastern prelates should be sent to the West for instruction, and not discussion, regardless of Byzantine problems with the Turks.56 This was obviously unacceptable to the Greeks, and the negotiations soon crumbled without any further progression. The papal decision was neither altogether surprising nor out of character for the period, but these negotiations were of particular consequence because they placed far more emphasis than in previous negotiations on the necessity for aid against the Turks as a prerequisite for Church union than in previous negotiations. In fact, every proposal was conditional on the immediate consignment of help for Andronikos III, and therefore overlooked the specific theological problems which had hindered negotiations in the past.57 But Benedict, unlike John XXII before him and Clement VI after him, showed a complete inflexibility towards the Greeks because of the theological differences that existed between the two churches. His refusal to implement a crusade against the Turks, despite the specific request of the Byzantines, was, after all, illustrative of where his priorities lay. 4.

Crusading Plans Instigated by the Latins of the East, 1341–1342

Up to this point, this discussion of Benedict XII’s eastern policy has confirmed a number of things. The pope was made aware of the Turkish 55 Barlaam’s proposals for union have been discussed ibid., 243–50; Gill, Byzantium and the Papacy, 196–9; Geanakoplos, ‘Byzantium and the Crusades’, 54–7; Giunta, ‘Benedetto XII e la crociata’, 230–3; M. Viller, ‘La question de l’union des églises entre grecs et latins depuis le concile de Lyon jusqu’à celui de Florence (1274–1438)’, RHE, 18 (1922), 20–60, at 20–6. The relevant documents are published in Annales Ecclesiastici, xxv, 159–64 (chs 19–32); Acta Benedicti XII, docs 42–3; Benoît XII (1334–1342): Lettres closes, patentes et curiales, ed. Daumet, docs 634–5. 56 Annales Ecclesiastici, xxv, 162–3 (ch. 28); Gill, Byzantium and the Papacy, 198; Geanakoplos, ‘Byzantium and the Crusades’, 56; Viller, ‘L’union des églises’, 23. 57 Giunta, ‘Benedetto XII e la crociata’, 231.

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attacks in Romania by the appeals of the Latins of the Aegean, together with the Armenians, Cypriots, and Byzantines; but on the rare occasions when he did take action, as in regard to Cilician Armenia in 1336, this took the form of a stop-gap measure and lacked any continuity. More often than not, aid was not forthcoming because this hinged on ensuring the orthodoxy of the Christians of the East, such as Armenians, Byzantines, and Catalans, even though some form of reconciliation had been made with the latter towards the end of Benedict’s pontif icate. The Turks, in particular, were low on his agenda. Benedict made no effort to support the anti-Turkish cause in the Aegean, and he possibly weakened it by granting indulgences to those fighting the Mamluks in Cilician Armenia, but not against the Turks elsewhere. Moreover, he refused to help fund a Venetian–Hospitaller fleet for the defence of the Aegean, and placed doctrinal issues ahead of any concerns over the Turks in his negotiations with the Byzantine emperor. The inactivity of the pope in regard to the Turkish threat led to the Latin states of the East adopting their own strategies independent of papal support and guidance. In 1337 Venice agreed peace treaties with the Turks of Aydin and Menteshe. These secured various trade privileges for the Republic’s merchants in the Aegean and crucially allowed them to gain a firmer foothold in the alum trade, previously dominated by the Genoese.58 Initially the treaties appear to have achieved some degree of security in the region, to the point where the Republic was confident enough to reject a Genoese proposal to form a union against the Turks in 1338.59 However, these treaties alone did not guarantee secure trade or the safeguarding of Venetian colonies in the Aegean, and within two years Turkish raids against Venetian lands had resumed. In April 1340, the situation was so severe that the Serenissima was forced to refuse a request from Edward III of England for a subsidy of galleys because the fear of a Turkish armada of 230 sails rendered it impossible to grant any naval assistance.60 A few months later the Republic considered arming galleys in Crete for the revival of a league against the Turks, although 58 Zachariadou, Trade and Crusade, 35–8. Carr, Merchant Crusaders, 126. 59 R. Lopez, Su e giù per la storia di Genova (Genoa, 1975), 89, n. 16; M. Balard, La Romanie génoise, XIIe–début du XVe siècle, 2 vols (Rome, 1978), ii, 778; Zachariadou, Trade and Crusade, 36. 60 Summaries in Calendar of State Papers and Manuscripts, Relating to English Affairs, Existing in the Archives and Collections of Venice, and in Other Libraries of Northern Italy: 1202–1509, ed. R. Brown et al., 40 vols (London, 1864–1947), i, doc. 25; I libri commemoriali della Republica di Venezia: regesti, ed. R. Predelli, Monumenti storici pubblicati dalla R. Deputazione Veneta di storia patria, 3, 4 vols (Venice, 1876–83), ii, doc. 489.

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for f inancial reasons this never materialized.61 By this time the size of the Turkish armadas had increased to such an extent that the Venetian government began to fear the permanent loss of its Eastern Mediterranean possessions. This is clearly evident in a decree of the Venetian Maggior Consiglio, from January 1341, which stated that the Turks were ‘threatening to come with an armada to the island of Crete’, which was the largest and most valuable of the Republic’s possessions overseas.62 Fortunately for Venice, other Latin rulers in the East were also eager to stem the incursions of the Turks, most notably Hugh of Cyprus who, despite being successful in protecting his kingdom, was nevertheless eager to secure papal support. In 1341, Hugh took the initiative of dispatching ambassadors to Rhodes and Venice in order to persuade them to join him in appealing to the pope. The ambassador whom Hugh chose was Lambertino Baldwin della Cecca, the bishop of Limassol, who presented to the doge of Venice, Bartolomeo Gradenigo, the following note: I, the aforementioned Lambert, should explain to your Magnificence my mission to the lord Pope Benedict XII […] which is in essence the following: [King Hugh] clearly explains to the lord pope the state of Christianity in overseas lands and the grave danger of Christianity itself, which has grown so much and intensified because of the power and wickedness of the Turks, who are destroying, looting, despoiling, and molesting all of the surrounding lands and the people living in them. Unless provision can be made for support by our lord pope and others of the faithful then all of these lands, which will soon be occupied by the Turks, will be destroyed and lost, and all of the Christians dwelling in these same lands will be killed. [The king] beseeches the lord pope so that he will make provision, in consideration of his duty, for suitable support concerning the aforesaid lands, especially since he may want to be involved in this both on his own part and as the head of the whole of Christendom.63 61 ‘Thespismata tês Benetikês gerousias: 1281–1385’, in Istorika krêtika eggrafa ekdidomena ek tou arheiou tês Benetias, ed. S.M. Theotokes, 2 vols (Athens, 1933–37), ii.i, 198–200 (bk. 19, docs 9–13); Duca di Candia: Quaternus consiliorum (1340–1350), ed. P. Ratti-Vidulich (Venice, 1976), 5 (doc. 2); Zachariadou, Trade and Crusade, 41. 62 ‘Apophaseis meizonos symvouliou Venetias, 1255–1669’, in Istorika krêtika, i.ii, 118–9 (doc. 14); summary in F. Thiriet, Délibérations des assemblées Vénitiennes concernant la Romanie: 1160–1363, 2 vols (Paris, 1966–1971), i, doc. 480 (full text in Appendix, 309). 63 ‘Ego Lambertinus supradictus deberem Vestre Magnif icencie ambaxiatam exponere, quam ipse mittit per me sanctissimo in Christo patri et domino nostro, domino Benedicto pape XII […] que ambaxiata in substantia talis est. Videlicet quod ipse significat domino pape statum christianitatis in partibus ultramarinis et ipsius christianitatis grave periculum in quo

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In addition, Lambertino informed the doge of Venice that another communication, unfortunately now lost, had been despatched to the master of the Hospitallers, who replied that he had already appealed to the pope and would continue to do so in order to expedite the matter. Finally, Lambert explained that if the doge and the master of the Hospitallers were to join their appeals to those of the king, then Benedict would be ‘more quickly and readily urged’ to offer support ‘on the entreaty of three than of one alone’. In November 1341, the Venetian Senate made a favourable reply to Hugh’s request: Because the illustrious lord king desires to foreknow our intention, we declare […] for our part, to offer and do to good effect that which will be right and appropriate in support of so holy an undertaking and service, as true faithful servants and guardians of the holy Christian faith and just as we have always been accustomed to do.64

Unfortunately, the appeal of King Hugh came too late and, in April 1342, Benedict XII died before any action could be taken. The pope’s death means that his response to Lambertino’s embassy is unknown, and it is even possible that the embassy never reached the Curia in time. However, Benedict was not unaware of the threat posed by the Turks. As Lambertino’s note shows, the Hospitallers had petitioned the pope for assistance in these years. Moreover, at this time Benedict had also written to the Duke of Naxos commending him for his courageous resistance against the ‘perfidious Turks’.65 est propter potentiam et maliciam Turchorum, que in tantum excrevit et ampliata est quod omnes partes circumvicinas et homines in eisdem habitantes dicti Turchi destruunt, vendunt, spoliant ac molestant; sicque nisi per dominum nostrum papam et alios fideles, quos dictum negocium tangit ubicumque consistentes, de remedio provideatur, omnes dicte partes erunt destructe et perdite et in brevi per dictos Turchos occupande, et omnes Christiani destructi in eisdem partibus commorantes; supplicando dicto domino nostro pape, quatenus sibi placeat, super predictis de oportuno remedio intuitu pietatis providere, potissime cum ad ipsum ut ad totius christianitatis caput in huiusmodi spectet remedium adhibere.’ The letter is printed in full in M.L. de Mas Latrie, Histoire de l’île de Chypre sous le règne des princes de la maison de Lusignan, 3 vols (Paris, 1852–61), ii, 180–1; summary in I libri commemoriali, ii, doc. 563. For more on Lambertino, see Edbury, The Kingdom of Cyprus, 158 and references. 64 ‘Et quia illustris dominus rex optat nostram intencionem pernoscere, declaramus eam […] ponere et facere cum affectu pro parte nostra id quod convenit et opportunum fuerit in auxiliam tam sancti operis, sicut veri fideles et cellatores sancte fidei Christiane et sicut semper sumus facere consueti’; full text in G. Fedalto, La Chiesa latina in Oriente, 3 vols (Verona, 1973–8), iii, 51; partial text in Mas Latrie, Histoire de l’île de Chypre, ii, 181. Also see Edbury, The Kingdom of Cyprus, 158; Hill, A History of Cyprus, ii, 299; Carr, Merchant Crusaders, 103. 65 Reg. Vat. 129, fol. 257, doc. 374; summary in BXII: Communes, ii, doc. 8918 (19 May 1341).

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But, despite his awareness of the Turkish threat, Benedict made no indication that he would alter his eastern policy in accordance. All that we can be sure about is that the unwillingness of the pope to contribute to the defence of Latin lands in the Eastern Mediterranean had ultimately resulted in the Cypriot king taking the initiative himself by appealing to the other Latin powers in the region. In a sense, this was not dissimilar to the formation of the naval league of 1333–1334 where Venice negotiated with the other Christian powers before John XXII finally committed to the expedition. However, apart from the Venetian-led naval league, John had offered support to other Latin lords against the Turks in earlier years.66 Benedict, in contrast, implemented no alternative strategy for combating them in the Aegean region or elsewhere. The nearest he came to action was to offer aid to Cilician Armenia and to support to some of the Frankish lords against the Catalans, neither of which was made on the grounds of defending the region from Turkish attack. It will never be known if Benedict planned to send aid to the East in response to Cypriot, Venetian, and Hospitaller requests, but if he had, this would have been a departure from his previous policies. It was not until a new pope, Clement VI, was elected at Avignon in May 1342 that the plans of Hugh of Cyprus were realized. Clement quickly instigated the formation of a new naval league in the Aegean, which would eventually form the first wave of the crusade of Smyrna. In terms of papal involvement, level of response, and achievement, this was by far the most successful and enthusiastically received crusade of the period.

Crusading in Iberia and North-Eastern Europe Although Benedict XII did little to encourage a crusade to the East, he offered signif icant support to the Catholic rulers in Iberia and northeastern Europe in their fight against the enemies of the faith. In the Western Mediterranean during the 1330s, the Marinid sultan at Fez, Abu al-Hasan, had built up considerable forces for an invasion of Iberia. This had in turn forced the Christian rulers across the strait to unite against the inevitable attack and to seek support from the papal Curia. In 1339 the Castilians won a victory over a Marinid force in which the son of Abu al-Hasan was killed, but in the following year a combined Castilian–Aragonese fleet was heavily defeated off Gibraltar. This ensured that the Marinids had control of the 66 See n. 28 above for examples of the indulgences John XXII granted in the 1320s.

