Santa Maria in Trastevere
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Santa Maria in Trastevere It was time; but he waited, savoring the moment. Drizzle tapped on the tiles overhead. Birds chirped in the cloisters. The thousand monks and bishops arrayed in the hall before him murmured and rustled. Behind, his chancellor coughed. Finally, he spoke the long-rehearsed words. “We, Innocent, servant of the servants of God, are pleased to welcome you to this first session of our sacred council. We trust that your wisdom, guided by the Holy Spirit, will make clear what human ignorance has confused. But first, let us give thanks to God, who has delivered his people from the toils of schism. Pietro Pierleoni, the false pope Anacletus, is dead; let all memory of his wickedness follow him to perdition. Let those raised up by his hand be deposed! Let anathemas be hurled against his decrees and pronouncements! Let his reign be forgotten, and the church renewed!” In this vein, I imagine, Pope Innocent II opened the Second Lateran Council in 1139. His remarks were probably less dramatic, and certainly less concise, than the version given here; but as far as we can tell from our sources, their content was quite similar. Innocent had spent the first eight years of his reign exiled from Rome by the antipope Anacletus. Now that Anacletus was dead and the schism healed, Innocent was determined to erase his rival from the annals of the church. The Church of Santa Maria in Trastevere, as we shall see, was a product of the same impulse. But before we discuss Innocent II and the schism that divided twelfth-century Europe, we need to briefly consider the dramatic evolution of the medieval papacy from a plaything of the Roman nobility to the arbiter of European politics. The late ninth and tenth centuries, the period later historians would call the pornocracy, represented the nadir of the papacy. In essence, the problem was political: the power vacuum left by the collapse of Charlemagne’s empire had been filled by a class of local nobles; and until the re-emergence of the Holy Roman Empire in the late tenth century, the petty wars and pettier intrigues of this warrior aristocracy permeated and disordered every aspect of society. The papacy fell under the control of the most powerful families in the Roman nobility. These clans had wildly unqualified family members promoted through the church hierarchy, and fixed papal elections to ensure their candidates’ victories. Once enthroned, however, these popes were liable to be attacked and/or assassinated by partisans of rival families. Even death was no security: in 896, Pope Stephen VI had the corpse of his predecessor Formosus exhumed, dressed in papal vestments, propped up in a chair, tried for various ecclesiastical misdemeanors, found guilty, and thrown into the Tiber. As might be expected, the moral caliber of popes in this period was not high. Worst of all was John XII, who – if contemporary reports can be believed – had the habit of molesting female pilgrims in St. Peter’s Basilica. Yet it was John XII who was, reluctantly, responsible for crowning Otto I Holy Roman Emperor, and thus for bringing a temporary end to the disorder that had gripped Rome for more than a century. Otto, fifty at the time of his coronation, had used a combination of military skill and political acumen to become the most powerful European ruler of the tenth century. His chief political goal was to resurrect Charlemagne’s empire – with the key difference that his Holy Roman Empire would be centered in Germany. In fact, almost the only true commonality between the Holy Roman Empires of Charlemagne and Otto was the fact that both were symbolically centered on the city of Rome. Thus, under Otto and his successors, Rome was again, intermittently, an imperial capital. When they were in Rome, the Ottonian emperors maintained firm control of the papacy, proposing and supporting their own candidates for the position. During their frequent absences from the city, however, the Roman nobles reasserted themselves, ignoring, dethroning, and/or murdering popes sponsored by the emperor. On their return, the emperors customarily returned the favor. It was an exciting time to be pope. After the death of Otto III in 1002, the new Holy Roman Empire became an increasingly German state – a circumstance that lessened the frequency of imperial interference in Roman affairs, and allowed the Roman nobility to again make the papacy their plaything. The situation only began to improve in the late eleventh century, when a series of talented popes insisted, with a surprising degree of success, on the moral integrity and political supremacy of their leadership. Since the time of Constantine, the principle that the bishop of Rome was the supreme ecclesiastic in the west had been generally acknowledged and almost universally