The growth of the papacy steadily progressed as the empire declined and a long hierarchy of elected priests, beginning with St. Peter, occupied the episcopal chair from generation to generation. The first popes were the chiefs of a secret society of believers in a new cult which was to transform the world, and by their undying courage, willing martyrs to their faith, fought on till the Christian Church won an independent position as the spiritual leader of many peoples. Their pious converts continually endowed the Church with estates and treasures until the bishop of Rome became the largest landowner in the empire, and as early as the fifth century began to exercise material influence in the city. While the city of Rome was impoverished, the Church grew more and more wealthy and the pope-bishop was far richer than the patriarch of Constantinople or Alexandria. The head of the Church in the West was a personage of much authority. His power was also extended to the East; he was backed by the Gothic kings of Italy and was by degrees recognised as the head of all Catholic Christendom. When the right of arbitration between clergy and laity was conceded to the pope, the political power of the papacy was finally established.
The election of Gregory, called the Great, at the end of the sixth century, came at a time when Rome was at her lowest ebb and opened the way to the consolidation of the temporal power of the popes. Gregory was a faithful steward of the revenues of the Church and his charities were unceasing to all classes, noble and pauper. The city was ravaged by famine and pestilence, but the latter was averted, says tradition, by the pious intercession of Gregory. The answer came to him from heaven as he headed a vast penitential procession. The whole populace joined, divided into seven groups according to age and class, each starting from their own quarter, abbots and monks and presbyters, nuns and widows, all bound for the Basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore. As they marched through the ruins of the deserted city, they filled every echo with their solemn chants, while the pestilence still raged and deaths occurred on the road. When passing the mausoleum of Hadrian, so the legend runs, the Pope looked up and saw the figure of the Archangel Michael, surrounded by the holy choir, with a flaming sword which he sheathed significantly as he alighted upon the pinnacle of the monument. Gregory interpreted the heavenly vision as a promise that the plague would cease, and indeed it presently began to abate. The incident was of special interest to the monument, for in gratitude, another pope, Boniface, probably the fourth, founded a chapel on the highest part of the mausoleum, which he dedicated to St. Michael, and it was afterward known as the chapel of St. Angelo, inter nubes, or inter caelos. Of course the whole story is purely apocryphal and it is not mentioned by either of the pope’s biographers. A bronze statue of St. Michael, erected by Pope Benedict XIV, about 1740, to this day hovers over the castle with outstretched wings.
The energy and pertinacity with which the early popes asserted their dignity and authority won the respect and devotion of the inhabitants of Rome, who relied upon them as their best protectors and defenders against the incursive barbarians. To this the papacy owed its strong position as the years went on, and its power to hold its own was more fully recognised by the nominal rulers of the people. Kings and emperors further endowed it with cities; Pepin gave it Rimini, Ravenna, and Urbino; Charlemagne, his son, was no less liberal; the Normans enlarged the papal dominions, and before the end of the thirteenth century many free states acknowledged the papal authority.
As the centuries passed Rome was still a constant centre of conflict. Other invaders, both Franks and Vandals, had succeeded to the Goths. The Lombards, in the eighth century, besieged the castle of St. Angelo, but the city was preserved by the defences of Gregory the Great. Next, the Saracens attacked it but recoiled before the fortifications of Pope Leo IV, who created the Leonine city by enclosing the Vatican with a long wall, which began at St. Angelo and ran round St. Peter’s, turned then to the left and completed the circuit by regaining the river below the gate of S. Spirito. The wall was forty feet high and nineteen feet thick, built with forty-one towers. It was pierced by three gates, a small one near St. Angelo, a larger one, the St. Peregrini, afterwards the Porta Vindaria, and a third at S. Spirito. The castle itself was reconstructed and strengthened and became the key to the whole line. It was closed at one end by an iron chain across the Tiber. When finished, the work was solemnly dedicated to heaven and the blessings of all the angels and apostles were invoked upon the new Rome, with a fervent prayer that it might be preserved ever pure and impregnable.
This Leonine city was to become the stronghold of the popes, a constant bone of contention, fought for by many masters and passing through many hands. Its history has been stirring and eventful, and it would be interesting, were it possible, to record the many strange vicissitudes through which it passed, and to describe at length the notable persons, famous and infamous, who ruled it from time to time. A very cursory glance will suffice to indicate their leading characteristics, their rare virtues and vices; the good they did, and also the evil; their great ambition for the Church and themselves, which frequently led them to take desperate measures to gain their ends. Factions and dissensions were ever rife; rivals forever struggled for the supreme power,—such as the renegade pope, Stephen VI, who dared to produce the corpse of his deceased predecessor, Formosus, for trial on a trumped-up charge. The body was disinterred eight months after burial, dressed in pontifical robes and publicly arraigned for usurping the See of Rome. As there could be no defence, sentence was passed in default, the corpse was decapitated, the three fingers of the right hand used in consecration were cut off and the remains cast into the Tiber. Stephen himself was soon called to account after a brief reign of three months, was dethroned and cast into prison.