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strait, over which they crossed in June 1340 to besiege Castilian-held Tarifa with an army numbering around 67,000 men. In October, Alfonso XI of Castile and Alfonso IV of Portugal, along with Aragonese and Portuguese naval support, marched to relieve Tarifa with a much smaller force of 21,000 men. On 30 October, the outnumbered Christian army defeated the Marinids on the bank of the Salado River, marking the greatest victory in the reconquest since Las Navas de Tolosa in 1212. After this, Alfonso marched on Moorish Algeciras, which he besieged for two years until its fall in 1344.67 In the early years of his pontif icate, Benedict continued the policies of John XXII in regard to Iberia, as he had also done when dealing with the Holy Land crusade of Philip of France and the naval league in the Aegean. His f irst step was to maintain f inancial support provided by the Church in the region, by renewing a tenth to Alfonso XI in 1335.68 However, in distinction to the East where the crusading projects had been quickly abandoned, Benedict continued to offer aid for the fight against the Marinids. In 1340, he granted a renewed tenth to Alfonso XI, followed by a similar concession to Alfonso IV of Portugal a year later.69 At this time the pope even went as far as to order the preaching of a crusade in Castile, León, Aragon, Navarre, and Majorca, with indulgences granted to those who would serve for one year or make an equivalent f inancial contribution. In addition, Benedict decreed that processions, public sermons, and prayers be made so as to ensure the unity of the Christian armies against the enemies of the faith, and even sent a crusading banner to Alfonso.70 There is no doubt that the urgency of the situation triggered by the Marinid invasion helped to unify the Iberian rulers and expedite negotiations with the pope, but, unlike in the East where Christian kingdoms were similarly threatened by the Turks and Mamluks, Benedict’s measures in Iberia seem to have had more of an impact. According to the account provided by Giovanni Villani, the support of the Church and papacy was 67 Villani, iii, 239 (book 12, ch. 120), 372–3 (book 13, ch. 31); O’Callaghan, The Gibraltar Crusade, 162–217; A. Huici Miranda, Las grandes batallas de la reconquista durante las invasiones africanas (Madrid, 1956; repr. Granada, 2000), 331–87; C.J. Bishko, ‘The Spanish and Portuguese Reconquest, 1095–1492’, in History of the Crusades, iii, 396–456, at 437–8. 68 BXII: Communes, i, 2110; Housley, Avignon Papacy, 60. 69 BXII: Communes, ii, 9139–42; Housley, Avignon Papacy, 60; O’Callaghan, The Gibraltar Crusade, 166–8. 70 BXII: Communes, i, 2862–7; ii, 8355, 9139–42; O’Callaghan, The Gibraltar Crusade, 173–4; Housley, Avignon Papacy, 60–1.

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crucial during the siege of Algeciras, especially the tithes granted to the king, which had enabled him to pay for twenty Genoese galleys to patrol the straits, and the indulgences, which resulted in many knights from France, Germany, England, and Languedoc travelling to Iberia to serve in the Christian army for periods of up to six months.71 In north-eastern Europe too, Benedict’s policies were a far cry from those he implemented in regard to the Christians of Romania. In 1339 he granted indulgences in articulo mortis for six years to King Charles-Robert of Hungary for warfare against the ‘schismatic’ Lithuanians and ‘infidel’ Tartars on his northern frontier, and a year later he decreed the preaching of a crusade in Poland, Hungary, and Bohemia in aid of King Casimir of Poland, once more against the ‘perf idious Tartars’ who were ‘rabidly’ attacking the Christians of those regions. For this crusade, the participants were to receive plenary indulgences, equal to those issued in aid of the Holy Land, for service of one year or for funding a suitable fighter to go in their place.72 All three kingdoms were directly threatened by the Tartars at this time, so the response to Benedict’s concessions was presumably positive, although specific details are hard to determine. Nevertheless, we can presume that many were willing to join this crusade, which may explain why Casimir was able to inflict a crushing defeat against the Tartars in January 1341.73 The actions of the pope in regard to Iberia and north-eastern Europe suggest that, when the conditions were right, the papacy was willing to contribute financial aid and crusader privileges in an attempt to strengthen the position of the Catholics in these regions. The situation in Iberia was certainly aided by the immediacy of the threat and the fact that the Christian rulers had already united and organized themselves against the Marinids. Similarly in Poland and Hungary, the pope was able to grant privileges to kings for the defence of their realms. This was in contrast to the Eastern Mediterranean, where the struggles against the Turks were not centred 71 The pope at the time of the fall of Algeciras was Clement VI, but it can be assumed that Villani’s remarks also refer to Benedict XII, especially considering that he was pope when Alfonso began planning for the siege in 1341–42, and even appealed to the Genoese for aid on behalf of the king. Villani, iii, 372–3 (book 13, ch. 31). Also see Gran crónica de Alfonso XI, ed. D. Catalán, Fuentes Cronísticas de la Historia de España, 4, 2 vols (Madrid, 1976), ii, 359–77; Housley, Avignon Papacy, 61; O’Callaghan, The Gibraltar Crusade, 173. 72 Vetera monumenta historica Hungariam sacram illustrantia, ed. A. Theiner, 2 vols (Rome, 1859–60), i, docs 945 (17 January 1339), 958–9 (1 August 1340); Housley, Avignon Papacy, 67–8, 71. 73 P.W. Knoll, The Rise of the Polish Monarchy: Piast Poland in East Central Europe, 1320–1370 (Chicago, 1972), 132–3; Housley, Avignon Papacy, 68.

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on one strong Catholic ruler and were often tied up in negotiations with Christian groups who were not always in full communion with the Church of Rome.

Conclusions Benedict XII’s crusading policy was dictated by events in Europe and a preoccupation with internal Church reform, both of which hindered plans for a crusade to the Eastern Mediterranean. Yet the pope was still able to offer significant spiritual and financial support to the rulers of Iberia and Eastern Europe, possibly because they had already organized themselves against their respective enemies and papal support for them did not depend on any complicated political wrangling or, more importantly, doctrinal issues. In regard to a crusade to the Eastern Mediterranean, the escalation of the conflict between England and France effectively ended the plans that Benedict had inherited from John XXII, even though the pope was still able to implement some form of a policy in regard to the other Christians in Romania. However, on these occasions the enforcement of orthodoxy took precedence and the pope rarely, if ever, answered favourably to the appeals of the Latins for aid against the Turks. For example, he was receptive to appeals from Armenia against the Mamluks and from Walter of Brienne against the Catalans, but he refused to support a Venetian and Hospitaller league in the Aegean, or to form a union with the Byzantine emperor for a united front against the Turks. Because the pontificate of Benedict marked a growing separation between the priorities of the Curia and those of the Latins in the East, it can be seen as a crucial stepping-stone in the formation of a new crusade strategy. This was one aimed at defending Christian territories from the Turks. It was planned and instigated by the Latin powers of the Eastern Mediterranean, with limited initiative and organization from the papacy and the rulers of Western Europe. The reasons for Benedict’s attitude are numerous and multi-faceted. The worsening of the Anglo-French war, financial constraints, and the conflicts within Europe all undoubtedly diverted the pope’s focus from the East, although in Iberia and Eastern Europe papal support was more forthcoming. Therefore, it is tempting, as many have argued, to attribute Benedict’s lack of interest in a Levantine crusade to his character. To quote Norman Housley, Benedict ‘was far more interested in reforming the regular

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Church and suppressing heterodoxy than in launching crusades’.74 Considering that only a year after the pope’s death his successor was able to launch a successful crusade against the Turks in more trying circumstances, then the personal character of Benedict XII may well have been the overriding factor. Mike Carr, University of Edinburgh

74 Housley, Avignon Papacy, 27.

9. Benedict XII and the partes Orientis1 Irene Bueno Abstract This chapter analyses Benedict XII’s Oriental policies from the perspective of diplomatic, religious, and intellectual history. By taking into account papal correspondences and theological treatises, it discusses how the defence and expansion of Roman orthodoxy was put into practice by the head of the Roman Church in several regions. The geographical scope of this examination ranges from the Eastern Mediterranean to the Far East, offering a comparative analysis of Benedict’s letters concerning the Greeks, the Armenians, and the Mongols – thereby shedding light on the pope’s different attitudes towards non-Catholic, non-properly Catholic, and non-Christian peoples. Keywords: Eastern Churches, Armenia, Byzantium, Mongols, Avignon papacy, Benedict XII

During the fourteenth century various religious, political, and military factors came into play that would shape the major lines of intervention of the Apostolic See in the Near and Far East. In the first instance, the issue of the separation between the Latin and Eastern Churches remained unresolved after the substantial failure of the Second Council of Lyon (1274). Not only were the Oriental Churches a long way from accepting the primacy of the pope, but the Il-Khanid conversion to Islam had further thwarted any aspiration to widen the frontiers of Latin Christendom. And while the Armenians had formally accepted submission to the Roman Church, the Avignon popes continued to suspect, and investigate, unorthodoxy in 1 The support of the European Commission under the Marie Curie Intra-European Fellowship Programme and of the Italian Ministry for University and Research under the Project SIR ‘POPLAMA’ is gratefully acknowledged.

Bueno, Irene (ed.), Pope Benedict XII (1334–1342). The Guardian of Orthodoxy. Amsterdam University Press, 2018 doi: 10.5117/9789462986770_ch09

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Armenian doctrine and religious practices.2 The second fundamental factor affecting papal Eastern policies in the fourteenth century was the rising power of the Mamluk sultanate and the Anatolian Turkish principalities. Their military expansion in the Eastern Mediterranean region was the reason for the frequent appeals of Christian rulers for the assistance and support of the Holy See. Moreover, the gravity of the Turkish invasions in the Levant was in part responsible for directing the crusading activity towards Romania, delaying the magnum passagium against the Mamluks in the Holy Land.3 However, the activities of the Holy See in the partes Orientis were not only conditioned by exogenous factors. Warfare between various Western sovereigns, as well as the economic situation of European bankers, affected the pope’s capacity for intervention in the East in a significant way, preventing the realization of the crusading project. As Benedict XII openly remarked, the passagium transmarinum could not take place without first restoring peace among the Christian rulers. Such harmony was, however, at that point, far from likely considering the numerous open and latent conflicts traversing Europe in the first decades of the fourteenth century. 4 These political and religious factors were all intertwined, and together they played a fundamental role in the shaping of East–West relations during the time of the Avignon papacy. When the Cistercian Jacques Fournier was elected head of the Roman Church, papal capability to intervene in the Latin and Far East seemed to be frozen in a state of immobility. Not only did Church union negotiations fail to develop in any helpful direction, but international tensions and emerging conflicts in the Latin West also prevented the papacy and the Western sovereigns from undertaking an effective engagement in 2 For an overview of the relations between the Latin and the Eastern Churches in the fourteenth century, see Histoire du christianisme des origines à nos jours, 14 vols (Paris, 1990–2000), iv, Un temps d’épreuves (1274–1449), 821–39; W. de Vries, ‘Die Päpste von Avignon un der christliche Osten’, Orientalia christiana periodica, 30 (1964), 85–128; J. Gill, Byzantium and the Papacy, 1198–1400 (New Brunswick NJ, 1979), 233–43. 3 On crusading activity against the Mamluks and the Turks in the first half of the fourteenth century, see K. Setton, The Papacy and the Levant (1204–1571), 4 vols (Philadelphia, 1914–1995), i, 177–94; N. Housley, The Avignon Papacy and the Crusades, 1305–1378 (Oxford, 1986), 9–49; N. Housley, The Later Crusades 1274–1580: from Lyons to Alcazar (Oxford, 1992), 25–39, 53–65; C.J. Tyerman, ‘New Wine in Old Skins? The crusade and the Eastern Mediterranean in the Later Middle Ages’, in Byzantines, Latins and Turks in the Eastern Mediterranean World after 1150, ed. C. Holmes and J. Harris (Oxford, 2012), 265–89; M. Carr, Merchant Crusaders in the Aegean, 1291–1352 (Woodbridge, 2015). 4 E. Déprez, Les préliminaires de la guerre de cent ans: la papauté, la France et l’Angleterre (1328–1342) (Paris, 1902), 83–169, especially 123–4; see also Housley, The Avignon Papacy, 194–8.

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the Eastern Mediterranean. Nevertheless, the diplomatic machinery of the papal court at Avignon never ceased to work: despite having abandoned his crusading plans, Benedict XII was still determined to address, and to make headway with, his religious project in the East. Accordingly, he attempted to protect and extend the boundaries of Latin Christendom through those means at his disposal offered by his religious authority: negotiations over Church union, doctrinal supervision, and proselytism. The crusading activities of Benedict XII are widely discussed in Mike Carr’s contribution in this volume.5 This chapter will concentrate on the religious and diplomatic factors governing Benedict’s interventions in the Near and Far East, especially taking into consideration his confrontation with the Eastern Churches and his effort to disseminate the Gospel in non-Christian territories. In particular, the analysis will focus on the diplomatic contacts and religious discussions entertained with the three best-documented Eastern interlocutors of the Holy See, each of which occupied a different position with respect to the Roman Church: the Greeks, the Armenians, and the Mongols. A separate analysis of Benedict’s religious policies in the Levantine region will lead to a comparative evaluation of the different strategies adopted by the Holy See when dealing with nonCatholic, non-properly Catholic, and non-Christian populations during the fourteenth century. Such a study seeks to contribute to our understanding of the cultural reception of the Orient within Avignon. By broadening the scope of the analysis to include Benedict’s policies in the East, this chapter will throw light on the way Western reactions to diverse Eastern identities were formed and shaped at the time of the Avignon papacy. As will be shown, the brief pontificate of Benedict XII testifies in a significant way to the various responses produced by the Holy See when confronting different Christian and ‘potentially’ Christian communities from the Middle to the Far East.

Searching for an Impossible Reconciliation with the Greeks When Jacques Fournier was elected pope, the project of launching a new crusade was still regarded with great expectation both in the West and in the East. However, such hopes were soon dashed by Benedict’s decision to release the king of France, Philip VI, from his crusading vow – and to do so as early as March 1336.6 The reasons for this resolution, as demonstrated 5 See M. Carr, ‘Benedict XII and the Crusades’, Chapter 8 in this volume, 217–40. 6 BXII: Pays autres, 199, no. 786.