ignored. Through the early middle ages, the popes’ practical control over affairs outside central Italy had been quite limited. This began to change under Pope Gregory VII, who reigned from 1073 to 1085. Gregory had an uncompromising vision of papal supremacy; and he repeatedly butted heads with Holy Roman Emperor Henry IV, who nourished an equally intransigent conception of imperial absolutism. Gregory subjected Henry to no less than three sentences of excommunication, one of which was ended by Henry’s famous walk of penitence to Canossa. When Henry retaliated by invading Rome and installing an antipope, Gregory called the Normans of southern Italy to his rescue. The Normans came, put Henry’s troops to flight – and then, less helpfully, burned most of Rome to the ground. Despite this disaster, the reign of Gregory VII marks the beginning of the high medieval papacy. By 1095, when Urban II called all the princes of Europe to participate in the First Crusade, it was clear that the prestige and power of the popes had reached new heights. Papal elections, however, remained subject to the interference of the Roman nobility. In the eleventh century, as today, popes were elected by the College of Cardinals. The College, however, was much smaller than it is now, and its members were tied much more closely to the city of Rome. These circumstances ensured that medieval cardinals were enmeshed in Roman politics. In the early twelfth century, this meant that most were partisans of one of Rome’s two greatest noble families: the Frangipani and the Pierleoni. In the papal election of 1124, the Pierleoni managed to get their candidate elected pope by the College. But during his consecration, a gang of Frangipani burst into the church and insisted with drawn swords on the election of their candidate. A massive brawl ensued, during which the newly-elected pope was stabbed, and the Frangipani candidate enthroned in his place. The election of 1130 promised to be equally contentious. There were two obvious candidates, both well-respected cardinals. One was Gregorio Papareschi, an experienced diplomat endorsed by the papal chancellor, who happened to be a close ally of the Frangipani. The other was Pietro Pierleoni, a scion of the Pierleoni clan further distinguished by an impressive record as a papal legate in France and England. Immediately after the death of the incumbent pope, roughly half the College of Cardinals, led by the chancellor, elected Gregorio pope. Gregorio accepted, and took the name Innocent II. A few hours later, the other half of the college declared that Pietro was the true pope. Pietro also acquiesced, taking the name Anacletus. Within a week, Anacletus had seized the upper hand in Rome, drowning all doubts about the validity of his election with streams of Pierleoni gold. Innocent had no choice but to retreat – first to Pisa, and then to France. For the next eight years, the two popes divided the loyalties of Europe. Anacletus courted the Norman count Roger, who controlled much of Southern Italy, offering him a crown in exchange for his support. Roger agreed, and duly became first King of Sicily. Innocent, meanwhile, gained the support of the charismatic holy man Bernard of Clairvaux, who in turn won over the clergy and the king of France. The Holy Roman Emperor also declared for Innocent. Anacletus’ support, it soon became clear, was limited to Italy – but he still held Rome, and showed no signs of surrendering his position. Innocent continued to shuttle around Europe, assuring all and sundry that he was the rightful pope. The schism was only ended, however, by the death of Anacletus in 1138. After Innocent returned to Rome, one of his first acts was to convene the Second Lateran Council, at which – as you’ll recall from the beginning of the episode – Anacletus was condemned, along with all his acts, pronouncements, and appointments. Then, apparently from sheer vindictiveness, Innocent first excommunicated, and then personally led an army against, Roger of Sicily. The ensuing battle ended with the pope’s capture, and Innocent was forced to recognize Roger’s royal title before his release. Back in Rome, once his bruised ego had recovered, Innocent began to rebuild the church of Santa Maria in Trastevere. This was a deeply personal project, for several reasons. First, he was a native of Trastevere, the hardscrabble neighborhood across the Tiber from the rest of Rome. Second, Santa Maria had been Anacletus’ titular church; and Innocent was not certainly not above destroying a building associated with his rival and constructing a new one in its place. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, building a large and lavishly-decorated church in Rome would help to cement both Innocent’s personal legitimacy and that of the papacy after years of confusion. The design of the church was influenced by these goals.