At this period the papal city fell under female rule, that of the mysterious, but undoubtedly notorious Theodora, who wielded the power gained by her beauty, wealth and cleverness, of absolute queen of Rome. Her husband was a certain Theophylactus, a consul, senator and patrician of Rome, and she had two daughters, Marozia and Theodora, both of whom emulated their mother in wickedness. The chief interest attaching to these infamous women is that they made St. Angelo their chief residence and the principal theatre of their misdeeds. The elder daughter, Theodora, after the death of her husband, favoured a young ecclesiastic whom she brought to Rome; and eventually she procured his election as pope, bequeathing him the castle of St. Angelo at her death. Marozia hated him, drove him forth, became chatelaine and in her turn ruler of Rome. When Marozia lost her first husband she married a second, Guido, duke of Tuscany, associated with whom she was guilty of many crimes. She had two sons; one she made pope as John XI, and the other, Alberic, conspired against her. Being by this time a widow, she married a third husband, Hugo of Provence, king of Italy, and the nuptials were celebrated with great pomp in St. Angelo, in the vault where the porphyry sarcophagus of the Emperor Hadrian still stood. Alberic soon quarrelled with his stepfather and summoning the Roman people to his aid he upbraided them for submitting to the tyranny of a woman and stranger; he incited them to storm the castle, whence Hugo escaped by letting himself down by a rope from the walls and Marozia fled to a convent where she died.
The original purport of the castle was all but forgotten, and it was to serve for centuries as a fortress, the very strongest part of Rome. It is described at this period by a contemporary writer as “of marvellous workmanship and strength, standing at the very entrance to Rome, commanding the splendid bridge over the Tiber, over which all must pass with the goodwill of the garrison if they desire to enter or leave the city.” It was still an imposing edifice and retained most of its first marble panelling; the inscriptions to the buried emperors were still legible, although few of the fine statues and stately colonnades remained. Pope John XI, Marozia’s son, administered the affairs of the Church with wisdom and justice, and he was succeeded by John XII, Alberic’s son, who assumed the tiara at eighteen years of age and lived to earn the reputation of being one of the most infamous popes who had ever reigned. John entered into an alliance with Otho, Emperor of Germany, broke all his pledges and was attacked by Otho in the castle, which fell into the enemy’s hands, while he himself escaped. Although absent he was put upon his trial before the council of cardinals and charged with a long list of terrible crimes. “You have been accused,” said the indictment, “of homicide, perjury, sacrilege, incest: you have drunk to the health of the devil; when playing at dice you have implored the help of Jupiter, Venus and various demons.” John refused to answer to these charges and threatened to excommunicate any one who should attempt to nominate a new pontiff. He was, however, deposed, but waiting his opportunity, surprised the castle when it was weakly garrisoned, took possession of it and revenged himself. He cut off the right hand of one cardinal deacon; he mutilated several other great ecclesiastics by slicing their noses, cutting out their tongues and depriving them of their forefingers. A violent death, however, soon overtook him: he was stabbed just outside the gates when concerned in some intrigue.
When Roffredo, prefect of Rome, seized and imprisoned Pope John XIII and the scale presently turned, the emperor, at the pope’s request, took summary vengeance on Roffredo and after his death, disinterred the body and flung the corpse into the drains. The reigning prefect was handed over to the pope, who ordered that his beard should be cut off, that he should be hung by his hair to the statue of Marcus Aurelius, and that he should then be stripped, mounted backwards on an ass and driven ignominiously through the streets. The two successive popes, Boniface VII and John XIV, alternately disputed the throne; Boniface cast John into the dungeons of St. Angelo, where he was either strangled or starved to death, while Boniface himself, after a short reign, was overthrown and his dead body subjected to nameless indignities.
At last the Romans, maddened by misgovernment, chose a noble citizen of high character, by name Crescentius, to act as consul and for some few years the city enjoyed peace and tranquillity. Again the wheel turned, and when Crescentius nominated another pope, John XVI, the emperor seized the wretched pontiff and barbarously misused him by tearing out his eyes and tongue and cutting off his nose. Crescentius himself was besieged in St. Angelo but made so stout a resistance that the place could only be gained by treachery. He had little prospect of beating off Otho but was sturdily defiant when summoned to surrender. The castle with its many towers and innumerable battlements was deemed impregnable, but siege was laid in due form and the attack assisted by the huge military engines or wooden towers in use at the time. Eventually it was taken by assault, Crescentius was beheaded on the battlements, and his remains, after horrible mutilation, were thrown down and hung on a gallows below Monte Mario. He left a widow Stephania who vowed to avenge her husband even at the cost of becoming Otho’s mistress, whom she presently put to death by administering poison to him.
This was the saddest period of ecclesiastical history; pope followed pope, all ineffectively striving to maintain order and St. Angelo was sometimes their sanctuary, sometimes their prison house. One or two of the popes who were most unworthy to wear the sacred insignia may be mentioned, such as Benedict IX, who was elected at the callow age of ten. Another pope writing of him fifty years later said, “I have horror to describe the life of Benedict, how shameful, corrupt and execrable it was.” After he had long tormented the Romans by his injustice and cruelty, they would no longer tolerate him, but rose and expelled him from the pontifical seat. He soon returned, and deposing his successor, sold the throne to an archpriest, who took the name of Gregory VI. Benedict thereupon retired into St. Angelo. There were then three popes in Rome, and the emperor appearing on the scene, nominated a fourth. A conflict at once arose with the emperor, Henry IV, and his nominee was attacked, but saved by Cencius, the son of the prefect, who now held St. Angelo and who kept him there safely for two years.