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by Carr in his chapter, were anchored both to the personal attitude and reformation priorities of Benedict XII, and to related financial and political causes, such as the crisis experienced by the Italian banking houses and the numerous conflicts disrupting peace across Europe.7 The temporary abandonment of a military commitment in the Eastern Mediterranean was a particular disappointment for the East Christian sovereigns: indeed, a joint Christian alliance was their only hope of saving their own territories from collapse following the incursions and attacks of the infidels. It was primarily with the intention of securing Western military assistance against the Turks that the emperor of Byzantium, Andronikos III (1328–1341), dispatched the Venetian legate Stephen Dandolo to Avignon in 1337.8 The emperor and the pontiff, however, did not share the same views about the eventuality of Western assistance to the East Christians. One of the main obstacles barring a joint struggle against the expansion of the Turkish principalities was in fact the schism that, in spite of recent attempts to reach union, continued to divide the Latin and the Greek Churches. The substantial failure of the agreements reached during the Second Council of Lyon in 1274 brought about further religious and political divisions between the two Churches. Emperor Andronikos II (1282–1328), who rejected the profession of the Catholic faith proclaimed by his father, Michael VIII, later saw the necessity of establishing new diplomatic contacts with the Latin world, being keenly aware of the opportunity to reduce the distance that continued to separate the two Churches. During the latter years of his reign he proved more open to religious reconciliation with the West. His abdication in 1328 did not interrupt unionist projects, which continued under the reign of Andronikos III. The latter’s marriage to the Catholic Anna of Savoy was regarded by the pope as a further step in the right direction for Church union. However, religious reconciliation between East and West was far from a realistic goal, and each new diplomatic encounter that occurred during the 1330s resulted in plain failure.9 It was already clear during the 1337 meeting between Stephen Dandolo and Benedict XII in Avignon that the objectives of the Byzantine Crown and the Holy See remained, substantially, at odds. Whereas the Venetian 7 Carr, ‘Benedict XII’, 217–40. See also Bueno, Defining Heresy, 296–331. 8 BXII: Pays autres, 338–9, no. 1199; Acta Benedicti XII, 28–9, no. 15. 9 For the relations between the Latin and the Greek Church after the Second Council of Lyon, see Gill, Byzantium and the Papacy, 161–243; J.M. Hussey, The Orthodox Church in the Byzantine Empire (Oxford, 1986), 220–60; H. Chadwick, East and West: the making of a rift in the Church (Oxford, 2003), 250–73; M. Viller, ‘La question de l’union des églises entre grecs et latins depuis le concile de Lyon jusqu’à celui de Florence (1274–1438)’, RHE, 18 (1922), 20–60.

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diplomat was primarily concerned with the business of arranging military aid, Benedict regarded East–West negotiations as a way to force the Greeks to accept Roman obedience. In this context, Benedict accepted Dandolo’s proposal to hold a conference between the imperial and papal legates in Naples, aimed at defining the ways of pursuing Church union. The pope, however, soon made clear what the margins of dialogue would be within such a conference: according to Benedict, the meeting would be nothing more than an occasion for the Greeks to recognize and abandon their own errors. In his view, terms such as reunio and reconciliatio had a sole and unique meaning: the conjunction and submission of the schismatics to the Roman Church. In the letters addressed to the count Aymon of Savoy and Robert of Sicily, Benedict XII did not hide the fact that he would have preferred to sign the Church union treaty in Avignon rather than elsewhere: in this location, the agreement would have been reached ‘in a better, faster, more useful and firm way’ (melius, celerius, utilius et solidius). The pope soon also drew the emperor’s wife, Anna of Savoy, into the diplomatic project to negotiate Church union. Benedict recommended that the empress commit herself to the unionist cause, reminding her of the Bible’s assurance that the ‘infidel husband will be saved by the faithful wife’ (1 Cor. 7: 14). Negotiations continued in 1339, during a second diplomatic encounter. On this occasion the Venetian legate was accompanied by the Calabrian Basilian monk Barlaam of Seminara, professor of theology in Constantinople. Renowned in the intellectual circles of the Byzantine capital for his culture and knowledge of Latin, Barlaam had already been involved in negotiations for Church union under the pontificate of John XXII: in 1333 he received two papal legates in Constantinople, and on that occasion he had delivered a learned defence of the Greek doctrine – while remaining open to the possibility of a union.10 However, the main task of the 1339 diplomatic encounter was different, and Emperor Andronikos III was clearly more interested in launching a crusade against the Turks than in reopening negotiations between the two Churches. Upon his arrival in Avignon, Barlaam eloquently expounded the 10 M. Jugie, ‘Barlaam de Seminara’, DHGE, vi, 817–34; idem, ‘Barlaam est-il né catholique?’, Echos d’Orient, 39 (1940–42), 100–25; Gill, Byzantium and the Papacy, 196–9; J. Meyendorff, ‘Un mauvais théologien de l’unité au XIVe siècle: Barlaam le calabrais’, in 1054–1954. L’Église et les Églises: neuf siècles de douloureuse séparation entre l’Orient et l’Occident, 2 vols (Chevetogne, 1954–55), ii, 47–64; K. Walsh, A Fourteenth-Century Scholar and Primate: Richard Fitzralph in Oxford, Avignon and Armagh (Oxford, 1981), 152–8; T. Kolbaba, ‘Barlaam the Calabrian: three treatises on papal primacy’, Revue des études byzantines, 53 (1995), 41–115; Barlaam calabro: l’uomo, l’opera, il pensiero, ed. A. Fyrigos (Rome, 2001).

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Greeks’ point of view to the pope and the cardinals.11 As he emphasized to the Latin prelates, the emperor was forced to organize the mission covertly as he did not dare reveal to his subjects that discussions about Church union were (once again) taking place, without first receiving military aid from the pope.12 The meeting resulted in a barbed negotiation in which each side attempted to shift the balance, either towards union or crusade. That these two objectives were closely intertwined was made clear by both the exposition of the legates and Benedict’s reply. According to Barlaam, the union of the two Churches could be obtained via two main paths: either by force (violenter) or voluntarily (voluntarie). In order to reach a more durable solution, he claimed that the second option was preferable, especially if accompanied by two further necessary conditions: agreement among the learned men (sapientes) and the persuasion of the common people (plebs). He argued that the latter group would be the more difficult to convince, as he believed only learned men were inclined to the search for truth, whereas the uneducated were easily subject to error. The awareness of these difficulties did not prevent Barlaam from suggesting a positive solution, which could have eventually persuaded both the plebs and the sapientes: forming a new general council, where the long-lasting controversy could come to an end through peaceful and sincere dialogue between the two parties. According to the monk, no such dialogue had taken place during the Second Council of Lyon, as a result of the absence of the delegates of the four Oriental patriarchates and of the populus, and he claimed that the outcome of this religious assembly had been a solution obtained by force rather than voluntarily.13 Barlaam concluded his Avignonese oration by explaining in detail the link between Church union and crusade. The principal objective of the Byzantine delegates was actually to obtain military support from the king of France in order to recover from the Turks four cities formerly subject to Byzantium. Accordingly, the monk tried to persuade Benedict to authorize this military action, pointing out that it would certainly make the Greeks more likely to favour union. He claimed this was because, on the one hand, men are naturally inclined to submit themselves to their benefactors; and, on the other hand, because the emperor would not 11 Acta Benedicti XII, 85–97, no. 43. See also Benedict’s letters to the kings of France and Naples about the meeting with the Greek ambassadors: Acta Benedicti XII, 80–4, no. 42; BXII: France, 383, no. 633. 12 Acta Benedicti XII, 90, no. 43. 13 Ibid., 88; see also A. Fyrigos, ‘Quando Barlaam Calabro conobbe il Concilio di Lione II (1274)?’, Rivista di studi bizantini e neoellenici, 17–19 (1980–82), 247–65.

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participate in a religious council without first solving the problem of the war against the Turks. Barlaam’s claims were, however, far removed from those of Benedict XII. The pope was fairly confident that if the Greeks managed to consolidate their temporal power as a result of Western support before reaching union, they would surely later betray their former protectors rather than accept submission to the Roman Church.14 In addition to the previous arguments, Barlaam also focused on military and strategic considerations. He observed that not only were the Turks the common enemies of all Christians, as adversaries of the Holy Cross rather than of Byzantium alone, but also that it would be far more convenient for the Latins to fight side by side with the Greeks, who had experience of facing the Turks in warfare (not to mention the advantage for the Latins of fighting only against the Turks rather than against both the Turks and the Greeks). That a religious reconciliation was still a long way off, and an East–West alliance was more likely to be obtained on strategic rather than doctrinal grounds, is clearly illustrated by Barlaam’s bitter, but realistic, observation: ‘Without first neutralizing the Greeks’ hatred, no one will ever be able to teach them your union.’15 Based on these considerations, the monk concluded his oration by voicing three requests to Benedict XII, all of which pertained to military support: first, to allow the king of France to provide military aid in the East; secondly, to grant plenary indulgences to those who died while fighting against the Turks; and, last, to liberate the Greek prisoners who had been sold as slaves by the Latins. It was only after having satisfied these demands, fundamental to support the Greeks in their struggle against the Turks, that it would be possible to begin, once again, a religious dialogue. Only then, according to Barlaam, could the pope send Latin theologians to Constantinople to instruct the Greeks and secure Church union – even without opening a new council. In short, at the core of Barlaam’s oration to the pope was the claim that only after, and not before, the mobilization of Westerners against the Turks would the Greeks be inclined to submit to the Roman Church.16 This version of events did not, however, persuade Benedict XII. In the first place, the pope firmly refused the idea of summoning a new general council, claiming that the previous councils of Ephesus, Toledo, and Lyon had already sufficiently defined the Filioque doctrine. There was consequently 14 Acta Benedicti XII, 89, no. 43. 15 Ibid., 89–91. 16 Ibid., 92–3.

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no room for compromise on this matter: once the truth was defined, he would never let it be flanked by error. Instead of a new general assembly, Benedict suggested that a number of Greek theologians, appointed by a local council, would meet the theologians appointed by the Apostolic See in the West: on this occasion, the latter would teach and instruct the former on Catholic doctrine. The proposal of unidirectional teaching, rather than of mutual confrontation, advanced by Benedict XII certainly did not meet Barlaam’s expectations. In his view, the general council represented, even for the Latins, the most desirable path towards union: within this assembly, the Catholics would find the ideal environment in which to persuade their interlocutors, in the same way as in the past the Church fathers engaged in fruitful common discussions in order to combat heresy. On the contrary, the refusal to engage in new confrontations would have certainly caused great mistrust of the Latins among the Greeks.17 Lying at the heart of the 1339 encounter between Benedict XII and Barlaam were strategic and methodological, rather than theological, matters. When discussing the schism between the Latin and Greek Churches, the two sides did not touch upon any dogmatic and ecclesiological issues, but limited themselves to debating the possible paths towards reconciliation. For the monk, there were two possible ways of ending the schism: either through the organization of a new general council, characterized by real confrontation and doctrinal examination; or the coexistence of two different religious outlooks, under one single spiritual authority. As we have seen, however, none of these routes corresponded to that proposed by the pope. When Barlaam and Dandolo left Avignon, at the beginning of September, they must have been aware that their diplomatic mission had failed. Not only did the Holy See refuse to sanction any military support prior to the acceptance of Roman obedience, but also the division between the two Churches had not changed in any way. On both matters, Benedict had adopted an inflexible position that prevented any actual confrontation. In his view, all unionist perspectives were limited to the eventuality that the Greeks first accepted papal primacy and submission to the Roman Church. Moreover, the pope refused to consider Church union as negotiable with military support. Unlike Byzantium, whose frontiers were caught in the grip of the Turks, Avignon was in a position of strength, which allowed it to make the final decision. Of course, Benedict took military and political factors into consideration; but rather than supporting the defence of the Christian dominions in the Eastern Mediterranean, he preferred to refuse military 17 Ibid., 94–5.

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aid, fearing that the political reinforcement of Byzantium could jeopardize unionist opportunities. The pope used the insecurity of the Byzantine frontiers in order to elicit reconciliation – albeit with an understanding of reconciliation as unconditional submission to the Holy See. The biographies of Benedict XII and Barlaam would cross paths once more a few years later. After the death of Andronikos III, the quarrel with Gregory Palamas culminated in Barlaam’s condemnation by the patriarchal synod of 1341. Barlaam then left Constantinople and travelled on to Calabria, Naples, and, eventually, to Avignon. His name appears in the 1342 records of the Apostolic Chamber, where he is mentioned as a Greek teacher at the papal Curia.18 In the same year Benedict died and Barlaam eventually professed allegiance to the Catholic Church. In 1346 he was charged with a new embassy in Constantinople, on which occasion he brought forward the cause of union acting as papal legate. The predominance in Constantinople of the firmly anti-unionist hesychastic faction, however, caused the failure of Barlaam’s mission and saw his return to Avignon in 1347, where he died the following year.19 Barlaam’s theological writings testify to his unprecedented itinerary, traversing the frontiers of the Eastern and Western Churches in both directions, taking part in doctrinal polemics, and seeking to repair the schism. He was the author of twenty-one pamphlets against the Latins, focusing in particular on the Filioque and papal primacy. After his profession of Catholic faith, he revised his former positions: in two letters, Ad amicos suos in Graecia constitutos, and in three other pamphlets he argued in favour of papal primacy and the procession of the Holy Spirit from the Father and the Son, denouncing those who refused subjection to the Roman Church to be heretics and schismatics.20 For an unforeseen circumstance, the personal conversion of Barlaam and his eventual acceptance of the Latin creed seemed to satisfy the requests expressed by Benedict XII during their first encounter in Avignon. As we have seen, on that occasion the imperial legates primarily sought military aid from the West, but their appeal was not independent of the Church union negotiations. On these matters, the two sides held opposite views regarding, on the one hand, the priority of military aid or religious reconciliation and, 18 Schäfer, Ausgaben, ii, 157 and 198. 19 A. Papadakis, The Christian East and the Rise of the Papacy: the Church 1071–1453 AD (Crestwood NY, 1994), 275–319; Gill, Byzantium and the Papacy, 200–1; Jugie, ‘Barlaam de Seminara’, 827–9. 20 Barlaam of Seminara: opere contro i Latini, ed. A. Fyrigos, 2 vols (Vatican City, 1998); Kolbaba, ‘Barlaam the Calabrian’; see also Jugie, ‘Barlaam de Seminara’, 828–9; A. Fyrigos, ‘Considerazioni sulle Opere contro i Latini di Barlaam Calabro’, in Barlaam Calabro, ed. Fyrigos, 119–40.

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on the other hand, the opportunity to open a new council. Within such an impossible search for compromise, the solution put forward by the Holy See was the unconditional acceptance of Roman obedience.

Benedict and the Armenians As shown thus far, the state of emergency caused by the Turkish attacks along the frontiers of Byzantium brought the request for military aid to the fore during the Church union negotiations between the Latins and the Greeks. Benedict XII did not abandon his conviction that ecclesiastical reconciliation should be settled prior to the concession of military assistance to the empire. Taking the outcome of the Second Council of Lyon for granted, the pope was firm in his refusal to engage in any new doctrinal disputation with the Greeks and limited contact to diplomatic encounters. This, however, was not the sole strategy adopted by the Apostolic See with respect to the Eastern Christians. Facing different interlocutors, the pope offered different arguments that involved, to varying degrees, the issues of military cooperation and religious confrontation. Cilician Armenia, which had formally recognized Roman authority, occupied a rather different position in the East–West interaction. As a result of the formal affiliation of the Armenian Church to the Holy See – regarded by the papal Curia as actual submission to Rome – the papacy adopted peculiar strategies with the Armenian political and religious elite. Even if the results of Benedict’s diplomacy proved as poor as in Byzantium, they testify to a religious and political programme which was quite singular, and which would not (and could not) be the same as that adopted towards the empire. Religious unity between Rome and the Armenian Church was f irst established at the time of the formation of the Cilician kingdom (1198). It was later confirmed by King Hethoum II in 1288, and again by the Armenian councils of Sis (1307) and Adana (1316), but this unity did not survive the eventual disintegration of the Cilician kingdom in 1375.21 As the most easterly 21 On the 1198 union, see P. Halfter, Das Papsttum und die Armenier im frühen und Hohen Mittelalter: von den ersten Kontakten bis zur Fixierung der Kirchenunion im Jahre 1198 (Cologne, 1996), 189–245, especially 221–32; and Z. Pogossian, ‘The Armenian Reaction to the Concept of the Primacy of the Roman Church in the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries’, in Frontiers in the Middle Ages, ed. O. Merisalo (Leuven, 2006), 259–90, at 289–90. On the relations between the papacy and the Armenian Church in the central and later Middle Ages, see, among others, F. Tournebize, Histoire politique et religieuse de l’Arménie (Paris, 1900), 235–400; B. Hamilton,

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Catholic outpost, this kingdom occupied a key strategic location for the Apostolic See during the fourteenth century, as it was close to the Holy Land and surrounded by Christian Orthodox and Muslim dominions. The strategic role played by Armenia Minor in the Middle East had become even more important since the late thirteenth century, when the fall of Acre introduced the idea that a parvum passagium was necessary in Cilicia before the general passage of the crusaders in the Holy Land.22 Yet, the Kingdom of Armenia was subject to increasing attacks during the fourteenth century, both by Mamluks and Turkish tribes.23 As in Byzantium, so in Cilicia the problem of territorial control was intimately tied to ongoing disputes over Church union. This relationship became particularly evident when the loss of support from the Mongols forced the Armenians to turn to the West in search of military assistance.24 In spite of the formal union between the Armenian and the Latin Church, the affiliation of the Armenians with Rome was a somewhat precarious achievement. Characterized by the endurance of doctrinal and liturgical peculiarities, during the fourteenth century the convergence with the Latin West was still evidently an unwelcome reality for a significant part of the Armenian clergy and believers. The Armenian clergy was thus divided into unionists and anti-unionists, with opposing views in relation to union and autocephaly.25 Since the Il-Khan was no longer inclined to act as a potential protector of the Armenians against the Islamic forces, the balance of alliances ‘The Armenian Church and the Papacy at the Time of the Crusades’, Eastern Churches Review, 10 (1978), 61–88; D. Bundy, ‘The Trajectory of Roman Catholic Influence in Cilician Armenia: an analysis of the Councils of Sis and Adana’, The Armenian Review, 45/3 (1992), 73–89; J. Richard, La papauté et les missions d’Orient au Moyen Âge (XIIIe–XVe siècles) (Rome, 1998), 195–226; G. Dédéyan, ed. Histoire du peuple (Toulouse, 2007), 348–56; P. Cowe, ‘The Role of Correspondence in Elucidating the Intensif ication of Latin-Armenian Ecclesiastical Interchange in the First Quarter of the Fourteenth Century’, Journal of the Society for Armenian Studies 13 (2003–2004), 47–68; C. Mutafian, L’Arménie du Levant, 2 vols (Paris, 2012), i, 570–87. 22 The project of a parvum passagium to Cilicia, prior to the general passage of the crusaders in the Holy Land, was supported by (among others) the Armenian Hayton of Korykos: Flos historiarum terrae Orientis, in Recueil des historiens des croisades: documents arméniens, 2 vols (Paris: 1869), ii, 340–63; see S. Schein, ‘Fideles Crucis’: the papacy, the West, and the recovery of the Holy Land, 1274–1314 (Oxford, 1991), 181–218. A. Leopold, How to Recover the Holy Land: the crusade proposals of the late thirteenth and early fourteenth century (Aldershot, 2000), 129–30. 23 C. Mutafian, Le royaume arménien de Cilicie, XIIe–XIVe siècle (Paris, 1993), 68–90; idem, L’Arménie du Levant, i, 187–224; Dédéyan, Histoire du peuple arménien, 336–48. 24 Mutafian, Le royaume arménien, 71–3; idem, L’Arménie du Levant, i, 176; B. Dashdondog, The Mongols and the Armenians, 1220–1335 (Leiden, 2011), 193–218. 25 Tournebize, Histoire politique et religieuse, 320–7.

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began to become oriented towards the West. The main outcome of this shift was the augmentation of the Latin missionary effort throughout the fourteenth century, rather than the active support against the Muslims. In particular, John XXII contributed to reinforce the penetration of Latin culture into the Armenian milieu.26 After the 1330s, the ‘Unitary Brothers’, a movement of unionist monks from the Lake Urmia region, endorsed an ambitious programme of Latinization based on the promotion of studies and the translation of Latin theological works and liturgical books into Armenian.27 The pontificate of Benedict XII offers significant witness to the close interaction of strategic and religious matters in fourteenth-century ArmenoLatin relations. The more urgent the Armenians’ appeal for Western assistance became, the more demanding the Holy See became with respect to doctrinal orthodoxy. Benedict XII received the first plea from the King of Armenia, Leo V (1320–1342), in the spring of 1335, when the king’s legate, Grigor Sargis, and his interpreter arrived in Avignon. The objective of their mission to the papal Curia was to denounce the brutal attacks inflicted upon the Armenians and to elicit Western intervention.28 Another royal delegate arrived during the same year in order to inform the pope about the massacres of the Christians of Cilicia: after the invasions of Egyptian soldiers, thousands of people, including women and children, were captured or slaughtered. Benedict recommended the ambassadors to the king of France, encouraging him to find a remedy to the violence inflicted upon the Armenians.29 From his side, the pope limited himself to granting spiritual privileges to a number of Armenian lords who engaged themselves, as he emphasized, ‘for God and the Roman Church’.30 In addition, he encouraged Queen Constance to trust in God and be confident in the subsidies that the Holy See would dispatch to the Armenians ‘in the due time’.31 But what were these subsidies? In addition to his negotiations with Western sovereigns, Benedict devised various initiatives in favour of the Armenians: the collection of economic resources, sending basic food supplies, and the mobilization of the faithful. In April 1336 he organized the 26 Richard, La papauté, 200–25; Mutafian, L’Arménie du Levant, i, 573–6. 27 M.A. van de Oudenrijn, Linguae haicanae scriptores (Bern, 1960); Richard, La papauté, 217–25; Mutafian, L’Arménie du Levant, i, 577–80. 28 BXII: France, 33–4, no. 55. 29 Ibid., 69–70, no. 109. 30 Acta Benedicti XII, 7, no. 5; 14–6, nos 9–9b. 31 BXII: Pays autres, 212–3, no. 821.

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purchase and transportation of wheat from Apulia to Armenia.32 Moreover, in the following May he tried to involve the Christians of Sicily, Cyprus, Rhodes, Negroponte, and other lands in the Eastern Mediterranean, encouraging them to participate personally, or contribute economically, to the Armenian cause. His argument in favour of wider mobilization to support the Armenians seems to echo the crusading treatises of the early fourteenth century, such as the Flos historiarum terrae Orientis by Hayton of Korykos. Indeed, as Cilicia was a crucial route of transit towards the Holy Land, the conquest of this kingdom by the infidels would represent a terrible loss, preventing the possibility of ever retaking Jerusalem. In fact, the crusaders would be forever deprived of the possibility of resorting to the Armenian navy and resources in general.33 It is difficult to evaluate how relevant – if at all – was the recruitment that followed Benedict’s plea, but it certainly proved insufficient and ineffective. When a new embassy reached Avignon two years later, the pope was informed that the Mamluks were continually traversing the frontiers of the kingdom, storming towns and fortresses, and capturing prisoners. In the hope of preventing further destruction, the king had even welcomed the sultan’s envoy and made a solemn oath to interrupt any diplomatic contact with the Apostolic See. As soon as Benedict heard what had happened, he promptly released Leo V from this pledge, maintaining that as it had been made under duress it was not valid, while he granted the usual spiritual privileges to the Armenian aristocracy.34 It is evident that the measures taken by the Apostolic See during the 1330s brought little respite to a land beleaguered by continuous assaults, such as the Armenian Kingdom. Despite the few attempts to mobilize the Catholic sovereigns, material support for the ongoing war against the infidels, which was taking place in close proximity to the Holy Land, was very limited. As was already pointed out with respect to Constantinople, during the first half of the fourteenth century the Apostolic see was paralysed by international enmities that prevented any possible intervention in the East. As a result, there is no available or surviving testimony regarding the recruitment of soldiers or the dispatch of resources in the Cilician region. Instead, it was within the doctrinal sphere that the papacy took the situation overseas into serious consideration. Despite his lack of initiative 32 BXII: France, 101–2, no. 152; 117–8, no. 176; 101, no. 151. 33 Ibid., 115–7, 175; Acta Benedicti XII, 16–8, no. 10; Hayton of Korykos, Flos historiarum, ii, 340–63. 34 BXII: Pays autres, ii, 88, no. 6161; Acta Benedicti XII, 40–1, no. 21.

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in actually providing material support, Benedict XII did not abandon his control over the orthodoxy of the Armenian Church. This was the only arena over which the Curia of the Cistercian pope, incapable of setting in motion an effective political and military programme in the Eastern Mediterranean, could still attempt to exercise any authority or control. The papacy had already demonstrated its concern for the Armenian Church at the time of John XXII.35 But it was during Benedict’s pontificate, in particular, that Armenian doctrine and liturgy began to be regarded with increasing suspicion in Avignon, eliciting major theological debates among members of the papal Curia. At sometime between 1340 and 1341, Benedict XII came into possession of an accusatory booklet containing a list of 117 errors against the Sacred Scriptures, the general councils, and the doctrine of the Roman Church, which the author(s) claimed to be widespread both in Greater and Cilician Armenia.36 Nerses Balientz, who had been in Avignon since 1338, is considered to be the main author of the list. This unionist bishop, who was said to have been excommunicated and imprisoned by the Catholikos Jakob II, fled Armenia and took refuge in the papal citadel, where he claimed to be the bishop of Manazguerd.37 This is, at least, what we learn from Daniel of Tabriz, a Franciscan adversary of Nerses who arrived in Avignon as legate of the Armenian king in 1341, and upon papal request examined the booklet, refuting each of the articles listed.38 What took place in Avignon after Benedict received the accusatory pamphlet was essentially an investigation. The pope decided to ascertain the reliability of the booklet by following the canonical inquisitorial procedures. Accordingly, Latin and Armenian witnesses travelled to Avignon to make statements, bringing with them the principal texts commonly used in Greater and Cilician Armenia.39 Among them, a profession of faith of the 35 See Acta Benedicti XII, 119, no. 57; Acta Ioannis XXII (1317–1334), ed. A. Tăutu (Vatican City, 1952), 34–41, no. 20. 36 Vatican City, ASV, Reg. Vat. 62, fols 110r–120r; Acta Benedicti XII, 119–55; F. Tournebize, ‘Les cent dix-sept accusations présentées à Benoît XII contre les Arméniens’, Revue de l’Orient Chrétien, 9 (1906), 163–81, 274–300, 352–70. 37 G. Golubovich, Biblioteca bio-bibliografica della Terra Santa e dell’Oriente Francescano, 5 vols (Quaracchi, 1906–27), iv, 338–9; Richard, La papauté, 210–4; idem, ‘Les Arméniens à Avignon au XIVe siècle’, Revue des études arméniennes, 23 (1992), 253–64, at 257–9; Nerses is subsequently named archiepiscopus manasgardensis in the accounts of the Camera Apostolica, see Schäfer, Ausgaben, 112, 138, 157, 230, 285. 38 Daniel’s refutations are preserved in Paris, BnF, MS lat. 3368, fols 1r–58v; and edited in Daniel of Tabriz, Responsio fratris Danielis ad errores impositos Hermenis, in Recueil, ii, 559–650; see Golubovich, Biblioteca, iv, 338–9. 39 Acta Benedicti XII, 119–20, no. 57.

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Catholikos Jakob II and an Armenian anti-unionist official were brought to Benedict. According to Daniel of Tabriz, seven Armenian books were in Avignon at the time, and six of those were in the possession of the pope.40 While interpreters skilled in Armenian and Latin translated these works in order to make them available for examination, an apostolic notary was charged with the task of recording both the depositions and the errors extracted from the Armenian books. 41 Western theologians such as the Carmelite Guido Terreni, who had no special knowledge of the religious context under examination, also played roles in the discussion and refutation of the Armenian errors. 42 The results of the investigation seemed to demonstrate the reliability of the suspicions.43 Benedict informed King Leo V, the Catholikos Jacob II, and other Armenian prelates that numerous errors against the Catholic faith were widespread both in Greater and Lesser Armenia, and sent them the list of errors.44 These considerations obviously had an impact on the diplomatic relations between the Holy See and Armenia. The pope refused to respond to the Armenians’ requests for support until they had eradicated such errors. 45 As already shown by the diplomatic exchanges between Avignon and Byzantium, the Holy See regarded Roman obedience and submission to the pope as the primary factors shaping relations with the Eastern Christians and as irrevocable conditions to grant them support against the infidels. The resonance of papal appeals in this respect was amplified by the permanent state of war threatening Byzantine and Cilician territories. However, the Armenian case testifies to different resolutions that could not be applied to the Greek context: while no doctrinal issues were touched upon on the occasion of Barlaam’s mission to Avignon, an actual investigation took place regarding the Armenians’ beliefs, testifying to Benedict’s 40 The former is preserved in BnF, MS lat. 3368, fols 59r–70v; the latter is mentioned by Daniel of Tabriz, see Golubovich, Biblioteca, iv, 336–7. 41 Acta Benedicti XII, 119–20, no. 57. 42 Guido Terreni: Summa de haeresibus et earum confutationibus (Paris, 1528), 29v–42v; see I. Bueno, ‘Guido Terreni at Avignon and the “Heresies” of the Armenians’, Medieval Encounters, 21/2–3 (2015), 169–89; and I. Bueno, ‘Les erreurs des Orientaux chez Guido Terreni et Alvaro Pelagio’, in Guido Terreni, O. Carm. (†1342) (Barcelona/Madrid, 2015), 241–68. 43 As Benedict states in the introductory report preceding the list of 117 errors: ‘Consequently, it was found from their depositions and confessions that the Armenians, or at least some of them, held, believed, and taught the articles written below’ (‘Consequenter ex depositionibus et confessionibus eorum inventum est dicots Armenos vel aliquos ex eis tenere, credere et docere articulos infrascriptos’), Acta Benedicti XII, 120, no. 57. 44 Ibid., 114–9, nos 55–6. 45 Ibid., 114.

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desire to enhance and consolidate their formal submission to the Holy See. Accordingly, the pope encouraged the Armenian ecclesiastical hierarchy to organize a council as soon as possible, in order to discuss and analyse all errors listed in the booklet and condemn these officially in the name of Roman obedience. Moreover, Benedict promoted doctrinal confrontation between learned Latin and Armenian men, and provided the Armenian clergy with the fundamental theological and juridical works of the Latin Church, contributing further to the programme of Latinization already endorsed by the Catholic missions in Armenia. 46 As previously mentioned, the Franciscan Daniel of Tabriz composed a refutation for each of the 117 articles following Benedict’s request. 47 This text, produced during Daniel’s sojourn in Avignon, was also circulated in the East, where it was used during the council that, as recommended by the pope, was actually summoned in Sis in 1345. 48 By then, some fifty Armenian clergymen had examined the accusatory booklet, with the aim of removing the suspicion of unorthodoxy that hung over their own Church. Benedict XII, who died in 1342, never received the response produced by the council. Daniel of Tabriz consigned it to Clement VI sometime between the end of 1345 and the beginning of 1346. 49 This text, conceived as an apologetic response to each one of the 117 accusations, was closely inspired by Daniel’s own refutations. However, this official document did not carry on the polemical tones of the Franciscan friar, and instead had a softer tone; it appeared to be seeking compromise rather than protracting the bitter arguments. The objective of the clergymen reunited at Sis was in fact to remove any doubts about the orthodoxy of the Armenian creed and liturgy, through the refutation of all accusations levelled during the preceding years. Their defence was essentially aimed at reducing the exaggerations that they claimed to undermine the whole ‘booklet of errors and falsities’. Despite admitting that most errors were actually widespread among the Armenians, and especially in Greater Armenia, they sought to demonstrate that the off icial Church was, nonetheless, perfectly orthodox.50

46 Ibid., 114–8. 47 Recueil, ii, 559–650. 48 Acta Benedicti XII, 160–229, no. 59; on the date of the council of Sis, see Mutafian, L’Arménie du Levant, 582–3. 49 Golubovich, Biblioteca, iv, 346. 50 Acta Benedicti XII, 160–229, no. 59; Tournebize, ‘Les cent dix-sept accusations’, 283–300, 352–70.

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The Responsio produced by the council of Sis did not fully persuade Clement VI, who initiated new investigations, maintaining that ‘other very dangerous errors’ were still to be extirpated in Armenia.51 Daniel of Tabriz, the recently appointed bishop of Bosra, was once again in charge of the embassy that reached the Armenian Kingdom in 1347, bringing the letters of the pope and the main collections of canon law.52 It is not certain whether he also brought to the East a copy of a dossier compiled in 1346 by John of Vergonis, bishop of Sutri. This manuscript is today preserved in the Bibliothèque nationale de France. This important volume comprises the most complete dossier pertaining to the recent debates over the Armenian Church.53 In the late fourteenth century, the Armenian religious landscape was still fragmented as a result of the coexistence of opposite philo- and anti-Latin factions. The collapse of the Armenian Kingdom in 1375 was accelerated by the political isolation of this dominion throughout the fourteenth century. As in the Byzantine Empire, the kingdom remained deprived of support in the face of incursions which continually threatened its frontiers. But the causes determining the common political isolation of the two dominions were different. Benedict’s interventions in Greater and Cilician Armenia failed not because of ecclesiological different, but rather due to the political immobility of the Avignon papacy at the dawning of the Hundred Years’ War. In fact, the 117 errors booklet had no impact on the dispatch of resources in support of the Armenian resistance against the Mamluks and Seljuk Turks: even before it had been given to the pope, each and every appeal for help against the Saracens had gone unanswered. Unable to secure Western support against the inf idels, nonetheless Benedict XII did not dismiss the attempt to exercise doctrinal control over the Christians overseas. In this perspective, the recognition of papal primacy and obedience to the Holy See became crucial steps for the concession of material support and military assistance in the war against the infidel. In both cases, papal intervention ultimately resulted in failure. As in Byzantium, and likewise in the Armenian scenario, the inability to block Muslim expansion went hand in hand with a substantial lack of religious control. In spite of the similar results obtained, the lines of 51 Acta Clementis PP. VI (1342–1352), ed. A. Tăutu (Vatican City, 1960), 164–7, n. 105. 52 Golubovich, Biblioteca, iv, 348–50. 53 BnF, lat. 3365; on this manuscript, see Golubovich, Biblioteca, iv, 351–2; and Bueno, ‘Guido Terreni at Avignon’.

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intervention made by Benedict XII differed towards the Greeks (who were considered ‘schismatic’) and the Armenians, who (regardless of their alleged heresies) were formally subject to the Holy See. It was only with respect to the latter that the papacy left space for doctrinal examination and religious confrontation, promoting theological scrutiny, encouraging Church councils, and stimulating diplomatic contacts and the circulation of texts across the Mediterranean.

Benedict XII and the Mongols While the papacy failed to bring the Greeks and the Armenians under full Roman obedience, the evangelization of the Mongols represented even more of a challenge. Since the second half of the thirteenth century, the Western perception of the Mongols had shifted towards more positive appraisals, looking at their expansion as an opportunity for the renewal of the Church. Accordingly, evangelization projects and plans for the conversion of the Tartars acquired increasing importance at the papal court. The promotion of missionary efforts in South-Western, Central, and Eastern Asia, and hope for the conversion of the Khans, became the dominant response of the Apostolic See when facing the Mongols.54 However, whereas the Latins interpreted with hope and expectation the news of the baptism of three delegates of the Il-Khan during the Second Council of Lyon, the Il-Khan saw them as rather more strategic in the light of military cooperation, aiming to consolidate the alliance of the Westerners against the sultan of Egypt. Indeed, the eventual conversion of the Il-Khan to Islam clearly demonstrated the failure of any desire for Christianization.55 The pontificate of Benedict XII was far from representing a key point in the relations between the seat of Avignon and the imperium Tartarorum. The Cistercian pope continued the diplomatic and strategic lines developed by his predecessors, without introducing any substantial changes. During this phase, the protection of Christian minorities in those lands subjected to the Mongols was the primary concern of the papal legations that were 54 D. Bigalli, I Tartari e l’Apocalisse: ricerche sull’escatologia in Adamo Marsh e Ruggero Bacone (Florence, 1971), 7–103. F. Schmieder, Europa und die Fremden: die Mongolen im Urteil des Abendlandes vom 13. bis das 15. Jahrhundert (Sigmaringen, 1994); P. Jackson, The Mongols and the West, 1221–1410 (Harlow, 2005), 138–53; Th. Tanase, ‘Jusqu’aux limites du monde’: la papauté et les missions franciscaines de l’Asie des Mongols à l’Amérique de Christophe Colomb (Rome, 2013). 55 Jackson, The Mongols and the West, 165–95; Richard, La papauté, 63–120.

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reaching Mongol rulers. These communities benefited from a particularly favourable Mongol law, the yasaq, inspired by respect for the religions and cults of subjected populations. Nonetheless, the Christian minorities suffered from the lack of spiritual guidance and sacred buildings in which to celebrate the sacraments. Moreover, the efforts of missionary friars towards the recently converted peoples, the infidel, and the Mongol rulers all needed to be strengthened and consolidated. An embassy of the Great Khan Toghon-Temür reached Avignon at the beginning of 1338. The long journey – which had brought the imperial legate and fifteen companions from Khanbalik ‘beyond the seven seas, where the sun sets’ – was supposed to inaugurate a series of diplomatic exchanges between the Apostolic See and the imperial court. This was in fact the first task of the embassy, as openly stated in the khan’s letter. Secondly, the emperor invoked the blessing and prayers of the pope for himself and his subjects, and among these he particularly recommended the Alans.56 There is no doubt that these Christian princes were the actual promoters of the papal legation: the imperial letter was in fact accompanied by their own letter, which demonstrated deference to the Catholic faith and expressed their own requests to the Apostolic See. At the core of the document was a deep concern for the spiritual solitude of the Christian minorities in the Far East. In fact, the papal legate charged with the care of souls living in those regions had died some eight years earlier, but since then no substitute, or papal envoy, had ever reached Khanbalik. The authors of the letter did not hesitate to deplore this silence as a lie (mendacia) deserving great shame (magna verecundia). The absence of a spiritual guide was, however, not the only concern of the Christian minorities under the Mongols. The Alans also appealed to Benedict XII in order to ensure the Great Kahn’s favours: as they explained, ‘his favour in the empire can cause innumerable goods, and his indignation innumerable evils’.57 The attempt to stimulate the benevolence of the Great Khan towards his Christian subjects was in fact the principal subject of the diplomatic exchanges between Avignon and Khanbalik during those years. Benedict XII considered these appeals carefully. His response to the ‘emperor of emperors of all the Tartars’ reveals his desire to engage in frequent diplomatic exchanges with the Mongol ruler and to protect the Christian minorities. He urged the khan to be benevolent to his Christian subjects, allowing them to preach and to build churches and oratories. In 56 BF, vi, 58, n. 1. 57 Ibid., vi, 58–9, n. 2.

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addition, another topos – the conversion of the Great Khan, which had played an increasing role in papal Eastern diplomacy since the second half of the thirteenth century – emerged in Benedict’s letter. The pope concludes his letter by stating that he will continue to pray for the sovereign’s soul to be enlightened by God.58 The actual significance of this design in Benedict’s time is discussed later in this chapter. As far as the Alans were concerned, the pope recommended that they protect Christian believers and undertake the construction of sacred buildings.59 In addition, Benedict sent them the Articles of Faith, aiming to instruct them in the correct doctrine and consolidate their submission to the Roman Church. The rhetorical choices of the document addressed to these lords are particularly meaningful, as Benedict XII defines himself as the ‘universal shepherd’ (pastor universalis) whose authority reaches out to the entire flock of God in consequence of Christ’s redemption of humankind. This motif appears in other letters issued by Benedict’s chancery with respect to the territories of mission, stressing the universal value of a message radiating from the Provençal citadel to the most remote Levantine regions. After an excursus on the nature of the Trinity and ascension of Christ, the sacraments, and the recently defined doctrine of the Beatific Vision, Benedict’s letter to the Alan princes focuses on the superiority of the Roman Church and the plenitudo potestatis of the pope. The apostolate in the partes orientales, he stresses, shall act under the sign of obedience to Rome.60 The pope again defines himself in this manner in a letter of 1340 to the Catholic clerics and friars settled in the lands of the Tartars, aiming to encourage their mission of evangelization.61 On their journey back to Cathay, the imperial ambassadors also consigned Benedict’s messages to the Khans of Djaghataï and the Golden Horde. These documents testify to the coherent programme endorsed by the Apostolic See in partibus Orientis: the consolidation of the ecclesiastical hierarchy through the establishment of new dioceses, the foundation of new churches, and the appeal to the Khans to allow Christians to preach and to protect Christian believers. These issues arise in the letters to Čanksi, khan of Djaghataï, and Usbech, khan of the Golden Horde. The former was praised for the concession of graces and privileges to Christians, the benevolent reception of the envoys of John XXII, and for granting Christians permission to preach, 58 59 60 61

Ibid., vi, 58, no. 88. Ibid., vi, 58–9, no. 89. Acta Benedicti XII, 44–8, no. 25. BF, vi, 79–80, no. 127.

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restore old churches, and build new ones.62 The latter was congratulated for providing the Friars Minor with a suitable place in the city of Saraï.63 In addition, the letters to both khans repeat the same ideal of conversion, already expressed to the Great Khan, by which Benedict confirms that he is willing to receive the Mongol envoys and to send his own in order to show the emperors the path to salvation.64 This project was soon put into practice. The following autumn the pope organized a legation to approach the imperium Tartarorum. Four Friars Minor – Nicholas Bonet, Nicholas of Molano, Gregory of Hungary, and John of Marignolli – were entrusted with this mission; and, leaving Avignon in late 1338, accompanied by about fifty men, they were received in Khanbalik some three years later. The principal duty of the group was to entice the infidel to adopt the Christian faith and to corroborate the believers’ faith through preaching and good deeds. The pope entrusted the friars with the usual licences released in lands of missions: the authorization to celebrate Mass and the sacraments, to hear confessions, and to impose penitence. Most importantly, they received the crusading indulgence in return for their apostolic efforts, and were provided with safe conduct and an accurate expositio of the orthodox faith.65 After having met the Mongol embassy in Naples, Benedict’s legates remained in Constantinople for a few months before crossing the Black Sea in the direction of the Golden Horde and the Khanate of Djaghataï, and eventually reached Cathay. Shortly after their sojourn in Djaghataï, Usbech sent a new legation to Avignon. His ambassadors – two Catholic nobles and friar Elia of Hungary – reached the Provençal city in 1340, where they informed the pope that his own nuntii had safely arrived in Almaligh.66 Not only did they inform the pope that Khan Usbech welcomed them, but they also pointed out that all papal requests had been followed and that the sovereign was in fact benevolent towards his Christian subjects, authorizing the construction and restoration of sacred buildings, and allowing the friars to preach and administer the sacraments.67 However, at the same time, Benedict XII had also heard of other less positive incidents. A recent conspiracy against the Khan of Djaghataï had led to his palace being burned down one night – and 62 Ibid., vi, 59–60, no. 90; 60, n. 1. 63 Ibid., vi, 60, no. 91. 64 Ibid., vi, 60, nos 90 and 91. 65 Ibid., vi, 62–3, no. 96; BXII: Pays autres, 605, no. 2050. 66 The ambassadors left for Almaligh in 1340, with a safe conduct pass: BXII: Pays autres, 82, no. 2860. 67 BF, vi, 77–8, no. 124.

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the pope learned that Christians were accused of being responsible for this crime. Although Usbech did not take these rumours seriously, they testified to the existence of insidious anti-Christian factions in his dominion who did not hesitate to use instrumentally a conspiracy against the sovereign in order to repress these minorities. The implications of these events were clear to the pope, ever aware that a change in the political elite of the Khanate would have serious consequences for the situation of Christian believers. As it was impossible to intervene in the internal situation of the Khanate, Benedict XII could do nothing but continue to encourage the khan’s conversion to Christianity. In the face of events that escaped his control completely, his only response was the hope that the recent aggression might have pushed Usbech to meditate on the precariousness of existence, and that this would elicit in him a desire for eternal life.68 Benedict’s efforts to encourage the khan to embrace the Christian faith also involved Usbech’s wife Taydola and his son Tynybech.69 That the conversion of the prince could have a wider impact on the evangelization of non-Christian populations is undoubted; but just how realistic was this project? We find our answer to this question in the events that followed: Usbech and his family failed to convert to Christianity and, shortly after Usbech’s death, a new anti-Christian khan came to power. This was the final information that Benedict XII received on the situation in Djaghataï because his legates were soon forced to leave Almaligh and make their way to Khanbalik, where they would remain for a few years at the court of the Great Khan.70 The record of this embassy in the Far East survives in reports by John of Marignolli, a collection of stories recounting this Florentine friar’s travels throughout Eastern China, Malabar, India, Ceylon, the Kingdom of Saba, and later to Baghdad, Mosul, Aleppo, Damascus, and Jerusalem. John himself did not reach Avignon again until 1353, long after Benedict XII had died.71 In spite of an international situation that prevented new crusading actions, Benedict XII never ceased to set in motion the diplomatic machinery of the papal Curia in the Oriental regions. The scope of his remit was to reinforce the friendly relations between the Apostolic See and the Mongol sovereigns, regarding these contacts as fundamental to the protection 68 Ibid., vi, 77–8, no. 124. 69 Ibid., vi, nos 125–6. 70 Ibid., vi, 77, n. 1. 71 Richard, La papauté, 153–4, along with the literature cited at 153, n. 111.

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of Christian minorities and the safeguarding of their religious practice. Whereas the pope was able to accomplish some provisional success in this matter, other projects ended in failure. First, Benedict was unable to fill the structural lacunae in the presence of an ecclesiastical hierarchy in the territories subject to the Mongols. Secondly, the appeal to the conversion of the Mongol rulers appears as a rhetorical rather than a realistic prospect. If not granting conversion, the establishment of friendly diplomatic relations with the Mongol elite in power was at least functional in terms of the protection of the eastern frontiers of Europe. In this view, Benedict solicited Khan Usbech to cease military pressure on the frontiers of the Kingdoms of Hungary and Poland, where the pope was informed that fighting, looting, and even murders were taking place.72 To guarantee more effective results in this area, Benedict adopted even more drastic resolutions: he granted crusading privileges to the king of Poland for his resistance to the Tartars,73 and permitted the archbishop of Gniezno and the bishops of Cracow and Breslau to preach the crusade.74 In fact, such concessions were in open contradiction to the positive contacts entertained with the Mongol rulers. The strategy adopted throughout the frontiers of Eastern Europe was not only different, but indeed actually opposed to that followed in the dominions of the Tartars. Certainly, the protection of the frontiers of Poland and Hungary was more realistic as an objective than the conversion of the Mongol emperors and the evangelization of their subjects, as they were supported by the royal armies rather than relying on the sporadic action of legates and missionary friars. The encounters between Benedict XII and the legates of the Great Khan were destined to acquire wide fame and long-lasting memory. In around the mid-fourteenth century, a selection of letters pertaining the Great Khan’s embassy to Avignon became part of a renowned collection including various literary and documentary texts about the Eastern lands. This collection, assembled and translated into old French by Jean le Long in 1351, contains letters, travel reports, and historical and geographical treatises by authors such as Hayton of Korykos, Odoric of Pordenone, William Boldensele, John Mandeville, Ricold of Montecroce, and John of Cori.75 The manuscript tradition of these translated texts demonstrates 72 BF, vi, 77–8, no. 124. 73 BXII: Pays autres, ii, 280, no. 8123. 74 Ibid., ii, 280, nos 8124–5. 75 Besançon, Bibliothèque municipale, MS 667; Bern, Bürgerbibliothek, MS 125; BnF, MS fr. 1380, MS fr. 12202, MS fr. 2810; BL, MS Cotton Otho, D ii, xv.

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that they were meant to be read as a whole while, in the late fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, they were systematically copied together to form part of a unique, monumental summa of geo-ethnographic knowledge about the East. This summa had a wide circulation, testified by precious codices such as the wonderfully illuminated Livre des merveilles, which also includes reports of Marco Polo’s travels to Cathay. Made for the Duke of Burgundy in the early fifteenth century, this masterpiece in the history of manuscript decoration also contains a refined depiction of the encounter between Benedict XII and the legates of the Great Khan.76 Extrapolated from its original context, such a meeting had acquired quasi-fabulous tones. Le Long’s miscellany was, in fact, destined to entertain aristocratic and bourgeois readers – satisfying their literary interest and curiosity for exotic lands and populations. The records of Benedict’s encounters with the Mongol ambassadors are also preserved in another important miscellany, compiled with very different objectives in mind. Vatican Register 62 is a collection of letters and documents issued by the Apostolic Chancery during the pontificates of Clement V, John XXII, Benedict XII, and Clement VI, relating to the negotia Tartarorum parcium ultramarinarum et infidelium ac scismaticorum.77 Although less well known than Jean le Long’s collection, Vatican Register 62 is of significant historical interest, revealing the deliberate intention of the papal officials to gather the main records regarding the Orient into a distinct volume. If the logic undermining the documentary organization corresponds to any underlying ideological criteria, then one might assume that the Apostolic See conceived and looked at the affairs regarding the Oriental ‘peripheries’ in a unitary manner. According to James Muldoon, this register may have been compiled at the time of the return of the popes to Rome, in an attempt to reaffirm the universalistic mission of the papacy.78 This hypothesis seems to overemphasize the copyist’s personal endeavour and the connection between the compilation of the volume and the return of the popes from Avignon to Rome. Nonetheless, it rightly detects an ideal line of demarcation between centre and periphery, between ‘us’ and ‘them’ – between Rome and Avignon, perceived as the centre of Christianity, the shield of orthodoxy, and the world beyond its frontiers. Unlike Jean le 76 BnF, MS fr. 2810, fol. 133. The image is available online at: http://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/ btv1b52000858n/f271.item.zoom. 77 ASV, Reg. Vat. 62. 78 See J. Muldoon, Popes, Lawyers, and Infidels: the Church and the non-Christian world, 1250–1550 (Philadelphia, l979), 72–91; idem, ‘The Avignon Papacy and the Frontiers of Christendom: the evidence of Vatican Register 62’, AHP, 17 (1979), 125–95.

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Long’s collection, the papal register was conceived with a documentary aim in mind: accordingly, it was not meant to be circulated, but was to be preserved in the pontifical archive. What the register offers is in fact a selection of the most relevant correspondence relating to Byzantium, Armenia, Cyprus, and the Mongol Khanates, pertaining to the first half of the fourteenth century, and organized according to pontificate. A few documents issued by Innocent III and Boniface VIII, or those addressed to various popes by Byzantine and Mongol authorities, are also included in the volume. Unsurprisingly, Register 62 also contains a copy of the famous booklet listing the 117 errors of the Armenians.79 The most detailed discussion of the Armenians’ alleged heresies could not be absent from a repertory of the principal records about the non-Latin East issued by the papal Curia after the Second Council of Lyon. In common with the letters regarding the Mongol embassy to Avignon, the discussion of the Armenians’ errors pertained to the universal mission of the papacy, aiming to enhance the defence of orthodoxy and the expansion of the Catholic faith.

Conclusions A comparative analysis of Benedict’s religious policies in the Levant clearly demonstrates that the regions generally referred to under the general expression partes Orientis were not perceived in a unitary way by the papal Curia. Non-Catholic, ‘non-properly’ Catholic, and non-Christian populations such as the Greeks, the Armenians, and the Mongols occupied very different positions in the confrontation with the Roman Church – eliciting varied diplomatic and intellectual responses by the Holy See. After the failure of the unification stipulated during the Second Council of Lyon, the Greeks had attracted once again the displeasure of the papal Curia. Benedict XII was fairly inflexible about what the terms of ecclesiastical reconciliation were to be. Even if friendly diplomatic relations were entertained between Constantinople and Avignon, Benedict remained rigid and uncompromising with the imperial delegates. He was neither willing to support Byzantium against the Turks without prior submission to the Roman Church; nor did he wish to engage in any religious confrontation with the ‘schismatics’, claiming the doctrinal issues separating the two Churches to have been sufficiently clarified by the preceding ecclesiastical 79 Reg. Vat. 62, fols 100r–24v.

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councils. Recurring terms found in the papal registers, such as reconciliatio and reunio, imply a one-way understanding of the process that ought to have brought about an end to the schism – namely, complete submission to the pope and acceptance of the Filioque. Conversely, the Armenians occupied a more privileged position than the Greeks at the papal Curia. As a result of their formal obedience to the Roman Church, which was twice reiterated during the early fourteenth century, they were regarded with greater favour, even managing to obtain from the Holy See unfulfilled promises of material support. In spite of this, the Armenians were suspected (and accused) of unorthodoxy during the fourteenth century, which seriously compromised their potentially promising position. Benedict XII promoted one of the most vibrant discussions and investigations of the Armenian Church to have occurred since the union of 1198. The latter years of his pontificate witnessed a substantial effort to scrutinize the Armenian creed and religious behaviour at the papal Curia, which resulted in the interrogations of witnesses, the examination of writings, the compilations of lists of errors and polemical works, and, finally, in the establishment of a new religious council at Sis. In the framework of this complex examination, the Latins classified the Armenian tenets according to the intellectual categories and juridical methods at their disposal: respectively, the category of heresy and the methods of inquisitorial investigation. The application of these conceptual frameworks and methods of inquiry resulted in the gradual shift of the Latins’ Eastern brothers towards potential heretics. Regardless of the means and results of the investigation started in Avignon at the beginning of the 1340s, one can observe that it was an occasion to implement religious confrontation and intercultural exchange between two opposing sides of the Mediterranean Sea. The examination of the Armenians’ alleged heresies served only to increase polemical attitudes, misunderstandings, and suspicions between the involved parts. Yet, on the other hand, it facilitated the increasing circulation of people, texts, and ideas travelling across the Mediterranean, resulting in a wider transmission of writings and in the implementation of cultural and linguistic exchanges between East and West. Far more limited, on the contrary, was the interaction of the papacy with Mongol rulers and aristocrats. The primary and more attainable goals of the papacy in the fourteenth century were the protection of Christian minorities and the enhancement of Catholic missions in the Mongol dominions. Yet, the intention to convert the khan was still evident in the diplomatic activities of Benedict XII. Be it the outcome of unrealistic dreams or merely

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rhetorical choices, this idea was nonetheless recurring in Benedict’s letters to the khans, ultimately revealing just how different was the Westerners’ perception of the Mongols from that of the Saracens. Whereas Mamluks and Turks represented the principal enemies of Christianity during the fourteenth century, Benedict XII, the ‘universal shepherd’, still continued to regard the territories under Mongol domination as potential settings for the dissemination of the Gospel. Irene Bueno, University of Bologna



Index of names

Abu-al-Hasan 236 Adam Orleton 199 Adhémar de Mosset 77–8 Aegean Sea 24, 218–22, 224–5, 227–30, 233, 236–7, 239 Agnès Francou 44–5, 51 Aicardo da Camodeia 173 Alamande Guilabert 51, 53 Alberico da Rosciate 173 Albertino Mussato 133 Albi 28, 32, 53–4 Aleppo 262 Alfarano, Tiberio 153 Alfonso IV, king of Portugal 237 Alfonso XI, king of Castile 237–8 Algeciras 237–8 Alidoli, family 176 Almaligh 261–2 Alvaro Pelayo 91 Ambrose of Milan, St 84 Amendola 177 Amiens 209, 213 Anagni 176 Anatolia 217, 224, 226, 242 Andrew, St 152 Andronikos II, emperor 244 Andronikos III, emperor 219, 231–2, 244–5, 249 Anna of Savoy 244 Annibaldo of Ceccano 88–90, 93, 97 Anonimo Romano 132–3, 136, 161, 165 Antonioli, Guido 179 Antwerp 213 Apulia 222, 253 Aquitaine 202, 209 Aragon 237 Aragon-Catalonia, kingdom of 217 Ariège 13, 15, 77, 82 Armand de Belvézer 89–90 Armenia 18, 224, 226–7, 239, 256 Cilician Armenia (Lesser). See also Cilicia 18, 196, 219, 224–7, 233, 236, 250–1, 254–5, 257 Greater Armenia 254–7, Kingdom of 250–1, 257 Arnaud Cogul 43 Arnaud de Capelano 35 Arnaud de Monesple 47 Arnaud de Savinhan 46–7 Arnaud de Troam 121 Arnaud de Verniolles 49–50 Arnaud de Via 113 Arnaud Fabre 51 Arnaud Gélis 47–8 Arnaud Laufre 41 Arnaud Novel 14, 82 Arnold, John H. 25, 36, 56

Arnolfo di Cambio 24, 131, 131, 136, 140–1, 143–5, 147–8, 150, 152, 155, 161, 163 Asia 22 Asia Minor 217, 227–8, 231 Assisi 71, 119, 122, 168, 184 Athens 228–30 Aude Fauré 47 Augustine of Hippo, St 62, 100–2 Austria 197 Avignon 13–4, 16–20, 23–4, 26, 57, 59–60, 69–72, 75, 77–9, 82, 89–91, 93, 98, 106–8, 110, 112–4, 117–20, 122, 124–5, 128, 159, 161, 167–8, 170–1, 173, 178–9, 183–8, 196–9, 202–3, 206, 210, 212, 220, 223, 230, 236, 243–5, 248–9, 252–6, 258–9, 261–6 Aymon of Savoy 245 Baghdad 262 Balkans 217 Ballo da Colonna 164 Baluze, Étienne 16, 109, 112, 118 Barber, Malcolm 33, 36–7 Barlaam of Seminara 231–2, 245–9, 255 Barthélemy Amilhac 41, 49 Barthélemy Sicard 61, 75 Bartholomew Burghersh 202, 211 Bartolomeo Gradenigo 234 Baudime, St 146 Béarn 35 Béatrice de Planissoles 37–43, 48–53, 55 Bédarrides 125 Belpech 76, 78 Benedict XI 58 Benedict XII, pope (Jacques Fournier) and Beatific Vision 15–6, 18, 21, 58, 73–4, 81–107, 120 and crusades 18, 21, 24, 217–40, 242–3 and heretics 13–4, 18-9, 22, 25, 28–57, 75, 107–8, 223 and Hundred Years’ War 17–8, 21, 24, 191–216 and Italy 21, 23–4, 167–90 and Peter John Olivi 15, 21–2, 57–79 and the East 18, 22, 241–67 and the region of Avignon 21, 23–4, 107–129 as bishop 14, 21, 27–57, 75–7, 223 as cardinal 14–5, 19, 28, 77–8, 82 as theologian 13–6, 18-9, 21–2, 25–6, 57–79, 82 election to papacy 13–4, 16, 57 sculpture portrait of 21, 24, 131–65 Benedict XIII, antipope 74 Benedetto Caetani. See Boniface VIII Benedict of Nursia, St 61, 143, 145 Bérenger de Roquefort 37–8 Bérenger Escoulan 44

270  Bergamo 173–4 Bernard Belot 50–1 Bernard Canelle 115 Bernard de Castanet 32 Bernard de Caux 30 Bernard de Sistre 198, 202 Bernard Franque 44 Bernard Gui 33, 42, 55, 76–7 Bernard of Clairvaux, St 83–8, 100–1, 103–4 Bernat de Na Jacma 78 Bertinoro 177, 188 Bertramino Parravicini 179 Bertrand de Clermont 32 Bertrand de Déaux 110, 113, 119, 183–4, 186 Bertrand de Gard 179 Bertrand de la Tour 71 Bertrand de Montfavet 125 Bertrand du Pouget 110–1, 169, 178, 189–90 Bertrand of Glar 189–90 Bertrand of Montfavès 204–5, 208–10, 212–3, 215 Berwick 197 Biscaro, Gerolamo 168, 174 Black Sea 261 Blanquefort 200 Bobbio 173–4 Bohemia 238 Bollène 122 Bologna 108, 110–2, 133, 175, 178–9, 189–90 Bonagrazia of Bergamo 58, 61, 64–6, 70–1, 78, 83, 89 Boniface VIII, pope (Benedetto Caetani) 24, 28, 83, 131, 136, 140–3, 145, 147–50, 152, 155, 157–9, 161, 163, 265 Boulbonne, Abbey of 14, 82 Brabant 207 Brescia 174 Brune Pourcel 43, 51 Burgundy 206 Byzantium 18, 25, 231, 241, 244, 246–51, 255, 257, 265 Caderousse 122 Caglioti, Francesco 153 Calabria 164, 249 Cambrésis 215 Camerino 175, 181 Campania 182–3 Čanksi, khan of Djaghataï 260 Carcassonne 27–8, 33, 37, 54 Carpentras 122–3, 127 Castelnuovo, Enrico 111 Castile 17, 197, 237 Kingdom of 217 Castro Carrito 177 Cathay 261, 264 Caujac 76 Cavaillon 122–3 Cervia 177 Cesena 175–6

Pope Benedic t XII (1334–1342)

Ceylon 262 Channel Islands 200, 207 Charles-Robert, king of Hungary 238 China 8, 262 Cilicia. See also Cilician Armenia 251–3, 257 Cintegabelle 76 Clarentza 229 Clement V, pope 14, 108–9, 231, 264 Clement VI, pope (Pierre Roger) 19, 24, 91, 93, 108, 117, 127–9, 171, 183, 206, 218, 230–2, 236, 238, 256–7, 264 Colbert, Jean-Baptiste 16, 35 Colonna, family 113, 182–3 Como 173–4 Comtat Venaissin 23, 107, 120–8 Conrad of Marburg 29 Constantinople 113, 231, 245, 247, 249, 253, 261, 265 Crampagna 53 Crema 173 Cremona 173–4 Crete 227, 233–4 Curry, Anne 204 Cyprus 221, 224–7, 253, 265 Kingdom of 219, 224 Damascus 262 Daniel of Tabriz 254–7 David II, king of Scotland 197–8 Déprez, Eugène 193–6, 199, 201–2, 204, 206, 208, 210, 212–3 Djaghataï, khanate of 261–2 Doat, Jean de 35 Donosdeo de’ Malavolti 186 Duchy of Aquitaine 197, 200, 203, 207 Duchy of Guyenne 204, 207 Duchy of Spoleto 169, 181, 183–4 Duprè Theseider, Eugenio 167–8 Durand de Saint-Pourçan 15, 73–4, 90, 92, 98 Eckhart, Meister 15, 73 Edward III, king of England 191–2, 194–216, 221, 233 Edward Balliol, king of Scotland Edward, duke of Cornwall 213 Ehrle, Franz 74 Elia of Hungary 261 Empire, Western 17, 169, 193, 198, 203, 207 England 17–8, 191–216, 221–2, 233, 238–9 Este, family 169–71, 173, 176 Niccolò 171 Obizzo 170–1 Rinaldo 170–1 Europe 13, 18, 21, 25–6, 32, 89, 147, 193–4, 222, 239, 242, 244, 263 Eastern 25, 239, 263 north-eastern 217–8, 236, 238 Western 13, 19, 239 Ezzelino da Romano 179

271

Index of names

Fabriano 175, 180–1 Fabrissa den Riba 41, 52 Faenza 175–6 Famagusta 224 Fano 175, 181 Far East 24 Favier, Jean 193 Fermo 172, 175, 180–1 Ferrara 169–71, 175–6, 189–90 Ferrier, Friar 29 Fez 236 Fichard, Johannes 153 Flanders 193–4, 202, 204, 213 Florence 141, 163 Foligno 175 Fontfroide, Abbey of 14, 82 Forlì 176–7, 187–8 Forlimpopoli 176 Foulque de Lapopie 171 France 13, 17, 29, 31, 36, 64, 147, 191, 193–4, 196–7, 199–216, 219, 221–2, 224, 238–9 Francesco di Giorgio Martini 163 Francesco Petrarch 20, 159, 161 Francesco Silvestri 58, 65, 70, 171 Francis of Assisi, St 61, 67–8 Francis of Meyronnes 79 Frankfurt 206 Fredrik of Trinacria 183 Gaillard de Pomiès 28 Galvano Fiamma 174, 179 Gasbert de Valle 90, 125 Gascony 199–200, 202, 208, 211, 212 Geoffroy d’Ablis 27, 33, 54–55 Gerard of Borgo San Donnino 66 Gerardo Bianchi 147 Géraud du Pesquier 93 Germany 202, 207, 213–5, 222, 238 Gibraltar 236 Gil Alvarez of Albornoz 185–6 Giovanni Pisano 143 Giovanni Villani 14, 161, 237 Golden Horde 261 Gozio Battaglia 113 Grazide Lizier 43, 49 Greece 217, 225, 228–30 Gregory IV, pope 157 Gregory XI, pope 73 Gregory de Signelie 196, 198 Gregory of Hungary 261 Gregory Palamas 249 Grigor Sargis 252 Grillon 120 Grimaldi, Giacomo 136, 139, 149–50, 155 Guichard de Poitiers 120 Guido of San Germano 111, 208 Guillaume Agasse 36 Guillaume Audebert 125 Guillaume Autast 44

Guillaume Autier 38, 52 Guillaume Bélibaste 36–7, 55 Guillaume Belot 53 Guillaume Benet 51 Guillaume de Baux 120 Guillaume de Berengis 126 Guillaume de Granhols 121 Guillaume de Peyre Godin 71 Guillaume de Savigny 200 Guillaume de Villaret 126 Guillaume Fort 52 Guillaume Frangipani 228–9 Guillaume Guilabert 51 Guillaume Pierre Godin 196 Guillaume Ricart 35 Guillaume Roux 49–50 Guillemain, Bernard 20, 193, 205 Guillemette Benet 51 Guillemette Clergue 52 Guiral Ot 91 Gulf of Adramyttion 219 Guy Chrevier 201 Guyenne 35, 202, 207, 210–1 Hainault 202, 204, 207 Haines, Roy Martin 208, 211 Hayton of Korykos 251, 253, 263 Henry VII of Luxembourg, emperor 133, 169 Henry Burghersh 202–3, 206–8 Henry of Canterbury 200 Hethoum II, king of Armenia 250 Holy Land 24, 197, 199–200, 202, 217, 219–22, 225–6, 231, 236–8, 242, 251, 253 Honorius III, pope 157 Housley, Norman 218, 239 Hugh IV, king of Cyprus 219, 224, 226, 234, 236 Hugh d’Aimery 197–8 Hugh Quiéret 220–1, 223 Hugonet Adhémar 120 Hugues d’Angoulȇme 126 Huguette de la Coste 44–6, 51 Humbert of Viennois 230 Hungary 238, 263 Iberia 18, 25, 217–8, 236–9 Imola 175–6 India 262 Innocent II, pope 157 Innocent III, pope 145, 157, 179, 265 Italy 17–8, 21, 23–4, 109–12, 133, 160, 167–8, 173–4, 176, 178, 180, 182–6, 193, 198, 215, 229 Jacques de Broa 119, 125 Jacques Duèse. See John XXII Jacques Fournier. See Benedict XII Jacob of Verona 224 Jacopo Torriti 148 Jacotte Carot 41–2 Jakob II, Armenian catholicos 254–5

272  James III, king of Majorca 77 Jamme, Armand 182–5 Jean Amiel 119 Jean d’Harcourt 197 Jean de Beaune 28 Jean de Chatel 200 Jean de Cojordan 125 Jean de Flete 196 Jean de Près 200 Jean de Saint-Pierre 30, 35 Jean de Vienne 44, 46, 51 Jean du Périer 184 Jean La Porte d’Annonay 118 Jean le Long 263–5 Jean Quidort 59, 70 Jean Poisson (Piscis) 112, 159 Jean Rubey of Clarion 91 Jenkins, Helen 193–4, 204, 207, 213–4, 220 Jersey 212 Jerusalem 62, 120, 217, 253, 262 Joachim of Fiore 57, 59–62, 64–6, 69, 73–5 Johannes Hiltalingen of Basel 71–3, 78 John XIII, pope 143 John XVIII, pope 143 John XXII, pope (Jacques Duèse) 13–5, 17, 19, 21–5, 42, 58–9, 61, 65, 69–71, 73–5, 77, 79, 81–4, 86–100, 103, 108–10, 112, 116–23, 125–9, 159, 161, 167, 169–78, 180, 183–4, 188, 192–3, 197, 205, 214, 218–32, 236–7, 239, 245, 252, 254, 260, 264 John Lutterell 93 John Mandeville 263 John de Ragenhill 201 John de Ros 202 John, Duke of Brabant and Lotharingia 208 John of Aragon 93 John of Cepoy 220 John of Cori 263 John of Marignolli 261–2 John of Naples 89–90, 92 John of Rupescissa 79 John of Vergonis 257 John Piers 196, 200 John Stratford 211 Juliana, St 147 Khanbalik 259, 261–2 Kingdom of Saba 262 Koch, Josef 71, 73–4 Lambertino Baldwin della Cecca 234–5 Languedoc 27–30, 35–7, 52–3, 61, 238 Lansing, Carol 31 Larner, John 169 Lauragais 28, 30–1, 35 Laurence Fastolf 199, 201 Lea, Henry Charles 54 Lello Gariofoli 134, 164 Lentsch, Roberte 115, 117–8

Pope Benedic t XII (1334–1342)

Leo III, pope 155 Leo V, king of Armenia 224, 226, 252–3 Leo IX, pope 136 Léon 237 Le Roy Ladurie, Emmanuel 34, 82 Limoux 53 L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue 122–3 Lodi 173–4 Lombardy 222 London 195, 211 Lorenzo da Mondaino 172 Lorenzo of Ancona 186 Lotharingia 206 Louis de Pierregrosse 113 Louis of Bavaria, emperor 17, 83, 89, 94, 161, 169, 180, 191, 194, 197, 201, 203, 206–7, 209–10, 212–6, 221 Louis of Clermont 219 Louvre 91 Ludolf of Sudheim 226–7 Macerata 175, 180–1 Macrobius 93 Maier, Anneliese 75 Majorca 237 Malabar 262 Malatesta, family 176–7, 187–8 Galeotto 181 Malaucène 122–3 Mamluk Sultanate of Egypt 217, 242 Manfredi, family 176 March of Ancona 169, 171, 175–7, 180–1, 184–8 Marco Battagli 176 Marco Polo 264 Maremma 183 Marseille 220–2 Massa Trabaria 164 McKisack, May 192 Mediterranean Sea 18, 219 Eastern Mediterranean 17, 20, 24, 217–9, 225, 231, 234, 236, 238–9, 241–4, 248, 253–4 Meldola 177 Mercenario di Monteverde 180 Michael VIII, emperor 244 Michael of Cesena 15, 71, 73, 83 Milan 169, 172–4, 189–90, 221 Mirepoix 14, 76–7, 82, 114, 125 Mollat, Guillaume 20, 168–9, 182, 186 Monciatti, Alessio 111 Moneta da Cremona 92 Mongolia 81 Montaillou 25, 27, 33, 37, 41, 43, 51, 75–7 Montefalco 119 Montefeltro, family 169 Galasso 181 Nolfo 181 Montélimar 121 Monteux 122–3

Index of names

Morea 229 Mormoiron 122–3 Mornas 122 Mosul 262 Muldoon, James 264 Munich 22, 83–4, 89, 91, 94, Naples 22, 89, 132, 183, 219, 245, 249, 261 Narbonne 29, 115 Navarre 237 Near East 18, 24 Negroponte 225, 253 Nerses Balientz 254 Newcastle 196–7 Niccolò Capocci 208 Nice 220 Nicholas III, pope 157 Nicholas IV, pope 157 Nicholas V, antipope (Peter of Corbara) 161, 206, 215 Nicholas Bonet 261 Nicholas d’Abbeville 32 Nicholas of Lyra 93 Nicholas of Molano 261 Nicola Pisano 143 Nicolino Fieschi 200 Niederwerth 214 Nikephoros Gregoras 219 Nold, Patrick 71 Northampton 199 Novara 173–4 Noves 125 Odoric of Pordenone 263 Oliver of Ingham 202 Oppède 122 Ordelaffi, family 176–7 Cecco 177 Francesco 175, 177, 187–8 Orsini, family 113, 182–3 Napoleone 196 Orvieto 175 Orwell 211 Osimo 175, 180–1, 186 Othon de Lagleize 49 Otto, Heinrich 168 Oxford 22 Pamiers 19, 21, 27–8, 33–4, 36, 41, 45, 49–50, 57, 75–8, 82, 223 Paolo da Siena 131, 134, 136, 138–40, 142, 156, 159, 161–2 Papal States 167, 169–70, 175, 181, 183–4 Paravicini Bagliani, Agostino 143, 145 Paris 14, 22, 71, 82, 91–2, 106, 195, 206 Paschal I, pope 157 Patrasso 152 Patrimony of St Peter. See Papal States Paul V, pope 155

273 Paul the Apostle, St 67, 69 Paul of Monteflore 199, 201, 206 Pavia 173–4 Pedro Gomez de Barroso 204–6, 208–10, 212–3, 215 Pegg, Mark Gregory 31 Périgueux 125 Pernes 122–3 Perroy, Edouard 192, 194, 198–9, 202, 204, 215 Perugia 175 Pesaro 175,181 Peter, St 138, 143, 145, 147, 152–5, 157–9, 161, 163, 165 Peter André 206 Peter Bourguignon 205, 208–9 Peter John Olivi 15, 21–2, 57–6, 69, 71–5, 77–9 Peter of Corbara. See Nicholas V, antipope Peter of Rouen 205 Petrarch. See Francesco Petrarch Philip IV the Fair, king of France 84 Philip V, king of France 36 Philip VI, king of France 91, 111–3, 191–2, 194, 196–216, 219–26, 243, 246–7, 252 Philip of Majorca 77 Philippa of Hainault, queen of England 201 Philippe de Chambarlhac 201, 203 Philippe de Planissoles 37 Piacenza 173–4 Pierre Autier 36–8 Pierre Clergue 37, 48–9 Pierre de Artisio 121–2 Pierre de Lubersu 49 Pierre Desmaisons 91 Pierre de Casa 125–6 Pierre de Tierlieu 196 Pierre de Verberie 201 Pierre des Prés 113 Pierre Guilhem 121–2 Pierre Magre 51 Pierre Poisson (Piscis) 112, 114–6, 159 Pierre Roger. See Clement VI, pope Pierre Sabatier 46 Pierre Seila 30, 35 Pirani, Francesco 174, 180, 184–5 Pisa 143 Pius II, pope 152 Plato 93 Plöger, Karsten 193 Poland 238, 263 da Polenta, family 175–6 Ostasio 177 Pons de Parnac 30 Pons-sur-Sorgue 81, 95, 120 Portsmouth 200, 207, 211–2 Portugal 17 Kingdom of 217 Prades Tavernier 51–2 Principality of Orange 121 Prous Boneta 62, 64

274  Provence 17, 20, 23, 25 Principality of Achaia 225 Pyrenees 14 Quercy 28, 30–1, 35, 54, 205 Raimond Belot 50–1 Raimond Clergue 48 Raimond de l’Aire 41 Raimond de la Côte (de Sainte-Foy) 44–6 Raimond de Laburat 52 Raimond of Toulouse 37 Raimond Roussel 52 Rainier Sacconi 33 Ranulphe de Plassac 30 Raimonde den Arsen 52 Rash, Nancy 141, 143 Rathier de Miramont 125 Ravenna 175–6 Recanati 169, 171, 180 Reims 147 Renouard, Yves 20, 193 Rhineland 64 Rhodes 219–21, 225, 234, 253 Rhône River, 10, 159, 167, 214 Richard de Bentworth 199, 201 Richard of Bury 199, 213 Richerenches 120 Ricold of Montecroce 263 Rieti 176 Rimini 175–6 Robert le Bougre 29 Robert of Anjou, king of Naples 89, 93, 120, 168, 176, 197, 219–21 Robert of Artois 201–3, 213 Robert of Sicily 245 Robert Ufford 202, 208 Roger de Stanford 200 Roger de Vintron 182 Roland of Asti 197 Rollo-Koster, Joëlle 20 Romagna 169, 175–8, 187–8 Romania 218, 220–1, 224, 232–3, 238–9, 242 Romano, Serena 143 Rome 17–20, 24, 26, 78, 109–13, 118, 122, 131–2, 139, 147, 152, 157–61, 163–4, 168, 171, 182–3, 250–1, 260, 264 Rucellai, Giovanni 153 Sablet 122 Saint-Rémy 122 Salado River 237 San Severino 175, 181 Saraï 261 Saumane 122 Scotland 17, 91, 196–200, 221–2 Saverdun 13, 82 Séguret 122 Seneca 93

Pope Benedic t XII (1334–1342)

Sicily 183, 222, 225, 253 Siegfried of Ballhausen 149 Soncino 173–4 Spain 81, 193 S. Pietro in Montorio 149 Spoleto 175 Stamford 207, 210 Stephen Aubert 206 Stephen Dandolo 231, 244–5, 248 Stephen of Bourbon 33 Sumption, Jonathan 192, 194, 198–200, 202, 204, 206–7, 215–6 Tabacco, Giovanni 168–9 Taddeo Pepoli 175, 178–9 Tarifa 237 Tasselli da Lugo, Domenico 136–7, 150 Taylor, Claire 31 Templeman, G. 192 Theiner, Augustin 185 Théry-Astruc, Julien 31 Thomas Aquinas 93, 100 Thomas of Bologna 196 Thomas Sampson 200 Thomas Waleys 90, 92 Toghon-Temür, Great Khan 259 Tolentino 175, 181 Tommaso Giuraudi 159 Torrigio, Francesco Maria 132, 136, 155 Toulouse 14, 28, 30–2, 52, 54–5, 76, 133 Tuscany 184, 222 Trapp, Damasus 71, 73 Tyerman, Christopher 223 Ubertino of Casale 58, 64, 68, 71, 73, 82, 89 Umur Pasha of Aydin 229 Urban III, pope 61 Urban V, pope 73, 147, 171 Urbino 175, 181 Urmia, Lake 252 Usbech, khan of the Golden Horde 260–3 Uso di Mare, family 202 Nicholas 202 Oberto 202 Valenciennes 202, 207 Valréas 120, 122–3 Venice 219, 228–9, 233–4, 236 Republic of 219 Venturino from Bergamo 161 Vercelli 173–4 Veyrines 200 Villerouge-Termènes 37 Visconti, family 169, 171–3, 221 Azzo 172, 174 Galeazzo 172–3 Giovanni 172–4 Luchino 172–4 Marco 172

275

Index of names

Matteo 172–3, 221 Stefano 172 Viterbo 176 Walter I of Brienne 228 Walter II of Brienne 228–9, 230, 239 Walter Chatton 88, 90 Walter de Mauny 211 Westminster 211

Willershausen, Andreas 193, 215 William Boldensele 263 William de Bohun 208 William of Alnwick 90 William of Clynton 203, 207–8 William of Montague 202–3, 207–8 William of Ockham 15, 73, 82, 89, 94 William of Sens 205 William Trussel 199



Index of subjects

Alans 225, 259–60 Apostolic Chamber 114–9, 122–6, 184–5, 200, 214, 249 Armenian Church 226, 250–1, 254, 257, 266 Armenians 25, 225–6, 233, 241, 243, 250–3, 255–6, 258, 265–6 Avignon papacy 13, 16, 18–20, 23, 25, 81, 182, 192, 212, 218, 241–3, 257 Beatific Vision 15–6, 18, 21–2, 58, 64, 73–4, 81–106, 120 Beguins 57, 61, 64, 75–8 Bibliothèque nationale de France 257

Hospitallers of St John of Jerusalem 120, 124, 217, 219–21, 227–8, 233, 235–6, 239 Hundred Years’ War 17–8, 21, 24, 191–5, 197, 204–5, 216, 257 Lateran 143, 157, 159, 165, 167 Mamluks 224, 227, 233, 237, 239, 242, 251, 253, 257, 267 Marinids 236–8 Mongols. See also Tartars 25, 224, 241, 243, 251, 258–9, 263, 265, 267 Muslims 48, 81, 196, 217–8, 225–6, 252

Catalans (of Athens) 228–31, 233, 236, 239 Church union 18, 25, 231–2, 242–51 Collège Saint-Bernard (Paris) 14, 106 council of Adana 250 council of Ephesus 247 council of Lyon II 242, 244, 246–7, 250, 258, 265 council of Sis (1307) 250 council of Sis (c. 1345) 256–7, 266 council of Toledo 247 council of Vienne 28, 63, 108 crusade 18, 24–5, 191, 193–4, 196–9, 202, 211, 217–32, 236–43, 245–6, 251, 253, 263 crusade of Smyrna 218, 230–1, 236 Curia, papal 13–4, 16, 18–21, 58, 64, 89–92, 109–13, 159, 167–8, 172, 194–7, 200–3, 206, 210–1, 224, 226, 231–2, 235–6, 239, 252, 254, 262, 265–6

Old St Peter’s Basilica 131–2, 134–7, 139–40, 142, 144, 148–9, 153–63, 165

Free Spirit, heresy of the 63

Vatican 157 Vatican Archives (Archivio Segreto Vaticano) 168, 171 Vatican Grottoes 132, 135–8, 140, 149–52, 155 Vatican Museums 162 vicar of Christ (vicarius Christi) 145, 157–8, 163, 165

Ghibellines 172, 177, 180–1, 221 Good Men 22, 33, 35–6, 38–40, 42–4, 46, 48–53, 55 Greek Church 231, 244, 248 Greeks 25, 92, 218, 225, 229, 231–3, 241, 243, 245–8, 250, 258, 265–6 Guelfs 181

pontifical palace 17, 23–5, 81, 106–20, 159, 167 Scots 194, 198, 200, 211, 221 S. Maria in Pallara 143 S. Paolo fuori le mura 132, 143 Spiritual Franciscans. See also Beguins 58, 61–2, 78, 84, 93, 223 Tartars. See also Mongols 238, 258–60, 263 Treaty of Haguenau 197 Turks 25, 217, 219–21, 224–40 University of Paris 90 University of Toulouse 93